Astro-Nuts

by Logan Hunder

  He reached the bridge and burst through the door, skidded across the floor, and faceplanted into his communications officer’s sweaty bean bag chair. He should have sunk in further, given the furniture’s foamy physique, but there was a peculiar hard crust across the top that his cheeks just simply bounced off instead. He hopped to his knees nevertheless and ignored the salty taste in his mouth. This was where he needed to be. There were actually a few main control hubs on the ship, but this one was the closest.

  Hoping to find that fancy-dancy ship-tracking software, Cox first searched for the desktop. He rapidly clicked his fingers, indiscriminately closing his way through cat videos, webcomics, fanfics, conspiracy theory forums, and finally a Google Space tracker counting down how long until they reached their destination, before finally the proper screen could be found. All could have been avoided if he knew how to press Win+D.

  After all the hassle, the desktop shone before his already screen-fatigued eyes. He hung his head in defeat when he found it to be packed with links and saved copies of cat videos, webcomics, fanfics, conspiracy theories, and countless superfluous junk icons simply filling space in the Borg Cube they were all arranged into.

  “Aw, you’re killin’ me, Donny!” The captain protested at the screen. “I just wanna know where Whisper is!”

  Upon his request, a small window opened in the corner of the screen. It appeared to contain a blueprint of the Jefferson, complete with little blips just as the captain imagined it. One of them seemed to be blinking as well. A small yin and yang logo creeping along one of the ventilation shafts.

  “Oh, that’s cool!” He rubbed his hands together for a second then paused. “If a little bit racist . . . But hey, she hasn’t made it to her room yet. What’s the command to flush the vents? Oh. I guess that was it. Wow, she’s moving a lot faster than I thought she would.”

  He winced at the screen.

  “I really shoulda had them build rounder corners in there . . . But at least she’s safe now! Now where is Mister Nobody?”

  The focus shifted left to a new, blue-blinking blip. Its symbol was a question mark.

  “Wow,” He whispered. “Technology is amazing. I don’t even know who I’m talking about and you know who I’m talking about! You’re a good computer. I like you.”

  The computer did not respond. That was very rude of it. Its designation of “good” was now being called into question.

  “Alright now, let’s see.” He examined the blip closer. After a few moments of analysis, he concluded the question mark’s font was Calibri and that the room it was in was in fact Whisper’s. But anyone could simply glean information. The true test of a captain was having the wisdom to know how to employ it.

  “Computer!” He announced. “How should I handle this situation?”

  Okay, so he didn’t have every quality of a great captain. But having the humility to know when to ask for help was important in leadership roles too.

  The entire room housing the question mark became highlighted after his question and a new button appeared on the touch screen. It stood out amongst the otherwise calm colours with its foreboding blood-red font.

  “Deoxygenate room.”

  “Oh . . .” The captain replied. “That’s, uh, that’s not the kind of solution I’m looking for right now.”

  A new button appeared under the first.

  “Okay, fine, how about venting in noxious gas then?”

  “Oh, come on, that’s not any better. Why would we even have noxious gas on board?”

  “Well, aren’t you picky. At least let me compress the walls slow enough that he’ll think he has a chance at getting out and will scamper around in desperation before finally realizing he never had any hope just as he succumbs to a painful death of broken ribs and asphyxiation.”

  Cox stared at the screen with wide eyes. Not only did a button bearing the spiel appear, but it was spoken to him in a chilling voice devoid of all expression, like a psychopathic CEO. The bean bag chair squeaked slightly as he inched it backwards.

  “I’m just gonna come up with something on my own . . . in the other room. Thank—thank you, though.”

  “Whatever, chicken shit. Looks like your wife is about to handle it, anyway.”

  Kim. He had forgotten about his cherished wildcard. The computer may have been unable to take compliments and in bad need of some kind of tech therapist, but it was not a liar. A blinking blip labelled with the Waffen-SS logo scooted its way along a neighbouring corridor, creeping dangerously close. Without her beloved Tim there to stem the fires in her blood, there would be nothing to stop her from Judge Dredd-ing all over the place. There was no time for him to reach her now, or even for him to come up with that fictional signal he mentioned. Whatever he did, he was going to have to do it from this room.

  “Aw, man,” he whined. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble . . .”

  He gave one final sigh and stole a fleeting glance at his “Universe’s Best Space Captain” mug.

  “Seal the door to Whisper Wang’s quarters,” he ordered the computer. The command was assertive and captainly, a sharp contrast to the gulp and strained addendum that followed.

  “And revoke override privileges from First Mate Cox.”

  8.

  IN FOR A PENNY,

  IN FOR A POUNDING

  OFTEN TIMES DURING MOMENTS wherein one “lays down the law,” so to speak, they can feel the impact in their chests. Perhaps some sort of sound effect will play in their heads, or dramatic music. At very least, they would frequently get some audio or visual feedback to let them know their authority has been experienced.

  But in Cox’s case, he just kind of stood there grimacing at a computer terminal. There were no gasps or “Oh no he didn’t”-s, no chairs had been thrown or tables flipped. In fact, having done his dramatic executive decision alone in a room resulted in one of the most anticlimactic experiences he had ever had. The only confirmation that anything of note had even occurred came in the form of a new button underneath all the others on the computer screen.

  “You suck for taking this away from me. I wanted to watch your wife paste that motherfucker.”

  Anticlimactic or not, his actions were at least effective. The SS blip stopped short at the threshold between hallway and room and lingered there for what was probably about ten seconds, but they were long seconds. Like microwave-countdown seconds. All the while it was a tense quiet as he stared at the screen, unsure what to do next. He thought he had bought himself some time to deliberate, but that ran out right around the time the terminal he was at began jingling away with the sounds of an incoming call. He hadn’t considered the fact he wasn’t the only one who could track people on the ship. He also couldn’t help but wonder what the offensive symbol on his blip was, since he’d forgotten to check. But checking was going to have to wait until the current storm had been weathered.

  “Hah. Looks like somebody might still be getting murdered after all.”

  “Whoever programmed you is a bad person! Just shhh.”

  He reached over and hit the little telephone icon, minimizing the ship map and bringing up the video feed.

  “Batcave,” he grinned into the receiver.

  “Tim, something is going on and I don’t like it. The door to Whisper’s room won’t open, and the terminal is ignoring my commands.”

  “Whaaat?!” The captain hammed. “That’s awful. You, uh, you don’t think that monster hacked our system and took control or something, do you?”

  “Hacked . . . ? Did you really just say—” She blinked several times and then her expression soured considerably. “Tim! What did you do?!”

  “He locked me in here.” A bored, gravelly voice intruded. A video feed of Mister Nobody broadcasting from Whisper’s room barged its way into a spot on both their terminals.

  “Not to intrude on your failing marriage or anything,” he added.

  For what is probably a number past too many times in one space day, Kim sighed. But it
wasn’t one of the usual breaths of exasperation. This one seemed to carry a tune more along the lines of reluctant acceptance. Not to be confused with defeat; perish the thought. It was more to signify a change in tactics. A simple swap of stratagem from psychotic to psychopathic.

  “I’m not gonna fight with you anymore, Tim,” she informed him in even tones. “But this stops now. I am going to park my ass right here outside this door and I am going to sit and wait. Either it will open eventually and I will end this, or I will stand by until there’s nothing left of him besides dust and the hard candy in his pocket. The choice is yours.”

  She pressed her back against the wall and slid down into a sitting position. After leaning her blaster against the wall for easy access, she crossed her legs and settled in.

  THEY STAYED THAT WAY for most of the rest of the trip back to Earth. Given the high tension of the situation, one would have thought the atmosphere of the ship would change accordingly. But in practice things swiftly returned to almost normal, which was almost more worrisome. Donald and Willy returned to the bridge, the former returning to his stations while the latter resigned himself to snoozing on the couch. The only other noticeable change was the palpable awkwardness whenever they needed to use the hallway, from which Kim would not budge. A curt nod was the only greeting she would offer any of them, even when her faithful husband brought her meals. It was not the first time Cox had seen her achieve this level of drive and focus, and by this point, he knew better than to try and snap her out. In fact, in the couple days that they spent like this, he’s not even sure if she slept.

  Banks maintained a similar level of composure, holding up remarkably well in lieu of virtually any social interaction whatsoever. The working water dispensers in every room, coupled with Whisper’s apparently private stash of snacks, seemed apt to satiate him for the bulk of the journey. Cool-headed as he was, a man of his experience had to realize the increasing direness of his situation. Perhaps that knowledge was what eventually prompted him to speak.

  “I get paid by the hour, lady,” the grumbly voice buzzed through the feed. “You leave me holed up in a room with a big comfy bed, I’ll just sleep until I can retire.”

  Kim smirked up at his depiction.

  “Sounds like someone’s getting a little lonely. Tough luck for you, though. You’re either dying in there or dying out here. I’m fine to oblige you on either one.”

  “If I am going to die in here, then I promise you I am going to piss and shit on absolutely everything before I do.”

  “Anything that comes out of you is going back inside you!”

  “Well, you better get some rubber gloves then, because I’m feeling incontinent.”

  “Whoa, whoa, hey!” Cox’s voice jumped into their conversation over the intercom from the safety of his trusty captain’s chair. “Y’know, it’d be way easier for everybody if you guys just did none of that.”

  “Open the door, Tim! Or else grandpa is going to smear his pruney poo all over Whisper’s stuff.”

  “Are you gonna take that from her? A real space captain doesn’t get ordered around by some pushy broad.”

  Cox squinted at the camera and shook his head side to side.

  “You know, I really don’t want to open the door. But I also don’t want to not open the door now because I don’t want to look like I’m listening to you.”

  “Open the door!” Kim repeated with more urgency. She had returned to her feet and her chest heaved alongside her angry breathing. “He knows he’s cornered and he’s trying to turn us against one another. Just let me in so we can be done with this!”

  “Or you could just leave me here until everybody calms down.” The old man suggested with a contrasting tranquility. “I’m sure the impressive security features of your ship will be more than enough to hold me captive. And an imprisoned old man is no danger to anybody.”

  “Can you stop taking the same position as me!? It’s making it a lot harder to defend.”

  “Tim, he’s obviously just being sarcastic! He wants you to let him bide his time until he can find a way out and come after us.”

  “Tim, your wife is a little too eager to commit murder, and you should be very troubled by that.”

  “You know, I am a little bit! . . . Not that you need to know that.”

  “Alright, that’s it. I’m shooting a hole in this damn door.” In a smooth, practised motion she hefted the blaster into a high ready position and fired off a shot into the tough titanium. A colourful bolt of light collided silently with the door and vanished just as fast as it had appeared, dissipating before the pew had even finished its ew. At first it seemed ineffective, as the door stood just as firm as it would have if it had been hit by a flashlight. However, her gusto didn’t waver. With a rabid rapidity she fired off shot after shot like a kid at a state fair dying to win a teddy bear. Except most of those kids probably weren’t planning to shoot their prizes in the face.

  But whether it was out of confidence, frustration, or “what else am I gonna do”-ness, she persisted in spite of the initial futility. Soon, after receiving enough laser coaxing, the door began to glow with a dull redness. It was beginning to appear as though Kim’s plan may actually have some clout. Even Mister Nobody was starting to get skittish.

  “Kim, stop!” The captain pleaded. “This isn’t what you want!”

  She didn’t respond, possibly because she knew she was more qualified to make that decision than he was.

  “Kim, as your captain I order—ah jeez, even I know that sounds dumb. Just please stop!”

  The door’s red spot now glowed bright like a glorious autumn sunset poking out over the mountains and calming the landscape. Or, at least, it did to people who knew what that looked like. A good way to tell whether or not someone appreciated the aforementioned metaphorical beauty was whether they reacted by stopping to marvel at it, or if they spun their blaster rifle around and reared back to pound the stuffing out of it with the gun butt.

  “Heeeeeeere’s Johnny!” The first mate screamed as she swung to break through.

  The weapon clanged against the metal and bounced off. It left a slight dent but otherwise completely ruined the moment of triumph she was trying to set up. She let loose a shrill grunt of exertion then hauled off and slammed into the door again, producing a similar result.

  “ . . . Okay, fine, I jumped the gun a little bit. Just give me a second to heat it up some more and then you’re dead!”

  She opened fire the spot yet again. Mister Nobody had left his spot on the bed and was tearing the room apart while Cox observed the carnage from his bridge terminal. This entire time he did have one reluctant option jabbering away in the back of his mind, vying for attention in much the same way the demented AI program did. And while his backup idea was slightly more appealing than a Machiavellian torture killing, it was still an undesirable notion. But he had already choked once and nearly blown his opportunity to act at all. So, objectionable as the notion was, it was going to have to do!

  “Computer!” He said out loud, presumably addressing the computer. “I, uh . . . Heretofore . . . Thereby, mandate . . . The, protocol to, um, initiate the, commencement, of, the, launching of, the, port aft lifeboat.”

  He gestured with incoherent flourishes all throughout his captainly command, thinking maybe it would add some je ne sais quoi to the moment. It wasn’t until after he stopped moving that a new text response popped up.

  “ . . . What?”

  “Launch the escape pod. Please?” Cox reiterated. “I don’t know what number it is, just whatever one Miss Wang lives in.”

  And just like that, the computer made it so. A secondary airlock door slid into place in front of the one Kim was currently going to town on, negating all her work toward passionate vengeance. She could only listen helplessly as a series of whirs and clanks scored the scene of the ship locking itself down and discharging the room like a popped pimple.

  After the initial ejection, the lifecraft drifted a
way with a gentle serenity rather unfitted to the gravity of the situation it had been caught up in. Cox watched the scene reconstruction from his terminal. Before long the little metal bubble was fading away into the vastness of space and the hijacker troubles fading away along with it. It was an ending with the perfect amount of violence. However, he had a feeling that at least a couple members of his crew weren’t going to regard this outcome as favourably. In fact, the more he thought about how he shotblocked his wife and spaced all Miss Wang’s belongings, the more he began to think he might have been better off joining Mister Nobody on the escape pod. There was at least one crew member who approved, though.

  “Trapping him all alone to slowly die of starvation. Nice.”

  “Is there a way I can ask you to uninstall yourself without totally messing up the rest of the ship’s computer?”

  “Nope.”

  IF THE JEFFERSON WERE an ocean, then the bridge would be the beach. No matter where those within it floated around to, they always washed back up in the foyer-like area sooner or later. With that knowledge in mind, Cox elected to kick back in his chair and just wait for the troops to filter in. After all, if he were the type to try and hide, then he’d also just end up back on the beach eventually, like that dead body you forgot to tie a bunch of rocks to.

  A faint metallic pitter-pat from within the walls grabbed his attention. As far as the captain had been informed, space termites were not a thing; so the most likely explanation was that Whisper was finally about to escape her air-circulating cocoon. The metal grate clanged open and fell from the wall. The pilot emerged with about as much dignity as one would have expected. Dainty hands patted around for something to grasp. Then came her head, face obscured with sweaty, matted black hair like that little girl from The Ring. She spent a worrying amount of time on the floor, panting from exhaustion, before clawing at the wall to help the rise to her feet.. Even when she was upright again, there was still a slight hunch to her back that would need worked out, but her expletive-laden soliloquy about how hungry she was seemed to convey her prime priority.