Four years ago – Planet Cronen – The Hulky Hog

  “I swear, these fucking crewless sons of bitches.”

  Leido chugged down his fourth Voyager on the rocks – a black rye-based whiskey.

  “Money up front, only 60:40, option to quit. Fuck!”

  He gestured the barkeep to keep them coming.

  With a high-pitched mockery tone, he imitated.

  “I just value my freedom too much for a crew. I don’t want the Trail to be my life.”

  He sniffled and hawked nastily.

  “Pussies. All of them.”

  He knocked the counter twice before chugging the fifth. Ruri did the same. She was already up two glasses.

  “I get it. I get it. Sellswords were worth a shot, but… Fuck. I agree, they suck.”

  She tapped her finger beneath the glass, urging a refill.

  “We never get to the big leagues like that.”

  The entirety of the planet Cronen was much like the bar and that bar much like its visitors. It looked horrible, pretended to be better, would boast if it could and smelled shitty after a good scrub.

  Still, especially The Hulky Hog embedded itself in Bounty Hunter culture. It was the kind of place where legends are foretold, forged and remembered. A place where someone would carve your name in the counter, simply to point at it, because they got too drunk to tell the story. When such thing happened, the hunters would scream a name they never heard and drink to it even if it meant to puke in the corner. Here everybody understood and everybody shared everything – the liquor, the dead, the stories and the sacrifice. More importantly every once in a while, you would look up from the bottom of your glass to the old-school split-flap display and see the names of the legends you wish to become.

  The clacking of the leaderboard was a sound that brought a roaring room to silence for a second. The column reserved for the stars appeared first. One after another slotted itself in, always 10 in total. All eyes drifted to the column beneath it, awaiting the confirmation of the BHC. A faint pinging noise was followed by heavy clacking, typing out the name of the one who did it. The one that defied the odds with their crew and took on a job, that meant certain death for others. The one that reserved a spot in the anecdotes of generations to come.

  The one that turned legendary.

  When the clacking stopped, that name would be engraved on that board forever. Chants, smiles and cheers to hunt followed. There would always be that one drunk someone researching what just happened and naturally read the news to the room.

  Ruri was never there when it happened. Had never seen the spectacle up close, but heard enough stories to write a book about it. She liked to imagine her name up there between Cully Kid and The Voy Sisters.

  She always bit her lip thinking of it. Today she tore some skin off her lip with it as well.

  One wall was plastered with pictures of all sorts. Scribbles held by a knife showing a crew and a monster, a digital frame replaying the same slide show of old BHC cartoons over and over, an analog instant photo, glued to the wall, half burned and tinted yellow, displaying a serious looking man in front of his ship.

  The view of that always brought her back. She smiled looking at these, peculiarly with droopy eyes when drunk.

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  “What the fuck are we even sulking about?”

  Her chair screeched a little while she straightened herself out.

  “Cully kid, Armando Roux, the red stars - they all were nobodies until they were somebodies.”

  She put her hand on Leido’s shoulder.

  “That’s fucking us buddy.”

  She nodded drunk and sincere. He let out a weak laugh and rose his glass.

  “To the Nobodies.”

  She smiled.

  “No. To the eventually somebodies.”

  Sloan the Barkeep poured another round, setting aside a glass for herself. Sloan was part of the inventory, worked at the Hog since she was a little girl.

  “I remember the day I first met Cully. Wasn’t exactly the guy you would expect to turn up on the board someday. He didn’t say a thing until he had one too many and even then, he just rambled some nonsense to himself.”

  They rose the glasses again. A cling – all drinks chugged down clean.

  “Eventually he got up and tumbled to chunky. Made the 20.4 seconds record that day.”

  Chunky was the absurdly gracefully floating hog in a cylindrical chamber near them. He was name giver, the pride of the bounty hunters and victim to one of their silly games.

  Cronen naturally had very low gravity, which got countered with an artificial gravity field. It glued the place together, even when said glue only held with hopes and dreams in some parts. However, in some places they couldn’t make it work and simply sealed these parts off. One day a heated discussion between a livestock trader and some military opportunist led to a hog being left alone in a small chamber, that should have been sealed off. The bounty hunters wanted to see if anyone could stick their glass on the small horn on its head. The moment the first glass stuck, the crowd cheered and the game was born.

  Chunky was spinning a little and let himself just bounce off the glass separating the Hog from the room. Ruri was convinced that he probably couldn’t move under other circumstances. She put the glass aside fixated on the Hog.

  “You never know. Maybe he was already the guy he is today. We just didn’t see it.”

  Chunky ever so slightly floated towards the ground before giving himself a big push to the ceiling again. Always spinning – never bothered.

  “What did you say the record was?”

  A moment later Ruri stood at the chamber.

  Topping off the fucking Hog, because that’s what I do.

  In retrospect, she wasn’t sure if that story about Cully was even true or Sloan just loved to push someone away from the counter for once. Nonetheless the record was true.

  20.4 seconds. Long enough to make a fool out of yourself or to prove to yourself that you aren’t one.

  There were two doors connecting the chamber to the room between them, a small space to adjust the pressure. Whenever someone wanted to enter the chamber, the crowd helped setting it up. Some bystander handed her a glass, another one entered with her, just because he was close to it and the rest turned their chairs to the action. There was a handle on the ground marking the spot for the contestant. One had to push the hog up to the ceiling and leave. When the door closes, the game starts.

  She could hear the pressure hissing from the small space behind her. The first door closed, the one directly behind her. The other one would be held open for a second waiting for a cue of some sort. She looked at Chunky slowly hovering up. Her one hand loosely held onto the handle the other one gripped the glass. She looked over her shoulder. The helper that had pushed up the hog was already outside, holding the door just enough to close it on signal. She nodded. He let go. The door snapped shut.

  She pushed herself off, aiming for the ceiling. One clean move was all it took, at least that’s what she thought. The Hog squeaked, while bouncing to the side. She was reaching out, but missed wide. Suddenly the beefy Chunky moved precisely. That beast was trained for this environment. Some whistling came from the crowd. Ruri only heard it as distant and muffled hollering inside the chamber. She was up top, bent inwards, like a spring close to release. There was a pattern. He couldn’t go anywhere he wanted, but had to use the right angle to make his next move. She jumped hoping to hit the Hog mid-crossing. Wide again. Chunky was moving fast between left and right, actually holding the height for a moment.

  That motherfucker is prancing.

  She had to mix it up and tried to mimic some of the bouncing. Coming in at an angle this time. She went to the left low, jumped to the right mid chamber and watched closely before the last push. Chunky wanted to get some space again, leaping towards the bottom. She saw it coming. Last push - the glass missed. At the last second, she held on to the Hog. Another attempt – it stuck. She looked outside to the running clock.

  26.3

  She looked disappointed, but the crowd cheered and whistled. She felt a little bit dizzy and still drank the shot she got handed from some stranger.

  Leido smirked at her.

  “Just like Cully the fucking kid.”

  She laughed.

  “Big leagues baby!”