Slumped in his chair on the bridge of the Angel Fish he’d found himself shackled too. Both emotionally and contractually Thom squinted at the overly bright glowing screens that displayed the various ships systems. He hated the stupid things, the bright blue/white light hurt his eyes but company policy insisted this was the correct brightness for safe operation. Rubbing his bloodshot eyes the dog grunted and tried to focus, it was hard though he’d had to spend the night sleeping in zero-g which was uncomfortable.

The massive, bulk freighter, refuelling and rescue ship was slowly maneuvering itself away from delivery hub where he had just taken on more cargo. It would be at the jump coordinates in another ten minutes and then he’d be off, hopefully on a direct route to his next destination. But knowing the peculiarities of the AI running the ship there would be some inane detour to go look at an astronomical phenomenon it noticed on the way.

Ever since it had its core programming tweaked to make it capable of running rescue operations it had developed a weird quirk. It was fascinated with dangerous stellar phenomenon as if it was hoping they’d find ships in trouble at those locations.

Rubbing his muzzle the dog sighed and slumped lower in his chair and watched the countdown timer. It had been nice to be off the ship for a while, he’d even met a sympathetic barkeeper who’d been willing to listen to him ramble on about everything wrong with his life. Not that he’d been able to afford anything more interesting than a soda-water and slice of guaranteed real lime substitute.

He’d been forced to fix the gyro stabilisation coils on the primary docking thrusters during the last trip. Rental cost for the industrial engine toolkit, on top of all the other employee rental charges had all but wiped out his wages. That was one of the worst aspects of the job; he’d had a pretty decent life as a deep space courier. She it meant travelling lots and stressful deadlines but at least he’d chosen that job. Then his company had been purchased and wound up by REZQ and before he could blink he was handed a legally mandated contract and shipped out to meet the Angel Fish.

So here he was, trapped on a floating orange coated tin-can on his own. One man crew for a massive bulk freighter clumsily and hurriedly “refurbished” for rescue operations. His only companion a less than stable AI core and all the high-tech gadgets, tools, gizmos and devices he could ever need to run the ship and rescue operations with. All available for a reasonable rental cost should he need to use them.

“Ok computer can you run me through pre-jump check list?” Thom waited for a moment, drumming his fingers on the faded, cracked leather armrest of his chair, “Computer!”

“Oh, I am sorry Thom,” the computer responded, “I was watching something, pre-jump checklist… checking… checking… very well you have stored the cargo in an acceptable manner, I will begin pre-jump check-list.”

“Of course I stowed it in an acceptable manner, you refuse to jump if it isn’t stowed how you want it,” Thom snapped, glaring at the AIs bridge camera, “We’d be ready to jump a lot faster if you let me stack things according to size rather than your arbitrary rules!”

“You sound frazzled Thom,” The AI responded in its calm, measured, helpful voice, “You have not been getting enough rest, do you require me to quote REZQ LLC’s employee good care and healthy living guidelines?”

“No,” Thom muttered, “I do not need the guidelines, I ran out of gravity allowance again, you know I hate sleeping in zero-g.”

“Thom,” the AI chided him, “Your weekly gravity allowance is allocated in accordance with your employee contract and technical grade which as you know is unskilled.” It switched to its up tempo, extra cheerful upselling voice and Thom groaned as it rattled into a sales pitch, “If you want more you can purchase the Premium, Platinum, Gravity add-on pack which provides you with constant gravity in all personal areas of the ship. For the competitive price of £98.76 a week, shall I sign you up?”

“No!” Thom howled at the computer, thumping his arm on the chair, “I can’t afford that. If you let me sleep on the bridge I’d not have this problem, it always has gravity.”

“You know working time directives do not permit employees to use work space areas for recreational activities.” Thom groaned and sank his head into his hands, his long brown ears flapping from side to side as he shook his head back and forth. “Now then shall we proceed with the pre-jump checklist or would you like to hear about other employee add-ons to help make your life easier?”

“Just… run through the checklist and then jump us out of here. I’ve plotted a three jump course, I would like to arrive on time so I can score that early delivery bonus this time.”

“There is an interesting Pulsar, two jumps over, we could fly by that and…”

“No pulsars, you promised if I stowed the cargo properly you’d follow my preset navigation course!” Thom glared at the navigational display, “If you take us so much as a second off course I am going to let myself into the cargo hold and push everything over.”

“Fine… environmental systems, online, employee #52345 Thom onboard and accounted for. Docking hatches and airlocks stowed, engineering deck secure. The reactor is at nominal output and all coordinates are locked.”

“Great, then start jump sequence.”

“Unable to comply, jumping would contravene customer service guideline 78, your desire to jump out-system and ignore a waiting customer will be noted in the log and HR will levy the appropriate fine.”

Thom’s eyes opened wide and he sat bolt upright in his chair, “What!” he screamed at the consoles, “What customer, what did you do!”

“I did nothing Thom, but the SS Silvereine is requesting docking and they are a registered REZQ customer, they’re the thing I was watching.” the ai paused to let that sink in then brought up Thom’s employee file, the mug shot was terrible. Brown furred canine, long ropey black ears in a bright orange regulation REZQ t-shirt, “Now shall I make that log for HR or…?”

It left the question hanging and Thom groaned and pulled the navigation panel over, “Ok, ok, I’ll plot a route past that pulsar… and ugh make docking arrangements with this ship. What the hell do they want?”

Thom’s employee file flicked away and a docking trajectory graph flipped up onto the main display instead, “Excellent, they have however not said what they require. But they appear to have full diplomatic immunity and REZQ LLC. has picked up the contract to service their needs on a Diamond Package.”

“Wonderful,” Thom muttered glaring at the docking screen, “Rich foreign dignitaries… well brilliant! Just what I don’t need to deal with today.”

“Docking will be accomplished in thirty minutes, I suggest you go get ready to greet them.”

“Yeah, I am going,” Thom sighed and levered himself out of the ancient, but comfortable cracked leather command chair and shuffled across the deck in his sock clad feet toward the door. He hated dealing with customers in person, why couldn’t he just stick to cargo or sorting out derelict wrecks.

-0-

Dropping to one knee Thom adjusted his left boot, making sure the seals were aligned and the boot would adhere as one piece to his suit. Satisfied with the integrity of the boot seals he pulled himself back up to his feet and checked the mirror.

The day-glow, safety orange and silver hazard, here-I-am reflectors of his spacesuit stared back at him. Oh how he hated day-glow orange but that was what HR said he had to wear. He spent nearly half his life in this space suit, fur crushed beneath its weight as there were whole areas of the ship off limits to him if he wasn’t in appropriate safety gear.

It thankfully smelt faintly of lemons with a hint of vanilla extract and pillowy soft, just tumble-dried cottony softness. For once a REZQ fuck up had seen the Angel Fish stocked with enough air fresheners, cleaning products and deodorisers for a full crew compliment. Somewhere a computer thought the Angel Fish required enough cleaning products for a crew of two hundred, so rather than living in a spacesuit that stank of sweat and stale him he could keep it positively sparkling, spring fresh and clean.

It was about the only benefit he’d found, nothing else ever went his way. Pulling on his helmet Thom tucked his long brown ears through the slits designed for them. He then had to perform the laborious task of zipping them into the long earsocks that attached to the base of his helmet. It was horrible, being so constricted, confined entirely inside this suit, reliant on it to keep him alive when the door to void outside opened.

Checking all his seals once more Thom picked up the landing guidance paddles, two long batons that glowed with bright orange strobes. Satisfied he was on the internal oxygen tank and safely tucked inside he flicked the com-circuit and spoke to the Angel Fish.

“I am ready to go outside, open the landing bay doors.”

“I can’t do that Thom,” the AI cheerfully informed him, “Landing bay doors are set to manual.”

Groaning Thom clumped his way across the bay to the hatch controls. Depressurisation was easy to manage but manually ordering the hatch to open was a clumsy job whilst wearing space suit mittens.

“Ok landing bay doors open,” Thom clipped a line to his belt and with his mag-boots on full took long, steady clomping steps out onto the landing platform at the back of the Angel Fish.

Following the directions in his HUD he watched as the tiny speck of light Angel Fish informed him was the SS Silvereine drawing closer. Now for the boring bit, standing around in the vacuum of space and waiting for a ship to land. Ten minutes later the Silvereine was close enough to make out some details. The hull was a flat bottomed ovoid, encapsulated in a rippling blue/green ionised field or shield of some sort. The shuttles exhaust plume was fluctuating, bright then dark, bright then dark, so they had some sort of engine trouble, great, that was going to be expensive to fix.

“Thom,” the AI murmured into his helmet speakers, “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a Priority Alpha call for you from HQ.”

“What?” Thom started to ask but was interrupted as a screen flicked on covering the interior of his visor. A severe looking woman with her hair tied up in a bun stared out at him, her hands steepled atop a desk.

“Employee #52345 Thom, confirm identity…”

“Yes… I’m Thom, who are…” he was cut off as the woman started speaking.

“Our system notes you are about to receive a customer that holds diplomatic immunity, this is a courtesy call to remind you that as per paragraph 1798, sub-section 57 of your REZQ LLC. employment contract any experiences, conversations, ideas, knowledge or technical specifications that you observe if you are taken aboard, have reason to board, are invited to board a craft holding diplomatic immunity are the property of REZQ LLC.”

“What I…” Thom tried to talk again but the woman just kept going. He stopped paying attention as she started to waffle off a load of legalese and checked, it was definitely a live feed not a recording.”

“This disclaimer is provided as per industrial standards set by the convocation of consumer obligations. REZQ LLC. and our parent company have now informed yourself, Employee #52345 Thom of the Angel Fish of your obligations, required behaviour and your compliance is mandatory and legally required.”

She paused to take a breath but before Thom could form words she started up again, “This call has been placed via the REZQ LLC. interstellar communications network. You have been billed for this reminder, the fee shall be deducted from your wages as per standard employee agreements.”

The call ended, the REZQ logo displayed momentarily and then his visor cleared. For a moment Thom just stood there, stunned, shoulders drooping as he tried to marshal his thoughts after that bombardment of contractual HR bullshit speak. Then the proximity landing alarm started to beep and with a curse the mongrel started to wave his landing paddles up and down, trying to signal a proper descent path for the shuttle. It mostly ignored him, swooped over his head landed on a pad and was drawn into the shuttle bay as the pad retracted. But like a good employee he stood there, waving his little navigation paddles like a prize pillock, racking up the rental fee of 50p per 30 seconds they were out of the storage rack in the hangar back. Once the ship was latched in place Thom clomped back inside the hangar bay and ordered the doors to shut and the bay to be repressurized.

Removing his helmet Thom shook his head to set his ears free and walked over toward the odd craft. With the field off he could see the hull was intact, there was no physical damage to the engine cones or tanks at the back. Moving over to a control console he activated the communications circuit and waited for the system to tell him it had connected.

“Hello, I’m Thom,” he said in his cheery most customer friendly voice, “I will be your designated REZQ rescue technician how can we help you today?”

For a moment there was silence then a voice whispered out of the speaker, “We are of the Arouna, we require energy… the charging port has been released for your access, re-charge us and then we shall depart.”

Sighing inside Thom gave a cheerful, upbeat, customer friendly response and started to operate the energy transfer grid. Clumping across the deck he plugged the heavy duty super conductor cable into their ship and stood back to let it do its job. It didn’t sound like the mysterious foreign dignitaries would be leaving their ship. So he had a fun hour of watching dials on a screen and then back to the interior of the ship, alone with the AI and their special, scenic tour of a nearby pulsar!

Watching the dials tick up Thom contemplated the best way to cook dinner that night. He had a grand choice of Nutrient Block C or Nutrient Block K and as much hot water as his allowance would permit, piped directly out of the ship’s systems. Sadly REZQ’s bad management of suit and crew cleaning supplies hadn’t extended into the food he had available. He did however have a huge stock of finest energy drink knock offs, he’d picked up a crate of them at the port. Standing around without much to do he waited and watched until the diplomatic shuttle was ready to leave. Then it was unplug superconductor, open bay doors, order the landing pad to slide back out onto the vehicle platform and let it depart.

Standing just inside the open bay doors Thom watched the shuttle leave then clomped his way back inside. There were a list of maintenance and cleaning tasks he had to do before dinner and their first jump. Sighing Thom closed up the vehicle bay and headed off into the ancient corridors of the ship. There was so much to do, no one to talk to and just the Angel Fish all around. Tugging at the thick collar of his spacesuit he contemplated taking it off. It was heavy and uncomfortable but no, one of the first jobs he had to do was down in engineering and health and safety insisted he wear the suit down there.

Tying his ears back to keep them from flapping around Thom floated toward the engineering hatch and tried to work out the best way to clean the waste extraction filters, on his own, in zero-g… it was going to be a horrid job. But someone had to do it and as he was the only someone that meant it was him! Oh well, maybe there really would be someone in need of rescue at the pulsar and he’d get to talk to another person! Or he could give into the AI and play charades with it… no, no he had to be strong it wasn’t that bad… not yet.

~fin