Chapter 2

"You can let go of my hand now."

"This isn't right..."

"Rick, seriously. Let go." Eleanore wrenched her hand out of his, wrapping her arms around herself. "Where are we? It's freezing."

"You shouldn't have w-worn pajamas," Rick replied, obviously more engrossed in his portal gun than Eleanore; he fiddled with the dials, examining the tiny screen. "Does that look like the Crab Nebula to you?" He pointed to the sky, keeping his eyes on the device.

"Is that a...trick question?" Eleanore blinked at the stars that freckled the sky. "These constellations are completely different from ours. I couldn't tell you—"

"Useless," muttered Rick. Eleanore made a face somewhere between amused and bemused. "Y-You should be able to see it with your naked—naked eye. That was the w-was the whole point." He smacked the gun with the heel of his hand and continued to mumble to himself.

While Rick fiddled with the portal gun, Eleanore kicked at the ground with her slipper. Shrubbery littered the earth, and in the few bare areas there was sand, shining silver in the twilight. Four moons shone across the flat terrain, revealing a smattering of flora. Aside from the sand, bushes largely covered the ground. Flowers poked through the dirt at intervals. The desert-like flora informed the chilly air; Eleanore knew desert nights could be far colder and deadlier, but this didn't keep her teeth from chattering.

"Here." Rick thrust his lab coat in her direction. Eleanore took it, grateful. She turned her attention skyward, studying the new constellations until she heard Rick's voice again. "Wolff, c'mon." He had started down a worn path as Eleanore's mind wandered. Without waiting for a response, Rick stalked further down the way.

"Rick! Would you wait? My legs are shorter than yours!"

"Just so we're clear, this isn't Earth," Rick informed Eleanore while they made their way through the alien terrain. "We're not back in California or Arizona or, God f-forbid, Utah."

"Hey, Utah's okay."

Rick only shrugged, continuing, "Point is, this isn't Earth, and while it's not within spitting distance of a beautiful supernova r-remnant, it's an adventure."

"Did I say it wasn't?" Eleanore was more than happy to explore.

The night breeze kicked up sand, and Eleanore hugged Rick's lab coat closer to her as the dust swirled around them. "So, not Earth," she said. "Yeah. What is this place?"

"Sterky…poo."

"You just made that up."

"N-No, it says so right there." Rick pointed to a wooden sign about fifty feet down the path. Even in the dim moonlight, Eleanore could see a collection of bizarre characters on it.

"That sign is complete gibberish," she countered, not even bothering to roll her eyes.

When they reached the signpost, Eleanore reached up to touch it; her fingers glided over the imprinted letters. "Obviously somebody made this. Crudely, but still."

"Obviously," Rick echoed. This time he dodged Eleanore's smack.

"Don't be shitty."

"Chill, Margaret Mead." Rick grabbed Eleanore by the shoulders and moved her from behind the sign. A few orange spots glowed in the near distance. Around the closest fire, there stood a few shanty-type shelters; a leather-type material covered each. The lean-tos were tattered and worn, but they seemed efficient in keeping the desert wind at bay. "Just ask them where we are instead of trying to p-pry secrets out of a wooden sign." Rick traipsed onwards in the direction of the closest encampment. Eleanore had to jog to keep up with his lengthy strides.

"Rick."

"Hm?"

"Rick, those are bugs." Eleanore stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a hunched figure stoking the nearest campfire. She grabbed Rick's sleeve and hissed, "Those are big-ass bugs."

"Wolff, you're a scientist. A-Are you telling me you're grossed out by anthropomorphic insects?"

"I'm an astrophysicist not an entomologist. You know I hate life sciences." It wasn't enough of a phobia to overcome her curiosity, but the shock of a 6-foot-tall, bipedal fly caused her to hesitate. "I just wasn't expecting...that."

"Show a little chutzpah, cadet."

Eleanore pursed her lips. "You first, shegetz."

"Uh, h-hey!" Rick shouted now they were in earshot. Eleanore watched as the fly's head shot up. It was the only organism awake in its encampment, and while it didn't seem aggressive, Eleanore remained wary. "Hey, man. What it is? We're, uh, tr-travelers. We're a little lost—wondering where we are. Any chance you could help?"

Before Eleanore could berate Rick for assuming the alien spoke English (or anything resembling an Earth language), the fly replied, "Oh, sure, dude. Yeah. You're, like, in the dead middle of the Theemly desert. Where are you trying to get to?"

Eleanore gawked at the alien, then turned to Rick to be sure she'd heard correctly. Rick was nonplussed. He didn't glance her way, but he replied to the fly, "Far out, man, but I w-was talking more on the, er, planetary-scale."

The fly blinked. If he had had a mouth rather than dangling flesh sacs, Eleanore was certain he would have frowned. "Like, what planet are you on?" Rick nodded, and the fly blinked once more before replying, "Gromflom Prime."

"Gromflom Prime! You—you hear that, Eleanore? This place is like an episode of Star Trek, a-a Dr. Seuss book! This is great. W-W-Well, nice to meet you, my man. I'm Rick, this is Eleanore. Wh-What have we got cooking here? Smells scrumdiddlyumptious." Without an invitation, Rick took a seat beside the gromflamite. He leaned close to inspect the fire and the spit on which meat and some sort of plant were roasting. Rick patted the ground on his other side, nodding for Eleanore to join them, but she didn't move; she simply gaped at his gumption.

"Uh, well, we've got some gromflamite meat there and then some kelp, I guess," the fly replied, pointing to the respective morsels on the spit. "But, I mean, I only made enough for me." When neither human responded, he continued, "I'm Gootary Larry. Nice to meet you guys. Kinda." Gootary Larry seemed confused but otherwise unassuming. Eleanore took a seat beside Rick, eyes trained on their new companion.

"Gootary Larry. I'm s-sorry that name is r-r-ridiculous. Can I call you Gary? Nice—nice middle ground?" Rick grabbed a spare stick and poked at the fire.

"Not Gary," squeaked Eleanore. When Rick gave her a look, she added quickly, "It's rude to not call him by his real name."

Rick narrowed his eyes, but conceded: "Well, Gootary Larry, it's your lucky day b-because you're gonna show us tourists around Gromflam Prime."