Once upon a time, in deep space, lived three pirate lords. Pirates were commonly hunted and brought to justice for the better of everyone, except for three. They were very notorious for their pirate activity, future day backbeards if you may. If Blackbeard, left much unlooted, told stories of beasts, and pulled off impossible strategic maneuvers.
The first was the human captain William Rackham (Rack-em) of the Peace Exchanger, who strived to steal less than he took. His mighty vessel was armed with many auto turrets and a deep strike hatch for mass troop deployment.
William Rackham was a well built man with a strong, almost bulging chest and a wisp of brown hair on his chinny chin chin. He wore classic pirate clothing as it was the true way to be a pirate and get away with large raids to only take little.
Rackham's story began when he was but a babe in his mother's arms. One day, his mum walked past a candy shop where she didn't allow him a lollipop. In his baby rage, he plucked a large one from a basket, and with a loud crack heard around the marketplace, cracked it across his mother's face. From then on, William was trained in swordplay.
"Navagator, what be our status?", the Captain politely asked.
"We be approximately 510 light years from our destination and countin', Captain" The navigator replied. Ah yes, the destination.
Rumor has it that a Novakid nobel hid a massive amount of treasure on an abandoned planet. Rumor also says that he forgot where he put it, which is no surprise. What's up with such a short memory, anyway? Couldn't a body of gas do any better? Putting that aside, what could be hidden? Rackham pondered the nearly endless possibilities; mountains of pixels, impressive armor, ancient texts, mighty weapons, and wome-
"Wait, why would he stash beauties?! Wouldn't they run out of supplies and then bloody rot on everythin'? That doesn't make any sense. Bah, how much farther be we navigator?" Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rackham questioned where the thought of women being with the treasure came from. For goodness sake, this wasn't a cheesy movie where the archaeologist goes down to explore a cavern that hasn't been 'occupied' for centuries. Jeez!
"Good timin', Captain. We be just closin' in on t' planet. Attention all crew members, we be nearin' t' target, prepare for drop. I repeat, we be nearin' t' target."
Grabbing a bottle of rum, Rackham kicked back in his captain chair, victory was his, and they all were going to be filthy rich. Why, with that money, they could buy upgrades for the ship, and new clothing! And the wo- NO! You were not going to have this conversation with your self. There will be no women, and that is final! Aren't women bad luck on pirate ships anyway? Popping the cork off the cold, brown bottle, he went to take a swig of the delicious brew.
"Captain, we have contact!", cried out the Navigator, his hands becoming visible clammy.
"Calm down, Navigator. Who be it? What has you worked up?", Rackam questioned. The navigator was usually a level headed lad with a good brain between his ears.
"Brin' t' contact on screen." As the order was given, the captain noticed similar colors of fright sweep across his deck at an alarming rate, hushed whispers full of terror. As the large deck screen turned to video feed, William's world slowed to a crawl. As his eyes widened and his pupils shrank, the feeling of his drink slipping though limp fingers was almost unnoticeable. As the rum finally smashed against the metal floor, Rackam breathed two words that sent the ship into a frenzy of screaming and button mashing.
"Its him."
Plopping into his chair, mouth ajar, Captain William Rackham stared as his worst nightmare finished exiting its jump phase.