Pilot Episode
"And there she was. A gleaming beacon of polished…whatever it was made of. Aluminum maybe. I got it for a song, a real bargain, but I know why. Yea she is fast but the dealer saw me coming. It takes a lot to fool Captain William T Lawg, but this guy was a pro. He told me the interior was carbon fiber but turns out its mostly plastic and cardboard. Oh well, I can have it swapped out piece by piece over time for something better, something good and light, something that wouldn’t rust up or get old, something like titanium or bitanium. Just think how fast she would be then. I don’t know how many kilos or pounds or yen I could shave off but I bet I could reach like…insane speeds.” said a clearly intoxicated man with jet black hair. His 5 o’clock shadow made him look older than he was but he was brimming with confidence despite his unpolished look.
“I think you had enough soda for now” said the woman with the blue hair.
“Why is that, maybe I’m not done partying?” he said with an eyebrow raised.
“You haven’t even left your stool since you have been here. You arrived drunk, pounded back like 8 sodas and you seem to be staying fairly lit for some reason.” She pointed out.
“Maybe that’s how my party gets started. Anyway so you wanna see my ship?” asked Captain Lawg.
“Not really.” The Bartender replied.
“But it’s a convertible, that’s why it’s so fast.” He bragged.
“Isn’t that a bad characteristic for a space ship?” she asked.
“Only if you are a battle cruiser or an explorer or a cargo ship.” He scoffed.
“I thought you said you were an explorer?” she asked. He gave her a silent stare.
“Different kind of…oh come on, I have everything else. Jumbo minibar, disco ball, hot tub, even an android that I am confident just needs new fuses to work.”
“But not a roof?” she noted, raising an eyebrow.
“Hey, I’m not gonna lie to you and say she is a Nerp class cruiser, but a good ship is only as good as its captain and that’s what matters, hard-top, canvas top, something better then those, doesn’t make a difference when it comes to decisions and reflexes.” He said drawing his pistol and spinning it like a cowboy, nearly dropping it.
“Havin trouble there Tex?” she grinned.
“Balance is off, that’s why it's so impressive. A normal man couldn't even get it spinning.” He said sighing as she noticed it was missing the barrel and receiver, just a handle and trigger, complete with holster.
“What happened to your gun?” she inquired.
“It’s a convertible too…shut up. I mean, sure I owe a little money but I can’t give them my gun or my ship.” He protested, knocking back another shot.
“So you gave them half of both?” she asked.
“Damn right. Finding a ship is impossible with the new registration codes. Every new ship requires a license and inspection, same with the new guns. You can thank the politicians for that. But as long as it pre-dates the ban…perfectly legal.”
“But what good is half a gun or half a ship?” she asked.
“That’s the beauty of it. Ship’s top is just an addition, the registration code is printed on the engine and the main frame column, so you can swap the top all you want baby, ride topless all day and it’s perfectly legal. Little canvas and a few cans of flex-spray and you got a ship. Guy on the commercial said you could make a boat out of it with a screen door. If it can hold water, It can hold vacuum, obviously water weights more than vacuum. So technically she may not be a full ship in the normal sense but she flies just fine. All I gotta do is haul some cargo and make payday and I can get whatever top I want, never change the registration code and that sucker at the pawn shop never even asked.” He grinned proudly.
“Okay, but isn’t the registration number for that handgun printed on the barrel?” she asked. He scoffed and looked down at his belt. His eyes went wide.
“Awe son of a bitch damnit!” he said throwing the handle to the ground.
“Guess you should, have sold the whole gun.” She muttered to herself. “Wouldn’t have made much difference though, ship is worth a lot more then a pistol.” She said comfortingly.
“Usually yes, but the ship sucks and the gun was a collectors item. I sold the wrong half, I’m so stupid. I’m a terrible captain.” He wailed, placing his forehead down firmly on the table.
“Not sure if I would put my face on the counter. This is Delmar 7. Delmarians have a tendency to end up with their faces on there too.”
“Who cares? I lost everything.” He said with a muffled mutter.
“You do know Delmarians have their genitals on their faces.” She muttered. He jumped up and slid off the barstool, clambering to his feet and holstering the handle, wiping his face and frantically checking his pockets for sanitizer. He sprayed some on his hands and began rubbing his face. A moment later he let out a very feminine scream and dropped to his knees. The bartender sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Rubbed alcohol in your eyes didn’t you?” she said strolling out from behind the counter and helping him up. “It’s okay, just let it out.” she comforted, returning to her place and pouring him another shot of the milky liquid giving off a faint glow and a slight green hue.
“I’m falling apart, I got nothing. My girl left me for one of those yellow aliens with 2 heads, apparently he can watch TV and pay attention to her at the same time whatever good that is. She told me I never paid attention to her, I was gonna kick his ass but I don’t remember his name and they all look alike.
“She didn’t mention his name?”
“I dunno; maybe, guess I wasn’t paying attention the point is…I’m screwed. I have 3 weeks to pay off the debt I have at the pawn store or they keep my shit.” He sighed.
“So what? Half a gun and a plastic starship roof?”
“It’s not the roof, it’s what I hid in the vent panel. I’ve been missing most of the roof for weeks now, sell a section as needed. I just sealed the cargo bay from the rest of the ship. That last section had a hollow spot that space-pirates are prone to building safes into. I used the safe to hide valuables. It’s a Jade Plinket doll.”
“A real one or a fake?” she asked, suddenly looking interested.
“If it was fake I wouldn’t care. Those things are worth thousands of credits. I had it notarized and confirmed. Paperwork in the safe too”
“Then why did you leave it in the panel you intended to sell?” she asked.
“I was super sober, I wasn’t thinking. My girl just left me and I needed money, didn’t have a crew anymore, had to sell something and the shop owner heavily suggested the roof panel of my ship.” He said flopping his face back on the table.
“He must have known you were hiding something.” she suggested
“Of course he did, she told him everything. The pawn shop owner was the guy my girlfriend ran off with. She took 500 credits from my glovebox before she left. I should have put that in the vent too. Everyone knows Caster 84 ships have good hiding spots and safes can be impossible to remove if installed correctly. They’re almost impossible to crack without dismantling the entire wall.” He finished.
“Or taking the roof off I guess. So I am just speculating here if you want to stop me…she told him you had a Plinket doll, she couldn’t get the combination for the lock so she got you sober and convinced you to pawn part of the ship to pay the debt you already owed to the guy she was sleeping with…and he got you to sell the roof that contained the lock box. So you sold him the barrel of a valuable antique gun to buy some time and you need 800 credits so you can get the doll you were going to sell to pay off the debt you already owed.” She said he lifted his head in awe.
“Wow, you are really good.” He said.
“Can I see that handle?” she asked. He laid it on the table without a second thought. He squinted suspiciously.
“Why do you care about half a worthless gun?” he asked. She squeezed her boobs together and he suddenly didn’t care, sliding the gun handle close to her cleavage.
She began fiddling with it as he rubbed his face.
“Can I get another…I’m not quite sober enough to fly, these shots are pretty weak.”
“Sure, here is a double. You are having a really bad day anyway.” she said pouring it to the brim.
“So can I have my handle back now?” he asked. She sighed and lifted up a fully assembled gun.
“No, I don’t think so.” She said with a smirk.
“Um…why do you have my whole gun?” he asked.
“Because I spotted the barrel of a mint condition Celtic Rider pistol in the pawn shop earlier and I asked him for the grip. He told me you would have it and that anything with tits could trip the guy up enough to just hand it over... I have tits.” She smiled.
“Yea, you sure do…so do I pay you when I get the money and you give me back my gun or what?” he asked.
“You stupid little man, you don’t grasp any of this do you? I am robbing you. Every pawn store is Colony Owned property, this is a dive bar, no cameras and no scanners. I get to keep the gun, that’s 400 credits easily, a month’s wages for a bartender and like you said…guns are hard to get since they started making you register. You just brought me the gun I needed to rob you. I didn’t believe you would be that stupid.”
“You used me, Tits. Touché. So what? You got my gun, your not gonna shoot me.” he said with nothing left to loose. “Colony police would be on you in 5 minutes.”
“Or, I could just call it self defense…this is your gun and it’s registered to you. An off-worlder with a fancy gun, a Chafee nonetheless, stone sober.”
"Okay that does look bad, but I have been drinking enough of these things to start getting my blood-alcohol back to normal, any minute now…” he said feeling nervous.
“There is no booze in these things, they’re flavoring for mixed drinks.” She said with a grin. You could drink the bottle and never get your head clear, and you Chafee’s are useless when your blood alcohol drops under .06. So those shots of sugar-water and flavoring probably boosted your metabolism. You’ll be so jacked by the time they arrive you wont be able to defend or finish a sentence without falling over.”
“Well, Crapshit…you really are good. A Chafee in a bar with no alcohol in him, gun with his registering number, and a beautiful waitress who I assume gets a cut of the money for whatever this is?” he asked, looking groggy.
“Twenty percent, so tell me the safe combination and I let you walk. Or you can keep your combination and go to jail. They don’t like Chafee’s in Colony cells you know.
“Can I at least have my gun back if I tell you?” he asked.
“You can have the handle…I’ll sell it for 80 credits.” She snickered sarcastically, knowing he had nothing left.
“Fine, you win. No police, just put the gun down. I don’t wanna get shot with my own gun…Password.” He sighed.
“Exactly.” She said.
“No, I mean the Password is “Password”.” He sighed again.
“Are you kidding me? Don’t lie to me you filthy Chafee!” she said waving the gun.
“I’m not lying, the Password is just Password. I was sober, hadn’t had drink for days and I never used the safe before, it was a brand new ship to me. The screen said to enter Password and I took it very literal. I typed in “Password” and it saved it. I don’t know how to reset the damn thing. The Password is Password.” He barked. She looked shocked.
“Wow…you really do have a problem.” She said placing a small bottle on the counter. “You need to get clean, How long has it been since you had any alcohol?” she asked.
“6 days. I can barely walk straight, I’ve been too broke to buy anything. I’m only half Chafee, so I can go a few days without any booze before I get really trashed, unless some sneaky wench keeps sliding me sugar shots. Maybe if you had been pouring something stronger then drink flavoring this whole time, I’d be drunk enough to think straight.” He said swigging on the bottle she gave him.
“Well, I feel for you. I hope things get better but obviously I am going to give the Password Password to the guy, and get my 20 percent. Here, house brand Vodka. Drink up, get your head clear before you end up in jail.” She smirked. He heard the faint sound of sirens.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t call the police?” he protested.
“No I implied I wouldn’t shoot you. You better go.” She grinned.
“You suck!” he yelled, falling out of the chair and frantically transitioning from scuttling on all-fours to a wobbly sprint. He chugged the bottle and headed to the nearest populated location. He turned the bottle around. Mako’s drink flavoring. “Oh you stupid bitch.” He grumbled, throwing it at the wall. The lights and sirens were obvious now as the hover-bikes neared him. He rushed into the street and rammed through the crowd of partying locals, all enjoying the midnight parade for whatever reason they were celebrating. He zigged and zagged before locating his ship’s teleporter pad, as he circled around the long way to avoid direct attention, he fiddled with the communicator. Luckily even sober he was good at operating those. Suddenly the spotlight hit him and he darted for the pad, running into someone and noticing the police heading his way. His eyes got big as he realized it was the woman from the bar.
“Are you following me?” he asked. The bartender looked insulted. “Don’t say a word you damn double-crossing whore.” He said burying the barrel of his bottle opener into her side like a pistol. “Go for the gun, or refuse to step on that pad and you are dead.” He growled. She looked confused but she played along. He hit the auto-return and they materialized in his ship, staggering out as he pointed the fake pistol.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, looking terrified.
“Somewhere safe, might take you a while to get to a communication booth to call your friends but as long as you cooperate, I won’t kill you.” he said hitting the big red button on the console. The ship streaked away into the darkness as the two of them held on for dear life. He held the button for about 10 seconds and let off.
“Alright, bet you didn’t expect that move.” He said rummaging through the minibar and swigging back a tiny bottle of something. He let out a relief “Ahhh” and sat down in his chair, adjusting the tape and lining up the armrest so he could get comfortable. The arm of the chair fell off and he just went with it, pretending it was somehow intentional. He cracked open another mini-bottle.
“Alright, now take off that jacket.” He ordered.
“You’re not going to take advantage of me are you?” she asked, looking frightened.
“What? No, I just want my gun back. You already took advantage me of me enough for the both of us, but I got the edge now. I want my gun back, and when the chaos settles, AFTER I get my roof out of pawn and my safe back…then I’ll let you go. Only you know the Password so as long as I keep you here…I’m just fine.” he said grabbing the jacket and realizing there was no gun in it.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, I don’t have your gun, or any gun, I don’t know you or any Password.” She said looking upset and ready to cry. He got up and was about to get verbally intimidating before he noticed her clothes were slightly different color. He also didn’t notice the ear ring back in the bar.
“Were you just at the bar?” he asked.
“I don’t drink. I never saw you until you held a gun to my side and forced me on this ship. Did you think I was someone else?” she asked
“Awe shit…are you kidding me?” he hollered, flopping down in the chair as the other armrest fell off. “I may have…mistaken you for someone else. It’s not my fault, it was dark, there was some mayhem getting done, I was sober and out of breath and all you damn aliens look the same.” He said, realizing his blunder.
“You thought I was someone else? You seriously can’t tell us apart?” she asked, half angry and half scared. “So are you going to kill me?” she asked.
“No, wouldn’t kill you if I could. The same wench who has my password also has my gun, and by the time I turned back she would have my roof and my valuables and I’m already a fugitive for something I didn’t even do before the abduction charge I probably just earned. I’ll have to drop you off at the next planet with modern life.” He yawned.
“Wait…she stole your roof?” she asked abruptly.
“No, I pawned it. Long story. Besides it’s fine. My ship is even faster without it.”
“Why are we not dead?” she asked, looking up at the canopy of ratchet-straps and canvas.
“Survival Green, baby…toughest tape in the galaxy. Lotta older ships used to replace entire panels with it to make the ships faster, reduce the weight. Perfect for illegal cargo runs…or if you just lose your roof due to some unfortunate events.”
“That can’t be scientifically possible. A thin layer of adhesive couldn’t possibly hold the vacuum of space.” She said looking perplexed.
“Thin layer my-ass, that’s like 2 rolls of the stuff. Survival Green can do anything if you lay it on 15 strips thick. Don’t worry about it.” he assured.
“I am worrying about it, it doesn’t make sense, there is no way that is safe. How can that flimsy tape repair an entire roof section, how does it insulate?” she asked. He blinked a few times and his smile faded.
“I guess I never questioned it.” he said noticing his breath. “I just figured since I read it in a book that it made sense. Survival Green is strong enough to hold, maybe the freight runners insulated the inside with something.” he pondered as the temperature began to rapidly drop.
“We need to turn back.” she insisted.
“It’ll be fine I bet, besides I didn’t set the navigational beacon so I have no idea where “back” even is.
“How do you not know where we came from? It’s the opposite direction from where we are going, you just turn around and go back.” she barked.
“Yea, normally you would, but this is a stealth drive. It changes directions multiple times in transit so you can’t be followed. Without a beacon setting there is no way of knowing how many turns we did.”
“Can’t we just guess?” she yelled
“Bad idea, we could end up really lost. The stealth drive hones in one the strongest signal away from the target point so we would be better off staying on course and hoping for a good trade planet. I held the button down for like 10 seconds so we went pretty far.” He shrugged.
“How far is pretty far?” she asked.
“Well, speed of light travel…held the button down for ten seconds…so about ten light-seconds.” He shrugged, relaxing in his chair.
“We are going to die aren’t we?” she asked.
“Of course not…I got enough booze for 2 weeks easy, we are one week away from the little green dot here, plenty of fuel and there is a pot-belly stove if it gets drafty. I find if you stay comfortably full, get plenty of sleep and bathe regularly, try not to worry about stuff till a warning alarm goes off…everything usually goes fairly smooth. It’s when you struggle that you end up in trouble. See I was doing great, I had a job, a ship with a roof, and a girlfriend when I was just going with the flow.” He explained. She shivered and put her jacket back on.
"So what happened that landed you as a fugitive on the run, with a ship made half of tape?” she asked.
“Weren’t you listening?…I got a girlfriend. Girlfriends get clingy and stress you out. They mess with your vibes and muddle your clarity and you start wondering things like “What am I doing with my life?” or “Should I replace this fuse?” and before long you aren’t going with the flow, your paddling towards crazy goals like marriage and settling down. You start struggling and that’s when you end up pawning your roof and losing your gun. All we gotta do is sit back and relax, let the ship coast and at this speed we will be there long before the alcohol runs out or the power gets critical. Might have to burn a few things to keep the temperature toasty but I got shit to burn, I have quite the collection of lumber from old crates.” He said noticing the frost forming on his nose.
“Yea well, news-flash dickhead…I’m not a Chafee, I need more than vodka and sleep to survive. I can’t go a week without water or food and we aren’t gonna have a week’s worth of shit to burn.” She said keeping the fire lit. “Plus…isn’t this a pure oxygen environment? Should we have exploded at the first spark from this thing?” she asked.
“Don’t over-think it. That sounds accurate but we aren’t dead so clearly something is different.” He said shivering and grabbing a blanket.
“Like what? What could possibly make sense here?” she said warming her hands as the fire flickered.
“I dunno, I’m not a scientist or a math-chemist person, I’m a historian. Maybe there is some sort of space-technology device that takes care of it.”
“Why would a ship be advanced enough to have some mysterious fire-suppression device and still shitty enough to heat with a wood-stove?” she yelled.
“Calm down, you’re yelling is using up oxygen, clearly we have less than I thought or we would have exploded. Plus I bought that stove as a goof, it’s for roasting marshmallows and smores and stuff, never intended to heat a whole ship.” he said opening a drawer and looking for another blanket.”
“Survival tape…wood stove…are you camping or running a spaceship? What the hell is a marshmallow? How can you be this stupid and still be alive?” she asked.
“Chafee’s are inherently lucky. We have some chemical thing that makes us totally chill and relaxed, I didn’t really listen to the chemistry teacher.”
“Alcohol…it’s called alcohol. Chafee’s are not naturally relaxed you are just naturally buzzed. It’s a mutation caused by thousands of years of drunk space-pirates surviving off rum and hookers and flying unshielded ships through radioactive space. Most of them died drunk and riddled with radiation poisoning and space syphilis. You get enough of them in space and some are bound to adapt. Chafee’s are just the .002 percent who mutated to suit the party-life that killed most of them. So you have a resistance to Theta, Gamma and Kappa radiation, and you don’t need food anymore. Just a balance of booze and sugar” She protested.
“See? Sounds pretty lucky to me. Booze and sugar are amazing, especially together. Ever had a pina Canadia? All the unlucky ones are dead, so the only ones to breed are the ones with fortune running through their veins.” He smiled.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“That makes no sense as all. The only thing in your veins is .28 units methyl alcohol. Chafee’s need to drink to stay sober but you have a natural “chill vibe” because you have no brain cells left. Chafee’s are born burnt-out. Some of us are not that lucky. So while you freeze to death pretending to be camping or lying on the beach, I get to freeze my ass off with the intelligence and brain cells needed to know how much it is going to suck. So thank you for abducting me and stranding me on a ship headed straight to a frosty grave.” She said tossing random stuff in the stove.
“It’s space…how cold could it be? There are a billion stars shining from all directions!” he scoffed.
A few hours passed in silence.
“I think my toes are dead.” He said as he shivered in his little ball of blankets as they huddled around the fire.
“I hate you.” she muttered.
“This isn’t my fault. Plus we have only 2 hours left till we arrive at our destination.” He said pointing at the panel.
“No, that’s two hours since we left.” She said shivering.
“It’s only been that long? Geese.” He said looking more mildly shocked then concerned.
“We won’t last another 2 days and your stupid stealth drive could be changing directions randomly if it’s as defective as the rest of the ship. I’m gonna die in an ice-cube tray with a dip-sickle next to me talking about march mallors and fortunes.
“Ugh, Marshmallows are so good. You just toast them till they get sticky and burn a little and then smush them between 2 crackers.
“That sounds terrible.” She said.
“Oh the crackers are terrible, I don’t know why the books suggested it, I just scrape them off and eat the sticky part.” He smiled.
“What are you, an ant? Then why even bother? Just eat the mallow by itself.” She grumbled.
“It’s an Earth tradition. I read it off the back of the package. That’s where my ancestors were from and where the books came from, mostly just burnt bits and stray pages but I pieced them together. Of course it’s traditional to use chocolate bars in smores as well, but I can’t find chocolate anywhere. Probably got all blown up first when the collider went off. Switzerland was where all the chocolate was made, also where the Large hard-on collider was that blew up the planet.” He noted.
“How did the books survive?” she asked.
“They were covered in some kind of protective dust, apparently they printed billions of them and then like a hundred years later they just stopped using paper.” He noted. “There is a debris field just full of little scraps of books and you just gotta use your brain logicals and fill in the blanks. Eventually I’ll have re-written a whole library. I don’t know why they stopped printing.
“Makes sense, it would take that long for them to develop efficient solar plants and stop cutting down trees.”
“Oh no they kept cutting trees down, they just kept books on their computers and burned fuels to power the computers so it actually used up more fuel, but there must have been some benefit or they wouldn’t do it. Plus by like 2025 they all used hieroglyphics called Emojis and writing became obsolete again.”
“Seems limiting.” she shivered.
“They had their reasons, I’m sure.” He shivered as a little light came on. “See…now we have something worry about besides freezing.” He grinned cheerfully.
“Alcohol burns you know…” she threatened.
“Don’t you dare.” He snipped, waddling to the panel to see what the light meant.
“What does the light mean?” she asked.
“It’s the burnout light, light.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she asked.
“The light in the Kitchen kept going out so I wired up a light sensor to power this light. The light comes on when the light burns out. I’d go replace it but I used my last bulb to make the burnout light.” he yawned.
“Oh my god you are useless. How did you ever successfully make any cargo runs with this ship and your shit-logic?” she groaned.
“I’m not a cargo runner, this isn’t even a cargo ship. I’m a space historian, learned from my grandfather, everyone thought he was crazy but his directions lead me to the debris field. I am one of the few surviving Earth descendants who can read, and a few years back when I was applying for a cargo license I got lost on my way to the navigation hub, I don’t wanna talk about the details. Anyway I ended up somewhere in the Trump sector and we both know that’s a bad place to break down and fortunately I ran into another ship before I got jacked.”
“Good thing you found someone.” she said rubbing her hands together.
“Oh, no it was abandoned; I just ran into the side of it and crippled my rig. The other ship was in good shape though so I just traded ships and use my training rig for parts. This puppy used to be an ice-cream cruiser. Apparently Earth woman and children heard the siren and just flew right to it. I don’t really like kids but I like women and ice-cream so 2 out of 3 isn’t bad, not a lot of kids in space so it works out nicely. I traced the coordinates and maps back to where the Earth was and started collecting the debris. As long as nobody else finds it I can make trips back and forth and collect anything I want. Some of it’s junk and I can just sell it as scrap, but some I just have to keep for myself. There is a lot of history here, priceless Earth trinkets that one day will end up in my museum. I have comic books documenting the great Mutant Wars, but it’s incomplete. I have a crate of classical music from Earths more industrial early 21st century, mostly about hoes and getting money, so it’s relatable. And my cockpit is built around the frame of one of Earth’s classic muscle cars, a Ford Fusion. At the time, most cars ran on oil-based fuel so the Fusion’s primitive reactor was probably a real powerhouse of the time. Mint condition, engine was gone. Had to use it for something, why not a control cockpit? And this is a Fidget spinner.” He said digging one out of a drawer.
“What does it do?” she asked.
“I don’t know. There were a lot of them so they must have been important but I haven’t found a single useful thing they would be good for aside from distracting the hell out of yourself when you are trying to do actual work. I may have some of these cans of food left. They are little cylinders of blended meat in chicken flavored water from Vienna, an island on Earth.”
“Are they good to eat?” she asked.
“Well, not really but they don’t appear to have aged at all, so if you get hungry enough to ignore the taste they might be worth the risk. I dip them in tequila. They are about half salt and preservatives by volume so they keep as emergency rations, but I don’t imagine anyone ever eating them unless the situation was pretty sparse. I thought I found another food item about a week back that resembled meat. It had a yellow M on the wrapping paper so I unwrapped it, looked like meat and bread but the little devil nearly bit my pinky off. Shot 3 holes in the hull putting it down. Some kind of genetic experiment I think. It clearly wasn’t food.”
“Let me guess…Survival Green Tape on the holes.” She wheezed.
“I used 2 layers. We cool.” He said looking up and noticing another light on. He ran to the console and shifted into park, flipping a toggle switch and unleashing a truly demonic sounding musical tone.
“What is that horrid music?”
“I think it was called jingle bells, it was meant to alert people that the ship was in the area and had ice-cream to barter for currency. We detected a ship, maybe they will hear it. I’ll crank the volume.”
“It’s a Vacuum!” she bellowed.
“Don’t over-think everything.” He hollered back, cranking the volume.
Part 2
“It doesn’t make sense. There is nothing in space to compress in order to make sound waves.” She said looking irritated despite being now in a warm cargo bay, green tape binding her wrists.
“They heard it, didn’t they? And now we are warm and sitting on a crate of cargo instead of frozen to death. Things work out of you just let the flow take you.”
“The flow didn’t take us…pirates took us. We are captive on a pirate ship, how is this a good thing?” she whispered angrily.
“Well, warm and tied up is better than freezing and not tied up. They have food somewhere so you might not starve now or have to eat those horrible meat tubes. And we were going to run out of oxygen soon, so alive beats dead. Think of this as a stroke of luck. Chafee’s are naturally lucky.”
“I will kill you if they don’t kill us first.” She muttered as the doors opened and a short, fat alien stood proudly wielding a rather bazooka-esque weapon. He was armored from head to toe and spoke through a voice modulator to sound more menacing. 2 pair of rabbit ears hung on either side of his mask, like something out of a horror movie.
“Um, so can we stop off at a fuel-stop and get a shower?” William asked the alien.
“Name and rank.” He barked.
“Captain William Lawg of the Starship Tast-E-Chill. This is my copilot…um, I never did ask your name did I?” he muttered.
“Uka.” She said rolling her eyes.
“Is this a military vessel or waste disposal?” it asked.
“Neither. It’s a mobile Earth-museum currently, but it used to be a frozen food storage ship.” Lawg grinned.
“What kind of food?” it asked.
“Mostly frozen dairy and sugar bars. They are amazing. I found lots of small ships carrying them. Probably easy to store since you just open a window and the back stays pretty cold. There were some bags of incents in a sealed container under the seat with some paper and lighters but I traded them for light bulbs to some cargo hauler. Sucker gave me 18 bulbs for about an ounce of incense.” He bragged
“Weaponry?” it asked angrily in a low throaty voice.
“I had a pistol but that’s gone now. Otherwise nothing.” He admitted.
“What happened to the dairy bars?” it asked.
“I ate them already, all except a box of bubblegum sherbet. I just tossed that out the airlock with the wrappers, believe me you aren’t missing anything.”
“So you two are alone…no weapons, no food, no cargo and no fuel?” it asked.
“No fuel?” asked Uka, looking alarmed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mention it before cuz we would die of air-loss way before we ran out of fuel.” He assured. The alien hung his head and drooped its ears.
“Maaan. I suck at this job.” He mumbled, looking very sad. He tossed the weapon aside.
“HEY! Careful with that thing.” hollered William.
“Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous. It just blows warm air. I tried to fix it but I don’t think it was ever really a weapon.” He said flopping down and removing his menacing face mask to show a much less menacing chubby-cheeked bunny face under it.
“So you don’t have any weapons either?” asked Uka.
“Nope. Just a few crates of something called Coffee liquor. It tastes horrible and I nearly died trying to drink a bottle of it. Otherwise all I have are these dried, inedible bags of old meat.” He said kicking a crate. Uka tore open a bag and began mowing frantically, looking downright blissful in the process.
“You do realize that is made from dead aliens and packed in toxic salt right?” it said hesitantly.
“It’s delicious, just spiced meat that has been preserved.” She said chewing harshly.
“Yea…I said that… Dead aliens and salt.” He said shuffling his feet. “You must be really starving. Have you eaten anything in months?” he asked.
“She ate 3 hours ago.” said William, trying a piece. “I have to admit, if we soaked this in water and warmed it up this would basically just be pepper-steak.” He shrugged
“Wait…you guys normally eat meat? You two are carnivores?” it said grabbing the leaf blower and shouldering it.
“Relax, I’m a boozaterrian mostly, we aren’t gonna eat you. That thing just blows warm air anyway. You just told that part.”
“Maybe I just have to turn the safety off, this could be a warning mode.” He bluffed.
“Stop stressing out, you will find food, meanwhile this won’t go to waste with her on board. You can drop us off somewhere and we won’t hurt you. Everything is fine. The universe provides.” He said kicking back.
“The universe isn’t providing me shit!” the creature snapped. “Two weeks with just a 5 day ration pack, and my navigation went offline so I can’t even find a planet with food. I find one ship and they don’t have food either. And I don’t even know how to use the showers!!!” he yelled, kicking the crate again.
“Why don’t you know how to use the showers on your own ship?” he asked.
“Because this isn’t my ship!! I was a janitor on a 5-man crew. Me, 3 bounty hunters and a cook. I was hoping to get my warrior roots and experience and become a bounty hunter too but the first bounty we found tricked us. I got suited up to help them and next thing I know they flew away and left me on this old prisoner transport shuttle. I don’t even know how to fly this thing, I just yelled at the voice control till it started moving. I’m gonna die in here.” He said slumping.
“Most navigation’s are voice activated.” Pointed out William.
“It’s a Bongo brand Galaxy Positioning Satellite navigator and the language has been stuck on Dyrellian. I can’t speak Dyrellian and my communicator doesn’t have the right adapter to charge. You’d think they would all use the same adapter but no, 47 different plugs and mine is an older operating system.” the bunny complained.
“Did you try hitting it really hard, sometimes that works? Maybe turn the GPS off and back on again.” He suggested.
“What good is turning it off…” he said switching it off dramatically. “And right back on again?” he finished, flipping it on dramatically. The light turned green.
“Welcome to Bongo, please select your planetary language.” said a pleasant female voice.
"GGGGHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!” screamed the alien, smacking its face into the screen and dropping to his knees in frustration.
“I wouldn’t touch the screen with my face, you never know who else has used it and some species have their genitals on their face…I’m just saying you could get beard-ball-lice.” William whispered to Uka.
“Two weeks…I could have caught up to the other bounty hunters…all I had to do was flip the switch back and forth. Now I’m gonna die because I drifted out of the trade rout-range and I have no food and a gun that just gently blows air for NO PURPOSE WHATSOEVER!!” he said, practically melting into the floor with exhaustion.
“We have navigation charts, we could just pool resources and go. I have a nav system but it hasn’t been updated in forever. A hundred credits a year for updates…it’s just robbery. I could have paid 400 for lifetime updates but who has that just in their pocket to blow on navigational charts?” he scoffed as if giving pearls of wisdom.
“You’re right…were saved. We can just take my stuff to your ship and tow this Junker to the next planet! I am going to live!!” it triumphantly cheered.
His look of triumph was now a look of confusion and utter dismay.
“Are you shitting me?” he asked, staring at the 8 foot hole in the top of the dining room section, covered only with canvas sheets and an obscene amount of green packaging tape.
“It’s tougher than it looks.” assured William.
“Oh really…because it looks like 15 or 20 layers of adhesive tape where the towing anchor should be. You are missing a vital section of your ship and you decided that the deadly vacuum of space was adequately separated from your fleshy body by plastic and sticky resin, less then the thickness of my pants. How are you two not dead? The radiation alone in some sectors would kill you in hours, what is insulating the ship?” he asked.
“Well, we have been using blankets and huddling by the woodstove. I’m immune to radiation and I guess Uka was just fortunate to only be on here for a short time and in a sector with low radiation. Chafee’s are known for good luck.” He assured.
“You are flying a ship through the least survivable conditions scientifically possible, with a condom for a roof. I could jam my paw through that if I wanted.
“I definitely wouldn’t try that. That’s the only thing separating us from space.” reminded William Lawg, philosopher. The alien put his face in his paws and shook his head.
“Maybe the radiation HAS accumulated in your brain.” He sighed to himself.
“Okay, let me be perfectly clear. I am not going to be living under that for any more then the time it takes to briskly run from one sealed section to another. That is the scariest thing I have ever spent this long looking at.” He insisted.
“Well it’s either that or in the cargo freezer that has no roof panels at all, or the engine room. They’re about the same temperature and if you close the door there is no air circulation. The ducts were re-purposed a few months ago.” William shrugged.
“For what? What could you possibly have a need for that would be more important than ventilation in a spacecraft?” asked the alien.
William beamed proudly as he unveiled his creation and the others sunk with a look of utter disbelief and disappointment.
“It’s called a hot-tub.” He grinned.
"It’s a huge bath-tub.” said the alien.
“No, it’s a hot-tub, filled with hot water that bubbles and it re-circulates through these nozzles. A bath tub just sits there. This has massage jets and temperature control and mood lighting and it holds up to 5 humanoids…preferably 4 of them female and one of them being me.” he informed.
“So…like a human mating chamber?” it asked.
“Well, no not…I mean you could get in the mood and get the party started in this beast but the action would have to go elsewhere after a point. This is a re-circulating vat of fluids…it’s a good idea to keep those fluids limited to water and cleaning chemicals.” He protested.
“So you cant mate in it…you don’t bathe in it and the water just goes back in the same tub repeatedly…you can’t drink the water because of the cleaning chemicals…what is the purpose of this device?” it asked.
“For chilling out, relaxing. You have a good soak, let the jets ease tension and set a vibe of carefree fun. Lubricates the social setting and gets people talking and sharing.” He defended.
“I thought your species was about ten percent alcohol by volume…how much additional relaxation is needed to have a conversation?” it said, looking unimpressed.
“You…” he said pointing his finger. “You just, it’s a traditional thing. Earth-heritage. This bad-boy is a piece of history.”
“It’s a piece of something for sure.” chimed Uka.
“Wait…Earth?” asked the alien.
“Yea. My ancestors lived there, this is a piece of Earth history preserved and made functional. Kings and presidents would sign treaties in these things. Vladimir Pudding and King Arthur probably signed the Ten Declarations of the Commandments in one of these.” He recited. “Maybe this exact one, you never know!” barked Lawg.
“I have always wanted to study Earth history, I thought it was a myth. Didn’t its inhabitants create a black-hole underground and rip the planet it in half or something.”
“Yea, but that’s a different…don’t worry about it.” he waved.
"It makes sense now that the same species that decided to build a planet killing device inside their own planet would decide to replace an inch thick steel and carbon fiber panel with tape. I think I understand why they died now.” he said solemnly.
“Hey, humans were adventurous and brave. No, we didn’t always think things out but we took risks and we bravely explored the unknown!” he protested further.
“Kinda like isolating the most destructive particles in existence and shooting them into one another at the speed of light in a big tube right under one of their populated cities? Did you even have a backup planet terraformed yet in case it went the way it went?” he asked.
“No, I think the space program was already scrapped by then.” William said looking ashamed.
“Well, at last you saved one ship full of ancient artifacts.” He said with a grim sadness.
“There is a lot more of this, I just don’t have the funding or the materials to gather my museum together.” He nodded with a slight wink to hint.
“We can pool our resources and turn the ship into a mobile museum; you can have my ship for materials. This is great. We can park on top of the missing roof and use it as a docking bay for small ships” said the alien, extending a paw to shake.
“UrMarlmertader.” It said. William looked over at Uka for translation.
“I think I may have suffered a minor eardrum rupture.” He said trying to pop his jaw.
“It’s my name.” he added.
“How about just Marley for short?” he suggested.
“Okay, but I get to call you Lawg.” He insisted. They shook on it and as a friendship was being forged in the fires of ignorance and frivolousity, Uka’s feeling of imminent doom was returning and now she believed her life would end not in the presents of one moron…but two of a kind.
A rather adorable yawn sprawled over the face of our alien friend as they worked diligently to get the ship working. Captain Lawg was prepared for this sort of incident. With a few pipes and some hazardous welds, it almost looked stable. It took them 28 cans of flex-spray to fill the gaps of the two ships together with a nice screen-door-boat type seal, just like the energetic man in the commercial showed. A good bit of cargo canvas and some more Survival Green tape and the drafty soft-top canopy was stronger than ever. Marley was a hell of a welder for something furry and flammable, possibly the worst profession to have next to scavenging Earth-debris in a ship designed to keep cargo cold in space with a roof the equivalent of an umbrella, and questionable everything else. They sat down for a break and Uka decided to get some sleep while the others tinkered on the death-ship. Marley munched on a home-made marshmallow and admired his work.
“You know…we may survive this.” He noted.
“Of course we will. You’re flying with the Lawg-man. Nothing flies like a Lawg. Oh I’ve been meaning to ask you…what the hell are you anyway, some kind of space bunny?” he said tossing aside his scraped cracker remains.
“The hell is a bunny?” he asked, scrunching his nose with his paw. “I’m a Delmarian.” He shrugged. William jumped a little.
“You mean the thing everyone is terrified of? But your not remotely intimidating…are you a kid or something?” he asked.
“A kid? I’m fifteen years old, almost middle age. I have a wife back home.”
“She cute?” asked Lawg.
“Nope.” He said without hesitation. “Why do you think I took a bounty job with my cousin Ferbis? I never fit in on my world. Delmarians are known for being warriors, we took over the Kneebler Empire in 6 cycles. But I’m not a fighter, I’d rather read and tinker.” He admitted.
“Aren’t Delmarians supposed to have genitals on their face. I heard that somewhere recently.” William muttered.
“Seriously? Why does everyone get that wrong? Do I look like I have genitals on my face? They’re TENTACLES not TESTICLES!! Why does everyone think these are scrotal bits? They’re sensory glands for picking up bio-electric activity.”
“Geese, sorry. Didn’t mean to trigger the wrath of space-bunny. So what are those things on your head?” he asked.
“Ears…everybody has ears.” He snipped.
“Not everyone has 2 sets, and I mean the bumps in front of them.” he corrected.
“Oh the stumps…right. Delmarians have antlers. Most of us trim them for space travel…makes getting on a helmet impossible otherwise.” He said sniffing the air. His ears stood up straight and parted to reveal a membrane between the sets. They quivered like he was picking up something.
“What is that music?” he asked hearing the Ice-cream jingle.
“Proximity alarm, we must be close to the debris field. I have the light speed drive set to favorites so it tells us when we arrived” William said, rushing to the front of the ship and hopping over the door of his convertible Fusion. He shifted into viewer-mode and began scanning for useful bits.
“Amazing, so this is the Earth Debris.” Marley said, hopping into the passenger side and buckling up.
“Location is a secret between the two of us historians.” He nodded.
“Doesn’t your mate know too?” he asked.
“My mate…the girl?” he asked.
“I assumed she was. You look similar and are traveling together, alone. Plus you seem to hate each other. I can’t think of another good reason she would endanger herself in this ship if she isn’t a scavenger and she is your mate.”
“We’re not even the same species.” William said looking slightly offended.
“You humanoids all look alike to me. What is that thing?” he asked.
“Part of an old apple store, not a fan of apples myself, they get freezerburnt and go bitter. Nothing valuable. Watch for frozen birds, they get stuck in the turbine and wreak havoc on your blades. At least they don’t attack you. I found part of a video file some time ago with some early humans firing frozen chickens into windshields. Apparently chickens were prone to attacking and penetrating your front glass. It must have been a real problem.” He noted.
“That’s terrifying.” Marley said looking adorably mortified.
“Yea, they just fly right at you and tear through the hull, engines, cockpit. The audio was ruined but the video was rather clear. Chickens were a serious threat to early space-travel vehicles. I’m sure they can’t get through a more modern craft, that front glass is 2 inches thick.” He assured, dodging a small rock.
“Yes, such a formidable beast would never think to aim for the flapping tape circle on top that ironically resembles a target.”
“Don’t worry about it. Hey, here we go. You wanted food...forget the ration packs…I present to you the jackpot of debris.” He said veering towards a semi-trailer spinning adrift with a big red and white logo. He fired the grappling hook and began bracing. There was a hefty thud and they were locked in. footsteps approached softy, yet angrily.
“What the Shit, Lawg?! You can’t warn me before you go ramming something?” said an angry Uka with her blue bed-hair frizzed.
“Sorry, forgot you were sleeping. We found something good.” He said carefully manipulating the grappling arm to guide the debris chunks to the new cargo-bay.
They stood in the cargo bay.
“See? Gold-mine.” He said standing proudly with his foot on a pair of mangled vending machine.
“So these metal crates have food in them?” asked Uka.
“This one has liquids, the other has solid rations. They’re sealed pretty tight so most of the cans and packages are preserved.” He said as he pried the front off and with a tail-wiggle, Marley snagged the first can that fell out and began trying to bite it open.
“Pull tab on top open the cans.” said William. There was a faint click and then a deep concussive detonation, bouncing Marley off the side wall and droplets of soda rained down on them.
“Yea you gotta tap them for a minute while they warm up. The vacuum of space does weird shit to carbonated stuff. You wouldn’t think bubbles would pack that kind of force but, well, there you have it.” he casually said tapping the top of his can as Marley just laid there, sprawled out like a rag doll.
“What is this stuff?” asked Uka.
“Human Soda. Mostly sugar and caffeine, perfect chasers and packed with essential calories. The Cocaine Company developed it for a mixer in the early 1700’s. Very hard to get this stuff anywhere but the debris field is just loaded with them. As Captain, I call dibs on the red ones. Everything else is fair scavenge. He said grabbing a red can and putting it under his arm to warm. He walked to the nearby cabinet and dug around for a bottle of Cuban rum. He opened it and gave the can a few taps before slowly cracking it.
“Best drink ever invented: Rum and Cola. They called this a Chupacabra.” He said proudly getting the mix just right and sipping it gently, noticing Marley still lying prone and his foot twitching.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“Nah, he’s fine. Delmarians are tougher than they look.” He muttered, strolling to the closet to store his prizes.
“Don’t they usually move a little bit?” she asked.
“I dunno…I’m a historical scavenger not an alien medic. Try lightly kicking his chintacles.” He suggested.
“Aren’t those genitalia?” she asked.
“Nope, common mistake. Those are electronic scenting glands or something.”
“That can’t be accurate.” She doubted, lightly poking him with her shoe. He groaned and opened his eyes.
“Nope. He is alive.” she smiled.
“Damn right I am!” he wheezed. “And you better not be thinking about eating me, even if I was dead. You carnivores are disgusting.” Marley yelled.
“You just said Delmarians are warriors and you massacred the Kepler Empire or something.” William said enjoying his Cuban Libra, or whatever.
“War is hell, man. A lot of people die, but eating the bodies is a totally different low.” He said snatching the soda from William, who opened it as he was preaching and handed it his direction. He swigged it down and let out a belch.
“That is actually pretty good.” He admitted just before the lights went out. There was silence in the darkness as a sudden and quiet chuckle filled the cargo bay.
“You guys can’t see in the dark can you?” asked Marley.
“Come on, man. Don’t be a furry little dick, turn the light back on.” insisted William. The sound of furry feet patting away proceeded the awkward silence.
“Blow me up with a beverage and then ask me to turn the lights back on.” He muttered leaving the cargo bay with his drink.
“So…you like the soda?” he asked the darkness.
“You set the kitchen light alarm to switch to the red lights that you forgot to replace… didn’t you?” Uka asked in the blackness, cracking open a soda.
“Yep…Chupacabra?” he asked, holding out the bottle in whatever direction he assumed she was.
“I hate you.” she muttered.