I can finally post my zine entry for Kirby super star ultra zine here!!! It was so fun to go wild with all the insane details!! Thanks @popstarzine for hosting it!!!
You have the fuel to burn through the void, until you find a safer location to dip into Other Dimensional space. You know the safe paths – safe as they can be, anyway. The Other Dimension is a plane where space and time warp, a strange reflection of the universe of matter, where void-borne creatures riding astral streams would feast upon your rickety box of a ship for it's scant reserves of energy. Where half-formed imitations of life in the true universe play out unpredictable, half-mad variations of a living being's actions, it's choices...
...it is a strange, dangerous place. But the distances between points in the material universe can made much, much shorter if one knows which of those astral streams to ride. Pick the right path, and a journey of days, weeks, or more in the universe of matter can be made in hours at most.
If you pick the right path. If you know where to fly.
And you do know where to fly, and where not to fly. And you know that all around you, for weeks now, have been Other-Dimensional entryways leading to paths upon which you should not fly. And you have an abundance of fuel, a stable hydroponics farm full of absolutely horrible crops, and a long-range scanner to give you ample warning of any approaching would-be thieves. So you burn the void, and you wait. And you watch your boxy, humming monitor for any further transmissions from Popstar, from Ranger North or the Grizzo with a ribbon or anyone really, and there's...nothing. No transmissions, from anyone, from anywhere, for weeks now.
There's nothing.
...boredom is an old nemesis, on long void-journeys.
Luckily for you, your ship is a piece of shit, and needs constant maintenance if it's going to keep it's pilot from dying of exposure to the void of space. The act of repairing what you could generously call your corvette is a constant exercise for both your mind and body, tasked as you are with maintaining a ship composed of a mix of scavenged chunks of other ships, cargo containment units, and whatever faith you have in the eternal love of the stars. Your only armaments are whatever scant scraps you might encounter on your path through the void, and you ingenuity in repurposing the parts of the ship that do work to repair the parts that don't.
It keeps you busy. Sometimes it's demanding, sometimes you think to yourself that wrecks of other ships would be so much easier to find, if you took a quick jaunt into the Other Dimension.
Of course, you don't want to become one of those wrecks. So you don't.
Instead, you maintain your horrible void-box with engines strapped to one end, that you generously call a corvette, and you see to your awful hydroponic crops, which you have no generous words for, and you watch for further transmissions.
It's while you're passing by a rogue gas giant, long removed from the loving light of it's parent star, scoop extended to gather much-needed materials from it's dark surface, that the monitor crackles to life with another transmission. The old stories would warn of dividing one's attention in a place like this. A dark place, far from the light and love of a star. Dangerous things used to lurk in places like this, the stories say. Hungry things.
But you know if those stories were ever true, they aren't now. There is barely life around what stars still remain. Much less out here in the open void. So you keep half an eye on the scoop, drifting in view of the cockpit window of your corvette, as you sit and watch the latest transmission from Popstar.
- - -
“...so why is there a religious symbol on these things, anyway?”
You hear the voice of the Grizzo from before, far above you, as your own perspective is Waddle-Dee level. You just barely make out the orange-yellow feet of a Dee bordering the screen, framing the mountainous sight of an ursa resting against a tree, wreck of a downed ship just beyond her bulk. Clutched almost daintily in her claws is another pink box of a smooth, flat material, empty now of whatever food contents it had presumably held. The Grizzo is looking far larger than she did before – wider, rounder, fuller. Only now do you realize just how thin she had been, before.
How much food did they have? You've never seen a Grizzo that large before.
“Eh?”
You hear the voice of Ranger North, close to the speakers, loud despite being so small.
“On this.”
The Grizzo angles the box towards the camera, showing the smiling face of a Star Warrior, just as before. Was it the same box, as before? Or did this miracle-world simply provide endless packages of food?
“Uh...? That's a religious symbol, Lady Bernadine?”
“I told you to stop calling me 'Lady'. Makes me feel like I'm back on the fucking Noble ship...”
The Grizzo - “Lady Bernadine” - leaned forward, down towards Ranger North, the box clutched between two paws held in-view now. Despite being gripped between thick, dark claws, the box had no sign of deformation, the ursa's grip being careful, gentle even. For a moment, the sound of tinkering stops, as another claw taps the space just next to the face on the box.
“That. See those starry eyes, that big smile? That's the face of the First Astral Knight.”
A pause, and the Grizzo – Bernadine, frowns.
“Y'know. Astra-Knight? Legendary First-Knight of the old Astral Knights? Knight of the Kaleidoscope Wing? Rider of the Dragoon? He who Embraces All?”
A pause.
“Um...no ma'am. I...know about Knights, though? They're elite warriors that join up with crews sometimes, dedicate themselves to a weapon. Fierce fighters, from what I understand.”
A sigh like lazy thunder.
“Don't you know anything about the old legends...?”
“No ma'am, I don't...not really my area of expertise.”
“Bah, whatever. Just tell me if you need me to toss you more scrap.”
At that, the looming figure of the Grizzo leans back up, resting on an elbow long enough to lightly toss the box to one side and grab a pop-flower by the stem, shaking it almost casually to cause a wooden plate – more wood! - to spring forth from it's petals, a plate lined with neat rows of...
“And what are theeese...here.”
You watch as Bernadine carefully plucks a pair of strange, cylindrical objects from the plate – black, then white, and finally bright colors in the center. You're not certain what that is either, but regardless, the ursa places them to the side of the screen, eliciting a curious murmur from Ranger North.
“Those are really strange...they look like something a Kawasaki would make, don't they...”
“Mhm.”
You watch as Bernadine hoists her impossible bulk back up to the tree, holding a singular cylinder of the mystery food in her claws, examining it for a long moment.
“Looks exactly like the kind of fancy shit the Kawasakis back on my old ship would make, yeah. All orderly and look-at-how-cool-I-am and...”
She pops the orderly, fancy cylinder into her mouth, thick jaws that could crush bone chewing experimentally.
“...should try it, it's pretty good.”
Your mind falters for a moment, catching up with what Bernadine did. Placed a pair of the food items next to the screen, with Ranger North. She offered him food? Shared it with him, without asking? Had the two grown closer, since the Grizzo had tried to eat the Waddle Dee whole? Or...
...was there simply so much food that it didn't matter? Did they really only need to jostle a plant, to reveal a full meal? The sound of pleased chewing near the screen suggested that was exactly the case.
“Yeah, wow. This is strange, but pretty good!”
He wasn't even trying to get more. There was a whole plate the bear was working her way through at an alarming rate. In almost no time, it was empty, and the ursa simply lightly tossed the piece of wood – wood! – to the side, as it were mere scrap metal, reaching down to shake the flower again...to no response.
“What, you sleepy? Mm.”
Bernadine shifts to her other side, the rustle of another flower being shaken barely audiable, and...
“There we go! Seconnnnnds!”
She drew the word out victoriously, lifting up – another plate of smooth wood, full of more cylinders of food that were more elaborate than most inhabitants of Gamble Galaxy would see in their lifetimes. And simply – tipped the plate forward, into her thick, waiting maw, munching in obvious delight. Much closer, the sounds of tinkering continued, as Ranger North chewed almost casually.
“...think I might getting somewhere with
- - -
...you stare at the blank monitor, the transmission having cut off abruptly. Ranger North was tinkering with the device – they didn't seem to have any idea they'd been transmitting. Had the tablet been damaged, in their initial life-and-death encounter? It seemed like they'd put that behind them – even offering each other food? Only crewmates did that, and only if they trusted each other. But...
...there was so much food on Popstar, perhaps that rule didn't matter? And they'd clearly found a wrecked ship, so they weren't hurting for raw materials, either. It seemed like they had everything they could want, there on the impossible world of Popstar.
...you scan the Other-Dimensional readings on another monitor. There's a path not far from here that you could take. You pull a lever to begin retracting the arm holding the collection scoop. It groans as rusted parts make a heroic effort of basic functionality.
You don't care if you end up another wreck on it's surface. You need to get to Popstar.
#project hail mary
