(Nyrean Super Galaxy- Rtern Region)
(Illegally Modified Spacecraft – Left Wing Cargo Bay)
"Boss… are you sure that you didn't get scammed?" Gizmo asked hesitantly as he peered inside one of the crates being hauled across the floor.
"What are you talking about?" Captain Mordred growled as he rubbed his whiskers using his tiny furry paws.
"Well… I … mean… are you sure that humans eat that?" Gizmo continued to question with a clear undertone of uncertainty in his voice.
"It… looks… I… look boss… I'm just being honest here… it looks awful…"
"Are you the captain?" Captain Mordred sarcastically asked.
"No? Then fuck off and don't tell me how to do my job."
Rokan leaned against the back of a nearby wall and watched the scene unfold. Personally, he thought that Gizmo had asked a perfectly reasonable question.
What was inside those crates were chunks of raw meat that smelled awful and clearly were beginning to decay.
Bluish-green mold covered some of the pinkish- red chunks and it looked so unappetizing that Rokan had to close his mouth several times to prevent himself from throwing up.
Apparently, Captain Mordred had been informed by a trader that he trusted that humans were obsessed with the meat inside the cages.
Rokan didn't have the heart to tell him that he had clearly been lied to.
Oh well… it wasn't his concern.
He moved away from the wall and headed towards the large hall's exit.
The rest of the crew were busy putting away the merchandise, so no one noticed his disappearance.
It took around twenty minutes for Rokan to navigate his way through the labyrinth of multiple corridors and passageways that made up the interior of the spacecraft.
This was an illegally modified spacefaring vessel that had clearly not been built to code.
There was a feeling of unprofessionalism in the way it had been constructed as if each individual part had been sloppily melted and welded together.
Still there was an odd sense of charm to the madness.
A rough sense of wear and tear that came with life of a smuggler.
Rokan opened the door to his private cabin and stepped inside. The first thing that he did was take off his shoes and make his way over to the bed.
He lay down on the mattress and stared upwards at the blank white ceiling.
As a god stage cultivator, he no longer required any sleep… well it was more accurate to say that he could no longer fall asleep… at least naturally.
Even with most of his cultivation and spiritual senses sealed away… the cells in his body were simply too active.
An inconvenient side effect but it was a price that he along with everyone else would be willing to pay for the strength to rival an entire fleet of starships.
Rokan absentmindedly touched the top of his shirt right above the area of his chest where the pink mark had been branded into his skin.
He could remember the scene as though it was just yesterday.
During one of his many lovemaking sessions with his fierce and beautiful wife, she suddenly bit down hard on his shoulder and shoved her qi into his meridians.
It was a rough and violent process but that was how she normally behaved when she got too passionate during sex so Rokan assumed that it was nothing special.
Little did he know that he would wake up the next morning with a massive headache and huge marking branded across his chest.
When he asked Thai'lle about what she had done, the gorgeous Arachnais princess simply smiled at him and said,
"Just making sure you know… you're mine."
Hopefully his daughter had not picked up any of her mother's bad habits otherwise Rokan felt a tinge of sympathy for Cleo.
A sudden burst of warmth erupted from the marking and Rokan frowned slightly. These flare ups were happening more frequently, and he had no idea what they meant.
He had tried many times to research the brand on his skin but there was little to no information in the Earth Federation archives.
Even the top-secret military databases had nothing useful.
Rokan let out a small sigh and adjusted the hard pillow beneath his head. Not exactly a first-class experience but at this point he just wanted to go home.
Maybe as a young man he would be thrilled to be on an adventure in the middle of enemy territory, but he was too old for this shit now.
And he had a daughter to return home to.
Rokan closed his eyes and took in a few gentle breaths.
He would not be able to sleep but at least he would get the chance to relax and unwind after an eventful day.
.
.
.
.
(Two Weeks Later)
(Command Deck- Central Room)
"Fuck," Captain Mordred muttered under his breath as he stared at the numerous display screens that were flashing red exclamation marks.
A cold metallic voice began to scream out from the loudspeakers as the starship's onboard AI system activated in response to the threat.
[Warning! Warning! Warning!]
[Tractor Beam Detected!]
Alarms began to blare out and the rest of the room was thrown into chaos as his crew began to panic.
[Warning! Warning! Warning!]
"Shut up! I can see the threat! Computer override alarm prompt… authority code Delta Gamma Seven!" Captain Mordred yelled loudly.
The alarms and the warnings immediately ceased, and the room fell eerily silent save for the hushed whispers and looks of panic that the crew members exchanged at each other.
"Syra… establish a command link with the Feds… the rest of you… if you are not a member of the core team… get out now," Captain Mordred ordered sternly.
There was a shuffling of chairs as at least seven crew members hurriedly left the room while a feminine alien wearing a green jumpsuit quickly typed out a series of commands.
A massive holographic screen was then projected into the middle of the space and the screen flickered twice.
Suddenly the image shifted, and one could see a creature relaxing comfortably on a throne made from animal bones.
The creature was tall with a robust and muscular build that was covered in soft downy feathers along the edges of his skin.
His eyes contained vertical pupils and were completely white. Horrific scars covered his orange beak and a pair of damaged wings hung useless from his back.
He wore a golden uniform with a single star embroidered on the top left shoulder that was prominently displayed.
Captain Mordred bowed his head respectfully and waited for the man to speak first. He may have appeared calm and in control but internally his mind was a mess.
An inquisitor? Here?
Was he here to capture him and his crew?
No… inquisitors were only sent for rank A criminals and above… he was just a smuggler. He should be classified at rank D or hell… even E!
"What is your name citizen?" the inquisitor lazily asked while reaching for a glass filled with a purplish liquid that was next to his chair.
"Mordred du Corant," Captain Mordred smoothly replied while making sure that his tone conveyed only respect.
The inquisitor smirked and gestured at someone offscreen. Soon a tablet was handed over to him and he used his claws to flick through the screen.
"Hmm… you were arrested two years ago for crimes of smuggling, extortion and theft… is that correct?" the inquisitor asked calmly.
"Yes… but… I was only found guilty of smuggling," Captain Mordred hurriedly defended himself.
"My lawyer… I mean the jury and the judge said that I was completely innocent of the other charges!"
"Is that so?" the inquisitor smirked as he tossed the tablet to the side.
"No need to panic… I am not here to deal with lowlifes like you… tell me… have you see any strange lifeforms recently?"
"Two legs… two arms… human-shaped?"
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