Dip Reinegger and the High Council of Neldar

Dip Reinegger and The High Council of Neldar

Listen up, Dipheads. Even a man with a jawline that cuts like a diamond-edged bayonet occasionally finds himself in a legal pickle. I was recently summoned to appear before the High Council of Neldar, a bunch of wimpy politicians in glowing bathrobes who act as this part of the galaxy’s supreme court.

The Incident

I was cruising past the moon of Neldar 4 when I got stopped at an infrared light. A massive, gold-plated luxury yacht was stopped in front of me. When the light turned nova, the yacht didn’t move.

I give a tap of the klaxon to him but still, we’re stopped. Being a man of action, I decided to give him a little nudge with the #starkween.

Well, I might have had a few too many florgs that night and maybe my hand slipped a little bit and maybe I was fed up with fat cats like this guy hogging the space lanes. Whatever the case, I went full-throttle into the tail end of this fancy bucket, which as it turns out, belonged to a local Viceroy called Zint.

As you might know, gold doesn’t make for very good hull plating. So, I ripped through her like a chainsaw through a chili dog, totaling the yacht while getting a screaming earful from Zint over the comms.

The Trial

"Dip Reinegger," the Lead Arbiter boomed from his floating throne. "You are charged with destroying the Viceroy's personal transport. How do you plead?"

“I plead ‘kiss my aft, Arbiter,’” I answered, straightening myself up to my full and glorious height as Roban stood by helplessly yet handsomely.

If the Council wasn’t ready to throw me into a black-hole prison before, they were probably more inclined to now. That is, until the recovery drones brought in a piece of the wreckage. I noticed a weird, purple mist leaking from one of the Viceroy’s "luxury" cargo containers.

The Big Reveal

"Hey, Roban, scan that purple junk with your face laser," I whispered.

Roban’s eyes glowed blue. "Dip, that is concentrated Chrono-Dust. It is a highly illegal substance used to power black-market time-warpers. The Viceroy wasn't carrying diplomats; he was running a massive smuggling operation."

“Objection,” I yelled. “We have new evidence to enter.”

The Viceroy started sweating green slime as Roban projected the ship's hidden manifests onto the courtroom wall. It turns out the luxury yacht had a false bottom stuffed with enough contraband to buy a small solar system.

Dip Saves the Day (Again)

The Council went quiet. The Lead Arbiter turned his glare from me to the trembling Viceroy. Within seconds, the Viceroy was being hauled away in gravity-cuffs.

"It seems, Mr. Reinegger, that your reckless driving has inadvertently dismantled a major criminal enterprise," the Arbiter said, both surprised and pleased.

"Inadvertently? I smelled that smuggling caper three light-years away," I lied, flashing a million-dollar smile at the gallery.

They dropped all the charges. They gave me a cool surprise and even offered me a "Certificate of Commendation," which is currently acting as a very fancy coaster for my mug of florg. Dip Reinegger: one, Space Corruption: zero.

Dip Reinegger and the High Council of Neldar