Upon opening his eyes, he was aware of his condition. Unharmed, but not where he wanted to be.
Blink. It was dark. Something he was used to, so it wouldn't be long before-
Blink. No, something was on his visor. He wiped his hand on his faceplate, and sure enough, dust and dirt smeared across his vision. He repeated it until he could see clearly.
He sat up. Voices could be heard off to the side, but they faltered away as he sat up. He turned.
Five rough-looking humanoids with grey or brown leathery skin were pointing skinny, scrappy pistols at him. He was in what looked like a bare cell, and a transparent red sheet of energy was over the only exit.
"Hold yer tail, trooper," the central one sneered. He had a mustard-yellow loose tunic and a tattoo of an S over his eyepatched right eye. The hand holding his pistol was mechanical. "You had quite the landing on our front gate. Don't want to vomit inside yer helmet, do ya?"
As if. He was so used to nausea, given the environments he had wandered in, that whatever Hayden had done to him, he could handle it.
"Come with us," the middle one continued, gesturing at the energy wall. With an indistinct click, the energy wall dissipated. "Hondo'll want to speak with you."
The Doomslayer's fists balled with a loud creaking of leather, and he stood up from his bed. His six feet eight inches, plus the height and bulk of his green combat suit, made him tower over his captors. Their guns shook a little in their hands as he looked down on them. The Slayer could not be hurt from them or their rinky-dink guns. The only thing keeping him from leaving them behind was because he needed information.
One of the other pirates– they seemed like the type– came forward with a pair of cuffs. Upon trying to fit them around his wrists, though, he found that they couldn't fit. Not unless he went to the loosest possible setting.
Once the cuffs were around the Slayer's obliging wrists, the Slayer twisted his wrists and flexed his hands to the side.
Pieces bounced on the concrete floor.
After a few tense moments, the tattooed and amputee'd pirate quickly gestured at the door. "Well, come on," he halfheartedly mumbled.
The Slayer allowed him a few feet, then followed. As they exited his cell and walked through the dank, dim halls of Hondo's lair, the Slayer only had thoughts for Samuel Hayden.
Abominable robot! Filthy cyborg traitor! After all the Slayer had done for him?! The Slayer imperceptibly trembled with hatred. The instant he was in front of him, he was going to turn Hayden into a box of paperclips. Hayden was going to synthesize Argent Energy and sooner or later drag humanity into another demonic invasion. Or maybe not, and Hell would come regardless of Hayden's actions. Perhaps, even, Hayden would provide Earth with some form of defense.
But if that were the case, how would Hell launch an invasion of Earth? And how could he get back there? The Slayer was obviously in an entirely different part of the universe, going by the aliens leading him along. Surely they at least had interplanetary travel, right?
"Righ' through 'ere," one of the pirates said, stepping aside and bowing at an archway. The Slayer's mouth thinned at the pirate for interrupting his thoughts, but as usual said nothing. He passed the archway and entered into a larger room.
The Slayer's entourage had led him to a grimy, seedy bar that was filled with the same kind of leathery humanoids in tiny alcoves and on seats around tables. Spills had permanently discolored the ground in some places, and filth littered the floor under the tables. Uninteresting music echoed from somewhere, and the Slayer was glad for the filters in his helmet; he figured the smell would be rank.
At the center of the upcoming bar was a very distinctly pirate-esque figure. He had a long leather overcoat, a strange monkey-lizard thing on his shoulder, and a flat brimless hat. Upon turning around, the Slayer could see he had a pair of goggles around his neck, and he broke into a broad smile across his leathery brown face.
"My friend, my friend!" he cried in a strange accent mix of Spanish and Russian. "Kordis, thank you for lending your unique hand. Come, sit. You must be thirsty after your ordeal, yes?"
The Slayer did not move.
"Ah, forgive me. Introductions are in order." He swept a hand all around him. "Weequay hospitality and all. I am Hondo Ohnaka, a simple businessman and less-than-reputable acquirer of semi-legal goods. I am also a juggler, a pickler, a grinner, a drinker, a restauranteur, a torturer, and… I blog anonymously on the Holonet."
Holonet? Must be the equivalent of the internet. Aside from his name and species, that was the most important thing he had mentioned.
"I can understand your, ah, mistrust. I would not want to talk to pirates either, if I were not one myself. But we, of course, are reputable pirates. Such a thing exists. The less savory types would have instantly sold you off to either the Republic or Separatists the moment you landed in their front yard. But I wished to understand what we're working with here before we turn over a potentially valuable asset."
Republic. Separatist. He needed to understand this section of the universe as soon as possible. The Slayer reached behind him, and the pirate guard around him stiffened. But he only brought out the little backup chip VEGA had been copied on and held it up to the pirate's face.
"Oh, what have we here?" Hondo wondered, leaning forward. "It looks like…" He frowned. "What, ah, is that? A chip of some kind?"
The Slayer nodded.
"Do you need to use it?"
The Slayer nodded.
"And if you get what you need from your little search, you would be willing to… do business?"
The Slayer nodded.
Hondo shrugged. "Fair enough. But before you do, may I have the privilege of knowing your name?"
The Slayer just folded his arms.
Hondo sighed and nudged the corner of his black hat. "Seems like I must speak for both of us, then. I have known rocks who were wordier than you."
The Slayer nodded.
Hondo indicated somewhere afar off. "Well then. If you have questions that your little disk must answer, then who am I to stop you? Guards, let him do this alone. He might get a tad, er, irritated if you always have a gun trained on him."
At least Hondo knew that much. The Slayer just turned and heavily tramped away. His helmet receptors could pick out the remnants of the bodyguards talking with Hondo as he approached the hall.
"Are you mad?!" Kordis demanded.
"When it comes to a man built like a dreadnought, I find honesty and leniency is the best policy," Hondo admitted. "It's like I always say: Speak softly, and carry large muscles."
The Slayer smiled.
He reached the hallway and rounded the bend. No one was there except a pair of guards on the far end, who were playing cards around a small circular table.
The Slayer examined both his suit and the data disk in his hand. How was he going to implement this disk when all the ports this side of the universe would most likely not accept it?
The Slayer's fingers felt a little part of the suit in the inner part of his thigh slide up a little.
He paused, then bent over and examined it. There was a small part in his thigh's plate armor that could pop out and slide away, revealing a deep access port. And it perfectly matched the receptor for the VEGA datadisk. The UAC must have modified it during his time in the coffin in their facility.
After a moment's hesitation, the Slayer plugged the disk into the receptor. The plate covering slid back in, showing no sign of it having ever existed in the first place.
His suit began to whirr and hum on the inside for a few seconds. Then it died down. A chiming sounded in his ear, and once more, VEGA's warm professor-like voice wound up.
"Sla… yer… Ah, Slayer. My warmest greetings. Thank you for making that backup copy when you had to destroy me. I am currently running as a small percentage of my normal capacities on the power of your Praetor Suit, which seems to have an infinite capacity for absorbing Argent Energy. The Wretch who made it must have been strong indeed."
It was soothing to hear VEGA's calm assessments. He had been the only true ally the Slayer had back on Mars. In that moment before his self-destruction, when he had the chance to make the backup copy, the Slayer had immediately chosen to do so. There was something oddly human about VEGA, and it had brought out the human in the Slayer as well. Together they formed something not quite mortal, but not exactly transcendent.
"I assume from my geometric scans that Samuel Hayden has sent us to some far-flung corner of the universe. For instance, the writing on that sign over there does not resemble any written language in my databases."
The Slayer glanced around. There was a sign, sure enough, next to a crude sign of a man beside a door. Beside it was another door with a similar sign, but with a female-esque figure. The Slayer figured they were restrooms.
"If I gain access to an equivalent of the internet, I can begin to understand the world we are now in."
The Slayer's gaze rested upon the guards at the end of the hall. A rectangular glowing device that resembled a phone was laying on the little table they were playing cards on.
The Slayer opened and re-clenched his fists. He loudly tramped over to the two, and they looked up at his approach.
"Kriff do you want… skug?" one of them asked, but the sentence got progressively less confident as the Slayer got as close as possible to him. After looking the Weequay down, the Slayer slowly snatched the datapad from the table. He looked down at it.
"One moment," VEGA reported.
And the datapad went ballistic. It heated up quickly as VEGA easily bypassed its security and gained access to the entire Holonet. News reports, galactic sports updates, planetary data catalogues, language databases, scientific reports, blogs, holovids, historical pictures and sheets, maps, memes, and updates to a war that was apparently taking place. VEGA didn't try to hack into secure government firewalls on the device, and he didn't touch any of the pornography that was apparently rampant on the net, which the Slayer appreciated.
After approximately two minutes of the Slayer standing there and holding the thing, it was complete. The Slayer set the datapad down again, then turned and walked away.
"Recalibrating," VEGA updated.
And the written language on the restroom doors shifted to English before his eyes. The display was doing its job.
"That is Aurebesh, the primary written language in this galaxy. The galaxy is one whole unified system of government which is currently embroiled in a civil war, and these unaffiliated pirates we are with are on a planet named Florrum. I recommend leaving the system as soon as possible."
The Slayer couldn't agree more.
"But if we simply leave without payment or fight our way out, we will put a target on our backs, and they will report us to both the Republic and the Separatists. It would be far better to make an ally of this faction and use its resources in our quest. Your affinity for the direct approach was apparent back on Mars. And I have no doubt that you could destroy the forces either side would throw at you. But my calculations are in favor of gaining Hondo Ohnaka's trust."
The Slayer's mouth twisted in irritation. But VEGA had never been wrong before.
The Slayer headed back into the bar. He noticed that there was an aura of about two feet around him that no one wanted to enter into. The roughest of pirates would scoot in their chairs or wait for him to pass by. The Slayer paid them no mind.
"Back so soon?" Hondo asked as the Slayer approached. "Well, I am just happy your job is done. Shall we talk business? Assuming you can talk."
"The Slayer does not talk," VEGA said out of his suit's speakers. "But I do on his behalf. I am VEGA."
Hondo visibly started as VEGA spoke, and once again, the five bodyguards around Hondo reached for their weapons. Then Hondo laughed uproariously.
"Well then, Vega," Hondo chucked. "I hope you can speak the language of credits."
"We have none on hand," VEGA admitted.
Hondo sighed. "I guess we won't be friends, then."
"If there was work to be done, we'd do it," VEGA said. "Assuming you have some?"
Hondo sighed. "So much has been done. There are so many men in the galaxy that owe me a favor. I'd rather you be one of them, but I know not how you may, er, prove yourself."
"Whatever the galaxy can throw at us, we will destroy it," VEGA stated with finality.
Hondo chuckled. "Such bravado! Reminds me of the teenagers in my ranks. All right. There is a, ah, dissatisfied detractor of mine who has recently stolen three of my high-quality tanks, and has recently intercepted a shipment of considerable value to me. A pink crate with green highlights, about, hmm… so-so big." Hondo indicated around three feet square. "They have taken over a heavily-fortified nearby base in local enemy territory, which I have cleverly avoided laying siege to. If you are the warrior I take you to be, though, finding them and recovering my property will not be so hard, no?"
"Acceptable casualties?" VEGA asked.
"As many as is needed to get the message across," Hondo said. "Bring me the detractor Jiro alive. Anyone else? This I tell you: It will be hard going back while my enemies fire upon you, and no one double-crosses Hondo Ohnaka! Only I do that."
"How much collateral damage is permitted?" VEGA asked.
"Ideally the less the better," Hondo said. "But if any wreckage does remain, we can consider that a message left by you, mister…"
"Slayer."
"Hm. Magnanimous. But! Who am I to say?" Hondo spread his arms. "Remember, my crate is of utmost importance. The tanks can be replaced, but it would still be nice to have them. If you do this for me, Slayer, you shall receive a boon. What form that takes is up to your performance."
"That is all we needed to hear. Your dissatisfied friend will be here soon."
"I like the attitude!" Hondo cried, pointing into the air. "You may borrow a speeder to get there. I will send you the coordinates now. And if you are confident in your chances, the rest is up to you."
The Weequay in charge of the speeder garage took one look at the Slayer as he entered the low-ceiling building, and stepped aside. "Boss just told me ya need a bike. Take yer pick."
The Slayer wasn't planning on keeping the bike he took. It might get destroyed anyway. So he wasn't too picky. His eyes fell upon a long dark green model that matched the tone of his armor, though, and he drew close to that one. Crucible was the name in red letters on the back.
How fitting. The Slayer ran his finger along the armor before straddling it. The speeder felt comfortable in his grip, and the reclining seat was gentle.
"Make sure you don't bang it up too much," the garage guard reminded him.
The Slayer's HUD was lit up by examinations of the control setup, cross-referenced by the model of speeder VEGA had in its detabanks. Instructions for the ignition, steering, braking, and weapons systems popped up. The Slayer registered them all and began to memorize them.
His hand curled around the ignition bar and twisted it. Upon hearing it roar to life, the garage guard hit a button, and the doors leading out slowly parted. The Slayer squinted in the sudden harsh light as the speeder hovered up, and he gripped the two wide handlebars tightly. After revving twice, the Doomslayer eased on the gas, and the speeder zoomed out and into the desert wastes of Florrum.
After a few circles and figure-eights on the sun-blasted dirt to get comfortable with the vehicle, the Slayer set the coordinates on his HUD to Jiro's base and shot beyond the borders of Hondo's base, heading deep into the barrens for the first step in his journey in a galaxy far, far away.