“Regretfully, we can only give you a few minutes.”

“That’s fine.”

Jacob was taken to the surface, across a plot of flat earth, and into the base of a high broadcast tower that had somehow survived the Chaos wave and everything that followed with only minor structural damage. Everyone except for Gurne was asked to stay outside. Inside, Jacob was sat down on a chair in front of an enormous wall of blinking machinery and asked to place his arm into a slot. He did so, and it clamped down on his limb similarly to a blood pressure cuff.

“First time calling interstellar?” Gurne asked with his doughy smile.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, there’s nothing to it. Now that you’re hooked up, you can just call the person you want to reach like normal.”

“Okay.”

“Power usage spikes the moment you make the call, so that’s when your time starts ticking. Five minutes, give or take.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

While his arm was obstructed, Jacob was able to bring up his System interface on a panel set into the comm relay. Almost afraid, he navigated the menu down to Becca's name. His finger hovered over the ‘CALL’ button. He hesitated.

He didn’t know what he was worried about, but he was. And that worried him even more.

He pressed the button.

The machine whirred to life around him with a lot of clanking and screeching and beeping. The call rang out. It rang out for a while.

“Sometimes it takes a minute for the connection to go through,” Gurne said helpfully by his shoulder.

Jacob wanted to punch him in the gut. But he’d promised to be on good behavior, and he didn’t want to blow his chances of speaking to Becca.

Even though that was looking less hopeful by the second as the call continued to go unanswered. Ringing, ringing, ringing…

“Hello?”

Jacob almost ended the call in a panic. He resisted that irrational urge.

“Hi,” he said after a few seconds, somewhat sheepishly. “It’s, uh, me. Jacob.”

“Oh, hi.” The connection was spotty, her voice staticky. But it was her. “Will you make me pancakes, bro?”

“What?”

“Pancakes. I want pancakes. Make me pancakes.” She sounded tired.

“Becca, were you sleeping? Is it night over there?”

“Of course I’m sleeping.” Now she sounded annoyed.

“Why of course?”

“Because you’re here.”

He got a lump in his throat at that. He fought through it, cleared his throat forcefully. “Becca, it’s me. I’m calling you from Earth. I’m leaving for Mars today.”

There was a long silence.

“Jacob?” Her voice was the same as in those voice messages. Like her heart was in bits.

He blinked back tears. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

“Jacob?”

“Yeah, yes. Hello.”

“JACOB?”

“Yes, Becca! It’s me, fuck’s sake!”

“You don’t need to yell.” He could hear her pout over the call.

“You were the one yelling. And… Nevermind that. I only have a few minutes here, so why don’t we make the most of it?”

“Okay.”

“Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m with Bob and the others.”

“How’s Mars?”

“Dusty. And loud. And I get motion sick sometimes. It’s like being on a boat. How’s Earth?”

“Drowning in its own shit at the moment. But, uh, we killed the bad guy. So it’s all good. I mean, disregarding the like 10,4 billion people that died.”

“I know. You’re on the news.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. You and the others. They’re calling you the Nine. The ones that survived. You’re kinda famous.”

How are they already talking about that? The battle happened yesterday. I guess it must be the Dark Division leaking info. I don’t know who else is left that would have access to a comm relay like this.

“Well, it’d actually be ten with Fenris, but I guess they don’t count him.”

“Is he okay?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t, but there was no point in making her worry. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s lost some bits, but he doesn’t seem to mind.”

There was another long pause.

“I knew you’d come. I knew the whole time. I never doubted it.”

“That’s good, because I’ll be there soon. I didn’t let the end of the world stop me, so I don’t think anything else will even register as a speedbump.”

“I knew you’d come, but I was a little worried.”

“Yeah?”

“A little worried that you’d forget. Forget about me.”

“I didn’t. I would never. I made a promise, remember? That I’d always keep you safe. I can’t keep you safe if I don’t remember who you are, can I?”

“I know. It was a stupid thing to worry about. Because I can be stupid sometimes. But now I can let go of that stupid worry. Thank you, Jacob.”

“I hope you haven’t forgotten about the promise you made.”

“What’s that?”

Jacob glanced up at Gurne. “That whole thing about making me go blind.”

“Oh, yeah.” Becca giggled. “I’ve been stockpiling equipment. I’m going to put you through the wringer, mister.”

“Equipment? That sounds ominous.”

“Good. Be afraid.”

He laughed.

But then she got serious. “Jacob, how are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” he lied without hesitation.

“I mean, how are you really?”

“I’m… okay.”

“How many times?”

“How many what?”

“How many times did you die?”

Jacob hesitated. “I…”

“It’s okay. No matter what, it’s okay.”

He swallowed another knot. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t know everything you’ve been through, but I know it must have been beyond awful. You’ve fought so hard. When you get here, it’ll be my turn to take care of you.”

He let a single choked sob slip. “That’s not… how it’s supposed to work.”

“Tough fucking tits, bro. How many times?”

“T… Twelve, total. I think. Look, Fenris isn’t the only one who’s lost some bits. When you see me, I might be—”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ve got you, babe. I’ll catch you. Just get here.”

“I’m so—”

“DON’T FUCKING TELL ME YOU’RE SORRY, JACOB SORENSON!” The relay whined with staticky feedback, making him grit his teeth. “Whatever memories you’ve lost, I’ll help you make new ones.”

“You don’t understand, though. I even forgot my name, Becca. I thought my name was Jacob Doherty.”

“It’s not like you need to keep that name anyway. You hated him, and now he’s dead.”

“I don’t remember hating him. I don’t remember what he did to make me hate him.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Maybe.”

“Jacob, how are you really?”

He bit his lip, struggling with himself. He didn’t want to spill all his secrets in front of Gurne, the big potato fuck. But she pulled it out of him. Maybe that was something she always did.

“I’m scared, Becca. I’m scared I’m less than half a man. I’m scared that I don’t know you like I used to. I’m scared, because… I know that probably wasn’t the last time. It’s not going to stop at twelve.”

“I understand.”

“I’m scared I’ll end up some fucking vegetable somewhere, and you’ll be there cleaning up my drool until you start hating me for all the ways I smashed up your life.”

“I understand.”

“I’ve… seen things. I wish I could forget about those, but they stick for whatever reason. I get these dreams, these awful…” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I understand.” Despite the crackling connection, her voice was all sunshine. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“You can’t know that, Becca.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Sure I can.”

He smiled despite himself, remembering a promise. “Because I have you?”

“And I’ll protect you forever.”

Gurne stood in front of him and tapped a finger to the back of his wrist. Then he held up ten fingers.

Jacob wiped away tears. “Becca, I’m almost out of time. Where can I find you? What’s your address now? In case I can’t reach you later.”

Seven fingers.

“I’m in Standing, at the Earther housing quarter. Block C, Building 11, Apartment 312.” She spoke quickly. Then, more softly, she added: “Jacob.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Three fingers.

“Who the fuck is Grim, by the way?”

Becca laughed. “He’s our new friend. You’ll hate him.”

I bet I will.

“Come home to m—” she began, then the call abruptly cut out.

The relay wound down, its sounds fading until it was just the faint clicking of lights coming on and off. Jacob’s arm was released from the machine, and he rubbed at the indents it had left in his gray skin.

“As I said, I apologize that we couldn’t give you more time,” Gurne said conversationally, sounding not particularly apologetic at all. “Still, I hope it provided you with some comfort.”

Jacob stood with a sigh and reluctantly faced the snake-eyed site manager. “Right, what now? Do I owe you a kidney or something? Want my firstborn child? Just tell me what the catch is.”

Gurne smiled. “Absolutely no catch, Mr. Sorenson. Just a message.”

“A message?”

Gurne took a small, wax-sealed letter out of his pocket and handed it over. “Overseer Endarion sends his best. He asked me to make your stay a pleasant one. He also asked me to give you that ship, the Quickdraw, if you came by. You will have the ownership papers before you leave.”

Jacob’s mind had been whipped in so many directions in such a short time that it took him a significant amount of time to process all that. “Overseer… Endarion.”

“Yes. The head of our agency. He left that letter for you some time ago, so it must be important.”

Mr. Ender. Overseer Endarion. No way that’s a coincidence.

The devil is obsessed with me.

Jacob cracked the blank red wax seal and unfolded the note inside. Gurne craned his neck ever-so-slightly to get a peek, but Jacob pulled it back.

The letter said ‘See you soon!’ in scratchy handwriting. Beneath it was a wonky smiley face.

That was it.

I don’t know what I expected.

“Hmm,” Jacob said thoughtfully, mostly to fuck with Gurne. He folded the note back into the letter and put it away in his pocket.

System, bring up that binding vow, please.

[BINDING VOW 1]

On pain of death

Performance-based

Timed

[SIGNEE 1:]

<>

[SIGNEE 2:]

‘I swear to, uh, pay you back the three million flora within three months. I swear on my father’s grave.’

[TIME REMAINING: 84d, 11h, 45m]

All right. Eighty-four days, that’s not so bad.

It’s officially settled. Once I get this demon banished I’ll pay Cullyn back.

“Did you say your boss left that ship for me, specifically?”

Gurne nodded. “That’s right.”

“Not Starman? Grant Wilson?”

“No.”

“Then why did you end up promising it to him? I’m only here because he’s dead.”

The site manager just shrugged, an action that conjured up multiple fat rolls under his chin. “The overseer’s methods are rarely direct. He must have known you’d be here.”

“Let me guess. His methods are rarely direct, but he’s a credit to government agents everywhere?”

“Of course,” Gurne said, smiling. “That much goes without saying. The Dark Division wouldn’t be where it is today without his guidance.”

“I don’t suppose he’s around here, is he? If he left that message to you in person, then…”

“He’s not here. The overseer is almost always traveling. He stops in from time to time and ensures that things run smoothly. Might I ask why you’re so interested?”

Jacob wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to wring more information out of the man. But he’d try. “Well, it’s more like he seems interested in me, so I’m wondering why, that’s all.”

“Is that so strange? You’re one of the Nine, after all.”

“I wasn’t when he left that letter.”

“Overseer Endarion is not limited by the narrow thinking of ordinary men.”

“Meaning he can see the future?”

“Meaning, in my view, that he sees all futures, and simply picks the one he likes best.”

This guy’s so evil.

“This is the one he likes best, then? The one where Earth is a barren wasteland full of demons?”

Gurne shrugged. “As I said, his methods are rarely direct.”

Don’t ‘He works in mysterious ways’ me. Just start quoting satanic scripture at me, why don’t you?

“Well, I don’t believe he would want me to say any more than that. Shall we see if your ship is ready, Mr. Sorenson?”

“Wait. One more thing. Do you have some way to contact him? A System sig, maybe? Anything?”

Gurne gave an apologetic half-shrug. “I’m sorry, I can’t give out that kind of information. If he wants to contact you, he’ll find a way.”

“Will you take a message, then?”

Gurne hesitated, then: “Yes. That should be all right.”

“Tell him I want to talk before time runs out.”

“That’s—”

“He’ll know what it means.”

Gurne nodded. “All right, then. I’ll pass on your message when I speak to him next. But to be clear, that might be several weeks from now.”

“I appreciate that.”

Jacob had a lot to think about.

Could Ender, Endarion—whatever—be connected with the void, too? It said it was watching me., and this guy certainly seems to be doing that.

Almost unconsciously, he rubbed at his chest. He felt the outline of the handprint even through his clothes.

*****

The Quickdraw didn’t look much better than it had the first time he saw it, but apparently it was in flightworthy condition. At least there were no loose parts hanging out anymore.

If Ender was saving a ship just for me, did he know that Towman was going to die? Did he know that I was going to kill Starman?

And if he went through this trouble of leaving me a ship, why is it such a piece of shit? Is that funny to him or something?

Whoever he was dealing with, he certainly had a Starman-esque air of convoluted scheming to him.

Tarim was first inside the ship through the landing ramp that extended out the back. By the time Jacob made it in, the kid had already claimed a cabin for himself.

The interior was cramped, with a main deck that had four cabins, a living area, a kitchenette, a bathroom with two stalls and two showers, and a cockpit at the very front. The lower deck had two cabins, a small cargo bay, and an engine room.

Thatch was still seething over the ship being left in Jacob’s name. Just another thing he hadn’t known about. He clutched the blast-proof case that held the Deady Bear while glancing suspiciously about the living area of the ship.

“I guess since you’re technically the captain, you get to decide the living arrangements,” Danger the pilot said as he brought his few possessions onboard. Once they were squared away, he went back out and got Gillis’s bags—a significantly larger pile of luggage.

Tarim had already called dibs on the main deck front port cabin, so Jacob took front starboard, gave Thatch back port, and Fenris back starboard. The wolf needed the space, considering his size. Even then, the cabin was nearly too small for him to comfortably use. Danger and Gillis got the two lower deck cabins.

While Dark Division employees fueled the ship, refilled the water tanks, and loaded the cargo bay with fresh supplies, Jacob went to check on Danger, who was familiarizing himself with the cockpit.

“Are we gonna crash and die?” Jacob asked, jumping onto the captain’s seat, located just behind the pilot and co-pilot seat at a slight elevation. He got the sudden urge to go and start pulling levers and pushing buttons on the big control panel, but held his inner child back.

Danger laughed nervously. “I don’t think so?”

“That didn’t sound very confident.”

“Well, this is a pretty old model.”

“A piece of shit, you mean.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far, but…” He shrugged. “Okay, yeah. It’s a piece of shit.”

“But you can fly it?”

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Did Thatch tell you I’m a pilot?”

“Pretty much.”

“That would be a slight overstatement. I mean, I went through the star pilot program. Some of it. And I’ve flown a ship before. Just not one like this.”

“Jesus, are we actually going to crash?”

“Not if I’ve got a fucking thing to say about it, you dumb son of a bitch.”

A little red hardlight construct flickered to life over the control panel. It looked like a cartoon beaver with a cigar in his mouth, arms akimbo.

“You’re the AI, I take it?” Jacob asked.

“What do I fucking look like? A goddamn one-legged hooker? You make me sick, you turd-sniffing ingrate.”

Thatch did say it was supposed to be temperamental, I guess…

“All right. What do I call you?”

“Name’s Barry. Barry the Beaver. Say, you might be the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you seen many dogs before?”

He didn’t respond to that.

“Look, I’m no choir boy, but could you turn down the profanity a bit? It’s kind of…”

“Annoying?” Danger supplied.

Jacob nodded towards the sort-of pilot. “What he said.”

“Who the fuck are you to boss me around, cumstain?” Barry looked Jacob up and down and gave a contemptuous snort.

“Well, I do own this ship now, apparently, so I guess that would make me your boss?”

“Yeah? Your mom should've swallowed you, whoreson. Save me listening to all this braindead buffoonery.”

“I don’t know what to do about this,” Jacob said with a sigh. “Although I guess it’s more your problem than mine. You’re gonna be flying with him.”

Danger looked even more uncomfortable than he had at the start of the conversation. “Do you think there’s a way to turn him off?”

One of the Dark Division employees wandered into the cockpit with a box in his arms. “Oh, don’t bother with that thing. Apparently the Golden Son installed some unlicensed software into him—I guess he thought the idea of an AI swearing like a sailor was funny—but we haven’t been able to fix him since.”

“That sounds like something he would do,” Jacob muttered. “So can you turn him off?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not!” Barry screamed, stomping his foot on imaginary ground. “And don’t you dare put your disgusting sausage fingers on that button!”

“What button?”

The employee sighed, put down the box, and came over. He pressed a green button overhead labeled: ‘ON-BOARD ASSISTANT ON/OFF’, and it turned red.

The beaver had his hands out in a pleading gesture and was about to open his mouth when he suddenly cut out and vanished. When he disappeared, a message came up on one of the control panel screens that read: ‘WARNING: IT IS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED TO UTILIZE ON-BOARD ASSISTANT. ARE YOU SURE YOU WISH TO PROCEED?’

“Just ignore that,” the employee said, speaking the entire sentence in one big sigh. “You’re better off without that thing, trust me. I hear he tried to crash the ship once.”

“Couldn’t you… replace it or something?” Jacob asked.

“Dude, you’re getting a free ship—don’t whine about it. Grade-3 AIs don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“Right. Fair enough.”

The employee sighed again and wandered off with whatever he was carrying.

Tarim came through after a while, having acquainted himself with his cabin. He looked out through the dirty windshield and gave an excited little laugh.

“Holy shit, we’re actually going to space.”

“Probably,” Jacob muttered under his breath.

“I thought the ship was supposed to have an AI? AI, hello? Are you there?”

“It’s not. It’s… broken.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. Why do you think it’s broken?”

“Half the things on this ship are broken—are you really surprised?”

“Yeah, but you know she’s gotta be reliable if she’s pulled through it for this long.”

“That’s a very optimistic way of looking at it.”

“Do you know how long it’ll take to get to the Moon?”

Jacob spent the next thirty minutes answering mostly useless questions. He didn’t mind that much. At least the kid was in a good mood.

Then, suddenly, they were ready for takeoff. Gurne saw them off with an overly saccharine retread of how grateful they were to the Heroes’ Guild for their work in ridding the world of Akor-Goram. Then they were rid of him, and all the people cleared away from the launch pad. The ceiling parted above them, allowing pillowy drifts of ash to rain down onto the ship. They were slowly raised up until they were at ground level, once again met by Earth’s angry gray-orange skies.

Everyone was strapped into their seats in the cockpit, except for Fenris who was secured to the floor with a jerry-rigged harness.

Danger brought the ship to life with a sweeping series of inputs across the control panel. The engines rumbled like an ornery old bear and set everything rattling. A button popped out of the ceiling and bounced across the floor, and the screens flickered with intermittent static.

“It’ll be fine,” Danger said. “This is fine.” It sounded like he was mostly trying to reassure himself.

“Space!” Tarim cried, hands in the air.

Fenris whined unhappily, head between his paws.

Danger got them off the ground with vertical takeoff thrusters. There was a good bit of shaking, but they didn’t crash yet. They rose to maybe forty meters in the air, clearing the tops of all the Dark Division buildings by a good margin. Danger’s hand was on the throttle lever in a white-knuckled grip.

“Hit it,” Jacob said.

Danger glanced back at Thatch.

“Hit it,” Thatch repeated with a grave nod, like he was consigning them all to gruesome deaths.

Danger hit the throttle, and Jacob was pressed back into his seat as the Quickdraw shot forward. He felt his cheeks press against his skull, his chin pushed down against his neck. Everything outside the windshield became a gray blur. A few of the screens filled with flashing orange warning messages. Danger dismissed them with a verbal command and upped the throttle. Jacob gritted his teeth, held down so firmly that he would barely have been able to move his hands if he wanted to.

Thatch passed out. So did Tarim.

They hit a dark cloud bank, and burning fumes washed across the ship. They climbed sharply upwards, and Jacob felt his stomach rebel against him.

When the first alarm went off with a shrill screeching and blinking red lights, Jacob screwed his eyes shut and prayed that they wouldn’t explode.