There are many things that may happen when a man stops giving a damn about his life. He may choose to commit suicide, deciding thereís no point in continuing. He may spend his days moping around, passively watching the world pass him by. He may mindlessly conform to the standards of his society, appearing as though nothing is wrong but without the passion for existence that others have. Or, he may decide Ďmight as well become a space pirate.í
Lt. Mike Eigenhauser had chosen the last option. He just happened to wake up one morning and realized he really didnít value anything in his life. Now he did try at first to just become depressed over this, developing an addiction to alcohol in the process. However, he realized after a few months that he didnít particularly like vomiting, and that the military was pretty damn whiny when it comes to drunks, even though he hardly ever had to operate any heavy machinery. It was also at this point he realized that the military just plain sucked balls, so he decided to leave.
Now Mike didnít actively look to become involved in a life of crime. In fact, he rather hated the need to fear for oneís life and freedom that came with such a life. So he instead took a job delivering shipments from planet to planet, basically a space trucker. However, he found himself meeting tighter and tighter deadlines, and not having much fun, so he just up and decided one day to take the companyís ship and shipment for himself. Selling the shipment proved to be of little difficulty, but it barely paid for painting his ship. But then it hit him: he was surrounded by people doing business, he had a ship, which he later named The Moldy Orange, and he kept a personal collection of firearms from his work in the military, so might as well become a space pirate.
After the initial months of being scared to death of being found and violently murdered by those he had stolen from, Mike found he was actually beginning to enjoy his work. He was easily able to support himself, and found that upgrading his shipís defense system and going after larger and larger things to steal. Besides, the only bounty hunter he had run into was a nervous little guy, and a bad shot to boot. One quick break of the wrist, and the guy didnít bother him anymore. Yeah, the life of a space pirate was pretty sweet. A man in his late 20s entered the room. He seemed quite hairy, with dark brown hair down to his neck, a bushy mustache extending to his chin, and somewhat ridiculous muttonchops.

He wore a green vest over an off-white polo shirt, with brown khakis and army-issue boots. On his belt he had a pistol, one of those standard issue from Earthís military. He glanced around for a bit, then found himself a place to sit near where most other people were and leaned back comfortably. His feelings were about what they usually were, apathy to most everything and anything. Fortunately, this did little to interfere with his reaction time.