by M. D. Cooper
So much for a warm welcome, Zenith thought. “None of those, we are Civil Customer Service, actually. We are here to assist one,” she looked down at the order receipt, “Darby Ooieand.”
“Darby, eh?” Seaweed asked. “Just for the record, then, that counts officially as Parallax business.”
Zenith swallowed and took a deep breath. She was hoping to have steered very far from Parallax business, but here they were.
“To get to Darby, you have to go down this hallway,” he pointed over his shoulder and to the left, “then you take a right and a left and another left until you get to sector D. Darby’s in room 721. And make it quick, would you? Darby has a lot of work to do.”
Zenith imagined that Seaweed guy was suspicious of her, but hoped she was wrong. The rest of the crew, sure, but she was perfectly normal. And besides, she was here on official business with an order receipt and everything.
The crew continued on their way under his watchful eye and were soon out of sight. “What was that guy’s problem?” Zenith asked.
“What did you expect?” Helo asked. “You can’t take it personally. Nobody trusts anybody this far out into space.”
“But this place looks so normal.”
“Sure, it looks normal, and most of the time it is. I mean, they’re jumpy, sure, but we’ve never run into any real problems on these service calls. Other than getting yelled at and then receiving all of the formal complaints.”
Zenith stopped walking. “Formal complaints? You guys have formal complaints?” She started to hyperventilate again.
“They don’t mean anything. No matter how many you get, they never seem to dock your pay or anything. Aquillon has the most.”
“Yup, no problems at all. Just a note in your file. Angry customer due to unforeseen on-site complications. If you word it like that, then you’re free and clear. They have no choice but to file it and forget it, because the next level of escalation involves them personally flying out here to help the affected party, and we all know that is never going to happen.”
“But the technology we’re talking about here is so old and so simple. It would be a snap to fix.”
“Retro,” Helo answered. “Is super in with these outlaw types. They can’t call into traditional onscreen customer support without being traced. So, they go with ancient technology. It’s older and more finicky, but it’s impossible to trace with today’s technology. That’s why, if something goes wrong, they’re stuck calling us. Sometimes it’s harder than you would think to fix these outdated computers running their old programs.”
“How would you know? You don’t even try to fix them. Hey, can Vermillion hear me still?” Zenith pointed at her own head.
“We’re probably out of range now, why?” Celeste asked.
“Just wondering if it freaks anybody else out that she’s a voice inside your head. That she has access to all of our medical and digital information.”
“This coming from a woman whose best friend was her coffee maker?”
“Well, Joyce was great. You’re just going to have to get over that, Helo. And at least Joyce wasn’t inside my head, okay? I had a choice, I could read or not read the scrolling text.”
“Well, just don’t do anything to piss her off,” Helo said. “She’s ex-military. Like everyone else in Civil Customer Service, she’s running from her past.”
“How can a space ship be ex-military? Or have a past? “
“Trust me. It’s complicated.” He continued walking down the corridor. Zenith and the rest of the crew followed him. They made their way into the heart of the space station toward the housing area, as the Seaweed guy had directed them until they came to a stop outside of the room they had been directed to. This area of the space station looked like the housing area. All of the doors were the same style and had numbers on them. They stared at Zenith. She knocked on the door.
“Hello? Mr. Darby? My name is Zenith, and I’m here with the Civil Customer Service responding to your request for technical help.”
The crew frowned at her in unison.
“What? There’s a script for this sort of thing. In the manual. Which you guys would have known if you had actually read it.”
“I don’t know, guys. She sounds like somebody who’s going to fix a computer,” Helo said savagely.
Aquillon glared at her and made a throat slash gesture.
“Zenith is just messing with you guys,” Celeste said, “Right, Zenith? We’re a team, right? And we were very clear on this point, you’re not supposed to fix anything.”
“Oh, grow up, you guys,” Zenith said and knocked on the door again. They were still glaring at her when the door opened and a mousy guy in a ratty suit and drooping mustache let them in.
“It’s about time you guys got here,” the guy said. “I called for you forty galactic hours ago, for stars’ sake.”
“I do apologize for the inconvenience, Darby, may I call you Darby?” Script, she mouthed to her co-workers before turning back to the customer. They continued to glare at her.
Darby seemed to notice the turmoil between the team, but he pressed ahead anyway. “The computer’s right here. I’m trying to send this message, and it’s not working. This message, it’s really important, though, ok? And it’s confidential.”
That caught Zenith’s interest. A secret message. She was determined to eavesdrop even if she didn’t fix the computer, and frankly, she was starting to dislike the whole zero percent satisfaction thing. What’s the worst that could happen if she broke their stupid streak anyway? Was she supposed to spend her entire career in Civil Service sitting around the ship doing nothing while racking up formal complaints? The idea made her skin crawl. She approached the computer in question. Helo matched her step for step.
“Back off,” she told Helo, “you told me to do it. I got it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered.
“What’s going on here, anyway?” Darby asked.
“Nothing,” Helo said, “just training a new employee.”
Zenith pretended to cough into her hand and spat out an obscenity.
Celeste grabbed Helo and pulled him back. “For heaven’s sake, Helo, let the woman work.” Celeste then shot a warning look at Zenith, who turned to Darby’s computer.
Darby himself had disappeared toward the back of the room, rummaging in a sack. Good, thought Zenith, let’s get a look at this secret message.
The computer was out of date and the software looked even older. The screen itself had frozen on a web search that was of cringe-worthy quality and absolutely filthy. Zenith glanced at the guy in the corner before deciding how to proceed.
“Oh, grow up. What are you, twelve?” he asked, noticing her glance from across the room.
“I didn’t say anything,” Zenith said and restarted the computer.
“No, don’t do that,” Helo said. It was too late.
“Why not?” Darby asked.
“Well, if you thought restarting the computer would fix the problem, then why didn’t you just do that yourself in the first place,” Helo asked him.
“I’m not qualified for that sort of thing, am I? Besides, I’m busy.”
They all stood there awkwardly waiting the several minutes that it took the computer to come back up. Zenith would normally make small talk with the client, but he was off sulking in the corner, and her coworkers were watching her like angry hawks, so there wasn’t anything to say. The room itself was messy but well furnished. Zenith looked around and noticed that there were framed magazines on the wall, most of which involved classic archeology.
“Hey,” Zenith said, pointing at the walls, “I studied a lot of these guys in college.”
“Good for you,” Darby said, not looking up. He didn’t sound like he meant it.
Zenith decided to take that opportunity to grab a chair at a desk across the room and noisily drag it over in front of the computer so she could sit. The tension in the room was palpable when she sat
down and the computer finished restarting and came back up. Thank goodness.
Much to her surprise, the computer itself was not password protected. Odd. She brought up the program and the message that Darby was obviously intending to send popped up on the screen. She read it. Then she read it again and frowned. The more she read it, the more unsure she was of what to do next.
“Well?” Darby asked in a demanding voice. He had moved closer now and was studying her face. “Did the program come back up?”
“Um, er, yes. Actually, it did. Look, there it is.”
“Why are you babbling?” Helo asked.
Darby crossed the rest of the room to stand in front of the computer. He studied the screen and the message. His hand moved to push send.
Zenith didn’t slap his hand away, exactly, she just sort of bumped and temporarily redirected it.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Darby asked.
“I’m just wondering,” Zenith said, daring a worried glance behind her at the crew, “if you’re absolutely sure that you want to hit send. On that particular message. I mean, it looks like the sort of message that’s not going to have any takebacks. If you know what I mean.”
“You have the nerve to come here multiple galactic hours late, bickering into my room, acting very unprofessional and then judge my messages?”
“Hey,” Zenith answered, “who are you calling unprofessional? I read the Customer Service scripts, from memory, exactly how they were phrased in the manual. I got your stupid, ancient computer here working and there it is. Your precious message. So, you just think twice about who you’re going to call unprofessional.” She took several deep breaths. “I also happen to know from experience that professionals bicker all of the time.”
With a scowl on his face, he reached across her and pushed the send button.
That sent a shock wave through Zenith’s mind. She hoped to low orbit that the computer would freeze again. Don’t send, don’t send, don’t send was the mantra in her head.
The message sent.
Zenith’s mind raced. There was only one thing to do. She jumped up. “Thank you for utilizing Civil Customer Service, we sincerely hope you were satisfied with the support you received today. Make sure you check your inbox in the next twelve to twenty-four hours for a survey that could win you various prizes.”
She turned to the crew. “Guys, we have to leave now. And I mean right now.”
Chapter 7
Carl entered his ship. It bothered him that it was shaped like a whale. He liked sleek and silver, not giant, lumpy, and icky blue. When he was in charge, the first thing he’d change would be his ship.
He was still buzzing from the jolt of his throne. Syncing gave him a buzz that was unlike anything he had ever experienced as a human. Human. It seemed so long ago that he had to search for any piece of connection that he had left.
That’s probably what bothered him so much about Zenith refusing to turn cyborg. How could she research the GalaxyDragon with him for months, and feel its pull, and not want to feel it for herself? Maybe she didn’t feel the pull. He pitied her. Was it possible that for her it was just ancient information on a page?
He sat in his chair as the ship filled up with some of his minions. “How many ships are leaving with us?”
“Twenty-four,” his minion said. “There’s something else.”
“What is it?”
“One of the subjects that you’re tracking is on Parallax’s Space Station right now.”
“Who?”
“It’s that human you jettisoned, Zenith.”
Carl puzzled. “What are the odds of that, do you know?” He waited while the minion tried to do the math. “Stop it. I’m just kidding. I know she’s there, I sent her there. My victory will be complete. She will see the error of her ways, and it will be too late.” He closed his eyes and pre-savored the moment. “Okay, get us there quick.”
***
Zenith knew that they had better get out of Darby’s room right now. His message was a call for mutiny, and it wouldn’t be long before the fighting broke out. She beat the rest of the crew to the door to show them she meant business and threw it open, only to see Seaweed guy standing there with a gun pointed at them.
“Back inside,” he said, motioning with the weapon.
Zenith raised her hands. “Hey, we’re just Customer Service people. We fixed the computer, and now we have another job to get to. You don’t need us, he’s the one you want.”
“How do you even know what I want?” Seaweed guy asked.
Zenith swallowed.
“Snitches get stitches,” Darby said to Zenith.
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” said Helo.
“All of you shut up,” Seaweed guy said, “where’s the Galactic Dragon, Darby? I know you have it.”
It’s Galaxy Dragon, and is he kidding? Why does that keep coming up and who would even care? This customer service call was taking a weird turn that even Zenith didn’t see coming.
“Moss,” Darby said, pointing at Zenith and then the crew, “these guys tried to steal it. You’d better deal with them before it gets out of hand.”
“Liar!” Zenith said. “Moss, is it? Well, this guy just sent a whopper of a message to some other crime lord, presumably, saying that you guys were holding him against his will. And you’re obviously not. He looks free to me. Anyway, this other organization is on their way to attack you right now. So, we can vouch for you and all, but this really isn’t any of our business, so we’ll just be on our way.” Zenith tried to squeak by him with her hands raised, but Moss wouldn’t have it.
“You stand over there with the rest of them at the back wall,” he motioned towards Zenith and the crew. “And I’ll take care of you myself, Darby. Where is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Darby said.
“It’s probably in that sack behind his bed,” Zenith said.
Everybody turned to look at her.
“Hey, the guy’s lying about me. That pisses me off. Plus, he’s like, trying to start a mutiny so he can sneak off with whatever it is he’s hiding.” She glared at Darby and rolled her eyes. “Because I highly doubt that he found the actual Galaxy Dragon. Because it’s a myth.”
Moss ignored her and crossed the room, gun trained on Darby. He found the bag. He dumped the contents onto the bed.
“I can’t believe it,” Moss said, “I swear I thought the scout we had watching you was lying. You actually found it.” He picked up the figurine that came out of the bag. It was about five inches high and looked heavy. “The Galactic Dragon.”
“Give it back,” Darby said and pulled a weapon of his own out of his shorts. “It’s mine.”
“Ew,” said Celeste, “where were you hiding that?”
“Galaxy Dragon, not Galactic Dragon,” Zenith said, correcting him. “And wait a minute,” Zenith started putting the pieces together, “if that’s the Galaxy Dragon, and I’m not ready to concede that it is, but for the sake of simplicity let’s agree that you think it is, then the particular crime lord in question that you contacted would be—”
“The Cyborg Caesar,” said Darby, a smirk on his face that was apparently meant to intimidate Moss.
“Whew. For a minute there, Zenith was worried he’d say Carl. She tried to address Moss again. “Whatever. I mean, can’t you guys just mutiny and/or shoot each other without us standing here as witnesses?”
The rest of the crew shot Zenith a very dirty look. She ignored it. “Look,” she pleaded, “make a smart decision. We can get out of here before anything even happens. No witnesses. No loose ends. You guys do whatever in stars you want to do to each other and leave us out of it. What do you say?”
“What do you think, Darby?”
Darby seemed to consider it. Then he turned and pointed his gun at Zenith’s group and shot Aquillon in the foot.
Aquillon screamed, Darby then shot at Moss, who dropped the Dragon and took cover behind the bed. Dar
by grabbed the Dragon. Zenith bolted for the door.
Once outside, she held the door open for the rest of the crew and then slammed it shut. They raced back toward Vermillion.
“I can’t believe you fixed his computer,” Helo said angrily.
“Really? That’s what you got out of all of that? Do you honestly think that now is the best time to have this conversation?” Zenith asked in between breaths as they raced toward the next turn.
“How many times did we warn you?”
“Ok, in my defense, it was a total coincidence that the message I helped send might get us all killed,” she answered, “a million to one odds. Like getting struck by lightning.”
“Our perfect record down the drain.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he’s going to fill out the survey. And we have bigger issues here than your stupid record.” Zenith stopped and screamed in frustration. “I forgot to have him sign the form. Technically it doesn’t count as fixed unless the customer signs the form.”
“Keep moving,” Celeste said and grabbed her by the arm, “are you crazy? Nobody cares about your stupid form right now.”
A row of armed guards moved into their field of vision, stopping everybody in their path.
“Parallax’s men,” Helo said, stopping and raising his hands, “they must’ve gotten wind of the mutiny.”
The guards rounded everybody up and sealed all the exits out of the large open clearing in the D-section area of the space station. They found themselves in the center with everybody else next to the annoying drip-drop of a sea serpent water fountain.
That’s when Parallax himself, a large, orange robot with flame red eyes came around the corner and strode toward them, past them, and toward Darby’s room without a word, while the crowd and the guards looked on. He went into the room and shut the door. There were eight to ten weapon blasts, and then Parallax came striding out with what everybody around here obviously thought was the Galaxy Dragon in his hand, eyeing it like it was worth billions of galactic credits.