Salvage Merc One: The Daedalus System

by Jake Bible

  “I know where it is,” I interrupted. “I just don’t believe it. Show me any hidden, off-grid wormhole portals.”

  “There are no off-grid, hidden wormhole portals in the Daedalus System,” the navigation system stated. I could have sworn there was some snark happening with that voice. But I could have been wrong.

  “Ask it about the planet,” Mgurn said. “Ask it how to get to that specific planet, not the entire system.”

  I zoomed back into a direct view of the system and isolated the planet. I froze the image so that all the orbiting and spinning stopped then I tapped on the specific planet.

  “This one,” I said. “How do I get to this one using a wormhole portal?”

  “You do not,” the navigation system stated.

  “Then how do I get to this planet at all?” I asked.

  “Please state the password for access,” the navigation system said.

  “Well, that’s foing new,” I said.

  “It has never asked for a password before,” Mgurn said.

  “I know, buddy, that’s why I said it was new,” I responded.

  I thought for a long while then said, “Minotaur.”

  “Invalid password,” the system replied.

  I thought longer, took another guess, was shot down, thought even longer, said another guess, got shot down there, then just started rattling off every single word that came into my head. Mgurn joined in after I had blurted out the fiftieth or sixtieth attempt.

  Finally, I leaned back in my seat, my hands firmly planted in my lap so I didn’t punch something, which was a distinct possibility as I felt the angry bull part of me start to get snorty.

  “I could ask the Bosses,” I said.

  “They will not answer,” Mgurn said. “They made that clear in the holo. This is for you to figure out.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to figure out some random password?” I asked. “There are infinite possibilities. You’d think they’d make it easy. It’s not like this ship can be taken over or hacked by someone else. It’s dialed in to my biometrics only, same as with all the Salvage Merc Ones before me.”

  I thought some more and almost gave up. Almost.

  “No,” I whispered. “I swear, if this is right I’m going to punch a Boss the next time I see those asshats.”

  I cleared my throat and in a clear, distinct voice, I said, “The Password.”

  “Thank you,” the navigation system responded. “Full access granted.”

  “Son of a gump!” I yelled with a mix of triumph and frustrated rage.

  “What would you like to see?” the navigation system asked.

  “A direct wormhole portal to the Daedalus System,” I said.

  “There is no direct portal to the Daedalus System,” the navigation system responded. “But there is a quantum backdoor.”

  “Yeah, I have no idea what that is,” I said. “Mgurn?”

  “I am at a loss as well, Joe,” Mgurn said.

  “Nav system, please educate me on what a quantum backdoor is,” I ordered. “Make it the least wordy explanation, please. I’m not in the mood for a bunch of technical babble.”

  “A quantum backdoor uses the infinite possibility that if you want to get somewhere then perhaps you are already there,” the navigation system said. “This is close to impossible to achieve.”

  “Then why suggest it?” I asked. Bull man was getting grumpy. I felt a heat rise in my chest. “Just tell me how the hell we get to that planet in the Daedalus System before I smash your cybernetics to pieces.”

  “There is one planet in the galaxy that appears to be highly susceptible to quantum mechanics and its effects,” the navigation system said. “There is no logical reason as to why, but more occurrences of quantum backdoors have occurred on this planet than anywhere else. Ever.”

  It put a special emphasis on the “ever.”

  “And this planet would be called…?” My neck was stiff, and I cracked it left then right. The sounds were like cannon blasts in the bridge. Mgurn even jumped.

  “Earth,” the navigation system said. “Earth is enveloped in a unique quantum field that allows this ship to travel anywhere in the universe almost instantaneously.”

  “Well, that would have been good to know when I started this job,” I said.

  “You mean anywhere in the galaxy, right?” Mgurn asked.

  “Anywhere in the universe,” the navigation system said. “My words were clearly stated.”

  Total snark there. No way to miss that.

  “However, there is considerable risk,” the navigation system said. “Complete and total annihilation is just as likely as reaching your desired destination. It is what is known as a coin toss.”

  “I call heads,” I said and looked back at Mgurn. “Always call heads.”

  “Statistically, calling heads or tails has the same chance,” Mgurn said.

  “Yet heads always wins,” I said.

  “That is factually incorrect,” Mgurn said, “but not worth arguing over.”

  “Earth,” I said. “Why does it have to be Earth? That place blows space chunks so bad.”

  I leaned forward.

  “Show me the point on Earth most likely to give me the best results,” I said.

  “That is easy,” the navigation system said. An image appeared on the view screen. I gulped and shivered at the sight. “It is even large enough to fly this ship through.”

  “Joe?” Mgurn asked, his voice a little shaky. “Is that the massive iron door you were talking about?”

  “That’s the one,” I said. “Yay?”

  “A course is plotted to Earth, if you would like to depart,” the navigation system said.

  “I really wouldn’t like to depart, but I don’t have a choice,” I said. “Send the same course to Mgurn’s ship.”

  “That cannot be done,” the navigation system responded.

  “Uh, yeah, it can,” I countered. “Just foing do it.”

  “That cannot be done,” the navigation system repeated.

  “Why the fo not?” I snapped.

  “The course is only for this ship,” the navigation system said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The course is only for this ship,” it repeated.

  I slammed a fist down on the console in front of me and several warnings beeped in response.

  “Fo you,” I snarled. I took a couple of deep breaths and stood up to face Mgurn. “You can follow me. Earth isn’t off limits. It’s a crapass wasteland, but not officially off limits. Just stay tight when we get there, and I’ll lead you to the door.”

  “The course is only for this ship,” the navigation system said.

  “Shut up!” I barked. It did.

  “Is that wise?” Mgurn asked. “For us to split up?”

  “We’ve done it before,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

  “It worries me, is all,” Mgurn said.

  “You’re Leforian,” I replied. “You’re always worried.”

  “This creates more worry,” Mgurn responded.

  “Well, stop it,” I said. “Your worry makes me worry, and I don’t want to worry right now. I want to get on with it and find Alya Horne’s soul. Our ships are ready to go, so go get in yours and follow me to earth.”

  Mgurn started to protest, but I held up a finger to stop him. Normally, it would have been a symbolic gesture, since Mgurn never shuts up no matter how much I ask, but the gesture became far from symbolic. He shut up for a good five seconds. We both did.

  “Joe? There is something wrong with your hand,” Mgurn said, finally.

  “No crud,” I whispered.

  My hand wasn’t glowing that time. Instead, it was fusing. I should have had five fingers, just like all normal humans. Sure, I wasn’t exactly normal anymore, but five fingers is what I expected to see. What was in front of my face was a hand with three normal fingers -pinky, ring finger, middle finger- and an index finger that had fused with my thumb. The nails of
both were way bigger than they should have been and wrapped all the way around the tips.

  “That’s my trigger finger,” I said as I stared at my hand. “Mgurn, my thumb and my trigger finger are getting it on!”

  “I believe you are growing hooves,” Mgurn said. His eyes were on my other hand, the one held down to my side. “This is puzzling since all depictions of the Minotaur show it with normal hands, but hoofed feet. Hmmmm.”

  “The depictions were foing wrong!” I shouted. “How the hell am I going to get anything done if my hands turn into hooves?”

  “It appears you will need some assistance,” Mgurn said.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” I growled.

  “No, I am not loving it,” Mgurn said. “But I do appreciate the timing of it all.”

  “Fo you, Mgurn,” I snapped and nodded at the bridge door. “Go get your gear. I’ll let you fly since I’m going all Minotaur now.”

  Six

  “Remember back when being a number was simple?” I said as our ship punched through the wormhole portal at the far end of the Sol System. “Back when we salvaged junk and scrap? I miss those days. That’s why I signed on with the SMC, to go find derelict space trash and get paid for it. No crazy galactic conspiracies or spooky artifacts being rammed up my butt.”

  “The artifact was not rammed up your butt,” Mgurn said as we passed Neptune. He was focused on the view screen and the view of the massive gas planets before us. “And being a number was never simple. Not for you.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Trouble,” Mgurn said. “Even the simple jobs there was always trouble.”

  He glanced over at me, and I was not a fan of the look on his face.

  “Trouble follows you, Joe,” he said. “Even before we met, you were trouble. I have seen your Galactic Fleet file. Your record as a Marine was inconsistent, at best.”

  “Whoa, you saw my file?” I asked. I pointed at him with my right hoof. “Not cool, Mgurn. That crud is private.”

  “The Bosses gave it to me,” Mgurn said. “When I became your assistant.”

  I stared at my hand. Yeah, it was full hoof. No more fingers, no more hand at all. A bull’s hoof with one wicked-looking toe-nail or whatever the hell you call the end of a hoof. I don’t know, I’m not a space rancher. What do I know from hooves?

  “You mean after I turned into Salvage Merc One?” I asked. “That’s when they gave you my file, right?”

  “No, before that,” Mgurn said. “I was warned you might be a handful. So they gave me your file to read.”

  “And why am I just now hearing about this?” I asked. My face felt hot, and I had to swallow down a surge of anger. “We’re supposed to trust each other completely, Mgurn. Keeping crud like that from me makes the trusting kinda hard.”

  “Most of my life I have had bad luck,” Mgurn said. “Unfortunate events have followed me around since as long as I could remember. I never mentioned the file because I did not find it relevant. To be finally paired with a Salvage Merc was all I cared about.”

  He turned and looked at me as we zipped by Saturn.

  “You were the thirteenth number I was paired with,” Mgurn said. “I was fired within the first week from the previous assignments. There may have been a couple of incidents that caused minor fires. Perhaps a weapon implosion or two. Then you came along, and I saw there was someone that may have worse luck than mine. It turned out to be true. So here we are.”

  “I’m lucky thirteen, eh?” I laughed. “Great. Wonderful. Awesome. Thirteen? Wow. That had to sting.”

  “You had eight assistants turn down the assignment with you before I arrived,” Mgurn said. Mars was a quick blip, and Mgurn slowed the ship as we came in for the final approach to Earth. “I would not be pointing fingers…er, a hoof, at me.”

  “Terpigcrud,” I snapped. “You’re the only assistant I’ve had. There were not eight before you.”

  “No, you are not understanding me,” Mgurn said. “The others turned you down before they could be officially assigned. There would be no reason for you to know that unless the Bosses told you. Which they obviously did not.”

  “Eight assistants turned me down?” I mumbled. “That sucks. I didn’t even know assistants could do that.”

  “Of course we can,” Mgurn replied. “We are not slaves. We are employees of the SMC just as anyone else. Forcing an assistant to take a position they do not want would be detrimental to not only the assistant, but to the number and the SMC as a whole. The relationship between a Salvage Merc and his or her assistant is crucial to the development of that Salvage Merc. Starting off on the wrong hoof would not be a good idea.”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious,” I said and shook my hoof in his face. “Just foing funny as all hell.”

  “I could not resist,” Mgurn said.

  “Yeah, well try,” I said. “Or you and my hooves will become very intimate, very soon.”

  “Will you attempt to trample me?” Mgurn asked, his mandibles widening into the most annoying smirk I have ever seen. “I should refrain from making sudden and loud noises in case you decide to stampede.”

  “Not funny,” I growled.

  “You know, there is a planet that has an event every year where fools can run with wild bulls,” Mgurn continued. “If being Salvage Merc One does not work out for you, maybe you can get hired on there. It would make an excellent fallback plan.”

  “Keep it up, buddy. Just keep it up,” I said.

  The grey blech that was Earth loomed in the view screen. I pointed at it with my hoof then quickly lowered my arm as Mgurn’s smirk widened. I would have gotten more pissed at him, but that’s when I felt the change in my arm. I pushed up the sleeve of my uniform and looked at the new muscle structure.

  “Damn,” I said.

  Mgurn glanced over as he brought our ship into a slow orbit around the useless pile of rock called Earth.

  “Oh, my,” he said. “We may need to consider changing your diet.”

  “Ha, foing ha,” I said. “To what? Hay and clover?”

  “No, I am being serious, Joe,” Mgurn said. “Muscle mass increase and definition like that will deplete your amino acid stores quickly. Bulls may be herbivores, but you are not a true bull. You are a man that is becoming the Minotaur. We will need to increase your protein intake considerably to account for the new musculature.”

  “Oh,” I said, taking a couple deep breaths to calm myself down. I was about ready to feed him a hoof sandwich. “That makes sense. Sorry.”

  “We may also want to consider using pharmaceuticals to maintain a more even emotional state,” Mgurn said. “The mood swings could become an issue in the field.”

  “Gorging myself on protein smoothies, I’m cool with,” I said. “But putting me on Mama’s little yellow pills, I am not. We’ll deal with the mood swings.”

  “Yes, I suppose we will,” Mgurn said. The navigation system beeped, and Mgurn checked the coordinates on the console. “We are directly above our destination. I will start the descent shortly. We will need to enter at a shallow angle and circumnavigate the planet. There appears to be quite the planet-wide storm raging down there.”

  “Great,” I said. “I blame you. It’s your bad luck that gave us bad weather.”

  “The impossibility of that statement does not require an answer,” Mgurn said. I waited a half-second. “But, I feel you are being particularly nasty of late, I will respond with this.”

  He lifted both of his right hands and flipped me off. That made me laugh.

  “See,” I chuckled. “Keep doing stuff like that and there is no need for me to pill pop my way to happiness.”

  “We shall see,” Mgurn said. “And it wouldn’t be pills, but an injector.”

  “I’m sure it would be,” I said. “Except it’s not happening. Just take us down there, and let’s see what this magical backdoor entrance looks like.”

  Mgurn nodded and began our descent into Earth’s u
pper atmosphere.

  If you have ever been on that smog planet in the SoCal System then you know exactly what it’s like to drop through Earth’s atmosphere. It isn’t like parting clouds of water vapor. No, the upper atmosphere of Earth is a soot-filled, gunk-choked, rotten marshmallow mess. The view screen did its best to filter out the obstructions caused by the particulates, but even its processor had a hard time rendering a clear view.

  It took us several minutes before we had angled down out of the upper atmosphere and were in the lower atmosphere where we found out that “planet-wide storm” was an understatement. The place was a mass of lightning, hail, and thunder so powerful that we could hear the storm rage around us even through the shields, hulls, and sound dampening the ship had.

  Dirty hail balls the size of my head raced at us as Mgurn piloted us downward to the surface. The wind was so strong that even the lightning was shooting sideways. I mentioned this to Mgurn, and he just muttered something about my complete ignorance of meteorological physics. Whatever.

  It took us over an hour to get below the storm. When we finally did, we found ourselves above a black sea. It was night where we were and that made the Earth seem even gloomier. If that was possible.

  “Directly ahead is an island,” Mgurn said. “That is our destination.” He glanced at the navigation system and frowned. “Or should be.”

  “Should be?” I asked.

  “Yes, should be,” Mgurn said. “But I am not picking it up on the scanners.”

  He brought the ship lower, and a warning klaxon bleeped shrilly. Mgurn switched it off and kept us flying only a few meters above the surface of the polluted sea. We flew in silence until we could make out the faint edges of a coastline.

  “We have passed the island’s location,” Mgurn said. He banked the ship in a wide turn. “I will bring us around for another look. The Earth has been known to confuse scanner readings due to the severe radiation and magnetic interference.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been here before, buddy,” I said. “I know the drill.”

  Last time we were on Earth, we infiltrated a data storage bunker. We had to fight a herd of mutant cows with scorpion tails that shot barbs at us. Earth is such a lovely place. No idea why the human race fled from it like rats leaving a sinking ship.