OCEAN OF EMPTINESS
By Serena Kay
CHAPTER ONE: Sayonara, Sianara Spaceport
“Look out, boy!”
Rayan ducked to the side to avoid a large crate barreling down on him. Mere inches separated him from a good skull crushing. His heart racing, he panted nervously and stumbled forward, tripping over his unlaced boots.
“Y’all right?” a weathered deckhand shouted down at him from atop a crane.
But Rayan didn’t even hear him – he’d already continued running. Breaking into a sprint, he hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and raced down the bustling space docks, glancing over his shoulder. Were they still coming after him?
Then came a flash of cameras, and the shout: “There he is!” some yards behind him.
Yep, they were still after him. And gaining.
Rayan tried to ignore the fact that he was running out of breath and energy. He charged through the crowds of people and darted to the right, near a line of buildings. The only sounds he heard were the thumping of his feet and the booming vibrations of his heart. If he could just make it a little further!
“He’s getting away! I can’t see him!”
Rayan didn’t look back this time. He ducked down low, skidded and weaved through the masses, and lurched forward into a small, shadowed alley in between two brick buildings. He flattened himself against the wall, gasping, and stayed there for a moment.
Please don’t follow me, please, please…
His chest was tight and aching. Swallowing and licking his dry lips, he cautiously peered out onto the main street for any sign of his pursuers. His eyes flickered from person to person, but he didn’t see them at first…
Then, he caught sight of the silver gleam of a camera, and the familiar group of people that were hunting him down. Would they spot him? They weren’t too close to the buildings, but they could change their minds and come over, asking the vendors. Rayan leaned back against the wall and waited. He watched the group until finally, they moved ahead of him and disappeared.
Maybe I should’ve listened to Mal after all, he thought regretfully. He usually listened to his older brother, but not this time.
Rayan paused a few more minutes before glancing up and down the street and slipping back into the crowd. He didn’t have much time before another group of reporters found him, so he had to make this quick. He jogged across the street to the starship docks and perused the different identification plates. The number, color, and variety of the starships docked at Sianara spaceport ranged from tiny Manda class vessels to grand navy Vesper class ships.
Rayan turned his head away and hurried past a gleaming jade authority vessel. He didn’t need anything big or flashy – just a regular transport would do. But as he passed by more and more ships, he was dismayed to find that most of them were navy vessels.
He jumped as a bedraggled man suddenly shouted beside him, “Reward! REEE-WAAARD!” Rayan stared at the man who held up a large screen. “Capture a Starmaiden! Reward of five hundred thousand flodraughts! REE-WAARD!” He all but shoved the thin data screen into Rayan’s face. “See here, boy!” he said, his odorous breath blowing unpleasantly into Rayan’s nostrils. “See here! Capture one of these Starmaids and you’ll get a reward! Look!” He pointed to the small, blurry object moving across the screen, surrounded by the blackness of space. “There’s the head… and there’s the tail, see?”
Rayan shook his head and hurried to get away from the man before the reporters took notice. “No, not really,” he blurted out. And before the man could object, he brushed past him and jogged forward.
“Rayan Thorn!”
Rayan’s head whipped around. Oh, bloody scrap. So much for staying under the radar. Ignoring the reporters’ calls, he turned and fled down the street. He needed to find a ship now – but they were all too big and easily noticed. However, a smaller ship at the very end of the docks suddenly caught his eye. Quickly, he swept his gaze over the vessel, over its crimson and grey hull blending in with the dark clouds and drab landscape surrounding it, over the sleek yet scratched bulkheads. It would do. It blended in, and that was exactly what he wanted.
Rayan burst forward towards the sign-up desk in front of the ship, not even bothering to read the ship’s plaque. He pulled out his Personal Data Unit from his pocket and tried not to trip over his boots again. He knew he should have tied them before leaving, but it wasn’t like he’d had the time.
“Excuse me,” he panted, skidding up to the front desk. “I need a job.”
The man behind the desk looked about sixty, pale, and wrinkled. Strands of stringy brown hair were combed over his bald head. Looking entirely out of place from the rest of his weathered body, his very fine clothes hung loosely on his lean frame. When Rayan spoke, the man looked up from writing something, paused, stared at him, and then bent his head down and continued writing.
Rayan blinked. “Uh, excuse me?” he said again, raising his eyebrows. The press was probably only seconds behind.
The man wrote for another ten seconds before looking up at him. “Yes?”
“I’m looking for a job on the ship,” Rayan said in a rushed voice.
The man eyed him carefully, taking in Rayan’s face, his disheveled, crumpled clothing, and his thick, muddy boots that were two sizes too big for him.
“Are ya now?” he said in a cracked, gritty voice.
“Yeah. Here,” Rayan said, thrusting his Personal Data Unit at the man, who squinted at him and wrinkled his nose.
“Hmm,” said the man, taking the PDU from Rayan gingerly. Touching it only with the pads of his fingertips, he inspected the thin, handheld electronic device and studied its screen contents.
Rayan ground his teeth. “Look, I’m in a rush here. So if you wouldn’t mind hurrying it up, maybe, you know, before I start losing my hair – not that I’m saying that’s a bad thing,” he hastily added when the man gave him an evil look. “I just – please, will you give me the job or what?” He glanced around and yanked his pack closer to himself.
The man’s eyes narrowed further. “In trouble with law or somethin’?”
“No,” Rayan argued hastily. Wait – did he hear someone calling his name? Swallowing, he tugged his jacket up more to try to cover his head.
The man’s beady eyes darted back down to Rayan’s PDU screen. Pointing a gnarled finger at the screen text, he demanded, “Well, Rayan Thorn, is it? Where have I heard yer name before?”
Rayan tensed. “Rayan,” he muttered in a strained voice, ignoring the second question. “‘Ry.’ Rhymes with ‘die.’ Not ‘ray,’ like a gamma ray,” he added with a bit more irritation. “Look – here.” Rayan dug into his pockets and pulled out a thin, flat card. “A hundred flodraughts. You don’t remember my name, you let me sign, and we’re done, OK?”
The man stared at the money, then looked up at him. Rayan tensed and hoped this guy wasn’t a police officer as well as a sign-up official.
“How old are ya?” the man asked.
“Fifteen.”
The man reached out and took the card, but Rayan snatched it back.
“Was that a yes?”
The man hesitated. “Can ya handle a weapon?”
“Sure.”
The man wrinkled his nose again. “Ya do know that yer signin’ on to the Red Phantom voluntarily? That we ain’t responsible for yer well-bein’?”
“Yeah, sure.” Rayan wasn’t listening, and he honestly didn’t care at this point.
The man shrugged, slid a thin writing tablet towards Rayan, and handed him a stylus. “Sign on the line, then, son.”
Rayan didn’t even bother to read the print above the dotted line; he grabbed the stylus from the man and hastily scribbled his name on the screen before pushing it back to the man. When he heard someone shout: “Maybe he’s over here!” he darted past the desk and towards the ship.
“Ask for Cap’n Tilney,” the sign-up man called after him.
Ignoring the various crewmembers of the Red Phantom as they unloaded cargo on the docks and scrubbed the ship, Rayan rushed up the ship’s ramp. As long as the reporters hadn’t seen him get on the ship, he should be all right – at least, for the moment.
As he sprinted up the ramp, two men came out of the ship and started down towards him, carrying a stretcher between them. On the stretcher lay a body covered by a white sheet. Rayan stared at it, passing by, and got a strange, sick feeling in his stomach.
Tearing his gaze away, he turned and fled into the ship. Forgetting his untied bootlaces, he suddenly tripped over them, barely evading a young man carrying a damaged android scrubber. To avoid slamming into each other, the young man spun out of the way, dropping the android with a crash.
Rayan froze, staring at the boy who didn’t look any older than he was, and then bent down to pick up the android.
“Don’t touch that!” the other boy snarled, and dashed forward, yanking the robot out of Rayan’s startled hands. “What the slime are you doing? You’re gonna cost me my job!” His face was flushed with anger, almost as red as his striking mop of hair.
Rayan balked. He didn’t need this. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t see you.”
“Didn’t see me? That’s ‘cause you weren’t looking where you were going!” snapped the boy.
Rayan’s brow furrowed as he clambered to his feet. It was the blasted boots’ fault.
“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said. “It’s not like I damaged your android any more than it already is.”
“How would you know?” the boy sneered back. “What are you doing on this ship, anyway?”
“I just signed on,” Rayan informed him, growing irritated with the boy’s hostility. “I’m looking for Captain Tilney. Know where he is?”
“Don’t know why I should tell you,” the boy grumbled. “Seein’ as how you’ve probably ruined the android.”
Rayan let out a half-sigh, half-growl. “Look, I said I was sorry. Thanks for the help, though,” he said shortly. “Appreciate it.” Turning, he started for the nearest elevator, but a hand reached out and yanked him back around. Startled, he stumbled, tripping again on his laces, and snapped, “What’s your problem?” He jerked away from the boy’s hand and glared at him.
The boy grinned – not a nice grin, Rayan thought – and said, “Well, seein’ as how we’re gonna be shipmates, we’d better get a few things straight first.”
“Look, I don’t have time for this,” Rayan said. He stepped away from the boy towards the elevator. “I have to talk to the Captain.” And he angrily strode off to the elevator and pressed the “up” button.
“Hey, I’m not finished talkin’ to you!” the boy yelled.
Just as the doors slid open, Rayan stepped in and glanced back. “But I’m done talking to you,” he replied dryly. The doors closed on the other boy’s twisted sneer.
Rayan shook his bangs out of his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. At this rate, he’d create more problems for himself on the ship than he already had off the ship. Bending forward to stretch out his aching legs, he groaned.
The lift soon stopped, and the doors opened to reveal the bustling bridge of the ship. Crewmembers scurried around, making repairs to various consoles around the room, repainting with the help of androids, and making sure everything was in order for the next flight.
Warm, glowing lamps recessed into the ceiling, and some into the floor, brightly lit the bridge, unlike the slightly darker hall into which Rayan had entered. The walls were painted shades of grey and red, and the floor was a glittering black stone, its main walking section covered by a bright red fiber runner, the gold letters “S. S.” weaved into it.
Holy gamma, Rayan thought, staring at the onyx floor. This can’t be starstone. What’s this tiny ship doing with starstone? Not unless…
“Are you going to be staring at the floor all day, or do you actually have a reason for being here?” a sharp, deep voice demanded.
Rayan’s head snapped up, hoping that this wasn’t the Captain. But to his surprise, the speaker was a young man not much older than he. However, the young man’s stiff posture, composed features, cropped ebony hair, and starchy deep red uniform made him appear much older than Rayan.
“Uh, hi,” Rayan said uncertainly.
“You didn’t answer my question,” the young man snapped.
Seven shining stars, what is it with me and bad luck?
“I just joined,” Rayan told him. He nervously fingered the strap of his backpack and added: “I’m looking for Captain Tilley.”
“Tilney,” the other corrected sharply with a raised, dubious dark eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Rayan said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Tilney. Do you know where I can find him?”
The young man, studying him carefully, said, “I’m afraid he’s busy at the moment. But I’m the first officer, Nicandar Allard. Anything you need to ask Captain, you can ask me. But make it quick – we’re taking off in ten.” He shot a quick glare to a crewman on his left and barked: “Make it quick, Mr. Tory. We don’t have time for detailed reports right now. Just make sure we have everything and wrap it up. I want to make sure we stay ahead of the Fire this time.”
“Yes, sir,” the crewman answered, adjusting his glasses. “Fisher just checked in. All weapons accounted for. We’re good to go.”
“Good,” Nick said with a short nod.
An uneasy feeling flittered in Rayan’s stomach as Nicandar Allard returned his attentions to him. “All right,” Rayan said. “Well, uh, what should I call you? First officer? Nick?” He smiled weakly.
Nick didn’t look amused. “If you’ve just joined, then I’m your superior officer. You’ll address me as Commander Allard. Are we clear?”
Rayan frowned but didn’t want to make a scene. “Uh, sure,” he said with a hesitant nod.
“You answer ‘yes, sir’,” Nick snapped, folding his hands behind his back. “I don’t tolerate insolence from anyone, understand?”
Talk about a superiority complex, Rayan thought. He doesn’t look much older than I am.
“Yes, sir,” he replied with a tight smile.
Nick’s scowl deepened, and his piercing gaze swept over Rayan. “Hold on,” he said as a gleam of revelation came into his eyes.
Aw, scrap. Rayan swallowed. He’d seen that look before too many times.
“I know you,” Nick continued. “You’re that boy who’s under arrest. You’re that rich kid’s brother – Thorn!” His incredulous expression quickly grew dark. “What the bloody dust are you doing on this ship?” he barked, taking an intimidating step forward.
Rayan flinched but didn’t move back. “I didn’t get arrested – I’m just… under investigation. It’s not like I even did it, anyway,” he muttered.
“You’re still on for trial, aren’t you?” snarled Nick. “What, are you running?”
“No!” Rayan protested, finally meeting the Commander’s eyes. “I’m not! I haven’t even been proven guilty yet!”
“It doesn’t mean you’re not. Your big brother let you get out of it – he’s probably covering it up right now.”
“No!” Rayan repeated with exasperation. “I’m just being hounded by the press everywhere I go. I had to get away! You don’t get it!”
Nick’s jaw flexed. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve known one too many rich kids – they’re all the same. They always get what they want – doesn’t matter what they do. You probably committed murder, too, but you’ll get away with that because you’ve got money. Now, get off my ship.”
Rayan’s face grew hot. He felt his hands shaking. “I did not commit murder!” he shouted. “I didn’t do anything!” He crouched low, ready to tackle the older boy to the ground, when he felt a large, meaty hand on his collar.
“By the seven systems, what’s going on here?”
Rayan looked up to see a stocky, bearded man donning a navy overcoat with gleaming gold buttons covering a white shirt, baggy black pants, and shiny, large black boots that reached up to his knees.
Rayan thought he looked like a nice man, despite his booming voice. His face was weathered with wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. Looking down at Rayan and then to Nick, the heavy man demanded: “Allard, what’s the meaning of this?” His hand didn’t leave Rayan’s collar.
Nick’s tone was low and icy. “Sir, this boy is Rayan Thorn. He’s under investigation for committing criminal acts, and he’s trying to hide on this ship.”
“It’s not true!” Rayan cried. “I didn’t do it, I swear!” He had the sinking feeling that the man holding him was probably the captain of the ship.
“Of course not,” Nick hissed, his gaze burning into Rayan.
“Now, now,” the older man said, frowning. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Mr. Allard.” He looked down at Rayan with a curious stare. “You Rayan Thorn, son?”
Resigned, Rayan had no choice but to nod miserably.
“And you’re in trouble?”
“Not exactly,” muttered Rayan as his fixed his gaze to the glittering floor. “But I’m not hiding – I joined your crew.”
He was tempted to kick the floor, but since it was made of one of the most expensive and rare stones out there, he settled for curling his toes into his boots and stared at the untied laces.
The next thing he knew, the big-bellied man released him and said, “Well, now, Allard, I don’t see any harm in the boy.”
Rayan froze, not daring to believe what he’d just heard. Apparently, Nick didn’t believe it, either.
“Captain!” Nick protested, “He’s on trial for weapons theft. Do we really want him on our crew? What if he decides to steal again – from us?”
Captain Tilney looked down at Rayan again. “Well, son?” he said. “Are you here for a job, or are you here to steal?”
Rayan blinked, wondering if the Captain was serious. A real criminal would answer falsely, of course. So how would Tilney know if he were lying or not? Rayan, unsure of what to say, stammered: “Uh, a job, sir.”
“I don’t believe him,” Nick said.
I probably wouldn’t either if I were him, Rayan thought, jamming his hands in his pockets.
But Captain Tilney apparently did believe him. “Oh, come now, Allard,” he said with a laugh, gripping Rayan’s shoulder tightly. “He’s a sturdy boy. He’ll do fine. Show him his duties – we’ve got to leave by nineteen hundred hours.”
Nick’s tense posture deflated into a quiet sigh. “Sir, we leave in five minutes,” he corrected in a tired voice. “We want to get to the nebula by Wednesday.”
The Captain stared off into space with a puzzled expression on his face. After a pause, he blinked and exclaimed, “Oh, yes! Right. Carry on, then.” Slapping Rayan’s back, he strode over to the helm and started talking to the pilot.
Rayan winced and rubbed his back. Even with his backpack as protection, the Captain could hit hard. He looked at Nick, who watched the Captain with an odd expression on his face. Rayan thought it either looked like frustration or resignation – he couldn’t tell which. But when Nick turned back to him, the first officer immediately straightened, assuming his former posture and demeanor.
“Look, I’m innocent, I swear,” Rayan said wearily, wondering how many times he’d said that over the past few weeks. He wondered if he could use it as his personal trademark.
Nick, as Rayan expected, didn’t buy his sincere statement. “Of course you are, rich kid,” he growled. He stormed past Rayan towards the helm, pushing by him and causing the younger boy to stumble to the side. “Michaud, start the engines,” he ordered. Then, pressing a button on the nearest console, he announced: “All hands, this is Allard. Get to your stations and standby for takeoff.”
Nick turned around and started for his seat, leaving Rayan still standing there with no clue where to go or what to do.
“Wait!” Rayan blurted out. “What do I do now?”
Nick shot him a cold stare. “That depends. What can you do?”
Other than attract every reporter this side of the galaxy? Rayan thought. He squashed a dry retort and cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, and glanced at the helm.
Nick followed his gaze. “Forget it.”
“What?” Rayan squawked. “But you didn’t even - ”
“I know what you’re thinking, rich kid,” Nick snapped, his eyes narrowing. “But forget it. We already have a pilot. Besides, you don’t even have a rank. And I’m not ever inclined to give you one.”
Rayan frowned and glanced at the Captain, who, oddly enough, was not on the bridge anymore. “Isn’t that Captain Tilney’s decision?”
That same odd look he saw just a moment ago on Nick’s face returned. “Maybe. But,” he added in a darker voice, “don’t think that you’re going to get away with anything. I’m going to be the one giving you orders around here, and I can make your life a living hell, Thorn.”
Rayan just threw him a smile. “Looking forward to it, sir.”
Nick’s scowl disappeared, replaced by a slow smirk that Rayan found even more unnerving than the first mate’s tense posture. Rayan pulled back and folded his arms over his chest, suddenly on edge.
“Good,” the first officer said. “You can work on deck seven. We’ve needed a new man down there after our last man was killed.”
“Killed?”
“Yes,” replied Nick gravely. “When you get there, ask the android D.C. for more specific instructions. I imagine he’ll need help with the dust collectors.”
“Dust collectors?”
Nick frowned. “Are you deaf? Stardust collectors.” He glanced at the pilot and called: “Easy on the liftoff, Michaud. It was a little bumpy last time.” When Rayan stared at him blankly, he added impatiently: “Oh, for vega’s sake. You don’t know what ship you’re on, do you? This is the Red Phantom, part of the Stardust Squadron. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”
Oh, no, no, no. Rayan hadn’t known that. He hadn’t even paid attention to the ship’s plaque. The Stardust Squadron? Of all the ships in the galaxy, he’d ended up on a Stardust Squadron ship? Horror stories he’d heard as a kid about the Stardust Squadron ran through his head, sending queasy rolls into his stomach.
Basically, if you wanted to stay alive, you did not sign up for the Stardust Squadron. While it may have looked like a harmless trade (after all, it was only mining stardust, and how boring was that?), the business was cutthroat. Space pirates notoriously attacked stardust-mining vessels, eager for the priceless, sparkling dust carried inside their collectors. An ounce of stardust was worth over two hundred flodraughts. One collector full, which added up to around five to ten tons, could easily reach a hundred million.
People paid through the nose to get their hands on stardust. Nebulas, the source of the dust, were impossible to track down. It was a shot in the dark, literally, until you found one. Once you did, you saved the location. And even after that, the cost of refining the stardust into the prized, glittering onyx starstone was insane, which explained why the Stardust Squadron was one of three stardust-mining companies in the galaxy.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Rayan said, paling. “I’m on the Stardust Squadron?”
The ship rattled lightly under his feet as it rose into the air and off the landing pad. Rayan stared longingly at the front window screen at the landscape below before the ship turned upwards and shot into the sky. He’d take those reporters over this nightmare any day.
“That’s right. Welcome to the Stardust Squadron,” Nick said with an undisguised smirk. “Now get to your station.”
There was nothing else he could do. Rayan turned and stormed out of the bridge, shaking his head. OK, he thought, more than a little angry, why didn’t anyone say something to me about this before I signed on? That stupid desk guy… I should sue.
But it was too late for that now.
Rayan found deck seven a little creepy and dark. There was no one in sight. From what he could see when stepping out of the lift, there was only one wide, long corridor that turned off down at the far end into another passageway. On the left wall, there were a few consoles, but on the right were several closed doors. Those would be the dust collectors.
But where was the android? Rayan scoured the dimly lit deck but found no trace of -- what was its name? E.D? C.D?
“Uh, hello?” he called out down the empty corridor.
A sudden clang and a whirring sound echoed down the hall, and Rayan saw a yellow light up ahead through the doorway into another darkened chamber. “Hello?”
“Yes? Hello?” a mechanized voice inquired. Rayan looked on as a grey android stepped forward to meet him. Rayan could tell it was an E-droid – an android that was programmed for the basics of pretty much everything from cleaning to babysitting to serving tables. Most of the androids back at home had been E-droids.
The droid’s skinny arms and legs contrasted with its round, short torso, which connected with large bolts at the chest, hips, and stomach. Its wide, oval eyes glowed brightly, almost merrily, as if it were human. It whirred and hummed warmly as it clanked towards Rayan, each joint and internal servomotor working smoothly as one. Its dull grey façade blended with the background of the ship. But red stripes – one thick stripe across its chest and thinner stripes across its arms and thighs – gleamed in the light.
The android halted a few feet away from Rayan and tilted its head to once side. “Can I help you?”
The android’s voice annoyed Rayan. Normally he didn’t notice the synthesized monotone, but this android sounded oddly cheerful.
“Uh, yeah. Are you Dee… uh… sorry, what’s your designation?”
“E-Droid D.C. is my designation,” said the android with a nod. Its fixed indent of a mouth almost seemed to smile at Rayan. “But everyone calls me D.C., or Chief.”
“Chief? You’re the deck chief?” Rayan blurted out incredulously. “But you’re just an E-droid!”
“I beg your pardon,” the android said, still gleeful. “I am the deck chief of deck seven. May I help you?”
Rayan didn’t know whether he wanted to hit the insufferably cheery android with something heavy or run out of the room. He was leaning towards the former.
“I guess. I’m supposed to get orders from you. At least, that’s what His Royal Stuffiness said,” Rayan muttered, glowering.
“Who said?” D.C. asked, not understanding Rayan’s sarcastic humor.
“Never mind,” Rayan said as he adjusted his backpack strap. “Just tell me what to do. I’m in enough trouble already, and I don’t think His Majesty of the Stiff-Neck Squadron will be too happy if he finds me not doing anything.”
“Who?”
“Forget it,” Rayan said with an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. Having enough of the weight on his back, he pulled the backpack off and let it drop to the floor. Ah – relief!
“Certainly!” D.C. replied. “You can start by scrubbing the bulkheads in section twenty-eight. Each section is denoted by numbers on the bulkhead in the right hand corner. I will show you where the supplies are.”
Rayan scratched the back of his head and shrugged his shoulders forward and backward to try and ease the ache. “Yeah, that’s great. Where do I sleep?”
“Well,” D.C. said, his synthesizer buzzing, “Most of the crew sleeps on deck six. But I don’t know if there are any available rooms left. I will check the ship’s database.” He moved past Rayan and stepped up to a console built into the dark grey wall. D.C. touched a few buttons on the console and looked up as the screen blinked to life, revealing a diagram of the ship.
“Hmm,” hummed the android, “It doesn’t look like there are any rooms available.”
“Wait,” Rayan said, stepping towards the android, “there’s nowhere for me to sleep?”
“That appears to be the case,” said D.C. cheerfully before he shut off the screen and turned to face Rayan with a quiet clank of his “feet” on the steel floor. Apparently this deck wasn’t important enough to have merited starstone flooring.
Rayan licked his dry lips and swiped a hand across his mouth. To come all this way, to make it on this ship… and now he didn’t even have a place to sleep.
“Right. Well, uh, I guess I’ll… sleep on the floor, then.”
“Of course,” D.C. said. “Perhaps you might find a place down here. This is the lowest deck – mostly filled with cargo, so no crewmembers come here. It would have to be out of the way, but I’m sure we can find something for you.”
“OK, I guess.”
“And then I will show you where the cleaning supplies are located!” The android clanked further down the corridor. Rayan followed him, picking up his backpack.
“Hey, wait a minute,” he protested, jogging to catch up. “If this is just the cargo deck, how come you can’t scrub the bulkheads? I mean, you’re an E-droid – aren’t you supposed to be doing this kind of work?”
“Oh, I do,” D.C. said as they turned a sharp left through the open doorway, continuing down another passageway. “But apparently Captain wanted to give a human the job. Now I may oversee your work! Isn’t that marvelous?”
“Oh, yeah,” Rayan muttered. “Bloody wonderful. His Royal Stuffiness making me do an android’s job.”
“Yes! Oh, and I’d almost forgotten!” D.C.’s eyes seemed to glow more vibrantly as he turned to face Rayan.
“Oh, no,” mumbled Rayan.
“You can also help clean out the dust collectors!” the android declared. “Quite simple, but it does take live hands. Very delicate process, you must understand. And could be quite dangerous. If all of the vents are not tightly secured and someone is in a collector while the vacuum sequence is initiated, there is a hazard of being sucked out into space.”
Rayan nodded. “Yeah, I know about dust collecting.” How dangerous it is, and how I’m probably gonna die. “So, uh, should I find a place to sleep?”
“You can,” said D.C., “after you’ve finished several tasks.” He picked up a nearby sponge and a bucket that were lying on the floor and handed them to Rayan. “Here.” He pointed to the dull grey wall. “Have fun!”
Rayan glared at the droid and glanced down to the empty bucket. “Oh, yeah. Fun.”
“I do hope you last longer than our last crewmember,” D.C. said. “That last attack was quite devastating. It took a while to clean out the rubble from the torpedoes.”
“Last crewmember?” Rayan squeaked. The past few hours flashed back in his mind, one event in particular standing out to him. “Was that… was that the guy they were bringing out before we took off? The one covered by the sheet?”
“Oh, yes. Most unfortunate. But I’m sure you’ll be fine - no need for concern. Now, are you ready to start cleaning?”
Rayan could only stare at him. Perfect. Just perfect. He had just chosen (unknowingly) to join one of the deadliest professions around. Great. Forget escape. Now, it was just staying alive.
