Chapter 1

      Meanwhile, Aboard the Blood Drive, Somewhere in Space...

      For the first time since leaving Hull, the Poison Nickels ate well. Packerhound had been true to his word; the Blood Drive--his ship--featured a cafeteria outfitted with nutrient generators that locked onto the biological signatures of almost any organism and synthesized food and beverages accordingly. The Ice Beetles sank their pincers into bite after bite of the most richly flavored leaves and bark they had sampled since leaving their home world.

      For nearly an hour nobody spoke. They just ate. Packerhound sat in a corner of the room, his arms crossed over his slight chest, smiling at the gusto his new guests displayed in consuming their meals. He waited until they were full and ready to talk.

      When it was time, Chi ordered the Poison Nickels to push their chairs into a half-circle around Packerhound. “First, I must thank you for the meal. I honestly haven’t tasted rug-weed like that since my aunt passed away,” Chi said.

      Packerhound giggled, rocking back in his chair. But a sudden change in Chi’s demeanor brought Packerhound around. Chi drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. The plight of Hull was difficult for him to recount. He thought about his loved ones left behind to fend for themselves in the haunted ice caverns of the Wastelands.

      Chi gathered himself and started into his story. He told Packerhound about the ancient war between the Voles and the Ice Beetles. He talked about his love for Tyche the God of Ice and how even in the face of so much tragedy, he hadn’t lost his faith. He told Packerhound about the Voles’ new weapon, the sonic thumper, and how it had changed the rules of survival for the Ice Beetles. Chi concluded by outlining the Poison Nickels’ objective to spread the story of their planet and the plight of their species to the furthest reaches of space in hopes that some alien race would find pity on them and come to their aid.

      When Chi finished, Packerhound--having listened in silence to Chi’s entire narrative--sat up tall in his chair and raised one finger. “I will help you,” he said. “What you need is gigs.”

      “What are gigs?” Gnasher asked.

      “A gig is when you get up on a stage in front of hundreds of howling fans and play your music.”

      “Can you get us these gigs?” Chi asked.

      “Gentlemen, and gentlewoman,” Packerhound acknowledge Goorn, the only female member of the Poison Nickels, with a kindly nod, “for the maleficent Gaar and his creature girlfriend, Iniad, I moved mountains, and that was under duress. Imagine what I can do for a cause that I believe in? And make no mistake, I believe in the Poison Nickels.”

      Chi shifted in his chair and flicked his spicules. “Gaar talked of an event called the Pan-Galactic Prom Show. Is this a gig?”

      Packerhound’s irregular mouth curled into a smile so large that it split his face in half. “The Pan-Galactic Prom Show is the gig of all gigs. Alien races gather from across the stars for the Prom Show’s celebration of pomp and magnitude. But, unless I am mistaken, the Prom Show will be headlined by none other than Bieber himself.”

      “Who is Bieber?” Stig asked.

      Packerhound’s brows arched up so profoundly that Stig thought the blue alien might be able to place something, perhaps a writing implement or a small bag of stones, behind the folds of skin in his forehead.

      “You don’t know who Bieber is?” Packerhound said. “He’s only the biggest music sensation to ever travel across the known galaxy. He came out of nowhere, from some obscure planet called Earth, and now he seems to have become music itself.”

      The Poison Nickels all looked at the floor, shrugs all around. “Are there any other entertainers slated to play the Prom Show?” Chi asked.

“Yes, another Earth act--Earth seems to be the current hot bed for music--a band of eight that calls themselves Funk Toast1--funk being a form of music, toast being a form of food, singed bread from what I understand.”

      “If we are to learn what it takes to engage in a gig,” Winkle said, “might I suggest that we visit the Pan-Galactic Prom Show as a matter of research. Gaar and Iniad even spoke of it before meeting their ignominious and poetic demises. We can learn more about it from the Blood Drive’s database along the way.”

      Packerhound withdrew at Winkle’s suggestion. “It doesn’t surprise me that you heard Gaar speak of the Prom Show; something big is going down this year at the event. It seems that Knolar Jex, the most maniacal pirate in the universe, has taken special interest in the Prom Show. Every pirate and cut-throat across the galaxy is talking about it. I think attending might be a dangerous endeavor indeed.”

      “But with such diversity in races attending, perhaps we can lodge our plea into many hearts from many worlds all at once,” Winkle said.

      “If Knolar Jex has anything to do with it, many Prom Show goers will no longer have hearts after this year’s gala.”

      Chi considered Winkle’s suggestion. He considered Packerhound’s misgivings. Then he made a resolution. “Packerhound, can you set course for the Pan-Galactic Prom Show please. And can you give us access to all you have in the Blood Drive’s database about the show itself?”

      Packerhound graced the Poison Nickels with his contagious smile yet again. “Consider me your navigator and publicist. If you can give me an hour, I will set course for the Collundrome and access more information than you can possibly digest about the Pan-Galactic Prom Show.”

      Packerhound wasted no time. Without even a salutation, he left the Poison Nickels in the cafeteria and cut his way through the belly of the Blood Drive back to the bridge. He had issued his warning about Knolar Jex; they hadn’t heeded it. That was of no consequence to Packerhound. He’d always wanted to go to the Pan-Galactic Prom Show. Knolar Jex or not, he couldn’t think of anything better than standing in an audience of tightly packed fans dancing and screaming along to the galaxy’s brightest musical talent.

       1

      Rick “Rick’s Hair” Nef plays tenor saxophone in the Funk Toast Band. Read his full biography at the end of this chapter.