Steem Wars: Ground Control to Major Tom

"Ground Control to Major Tom."

"Ground Control to Major Tom."

"This is Ground Control to Major Tom... you really are a jerk."

"Leaving with my wife and daughter, flying off the Eeeeeaaaaarth."

"What will I be doing? what will I be worth?"

(That's me, the renowned Bounty Hunter Kaber Tauss of Deeper Space)

I stand up and grab my blaster, unlock the safety and begin firing on my fellow coworkers in the Nebula 1-A Contact Room where I work as a GalactaMarketer. I hate my job. I hate my f*ing job. I watch as K'Tark and Schmegman IV fall dead, blue blood pooling around their Comm Console. I turn at a cough.

The worst!

The most boring Flingon I've ever been around steps up with his Coffee mug that reads Fly High, Greatest Dad in the World. He takes a boringly-long sip and slurps the edge with his proboscis. "Ummm, I'll need those TPS reports as soon as you can, mmkay? Yeah."

I use the Farce as if it's going out of style. Blandy McDrab'NDour drops like a sack of overripe oranges. You hear him gurgling about some stupid red stapler and a series of "mmKay"s.

"No sir, I don't like it."

I head out the door, leaving a trail of dead Space Telemarketers and dumb-ass Managers in my wake. I flip over everyone else's Spaceship and head towards my Cruiser. It's a Lightwave XLT. I named her the Century Pidgeon. She's orange and has a cool spoiler sticking out of the Afterdrive.

I hear my copilot break the silence. "Cheep cheep cheep."

That's Con Froyo. His pecker is as hard as diamond and his plumage as bright as Andromeda's Hole. Hold on all you dirty-minded people. I was talking about his beak... sheesh!

I climb the steps into the dimly-lit Cockpit, sliding my Pistol into its holster. I always feel so cool in my leather vest. I feel coins inside my vest pocket. "Zang! I can afford a drink!"

Get to work, Con!

Con blinks at me. His head tips to the side and he peers at me with a single eye. I know what he's thinking, of course... it's not tough since he's such a bird-brain. He preens and hops out of sight at my not-so-subtle hint.

I call through the Speaker Tubule. "Heading to Vonn Prime, Con! Time to get our drink on!"

The small vessel rises off the Platt Disc and zips away at sub-sub-light. Traffic was horrible at this time of year.

"Cheepcheep cheep cheep."

"Thank you Con! I'm turning 42! We'll pick up a few girls turn ourselves upside-down."

"CHEEP!"

The ship spun to the left and increased velocity. We broke out of the atmosphere and sped away from Luna Tix at sub-near-light. I couldn't wait to lose my mind... up in here and up in there. Oh, by the way, my name is Kaber Tauss. I'm now a Bounty Hunter, mainly because I can't stand the Telemarketing gig.

The Century Pigeon in all its glory