Max's POV
I have always been the kid who stared too long at the sky.
Most people on the trade colony of New Horizon saw stars as distant pinpricks—pretty, sure, but useless.
I saw treasure maps. Escape routes.
The jagged outlines of pirate ships slicing through the black, engines flaring like defiant middle fingers to every boring rule below.
The colony itself was a floating rust bucket in low orbit: endless rows of cargo cranes, merchants yelling about tariffs, and the same three bars playing the same tired jukebox tracks.
People worked double shifts unloading freighters, slept in cramped hab-units, and woke up to do it all again.
I grew up watching it all from the edge of the main viewport, my forehead pressed to the cold glass, dreaming of anything else.
Late at night, when the station dimmed for "maintenance hours," the illegal ships came.
They didn't announce themselves.
No docking clearance.
No polite comms chatter.
They just appeared—sleek shadows against the starfield, engines so quiet you felt them more than heard them.
Adults spat curses and changed the subject.
Kids whispered legends in the corridors.
I never whispered.
I shouted.
When I was ten, I cornered my father in the kitchen unit after dinner, arms waving and eyes huge with excitement.
"I'm gonna be a space pirate, Dad. Not just any pirate—the greatest outlaw in the whole galaxy."
He laughed so hard he nearly dropped his bulb of cheap synth-whiskey.
"Max," he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes, "you? A pirate?"
"Yeah! I'll go on so many adventures!"
He shook his head, still chuckling.
"Look, Max… pirates are dangerous. Maybe you should pick a different dream. Like being a cook or something."
My father ruffled my hair.
"You're gonna get yourself killed one day, kid."
He wasn't wrong.
He was just wrong about the part that mattered.
Ten years later I was in my mid-twenties.
Still broke.
Still stuck on the same colony.
Still staring at the sky like it owed me something.
I stood on the edge of Orbital Dock 7, boots planted on the grated walkway, jacket open to the recycled air.
Cargo haulers drifted past in neat lines.
Military patrol cutters swept slow arcs.
Transport shuttles bobbed like fat ducks.
None of them mattered.
Because at the far end of the dock sat the ship.
Black hull so dark it swallowed the overhead lights.
Sharp swept-back wings that looked like they could slice through atmosphere or vacuum with equal ease.
Engines idling a low, hungry blue.
It didn't belong here among the fat traders and rule-followers.
It looked impatient.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
My brain lit up like a shorted console.
This is it.
"That's my ship," I muttered to myself.
I started walking before I could talk myself out of it.
Long strides. Hands in my pockets. Trying to look like I belonged.
Nobody stopped me.
Nobody even glanced twice.
First warning.
Ignored.
The boarding hatch stood slightly open.
Like an invitation.
I slipped inside.
The corridor glowed soft orange along the walls. The air smelled like hot metal, trace ozone, and something faintly expensive.
This wasn't some junk hauler patched together with duct tape and bad decisions.
This was a legend parked in plain sight.
I found the bridge in under thirty seconds.
Dropped into the pilot's chair.
Leather creaked under me.
Controls sprawled everywhere—touchscreens, banks of switches, and one comically large red button labeled EMERGENCY.
I had no idea what ninety percent of it did.
Didn't matter.
I wrapped both hands around the yoke and grinned so wide my overbite showed.
"Alright, ship," I said.
"Let's start our pirate journey."
A voice behind me spoke.
Completely unimpressed.
"You know… most people ask before stealing my ship."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Slowly, I turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Long black hair spilled from beneath a wide-brimmed tricorn hat. A layered coat hung over a fitted vest and blaster holster. Her arms were crossed.
Her large eyes narrowed with perfect boredom.
Her overbite mouth was set in a flat line that said she had seen this situation before—and wasn't impressed.
"You done?" she asked.
I blinked.
"…Maybe?"
She sighed, long and dramatic.
"You sat in the captain's chair."
"Yeah."
"And you tried to start my engines."
"Correct."
"Were you planning to steal my ship?"
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Considered lying.
Gave up.
"Yeah," I admitted.
She studied me for a long moment.
Then asked something I didn't expect.
"Why?"
Not Who are you?
Not Get off my ship.
Just… why.
So I told her the truth.
"I want to become the greatest pirate in the galaxy."
Her eyebrow lifted.
"You?"
"Yeah."
"You don't even know how to fly a ship."
"Well… maybe you could teach me?"
She laughed.
"Teach you? You tried to steal my ship."
"Technically yes," I said. "But I have my reasons."
"And what reason was that?"
"I want to be the world's greatest space pirate."
She smirked.
"That's funny."
"Why?"
"Because so do I."
That made me smile.
Two idiots with the same dream.
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed again.
"You know whose ship this is?"
"Nope."
"My father's."
She tapped the console.
"The greatest pirate who ever lived."
My stomach dropped.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"And you tried to steal it."
"…Correct."
"And now I'm standing here."
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"This feels like a bad situation for me."
"Probably."
She hopped onto the edge of the console, legs swinging slightly.
"I'm Ashley."
"Max."
She looked me up and down.
"You've got guts, Max."
"Thanks?"
"Most people won't even touch this ship."
"Well," I shrugged, "it looked cool."
She smirked.
Then she held up a finger.
"Alright."
"Alright what?"
"If you want to be a pirate so badly…"
She grinned.
"Let's do a quick interview."
"…An interview?"
"A pirate interview."
I sat up straighter in the chair.
"Okay. I can do interviews."
"Good."
She raised a finger.
"First question."
"What's the number one rule of being a pirate?"
I thought about it.
"…Steal a lot?"
Ashley shook her head.
"Wrong."
She leaned forward.
"The first rule is never trust anyone who says they're honest. Especially pirates."
"Wow," I said. "That's incredibly comforting."
She raised another finger.
"Second question."
"What do pirates value more than treasure?"
"…Bigger treasure?"
She stared at me.
"No."
"Freedom."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay that one actually makes sense."
"Third question."
"You board a ship with twice your firepower. What do you do?"
"Run?"
Ashley grinned.
"Correct."
I pointed proudly.
"Yes!"
"Don't get cocky," she said.
"Final question."
She leaned closer.
"Why do you really want to be a pirate?"
I paused.
Because the answer wasn't heroic.
It was simple.
"I'm tired of living on a station where every day is the same."
I gestured toward the viewport.
"I want adventure. I want to explore the galaxy."
I shrugged.
"And yeah… treasure would be nice too."
Ashley stared at me for a moment.
Then she laughed.
"You're terrible at pirate trivia."
"Hey."
"But you've got something better."
"What's that?"
She slid into the captain's chair.
"Stupid levels of courage."
She pointed at the co-pilot seat.
"Congratulations, Max."
"You're hired."
I blinked several times.
"Wait—seriously?"
"Yep."
"You and me are gonna be the greatest space pirates in the galaxy."
"The world will remember our names."
"You're not mad I tried to steal your ship?"
She shrugged.
"Honestly?"
"Kinda impressive."
The engines hummed to life beneath us.
A deep vibration ran through the deck and into my bones.
Ashley flipped a few controls.
The ship lifted smoothly from the dock.
Stars filled the forward viewport.
Sharp.
Endless.
Beautiful.
Ashley glanced sideways at me, a tiny smirk forming.
"Ready to become the greatest pirates in the galaxy?"
I grinned wide.
"Hell yeah."
The ship surged forward.
Engines flared bright blue.
The trade colony shrank behind us.
And just like that—
Our legend began.