Erte Starshine was not a captain, nor was he a technician of any kind. He was just another cannoneer, but with the captain dead and their two technicians either delusional or plain knocked-out, there wasn’t much keeping the crew together at all.

The life of a pirate certainly wasn’t an easy one, not that it had been any easier earlier. Erte had indeed been a pirate a dozen or so years ago, but newbies nowadays had no idea what that was like. The sheer difference in dealing with the Empire and the Republic. The older, even more experienced folks would sometimes go on nostalgic rants on how at least the Jedi seemed to have morals. Judicials like them weren’t too interested in callous bloodshed, although they were certainly capable of it as long as it was for the “greater good.”

But in personal encounters, the Jedi were far preferable to the Imperials. Jedi could, and often would show mercy. That was sort of their whole deal.

Of course, that didn’t mean Jedi were easy opponents, especially not in a ship. Erte had only encountered a solidary few, but they didn’t fly like normal people. Or like humans at all.

They flew like a purrgil floated. Not a single movement was wasted. Every shot hit.

That made them incredibly frightening opponents, often capable of single-handedly crippling entire fleets with easy applications of Force abilities beyond the scope of the common man.

That was why, when the Jedi were shafted and the Republic was changed into the Empire, most pirates had cheered. The boon of the judicial department had been shafted! What wasn’t there to celebrate?

And then the judicial department itself was shafted. Or, rather, reorganized from top-to-bottom. It left the Empire pretty unstable in the beginning. If it wasn’t for the fact that the entire clone army had been absorbed into the ranks of the Empire. Most people just assumed that the clones would retire or something once the war ended, but, instead, they became some private army, acting as police for the entire galaxy.

Pirates like Erte had only a year or so to relax before things got even worse than they had once been. And that’s including the sudden disappearance of their usual targets, AKA the Trade Federation.

And now, the Empire was worse than the Republic ever was. There’s no question about that.

Richer pirates were able to get by through bribing imperial officers (something that was impossible with any Jedi of repute), but the crew Erte was a part of was nowhere near that lucky.

Most cannoneers probably wouldn’t give a kriff about this kind of stuff, but Erte took a certain kind of pride in being knowledgeable. The only thing that actually kept him from a position of authority was his shyness and inexperience.

Now, that didn’t matter.

Most people of any significance were dead. That left him as the only older member; the de-facto one in charge. This was frightening in and of itself, but since he did know their current position pretty well, he was able to lead enough for them to get within reach of their home base’s transmissions.

Well, not their home base, per se. More so the home base of the rebels they were hired by.

Yes, that was another interesting thing. A good source of revenue for down-on-their-works pirates and smugglers. As it turns out, people who are actively hunted by the galactic government have no real choice but to turn to sympathetic governments or, in this case, illegal venues in order to secure food and resources. In this specific case, the rebels mostly hired Erte’s crew to help them protect one of their most remote locations, to assist in small endeavours, to explore the unknown reaches for possible allies against the empire… A bit of everything.

In this mission’s case, it was the latter. And it had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

As it turns out, many civilizations that hide in the unknown reaches do so because they don’t want to be contacted. For any reason.

In other words, their group had been chased out with blasters and sluggers.

Erte tightened his grip on the railing and stared out of the cockpit.

Well, it might have had a little to do with the fact that Erte’s captain issued a pretty harsh ultimatum that they either joined their cause or faced extinction, but what can ya do? It wasn’t as though their rebel employer had been any specific in exactly how they should treat possible allies. In fact, shouldn’t they have realized that having pirates act as intermediaries would be a terrible idea?

A green streak of light flashed by outside the window. Oh, yeah, they’re about to die.

Out of their minor fleet of four ships, they had lost three of them, including their prized flagship, The Murder. Flashy name, but their captain is a pretty flashy guy. Was.

Erte could feel a shudder coming on again. Stars damn it, control yourself!

“Erte, another transmission coming in.”

“Huh?” Erte turned to one of the few able crew members still alive. “Yeah, send them through.” They’d gotten the coordinates a few standard minutes back, so if they continued at this rate, they should be able to head back pretty much straight away while still losing those damn Imperials, which were slowly falling back. They were probably assuming Erte and his guys were lost small-fry just trying to avoid a fight. If they were clever they might leave them be.

A woman’s voice crackled to life. “Captain-in-charge?”

“Yeah?” Erte asked maybe a little too curtly. And who could fault him? He’d lost the majority of his friends and crew today, and unless they got back in time, they’d probably lose the rest of them, too. Unless those Imperials learned to aim, that is.

“Do you have any capable technicians lucid enough to check your status?” Erte, after glancing at their one awake technician trying to undress in front of everyone, replied in the negative. “Then, we are unhappy to announce that we have good reason to believe that these waves may be under surveillance, alongside your ship being tracked. Should you attempt to return to base we will have no choice but to fire upon you to ensure our secrecy. Please understand our situation. You have our condolences. If you have any sympathy for our course, please self-destruct or otherwise ensure the destruction of your ship and crew.”

Erte could feel his hands begin to tremble. “Huh? What the kriff are you saying!? Listen here, you can’t-,”

“Transmission ended.”

For a second, Erte stood there, trembling and seething. They’re abandoning them? Just because they might be under surveillance?! That’s idiotic! As though to take out his black rage on the very ship that brought their salvation, Erte began to stomp his foot on the floor, stamping and grinding his heel and gnashing his teeth until he could barely even hear the words of his few remaining comrades.

“Uh, Erte, it’s-,”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!! They can’t just leave us, we’re the only damn reason they’ve been able to loiter around in the first place! Not even a single ship?! They’re not even trying to help us after we’ve been saving their asses for three standard years!”

“Erte!” The voice of one of his older comrades brought him out of his fury. “Look, we get it, you’re mad, and so are we, but stomping the floor isn’t gonna save us.” The man, another one of the cannoneers, shrugged his mighty shoulders. “We’ve had a good run. The Imperials are approaching quickly. Let’s say we give one last fight, eh?”

“The-, the rebels…”

“The rebels’ll be fine. These Imperial guys’ equipment ain’t nearly enough to intercept the coordinates to the base, and since their ships are way too small to properly catch us, their only way of dealing with us would be to shoot us down. Simple as that. Looking at the way they’re approaching, that’s probably their intention, too. No other way about it, we’re about to have a slug down.” A heavy hand fell on Erte’s back. “Let’s try to take one or two down with us, eh?”

“Y-,” Erte almost agreed before a realization hit him. There was one way to survive this. A single possible way to save his crew. To make sure none of them died.

He practically threw himself at the comm system in a newfound panic, one born of hope. “Get this thing booted!” He shouted at his nearest crewmate. “Connect it, damn it!”

“C-, connect to what?”

“That Imperial ship!”