Any Other Questions?

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. There are a lot of statements like that: that space is the last horizon of discovery, that robots are eventually gonna to rule the supercluster, or that there’s always a bigger fish—whatever that’s supposed to mean.

As long as humans have had brains, they’ve loved to fill them with all sorts of clichés and nonsense. Now, why I could remember all that garbage, but not my own name… now that’s what really puzzled me.

Speakin’ of which, these handcuffs are a little tight, and your Haplorhini cronies smell terrible. If I’m gonna tell the rest of this story, you’re gonna take your stinking paws off me, loosen my restraints, and give me some breathing room. Kapeesh?

Anyway, there I was, sitting at the edge of my stasis pod, nursing a splittin’ headache. The glass shell covering the pod had shattered, amber cryogenic fluid oozing onto the floor below. No, not orange, amber; get your colors right. I knew waking early from stasis commonly resulted in severe nausea, vomiting, and disorientation, but I never recalled hearing anything about memory loss or migraines. However, based on the current state of my brain, I didn’t assume I was remembering anything correctly.

I had woken up to the sound of alarms aboard what appeared to be a Sovereignty-class frigate, based on the diagnostic information I found on the wall panel next to the door. Apparently this ship was a relatively new vessel, commissioned for exploration and small-issue policing. It’s the kind of ship you send to deal with terrestrial land disputes, or to initiate contact with a new space-faring species. It only needed a crew of two to three hundred, depending on its mission.

As an explosion shook the walls of my room, I assumed that this ship has stepped in some real deep Kathasaur guano.

I had already searched most of the room, but had yet to find any means of escape. The blast doors were sealed tight, and a repeating message was playing through the wall panel: “This floor has been sealed for your protection. Please remain calm. Remember: for the Sovereignty, safety is our highest priority!” The voice had that classic, overly chipper tone that seemed to come standard with all Sovereignty operating systems. It was like they had run out of budget and decided to use some travel resort vessel’s voice instead. I thought about putting a few rounds through the panel with a warp pistol, but the only one I could find was bio-keyed to the dead Pomusilon laying in the corner.

Oh right, the stiff.

I promise, it was there when I woke up.

I knew it had been dead for at least a few hours. Pomusilons decay incredibly quickly, and their green fibrous skin gives off a sickeningly sweet and musky odor shortly after death. That scent had already permeated the room.

I turned over the body, finding a badge clipped to the front of its jumpsuit. I couldn’t read Pomusili, but I had a real hard time believing the Sovereign translation of its name was “Gerald.” I unclipped Jerry’s badge, flipped it over, and slapped the hex-code on the back of the laminated card against the wall panel. That chipper voice returned, now with just a hint of solemnity. “I’m sorry, but designated prisoners are not allowed door access, especially during a ship-wide emergency. Enjoy your stay!”

“The hell you mean, prisoner?” I yelled back at the door. Yes, I felt dumb for yelling at a door, but what was I gonna do, yell at Jerry?

I was stumped. I knew that if I overcharged the warp pistol, I may be able to strain the circuitry controlling the door, maybe even overload it. However, I would have to place the barrel directly against the wall panel so the energy beams didn’t ricochet around the room. Here lied my problem: Pomusilons were dense; there was no way I was gonna drag him over to the wall panel. It’d be like trying to move a stack of apple barrels just after harvest.

Then I looked down at my utility belt, eyeing the small oscillating saw used for repairing small bits of hull damage…

Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t like Jerry was gonna need it anytime soon, right?

After a few minutes of work, and promising him I’d be back with it, I held Jerry’s “shootin’ hand” up to the door so the barrel of the warp pistol was flush with the panel. I crossed my toes, rolled my tongue, and pressed a green finger down against the trigger. I waited a few moments, hearing the pistol’s internal systems hit a fever pitch. Then I clenched my jaw, closed my eyes, and let go.

As the beam pulsed into the panel, it sparked something fierce and the door hissed open. I made sure to turn toward Jerry and salute him with his own hand. Seemed right at the time, seeing as I was taking it with me. As I crept into the hall, the windows showed an absolute hellscape outside. The outer hull had been ripped to shreds. Blast marks peppered the side of the ship and beam-scarring around the holes still glowed a brilliant purple. Whoever this ship pissed off could really throw their weight around.

Wait, was it weight or mass out here in zero-G? Whatever. You get the point.

I kept moving through the ship, avoiding both debris and bodies. Whoever came through this ship had no intention of leaving anything alive, and I had no intention of getting in their way. My foggy memory pieced together that I must be in the security corridor, and if the panel was right, the bridge would be up a ways, along with the escape shuttles. If any of them were still intact, and somehow I remembered how to fly, then I assumed I’d be freer than a whitemargin stargazer on Panthalassia-V.

No, I don’t know what a whitemargin stargazer is. I just remember the saying. I think it’s probably a fish.

Anyway, I kept moving through the ship towards the bridge, but stopped at the med bay to see if I could get something for my head. Lucky for me, all the supplies were still there. I grabbed a few stim-packs and filled them with whatever cocktail the treatment distributor designated for “severe head trauma.” I jammed a half-dose into my bicep and carried on. Yes, I didn’t follow “proper medical protocols,” but anyone who might’ve complained had already been riddled with blaster holes.

A few minutes later I arrived at the bridge. Standing on the upper balcony that wrapped around the room, I quickly realized just how screwed I was. On the other side of the ship, just outside the bridge's main viewing windows, loomed an absolutely massive ship. Even with my dumpster fire of a memory, I knew I’d never seen anything like it. For one, it was black as night, with not one identifiable marking or symbol. It looked like someone had taken the Grim Reaper from a campfire story and told it to go on a nice date with a battlecruiser.

Before I could get a better look, something moved out of the corner of my vision. I glanced down as someone finished pulling a large object out from beneath the bridge floor. As he stood, I could see he was wearing real strange clothes, like he was dressed for one of those costume parties back on Galahad-IX. Black robes, black pants, black gloves, all sleek and shiny-like.

Strangely, I recognized the fellow. In fact, he was the only person I knew.

He was me.

Well, at least, he looked like me. Maybe just a bit uglier. But it was like looking in a mirror. Except for those jet black eyeballs, of course.

He was holding the ship’s archive module under one arm, wires and cables torn like he’d ripped it out with his bare hands. In the heat of the moment, all I could think to say was “I’m just here for the gasoline.”

He grinned, raised the strangest-looking warp rifle I’ve ever seen and— before I could point Jerry at him—put a hole right through my liver.

As I hit the ground and started to black out from the pain, I jammed the rest of the cocktail I was saving into my thigh. Right before my vision blurred, I saw him open a warp gate, step through, and disappear. The last thing I saw was that ship wink out of sight, leaving me laying there on the bridge.

Next thing I knew, I woke up here, handcuffed to the table, looking up at your ugly faces. Then ya'll accused me of stealing a Sovereignty-class frigate, murdering and dismembering its crew, stealing high-value medical supplies, abusing the dosage of said medical supplies, destroying the ship’s archive module, and setting the ship adrift.

Any other questions? Also, can someone get me a new liver?