The ride to Shuttle Pointe was quick and filled with smiles. Sylvia didn't have much to say for herself, her breath spent on carrying Wander and their supplies. But the star nomad himself was a constant source of joyful enthusiasm. That didn't stop as they arrived at their destination.
"Well, would you look at that?"
Wander was, to put it mildly, easily excited, but even Sylvia had to admit that this was one impressive town. The architecture wasn't especially amazing: it was mainly the kind of soot-stained, down-at-heel, falling-apart places you find in any town where people are generally passing through. But the people! Every species they'd encountered, and several more they hadn't, walked the streets with purpose.
Wander didn't know where to look. Vast, purple slimers bartered over spare parts with six tiny winged beasts standing on each others' heads. Two Bingleborps sang a mournful duet for spare change. An ornery bartender with a banana for a body tossed a Fist Fighter through a saloon door. The noise, the crowds. It would be overwhelming to most – but not to Wander.
Sylvia knew that such scenes were like catnip to the star nomad. So many people, so many stories, so many souls to help. She admired him for that. It was what had brought them together in the first place, in fact, although since then she'd done more than enough helping to pay back any perceived debt – not that he'd ever call it in in the first place. No, they stuck together because they were kindred spirits.
That's not to say, of course, that they agreed on everything.
"Alright, Wander," said Sylvia with purpose. "There's a market at the end of the street, so we'll get essentials there, then head to the ship depot, so, if you'll just climb back on… Wander? Wander?"
She sighed, inhaled, then bellowed again: "WAAAANDEEEEEEER!"
Even on a street as hectic and noise-filled as this one, the sound of a zbornak emptying her lungs was enough to draw attention. Attention, at least, from a bunch of strangers, none of whom was Wander.
Here we go again, she thought, as she trudged through the crowds to see where he'd gotten off to this time.
"That was beeee-eautiful, fellas!" said Wander, clapping and then tossing a single, glowing crystal into the Bingleborps' hat. "Could you do me another one? Maybe somethin' a little upbeat?"
"Uh… we mostly sing about battles… or the time our planet was invaded by Lord Hater… things like that," said the slightly smaller of the two.
"Aw, come on now. There must be somethin' that lights your little fires? Here: I'll get you started." Wander whipped off his hat and in one smooth motion pulled out his banjo and began to play a little solo. The other binglebop clapped uncertainly, exchanging sideways glances with his partner. Just who is the busker here, anyway?
Unperturbed, Wander started to sing.
"Weeeeeeeeelllllll… I met a pair of bingleborps who didn't seem to smile,
I thought I'd try to cheer 'em up for just a little while
I think I got a tale to tell that they'll remember later
'bout a skeleton with a big red cape and a badge that says Lord Hater!"
A small crowd gathered; Wander modulated up a key.
"His ship's a giant skull, the only kind you'll find in space,
He always has an angry scowl upon his skully face
And if that ain't enough to help you Hater recognize
His Watchdog army surely will: those little guys are eyes!"
He played a brief solo as the bingleborps clapped along:
"Now, just remember, Hatey really isn't all that bad
Coz deep inside he's insecure, he's lonely and he's sad
One day I want to put a big ol' smile upon that lip
But now I gotta go because…"
Sylvia stormed through the crowd and yelled at Wander:
"WE'RE GOING TO MISS OUR SHIP!"
"Thank you, thank you!" said Wander, as Sylvia dragged him away by one hand from the applauding crowd. She adopted a running position and placed him firmly on her back.
"Aw, you're no fun, Syl," he laughed.
"I have to hand it to you, Wander," she said, speeding towards the general store at the end of the street, "that was a catchy tune you had there. But we need to stay focused. Let's get the supplies and get out of here. I get the feeling Shuttle Pointe isn't the safest place in the galaxy."
Sylvia burst through the door, the little bell jingling to signal her entrance, to be faced with a glorious array of food, drinks, spare parts, fuel, and anything else a traveller could possible need for an ardous journey. A few well-dressed beings of all shapes and sizes wandered the aisles, but overall the store was remarkable quiet, given the breadth of products on offer.
"Let's just find some of the cheap food and get out of here," said Sylvia. "If we don't get to the depot before nightfall we're going to be stuck here until the suns rise."
Wander set to work, gathering the ingredients he needed to keep them fed on the road. When armed with spices, dried meats, and preserved fruits, the things they scavenged and bartered for along the way more often than not turned into cheap, delicious creations. Sylvia joined him at the counter with some medkits and waited to pay.
Behind the register stood a tiny, mustached clerk, wearing a striped shirt, an apron, and an expression of furrowed-brow concern. Slowly he rung up each item until the final total appeared.
"That'll… that'll be 6,523 crystals, sir and ma'am."
Wander pulled out his wallet, tongue stuck out the side of his mouth, and started to count out his currency. "One, two, three hundred… I got three hundred. Syl, can you make up the rest? Syl? Syl?"
To his left stood Sylvia, her jaw practically on the floor in shock. Six thousand crystals for this?Anywhere else they'd been, this would top out at a thousand, max. Soon her expression of shock turned to one of anger. She leaned across the counter and growled at the clerk.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but we're not the kind of rubes you can rip off, pardner," she snarled into the clerk's sweating face.
"That's right!" chimed in Wander. "We're the kind of rubes who… uh… wait, Syl. What are you talking about?"
"I'm saying, Wander, that this guy thinks he can get away with extortion! There's no way we're paying that amount!"
"L-listen…" replied the clerk. The sweat was spreading to his shirt now; Sylvia backed off a little, and saw on his chest a gleaming nametag saying 'Lemmy is ~at your service~' in copperplate font. He glanced from side to side to make sure nobody else was listening. "I don't set the prices here. None of us do. It's… someone else. They charge us 80% of what we make for protection money, so we have to do what they say."
"Protection money?" asked Sylvia. "Protection from what? Ain't there a sheriff around here?"
Lemmy gulped and leaned back in towards Sylvia and Wander. "It's the sheriff who sets the prices. Look around you, stranger! Why do you think the store's so empty? Why are the streets so full? It's because nobody can afford to buy anything. And if they're stuck here…"
"... then the sheriff has control over them…"
Lemmy nodded, then glanced behind Sylvia and cleared his throat. "Yes, madam – I assure you all our wares are most competitively priced." Sylvia turned around to see two well-dressed, green-skinned beings in suits strolling past, looking sceptically at the counter. As the door jingled closed, Lemmy continued.
"Those are his goons," he said. "Look, normally we don't tell strangers what's going on, but you two look trustworthy. So… can you he-"
"For sure we can help you out!" bellowed Wander. Lemmy and Sylvia cringed, but thankfully nobody else was around to hear their plan. "Why, that's just our favourite thing in the world to do. Ain't that right, Sylvia?"
"It sure is, buddy," she said. "But more importantly, if we don't get this mess cleaned up, we're going to be stuck on this planet."
"Aw, I'm not worried about that, Syl. I'm just glad to help out!"
"Good, good," said Lemmy. "Alright, listen. You saw those two aliens. Around four-foot-five, dressed in tuxedos, big eyes, green skin, mohawks. Right? The sheriff looks just like that, only he'll have a tin star on his jacket. So… that's your starting point. Maybe talk to some of the other storekeepers, too. And you'll want a room at the inn. I'll let Dolly know you're coming."
Sylvia nodded. "Come on, Wander. I guess we're sleeping indoors tonight."
"Oh, boy!" he said, bouncing onto her back. "I hope they have room service!"
That sounded appealing to Sylvia, too. But so did getting out of Shuttle Pointe. And that wasn't going to happen without some hard work. And a little bit of helping out, too.
