Chapter IV: The Man Who Has Everything
Ship: The Kurgan
Starway Lanes, hyper speed transit between systems
Sledger strode by the wall mounted blackboard in the corridor away from the bridge corridor away from the bridge of his ship, course set and starway engaged. He paused and glanced at his to-do list in the intersection to other wings of The Kurgan. Trilling his lips, he scooped up the chalk on a string and jotted something down under ‘Reminders':
Thank Bardo for tip off about Urdu — give him Krellian flank steak?
He dotted the question mark and dropped the chalk, then sauntered past. After a few steps, he halted and cocked his head...Did he eat the Krellian flank steak already? He sucked his teeth and rounded the intersection towards the chow hall. He headed for the fridge, drumming on a metal lunch table fit for a prison — exactly where he stole it from, to be fair — and swung the door open. He found the right glass dish, but it just held frozen grease and a few specks of gristle.
He did in fact eat the Krellian flank steak already.
He circled back to the reminder board and crossed out the reminder and scribbled a new directive beneath it:
Frack ‘em.
His business resolved, Sledger finally made it to his quarters. He slid the thick, rusty door open and ambivalently waded through food wrappers, crumpled beer cans and broken glass. The looked like it’d weathered hurricanes and stampedes. Aside from the trash, it held a round obsidian coffee table in the center, strewn with leftover fries and narcotics, a king-sized bed to the back wall, a beat up leather recliner and a massive monitor, beneath various mounted heads along the upper walls. The head of a three-foot wide Antaren Crater Dragon loomed over his bed, while the green reptilian faces of the Gemstone Twin Pirate Queens flanked his monitor, aligned with the heads of other humanoids — but these trophies couldn’t catch Sledger’s attention. He was tired of looking at achievements over basic folk. A monster here and there, pirate lords, even a tax dodger, but in his eyes, no bounty he had was worth a stuffed head anymore. No Astrals, no Entrophs, no immortals. With abilities and reputation like Sledger’s, it was starting to embarrass him.
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His focus snapped below his monitor, where the digital panel was wired into a vintage VHS, a stark, centuries out of date contrast to the rest of the room. Towers of faded VHS tapes of countless stylized titles flanked the antique machine. He approached the VHS when the trash by his recliner began to rustle. Sledger grinned as a flabby nugget of fur and flesh sprung out from under an empty tub of hot wings. A hideous, disfigured Pug shook ranch and hot sauce from his face, breaths rasping through seams and stitch marks all across his rotund body. Different patches of crudely sutured skin and fur held the giddy little abomination together as he waddled up to his owner.
“Heya, Lambert!” Sledger greeted warmly, “Whatsa matter grub, still can’t breathe right??” he added, genuinely making fun of the grotesque creation. Lambert tried to bark, only producing a raspy hiss as his tail wagged and Sledger scooped him up. “Guess what, ya ugly scud? Daddy’s got a hot new ticket. Ya know what that means?”
Lambert yelped another joyful, raspy bark, from several different animals’ vocal chords.
“Damn right,” Sledger nodded, “We finish the collection!”
Tucking Lambert under one arm, he pointed at the collection of VHS tapes like a prized treasure. He threw Lambert on his shoulder and plopped down on the leather recliner, fishing between the cushions to retrieve the remote. He furrowed his brow and slid his hand back down between the cushions again, and returned with an unopened can of brightly colored ale.
“Heh,” he smiled to himself, “Day just gets better an’ better!” He flicked the can open with a thumb, and Lambert lapped at the fizzy overflow before Sledger moved it away greedily. Lambert growled discordantly and barked at him. “Hey!” Sledger admonished, “Watch yer frackin’ mouth!”
Lambert licked his face, eliciting a laugh from the bounty hunter. He leaned back, gulping from the ale as he hit a button on the remote. The opening credits came up, and he grinned as the sacred video document began playing: a Motion Picture from Earth, called ‘Highlander.’ Sledger set the ale and remote down and held his hands up, waiting for the Motion Picture’s glorious opening hymn to commence.
‘Heeeere we are,’
‘Born to be kiiiiings,’
‘We’re the Princes of the Univeeeerrrrse…’
Sledger grinned ear to ear with his eyes closed as he matched the song’s opening drum solo and guitar riff with invisible instruments, then eased back as the Motion Picture began. After a while, his eyes wandered down from the screen, lost in thought for a second.
“…Just you, me and the Immortals, Lambert…” he sighed, “…What more could a guy want?”
Lambert had already fallen asleep in his lap, and he looked back to the Motion Picture he’d seen thousands of times, and drank.
Alone.