Flash Fiction

He spoke to me, without introduction, in galactic standard english.  He was intense and insistent.  Half-way across the galaxy, light years from anywhere and I get buttonholed by the only other human on this backwater planet.  And he’s a bloody tourist.  Wants to know the must see places, where to eat, the best hotels.  So, I tell him.  Just to get rid of him.  Pompous sod.

What I don’t tell him is; I’m a revolutionary, I’m just about to leave the planet, I’ve introduced a lethal bacterium into the water supply system, this planet has one day left, he’s dead.