Space Relics (Galactic Archaeology Book 1)

by Duke, Nathan

  “Informing a computer about her status and her duty to serve her captain isn’t racism,” he said. She’d done it again: making him argue against his will. That woman was impossible, and she was way worse than working with a heartbroken ex. Rick took a deep breath. He was on a mission; it wasn’t the time to lose his patience.

  “A captain, huh? Have you noticed that captains need to captain a ship to be called captains? The last time I checked, you’d lost yours with all my stuff in it. Your current ship is a transport shuttle, and that doesn’t qualify you for the rank of commander, of master, or even of lieutenant.” Rick couldn’t see her, but she was definitely grinning when she blabbered those words. And the worst thing was that she was rather funny. Rick couldn’t smile at her sass, though, or he wouldn’t get rid of it.

  “Okay, I’m a common sailor,” Rick said. “Now would you mind helping me get the Argonaut back?”

  “You aren’t technically a—”

  “Amy!”

  “Okay, okay.” She giggled on the other side of the intercom. She was learning to act more and more human, but she was turning into an annoying kind of human who enjoyed irritating others. A fairly dangerous pastime. She cleared her throat and hacked into the port’s wireless webcams to see through their eyes.

  Images of the area appeared on Rick’s glasses. Lord Baylor talked with a mechanic and gestured broadly. The mechanic stooped down low to show his lower rank, but he rubbed his hands with greed. From his small and round head and short nose, he was originally from the outer rim of the Coalition, one of the few who’d managed to escape totalitarianism. He’d probably bribed and coerced his way out of Earth; nobody who played by the rules ever managed to get anywhere if they were from the Coalition.

  Amy turned on the long-range microphones and hacked into fridges, fax machines, security cameras, and the classic intelligent devices that nobody ever bothered to secure. Some people enjoyed fruitful careers by hacking into those devices and stealing rich fools’ banking details, but not many rich fools remained rich for long. For now, Rick only needed to hear what they said.

  “You’re robbing me,” Lord Baylor said with his deep and loud voice. The sound was way too loud and buzzed in Rick’s ear. Amy fixed the volume and apologized.

  “This ship needs many repairs, my lord.” The mechanic walked around the Argonaut and glanced at Lord Baylor to measure his reactions. He was doing the dance to make sure that he got the highest price that the lord would agree to pay. “If you hadn’t had your… accident, she’d have failed within a year. I’m doing you a favor, you see? You’d have had to pay more for the same repairs if she’d broken on a different planet.” He marked the word accident but made no comments about it. In certain worlds, people never fought or killed each other; everything was a matter of chance and accidents were frequent.

  The men continued bartering, unaware that Rick was watching them.

  Rick only needed to run towards them, get rid of both of them, take the keys to the Argonaut, and run. If things got nasty, he could always use Lord Baylor as a hostage. Easy as pie, right?

  Amy cleared her throat exaggeratedly to call his attention.

  “If you have anything to say,” Rick told Amy through the intercom, “say it now, because I’m jumping into action.”

  “Are you sure about this, Richard?” Amy said. “The odds aren’t in your favor.”

  “It isn’t as if I have much choice,” Rick said. “If he catches me, I’ll end up working in the mines on an abandoned planet with a hostile climate. If I don’t try, I’ll end up broke, and broke people end up in the mines for one reason or another. It doesn’t make a difference.”

  “There’s a high incidence of disappearances amongst Lord Baylor’s colleagues. I’d even say that it’s too frequent to be based on chance alone.”

  “Are you telling me that he gets rid of the people he doesn’t like? Why didn’t you say this sooner?”

  “I did tell you,” Amy said with that annoying know-it-all voice of hers. “Why do you think that I was against working with him?”

  “You’re against drinking, flying too quickly, and skydiving, and you get mad at me whenever I suggest disconnecting the autopilot. How could I know that this suggestion made sense?”

  “Those objections are founded! Drinking affects your neurons and slows down your thought processes, flying too quickly makes it more likely to make a lethal mistake, and skydiving is far riskier than living a normal life. And do you think that the autopilot is there for decoration purposes? Humans can’t think quickly enough when they’re aboard a fighter at full speed. Your instincts are inadequate, and that’s why engineers have added navigation computers to your ships.”

  Rick didn’t like to risk his life, but relying on engineers who considered themselves infallible wasn’t a good idea. They made mistakes, messed things up more often than not, and they always ended up killing people like Rick. It wasn’t about not trusting technology, but about not trusting cheap and untested technology. Rick preferred to rely on his skills and to do everything the way it had been done for generations. If his great grandparents had survived the time of manually controlled airplanes and spaceships, why was it risky for anyone to stick to that lifestyle?

  “In fact,” she continued, “those risks are far more unjustified than this one. Right now, you don’t have many other options, but you do have a choice when you board a fighter.”

  “Awesome,” Rick said, “if this is as risky as flying a fighter, I’ll captain the Argonaut before dinner.”

  “I haven’t said that it was less risky, Richard.” She spoke slowly and paused in every word to make it clear that he was nothing but an imperfect human being. “Lord Baylor has never been accused of killing his colleagues, but he is wealthy enough to bribe a jury. Even if we record everything, he’d be able to walk out of danger without any consequences. Lucas is wounded and receiving treatment, and you are one man. They’re probably a dozen, even more. Unless you let me take the shuttle to the hangar and shoot at them, you don’t stand many chances of getting out of there alive and free.”

  “Thanks for the motivation,” Rick said, “but I’ll test my chances. I wouldn’t get anything done if I was as pessimistic as you are. The world isn’t doomed, and the whole justice system isn’t corrupt. If I’m killed, let’s hope that Lord Baylor will spend at least a month in jail.”

  “The world is corrupt, Richard.” She paused like whenever she disagreed with something. “And the sentence for murdering someone isn’t a month of imprisonment; it is a life term, or at least 20 years if there’s a mitigating factor.”

  One of those days, Rick was going to have to explain to Amy that not everything had to be taken literally.

  He took a deep breath. Time to act. “I have my gun. He won’t expect me.”

  “Your gun is broken, Richard.” Amy’s words were tinted with nervousness. “It will be ineffective if you try to shoot at someone.”

  “Yes, but they don’t know,” Rick said. And besides, if he had to take his gun out, stunning one or two of Lord Baylor’s gorillas was going to be the least of his problems. He needed to be quick and to keep out of trouble.

  If he started shooting, he was going to end up with the whole port shooting at him. He would’ve been happy with so much action if he’d had a lighter dinner, but he didn’t want to risk getting an indigestion like Lucas’. Stomach-related problems were always unpleasant.

  Chapter 6

  Aristocrats were easy to predict, especially when they were in a port that didn’t have as many amenities as their home starbases. The only place Lord Baylor would sleep in was either the Argonaut or the most expensive suite. He wasn’t used to the Argonaut and he didn’t know if there were secondary security systems that could attack him in his sleep, so Rick only needed to wait for him in the local mayor’s home. Lord Baylor was going to pressure him onto lending him his house, and the mayor wouldn’t have the guts to say no. After all, who could say no to a lord w
ho could crush anyone with his little finger?

  Breaking into the mayor’s home was easy: Rick only needed a couple of digital lock picks, a pair of silent sneakers, and a bit of luck. While he waited, he tasted everything in the mayor’s liquor cabinet and his imported snacks. They weren’t more than overpriced rubbish that anyone could buy on Earth, but these came with designer boxes. Real aristocrats never bought any of those, but the mayor tried too hard to look wealthy.

  Lord Baylor didn’t take long to arrive. The door clicked, and Rick jumped from his seat and stuck his back to the wall. The lord entered and inspected the room around him with a half-sneer. He was forcing the richest man on the port to sleep outside of his own house, but it still wasn’t enough for him.

  Rick walked behind him and pressed his malfunctioning gun against one of the lord’s temples. “I’m pleased to see you again, Lord Baylor,” he said. “Next time, we need to part on friendlier terms to save us the uncomfortable reencounter.” He couldn’t stop himself from smirking; catching a nobleman by surprise had to be a new one. The man hadn’t even seen it coming.

  “Richard Lewis.” Lord Baylor’s voice was tense, but way more relaxed than he should’ve been, given the circumstances. “I didn’t expect to see you again… so soon.”

  “I had to leave the expedition in a hurry. My main benefactor tried to rob our greatest finding and wanted to get us all killed. I’ve had to chase after him. A pretty tiring and frustrating experience, if you ask me.”

  Sometimes, dealing with the upper classes felt completely natural, even when they were about to get uncivilized and violent. Life amongst the lower classes was simple and direct: everyone said and did whatever they thought. The upper classes had requirements of behavior and manners even when they were with their mortal enemies. It was tiring at times, but a victory tasted much sweeter when your enemy had to bow at you and greet you politely. Seeing Lord Baylor’s tense jaw and uncomfortable expression wouldn’t have been the same if he’d showed his fear.

  “There’s been a complete misunderstanding,” Lord Baylor said, trying to keep still. “Did you think that I’d run to take the artifact without paying? No, not at all. I was going to get a professional valuation to pay you faster.”

  “Don’t bother,” Rick said. “You won’t convince me that you’re anything but a stealing rat. But don’t worry; I wouldn’t kill a nobleman. I’ve just come to get what belongs to me, and I’ll be happy to leave.”

  “Richard, I think I should warn you of something,” Amy said through the intercom.

  Just when he was starting to enjoy his victory? Not likely. She was always far too pessimistic; she didn’t get that humans needed to taste their success every once in a while.

  “Amy, I’m a bit busy right now,” Rick said. Lord Baylor glanced at him, confused. “No, not you. I’m talking to someone else.” He shook his head to turn the intercom back on. “Why don’t you wait for a while and I’ll get back to you?”

  Amy had always been too careful with risks and probabilities of success. To her, having a 10% chance of being unsuccessful meant that it wasn’t worth it. If Rick had stayed at home whenever risks were involved, he’d have starved on Earth. He had to jump in and take action; his debts weren’t going to pay themselves.

  “This is far too dangerous to stand aside and wait,” she insisted. “You’re risking your life and the mission’s success. You’re unlikely to get the Argonaut back if you continue to—”

  A cold knife pressed against Rick’s neck, sending a shiver down his body.

  Damn it. It had seemed too easy to be true.

  “I’ve told you,” Amy continued through the intercom. “You’d have an excuse if I hadn’t told you, but I have. Why don’t you ever listen? And now you’re in trouble again, and I’m not going to say anything apart from I told you.”

  As helpful as always.

  Well, at least Rick was only facing two men. It could’ve been worse.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m afraid that you might find your quest more difficult than you expected,” Lord Baylor said, trying to push Rick’s arm aside. Rick held the gun firmly against him. It was the only leverage he had to delay the unavoidable.

  Behind Rick, the mayor had turned out to be less trusting than the lord. With that move, he’d earned several brownie points from Lord Baylor, enough to move him up a step in the otherwise static social ladder. Nothing like performing special services for a nobleman to get a proper reward. And what was better than saving his life?

  It was a pity that Rick’s corpse was going to be the mayor’s stepping stone. He wasn’t good at bleeding, and he didn’t like it either.

  Rick hadn’t seen much action in years. Back when he’d been on Earth, people had always threatened him with knives, guns, and all sorts of creative weapons. He’d left Earth a long time ago, and he’d lost practice. If only he’d brought a proper gun, he’d be able to stun them, or to try to get away with his head still attached to his shoulders.

  “You’ve become very quiet, Lewis,” Lord Baylor said with a light chuckle. “All because you have a gun that doesn’t work and we’ve caught you off-guard.” He pushed Rick’s arm aside and Rick lowered the gun. It was broken; there wasn’t much he could do. “Is it that you expected to defeat me so easily? Such a pity… Capable of finding a lost tomb and an invaluable artifact, but reckless and far too ambitious for your own good.” He walked around the room, inspecting the image cycles in the holographic frames. He ran his finger along the shelves to check for dust and frequently glanced back at Rick to enjoy the situation. “I wonder what your friends will say once they read that you weren’t happy with your expedition’s failure, so you set fire to the whole planet, killed your workers, and got drunk before crashing your transport shuttle against an uninhabited asteroid.”

  A nice story, but nobody was going to tell it if Rick had a say in it.

  A knife to his neck, an inexperienced fighter holding it, and a large man on the other side of the room. There was just about enough space for a hand to get between the mayor’s elbow and Rick’s neck. Enough to stop him from hurting anyone.

  Neither of the men were professional fighters, but the mayor was probably used to getting into occasional fights in taverns. Noblemen spent their days sparring, but their teachers were in awe of their rank and didn’t dare to teach them properly.

  “Tell me,” Lord Baylor said. “Would you like to crash your ship against an asteroid, or would you rather die in space?”

  Okay, that wasn’t the time to think about ways to die. Rick shrugged and started to raise his arms. Lord Baylor’s grin broadened with his perceived victory.

  With a swift move, Rick placed an arm between the mayor’s arm and his neck and used the other arm to elbow his nose. He immobilized the knife hand and turned around to kick his stomach, then his lower guard. The mayor bent forward in pain and Rick threw the knife away, then punched him in the head and knocked him down. He ran towards Lord Baylor and tried to kick him too.

  The lord blocked him and his eyes widened with the adrenaline. He turned around and opened a drawer to fetch something.

  A gun!

  Rick tried to hit him again, but the lord blocked it. Rick grabbed a chair from the room and threw it at the lord to buy some time. He ran out as fast as he could. His breath echoed in his ears, but there was no time to rest.

  He reached the door, and a piercing pain spread from his shoulder through the rest of his body, followed by a loud bang. He didn’t need to check; he’d been hit, and it wasn’t by a gun in stun mode.

  Rick opened the door and headed for the suburbs to lose the lord. Warm blood trickled down his shoulder. The pain barely let him move.

  He kept looking back, but Lord Baylor wouldn’t risk following him in case he had reinforcements somewhere. Lucky.

  Once Rick had reached a small alley in one of the quieter regions of the port, he turned on the intercom. He tried to catch his breath and leaned his back on the wall t
o get some oxygen to his brain.

  Amy didn’t wait for him to speak. “I told you it was a bad idea,” she said.

  “I need help,” Rick managed to say. He was tired, his eyelids weighed too much, and he needed to sleep for two days.

  “Of course you need help, you need a mental therapist,” she said. “What kind of man breaks into a nobleman’s house with a broken gun and expects to survive? I don’t know who gave you your captain’s license, but they should be more careful. You’ve been reckless. Can’t you see that they could’ve killed you?”

  “Thank you for the lecture, but I’m hurt. Can you keep complaining after you’ve sewed me up?”

  “I’ll take the shuttle there,” she said, “but don’t think, even for a minute, that I won’t let you know what I think of your infallible plans.”

  That was Amy: ruthless and unstoppable whenever someone didn’t follow her suggestions. Rick chuckled and his shoulder hurt even more. He groaned in pain, and Amy continued complaining and reprimanding him as the shuttle approached him. She wasn’t going to shut up easily this time.

  Chapter 8

  Getting one’s tissues repaired was a strange experience: nobody used anesthetics anymore, so most of the pain had to be absorbed by nanobots that segregated endorphins and other pain-countering chemicals. That made anyone tingly and euphoric, but at the same time with bursts of pain in the wounded area. The nanobots were supposed to neutralize pain, but programmers had never been too good at keeping things constant.

  Amy had put her nanobots at the lowest setting for Rick’s wound, so it hurt like mad whenever they repaired a tissue before flooding it with their relaxing serums. She’d done it on purpose, and now she was enjoying her I told you moment.

  The shuttle’s robotic arms pinched Rick.

  “Ow!” he said, and he instinctively jumped away. He’d tried to keep quiet to avoid reminding her of his own stupidity, but this was far too much.