by James Bishop

The nights were long that summer. The air stunk of anti- freeze and solphordioxide, or maybe it was the personality elixir that I had just polished off. I had a craft, that wasn't the problem. The problem was the shortage of the elixir on my planet. One couldn't live a normal life without it, but little did I know of the life and death struggle that awaited me in the stars.

I took off in my craft to a planet far from my own. That place was rich in the essences of that stuff of life-the elixir; that planet's name was Deathnia. Deathnia was one of the most dangerous planets for a Rogue-Warrior like me. It was occupied by warlocks and doom pirates, the slime, drinking alcohol with a content level far pass gasoline; the gasoline of the old planet Earth. Earth and the whole milky-way galaxy were swallowed up by the great black hole in the year 2045. The survivors scattered throughout the universe to different planets, mutated and transformed by the nuclear dust that the hole left behind. I was supposed to meet with Gith, a well known alchemist and a friend of mine. He had the know-how to make the stuff I needed, the elixir. Maybe that's why the scum of that planet hung out there, to cash in on the business going on there or even try and tax my good friend, Gith. I started to feel turbulence. I was experiencing steering problems, but who knows how it happened. I had just tuned up my craft. I knew what it was! It was the space plankton, they fed on the stuff in the steering mechanisms; those things had teeth like razor wire and their claws were made of metalized Gama. I only had one opinion and there was no turning back. I ended up having to land on the nearest planet, Scaviko. The people there were as vacant as the place in which they lived. I docked my craft and began a tour of the town, city, market place, or whatever they called that hellhole of a place. They had repair huts and sells tents. Though, I needed my craft fix. I still needed the elixir before the life of the last silvery glowing capsule ran out and I was dead.

My plans were clear. I was to find the stuff while the old craft was getting a looking over. Well, I could have fixed it myself, but the stuff I needed to fix that jalopy was back on my planet. Why not give the workers there something to do, while I do what I needed to do? "Hi, you need craft examined," said a voice in broken English, the language of old earth, far in the distance of the dark tent, where some clones were working on contraptions and advanced mechanisms.

Stuttering from the flux of the fading elixir, I replied, "Yes, who are you?"

"Me, name is very difficult to pronounce," said the voice hidden behind the blur of the quickly moving clones and the shadow of the tent.

"Well, try me," I said, thinking, yeah for you seeing as how you had started your sentence with me instead of my.

"It Jux, and what of it"

"No need to get rude. Yes I need my craft checked,"

"Done." Snapped Jux, I knew he had shortened up his name in entertainment to himself. The clones were good at that-fixing- they probed and smooth their hands along the sleek design of the craft. Surprised at this sight, I paid Jux and went on my search for the elixir, but no place or creepy corner had the stuff. By that time the clones were done with my craft, new steering. I thanked Jux and took off, but because of the malfunction I headed back to my planet, Yury. I wanted to fix the craft to my standard, untrustworthy those things.

Suddenly, a shift in the time magnetism occurred, and a Rogue craft slowed from wrap speed, and was headed in my direction. Their craft was larger than that of mine. It sat five entities. Their craft pulled alongside of mine, and they drew out blaster beams and plasma blunders. They began to fire. Luckily, my craft had a defense mechanism, camoulflage. The beams would not flow through or be deflected by the mechanism, but the entities would have a difficult time trying to hit their target. I was in great peril, so I pushed the button, and then I was camouflaged. The entities craft floated by, and the passengers of the rogue craft heads twisted and bobbed looking for my hidden craft, but I was out of sight, but close to death.

After the near vaporizing of my craft and me, I made it all the ways back to my planet. That day as I Prepared my craft for the next flight, the continuing of my failed mission, I realized something. I realized that that elixir business one day would mean the end for me. That day embed in my mind, the image of me vaporized to particles, and in the midst of my scattered bloodied and plasma gooey parts, an unharmed vial of elixir. It's sort of an ironic ending, being that the lack of the elixir would have killed me as well, right?

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