Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(104)

“Do I look edible?” it asked. Its voice, though clearly artificial, was full of sarcasm.

“I thought you were a container,” I explained. “What…what exactly are you, if I may ask?”

“I believe your species refers to us as ‘Dredel Led,’” the refrigerator said with clear distaste.

Surely there was no other Colmarian in history who had seen and fought and tried to get food from as many Dredel Led as I had. It’s like they were stalking me.

For a moment I was worried it might cause trouble, but then I realized it wouldn’t fight here—not on a Boranjame ship. Not when they got two Therezians strolling around.

“What brought you guys to Belvaille, anyway?” I asked, figuring now was a good time to inquire.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” it answered.

“Those dead…uh”—wondering what I should call them instead of Dredel Led—“robots at Belvaille.”

“Dead? Your species is so pathetic. You have no idea what this galaxy holds.”

“Well, our empire stretches across most of it,” I said with some small amount of umbrage.

“You don’t have an empire. It’s a collection of all the races no one else wanted.” The robot, if it’d had features, would have been sneering. Though the corner where I’d bent it kind of looked like it was grinning stupidly.

“Maybe. Maybe. But we sure killed the crap out of those robots you sent to Belvaille,” I said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the refrigerator repeated.

I wasn’t going to outsmart this metal box and it obviously didn’t have any food, so I left.

Making friends. Making friends.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to grab a Po and missing utterly.

More of them flittered by and I decided to try and communicate with my arms, waving them around excitedly. Hopefully they wouldn’t take offense.

One “paused” in front of me, though it continued to move even while staying relatively in the same spot.

“Hi. I’m really hungry and covered in waste. Is there any place I can wash and get something to eat?”

The Po in front of me motioned wildly. The signal was picked up by another across the room. And another. Then another. Within seconds, Po I hadn’t even seen were all taking up the call. A group corralled me and got me moving again.

I followed them for some time, winding through the ship, and they led me into a room that had a bed, although it was so large you could land a shuttle on it. The Po departed and closed the giant doors.

The room itself had no carpeting and was warmer than the rest of the ship had been. Its surfaces and structures were composed of what looked to be a dark green, crystalline material. It was smooth to the touch, but hairline fractures could be seen all throughout it, which gave an odd impression that the room was going to shatter at any moment. It was decorated much like a hotel room of enormous proportions.

I looked around and while I didn’t find a sink, there was a swimming pool. It had entry points with steps of various sizes, some utterly massive.

I tested the water, found it a bit chilly but good enough, and sunk into it. The water immediately turned murky at my entry, but was quickly filtered clear again.

Floating in the water gave me the ugly sensation of being back in space, so I cleaned up as best I could and exited. I then noticed a whole wardrobe had been placed nearby. Those Po sure were sneaky.

They even had a pink bathrobe with my title and name on the front. On the rear it said “Colmarian Confederation.” Like that was my sports team.

I looked at the robe for some time, wondering if I should get them to exchange it, but they had gone to the trouble to get it monogrammed. Besides, just because pink was a pansy color where I came from didn’t mean anything out here. For all I knew it could be the galactic color of death and destruction.

I finished putting on the clothes, which included underwear, shirt, pants, and slippers, all perfectly fit. Did they take my measurements when they ripped off my spacesuit or were the Po the universe’s super tailors?

Moments later about twenty Po arrived, deposited a table of food, and were gone. If I’d sneezed I would have missed them.

There was quite a variety to eat, but I wasn’t sure what any of it was. Did they know my biology? What if they accidentally gave me poison? Or what if I ate something that gave me diarrhea? I needed to talk to people and I couldn’t do it throwing up. As I passed over the various things that were presumably edible, it became clear that the Po had no idea what I specifically ate. There were slimy puddles of foul-smelling grease and live wormlike things that squirmed when I poked at them.