Astro-Nuts

by Logan Hunder

  Donald and Willy were the next to walk in. Unlike the first, they looked no more dishevelled than normal, save for some dried tears on the latter’s cheeks.

  “ . . . Nah, dude, the right one’s fine. It’s the left one I’m worried about. I still can’t find it. I think it mighta got knocked way up in—”

  Their chat ended abruptly when they saw Whisper emerge from the kitchen with an atrophy-induced limp. A brief wideeyed inspection of their coworker, still looking fresh out of the dryer as she scowled back at them while crunching on a mouthful of meal capsules, was enough to gauge her mood. She didn’t say a word. Even after making eye contact with Cox, she just marched to her terminal and sat down. The captain hoped she would offer something to get the ball rolling, but the only sound she offered came from blowing hair out of her face.

  “Alright look, everybody,” he addressed the group as he stood up. “I know this might seem like it coulda gone better. But I think it’s important to remember that everything could always go better.”

  “We almost died,” Donald snapped.

  “Why the hell are you mad!?” Whisper bit back. She paused to try and cough away some of the hoarseness. “You’re only one that didn’t even get hurt!”

  “That’s not true at all! I got punched in the face.”

  “And don’t you guys feel pride in knowing you defended your ship?!” Cox polled the room. “Your home? Your friends? Your family, even.”

  “No,” they all responded.

  “I feel like you guys answered that a little too quickly to really think about it.”

  “Now that you mention it, Whisper,” Donald observed. “I’m pretty sure he’s the only one who didn’t get hurt.”

  “Whoa now, guys, we’re getting a little off-track here. We’re supposed to be focusing on the positives.” The captain tried to wrangle everyone back in line. “And you just reminded me of the three qualities every successful adventure has: nobody gets hurt, everybody learns something, and a positive difference is made in the end!”

  He stopped to ponder the statement for a moment.

  “ . . . And as the great philosopher Meat Loaf always used to say: ‘two outta three ain’t bad!’”

  The pilot, who sat with her head slumped backwards almost ninety degrees and eyes closed, coughed again, but this one sounded more like a response.

  “Did you just say ‘meatloaf?!’” She said afterward, apparently needing to engage more than needing to sleep.

  “Yeah! Do you like him!?”

  “Ew, no, meatloaf is gross.”

  “But you have heard of him!”

  “No. Because he doesn’t exist, because you made him up, because you couldn’t even come up with a made-up name this time to legitimize your dumb quotes, so instead you just listed a random food item, because you probably thought I wasn’t even listening.”

  She opened her eyes and raised her head.

  “And I wasn’t,” she added before laying back again. “’Cause I was busy. Thinking. About dogs. ’Cause people suck.”

  “Hey, not all people suck! There’s lots that don’t. Like Meat Loaf. Who was a person.”

  “’Til Hannibal ate him?” Donald asked.

  “Hey, look at you two, collaborating in attempt to belittle me! That’s the type of teamwork that makes this team work. Keep it going—what else ya got?!”

  His cheesy exuberance never really was a hit with the kids even at the best of times. Yet it somehow managed to make the room even more subdued with this iteration. Perhaps it was the contrast between him and everyone else, or perhaps it was just inappropriate to even try right now. However, even devoid of enthusiasm, they at least continued to man their posts and keep things underway. Whisper seemed to find some contentment in her work. As she tapped at her keys and tapped at the side of her face, it even became difficult to tell she was harbouring a seething teenaged hatred for everyone in her immediate vicinity.

  It was a short while later that they were joined by the final member of the usual fellowship. Even in spite of the already-present silence, a hush still managed to fall over the room as she stepped across the threshold. Kim blinked back at the faces that all stared at her.

  “Hello.”

  “Heyyyyyy . . Her husband greeted back in a loud whisper that quickly trailed away. He paused for a moment. “Uh, guys, you might want to maybe go back to your rooo—errrr—somewhere else on the ship that’s even more fun than lame old bedrooms.”

  Whisper “hmph”-ed at the statement, but rolled out of her chair nonetheless. She likely relished an excuse to get away. Donald, however, didn’t move.

  “Are you about to tell us not to leave?” He asked Kim. “’Cause that seems like the type of thing you guys would argue about at this point and I don’t want to go back and forth between standing and sitting while you figure it out.”

  “C’mon, Donny, don’t antagonize her.”

  “I actually would prefer they stayed, if that’s alright.” Kim dissented in placid tones. Her demeanour, while more subdued, wasn’t that of someone who had come hat in hand. But she hadn’t come gun in hand, either, so whatever metaphorical item she was metaphorically clutching here was probably preferable.

  “Called it,” Donald bragged, slumping further into his seat with a smug smile as he checked to see who was looking at him. “Now she’s probably going to make us pick sides.” He turned back to Kim. “Don’t even bother asking me, I’ll take you over him any day.”

  “Shut up, Donald,” the first mate grumbled without looking at him. She shook her head. “Well, I’m off to a flying start. Okay, before I say anything I want to clarify that none of this detracts from any of the stuff I said to you earlier, Tim. But that being said, I just want to acknowledge that I lost my head back there and I’m sorry. I started doing exactly what I was getting mad at you for.”

  Everyone continued to look at her. With no crickets around to chirp, they instead listened to the scraping noise of Willy scratching his beard.

  “And that’s the end of my speech,” she added. “No applause necessary.”

  Cox, who had been on the cusp of starting a slow clap until the last bit, quickly brushed his hands against his shirt and pants before placing them on his hips.

  “Yeah!” He cheered, nodding around the room. “Well, alright! That’s what I’m talking about! Learning lessons and growing as space people. We’re all going to feel some feelings sometimes like we have today, but the important part is being able to express them in a healthy way like this.”

  Unlike his wife, the intrepid Captain Cox felt no awkwardness or embarrassment whatsoever when his crew slowly rotated their heads in unison to peer upon him with bewildered eyes.

  “Anybody else have any feelings they wanted to share? Maybe some reflections or musings orrrrrr concepts for consideration? You can take a moment to step out if you want some time to come up with a speech like Kim here.”

  “What? I wasn’t coming up with a speech, I was disarming all the traps I set.”

  “Well, yeah, alright then! That too! If anybody has any deadly traps to disarm or speeches to make, you’re welcome to take a couple minutes.”

  By this time Whisper had finally made it to the door. Then subsequently through the door, taking no pauses for farewells or backward glances. Cox watched her go, grinning all the while. After she disappeared, he turned back to the group, still smiling, albeit weakly.

  “I feel like she’s not coming back.”

  “Dude, we almost just got hijacked,” Willy observed, as if just realizing it. “Don’t you guys think we should, I dunno, call somebody or something?”

  “NO!” Tim, Kim, and Donald all blurted out in unison, startling not only Willy but also each other.

  “Okay . . .” The burly security guard murmured in defeat.

  After a couple moments of staring at his two superiors, Donald shook his head, apparently deciding against whatever he was considering asking. Maybe he didn’t want to know, or maybe l
ecturing the sheeple was more important.

  “The best thing we can do is just forget any of this happened,” he informed Willy in a tone that would not welcome dissention. “Whoever that guy is, he’s definitely on lists! If we tell anybody that we ran into him, then we’re gonna end up on those lists, too, as known associates. Next thing you know, we’re gonna be getting pulled over every week by guys wearing spacesuit suits and sunglasses underneath their helmets. And yeah they’ll probably go through the motions and check our logbooks and stuff, but that’s how it starts! Soon as we commit one minor infraction then BAM! We’re gonna be people of suspicion held indefinitely and being tortured for information we don’t have and probably doesn’t exist. But they’ll do it anyway, ‘cause they like doing it!”

  He froze in position. He stood with his pointing finger trembling from the passion in his words and his face fixed in a blank expression. Either he was undergoing a monumental brain fart or he felt a wave of self-consciousness from the way everyone now stared at him. He cleared his throat with a loud “ahem” that vibrated his cheeks.

  “Wait, what traps were you disarming?” He shifted the focus onto Kim. “I was right next to the video feed; you didn’t move the entire time you were waiting outside Whisper’s room.”

  She shrugged, eyebrows raised in an innocent pout.

  “I set them earlier,” she explained. “Before all this stuff happened.”

  Just like when she came in, all eyes returned to her in silent scrutiny. Nobody in the room seemed to have the social wherewithal to simply ask for elaboration. Thankfully, staring at someone until they became uncomfortable enough to keep talking had been fairly effective thus far.

  “Look, I may or may not have been sorta expecting Willy to try and kill us at some point,” Kim dragged the words out of herself. “And I know what you’re thinking! But I’m not paranoid. I’m just . . .”

  “You’re a little overly suspicious.” Cox offered.

  “I’m a little overly suspicious! But that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

  Sensing a vulnerability to be alleviated, her husband walked over and wrapped an arm around her.

  “You’re not wrong, honey, but I think you might be defending yourself against claims nobody made yet.”

  “I need a nap,” she sighed as she broke away and slumped into her chair. “Or a drink. Also, Willy, I haven’t known you for long, and still have no confirmation you’re not evil, but I’m sorry anyway.”

  “Thanks!”

  “So does this mean we can just stay in transit for a while?” Donald asked as he settled back into his station. “Maybe stay away from things that might kill us or get us thrown in jail?”

  It was in that moment that Cox knew the status quo had managed to return. His communications officer had returned to communicating his usual grievances, his pilot had shoved the ship into drive before she left and was off being a recluse somewhere, and his wife was slightly agitated with him but still receptive when he sat down and put an arm around her. She even let herself rest her head against his shoulder. But she wasn’t allowing a smile just yet; he still had to earn that.

  As for Willy, he hadn’t been a part of the crew long enough to have a designated “thing,” so for now, whatever he was doing was to be considered normal. At the moment that happened to be staring around the room as if tracking the movements of a non-existent fly.

  “Or just say nothing and do whatever you want, like always,” Donald added.

  The captain rose from his seat and strode over to a spot behind the seated malcontent. Manicured hands rested upon poorly postured shoulders.

  “Donny, Donny . . .” He said in his soothing voice, fighting hard against Donald’s stalwart resistance to being soothed. “You gotta learn to just appreciate the moments sometimes, buddy—”

  “I’ve never bought into your touchy-feely crap before. Why do you think it’d be any different right now?”

  “Fair enough!”

  Cox exhaled into Donny’s curly hair. He massaged at the lad’s tense tissue.

  “I guess what I’m really trying to say is . . . The only thing we have to worry about killing us is that homicidal robot living in your computer. Oooh, yeah, you didn’t think I knew about him, did ya?!”

  Donald had no visible reaction.

  “Wow, you finally found Bundy,” he responded, deadpan as ever. “I started coding him to run my station a few years ago on my first day here. But good thing you found him when you did; I bet he was finally about to strike.”

  “Wait, you programmed that thing?!”

  “Sure did.”

  “Wh—why did you make it so murdery?!”

  “‘Cause it’s hilarious?”

  “Kim, how many teenagers did you hire?!”

  “I’m thirty-five.” Donald answered.

  “Y’know what!” The captain declared, putting his hands up. “This ain’t bringin’ me down!”

  He strode past the bean bag chair as he talked. With chest high and shoulders back, he announced his indifference.

  “No, sir! Life is too good. We already beat one coldblooded murderer, what chance does a no-blooded wannabe murderer have?”

  “Babe, I get what you’re trying to say but you literally could not say it in a way that tempts fate more.”

  “Oh honey, you’re being crazy! . . . That was rude to say; I’m sorry. Gaslighting is bad. I’m just trying to say there’s absolutely nothing to worry about! That old snafu has been completely resolved and no repercussions could possibly arise from—” He stopped, suddenly hearing the words coming out of his mouth. “Wow, you’re right. I really should tone this down.”

  Without another word, he trotted on back to his seat and let Kim lean across the arm rests to place her head against his shoulder once more. The slightest hints of a smile etched themselves onto the corners of her lips.

  9.

  THE SPIES WHO

  SHOVED ME

  IT WAS HARD TO say how long they sat in silence after that. The air of the room was neither subdued nor stressful, though there was something of a pause. A hush. A brief period of shaky hesitancy that no one dared shatter, lest they be unready for the universe taking it upon itself to punish the captain’s hubris. If the universe decided to at all, that is. It was a pretty big thing, after all, and perhaps it was arrogant to assume it would take time out of its day to meddle in the matters of a fleck of meat. Not to mention this form of thinking required the assumptions that the universe itself was not only somehow sentient, but also shared humanity’s affection for poetic justice.

  But, like most other superstitions, you’re not supposed to think about it very hard; you’re supposed to just accept it and fear it. You’re also supposed to engage in mental gymnastics to construe all happenings as evidence supporting your suspicions.

  It was for this reason that everyone freaked the hell out when a ringing noise began chiming from Donald’s terminal.

  “Oh Jesus, I’ve angered it!!” The captain yelped. “Somebody help me close all the vents!”

  “I am NOT answering that!!” Donald declared around the same time. “I am not giving them a voice print to put on file!”

  “Aw man!” Willy followed with a distressed shout of his own. “Last time people yelled about stuff, I got kicked in the nards!”

  The terminal jingled again. The three of them huddled around it, cowering like it was telling them a scary campfire story. The caller ID said it was British Secret Organization #37, but that could be anybody! Whoever it was, they didn’t give up after three rings, so they must have really wanted to talk.

  “It’s not stopping,” the captain informed anyone who was hard of hearing (or skipping the narration). “Why isn’t it stopping?!”

  “What do you think they are, girl scouts?!” Donald snapped back. “This is bad. Whoever this is, they know where we are. Once they know who we are, we’re doomed! We’re toast, man! It’s game over!”

  “What should we do, Kim?”
Cox called to his wife.

  The three men whirled around to find the first mate had silently left the room without any of them noticing.

  “Well, that’s probably something else I’m gonna have to worry about now,” he mused. “But for now, this!”

  “Maybe we should just answer it.” Willy suggested. He offered a sheepish shrug when they both gaped at him. “I mean, if they’re not gonna stop, we’re gonna have to see ’em eventually, right?”

  “Wrong!” Donald yelled. “If we don’t talk to them, then we can’t invite them in! If we don’t invite them in, then they can’t come in!”

  “Donny, buddy, I think you’re thinking of vampires. Look, why don’t we just hit the ignore button? I mean, that’s what it’s there for, right?”

  “Oh god, please don’t touch my terminal!”

  “I’m just gonna hang up, don’t worry!”

  But Donald didn’t believe him. Even Willy suspected he would muck it up. In fact, somewhere within the recesses of Cox’s mind, obscured by all the hearts and smiles and positive affirmations and memories of hairstyles that didn’t work out, there were a bunch of little versions of himself. They crowded around one particular tiny Tim and dragged him off into a small, dimly lit room, where he was strapped to a wheelchair with a speculum holding his eyes open as he was subjected to a swath of nausea-causing drugs and a several-hour-long supercut of Eeyore quotes. That metaphorical miniature man was a bit preoccupied at the moment, but if pressed he too would have said Cox was likely to bungle up such a simple task.

  Anyway, they were all right about him, because he hit the answer call button by mistake.

  Donald dove under the desk with a heretofore-unseen agility, leaving Cox to deal with their gentlemen callers. He hopped into the crunchy bean bag chair and stared up with eyes like fine china as the visage of the palest man he had ever seen popped up on the screen. That man also stared at the camera for a few moments, taking a moment to smooth his brown hair, then run a finger across both eyebrows, followed by his mouth brow.