Hard Luck Hermit

“It looked like a good gun to me,” Corey said.

“You don’t buy anything on this planet,” Tooley snapped, as they stumbled back into the ship. Somebody had tried to sell Corey a new gun, and Corey had almost bought into it. “Farsus! Farsus. You’re smart and sober. Tell Corey about why the Vogshamamama...the Vogshan- fuck. You know what I mean.”

“The Vogshanamn,” Farsus corrected. He helped an unsteady Corey and Tooley onto the couch as he explained. “A minor church of capital originating from the planet Yogskarr. To overly simplify a complex and multifaceted belief system, they believe that one must buy their position in the afterlife, and they live their entire mortal lives in pursuit of more money.”

“Fucking losers,” Corey mumbled. “Funny though. What’s the ticket price on heaven?”

“There are no specific price tags, but admission into various tiers of quality of eternal rest is based on relative wealth,” Farsus said. “Their rites very specifically say that if one dies as the wealthiest being in the universe, they are admitted to a divine sanctum with pleasures unimaginable to the mortal mind.”

“Oh yeah,” Tooley said, as recollection struck. “And they’re all super fucking pissed that nobody can get into super heaven because they’re all poorer than Morrakesh, right? Hah!”

While Tooley laughed at their broken belief system, Corey briefly contemplated the word “Morrakesh”. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He’d been bombarded with a lot of weird words and phrases recently. He added Morrakesh to the very long list of things he’d ask about eventually.

After finishing her bout of laughter, Tooley kicked the table in the center of the room to summon a bottle of Shiiv. The meat-based booze had barely made it out of the aperture before Kamak snatched it away and put it back in the table.

“Hey! I was going to drink that.”

“And now you’re not going to,” Kamak said. “Sober up ASAP. We’ve got a job.”

“There’s not even a fucking terminal here, how do we have a god damn job?”

While bounty hunters often used Paga For as an information hub and supply stop, the nature of the outpost meant it wasn’t too keen on having any permanent law enforcement presence. Even from enforcers as lax as the bounty hunters could be, as the half-drunk crew of the Hard Luck Hermit was currently demonstrating.

“It’s a personal call, not a Guild gig,” Kamak said. “Somebody wants me to take care of something for them.”

“Ooh, I didn’t know we did house calls,” Tooley said. “Is it urgent? Because I really don’t want to take a fucking pill right now.”

The same nanomachine pills that could cure a hangover could also cure drunkenness, but it was a much greater shock to the system, and only partially effective. It was more like being a quarter drunk and three-quarters electrocuted than being sober.

“It’s not urgent, but as soon as possible,” Kamak said. “This one’s important.”

“How important?”

“It’s a Timeka job.”

It was an incredibly short sentence, but Tooley still couldn’t help but scoff before Kamak had even finished.

“You did not get a personal call from Timeka,” Tooley snorted. Corey leaned over to Farsus.

“What’s Timeka?” he whispered. He’d heard the name spoken before, and seen the label on several products and billboards, but had stowed it in his “ask about later” section. The conversation had just bumped it up the list.

“Biggest mining company in the universe, produces most of the starship-grade metal,” Farsus whispered back quickly.

“I used to work for them,” Kamak said, addressing Tooley and Corey at the same time. “We have a standing professional relationship.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a long story,” Kamak said, in a way that made it very clear he would not be telling it. “The important part of the story is that they’re the reason I own this ship, so every one of you bastards who’s along for the ride owes them a favor by proxy anyway.”

“Huh. Well, this ship isn’t complete shit, so I’m in,” Tooley said. “And if they hand out ships to people like you, I should be able to score one for my own pretty easy.”

“Feel free to ask,” Kamak said with a chuckle.

“Did our old friends give any indication what type of job this was?” Doprel asked. He sounded skeptical, which was a bad sign.

“Something a bit more typical than our last job,” Kamak assured his partner. Some of their past jobs for Kamak’s old employer had been on the messy side. “Standard gig, Apall promised.”

The reassurances settled Doprel’s nerves, and he then settled his massive ass into the couch, next to a still-tipsy Corey.

“So, old bosses, huh,” Corey said. “What’s that about?”

“Not my place to say,” Doprel said. “Mostly because I wasn’t there for it. Kamak and I met later. I’ve met most of the people he used to work with, though, and they’re...well they’re not ‘nice’, but they’re trustworthy. As long as you’re on their side, they’re on your side.”

“And if you’re not on their side?”

“Well, that depends,” Doprel said. “If you’re just not on their side, they mostly ignore people. If you’re actively against them, though…”

“That’s when they call me,” Kamak said.