Planetia, being the last stop before the Great Void, was a constant hive of activity. Billboards across the tiny planetoid glaringly proclaimed in neon reds and greens and pinks: “Spend a few days in Planetia, and you’ll never leave!” Sadly, this was a fact to which most of the locals could attest.
Bernie had been a local for 93 years. Like so many other travellers who passed through Planetia, Bernie and his wife, Marnie, had wanted to explore the universe, and also to get as far from Marnie’s father’s shotgun as was physically possible. Sadly, as was often the case on intergalactic adventures, things had not gone according to plan.
Space travel through the Great Void was hazardous in more ways than one. When they’d reached Planetia, Bernie learned the cost of the trip had quadrupled; “New inter-galactic tax, I’m sure you understand.” The ship had undocked three days later, but Bernie had been left behind.
Bernie was a survivor. A year of washing dishes, and some good luck at the card tables, and he’d remade himself into a businessman. Regulars knew to avoid the Pressed Beds Motel and Whistlestop Cafe; the coffee tasted like boiled gum shoes, and the bedding was only as clean as the last traveller who’d spent the night. But there were enough first-time travellers – mostly young explorers or newly-weds – that the two did a roaring trade.
