My eyes flutter open, the ceiling fan spinning, a low hum emanating from the blades. My eyes scan around the room, a dimly-lit apartment room, the shadow of the Venetian blinds casting across the bed. I sit up, my arms folding back the blanket. I grunt, still drowsy from just waking up, my throat feeling hoarse. I stand up, the harsh carpet floor under my bare feet. I walk over to my dresser, throwing on a dark blue t-shirt, a faded grey pair of jeans, and a dark brown trench coat. I open the Venetian blinds, the morning sunlight beaming through my window, illuminating the room. Moving to the kitchen to make breakfast, I cook up bacon and eggs, a perfect meal to start my day. “Just another day…”

I eat it relatively quickly, browsing the Spectrum, a modernized form of the ‘internet’ , an ancient network used for communication and information. “Nothing of interest…” I mutter to myself. As if on cue, a new article suddenly appears in the job listings. “MARIE F. HERSCHEL – WANTED – 1.8 MILLION CREDIT REWARD” it reads, in large capital letters. A low whistle escapes from my mouth. “That’s more than a businessman’s yearly salary” I think to myself. I hurriedly eat the remainder of my breakfast, reading information about the target’s last known whereabouts.

“The Cathcart system…. must be headed to Spider” I think, remembering about Spider, the large, lawless outpost on the fringes of a lifeless star system. I rush out the door, leaving my plate on the table, unwashed.

I walk briskly, not fast enough to attract attention, yet fast enough to make good time to my ship, passing the shopping district, on my way to the landing zones. I have to push past the morning job-finding crowds on the outskirts of the shopping district, the wealthy, poor, and corrupt alike.

I walk onwards, heading past the casinos, Advocacy officers outside, keeping the law upheld, and the anarchists in the prisons. “To Protect and Serve” they say. Most of the general public don’t even know that half of them are corrupt, taking bribes from pirates and bandits alike.

I finally reach the landing zones, taking the elevator down to my hangar, the noisy, industrial-grade elevator heading down to my hangar’s level. It comes to a jarring halt, then suddenly lurching to the left, sliding to my hangar, my legs already prepared for the jarring. After years of living here, you get used to the poor, industrial-grade elevators.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing a large, open hangar, dimly lit, painted in dark greys and yellow caution stripes near the hangar doors at the end. My only ship is waiting patiently inside. An Aegis Dynamics Avenger, an ex-Advocacy pursuit ship. It’s fast, tough, and has space for my specialised equipment. I walk over to it, visually inspecting every inch of its curved, sweeping bodywork.

“Not even a scratch”  I say to myself. I open my mobiGlas, a wrist-mounted device from which I can communicate, access the Spectrum and manage almost any aspect of my funds. Opening the rear cargo ramp using my mobiGlas, I step inside, closing the mobiGlas down as I step inside. The cargo ramp closes behind me, the thumping of the clamps locking into place reverberating throughout the ship. I’m grateful for the locking clamps, I wouldn’t have my job if they didn’t exist. I’d have no other way to bring in my targets if they didn’t.

I step through the front of the cargo bay, the front door of the cargo bay closing behind me, the circular lock twisting around, a slight clicking as the locking latches clamp into their respective receivers. I’m in the bed area now, the bed off to my left, hidden behind a glass window. I have to duck to avoid banging my head on the struts that cross the ceiling. Even though this area is rather small, I’m impressed there’s this much room in a small, single-seater craft like this. My boots clunk along the hard metal floor as I inch towards the cockpit, the cramped area slowing my movement. The door to the cockpit opens automatically, the circular lock unwinding itself as I approach, a small woosh coming from the door as it slides open, presenting a comfortable seat facing back towards me. I clamber into it rather clumsily, still a little drowsy from having to rush out so early. As I settle into the seat, it slowly rotates around, pointing forwards now so that I can launch.

I rest my hands on my lap, mentally preparing myself for the job ahead. A big reward payout like this usually means trouble. I’m going to need all of my wits about me to get this job done. My hands find themselves moving off my lap, inching their way forwards towards the dual control joysticks. “Let’s go” I say to myself, steeling myself mentally for the journey ahead. My hands briefly leave the control sticks, my fingers flying across the control panels on either side of my body. I notice a slight vibration in the ship, a quiet whistling noise growing into a whirring noise.

“Welcome aboard, commander. Aegis Dynamics prestige awaits you” blares the computer, in its usual military-style monotone voice. “Thrusters; online” it croaks again. “Systems; nominal” I ignore the computer running its checks, and place my hands back on the control sticks, my thumbs resting on the top of the sticks, my index fingers resting on the trigger guards, preventing myself from accidentally discharging my weapons. I’d be a wanted man if I did something stupid like that. My left hand slowly pulls back, the whirring noise growing louder, into a barely-roaring noise. The ship slightly shudders as it lifts off, the suspension in the wheels expanding. I request lift-off clearance from flight control, the automated voice audible, even over the rumbling of my ship.

“Permission Granted” it growls, even more monotonous than my ship’s computer. The bright spinning beacon glowing a bright green. I hear a loud clunking, the hangar doors opening. They slide open with a low rumble, revealing the brightness of the outside world. “Enjoy your travels” the hangar’s automated voice blares. My left hand slowly inches forward, sliding the entire control stick forwards. I hear the main engine roaring quietly as it pushes my ship forwards. I inch towards the hangar doors, slowly escaping the captivity of my hangar.

I gun the throttle, slamming the left stick forwards, pulling the right-hand control stick back simultaneously, the nose of my ship ascending, pointing up into the overcast sky. I glance back over my shoulder, the hangar doors closing behind me. After the uneventful, yet always-exciting ascent, I find myself up in space, orbiting the planet below me. ArcCorp is surprisingly pretty from space, even though it’s an entirely industrial planet, the entire surface covered in either factories, hangars or shops, the occasional apartment block littering any possible area available. The planet itself is named after ArcCorp, the multi-trillionaire company that bought the entire planet, quickly evolving it into a central hub for all their factories and workers.

Up here in orbit, it’s quiet, almost deathly quiet, the only audible noises coming from my breathing and the gentle hum of the ship’s computers. My hands briefly leave the flight sticks, flying across the control panels, rapidly tapping in commands. A harmonica begins to play an old tune. My hands return to the flight sticks, a slight smile on my face. I set a course for the Cathcart system. The harmonica tune playing in the background fills my senses, the occasional radio chatter between passing freighters filling the lulls in the song. A few minutes pass, my ship nearing the jump gate to the Cathcart system. I gun the throttle once more, hurtling myself into the gate.

I come out the other side, about half an hour from Spider, the criminal hideout. The only reason the Navy or Advocacy don’t turn up here is because there’s nothing of use to them here. The Navy’s got far better equipment than these low-lifes, and the Advocacy would get shredded by the sheer volumes of pirates and less-than-legal mercenaries. I power down my weapon systems, reducing my radar signature. After another few minutes of travel, I tuck into a small crevice in a nearby asteroid. I can see the only jump gate out of this system from here, so if my target goes for it, she’s dead in the water, so to speak. I power down the ship almost completely, leaving only the scanners and life support operational, floating only a few metres from the bottom of the crevice. “And so begins the long wait” I say to myself.

An hour later, a single target pops up. Just a single Drake Interplanetary Cutlass, one of the most popular pirate craft ever to be made, though Drake Interplanetary maintains that the docking collar and tractor beam are for “Search and Rescue” . I wait a few more seconds, waiting for a complete scan. “PILOT: UNKNOWN” reads the scanner display. “It might be her…” I think. I power up the engines, though only barely. I slowly start following the craft, checking my rear, no other craft following. I engage the communications, purposely re-routing power out of them.

“Help me, I’m having issues with my ship” I say, faking a worried voice. To the target, it should sound distorted and crackled due to the lack of power. Hopefully. The reply takes a second, but it comes.

“Yes, of course. We’ll tow you to the nearest base” a female voice responds. I’m convinced this is my target.

“Okay… thank you” I reply, my heart pounding. This girl must be dangerous if she’s worth a yearly salary. I stop the ship, a tow clamp attaching to the nose of my Avenger. I feel a lurch as the Cutlass turns around, pulling me along with it.

“Can I get your name? Getting a favor by someone I don’t even know goes against my morals” I say, still leaving my communications without enough power to function at it’s best. “Sure. Call me Herschel. Filipa Herschel”. My eyes widen. It’s her. I know it. I sit there in silence as she pulls me towards the station. “What if she knows I’m a bounty hunter…?” I ask myself silently.

We get closer and closer to the station, nearing one of the landing hangars. She disconnects the tow rope, my ship gliding in effortlessly. I set down on the landing pad. I hear a distant rumble grow into a large roar. As I glance over my shoulder, I see her Cutlass looming over my ship, aiming its guns directly at my cockpit. I hear the communications crackle slightly.

“Well, now you know my name. And you’re probably after my bounty, yeah? Well, you found me.” is all she croaks out.

“I forgot to wash my plate this morni-” is all I think before I see the flash of the cannons.

Haydz