A stifling day in a 'cool' October — a mere thirty degrees Celsius outside. A light breeze blew tumbleweeds and dust down the street. Techno music from the "golden ages" played from the speakers. The table was a mess of tablets, dice, and miniatures on a holographic grid, with a Game Master's screen in the center. Everything had paused as the aliens stepped out to get an order from a delivery drone. They stood beside an orbital machine that looked like an old muscle car.
"How do you like my ride? Cool, isn't it?" The youngest of them bragged, shaking his keys. "Graduation gift."
"I am not someone who brags, but the size of my transport is much larger," Wilder said, pointing toward his ship. "A graduation gift of the same kind."
"Alright, Wilder, you win! We're heading back in your "giant," and I call dibs on the music — something to make everyone dance!" Phoebe said, her eyes lighting up.
"Group suicide — that idea has its own internal logic, Phoebe. Statistically, groups like ours often end their lives that way. Your decision to invite me into this group is an interesting social pattern." Wilder made a dry sound, almost like a laugh.
Universal silence.
"Shall we continue our game of 'Spice and Space'?" Another suggested.
The aliens settled into their seats and began to eat something that slightly looked like pizza, washing it down with beer. All their food came in the form of tablets, kept in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. I called those tablets with their exact amounts of fats, carbs, and proteins 'pizza', only for the irony. The nutrition was all there, but there wasn't a hint or taste of actual pizza in them, much like there was no real meat at the Wilders' dinner table. I'm using simple comparisons to keep the text from getting messy with their strange life. Try explaining a phone to a primitive person: how we manage without stalking skins, but can't survive without scrolling screens. Yeah, you understood who the real wild person is here. Ha! Hold on, don't close the book just yet, I'm only joking! And about the beer — yeah, it's 'natural' beer. But don't go thinking it's got any natural hops in it. Not at all! Look, if "Costco" sells piss under the name "beer," that is what their beer tastes like.
Today was tabletop day in their almost cult-like circle. They spent the morning filling the room with bottled oxygen; without the extra oxygen, they would simply suffocate in that cramped space. The central oxygen system couldn't keep up with the demand. While the oxygen supply failed to handle the stuffy air, the Game Master had no trouble managing the stuffy players. The AI Game Master was running the show, and they were finally in the home stretch: day thirty-three of the session.
"Before you lies the tablet." An image of an artifact appeared on the map screen. "Which of you will take it?"
"Me, obviously! Today, my hands aren't just hands, they're automatic lasers — every roll is a perfect hit! Besides, I'm the most agile one here." Phoebe reached for the artifact with crazy excitement.
"Not necessarily; there might be a strength check," the Veteran replied.
"So, Space Ranger Brosli, you are hit by weak electric shocks…"
"Ow! Guys, they actually sting… just a little… Cheddar, crank up the power!" Phoebe commented.
Cheddar looked at Phoebe, wordlessly asking: 'Are you sure?' She gave him a sharp nod. He looked at her again, and this time, she actually got angry. That was it; she knew exactly what she was doing. The Veteran dialed up the settings.
"The shocks get stronger… Brosli, you must be pure and honest before everyone. For if you lie — you shall be hit."
"Shocks? Guys, are you serious? Are we really playing "Truth or Dare" right now?" Phoebe became nervous, putting on her widest, slightly crazy smile. "Oh-oh, my palms are sweating... This is a game for alien who want to either destroy a friendship..."
" Surprise! "Truth or Shock," to be exact," the Veteran was extremely happy. "Game Master, ask a provocative question!"
"Very well!" The AI Master didn't wait. "So, Brosli, to pass through the "Great Gates," answer this: have you ever lied to your friends? And if so, how?"
"Fine, I confess! I lied! I told them they looked great today."
Phoebe tried to make a joke, but she was instantly hit by a shock. She cried out, her hand flying off the panel.
"The answer was dishonest. The Gates do not forgive trickery; they devour Brosli. The character is permanently dead." The AI spoke without emotion. ""Crooked-teeth" are crawling from every crack: they smell burnt meat. Heroes, a combat situation has begun!"
"Whoa, there are so many of them..." Cheddar was shocked. "We won't survive this."
"Guys, you really set me up!.. Mmmph!.." Phoebe started, but a food was quickly shoved into her mouth.
"I hear the voices of the dead, this is no good," Cheddar muttered, covering Phoebe's mouth. "It seems they forgot the deal with the living world: the dead do not speak."
"I make contact with the tablet!" Wilder decisively slammed his palm onto the panel. "I lied to my friends. I told them I had good dreams about my double, because I was afraid to admit it: in reality, I have nightmares." Tears streamed down his face.
And Wilder laid it all bare. He shared his background: the non-stop bullying in school, the wall of silence between him and parents who were always too busy laying the groundwork for success stairs. And now, the final blow — his father simply dumping that entire crushing burden onto his shoulders. The alien left the game. They crowded around the shaken Wilder, insisting he had done the right thing. Sincerity proved more powerful than any lie, and their respect for him only grew.
"It's okay, Wildy. You didn't have to lie — we love you exactly as you are," Phoebe said, refusing to let go, holding him in a tight embrace.
"I'm actually flattered you made that up... just to be like us. It means we're cool!" Cheddar said, nearly crying.
"Always about you, isn't it..." the Rookie teased the Veteran.
"Gmyhy-vha!" Wilder mumbled, squeezed tight in the pleasant grip of their affection.
"Guys, we're going to suffocate him!" Phoebe pushed them all back.
"Vital signs are unstable... However, I will state this: if my life were to end at this exact moment, I would consider it acceptable."
"Then let's finish him off with love!" The Veteran cried out, lunging in for another round of huge hugs.
"Stop it, Cheddar! Give Wilder a break," Phoebe shoved the Veteran away. "We won't be seeing him for a long time as it is."
Wilder was soon to depart on his first trip a so-called "free hunt" run. The jorney began with a cargo delivery to a transport hub in another city. Beyond that lay the void: there were no return jobs for independent haulers who weren't on the payroll of the big corporations. They would have to look for work on-site: at other hubs or, as a final resort, beg for low-rate jobs from the transnational giants. Best case scenario, they'd visit eighteen locations and return home with a half-empty ship for a local tool shop. Worst case, they'd get stuck at the end of the line, searching for a way back, and after three days of finding nothing, return home with an empty hold. Their hometown was a depressing place with no production of its own. The only thing produced here on a massive scale was oxygen like other once. Exports consisted only of waste from the oxygen plants.
It wasn't the journey itself that was worrying him, but the alien he'd be with. They say you can walk through hell as long as you have your friends to support you. And no! I don't mean you've made a deal with Satan to sell their souls. The author might do something like that, but not Wilder. Oh, that didn't even cross your mind? Well... talk about awkward! Back to our regular story. Looking at the team's files, he felt like he was looking for models for a prison fashion show. The faces in the photos were mean, hardened by life. Wilder, with his sensitive soul, looked at them with pure fear. He was convinced these aliens would either burn him or he'd wake up with a knife in his ribs. Better not to joke with them, better not to speak at all.
Before departure, he prepared carefully: he built a secret hiding spot for himself in the weapons locker. This "captain's cabin" was tiny a mattress his size barely fit inside. He brought all his personal things there: a pillow, a blanket from his college days, a supply of snacks, his gaming console, and a tablet full of media. He hoped the entire journey would pass within this small, safe bubble. In the morning, the crew arrived in their old, broken-down vehicles. Three of them. Anna — a coordinator and assistant who had worked with his father back when the ship belonged to someone else. Sam — a half-cyborg covered in artificial parts, the loader and the handylien. Gabriel — a pilot with a very high libido. Perhaps that was why it felt so natural for him to always have his hand on the control stick. As for Wilder himself, on the official documents, he was listed as the engineer and captain.
"Boy, get yourself over here, tap this here!" The half-cyborg was the first to run over to the Captain, opening a hologram and pointing to the right spot on the interface.
"I'm going to have to pass. The whole thing smells like a trap — I'd even call it a practical joke," Wilder hesitated, refusing to take the bait.
"Wait a second, will ya? It's nothing but a bet on the games!" Sam started spinning the virtual panel, showing that everything was honest.
"Then what's the point?"
Wilder barely got the words out before Sam grabbed his hand and forced his finger across the screen. The display flashed a neon green: Bet Confirmed. Strange. Usually, back in school, tricks like that would have given him an electric shock.
"Thanks a lot! See, my doctor formally cut me off — thinks I've got a gambling problem. But he didn't say anything about setting up a bet, just so I could watch how I would have failed. But look here, boy — it's a guaranteed win. A total certainty." Sam spread his hands wide, a chitin grin on his face. "And hey, who actually did it? It definitely wasn't me!"
"Oh, kid Wilder! I remember your father like it was yesterday..." Anna laughed. "Probably because I actually saw him yesterday."
"..."
"Eh, baby... why are you tho thweet?" Gabriel joined in, trying to join the conversation, but was immediately stopped by an elbow to the ribs.
"Keep it in your panth, Gabri! I won't let you mess with the kid," Anna snapped, standing up for her commander.
"Thanks, Anna," Wilder mumbled and quickly retreated to his weapons-locker.
"Just like his old alien..." Anna sighed, watching him go.
Wilder sat in his cozy hiding spot, watching hours of contents. Mostly about wormholes. It was a hard truth to accept, knowing he had the tools for a new life as a pioneer, a discoverer of worlds, yet he was stuck here. They all knew the rumors: distant planets with real alien, real greenery, and water that didn't taste like it came from a recycling factory. He imagined a world where a green lawn wasn't a symbol of wealth for the ultra-rich, but an ordinary sight — something every person in the suburbs could roll out in front of their house like a cheap rug. And the trees? If there were more than one lonely trunk in a glass box, the oxygen monopoly would fail in a heartbeat.
But he didn't know what lay beyond those wormholes and was just as clueless about his own crew. They'd taken control, leaving Wilder to simply feel the ship's movements. He felt the lift-offs, the landings, the heavy sounds of cargo being moved in and out. The ship was a relic; every time the stabilizers started working, it felt like a violent reminder of its age. Whenever Wilder took a break from the contents, he could hear the muffled roar of arguments through the walls. He couldn't catch the words, but the hatred in the tone was clear. He only came out to use the toilet, and every time, the view was the same: Gabriel, extremely bored, sitting badly at the helm while the window changed between blinding light and the dead, black void. The tension was so strong you could cut it with a knife. If the crew was together and saw the Captain approach, they'd run away like roaches when the lights turn on. One day, he slipped out into the hallway, quiet as a ghost, and happened to catch a conversation he wasn't meant to hear:
"Thith ith where we caught fleath latht time... I caught 'em with my genitalth. Clamped 'em between my ballth. Itched like hell, but it felt good to thcratch. Can we thtop there, Anna?" Gabriel said with a smirk, his lisp heavy.
"I'll leave you there by yourself!" Anna cut him off. "We need to get this unloaded. I'm not spending all night stuck with this cargo."
"This is some dangerous shit..." Sam was clearly nervous. "Will this old ship eat it up, or are we all going to meet our dead relatives?"
"Who cares!" Anna's voice was hard. "If the owner doesn't care about his ship, why should we?"
"But isn't it going to just crush us? This rot has put entire cities in the grave..." Sam wouldn't let it go.
"There your limbth will fall off, ahaha!" Gabriel roared at his own joke. It was especially mean, considering Sam's arms were artificial.
And then, the door behind Wilder's back betrayed him with a loud click. He froze, blinking in terror. The crew turned: at first, something like guilt flashed in their eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger.
"Did you want something, Kid?" Anna asked, looking closely.
"Yeah... The toilet." Wilder stuttered.
"Then go."
Wilder had never understood movies where a captured hero asked to use the restroom and then tried to escape. He always thought there simply wasn't enough time — until it finally clicked: the toilet was just an excuse, not the goal. In his case, everything matched: he really needed the toilet, but he wanted even more to see exactly what they were carrying. It turned out to be radioactive elements that destroyed organic matter. In this world, they worked as a local replacement for metal in ship hulls. The cargo was packed with total carelessness, slowly eating through the chitin armor of the Main CP-01. Wilder stood completely still. He hated the ship, but he saw no other future in his life. He would have to take command; otherwise, this "chitin junk" would become his casket.
He didn't sleep a wink all night. He spent the hours walking back and forth between the 'cozy hiding spot' and that burnt, radioactive mark on the floor. The radiation hadn't leaked through the hull yet, but it was only a matter of time. The thought kept him anxious. He even tried cleaning it with a rag, a sad attempt to wash away the inevitable, telling himself he'd done his best. When the cleaning failed, he retreated into his screen, watching HR management content and tutorials on how to remove atomic stains from chitin armor. By sunrise, he'd found the courage to leave his sheld. He marched down to the loading bay where a fresh load of "hot" cargo was waiting. Anna was already there, perfectly calm, forging the Commander's signature on the shipping list. She was ready to move.
But Wilder stepped into the light. He shut the operation down, refusing to let his name be used. He used the rules against her citing data protection laws and personal rights like he was reading a holy text. He knew the truth: the legal power his father had given her was now invalid. Wilder was the owner now; her old authority was nothing but a scrap of paper. The contractor, not wanting a legal headache, took the crates back to the warehouse without a word.
"Kid, what the hell are you playing at?" Anna rushed at him, grabbing his nipples and twisting them with enough force to tear leather. "That delivery was a straight shot to the hub. We could've been home by morning!"
"You know, they twisted my nipples so often in school that I've developed total sensory immunity," Wilder said, his voice completely flat. He didn't even move. "It's just skin irritation at this point. Let it go. I've found a contract with a much higher ROI."
"Kid, you can never have too much skin in the game. We'll spend more on fuel getting there than we'll make," Anna hissed, but Wilder cut her off.
"I'm willing to split mine part of profit fifty-fifty. Half my profit, straight to you."
Anna froze. You could almost hear the gears grinding in her head as she did the math. She slowly let go of him, her face changing into a sharp, hungry smile.
"I always knew I liked you, kid," she purred.