The Sub-ether radio jingled its way merrily into the news.
"Hey, Hi there and how are you, welcome to the around-the-clock, around the galaxy, Sub-Ether News Frequency. Remember, other frequencies may be more accurate, but no one else scares you shitless with such relentless passion!"
A choir and a forty-two piece orchestra played their way through the theme.
"I'm Trink Hogletter, and here is the latest news update. Our headline today is, of course, the frankly ludicrous theft of the new Leap of Faith drive prototype ship, the Impala 67, by none other than Gabriel Angeles. The question on everyone's minds; has the Gabey Babey finally freaked? Angeles, ex-Confidence trickster, booze-hound, philanderer, Prime Minister of the Universe and reputed by the intergalactic Union of Working Girls as "the origin of the phrase 'Clever Dick'." Can he talk his way out of this one? Has he lost his senses? We speak to his brain-care specialist, Ash Bahdas. Ash?"
"Gabriel?" The voice of Doctor Ash Bahdas waved over the speakers. "He's just a dude who wants to party, right?"
Castiel turned off the Sub-Ether radio. He already had to listen to Gabriel in person; he didn't think he could take people talking about Gabriel as well. It was good to know Ash was still alive though, and presumably living off the very large cheques Gabriel's various neuroses got him. Castiel made a note to go see him some time. He could be holding.
Castiel sighed, and rolled over on his bunk, staring at the small cage on his cupboard unit.
"You know guys, something doesn't work out."
The inhabitants of the cage squeaked at him, and went back to rolling around in sawdust. Castiel sniffed.
"Yeah, that's easy for you to say."
He poked another piece of rehydrated fruit through the bars of the cage and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling he should wander back to the bridge and see how Gabriel the Fearless Captain was doing. Good to know that the guy who had set out to sample every mind-altering substance the universe had to offer was still more in control of the ship than the idiot that stole it.
Picking up the hitchhikers had presented more of a problem than he had initially thought; on deeper reflection, and some number-crunching, Castiel had realised that the odds of two people being picked up in space were big, but given the speed they were travelling at, it was nowhere near enough of a leap in faith to justify it. There was a large amount of blind hope unaccounted for.
As he got to the bridge, he found Gabriel lounging across the main console.
"Ok." Castiel smirked, throwing himself into the next chair. "I know why I'm out of it. Why are you?"
"Shh!" Gabriel hissed, flapping at him. "I'm trying to be nonchalant and cool. Just sit there and don't say anything."
"Yes, Captain." Castiel saluted, turning to the ship's controls. The bridge door slid open behind him.
"Balthazar." Gabriel sighed, with effortful laziness. "Hi."
"Gabriel." Balthazar breezed back, not to be outdone. "Nice ship you've stolen."
"Well. It gets me from A to B." Gabriel sniffed, disinterested. "Balthazar, you remember my little semi-cousin, Castiel."
"Of course he remembers me, Gabriel, I'm his brother. Balthazar, what were you doing out there?"
"Dæmons." Balthazar shrugged, waving sheepishly at his brother. "Rhaptoor Task Force. Nothing an intrepid reporter like me couldn't handle."
Castiel nodded, and pulled his brother into a brief hug. This would cover a lot of the missing blind faith, Castiel supposed, but it wasn't quite enough… Bitchbot 2.0 was still slumped in the doorway.
"Sam, what's the matter now?"
"Nothing, just finding out my home planet's been destroyed, that's all." Sam sighed. "I'm always the last to know these things. But don't mind the humans over here; I'll just rust quietly in the corner, shall I?"
Sam skulked off, under a weary glare from Gabriel, revealing a rather terrified young man in the doorway, just as Castiel was about to ask what Sam meant by "Humans". As the human spotted Castiel, Castiel blinked. Ah. That made up for the rest of the missing numbers.
"You!" Dean gaped, pointing at him. Castiel smiled, recognising him.
"Dean! Good to see you made it off Earth."
"But… you…"
Balthazar raised his hand.
"Sorry, sorry. Dean, this is Castiel, my brother, and Gabriel, my semi-cousin. We…"
"I know."
"I… what?"
"We've met. They fleeced me out of a three month yoga membership, and then they gave me food poisoning."
"That was more his idea than mine." Castiel carried on smiling, jerking his thumb at Gabriel. "Sorry all the same."
Balthazar looked around for a moment, stunned.
"You mean you've been on that miserable little marble? I've been stuck there for ten years, and you didn't even swing by to say hi?"
"We tried…" Gabriel protested. "But… you know, stuff got in the way, and then we had to make a hasty exit. You know what the cops are like."
"Unbelievable." Balthazar scowled, glaring at his relatives. "Unbelievable."
"Aww, I'm sorry, Balthazar." Castiel grinned at him. "Would it make it better if we let you drive for a bit?"
"Hey!" Gabriel stood. "I'm the captain; I'm the only one who gets to drive. Now… Castiel, is this going to happen every time we use Leap of Faith drive?"
"Most likely."
"Oh, joy. So we've got two ex-cons on the run, one recently un-exiled reporter and one… monkey."
"Hey!" Dean started, but Gabriel wasn't listening.
"Sam! I need a drink."
(-*-)
Way back in the ancient mists of time (somewhere after "In the beginning, there was nothing" and before "long long ago, in a galaxy far away"), in the days of the Pan-Galactic Empire, life was wild, free and on the whole rather more inspiring. In those days, men were real men and women were real women, as holographic cloning technology was primitive. The stakes were high, the taxes were low, and it was every crew for themselves in a bid to tame the untameable and make profit. Many people became quite rich, which was perfectly acceptable, as no one was really poor, just slightly less comfortable.
With such wealth, however, came a sense of entitlement and taste; the settlers found themselves unsatisfied with the planets they found. The temperature was wrong, the days were too long, or the sea was too far to the left. Out of this need grew an amazing new industry; custom made planets. The industry grew out of the desert planet Krippketha, where workers toiled to create special, customised dream worlds to the exacting standards of their patrons. The industry flourished.
Then, following an incident with universal banking systems, the economy collapsed, and Krippketha was unable to continue its' costly business. The desert planet was once again still, and tales of the fallen Empire fell into the realm of myth. These days, in our more enlightened times, no one believes it.
Speaking of which…
"Unbelievable." Balthazar shook his head as he leant against the control panel.
"You're using that word a lot lately." Gabriel glared at him. "Did being on Earth give you brain damage?"
"It's a myth!" Balthazar snapped, before turning to Dean. "Don't believe him, Krippketha does not exist. It's a con."
"Me? Con?" Gabriel tried for innocence, but no one was impressed. "Alright, so in the past I've been less than honest, but this is it, Balthazar. The big "it". I am full of awe and hope…"
"You're full of something, alright." Balthazar scowled, before imploring his brother. "Castiel. You can't honestly believe his fairy stories, can you?"
Castiel shrugged, giving him a happy smile.
"Hey, the state I'm in right now, I could be imagining all of you for all I know. Look, there's an easy way to solve it. Bobby!"
"Yeah, what?" The computer's voice circuits groaned into action.
"Could you please tell us which planet we are currently in orbit around?"
Bobby sighed.
"We are currently in orbit, at an altitude of three hundred miles, around the legendary planet of Krippketha. Lucky us…"
"Oh, that doesn't prove a thing." Balthazar scoffed, earning an angry growl from Bobby's processor.
"You saying I'm incorrect? Boy, I've been built to comprehend and track this ship as it passes through every point in the universe simultaneously. You think I can't name one lousy planet?"
"He has a point." Castiel smirked, before spinning around in his chair to look at Dean. "Are you alright? You're very quiet over there."
Dean had been content to let the conversation happen without him. He was still coping with the insanity of the last… what, half hour or so? He flashed a wan smile at Castiel.
"I'll be fine."
"Keep breathing, buddy, it'll make sense eventually."
Balthazar and Gabriel were still bickering about the identity of the planet below them, so Dean guessed it would be safe to ask.
"Cas?"
"Yeah?"
"You want to tell me what they're arguing about?"
"Oh." Castiel stood up, sidling over to lean against the wall next to Dean. "Well, the old legends are that Krippketha was, years and years ago, a planet that made other planets. I believe Earth had similar sort of myths… El Dorado and Atlanta?"
"Atlantis. Right. But those places aren't real."
"And neither, supposedly, is Krippketha. But Gabriel reckons he's found it."
"Ok… And we're going to land on it?"
"Yes."
"Even though we don't know what it is or what might be down there."
"Yes."
Dean thought for a moment.
"Why are you on a spaceship?"
"I am afraid I'm not as human as I may have led you to believe." Castiel smiled. "Gabriel and I went to Earth in the hopes of lying low when a con went wrong. I really did want to teach yoga though, honest. I'm sorry you never came back for another lesson."
Dean nodded, his brow creased.
"I have this crazy feeling, like I'm supposed to say something. I mean, all the stuff that's happened to me today, I really should say something, but have no idea what."
Castiel shrugged.
"I usually go with "goosnargh"."
"Look." Balthazar held his hands up, causing Castiel and Dean to return their attention to the main argument. "Even if it is…"
"It is."
"No it isn't, but if it is, then it would have been dead for centuries! What could you possibly want from it?"
"Fame." Gabriel grinned. "Adventure. Really wild things."
"But there's nothing there!" Balthazar was fast beginning to get exasperated. A triumphant return to the life of interstellar travel, this was not. "Even if the myths are true, there can't have been anyone there for millenia! It's just some dried up, desert planet, Gabriel."
"It's real. I know it is."
"Ooh, drama." Dean muttered, before turning to Sam. "Hey, robot."
Sam turned his mournful faceplates to the only other surviving human consciousness in the universe. The look was far too bleak and with far too much perspective for Dean to be sympathetic.
"Is there any coffee on this boat?"
"Gee, Dean, real tactful. 'Hey, us living organisms get to eat, remember that, cyborg?'" Sam rolled is LED eyes, before resuming his sulk. "The DinerMatic machine in the corridor will see to all your nutrient based needs."
"Then that is where I will be." He made his way to the corridor.
"You sure you don't want t see how this bitter feud plays out?" Castiel grinned. Dean sighed.
"You know, I don't think I can bear the suspense."
(-*-)
DinerMatic nutrition vendor machines are another bright idea from the minds of the Sirius Cybernetic Corporation. It uses complex electromagnetic pulses to measure and diagnose the nutrition levels of the customer, thus delivering not necessarily what the customer wants, but what they need. Dean knew nothing of this, nor did he care.
All he knew was that the machine refused to give him a mug of coffee and a slice of apple pie. What it was giving him was a headache, a poor introduction to the advanced robotic technologies the universe had to offer and, most importantly, a steaming cup of something which was very nearly entirely inedible.
"Listen to me, you hunk of crap. I asked you if you could make coffee, right?"
"Correct." The machine chirped.
"And I asked you if you could make pie, right?"
"Correct."
"And you said that you could. Right?"
"Correct."
"So what the hell is this?"
"Nutritional supplement, tailor-made to suit your own dietary requirements."
"Dude, my diet wouldn't require this if I was a suicidal bulimic. Look, I've had a very long, very trying day, and I just want some java and some comfort food."
"If you like our DinerMatic services, why not join our social network?"
"The only reason I would "follow" you would be to push you off the edge. Now come on! I want coffee and pie."
"Coffee and pie are not nutritionally sound…"
"I don't want to be nutritionally sound, I want pie."
The machine whirred for a moment.
"Pie is… not nutritionally sound…"
"I know." Dean growled, trying to remain calm. "Look, please. Just give me what I want, I can go my way, and we can never see each other again."
"Logical error." The DinerMatic whirred, sounding quite lost and confused. "Why does the human reject proper nutritional sustenance?"
"Comfort food!" Dean sighed. "Don't you know what comfort food is?"
The machine thought for a moment.
"Request unknown." It admitted. Dean, with a healthily detached sense of how utterly bizarre it was, sat down next to the DinerMatic and began to explain the human habit of eating foods heavy in saturated fats or sugars when upset or stressed. He explained the cultural significance placed on food and feeding from childbirth, and the archetypal symbolism placed behind apple pie, not to mention the ongoing push and pull between the American and English claims to ownership of the recipe, delving into the little culinary history he knew about pie.
After he'd finished, the DinerMatic whirred for a moment.
"I see."
"You do?"
"Humans require food which is not nutritionally sound, as combinations of fats and sugars not only trigger endorphin release, but also stir sense memory."
"Uh… yeah."
The machine whirred.
"It goes against my central programming. It will require some extra processing time."
"Ok."
"I'm not sure… Requesting information transfer from ship's central intelligence."
"Yeah." Bobby's voice crackled out of nearby speakers. "I heard. I gotta say, it's a tricky one."
"Well, you guys think on that." Dean sighed. He'd had enough; he would take his chances with the aliens. As he got onto the bridge, the flashing lights and klaxons suggested maybe he should go sit in a dark room with a towel over his eyes for a while.
"What's going on?"
"The ship triggered some ancient alarm system." Castiel shrugged, his hands flying over the controls. For a stoner, he seemed to have an amazing comprehension of the ship's technology.
"It's something left behind from the old days." Gabriel sneered. "We carry on."
"Picking up a recorded transmission from the planet." Castiel blinked up at Gabriel. "Play it?"
"Play it."
On the visi-screens, the recorded transmission manifested itself into an animation, with soft gradients and line shading, which dragged Dean's mind towards the animation of a young Terry Gilliam, and was about to say as much, when he realised that the few people who would have understood the reference would not have cared.
"Greetings." The animation played, showing images of a planet spinning, and a smartly dressed man stepping out from behind it. "We on the industry planet of Krippketha…"
"Ha!" Said Gabriel, and Balthazar grumbled. The recording continued.
"… would like to thank you for your interest in our services. However, I'm afraid we must inform you that the entire planet is regretfully closed for business. Take heart that when we reopen, announcements will be placed in the appropriate popular information services. Thank you, and safe journey." The man in the animation smiled, and hopped back behind the planet. Castiel looked at Gabriel, who seemed momentarily stunned.
"Wow." He turned wide, shocked eyes to Balthazar. "I… was right! There's totally something valuable down there!"
"What do we do?"
"Keep going."
"They seem pretty eager to get rid of us…"
"Keep going." Gabriel's eyes flashed menacingly. Castiel turned back to the controls.
After a while, a similar animation popped onto the visi-screen. This time, the animated man seemed a little less happy, and his tone was definitely cold.
"We would like to assure you that we are merely closed until the universe has a net worth high enough to afford our services, and as soon as it does we will be once more open for business. Until such a time, however, we request that you leave the premises. Thank you. Safe journey."
"They…" Dean cleared his throat, noticing the tension that had appeared in the room. "They really don't sound like they want us there. Maybe we should…"
"It's just a recording." Gabriel hissed. "Carry on."
Castiel and Balthazar exchanged looks, but didn't say anything. They carried on.
The animation popped up again. The cartoon world was not spinning merrily. The cartoon man looked very, very annoyed.
"Your unabated enthusiasm is both flattering and reassuring. For that reason, we would like to reassure you that the guided missiles currently locked on to your ship are a complimentary service. Thank you."
Everyone stared at Gabriel.
"So." Said Sam, to no one in particular. "We're all going to die. Isn't that just great?"