Hello VO! Here's a story I bashed out during my tedious grind towards my first Behemoth (lvl 8 Trade License, ouch!) Hope you enjoy it, thanks for the (in-game) help I've had along the way...

‘Hot-Tip’ (PART 1 OF 3)

BREEP-BREEP.
“Hey! Hey Corv…”
BREEP-BREEP, BREEP-BREEP.
“You’d better get up, Corv, or your ass is out of a job!”
“Shove it, Buck!” I managed to reply through a desert dry mouth, which tasted one half stale coffee and the other, more familiar, bitter taste of regret.
“You’re gonna thank me for this one, trust me…”
A stubborn snort of derision was all I could summon up in response to that particular notion. I could trust Buck as far as I could throw him and Buck was not a small man (In fact, he was the biggest bastard I knew).
BREEP-BREEP, BREE-
“Alright, alright! I’m up already,” I croaked desperately, using my frustration as momentum to drag me from my nest of knotted sheets and empty packets of flight rations that were the current mainstay of my diet. “Alarm OFF!”
Blissful science descended on my sad little cubicle for one and the temptation to drift back into sleep’s comforting arms was so strong, like a tide pulling me under, my head was on the pillow before I could even bother to start resisting it.
“Job’s waitin’ Corv. You in?”
Oh, Dammit! I forgot about him. There was no command I could holler out to turn him off! But I did aim a few of the more colourful phrases that I knew as I struggled to emerge from my lonely little hole in the wall.

*

The Quad was alive with sound as my cube’s plas-steel privacy screen slid back out of sight and I emerged, stumbling out in a weary daze. It was always like this, no matter the hour. I figured it must be the layout. That and the constant influx of millions of visitors that flocked to the station every week. Mine was one of several thousand quadrants that were affixed, one above the other, in concentric rings of dozens of inward facing quads, which housed all sorts of establishments, from pleasure parlours to Holo-domes. Plenty of places where a down-and-out space courier like me could lose all of his hard-earned creds, all too easily, if I wasn’t careful enough.
If you looked over my balcony, up or down, an echoing view of the same ringed symmetry of Quads could be seen. I tried to avoid doing that as often as I could, especially now with my gut already gurgling sourly in protest from the bachelor’s feast of meal supplements I had last night.
“First stop,” I muttered to myself as I made a bee-line towards my first port-of-call. “…Fuel”
‘Kuppa-Koffee’ beckoned like a siren’s song, the synthetic earthy aroma tugged at my foggy senses and my bleary eyes drifted towards the beacon of neon light fixtures that bordered the little stall. Something I should mention, in the few, scattered days and weeks of a year I actually spent here at my home station, there was only ever one employee working the K-K stall whenever I turned up.
It was a little unnerving, at first, seeing the same fella time after time. I was convinced for a while that the guy must have been some type of high-tech cyberserver droid to be pulling the hours he was doing, either that or a steady transfusion under the counter that was feeding him his own product on a consistent flow. Whatever the score, it was weird. But then, after a few visits and a bit of awkward small-talk to break the ice, I found myself looking forward to our little exchanges and idle banter.
Damn, even I know that sounded pathetic…
“Well, well. My favourite customer has decided to grace my little corner of the galaxy with his patronage once again.” Borch’s heavily accented bellow came from within the Koffee stall. The guy was a bear to look at but he had a poet’s way with words, I had to give him that!
“I bet you say that to all the ladies.” I said, slumping into the only stool they could fit by the stall’s counter.
The laugh that followed would have seemed outrageous in its volume, were it not for the overwhelming hubbub of background noise emanating from the river of strangers passing through in their own private, little worlds. Safe to say, it was loud enough to knock my headache up a couple of notches and nearly sent me straight off my seat.
“Rapier-witted as ever, eh space-ace! And all before your first brew… I am impressed!”
“Stow it, Borch. Just bring me a cup of your finest mud.”
Borch was a hefty guy, more hair than muscle (though he had an intimidating amount of both, to be sure.), and that was only what I could see on his forearms and face. The rest of him was always either enveloped in a crisp ‘Kuppa-Koffee’ uniform or hidden behind the stall’s counter, which took up nearly every inch of floor space. Somehow Borch could dance around that place, defying physical limitations and poorly planned working environments, and come back with the best damn cup of java this side of the system. Nails it, every time.
“That’ll be twenty three credits, good sir.” Borch said, sliding over a steaming cup with one of his hairy-knuckled paws.
“Twenty wha- How?”
“You conveniently forgetting you tab, Space-Ace?”
“Aw, crap.” My promises of paying my dues to Borch before my last run slowly surfacing from the murky recesses of my mind.
“‘Aw, crap’ Indeed. Lucky for you that I’m feeling a mite bit charitable today. You can settle your tab after your next run, but you best not forget! Or there will be a size medium ‘K-K’ uniform waiting for you when you get back!”
“How did you guess I had a job offer?” I asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the idea of me working off my debt in Borch’s café. It was a running joke of his and he would even make the comment that I’d probably be earning a better wage than I was now. Thing was, he was probably right too… bastard.
“It’s the only time you ever come out for some fresh air, ace!” Borch beamed widely, fanning his orange beard out like a smug rooster. “Just don’t tell me it’s another one of ‘Big Buck’s’ ideas, because someone of you calibre should have learnt from past mistakes by now…”
“Ok, then I won’t tell you.” Having quaffed my magma-hot drink as fast as my throat would allow, I slid away from the counter with a last glimpse of Borch’s disapproving frown following me into the sea of nameless faces.

*

Big Buck’s place was, ironically, a rather cramped section of Quads, tucked away where most folk wouldn’t bother to go. A squat, windowless room with a sagging desk and always smelled of stale smoke and sweat.
“You made it. Good, good!”
Buck was sat in his usual spot behind his desk, his bulging folds poking through his over-burdened office chair like uncooked dough, with a thick Serco-cigar smoking between his sausage fingers that oozed out a steady stream of caustic smoke. His crooked toothed smile did little to improve his jowly features and there was always a greedy glint in his eyes that always put me on edge.
“Yeah, I made it.” I took a seat opposite, slouching as best I could to avoid the floating layer of billowing fumes that hung over our heads. “So what’s this job entail then, Buck?”
“What?” Buck rebuked incredulously, his face a picture of stunned disbelief. “No ‘How’s thing’s?’ or ‘Gee, thanks for the hot-tip, Buck!’. You cut me deep sometime, Corv. You really do.”
“Yeah, sure. I forgot to thank you for the last ‘hot-tip’ you sent me on,” I shot back at him, pleased at the contrite look that my acidic reply brought on. “And left me to take the heat, I might add!”
“How was I to know those holo-disks were tagged? As far as I was aware, they were just your run-of-the-mill Corvus skin flicks that those miners are always beggin’ for!”
“The station guards were on my ass before I’d left the NFZ!” I seethed at his poor attempt to divert the blame for that fiasco (one of many, too!). “Isn’t it your job to sift through all the chaff and find me the jobs that won’t get me booked?!”
“Which is why I called you now.”
“Give me one good, god-damn reason why I shouldn’t bust your nose and walk outta here, Buck!” I rose from my seat to add emphasis to my words, aiming the most intimidating glare I could muster for the occasion.
“‘Cause I’ve got an offer you can’t refuse…”

*

…and he did.
Somehow Buck had managed to get his fat fingers on a shipment of something ‘real fancy’, as he put it (I didn’t ask where from and he didn’t tell, of course.). More than a dozen CU’s worth of some Advanced Cybernetic Recreational/Entertainment Androids (or as I like to call them ‘Rom-bots’), had manage to find their way into one of Big Buck’s storage depots. Apparently, there’s a big calling from some of the lonely miners out in the stix (the Grey sectors especially, where, as they say, ‘anything goes!’), who’ve been snatching these babies up for nearly ten-times what they’re usual price. All that I needed to provide was a fast ship, with a big enough hold to carry them all, and a bit of discretion
Two things that, luckily enough, happen to be my specialties.
I’m not sure if I’d have given the big bastard a smack or two if our ‘chat’ had gone the other way, since I did manage to slip away from the station security without getting myself collared… after a brief, but nail-biting, chase through an oncoming convoy of trade freighters, that is. The thought of all those credits coming my way once this run was over definitely took the wind out of my sails and before I could say ‘I’m on board.’, the shipment was loaded and I was suiting up and headed for my dock.
Suited, booted and scooted right out into open space with a hold full of Rom-bots and a few crates of replacement mining equipment that I could use as a cover, if things went a bit awry.
I was back in my ship, my home away from home. A neat little Mark III Atlas, customised with a cap ship’s worth of hardware that could help me stay under the radar. I called her ‘The Clara-Li’, after a girl I fell hard for (but that was a whole other story that I’m not going to delve into, leastways not anytime soon.). This ship, though, she was my reason for being.
Ever since I was a kid, growing up on a fringe colony near the edges of UTI space, I’d always felt the stars calling me. Watching ships come and go was like a dream come true. Seeing each one burst into our atmosphere with a distant clap and descend like steel hawks from the sky, still gives me shivers when I think about them. I took my leave of the land-locked way of colonial life that my folks seemed to cherish so much as soon as I could and got my first wings (a rusty, old EC-100) with the savings I’d earned apprenticed to a ship maintenance crew at our home’s official UIT repair station. Those were some tough years! But I was young and eager to learn, happy to be taught all the essential lessons of a ship’s upkeep, ready for when I took my first flight exam.
Needless to say, a few bad choices and a fistful of wrong ideas later brought me where I am today. A no-name space-bum without a cred to my name, with a pretty sweet ride, a wagon full of sex-bots, slurping meal supplements from a ration sachet whilst I watched a few pilfered Corvus holos from Buck’s botch-job. The glamorous lifestyle of a space pilot, eh?

Hot Tip (PART 2 OF 3).

I didn’t even notice my sensor’s warning light blinking away, so engrossed was I in my viewing. I was in the middle of the steamy jungles of planet Onos IV, where Azurila (our nubile heroin), has encountered a band of head-hunters that have apparently decided to forego their usual habits of murder and cannibalism and, instead, decide to screw instead. Classy, I know. Judge me all you want but I blame the damn Rom-bots. Oh, that and the fact that I was well over a year since I’d last rolled with a girl. Must not forget that soul-crushing fact, either.
I’d just started to decrease the volume of a particularly awfully scripted scene (in the hopes that it might improve the quality of the film, which it didn’t.) when the nagging tone of the alarm system I’d installed caught my attention. It was only good for giving me a heads-up for any stowaways on-board, usually of the mangy rodent variety for the most part, but it was too damned sensitive! Kept tripping at the worst times. Like when I’m napping and Clara-Li’s auto-piloting for me or when I’m on the commode and Clara’s piloting for me… again. Come to think of it, she tends to do most of the flying if I can get away with it. Though I was at the helm now after a short and bumpy ride through an ice field that shook my ship about something awful early on in my trip. Point is, it bugged the crap out of me.
Even more so because every now and then the damn thing would be right and I’d find a big, dirty rat chomping through my merchandise. It’s why I always brought ‘Mr Sparky’ along with me (though never in sight, since my cabin’s always festooned with a carpet of trash and a collection of crap with vague, nostalgic value attached to them. So it was pretty tough to find anything you actually needed, when I needed it.).
Tonight was different, though.
I couldn’t put my finger on it as I detached myself from my private holo-suite and I stared at the blinking, amber warning light for several slow minutes with an odd feeling trickling down my spine. A breath of ice that brought goose bumps up on the back of my arms and neck. I snatched up old ‘Sparky’ from a pile of ‘Divine Palace’ take-away menus that had collected under the foot of my dash and made my way down to the cargo hold to check things out.
My footsteps rang hollow, like temple bells heralding my arrival. Up until now, I never realised how isolated and vulnerable I was, being out here on my own. I had always preferred the anonymity of being a one-man operation. It suited me, but it would’ve been nice to have someone nearby to re-assure me that I was just being paranoid. But I didn’t and there was no stopping my over-active, under-stimulated mind to start my pulse racing and my hands sweating. My palms kept sliding as I tried shifting my grip on Mr Sparky, which was little more than a home-made electric prod, and I could hear my own heartbeat pounding inside my skull.
I’m so wired, it’s got to be something in that koffee Borch made me. I’m never this edgy, especially not here with Clara-Li. She wasn’t just my ship, after all, she was my home.
I finally reached the immense Vismetal doors that lead into my ship’s hold, swiped the door seal and waited for the portal to slide away into its recess, before making my way inside. The steady hum of twelve thousand volts coursed through Sparky’s conduits as I stepped cautiously into the amber hued hold, keeping my eyes peeled for any darting shadows in the tail of my eye.
It was chilly in the cargo bay area and my free-hand trembled as I navigated my way through its dimly-lit aisles. It always paid to be slightly thrifty with expenses when going it alone in this business and, it was safe to say, decent and practical lighting for my hold had never been a high priority. Plus, it drained Clara’s battery like a vacuum in a sand-pit.
I edged around the haphazardly stacked, half-open crates of mining tools (courtesy of Buck’s barely sentient loading crew and their half-assed approach to careful handling.), which had been stacked closer to the main-door than I would have liked. I tried to step as quietly as I could, hoping not to spook any critters that were lurking around in the belly of my ship. One of the little bastards was probably nibbling a finger or toe off of one of my androids! As I rounded one of the narrow corners of space between the dozens of empty shelving units that took up the majority of the bay’s space, I caught my fist sight of the Advanced Cybernetic Recreational robots, which took my breath away.
Disturbing would have been one hell of an understatement, to be honest. Big Buck was obviously hoping to rake in one mother of a finder’s fee for this job, catering to every single, lonely mine-worker currently inhabiting the Grey Sectors, by the looks of things.
Three-storey high racks of line, after line of human replicas. Some were costumed, others completely nude, and they varied in size, tone, age and gender. There had to have been over a hundred of them, dangling like untethered marionettes from their suspension hooks and staring with their empty orbs into a distant nothing.
Creeping closer, I couldn’t help thinking how alive they looked, like they’d suddenly leap off their hooks and start belting out a show-tune, all together like. Crazy, I know, but the sight of them, all lined up like a warehouse assembly, completely blindsided me. I reached out with my left-hand, trembling, and squeezed the forearm of the nearest unit, a middle-aged, brunette in an acrylic nurse’s outfit, two-sizes too small, and jerked away instinctively from the feel of freezing cold flesh in my grip. My fingers seemed to peel away from the synthesised layer of skin that so resembled my own. It must have some sort of heated layer beneath all that, activated when the Rom-bot got turned on, maybe? I couldn’t really see the attraction of being touched by something that feels like it’s just spent a month floating in deep space.
I was just having a quick peek to see if I could spot a button or switch or something to turn it on (not that I would have used it for anything, just a mild professional curiosity on my part), still imagining the coordinated dance routines performed by these weird perversions of life, when I suddenly saw it.
It could have been there the whole time I was nosing around, for all I knew, but I never noticed it until just that second. It’s fair to say I nearly crapped my khakis.
One of the Rom-bots was standing in the middle of the aisle.
My lungs compressed as a sudden panic squeezed the air out of me and I think I might have even yelped a little. It stood with its back to me, a naked, slouching silhouette about ten feet or so away and wasn’t moving a muscle. I could tell it was another female droid, ebony-skinned and silver-haired and its head hung low as if in a standing slumber. I couldn’t even force myself to move, even an inch, and just continued to stare in open-mouthed incredulity for a second or two.
Then, without thinking (in an epic display of ineptitude that only yours truly could accomplish at such bad moment) Mr Sparky slipped out of my clammy hold and clanged to the floor with a resounding ricochet of steel on steel. The piece of hot-wired junk even let off some sparks as its tip connected with the deck, lighting me up real nice like the neon-holo ads that drew pilots into a station’s docks.
The android raised its head and pivoted slowly around to face me, a frozen mask of a smile beaming at me as its lifeless eyes locked on my own. Somehow, I knew I wasn’t going to be coming out of this one unscathed.

*

What happened next is still a blur, but I’ll try to fill in the blanks as best as I can.
I remember reaching down for Sparky, clumsily clutching at thin air for a few crucial seconds, unable to tear my eyes away from the slowly advancing Rom-bot. The android spotted me grabbing my improvised weapon and, as my questing fingers curled around its make-shift handle, it stalked its way toward me with that grin on its face, unblinking and unhurried in its movement.
I wasn’t sure how it had even been activated, or freed itself from the suspension rack, but I was certain that I didn’t want it coming any closer to me than it already was. Maybe the earlier collision with that ice field jostled it into action and off its hook? Or maybe Buck had managed to dump a hold-full of malfunctioning, murderous robots? Given my infamously bad luck streak I had concerning any of Buck’s jobs, it was entirely likely. A bit far-fetched but stranger things had happened in space, as the saying goes.
All these thoughts and more flashed through my mind while my body seemed to be rooted to the spot, mid-crouch. The droid was closing on me and I had to galvanise my limbs from their fear-filled stupor to at least get to my feet, if not run. I knew it was bad news to let that thing get to me, I don’t know how or why, but I was certain that it wasn’t going to give me a hug.
I’d just managed to get to my feet when I looked up and nearly jumped out of my skin as I realised the Rom-bot stood no more than three inches away from my face, so close that I could feel the simulated body heat radiating from its body. The droid’s head dropped to the right, slightly, giving the impression that it was appraising me in some way but her expression never faltered from that false seeming rictus of a smile. I couldn’t stand one more second of it.
“Back off, you damn freak!”
Now, I’m not usually too close-minded about things in my life if I can help it, but something about these walking, thinking sex machines really rubbed me the wrong way. Finding one waltzing around my ship (my home!) was just too much to bear. I didn’t even wait for its reaction and jabbed Mr Sparky as hard and fast as I could into the android’s exposed sternum.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Part of me hoped the voltage was enough to fry its circuits, while the other side of my brain though it’d do some type of electrified death-jig like you’d see in the movies.
It didn’t even flinch. Sure it sizzled a tidy-sized patch of false-flesh right off it framework and I definitely felt the blow land with enough force, it was like punching a steel wall, leaving my whole arm shaking and numb afterwards. It was about as effective as taking a slug at the side of a passing asteroid, for all the good it did, and there was a brief moment I had to consider the anti-climax of my bold move before the Rom-bot struck me and hurled my body like a rag-doll straight into an empty shelving rack.
When I came to, my whole world was an ocean of burning pain and I took in a ragged breath of air as though I hadn’t breathed for a while. I opened my eyes and gasped in horror to see it standing right over me. Near enough for me to make out every man-made crease and fold of it. I shook my head to clear my blurred vision and stop the image of her from pitching wildly back and forth, but that only made my brain rattle inside my skull and sent a spray of blood (my blood!) arcing across the droid’s breasts. It glanced down at the glistening traceries of crimson on her skin then turned towards me, once more, and aiming a lightning-fast kick right into my exposed side. A rib or three cracked loud enough to be heard over my throat-wrenching scream as I felt bone grind against splintered bone inside of me. Before I knew it, the droid had yanked me off the floor like a limp fish out of water, squirming in its clutches two feet off the ground, and launched me into the air again. I hit the deck so hard I nearly bit the tip of my tongue clean off.
“Oh thit!” I swore, dribbling blood and saliva from my already swelling tongue, when I saw the thing still coming for me and scrambled as fast as I could out of the way.
The bot lunged for me, open-armed, and I floundered into an awkward forward roll to avoid its grasp. White-hot lances of molten pain seared through me as splinters of loose bone ground together during my evasive tumble.
Not quick enough, though, as the android placed another kick to the back of my leg and sent me skidding across the floor like a hockey puck. My forehead cracked the same dented shelves I’d already been thrown into and I blacked out for a few seconds, at least. I came to with a hot, liquid sensation spreading down my face. I reached out for some purchase to rise to my feet again and at least attempt to escape certain death from being pummelled into paste by this psycho robot.
Flapping about in a daze, my fumbling fingers closed around the familiar grip of Mr Sparky’s handle. I didn’t even realise I had dropped it until now and I’d already seen that it was useless against it, but it felt like a small victory to have back in my possession again, regardless.
I didn’t get a chance to enjoy my brief elation at being reunited with my hand-made weapon, when a delicately shaped hand slid around my neck and gripped with a vice-like hold as it lifted me off the floor where I lay. Panic overcame me as pressure was slowly applied, the Rom-bots smile filled my entire world as the corners of my vision faded to black. I tried to scream from the pain of having my throat squeezed like a stress ball but I couldn’t even manage more than a strangled gurgling sound, spitting blood onto the robots shiny whites. The sound of my own erratic heartbeat thumped loudly in my ears and the will to fight drained out of me with every passing moment.
I don’t know where it came from but the thought of this being the last moment of my life just ignited a spark of defiance in me and spurred on one last effort at survival. Every ounce of strength I had left went into raising my right arm and bringing my weapon up to the droid’s face. I threw all my weight behind my strike, watching in hopeless satisfaction as the glowing tip of Sparky shattered the droid’s teeth and hit the back of its throat.
I’d never heard a noise like the one that followed. An inhuman shriek combined with the unmistakable sound of twelve thousand volts of electricity frying their way through the Rom-bot’s inner circuitry.
Wonderfully cool, recycled oxygen syphoned its way back into my bruised larynx as the droid pulled away, throwing itself backwards in mad spasms into the other suspended recreation units. Once, twice and then a third time it stuck the Rom-bot racks, its head swivelling from side to side and its silver mane catching alight and billowing noxious smelling smoke from its melting skull. I watched, struggling to gasp in sweet, lungful’s of air as it dropped to the deck, slowed then stopped to lie, unmoving, its scalp still smouldering and Mr Sparky jutting from its frozen smile.

Hot Tip (PART 3 of 3).

My miracle was to be short-lived, though.
I was so enthralled watching the android dance about in its death-throes that I’d failed to notice the remaining Rom-bots being activated by the commotion, until it was almost too late. One by one, they began to step out from their confined and turn towards me with that same dead-eyed stare. Every one of them smiling that same damn smile.
“You godda be kiddin’ me…”
One nearly killed me, how the hell could I hope to survive against what looked to be whole army of the bastards? Short answer: I wasn’t going to.
There was only one way I could get through this nightmare and still live to tell about it. My idea wouldn’t win me any favours when I got back home, mind you, but I’d sure feel quite highly of myself for doing it, job or no job!
Without another second to spare, I leaped to my feet and limped towards the crago bay door as fast as my battered body could carry me. My left leg hurt like hell from the last kick I received and wouldn’t take barely any of my weight, which made for a slightly comical and very terrifying hop to freedom. All the while the sounds of pursuit dogged me every step of the way.
I could hear them slamming their way through the aisles to get to me but I didn’t dare turn around and look, not even a quick glance in their direction, knowing that I wouldn’t like what I would see should I do so. Some of the droids must have been climbing onto the top of the shelving units, a god twenty feet above my head, from the sounds of it, which only encouraged me to grit my teeth against the pain of my injuries and attempt to pick up the pace. Suddenly a whole section of shelves toppled over to one side, creating a huge domino effect on the nearby racks and nearly dropping a tonne of steel frames right on top of me. It narrowly missed me by inches, thanks to a head-long dive at the last second that sent waves of agony shooting up from the tips of my toes to the top of my skull.
I looked up and saw that I’d landed right next to the pile of half-open crates of secon-hand mining tools and my heart skipped a beat with the realisation of how close I was to the exit. My guts turned cold when a glance back over my shoulder to see dozens of my pursuers clambering, with little or no trouble, towards me like fleshy spiders scuttling in for the kill. I half-slid, half-crawled my way backwards, too afraid to take my eyes of any of androids now that I’d turned to face them. One of my hands flew out from under me, slipping on a discarded tool from one of the crates and sent me sprawling on my back. Just as I made to hurl the offending item out of my way I suddenly realised what it was I was holding. A ten year old model of the ‘Arce’ Mining Lasers used by teams of miners sent out in protective suits to cut what the heavier-purpose ship lasers couldn’t. I didn’t waste a second praying that it wouldn’t short out and flicked on the primer trigger before I let her rip.
TZZZRRRT!
No recoil, no malfunction. Just one neat horizontal line of purest azure light that bifurcated anything standing in front of me, which was lucky since a half dozen naked androids had already closed the distance as I kick-started the cumbersome tool. I nearly whooped for joy when I saw a trio of Rom-bots topple to the ground in severed, smoking heaps from my second shot. I fired another three bursts of energy in their direction before I hopped my way to the cargo bay door.
I’d only just dragged myself through, swiping the key pad as I toppled into the doorway, when the portal slammed down and separated me from certain death at the hands of those merciless killing machines. It would probably hold long enough for what I had in mind, I hoped. All I had to do was reach the control console back in the cockpit, without collapsing from shock half-way.

*

Ten minutes or more passed by as I navigated the stairway to the cockpit with one lame leg and a couple of busted ribs, sweating and wheezing from the strain. Every step rewarded me with a painful jolt throughout my body and I was tormented the entire way by the sounds of metallic fists hammering insistently against the Visteel cargo hold door, stretching my already frayed nerves to breaking point.
The cockpit doors swished open to let me in and I headed right towards the main console, clenching my jaw against the pain of my wounds as I carved a path through the detritus strewn across the floor. My fingers danced over the keyboard, opening up the cargo hold command screen and I navigated a string of menu screens and safety procedures to find the one I wanted. I heard a distant grinding screech of twisted metal from a distance but I willed my trembling hands to keep tapping as I accessed the cargo jettison function. I’d lose everything I had that was worth a cred but it seemed an even trade for my own life. I only hoped they hadn’t breached the door yet and compromised the hold’s seal, which would counteract any jettison command I could give and avoid sucking the innards of my ship out into space.
“PLEASE ENTER VOICE CODED PASSWORD, CAPTAIN…”
A stiff-sounding computerised voice chimed, catching me by surprise. I’d never had to use this function before and had completely forgot about the security measures in place for this sort of thing. It took me a minute or two to remember what I would have chosen as a password before it suddenly dawned on me.
“Clala-Li” I lisped, my tongue so swollen now that it barely fit in my mouth.
“PASSWORD NOT RECOGNISED. PLEASE, TRY AGAIN…”
“CLALA-LI!” I yelled frantically.
“PASSWORD NOT RECOGNISED. PLEASE, TRY AGAIN…”
“Oh, shove it!”
What was I going to do? There was no other way to rid myself of my murderous cargo and no other avenue of escape. I could hear the droids forcing their way into the stairwell with every passing minute. I was trapped! Like a rat in a corner, I scanned my surroundings with a feverish gleam in my eyes, looking for any other means of escape. The thought of rats brought my attention to the ventilation shafts that they were so fond of hiding in, tucked beneath the command console and an idea struck me. Whipping the mining laser around, I flicked it back into life and melted a square patch of metal grating into its cover, large enough for me to squeeze through. Just then, I heard the familiar swish of the cockpit doors opening and there stood several Rom-bots, their metal claws showing through the rents of torn skin of their hands. I couldn’t believe they’d managed to punch their way through already, but I wasted no time in wondering how and proceeded to fire shot after liquefying shot into the doorway. I threw the laser at them for good measure before clambering on all fours into the vent.
I’d cheated death for a second time. I was sure I wouldn’t get another chance and that I’d used every bit of luck I was due but my ordeal wasn’t over yet.
I can’t recall how long it took me to snake my way through the length of my ship to get to the rear cabins, where Clara’s escape pods were located. It felt like hours and through it all I could hear the sound of droids belly-crawling their way through the vents after me. By now, I was bone-weary and probably in shock and I remember nothing much apart from the several injuries I’d sustained protesting every time I moved and the sound of my own laboured breathing reverberating all around me.
I had to kick out the vent cover as best as I could when I reached my goal, twisting my remaining good ankle in the process, but the sound of the droids approaching my position lent me a desperate strength, enough to shift the grate after a few heel-kicks. I slithered out, taking a few crucial seconds to orientate myself with my surroundings before making my slow way over to the escape pod console and activating its launch sequence. I’d barely got the pod hatch open when a movement in the corner of the room snapped my attention back over to the vent I’d entered the room from. A pair of slim, alabaster-white arms grasped outward, pulling a costumed body of a French maid with them and was soon joined by several other pairs of arms clutching at empty air in their eagerness to reach me.
I leaped into the pod, casting one last look at the incoming Rom-bots and flipped them a truly heartfelt bird before slamming the hatch home and punching in the the command to launch.
I couldn’t believe I was alive. Even as my pod fired off and away, giving me a final glimpse of my ship as I drifted inexorably away. I caught sight of the leering faces of several androids, grinning at me still through the open hole in Clara’s side as she slowly receded back into darkness. My last thought, as the pod’s in-built stasis began to kick-in and sent me into the warm embrace of chemically-induced sleep , was of the size-medium ‘Kuppa-Koffee’ uniform that would be waiting for me when I got home and the story I’d have to tell to Borch when I was back…
The End.

Thanks for this. In the interest of directing comments to your work and not where it has been posted, I will say now that I plan to move this to Role Playing soon.

Thanks for taking a look, hope u enjoyed reading it.

Thanks for the Inspiration
Might make a VO story on Wattpad

I haven't read this yet, but I do want to mention that it would be easier to read if you edited it to put an extra return between paragraphs so that they don't blend together. I know that normal literary convention is to use indents at the beginning of each paragraph, but the forum doesn't support indents, so we have to use block paragraphs instead.

Cheers for the advice, I'll keep it in mind for my next idea. Hope you'll get to take a look at this story, if you get the time