Something is brewing in the galaxy, and it's not a double shot of espresso. With the dust barely settled after the last near-Armageddon, the four baristas are called back into action, even though the four have become three. With a little help from...
In response to EJ's query, Cam and Flenson exchanged a look—a look at which they had become very practiced.
"You know," said the Rigellian, "I'm going to have to go with a 'no' at this stage. I'm just a little short of good, on that particular plan. How about you, Cam?"
The barista considered. "Well, given I'm not sure I understand all of it, I'd probably lean towards a 'no' as well. Particularly given one of the bits I did understand was the bit about fiery and spectacular disintegration."
"Possible fiery and spectacular disintegration," clarified EJ. "That's only one of the potential outcomes."
"Oh," replied Cam. "Well, that's alright then."
"Really? It is? Great. I've got the ion drives are back online, so I'll set the coordinates and—"
"Sorry, EJ." Cam gave a rueful smile. "Sarcasm again. I should know better by now."
"So, we're not good?"
Flenson raised his eyebrows. "Good with a plan to fly at full-speed towards a planet? To intentionally recreate the situation that almost resulted in the destruction of Earth, not to mention us, in the miniscule hope that the miraculous conjunction of circumstances that somehow saved us last time—the intergalactic scrunch that brought us here—might actually happen again? Uh, like we said—no."
"Well, of course it sounds bad, if you put it like that," said EJ. "But this seemingly insane, headlong, full-speed planet-dive would be totally different to the last one."
"Oh, yeah?" asked Cam. "How's that?"
"This time we'll be doing it on purpose."
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"It has now been twenty minutes since the nano-drones' last transmission from the two baristas' location on the spaceport, Mr Wandoo. Shall I instruct them to recommence the video-feed?"
"I guess so." Chek swallowed, experiencing an unfamiliar—and possibly unprecedented—pang of prudishness. "Actually, hang on a second, ship-man. Given those two are super-peeps, who knows how long they might be able to...uh, how long we should wait? Maybe I should give the Earth-dude's phone another try, first. Actually, forget that—dial me up the Earth-babe."
"Yes, sir. Contacting Cora now."
It was only a few seconds before the image of a somewhat dishevelled but—to Chek's intense relief—fully clothed Cora materialised in the centre of the bridge. "Hello? Chek?"
"Hey there, Earth-babe. How's it going?"
Cora's smile was dreamy. "Really great." The smile faded a little. "Well, actually—things could be better, I guess. We're kind of trapped. On a spaceport, near Vanoo Prime. Um—in a cupboard."
"Yeah, yeah, I know—uh, not about the cupboard, of course. Or, ah...what you might be doing in there. Um. Anyway, never fear, your saviour—and your free ride—is here."
