Chapter 3: Poor Little Space Elf’s Mercenary Guild

Chapter 3:
Poor Little Space Elf’s Mercenary Guild

 

TARMEIN PRIME was torus shaped, er, maybe I should say doughnut shaped, and it was always rotating. That centrifugal force helped create the artificial gravity that stabilized the colony. It also meant the inside of the doughnut-shaped ring was walkable.

“Well, that’s interesting.” The ground seemed to go on uphill forever. Above me loomed a faraway glass ceiling. The vastness of space swirled outside that ceiling, broken by the hub at the center of the doughnut. Elevators led up to the hub, placed on the ground at equal intervals like spokes on bicycle wheels. Maybe it would be more accurate to say this place was like a bike tire rather than a doughnut, then, with all those spokes leading from the outer rim to the central hub.

“Welp, here goes.” I wandered aimlessly, simply enjoying the scenery of the colony. Passersby took notice, but I didn’t pay them any mind. I was too busy soaking in all these new sights. Sadly, I couldn’t spend all my time sightseeing like some overwhelmed hick in a city for the first time. The colony didn’t boast the proudest safety rating. A three out of five—decidedly average. My original home—Japan—was a five out of five for safety. A place where a guy like me could openly carry a gun definitely wasn’t as safe as Japan.

I couldn’t move about freely, though. The only place I was allowed to go was the Third Division, which was apparently not the nicest place. I didn’t want to linger there long, but I also had no idea where to start. At least I had my laser. When some thugs shot me nasty looks, all I had to do was flash my weapon and they disappeared into an alley rather than mess with me.

That didn’t prevent someone from pouncing on me from behind. “Hey, newbie. Nice gun ya got there.” I spun around and faced a gorgeous, silver-haired woman. We’re talking drop-dead, once-in-a-lifetime stunning. Her almost-transparent silver hair framed her face in a neat bob. She was on the small side, but it was clear she was also muscular and strong.

What stood out most of all, though, were the ears that poked out from her hair. Was she an elf? Did elves live in space? Did I think this was sci-fi when it was actually high fantasy all along? Either way, I didn’t remember seeing anyone like her in Stella Online.

Okay, so maybe science fiction did include pointy-eared demi-humans from time to time. It was a staple of the genre. Nothing too alarming.

The best way to describe her clothes was perhaps “casual military.” Definitely not elf-y. There was no fluttering sheer cloth here. She dressed like me: tough-looking pants, a plain shirt, and a sturdy jacket with a small laser in a holster fastened to her hip.

“What? You just gonna stare at me?” she demanded.

“Do you expect me not to be on guard when I’m accosted by a stranger? Have some common sense.”

“Okay, fair enough. But I’m not suspicious. Can’t you tell? I’m a mercenary, just like you!” The silver-haired elf mercenary smirked and puffed out her chest. Her breasts were…well, nothing to write home about. Not that they were nonexistent, but still. Maybe this world was stingy with elf breast sizes? I guess it was too soon to judge based on one poor little space elf.

“Excuse me? Where do you think you’re looking, buddy?” Noticing my gaze, she glared and covered her small chest with her arms.

“Just looking at your meager breasts, since you puffed them out so proudly. Got a problem with it?”

“Don’t give me that crap. You’re a lively little newbie, aren’t you?” Her grin turned fierce and predatory.

Might be a mistake to make this one mad. She was armed, after all. “How do you know I’m a newbie, anyway? What, do I have a sign over my head or something?”

“Okay, first off, can you stop being so intentionally annoying? It’s giving me goosebumps and not the good kind.”

“Sure. So?”

“Well, your outfit and that laser gun make it pretty obvious that you’re a mercenary.”

“True,” I agreed. Fair enough. On closer inspection, nobody was dressed quite like us. They all wore lighter, thinner clothing. We really stuck out among all that.

“Also, I saw you looking all around like you’ve never seen the colony before. That’s something people only do when they’ve never left their hometown in their entire life.”

“Interesting. You’re a smart one, poor little space elf.”

“The hell’d you just call me?”

“Nooothing at all. So, smart mercenary lady, what do you want from me?”

Her eyes narrowed with murderous intent for a moment. I needed to be more cautious about goading a small-chested woman like her.

“…Hmph, whatever. I’m just bored,” she sulked.

“Come again?”

“I know the galactic police are up to something fishy, but I’ve got no details, so I’m bored. I don’t wanna make a fool of myself by rubbernecking outside the colony, but there’s nothing going on in the colony, so there’s nothing to do. Sooo…I’m bored.”

“And?”

“And, I found a newbie while I was wandering around, so I decided to come and mess with you.”

“I see.” I didn’t, not really. But hey, if she wanted to mess with me, I might as well use her. I’d get information, and she would get to waste some time being entertained by the newbie. A win for everyone. “Okay, Miss. If you’re bored, how about you take me somewhere I can buy food?”

She thought for a moment. “Hmm, I dunno. There aren’t any places with booze around here, and that’s just boring.”

“Booze… So that’s what you’re after?” I still had the alcohol I’d filched from the pirates in my cargo hold. It probably wouldn’t sell for much and I didn’t partake of the stuff. This was as good a use for it as any. “I’ve got some alcohol containers I swiped from pirates back at my ship.”

“Oh? And?”

“You can have it, as long as you show me where to get groceries. I could also use some advice. Maybe you could answer some questions, since you’re my senior around here, y’know?”

“Hmm…” The poor little space elf cocked her head in thought for a while before finally agreeing. “Sure, I’ve got time to waste. Getting some booze makes the deal even sweeter. Prepare to learn the basics of merc-hood from me, your senior!” She immediately latched on to that word: senior. Not that I really cared. She was cute and her reactions were funny and I’d probably get a lot of good information out of the arrangement.

“Cool, sounds like we’ve got a deal,” I said. “Uh, I think you make deals on terminals, right? I’ll log in. Just give me your ID.”

“Sure. But if you stalk me, I’m blocking you.” We handed each other our small info terminals and exchanged communication IDs. Her name popped up: Elma. Now I not only had a name for her, but we could also trade goods between our ships via the terminals. “Hmm. Hiro, huh? That’s a really simple name.”

“Shut up. Elma’s just as simple, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but it’s much prettier.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I groaned. Why was she so competitive over every little thing? Agreeing with her only made her grin widen. Maybe she was one of those lonely attention-seeking types. I hurried to send the booze to Elma’s ship. She accepted the contract right away, and the containers moved to her hold. “How does the transfer actually work?” I asked.

“You don’t know? They made it so connected hangars can access the colony’s mass transport system. That’s how they move stuff between the ships.”

“Huh, interesting.” So, moving cargo around was automatic here. Sounded like hauling crates by hand was a relic of centuries past.

“How long have you been a mercenary, Elma?” I asked.

“Five years. I’m practically a veteran in this galaxy.”

“Huh, I see.” Five years. That was even longer than Stella Online had existed. She truly did outrank me. “Guess you really are my senior. Thanks for the help.”

“That’s much better. It’s good to respect your elders!”

“Elders?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m fifty-three years old.”

“What? How? Are you just wearing a lot of makeup or something?” She didn’t even look like she’d hit twenty, let alone fifty.

“Nope. We just live a lot longer than you humans. No matter how healthy you are, you all die out by the time you hit 150. Our natural lives are at least 500 years long.”

“Oh, so it’s a difference in species, huh? If you’ve been a merc for five years, then that means you started at forty-eight years old, right? What was your life like before that?”

“D-does it matter?! It’s rude to pry into a merc’s past, y’know!” Elma snapped and jabbed a finger at me. Looked like I’d hit a sore spot.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, my bad for asking. I was just curious. But just so you know, if you get that mad about the question, you’re basically confirming something bad happened.”

“Mrgh… A-as long as you understand.”

Yikes, whatever it was must have been truly awful. I didn’t want to pry. Better to avoid bringing it up and making her angry.

Elma gathered herself and we started walking together again. I tried a change of topic: merc basics. That should be safe.

I admit, my first impression of her as a poor little space elf prepared me for a ridiculous answer. But no! She actually gave me sound advice. “When you take a request, you have to go through your mercenary guild. Especially if you wanna avoid trouble,” she said.

“Guilds, huh? Speaking of, I gotta sign up.”

“What?! You’re a newbie and unlicensed?! You need to register before you even think about bothering with groceries!”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

She grabbed my jacket and dragged me back the way we came. A mercenary guild’s office sat right next to the elevator from the hangar bay. Elma fumed as she lectured me on the dangers of being unlicensed. According to her, mercenaries not registered to a guild would be treated basically the same as pirates, just without the bounty. In some cases, they could even be refused docking rights.

“Tough universe out there,” I said.

“As it should be! What, you think they shouldn’t be worried about some random weirdo flying around in a ship that could take down the whole colony in a single shot? How have you not been arrested yet?!”

“Heh. It’s funny you should mention that. I’ve got one heck of a tearjerker for you.” We reached the mercenary guild’s office as I spoke. I’d have to explain some other time.

The office was way nicer than I imagined it would be. For one thing, it was bright. The lights reflected off shiny floors. Cushioned, backless stools and a few counters furnished a waiting room. A signboard dangled from the ceiling above each counter. There weren’t too many employees, though. Maybe this wasn’t a very lucrative gig.

“It looks more like a government office than a merc guild,” I said.

“They’re pretty much the same around here. Let’s go to the reception desk,” the elf said.

“Gotcha, boss.”

We approached a counter behind which sat a stern-looking man covered in scars. His left arm was a mechanical prosthetic. Now, this was starting to look like a merc guild.

“Hey, what d’ya want?” he asked.

“We’ve got a newbie!” the elf said. “He’s been running around unlicensed.”

“Damn, unlicensed? I’ve heard of your kind, but you’re the first I’ve seen. Sit right over here, my man.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” I said. I sat as directed. This guy meant business. If I met him in my past life, I’d do everything I could to avoid him. He just oozed crazy yakuza.

“If you’re going around unlicensed, you at least gotta have a ship, yeah? Tell me your ship name and ID. Is it parked in this hangar?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Pfft! You’re awfully nice outta nowhere. Are you scared?” Elma teased.

“Quiet, you.” I glared at Elma. She covered her mouth and giggled at me regardless. But seriously, how can you blame me? Anyone would be intimidated by this guy.

The scary receptionist entered my ship name and ID into a tablet. “I ain’t never seen a ship like this,” he said. “What’s the deal?”

“Oh, uh, origin is unknown. But I didn’t steal it, I swear,” I said.

“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t,” he said. “Ah, whatever. It’s bad manners to bother mercs about their pasts, anyway. It looks like you hunted three pirate ships four days ago. Is that it? You don’t have any docking history, buddy.”

“I ended up near this colony because of some hyperdrive accident or something. My memories are pretty fuzzy. I’m not even sure where exactly I am. U-um, sir.”

“For real? Uh…hell with it, I don’t care. At least there’s no bounty on you. Also, cut out the politeness. People are gonna think you’re soft.”

“G-gotcha.”

It takes real guts to talk casually to a guy like you…

“You heard the man!” Elma cut in. “If they think you’re soft, you’re done for.” She turned to the receptionist and added, “Also, wow, you really don’t care about the rules.”

“Kid, you know there’s no point probing into his past. He’s got a ship and no bounty. Sounds fine to me.”

I jumped in with a question. “Oh, hey. Ships aren’t cheap, right? A guy can’t just wake up and decide, ‘Yeah, I’m gonna be a mercenary!’ and get the job that day. So how do you guys make sure you have employees?”

I’d done some of the research myself. I knew that a ship with useful gear would cost at least 500,000 Ener. Converted to Japanese currency, that was 50,000,000 yen. That had to be a pretty significant chunk of change.

“A lot of ’em are retired soldiers looking for a new life,” the receptionist explained. “They’re paid well, and they get the job done. A lot of people turn to mercenary work for a new life. Some rich people just do it for thrills.”

“Are there any educational facilities for mercs?” I asked.

“Yeah, but none in this star system.”

“I’m sensing some high barriers to entry.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a big galaxy. There’s plenty of demand out there.” Did the barriers to entry keep enrollment so low that it just wasn’t worth it to build many facilities? Or was there not enough work to make it worthwhile? Hmm. I couldn’t tell yet, but I decided to leave it at that.

“Registration’s done,” the receptionist said. “Next up is your test.”

“I’m getting tested?” I said.

“Yeah, buddy. We can’t know what jobs to give you if we don’t know how strong you are.”

“That sounds fair, I guess. How does it work?”

“We’ve got training simulators. You do it in there.”

“Okay.”

The receptionist called to someone in the back of the office before guiding us to a different room. Wait, why was Elma joining in on this?

She smirked when she noticed me looking. “I believe I have the right to see how strong our little newbie is.”

“Do you?” I retorted.

To be fair, she was the reason I registered at the guild so smoothly. I supposed I owed it to her to let her see my skills. It could be a good chance to show off to a five-year veteran. Someone with that kind of experience would be a good barometer of how I’d stack up in the wider universe.

“Here,” the receptionist said. The simulation room was larger than I expected. A massive room contained several enclosures, each the size of a small truck and housing a simulator. It was almost like they yanked the cockpits out of ships and lugged them in here. “Pick the one most like your own cockpit and strap in.”

“Awesome,” I replied. Ships’ cockpits differed greatly in design based on manufacturer, including their control schemes. As such, ships were made to be compatible with multiple cockpit blocks so the user could switch them out between ships. Fortunately, that was all part of Stella Online, meaning this was nothing new for me. “This looks good,” I said.

“Oh ho, the high-end military one. I’ll get her set right up for you.” The guy sounded impressed by my choice. Good. He left, apparently to start up the machine that operated the simulators. Elma vanished at some point, too—likely watching from afar.

 

***

 

“All right, we’re gonna begin this evaluation,” the receptionist announced.

“Understood. What’s the ship body data for this test?” I asked.

“You’ve got it with you. You should be able to use it just like it’s your own ship… Hey, whoa, what the hell?”

“What’s up?”

“I mean, this ship’s data is just… Can you use this, dude?”

“As long as it’s the Krishna’s data, yes.” Was something wrong? In Stella Online, the Krishna was among the stronger ships, but I didn’t know how it measured up in this universe.

“Ah, fine,” the man said. “The test is meant to measure your skill using your own ship, anyway. It’s a simple test: just get rid of all the hostile ships. All ships except yours are hostile. There won’t be many at first, but they’ll attack in waves. Over time, they’ll get stronger and more plentiful.”

“Understood,” I said.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Start up your ship.”

The cockpit went dark, dimming to minimal lighting. So they were going to follow me from the pre-startup phase, huh? I started up the main generator and immediately raised its output to battle mode. Outer space spread before me as the simulator began in earnest. It was crazy how realistic it looked.

The cockpit’s artificial intelligence announced, “Unknown warships have appeared. Their weapons are online.”

I activated my weapons in turn and deftly rotated my ship toward the enemy. Then I slammed on the accelerator. The g-force immediately shoved me back into my seat.

“Whoa! It even replicates g-forces when you accelerate.” What kind of crazy tech were they using for this? If this universe was the same as Stella Online then artificial gravity generators should exist. It had to be something like that.

An enemy turned sluggishly to face my ship, and I took a bite out of their flank. Four weapon arms emerged from the Krishna. I squeezed the trigger and four beams of light flashed, piercing the enemy’s hull. The ship exploded an instant later.

“Wow, they’re weak,” I said. The slow, plodding enemy ship looked like a transport vessel based on its large cargo size. Was that really the best they had? More enemy ships appeared, but none of the weak, slow, frail crafts stood any chance against me. This was like shooting fish in a barrel. When would I get to show off my real skills?

“Heh. The newbie evaluation program ain’t nothin’ to you, huh?” The receptionist sounded impressed.

“My ship’s just way better than theirs,” I said.

“Yeah, also true. Anyway, let’s start a new program.”

“Understood.”

We tried the next evaluation. It was a little better than the first, but the enemy still lumbered at me, slow and weak, little better than those pirates from four days ago, honestly.

“They’re so weak that it’s hardly satisfying to blow them up.” I was getting disappointed now.

“Buddy…that’s the veteran training program.”

“Ha ha ha! That’s a funny joke. Got anything harder?”

“Yeah, but…I don’t think this is gonna work out.”

Finally, some worthwhile opponents appeared. Ten space pirates rushed at me from the very start and they were armed with real weapons this time, firepower that was actually strong enough to make me sweat a little. Live ammunition and explosives were easy enough to deal with though, as long as I was careful. I didn’t need to fret about the lasers. They might as well have been pea shooters for all the punch they packed. The final light cruiser provided me with a bit of entertainment, at least until I slipped into his blind spot and annihilated him.

“That was a little satisfying, I guess,” I said. Finally, a decent fight. Was that their most difficult level? Surely there was more.

“You gotta be kidding me!” the receptionist said. “Uh, well… Okay. Test’s over.”

“Understood.” Well, that was easy. How would they evaluate me, though? It definitely didn’t seem like I’d failed, judging by the receptionist’s reaction.

I swiftly cut the generator’s output, stopped the simulation, and hopped out of the cockpit. The receptionist and Elma waited for me at the entrance, mouths hanging agape. They blinked at me like they thought I might be a simulation myself.

“How’d I do?” I asked.

“Let’s talk about it back up front.”

Well, that was vague. Couldn’t he just tell me the result? Elma probably didn’t know either, but she kept staring at me with this weird look. What was going on here? Confused, I followed them back into the lobby.

“Uh, so let’s start with your test score,” the receptionist began.

“Yup.”

“You’ve passed.”

“That’s a good thing, right? Why the long face?” I said.

“Mercenaries are given ranks,” he said.

“Oh?” This piqued my interest. Was it like those adventurer ranks people get in isekai novels? Was I about to get A-rank or S-rank here? Nice.

“So, there are combat ranks that give straightforward evaluations of your strength as a merc. We have iron, bronze, silver, gold, and platinum. Iron’s the worst, platinum’s the best,” the receptionist said.

“I see. And?” I urged.

“The test you just took is the gold advancement test.”

“Go on.”

“And you passed it, but we can’t just give you gold right off the bat.”

“That makes sense.” There was no fun in starting at the very top. This ranking system wasn’t part of Stella Online. I wanted to take my time and actually enjoy it.

“You can’t hit gold rank without some kind of achievement,” the receptionist said. “Are you picking up what I’m putting down?”

“So far,” I replied.

“We’re gonna start you off with bronze, provisionally. Basically, think of it like we’re giving you your real rank after you replicate what you did in that simulation.”

“Forget gold,” I said. “If I start that high, I lose all the fun of climbing the ladder.”

“O-oh, okay.” The receptionist looked weirded out. Elma was glaring daggers at me.

What’s the big deal? Cut it out and start being nice to me. I’m just an innocent little newbie!

The receptionist continued, “Anyway, the rank is temporary, and you’re formally registered now. The guild acts as a backer for you, and you act as a draw for the guild. Make sure you don’t forget that.”

“You’re not gonna explain the bylaws for me?” I asked, a little annoyed.

“Nah, too much effort. Read ’em yourself. I’ll send you a message.”

“What a hard worker you are.” Whatever. It probably wasn’t urgent, and I’d get to it eventually. “And why is the Great and Wise Elma in such a poor mood?”

“Silver,” she said curtly.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been doing this for five years and I’m silver.”

“Oh, uhh?” I glanced at the receptionist.

He looked away and said, “You’ll probably get bumped to silver after one mission.”

“Ah. Mmm.” Welp, this was awkward as heck.

“Grr…” Elma grumbled.

“No matter what rank I get, you’re still the senior!” I said. “Remember, Elma, I’d be unlicensed if not for you. I still don’t know left from right. I’m a mere slug who doesn’t even know where to get groceries! Elma, I’m counting on you!”

“R-really?” she said. “Then fine. Let’s actually go get those groceries now. As your senior, I will teach you where they are.” This poor little space elf was so easily fooled by my empty, obvious praise. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Yaaay. You’re so cool.” More empty praise from me.

The receptionist cut in. “If you want a map of the colony—”

But I interrupted him. “We’re off!” I made a hasty escape with Elma in tow. Careful, guy! Don’t put her in a bad mood again or I’m lost… Although I guess I wouldn’t have to worry about that if I had taken that map he offered. Eh, whatever. Better to just go with the flow.

As we headed back out into the colony, Elma explained everything she knew about being a mercenary in the Tarmein System. Tons of pirates set their sights on merchant and resource-mining ships here. Being close to the border of the Belbellum Federation also made it a hot spot for mercenaries.

“Also,” Elma added, “they’ve been talking about large-scale pirate crackdowns lately, so mercs are flocking to this star system. And you came here without knowing that?”

“Yep. Like I said before, I drifted in because of an accident. I guess even my life support system was throwing up errors because my memories are super fuzzy. Thank goodness my ship was safe.” Okay, the memory thing was a lie, but she’d think I was crazy if I claimed to be from another dimension. Besides, this would explain why I didn’t know the basics of this universe. It was a solid cover story.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Elma sounded concerned. “I hear some people up and die out of nowhere after accidents like that. Maybe you should get examined at a medical station sometime soon.”

“Whoa, really? I should look into that.” The accident was a fabrication, but a thorough medical checkup could still be a good idea. After all, I had no idea how I’d ended up here. I decided to put “go to a medical station and get examined” on my long to-do list.

Elma pointed ahead. “Oh, there’s the grocery store!”

“That’s it?”

A big sign on the front of the shop proclaimed it Oishii Mart. It was a strikingly…blunt name. It’s just the Japanese word for “tasty!”

“That’s a lame name,” I said.

“Really? I hear it’s from an old language.”

“Is that so?”

Which part of the name is the old part? I had to wonder, but I decided not to probe too deeply. It had to be the Oishii part. This universe didn’t seem to use Japanese anymore. Wait, wait, wait. I’m speaking Japanese right now. How am I able to communicate with these people? I asked Elma about it, and she explained that all intelligent life carried around devices that let them understand each other. According to her, that was just a totally normal part of life.

“Did you really forget that? Your amnesia must be bad,” she said.

“Seems like it.” I shrugged.

“Seriously, are you okay? I’m actually getting worried about you.” The poor little space elf looked genuinely concerned. What a wound to my pride. “Just be careful. Let’s go on in.”

“Sure.”

I stepped into the store, pausing to take it in. Canned food was lined up on shelves, alongside breakfast bars, tube-shaped nutritional supplements, and food cartridges. I also saw something too weird to possibly be food and disgusting creatures preserved in formaldehyde.

“They’ve got a lot,” I mused. The whole place was packed, every shelf full.

“Yup. What do you wanna buy?”

“I don’t know. What’s good? Got any recommendations?”

“If you’ve got a cooker, why not just buy cartridges?” Elma suggested. “And if you’ve got some extra spending money, you could go for artificial meat.”

“Artificial meat…?” That sounded weird.

“That’s what I said. It’s efficiently-cultured protein. The stuff’s a lot more expensive than other food, but it tastes great.”

“What about normal meat and veggies?”

“Only the richest of the rich eat that stuff. Mercs make a lot, but it’s not typically in our budget.”

“Wow, that’s crazy,” I said.

So livestock meat and cultured vegetables were high-class foods here. I supposed that made sense. After all, it couldn’t be easy building a farm on a space colony.

Elma stared at me rather dubiously and asked, “If the phrase ‘normal meat and veggies’ comes to you that easy, does that mean you’re some kind of spoiled rich boy?”

“Hell if I know. My memories are too vague. Do I look like one?” I shrugged helplessly.

She shook her head, unconvinced. “Nah, I guess not. Still weird, though.”

“Then I guess I’m not a rich boy.”

I picked a few more groceries at Elma’s recommendation. I could also order water here. Though it was a little expensive, I splurged for some of that artificial meat, too. Apart from that, I stuck to food cartridges and non-perishables such as breakfast bars, along with some liquid food in tubes. She also suggested picking up some of that jerky-like stuff.

“How about the canned food?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t. If you open that in zero gravity, it could be a disaster.” Yikes, so the moment you open it, it spews everywhere, huh?

“Got any carbonated drinks?” I said.

“Carbonated? What’s that?” she said.

“Wha? Uh, I mean, like soda. Some people call it pop. It’s sweet, fizzy, and the best thing ever created.” Please, please let her recognize soda at least.

“Um?” Elma cocked her head in confusion. Oh God, she really had never heard of soda!

“Okay, so you know about flavored drinks, right?” I started over.

“Yep! There are tons of flavors.”

“You take that and you add carbonic acid—to carbonate it—and it makes the drink all fizzy.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” she said.

“What?!” Did carbonated drinks seriously not exist in this universe? I tried asking one of the grocery store workers, but they just apologized and gave me the same line as Elma.

“God is dead,” I muttered in defeat.

“You sound like some religious nut who just lost his faith,” Elma said.

In all the galaxy, not a single carbonated drink. Not one. No, wait. Didn’t I read an article once about how you can’t drink soda on a spaceship? Maybe it was the lack of gravity. Maybe it was the air pressure. Either way, it seemed the complications had made my beloved soda obsolete in this universe.

But wait, shouldn’t you still be able to drink soda in a place with normal gravity and air pressure? Why not drink it in a colony? Was there a problem with the pseudo-gravity they made using centrifugal force? I didn’t know. My brain couldn’t even begin to conceive of it. Okay, what about a normal house on a planet, then? Maybe soda would be popular there?

“I’ve decided.” Steeling my resolve, I declared, “I’m going to buy a detached house in a nice residential area on a planet.”

“Wow, that’s sudden,” Elma said. “What about this carbonation stuff made you want to do that? Neighborhoods on planets are really expensive. I mean, in the Grakkan Empire, only the top-class citizens have the right to own land. I hear you need hundreds of millions of Ener to buy that right.”

“You must be shitting me. That’s enough to buy a whale-class cruiser.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “An imperial soldier told me that.”

Hundreds of millions of Ener? That was too much, but I really wanted some soda! “Well, a man needs lofty goals.”

“Do what you want, buddy.”

Elma may have shrugged, but this was a life-or-death problem for me, one I intended to figure out.

I ordered my food and water. Most of it got sent to my ship, though I had a little bagged so I could snack before we left the store. I even played it cool and paid for Elma’s order, though all she got was a drink.