At some point in the future in some area of space, there's a small ship attempting a stickup. I'd like to be able to be more specific, but it's quite difficult to tell exactly where since the ship's navigation system doesn't really work. Anyway Fred who happens to be piloting the ship has just realised why most people don't buy ships from shady second hand dealers.
'I think they might have underplayed the issues with the sensor package since that clearly isn't a small shuttle'
The 'small shuttle' in question happens to be a Rhinoceros, a ship that got its' name from its' bulky armour plating and unaerodynamic design. Oh and also the overly large front mounted cannon that happens to be pointing directly at Fred and is larger than Freds' entire ship.
The comm channel sputters into life displaying a man whose most striking features are his magnificent mustache and a frown topped by a military hat.
"This is the FSS Malleus, identify yourself and state your purpose. If you fail to do so we will open fire" The mustache barks.
"Umm, hi I'm Fred, you don't happen to know where we are, do you? My navigation system is a bit unreliable and I don't know where the nearest station is." Fred mumbles suddenly finding the dirt and lubricant caked on the floor of his cockpit a great deal more interesting than it was a moment ago.
The mustache stretches slightly wider and the frown deepens. "Do you usually ask for directions with a full weapons lock?"
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"W-Well you never can be too careful, there might be some unsavoury characters about, I'd hate to run into any pirates"
"Indeed, well I guess you won't mind accompanying us to our destination, it'll even save you some fuel"
"Honestly there's no need to trouble yourself"
"I insist"
"Oh, cheers"
One tractor beam and a few pistol whips later and Fred is the proud resident of the brig guest room. Albeit having traded his communicator and the nutrient pouch in the pocket of his pressure suit for a nosebleed and a slight limp.
'I'm pretty sure that this isn't how piracy supposed to go, my nose is definitely not supposed to be this sore'
Luckily for Fred there aren't any other prisoners guests on the Malleus, so the toilet is all his to brood over his short and uneventful career in piracy on and there's even a full roll of toilet paper to deal with the current fluid leakage from his face. How wonderful.
Unfortunately his brooding atop a shiny metal throne is interrupted when the door opens and a pair of coveralls and a mop are thrown in by a tall woman with a datapad tucked under her arm and an amused smirk. The mop sails toward the toilet and the handle whacks Fred on his forehead since his hands are currently full of toilet paper and his newly crooked nose.
"You'll be pleased to know that you're uniquely qualified for the brand new cleaning position that just opened up" She
"Oww, What's the pay?"
"You get the nice privilege of remaining on this side of the airlock"
"Ah, any chance of something for my nose, I'm pretty sure you guys broke it?"
"Shut up and put that on, you can start by clearing up the trail you left on your way in."