THE AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, MIND-BOGGLING ADVENTURES OF TABLE-HEADED SERVICE DRONE BOB!
Part Two: Debris
There was nothing but black. It was at this moment that the Irken knew that he was dead. There was no other explanation, he was falling into a sun and the only escape pod had been jettisoned, and it's very hard to find an alternative when you're unconscious. But it was at this point that doubts entered into his mind. If he was dead, why was he still capable of rational thought? And why does he have some conception of the passing of time, when that shouldn't really exist when you're brain-dead? If everything is black, and he wasn't dead, then there must be something stopping him from seeing things.
Wake up, you idiot.
The Irken awoke. His vision was hazy at first, but he didn't honestly care. He was alive, and since this had to be more than 10 minutes since last he had consciousness, that meant the danger had passed and he was safe. As his vision came back to him, he made a mental note to think beyond the short term.
"What d'you know. A service drone!" exclaimed the apparation in front of him, his vision was still blurred but what he could make out did not fill him with confidence. If he was right, the figure in front of him was a salvager, a space traveller whose sole reason of existence was to feed off the misfortune of others. Salvagers were normally stout and well-muscled, since salvaging involved a lot of heavy lifting, and since most tasks in the Irken Empire were normally the reserve of machines and service drones like himself, this tended to make them stick out in a crowd.
"Mommy...I don't feel like going to school today...I feel all deep-fried..." said the Irken, as the previous thought had yet to spread itself to every section of his brain.
"Ha ha! Take a look at this Blik! Lil' scrub here's a momma's boy!" said the salvager without much subtlety.
"We can't sell him on delirious, Flik!" reasoned Blik, a slimmer, taller Irken and transparently the brains behind the operation, "fix it!"
"All-right!" grumbled Flik, slapping the tiny Irken violently across the face, "WAKE UP YOU LAZY ASSHOLE!"
"No need to shout..." the smaller Irken whimpered, now regaining full consciousness, "now, what happened to me? I thought I was burned to a crisp..."
"Your ship bounced off the surface of Draconis B, but it suffered severe damage in the process. It fell to pieces right after we got you off it," Blik explained, "how a service drone found it's way onto an Irken battleship is anyone's guess, but that is one hefty piece of equipment that will probably make our fortunes, and I'd like to know how you got on it. What's your name?"
"Bob," said, well, Bob, "how I got on that ship is a long story but it features loan sharks, or the fact that I don't have any. I was strapped into a battleship and sent hurtling into the sun."
"In a Draedalus-class Battlecruiser?" Blik reasoned, "there are very few people in the universe with the power and influence to dispose of their enemies in a first-rate piece of military hardware. That means you must mean something to somebody high up."
"Uhhh..." Bob stammered. He didn't want to reveal that he knew the Tallest, even if he only served drinks for them. Being the enemy of the rulers of a thousand-light-year-wide empire does not immediately suggest 'please help me'. He needed something convincing and he needed it quickly. "The people were the orionese mafia! They were going to send me to a cheaper ship around the sun but they...forgot...or something." Good job.
"Only the Tallest have the resources to get that ship. That means you're wanted. You're damaged goods," said Blik, ominously, "if we can't sell you as you are, then we're gonna have to find some other means to get some cash from you."
"WE'RE GONNA CUT YER'UP REAL GOOD!" shouted Flik, unable to contain his excitement.
"WHAT!" yelled Bob, definitely not happy.
"Oh, yeah, before your gruesome horrible death, do you take an iron-rich diet?" asked Blik, "'cos that raises the asking price for digestive systems yer'see..."
Flik was starting up a surgical buzzsaw, as Bob was paralyzed in complete and utter fear...
TO BE CONTINUED...
Part Two: Debris
There was nothing but black. It was at this moment that the Irken knew that he was dead. There was no other explanation, he was falling into a sun and the only escape pod had been jettisoned, and it's very hard to find an alternative when you're unconscious. But it was at this point that doubts entered into his mind. If he was dead, why was he still capable of rational thought? And why does he have some conception of the passing of time, when that shouldn't really exist when you're brain-dead? If everything is black, and he wasn't dead, then there must be something stopping him from seeing things.
Wake up, you idiot.
The Irken awoke. His vision was hazy at first, but he didn't honestly care. He was alive, and since this had to be more than 10 minutes since last he had consciousness, that meant the danger had passed and he was safe. As his vision came back to him, he made a mental note to think beyond the short term.
"What d'you know. A service drone!" exclaimed the apparation in front of him, his vision was still blurred but what he could make out did not fill him with confidence. If he was right, the figure in front of him was a salvager, a space traveller whose sole reason of existence was to feed off the misfortune of others. Salvagers were normally stout and well-muscled, since salvaging involved a lot of heavy lifting, and since most tasks in the Irken Empire were normally the reserve of machines and service drones like himself, this tended to make them stick out in a crowd.
"Mommy...I don't feel like going to school today...I feel all deep-fried..." said the Irken, as the previous thought had yet to spread itself to every section of his brain.
"Ha ha! Take a look at this Blik! Lil' scrub here's a momma's boy!" said the salvager without much subtlety.
"We can't sell him on delirious, Flik!" reasoned Blik, a slimmer, taller Irken and transparently the brains behind the operation, "fix it!"
"All-right!" grumbled Flik, slapping the tiny Irken violently across the face, "WAKE UP YOU LAZY ASSHOLE!"
"No need to shout..." the smaller Irken whimpered, now regaining full consciousness, "now, what happened to me? I thought I was burned to a crisp..."
"Your ship bounced off the surface of Draconis B, but it suffered severe damage in the process. It fell to pieces right after we got you off it," Blik explained, "how a service drone found it's way onto an Irken battleship is anyone's guess, but that is one hefty piece of equipment that will probably make our fortunes, and I'd like to know how you got on it. What's your name?"
"Bob," said, well, Bob, "how I got on that ship is a long story but it features loan sharks, or the fact that I don't have any. I was strapped into a battleship and sent hurtling into the sun."
"In a Draedalus-class Battlecruiser?" Blik reasoned, "there are very few people in the universe with the power and influence to dispose of their enemies in a first-rate piece of military hardware. That means you must mean something to somebody high up."
"Uhhh..." Bob stammered. He didn't want to reveal that he knew the Tallest, even if he only served drinks for them. Being the enemy of the rulers of a thousand-light-year-wide empire does not immediately suggest 'please help me'. He needed something convincing and he needed it quickly. "The people were the orionese mafia! They were going to send me to a cheaper ship around the sun but they...forgot...or something." Good job.
"Only the Tallest have the resources to get that ship. That means you're wanted. You're damaged goods," said Blik, ominously, "if we can't sell you as you are, then we're gonna have to find some other means to get some cash from you."
"WE'RE GONNA CUT YER'UP REAL GOOD!" shouted Flik, unable to contain his excitement.
"WHAT!" yelled Bob, definitely not happy.
"Oh, yeah, before your gruesome horrible death, do you take an iron-rich diet?" asked Blik, "'cos that raises the asking price for digestive systems yer'see..."
Flik was starting up a surgical buzzsaw, as Bob was paralyzed in complete and utter fear...
TO BE CONTINUED...