Corey fired his gun straight down into the hollow space below, but Wagam had already fled his hiding space. The gunshot would warn Doprel about the situation, at least. Corey shouldered the gun again and looked around. He had no idea where or when Wagam might emerge from the hidden cavern. He hadn’t seen any entrances on his way up, and he desperately scanned the environment to try and find the detail he’d missed. If there was anything to see, he didn’t see it in time.

After emerging from his hiding place behind Corey’s back, Wagam aimed the pistol he’d been clutching, and fired. The blast of plasma hit Corey square between the shoulderblades, and made him very glad he’d invested in good body armor. The intense bolt of energy got diffused into nothing more than a dull thud on his back, but perched as he was on a rocky slope, even that dull thud was a dangerous blow. His foot slipped on the slick rocks below him, and he barely caught his footing before tumbling down the hillside. His attempt to get his footing was another bit of wasted effort, as he was struck from behind once again, this time by Wagam himself.

The convict tackled Corey and knocked the gun out of his hands before dragging him down the hillside. For a brief second, Corey felt the heated barrel of a pistol sizzle against his temple. Wagam was trying to take him hostage. Maybe he thought Corey would be his ticket off world. Corey didn’t intend to be any fugitive’s ride home.

Corey braced his legs and pushed backwards, knocking himself and Wagam both off the ledge. The alien convict grabbed on tight, but he still hit the ground first. A torrent of harsh grunts and alien cursing rang out as Corey and Wagam both bounced down the hillside. At some point, Wagam lost his grip on his pistol, and when the two reached the bottom of the hill, both were unarmed, but neither was unwilling to fight.

Wagam landed the first punch, but Corey landed the better one. This time when he punched an alien in the gut, it worked, and Wagam doubled over in pain. He followed up with a punch to the temple, and Wagam hit the ground hard. While the fugitive laid on the ground, he grabbed Corey’s ankle and swept it out from under him.

“Stop fucking fighting,” Wagam rumbled. His voice was low and harsh, filled with the grating hoarseness of someone who hadn’t had a decent nights sleep in days. Corey didn’t even dignify his request with a response. Not a verbal one, at least. Some people might count a kick to the groin as a response. Wagam collapsed again, this time falling right on top of Corey.

The adrenaline kept the alien convict coherent through the pain, and Wagam had barely hit the ground before he had his hands on Corey’s throat. In spite of days spent in poor conditions, he still had an overpowering strength that was readily apparent in the crushing tightness of his grip. Corey grunted and strained against the choking grasp, but could not break it. Not on his own, at least.

Corey stopped struggling and started grasping at his heel. Wagam had him pinned, but Corey still managed to contort himself just enough to reach the knife in his boot.

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The blade he’d “borrowed” from Tooley’s would-be killer slipped out of Corey’s boot and slipped right into Wagam’s rib. Bare purple skin tore open to reveal dark red blood and muscle beneath. Wagam let out a howl of pain that only redoubled when Corey withdrew the knife and plunged it into the crook of his elbow. With his tendons severed, Wagam’s grip on Corey’s neck loosened, and Corey slipped free. He got to his feet, still clutching the knife, as Wagam bent over, clutching the wound in his ribs with his only good arm.

“Don’t do this,” Wagam mumbled through a mouthful of blood. “I know people. I can pay you…”

Though he had no intention of accepting the offer, Corey paused anyway.

“Tell you what,” he grunted, as his grip on the knife tightened. “You just try and fucking make me an offer. Tell me how much money you think it’ll take to get me to forgive you killing kids.”

Wagam was malnourished, and now suffering from severe blood loss, but even his lightheaded state he knew there was no right answer to that question.

“You want to make me beg? Go fuck yourself,” he spat. “You want to kill me, just kill me.”

“Oh, I don’t want to kill you,” Corey said. “I’d rather see how he does it.”

Corey nodded behind Wagam, and the convict turned to look over his shoulder just in time to see Doprel’s foot bearing down on him like a meteor.

Half a second later, Doprel made a “blech” noise and then stuck his foot in a puddle to wipe the remnants of Wagam’s torso off his heel. The fine red paste that had once been a person mixed into the brackish water to form a muddled gray slime.

“Should probably vaporize that before we leave,” Corey suggested. “Don’t want all life on this planet descended from that fucker’s DNA.”

“Later. Are you alright?”

“Don’t think anything’s broken,” Corey grunted. “Bruised, probably. Nope. Definitely bruised.”

“Take a seat, but don’t lie down, and let me know if you start to feel lightheaded,” Doprel said. “You guys can get head trauma surprisingly easily. I’ll call the ship.”

Corey gladly took a seat and rested sore muscles while Doprel called their ride. The Hard Luck Hermit came surging into view moments later, making a beeline for the site of the battle. As the boarding ramp descended, Kamak hopped off of it, took one glance at what was left of Wagam, and then turned his attention to Corey.

“You intact, Corvash?”

“Little scuffed, but I got all my parts in the right place,” Corey said. Once assured his employee was in one piece, Kamak turned his attention to finishing the job. While he scanned Wagam’s corpse and forwarded the info to their client, Farsus stepped up and took out the medical kit.

“Hold still,” Farsus commanded, as he withdrew something that had a very sharp point to it. “Hopefully this will hurt you.”

“Hopefully?”

“If it did not hurt, it would mean you are suffering nerve damage,” Farsus said. He jammed the sharp needle in Corey’s arm and took a quick sample of something inside him. Thankfully, it hurt. “You appear to be unharmed beyond your cosmetic injuries. I will take you aboard the ship for bed rest.”

“Yeah, just give me a hand-”

Before Corey had time to finish his request for help, Farsus grabbed Corey and hefted him bodily off the ground, bridal-style, before carrying him up the ramp and into his room. Corey considered protesting, but Farsus turned out to have surprisingly comfortable arms.