Glitch

By Drew Avera

More ridiculous than Spaceballs!
From the pages of the Pew! Pew! anthologies come the complete adventures of Ben and his "friend" Chip, for the first time in a single, full-length novel format.

Just when Ben's contemplating whether he can use his robotic arm to strangle himself, he sees an ad promoting a new mining colony on Europa. A new life, good pay, and respect await him if he can just get there from Mars. The hot girl in the ad may have helped, too.
But space isn't a place for the weak, or the terminally unlucky, and when calamity strikes right out of the gate, Ben starts to think getting to Europa may take a farking miracle.
The Glitchover: After a devastatingly crushing, utterly suicidal, incredibly stupid trip to Europa, Ben returns to Earth embarrassed and defeated. But Earth isn't the home he left behind. In orbit, a mass of darkness looms threateningly, and it is the only thing standing between Ben and surviving.
Running out of food on his ship, the Shistain, becomes the least of his problems as he grows ill eating tainted Vienna sausages only to discover that aliens have invaded the planet and it is up to Ben to save the world.
With his first mate Chip, a gay sex robot, he rushes toward Earth between hellish bouts with nausea and crippling hallucinations. In order to survive the ordeal, Ben must put his life in the hands of an android struggling with a corrupt software update that makes him hornier than a 14-year-old boy at cheerleader camp.
What could go wrong? For Ben, potentially everything.
Glitches Wild: With Lady Luck on his side, Ben doesn't need any enemies. In a game of high stakes, he puts in all on the line, and probably loses.
They said he was lucky to be alive, that surviving his perilous journey and ultimate crash was a blessing in disguise. Ben isn't one to agree, though, as he tries to up his "reward" in order to facilitate repairs to his ship, the Shistain, in a poker match against Buck Rodgers, the richest man in West Virginia. Ben soon discovers that poker isn't his game as he loses his ass in more ways than one. But maybe there's a silver lining to being the unluckiest man on Earth. Or maybe that's the lie he holds onto to help him sleep at night. Either way, with Lady Luck on his side, Ben doesn't need any enemies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Avera
• Release date: Apr 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223866268

Drew Avera

I am an active duty navy veteran. I'm married with two kids and I live in Virginia. My first book, Dead Planet, was released in March 2013.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Rain fell like water shooting from a fire hose as Benjamin Dale made his way to the terminal. Ever since the New York burnings, the city looked darker, and the rain clouds weren’t helping in Ben’s opinion. He ran his hand through his sopping wet hair and felt the cool water flow down the back of his neck and under his shirt, sending shivers down his spine. There was a better day to conduct this kind of business, but Ben was in a hurry. He already had to wait for the weekend, a stupid three-day holiday where the government shut down while the rest of the living had to make do without any of the support departments affected by the mandatory day off. It was Liberty Day, a completely contrived holiday in the vein of Independence Day, but earned by the vanity of the rise of a third political party some two-hundred years prior. The fact that party ceased to exist—or any party for that matter—was not lost on him. Perhaps the government just likes taking the unnecessary time off, Ben thought, but time is money and it’s about time I start making mine.

The terminal doors were locked, preventing him from getting out of the rain. He looked in through the shaded glass doors and saw the employees gathered around, shaking their dicks or whatever they liked to call it when they stood around talking about nothing. Ben grumbled as he looked at his watch. Five minutes, he said loudly, hoping his voice would carry through the thick bulletproof glass. You can’t give me five farking minutes?

One of the men looked at him, a large, friendly smile on his face, and simply waved. He may as well have tossed up his middle finger and dropped a turd on the floor; at least then Ben would have felt like he was being taken seriously. As it was, he thought they were keeping the doors locked for spite. Useless government employees, he muttered, turning to look at the cityscape as the rain poured violently onto the pavement. Puddles formed, rippling as the raindrops pummeled into the growing pools. The hushing sound of the rain falling sounded like the faint groans of faraway jet engines to Ben’s ears, reminding him of why he was here and why it was important to stay instead of giving up in defeat. Today is the day my life is going to change for the better.

Ben’s watch chirped. It was eight-o’clock in the morning and time for the terminal to open. He turned to look at the same disinterested crowd conversing, minus one of the members who now walked towards the front door leading into the building. Of course, the man had to open the door on the other side of the entrance from Ben. Jerk, he thought as the smiling man came to the door and inserted the key, fumbling with it for several seconds before successfully unlocking it.

I’m sorry for your wait, sir, the man said, a thick accent revealing he was a European immigrant.

If you were sorry, you would have opened this door first, Ben said sardonically as he walked past the man and his plastic, government issued smile.

The man said something politely indignant, but he was already too far from him to hear what it was; or to even care. He made his way to the Port Authority counter, his boots squishing with every step. The chubby old man at the counter wore a New American flag on his lapel along with an Army Veteran pin clasped onto his tie. He had the faraway stare of a man more preoccupied with his own thoughts than of things currently happening around him, but he greeted Ben as the young man came to a stop.

Yes, sir, how can I help you?

Prior Army? Ben asked.

The old man nodded. I was infantry, did my time ‘til they took my leg. I would’ve gave more, but it’s hard to fight when you’re hobbling along, bleeding all over the place.

Ben smiled. Yeah, I gave them my arm and they gave me this gli+chy piece of work for my troubles. He lifted his prosthetic; the synchro motors whirring as he modeled it to the older gentleman.

Nice. Better than the boot-pole they gave me. It costs high-dollar to get the good stuff. He lifted his pants leg and showed what decent money could buy. The farking payment costs almost as much as my rent, but at least I can walk without wanting to eat a bullet. What are you here for? the question reminded Ben of the reason he spent half an hour in the rain getting pissed on by the weather.

I need an off-world permit.

The man nodded and scrolled his fingers along the tablet in front of him. Reason for travel?

Business.

The man looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. You don’t look like a contractor or a scientist, kid. I need a little more information if you expect to get a permit from me.

Ben hesitated, but answered the man anyway. I read up on a new business venture the other day. There’s a company that started up a mining colony on Europa to harvest ice to take back to Mars for the terraforming initiative. The first ones there get to stake their claim first and I plan on being in the front of the line.

The man shook his head. I don’t know anything about a mining colony on Europa. Are you sure?

I did my research, man. It’s on the up and up. He failed to mention that by research, he meant he read the one document and started planning his trip. He knew a good deal when he saw it, though, and this was one of those deals of a lifetime.

Uh huh, so you just plan on showing up to Europa and that’s it?

Taken aback, Ben shrugged. I have a plan. Besides, what business is it of yours?

Touché’, The old man said. Well, I would advise you to make sure you have enough supplies for a return trip just in case. I’ll give you a return voucher as well.

I’m not going to need it. He sank his hands deep into his pockets, fighting back the cold the air conditioning was making him feel due to being wet from the rain.

The old man looked up, It’s our policy to always provide a return voucher. You never know when a situation might warrant it. He typed in a few more items on his tablet before asking a series of questions. Name?

Benjamin Dale.

Age?

Twenty-two.

Citizenship?

New American.

Will there be other living occupants traveling with you?

No.

Private or commercial?

Private.

Ship’s name?

Ben grinned before answering. "It’s called the Shistain; S, H, I, S, T, A, I, N."

The older man cracked a sneering smile at the name as he typed it onto his tablet. What kind of ship?

It’s an old transport ship.

So, no FTL then?

No.

The man’s face scrunched up. That’s going to be a long trip, son.

Whatever. How much is this going to cost me? Ben hated spending money almost as much as he hated when people implied his ideas were not good ideas. He especially hated spending the kind of money that was hard to come by. He’d been saving for months, not particularly for this venture, but for any opportunity that would give him a second chance. Joining the Army almost cost him his life, and losing his arm in a training accident and being medically discharged was an embarrassment he couldn’t quite get over. One of the biggest reasons he rarely went home was the disappointed look on his father’s face every time Ben looked at him. He knew what his dad was thinking, that he injured himself on purpose to get out of the Army. It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter; the thought already poisoned his father’s opinion. There was no going back now. There is no going back ever, Ben thought as the clerk typed away on his tablet before looking up again.

One-thousand dollars and thirty-seven cents. The price was accompanied by the same creepy smile the man had who waved and opened the door.

They must practice that crap in the mirror. He tried to remember which pocket he kept his card in. Really, you guys need the extra thirty-seven cents? Ever since the banks were bought out by the government, the sale prices of goods and services were regulated. Those regulations made the prices even across the board, but the caveat was that certain prices did not end on a solid dollar amount which resulted in an increased processing fee absorbed by the banking institution. No one wanted to admit that the people were being robbed blind by regulations, but the fact remained: they were in fact being robbed blind by these hidden costs that were the financial equivalent of stepping on loose nails.

The old man scoffed and shrugged. Taxes and processing.

Ben dug his card from his pocket and scanned it. More like bullskeet and more bullskeet. You know the bank rounds up on purchases that don’t land on even dollar amounts, so why do we have these taxes and processing if it’s only going to take more money from my account? I know this was the banks doing, but I’m sure the government has their hand in that as well. Ben complained about everything, but nothing with as much enthusiasm as he did about money and government. He shoved the card back into his pocket to be lost amongst all the random, unnecessary clutter he often carried with him. He liked to consider himself prepared for anything, but really he was just too preoccupied with the next thing his mind focused on to remember to empty his pockets semi-routinely.

We both fought for the same bullskeet, the man said.

The irony was Ben hadn’t fought for anything, his service cut too short to even mention. Not that he let that small fact keep him from mentioning it when it was beneficial to do so. Yeah, so what’s your name?

I’m Greg, but my buddies call me ‘Reg’ for short.

Ben laughed at the asinine shortening of Greg’s name. I’m Ben, he said, restraining from saying, but you can call me ‘En’ for short.

Well, good luck, Ben. Make sure you heed my advice about the supplies, though. I wouldn’t want you getting caught out there and no hope of coming back. His words felt like a warning, but Ben shrugged it off.

Thank you, ‘Reg’. Ben extended his left arm, the one with the prosthetic, and waited for Greg to shake his hand. The old man hesitated for a moment, the rudimentary construction of Ben’s arm taking some getting used to. It definitely isn’t as well constructed as Greg’s leg is, Ben thought, but it’s all I have for now.

Greg took Ben’s hand in his own and it was at that moment Gli+ch decided to act up. To Ben’s horror, the synchro motors shorted again and sent an electrical arc into Greg’s open hand. Greg winced from the pain but did not cry out as he pulled his hand away. Letting go of Ben’s hand had a negative side effect as it sent it convulsing wildly as the electricity coursing through it searched for a suitable ground.

Greg jumped back, narrowly missing the metallic hand as it whizzed past his face, a blue arc emanating from the fingertips. What the fark!

Ben pulled his arm back too, I’m so sorry. It’s a gli+ch in the synchro motors; they go out of phase from time to time and short each other out. He pulled a jeweler’s screwdriver from his pocket and started toying with the exposed hardware tucked in the cavity of the elbow. Sparks shot out of his arm each time the tip of the screwdriver made contact, but he was oblivious to it as he concentrated on expediting the repair and making up for his embarrassing display. After fifteen seconds of manipulation, his arm settled down, coming to rest in a more natural pose. I’m sorry again. It happens all the time. Well not all the time, but enough of the time it might as well be all the time.

The government gave you that?

Yeah, well it’s a long story, but me and Gli+chy have a history, he said sheepishly, with only a small amount of pride in his voice as he thought about all the work he put into creating her.

You named it? Greg chuckled, the scornful look on his face being replaced with softer laugh lines as his lips opened into a wide smile.

Ben shrugged. I mean she needs to be called something.

And it’s female?

Well, female-ish. She doesn’t really identify as a gender, but she doesn’t complain when I refer to her as ‘her’ you know?

Yeah, not really.

Ben shrugged again, not knowing what else to say. He thought Greg might understand, considering he was an amputee too, but it was clear he was just another person who viewed his augmentation as a tool. Gli+ch was something else to Ben, almost like a family member. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect to him.

Here’s your vouchers, son, Greg said, extending his hand with two vouchers for Ben’s impending flight. You have a takeoff manifest window from Noon on Friday until noon on Sunday. Call the number on the bottom of the voucher to arrange a specific time for launch.

I will, he said, reaching with his left hand to take the vouchers—until Greg pulled back. Sorry. Ben lowered his left arm and used his right hand. Greg handed them over with no problem then.

Don’t forget what I said about supplies. I don’t want you getting to Europa unprepared.

Yeah, thanks for looking out, Ben replied, annoyed by the fact Greg kept insinuating that this trip was a waste of time. I read the brochure on the Net. I at least got enough of the key points to make an educated decision, and this was what I want to do; to fly off Earth and stake my claim on a foreign world, to get rich and forget about the failures of the past.

Have a good day, sir.

You too, Ben said without looking up. He turned to leave, out into the downpour outside. At least I got what I came for, and I have a few days to get the Shistain ready for the flight and load her up with supplies. This is going to be an awesome trip, he thought as he tucked his vouchers deep into his jacket pockets to keep them from getting drenched. As for him, he wasn’t even dry yet from when he arrived, so what was a little more rain? Besides, after this week I might never see rain again.

CHAPTER TWO

The Net was the next best thing to being a god. It had the answer to all of your prayers. You need food? The Net can provide it. You need clothing? Seek it out on the Net. You have potentially nine months floating in vacuum in a five-hundred square-foot transport? Preserve your life and sanity by getting what you need on the Net.

The most amazing thing about it was how the government awarded the use of the Net by giving free credits to users. Never mind the fact that the hidden cost behind its use was what provided the funds to extend those credits. Psychologically, it felt like free money to the average person and who could say no to that? Ben saved his credits each year for a large purchase and was thankful for using that system because nine months of supplies was not cheap, regardless of how frugal one tried to be.

After a few hours of perusing the Net, his eyes were growing tired as his account grew lower. I think I have everything I’ll need, he whispered, brushing his hair back out of his face. He was thankful it was dry now, at least. Walking through the library soaking wet got him several dirty looks, and the air conditioning made him shiver uncontrollably. Now he was back to normal, tucked away in a corner where he could avoid the leery, judgmental eyes of the librarian.

Nine cases of protein tubes. Assorted flavors. Twenty-ounce packets. Individually sealed, he said softly into the microphone. The Net obeyed his commands as he searched for the best deals available, the lowest price at the top of the page as each inquiry populated through a set of filtered search criteria until he found precisely what he wanted. Current selection. Buy now. Authorize purchase. The selection entered into his Recent Purchases cart, and he continued to scroll through a myriad of other goods, trying to find out what he would need to occupy his time.

The easiest way to kill time on the ship would be to sleep, but there was