Intergalactic Coffee

Tron strode purposefully into the Stars in your Eyes coffee shop. No-one could accuse him of cowardice. Not that anyone would, on pain of possibly horrible and potentially slow what with all the forms that had to be filled out these days - death, but that was beside the point.  He went straight to the bar, pushed past the other creatures waiting for their Constellation Half-Cafes and Moon-Mochas,  and growled at the seven-handed humanoid behind the counter.



“Coffee Comet. Now. With extra stardust-sweetener.”



The server didn’t look up from the machine it was operating, one hand stirring milk, another grinding coffee granules, one testing the temperature of the coffee and at least three others turning various dials .



“If you’ll wait your turn, sir...”



Tron leant across the counter and grabbed the creature’s spare arm.



“That’s the Mighty Lord of Tron and all surrounding systems, soon-to-be ruler of the Galaxy to you, sonny! Now Get. Me. My. Coffee!”



The humanoid, to its credit, barely flinched. It placed a cup of bubbling Hazelnut Hubble on the counter,  and looked up at him.



“Ah yes, The Lord of Tron. There’s someone waiting for you.” It pointed to a dark corner of the shop, where a figure sat in the shadows with two cups of coffee on the small table of front of it. Tron grunted, released the server and stomped over to the table. He sat down awkwardly on the low, squashy sofa.



A calloused hand emerged out of the shadows and pushed a cup of black coffee towards him. Tron squinted into the darkness.



“The so-called Lord of Trun and all surrounding systems, I presume?”



“And soon-to-be ruler of the Galaxy, actually.” The creature moved forwards into the light. “And I am the Lord of Trun, that has never been disputed.” It glared at Tron. “I won’t say I’m pleased to meet you.”



“Likewise,” Tron muttered, regarding his coffee with the utmost suspicion. “You should know, by the way, that I have five of my most trusted bodyguards undercover in this shop, and ten patrolling the streets outside, and a thousand marshalled at a secret location not far from here with strict orders to come and get me by whatever means necessary if I haven’t returned within the hour, and to avenge my death with the utmost savagery if it should come to that.”



Trun raised his single eyebrow. “As do I. I have satellites in orbit, too, ready to blow up this whole  asteroid if I should be dishonoured here.”



“Oh yes, I have those as well. On the next planet along too, in case I get particularly angry.”



Trun nodded appreciatively. “Good move! Always catch ‘em by suprise, that’s what I say.” He took a gulp of his Iced Moon Latte. “Now, let’s get this over with, Tron.” Tron sniffed his coffee tentatively, then took a swig.



“Yes, let’s. I’m not gonna pretend I want to be here, Trun. It’s just my subjects, whining and complaining all the time. We didn’t want this war. Why should we have to fight in it? Because you’re bloody subjects, that’s why! That’s what you’re for!”



“Yes, that’s exactly it! Why don’t people just blindly obey anymore?” Trun leant forwards, speaking conspiratorially across the table. “I tell you what, Tron, it would have been fine if the bloody wives didn’t get involved. We could have gone on warring, like in the good old days of our fathers!”



“Yeah! Then they have to come in all like, go and have a nice sit-down somewhere and talk it through, dears, I’m sure you’ll be able to come to some sort of adult decision.”



Trun looked around nervously. “Hey, keep it down a bit, would you? I’m pretty sure the missis has her own spies in here as well. I don’t like the look of that sphinx over there.”  Tron quickly turned his head to look, then stared furiously down at the table, speaking very quietly whilst attempting not to move his lips at all.



“No, no, no, that’s not one of yours. That’s my wife’s sister. By the gods. She’s really not going to let this one go.”



Trun was staring at the table furiously as well. “My wife’s mother just walked in. The half-dragon with the bright pink hat?”



Tron risked a look round again.  There was, indeed, a formidable-looking older woman with a spectacular pink creation covering most of her top half and a lethal spiky tail and claws on the other half.



“I don’t suppose...” Trun looked up at him.



“Well, look, there’s this small moon my wife doesn’t know anything about. We could, you know, meet up there every so often and have a short battle. You know, a good bit of honest bloodshed.”



“And in the meantime... a peace treaty?”



“Yeah. I’ll rule Tron, you rule Trun, and we’ll leave the rest of the galaxy for now, eh?”



“Agreed. Gotta keep the missis happy. ” Trun stood up, and threw his chest out. “Humble subjects!” he announced to the shop in general. “I and the Lord Tron have reached an agreement which is greatly to my liking! Our systems are no longer in direct conflict! Mark this day well, puny  peasants, as the day when your overlords allowed you to live in peace once more!” A few people looked round, and one purple creature waved at him to stop proclaiming and mind his own business. Trun waved magnanimously back, whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Tron - “My wife’s going to the space-spa on Jaglam Beta next Thursday” - and strode proudly out of the coffee shop.