Greegs & Ladders

Chapter 17

                                                        CHAPTER 17

                The Finding of a Very Rare Book Propels our Adventure

 

Blindly hurtling a fleet of Obotron ships through space is a very expensive thing to do.  Each of the 19 ships required to make a proper fleet is a gas-guzzling, top-luxury cruiser with room for hundreds of rich aliens.  Why, then, do three measly people require an entire fleet for their mission?  They don’t.  It is an insanely wasteful thing to do.

Investment Banker Preservationists (or IBP, the radicals who perpetually picket outside the homes of people who own very expensive space ships) would be horrified to learn that an entire fleet of Obotrons was being used for the transport of three people.  Anyone who cared about following the charts for Investment Banker populations would notice a major dive in the local supply every time the fleet made a pit stop.  When Krimshaw mentioned the idea of just bringing along one of the ships, to help out with preservation and all, Dr. Rip and the Astrospeciologist laughed and agreed it wouldn’t be right to break up the set.  Legions of staff were put aboard each ship, and were happy to learn there was nobody to serve.  They were especially pleased to realize the towels would never get used, and could thus remain in their original factory sealed state.

The Astrospeciologist (who shall henceforth be known as Wilx, because that is his name) was busy searching through the ship archives, which included catalogued maps of generally most all of time and space.  He attempted to set the ship on some sort of coherent path.  It was not an easy thing to do.

Krimshaw continued to gaze out of the epic space-viewing window, wondering about this mysterious planet of Greegs and how he would feel if it really existed, and if they actually found it.

Rip was sitting down, befuddled.  He gently cradled the last stolen bottle of Crammington Krish Fortinis.  The other two had been smashed in the madness of the getaway.  Some might say it is an impressive feat to retain even one unbroken bottle in the process of running from an angry and hotly pursuant mob, but Rip saw the uncharacteristic loss of the other two bottles as a veritable sign that he might be losing his masterful touch in life.

“Can we stop for more?”

“We’ve just left,” replied Wilx.

“You could turn around.”

“To the planet with the angry and hotly pursuant mob?  We’re lucky enough they’re not following us.  Most of them are too poor to own spaceships.”

“I thought Obotron ships were meant to be first class,” said Rip.  “How can they not have any Crammington Krish Fortinis?”

“There are countless crates of CKF stored in the cargo ship following the rear of the fleet.  But it takes a few days for them to catch up to us when we want something.”

“What sort of civilized planet do you think we’ll land on before then?”

“I don’t know,” replied Wilx.  “Right now the ship is on a distressing course, thanks to Krimshaw’s seemingly random destructive behaviour.  If I don’t correct the trajectories, we might find ourselves drifting into the invisible dimension.”

“I hear that place is like an affirmation of life.”

“No, it’s one of the worst places of all time.”

As Wilx pored over the infinite catalogues of star charts and dimensional gateways, Rip leaned over his shoulder and pitifully tried to make sense of the whole thing.  Wilx was so adept at flipping rapidly through the charts that all Rip could see was a dizzying array of kaleidoscopic imagery.  Rip sneezed violently.