CHAPTER 47
Glassvexx
While the Klaxworms were making their historical first step, Wilx was chartering our ship for a foolish mission.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I thought we'd check up on those drug dealers from Glassvexx,” said Wilx. “See if we can get in on their racket.”
“Their racket?”
“A racket is a less encouraged yet infinitely faster way of making money. The term was coined by humans, you should know these things.”
“I know what a racket is. Weren't you listening to the drug dealers at all? They don't want outside help. Fralgoth was blasted with a laser cannon for trying to intrude on their racket.”
“What racket?” asked Rip as he crawled into the room, still incapacitated from the sickness of the fermented Crabbit liqueur.
“The racket of the drug dealers from Glassvexx,” said Wilx. “We're on our way to claim a share of their lucrative Sativa.”
“Excellent,” groaned Rip. “Be right back,” he added as he crawled off to go puke in solitude. You couldn't hear the enthusiasm in his death-like speech, but you knew it was there. Rip would never let a severe poisoning detract from the prospect of a lucrative racket.
“I don't think we should go to Glassvexx,” I urged.
“We're already there.”
“Really?”
“This ship is way faster than our last one.”
The planet Glassvexx did not come into existence through the usual manner of physics randomly hurling a bunch of rocks and dust together. It was crafted out of glass, an invention of the ancient Yoloronians. They were a race of beings infinitely wise and yet ultimately stupid. Many had questioned their vast intellect from the get-go, saying that only a foolish race would make a planet-sized piece of glass. Logic suggests the only assured known outcome of building a planet-sized piece of glass is that it will one day shatter into many smaller pieces. Dangerous pieces that hurtle freely through space. Something will one day collide with and break the planet. This is inevitable. The Yoloronians declared Glassvexx unbreakable and built her anyway. The fact that they did this means they were at least brilliant with technology, if not as adept at using it to avoid apocalyptic outcomes.
Once made, Glassvexx was still not a planet, for it could not sustain life, and had no atmosphere or orbital pattern. The Yoloronians needed these things if they were to call their planet a planet. They succeeded.
First, Glassvexx was put on the Planetary Waiting List. Finally it was granted an orbital permit for somewhere in the great system of Herb. For the problem of atmosphere and life, thousands of greenhouses and boxes filled with dirt were shipped in and placed around the planet. Grown within these boxes were food for colonists and oxygen-generating bushels for the future generations who inhabit Glassvexx. After a few million years of time allowed for the oxygen-creating bushels to take effect, Glassvexx was at last ready to sustain life.
Over that few millions years of time, many of the plants being grown in the greenhouses evolved into certain psychotropic plants like the aforementioned Luminesco-Cannabid-Sativa. The colonists stationed to live on Glassvexx during the transitional period, the ones who had created the original strain of sativa, had evolved to rejoice in the growing of mind-altering plants. Tending to the plants was the colonist’s only job on the barren planet, so naturally they looked for entertainment within the plants. In the early days, the textbook chapters on psychotropic herbs were studied with fascination. Soon enough their curiosity led to the successful experimentation of seedlings. Today, the planet is covered with mountainous regions of wild growth, for the plants long since escaped the controlled greenhouses. Enough rock and dirt and ice and other mountain-forming resources were shipped in to layer the entire planet with a natural terrain that sustains the life of plants. The actual glass surface of the planet was no longer visible from anywhere at all. Some go looking for the famous glass planet and believe themselves to be lost, having found only a mountainous earthy planet covered with time-warping plants.
“Look at all the sativa!” exalted Wilx. “They'll never even know we were here. All we have to do is send some of those specimen-collecting pods down to the surface. I'll program all the pods to scoop up as much of the wild sativa as they can. Then we'll take the sativa to some faraway dimension and make a 200% profit increase.”
“I guess that isn't as foolish as I imagined,” I said.
“No worries,” said Wilx.
“Have we taken the planet yet?” asked Rip, crawling back into the room.
“We're not here to take the planet,” said Wilx. “We're here to pinch some unnoticed profits without any notice. Engaging our cloaking device. Sending out the specimen-collecting pods now.”
We all watched as the entirety of the pods drifted quietly to the surface of Glassvexx. After a short amount of time the pods returned. Wilx claimed each of them was filled with enough Sativa to buy at least a hemisphere of a planet.
As we attempted our prompt getaway, we heard something terrible. It was the arrival of many war-ships intent on the destruction of the planet.
These war-ships belonged to the extended corporate family of Fralgoth, and they were here to have their revenge on the drug farmers of Glassvexx.
“We should probably go,” said Rip.
“Yeah,” we agreed.
But Wilx didn't move the ship. All of us were suddenly entranced by what was going on. We had noticed many of the war-ships were collectively holding up some sort of massive, flat, square object. It seemed to go on for miles, requiring hundreds of high-intensity cables distributing the weight between 79 complete fleets of war-ships.
“Is that--”
“The Chalkboard of Elbereth?” asked Wilx. “Yes. Yes it is.”
“Why is it here?”
“Stolen, it seems.”
“Who would want that?” I asked.
“The Chalkboard of Elbereth is possibly the most devastating weapon ever made. To scratch the board causes unknown levels of damage. Some suggest the piercing sound made by the scratched chalkboard, if scratched with the right tool, could cause a space-quake powerful enough to tear the separation between dimensions to shreds. Spacial gateways to undesirable locations would loom above the skies of all planets. I don't buy into this theory as much, but it's possible. One thing is known; when you scratch the chalkboard, you go deaf and most things explode. I'm curious to see what happens to a planet made of glass.”
“Maybe they won't scratch it,” said Rip. “Maybe it's just a threat.”
“I say they do it,” said Wilx.
“Care to wager?”
“How much?”
“Your share of the sativa?
“Deal.”
“Look,” I said. “I think they're about to scratch the board.”
As I pointed out the window, seconds after Rip made his losing wager, many giant-metal claws were being positioned against the board by an additional 20 fleets of war-ships. It was to be an apocalyptic orchestra of chalkboard scratching.
“We should go.”
“Starting to think you're right,” agreed Wilx.
“We'll call the bet a tie.”
“Wait a minute, I still win the bet,” argued Wilx. “They're clearly about to the scratch the chalkboard.”
“But if we leave, there's no proof,” said Rip.
“We'll have to stay and watch then.”
At this point we all put our earplugs in.
The war-ships made no final announcement to the citizens of Glassvexx.
The board was scratched.
The reaction was not instantaneous. For a minute no sound at all emerged from the scratching of the claws. The ancient chalkboard needed time to muster up such horrific sounds from the depths of its essence. All at once the piercing sound slapped the entire galaxy with a staggering shock wave. Most of the nearby planets suffered some minor level of damage, but the
primary destructive force of the chalkboard was being aimed at Glassvexx by the harnessing powers of the devastatingly precise Sound-Board of Gorgolosh.
The glass-core of the planet did not shatter right away. The sound wave was absorbed and echoed, first causing all the terrain, mountains and sativa to crumble and fall from the surface. The remaining war-ships not involved with the scratching of the board were equipped with tractor-funnels for collecting the sativa-rich land before it was lost.
After all the land was shaken off, the glass-sphere was shown to still be in perfect condition. We all had the same thought: Had a planet made of glass actually survived the scratching of The Chalkboard of Elbereth? No, of course not. The sight of the intact sphere lasted for only a few seconds (most people missed it entirely) before it shattered, sending millions of shards of formerly unbreakable Jardian mega-glass hurtling into the cosmos. Some of these shards would continue hurtling through space for the remainder of infinity, others had a very short trip to the surface of the Planetglomerate.