Time is relative, to each star system and each cosmic body. I say this to illustrate the fact that the following description is a very frequent occurrence. 

A dusty sunset falls on the small planet Era. Calling it a planet is a grandiose generosity by 21st century human standards. In truth, it’s a large asteroid. If one wanted to see another sunrise or sunset there, one could walk to meet one. The rock is just big enough to hold an atmosphere, aided by the several machines that make it possible. 

The ‘planet’ Era houses a handful of businesses as it’s in an asteroid belt between two major galaxies. In its heyday, it was one of a few places to get supplies and a rest stop for intergalactic travelers. That is until the Omni Corporation manufactured a wormhole, significantly reducing travel time and the need to pick up more supplies. Thus, the ‘planet’ Era has seen better and busier days. Some businesses there have resorted to more salacious practices to entice what patronage they can get. 

But I’m rambling and must get the story truly started. 

On this dusty sunset comes a solitary starship. It has also seen better days, there are visible blast marks from railguns and plasma rounds all over it. Telltale signs this is a fighter’s ship. 

The ruby-red paint and pink sapphire trim are faded, likely from too many re-entries through atmospheres without a heat shield. Or maybe flying too close to stars for too long. The callsign “Orion’s Dancer” is hardly legible on the side. 

As it lands, it creaks and groans. Everyone on the ‘planet’ is alerted to the potential new business. No one has landed there in quite some time. The proprietors all go to their windows to see who all will emerge from the ship. 

The loading ramp comes down, the hydraulics scream out in need of oil.

Much to their collective dismay, only one person exits the ship. A human woman in a long leather duster, who has a deterministic air about her. 

Humans are notorious for their constant need to eat and sleep. Good for business. 

The proprietors scramble from the windows and try not to look desperate for business. 

The human takes a piece of paper out from her pocket, examines it, and looks around. She finds what she’s looking for and makes her way over. 

She walks past the general store and the only restaurant, the human bypasses all that for the inn, which nowadays is more of a brothel.

Humans are notorious for that sort of thing too. 

She enters through the batwing doors, taking her weathered hat off out of respect. Her curly brown afro is pulled into a ponytail. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she says to the owner. Behind the counter is an Imlagdor, a spindly being with phosphorus white skin. Her cobalt blue eyes look at the potential business. 

“How can I help you, sweetie?” She asks. The human starts fiddling with the brim of her hat. 

“I’d like to speak with one of your employees, please. In private, if possible.”

“Well sure honey, we do privacy here.” The Imlagdor holds down a button for an intercom. “Dolls, we have a client here, she’s shy.” 

Moments later, a handful of beings come downstairs. They are from various species and offer a wide range of physicalities. 

The human consults the paper from her pocket again and makes her decision. 

“Her,” the human points to a being in the back. All eyes turn to who she picked and some eyebrows are raised. 

“Okay honey, enjoy your time.”

The human walks up the stairs, following her chosen companion. The duo goes to her room. Upon entering, the human looks around the room, it’s decorated in such a way that it looks luxurious. While the human inspects the room, the woman she followed starts undressing. 

“So, how do you wanna start?” she asks the customer. When the human notices her state of dress she quickly moves her hat to block her face.

“OH! I’M SORRY! I didn’t mean to look, I was hoping to talk to you.” 

“Sure, we can talk.”

The human peeks from behind her hat to see she’s still undressed. The clothing is mostly for aesthetic purposes on a Nogailma, a species that has no real hesitancy towards nudity. Still, the human averts her gaze.

“Um, if it’s not too much trouble, can you put your clothes back on?”

“You’d rather take them off yourself?”

“I’d be more comfortable with you dressed, ma’am.”

“Strange foreplay, but okay,” she mutters to herself as she redresses. After a moment, the human braves another peek from behind her hat and sighs a breath of relief to see her dressed. 

Nogailmas are tetrabrachius, digitgrade beings, covered in short fine hair that shimmers iridescently in any light. She has curves and angles that are pleasing to the eyes of most sentient beings. Both pairs of her arms prop her up as she sits on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m a bounty hunter, ma’am,” the human says. 

“Well, I’ve been very naughty, but I’m sure we can…” she lies back on the bed, one of her arms beckoning the human forward “work something out.”

“OH! I ain’t here for you, ma’am. I don’t think you’re a wanted criminal,” the human replies. “I was hoping that you could give me some information on a fella I’m after.”

The Nogailma leans back up. 

“Wait, are you being serious? This isn’t some cheesy roleplay?”

“I’m entirely serious, ma’am. I could really use your help.” 

At this point, if there was any seductive energy left in the room it has surely dissipated. 

“Let’s start over,” the Nogailma says, assuming a more professional posture. “My name is-”

There’s a brief delay from the universal translator in the bounty hunter’s ear. It takes a second to put the name in sounds a human can produce. 

“Ealnem Erco” is the name she hears. 

“Nice to meet you Ealnem, ma’am,” the bounty hunter says. She reaches for a pocket inside her jacket. From it, she pulls out a holo-viewer. “I’m Zenith Gee.” Her holo-viewer displays her badge and certification as an intergalactic bounty hunter. Her ID shows her clearly not ready for the photo that was taken. Zenith gets embarrassed every time she shows it. 

“You’re the Zenith Gee?” Ealnem asks incredulously. “You’re super famous!” She stands up out of awe. 

“Oh, shucks, I ain’t nobody special,” Zenith rebuffs while rubbing her neck. 

Even here on the outskirts of civilization, folks have heard about the renowned bounty hunter. She’s said to do her work with unparalleled speed and skill and boasts a perfect record. Not one bounty she went after ever escaped, and she’s brought them all in alive. She’s a paragon of virtue in an otherwise notoriously corrupt profession. 

This is why Ealnem is surprised to see her in a brothel asking a prostitute for help.  

She looks over the famous bounty hunter. Standing at 5’11 the human is shorter than Ealnem who stands at 6’5, an average height for her species. The tawny brown skin of her face is pockmarked on her cheeks. Her eyes appear to be a golden yellow, a common result of solar shielding optics, allowing the user to quickly adjust to vastly different amounts and sources of light. What their true color is, Ealnem can’t say. 

Examining her hands she notices something. 

“You’re human, right?” She asks. 

“Indeed, ma’am.”

“I thought humans only have five digits?”

The rough, callused hands of Zenith Gee indeed have an extra finger. Between what should be her middle and ring finger. It’s fully grown and developed. 

“Oh, this is common where I’m from. Ya ever heard of the Founder’s Effect? Some of the humans who originally settled on my home moon had six fingers, so now here I am.”

“You’re not from Earth?” Ealnem asks.

“No, ma’am. Never been, never seen it. I’m from the moon PortStorm. But I came to ask you a few things if that’s all right?” 

“Uhhh, sure.” Ealnem sits back down. Zenith looks around for a chair, fiddling with the brim of her hat all the while. She finds a seat, pulls it opposite Ealnem, and begins her questions. 

“So the fella I’m after goes by the name Lex the Trident. Last anyone heard of him, he was going to the Segue-2 galaxy. He wouldn’t use the wormhole those Omni folks put out there, so he’d have to stop here for resupply and such.” 

Zenith takes out her holo-viewer and shows a picture of her bounty. The man in question is an Ardenlev. A species from the same planet as Ealnem. In the picture, he’s seen running away from a building, covered in the blood of various beings. 

His species is also digitigrade but has only two arms. Porous, obsidian black skin and two large eyes, there is a universally mean look on his face. 

“Yeah, I saw him here…” Ealnem tries to find a unit of time that could apply, but the days and nights are short on Era. And with Zenith coming in from whatever cosmic body she was on, it wouldn’t matter anyway. “A while ago,” she finally says. 

 Under Lex’s picture is a caption that states a reward of sixty thousand credits for his corpse. Eighty thousand for bringing him in alive. 

Ealnem whistles at the price on his head. 

“That’s more money than this place has seen in quite some time. No one’s gone after him yet?”

“Some have,” Zenith answers. “He killed six other bounty hunters. And he’s responsible for the deaths of thirty other beings, that we know of at least.” She puts the holo-viewer away. “He’s set in a bad way. He oughta be stopped ‘fore he hurts more folks. And I reckon I’m in a position to help.”

Ealnem can’t help but notice the firmness in her voice as she says that. The nervous woman hiding behind her hat only a short while ago now talks about going after a dangerous criminal with no fear. 

“So why did you ask for lil’ ol’ me?” Ealnem asks. 

“Well ma’am, I checked the worker list and you’re the only one still working here that was around when he came here. ‘Sides your boss.”

It’s true, Ealnem thought to herself. A lot of the dolls that work here stay briefly before moving on to better and brighter pastures. In all honesty, she isn’t sure why she’s been here as long as it’s been. 

“Plus,” Zenith adds “you’re real pretty, I figured he’d make use of the” she clears her throat “services you provide.” 

The firm bounty hunter from a moment ago is gone and the nervous blushing woman returns. 

“Well, thanks for thinking so, sugar. But he and I wouldn’t get along well. What with us being biologically opposed to each other.”

Nogailmas and Ardenlevs developed on the same planet and formed a predator/prey relationship with each other. Both species evolved in various ways to become the predator of the other. Though they have formed advanced societies, they still treat each other with hostility. 

“Oh, I hadn’t considered that,” Zenith says. 

“He saw another doll, but she told me he was going on about some plans he had on the planet Ratst.”

“Planet Ratst,” Zenith repeats. She writes that down on paper. 

Old fashioned, Ealnem thought. 

“That’s a good place to start. Thank ya, ma’am. I’ll be sure to put in a good word with your boss. Farewell,” Zenith says. The bounty hunter stands up and puts her hat on. Ealnem isn’t sure what compels her to speak up. 

“Wait a sec,” she calls. Zenith lingers at the door. 

“That Lex fella, he’s an Ardenlev; his species has a few tricks up their sleeves. It’s probably how he killed those bounty hunters,” Ealnem warns. “How do you plan on dealing with that?”

Zenith looks at the wall for a bit before answering,

“I hadn’t. Didn’t even know about it.”

“If you’re hunting an Ardenlev, you should bring a Nogailma with you,” Ealnem points out.

“Are...are ya offering to help me, ma’am?” Zenith asks.

“Unless you know another Nogailma?”

“I don’t, it’s just...most folks, they don’t offer to help me,” the bounty hunter explains. She hangs her head as if it’s a personal failing of hers. “It’ll be dangerous ma’am. I can’t rightly ask ya to come with me.”

“You ain’t askin’, I’m offering. You said so yourself, this is a bad fella, he might hurt more folks. I should help out if I can, right?”

“I said he’s in a bad way, but if you’re offering to help then I can’t think of a reason to refuse ma’am.”

“Drop the ‘ma’am’ stuff. I’m Ealnem to you.” She offers one of her hands to the bounty hunter.

“E-Ealnem, thanks.” Zenith shakes her hand, accepting the offer. “I’ll try to keep you safe, okay?”

“Likewise, Zenith.” Another bit of blush rushes to the human’s cheeks. She clears her throat.

“I’ll go explain the situation to your boss. You should gather your things,” the bounty hunter says. With that, she leaves the Nogailma to her room. 

Ealnem looks around her abode. When she first came here however long ago, she didn’t think it was much. But it was hers. Now, it still ain’t much. She never planned on staying as long as she did, but she never did venture out again. 

Hitching a ride with a bounty hunter after a dangerous criminal probably isn’t the best way to get out of here, Ealnem thought to herself. But she pushes that thought away when she recalls how Zenith hung her head. She’ll need help, and it might as well be from Ealnem.

She quickly packs up all her things, easy work for someone with four arms. 

When she closes the door and heads downstairs, she sees Zenith holding her hat; explaining the situation. 

“I’ll be sure to compensate you for any lost patronage,” she overhears Zenith say. Her boss waves off the assurance.

“I don’t own ‘em y’know? They can leave whenever they want, they always do.” Then she notices Ealnem coming down. “Some of ‘em just take longer.” 

Zenith nods at the Imlagdor behind the desk. “Thank ya, ma’am.” 

“See ya Ealnem,” her boss says. The lack of a ‘later’ doesn’t go unnoticed. Ealnem hasn’t decided if there should be one yet.

“So long,” she just says in return.

The duo exit the brothel; one possibly stepping into a new life, the other continuing the path she chose. 

“I have to get some more supplies, and we should eat ‘fore heading out. There someplace to eat ‘round here?” The bounty hunter inquires. 

“You can send a list of things to the general store and they’ll deliver it to your ship, so let’s grab a bite.”

Pt. 1 End