It's nice to watch people struggle...

The thing about a huge corporation which literally makes it's money by taking a pound of flesh from it's clients, is that you can't expect it to listen when you try to explain why you haven't paid it. It doesn't matter if we didn't buy the organs, or if we never had the surgery. We're all on file somehow, and I expect that's more due to the Admiral's design than any slight clerical error.

[Jim sounds calm, and there's a hint of gravel to his voice. The pretense of being a nice guy is slipping a little here, because it's just all so incredibly obvious.]

If there's time, and if you can find someone who'd take your case, then the best option for us is probably to find a lawyer and get our repossessions gridlocked into long legal battles. Clearly none of us will show any signs of having undergone surgery, and it would be impossible for them to find a doctor who'd actually performed it, so there should be enough evidence to at least delay this until we're back on the Barge. On a long enough timeline, that could even be a permanent solution to this. The only problem is how long it would take to find a lawyer willing to do it, file proceedings, and have the surgeons called off. By the time it all went through it could well be too late.

[His tone's low and unconcerned, he's a realist. He won't be looking for a lawyer.]

So failing that, I'd recommend that you make yourselves ready for them. Preparation is the mother of success, after all. And to the surgeon currently looking for me... [He pauses, very briefly, as if considering] ...I'm sure I'll be seeing you very soon.

Did anyone else get much chance to talk to the locals in that port? I couldn't help but find it ironic that their afterlife consisted of a seemingly endless journey towards an ephemeral end point.

[Jim sounds more or less calm, but there's a slight sharpness to his tone, as if something about this port left him feeling... just kind of generally unhappy.]

When I died, I was expecting my entire existence to come to an end. I find it... troubling that apparently spending your time embarking on futile tasks and endless journeys is a running theme when it comes to what happens after death, instead. Still, I suppose this place makes a lot more sense as a surreal punishment, than as a genuine attempt at creating some kind of reformation process.

[He sighs a slight sigh, before adding:]

And I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that a chewed up dog toy doesn't actually have any known use when it comes to spaceship repair?