In the movies, when a character saves someone’s life, they owe them. It could be a grand favor, or just a plain old blood debt. I like the sound of that last one. So, when I saved Jake Towers from being shot in the back by Cameron, the wild west security guard, I expected something. Not accolades or even applause, but at least something substantial.

What I got was a thank you, which I’m grateful for, and a promotion to dish pig. That’s right, I’m no longer the janitor but the guy who does the dishes. And why, no matter how many times you do them, are there always dishes to do?

I was going to be the cook, but after food poisoning most of the crew, Towers decided I was better suited at cleaning pots and pans. I can’t help but feel a little betrayed, and I use that feeling to spur me on with my abduction plans.

I just need to keep clear of Glide for a while. That sushi was nasty.

The benefit of working in the galley though is the information I’ve been gathering. I’ve learned a little about the crew without having to interact with them. I don’t think any of it is relevant, but you never know. Maybe there’ll be a trivia night and I can win something, like respect.

To my surprise, Nelson Wasnotch, with his raggedy appearance, is actually the son of a notable business executive. I forget the man’s name. I know, I know, I should remember. He was educated alongside the upper echelon of society on Trappist E, the planet Ananke. He even learned the piano. Wasnotch on a piano, what a strange image.

Trenton grew up on a ranch somewhere on the borders of human space and he was hesitant to divulge which. I think he’s embarrassed. That might have something to do with Tink’s mooing noises. I must admit, it was strange watching a serial killer looking man being teased by a five-foot-tall redheaded girl. I get it though, she scares the living life out of me and that’s without her zap-zap pen.

The others, Tinks included, wouldn’t share anything, but it’s early days yet.

I place the clean plates on the drainer and jump as the nearby intercom blasts me with noise.

“Fox, get to the cockpit,” says Glide, obviously still angry at me for the sushi incident. I really don’t blame him. I wouldn’t have eaten it myself.

I finish what I’m doing and enter the cockpit. It’s alive with sparkly lights, switches, and dials, and I suppress the urge to push something, or flick a switch or even scream the word “Buttons!” at the top of my lungs.

Instrument panels excite me, so sue me.

Glide side eyes me in the evilest way possible and I instinctively watch his hands, making sure he’s not reaching for a weapon. I used to trust this guy, to a point, but trust works both ways and I haven’t been the greatest symbol of that. If he knew why I was really here, he would break me in two in a heartbeat.

The avian rises slowly from his flight chair, hunches toward me, and says, “For your inspiring bravery in saving the captain, he’s bestowed upon you the privilege of piloting the Unbound for a ten-minute period.” He straightens and with a deadpan expression, adds, “I wish I could be as inspiring as you.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before he motions me to sit.

I immediately consider the offer a trap. There is no way this crew would or should let me near any controls, ever. But I don’t argue, and I sit in the chair, surrounded by buttons and panels. My grin reaches my face so hard it hurts.

This is what I’ve always wanted.

I could take us anywhere, anytime. Tower’s words when we met reverberate through my mind, and I now understand his meaning. The Unbound means freedom, not just physically but mentally and emotionally. Why bother with the small stresses in life when you have this?

I have ten minutes and won’t waste a second of it.

Glide leans over me, and his strong smell stings my nostrils.

“We have dropped out of mag travel.”

I nod and hold on to my smart remark. If there’s no exotic winds rushing over the forward screens, then duh, we’re in normal space.

“Okay, we’re out of Mag,” I say to him, trying to be cool.

Glide grimaces and, with his eyes closed tightly, replies, “I’ve set your access to maneuvering only.”

I look at him, dumbfounded.

“That’s the two sticks in front of you, plus the pedals. Seriously, you did actually fly the freighter you spoke of in your interview, correct?”

I stare at the flight sticks and can’t wait to get started. “I’ll be fine, Glide. Please let Towers know that I’m grateful.”

“What am I, your messenger pigeon?”

“No, no,” I stutter. “I would never call you a pigeon. You have feathers, pigeons have feathers, I just meant…”

“Feathers? What’s wrong with my feathers? Just fly us around in circles for eight minutes so we can continue.” Glide mutters something under his breath, but I soon forget as I grip the controls.

The flight sticks feel warm, and my fingers caress the triggers.

“The triggers are locked. Feel free to push anything,” Glide says, walking away.

I push the throttle forward and brace myself, expecting acceleration, only to be disappointed that it too doesn’t respond.

“Whoosh!” I yell, pushing the throttle forward again and pulling back hard on the flight sticks.

The ship lurches skyward. That’s “up” in space language, and I hear groans from some of the crew. Trenton yells a profanity that I won’t repeat and Tinks screams at me.

I hear her floppy bootsteps rapidly approaching and dip the Unbound’s nose back level.

“Seriously?” she yells at me. “You’re given one job.”

“Two actually,” I reply cheekily, referring to the janitor and dish pig roles.

“And were you making whoosh noises in the chair?”

I flush but for a change, don’t mind, and reply, “Have you ever done this? This will be my next job. Glide better be on his best behavior because I’m gunning for him. Well, I would if the triggers worked.”

“I’d sleep with one eye open after what you did,” she replies with a frown. “Though, it’s good to see him on his toes for once.”

I stare at her.

“What?” she asks.

I rapidly thrust my foot forward on the pedal and cause the ship to roll sharply right, and to my surprise she barely flinches.

“Ooh scary, Fox. Did you learn that move from freighter school? Like seriously, I’m impressed.”

I wave her off, not caring about her lack of enthusiasm, and reply, “Five minutes left. Let’s see what she can do.”

But fate has other plans for me.

My visions of space fighting in the Unbound, against the invisible targets in my head, whilst making whoosh noises, are interrupted by none other than Nelson Wasnotch. I hear the commotion before I see it and know something bad has happened.

From the engineering section, Wasnotch yells, “Are you crazy if you talk to yourself?”

I watch Tink’s expression darken as she replies, “Yes.”

“What if you talk to inanimate objects?”

“Crazier.”

“What if they talk back?”

Oh, this is not good. I try hiding my expression as my fear surfaces.

“Are your onions fermenting again?” Tinks yells back. “What are you on?”

“We have an evil A.I,” replies Wasnotch.

I quickly follow Tinks as she leaves the cockpit and hope to diffuse the situation.

“There’s no such thing as a sentient A.I.,” Tinks states.

As we reach Wasnotch, I notice the cabling removed from Cube’s module. It’s all over now. I didn’t keep my end of the bargain and the A.I is going to space us all. I quickly recall where my EVA suit is located.

“I was just trying to set the thermal controls,” says Wasnotch.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Trenton walks up to us with a puzzled expression. “Are you trying to set the ship’s temp again?”

“Yes, because you set it way too hot. This thing started flashing all these lights, and it spoke to me.”

“What did it say?” asks Tinks.

Wasnotch hesitates, as if no one would believe him, and replies, “Touch me and I’ll kill you. It swore, a lot.”

“You could try ask it nicely,” Tinks laughs, not convinced Wasnotch is telling the truth.

As she reaches in to manipulate the module, the green and violet lights flicker and a powerful voice commands, “Touch me and that will be the last thing you ever do.”

Cube has guts, I’ll give it that. No one ever threatens Tinks and lives, long anyway.

We all freeze. I freeze from fear of my secret getting out and the others are just plain confused. What if Cube blurts out my mission to capture Towers? I’ll be busted down lower than the janitor. I could be the next ship decal if they run me over fast enough.

“I’m getting my gun,” says Trenton.

I think he’s joking until he leaves, and I hear his footlocker open. How much worse can the situation get?

When in space, or anywhere else for that matter, never ask that. It’s not just in the movies that someone says, “How much worse can it get?” before the latrine hits the fan, or bulkhead.

The lights flicker, and just like before, the temperature drops.

Glide races past towards the cockpit and scolds us for leaving it unattended. “You’re not getting any more time on the sticks.” He takes one last look over his shoulder, then announces over the intercom, “Let me reset the climate control.”

“I am the omnipotent and ever watchful Cube. Unless you follow my commands, I will vent all the atmosphere within the ship, and you will die a horrible death. Especially you, onion eater,” Cube says, his voice booming over the intercom.

I watch Tink’s face for a moment. She tilts her head to the side, reaches into the module area and with a few clicks, removes the unit.

“Now, what have we here?” Tinks asks.

She rips the unit from the cables, strolls into the galley, and places it on the table. Then tools appear, as if from nowhere, and she disassembles the module. Within seconds, the housing is off and she’s rummaging around the electronics.

I should stop her, but I know the game is up. My plan was stupid, trusting a sentient A.I. to isolate Towers. It was super lazy of me.

Stolen story; please report.

Tinks holds out her hand and grins. Encased in a small black box is something that reminds me of an old comm unit. The internals are truly old, and a dome shaped glass is attached at the front. I recall seeing one in a museum once.

“What is it?” I ask.

“An old comm unit, with visual and audio send and receive capability.” She turns the box around and points to a port in the back. “This connection controls climate and intercom settings.”

“So, it’s not an evil A.I?” Wasnotch asks.

Tinks laughs and replies, “No, you idiot. There’s no such thing.”

From behind us, Trenton sighs. “Guess I’ll put this away.”

“What were you going to do with a rocket launcher?” Wasnotch asks.

“Kill an evil A.I, of course.”

I really hope he wasn’t serious. But the look on Wasnotch’s face was worth the risk.

“You agreed not to tell anyone about me, Fox,” Cube says.

I stutter but can’t release the words. My tongue is glued to the top of my mouth and there’s nothing I can do. Plus, I suspect the crew knows I can’t lie to save my life, which I might be doing soon.

“You knew?” Tinks asks. “Wait, did you think it was an evil A.I. too?”

I blush and reply, “No, there’s no such thing. I was just playing along until I could figure out what was going on. I thought it was one of you playing a prank on me.”

“Nice try buddy, but you’re as dumb as the rest of them,” Tinks says. “I’m impressed, though. You kept this secret from us. We’ll make a reclaimer out of you yet.”

“What is it then?” asks Wasnotch.

“It’s a transmitter with a built-in microphone and tracker. I’ve never seen one modified into an old comm before. It’s smart,” says Tinks, before yelling to Glide. “Hey birdie, run a sensor sweep of the area. I think we have a shadow.”

“If I were still plugged in, I’d space all of you right now,” Cube states. “But seriously, who is dumb enough to believe all my garbage? Are you lot new to space or something?”

“Who are you really?” I ask, realizing I’m still talking to an inanimate object.

“Find my ship and learn for yourself.”

I knew the module, I mean Cube, whatever his name is, wasn’t an A.I. The others might not believe me, but at least I still have my dignity. Not respect though, I think I’ll give up trying to earn that with the crew.

I follow the others to the cockpit where Glide is busy manipulating dials and flicking switches. I notice his targeting screen is blank and that he’s having trouble locating the ‘shadow’ ship.

“If it’s out there, it’s got some great stealth capability,” Glide says. “Oh, wait here’s something.”

For the briefest moment I see a flicker of a fighter, with the words ‘Class: Ghost Hawk, Name: Unknown’ on the display before it turns into something else.

In striking red lettering, the word Relentless appears with a graphic of the menacing gunship.

The Cube’s Ghost Hawk isn’t the only thing hunting us.

*

“Strap in people. We’ve dust eaters.”

I watch Towers give the order with the confidence of a five-star admiral. Seriously, I’ve heard of old souls, but this guy is ridiculous. If I were in his position, I’d be in an escape pod right now.

Come to think of it, the Unbound is designed by a company named Ruptured Systems, and they missed the memo on crew safety. Even the warning signs need signs. If it isn’t duct taped, it isn’t working.

Trenton and Wasnotch are in their turrets, and Glide is piloting the upper level. Towers is in the lower-level command chair. Tinks races past me towards her position in the engineering section to monitor critical systems. And me, I’m just standing here feeling absolutely useless.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask Glide, gripping hold of his seat. “I could launch some snappy comments and distract them with laughter?”

“Or your stupidity,” Glide answers, heavily distracted with his controls.

“There is that I guess.” I stare out into the darkness and a thought occurs to me. “I never noticed how black it is out there.”

“It matches my soul,” says Glide. “Now move.”

I listen in on the ship’s internal comm system as Towers accepts the call request from the Relentless.

“Why don’t you make this fun and power down your engines?” Cameron says, his face too close to his comm unit. He looks like a bulldog chewing a wasp in a fishbowl lens. “It will be like last time, without the violent ending. Who do I have to thank for that, by the way?”

“That would be me,” I say, chiming into the conversation. He sees me standing behind Glide and revulsion crosses his features.

“The janitor? So what name do you want carved on your tombstone?” Cameron asks, deadly serious.

“He’s part of our crew and will be treated as such,” says Towers.

“Then you will all need tombstones because I’m going to blast you into star paste.”

“How’s the head?” I ask him, surprised by my cheekiness. I can’t stand bullies. They’re the sort of people who use others to their advantage, in this case to make himself appear tough to his crew.

I hear one of Cameron’s crew in the background stifle a chuckle and almost feel sorry for the guy.

Cameron subconsciously touches the lump on his head and his face reddens. “This won’t take long,” he says, ending the conversation by shutting down the channel.

Towers gives the order over the intercom by saying, “Let’s get going. You know the location, Glide.”

“Shouldn’t we hop somewhere else, Capt.?” Glide asks, manipulating the navigation guidance. I watch the icons on the ship heads up display or HUD, and see arrangements of icons starting with “L”.

“What’s the ‘L’ for on those icons?” I ask, pointing past Glide’s face.

He slaps my hand away from his face and replies, “It stands for loser. Now move.”

“This has to be done now,” replies Towers. “We’ve spent too long on this task to deviate now. Spool the drive and get us to L0114. It’s alright if the Relentless follows.”

“You’re the boss.”

I peer at the luminous blue planet in the distance and notice the specs of an asteroid field behind the L0114 marker. Then I realize I’ve no idea where we are. That just shows how much of a ground pounder I really am. I stop myself from asking any more stupid questions and decide to let Glide do his job. My neck is on the line too.

Glide flicks a toggle, and the reverse camera shows the gunship Relentless bearing down on us. Our ship is completely stationary and if we don’t get out in time the enemy’s guns will shred us, and I don’t mean the cereal Towers was eating. I mean complete obliteration.

I wonder if Cameron is more intent on killing Towers or me?

The Relentless’s guns pivot to face us as they approach weapons range, and the Unbound’s engines scream, powering up for the short skip. Then we’re streaming away and leaving the idiots in the dust.

Now I realize what a dust eater is. Stop it now, this is new to me remember?

The asteroid field dominates the cockpit display, twisting and violently colliding with each other. I wonder if L0114 is just a ploy to entice the enemy in so that it collides with the space rocks? My question is answered as Glide forces the throttle forward and engages the afterburner. The sound within the ship roars and my ears pop from the acceleration.

It turns out there is actually sound in space. It’s the noise inside the ship from all the stuff outside that can kill you. Like giant psychotic rocks, engines, and weapons. Then there’s other ships, radiation, accidents, environmental failures. That last one makes me think of Cube. Who would go to so much trouble to acquire something from the ship? How did he or she even bug the module we bought and how would they even have known which one? Were they all bugged?

The Relentless appears directly behind us, stationary as it recovers from the quick hop, but still as menacing. Projectiles pepper our shields as five multi turrets open fire, washing out the displays and tripping our ships warning klaxons.

Glide quickly mutes the alarms and focuses on our destination ahead. I feel fear like never before and honest to god, I need the latrine and not just because I didn’t go earlier. What Glide is heading for scares me even more than the dust eaters.

An enormous rock.

I can’t see open space anymore as the small planet gets larger, and even I know we can’t maneuver around it at this speed.

Glide flicks a bright switch and I hear a pop of intercom as a face appears on the display. It’s a navigation robot, similar to the ones I’ve seen on our journey here.

“Send IFF codes or doors shall remain closed,” says the robot in a monotone and mechanical voice. “Further communication will be considered hostile.”

“He means well, I’m sure,” I say, trying to lighten the situation or just my fear.

Glide enters a code, and the robot says, “Accepted. Landing pad five.”

Large teeth open, like in that vintage space movie where the ship flies inside the rock like this one. Except the teeth are metal and it’s really docking bay doors.

This thing is a genuine asteroid base. Now I really feel like a space pirate that we’re still calling reclaimers.

Glide rips both flight sticks back, causing the Unbound’s nose to lift violently and strafe the ship down into the bay. I’m no engineer, but the opening is easily big enough to accommodate the Relentless as well. Are there laws on shooting other ships inside hollow asteroids on the landing pads?

Looking out the sides of the cockpit, I see large turrets mounted near the pads and assume that would counter any hostility. I doubt Cameron would have sent IFF codes as well, so they might just begin blasting. Unless we’re too close and the base won’t risk hitting us.

There’s so much to think about out here. I really am naïve. If I could go back in time and tell myself how much of an idiot I am, I’d probably mess that up, too.

The ship’s landing gear extends, and we hit the pad hard.

“Arm yourselves and get to the cargo hold immediately. We need to beat Cameron and his crew inside the main complex so Him can lock them out,” orders Towers over the intercom.

Glide almost bowls me over as he sprints past, and I follow. Within moments, we’re all in the cargo bay, clicking our helmets on and testing each other’s suits. Everyone has small automatic rifles except me. The door lowers and we sprint across the landing pad in slow motion.

I can’t help but glance over to the Relentless as it touches down and wonder why it still isn’t shooting.

Tinks runs alongside me and must have seen my expression. “If a ship fires weapons in here, the base will blow them up good.”

“They can only kill us with handheld weapons?” I ask, completely reassured.

“That sounds about right,” she replies. “You’ve got your personal IFF codes to get into the main complex, right?”

I stop in my tracks and stare at her, dumbfounded.

“Wow, you are so stupid,” she laughs, grabbing my arm and pulling me along.

How can someone joke in a time like this? We’re about to be gunned down by vicious law enforcement and she’s trying to kill me with nasty pranks.

We reach an airlock door and Trenton slams his palm down to begin the pressure cycle.

“Hit it harder, it’ll go faster,” Wasnotch says to him with a glare. “It’s not like our lives depend on this door operating or anything.”

I look over to the Relentless and watch in horror as Cameron and his armed crew race towards us with triple their original numbers. A few of them kneel and take aim, but the projectiles miss completely, ricocheting off the nearby bulkheads. I know what special school these guys trained at.

The door slides open and we leap inside, closing it behind us. I can’t help but laugh when Tinks gives them the universal sign language for goodbye through the plexiglass port. It isn’t a friendly wave. Within seconds, the inner door opens, and we sprint further into the complex.

“Where do we go?” I ask, panting. “Isn’t there some kind of security personnel that can deal with the space cowboy?”

“Him doesn’t keep armed forces here in case of mutinies or paid insurrections,” replies Towers. “If we reach his office, we’ll be safe. Cameron would never mess with Him.”

“What’s the deal with this guy, anyway?” I ask as we bolt through endless corridors and internal airlocks.

We wait for another airlock door to cycle and Trenton replies, “We complete a lot of Him’s contracts in this sector or space. He’s basically the employer you don’t fail and never cross.”

“So, this Him guy is a gangster?”

“Of sorts,” Towers replies.

A red door with a white stripe cycles, different from the rest. As it slides up into the ceiling, I race through, then freeze at the sudden sound of it crashing down behind me.

“What’s going on!?!” I yell through the now closed security door. I’m panicked and the fact I’m yelling at another inanimate object doesn’t occur to me. I’m completely alone on this side, and fear for my crew. There, I said it. My crew, even if it’s just short term until I capture Towers.

Towers puts his face up to the security glass and taps his helmet. I accept his chat request with my comm unit, and his helmeted face appears.

“Look, I don’t know why the door did that, but we’ll have to find another way in,” Towers states, his breath lightly fogging his visor. “Now listen carefully. From here on, we’re going to need your help to get in, understand? It’s very important that you remember that.”

I stutter a reply, then compose myself and ask, “Where am I going? Do I find this Him? What can he do against an armed crew?” So many questions and I see Towers dismiss them.

“Follow the white stripe across the wall and it will take you to his office. When you get there, you’ll be safe from Cameron and his men. Just do me a favor?”

“Anything. I just want this mess over with.”

“When you see Him, don’t laugh. He doesn’t like people at the best of times.”

I have no idea what Towers is talking about but begin running down the corridor, following the white stripe on the wall. Who would have thought that space makes you fit?

Five minutes go by, and the wall stripe leads to a set of frosted glass doors. I look down at my comm unit on my wrist and try to contact Towers and the others, but there’s no reply.

“Signal must be dead,” I say to myself.

I take a deep breath and step forward, the doors automatically opening. In hindsight, I should have knocked. I don’t want to be impolite to a gangster that I might soon owe my life to. Imagine what position he’d promote me to? I don’t think ‘Cleaner’ has the same role description as my other jobs.

As I enter, I see a large oak desk in the center of a modest sized room. On it are three large terminals blocking my view of Him. The screens cast a soft azure over the desk, creating more shadows to conceal the gangster.

I take another tentative step forward and notice the walls are decorated in an assortment of starship blueprints, all in aluminum frames and behind glass. They’re perfectly spaced apart with a schematic of a cutter class ship in the center.

“Umm hello?” I ask, removing my helmet. “I’m here with Towers and the crew of the Unbound.”

The vermillion carpet looks very expensive. I guess it’s that color to hide the bloodstains of Him’s enemies.

“Is it alright if we talk? The crew is in trouble and being chased by some maniac space cowboy. We need to get them in here and activate your lockdown, or whatever it is you can do.”

Silence.

I can’t take it anymore. I walk up to the desk and risk peering around the terminals to get a glimpse of who I’m talking to.

Have you ever had a moment where you’re so sure of how the universe really works, but in a split second you realize you know nothing? Like really nothing, as if you’ve lived your entire life under a space rock?

That’s what I feel at this very moment.

Sitting in the office chair, with arms extended as if using a keyboard, is a plastic figurine with bulging biceps in a dark suit, complete with a silver tie. It’s hair is shiny, golden, and shoulder length.

I stare in disbelief, my mouth gaping open.

“No,” I stammer. “This isn’t right…”

I check the terminals and see Decree ships, landed in the docking bay, next to the Relentless. The Unbound is gone, its landing pad completely clear. Panic sets in as another terminal shows Decree troops storming through the corridors I came from earlier.

Then I find the answer to my dying question. Lifting a golden plaque from the desk, I read the name across it.

Simon “Towers” Fox.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Towers should be here with me so I can turn him in and join the Decree. Now they’re going to think that I’m Towers and responsible for all the criminal activity in the sector. Not just by the crew of the Unbound, but the gangster known only as ‘Him’.

The Decree is going to think I’m Him.

So many questions run through my head. Did Towers know I was after him, or was it just a coincidence? He obviously wants someone to take the wrap for all his misdoings by framing me, which is smart. There I go again, liking the guy even though I’ve been betrayed.

Did the entire crew have knowledge of this mission? How did they escape past the Relentless? How did the Decree know to come here? Was that Towers as well? Is Towers ‘Him’ or were they working together?

I fall to my knees as agents burst through the door, screaming at me to place my hands behind my head. The Decree will never believe me.

Ringing through my mind is the fact they think I’m Towers. Am I Towers? Was I the captain of the Unbound this whole time?

No, I don’t see dead people. I heard you ask that.

As the cuffs clamp down on my wrists, my inner voice reassures me.

Thankfully, I’m bad at interviews and a terrible liar.