Arkhah remained hunched near the door, the usual greenish-brown hue of his skin mottled and patched with various shades of red and orange. His kindred's particular dominant adaptation made him a peerless scout and stealth expert, but it had its downsides - in times of significant emotional stress, he sometimes changed color involuntarily like certain deep-sea organisms, unless he was actively focusing to suppress it. In this case, the standard unease and restlessness he felt during space battles that did not appear likely to result in either making or defending against a boarding action was multiplied several times over through the fact that he still lacked even the smallest clue as to who they were fighting, or why. Typically, Cortez would take at least a minute to outline potential threats; the better to be on guard against...but his noticable lack of having done so alongside the great haste with which they had joined battle were warning signs as bright and obvious as the fiery splotches on his multichromatic skin, warnings that something wasn't going as planned.<br/><br/>-------------<br/><br/>Deep in the bowels of the ship, a nameless grunt struggles futilely to penetrate the Spiky Dildo's jamming and secure a better lock for the weapon batteries.<br/>(Lock On failed with a 59, someone else try.)