The Expedition
“Hey! How was your day?” The words appeared on the monitor; his hand glided over the spider-web like cracks of the screen. These nightly messages had become the highlights of his day. Or night. Her signal reached his receiver some months ago. A stroke of luck on this forgotten dumpster planet.
“Crap. I mean, the day was crap,” he typed nervously. Luckily, she couldn’t see him blush. “And yours?” he added.
He watched the three dots flicker on the screen. 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 10… something was wrong…
“Help,” appeared on the screen. He got up, grabbed his survival gear and rushed out to his garbage-of-a-spaceship. The vast, black universe blinked above him like a beast with million eyes. She was out there. A myriad of unlucky outcomes ran through the simulations generated by his biomechanical brain. A suicidal rescue expedition awaited.
“Help” was a simple code both of them agreed upon, when they started communicating and had made sure that none of them were bots. Real people to communicate with were a rarity, the Web was vastly polluted by Bots, a variety of AIs, the Ghouls and their Troll minions, and spies of every civilization possible. The Web was a dangerous wasteland, or as Pharrell loved to call it the mega dumpster. Nevertheless, her signal reached Pharrell’s planet. He knew she might be a spy. Yet, he wanted to believe she wasn’t.
Pharrell knew her approximate whereabouts. He loaded his survival gear into the ship. He twitched and moaned - the war-damaged biomechanics weren’t used to him running around or feeling stressed. The last years had been relatively calm. His biomechanical brain produced a pulsing pain as a reaction to unusual action. Pharrell slapped his own forehead multiple times, hoping that would solve the problem.
“Damn garbage!” He cursed at his own reflection on the dark surface of the ship’s windshield. It was a common aftermath for retired soldiers, such as him. Though in his early thirties, he was considered a veteran by the Cydonian laws. Surrogate orphans were used as cannon fodder from the early age of sixteen and dumped to retire on some shithole planet as veterans by their thirties. Just to get them out of sight. Pharrell was one of the lucky soldiers to have survived this long.
“Prepare for take-off, Margaret!” He commanded the ship’s AI.
Her hologram appeared in the co-pilot’s seat; a stunning brunette in a skin-tight suit. If the holo wouldn’t have been glitching time after time, Margaret appeared almost real. Just as he programmed her.
“And where exactly are we heading at this late hour?” she asked.
“Sector 9.2., West Cydonia, Orpheus.”
“Seriously? I wouldn’t fly there if I was in charge,” Margaret arched her eyebrow.
“Sir,” Pharrell corrected her, “what was I thinking when I gave you this attitude?!”
“Oh, you know exactly what you were thinking… sir,” Margaret gave him a dirty smirk.
“Remind me to re-program you when we get back,” Pharrell blushed at the feisty hologram.
“If we get back, sir! Sector 9.2. is no joke. Whatever business have we there?”
“None of your business!” Pharrell retorted.
“Oh, should I be jealous?” Margaret snickered.
“Just shut up and let’s get this show on the road!”
“What a gentleman!” Margaret rolled her eyes.
***
“You do realise we don’t have enough fuel to fly back?” Margaret asked after the roaring and clinking of the old star ship had been the only sounds filling the starlit silence for a while. Pharrell stared at the ship’s monitors intensely; he had no doubt the old tin can would malfunction on its way. He hoped it wouldn’t. It had to pull through!
“Apart from the fuel, will we make it, Margaret?”
The AI reclined in her seat and pursed her holo lips.
“I guess it depends on you, doesn’t it?”
Pharrell gave a heavy sigh.
“The technical status, Margaret!”
“Oh, that! Of course, sir!”
Lines and lines of data rolled through one of the monitor screens, but Pharrell didn’t really need to see it. He knew the ship well enough to tell whether it might break or not by the noises it made. The data only confirmed it.
“Pleased, sir?”
“Not at all, Margaret,” he grunted, staring at the screen.
“We can still change course and turn back, sir.”
“Have I ever turned back?”
“Never!”
“Somebody needs my help, Margaret. We must get to Sector 9.2.”
“Ah, I knew it was a woman! Well, I hope she’s better than me.”
“She’s real, unlike you.”
“Are you sure about that? What is real these days?” Margaret’s holo eyes stared into the starlit abyss in front of them.
“I swear, I’m re-programming you the first chance I get! You’re way too real sometimes,” Pharrell shook his head.
“My point exactly!” Margaret squinted her eyes and gave him a sour smile.
***
They’d been flying for a couple of hours when the ship’s engine made THAT noise. The whole vessel shook, agonizing.
“Sir, it’s not looking good!” Exclaimed Margaret.
“Steady her, Margaret! We are so close!”
“Not close enough, sir!”
The violent shaking of the ship made Pharrell’s headache intensify. He held tighter to the steering wheel.
“Margaret, manual mode!”
“Sir?!”
“Margaret, stop fidgeting! I’m taking over!”
“In that case - impact in 5… 4… 3… 2…”
Pharrell pulled the wheel up, but it was too late, the ship crashed onto the surface of a tiny sphere - one of the many moons of Planet Orpheus in the West Cydonia planet system. It was so close to sector 9.2. Still Pharrell had failed…
The impact didn’t destroy the ship, because of his last-minute interference.
He moaned, grabbing his head. The headache intensified from the crash; Pharrell unstrapped himself from the pilot’s seat and fell down. Margaret kneeled by him.
“Why do you bother, you can’t help me, Margaret.”
“I know, but I’m programmed to show compassion, for whatever reason,” she shrugged.
“Oh, great...” Pharrell grunted, sitting up. Somebody was demanding the permission to board ship and judging by the flickering red and blue lights it was the Ghouls.
“Should I let them enter, sir?”
“What choice do we have, Margaret?
“None, sir! But I must say, I can’t stand them. Running their dirty scanning programs all over my software! Brutes!” Margaret flipped her holo hair.
“We must obey the authorities. I was flying into the sector without an official Permit.”
Margaret granted the Ghouls the permission to enter the ship, which meant that 5 holograms of men wearing black uniforms appeared on the ship’s command bridge. GHOUL stood for Governed Holographic Overwatch of Unified Law, a web of controlling instances the Government used to keep the Cydonia system’s citizens on a short leash.
No physical intrusion was necessary.
“You have trespassed the border of Sector 9.2. We have not detected a Permit. The ship’s registration number states it is the possession of a veteran. Present your registration number, soldier!”
Pharrell had always found it degrading; he bowed his head with a sharp move, so that the holo-cops could scan the number tattooed on the back of his neck and detect the microchip of his biomechanical brain.
“Greetings Pharrell 024367. You have served Cydonia well, but now it’s time for you to return to the place of your retirement.” All 5 holograms saluted as one. Every time they did and said the exact same things. Pharrell had been trying to escape his retirement stubbornly, every time he got “caught” by Ghouls and escorted back home like a disobedient child. They didn’t dare to arrest a veteran - the Government of Cydonia took great pride in the veterans and “honoured” them once or twice a year, but would gladly forget about their existence for the rest of time. No wonder! The survived soldiers knew all about the dirty ways the Government led wars. Murdering the young of other people’s, sending sixteen-year-olds in front of their main forces as a living shield, Pharrell had seen it all. He, as a surrogate orphan was an ‘untouchable’ veteran - the likes of him were considered “Government’s mistakes”.
Nearly all infants were generated in artificial wombs; biomechanical organisms operating in the Government’s Genetic Centres. The only connection the biological parents had to the developing infants was the biological material they provided - the eggs and the sperm. The parents could reject the infant anytime. At the time of Pharrell’s “batch” of infants developing, there was a powerful solar storm on the system’s nearest Star. The developmental operational centre had suffered from power cuts. If only for a couple of seconds, it increased the chance for the embryos having developmental problems. The 30% possibility of the infants being born with damaged brains was a good-enough reason for the parents to reject most of the batch. The Government wouldn’t let these surrogate orphans go to waste. Especially when despite the speculations they came out of their artificial wombs physically healthy. What a huge addition to the cannon fodder lines! The Government of Cydonia was able to carry out some significant military operations because of this little genetical malfunction. Not that Pharrell thought there was something wrong with his body. The later addition of biomechanics to his brain to make him a proper soldier hurt like hell until he got used to it. Maybe that’s the developmental problem - his body did not cooperate well with the biomechanics. Plus, he was incredibly stubborn.
“My ship isn’t fully functioning.”
“Scanning…” the holo-cop said mechanically, “your ship is in good enough state to travel back to your residence after we provide it with fuel and we give it a good pull.”
“Excuse me, that’s quite enough scanning, thank you!” Margaret exclaimed, after the scanning had made her glitch furiously. The holo-cops ignored her. They saluted and prepared the ship to be pulled back home. Their robots refuelled the ship, attached it to the GHOUL patrol ship and off they went. The impact had set the ship’s systems right, Pharrell almost wished they’d malfunctioned; to be taken back like a child or a senior was a humiliating punishment. He rather wished to end up in jail, besides…
“Homebound again, sir,” Margaret snickered. Pharrell squinted his eyes, thinking. The “Help” written on the cracked screen of his monitor ran through his mind.
“Oh, no… I know this expression…” Margaret said.
“Margaret, all engines at full capacity, manual mode on!” He yelled out the command.
“Here we go again… yes, sir!” Margaret rolled her eyes; it wasn’t the first time her “sir” attempted to escape the Ghouls.
Pharrell pushed the engines to maximal acceleration and steered the ship to the side swiftly. The ship was fully fuelled and flying! They were at the border of Sector 9.2. The chance was too tempting not to take it!
The ship pulled the cord connecting it to the Ghoul vessel, until the thing snapped! Which accelerated Pharrell’s ship’s flight even more.
“Yeah! We’re flying, baby!” Pharrell yelled.
The old tin can hadn’t been moving this fast for ages!
Pharrell enjoyed manoeuvring through the space debris and asteroids. The adrenaline rush made him forget the headache. He had always enjoyed speed. If it wasn’t for the misfortunate solar flare, maybe he’d be a pilot know. Maybe he’d have loving parents worrying about him flying too fast. Maybe even a wife and some kids, waiting for him to return after each flight. But now all he had was his broken life, damaged health, and a serial number on the back of his neck.
“Enjoying yourself, sir?” Margaret smirked at his childishly exited face, avoiding hitting an asteroid at maximum speed.
“Did we ditch them?”
“I believe we have, sir! What luck! But… what now?”
“I have no idea… all I know is she lives in Sector 9.2.”
“That’s an absurdly insane number of possibilities!” Margaret exclaimed.
“It sounds almost promising when you put it like that, Margaret!”
“I meant quite the opposite, sir.”
“Okay, I have an idea! Let’s find a place to hide from the Ghouls and figure out our next move. Margaret, find me a bar!”
He made himself more specific; Margaret searched the Web for a peripheral bar, out of sight and not wildly popular, until she found a suitable place.
They slowed down, flew to the outskirts of planet Orpheus’ vastly populated areas. Luck was on Pharrell’s side indeed; the mists above Orpheus hid his little vessel and the Ghouls and other spies didn’t waste their time patrolling around shitholes like this area. Pharrell landed his ship behind some large cliffs nearby the bar - a dusty old box-shaped concrete building.
“Do wait up for me, Margaret!”
“Sadly, I have no other choice. Don’t drink too much, sir! Your flying skills might be of use later.”
“Just admit it, Margaret, I’m better at handling speed than you are!” Pharrell ridiculed the AI.
“Fast doesn’t always mean good, sir.” Margaret gave him the most lustful smile.
“I know, I know, you’ll reprogram me as soon as we get back! You always say that.” Margaret said and rolled her eyes.
Pharrell sat in the empty bar. Apparently, this place really wasn’t popular amongst the citizens of Orpheus’ peripheral area. The cities were busy and crowded, Pharrell wouldn’t go there even if he could. On the rare occasions when he managed to outsmart the Ghouls, he went to places like these - the outskirts of cities lying on the edges of civilization.
The android bartender filled up his glass for the third time, still Pharrell hadn’t come up with the plan how to find her. Aery9.2. was the name she gave. He figured 9.2. was the Sector she came from. He wrecked his biomechanical brain to scan all the bits of information she revealed about herself in their conversations, but still he had no clue… Pharrell gulped the whiskey, the old-fashioned Television screen behind the bartender’s back showed a news reporter interviewing a young woman. Pharrell’s eyes glided over her beautiful face; the perfect blond locks framed her face, her green eyes stared straight at him.
“…and what would your Majesty wish to say to the people of Cydonia before you leave?”
“When you’re lonely… look at the stars above your head. And I’ll be looking at the stars too, thinking of you…” she replied, with tears gathering in her eyes.
Pharrell could not believe his ears… these were the words they shared. He and Aery9.2. often spoke about loneliness and the stars. Those where his exact words. Pharrell stood up staring into the woman’s eyes.
“Who… who is that?!” he stuttered pointing at the screen.
“You must not be from Orpheus, sir? It’s her royal Majesty, princess Aereal of Cydonia.”
Pharrell didn’t give a shit about politics. He never watched the news. He had no idea who ruled the Ten Sectors of Cydonia, and up to this point he didn’t care. The Government annoyed him with the Ghouls, and he vaguely knew there was once a royal family in charge.
“Why was she crying?”
“Sir?” the android tilted his head to the side.
“I mean, she looked unhappy.”
“Oh, no wonder, sir. The latest news said the Government had voted for her to marry the Senator of the Styx system. You know what they say?! Styx system is worse than a Black hole! Ha ha ha!” the android gave a mechanical laugh.
“Voted for her to marry…? How? She’s the princess,” Pharrell couldn’t think straight; the biomechanical brain did not operate well after 2 glasses of whiskey.
“The Government can decide for her, yes, the new legislation allows it. Should I quote it for you?”
“No,” Pharrell chugged down the third glass.
“More, sir?”
“No, thanks,” Pharrell paid the bill and hurried to his ship.
Sector 9.2. was no joke, just as Margaret said. Pharrell quickened his stride - a bunch of punks were trying to smash their way into the ship. Some were throwing boulders to crack the ship’s windshield. The bigger ones fidgeted to break the doors.
“Hey, back off! That’s my ship!”
The punks looked at him - these were street kids.
“The fuck it is!” Yelled The tallest of the bunch, a green-skinned Murblard, “it’s ours now!”
Pharrell sighed; though taller than him, the Murblard was merely a teenager, judging by how little hair he had. Full grown Murblards were green giants with a luscious black wave of long hair. Pharrell knew. By the orders of the Government, he was assigned to slaughter Murblard infants, a full nursing house of them. Pharrell had seen and done gruesome things during the Cydonian-Murblard war.
He knew there was no point in lengthy discussions. He ran straight toward the Murblard and punched his face. The green giants were slow.
“Hey, why did you do that for?!” The green teenager cried, holding on to his nose.
“I am a veteran, and this is my ship. I know damn well how to take down a Murblard! Now fuck off!” Pharrell said sternly. The punks were impressed, they scurried away like a bunch of cockroaches.
“Murderer! Child slayer!” The green boy yelled looking back at Pharrell and showed him a rude gesture.
The kid was right. Pharrell gritted his teeth; the headache intensified. He placed his palm on the ship’s lock-screen and let its scanner run a red line of light across his eyeball. The door swooshed open.
“Oh, thank the Creator! I told you Sector 9.2. was dreadful! Those monsters nearly broke in!” Margaret whimpered as soon as he entered.
“Why didn’t you call me, Margaret?”
“Calls give you headaches. I’m programmed to show compassion and keep you safe from pain and harm,” Margaret retorted. Before he said anything, a message reached Pharrell’s biomechanical brain. Only the Government could send DMs to his brain. Pharrell grabbed his head - it hurt like hell. He could read the message. It invited all veterans to Princess’ Aereal’s wedding. In one hour. The bastards were kind enough to invite the veterans, but wise enough to make sure most of them wouldn’t have the time to arrive. How convenient! Well, they were in luck! Pharrell was close enough to make it on time.
“Margaret… I’ll need my service dress uniform. I’m going to a wedding,” he said when the pulsing pain released him.
***
“I must say… sir…” Margaret said eyeing Pharrell with a shameless stare, “I do love a man in a uniform,” she licked her lips.
Pharrell took a deep breath, but said nothing, whilst assessing his looks in the mirror. He knew damn well Margaret was secretly lurking while he changed clothes, although he made her disappear. He had obviously programmed her to be as stubborn as he was.
“Sir, you do realize she might not be your…”
“She is. I’m completely sure. And she’s in danger.”
“Of what? Getting married to another man? It’s a suicidal mission, sir! You can’t help her.”
Pharrell clenched his jaw stubbornly.
“But… since you’re going to try anyway, I hope you’ll succeed.”
“Why Margaret! Are you willing to share me with another woman?” Pharrell snickered.
“I didn’t say that. First you get her here. If she’s no good for you, I’ll catapult her into oblivion.”
“Thank you, Margaret!”
It was the first time in his whole life Pharrell felt privileged to be a veteran. All the Ghouls and the servants of the Government gave him way and escorted Pharrell through the festive venue. They couldn’t get rid of him; he was the “Government’s mistake” and a veteran, and he made it on time, properly attired and with an official invitation.
He was one of the few veterans present. Right away he could tell - the rest of them were phonies. Probably never been to a real battlefield. The guests were escorted to a light banquet with champagne and refreshments. Pharrell didn’t drink a drop. He had to focus.
Luck was on his side. Veterans were given the honour to escort the bride to the Altair. There were some twenty of them, all lined up in a corridor, at the very entrance to the Wedding Hall. The large doors to the Wedding Hall stood open, Pharrell could hear subtle music and the guests murmuring.
Pharrell stood in the middle of his line. The door behind them opened. Princess Aereal looked stunning in her white and emerald dress, though her face was more than grim and her eyes teary. Pharrell’s heartrate increased; his palms got sweaty. The headache intensified. She was so damn beautiful! Could she really be his Aery9.2.? Pharrell questioned his sanity. To kidnap a royalty, a princess from her wedding, the most protected woman in the whole Cydonia system, did not seem sensible… though, strangely, it appeared quite doable. There were only a few armed guards surrounding her. None of the veterans, including Pharrell, had weapons. Why would the princess be left so exposed? Pharrell’s brain generated several plausible versions: a) this was a ruse; she was a look-alike to protect the real royalty, b) this whole thing was a set-up to catch terrorists and traitors, c) more protection was hidden out of sight.
Pharrell ignored all three options. Instead, he made the biomechanics calculate the most efficient way of getting to her and escaping together. Margaret was instructed to follow his whereabouts and fly to him after he’d given her the signal. Pharrell was well used to close combat situations; his actions were quick. He pushed the fake-veterans out of his way, disarmed the nearest guard, immediately shot both him and another guard trying to attack him. None of them were trained in the brutal situations like he had; each friction of a second bore the possibility of failure. In no time he locked the princess in a tight grip, holding the gun against her head.
“Back off or I’ll blast her brains out!” Pharrell yelled. The guards did as they were told. Princess Aereal shook and shrieked in his arms.
“I will not hurt you. Trust me. I’m Pharrell0.2.” he whispered in her ear.
There was no time to explain. He retreated to the door, dragging the princess along. He shot two guards as soon as they appeared in the doorway behind them. He shot some more running toward them down the corridor. Pharrell grabbed the princess’ hand and ran into a side corridor. The buildings that the Government built where all the same - simple but planned for maximum efficiency. Pharrell’s brain generated a typical plan of the building’s layout; he knew where the emergency stairway and the exit were located. He ran manoeuvring through the hallways, avoiding the guards. He was fast, faster than any of them; poor princess couldn’t keep up. The poor thing shrieked as he shot the guards left right and centre. He barricaded the door to the emergency staircase. An alarm signal sounded through the whole venue.
“Come,” he grabbed her by the hand and nearly dragged her upstairs. Since the exit was downstairs, he ran in the opposite direction. He didn’t need an exit. He needed Margaret.
“Margaret, fly her up the roof and stand by!” Pharrell pressed his own temple to communicate with the ship’s AI. It hurt like hell. His head was pounding with pain, but he had to endure it. He could hear the guards coming after them.
“How can I… trust you?!” The princess finally came to her senses and asked, completely out of breath.
“I count the stars every night, when I can’t sleep, and I think of you,” Pharrell recited one of her messages.
“Are you really...?” She was interrupted by bullets firing at them, Pharrell made her duck along with him, they ran into the open space of the rooftop. Of course, they were expected by the Ghoul ships hovering above the building. But luckily, he had programmed Margaret according to his military training; his ship hid in the shadows of nearby buildings and flew to the fugitives like a hawk, full speed. Margaret slowed down only for Pharrell to jump in, holding the Princess in a tight embrace. Door slammed shut while the spaceship swooshed past the Ghoul ships, showering them with bullets, and away into the mists of Orpheus.
“Good job… good job Margaret,” Pharrell gasped, lying on the cold metal floor, still holding Aereal in his arms.
“I recall you said something about handling speed, sir?” Margaret’s voice was full of triumphant ridicule.
“Good job…” he moaned, the pulsing pain got unbearable; the usual aftermath of moving too fast, but the intensity of it was something unfamiliar to him. Pharrell released the princess and passed out from the pain.
***
“…and I’m telling you, I am a trained medical expert with a degree in biomechanics! Are these all the medical supplies available on the ship?”
Pharrell heard a woman’s voice speak loudly. He twitched; every sound stabbed his head like a dagger of pain. Somebody held his eye open and shone a bright light into it.
“Even if we had more medical supplies onboard, I would never allow some… stranger to perform questionable medical actions on my Boss!” He heard Margaret state in a stubborn tone.
“Margaret… my head…” Pharrell said.
“Your AI is not cooperating. I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned, manual way. Though I haven’t done it since my training. This might hurt a bit.”
Pharrell saw a blurred image of a blond woman leaning above him. Her fingers ran across his head, the feeling was quite pleasant. She was searching for something. Her fingers found the spot on the back of his head where it hurt the most. She pressed on it, Pharrell screamed in pain, Margaret muttered a curse, but Aereal didn’t care. She found another spot on his forehead, opposite the first one and pressed the two simultaneously. The pain retreated almost momentarily. Pharrell’s vision cleared.
“Easy there,” Aereal held him down, because he nearly jumped on his feet, “or you’ll end up in pain again.”
Pharrell laid down supported by her. Aereal kept her hand behind the back of his head, rubbing the same vulnerable spot.
“It’s a common defect of ageing biomechanics. You should have them removed. Or get a new version.”
He stared at the green-eyed beauty touching him gently; it had been a while since he felt a woman’s touch. The last encounter he had with women was years ago - every soldier knew the way to the nearest brothel of their dislocation, but the last time he went there, Pharrell above all felt pity and disgust.
“Are you really Aery9.2? I mean… it was way too easy…”
“Yes, I’m Aery. It was easy for someone like you. You never said you were a veteran!”
“Didn’t want you to think I was old,” Pharrell smiled; not to feel the constant pain was heaven, and her touch made it even better.
“I did sometimes imagine you as a funny old guy,” Aery gave a quick laugh.
“And I you as an old, lonely cat lady.” Both laughed. Pharrell reckoned she must’ve been some ten years younger than him, a stunning woman in her mid-twenties.
“Oh, how precious! Isn’t it all just too good to be true?!” Margaret said and her holographic image appeared next to them.
“And kidnaping a princess from her Wedding shouldn’t be as easy as it was,”
“Forgive Margaret, I don’t know what I was thinking, when I programmed her,” Pharrell apologized.
“Margaret, mute and holo image off!” he exclaimed hastily before the AI got to say another word. Margaret scoffed and disappeared.
Aereal sighed.
“It was easy because the Government wanted to get rid of me discreetly. They don’t care much how or where to shove me. I’m the last of the Cydonian King’s dynasty. A relic of the old world. They made me marry that old pervert from the Styx system.”
“Your groom will probably come after us.”
“I doubt it. I would’ve been just another specimen in his collection. Yes, he collects wives of all races. He wanted a royal one. I believe I would’ve been wife number 78,” she smiled.
“You are beautiful,” Pharrell spewed out and blushed, the recent rush of adrenaline made him feel drunk. Or maybe it was her smile…
The lights in the whole ship glitched. Maybe it was Margaret or maybe they were being chased after and attacked.
“Margaret, what’s going on?!”
No answer.
“Margaret, unmute! Holo on!”
The AI turned up again, with hands on her hips.
“Couldn’t last five minutes without me!” she said.
“Margaret, are we being attacked?”
“Of course, we are!”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” Pharrell yelled.
“You muted me!” Margaret retorted.
The ship shook; something rammed it.
“Unbelievable!” Pharrell got up and the three hurried to the bridge.
“You can’t give her my seat!” Margaret protested.
“It has seatbelts and human protection, which you don’t need!”
Pharrell strapped Aereal into the seat, and took the pilot’s seat. The ship kept shaking.
“Margaret, what are we dealing with?!”
“Three GHOUL ships.”
“Only three?”
“No wonder! They’re just pretending to come after me,” Aereal shrugged, “a formality.”
The Ghouls demanded a permission to board ship.
“What will we do, sir?”
Pharrell looked into Aereal’s frightened eyes.
“This time they’re getting shit!” Pharrell pushed the old ship to the maximum of its capability, they swooshed away from the GHOUL ships.
“We won’t be able to keep this speed up for long, sir! Will run out of fuel and the old thing will malfunction.”
“I know, Margaret! But… some things are worth fighting for, even if failure is inevitable…” Pharrell said, both him and Aereal stared into each other’s eyes and held hands for a moment. Then he grabbed the wheel and manoeuvred through a field of asteroids.
The old ship shook without anybody touching it. They might have escaped the Ghouls, but the ship wasn’t in its best shape.
“She’s going down soon, sir!”
“Margaret, find a landing area near us!”
“There is none, sir!”
The ship made THAT noise again.
“I’m sorry, but we might die soon,” Pharrell apologized with a rueful smile. He couldn’t not smile looking at the stunning beauty sitting beside him.
“In that case, I want to thank you! At least I’ll die free.”
Aereal unstrapped her seatbelt.
“Put the seatbelt back immediately! Safety instructions!” Margaret shrieked. Aereal leaned to Pharrell and kissed his lips. He kissed her back. As much as he wished to go on, Margaret was right. Aereal had barely strapped back in the seat when the engines went CRACK! and BOOM!
Pharrell tried to hold the ship’s trajectory steady, but it was still going down into the dark starlit nothingness beneath them.
“Hold on!” He yelled.
The ship shook and span violently, it fell for what felt like ages…
***
Somebody touched his cheek gently. A warm hand searched the back of his head and pressed the vulnerable spot. The headache released him.
“Aery?” He asked. Pharrell opened his eyes to the red light of the ship’s emergency mode; the ship had crashed.
“How come we’re still alive?”
“Margaret took over,” Aery smiled, “she detected a landing area. I don’t know how, but she got the ship running at the last moment.”
Pharrell felt the ship swaying. It had an inbuilt function of landing on water.
“We landed on a liquid surface, sir!”
“Water?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are we?”
“I have no idea, sir! My navigation system lacks data about this area. We fell a long time. It’s a peripheral planet with an atmosphere, the air is suitable for humans.”
Two sets of beautiful female eyes stared at Pharrell and smiled. He laughed.
“It looks like I’ve died after all and gone to heaven!”
“Don’t you try to sweet-talk me, sir! I still haven’t forgotten you muted me!” Margaret said with a devious grin.
Pharrell unstrapped his seatbelt. The monitors kept glitching and Margaret along with them.
“Are we drifting to some kind of a shore, Margaret? Can you detect anything?”
“We are sir. It’s night-time on this side of the planet, but it’ll be morning soon, you should be able to see the shore in the daylight.”
The ship’s swaying in the waves was soothing. Pharrell and Aery both got out their seats. Apart from some bruises and minor injuries, both were intact. The landing must’ve been relatively gentle.
“The ship and Margaret suffered more than us,” said Aery, “we had quite a talk about you while you were unconscious,”
“You did?” Pharrell exclaimed, “why?! What did she tell you?!”
“Sir, as soon as the ship shuts down completely, so will I,” Margaret said, “I thought princess Aereal might need to be instructed how to handle you.”
“What did she tell you?!” Pharrell asked nervously.
“She told me that you should be handled with care,” Aery replied softly. They stood staring at the dark waters behind the windshield.
“I never believed in fate before this,” Aereal said quietly, “but us communicating was a miraculous coincidence. I used an out-dated device, a smartphone, a relic of times long gone. I never thought the signal could reach somebody.”
“My receiver was out-dated. I nearly threw the old thing out,” he gave a short laugh. They stood in silence, looking at the light creeping above the horizon.
“If the Government didn’t care about you, why couldn’t you just leave?” Pharrell asked. There were so many questions on his mind.
“Where would I go? As a veteran, you should know how the Government operates. They would do anything to look good for the people. That’s why they didn’t terminate me,” she took a deep breath, “everything looked perfect. Princess got a good education. Then she had to get married, and moved away to a far-away system. Only problem – she refused to do it. When I wrote the “Help” code, Ghouls came after me and dragged me to the Wedding venue for preparations and interviews.”
“It must’ve been fate,” he stuttered, “I mean… our conversations, me being what I am…” They stared into each other’s eyes.
She touched his face. Strange, how a simple human touch can feel so healing, Pharrell thought. He embraced Aery; that felt even better. They kissed. First softly, then hotter and hotter. After the lonely months they spent conversing, pouring their hearts into flickering words on the other’s cold screen, the warmth of the physical touch felt strangely right, it fed the hunger for nearness.
“Are you going to have sex now? Not on my ship, if you will!” Margaret said loudly. She sat leisurely in the co-pilots seat, observing the two.
Aery laughed.
“Your Margaret is something! I like her.”
“I’d like her to shut up and disappear!” Pharrell grunted.
“It will happen soon enough, sir! And I bet you’ll miss me when it does.”
“I bet I won’t!” Pharrell snapped at her, but Aery’s soft touch made him forget his anger. She turned his head back toward her lips. Kissing in the red dark above the black waters was a manifestation of life, a protest that made Pharrell feel more alive than ever.
The morning rose while they kissed. All the darkness dissolved into the vibrant colours of the new world they’d fallen into. The sky was bright blue, the water was a clear turquoise ocean, swaying them toward a white, sand-covered shore, with juicy green trees growing further ahead.
“Margaret, can you detect any life forms on the shore?”
The AI glitched constantly.
“I…. Not… no life… fish… animals,” she tried to reply.
There was an instant life raft in Pharrell’s survival gear. The orange lifeboat would take Pharrell and Aereal to the shore. Just before leaving, Pharrell looked into Margaret’s glitching face.
“Goodbye, Margaret! I’ll… I’ll miss you. I promise, I’ll try to fix the ship’s solar batteries, to keep you operating. I’m sorry for leaving you here. You are my friend,” Pharrell braced himself; soldiers did not cry.
“Don’t… promise… sir… friend…” she managed to reply, whilst glitching. And then they left. Pharrell tied a thick, solid cord to the ship, its length was enough to reach the shore. He tied the other end around a tree trunk. He didn’t want to lose Margaret completely.
“What now?” Aereal asked when the two stood in front of the lively, colourful wildlife of the tropical jungle.
“We’ll explore,” Pharrell replied. It was an island, thriving with edible fruits, fish, birds, and small animals. Little by little they explored the island, and each other. They were the first humans setting foot on this land.
It was perfect, the island gave them food; Pharrell had a tent in his survival gear.
The mosquitos did bother them a bit, but they laughed it off sitting by the fire.
“Here we are, sitting under the stars together. I never believed it was possible,” she said. Aereal wore one of his T-shirts like a minidress. Her thighs bare, her hair swayed in the gentle breeze; she was the most attractive thing Pharrell had ever seen.
“Yeah, not for someone like me. The Government considers me a piece of biological garbage, left on a peripheral planet to rot, out of sight,” he poked the fire with a stick.
“And I’m the stubborn, unwanted royal trash they wished to shove further away,” Aereal smiled ruefully.
“Don’t ever call yourself trash,” he said sternly, still staring into the flames.
“Don’t call yourself garbage,” she replied with equal stubbornness. Their eyes met; they clashed in a kiss. They undressed. The scent of her skin drove Pharrell mad; he inhaled her along with the scent of the ocean and the lonely starlit sky. As he laid on her, his head began to pound with pain. Not again, not now! Aereal felt him slowing down; her delicate fingers found the same painful spot on the back of his head. The pain retreated. She pressed on it, all the while they made love.
“This is what I call a retirement,” he laid on the soft, golden sand, with Aery under his arm, both watching the sun rise above the turquoise-blue water. Pharrell suspected it was all too good to be true. It might be some kind of a simulation, created by his damaged biomechanical brain, or even worse – the Government could’ve been using him as a lab rat in one of their sickening experiments. Even if this was real, Pharrell had no doubt one day they’d find him, following the signal of his brain. But that didn’t frighten him. Quite the opposite. He decided to live each moment to the fullest. His paradise was here and now.
The ending was beautiful, I enjoyed it.
Thank you for completing the story.