Zero

By Simon Haynes

How far would you go to make your dreams come true?

On Hal Spacejock's home planet, efficient and highly intelligent robots have taken all the jobs.

Hal's one of the lucky ones, because he works as a cargo loader at a third-rate spaceport.

Lucky perhaps, but not satisfied. Because instead of loading freighters, Hal wants to fly them, exploring the galaxy in his very own ship.

But how can he possibly save for a spaceship? Hal can barely make rent, and his boss will use any excuse to get rid of him.

It all seems like an impossible dream, until Hal intervenes in a one-sided fight in the shadow of a battered old freighter...

Zero is a standalone novel in the Hal Spacejock series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Haynes
• Release date: Dec 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005716790

Simon Haynes

Simon Haynes lives in Western Australia, where he divides his time between herding deadly spiders, dodging drop bears, and making up wildly inaccurate sentences like this one.By day he's an author. By night he's also an author.He loves wry, dry humour, and his hobbies include daringly inserting the letter U into words where -- in some parts of the world at least -- this simply isn't the done thing.As for his genre-spanning novels, they include epic fantasy (with robots), scifi comedy (also with robots), middle grade humour (featuring robots AND the wanton use of the letter U), as well as a series of historical mystery novels set in 1870's London. (No, of course there aren't robots in those. He's not completely out of his mind.)When he's not writing Simon is usually renovating his house, sim-racing online, using twitter (@spacejock), gardening, tweaking his book covers, pondering the meaning of the universe and reading, and if you think it's easy doing all that at the same time you should see what he can do with a mug of coffee, a banana and a large bag of salt.When he's not making outlandish claims he likes to count how many novels he's written, and how many genres he's written them in. (Lots and too many.)Finally, if you want to hear Simon reading one of his award-winning stories, you'll find an enticement to join his newsletter here: spacejock.com.au/ML.html

Book preview

Hal Zero - A Prequel

Book zero in the Hal Spacejock series

Copyright © Simon Haynes

Release v 1.0

Bowman Press

Bowman Press

Written and published using yWriter by Spacejock Software

Stock images © depositphotos.com

3D models © cgtrader.com

This novel, like the author, employs British spelling.

Hal Spacejock's dream of buying a ship and exploring the galaxy is an impossible, unachievable fantasy.

But then he intervenes in a one-sided fight in the shadow of a battered old freighter…

This prequel covers events leading up to Hal Spacejock 1: A Robot Named Clunk.

Gain an insight into Hal's life before he became a freighter pilot, and discover why he dislikes robots so much.

Chapter 1

Show yourself, Employee 8118! thundered the huge robot. Show yourself, or I'll hunt you down and cut you into a thousand pieces!

The target of the robot's anger was not having a good day. Employee 8118 had slept in, his coffee machine had broken down — again — and he'd forgotten to bring a packed lunch to work. But those were the least of his problems. Right now, his biggest worry was the bad-tempered robot intent on terminating him. It was hunting its prey between the stacks of cargo in the dimly-lit warehouse, moving silently on its big rubber-shod feet. Employee 8118 couldn't hear the thing, but knew where it was all right. Baleful green laser beams shone from the robot's targeting system, gleaming between wooden crates and metal containers, finding and examining every little hidey hole.

The robot's prey was crouching behind a crate, and not even the promise of paid overtime, a mug of coffee and a decent lunch would have convinced him to stand up and show himself to the angry killing machine. Then he heard a whining noise nearby, and he backed around the crate, keeping it between himself and the approaching sound. For all he knew it was the sound of leg motors, or elbow actuators, or a big fist getting ready to crush him.

But no, it was just a knee-high inspection droid going about its business, with a glowing thinscreen clasped in a tiny, claw-like hand. Little robots like this one didn't bother Employee 8118 in the slightest. It was the big one he was worried about.

Thud.

Employee 8118 swallowed nervously, because this noise was directly behind him.

Got you, you sneaky little ape, thundered a voice, and before Employee 8118 could run for it, or beg for his life, or burst into tears and plead insanity, something grabbed the back of his overalls and hauled him off his feet. Dangling from the giant robot's fist, his feet a metre off the ground, Employee 8118 realised this was it. He'd avoided the inevitable for as long as possible, but his time was finally up.

The big face got closer and closer, the gleaming red eyes sparking with fury, the heavy jaw working hard. Then it carried out its threat. Hal Spacejock, you will report to the personnel office this instant, growled the robot. "As of now, you are terminated!"

— ★ —

I don't understand, protested Hal, as he dangled from the robot's massive hand. Why am I being fired this time?

"You don't know? the robot bellowed at him. Did you or did you not organise the loading of vessel 298-XF2?"

I may or may not have, admitted Hal, who hadn't the faintest idea. Why couldn't his supervisor use ship names like everyone else? Oh no, the big ugly robot just had to come up with its own numbering system. No wonder a load of crates may or may not have ended up in the wrong cargo hold.

You will not be surprised to hear that you loaded the cargo destined for 298-XF2-B instead, growled the robot supervisor.

Won't I? Did I?

Yes and yes! The robot crashed its fist down on a crate, almost splitting the lid open. These mistakes are intolerable! You are by far the worst employee in the entire facility, and if it wasn't for the labour laws I would have replaced you with a robot weeks ago. And just look at the state of you! Dust on your clothes, leaky pores from head to toe, and all that disease-harbouring, cell-shedding skin and hair. It's disgusting!

Hal kept his hair short, but even if he'd waxed every inch of his body and bathed six times per day his supervisor still would have complained. Truth is, the big robot didn't like humans, and it really didn't like Hal.

Well? Why are you hanging around arguing? Go and fix your mistake! The robot pushed its giant face into Hal's. "Fix it NOW!"

I can't.

The robot's metal lips thinned, and waves of heat jetted from the vents either side of its neck. What?

You just sacked me, Hal pointed out. I can't fix the mistake if I'm sacked, can I? I don't work for you any more. For a split second he thought he'd gone too far, because his supervisor began to make a strange hissing sound very much like the fuse on a stick of dynamite. But then, slowly, the robot tilted its head as it considered the contradiction, and Hal's spirits rose as he realised he was still in with a chance. Tell you what, he said, in his most reasonable, easygoing voice. I'll work the rest of the week for no wages.

Done, said the robot instantly. It opened its huge fingers, letting Hal drop to the floor. Now go and fix your mistake before I change my mind. And do not even think about clocking off until you've finished!

Yessir! Hal scurried away from his angry boss with mixed feelings. This would be his third week without pay, and he'd only started a month ago. On the bright side he still had a job, which was more than he could say for most. By the time humans reached an age of thirty-five they were considered too old for retraining, at least on this planet. Hal was still three or four years away from that particular milestone, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Once you hit thirty-five, the only jobs left were those considered too dangerous or dirty even for robots.

Chapter 2

Hal jogged between the rows and rows of crates that filled the enormous warehouse, avoiding the cargo bots scurrying about with armfuls of goods. The bots were supposed to avoid him, but as the only human employed by the spaceport's cargo facility he was used to getting run over, bumped into or completely ignored. It wasn't so much that the robots disliked him, although he knew they'd rust solid before throwing him a surprise birthday party. No, it was the fact they saw him as some kind of legacy device. He was the decades-old music player with the old fashioned connector. The input peripheral with the frayed cable and the wonky buttons. The portable computer with barely enough processing power to tell the time.

In a word, he was human, and humans were obsolete.

When a freighter landed, its hold bulging with cargo, two dozen robots would charge inside, emerging seconds later carrying five times the weight Hal could manage on his own. They would come zooming back for more while he was still struggling down the ramp with his first load. They usually finished the entire job while he was still staggering across the landing field, wishing his boss would spring for a hand trolley.

Oh, for a position in management, thought Hal. A job where he could spend his working days ordering the robots about and drinking endless mugs of coffee. Except, of course, management was entirely staffed by robots.

Hal sidestepped a speeding, bullet-headed bot and continued towards the landing field, lost in thought. He'd held his current job for a whole month, which was something of a record. The pay was lousy, when he got any, and the hours were long, but like most humans these days he didn't have a whole lot of choice. Anything he could do, a robot could do faster, better and cheaper, and he couldn't afford to be choosy.

Bloody robots, growled Hal, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt a dozen eyes upon him. Glancing around, he saw that every robot within a hundred metres was looking at him, even as they sped around completing their work. Hal ducked his head to avoid the battery of blank stares, and was heartily relieved when he finally made the exit.

The suns were shining, and at least four of the planet's moons were strung across the sky like cosmic billiard balls. Hal was used to the sight and paid it no attention. Instead, he turned to look at the nearby row of freighters sitting on their landing pads. He wasn't allowed breaks, but sometimes he managed to sneak away from his supervisor for a few minutes, and he'd spend that precious time gazing at the ships. He liked to watch them arriving, and he liked to look at them sitting on their landing pads, where ground crew — robots, of course — would attach refuelling lines and check the hulls for damage.

Most of all, he liked to watch the freighters thundering into the sky as they left the planet. He imagined himself on board one of them, perhaps concealed in the cargo hold. Or even sitting in the cockpit, watching the pilot in action. Sometimes, when Hal was really feeling down, he imagined himself at the controls of one of those ships, ferrying cargo between planets, earning loads of cash and never, ever having to share his work environment with a whining, whirring, robot with its air of superiority and its smell of hot electronics.

Bloody robots, he muttered again, but this time he whispered it under his breath.

There was a rumble nearby, and a cloud of dust, fumes and smoke billowed across the landing field towards him. Through slitted eyes, Hal saw a ship running its engines up, and he slowed his pace to watch. Sniffing the air, he allowed himself a smile. He adored the smell of burnt fuel, even though he suspected he might be dissolving his lungs with every breath.

As the roar grew louder, the wash from the departing freighter's jets threatened to knock him off his feet and roll him all the way back into the warehouse. Hal was forced to clamp his hands to his ears, small stones and dust plucking painfully at his face and neck, but he ignored these minor discomforts and thrilled to