You know, Despite the sterile vibe, the burger hit like it was cooked planetside by someone who gave a damn. the kind that knows just how to nurse that high cost of low living.
I took the last bite, savoring it like it might be my last decent meal for a while, then crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it into the red plastic basket. Only a few stray fries and a greasy brown stain where a glob of barbecue sauce had remained.
With nothing left to distract me, my eyes started wandering, taking in the massive arrays of equipment scattered across the lab. A jungle of wires, glowing containment fields, and tubes spider-webbed across the space.
That’s when my gaze landed on the metal skeleton again, the one that had caught my eye earlier. It sat lifeless on the ground, clutching a box of miscellaneous components like a kid holding their toys. What the hell was this supposed to be? Robo-butler? Prosthetic prototype? Pleasure bot? I shook my head, trying not to let my imagination run too wild, and moved on.
On the other side of the lab, something under a tarp caught my attention. A faint green glow seeped from beneath the fabric, illuminating a tangled mess of tubes and wiring sticking out from the edges. Every ten seconds or so, I heard an audible bubbling sound.
I froze. My knees started to tremble, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. What the fuck could be under that tarp?
I took a hesitant step closer, my curiosity buzzing like static in my head. They didn’t say “don’t look under the tarp,” did they? And before I even realized it, my hand was already gripping the edge of the fabric. My body had apparently decided what to do long before my brain caught up.
Fuck it.
I yanked the tarp back in one quick motion, revealing…
A child.
The kid couldn’t have been older than eight or nine, floating in a green solution inside a massive tube. Brown hair swayed gently in the viscous fluid, and a VirtuMatrix headset was strapped over their face, complete with a breathing apparatus and a feeding tube snaking into their stomach.
I recoiled, the sight hitting me like a punch to the chest.
“What the FUCK?!” I screamed, stumbling backward. My hands scrambled for something to steady myself, but instead, I collided directly into Elaine, who had apparently been standing behind me the whole time.
I screamed again, startled for the second time in less than ten seconds. “Dammit, Elaine!” I snapped, pointing at the tube. “What the fuck is that?!”
Elaine’s expression didn’t so much as twitch. She leaned in close, her voice low and deadly serious.
“Spare parts.”
My stomach dropped.
For one horrifying moment, I thought I’d stumbled into some dark, dystopian nightmare lab where they grew kids in vats to harvest their organs. My mouth opened, but no words came out, the sheer audacity of what she’d just said short-circuiting my brain.
And then Elaine started laughing.
No, scratch that, she cackled. Full-on, doubled-over, tears-streaming-down-her-face hysterics. “Oh my god!” she wheezed, pointing at me like I was the punchline to her joke. “You should’ve seen the look on your face!”
I sighed, scrubbing my hands down my face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Elaine.” My heart was still racing as I shook my head, trying to ignore the fact that she’d just shaved about five years off my life.
She wiped her eyes, still giggling. “Worth it.”
“Well, now that you’ve satisfied your twisted sense of humor,” I said, still trying to regain the color in my face, “can you tell me why there’s a child floating fetal-like in a tube?”
Elaine grabbed one of the red burger baskets that had been sent up, plucking out the burger by the wrapper before taking a massive bite. “Mmmph. I’ll never get over how good these burgers are out here in the void,” she mumbled mid-chew.
I sighed, shaking my head. “You need media training. That is the worst dodge I’ve ever seen.”
Elaine just smirked and took another bite, while I turned my attention back to the kid in the tank. With my arms firmly clasped behind my back (because my high ass didn’t trust me not to touch anything), I leaned in for a closer look. The faint glow of the VirtuMatrix screen next to the tank caught my eye, displaying a simulation of a classroom. The kid was learning algebra, guided by a digital teacher.
Elaine, finally relenting, nodded toward the tank. “You’re looking at the next generation of the Bradford bloodline.”
I arched a brow. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s Everett Bradford,” she explained, her tone casual as if we weren’t talking about a kid floating in a tube. “One of many clones of Isaac Bradford Sr. They’re undergoing an educational simulation while they ‘cook,’ as Delia likes to put it.”
“Wait wait wait, so every generation of the Bradford family is just… a clone of the original?”
“Since the 1970s.”
I stared at the kid, trying to spot any features that screamed “Bradford.” “Then why’s the kid brunette? Delia’s blonde.”
Elaine shrugged. “Donor DNA samples are mixed in during insemination to avoid defects. Pure cloning leads to issues similar to inbreeding, so they tweak the process a bit. That’s why Everett has brown hair.”
That actually made sense. If it didn’t work out for ol’ Bubba out on Smoky Reach, it wasn’t going to work here in Barnard’s Loop. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of awe and unease. Bradford had essentially achieved immortality, albeit a different kind than Ollie’s vampiric variety.
Elaine had made herself comfortable at the holopit, where my glasses still rested. She kicked her heavy platform Demonia boots up onto the edge of the console, the burger basket balanced in her lap. Her entire vibe screamed regular at Schalken’s Lantern back in Bay City:, a Sisters of Mercy tee, and enough silver jewelry to set off every metal detector in the sector. Her eyeliner wings were sharp enough to pierce hearts, blackened or otherwise.
Her freakish cat jumped onto the couch circling the holopit and curled up beside her, seemingly losing interest in watching me for the first time all day.
Finally, I saw my chance to ask. “Alright, let’s get down to brass tacks. What’s with the fuckin’ cat?”
Elaine wiped her mouth with a napkin, set the basket aside, and gave the cat gentle head scratches. She purred contentedly, her glowing green eyes narrowing into slits.
“This is Andromeda,” Elaine began. “A living prototype, a fully automaton cat that serves as both my familiar and my service animal.”
I blinked. “You need a service animal? But you seem so-”
“Independent?” she cut in, arching a brow.
“Well, yeah,” I admitted, scratching the back of my head.
She smiled faintly. “I worked hard to make it so.”
“How’d you do that?”
Elaine leaned back, crossing her arms. “Since you asked… I was born with a heart condition. Only 25% of a heart, to be precise. And because I’m a Starchild, I had to rely on human donor transplants. Spent most of my childhood hooked up to an IV.”
My stomach twisted. A quarter of a heart? I couldn't imagine growing up tied to machines like that. “Why didn’t they get you a Starchild heart?” I asked, frowning.
“Because I was born when Starchildren barely started appearing,” she replied matter-of-factly. “There were no donors. And given our longer lifespans, there won’t be many for quite a while.”
She picked at a fry as she continued. “When Delia was making her rounds at the iNNoTec Experimental Medicine Center in Jezero, Mars, she met me as a kid. “I was a regular in the ICU, wired up like a prototype starship. and she pitched micro-fusion tech as a fix. I told her it sounded like a good way to get vaporized.”
Elaine chuckled, her voice softening. “Bradford saw something in me—smarts, sass, or just pity, I’m still not sure. We built the smallest Domiculus engine in the galaxy and jacked it straight into my chest, but it came with limits. All my casting juice? It keeps my damn heart beating. So yeah—stress, emotions, hell, even caffeine? They all steal fuel from my magic. I’m still standing, but I’ve got to ration every spark. That’s why I’m a D.A.A. Agent. These anomalies we investigate? I’m not just cataloging them for the organization. I’m searching for solutions, for me, and for hundreds of thousands more who are trapped by similar setbacks.”
“Damn,” I said finally. “You gave your limitations the finger and turned them into fuel.”
Elaine smirked, leaning back and scratching Andromeda’s chin. “Something like that.”
I nodded, grabbing the can of Puente’s Guava Cola off the table and popping it open. “So when did your work come into play in all that? Clearly, designing Domiculus engines using methods the Strexians could only dream of wasn’t enough for you. You’ve got a knack for poking at the abnormal and abstract in a universe that’s already both of those things by default.”
Elaine gave me a cheeky smile as she swallowed the fry she’d just shoved in her mouth. “Who doesn’t love a good mystery? Despite the weapon usually on my hip and my casting abilities, I’m a scientist first and foremost. If Delia’s taught me anything, it’s that the key to discovery is research and analysis.”
I just sipped my cola, taking in her words. I’d met plenty of people who called themselves self-made, but Elaine took that to a whole new level. She didn’t just break free of her limitations, she turned them into the tools she needed to thrive. Standing next to her, it was hard not to feel like I’d been coasting by comparison.
“So, you were also a ward of the state?” Elaine asked, sitting back down and casually dipping a fry in ranch like we weren’t about to wade into emotionally murky waters.
I sighed, knowing I’d set myself up for this back in the corridor when I mentioned my foster mom. “Sure was. I was in foster care from eight to eighteen.”
Elaine leaned forward, curiosity lighting up her face. “So you actually remember your birth parents?”
I froze, my thumb running idly over the condensation on my can of cola. A sound flickered in the back of my mind, someone pounding furiously on a door, the thud of fists echoing like thunder. My breath hitched, but just as quickly as it came, the memory fizzled out, leaving only silence.
“I do…” I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended. I patted my jacket out of habit, searching for my flask. Nothing. Right. I’d left it back on Gonzo. Fuck.
Elaine scratched the back of her head, breaking the tension without even realizing it. “I don’t remember mine, unfortunately. I’m told they were Earthbound hippies who lived in northern Arizona.”
“Do you hold any resentment toward them? For giving you up?” I asked, leaning back on the couch. My voice was casual, but inside, I felt a flicker of envy at Elaine’s lack of memories.
Elaine shook her head firmly. “According to Delia, my parents gave me up to the state to make sure I’d get the care I needed. Wards of the state get free healthcare by law. My folks could barely afford the payments on their leased starship, let alone multiple heart transplants. I don’t blame them. And who knows? Maybe one day we’ll meet again. What about you, Tracy?”
“What about me?” I shot back, feigning obliviousness.
Elaine tilted her head, her expression open and curious. “What were your parents like?”
Her question echoed in my head, bouncing around like a stray bullet. That same innocent curiosity was in her eyes, not realizing she was inches away from blowing open a whole can of worms with that pistol on her hip.
“Well,” I began, pulling out my brightest, most deflective grin, “my foster mom was one tough cookie, let me tell you. That woman spent her whole life raising generations of orphaned kids and turning them into decent people. And she did it all in the Counterculture Capital of the galaxy, crammed into a six-bedroom townhome with eight other people. No easy task, especially if you know the Commonwealth Foster Care System and their ‘faults’ as well as I do.”
Elaine nodded, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Yep, she definitely knew those faults.
But then she arched a brow, clearly catching on to my sidestep. “No, I meant your bio-”
“Holy fuck, that woman could cook!” I cut her off, leaning back like I hadn’t just sprinted past her question. “That pot roast I mentioned earlier? It lives in my dreams. She used to get lab-grown beef, the old kind, before they figured out how to synthesize fat properly. She had this method passed down from her family. Supposedly, they ran a Chinese takeout place on Earth back before the Great Exodus. She’d use this technique called velveting to make the meat perfectly tender and juicy.”
“That pot roast again, huh?” Elaine said with a smirk.
“What can I say? It’s my favorite comfort deflection and food.” I grinned. “Velveting and illegal Vaccho tallow. You heard this monologue before.”
Elaine leaned back slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Delia hardly ever cooks. I grew up eating stuff from the company commissary, or we’d go out to eat. Had some great meals together over the years. She showed me the whole galaxy without ever leaving Bay City.”
I couldn’t help but think about the massive differences between our upbringings, despite the fact that we were both orphans. Elaine grew up surrounded by innovation, wealth, and opportunity. Meanwhile, I grew up on Titan’s South Side, scraping by with a single foster mom who worked her ass off to keep a house full of kids on the straight and narrow. And Bay City? You could live there your whole life, eat out every night, and still never run out of places to try. That kind of endless variety was a luxury I’d never known as a kid.
We emerged from the lab into the dimly lit Flight Simulation Deck. The air felt cooler here, and the glow of holomatrix cockpits cast shifting light across the room. Ollie was perched in one of the pilot’s seats, surrounded by a holographic display. A digital flight instructor floated nearby, observing as Ollie wove his simulated cargo hauler through glowing rings to practice maneuvering.
Ollie groaned in frustration, his Scottish accent thicker than usual. “Oi! You said this cargo-haulin’ gig would involve fighting pirates in deep space! When do I get to learn to pop their claws open and chow down on them like a starving lad at a Cajun restaurant?”
The instructor flickered for a moment, its ever-present grin unwavering. “Now, Ollie, learning to safely maneuver a cargo hauler through space is just as important as combat. However…” the hologram’s tone took on a hint of amusement, “the rules of engagement within Autonomous Frontier Space are part of the next lesson, titled ‘With Extreme Prejudice.’”
Ollie’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “That’s what I’m fookin’ talking about~!” he crowed, throwing himself into the controls with renewed vigor. The simulated hauler zipped through the rings with ease, his devilish grin growing wider with each successful pass. The instructor gave an approving nod.
With everything officially taken care of, I figured this was my cue to make my exit. Time to get the fuck out of here and finally get back on track. The casino wasn’t going to find itself, and now that I’d made it halfway there, I wasn’t about to stick around any longer than I had to.
As I turned to leave, I nearly ran face-first into Delia, who was suddenly standing right behind me.
“GAH!” I yelped, startled out of my skin.
Delia, equally surprised, let out a startled scream of her own, jumping back like I’d just set off a firecracker.
For a second, we just stared at each other, wide-eyed. Then, as if on cue, she burst into laughter, doubling over as if the whole thing was the funniest thing she’d ever experienced.
“Good fuck!” I gasped, clutching my chest. “I see where Elaine gets it from!”
Delia, still laughing, wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I—ha!-I didn’t mean to sneak up on you!” Her shoulders twitched with another bout of giggles, her nervous energy bleeding out into the moment. It wasn’t hard to see that being jumpy was just part of her makeup.
Behind her, a holopit displayed a live representation of Gonzo in the hangar, its parts being swapped out and refurbished. My curiosity quickly shifted gears. “What you got going on over here, Delia?”
I walked over to the pit and leaned in, watching the projection. Gonzo sat in the hangar, surrounded by a swarm of mechanics. Panels lit up as systems came online, and I could see parts being swapped in and out like pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle.
Delia followed, still smoothing out the last of her giggles. “You mentioned you were heading to the Edge of Existence,” she said, her voice settling into its usual tone. “When I saw the state of your ship’s engine room, I didn’t think it would make it to Icarus, much less the apparent edge of the known universe.”
There was no judgment in her tone, but it still stung a little. I hadn’t realized Gonzo’s condition was that bad.
Still, the display in front of me was proof enough. Delia seemed to be personally overseeing the operation, orchestrating it all from the holopit like a symphony conductor. I was a little taken aback by her generosity. When something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Someone had told me that once. I just wish I could remember who.
“So,” I said, clutching my optics in my hands, my instincts already sounding the alarm, “I suspect there’s something you want in return for all these upgrades?”
Delia gave me a warm smile, the kind of smile that could put even the most suspicious person at ease. “I’m curious about what you may find at the ‘Edge of Existence.’ You can imagine my surprise when I reviewed Phillip’s math and realized he might actually be right. So here’s my offer: I’ll provide you with my assistance and the resources of iNNoTec to help you on your journey. In return, I’d like your findings, scientific readings, observations, and whatever else you uncover in that part of the universe.”
Her tone was casual, but her words were precise, almost rehearsed.
I exhaled, loosening my grip on my optics. Elaine, lingering in the background, chuckled softly at how protective I was being. Delia’s offer made sense—it was a fair trade, all things considered.
“That sounds reasonable,” I admitted, sliding my glasses back onto my face. “Alright, I’m game~!” I said, clapping my hands together for emphasis.
“Fantastic!” Delia gleamed, her excitement lighting up the room as she led the way toward the hangar.
Before I could follow, Ollie’s voice echoed across the deck. “Oi! Lawrence!”
I turned, smirking as I called back, “What’s up, McDracula?”
His expression soured instantly. “Call me McDracula again, and like my vampiric forefather, I’ll put your head on a pike.”
“Ya know, I’ll keep that in mind.” I replied, suppressing a laugh.
His tone shifted, softening as he added, “But besides all that, don’t stay a stranger, lass. Go and be the badass I know you to be.”
I chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Thanks, Ollie. It was fun. I’ll catch you around.”
As I followed Delia and Elaine into the hangar, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Gonzo sat on the main repair bay platform, and I almost didn’t recognize her. Every panel gleamed, freshly polished, and the mechanics had clearly gone full F.M. League pitstop crew while I was scarfing down lunch.
A pile of worn-out parts sat discarded in the scrap recycler, the remnants of what had once kept Gonzo running by sheer force of will. A mechanic in a welders’s apron stood by the ship’s nosecone, carefully unscrewing the old model plate that read Nebula Surfer. The plate fell to the ground with a loud clank, and in its place, the mechanic installed a new one:
“C.S.S. Gonzo”
Cosmo Surfer ‘99
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath, staring at the upgrade. They’d improved Gonzo so much they legally had to change the model name.
For the first time in a while, I felt a flicker of confidence that this journey might actually be possible.
As the mechanics closed up the last panels on Gonzo, a cheerful jingle played over the intercom. Some of them pulled out lunch bags and headed for the lifts, likely bound for the diner on Deck 83. Others shuffled toward break rooms, chatting about their day like they hadn’t just overhauled a starship bound for the literal edge of existence.
Gonzo’s cargo bay door opened with a pneumatic hiss, gleaming like it had been freshly polished. I turned to my two unlikely allies, Delia and Elaine, standing side by side.
“Well,” I said, gesturing to the sparkling ship, “this entire interaction went nothing like I expected, but I’m glad it happened nonetheless.”
Delia tilted her head, curious as ever. “Oh? And how did you see this going?”
I laughed, realizing just how little I’d thought that far ahead. “Now that I think about it, I have no idea how I expected this to go.”
Elaine rolled her eyes, but I caught the faint smile tugging at her lips, the kind that felt a little too warm for someone who just found me mildly amusing. She stepped closer, surprising me with a sudden hug. Not gonna lie—it caught me off guard, but I returned it after a beat.
When she let go, she lingered for half a second longer than I expected before waving me off with a grin. “I’ll be checking in from time to time. Supplies, assistance—whatever you need. Just let me know, Tracy.” Her voice was light, but that playful wink she threw in at the end felt… different.
I laughed, brushing it off. “Man, if you’d told me earlier that you’d be hugging me and acting all friendly by the end of the day, the me from a few hours ago would’ve laughed in your face.”
Elaine shrugged, still smiling. “Things change.”
As Gonzo’s cargo ramp lowered, now much quieter, without the screech of tortured gears—I walked up, glancing back at the two of them one last time. “Welp, I’ll see you two around. To the Edge of Existence!” I called out as the ramp began to rise.
“Safe travels!” Delia shouted, her voice just making it through the closing door.
Elaine stayed quiet, watching me as the ramp sealed shut.
The moment I stepped into the lounge, I noticed the difference. Everything had been replaced, repaired, or refurbished. Thankfully, they hadn’t touched my special panels. If they’d made Gonzo look all corporate and sleek like the iNNoTec ships in the hangar, I’d have been pissed.
“Webster~!” I called out, ready to get moving.
A chime I’d never heard before rang out, smoother than the old one, and a voice responded. “Hello and welcome to WebsterOS ’99. Would you like to restore your previous Webster’s memory from the backup drive, or are we starting fresh today?”
I froze. I could start fresh. A clean slate. No more dealing with a logic-circuit dumber than a bucket of bolts.
“Fresh,” I said without hesitation. “You can shove the old one deep into that drive. Just back up my personal info from the data center in the engine room.”
The voice responded smoothly, almost warmly. “Hello, Tracy Lawrence. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and I look forward to working alongside you. What would you like to refer to me as so that I may better assist you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I can name you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the voice replied. “In this revision, I’ve been given the ability to have my name changed by authorized users.”
I smirked. “About damn time. It’s exhausting explaining to non-human colleagues that Gonzo and Webster are the same thing. Your new name is now Gonzo, to avoid confusion.”
“Very good, ma’am. I will now only respond to Gonzo,” the Logic-circutreplied, its tone so formal and Geeves-like it made me cringe. I pulled up the coordinates for the starting point of Phillip’s star map, Beldasia-Omega—a three-day journey from here.
“Gonzo, go ahead and follow the safety route out of the system sent in by-” Before I could finish, the ship was already taking off, making the intricate safety waltz through Barnard’s Loop with a speed and precision Webster could only dream of.
“You’re a real one, Gonzo,” I said, moseying my way to my lounge as the ship hummed smoothly beneath me.
The folks at iNNoTec had been far nicer than I’d expected. Especially Delia Bradford. Unlike most founders and CEOs of tech companies, she genuinely seemed to care about humanity’s advancement. Hell, she didn’t even trust the future of iNNoTec to potential shareholders. Bradford would probably rather let the company die with her than risk it falling into the wrong hands.
Makes sense, though. Back in the early 1970s, the entire company became stateless, retreating to their man-made island, Point Nemo Campus, after the U.S. Government demanded they hand over their advanced tech for military use. The Feds wanted it for fighting “the commies,” or whatever buzzword the military brass were throwing around back then.
Instead of giving in, iNNoTec went rogue. They stayed afloat selling non-combative tech to the rest of the world until 1984, when Reagan lost to Walter Mondale, who lifted the sanctions. Bradford’s company played by its own rules, and honestly, I respected the hell out of that.
Settling into the lounge, I plopped onto the cushions and looked over the now fully upgraded holopit. For once, it wasn’t makeshift. The display lit up in full spectral color as I prepared to dive in.
“Okay,” I said to myself, leaning forward. “Pull up everything in the database on the casino. D.A.A. records included.”
Files flooded the display—six case files, all eerily similar.
Every single one of them started the same way: work dries up, hard times hit, and they’ve got nothing to their name but a starship. Each person sets out, chasing riches and salvation at the Casino at the Edge of Existence.
And then? Months of silence.
When they finally returned, their ships were in various states of repair—some damaged, others practically destroyed. One poor bastard came back dead, having jumped straight into their own coolant tank.
But the worst part?
Every single one of them came back absolutely insane.
I stared at the last report, a chill crawling up my spine.
Shit.