The Steemiverse: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Reader Ship Flying Wardrobe. Its mission: to seek quality content in the Stream of Steem. To curate unknown writers. To boldly upvote posts no man has upvoted before!
“Motherflagging nanofucker.” I look at Liam and curl my lip. “Are you trying to tell me they have nothing in the fridge except brains?”
“Rrrrlllllloooooooooorgh...” He shakes his head before slurping up some more brains.
“Yeah, I bet you don’t mind.” I lean back against the wall of the cargo bay and try to ignore the rumbling of my stomach. After a week, those brains will start to look more appetising. “More for you, huh?”
A buzzing sound echoes through the cargo bay as the outer doors to the airlock grind open. The blue glow of a tractor beam lit up the cargo bay through the airlock windows. What were they pulling in? When the light vanished and the outer doors started to slide shut, I hightailed it to the airlock window to have a look but I was about halfway there when Liam softly growled a warning.
The door to the inside of the ship zipped open, bathing the cargo bay in yellow light. I turned and dove back behind the crates where Liam and I had piled up some blankets for ourselves.
Two figures stood in the light, standing there, looking like an earth cow at a train. One was a rather tallish, blueish looking fellow, with either very wriggly hair, or worms sticking out from his head. The other was short, and tilted his head this way and that, as if studying everything he saw.
A mechanical voice echoed through the bay, sounding seriously pissed off. “Well? Don’t just stand there. Open the flagging thing and get back to the bridge where I don’t have to talk.”
The blue guy slammed a big red button on the side of the airlock. Above it, a sign said: Are you sure? Really? Then hit the button again. He did, and the inner doors of the airlock slid open with a hiss. Inside the airlock stood a little escape pod.
Next to me, Liam suddenly grunted and I poked him with my elbow. “Ssshhh, goddamnit. They’ll hear us.”
“Ooorrlllaaarrgghhlll…” He started fidgeting.
Oh Cod, no. I shook my head. “Nonono. Hold it in, damnit. Don’t fart! Don’t you da--”
A loud “Bloooooooort” echoed through the cargo bay and Liam closed his eyes and sighed. The smell of rotten eggs clogged my nostrils and I gagged. The blue guy turned, sniffed, and ejaculated, “Oh, crikey. What was that?”
“Motherfl--” I roll my eyes, and stand up. At this point, discovery is unavoidable anyway. Besides, I’d face a lot more than these two to get away from that damn mut, not to mention that smell.
“Hiya.” I wave at the two, and the short guy tilts his head and looks at me without blinking. I step forward and stick out my right hand. “I’m Tiny.”
Short guy finally blinks and his features jump into a smile. “No, you’re not.”
“For Cod’s sake. I am.”
“Are not.”
“Am too.”
“Are not.” He shakes his head.
“Am too. My momma gave me that name.”
“What? Why?” He tilts his head the other way and his eyebrows rise as the smile disappears immediately. “It seems highly illogical.”
“Well, you shoulda seen my Momma. Next to her, I look Tiny.”
The blue guy--his head definitely has worms coming out of it--shakes my right hand. “G’day, Tiny. I’m Zombie.”
I nod, mesmerised by the worms. “That’s… original.”
The mechanical voice blares through the comm system again. “Darnit, guys. Open the damn pod and get your buts over here so I can type at the newbies.”
Zombie jumps up and runs to the pod. Meanwhile, the short guy stares at me for a few more seconds, and then he grabs my hand and shakes it, mimicing Zombie’s movements to the millimeter. “G’day, Tiny. I’m Seven O’ Data.” He blinks twice. “Crikey.” He blinks a third time, drops my hand, and abruptly turns and legs it over to the pod, where Zombie is already fiddling with the door.
“Hold it, guys. No way are you gonna get that seal unlocked.” I turn back and whistle. “Hey Lou! Get that furry butt over here and jimmy that lock.” I wink at Zombie. “Nobody knows their way around a lock like my friend Liam over there. He had tons of fun with the lock on your fridge.”
Zombie narrows his eyes at me. “So it was you who--”
“Rrrrrrrrwwaaaaaaaaallllghrrrr!” Liam walks past me and gives me a thumbs up before picking the pod’s lock with his claws. It pops and the two guys stick their heads in there to see who got themselves into enough trouble to eject into space like that.
Zombie is the first to speak. “Crikey. It’s…” He scratches his worms and they wriggle a little harder. “It’s…”
Seven O’Data tilts his head and blinks again. “It’s a petunia.”
To be continued
For more Steem Wars adventures from the crew of the RS Flying Wardrobe, tune into the blogs of @bex-dk as R2-BEX2, @thinknzombie as Zombie, @idenkcall as Seven O’Data, @damianjayclay as Jay, and @jonknight as Carnif Geb, AKA the petunia.
If you would like to read some of my work, feel free to have a look around on my off-Steem blog page by clicking the banner. My library there contains all of the pieces I’ve written since starting my blockchain adventure.
About the INKubator
As a writer, finding the right community–the right tribe–makes all the difference.
For me, that’s the INKubator. I’m one of the admins there, and I have to say I’ve never been more proud of something I helped build, than I am of the INKubator.
We help each other improve, lovingly drown each other’s drafts in red ink, and help each other brainstorm.
But we’re more than a writing club. We’re a family. We root for each other as we submit pieces for various publication venues.
We cheer and join in victory dances when a piece is accepted.
We support each other through the disappointment of the inevitable rejections.
We hang out, playing as hard as we work, and from the madness of our conversations, more stories are born.
As a community, we span the globe, with members from Asia, Australia, Europe and the US, so chances are there will be someone there if you should decide to drop in.
If we’re quiet, that’s because we’re writing.
If you love writing, we'd love to meet you!
