Rot ran from the seaweed down Macko’s arm, dripping off his elbow onto steel plates below the perspex tank. His stomach, already aching, turned in revulsion at the stench.

An infection in the bioponic system. That explained the crew’s food poisoning, as well as the shortages of oxygen and clean water. Then there were the overheating engines, hardly surprising on a bodge-job hauler converted from a redundant military tug. If the company wanted to kill the crew, they couldn’t have done better, but that would have meant caring about who lived. Space haulers died from indifference.

Olazi appeared around the corridor. Her face was pale but her steps jaunty, shoulders lifting for the first time in years.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Ship’s sick. We’ll need to change course, ask to put in for repairs at Summerstop Station.”

“Thank fuck.” Olazi grinned. “Sorry to say it, but I’m ditching you there. I’m done serving on this tin can of oil and farts, nothing to see but that…”

She waved at one of the thick portholes, a view entirely filled with the black of space.

“What about your debts to the company?”

“If they think they can turn a profit off these organs, they’re welcome to hunt me down, but I can’t take another month of his.”

Macko winced at Olazi’s deep, contented sigh. Even if he could afford to think like that, if the thought of bailiffs and penury didn’t fill him with terror, this wasn’t the out his friend thought.

“It’s not going to matter.” He dropped the rotten seaweed and slumped to the ground. “I’ve put in the request, but we won’t make Summerstop.”

“What?” Olazi blinked.

“There’s too much broken, systems cascading into each other.” Macko pressed hands to his face, trying not to cry. He had to hold it together long enough to tell the others first. Jeck paying for his mother’s care on Netten. Omal with his whole family caught in contracts. Macko only had himself to cry for, but they had so much more. “We’re going to die out here.”

“That can’t be right.” Olazi’s voice was sharper.

“I’ve done the maths.” Macko heard the hysteria in his own voice. “It’s over.”

“No no no.” Olazi’s fist clanged against a bulkhead. “This isn’t how it’s meant to work.”

“Meant to…” A tension ran through Macko, lifting his limp limbs and hauling him to his feet. He stared at Olazi, wishing he was wrong. “You did this.”

Olazi looked down at her boots. “I can’t take it any more. Months in the void. Never getting home. Company supplies that cost more than our wages, so we’re always trying to break free of a rigged game.”

“You can’t win if you don’t try.”

“You can’t win if you do.” Olazi glanced at Macko, then away again, thrust her hands into the pockets of her overalls. “I just want to get off.”

Macko flung himself at Olazi. She was stronger than him, but he caught her by surprise, slammed her into the wall and pressed her face against the porthole.

“You wanted off?” he screamed, stabbing a finger against the glass. “That’s the only off we’re getting. Death. You happy now?”

“Better than carrying on like this,” Olazi hissed. “Grinding until our lives are dust smeared across the spaceways.” She sobbed, breath frosting pale against the black. “Better anything than this.”

Macko blinked, then took a step back.

“You’re serious?” he asked, voice trembling.

Olazi gave the smallest nod. She looked so broken, pity crippled Macko’s rage. This was no life, not for him or her or the rest of the crew and the people depending upon them.

Out in the void, a single star slid into view, one tiny point of light.

“You know what damage you did,” he said. “You can undo some of it. Maybe enough to get us to Summerstop.”

Olazi shook her head. “Now you know. You’ll hand me over, or one of the others will. I’ll be trapped forever.”

“Not if we all leave.” It was a mad idea, but now he thought about it, was the alternative any more sane? “You, me, Jeck, Omal. We leave the cargo and take this shitty ship, make ourselves worth so little we’re not worth chasing.”

It wasn’t much of a dream, but it was sweet medicine flowing through his mind, chasing away a fever that had lodged there too long.

“And then?” Olazi looked at him, hesitant but hopeful.

Macko stared out the porthole. The star was distant, a single weak dot of light, but still more vivid than anything around it.

“Then we start living,” he said.

***

If you enjoyed this story and you’d like to read more like it, then you can sign up to my mailing list, where you’ll get a flash story straight to your inbox every month as well as updates on my books. And if you’re looking for something else to read in the meantime…

***

At the age of eighteen, Raul learns that he’s the lost heir to the throne, destined to liberate his people from oppression. But his birthmark was burnt onto him as a baby, his ancient sword is a replica, and the prophecies of his coming are mostly lies. Manipulated by his parents, Raul strives to fulfil a fake destiny even as his world falls apart. He’s going to learn the hard way that the only destiny is the one you make, in a story about lies, family, rebellion, and choosing your own fate.

Get your copy now:

The post Smeared Across the Spaceways – a science fiction short story appeared first on Andrew Knighton Writes.