Dean Dean finds himself adrift in deep space after an unfortunate collision on the fold space highway. A chance discovery of an unusual artifact brings him to the attention of the feared Dedan Empire.
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Between the third and fourth Galactic wars there had been a brief period when intergalactic travel had been seen as a tourist marketing opportunity where people could hop from galaxy to galaxy for pleasure. This brief interlude, where the authorities tried to encourage more than travel which was for trade, piracy, or conflict, didn't last long but one of its main legacies, which seemed to survive, was the Galactic Register of Public Establishments. Theories abound about its survival but amongst these was the most popular one that it was the laughter-inducing GROPE acronym which made it last. There were, of course, other opinions but for whatever reason, it had survived and become recognised in the seemingly endless solar systems throughout the countless galaxies.
Thanks to its simplicity, GROPE ratings and their ensuing certificates were proudly displayed in bars on almost every inhabited planet. While many tried to get the best possible score there were some places which delighted in getting the worst ones. The score of Ten was the best and getting such a good GROPE would signify that the venue would be able to provide high class food and drinks to their clientele while they relaxed in a clean and safe establishment.
As the scores lowered so did the quality until it reached one. If a drinker saw a certificate with that rating on it they would, if they had any sense, avoid it like the plague. After all the plague was a definite risk if they ventured into the place.
The bar that Dean was entering, known to the locals as 'The Dead Pirate', was an anomaly which the Galactic Register had failed to consider when creating the original scoring criteria, and when its assessment had happened, they'd been forced to create a new score. It was unique but the Zeroth GROPE had been issued and was truly deserved.
If it had been a more sophisticated place the lighting could have been described as ambient, but the Dead Pirate was just ominously dark. The furniture had been 'acquired' from spacecraft that had either landed, or crashed, on D-Jinn IV so the chairs and tables failed to match and, thanks to the various aliens who'd previously owned them, they were created to suit lots of odd shapes and sizes. Thanks to the lack of cleaning and the years of accumulated spilt drinks, blood and other body fluids, the sticky carpet was like walking on damp moss that squelched in various places. If anyone was unfortunate enough to collapse into it they ran a genuine risk of drowning or contracting some rare and fatal disease.
However, the worst part of the place was the walls. They had originally been painted a neutral magnolia colour but thanks to neglect and the fights which frequently and spontaneously erupted in the place, they had been redecorated in a wide spectrum of blood colours. Green, red, blue, purple and even yellow were splattered freely as if the whole place had been painted by someone wanting to create a piece of abstract pop art. This colour scheme also had added texture as chunks of flesh, in various stages of decomposition, adhered to some of the hard-to-reach spots.
Once Dean was inside the bar he stood there overwhelmed by a mixture of nausea, caused by the smell, and nostalgia as he saw so many things that brought back both good and bad memories. The Aldeep Ball table was still in the place it had always stood, the cracked and blaster marked screen protecting the barman from his clientele seemed to be exactly as he'd last seen it and the background music, emanating from some unseen sound system, sounded just as bland and inane as it always had.
