Young Writers Society

A high-pitched beeping woke Janny up. He jerked up and hit the back of his head against the headrest. He also hit the top of his head against the ceiling, and remembered with a groan how utterly tiny this cabin was. He felt his forehead and found a steering wheel width dent from where he’d been leaning against the console. The steering wheel didn’t move as he sat up, the manual controls locked as the autopilot ferried him along.

He tried to stretch his neck his neck and arms but there was no room to move. The best he could manage was a quick whip of his form, like he was an elastic band pivoting around an invisible bar in the air. Then he remembered what had woken him up.

The beeping was coming from behind his left ear so there was no way he was turning around to inspect it. But just to the left of the steering wheel a little strip was flashing orange, with the word ‘INCOMING’ in black in the middle. Janny looked out the window, but saw nothing approaching.

“I don’t see anything!” he cried, to nobody in particular.

“Would you like to superimpose a different view on the window?” asked a calm female voice.

“What the?” Janny twisted around as far as he could. “Who was that? Where are you?”

“This is shuttle control interface Kiax Three. Please speak your command in concise Endoleon,” the voice replied.

Janny raised his hands as far as he could without hitting his knuckles on the ceiling. “Finally, a robot that doesn’t sound like it’s underwater. This is some proper machinery, I say.”

“Outstanding request confirmation: would you like to superimpose a different view on the window?” the voice said.

“Right-o. Yes please,” Janny said. “Preferably the direction from which whatever is incoming is coming… in.”

An image flashed on the windscreen. It was barely distinguishable from the actual view outside - in fact Janny imagined if he were to screw up his eyes the stars would slip into different positions just like they had with the addition of this new image. But a moment later a little orange circle appeared around one of the dots near the bottom of the screen. It was getting bigger and bigger, and the circle was pulsing in time with the LED.

“Er… small shuttle robot? Have you any idea what that is?” Janny asked.

“That is a Type-Four Horidonian missile. Autopilot trajectory will intersect with missile trajectory in forty-three seconds,” the voice said.

“Well, that’s nice,” Janny said, “Is there any way to stop that?”

“Liaising with autopilot system,” the voice said before he’d even stopped talking. “Attempting to disable.”

Janny waved his hand in the air, not caring that it hit right into the console. “Right, then. Fine. Whatever. Let me know how it goes, if you would.”

He gripped the steering wheel tight, willing it to let him swerve to the right. All the while the dot in the picture was getting wider, the beeping getting louder. He squeezed his eyes closed as he blinked, desperately trying to force the missile to stop in its tracks. What even was a Horidonian missile, or a Horidorian for that matter? And what in the galaxy did it want with him?

“Agh!” he cried, as the cabin jerked to the right. He sprang backwards, letting his hands slip off the steering wheel. Once it had righted itself, Janny held it properly and trained his eyes on the approaching missile.

But before he could even decide which way to go, the cart rumbled, shaking his bones.

“Second missile detected,” the interface said.

Janny didn’t reply as he watched the missile that had passed beneath them continue forward. It powered forward as the missile got closer, barrelling out to meet it. When they collided, they one that had come from below the ship let off a puff of green dust, which settled on the other and slowly, silently, began to dissolve it. When the first missile was completely gone, the other turned around and zoomed back the way it had come, shaking the craft again as it passed. The backs of Janny’s legs shook for a little while after it was gone. Then a few sparks of pain shot around his thighs, settling into a dull tightness just above the knee.

“Was… was that you?” Janny asked, eyes flitting around the cabin as if maybe he could meet the eyes of the robot.

“Yes,” replied a voice, but it was much deeper than the interface robot.

“Lestili?” Janny asked, carefully balancing the steering wheel to keep his trajectory on a roughly forward path.

“Yes, it’s me. It was me. I saved your skin,” Lestili said. “Sorry it took so long. My radar noticed the missile hours ago but you’re so far out. Now, let’s just reset that autopilot. What you want to do is-”

“Wait.” Janny did his absolute best to keep his voice even. “Who sent that thing, and why did they want to blow me up?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Lestili said, “They probably want to blow me up. I’m sure they just thought I was you. Joke’s on them though. Took them out with their own Dissolution Dust.”

“Well then why did they want to blow you up?”

“Look, TIPO has many enemies. The Horidorians were annoyed about this campaign we ran where we hacked some of their communications. But we were only doing it because they were contravening trade law. Everyone does it!” Lestili cried. She had clearly been through this argument many times from the speed at which she was talking. “But seemingly in this specific case there just so happened to be Gifens monitoring our communication and Gifens are the main competition of Horidorians in this one specific market. But that market was becoming more-”

“Oh my good Gods,” Janny said, putting up his hands.

“You did ask,” Lestili replied.

“Yes, well, forget I did so,” Janny said, sighing.

“Well, in any case, here’s how you put the autopilot back on,” Lestili said.

Janny frowned. “You can’t just do it remotely? Not through whatever channel you’re speaking to me on?”

“No, no. It’s a calibration thing,” Lestili explained. “The interface is attuned to your voice.”

Janny took a deep breath. He’d been here before, even if there had been a friendly admin assistant to help out and take him to a hotel. But somehow, despite the dark, empty space around him, and the pain in his legs that was intensifying at a frankly alarming rate, his breathing was slow.

“Computer interface person?” he said.

“What are you doing?” Lestili asked.

“Yes, how can I help?” the interface replied.

Janny grinned. His heart rate did begin to speed up a bit, but he didn’t mind. “Look, Lestili, I was not made to be out here dodging missiles and hanging around in big black artificial space cubes-”

“It’s starlight purple,” Lestili muttered.

“I was made to focus my every ounce of being on a mop, a brush, a duster. I love that feeling of completion, when there’s not a single speck in sight. It’s like a blanket of new-fallen snow. You know, the way it is before it gets all slushy when kids run around building snowmen and having snowball fights.” Janny’s smile grew wider as he pictured a particularly grubby navigation screen he’d finally got clean last week, after days of persistence.

“What’s your point, Janny?” Lestili said, her voice flat.

“My point is that flying spacecraft is not where I thought my life would end up, but if I have to fly a spacecraft to get back to my crew - Fri, Cri and Upumsel - the best, if slightly reluctant team money could ever buy, then so be it.”

“Janny…”

Janny stared straight ahead and said, “Set location: Hub Six, Flexie District. Or the nearest port to that, or some such suitable arrival point.”