Howdy! So today is something kinda cool. I recently discovered Rachael Ritchey and her Blog Battles through another awesome blogger. The way it goes is every week she posts a word and you have to write a prompt based on the word. See the link for all the rules, but the word of this week is Cosmic. Hope you enjoy!
Somewhere on a moon in a galaxy not so very far away…
The singular Captain Frankie Baum cat-napped in the armchair by the transport pad in the middle of his ship. He’d moored his ship on the moon two days ago after agreeing to pick up a cargo from the main planet. It had yet to arrive. If it didn’t come in the next eight hours, he was packing up and leaving. He was about to embark on a full-fledged snooze fest when the transporter alert beeped. Darn. His cargo was coming. Red lights flashed, warning him to stay clear of the pad. But a figure appeared instead of the nice box shaped cargo he was expecting. His gun was drawn in a second.
“Hey!” a feminine voice protested. “What are you pointing that at me for?”
“I was told I had a cargo. I don’t do life forms. What are you doing on my ship?”
“I’m the cargo!” she said. “Radar sent me up.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“He called you a cosmic Cheese head.”
“Sounds about like Radar,” Frankie holstered his gun. He took a look at his new cargo. She wore military style pants tucked into boots with a leather jacket. Her bright purple hair was pulled back and her eyes seemed just a little too big for her face.
“You can call me Fyrn,” she offered. Obviously that wasn’t her real name, but Frankie had never really dealt with honesty since getting into this business.
“Frankie,” he returned. “You have my coordinates?”
She handed him a piece of paper and he headed toward the cockpit, jumping over pieces of machinery on the way. She followed him, carefully avoiding the spliced wires and bits of displaced ship.
“Your ship is very, uh…”
“Ah, go ahead and say it. She’s a bit of a clunker. But Radar mentioned a nice sum with your contract, so I can finally get my darling fixed up,” Frankie plopped down in the pilot’s seat and began to punch the coordinates into the computer. Interesting. It led him to a planet just outside of the galactic police’s control. “So, uh, you’ve got a bit of a problem with the locals then?” he asked.
She tapped the oversized head of the little green and yellow figurine nestled among the controls sending it into a discombobulated frenzy. Radar had told her that the captain might act like an idiot most days of the week but he really wasn’t one. His past military history was why she had chosen him.
“A bit. You could even say they might be looking for me. I have some ideas that aren’t very popular with the current ruling body,” Fyrn said.
“Ah, you’re one of the royalists then?” he spun a few dials and the ship began to lift from the moon’s surface. He gestured with an elbow to the chair and accompanying set of controls next to him. “She’s technically built for two. You can play co-pilot ‘till we get where we’re going.”
Fyrn slid into the seat and chanced a glance at the pilot. He wore the dark blue pants and black boots of his former life as a paratrooper. He had cheery green suspenders over a grey shirt that declared the world was “shiny”.
“So what is it with you royalists? Aren’t satisfied with anything, are you?” he propped a boot up.
“We’re trying to restore the rightful rule to this galaxy and prevent destruction of…of…cosmic proportions!” her arms waved excitedly.
“You really like that word, don’t you? I’ll bite. What destruction that rivals interstellar quantities?”
“I…” Fyrn was rudely interrupted by a beep from the ship’s proximity alert. Frankie straightened.
“So how important is it that you avoid the authorities?”
“Terrific, ‘cause they’re coming up off the port bow.”
“Where can I hide?”
“I’m trying to go straight here. I don’t have many secret hatches.”
“Cosmic cheese head, I know! There’s a locker behind you that’s lined to block scanners.”
Fyrn ducked in as the police made contact through the video screen.
“Officers?” Frankie smiled disarmingly. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re searching for a highly dangerous and important fugitive. She was last traced transporting to coordinates in this area.”
“She? This end of the galaxy is pretty lonely for a girl.”
“She’s believed to be the leader of the royalists. We are commandeering your vessel to search it. Prepare to be boarded.” The communication was abruptly cut. Frankie slumped back into his chair. Of course the leader of the royalists had just waltzed onto his ship. After he’d just gotten onto the police’s better side too.
“Of all the spaceships on all the moons in all the galaxies, you just had to transport onto mine, didn’t you?” he muttered to himself. He jumped up. He’d seen the inside of the police cruisers. He’d better find a place for Fyrn to hide. “What are you getting yourself into, you cosmic cheese head?”