One more planet, one more Seed. The Leviathan upon the pirate homeworld was the last I needed to destroy. I was not eager to set foot upon their world, but it would be satisfying to see the Federation take the fight to them at last.
Their homeworld's surface was scarred, a result of millennia of abuse. It was a deep, harrowing red, filthy like an iron-tainted stream. Thousands of pockmarks peppered its surface, gateways to the interior. I chose one large enough to accommodate my ship and made my way inside. The landing pad was empty, save for a few cargo drones drifting in and about.
A cursory scan revealed one hostile, and I quickly spotted the wretched creature. He was sitting, reclined, his feet upon a console in front of him. He seemed not to notice me as he fiddled with a datapad. Such inattentiveness was surely grounds for punishment among his kind, but he seemed to be taking advantage of a lack of supervision.
I held my cannon at the ready as my gunship lowered me onto the dock. The slacker suddenly bolted upright. He was unarmed. I raised my weapon to him nonetheless, for I was sure that he would run- alert those of a higher stature to my arrival.
"To dock your ship here, it's 150 credits."
It spoke. I was almost certain the translation had been botched, yet his calm demeanor and refusal to run suggested otherwise.
Dumb-founded, I barked back. "Do you know who I am?" A synthesized pirate voice spewed from my helmet.
"I know, I just don't care."
What was this apathy? He was a pirate, wasn't he? Suited in standard militia garb, there was truly nothing to suggest he was any different than the hostile hundreds I had slaughtered before him. I was wasting time, but even I was not immune to curiosity. Such an oddity deserved a closer look.
"Aren't you going to alert anyone?"
He let out what I could only assume was a laugh. An ugly, roaring gurgle pocked by staggered breaths.
"Listen human, my Superior threatened to chop me into Korakk meat this morning. My prosthetic hip has been broken for four weeks now and they still haven't fixed it. I don't give a geemer's shit how much they want you dead. You ever eaten a scritter? It tastes like bile- and I've been forced to live on them for months now. So pay me, or kill me, I honestly don't care which one you choose- but if it's the former, I'll keep your little parking spot a secret."
My cannon slackened to my side. I was close to laughter. How embarrassing it was, this absolute failure of a pirate. I would be surprised if he evaded execution much longer than a day after this.
"150 credits," he mumbled.
Would he keep his word? Likely not, but I hadn't much to lose. 150 was pocket change. With a quick scan of the datapad in his claws and a single command, I obliged him- with an additional 30 to boot.
His gnarled face twisted into a grin. He bowed his head and went back to his work station, mandibles twitching with an unnerving giddiness.
"1-8-0, 1-8-0, 1-8-0!" he started chanting the number I'd just given him.
I took my leave, but not without a skeptical glance backward. I felt almost a bit bad, really, that the Federation would soon arrive to blow his Homeworld to rubble.