Hard Luck Hermit

Corey had managed to use his datapad to navigate to the space version of Youtube. He counted that as a win. Now he wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. All of the videos were dealing with products he’d never seen, games he’d never played, and locations he’d never been to. It was too much information to have at his fingertips all at once, and Corey didn’t know what to do with any of it.

As his mind raced with the endless possibilities of the information laid out in front of him, Corey’s mind, being the mind of a twenty year old man, came to one inevitable conclusion. Where there was a space internet, there was probably space porn. Corey made his way back to the search function, not just for himself, but for every sci-fi fan who’d ever dreamed of this opportunity.

“Corey, we’re out of the bang gate!”

Doprel opened the door and poked his head in to make the announcement, prompting Corey to yelp with surprise and shove his datapad under his pillow.

“Oh, sorry, did I scare you?”

“No- sort of,” Corey said. Being interrupted was bad enough, being interrupted by an eight foot tall armored colossus with razor sharp mandibles on his face was actually genuinely terrifying. “Just in general, my culture expects you to knock before you enter someone’s private space.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll be sure to do that next time,” Doprel said. “But we’re done traveling through the Bang Gate now, and talking about where to go next. You should join us.”

“Yeah, sure, be there in a minute.”

Doprel left the room, and Corey quickly withdrew his datapad and cleared his search history before following him.

Tooley had taken the ship into deep space, far from the overcrowded Bang Gate exit, and left them adrift on the cosmic winds as they plotted their next move. The Arkenne Galaxy was the effective center of universal civilization, and a hub for travel throughout the known universe, so they had a lot of options.

“Hey, Corey, about time you joined us,” Kamak said. “You don’t know shit about shit, so help us decide where to go.”

“How am I supposed to help if I don’t know anything?”

“Me, Tooley, and Farsus all got different ideas about where to go,” Kamak said. “You can just pick whatever you like and we’ll do that.”

Without saying a word, Corey pointed to Doprel, silently asking why they didn’t simply use him as a tiebreaker.

“Doprel has made his suggestion, and it was summarily dismissed by all parties,” Farsus said. “Though mostly by our pilot.”

“I just thought it’d be nice for you to go-”

“Shut it, Doprel,” Tooley said. “Corey, back me up here, we want to go to Paga For. It’s a shithole of a planet, the kind of place where somebody always wants somebody else dead. Perfect place for bounty hunters.”

“Perfect place to get shot, more like,” Kamak protested. “Let’s go to GC Station 32. The ladies at the Guild network know me, they can line us up with a prime gig in a couple swaps.”

“And the simple compromise would be to travel to Centerpoint,” Farsus said. “The citadel is often overcrowded, but ripe with opportunity.”

“So there you have it,” Kamak said. “One great option and two mediocre ones. What do you want?”

“Well, let me ask a follow up question,” Corey said. “Which of them has the best shopping options?”

“What do you care?”

“I feel like I should remind you that I own literally nothing,” Corey said. “It’s nice that you have all these spare clothes in my size for some reason-”

“We were doing a transportation job for a passenger roughly your size recently,” Farsus said. “He perished.”

“In a way that was not our fault,” Kamak quickly interjected. “He got all touristy on a space station and leaned too far over a railing.”

“Dumbass,” Tooley said.

“Okay great! Now I definitely want to go shopping. Not really cool with the idea of wearing a dead guy’s luggage. Where do we go for the best shopping?”

Tooley and Kamak shared a reluctant look, then both shrugged and spoke together.

“Centerpoint,” they said in mutual agreement. Farsus nodded, with a broad smile on his hairy face.

“Centerpoint it is,” Corey said. “Plot a course, Tooley.”

“Don’t go giving orders on my ship,” Kamak said. “You got to make one bad decision, don’t get cocky.”

“It’s not all bad,” Tooley said, as she plugged in flight controls. “Bars on Centerpoint are decent. It’s no Paga For, but you can get your shit wrecked real good.”

“We’re going for business, not bars.”

“We can do that too,” Tooley said. “Sooner we get Corvash some body armor, sooner we can get into some gunning jobs.”

“There is that,” Kamak said.

“I was thinking more about pants that fit right, but body armor works,” Corey said.

“You’ll go through pants a lot faster without the right armor, the way we live,” Tooley said.

“I -what?”

“She is implying that lack of proper protection will result in damage to your garments,” Farsus said.

“What? No, I meant- never mind, let’s not start that conversation,” Tooley said. “Speaking of pants, tighten yours, we’re about to jump. Next stop, Centerpoint!”

“Admit it, human, this one is impressive,,” Kamak said.

“Yeah, no, I admit it. This one’s cool,” Corey said. While he’d been underwhelmed by their first space station stop off, Centerpoint did not disappoint.

The massive space station resembled an angular dome suspended in orbit around a red sun. Hexagonal platforms were linked together side by side, creating a cosmic beehive the size of a continent. The outskirts of the linked constructs still showed signs of construction and development, while the core cells were bursting with massive alien spires and elaborately linked buildings, the sheer size of which were visible even from a high orbit.

“Mind transmitting the landing codes, Kamak? I got to deal with this damn queuing process.”

The heights of galactic civilization also came with the lows of galactic bureaucracy -and overcrowding. Kamak navigated the complex registration and landing documentation process while Tooley did the literal navigating. Centerpoint was swarmed with starships coming and going from the stations, and short-range skiffs ferrying people from platform to platform, adding to the beehive-like nature of the hexagonal platforms. A comparison which had probably never occurred to anyone before Corey, since he doubted that other planets had bees. He briefly considered explaining the concept of bees, but decided against it.

One of the massive towers started to loom larger and larger on the horizon, eventually consuming their view entirely. The metal shell of the tower opened up to expose a small hangar, illuminated by flickering lamps, with two strips of runway lights beckoning them in. Tooley finessed the Hard Luck Hermit into the small space and set her down with a gentle bump.

“Easy,” Tooley said. She turned away from the controls and towards Kamak. “What’s first on the agenda, captain?”

“Oh, you actually going to leave the ship this time?”

“Yeah. I want to see what happens when Corey gets set loose in a store,” Tooley said.

“Hey.”

“What? It’s fun to watch people squirm,” Tooley said. “I’ll buy you a drink in exchange for the entertainment.”

“It better be a good drink,” Corey said.

“Naturally.”

“We’ll save it for after,” Kamak said. “Jobs first. If there’s a good opportunity we got to jump on, I want to know.”

“I would have thought that our unusually large, murderous payday from the cannibals would have earned us less urgency in seeking employment,” Farsus said.

“It could. We can take a few swaps rest if nothing jumps out at us, but if there’s a good looking job on the docket I want to take it,” Kamak said. “Come on, let’s move. Tooley, you’re in charge of Corey. Don’t let him get abducted, robbed, or molested.”

“Ugh, fine,” Tooley said. “Stick close, Corvash. I won’t let anyone touch you. Unless you want them to.”

“You can touch me all you want. Everybody else, I’d rather they didn’t,” Corey said. As the crew got moving, Tooley accepted the invitation by slapping Corey on the back to get him moving. The slap did very little to motivate Corey to move any faster, since he was already desperate to keep pace. The last thing he wanted was to get lost on an insane alien satellite. He’d probably be dead in a week if he lost track of the Kamak and the crew.

As they made their way out of the hangar area and further into the populated zones, Corey lowered his possible survival time to a few swaps. The interior of Centerpoint was a labyrinth, a tangled mishmash of corridors and connected structures made all the more confusing by the hustle and bustle of bodies and the constant environmental noise of alien adverts. Massive signs advertising products Corey had never heard of beamed out from half the exposed surfaces in sight, some of them merely printed ads, and others elaborate holographic displays featuring moving models. If any of those ads played with sound, it was all lost in the din of the crowd.

“Still with us, Corey?”

“Physically, yes,” Corey said. “Mentally, this is all a bit much.”

The crowd of aliens had already been diverse at their earlier space station stopoffs, but Centerpoint multiplied the variety by ten. Though still mostly humanoid, the aliens here came in shapes, sizes, and colors Corey hadn’t seen before. Some of them towered almost as high as Doprel, while others barely came up to Corey’s waist. Beyond the horns and skin colorations Corey had seen earlier, the aliens present on Centerpoint also had more wildly divergent evolution's like prehensile tails or extra eyes.

For the small portion of aliens that were not humanoid, the diversity was even greater. Colonies of small, stone-skinned creatures moved together like living rockslides on the ground, while leathery balloons coated in eyes floated overhead, buoyed by internal gas pockets. Over in a side alley, Corey caught a glimpse of someone with purple skin arguing with what appeared to be a pillar of flesh covered in jagged spikes. He didn’t spend very long looking at that one.

“So, uh, if I ever talk to one of these aliens that doesn’t have a face-”

“At the top,” Doprel said. “That’s where you look.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

“Everybody else wonders the same thing,” Kamak said. “We all agreed that the top was the best. Close to where the face would be on a humanoid, and very few species have their genitals at the very top of their bodies, so it’s usually a polite place to look.”

“Usually?”

“Listen, don’t worry about it,” Kamak said. “You’re new blood, just stand around quietly and try not to look stupid until you’ve got things figured out.”

“That might be a while,” Corey said, as he watched a living orb of gelatin roll through the crowd. Kamak just chuckled at him.

The group made their way out of the main transit thoroughfares and into more open territory. Centerpoint was still a tightly crowded station even in it’s most expansive plaza’s, but Corey at least had enough room to remove his elbows from his ribcage.

“Excuse me!”

Someone was shouting across the way, and Corey nearly turned to look, but Tooley grabbed him and kept his eyes forward.

“Don’t listen,” she advised. “They’re just trying to sell you something.”

“Often low quality recreational drugs or experimental pills which claim to enlarge one’s genitals,” Farsus said.

“Speaking from experience, Farsy?”

“The pursuit of chaotic cause and effect obliges me to try almost anything once,” Farsus said.

“Pardon me, sorry, I really need to talk to you!”

“Head down, eyes forward, casual but brisk pace,” Kamak said. “Do not turn around, and if they somehow get ahead of us, do not make eye contact.”

“No, I get it,” Corey said, as he maintained a casual but brisk pace. “This kind of thing is universal.”

Corey had dodged more than one persistent petition pusher back on Earth, during his brief tenure on a college campus. He put those skills to work as they continued crossing the plaza -and it became more and more apparent that whoever was shouting was after them specifically.

“Excuse me, I just need one moment of your time! You there, traveling with the large insectoid creature!”

“Oh, shit,” Kamak mumbled.

“Maybe we can lose her in the transit tubes,” Tooley suggested.

“This one seems persistent,” Farsus observed. “Perhaps it is best to confront our pursuer and discern her reasons.”

“Yeah, and worse case scenario, if we let her catch up, Doprel can punch her,” Kamak said.

“Not doing that,” Doprel said.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s a cop, Kamak.”

A massive finger pointed through the crowd, and the crew finally saw the face of their pursuer. That face was deep brown, with mottled black spots like a leopards, and an equally catlike mane of hair that stretched down her neck, back and shoulders. They wore the uniform of the Galactic Council police -albeit a noncombatant version. The crisp and professional outfit was better suited for the desk jockeys and pencil pushers who wore it. The breathless alien officer finally caught up to her quarry, then gave a sharp salute and a bright yet purely professional smile.

“Ah, finally. Greetings, visitors, I am To Vo La Su, registration officer number forty-three thousand eight-hundred and thirty-six of the Centerpoint division branch of Galactic Council Law Enforcement.”

“Hi,” Kamak said, his voice an utter black hole of excitement.

“I’m sorry to take up your time, but in accordance with docking protocol eighty-five dash b-one, all visitors to Centerpoint have their DNA scanned for security purposes-”

Corey looked around at the faces of his comrades. Nobody seemed all that perturbed. DNA scanning just to park seemed a bit extreme by Earth standards, but was apparently fairly normal in space. Normal enough that everyone aboard the Hard Luck Hermit had entirely forgotten about the procedure, and a small hiccup in it.

“-and it looks like your companion here has an unregistered DNA sequence,” To Vo said. “In accordance with the Grand Uplifting protocol charter page thirty-five section b dash one point zero point two, I am obligated to ascertain and verify every example of a potential new species for uplifting.”

“I-”

“You got the wrong lifeform,” Kamak interrupted. “This dude’s just a Gentanian, like me. Got a little gene modding to have hair.”

“He was jealous,” Tooley said, giving her own blue hair a quick flip to show it off. It would’ve been more impressive if she took better care of her hair, but it still looked good in spite of all the split ends.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’ve seen gene-edited samples before and they look nothing like this,” To Vo said. “The margin of genetic difference is way beyond a few simple clinical edits.”

“He’s a bit of an addict, you know how people get,” Kamak said.

“I’m not an addict,” Corey said. He wasn’t sure why they were lying, but everyone else was doing it, so he joined in. “I just like to look good. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I’m...what sort of gene editing were you doing that caused this kind of genetic drift, exactly?”

To Vo La Su had a keen edge to her leonine eyes that said she was on to their game, but couldn’t directly call them out. As she made her move, Kamak countered it.

“I’m sorry, doesn’t Galactic Council law prohibit anyone from having to disclose medical procedures to non-medical personnel?”

“Well, yes, that’s explicitly stated in manual five, subsection eighty seven bullet point four, but-”

“Are you medical personnel, ma’am?”

“I am not,” To Vo huffed.

“Then we are not required to disclose any relevant information to you,” Kamak said. “Thank you for your concern, but we have business to attend to. Good day, officer.”

Kamak gave To Vo a mock bow, just to rub it in, and then gathered his crew to depart. Corey glanced over his shoulder at the officer and saw her heavy brows furrow. To Vo La Su prodded her datapad a few times to finalize something and then walked back to her post in a huff.

“I feel bad,” Doprel said. “She was just doing her job.”

“Her ‘job’ was to get Corey in a lab so he could poked, prodded, and psychoanalyzed,” Kamak said. “Trust me, we’ll do a better job ‘integrating him into galactic society’ than she ever would.”

“I do like your approach better,” Corey said. “You guys give me beer.”