Cold Star

Cyril stood on Heaven. Slightly marred, but always beautiful Heaven was still standing. High in the sky the twin suns shone and the stars twinkled and danced happily. Also in the sky sat the moon. One of the Ix’s smaller ships was crashed into the Silver Place and dangling from it like a dead animal; lights flickered from it and the engines slowly guttered into nothing and sputtered briefly back to life as if the great beast was in its death throes. Cyril twirled his pike nervously he really hoped none of the Ix had remained in the ship when it crashed. Not because he didn’t want them to die (actively anyway) but because if they had that means they had just invaded the Palace and they would be bad. Very bad. Cyril tapped the ground with his pike that came along with being the Lord of Heaven with the expectation the ground would swallow him up and take him to the palace on the moon. Don’t ask how that works.
Oddly enough, it did not take him to the Silver Palace like he wished. In fact it didn’t take him anyway. Heaven must be recuperating from the battle. A chill ran down his spine as a dark thought entered his mind. That or maybe the Ix were slowly taking control of the throne in the palace that controlled the entire planet. That would be awfully bad. Terrible in fact. Like, we cannot stress how terrible this would be. Muy mal, if you happen to be Spanish. Bad. Awful. Got it? Good.
Cyril strode quickly to his space ship (newly debugged, so no more unexpected trips!) and swung the door open. The large time column in the center of his wooden study stood awaiting him. It echoed warmly, welcoming him back after coming home from war. “Hello, beautiful!” Cyril laughed and he knocked playfully on the walls. He was obviously very happy at finally being safe. “You know, I think that’s what I’ll call you. Beautiful. You like that?” The ship hummed in what Cyril safely assumed was a confirmation. It echoed again in a seemingly expectant manner. Cyril pursed his lips, “We’ll deal with the exterior later.” The lights in the ship seemed to dull a little bit, “Don’t worry, we’ll get to it.” Cyril paced around the hexagonal control panel surrounding the time column and pressed many buttons, rolled many rolly thingies, and pulled exactly 2 levers. The ship dematerialized and Cyril smiled somewhat grimly as he thought he landed at the Silver Palace. Cyril walked to the door and held his pike in front of him, ready to stave off any Ix hanging nearby. Cyril opened the door and almost tumbled out of it from surprise. Instead of the icy halls of the Silver Palace there was the cold, black void. Actually it wasn’t black or cold in this particular spot in space. It was actually very hot and extremely bright. He was just outside the range of a supernova. No wait, I lied. It was still very cold but it WAS extremely bright. Cyril was just outside the range of a supernova cold star. It was a nice shade of blue and it seemed to absorb all the heat in the space surrounding it. “How… strange. How is that possible? Cold isn’t a measurable energy it’s just… screw it.” Cyril shrugged and looked at the cold star in awe. “You are beautiful you are.” A few moments passed as he stared at the star through the light dampening field of his ship and admired it. Soon reality took over, “Why am I here though?” Cyril left the door open as he went back to the hexagonal control panel. He checked and rechecked the coordinates he had put in and the energy parameters set into the space jump. Cyril shook his head bewilderedly as the onboard universal map tried to calculate his position. Apparently he was just about where the Earth had been 500 years ago. Cyril spun the space ship about and looked out, and sure enough there was the Earth not too far from here. “Why would I have appeared here?” muttered Cyril ponderously. “More importantly, how did a cold star get this close to the solar system and how come no one has noticed it?”
Cyril turned the ship about once more to look at the cold star but it was gone. All the remained were small pockets of energy. Cyril gathered them up in a ball reminiscent of the Spirit Ball that Yamcha used to use. It actually was. Cyril just learned Spirit Ball out of the blue. Yay.


Word Count: 785

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