Interplanetary rag-and-bone man Iorgi Murrett is fed up. He's about ready to pack it all in and become a shill for the Company, though it's on record that he'd rather be on fire.
Then, while searching for scrap metal, he uncovers the buried hatch to an ancient starcraft. Forced to take refuge within its armored walls, he's trapped as its defense mechanisms come online, making him the proud owner of the 500-year-old Battleship Apocalypse, a flagship in a severe state of disrepair, yet carrying a sophisticated defensive grid and bristling with experimental weapons.
Now Murrett is on the run across space in a ship held together with duct tape and hope. Joining him are a shrill and demanding princess who fancies herself a freedom fighter, a mining robot possessed by a vacuous alien, a one-armed smuggler, and an accountant who happened to answer his want-ad.
In pursuit? A team of pirates flying ice-cream vans, the Charter's mysterious and shadowy Agency, and the armies of the Eliak, who are...well, the rightful owners, if one really wanted to be picky about it.
While all the other kids in my class wanted to be rock stars, I wanted to be Jessica Fletcher from "Murder, She Wrote." Besides, I could only play keyboards, and there was no such thing as a sexy keyboardist. Still, this was the 1980s. Your mileage may vary.
My first story was published in 1993. My second story was...much better. I've published a bunch of short stories and a couple of novels since then, and I can still play several Duran Duran songs on the piano.
Disclaimer. The author is a friend, who I know from a chat room where he can make the most mundane matter sound entertaining. Here he has a bit more scope, in a light-hearted romp that pokes fun at any number of tropes. Read the summary on Goodreads for a glimpse at the plot that knits it all together.