Calling a StarSkipper
by Ian Li
Zet glanced down at the defunct Agana cargo port, a moon-sized graveyard of rusted freighters and discarded shipping containers. It wasn’t hard to find the customer they were looking for—there was only one man on the entire station, waving frantically. Zet eased up on the throttle, and maneuvered their compact little spacecraft onto the nearest dock. This customer better make it worth their while. The front thrusters on their ship sputtered when braking, but repair costs were exorbitant nowadays.
The man heaved himself onto Zet’s backseat, which groaned under the abuse. “Took you long enough.”
“You’re lucky you got picked up at all.” Zet tapped “Start Trip” on their StarSkipper app. “I wouldn’t have gotten your request if I didn’t have this extended range receiver. Most pilots don’t even consider out-of-system fares.”
“Hey, I’m paying a hefty out-of-system surcharge, so just be grateful.”
Grateful. Funny coming from a man that calls up a pilot to schlep all this way to an abandoned port outside the system. But Zet refrained from ripping into him, and instead pulled up StarSkipper’s estimated payout. Their eyes glittered. Not bad. “So… what brought you out here?”
This seemed to set the man off. “It was one of those damned self-piloting ships! I flagged one down to take me to planet Neftet, but it must have malfunctioned and dragged me all the way out here.”
“This far off route? You didn’t notice along the way?”
“If I learn the routes and navigate myself, what would I be paying you guys for?” the man huffed.
“Well geez. Can’t trust those A.I. services, am I right? You remember what company that self-piloting ship was from?”
“Must have been Cometspeed or Speedcomet or something. What does it matter?”
“I just figure you could complain.”
“You bet I complained. Escalated to their manager too.” The man’s face turned red like a pilot’s sunburn—a common affliction suffered by pilots who couldn’t afford adequate solar radiation shielding. “Got a refund. But they wouldn’t compensate for my pain and suffering. Then they banned me after I shared some choice words regarding their business practices. I should sue them.”
“That sucks.” Zet didn’t know how else to respond.
When they landed on Neftet, the man punched open the ship’s hatch with a clang. Zet spurted out a half-hearted “Thanks for riding with StarSkipper.” But the man had already left without a word of thanks.
After taking off, Zet’s app pinged with a notification. Rating: three stars. Feedback: “terrible listener.”
At a sleepy rest stop, Zet parked next to the Speedycomet self-piloting ship. “Hey bud. Mind if I take a look at the vid of that last customer?”
Speedycomet played back its recording, showing the same man that Zet just dropped off. He walked up to the ship, yelling at a young woman about the poor quality of the snack he just purchased. As soon as he boarded, the man tore it open and tossed the sticky wrapper on the floor. Not long after, the ship quietly changed its destination from Neftet to the Agana cargo port. When Speedycomet booted the man off at Agana, it announced its arrival with a beep that Zet thought sounded halfway between a chuckle and a “fuck you.”
“What a piece of work that guy was. You couldn’t have picked a better mark. Brilliant choice of destination too. I’ve never even heard of that old cargo port.” Zet transferred half of their earlier spoils to the self-piloting ship’s coffers. “That out-of-system fee was juicy. Great work, bud.” As Speedycomet zoomed off, Zet turned on their extended range receiver, waiting for the tantalizing ding of another out-of-system StarSkipper fare.
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Ian Li (he/him) is a Chinese-Canadian economist, developer, writer, and poet, who started writing in late 2023 after a lifetime of believing he could never be creative. He also enjoys spreadsheets, statistical curiosities, and brain teasers. Find his work published in Nightmare Magazine, Small Wonders, and Strange Horizons, among other venues. Learn more at https://ian-li.com or find him on Bluesky @ianli.bsky.social.