“Jesus, this place is fucking ugly,” Corey said.

Even the rusted underbelly of Centerpoint’s dirtiest districts hadn’t been quite so upsetting as the soulless monotony he saw now. Every building in sight was an identical duplicate of every other building. Business were only differentiated from homes by the signs above the door. It was a suburban nightmare turned up to eleven.

“It’s a corpo-colony,” Kamak said. “They mass produce these things, drop them planetside, fill them up with their employees. Quick and easy way to settle a planet.”

“They do that often?”

“Pretty much every time they find a new habitable planet,” Kamak said. “I grew up in a colony like this. Little rustier by the time I was born. And mine was Timeka brand, of course.”

While Kamak had been born and raised under the banner of Timeka, this colony was owned by one of their foremost competitors, the Handac Mining Collective. Apparently their target was relying on that corporate rivalry to give him an extra layer of protection. That, or he’d actually been on a privateer contract for Handac, and not just attacking Timeka ships randomly. Kamak didn’t know and he didn’t care. Timeka wanted the pirate dead, so he would die.

“Farsus, Doprel, you two take the roads, keep an eye on things in and out of town,” Kamak said. “Corvash, you’re with me.”

“Right. What’s the first move?”

Kamak pointed at one of the nearby cube-shaped buildings. There was a crudely made sign above the door that said “Kog-Oqua’s General Goods”.

“We’re getting snacks.”

“Snacks?”

“When people make a pit stop on a long stellar trip, they go to the bathroom and get snacks,” Kamak said. “We need to be inconspicuous. Also I want snacks. Come on.”

----------------------------------------

“I don’t know how the fuck you eat those things,” Kamak said. He’d had to scoot over just to avoid the smell of Corey’s chosen snacks.

“Different tastebuds, I guess,” Corey said, as he popped another one of the dried seeds into his mouth. They were apparently the leftover seeds of a fruit used in some kind of mass-produced nutrient slurry, packaged and sold so the manufacturers could extract as much profit as possible from their product. Most species regarded them as distasteful but cheap snacks, with Kamak specifically referring to them as “poverty poppers”, but Corey thought they were delicious. They tasted like a dried fruit and salted nut rolled into one.

“Maybe that’s the reason the Council ignored you humans,” Kamak said. “Shit taste.”

“Or they were afraid we’d fuck up the snack economy,” Corey said, as he ate another of his “poverty poppers”. Kamak gave a single snort of laughter and then turned his attention back to the horizon.

The pirate who had attacked the Timeka shipment had retired to a comfortable lakeside cabin farm removed from the corpo-colony. A nearby copse of plant life provided good cover for Corey, Kamak, and two sniper rifles. Kamak was a firm believer in redundancy when it came to murder implements.

Corey checked his scope, and saw nothing. As usual. A quick check with Farsus, who was situated further down the road, proved he’d seen nothing either.

“This dude sure takes his sweet time doing errands,” Corey said.

“Maybe he’s at an edgeball game. Meeting old friends, taking about the good old days of hijacking ships and murdering innocent people.”

“Cracking open a shiiv and talking about cracking open a skull.”

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After waiting a few seconds, Corey realized that Kamak was not going to continue the gag and went back to focusing on the cabin.

“I wonder if we’d have actually found the guy by now with a regular search,” Corey wondered aloud.

“Too conspicuous. Town’s too small, and this guy’s been retired too little time, for some strangers poking around to not be suspicious,” Kamak said. “This guy hasn’t been hiding long. He’s going to be jumpy.”

“Okay, I get it. You got any tricks to get mud out of boots, though?”

To avoid suspicion, they’d gone the long way around. The very long way.

“We got cleaning supplies. And take your fucking boots off. Get your feet dry. Universal vaccine won’t keep you from getting foot fungus.”

Corey cringed and reached down to unstrap his boots. He’d made it through one boot when Kamak bonked him on the head and pointed upwards.

“Boots on, incoming,” Kamak snapped. Corey cursed under his breath and shoved his boot back on. By the time he got back to his rifle’s scope, their presumed target was clearly in view. A small vehicle was drifting down the road to the isolated cabin. Corey held his breath, stayed still, and waited for the vehicle to get closer. Two things became clear within moments; first, that this was definitely their target, and second, that he was not alone.

“Shit. Two of them.”

“We got two guns,” Kamak said. “If it looks like trouble, I’ll get the pirate, you get his buddy.”

After a moment of adjustment, Corey’s rifle focused more clearly on the additional target. The tightened view of the scope revealed nothing good.

“Shit. Kamak, look at the other guy. Is that just a very small person, or…?”

Kamak refocused his own scope to look at the passenger. While some alien species came pint-sized, this was not one of them. He was the same species as their pirate target, just smaller. But otherwise very similar in appearance. Too similar, even.

“Haha, nope,” Kamak said. “That’s definitely a kid. Probably his kid, too.”

“Well fuck,” Corey said. “What do we do?”

“The fuck do you mean? We shoot the guy and get our bounty.”

“You want to shoot the guy?”

“It’s the whole reason we’re here,” Kamak said.

“In front of his kid?”

“We can wait until the kids back is turned if that makes you feel better.”

“This feels fucked up, Kamak,” Corey said. It was hard for him to estimate how any alien species aged, but that child couldn’t be more than twelve, maybe thirteen years old. Not that there was any level of maturity that made it okay to watch one’s father get shot.

“Ah, you sound like Doprel,” Kamak said. “Think about it. You think the murderous ex-pirate is winning any father of the year awards? We’re probably doing the kid a favor, long term.”

“I feel like there’s a better way to do this,” Corey said. The vehicle was getting close to the cabin now, and gradually drifting to a stop. “We can knock on the door, take him for a ‘walk’, or something.”

“Better parents have died for worse reasons,” Kamak mumbled.

As the pirate’s vehicle rolled to a halt, the pirate himself stepped out, stretched his legs, and turned to look at the lake, enjoying his ill-gotten view. Kamak took another look through his scope, centered on the pirate’s chest, and sighed. Dozens of people had died so that this pirate could enjoy the view. And Corey wanted to use the kid gloves.

“Alright, Corey, look at me real quick,” Kamak said.

Corey did so, giving the bounty hunter his full attention. Kamak locked eyes with Corey, unblinking, and pulled the trigger. Corey hadn’t even finished gasping when the plasma-charged pellet of metal ripped a hole dead center through the pirate’s chest. He was still playing catch-up with the gasp while Kamak stepped out of his hiding place and started walking towards the pirate’s smoking corpse to acquire proof of termination.

As Corey, and literally anyone else, might have guessed, the kid did not take it well. Kamak stepping out of cover just gave the young man something to focus that reactive energy on. Corey couldn’t make out what was said in the incoherent screaming, but he knew a punch when he saw one. Or half a punch, anyway. Kamak caught the amateurish blow easily, and threw the kid aside with practiced force, then said something Corey couldn’t hear and put a hand on his pistol. Whether because of the unheard warning, or just because of the gun, the kid stayed put while Kamak took a DNA sample and a photo of the corpse. Corey tried not to watch. The kid was starting to cry.

“Come on, Corey,” Kamak said. “We got better things to do.”

Corey forced himself to turn around, and to not look over his shoulder as they walked away, but some parts of his curiosity could not be contained.

“What’d you say to the kid?”

“Told him how many people his dad killed,” Kamak said. “Don’t know if you read the case file, but it’s a lot.”

“I don’t think that’s going to make it any better.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Kamak said. Then he turned slightly, leading them on a different path back to the Hard Luck Hermit. Hopefully this new path would be drier. Kamak didn’t want Corey’s boots getting soaked all over again.