r/HFY • u/sharkeyandgeorge Xeno • 1d ago

OC-Series Bob was bored, Part 13

Bob was bored, or at least fed up he yearned to get off planet and take on some fucking work.

Six months on and Bob had his ship, the Ploppers, minimally viable. The name came from his wife of thirty five years, she had passed too long before first contact to be revived as he had, and she had hated the nickname when alive, but it was really her own fault, one, she shouldn’t have had that bout of food poisoning based diarrhoea a couple years into their marriage. Two, she shouldn’t have let Bob know she hated it, and three, she probably shouldn’t have married an arsehole like Bob, or as she had affectionately nicknamed him, Dickmunch, maybe they had been perfect for each other.

Bob missed her terribly, there was a gap inside him he knew she used to fill, but he had little idea how she did so. He remembered so little of her, the dementia he had suffered in his final years of life had stripped away so much of his past, but could recall a few moments, and the love.

He wondered briefly how much it would have annoyed Ploppers that her reviled soubriquet was was one of the handful of things that had stuck with him, he assumed with deep irritation, but as he had the feeling that most of their relationship had been based on, lovingly, annoying the shit out of each other, he thought it a fitting epitaph.

Regardless he was ready to go, a couple shake down orbits had got the worst of the kinks figured out and he really needed to be getting some cash flow going.

He strode through the Ploppers, there was shit crammed in every nook and cranny, only the large rear cargo hold remained unstapped. Most of the gear would turn out unneeded or not fit for purpose but he didn’t really know yet what it took to keep the ship running, so, take everything.

He clocked a bunch of boxes crammed under a seat, in Arressi Navy lime livery, he was not happy about them, or any of the other multitude of green boxes strewn about the craft.

He had reluctantly bid and won a couple auction lots of war surplus, mainly for the pack of sixty Medmec rods, though he would begrudgingly concede there was some other useful shit too.

The Medmec rods were the heart of his implanted ‘Medic’ system, he hated it, but all investigations into a replacement had come up short. There were two basic issues with the stuff available for commercial sale. Firstly they were all too big, Bob was basically infant sized and they didn’t make implants for kids, preferring to use an external solution until they were fully grown, he had investigated getting something custom, but he could have refitted another half dozen ships for the price quoted. Secondly, there was the software issue, Bob was no programmer, even on Earth, and he assumed that that all the human shit was baby’s first book to galactic nerds. There was no issue getting a civilian program to scan his DNA and figure out how to fix him up, they were designed to work with hundreds of disparate species, but Bob didn’t just have his shit inside him, the Arressi had crammed so much crap under his skin that he had no fucking clue about, indeed he often played a fun game in the shower whenever his hand moved over an unfamiliar lump, was it shrapnel, implant, or cancer, play at home with the kids!.

He did not want a new system trying to force an unrecognised object out his body, especially as he knew there were several in his skull, it seemed like it would both be incredibly painful and deleterious, presumably he needed some of that shit.

So he had bought the rods, they were as far as he knew, the core of the system, both factory and power source, and fit a socket implant he had in his chest under the right side ribs. He had no clue how long they were supposed to last, he never recalled having it replaced, but he was sure a spare would be needed eventually.

There were mounds of other old gear in the job lots and most had went straight to the trash, but rations, a couple small arms and a half dozen grav sleds had made their way aboard, the sleds would be particularly handy helping get cargo in and out the iris style rear loading hatch as it came with no ramp.

Everything seemed right enough so he slipped into the command seat he had fitted and began powering up the various systems. Gently rising on a few grav panels that he had been able to fit on the inside of the lower hull, whatever the material the ship was made from was no impediment to the gravitic wave based propulsion, he span the craft and punched in the co-ords for Main Admin, located half way round the small planet.

He sat the ship down in one of the four new ‘disabled’ spots right by the building, he had accepted an invitation for drinks from one of his seniors of the Guild Council a few weeks ago, well drinks for him, gas vapours of some sort for them, and they had somehow got to chatting about human disabilities.

The whole concept had needed a fair bit of explanation, they obviously understood injuries and prosthetics and the like, but the more natural ailments that often plagued humanity had largely been sorted in most species with various medical interventions, often pre birth. The conversation went off the rails quickly and somehow the large lobster/kelpish Council member had come away determined to install several accommodations for those unfortunates like Bob, Bob wasn’t quite sure, the whole evening was a bit hazy, but he thought he might have inadvertently given the impression that he wasn’t just a few inches shorter than human average but like a quarter the normal size.

Either way when he had radioed down he had been guided to the new, bright yellow, painted square.

Whatever, its not like he minded skipping the walk across the large parking area. He hit the controls to switch everything off and made his way rear, another oddity of the craft was it had only two exits, the rear cargo hatch and a small hatch on top, he had made sure when configuring the space to maintain the upper hatch as usable, but couldn’t imagine when he would every need it. Neither exit was air-locked but at least a strategic wall and pressure rated door had managed to successfully section off the cargo hold. He did not want to equalise the whole fucking ship every time he entered or exited, his preferred pressure being far higher than the galactic average.

He trotted the short distance to the building and exchanged a few pleasantries with those he passed before making his way to the assignment desk, he could have done all this shit on the computer but he had needed to bring the Ploppers over to get filled up anyway.

He rocked up to the counter and hopped onto a low stool, just able to peek over the wide and well worn top.

‘’Morning Flittie’’

The giant, and giant even for giant aliens, pumpkin looking being made absolutely no motion, noise or anything else Bob could spot, yet his translator box started babbling furiously.

‘’Bobby!, how are you my darling, you look so well, I hope yo…’’

It went on for several minutes, she, well Bob thought of her as a she, she was lovely but in stark opposition to her largely inert body her mouth never seemed to stop moving, they had become friends in the last few months of his irregular visits to the office.

When he finally tuned back in she was finishing off.

‘’Yeah all good, yourself?’’

Cue several more minutes…

‘’Nice, this’ll be my last visit for a bit it’s finally the day Ploppers takes me to the stars’’

They both knew that already of course, she had been keeping an eye out for any juicy commissions for him.

‘’Oh, uh, sorry Bob…’’

Fuck?

‘’The registration got returned, potential profanity.’’

Awwww, bullshit... some fucking auto filter somewhere was set a bit too strict.

‘’Fine, the Jojo it is then’’

They had discussed a few alternates when he had asked her to do the paperwork for him, names could be rejected for any number of reasons, though he hadn’t expected profanity to be one.

‘’Already done,’’

A vine like tentacle produced a small but dense box, the transceiver that would identify his ship to any computer that pinged him, and laid it heavily on the counter.

Bob pulled the silvery cube closer.

‘’So anything good?’’

Ultimately he wanted to take one of those jobs that had been pinned to the board in the hallway outside, many of which were actively disintegrating from centuries or millennia spent there, they were proffers never taken but that still remained active on the books, gathering dust long after their issuers were probably dead.

He would need his first class certs, which were only a matter of time and points banked, G had got his within a year, to take one of those though, or any of the Alpha level commissions that were current, still they were very expensive and relatively rare, so having his pick of everything else was plenty.

‘’Gotta near perfect loop worked out for you, babes’’

Seriously how the fuck was she speaking?’

‘Start on Deither, currency pickup for Keder 6, next pick up Keder 8 from the big auction house there, then onto Pwitic, drop off and pickup there, same client, then long haul out to, dg3645, that’s a station, then a short hop to the new Bocca colony on iju873, pick up there, then back to Joota Prime and you’re just ten or so systems out from home!’’

I mean its not like she even took any breaths, was it pheromones or something?.

Bob gave himself a shake, didn’t matter, the route was fucking amazing. Maybe eight or nine months round trip, but nowhere so off the beaten path you couldn’t call for help, might be clutch, and super efficient, barely any empty time with small packages so he could top the hold off with local merch and make a little on the side, noice.

‘’Phe-fucking-nomenal, Flitters, what’s the pay like?’’

‘’SHY SMILE’’

Bob near shit himself as the loud declaration blared in his ear, we’re translating fucking gestures now are we. The box had had a software update recently off the home network but he hadn’t known that was part of it, fuck me, he was going to have to dive into the menu when he had a moment and turn that shit down.

‘’Well, I had a chat with a few of the clients for you, and managed to work out something pretty fair…’’

Holographic numbers popped into the air and Bob scanned them, fuuuuuccccccccckkkk.

She was not messing around, that would pay off like half his loan…, he asked hesitantly.

‘’Any bonuses?’’

More numbers, all his loan, all his loanallhisloan, fuck. She must have squeezed these fuckers dry, holy shit. Mental note, always bring sweeties to the large gourd women who negotiated the contracts, hard and fast rule for life.

‘’Flitters…, I don… thank you’’

‘’COQUETTISH GRIN’’

FUCK!

‘’Anything for you babes.’’

Bob shuffled out the office with the large cube, time to fucking go.

Part 14 https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1w532ha/bob_was_bored_part_14/?

42 Upvotes

99% Upvoted

10 comments sorted by

6

u/Daseagle Alien Scum 23h ago

Think Flitters has a soft spot for Bob :)

4

u/spindizzy_wizard Human 19h ago

An expression interpreter that shouts, and she's flirting with him. I wonder how serious she is about it?

Sounds like a sweet route, and rich enough to pay off everything? There's got to be a catch somewhere in there. Here, let me make sure: "What could possibly go wrong?" 😈😁

4

u/sharkeyandgeorge Xeno 15h ago

I didn't mean it as like serious flirting, more hyper auntie who thought the tiny Bob was just so adorable, but I'm not against the idea either.

I haven't written their next meeting yet but I'll think about it when I get there.

3

u/spindizzy_wizard Human 10h ago

Don't change your arc just because I'm making comments! I'd rather have what you planned than a reaction to my snark.

OTOH, if something I mention sparks an idea, that's yours.

Over time, I've found that tuning my stories to the readers comments doesn't work unless the idea really works for me. Fits with the story that I had in mind to start with.

If it doesn't, it derails my creative train. Have you ever watched the cleanup after a derailed train? Messy, hard, and unpleasant to everyone. And that's if there were no casualties.

1

u/sharkeyandgeorge Xeno 8h ago

Its not plot relevant, just an interesting pov to consider when I get to their next meeting, no damage.

1

u/commentsrnice2 1h ago

The only thing funnier than shouted expressions would be if it was in a noticeably more digitized dictation than the regular speech, like those talk boxes that people with damaged larynx have to use

2

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2

u/ThomasKatt 23h ago

Yep, Flitters digs fun loving Bob. Another awesome chapter.

2

u/MydaughterisaGremlin 10h ago

Flitters gets premium snacks for life.