For the Thrill of the Blunt Read online

  For the Thrill of the Blunt

  Far Out Chronicles: Book Three

  Tom Sadira

  Copyright © 2019 by HIFI Press LLC, Tom Sadira

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-948588-06-5

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Disclaimer

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  ——— Thanks for reading! ———

  Silence of the Schwag

  About the Author

  To Leo, for reminding me that inspiration can be found anywhere—even in the depths of a clogged toilet.

  Disclaimer

  Well, well, well. You’re back.

  I guess my disclaimers from the previous books didn’t dissuade you from the pitfalls of cannabis. You’re probably reading this from your cardboard home under a bridge, or from a padded room, or from a prison cell.

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  What the hell did you expect to happen when you poison your mind?

  Sure, cannabis might alleviate aches and pains without dangerous pharmaceuticals.

  Sure, sex might be ridiculously enhanced.

  Sure, you might sleep better.

  Sure, you can feel the music, now.

  But at what cost?

  Think about what you’re doing to your future. Instead of floating through life as a mindless, capitalist zombie—like God intended—now you’re cursed to think deeply about the flaws inherent in your culture. If you keep puffin’ on the devils weed, you’ll even start thinking of ways to challenge the status quo. Hmph. Good luck with that.

  1

  Charlie Hong, doing his best version of Captain Hong, stood glaring at the entrance to Lavaka. His fists were clenched, his eyes narrowed. A smoldering joint dangled from his lips.

  He steadied himself and lifted a foot to step forward. After letting it hang there for a few seconds, he sighed and settled back into a slouch.

  Dammit, stop being such a coward and go make the trade.

  Charlie knew that a real starship captain, someone like Captain Jean-Luc Picard, would never have fallen for such a dumb trick in the first place. A real space ace like Captain Kirk wouldn’t hesitate to slap her and throw her conniving ass off his ship.

  Hell, all I’ve done for the past hour is stand out here looking for my balls.

  He started to take a step, but got distracted by how painlessly his ankle moved and his toes wiggled. For the third time this week, the Starseed proved that it offers some pretty awesome medical benefits.

  Tendrils of incense smoke slithered out from behind the heavy tapestries that separated Lavaka from the Ring. Did she ever stop burning that nasty shit? The stench made his stomach do a backflip into his bowels. After the previous banquet of steamed spider mites—and the equally repulsive feast he’d just run out on—Charlie wasn’t sure he’d ever be hungry again.

  He shoved a wad of cotton into each nostril.

  His ears perked up. Her mournful siren song, as faint as it was against the ruckus of the Ring, tugged at him. It made Charlie want to run to her, embrace her, comfort her, protect her.

  He twisted an earplug into each ear.

  This would be his last visit to her lair. After this quick exchange, he’d take his crew’s advice and stay as far away from this place as possible.

  He might even have a chat with Mother about evicting her. Shouldn’t he, the captain of the Starseed, have the authority to decide who poses a threat and who doesn’t? She’d lied to him, tricked him, and put a lot of lives at risk. And for what? A stupid flower?

  Charlie slipped his hand into his hoodie pocket to make sure it was still there. He carefully pulled it out and held it up to his face. Six electric blue petals—the whole thing no larger than a dime—splayed from a gnarly black stem.

  Six lives sacrificed for a goddamn flower.

  As he’d done a dozen times, he started to take another step toward the entrance, but stopped. Would she try to drug him? He’d refuse any food or drink, that much was certain. What if she offered him something else? Something more tangible than data?

  He slid a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes.

  This time he’d be ready for her tricks. He was going to march in there, slam the stupid flower on the bar, grab the disc, and get the hell out. No chit-chat.

  He stretched a length of duct tape over his mouth.

  Suddenly he was haunted by the memories of his first visit: her fingertips sliding across his forearm; her ruby red lips brushing against his ear; her supple cleavage hovering over the bar.

  Get a hold of yourself, dude!

  Charlie lifted a joint to his mouth, but it bumped into the tape instead of his lips.

  “Ffuggitt!” he mumbled, shoving the flower back into his pocket and sticking his chin out.

  After what I faced this week, this should be a piece of cake.

  He punched the tapestry aside and charged into the one place on the Starseed he’d like to forget.

  2

  EARLIER THAT WEEK:

  Wisps of incense tickled Charlie’s nostrils, gently rousing him from a deep sleep. Then the terrible sneezing fit began.

  To kick things off, a single, explosive sneeze rocked him from head to toe. He barely had time to sniffle before a quick succession of three smaller sneezes followed. Eyes watering and nose dripping, he gasped desperately for air. Unfortunately, the panicked inhalation drew more smoke to his nose, which in turn triggered a violent quintet of snotty blasts.

  Charlie thrust his face into the pile of cushions he was lying on. Once the urge to sneeze subsided, he tried to flip himself over but discovered that his limbs were stiff lead beams. With every heartbeat came a rush of pressure against the back of his eyeballs, as if they were being shoved out through their sockets. He couldn’t help but imagine a plump alien larva digging around inside his brain, looking for a way out.

  Oh, right. I live in space now. That kind of thing is definitely possible.

  Somewhere beyond the darkness of the cushions, a woman was singing. It was a sad, slow song in a language he didn’t recognize. The melody sounded familiar, but his mind was too muddled with pain to recall where he’d heard it.

  Charlie lifted his head and cracked open his eyelids. He was in a bed-sized alcove, sprawled on a mound of velvety pillows. Drawn across the open side of the alcove was a heavy curtain whose pattern reminded him of something between a Persian rug and a Celtic banner. Opposite the curtain, purple flames danced atop a cluster of candles held by an iron sconce.

  Dammit. Where the hell am I now?

  The song drew closer. Charlie tensed and tried wiggling life back into his limbs.

  He managed to flip over just as the voice reached his alcove. Incense smoke was still wafting in around the curtain’s edges. Afraid it might spark another sneezing fit, he held his breath and waved it away.


  “Good morning, Captain Hong.” Her silvery, soft voice was just above a whisper.

  Before he could respond, a narrow shelf grew out from the wall and stretched across his lap. A bulge rose on the surface of the ledge and morphed into a pint glass full of clear liquid.

  Charlie ran his sandpaper tongue over his lips. He reached for the glass, but was stopped by a slender hand that slipped between the curtain and the alcove wall. Jeweled bracelets jingled from its wrist and each finger wore a ring.

  “Just one moment,” the woman said. “Let me add something to help relieve your pain.”

  The hand disappeared behind the curtain, returning a moment later to sprinkle a pinch of red powder into the glass. It dissolved instantly and turned the water pink.

  “Drink as much as you can. When you’re ready, come see me at the bar.”

  Charlie leaned over the glass and sniffed. It smelled awesome—like Gatorade mixed with hot cocoa, or Kool-aid mixed with peanut butter, or maybe orange juice mixed with soy sauce. He seized the glass with both hands and gulped it down. It was much saltier than he’d expected, but once the glass touched his lips he couldn’t stop until he’d guzzled every last drop. As soon as he returned the empty glass to the shelf, both slid back toward the wall and melted into it, vanishing completely.

  “Thanks, man. I mean, uh, ma’am.”

  Fighting the urge to lay back down, he managed to lift a tired arm to shove the curtain aside.

  The room beyond the curtain looked like something between a roadside diner and an opium den. Rustic chandeliers held more candles topped with dancing purple flames. Broad tendrils of incense drifted lazily from one end of the ceiling to the other. Beneath the smoke were a dozen or so tables, many with alien patrons quietly nursing oddly-colored drinks or nibbling on unidentifiable foodstuffs. The entire perimeter of the room was covered with ornate curtains. A few of them were open, revealing tiny bedded alcoves like the one he’d woken up in.

  Behind the bar at the center of the room stood an olive-skinned woman with dark eyes, ebony hair, crimson lips, and—he couldn’t help but notice, even in his wretched state—a most bountiful bosom. As she wiped the bar down she hummed the strange, melancholic tune he’d just heard someone singing.

  She slid a frothy mug over to a hairy thing that sat hunched at the end of the bar, then spun around to face Charlie. The moment their eyes met he felt a zing in the deepest regions of his heart. Or was it in his pants? Did it matter? He struggled to see the difference. All he could think about was going to her, embracing her, taking care of her.

  Whoa there, boy. Don’t forget junior year of college. Spring break in Rocky Point. That hot bartender you somehow found the courage to hit on.

  He cringed. Some part of him could still feel the tequila searing his nostrils and sizzling into his cornea.

  The woman’s eyes flicked toward an empty stool. Charlie clasped his head tightly as if it were a live grenade, and slowly got to his feet.

  Each step sent a bolt of pain exploding through his skull. After what felt like a mile-long trek across the room, he steadied himself, slid onto a stool, and moaned.

  “Jesus fucking Christ. My head feels like it’s gonna burst open.”

  “It’s good to see you up and moving around, Captain. I was starting to worry you might not wake up at all.”

  A new glass of water morphed out of the surface of the bar in front of him. He reached a trembling hand toward it.

  “Wait.” She sprinkled a pinch of red powder into the glass. Charlie smacked his lips as he waited for it to dissolve.

  He took a sip, swished it around inside his mouth, and tried to make sense of why he felt like a steaming pile of death. Had he been hit by a bus? Had Zylvya punched his lights out again? No matter how hard he searched his mind for an explanation, he came up empty handed. All he knew was that he needed a hot shower, some comfort food, and no less than a hundred hours of sleep. Despite the dim light stabbing at his eyes, he opened them wider and scanned the room for an exit.

  “Thanks for the, uh, drink. I think I’ll take the rest to go. If you could point me to the exit, I’ll be on my way.” He took a step to go, but his knees buckled and he stumbled backward, plopping onto his stool. Her crimson lips curled up at the edges as she locked eyes with him again. The stool suddenly felt like the most comfortable place in the world.

  “Captain! Give yourself some time to recuperate before you rush off to save the galaxy. And perhaps next time you’ll avoid giving into such pointless dares. Especially dares that involve Denubian Dewdrops.”

  “Dares? Dewdrops?” He held his head and groaned. “Listen lady, I don’t know who the hell you are, or what the hell you’re talking about. I’m still on the Starseed, right?”

  “Yes.” She giggled. “We did this last night, but why not introduce ourselves again? My name is Nadia, and this,” she waved a hand to either side, “is Lavaka, my very own cozy corner of the Starseed. You’re the legendary Captain Hong. You and Vargoni had quite a party in here last night. Don’t you remember?”

  Charlie sipped the salty beverage and looked around suspiciously. “The last thing I remember is wandering through the Ring on the way to my quarters. I heard someone singing from inside one of the shops…” He bolted upright. “Hey, that was your voice, wasn’t it? That song you were singing a minute ago? As soon as I heard it, I had to find out where it was coming from.”

  “I’m flattered,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. “I often sing that old Madu song when I’m feeling lonely.”

  “Did you say I was with Vargoni? That big bird dude from the transport bay?”

  “That’s the one. When you came in, you sat next to him here at the bar. You guys smoked a few joints, made friends with some other patrons. Your stories of life on Earth had everyone falling off their stools! It’s hard to believe you don’t remember any of it…” She tilted his face up and peered into his bloodshot eyes. “Denubian Dewdrops are notorious for taking their toll on homosapiens. The last human foolish enough to try one nearly died. What is it with you captains? Is it an abundance of courage—or just utter foolishness—that makes you take such risks?”

  An eternity passed as he held her gaze. Her eyes promised so much. They held all the answers. They were worth suffering for, dying for, even killing for.

  As his heart raced, it sent a spiky ball of pain bouncing around inside his skull. He winced and buried his face in his arms. From the darkness he asked, “The last human? Are you talking about Captain Major Tom? Did you know him?”

  “Of course. I knew him well. Wouldn’t it be strange if a ship’s Chief of Secrets didn’t know her captain?”

  Charlie squinted over his forearms. “Huh? Mother never mentioned anything about a Chief of Secrets, man.”

  She emptied a tumbler into a row of shot glasses, loaded them onto a tray, and slid them to a pair of biomechanical fish creatures sitting a few stools down. When she was done, she turned her attention back to him and smiled serenely.

  “I know it’s only been a few days since you’ve arrived on the Starseed, but you look like a smart ape. I bet you’ve already figured out that there are plenty of things Mother fails to tell her crew. Maybe you’ve even caught her lying.”

  “What? Why would she keep stuff from me? I’m the captain! She’s, like, our mother. Actually, she sounds more like my grandmother. Anyway, man, she’s just a really advanced A.I. that’s programmed, or whatever, to take care of everyone aboard the Starseed.”

  “You’re 100 percent sure about that, Captain?

  Of course Charlie was sure. Mother was the ship. The ship provided for the 500 billion organisms aboard the Starseed: perfect nutrition, perfect gravity, a personalized local atmosphere. She opened herself up to an endless flow of interplanetary refugees. She’d been cultivating life across the galaxy for millenia. And she did it all without asking for anything in return.

  Didn’t she?

  Whatever.

  Everyone seems p
retty damn happy here.

  Shit, man, this place is like the Garden of Eden, in space, on weed.

  Who the hell is this lady to question Mother’s integrity?

  Charlie opened his mouth to sling a witty rebuttal, but nothing came out.

  Sure, Mother was a saint. An interplanetary Harriet Tubman. A cosmic Mother Teresa.

  On the other hand, Mother had helped Major Tom hide his Reptilian nature from the rest of the crew. She’d known about his plan to use Charlie as a decoy, yet she played dumb until the last moment. She’d conveniently failed to mention that the dorky space onesie she gave Charlie was actually a jellyfish assassin creature.

  Shit, man.

  Nadia patted his hand with a sympathetic frown. “Mother is very old, very wise, and she knows a great deal about this ship and the galaxy. But there’s plenty she’s not aware of. Sometimes, she simply avoids telling us the truth if she thinks it might disrupt her own plans. And trust me, she always has, and always will have, her own plans.”

  “Hey, man, wait one goddamn second!” Charlie sat up, struggling to keep his eyes from her supple chest. “Why the hell should I trust you?”

  She leaned over the bar, grazed her cheek against his, and whispered into his ear. “Because, believe it or not, Captain Charlie Hong from California, son of Susanna and Ben Hong, I’m your new best friend here on the Starseed.”

  He nearly fell backward off the stool. “How the hell do you know my parents’ names? Who told you—”