A FIGMENT OF SOMEONE ELSE'S IMAGINATION
Standard Sol Years: Where�s the ON button?
Captain John Denmark scrambled across the rocky hillside, muttering obscenities at the world in general. Occasionally he shouted out, �Damn you, Rock!� Exactly which rock he was referring to on the boulder-strewn hillside was anyone�s guess. He paused to wipe away the sweat that was gushing out of his forehead like a flooding river. He looked around himself; as far as the eye could see were rocks. Rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Looking for a needle in a haystack was child�s play compared to what he was trying to do.
This whole mess had started, like usual, when he came up with a plan. They were always perfect in concept but for some unknown divine reason, destined to fail in spectacular ways. He had decided to expand his business. Private transport was all well and good, but combined with other endeavours his profit margin could soar.
His first step was to expand with trade. Buying an item from planet A and selling it to planet B with a ridiculously high mark-up rate. With the help of his granite science officer and information from both the Statistics of Big Brother (SOBB report) and the Galactic Stock Exchange, he could see who was the most ripe for exploiting. All the while, delivering passengers to their destinations with his usual lax attitude.
An out of the way and unremarkable planet, aptly named �Don�t Go There�, was the perfect starting point. The inhabitants were metaphysical and as such, only existed if they felt like it. Years of planet-to-planet salesmen had made them xenophobic, ruining it for the slightly more honest businessmen. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who�s point of you, they also were the only race in the universe able to make metaphysical items; items so powerful that they can be shaped by the owner�s mind into whatever he or she could want. To get his hands on some of those items would secure his place in the trading business and the top 100 Eligible Bachelors List.
Rock was adamant that he could bargain with them. They sent him down to the surface and were given a time to pick him up. He neglected to inform them that his pick-up point was covered in incredibly similar rocks, and used the opportunity to make himself scarce. That conniving inorganic ingrate had been trying to do that since the day he had first signed his contract.
Denmark was going to be damned if he would let an inanimate object cheat him of his fortune� again. So he too went down to the surface, to find Rock and put him on the right course. He fingered his Khaser in its holster thoughtfully as he paused to survey the uninspiring view.
This world was as weird as a hairy alligator. They sky was a rotten brown and although there wasn�t a cloud anywhere to be seen, there was something about the air that suggested rain. The air was stagnant and rank like a skunk having a pungency problem. There wasn�t a life form to be seen whatsoever, which was disturbing. In order for there to be the right amount of oxygen, some type of photosynthesis was needed.
A scuttering sound to his left drew his attention. It was coming from behind a rise. He walked over cautiously and peered over. A steep slope dropped away suddenly just beyond the rise, and at the bottom was a creature. This was no ordinary creature though; for one thing, it seemed to be back to front. Its anus was where its head should have been and its head was trailing painfully along the ground. It had arms where its legs should have been, making it do a perpetual handstand, and legs where its arms should have been. It was the most ridiculous and impractical creature he had seen in weeks.
It somehow managed to see him, even though its eyes were pointing in the wrong direction, and started to hop away. Banging its head against the ground with every movement. Denmark shouted and started to run down the slope to catch up to it. On his first step, he landed on a loose stone and toppled. He rolled down the slope like a fat man in a port-a-loo, to come to an agonising rest at the bottom. Blood oozed from a few dozen cuts all over his body and his head throbbed like someone was beating on it with a hammer; he wasn�t even going to look at his clothes.
He slowly staggered to his feet and swayed dizzily. It was then, that the land-sliding hillside caught up to him. As he lay in the dirt, with his head throbbing like two over-sized hammers were pounding on it, he realised that he couldn�t feel his legs. He wasn�t surprised; he never was when bad things happened to him.
The creature hopped back into sight and cautiously approached him. It came to within a metre and put its back to him, so it could see him properly. It let out a series of high-pitched squeaks, which made an extra hammer join the fray on his head. It extended a leg and grasped the few remaining shreds of his shirt. The foot was surprisingly strong and dexterous. It gave a few tentative tugs.
With a shock he realised what it was about to do and let out a gasp of protestation while shaking his head vigorously. It went ahead with the yank. Denmark remembered letting out a scream of pain and then all was blackness.
He woke up and all he could see was black. He was alive but he wasn�t sure that was a good thing. Strong bindings held him to something and he couldn't fell any pain. Once again he wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing.
HELLO CAPTAIN
Denmark struggled futilely to escape. That voice was the last thing he wanted to hear. It came from nowhere and everywhere at once, and was deeper than a gorilla�s singing voice. It was the voice of a rock. He should have guessed that Rock would be the mastermind of his misery.
�Release me, Rock. This is a serious breach of your contract.� He was trying hard not to lose his temper. He tried to remember the helpful words from the book �Sooth Your Temper, You Grumpy Freak.� Then he remembered that they weren�t helpful. Those self-help authors put even him to shame as con men.
I HAVE TRANSCENDED MORTAL WORRIES. I AM NOW OFFICAILLY A GOD.
�Modest, too.�
THE ENTIRE WORLD IS METAPHYSICAL, NOT JUST THE INHABITANTS. MY MENTAL POWERS ALLOW ME TO SHAPE THE WORLD AFTER MY OWN IMAGE. THE NATIVES WORSHIP ME
�That may be so but you�re required by law to oblige your contract. You must return to the ship with me or be subject to the harsh legal fees and waste of time of the Judicial Legal Council,� Denmark intoned wearily. He knew his words weren�t going to make any difference, but there wasn�t anything else to do.
I HAVE THE CHANCE TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE. THE NATIVES CAN SHAPE THEMSELVES INTO WHATEVER THEY WANT, THEY JUST DON'T KNOW IT. I CAN TEACH THEM TO STOP BEING ANAL RETENTIVE. I CAN FATHER A CIVILISATION.
"True. True." He sounded like a frog. He seriously needed a glass of water. It made him think about just how long he had been on the planet. He decided that it was better not to think about it. I�LL TELL YOU WHAT, CAPTAIN
Denmark flinched. This wasn�t going to be good.
THEY HAVE METAPHYSICAL WEAPONS HERE. THOUSANDS OF THEM. YOU CAN HAVE THEM ALL, FOR JUST CANCELLING MY CONTRACT AND LEAVING ME HERE
Denmark�s jaw dropped. �What�s the catch?�
Rock emitted a chuckle that sounded more like a bear crying. NOTHING, CAPTAIN. EVEN YOU, WITH YOUR PREDESTINED FATE TO FAIL, COULD MAKE A TIDY PROFIT FROM THOSE.
He felt tears come to his eyes. He had sort of succeeded. For once in his life he had sort of succeeded. Perhaps this was an omen of things to come� Then, he remembered something.. �How do I know I can trust you?�
YOU CAN�T
�WHAT!!! ROCK I�LL KILL YOU!!�
�You find Rock, Boss?� A raspy voice said. His blindfold was yanked off, to reveal the bridge on the ship. Crobol was standing above him, idly scratching his head. �I was nearly worried. You were gone weeks. You had disappeared and now you just appear out of nowhere. What�s going on?�
Denmark was impressed. For a Testerian to admit that he was nearly worried was something indeed. He just shook his head bewilderedly and then grabbed onto Crobol�s arm to pull himself up. �Computer?� He asked.
�Yes?� It replied dully from an overhead speaker.
�Has any cargo just materialised anywhere on the ship?� He asked despairingly. He knew there wouldn�t be, but he had to ask. It was a matter of principle.
�Just a minute ago. It appears to be weapons. I would have told you sooner but... I couldn't be bothered.�
Denmark�s legs collapsed underneath him. He staggered, fell, and hit his head against a counter. His concussion lasted for days. There is no such thing as a completely happy ending in the world of business.