Previous
Chapter?
Index
Next
Chapter
Chapter 0.A
[I’d] Rather Be Anywhere Else
Nested between the eroded roads and barren sandhills of an arid wasteland, there was an old gas station with a neon sign that still flickered. Simply left to rot until whoever or whatever decided to reclaim it, whether that be a band of nomads or possibly plant life—if that was still possible on Calmede.
But until then, its carcass is picked apart by two space wanderers—Aliens they’re usually called—who have found themselves stranded after having packed a bit too lightly… and their camper van getting T-boned by a stray comet.
Free,
the self-proclaimed “Self-made Machine.” A robot made of red hard light with straight horns, a thin square-tipped tail, and a large singular eye. He wore a jacket decorated with button pins.
Frost,
no title self-proclaimed. A semi-organic humanoid machine with a deer skull for a head and asymmetrical antler-like horns. Although eyeless, within their shadowed sockets were silver-blue pupils of hearth fire. They were clothed in an insulated jacket and had a knife holstered on their leg.
Purple-tinted golden rays of light shined unto Free, the broken glass reflecting and illuminating the room with dusk light. He was hunched over a severely dented and weathered safe, its paint replaced with a thousand layers of sand and dust.
“Come on big money no—!” Free shouted as he cracked open the safe with just his bare hands—one holding a stray piece of scrap which acted as a chisel and the other hand transformed into a hammer.
Dust from the safe exploded into a smoke screen that would have suffocated a creature with a normal respiratory system, thankfully Free was not one of them.
Unfortunately, he did have an exposed and sensitive ocular system.
He was blinded briefly, his eye shining redder than it should, but once the smoke cleared the fruits of his labor were revealed. Hundreds upon hundreds of paper notes scattered across the floor, each with faded portraits of important people from a bygone era on them.
“Whammies…” sadly, they were effectively worthless to an Alien like him.
Wiping off crimson red tears, he investigated the safe further, looking for valuable materials or at least something of interest—finding that packed within its corner was a pristine set of pins within a clear glass box and a blank plastic square. He groaned while pocketing the pin box, looking over his shoulder lackadaisically at a pile of rubble in the center of the establishment.
“Yo Frost, how's your search going, find anythin’ good?” Free said, walking out of the back room with his hands in his pockets. The retail-rubble rumbled as he got closer, a pale blue emitting from its cracks.
Out of it emerged Frost, their horns snagging plastic bags and soda rings, they then spoke, their voice gravely and cold, “I have not.” They swiped the debris off themself while Free picked off what Frost could not reach. “Break?” they asked.
“Eh, sure, why not,” Free patted dust off his clothes and sighed in frustration, “Not like we got anywhere to go anyhow.”
They exited the building and walked over to the Camper—their ride, living space, Free’s source of frustration, and Frost’s pride and joy. Free slouched onto its side with his arms crossed while Frost took refuge under the gas station’s sign, sitting on an empty box and looking eastward towards the soon-to-be night sky.
“All we need is just a handful of wires and a bit of fuel,” Free said.
“Mm-hmm,” Frost produced a hunting knife from their jacket, eyes still fixated on the horizon.
“Didn’t expect this place to have decent scrap.” Free lowered down onto the desert floor, “But a gas station without gas? Now that’s dumb, maybe we’ll have to dig for it.”
“Indeed,” Frost sharpened their knife, still staring into the horizon right out of Free’s view.
For a few quiet minutes, Free was enchanted by the silence of the desert and the light from the falling sun that bathed him in its gentle light. The situation the two were in was dire to say the least, and this planet was much worse than others they had visited. But at least they weren't in immediate danger.
Free closed his eye to give it a moment’s rest—then Frost broke the silence.
“Instead of digging, or hoping the next station has what we seek, we could go over there,” Frost put away their knife.
“Where?” Free cracked his eye open, seeing Frost pointing eastward. Frost did not answer, so he asked again, but still received no response, having to get up to see what they were talking about.
From what they had seen so far, Free expected some nomads or maybe a bunker full of goodies hidden right beneath the dunes… What he saw instead was a half-rotted skyscraper with three shining emerald rings looming above it and a massive pillar of green light blasting from its center—piercing right through each ring and splitting the sky in twain.
Free squinted, looking back at Frost—who was trying to hide a slight smirk—then at the pillar of light then back at Frost again.
“No, nope, naw, nada,” Free shook his head, “That right there is the definition of planetary baggage!”
“Baggage, at times, has something useful within,” Frost said. “Food and water, medical supplies, insight into this world’s past…” Free looked at them annoyed but Frost continued, “...solid fuel, electronic parts, or RM technologies. I could go on.”
For a moment Frost had captured Free’s interest, his look of doubt slowly shifting into curiosity that quickly faded, “You do drive a hard bargain, but no, even if it had the Thing.”
“The Thing? I am not quite sure what you are talking about, please elaborate.”
“You know what I am talkin’ about.”
“I do not know.”
“Not sayin’ it.”
“What could ‘it’ be, I wonder? There are various things to be found within that construction, even beyond what I have listed before. Faded paintings, moldy paper, broken glass, ancient weapons, treasure troves, dark machinati—”
“Still not sayin’ it—let’s get goin’ already,” Free opened the Camper’s hood, “Just let me tape up a few things before you start drivin’ this deathtrap again.”
“Understood.”
Previous
Chapter
Index
Next
Chapter
© B.N.Hendricks, 2019-2025. All rights reserved.