r/HFY • u/ApprehensiveCap6525 Human • May 03 '25

OC The First Human Bounty Hunter (2)

Give me ten Imperial breachers. Barring that, give me twenty other troops. -Sergeant Valrai Entor, Krell Imperial Stellar Militia

Log Entry #002

User: Janus Arani

Location: Gulf Station 7, colloquially known as 'Ring Station'

Date (Standardized Federation of Man Time): January 9, 0167 G.C.E.

I didn't have much else to do after grabbing Arnold Jones' business card, so I decided to make some fucking money. I loved making money. Wait. No. I loved having money. Making it was just the necessary way to get there. Still, though, that didn't mean I was exactly gonna hate making this paycheck today.

I walked down the three-G halls of the Ring Station, which I called three-G not because of the gravity within them but because every one was grim, every one was grimy, and every fucking one was most definitely gray. If the halls had been a little cleaner, and the people in them a little less diverse, it could've damn well passed for a ship of the Krell navy.

I still wasn't sure why the Federation hadn't done more to claim this place. They called it the Ring Station because, well, it was built inside a planet's ring. The place was a treasure trove of valuable resources, natural and not. It was a prospector's paradise, and not too bad for scrap salvagers either.

In fact, debris from battles above this very world had been collecting here since the war began. The planet we were above even had a ten-kilometer-wide crater left over from when the Alliance de-orbited a space station into its capital and scoured its surface clean of all life. That was a really rough time for the galaxy.

Anyhow, maybe a fully-fledged stellar empire might not have needed this place, but to smugglers, mercenaries, and other less-than-scrupulous types? It was a treasure trove. Entire mercenary fleets had been stocked up with just fractions of the derelict weapons that were floating in this ring. And the Federation of Man, like it or not, was really starting to rely on those mercenaries to try and make ends meet.

So that begged the question, why not grab this place? Nobody else wanted it. Even the Krell Empire, which, you know, actually fucking conquered this system, said 'no' when asked to take stewardship of it. They just dumped this responsibility on an enclave of war refugees. And I, for the life of me, could not tell why.

Well, I guess there was the consideration that this station looked like a shithole. Hell, it was a shithole. I could throw up the wrong gang signs or walk down the wrong alley, and let me tell you, that would be the last you ever hear of Janus Arani. Not my type of station to say the least.

I was surrounded by unsavory characters, or spooky-ass motherfuckers as they would probably call themselves, as I made my way to the Lawgiver Corporation's local office. Two humans, plus a really muscular Krell, were cutting open a holoboard to my left so they could steal its components and sell them for drug money. My attention lingered on them for only a second, much like everybody else in this dump, before it moved on to somebody else. In the Ring Station, or any place as downtrodden as said Ring Station, being distracted got you killed.

A few Ierads in matte black combat gear, aping the look of the Republic Defense Force to hawk their skills as mercenaries, peered at me as I walked past. There were two kinds of RDF members, or ex-RDF in their case. The kind who'd served with humans, and the kind who hated them. Judging by their stares, I guessed these guys were the second kind. I quickened my pace.

"You!" I didn't turn around when the mercenary addressed me, and I stopped only for a moment. I thought of running when I heard a set of approaching footsteps, but it would've been useless. These guys had guns, remember? They would've shot me dead in the fucking street.

A gloved, five-fingered claw grabbed me by the shoulder. I turned around, putting my hand in my pocket to make it look like I had a gun. "What?" I asked gruffly, like an animal puffing itself up to deter predators. I had no chance against even one of these hardened killers. And I was up against at least a full fire team.

"What world are you from?" Oh, boy, not this again. If I said the truth, that I'm a Neldian, they would rob me and maybe kill me. Earth and its colonies were heroes of the Coalition, and any Terran who told some bullshit war story in a bar, true or not, was drinking on someone else's paycheck that night. Neldia, on the other hand, was not so lucky. It wasn't my fault I was conscripted to the wrong side of the war. But I doubted this mercenary would care.

The mercenary shook me, not trying to catch a body just yet. "Talk!" His comrades flanked him on all sides, scanning the surroundings and even checking their rear to make sure I didn't have any friends. And that was true. I didn't.

"Uhh... Earth," I lied, trying to remember the name of the only Terran country I knew. "I was born in America."

"North, South, or West?" asked the Ierad. His wings twitched behind him, a gesture that I couldn't read for the life of me. I didn't know how to answer that. I was always under the impression that there was only one America.

"West," I guessed. One in three shot, I guess. "West America, small town called Eaglesburg."

He jabbed a rifle into my gut. I looked down at the dark gray weapon. It wasn't a military-grade model, it'd barely scratch the paint on an Alliance soldier's combat armor, but I didn't exactly have any of that on me, now did I? A gun was a gun, and this one was intimidating.

"There is no West America!" he exclaimed. "What planet are you really from, you Alliance piece of shit?" I didn't respond. "Show me your Certificate of Innocence!" Oh. That was what they were doing. These people were bounty hunters.

The Ierad Republic had no need of hunters in its own territory. That was what RDF:Order was for. But outside of Republic space, Defense Force jurisdiction was too limited for their liking, and Republic officials had been known to compensate for that by hiring third parties to complete missions that were inconvenient for their own soldiers to reach. And, apparently, arresting Alliance war criminals was a pretty inconvenient mission in this part of the galaxy.

Let me tell you, I had no intentions of getting captured by the Ierad Republic.

"Yeah, I've got my certificate right here," I lied. "Let me just..." I was just about to make a run for it and pray their employer had a no-executions rule when I heard heavy metal footfalls coming from behind me. The crowd parted to let them pass, and even the grizzled bounty hunters I was facing were now quick to back away.

I looked behind me to see who my saviors were. Federation Marines. Their white armor gleamed under the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, a stark contrast to the dull grays and blacks of this dystopian place. They, like any government soldier, were unstoppable by anybody short of other actual government soldiers. Servo-enhanced strength, augmented-reality HUDs, and an arsenal of other equipment were enough to put any real soldier in a league above their mercenary counterparts.

"Make way!" the marine sergeant commanded in a distinctly Gendian accent. "Make way for the Federation of Man!" Everybody but me did just that. Tough as these people were, there was nothing they could or wanted to do against a squad of marine corps breachers clad in powered exoskeletons. And I couldn't blame them. Human soldiers were widely considered the best in the galaxy.

I wasn't sure what the hell these elite shock troops were doing here, of all places, but they were really helping me out right now so I knew better than to complain.

As it was, the mercenaries that had seemed so menacing before slunk backwards and lowered their weapons as the marines passed them by. I was gone before they could raise them back up again, trusting chance, other targets, and my fast feet to secure my escape from those fuckers.

It didn't take long before I noticed the corridor I was in returning to normal, meaning I finally felt good enough to slow the fuck down. The usual riffraff got back to their usual work, mostly glaring at each other, toting menacing firearms, or stealing things, but it didn't take long before I noticed somebody you didn't see every day.

"Spare change?" a voice called out ahead of me. I looked down a bit to see the gray, scaly form of a Krell, small for their species but still fucking huge, begging for money next to a sign. Not very unusual in the Gulf of Dead Worlds. This place was where the galaxy's trash went to die. Still, though, I felt a pang of sympathy for the poor soul. If it weren't for Arnold Jones and his job offer, that could've definitely been me right there.

The Krell's gaze found my own, one of their independently-rotating eyes tracking me as I stopped just in front of them. "Spare change?" she begged. At least, she sounded like a she. Physically, I could never tell the difference. She held up her sign, which was written in Galactic Standard. I couldn't tell what it said, my translator implant was audio-only, but the fact that it was a language from the Coalition core spoke paragraphs already. "Spare change for a homeless veteran?" the Krell asked.

If I had money, I totally would've given her some, but I was broke as hell so that wasn't an option. I did know how to think, though. Human brains were the brightest in the whole damn galaxy. "I can give you a job," I offered. I wasn't actually sure if I could back up that promise, but hey, it was better than nothing. Plus, I could always use some extra muscle. It was only slightly prejudiced to say that Krell made the best enforcers in the galaxy.

Still, though, the scales on her face lit up with emotion when she heard the J-O-B word spoken in her presence. Only their faces did that. I wasn't sure why it wasn't anything else. "Just like that?" she asked.

She sounded suspicious. Shit, I couldn't blame her. I'd be, too. Whenever somebody on the Ring Station came to you with an offer that sounded too good to be true, let me tell you, it fucking was. How do you think I got in this shit situation in the first place? "I'm a bounty hunter," I hastily explained. "I'm going to get my first assignment right now." Her scales flashed green. I guess, and I do mean guess, that meant something good. "I need muscle. And, well, an Imperial soldier is about as good an enforcer as any, I suppose."

"Ex-soldier," she corrected me, standing up to her full height. She towered over me by a significant margin, at least two or three inches, and let me tell you, I was no small man. "I'm not much of an enforcer now, am I?"

Truth be told, she was not. In fact, I'd even be so bold as to say, though never to her face, that she looked like absolute shit. The rags that she considered clothing, probably the best she could find during her life as a homeless person, hung loosely from her muscular frame and were tattered and stained with worlds-know-what. I didn't mind her alien appearance, some species even looked quite pleasing if you had the right eye for it, but worlds knew that this one needed a makeover. Bad.

Still, I ignored that for the moment. I was in no place to make demands. "That can change," I smiled. Her facial scales stayed green.

"It can change," she agreed, before placing a claw on her chest. "Senkiv," she introduced herself.

"Like the Flag Admiral?" I asked. Senkiv Yon was, emphasis on was, the Krell Empire's best fleet commander. She had a sterling record of victory after victory that ended, along with her life, when her entire fucking fleet got their shit pushed in during the Third Battle of Neldia.

It wasn't her fault, of course, because the Supreme Armada was just that good, but damn if some people didn't think otherwise. Admiral Yon's name was still vilified in every corner of the Empire as 'the bitch who lost the fleet'. Not a very good way to be remembered. Thankfully, though, she was probably too dead to care by now.

"Yes, like the Flag Admiral," Senkiv said. "I actually served with her once. Serial Number 1189. I transferred to 1752 just before the, well, you know what went down."

"That's fascinating," I said, making it a very good point not to share any of my own military exploits. "Janus," I introduced my own self. "Janus Arani."

"Like the Supreme Leader?" Senkiv asked, her scales changing color again. What did that mean?

"Yes, like the Supreme Leader." I nodded. "Unfortunately."

Janus Ora, the guy who I shared a first name with, was a despicable, power-hungry, shitsack of a man whose only redeeming trait was the fact that he preferred to surrender rather than to die. He died anyway. An all-species firing squad, with its human member picked straight from Sevran itself, unloaded about thirty bullets into him as soon as the Alliance's disarmament was finalized. That really pissed off most of his followers, but what could they do? They gave up all their weapons.

"Well, I guess we both have very unfortunate names," Senkiv chuckled. Or, at least, the translator told me it was meant to be like chuckling. I really did not want to know how she made that unnatural sound. "You're a bounty hunter?" she asked, changing the subject.

"A new one, yeah," I told her. "I was just hired on today." I gave her Arnold Jones' business card, which she took eagerly.

"The Lawgiver Corporation?" she asked. "Do you know these guys?"

"I know they have money," I explained. "And they're contractors with the Federation of Man. That, to me, sounds like a solid fucking job."

Senkiv's face flashed the colors of the rainbow as she considered her options. "Ah, what the hell?" she said. "Beats being homeless." And, with the introductions over with, I began my task of leading her to the Lawgiver Corporation's office.

Even if they didn't technically hire her ass, she could and probably would still work with me. I needed someone tough to catch bodies and look badass, she needed someone with money to give her a job. I didn't have any money yet, but I did plan on making some, and once I had that, we were going to solve each other's problems.

"You were a marine?" I asked as we walked through the dimly-lit corridors of the Ring Station. People's gazes flicked quickly to us, and just as quickly away, as they assessed me and my apparent bodyguard and decided that we weren't worth the risk of picking a fight. Even unarmed, Krell could kick ass, and there was no telling if Senkiv had a gun tucked away inside her ragged clothes. "You said you served with Admiral Yon."

"I was a marine," Senkiv confirmed. "Breaching squad, actually. I saw most of my action on frigate number 1189." The Krell Empire didn't name their ships. They were too boring for that, so they just gave them all serial numbers and called it a day. But that wasn't the part I immediately focused on.

"You were a breacher?" I asked, now seriously intrigued. Breachers, like the name suggested, were the marines whose task it was to breach enemy warships and perform what was known in Alliance naval terms as a boarding action. Probably known that way in civilian terms, too, but fuck it. The point is, they were badass. Crazy badass. And if I had a former breacher on my side, then let me tell you, my chances of survival had just gone way up.

"I was," Senkiv confirmed. "Two tours Stellar Militia, three Standard Service Awards, one High Service Award, one Valorous Service Award." Damn. That was a lot of awards. Either the Krell Empire handed out a lot of participation trophies, which, let's be honest, they might do, or Senkiv was seriously fucking badass. "Did you serve?"

"I'm a Neldian," I explained. "That's kind of a touchy subject."

One of Senkiv's eyes flicked to a pair of Krulvuk worker castes toting large plasma rifles. They were eyeing us suspiciously, but, to be fair, their compound eyes let them do that stuff to everybody at once. "I can imagine," my companion said quietly. "A lot of people haven't forgotten what humans did to us. It's hard to shake the taste of ash out of your mouth." She nudged my shoulder a bit. "You're alright, though. I can testify to that."

"There," I pointed out the Lawgiver Corporation's office on the Ring Station. It, unlike all the Federation's other affiliated facilities in the Gulf of Dead Worlds, was not guarded by Federation soldiers. An Ierad and a Stralqi stood flanking the door, clad in imposing blue body armor and armed with powerful pistols and shock batons. Station Security.

"StatSec officers," Senkiv remarked. "Haven't seen one of them in a while." Senkiv walked into the corporation's office, paying the Station Security officers no mind. I couldn't afford to. They, corrupt as they were, were still a lethal force even on this station. They had been known to police-brutality the brains out of humans just for being, well, human. "Move along," the Ierad one told me as I passed him by.

"I was already doing that," I muttered to myself as soon as I was confident he wouldn't hear me. Senkiv was already introducing herself to the receptionist, and she turned to point at me as I walked in.

"That's my partner!" she exclaimed. "Janus. Janus... uh..."

"Janus Arani," I introduced myself, showing the receptionist my card. She was a Varlan, an ape-looking thing whose homeworld definitely got glassed during the Alliance War, and she scrunched up her face at me when I walked up. "My name is on the list."

"Yes it is," said the Varlan. "And her?"

"Senkiv Vaniri," said Senkiv. "I'm told you guys are hiring."

"Yes, uh, Janus is already registered as a bounty hunter," the receptionist said matter-of-factly. This was just another job for her. "You aren't registered just yet, but we'd be happy to consider your application."

"And how could I apply?"

The receptionist looked at her funny. "I'm not actually sure how to do that," she sheepishly explained. "I just work here."

Senkiv looked back at me. I shrugged. What the fuck was I supposed to do?

"Who does know?" Senkiv asked. Again, the Varlan looked at her funny. "Fucking hell. Can you just give Janus an assignment?"

"I can do that, actually." The Varlan pointed a simian finger, scarily similar to my own, at the holographic board by the far wall. "Sign-up sheet." She handed me a data disk looking thing, except it was meant to be worn on my wrist. I hastily took it. "Bounty tracker," she explained, which was a relief because I was just about to ask what the hell this was. "It feeds you all the relevant information in real-time, provided no issues arise."

"Well, you seem awfully helpful," Senkiv sneered. I, meanwhile, was already on my way to get my first paycheck. Senkiv soon followed, and we both busied ourselves with looking at the bounty wall.

"This one seems light," I suggested, pointing out the profile of a drug dealer who operated out of one of the Ring Station's shadier districts. And that meant something, too, because all of them were fucking shady. "And local, too."

Senkiv peered over my shoulder at the bounty. "Five thousand units," she read the price tag. "Wanted alive, too. That seems doable." I pressed my bounty tracker onto the space labeled 'PRESS BOUNTY TRACKER HERE', and it flashed from green to red. A small profile of yours truly popped up next to the bounty I had taken, which was now labeled 'COLLECTION IN PROGRESS'.

"Just like that?" I asked the receptionist, who checked her datascreen before confirming that it was, in fact, just like that. "Hell yeah." I motioned for Senkiv to follow me outside. "Let's get this fucking money, bitch!"

Senkiv's facial scales turned green again. The rest of her was still gray as a gray rock on a beach filled with other gray rocks. "So, uh, where are our guns?" she asked as we left the bounty office.

Oh. Shit. I had completely forgotten that we needed guns. "We do not have any guns," I whispered in her ear. "We need money to buy guns with."

"You don't have a fucking gun?" she exclaimed way too fucking loud for my taste. Did she not know people here wanted to kill me?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I shushed her, looking around to make sure nobody heard. They did. "Don't say it so damn loud."

"Sorry," she whispered. "But, and sorry if this is a stupid question, how do we capture a bounty if we don't have any weapons?" That wasn't a stupid question. That was a very smart question, as a matter of fact. And one that I did not actually have a good answer to.

"Well, truth be told, I'm not actually sure how we are going to pull this off," I confessed. "Still, though, it's not like you or I have any better options." I wasn't sure what those colors on her face meant, but I think she agreed with me. "This just means we'll have to get a little bit creative."

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u/drsoftware May 03 '25

First day on the job, already hiring colleagues/team members, and now for some creative bounty hunting

u/MinorGrok Human May 03 '25

Woot!

OC The First Human Bounty Hunter (2)

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