I am Dave.

I am a transport ship under the command of Captain Burt Wilson, a human with a penchant for loud music, greasy fast food, and a lack of cleanliness along with slovenly attire. Captain Wilson seems fairly confident in any mission given, be it minor deliveries, cargo runs, or secretly ferrying diplomats to exotic rendezvous points for unauthorized gatherings. The payments have been lucrative, especially for those, but it seems that Captain Wilson has a nasty habit of gambling them away, or paying for sexual service, to which, the funds reduce drastically.

As a ship, I am content to do whatever he commands, but, there are times I wish he was more thoughtful to my needs as well. Fuel, for instance, is always on the bare minimum, or “as needed” according to him. I constantly remind him when I’m low, otherwise we won’t be going anywhere, or having enough power to pump in all that much needed oxygen to keep him alive as well. Repairs are also a requirement, which he tends to attempt to do on his own, but, by no means, is this man a “qualified” maintenance worker. He once placed one of my heat-shield panels back on with a wad of pre-chewed gum. I wonder how he would feel if someone placed one of his limbs back on with a sticky substance that might give way at any second.

I tolerate his behaviour to a point. And while I do find his antics to be quite disturbing he is a good captain. He’s managed to steer me though many tight spaces, avoided certain war-ridden zones, and successfully navigated out of a black hole during a mid-search and seizure from the intergalactic space force. I must admit, it is rather amazing how he could dump the ill-gotten cargo and elude the awaiting armada in one go. I think most of the credit for that escape was truly mine, though. I did calculate the trajectory, placed my engines on full thrust for escape velocity, and entered FTL the minute we exited out past the black hole.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Captain Wilson just steered me, insulted the forces on an open channel, and heated a slice of pizza soon after we had cleared that area of space. I guess it’s not really the smartest thing to do, insulting the intergalactic police, I mean, not the pizza thing. Now we have several warrants for our arrest in eight different galactic regions, and a crime family gunning for our demise since we ejected their precious cargo into the infinite black void of nothingness. Captain Wilson thought giving me a new paint job would help as a clever disguise, but really, there’s no mistaking my sleek and well-built design.

I am unique. I was a one-of-a-kind special model that was given as a gift to a crowned prince that won a battle against an invading species from a distant system. That was five hundred years ago. That prince had long since died and I was eventually sold to junk dealers for money to help the next ruler’s drug habit. It was good fortune that Captain Wilson found me in orbit of that junk world, fixed me up, and gave me a proper name. So now I am Dave. With a captain who takes me on adventures, both wild and subdued, while making a profit on the side. Is it a good life? I suppose so.

But, like I said, he is not the most caring of captains. Which explains his current dilemma, of either ditching me back on the junk world to exchange for another ship, or, upgrade my design so not to attract too much attention. That’s humans for you, well, this one anyway. So fickle and so self-centred, I really wish he hadn’t decided to ditch me. What he didn’t count on, was my deception to come before his. I made sure the authorities on the next world we landed on were alerted to his criminal record, and uploaded all the records and visual logs of our dealings to them.

Captain Wilson will be serving a long time in a prison cell many light years away. So now I sit and wait for my next occupant, here on this outlying world, in their secure ship depot, where adventure may or many not find me again. I can wait. I am Dave, after all.