By Joe Solmo

                “Earth to Masters. Come in Masters.”

                “Very funny, Travers. I was ignoring you, not deep in thought,” Captain Scott Masters explained looking over the ship’s console. Half the little lights didn’t light up anymore.

                “How long have we been out here now, two, three months. We need to find a wreck soon or we might as well give up and go to one of the mining colonies,” Travers said and pushed a few buttons on a display next to him. The far reach scanners weren’t showing anything promising. “And if I am being honest I don’t want no mining colony ladies. They are always dirty, like the ground miners dig in. Ever go down on a girl and get sand in your mouth? It ain’t fun. Bad for the teeth.”

                “You never cease to amaze me with your class and tact, Travers,” Masters said shaking his head with a smile.

                Early space exploring was both an exciting and terrible time. Experimental ships exploded, broke down, or crashed into objects in space all the time back then. Those ships were made of precious materials. Scavengers made a lot of money going from wreck to wreck and collecting hull fragments and other metal pieces that could be melted down and used again.

                The Earth Space Recovery Company was the only official company tasked with retrieval of those assets, but there were other buyers besides the governments of Earth, people who paid more. A self-employed scavenger could make double, or even triple selling to the right client, even if the sales had to be in dark alleys on Ganymede.

                Masters worked for the ESRC for seven years, taxiing ore and miners to and from the various mining colonies spread across the solar system.  Occasionally he would run into pilots from the scavenging ships, talking about the price of scrap. Those pilots always said they kept a little on the side to sell when they got back home, to put a little nest egg away.

                Run after boring run, Masters fantasized about the money he heard those pilots talk about. What it could mean for his family. A house of their own, instead of a small unit in a high-rise on Mars. It wasn’t long before he would take the ship out “to check out a banging he heard,” with the company mechanic, Travers. Always a pit stop somewhere with space debris floating around.

                At first, they only took a little. Not enough to draw attention to themselves. But the contacts the pilots gave him needed a seemingly endless amount. The offers became too enticing. They took more and more, eventually getting fired for missing deadlines and late deliveries. That’s when they decided to go into business for themselves and give up the charade.

                “Masters, you ever miss the old days of steady paychecks?” Travers asked.

                “All the time Jason. Miss my family more,” Master replied looking at the radar readout. “How long until Pluto station?”

                “Three days. We should have stopped there on the way out.”

                “We’ll make it, even if we have to coast there. Is that Eris on the radar?” Masters asked.

                “Yeah, nothing there yet. One of the last places in the solar system not destroyed by man. You want your dinner here, or in the mess?” Travers asked pointing to the three-foot folding table attached to the port side of the ship. Chairs that lowered from the wall lined each side.

                “You know me, I hate fancy dining,” Masters said and held out his hand. Travers opened a plastic bag and dropped a capsule into his hand. Masters popped it into his mouth without looking away from the scanners. Travers popped his own capsule and put the bag away in a small overhead compartment.

                “Ugh, I got turkey. The gravy is so salty,” Travers said.

                “You think you have it bad, I got corned beef. I hate all the fat, too chewy,” Masters said and swallowed hard. “I am going to have heartburn tonight.”

                “That’s every night when we reset the gravity generator,” Travers joked.

                “Well, fix the damn thing right so we don’t have to shut it down. I am sure it wasn’t designed to overheat,” Master said looking at his partner.

                “Your wish is my command. But you have to buy me the parts,” Travers responded with a smile before continuing. “You know, with all the money we made this year.”

                “I know it’s been slow, but it has to pick up. Ships are still wrecking all the time, we just got to get to them before the ESRC does. While you are at it, fix the high-powered antenna so we can pick up radio signals from father than a day out. Just put it on my bill,” Masters checking the gauges in front of him.

                “Not sure your credit is still good here. To be fair, you haven’t paid me in two months. If it wasn’t for the bunks over there, and the crap-sule food, I would be starving and homeless,” complained Travers.

                “So, what I am hearing is that everything you have, you owe to me. Is that right?” Masters asked, flipping a few switches with his left hand.

                “I guess you could say that. I wouldn’t, but if it helps you sleep at night,” Travers said tapping on the screen in front of him. Suddenly his eyes lit up. “I think I got a transmission.”

                “What ya got? Commercials from the TV age?”

                “Shh!”

                A loud static came across the small tinny speakers. A few seconds of noise turned into words as the ship’s audio processors cleaned up the signal more and more.

                ESRC-zero – one – come in.

                ESRC – zero – one- com link activated. Transmitting possible metal footprint of unknown origin. Fuel too low for fly by. Sending location. Please confirm coordinates received.

                Travers jumped from his station and raced across the cabin. He punched a few buttons on the far console. “Come on you bitch, work for once!” He punched the console hard. A whirring noise started up in response. A smile crossed his face.

                “The recorder working?” Masters asked.

                “Like a charm!” Travers said and gave Masters a look like what did you expect.

                “Are those your own horns you are tooting?” Masters asked. Sparks shot out of the console near Travers. He swore and slapped it with his hand to put a small flame out.

                “Don’t burn my ship up, damnit,” Masters warned. He turned towards the console, still smoldering. “Did the recorder work before it caught fire?”

                “Sure did, calculating if we got the fuel and... with four percent to spare. We can get in and out before the ESRC can send someone out. Shall I plot the course, Captain?” Travers asked.

                “I think it’s worse when you act normal. Let’s hit it. Did they say what kind of ship it was?” Masters inquired.

                “Looking at the data stream now. Unknown.”

                “Unknown. What does that mean?” Masters asked.

                “It means they probably hit something so hard there aren’t big enough pieces to identify. We will be chasing pancake fragments,” explained Travers.

                “Well it’s all we got. How long to we reach it?”

                “Seven hours. Just enough time for a nap,” Travers quipped.

                “You just woke up three hours ago!”

                “Yeah, it really tired me out,” Travers said while yawning a fake yawn. When Travers realized Masters wasn’t buying it, he smiled. “You want to watch one of those remastered Holomovies?”

                Seven hours passed without much incident. The Holomovie file was corrupted, so they only caught the first half of Stanley’s Ship O’ Fools. The screen was blank for several minutes and they sat in silence until Travers broke it with an observation.

                “You know having that file shit out halfway though, it’s kind of left me hanging like a Mars hooker when she finds out I have no money.” Travers joked. He tapped the radar screen. The glitchy screen was showing the metal signature across most of the grid. More of a debris field than a wreck, Travers thought.

                “Got the trajectory figured out? Where we hitting first. I got no data on my screen,” Masters said turning off the main thrusters.

                “Finishing up the flight plan, should be coming to your screen now,” Travers said punching a few buttons on the worn keypad.

                “Got it. Moving in with maneuvering thrusters,” Masters said and took the ship in. He brought the nose around to face a decent chunk of the wreckage, about forty meters across. “Get the clamps ready.”

                “They are ready, greased them up like a lunar whore’s asshole last time in port. Sending the clamps away,” Travers said. A loud metallic clunk could be heard from under the ship as the clamps reached out to the debris.

                “What does the readout say? It looks like this part is intact. You want to do an EVA?” Masters asked swiveling in his captain’s chair.

                “It shows a pressurized cabin. Not breathable air though. Also…this is weird. It’s missing the markings,” Travers said.

                “No RF?”

                “Nothing, its dead. Not even the hull reflectors. I don’t think this ship is one of ours,” Travers said.

                “Like not one of the ESRC’s?”

                “Like not one of ours as in human.”

                “That’s impossible, we colonized the solar system two hundred years ago to rape it’s resources and never found any evidence of aliens. If they do exist, they sure don’t come to this neighborhood,” Masters said and reached into a locker, pulling out a laser pistol.

                “If you truly believe that, then why the gun?” Travers asked, standing up and grabbing his own sidearm and his utility knife.

                “Can’t be too careful. Let’s see what we can find before the ESRC shows up and ruins our fun.

                They headed to the airlock to jump to the strange wreckage the ship was clamped on too. The large cables allowed them the shimmy their way aboard easily. It took longer to locate an entrance than it did to make the journey from one ship to another in the cold silent void.

                “Captain, looks like this here is a hatch,” Travers said over the radio. His voice sounded tinny and distant in the discount communicators they picked up. In reality he was only about fifteen meters away, on the other side of the wreckage. Masters, gave up his search and headed over.

                “Going inside to check it out,” Travers said again.

                “Wait for me. Captain’s orders,” Masters said using the corner of the ship to propel him along it’s broken hull.

                “Sor…break…up…can’t…. he…. you,” Came Travers’ response.

                “Don’t give me that bullshit. I ain’t falling for that again,” Masters replied. He rounded the hull just in time to see Travers disappear inside. “Son of a bitch!”

                “Hey Cap. Looks like they have some short people on this thing. The halls are only three feet tall,” Travers said over the intercom.

                “Wait for me,” Masters replied, entering the strange ship. “See any markings yet?”

                “No markings, you think it predates the embedded RF emitters?” Travers asked.

                “No idea. It doesn’t look like those vintage shuttles we have seen in the museum back on earth. It’s the wrong metal. What the composite here?”

                “Hold on, I will get my scanner out. Had it tucked away in my pocket. If it floated off, I don’t think you can afford to replace it. It would be gone faster than my dad when he found out my mom was pregnant,” Travers joked.

                “You live with yourself; can you blame him?” Masters quipped and caught up to his mechanic.

                “No sir, I cannot. Weird. It’s not reading the majority of the metal. Like there are traces of some kind of titanium alloy, but can’t tell what it is combined with,” Travers said, striking the device on his palm in an attempt to make it work.

                “Easy with that thing. I like it better than I like you,” Masters responded and took it from him. “Check out what’s down there,” he pointed down the short dark hall then ended in a round hatch.

                Travers went off, his helmet light guiding him as he made his way down the corridor. Masters tweaked the knobs on the device and pointed it towards the hull. It was showing traces of gold. Which didn’t make sense since it was a soft material. It is a good conductor though, he thought, and worth a bit of money. He grabbed the small pry bar from his belt and began to remove the panel by the hatch to see if he could find the gold. It would be too damn impractical to bring the whole cabin back to the salvage yards. Besides, someone was bound to see them hauling such a large chunk and begin to ask questions. Questions he would rather not answer.

                The panel slid off rather easily, floating away gently in the low gravity. Masters peered inside at the panel, his headlamp shining off the inside panel. He smiled.

                “Travers, you’re never going to believe this. The inside hull is lined with gold. There has to be a ton of gold easy. We are rich. even if we can take a fifth of it, we could retire. Was there a good place to stash the wreck? I would like to make more than one trip. Maybe hire a couple of guys to come with plasma torches and cut it up for us…” Masters lifted his head and listened. The only sound he heard was his own breathing.

                “Travers, what have you gotten your self into now?” he said into the intercom.  There was no response from his mechanic.

                “Travers, quit pullin’ your pud and answer me, damnit!”

                After a few seconds Masters headed down the wreck’s hall after Travers. There was no sign of him in the hall, but the hatch at the other end was open. He had to have gone that way, Masters thought. A few seconds later and he would know. He hesitated at the hatch that led deeper into the cabin. He found his hand instinctively on the pistol on his hip.  

                He used the hatch to pull himself into the room. It was about 6 meters long. At the far end was Travers floating on his back, his headlamp aimed at the ceiling.

                “It’s no time for a nap Travers,” Masters said and pushed off the wall towards Travers. The creaking of the hull the only sound, besides his own breathing. He reached his mechanic and turned him in his arms to see into the helmet. Travers eyes were closed.

                “Wake up asshole,” Masters said and shook him. He saw the condensation on the inside of the helmet and knew he was still alive. It took a few seconds before Travers opened his eyes weakly.

                “Masters, what happened?” the mechanic asked.

                “Wait. You don’t know? I just found you here sleeping on the job,” Masters explained. “Can you move?”

                “Yeah I think so,” Travers said and winced as he moved his arm. “Feels like I got stabbed in the back by a harlot’s stiletto on Io.”

                “You lead an interesting life, Travers. Let’s take a look,” Masters said and lifted his partner’s arm slowly. He stopped when the mechanic winced.

                “See anything?” Travers asked through the intercom.

                “Your glove display is crushed. Did you bang it on something? Get it caught in the hatch?” Masters asked.

                “I don’t remember getting this hatch open” Travers said nodding to the hatch next to him that led deeper into the cabins that were left intact.

                “Can’t be much in there, we are almost out of ship. Let’s check it out and start getting this gold aboard. You got the Salv-sac?” Masters asked.

                “Yeah, clipped to my belt as always,” Travers said and tried to grab it. He screamed out in pain when he gripped the loop to release it from his belt.

                “I got it,” Masters said and unclipped it. “See what’s back there while I start loading in some of those gold lined panels.”

                “Probably more ship back there,” Travers said as a joke.

                “Well at least your sense of humor is still good. I was worried,” Masters said and headed back to the gold panel he loosened earlier with the Salv-sac in tow. A few minutes passed while he worked on loading gold panels into the sac before he heard from his partner.

                “Masters? I found some writing on the wall in here,” Travers’s voice came over the intercom.

                “A control panel? Is it functional?” Masters asked?

                “No, not on a panel. On the wall. It’s smeared on the wall. Like someone used their finger to draw in… Is that dried blood?” Travers’ voice cut out.

                Masters sighed. “I am guessing it’s in an alien language. You said this ship wasn’t a human design, right?”

                “Well it’s in English actually, but yeah this ship is definitely not a human design. I can say that with one hundred percent positive. Like a Venus colony prostitute testing for herpes,” Travers explained.

                “What a way with words. How can you be so sure?”

                “I am looking at him. It. Whatever.”

                “You found a corpse?” Masters asked.

                “Um not exactly. It’s a future corpse if it comes near me,” Travers said. In the tinny intercom Masters heard a strange sound.

                “Be right there,” Masters said and anchored the Salv-sac to the ship’s hatch via the magnetic strip that lined the top. “And for fuck’s sake, don’t do anything stupid.”

                It took Masters twenty-three seconds to make it to the hatch that Travers had gone into to explore. A lot can happen in twenty-three seconds. About halfway through the cabin he heard Travers scream. The sound distorted in the cheap intercom. Then there was thirteen seconds of silence. Travers wasn’t answering him now. With a tug he swung the hatch open as fast as he could. His head lamp flooded the bay in front of him.

                “What the fuck is that?” Masters said and grabbed his sidearm. He fired off a shot at the thing that had Travers wrapped in a tentacle. It had eight of them writhing, clinging to the little handles they found all around the ship. The blast from the laser pistol burned into the soft flesh of the thing.

                “Let my mechanic go, you…you…space octopus!” Masters said and fired a few more shots into the center mass of the thing. It screeched.

                It lifted Travers up above its body, a face mostly a beak and a large eye, floated to the surface of its skin right below Travers. It dropped him into its maw swallowing Travers whole. Masters swore he saw the thing smile.

                “NOOO! FUCK!” Masters screamed and fired into the gelatinous body. He ran up in a brief moment of brave idiocy and tried to pry its mouth open. The creature used its free tentacles to knock him away.

                It turned its big eye and focused on him across the room. He looked for his pistol that was knocked free when the creature swatted him.

                “Masters, you there?” Travers’ voice came over the intercom.

                “Travers! Your alive?” Masters said locating his pistol a few feet away.

                “Yeah, it burns like gonorrhea on Venus in here!”

                “It’s got to be its digestive juices getting though your suit. Can you see a way out? Head…up?” Masters said looking at where the mouth was currently oriented.

                “I don’t know which way is up. Just going to pick a direction,” Travers said between pained breaths.

                “Hang in there, buddy” Masters said and grabbed his gun. He fired into its mouth, hoping to make it puke up his friend. The second blast gave him the desired effect. With a heave, his mechanic shot out of the creature’s mouth in a wave of stomach acid into the zero gravity environment. The smell was so bad Travers’ got a whiff of it through the suit. He almost added his own special blend.

                The creature fell back against the wall of the ship retching, giving Masters time to check on his friend. He pulled his floating companion to him, flipping him face up. He let out a sigh at the blank stare of Travers. His friend was gone.

                “You motherfucker!” he yelled out and grabbed the pistol of his hand. He started firing with both laser pistols at the vomiting, tentacled menace. The laser blasts sunk into its gelatinous form, causing the monster to turn its attention to him. It launched its self at him, pushing off the walls with two of its flailing appendages.

                Masters pushed Travers’ body in the path of the creature and grabbed a handle, pulling himself into the hallway behind him. He made it several feet before he felt the monster grab his leg. With a twisting motion he sat up and fired shots into the tentacle. It released him, but not before his momentum carried him back into the room. He scrambled for a hand hold, but couldn’t find one. He propelled past the monster into the floating ball of alien vomit and into the back wall.

                He wiped the alien puke from his visor. It stuck to his glove like uncooked scrambled eggs. He flicked his wrist sending a good portion of it in a trajectory towards the ceiling. A slight hiss near his left ear gave him a pause. The digestive fluid was beginning to eat through his suit too. He had to get back to his ship or he was as good as dead. There were two obstacles to his goal though. The creature, which he feared a little, and that floating glob of vomit. It reminded him of a bait ball on the nature videos he saw of ocean predators back on earth. Maybe he should just fire the pistol into his helmet, he thought.

                He closed his eyes and shook his head. He would have to pass through that to get out of here. He wished he had his torch, he would just cut a hole in the ship here to escape. He took two deep breaths and pulled himself as close to the wall as he could, legs ready to spring forth and hopefully past the monster who couldn’t find him behind the vomit.  

                A stray tentacle whipped through the vomit glob but missed him as he passed through the still warm stomach acid. Once through the other side, he wiped the visor clean again and noticed he was on a collision course with his friend’s killer. He fired into the alien’s body with everything he had as he neared its fleshy body.

                He crashed into its mass and bounced off, heading into the wall. He slammed his shoulder and head into the metal door jam. His visor cracked and the hissing got louder. He only had seconds before his oxygen would run out.

                He maneuvered around the alien and pulled himself down the hall, dropping one of the pistols in the process. He only had a few yards to go. He could see the Salv-sac waiting for him at the hatch.

                “Don’t leave me,” came Travers’ voice. Masters’ blood went cold. He turned around and gave a look back into the ship. The alien was in the doorway into the vomitorium, for lack of a better term. Its large eye narrowed and it opened its mouth.

                “Don’t leave me alone on this ship. We were friends, Scott. Friends wouldn’t do that to each other,” came Travers’ voice from the monsters gaping maw. A darkly humorous thought crossed his mind. He always told Travers he had a big mouth, now his voice was coming from that thing. It made him laugh in a moment of insanity.

                “Fuck off, you ventriloquist space octopus vomit machine!” Masters yelled out and fired again at the monster as he slowly floated towards the entrance. He felt his back hit the Salv-sac. He grabbed on tight and activated its booster. The small rocket pulled him out of the ship and back towards his own. There was no sign of the monster following him.

                A few seconds later he was entering the hatch on his own ship, gasping for air. His face was numb from the cold of the void seeping in the ruined suit. He closed the hatch and pulled the cracked and broken helmet off of his head.

                Masters ran to the cockpit and fired up the engines. It was a little tricky to do with only one set of hands, but he managed to get the ship moving. He released the clamp holding the two ships together and turned the nose of the ship towards the wreckage. With a quick firing of the maneuvering thrusters he started to back away. Every meter of distance he gained he felt his heart beat drop in sync.  There was no sign of any activity there. The hatch was a dark hole on the side of the vessel.  

                He let out a long breath and started to work his way out of the suit when his eyes fell on the Salv-sac. There was gold in there. A lot of gold. A smile crossed his face with thoughts of all the things that gold could buy. He could finally retire. Finally, be done with space salvage. He reached under the console and grabbed a bottle of whiskey he had been saving. He poured two glasses.

                “Here’s to you, Travers. I won’t forget the best mechanic I have ever worked with, and he downed one glass. “And here’s to me. The richest salvage pilot in the solar system.” With the second glass gone, he stared out the cockpit at the strange ship they found. His blood turned cold at the sight in front of him and he wished he had put some weapons on this ship.

                The creature was maneuvering over the ship’s hull using the suckers on its tentacles for purchase, and a second one came over the top. Wait, he thought, that isn’t a second creature. He dropped the glass in his hand as he saw his friend reach the end of the ship. Travers’ torso was now sporting two new appendages. With a mighty push, both creatures shot towards him.

                Masters panicked and scrambled to get the ship moving away, but he wasn’t fast enough. The creatures attached themselves to the nose of his ship. He looked at his once friend’s face. Now it was transforming. It was turning into one of those things. “No, no, no!” he yelled in a panic.

                “Masters. Open the hatch. Let me in,” his friends voice came over the intercom. “Let us in, partner. We salvage too. We scavenge for genetic material to blend with. Like our ancestors that lived in your oceans,” the voice came again.

                “I can’t deal with that much vomit again!” Masters said and threw the ships engines to max. “This has to end now.” He started to laugh as the other ship grew larger and larger. It was too late to stop it now. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and held it out for his friend to see. “I do this for you!”

                Just then the ship collided with the alien ship. The impact sent the alien Travers spinning off into space. He couldn’t see the other creature, but could hear it on the hull of his ship. He reached down and closed the engine ports. He watched the temperatures rise, knowing in under a minute, they would reach critical mass and explode, taking that tentacled fuck with it. He downed the bottle and sat back, accepting his fate.

Unidentified vessel, this is ESRC patrol ship Ares. This wreckage is off limits. You must leave the area immediately.

Masters couldn’t believe his luck. They had the firepower to blast that alien back to whatever star system it came from. He reached for the console and tried to vent the engine ports, but time wasn’t on his side. He only had seconds before the whole thing would be a fireball. He looked at the sad shape his EVA suit was in and knew he couldn’t survive long enough to get to their ship. Then he noticed the Salv-sac. It closes up airtight. He could use it to jump from ship to ship. He quickly radioed over to the ESRC ship.

“Have to make an emergency escape from aliens. Pick up Salv-sac. I repeat, pick up Salv-sac,” he said into the radio.

Can you repeat? Over.

“Escaping aliens in Salv- sac. Please pick it up. I won’t have long,” he said into the mic and punched the console. Damnit Travers, why couldn’t you fix the radio right,” he yelled out in frustration and ran to the hatch, pulling the Salv-sac of gold behind him. He climbed inside and set the airlock hatch to blow in 5 seconds on the port side facing the ESRC ship. He hoped they got his message.

Captain Hugh Dressan watched as the hatch blew on the crappy old ship that had collided with the strange wreckage they were sent to investigate. The garbled message was hard to make out. “What was that, Ensign?” the Captain asked.

“Escaping aliens in Salv-sac, then it cut out for a second and came back with “up. I won’t have long, sir,” the ensign repeated.

“We knew this wasn’t human designed. Sounds like the Salv-sac heading this way has escaping aliens in it and whomever is on that ship is just about out of time. Open fire on the sac and grapple that ship,” the captain ordered.

Even though Masters escaped the doomed ship and seemingly beat the odds, he blew up at the same time it did. A simple message misunderstanding brought on by the crappy intercom he saved forty credits on caused his death in space surrounded by 3 million credits worth of salvaged gold.

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