Arth
Restoration City
McConnagle's Pub

Biggs Hilsfar was drinking a pint of Guinness, the surest sign that the Noah colonists had known what was really important: cultural legacy, technology and beer. Biggs took a slow sip and turned the page of his newspaper, scanning the classified ads for something worthy of his attention. Hauling mulberry orbital harbors? Who am I, Larry Bilperf? “Toto,” said Biggs, looking up from his paper, “who do I have to kill to get some pretzels around here?” Toto Jones was rinsing a few glasses from the night before.

“You know the policy chief,” yawned the bartender, “no pretzels ‘til noon.” Hilsfar shook his head and returned his attention to the advertisements. There were a few mining surveys and some shady passage requests, but nothing really good. The commander started thinking about what to grill up for dinner that night. Of course, that only made him hungry for pretzels. “Hey Toto...”

Arth
Restoration City
The Great Library

Arella Newark sat in an alcove on the fourth floor balcony of the library, warmed by the light that poured through ceiling of the classical structure. Arella was working on an artifact from the vaults below the library. The vaults contained thousands of archaeological finds from ruins scattered across the range of the Old Empire. Most of the artifacts—books, recorder logs, holo projections, artistic renderings and the like—had been tossed aside during the mad rush of the roaring four-six-twenties. Regardless of historical value, most finds had been virtually meaningless in the hunt for the critical tools, from the Phlegmak planet bombs to the keys to the fortress world of the ancients. With the crisis passed, there was plenty of time to sift through the wealth of material.

Arella was an Interstel lieutenant, meticulously trained to serve as a science officer aboard the exploration vessels of the Arthenean flotilla. She wasn’t in it for the science or the adventure, though. Arella Newark was in it for the archaeology and Interstel was her ticket to the endless digs that were sprinkled across the galactic museum. As she continued her work in the library, Arella was perfectly oblivious to the set of alien eyes watching her from a tier of balconies above.

Leghk Sector
G'Aeresch
Huf B'Doon Lava Pits

She comes for me! She hunts me relentlessly, seeking to release me from the mortal flesh and the weakness of carbon! Dozelord Gannuzo was on the brink of physical collapse as he stumbled through the searing lava pits. His epidermal flesh was charred from the heat and his bionic exoplants were breaking down. G’Naen Sh’Gar, cruel mistress! Purge from me all vile weakness! Can you see the merciless glowing eyes in the mist? She comes! Gannuzo snagged on a rock and careened into a pit of volcanic ash. The fine dust singed his eyes, but he kept crawling, desperate to escape. He stole a glance behind him as he clawed at the rocky ledge. I will never submit, vile Queen! Never will I surrender, oh, magnificent one! Amid the pain, the heat and the dementia, Gannuzo had the vision for which he had so longed. Covered in grow goo, he awoke some time later on the cold concrete floor of an intensive care cell.

He knew what needed to be done.

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Next: "Terminus Moon"

In 4636, Biggs Hilsfar walked into a bar, muttering something about "damned bill collectors" and "I'll show you prompt compliance..." A year later, the footage was found. So was the bar tab! The Biggs' Bills Project. In theaters now. With thanks to Kevin Coyle for artwork and HunterZ for endless technical help, it's 100% Starflight from concentrate. Stay tuned.

Hilsfar & Company: Because Grix Pities the Fool Who Eats His Baddick Stalks.
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