Action Pulp!

At the time of telling of this story, several events had changed and several of the people listed may have been renamed for a lack of empirical or historical evidence. What is known are the general recollections of Thaddeus Alexander Riddle, aka “Tex” Riddle. The setting is a premise for the rest of the adventures, which are to be taken with a grain of salt, as the old Earth expression says.

…

The thick humid air settled in Tex Riddle’s lungs as he boarded the Jules Verne. As the ship’s Chief Librarian, it was his job to ensure the data collected from the mission was logged correctly and transmitted back to Earth in regular intervals. Although he was classified as a librarian, everyone on board was a qualified pilot. They had to be in case any issues arose where someone would need to pilot the ship.

“All systems are ready Captain,” Boyd said. 

Captain Johnson sat at the helm, strapped into her seat just as the rest of the four-person crew. She never liked the few minutes of butterflies in her stomach before any mission launch. “Acknowledged. Houston, The Jules Verne is ready for launch. Permission to launch requested.”

The air crackled as the face on the monitor appeared. The screen blipped. Johnson tapped on the screen figuring it was transmission lag. “Repeat that last communication, Houston.”

“You are clear to launch.”

“Acknowledged.” Johnson muted her mic. 

“Today we make history. We will be the first humans to travel to Jupiter and land,” Captain Johnson said, clearing her throat a bit.

The crew cheered, except for Riley, who remained quiet.

“What is the matter, Riley? Cat got your tongue?” Johnson asked.

Riley shrugged. She made the sign of the cross and prayed. “Nothing Commander.”

Johnson turned the microphone back on. “Houston, please initiate the countdown.”

“10, 9, 8,”

Riley opened her eyes from prayer. She mouthed “Amen.”

“5, 4, 3…”

Johnson moved the throttle forward.

“2, 1, launch.”

The engines roared underneath them as they jettisoned into space at the rate of 7.9 kilometers per second to reach orbital velocity.

That was the last time they or anyone would see Earth again.

…

“Sir, we are approaching the Myloviar Belt,” Nalla said. 

Riddle punched several buttons and flipped several switches. He was good at flipping things when he was panicking, although the buttons he pushed and the switches he flipped were mostly to the auditory and lighting systems. He left the navigation to Nalla, especially considering he was a librarian displaced three thousand and forty-two years from his birth.

“You got the helm Nalla. I don’t like the looks of those asteroids. Can you do something about them?”

Although she was a capable and experienced navigator, all things considered, Tex Riddle felt the butterflies swimming about in his stomach.

“Do something? I can’t make them disappear Captain. Just relax, I’ll get us through this like I always do,” Nalla said.

“Relax? How’s that supposed to work? If we get hit by an asteroid, this ship is done for.”

Tex had a justifiable sense of paranoia considering the original Jules Verne had been blown up by a planetary sized cigar shaped asteroid demolished most of the Milky Way galaxy. Luckily the crew was able to use the cryopods to escape, but it was too late for anyone on Earth. Or so they thought.

Nalla looked at Tex. “I understand your concerns Captain. I am more than capable of navigating the ship to Entok.”

Tex took a deep breath. Life had not been easy the last five years since being picked up by a mining ship.

“Ok Nalla, just get us through this mess. We need to pick up the second cargo shipment so we can get going on the mission.”

“Aye aye Captain,” Nalla said.

The Jules Verne sailed across the ocean of asteroids for several hours. The frigate class spaceship was outfitted with weaponry and speed, perfect for sort of missions Tex Riddle and the crew undertook. Even if ole Tex was a bit jumpy around asteroids, Nalla had nerves of Kronar steel.

Tex flipped on the game-prompter and began playing Bloppy, the space block game. Barry patched into the screen.

“Howdy partner,” Barry said.

“I told you never to patch into my game. Now it won’t save and I had just hit level 16. Thanks a lot Barry.”

“My apologies Tex, but you may want to take a look at the engineering department. Stuff is smoking left and right, and I am not a space engineer,” Barry said.

“Can’t you take care of it? I mean you are supposed to be the universe’s most dynamic biomolecular android, aren’t you? What good is it if you can’t interface with a few computers and get the engines to calm down.”

“Who boy, I wish it was that easy Captain. You are correct. I am the universe’s most dynamic biomolecular android, in fact, as far as I know, I am the only biomolecular android in the the known universe, but I’m still holding out there is someone out there in the wide-open space just for me. Even with that said, I can’t repair something that is not biological in nature. I can interface with you and scrub your mind clean as a whistle, but a blown engine diode is out of my league. You need to get down here now.”

Tex flipped the gameprompter screen down and put it on the table next to the captain’s chair. He sat there thinking for a minute. Thinking captain’s things in the captain’s chair. “How did I end up over three thousand years in the future and on a shipwreck like this?”

Tex opened the door to Engineering and a cloud of dark gray oily smoke billowed out, covering him in. He coughed loudly and covered his mouth, taking a deep breath before going in.

“There you are,” Barry said.

“How is the smoke not bothering you?” Tex asked.

Barry kicked his feet off the desk and sat up. “When you are good like me, you don’t worry about smoke and mirrors.”

“Well, I don’t see any mirrors, but I do see a lot of smoke, and a big joker,” Tex replied.

Barry brushed his shoulder off. “Takes a lot of practice to get on my level Tex.”

Tex gave Barry a side eye and looked around the engineering cabin. He saw smoke rising from on the electrical panels. He grabbed the suction handle and pushed down hard on the panel, lifted it up. Sparks flew out at him. 

“Looks like a space rat had chewed into one of the lines, and caught fire,” Tex said. “Make yourself useful and get me the fire extinguisher.”

“Where is Sammy?” Tex asked Barry. 

Barry shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands up in the air. “Your guess is as good as mine boss. I have not seen him all day. I came here looking to talk with him for a few minutes and that is when I saw the smoke. Then I called you.”

Tex clicked his wrist communicator. “Come in Sammy. Report to Engineering.”

The comms were silent. 

Tex clicked the communicator again. “I repeat. Come in Sammy. Report to Engineering.”

Again, the comms were silent.

“Computer, locate Sammy,” Tex said.

“Unable to comply with your request sir,” the computer said.

Tex looked at Barry. Again, Barry shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands. Tex yelled. “Why can’t you comply with my direct order Computer?”

“Captain Riddle, I am unable to comply with your order to locate Chief Engineer Samuel El Jaxson because he is not on board the Jules Verne.”

“What do you mean he is not on board the Jules Verne? Where is he then?”

“Unable to determine his location.”

Just then the screen blipped. 

“I see you boys have been trying to locate me. Well, good luck,” Sammy said. “Don’t bother trying to trace me, this is a pre-recorded message. By the way, you’re welcome for the “rats” chewing through the cables. I kept telling you we had an infestation of those Felutian rats. No, you wouldn’t listen to me. Made me constantly piece together the ship with scrap parts.”

Tex looked at Barry. He clicked pause on the screen remote. “I know, I know, you have no clue, right?” he asked Barry.

Barry shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands.

“Not funny Barry.”

Tex clicked the pause button again to resume the video.

“Oh, and you can forget about ever seeing me again. If you come for me, I wish a Mutha Space Trucka would. Bunch of cockamamie space rat talk. Think I should have to fix all your nonsense just because I’m a licensed Space Engineer. Slag!”

“Consider this video my resignation. I quit!” Sammy said.

The video blipped out.

Tex looked at Barry. “Don’t do it. Don’t you do it.”

Barry slowly raised his shoulders to shrug them…

“Don’t you do it! I’m warning you,” Tex said.

Barry slowly raised his hands throwing them up in the air.

Tex threw the remote at the screen. “You and your jokes Barry! First El Jaxson quits on us. How are we going to find his replacement in time to get this load of books back to the Galactic Library Branch 219?”

Just then the screen blipped back on.

“Oh, and one last thing. Nothing is actually disabled. I set the engines to throttle down at the same time the smoker was set to go off. You can resume your normal speed again.”

“Gotcha!” Sammy started laughing hilariously. “Looks like I got the last laugh Tex Riddle. Oh, and for the next Engi who takes my place, you might want to warn them before someone really leaves you stranded on a collision course with an asteroid, or a supernova.”

The screen blipped again.

Barry started to shrug his…

THWACK! The remote bounced off Barry’s head.

“What? I’m just kidding Tex.”

Tex stormed out of the engineering cabin. “I’ll deal with you later. I’ve got stuff to take care of now.”

“Lighten up Tex, you take life too seriously,” Barry said. “It’s going to get the better of you if you don’t.”

PHATOOM! 

The ship jarred as the docking tube suctioned to its cold metallic exterior. The doors were locked, but that meant nothing to the pirates. They would have their bounty, regardless of who they had to take it from.

“Captain, we must arm ourselves and defend the Jules Verne,” said Nalla with the cold stare in her eyes. 

Tex sat in his captain’s chair with his feet propped up. What else could go wrong today? he thought. 

“Captain!” Nalla raised her firm voice calling for Tex’s attention. 

He waived a hand up in the air. “Nalla, stand down. We can’t win this fight, even if we tried.”

“But sir,” Nalla protested.

“Trust me on this one Nalla. Stand down. Keep your cool. We will make it out of this in one piece.”

A large burly cyborg flung the cabin door open. Wearing an old settler’s mining hat, he rolled the cigar around between his chrome robotic arm. He inhaled and blew out a large ring of smoke.

“You Tex Riddle?” the cyborg asked through gritted teeth now clinching the cigar. His skin was leathery and worn, barely tattered to the machinery underneath the surface. He had gone through so many upgrades, each time replacing more of himself with machinery, and each time keeping less and less of his humanity.

Solomon Jack was the most notorious book pirate in the quadrant, and the only one known for a particular hatred for librarians.

The librarians of Tex Riddle’s era blessed the world (Earth) with kindness and compassion, always ready to recommend a new book based on readers choices, carefully curating the works to inform, educate and entertain people. When the era of the information age slowly bled the publishers from printed works to digital only, curators like Tex Riddle had a special duty: ensure the world’s collected literature was protected and promenaded for the next generation, and a thousand generations to come. No story left untold was their motto.

Unfortunately, Earth was extinct, and as the only human left alive in a universe of aliens, Tex found both joy and irony in being the last human storyteller alive, though he never considered himself a storyteller, but an avid reader. As the last human librarian, he found little solace in the fact that secretly other alien species had been curating works from Earth much like a museum piece. The only thing that made the Earth items rare was the fact the Earth was shattered into a million pieces.

Still yet, Tex tried to find the humor in the situation.

“Mighty fine reflection you have there Tater Tot,” Tex said.

“What is a tater tot?” Solomon asked.

“You know, a tater tot? Don’t tell me you don’t know what a tater tot is? Fancy and distinguished gentleman you are.”

Solomon Jack grabbed his cigar and and brushed off his shoulders. He looked at the other pirates standing behind him, who peered back questioning the mental prowess of their fearless leader. 

See the thing about pirates is they are not completely corrupt and evil. They enjoy parties, fine wine, lovemaking, and food. Oh my, the food. They could feast for days on the roast of a Prelevian marbidar (a rather large birdlike creature favoring a bird you know as an ostrich). They love loud tales, loud music, and even louder laughs coming from jokes. They especially love laughing at their own jokes. One thing they don’t like: being laughed at. 

In the Pirate code, being laughed at is a scorn on their reputation. Subject to the Pirate code, with penalty of death by duel, would that the perpetrator or purveyor of sorts of the joke at one’s expense neglect to land a proper and deadly shot with the mini-canon laser ball musket.

The other next to deadly infraction of the sort is the lack of intimation of proper etiquette in subject matter. Upon said challenge, the instigator must relinquish a parlay of favor to the winner of the challenge, no questions asked, and with the utmost courtesy and grandiose respect. 

In this case, Tex Riddle has challenged Solomon Jack’s knowledge of a tater tot. Solomon Jack answered the call with an acknowledgment of a tater tot. 

“Of course, I know what a tater tot is,” Solomon Jack said bolstering his pride in front of his crew. They cheered him on. He quietly searched his database for the term “tater tot” rendering nothing. “If it is all the same to you, Tex Riddle, we are not here to talk about the intricacies of tater tot, as I am not a man of politics nor religion, especially when you combine the two.”

“Ah, so you do know what a tater tot is then?” Tex asked. Nalla looked confused. She had no clue what a tater tot was.

“Of course. It is a holy relic used by the reigning sovereign prime minister over a quadrant to keep the balance of power over his enemies, is it not?” 

Tex stood up from his chair. He leaned over, swooping one hand to his waist as he curtsied and bowed to Solomon Jack. “You, my good sir, have my interest. I challenge you to the rules of parlay, and my conditions are you must leave the ship, rendering no damage to my ship or her crew, should you fail the challenge. Do you accept?

Solomon’s eyes clicked and whirred as the red optic sensors focused on Tex Riddle. “Why of course. And should you lose?”

“If I lose, you get it all!” Tex answered.

“I accept,” Solomon Jack replied.

“Computer, what is a tater tot?” Tex asked.

A tater tot is an Earth delicacy made from shredded potatoes usually formed into a small round like disc or patty, then baked or fried.

“Computer, is a tater tot a holy relic used by the reigning sovereign prime minister over a quadrant to keep the balance of power over his enemies?” Tex asked.

No Captain. A tater tot is not a holy relic used by the reigning sovereign prime minister over a quadrant to keep the balance of power over his enemies.

Tex winked and smiled at Nalla. She would have smiled back, but Kronars were fierce warriors who could smile, but refused to do so on a basis of principle alone. 

Solomon Jack stood in silence. His pirates stood around him slack jawed, and avoiding eye contact. They knew him losing a parlay challenge of wits meant they could not plunder the ship as they wanted to.

“Fair enough,” Solomon Jack said. “But you cheated. This is your ship, and your computer, so you could have programmed it to say anything.”

“Oh, right. I could have programmed the computer to say anything, having fully known you were going to board my ship today, uninvited, and not to mention, you are one of the most wanted pirates in the quadrant. How about next time you send me an invitation to hijack our ship, and I’ll have tea and crumpets waiting on you.”

“Crumpets…” Solomon Jack asked. 

“Another parlay challenge? Do you accept?” Tex interrupted him.

“No!” Solomon Jack replied. He bit down cutting his cigar in half, with the smoking ember falling to the ground. He smashed his foot on it, putting out the smoking Disterian tobacco. 

“You win this time Tex. I’ll have you know, my crew already removed your precious cargo before you won parlay. So that is mine to keep. You can keep your ship and your crew, unharmed. Let’s go.” 

Solomon Jack turned around and walked out. “Be seeing you Tex!”

With Sammy El Jaxson gone, and Solomon Jack having taken their cargo, Tex Riddle and his crew were in quite a pickle. Tex sat alone in his Captain’s quarters thinking about captain’s things, in his most captainly way he could pose. He was a librarian, and just five years ago (to him) he was on a mission to Mars. 

Now the Earth was gone, he lost his engineer, his cargo, but at least he won Parlay. He smiled and reveled in thinking about how Solomon Jack lost the battle of wits.

Tater tots. Hah! Tex thought.

ZZZZTTTT.

ZZZZTTTT.

ZZZZTTTT.

The cabin buzzer refused to quiet down. Tex had turned the comms off.

“Go away.”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“I said go away!” Tex yelled.

A quiet lull answered him back. Tex kicked his feet up and turned the next page of his book. He saw his hands start to fade in and out!

“What the!” 

SWZZZZZZ.

The transporter scrambled Tex’s molecules. He reappeared in the shipping bay facing Nalla.

“Nalla! You are not authorized to transport me around like a piece of cargo. You could have killed me.”

Nalla looked at him. “You’re not dead.”

“That’s not the point,” Tex said. “System rules strictly forbid cargo transporters from being used for living beings. You know that.”

Nalla walked over to him, towering a foot above him. Tex looked up at her and wagged his finger in her face.

“You better have a good explanation for this Nalla!”

She leaned down coming within an inch of his face. “I do Captain Tex Riddle. Your presence is needed here in the cargo bay.”

“You could have just asked me,” he said.

“You turned the comms off.”

Tex took a deep breath. There was no winning with a Kronar when it came to reason. They were fiercely loyal, but also so hardheaded it made them seem difficult to deal with. 

“I performed an internal scan of the ship after Solomon Jack’s departure,” she said. “We are being watched. This is the only area of the ship that I can cancel the signal and that is only because of the transporter ionic wave beam.”

“Have you located the device?” Tex asked.

“Yes Captain.”

“Well, destroy it then!”

Nalla opened the viewscreen on her wrist device. She pointed to the little screen. “I would have already completed that task Captain; however, it is rigged to the ships engine compartment, and removal of the device will trigger an alarm, causing the engine’s Crystalline system to blow, destroying everything in a five light minutes area.”

Tex rubbed his forehead. This day kept getting worse and worse.

“Recommendations?” Tex asked.

Nalla walked over to the transporter and turned it on. This increased the ionic wave beam signal dampener in the room.

She walked back over to Tex. “I recommend we abandon ship, and head to the nearest inhabited planet and seek new transportation.”

“How do we do that without them knowing. The already must know you are on to them.”

“On to them?” Nalla looked confused.

“Sorry, old Earth saying. It means you are aware of their intentions,” Tex replied.

“I see. Strange idiom,” Nalla replied.

“Nalla!” 

“Yes Captain. Back to the matter at hand as you would say,” she replied. “I have come up with a plan of subterfuge where we use the solar flare of the CN-18 nebula star to block the signal, and we take the transporter craft. We rig the ship to blow just as it reaches the center of CN-18’s solar gravitational pull.”

“Barry aware of this?” Tex asked.

“He is preparing the craft now Captain.”

“When do you recommend, we leave?” 

“Now!” Nalla scooped Tex Riddle up and jumped onto the transporter pod.

Tex looked at his weary hands. Trembling. He did not want Nalla or Barry to see him in this condition. 

Some space man I am he thought.

He lingered back to his childhood, dreaming of going to Mars. Dreaming of cataloging new books about not only the expedition, but the people who made it happen. 

Tex was not easily shaken, but he could not stop trembling. He opened up his pocket and took out a small steel flask and took a drink of whiskey.

At least they still make Kentucky whiskey he thought as he took another swig. The alcohol burned as it went down his throat. 

“Now is not the time to drink Captain,” Nalla said. “We need you to have your wits about you, and imbibing excessive amounts of alcohol impacts your species in an adverse manner.”

Tex cleared his throat. “Ahem. I’m the Captain, Nalla. I just had a tickle in my throat, and the whiskey helps burn it out. That’s all.”

Nalla’s face held stern and uncaring. Tex had never successfully been able to read any emotion from her other than anger and apathy.

She held her hand out. 

Tex rolled away and put the flask back in his jacket pocket.

Nalla reached over and tapped Tex on the shoulder. She held her hand out.

“Can’t you just let me have one comfort in peace Nalla? Isn’t it enough that I am all alone here in the Universe?” Tex said.

Barry laughed. “What are we then? Chopped liver? To quote an earth saying. Quit being so ridiculous. Give Nalla the flask before she bends you into one of those pretzels you keep talking about.”

“Ah pretzels! I miss those the most, and bratwurst. You know I used to go to the Oktoberfest every year with my friends. We would sing and dance and listen to the Oompa Band.”

“Oompa Band,” Nalla asked, one eye perplexed and cocked upward. Tex had her now.

“Oh yah! We would dance, and eat, and drink. Remembering the olden days of our German ancestors and Vikings.”

Nalla sat down in the dilapidated leather yeoman’s chair. As the navigator, she rarely felt lost. 

“We too celebrated like that with a great feast of Kortok.” Her shoulders slumped and she stared away.

Tex knew he had messed up. He was not sure what triggered Nalla, but he knew he had to fix things and get right with her. He could not afford to lose his most loyal crew mate.

“Kortok. Sounds like a strong Kronar warrior’s name. Tell me about Kortok,” Tex said.

Nalla remained silent. She punched a few keys on the monitor. “Correcting course to avoid incoming space debris.”

Tex strolled over to the fourth chair, sitting directly behind Nalla. He was in arm’s reach of her but knew better than to touch her shoulder. 

He kicked his chair back and closed his eyes.

“I think I would sleep better if I had heard a bedtime story about Kortok. If you won’t tell me, then I will have to use my imagination to create a story.”

“Here lies the bones of the magnificent Kortok. Strangest and strongest warrior in the know Kronar realm. Strange because he never took a mate, strongest because he never lost in battle. Oh yes, Kronar was the man, he was.”

Nalla remained silent.

Tex tapped the back of her seat. 

“How am I doing?” he asked her.

Barry disengaged his interface. “I found an engineer. I’m still looking for a replacement ship. There might be one for sale by the time we reach Entok.” He stood up from the front seat and walked to the cabin door. “I need to do some work. I will be back. You two place nice.”

“Detecting a solar flare from the nearest red dwarf star. Correcting course to minimize radiation exposure,” Nalla said.

The door closed behind Barry. Tex made loud pretend snoring sounds. Soon he actually fell asleep dreaming of Kortok fighting in battle against large armies by himself. Then Kortok approached Tex and began speaking with him.

“Earthling. You are a master of books, are you not?” asked Kortok.

Tex answered “yes. I am a librarian.”

“I never learned to read. I never had the need.”

Tex objected. “Everyone should learn to read.”

Kortok laughed and set his heavy battle mace down and offered the handle to Tex to pick up.

Try as he might, Tex could not lift the mace. 

Kortok grabbed it with easy and threw it over his right shoulder.

Tex noticed his skin tone was not grey like Nalla’s. She was the only Kronar he had ever met, and they were known for their strength and fighting prowess.

Kortok’s skin was a deep tone of lavender. Although he wore a traditional Kronar warrior attire, his clothes looked functional, but not of any sort of regimented battalion. More like an operator.

Now Kortok was the second Kronar he had met, and Tex had no idea what to think about the Kronars. The only thing he knew was not to upset them unless he wanted to be squashed.

To be continued.

© 2026 Adam Messer. All rights reserved.

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