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When no one else stepped up, Marie decided to choose their next destination.
She consulted the bulk map, and cross-referenced it with an updated copy of
the central archives, landing on a colony once more thanks to its funny
name. The database listed it as the Patsy Richelieu Best First Quarter Star.
Not even Ramses or Leona understood why it would be called that, and they
decided not to bother trying to figure it out before they left. It seemed
innocuous enough. They weren’t going unprepared, however. Ramses designed a
go-bag filled with essential survival items, like multitools, a first aid
kit, and a dayfruit starter pack. It also contained hardened, but dormant
and shielded, electronics in case they ran into another issue. The chances
of what happened on the last planet happening again weren’t high, but they
were not zero. He wanted to be prepared. Romana wanted to carry it, still
feeling guilty about last time.
They slung to the coordinates, finding themselves falling towards some kind
of planet. “Not habitable,” Mateo announced, looking at his sensors. “Not
naturally.”
“I’m not picking up any artificial structures on the surface,” Leona said,
“but we can’t see the other side. Still, there are no radio signals, which
makes some sense. It’s a super-terrestrial. The surface gravity is highly
variable, but about 8.7G.”
“Maybe we ought to jump to that manmade object up there,” Angela warned,
“unless we want to plummet to our deaths in the atmosphere.”
They jumped to the ship, but not inside of it. Leona cleared her throat
after she opened a channel. “Orbiting vessel. This is Captain Leona Matic of
Team Matic. We mean you no harm. Could we have permission to board?”
A woman’s voice replied, “come on in! I made bundt cake!”
An airlock opened. They floated inside, and waited for the hatch to close
behind them, then for the airlock to repressurize. The inner door opened.
The woman was waiting for them, holding her plate. She was wearing a white
tank top and a tennis skirt, like an off-duty college cheerleader. “Welcome
to our home, new friends. My name is Patsy Richelieu. I’m in charge around
here.” She took another bite. “How did you arrive? My logs didn’t record
someone using the quantum terminal, though it is open to public
access, so maybe I set the preferences wrong. I’m not an engineer.”
“I can check it out for you,” Ramses offered. “You probably have it set
right. We came in through a nearby terminal, then flew here manually.”
“Oh, what fun,” Patsy decided. “Hungry?”
“We could eat,” Mateo answered. Everyone out here just wanted some
intelligent connection, didn’t they? No one needed saviors or rescuers. Just
good old fashioned human conversation. “Could we ask...the name of your
star?”
“Oh, haha,” Patsy began as she was leading them down the corridors. I
started a new job as a saleswoman in July of 2026. I had no experience; even
fibbed a little on my résumé, but I was a natural talent. I had the best
first quarter on the job of anyone in company history at the time. My boss
awarded me with this star at the company retreat.”
“Oh, it was one of those name-a-star scams. I mean—sorry,” Leona apologized.
“You obviously managed to convert it into a real claim after five hundred
years.”
Patsy giggled. “Don’t you fret. I thought it was stupid at the time too, but
it did mean something, because the company didn’t approve it. My boss had to
pay for it with her own money, and the closer stars are much more expensive.
They made me feel at home, which I honestly didn’t expect. I had been
searching for a job, not a career. I ended up retiring from that same
position after 44 years of service. Do you know money? Were you alive back
then?”
“We were,” Marie answered.
Patsy nodded, then went on, “then humanity invented AI, net positive fusion,
and anti-aging technologies, and it started to feel less ridiculous. Over
the centuries, I kept this place in the back of my mind, and once Project
Stargate reached this far into the galaxy, I decided I might as well lay
claim to what a piece of paper and a $250 bill said I already owned.” It
didn’t validate the entire scam, but at least this one person got what she
paid for. Pretty cheap for an entire solar system. It looked like there was
nothing for them to do here either, though. Their new paradigm of not being
useful would continue. They could eat cake, and that was about it.
Nevertheless, if this woman was lonely, maybe that would be enough.
As they were following her down the corridors, they started to hear chatter.
A set of doors slid open, revealing a huge crowd of people in a mess hall,
also wearing surprisingly sexy outfits, and also eating cake. They started
cheering, and saying things like “hey, Patsy! and “Patsy’s back!”
“Forgive me,” Leona began, “but are they NPCs? I don’t mean to be rude.”
“No, they’re independent,” Patsy assured them. I have a lot of friends. I’m
very friendly. I met most of these people on the quantum boards. They all
wanted to do something weird, and there’s nothing weirder than living around
a star called Patsy Richelieu Best First Quarter. Like I was saying, I have
an open-door policy.”
“So, you don’t need anything?” Mateo pressed. “Everyone’s okay?”
“Yeah, why? What did you hear?” Patsy asked as she was licking the last of
the frosting off of her fork.
“Nothing. That’s just what we do, going around making sure the colonies are
all right,” Mateo answered.
She smiled, as she twirled the fork against her teeth. “Why, you’re even
friendlier than I am, aren’t ya?” She faced her people. “Hey, everyone!
These guys are part of some kind of volunteer colony outreach program! Isn’t
that sweet!”
They cheered again.
“Well, we don’t need anything,” Patsy explained, “but we could always use a
few more smiling faces. That’s the only rule. You have to smile.”
The seven of them kind of already thought they were smiling, but they forced
themselves to make it more blatant.
“We’ll work on it,” Patsy decided. “Go, sit down. It’s time to eat!”
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