All stories worth telling are about a hero. All stories worth listening to are about the great. All stories worth hearing are about the Powerful. All stories worth knowing are about the strong. Except this story. This story is not about the strong, it is not about the powerful, it is not about the great and it is only marginally about a hero.

This story takes place many years from now, in a system many light years from your location. This is the story of a young girl. It is about a young captain of a little ship. It is about a thrill seeker and a treasure hunter. It is about Cassarah Tal.

“Engines disabled.” The computer squealed at it’s pilot. “Shields failing.” It shouted. “Weapons are unresponsive.” The speakers announced. “Enemy boarding!”
“What?” Came a voice from the showers. “Did you say something Drake?”
“No Ma’am. Just running a system diagnostic.” The speaker of the Light Speed Freighter replied, moving to the next computer system. The AI returned to the shower room. “Though it might benefit you to know that the ship has been invaded by a hostile force. Internal defences have been activated.”
“WHAT?!?”

Cassarah Tal was a colony brat at birth. Like most colony brats Cassarah never new her family, she was just a worker, she was relatively ambitious though so she managed to make her way from simple cleaning grunt of the colony to dock worker. Though not a high paid capitol ship job in colony terms it was incredible. She worked day and night, just trying to scrape together enough credits to pay her way off of the rock, but eventually found another route. The girl stole a ship from a dead man.

The ships captain, and only crew member beside the repair droid, jumped out of the shower, grabbing up her clothes. She quickly pulled on her beige vest and black fitted bottoms, then her boots and finally her signature scarf and goggles. Cassarah threw her Electric blue hair back over her shoulder and cringed as the wetness soaked through the vest, leaving her wet all the way to where her hair ended at her lower back. The thrill seeker tied her hair up into a tail and grabbed her old 43rd century revolver. Un-like the standard laser guns issued these days the revolver was an antique, one that still fired projectiles and as such she had to make her own bullets, or find them in antique shops. The pistol was superbly designed, ergonomic perfection and its weight was just so much to feel like your holding something, and not so much as to cause strain. It was the only gun she could ever see herself using.

“Drake. Where are they?” she asked the Artificial intelligence installed in the ship. She felt it strange that the ship was so quiet, so eerily still. It wasn’t a large ship, and yet… she was yet to even catch a peep of the enemies. They had to be professionals, high class stealth experts that-
A movement ahead called forth a bullet from Cassarah’s pistol. Cassarah swung the revolver down at her target and fired. A clapping sound issued from the end of the gun and the bullet moved with a blue trail so quickly across the ship that it had buried itself deeply into the falling fire extinguisher even before Cass had realised that she was shooting at a piece of her own equipment.
“For the love of the Alter.” She cried, pressing her back against the wall, breathing hard. “Drake I need…” her eye caught a computer panel across from her. It was a ship diagnostic. “Engines at 100%... shields oporatio- Drake! You son of a toaster!”
“Ma’am, what is the problem.” The speakers asked as she stepped away from the wall and holstered her gun, well, pocketed it, she wasn’t wearing her holster.
“You Lying, Glorified, Can opener.” She yelled at the computer screen. “There isn’t any invading force is there?”
“No, Ma’am.” The computer admitted.
“Then why the heck am I sneaking around my own ship, shooting at the fire defence?” she shouted, throwing her arm in the direction of the fire extinguisher as it gushed white foam.
“I simply wished to inform you, Ma’am, that we have arrived at Balleil V, 30 thousand times over plundered city of the golden civilisation.”
“You can shut up now.” Cassarah sighed, noting the sarcasm in the computers tone. “I don’t want to hear any more about how the planet wont have anything left that’s worth taking. There’s always something worth taking.” The young captain turned and headed back towards her quarters, one of the only three bedrooms on the ship. “Head down and find a port.”

Cassarah stepped into her room and pulled her pistol out. She placed it on the side and walked over to her closet. The doors slid open and a long, light brown coat was handed out to the captain. Cassarah took it and waited as a holster was rolled out to her. “God I feel wasted…” she sighed. “That shower had felt so good until I was interrupted by your figment invasion.”
“Excuse me Ma’am but are you talking to me?”
“Just land the ship, Drake.” Cassarah sighed, putting her arms through the holes in the shoulder holster. She placed the gun in her under shoulder holster and grabbed her long coat.
“Hey, Drake, where’s my archaeology kit?” Cassarah paused. She smiled and then continued with, “Remember, when answering, that if I don’t find it I wont have any chance of finding anything of value, which means I wont be able to sell anything of value, which in turn means I can’t buy you any fuel, I’ll have to sell you for scraps and you will die.”
There was silence for a good 5 seconds and then Drake replied. “The Kit is by my Exit.”
“Thank you Drake.” Cassarah said, heading for the exit. “Inform me when we’ve landed, and send a map of the area to my holo-pad.”