As he rained down heavy machine-gun fire and tossed grenades with pinpoint accuracy, the pig-guards realized their mistake. You don't try to pirate a hunter's data. And you certainly don't get between a goose and his mission.
He wasn’t there for a drink. He was there for the "131072 Protocol." As he rained down heavy machine-gun fire and
Goose didn’t hesitate. He slammed the data shard into his suit's uplink port. A holographic notification flickered across his visor: He wasn’t there for a drink
Suddenly, the doors to the cantina blew inward. A squad of heavy-armored pig-guards stormed in, their weapons primed. "Hand over the uplink, bird!" the lead guard bellowed. "That data belongs to the Empire!" it could crush a starship."
Power surged through his armor. His thrusters ignited, sending a wave of heat through the bar. In a blur of feathers and metal, he launched himself into the air. He wasn't just a bird anymore—he was a localized storm of high-explosive ordnance.
By the time the smoke cleared, the cantina was silent. Goose stood amidst the wreckage, adjusted his neck-guard, and waddled toward the exit. He had the code. He had the upgrades. And the Void King was about to find out that his reign was officially out of date.
His contact, a jittery droid with a leaking oil valve, slid a single, encrypted data shard across the table. "It’s all there," the droid whispered, its voice processors glitching. "The signature. It’s the master key to the Void King's fortress. But be careful, Goose. This code is wrapped in a .rar compression field so tight, it could crush a starship."