The ISS Salazar sailed silently through the cold void of space toward its destination deep within Empire territory. On board the tiny transport ship was a crew of only two: Lieutenant Jackson and Lieutenant Johnson, two of the Empire's most unremarkable officers.
They had completed the simple task of retrieving a small package from the Solitude Research Sation and were now on course to deliver it to a secret facility on Mega Earth in the Sol system. Unfortunately, their latest fold had brought them to the Corvus Margin, whose infamous sensor-scrambling nebula had scrambled the Salazar's sensors quite infamously.
"Where the heck are we now?" Johnson asked.
"No idea," replied Jackson. "I can't get the nav computer back online."
"Oh well," said Johnson. "I guess we'll just have to wait until we push through the nebula to fire up the Origami Drive again."
Jackson let out an annoyed sigh. "You know, I don't understand how you can be so calm about all of this," he remarked. "We get assigned to this weird mission to the middle of nowhere to pick up a crate with a bunch of skulls stamped all over it with no explanation whatsoever. Doesn't that strike you as even a little bit odd?"
"Well, yes, obviously," Johnson replied. "But we're just a couple of lowly officers with orders to follow. It's not like we have any say in what the higher-ups do."
"But this is all really suspicious!" Jackson exclaimed. "What could possibly be so important that it has to be delivered to Mega Earth in secret? Is this thing gonna make our ship explode for no reason if we know too much? I'm telling you, Johnson, there's something fishy going on here."
"Yeah, I know it's fishy, but what do you want me to do about it?" Johnson asked. "Say 'no' and get court-martialed so they can fire us out of a cannon into the nearest sun? I am 100% screaming internally about this entire situation, but we have our orders, and our only option is to follow them."
Jackson let out another annoyed sigh. "It just feels wrong, you know?" he said. "Like we're being used as pawns in some greater game."
"Welcome to life in the Empire, buddy," Johnson replied. "We're all just pawns in some greater game. The only thing we can do is try to enjoy the ride and hope we don't get blown up along the way."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Jackson. "We'll probably be fine anyway."
Suddenly, the Salazar shook violently as red warning lights filled the cabin and alarms blared throughout the ship. Jackson and Johnson looked at each other and gave a resigned sigh as their ship exploded for no reason.
* * *
It was a day like any other on the boring backwater planet known as Hogwash, a nearly forgotten dustball of a world where the Empire dumped its garbage and dreams went to die. The hot sun seared the wasteland outside while Spaceman sat comfortably in his air-conditioned shanty, munching on a bowl of Space Snackies in his underwear while catching up on his favorite show, 'Blade of Destiny.'
It was a cheesy but fun fantasy drama about three friends, a magic sword, and the cosmic struggle between Good and Evil. It was far from groundbreaking, but it still provided a nice distraction from the dull reality of working as a glorified dumpster diver on a planet covered in garbage.
Spaceman watched intently as Hiro and his companions fought their way through an army of skeletons, goblins, and other monsters to confront Zedd, the big, bad, evil guy. Of course, Zedd revealed himself to be Hiro's long-lost twin brother, who had been corrupted by the forces of darkness. But as the two brothers drew swords and prepared for their climactic battle, the screen went black, and the narrator cut in.
"OH, NO!" he cried. "The dastardly Zedd was Hiro's long-lost brother all this time! What sinister plan does he have in store for our brave heroes? Will Hiro be able to put his familial bonds aside and stand against Zedd's dark magic with the Blade of Destiny in hand? Or will EVIL triumph over GOOD? Find out on next week's episode of... BLADE OF DESTINY!"
As the credits rolled and the upbeat closing theme blasted from the speakers of Spaceman's StarSmartTV, he felt his blood boil. He hated cliffhanger endings more than anything. "WHAT?!" he huffed, calling upon every ounce of willpower to prevent himself from throwing his bowl of cereal at the TV. "A another cliffhanger?! Again?! 'Blade of Destiny...' More like... 'Blade of... MY BUTT!'"
Spaceman snatched up the remote and pressed the power button as angrily as one could press a tiny button. But how was he supposed to pass the time now? One might think the galaxy-spanning communications network that was the Galactic Neo Cyber Matrix would have something good on one of its thousands of channels, but to Spaceman, most of it was hot garbage that he had already seen. His neighbor Katarina had suggested he pick up a SpaceFlix subscription a few times, but it's tough to buy things online when you don't have a credit card and your name is 'Spaceman.'
"What a minute!" he shouted. "That's it! I can just go mooch off of Kat!"
With renewed purpose, Spaceman finished off the rest of his Space Snackies, tiny marshmallows and all, and then threw on his space suit before heading out into the streets of Junk City. Calling it a city was a generous prospect, but there was certainly plenty of junk lying around. It wasn't all bad, though; nobody really cared who you were out here, so it was easy enough to make a living, even for someone who happened to find themselves on the Cosmic Star Empire's naughty list.
Spaceman casually made his way through the streets, and although he had been a resident for well over a year now, he still got the occasional confused stare from his fellow Junk City neighbors. Being the sort of person who refuses to leave their house without wearing a full space suit is bound to garner some odd looks, but it's worth having climate control and a filtered air supply on a whole planet's worth of Space OSHA violations.
Before long, Spaceman arrived at his destination: MacKenzie's Repair Shop. Like every other building on the block, it was a mess of scrap held together by rust and failure, but a sign on the roof displayed an anthropomorphic cartoon cat wearing welding goggles, holding a giant wrench in one of its paws, and giving a thumbs-up with the other. It smiled down at prospective customers as they approached and proudly declared Katarina's shop to be 'Junk City's #3 repair shop.'
After taking a few moments to admire 'Mechanic Cat,' Spaceman pushed through the front door, and a small bell rang as he entered. "Hey, Kat!" he shouted. "Where you at?"
Katarina looked up at him from the roller engine she was working on and glared at him with an icy stare. Her navy coveralls were smeared with grease and all kinds of other goop, and her red hair was tied back into a messy bun. "What do you want, Spaceman?" she asked, making no effort to conceal the annoyance in her voice. "I got a lotta work to do today. No time for shenanigans. Jukkau, where's that wrench?!"
"
"Uh... hi," Spaceman addressed the matari. "I guess you're Kat's new assistant?"
"
"That's neat," Spaceman said. "I've never met a matari before."
"
"That's Spaceman," she replied. "He's some weirdo who lives down the road. Sells me scrap sometimes, but he mostly just hangs around and annoys me. So what do you want?"
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"Oh, right," Spaceman said. "I need to borrow your SpaceFlix account."
Katarina rolled her eyes at him. "Really?" she groaned. "That's the reason you're interrupting my work?"
"Um... yes?" Spaceman replied sheepishly.
"Didn't you just get one of those stupid StarSmart TVs or whatever?" she asked. "You know, with the 'thousands of channels on the GNCM, so I'll never get bored,' as you so wonderfully put it when you tried to convince me to buy one?"
"Well, yeah," Spaceman replied. "But that's the thing! There's still nothing good on! Everybody thinks ending every episode on a cliffhanger is the cool thing to do now, and it's really getting on my nerves! So lemme use your SpaceFlix."
Katarina gave a frustrated sigh. "Look, Spaceman, the fact that you didn't like the ending to your silly little dragon show or whatever is absolutely not my problem."
"First of all, RUDE," Spaceman argued. "Second, there are no dragons in 'Blade of Destiny.' You're thinking of 'XTREEM Dragon Diplomacy,' which, yes, was pretty good for six seasons, but they did kind of phone it in for the last two. Third, I will be bored with nothing to watch, and if I am bored, I will probably keep bothering you all day. Do you really want me to bother you all day, Kat?"
Katarina let out a sigh. "Ugh, no," she replied. "I don't need you hanging around here all day while I'm trying to work. But I'm not just gonna let you sponge off me without doing me a favor first."
"Ah, beans."
The mechanic put her hands on her hips. "Do you want the SpaceFlix or not?"
"Fine," Spaceman relented. "What do you want me to do? Help you fix something?"
"No, you are not touching anything in my shop," Katarina said flatly. "I need you to do your scavenger thing and check out a wreck in the wasteland. An Imperial ship went down early this morning and crashed about 20 klicks northeast of here. I wanted to check it out on my own, but Jukkau and I are up to our elbows in work orders. So if you can go look around for any good scrap, then I'll let you use my account. I'll even let you borrow my roller."
Spaceman nodded. "Alright, sounds fair enough."
Katarina hesitantly tossed him the keys to her truck. "Don't wreck my ride, please," she said. "I just gave it a tuneup."
"Did you forget I used to pilot spaceships?" Spaceman replied as he caught them with one hand. "I think I can handle a roller."
"Whatever you say, Spaceman," Katarina remarked, clearly unimpressed. "Now get moving before I change my mind."
Spaceman strolled across the shop to where Katarina's off-road pickup truck was parked. It had definitely seen better days; the paint was chipped and rusted, and a few of its parts looked like they were held on with a mixture of duct tape and spite. But it ran well enough, and that's all that really mattered out here in the middle of nowhere. He hopped into the driver's seat and started it up, and the engine roared to life.
However, as he opened the garage door and prepared to set out, a large, white-feathered goose stood in the way, slowly flapping its wings as it honked loudly. It stared at Spaceman with its beady eyes as if to challenge him. "What's going on, Mr. Goose?" Spaceman asked. "You wanna help me go sift through some space junk?"
"HONK!"
Katarina looked up from her work and let out a sigh. "If that damned bird poops in my truck, I'll smack you with my wrench, Spaceman," she warned.
Spaceman looked to her, then back at the goose. "Okay, fine, Mr. Goose," he said, "but you can't poop in the truck or Kat will bonk me with wrenches."
"HONK!"
Spaceman opened the passenger door, and the goose waddled over and hopped up into the cab. "Good bird," he said. "Let's go find some space junk, and maybe you can find a tasty bug or something."
"HONK!"
The goose flapped its wings and settled in for the ride, and then Spaceman eased on the accelerator and pulled into traffic. The drive through the city was uneventful, and it wasn't long before Spaceman and his new avian companion passed through the city's perimeter wall and out into Hogwash's untamed wastes.
Even though Hogwash was technically an imperial world, Junk City didn't have much in the way of law enforcement. People generally kept out of each other's hair within city limits, but it probably helped that nearly everyone had a weapon within arm's reach, Spaceman included. He never left home without his trusty IA-44 blaster pistol on his hip.
Out in the wild, however, things were much less civilized. Among the piles of trash that dominated Hogwash's surface were plenty of bandits and raider clans who were more than willing to shoot outsiders and take their stuff. The wildlife was even worse-giant scorpions, venomous snakes, and all sorts of other nightmarish creatures looking for their next meal. Spaceman's "profession" of scavenging through the trash wasn't easy or safe by any means, but it was one of maybe a handful of ways to make a decent living on this world.
Luckily, the drive through the wasteland was largely uneventful, and Spaceman arrived at the crash site well ahead of schedule. He had little difficulty spotting the still-smoldering wreckage from beyond the horizon, and he could smell the burning metal from quite a distance away, even with the air filters in his suit running. He parked the truck nearby, hopped out, and grabbed a toolkit from the trunk.
Spaceman began his usual process of surveying the fresh wreck, searching for anything that looked useful. What remained of the ship was nothing like the usual automated trash transports he was used to; this was a military shuttle meant for maybe a handful of passengers. It looked like something had exploded from the inside, tearing the hull into the mess of jagged bits of metal now resting in the dirt.
It looked like the escape pods had been jettisoned, so at the very least, the ship's occupants had likely survived whatever disaster had destroyed their ship. With his conscience clear, Spaceman continued his work.
He was barely a few minutes in when he was distracted by some distressed honking from Mr. Goose. Spaceman turned back toward the truck just in time to see Mr. Goose wildly flap his wings before launching himself through the open window and disappearing into the wastes. "Mr. Goose, where are you going?" Spaceman shouted after him. "I thought we were bros!"
Suddenly, Spaceman felt a strange prickly feeling on the back of his neck, warning him of imminent danger. He quickly scanned his surroundings for potential threats, but there was nothing nearby besides the wrecked shuttle. The sensation soon faded, and with a shrug, Spaceman returned to his scavenging.
As he continued digging through the wreck, something unusual caught his attention. Barely hidden beneath a large piece of the hull was a dull metallic box about half a meter wide and half a meter tall. It was covered in various depictions of skulls, likely to warn off scavengers like Spaceman from tampering with it, but that wasn't about to stop Spaceman from getting that SpaceFlix password from Katarina, so he reached out to touch it.
"THIS IS NO ORDINARY BOX!" a voice suddenly shrieked from the container.
Spaceman recoiled in horror but stood his ground. "Well, obviously!" he shouted back. "Boxes are not supposed to talk!"
"BUT THIS ONE DOES," thundered the horrifying voice once again. "AND IT HAS MUCH TO TELL YOU!"
Spaceman swallowed hard. That sounded pretty ominous, but now this talking box had his attention. "Just what is so important that you have to share it with me?" he asked. "And it better be more important than SpaceFlix!"
"TOUCH THE BOX, AND ALL WILL BE REVEALED!"
"Uh... okay?"
Spaceman gingerly put his hand on top of the box, but as soon as he connected with it, he was overwhelmed by incomprehensible visions. Scenes of soldiers fighting, planets exploding, an evil-looking guy laughing evilly, and many other things too fast, violent, or boring for him to keep up with flashed before his eyes. When the visions finally stopped, Spaceman no longer stood among the wreckage on Hogwash.
* * *
Spaceman woke up surrounded by darkness, with a lone figure standing before him. The figure was clad in an Imperial pilot's suit, his features hidden behind the faceless helmet. "Oh, look," he spoke with a mocking tone, "it's this loser."
Quickly rising to his feet, Spaceman pointed a finger at the Imperial. "You're the loser, loser!" he shot back. "Strutting around in that Empire uniform like you own the place. Shouldn't you be off licking a boot or committing war crimes somewhere?"
The Imperial crossed his arms and shook his head. "Look how far you have fallen!" he taunted. "When you're not picking through the Empire's literal garbage like a starving vulture, you're sitting on your butt all day watching TV. You could have changed the galaxy, but look at what you've become! You've got some nerve trying to call me the loser. At least I was willing to fight for what I believed in."
"Yeah, yeah," Spaceman waved dismissively. "I bet all the propaganda was tasty, too."
The Imperial snarled angrily and grabbed Spaceman's wrist, yanking him closer until his face was mere inches away. "You traitor!" he growled. "How could you turn on your people like this?"
"Because 'my people' turned out to be a bunch of evil buttholes!" Spaceman growled back.
Spaceman threw a punch at the Imperial, but he was out of practice. The Imperial deftly brushed the attack aside and countered with a strike of his own, sending Spaceman tumbling to the ground. "Pathetic."
The Imperial was really starting to get on Spaceman's nerves now, so he called upon his mystical powers. He held out a hand toward the Imperial and focused; the nearby space distorted, flexed, and twisted as the laws of physics were temporarily forgotten about until Spaceman released the gathered energies into a wave of telekinetic force. The blast struck true, knocking the Imperial onto his back. "Hah!" Spaceman gloated. "Chew on that, you jerk!"
They both rose to their feet, and the Imperial dusted himself off, seemingly unharmed by Spaceman's mystical attack. "That wasn't very 'Radical' of you, Space Wizard," he said. "Or should I say 'Space Apprentice?' Or how about 'dumb loser who ran away and never finished his training?' You ran from that life too, just like the rest of your failures."
Spaceman shook his head. Whatever was happening here, he was beyond done with it. "You know what?" he asked. "This is stupid. You're stupid. And you dress stupid. I'm gonna wake up from this dumb fever dream malarky or whatever the heck. Goodbye, and don't ever talk to me again."
He plopped down on the ground and crossed his legs, closing his eyes and waiting for this nonsense to be done with.
"Very well, Spaceman," said the Imperial. "But know this: I will be here always, waiting for the day when you can truly face me, when you can truly face your own failings. Until then, enjoy the utter mediocrity that has become your life."
"Yeah, same to you, buddy."