Episode 13: Corporate Interest

"No buyers? Seriously? Is that even a thing?"

Taro was so shocked he fumbled his wrench, watching it clatter toward the floor. Marl snatched it out of the air with practiced ease before it could cause any damage.

"’Is it a thing?’ Of course it’s a thing! That’s how business works, Taro—you need a buyer and a seller," Marl sighed, handing the tool back. "Nobody at a backwater station like this is looking for Military-grade Armor Plate. It’s obvious if you think about it for more than two seconds. Honestly, I was careless for even hoping."

Taro took the wrench and turned back to the hunk of scrap he’d been dismantling.

"I guess... yeah, when you put it like that, it makes sense. It’s like trying to sell door-to-door machine guns in a retirement village. Not exactly a hot market."

"The analogy is a bit aggressive, but you’ve got the gist. We’ll have to haul it somewhere with more traffic or higher demand. The military would pay a fortune for this stuff, but if we show up at their door with it, they’ll start asking awkward questions about where we ‘found’ it."

"Yeah, let’s definitely skip the interrogation," Taro muttered. He didn't think he’d done anything illegal per se, but he had a spiritual allergy to red tape and military brass.

"See? This is the Galactic God telling you to stay put," Marl teased, a mischievous smirk dancing on her lips. "Besides, what’s a little Iceman like you going to do out there? You can’t even walk in zero-G without looking like a birthing giraffe. Your total lack of common sense would get you killed in a week."

Taro huffed and turned away, though he couldn't exactly argue the point. She’s not entirely wrong. I’m basically a toddler in a spacesuit.

"Well, that is the problem... I mean, I’ve got Koume to handle the heavy lifting, but she’s got her own issues. She’s... well, she’s weird."

[CALLING ME ‘WEIRD’ IS QUITE THE CHARACTER ASSASSINATION, MR. TEIRO. I AM AN AI, NOT A HUMAN. BY ALL LOGICAL METRICS, I AM THE PINNACLE OF STABILITY AND COMMON SENSE.]

"Liar! AIs like you don’t just grow on trees!" Taro barked back.

"Oh, stop it," Marl chimed in, looking sympathetic. "You’re hurting poor Koume’s feelings."

"No, no, you don't understand, Marl-kins! She’s a menace! Just the other day, she—"

The trio fell into their usual rhythm of bickering and banter. On the surface, it was another idyllic, peaceful day in the void, but Taro felt a nagging tension beneath the surface. He stole a glance at Marl, sensing that she felt it too. The clock was ticking.

"—and that’s why she’s terrifying! Don't you think that's messed up?"

"Hehe. Honestly? I think it’s just your fault," Marl laughed, then checked her HUD. "Anyway... time’s up."

Taro glanced at the clock on his BISHOP interface. It was the end of the shift. Normally, he’d be cheering for quitting time, but today felt different.

"Right... I guess that’s it, then. These three months went by in a blink, but I had a blast. I learned a lot, and hey, the pay wasn't half bad."

Taro pulled off his work gloves, gave her a playful wink, and extended his hand. Their arrangement—the three-month life support contract Marl had provided—was officially over today.

"You really saved my neck. I can’t thank you enough... So, uh, if you’re up for it..."

Taro’s face went uncharacteristically solemn. Marl’s hand hovered, twitching as if to take his, but she hesitated. Finally, she let her arm drop limply to her side.

"I can’t. I don’t have a reason to help you anymore."

"Haha... right. Yeah, of course."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. The air grew heavy and awkward as Marl looked away, staring longingly at the exit.

[EXCUSE ME FOR INTERRUPTING THE MELODRAMA. MISS MARL, MR. TEIRO, I MUST PROFFER A FORMAL APOLOGY.]

Koume’s voice was a welcome life raft in the sea of silence. Marl forced a stiff smile. "What’s with the sudden formality, Koume?"

[IT PERTAINS TO THE THREE-MONTH LIFE SUPPORT CONTRACT YOU RECENTLY REDRAFTED, MISS MARL. I SEEM TO HAVE NEGLECTED TO OBTAIN MR. TEIRO’S OFFICIAL SIGNATURE. IT WAS A SO-CALLED ‘OOPSY-DAISY.’]

Both of them stared at the console, blinking in synchronization. Marl looked like she was about to ask why it mattered now, then suddenly, the gears turned. She stiffened.

"R-Right! I suppose an AI as advanced as Koume is bound to make the occasional human error... Don’t worry about it. I mean... um, thanks."

[NO, THE GRATITUDE IS MINE TO GIVE, MISS MARL. AS A RESULT OF THIS OMISSION, THE COMPENSATION IMPOSED UPON MISS MARL IS NO LONGER FOR A THREE-MONTH TERM. IT HAS BEEN RECLASSIFIED AS ‘FOR THE TIME BEING.’]

Taro finally caught on. His jaw dropped as he looked from the AI’s terminal to Marl’s blushing face.

"S-See? What did I tell you? She’s a total glitch-fest!" Taro shouted, leaning into the excuse with everything he had. "There’s no way we’d survive on our own with her acting up like this. I mean, I’d love to set you free, really, but... well, the contract! It’s binding!"

"Exactly! If the contract says so, I have no choice!" Marl shouted back, her voice an octave higher than usual. "Hehe... Koume, you’re right, aren’t you?"

[ABSOLUTELY, MISS MARL. FURTHERMORE, THE REPAIR COSTS FOR THE ROCKBOY HAVE BEEN SETTLED USING THE PROCEEDS FROM THE SALVAGED HULL MATERIAL. TERMINATING MR. TEIRO’S SUPPORT NOW WOULD CONSTITUTE A BREACH OF CONTRACT.]

"Oh no, what a tragedy," Marl said, her acting so hammy it belonged in a deli. "I can’t afford to get arrested by the Imperial Government for breach of contract! They’d seize Rocky! I’d lose the shop! U-Ugh, fine! Get this straight—I’m doing this for Rocky! Not for you! Definitely not for you!"

"I get it! I totally get it!" Taro grinned, his heart doing a little victory lap. "Man, that was a textbook tsundere line. I’m actually moved to hear it in person."

"Shut up and stop mumbling! Come on, let’s move!"

Marl grabbed Taro’s still-extended hand and yanked him toward the exit.

"We need a plan! You were probably just going to wing it as long as you had a ship, weren’t you? You’re absolutely hopeless without me."

Taro let himself be dragged along, a wry smile plastered on his face. She’d hit the bullseye.

"Since we’re doing this, we’re going to find it! We’re going to find Earth!"

Taro didn't say a word. He just squeezed her hand back, hard, letting the gesture serve as his answer.

---

"First things first," Marl declared, "we need to start a company."

The three of them—two humans and one glowing AI interface—huddled together in the cramped Junk Yard office.

"Wait, back up. I’m lost," Taro said. "Are you telling me the Galactic Empire won't even let you go on a road trip unless you’re a registered LLC?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"That is the dumbest— Seriously?! Are you serious right now?!"

Marl covered her ears to block out Taro’s indignant screeching.

[TRAVEL ITSELF IS NOT ILLEGAL, MR. TEIRO. THE ISSUE IS THE LOGISTICAL BACKLOG, AS MISS MARL IS ATTEMPTING TO EXPLAIN.]

"Exactly," Marl nodded. "To find Earth, we’ll need to hop between star systems, which means using the Stargate. If you show up as a private citizen, the waiting list is months—sometimes years—long."

"Years?! Is it a Stargate or a Disney World ride? What am I supposed to do, just go into cold sleep in the parking lot?"

"Actually, yes. People do that."

Taro threw his hands up in defeat. "Wow. Okay. I’m done being surprised. Let me guess: corporations get a FastPass?"

[A PERCEPTIVE OBSERVATION, MR. TEIRO. CORPORATIONS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THE GALACTIC EMPIRE. AS SUCH, THEY ENJOY VARIOUS PERKS, INCLUDING PRIORITY STARGATE ACCESS. THEY ALSO INCUR CERTAIN OBLIGATIONS, BUT UNLESS YOU PLAN ON VISITING THE CORE WORLDS, THEY ARE NEGLIGIBLE.]

"Right," Marl added. "We’re heading toward the frontier, so we should be fine. We could try bribing the gate operators, but I’d rather keep that as a last resort."

"Yeah, I’d rather not give some bureaucrat leverage over us," Taro agreed. "So, what are these 'obligations'? Am I going to get audited by the space-IRS?"

"Taxes are the same for everyone, though they’re actually cheaper for corporations in the higher brackets. No, the real catch is the Government Mission. You have to periodically complete tasks assigned by the state. The specifics vary, but frankly, you can usually just throw money at the problem to make them go away."

Taro pictured a video game quest log. The fact that the government issued them—and that you could pay to skip them—felt depressingly corporate.

"Hmm. I’ve got a bad feeling about 'government work.' What kind of jobs are we talking about here?"

Marl tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Mostly just bureaucratic busywork. Helping the local administration, that kind of thing. Though... there are also Police Missions."

"Police? No way. Let’s leave the law enforcement to the professionals."

"Professionals? You mean like a Security Company?"

Marl looked genuinely confused. Taro felt his own brain start to misfire.

"No, like... the police? The guys the government hires with tax money to catch criminals? You know, cops?"

"We don't have those. If the Empire tried to organize something like that, it would trigger a civil war. Can you imagine a police force tasked with watching over sixty trillion people? It would be larger than the military! It would be a coup waiting to happen."

"Sixty trillion..." Taro slumped. "I’m not surprised. I refused to be surprised."

[MR. TEIRO, FOR THE SAKE OF ACCURACY, SIXTY TRILLION IS THE NUMBER OF REGISTERED CITIZENS ON THE CENSUS REGISTRATION. THE ACTUAL POPULATION IS ESTIMATED TO BE DOUBLE OR TRIPLE THAT FIGURE.]

"So... at least a hundred and twenty trillion? Sure. Why not. The scale is so massive it doesn't even mean anything anymore. 120 trillion? Is that a population or a cell count?"

Taro leaned back in his chair, his eyes glazing over. Marl stared at him with a look of pure judgment.

"You’re surprisingly well-informed, Taro. The human body does indeed have about sixty trillion cells."

"So, between the two of us...?"

"120 trillion. But that’s gross, so stop it. The idea of sixty trillion 'Taros' existing inside one body is a nightmare."

"Ouch. That ‘nightmare’ comment really stings... but you’re right, Marl. I really don't know anything about this world."

Faced with the sheer scope of his ignorance, Taro felt a wave of shame for his own recklessness. Marl reached over and playfully flicked his nose. "Took you long enough to realize."

"A company, huh... I wonder what we should call it..." Taro muttered.

Marl immediately started rattling off suggestions.

The debate raged on for hours. Even as the station's artificial night cycle came to an end, the lights in the small office stayed on.

The list of problems to solve was endless, but for the first time, Taro didn't mind.

I guess having comrades like these isn't so bad after all...