Mr. Universe and the Norblan: Gus Valentino: Galactic Delivery Driver, #1

By Mike DeFrench

The Galactic Delivery Company will delivery anything, to anywhere in the galaxy.
Gus Valentino is still an entry-level delivery driver. But when he gets a big job, delivering live cargo, he thinks it's gonna be his big break. And it's just a tiny little guy! A norblan, for a little girl's birthday present.
But norblans can be more trouble than they look...
The first of the misadventures of Gus Valentino, Mr. Universe and the Norblan is a fun and humorous sci-fi adventure for fans of books like Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike DeFrench
• Release date: Nov 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201195038

Mike DeFrench

Mike DeFrench is a horror, fantasy, and science fiction writer from Indianapolis, Indiana. You can follow him on social media @defrenchwriter. Or go to defrenchwriter.com. To read the stories as they come out, and to stay up to date on any news, subscribe at defrenchwriter.substack.com

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Also by Mike DeFrench

Voyeur.exe

The Game We Don’t Play Anymore

Absent Thoughts Dressed in Black

The Queen in Yellow

Requiem for a Black Rose: An Overture of the Nightmare

All Roads Lead to the Inn

The Dust of Rumors Covers Him

Mr. Universe and the Norblan

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used

fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual

persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

––––––––

Copyright © 2021 by Mike DeFrench

All rights reserved.

Mike DeFrench

Mr. Universe and the Norblan

One

Dry as a friggin desert. His mouth, his nose, even his eyes for mercy’s sake! Every time he slept in the cockpit, his entire body felt sucked of every ounce of moisture. Something about the thermo-zaldridium heater up here, Gus Valentino thought for the thousandth time. The autopilot beeped incessantly like an alarm clock but with no option to snooze.

Opening his eyes was a chore. He had to blink about fifty times to produce enough wetness to be able to see normally. His nose was clogged and dry but he could still smell the cigar smoke which clung to the surface of everything around him.

Namely, the cockpit control panels and his work clothes. The standard uniform consisted of navy blue khaki pants, his were in desperate need of being pressed, and a short sleeved collared shirt of the same color that had the GalDelCo logo(nothing more than the letters superimposed on a bright swoosh symbol with the Milky Way in the background) sewn onto the breast. That too was wrinkled to hell because he’d slept in the uniform.

He was also in need of a shave and a haircut, he thought as he swept a hand through his messy brown hair and then scratching his chin. Didn’t want to get sited for being out of order. Again.

About a dozen and a half packages of different shapes and sizes and packaging materials, all yet to be delivered, littered the dashboard.

Stretch and yawn. His spitless mouth still tasted of the dark beers he’d downed while staying up too late last night. Hah, he thought, leaning forward as the chair beneath him creaked once for every ounce of weight he shifted. There is no night out here. No morning either! It’s just always black and dark.

Flickering rhythmically, the viewscreen projected a hologram of the space around him, mimicking the way terrestrial vehicles had windows up front. The Thecarian Courier, one of the smallest cargo-class ships in the Galaxy, and also GalDelCo’s standard delivery vehicle, bumped and jostled as the Long Term Transit engine rocketed the ship through Space.

Beep...Beep...Beep...

The autopilot nagged to be acknowledged. He stood and knocked over and empty glass bottle which rolled across the floor and under the control panel.