Astro-Nuts

by Logan Hunder

  The words, while served up quickly, were savoured in silence. With the amount of times the captain opened and closed his mouth in return, he may well have actually been trying to chew on them. After what appeared to be sufficient mastication, he raised his brow and settled on the classic yielding nod and shrug combo.

  “Well played.”

  “Thanks. I had a bit of inspiration.”

  “What were we talking about before this?”

  “Something about disposing of the weapon of mass destruction you found in our wine shelf. Do we even know for sure that’s what it is?”

  “I don’t know why they’d lie . . . Well, I guess I kinda do, but I don’t think that’s the one they’d tell me. You can open it up and test if you want.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “Alrighty.”

  They sat in a comfortable quietude that could only have resulted from the years of boring lulls every couple had to go through in order to wring out the awkwardness. The ability to find contentment in each other’s company was an essential part of surviving long space journeys together, and in this particular circumstance, refraining from speaking was made doubly easy by the apathy towards egging the conversation along. Both knew that one of them was going to have to come up with a suggestion. Neither wished to assume that responsibility. The day had been long and their bed was so tempting and the other person was totally smartish; so surely they could come up with something.

  As the still-seated one, Tim flopped down on it first. In an effect similar to taking the first donut from the box, it removed any reluctance Kim may have been having and spurred her to dive in shortly afterward. The lovely plush mattress enveloped the two of them like a huge, steaming plate of mashed potatoes. Fervid moans escaped from both as they did their best impressions of dogs jumping into a mud pit. Eventually, their batteries slowly died and their movements reflected this diminished energy. They both lay face down, limbs splayed as if in chalk outlines.

  KIM WOKE FIRST, STRETCHING her arms and humming, face down, into the covers. Tim grunted back. Without looking, she reached over with her foot and nudged what she thought was his shoulder, prompting him to raise his head and ask why she just kicked him in the face. Such protestations were cancelled by the sight of an open door and the trio of kids staring inside, seemingly too uncomfortable to say what they came to say.

  “Oh hey, guys!” He chirped, causing Kim to sit bolt upright. “What’s up?”

  They looked at each other, eyes lingering until Donald was the first to look back.

  “Did you guys seriously go to bed without even telling us where to go?”

  Cox slithered from the bed to his hands and knees in the least dignified way possible. A few shimmies back and forth cracked his back and injected a little more liveliness into him. Not enough to forego sleep, mind you, but, ideally, enough to survive this conversation.

  “No, no, Donny, buddy. We may have been in bed, but we weren’t sleeping. Don’t worry.”

  “Ew.” he replied, with a wrinkled nose.

  “Where is it you want us to go?” Whisper asked from behind the hand that shielded her eyes. “’Cause we’re kinda in the middle of flying to nowhere right now.”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Kim’s voice echoed, its owner appearing to have made her way to the bathroom. “Don’t suppose any of you guys know where to go to destroy alien goo?”

  “We’re destroying it now!?” Donald blurted. “Haven’t we pissed enough people off already?”

  The first mate’s head poked out from the doorway.

  “Know what also really pisses people off, Donald? Dying.” Her disappearance was as quick as her emergence, leaving the man posed in an uncomfortable stance as he tried to process her words. It was lucky she didn’t feel the need to stick around for a response, since he didn’t appear to have one.

  “Uh . . .” He scratched at his head. “Was that a threat, or was she making some kind of point . . . ?”

  “No, no, buddy,” the captain, who had retrieved the bottle and was absentmindedly jingling it like the bell of a Salvation Army Santa, said as he snapped back into the conversation. “Kim and I are just pretty sure if the agents get their hands on this, then their government might use it to terrorize people.”

  “Of course they’re going to use it to terrorize people! That’s all they ever do! What did you think they were going to do with it? Donate it to a museum? What are they, Indiana Jones?“

  “I already made that joke,” Kim called.

  “Fine! Uh . . . Then what did you think they were going to do with it? Use it for . . . uh, waste disposal? What are they, garbage . . . men?”

  “Who’s Indiana Jones . . . ?” Whisper murmured.

  “Donny, if you knew they were going to use it to hurt people, then why are you okay with giving it back to them?!” Cox asked.

  “Because they’re going to hurt us if we don’t!”

  A hush fell over the group. The notion, while entirely predictable and not incorrect, conjured a light of sociopathy over the crew member when it was spoken aloud. Donald seemed to realize the weight of his words the moment they left his lips, but he stood with an uncharacteristic straightness and met every wavering gaze cast upon him. He swallowed hard. Debating with people was so much harder without a screen to hide behind.

  “Great, now you all think I’m a monster,” he continued, dropping his hands. “Like it’s not completely normal to value your own life above the lives of random people you don’t know. Governments have always done this stuff, and they’re gonna keep doing it, whether or not they get this thing. The only difference is whether or not they’re going to pay attention to us, too.”

  As captain, Cox knew it fell on him to take up the mantle of making a case for morality. There was always the option to simply pull rank and order him to obey or get dropped off at the nearest space diner. However, he was literally up against a guy defending the notion of helping a government in the commission of war crimes. The moral high ground he had here was so vast that pretty much any response would win, even if delivered while stomping on a baby otter.

  “In my opinion, the British are evil!”

  “ . . . What?! That’s not even what we’re fighting about!”

  “Oh. Well, okay. So we agree they’re evil then?”

  “It doesn’t matter if they’re evil! It’s not our job to deal with them.”

  “We’re not doing it because I think it’s our job! Donny, buddy, we’re doing it because we’re in a position where we can. If they had the space jam already, then I wouldn’t be suggesting breaking into their ship and risking our lives to steal it.”

  “That definitely sounds like something you’d do.”

  “Pshhh, no way! If that were the case, then I would just report them to the proper authorities.”

  “Then why don’t we do that now!?”

  “Because I don’t know who the proper authorities are.”

  “Then how would you—”

  “The point is, this isn’t as simple as picking our lives over the lives of others. Nobody else knows about this but us! If we turn our backs on millions of innocent people who have no fighting chance just because we aren’t brave enough to take advantage of the one we got then, well, we may as well be villains ourselves. Because we at least have a chance. And if we try, then even if we fail, we can spend our remaining days, however many or few there may be, knowing that we took a stand against a force way bigger than ourselves because it was the right thing to do! And that knowledge can’t be taken away from us with any amount of beatings or sleep deprivation or waterboarding or lobotomizing.”

  He finished his speech with legs wide and arms akimbo, picking a spot on the ceiling to triumphantly stare at. It was a slight buzzkill to realize the uplifting trumpet music he thought he was hearing had only taken place in his head, but the weight of the words persisted nonetheless. After all the many adventures aboard the Jefferson, he finally got the opport
unity to give a passionate address to rally the troops. Looked like the day wasn’t a total loss after all.

  “So who’s with me?!” He polled the group with an outstretched hand.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Willy offered a hand, eager to be a team player. He slapped his hand on top of the Captain’s and flashed a delightful, doughy smile. It was unclear if he fully grasped what he had signed up for, but his support was welcome all the same.

  Perhaps it was because she had fallen into the precarious position of swing vote and didn’t wish to be left for last, or maybe the rousing pep talk had indeed cracked her cockles, but a few moments later, Whisper offered a slow-moving hand that was gently placed upon the digital entanglement. From there, all attention fell on Donald. Mouth fallen open in surprise, he assessed each face one by one.

  “No,” he snarled with disgust at the notion his mind might have changed. “I’m not buying it, ’cause you’re not that great at speeches, and they don’t work on me anyway. There’s a ‘chance’ I could win the lottery too. Or play in the NBA. Or even that one of my stupid emails is from an actual Nigerian prince. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen, and definitely doesn’t mean I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

  “But we’re the good guys! The good guys are supposed to stand up to the bad guys. How would you feel if we came back and found—”

  “Can I cut in?” Kim emerged from the bathroom, having done some sort of cosmetic touch-up that was completely unnoticeable to any of the males. “Nothing you’re saying is wrong, Tim, but you’re arguing like you’re trying to convince a group. For Donald, you need to appeal to something more basic. Besides basic human decency, that is. Watch.”

  She marched towards him with a slight swagger; just enough to pepper her assertiveness with confidence. Donald leaned away unconsciously. His eyes did not shy away from her, but the slight downturn of his mouth hinted at a concealed fear of getting slugged. Yet no physical harm did come. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back and regarded him with a cheeky smirk, like someone who had an ace cheat code on their poker app.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Donald, I agreed with you at first. But what do you think will happen if we just hand it back to them? That they’ll give us a fond ‘cheerio’ and forget all about it? We’re on their list now. If we hand this thing over, then we’re just a loose end privy to a government secret that they may not want anyone to know about. A loose end that regularly goes on voyages where we’re all alone and not in contact with anybody. You think a ship with agents on it showing up is bad? You obviously don’t know what it’s like to see a space drone headed your way.”

  Beads of perspiration coalesced on Donald’s forehead. The urge to compare his opponent to Hitler was strong. All it took was a moment’s mulling to find every hole in such a response. The worst part of all was the bitter taste he had towards the very position he had taken. He had stated on many occasions his preference to die before helping out “the man,” and it was only a matter of time until someone remembered one of these times and used it to bolster their argument. Between that and Kim’s evisceration, it was time to shift the spotlight and hope nobody noticed him abandoning his case.

  “How will destroying it fix any of that?” He barked, quickly wiping his forehead.

  “Fix any of that?!” Repeated a caught-off-guard Kim. “We don’t even know how to destroy it yet. I was just saying that, either way, we’re in the precarious position you described. So may as well be dicks to them on the way out.”

  “Honey, seriously, there are other words . . .”

  “Insubordinate troublemaking rebels. Whatever. So how do we get rid of this stuff?”

  “Dude!” Willy reminded everyone of his presence. “Let’s shoot it into the sun!”

  Kim blinked at him, as if seeing him for the very first time.

  “That’s . . . that’s actually not the worst suggestion.”

  “Except we don’t have anything to shoot it out of,” said Cox. “And it would take a way too long to get there; somebody could snag it. We need to take it somewhere that it can be destroyed. I think that Percy guy said something about it being susceptible to acids; does anybody know where we can get our hands on a bunch of acid?”

  The ship’s communicator pursed his lips.

  “Well, I remember when I was at SIT they had a pretty well-known department of chemistry.”

  “Donald, I know you didn’t go to SIT. You can stop lying about it.”

  “What the hell!? I absolutely did! How would you even know?”

  “Whoa there, guys! It doesn’t matter if he went or not; I bet a university is somewhere we could find lots of acid!”

  “Well then, why don’t we go to yours, Tim? Least I know for sure that you’re an alum.”

  “Mine?! My school doesn’t have anything. They just uploaded knowledge directly into your brain each day.”

  Rolling of eyes and grumbles of contempt echoed from around him. Perhaps worse was how little surprise anyone seemed to have. To be regarded as spoiled, while unbecoming, was a shruggable stigma, as comfort could be found in the knowledge it was not one’s own fault. But lazy? That was an affliction known to affect anyone, regardless of walk of life. There was no explanation for laziness that didn’t involve a failure from within.

  “Just because it was easy doesn’t mean I couldn’t have done it if it was hard!” He protested the thoughts he assumed them to be having.

  “How is it possible that you are so stupid, then!?” Whisper demanded. Immediately afterward, she raised her hands to backpedal. “I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t even . . . You could literally get any info just put into your brain and you still—UGH!”

  She stormed off down the hall opposite from the bridge, forcing Cox to call his rebuttal after her.

  “Well, I mean . . . it’s been a while! It fades over time. I haven’t gone back for any booster knowledge shots in a while.”

  Donald threw his arms up then let them fall back to his sides with a mighty slap.

  “It’s easy knowledge! You don’t even have to work for it. Of course you wouldn’t go back. Why would you want that, right?!”

  “Alright, don’t you get carried away, too.” Kim snapped. “He can’t go back because his parents cut him off when he married me. That’s all I’m saying about that, so drop it.”

  Over the course of the bickering, the group had been migrating about their mobile home. The heated conversation had taken a sturdy grasp on all attention during the drifting past Donald’s bedroom, the former location of Whisper’s bedroom, the hallway full of strewn-about Christmas decorations that used to be in the closet where Willy had made his home, as well as the rarely used passage leading down to engineering, where Whatshername may or may not still be at this point. As was always the case, they washed up on the bridge right in time with Kim’s most recent command.

  To see his beloved work station was all the encouragement Cox needed to redouble his satisfaction with life. It may have consisted of nothing but a chair and . . . well, nothing but a chair, but a former classmate also got the same degree, and he went on to launch an unsuccessful kickstarter trying to fund a pimping career. So, by comparison, being the captain of a ship, regardless of purpose or prestige, was pretty alright! No amount of that silly e-learning would have made him any better at captain-ing anyway. That was all him; for better or for worse.

  Yet as he took his seat, mulling the magnitude of his situation, something from his school days did indeed bubble up from the recesses of his mind. It was not a formula, nor was it a theory, a study, or a recipe for pot brownies. In fact, it was something he would continue to have, even if his mind had sloughed away every last tidbit of information shoved inside it, like a game of Perfection. It was the most important thing that anyone could take away from college, and it was the one thing he had never needed any guidance in obtaining: a friend.

  “Hey, Donny, do we still have that email from Pia to come see her lab?”

&
nbsp; 16.

  DUDE, WHERE’S MY

  SPACESHIP?

  SAN FRANCISCO: A LAND where the seismograph activity was pretty significant, but gaydar readings made those squiggly lines on the seismograph look puny in comparison. For this reason, it was considered both the holy land and the unholy land, depending on who you asked. Nevertheless, few would disagree it was a fun enigma of a city. It somehow managed to maintain a cost of living high enough to turn movie stars into compulsive couponers whilst simultaneously having a population consisting mostly of unemployed hippies. The only way to tell the difference between the rich ones and the poor ones was to watch and see if they took their LSD inside a luxury apartment or if they dropped a dose after relieving themselves into that same apartment’s flower bed.

  Some would erroneously perceive the preceding facts to be shortcomings. However, the place clearly drew a sort of strength from them, since it had survived the dissolution of the United States. Not only did it survive, but it did so without so much as interrupting the pride parade that had been doing laps around the megalopolis nonstop for as long as anybody could remember. What exactly the parade took pride in had long been lost to history. However, few cared, as all were welcome in the cacophonic glitter blizzard that was as much a beloved part of The City as the solid-gold statue of Cher, which had been erected on Market Street after an earthquake.

  This parade’s aggressively inclusive outlook was a direct reflection of San Francisco itself. In a city where every single person was weird, nobody could be considered weird, and therefore, any and all seeking acceptance felt obliged to show up on the streets paved with gold and the shattered glass of dropped bongs. It was that sentiment that attracted freshly minted thirty-year-old Pia Dickenson. Seventeen divorces in such a milestone year had left the blonde-haired and rosy-cheeked tricenarian with ample emotional baggage, along with a discontent toward her use of her youthful years spelled out in scarlet letters. Thus, her relocation to the mecca of acceptance seemed only natural. Plus, with not a straight man in sight, there was nothing to distract her from maintaining her lab.