“We don’t know anything about it!” announced Patton, trying to stay in the flow, but becoming increasingly distracted by something flitting about his head that only he could see.

“After what they paid me to get you, you better.”

“Paid?” I cried. “You’re a bounty hunter?”

“I try to avoid labeling people.”

The Susank brigade had assembled and could be heard crashing through the corn. I wondered how pitchforks would fare against space lasers.

“Oh, they sound angry,” said Earthrbro. “Hold on.” He pointed a finger to the hull of the ship and then mimed an arcing motion toward the corn. The ship launched something that looked like an ascending firework over the crop, where it bloomed into a colorful, luminescent dome, then dissipated.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Patton, as he entered the spirit world.

All the flashlights went dead. “Did you just kill them?” I yelled.

“An electromag pulse accompanied by a light show is usually sufficient to scare off the natives. They should be impressed enough to leave now,” said Earthrbro casually. “Oh, look, there they go. Buh-bye!”

The voices receded. Thanks for the valiant rescue effort, fellow humans.

“Enough dawdling,” said the bounty hunter with a pirouette. “The Scythin only need your brain. I’m free to shoot your legs off if need be.”

As we were compelled up the ramp under the threat of having our legs shot off, something dawned on me. Insectoid Boba Fett here had said that I was valuable because of the Chime. He didn’t know what it was, but the money was real enough to make him run a four-day catfishing scam in hopes of hooking me. Someone – these Scythin – wanted it. The Chime was real. Under the circumstances, that was oddly validating.

We reached the top of the ramp and it closed behind us.

“Whoa,” said Patton, whose pupils had opened wide enough to see the future.

I didn’t know what I was expecting but this wasn’t it. The inside of the ship was gorgeous. Like the command deck of an oil-prince’s yacht rolling out of St. Thomas. All gleaming surfaces – some of which looked like polished wood. Supple chairs covered in... leather? I’d thought bounty hunters only flew shit boxes.

Earthrbro curtsied. “Welcome aboard the Silent Child.”

One feature immediately stood out from the rest. Set off to the side, was a long, black, well, coffin was the only word to describe it. Thigh height, it was maybe ten feet long, with a glass top and metal walls that flared out at the bottom where it was secured to the floor. A few lights blinked along its length.

“That where you sleep?” I asked.

“Fucking space vampires,” mumbled Patton.

“I don’t require sleep,” answered Earthrbro, punching some icons on a screen.

I was still putting everything together. “You set a trap on Déjà Who,” I said, more to myself than anyone, and feeling dumber by the second. Unbelievable. It wasn’t a trap I was ever guaranteed to see, much less fall into, but it was there if I swam by. This bounty hunter had simply gone to a place where someone like me would be expected to go, dropped a hook in the water and waited. And just like a catfish, I’d swallowed the bait. Do catfish hate themselves when they realize they’ve been had?³⁴