“Alright, pack up and let’s get this shit done,” Kamak said. “We are, again, not broke, but we do need a job fast.”

“Good luck with that,” Tooley said. She finished up their landing process and returned to the common room, kicking her feet up and selecting a video on her data pad.

“What, do you not help with the job hunt?”

“Nah, I’m freelance, baby,” Tooley said. “These guys don’t keep me busy, I’ll just get a job somewhere else. Better hurry, by the way. I still get gig requests from the Miner’s Guild sometimes, and they got pretty sweet benefits.”

“Liar. You love Doprel’s back rubs too much to ditch us,” Kamak said.

“They are very good back rubs,” Tooley said. “But they buy you an extra day of waiting, at most. Clock’s ticking.”

“Well, hold on, we still need to deal with something,” Doprel said.

“What?”

Doprel waved a giant, six-fingered hand in the direction of the collar Corey was still wearing.

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Kamak said. “Farsus took all the bits off, nobody will even recognize it.”

“Legally speaking it is still a slave collar,” Farsus said. “Even in the absence of its locking mechanisms and internal explosives. Slavery is illegal in Council space.”

“Okay, but it’s not a slave collar,” Kamak said. “He can take it off whenever he wants, he just doesn’t want to, because then he wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone.”

“We’ll still get stopped by every officer on the station,” Doprel said.

“Oh, wear a scarf or something,” Kamak said. “Tooley, you own scarves, right? Let him borrow one.”

“I don’t own scarves.”

“I’ve seen you wearing scarves.”

“I don’t wear scarves, I wear sashes,” Tooley protested. “And they’re my sashes. He can’t have them.”

“Alright, fine,” Kamak said. “I’ve just had a better idea anyway.”

***

Kamak’s “better idea” was currently tied to Corey’s neck. The sheet of plastic had “NOT SLAVE – TRYING TO FIND NEW TRANSLATOR” written on it in marker. It got funny looks, but the patrol officers on the station hadn’t stopped them for interrogation – yet.

The actual interior of the space station looked disappointingly like a terrestrial airport, a lot of long hallways and branching paths with the occasional storefront built into the walls. The inhabitants were a lot more colorful, though, often in the literal sense. The aliens were mostly humanoid, or “Kentath retrograde” as Farsus had called them, though they came in a lot of different colors, and some featured accessory evolutions like small horns or dermal ridges. The crowd was also dotted with much stranger, more diverse aliens like Doprel, things that didn’t follow the humanoid template -or any template, for that matter. Every now and then a small, gelatinous creature with a “U”-shaped anatomy and three eyes on either end of the curved body waddled past. While similar to Doprel in eschewing the humanoid body type, none of the aliens in the crowd looked exactly like Doprel. Corey made note of that, but kept the thought to himself.

“So, uh, do we just go to a bar, or is there like a guild, or something?”

“Depends on where you are,” Kamak said. “You can get a gig in a bar if you’re on a busy station, but this is station ain’t. Sometimes there’s a Guild branch, but at a place like this we’re probably going to end up at a terminal.”

“Okay, so what is a ‘Bounty Hunter’ then, anyway?” Corey asked. “Because apparently there’s regular cops.”

Some of which were staring at Corey right now, actually. He quickly unlatched his collar, removed it, and waved in their direction. They waved back, and then went back to doing nothing.

“Well, those are this system’s cops. There’s a lot of systems with a lot of different cops, different rules, you get the point,” Kamak said. “Bounty hunters are kind of a neutral, independent peacekeeping force slash mercenary workers. Sort of a middle man. And if something does end up going sideways and somebody makes a stink, governments can put all the blame on the individual bounty hunter instead of causing some interstellar diplomatic incidents.”

“The crew of the Hard Luck Hermit has been banned from three star systems,” Farsus said.

“Which sounds bad out of context, but it’s actually really good,” Doprel clarified.

“I got a buddy who can’t even enter the Cigar Galaxy anymore,” Kamak said. “Banned from all but like, five systems in the very center.”

“Cool. I’ve never been banned from anywhere.”

“Yet! Stick with us, kid, we’ll have you banned somewhere in no time. Possibly here,” Kamak said. “Take your collar off real quick again, those rent-a-cops are looking at us funny.”

Corey obliged, pointing to the sign on his chest as he did so, and the two patrol officers broke off their not-so-subtle attempt to follow the hunters.

“Perhaps we should prioritize purchasing Corvash a proper translation unit before we continue,” Farsus suggested. “The appearance of his collar is drawing unwarranted attention.”

“I could-”

“No, Doprel,” Kamak said. “We need to know where our next paycheck is coming from before you spend your savings on charity again.”

“Fine, fine,” Doprel said. “But as soon as we get a job we’re picking one up.”

***

“Armed escort, armed escort, armed escort,” Kamak said. “Shit there’s a lot of armed escorts. Raiders must be getting antsy.”

“Are those even bounties?”

“Not technically, but there’s not a lot of bounties to go around, really,” Kamak said. “You do a lot of mercenary work to make ends meet.”

Kamak continued scrolling through the bounty terminal. There was technically a Guild representative on site, but they were apparently a new hire and didn’t know jack shit about the actual work in the region, or work in general, for that matter. They were, however, receiving a very informative pep talk from Doprel.

“Couldn’t we just take an armed escort?”

“You got some bloodlust in you, Corey? I still got blaster marks you need to buff off my ship, I don’t want to take any more risky gigs, especially with a newbie along for the ride. You are along for the ride, right?”

“I don’t see a lot of ‘now hiring’ signs around here, and I need money to live, so...I guess,” Corey said. He’d been lucky enough to land in a decent spot with half-decent people. He saw no reason to tempt fate and try to find a new place, and risk ending up somewhere worse. The crew was a bit rough around the edges, but he doubted he’d find someone as nice as Doprel if he scoured half the galaxy.

“Great! Welcome aboard. Again, but officially this time,” Kamak said. “How do you feel about prisoner transport? This seems like our best bet, job-wise.”

“Just transport? As in taking him from one place to another, no capturing involved?”

“It’s easy, but it pays,” Kamak said. “That question was for politeness’s sake, by the way, I already accepted the job. I am the captain, you know.”

The data related to the job transferred to Kamak’s tablet, and he gave it a quick perusal.

“Oh, look at that, he’s a cannibal,” Kamak said. “I only slightly regret this. Oh, and his restraints don’t come with any kind of gag, that’ll be neat. Doprel, do we have any extra locks lying around the ship? Maybe a muzzle?”

“Not that I know of,” Doprel said.

“Maybe we can shop for one while you pick up Corey’s new translator,” Kamak said. “This guy looks bitey.”

The shopping trip had not yielded a muzzle, but they did get a translator.

“Alright, this process is usually pretty painless, but depending on what kind of nerves your species has behind the ear, it can hurt a little.”

“I should be fine,” Corey assured him. Doprel nodded and placed the small translator chip behind Corey’s ear. “Fuck!”

Corey managed to get out one coherent word before collapsing to the ground with a scream. Doprel tried to pick him up, but Kamak held him back.

“Just give him a second, it’ll be over soon,” Kamak said. “Only takes a bit for the wires to get into his brain.”

Doprel kept an eye on Corey anyway. He’d been lying on the floor for a suspiciously long time already. While Corey twitched a little, Kamak pushed their newly acquired prisoner into the cargo bay. He’d made it halfway there when Tooley came out to check on the source of the screaming and saw Corey writhing on the floor of the cargo bay.

“What’s his deal?”

“We bought him a translator piece,” Kamak said. “Apparently his species has a lot of nerve endings behind the ear.”

“Noted,” Tooley said. She stepped past Corey’s body and nodded to the prisoner in their transparent cell. “Then what’s his deal?”

“Prisoner transport,” Kamak said. “He committed some mild cannibalism.”

“Aw fuck, Kamak, you know I don’t like cannibals,” Tooley said, as she took a step back. Tooley had acquired a stronger than average distaste for cannibals -and a bite mark on her thigh- from personal experience.

“You like money,” Kamak said.

“I do like money.”

“It’s an Athudian job, you know how big they are on law and order,” Kamak said. “And efficiency, so speaking of, get back in the cockpit and start our flight check. Sooner we leave, the sooner we get this guy off our ship and get paid.”

Tooley would never dignify Kamak with a “Yes Captain” or even a salute, but she did head back to the cockpit to start the flight prep. While she sat down, Corey stumbled to his feet, and resisted the urge to rub the small metal chip now embedded in his skin.

“Fuck that hurt,” he mumbled, as he finally removed the clunky metal collar he wore.

“Sorry,” Doprel said.

“It ain’t your fault his species is apparently crazy sensitive behind the ears,” Kamak said. “You good, Corvash?”

“I’m getting there,” Corey said.

“Good,” Kamak said, before tossing Corey a thick cloth and a bottle of cleaning solution. “Once you’re all the way there, start buffing the blaster marks out of my cargo bay.”

“What?”

“I told you you were going to have to do it when we picked you up,” Kamak said. He gestured to the scorch marks left by their daring escape from the slaver vessel. “Don’t act all surprised. You get the ones inside the bay for now, you can do the outside at the next stop.”

“I’ll swing by and help later-”

“No, you won’t, Doprel,” Kamak said. “This is how we’re getting squared up. So far we’ve given Corey a job, a place to stay, a translator unit, and frankly a hell of a lot of booze at that drinking contest last night. Not to mention a crash course in galactic culture. He gets my ship cleaned up, we’ll call it square.”

“That’s a lot of work, though,” Doprel protested.

“It sounds fair to me,” Corey said. “He didn’t even mention that you guys literally saved my life.”

“Exactly. I’m being charitable here, but we’re all business partners at the end of the day, and frankly, Corey has not provided a return on investment yet,” Kamak said. He gestured to the cloth and then to the scorch marks on the walls. “Investment. Return.”

“Would you guys quit talking about bullshit and close the hangar so I can take off,” Tooley screamed from the cockpit. “I want to fly! And I want money! I want to fly us to money!”

“We’re going, we’re going,” Kamak said. He slammed his fist on the button that closed the hangar and then headed for the cockpit. “And I’m taking my chair back!”

As Kamak rushed forward to reclaim the copilots seat, Doprel lingered behind.

“Okay, if you really need help-”

“I’m good, Doprel, thank you,” Corey said. “Kamak is actually right. I need to earn my keep around here.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Doprel said. “But if you need more supplies, the cleaning cabinet is on the far side of the washroom, and if you change your mind-”

“Doprel, I got this,” Corey said. “I’m just polishing some scorch marks, it’s no big deal.”

“Alright, I get it,” Doprel said. “There’s spare blankets in the cabinet with the cleaning supplies, just in case you want to throw something over the cannibal box.”

The high-tech cell the cannibal was contained in was supposed to be soundproof, but the way he looked up when he was mentioned made Corey doubt that. It was also supposedly impossible for a normal humanoid to break out of -but Corey wasn’t sure of that either. He might’ve forgotten about their prisoner entirely if not for Doprel’s reminder, but now he was all too keenly aware of their presence -and their leering stare.

“No, that’ll be fine too, I’m sure Space Ted Bundy will behave himself,” Corey said. “What’s he going to do, leer at me?”

“It’s a very unsettling leer,” Doprel said. Corey gave the cannibal a second look and immediately looked away, shuddering with revulsion.

“Do you think he practiced that, or does it just come naturally when you become a cannibal?”

“I don’t know,” Doprel said. “I don’t really understand faces in general. I got mandibles.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I know weird when I see it, though,” Doprel said. “I’m going to get one of those blankets. I feel like he’s going to be fantasizing about cooking you the whole time he’s watching you.”

With that vivid fear planted firmly in Corey’s head, Doprel left to fetch a blanket while Corey got to work scrubbing the walls. The cannibal overseer didn’t make it easy, but Corey pushed through. He was many things, but Corey Vash was not a freeloader.