A Space Pirate's Life For Me

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But as I saw each and every last one of their stupid faces—wide-eyed and jaws-dropped—in complete and utter terror moments before their ship exploded, all I could hear in my head above my uncontrollable, love-of-chaos-induced laughter was the blissful music-to-my-ears of what I imagined their petrified voices would've sounded like screaming.

As the last few bolts from the Ion cannons tore through the enemy ship, it lit up like one of their Fourth of July firework shows. I flipped-off the hairless-apes of Earth as my ship soared through the explosion, debris deflecting off the Navis Aeterna's plasma shields. Melted and splintered metal propelled outward from the explosion, scattered through space; floating aimlessly into the empty void amongst the stars.

My imagination is wild, sure. And I can usually picture almost every possibly way something would play out. Like my exceptional flight skills that brought the Navis Aeterna close enough to gun down those human bastards aboard another Milky-way Marauder ship. But it never comes close to actually destroying spacecrafts, stealing shit and soaring through the stars. I love it. I was born for it. Never in a million years was I ever going to join the old man's mining company.

Forget it.

What is Navis Aeterna? Really? That's your question? Yeah, alright. I have no idea what it means; we flogged it off some human ship we scrapped for parts. Ended up naming our ship after it. I suppose it would've just worked its way into the introduction of me and my crew—The Andromedan Boys. Wait, no—that's shit. What about: Starblazers? No, wait—that's complete shit too. I got it: Galactic Angels? Gah, fuck it! I'm not good at this. We'll get back to that later. And we'll get to our story, and why we just absolutely decimated another human-run vessel. Trust me, though, the Milky-way Marauders are not very liked in their own galaxy let alone the rest of the universe. They're dicks. Well-equipped, dangerous, dicks; but dicks nonetheless. That's what they get for people-trafficking. Happy to get rid of them. And the money for doing it, is always good too.

My co-pilot, Dez—an oversized red dude from the planet Drexis—let go of the control-wheel and slumped back in his seat, sighing in relief. The rest of the crew, manning the upper and lower wing and rear cannons, sent aggressively merry victory cheers up through the ship and into the cockpit.

"Relax, Dez, baby—you're so uptight all the time," I said when I noticed Dez close and rub his eyes. "Maybe when we get back to Ortega IV we'll get you one'a them Silian massages. You know the ones when they—" I began making an up-and-down hand gesture over my crotch region.

"No," Dez's deep, monotone voice interjected. "I just. Want to. Go. Home."

I frowned.

I've never stopped being frustrated with his seriousness and lack of the ability to enjoy himself. Or his constant need to analyze everything for logical approaches. Or just being the most mature and focused person in the room. I also never met a Drexin as stoically and honorably stern before. But I always supposed that's why he was my co-pilot. My numero-due, my 2-I-C—my best warrior, and closest compadre in life. I peered over my shoulder at the merciless gang of rabblerousing misfits shoulder-barging each other as they raced up the corridor to the cockpit—yelling and hollering at yet another victory and approximately one-hundred and fifty thousand credits to be split evenly. Arms and legs swung wildly, elbowing each other in the face. Proudly boasting and swearing vulgarly. It wasn't going to be one of them idiots to keep this crew under wraps. And I'm not playing daddy to these absolute run-amok children. At least not all the time. So I guess someone had to be.

Thanks, Dez.

Dez's groan at the sudden but expected outburst amplifying up the corridor merited the grin on my face.

I slapped his shoulder, "time to celebrate, big man. One night in Ortega," I said, holding a finger to his face. "We get our pay. Let the boys go stupid for a night and blow half their earnings, as always. Spend the night. Then go the next day. Whaddaya say, brother?"

'The boys', came charging into the cockpit. Jumping around, arm-in-arm. Bumping the back of mine and Dez's chairs.

"Fine," Dez's breathy voice drew the word out. Pure annoyance was always in the tone of his voice, but his selflessness never let it kill the vibe.

My grin widened from ear to ear. "That's my boy. Kick this ship into hyperdrive, Dezzy-baby, and let's get outta here."

Dez groaned. "If youse aren't going to strap in, hold on to something," he announced, clipping himself into the chair.

Hyperspace is by far my favorite way to travel. The warp and worm drives are a quicker solution to traversing deep space; though, aren't as cool. As I was about to see again. Every time, my eyes light up. I stare through the cockpit window in amazement, and it is probably the main reason why I do what I do.

I flipped open the red plastic casing and flicked the switch within. The hyperdrive engine roared to life. It rumbled from underneath the rear of my vessel, vibrating every square inch, gently shaking my seat like an overpriced massage chair. It was nice, but the Silian masseuses always hit the spot.

Always.

"Punch it," I commanded with a grin as I sat forward on the edge of my seat, watching the sparkling bright stars beyond the ship wreckage excitedly.

Dez's hand dropped on the thrust lever. If it was up to him, he'd slowly raise it so the Aeterna's speed gradually increased. But he knew how I preferred he do it, so he punched it up to max level. The ship jolted forward in a forceful rush, soaring through space. The jolt heaved me back in my chair. Half the boys went tumbling backwards in an amused state down the corridor, while the others smart enough to cling to something remained struggling to stay upright and wishing they had strapped in. Like always.

I sat glued to the back of my seat—hands gripping the armrests and eyes fixed mesmerized on the radiant white and blue lights of passing stars hailing toward the ship like a horizontal downpour of luminescent rain. The hyperdrive rumbling turned to a overpowering, deafening hum that filled our ears. The noise—blocking out every other sound—along with the beaming lightshow of the stars shooting by, was like a trance flashing across my glimmering, ecstatic eyes. I love my new hyperdrive engine. It would've cost me a shitload if I hadn't given in to the crew's unanimous vote to heist it. Sorry, I think the agreed upon term when telling the story was: permanently borrowed. Anyway, it hits almost triple the speed of my old one.

Hyperspace is like a wild psychedelic space-trip that never turns bad. Never crashes. When we hit Z-5—max speed—with the new engine, the dimensional tunnel of fluorescent whites and blues begin to blur into purples and yellows and vibrant greens. It's euphoric. No; it's like a visual orgasm—it makes your heart race every last second you're in it. And when you come out of it...Great Elder Ones—it is an invigoratingly breathtaking ecstasy.

Being the captain of the ship, I kicked back and enjoyed the stars as my ship took my crew to only the best spaceport in all of this sector: Cal-Ortega Station.

Let the good times roll.