Aread
Aread was a little early at the spot that he and the trader had connected to meet up. So early that he’d broken his coffee rule, at the expense of his own volition, and again wrote up a new sign that said: “To all rules that have come before, this new one replaces everything now: PLEASE STOP DRINKING COFFEE IN THE COCKPIT. Thanks.”
Aread loved it. The idea of coffee in the cockpit and being at odds with himself over something so simple and digestible felt worthwhile for him. It was a rare oversight to be both negotiator and defender on a certain ideal, but Aread was a big boy now, and big boys deal with certain situations in a bolder sense. Like, what exactly to do when you arrive early at a trading point and do people still drink coffee in space?
Of course they do. Coffee’s good.
Being a sophisticated seeker and priding himself as one of the best in his occupation was the only way forward. How else do you ever become the best at something if you never think of yourself as becoming good at that one thing? At the age of 18, Aread already had that idea. But two years ago Aread wouldn’t be stupid enough to go alone down to where a tiny slab of meteor rock drifting into space with just a tiny little establishment. He could be that stupid, but he certainly won’t risk it.
So, what to do now? Aread asked himself. A million things popped up like a cascade, splashing up like a towering tsunami. He wasn’t sure which one to listen to, and he had time to spare, so Aread entertained some of them. Getting to all of them would pool the entire life essence out of him which is something he knows cannot be replaced.
There was always a priority to how Aread thought. Someone at the very top, and then everything else slowly goes underneath it.
Rosie. This was a no-brainer.
What's she doing now? Is she happy? Is she still invested in trying to make a future for herself so that she and her family could live together peacefully? Make earning credits a forgone conclusion? Perhaps she decided that the future she yearned was nothing but a pipe dream that was attached as seamlessly as it was quickly, and that was the wrong thing?
What if… what if Rosie had already found ‘the one’?
Aread leaped up from his seat as if a scorpion had attacked his butt, his hand still tugged at the mug of coffee. He was not entitled to spill that, but that was a scary thought he just had. What if it was true? What if Aread’s long absence from seeing her and her seeing him meant that she had found someone else in this big, big galaxy? What if she was already married? With three beautiful kids? Two boys, one younger girl that carried the traits of their mother?
What if she named them Aston, Breta and Luna? What if they grow up and never become a hunter or a seeker?
What if her future is none of your business?
Oh shit.
Aread was in the dark place. It happened more often than he thought, coming back to it again and again, like a tape recorder than had spun out of control and needed to be fixed. But what’s the difference when it was always going to spin out of control again? He needed to think about something else, not this mess or whatever it was.
“Trink,” Aread said, plopping back down onto the seat. “Make me another mug of coffee.”
“Sir, regarding the sign-”
“Ah, galaxy-ridden!” Aread threw a fist up in the air. Though, not with the hand holding the coffee. “Ignore that sign, and do what I just told you. Coffee. Thanks.”
Trinket beeped into the system’s speakers. “Another mug of coffee coming right up, sir.”
That’s right, Aread thought. That was right. All these thoughts can go on a suicide mission. And never come back. Which is why they’re going on a suicide mission. They’re not coming -- alright, I’m losing track of everything.
Aread wasn’t going to let himself get consumed by these thoughts. Not before a mission, not after and definitely not during. But these thoughts come and go, like another cascade with feet baked upon by the eternal sun. These thoughts don’t usually trespass often, but when they do, they are a lingering sensation that only mutual emotionalists could feel and understand. So far, the people that he’s met have comprised of buffet eaters, gem throwers and very less emotionalists. In some way, that was good. It was a fascinating insight to Aread’s own mind that made him unique, and perhaps shook the friendship he had with Rosie.
Did it perhaps compromise the future of our relationship? Was I just too soft-spoken when I was with her? What if she never liked me? What if speaking to me was just entertainment? What if she got married to Jet Cadence?!
Galaxy-ridden, Aread! Get it together!
Aread couldn’t help it. The only way to get it off his mind it seemed was to get to work, hopelessly and helplessly, and somehow he knew it.
He got off his chair and waded his way towards the big glowing green bag that had been placed by the side. After all, he was a seeker with a deal to deliver. Checking to ensure that the goods he was meant to deliver were there was just the least he could do. Aread wasn’t the kind to be betting on which item was just more special than another, only on one exception, otherwise he was like everyone else in this darn galaxy: do your job, get your due credits, and move the hell on. That was the honest truth.
As he opened up the bag of treasures, Aread was sure that his recent trip to Dartonia, Dread King’s personal travelling corvette slash living space slash personal prison slash working space, would eventually put him on a list somewhere. Not the kind of lists where they give out presents or anything like that, but the kind of lists that would make sure he got what he deserved.
Dartonia was a large ship, ginormous by Aread’s eye-looking talents, if there ever was such a word, but Aread was always more interested about the contents inside this huge ship. Specifically, the crystal he was tasked to ‘retrieve’ by a client who had offered him an undeniable huge sum of money. Whether the crystal was an alien’s baby or if it was Dread King’s prized jewel, Aread was sure that he was going to get to Dartonia and retrieve the crystal at all costs. It was a shortcut to the future he dreamed of. He wasn’t going to turn that down.
Being a real professional, Aread considered all opportunities as well as all the negatives that could be brought about.
Do I want to be dead, or do I want to be rich? Or do I want to be dead and rich? These were just some of his minor thoughts, of course. But what he forgot to place on the scale, which consisted of just two ends, like most scales, was that it was Dread King’s personal ship. For most people, the Dread King wasn’t just a king in the galaxy, even if his name gave it away. He was a titan of dread. He was the biggest, baddest, and most borderline insane mafia in the galaxy. Those who messed with figures like him usually ended up in two kinds of dead ditches: ones they dug themselves, or one where the Dread King made sure they dug so that they could get in it.
Aread was far from wanting to be caught in a ditch, and neither did he have the time or efficiency to properly dig one too. All the better to be blasted off into space and never return, if he was to die. Not that he was going to do that.
Aread grabbed the first thing he could from inside the bag: Extralia crystals, about a dozen of them. A high-powered fuel crystal that enabled factories and mines to be powered up without having to keep a watchful eye on them. Extralia crystals can last up to a decade, and this allowed for it to be used by industrialists, even in high-populated, extravagant sectors in the galaxy. Their usefulness paired with their long lasting time has disabled any major profit for seekers. Almost everyone and their busted up spaceships seemed to have it, and that made the crystals as special as a neon-coloured plasma pistol.
It looks cool and everything, but it won’t fetch me much.
From inside, Aread took out a few other crystals: blue, red and a few other shiny diamonds. Other than looking downright majestic, these crystals seemed to have been forged by gem-crafters who were only looking for a quick buck, or to use it as leverage against dealers who knew nothing about shinies, which were largely the same. Aread knew this, but getting a few of these on his travels would prove to be useful, and no, what made him a grifter didn’t entirely separate him from being a seeker. They were usually not existing problems.
Apart from Prodius dice, used by space mafias as a currency to deal with, and Miasmarra, a gem used by Police Enforcers of the Galaxy (or known butt-hurtedly as PEG) to power-up their human nets (HN), Aread took out the final object inside his green bag, apart from the glowing silver crystal: a small metal ball that was unfettered, seemingly untouched until Aread placed his seeker hands all over it. The silver emboss made the ball look extremely special, but it was only just.
He had picked it up from the bin from one of Dread King’s working industries. He wasn’t about to go looking for something that would cause him any trouble, and so he just went there for what he was looking for. This small little ball was just like topping on a transparent cake.
“Sir,” Trinket said aloud, throwing Aread off.
“Trink,” Aread said, clutching his heart to his chest. “Please do me a favour and don’t speak until I tell you to. Or if you want to, just don’t sneak up on me like that again.”
“Okay sir, but-”
“What did I just say?!”
“Sir, I just wanted to let you know that the thing you are holding in your hand is actually an iBot,” Trinket said.
An iBot? What?
Aread let Trinket’s words sink in for a moment. Then he scrutinised the small metal ball. “This,” he pointed slowly at the ball, “is a bot? Are you hearing yourself right now?”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Right, that answer has got to be a no. Something’s wrong with Trink.
“If you gently press on top of the button located at its head, you will begin the process of starting up the bot,” Trinket said.
Aread took Trinket’s words as a form of threat, from one android to another, he wouldn’t want the bot he was holding in his hand to go kaboom, right before he had even went through with his future. That would be a dark twist.
“Are you sure?” Aread said. “As in, it’s not going to kill me, or anything, is it?”
“No, sir. I’m affirmative,” Trinket said.
“Alright, stop talking Trink.”
The last time Aread took an effectual advice from Trinket, he had successfully captured the gem he was sent to procure. Maybe he was indebted to this robot voice after all.
Aread lifted his finger over the button slowly. He could hear the swan song in his ears as he did so.
I’m not going to die. I don’t want to die. Please don’t explode in my face.
He pressed it gently.
Lights began spinning around the ball like a disco light from centuries gone. Like a splash of paint, the colours burst around the room like a dance of explosion, and then it stopped.
Aread waited for a moment, his eyes big and his hands shaking.
“Did I kill it? Is it dead?” He asked, waiting for the chance to breathe again.
Then the top-half of the bot split open, and Aread dropped the ball immediately onto the ground.
“Galaxy-ridden damn it!” He yelled as loud as he could.
The top-half of the bot now resembled more like a head, with two antennas poking out on either side of a small flat rectangular screen. Then two green eyes popped up, now looking right up at Aread.
“I’m terribly sorry, but where am I? And do you happen to know where my master has gone?” the tiny bot asked with a little boy’s voice who had lost his toy. Four fans connected to a rod lunged out from all four sides of the tiny bot like a little helicopter from centuries gone. Aread wondered if there were any more surprises that perhaps the tiny bot had up it’s tiny sleeves. Or tiny chassis. Or tiny computer chip.
“I think the answer is no, but if you tell me his name maybe I could help you. Or her name. Not that it matters that I’m sexist. I mean, I’m not, of course, it matters but not right now, no.”
“Her name is Lyranna,” the iBot said, using its four fans as wings and then flying right up to Aread’s eye-level. “Have you seen her?”
Crazy, Aread thought to himself about how this little bot might actually be carrying an explosive inside it’s tiny chassis. Improbable, he thought right after.
“No. Can you tell me what she looked like, or something?” Aread said.
The iBot nodded by rolling it’s head up and down, and then turned towards a blank screen. On it, a projection of a young woman with denim coloured hair, a small heart tattoo on her cheeks, and a pair of black glasses hanging around her neck. She was pretty, exceptionally pretty, the royal business-like pretty. Too bad for Aread, he already had another girl on his mind.
“She is Lyranna Lowery, my master,” the bot said. “And my name’s Miracle.”
Miracle opened up the middle-compartment of his body, and a tiny hand held onto another rod came sticking out.
“Nice to meet you, Miracle…” Aread shook the tiny hand before it disappeared right into Miracle’s body.
“I didn’t get your name,” the bot said, eyes shining a different shade of blue, one that was pale.
That’s because I didn’t say it.
“My name is Aread Sears. You can just call me Aread, or you can follow what my artificial intelligence, Trinket, that lives rent-free in my ship call me, which is ‘Sir’. Of course, I programmed him to call me that because, why not?”
“I called Lyranna ma’am,” Miracle said. “Perhaps I was programmed to call her that as well.”
“So, we’re on the same page but different paragraphs. That’s good to know.” Aread scrutinised Miracle even further. “Trinket said that you were an iBot. Can you tell me exactly what it is your functionality enables you to do?” he asked.
“Well, my functionalities have been turned off, so I can’t exactly do what it is I have been made to do,” Miracle said.
“Who would do that?”
“My master. She never really told me why or why she didn’t have it turned on anymore. I just found that perhaps she was just annoyed by it. I am still capable of doing it, though it just needs some time preparing and setting up.”
If she deemed it annoying, then perhaps I shouldn’t turn it on, Aread thought. Killer explosives, protruding blades, lingering puppets with faces like teabags.
“That won’t be necessary,” Aread said, gulping at the thought of the ways he would die. At least he won’t die just yet, as long as he doesn’t start up the feature of this little killing machine.
Give it a chance, he thought. Maybe it’s a bot that heals. Or heals after destroying your limbs.
Aread turned and checked the contents of the bag. Other than all the other shinies that he had dug up earlier and the silver crystal inside, there was pretty much nothing else. Now, he just needed to put the crystal into another separate case where he could bring it to the dealer in a much easier fashion.
Easy now, he thought as he slowly pulled the crystal out from the bag. Aread needed both hands as the crystal was a little too big and he wasn’t going to go breaking it like that. When he finally did pull the crystal out, there was a glittering sensation that the seeker himself was sure that he couldn’t subdue.
There, in eternal money-making glory, the Cadellite Crystal.
The crystal was heavier than a normal rock, lying there in the seeker’s hands. The glitter and the shimmer as it appeared and reflected under the ship’s interior lights caused Aread to peek his eyes at the crystal.
The shine is going to be a problem.
Aread had been studying crystals for a while, though only because he was a seeker and nothing else. But like what he was holding in his hand, of which he was sure was either one, a superpowered weapon, or two, capable of super powering a weapon, there was certainly going to be problems to be had.
The problems I don’t have to deal with.
The crystal had been polished beyond belief, sparkling like a torch with layers of cracks that only served to make it seem like it was part of a radioactive iceberg that had been destroyed and left with.
“Alright,” Aread said, slowly placing the crystal into another suitcase which he was bringing to the dealer. He placed all the shinies he took out back into the green bag of his. With a lingering look at Miracle, Aread found it hard to cope that there was another bot that could talk, fly and do whatever it is that was now disabled. He’d always wanted something like this as a child, and yet now that he had grown up, this was all just immediate child’s play. It was like the aftereffects of medicine after being sick for a full week and realising that one should not deserve to be sick at all.
“Are you going to put me back into the bag, sir?” Miracle said, with a tone of a child that wished they were sick.
What a guilt-processing question.
“What?” He said. “Of course not. I think you can stay. Just don’t touch anything with your… little thing that comes out of you.”
Miracle’s eyes flickered brightly. “Thank you, sir!” The middle-compartment opened once more, and this time a thumbs up emerged.
Do bots not listen to their sirs and ma’ams or am I just not respectable enough?
“Okay, that wasn’t necessary, Miracle, but thanks. I appreciate your... thankfulness.”
Aread returned back to the chair of the cockpit and checked the time that was located on the dashboard. Miracle slowly followed behind, hoping to get a peek that was in front of his new master.
“Trink,” Aread said, “bring up the engine levels of Mifter.”
Trinket went quiet like a sitting duck.
Oh, right. These galaxy-ridden next-level technology…
“You can speak now, Trink,” Aread said, almost about to facepalm himself.
“Thank you, sir. The levels of the Mifter would allow us to travel a few more locations in different sectors, especially back to Calderac,” Trinket said. “There’s more than enough for us to reach back home.”
Aread nodded. “It’s time for me to go, then,” he said.
As the seeker stood, Miracle was in the way between him and the next room.
“Miracle, you have to move cause’ I’m going to knock into you if you don’t,” Aread explained, doing a little hand flutter movement.
Miracle moved aside, but still followed his new master as he went into the room.
“Where are you going, sir?” Miracle said softly.
“I’m leaving for awhile, but I’ll be back.”
Aread stretched his arms to fit into his traditional blue blip suit. “Trink, I need you to check the signature on the bar,” he said.
“There doesn’t seem to be much activity happening down on the bar,” Trinket responded almost immediately. It was almost as if he was withholding information for the sake of withholding it.
Perfect, Aread thought.
“And the ship I’ve told you to track? Has it come into sphere yet?”
“No, but I am detecting a ship entering within radius of us at a clear and steady speed.”
“Miracle,” Aread said, as he clipped his plasma pistol into it’s holster and headed for his arcadium-powered gloves. “I need you to stay here, and don’t touch anything, and maybe think of a shorter name that I can call you. Miracle is too long and I need my breath for breathing. Some need it for eating, drinking, speaking, I just need to breathe, is that alright?”
Miracle nodded reluctantly, unsure. “Okay, sir,” it said.
The seeker nodded and smiled.
Perhaps my experience with artificial intelligence did serve me well.
“Prepare to land, Trink,” Aread said, and held onto the briefcase that contained the crystal and sat down onto the cockpit.
In a few minutes, Mifter landed without hiccup onto the sporadic parking lot of Fresnic’s Bar. And immediately, as Aread’s cold boots met the hard rock surfaces of the tiny meteor slab, he could tell that something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
There were other ships here, and generally, that meant a world of problems for Aread. A seeker could only deal with certain static traps, or dynamic traps too, but people? That’s not really his forte. It was like a hunter trying to go through a hundred laser traps and failing at the first one. It was going to be utterly embarrassing.
Aread stepped out from his ship. It was the last time that he was doing this, until he has to do it again, but for now, he was sure that there was nothing else following this that could top the experience of returning home.
Well, there’s watching the fireworks. Or the Buddy Gang games. Batterium sucks. Oh, and Rosie, of course.
Many things awaited him at home, and all he needed to do was close out this deal. This was more important than he could possibly imagine, and for Aread, he had imagined a lot. A lot more than other seekers, and definitely a lot more than most people.
Aread carried onto the rocky path that lead to the tiny establishment that resembled a bar. In gemstone letters, brighter than that of a bulb in a person’s head wrote: ‘Fresnic’s Bar! Uniting the galaxy with drinks to quench your thirst!’
He was impressed first of all by the details; the gemstones were indeed placed to near-perfection to illuminate every word delightfully. He walked up the steps that followed and came straight to the double metal doors.
Wait.
Aread stopped. He checked his suit, his shoes, his hair. The mirror in the doors helped him to fix his posture and settle which hand to carry the suitcase in, and for a man about to finish what he set out to do, what better way then to go out comfortably and in style? The former more so than the latter.
What if this was it? What if, of all the times that he’d told himself no, and sometimes yes, could be made up right now, with just everything he needed? This could be the redeeming moment of his life. He held the case close to him and the handle clutched tight.
Breathe deep, he thought. It was the credits he needed to acquire the future. His future. And so, Aread breathed in deep and pushed opened the door. That was, after all, his idea of what breathing was meant for.