The Viper class-2A Warbird left Gondora's orbit traveling through the Cylarian system at hyper speed. The smaller scaled, yet highly equipped, battle cruiser carried her normal operating crew of about a dozen, along with seven elite Shadow Warriors, commanded by Raiden Ul'thri. The Viper and her crew were on their way back to the Allied Federation's home world, after having completed their assigned mission.

Raiden and his team had been sent in to squelch an uprising on the otherwise peaceful planet. An uprising coordinated by a large group of rebels that were determined to overthrow Gondora's fledgling government and take control of her trade routes. The Federation deemed the situation as an immediate threat to an already fragile peace treaty between themselves and Gondora. So they dispatched their most lethal military team to deal with the problem.

And deal with it they did. With virtually little effort, Raiden and his men thoroughly crushed the coup and dispatched the rebels; making Gondora once again a peaceful and secure place for its people.

Now, as the Viper cruised home, personnel went about their tasks. The ship's crew carried out their assigned duties while the hardcore mercenaries used the down time to get their gear back in order. Afterward the Warriors blew off steam. As if battling a hundred or so rebels had not been enough for the seven brutes, they arranged sparring matches against each other. Placing bets as they joyfully pummeled the shit out of one another.

As for Raiden, after seeing to his men and giving orders to his second in command, he headed straight for the med lab. With long strides, he stormed down the middle of the walkway. Minus his helmet, Raiden still wore his full battle armor - which was yet covered in a mixture of dirt and blood. The seasoned Warrior presented a lethal presence, as his hand gripped tightly the hilt of the sword at his waist, and his steel grey eyes shown with an intensity of foreboding.

Members of the crew kept their distance when they spotted the pissed-off mercenary coming. They plastered themselves to either side of the corridor due to the dark don't-fuck-with-me scowl on his face. Raiden was sure that the long bloody gash on the left side of his face was not helping much to lessen his dark brooding look.

A rebel had gotten lucky with the swing of a blade; leaving a deep laceration running from his left temple to just past his jaw line. Raiden rubbed his hand along the side of his face; coming away with dried flakes of blood on his fingers. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, and would heal soon enough. The injury pained him not. It was more of a reminder of his wandering mind than of anything else. She had been in his thoughts during battle. An image of her had floated through his thoughts during the encounter with the rebel. His punishment was the kiss of steel. Raiden's mood darkened even more at the reminder of his mistake.

He snorted in disgust at his own stupidity. Distraction was a Warrior's worst enemy. Distraction by a beautiful female; well, that could quickly turn into something far more dangerous.

Other than the wound garnering him a valid reason to see Carita, he also planned on having a little chat with her about following orders.

Before he and his men disembarked for battle, he had specifically ordered Carita to stay on the ship; to stay with the Viper crew until his return. Nonetheless it seemed that she had blatantly ignored his orders and ventured out anyway. She had left the safe haven of the ship with a burly crew member as her protector. Carita had wanted to see if she could treat some of the wounded. At least that's what PFC Jones aka, the burly crew member, had told him anyway - after Raiden tracked the man down and cornered him in the engineering room. She'd been out tending to the injured. The opposition! Damn crazy woman!

At least when the fighting had started turning in their direction, her escort had enough common sense - or fear - to drag Carita back to the safety of the ship.

Raiden would not have known any of this if it had not been for his second in command, Specialist Garreth Vi'soll, witnessing the duo's hasty retreat. Anger had welled up inside of him at her recklessness.

Nonetheless, if truth be told, he was heading towards the med lab, not because he felt like throttling the stubborn wench or because of his minor wound, but to actually see if Carita was alright. He needed to know - needed to see for himself - that she wasn't hurt. That she was as he had left her. Unharmed.

Her safety had become his driving force, as he entered the transport. When his six-foot-six hulking, blood covered, armored frame entered the transporter, two crew members hurriedly exited, avoiding him at all cost. Apparently they did not want to share a ride with the agitated Shadow Warrior.

"C deck Med Lab," Raiden's deep gravely voice commanded, and the doors to the transporter swiftly shut.

Waiting for the transporter doors to open to the med lab, he recalled the moment Garreth had informed him of Carita's little adventure outside the ship.

It felt like the gods themselves had ripped out his guts. For some strange reason, when he realized that Carita could have been injured or - even worse - killed, it seemed his whole world fell out from beneath him.

A low growl escaped his throat as Raiden questioned himself for the thousandth time why had he allowed her on board the battle cruiser in the first place. She should have stayed back at the Allied Federation base - where it was safe.

When he had learned of her plans to join the mission, Raiden immediately sought her out and animatedly insisted she stay on base. He basically forbade her to come.

He had stood before the little chit of a woman. Looking down at Carita at his great height, he tried to intimidate her. Tried to bend her to his will. Raiden had used the most ominous commanding tone he could muster, when he ordered her, in no uncertain terms, that this mission was dangerous, and that she was not coming with them.

That, he found out quickly enough, was like ordering the suns of Avqur't never to rise again. The stubborn woman simply ignored him.

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth--that was not quite true.

Before she proceeded to ignore his command, she had boldly stood her ground. Which was pretty brazen, he thought at the time, because the top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. Apparently his size did not deter her from going toe-to-toe with him. With her hands on her hips and her pretty little face tilted up to glare right back at him, Carita heatedly informed him that she had gotten permission from the Federation Prime directly. She had convinced that dim wit that her services were needed, just in case a team member happened to be severely injured.

The Federation Prime was new to the base, and, as of yet, was clueless to Carita's powers of persuasion and determination. Besides, the idea of one of his men getting wounded was ludicrous. What a load of Taltorian shit!

It was highly unlikely that any of his men would ever get injured. However, the few times that any of them were on the receiving end of a blade, it only took their bodies a day to completely heal; two at the most, depending on the severity of the wound. Besides Shadow Warriors were too cunning, swift and deadly.

Sighing heavily, leaning his dark head back against the transporter wall with a thud, he remembered the gash and bloody mess on the side of his face. He thought - aye, the commander of the Shadow Warriors was cunning, swift and deadly, until the image of a certain petite, copper-haired woman danced through his head. Then he was nothing more than a man anchored by wants and needs.

Smiling broadly now, he remembered how she had told him that she out ranked him on this mission. And that if anyone was doing the ordering of others, it would be her. He would simply have to obey. All this was said as she had stabbed a well manicured finger in the middle of his chest. The woman had balls, that was for sure.

Pushing himself from the wall and mentally kicking himself, he should have just hauled her pretty little ass off the ship kicking and screaming. He then should had tied her up in her room until his return.

He groaned as an image of her tied to her bed naked flashed through his mind. Closing his eyes, he shook his head to be rid of the tantalizing image. His groin ached and his breathing became shallow. Raiden concentrated on slowing his heartbeat. Damn crazy woman!

At that precise moment the doors to the transporter swooshed open and the object of his discomfort was standing before him.

"Commander Ul'thri. Glad you're back."

With a hooded expression on his face, Raiden stepped out of the transporter. All he saw through his mind's eye was sweet Carita, tied up spread-eagle in the middle of his bed. Naked.

In his vision, her soft mound of curls at the apex of her thighs would be the same rich-copper color as her long silky hair. There would be fear, unshed tears, apprehension, and excitement in her warm honey-colored eyes, as she realized the inevitable - that he was going to fuck her--hard!

He would fuck her until she screamed his name. Until they both were completely and utterly exhausted from the pleasures of riding each and every crest of bliss. He would take and give until they were both sated.

A low growl resonated deep from within Raiden's chest as he reached out to take what he wanted. To take what he needed. To make her his.