If you go to space, bring a book.

The brochures always say that space is interesting and exciting, I get that, but what they don’t tell you is how much spare time you’ll have. I reach for my broom again and wonder how many times I’ve swept the same section of cargo hold. I expected adventure, naively of course, yet in the back of my mind the bug of reality itches me. Throwing the broom down, I carefully lay in my hammock and stare at the ceiling.

You may wonder why I sleep in the cargo hold now, and no it’s not because I’m this C.L.A.S.S.Y titled person whose is really a glorified janitor. It has everything to do with onions.

Onions in space, what a ridiculous concept.

On my first day, I was told that I’d be hot swapping, which is sharing a bunk with Nelson Wasnotch on a rotation. In theory, this sounds good. One person sleeps whilst the other is on duty. Pirates never sleep, right? Anyway, what people failed to mention during my walk-around induction was that Wasnotch is a relentless onion eater.

Imagine finely chopped onions caramelizing on a barbeque and the sweet aroma enticing you closer. Now take that image, kick it in the airlock and space it because he eats them raw and all the time.

On my first night, I almost gagged with the smell and quickly found an instruction tutorial on my comm unit on how to set up a makeshift bed. After falling through my new bed made of crates, I settled on a hammock which I fell out of a dozen times. On the third night, I only fell out once and needed the bathroom anyway, so consider that a win. Go. Me.

The hammock sways gently as my eyelids close, my mind’s eye feeling the surrounding ship bobbing in the ocean. The sound of rigging clinks and clanks in the light breeze as I drift off to sleepy land.

Then I’m rudely awakened by a nasty pirate.

The internal door shifts open violently and the short and fiery Tinks storms in, boots flopping loudly on the bay deck.

“It’s time Fox! Why are you sleeping? You’re due on shift soon, aren’t you?” She asks me as I try swatting her away with my eyes closed.

I hope she’s a dream, but I know I’m not that lucky. “Five more hours,” I reply, rolling over and ignoring her.

“C’mon Fox, you gotta see this. It’s tradition.”

“Can I watch from here with my eyes closed?”

She reaches into her pocket, and I hear the click of her taser as she replies, “There’s another tradition I could introduce you to.”

Deciding to be vertical and on my feet, rather than remaining in bed, writhing in agony, I roll out and follow her through the hatch.

Tinks has a skip to her step and begins whistling a tune I can almost recognize. I notice her boot laces are undone and wonder how she could be so steady, and carefree. I care too much about what others think, but I just put that down to youth. I haven’t seen the universe yet and I’m hoping that if I can pull this off, the Decree will be the way to do it. Yet Towers is young too, younger than me even, and commands a crew of reclaimers. How long has he been out here?

As I follow Tinks, I remind myself of my mission to capture Towers and deliver him to the Decree. I still haven’t figured out the entire plan, but at least I’m part of the crew. If I can work out how to get him alone…

We pass the captain’s quarters and I risk taking a glance inside. His door is ajar, and I glimpse something strange above his cot. Ornate shelving stretches the width of his room and is covered in something I haven’t seen since childhood. Dozens of action figures line the walls in what appears to be a trophy room. Except it’s void of trophies and replaced with plastic people in random bravado poses. I focus on one that seems out of place. Shoulder length golden hair shines on a male with enormous biceps.

But it’s wearing a suit. A dark business suit complete with silver tie.

I’m shaken out of my thoughts by Tinks who grabs my hand and pulls me into the cockpit area. The wonder of the small command deck hits me like a cold shower, and all my dreams of space come true in an instant.

Don’t be like that. I know I’m in space. I just spent most of it in the cargo hold, okay?

I stare out into the void, dumbstruck at the sight of exotic winds sweeping past. Before I realize it, we drop out of mag travel, also called space zooming, and into a complete anti-climax.

Glide, his feathers shimmering a fluorescent purple, sits in the pilot’s chair and motions to Tinks who spreads her arms in the air and announces, “Welcome to the Armpit!”

“The arm what?” I ask.

In the distance I glimpse a spec, which on the filthy canopy is a miracle, and realize Tinks is talking about a space station. As we approach, details pop into view of vertical structures attached to what looks to be an enormous spaceship. Then I notice landing pads on the sides with various vessels docking and launching.

“Is there any sign of them?” Tinks asks Glide, who shakes his head with a relieved sigh.

“Not this time. Let’s hope it stays that way,” Glide replies.

“Who are you…” I ask before Tinks dashes out of the cockpit.

“Don’t mind her,” says Glide. “She and Nelson are going station side to organize the armament.”

“So, I’m staying here?” I ask with a grin. “Seriously, did you just employ me to sweep the cargo bay? Shouldn’t I be going?”

A voice from the flight chair directly beneath us calls out and replies, “Not this time, Fox.”

I could tell it was Towers.

“It’s not nice to eavesdrop you know,” I state.

“I can dump you off before we land, if you prefer?”

“No, no, I’m good.” I retreat from the cockpit area. “If you need me, I’ll be mopping up my dignity.”

As I move past the center of the ship, a blinking light catches my eye. It flashes amber, then green and goes dark. I stare at it for a moment, shrug my shoulders, and carry on.

*

Days pass. Okay, it’s really hours, yet it feels like days. It’s like when you ask someone to get a takeaway for you and it feels like they’re gone until the next day. But if you’re with that person when they collect the food it seems to be a quick run.

I waste too much time contemplating these concepts, I think.

The Unbound docked with the station without a hitch. I was surprised to hear that Glide didn’t use the auto-land feature, but I imagine it’s something to do with his culture. That’s what Tinks told me when she and Wasnotch passed me in the cargo hold. I must admit when that ramp lowered, the adventure enticed me, and I considered sneaking out.

I am on a secret mission after all, and this gig isn’t permanent. Focus, I tell myself. The real target is still on this ship with Glide and Trenton. I make my way into the galley and can hear Trenton snoring in one of the gun turrets. I bet if the door had been shut, I’d still hear him, too.

Yet another reason to sleep in the cargo hold.

I glimpse the back of Glide’s head in the pilot’s chair, and he looks frustrated, before I realize he’s having an animated conversation with someone over his comm unit. I think if he ever yells at me, I’d just run, or cry and curl up into a fetal position. Whichever one makes him not hit me, I’m not proud. Not yet anyway. I think the rumors of the raptorins being complete herbivores are highly exaggerated as well.

He’s a walking dinosaur with feathers, and we’ve all seen those movies.

Reaching for the top galley compartment, I open the door to look for my food. On the left are roughly stacked containers, labeled with the crew names, one of which is only a skull and crossbones symbol. You don’t need a degree in astrophysics to know that is Tinks’ food, poisonous to all intruders.

I slide my food selection out and two of Wasnotch’s onions spill onto the deck, bouncing and then rolling toward the aft section.

I curse and say, “Hunting time you little buggers, time for some payback.” I still can’t get that onion smell out of my head and consider actually spacing them both.

Unfortunately, I only find one of them. As I pick it up off the deck, the light from before, amongst a messy bundle of wall components in the engineering section, flickers violet and green wildly.

“Is someone there?” A mechanical voice asks.

I freeze and reply, “Hilarious Trenton. You might have got me with the decompression test in the airlock, but I’m not that stupid.”

There is no answer. I wait intently, and as I shrug it off and leave, the voice returns.

“Oh, hello. Who might you be?”

I realize that the flickering light coincides with the voice and hesitantly approach, replying, “I’m Fox. What are you? No, no, no, not again. This is a trick, right? Tinks, is that you?”

The mechanical voice awkwardly laughs. “What a strange name for a person. Tinks? It sounds like someone obsessed with vintage cartoons.”

I pull back the cabling and recognize the module that Tinks and I bought on Apollo. I can tell that she gave it some attention by the shine on the outer casing.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Are you some kind of smart device or an automated control system?” I ask, feeling stupid that a grown man is talking to a wall.

The lights flicker, but there’s no answer. Then, after an uncomfortable silence, the voice replies, “I take offence to being compared to a lower computational process. I, as in a sentient and self-aware being, am an A.I.”

“You’re going to convince me of that, then upload the video online to shame me, aren’t you? I don’t believe you, even a little,” I laugh.

The voice huffs in reply and in my mind’s eye, I picture the voice crossing its arms over its chest. It’s in a suit with a gray cube for a head, if you’re wondering.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I upset you Mr. A.I?”

“My feelings are valid,” it replies.

“Of course, they are. Now what is it you want, Cube?” I decide to name the talking wall ‘Cube’, just because of the vision in my head. I’m not sure exactly why, but I feel like offending it, to test what it is, not to justify talking to an inanimate object. Before you ask, the module is really rectangular, and the irony isn’t lost on me.

“Cube? You’re not the creative type, are you?” It laughs for a moment as I stare at it. “Alright, we’ll go with Cube for now. What I want is control over the ship.”

I laugh hysterically and cover my mouth when I hear Trenton stir in the turret further down. Sound travels well in a sardine can.

“There is no way you are getting any control over anything,” I reply, then a fear grips me. “Wait, what module are you and what do you control?”

“Environmental systems. You see where this is going, right?”

“So, you’re an evil A.I. I believe you even less now,” I reply, feeling a bit more comfortable. There is no way this terrible excuse for a footlocker has control over anything substantial.

It suddenly becomes cold, like real cold. The lights dim and I’m reminded of my father’s log cabin on Christmas eve, when it’s dark and freezing and all you can see are tree lights. I notice my breath and panic.

“Just a little malfunction,” Glide announces over the ship-wide speaker. “We’ll be back to normal soon.”

I hear Trenton wake and get up from his gunnery chair.

“Was that you?” I ask, surprised.

“What do you think?”

“I think you have some questions to answer before I get the others and we tear you out of the ship,” I reply.

Cube laughs and says, “If you tell anyone about me, I’ll vent all the atmosphere on the ship before you can reach the EVA suits. And I’ll do it while you’re awake, so it hurts more.”

I’m conflicted. I don’t really care about the crew, as I’m just here to abduct Captain Towers, yet I still have a conscience. How many villains are onboard the Unbound, anyway?

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?” Cube asks.

“Total galactic domination or something, right?”

“Nothing as glorious as that,” Cube replies. “There’s something on the ship, something I can’t access, and I want you to get it for me.”

“If you’re after Tinks’ food containers you’re on your own.”

“I could vent the atmosphere now if you like and show my abilities?”

Thinking back to seeing my breath, I shudder at the thought. This thing better be legitimate because if I find out Cube is just a fancy climate control…

“I’ll tell you what it is when I’m ready to receive. Now shut your food intake and remember to keep this between us.”

Before I can reply, Trenton walks in with a groggy look on his face. “Were you talking to someone?”

“Just myself. It’s lonely in the cargo hold,” I reply half-heartedly. It was a terrible lie and my face flushes. I’m a terrible liar, remember?

“You really are bad at lying,” he replies, not caring what I was doing, or that I wasn’t truthful. He disappears behind the midsection door towards the forward section.

I hear the cargo hold door open as Tinks and Wasnotch return from their trip to the Armpit. Looking again at the lights, I’m tempted to blurt out the secret voice to the engineer and have her deal with it. It’s not really my problem and I make a mental note of where my space suit is. I could make it, I really could, but my conscience is slapping me around the face.

I’m surprised to see a grim look on Tinks and ask, “Is everything alright? Please tell me he didn’t buy more onions I just can’t take it anymore.”

With a frown, Tinks jerks her thumb behind her and answers, “We got visitors.”

I look over her head and see Nelson being pushed in the back by an armed security officer. The man wears full body armor complete with helmet, his beard just visible under his visor. Following him are two more in identical gear and then an odd person who I guess is their squad leader. If you can envision a stick figure with a pointy nose and sly grin, you’d be pretty accurate.

The leader tips his cowboy hat, that’s right an honest to god cowboy hat, and announces, “Good evening crew of the Unbound. As you know, Armpit regulations allow security forces to conduct routine searches of any spacecraft that we see fit.” He accentuates the last three words, revealing a superiority complex. “Now, if you would so kindly assemble your crew, including your captain, I would be much obliged.”

“Seriously Cameron?” Tinks says, throwing her rucksack onto the galley table. “What are you this time, some kind of space cowboy?” She laughs in that cackling almost psychotic tone and makes me shiver.

I realize they know each other, and this isn’t the first time the Unbound has undergone an inspection. This may be who Tinks and Glide were talking about when we first arrived. As far as I’m aware, security on the fringes isn’t exactly law enforcement, so I wonder how it works. Would we bribe them, or would they just take what they want and consider that an offering of sorts?

“You know the drill, Tinks. Now fetch Towers and let’s get this over with,” Cameron says.

“Not until you take that ridiculous hat off,” says Tinks with a glare and sly smile.

One of the three other security officers, the one who pushed Wasnotch, unclips his sidearm and dangles the weapon by his side. “You were given an order, little miss.”

“Wait, did you order your men to talk like you too?” Tinks asks, and I watch Cameron flush.

The officer raises his weapon and clicks off the safety.

“Alright, alright,” Tinks replies. She presses a key on the galley intercom and announces, “All crew to the galley. There’s this nice cowboy here that wants to sing us a story about how amazing he is.” She releases the button and boosts up onto the galley table. “There, happy?”

The mid-section hatch opens, and Trenton and Glide enter the galley. I smell the stale air as the life support system struggles to accommodate so many people in one space. A few seconds later, Towers walks in with a sleepy look on his face.

“I think I’m still dreaming,” Towers says, rubbing his head. “Are you wearing a cowboy hat, Cameron?”

Cameron calms himself, straightens his uniform and replies, “Under Armpit…”

We all snigger, including one of the security officers.

“Regulations,” Cameron continues, glaring at his officer. “We have a right to search the ship and remove any items considered contraband.”

“Which is just about everything to you lot,” Trenton states, scowling at the officers. “You think you can just board us again and take what you want? How about I give you something you’ll really remember?” Glide holds him back as the other officers unholster their side arms in response.

“Let’s just all keep our heads, shall we?” Towers says. He walks over to the galley storage, pulls out a bowl, and begins pouring cereal.

Stop making me admire you, Towers. Seriously, we’re in a hostile situation and he’s calmly fixing himself up some breakfast at gunpoint. Either he has a death wish or he knows something I don’t. Which is just about everything about living in space. And spaceships. And being an outlaw.

There we go. I like him a little less now.

Cameron’s face glows red and I can tell he’s insulted by Towers’ nonchalant attitude and lack of attention. “I’m serious, Towers.”

“Of course, you are. Now why don’t you start by searching the lavatory and find all the cares I give about you?”

“You can’t talk to our commander like that!” one officer blurts out, losing his false wild west accent.

“On my ship, I speak how I want to, and you want to know why?” Towers asks, strolling over to the officer, holding his bowl to his mouth. He makes a slurping noise and closes his eyes. “We’re on a contract from, Him.”

I have no idea what or who Towers is referring to, but they sound like a big deal.

Cameron laughs and says, “I don’t believe a word of it. Why would ‘Him’,” he makes a quotation mark bunny ear motion, “employ you bunch of degenerates?”

“Would you like to ask Him? I can arrange a meeting if you leave your home address and comm details?” Towers passes his bowl to Wasnotch and confidently strolls up to Cameron, leaning into his face. “And do you want to know the other reason?”

Cameron backs up and I notice his aggravated expression, shaking his head.

“If I’m going to die, it’s going to be in a grand fireball, and you can bet I’ll take the culprit with me.” Towers stares Cameron down, then in a quick motion flings his arms out and with a wide grin says, “Go ahead, search us, I’m sure there’s no consequences for you and your men when you’re finished.” He spins on one foot and marches back towards the front section of the ship.

Cameron looks to the deck embarrassed, and I know his decision. His arm rises fast, and I see a glint of reflection from his pistol, aiming directly at the back of Towers. Now I don’t consider myself a hero, not even a little. But something takes control of me, and I observe from the back of my eyes, like staring down a dark tunnel. I’m probably sounding very dramatic, and I can hear you saying, “Oh, here we go. This Simon Fox guy is some kind of ninja superhero.” No. I’m the janitor and I clean things for a living. Plus, I need Towers alive if I’m to capture him and join the Decree.

I totally don’t admire the guy either, before you ask.

Something brushes against my foot and taps lightly. Before I realize what’s happening, I reach down and collect the onion I lost earlier. The thing must have been cloaked or something, maybe playing a game of hide and seek until Fox cries with defeat. I swear I’m not in control and barely register what’s happening. I launch the deadly vegetable at Cameron and completely scone him in the forehead.

The man reels backward in a daze, drops his weapon and collapses to the deck, unconscious. I glance over at Tinks, and she stares at me in amazement, her eyes wide. Then she collapses to the deck, trying to say something through tears of laughter, completely hysterical. All I do is just stare at the fallen Cameron, passed out on the deck.

Trenton brushes past me with Glide and rushes the other officers, who quickly drops their weapons and back towards the cargo bay.

“We’ll go, we’ll go,” one officer says, putting his hands up in defeat. “Just let us drag him with us.”

“If you give us any trouble…” Trenton warns.

“We won’t, this is all him,” the officer says.

“Do we have to take him with us?” another officer asks nervously, then instantly regrets the question as the others scowl at him.

“Cameron isn’t staying aboard,” Towers states. “And if you follow us, the Unbound’s projectiles won’t be as healthy.”

Glide and Trenton follow the security offices out and I see Trenton kick Cameron in the foot as they disappear from view.

Tinks lies on the deck, holding her stomach and asks, “Are you sure we don’t have cameras inside the ship? I would love to watch that on a loop.”

Towers shakes his head, then turns to me and says, “Guess we can move you further into the ship. Can you cook?”

“I can pour a mean bowl of cereal.”

Towers smiles and with a small, satisfied grin says to me, “You know who those people were, don’t you?”

I have no idea. I try to think of something intelligent to say but just shake my head. Less is more, you know. I would only sound stupid trying to come up with something smart to say.

“That is the crew of the Relentless, a heavy gunship that makes the Unbound look cuddly.”

“But you said…”

“If they follow us, we’ll shoot them, right? That is true, but as powerful as our weapons are, you may as well just throw your onions at them for what good it would do.”

Tinks pipes up and asks, “Ooh, I’ll prep the suits for EVA, and we’ll give that a try.”

I know she’s deadly serious, too.

“Not today,” replies Towers. “Prep for launch. We’re behind schedule.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, hoping for a straight answer.

As the mid-section hatch opens, I hear Towers reply, “It’s time we go see ‘Him’.”

Tinks races to the forward section after Towers without a word.

I don’t know how much more madness I can take. I got lucky, really lucky, and if I hadn’t acted…

Glide and Trenton rush past me and I know I need to strap in. I head to the cargo hold and have an idea.

I walk up to where Cube is and notice its lights blinking. “Cube, are you there?”

There’s a moment of silence before the violet and green lights blink rapidly. “I thought I told you to wait for my instructions?”

“Just calm your farm for a moment,” I reply hastily. I hear and feel the engines spooling and know I haven’t much time. “I have a proposition for you.”

“How do I take that statement, exactly?”

I don’t get Cube’s meaning and continue. “If you get me alone with Towers, I won’t resist your demands.”

“You’re right, you won’t resist. Like I mentioned to you earlier, if you don’t do what I say…”

“Yes, yes, you’ll vent the atmosphere, but then you definitely won’t get what you need, will you?” I ask Cube, knowing I have at least some leverage.

“I think I might just space you, but you have a point. So, if I work out a way to isolate Towers, you will work for me?”

“With you, not for you,” I add.

I still don’t believe this module is an A.I. but playing along is the only thing I can think of.

“Deal,” says Cube.

I imagine shaking hands with a suited guy with the gray cube for a head, and begin towards the cargo hold to strap in. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Cube’s lights reflecting off the bulkhead and wonder just what the thing is.

We’re headed to meet the entity responsible for hiring Towers and the crew of the Unbound. ‘Him’ to the front, the Relentless to the rear, and a weird machine that claims to be an A.I. living an onions throw from me.

As I flop down into my hammock, which is totally good for space travel, before you ask, I feel the cold of my pillow.

I roll over onto my hand, and all I smell is victory.