Galactic Eviction

Think what you want now, but you honestly can’t say that I wasn’t prepared for my mission.

I left for my top secret assignment on Ceres the spring of 2,567. I had made very very careful planning for my arrival and journey.

It would take me 4 months in cryo-freeze to get to the star system, one week of local navigation, 17 hours to warm up the ship’s nuclei engines and 76 minutes to land on XF-89.

I had studied Lizerk and Vizerk, the local dialects spoken by the humanoid inhabitants of the dwarf planet. I brought with me 15 tons of led and uranium for bartering, and a detailed map of each and every one of the underground caves in the planet.

I took with me a sulfur mask, an ultraviolet rifle for the arachni-peds that lived in the cracks of the rocks, and a four feet tall crate with reinforced alloy that could contain a wild Zorg.

I had a different weapon for every kind of beast that lived in those tunnels. And, obviously, I had the finest ultrasonic diamond drill you could buy in the galaxy.

All of that I had prepared for.

What, obviously, I hand’t prepared for is the automatic payment on my apartment’s rent. When I got back to Earth after 9 months of traveling–completely incommunicado, of course–I found a notice of eviction on my door. My credit card had expired and my landlord had kicked me out for late payment.

Think what you want now, but you honestly can’t say that I wasn’t prepared for my mission.