I forgot how shit my writing used to be.
Worry not, I'm working on something a lot better, with structure and writing not made by the equivalent of a drunk three-year-old
Bes’uliik fighter, inbound to Teth.
My mission is simple: get in, kill pirates, and get out. I don’t really have anything against them, but they’ve been jacking merchant ships in this sector for the past couple of months. Some corporation boss wants them dead, he has money, and I’m happy to oblige. It isn’t a pretty picture, but it’s how the galaxy works. Five minutes later, I land a few klicks out from their hideout, a long abandoned monastery, recently re-purposed by the pirates for a base. Even from here you can see the stripped down remains of merchant ships, and the glint of a force field. Ten minutes of hiking brings me to the bottom of the plateau, where, for some reason, there’s a door to the complex. Oh well. I was hoping to use my jetpack. I take a lightsaber from my back, one of my earliest trophies, and begin to slice around the edge of the door, the green blade cutting through the light durasteel like butter. On the other side was the beginning of a long spiral staircase, lit by flickering glow rods mounted on the walls. Our team started up the stairs, weapons readied, but there was nothing even remotely threatening. No sensors, gates, guards, anything in the way of security. I guess they felt safe; all tucked up in their base, the big bad wolves of the space lanes. I guess they didn’t realise there were a lot of bigger, badder wolves out there. The staircase opens into a hall lined with cages, filled with an eclectic assortment of humans, aliens, and rare animals. This just became personal. Slavers really get my blood running. I can’t do anything about the captives without alerting the pirates, but I’ll come back later. The hall leads to a small blast door, which is actually locked. Perhaps they’re getting smarter. As I start to burn through the lock, I hear a thump from behind. The 360 vision in my HUD shows a door blocking the staircase, and two K-5 droids clomping out from behind the cages, blasters aimed. I spin, EE-3 raised, and squeeze off a few shots into the one on the left, spinning it around with sparks trailing from its torso. I just manage to dive behind a crate as the remaining one opens up with the heavy cannon in its arm, throwing a stream of energy toward where I had been standing a moment before. This one has heavier armour, though that also makes it slower. After the comparative silence, the blaster fire was loud enough to alert a deaf Weequay, so I think I can use an explosive. Careful to keep my head down, I pull a thermal detonator from my belt and arm it, before tossing it towards the droid. The massive blast is concentrated within the small room, throwing me against the wall, with the crate only just missing me. I’m a little battered, but the droid is in worse shape. Both of its legs have been blown off, and a jagged piece of shrapnel has lodged in its shoulder. It still isn’t dead though, so I leap on top of it, and plunge a vibroblade into the back of its head. A shower of sparks and a spray of oil splatter over my gauntlets, and then everything is still. I can hear one of the creatures –some kind of lizard- making a squelching sound. Upon closer inspection I see a shard of metal lodged behind its front leg. Nothing I can do, but a pity none the less. I move back to the door and proceed to slice through. On the other side are a few pirates with blasters, which I dispatch with a few quick shots. I grab a key card from one of the corpses, and proceed through the complex. Eventually I arrive in a large domed hall, full of discarded bottles of ale and lit by a few small lights in the middle of the room, casting deep shadows around the edge of the hall. The room is full of carousing pirates, who slowly turn to look at this uninvited guest. I start shooting before they can respond, mowing down at least ten before some of the quicker witted ones, galvanised by seeing their comrades’ fall, return fire. My plates take the blaster fire, while I turn on my flamethrower and slowly pan it across the room. The smell of charred flesh filters through my helmet, as burning bodies stumble and then lie still. Three got away, including the leader. A barrage of darts fells the two minions, and a shot to the kneecap trips up the leader. As I stalk over to him, I can hear him sobbing and pleading for his life. “Please, spare me! I’m just trying to make a living! I’m just trying to survive!” “Well” I say, “I guess you’re not doing a very good job at it.” Two shots to the head end him, and his pitiful cries. I know the money will be waiting for me when I get back, 800,000 in untraceable credit chips. I remember my silent promise to the slaves, and head off to free them.
Back in my cockpit I wonder if I’ll ever escape this life. But somebody needs to do this sort of work, so I may as well be that person.