THE AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, MIND-BOGGLING ADVENTURES OF TABLE-HEADED SERVICE DRONE BOB!
Part Four: Who put this desert here?
Sirius Minor is a desert planet. Well that's not STRICTLY true, as there are CO2-saturated wastes and cold collections of dust much more deserving of the name 'desert planet' than Sirius Minor is. And then not all of Sirius Minor is a desert, in fact it covers less than half the planet. But if you ask any self-respecting space traveller what kind of planet Sirius Minor is, chances are they're going to say 'desert planet'. There's just so MUCH of it.
Service Drone Bob was not what you'd call a self-respecting space traveller, but he'd have to agree with them. Although at the moment he couldn't really tell either way, as he was staggering blindly, recovering from the impact of the massive hulk of metal gently bubbling beside him. He was lucky he survived at all, as much of the scrap that had travelled with him had fused together into a gelatinous goop. Though if you told him that, he might politely request that you keep it down, as he was feeling a bit concussed at the moment.
He felt exhausted from the landing, but he got over it just long enough to become exhausted from the heat. Squinting his eyes under the shade of his hand, he tried to get his bearings. He saw a settlement some miles from the crash site while he was landing, but since he had his eyes screwed shut in terror he couldn't really make out what direction it was in. Taking his best guess, he strode forth into the endless dunes.
The heat got to him almost immediately. Irk was a cold planet by galactic standards (it wasn't an ice world or anything, but it was still a good few notches below 'temperate') and it's indigineous races had evolved in accordance to the fact that the surrounding environment was pretty chilly. Bob was particularly susceptible to this, since he had spent his entire life on Irk or the Massive, serving drinks and snack foods to his social betters. He hated his life with every ounce of spite in his body, but that didn't escape the fact that a life anywhere else wouldn't be especially easy for someone as attuned to only one type of climate as him.
He walked for miles, never seeming to get anywhere and desperate for SOME sort of hydration to keep away the blistering heat. His thoughts turned towards decapitating the Tallest and a good segment of the ruling hierarchy, and eventually to killing himself. Since he realised these thoughts weren't very productive, he tried turning towards good memories. He had to admit there weren't many. If your entire life was doomed to fast food preparation, you'd probably feel the same way. But in a lifetime of pain, sorrow, and soda pop, there was one sole light of gratification to in there. There was Lenn.
Lenn was a fellow Service Drone, who worked with him in Irk's premier fried-gruumlak establishment, KFG Irk. The building itself was in that haze that appears in your memory signposted 'best left forgotten', but he could remember every detail of her. The skin, paler green than usual, dark purple oval eyes with eyelashes stretching out at provocative lengths, and antennae full of exciting, angular curls. Their first meeting was bumping into each other on the mopping floor, they apologized, they smiled, they laughed, they both got pay suspension for enjoyment of subjects other than corporate logos, they were an item.
That's good Bob, quit while you're ahead.
Lenn and him spent as much time as they could together. Whenever there was some threat of being split up, he broke into the computer system and made sure they were assigned to the same place. It was risky, but that's love for you. They had their own activities, their own songs, their own meeting places, and the excitement of the risk involved if they were found only served to keep their love from falling into any kind of routine. They may have wished for a better life free of servitude, but secretly they KNEW, deep down, that they never wanted this to end.
Beautiful. But I'm serious, Bob, you need to stop thinking.
They were transferred to the Massive, one of Bob's electronic conjuring tricks. They imagined they would enjoy travelling through the stars, even if they could only peer at them from under a dish tray. For a while, it was perhaps the best time of their lives, they were no longer in love under the noses of some faceless shift manager, but the TALLEST themselves! The very top of the Irken social structure having their rules broken right below them from the very bottom.
All-right! But Bob you have to stop!
Lenn started to get distracted, but he thought it was all down to work pressures. And then...
BOB!
And then...
Bob stopped abruptly and clutched his head in severe, searing pain. It was like nothing he had ever felt, but it still felt strangely familiar. He fell to his knees, face contorted in pain.
AND THEN...!
Idiot.
...and...
Never listens.
Bob fell unconscious to the ground. Whether it was psychological trauma or a severe heatwave was irrelevant to the towering figure now casting a shadow over him...
TO BE CONTINUED...
Part Four: Who put this desert here?
Sirius Minor is a desert planet. Well that's not STRICTLY true, as there are CO2-saturated wastes and cold collections of dust much more deserving of the name 'desert planet' than Sirius Minor is. And then not all of Sirius Minor is a desert, in fact it covers less than half the planet. But if you ask any self-respecting space traveller what kind of planet Sirius Minor is, chances are they're going to say 'desert planet'. There's just so MUCH of it.
Service Drone Bob was not what you'd call a self-respecting space traveller, but he'd have to agree with them. Although at the moment he couldn't really tell either way, as he was staggering blindly, recovering from the impact of the massive hulk of metal gently bubbling beside him. He was lucky he survived at all, as much of the scrap that had travelled with him had fused together into a gelatinous goop. Though if you told him that, he might politely request that you keep it down, as he was feeling a bit concussed at the moment.
He felt exhausted from the landing, but he got over it just long enough to become exhausted from the heat. Squinting his eyes under the shade of his hand, he tried to get his bearings. He saw a settlement some miles from the crash site while he was landing, but since he had his eyes screwed shut in terror he couldn't really make out what direction it was in. Taking his best guess, he strode forth into the endless dunes.
The heat got to him almost immediately. Irk was a cold planet by galactic standards (it wasn't an ice world or anything, but it was still a good few notches below 'temperate') and it's indigineous races had evolved in accordance to the fact that the surrounding environment was pretty chilly. Bob was particularly susceptible to this, since he had spent his entire life on Irk or the Massive, serving drinks and snack foods to his social betters. He hated his life with every ounce of spite in his body, but that didn't escape the fact that a life anywhere else wouldn't be especially easy for someone as attuned to only one type of climate as him.
He walked for miles, never seeming to get anywhere and desperate for SOME sort of hydration to keep away the blistering heat. His thoughts turned towards decapitating the Tallest and a good segment of the ruling hierarchy, and eventually to killing himself. Since he realised these thoughts weren't very productive, he tried turning towards good memories. He had to admit there weren't many. If your entire life was doomed to fast food preparation, you'd probably feel the same way. But in a lifetime of pain, sorrow, and soda pop, there was one sole light of gratification to in there. There was Lenn.
Lenn was a fellow Service Drone, who worked with him in Irk's premier fried-gruumlak establishment, KFG Irk. The building itself was in that haze that appears in your memory signposted 'best left forgotten', but he could remember every detail of her. The skin, paler green than usual, dark purple oval eyes with eyelashes stretching out at provocative lengths, and antennae full of exciting, angular curls. Their first meeting was bumping into each other on the mopping floor, they apologized, they smiled, they laughed, they both got pay suspension for enjoyment of subjects other than corporate logos, they were an item.
That's good Bob, quit while you're ahead.
Lenn and him spent as much time as they could together. Whenever there was some threat of being split up, he broke into the computer system and made sure they were assigned to the same place. It was risky, but that's love for you. They had their own activities, their own songs, their own meeting places, and the excitement of the risk involved if they were found only served to keep their love from falling into any kind of routine. They may have wished for a better life free of servitude, but secretly they KNEW, deep down, that they never wanted this to end.
Beautiful. But I'm serious, Bob, you need to stop thinking.
They were transferred to the Massive, one of Bob's electronic conjuring tricks. They imagined they would enjoy travelling through the stars, even if they could only peer at them from under a dish tray. For a while, it was perhaps the best time of their lives, they were no longer in love under the noses of some faceless shift manager, but the TALLEST themselves! The very top of the Irken social structure having their rules broken right below them from the very bottom.
All-right! But Bob you have to stop!
Lenn started to get distracted, but he thought it was all down to work pressures. And then...
BOB!
And then...
Bob stopped abruptly and clutched his head in severe, searing pain. It was like nothing he had ever felt, but it still felt strangely familiar. He fell to his knees, face contorted in pain.
AND THEN...!
Idiot.
...and...
Never listens.
Bob fell unconscious to the ground. Whether it was psychological trauma or a severe heatwave was irrelevant to the towering figure now casting a shadow over him...
TO BE CONTINUED...