S.P.E. 01 – Dude in the dunes: Space Post Express, #1

By Seagull Editions and Pier Maria Colombo

The Space Post Express couriers deliver all kinds of parcels around the known (and unknown) galaxy, at affordable prices, no questions asked! Tod and Phil, though, take their job one step further. The two friends take on the craziest jobs and have built quite the reputation for themselves.

When they find themselves on a small desert planet, stranded, their spaceship crashed, they don't lose hope. They've been through worse, right? But Tod's secret is revealed, and Phil suddenly disappears. What is the desert planet's secret? Will the two couriers uncover the bigger picture before they're disintegrated by their invisible captor?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223071433

Book preview

ARE WE THERE YET?

Endless, golden sand, under a blue sky. Nothing breaking the monotony of the dunes, with the desert touching the edge of the horizon. Well, nothing except for a huge rock. And a spaceship crashed onto it.

A short pillar of smoke was rising up from the spaceship, dissipating a few meters into the dry air. Quick and urgent beeps broke the silence, with lights flashing around the cockpit. The ship was trying to inform its occupants that there had been a hull breach, that the engine was malfunctioning, that life support systems were malfunctioning—every critical system status light was flashing red. Incidentally, despite the electrical system’s own errors, it was still functioning well enough to cause the cacophony of sound and light.

The occupants were out cold, though under the merciless desert sun, they were anything but cold. The spaceship’s alarms kept nagging at them, and eventually one opened his eyes.

Fuck, was the first word Phil said. Due to a very long career as a space courier, the first thing he noticed was not the clamor the ship was making, but rather the absence of the engine’s hum. Fuck, he repeated. Then, he saw the flashing lights.

Just as his brain finally started working fully, his consciousness was blasted by pain. He thought his shoulder was possibly dislocated. There was some blood on the console in front of him. His head was killing him. And he wanted to pee, real bad. He forced his hands up, which was excruciatingly difficult, then pushed at the seatbelt’s release button.

Tod? Phil said. He stood up from his seat, torment raking his body, and looked around.

Through the cockpit’s windows, he could see an endless desert. Right in front of the nose of the ship was a huge stone, on which they had crushed. Figures, he thought. The cockpit’s vacuum-safe glass was no longer vacuum safe, seeing as it had a hole in it. No matter, they had gotten out of worse. He touched his forehead and felt dried blood, but his hand came off dry. So no bleeding at the moment. Yes, they had definitely gotten out of worse situations. This was barely wild enough to make it to the top ten.

So far.

Phil rounded his chair and looked back, at the spaceship’s second station. His friend Tod was the navigator, communicator, plot charter, systems’ maintenance guy—in fact, Tod did most things. Phil piloted the ship and was a self-taught engineer, and intimidated old women who tipped badly.

In the other chair, strapped with his seatbelt, was Tod, still out of it. His arms were hanging limp on each side. Come on, dude. How can you still sleep with all this ruckus? Phil muttered half to himself. He approached his friend, keeping his balance against the navigation platform.

Dude, wake up, he said, louder. He finally reached his friend’s char, which had been a true achievement. His body was aching in more places than he could count. Come on, Tod. Wake up. He reached a hand out and grabbed his shoulder, then shook him.

His friend’s head rolled off his shoulders and onto the ground, a metal panel having fallen from the ceiling during the crash and cutting it off, embedding itself into the seat. Phil stood frozen for a long moment, then he closed his eyes tightly, expecting some blood to shoot against him. However, there was no spatter. Well, that made sense. His friend was probably dead, his heart not pumping up any blood. He cautiously opened his eyes, already afraid he’d barf on his friend’s corpse. Or worse, show any emotion.

He removed the metal panel and let it fall from his limp hand, clattering on the ground. It was wet, but not with blood. It was oily. Inside his friend’s neck, instead of gore, he saw... wires. Circuitry. He carefully extended a hand and touched the wires, getting a tiny zap for his curiosity. Was his friend a robot? Or had he been recently changed with one? He picked up the head which had rolled against the cockpit’s back wall.

Tod’s eyes were closed. He looked serene, if anything. Phil, not knowing what to do, spoke up again.

Tod? Are you... are you alive, dude? Tod’s eyes suddenly shot open. They were strangely flat.

Re... boot... ing... his friend’s voice said, pausing intermittently. His eyes closed again, then opened wide. Fuck, he said.

Now, that’s Tod, Phil muttered. Were you a robot all this time?

Is this the most important thing to ask me, dude? Tod replied, his brows furrowing. What the fuck happened?

Phil stared at his friend’s head, which was between his hands and about a meter away from the rest of his body. He looked up at the body sitting in the chair, then back at the head.

Uh, Phil stammered. Dunno. We crashed.

Let me see, Tod sighed. Phil awkwardly turned him around and moved him towards the window. That’s a rock, Tod said.

Yes, Phil said.

In an endless desert, Tod added.

Yes, Phil repeated uselessly.

You crashed us, Tod said slowly, "at a giant boulder, or rather, what appears to be the only boulder in this desert."

Yes.

Figures, said Tod. Leave it to you to find the only boulder in the whole desert.

Don’t get testy with me, Phil retorted. You’re a fucking robot.

A cyborg, Tod corrected. "And that has no import on the fact that we’ve crashed."

You’ve been lying to me for... for years, Phil started, turning his friend’s head around. How can you say that it’s not important?

Tod’s face was visibly irritated, eyes squinted in anger, brows furrowed. I didn’t say that. But you crashed us, dude. He sighed. Let’s see what’s damaged.

Phil moved his friend towards the instrument panel, mumbling, The rudder wasn’t responding. It’s probably your faulty engineering and not my piloting.

Because it’s never your piloting, Tod retorted. He stared at the panel, looking over the blinking lights. Anyway. We’ve been through worse. Get me to my body. When Phil turned the head towards the rest of the body, Tod cringed. Damn. I took a beating. Hold me steady, you’re making me nauseated.

Phil fought against the various aches and tried to remain immobile, holding the head. He watched as Tod’s body slowly moved up its arms, checked its range of movement, then made to punch the release on his seatbelt. Instead of reaching towards his chest, though, he reached outwards, hitting the panel in front of him.

Ouch, Tod’s head said. It was so strange seeing the disconnect between the two. Phil put Tod’s head under his arm and hit the seatbelt release. Thanks, said the cyborg.

Don’t mention it, said Phil. Tod’s body extended his arms, and Phil awkwardly handed the headless body its head.

Fuck, this is disorienting, Tod said as he received the head. He stood up quickly, hitting the back of the