Cosmic Thirst

Sensitivity warning: Violence and Alcohol.

As the only Irishman this far into the deep reaches of spa- no wait. As the only human this far into the deep reaches of space, I found myself rather parched. Not just “Oh I wouldn’t mind a glass of water, thanks.” I mean thirsty, and a thirst for the good stuff, too! No water could quench this thirst, no sir. I had been traveling for something like fifteen light-years or so after a deep space research mission had gone wrong. Just me on my own, well me and my ship, the Icarus 28-B and it’s AI. We made a balls up, a race known as the- no never mind actually, I’m ranting, where I should be thinking, thinking of the golden nectar, the angels tears, whiskey. Anyway so I put myself into hibernation and was under ice with orders for the ship to wake me if we discover an anomaly, if we encounter any other human coded ships in the area, or any other species.

“Breakfast burrito is ready, sir.” The onboard AI said.

“Coffee too, please. And hurry up, this water’s awful!” I reply, truthfully, too!

Along came the conveyor sushi-like delivery system with a hot cup of coffee and a breakfast burrito which was basically burrito flavoured mash potato in a sorry excuse for a tortilla wrap. I reached for my coffee, then for my poor burrito when the seemingly impatient AI went to skidaddle the tray away from me like I was too slow.

“WAIT!” I yell, with an embarrassing voice crack in the middle.

“I’m just awake, you madman. Give me time to- why is it so fast anyway?” I ask of the AI.

“Next time be quicker, sir.” It replied with little empathy. “You had twenty seconds to remove your breakfast items, this seems adequate to me.”

“Yeah well my brain isn’t as fast as yours and I’ve just been woken up from the freezer, and don’t call me sir, it’s jack.” I reply, taking a sip from my coffee and spoiler alert, it’s shit.

“So why did you wake me up, Icarus? Are we out of the system yet?”

“My deep field scan suggests not only activity but possible signs of lifeforms roughly eighty-seven million kilometers north of us relative to the systems star.” The AI replies, like the know-it-all he is.

“Cool it, nerd.” I reply, “If you think it’s worth checking out then set us on course, it could be a human station.”

“Not likely, sir.” Replied Icarus, matter-of-factually.

I sat there, mash burrito close to it’s demise, clutched in my hands as I feel close to an aneurysm, waiting for Icarus to continue, he doesn’t.

“WELL? GO ON!” I screamed, with another voice crack.

“The nearest human station is based in Tau Ceti while we are in Ross one-fifty-four. This seems unlikely to me that humans could be here, and judging by the elements surrounding the structure that I have been able to scan, it is not human in origin.” Icarus replies.

“Fair enough, consider me told. Let’s get a bit closer, at least close enough that we can see using our scopes. It’s been fifteen years since I’ve had interaction with Humans, Glyptorians or Aethernites and I wouldn’t mind seeing if we can restock, refuel and maybe-” Whiskey. Back to the little demon that won’t get off my shoulder, the proverbial back seat driver telling me what I want to hear. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an alcoholic, at least that’s what I tell myself, but I just need a drink. I’ve tried the coffee, it was awful and if I could have left a review it would have been scathing, no, what I need is some good, Irish, tripled distilled whiskey. And if this is a station we’re heading to, I reckon I might get lucky. Both Glytptorians and Aethernites alike have a wide selection of drink, some too weak for us humans and some that would blow the head off you and was sure to leave hairs on your chest in it’s wake. It may not be Irish, but I’ll try anything at this point.

“We have approached telescopic range of the structure.” Icarus chimed in, “my long range sweep tells me it is a station equipped with docking bays, taxi systems and a highway system between the station and nearby stars. We seem to arrive off the beaten track, so to speak.”

“Great, take us in and hail the relevant comms to gain access.” I reply.

“Already done, sir.”

“It’s JACK!”

Not ten minutes later we found ourselves docking into one of the available bays within the station, my wrist computer telling me it’s the commercial hub, and Icarus in my earpiece guiding me through the bustling crowds, stalls and shops as I make my search for the one thing I’m after. As I walk I can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the size of this place, they even have what looks like an artificial weather system too, equipped with a day and night cycle on the ceiling. It might be hundreds of feet up to have such an effect on us down here, and the artificial gravity is turned up a little too high, so much so I’ve got that old earth cowboy gate trying to keep myself up. To my left and right are rows of what looks like shops and entertainment areas while in the middle are humble stalls and food courts for the weary spacefarers, none of which appear to be human.

“Huh, I guess Icarus was right” I said, “no humans in si-”

“SCOOBALA-BOOBALA” A heavy set creature with flailing arms screams into my face while holding what looks like a… gameboy? Weird. I look at the creature, large, purple scaly skin writhing with what might be extra arms to “SCOOBALA” another sucker walking past. It’s one large eye blinking forty times a second, like he’s trying to beat the universal record for the fastest morse code signal. Definitely not a species I’m familiar with, anyway, I’ll call them epilepsyns on account of that rapid fire eye.

“Sir, may I ask you about the request you made before leaving the ship?” Icarus sounds in my ear comms.

“Yeah, what is it, Icarus?”

“I have located what appears to be a bar, but, I must warn you it’s rather unconventional.” He replies.

“If it has the good stuff it can be whatever it wants. Pin me the location on my tac.” I reply, and before I could finish my sentence my wrist vibrates with a notification from the ship.

“Bingo, and not too far away.” I mutter, slightly confused as to why it’s the only bar on this station.

“Icarus, have you gotten a language translator set up yet? I’m getting the side eye or eyes from most of these creatures and I’m getting nervous.”

“Ten minutes, sir. I’m close to complet-”

“IT’S JACK!” I shout, and then I notice all eyes are on me completely now.

“It’s Jack, you idiot. Stop calling me sir! You don’t hear me calling you “Icarus 28-B”, so stop calling me sir!” I continued, this time under my breath making sure only for the AI to hear me.

“Icarus 28-B is my official designation, though. I’d prefer it if you called me by my intended name.”

“And I’d like a bottle of Jameson but we can’t get everything we want.”

I continue to walk my way towards salvation when a group of glorified cornstalks walk towards me, all eyes fixed on my as they angle themselves so as to hit me dead on.

“Gonna need that translator, now.” I say to Icarus.

“Nearly there, Sir.”

“It’s JA-” I begin to say but four of these stick insects surround me before I could finish.

“Necktith-albogronar!” One shouts, in what tone I have no clue, I’m a foreigner, remember?

“Know any english?” I say, but then the closest of the cornstalks takes a swing at me, I duck his attack faster than he can account for judging by their sudden step back. I guess these guys must be the sloths of this galaxy. I wait patiently as they process the encounter but they just speak among themselves just as Icarus’ translator comes into effect.

“This one has dishonored you, vlikath. Attack!” One says.

“Show this rubbery one the might of the Anorthax!” Another pipes up.

“Hmm” I thought, “I’ll give them a lower sweep kick, just as a warning shot.”

I put my left foot out in front of the other, position myself accordingly, then let loose a low, sweeping kicked aimed at what I can only assume are the knees of these cornstalk/sunflower string-beans.

Crack. All fours legs snap in half at the knee as I follow through with my “Warning” kick.

“SHIT!” I scream, another voice crack, “SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!”

“Sir, please stop screaming.” Icarus chimed in.

“IT’S JACK!”

I apologise to the cornstalks and run in a panic, veering to the left of my current path I end up running through the center of the road, dodging stalls, merchants, shoppers and what appears to be a policing drone. I can hear the shouts of the cornstalks behind me fading the further I go.

“Make a right here, the bar will be three buildings down.” Icarus says into my ear.

“Perfect!” I shout, running out of breath.

Icarus was right, I see the lights although I can’t read the sign of course. I dash in through the entrance of the bar and straight into a door. Like slap bang into the door, full body slam. I feel blood running out of my nose but I’m too excited for the sweet nectar laying just beyond these doors, or door? Not sure how it works, so I start pressing around the door, hoping for some otherworldly version of an open button, but no luck. I notice through the glass there are customers and what look like bar staff, so I start flailing my arms, hoping they’ll get the jist. A large tentacled creature approaches the door, he simply says “open” and the door zipped upwards, nearly flicking my likely broken nose on it’s way past.

“Thanks, big lad!” I say as I walk past him, or her? Or it, maybe.

“Small creature not welcome.” I hear a second after he stops speaking as the translator does it’s magic. I pretend not to understand and saunter up to the bar where I take a seat and then make rather odd gestures to indicate my need for a drink.

“Icarus, what’s their word for alcohol?” I ask my AI.

“Argnok” He replies

“Thanks!”

I clear my throat and look the odd the three eyed creature in the center eye and shout,

“ARGNOK!” And my voice cracks of course.

The three eyed alien looks at the big guy who is making his way back to the bar.

“The rubber one wants alcohol.”

“Ha! Good luck finding alcohol here!” The big lad replies.

The three eyed creature looks at me and speaks slowly.

“We believe alcohol is the devils work, so we only sell health smoothies and nutritional bars here.”

“Wha- what?” I stammer. “Icarus what’s the word for shit?”

“Dung.” He replies. Of course it’s dung… Talk about universal.

“Dung!” I shout in anger, but the big guy turns and looks at me with a look of confusion and disgust.

“Wait an hour after my lunch and I’ll give you a box to take home.” He says with a chuckle.

I stand up, stretch then punch the big guy right in the gonads, or whatever equivalent it is, then I run for the door, and in the process I run straight into it again.

“WORD FOR DOOR, WORD FOR DOOR!” I shout, hoping Icarus can hear me through my voice cracks. The big lad is up now, and he’s walking towards me, rage painted across his alien features.

“Boloka.” Replies Icarus.

“BOLOKA!” I shout, but too late as the thigh sized forearm of this now frenzied barman comes into view, I dodge, rolling to his right which now puts him between me and the door.

“Give him the left, right jab!” Says the three eyed bar-creature.

I duck a swing from big lad, the another as I strafe to his left while shouting “BOLOKA!”

The door opens once again and I use this opportunity to throw another punch at the big lads gonads, another strike and he’s down again. I steady myself, run to the bar and deck the three eyed creature right between the eyes, well between the two outer eyes, then I run out the door. I don’t know what came over me but that bar fight was necessary, or so I tell myself.

“Icarus, ready the ship I’m on my way!” I shout.

“Already done, Sir. I heard the commotion.”

Ten minutes of running and I was back in the safety of the Icarus 28-B. I sit myself down on my bed and take a long breath.

“Whew!” I say, wiping my brow. “This extra gravity is awful for my joints, I’m going to be sore in the morning.”

“After the chaos you caused in there, sir, I believe you have earned it.” Icarus says, almost sarcastically.

“Tone down that attitude or I’ll dismantle you. I’m still dying for a drink, badly and there was nothing in that bar! Why didn’t you warn me?”

“You didn’t ask.” He replies, definitely sarcastically.

“Never mind, just take us out of the station, I’m going to go for a shower.”

As I go to the onboard shower, defeated and disheartened I first enter my room to gather my clothes and towels. As I search through cupboards and my wardrobe, trying to remember where I put my damn clothes I spot a glimmer of light reflecting at the back of the wardrobe.

“Could it be…” I mumble, slowly reaching in, as if something horrible yet wonderful, deadly yet comforting lay within. As I move the final set of clothes out of the way I see it, a beautiful bottle of 18 year aged Jameson Irish whiskey stood at the back.

“YES!!!” I shout, ecstatic at the finding of this proverbial goldmine. I rush back into the kitchen and dining area, fumble about looking for a glass when Icarus helpfully chimes in.

“Second cupboard from the right.”

“Thanks Icarus!” I shout, overjoyed as I open the cupboard door. Reaching in I grab a glass, giggling with anticipation I pull the cork out from the top of the bottle with a satisfying pop, then I slowly and delicately pour myself a double serving all the while admiring the way the liquid sloshes around the glass edge. I raise the glass to my nose and breath in deeply, appreciating the delicate notes.

“Caramel, oak and spices. What a beautiful thing.”

I take a sip, sit back and slowly breath out, contented to have gotten what I wanted all this time.

“You look to be enjoying that, sir.” Icarus says.

“Si- You know what you can call me whatever you like.” I reply, happy and without care. I’ve had my fun, and that’s all that matters.