“We Can’t Find Reverse” • by Iseult Murphy

For an abandoned space station orbiting a dead planet, the place was buzzing.  

I hadn’t seen so many species, augments, cultures and bots in, well, ever. Food stands, stalls selling anything you could imagine, and gaming parlors cloaked every level. Screens and projections every few steps displayed some boring competition stream. It shouldn’t have surprised me that whoever had taken my MICE had brought them here, but I didn’t understand why they’d led me on such a merry dance across the galaxy. 

My MICE—Miniature Individual Cloned Entities—were the cheapest on the market and impossible to code with a new owner’s genetics, so their only value lay in the illegal slave trade or as meat. They wouldn’t be much good for either. They were MEs—Miniature Entities—after all, so they were too small for good eating and as they shared my DNA, they were as ornery and disrespectful as they come. The five of us didn’t get along. 

However, I needed them to run my ship, I’d paid good money for them, and I’d be darned if some thief was going to waltz away with my property without suffering the consequences. 

“They’re right on the other side of this wall.” 

I tapped the smooth metal with the butt of my blaster. The good thing about shady get-togethers at the edge of the galaxy was that you could go in all guns blazing and there were no authorities to stop you. Lots of other angry, well-armed patrons, but no interplanetary law-keepers who could put a black mark on your permanent record. 

“Are you sure you need these MICE? They’re not that expensive. We passed a stall offering one ME per oxygen cube,” Ruby said. 

Ruby didn’t agree with my need to abandon work and chase after a MICE thief. All bots hate confrontation, and even though Ruby had been with me for decades, it was hard to overcome original programming. 

“It’s not just about my MICE, it’s the principle of the thing. I don’t want the universe knowing you can take my stuff and I won’t do anything about it.”

“As you constantly inform me, who cares?”

I rolled my eyes, but Ruby didn’t understand the expression. 

“We go in three.”

I said we, but I was a party of one until I got my MICE back. Ruby was just flying along for the ride. 

“One.”

I dematerialized the wall and stepped through the gaping hole while the air still sizzled with agitated particles. I needed the element of surprise, but I was the person who ended up stunned. 

My MICE stood in front of me, as expected, but they weren’t shackled, and they didn’t look happy to see me. 

The room was not at all what I expected either. I knew it was a large meeting hall, perfect for a slave auction, but instead of lots of frightened MICE and sweaty traders, the space was full of lights, record drones archiving everything, fancy looking people who belonged planet-side, not in an abandoned space station, and lots of beings wearing colorful sashes proclaiming weird things like “most imaginative traveler” or “best hijacker.”

Most of the record drones turned their lenses on me and I felt Ruby’s wind as the bot flew back through the hole and disappeared into the bowels of the space station. 

Some beings turned to watch me too. They continued to eat and drink their luxury consumables while they regarded me like a new, mildly interesting form of entertainment. 

What had I walked into?

“Seriously, Chell, did you have to blast a hole in the wall?” One said. 

“Element of surprise, am I right?” Two looked drunk, which wasn’t surprising, as half a glass was enough to render a ME totally legless. 

“I’m rescuing you.” I tried to grab Three and Four by the gold sashes draped across their torsos. Black letters proclaimed them winners. I assumed it was the name of their new ship. 

“From what? Enjoying ourselves? I guess we got your fun genes,” One said. 

“That’s why we’re so small.” Three collapsed into a fit of giggles. Great, another drunk. At least I could carry all four of them if I had to. 

“We haven’t been stolen, you wormhole,” One said. 

“We entered We Can’t Find Reverse and were the first to beg, borrow and steal our way across the galaxy. Haven’t you been watching the stream?” Four said. 

I scratched my head. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think these record drones are here? We signed away our life rights for the duration of the competition,” Two said. 

“You entered a competition and signed away your life rights for archives to stream your experiences? You know what I think about life streaming.”

I was furious, but the MICE seemed happy. 

“That’s why we didn’t sign you up and left the ship without you,” One said. 

Four bounced around me. “That doesn’t matter now. We won!”

Today was just one revelation after another. “You won? What did you win?”

“Our own record drone and life streaming broadcast,” Four said. 

“And enough credits to repair that wall. You can repay us by working on our new ship,” One said, nodding towards the enormous hole behind me. 

“New ship?”

One grabbed my hand and dragged me across the room, leaving Two, Three, and Four to their revelry. 

“Yes, you work for us now. Time to sign your contract.”

I gulped. My MICE didn’t need rescuing, I did! Where was Ruby when I needed them?

 

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Iseult Murphy is a chronically ill speculative writer from Ireland. She has published several novels and more than forty short stories. Her short fiction has appeared in the Drabblecast, the Creepy Podcast, Cosmic Crime Stories, and numerous anthologies. Find out more about her and her writing at https://iseultmurphy.com.

If you enjoyed this story, you might also want to read “Because the Night,” which we published last October.

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