by M. D. Cooper
Gordon returned with the others, covered in black spots where blaster bolts had smoldered on the surface of his costume. “I don’t think they’ll try again after that, they’re retreating. Come on, let’s get to the elevator. This Bargland guy, how badly does he want you killed?”
“He really wants us dead. This is the second time he’s attacked us,” Milton said, still breathing heavily from all the running. “Come on, let’s get going, I can’t breathe with all this ozone and the smell of that costume. Gesh, it smells like it’s still cooking.”
“It probably is,” Gordon admitted. “Glad to see it was worth reinforcing the costume with a metric pepperoni ton of nanomesh. Never thought it would come in handy, but holy galactic salami did it do the trick,” Gordon said.
It was apparently too much for Milton and he fixed a challenging glare at the overcooked vat rat. “Why do you say the things you do? Why couldn’t you just say a metric ton of nanomesh? Why does it always have to be about preserved meats, which frankly aren’t even that good?”
“Don’t you ever insult my culture,” Gordon shouted, poking Milton in the chest with a furry, costumed finger.
Krample sighed, stepping between the two men. “Come on, guys. Get along, we need to focus. Milton, don’t bring up his culture again. Gordon, try not to talk about pepperoni, salami, or any similar meat as much, it’s kinda weird, Milton does have a point.
Xallia’s phone buzzed as they ran and she checked it—there were new developments in what was now being called the Great Galaxmas Heist. Krample Co was set to do an interview with the Galactic News Network tomorrow evening to discuss the implications of their products being stolen, what they expected to happen to Galactic Claus, and whether or not the Jolian government had contacted them to become the new Galactic Claus if the previous contract fell apart, which it was looking like that would be the case.
6
“Come on, Milton, it’s not that bad of a costume,” Xallia urged.
“Why can’t Gordon be Peppy Pepperoni?” Milton wailed.
“I told you, Milton, the costume doesn’t fit me. It’s a better fit for your tall build,” Gordon said. “Besides, do you really want to be Chunky Cheddar with the costume looking like this?” he pointed to the blast marks all along the surface of the face. “I’m Crispy Cheddar now.” Despite loving pepperoni more than anything in the galaxy, Gordon didn’t want to wear the Peppy Pepperoni costume again for the foreseeable future. And it made sense that Xallia got to be Melly Moose, the only female character.
“Fine,” Milton grumbled, taking the costume and dragging it into the small bathroom in the Chunky Cheddar’s catering cruiser.
“I bet you’re going to look super cute in that Melly Moose costume, Xallia,” Gordon said, giving the attractive woman his best smile. She managed a smile, but it was clear to him she wasn’t interested.
“Milton, would you rather be Melly Moose? I’ll be Peppy Pepperoni if it would be better for you,” she offered.
“No, it’s okay. My costume smells weird and you shouldn’t have to deal with that,” Milton called from the other side of the door.
“Why does it smell weird, Gordon?”
Gordon grimaced. “That’s on me, actually. Some kid decided to use Peppy Pepperoni as target practice to impress some of his friends at his birthday party—maybe there was a ticket bet at stake, I’m not sure. He threw an entire pizza at the guy wearing the costume and scored a direct, critical hit. Man, that kid could throw. You should have seen that puppy fly through the air, it was incredible.”
“And you didn’t clean it?” Xallia asked, looking at Gordon with disbelief.
He shook his head. “Never got around to it, I guess. That employee quit after that, and he was the only one who wore that costume, really. It’s the older version of Peppy Pepperoni. We had some… complaints about the costume. Corporate updated it an all, but I decided to put the old one to good use and make a powerful suit of armor. If I didn’t, it would have just been thrown away or floated.”
“And you’re telling me you went through the process of reinforcing it with nanomesh without cleaning it?”
Gordon shook his head. “The nanomesh was added before that. I would have cleaned it if I was adding the mesh after the pizza incident.”
“I see,” Xallia said.
“I don’t want to come out,” Milton said.
“Come on, Milton, show us your costume,” Gordon said. “I need to know it fits for tactical purposes.”
Milton trudged out of the bathroom wearing the Peppy Pepperoni costume. The costume was one massive rod of pepperoni curved outward at the bottom, and the creepy smile and giant cartoon eyes weren’t helping his case. It reminded Gordon why corporate had replaced the costume in the first place. Xallia laughed, turning away and covering her face, as Milton moved the awkward shape through the small space of the catering shuttle.
“Oh, yes. That fits you well,” Gordon said, doing his best to keep a straight face and somehow succeeding. “They won’t suspect a thing.”
Milton huffed. “It doesn’t fit me well. I look like a giant—”
“Milton, Gordon, Xallia, come in! This is Krample. I’m approaching the hyperlane to Hilthe, are you still en route? Everything clear on your side?” his voice broke over comms, interrupting Milton.
“Krample, this is Gordon, we’re still en route and on time to arrive just before you. About to get the plasma ovens cooking pizza then we’ll get em’ boxed up for delivery. I hope this Galactic Claus guy is hungry. The costumes are great. Xallia is about to try hers on, but I’ll send you a picture of Milton as Peppy Pepperoni. You’re going to love this.”
Gordon took out his phone and snapped a picture before Milton could maneuver his way back to the restroom.
“HAHAHAHAHAH!” Krample erupted into laughter. “Oh my Gesh, this is going on my galaxmas card. HAHAHAH!” Krample was hysterical, unable to control his laughing. This time, Gordon wasn’t able to keep a straight face and joined in the laughter. Even Xallia had to turn away to hide her amusement, clearly not wanting to upset Milton.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. This is Gordon’s fault that he couldn’t pick a better costume to armor,” Milton said.
“Oh my Gesh, you look like a giant—” Krample started.
Milton punched the mute button on the comms dashboard, silencing his voice.
Gordon undid it, but Krample was still laughing. “Okay, okay. We’ve had our laugh at Milton’s expense. Let’s finalize the plan, please. We’re going to need to silence comms twenty minutes before we arrive. We’ll have our encrypted channel ready to go, but you need to be ready for the distinct possibility that this Galactic Claus won’t be thrilled to see you and might even want to hurt you.”
“I’m aware of that. If it looks like it’s getting dicey, I’ll get out or explain that I’m no longer in control of Krample Co. Either way, we’ll have you on backup if we need to blast our way out. And needless to say, if we lose the Chunky Cheddar catering cruiser in the process, I’m sure your corporate office will replace it. Update me if anything changes.”
“Will do,” Gordon replied. “Fly safe.”
They broke the connection and focused on flying the cruiser.
“Now what?” Xallia asked.
“I’m going to get some pizzas going. Xallia, you need to put on your Melly Moose costume to be sure it fits, then both of you are going to learn the Chunky Cheddar Crew Dance. We have a soundtrack and everything—you’re going to love it.”
“I’m not dancing in this,” Milton stated in a flat voice.
“The Chunky Cheddar Crew Dance is a standard inclusion of any Chunky Cheddar catering package. You’re going to dance,” Gordon said. “Or would you rather blow our cover and possibly ruin the mission?”
“Look, Gordon. This costume is bad enough. We all know what I look like, and it isn’t preserved meat. That’s going to be even worse if I dance in this thing. I know why your corporate office banned thi
s costume, it’s the worst design I’ve ever seen. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t have any litigation suits on your hands for emotional trauma when people watched someone dance in this thing. If you hadn’t already, this costume would ruin pepperoni for me for the rest of my life.”
“That’s a little harsh,” Gordon said, still laughing on the inside while feigning hurt on the outside. It was petty revenge, but this was good payback for all the offhanded slants Milton had cast at him over the years. They didn’t like one another, but this felt like it was starting to make all the shix he had endured from Milton over the years worth it.
Xallia actually made a pretty cute Melly Moose. The costume was a little baggy on her slender frame, but she wore it well. Of the group consisting of a relatively cute moose, a charred vat rat, and an unfortunately shaped rod of pepperoni, Xallia had the least embarrassing costume.
Gordon was content with the arrangement. “Okay, now you two need to go practice the Chunky Cheddar Crew Dance while I get some pizzas cooking. We’ll keep navigation on automatic in case that crappy investor dude sent more goons after us. I can almost guarantee there are no stow-away fighters on Circle-S, though. For the most part, the station is locked down pretty tight.”
***
After nearly an hour of fumbling through the Chunky Cheddar Crew Dance, which Milton was convinced was the most horrible thing he had ever learned, they were nearly ready and on track to arrive on Hilthe within the hour. Gordon hadn’t known how many pizzas to make—or even how many people would be eating at the meeting between Krample and Galactic Claus, so he had over prepared and cooked up almost fifty pizzas with the full suite of Chunky Cheddar toppings.
The smell was overpowering, and the air seemed to be getting thicker, even though the ship’s specialized environment system kept the air relatively cool based on the fact there were six high-powered plasma ovens burning in the kitchen.
“Put your hips into it, Milton,” Gordon called, watching Xallia and Milton go through the dance on their own without the instruction video this time. Milton struggled to move the bulk of the costume. It wasn’t balanced well, and everytime he thrust his hips—and the curved bottom portion of the pepperoni forward—he had to pull back to keep from flipping onto his back which had already happened twice, much to Gordon’s amusement.
“We’re here for a good time, we have some good pizza, and if you booked our premium package, we have some arcade games you can play, too,” Milton sang along with the music, somewhat off-key. He honestly couldn’t believe how bad the lyrics were—either the Chunky Cheddar’s corporate office had created the song and dance without spending any credits, or they had gotten an insanely bad deal on the entropist who had designed the blasted thing. Advertising an upsell to clients which had presumably already paid for the catering services? Unbelievable.
“Just wait until you put our pepperoni in your mouth!” Xallia shouted with the music, crossing her feet in a complex pattern as she jumped to the beat.
On que, Milton jumped forward, executing a quick spin dance move and raising both hands. The lyrics were actually the worst and were nowhere near kid friendly with all the blatantly obvious innuendos. Even with the updated Peppy Pepperoni costume, it would still be suggestive at best. Milton sighed, jumping back in line with Xallia and returning to the standard dance while the music played.
“It’s pizza time! Hrraaaah!” Xallia shouted, finishing the song before both of them broke into their finishing poses. Xallia had her arms stretched out in a ‘yeah, I’m awesome’ pose, while Milton stood leaning back with his arms folded across his body, trying not to feel like a giant space dong.
“Oh, that was great. Very well done. A truly professional production,” Gordon commented. “Milton, you were a little off key when you advertised our platinum package. We don’t have any games, and we told Galactic Claus this catering was comped, but it’s in the tune and you need to sing it.”
“Seriously? Those can’t be the real lyrics. Are you messing with us?” Milton asked.
Gordon shook his head, grimacing. “I really wish I was. Believe me, I know it’s bad, but we need to throw an authentic production. Even if that does include suggestive remarks about putting our meat into our guests’ mouths.”
“This was really signed off on by corporate?” Xallia asked.
“Yeah, it was. And I’m pretty sure they paid billions of credits to have it made, too. It might get updated, but profits for the franchise are good, and this is actually above my pay grade.”
“Chunky Cheddar catering cruiser, this is Krample, are we still good to proceed? I’ll be landing on Hilthe within two hours.”
“We’re still good to go, Krample. We’re landing in the next forty-five minutes,” Gordon reported.
“We just learned the Chunky Cheddar Crew Dance,” Milton said, still panting for breath. Even if it was a horrible song with the worst lyrics ever written, Milton couldn’t argue that it was a good workout, even if it was somewhat difficult to breathe in the costume. He desperately wished the head of the costume would come off. It was crappy design at best, and grievous evil at worst. The Chunky Cheddar costume and Melly Moose both had removable heads, but the body of Milton’s Peppy Pepperoni costume was designed as one piece, separate only from the nanomesh sleeves and leggings which were a lot scratchier than he had expected.
“Milton, you sound like a creepy uncle when you’re breathing like that. Don’t do that. See you in a couple hours. Good luck,” Krample said.
“Sire—” Milton started, but the connection was already broken before he could explain himself. He did sound like a creepy uncle, and the worst part was that he looked even creepier than he sounded.
“Everyone buckle up, we’re only a couple minutes from atmosphere. About to turn the aGrav off everywhere except for the kitchen and pizza retainers,” Gordon said, taking his seat and strapping himself in.
With some difficulty, Milton buckled himself into his chair just as the catering cruiser hit Hilthe’s atmosphere. The initial jolt of impact sent Milton’s head surging forward and slamming into the surprisingly rigid costume. He huffed in pain and tried to adjust his hand as they cratered toward the snowy surface of the remote, utterly unpopulated planet toward a geographic ping marker supplied by Galactic Claus. In a few short minutes, they were going to meet the man—even if they were in costume and would have to do a super cringy dance.
***
Galactic Claus watched from his festive desk as one of his E.L.F. bots amplified the image of the Chunky Cheddar catering cruiser as it raced across the snowy surface of the planet, several thousand feet above the ground. Galactic Claus took solace in the beauty of Hilthe each and every day, it reminded him why he did this and why he chose this planet to host his operations. This always had been about the people—and that wasn’t going to change now, he would do everything in his power to make things right.
He took a sip of his cocoa, thoughtfully chewing on a marshmallow as he considered what he would say to Mr. Krample. He had no idea who had stolen all the Krample Co products and why, he only knew he had nothing to do with it. His own Galactarex 405 had disappeared—replaced by with the note that framed him. Whoever this thief was, they were incredibly resourceful and had utilized technology he hadn’t even known existed.
“Galactic Claus, sir,” M.O.L said, rolling into his office on its single tire. The robot, decorated in festive Galaxmas colors and brilliant lights, was his trusted assistant, one of his best creations ever.
“Yes, Mol?” he answered, looking up from his desk with tired eyes.
“The Chunky Cheddar catering crew will be here momentarily, and it appears Krample will arrive within the next hour. Have you decided on which tie you’d like to wear?”
“The one with the peppermint swirls,” Galactic Claus said, standing from his desk and walking over to M.O.L so the robot could tie his tie, completing what was a rather festive Galaxmas suit.
“Is everything okay?” M.O.L a
sked.
“I suppose,” he replied. “I just don’t know what I’m going to tell this nice man. He obviously believes I’m responsible for what could be the financial ruin of his company. I know he’s been trying to win the bid for my job for years, but that’s just business. He has every reason to suspect me for this, and it’s going to be very difficult for me to convince him otherwise. I want to help him figure out who is responsible for this and maybe offer to share a portion of this year’s Galaxmas contracts, if the Jolian government doesn’t pull the rug out from under us, of course.”
“Just explain the facts. I’ll help you prove the technical details of how we aren’t responsible. Regardless, you don’t owe this man anything,” M.O.L said.
“I know that. He’s never gotten a Galaxmas present from me. Ever. And that isn’t my fault, but he was on the naughty list up until the point he started running his own business. At that point, once he submitted his company’s bid to become Galactic Claus, he automatically lost the right to a yearly Galaxmas present.”
“Well, that isn’t your fault, either.”
“Thank you, M.O.L. I’ve never tried this Chunky Cheddar’s pizza before, but it looks like they have some pretty creepy mascots. One of them even looks like a giant—”
“The Chunky Cheddar crew just arrived, sir,” M.O.L interrupted. “Why don’t you head to the boardroom and I’ll get them situated in the kitchen. They said they would have all the pizzas cooked fresh on their way here, but I’ll make sure they don’t need anything. Do you have any other special requests for the meeting with Krample?”
“Yes, actually. Bring me a wrapped Ultra-Mega-Ultimate Galaxmas present for him, it’s the least I can do, and I want to make sure he gets the first present of the year.”
M.O.L nodded and rolled off to greet the catering crew, leaving Galactic Claus on his own to prepare for the meeting.
***
As the ramp of the Chunky Cheddar’s catering cruiser deployed, a blustery wind blasted over Xallia and cut through the thick hide of the Melly Moose costume. There were strange looking robots on the frozen landing platform and they were rolling toward them.