"AAAAAAAH!" A lady screamed in a terrified voice.

But it was over a Burger, that she was expecting. "This Burger has no pickles! AAAAAAH!"

"Oh whatever is the matter Miss?" said a portly-looking man that walked over to the Lady sitting at the desk. "This BURGER has pickles!"

"Well, I'm the manager!" said the man. "I'm Mister I.M. Neighborly, head of Neighborlys... Ground Level Restaurant. Because we haven't installed the Silicone Levetation Pads just yet. I will talk to our head chef about this immediately. CHEF!" he screamed.

This shout was directed at a monstrous-looking man covered in all-red, with a bushy head and beady eyes, manning the cash register and short line of people standing in front of the counter.

"Where's the New Trainee!" Neighborly shouted.

"UAAAGHK, uhhaag, eeaaugh, Oog," said the red monster pointing the direction of the kitchen. As if on cue, the The new Trainee, a fat pig, came out smelling of fresh grease and incredibly high methane. "Ye-ye-ye-ye-ye-you called sir?"

"This lady has NO pickled on her Burger! What the HECK ARE DOING IN THERE!"

"I-I-I-I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sorry, sir. B-b-b-bb-b-ut I ran out of pickles a short time ago. Someone's been sneaking back here and sneaking Pickle Rations behind our backs!"

"What!" screamed some of the Restaurant goes waiting in the line. "This is an outrage!"

"I can't LIVE without Pickles!" screamed one man, raising his fist in anger.

"It's the little things that actually make Something so..." a lady wearing a tank-top standing in line said, and sighed. "Enjoyable."

"YEAAH! Like, Bro, where's the Salt to our Peppers! The Pop to our Corn!" said a guy with a surfer accent.

"I thought we were talking about Burgers, not Popcorn," said the first guy in line.

"Trainee! When exactly did they start... disappearing? WHO'S responsible!" The manager angrily demanded. He stormed over and eyed the Cashier suspiciously, who began to form sweat drops and smiled nervously."Was it... YOU!"

The bell on the door suddenly ringed, and the door burst open. Two mean-looking police officers suddenly burst in with guns in hand. "Everyone freeze!"

"Police!"

The bald policeman walked over and showed his badge. "No need to fear sir, we're working under the soon-to-be-relatively known and somewhat famous Galactic Protectorate on official business, under investigation."

"Officers! You mean that you're hear to investigative the horrible shortage of Pickles that have been just recently stolen from my restaurant!"

"Pickles...?" said the policeman.

The second policeman walked over and said. "I've done some interviewing, sir, apparently, this restaurant is suffering a shortage of Pickles in the last hour. All customers going here have been victim of Burgers with no Pickles between the Tomatoes and meat."

The police officer's face stiffened in anger. "No... PICKLES! What sort of twisted fiend would steal pickles from a restaurant!" Then he fell on his knees. "It's like that time that my Cousin's Daughter's Niece... and the Pocky... Oh sweet Saint AlaBAMA the POCKY!" He clenched his fist, remembering the horrifying events like a movie reel. The other officer walked over and put a hand over his shoulder. "It's all right Marty. You couldn't have known. Just let it out out."

The crowd was a little confused to the events, but then the police officer got up and regained his dignity. "Uh, okay. Sir. You have any leads in mind?"

Neighborly eyed his cashier, still sweating like meat in a eatery shop during summer. "I've got a FEW."

"Sounds like enough evidence for conviction to ME," said the second officer who's name was Timmy. Timmy walked over and asked, "ALRIGHT! Where were you the Night of June 12th! Wherewasyourmotherscherrypie! What color's my UNDERWEAR!"

Except the monster was now sweating even harder till Officer Marty walked over and asked, "Uh sir, I don't think he's the one."

"Didn't our orders from Johnson say that our subject in question was hairy and suspicious-looking?" Timmy asked.

"Yeah, but," interjected Timmy, "They also said he was of a painfully physical thinness. This monster may be hairy, and maybe suspcious looking, but he's got more meat on him than a cow!"

At this the Cashier simply blushed. Marty scratched his chin thoughtful and said, "Hmm... In that case, the perp we're after is the single most hungry being in the entire galaxy since the Fred Fredburger, the Fat Free Tofu/Yogurt/Chili-Dog King from Planet Billus Mandius Grimeaus 8!"

Neighborly interjected with, "So THAT person would have more incentive to steal this restaurant's ever important supply of Pickles, the single crucial elements that make our Burgers very tasty and appealling to the public eye. Every Pickle that comes to this restaurant costs me $500.00. The same price as... ONE GALLON OF GAS."

THRUM.

"Very Tasty and Appealing the Public eye, Indeed," agreed Marty. Then he turned his attention to the crowd. "HEY! Are any of you suspicious-looking convicts of unhealthy physical shape or stealing high-priced Pickles from this eatery?"

The entire crowd looked fearful, but none of them looked like thieves. In fact, most shook their hands. The only person in that crowd of typical Burger Goers that looked even the least bit suspicious was an extremely anaemic, hungry-looking, famished, big-nosed, hairy-looking guy with a rough bushy tail standing in the back of the line and clutching some kind of salty-looking liquid in his hands... and also some on his lips, and that look of extreme panic, terror, guilt, and traumatization. And he was standing in front of some dark-skinned man with wild hair and a Hawaiian T-shirt and shorts and sandals and holding a green magazine.

"HEY you!" Marty screamed. He walked over to the hairy man. the one wearing the T-Shirt. "Where were you went they invented Hoverboards!"

"Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho maun, It it to-ta-lee really cool how Hoverboards have made the surf really all the most exciting, I hope to go back to aquatis and catch some of da best waves I've ever had!" said the cheery Hawaiian-sounding man.

Marty planned on more questions, but instead his mouth hung open like he'd just realized something had gone horribly wrong with this whole situation.

"Um... never mind. Hey, YOU!"

This was directed at the even hairier-looking man with rough and battered-looking long ears and suspicious, switching eyes... suspicious, flighty, nasty eyes. The hairy man didn't bother looking away, aware he'd been spotted.

"Yeah, YOU, BUDDY! Ya know I'ma Talkin' ta you," he said. Wile darted both eyes in other directions, a little confused.

"Have you seen anyone suspicious around pilfering Pickles, maybe a certain, hairy individual with Aneamic bodies and FREAKISHLY skinny arms!" He shouted in Wile's face.

Now the whole crowds' attention was drawn towards him. Wile's next response was a slide of the hand and then a pull to reveal a small sign that read,

(Uh... no?)

The officer stared sternly at Wile, then relented. Clearly they had no evidence. And other than the bizzare looking stranger, wearing no clothes, who'd just told him no via tiny white sign that seemed to come out of nowhere, there seemed to be absolutely nothing suspicious about the situation.

"Oh, well, mysterious guy, you have a point, thank you for your co-operation. Hey, here's 20 bucks," said Marty in a friendly voice as he handed over a nice, crisp 20 dollar bill. Now Wile was really confused; and frightened. He sniffed the bill like it was a more dangerous predator than him. Marty let out a hearty big laugh and chuckled, "Ho-ho, ah, don't worry about it, mysterious trusty stranger! Take it! You helped us confirm that the perp we're looking for is not here! It takes a lot of guts in this crazy Dog-eat-dog world of ours in the 24th & 1/2 century to still be brave enough to be an Honest joe! You earned it. Completely! And, If you're looking for a way off the planet, all you have to do is go to Akbars' Discount Intergalactic Spaceships, 2 miles north 3 meters to the left South adjacent, or next to, a Clothing Store owned by a guy named Jim!"

Wile pulled out another, slightly larger sign that said,

(... Thanks?)

Marty's hearty smile didn't fade, while Wile stood there, still holding the 20, looking as if he'd just encountered a rattlesnake that coughed up a strawberry sucker. Then out of terror, Wile turned his heels and prepared to flee, when all of a sudden, one of the restaurant goers suddenly yelled:

"HEY! I just realized he's not wearing ANY CLOTHES! AAAAAAAAH!"

And that, of course, just set the rest of the restaurant aflame with screaming customers. Most ducked under their tables and other stared slack-jawed at the "Nudist Practitioner" only several inches from the door and without any form of help in sight.

His mouth dropped open in horror (and slightly more confusion) while the officer that just handed him the 20 had done a full 360. "Wait... YEAH, you're not wearing any clothes, BUB!" Then he got up all in the poor, disgruntled coyote's face. "Well LISTEN, HERE, Trusty McRusty, WE'RE a bunch of decent Keen wizards who have the dignity and respect to think about other people's feelings! YOU think you can just stroll in here and enforce your CREEPY, misguided Hippie philosophy on an unsuspecting public! YEAH? You think you're saY-VIN' nature by abandoning your moral fibers! You think that's cool! Like... LIKE Smokin'! Well WE'RE city folk! We'all don't taek kendly to your type around here, MISTER! That is a GROSS misappropriation of the law!"

Out of his cursed Habit of "Signage", Wile said,

(Don't you mean... misinterpretation?)

And this answer was met with the officer's gun jabbed right into his nose.

"I know what I said!... Probably!"

Wile felt his whole world go white and then out of the restaurant of laughing, pig-faced humans who inhabited that tiny space. He didn't bother looking back, and his feet, pounding as hard on the pavement as his heart was from all the SHOCKS he was having, were getting the worst working out he had since he escaped from that horrible chamber that towered to the sky.

Officer Marty continued standing there with his gun looking deranged, than put it away. "Tch..." he grumbled. "Crazy kids and their New Age Nudist Jibberjabber! It makes me SICK!"

Timmy walked over while reading a small paper. "Baring the brown fur, those long ears, his bushy tail and big, floppy, doggy feet, there was something pretty suspicious about that guy, though..."

"Yeah, what's suspicious is that ANY Anthro is legally required to wear human clothing like THE REST OF US! Nasty Pervert! Just when you thought you could trust some people."

"And what about my pickles?" yelled Neighborly.

"I'm sorry sir," Marty remarked sadly. "But I guess we've run out of leads. This restaurant has run out of Pickles."

At that moment everyone heard a noise like descending fire from the sky reach the ground, and Captain Star Johnson, via jet-pack, suddenly gloriously came into view.

Marty and Timmy assumed protocol and stood at attention. "Commander!"

"Stand ground, officers. I came to check with you on a certain matter of galactic importance... and also, to buy myself a cheeseburger with... PICK-kles."

Timmy and Marty stared at each other, then Timmy nervously stated, "Well, see, ABOUT that, sir. This restaurant has run out of supply."

Johnson's face froze. "I beg your pardon...?"

Marty put it simply. "Commander, this restaurant has no more pickles. And the culprit has most likely gotten away."

Johnson was an even-tempered man at most times, but this was upsetting news at least. "But that's impossible! No restaurant should be-!"

Manager Neighborly casually noted, "Yes, we know."

"Well I'm..." Johnson tried to find the right words to express his sorrow. "Sorry to hear about that. I guess I'll have to go back to HQ for the Tacos... ahem, anyways, have you caught the escaped culprit from the Cryo-chamber, the one that looks like a coyote?"

Marty and Timmy's faces were shrouded in confusion. Johnson spotted it in several seconds. "Something wrong?"

"Sir, aren't coyotes extinct? About 99% extinct since the start of the 2nd Century!" said Timmy. "For..." he gulped hard. "Extinct. Forbidden Technology utilizing the ulterior powers sealed within Voids!"

"HOW did...?" Johnson gawked, then shook his head, and bit his lip. Instead, what came out was, "What the devil are Schools teaching these days? Never mind. Our perp is in fact, a coyote. A very wily, wiry one too. He escaped the lab no less than an hour ago. He's a Hairy, anaemic looking shut-in with inherent engineering talent, two hairy ears, one bitten, fleas all over, floppy doggy feet, and skinny arms and legs."

To say that both Timmy and Marty looked like they just dropped five loads of dangerous Fusion Grenades inside a Children's Crane machine would've been a severe understatement. Not fully aware of information that Johnson was withholding from them, or endowed with the full implications of why such a creature let alone, one of them who they (though mostly Marty) just let go free with 20 bucks AND sufficient information for a reasonably priced FREE ride off the planet, they had unexpectedly let a wanted convict by Star Johnson, their high-ranking, top of the line Captain Star Johnson, escape scott free- and IN the nude, for God's sake!

"Cadets?" Johnson asked, startled by their immensely white faces. "Something wrong?"

"Sir, if that's the description of the guy you want us to bring back then..."

- 6 minutes of a Tearful, Humiliating Recapping later... -

All three were outside. "YOU WHAT!"

"Y-you said you wouldn't get MAD, Commander!" Marty screamed.

"You EVEN gave the subject directions for ESCAPING the PLANET, YOU IDIOTS! WHERE IN YOUR HEAD DID YOU THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA! Oh, and by the way..."

In one easy, furious swoop, Johnson easily overcame the squealing Marty like a cat pouncing on a mouse. "Captain Star Johnson doesn't make ANY Promises! I only make Guarantees! And BELIEVE you me, Mister, I GUARANTEE 5 hours in the Silent Chamber as soon as I we get back to HQ!"

Johnson wasn't as furious because up to this point he felt like was just clutching at straws, over some pitiful long-lost piece of evidence of a species that was historically read as dead.

But not completely, as it turned out.

"Rings of SATURN! I'm CUTTING your Christmas bonus this break, do you hear me! Now get going, you idiots!"

Marty and Timmy needed no further excuse to not bear more horrible yelling from a superior officer. At the most, they got off easy. People who crossed Star Johnson's path were usually last seen in The Daily Blunder's headline page.

"20 Bucks! What did you expect to get with THIS?"

Of course Wile couldn't answer that question. The only thing he was thinking was how good an idea it was for him to take up a helpful suggestion from two of the biggest idiot cops he'd ever seen.

He'd arrived a large-scale junk-yard that had all the trimmings but in size felt like an ant compared with everything else in the gigantic city chock full of floating cars, and the giant monolith that was a globular sphere sitting on top of a hierarchy with all the dimensions of a huge trashcan.

This junkyard was cluttered; bent rudders to spaceships and other huge things he couldn't dream of, metal debris, Generators, scraped piles of split motors, smashed T.V.s, support beams that would've made those of greatest church in history feel miniscule, FURNACES! thin-fibered filters as long as 30 feet, and all that was just what he could see... a treasure cove of wonders and it was just the tip of the iceberg. He didn't have the time, but his mind, growing less and less "Freaked out" from all the "Advancements" he'd seen of Earth so far, was beginning to calm a little. this junk yard felt like home. Maybe this world was not as bad he thought it was...

"HEY! HEY!"

Wile snapped out of it, and saw the portly-looking man still standing in front of his shed. "What are you looking for anyway? "clothes?" You won't find that here, chum!" Then the greasy man's attention was geared away from the befuddled Wile towards something behind him. "Yesh, chum! You've got some nasty-looking friends."

Wile was thinking the same thing, but for completely different reasons. He looked absolutely destroyed.

A large fleet of officers in 9 cars had just arrived on the scene, and regrettably, the two officers he saw before who called him "Nudist".

I need to disappear FAST.

The police officers Marty and Timmy were the first to arrive on the scene with steely sternness in their eyes as they approached the proprietor. They flashed their badges as they said, "Officers Marty Fischer and Timmy Nelson. We're on investigation of a suspicious looking coyote-type character, NO clothes, is totally exposed, has the physical physique of a 5-year-old girl, and has twenty bucks on hand and no pockets to put them in due to the fact that he isn't wearing ANY pants."

The greasy man held up the 20 Dollar bill. "I can vouch for this guy on the Twenty dollars bit, but, uh, ya'll just missed'em, chums. He gave me Twenties and then lickety split. Problem, now he's somewhere inside the facility, maybe looking for a spaceship. I mean I, DO sort of have a business here in selling off old and not so useable, or safe intergalactic travelling devices. I am, Akbar, after all."

Most of the other officers weren't even paying attention. They were staring at the sky, with their mouths hanging open.

"What's everybody looking at?" said Akbar, now confused and annoyed. As he turned his head he understood- but he didn't like what he saw.

That "Strange lookin' Nudist" he'd gotten 20 from was seen about 30 feet into the air in one of the most slipshod, ramshackle and worn-out pieces of metal cobbled together ever seen. So slipshod was it that leaving a pretty curly, smoky trail as it wearily ascended up.

"Huh. Ain't that a surprise. I didn't even know anybody dumped a Ford Yackel escape pod B-9 down here. Those jump heaps couldn't fly a thing Thirt-TEEN miles to the nearest anti-matter fuelling station! Am I rite, or am I rite? Right?"

Once Akbar turned around the policemen had already went to alert and frantically scurried out of the area in a big hurry.

"They all left me... oh well. I really could go for a burger right about now. Mmm. Maybe one with Pickles!"

- Meanwhile...

Okay, thought Wile. I'm cramped.

The only comfort from that thought he felt was knowing that he managed to get away from that huge city, the blazing lights, the glaring faces, and idiots. That and he accidentally scratched his head against the rusty ceiling that enclosed the screaming metal death trap he was mounting. In all the chaos, it flew over his head how specifically he managed to make the obviously out-of-date machinery work.

On the other hand, aside from being bombarded with so many scary things in a world he didn't recoginze, even the issue of his own insatiable hunger (The pickles just weren't doing it), he felt sort of... alive.

Blood dripped down his face; but it wasn't serious. He sure did feel dizzy though! Though that heavily depended... again, he had to reaffirm that he'd jumped 3 centuries into the future, if those discarded newspapers he found sitting inside were correct. And he had absolutely no idea how that happened.

It wasn't so incredibly shrunken space inside there. It was all cylinder. Gone red and sticky rotted from what he could guess was iron oxide, his aching, rough body found it hard to sit. But he didn't really have a choice.

There was a pair of rusted sticks sticking out on the sides, what he felt the first time he plopped right in. He was in a hurry to just get away, but just from where did he leave? And where was he going? When he thought like that, it all sounded like a bad sci fi in his head- and he might have been right. He was probably in one.

The sticks were for steering he discovered. Without knowing why, he grabbed them. TOO bad he had NO way of seeing, let alone, knowing where he was going.

Then right in front of his big nose sprang a large floating light. Wile panicked and threatened to jump out, forgetting for minute that whereever he was headed, he was probably now past the Earth's atmosphere-

Hmm? Button?

And there was something else. There was a small "Line" above with a hatch door. He opened it and both eyes bulged out in shock. No question. He was definitely in the air, and bove the huge city, and the rickety rustbucket was still doing its job. The only problem was he could several flying spaceships quickly homing in towards his pod...

I NEED A MIRACLE!

Now he was beginning to get frantic. He started pressing multiple buttons, his hands flying all over and the bleeding on the side of his head growing dry. Strange, even in this insanity, his hairy fingers started flying at all the loose, bent wires and reconnecting them to a 3 inch ring adapter just to the side of the cramped space... but that didn't make him panic. If anything, something like that seemed to happen, because he was under the fear of being pursued. Add to the pain of sitting on top of a bunch junk and garbage some idiot had put down in the metal pod, he was upset and shaking because everything was so terrible and he just wanted things to go normally- and he didn't even remember what that was like, other than knowing his own name. The pod was beginning to get unbearably hot; finally, one of the buttons he pressed started flashing Red on and off...

His head was BURNING. His eyes started to spin.

SPIN.

meanwhile...

"This is Star Johnson of the Ulterior, ready to capture the... WHAT THE!"

All the ships under Johnson could see just as well. The subject they were trying to track down's pod suddenly increased in thrust, despite its' clumsy exit into the outer layers of the Earth's atmosphere.

One of the men at the consoles was reading the energy levels of the thrusters. "Reaching 3.2... 3.5... 3.9... 4.0!"

"4.0!" Johnson burst out screaming. "That CAN'T be right! Most engine thrusters this day and age can only charge a magmum energy level of 3.8. And that's the Protectorate's strongest weapons in tow!" Is this what you meant, I.Q., when you said that the Coyotes had some Crazy Mumbo Jumbo High Tier Engineering Talent... ! Johnson thought with a shudder... then the next thought made him feel cold.

If he's the one who's doing that... If he can... is it really SAFE to actually bring him back alive?

"Fire at the pod!" Johnson ordered.

One member turned around and said, "But Captain! Didn't the Professor give explicit orders to retrieve this guy we're after ali-!"

"I'M the commanding OFFICER here!" Johnson's terrible tone roared over the cowering suboardinates. "DO as I SAY! It's not like we're playing Second Banana to some Idiot any time in the Foreseeable Future! Shoot at the pod BEFOREit has any time to ES-!"

Unfortunately, he didn't finish. On the big screen monitor at the head of the ship, The entire crew and Johnson could see what had just happened. The energy meter had, and was still going up in front of one of the crew members. The Bar kept going up from yellow to red, to a seriously deep red.

The rusty metal pod getting further and further away from them, shot out like a Pinball machine bumper, left behind a devastating beam of incredible light in its wake. The huge burst of energy caused the pod gain a terrible level of amazing speed. In seconds, the pod jumped lightyears ahead of the Ulterior, then vanished into a blip at the horizon. There was no way they were going to catch up to it now.

All ships under Johnson ceased any further pursuit, everyone now having clearly seen the events firsthand.

Johnson kept staring at the screen until his eyes would've fell out. He thought for a second he might not have been alive because he wasn't breathing. But after a second he did breathe, and noticed he was drenched in sweat.

"Captain...?" said one of the subordinates.

"Hmm?"

"Should we attempt to pursue the spacecraft?"

Instead of giving him a straight answer, Johnson took in a deep breath, and picked up a Microphone, which would allow him to speak to all ships. "This is Captain Star Johnson speaking... I would like all ships to retreat immediately. As it stands, we cannot afford to overstep our authority and invade the space of Martian territory, lest we cause war between the two planets. Fall back to the Protectorate HQ. That is all," he said, putting the microphone away. The next thing he did was stand up and walk over to the monitor and stare listlessly at the monitor for a few minutes.

Try as he might he couldn't grasp the magnitude of what unknown danger was now somewhere, lightyears beyond their reach, wildly speeding into the unseen chaos of the universe.

"Sir? Didn't you just say before that we had to shoot the craft? Won't I.Q. be upset about that, let alone the fact that the subject in question has completely escaped both our sights, bio-sensors and tracking radars?"

"Frank," said Johnson, now giving his subordinate a stern-eyed gaze, "Consider your Christmas bonus unmade."

Meanwhile-

Valeria Galaxy - 34892 parsecs later

The power of lightspeed: this in fact was the level of speed that superceded light. while neither air, nor light can travel in space, that didn't help to explain why Wile felt like a pressed iron as the ship charged into hyperdrive.

The Pod, despite whatever you think, had reached a destination safely, an uncharted, unmapped barren planet that seemed to be be surrounded by a very stable atmosphere... which made for a perfect 3-point landing upon entry.

The Pod crashed, and it was heavy landing. It bounced repeatedly, denting the feeble-looking transport like a wave against a rock. A little more of it was starting to give and wear out, till even the engine, beyond repair, suddenly broke off the bottom end of the ship. Lots of metal debris was flying all over the entire landscape, and the glass plating around where Wile had a less-than-scenic view of the action shattered. shards flew outward instead of in, and his head banged against the ceiling and... pretty much all the inside.

The ship finally made one final crash on the rough sand.

CRASH!

Wile's thoughts felt like a cabinet of smashed glass; he thought it couldn't get any worse after seeing how his head was a literal volcano. There was small drops of red liquid in the tank, but even all of that was smashed up against his face.

Intentory. I'm bleeding from my head, my body feels like 5 miles of bad road, and the ship has crashed. I seem to be in a lot of pain, and I feel like the inside of a can of sardines.

And the worst part of it is... I've run out of pickles.

And then it got worse: he remembered that whatever lay in his past, he knew that he hated pickles.

Later On

Struggling against the pain of the wreckage and the dried blood on his head, Wile pulled free from it. There were plenty of advantages to being abominably skinny, he noted.

The ship was destroyed- even worse than the pitiful wreck he saw in Akbar's junkyard. All the parts were missing, and it was a smoking pile of junk. Wile felt a strong urge to get away from it, and obeyed his instincts. They had been correct, he realized, because once he was 5 feet away what remained of the miserable ship/pod burst into flames. The wildfire started to smoke away what little was left; the ship groaned like it was a living thing that was dying. The explosion sent more things flying.

I guess there's no more point in using that, he thought to himself. Then he fell over because he could only manage the strength to wrestle free of the wreckage that would've killed him if it'd exploded sooner.

I don't understand. I remember my name. I remember that I hate pickles... but it was the only thing I could steal at the moment... the voice in his head died then sprang back to life, beset with hopelessness. I feel terrible. I'm in so much PAIN. Worse, I'm far off from anyone I know, let alone anyone I could be familiar with. And I'm trapped in the future... go figure.

Just thinking that made it all more hopeless; if he had the strength, he would've curled up into a ball. But for some foolish reason he kept holding onto his dignity. Wile turned over on his back and felt the full force of the scorching sun, and finally acknowledged how hot it was. And yeesh, there was no question about it.

Where... am I... anyway? The sun kept beating down on his head and it made it harder to think.

Wile turned his head to side and saw desert and mountains. His optimism briefly sprang up to life. He turned his head to the other side and saw nothing else but deserts, and several trees... but he could have been hallucinating.

Is this what another planet looks like? I get 20 dollars and that gets me a spacecraft, one I would never have jumped into in my entire LIFE, and then I wind up leaving Earth's atmosphere, which, until Kennedy came along, should have been impossible- I guess that's plausible... I... I'm on another planet. I'm on... another planet, he thought over and over.

Suddenly Wile forgot about the dried blood on his head, and the excruiating pain; strange, but he felt more like he was recovering quickly. He finally stood up. He looked around and tuned his ears to detect anything resembling a sound- but he didn't hear anything... other than the scorching wind that blew past.

3 centuries and humanity moves into the space age- but he didn't fully grasp whatever norm or popular thing they were all following, because he'd been too busy to escape. Truth was, he had no idea where he was going, and now he had no idea if wherever he was going was where he wanted to go. And now it looked like he was stuck, with no way of going back. A very unwise decision that put him in unavoidable circumstances.

His heart sank.

Stuck on another planet, baren, like an entire desert as he'd seen from the window, said pod blown up and completely destroyed.

In another galaxy...

And he was alone.