Ultra Solar Tales 01 01


The Babaca helmsman flicks its gooey tentacles on the control screen as all 11 feet of its squidly body glistens with an oily sheen. 

It whistles, “Mira?” 

A kaleidoscope of color shimmers across its four giant fly-like eyes. Those crazy reflecting eyes. They’re small head always leaving you to wonder which direction it was looking. The little devious bastard. 


Titan, called Mira by most of her crew, has fallen into a cheeseburger coma.

Chunks of bread, meat, and unspeakables crumble out of her hand as huge globs of it drop onto her shirt and splatt onto the floor.

Well, it’s not actually bread and it’s not actually meat . . . but who’s counting?

The first officer, Alanua, another squid, receives a textured water stream from the helmsman and her lightscreens flicker to new images.


Titan, lost in a dream, doesn’t hear a thing. She leans far back in her chair as her eyes roll to the back of her skull. She mumbles, “This. Is. Amazing,” as chunks of food flop out of her mouth.

Alanua whistles, “MIRA!!”

Titan grabs the burger with both hands and tries to shove the entire thing in her mouth. She does that a lot. She is a tall woman slouched deep into the recesses of her chair. Her hair is wild in rebellious spirals around her face which are lit by a watery wall of light screens.

Another moment passes.

Titan snaps her head forward as a chunk of bread is launched out of her mouth. Eh, it almost touched me. Her confused face turns to Alanua, “what?”

Alanua, casual as always, “Mira. A projectile has torn through deck 12. Another through deck 17. More projectiles are on a collision course. We will be struck momentarily.”

Titan stands and turns to face the wall sized watery screen running through the room. The remnants of the lifeless cheeseburger now decorate the floor.

She takes three decisive steps and stops. Her eyes sharpen . . then turn dark.

Titan looks into the watery screens, light reflections warble across her face from the shimmery liquid. Even without a captains uniform I have always thought there is no doubt who is commanding the ship. “Can we move out of the way of the incoming projectiles?”

The dozen squidy Babaca all flick water and whistle.

Their whale-like blowholes sing in harmony only on occasion. The rest of the time it’s an orchestra of dying honking balloons.

The entire ship shudders as large projectiles make contact with the hull.

Titan, frustrated at the lack of an answer, brushes the last remnants of cheeseburger from her dark blue spacesuit. The crumbs fall onto the pristine floor following her uneven path around the screens.

Alanua speaks out. Her whistling voice is followed immediately by the computer translating her speech into English. Usually, it does a pretty shit job. “No, Mira. We have not had shoes in time.” LAUGHING. OK, I will continue to translate the translator going forward, as I have been. Unless it’s way too funny to pass up, of course. I enjoy watching Titan trying to parse the broken English from the translator but during a crisis is not the time for semantic games.

“We’re about to be hit?”