Will Save the Galaxy for Food by Yahtzee Croshaw

Author:Yahtzee Croshaw
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Dark Horse Comics
Published: 2016-12-06T16:00:00+00:00

The four of us were escorted from the ship and across the docking bay by the happy couple, who it seems also understood the importance of staying out of grabbing range. From what I could gather, this appeared to be a fairly standard take-them-to-our-leader scenario, but the process was slowed down considerably by Peter and Pippa greeting every single person we passed, on infuriatingly cheerful first-name terms.

Warden walked just ahead of me. She was looking all around, scrutinizing the details and no doubt finding ways to work them together into some scheme to completely ply me over.

I glanced back at the kids. Jemima walked head bowed, seemingly embarrassed with a dash of good old-fashioned fear, but Daniel, still gagged, seemed to have nothing but fascination for our surroundings.

We moved straight from the docking bay to an enormous area with ceilings as high as a cathedral, and it took me a moment to shake off my preconceptions of pirate stations and realize that it was intended to look very much like a spaceport concourse.

There were troughs with plastic plants. Benches. Clear signage indicating directions to the toilets and exits. The walls were lined with several levels of shops, although most of them were still under development. Darkened shop windows half obscured various arrangements of stepladders and protective plastic coverings. Most of them had a prominent sign out front, bearing the words Your Business Here in garish red lettering.

So that was one way it differed from Ritsuko spaceport, and the other was that it wasn’t lined with endless rows of out-of-work charter pilots trying to solicit work. The pilots were there, but they were happy. They swarmed about the place with purpose, chatting, laughing, working together to build this place as one, big, single-minded family. It was the kind of camaraderie I hadn’t seen since the pre-Quantunneling days. Somewhere beneath the endless buzzing fear that I was about to be crucified, I felt the stirrings of intrigue.

It seemed like we were being led toward a small cluster of people in one of the larger nexuses of the concourse, in the middle of a wide clearing that the pirate workers were steering clear of. I soon saw why: some filming was taking place. A young woman in a technician’s overalls similar to Pippa’s was carefully holding out a phone horizontally, framing a shot of the older man in front of her.

He looked familiar, but then, there was a sort of universal quality to his appearance. He wasn’t in overalls or flight gear, like pretty much everyone else, but a fatherly red-and-black checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A middle-aged paunch bloomed out from blue jeans, cinched unreasonably with a belt.

Either his full beard had turned prematurely white, or he had mastered that ruddy, twinkly eyed look that allows older men to inexhaustibly project a younger bearing. Up close, I realized that the area around him had not been vacated because of the filming. It was because he projected the kind of presence that filled a room.

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