Metallic Genealogy

It wasn’t Morpher’s keen instincts which let him know the ship had landed on Fanstergrantz, but rather a harsh buzzer, followed by an informal announcement over his cabin intercom.

"Be on the runway in two minutes," the voice said, almost incoherently. "The ship won't stay long."

Morpher quickly rounded up his belongings and stopped to take a moment to reflect on the lack of hospitality he had been shown: While he thought he had made a small, personal connection with the Captain -- and could perhaps even possibly have been friends with the man under different circumstances -- this minuscule nicety had been sharply juxtaposed with the monstrous counterweight of a constant barrage of attempts to derail his mental well-being.

"WE HAVE LANDED," came the inhospitable voice over the intercom, much more insistent this time. "IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO DEBOARD." Morpher jumped at the sound, sighed and hurried out of his cabin, quickly making his way down to the dock where three officers -- the Captain, the first mate and oddly the man who had spilled the soup in his lap -- were standing impatiently waiting for him.

"Thanks for keeping that fish from murdering me," he told the Captain, grabbing the man's hand forcibly in an attempt to shake it.

The Captain smiled and bowed his head, while at the same time tugging his hand free. Morpher's ego couldn't decide if the man was too emotional to respond in kind, or if he were simply afraid of Sheira to drag out Morpher's departure one second longer than was necessary.

Morpher saluted clumsily, and blushed as he was almost afraid it had come across as a little mockish, which was not necessarily his intent.

He then turned to the first mate, and growled at her. She returned a churlish, but knowing smile. Finally, without looking the man in the eyes, Morpher stabbed the soup spiller in the arm with his pen. The little man squealed in indignation at the attack. "Ow," he said. "Captain!" He pointed at Morpher with a shaky, accusatory finger.

As if to quash any security threats, the Captain himself grabbed his passenger by the arm, and escorted the man down the ramp. Bending close to Morpher's ear, however, he said, cryptically, "The universe is in your debt."

Morpher stared at him. "For stabbing the soup spiller?"

The Captain laughed, and shook his head. He then turned and quickly trotted back up the ramp into the docking bay. Once Morpher was safely on the planet's surface, the Captain announced, (this time for everyone to hear): "We really hate to rush you off like this, but we've got to...er, pick up a big...something...at another place!"

The three officers bowed at this sentiment, which seemed to trigger the big doors of the ship to close.

"What place?" Morpher shouted after them. However, as the aforementioned big doors of the ship were old and rusty, this made communication difficult. He thought he could almost make out the Captain saying "Anywhere but here," before all sound was blocked out entirely.

The engines immediately began to roar and burn, making aglow the surrounding landscape for miles. Morpher was barely able to run to a safe distance before the massive metal hulk burst from the ground into the atmosphere. Lonely, and a little frightened, he watched the ship lift off like an erupting volcano, spewing forth its acrid flames, and flying off into space far from Morpher's near-sighted view.

"Well," he said, cracking his neck, "I suppose now I'm here." He looked upon the desolation into which he had just been deposited. There were no land markings that he could see, with the exception of a single two-foot-high rock sitting amongst a littered plain of one-foot-high rocks. "Wherever here is."

It was at this moment that Morpher suddenly realized that he knew very little about this barren, seemingly uninhabited planet, or really even his reasons for being there. Fanstergrantz soil was red and uncaring without vegetation or wildlife. For all intents and purposes, it appeared a dead world. It’s single mark in the positive column -- although this would still have to be determined -- was that Morpher wasn't currently gasping for air.

Why would King Gavery send him here? Perhaps there was some offensive slight which had led to this punishment? A missed bow; a laugh unmarried to a witticism.

He sat on the ground. I would do anything for my king, he thought. But I'm no assassin. And surely there is no one living thing on this planet to be assassinated. Fruitlessly, he stared at his environment as if for some movement, or any indication even which way he should start walking. After several hours had passed without revelation, Morpher placed his hands over his eyes and he began to cry.

“Some assassin,” he thought. “Blubbering away like a child.”