My head went a little bit crazier than usual, and to make myself sane a little bit… I had to do this. Inspired by the story How to Train Your Dragon 2015. Albeit in a more galactic scale.

Took some elements from Mass Effect, Macross Frontier, and Starcraft. Use the alien race from Mass Effect.

Hiccup: Human : Engineer

Astrid: Human : Soldier

Stoick: Human : Commando

Gobber: Krogan : Battlemaster-Warlord

Snotlout: Turian : Agent

Tuffnut, Ruffnut: Quarian twins : Sentinels

Fishlegs: Krogan : Berserker


This is the flagship of the flotilla colony, a kilometer long heavy class dreadnought: the Hairy Hooligan, or just the Hooligan. Right now, we're stationed in the Anubis nebula, orbiting the planet, Berk. It is 12 light years north from the Dark Space and just a few collapsed star systems too close from the core of the known galaxy. Berk is the only habitable planet in the middle of this nebula, encircled by a ring of asteroid, and surrounded by lots and lots of space debris and a couple of unstable stars.

The Flotilla, in a word, sturdy. We're talking about a fleet of military class dreadnoughts carrying bigger guns led by an even bigger dreadnought with the biggest gun. We've been here for 7 generations orbiting the planet, and every colony ship is brand new. We have Malls, we have Movies, and we even have farms and poultries and a charming view of the only Sun that won't go Nova for the next 30 million years.

The only problem is the space turbulence.

Other colony fleets have meteor shower, space pirates, slaver raids…

We have…

One of the dreadnought's thrusters suddenly exploded, followed by a large red alien frigate which is not unlike a living creature with wings suddenly appearing out of nowhere as it literally roared.


A fleet of hive minded super advanced synthetic/organic/or a-mixture-of-both sentient warships of alien origin. They reside in the unexplored region referred to as dark space, the empty, starless space between galaxies. Scientist theorized they hibernate there, dormant for thousands of years, before for some reason… they suddenly just came at us and made our live more colorful. Their origins are completely unknown. We called these sentient warships "Dragons" because… well…

The red frigate flapped its wings while its entire body changed direction midair. Energy charging on its head before it fired a stream of red hot beam, blocked by the Battlecruiser's barely holding kinetic barrier. Not unlike a mythical dragon's breath.

Uncanny resemblance, no?

Meanwhile, in the space, a couple more of the red Dragons appeared, followed by a swarm of smaller and somewhat pathetic looking Dragons. That being said though, they literally blanketed the whole space, blotting out the Sun. The swarm was soon followed by another fleet of different classes of larger dragons with myriad shape, color and size.

In every corner of the ship, sirens blaring, inside, soldiers running across the alleyway. Outside, the AA batteries of every ship begin roaring, sending projectiles and missiles at the dragons. One dragon dodged the wrong way and had a missile locked in. The blast hit its kinetic barrier, shattering it, and knocked it off course but otherwise unharmed… though a salvo of the AA batteries changed that soon.

Most people would probably leave. But not us. We're Marauders. A special paramilitary branch in Citadel Council Dark Space Voyage program whose task is to venture into inhospitable worlds and made it hospitable. That being said… we all have stubbornness issue.

Inside the Hooligan, in the large armory, one particularly young and skinny soldier rushed through the crowds of tougher and more muscle bound (macho) soldiers.

"Hiccup! What are you doing here?"

"Get back inside!"

"Back inside!"

"Sorry… I… I just need to get to the workshop okay!"

Yep. That's me. I'm John'Hiccup' Horrendous Haddock III. An overworked, highly underrated Engineer. Just then, an explosion occurred and the ship's VI starts screaming warnings:

"Warning! Warning! Kinetic barrier breached. Ship's integrity compromised."

Just then, I saw the walls of the armory start burning red hot. Something is about to come through.

"M-Boots up and secure yourself!" a loud voice echoed across the armory. In a disciplined manner, everyone reached for their shoes and pressed a button. The shoes glowed as their magnetized feet now stick to the floor.

Just then, the red hot wall finally exploded and a red dragon's elongated head burst out of the molten wall, outside, its large claws, still can't get in, starts banging on the ship's exterior hull, trying to widen the hole. It's just a small hole on the wall, but in the middle of space, a hole that small already begin sucking the air on the room, pulling everything out. A few soldiers who were unfortunate enough were sucked into the void.

I had to hold on to the ground, even with magnetic boots on. I took hold on a crane but finally my feet went off the ground. I would've got spaced if a strong hand didn't grab hold of mine.

"Hiccup! What is he doing…What are you doing here! Get back inside!" The strong hand belongs to a middle aged man with equally strong voice and a stronger attitude. A red bearded man with features hardened by experience.

That's Commander Stoick "the Vast" Sheppard. Effectively the commander of the entire flotilla. They say he brought down a dragon with a hand grenade when he was 12. Do I believe it?

Stoick took a bazooka and shoot it right on the red dragon's opened mouth, causing an explosion that blow a hole on its carapace, forcing it to back out. Just then, the automated repair system kicks in and the breached hull closed in on itself in no time.

Yes I do.

"What have we got?" Stoick roared over the sirens as he walked towards what appears to be a powersuit.

"Scanners indicate Gronckles, Nadders, hordes of Terrors, and just now, some Nightmares too. The usual.

"Any sign of Night Furies?"

"None so far."

"Good." Stoick climb on his power suit and put it on. A few buttons pressed and the suit powering up and went online, along with another battalion of such soldiers in their respective power suits. Anyone would notice that Stoick's power suit seems bigger, heavily armed, with the black and white design and the skull paintjob, coupled with a few decorations of what looked like Dragon remains melded to the armor.

"Mobilize the fighters; get them to engage the smaller ones. And get ready to open the hull hatches, let's bring the pain."

A large elevator lifted the entire squad of troopers, lead by Stoick, and brought them up to the surface of the ship. The magnetized feet of the power suit latched them to the Hooligan's outer hull. Each carrying a pair of oversized and obviously overpowered machine guns that won't be out of place on Tank turrets-I mean the main gun turret, they spread across the ship's surface.

"FIRE AT WILL!" Stoick roared as the Suit squad began firing their 20 mm Armor Piercing, rocket propelled explosive rounds.

Fighting against a fleet of Alien Living Warships in a macho parley (wearing power suit or not) atop the surface of a dreadnought in the middle of space.

Sound insane? Cool, but insane?

Not for us. We've learned that it's more effective to fight these Aliens this way. Turrets are just way too inflexible. A stream of ion laser strike suddenly took out 2 suit units at once. The explosion didn't even scratch the Hooligan though. See just how sturdy we are?

The forge…

"Hiccup! So glad you can join us. I thought they would've picked you off somewhere." A large hunchbacked scaly alien with an oversized large hump was packing bullets into cases.

"No, me? Come on… I'm way too much for these guys. They wouldn't know what to do with all this… manliness." I showed him my not so impressive muscles… which pretty much non-existent.

"Maybe toothpicks? Who knows what these Dragons need right?" The Krogan with the attitude and interchangeable prosthetic wrench for a left arm is Gobber the Wrench. My father's second in command, arms expert, family friend, and the guy who took care of me since I was little… well… littler.

"Oh swell… at least we know one thing that they need." I looked through the screens and saw swarms of the small Dragons, the Terrible Terrors are flying allover one of the Dreadnought in the flotilla's energy reactor. Dozens latched on to it and began draining electricity.

That's right. These dragons don't attack us without reason. Every time there's a raid they're going for our power cores. Logical, even for us. I mean, sentient or not… they're practically machines. And logic dictates machines need energy as food.

So what's the deal here? Some of you might be thinking about that.

Well… here's an example on the field. One of the Dreadnought's, latched by too many Terrors, and its defensive turrets went down (another reason why we have suit units fighting on the surface of the ship). It was soon latched by other even larger dragons, one after another. It began to go down as its lights went out, overweight and out of power.

"Somebody get those Dragons off that ship! It's going down!" Stoick roared over the com of his suit. Even on the field, he's still in charge of the entire flotilla. The other Dreadnoughts and starfighters began concentrating fire on the infested ship. The dragons finally left, but the ship was heavily damaged and was left a floating hunk of metal, completely offline and off the combat.

See here, in space, energy is everything. It operates the machines that keep everyone in the Flotilla alive. The machine which is responsible for our recycled food, our air, our heat… pretty much everything is run with energy. Without energy, we'll all die. Of course since we're talking about energy we get from the sun, we have virtually unlimited stock, plenty enough for everyone. Problem is that these Dragons took more than what we could gather and their methods of asking are violent at best, destructive at worst. They consume within seconds what we took months to gather. Of course the biggest reason is simply because we're Marauders. We're a bunch mean motherfxxxxr. It's a matter of principles. Simple as that.

As I load the bullets into cases, I noticed on the screen, the battle on the surface is getting even more intense in the earnest. The guns on those suit teams had been blaring nonstop, shooting god-knows how many hundreds of bullets and missiles taking down one dragon after another. Just then, a beeping sound can be heard.

Gobber nodded and shoves a pack of Bullet magazine into a backpack. "Reload 9, 20, and 10! Go!"

A bunch of teenagers, prolly my age don their smaller space suit and start rushing out of the airlock, carrying the bullet cases on their backpack right out of the open battlefield. I watched with excitement on the screen and one by one I can see them.

The Krogan carrying the bullet case, muttering RPG stuff is Fishleg. A literal (mis)translation of his Krogan name into human tongue by the VI resulted in that rather peculiar calling. Somehow the name stuck and he has to put up with it. Has an unnatural berserker issues but took a great interest in human games, specifically RPGs. This resulted in him spouting things in RPG sense. An oddity among the Krogan because he's quite clear headed.

The Turian holding a bazooka defending Fishleg while shouting a series of censored profanity is Snotlout. Again, a result of VI name translation gone horribly wrong. The guy has the tougher-guy-than-thou-hence-I-bully-thee attitude and a serious case of male supremacist. Not exactly convincing though.

The Quarian twins is Tuffnut (male) and Ruffnut (female) Vas Thorston are still arguing whose turn is it to blast the Dragons away. A mishap with their enviro-suit once caused an abundant amount of adrenaline to be administered to their veins. They described the experience as an eye opener and had an adrenaline pumper modified into their suits. The Adrenaline junkie twins were still at it even when a dragon snatched the guy they're supposed to reload.

And finally there's Astrid… who just finished reloading a suit-without escort-and was on her way back when the recently reloaded suit got shot seconds immediately after she left. Oh… she's one seriously hot babe… I sighed, longing evident in my eyes.

And damn… the thing about us, even the job as menial as reloading the soldiers on the field are just that much cooler. Way cooler than mine. I was about to join the fray when Gobber's wrench arm took me by the waist.

"Oh no you don't. You're not going out there."

"Please, I need to make my mark!"

"You've made plenty of marks kid. All in the wrong places."

"2 minutes! Just give me 2 minutes, and I'll go out and shoot down a dragon! Please, my life would've gone infinitely better! I might even get a date!"

"You can barely shoot a handgun, you can't ride a Suit without crashing, you can't even carry one of these!" Gobber had just pointed out on a case of bullets when one of the reloader boys took two of them easily and rush off again. Someone out there is in the need for a reload.

"Okay. You're right! I can't do those things. But I've made this to help me." I tapped a metal briefcase gently and all the sudden it spring out and a cybernetic metal gauntlet shot out, knocking an Asari commando out cold. "Oops."

Gobber sighed in irritation as he walked over to my nervous self, "See, now this right here, is what I'm talkin' about."

"It-It was just a mild calibration issue," I defended, "I can fix that. In time!"

"Hiccup," Gobber stated as he raised his hands, "If you ever want to get out there, fighting dragons," and then traced his hands around me, "You need to stop all this."

The two were quiet for a moment, as I was absorbing this information, until finally, "You just pointed to all of me."

"Yes," Gobber answered as he gently poked me in the chest, "That's it! Just stop being all of you."

I seriously had no idea what he meant, until I mockingly went, "Oh. Ohhhh."

"Ohhhh," Gobber shot right back at me.

"You sir are playing dangerous games keeping this kind of soldier here! There will be consequences!" I strain my voice, just to make a point.

"I'll take my chances." The Krogan, unmoved nor fazed simply snickered before he went back to his serious attitude and threw a couple of empty ammo cases. "Reload, now!"

"Grmbl…" I groaned as I carry belts and belts of ammo and packed them up.

Someday I'll go out there and prove I can kill a dragon. Dragon Slayer is the coolest job amongst the list of coolest jobs ever among the Marauders. Those guys in power suit that fought the Dragons head on? That's what I'm talking about. Being a Dragon Slayer means you're in a whole lot of different dimension with normal soldiers.

There are plenty of types of Dragons out there; and destroying just one will earn me something. Except the Terrible terrors, which are way too easy. They're the smallest class of dragons, and weak starfighters… some of them are even the size of drones. But there's nothing more satisfying than when you shoot down at least a thousand of these. The frigate class blue dragon is called the Deadly Nadder. In a word? Versatile. It got variable output Ion Cannons on its frontal hull and a whole set of missiles for scales. Bringing one down would definitely get me at least seen differently. A Gronckle is huge and tough through and through tank Dragon. A medium sized cruiser class dragon, but definitely the bulkiest and largest of all dragons. Weirdly, it uses multiple huge rotors for mobility. Bringing one down will definitely get me a date. The Hideous Zippleback is also a cruiser class with two frontal bridges (which means two heads) with a crapload amount of guns and weapons, and whole lotta alien firepower. Two heads, twice the promotion. And then there's the Monstrous Nightmare.

Just then, the Hooligan suddenly shook. A red Monstrous Nightmare just crashed into the hull again. That same Red cruiser Dragon Stoick shot. The shock caused some of the Dragon Slayer team on the surface fell off and spaced. Stoick gritted his teeth in anger at further loss of his men.

The Monstrous Nightmare is a generally red, relatively small Cruiser class Dragon which has this nasty habit of crashing into things before setting everything, including itself, on fire. It's still not fully understood how on earth the Dragon can keep itself ablaze in space where there are no oxygen to lit the flame. But it's always one heck of a conflagration. Only the best Slayer went after these guys.

The blazing Nightmare roared as its forward arms, which double as its wings start hammering at the Battlecruiser again, its claws start tearing a fresh new hole on the Hooligan.

"Get those spaced guys back to the surface! I'll deal with this." Stoick gripped his controller tight and press a few buttons. A huge chainsaw blade slid out from the lower parts of the rifles, and start buzzing loudly. Its buzzing edges turn bright red hot. Stoick fearlessly drove his Suit and tackle the blazing alien machine. The blades punctured the Dragon's chest area several times. Stoick even unload a couple shots while his blade is sawing its way through the sentient cruiser's tough plating for more damage. The Nightmare sounding its displeasure and began charging its breath, preparing to fire its particle nuclear fission cannon point blank, knowing it'll hurt Stoick more than it'll hurt it. At the last second, Stoick shoved the head away, pushing it upward. The dragon's cannon exploded in a stream of bright red hot beam which is completely off the mark.

Yep. Definitely only the best Slayer can go toe to toe with the Nightmare. Even ones with power suits large enough to go toe to toe brawl with these sentient alien cruisers. But the best prize… the big bad one… is the one dragon no one has ever gaze eyes upon.

A siren blaring as the VI gave another warning sign: "Warning! Singularity anomaly detected. Lightning storm imminent."

"Lightning storm in the middle of the space?" Stoick's eyes widened, realizing what it meant. Apparently, his opponent realized an even greater danger than itself had also arrived. Knowing that, it moved away from Stoick and throttle as far away as it could. Stoick saw a glimpse… a black hole appearing on the space surrounded with electricity. "GET DOWN!"

Suddenly a fast purple beam projectile shot out of the black hole, shattered the kinetic barrier of a dreadnought and punched a big hole on one of its boosters, effectively ripping it to two. Following, a black shape of an incredibly fast but small frigate class Dragon fly out of the black hole, went past the damaged ship, and right into another black hole which conveniently appear just right in front of it. All this, in a span of a few seconds.

THAT, was a Night Fury. A black, small, frigate class dragon that can warp jump from one black hole to another and fly at a near constant FTL speed. No one has ever caught a glimpse of it and all our radars gone haywire every time it appears. The only indication of the attack is the black hole anomaly, and the said lightning storm in the space. Other than this, it never steals energy (thank God for that), never show itself and…

Within a window of 3 seconds, another blackhole appeared and the Night Fury burst out, shot one of the dreadnought's larger turrets to oblivion and then warp jump again into another blackhole.

…never misses.

No one has ever brought down that particular Dragon. So I'm gonna be the first.

"Oh well, it looks pretty terrible." Gobber had replaced his prosthetic wrench with a large weapon arm composed of a fully automatic cannon and a missile launcher. "They need me out there. So Hiccup, man the station and remember. Stay. Put. Right. There. You know what I mean."

I nodded sarcastically. "Yeah, yeah."

The Krogan battlemaster put on his space power suit and jumped out of the airlock, roaring as it shoot bullets and missiles to a horde of Terrors.

"I'll never gonna get a girl like this…" Just then, the ship shook again and Hiccup saw that same Night Fury had just scored another shot. "Holy… alright. That's it. Enough waiting!"

And with that in mind, I left my post and brought my case. I stop right in front of the airlock. "Now let's see if this thing works." I drop the case on the floor and then the whole contraption it unravel. I placed my feet on the pads and placed my hands on the handle. Lifting the whole thing, the program activated on its own and began to unravel, covering my feet, my arms, and some part of my chest and finally, a helmet formed on my head. It's still half complete, and some of my body parts are still wide exposed… but the world's first collapsible portable power armor is here.

"Oi! Hiccup! What are you doing?" One of the soldiers noticed me and yelled.

"I'll be right back!" And with that, I jumped out of the airlock.

As soon as I'm out in open space, the M-boots on my suit activated and I stuck on the surface of the ship. I looked around the battlefield and saw one after another the dragons are being shot down. That's right. We're not exactly losing. We got big guns, we got the guys, we got the ships… the only thing we don't have… crew. The Dragons came in every month, we shoot down like… hundreds of them… and they never seem to run out of crew. Worse… in the last few months their attacks have been intensifying.

But since things going pretty nice… somewhat… I think I'm allowed at least this. I dropped the package in my hand and it unravel into a rocket launcher, one that I have tinkered with. I shoulder it over and look through the targeting scope. For months, I've been doing some research on the Night Fury's attack pattern. It never aims at energy cores. It always directed its targets on objects of offensive capability, particularly ones that prove to be problematic to the swarm like turrets or suits that killed too much dragon. This Night Fury is designed to take out strategic targets, and it's really is the best at what it does. Throughout this battle two turrets have been giving the invading party too much trouble. The first one was already blasted out… the other is just in front of me. 9 out of 10, it'll hit here next.

"Not tonight. Tonight, I'm taking you down…" My eyes switched from the radar to the targeting scope time and again. And then… "Come on… give me something to shoot, give me something to shoot, give me something to sh-"

"Singularity Anomaly detected. Lightning Storm imminent."

"There!" a black hole appeared and a purple beam burst out, taking out the turret. At almost the same time, a blur appeared out of the black hole and I fired the bazooka, the recoil knocked me off my feet by the way. Midair, the customized missile split into smaller missiles, each had an eerie blue glow.

Whatever creature the missiles had locked on to was shocked and tried to run, the missiles hit it full. Multiple blue EMP rinse light the space and then, when the explosion is over, I saw the silhouette of the Dragon made atmospheric re-entry by way of planetfall towards Berk's asteroid ring.

"Yes… YES! I DID IT! YEAH! I DID IT! Did anybody see that!"

Just then I heard clanking sound from my back… and saw a Monstrous Nightmare looking straight at me, angry, as always.

"Anybody except you, please."

And I start running and screaming while the Nightmare starts spitting firebeams and the lot at me.

At the distance, Stoick had just lop off a nadder's head point blank when he saw a familiar figure screaming bloody murder. He sighed in exasperation. "KEEP THEM AWAY FROM COM TOWER!"

"Yes sir!"

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!" I ran and hide behind the first object I found. Just in time as the stream of fire beam burst out from my back and severely burning whatever object I took cover with. As I turned around, a mechanical growl came from my back. The giant alien warship was staring at me in the face. A small scar can be seen on its upper carapace.

"I can't believe this… you're that mad at the commander?"

The Nightmare might have wanted to answer with a roar and a fireblast, if a missile didn't hit it in the face first. I looked and saw a black and white powersuit with a smoking barrel.

The dragon reels from the impact, and attempts to recover, shrieking madly. Leaping down from the ledge he was on, the commander furiously unload everything he has in his suit into the Nightmare. The Nightmare was furious, recognizing its nemesis. But eventually, it sense no other alternative and finally gives up its prey and flies away with an angry roar. The thing is, as it lifted off, its tail knocked the tower. The same com tower that I had use to take cover.

The com tower, now burning from top to bottom, collapses and smash through a part of the Hooligan.


A clanking stomp sounded on my com and I turned around to see the commander opening the filter of his helmet, allowing me to see his angry and grim face. I am so screwed.

Oh… and there's one last detail…

"Sorry… Dad." Yes, he's my father.

"Hiccup, I want you in my office in half an hour."

"Yes sir."

Half an hour later, Captain's quarter


If an Alien was asked if the commander's voice can be heard outside the ship, they would probably say yes. That particular Alien being Gobber, who winced as he eavesdropped just behind the door.

"But I hit a Night Fury! It's not like the other times, maybe we can get a search party…"

"Stop! Just stop. Son, can you not see I have bigger problems? We've been orbiting the planet for 7 generations… that's 300 years. We just set a record of being the longest Marauder never to pacify a planet! The Council have been hounding my door, asking why, after 3 centuries of us bleeding them dry of resources, we still can't establish even one colony on Berk! Should I tell them one of the many reasons, is that because every time my son steps outside, disaster falls? Why can't you follow the simplest orders?" Hiccup could tell his father was frustrated. The boy shuffled nervously while hanging his head, understanding their plight.

That's right. For 300 years, the Flotilla Hooligan has been orbiting the planet Berk. Their goal was ultimately the colonization of the said planet, but they've never succeeded. In 7 generations, the colony never survives any longer than a week. Thanks in no small part, to the Dragon's constant harassment. The Dragons had apparently established a foothold of their own, somewhere in the planet. But for some reason, the fleet has never been able to pinpoint the exact location, preventing any orbital bombardment.

"Well, it's just who I am, Dad; When I see a dragon, I have to just… kill it, you know?"

Stoick sighed heavily, his palm on his forehead. "Son, you're… many things, but a dragon-slayer isn't one of them. I-" whatever it was Stoick wished to say never get finished because the com beeps. "What?"

Came Spitelout's voice. Stoick's third in command. "The com tower has been replaced… there's a call from the Council… sir."

"Can't you pick it up for me? I'm in no mood for more nagging…"


"Alright!" He swung his arms exasperatedly. "On them in 5." He pressed another button, and the door slid open. Gobber stumbled in. "If you weren't my friend, eavesdropping could you get you shot."

"I don't have to try really." Gobber chuckled.

"Get him back to his room. I have his mess to clean up."

"Yes… sir." Resigned to his fate as the generation latest model for a jarhead, Hiccup trudge back with Gobber on his back.

My bunkmates weren't particularly encouraging either. When I went in, all I got were cynical remarks and laughter.

"Nice going there."

"Seriously, I have never seen anyone screw up that badly before. Hah!" Snotlout had his head smacked lightly on the back by Gobber.

Hiccup swallowed everything in. As he made his way to his room, he could only spill everything to the only person who will listen… in a way.

"Gobber, I really shot down a Night Fury."

"Of course you do." The krogan rolled his eyes, a portion of him not believing the boy's story.

"He never listens."

"Runs in the family."

"And every time he does, it's always with this… disappointed scowl on his face." Hiccup finally spilt all his frustration, ranting on with a mock copy of his father's tone. "Excuse me Bartender, I think you brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra-large boy with beefy arms. With a cocktail of Extra guts and glory. This here, this is a talking toothpick!"

Gobber sighed. "Now see here, you're getting this all wrong. It's not what you look like in the outside. It's what inside you that he couldn't stand."

A seriously wrong way to brighten a downed teenager. But a good try. Hiccup smirked and reply with his trademark dry humor. "Thank you for summing that up."

Gobber clearly realized his pep talk didn't exactly hit the mark. So he finally simply added. "Look what I'm tryin to say is… not all of us are meant to be warriors. Stop trying so hard to be something you're not."

"I'm just trying to be one of you guys." And with that, Hiccup close the door to his bunk, leaving Gobber, who, again, grieving for being at lost on what to say.

If this story is well received… I'll post the next chapter.

M-Boots: Stand for Magnetic Boots. Originally, it's more often to be used by engineers for fixing the extremities of a ship. However, in combat against dragons, the Marauders found it is more efficient to fight the dragons outside, on the surface of the starship. This is to better prevent the Dragons from breaking into the interior of the ship, where they can cause even greater havoc. With the Dragon's habit of latching unto ships, draining electricity, turrets can be rendered inactive once the power core has been drained. Hence, the M-Boots were applied to the padding of the Power Suit and soon it was also mass produced and became a staple for every Marauder on the Hooligan fleet.

Dragon Slayer: The power suit GrAMM (Gyro Aligned Mobile Marauder) was built using YMIR mech chasis. The Marauders found the hard way that using a purely droid army against the Dragons is like inviting them to an all you can eat buffet. And so, the Ymir was redesigned to allow manual control. The Droid became power armor with shield and armor, but 60% of its weight was bear by the driver, necessitating a fairly strong pilot. The resulting power suit however was even larger than the droid itself. The Dragon Slayer was designed to utilize heavy weaponry that would sometimes necessitate non human to utilize. That being said, the Power suit utilizes not the more common heat sink system commonly found on infantry weapon. Instead, it utilizes the traditional ammo reload system with customized ammo. Sometimes, the suits were lined with some Eezo, reducing its weight significantly. But this practice is too expensive as it requires the installment of a portable zero element drive, and it's too expensive for mass production.