The Galaxy Bar and Rest Stop


A Morbian followed me through the portal; his long slippery tail left a trail of slime on the floor.  I had noticed him before
in the docking bay outside the orbiting Galaxy Bar and Rest Stop where I parked my own ship after popping out of the
mouth of the black hole.  His ship was a relic that appeared less worthy of space travel than my own dilapidated clunker.  

The bartender must have been human once - or at least a cross-breed of one.  His bald head floated in a bell jar of
luminous green fluid.  Green is a rare colour in that sector of the galaxy and it reminded me that I was only 30,000 light
years from home.  The rest of his body was composed mostly of various arms and appendages, both organic and
mechanical, that purred and squeaked as he poured drinks and mixed concoctions of dubious intoxicants.  He smiled
when he saw me approach and little bubbles rose up from his nose.

"Hey human!" he said in a voice muted from the fluid.  "We don't see too many of your kind way out here."

"There's a good reason for that," I grumbled and tossed my haversack onto the bar.  The bartender continued to grin.

"This may not be the classiest place in the universe," he admitted, "but it's convenient.  Right smack in the middle of the
galaxy."

"That's why I'm here," I said and slipped into the nearest barstool.  The Morbian that had followed me moved to the end
of the bar.  He sat in a puddle of his own sludge and stared at me with those small bulbous eyes.  It's very unusual to
see a Morbian alone; they usually travel in herds.  They look like mounds of dung with their brown wrinkled skin and
pudgy bellies and round bald craniums; and they smell even worse.  They don't wear any clothing or bother to cover
themselves in any way, preferring instead to insulate themselves with a thick coating of slick brown mucus.  I ignored him
and turned my back.  I needed a drink badly.

"What can I get for you?"  The bartended placed a pair of tentacled limbs on the bar and leaned closer.

"What have you got that I can drink?" I asked.

"For you, human, something special."  A robotic arm in dire need of an oil change reached under the bar and pulled out a
bottle.  A real glass bottle! I thought.  And all the way out here. I was in for a treat.  A small corrugated worm bobbed in
the amber fluid.  "I've been saving this for the next human that walked in here.  Real tequila!  Straight from the land of
Mexamerica!  You like tequila, human?"

"Call me John," I replied as he poured the fluid into a small metallic cup.  "And leave the bottle."

"Long journey?" the bartender asked.

"You could say that," I replied and shook my hat until clouds of dust puffed up from the brim.

"Proprietor!" the Morbian bellowed and slapped his fist on the bar.  "I demand you serve me now!"

The bartender's head bobbed in its fluid as he poured some sort of thick rancid smelling ale into a stein and handed it to
the Morbian.  I gathered the tequila bottle and the cup in one hand, my haversack in the other and moved to a table
farthest away from the bar.  I was in no mood for making small talk with the bartender.

I leaned back in the chair and sipped my drink.  The tequila had been diluted with some sort of neutral tasting liquid - not
water but something else designed to mask the strong taste of the liquor.  I didn't care.  It had been so long since I
tasted anything from home.  Spelunking the caverns of the asteroids orbiting the Galena 90 system had filled me with a
homesickness I didn't know I was capable of feeling.

It was only out of acute exhaustion that I bothered to travel via a wormhole.  There must be at least a thousand of them
tunneling through space.  It was easy to hitch a ride on one.  The sensation was not unlike the drop from the top of a
rollercoaster.  Just plunge your ship into a black hole that ends in your chosen destination and off you go.  The ride is
smooth, but rather boring.  The wormholes are devoid of any stars or comets or asteroids and are so vast it's impossible
to see the other travelers whizzing by.  But that's why I liked it.  I shut down my engines and cruised along in peace with
my hat down over my face and my boots, still caked with the debris from my last expedition, on the dashboard so I could
catch up on some much-needed sleep.

I scanned the room for Woomaz, a new partner that the company was sending me.  I was informed that he was Poddiq,
so he would be easy to spot in the crowd.  The Poddiqii are a species of sticky formless goo from Alpha Metori that can
change their shape at will.  I use the word "he" loosely when referring to Woomaz.  The Poddiqii display no distinguishing
features to discern them from male or female.  They reproduce by pulling off a blob of goo from their bodies when they
get too big and waiting until it sprouts eyes and begins to speak.  Sick.

The portal entrance glowed bright scarlet, a signal that another ship had docked and the passengers were heading inside
to refresh themselves on whatever concoctions it took to intoxicate them.  I spotted Woomaz immediately when he
entered the bar on the heels of a herd of Morbians.  He slithered along the floor like a puddle of purple mucus and I was
amazed the slime left behind by the Morbians didn't stick to his body.  

"Over here!" I called and waved my hat over my head.

Woomaz's yellow eyes flowed through his body like a pair of rotten eggs floating through jelly.  His body made squishing
sounds as he approached me, and I cringed.  He was even grosser than I had expected.

"John Wildish?"  His voice was a high pitched gurgle.

"Yes.  I guess you're Woomaz."  I inadvertently reached out to shake his hand before realizing he didn't have a hand to
shake.

"Sit down."  I pointed at the other chair and tried to hide my faux pas.

Woomaz flowed like a waterfall in reverse and settled in a pool on the chair.  I sat down and stared into his eyes, hoping
that I was looking in the general vicinity of his face.  I had no idea how I would use this creature in my excavations.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" he asked.

"A little," I admitted.  "When I was a kid I used to eat stuff that looked like you for dessert."

"Your appearance is strange to me," he replied.  "But if it will make you feel better, I will try to make my appearance more
appealing."

His body churned and undulated; a portion of it stretched upward into a makeshift neck.  A head formed on top of it, but
there were no discernable features, just the eyes that continued to stare at me.  Eventually the body formed into a vague
humanoid shape with two limbs under the shoulders and presumably some legs - possibly quite a few - below the table.

"Better?" he asked.

"A little," I said and pushed the bottle across the table; the little worm sloshed in the liquid.  "Here, have a drink on me."

"What is it?"  he asked.

"Tequila," I said and beckoned the bartender to bring over another cup.  A prosthetic limb reached across the room and
set it down on the table.  "It's a human specialty.  Drink it.  It'll put hair on your chest."

I realized what I said and laughed.  The tequila was beginning to show its effects.

"What is that you are doing?" Woomaz gasped.

I shook my head and poured the tequila into his cup.

"It's called laughing," I said.  "I haven't been doing enough of it lately.  But if you want to work for me, you better get
used to it."

"I would be honoured," Woomaz said.  His arms oozed across the table and encircled the cup.  The tequila slowly
disappeared into his gelatinous flesh.

"You're not one of these species that's always so concerned about their honour they can't get anything done, are you?" I
groaned and drained my own cup.

"Oh, no!" he replied.  "I will work hard and assist you any way I can.  Golfish said you were a very pleasant master."

"He did?" I chuckled.

I wasn't surprised he mentioned the old bastard.  Golfish was an amphibian who ran the company like a demagogue. We
never saw eye to eye on many things and probably never would.  He had been trying to make my life miserable for longer
than I cared to remember; by sending me this wimpy blob for an assistant, he was succeeding.

"Yes, he speaks very highly of you," Woomaz continued.

"Did he tell you what I would need you for?" I asked and refilled both our cups.  The bottle was almost empty and I
contemplated buying another if the bartender had one.

"Yes," Woomaz said.  "You excavate caves in search of ancient artifacts."

"Close enough," I said, not wanting to get into a long discussion of interplanetary archeology, a relatively new science
since no one really cared about those old relics until recently.  "Right now I'm looking for these in the asteroids of Galena
90."

I dumped the contents of my haversack on the table.  Grey stones the size of unshelled walnuts spilled out followed by a
cloud of dust.  Woomaz lifted one and peered at the strange markings encircling it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"No one knows," I replied.  "But Golfish is very interested in getting his flippers on as many as he can.  I dig them up,
ship them out to him and get a few coins back in return.  Do you think you can handle that?"

"I will try," Woomaz put the stone back down on the pile.  "There are prayers written on the side.  Exultations to some
goddess."

"You can read them?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied.  "I am fluent in over a thousand dialects from various sectors of the galaxy, both ancient and
contemporary."

"Well!" I beamed and lifted my cup in a toast.  "You just may come in handy after all."

I drained my cup and glanced over at the Morbian who had trailed me into the bar.  He stood with the group that had
come in with Woomaz, quaffing the contents of his stein.  At least I think he was still there.  Morbians all look the same
to me, and the tequila was making me see double.  They murmured to one another in their own guttural language, glaring
and pointing in our direction.

"I don't like the looks of them," I said and tried not to make direct eye contact.

"They are harmless," Woomaz said.  "I hitched a ride on the hull of their ship.  That is how I got here."

"You can travel through space without a ship?" I asked.

"Yes, we Poddiqii do not require oxygen or the protection of cabin pressure.  We can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of
space."

I was amazed his body didn't become stretched to the thickness of a hair while hurtling unprotected through a wormhole.
 Shaking my head, I refilled both our cups.  The bottle was almost empty and the worm bobbed in a shallow pool at the
bottom.

A crumpled wad of tissue sailed across the room and bounced against the side of my head.  I didn't have to look.  I knew
who threw it.  It landed on the table and I brushed it away, knowing better than to confront a Morbian over a paper
cocktail napkin.  Murmurs of satisfaction rippled throughout the herd.

"There is an inscription on this," Woomaz picked it up and peered at the indecipherable handwriting.

"What does it say?" I asked, not really interested.

Woomaz hesitated.

"'Your father's stench is as foul the Varkurian mud swamps,'"

"That's probably true," I said and lifted the cup to my lips.

"I don't think they meant it as a salutation," Woomaz said.  "I think they meant to insult you."

"No kidding."

Another rumpled ball of paper struck me between the eyes and landed on the pile of stones from Galena 90.  A throaty
sound rumbled from the Morbians, their species' form of laughter.

"What does this one say?" I asked, bemused.

Woomaz read the paper.  If he'd had a face, he would have frowned.

"I don't care to repeat these foul expletives," he said.  "But basically it means your sister copulates out of season."

I placed the cup down on the table and began gathering the stones into my haversack.  I could almost feel the heat of
their stares boring into me.

The next wad of paper landed squarely in my lap.  I secured the clasp on my haversack and tightened the drawstring
around the lumpy contents.

"What about this one?"  I picked up the napkin with two fingers, not wanting to touch the slime left behind by the
Morbian's paws, and tossed it to Woomaz.

"Oh dear!" Woomaz moaned and read the inscription.  "This one says 'Your mother crossbreeds with the cave spiders in
the Galena 90 asteroids'."

"That's it!"

Emboldened by the liquor, I grabbed the neck of the bottle with my free hand and stalked toward the herd of Morbians.  
They could say whatever they wanted about my father; I knew firsthand the stench of his body odor.  They could say
whatever they wanted about my sister; she mates in any season with any creature that is convenient to her.  But nobody
- and I mean absolutely nobody - talks that way about the cave spiders of Galena 90 and gets away with it.

"Is there a problem here... gentlemen?" I demanded.

The Morbians were prepared for the confrontation.  The goon who had followed me into the bar stepped forward, flanked
by his peers, and stared down at me.

"Yes," he said and pointed to the near empty bottle in my hand.  "We have a problem with the beverage you have been
drinking."

"You mean this?" I laughed.  "It's just tequila.  All humans drink it once in a while."

I upended the bottle and swigged the last of the tequila, worm and all.

A chorus of horrified gasps greeted me when I smiled back at the herd.  Each Morbian grimaced; a few were too shocked
to do much more than gape at me in revulsion.

"What have you done?!" the Morbian gasped.

"What?"  I stared blankly at them.

"You have swallowed a child!"  I could see the anger rapidly rise within him.  "You have devoured one of our larvae!  This
is an abomination!"

"Uh-oh," Woomaz said behind me.

"No, I didn't... " I stammered.  "This is just tequila... from Mexamerica.  Isn't it?"

I turned toward the bartender.  He was laughing so hard his head rolled like a tumbleweed inside the jar.

"Forgive me, Human John," he said as he wiped a goblet with a filthy rag.  "But I have so little fun around here!"

The Morbian raised his fists over his head.

"Then I shall hunt down one of your hatchlings and consume it!" he bellowed.

I glared at the bartender.  If he'd had a neck, I would have reached across the bar and strangled him with my bare hands.
 Instead, I mollified myself by smashing the empty bottle over his head with all the strength I had.

Shards of glass exploded in all directions.  I ducked to avoid getting splattered by the plasma that spewed from the
shattered bell jar.  Still laughing heartily, the head rolled across the floor, leaving behind a trail of slime.  The goblet he
had been wiping smashed into the bar as every limb and appendage went haywire.  The mechanical arm frantically jabbed
the air until orange sparks shot out from its joints.  Hairy paws and bionic flippers waved and jerked in all directions.  
With a final shudder, the body slumped over the bar; the tentacles flopped in a puddle of plasma like a pair of dying fish.

"Look out!" Woomaz shrieked.

I ducked just as a blade whizzed over my head.  The Morbian bellowed in fury and lunged at me with an evil-looking
serrated dagger held high over his head.

"Filthy human!" he raged.

I grasped my haversack with both hands and swung it like a club.  The stones shattered as they struck his face with
sickening squishy thud.  He flew back on his haunches.  The dagger was knocked out of his paw and clattered on the
slippery floor.  His companions roared and waved their fists up in the air.  Before they could advance toward me, I hauled
back and kicked the bartender's head across the room.

"Watch the face!" the bartender screamed as his head sailed into the midsection of a Morbian.

The creature wailed in agony and doubled over, clasping his stomach with both hands.  Thick viscous fluid gushed
between the fingers.

"You've punctured my mucus sac!" he cried and dropped to his knees.

The bartender's head rolled like a marble on the floor, sputtering and coughing Morbian goo from his mouth and nostrils.

"Let's get out of here!" I called to Woomaz.

"Does this mean I get the job?" he asked as he slipped from his chair.

"Yes! Now let's get out of here before I get killed!" I shouted and ran towards the exit.  I reached down and grabbed the
first Morbian's lost dagger.

Another Morbian ran after me brandishing some sort of short curved weapon with an array of nasty blades at the tips.  I
turned and jabbed the dagger toward him, silently cursing myself for not having the foresight to bring my own weapon
into a place like this.  The blade missed its target; he backed away, growling in fury but at least I bought myself a few
precious seconds to escape.

The knives at the tip of his weapon whirred to life, rotating faster and faster until they became a lethal blur.  The blades
popped off and flew in my direction.  I ducked, but I knew I was probably too late.  I was doomed.

A purple blob sprung up before me.  The spinning blades struck Woomaz with a sickly plop and embedded into his
makeshift torso.

"Go!" he shouted as another Morbian advanced toward us.

I didn't have time to check if Woomaz was all right.  I scampered toward the exit, trying not to slip on the slick effluence
that covered the floor.  The portal glowed bright red, ready to convey me to the docking bay where my ship awaited me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Woomaz was unhurt and rushing up behind me, the stilled blades suspended in his
body like a piece of fruit in gelatin.  He reached down and scooped up the bartender's head in his gooey arms.

"Leave it!" I called.

"No! Take me with you!" the bartender said.

We leapt through the portal and it sealed itself shut behind us.  Jagged sparks crackled from its center as another
rotating blade struck the portal.  Howls of rage echoed from the barroom.

It wouldn't be long before the damaged portal was pried opened by the Morbians.  I headed straight for my ship and
dove through the main door just as it opened like an iris; Woomaz was close behind me with the bartender laughing in
his arms.

"Get in!" I shouted as I settled behind the dashboard.

The portal hissed opened and half a dozen enraged Morbians flooded out.  The engines kicked to life and Woomaz was
hurled across the cabin from the force.  He struck the far wall with a splat, dropping the bartender and knocking over the
shelves that contained the artifacts Golfish allowed me to keep.  The ruined blade popped out of his belly and clattered to
the floor.  Another souvenir for my collection.  The bartender's head lolled among the debris as the ship rose toward the
gaping black hole that was so vast it filled the sky and blotted the light from the galaxy's centre.

"Hold on!" I called and pulled on the navigation lever.

The ship sailed upward, slowing as it went.  Blades clattered against the hull until we were too far for them to reach.  
When the ship reached the summit, we plunged downward, spiraling sickeningly into the void.  Red and blue dots of light
whizzed past us, collapsing inwards until they became pinpoints of light.  And then pure darkness.  And silence.  We were
traveling beyond light speed, consumed in complete nothingness.

"That was close!" I heaved back in my chair and blew a lock of hair that had tumbled into my eyes.  My heart thudded in
my throat.

Woomaz slithered away from the wall and stared at me.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Go to Galena 90 and get back to work of course," I replied.

"But I need another body," the bartender said from the floor.

"Too bad," I said and picked him up.  His skin was surprisingly warm and papery, despite the plasma that still oozed from
his nostrils and ears.  I turned him over in my hands, checking for bruises or abrasions, but he appeared unhurt.

I yanked the leather cord from my haversack and looped it around the back of his head, knotting it tightly at the crown.

"Maybe now you'll stay out of trouble," I said and hung him from a rafter above the dashboard.

"Get me down from here!" the bartender demanded.

"I don't think so," I laughed and settled in my chair.

I leaned back and pulled the brim of my hat down over my face.  I needed to get some sleep.

Caroline Misner