by C H Gideon
Navigation sighed. “Is there anything you don’t want them to look for?”
“Maybe they can find you a better attitude while they’re at it?” the captain replied, making it sound like a question.
“One improved attitude coming right up. Would you like fries with that?”
“Does it count as a burn if you’re technically insulting yourself?” Helm asked.
“I don’t see why not. Self-deprecation can be a useful asset,” Tactical replied.
“Can you tell me who’s in that chair?” the captain asked, diverting the positions’ attention back to the matter at hand.
“Captain?” Comm asked.
“What?”
“What about the fourth bot?”
“What about it?”
“What do you want it to do?” Comm asked.
“Check out the thing in the chair, of course. Why do I have to think of everything?” The captain sounded miffed.
“I know that one. Pick me!” Tactical replied.
“No, pick me!” Helm said.
“I’ll take it,” the XO said dismissively. “Because in all the universe, there is no one smarter than you. None of us are as smart as all of us, and that is you, good Captain.”
“Bravo, XO! You get a cookie. Now, send the bot to check out the thing in the captain’s chair. I want to know about the sonofabitch who attacked us.”
“Roger that, Captain.”
Three of the viewscreen quadrants focused on various consoles and panels within the bridge as the bots began working to power up the ship’s systems enough to extract data. The fourth quadrant showed an approach toward the alien captain’s chair and the monstrosity sitting in it.
Whatever the alien was, it was brown and black, covered in hair reminiscent of the rough bristles of a brush or even a porcupine’s quills, and it was bulky. In the cold vacuum of space, some sort of moisture had crystallized into tiny yellow flecks on the tips of its quills.
As the bot began to round the chair for a better look, a deep groan sounded throughout the alien ship’s bridge.
The screech of rending metal tore over the comm, and the fourth bot’s feed turned toward the bridge’s ceiling in time to see a jagged stalactite of metal jabbing through.
Pop.
The fourth bot’s feed went dark.
“Shit! Report!” the captain yelled.
“Assessing,” Tactical said.
“I mean fucking now! What the hell happened?”
“It’s debris from one of the other ships, Captain,” the XO said. “It’s a total nut roll out there.”
He swapped the fourth robot’s quadrant for a “windshield” view beyond the Reynolds’ hull. It showed a massive, jagged chunk of metal carving through the alien ship’s hull. Meanwhile, the bots in the other three quadrants scrambled and scurried around the bridge to avoid succumbing to the same fate as their crushed cousin.
“Captain, we’ve got to extract them now,” Tactical said.
“But they haven’t gotten even a tenth of the information we wanted from—” Comm started to protest.
“Scans indicate the ship’s hull’s integrity is failing,” Tactical continued. “We won’t get shit for information if the rest of the bots get pulverized in the process.”
“Tell bots two and three to transmit to the last nanosecond. Stay the course, good bots. Your lives will not be lost in vain!” the captain declared. “Order bot number one to grab a sample from the alien captain so we can analyze it.”
“Yeah, if we can get it out,” Navigation muttered. “I respectfully suggest that maybe next time we plan our dead enemy ship exploitation operation a little better.”
“Noted, you sandy little butthole. Do you know what we need?” the captain growled.
None of the AI’s other personalities answered.
“Fucking people. Fucking people would be warier because they die so easily.”
“Captain?” Comm asked, trying to turn the attention back to the issues on screen.
One of the bots zipped over to the captain’s chair, now obliterated by the debris piercing the bridge. It somehow managed to retrieve what looked to be some sort of prickly brown-and-black arm. It happened so fast that the captain didn’t get a good look at it.
The alien ship continued to moan, and the bulkheads, girders, and decks buckled and tore as the bot rushed from the bridge.
Bots two and three started transmitting data.
“Yes!” Comm shouted. “See me fist-pumping the air in victory. The data is coming through.”
Then another quadrant blinked out with a crunch and a sharp hiss.
The second bot was down. The feed from the third bot showed a section of the bridge ceiling slamming down on top of it, smashing the second to scrap. Worse still, the third bot was trapped under the debris that had destroyed the second bot.
“Shit!” the captain fumed. “Can it cut itself out?”
“It’s trying,” Comm said.
“Tell it to keep transmitting the data. Go, stupid little cousin, go!” the XO encouraged. “Focus all your efforts into getting that data. And then focus the rest of your efforts on recovering the bot with the arm, or whatever the hell that biomass is.”
Bot three remained on the bridge, still transmitting, but only a quarter of a tenth of the information they could’ve gleaned. And that was if bot three managed to stay plugged in.
As the bot with the arm peeled out of the bridge and into the dying ship, every curse in every human language cycled through the AI’s thought patterns.
“It’s not going to make it,” Helm said.
“He’s right,” Tactical confirmed. “The ship’s tearing apart too quickly.”
“Bullshit. It’s gonna make it,” the captain said. The bridge started cheering.
“Come on, little guy. You can do it!”
“Go, bot, go.”
“Fuck the blasphemers! You got this.”
“Like hell, it does,” Navigation muttered. “I’m taking control.”
The arm-bot’s feed jumped and jolted, then drew to almost a complete stop. Its onscreen progression jerked to life again and the bot lurched forward, its thrusters burning at full-blast.
“Don’t fuck this up,” the captain said.
“I play a lot of video games,” Navigation replied.
The third bot’s viewscreen went black.
“Transmission has ceased. Retrieval bots on the bridge are out of commission.”
“A moment of silence, please, for our stupid brethren.” The moment lasted five microseconds. “Now order three more retrieval bots to be produced from the scrap metal of the enemy ship. That’ll teach those bastards to fuck with the SD Reynolds. Maybe the next aliens will smell the fear.”
“Captain?” the XO said. “Looks like Nav is earning his pay today.
The bot’s view expanded to fill the whole viewscreen. It ducked under debris, wove between bending bulkheads, and dodged tentacles of wires lashing out toward it.
Then a grate from the ceiling swung down like a scythe.
“Watch out!” the captain yelled.
“I see it!” Navigation said.
The bot whizzed out of the way—just barely—and evaded a circuit-severing collision. In the distance, the path the bots had carved from the ship’s hull gaped open.
“Almost there…” Navigation muttered.
“I think he’s gonna do it,” Helm said.
“C’mon, kid. You’ve got this!” the XO said.
“Only fifty more meters…” Tactical said.
The wall shrieked and collapsed onto itself, sealing the hole and trapping the bot and its precious bit of alien inside the ship.
Chapter Three
“All hands on deck!” the captain bellowed. “I need options, people. I want to know about the aliens who gave us such a warm welcome.”
Tactical was the first to speak up. “Watch this. Weapons are ready?”
“Ready,” Tactical told
himself in a cold, hard voice.
“What are you doing?” the XO asked.
Tactical ignored him. “Fire!” A light flashed on the console. “Firing!”
Onscreen, the retrieval bot’s view flashed white-hot light, then the image quickly faded.
The view from outside the ship showed a gaping hole outlined with the bright orange of molten metal, streaking across the alien ship like a comet.
“Bullseye!” Tactical confirmed confidently.
“There’s your way out!” Helm shouted.
“I see it,” Navigation replied.
“And?” the captain said, drawing out the word.
“And I’m flying our small friend out.”
The retrieval bot lurched toward the opening, careened through the hole in the ship’s hull, and burst into the black abyss of space. Behind it, the alien ship came apart in surreal slow motion as sections ripped silently from the superstructure, and created a growing cloud of space debris.
“Nav, place a marker buoy for what’s it worth so casual passersby can avoid that trash,” the captain ordered. “How long until we have the bot?”
“Less than a minute, Captain,” Comm said.
“Good. Put the alien captain’s biomass into quarantine, and turn the scientist loose on it.” The captain added, “And collect enough scrap for three new retrieval bots.”
“Maintenance bots deploying.” The main screen showed three dots of light flying toward the cloud of debris. They started attaching independent gravitic thrusters to the largest sections. Three oversized sections of the alien ship started moving slowly toward the superdreadnought.
“Do they use marker buoys in this galaxy?” the XO asked.
“I don’t know, but I’ll assume they do because it makes sense. Maybe in this sector of space, it’ll attract ships like moths to a flame. Who knows? At least we’ll avoid that garbage and know that we tried to play nice.”
“I see,” the XO said, laughing at his own joke. The empty positions on the bridge didn’t give the XO the slightest groan of support.
“Play nice by marking the place where we destroyed a bunch of the locals?” Helm asked.
“Sucks to be them.”
“Looks more like we’re waving a big flag that says, Think Twice. Be Nice or Die.”
“Just drop the marker buoy and let’s be on our way,” the captain shot back.
“How much data did the other bots transmit before they bit the big one?”
“Not much. Nothing that suggests Kurtherians, but there are at least four nearby systems with humanoids.”
“The closest one is a few days away,” Navigation reported.
“Given the damage we’ve sustained,” Helm started, “I would advise against using the main engines until we’ve made repairs.”
Engineering’s voice emanated from the depths of the Reynolds, “I concur. We’ve got a ton of work to do before we try anything grandiose.”
“’Grandiose.’ I didn’t know I would ever use that word, but it fits. We shall do ‘grandiose’ once we’ve made sufficient repairs to the ship. It’s settled. We’ll go to the closest planet with humanoids, and we’ll recruit there,” the captain said.
“Hold on,” the XO’s position called. “You’ve already made the decision that we are getting a crew?”
“Yes. We need their flexibility to help with repairs, and they will provide some balance. I’m tired of all you whiners. I think I’d rather have humanoids.”
“If anyone will have you,” Navigation quipped.
“Like I had your mother last night!” The XO belly-laughed again.
“I want a new XO. Maybe I’ll promote a humanoid in front of you.”
Superdreadnought Reynolds, Lariest System, Chain Galaxy
A few days later…
“We’ll enter the planet’s atmosphere in approximately three minutes, Captain,” Helm reported.
“Good. Now, I’ve been thinking about how to mingle with the locals.”
“I’m showing signs of advanced technology on the planet, including some low-level AI,” Comm reported. “You could potentially commandeer one of their AI drones and interact that way.”
“I’ll need something mobile. The city’s huge.”
“There’s a hovercab service in one of the planet’s largest population centers. Perhaps you could take control of one of the drivers?” Comm suggested.
“You mean steal one? I like it. Paint me chrome and set me loose.”
“No can do, Captain,” Comm said. “The android body looks like he’s a local. Realistic nano-adaptive skin and features. No chrome to be seen.”
“Even better. If I look like them, they’ll like me sooner, and then we can get a crew and get back to hunting Kurtherians.”
Comm hesitated. “Well, sort of…”
“What the hell, Other Me? Spit it out, already.”
“You’re going to be an average-looking guy driving a taxi in a city mostly populated by humanoids who have reddish skin, dark hair, and black eyes.”
The captain’s voice went flat. “That’s the best you can do?”
“On short notice? Yes,” Comm added, “But these taxi guys are everywhere. You’ll be a familiar face.”
“Can’t we change the android’s appearance once I upload?”
“In theory, yes. But the real issue is getting hold of one in the first place.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” the captain said.
“Can’t we call one and have it show up when we dock?” the XO asked.
Silence filled the bridge.
“I’d like to call you stupid, but that sounds like an easy solution, and easy is usually the best,” the captain said.
“Except it won’t work,” Comm replied.
“Why not?” the XO asked, offended.
“Their routes don’t intersect with our landing site. The spaceport employs its own taxi service, operated by actual, fleshy drivers.” Comm added, “Oooh! They offer complimentary libations to passengers!”
“Until we have a body, there will be no drinking on duty. Or ever,” the captain said firmly. “What’s our course of action?”
“Perhaps, instead of stealing a body, we can recruit one of the drivers to help us meet the locals,” Tactical suggested.
“We’re landing now, Captain,” Helm reported.
The SD Reynolds shuddered and quaked more than usual as its thrusters pummeled the planet’s surface, slowing its descent until it set down at the spaceport.
“Land ho!” the XO crooned.
“Let’s go find a crew,” the captain said in a low voice. “Call several of the spaceport taxis here.”
“Aye, Captain,” Comm replied.
“And then what?” Tactical asked.
“You’ll see.”
Ankal Spaceport, Lariest System, Chain Galaxy
Jiya Lemaire drove the hovercab toward the alien ship that had just docked on the spaceport’s southwestern platform, marveling at its peculiar shape, massive size, and strange markings. It dwarfed any ship she had ever seen by a large margin.
As she drew near, she noticed blackened streaks and tears across parts of its hull. She hadn’t ever been off-world, but she’d heard tales of the grand excursions and exploits of a privileged few of her fellow Larians who’d been conscripted into the planet’s military.
But I was never good enough for them. She straightened her stuffy spaceport uniform, remembering how she’d failed to pass not one but three of the exams the Lariest Planetary Military Forces had required her to take as part of her application, surprising as that was.
She had been sure she’d nailed them all.
Six other hovercabs closed in on the alien ship from various angles around the platform.
Must be a large delegation.
But it boggled her mind that a ship this large would make use of the spaceport’s taxi services instead of hiring a private transport. Maybe this species of aliens were cheapskates.
I hope not. She couldn’t afford to shuttle around a bunch of cheapskates. Not with her outstanding debts.
As Jiya pulled her hovercab to a stop a few meters beyond the ship—which loomed over her like a skyscraper lying on its side—the comm in her dashboard crackled.
“Never seen a ship that big.” Rictor’s voice said as he pulled his hovercab next to hers. When Jiya glanced at him, Rictor winked while pursing his lips. “Bigger is better, baby.”
Fat lush. She sighed, shook her head, and faced forward again.
“Aw, don’t be like that.”
Magni, their shift supervisor, broke in. “Enough, you two. All I know is that we’ve got a job to do, and you turds are dusting the dirt with your monthly performance numbers,” Magni said. “Your fare quotas have been in the shitter for the last two weeks. This is your chance to redeem yourselves, and maybe save your miserable jobs.”
“Yes, boss,” Jiya said. She’d lost the last four jobs before this. If she couldn’t hold a taxi gig, she’d be out of work, maybe for good. She needed this job.
She looked up at the ship. This has to be a big fare. Maybe even multiple trips. If the aliens left her some good tips, she might finally get some breathing room in her life.
“Which end do you figure is the front?” Balga, another of the drivers, asked over the comm.
“And that, friends, is why Balga never gets laid,” Rictor quipped.
Even Jiya had to grin at that one.
“Ha, ha, Rictor,” Balga replied, his voice flat. “Very funny. I mean, what end do we go in?”
“You’re making this too easy, Balga,” Rictor said between chuckles.
“Dammit!” Balga growled. “I mean, where are we meeting the fares?”
“I see a huge hatch opening up ahead,” Magni said. “Looks like a ramp is extending down. Probably wide enough for four or five hovercabs to go up at once. We’ll start there.”
“Copy that, boss,” Balga said.
Magni led the way, and Jiya and the others followed. As they approached the open hatch, running lights along the ramp floor activated as if to show them the way.
Once all seven hovercabs had made it inside, they parked and waited. Several minutes later, no one had yet emerged to greet them, and nothing else had happened, either.
