"Every living being is born with a destiny. The weak allow their destiny to control them. The strong control their own destiny. You are not one of the weak, Rhett."
Those words sometimes crop back up in my mind from time to time. Words from my distant past, from a strong person who always will hold a place in my heart.
But I prefer to not think about my past; I try to focus solely on the present.
I was a much different person back then, living a much different life. While there are things I definitely miss, there is one thing about my life now that makes it all worth it. Freedom.
I have absolute freedom in my life. Why? Because I'm a freelance mercenary. It's a pretty sweet gig, all things considered.
Of course, depending on the jobs I take, there can be some real danger. But lucky for me, I'm me. Danger is my middle name; honestly, nothing gives me more of a rush than danger nowadays.
I live on nothing more than a humble star freighter. It's a more rugged-looking grey-colored freighter. The old girl has plenty of room. She's not the prettiest starship in the cosmos to look at, covered in her fair share of scorch marks and battle scars, but I didn't acquire her because of her looks. I use her because she's built for speed and survival.
I've had my fair share of tough jams over the years, and the old girl got me through them every time. Excuse me, where have my manners gone? I haven't even introduced her formally; the name of my ship is the Zeffer Oni.
Now that I'm thinking about it, I should probably introduce myself as well. I'm known throughout the galaxy far and wide as the handsome renegade freelancer; the name is Rhett Cutter.
Some people have told me I'm full of myself; I beg to differ. I find that I'm rather humble in most respects. It's not like I constantly flaunt how I was born incredibly smart, with a perfectly symmetrical face, luxurious naturally spiky black hair, and a killer fashion sense with my stylish red spacer outfit. Oh, and did I forget to mention that I have some of the best gunslinging skills of this half of the galaxy? Because I do.
My twin pistols never leave my side. I call the right one Fortuna and the left one Codswell. Why did I name them that? I couldn't say; the names just came to me and stuck.
I feel like I got lost in praising myself. Where was I? Oh right, freedom.
As a freelance mercenary, I get to live how I want on the old Zeffer Oni. I live under nobody else's rules but my own. I take whichever jobs I feel, usually the ones with the biggest pay. I just love spending those crowns.
Also, I am well aware a lot of us mercenaries get a bad rap. There are plenty of my kind that do some not too savory jobs. I'm happy to say that I'm not one of those. Don't get me wrong, these guns aren't for show; they're for action when the time comes. But I prefer to keep my hands clean of the more unsavory types of jobs that are offered out by gangsters and the like, such as assassinations or trafficking people. Never really been my scene.
I mainly cover jobs like protection rackets, escorts, a bit of smuggling, and probably my favorite of them all, heists. In fact, my ship is currently star jumping to a heist scheme right now.
My ever-reliable droid, Greasefire, is currently navigating the ship to our destination as we speak while I rest in my quarters.
Greasefire is the navigation and maintenance droid that came with the ship. He's a bit of a worrywart and all, but I've grown fond of him. I'm not really sure what model of droid he is exactly; droids were never my area of expertise or anything. I just call him Greasefire, mainly because of what happened the first and only time I let that robot cook.
His design makes him look a bit outdated; he has a few exposed servos and the like, but he's a charming navy-plated fella. He's also rather tall, about three inches bigger than me, making him stand at six foot two.
I told him to notify me when we arrive. What planet are we headed to? The lovely planet of Thaloreth. I've always heard it's a splendid place to vacation in terms of weather. It's an absolutely beautiful sunny planet with a bunch of winding rivers and greenery. Every day there is essentially a nice spring morning.
It probably would be one of the most popular tourist spots in the whole galaxy if it wasn't for one major issue: the politics. Half of that world is essentially a war zone. I'm not super aware of the details myself, but apparently some big war broke out between a bunch of their aristocrats after the previous king's death. It's been raging for a couple years as far as I'm aware.
While I'm no fan of war, I'm a huge fan of taking money and treasures from rich yuppies. That's what it appears I'll be doing on this particular job. I'm not too privy to the details yet, but I got the job from a trusty contact who goes by the name Aliester Tolm. Almost every job I've gotten through him paid big and ended up being loads of fun.
All I do know is that some aristocrat lady is hiring me to steal something from another aristocrat. Sounds simple enough on the surface; it should provide plenty of fun and crowns.
It seems all this thinking is finally making me dreary. Before we arrive, I think I'll catch a few winks. Better to be well rested before a big job, after all.
I barely have my eyes closed for a minute, however, before I hear a very familiar robotic voice call to me from the doorway of my living quarters.
"Master Rhett! Master Rhett!"
I open my eyes slowly and slink off my bed slowly. Of course he comes in right as I was finally drifting off, typical.
"Greasefire, how many times do I have to say it? Quit yelling my name when it's literally just the two of us on this ship. You can simply walk up to me and say my name, or even just tap my shoulder. Quit coming to me, acting all panicky."
"I... yes, sorry, Master Rhett. I suppose I still have much to learn. Anyway, you asked me to inform you when we arrived. Well... we've arrived."
After rubbing my eyes for a moment, I nod in acknowledgement at his statement before I walk past him and towards the bridge. Through the front window of the cockpit, I gaze at the planet we're slowly closing in on. It looks as beautiful as I'd always heard; it's a shame the state of things on this world; I'd have loved a nice vacation here one day.
"Look at that, Greasy. Doesn't this place just look lovely?"
"I'll have to take your word for it, master. My servers weren't properly wired to give an opinion on such matters as that."
"Yup, that's about the response I expected. Anyway, we're pulling up the map. We're supposed to meet our client in Halgreeno City. Dock the ship in the nearest spaceport. Meanwhile, I'll go have some coffee before we land; if I can't get my beauty sleep, then maybe a little caffeine stimulant can give me some energy."
Greasfire nods in acknowledgement at my instructions as he sits back in the cockpit. I head back into the dining area and prepare myself a cup of coffee, sitting down and taking a few moments to sit in silence.
After about ten minutes, I can feel as the ship is being parked in a docking bay. We're here. I begin checking myself, making sure I have everything I need before I disembark from the ship. Greasefire comes over to me and tells me the ship has been docked.
"I know, Greasy; it's pretty obvious from the vibrations. Here, take these crowns. That should cover the docking fee. You stay here and maintain the ship. I'm not sure exactly how long this job will take; if anything goes wrong on your end, feel free to use the ship's main terminal to call me on my mobile HoloCaster. Got it?"
"Yes, master. I understand. Good luck, come back in one piece."
"I always do Grease; I always do."
With that, I open the cargo bay doors and slowly step out of the ship. I watch as Greasefire heads over towards the dock workers and pays the docking fee. I then make my way towards the exit. My meeting is supposed to be in three hours; all I have to do now is find my way to Castellan Manor, the place I'm supposed to meet with my very wealthy client.
Here's to hoping this heist goes as smoothly as it possibly can.