Just another night

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But what if the vacuum of space itself were somebody? What if space itself was nothing more than one colossal entity? What if we were the germs of a reality larger than anything our mortal minds can comprehend? Ray pondered as he took another deep pull from his tankard of Sicatolith “hive nectar”; a very popular sweet and intoxicating drink in this sector.

Ray had stopped by Elirun-5 to fuel his ship and to lounge around for a night or two. The local pub area quickly became his favorite haunt along with his travel-partner Jabin; a Summer-born Quicaldatus. Ray never went anywhere without wearing his once military-issued breastplate and blaster. During the years outside of military service, he began to add some personal modifications to it; Most noticeably a custom bandolier. Ever stuck in the fashion of past eras, he regularly wore a casual t-shirt and denim jeans. A pair of armored boots with shin guards and leather chaps completed his ensemble. Jabin in contrast preferred his race’s flesh-warp attire, a type of living organism that mutated around its host to form clothing and armor that best suits the wearer. This particular organic outfit was reminiscent of a Haori and Hakama with segments being a clearly defined carapace.

“Ray, I think you’ve had one too many of those; you’re brooding again.” The summer-born Quicaldatus next to him said, occasionally looking around the interstellar pub as he tied his brown hair into a ponytail.

“Wait...What? No way! I think I just had an epiphany, Jabin.” the roguishly handsome human replied as he stroked his soul patch and admiring one of the more feminine shaped xenos.

“Uh-oh…Here we go again.” Jabin teased as he took a sip of his flame-out; another alien drink that’s both sweet and spicy and appreciated by most humanoids. His long elf-like ears were gently twitching in anticipation as the middle-aged war vet prepared to go into some long-winded philosophical tirade about some off-the-wall topic that the human’s booze-addled mind can only create.

“So you know how your race’s morphology varies depending on the season you were born?”

“Yes…” Jabin replied, curious to see the direction this conversation was going.

“Okay, so all Quicaldatus are elf-like humanoids with a long, whip-like, prehensile tails. Summer-born Quicaldatus like you, only have eyebrows and head hair; rarely facial hair. Autumn and Spring-born have short, soft almost cat-like fur and Winter-born have lots of fur like a Husky…” Ray started.

“Can you get to the point?” Jabin asked, taking another sip of his drink. His soft, hazel eyes stiffened in annoyance.

“What if space was a massive, ever-shifting being that changed its morphology with seasons that only it can experience? And what if we are just germs that periodically gets purged during the stages of its life?” Ray asked as his eyes began to glaze over. The Quicaldatus stared at his short-haired friend, feeling as though the conversation itself caused his IQ to drop exponentially.

“…And This is why we don’t like you drinking alien liquor. You get all kinds of weird and bizarre-”

“Or maybe…” Ray countered, “…alien booze is opening up my mind to alternative and new possibilities!”

Jabin smacked himself in the face and used his tail to slowly pull away Ray’s drink from his reach.

“Seriously my friend, stick to human booze.” Ray snorted and crossed his arms childishly as he leaned back into his seat; his leather chaps squeaking against it pleasantly as he did so. with a sigh, he gazed up into the starry void. Jabin looked to his friend and sighed somberly.

“Look…Ray…I know you have gone through plenty of hardships…but becoming an alcoholic is only prolonging the inevitable. You’re going to have to find a healthy way passed it.” he offered with concern lacing his words.

“Don’t go pulling that psychology crap on me! You have a Haram of hot alien girls on your team! two Quicaldatus; one Autumn-born and another Summer-born, an Albatwitch, two humans; one being an adorable albino, and to top it all off…you somehow managed to woo a Kyshyyic Brood Lord after besting her at hand-to-hand combat. Me, on the other hand, was abducted by an alien grey and trapped in suspended animation for 95 years of my life! And that was right after helping win a victory during the first contact wars.” Ray spat as a pain deeper than petty jealousy started gnawing at his chest.

“Hey! It’s not like I did it on purpose! How was I to know it was a custom in Kyshyyic culture that by sparing one after beating them would result in me having them bound to me! And as for the other girls, I really have no interest in them aside from maybe Jenna.” the Quicaldatus argued.

“And that’s just it! You’re not even trying!” Ray exclaimed, drawing some attention from the other patrons.

“S-sorry!” Jabin apologized on Ray’s behalf.

“Ray! Calm down!” He whispered harshly. With a sigh, Ray slouched forward heavily onto the table.

“Well, what about Twilahnna?” Jabin asked firmly. Ray turned his head to Jabin with eyes aflame and hatred.

“Oh, the crazy grey bio-engineer that spliced and modified itself so much that it’s now a willowy, crazy-chick with three tentacle whips and digitigrade legs? The same being that abducted me in the first place and put me in the aforementioned stasis; whose cunning, beauty, and self-inflicted nymphomania has led her to become the most powerful and wanted outlaw in alliance space? That Twilanna? No thank you.” Ray replied deflated.

“You say all those things, but I think you still like her.” Jabin replied, followed by another sip of his drink.

“Nope. That’s just the Stockholm syndrome.” Ray corrected.

Just then, one of the pub workers turned on a vid-screen to an interstellar news channel:

“Earlier today the twin sisters belonging to the Fairbrook Royal Family have gone missing. Some have speculated that this is the work of the terrorist organization known as the Yigg’Xouwin Star-Scourged, who reportedly had questionable ties with the Fairbrook Royal Family. A reward of 140,000 credits will be given to anyone able to find them and to bring them home safely.” the anchorwoman reported, sending the pub into a frenzy of chatter. Ray’s ambition grew evident on his scruffy face.

“Ray…don’t tell me you’re going to go after them.” Jabin cautioned.

“You bet your tail I am! This is the sort of chance I've been waiting for! If I’m successful, I’ll be a hero! I’ll be a somebody again…” he resolved; his eyes now ablaze with determination.