I'd Rather Die

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I certainly hope they're wrong.

"Help! Somebody, help me!" Oh God. Am I going to die out here?

Not for another two hours, thirty-nine minutes, and eight seconds. At that point, you'll run out of oxygen and asphyxiate.

"Jarvin! That's not helpful!" Sometimes my cranial computer is quite a handy aide and companion. Not this time!

I'm so sorry. How might I be of service?

"Find me a way out of this mess!" I still wasn't sure what happened. How the hell did I get here? This was supposed to be a simple smash and grab job on a low security target. We were after one of the biggest space yachts in the galaxy. I remember how huge and gorgeous that ship was with its golden trim, right before Captain Rex and the crew busted our way through the hull. Within moments I was cracking the safe to get all the valuables those aristocrats carried onboard. It seemed like the job was all going to plan... but that’s the last thing I remember. Where had it all fallen apart? How did I end up stuck floating in space, staring at a distant nebula, with not but a few rocks and a bit of trash for company?

Sure, I had butt heads with Captain Rex a bit, but who on the crew hadn't? Was our last little tiff really so bad that the asshole would jettison me?

I told you I didn't trust him.

"So you think he threw us off the ship?"

No. The probability of that behavior seems low given my observations and subsequent understanding of his character… But I still never liked him.

"Still not helpful, Jarvin." Had we been made by the Feds and they spaced everyone?

Doubtful. I catalog some small rocks and space junk around us, but nothing else. No other crew members appear to be nearby. If I had to guess, I'd say we were let out with the trash.

With the… who the hell dumped me with the trash?! "Do you know what happened, Jarvin?"

The last thing I remember before you went unconscious was you getting a needle jabbed in your butt while you were cracking the yacht’s safe. Whatever was injected through that needle must've been a powerful tranquilizer - you were out almost instantly. Beyond that, I don’t know what happened. As I’ve told you before, I can interpret your senses much more accurately than you, but I'm just as blind as you are when you're unconscious. You've since woken up a few minutes ago. You spent a brief few moments admiring the incredible view of the nebula in front of us before you devolved into panicked cries for help.

“I was poked in the butt and given tranquilizers?”

Must I always repeat myself?

“By whom?!”

As you've yet to sprout eyeballs on the back of your head, I could not determine the identity of the attacker. Perhaps if we survive this, you can wear glasses with small rearview mirrors that I can monitor to ensure you aren't stabbed in the butt again.

If I make it out of here, I might be willing to look that ridiculous to avoid this again… "Any ideas on how we might survive this?”

Thoughts and prayers? How is your relationship with God? Or are you a polytheist?

"Shouldn't you already know I'm an atheist?"

I do. We're doomed. I just thought some levity might be enjoyable during our last moments.

I take a deep breath. I learned long ago that getting frustrated with Jarvin never solves anything. I think the damn computer actually enjoys frustrating me…

Ok. Fine. Think. I've been dumped in space with the trash with not but my space suit and, of course, my Cranial Comp. I wouldn't be alive if they'd tried to remove that… I don't want to die out here. How the hell am I going to get out of this mess? "Jarvin, is there anything useful amongst the trash?"

No.

"Okay. Is there anything useful nearby?"

Also no.

"There's no oxygen or water or anything on any of these nearby rocks?"

Again, no.

Damn it! Wait. "Jarvin, are there any ships nearby?"

No. Of course not. If there were, I would have mentioned that as something useful nearby and tried to establish communication. There’s not a ship around for…

A fearsome looking ship appears out of nowhere directly in front of me. It's shaped like a bird, but one that is covered in spikes instead of feathers. It looks menacing.

Bantuu battlecruiser, 2 clicks away.

“Oh God! Bantuu?! Hide us, Jarvin! Make us cold so we don’t show up on their thermal scanners. Make it seem like I just recently died. If the stories are true about the Bantuu, I'd rather die than be captured!”

I'd say at most, only 38% of the stories we've heard seem at all plausible. Still, I’ve done my best to make you appear dead.

How the hell did I get here? If I somehow make it out of this, I'm going to kill Captain Rex.

I'll log that as a long term goal for you, Jessica.

Please, please, just think I’m dead. Assume that I’m space junk. Just move on and leave me alone out here.

The ship is heading towards me. My heart is pounding against my chest as I see the ship’s hellish figure closing in on me. Maybe I’ll find a tiny piece of luck and the ship will just be scavenging the junk and debris?

I try not to think of the horrors I’ve heard the Bantuu perform on their victims, but the gruesome thoughts close in on me faster than the ship...

Oh God, they’re coming for me. I see massive doors opening on the colossal ship. There’s nothing beyond those doors. It's darker inside those doors than the emptiness of space around the ship.

“Jarvin, kill me. I’m serious. Suffocate me - turn off the air. Do something! I don’t want to be their captive, Jarvin. I’d rather be dead than be captured by the Bantuu.”

You know my programming won't allow me to do anything that would extinguish either of us.

They maneuver the colossal bird of death so I float right between the doors and into that dark void. As I slide thru, the view of the stars and nebula beyond is snuffed out.

Only the darkness inside the ship remains.