Space Outpost 039

“Alright lads, we’re almost there,” Jebediah’s voice sounded from the cockpit of the reclaimed transport vessel, “Space outpost 039 is in sight.”

Space outpost 039, pronounced o three niner by its inhabitants, had escaped the revolutionist’s grasp and was a safe haven for those fleeing the uprising. It is home to trade and services from all across the extent of man’s explorations in space, the reaches of man are typically called the Extent which is ever-expanding as new colonies are formed and planets are visited. Many colonies traveled to the outpost for food and fuel alike, so it was not strange to see a transport vessel with three humans aboard. They planned to dock aboard the outpost, refuel their vessel, then flee the blasted system to J-52 – another safe haven, far from the reign of the cyborgs.

Bzzzzzzt. The flight communications system sounded, as its blips and bobbles bubbled into existence. “Unidentified transport vessel . . . state your intentions,” the radio demanded over its scratchy static.

“Where’s that comin’ from? How’d they know we’re here?” “It’s a big detection field ya dingus, they must be hidden in that belt up ahead, now shuddup!”

Jebediah picked up the receiver and “jovially” responded, “Greetings Outpost 039, we have voyaged here to refuel and restock for our long flight ahead, if you would grant us permission to dock within your shuttle bay.”

“Where have you . . . come from,” the voice demanded over the radio.

“We’re from colony E-5, but we have been sent to transport supplies to E-9.”

“E-5 you say, your ship says oth…” “Let them . . . aboard,” a voice interrupted – a supposed commanding officer. “Alrighty then, head to docking bay 11, welcome to Space Outpost O Three Niner, enjoy your stay,” the first voice greeted them.

“That voice sounds suspiciously familiar, doesn’t it?” Isaiah stated as the radio shut down.

“Must be a technical difficulty, a frequency breakage of some sorts. Haven’t you ever listened to a radio before?” Samuel sighed in disbelief, “Oh right you have, you’re just st-”

“You’re the one who scolded me for not recognizing cyborg footsteps, just saying.” Isaiah glared back. “And what about that whole E-5 nonsense?”

“Ah, long day at the job, all them tiny numbers look the same-”

“Quit your racket back there, boys, I’m trying to land this darned vessel!” The threats seeded in Jebediah’s voice froze the two into obedience.

As they approached the space outpost, shuttles came into sight, flying in and out of various docking bays and landing in different ports and on different pads. The outpost beamed with the light of a thousand stars, as various peoples from around the Extent docked and undocked from the outpost.

They swooped around the outpost, spotted docking bay 11, indicated by the big white numbers painted on its door, and started to move towards it. The dock doors slid open upon their approach. The docking bay looked, more or less, like nothing special; at the least, it was large enough for their spacecraft, which is why they were directed towards it. The white walls were adorned with sporadic ladders, gray beams ran along at regular intervals, and it had the typical automatic white sliding doors of all spacecraft.

Jebediah glided the ship into the docking bay; they landed right as the dock doors began to close. “Well, we finally escaped those blasted cyborgs, boys. Good work out there. For the most part…” Jebediah added, glancing slyly at Isaiah.

“Hey, what are ya looking at me for I single-handedly defeated the enemy forces… even if it was an accident.”

“Huh, single-handedly for sure,” Samuel rolled his eyes.

“Never mind it with your petty arguments, we need to refuel and resupply this vessel. If they find out we actually aren’t from E-5 we’re in trouble,” Jebediah scolded them. He began gathering up their supplies to trade for fuel and other commodities, leaving the other two standing at the control panel.

“Fine, but he will be staying here, so we won’t risk getting us caught up in a sticky situation,” Samuel jabbed his finger at Isaiah, emphasizing his point.

Jebediah glanced up from rearranging some items in his duffle bag, “Alright that’s fine, but we need to get going. Come on cousin.”

Jebediah led the way down the entrance ramp of the spaceship, followed by Samuel, and strolled out into the docking bay. The two cousins left the docking bay and began to mingle with the crowds in the market corridors that crammed every nook and cranny of Space Outpost 039. They wandered amongst the diverse peoples from afar in search of a, surprisingly hard to find, fuel supplier.

Soon after their departure from the docking bay, they spotted what they were searching for, a market stall somehow selling all the exact supplies they needed for their voyage. As they approached the market stall, an eloquent man with flowing robes streamed out of its entrance and strung himself around them, “Bonjour messieurs, and welcome to Fuel for Thought. Come inside, rest your feet, purchase our fuel, come relax with us. We have all the fuel you’ll ever want, desire, and need.” The merchant swept them inside and continued marketing his services in his fast-paced voice.

“Here, sit down, have some…” the merchant was cut off as Jebediah cleared his throat.

Samuel stepped on one of the cushions the merchant motioned to during his bloviating, loomed in over him, “We don’t need your tea.”

“Aie!”

“The only thing we’re here for is fuel and some supplies, such as food and water, to last us for the duration of our voyage,” Jebediah stated.

“Ah, I see, fuel and supplies you say. Oui, oui, I will get you that,” the merchant backed off, moving further into the stall, casting a fearful glance towards Samuel. “Where is your ship so we may transport the supplies to it?” the merchant asked in his hurried fashion, almost fully hidden behind the curtain to his inner chambers at that point.

“Our transport vessel is located in docking bay 11, please resupply it quickly for we must be on our way,” Samuel answered.

The merchant flicked the curtains, disappearing entirely from their view. Samuel lowered to the floor, sitting down on one of the cushions.

“Don’t sit down,” Jebediah reproached him, “We’ll be outta here soon enough.”

Tch. “You never know,” Samuel shrugged and pulled a clear tube out from a pocket in his clothes, sipping up a red liquid.

“I thought you didn’t want any o’ that tea?”

“I don’t, though I need this. Anyways, just sit down, that gunker’ll take forever to get back.”

“Ah, I fergot your one o’-”

As Jebediah and Samuel conversed and waited for the merchant to refuel their ship, the merchant slipped into the backroom of his market stall. He pushed through his ornate curtains and flicked on his comms system. Quickly, he dialed in a set of numbers. After a quick glance over his shoulder, to make sure no one was spying on him, the merchant hit “enter” on the dial pad.

“This is communications speaking, how may I help you?” a garbled voice sounded over the radio.

“Ah hello, I request to speak to your… commanding officer. I have rather… informative news,” the merchant responded with careful deliberation. His conniving grin spread from cheek to cheek as the receiver was transferred.

“This is . . . the . . . commanding officer. What . . . news . . . do you . . . have?”

The merchant grinned to himself as he recounted his dealings with Samuel and Jebediah to the commanding officer, over the comms system. “Now listen here, I will refuel and resupply their vessel, but just know that I expect due compensation along with the reward for capturing your fugitives,” the merchant’s voice echoed through the radio silence.