Just Another Job

The air was heavy with smoke, making the simple act of breathing feeling harder than it should be. This wasn't your usual bar, the patrons all seemed tougher than the next, every one of them being part of the space faring underworld. Bounty hunters, thieves, assassins, dealers, a shady bunch that even the bravest copper wouldn't dare approach. This was the Hole. A secret, but not so secret, hideout set in a large crevasse in a giant Asteroid. It was a well known destination for the less legitimate business men of the dark frontiers.

The entire space rock had been hallowed out by the man running the place: Breneck, leader of the Darvoshnian Cartel. They were an untouchable gang know to have their hands in many illegal activities throughout the galaxy. Drugs, extortion, murder, nothing was off the table for these thugs. The improvised station was know as the center of all crime. With heavy gun turret satellites orbiting the Asteroid, it seemed like an impenetrable fortress. The phase shield at the entrance port could instantly scan any ship passing through. The process was very simple, if your vessel wasn't registered as Wanted in at least five systems, you weren't going far...

And of all the crazy sons of bitches in the whole lot, there was Turgen, the chef. It was an odd title, one that definitely made heads turn around when it was mentioned, but it was also well known. The man easily stood a head over most men, his heavy frame casting an imposing figure that made most review their hostile intentions towards him. An eye-patch over his left eye, tribal tattoos covering his entire body. Some often made jokes about him looking like a Pirate, the cybernetic prosthetic leg sure as hell didn't help with those comparisons... Actually, there was even this one guy who made a robotic Parrot as a gift to him one time, Parrot-up-the-ass, or PUTA is what they called him now, his name forever lost behind the idiotic title...

Turgen was sitting at his usual table in a private quarter, a couple of drinks laid out in front of him, a giant cigar between his fingers and his still remaining foot laying on another chair he had pulled up. He was in his business talk position.

In front of him was an hologram of a slim framed man. His clothes were definitely expensive, a suit so nice Turgen wouldn't even dare to touch it with his usually greasy fingers, he also had a digital monocle on his right eye, an expensively extravagant item to be sure.

"Should have told me to dress up a bit, Hemtosh..." chuckled the outlaw as his lips came sucking on the butt of his cigar. "I would have put on a shirt with sleeves at the very least" he continued while letting out a large cloud of smoke with every pronounced syllable.

"Oh, this is fine, we all know you probably don't own a sleeved shirt... Or a clean one at that..." answered the hologram in a distorted voice.

The client's image blinked a bit, the connection was never very stable in the Hole. For all the advancements in technology humanity had made throughout the decades, it seemed a perfect wi-fi network was still a dream... Space ships: done, sub-light speed: done, self sustaining space stations: done, a reliable ultra-net connection? Still a work in progress... At least it was when you where trying to stay off the official channels.

"Now, its been a while since I heard from you, old friend, what business brings you?" asked Turgen while spinning his cigar between his fingers and taking a sip of stale ale.

"My daughter..."

"Don't tell me you're one of those weirdos who does a sweet-eighteen on top of the sweet-sixteen?" The Chef raised an eyebrow as he remembered that crazy Curdakien barbecue Hemtosh had asked for at the time, it had almost cost Turgen his second leg...

"She is getting married" further explained the hologram.

"Let me guess, your wife has a crazy idea for the main dish?" Assumed Turgen, a smile starting to form at the corner of his mouth.

Hemtosh leaned forward.

"Have you ever heard of a Porlask Crown Roast?" he asked.

"Can't say I have..." answered Turgen, scratching the stubble on his chin, intrigued.

"Well, apparently, the dish would make this wedding a real event to remember. Also, it would instantly make the groom's family understand who has the power in this... alliance."

"Starting with the fact that I have no idea what I'm up against here, I'll need half my usual fee in advance, with a full payment once the job's done and hourly wage at the wedding itself." Demanded the outlaw, puffing at his cigar here and there.

"All right, I'll forward the credits to the usual account" affirmed Hemtosh with a clap of the hands.

Turgen brought up his wrist, dressed with a gauntlet with a touch sensitive screen on it. With the fingers of his other hand, he tapped away at the gadget.

"Frequency 0,4,5,86,Delta, room is secured with comms scrambled" he confirmed.

Hemtosh's reflection in the hologram turned its face slightly to the right, clearly looking at someone else outside the scanner's visual feed and nodded. Instantly, the screen on Turgen's forearm lit up with a notification, confirming the monetary income reception into one of his accounts. A wide smile came to the chef's expression.

"Gotta say, I never get tired how easy it is to get you rich folks to pay up like that..." he chuckled.

"Well its not like there are many men of your profession, let's be quite frank. The wedding is next weekend, this should be enough time for an individual of your expertise" answered Hemtosh as he brushed his brown mustache with his index and thumb.

"I'm on it..."

Turgen leaned forward and pressed a button on the table, turning off his contact's hologram. He then tossed his still burning cigar in the over-sized ashtray next to it and stood himself up, stretching his muscles at the same time. He walked up to the door leading outside the small private room. As his feet came just in front of the exit, the passage way opened itself up, revealing the rest of the bar.

All around him, at least twenty of other outlaws were drinking, scheming and laughing. The chef walked through the crowd, exchanging handshakes and nods with everyone in his path. He might have taken up an odd job, but there was no denying, Turgen was someone who had taken out some tough space beasts, making him kind of a legend around the place. The fact that he turned said creatures into such delicious dishes was just a nice bonus.

As he walked out of the establishment, the rest of the Hole opened itself up to the exotic bounty hunter. Ships coming in and out of the entrance port, others parked at the hangar landing pad. The steel works overhead with armed men keeping guard all over the place. Everywhere the eye could fall upon, something was going on.

A young woman was leaned next to the bar's front door. She had short spiky red hair and a skull with wrenches for cross bones tattoo decorating her neck. She wore jeans overalls with a sports bra covering the top half of her torso. She had leather work gloves on her hands and oil smothered on her right cheek. Trace wasn't very tall, but her slight muscles showed she was no pushover. She stood straight on her feet when her baby blue eyes noticed Turgen as he emerged from the smoke coming out of the doorway.

"About god damn time! You know you could take these calls in the ship right?" She exclaimed as she hit the big man's right tricep with her pointy little elbow.

"I need my alone time... I swear I'm not even a step outside and I've already got a headache going on as soon as I hear ya..." responded Turgen as he patted the point of impact with his left hand in annoyance.

"Oh shut up, you'd miss the sound of my voice if I wasn't around..." she answered back.

The two of them walked along towards the hangar, on their way to meet up with the ship.

"So, what are we hunting?" asked Trace, barely able to contain her excitement. She was the chef's mechanic, but she had a weird interest in the different creatures they encountered on their adventures. She was amazed at the biological possibilities of the world almost as much as the mechanical ones of technology. That's why Turgen had her on the team, she was the perfect crew-mate, someone who wanted to know it all and had the skills to apply it. Although he would never tell her directly, fearing of never hearing the end of it...

"A Porlask... Whatever the hell that is..." answered the chef.

Trace squirmed weirdly, Turgen could already tell she knew what the target was.

"Oh I can't wait to show you! This is gonna be one hell of a presentation during briefing!" The young mechanic exclaimed, joining her hands together in joyful glee.

"And I thought leaving school early would make sure I'd never see another 3D PowerPoint..."

"Come on, I put a lot of work into those! Don't you feel like you're in the beginning of a video game mission? I am bringing your immersion to a whole other level!"

"Why the fuck would I need immersion for real life?" asked Turgen as he rolled his eyes.

"Stop crying you big baby, without my mission prep skills, you wouldn't even know where to start!" back-talked Trace with a wink of the eye.

The two of them finally arrived at the ship: the Star Saucer. It was a simple round design with elongated thrusters at the back, Turgen personally called it his frying pan because of its general shape. It was a rough looking ship, obviously built up and repaired through improvisation. But even if it wasn't the prettiest, it was a damn good ship. The rear ion thrusters could output a nice kick, especially if the generator was nicely charged through the solar panels on the roof, making it a hard space-craft to catch up to. The directional propulsion system installed at the four quadrants of the circular hull at the top and bottom gave it an agility that was hard to manage, but also hard to keep up with if piloted right.

The Star Saucer had been the chef's vessel for a long time, no one could pilot it like he could. Turgen was famously known for his extravagant escapes from the law. Most of the species the space cook was requested to hunt were protected under the act of extra-terrestrial rights, making alien hunting an illegal, but very profitable sport for the extravagant chefs of the galaxy, of whom the were very few... Turgen's only request: the target can't talk back, then it's just weird to make a meal out of it... With a few finger taps on his wrist screen, the main hatch of the Star Saucer opened from beneath. The two companions boarded the craft, ready to begin preparations for the contract.