The Pizza Frontier

by jinnis

I swear the explosion wasn't my fault. Okay, I was the one who made the pizza, so I'll accept part of the blame falls on me. But making pizza is my job. I'm a pizzaiolo, and I dare say one of the best in town. That's why they brought the Khobalian ambassador to my joint. His or Her Excellency's human aide—I had no clue about Khobalian gender—told me the ambassador insisted on immersing in human culture and indulging in genuine human food. And immerse they did, although not the way their entourage had planned it. 

Good pizza dough needs a lot of kneading and resting, and I only work with the best. So, it was still early, and I was kneading the dough when a blonde woman in a purple dress suit walked straight into my tiny kitchen, took in my flour-covered arms, and wrinkled her too-perfect nose.

"Are you Andrew?"

"The name is Andrea, and yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

"Can you cater for a party of twenty tonight? The Khobalian ambassador insists on visiting the countryside to get to know human customs. Unfortunately, he dines only in the best of the best native places. And I hear yours is just that. Best pizza in town, they say, even if remains disputable if the place deserves the name town. Hence I'm here in this... den." She stared at my tomato-sauce splattered apron.

I ignored her and glanced at the dining area, rubbing my moustache and taking in the restricted place. "Sure, I can fit twenty. When will you be here?" I would have to juggle the group with the usual order of takeaways, but with taxes due and the general inflation, I couldn't be picky.

"Eight sharp. Try to make the place look festive."

With clenched teeth, I watched her strut out. She stopped in the doorway, turned around and gave the well-worn wooden tables and low rafters another nose wrinkle. "I hope you live up to your reputation. For your own sake."

I was tempted to tell her to jump in a lake, but the prospect of a full house was too important. If she wanted decoration, she'd get it. In hindsight, I should have gone for plastic palm trees or something. But stupid me had to dig out the coloured light bulbs. They were an heirloom from a pre-owner of the place, early twenty-first century, if not older. I only ever used them for special festivities. Global Peace Day, We're-Not-Alone-in-the-Universe Memorial Day—this kind of stuff. They gave the place a timeless retro look I hoped the ambassador would appreciate.

The evening found me taking orders from a mixed human-khobalian delegation. I'd never met aliens before. Khobalians were tall, with several sky blue limbs resembling the tentacles of a sea anemone sprouting from barrel-shaped torsos. Four short, stubby legs at the lower end and a round head with wet black eyes that reminded me of seals topped it off. They looked harmless, but went for the strong drinks like a horde of vikings after a raid.

Soon, the party was in full swing. I served pizza as fast as I could and set my pride in making the ambassador's calzone an unforgettable experience—a dream of seasoned mushrooms, mozzarella, anchovies and caramelised garlic, pepped up with my secret pizza spice and some Caribbean rum.

To my chagrin, I succeeded. The chief Khobalian tucked in, emitting little squeals I hoped meant they enjoyed their meal. The blonde aide seemed to be satisfied—at least her nose remained straight until the ambassador stiffened and toppled over with rolling eyes. Humans and aliens rushed to their side while I fumbled with my phone to call an ambulance. Before I got a connection, the Khobalian's skin turned pale blue, then developed black spots reminding me of a leopard until an orange glow formed on my unfortunate guest's body. The surrounding air sizzled with static electricity and my precious lightbulbs exploded in unison.

Bright sparks zipped through the room and colourful shards of glass showered the floor, the tables, and the diners. After a moment of shocked silence, the shouting began. Then a tablecloth burst into flame, ignited by a spark or a toppled candle. Moments later, the flames, nourished by napkins and dried flower bouquets, reached for the curtains and roof beams. Acidic smoke stung my nose, and the guests fled the dining room, dragging the ambassador with them on a tablecloth. It was impossible to judge if Their Excellency was still alive.

When the firefighters arrived, my beloved pizza place and my home were already reduced to a heap of rubble, coal and ashes. While the emergency services cared for my former guests, I hung back, nursing a burnt hand and observing the ambassador's still form being loaded into an ambulance amidst shouting and tentacle waving.

Then I saw the blonde woman pointing in my direction, shouting something that sounded like "he is to blame." I knew I was in trouble. Serious trouble, and it was time to make myself scarce. Before the blonde could send the police after me, I got lost in the alleys of my hometown.

I spent the night in an anonymous diner, staring into a drink and contemplating my options. The Khobalians had a reputation for being a fierce race, determined and vengeful. I'd also heard they had a memory like sharks. Or was it orcas? It didn't matter—once on their shit list, you would stay there, trapped like perspiration in a space suit. They would never forgive me for poisoning their ambassador, by accident or not.

What should I do? I stared into my empty glass and mulled over my options. There weren't many, and the glass refused to show me more. The friendly server topped it up with liquid thinking support. Five or six refills later, when the police still hadn't arrested me, I knew what I had to do.

The next day found me in the orbit lift, my head stuffed with cotton and my little backpack with the essentials I'd been able to buy with the cash in my pockets. Which wasn't much. Convinced I had nothing to lose and still a few decades ahead of me, according to my doctor, I was on my way to search for my luck among the stars.

First, I had to find a berth on a ship, though, and that turned out to be a challenge. In constant fear of the police arresting me, I did my best to disguise myself. In view of my financial limitations, I sacrificed my beloved moustache, cut my hair short, and slipped on an old-fashioned baseball cap I'd found in the box with the light bulbs. It was decorated with a strange symbol that looked like an N crossed with a Y—I hoped this stood for 'not yet' and meant my demise was still far in the future.

On the busy space station, I found out true spacers had a low opinion of dusters, as they called all planet dwellers. There was no use trying to hide the fact I hadn't ever seen the interior of a spaceship. My tan and musculature gave away I'd spent time outdoors and in planetary gravity. No captain, human or alien, considered hiring my services.

Also, cooks of any kind were not in demand in the age of exploration. Spaceships were fitted with nutrition dispensers instead of galleys, and each crew member could get synthesised food to their liking. What a life. I felt superfluous, outdated, and lost. Ready to cave in and return to the surface, I walked through the less reputable parts of the station towards the lift when my eye caught a sign that sent my heart speed soaring. "Pizza Palace," it said, and when I stopped in front of it, my eyes filled with tears.

"What's the matter, man?" The stranger was pale, with a mop of black hair and a friendly smile. "Need a beer and a pizza to cheer you up?"

"Wish it would be so easy. I need a job. Is this your place?" I pointed at the illuminated sign. "You don't need a pizzaiolo, perchance?"

He scrutinised me from head to toe, his gaze lingering on the spots of dried tomato sauce on my sneakers, before he looked me in the eye. "You any good, man?"

I raised my brows. "My Quattro Stagioni has been called a season of its own, and my calzone—well, it is to die for." Literally, but I would not elaborate. Instead, I accompanied my words with the motions of tossing the dough and my trademark elegant hip swing.

He grinned and reached out a hand. "Consider yourself hired for a probation period."

The stone that fell from my shoulders at his words must have left a dent in the deck planks. Marco, my new boss, and I became a great team. Soon, the reputation of the Pizza Palace reached far enough to keep the place full at the oddest hours and as we were two, we kept it open around the clock. I even considered looking for a girl to settle down with, happy with the current trajectory of my life.

I should have known things are never this easy. Two months later, I was about to take over the shift from Marco when blue tentacles waving above the crowd caught my attention. And... was that a blonde human with a perfect nose? I grabbed the sleeve of my partner before he could leave. "Who's this?"

"The party of an important alien on a diplomatic mission, if I gathered right. Kobalts or something. They just came in. I didn't have time to get their orders yet."

Uh-uh. Pictures of a stiff, tentacled figure glowing orange popped up in front of my mind's eye. I let Marco go, but ducked out of the place right behind him. I had no intention of getting caught by the Khobalians. Not now or ever.

Back in my quarter, I stuffed my meagre belongings into my backpack. Minutes later, I was on the flight deck, prepared to hitch whatever ride I could. I found a temporary berth as a cargo hauler on a freighter between Earth station and Kuiper Central. There, I took the bucks I'd earned and went looking for another job.

Kuiper Central Station was less sophisticated than Earth Orbit One and served mainly as a hub for the mining trade. A Lebanese couple ran the restaurant that hired me. They were happy to branch out, and pizza became a favourite with tired miners taking a break between hauls. There, I met Charlie. She was Hwowol, a race humanoid enough to get comfortable with. She also had her own ship, a rather derelict freighter she used for long-distance, inter-species trade of more or less legal goods. And she loved pizza.

Charlie, whose real name no one with a human larynx could pronounce, would drop by after each haul, order a house special and a large lager, and would hang out into the early hours. She was my kind of lass, whatever her species and colour.

The day the Khobalian party arrived, I had closed shop and was cleaning the tables. Charlie snored in a corner booth, her bald violet head with the mauve crest resting on her arm. When the tentacled aliens entered and called for drinks, I shrank back, trying to melt into the wall behind the bar and convince myself this might be different Khobalians and not to chicken out. Until I spotted the blonde chick while one of my unwelcome guests pointed a tentacle in my direction and emitted a burst of excited squeals.

Charlie appeared beside me, her violet eyes wide, and took my hand. "Why does it shout 'it's him, it's him'?"

"I... I'll tell you later. Have to get out of here first—like now."

And that's how I ended up as crew on Charlie's freighter, bound for a station further out, where the Khobalians wouldn't find me.

Charlie was good company, even if her ship seemed in permanent danger of falling apart. With her, I got to see half the galaxy. At least the parts frequented by more or less sapient and sane species. It was an interesting life, but I missed my pizza oven. So, I kept looking for a place to settle down—without success. Wherever I went, the Khobalians turned up shortly after. I'd learned there were only several thousands of them, but they seemed to have a knack for tracking me down in the most obscure and remotest spots.

"They like you," Charlie joked when a group of tentacled aliens approached us on Ticotan station.

"Sure. They'd like to kill me. Let's move on."

My friend only grinned, and instead of enjoying the famous entertainment of Ticotan's outer ring, we loaded our batch of cargo for a new human colony at the rim and travelled on. Until the memorable shift when an explosion tore me out of my sleep. This time, I was sure I was innocent. Unfortunately, this didn't change a thing. As soon as my ears cleared and the ship stopped vibrating, I rushed to the bridge. Charlie, pale and looking almost lilac, bowed over her screen.

"What's wrong?"

"The hyper drive just went up in a huge fireball. I think we only survived because the major link to the engine pod needed a replacement." She dropped into her captain's chair and ran her four-fingered hands over her crest.

"Hm, I take that as good news." I had learned long ago to look at the bright side of things.

Charlie shrugged. "Sure, we're alive and the shielding protected our part of the ship. The explosion pushed us away and out of danger. The bad news is that it hurled us out of hyperspace far from any established traffic route."

"Great. And what now?" Our outlook wasn't so bright, then. Her vacant violet gaze sent a shiver up my spine. "What about the conventional drive?"

"Functional. We can move at a snail's speed, to quote a human proverb." Charlie pulled up a star chart on her screen. "We won't get far on our limited manoeuvring fuel, and there's no station out here."

"Can we send a distress call?" I wasn't ready to lose hope, not as long as we both were alive and had a working air supply system.

"Already broadcasting, but it can take eons until anyone hears us." Charlie pointed at a planet on her screen. "This system could be interesting. The Geremy report classifies the fourth planet as habitable. If we use our fuel for an initial thrust and only make minor course adjustments, we should be able to reach it—in 46 point 07 standard cycles."

And that's what we did. It was our best hope if we didn't want to drift through mostly uncharted space forever. Forty-six cycles later, we reached the system and, with our last remaining fuel, parked the ship in orbit of the fourth planet. We were exhausted from monitoring and coercing our failing life support system to support us, but to see the world below was a reason for a celebration—even if the meal came from the replicator. While we ate what still tasted like cardboard to me, we studied the visuals and sensor readings.

The surface was covered by water with two major land masses in the south of the Southern Hemisphere. Vast zones of ice or snow reaching from the pole caps halfway to the equator spoke of a harsh climate.

Charlie smiled. "Seems we're lucky. Water, breathable air, even a rudimentary plant cover where the ice is not permanent."

"Looks like Earth during the last ice age. Any bigger life forms?"

"Nothing so far, and no sign of sapient inhabitants. We should observe the place a little longer."

I agreed. "Right, I have no intention of meeting the local equivalent of a sabre-toothed tiger or a T-Rex."

Charlie shook her head. "Always so dramatic. Let's catch some sleep while we gather more data. We don't need to land at all. Let's just wait for someone to pick up our distress signal and collect us."

The alarm tore me out of a pleasant dream of home. I still had the smell of a wood stove and fresh pizza in my nose when I arrived on the bridge. Charlie was about to start the impulse engine and waved me over. "Hurry and belt in."

I slumped into my seat. "What's it this time?"

"Gravity. We're going down. And we don't have enough fuel left to pull us away."

"But we were stable." I leaned forward to check her readings.

Her complexion was lilac again. "Sorry, I forgot to calculate the effects of the moons. There are three of them, and all aligned on the opposite side of the planet now. They affect our orbit."

"Will we die?"

Charlie looked at me, eyes wide. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

I gulped some air into my lungs, and she chuckled. "Of course not, silly. We will find a soft spot to land, and I'll keep the last drops of fuel to dampen the impact. I failed my astronomical maths exam, not piloting."

That day, I learned Charlie was not only the best friend I could wish for, but one hell of a pilot. She brought us down on manual control over a green field near a lake. Right before I finished my last prayer, sure we'd crash nose down, she levelled the ship with a single thrust. Moments later, the screeching of tortured metal cut through my ears while our cushioned seats took the brunt of the crash.

"Are you all right, Andrea?"

I only realised I had closed my eyes during the impact when I opened them. A quick check confirmed all my important body parts were still attached and functional. "Gee, Charlie, you did it."

"Right, and now, we have a planet to explore." She sounded far more cheerful than I thought a captain who crashed her ship should. But I wasn't about to spoil her eagerness.

Our new home was beautiful, albeit lonely. We found no animal life except for certain nematode-like creatures living in the coastal muck. It would take millennia until they made for decent company.

Charlie and I were on our own. We took stock of the things we could salvage from our cargo, and to my relief, we found behind the boxes with a vast collection of weird children's toys several crates with exotic seeds and provisions. The colony's luxury orders would allow us a good life until we could grow our own food.

As soon as she had established her ship would never fly again, Charlie started turning it into a planetary home. And what a home it made. The pizzeria we built under the left cargo pod was far better than the one I'd had back on Earth. We constructed an oven from ceramic tiles of the heat shield, and the spacey dining area offered room for twice the Khobalian ambassador's party. Unfortunately, the nematodes would not frequent it in the next millennia.

We enjoyed our inaugural homemade pizza when the visitors arrived. Their shuttle landed only a stone's throw from our landing site in our designated cabbage field. Charlie fumed. She had already marked the rows for the seedlings.

I tried to calm her. "Perhaps we should build a landing pad there and move the fields a bit to the left."

She shook her head, and her crest turned an angry red. "There should be a law against landing in someone's garden during dinner and without prior appointment."

I was tempted to point out that she hated laws, and that we had landed here only a few weeks ago without asking the nematodes' permission, either. But when the hatch of the shuttle opened and a blue-tentacled alien climbed out, my stomach turned, my blood pressure soared, and my vision blurred.

When I came to, Charlie's worried face hovered centimetres over mine. "Andrea? Are you ill?"

I felt like fainting again. "Khobalians. How did they find us?" My voice was squeaky, and I feared I was about to throw up.

"That might have been easy. Our ship still sends a distress signal with its registration number. But I think you should take a moment to listen to our visitors."

I didn't have many options, so I let Charlie help me sit up and braced myself for my long postponed and certainly painful demise.

Seven or eight Khobalians surrounded us, waving their tentacles and rolling their eyes. One moved forward and leaned in to study my face. "Are you Andrea Marcelli?"

"Why do you want to know?" My throat was parched and icy dread sloshed in my stomach.

"Are you?" The tentacles vibrated, their tips glowing a menacing orange.

Charlie placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and cleared her throat. "What if he is?"

"We would like to order the pizza."

"What?" I was out of my depth. "You chased me across the galaxy to order a pizza?"

"Not just any pizza. The pizza of pizzas. The one that sent Ambassador Khiry into a conception trance. Do you know how long it has been since a member of our species bred?"

I did not know, and neither did Charlie, to judge by the glance she sent me. The Khobalians looked at me with huge, puppy-seal eyes. I scratched my stubbled chin. "And you think my pizza was the cause the ambassador fell into that trance thing?"

The tentacles bobbed in unison. "The right combination of food has always been an important trigger. Their Excellency, the ambassador, gave birth to three healthy younglings after the consumption of the pizza. These were the first born since the extinction of the holy lalanpbishi plants on the planet of Khoba. Will you make the magic pizza for us?"

To cut things short, I did. Out of the seventeen guests, only one fell in trance. But this seemed enough for the Khobali government to offer me the planet as a permanent lease—under the sole condition I'd run a pizzeria there. Of course, I accepted.

When the Khobalian delegation left, Charlie and I climbed the hill behind our ship-turned-pizzeria to watch the sunset. Our planet was peaceful, but not lonely anymore. And no longer off the chart. I pointed at the plain below. "You know, one day, this will bustle with activity. An orbital spaceport will spew first settlers, then traders and refugees, and tourists in the end."

Charlie shrugged. "I know. But it will take a while until it becomes crowded. And until then, we have our own planet to enjoy."

I grinned. "And an extension to the pizzeria to build. Our benefactors will want the food delivered. The goods—whatever."

She grinned back. "Might as well add a maternity ward and a nursery. And soon, you'll be the godfather of a bunch of tiny Khobalians. Congrats!"

The horror of this prospect faded when Charlie's arm sneaked around my back. Not even dozens of baby Khobalians could overshadow the pleasure of having a pizzeria again—and her by my side. A pang of guilt made me shudder. "Charlie, I wanted to tell you..."

"What?"

"I feel bad about your ship. Whenever we make some money, we'll buy you a new one."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why do you think I'd want a new ship?"

"Um. Don't you?"

She chuckled, pointing at the wreck. "The only good thing that came from this heap of rust is that it brought us here. All I need to be happy is a lager and another seasoned mushroom pizza with mozzarella and honey."

"Oh, that's all?" I felt my spirits drop—until she squeezed my butt.

"And you, of course. The best pizzaiolo in the galaxy."