The water which I had a moment before drawn from a filthy reservoir, I extolled as having flowed from a spring created by Ali in person, equal to the sacred well of Zem Zem, and a branch of the river which flows through Paradise. It is inconceivable how it was relished, and how considerable was the money I received for giving it gratis.

Before you read this short story I have to explain it's origins and the meaning behind it.

This was written as a gift for my best friend. He's a huge Star Wars fan (as am I), and I love Aliens (as if anyone who reads my blogs can attest).

At the Calgary Comic and Entertainment Expo in 2015 we both Cosplayed and had our photo taken together.

Thus the story was born.

It was also written to be humorous! I had a couple of readers bash it because it was too 'cliche' and did not make any sense.

The fact that I have to explain it... well...

This is a crossover of two of my favorite SF universes. I purposely used as many lines as I could and tried my best to make it funny.

Those who understood that was the point of the story loved it.

Those who did not... I won't go there.

Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy this little tale!

'We shall soon see that,' answered the prince. 'Call the ferashes,' said he to one of his officers, 'and let them beat the rogues on the soles of their feet till they produce the fifty ducats.'

The were immediately seized, and when their feet were in the air, strongly tied with a noose, and after receiving a few blows, they confessed that they had taken the money, and produced it.

I discovered what I had before suspected, that he was a man of consequence, for he was no less a personage that the court poet, enjoying the title of Melek al Shoherah, or Prince of Poets. He was on his road from Shiraz (whither he had been sent by the Shah on business) to Teheran, and had that very day reached Ispahan, when he had fallen into our hands. In order to beguile the tediousness of the road through the Salt Desert, after I had related my adventures, I requested him to give me an account of his, which he did . . . .


Their speculation in man-stealing having proved so unfortunate, they were in no very good humour with their excursion, and there was a great difference of opinion amongst them, what should be done with such worthless prisoners. Some were for keeping the Cadi (judge), and killing the poet and the ferash (a carpet-spreader), and others for preserving the Cadi for ransom, and making the ferash a slave; but all seemed to be for killing the poet.



At length, after much discussion, it was agreed I should be their guide in Isphahan; that two men should ride close on each side of me, and in case I showed the least symptom of treachery in my movements, kill me on the spot.