Krystabald and the Hermit
Krystabald was soaring through the Penoxion nebula in his Kreutz S-9000 at three times the theoretical speed allowed by the LGCPA (Local Group Civil Protectorate Agency). It was quiet, all indicator lights were blinking in harmonious way, and he could just relax on his stomach and let his new tentacle-tail massage his back. It was a wonderful bargain, a treat long overdue after all his space adventures. It was grown from the stem cells of an Ralexian salt worm. The rugged, yet soft material did wonders when he needed his back scratched. Not to mention the wonders it did to his more private parts… Those pleasant thoughts were interrupted by the blaring of the ship's alarm. “Object in path, advice course correction.” “Stop the racket and do something about it, you miserable waste bucket!” He screamed at the panels in front of him, but then he remembered he sold the AI to the CyberSlavers on Gibson Alpha. “Stupid digital piece of shit.” he muttered as he corrected the course a