[r4wr89]

Augustine stood at the helm of The Courtier, patiently waiting for the inevitable engagement with the Alpha Legion. Beside him, Captain Uriah stared fearfully into space, possibly at Medusa V, which was just coming into sight.
A man well advanced in his years, Uriah had been many things in his life. He was a trader, a businessman, a nobleman, even a father, but never a soldier. His lanky stature reflected his nervous personality, and Uriah feared death above all else. Now he was left commanding a ship destined for war, a bolt pistol strapped on his belt next to a gleaming combat knife. Never had he been more afraid.

Augustine lay what he thought was a comforting hand on Uriah’s shoulder, sensing the man’s discomfort, but his armored fist only served to increase the burden the Captain felt. The Space Marine then turned to issue orders to the crew, allowing time for Uriah to compose himself.
“Make every effort to appear that we are surrendering,” Augustine began. The Legionnaires were only minutes away now, their cruisers in sight. “Maintain a low speed towards Medusa V; and find a way to minimize damage to the barges. They know our barges will be defended, but they have yet to know of our presence. Draw them in…and I pray the Emperor will deliver us this day...”