I had two more glasses of wine before bed, which might be why I slept through a series missed calls from Henry during the night. He didn't leave any messages, which was unsurprising, but he did send a two-word text: "CALL ME." When I tried to return his call in the morning it went straight to voicemail. I figured that that Henry just had too many Macallans last night, and he was either calling to apologize for bragging about his Rolex, or to brag some more.

The Vicchady tie looked brighter, even more radiant when I lifted it out of the gift box and held it in the morning sunlight. I opted for my charcoal Armani suit (single-breasted with a flat-front) and a white Ralph Lauren dress shirt with French cuffs. It was a classic-but-plain combination: lightweight fabric for the unseasonably warm weather, and muted tones, so the orange Vicchady tie exploded in contrast. With some amount of pride, I performed a full-Windsor knot on the Vicchady, then grabbed my briefcase and headed out.

While I am fortunate to live in a house that is completely paid for, there are some disadvantages to living in Thousand Oaks. One specific disadvantage, really – traffic. The Marshall / Todd offices are in Culver City, on the west side of Los Angeles. Thousand Oaks is about thirty miles northwest, in Ventura County. On a good day, I can cut through the infamous commuter traffic in about an hour, usually a little longer, but that's only if there aren't any accidents or slowdowns.

I was halfway through my commute when a loud noise startled me - I slammed on my brakes out of instinct. Fortunately, I was at a near-standstill on the 101 Freeway when it happened or I definitely would have caused an accident. The sound continued to blare, an ear-shattering whoop like a siren or foghorn, so loud that I felt my back teeth vibrate. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was coming from my cell, sitting in its plastic cradle above the Prius' A/C controls.

My phone looked like it was having a nervous breakdown. Random colors and patterns flashed across the screen as the noise continued, growing louder and louder, more dissonant and unbearable by the second. I poked, pressed and smacked the face of the phone until, somehow, the car's Bluetooth picked up the call.

"Hello?"

"Marsh! Can you hear me?" I could barely recognize Henry's voice through the soup of crackling static. "Hello, Ma… Is… working?"

"Henry? I can barely hear you," I shouted. "What's going on?"

"Yeah, it's a …. Sorry. I'm on… Bad connection –" His voice was drowned out by a high-pitched, atmospheric whine.

"Henry? Where are you?"

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Listen…They're bouncing this call off one of the satellites on Oxtaile. It's going to be a bad connection, so I'll be quick: I'm on the planet Azodii. It's right by the… and the Qwazler Moons….just inside the Zaprath Belt."

"Sorry," I yelled into the speakerphone. "Did you say you're calling from a different planet?"

"Yes – Azodii…"

I recognized the name Azodii – it was one of the dozens of planets mentioned in The Slatt Guide to Conquerable and Unconquerable Worlds, Sixty-Fourth Edition: a set of large-volume books that Lord Farkvold had ordered translated into English so Henry and I could educate ourselves about the rest of the universe.

But aside from the name, I knew absolutely nothing about Azodii or the creatures that lived there. In fact, I only knew one thing about Azodii: it was not one of the forty-eight planets of the Slatt Territories. Azodii was still independent.

"…Sent a private cruiser ship last night, after I…" Henry continued in broken stops and starts. "You need… portal at the Blarney Stone. The High Council will explain everything. Where are you now?"

"I'm driving to work, Henry."

"What?"

"I'm driving!"

"… Shit, the time difference has me thrown off…Didn't realize it was that late. Listen, Marsh - you need to go home and grab a few things… an overnight bag. We're going to be on Azodii for the next two days…"

"Two days?"

"…. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you!

"Make sure you bring a heavy jacket. I mean, a really heavy one! It's freezing here, worse than fucking Aspen. Also…. gift, so grab some aluminum foil –"

"You want me to bring foil?"

"Yes, foil! Oh, and matches! Wooden matches… Then head to the Blarney Stone…Waiting for you at the High Council…"

"Henry?"

"….go. I'll see you soon! Hurry!"

"Henry?" The static and background noise went silent. I cursed as took the next exit and started back home, through traffic in the opposite direction.

Of course, Denise was surprised when she saw me pull into the driveway less than an hour after I left. I told her that Henry and I had to leave town for a few days to deal with a client emergency.

"Those big checks come with some strings attached," she mused as she helped me pack a small gym bag on wheels. "Where are you going? I mean, I know – 'attorney client privilege'. You can't tell me everything, but –"

"Aspen," I blurted the first city that came to mind. It also helped explain why I was taking my down-insulated red Canada Goose ski jacket, when outside we were in the middle of an early-summer heatwave.

"Is it really that cold in Aspen?" Denise asked as I unsuccessfully tried to force and stuff the jacket into the bag.

"Well, you know Aspen. Just want to be prepared," I said, giving up. "It's fine. I'll carry it."

I packed my toothbrush and toiletries, and swiped a roll of aluminum foil and a box of matches from the kitchen when Denise wasn't looking.

"I should be back Thursday," I kissed her cheek as I headed for the front door, bag in hand. "I'll try to call, but I think the reception is pretty bad up there."

"Do you want me to drop you off at the airport?" Denise asked. "I don't have to be at the office until eleven. What airline are you flying?"

"I'll be okay, thanks," I looked down. "The clients, they uh, arranged for private transportation."

Denise raised her eyebrows. "Geez, you weren't kidding. Deep pockets, indeed."