Chapter Two: The Pirate’s Life

The Nx-01 roared to life, its engines igniting with a deafening thrust. The launch pad trembled beneath it as the ship tore itself free from the Earth's surface. For a moment, Michael was weightless, drifting in the vacuum of space, the immense power of the starship coursing through him. His heart raced, but his mind was calm.

He had done it. The Nx-01 was his.

As the ship broke free from Earth's atmosphere and headed into the vastness of space, Michael took a moment to let it sink in. He had stolen the most advanced starship humanity had ever created, a vessel capable of interstellar travel, and now it was his. He wasn't a nameless thief anymore—he was Captain Michael Briggs, commander of the Nx-01.

The stars ahead seemed to beckon him, a new world of endless possibilities. He had no particular destination in mind, only a thirst for freedom and adventure. 

With a mischievous smile, he set course for deep space.

The era of the space pirate had begun.

The stars stretched endlessly before Michael as the Nx-01 soared through space, leaving Earth and its oppressive governments far behind. It was a freeing feeling, but the emptiness of the vast cosmos wasn't lost on him. A ship this size, this powerful, couldn't be run by just one man. The days of solo operations were over; to truly make a name for himself, Michael needed a crew.

His destination was a space station orbiting the uncharted fringes of a system known for harboring outcasts, smugglers, and mercenaries—an ideal place to recruit. It wasn't a well-known station, not officially recognized by Earth's governments, and its residents were far from law-abiding. If anyone would be willing to serve under a pirate captain, it would be here.

The station came into view—a dark, jagged structure, suspended like a spider in the void. The "Haven" was its name, and it was infamous for being a refuge for those who wanted to disappear or make a quick buck at the expense of the law. Michael couldn't help but grin. This was exactly where he belonged now.

He set the Nx-01 on a course toward the station, activating the comms to request docking clearance. After a few moments of static, the voice of a disinterested station officer crackled through.

"What's your business?"

Michael smirked. "I'm here to make an offer. You got any talent looking for a new job?"

The officer paused, then snorted. "Pirate, huh? Sure. Docking clearance granted. Don't make a mess."

The hangar bay doors opened with a loud hiss as Michael guided the Nx-01 inside. The massive ship slid smoothly into the station's docking bay, the doors closing behind it with a satisfying finality. As he stepped out of the command deck and into the dimly lit corridors, a rush of anticipation surged through him. This was it—the first step in becoming a pirate captain.

**---

The station's interior was a labyrinth of narrow hallways, flickering lights, and cramped spaces filled with traders, mechanics, and rogue soldiers. The walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own, each corner hiding some form of danger or opportunity. Michael moved with purpose, his eyes scanning the crowded market areas, his mind already working on what kind of crew he needed.

A pirate ship, especially one as advanced as the Nx-01, required a diverse team. He'd need a skilled engineer who could keep the ship running smoothly, a tactician to help plot strategies, and a few seasoned fighters for protection. And that was just the beginning. A ship wasn't a crew until it had a name, a reputation, and a purpose—and Michael was ready to give the Nx-01 all three.

He started at the most obvious place—the cantina.

The cantina was a bustling hub of activity, filled with shady characters from across the galaxy. A few familiar faces were hunched over their drinks, but most of the people in the room kept to themselves. Michael made his way to the bar, where the bartender—a gruff, one-eyed alien—was polishing a glass.

"You got anything good on the menu?" Michael asked with a smile.

The bartender grunted. "Depends what you're lookin' for. Something to drink? Or somethin' to hire?"

Michael leaned in, lowering his voice. "I'm looking for a crew. A few good men—or aliens, whatever you prefer—ready to take on something bigger than a simple job."

The bartender eyed him, then jerked his head toward a table in the back corner. "You ain't the first to come askin'. That group over there? They've been lookin' for a ship to call home. Might be worth talkin' to them."

Michael followed the bartender's gesture, his eyes settling on a group sitting at the table. A mix of species, each with their own distinct appearance and attitude.

The first was a hulking, four-armed Trill, his skin marked with strange black and silver patterns. He looked like he could break a man in half with his bare hands. Beside him was a wiry Vulcan woman, her expression stoic but her eyes sharp—likely a strategist or negotiator. Across from them sat a young Andorian, his antennae twitching as he played with a blaster at his side, clearly itching for a fight. And lastly, there was a sharp-eyed human woman with dark hair and an almost predatory aura, her hand resting on the handle of a vibroblade.

They all seemed out of place here, but that only made Michael more certain they were the ones he needed. He approached their table with confidence, settling into an empty chair.

"So, I hear you're all looking for something bigger," Michael said, his voice low and inviting. "I've got a ship. The Nx-01. The most advanced starship Earth's ever built."

The group exchanged glances, but none spoke. Michael leaned forward, showing his teeth in a grin.

"I'm looking for a crew. People who aren't afraid of taking risks, who want to make their mark out in the stars. If you've got the skills, I've got the ship. What do you say?"

The Trill spoke first, his voice deep and resonant. "You expect us to just follow some rogue who stole a ship?"

Michael's smile didn't falter. "I expect you to follow someone who knows how to take what's his. You can either stay here on this station, scraping by, or you can join me and see what the galaxy has to offer."

The Vulcan woman's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "You may have stolen a ship, but can you lead? Can you make us more than just outlaws?"

Michael didn't hesitate. "I can make us legends."

The Andorian slammed his fist on the table, his grin wide. "I'm in. Where do I sign up?"

The human woman looked Michael up and down, her expression unreadable. After a long moment, she nodded. "I'm in too. But if you cross me, captain, you won't have a crew left to lead."

Michael grinned. "Deal."

The Trill and Vulcan exchanged a glance before nodding, confirming their agreement. And just like that, Michael had his crew—a team of misfits, all with their own reasons for joining the pirate life. They were his now, and together, they would carve out a new future for themselves.

Michael stood, his posture commanding. "Alright then. Welcome aboard the Crimson Void. We've got a lot of work ahead of us. First order of business—let's make sure no one forgets who we are."

With that, the crew of the Crimson Void began its journey, ready to make its mark on the galaxy as pirates, outlaws, and legends in the making. Michael's career as a pirate captain had officially begun.