Rex had made friends with a freighter crew, buying enough rounds to get them all stinking drunk. Shortly before he called me, he managed to pilfer a keycard from the ship’s engineer while the guy was busy vomiting Atavarian whiskey into a wastebasket. Rex had concluded that it was more cost-effective to spend a few credits on booze and steal a cargo ship than get our ship repaired. I’d have tried to talk him out of it, but it was clear his mind was made up.
Leaving the crew in the bar, Rex bribed a guard and we sneaked aboard the cargo ship, the Raina Huebner. We had no idea what cargo was on board, but Rex figured that between the ship and whatever it was hauling, it was well worth the risk. Absconding with the Raina Huebner was so easy, in fact, that Rex started to have second thoughts.
“This was a bad idea,” Rex said.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “When the captain of this ship realizes—”
“No, no,” Rex grumbled. “Not that. I meant it was a bad idea to leave the Flagrante Delicto behind. I love that ship.”
“I understand, sir,” I said, “but we can’t very well—”
“We have to go back for it.”
I spent the next several minutes trying to argue Rex out of this course of action. This was, of course, futile. We turned the Raina Huebner around and docked again with the waystation. Amazingly, the crew had not yet noticed their ship had disappeared. I ran to the Flagrante Delicto, undocked it from the waystation, docked it with the Raina Huebner, and then joined Rex in the cockpit. We rocketed away from the waystation again.
“Where to now, sir?” I asked. The waystation was in orbit around a planet called Xagnon, which I understood to be a thriving commercial center. That would be the most obvious place to sell off our cargo, but of course that was the problem: Xagnon was the first place people would start looking for the Raina Huebner. No, we needed to get as far away from here as possible.
“Depends,” said Rex. “What do you think we’re shipping?”
“I haven’t a clue, sir. It could be anything. I suggest we wait until later to conduct an inventory.”
Rex nodded. “All right. Pick a direction at random. Someplace with a sizable population and a thriving criminal element. This is exciting, Sasha. We’re space pirates!”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I wasn’t sure absconding with a freighter qualified us as pirates, but at least Rex was in a good mood. Things seemed to be going our way for a change. I just had to rationalize a course away from this sector and we’d be home free.
As I’m sure you know, traveling between stars by conventional means requires crossing vast distances, and since it’s impossible to travel faster than the speed of light, moving even between two relatively close stars can easily take years. The solution to this problem, rationalized hypergeometry, was found in the late twenty-seventh century. It was actually well known by the twentieth century that Euclidean geometry is arbitrary, being only one possible way of describing the relations of objects in space. There are a theoretically infinite number of other geometries that all employ their own set of rules. The trick is to find a geometry in which the distance you want to traverse is significantly shorter than in Euclidean geometry. Essentially you reverse-engineer an entirely new set of geometric rules based on the trip you want to take, and then employ those rules for the duration of the trip.
If, for example, you wanted to travel from a point near the Xagnon system to the Schufnaasik system (a Euclidean distance of some eighty-six light-years), you would first posit the existence of a geometry in which these two star systems are some more manageable distance from each other – let’s say ten million kilometers, or about 1/100,000 of a light year. Starting with this axiom, you build a complete geometric system which is then input into your spaceship’s navigational system in place of Euclidean geometry. It generally takes several tries to find a suitable geometry. The navigational system then plots a pathway to your destination using this new geometry. This process is called “rationalizing a hypergeometric course.”
The only downside to this process is that it can take up to half an hour to find a suitable geometry and plot a course to your destination. During that time, you’re a sitting duck for anyone who is chasing you. I cranked up the engines to full blast so we could at least put some Euclidean space between us and the waystation while I rationalized our course. Lacking firm instructions from Rex, I’d decided to jump into an empty sector nearly a hundred light-years away with the goal of getting as far away from Xagnon as quickly as possible. As the Flagrante Delicto was docked with the Raina Huebner, it would come along for the ride.
I’d almost finished rationalizing the course when an alarm dinged, informing us that a message was coming in over standard hailing frequencies. I told the ship’s computer to patch it through. We heard a gruff voice intone:
“Captain and crew of the Raina Heuber. This is Captain Rubric Malgastar of the Chronic Lumbago speaking. Prepare to be boarded.”
I knew the name. Rubric Malgastar was a legendary pirate who roamed the galaxy in his fearsome ship, the Chronic Lumbago. No one who saw him lived to tell about it.
“Blast!” Rex cried. “They’ve found us. I told you we shouldn’t have gone back for the Flagrante Delicto.”
“Sir,” I said, “I don’t believe it’s the authorities threatening to board us.”
“Then who is it?” Rex asked.
A loud clang sounded as something impacted against our hull.
“Unless I’m mistaken, sir,” I said, “actual space pirates.”
Rex and I watched helplessly as the hatch opened and a crew of black-garbed ruffians streamed onto the bridge of the Raina Huebner. Most of them carried lazeguns or some other type of weapon. I noticed a few blackjacks, a couple of clubs, and even one scimitar. These guys were going all out.
Behind them strode a man of tremendous girth in a black outfit trimmed with orange fringe. His head was bald and several large gold earrings dangled from each ear. A robotic parrot perched on his left shoulder.
“Ahoy, mateys,” the man growled. “My name is Rubric Malgastar. And who might you be?”
“My name is Rex Nihilo,” said Rex. “As the rightful captain of the Renal Failure, I demand—”
“Raina Huebner,” I murmured to Rex.
“Raina Huebner?” Rex asked with a frown. “That sounds like some kind of horrible disease.” He shrugged and continued, “As I was saying, as the rightful captain of… this ship, I demand that you leave at once, or face the severest penalties of interstellar law.”
Malgastar burst into laughter. “Yer in no position to demand anything, my boy. Now I suggest ye round up the rest of yer crew. We’re takin’ over this ship.”
“Right,” said Rex. “You heard the man, Sasha. Summon the rest of the crew.”
“Sir?”
“Weren’t you almost finished summoning the crew when Mr. Malgastar and his friends showed up?”
“Oh,” I said, realizing what Rex was up to. “Yes. Yes, I was. Summoning the crew.” My programming prevents me from telling lies, but I’ve found ways around this. Sentence fragments being one of them.
I went back to the nav computer and began tapping keys. Fortunately I’d finished the rationalization in my head while the pirates were boarding; all I had to do is enter the rest of the sequence.
“What is your robot doing?” Malgastar growled.
“Summoning the crew,” Rex said. “Like you asked.”
“Is she using Morse code? What in Space is taking so long?”
“It’s a delicate operation,” Rex said. “Some of the crew members are sensitive.”
“And why is she using the nav computer?” one of the pirates asked.
“She what?” said Malgastar, who apparently wasn’t a particularly hands-on type of pirate. “Get away from that thing!”
But it was too late. I finished the sequence and submitted it. The ship’s systems absorbed the new geometric axioms and there was a sickening jolt as the Raina Huebner left Eucli
dean space. “Run!” cried Rex, his voice strangely warped by the temporal-spatial disturbance of the jump. I ran.
It wasn’t much of a diversion, but it was the only chance we had: as soon as the pirates realized we were the entire crew, they were undoubtedly going to kill us. I ran for the door of the bridge as lazegun blasts erupted around me. I exited the bridge into the adjoining corridor, with Rex right behind me. By some miracle, neither of us was vaporized.
We sprinted down the hall. A few meters behind us, the pirates burst into the hall as we rounded a corner. Our only hope was to reach the Flagrante Delicto. I turned right at a T in the corridor toward the bay where I’d parked our ship. As I did so, three pirates came around the corner ahead of us. So much for our only hope.
“Back!” I cried, turning to go back the way we’d come. Rex spun around and went down the left branch of the T. It was no use, though: we were cornered. The Raina Huebner was a good-sized ship, but there was no escape route besides the Flagrante Delicto. We could hide, but the pirates would find us eventually. Directly in front of me was the door to the cargo hold. I tapped a button and the door slid open. We ran inside and the door slid closed behind us.
“Lock that door!” Rex cried.
“I don’t think it locks from this side,” I said.
“Then punch it!”
“Sir?”
“Galactic Vessel Design Code Regulation 2884-b: all self-opening doors must fail in the closed position. Punch the control panel!”
“Sir, my hands are designed for fine motor operations. If I—”
“PUNCH IT!”
I punched the panel. Sparks flew and a jolt of electricity shot through my body. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back in the cargo hold. I smelled ozone and burnt plastic.
“Ha!” Rex cried. “You did it!”
I heard pounding and yelling through the door. Getting to my feet, I saw that my right hand had fused into a lump of charred metal. I sighed. “You see, sir,” I said, holding up my hand. “This is why I—”
But Rex had disappeared.
“Sir?” I said, turning to face the rows of crates in the cargo hold. The hold was the size of a small gymnasium. Rex was trying to get one of the crates open.
“Sasha, get over here!” he yelled.
Still jittery from shorting out the control panel, I walked uneasily toward Rex. “Sir,” I said, holding out my arm, “just look what that did to my hand. It’s useless!”
“Give me that,” Rex said, grabbing my arm. He planted his left foot on my hip and yanked. The joint gave at the elbow and Rex fell to the floor clutching my forearm to his chest. He got to his feet and began pounding on the crate with my fist.
“Sir!” I cried. “My arm!”
“Enough with the dramatics, Sasha,” Rex said. “You said yourself you weren’t using it.” He pounded on the crate three more times. “Eh, this thing is useless,” he said, and tossed it aside. I watched wistfully as it clanged on the metal floor and rolled away.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
Rex pointed at the label on the crate. It read:
LARVITON SMALL ARMS COMPANY
“Any second, those pirates are going to blast through that door,” Rex said. “When that happens, I’d prefer to have a weapon in hand.”
I stared at him for a moment. “What, no joke about being unarmed?” I said, waggling my stump irritably in his direction.
“I thought it was implied,” Rex said. “Help me get this crate open.”
Grumbling to myself, I took a step forward. Fortunately, I still had my screwdriver appendage, which was on my left hand. I unscrewed the four screws holding the lid on the crate. Rex pried the lid off and we looked inside.
“Huh,” Rex said, perusing the contents. “I guess I should have seen that coming.”
The crate was full of small arms.
Rex picked one up and held it up to my shoulder. It reached almost to my elbow. The robots these arms were designed for couldn’t be much more than a meter in height.
“I wish I had a cute little robot,” Rex said wistfully. “I’d name him Donny.” He examined some of the other crates nearby. “Oh, look! A crate of small heads! And another one of legs! Sasha, do you know what this means? We could build Donny!”
“Impossible, sir,” I said.
“Why’s that?”
“No small feet.”
“Blast,” Rex groused. A loud boom sounded on the other side of the door, and Rex seemed to suddenly remember we were about to be vaporized by pirates. “Now what?” he asked.
“Surrender?” I suggested.
“And give up all this?” Rex asked, waving the tiny arm at the rows of crates in front of him.
“I don’t see any other option, sir.”
Rex rubbed his chin. “What we need is leverage. What if we threaten to open that door and dump all the cargo?” He was gesturing toward the massive cargo door that made up most of the far wall.
“Threatening to suck everything in the cargo bay into the infinite vacuum of space would be a great idea,” I said, “except that we are in the cargo bay.”
“Hmm,” Rex said. There was another bang against the door.
“Hold on,” I said. “I think I’m having an idea.”
“Stop that!” Rex cried. “We don’t have time for you to shut down.”
But I was pretty sure there was an idea hovering somewhere near my conscious thought processes. “Help me with these arms, sir!” I said. I grabbed a handful of the little arms from the crate and tossed them onto the floor.
“What in Space are you doing?” Rex demanded.
“I’m not sure, sir,” I said. “I’m right on the verge of having an idea, but I don’t dare think about it too closely.” I kept grabbing arms and tossing them to the floor.
“Is it at least a good idea?” Rex asked.
“No way to be sure,” I replied, tossing another handful of arms.
Rex hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and began tossing arms to the floor.
“That should do it,” I said, when the crate was about half empty.
“Now what?” Rex asked.
“Grab that thousand credit note on the bottom,” I said.
Rex stuck his head eagerly into the crate and I gave him a shove. He fell inside and I slammed the lid. While he banged on the lid and cursed at me, I put the screws back in. Then, still doing my best not to give any thought to what I was doing, I grabbed my arm off the floor and ran to the control panel for the cargo door. Just as I reached it, the door we had entered through blew open, crashing to the floor. Pirates rushed into the hold.
“The robot is over there!” one of them shouted. “Shoot her!”
A chunk of wall exploded over my head. I pressed the open button on the control panel, but the door remained closed. A red AIR PRESSURE warning light flashed. Another lazegun blast struck the wall to my right. I studied the control panel frantically, trying to determine if there was a way to override the pressure sensor. There didn’t seem to be. As I considered using my remaining hand to punch the panel, I found it difficult to avoid the conclusion that the thing I was trying not to think about was a Very Bad Idea.
Suddenly the control panel exploded in front of me. I turned to run and became aware of air rushing past me. The cargo door was sliding upward.
“Hey!” yelled one of the pirates behind me. “That’s a violation of Galactic Vessel Design Code Reg—”
I didn’t hear the rest of it because I was sucked out of the cargo door into the vacuum.
Chapter Six
Space is big. Really, really big.
I’d heard the Sp’ossel spiel a hundred times, but you get a new appreciation for the immensity of space when you’re in the middle of it with nothing to hold onto but your own severed arm. Space is also ridiculously cold and completely devoid of air, of course, but it was the vastness that bothered me the most. That and the blue-faced pirates floating past, their faces contorted
in silent screams.
I shuddered and forced myself to look away. I felt a little bad for them, but they were, after all, space pirates. Death by asphyxiation in the vast reaches of space is the third leading cause of death for space pirates, right after stab wounds and syphilis.
Having no need to breathe and being able to function at temperatures as low as absolute zero, I was in no immediate danger. Rex would be okay until the air in his crate ran out. Unfortunately, at present I had no idea where Rex’s crate was and no way of getting to him if I did.
A hundred meters or so in front of me was the Raina Huebner. The Flagrante Delicto was docked somewhere on the opposite side of it. Above me and to my right, connected to the Raina Huebner by an articulated airtight docking corridor, was the pirates’ ship, the Chronic Lumbago. The Chronic Lumbago was a pretty big ship, nearly the size of the Raina Huebner. From my current vantage point it looked more dilapidated than fearsome, but maybe it was a matter of perspective. Suspended all around me were the hundreds of crates and other containers that had filled the Raina Huebner’s hold. Inside one of them was a very angry Rex Nihilo.
The containers and I were gradually moving away from the hold and from each other. The nearest one was about ten meters below me, but it might as well have been ten light-years. I have no onboard jet propulsion system, probably because I was never intended to operate in freefall. I was fairly certain that just being out here voided my warranty.
I had an idea of how to get to the crate, but I shut down three times while I was trying to come up with it, and meanwhile the crate continued to recede into the blackness. Finally I managed to remain conscious long enough to execute my plan, the key element of which was hurling my arm into the void. Thus disarmed, I craned my head back toward the crate. Thanks to Newton’s Third Law, the crate was now growing steadily larger in my vision. I had misjudged the angle a bit, but by stretching my left leg as far as it would go I managed to catch the edge of the crate with my toe. The crate tipped toward me and I caught it with my remaining arm. Once I had a solid grip, I got out my screwdriver and opened the crate. It was packed full of lazepistols. Of course.
Aye, Robot (A Rex Nihilo Adventure) (Starship Grifters Book 2) Page 4
