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Spike Spiegel stumbled into the Bebop's galley at what felt like an ungodly hour, his hair even more disheveled than usual. He squinted against the overhead lights, reaching blindly for the coffee maker, only to find it already brewing.
"You look like death," Faye said from the table, cigarette dangling from her lips as she shuffled a deck of cards.
"Good morning to you too, Faye."
"It's three in the afternoon."
Spike grunted, pouring himself a cup of the dark liquid that Jet optimistically called coffee. The Bebop hummed around them, that familiar vibration of the old fishing ship turned bounty hunter vessel. Home, if he was being generous with the term.
The main monitor crackled to life, and suddenly a child's face filled the screen. Bright eyes, gap-toothed smile, and a mess of hair that seemed to defy gravity.
"HELLOOOOO BEBOP PEOPLE!"
Spike nearly dropped his coffee. Faye's cigarette fell from her mouth. Even Ein, who had been napping under the table, perked up his ears.
"Ed?" Spike said, but this wasn't Ed. This kid was younger. Maybe eight or nine years old.
"My name is Tommy Hendricks and I am going to be the GREATEST bounty hunter in the solar system and I am coming to join your crew RIGHT NOW!"
The screen went black.
Spike and Faye stared at each other for a long moment.
"Did that just happen?" Faye asked.
"Jet's gonna love this," Spike muttered.
They found the kid in the cargo bay twenty minutes later, crouched behind a stack of Jet's spare parts, clutching what appeared to be a water gun painted silver.
"Freeze!" Tommy shouted, jumping out with the toy weapon pointed at Spike's chest. "I'm taking this ship hostage until you agree to train me!"
Spike raised his hands slowly, fighting back a smile. "That's quite a weapon you got there, kid."
"It's a Jericho 941. Just like yours." Tommy's voice wavered slightly, betraying his bravado.
"Really? Lemme see." Spike crouched down to the kid's level. Tommy hesitated, then held out the water gun. Spike examined it with exaggerated seriousness. "Hmm. Good weight. Nice trigger pull. But I think you might need a few more years before you're ready for the real thing."
"I'm ready now! I've been practicing! I've watched every video of the Bebop crew. You're the best, Mr. Spiegel. You and Mr. Jet and Miss Valentine. Even that weird hacker girl."
"Ed's gonna be thrilled to hear that," Faye said from the doorway, arms crossed. "Kid, how did you even get on the ship?"
Tommy's chest puffed out proudly. "I snuck on at the last port. Hid in one of the supply crates. I've been planning this for three months."
Jet's heavy footsteps echoed through the bay. "Would someone like to explain why we have a child on my ship?"
"Absolutely not." Jet Black stood with his arms crossed, his cybernetic arm gleaming under the galley lights. "We are not a daycare. We are bounty hunters. This is dangerous work."
Tommy sat at the table between Spike and Faye, his legs swinging well above the floor. Ein had taken a liking to him and was resting his head on the kid's lap.
"But Mr. Black, sir, I can help! I'm really good with computers and I'm small so I can fit into tight spaces and and and—" Tommy's words tumbled over each other in his excitement.
"Kid," Jet said, his voice softening despite himself, "where are your parents?"
The brightness dimmed from Tommy's eyes. "Don't have any. Not anymore. They were on a colony ship that... well, they're gone. Been in foster care for two years. But I ran away because I knew. I knew I was meant to be a bounty hunter. Like you guys."
The galley fell silent except for the ever present hum of the ship. Spike stared into his coffee. Faye suddenly found her fingernails fascinating. Even Jet looked away.
"Listen, Tommy," Jet began, sitting down at the table. "This life... it's not what you think. It's not glamorous. We barely make enough to eat most days. People shoot at us. A lot. It's lonely and dangerous and—"
"I don't care about that stuff," Tommy interrupted. "I just want to belong somewhere. With people who are good at what they do. Who care about stuff. You guys care, even if you pretend you don't. I can see it."
Spike finally spoke up. "Kid's got good intuition. That's important in this line of work."
"Spike—" Jet warned.
"I'm just saying, we were all young once. All had to start somewhere."
"We're not keeping him," Jet said firmly. "End of discussion. We'll drop him at the next port with proper authorities who can make sure he gets to a good home."
Tommy's shoulders slumped, but he nodded. "Okay. Thanks for not being mean about it, at least."
The next morning, Ed's face appeared on every screen simultaneously.
"Ed has found something VERY INTERESTING yes yes! Bounty bounty bounty!"
"Ed, it's too early for your enthusiasm," Spike groaned.
"Bad man person with BIGTIME bounty is on Callisto! 50,000 woolongs! But but but he is in the old ice mines where very dangerous and children are prohibited which is DISCRIMINATION Edward thinks!"
Tommy perked up from where he'd been sadly poking at his breakfast. "The ice mines? I know those! I lived near there before the colony ship. There are access tunnels. Small ones. Only kids can fit through them."
Jet frowned. "That's convenient."
"It's true! The miners used to use kids to do inspections before it was made illegal. There's a whole network. If your bad guy is hiding in there, an adult won't be able to get through the main security grid. But the maintenance tunnels..." Tommy's eyes lit up. "I could guide you through!"
"Absolutely not," Jet said.
"Jet," Spike said slowly, "fifty thousand woolongs would keep us fed for two months."
"We are not using a child as part of a bounty hunting operation."
"I'm not saying we use him. I'm saying we listen to what he knows. Then we make a decision."
Faye shrugged. "I'm with Spike on this one. At least hear the kid out."
Jet looked at each of them, then down at Tommy's hopeful face, then at Ein, who barked as if casting his vote too.
"Fine. FINE. But if we do this—and I mean IF—the kid stays in the ship under Ed's supervision. He just tells us what he knows. Nothing more."
Tommy nodded so vigorously his whole body shook.
The Bebop touched down on Callisto's frozen surface two days later. The ice mines loomed before them, a sprawling complex of industrial structures half buried in glaciers, abandoned years ago when mining became unprofitable.
"The target's name is Marcus 'The Eel' Delgado," Jet read from his tablet. "Wanted for fraud, embezzlement, and evading arrest. Apparently he's slippery, hence the name. Security footage shows he entered the mines three days ago. Local police won't go in because of structural instability."
"Which is where we come in," Spike said, checking his Jericho 941.
"And where I come in!" Tommy said, already bundled in a cold weather suit that was three sizes too big.
"You're staying on the ship," Jet reminded him.
"But—"
"Kid, those tunnels haven't been inspected in years. They could collapse. There could be toxic gas. Animals. It's not safe."
Tommy's face fell again, but he nodded. "I understand. I'll show you on the maps where to go."
For the next hour, Tommy spread out old mining blueprints he'd somehow accessed through Ed's computer, pointing out routes, explaining which tunnels were stable and which ones to avoid. His knowledge was impressive and detailed. Too detailed for someone who'd just lived nearby.
"You spent a lot of time in these mines, didn't you?" Spike asked quietly while Jet and Faye gathered gear.
Tommy didn't look up from the map. "My dad worked here. Before. He used to take me on weekends. Taught me all the safety protocols. Said knowledge keeps you alive." His small fingers traced a tunnel route. "This is the last place I saw him. Before the colony ship."
Spike put a hand on the kid's shoulder. Said nothing. Sometimes silence was better.
The ice mines were worse than expected. The temperature inside hovered just above freezing, and every sound echoed and multiplied until it was impossible to tell what was real and what was just the mountain talking to itself.
"This is creepy," Faye muttered, her breath visible in the dim light of their flashlights.
"Stay close," Jet said. "According to Tommy's map, Delgado should be holed up in the old foreman's office. It's the only place with working heat and power."
They moved through the tunnels, following Tommy's directions precisely. Every turn, every fork in the path matched what the kid had described. Spike had to admit, the boy knew his stuff.
Then they hit the cave-in.
A massive pile of ice and rock blocked their path completely. No way through. No way around.
"Damn it," Jet swore. "This must be recent. It wasn't on any of the reports."
"So what now?" Faye asked. "Go back and find another route?"
Spike studied the blockage, then looked at his communicator. "Tommy, you read me?"
Static, then: "I'm here! What's wrong?"
"We've got a problem. Cave-in at junction twelve. Is there another way to the foreman's office?"
A pause. "No. Not for adults. But there's a maintenance tunnel. I can see it on the old maps. It's small but it should still be stable. Thing is, you'd have to go back almost to the entrance and loop around. That's two hours, and by then Delgado might realize you're here and run."
"What about the maintenance tunnel on this side?" Spike asked, already knowing what the kid would say.
"It's here. Starts about twenty meters back. But Mr. Spiegel, it's really small. Like, really really small."
Jet's voice was firm. "Don't even think about it, Spike."
"I'm thinking about it."
"You can't fit through a child-sized tunnel."
"No," Spike said slowly. "But I know someone who can."
"No," Jet said for the fifteenth time. They'd made it back to the Bebop, and the argument had been ongoing for ten minutes.
"Jet, we're losing time," Spike said. "The kid knows these tunnels. He can do this."
"He's eight years old!"
"Nine," Tommy corrected quietly.
"NINE years old. We are not sending a child into a dangerous mine to confront an armed criminal."
"He wouldn't confront anyone," Spike explained patiently. "He'd just go through the maintenance tunnel, confirm Delgado's location, and come back. That's it. We'd have eyes on the target and could plan our approach."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"I'll have a communicator," Tommy said, his voice surprisingly steady. "And I know those tunnels better than anyone. I'll be safe. I promise."
Faye, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "You know what? The kid's right. Sometimes being small is an advantage. And if he says he knows what he's doing, maybe we should trust him."
Jet looked at each of them. "This is insane. You know that, right?"
"Most of what we do is insane," Spike pointed out.
"If anything happens to this kid—"
"It won't," Tommy said with confidence that seemed beyond his years. "My dad taught me well. And besides, I want to help. I want to be useful. Please, Mr. Black. Let me do this. Let me show you I can be part of the crew."
Jet closed his eyes, and everyone knew he'd already lost the argument. "Fine. But we're monitoring every step. And at the first sign of trouble, you abort. Understood?"
"Understood!"
The maintenance tunnel was exactly as cramped as Tommy had warned. Spike had to help boost the kid up into the entrance, a narrow opening that would have been impossible for any adult to navigate.
"Remember," Jet's voice came through the communicator clipped to Tommy's coat, "you're just scouting. Find Delgado, confirm his location, and come right back."
"Got it," Tommy said, clicking on his headlamp. The beam of light illuminated a tunnel that seemed to stretch forever into darkness.
Spike met the kid's eyes. "You got this?"
"I got this."
"Good. Now go show us why you wanted to be a bounty hunter."
Tommy grinned and disappeared into the tunnel.
On the Bebop, Ed tracked Tommy's progress through the communicator signal, creating a real-time map on the screen. "Tiny person is moving very good yes yes! Like a very determined mole!"
"Ed, please tell me you're recording his vitals," Jet said, stress clear in his voice.
"Edward is recording ALL the things! Heart rate is zippy but good! Tommy person is very brave!"
In the tunnel, Tommy crawled forward with practiced ease. His father's lessons came back to him: always test your weight before committing, listen to the ice, keep your breathing steady. The tunnel wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Cold, yes, but stable. He'd been through worse during his time living near the mines.
After twenty minutes, he heard voices. Adult voices, echoing through the ice.
"I'm telling you, nobody knows we're here," a man said. Marcus Delgado, had to be.
"You said that on Mars, and look how that turned out." A second voice. Delgado had company.
Tommy carefully approached a grating in the tunnel floor, probably an old ventilation shaft. He peered through and could see directly into the foreman's office below. Two men. Delgado matched the bounty photo, thin, nervous energy, constantly moving. The second man was bigger, armed with a rifle.
"Mr. Black," Tommy whispered into his communicator, "I can see him. Delgado's in the office. But he has a partner. Big guy with a gun."
"Can you describe the layout?" Spike's voice came back.
Tommy did, his descriptions precise and detailed. He told them about the exits, the equipment in the room, even which direction the men were facing.
"Good work, kid," Jet said, and Tommy could hear the pride in his voice. "Now get out of there."
"Wait," Tommy said, noticing something. "There's a third person. In the corner. She looks hurt. I think Delgado has a hostage."
Silence on the other end.
Then Jet spoke. "Tommy, fall back. Now. We'll figure out another approach."
But Tommy was already thinking. The grating was old. Rusty. If he could open it just a little, he could maybe drop something down. Cause a distraction. Give the Bebop crew an advantage.
"Tommy," Spike's voice held a warning tone. "I know that silence. Whatever you're thinking, don't."
"I'm not thinking anything," Tommy lied, already working at the grating's bolts with a small tool from his pocket. His dad had always said: a good miner carries the right tools.
The bolt came loose easier than expected. Too easy. The grating shifted, metal scraping against metal, and the sound echoed through the office below.
Both men looked up.
"What was that?" the big one said, raising his rifle.
Tommy froze, his heart hammering so hard he thought they might hear it.
"It's nothing," Delgado said nervously. "Old building. Probably just ice settling."
But the big man wasn't convinced. He moved directly under the grating, looking up. His eyes met Tommy's.
"We got a rat," he said, bringing the rifle to bear.
"TOMMY, MOVE!" Spike's voice shouted through the communicator.
Tommy scrambled backwards in the tunnel as the rifle fired. The bullet sparked off metal and ice exploded around him. He crawled frantically, but the tunnel shook from the impact. Cracks spider-webbed across the ice above him.
"It's collapsing!" Tommy yelled into the communicator.
"Where are you?" Jet demanded.
"I don't know! I'm going back but everything looks different and—"
The ice gave way.
Spike was moving before the scream cut off.
"Spike, wait!" Jet called, but Spike was already sprinting back toward the cave-in, toward the maintenance tunnel entrance.
"The tunnel collapsed," Ed's panicked voice came through everyone's communicators. "Ed cannot see Tommy person anymore! Signal is gone gone gone!"
Spike reached the tunnel entrance and immediately started pulling himself up into it, despite the impossibility of it. His shoulders barely fit. He got maybe three meters in before becoming completely wedged.
"Spike, you can't," Faye said behind him, her voice tight. "You're too big."
"Then help me get unstuck so I can find another way," Spike growled.
It took both Faye and Jet pulling on his legs to extract him. By the time they got him out, Spike's shoulders were bruised and bloody, but he didn't seem to notice.
"The office," he said. "Delgado knows someone's here now. We go in fast and hard through the main entrance. Find Tommy on the way."
"That's suicide," Jet said. "We'll be walking into an ambush."
"You have a better idea?"
Jet didn't. None of them did.
They moved through the mine faster than was safe, taking risks, making noise. Stealth didn't matter anymore. Spike's usual lazy demeanor was gone, replaced by something cold and focused. Faye had never seen him like this.
They were halfway to the office when they heard it, a child coughing.
Tommy was buried up to his waist in ice and debris, his headlamp cracked but still giving off a weak glow. His face was pale, his lips slightly blue.
"Hey kid," Spike said, dropping to his knees and immediately starting to dig. "You okay?"
"Leg hurts," Tommy said through chattering teeth. "Sorry. I messed up. I should have listened."
"Yeah, you should have," Spike agreed, working quickly but carefully. "We'll discuss how grounded you are later."
"I'm grounded? Does that mean I can stay?"
Despite everything, Spike smiled. "Let's survive first, then we'll talk about it."
Jet and Faye joined in, and within minutes they had Tommy free. His left leg was twisted at a bad angle, probably broken. Jet fashioned a quick splint from debris while Faye gave Tommy her jacket.
"The woman," Tommy said through the pain. "The hostage. She's still there."
"We know," Jet said gently. "And we'll get her. But first we're getting you to safety."
"No," Tommy said with surprising firmness. "That's not what bounty hunters do. They don't leave people behind."
The three adults looked at each other.
"Kid's got a point," Faye said.
"Kid's delirious," Jet countered.
"Kid's right," Spike said, standing. "Jet, get Tommy back to the ship. Faye and I will handle Delgado."
"Spike—"
"That's an order, partner." Spike's expression left no room for argument. "Tommy risked his neck to help us. Least we can do is finish the job."
Jet looked like he wanted to argue, but finally nodded. He lifted Tommy carefully. "Don't do anything stupid."
"When do I ever?" Spike called back, already moving toward the foreman's office with Faye at his side.
The office door was reinforced metal. Spike stood to one side, Faye on the other.
"On three?" Faye asked.
"On three."
They breached together. Spike went low, Faye high. The big guy with the rifle got off one shot before Spike's first bullet caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around. Faye's second shot knocked the rifle from his hands.
Delgado was already running for the back exit.
"Really?" Spike sighed, and gave chase.
The Eel lived up to his name. Despite Spike being younger and faster, Delgado knew the tunnels and used every trick to stay ahead. They ran through the mine complex, a dangerous game of cat and mouse among unstable ice and rusted equipment.
Finally, Delgado made a mistake. He took a tunnel that dead-ended in what had once been an elevator shaft. He turned, breathing hard, hands up.
"Don't suppose we can work something out?" he panted.
"Don't suppose we can," Spike replied, not even winded.
Five minutes later, Spike was walking Delgado back to the office in handcuffs. Faye had secured the big guy and was helping the hostage, a young woman who had apparently witnessed one of Delgado's crimes and been grabbed for it.
"Nice work," Faye said.
"You too. Now let's collect this bounty and get out of here. I hate the cold."
Three days later, Tommy sat in the Bebop's infirmary with his leg in a proper cast. Ed had decorated it with drawings of Ein and what appeared to be abstract representations of bounty hunting.
"Doctor said six weeks," Jet announced, entering with a bowl of his special bell pepper and beef dish. Minus the beef, of course. "You'll be healed up just in time to start school."
Tommy looked up hopefully. "School where?"
Jet sat down heavily. "That's what we need to discuss. Tommy, what you did was brave. Stupid, but brave. You helped us catch a dangerous criminal and save a hostage. That counts for something."
"But?" Tommy could hear the but coming.
"But you're nine years old. You need stability. Education. A chance to be a kid. The Bebop isn't the right place for that."
Tommy's eyes filled with tears he tried to blink away. "I understand."
"Which is why," Spike said, entering with Faye behind him, "we called in a favor."
"A favor?" Tommy asked.
Faye smiled, and it was genuine, not her usual smirk. "We know someone. Runs a good group home on Mars. Takes in kids who've been through rough times. She's ex-ISSP, tough but fair. She agreed to take you on."
"But," Spike continued, "here's the deal. You go to school. You be a kid. You learn, you grow, you stay out of trouble. And on school breaks, if you want, you can ride with us. Learn the trade properly. Not as a crew member, but as... an intern."
Tommy's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really," Jet confirmed. "But you have to hold up your end. Good grades. No running away. And you listen to Martha. She doesn't take any nonsense."
"This is assuming you want to," Faye added. "If you'd rather stay at the group home full-time, we understand."
Tommy was crying now, but smiling too. "I want to. I really want to. Thank you. Thank you so much."
Spike ruffled the kid's hair. "Thank us by not falling through any more ceilings."
A week later, they landed on Mars. The group home was in a decent part of town, a converted apartment building with a small courtyard where kids were playing.
Martha was exactly as advertised, a stern-faced woman in her fifties with iron-gray hair and eyes that missed nothing. She looked the Bebop crew up and down with clear skepticism.
"So you're the famous bounty hunters," she said. "And you want me to take in a boy you found stowed away on your ship, who you then took on a bounty hunt where he nearly died."
"When you put it that way, it sounds bad," Spike said.
Martha's expression didn't change. Then, slowly, she smiled. "Good thing I don't believe in judging books by their covers. Tommy's told me his story. He's a good kid. He'll do fine here."
Tommy stood between them, his duffel bag in hand, cast on his leg. He looked scared but excited.
"You remember the deal?" Jet asked.
"School, good grades, no trouble. I remember."
"And you call if you need anything," Faye added, slipping something into Tommy's pocket. Probably woolongs. "I mean it. Anything."
"We'll see you in three months," Spike said. "First break, you're back on the Bebop. We'll teach you the boring stuff. Maintenance. Navigation. How to make coffee that doesn't taste like motor oil."
"Hey," Jet protested.
Tommy hugged each of them. Even Faye, though she pretended to hate it. Ein got special attention, licking the kid's face until he giggled.
Then Martha put a hand on Tommy's shoulder and led him into the building. At the door, Tommy turned back one more time.
"I'm gonna be the best bounty hunter ever!" he called.
"We know, kid," Spike called back. "We know."
The Bebop docked at the same port on Mars, and Tommy was waiting. He'd grown a little, and his cast was gone. He wore new clothes, and his hair was actually combed.
"Look at you," Faye said. "Almost respectable."
"Don't get used to it," Tommy grinned. "Martha made me clean up for the trip."
"How's school?" Jet asked as they walked back to the ship.
"Good! I got all A's. Martha says if I keep it up, she'll let me take flying lessons when I turn twelve."
"Flying lessons, huh?" Spike said. "Well, first things first. This week, you're learning how to properly maintain a spacecraft. It's not glamorous, but it's important."
"I'm ready," Tommy said eagerly.
As they boarded the Bebop, Ed's face appeared on every screen. "TOMMY PERSON HAS RETURNED! Ed has prepared MANY educational programs about spaceship fixing and also cartoons!"
Ein barked happily, tail wagging.
The ship felt more complete somehow, with the kid's laughter echoing through the halls. They wouldn't always have him with them. He needed to grow up, needed to learn, needed to be a kid. But for these few weeks every few months, he was part of the crew.
As the Bebop lifted off, Tommy pressed his face to the window, watching Mars shrink below.
"This never gets old," he said.
"No," Spike agreed, standing beside him. "It really doesn't."
And somewhere in the black, with stars spreading out before them like diamonds on velvet, the Bebop and its crew carried on. A little bit bigger. A little bit more like family.
Whatever happened tomorrow, they'd face it together.