Earth was a dangerous place for them. They were exiled from Earth, long ago, and all the neighboring star systems. They were space gypsies, nomads, species without a home planet, ready to do anything for a paycheck. And even though that lifestyle suited them best, it was considered too marginal by the cultured society. Hence the ban. Yet, they were still here regardless.

They all turned to Zorc when he strode in, the whole rotten lot of them. But he, he was only interested in their leader.

“Acknot!” he called out, the name reverberating across the empty warehouse. As soon as Zorc spotted him, he headed straight for him. They all looked the same to him, unfortunately. Ugly, scary, wretched beasts. But he made himself memorize Acknot’s face because with the dog-faced you had no other option but to talk to the leader, with them it just wouldn’t go any other way.

As he approached them, he couldn’t help but sympathize with them, just a little bit, them being the vagrant trash of the galaxy. He was like that once too, an untouchable among his own people. But it never stopped him from turning tables around, actually going places, making something of himself eventually. So why should it stop them? Them mangollores, they could have achieved greatness too, if only they wanted it, as bad as he did, especially with his help. But they were going to have to help him help them.

Acknot lumbered forward, to the front of the line. In his hands, he was holding a shiny new gun. The label on the gun read Zorc Industries.

“I see you’re enjoying the parcel I’ve sent you,” Zorc said, wondering if the weapon he’d given him would have been better off in somebody else’s hands. “Tell me now, what happened?”

Acknot gulped first, then said with a noticeable effort, “Ship was destroyed. Mission was accomplished.”

Speaking English was torture to him, his species in general, or any other language, for that matter. The mangollores, they rarely talked, even among themselves. They mostly used growling and punching each other for communication. For their tiny little brains, human words presented a problem, just because there were so many of them.

“It’s accomplished when I say it’s accomplished, my dear horn-headed hard-featured friend,” Zorc said, emphatically, not exactly angry but in a very stringent way. “And I am saying that it’s not!”

Zorc often yelled at them while talking, yet the dog-faced still growled back at him every time. They took offense at being shouted at. Strings of spittle flew at Zorc from every direction, yet he remained calm. He’d seen worse creatures than this, a lot of them right here in Manhattan.

“Your mission was to find the stones,” he explained, in a lower voice. “Do you have the stones, Acknot?”

He was looking at him, though he already knew the answer. Acknot looked back guiltily. No!

“We destroyed pyramid. As instructed. Found no stones,” he explained.

They were unaware the stones were taken from the pyramid long before they arrived. Zorc had known. He learned it just before coming here. It was his business to know, after all. Information was the key trade in his industry.

His facial muscles twitched as he looked closely at Acknot.

“Someone…had taken… my stones,” he spelled out, composedly, and then getting irate in about 0.1 seconds, spat out at them, “And I want them back!”

“I need to find them. I need you to bring them to me. You understand? You hear me, Acknot?”

He waved his hand in front of his face, meaning to get his full attention however scarce it might have been.

“Bring the stones to me! Or else you won’t be getting full payment.”

In protest, the dog-faced barked, all they could do. It was only Acknot who remained silent.

“We do half job. We deserve half payment,” he said, trying to reason with Zorc. Though Zorc was not big on being reasoned with.

“Half the job my ass!” he spat. “Your job was to bring me the stones. You didn’t bring me the stones; you’re not getting paid! If you think I’m gonna stand here and listen to your pathetic excuses…You scum of the universe. You, worthless piece of sh…”

Insulted, the dog-faced aimed their weapons at Zorc, all at once, his own weapons. And they weren’t kidding with this, he could tell. He made them angry. Real angry. They all needed to calm down.

“It wasn’t half the job, it wasn’t even a quarter!” trying not to shout, he hissed through his greeted teeth instead. “And do you want to know why, my friend? You want to know why?”

Standing up on his toes, he reached and grabbed Acknot’s face. Obediently, Acknot let him. Acknot had big floppy ears and no brain. His big black eyes were looking down at Zorc fixedly. Zorc held his bulging face tight in his face, making sure he wouldn’t be able to look away. Though he wouldn’t even if he wanted to.

“Because you didn’t even blow up the ship right,” Zorc seethed, the words oozing out of him painfully.

And then he screamed at him, “There was a survivor!”

Acknot stared blankly at Zorc. This was news to him. Much confusion.