S.P.E. 04 – Dudes in the Hole!: Space Post Express, #4

By Pier Maria Colombo

It was just a normal delivery for the Space Post Express dudes, Tod and Phil. Nothing special about delivering a tiny, unassuming parcel to the other side of the galaxy. And best of all, on the way back, they had a reservation for Lando's, the best hot dog and hamburger joint in the galaxy, with a waiting list in the dozens of months.

Of course, pirates attempted to rob them, and they ended up stranded (again). Though, this time, it was in a ship graveyard orbiting a strange and unconventional black hole—or could it be a wormhole? With their ship unresponsive, and no choice but to explore the derelict ships for parts, the dudes face yet more challenges; the first and most important being lack of snacks. Oh, and there's a monster aboard the abandoned shipwreck with them. And Phil jinxed it, so it attacked them.

Will the dudes manage to escape this predicament, or will their turquoise ship be added to the other wrecks?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: Jun 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227903006

Book preview

Pier Maria

Colombo

S.P.E. 04

Dudes in the Hole!

Space robbery

Prepare to die, worm, Tod shouted, his aggression leaking into his voice.

Not if I destroy you first, Phil shouted back.

Tod, angry, threw himself against Phil, attacking with everything he had equipped. He used his laser gun and when it was out, he used the plasma rifle. But Phil knew what he was doing. He dodged out of the way, got behind cover, and as Tod reloaded his plasma rifle, Phil threw a flashbang grenade that had to be against a number of interplanetary treaties, damaging Tod’s ocular nerves in the process. Then, with just a shot, Tod was dead.

Man, this game sucks, Tod exclaimed, leaning back in his chair.

Nah, it’s cool, Phil said, a smile on his face. You’re just a sore loser.

Why can’t we play a more complex game? Tod said. My reflexes aren’t what they used to be, not after... the incident.

That sounds more like a skill issue, Phil said. You won’t get any sympathy from me with mysterious proclamations. We spend almost every day of our lives together. There’s no incident. You’re just getting old.

No, I’m not, Tod shouted. He sat up in his chair, looking at the terminal screen as it flashed with the scoreboard. Phil had won every single match. Let’s boot up something with more strategy and you’ll see.

This is the only thing the on-board computer could run without overloading its processing units, Phil shot back. There’s no chance we can get a hyper-time strategy to run. Better stick with simple sim-shooters.

My head hurts, Tod muttered, rubbing his temples. Too much bright light.

Yeah, they banned this game in half the galaxy, Phil said. They said it caused epileptic episodes in twenty different species, with permanent brain damage. I say, get good.

I think you’ve already gotten so brain damaged, you simply don’t have the neurons for epilepsy, Tod said. He shut off the game. Now what? I’m bored. He stood and stretched. Phil mimicked him, standing up from his console near the front of the cockpit.

They were in one of the standard SPE space shuttles. There was almost nothing visible outside their ship, as they were in warp on that moment. The back was mostly empty, too. Tod paced back and towards the storage area of their shuttle.

The front of the shuttle was the cockpit, small and cramped. It usually had four stations, though this deep into their trip, one of them had long ago been converted into a garbage dumping pile. Phil was stretching next to his pilot’s station, while Tod was heading away from his engineer’s station. Obviously, flying undermanned as they always were, Tod was also the communications officer, the hyperspace engineer, he drew up their course through known space—he did everything the blockhead pilot couldn’t do, which was quite a lot.

Phil was great at piloting—and not much else. As Tod entered the storage compartment, he sighed. To be fair, Phil could also make a mean pizza.

The storage compartment was comically empty. It was a sizable chamber, which usually was choke-full of packages that had to be delivered around the galaxy, with strap loops on the walls, floor, and ceiling, and the wide pressure doors at the far end. Right now, there was a single package inside it. It was sitting on the floor of the chamber, strapped down with four crisscrossing wide bands.

What do you think it is? Phil asked as he followed Tod into the storage area.

We’re not paid to think, Tod said. Let’s just get the package to wherever we’re supposed to go, alright?

Sure, whatever, Phil shrugged. But you’re not curious?

Do you remember what happened last time we were curious? Tod shot back.

No, Phil said.

Uh, I mean, Tod stammered, I don’t, either, specifically, it’s just a phrase. Let’s not push our luck with this, alright?

Alright, Phil nodded. But sending both of us to the other side of the galaxy to deliver a tiny little crate—

First, Tod interrupted him, "I said, let’s not push our luck. Second, they’re supposed to send both of us, dude. Didn’t you pay attention to the yearly orientation? We’re supposed to be working in four-people teams, they keep saying, to ‘minimize mistakes’ or whatever, but obviously, they’re not gonna hire more people, so it’s the bare minimum, just two couriers.

Third, he raised his hand then, three fingers up, it’s not on the other side of the galaxy, or we’d have already arrived. No, instead it’s over the murky Arin’s Nebula, so we need to go around it, which is why we’ve taken so long, and still have so long. Four, he raised another finger.

Uh, Tod stammered. What did I want to say—uh, yeah, he said forcefully. "Don’t push our luck. We’re not paid to be curious."

Sure dude, chill out, Phil shook his head. Man, you’re wound tight. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you were scared. He started walking towards the small box that was bound on the cabin’s floor.

I am scared, Tod said. Because you’re a walking catastrophe. Do you remember the ocean world? Zabri or something? Your damned curiosity got us in such a bind after you sniffed the planetary governor’s eggs, the Galactic Federation’s agents—

Don’t say that word, Phil sighed. I’ve told you, every time I think of agents, I remember—

Ugh, Tod groaned. I forgot about the taboo word. Please, don’t start telling me how much you’re missing your girlfriend, and how cool she is.

But she’s so cool, Phil whined. And I miss her so much. He knelt by the box. Tod felt a shiver of terror.

Get away from that, he said. Don’t do something stupid, if that’s physically possible for you. He extended his hand but didn’t want to approach, in case the stupid pilot did do something stupid. Better be as far away from the mysterious package as possible. Maybe they—whoever the people on the receiving end were—wouldn’t kill him if he was not directly involved.

I’m not doing something stupid, Phil said. He leaned down, looking at the box. It doesn’t say what it contains.

Haven’t you been working here for a couple of decades? Tod shot back. Of course it doesn’t say. When do packages clearly advertise their contents?

I once bought a pair of sexy underwear for my, uh, girlfriend at the time, Phil coughed, and the package clearly said what was inside. It even had a little picture.

Oh, yeah, Tod laughed. I remember.

Phil shot up, looking at Tod with narrowed eyes. What do you mean you remember?

That was me, dude, Tod said. I saw you ordering it, and intercepted the package. I paid the courier ten credits to allow me to put the label on. Best ten credits I’ve ever spent.

I’ll fucking kill you— Phil started, but a polite alarm came from the cockpit.

We’re dropping out of warp? Tod muttered as he turned to enter the cockpit. We’re not due to drop out of warp for a couple of days.