A miner, of all things.
30 Aug 2023Rhys Blaise
It's been two weeks since I sold the Black King. My new identity is Edward McBride; not exactly my favorite name in the universe, but it'll have to do until I figure things out. The guy who acted as an intermediary for the black market forgers assured me that I won't have any problems. He better be right about this ID, or I'll have to have a serious talk with the man.I still can't wrap my mind around the ambush. One moment I was seated in the piloting chair, immersed in cutting-edge electronic music from Neon City, monitoring the sensors for any signs of trouble, and then... BAM! The hauler's turrets came alive and blasted right onto the Black King. I can still hear my mother hurling obscenities at the mercs as she fired her pulse rifle, and my father telling me to get the hell out of there. Not a single parting word from my two sisters. My family was finished; in our unsavory line of work, it was only a matter of time before something terrible happened.
Survival was the only thing on my mind. I kicked the sublight engines into maximum speed and blazed into the darkness of space. I didn't even wait to go through the proper unmooring procedures. I tore away a chunk of the ship, leaving an ugly scar on an otherwise beautiful face. It was meant to be an easy score—an under-guarded hauler hoping to avoid the main routes and minimize the risk of being raided. They weren't expecting us out there, but we certainly weren't expecting the mercenaries guarding the cargo.
I'm still breathing. That's what counts, I keep repeating it to myself. The Black King was heavily damaged, but not beyond salvaging. My repairs kept her running for a while longer. As much as I cherished that ship, I had to let her go. The contact at the bar was dead serious when he suggested I vanish. Bounty hunters are on my trail; relentless hounds gunning for my head. It's personal, that much is clear. Somewhere along a line of crime, my family and I must have seriously pissed someone off. The parent of a dead merchant captain, most likely. Now they want all of us dead. I'm the last one left standing—so they're not finished. They won't be satisfied until I'm adrift in space, frozen like a popsicle.
The fake ID should keep me safe for now. I've distanced myself from the usual hunting grounds; hopefully, they haven't picked up my trail just yet. I've found work as a miner. A damn miner, of all things. The pay is garbage, the food is horrendous, but at least I'm secure—that's what counts. I need to clear my mind, regain my composure, and strategize my way out of this mess.
I won't be a miner for the rest of my days, that's for damn sure.