The Dive Bar on Drakus VII
The Broken Comet, a dingy dive bar on the backwater planet Drakus VII, was a haven for the disreputable. Its walls were scuffed and stained, the air thick with the stench of cheap liquor, sweat, and the faint tang of engine oil. A flickering holoscreen mounted above the bar provided the only source of light, casting a pale blue glow across the room.
A group of mercenaries occupied a corner booth, their patched armor and weathered faces betraying years of hard living. They were silent, nursing their drinks as they watched the unfolding news on the holoscreen.
The anchor, a polished figure with perfect hair, reported with grim seriousness.
"...the infamous mercenary leader Kren Malis and his crew have been captured by the Empire following their audacious rescue of Duke Erik Dowe. The Imperial response was swift and overwhelming, culminating in their capture earlier today. Details of their punishment remain undisclosed, but sources within the Empire suggest it will be severe—far beyond conventional execution. Reports from those who witnessed the scene claim that Empress Spotty herself arrived on the mercenary vessel to mete out justice."
The screen shifted to footage of Kren Malis and his crew, their faces grim as they faced off against Spotty. The camera lingered on Kren’s hollow eyes, the defiance gone from his expression, replaced by a haunting emptiness.
First Mercenary: Ren Talik
Ren Talik, a grizzled veteran with a prosthetic arm, leaned back in his seat, his face a mix of disgust and pity as he watched the footage. He swirled the dregs of his drink in his glass before slamming it back.
"Idiots," he muttered, his voice gravelly. "Thought they were hot shit takin’ a job like that. They should’ve known better."
Second Mercenary: Kara Delrin
Kara Delrin, a wiry woman with sharp eyes that missed nothing, snorted as she lit a cigarette. "Hot shit? More like delusional," she said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Rescue a high-profile prisoner like Dowe and think the Empire wouldn’t notice? That’s the kind of stupid that gets you killed."
She jabbed her cigarette toward the holoscreen, where the footage replayed. "And look at him now. Kren Malis, the big man himself, reduced to nothin’ more than a cautionary tale."
Third Mercenary: Jor Venik
Jor Venik, the youngest of the group, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His youthful features were marred by a fresh scar across his jaw, a souvenir from a botched job a month earlier. He stared at his drink, refusing to meet the others’ eyes.
"They were good," he said quietly, almost defensively. "Kren’s crew… they were some of the best. I mean, who could’ve predicted the Empire would throw that much firepower at them?"
Ren scoffed, slamming his empty glass onto the table. "Anyone with half a brain. You don’t take a job like that unless you’re ready to have the entire Imperial Navy breathin’ down your neck. And even then, you don’t take it!" He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Doesn’t matter how good you think you are—when the Empire gets involved, you’re done."
Fourth Mercenary: Garel Stross
Garel Stross, a hulking figure with a scar running down his temple, grunted in agreement. "And it wasn’t just the Navy," he rumbled, his deep voice cutting through the smoky air. "Spotty herself showed up. You think any crew’s walkin’ away from that?"
The table fell silent at the mention of the Empress’s name. Even in the farthest reaches of the multiverse, her reputation was legendary. Stories of her power—of her ability to crush fleets and enemies alike with terrifying precision—were enough to make even the most hardened mercenary think twice.
Kara
Kara tapped her ash into a cracked tray, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Kren probably thought he was clever. Maybe he figured he’d slip away, hide somewhere the Empire wouldn’t find him. But you don’t gamble with someone like her. Spotty doesn’t just catch you—she makes an example outta you."
Jor
Jor shifted again, his unease growing. "But… what kind of punishment is worse than death?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Kara exhaled another plume of smoke, her expression dark. "The kind that keeps you alive just to suffer. Rumor has it, she’s got powers that’ll make you wish you’d never been born."
Ren
Ren snorted, though there was no humor in it. "If half the stories about her are true, Kren and his crew are in for a long, miserable eternity." He glanced at Jor, his tone softening slightly. "Kid, let this be a lesson. When a job seems too big, too high-profile, you walk away. Doesn’t matter how much they’re payin’—you can’t spend credits if you’re dead… or worse."
The Room
The bar’s patrons had grown quieter as the news continued to play, the weight of the report settling over the room like a thick fog. The holoscreen displayed a final image of Kren Malis being shoved through a portal, his eyes vacant, his shoulders slumped.
Garel
Garel broke the silence, his tone grim. "They were fools for taking that job. Overconfident, arrogant fools. And now they’re payin’ the price."
Kara
Kara stubbed out her cigarette, her lips curling into a humorless smile. "Well, at least they’re famous now," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too bad they won’t be around to enjoy it."
The group fell into silence, their thoughts heavy as they stared into their drinks. The lesson was clear, unspoken but understood by all: no matter how skilled, no matter how confident, no one escaped the Empire. And no one crossed Spotty.