The meager green creature moved cautiously through the narrow air duct, trying to be as quiet as possible. Any loud noise could be the end of him, and he knew it. He lamented the darkness that surrounded him. The voice in his head shot back irritably. Then open your eyes maybe? The inflection at the end making it sound like more of an impatient question, much like an adult reasoning with a stubborn child.

Thrakker let out an abashed ‘Oh’ as he opened his large amber eyes. He squinted and blinked painfully as light forced its way past his pupils. The irises worked hard in response and constricted as quickly as they could, but it was far from the speed of light.

A small air vent directly in front of him spilled stinging light into the otherwise dark passage. He shook his head breaking line of sight with the offending beam. His ears made a soft “fwoop” as they brushed against the cramped sheet metal walls. Thrakker exhaled and froze, startled by the loud resonance in the cramped air duct . Damned ears, too big, always in the way.

Thrakker let his eyes adapt to their new reality and peered through the vent into the captain’s quarters. The room had been his, before the devious Captain Travish, came and took it from him and anointed himself Captain.. Captain!! . That damned pirate had stolen his ship! Well, technically, Thrakker had stolen the ship from someone else first; but he had come to view it as his property. He realized he was much more of a fan of “finders keeps” than “losers weepers”

Thrakker would be the first to admit that he hadn't been a great Captain but he had done his best his ship and crew. . Hell, when he thought of it Thrakker didn’t even have a single clue of how he'd been so lucky in the first place. Ersatzaster, commander and owner of a space worthy ship replete with crew and supplies.. Maybe it was fitting that the moment trouble came in the form of a pirate boarding party, the whole crew also mutinied against him.

Luck was an odd thing, but something Thrakker had plenty of, and he relied on it.. Circumstances hadn't kept him down long. He’d known it was just a matter of time before he escaped the small cell they had so callously tossed him in.They didn’t even have the courtesy to offer him a blanket, after all he’d done for them!. He was really pissed at the whole mutity thing but the lack of any common comforts in that cold cell provided an endless supply of revenge fuel. That was just cruel and he would make them pay for their cruelty.

Ganzo station was where they were headed, and that’s where he would make his grand escape from his own ship “The Shoddy Gurl”. He wanted to add an HMS in there, but he had no majesty to speak of.

The room looked clear and quiet. With a little luck, everybody was down at the holding cells wondering how the meager goblin, (as the humans referred to his race) had gotten out of it. It was time to test his luck, just a little bit. Sure would be nice if there were no screws in this vent. Ask and ye shall receive was usually how things worked out for the disgraced captain. He worked his dirty pointed nails under the lip of the vent, and sure enough, it lifted free of its frame.

A crooked grin spread hungrily across his face, his sharp mismatched teeth showing from under his green chapped lips in all their yellow glory. Today is gonna be a good day. Placing the vent to the side of the opening, he hooked his hands over the edge and dropped down, bending his knees to help absorb the impact, trying to be as stealthy as possible.

WHAT HAVE THEY DONE!!! Thrakker thought angrily, shouting in his head, My office! It’s clean, why, why would they do this to me!?. He looked around as he got over the shock. His usual piles of refuse had been cleared. And the air. It smelled fresh, almost perfumed. Exquisite paintings hung neatly upon the walls, stains had been removed from the floor, and the desk stood polished to a mirror shine, with papers neatly organized and stacked off to one side. He dare not imagine what sort of order the bedroom might have been put into. He completed the quick scan of the room, twitching visibly as he dealt with the flood of emotions. This wouldn’t do, not in his old office.

He needed his tools, they had to be in this cleanly nightmare somewhere! There! A chest was against the wall, and if Thrakker knew anything about chests it was that they always contained important things. Plus it was his old footlocker.

He walked past the desk on his way over to the chest, dragging his hand across the top of the polished surface as he went, pulling all the papers off, scattering them to the floor as he passed. Crouching down in front of the chest, he gave it a quick look over. I would have trapped it, I would have trapped it right abouuuuuuttttt, here! He worked his hands nimbly around the lock, disarming the trap and popping the lock with relative ease thanks to a little luck, some know-how, and some disgustingly long fingernails. That’s the stuff. His grin grew even larger, The chest did hold his belongs, as he had predicted. A pair of glasses with adjustable tiny, that allowed him to make full use of the multitool he pulled out next, a handy little thing, it had all the versatility it needed and more with one end doubling as a plasma torch. Along with the glasses and multitool, Thrakker pulled out a small holoprojector, a waist holster, and lastly his leather jacket with his face plastered on the back. He pulled that on, donned his shades, fastened the holster to his waist, and fired up the plasma torch, making sure to set it to a small enough focus, that it could cut through wood before it had time to burn. Gotta fix that desk.

He couldn’t stop the little gleeful giggle that escaped him, as the torch started to blast its way through the desk, the polish of the wood smoking up around him. In no time the desk was neatly cut in half, Thrakker gave the multitool a flourishing twirl as he tucked it away on his person. There was a moment's pause before the fire alarm went off and the sprinklers fired all at once. The giggle escalated to a cackle as the room was drenched. Stop wasting time. The voice in his head chided. He ran quickly into the bedroom. “Always time for fun!” Thakker shot back.

He flung the drawers out of the dresser to make sure everything would get completely soaked. His work complete, he turned to make it back to the vent. A slight glimmer caught his eye laying among the remains of the smoking desk. Oooo, shiny. Thrakker grabbed the small data slate, pocketing that too for good measure. Then he jumped back up to the vent, catching the lip he pulled himself up over the edge, and back into the darkness he had come from. Carefully he placed the vent cover back into its frame, to cover his tracks and leave no hint as to how he was moving through the ship. Abandoning stealth he moved quickly down the duct, trusting the fire alarm to cover his escape. As the blaring alarms faded with distance he slowed his pace, once more assuming a quieter approach. Next stop the cargo hold.