Chapter 1 (Sample)
A scout ship flies out from the atmosphere of a moon-sized planet into the massive wall of cargo and military ships making up Galactic Cobalt Fleet Sigma40. It enters the hangar of the fleet’s lead ship, the plasma frigate, Sleipnir. The pilot gets out. Her watch reads, “Secure memory transfer complete.” and pops out a metal sphere which she shoves into a pneumatic tube. She runs down the corridor as the orb flies through the tube system. She goes into the dormitory, tosses her helmet, and plops into one of several glass encased pleasure pods.
The Sleipnir’s bridge is as hectic as it is organized. Spacemen work feverishly at a dozen computer stations. The virile and austere Admiral Augustine stands at his terminal in the center. He removes the orb from the tube and places it next to similar orbs sitting on a pad near his console. Lights glow. Machines hum.
An enormous screen hangs over the bridge showing video of the colony in several windows. A domed city on the planet’s surface, measuring 6 miles in diameter is the only mark of civilization. People go busily about their work with faces that aren’t miserable, but lack genuine smiles.
Other panels show infographics describing a wide range of facts about the colony, such as breakdowns of its governance smart contracts, philosophies, habits, values, and social hierarchies. Or the colonist lifecycle; from the test tube to experimentation led by artificial intelligences followed by the final step of re-fertilization.
“XO, sit-rep!” booms Augustine.
The smooth professional voice of the artificially intelligent XO, pours out of the bridge’s speakers, “Target colony, Appius XI, confirmed. We’ve purchased it in its entirety from the FrontierAU Corporation. The colony’s focus is on scientific research; specifically on using live, but inactive, human brains as a fuel source for buildings, large machinery, and space ships. The settlement is small and isolated from the rest of the galaxy; it doesn’t even have a ship capable of reaching the sector station. Once it’s secure, we can hyper-jump a cargo freighter to this location to load the salvage.” Augustine winces as the entire crew rushes away from the bridge, leaving him alone with XO.
“We are clear to take possession of the colony.” says XO.
“Where is my scout?” asks Augustine.
“She is in her pleasure pod, as are the rest of the ship’s crew. Studies show humans can only work for 45 minutes a day, which is why Galactic Cobalt’s regulations specify they must not work longer than that. Your attitude regarding compliance with this rule is alarming. A report of your behavior has been submitted to the corporate DAO.” says XO.
The Admiral lets out a visceral growl. Sparks fly as he rips a box halfway out of the control panel; the cords will only let it come out so far. “Stop! Help!” XO screams as he opens all of the pleasure pod doors, sounds an ear-splitting siren, and flashes red lights throughout the ship. The crewmen groggily rub their eyes, yawn, and execute a plethora of strategies to keep resting. XO goes silent as the lights and machines on the bridge flicker. The Admiral opens a small airlock door, shoves the box housing XO’s hardware through, and closes the door; jettisoning XO into space. Augustine presses a few buttons and the alarms turn off.
Augustine activates the Sleipnir’s intercom, “Attention all personnel, XO has been permanently disabled and I am now running this ship.” He switches audio channels to the terrestrial loudspeaker network which feeds to every speaker in the colony, “Attention, employees and property of Appius XI. This is Admiral Augustine of Galactic Cobalt Fleet Sigma40. Your contracts have all been purchased by our parent corporation and we are here to collect. We expect each one of you to peacefully comply. Please have your documentation ready. If you do not have documentation, you will be assigned a new contract as an indentured servant for the next three years and will be traded as such. You have three days for a representative from your colony to respond.”
The colonists quickly elect a president and send him aboard the Sleipnir on their behalf. It’s a tense week in the colony as they await the results of the negotiation. It’s also a hard week for the Sleipnir’s crew; XO controlled many of the ship’s functions, so with him gone, the crew has to leave their pleasure pods at least once a day to eat food. The president of Appius XI returns and gives a speech:
“The future may not be what we expected, but we’ve negotiated a pretty grand deal for everyone in Appius!” The crowd roars into applause. “It’s going to unfold in a few stages. First the leadership and I will head out with the Galactic Cobalt fleet. We’re gonna hash out some details to kinda set things up for everyone else. The way we saw it, FrontierAU sold us. So, you know what? We sold them!” The president smiles as the crowd claps and cheers. “Damn right, we sold them. People over property!” The crowd whoops and cheers. “The labs, the vehicles, the furniture, and all of FrontierAU’s stupid toys. To space with it!” Applause, chants, and whistles. “Damn right.” The president waits for the crowd to calm down.“All that crap will be loaded onto cargo ships and sold at the nearest galactic sector station’s space port. When I went up there to negotiate with Galactic Cobalt, I stood on the bridge of the Admiral’s ship, looked him square in the eye, and I told him, ‘You better cut us in.’ And you know what he had to say to that? ‘Alright.’” The crowd gives a standing ovation for a full fifteen minutes. The speech is over, whether the president is ready for it to end or not. “Everyone is to cooperate with Galactic Cobalt and abide by what we all voted for. We’re all going home for the first time. It’s been an honor. Thank you.”
A week later and it’s as the president said. The leaders leave first, followed soon after by their favorites. The vehicles, lab equipment, modular buildings, and experiments are loaded onto cargo ships and hauled to the galactic sector station. The colonials lacking respectable connections are prepared for sale as slaves according to any highly marketable skills or professions. The remaining colonists are converted into “fuel slaves.” Fuel slaves have wireless power rods drilled into their spinal cords. These power rods sap energy from the host’s stable and mostly unused brain, then send it to the fuel slave’s holding or battery cell which can then be distributed to a ship, building, or large machine. It’s like using a hamster wheel to produce electricity, but on a much larger scale and with much greater returns. Most of these fuel slaves will be used to power the fleet and the remainder will be sold at this sector station’s space port. The arrangement is mildly controversial, but for the most part everyone accepts it as fair and reasonable, “Well that’s what our leader’s decided.”
An alarm blares throughout the colony. Heavily armed soldiers sprint to strategic positions covering its entirety. The slaves all get on their knees and lock their hands on top of their heads. All except one.
Admiral Augustine watches the bridge monitor’s grid of screens. An aerial drone shows a swarm of soldiers and military vehicles patrolling the streets of Appius with an especially tight perimeter around building 63, which houses the engineering slaves. The helmet camera of Galactic Cobalt Tactical Response Unit 729 shows soldiers quickly and carefully advancing step by step, corner to corner, doorway through doorway, into the building. The surveillance camera in cell 207F, shows a man crouched in his cell taking apart the lock. His energy door is open, but he keeps adjusting the lock.
Unit 729 leaps into the cell. The energy door slams shut, tears off most of his left deltoid, and knocks him back into the hallway. He screams in terror while collapsing to the ground in front of Unit 723 who trips over him, face plants, and drops his rifle which misfires as it slides down the hall. 723 scrambles to his feet as 735 slams a plasma hammer into the door’s energy field to no effect. 712 quickly drags the bleeding and unconscious 729 away from the door while deploying a surgical nano-drone cloud to dress 729’s wound. 718 plugs a small device into the door’s lock. The device makes a thousand beeping noises per minute and reliably ends with an obnoxious “failure” sound.
723 stands around like an idiot. 735 slams his hammer into the energy field over and over. 718 keeps pressing the button on his beeping machine.
A voice booms through the cell’s speaker, “This is Admiral Augustine of Galactic Cobalt Fleet Sigma40. What the hell do you think it is you’re doing?”
The man in the cell replies, “The latch and barrier mechanisms for my cell weren’t very good, so I made the energy usage of the door’s plasma screen more efficient so it could be more powerful on impact, which I made possible by rerouting a few things so it wouldn’t waste energy when not in use. I also tinkered with the lock and found the encryption lacking, so I made a few changes that made it twice as strong. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I’m sorry. I was just trying to help out.”
The Admiral bursts into prolonged and silly laughter as his earpiece whispers “Sir, this is 439c. My team is ready at the cell’s back wall. Explosive breach in 20 seconds.”
The Admiral speaks through the cell’s speaker, “What’s your name, kid?”
“Voltz, sir.”
“Voltz, open your cell and go with the men outside.”
“Um, okay.” Voltz opens the door. Soldiers tackle him to the ground and restrain him.
The Admiral speaks through the tactical channel, “Team 4 stand down. Team 7, make sure Voltz is delivered to my ship unharmed; I get 45% commission on the engineering slaves.”
This entire story is a work of fiction. None of the characters, events, and organizations are real, nor do they intentionally refer to real people, events, or organizations with the possible exception of parody. This work is for entertainment purposes only.
© Insolent Cool Inc. 2021
All Rights Reserved.
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