Andrus walked down the ramp of his ship in his battle-scarred armored space suit. Two blaster pistols hung at his hips. A blaster rifle was slung over his back, the rear stock always in reach. As he exited his exotic ship, a drone probot buzzed past him and up into the rafters of the docking bay.
Another job, another paycheck. Still, this was feeling less random which each mission. His last job had too many parallels with his past. This one seemed like the next step in unraveling the mystery laid out before him the night he stood over his parents murdered bodies. First, a corrupt politician ensconced in the black market. Now, a shipping nexus plagued with disappearing cargo. Andrus sensed an unseen hand guiding his course.
A thin and fragile looking woman approached him. She had a data pad...
Please subscribe to keep reading.