He called himself Mysterio but his friends called him Tyrio, although because his name was Max Longbranch in reality, only one thing could be said of him for certain: that he was a goblin you shouldn't let near the power tools.
"All impulse and no drag," he said to himself as he made his way to the bridge of his ship, coffee thermos in hand. He often talked to himself about himself. "Isn't that right, Albb?"
His pilot, Albbenaro, another goblin, slouched at his post on the bridge of their zeppelin the Whim. Tyrio's zeppelin, really. He was after all the captain.
"Yes, sir. That's what they say," replied Albb.
Tyrio sauntered into the compartment and settled down in his big chair. The bridge of the Whim had a curved, frontward facing viewing port covered with windows, behind which sat the pilot at his wheel, Tyrio in his chair, and furthest away the weaponsmaster at his gunnery station. Currently the weaponsmaster was absent, however. The bridge couldn't have been more than twenty paces across and twenty paces wide; however, it didn't feel small. In fact, it felt just large enough to feel strangely empty. It needed at least three more bodies to feel less like an aluminum cave.
"You know what I like?" Tyrio asked suddenly.
"What's that?"
"Sunshine."
Out the huge forward windows they got a whole lot of hangar door. This at least gave Tyrio's tyrescent light bulbs a chance to shine (pardon the pun). They glowed a hot white-green and looked liable to explode. At this point, though, it might be beneficial to know a little about goblins.
Goblins were among the three sentient races on Unum, the others being humans and what humans called 'barbarians'. There weren't many goblins, but they probably outnumbered the barbarians now, who were essentially no more. Goblins originated on another continent to the east and only reached Unum seventy-five years ago. Despite this, they had integrated into society very well. How? Why? Goblins were brilliant mechanics, particularly when it came to flying. They had invented the zeppelin.
Now, as for their appearance! Unlike the warty goblins you're familiar with, the bargob goblin has smooth skin, and, by any standard of our imagining him, a familiar physique. Still, their short stature, huge pointed ears, medium green skin, and featureless yellow eyes made them appear quite different than humans. And one mustn't forget their long pointed noses. Or claws. Trim claws!
Tyrio, not being the eldest goblin among his brothers, had no hair (only the eldest goblin ever does), although he made up for any perceived immaturity with a tall pith helmet, which, if he so desired, doubled as a knapsack. He wore dusty khaki fatigues so messy with straps, buckles, and belts that, to you or me, he looked like a Napoleonic Zulu-hunting madman, and he topped off his getup with big black laboratory boots and a long white lab coat. You wouldn't be the first to think he looked strange.
"You know what I'm going to build next?"
"No, what?"
"A shrinking machine."
"A what?"
"A shrinking machine!"
"Yes, sir."
Albbenaro on the other hand, who was almost old enough to be Tyrio's father, wore a leather Air Army jacket, matching britches, and a flight cap with goggles. Under his coat he wore a dark olive skirmishing uniform earned during his stint as an elite skirmisher in the Ground Army. He had been a sharpshooter, and only because a leg injury slowed him down did he ever join the Air Army. To you or me, he looked like the best of British riflemen in 1809 and the best of British fighter pilots in 1917. You wouldn't be the first to think he looked badass. He lit up a jet-black cigarette.
Their vessel began to rumble. Tyrio thumped the arm of his chair. "Finally! Sounds like this big bucket is finally getting going!"
Albb nodded. "Yep. The Empress Ogre should arrive at the southern rim in about a week." You see, their vessel rumbled but not because it took off; the vessel in which it docked took off. The Empress Ogre berthed many explorer ships and combat vessels.
"Did our orders come through, by the way?"
"Sure did," replied Tyrio. "We'll stay grounded here in the Ogre the entire journey—unless we're attacked, of course, which hopefully won't happen. Personally I'm glad we won't be asked to go on flyby. Gives me more time in the lab."
"I thought you said you liked the sunshine."
"Not as much as I enjoy the spark of my genius. Did I tell you about the tow rockets I built into this baby?"
"What? Oh yeah—"
"Tow rockets!" Tyrio boomed anyway. "For airborne grappling and an awesome landing. Been working on them for months! I think they're even cooler than my LASER!"
Fortunately for Albbenaro, at that point someone else joined them on the bridge. She wore a trim white uniform done up with polished brass, shiny black gloves and boots, and a forage cap badged and embroidered gold to signify her rank. Tyrio immediately stood at attention. Albb took his time.
"Good day," said Commodore Striper, a very attractive woman in her mid-thirties with dark hair. However, with a face perpetually confused (mildly, as if she didn't totally remember why she was there), she didn't exactly command respect, even despite her six-foot stature and superior rank. "I have important orders for you. ... Crap."
She walked out.
Albbenaro shook his head a little. Immediately Tyrio sat down and began to grumble, "You know, Albb, I'm starting to think what they say about her is true."
"I don't know what they say about her," replied the darker skinned bargob. He now leaned against the wheel.
"They say she moonlights as a dancer at the Sun and Moon Club. That's why they call her Commodore Stripper! I also hear she failed her intelligence test seventeen times and once accidentally wore a sexy bunny costume to a senior staff meeting back at the base!"
Albbenaro shook his head.
"I think her daddy bought her that commission. And catch this. She also—"
Suddenly Commodore Striper strode back into the room. She now had a folded piece of paper in her hand.
"Who about what? Who's 'she'?"Tyrio leapt to attention but his mouth just hung open.
"Just talking about our cook, sir," Albbenaro said casually.
"Oh. I didn't know you had a cook..." The Commodore's eyes wandered away in trifling thought. After a second or three, she snapped back to reality and put on a stern face. "I suggest discipline. If you're having problems with any of the crew—or just anyone in general—I suggest hard, physical discipline."
"We'll certainly take that under advisement, commodore," Albb offered as his captain continued to stare. Tyrio snapped back to reality.
"Brilliant idea, commodore!" he boomed. "Capital! Absolutely capital!"
"Uh-huh." The captain and the commodore stared at one another. "Anyway," started Striper again, barely, "the Whim has additional orders. Here they are." She handed the paper to Tyrio. "You've been designated an escape vessel. As such, you will be the last of the fleet to be called into battle, should the need arise, and you will be adding a medic to your crew."
"What exactly is an 'escape vessel'?" Albbenaro.
The woman replied tiredly, "If this ship starts to go down—the big ship we're on—you're going to be in reserve so that important people have a... something... have an escape vessel."
"We're honored, commodore," Tyrio said solemnly. "Although it's a travesty we won't be able to join our brothers if there's an attack upon this great ship, it's a greater duty to help essential personnel such as yourself to safety. Thank you, sir." He tried to think of something else official to add. "Do you have more information on the medic we're expecting?"
She obviously didn't, and more obviously had something else on her mind. "Yeah, they're... healthy," she finally invented. "Anyway, see you around. I thought I had something else to say, but oh well..." Slowly Striper turned and began to sidle out. The closer she came to the exit, however, the slower she got.
Tyrio and Albbenaro watched after her.
A snap of fingers. "Oh that's right." Striper turned. "Your father's on board, captain. He's going to join us this expedition as a senior adviser. It's really an honor to have him."
Then the commodore left.
"Crap." Tyrio. He slumped back in his chair.
Albbenaro waited.
"You know what, Albb?" the captain started after a moment, as if, in an armchair with his grandson on his knee, he recollected a beautiful old story, "I had it all planned out to a tee. I'd get this cushy explorer's assignment, volunteer as a reserve, and spend a paid year in my lab. And you know what? It all worked out great. Just great..."
Thumping the arm of his chair, anxiously now, Tyrio looked idly out the forward windows. He stood up. Then, after muttering something under his breath, he shoved his orders into one of his six dozen pockets and walked off the bridge.
Albbenaro sat back down. He shook his head, a little, and lit another cigarette.