Anya managed a nob before sprinting up to the bridge. Alpha was using the manual controls now, physically dodging and maneuvering the hefty cargo ship Sweat was beading down his face, but there was a fire in his eyes and a grin on his lips and she could tell he was in his element. As excited as he was at danger licking at their heels like a wildfire she knew he must be confident that they could get out of it. After all, that was what he was hired for. But he was damn good at his job.<br/><br/>Anya slammed her ass into the control chair, and took a hold of the firearms controls. They were recent additions, Sam, Alpha and Anya had worked tirelessly to convert the guns from an older model mercenary fighter ship to this cargo ship. It wasn't exactly regulation, but so long as they remained hidden (Thanks Sam and her hydraulics ) they would pass any inspection.<br/><br/>Anya let a delightful yeehaw as she opened fire on the Reaver Vessel, denting its construction and slowing them. Of course their guns were inferior and would do little but slow the vessel, maybe stop it but never destroy it. It had to be enough.<br/><br/>Together the two siblings were the vision of reckless. They hooped and hollered slamming around in their seats as they led the assault. No one could guess that they were anything but related. Their colony had been inhabited exclusively by a group descended from Ireland on what was once Earth, so the histories had read. They were a rough and tumble bunch, mostly farmers and ranchers that lived hard on the land with no real determinable modern technology in many places. Had someone seen them now they would think that they belonged in a bar fight or a hay brawl with those grins, not knowing anything about Anya or Alpha's true natures.<br/><br/>