The ship had been difficult to bring down. The pilot was highly skilled, with incredibly fast reflexes. The Scientist looked upon the craft as it avoided yet another attempt to disable it, and had now decided that the pilot alone was worth it's capture. He had been tracking the craft for weeks now and had made 4 attempts to capture it over the past few days.

The craft itself was clearly of Necron origin, but was... different... from the usual warships. It was sleek and fast, built for agility, not battle. The Scientist could have easily (well not so easily as it turned out) destroyed the craft, but he wanted it intact to study. It's design and the way it moved was reminiscent of blockade runners; able to outrun, rather than out-gun any foes. This meant that it must have some important cargo on board, and The Scientist was eager to study it. The craft would be a bonus, now outshone by the pilot.

The Scientist's own ship was no slouch when it came to interstellar travel. The technology installed on board allowed it to fold space and leap from one end of the Universe to the other in an instant, and even without using this capability it could sneak up, undetected, to any ship and would even be able to run rings around any of the major races' craft if it needed to. But this ship, slightly smaller than his own, had proven itself far more agile. Being of Necron origin, it likely didn't require the mass-stabilisers that The Scientist needed so that he (and any other squishy life-forms) weren't killed in the manoeuvres, and this absence could provide that extra bit of performance; he would need to study it to be sure though.

Now though, he had caught up with it. The ship had stopped off at a known Necron-controlled planet, dropped off a data packet of some kind, and was just about to resume it's journey when The Scientist's craft had speared the side of the ship with a large barbed spike (that he had spent the past 20 hours riveting to the front of his ship). He had then folded space back to his own planetary system. taking the speared craft, before any help could arrive from the Necrons of the planet. He then boarded the ship.

As suspected, there was no defence on board the ship. All the available space was taken up by the engines and flight-control technology. The Scientist would look over this at a later date, he was eager to meet the pilot. He found her, and it was definitely a "her" unusually for Necrons, towards the front of the ship in the middle of a spacious cockpit. Lights powered up as he entered to reveal a clean, uncluttered space. A bank of screens, displaying navigation, ship system information, etc. were situated opposite a throne of sorts.

Sat on the throne was a Necron, as individual as any of the high-level commanders. The basic frame of the body was largely the same as any other, but the panels that covered the frame were smooth and contoured into a feminine form. The harsh lines of the "standard" Necron were softened. the creamy-white surface looked soft to the touch. But between the panels and at the joints in particular there shone the familiar silvery Necron metal, and from the back of the head extended many and varied cables and wires; these plugged into the throne and obviously allowed greater and faster control of the ship. But there were also controls placed in reach of the hands and feet.

The pilot moved with a feminine grace as she stood up to address The Scientist. The cables came free of the throne and hung like long hair at her back. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkled as they caught the light.
"What is the meaning of this? You cannot stop the updates, I will be replaced." She said with an air of superiority.
"I'm not here to stop your updates, Madame. I'm here for you." Replied The Scientist.
"You will not find me so easy to capture." She said, taking up a unique fighting pose.
"Let this not get into such barbaric practices. I want you to join my cause. I am highly impressed with your skills and you would be a worthy addition. Here, catch." The Scientist tossed a small metallic sphere to the pilot.
She batted the sphere to one side with the back of her hand and said "Don't play games with me, I'll tear you limb from limb."
"Fine, fine. If that's the way you like to play" Said The Scientist, and drew a large revolver.
The pilot easily dodged the bullet from the crude gun and sprang at The Scientist, clearing the space between them in the blink of an eye. However, as soon as she impacted upon his body there was a faint "fop" noise and she awoke in a metal-walled room. The Scientist was sat opposite her.

"I'm so glad you decided to join us..." Said The Scientist "...and you want to ride one of my new racing bikes, good choice."
"Yes, logically that is where I would be of greatest use." She said, still with a slight air of superiority.

The sensation of the air flowing over her body and tugging at her hair was a thrill that she would never get tired of. The former racing bike she was riding could outperform any dedicated war-machine produced by any species, but was not as tough. That didn't really matter though, with her skills she could dodge most incoming fire as easily as she could fly though a forest, and she could fly though a forest.