#...technically.

After many fewer moments of pondering than should typically be utilized when determining trustworthiness, the human Derebak grinned conspiratorially. "Good. We can use a strongman."

It is well-known throughout the universe that if you want to come home with an interesting story, you find a group of humans. Well known only to spacefaring humans, however, is that if you want to get up to any real sort of trouble, you'd best find a Saiyan and earn his respect. Dependable as anything once they like you, but therein lies the issue.

When the two empires met on the edge of space, there was a near-immediate understanding that they were like each other. This was unfortunate, considering just how much humans like to squabble amongst themselves. The superior Saiyan strength very nearly had to test itself against humanity's advanced tactics and brains, but eventually the issues were sorted out and the two fell into an uneasy peace, as far as the heads of each civilization was concerned.

For anybody who spent any time at all on a station where the two species collided, they understood the peace wasn't uneasy in the slightest.

Sure, for Saiyan tastes humans were a bit yappy, and they were all soft in the face and in the heart. And humans thought the Saiyan appearance and temperament a bit beastly, sticking closer to the apes from which he had sprung up than man did. But really, it usually took very little time for them to look past this and start swapping stories of home over drinks paid for by whoever lost that day's bet.

And so while Derebak didn't know Witloof from Adam, it knew he was sincere. Saiyans made for awful liars and for great troublemakers. Both species hated being yanked around by the chain, and Derebak was confident that if it could rope Witloof in on smaller stuff, he'd follow this thing all the way to the top.

And taking care of an earnest idiot is merely human nature, not that a human would ever let a Saiyan cotton on to that fact.

Derebak 'Rabies' Johnson, not-quite-rogue astrogator of the tourist jump-ship Tyger, Tyger, stuck out a hand. "Call me Rabies, all the people I like do."

It looked the musclehead up and down, but there's not much to be gleaned from a Saiyan at first glance. They're a longer-lived race, averaging about 150 earth-years and don't age like humans besides. And as for uniform, there's certain standards, but each piece of armor seemed unique. You couldn't even tell the tourists apart from the warriors by anything except their stance and their tails, as finding a Saiyan in anything but armor was about as likely as finding a shaved grizzly out in the woods and made them about as uncomfortable.

A fanged mouth and solid grip returned the gestures. "Good to know you, Rabies." He snorted, hoping the name was indicative of things to come. He could tell by the human's uniform he was outranked, but he had heard human society was a bit less stringent with formalities than home was, so he made the conscious choice not to bow or salute. Witloof was hoping to enter this troupe as a member, not a tagalong. "I'm Witloof, stationed here 'just in case.' Exactly what threats to the Vegetan Autocracy are expected from a tourist station on the human side of the boundary, I don't know."

One of the other humans spoke up, a blonde man who could easily have been the face of a boyband if his voice didn't bring to mind rusty nails in a blender. "Maybe you're here to save us against some awful threat like a meteor or invading monster, earning our government's trust and establishing yourselves as a race of altruists!" He guffawed, "A real protection racket!"

Witloof wasn't sure he understood the joke, but all the humans burst out laughing at that, and he decided not to take offense.

"Cuss," Rabies managed to squawk out between breaths, "you gotta warn a freak before you go and say something like that! You're gonna kill us!" It managed to hold its breath long enough to calm down before turning back to Witloof with tears still in its eyes. "That's Jack, although he's got a few less pleasant nicknames too. Don't pay him any mind, that's just how he is. He's an engineer here on the E.S.S. Poetry, and you know how engineers are."

It wiped its face a bit. "Right now we're just looking at the supply chain for this place, but come meet me in my quarters at, say, nine o'clock station time. I eat a late dinner but I aughtta be finished by then. I'll tell you a bit about what, as you put it, we're up to."

Derebak reached into a pocket and pulled out a small pad of paper and pen, writing down its bunk's location. Crew area, of course. Hopefully it wouldn't be too hard to find, Witloof still had a bit of trouble with the way humans organized big spaces and the crew area was doubtless less well-marked than the area meant for the easily-lost masses.

Witloof took the paper and tucked it into the breast of his armor. "You can count on me," he acknowledged. He tried to study the computer screen, but this sort of stuff was never his expertise and it was in a language he barely knew, to boot. He was mid-class, sure, but his parents were low-class so the traditional Saiyan warrior was really all that was open to him.

As the humans yammered on quietly about resources, Witloof took the time to observe them. Saiyans usually came with one hair colour, one eye colour, and a very small range of skin tones. Halfbreeds weren't all that rare in the lower classes, so it wasn't like he'd never seen a blonde or a redhead before, but moving through groups of humans he was always astonished by their differences.

And their physiques! He had heard that back in ancient history, humans had been a hunter race. But he doubted it. How could any species so soft in the body bring down prey? Humans didn't eat nearly as much as Saiyans did, but surely they had to eat something, and, in his opinion, there was no way they could kill enough to fill their bellies with such meagre strength.

Although, as the small group disbanded to go about their tasks for the day, Witloof had to wonder if it had something to do with their reputation for trouble and penchant for surviving it. Was it possible to turn that into a hunting strategy? Did ancient humans cause so much chaos that the beasts around them simply died of it, leaving the humans unharmed?

He was a bit torn- on one hand he wasn't paid to ask big questions. On the other hand, he had already decided to join them- he'd even given his word and partaken of the human hand shake gesture. To his understanding from the cultural training, such an act was not only a statement of friendliness and companionship, it was also how they sealed unbreakable deals.

Maybe they already considered him part of their troupe? Humans formed close bonds incredibly easily, that much he was certain of. He had heard stories of them bonding to things that weren't even alive, but he wasn't sure how that would even work.

As Witloof wandered off to Poetry's dining strip, he started thinking about just who or what he was entrusting his strength to. He hoped Rabies was a good leader.