Gank sat in the back of the ship, hugging his scratchy woolen trenchcoat. The engine room was just around the corner, so the noise here was quite loud.  On the floor was a bloodstain, left over from some fight in the distant past. Gank was staring at the stain, as if its shape was a character in some forgotten language. He brushed a hand against the brown and rusty walls of the ship’s interior. There was barely any light in the hallway, only a flicker from a single ceiling bulb.
Most people seeing this image would think it was the image of a stowaway, not of an acting captain. But, this was the captain nonetheless. However, he was only a shadow of his former self. In years past, he would have been in the main quarters with his crew, making bets with the best of them. But today, his fires had long burned out, and he cherished moments like these where he could spend time alone with his favorite flask of whiskey, daydreaming about a more pleasant existence at a place where the light was far more natural than that of a ceiling bulb. Perhaps he would soon gather enough loot to do so. Or, perhaps he would die.
Moments like these were great, but they were sadly often cut short. He soon heard the loud clangs of footsteps running along the metal floor to greet him. A brigand’s work is never over until he met his maker, Gank thought. He stretched his arms above his head, in attempt to gain back some sobriety. The whiskey hit him harder than usual, but he knew that a drunk captain in a pirate crew meant major problems, especially for the captain. It wasn’t like the children’s stories of ancient earth.
He cracked his neak, and saw a familiar face. “Captian!” said Appius. He was rather young, but that was normal for a pirate. Most were under twenty years of age. “The probes, sir, have hit something big. Really big.”
“They hit what?” Gank asked, grabbing at his pockets for a smoke. “Are they damaged?”
“No no..” replied Appius jokingly. “I mean no harm, but you have drunk too much again captain. I meant, we found something good. Really good. Like, royalty good.”
Gank’s ears seemed to perk up. “Any cruisers or support ships?”
“None that we can see on the scans, sir.”
“What about vitals? And of what government?” There had been a lot of refugees filtering through this region of space in recent months, due to the war in the west against the new species. It had been easy for Gank and his crew to pray on these people. Even during humanities downfall, there was a business opportunity to be had.
“At least fifty. And its Conglomerate. It’s probably some diplomat, trying to escape the fighting.”
Gank looked straight ahead. He knew, this was most likely more than a diplomat. It might even be something special. “Alright!” Gank seemed to suddenly be full of energy as he jumped up from his seat. “Everyone to their stations. I’m going to the front; you refill this for me please. Prepare to board.” He handed Appius his dented flask and adjusted his hat as he pointed himself down the hallway. Appius ran off in the other direction telling others what was going on as he ran.
As Gank walked down the hall between the scattered light of the few bulbs that remained lit, he heard the sirens start blaring. Then, there were others in the hall, running back and forth getting ready for the fight to come. Half of them were poorly dressed, but almost all of them were incredibly fit compared to Gank’s old self.
Gank finally arrived at the head of the ship, and he was greeted by a boy who could have been 16.
“Here are the scans…” Gank brushed passed him, ignoring him. “Hywell”, he told a somewhat older young man, who was sitting in front of a control console. “We are going to board. From what I hear, they are alone and running. I need you to take out their engines, then dock on them.” Gank picked up a shotgun from a table, and began to load it.
“Aye sir, that I can do. I assume you are going to lead the boarding party?” He had a surprisingly deep voice. Gank liked that about him, which was why he put him in charge here. He was very commanding.
“You assume correct.”  He pumped the shotgun loudly. “I want to see the loot for myself this time.”
“Save some for me, will you?” Hywell exclaimed. But Gank didn’t reply, because he had no time for joking. He was already out the door.
In the airlock, it was quite cramped. There were at least 20 of Gank’s crew stuffed in there, including Gank himself. The ship shook as it dropped from FTL, and shook more as it fired on the navy ship. After a brief pause, there was another loud bang as the ship docked on its prey. The doors opened, and the real fight began.
Gank was a smart captian, not a brave one. He let his most courageous of crewmembers go in first, who were quickly killed when a mine went off. Gank charged in with the second wave, which managed to push their way into the ship. Gunshots raged through the air as bullets bounced off of the walls. This ship was a lot different than Gank’s. Its hallways were cleanly lit, and its walls were painted a brilliant white. Gank could smell the wealth, and he continued his pursuit.
They ran into a few heavily armored Conglomerate soldiers, but they were no match for Gank’s rag-tag militia. One after one, they fell, and the remaining began to run away. But unfortunately for them, Gank ordered his men to run after them, and slaughter every single one of them. There were a few families on board, Gank soon discovered. He allowed his men to do as they wished with the women, but he wanted no part in it. As he grew older, he had come to secretly question those sorts of actions.
As the fighting raged on, Gank separated from his group. If he learned anything from being a pirate, its that you don’t have to share things if you find them first. So, he aimed to find something small and valuable, he could store in his trenchcoat without anyone knowing. A guard ran into him, but he shot the guard before he did anything rash. In this life, Gank had learned to be quick in order to survive.
The gunshots raged on in the background, and Gank found a sliding door to a quarters. He was instantly taken aback, by the golden molding. Jackpot, he thought. He shut the door behind him and locked it, to discourage his crew from entering until he had first dibs. He might even be able to retire soon, at this rate.
And then he heard the crying. While the gunshots outside were loud, the crying was louder at this distance. He walked over the thick red carpet, stepping around blankets thrown onto the floor. He found a small chamber with a rather large bed. In the corner was a crib, which was obviously the source of the noise.
He walked up to the crib, looked down at the baby inside, and aimed down his sights. He clenched the trigger on his shotgun, took a breath, and then…
…he didn’t fire. He stood there, frozen.