Good & Evil Rush tomorrow

So for a while I’ve been working on this comic, It involves two foxes who may or may not be representing Yin and Yang as they try to deal with themselves and the world around them in parallel adventures.

The vast majority is not online but I do have a website where I plan to rectify that: http://goodevilcomic.com/

Tomorrow from 4:00pm to some time later (eastern US time) I’m going to be uploading a new page every half hour. If you would like to see it from the beginning here’s the link: http://goodevilcomic.com/comic/good-evil-chapter-1-title/

If you enjoy my writing, this comic is little more than a visual story, and I mean that because you need to have an open mind when looking at my drawings šŸ˜›

If you like Consider Subtlety please also follow Good and Evil. You wont be disappointed.

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Johnny6

<————– Continued from Johnny5

Pat looked out the window. As he furiously smashed buttons onĀ  the observation room console, he swiveled the microphone and spoke.

“Johnny you need to relax.”

Johnny did not respond as the Regallion came into view on the far side of the station.

“Johnny, the combat stims should be wearing off now. Just THINK for a moment.”said Pat.

The ship ponderously turned about and aimed it’s prow directly at the room where Pat was. The energy bursts from the engines fired out from behind and into the vast blackness in the background.

Pat needed to act. Words were not going to work with someone hopped up on solder juice. He needed to use the emergency transporter. Pat stopped pushing buttons, and looked towards the yellow and black bordered glass chamber on the adjacent wall. The empty space spoke only danger to him, and the words of his training instructor came back to him.

The gruff, cropped-top, aviator-sporting pro spoke with the intense authority of a man who was required to give a safety speech. Truth be told the mustachioed fellow did not expect any of the valets to do anything correctly.

“This is the A1-7 transporter. It is very similar to the standard pedestrian model, however it does not have a direct link to any standard receiving portal. In the case of an emergency where a ship is out of control and headed towards the station, this transporter can be used to “board” the out of control ship. It accesses a transporter inside and deposits a subject in there.

Be warned however, that these devices are unstable and can constitute a serious threat if used improperly. Without the exact correct coordinates, a subject will simply dissipate beyond the realm of scientific knowledge.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Pat’s temple. The Regallion approaching the point of no return. The space Valet prepared the A1-7 system, planned out the trajectory of the ship, and pulled himself from his chair.

As fast as his legs could take him, he heaved himself across the room, threw open the door to the chamber, and stepped inside. Through the glass of the window and the chamber, the Regallion continued on, without any sign of deviation, and no word from Johnny.

Inside the chamber was a big red button. On the wall was a red and green light. With the coordinates set, all he needed was to hit the button, just as the ship passed into that place in time and space. Pat tried to watch the dim green light, waiting for it to spark to life, yet the spaceship outside was growing nearer. The flashing lights of the station patrol could be seen forming behind the ship, but they were too far and to late to do anything.

Suddenly the light flashed green and Pat slammed his hand down on the red button. It was not like the other transporter. It did not go “Whirr”, it made a piercing, radioactive “VOIP”, de-atomizing Pat and casting him into the temporary link with the Regallion’s transporter.

Pat found himself in a dark room falling violently into a stack of boxes.Pat felt as though he was the thickness of a five mile piece of string that had been wrapped around a thumbtack. Slowly shaking off the twists in his thoughts and the sudden understanding of pea soup, Pat pushed himself up from the boxes, tripping several times before getting up in the dark. He staggered towards where he thought the door was as his mind came back up to speed.

The door to the small storage closet burst open as Pat fell into a corridor. The hallway had orange rust walls with brown seashell imprinted borders. The carpeting was a guacamole green and the ceiling was white. Along the walls were various portraits of people, and end tables with sky blue or green lamps. The doors were all brown wood with brass knobs.

It was as though whoever designed this ship was fascinated by detour from the early 1970’s.

It phased Pat a moment before he took off, his heavy breaths deepening in his panic to find where the bridge might be in this giant flying house.

magnificentfacilities.wordpress.com

magnificentfacilities.wordpress.com

To be continued…

Johnny5

<———continued from Johnny 4

The Ragallion Quadrant Skipper, broken of it’s restraints, cruised into the digital traffic lanes. The massive ship then unfurled two solar sails, catching the light and radiation to further power the thrusters.

All sorts of bells and whistles were going off in the huge chrome and white cockpit. Johnny jammed the thruster pedal with his boot and slammed the energy retention intake to maximum. A wide smile broke over his face, his eyes bulging, and the veins in his head pulsing. He did not heed any kind of protocol or decorum; simply on manual controls, Johnny’s head pounded with the thoughts a subwoffer might have during a series of deep base drones.

Pat’s voice came over the Radio after a calming series of notes amid the warnings and flashing lights.

“Hey man, I’m gonna try to talk you down. It might be kinda imposable, and you’re probably freaking out a little right now-”

Johnny’s smile and expression remained in his rageful mania as he grasped the controls to the multi-billion Credit vessel. Only his eyes moved, his pinpoint pupils and irises sliding to the right side of his head towards the mic.

“-but, you need to try to think about the consequences to your actions. It’s not to late to just stop and let me take over. You can calm down from this, I’ve seen it, It’s a fail safe for the solders so they don’t go Bonkers, you just need to focus on stopping and calming down.”

Johnny’s brain did not hear a word after “think about the consequences”. He imagined continuing to pilot the vessel across the spaceport towards the docking station. He thought about how when the ship collided with the observation room, the consequence would be a massive explosion.The Regallion was a large ship with thousands of gallons of fuel along with the reactor coils from it’s solar array. The wreckage and destruction would likely result in docking bay 27’s shut down for years.Ā  Surely this would be enough to accomplish his goal of killing Pat.

Gripping the controls and grinding his teeth, he pressed forward on the accelerator. A freighter vessel on an intersecting course pulled up just before the space-ship thundered past, it’s V9-TX main thrusters had the force to send the small (more modern) CarrillionĀ  spinning out into space as the Ragallion blew by.

Johnny thought about how much Pat deserved to die for his transgression and like the pinpoints of his pupils, his vision was in a direct tunnel towards reaching that goal. That was until one thought floated through his narrow gaze. To be fair it was part of a larger feeling. It went something like this:

“killpatkillpatkillpatkillpatkillpatkillpatfasterfasterfasterfasterfasterKill Pat I’m going to explode KILL PAT KILL-”

Like the rest of a dubstep song after the drop, his addled thoughts and anger all crashed together into a cacophony of chaos.

“I’m going to explode.”

Johnny pulled his foot back from the accelerator. His brain was suddenly conflicted.

“But I need to kill Pat.”

“But I’m going to die”

“Why do I need to kill Pat?”

“Because…he …did something”

The Regallion, still at a hideous momentum for the spaceport, hurtled on as docking bay 27 neared.

Johnny4

“WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THOSE!!” Johnny squeaked into the mic, sweat beading on his forehead and commingling with the irritated skin on his pimple thing. The vision around the exact point he was looking blended together in faded colors as his pupils shrunk to about half their normal size.

“Hey man, chill out, this isn’t a secure channel.” Said Pat “Just try to find a way to-”

“Did you just tell the guy – you gave combat stimulants to – to calm down?” asked Johnny, the tingling bumping pulsing adrenaline coursing through his dilated veins speeding up now.

“Listen,” Said Pat “you’re going to be fine if you just-”

“No, You listen, I think there is a fundamental flaw in your fucking logic!” Johnny said hunched over the controls, breathing heavy, the frustration of the hangover, the tunnel vision of the stimulants, the sting on his forehead. “I don’t have a freakin’ choice, I’m NOT going to calm down, and I’m going to take the ship in docking bay 556 back, and when I do, I’m gonna RAM IT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!”. In that moment, the pressure in his head had built up to the point where the bump on his forehead burst open, and a fleck of white shot out and landed on the observation window.

“Johnny-”

Johnny smashed his fist into the button for the mic, his face purple with the onset of a vicious rage. He made his way to the airlock door which opened before him into the dock with the transporter as the lone object in the white paneled room. His boots scuffed against the linoleum floor, the red in his eyes were that of crimson hatred and anxiety.Ā  Blood ran in a small rivulet from his forehead.

(I feel as though here it may be necessary to tell you a little about the drug Pat had unwittedly given his co-worker. What he thought was basic acetaminophen was actually a chemical compound labeled only under the TOP SECRET database at the Federation capital. No one besides high level security forces actually knew it’s chemical name and it’s strict monitoring made it a nearly imposable substance to obtain relationally. Pat had some serious connections, and friends with drug problems. Simply known to the small levels of proliferation, both legal and illicit, the compound was simply called “Stims”.

Stims legal uses were to give to drop troops as they were about to hurtle from an orbital platform through a planet’s atmosphere and immediately into heavy ground combat. The Drug balanced out certain chemicals for peak awareness, pain reduction, endurance, and control.

This had the overall effect of actually heightening one’s metabolism, blood flow, O2 intake, speed, focus, and irritability for one at rest; It’s “control” effects only helpful to those under extreme physical conditions. The depressant effects of the alcohol, the dehydration of the hangover, and his previous irritability commingled with the Stims that had only begun to enter his body. He was beginning to “come up” as it were, but at the “peak” of the combined effects….)

Johnny dropped the ignition key for the Carrilion on the floor and waited on the transporter. A moment later the blue light swirled around him and he was at docking bay 556. He moved like an ape machine, snatching the ignition key for the Quadrant Skipper and stepping through the air locking doors. The Quadrent skipper was a long term space passenger ship, made for the opulent and well to do, like a yatchet or something. This one was named the Regallion.

Johnny moved through the living space, the game tables and puffy couches in recessed areas in the floor passed as unnoticed as the minibar near the cockpit. The valet jumped into the pilot seat, turned the ignition key, punched in the clearance numbers, and ratcheted up the thrusters to full power.

The kinetic energy of the space yacht’s engines scored the rear wall of the spaceport and the ship groaned as the coupling arms fought against their force. A heaving sound of metal would have been heard by Johnny if he was not an ion in a building torrent of anger. Instead, he was just, “aware” that the couplings had broken off and the ship was flung forwards into space.

He had one goal forming in his mind. It began as rational as anyone could be. he was going to bring back the ship needed at the docking bay, collect any tip, and return to pat, very perturbed about the fact that he had been given something he did not expect.

This idea changed in a manner of moments, and although at the time his remark of, quote, “…I’m gonna RAM [the ship from docking bay 556] UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!” was largely an empty threat, it began ringing through his mind. The moment of running the Quadrant Skipper into the observation room, the huge explosion, the crushing metal. It all became….so appealing.

To be continued.

Johnny3

<————— Continued from Johnny2

The Carillion Orion lurched upwards towards the docking bay. Johnny rubbed his eyes to combat the yellow spots which had formed on his vision. The weight of his hangover was a constant pressure but at this point the act of piloting was second nature to him. Carillions all had the same thruster and control layout to each other, and they were a dime a dozen. The seats were big puffy leather; everything clicked into place, the buttons were an old school style, raised lighted cubes which clicked in and out of place. The screens were all a green hue as he input the coordinates and path of motion through the busy space port to the private valet hanger.

“Okay” Said Johnny to himself as a welling in his stomach began to quicken his focus. As the ship made its way, larger ships with outboard docking passed as the blinking lights and windows of the station fluttered by from the huge mass of the floating city.

He eased forward on the long lever at the center console, slowly and deftly navigating between cruisers and digital checkpoints.

Suddenly a Velock Nightwhisp darted out from the underside of the fueling station. It was a smaller ship, modified from the Velock F-75 fightercraft. It blazed across the surface of the station without regard for the Digital Traffic Navigation Systems (DTNS). Several whirrs and whistles went off on the Orion’s consoles and Johnny had only a split second to react. Largely it felt like his body was some other entity but it at least had a better reaction time than his mind. In a flash he somehow changed the guidance to manual and jerked the controls up and back.

The Nightwhisp sped through his pathway, missing inches from each other. Johnny let out a gasp of relief. But, he was now not on his planned trajectory and at any second a similar scenario could occur. Two Station Five interceptors whizzed past moments later in pursuit of the nightwhisp as a large freighter passed overhead. Johnny looked about the cabin at the sensor arrays. They showed no more incoming ships. Calmly he returned to his set course.

“Asshole.” said Johnny, pushing forward on the thrusters towards the large bay of the valet hanger.

The hanger dominated the entire wing of station five, angled metal scaffolding encased several ships which had already been parked. Another Carrilion, a C-class, was detached and slowly made its way out in front of him, but this time with ample room.

Johnny passed the bays to the open one where the other ship left, passing all manor of spacecraft illuminated by orange and yellow lights in their holds.

Shifting the thrusters, he spun the ship around and used the reverse engines to back slowly into the bay. This was without a doubt the hardest part of the job, one hair off or askew could cause the couplings in the bay to miss a sturdy hold on the craft.

Most ships now a days had reverse guidance systems with sensors and correction codes. The Carrilion Orion was by no means a modern craft. It had one camera and a dot in the center. As Johnny jammed the lever to reverse, the screen in front of him lit up and showed the docking bay.

Johnny’s small spike in adrenaline from the near miss with the Nightwhisp commingled with a concern for the yellow spots which seemed to appear on the edge of his vision. The welling in his stomach grew and he felt a tingling in his forearms and fingers as he moved to the joystick next to the main controls. His head still pounded with the dehydration of his hangover as he channeled his energy to use calm, smooth movements. The pimple on his forehead hurt as he concentrated on putting the little red dot exactly on the center of the back wall of the dock.

This precise task frustrated him beyond any reason yet necessity and some divine power flowed through Johnny. Against all the negative factors blaring out for attention, Johnny was surprised with himself as he eased the ship back with perfect precision.

He let out a tired groan and fell back in his chair when he heard the couplings latching onto the fuselage.

The radio suddenly squawked from the controls of the Orion.

“Yo man, bring back the ship in dock 556.”

Johnny recognized the voice as his co-worker Pat.

“Rodger.” he said, disengaging the ignition key and standing very quickly to get to the transporter outside the bay dock.

His head rushed and the yellow flashed before his eyes in a moment of disorientation.

Gaining his bearings, he slammed the button to the radio again and yelled into the mic. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GIVE ME!”

Pat did not reply for a long few seconds.

His voice came back, crackly over the mic of the Carillion.

“Ohhh.”

“OH WHAT!” screamed johnny, the tingling in his arms taking over his shoulders and neck.

“I think…I may have accidentally given you combat stims.”

To be continued

Johnny2

<——–Continued from Johnny 1

“Hey man, I’m sorry.” Johnny said, stepping off the raised disk, his legs feeling like jello, his head feeling like fifty pounds. “I have a wicked hangover.”

His co-worker’s name was Pat. Pat was a bigger guy. Pat laughed.

“I hear that. You look like you were hit by a truck.” (trucks were outdated, but the expression still hung around)

Johnny smiled slightly and sat next to Pat at the control table. The sudden rest brought Johnny down on his elbows against the console. He groaned.

“Is it really that bad?” said Pat.

“I’d be fine if the window broke and I was sucked out into space.” mumbled Johnny

“Well I have some motren.”

“motren?” said Johnny, his head still firmly planted in his arms.

“If you wanted some.”

“I’ve never taken any for a hangover before.” Johnny said into the table.

“What?” said Pat. “You’ve never taken medicine for a hangover?”

Johnny looked up just to see Pat’s genuine reaction of shock.

“Nah, I only ever just rode them out.”

“That’s crazy. I never would have made it through the academy without motrin or stims.”

“To be fair, I’ve only ever had three really bad hangovers. This one might be four. I was up till Five at Dave’s unit, and I ended up sleeping on his couch until One. I had to deposit my credits at the bank and return a book before I caught an hour nap back at home. Now I”m at this here.”

Johnny thunked his head against the table, suddenly realizing that he needed to be awake. He lifted his head and nearly fell backwards as he straitened himself in the chair. Pat could see the glassy redness of Johnny’s eyes and the pain in his expression.

“Damn. Look take three of these.” Pat dug into his pocket and produced a bottle, dumped out three pills and handed them towards Johnny.

Johnny regarded the offering of three red diamond shaped pills skeptically. Sure he had worked with Pat for a few months, but he didn’t really know the guy. Those pills could be anything. They sat there, mysteriously holding any possible effect within them from poisons to hallucinogenics. Their reaction with his body was completely unknown.

But that never stopped him before.

He held out his hand meagerly and Pat flipped his hand over, dumping the caplets into Johnny’s who quickly pretended to take all three in one gulp. In reality Johnny only swallowed two, just to be safe. He snuck the third into his pocket.

Just then, the lights and warnings on the console in front of the two whirred and beeped. Pat stood, checking none of them.

“Well I guess we have one incoming.” Said Pat. “I’ll take the first one, you…you hang out for a second.”Ā  Pat strolled over to the transporter and in a sudden whirr of blue energy was de-atomized from the room.

Johnny looked out the observation window to see a new elite class Vector Stromirani making its way towards the dock. Those things were F-A-S-T with two outboard V-X Jupiter rockets, sleek thrusters and paneling. The cabin interior was opulent without being to…verbose. It brought a smile to Johnny’s face to see it, they handled like second body to him, a big metal body that could break space and time but still be smooth and light on the controls. This one was orange with blue accents. If he had 38,000,000 Credits, that’s the kind of ship he would get, only in black and red.

The Vector docked for a moment in the exchange Johnny knew so well (as it was his current employment). A minute later the ship took off towards the hanger at the top of the space station. He watched the dream ship until it was cut off from his view. The thought of piloting one again left him him in a lingering daze, he even forgot his hangover for a delirious moment before it was quickly brought back to him by the sudden whirr of controls and warnings.

A pit formed in his stomach as he waited for the ID number. It started with F67- which meant it was a freighter. He sighed as he stood and looked out the window.

A Carrilian Orion. The clunkiest, most utilitarian ship that visited the station. Normally they arrived at the service dock. Dock 27 was for patrons and travelers. He turned, still bleary eyed to a small microphone on the control panel.

“F67-GTMF3.” He said into the mic “State your purpose on Station Five.”

A crackly voice returned.

“Name’s Orely, a gambler from Omega, here to see the games of chance on Station Five. I won this ship fair and square, I know it’s-”

The Orely guy continued talking long after Johnny lost interest. He wasn’t a lost freight driver.

Johnny switched off the mic and waited for the ship to dock at the bay before hopping (as well as he could “hop”) onto the transporter. In a wirr of blue energy he arrived at the staging area of the docking station. The couplings latched on to the fuselage of the Orion and the airlock door opened revealing a tall gentlemen in a white suit and a wide brimmed hat, opulently dressed. Johnny with his Mohawk, work shirt, shorts and boots looked dejectedly at the man.

Orely stepped out into the staging area towards the podium and transporter where Johnny stood.

“I say boy, do keep it close,” He said “I know it’s a piece of junk, but its my piece of junk, and there’s more where this came from…”

Orely held out a bill worth 500 units.

Johnny perked up as well as he could, making sure the bill made it safely and quickly into his shorts pocket before holding up a small plastic card on his belt. Which scanned Orely’s ID card automatically. The strange gambler mozied on past Johnny’s podium and through an automatic door to the Traveler’s Lounge.

“Have a good time on station five!” Mumbled Johnny. He looked at the door to the Hefty ship and walked through to the drivers seat.

His headache seemed to be fading as he powered up the thrusters, The couplings detached and the ship freed into space. Then the spots appeared.

A touch of backround during descent.

The Drug Lynda had just taken (called “Mox V”) is made and refined from a planet that now shares it’s namesake. When the galactic system was still new. The small, greyish blue planet on the very edge of the system was horrible and arid with little life and no known resources. One plant grew in huge patches on the planet, it became known as the Mox plant. The Mox is a twisting and woody vine that grows in tangled brambles that are attracted to any type of heat but need the liquid of the frozen poles. One of the original research team members sent there by the intra-galactic science corps. noticed that the Mox had within it a compound that could act with certain nuro-receptors of some intelligent life species with, potentially, very interesting effects.

The long and short of it was that this researcher stole several samples of the plant and worked nine years before distilling out the compound. In a total it took the attempts of five methods before it became Mox V as it is known today across the galaxy. The researcher’s second step was to take it themself and study the effects. What the scientist found was that it produced a heavy euphoria accompanied by psychoactive hallucinations and a rush of positive and racing thoughts. The dose they had taken lasted for three days.

The researcher took the remainder of the drug across the star systems to every club rest stop and major city with the help of his roommate and two friends. They sold it cheap, until everything that had been distilled was gone, and the market was clamoring for the drug. It’s saving grace and the biggest reason for it’s success was that it worked in settings of adrenaline or relaxation. Whether dancing or locked into a couch, the drug was phenomenal…and addictive.

Still yet known was that the drug was from Mox V (at the time the planet was called G7875N75) and the strange plants that grew on it. When the research team moved on. The researcher, roommate and two friends took what money they had made and bought property where the plant grew most rampant. Because no known resources were on the planet, it was never claimed. The planet was cheap and in ten years the drug money paid for the planet to be bought and made sovereign in the galactic system. The planet’s only export, deemed illegal by many systems, was the drug Mox V.

Great industrialized distilleries covered the surfice, and all manor of “enthusiasts” make trips there. Some live there. They say that the air is lightly dusted with the purple vapor it produces. The researcher stepped down as the president of the drug planet and left his roommate in charge. But not before emptying out the vast treasury and searching for adventure.

That was how that planet got it’s name, and until recent to our story, it was the only place one could get Mox V in the galaxy.

The researcher was a small Gederian. They are small and have a coat of reddish-tan fur. They closely resemble something canine from old earth but walk on two legs and have opposable thumbs. They lave long ears and a tail with many spines like that of a hedgehog.

The name of the Gedarian researcher was Grivo.

A Glimpse at Grivo

Why are you doing this? Thought Grivo.

I should be asking you the same question….Thought Grivo.

Don’t question my decisions…you…cant see she’s homesick.

So? Why should we give a damn?

Well she got us off Talfur and fixed the ship. We do kind of owe her.

We don’t owe her anything, and your right, she did fix the ship, she did get us off Talfur. But let’s not forget the time sensitive material on Gredux 5676.

It will only be a slight detour.

No. It wont. There’s no jump gate to Earth anymore. It could take weeks, months even.

Whatever. We’re stopping at Ganymede. We can figure out our plan from there.

We could just leave her –

Don’t even think about it. Thought Grivo.

Fine…

Lynda returned from the rear quarters of the ship. Her face was a little more stretched. She looked at the new course they were taking. Away from the jump gate further into space and towards the small moon of Jupiter. It had once been an Earth Colony.

“Where are we going?”

Grivo looked back at her. Her worn red flight suit had droplets of water on it. her normally round face seemed to hang and her eyes hung downward.

“Ganymede…then Earth” he said finally before facing towards the windows.

Lynda lifted her head.

“What. Really?!” Said Lynda before she composed herself.

“Ahem well um why?” she said.

“I just felt that…um …well the thing.” Grivo glanced away, his furry brow furrowed over his eyes. “Alright I felt sorry for you.”

Grivo turned to see Lynda utterly speechless. She watched him like she had never seen a four foot anthropomorphic fox alien before. The little alien looked back up indigently at her.Ā  Lynda raised an eyebrow and then convulsed with a snerk before bursting into laughter.

“HAHA…YOU….haha- felt- sorry.!?” She said, supporting herself on the low roof of the cabin.

I knew it. Thought Grivo

“Shut Up.” Said Grivo Turning back to the controls of the ship.

“I…” Lynda gasped “I’m sorry. You don’t feel Anything!”

“You know I can still change my mind, and we could move on to the conduit. A good few thousand of light years away.”

Lynda calmed herself and walked over to the puffy passenger seat.

“Okay i’m sorry,” she said stifling another outburst “Thanks.”

She plopped herself down and threw her boots up on the dash holding back a secondary aftershock snerk.

“Even so. it would be good to stop on the moon before we depart. The ship needs supplies and some real tools. It would suck if we fell apart during the jump.”

“Don’t you go into like another dimension if you fall out of a jump?” said Lynda

“Hell I don’t think anybody knows. Why would you want to try?”

“Just a thought” Lynda said. She thought for a moment as the ship began arcing towards the moon, away from the gate.

“Look Fox We-”

“Don’t call me that.” Said Grivo.

” – We don’t need to go to earth. It’s a kind thing to offer. But Lets just be on our way after we get the supplies.” She leaned over and switched off the radio which seemed to be playing Elmore James at the time. “The music from my home planet spurred a…momentary… weakness on my part.”

Grivo looked over as Lynda returned to the laid back position, stretching her legs back out and placing her red boots on the dash.She crossed her arms and watched as the gate slowly passed by the wide window. Grivo pivoted towards the atmosphere of Ganymede.

Good. She doesn’t want to go. That’s that. Thought Grivo.

But she’s probably just saying that. Insist on it.

Where the fuck is all this empathy coming from? Ganymede, Sure: supplies and whatnot. But there is TREASURE waiting for you on 5676. Yet it’s only there as long as a salvaging satellite or a patrol ship doesn’t swing by.

That said. Imagine what undiscovered gems could be on earth…

Lynda glanced over to Grivo. The Alien was piloting with a spacy concentration. Silent and unmoving. She reached over and grabbed an old magazine from the side of the dash and opened it. There was an article about a new craze sweeping the galaxy about five years ago.

Suddenly Grivo jumped from his chair and ran across the dash. Lynda heard his paws tapping across the console a split second before the magazine was ripped from her hands and replaced by the intense teeth and eyes of Grivo’s desperation. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

“DO YOU WANT TO GO TO EARTH OR NOT! TELL ME NOW! YES OR NO! NO OTHER WORDS! RIGHT NOW!”

Lynda yelped and threw Grivo off of her. He fell to the floor but the alien rose quickly out of a roll, standing defiantly at her.

Lynda felt the ‘yes’ burning inside her from some deep place that she had tried to cover up. But the voice of her job, her profession, that which she prided herself and lived on for so long told her to stick to the plan. This weird little Alien had a bounty on his head so big, she could buy her own planet.

But the music in her soul put up a great argument.

“N…uh” She said, looking away.

Grivo watched her, his mind racing between binary points.

Go

Don’t

Go

Don’t

Lynda turned back to him. “Just give me some time on Ganymede to think about it. Jeez.” She said before turning back to the window.

Grivo lowered his arms. His tail coiled and a frustration broiled so hot for a moment. But then like a switch of clarity and calm, Grivo said:

“Okay!” and hopped gayly back up into the pilot seat. he pressed a few buttons and clicked the intercom for entry procedures.

Weird little creature. Thought Lynda.

part 4—> http://bit.ly/1z2Ym3r