Troki cocked his head backwards and downed the rest of his beer. Once the last drop touched his lips he threw it into the darkest corner of the tiny space-ship. The aluminum bounced badly along the metal floor and lodged itself in a small niche in the wall. Troki breathed a deep sigh and smiled. Another day in this universe and all the luxuries it afforded…if he played his cards right. He shook his head of that dream, knowing too well if he lingered too long he would get nothing done.
Troki made his way to the front of the ship, the sound of his boot hitting the metal floor resounding through the ship in a lonely echo before he finally eased himself into the comfy chair at the helm. Before his was a window that revealed a marvelous galaxy filled with a mixture of fiery stars, as if painted by a mad-man. Troki tapped at the console, booting up the main functions for space travel. As he did he also re-activated the computer AI that was storied on the ship. She was simple and old-school, like this ship, but she had everything he needed.
“Set a course for…the nearest outpost, wherever the hell that is,” Troki ordered the blue screen.
“Course set for nearest Colonial Outpost in the Dunlonian region,” the AI chimed.
“Thought so…show list of illegal rankings, category, pirate,” Troki requested.
A hologram if the listings began to buzz in front of Troki. It was slowly being filled out, but he knew well enough that it would take a while.
“An entire universe at your fingertips, Troki, and this is what you decided to become?” Troki remembered his father saying. “There are so little good people in this universe…so little. If we had decided to drop everything and take what wasn’t ours we would no longer be a part of that handful. Now look at you. You’re corrupt and being chased by the corrupt. I would have expected as much from your sister, but not you.”
“Perhaps you never knew me, dad,” Troki murmured to himself.
The listings pinged after being updated. Troki began to scroll through them, gradually going higher and higher. The higher he went without seeing his name the more anxious he became. Eventually, his name flashed on the screen at the fourth ranking. It was marvelous to see. Above him were the top three. An elite group of pirates with more of a chaotic standing in the laws eyes than Troki. The one who sat at the second rank was his sister, Lo.
Troki stared at her picture for a long moment. Her darkened, sad eyes stared back at Troki until he could no longer stand it and wave his hand through the hologram to shut it down. The view of space returned, this time, he could see the movement of the stars as the speed of the space-ship increased. Troki was about to initialize a jump to the outpost when something caught his eye and he slowed the ship down.
Against the light of another planet he could see the silhouettes of space debris that resembled that of another ship. It was a terrible sight, but not an uncommon one. Troki would have ignored it with a small pang of guilt, but after thinking of his father so recently he couldn’t help but investigate and quite possibly, help someone.
Troki adjusted the course manually and made his way closer. He flicked another switch a small communications system lit up on the dash. Sure enough, there was a faint distress signal coming from the wreckage. Troki listened to the unclear noise of a soft begging voice. He hesitated before making his decision knowing full well that there were pirates that faked this stunt and ambushed the unsuspecting ship. However, the wreckage and voice were too believable for him to ignore.
As he made his way closer he pulled the ship to a stop amongst the wreckage, hearing the faint sound of small pieces of metal bounce lightly against his space-ship. Troki tapped the communication link button and spoke to the crippled ship.
“Help is here, can you please identify which part of the wreckage you are in?” Troki asked.
The faint voice crackled through the speakers and Troki noted the most distinct word; cargo. With that he had all that he needed; he walked to the airlock, sealing a helmet tight over his head and collecting a second suit and helmet with it. A minute later he took a calming breath and stepped out into the void. The jetpack he used sparingly, letting himself drift closer to the cargo section of the space craft. Once there he slowed himself down and neared one of the windows. Staring through the glass he could see a darkened ship, sparks flickered in one corner quite distinctly. There was enough light to make out a humanoid seated against one of the walls holding its stomach.
Troki gave the humanoid a small wave to which it replied with a weak wave of its own. Troki gestured to the left and right and shrugged. The humanoid understood he was looking for an airlock and pointed to the left. Troki didn’t waste any time as he floated around the wreckage. There was indeed a small lever that opened the air lock, revealing an anti-vac grid that ensured the occupants wouldn’t be sucked into the darkness. Troki passed through and jogged up to the survivor.
It was a young man with a small amount of blood on his lips, but plenty lining his stomach. He stared at Troki’s mask, mouthing the word help over and over again as tears filled his eyes. Troki lifted the survivors hand and retrieved a small capsule from his belt. He stretched the capsule to a plastic-like stick longer than the wound. With a flick downwards onto the wound it separated into a chrome liquid, flatting itself over the survivor’s stomach. Immediately the chemical high eased the man’s pain and made it easier for Troki to suit him up. Troki pulled the man along through space towards the ship.
A few minutes later and he was carrying the man over his shoulders towards the medical table, placing him on top carefully and letting the machinery do the rest. Troki didn’t feel easy about the ordeal, but the gratitude in the survivor’s eyes let him know that the kid wasn’t a threat, whatever did such damage to the ship was. It wasn’t destroyed with explosives or cut with plasma; it was torn apart like a man tears paper.