If you like hilarious science fiction adventures like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Space Team, and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, you’ll love Thad Saves the Galaxy!
An evil tyrant wants to rule the galaxy. A team of oddballs must stop him.
An alien named Zinka drops into Thaddeus Kinglsey’s life and he finally gets the adventure he’s been waiting for. Zinka’s being pursued across the Milky Way by the evil galactic tyrant, Derask, and needs help repairing her ship. Thad jumps at the chance to do something extraordinary and begins an adventure he will never forget. Unfortunately, helping Zinka has some unintended consequences.
With the Earth a smoldering cloud of debris, Thad and Zinka begin a quest across the galaxy to put an end to Derask’s tyranny. This dynamic twosome recruits a colorful cast of characters to their cause: Tik, a mighty Demerian with a penchant for mind altering substances, Pangaea, a sarcastic humanoid who is more then she seems, Danny, the only other Earthling left who happens to be a dreadlocked pot dealer, Leonidas, a lovesick Voltan hero, and Preet, the shapeshifting Queen of the Mercenaries. But they need more than a gang of friends to defeat Derask. They need ships, and lots of them.
Can this oddball team find a way to take down the galaxy’s most powerful dictator? Does winging it ever really work? Can you find love on a planet full of mercenaries? These questions and more are answered in this whimsical romp across the Milky Way.
What Reviewers are Saying about Thad Saves the galaxy
“When I read the description of the book, I thought it could go one of two ways: either I’d love it or hate it. Well, I loved it. It reminds me of Hitchhiker’s Guide but with more action. Thad is a character I can relate to. Earth is destroyed and it’s up to him and a collection of friends he meets to build an alliance to take down the evil space dictator Derask. A bit tropey? Sure, but it works. I hope there is a part 2.” - DTM
“This is fun book. If you’re looking for some hard scifi space opera, look elsewhere. If you’re looking for an outrageous adventure full of weird characters, then buy this book. I highly recommend it.” - Eric S.
“I really enjoyed this story! And look forward to many more!!! If you love humor and science fiction, definitely recommend!” - Sean F.
“This is a must read sci-fi adventure and dark comedy like no other. A humor filled adventure that blends elements of Seth MacFarlane’s recent space epic show The Orville with George Lucas’s world building in the Star Wars universe and the humor of a Seth Rogen film. You are not going to want a single second of this hilarious book.” - Anthony Avina
“This book definitely has Hitchhiker vibes, but it's in no way a copy of that classic. C. T. Fleck's writing has a more sardonic edge to it. Recommended for a fun read!” - Lavender Lilly
Space is both endless and constantly expanding. It’s a contradictory statement, but that’s what existence is. Everyone on this planet is both unimportant and vital at the same time. Anyone can make a difference, even if you’re not important and no one knows your name. My name is Thaddeus Kingsley. Fancy name, I know, but I’m far from it.
Now I have a question for you. Have you ever pondered if there is life outside of our own little world? Considering the sheer immensity of the universe and factoring in the Drake Equation, other life must exist. Yes, I am aware of the Rare Earth Theory, but it just doesn’t make sense to me. Regarding the enormity of the universe, can anything really be rare? Getting off topic again. The bottom line is that, statistically, we are not alone. There is a possibility of thousands or even millions of races of intelligent life in our own little galaxy. Races that are so much more advanced than the talking apes on this planet, and unintelligent races as well (but this isn't about them).
I know we keep hearing things about aliens. Like people saying that they’ve gotten abducted only to have bizarre things shoved up their sphincters. Which is an odd thing for an alien to do, if you think about it. In addition, there are those oh so lovely tabloid magazines. They inevitably have titles like, “Alien Found in Woods,” or “Man Sleeps with Alien,” or even, “Alien Woman Gives Birth to Alien Human Hybrid Baby in Underground Base in Toledo.” Well, you can never trust those things. Trust me, I know. There’s nothing in Toledo. Toledo is completely void of anything even remotely interesting.
This story isn't about tabloids, Toledo, or non-consensual sphincter exploration, though. The story does have exploding heads, dirty words, weed, and descriptions of extraterrestrial genitals, so there is that to look forward to.
Now, I don't know about you, but I always looked towards the sky wondering if a faraway race was looking at the star we call Sol (our sun) and considering what could be around that dot in the night sky. It is possible some race already knows that humans exist but just never really gave a damn about us because of how primitive we appear.
Seriously, we are just apes that use our manmade construct of diversity to fuel our own narcissism. Racism, homophobia, sexism, nationalism; it's all just fodder to raise our own opinions of ourselves. I'm this race. They are that race. I must be better. I'm this sexual orientation. They are that one. I must be better. I have this between my legs. They have something different down there. I must be better. I'm from here. They're from there. I must be better. People just love feeling so damn superior. That's why ancient man used to believe we were the center of the universe and why some people feel like they are the center of the universe today.
If I was part of an alien race, intelligent enough to develop faster than light speed travel, I would stay the hell away from us too. Honestly, I already want to stay away from us but, unfortunately, I’m stuck on this rock (or at least I thought I was). I came across aliens, anal probe free (I feel a little insulted by that). Some of them seemed reasonably friendly. Others, however, were just a bunch of pricks. This is how it all went down.
The sun peeks through the blinds of my bedroom windows. I get out of bed and check the clock. Why the hell did I wake up at seven in the morning on a Saturday? Why does morning have to exist? Oh well, bitching does nothing productive. I get up and head to the bathroom. Time to get ready for the day. I shower in my ordinary shower. I dress in my ordinary clothes. I brush my ordinary teeth.
At least I don't have to go to work today. My job is one of the most loathed occupations in existence. Probably should have tried harder in school so I wouldn't be stuck in a shitty fast food job. I can't tell you the place I work for, you know, lawsuit reasons. I will say this, though: I'm not lovin’ it.
It probably would have also helped if I was smarter. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a complete idiot. I'm not a flat-earther. I’m not one of those people that blame everything on video games. I'm not one of those people who blame Obama for the 9/11 terror attacks. With all those factors accounted for, I could be a lot higher on the intelligence scale. But, basically, I am just stupendously average.
Another day in paradise, I guess. Leaving my apartment for my first smoke of the day, I look at the early morning rays blasting down on the hard, concrete sidewalks of my town. I know that I should quit smoking. I know it’s unhealthy. I know that it’s expensive, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. The nicotine makes me happy and disappointed at the same time. Which is probably how my parents feel about me.
The people around me are hurrying off to their jobs or their duties as my useless ass is just sitting around getting fat and taking up precious space. Seems to be my greatest talent, taking up space. A close number two is probably the getting fat thing.
The smoke fills my lungs as my eyes scour the hick town that is my home. This is my life. The smoke pours out of my nose as I exhale. Looking up at the bright sunshine sort of makes me feel out of place. The rays seem happy as does all sunshine for some reason. Yet, I feel drab. It’s almost as if the entire world is a little happy that I’m miserable. Stupid bastard world.
At least I have my own world. My world always seems to look so much better masked by a thick layer of carcinogenic smoke. The smoke obscures a little of the sunshine. Almost as if my body is in a haze. My sense of peace comes back to me as I welcome the foreign cancerous substance into my body. If bodies are temples than mine is one of those that love burning incense. But, instead of incense it’s cigarettes.
It's a shame, though. As my thoughts drift off into nothingness, my cigarette burns down. With puff after puff, my personal time comes closer to an end. I hit it for the last time before the butt is reached by the burning tip. The remains get put out in my ash tray and I walk back into my solitary apartment shutting the door behind me and blocking out all that happy sunshine. Stupid sunshine. Stupid world. Stupid life.
Another ordinary day in my boring existence. When is something exciting going to happen around here? It’s always the same thing. I really need change. There has got to be more to the world than this. Drugs are fun, but even that gets boring after a while. In the past, I have made efforts to change things up. Some of them were realistic goals. Others were a stretch. Part of me just wants to accomplish something that would make me as good of a person as my mom thinks I am. I wish that life would just change.
The dull routine of life gets everyone down now and again, me included. Oh well, that's life, I guess. Long, boring, and essentially meaningless when you get down to the truth. Sounding like a nihilist right now.
The day is spent drinking my booze and smoking my cigs. There are also large amounts of reefer going into my lungs. Everyone has their vices, though. In my case, it’s multiple vices. Hooray for vices.
Night has fallen faster than I can focus on it. That’s how it always goes. The days spent off work always go by in a flash. While, the days when one is at work drag on for eons.
Taking a glance out of my window, the sky takes my attention for a moment. Stars glimmer, and I realize it's time for another smoke. I leave my apartment and go into the cool night air. Fire from the lighter catches the tip of my cancer stick so that I may start welcoming the smoke into my body. I love my private time. It's so peaceful. It's so quiet.
“Help me! Somebody, help!” comes a woman's voice from seemingly nowhere.
Well, so much for my quiet time. I make my way over to where I heard the scream. Nothing could have prepared me for what I see: six rednecks chanting nonsense. The chanting is incomprehensible, or it may be because thick southern accents make what they’re saying even harder to grasp. This is odd considering I live in rural New York. The accents do sound a little fake, though. Almost like these people are just wannabe rednecks.
Then my eyes see the source of the scream. A young woman cowering against a wall. The stereotypical ginger. She has the red hair, the freckles, and the pale skin. Now could be the time to make a soulless redhead joke, but that’s just in poor taste. I wanted something different but not this. I should have been more specific with my wish. I guess that this is still an opportunity to do the right thing and make my mom proud.
“What the hell is going on here?” I question as I stand between the girl and the impromptu angry mob. “You kind folks want to explain why you are cornering a young woman?”
The biggest one, who I am assuming is the leader of the posse, steps forward. His large beer belly protruding from his flannel vest. The shirt is about two sizes too small for him. It’s like he wanted to show off the muscles that he doesn’t have. Now, it is never right to body shame someone, but when someone is an asshole, you tend to feel less guilty about it. A tattoo of a burning confederate flag adorns the wide flabby canvas that is his arm. The words “The South Will Rise Again” were written above it. The meaning of the tattoo is lost on me, though. If he thinks the South will rise again, then why is he burning what is now viewed as the symbol for the confederacy? The large man speaks in a booming voice which is laced with his faux southern dialect.
“This here is an alien. I watched her change into a disguise myself,” he slurred.
It's obvious this guy has had one too many whiskey shots today. Not to mention that he reeks of a brewery mixed with a slight hint of chewing tobacco. It’s very aromatic.
“Alien? Look, I know rednecks hate foreigners, but this is kind of extreme. Don't you think?” I reply confusedly as I stumbled into what is my version of a fighting stance. Did I mention that I don't know how to fight?
Shit might get ugly. I knew I should have taken karate classes or something. Then I could just go kung-fu on their asses. Who am I kidding? My laziness makes any attempt to improve myself completely futile.
“No, you god damn Liberal. Like an alien. You know, coming from outer space and whatnot.” Captain Inbred drunkenly slurred. “And I ain't lettin no E.T. probe me. I ain't gay. I don't roll like that.”
My mouth momentarily hangs agape. I just stare at the man in shock trying to comprehend the amount of stupidity that has just entered my ears. What the hell is wrong with this man? If I had to make a guess, I would say that inbreeding is somehow involved.
“Okay first off, there is nothing wrong with gay people. Homosexuality is a very natural thing. Second, why would an alien capable of traveling an immense amount of light years care what's in your ass? And third an alien, really?”
“Hey, you socialist,” he said while getting in my face. There are few things in this world worse than alcohol breath. “I seen it. There I was, just minding my own business, telling this girl that she would look much prettier sitting on my face.”
He seems so charming. The man continues his ramblings.
“She was not interested. I’m guessing cuz she is one of those queer sexuals.”
Yes, because what woman wouldn’t fall for this guy’s wit? I think I may already be smitten. My zoned-out look does nothing to deter him, so he keeps talking.
“But as you know, women exist only to bang men. They never do their job, though. Hell, it has been years since I’ve been with a woman like God intended. They owe it to men sleep with us. That’s why the bible says the gays is wrong.”
My lord. Why would I care about that? Plus, I didn’t think to judge that he was one of those weirdos that feel entitled to sex (although it makes sense now that I think about it). He probably blames things like feminism and common decency. It also might help if he took a shower. He just keeps going on with his story.
“Then, she turned into a giant bug. I gathered my friends and we started chasing her. Trust me, I seen it with my own two eyes.”
He finishes off the last sentence by pointing at both of his eyeballs. Seems to be an irrelevant gesture considering everyone knows what eyes are.
“So, in your drunken haze, you think a woman is an alien, so your immediate reaction is ‘let's kick her ass!’?” I ask, genuinely trying to follow this guy’s logic.
“We is gonna show her what happens when you mess with Earth.”
“How very Christian of you. Hey, that person is different, so let's murder her because Jesus would want us to.” I reply while rolling my own eyes.
“Don’t mock my faith, you socialistic snowflake!” He shouts at me.
“Yeah okay then. Hey, I have a question. How many shots did you have today?”
“What's that have to do with anything?”
“You're drunk. Go home and sleep it off, big guy.” I reply as I look at the five other hillbillies here.
They all seem sober, enough, so I turn my attention to them.
“And you guys, what the hell are you doing? I know that the whole mob mentality thing is infectious, but you guys were ready to attack a young woman because a drunkard says she’s an alien? What the hell were you thinking?”
This seems to have quelled their rage. Some look down in shame at what they could have done. So, I continue.
“Now, you guys go home, and will someone make sure the big guy here gets home safe? Don't want him drinking and driving.”
I look back at the rotund man just in time to see a fist coming at my face. Now, I may have accomplished any number of things from the time that I noticed the fist until it reached my face. Counting to one is something that I could have started. Coming up with a reason why I'm more qualified to lead the country than President Landon is another. Reconsidering some of the life choices that I’ve made is yet another. I had no time to block or dodge the blow however, as I feel his hand collide with my left eye, the absolute force of it knocking me on my ass. A stinging feeling shoots across my face. That’s going to hurt tomorrow. Hell, it hurts right now.
“Dammit Bubba,” one of the spectators says. “You can't go around hitting people again. Remember what the judge said after the last time.”
He then grabs him and holds him back from striking again. Of course, they call him Bubba. Can you get anymore hillbilly than that? Maybe if someone gave him a banjo and he was masturbating to the likeness of Robert E. Lee. Oh, please sweet, non-existent god, don't let anyone give him a banjo or a picture of Lee. Not sure which one of those would be worse.
The rednecks start to walk away, two of them needing to drag the leader out of there as he was yelling, “She's an alien! You all will see!”
Hmm, he may be an alright guy when sober, key word: may. I don’t know him personally. As a drunk, however, that guy is a lunatic. I stand up and instantaneously grab at my eye. Shit, that hurts. And the butt pain from landing on the hard ground coursing through both of my cheeks doesn’t help.
My attention turns back to the girl. I see she is still curled up in a little ball, cowering against the wall. As I get closer to her, my nostrils are filled with the delightful scent of cookie dough. She smells delicious.
I bend down and put a hand on her shoulder hoping to comfort her. This has the opposite effect. The action nearly makes her jump out of her skin and causes another fist to collide with my left eye. Why is it my left eye again? Why can't life just throw a little variety my way and have the next one come for my right eye? Change is good, dammit.
“Ow, god dammit!” I yell as I clutch my eye.
“Oh shit.” I hear her exclaim. “I'm so sorry. It was a reflex. Are you okay?”
“Hey, it's fine. If it makes you feel any better, you have a much better right hook than the hillbilly.”
She stops trembling and gazes up at me. I see her eyes for the first time, and I'm shocked to see that they are orange, and I mean entirely orange. It must be colored contacts. Who am I to judge? If this girl wants her eyes all orange, that's her business. I have no right to tell others what they can do with their bodies.
“Thank you,” she replies quietly.
“Hey no problem. You know, if I wasn't feeling generous, I would have laid his ass out.” I say trying to hide the fact that I'm a wussy with false bravado. ”Are you okay?”
“Yes. I didn't know what happened. Suddenly, they just started chasing me. Shouting obscenities at me as well.”
“Yeah well, welcome to New Haven, the town filled with assholes…and me. I’m not an asshole, though. I am delightful. I haven't seen you here before. You must be new.”
“I don't know how to...” she started, but she is interrupted by a loud static sound.
Suddenly, her entire body seems fuzzy like it’s just simply data. Before I know it, the sweet, pretty girl in front of me is replaced with a green creature. It has two large orange orbs as eyes. No nose or ears. Two antennae were atop her head where her hair used to be, giving her a bug-like appearance, except that her antennae curled behind her head and down to her lower back. Her boobs seem to have disappeared. Probably because her species doesn’t breast feed their young. Not one hundred percent on that, but it seems like a safe assumption.
But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Replaced again with the young girl. I see her eyes go large with fear and anticipation as she was waiting for my reaction. Finally, I muster up a response. The only one I could possibly think of for what I just witnessed.
“Well, that's something you don't see every day.”
She looks at me confused like she was expecting some grander reaction. Some negative response to her glitch thingy. Really anything except an overstating of the obvious. Little does she know, one of my top talents is stating the obvious. Wait a minute, that means that I have three talents. Woo, I’m a triple threat.
“What?” she asks perplexedly.
“I wasn't lying. It's not every day you see a staticky alien. Well, I mean, you might see it every day, but I sure as hell don't. “
“Why aren’t you freaking out like that other member of your race?”
“I knew aliens existed. I mean, come on, a vast number of galaxies and solar systems but this rock is the only one that is special enough to have life on it? That would just be stupid. Looking at it in either a religious or scientific way, it would just be stupid. I am a little shocked to see one here, though. Especially considering how many light years the nearest planet with the right conditions for life would be but, hey, it is what it is.”
She just stares at me, confused. That brings up a question however that I need to voice.
“How do you speak the same language as me?”
“Well, I highly doubt an alien race would speak fluent English. Hell, I don’t even speak fluent English.”
“This necklace,” she says as she points to her choker, “allows me to understand and speak the language of any being I am talking to.”
“How does that work?” I question.
“Well, you see the device picks up on waves emitted from the...”
And that is all I heard until she lost me with her science mumbo jumbo. I really should have paid more attention during science classes in school. I highly doubt, however, that knowing what fusion and fission are would help me understand what the hell this lady is saying. My zoned-out stare must have lasted longer than I originally anticipated because I hear her now elevated voice.
“Hey, are you okay? You were staring off into nothingness for my entire explanation?”
“Yes,” I lie. “That just allows me to better absorb info.”
I nailed that lie.
She looks at me skeptically as if considering my response and then finally just seems to shrug it off. I decide to take a crack at guessing the basic gist of what she probably said.
“Your necklace acts as a sci-fi trope that is pretty much just a cop out to help explain one of the biggest issues of dealing with different alien species that originated from a different evolutionary tree.”
She appears to pretty much ignore my comment. She knows that I’m right. She can’t deny it.
Then my ears pick up the staticky sound again and my eyes see the fuzz. I know her disguise is going to go on the fritz again. At least, we are the only ones out here. At times like this I really wish my brain would be better at remembering the tried and true Murphy’s Law. What can go wrong will go wrong.
Due to said Murphy’s Law, it is at this time that I notice a young couple walking towards us. My first thought being, ‘oh shit, it may turn into another angry mob.’ So, without thinking, I remove my sweatshirt and throw it over her, making sure the hood covers her head. As soon as the hoodie is settled, her disguise is gone. I must have reflexes like a god damn ninja. The couple passes without a second thought. My attention goes back to her and I notice her disguise is still gone.
“Why did you?” she asks not really finishing the question, but common sense and basic thought can fill in the blank.
“I don't want to cause anymore panic. Plus, you’ve done nothing wrong, that I know of, so you don't deserve what will happen if they find out you're an alien.”
“What would happen?” she asks clearly terrified.
“I…honestly don't know but judging by Bubba’s reaction, it probably wouldn't be too good. Some religious nut-jobs might even start claiming you're a demon or the Antichrist here to usher in the second coming of Satan or whatever the hell they think is going to happen. Maybe, the government will come to do a vivisection on you to try and figure out how all of your organs do the whole organ thing?”
Seeing her now horrified expression, I decide to try and steer the conversation on a different route.
“Now why hasn't your little disguise thingy kicked back on yet?”
“I don't know. It appears to have malfunctioned, and I don't feel comfortable being exposed like this. What if those large humans come back?” She replies while examining her ring.
“Hey, I have an idea that can't possibly come back on me. Why don't you just come to my apartment and hide out till you get your do-hickey fixed?”
“You would hide an alien in your home? But why?”
“This is the most exciting thing to happen in a long time. Not sure if you know this but this town is terrible and dull. Don't ask me to think about my actions. Now onward to adventure.”
“I thought we were going to your home?”
“Just follow me.” I say as I lead her to my shitty little dwelling. “By the way my name is Thaddeus, but people usually just call me Thad.”
“You can call me Zinkatianalynn Delcheroseantia.”
“Alright... I'm just gonna call you Zinka.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It's a nickname.”
“What is a nickname?”
“It's a name someone else gives you.”
“Why would you give me a name when I already have one?”
“Cause it’s... Well, it's just what humans do.”
“Alright then Thad. I will give you a nickname as well.”
“Well,” I start, “technically Thad is a nickname.”
“I will give you one of my own nicknames. You shall be known as Little Balls.”
“Wait, what? Why?”
“Cause your eyeballs are half the size of mine.”
“I don't think that would be the best nickname.”
“It is too late, Little Balls. I have already dubbed you as such,” she says with an almost mischievous smile on her face.
Part of me thinks she knows the joke there. How would she know the joke there? Does she know that balls are slang for male genitalia?
“Ugh fine.” I surrender as we make our way to my tiny little apartment.
Now, usually I'm skeptical of people coming in to my place, but an alien can't possibly have any grasp on how humans live. She won't know that I'm severely lower class. I open and then close the door to my apartment after we both step inside. She removes the hood and takes a calculating look around. I see her taking in every detail of the diminutive space. She turns towards me to ask a question.
“Do all humans live in such a cramped environment? This place seems so small. You can't really get any work done.”
Great, even an alien knows my place sucks. God damn my wallet for being empty.
“Well, people live in different size accommodations.” I simply reply.
“Oh, I see. You are just lacking the monetary credits needed for a bigger place.”
Stupid, smart alien woman knowing I'm broke. She continues.
“Judging by your living conditions on my planet, you would probably be a mindless service drone.”
“Well here, I work in the fast-food industry, so I guess it's the same thing. Well except my employer is just another corporation that puts profits ahead of their human employees’ wellbeing just so it can shove a disgusting burger down people’s throats.” But she probably doesn’t care about any of this.
“Now let's begin our amazing adventure!”
“Why are you yelling?” She asks, holding her antennae to shield them.
“To build excitement for our adventure!”
“I will never understand humans. Now I require quiet so that I can concentrate on seeing what's wrong with my disguise ring.”
“Okay. Then let's get ready for quiet!” I hoarsely whisper as I sit down and wait for her to finish fixing her thingy.
She simply rolls her eyes and removes her ring. She opens a side panel and starts examining the bit of alien tech. I have no idea what I'm looking at, but there are lots of blinking lights in there. It reminds me of what a drug induced rave party would look like if it had a sci-fi theme. If I ever attended one of those. Which I did not.