Kyn Credos clambered into a leather seat and took a look at the aged control panel in front of him. The cockpit was cramped and had the sharp smell of rusted metal. The docking gates began to open as he pushed a little on the throttle, feeling the spattering buzz of the engines behind him. He was beginning to become familiar with this old Revenant. A grizzled voice came through the speaker behind his seat. "Allright trader, your free to launch".

"Pirate Hunter." Kyn shot back. "I'm a pirate hunter."

He could tell that his declaration was lost in the radio waves that bounced on through space.

"Your not a pirate hunter yet." Kyn thought to himself. "After all, you can barely take on an Aputech - 5 without losing your ship."

The gates were open fully now and Kyn pushed the throttle to its full extent, feeling the engines clammer and roar and seeing the docking bay disappear in his peripheral.

"No worries, though." Kyn mused. "As long as this thing can make it to Sedina, I'll get enough cash to fund a few bot runs. Before I know it, I'll have enough experience under my belt to take on even the best pirates."

Kyn shot his eager glance out into the heavens. A dim red light on the panel told him that he was approaching a safe distance from the station to activate his jump drive.

"Hello Vendetta Universe." He chirped into his comm.

La Vespa soared out into space.

You ever get into a scrape thats to tough kid, you come to me. I'd be a shame to see one so young get into serious trouble.

Kyn tried not to gag on the smell of sweat that fumed from the smuggler's undershirt.
"Listen up, Trader. I pay you, so you do what I say. You brought me fine wine, so I'll pay you fine cash if you take this cargo back to Itan with you."

"I already told you," Kyn talked through his fear, giving the impression that he had faced this type of scum before. He hadn't. "I'm not interested in transporting illegal goods. Pay me or not, you'll have to find someone else."

The barstool gave a creak as Kyn stood up. He wandered how many eyes were on him. There were ten guys in the bar when he walked in twenty minutes ago, or was it fifteen. As confidently as he could, Kyn threw a few credits on the table to pay for his drink and took a stride towards the door.

He heard a low whir from the bottle as it flew through the air. Only a second before it struck the back of his skull. The glass shattered in an explosion of ale that Kyn could feel staining his new jacket.

The next thing he knew the smugglers large, rough hands were around his throat. The smuggler dragged him to the bar and pressed his face against the splintery surface. Kyn could hear him break another bottle, this one the smuggler held pressed against his throat.

The bartender was casual pooring a drink for another patron.

"You call yourself, La Vespa." The smuggler got his face close to Kyns. As he spoke, he let loose a foul spray of saliva. "The wasp. Well it seems like you might be causing me trouble in the future wasp, getting all heroic on me the way you did just now. Seems to me that the best way to handle this is to stomp you right..."

A blast erupted from somewhere behind him and Kyn saw the smugglers eyes go blank.

"Your a long way from home, trader."

Kyn knew who this was, Sembei had given him a few tips on good trade routes back in Itan. There was somebody with her.

"Theodore, go ahead and patch this one up."

"Already on it. This kid got himself beat up pretty good but he'll be all right. No permanant damage from the looks of it. Lucky we needed a drink when a we did!"

Kyn tried to speak, "I'm a pir.. hun.."

The rest was black.

Dr. Feelgood rubbed his temples wearily. The kid lay on the makeshift bed, in a fitful sleep. He had been out for more than eight hours, but that had been mostly due to the shot the good doctor had given him. “Didn’t mean to give him that much,” He thought to himself, “Still, It’ll do the lad good to get some sleep.”

The good doctor rose from his desk and walked over to his patient. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him back in the bar; he was more involved with the fists that were rocketing toward his face. The kid didn’t know it, but he had started a full scale brawl. It would seem that the sound of shattering glass and fists hitting unprotected stomachs was a universal trigger, giving everyone permission to leap into the fray, even if they had no stake in the brawl. Dr. Feelgood was convinced that some people went to bars just to get involved in a fight, much like some people watched space-races, just hoping to see someone crash. People never failed to intrigue the good doctor, and his young patient was one of the more interesting ones he had come across. He was young, too young to be involved in this business.

“He’s young enough to be my son,” Mused the doctor. But, judging by the newly formed streaks of grey in the doctor’s hair, that wasn’t as meaningful as he had meant it. Suddenly, the kid stirred, wincing in the yellow light of the exam table.

“Who are you?” The kid asked in a gravelly voice.
“Dr. Theodore Feelgood,” the good doctor responded. “You got in a pretty rough scrape back there.”
“Smugglers. They hit me; I don’t remember anything after that.”
“Well that good because the stuff you did afterward, that could scare anybody!”
“Huh?” The kid looked confused.
“Oh yeah kid.” Dr. Feelgood lied. “You gave em’ hell.”
“Really?” The kid grinned, “I don’t remember that.” He was dozing off again; the medicine was kicking in.
“You put up one hell of a fight kid.”
“Wow….thanks…” He drifted off, but this time with a smile on his face.

Dr. Feelgood walked back to his desk, observing as his patient now slept soundly.

The mind was a powerful tool when it came to healing, and that kid needed it. The body was easy to fix, but the human spirit was a harder one. Luckily, Dr. Feelgood was skilled in the craft of both.