OMAKE: Letter of Marque
"It is currently 12:00 AM, X̸X̶/̸X̸X̴/200X, Hyrule Standard Time, and you are listening to the Strike Force Hazard Advisory Network. Spacefarers traveling in the vicinity of the Razak System are advised to reroute immediately. The Strike Force have confirmed reports of open warfare breaking out between the Yars and the Bydo, the latter of which have been encroaching into Yars space for several months. The Yars have been ambivalent to human shuttles passing through their territory, but the Bydo are known to attack non-Bydo vessels on sight. We heavily encourage ships to avoid the Razak System for the foreseeable future. Updates will be broadcast as the Yars-Bydo conflict develops.
Pigma Dengar's portable radio was only one of the many noises in the dingy interspatial roadhouse where his squadron had been celebrating their successful grounding of a Kilrathi cruiser. This slime-encrusted refueling station, the Shufflepuck, was built out of a hollowed-out asteroid whose vast remoteness from Hyrule made it a popular attraction for patrons from all manners of illegal persuasions. There were smugglers, hustlers, leg breakers, desperados with itchy trigger fingers, and the occasional serial killer for good measure. If you rounded up everyone in the building and tallied their bounties, the sum of zenny would be enough to get you a moderately-sized apartment in Wily Towers.
Or one contract from Star Wolf.
The job was simple, and executed without a hitch. Metpharm needed the planet of Irata cleared of competitors before they could construct a Coriolis Station in the system, and now the corp was free to use Irata as a new pipeline for selling human tech to alien buyers. Star Wolf was one of the priciest mercenary outfits you could buy, but when you had them on your side, you got what you paid for. The three pilots were able to lure the extraterrestrial cruiser out into the open, and before they knew what hit them, the feline aliens were wiped out by smart bombs.
"Additionally, spacers entering the Irata System are to remain mindful of the increased Kilrathi activity in the area. While the Kilrathi are able to communicate in pidgin English, caution is advised when dealing with these belligerent aliens. Do not retreat right away when encountering their fighters; the Kilrathi's predator instincts and Byzantine warrior code will obligate them to give chase. In systems beyond the Strike Force's jurisdiction, your best recourse is to issue a warning over the radio and fire a few shots across the bow before setting your Frame Shift Drive for an emergency jump towards the Hylian System."
The destruction of the Kilrathi in the area was so sudden that the Strike Force's tip line had yet to catch up to the news that they were gone. Between stuffing his face with cheap food and cheaper booze, the porcine uplift was wondering if he should be the one to call in and let them know they've been declawed.
"Remember to travel in numbers where possible to decrease the risk of attack from opportunistic raiders such as the Space Pirates and Star Wolf."
One could hear a pin drop when the radio dropped the Strike Force's slight against the infamous Star Wolf. Practically everyone there heard the insult except Pigma, who was too distracted by the opportunity to get paid four times for the same job to notice. One from MB for the first job of fighting the aliens, one from Uncle Albert for the Kilrathi ship salvage, one from the Eggman for letting slip where Metpharm was gonna be building their new station, and then another load of easy money from the Strike Force when they announced a price on the names of who smothered those cats in the cradle.
"Pigma?" Wolf O'Donnel said in a deceptively calm tone. "Could you turn that radio off?"
The captain of the Star Wolf squadron was a gray wolf by genetics and reputation. He spoke with an aristocratic inflection. While it was impossible for an uplift to be an Old Earth blueblood, moneyed or not, few people had the nerve to question where Wolf O'Donnel got the impression he could act like royalty. Wolf had survived innumerable dogfights as a mercenary pilot for Venom during the Lylat Wars, and came out the other end a seasoned ace with scores of kills to his name. The only blemish on his record was a black patch over his left eye. Lost in combat, but not replaced with cyberware out of respect to the one enemy that got the better of him. Wolf was decked in a blood red flight suit that marked him and his pack as a step above the rest, a dress code he took as seriously as his squad's professionalism.
"Bah, what's the big deal?" Pigma said, brushing off the order that was phrased as a request. "So they think we're like the Space Pirates. They called us all pirates back in the day. Hell, your rank was Pirate 1st Class! Now it's the humans sayin' the same damn thing! Big whoop, right?"
Pigma expected a round of laughter from his crack at the Strike Force's expense. Everyone here was a wanted scumbag. Why else would they be at the Shufflepuck? He knew he was disliked by most of them. They were envious of him being the smartest guy in the room. Even so, he expected at least a chuckle. Instead, Pigma was met with the same silent treatment he got from Lylatian circles that knew he sold them out during the war.
Was it suddenly Pigma's fault that Andross was paying more than the other side? A just cause didn't pay the bills, or afford you the finer things in life. General Pepper's space cops were unable to try him for his savvy business decisions from the war. He took the amnesty, and he'd been especially careful not to break it by staying far away from Lylat or Hyrule. Pigma was a free man, free to do as many crimes as he wanted where no one was looking.
Wolf stood up from his stool, where he'd been enjoying a premium bottle of Captain LeChuck spiced rum, made with sugarcane from plantations in the scant arable lands of the new human capital world. It wasn't cheap or easy to smuggle good alcohol this far past the corporate outposts, so Wolf did not appreciate Pigma inadvertent attempts to spoil his mood. He set down his drink so he could rectify Pigma's behavior.
"Pigma, Pigma, Pigma," Captain O'Donnell chided, in that chillingly peaceable tone he always used before meting out punishment. In one of his hands, Wolf toyed with a Kilrathi hunting dagger he'd been testing the weight of. "After all these years, you still don't know the difference between a pirate and a privateer?"
All of the convicted crooks and reprobates sitting in the stools between them found an excuse to be sitting elsewhere. Only now did Pigma realize that he'd overstepped his boundaries. Pushed a bit too far for his own good. Dengar knew his glib tongue had some room to trade barbs with the boss due to being a damn good pilot, but being damn good only got so far when you wounded Wolf's pride in his craft.
"How about we forget I said anything? We're privateers, Wolf, like you said, and--"
"A pirate is fairly indiscriminate in who they target," the captain explained, before tossing the heavy knife at Pigma's head.
The swine let out a suitably hoggish squeal of terror, fully expecting this was the day he pushed O'Donnel too far. He screwed his eyes shut and expected not to open them again, when he heard a thump and felt a tug on his collar. Once Pigma opened his eyes again, he saw that the knife punctured his jacket, pinning him to the metal wall of the bar. The alien blade clung uncomfortably close to his jugular vein.
"A privateer is precise. We have our contracts, and we carry them out to the letter. A pirate is a scoundrel who takes, and a privateer is a mercenary that delivers."
Wolf walked up to Pigma and pulled the dagger out of his coat. Were O'Donnel inclined to do so, the blade would've been ideally situated to slide horizontally across Pigma's neck.
"That is why Ridley's gaggle of freaks are called pirates, and why Star Wolf are not. Understand?"
The captain of Star Wolf stared into Pigma's eyes. The pig flinched, but Wolf glaring daggers at him was preferable to the alternative.
"Y-Yes sir."
Wolf backed away, and Pigma remembered how to breathe again.
"Good man."
"Rumors of U̶F̵O̶ ̴a̸c̴t̶i̶v̶i̵t̷y̶ in close proximity to Princeps Dominaire have thus far remained u̶n̴s̴u̴b̶s̶t̴a̶n̵t̵i̵a̷t̸e̵d̸--"
Leon Powalsky, the third member of the Star Wolf trio, was an understated presence in the bar. It suited the coldblooded assassin's reptilian nature not to make himself known unless absolutely necessary, though these days, the only thing this hard-angled chameleon killed outside of his starfighter was time on the shufflepuck table.
"--being treated as m̸a̵s̸s̷ ̵h̶y̸s̸t̸e̵r̵i̶a̶ for the time--"
As much as Leon detested Pigma's obnoxious behavior, there was a shortage of able pilots that met Wolf's draconian standards. Algy was long dead, letting Oinkinny onto the team for a period of time was an almost uncharacteristically political decision, and Wolf would rather scoop his other eye out with a spoon then ask Pico to come back after he retired. Last they knew, the snapping turtle had taken the amnesty in earnest, trading out his Wolfen for a racing machine.
Right now, there were no better options. Pigma was still useful, so he stayed on Star Wolf. Leon opted to do both of his teammates a favor and pushed the static-ridden radio off the counter.
"--repeat, there is no a̷l̷i̵e̴n̴ ̴a̵c̸t̷i̷v̸i̸t̶y̴ in or around the City--"
The hardened electronic device shattered on the harder floor, tidily resolving the issue. There were no more incidents after that, and the intensely frigid atmosphere around the bar from when Pigma struck Wolf's ire had steadily thawed to normal.
A day later, Star Wolf received the rest of their payment from Metpharm, stepped into their Wolfen fighters, and departed the Shufflepuck for their next destination.
"Hey, uh, thanks fer pullin' my fat out of the fryer," Pigma reluctantly said to Leon, once he'd had the chance to message his ship. "I thought he was gonna get me for real that time."
"Your squeals make you a preferable target for enemy fighters to shoot down," Leon said coldly.
"W-Whut?" Pigma sputtered.
"That is the reason I tolerate your presence. No more, no less. You retain usefulness to Star Wolf, and that is why Wolf keeps you around. Being difficult to replace and being irreplaceable are two very different things. You would do well not to forget it."
Before Pigma could respond, Leon cut off the call.
"Right," Pigma groused. He switched channels to Wolf's comm. "What's the next job?"
Wolf hailed both of his copilots and gave his team a sharp grin over the video display screen. The kind of smile that told Pigma this gig was going to be a lot harder than he'd hope for.
"The Yars might be alien fly men, but their gold spends as good as everyone else's. WIth the Bydo Empire threatening to turn their homeworld into free proteins, I've lined up an interpreter to help us determine how much they value their lives."
docs.google.com
