Omnigalactic Read online

  “What?”

  He told me to forget about it. A mustached Human dressed in a suit approached and ushered us over to his dark, wooden desk in the center of a wide room full of them. Plasteel walls curved upward to the domed ceiling.

  We engaged in dull, idle chatter with the Human for what felt like twenty minutes. I suppressed the urge to constantly check my PCD for the time. Randy Ulysses was his name, as indicated by his gold nametag. No way it was real gold. That would have been a waste of money.

  If we were going to get our partnership off the ground, I'd rather not have had to waste time with that pencil-pusher. At last, the stupid conversation ended.

  Randy pulled out a tablet and began tapping away on it. He cleared his throat. “Now, what can I help you two with?”

  We looked at one another, unsure who should speak first. Considering Jord actually knew what a GBL was, I let him speak.

  “My buddy and I are here to apply for a GBL,” Jord said.

  “Ah, excellent,” Randy began. “I'm going to ask you both a series of questions. This will make sure the process goes as smoothly as possible. First, I need a form of identification from each of you. Just for our records, don't worry. And I'm assuming you are both the owners?”

  We nodded and produced our IDs. Randy scanned the IDs and returned them to us. “Now, what sort of business is it?”

  We looked at one another again. That was a damn good question. Jord spoke up. “Independent contracting.”

  “Okay,” Randy said and repeated the words as he typed them into his tablet. “Business address?”

  “Ah, we don't have that yet,” Jord said.

  “No? I'm sorry, fellas, but if you don't have a busin-”

  “Just put my address,” I said. “547 Iteum Street, Apartment 106, Ritan City. Sorry, my associate and I forgot to clear that up.”

  Jord didn't look upset about my interjection. My gut told me he just wanted to get this over with, too. I won't try to say Jord and I were equally badass, but we were action guys. Outdoorsmen. We didn't enjoy filling out needless forms and documents.

  Mister Ulysses, on the other hand, tapped away at that stupid tablet with glee.

  A part of me imagined it was all for show - for the customers - but deep down, he was suicidal. Any day now, he was going to shatter like a pane of glass, cutting any who were too close.

  Back at Liberty Freight, I’d had a friend in accounting - Huli, a real straight flier. He’d ended up in a mental hospital for a couple weeks. The doctors had told him he’d had a psychotic breakdown. Probably from all the monotony. When he came back to work, I took him out for a beer to get the details. You know, get in his head a little? He was going to blow his brains out. He’d had a gun up to his head when his wife walked in - nice lady, by the way - and tackled him. She’d checked him into the hospital not even an hour later. I shook my head, thinking about it.

  Randy nodded. “And how can people reach you? Your contact information?”

  “We don't have an official business website or mail address,” I said. “But, you can reach me at [email protected].”

  “[email protected],” Jord said. He held out his cybernetic hand. “Keep it to a minimum. I get enough trash mail as it is.”

  Randy gave a fake chuckle - I thought it was fake, anyway – and a toothy smile "Of course, Sir. I know exactly how you feel. Those darn advertisements clutter up the inbox. Next question: How many employees do you currently have?”

  “Only us,” Jord said.

  “Well, that makes this easy for me,” Randy said. “Okay, almost finished. But before we finalize your GBL application, I have to go through a series of questions to establish what kind of sub-licenses you'll need.”

  “Sub-licenses?” I asked. “You're yanking our sticks, Randy.”

  “Sorry, fellas. Rules are rules. Are you going to sell food?”

  “No,” we answered in unison.

  “How about alcoholic beverages or other substances? Hallucinogens? Opioids? Things like that.”

  “No.”

  “Hazardous materials? Things such as chemicals, radioactive materials, biological waste?”

  Jord and I looked at one another. I guessed we were thinking the same thing. Jord said, “Its a possibility. Does starship fuel count?”

  “Yes, that counts.”

  “Then, yes.”

  Randy tapped away again. “Okay. How about firearms?”

  “Definitely,” Jord said.

  “Are you planning on remodeling your business space?”

  “No,” I answered. “Not any time soon, anyway.”

  “Will either of you be practicing medicine?”

  “No.”

  “Will you be transporting animals?”

  Jord looked at me. He had no more idea than I did. “Uh… maybe?” I said. “Make it a ‘yes’.”

  “How about insurance? Home, vehicle, fire, natural disaster, health, or life insurance?”

  I slapped my hand on the table. “No. C'mon, how many more of these stupid questions are there?”

  “We've made it to the end, fellas,” Randy smiled. “Last question: What's the name of your company?”

  Oh, that was a tough one. We hadn't gotten that far. The partnership had been spur-of-the-moment.

  I ran through ideas in my head. Jord and Sai's Contracting? No, too bland. Kill-Team Ultra? No, too extreme, and it sounds like a gang. J.S. Extraordinaire? No, sounds like a Human coffee shop, one that Randy would go to. Prestige Galactic Services? Not quite, but I'm getting closer.

  Then, it came to me. It was perfect. I could see the logo behind my eyelids.

  “Omnigalactic, LLC,” I said. It sounded just as good aloud as it did in my head.

  “Yeah,” Jord said and gave an approving nod.

  Randy finished tapping on the tablet and handed it to us. “Fellas, just sign your names at the bottom here, and we will submit your application for approval.”

  Jord signed with absolutely zero hesitation. The Tresedi warrior was more than ready to get out there and shoot things again. I, on the contrary, hesitated. My finger hovered over the blue-screened tablet, just above the dotted line. My guts were twisted into sailor's knots. This was both the most exciting thing to ever happen to me and the most frightening. I'd seen some horrifying stuff in Interspace - people and ships ripped to shreds - but this felt scarier. This was crazy. This was stupid. What if I didn't sign? I could have stopped this right there and then. Jord would have never spoken to me again. That, I knew in my heart. I would have been back in my apartment, sweating my gonads off, tearing my eyeballs out, searching the web for a new job. My parents would have been more disappointed than they'd ever been before. I'd return to my old life, but worse for it.

  I took a deep breath and signed my name.

  “Now, we wait for approval. This should take a few minutes.”

  Minutes passed. A part of me hoped it would be rejected. What was I thinking?

  Randy looked up at us with that big fake smile again and held out both hands. “Congratulations! Omnigalactic, LLC is open for business.”

  We shook his hands. I sighed, unsure whether it was in relief or reluctance. Whatever the truth was, there was no turning back now. I was officially an entrepreneur, just like my dad's book said I would be.

  “Now, before I instamail you copies of your GBL and sub-licenses, I'll need you to pay some fees,” Randy added, just as we got up from our seats.

  “What's the damage?” Jord asked.

  “Well, with a processing fee, a convenience charge, and galactic licensing taxes…”

  I stopped him. “Whoa, taxes? What are those?”

  Randy awkwardly chuckled, as if I were joking.

  Jord said, “They are basically charges against a citizen's person or property to fund governments.”

  “That sounds like theft,” I said.

  “Just shut up, Sai,” Jord said a
nd slapped me on the arm.

  “Your total amount is thirty-five-hundred bitcreds.”

  There went my last paycheck. I would have to hold onto some of the gold money to get myself through another couple months of rent, just in case things took a turn for the worse. Couldn't put all my money in the pot.

  Before I could pull out my digiwallet, Jord paid for it. He said, “This is a partnership. I'm going to pull my fair share.”

  Now that Omnigalactic, LLC was a reality, Randy instamailed our GBL and sub-licenses, then escorted us out of the building. He bid us good luck and farewell but in that phony kind of way.

  Jord started walking and messing with his PCD. I jogged a bit to catch up to him. “So, what's next? Where are you going?”

  “We're going to do some shopping,” he answered. “By the way, nice name. Omnigalactic, LLC. Where'd you come up with that name?”

  “It just came to me. Like a prophecy.”

  “Nice,” Jord said. He stopped and looked around. I could see his cybernetic eye whirring and shifting. “Anyway, we're going to get ourselves some weaponry.”

  “What about the guns we have now?”

  Jord scoffed. “Those are kid's toys. We need real firepower if people are going to take us seriously. First impressions are everything.”

  “We need to stay within budget, though,” I said. “I only have the gold bar my dad gave me.”

  “Remember what I said? I'm going to pull my fair share. The guns are on me. C'mon, I know just the place to go.”

  ****

  We arrived in an obscure part of Ritan City aboard the teal tram. Can't say I'd been that way before. It was deep in the bowels of the city. (I use the word ‘bowels’ intentionally, because it smelled like freshly-excreted urine and feces.) The scent hit me hard as soon as the tram doors opened. My stomach churned at the stench.

  Jord hopped off the tram and marched toward what appeared to be a crowded market - though the various tattooed faces giving me strange looks indicated the merchandise sold there was for a different sort of clientele, if you know what I mean. Jord used his sheer size to push through the crowd, while I had to sneak through the gaps in-between.

  Before I could ask him where we were going, we reached a flooded alleyway. A drain pipe emptied rainwater - at least, I hoped it was rainwater - down into the alley. My boots splashed through the water as I kept up with Jord. He urged me onward. We were almost there. A homeless Anuran dressed in shabby, stained rags stopped us and begged for money. What a lowlife, I thought. I can't stand people who don't work. I told him to get a job, but then felt stupid for saying it. I could have been him in a few months. I was him before my dad interfered yesterday.

  “This is the place,” Jord said as we came upon a discreet door on the side of a building. He rang a buzzer on the wall.

  In a few seconds, a raspy voice emitted from a speaker. “What's the password?”

  “Exit wounds,” Jord answered.

  Magnetic locks clicked, and the door slid open. We walked into a surprisingly well-lit room with hardwood flooring. It smelled like a carpenter's shop, which was a nice change from the stench outside.

  My mouth dropped to the floor. All along the walls were racks upon racks of weapons. Hundreds of weapons. Big ones, too. How did Jord know about this place?

  “Jord!” came the raspy voice from before. It was a bearded Human; a tall one with a portly torso and muscular arms. “How have you been, my man?”

  “Been busy,” Jord said. “When did you get these floors done?”

  “I installed 'em last week. Business has been pretty slow lately. Needed something to do.”

  “They look good.”

  The Human looked down at me. “Who's your friend?”

  “This is my business partner, Sai Cadel. Sai, this is Marshall Suggs. Best arms dealer this side of the galaxy. We fought together on Ypso in the Nivaran Incursion.”

  We shook hands. His were big and meaty, which made me feel like a tiny child. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I said.

  Marshall crossed his arms and looked at Jord. “You in the market for some new guns, my man?”

  “Yeah. Point us to the heavy stuff.”

  “Right over on that wall.” Marshall pointed at the wall behind us. “If you need anything else, just holler. I'll be in the back.”

  I followed Jord over to the wall with the ‘heavy stuff’ - giant, death-dealing, mechanical monstrosities. I asked Jord if they were illegal weapons, given their sheer size and the discreet location of the weapons shop. He assured me it was all legal. I suppose I'd find out in the days to come.

  He picked up what appeared to be a machine gun of some kind. It looked like some of the ones I'd seen in war movies.

  “Yes, this'll be just fine,” Jord said as he aimed down the sights.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “This is a Nivaran-manufactured, assault-class, Mark V gauss gun,” Jord answered matter-of-factly. “I used one of these babies during the Hanza Conflict. The central barrel is a multistage, electromagnetic coil that fires ferromagnetic rounds at a rate up to eight-hundred rounds per minute. Not the most accurate weapon at prolonged, high rates of fire, but I've never seen a weapon rip through Hanzan scales like this one. It'll come in handy.”

  Not that Jord was a dumb guy, but his IQ went up about twenty points whenever he started talking about guns. I figured I'd let him make all the decisions on what weapons to buy. Of course, I'd provide some input and remind him not to go too overboard.

  He looked through more of the weapons and found another one he liked. It wasn't as large as the last gun - the Mark V something-something. There was a blue-tinted translucent tube fixed on two handles, each with its own trigger. As far as I could tell, there was no aiming mechanism on it.

  “Okay, now, what is that thing?” I asked and tapped the translucent tube.

  “Whoa, whoa!” he ripped it away from my finger. “Don't touch that.”

  “That thing looks like a squirt gun.”

  “It may look pathetic, but it's nasty. It’s the reason I look the way I do.”

  “Damn, this gun turned you into a cyborg?”

  Jord shook his head. “No, idiot. Well, kind of. This was a weapon mounted on Icto mechs during the AI War. Not very effective against vehicles, but deadly to infantry. It’s called a cryoflayer. I don't know how it works exactly - Icto are weird bastards - but you press down the two triggers and out comes a stream of liquid-gas that'll crystallize your flesh.”

  I winced. “How did it happen?”

  “It was near the end of the war. We were on Koris, defending the capitol. For months, our position was hit with wave after wave of Nivaran soldiers. Then, the Icto mechs showed up and started blasting us with cryoflayers. Soldiers turned into bloody crystals in an instant. My unit routed. I stayed behind and provided cover fire. When the opportunity presented itself, I made a mad dash to rejoin my unit. A stray bullet hit my leg. I stumbled. An Icto mech was right behind me and fired that freezing gas all over the left side of my body. My skin and muscles atrophied and hardened. Sai, I've been shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, slashed, and nearly blown up. But I've never felt anything more painful than being cryptoflayed in my entire life. I'm buying it.”

  I nodded like a moron and pretended I wasn't at all phased by that disturbing story. “Just make sure I'm not in front of you whenever you shoot that thing.”

  He led me around the room and inspected Marshall's inventory. Nothing quite caught his eye like those first two death machines. We meandered over to a section of smaller weapons. I have to admit, none of them looked very intimidating - compared to the cryoflayer and the gauss gun, anyway.

  Jord halted and took a pistol off the rack. “Perfect,” he said and put it in my hands.

  “How come you get the big guns?” I asked.

  “One, because I know how to use them,” he said. “Two, the recoil alone would send you fl
ying backwards the instant you pulled the trigger. This is the perfect weapon for a little guy like you.”

  “I'm considered tall for an Anuran,” I said. The pistol felt heavy, at the very least. Maybe it shot beams of electricity. “What's the story with this gun?”

  “It's a plasma pistol. Fires high-energy, ionized toroids. Causes severe thermal burns to just about anything it touches. A lot of Human troops use these as sidearms. Very reliable and cheap to make.”

  “So, just a pistol,” I said. “That's not very impressive.”