The Advantage

It takes a long time to bring someone to a place like this. Good men driven to rock bottom, either in one lifetime or a dozen, desperate and willing to do anything to climb back up. Since the first society formed, there has been this layer that congeals at the bottom of it, a grease trap, filtering people out and casting them aside like junk.

And now, I’m here, at the largest grease trap of them all.

The Advantage, The biggest joke in the Collective. Where these people go to meet with one another and scrape by off of the scraps of what’s left behind by the layers above us.

The space station sits in the delicate orbit of the gas giant Icarro, collecting power from its dying sun with its dying solar panels. Once a major harbor for the Collective, the only people it harbors now are the scum, the ones the government ignores when not campaigning for votes or getting press pictures.

In other words. Me.

I coaxed my ancient comm to life and signaled The Docking Station. After waiting a few seconds, a gruff voice cut through the static.

“Entry will cost 150 Collective Mon.”

“That’s bullshit,” I replied, “I was here last week, and it was 125.”

“Maybe the price went up. If you can’t afford the docking fee, I’m sure there are people behind you who can.”

“I can afford it; I just think it’s trash.”

“Take it up with your local Representative.”

Okay, that made me smile.

“Maybe I will.”

With the tap of a button, the Mon transferred out of my account and into the account of whoever was running the Docking Station this year.

“I look forward to the Representative’s call. Welcome aboard.”

The radio shut off, and one of the Docking Bay’s doors opened. I moved slowly forward, allowing the guide drone to find me and attach itself to my hull. Reeling my ship in, clamps firmly gripped it as an airlock extended to meet the ship’s door. A message popped up on the cracked screen of my control panel.

“Please enter your ICW Identification Number.”

Typing in the number, I waited as the computer attempted to connect to a central server. Soon, my ID popped up on the screen.

“Welcome Aboard, Jey Rellud.”

I stared at my picture for a second. Green eyes stared back at me, circuitry running through the Scleras; a mess of black hair framed his face as he stared out from the picture, heavy bags under my eyes that I’m sure have only gotten worse. He wore the same outfit I was today, a black jumpsuit that would usually go under the space gear. The only difference was mine sported a fancy new tear on the shoulder.

Turning off the screen, the photo vanished.

Good.

Setting my ship to lockdown, I disembarked onto The Advantage. Rusting metal walls, barely showing the white paint that used to cover them, revealed the familiar pipes and wires of the crumbling station. Walking down the hall, I saw the virtual and paper billboards covering the walls, advertising the products of the station’s past and current life.

I moved down the cramped halls connecting the docking station to the rest of The Advantage, trying to avoid bumping into people heading back the other way.

“Watch where you’re going,” one snapped as I leaped to the side to avoid their hover-cart of scrap metal and old electronics.

“Sorry,” I muttered, walking away from them before they could make a show of it.

Exiting the Docking Station, the cramped hall opened into a massive room filled with people and products. The loud shouts, bangs, and scrapping noises quickly overwhelmed my senses, forcing me to put in my earplugs to hear myself think.

“Jey?” a voice called.

Hearing my name, I turned and saw Vaz walking towards me. The taller man was wearing a new-looking blue jumpsuit with an A embroidered on the left breast. His brown hair was neatly styled, and his eyes were bright and cheerful. I almost didn’t recognize him as he ran up and hugged me.

“Vaz! Good to see you.” I responded, “It’s been too long.”

Vaz smiled, looking me over. He noticed the bandages on my arm and the bruise on my neck. He gave me a look of concern.

I knew I should have covered those up more.

“You have a few more nicks and scratches than last time. Did you get in a fight?” he asked.

“Nah,” I responded, waving him off. ” Ol’ Fenix’s retro boosters turned on randomly a few weeks ago and sent me into the control panel. Banged me up and put a few of my controls on the fritz.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I’m fine. The real trouble is Fenix. I need her in top shape before I get back into the asteroids. That’s why I’m here.”

I walked deeper into the space station’s core, with Vaz tailing behind me.

“Don’t tell me you’re still scrapping,” he said. My stomach dropped as I realized what I had started.

“It pays the bills,” I responded, stopping to study some engine parts.

“You know I can get you another job, Jey.”

“I know.”

“Scrapping’s getting more and more dangerous now that the Guild fell apart.”

“I know.”

Vaz looked at me with concern. I didn’t respond, studying the pieces of the engine laid before me, no doubt positioned perfectly to hide their damage.

“Jey.” Vaz said, “I’m worried about you going out there.”

“I’ve been fine every other time,” I said

“I know you have, but the galaxy is changing.”

“We’ve always been at the bottom of the Galaxy,” I responded.

“Yes, but now there are things out to get you.” Vaz said, “The Hand is radicalizing the scrappers, and nothing stands in their way without the Guild. Also, that hivemind has been eating away at planets for months!”

I looked at him. Stepping away from the engine parts, I glanced around the large, busy room. Nobody seemed to have the Handprint on their shoulder. Sighing with relief, I grabbed Vaz’s arm and walked away from the pile of parts.

“I’m not going to be radicalized by The Hand Vaz.” I hissed, “You know I’m not into politics like that.”

“It’s not about that!” Vaz responded, “I don’t want to lose you to some accident that could have been avoided if you had a different job!”

I let go of his arm, taking another glance at the people around us. They moved around us like water flowing around a rock, chattering with one another and looking at the wares being sold by the booths surrounding the massive room. If any of them cared about what we were saying, they did a good job hiding it.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Vaz?” I asked. Scrapping is something I’m good at. It helps me get by, and when I’m lucky, I get enough to build some savings. We don’t live in a galaxy that allows you to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. We live in one where you need to be really good at what you do, or you die.”

“I can help you!” Vaz responded.

“No.” I said, “If I feel like scrapping is dangerous, I’ll stop, but until that happens, I will keep at it. The Guild may be gone, but I don’t have to bow to the Hands’ demands. I can still do my own thing.”

Vaz looked hurt. He was among the first to jump ship when the Guild started falling apart. He begged me to go with him, but I insisted they could pull it back together.

I knew now how foolish that was.

Vaz sighed. Looking away from me and out over the crowds that pressed in on us.

“Fine.” he said, “go ahead.”

“Vaz…” I responded. He shook his head.

“I know that you’re good at what you do.” He said, “You’re the best. Nobody can navigate those asteroid fields like you do with Fenix, but I’m scared for you. I don’t want to be waiting for you here in this rotting space station.”

“You’re never at this rotting space station anymore.”

“I’m here now.”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

“What do you want me to do, Vaz?” I asked, “What useful talents do I have beyond getting junk from wrecks and selling it?”

“I’ve been disassembling Dyson Spheres; it’s a lot of the same stuff; live in your ship, bring in the pieces, and break them down for transport. I’ve been doing it for the last two years. I can help you get a job.”

I hadn’t known that. I’m sure he told me before, but I didn’t pay attention. It was a job that made sense for Vaz. I’m sure business was booming with the recent Black Hole power generators replacing the old Dyson Spheres across the Collective as the primary source of power for the galaxy.

“you get a consistent wage, benefits, insurance, and the ability to travel the galaxy.” Vaz continued, “I went on a transit ship with the Mightexplode a few months ago and traveled to Sadina. Hell, I could pay for the Mightexplode to be looked at by a professional for the first time; the old girl finally got the work that we talked about.”

I remembered that conversation. Vaz’s ship was having trouble steering, so we both went on Fenix to scrape up some scrap we could sell for his repairs. We talked for hours, looking out the viewport. He told me about getting the Mightexplode looked at by a professional, saving money to find a place he could live on a little backwater planet, and getting out of the grease trap we had both been filtered into. In turn, I talked about upgrades to the Fenix I wanted, getting a new life support rig that didn’t smell like rubber, and buying one of those fancy new sonars from the Guild that could tell the difference between asteroids and wrecks. It was one of the only times we were alone with nothing to do and nobody from the Guild to bother us.

That was the year before Vaz told me he was done scrapping, packed his ship up with the money he had saved, and ran off to find some “better life.” leaving the failing Guild and fleeing the grease trap.

Leaving me behind.

I snapped back to the conversation, leaving the moment in Fenix in the past.

“I’m glad to hear that, Vaz.”

He looked down. This conversation obviously wasn’t going the way he had planned. Touching my arm, he looked me in the eye again, his expression pleading.

“At least consider it, Jey.” he said, “why don’t I pay for Fenix’s repairs, and you come with me on the Mightexplode? I can take you to a few days of work, and you can see how you like it.

My mind spun for a second as I considered his offer. Repairs to Fenix, time spent with Vaz. My mind went back to the time we spent on Fenix together. We could have that again.

But at what cost?

Scrapping has always been more than scrapping to me. Weaving through the asteroids, finding the treasures of wrecked ships, and taking what is found inside, the rush of watching the Mon Counter rise as the traders process your haul—it’s freedom and liberation. Vaz left that life and submitted himself to some boss. It might look the same on the surface, but he gave up that freedom to run off to some other world, to some other life.

And now he’s here, fishing through the grease trap he escaped to “rescue” the person he left behind.

“I can’t,” I said.

Vaz looked hurt.

“Why not?”

“Vaz, I can’t give up scrapping and tie myself down to some job and boss. I can’t exchange the asteroid fields for some star somewhere where my job is laid out for me ahead of time. I need the freedom.”

“Would you at least think about it?” Vaz asked, “For me?”

That caught me off guard. I looked at my friend, his brown eyes piercing into mine.

Why can’t I just give it a try?

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts away, I respond to him.

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” I said. Vaz gave me a smile in return.

“Thank you. Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, nodding toward The Advantage’s Bar. I nodded and followed him as he led the way, my mind still swimming.

We spent an hour drinking and catching up. Luckily, Vaz didn’t press the topic of scrapping anymore; instead, he shared stories about his co-workers and his jobs around the various stars of The Collective. We shared three drinks, but I insisted on paying for mine separately.

Just like old times.

After the drinks, Vaz said he had to go. Fenix’s control panel and retro rockets were long gone from my memory when he offered to walk with me back to the Docking station, so I followed him down the hall.

“I hope you can find the parts for Fenix soon!” he said. I nodded, remembering the broken bits but too distracted to care. I was in no condition to dig through the piles of broken ship parts or pay for the workspace I needed to run the repairs. I decided to come back the next week. Maybe the prices would have dropped by then.

“Thanks, me too.”

If you ever want to take me up on my offer, give me a call. I can have a guy look at Fenix and get all the work that it needs.

“I will.”

“Be careful out there, Jey; get back here in one piece, okay?”

I looked at him and saw the familiar flash of worry pass over his expression. I thought about making a quip, telling him he didn’t need to worry. I was always careful; even when I wasn’t, I was talented enough to get out without much injury.

That wouldn’t help things.

“I will, Vaz; when are you stopping by here again?”

“I don’t know,” Vaz responded, looking at the rusting walls of the docking station. “When the work leads us back together, right?”

I grimaced at the old Guild Goodbye and the memories it dredged up.

“When the work leads us back together.”

Vaz nodded, fidgeting with his hands the way he always did when he was nervous.

“Bye, Jey,” he said.

“Bye, Vaz, good to see you.”

He nodded and walked off, deeper into the docking station where the Mightexplode presumably waited for him. For a second, I imagined calling his name, running after him, stopping him in any way. But instead, I watched him vanish into the crowds of people streaming into and out of the docking station. I turned and boarded Fenix, the doors scraping open and shut, sealing me off from the station and the people on it.

I allowed the guiding drone to safely distance me from The Advantage and glanced back at the old station.

A grease trap, filtering people out and casting them aside like junk.

I thought I could see the Mightexplode disappear around the gas giant and out of view.

Perhaps the worst part of the grease trap is its ability to make you feel like it’s the only place you belong.

Tenderly coaxing Fenix’s rockets to life, I sailed away from the gas giant and into the vast, lonely emptiness of my freedom.