Omnigalactic Page 7

  With the speed and accessibility of the Web, it has never been easier for both customers and businesses to interact. Thus, a website has become the standard means by which Entrepreneurs ‘get their name out there’. Think of it as a galaxy-spanning sign that everyone can see.

  I nodded. Omnigalactic needed to get its name out there. I shook my head. Damn it, neither of us know anything about Web design. I flew things. Jord shot things. I couldn’t say I wanted to halve the gold bar any further, and — like my dad wrote — we needed money coming in.

  I hopped out of my chair and walked down the Lady Luna's main corridor. Jord stood at a workbench, polishing and caressing our newly-purchased weapons. “A gun only shoots as good as you treat it,” he’d told me once.

  He looked over at me but continued to polish the weapons. “Hey, bud. You look worried. What's up?”

  “We need money,” I said and tapped the gold bar in my pocket. “I may have smooth-talked Valo into selling us this ship. But what if we don't pay him back, and he comes for us? Six months goes by quick.”

  Jord stopped and turned to me. “Relax. I had this all figured out beforehand.”

  “You did? Do you have some assassin friends to back us up?”

  “No, moron. The money part.”

  We stood in silence for a few seconds. “How so?”

  “Follow me,” he said and started walking toward the crew cabin at the rear of the ship.

  He powered up the computer next to a semi-circular bench. I sat next to him. He tapped away at the screen and swiped through a number of windows. Too many to count. The more windows he went through, the shadier they became, until he reached a site that read, in bold, purple font: Inquiries. He tapped on it, and a black page crammed with multicolored links popped up.

  “Remember when I told you about the Underweb?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He pointed at the screen. “This is it.”

  “It looks… complicated,” I said and stared at the screen. “It’s a bunch of random numbers and letters. How does it work?”

  “Well, everything is encrypted. Sure, it all looks complicated. But if you have a decryption key - like me - all you have to do is enter it into that little box in the top-right corner, and it will decrypt all the links.”

  “How do you get a decryption key?” I asked.

  He cocked his head to the side and eyed me up and down. “Let's just say, you have to go through the proper channels. Like, I know a guy who knows a guy who has a cousin who may or may not sell them.”

  “This still sounds shady, Jord-o. But carry on.”

  “You find a job you’re interested in, select it, and apply. It's that easy. When you apply for a job, you leave a encryption key for the employer to contact you. That way, it’s secure — since there's government spooks on here all the time.”

  “That's very reassuring.”

  “Here, check this out,” Jord said and entered his decryption key. All the links morphed into sentences. “Like magic.”

  “Where do we even start? There's probably a thousand jobs on this page alone.”

  Jord swiped down the page until he found a job and tapped on it. “‘Melville Needs Pest Control. To whom it may concern, we are a research facility located on Harland in the Koris Sector. Recently, a member of an unknown species has disrupted our efforts here. Many staff members have been severely injured or killed. We are offering fifty-thousand bitcreds upon completion. Our research is extremely vital, and until this problem is addressed, we cannot commit to the project fully. All inquires may contact Doctor Ellen Rupert at RupertE@university.of.Harland.edu.’ Hey, this is right up our alley.”

  I chuckled. “What part of ‘severely injured or killed’ did you not understand? I think we should go with something a little smaller and less dangerous.”

  “No way. This is perfect for us.”

  “And an unknown species? We have no idea what this thing is.”

  “You flew through Interspace for a living, and now, you're worried about danger? I've done a hundred jobs like this. It always goes the same way: A dangerous animal kills a few civilians; people get scared; people contact me; I show up; it dies; I get paid.”

  The anxiety kicked in again. I looked at Jord, then at the screen, then back at Jord. “I dunno. Still sounds dangerous.”

  “Sai, this is no different than any other hunt we've been on. Think of it like that.”

  “All right, let's apply.” I sighed. “We need the money.”

  Jord left a decryption key for them to contact us and returned to the main page. Something caught his attention. “Hey, look at this: ‘Need Transportation to Harland. I require immediate, expeditious transportation to Harland in the Koris Sector. Offer: One-thousand bitcreds. Serious inquiries only. ProfDG@instamail.web.’ You thinking what I'm thinking?”

  “Knock out two jobs at once,” I said.

  “Yeah. Let's apply for this one, too.”

  I stood up and stretched my back. I needed to stay limber, now that I was getting back to work — even if I wasn’t too confident about the job. “Their address — it might be a professor. You think they’re headed to Melville?”

  “Could be.” Jord finished the inquiry and lay back on the bench. “But does this person know about the pest problem?”

  I scratched my head. “Maybe they've been hired to help out with the research. You know, replace the ones they lost?”

  “Could be.”

  “You know what's weird to me? Why would a bunch of scientists put a job on the Underweb?”

  Jord shrugged. “Maybe it's top-secret research, and they don't want anyone else know about it? Corporations do this kind of stuff all the time.”

  “But, it's not a private company. The instamail address is from an academic.”

  “Who cares? As long as we get paid.”

  “What if we get there, and they're bringing dead people back to life? Or swapping body parts from one alien species to another? Or mind control?”

  Jord snickered. “Lay off the horror movies a bit.”

  Maybe he was right. At that point, we didn't have much room to be moral arbiters. We needed work. “Well, I guess now, we wait for them to contact us.”

  “Yeah,” Jord said.

  I looked around at the crew cabin. “I'm going to fix some things up in the meantime. Make sure she's up to speed for her first Interspace jump in ten years, you know? Want to help?”

  Jord sat upright. “Sure. I’ll grab the beer.”

  ****

  After a few beers, and a couple hundred turns of a socket wrench, I couldn't help but think about the nature of machines and how they served us as tools. They took all sorts of forms: Ships, computers, droids, guns, and so on. I looked over at Jord's cybernetic arm and leg, whirring as he moved around the crew cabin; they even gave people a second chance. But what occupied the most of this thought was the AI War.

  “Hey, Jord,” I said as I screwed an electrical panel back onto the floor. “What exactly was the AI War about?”

  Jord recoiled as if he wasn't sure what I was asking. “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “You were a man on the ground. You had a stake in the fight. What was it about?”

  He snickered. “You miss that lecture in history class?”

  “Man, you are funny. Seriously, tell me.”

  “For starters, I didn't have a ‘stake in the fight’,” he began and popped open another beer.

  “You had a reason to pick the Pro-Wyn side,” I pointed out.

  “Only because they paid more than the other side. Don't get me wrong; the Wyn were good guys - if a bit self-righteous - but ultimately, they were in the wrong.”

  I took a sip of my beer and sat down. “Why do you say that?”

  “Have you ever met one?” he asked as he sat down next to me. “They can't go five minutes without talking about how great they are.”

  I shook my head. �
�They were gone thirty years before my parents even thought about having kids. Heck, my parents weren't even born yet.”

  Jord slouched down, kicked his feet up, shook his head, and took a swig. “Fifty years - has it really been that long? I was so young and in top form. Where should I start?”

  “I dunno. Just give me the nuts and bolts of it.”

  He nodded and took a deep, long breath. “If you ask me, the war was about dominance.”

  I chuckled. “Every war's about dominance in some form or another, idiot. Give me something more philosophical.”

  He pointed to himself with his cyborg hand. “I shoot guns for a living. Do I look like the brainy type to you? Anyway, I don't mean dominance in the conventional way - power, control, authority. I mean…" He paused for a second or two and looked up, then back down at me. “You know, when you're really good at something, then somebody comes along and does it better than you? Then, you get pissed off and envious?”

  I let out a sweet, gutty belch. “Yeah. Reminds me of my sister, Yulai. I used to play the bulu when I was a little older than a pollywog. I had the best rhythm, Jord. No kidding. I won a talent show once. But, of course, my asshole of a sister saw me and said, she's going to play bulu, too. I laughed it off at the time, but she got really good really quick. By the end of the year, she was shredding on it. I couldn't stand her being better than me, so I quit.”

  “Wow, that must've felt terrible,” he said with oozing sarcasm. “Mention that to your psychiatrist next time.”

  I socked him in the arm. “Finish your story, jerk.”

  He continued. “Right. ‘Dominance’ as in ‘being the best at something’. The Wyn had long been the masters of Interspace travel. Hell, they invented it. That is, until the Icto came along. Like your sister. They said, ‘Hey, we want to master Interspace travel, too’ and designed an AI to study the Wyn Gates. Eventually, they built one of their own.”

  What? I couldn't believe it. Somebody had actually figured out how the technology worked? “That explains things. I always thought it was about the ethics of artificial intelligence or something.”

  He pointed at me. “It was, but not at first. In my opinion, both sides had their share of propaganda. The Pro-Wyn made it about how scary and dangerous AI were, so they had an excuse to attack the Icto. And the Anti-Wyn made it about combating galactic tyranny. You know how the rest of it goes. Did that answer your question?”

  I nodded. “I still wonder what happened to them.”

  “Who, the Wyn? They went into exile.”

  “That's not what I heard.”

  “And what is that?”

  I cleared my throat. “They went into Interspace and never returned.”

  Jord's clutched his guts as he burst with laughter. “You don't seriously believe that,” he said, then continued to laugh at me.

  “It's the only scenario that makes sense.”

  He regained his composure, but I could tell he was fighting back a smirk. “How is that? Think about what you just said. If they went into Interspace, they'd have all gone insane and killed each other. You've been watching too many of those conspiracy shows, bud.”

  I sliced at him with a counterattack. “Then, where did their homeworld go, hmm?”

  “They probably blew it up to hide all their top-secret technology. You have to pre-install a self-destruct mechanism, just in case a starship with experimental engines, weapons, or stealth tech crashes on enemy soil. That's just common sense.”

  “Very interesting. How come there were no signs of debris? Not even carbon molecules. How do you explain that?”

  He looked around the room, as if searching for an answer. “I dunno. Maybe they used a disintegrator bomb.”

  “The size of a freaking planet? C'mon, Jord.”

  “Who cares?” he asked, then stood up and stretched. “I'm going to close my eyes for a bit. If I get up, I'll look for some more jobs.”

  He slapped me on the shoulder with his cyborg hand. I prematurely winced, expecting it to hurt, but it didn't.

  “All right,” I said. “I think I'll do the same. All this starting-out stuff is hard work.”

  He winked with his organic eye. “But, it's for the best,” he said as he walked out of the crew cabin.

  I nodded and lay down on the bench, stretching my legs out as far as I could. Did Jord really think I was crazy for believing the Wyn conspiracy theories? They couldn't be out of the realm of possibility, right? Thoughts rattled around in my head like a rock in a tin can, until I slowly, gently fell asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Founder and CEO

  “Sai, wake up!”

  My face was smashed into the flat pillow of my cot. It was all leather, making the skin of my face peel off as I woke. I could feel lines indented all over my forehead and cheeks with my fingers. I made a mental note to refurnish the cots in the crew cabin.

  Jord grabbed my shoulder and violently shook me. “Wake up!”

  I wriggled myself free from his cyborg strength. “I'm up! Stop shaking me. You're going to give me a headache.”

  “We got a hit on the Melville job,” he said. “They want to interview us.”

  My heart jumped as I turned around to face Jord. “Really? When?”

  “Right now. Go wipe your face or something real quick. Maybe put on a nice shirt. You look like shit.”

  I rubbed the crust from my eyes. “What about you? Why don't you talk to them?”

  “Look at me,” he said. “The minute they see me, they'll cut the connection. If we were talking to someone who wants a hitman, I'd do it. But if you're right about these being university types, I'll scare them away. You have to be the face, Sai.”

  “And that is supposed to mean what?” I asked and hopped down from the cot. I stretched hard. Blood rushed to my head, giving me a brief moment of intense vertigo.

  “The face!” he shouted. “The boss! The main person in charge!”

  I waved my hand. “No way. I botched my interview with Reliant. I'll screw this up, too. And aren't you supposed to be the confident, ex-mercenary, killer guy? You do it.”

  “Relax, I'll coach you from off-camera. I'll make you sound like it's just another day at the office.”

  I cursed and went to the small, stuffy hygiene chamber to wash my face.

  “Hurry up!” he yelled. “I told them five minutes!”

  Mist sprayed upward and filled the chamber. I scrubbed all over my face and body, hopped out, and dried myself off like a frantic maniac. Jord yelled out that there were two minutes left. Naked, I sprinted to the drawers underneath my cot, searched for my semi-formal, business-casual, brown shirt, and put it on.

  “Brown?” Jord said. “You look like a small tree with eyes.”

  “I like Earth tones,” I said, digging for a pair of pants.

  “No time for pants. Get in front of the camera.”

  “But—”

  “Just move the camera, so they won't see below your waist!”

  Bare-assed, I ran to the bench in front of the computer screen. A small window in the bottom-right corner displayed our video feed, so I adjusted the zoom and angle. My heart leapt into my throat, and my guts twisted into knots like a ball of gnarled rope. A prompt reading “INCOMING CALL” flickered on the blank, black screen in large, white letters. I breathed in deeply, exhaled, then tapped the blue checkmark to accept the call.

  An image of a golden-haired, brown-eyed, Human woman dressed in a white lab coat appeared. She was outside; intense sunbeams illuminated the tropical trees and white sand behind her. Although I couldn't see an ocean, I could hear faintly crashing waves offscreen. The woman’s hair was frizzy, but mostly rested on her shoulders. Oh no, I was about to talk to someone who was probably three times as smart as me. I felt my stomach knots tighten even more.

  The woman shielded her eyes from the sun. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, Ma'am. I
can hear you. Can you hear me?”

  She smiled. “Oh, thank goodness! Our signal can be spotty sometimes. Is this Omnigalactic?”

  I won't lie; the company’s name sounded good when said by another person. “Yes, indeed. My name is—”

  I glanced over at Jord, who was waving his arms for my attention. He whispered, “Tell her you're the Founder and CEO.”

  “Sorry, my name is Sai Cadel. I'm the Founder and CEO.”

  Jord smirked and gave me a thumbs-up.