This time, Wilder didn't hide in his cabin. He stayed in the cockpit, watching the pilot work while the rest of the crew slept. Gabriel was ready to fall asleep as well, but Wilder kept bringing him caffeine and telling him the stories of the series he had watched in his hiding spot — all according to the advice of a "highly effective manager."
"This plot has a major problem: the amplitude of narration is too slow; it ruins the flow of the story..." Wilder began.
"You thee a pthoblem in that?" Gabriel replied, his lisp thick. "That'th where all the beauty ith — in the thlow buildup."
"Why waste precious seconds of screen time on empty walking?" Wilder wondered. "The hero spends a full minute on a movement that could be finished in four seconds. It is a terrible waste of the viewer's time..."
"Now look here, Wildethr... If that weren't important, then what ith life? Juth jumping from one event to the next? Life ith in thothe meditative pautheth. Why do you think I'm at the thtick? Becauthe I like to look at the beauty and think."
"I am genuinely confused. You are someone who has deep thoughts and searches for internal balance? This did not fit my theory of your behavior." Wilder was sincerely surprised by this turn.
"Oh yeah? And what did you think — that after work I run to drink beer? Or play gameth in thome dump?"
"To be honest, based on the statistics of alien like you, I was certain you spent your money on adult services. Clearly, my information was wrong."
"You're hurting my feelingth, Wildethr." Gabriel gave a sad smirk and nodded toward the screen. "Look at the beauty we're about to enter."
The ship cut through the sky, tearing rain clouds apart. Lightning flashed before them, striking down in blinding arrows. Rain hit the glass, and as the Main CP-01 went upward, the window creaked sadly from the sudden frost. The instruments started making a frantic, endless beep; sensors flashed red. The lights failed to see through the gloom, but the ship continued to push through the clouds until, finally, it broke into the dawn sky.
Red rays filled the cockpit. It became completely quiet; the readings returned to normal. The icy layer slowly slid off the windows, painting the faces of the pilot and passenger in warm tones.
"Thee that, Wildethr? It didn't make thenth, did it? We could have jutht climbed into the sky in a thtraight line. But thith... thith giveth you real emotionth!" Gabriel was happy like a child.
"It is... visually perfect. I made an error in my calculations, failing to recognize the esthete in you. I take my words back," Wilder whispered. "But I am still confused: if you love beauty so much, why is your workplace a cramped ship and not a…?"
"Gabriel, damn it! Are you wasting fuel again?"
Anna's voice erupted into the cockpit. She appeared in the doorway and immediately looked at the owner:
"Otherwise, our baby-boss will have a fit of anger when he sees the fuel use. Poor Main CP-01 is already held together by spit and prayers."
"Now, Anna, I jutht wanted to thow the eththeticth to Wildethr..." Gabriel shrugged guiltily.
"I bet he started sharing that dream of his again?" She smiled meanly.
"Dream? I am curious about the details of your future dream. What does this idea consist of?" Wilder asked, intrigued.
"He dreams of making a movie," Anna said with a laugh. "Not generating it in a neural network, but actually filming it on old digital equipment."
"The beauty of thith moment!" Gabriel broke in enthuthtia-thtically.
"Watch the road, dreamer," she said, leaving the cockpit.
That is how dreams break. Not even against harsh words, but against life itself. Working forever at a low-paying job while trying to save a tiny bit for creativity, you simply lie to yourself, delaying the truth. You comfort yourself with the thought: "This money will serve me later..." And then a tooth starts to ache — the price for cheap products full of sugar, fast carbs, and heavy fats. Or the saved money goes toward a fake consolation — buying an android for pleasure, just to avoid feeling alone. They moved across cities and countries. Gabriel constantly pointed out buildings that reminded him of the curves of a wolien's body... And so the days ran into one another: an endless cycle of moving cargo, struggling to pay for fuel, and a slow, careful introduction to the crew. Anna was the hardest person to understand — she would fall into periods of depression, get angry at the slightest problem, or become coldly calm. It was as if some secret fear was hurting her from the inside.
A serious problem occurred, and Wilder had to go down into the hub compartment to repair a breakdown. Sam went with him. The half-cyborg had essentially taken Wilder under his wing, helping him with everything and always supporting him in small arguments with Anna. Sam loved giving simple but well-meaning advice. reminding him, for instance, that washing one's face in the morning was absolutely necessary. In the evenings, during stops, they would throw a ball back and forth. It was then that Sam revealed the "Grand Secret of Physics": the sharper the angle, the further it flies, and if you stare at the ball while it's in the air, you'll never catch it. "Lookit the arm, quit gawkin' at the balls."
Wilder caught himself thinking that he was spending more time with this broken cyborg than he ever had with his own father. They spent hours looking for the fault, their neon flashlights cutting through the corners of the dark, stale compartment.
"Sorry, but is this high-frequency hiss a necessary part of the ship's sound? Because in every science content I've seen, such a sound happens before an explosion. I would move to a safe distance, unless you are planning a sudden destruction of the hull."
"Psh, nah, what're you talking on about. She's been hissin', I think, since back when I still had all my real hands in place. Good times, I'd bet tooth on it..." Sam lifted an artificial arm and pulled out a tooth. "— Didn't lose 'em all at once, not even in a year. Spent ten years on it, maybe more."
"Poor soul. Could you explain the exact order of events? I need to understand which specific error led to such a bad result."
"Who knows how it went wrong. Got squeezed here, got eaten by the rust there. I remember one for sure, right there, between those crates. I was jumping around and just left it behind. Ha-ha! Old Gabriel can give you the details; he's good at telling stories..."
"Wouldn't it be simpler to just destroy this flying piece of junk? Now, I see no logical reason to hold on to these rusted pieces of chitin that can't even fly in a straight line. Perhaps I should have allowed the transport of the radioactive waste after all."
"Scrap it? You sayin' that 'cause of the dangerous cargo we carried last? That's our Anna being so smart. She wants to save some money, jump off this old ship, and open her own business. It's not a good idea... but if yes... where are old Gabriel and I supposed to go? To the trash?"
"Will she fail?"
"Her? Yeah, she'll fail. Who needs her work these days when the AI coughs 'em up in a second? Our Main CP-01 is just a leaky bucket, a piece of old junk. You need a living head here just to keep the electronics from burning. And as for business — she's got a hole in her pocket. The lady's just desperate. She sees us rusting alive here, and it makes her angry."
"So it turns out we are the only ones in this sector without a dream? A curious coincidence. Usually, the absence of a long-term goal leads to a mental crisis, but I feel quite comfortable so far. How about you?" Wilder asked.
"Sorry, boy, but I'm gonna have to disappoint ya. I got a dream, for sure."
"What? No! Why would you assume that would upset me? My self-respect does not depend on your opinion... Oh. I see by your face that my honesty has once again been seen as aggression. I apologize..." Wilder stopped, realizing he had accidentally insulted him.
"Ah, forget it. I ain't blind; I get it. I'm just a chitin wreck, an unlucky guy with somethin' still working in his chest. Every single year I lose parts of my body, just like little kids lose their baby teeth."
An awkward silence hung in the air. To bridge the gap, half-cyberg began to talk about himself dream.
"Anyway... I'm planning to get a permit. You know, a license so I can start a family. It needs to be for two — for me and some lady I haven't even met yet. You get how it is... without that paper, no lady is going to take a chance on a broken body like mine. But I'm saving a little, bit by bit. I think there isn't any real life without it."
In this world, family had become a luxury. It wasn't that the aliens no longer wanted to be together; instead, the state had turned that right into a special privilege. Once, a falling birth rate was considered a disaster, and the creation of new life was required by the state. This continued until the environmental crisis hit its limit, caused by too many aliens. Then, everything changed. Even alien against vaccines became popular; the authorities thought that if someone wanted to end their own family line, why stop them? It only helped the bigger goal. The final result of this policy was a shocking ratio: one child per thousand aliens. A birth permit cost a huge amount of money, becoming the main investment of a lifetime. This was the greatest victory for every newborn the simple fact that they existed against the situation.
Searching through the area, Wilder recalled his father's stories about those specific parts. Comparing their location with the technical map, he and Sam reached the correct hub. Indeed, the problem lay precisely there: an emergency stop sensor was installed in this section. As soon as the parts wore out or moved, the system would automatically stop all movement. Since the problem was old and familiar from his father's tales, they fixed it quickly. Several days passed. Wilder had clearly grown closer to Sam and Gabriel. During another stop at a high-altitude cafe, they sat and drank beers. Wilder was now trying to talk to Anna. She still stayed alone, watching the friendly trio with clear distrust.
"Anna, I've noticed that old friends often tell the same stories. Perhaps you'd like to add something? I'd be interested in hearing your version of events," Wilder asked, turning toward her.
"No!" she snapped.
"Oh, Ann, stop being angry. Tell the kid how you first started working with his old alien. He was working hard here until he bought this rusted ship," Sam said. Anna's face looked even more upset.
"True enough, Anna. Back then, you'd only jutht thtarted, and you definitely couldn't afford thith thhip," Gabriel added, making the situation worse.
"What?! I don't care about this ship!" She slammed the table so hard the glasses jumped. "And I don't want your planet either! If it were up to me, I'd have bought some old junk at a used-vessel market a long time ago!"
"And what is your... well, honestly... your dream? I don't mean just a to-do list or work goals, but what you think about when you don't have to be useful or productive," Wilder asked awkwardly.
"Growing greenery. Selling lawns," she said sharply, as if she couldn't believe she was admitting it out loud. "To do that, you have to get to the Far Planets."
"Well, Anna... for that, you need a fortune, which we, unfortunately, don't have. And everything'th jutht getting more expenthive. And then there'th the warth," Gabriel tried to put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.
"I know!" She breathed out sharply, her chest moving. "That's why I don't want anything anymore."
Wilder bowed his head. They were truly trapped. The crew had been stuck in this mess for years, and he, having barely arrived, already felt the hopelessness and the spreading rot of the future, a future as pointless as life in this dying star system. His thoughts were interrupted by a segment on the wormhole. The announcer spoke with fake enthusiasm:
"We have invited a specialist in space anomalies, Doctor Brans, to the studio. Doctor, we see that the environmental crisis cannot be stopped; tell us, is it possible to reach the Far Planets via a shortcut? Or perhaps even travel into the far past?"
"Of course not — as far as the past is concerned — but regarding a shortcut to the Far Planets, yes!" Doctor Brans replied. "Many fear it, but it's unnecessary. It's an ordinary tunnel to another system. It's just... blocked. We must study it, for we are no longer capable of saving our own system. We need an exit."
Wilder looked at his crew. They ate in silence, not even turning their heads toward the screen.
"Have you truly lost all energy?" he asked softly.
"As you can see, we're just full of enthusiasm," Anna snapped, without a trace of emotion in her voice.
"I have decided to tell you the life story of a highly ineffective person. Your agreement is not necessary, as this story serves as a serious illustration of my theory on social failure. Listen closely."
He began to tell his story: the years in school when he was a target for bullying, when every day was a battle just to stay unnoticed. He spoke of his loneliness, of how he hid himself in games to avoid seeing reality. The crew listened with such attention, it was as if he were giving a speech at a church. A single tear rolled down Sam's cheek; Gabriel simply cried, making no effort to hide his face. Anna watched him with silent astonishment, seeing in the "kid" not just an owner, but a living, wounded soul.
"So, considering that the chance of a solution here is becoming zero — as is our future... I hereby declare!" Wilder raised his glass with seriousness, however clumsily. "We are officially starting the Great Expedition!"
"Where to?" Anna asked sharply.
"There!" Wilder pointed a finger at the news hologram.
"Have you lost your mind? Into the Royal Fleet?" Anna frowned. "Not for any amount of money am I going there."
Indeed, while Wilder was pouring his soul out, the video had changed. The atmosphere in the cafe shifted as well: the drunken patrons had left, a cleaning robot was neatly arranging chairs, and the last of the kitchen staff were heading out. The place was no longer taking orders. Now, a propaganda film played on the hologram, calling for soldiers to join the Fleet. Strong bodies performed impossible moves likely just to catch a laser bolt and fall with artistic grace later on.
"No, there was a segment on wormholes just now!" Wilder protested. "If we start a study of the hole, our names will be remembered forever alongside the greatest explorers!.."
"And where's the money coming from?" Anna asked.
"Phoebe told me that Doctor Brans is looking for enthusiasts for this expedition. However, please note: my interest at this stage is purely theoretical. I am only gathering basic data to create a model of our potential participation."
"I'm in! If I'm going to die, that's the way to do it," Anna suddenly exhaled.
"What? You were planning on... ending it all?" Sam was surprised.
"Of course not. But since we're talking theory, why not? We'll never save enough for our dreams. With every passing day, the chance to succeed shrinks. You, Gabriel, will likely never see a field. And I won't be the one selling it. The rules are getting tighter; now only the rich can afford children, and everything is getting more expensive. It's not enough to start a business; you have to somehow keep it going."
"Ah, to hell with it, I have nothing to lose anyway," Sam interrupted. "I'm 'in' with every rusted inch of my chitin parts. Before I turn to dust for good, I have to take a damn risk."
"And what is behind the wormholes?" Gabriel asked, and at that moment, his notification vibrated.
"The main idea: a shortcut to the Far Planets. They say it's still green there, with real, natural food. It's all myths and legends, of course — but then again, there was a time we didn't believe we'd even live on the Near Planets," Anna said.
"Let's drink to the myth being true!"
They clicked glasses, and for the first time in a long while, a look of genuine hope, not just a fake smile appeared on their faces. But then, a figure being interviewed on the screen began to scream. The soldier screamed wildly, with a fierce, terrifying energy the scream of someone already prepared to kill. He was a starship trooper, heading out for guard duty. He swore to destroy anyone who dared go against his King, and by extension — the Motherland. Anna watched the screen with a stone face, showing no emotion. To her, it was just familiar background noise. Wilder, however, froze, experiencing a lot of bad feelings. This message terrified him to his core. It felt as if the soldier was looking directly at him.
"Wherever you are, I will find you and tear you apart!" The trooper roared.
Of course, it wasn't a personal message to Wilder. It's just Bucks.