Setting: Deep Space
Genre: Steam punk
Characters: Space Bears
Teenage Martian monkeys
Protagonist: Nah Lonely: Space pirate/privateer
Antagonist: Galactic Federation Ship Capt. Jimmy Timbuk Perk
So, I know what I said about not revisiting characters and stories with this story time experiment. Well, I’m adding an addendum to that, because I found myself having a lot of fun with this particular story; and decided to make it a miniseries! Don’t worry, you won’t have to wait a week for the next part, I’m simply posting the first part now and the next part over Friday and Saturday respectively: think of it like a short running cereal! The reason for this being I have learned a lesson; I will stop trying to bend universal rules to my whim and I accept that the chaos of Thursdays can not be harnessed; as such from now on story time entries are guaranteed for Fridays and no longer Thursdays; not to say they might not make it up on Thursday, but no more guarantee of it. Immediately following this weeks entry submissions for next weeks entry will be open, but be sure to check back on Friday and Saturday to find out what’s become of our Marauding Space Privateer, Nah Lonely!
The Intergalactic Exploits of Nah Lonely
The Dive was solid, but aged. The castilium iron of its construction seemed to have finally began to succumb under the unyielding barrage of moisture provided by the climate, its own broken pressure valves and even its clientele. The evidence was apparent everywhere, like a spreading batch of leprosy across the establishment: rust. I mean hell, even the booth I’m sittin’ in’s covered with rust. But what are you gonna do? The universe is a hard place. You either turn yourself into a well polished cog, and jump into the ever grinding machine that is the oppression of the Pan Galactical Federation: or you spin free, and try to create your own perpetual motion; the only problem is, its pretty dirty being free. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. That’s what keeps me sitting in this booth; drinking this liquid that’s got way too much shit floating in it to just be whiskey, while giving it my best damn effort to keep this cigarette lit in this awful humidity. The client will show. And when he does, it’ll be worth it. If the cargo is half as valuable as he says it is, this little cog will be able to have his very own, secluded self, clean, freedom.
As I look around at the various patrons littering the establishment, I grow slightly uneasy. There are faces I recognize and faces I don’t. There’s fellow free spinning cogs I’ve had altercations with in the past, and number I hope to avoid in the future. I give up on this sorry excuse for a drink, and reach my hand under my duster and into my lapels pocket, freeing the watch I carried in there. it’s a relic of an antique; originally constructed on earth, its not what one would consider the most efficient interstellar time keeper, but it reminds me of home. Besides, it’s not that hard to translate different species measure of time, into something equivalent to what this does. Unfortunately, according to this my clients about twenty minutes late. Then again, maybe he’s here and I just don’t know it. I don’t have a name, a species, or any description of what to go off, except location, right down to this booth, and time, which had already passed.
I slip my watch back into its pocket, and slowly brush my hand against my Zap-Tess-4000, in its shoulder holster; reaffirming its ease of access. With that confidence, I can wait a little longer.
hiiissssssss.
GONK!
I look to the entrance, toward the sound of the latest ruckus to enter the bar.
Hiiiissssss.
GONK!
Now this is interesting, here we have something you don’t see everyday. A patron upwards of eight hundred pounds; wearing some form of white insulated space suit, with a matching bowl of a helmet, completely obscuring its contents; and piston driven prosthetic left leg.
Hiiiiissss.
GONK!
Never seen him before
HiiiiSSS.
GONK!!
Probably the client.
HIIISSSS.
GONK!!!
HIIIISSSS!
CLANK!
pssssssssssssshhhhh.
“Nah Lonely?” a muffled rasp of a voice, asked me from beneath the indiscernible bowl.
I tip down the tip of my hat, obscuring my face before I respond,“Well, you see; that really depends on whose asking?”
HIIISSS.
GONK!
pppsssssshhhhh.klang.pssssssssss.
It sat down opposite of me at the table.
“I’m here to discuss a business deal with Mr. Lonely.”
“I’m listening,” I told him, while discarding the failed remains of my cigarrette into my supposed whiskey.
“You see, Mr. Lonely, my associates and I have a very sensitive package that must be delivered with the utmost of care and discretion.”
“Define discretion.”
“We would like to avoid any Federation interference.”
“Uh-huh; and why’s that?”
“Let’s just say, for the sake of existence, this package can’t fall into their hands.”
“Now, see; it’s the whole cloak and dagger debacle about this operation that makes me wonder, why the hell was I contacted?”
“My associates and I have heard you have no love loss for the Federation, and you have experience with the planet the package is intended for.”
“It’s true, I’m not a fan of the Federation; there a bunch of ignorant tyrants, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking for a fight with them.”
“Your reputation precedes you Mr. Lonely; this is another, reason we choose you; the Pan Galactical Federation, must be avoided at all costs for this operation.”
“You finally said the magic “C” word my friend; exactly, how much are you and your associates looking to spend on this little operation?”
“We can offer you eight hundred thousand somollions, for your service.”
The intel was right, I could definitely buy my own corner of freedom with that.
“That’s a hefty sum, my friend. Where exactly is the package going? You said I’m familiar with it’s destination?”
“Yes, your destination is the planet, earth; more specifically the village of Kodiak in Alaska.”
And there’s the damn catch, “Earth? You want me to avoid confrontation with Federation, and fly right into one of there most heavily guarded territories? Are you high? I told you I’m not looking for a fight with them; I don’t give slug of Ganellia about and freedom causes; I’m just trying to make a buck my friend.”
“That’s all we are offering you Mr. Lonely; the opportunity to make a lot of bucks as it were.”
They’ve always gotta hit ya were it hurts the pocket book. I can’t do this job; I don’t even know what I’m hauling. Captain Perk of P.G.F.S.S. Cumulus already despises me; imagine if he caught me sneaking a bomb or something onto earth! There’s no way, I’d walk away from it.
“Look Mr. Piston Leg; I appreciate that you and your colleagues thought of me, but the fact of the matter is I’m not going to be able to accept the job,” as I finish declining his offer, I begin to rise: only to be pushed back into my seat by the giant, powerful hand of my companion sitting opposite of me.
“Listen Mr. Lonely, this is not exactly an offer you can refuse. Tell me what you know of space travel.”
“Excuse me?”
“What is the fastest way to travel?”
“Worm hole gates.”
“Exactly! Such things are naturally occurring in the universe; they can accelerate you to the speed of light and deposit you anywhere, they naturally are; but what if there was an even more accurate and faster way to travel? What if a ship or vehicle, could be transported anywhere within the universe?”
Now, this coot has got my attention again. Talking about a means of travel all life has lusted for sense first inventing the wheel.
“I’d say it could be one of the greatest discovery’s in all of history.”
“Exactly Mr. Lonely! But only if it was developed correctly. I want you to imagine if the Federation developed or had access to such technology, do you still think it would be so great?”
“Well, probably not. It could give them the strategic advantage over any civilization outside of their jurisdiction.”
“You are completely correct Mr. Lonely. Now tell me, are you familiar with the Alaskan Village of Kodiak?”
“No I am not; but I assume that it’s cold.”
“HAHAHA! Indeed it is Mr. Lonely, indeed it is. Now, you must understand that the Village of Kodiak is not acknowledged by the Pan Galactical Federation as having membership, nor representation in the Federation; rather it is a sovereign nation within a Federation controlled planet.”
Oh boy. I don’t remember any sovereign nations on earth with eight hundred pound humans; I have a feeling I know where this is going and there’s gonna be know way to refuse.
“And what exactly inhabits this nation?”
My guest moved his massive, gloved paws to the front visor of his fish bowl helmet and raised the visor, to reveal his face. A face that looked as native to earth has my own; as I stared into large monocle which had clearly been installed to replace a lost left eye, I couldn’t help but find myself disgusted at the atrocities against nature my kind had committed before space travel. Terrified of exploring the unknown for themselves, experimenting on creatures which had no business to make that evolutionary bound when they did, strapping them in on the earliest astro trains, and firing them into the dark abyss of space.
Space Bears. Why did it have to be Space Bears.
“You see Mr. Lonely; it is my fellow Conscious brothers and sisters in that village; those whom have never been allowed to fulfill their only mission in life and explore the stars.”
“Your gonna appeal to that deep seeded guilt I harbor for being human, aren’t you?”
“No Mr. Lonely; I simply plan to appeal to you as one sentient being to another. Tell me, do you know what sublimation is?”
“What does the act of a solid transitioning directly to gas have to do with anything?”
“It has to do with everything! The package you will be delivering to my earth locked brethren, is a prototype sublimation drive!”
“A what?”
The bear leaned in very close to me and began to speak very softly, “It’s an engine that can instantly sublimates the ship and all of its occupants; while maintain their general molecular form; this is where it gets tricky; while everything is in a gaseous state, but still maintaining a semi familiar molecular structure, the entire vehicle can slip through abnormalities of space and time to reappear at a location which contains a similar mass to the ship while in its gaseous forms, in accordance with the transitive properties of existence.”
“It turns you into a gas and then it switches you with other gases anywhere in the universe?”
“Essentially yes.”
“Then why don’t you use it reach your friends?”
“Ah, well you see; the engine is a prototype, and as such we can’t really utilize it yet.”
“That doesn’t make sense? Your sending an untested engine to your people as their salvation?”
“Alas, it is our only choice. The Pan Galactical Federation, has received intel of the technology we have developed and are currently actively pursuing any and all known space bears. Hence the discretion of my attire,” he told me; while lowering his visor again.
“What if it doesn’t work? What if I take it to your people and you’ve got something wrong and then the federation gets a hold of it?”
“They will have to go through much more bureaucracy to invade a sovereign territory; those of us not on our home planet are being pursued as deserters.”
“I still don’t understand why you just don’t use the drive to pop in and snag your brethren and then pop out with them. Why this whole big to do?”
“Again, all of my kind currently not on earth are wanted for treason; it would be suicide for us to attempt any such rescue; you’re a disenfranchised privateer; you won’t be expected. And besides if you wish to try out the engine you may.”
“Sorry papa bear; I’m not gonna take my time to install this hot commodity on my ship, then have to uninstall it upon delivery.”
“You won’t have to take time for anything; my associates have been installing the engine on your ship while we’ve discussed the details; think of it as our collateral. However you arrive at earth, be it conventional combustidium steam power, or by sublimation, you will simply turn over your ships to the inhabitants of Kodiak Village; they will then transfer you your eight hundred thousand soma lions as well as a new astro train.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s ridiculous! I’m not doing any of that! I need at least half my fee upfront and I will never give up the Centennial Raven!”
“I’m afraid this is not up for negotiation, Nah Lonely; the modifications are already done. Refuse and be responsible for the down fall of free space as we know it.”
Why did it have to be space bears?
***
To Be Continued
***
By: Michael Wilshire
I love it bro!!!!
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