Twilight of the Star Vampires (Set of Books 1-3):A Parody of the Twilight Saga, Star Wars and Star Trek

by Paula Sunsong

  “Can you teach me that?” said Luck.

  “How to turn into a werewolf?” said Chewy.

  “How to get all muscular like that. The ladies love it.”

  Chewy and Obegone looked at each other. A middle aged woman in a black vest, white shirt and slim black pants sat down at their table.

  “See, it attracts women,” whispered Luck loudly.

  “It’s not the muscles, it’s my animal magnetism,” said Chewy, whispering loudly back.

  “Chewy!” said the woman.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Chewy sitting up straighter.

  “Who are these people?”

  “They need a ship to get to the Aldaran system.”

  “Oh, a ship, eh?” She turned to appraise Obegone and Luck. “My name is Brun Solow, I’m captain of the Amazon Falcon. So, you want to charter my ship?”

  “If it’s a fast ship,” said Obegone.

  “Fast ship,” said Brun pulling a deck of cards out of her pocket. “Faster than the speed of light.” Brun began rapidly shuffling the cards, until they became a blur. “Faster than the Imperial guardship sliding down a glacier on a Teflon skateboard.”

  “I want to try that!” said Luck. “How much for the ship?”

  Obegone put a restraining hand on Luck. “Wait, Luck, I have more questions.”

  “She’s fast enough for you, old man,” said Brun abruptly stopping the cards. She flipped over a hand she had dealt--all aces showed.

  Obegone looked at the cards and looked at Brun’s face. A smile touched the corners of Obegone’s mouth. “I’m fast too,” said Obegone, “and I’m not your old man--yet.” His smile widened into a flirtatiously grin.

  Brun’s serious face slowly cracked into a smile.

  “We’ll charter your ship, with no questions asked,” said Obegone, “and feel free to challenge me to strip poker.”

  “You’ll lose,” said Brun.

  “I know,” said Obegone, standing up, and offering his arm to Brun. “Do you like to dance? I’m a great dancer.”

  Brun looked him up and down. She slid the deck of cards into her vest pocket. She stood up and took Obegone’s arm.

  “You’re still paying me a good price to charter my ship,” said Brun walking towards the bar’s exit with Obegone. “Good dancer or not.”

  Luck looked surprised at the sight of Obegone and Brun arms locked together. Chewy shrugged.

  “The ways of love are strange,” said Chewy. He pulled a bread stick out of the basket on the table, and began chewing on it like a dog bone.

  After eating all the breadsticks, Luck and Chewy followed Obegone and Brun outside the bar. At the curbside, Obegone reluctantly parted with Brun, as she and Chewy went ahead to prepare the Amazon Falcon for takeoff.

  “You’ll have to sell your hovercar, and first born child,” said Obegone.

  “I don’t have children,” said Luck.

  “Well, we’ll just have to hope the money from the hovercar is enough,” said Obegone.

  “I’ll take the hovercar to Al’s used robot lot,” said Luck.

  “No, Luck, he’ll pay you in coupons cut from the Sunday paper. We need more money than that.”

  “Aren’t you going to sweet talk Brun Solow into a lower price?” said Luck.

  “I’ll do my best--just don’t play poker with Brun. You’ll lose your shirt, and that’s my job.”

  “I’ll bet the Amazon Falcon is a piece of junk,” muttered Luck under his breath.

  “A woman like Brun, she probably won it in a card game--a high stakes card game. The ship may be a beauty, like Brun.” Obegone’s eyes glazed over.

  “Oh, brother,” said Luck. He turned to Aretoo. “Don’t ever fall in love and turn into a lunk head.”

  Aretoo made a noise like a spring popping out of a metal tube, and rolled along.

  After several hours of trying to sell the hovercar to various used vehicle dealers, they finally sold the hovercar to some alien hippies whose bumper sticker covered van had broken down. The hippies paid in cash, tie-dye t-shirts, and some mysterious looking mushrooms. Obegone pocketed those.

  “They will come in handy later,” said Obegone.

  With no hovercar, it took 3 buses and a shuttle, to arrive at the spaceport. Obegone wouldn’t pay for a cab. A cab driver would have charged extra for handling the robots Aretoo and Seetoo, counting them as baggage.

  Cheapskate, thought Luck helping peel Seetoo out of a bus seat he was stuck to with bubble gum.

  They searched for warehouse 13, where the Amazon Falcon was docked. It was on the fringes of the spaceport. Stainless steel rats scurried away as they approached. The warehouse looked dingy from the outside, and the door was falling off the hinges.

  “I’m right. It’s going to be a piece of junk,” said Luck.

  “Wait and see,” said Obegone.

  They entered the warehouse.

  Luck’s jaw fell open. Before them was sleek, shiny black spaceship shaped vaguely like a falcon.

  “It’s a ‘Blink of an Eye’ craft!” said Luck. He’d seen pictures of one in Space Hotrod magazine. He would read the magazine in the local alien drugstore, much to the annoyance of the proprietor, who would point to the “this is not a reading room” sign. “Those spaceships aren’t even for sale yet on Tattooing.”

  The Amazon Falcon looked brand new. It was not a used vehicle. Luck was very used to used vehicles. New vehicles were a rarity around the farm.

  With a smooth hiss, the shiny black landing ramp lowered. Brun Solow’s equally shiny boots came into sight, as she descended the ramp.

  Jauntily placing one foot on the ramp and one on the floor, she gestured to the ship.

  “Well, what do you think, boys?”

  “All right!” said Luck. “I call shotgun.” He raced up the ramp to grab the seat next to the pilot.

  There was a clank of plastic on metal from the warehouse doorway.

  “Imperial troops! Get inside!” yelled Brun. In one fluid movement, she flipped her laser gun out of the holster, and stepped forward to protect Obegone. Six troopers entered the warehouse brandishing rifles.

  A laser bolt struck near Luck’s foot and he jumped the last few feet into the doorway of the ship. Obegone grabbed Brun by the back of her shirt, and pulled her up the ramp, while she expertly shot the rifles from the hands of four of the troopers.

  Obegone and Brun safely made it through the doorway. The ramp raised up, shutting tightly.

  “Chewy, get us out of here!” said Brun running for the cockpit.

  Chewy switched on the engines and the control panel pulsed into life. The ship raised up six feet and hovered towards the warehouse doors.

  “We didn’t have time to open the doors!” yelled Obegone.

  Meanwhile, the robots Aretoo and Seetoo stood outside the Amazon Falcon and watched it move towards the closed warehouse doors. Aretoo rolled towards the doors, extended a mechanical arm, and hacked into the door controls.

  “Aretoo, you’ve got it!” said Seetoo as the massive warehouse doors slid open.

  The Amazon Falcon, increasing in speed, flew out the doors, knocking back the storm troopers, and leaving the robots behind.

  “Bye,” waved Seetoo. “Thank god, they’re gone. Now we’ll have some peace around here.”

  Aretoo whistled in agreement. Aretoo raised two mechanical fingers in a peace sign that the space hippies had taught it.

  “So true, Aretoo,” said Seetoo. “Oh, no, they’re coming back.”

  The Amazon Falcon banked and turned back towards the robots.

  “Run, run for your life!” yelled Seetoo, running as fast as he could, which was with mincing little steps. Aretoo fared little better, rolling along slightly faster.

  The Amazon Falcon swooped down. Two doors on the bottom of the spacecraft slid open and two mechanical legs extended. With open claws, each snatched a robot, and flew up into the sky.

  The metal legs retracted, hauling Seetoo and Aretoo inside
the ship.

  “I’ll bet you’re glad we saved you,” said Obegone, slapping Seetoo on the back. “Ouch,” he said as his hand hit Seetoo’s metal back.

  “We almost made it,” sulked Seetoo. Aretoo sighed mechanically.

  “Droids, what would they do without us?” said Luck.

  Aretoo thought of how if they weren’t on this ship, it could be catching up with the local droid bowling league, the Tinpot Terrors. Or they could be surfing. Aretoo had its own surf board.

  Seetoo looked around the ship’s lounge room, with its black silk pillows, matching couch and shiny marble floor. “At least the inside of the Amazon Falcon was decorated by a talented artist.”

  “Stay sharp, Chewy,” said Brun. “There are Imperial ships chasing us. They’ll try to cut us off.”

  “Why don’t you outrun them,” said Luck. “I thought you said this ship was fast.”

  “The Imperial ships are the latest and fastest models, too,” said Brun. “Prepare to go to hyperdrive.”

  “I’ll do it!” cried Luck reaching past Brun and punching buttons on the control panel.

  “NO!” Brun, Obegone and Chewy cried simultaneously, but it was too late.

  Chapter 25 Conspiracy Theory

  The stars blurred into streaks, and the ship careened into an unplanned trip into hyperspace. A kaleidoscope of shapes and colors wheeled about. The hippies would have loved the trip.

  “I just flipped a few switches,” said Luck.

  “Don’t touch another switch,” growled Chewy. “Or you’ll be floating home.”

  “I’ve had the same thought about doing that to Luck myself,” moaned Obegone. “But it’s against the Jetti code.”

  “What is?” said Luck. Everyone found someplace else to look other than at Luck.

  “Where are we going?” said Obegone, grabbing onto the sides of his chair as the ship bucked back and forth. If he and Brun had been alone, they could have used the movement to their advantage, but Obegone did not want an audience for what he planned with Brun.

  Brun was running computer diagnostics. A stream of information flowed on the screen.

  “It looks like we’re going to Earth.”

  “Earth?” said Luck.

  “A funny little blue green planet.”

  The ship ground to a halt, the kaleidoscopic shapes stopped. There was sudden silence and darkness, then a popping noise. The stars came back into view, and they were circling a blue green marble of a planet.

  “Captain, I’ve run a damage diagnostic,” said Chewy. “It will take several hours to repair the overblown circuits. We’ve lost quite a bit of water--we’ll need to refill.”

  “Stay here, Chewy. Obegone, let’s go down to the planet for reconnaissance,” said Brun standing up.

  “Great!” said Luck. “I always liked Renaissance fair.”

  “Not renaissance, reconnaissance, it’s…”

  “Never mind, Captain,” said Obegone. “Don’t waste your breath. Save it for kissing.” He winked.

  With Luck eagerly leading the way they walked to the shuttlecraft, the Falcon’s Chick. Obegone, Brun and Luck boarded. Brun piloted, easing the Chick slowly out of the hangar, then speeding towards the closest freshwater lake. They flew over Palenque, Mexico.

  Below the Space Chick, Mayan natives pointed to the sky. Seeing the Space Chick, a high counselor rushed up the palace steps to their king.

  “Lord Pakal, a strange omen. A giant shiny bird flies in the sky without beating its wings.”

  Lord Pakal hurried to the open doorway, his feathered headdress bouncing with each step.

  “It is a sign. Decorate my tomb with this, a picture of me operating such a giant bird, flying to the Gods. It shall be like a chariot to the gods.”

  “It shall be done, Lord Pakal,” said the counselor. “I see a vision that 1400 years from now, a great scholar shall see your tomb and write about the Chariots of the Gods.”

  “Hmmm,” pondered Pakal. “It is good.”

  Meanwhile Brun was scanning the landscape with her instruments.

  “There’s something wrong here. Contemporary Earth should have highways, and skyscrapers. All I see are Iron age settlements,” said Brun squinting at the computer screen.

  “Captain Brun, I would like to look, if I may,” said Obegone. He poured over the readouts. “We’ve gone back in time.” He turned to Luck. “What did you do when you punched those buttons!”

  Luck shrugged. “I dunno.”

  “We’ll fill the water tanks, then we’re getting back to the ship, pronto, before the natives decided to practice human sacrifice on us,” said Brun programming a course away from human occupied areas.

  At the words “human sacrifice,” Obegone looked at Luck. It would be one way to get him off his back. He could push Luck out the door near one of those temples. No, with the way things were going lately, the natives would probably make Luck into a god instead of getting rid of him.

  Luck stared back at Obegone. Obegone had that look when Luck had broken something. “What are you thinking,” said Luck.

  “Of my options,” said Obegone with a sigh. “Little of those I have.”

  Brun expertly operated the pumps to quickly fill the water tanks, then flew a straight shot back to the Amazon Falcon. After docking, she rushed to the cockpit and engaged in a heated discussion with Chewy as how to correct the time shift.

  “Buckle up—we’re going back into hyperspace to see if we can move forward in time, back to our own year,” said Brun.

  “I’ll hold Luck’s arms,” said Obegone reaching towards Luck.

  “Ready?” said Brun. Obegone, pinning Luck’s arms to his sides, nodded. “Okay. Now!”

  Chewy punched the buttons on the touch screen. The stars blurred and the familiar kaleidoscope shapes appeared. Then they popped back into normal space, still above the Earth.

  “Scanning the area, Captain,” said Chewy. “I see highways and skyscrapers. I’m getting radio and TV signals.”

  “Any internet signals?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We may be back to our time now,” said Brun standing up. “I’ll use the shuttlecraft to land and determine if we are back in our own time or some parallel dimension.”

  “I’m coming with you,” said Obegone.

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “I would worry about your safety while you were gone,” said Obegone.

  “I can take care of myself,” said Brun, but her eyes softened. “If it pleases you, you may come.”

  Brun, Obegone and Luck boarded the Falcon’s Chick and flew towards Earth. It was night. Brun found a small town in the area.

  “We’ll need to land and buy a newspaper and an accurate clock,” said Brun, landing the ship outside the town. They left the Falcon’s Chick covered in brush, and walked towards the lights of the nearest town.

  After a few minutes of walking, they neared a bar, with loud music blaring from a jukebox, and a neon sign glowing the word “open”. A man who was leaning drunkenly against the wall whistled as Brun walked near.

  “Looking for some company?” he said.

  “Just a newspaper,” said Brun.

  “Well honey, I’ll buy you that if you have a drink with me.” He looked at Brun’s tight fitting black pants.

  Obegone stepped forward. He waved his hand to use the farce. “You don’t need to bother this woman.”

  For the first time, the drunk’s eyes focused on Obegone and his loose Samurai-like Jetti robes.

  “What are you from, a Japanese costume store?” he snickered. “Maybe I should punch you right back to it.”

  “Obegone is great man,” said Luck. “Don’t insult him.”

  “Great for eating my fist,” said the drunk rolling up his sleeve, like he was planning on fist fighting.

  “Oh, yeah, well take this,” cried Luck, reaching for his light saber but accidentally grabbed his wallet instead. He held it out in front of him, and tried to turn on the l
ight saber by clicking a nonexistent button on the wallet.

  “Okay,” said the drunk reaching for the wallet.

  Brun stepped in front of Luck, grabbing the drunk’s arm. “Put that away, Luck. We need local currency to buy a newspaper.” She started walking with the man into the bar. “You know I just love to play poker. Do you play poker?” Brun looked up at the man with her big innocent eyes.

  “Sure!”

  Two hours and $400 dollars later, Brun had cleaned out the wallets of half the male bar customers. Obegone watched Brun play poker with the interest of an art critic seeing a master painter at work.

  “Did you really need to do that, just to buy a newspaper?” said Obegone after they left the bar.

  “No, but it was more fun this way.”

  With directions from the bartender, they located a tobacco and magazine store that was open late. Luck stared at the cigars in confusion, as smoking was rare in advanced civilizations like the space faring one he came from.

  “Look at this,” said Brun, holding up a newly bought newspaper.

  Obegone whistled. “Roswell Daily Planet, made in Roswell, New Mexico.”

  “And the date?”

  “1947.”

  “We’re not back to our time yet. Let’s go.”

  “Wait a moment, I need to buy stocks and race horse tickets,” said Obegone looking at the finance pages. “I know what they will be worth in the future. I knew studying history would pay off some day.”

  “Not now--we’ve got to get out of here,” said Brun pulling Obegone by the arm. “What school taught you the history of race horses?” she said, breaking into a trot back towards the Falcon’s Chick.

  “The school of hard knocks,” said Obegone. “Here comes one now.” Luck, his hands full of rubber balls, candy bars and comic books, ran to catch up with them.

  Once at the shuttle, they tore away the pile of branches, and piled into the vehicle.

  “Race ya!” called Luck. He dropped his candy, ran to the cockpit, and jumped into the pilot’s seat. “I can fly this thing.”

  “No you can’t!” said Brun stepping forward to remove Luck. He hit the acceleration button, and Brun tumbled backwards into Obegone’s arms.