The airlock door opened. Craig and Jonathan stepped through.

  It immediately felt like Jonathan had been transported to an airport terminal shopping center.

  Jonathan was legitimately shocked he didn't see a Hudson News.

  Until he did.

  Name: Hudson News

  Type: Convenience Store

  Description: Essential items for travelers who have no other choice and will pay accordingly.

  Jonathan was 80% sure this was just a translation joke, and that this wasn't actually a branch of the same company he came to know and hate. He looked inside and saw various beverages, bags of snacks, what looked eerily like candy bars, and a seemingly lobotomized single employee staring blankly into the distance as they checked out a customer.

  Okay. 60%.

  The philosophical question Jonathan was now pondering was whether, if he hadn't thought of Hudson News, it would have been named something else instead.

  "Do not distract yourself until we have done what we came here to do."

  Craig was a bit of a party pooper. He would come back.

  There was an information kiosk — a parking barrier-shaped thing with a holographic ring surrounding it reading "Info Here." Buddy added a tip: "Just walk up to it and it'll send me the layout." They did just that.

  Jonathan thought it was neat. He caught himself thinking Earth could've done the same thing if you were okay with having a million different apps, which he wasn't.

  "We need to go to 113 before doing anything else." Craig ordered.

  With a thought, Jonathan pulled up the map. Storefront #113 was marked simply as "Raider Hub." Selecting it, both an arrow and a list of directions appeared. About a 15-minute walk depending on traffic and elevator waits — so they decided to head over without the goods first.

  Jonathan couldn't help but feel nostalgic. He'd travelled a lot in his old job, and was surprised to find elevators, powered walkways, and airport terminals to be such a universal constant.

  Buddy chimed in. "Just to let you know, we're in the universe equivalent of the sticks here. Technology and approach can vary wildly at the galaxy or even system level."

  "Can I unsubscribe from wonder-killing factoids? I can only experience these things once."

  "Suit yourself, I'll just shut up then."

  Buddy was moody today, apparently.

  Jonathan knew it was in his best interest not to piss off the slug thing attached to his central nervous system. He was pretty sure Buddy couldn't actually control his thoughts — but he found himself worrying about it often enough that moderate respect seemed like the safest policy. The last thing he wanted was to find himself in a situation that could've been easily solved with knowledge that had been accidentally withheld.

  "Sorry Buddy, I didn't mean it like that. I just want some time to take it in."

  "Yeah fine whatever."

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Jonathan wondered if Buddy was genuinely hurt, or just being manipulative. He knew he didn't have time to hash that out in the middle of a space airport like some of the trashy couples he'd seen in the past.

  On the way to the depot they passed all sorts of stores — pawn shops, restaurants, and purveyors of supposedly rare and exotic goods. It was difficult to gauge the wretchedness quotient of this particular hive of scum and villainy, as they were just as likely to find somewhere to get pets as somewhere to get petted.

  There were also numerous libraries, data traders, mercenary enclaves, and much more. Each level felt like its own full-sized 90s mall — only with more gun stores.

  Or fewer, Jonathan supposed, if they were Texan malls.

  The magical moment was upon them.

  The raider hub felt fairly similar to a scene from Earth. There was a clerk's window at the end of the room, a couple of interactive screens acting like bulletin boards on either side populated by user-specific data, a few tables occupied by gruff-looking raider types who looked pissed off, and a pair of self-serve kiosks along the walls.

  Jonathan found it odd that the kiosks had a bit of a line forming while the clerk window stood open. Craig seemed to notice as well — but didn't let that dissuade him from walking straight up to the window.

  The woman behind it was likely only four feet tall, assuming she ever stood up. What stood out wasn't necessarily her facial features — which Jonathan's mind described as somewhere between "gnarled" and "regurgitated beached blobfish" — but the fact that she was fat. Exploitative-reality-show-level fat.

  She was perched on a barstool chair that made her look like a lollipop that had been dropped onto, and subsequently ripped off of, a mangy rat.

  He legitimately felt bad about his judgmental thoughts, because he knew people on earth couldn't necessarily control how they looked, so it certainly wouldn't be fair to judge an alien species he'd only just met. Maybe this was a beauty standard among her species.

  Name: Grizelda

  Species: Vexl

  Profession: Licensed Clerk, Raider Operations Hub

  Jonathan wasn't super interested in buying any additional information on this one. He did curiously flip over to the combat solutions tab just to see what Buddy had to say.

  "Feed her a single additional goddamn sandwich" was at the top.

  "What? Everybody knows Vexls are gluten intolerant."

  That didn't exactly explain the use of "additional."

  "Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you — she's obviously not intolerant of any food. And no, her species isn't all like that, she's just given up.

  In case you're wondering, A solid punch would be easiest, though it'd be suicide here."

  Jonathan's vision was spotted with highlighted panels in the ceiling, floors, and walls — presumably where additional security measures were hidden.

  "Probably good then that my first instinct wasn't to murder the first person I come across." Jonathan thought, sarcastically.

  "Hey, it's my job to make sure you're able in case you need to. Like I said, it'd be suicide — but if you had to…"

  A fully formed render of Jonathan appeared in his own vision, showing exactly how the maneuver would be most optimally performed, as well as the expected outcome — poor Grizelda getting her nose smashed in, followed immediately by unknown guns popping up to aerate and/or incinerate the Jonathan clone. The guns themselves were blurry, replaced with question marks, as if to indicate an unknown threat.

  Jonathan took a moment to process what he was looking at.

  It was too fucking awesome for him to remain annoyed.

  "Pretty slick, eh?"

  Jonathan had to agree.

  "Yeah, what the fuck do you want?"

  Grizelda decided to be an example as to why it's sometimes okay to judge books by their covers.

  "We are here to turn in our haul from Earth." Craig said evenly.

  "Wow. Another one. How the fuck are there still numbnuts running around who still haven't heard? All bounties on Earth are cancelled. The fuckers lived."

  Craig looked over to Jonathan — maybe searching for a reaction. Jonathan had already processed this potential outcome on the way over. He just smirked and shrugged.

  "Are we done here? You're holding up the line."

  Jonathan was already aware of what he'd find, but turned around to look anyway.

  Nobody else was in line.

  "Very well. Are there any new open planets anywhere nearby?"

  "No. Now piss off."

  It wasn't lost on Jonathan that this was the second alien outside of the crew that he'd met. Given that the first had actively tried to kill him, he ranked Grizelda as a close 2nd worst so far.

  He dearly hoped that there were some that weren't completely awful. Craig seemed nice and there were apparently trillions upon trillions of people out there; apparently even more humans.

  Though he didn't believe for even an instant that being human made you any better by default.

  Craig about-faced and started walking out. Jonathan followed, but stopped at the threshold of the room and turned back.

  "Can you show me a few more?" he said to Buddy.

  Jonathan proceeded to kill Grizelda a few dozen times in his mind, each more entertaining than the last.