An Unwitting Accessory To Interstellar Smuggling

20261007

Written for the Second Indulgence, Prompt #4

It’s a common request. Space being such a premium in a major spaceport like this, I consider myself very lucky having a flat with two rooms. Alright, so the second room is tiny and the flat’s affordable because the place wasn’t properly refurbished after it stopped being a welding workshop, but still. Being able to set up a proper recording studio has saved me a fortune. You seen how much they charge per hour for one of those booths?
And this luxury means anyone I know, or who knows someone I know, who’s passing through the spaceport, tends to hit me up to stay overnight. Sure, I don’t exactly offer a B&B experience, but they get privacy, an inflatable mattress, and all the basic amenities. Most people think it’s worth bringing their own food to save the cost of a hotel room.
So when Chris messaged me out of the blue, asking to crash at my place, I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, I was pleased. We’d been inseperable for most of school, then once he went into the Space Corps we sort of drifted out of touch. Perfect chance to reconnect.
He’d changed a lot. Natch. So have I. But he hugged me hello, and called me ‘buddy’, and said it was great to see me. It was lovely. Then he insisted on ordering dinner for us both, as thanks, and I was hardly going to argue, was I? So we split a flizz bowl and chat for hours.
Not only is he still in the Space Corps, he recently got back from an interstellar mission. He’s vague about the goals and whether it was a success. Which didn’t strike me as odd. I mean, makes sense there’d be a period where they’re still analysing stuff and crunching numbers and don’t want anything leaked, right? And what he did tell me about, the actual exploration bits, were really interesting.
Then he asked about me, and was really encouraging. It felt like we were teens again, me hanging off his every word as he describes flying a shuttle for the first time, then him bigging me up for having successfully auditioned a part. I went to bed in a great mood, determined to keep in touch.
Next day Chris goes to this ‘meeting’ he’s apparently in port for. I already assured him it’s fine to leave his luggage at mine. So he only takes this case - it’s about waist high and just as wide, then half as deep. Metal coated in rubber, heavy duty, has a combination lock and rollers and an extending handle, totally standard interstellar travel kit. He had three, and the only thing setting this one apart was a red cable tie attached to the handle.
He came back later than expected, and was acting… flustered? Told me the person he was meeting had been delayed, and this is going to be such a pain because he can’t really hang around another day… so could he leave the case at my place, and this other person would come collect?
Look, maybe I should’ve asked what was in it. I accept that. My bad. Though, I doubt he would’ve been honest with me. But, I just… I assumed it was something safe. You know? I mean, it’s a suitcase. Yeah, one graded for space travel, but still! And he’s an old friend, and it never occurred to me that what he was doing might not be approved by the Space Corps, so…
I said sure.
Yeah, my place is small enough that having a box that size is noticeable. Occasionally even annoying. But it was a favour for a friend. You know how much of a pain shipping stuff between stations can be. And I assumed it wouldn’t take long. That whoever was collecting had been delayed by a day, or something. Shuttle issues causing schedule snarls. You know.
The first night was fine. At least, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
Second night, I woke up at… half three-ish? Swearing I heard someone talking. Sat up, couldn’t hear anything, went back to sleep.
It was the third night that I woke up outside my bed. Which freaked me out a bit. I did sleepwalk as a kid, but… weird to have it suddenly restart. I made a note of what I had for dinner and went back to bed.
Night four, last night, I wake up kneeling in my studio, working the lock on the case. Clicking through the numbers. Trying each combination. That really freaked me out. Seemed such a weird thing for my sleeping mind to fix on.
Then I heard the voice.
Well, looking back, I think I’d been hearing it all along. But this is the first time I remember. The first time I was… cognisant during.
It’s… it sounds old. But not elderly. Does that make sense?
Fair. Uhhh… it’s sort of… there’s no reediness, or feebleness, or anything. But, listening to it, I felt certain the speaker was… The sounds are… they have this ancient feel. Maybe that’s just because I’d never heard that language before.
No. No, it doesn’t sound human. It sounds very non-human, in fact.
I’m sat frozen. Listening to it. And then my hands start moving. Just, sort of, like when you’re fidgeting. Moving without thinking. You can feel what you’re doing, you don’t not have control, but… I didn’t want to open that lock. But my hands were trying to.
Then… I think I panicked? Or maybe that voice broke through. Either way, as I try to get up, to get out of the room, I black out.
Woke up this morning, head pounding, and the case was gone.
Maybe this ‘friend’ of Chris’s came to collect it. Maybe whatever was inside got out. I tried contacting him, but he’s not picking up.
So. Yeah. I… I think whatever it was, it’s not safe. And I don’t know where it went.

Prompt was “One of your childhood friends grew up to be an astronaut. They just got back from a major interstellar mission, and they managed to smuggle something with them. What it is exactly, you don’t know, but they’ve asked you to keep it safe until they come back for it. You’re happy to help - that is, until you hear a voice coming from the package…”

Read other stories written for this prompt here.