The bridge hums with activity of the inaugural voyage, screens glowing pale against the ocean of stars outside.

Anne: "First Lieutenant Anne, reporting for duty, Sir," Anne says with a sharp salute. She is tall and athletic, and one of the oldest women among your crew at 27 years old. The skin-tight full body uniform that they all wear reveals the lithe muscles on her tall frame. She looks to you with affection and loyalty. Behind her the rest of the crew stands at attention toward the rear of the bridge and just outside the door. A dozen young women, beautiful and loyal, but far fewer than a gunship corvette like The Siren's Wrath should have.

Jane: The ship's Master-at-Arms, Jane, stands at attention beside Anne. "The crew is in good spirits and as ready as they can be, Sir," she says, shifting her petite body slightly with the easy flow of an experienced fighter. She smiles as though sharing a sly joke. "Although we need more crew as soon as possible. Press-ganged, if need be, from these filthy pirates."

Margaret: Boatswain Margaret nods beside her, but says nothing. She waits for the Captain's command to unclasp the docking clamps and spin up the drives to make for the nearest warp gate. Her dark hair and olive skin contrast sharply with the form fitting crew uniform in crisp white and blue. It is impossible not to notice her uniform's front zipper kept just a little lower than regulation, revealing a glimpse of dark cleavage.

The deep hum of the engines and the quiet shifting of young bodies in tight bodysuits are the only sounds as the nearby gas giant turns slowly outside. The Siren's Wrath feels eager and ready to set out into the stars. The Federation's Letters of Marque are a mandate to seek out these women pirates terrorizing the far flung colony worlds and punish them...however the holder sees fit.