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Many miles away, deeper in the void that did absolutely nothing, really, for a person's ego, a very tiny spaceship hovered reluctantly around a rather oddly shaped moon.
It's reluctance, you might attribute to a few different sources: you might possibly think it was reluctant, being as deep in the void as it was, to take leave of the oddly shaped moon around which it hovered and become even slightly more insignificant than it already seemed, or perhaps it was a bit leery of the odd shape of the moon, being skeptical about orbiting a moon that seemed to have an ear-shaped protrusion err... protruding from one side, or possibly it was attributing the almost crippling ego-deflation to the oddly shaped moon it was circling, and was just eager to get away and see if it couldn't sort things out without this moon giving it such an odd vibe, or perhaps it had been quite a bit lost, and wasn't really up for another forty days or so of wandering about the infinite depths of space, trying to find a petrol station while it's pilot complained of auto-pilot not doing a tremendous job, unless it's main proficiency was at travelling the far reaches of the Universe, acquainting it's occupants with all the seediest and emptiest bits the Universe had to offer, all the while failing to find a decent hamburger stand, let alone a reasonably sanitary loo.
Or, possibly, it was hovering reluctantly because it's pilot had been arguing for the last half an hour or so with a remarkably humanoid-looking person except for the fact that it was nine feet tall and had thorns/spikes studded along it's arms and a particularly painful-looking one just slightly to the left of the middle of it's forehead, about the humanoid-looking person's ship having dented the pilot's own ship's rounded engine thing that stuck out of the top of the ship, and about what the exact cost of repairs would be, should one of the two be interested in getting the dent repaired, a few relatively unsubtle hints being put forth that the humanoid-looking nine foot tall creature may wish to take it upon itself to pay. The unsubtle hints which were largely not being picked up by the humanoid-looking creature in question.
Actually, that would probably be it.
That, the troupe of four little guard ships coming towards them from the oddly-shaped moon with the Universe Law-mandated red "My Lasers Are Armed And Probably Going To Be Used Soon" warning lights (the law drafted after an incident with squatters who turned out to be a visiting football squad in a space-flat outside of a planet in the Green Sector that sparked the fervour of the Great Campaign for Readiness and Fair Notice, which was largely targeted at real estate breaches of contract, but expanded to include pretty much every other conceivable offence) flashing demurely from their positions by the barrels, the low fuel light flashing, semi-ironically, almost in sync with the red warning lights of the guard ships, and the mayonnaise dripping ineluctably towards the console from the pilot's forgotten chicken ciabatta sandwich.
Things looked grim all around.
disclaimer:
To be continued...
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Yer Weekly Horoscopes. flubber.