When pigs fly
The satellite was old. It just barely
fit in the empty part of the cargo hold. Radiometry indicated an age
of 1.2 billion years, give or take 100 million or so. No telling how
much it would be worth, especially if he could get it working. Darren
squinted at the symbols etched into its surface. The script was
recognizable, but the syntax! He slammed his fist against the deck
plates. The instructions read like they were written in Betelgish and
translated into Centauran-A by someone who only read Vegan! He opened
an access hatch, blew nonexistent dust off of some weird-looking
integrated circuits (?), scratched his head, and put the hatch back
on. Beneath another hatch were rows of buttons with strange shapes
printed on them. They were no script he recognized. Nothing ventured
nothing gained -- mentally flipping a coin, he pressed the button
whose icon looked like copulating pigs.
A grinding and shrieking emanated from
the interior of the satellite. Bits of corroded metal sifted down
onto the deck. Hastily he pressed the button again and the sound
stopped. A moment later, a previously invisible door slowly ground
open, stuck halfway, then fell off with a clang. He smelled dust, and
something else. A staccato tapping sounded from the interior, and a
small blue-furred critter shot out of the satellite. The pseudo-pig
hit the deck running and disappeared into the dark recesses of the
crowded hold.
"Sacred waste products"
Darren exclaimed, leaping to his feet and running after the suoid.
There were a thousand places in the hold where something that small
could hide. He ran back and forth among stacked crates, moved boxes,
shone lights, even called to it, to no avail. Finally, he went to
his tiny refectory, dialed some stew from the Chefmaster, and put a
bowl full in the middle of the hold.
The blue pig trotted right out, even
let him scratch its back while it ate. After, it burped, curled up
beside him and went to sleep. When it started snoring, Darren walked
back to the satellite. The next button in line bore an icon that
seemed to have wings and horns, lots of them. Darren reached for it,
hesitated.
The end
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