When one signs a contract for Asterium, the forerunner of galactic exploration and scouting, they no longer have a name. They have no family, no relationships, no identity. The company is their family. Their relationships are those with their crew-mates. Name and identity are tied to their position on the star-ship. No exceptions.
It’s all there in plain writing on the contract they sign. Breach of contract is... Well, it’s best not to mention what happened to the last crew when the Captain broke contract. That’s how this crew managed to find their way to the helm of Asterium’s Blazing Horizons, and according to the yearly emails from corporate, they’ve been doing a bang-up job. One percent raises for everyone!
“Captain, we’re picking up a probe signal about zero-point-three parsecs out. We’re also being hailed by Jupiter Galactic’s battleship, Freedom of Choice,” the Communications Officer—C.O.—announced. He turned in his chair to face the Captain’s seat.
“C.O., what have I told you about saying the company names?” The Captain replied.
“...Not to?” The Communications Officer asked. “B-but Sir, I get five credits every time I-”
“Then you can drag Bright-Eyes over there to your bunk and whisper sweet nothings to its microphone while you go fuck yourself, understand?”
A terrified nod was the only response.
“Captain, I must remind you that nicknames are not permitted aboard Asterium’s Blazing Horizons. My designation is Dedicated-Android-Designed-to-Detect-contract-breaches-in-an-effort-to-ensure-corporate-values-are-being-followed-and-the-image-of-the-company-is-intact-and-also-Yogurt-dispenser. You may refer to me as D.A.D.D.Y. or use my full designation,” the metal humanoid at one of the consoles spoke. “Would you like some yogurt?”
“Are you classified as a biological human?”
“As I stated, my designation is Dedicated-And-”
“You’re not human, so the contract doesn’t apply; I’m not calling you Daddy. C.O., hail the Freedom of Choice.”
The screen at the front of the ship flickered, static filling the view for a moment as the background radiation of space (and corporate advertisements) interfered with the signal. Finally, it connected, displaying the Commanding Officer of the Freedom of Choice.
And the tattoo on his forehead that read ‘Jupiter Galactic’. Anything for extra credits in these difficult times, she supposed.
“Ah, hello, Captain of Asterium’s Blazing Horizons. I am the Commanding Officer of Jupiter Galactic’s Freedom of Choice.”
The Captain’s eye twitched.
“Hello, Commanding Officer. What is this about?” She asked. Her eyes kept drifting to his forehead. Damn corpo.
“I’ll cut it short, as we’re paid hourly. No doubt you’ve received that signal just a short jump out. That’s a probe. We found it first, so we’re claiming the bounty on it.”
“Well... I think there’s an issue with that plan of yours, Officer,” the Captain Spoke. She pulled up a view of the probe through one of the scanners, covering her face on the screen. She cut her microphone and spoke. “Helmsman, power up the warp drives, but pull the residual heat into hangar three.”
“Yes, Sir,” the Helmsman replied.
“What issue would that be, Captain of Asterium’s Bl-” The Commanding Officer was interrupted.
“You’re out of your jurisdiction. By several dozen light years, I may add.”
“Legislation states that probe claims can override jurisdictional boundaries due to their importance, and-”
“And if no other party within the area lays claim to it as part of their jurisdiction,” the Captain finished. “This is my area. I lay claim to it.”
“You know... that’s kind of funny...”
“Captain, the Freedom of Choice is powering up its canons,” the Security Officer—S.O.—spoke up, unheard by the Commanding Officer on the other ship. “I recommend taking immediate evasive action.”
The Captain merely raised a hand, staying the command, out of view of the screen.
“...I don’t see any other ships or crews around this section of space. Do you?” The Commanding Officer continued. “It’s such a shame Asterium’s Blazing Horizons was caught by an ambush and had their cargo looted by that gang of xeno-sympathizers, isn’t it?”
“You filthy little meteorite scrounger,” the Captain hissed. “C.O., cut comms.”
The screen blipped out of existence, allowing warnings to take their place. The ship automatically detected the building energy directed toward them, despite the ships AI being more than capable of hearing the Security Officer’s comment.
Warning! Attack Imminent! Take Evasive Action! Don’t forget to smile, you represent the company :)
“Helmsman, make the jump on my command. Dump the heat in hangar three now.”
With that command, the hangars opened. The heat inside was sucked out in a powerful burst of atmospheric pressure, as well as several crates of rather valuable and volatile cargo. The crates were glowing orange, and while normally strong enough to resist a shot from a star-ship without a dent...
Super-heated metals aren’t structurally sound.
The canons facing them fired.
“Now!”
The view-ports around the helm went from displaying a gorgeous, sparkling view of the galaxy, to a blur of white streaks. The ships warning lights flashed dangerously, and the sensors at the rear of the Blazing Horizons caught exactly what happened to the battleship.
The balls of plasma struck the crates of Gravitonium, and destroyed the shell that contained the volatile material. Faster than the speed of light, the crates exploded outward in a powerful eruption that spanned half a light-year in every direction. Then, the visible explosion shuddered, and the momentum inverted.
The mass of Gravitonium slammed itself into a singularity, pulling everything within half a light-year with it. This included the Freedom of Choice, causing the multi-kilometer battleship to crumple into a point smaller than the head of a pin.
“Captain, those crates had a value of—”
“I know how much those were worth, you walking payment terminal,” the Captain interrupted. “That probe is worth several thousand of those crates. Suck it up, Asterium can eat the cost of that. Unless you’d rather explain to The Board why we let a probe go?”
“Response acknowledged and recorded. Asterium’s Loss Prevention moons will take note of the loss and the justification. Jupiter Galactic will be conversing with Asterium’s lawyers for a fair payout to the company and compensation to Asterium’s Blazing Horizons. The material loss will still be docked from the crew’s payout at the end of the contract.”
“You’re a real fucking piece of work, you miniscule-capacitor-having-circuit-board-diddler.”
“Captain, your daily allotment of PG-13 curses have been used up. Additional curses will incur a ten credit fee.”
The Captain merely flipped off the robot, which returned its attention back toward the console.
“Captain, we’re dropping out of warp. The probe should be several kilometres out,” the Helmsman spoke up.
True to his word, the view-ports around the helm went from showing bright streaks of white, to a brilliant show of colours and lights courtesy of the wonders of the galaxy. The screen up front blipped back into existence, displaying the probe in question.
“That looks... New,” the Captain spoke. “Get C.E. on the line to look at this.”
It took moments at most before they managed to get the Chief Engineer’s opinion of the probe from just a glance and a quick scan. It was brand new. It mimicked the probes that every single corporation they worked for wanted.
This wasn’t any original probe, however. Once the probe was hit with the scan, there was a shift from the probe. A slot opened along the side, and a series of encrypted pulses radiated outward.
“The signal from the probe changed,” the Communications Officer spoke. “It’s in the Terran Universal language. It says ‘We have your media files. Come to these coordinates so we can talk.’ What does that mean?”
“Captain, go to the co-ordinates,” the Robot spoke. Its tone changed, as did its mannerisms. “We need those files. Nothing else matters. This is a direct order from Asterium Human Resources. Casualties will be compensated—failure to obey will result in immediate termination.”
A hush swept through the room, stunned silence at the realization that the company they worked for was directly ordering them to do something. There was no misinterpretation or technical loopholes allowed. This was as serious as it got.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
No one wanted to know if termination was contractual, or literal.
“...You realize this is clearly a trap, right?” The Helmsman asked. He glanced back at the Captain, and then to the Corporate Android who turned to look at him. “Like, I don’t think this could be a more obvious set up.”
“Irrelevant. Failure to comply will result in your termination.”
“I’m well aware this is a trap, we’re going anyways. That probe is important, and could set us up for several cycles,” the Captain spoke in an attempt to lighten the mood. “How about after this, we hit up the Vegas Belt? Casinos, bars, strippers, and no work for a month.”
The corporate bot turned to face the Captain, its normally vacant gaze focused intently on her.
“...It’s still going to be a trap,” the Helmsman spoke.
~{O}~{O}~{O}~
“I told you it was a trap.”
“I know. I agreed,” the Captain replied. “Now shut up and keep walking.”
“I have lost connection to the servers, please allow me a moment to reconnect to ensure proper monitoring of corporate assets and—”
“You too, zip it, Chrome Dome. You’ve said that seventeen times now.”
The various leads and heads of the Blazing Horizons marched onward across the crater-pocked, free-floating moon. Mountains rose up around them, covered in damage from what looked to be a battle. The crew was surrounded by fourteen heavily armed humans, each with a projectile firing weapon. Not even considerate or advanced enough to use energy-based weaponry. Savages.
“I mean, they even surrounded us with seven scrappy freight ships. I could have easily outmanoeuvred them all while blind-”
“Helmsman,” the Captain growled, “if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to beat the robot senseless, take one of their rifles, blow out your kneecaps, and then kill myself.”
“Ten credits have been charged to your account, Captain,” the Corporate Narc—Android—spoke. “Threats to crew and company property are not standard operating procedure. Please refrain from committing murder or serious bodily injury.”
Clang!
The Android stumbled forward, the back of its head crumpled in with a fist-sized dent. One of their captors returned his prosthetic arm to his side, hovering over the large handgun at his hip.
“Please refrain from damaging company property. Additional damages will be charged to Asterium’s Blazing Horizons financial account once connection has been—”
CLANG!
That same fist fell like a hammer-blow, striking the Robot on the head and caving it in. With its head effectively level with its shoulders, it staggered around, its visual sensors completely destroyed. Still, the impact managed to bring about an absolute blessing.
The Android shut the fuck up. It also tripped over a ridge in the ground it couldn’t see, and landed flat on its front. At that point, the group came to a halt, with their captors facing the group in a circle, their weapons pointed downward.
One person came forward, gruff and grizzled looking. He stood tall, and clearly looked to be in charge. He tapped at the ground with a foot, and a slot opened up in the ground. A small podium rose up, with a large red button positioned on the top.
The Captain reached out and grabbed the Chief Engineer by the scruff of her jacket. They had been around one another for long enough for the Captain to know that C.E. wouldn’t be able to resist pushing it. The last time that happened led to three-thousand lives lost, and the creation of thirteen new laws in the Icarus owned Alpha Centauri industrial system.
“Does anyone have any electronic devices that are necessary for continued life? Pace makers, mechanical stomachs, mesh diaphragms, or anything of the like? You will get one, and only one warning,” the man near the button asked.
They did not. The Captain was more than happy to have run her ship well enough that everyone on board was able to get their own biological organs grown whenever one failed. Working 22 hours a shift was rough on the body, but affordable organ replacements helped.
Everyone from the Blazing Horizons either shook their head, remained silent, or glared at their captors. There was a long pause, as if they were ensuring that people weren’t refusing to talk. Then, he hit the button.
A powerful magnetic pulse washed upward in a straight pillar, visibly rippling and distorting. It formed around the centre of the group, leaving their captors outside of it. Any metal buttons on clothing were torn off, and in one case, the Chief Engineer’s prosthetic leg was sheared from her body and hurtled into the air.
The good news is, so was the NarcBot-9000, and the Captain was happy to note its demise when it turned into a sparking scrap metal ball high in the air, with some yogurt seeping out of its joints. Then, the metal ball jerked to the side, and darted off, flying toward an open cliff-face and disappearing into the darkness.
The Captain stabilized C.E. by draping her arm over her shoulder, and did her best to quiet the frustrated muttering and grumbles of the prosthetic being destroyed. Thank goodness for high force quick release mechanisms patented by Asterium.
The surface of the moon beneath their feet shuddered, and rotated in a slow circle. The Captain looked around and found their captors were incredibly calm. She took a breath, and looked to the side, finding that the platform sat on a set of spiral rails, gradually making its way lower and lower.
The walls of the moon rose up around them, and an aperture of metal panels closed above them with a thud. Now stranded in darkness, the team and their captors rode in silence.
They dropped lower and lower, further and further, until light started to seep in through the tracks they were riding on. When they cleared the edge of the dark tunnel, the Captain couldn’t help but freeze for a moment to take everything in.
The entire inside of the moon was a mega-city. The outer shell of the massive sphere was held up by pillars of solid steel, or whatever fancy material they made them of. It was hard to tell, because each and every pillar was plastered with colour. Not the kind of colour that the Vegas Belt had, with screens and holograms so bright you could see them from two planets down.
No, everything was covered with what looked to be spray paint and stolen corporate signage modified to various levels of profanity—Ass-terrarium instead of Asterium; Faraway was now Go Away. They kept the various corporate styling for the logos though.
Several members of the Blazing Horizons thought that modification was an affront to Earth itself, and all it represented. All their past struggles and the historic loss of their home planet was being mocked by this abuse of creativity and freedom of these absolute savages. Several prayers were spoken to Amazon Galactic to deliver them from this accursed place.
The Captain thought it was hilarious.
Their elevator descended further, revealing more and more details to the crew. The city seemed to span beyond the curve of the interior of the moon, likely wrapping around the entire core. There were so many levels to it all, each stack of buildings and streets stood above another, dropping deep into the core, layer after layer. Nothing made sense. The buildings seemed to follow one particular structure and style, but then seemed to change without warning, an absolute clusterfuck of visuals and sounds drifting up from below.
Yet, despite the chaos, the streets were grid-like. A pattern started to emerge the more they stared, alternating between residential, commercial, and industrial placement of city chunks.
It was pure organized chaos, accented by stolen corporate property, and... it was peaceful. There were no shouts. No sirens in the distance. Observer drones with mounted turrets didn’t loom over the general populace on their yearly week-long vacation. Despite being underground, the air didn’t have that disgusting aftertaste of recycled atmosphere.
“What are those?” The Chief Engineer asked. She gestured toward the shorter brown pillars with streams of white, green, and blue that sat between each layer of the city. There were hundreds of them visible with each layer of the city they descended, and despite the levels of civilization above each section, it was lit up, everything visible until the curve of the interior of the moon made it vanish.
“Genetically engineered redwood trees,” someone answered to the right side of the group. “They hold up each layer.”
“What’s with all the colours?”
“Light; breathable air; water transportation.”
“Oh.”
The platform lowered further, the walls of the hollow moon swallowing them once again. Lights flicked on with heavy chunks of breakers, signifying the extremely old technology at use in these tunnels.
Eventually, the platform came to a halt, and a large pair of doors opened up, bright light filtering through, revealing...
A carpet of green. Small trees grew up toward the ceiling, blooming outward in leaves of glimmering white that lit up the area. A trail lead through the ‘bunker’, and the Captain walked forward, encouraged by their captors.
“What is this place?” She finally asked.
“Luna,” someone commented. That name rang familiar, but none of the crew of Blazing Horizons could place why. Something from their childhood perhaps. “Be quiet, you will have answers.”
As they walked forward, several more beings joined their group. Some were on four legs, large ears on their head swivelled around, and had big bushy tails. Others stood upright, hunched over, with wide heads and large eyes. Some kind of genetically engineered security?
A glance around the area revealed turrets on the roof, the large weaponry currently offline. They looked like railguns from those ancient freighters the Captain had worked on in her early years. Clearly there was nothing modern or sophisticated about this place, just a bunch of backwater pirates ripping off tech from the corps.
Finally, their march was brought to an end, coming to halt before a large body of water. Despite being miles deep beneath the surface of the moon, the water before them glimmered and glistened. Light filtered in overhead, and waves lapped at the shore. A breeze washed over those assembled, taking away their words.
This kind of sight was reserved solely for... well, not anyone of their class or wealth status. You needed to own your own planet to be able to get into resorts with views like these.
“Quite the view, isn’t it?”
The Captain jolted, the voice coming from right beside her. It was one of those four legged creatures from before, with the four large tails, four pointed ears, and covered in fur. She hadn’t noticed, but the rest of their captors backed away.
“Where are we?” The Captain asked again.
“Luna,” the creature responded. “This is all that remains of Earth’s moon.”
That caused everyone to turn toward the large, four legged creature, various expressions of disbelief displayed.
“That’s impossible, it was destroyed with the Earth.”
“This is nowhere near Humanity’s section of the galaxy!”
“How could that-”
“Children, please, be silent,” the creature looked them over, its four eyes blinking slowly. Several protests rose up, and the creature replied once more. “I am thousands of years old. You are all children to me. Don’t argue.”
That shut them up. That kind of thing was impossible, the technology for that kind of lifespan was locked away behind a several trillion credit wall. How could this creature be that old?
“What are you?” The Captain finally asked.
“Quadrupus-Lupari,” it answered. While several of her crew-mates stepped back in shock or fear, the Captain and the S.O. raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t look like one,” the Captain replied, completely unimpressed.
“Have you ever seen one in person? Our visage is greatly exaggerated on your propaganda reports. It’s quite a shame, our species were once close allies. We were one of the first uplifted by your kind.” The alien spoke. “You are the captain or your ship, correct?”
“I am.”
“What is your name?”
At that, she paused. How long had it been since she told anyone? How long had it been since she thought about it? Years at the very least, and the answer struggled to come to mind.
“...I can’t remember.”
“Poor dear. No matter, follow me please, your friends will be safe.”
There was no room to protest as the large creature circled around her and nudged her forward. The duo left the group at the beach, and began their walk.
“Why are you doing this?” The Captain asked.
“To save more people.”
“Save? Your alliance shattered the Earth and-”
“Who do you think benefits when a war starts? Who’s never in the fight and makes the supplies? Who profits from it?”
The Captain had no words.
“Come along, I have the original first contact records. Let me show you what really happened.”