The Second To Last Human Alive

Chapter 7 - The One Thing Money Can't Buy

“Alright settle down ladies, gentlemen and things, settle down. I can only answer one question at a time,” said the richest man in the world. He grinned a grin designed by a focus group and blessed by two marketing voudons. He spoke clearly, with a soothing baritone and directly into the recording devices.

“Alright, you,” he said, pointing.

“Zephrim Hype, Free Mars Feed, I think the real question on everyone’s mind is: why, exactly, are you going to blow up the Earth 8?”

The reporters began to kick up another cacophony of questions, yapping at the wealthy man like nuhyenas. It was getting to be as though a man couldn’t even destroy a planet that was getting in his way without reporters descending on him like scavenging animals.

“I said settle. I cannot answer questions while you’re-”

The noise ceased at once. The reporters wanted to hear what possible explanation this man could have for his recently announced decision to destroy his home planet.

“Thank you. Now firstly, I did not say I am going to destroy the planet Earth 8. I am firing a beam of tremendous energy in a trajectory that will cause it to collide with Earth 8. I am announcing this ahead of time so that Earth 8 can move out of the way if it doesn’t wish to be destroyed. My lawyers assure me this carries none of the legal liabilities associated with intentionally destroying the planet.”

The reporters began to speak at once again.

“Okay you,” the rich man said, picking another.

“How do you respond,” the reporter paused, choosing her words carefully “how do you respond to criticisms that Earth 8 can’t move itself, and that what you’re doing is tantamount to mass murder on an unimaginable scale?”

The richest man in the world sniffed loudly. The reporter had crossed a line. If they couldn’t let their personal feelings color their questioning they had no business being reporters.

“This press conference is over!” he announced. His hologram dissolved. 

*  *  *

Herk initiated another scan, as though the third time really was the charm, and this scan would reveal what the previous two had failed to determine: just what, exactly, he was looking at. The ship was old, very old, it had been in deep space for centuries. It appeared to be of human design but it was far too technologically advanced for the time period it would have to have originated from. Herk realized this was a true scientific discovery, possibly of great historical significance, so if he wanted to strip it of everything valuable  he’d have to do so quickly.

Herk gathered the rest of his crew, his brother Whorl and their associate Tedious “Ted” McKenzieson. These two weren’t allowed near any of the delicate equipment, they spent most of the time between salvage runs in the cargo bay, breaking things and attempting to play cards. They were both valued chiefly for their skill at carrying lots of stuff at once and for their diminished moral compasses.

The three donned spacesuits and materialized onto the ancient starship. The life support seemed to be functioning, but Herk didn’t like to take a lot of chances.

“Okay, the life support seems to be functioning,” said Herk “You can take off you helmet Ted.”

Tedious did so, and after a few minutes without his head exploding or eyes melting, Herk followed suit. Whorl didn’t know how to react. On the one hand, he hadn’t been told to take off his helmet, but on the other hand everyone else had. Herk snapped him out of his existential dilemma.

“Fine, leave your helmet on if you want,”

Whorl did so.

The three deep salvagers walked down the cramped hallway leading to the bridge of the ship. Their footsteps echoed hollow through the emptiness.

The door to the bridge was sealed off. This was not a problem, a typical salvage operation had any number of precise tools that could cleanly open such a door. Of course, when one is in a hurry and one sold 2/7th of one’s brain to pay for hooch, one is apt to find unorthodox solutions to one’s problems.