I never planned to become a space hunter. But life doesn’t always go how you want. One day you're working in a boring spaceport loading boxes, and the next, you're chasing wanted criminals across galaxies with a blaster in one hand and unpaid bills in the other hand with family responsibility.
I’ve been doing this for 22 years. That’s 22 years of tracking liars, cheaters, and the occasional alien who just stole snacks from the wrong vending machine. Not all of them were evil. Some just made dumb mistakes. Like the time I arrested a guy who thought “stealing a spaceship” would impress his girlfriend. (Spoiler: she left him anyway.), what a pity?
But this story isn't about them. It's about me, and my last day on the job.
It was supposed to be easy. Just one more bounty. A thief hiding in the broken moons of Sector 12. I had my tools, my ship, and a strong cup of hot coffee. But when I got there, I found something I didn’t expect a kid. Barely 18. Scared. Hungry. And clearly in way over his head.
He didn’t fight. He just asked, “Do you ever get tired of doing this?”
I didn’t answer right away. Not because I didn’t know, but because I did. I was tired. My ship was falling apart. My knees cracked like old metal. And my heart? My heart just wanted peace and more.
I let the kid go. Gave him some food, pointed him toward a better planet. Then I flew home.
I handed in my badge the next day. I made the decision without second thought. Cos I was all by myself and all I could think of is having a rest of mind.
Now I sit on a small farm on a quiet moon. I grow fruit no one’s ever heard of. I listen to wind instead of gunshots. And every once in a while, I wonder where that kid ended up.
Maybe he became a bounty hunter too. Or maybe, just maybe, he found a better way.
All I know is I don’t miss the chase. Not one bit.