aliens – Page 7 – The Creative Chronicles of Dave Stancliff

A Visit To A Pet Store on Uranus

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Pet Paradise, Ganth Mall,

Iloth, Uranus, circa 3210

“Fetch! Good boy!”

“That’s when to start them,” Lord Veturan complimented the trainer/trader Daid-Et.

“Three-year-olds can be very trainable with the right routines.”

The little boy went over and sat at massive Lord Veturan’s feet, waiting for a treat. The Jarian Knight pulled out a thick cookie from a bag hanging from his side, and tossed it to the boy who deftly caught it with his mouth.

“Now off with you Ra Ra!” Daid-Et told the boy, as he skipped off with his cookie.

“What breed is he again?”

“Asian, my Lord. Comes from good stock. He’s got the blood of a couple of Chinese emperors of note.”

“But what kind of pet will he make?”

“A very entertaining one, My Lord, his breed is famous for their acrobatic powers and willingness to obey any command.”

“When will he be for sale?

“In one more year, great lord.”

“What else have you got that’s ready to go right now?” Lord Veturan inquired.

“Thank you for asking Lord. I have a set of twins from earth’s Zion Park in Utah, USA. They’re nine-years old and have had all of their shots.”

“Males, or females?”

“Males. They’ve were neutered two years ago and are very calm. They have good bone structure and will surely be very strong. Here’s their cage. Ne Ne…Obo…wake up! You have visitors!”

The two boys stood up while trying to wipe the sleep from their eyes.

“I see what you mean. Good bone structure. What kind of pets do they make?”

“The best, wise Lord. They’re known for their loyalty, strength, and playful disposition. As you know, twins are very hard to find these days.”

“How much?” Lord Veturan asked.

“For you kind sir, a mere 300 Uranium Qutreels.”

“You old bandit! Here’s 200 Uranium Qutreels. Have them delivered to my ship before nightfall.”

On the way back home to Saturn, Lord Veturan watched the two boys playfully wrestling over a toy he tossed to them. He thought about his wife and what a great birthday present he was bringing her.

He was hopeful they would live longer than the her last pet, who only made it sixty years. It was hard to part with the lovable beasts. They were almost like family.

As It Stands, humans could make good pets…with a little training.

Why Egyptians Left Pluto To Go To Earth

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From the Notes of the Royal Scribe, Cneas Na:

“In the pages of the Milky Way Chronicles you can find where Egyptians once lived on the icy dwarf planet Pluto.

Yes, it’s true.

Their technology allowed them to survive underground in one of the coldest places in the solar system, at roughly minus 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

Always industrious, the first Egyptians had created an atmosphere that could sustain life. They lived in massive domed colonies that were temperature controlled and had oxygen.

It took a million years for the first Plutonians to evolve and control their atmosphere. Their early engineers and scientists were worshipped by following generations. Then the cults emerged and began fighting with one another.

Once famous for their tolerance, Plutonians broke into factions ruled by dictator-like priests. Each cult demanded that it’s followers facefully serve the priests demands without question.

But there was one cult that still valued the freedom to speak, and to be treated as an equal. It’s followers had the smartest scientists and engineers on the dwarf planet.

There came a time when the cult decided that they were tired of living underground because of the bitter cold surface of Pluto. They also didn’t want to get involved in the increasing hostilities between the other cults.

The chronicles note that a great space craft was built and the members of the cult arrived on earth during the final part of the Neolithic period beginning c. 6000 BC. Their arrival corrisponded with what earth historians call the Naqada III period in Egypt.

The Plutonians quickly adapted to the language of the desert nomads and farmers alongside the Nile River in Upper Egypt.

During this time in history, sometimes called the “Zero Dynasty” the Plutonians referred to themselves as Egyptians.

In the time which followed prehistoric Egypt and coalesced around 3150 BC (according to conventional Egyptian chronology) Upper and Lower Egypt became united under (once Plutonian) Menes.

Some historians refer to him as Narmer.

Menes was the first of the builders to bury sections of the great space craft that originally brought them to earth, beneath large mounds. His successors built the Spinx, and the Pyramids, to permanently guard the sacred ship’s six sections.

Some modern day historians and archelogists believe that the Egyptians had help from aliens to build their mighty monuments.

But, they are belittled by their peers who are afraid of admitting that there are other intelligent beings in the solar system.

I wonder if they’ll ever find out the truth?”

As It Stands, the truth is out there!

Sacrifice Day For Venus

Venus, 2208

A hundred years had passed since Venus lost the war against Mars.

Once a year, during the Harvest season, a Martian enforcer squad comes to The Great Hall of Aphrodite to collect the Sacrifice.

The Sacrifice, was 70 young Venusian females; one from every nation on Venus. They were wrapped in golden cloaks worth a tidy sum in Martian markets. It was a day of mourning for all Venusians; especially for the parents of the women taken.

As always, the leaders of the nations met after the Sacrifice, hoping to come up with a way to stop losing women every year. The leaders, men and women, always gathered at the Temple of Venus to talk.

The floor and walls were milky white marble from earth. Their tall slender Venusian reflections danced across the floor, chased by shadows cast from the setting sun. They glided gracefully across the marble like dancers, as the Venusians moved around the room in clusters of conversations.

Finally, when the moons came out, they adjourned the meeting with no solutions.

That night, a young woman asked her father, who was one of the leaders, how far would they go to stop the Martians from annually plundering their planet? The father, puzzled by the question, asked her what she meant?

“If we must send sacrifices, why not tainted ones that could destroy all life on Mars?”

The father, who’d been sitting, stood up and approached his daughter. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Martians have no resistance against our diseases. No more than we have of theirs.”

The import of what his daughter was saying made him sad, but hopeful too. “Do you purpose to ask for volunteers for this deadly mission?”

“No. We’ll use the regular lottery system to decide the 70 who will be infected,” she said.

After a special meeting two days later the die was cast.

The scientists decided which virus to use. They also agreed not to give it to the women until the night before the Sacrifice. It would only take 24-hours before becoming deadly to the host, and whoever was near them.

There was no cure.

Meanwhile, the 70 women selected were treated like the heroines they were. Every door to every convenience on Venus was open to them. Strangers asked for their autographs.

There was no worry that the Martians would get wind of their plans because they had become lax during the last couple of decades. They didn’t even have representatives or spies to monitor the Venusians anymore.

Venus was considered the arm-pit of the solar system to Martians who hated having to spend any time there.

When time for the next Sacrifice came the Venusians were ready. The Martians who escorted the women to the space cruiser idly noticed that there were no cries of mercy from the women or the crowd that had gathered.

Their contempt for the peaceful Venusians pushed away any warning signs from their minds.

As It Stands, this my warped version of a space David and Goliath story.

Doctor Dark and Mr. Moore’s Case of a Lifetime

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Alternate Earth, Circa 2017

London, England

“If we take one more case about spying on cheating spouses, I’m quitting!”

“Easy, Doctor Dark, there are reasons why we take those cases. They pay well, and we have certain expenses…like rent and food, that we must met,” Mr. Moore explained.

“Well, I’m sick of them. Can’t we work with Scotland Yard?”

“We could, I imagine, if they wanted us. But they don’t.”

“And, why not?”

“For two reasons; the first is your background – you’ve been arrested numerous times for public drunkenness you sot. That doesn’t set too well with those blokes. The second reason is they don’t even pay as much as our “domestic” cases do.”

“Damn,” Doctor Dark uttered in a subdued voice.

“Chin up old boy, I may be onto something big. Our contact in Scotland Yard said there’s a murderer roaming the streets of London who has easily eluded authorities for three months now.”

“How’s that? I’ve seen nothing about a serial killer on the news?”

“Apparently, he’s so clever that he makes each murder look like the victim died from an accident, or by natural causes. It was a stroke of pure luck that the authorities even found out about the Mastermind Killer.”

“Mastermind Killer. Quite a sobriquet for a cold-blooded murderer,” Doctor Dark observed.

“Quite so. I have a summary of the murders, dates, times, locations, and detectives notes here,” Mr. Moore said, as he handed a thick file to Doctor Dark.

The two would-be criminal sleuths spent all of their spare time investigating the Mastermind Killer. Days turned to weeks, as they tirelessly roamed the city streets at all hours.

Finally, there was a breakthrough.

They witnessed a cloaked figure purposely throw a woman over a balcony. One moment the two were standing on the balcony of the five-story apartment complex across the street; the next, the woman was silently falling to her death, making a sickening thud on the cobblestones.

The killer wasn’t aware of them, as they lingered in the shadows watching him. Minutes later a cloaked figure came out of the apartment complex and started walking towards them.

At the last moment they jumped out and tackled the tall figure. Then something strange happened. As Mr. Moore pulled on the cloak in an attempt to get a better grip, it gave way and revealed an alien being!

Despite their shock, both men used their combined weight to hold the alien down. It’s pupiless black eyes blinked in anger and surprise. It’s skin was translucent, showing a complex network of veins and odd-looking internal organs.

“Blinking hell! Mr. Moore! What are we going to do with this thing?”

“Hold on…I’m going to put handcuffs on it.”

Once that was accomplished, they stood the alien up and duck-walked him to their van. It was an old modified paddy wagon that still had one bench seat, and a set of shackles wielded into the side behind it.

Doctor Dark sat directly across from the alien on the salvaged back seat of a 1960 Cadillac they bought in a rummage sale.

“We’ll interrogate this bloke when we get home,” Mr. Moore said, as he pulled out onto the street and accelerated.

Once inside the house they took the handcuffed alien down to the basement and hooked him up to a device around his thin neck that looked like a bark collar for yappy mutts.

“Cheerio! Time to use your translation software Doctor.”

A bank of computers suddenly came alive behind Doctor Dark. He adjusted some dials, pushed a couple of buttons, and turned the speaker system on.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Kiss my tushie!” the alien rudely replied.

“Now there! There’ll be none of that. You see those metal rings on your ankles? I can flip a switch…like this (the alien screeched in pain) or you can be civil.”

Tears ran down the alien’s black eyes and it stuttered a response, “Whatever you say master.”

“Why are you running around killing humans? Shouldn’t you be in space somewhere?”

“I was a stowaway on the Martian Cruise Ship that offers tours of the planets in the Milky Way. The passengers were allowed to step outside the ship, according to international protocols, for ten minutes to experience your atmosphere.

“Just my luck that one of the crew members checked the baggage hold where I was hiding. I managed to get past him and ran outside. I didn’t stop running until I found this place.”

So that doesn’t tell use why you’re going around killing people,” Mr. Moore said.

“It’s all I know,” the alien explained. “I’m wanted on three planets for multiple murders. What else was I going to do?”

“This won’t do at all! Doctor, throw that switch again, and let’s see how long it takes to electocute this monster!”

The next day.

“It’s not my fault that the body melted into a bloody mess,” Doctor Dark contended.

“No one is going to believe us now. We could have been famous.” Mr. Moore moaned.

As It Stands, my sorry slueths may be back again some day.

Colorado USA, 2377: ‘It Isn’t A Good Day To Die’

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A year after the Krillion invasion of earth, there were still holdouts who didn’t surrender.

They were driven to isolated – hard to get to – parts of the planet.

The last Americans in North America found refuge in the Rocky Mountains 3,000 mile span, from the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador, to central Alabama.

The people who fled there still had a fighting spirit and an abiding thirst for revenge.

The survivors represented a cross-section of races. They shared a common bond; they all loved freedom. Most were still scattered about in small multi-ethnic groups. But one of the groups consisted of forty-eight Sioux men, and women.

There were representatives from all seven Sioux bands. The leader, Cloud Walker, was a descendant of the great chief Touch The Clouds from the Miniconjou band.

Cloud Walker served for 10 years in the U.S. Army. He was a Special Forces Ranger who saw many perilous missions in his highly decorated career. He was also a natural leader who inspired loyalty.

It was he who brought the group together and organized a survival system best suited for their circumstances. They group never stayed in one place for more than two days. They had hunters who went out and killed game the traditional ways.

The only person who carried modern weapons was Cloud Walker. He wore a Glock 48 automatic Lasergun, and carried a molecular destroying rifle on a sling. It was one of the Krillions own weapons that he had taken in an ambush two months ago.

For nearly a year, Cloud Walker taught his group to use military tactics including ambushes, sabotage, raids, petty warfare, hit-and-run tactics, and mobility to fight a larger and less-mobile military.

The aliens used their advanced technology to destroy all of the traditional armies on earth. Major cities were leveled. Millions of people worldwide were incinerated during the initial three-day attack.

The rest tried to hide as best as they could. Some groups still fought for survival in Asia, Europe, and South America. Governments collapsed in panic as the slaughter continued. But Cloud Walker’s group grew in numbers and confidence.

On July 4th, 2378, Cloud Walkers warriors grew to 147, and they were ready for their first big raid against the Killions. The target was Granby, Colorado. It was once a small tourist resort town not far from Denver.

It now served as a command center for the Krillion invaders who continued to hunt for surviving humans. Granby, nestled along the Continental Divide and Rocky Mountain National Park, was a six-hour walk for Cloud Walkers guerrillas.

They’d been studying the security of the compound for days and were surprised to see there was very little. A few guards lingered outside the two giant domes. After capturing one of the guards they studied him for two days.

It was obvious the aliens had to wear a filtration system in earth’s atmosphere. The system was a mask that wrapped around the lower half of their heads. Tiny feeders ran inside their suits exoskeleton into a small tank of Krillion atmosphere located in the back.

The shiny black exoskeleton space suits were bulky and imposing. Inside however, the actual alien was thin, hairless, and it’s skin was various hues of blue. They were nowhere near as strong as a normal human.

The warriors knew what their foes weaknesses were after 48 hours of experimenting on their live hostage. Just before attacking the guards Cloud Walker took the alien’s mask off and they all watched it die quickly.

“We don’t know how many of them are inside those domes. We do not know if they will be fully armed and dressed, or running around like turtles without their shells,” Cloud Walker quipped.

“Our goal is to kill as many as possible before retreating back into the wilderness. This is a hit and run. No more than 10 minutes before getting out of there. Remember to use your speed.”

One of the men spoke up, “Today is a good day to die.”

Another man, a Hunkappa Sioux, said “My ancestor Sitting Bull said that. “

An Oglala Sioux named Two-toes said, “No. It was Crazy Horse, a great war leader, who said that before attacking Custer.”

Cloud Walker looked at his men and smiled. “My brothers, no Native American wants to die in battle. We were never afraid to fight, but it was some white newspaper man who came up with that silly saying.

“Instead, let me say today is not a day to die, but to overcome our enemies, and to live on to fight another day!”

A war-whoop went up and the warriors moved in on the alien guards.

As It Stands, I’ve always considered native Americans to be a wise race that fell victim to technology.

The Space Hobos of Saturn

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Meeting Hall of the Intergalactic Space Hobos Fraternity

Saturn Chapter – Special Session

“I’ll be straightforward with you,” said the president. “We look like a pack of amateurs!”

The membership stirred uneasily.

“Every Hobo Chapter planet in the Milky Way is racking up better numbers than us. Their Hobos catch three times as many free rides as we do daily. Mars, the leader, records six times as many illegal hops a day more than we do.”

A nervous buzz broke out among the membership. One member stood up on all three legs and asked if he could speak. The president nodded affirmatively and moved away from the podium.

“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Rill-Tara, and I’m the librarian/accountant for our chapter. I’ve been following this disturbing trend for three years now, and I think I know how to turn it around.”

Excited whispers. President Nor-Rav held up all three of his hands and called for silence. “Proceed brother.”

“As we all know, for many years the earthlings had the best hobos in the universe. Then earth became embroiled in inter-planetary wars that sent mankind back to earth’s stone age.

Technology of all kinds was lost. The remaining humans were reduced to hunter gatherers who could no longer read or write. The trappings of their great civilization crumbled and rotted with time.

My interest of study started with the origin of Earth’s great hobos, and then branched out to the years they were dominate in the Milky Way.”

Someone in the crowd yawned.

“Okay! I get the message. I’ll keep it short. The first hobos emerged during the Great Depression. The most well-known hobo of the period was the King of Hobos, “Steam Train Maury.”

Generations of other hobos have been inspired by his exploits. The five-time holder of the title, set the standard for stealth and inventiveness. I couldn’t find much about him as I shambled through earths decaying libraries, but I did find a movie (that I converted into a hologram) about his life.

Earth movie director, Robert Aldrich, made the hobo opus titled, Emperor of the North. After watching this movie I was inspired and invigorated. It was about a brutal conductor of a train who had a personal vendetta against the best train-hopping hobo in the Northwest.

The hobo in the movie was called A-1, and he prevailed against the cruel conductor. I believe this movie can serve as a wake-up call to all of us!”

President Nor-Rav thanked him and took the podium. “Let’s vote on this idea,” he said.

Two weeks later the Saturn Chapter of the Intergalactic Space Hobos Fraternity celebrated when they moved into third place.

As It Stands, I always thought Lee Marvin’s best performance was the character A-1, in Emperor of the North.

The Thing In Ted’s TV

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Ted was 4-years old when the thing in the TV first appeared.

He was watching the roadrunner make a fool out of wily j. coyote when something that kind of looked like an octopus to Ted, appeared and grabbed the unfortunate coyote with its tentacles.

The thing then turned to Ted and asked him if he ever eaten a coyote?

A four-year olds thought process is still unencumbered with a world of facts, so he answered the things question without giving it any thought, “No. Don’t want to eat doggies.”

The things eyes glittered with mirth at Ted’s innocent response. It finally had discovered the elusive conduit it needed to go back to it’s planet…this small human named Ted. It would take time to totally control Ted, probably a lot of earth years.

That was okay with the thing because it’s lifespan was 1,000 Tomiad years-old. Earth years were just a drop in the bucket. In addition, the process would reveal human weaknesses, making it easier to invade Earth when it returned with a fleet of warships.

So the thing befriended Ted.

After Ted told his mom one day about his new friend on the TV, the thing warned him to keep their friendship a secret. She laughed it off and kissed her son. But that was the last time Ted told anyone about the thing.

In fifth grade Ted brought his class assignments home. He would turn on the TV while doing his homework and the thing helped him. His mother would chide him about having the TV on when he was supposed to be studying, but didn’t make an issue out of it because he had great grades.

Ted was a straight A student that got scholarship offers from four major colleges when he graduated from high school. He chose the University of Los Angeles (UCLA) and entered the Henry Samueli School of Engineering and Applied Science.

The program was listed among the 10 most prestigious Engineering Schools in the nation. It was an honor to be accepted.

Throughout this time Ted stayed in daily contact with the thing. The thing only appeared when Ted was alone in the room. The thing was pleased with Ted’s progress and felt closer every day to accomplishing it’s mission.

But the thing didn’t count on the human brain’s ability to expose danger in any situation. It had no idea how complex humans really were. It assumed Ted was an easy mark. What it didn’t know was that Ted had been suspicious of it for a long time.

By the time he entered first grade he knew his relationship with the thing in the TV was odd. He suspected something wasn’t right when no one else he knew ever spoke of seeing a thing on their TV’s. And he didn’t want to be laughed at.

Ted was always a clever kid with a boundless imagination. He spent his life trying to figure out what to do about his situation. On one hand, the thing taught him a lot and was always a good listener. On the other, he knew the relationship wasn’t natural.

Eighteen months after graduated with honors, Ted was given a million dollar grant to pursue his studies on Artificial Intelligence.

Using a process that transformed the artificial intelligence field, Ted discovered an effective drug combination that optimized the eradication of roundworms, and common agricultural parasites that infect livestock.

Unknown to anyone, including his assistants, Ted was pursuing another agenda. How to get rid of the thing. He suspected for a long time it wasn’t telling him everything. He was sure it wasn’t a guardian angel. It was too damn ugly.

Ted developed a software program capable of intelligent behavior. He named it XZAR. One day he decided it was ready for the real thing. After installing XZAR in his flat screen TV, Ted turned on the evening news.

Five minutes into the broadcast, the thing appeared in the top right corner.

“Will you help me go home now that your research has taken you this far?” the thing asked, unaware that wily j. coyote was sneaking up on it.

As It Stands, TV sets are always good science fiction material.

The Drunken StormTroopers Punishment

lehmann-joerg-bacchus-roman-god-of-wine-painted-wooden-figure1 Headquarters for the 37th Solar Stormtroopers, Circa 4588, Mercury

“You stand accused of Section 2115 – Drunk on Duty, Private Bar12 Bacc. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I hope I have a good lawyer!”

The three judge jury looked down at the squat, ungainly, figure of Private Bar12 Bacc and simultaneously wondered how he ever got into the Solar Stormtroopers. His slovenly appearance was an affront to the fleet.

He was short, even by Mercurian standards. Bar12 wasn’t recruiting poster material in anyone’s army. He enjoyed playing pranks, drinking, telling jokes, and chasing females. His ability to down great quanties of liquor made from Neptunian grapes, was legendary throughout the fleet.

So how did a slob like Bar12 Bacc get into the Imperial Star Fleet? The answer was stunningly unimpressive; his wealthy parents bribed the Supreme Commander to take their wayward son into military service for 20 years.

It was only a year into the arrangement when Bar12 was busted for drinking on duty. He was lectured, fined, and told to never do it again. The said that the second time too. And the third.

Now, as the jury of three looked at him they were faced with a tough decision, the penalty for defying the rules was death. But when the star fleet lawyer told them they couldn’t kill Bar12 because the Supreme Commander said so, they sought a creative way out of the situation.

Bar12 had to be made an example of. Military disipline demanded it. It took the judges three days to come up with a solution. They would exile Bar12 for life to another planet in the solar system.

They picked earth at the time mankind was beginning to emerge from mud huts to building great mounds. The primitive planet would be a safe place to send him. When the verdict was given to Bar12 he blinked stupidly.

He was allowed to bring a small memento with him to his new home. After the spacecraft dropped him off in a country called Italy, he pulled out his momento. A dozen seeds from his favorite Neptunian vineyards.

He quickly planted them in Bordeaux, Burgundy and Alsace. His new earth name was Bacchus, and his vineyards soon become the stuff of legends. So did he. His ability to drink any wine and party hearty was seen as a good thing among his Roman followers.

At some point in time they called him a god.

To underscore the influence of Bar12’s amazing evolutionary leap in wine making, the techniques used to make the earliest Neptunian/Languedoc wine in the first century A.D. did not change until the 1970’s.

As It Stands, this is my myth about the creation of Bacchus, the God Of Wine.

How a Bounty Hunter Saved America

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Prologue – 2022 in Earth’s Timeline.

An Inter-Galactic Wanted Poster was displayed in two Solar Systems:

Rogue Scientist, Dr. Ki, wanted for stealing secret technology from two planets. Shoot upon contact! Proof of kill needed for reward.

2099 – Earth.

“There is no beginning and there is no end. Just the here and now.”

“How’s that sound X-249? Can you help me out with this new app message? the Director asked, already knowing the answer.

X-249, his personal robot, sat down behind a computer and went to work right away. From a distance, and if you had some sight problems, X-249 looked like a human. A silver human.

“It shouldn’t take me too long to build the construct you request Director.”

The new app was an immediate hit. They always were. It worked seamlessly with people’s personal mobile communication device implants. The Director and his political staff made sure everyone had one, and that they regularly downloaded the Director’s messages.

If they didn’t, they’d be subject to a government fine resulting in five years in solitary, on the third of the sixty-two moons of Saturn.

Americans needed to be programed once a week. The Director’s apps provided them with inspirational messages while they awaited his commands. It was just one in a variety of ways he used to control the country.

There wasn’t any need for brute force since the last rebellion in 2093. That’s when the Director employed killer Cyborgs that butchered the rebel forces. Resistance faded away. The dream of justice and freedom was turned into a nightmare again.

Despite that, every decade or two, men and women gathered secretly to oppose the draconian laws imposed by the Director. The constitution was a sacred book that gave them hope. They kept their history alive by orally sharing it with each generation.

People no longer spoke aloud. Instead they used sign language to communicate. Americans had lost their voices. Talking meant they could be recorded and subjected to some obscure law resulting in punishment.

For generations baby’s were shushed and taught basic sign language. It was the one thing about the people the Director didn’t know about. He thought they were born mute, for whatever obscure reason.

A simple blinking-eye Morris Code was also taught at an early age. The fires of resistance were hardwired into their collective DNA. Everyone looked forward to the day when they would be free.

When it happened, it was anti-climatic. No one got a message from the Director one day. Then the next. A week went by and no messages, or demands! It took a month for someone to finally find the Director’s body, sans head, in his secret headquarters.

Directly above the headless Director was a shiny photo showing a gray alien holding the Director’s head in one hand, an exotic sword in the other, and a wanted poster in his third hand.

As It Stands, a bounty-hunter saving America is the kind of irony that tickles my muse.

Special Holiday Price: Intergalactic Space Tour

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Prologue:

Every planet in Earth’s solar system fought the scourge of space pirates for hundreds of years before the Treaty of 2137 ended the hostilities.

Earth – Intergalactic Space Port 2237

Special Holiday Tour:

Last call for Andromeda – Departing at 16:00

Regularly Scheduled Tours:

Black Eye Galaxy – Departing 17:00

Cartwheel Galaxy – Departing 19:30

Cigar Galaxy – Departing at 20:25

On Board the Atlas 4000 Space Cruiser To Andromeda:

“I hope you’re enjoying the trip Ladies and Gentlemen. Fun fact; Andromeda is the closest big galaxy to the Milky Way! How about that?” the ship’s captain asked via intercom.

Two-hundred passengers made an affirmative buzz.

“Not so fun fact: Andromeda is expected to collide with the Milky Way about four billion years from now. They’ll merge into a single new galaxy we’re calling Milkomeda. Enjoy your trip, and thanks for flying with American Intergalactic Connections!”

1st Passenger – “This new Atlas 4000 model is a real improvement over those MF-900 Cruisers which have been the backbone of the fleet for 20 years.”

2nd Passenger – “This is my first time in space. I’m a little nervous.”

1st Passenger – “Not to worry. I’m an ex-space pilot, and I can assure you space travel is safer than driving the freeways in California.”

2nd Passenger – “I’m glad to hear that. I wonder if the stories I’ve heard about space pirates are true? Could we be attacked?”

1st Passenger – “Again, not to worry. There hasn’t been any space pirates in over 100 years since the Treaty of 2137.”

2nd Passenger – “Funny, I never heard of that treaty. Then there were space pirates? I couldn’t find a thing about them in the World Main Frame. If it wasn’t for my best friend’s father, I would have never heard of them. He was a pilot too.”

1st Passenger – “Well, it’s just not the kind of information the company wants to share with potential customers. Why bring up the distant past? You’re in a state-of-the-art cruiser with every convenience, and you’re going to see things you never dreamed of.”

2nd Passenger – “You’re right. Can I order a drink for you?”

1st Passenger – In a low voice, “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m on duty. I’m a security guard for American Intergalactic Connections.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We’re going to make a temporary stop at Alphas Tendir to switch our new warp drives over in the dock. For safety reasons we’re asking you to de-board once we land, and to wait in the lounge area provided for you. It won’t take long.”

2nd Passenger – “Hey, what’s going on? There’s no scheduled layovers on the trip ticket?”

1st Passenger – “Sorry about that. You’re a nice guy. The least I can do is explain everything after we get off the ship.”

When the 200 puzzled passengers were being led to the lounge area the 1st Passenger stopped, and pulled the 2nd Passenger out of the line.

“It’s like this. We lost the war against the space pirates. That’s why every year we have to pay a tribute of 200 inhabitants from each planet as slaves. Whatever you do, don’t look them in the eyes. It really pisses them off!”

As It Stands, throughout recorded history conquerors have demanded slaves for tribute.

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