The more the merrier

Susan flicked a glance at the magistrate’s twitching antennae, then at Vorax’s belt—now adorned with three fresh finger bones. "You hunt bounties *and* magistrates?" she asked, nudging the Zyxian’s chitin with her boot. The alien hissed weakly.

Vorax’s chuckle sounded like a rockslide down a metal staircase. "Magistrate is bounty. Ghorrax pay triple for Zyxian traitors." He leaned in, his breath hot enough to crisp Susan’s eyelashes. "But little meats know this."

Adam crossed his arms, feigning disinterest. "Ghorrax’s bounty’s got a kill-on-sight clause. You delivering these ones breathing?"

The youngest Voraxian—its cybernetic eye whirring—stepped forward, hefting the plasma cannon. "Ghorrax want alive torture. More fun, more credits." It mimed peeling carapace with its claws.

Susan grinned. "Tell you what," she said, plucking a vibro-blade from Vorax’s belt without asking. The alien let her. "We know where Ghorrax isn’t expecting company." She spun the blade, catching it by the hilt. "His orbital station’s got a blind spot—docking bay shielded from scanners. Used to smuggle gladiators in for private matches."

Adam gave her a look that asked, "where did she learn of this information." " I couldn't sleep last night so I did some deep dark web research" she stated reassuringly.