With a dissatisfied grunt, our Freedom Rider flared its engines, beginning its acceleration.
The massive engines, only slightly smaller in size than the entire corvette, lit up the small station with light, but after a few seconds, we had moved far enough away to appear as only a tiny spark.
We were leaving the planet Mande, and the primal, boundless abyss of space opened up around me. The darkness of Hyperspace, illuminated by millions of blurring stars, was becoming my second home, and although I wasn't a master pilot, the flight brought me true satisfaction.
Every startup of the massive engine, every turn of the control handle—it felt as if I were interacting with a living organism.
Giving the ship a command, it responded responsively, contracting and straightening in space like a companion guided by a firm but gentle hand.
How beautiful it was! I felt the Freedom Rider pulsing under my fingers, as if it were revealing its secrets to me, embracing me with a construct made of mother stars.
As I set the course for the planet Roon, the space around us began to sparkle.
The first flight along a new hyper-route. Usually, such things are handled by special test pilots or madmen and fools... You can guess for yourselves which category I belong to.
Knowledge gleaned by Tali from the academy. Smugglers' rumors and some maps. Together, all this became a practically tangible road along which I was now flying.
A new route.
My hands gripped the yoke tighter for a moment, and as if sensing my excitement, the corvette's navigation computer hummed reassuringly, reporting that all telemetry was normal and no problems were foreseen for now.
Did that make me feel better?
Yes, it did. I felt as if I were one with the ship, and its multi-ton hull, this monumentality and cold determination to break through the bottomless space surrounding us—they recharged me, giving me self-confidence.
Every turn of the starry path was like a magic key opening new horizons, inviting me into new adventures. The walls of the bridge were surrounded by a soft, warm glow, and a unique sound quietly reached my ears, which could be compared to the merry laughter of distant stars. My ship, my reliable companion in this boundless sky, seemed to be smiling at me.
The objects around us, some tiny points of light in the deep cosmos, seemed like distant witnesses to my journey, and I felt the heat of delight and confidence flare up inside me once again.
Controlling the ship, I immersed myself in communion with every turn of its power fields, from the touch of my fingers to sharp maneuvers, feeling how it responded to my every request. It was an elegant choreography where I and my ship merged into a single whole.
The hyperspace tunnel, blurred and mesmerizing, enveloped our path like a light mist permeated with shimmering sparks.
In this state, I felt almost like a real mage, controlling flows invisible to ordinary eyes. I understood that turning the handle to adjust the course was a matter of fine-tuning; every change felt like a light touch on the strings of an instrument.
I heard how my ship responded to the movements, as if hinting—"I am with you, just believe in me."
In this smooth, almost meditative flight, it wasn't about agility or virtuosity. It was a moment when I performed every action with determination and confidence.
Enjoying the simple fact of being here, in this secluded cosmic dance, detaching myself from the anxieties and bustle of life on the planet. The cold light of the stars outside the windows spoke of distant worlds and possibilities waiting for their time, and I was ready to explore them.
With every moment, new shades broke through ahead: deep blue and dark gray—colors that could inspire even the most indifferent artist. In this majestic tapestry of space, I felt that the Freedom Rider was not just a ship at all; it was my friend, my guide through the sultry expanses of the Universe.
I mentally gained confidence, knowing that this path was not chosen by chance. We are together, just me and my ship, standing against the dull routine.
Never before in my life had I experienced anything like this, and I quite rightly asked myself, what if... What if Super Earth had granted us the right to control our ships? How would everything have turned out?
"Heh, pity I know the answer..."
It would have turned out shitty. Many times I had seen clones lose their minds, and having seen the dungeons of the Ministry of Truth's special services with my own eyes, I no longer doubted that if the Helldivers had such an opportunity—the ships would have gone for a ramming maneuver just to spite Super Earth one last time.
"5 minutes to hyperspace exit."
Nodding to the pilot droid, a faceless machine that sat in the pilot's seat much more often than I did, I let go of the control handles, allowing the droid to do its job. We had completed the route, at least the large and most difficult part. And now all that remained was to reach the planet that would provide us with the most necessary things for the coming years.
I myself leaned back thoughtfully in the chair.
Running the last few months through my head, I'm beginning to understand more and more that my naive dream of living for my own pleasure, resolving all conflicts peacefully—is nonsense. All the battles, wars, problems, and looming skirmishes. They delighted me, making me smirk with a grim smile. And not once, when I pulled the trigger, did I feel any doubt...
The moment I hear about another tyrant, king, or bandit who imagines himself a great ruler... I want to bring down upon his head the full might of Democracy gathered in my hands.
My shoulders tensed against my will as summaries of data from Orvax and Ryloth surfaced in my mind.
"Vile, rotten little planets, full of freaks who don't shy away from selling their own people and consider themselves masters. And the rest are happy to let them... Nothing, you bastards... Rejoice while you can."
"Exiting hyperspace."
Having wound myself up intensely, I grabbed the armrests with such fury that when the ship flew out into normal space, my body didn't even budge, while the droid was jerked to the side.
And the reason for this was that right in front of us froze the wreckage of a destroyed ship, around which flew pieces of mangled steel and the corpses of sentients, mostly Humans.
"Oh, not a day goes by without business," I said, pressing the radio broadcast button for the ship, turning the volume to maximum so all the boys would hear for sure. "Helldivers, looks like we've got a job ahead of schedule. Everyone, prepare for battle."
Obeying my non-verbal command, the Freedom Rider roared its engines and, increasing speed, swept under the hull of the ship... A large transport like that, looking like a giant larva. The oval-shaped ship gaped with holes, and most of the starboard side was gone, apparently flown off somewhere into the distance of the system.
But that wasn't what caught my attention.
As soon as we flew under the ship, our corvette was suddenly squeezed as if in a vice. With a metallic clang, a shadow fell over the ship, and six massive mechanical legs clamped us from the sides, preventing us from flying further.
"We are immobilized..."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious, I can see that without you," I said, waving off the dim-witted droid and switching to the link with the gun deck. "Joey, take a shot at these idiots who've got us in a grapple..."
"With pleasure, Boss!" Before he could finish, a pair of turbolasers aimed at the belly of the ship looming over us, but minutes passed, and no shots followed.
In the background, I heard the muttering of Joey—our chief calibrator and lover of big guns. The man sometimes broke into a shout, and the robotic voice of an assistant answered him.
Tired of waiting and watching as the ship of some weaklings docked with us, I called the gun deck again.
"Joey?"
"Um, Boss. The guns aren't firing. The droid says it's an attack... a super-attack."
"What the fuck is a super-attack?"
"E-er... I mean, a cyber-attack, yeah."
"Those are completely different words, Joey."
"Sorry, Boss."
"To hell with you. Put on your armor and get ready for a couple of shifts in the kitchen."
"Understood, sir."
"Can't do a damn thing... Well, purely my boys."
I urgently needed to blow off steam. And a battle in the narrow corridors of ships was exactly what I wanted most right now.
***
Krakht Som Ask—captain of a pirate scavenger ship—rubbed his hands in anticipation. Sitting in his cabin-bedroom, remodeled by special order, he fidgeted impatiently, even pushing away his loyal slave. Now another prize would be taken, and he could have fun with Mira later.
It had been three weeks since he had managed to accidentally open the way to this incredible system, hidden from prying eyes.
From birth, Krakht's life had been hard. Being a rather mediocre hunter and warrior, he nevertheless desired more, like all his kin, but the maximum that awaited him as he grew up was to join some run-down gang and die as a lackey in local squabbles over ryll or booze.
But fate is kind to those who don't give up, and when the chance came to join the crew of a scavenger-collector, Krakht immediately agreed.
Few chose this profession among Trandoshans, considering it beneath their dignity, but even then, the future pirate captain cherished his plan, and as soon as the chance arose—he executed it.
Having bribed most of the crew or lured them with promises, he killed the previous scavenger captain and, together with the crew, plundered a damaged ship hanging in orbit of a remote planet. Taking it apart piece by piece, stripping everything, including the cargo—they managed to make a decent profit, which only further convinced Krakht to act.
Years passed. His scavenger gained a good reputation, and in the systems of the Outer Rim, ships began to disappear frequently, entirely and completely, down to the last screw, only to surface later in another part of the galaxy in pieces.
And so Krakht would have lived, slowly accumulating wealth to buy more to commit robbery on a much larger scale, but not everything always goes smoothly...
Arriving at Rishi to sell his goods, he almost burned in the reactor fire of his own ship when a couple of cruisers took him in their sights. A short skirmish showed that no matter how much Krakht improved the scavenger, it still remained more of a transport than a warship, which could not be said of his opponents. "Flooring it," the Trandoshan, in a fit of fear, jumped to random coordinates.
True, this unpleasant accident led him to a much larger score, so the Trandoshan was not upset and only promised to take revenge if the opportunity arose.
A planet forgotten by the gods, far from the main routes. Hidden behind nebulae and dangerous anomalies of space.
Rich in slaves, jewelry, technology, and other small joys that wealthy bags from the Mid Rim would gladly buy up. For the sixth time now, he was visiting here to gather a rich harvest, and apparently, fate decided to provide him with a juicy bonus that only further assured him of his own genius and chosenness.
"A white s-s-s-streak, heh-heh-heh... Isn't that what the Humans say?" Krakht would say, scratching his belly on long evenings when food and slave girls sated him.
A brand-new corvette, a non-standard model with an expanded hangar, surely full of all sorts of goods, and fresh paint on its sides, flew into the system near them just as they finished processing the previous catch.
Another ship of soft-bodied warm-bloods was trying to leave the planet to bring help. Even if these fools hope for luck and most likely won't be able to cross the dangerous part of space that separates Roon from the rest of the galaxy, Krakht was not going to lose his prey or allow the slightest chance that someone else would arrive here.
The veteran pirate did not fear the Judicial Forces. On his improved scavenger, with a crew of nearly a hundred compatriots, the small vessels of the space police could only wash themselves in blood and become new merchandise on the endless slave markets. And the dreadnoughts are so slow that even his scavenger would outrun them and disappear before they could get within firing range.
He was more frightened by the prospect of bigger fish arriving here. Corporations or the Hutt Cartels... These guys were definitely trouble. They wouldn't waste time on trifles and would immediately show up here with an entire fleet that would begin milking the system dry, and the greedy Krakht didn't want that.
He dreamed of plundering Roon himself. Earning money for new subordinates and new ships, and then... who knows, maybe bring the planet under his control and become its sole ruler?
Smiling dreamily, the Trandoshan licked his hard lips, running his tongue over the rough growths on his skin. The remains of blood from a recent feast only egged him on, and he wanted more, so an unenviable fate awaited the crew of the small corvette. The holds were full of captives and loot, so he could indulge the crew of pirate-scavengers.
Giving the command, Captain Krakht watched the screen intently, which showed a broadcast from the shoulder camera of one of his fighters.
The agonizing seconds stretched like molasses. He wanted to get to the most interesting part as quickly as possible and skip the stages with screams, shrieks, and threats.
But as soon as the airlocks connected and the doors opened, a literal hail of fire hit his people. Multi-colored beams poured in a continuous stream, mowing down his boys. Dense clusters of blaster beams hit home, sometimes tearing off limbs and causing the cowardly pirates to scatter in panic.
Krakht's eyes widened in surprise. Through the narrow opening, several missiles flew right into the maw of his ship, blowing up the hangar and the trophies stashed there.
The scavenger was jolted from within. Souvenirs and all sorts of useless trinkets, like amulets and tribal signs, fell from the dashboard.
The fighter with the camera was one of the few still alive, and so Krakht was glued to the screen, simultaneously giving commands to undock the ship.
"KILL THEM ALL! FOR DEMOCRACY!"
The first soldier from the corvette flew right at the operator. Brandishing a blaster with a knife attached to the forend, he fearlessly threw himself at Krakht's kinsman and began disemboweling him, shouting some nonsense about Democracy...
And the rest followed behind him. Several dozen psychos raced right through the pirates' return fire, spraying from all barrels. On the move, they threw grenades, and some dropped to one knee and sent new missile gifts deep into his hangar.
Meanwhile, the fighter with the camera was impaled on the knife attached to the rifle. Bracing the butt of the rifle against his thigh, an unknown soldier in black-and-yellow armor lifted the operator above his head, causing him to writhe in agony, drenching the psychopath in blood.
"Need to get out of here. Computer, close the hangar! Do you hear me! Close it!" Nervously drumming on the keyboard, the Trandoshan tried to close the hangar himself or simply start the engines and fly away, ignoring the few survivors and the loss of all the loot. He could still get more goods, but surviving... that was the question. "Come on, the spirits take you! Close it!"
"Impossible. Repeat the request later."
"What?" Sinking into his chair, the pirate captain began watching the broadcast screen again. There, the crazy soldiers were tearing the hangar apart, breaking the drives and all systems, and in the most mundane way—by blowing up grenades in the right places. "Who the hell does it like that?"
Then an explosion thundered behind the door, and the Trandoshan stared in disbelief toward the exit. Panic slowly began to grip him, but Krakht wouldn't have become a pirate captain if the first sign of danger made him wet his pants.
Pushing away the Twi'lek slave who was watching the cameras with interest, Krakht paid no attention to her burning gaze. A long-broken slave was a proven tool; he even allowed her to stay with him at night after sex, trusting his own sleep to her.
Checking the map, Krakht began to realize with horror that too many extra holes had appeared in his ship. External cameras, as well as internal ones, showed Humans in black-and-yellow armor running through the corridors of his beloved scavenger, gutting his compatriots alive and freeing slaves.
BOOM!
Jerking nervously, Krakht looked at the door with fear. None of this could be happening. Only about ten minutes had passed, and most of the ship was decorated with the guts of his subordinates, and almost all systems were disabled.
Tapping the keys, Krakht began manually activating the escape pod. He didn't want to lose the ship that had brought him so much in the past, but...
He didn't want to die more.
A couple of clever movements of his clawed hands, and a hatch hidden under the bed opened, tossing the piece of furniture against the wall. A special modification installed after the first successful raid, for just such a case. The Trandoshan had never used it in all these years and, chuckling, had already thought he had wasted a huge amount of money, but...
"Not in vain, oh, not in vain. Krakht is smart. The smartest. No matter, I will still have my revenge. I'll gather a new crew. Buy another ship and..."
Unable to finish, the pirate captain felt a blow to his back. A first, a second, a third...
The blows fell without end, turning the strong alien's internal organs into mush. Knowing no mercy, the "loyal" slave Mira, like a sewing machine, plunged the hurriedly dropped knife into his body.
Her face was drenched in green blood, but the blue-skinned Twi'lek continued to strike even when the voice of the vile pirate and oppressor turned to a wheeze.
She continued to strike even when the door was blown off by an explosion and for a moment her view was obscured by smoke.
Mira struggled and screamed, continuing to at least kick the body from which the soldiers in black-and-yellow armor were dragging her away.
And only when a soldier with the severed head of Krakht sat down opposite her was she able to calm down.
"Feel it?" Handing her the hated head, the man opposite her tilted his head to the side. Inhaling the air, he took the knife from her hands and with all his might drove it into the head, knocking it out of Mira's hands and pinning the lizard's head to the floor. "That's freedom. Like it?"
***
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