Separate Ways
Chapter Eight

Rik struggled as the security team dragged him down the cellblock hallway. Upon arriving at an open cell one of the security guards kicked him in the gut which caused him to let out a loud gasp. A man with slicked back grey hair and a grey uniform that was devoid of all wrinkles and stains, approached Rik with his hands at his sides, gripping a long pole with blue lights accented along the shaft. He suddenly rammed the rod into Rik’s chest which let out a large crackle. The guards released him in unison and he fell to the floor in agony.

“Are you done fighting?” asked the man. Rik just wanted to catch his breath and not worry about answering the man’s question. What he really wanted to do was punch the guy out for nearly turning his insides out. The man swung his glossy black boot into Rik’s gut which made him grunt and falls on his elbows, cringing.

“I said, Are you done fighting?!” the man raised his voice, commanding an answer from Rik.

“Are you?” asked Rik. He knew the answer wouldn’t land him any points with the man who seemed to be the commanding officer of the station prison. The man nodded.

“Cut the attitude.” He said as he unleashed another boot into his gut which made Rik fall onto his side and cough uncontrollably, gasping for air. He kicked again, and again until Rik could feel his insides collapsing in on themselves. The pain was immeasurable and finally the commander relented.

“Now,” the man said slicking back his hair again, “Are you done?” he asked one more time gripping the stun baton tightly. Rik held his stomach and winced every time he took a breath or his heart beat.

“Yes.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“Good.” The man said and he nodded to one of the guards.

They picked Rik up by his duster and tossed him into the cell and he smacked his head off the side of the steel frame bed that had no mattress, pillow or blanket. He held the back of his head which was now pulsating with pain and he felt lightheaded. It took everything in his bones not to pass out, as he began to worry about Corvus. His bounties were also going to get away for the forth or fifth time; he stopped keeping track after the last few escapes. The door slammed shut which rung in his ears like a thunder strike.

“Now keep quiet, or I’ll come back and finish what he started.” The prison guard said as he walked away from the cell, leaving Rik alone with his thoughts. Rik wanted to crawl up on the bed, but the floor was more than likely just as comfortable so he simply rolled onto his back, holding his stomach. He’d been beat like that before, and it wasn’t anything new to him though the beatings never got any easier. He just needed a few minutes to fight through the pain and he’d be okay, as long as nothing was broken.

He began to feel around his rib cage and there was no sharp pains anywhere other than his stomach. He knew he wouldn’t be hungry anytime soon, but the pain would go away. Looking around the room he noticed there was a serious lack of amenities, even for a prison cell. The room consisted of a toilet, a sink and a bed. The mirror above the sink was just a bubbly sheet of aluminum that was stained so much that he wouldn’t see any reflection.

Charming. He thought to himself. This wasn’t the worst cell he was ever in, but it would be harder to escape this cell than some of the dirtier and less cared for cells throughout the system. This was nearly military grade as Alpha One saw many prisoners in its time, including soldiers and thieves.

He pulled himself over to the wall where he sat up against the cold surface. He looked into the hallway outside of the cell which was brighter than the dark cell he was in. Everything was so square in bland in this place that it was enough to make anyone go insane which may have been the goal. He padded his duster down to see what exactly the guards pulled off of him and they cleared him of most of his belongings, especially the weaponry. He had a smoke grenade they seemed to have overlook, but that would only enrage them off to the point where they might actually kill him. Especially if the cameras couldn’t see through the smoke; his murder could be ruled self-defence, or an escape attempt or even a suicide. The latter was the most likely, as his thoughts crept up on him.

Sasha sat in the bright, square room with the other slave girls who were about to be put up for auction. She didn’t want to look up at the bright fluorescent lights which left her nearly blind whenever she saw them. Most of the other slave girls were sitting very quietly, but two of them were talking quietly enough so nobody would hear them. Usually, Sasha would be trying to listen into their conversation, but all she could think of was her brother.

She could remember her coming home from school one day with a failing grade on one of her tests, and she was terrified to give him the news as he always pushed her so hard to do well. To her surprise, he wasn’t angry but instead told her that they’d go over it and see where she went wrong. He explained that giving her hell about it would do her no good, so they spent the night going over it. One of their most unmemorable moments in terms of their lives together, but for some reason this was the first memory to rear it’s head in a while. He didn’t give up on her then, and he wouldn’t now.

The very thought of him giving up on her was silly; he never gave up on her before and though the circumstances were extreme it felt like that didn’t matter. As much as he was her brother, he took care of her like she was his daughter. She always got angry with him when he tried to parent her too much, but in comparison to her current situation she would give anything to have him boss her around again.

Suddenly, the door swung open and the two girls quickly stopped speaking and looked forward. It was Borin, holding a long machete in his hand. The look in his eyes was pure insanity and it made her shiver. What was he doing in the room with a weapon like that? He looked down at the two girls who were talking.

“What did I tell you when I left?” he asked them. One of them slowly looked up, visually terrified.

“Not to talk-“

“Exactly!” he screamed as he slammed the machete into the wall which dented the thick metal wall. The girls all jumped and tensed up praying that he wouldn’t swing it too wildly.

“We’re sorry!” the one girl shouted out, who was clearly losing her mind. The woman beside Sasha was quietly muttering ‘be quiet’ hoping that the girl would be smart enough to not try and beg Borin for anything. Borin eyes grew wilder and he stepped toward her and she stopped talking immediately.

“You’re sorry?” he slurred.

“Yes.” She whimpered. The moment she opened her mouth he leaned forward and backhanded her viciously which knocked her into the girl beside her who shielded herself from the impact and potentially Borin’s wrath. She screamed as he grabbed her by the hair and picked her up to drag her out of the room. Sasha wanted to look away but she couldn’t, and her anger grew more intense as Borin dragged her across the room and into the wall.

“Stop!” Sasha suddenly yelled. The girls all looked over at her, horrified that she dared raise her voice to Borin. Shortly after screaming Sasha realized her mistake, and begged dearly for time to reverse so she could make a better decision. Borin stopped and turned his head to Sasha. Sasha knew she was in for a beating, and if she thought the last one she got was bad, she assumed this one would be ten fold. Possibly even fatal.

“What did you say to me?” he asked quietly. Sasha didn’t open her mouth - she couldn’t open her mouth.

“How dare you.” he said as his voice shook with intoxication. The girl behind him suddenly felt the need to try and escape but as she pulled on the handle to the door she realized it was locked from the outside. Borin spun around and slashed at her neck splitting it open which resulted in a blood curdling scream from the woman that was quickly muffled by blood. The girl slid to the floor holding her neck, flinching and gasping for air. Sasha was horrified at the sight and looked away as the other girls did.

“No!” he screamed as he grabbed her head and dragged her forward making her face the dying girl.

“Look! Look at what you’ve done!” he screamed. Sasha wanted to close her eyes but she could not. The door swung open and Vikurl was standing there looking down at Borin, and then at the dying girl.

“Borin! What the fuck are you doing?!” he yelled. Borin dropped Sasha at the dying girl’s feet who was just barely flinching now as her last breath’s escaped her lungs. A pool of blood slowly approached Sasha’s face as she looked into it and jolted back against the wall holding her hands over her mouth, crying.

“She tried to escape. I stopped her.” He said, condescendingly.

“Escape? The room locks itself you moron!” he yelled back.

“Don’t raise yer voice at me, pal!”

“Look, the auction is almost ready. Get out of here and I’ll prep the girls.”

“Then get them ready, maggot!” Borin said stumbling out of the room, dropping the machete to the ground which let out a clang that made the girls jump. Vikurl looked down at the girl who was now dead but her adrenaline was keeping her body flinching slightly. He looked around at the girls who were all petrified to have witnessed the horrific act.

“Get up, let’s go.” He said. The girls got up except Sasha who remained on the floor crying into her hands. The girls walked past Vikurl leaving just the two of them in the white room, now painted with the young girl’s blood.

“I killed her! It’s my fault!” she said, screaming into her hands. Vikurl put his hand on her back which made her flinch.

“Borin was going to kill someone, regardless of your actions. Just be happy it wasn’t you.” He explained.

“Be happy?!”

“Shut up, before he comes back.” He said quickly before she continued ranting. He picked her up and she forcefully hugged him tightly. He wanted to push her off but he could not help it; Borin had viciously killed a young girl for trying to escape a room she never would’ve been able to, and then was forcing this poor girl to watch. Borin had gone too far this time. Slave trading was enough, but he was beginning to enjoy killing them too much. This had to end.

Vikurl wouldn’t be able to save all of the girls, but he could start with this young girl who’d been through hell and back just in the last day of her life. Eight years of watching slaves be beaten, sold to abusive owners and treated like the lowest form of life in the galaxy had drained him emotionally and spiritually. He felt he had no more purpose and his banishment had created an abyss in his soul that ripped from him his essence of pride and dignity; he felt he had been lost and could not be found. But alas, Sasha had found him.

In his many long years as a slaver with Borin, nobody had given him the time of day. Sasha had inquired to things nobody had ever asked him, and perhaps she was just trying to get on his good side. Regardless, he appreciated that she gave any ounce of respect to him and it made him think. His pride and dignity had been ripped from him but with time and effort he could potentially gain them back. Helping Sasha could be the stepping stone he needed to gain back some pride.

“I can’t release you,” he said hesitantly, “but I can help you.” Sasha looked up at him, her lips quivering and her eyes filled with sadness and a glimmer of hope. Vikurl slowly pushed the door just before it shut keeping any eyes off of them.

“Just, trust me. Go through the motions. Everything will be okay.” He said. Sasha wanted to smile but her face was not capable of the action at that moment, but she felt suddenly warm inside. Desperately trying to pull herself together she let go of Vikurl and rubbed her arms trying her best to try and look away from the dead girl on the floor.

“Your brother, if I encounter him, is there something I can say to earn his trust?” Vikurl asked, thinking proactively. Sasha nodded.

“Just call me, Sassy. That’s what he used to call me, when he patronized me.” She said, chuckling slightly now thinking about all the times she used to yell at him for calling her that. She now prayed for the chance to hear him say it again, and maybe with Vikurl’s help she would.

“Sassy. Got it.” He said. Like a fatal accident, Sasha could not help but stare at the dead girl at her feet that she knew was her fault. Vikurl looked down at the girl and turned Sasha’s head toward him.

“Your fate will not be the same.” He said.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Trust me.” He said pulling her out of the room, over the dead slave girl’s body. He stood behind her and held her arms, walking her toward the group of slaves and auctioneers and prep workers.

All this time Vikurl assumed he was part of the slave trade but he didn’t work for the slave trade, he was a slave working like a dog to ruin the lives of thousands of people. It was time to turn everything around. It was time to make things right again. He released her to another man who would finish prepping her for the auction. He shot one last glance at Sasha and his eyes were brighter than she’d seen them yet. He looked up at the man.

“If she gets injured between here and the auction, you will disappear, do you understand me?” Vikurl said, commandingly. The man simply nodded in response and gently took Sasha being careful not to even look at her the wrong way.

Vikurl made his way out into the hallway. Leaning up against the wall he looked up at the bright lights, hating himself for letting his life turn out this way. With determination he could get everything back and he then remembered what his Queen secretly had given him before he banished. He looked down at a knife hanging from his belt and he slid it out of the sheath to look at it.

Engraved in the blade was a saying in their language that read: Born with Pride, Live with Loyalty and Die with Courage. He pulled it out and examined the blade and knew there was only one way to honour the people he had dishonoured when he killed his fellow guard and acquaintance that took his place. He was selfish and though the other Khrystrophene hadn’t deserved the position, the fact of the matter was that he got the position and he should’ve respected that decision. He was born proud, he was now loyal to Sasha and he was damn sure he was going to die courageously.

Corvus gazed around the room, scanning everyone he could to see what type of patrons such an event would bring. To his surprise, there were people of all walks of life; no race was excluded from the shady dealings of the slave trade. The constant noise of chatter throughout the room was like the static from a radio of highs, lows and incomprehensible yelling. It was disorienting to be in such a high octane environment.

He could see Borin in the corner of the room by the far side of the stage where it looked like the slaves would enter to face their fate. The stalky, dirty and drunk man could barely keep himself up as he leaned against the dark beige painted walls of the theatre. The red curtains draped behind the stage seemed to contain some mysterious secret that everyone would be aching to see; a row of slaves ready to be sold to the highest bidder. The dark black metal surface of the stage was glossy enough to see the bloody reflection of the curtains that hung high above it.

Corvus continued scanning the room only to see the Butcher walk right by him with one of his guards. He turned his head quickly to avoid being seen by the man, and his presence shook the room. As he entered, people made way for him as if he was some form of royalty, but they didn’t move out of respect, or perhaps they did; it was more likely they moved out of fear. Those who did not move, were promptly moved by the Butcher’s guards, who were large enough to move most people in the room.

Just then he realized that the Butcher’s presence at the station wasn’t just of great importance to Rik, but it also meant there was a possibility of him bidding on Sasha and potentially winning. A man of his reputation was not somebody that likely got into bidding wars. At this point, Corvus was making assumptions about the man and prayed most of it was not true. He turned to the man beside him, who seemed like a normal individual despite the setting and decided to inquire about the Butcher.

“Hey, pal.” Corvus said slightly nudging the man’s shoulder. The man looked over quickly, almost being startled and flipped up the visor that was covering his eyes which were dark brown and surrounded by dark circles around his eyes. His eyes were tired, but his aura led him to appear frantic and alert.

“What?” the man responded.

“I just wanted to ask about the Butcher, the man in the black helmet-“ he said, but was cut off.

“Oh, I know the Butcher, who doesn’t know the Butcher?” the man said quickly, almost seeming like he was on some type of medication that would keep him from sleeping as if he feared the very notion of shutting his eyes.

“What’s he doing here, exactly?” Corvus asked.

“Why, buying slaves of course, buying slaves for himself, for fun.” He answered. Corvus hated the answer he got, but he didn’t know what else to expect. He thanked the man who quickly nodded, flipped his visor back down and looked around, jerking his head around as if he were a bird.

Corvus wondered if anybody else was here doing what he was doing. Were there other people in the room who were simply trying to buy back or rescue loved ones? He didn’t want to imagine that these many people would be interested in slaves, but it was also possible that they were there simply for the entertainment. Corvus couldn’t wrap his head around how a slave auction could be exciting or entertaining, but he would replace out shortly.

It felt as if hours had passed since Rik climbed up onto the steel bed that wasn’t any better than a table to lay on. Realistically, it had only been half an hour and he tried anyway he could to turn his mind away from the Butcher. Did the Butcher replace Corvus? Did Corvus end up replaceing Sasha, or would she get sold before he could get to her? He tried to keep these thoughts in his mind, because the alternative was far worse.

He couldn’t help but stare up at the ceiling which had different pipes and panels, none which would aid in his escape. Most of them were most likely oxygen, water and gas lines pumping throughout the station that would only cause a minor issue with the maintenance staff, and would probably warrant another beating from the head of security. He also thought about using the pipes for something less damaging to the station, and more damaging to him. Those thoughts needed to be suppressed.

You failed the kid, and now he’s probably going to end up in a trash compactor somewhere. He thought to himself, trying to fight the voices that were now taunting him for his failure. He should’ve just ran with Corvus, he could’ve easily gotten away from the guards and disposed of them elsewhere instead of in the open with numerous witnesses.

You failed the kid, just like you failed your wife. His mind spoke to him with such animosity, trying to get a rise out of him. His cheeks puffed as his teeth gritted together. Whoever, or whatever was talking to him was wrong - he did everything he could, for everyone he knew.

He cut her up. He cut both of them up. Just like he’s going to cut the boy and his sister up. The voice continued as he gripped his head, and sat up trying to think of anything but his current situation. He tried playing songs over in his head, but the lyrics turned into warped messages about his failures and poor actions.

What are you waiting for? The voice said, louder and seemingly closer and powerful. The commands were echoing in his head, causing him to become lightheaded and increase his heart rate. Rik had heard voices before like this in his head, but it was never to this extent.

He began to sweat as everything got louder in his cell, but everything outside of his cell disappeared. He was truly alone in his cell, with nobody to help him, or talk to him. His hands shook uncontrollably and he gripped his knees trying to stop both his hands and legs from shaking.

Do it. Screamed the voice. Why was he telling him to kill himself? It was not the answer. It was never the answer, not until the Butcher paid for slaughtering his family. He could see his daughter’s face, covered in tears and blood. He began to cry and punch the metal bed until his knuckles were bruised and bleeding. Maybe if he screamed the guards would help him.

What guards? You’re alone. The voice interjected as he jumped off of the bed and began to pace around the room. Indecisive of where to stop he kept walking, hoping that it’d help him walk away from his thoughts.

Do it. You failed the kid. What are you waiting for? The voices continued, screaming and repeating themselves in almost a religious chant. He reached into his jacket and found no blaster pistol. He began to scramble to his other side arms. Gone. His knives were gone as well. The guards had stripped him of every way out of his insanity. He began to scream, knowing that the guards were there. They may not come, but it was his only chance.

“Stop!” he screamed as if he were being stabbed to death. He punched the wall in the cell but his hand hurt so much that he cringed at each punch. He wanted to stop. He knew he had to stop. Corvus was out there, alone, like him. Consciousness was his enemy and he had to defeat it. The voices began screaming louder trying to convince him otherwise, but he backed up to the cell door and began breathing heavily. If he didn’t do this, he would replace a way to end his life. It was all or nothing at this point.

Finally a blur of a man stood before him and clobbered him in the head. Rik could not see the man, but it was two prison guards slamming down on him looking like Godlike figures. The pain shot through his spine and the voices began to fade away as his own voice of him screaming in pain broke through.

He soon found himself on the ground with the prison guards standing above him and one of them pulled a rifle out. Rik knew this very well could be the end for him and as much as he wanted to fight and get to the Butcher it seemed appropriate but the guard’s intention was not to kill. It was to silence, and that he did with one crushing blow to the head with the butt end of the rifle.

Darkness. Silence.

Sasha sat weeping on a small chair behind the red curtain separating her from a loud crowd of anxious buyers. She had to be strong. Her face hurt with the swelling around her eye from Borin’s vicious attack. She was weak and her stomach growled and churned. Her breath smelt of stale vomit and blood from biting her tongue numerous times while in Borin’s possession. Holding herself, she began to fight the tears. Maybe Corvus was out there. Maybe he was waiting for her, with enough money to buy her. Maybe.

She took long, deep breaths waiting for the curtain to rise as she looked down the line at the other slaves, who appeared more calm than she was. They had been through this before and were just running the familiar sequence. They had given up all hope of being rescued by their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters or friends. Sasha refused to let go of hope. She felt if hope had left her grasp then she would let them win. They could not win. Not while she was still breathing. They’d have to kill her.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous roar from the other side of the curtain and she knew it was time. At any moment, that curtain would rise and it would begin. Her fate would be decided. After a few moments of applause, it died down and the chatter decreased to an eerie silence.

“Ladies, Gentlemen and all you other ugly bastards.” A thick, hearty voice announced. His words were met with mild applause and laughter.

“We all know the rules here; do not fight, do not buy what you can’t afford and certainly do not claim your purchase until the bidding on said slave has concluded. Do I make myself clear!?” he asked. There was a choir of agreement from the crowd with some rowdy and sarcastic remarks. Before Sasha could properly prepare herself the curtain began to rise and revealed the slaves to the crowd who let out a thunderous roar. The girls squinted from the bright lights blaring down on them.

Corvus looked down at the girls and saw Sasha in almost an instant. His heart shot into his throat and he began to move through the crowd trying to get closer, just to see her as clearly as he could. He pushed passed all types of different people, some who scolded him for bumping into them, but he did not care. Eventually the crowd got too thick and he was stopped but he could see her clearly. He wanted to run over, hug her and tend to her wounds which looked severe. He held in his tears and locked his gaze on her. He needed her to see him. She needed to know he was there, even if he couldn’t get to her, his presence would be enough to keep her sane.

Sasha gazed out at the crowd of people looking for any familiar face. The auctioneer walked to the girl beside her and dragged her to her feet to centre stage and began the bidding. His voice and the crowd’s ocean of voices droned out as she focused all of her attention to the crowd. The crowd moved like an ocean, and focusing on one face at a time proved to be difficult, but she continued anyway.

“Sold, to the gentleman here up front, number two-six-three-eight, she’s all yours!” the man announced as the crowd erupted once again in applause. A man from the crowd stepped up to the stage and led the girl off stage much gentler than Sasha assumed he would. The auctioneer turned his gaze to Sasha and approached her. She gulped and tensed up the closer he got to her. Picking her up with one arm he dragged her to centre stage. Her eyes were filled with confusion and fear as she desperately searched around the room.

Corvus looked up at his younger sister and began waving his hands now that the crowd was in chaos trying to bid for her. Secrecy was his last intention and he knew it was dire that she saw him, so he began to call for her.

“Sasha!” he screamed over the crowd, repeatedly.

Her head perked up when she heard a voice call her name. She wondered in the room who would know her by name without being announced.

“Three-hundred!” someone screamed.

“I’ve got three-hundred!” the man announced and began rifling off numbers as they grew larger and larger. Corvus screamed loudly hoping his voice would be carried to her through the screams and yells from anxious buyers.

There he was. Her eyes locked onto him, and his onto hers. Her heart felt like it was going to explode and she couldn’t help but smile and begin to cry. Corvus was speechless having longed for this moment since Fares. She was right there, he could push through the crowd, grab her and they could run as fast as they could. They would not get far.

“You will be okay.” He said quietly, but slowly so she could read his words. Her smile left her face and she nodded slightly, hoping that her brother knew what to do. Suddenly, a voice cracked through the crowd which silenced the room in a moment.

“Eight thousand!” screamed a voice. The crowd silenced and looked toward the man who’d made the massive bid on her. Corvus turned to see the Black Butcher standing a few people behind him, with his arms crossed. The Black Butcher had just made a bid on Sasha.

“I… I have eight thousand, from the Butcher.” He announced much quieter. The auctioneer knew it was the end of the bidding, but he had rules to follow and continued asking the crowd for any other bids on Sasha. Corvus wanted to scream a ridiculous number to claim her, but he didn’t have the money and he would surely be punished for bidding on something he couldn’t afford. The auctioneer went to close the sale until another voice cracked from the crowd, breaking the deathly silence.

“Ten thousand!” screamed someone. The Butcher quickly turned his gaze to a man near the front who was wearing a pilot’s gear and a red and black helmet, similar to the Butcher’s but not as smooth or glossy. The red pilot outfit stood out among the crowd of bland clothed mercenaries around him.

“I have, ten-thousand, from the pilot up front.” The announcer said, turning his gaze to the Butcher. The Butcher was fixated on the mysterious pilot and would not flinch. After a moment of the auctioneer questioning his next bid.

“Fifteen thousand.” The Butcher said, not breaking his gaze from the pilot. The auctioneer accepted the offer and turned back to the pilot waiting for a possible retort. The tension in the room began to grow so thick that it was nearly impossible to breath. Corvus couldn’t believe that somebody was actually trying to outbid the Black Butcher as it seemed like a crime. Either way it didn’t matter to him, this man could possibly be much less harmful to Sasha and possibly more lenient if Corvus wanted to purchase her back. He’d work for the man if he had to - anything to get her back.

The pilot crossed his arms staring back at the Butcher, who had not looked away clearly trying to intimidate the pilot. His efforts were in vain as the pilot turned and looked up at the auctioneer.

“Twenty five thousand.” He said calmly. There were a few gasps in the crowd and the Butcher looked at the auctioneer who was patiently waiting his counter-bid. Sasha looked back and forth between the two men battling over her for a ridiculous amount of money. Sasha overheard a few attendees of the event mentioned bids reaching up to ten thousand, but never anything beyond that. She felt oddly honoured to have been one of the highest priced slaves in the sector. It was short lived.

“Last chance, Butcher, your bid?” asked the auctioneer. The Butcher crossed his arms and subtly shook his head.

“She’s all yours.” He responded.

“Sold, to the bravest and possibly dumbest pilot in the galaxy!” he yelled. The crowd wanted to erupt, but the Butcher losing to a pilot nobody in the room seemed to know was unheard of. It was dead silent, and Corvus let out a massive sigh of relief. It wasn’t a perfect outcome, but it was eons away from the Butcher owning her. This pilot could potentially be a decent person simply looking for someone to work for free. It was a far fetched thought, but it was all Corvus had.

Sasha looked back at Corvus with mixed emotions of sadness and happiness. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other, and deep down she knew her brother would replace a way. Seeing his face again was paramount and it re-energized her. The pilot stepped up on the stage and put his hand out to Sasha, which she took. Just as he was about to leave the auctioneer stopped him.

“Sir, if I may ask your name? That is the highest bid we have ever had in this auction house.” He said, excitedly. The man turned his head to the Butcher and back to the auctioneer.

“If you must know, they call me the Baron.” He said as he took Sasha off the stage in a hurry and quickly scanning a card with a bouncer by the door. The crowd’s awe inspired chatting slowly began to rise. Corvus was absolutely dumbfounded at the man’s response. The Baron was a myth that travellers use to tell the mechanics back at the service shop. He was known as one of, if not the, best pilot in history. He had single-handedly turned the tides of wars and skirmishes for the Galactic Federation. He had now turned the tide of this battle, and Corvus needed to replace him. Corvus was going to need all the luck he could replace.