Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

If it was true the Boranjame gobbled up planets to construct this ship, you could literally see where one ended and another began.

The temperature was cool, but it was humid. I looked for mold or mildew, which should have definitely been present given the level of water in the air, but I saw none, even in the remotest crevices.

The purple Po was obviously making a conscious effort not to be as twitchy as his comrades. Actually I couldn’t say that for sure, since I had no idea about their physiology. Maybe it was just old.

We kept going and going and going. My recently busted knee was slowing me down more than usual. Finally I had to speak up.

“Um, excuse me, can we take a break?”

“Break?” it asked.

“I’m tired. You’re too fast. How far away is”—and I realized I didn’t know where we were going or what we were doing—“do we have to go?”

“You are fatigued?” it asked.

“Yes.”

“You shall rest.”

I sat on the floor and caught my breath.

Looking at the Po I could see how they’d evolved. You could literally not tell which direction they were going until they were there. A pouncing animal would just as likely hit a tree as catch one of these things.

After a bit we headed off again. We passed quite a few more hallways and I couldn’t be sure, but I think more Po joined us. The Therezians were as impassive as ever. Yeah, imagine an army of them. I wondered if they knew Wallow.

It took a while, but we finally stopped outside another opening.

“Hank the Boss. You may enter. You will speak later.”

I was expecting to see the Boranjame inside, not that I would recognize one if I saw it, but instead it was simply an unbelievably ornate room filled with creatures.

The aliens in the room were a long ways off and clustered into individual groups as if they were shy. Or racists. There were some Po, but the rest of the creatures, dozens of them, looked to represent every major species in the galaxy.

The lighting in the room was dim, with the figures obscured in shadows. The carpeting was thick, red, and luxurious. There was statuary and artwork placed all over. It reminded me of the Belvaille Athletic Club where the gang bosses congregated.

I wasn’t particularly sure where I was or what I was supposed to do, but I knew I was hungry, and tired, and a bit gross from my time in space.

I figured I had better freshen up and get something to eat before presenting myself, or the rest of the galaxy would think Colmarians are a disheveled race with growling stomachs that smell of space urine. Much to my delight, one of the first items I saw inside the room was a refrigerator. I walked over to it, grasped the handle and tried to pull it open, but only succeeded in bending the metal frame.

“Stop it,” the refrigerator said.

“Oh,” I said, backing up. “Sorry, I was just looking for something to eat.”

“Do I look edible?” it asked. Its voice, though clearly artificial, was full of sarcasm.

“I thought you were a container,” I explained. “What… what exactly are you, if I may ask?”

“I believe your species refers to us as ‘Dredel Led,’” the refrigerator said with clear distaste.

Surely there was no other Colmarian in history who had seen and fought and tried to get food from as many Dredel Led as I had. It’s like they were stalking me.

For a moment I was worried it might cause trouble, but then I realized it wouldn’t fight here—not on a Boranjame ship. Not when they got two Therezians strolling around.

“What brought you guys to Belvaille, anyway?” I asked, figuring now was a good time to inquire.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” it answered.

“Those dead… uh”—wondering what I should call them instead of Dredel Led—“robots at Belvaille.”

“Dead? Your species is so pathetic. You have no idea what this galaxy holds.”

“Well, our empire stretches across most of it,” I said with some small amount of umbrage.

“You don’t have an empire. It’s a collection of all the races no one else wanted.” The robot, if it’d had features, would have been sneering. Though the corner where I’d bent it kind of looked like it was grinning stupidly.

“Maybe. Maybe. But we sure killed the crap out of those robots you sent to Belvaille,” I said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the refrigerator repeated.

I wasn’t going to outsmart this metal box and it obviously didn’t have any food, so I left.

Making friends. Making friends.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to grab a Po and missing utterly.

More of them flittered by and I decided to try and communicate with my arms, waving them around excitedly. Hopefully they wouldn’t take offense.

One “paused” in front of me, though it continued to move even while staying relatively in the same spot.

“Hi. I’m really hungry and covered in waste. Is there any place I can wash and get something to eat?”

The Po in front of me motioned wildly. The signal was picked up by another across the room. And another. Then another. Within seconds, Po I hadn’t even seen were all taking up the call. A group corralled me and got me moving again.

I followed them for some time, winding through the ship, and they led me into a room that had a bed, although it was so large you could land a shuttle on it. The Po departed and closed the giant doors.

The room itself had no carpeting and was warmer than the rest of the ship had been. Its surfaces and structures were composed of what looked to be a dark green, crystalline material. It was smooth to the touch, but hairline fractures could be seen all throughout it, which gave an odd impression that the room was going to shatter at any moment. It was decorated much like a hotel room of enormous proportions.

I looked around and while I didn’t find a sink, there was a swimming pool. It had entry points with steps of various sizes, some utterly massive.

I tested the water, found it a bit chilly but good enough, and sunk into it. The water immediately turned murky at my entry, but was quickly filtered clear again.

Floating in the water gave me the ugly sensation of being back in space, so I cleaned up as best I could and exited. I then noticed a whole wardrobe had been placed nearby. Those Po sure were sneaky.

They even had a pink bathrobe with my title and name on the front. On the rear it said “Colmarian Confederation.” Like that was my sports team.

I looked at the robe for some time, wondering if I should get them to exchange it, but they had gone to the trouble to get it monogrammed. Besides, just because pink was a pansy color where I came from didn’t mean anything out here. For all I knew it could be the galactic color of death and destruction.

I finished putting on the clothes, which included underwear, shirt, pants, and slippers, all perfectly fit. Did they take my measurements when they ripped off my spacesuit or were the Po the universe’s super tailors?

Moments later about twenty Po arrived, deposited a table of food, and were gone. If I’d sneezed I would have missed them.

There was quite a variety to eat, but I wasn’t sure what any of it was. Did they know my biology? What if they accidentally gave me poison? Or what if I ate something that gave me diarrhea? I needed to talk to people and I couldn’t do it throwing up. As I passed over the various things that were presumably edible, it became clear that the Po had no idea what I specifically ate. There were slimy puddles of foul-smelling grease and live wormlike things that squirmed when I poked at them.

I was certain I’d go hungry until at the end of the table I discovered some rations, which I thankfully consumed. While eating as far from the disgusting table as possible, a Po with yellow wristbands appeared.