Astro-Nuts Read online

  “Have I ever told you I love how extra sultry your voice gets when you’re interrogating me about something?”

  “Have I ever told you that compliments don’t get you out of trouble?”

  He placed his palm against his chin as if resting his head in thought, despite being suspended upside down with his feet brushing against the ceiling.

  “Okay . . . but I didn’t hire—”

  “You know what I mean! You knew he was coming. All I’m asking is for you not to spring this stuff on me. This is your ship; I can acknowledge that. But we are a team. And as a team, we lead the rest of the team. I like to know who is on my team. I’m saying team a lot. Look, now you’ve brought some guy on our ship that I didn’t get to interview like I did with Whisper and Donald and Whatshername down in engineering. . . . Can you stop doing pullups for a second?”

  “Sorry. I thought maybe I could multitask.”

  Kim tried to put her hands on her hips, but quickly grabbed the wall again to right herself.

  “Look, I know you don’t take these things as seriously as I do. And maybe I’m just crazy. But you agreed to put up with it!”

  “Whoa, whoa, come on.” Cox protested. He abandoned the rafter he clung to and floated down to her level.

  “You’re not crazy! You’re just cynical and paranoid. I love that about you! I didn’t marry you just because of your rockin’ body and the fact you look like Marisa Tomei.”

  “Who?”

  “Ahhh, she’s an old actress. Won sexiest woman alive like eighteen times. Doesn’t matter. Look, the point is you’re right! I should have run this by you before bringing him on the ship, and for that I am sorry. Let’s just try and stick this out for the trip home, and if you don’t like him when we get back, then I’ll petition for a replacement.”

  Kim raised an eyebrow.

  “And what if he’s a troublemaker on the way home?”

  Cox dismissed the notion with a mighty “pshhaw” as he returned the room to normal gravity and punched the door code.

  “Okay, now you’re being crazy! He’s one guy and his name is Willy; how bad could he be?”

  The door opened to reveal Whisper and Donald hiding behind support pillars as the large, shabby security agent attempted to shoot cups off a counter while blindfolded.

  “Oh, great. He has a gun.” Kim uttered with syrupy sarcasm.

  They both hopped behind their respective sides of the doorway.

  “Look, it’s not the end of the world,” Cox insisted as stray laser blasts struck the other side of the wall he leaned against. “Who knows? Maybe if we get into trouble we’ll be glad he has it! Don’t worry, I’ll sit him down and have a talk about proper gun etiquette.”

  Kim rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the faint traces of amusement manifesting at the corners of her mouth. “Good luck with that. I need to go take care of some things.”

  She got down on her hands and knees and proceeded to crawl down an adjoining corridor until she was out of the potential line of fire. As she disappeared, Cox took a deep breath and smoothed the front of his space-onesie before stepping back into the warzone.

  “Captain on the bridge!” He barked to his subordinates.

  He wished he could say everyone snapped to attention— maybe snapped a salute, with faces eager at the prospect of carrying out orders. Instead, everyone just looked at him. Willy stopped firing his gun to lift his blindfold, though, so there was that.

  “Sorry, boss.” The security guard muttered as he lowered his weapon.

  Cox waved off the apology.

  “I like the enthusiasm, buddy! Maybe save it for some bad guys, though. Stay sharp!” He turned to the rest of his crew.

  “Everyone else, back to your posts. I don’t know what rhodium is, but right now it may as well be gold. I hope it’s strapped in tight. Let’s burn up some quarter miles.”

  “Oh my GOD.” Whisper’s aggravated voice rang out from somewhere nearby. “Rhodium is worth, like, ten times as much as gold.”

  “Miss Wang, can your highly valuable insight wait until after we have a triumphant take-off? I want us all to have a moment!”

  She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her terminal. Having moments seemed about as important to her as emoting. Her pale, dainty fingers drummed up and down the screen, creating beeps and boops and whoops and whirs, all of which were superfluous sound effects that Cox had installed to make the job “sound more science-y.”

  Meanwhile, outside, magnetic docking mechanisms began to release leaving the large, shaft-shaped ship adrift like a temporarily neglected volleyball. Tiny mounted rockets rotated it away from the space rock upon which it sat with remarkable grace for such a colossal craft. In spite of his job description, Cox was no stickler for speed, and thus had had the cosmoboat built to match. It might be slow, but it was big enough to carry impressive loads, hard enough to handle the harshness of space, and it would always get its riders where they wanted to go. At the end of the day, those were really the most important qualities to Cox.

  IN TRANSIT, THINGS ON board calmed down. Willy’s gun was safely stowed until such time that his behaviour was deemed sufficiently “de-monkeyfied.” Now, with his only toy confiscated and the wind out of his sails, the security officer meandered about the new digs whilst settling into the dull life aboard a freighter. No matter what one’s position, there wasn’t much to do while—figuratively—on the road. Donald had returned to his digital distractions, and even Whisper had kicked back in her pilot’s chair with a pair of telegoggles. Cox himself had settled in next to the plastic plants. In his hands, he rubbed together two peculiar knickknacks that nobody living in this century was likely to recognize.

  Willy gave one last look around, as if in search of any alternative, before he finally took a spot of his own by the greenery. Cox looked up with a warm smile as the big fella settled in beside him.

  “This ship is weird.” Willy mused in his husky voice. “Not in a bad way or nothing. Just that most are all metal and empty and stuff. Now I’m on here and you got like, painted walls and a couch and a throw rug and . . . man, are these wood floors?!”

  Cox chuckled. “Ah, I wish I coulda found someone willing to make floors out of wood.” He sighed and continued. “Laminate was all I could find. Nice to know it still ties the room together, though!”

  “It’s nice! It’s old-school cool. But what do you guys do in here all day?!”

  The captain shrugged.

  “Oh, we get by. We all have our hobbies to stave off cabin fever. And every now and then I convince the gang into a board-game night. There’s also a holodeck down by the cargo hold, but make sure you knock real loud before going inside.” Willy sat there nodding continuously, like a freestyle rapper having trouble coming up with a line.

  “Everything’s so automated and reliable now.” Cox continued. “There’s no more daily chores to keep us on our toes and keep the ship from falling apart. No whales or giant squids to contend with. No mysterious uncharted islands to happen upon. Everybody just sits around like lumps on logs. There’s no adventure anymore. Nobody even wants excitement.”

  He looked down at the toys in his hands.

  “Even scrimshawing ain’t what it used to be. The pioneers used to kill for some downtime to do this! Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll teach you how.”

  “Ahhh . . .” His security officer hemmed, or maybe hawed. “Maybe later. Where’s your kitchen at? I think I’ma go zap up myself a soup packet or something.”

  “Oh, we don’t have a zapper.”

  “No? Oh, you got them little insta-heat capsules?”

  “We have a microwave.” Donald snarled from across the room, voice reeking of disdain.

  Willy blinked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Hey, don’t knock the microwave!” Cox admonished. “You don’t know what this untested new stuff is doing to our food. Our ancestors survived for hundreds of years on microwaves, and they nev
er had any problems.”

  He turned to his confused new recruit, who sat flustered and frozen, not sure whom to trust.

  “Don’t worry about him; just put your packet in and set a cook time. It takes a little bit longer than an InstaZap™, but it’ll be just as good!”

  “Better pull up a chair and find a movie too.” Donald called to Willy as he walked away.

  The captain watched him go, then shut the door behind him. Since his naturally cheerful face was unable to form a frown, he folded his arms to attempt assertiveness after turning around to admonish his communications officer.

  “Always so negative!” He said along with a waggle of his finger. “Why, Donny?! Who hurt you?”

  “Why do you always think some kind of tragedy must have happened every time I don’t like your prehistoric crap?”

  “First of all, all my artefacts have great historical significance! Second of all . . . uh, you’re a smart guy; you know what I mean!”

  Donald’s eyes returned to his screen. “Nope.”

  Seeing the man’s attention starting to lapse, the captain reacted with a dignity befitted to an authority figure of his calibre: by chucking his knickknacks in opposing directions and scampering across the floor to the aforementioned terminal.

  “See? There it is again. Always such a downer. It’s like a malodorous ghost that possesses you for the purpose of ruining fun!”

  “Where do you come up with all these projections?!”

  “You’re just so negative! Maybe you should be the captain. We could call you Captain Negative!”

  “Hey, boss?” Willy called from the doorway to the galley. “I think your microwave thing is broken. I zapped the packet for ten whole seconds and it didn’t even unfreeze.”

  “Just keep doing it until it’s hot. Trust me!” Cox barked, not taking his eyes off Donald.

  “Can I be the captain?” Donald asked.

  “You may not. I bought this ship; it’s mine. But I like that ambition! I want to see more of that.”

  He got to his feet and ran his fingers through his wavy hair as he strolled back to the ship’s bow. The bridge was far and away his favourite spot on his giant shaving-cream can of a vehicle. It was the only place where one could sit and stare out into the infinite and wonder what wonderment lay beyond the scope of human achievement. There was many a time during long deliveries that he had to resist the urge to abandon his duties, kick Whisper off the controls, and go space-spelunking in search of things yet to be found. Fortunately, he was rational enough to know he’d just die hungry, cold, and probably divorced.

  So instead, he simply stared. Stared at the stars, stared at the satellites, stared at the impressive amount of floating garbage that had accumulated over the years. There was always something floating around out there. But the most prominent object in view had to be the impressive red planet, Mars, formerly known as New America, formerly known as Mars. As a technically-Earth-controlled vessel, it was probably in his best interest to stay out of their devoid-of-air-space. They were a bit touchy about that.

  Relations between the two planets were set up for failure right from its colonization four hundred or so years ago. After his wall was a colossal failure, and his attempts to “fire” Mexico proved ineffectual, then-President Trump, in a fit of frustration, re-allocated the entire defense budget into his Space Force idea. This last-ditch measure to make good on his anti-immigration policies by moving the US to Mars was received with mixed reviews. Like his campaign, at first people thought it was a joke. Unbeknownst to them, the irony of invading a planet to prevent people from invading his country was entirely lost on their glorious leader. The fact he wanted to relocate not only the population but literally the entire landmass didn’t help the idea’s credibility either. Apparently, he had read an xkcd article and mistakenly concluded he could funnel the United States nuclear reserve underground and use it to blast their way up. But after narrowly defeating Senator West to win a second term, all he managed to get started was a terraforming mission. Any of the mysterious plan that remained was lost after his tragic assassination at the hands of radicals protesting his decision to expand the list of capital-punishment offences.

  The tragedy proved disastrous for America’s long-term survival. As all his cabinet members had abandoned him one by one, the late president had instead chosen to appoint himself to each position, including Vice President, Speaker of the House, and Grand Moff of the Space Force. Once again, people thought this was a joke, right up until he used the FBI to enforce the appointments. Therefore, with no contingencies in place for such an event, his untimely death created a power vacuum from which the once-mighty nation simply could not recover. Desperate consolidation attempts were made, but ultimately everyone agreed to disagree and went their separate ways. Some went to Mexico, some went to Canada, some went to Kokomo. Eventually other countries swooped in to pick up the pieces, and before long, all that remained of the Trump administration was a giant green-and-blue blotch that marred the red planet like a spot of (terraformed) mould.

  “DUUUUDE, this is taking forever!!” Willy’s voice rang out as he found his way back into the bridge. “Whoa! What! Why are we going to Mars?!”

  “WHAT?!” Donald barked across the room. He hopped out of his chair and waddled up to the window. “You’re taking us to Mars?! Are you crazy?! We’re at war, man! They’ll impound the ship and throw us in a room with fluorescent lights and strap us to beds with double-digit thread counts while they tickle us and force us to listen to the Meow Mix song for hours on end!”

  He only stopped upon the introduction of his captain’s hands clamping down on either shoulder. Cox couldn’t seem to decide whether he was trying to restrain the fellow or massage away his dismay.

  “Whoa, whoa, take it easy, you guys! We’re not going to Mars. It’s just aligned between Earth and the belt right now, so we gotta drive by it.”

  “Oh.” They both spoke in unison. Donald scratched at his face for a moment before turning to shuffle back to his seat.

  “And war is a pretty strong word, Donny!” The captain continued, hoping to keep conversation alive. “Mars just wants to sabotage our economy into failure so that they can have exclusive domain over the asteroid belt. It’s totally different.”

  “Doesn’t that just mean it’s a cold war?” Willy asked.

  “Yeah, sure, you could call it that!”

  Donald blew a raspberry.

  “Yeah, another cold war so we can get another fresh batch of spy movies to distract us from the government stripping all our rights away for our own protection!”

  Now it was Cox and Willy’s turn to shuffle in discomfort. The communications officer stalked back to his station and sank into his bean-bag chair—the one piece of Cox’s antique collection he expressed any affection for. After a few beats, the captain cleared his throat.

  “Well . . . I can take you to Mars then, if you want. That way you won’t have any rights to strip?”

  Not even a sarcastic chuckle of acknowledgement from Donny. Cox mentally shrugged; if it were too easy to amuse him, then it wouldn’t be an accomplishment when he succeeded! He’d try again later. For now, he would just enjoy the view. Getting to be in such close proximity to Mars on the way home didn’t happen often, after all. That said, it happened every two years so it wasn’t exactly rare either. But like other biennial events nobody really cares about, such as the World Scrabble Championship or the Pyongyang International Film Festival, if it’s happening right in front of you and you have nothing else to do, why not give it a look?

  Tiny specks of ships buzzed around the green Mars nipple like fruit flies. Many of them were probably delivery ships like his own, arriving home to dispense their plunder, or space buses ferrying citizens from orbital housing down to the surface. Intermixed among them would be the border patrol, of course; keeping an eye out of possible interlopers—whenever they weren’t pulling people over for speeding or tethered skiing in high traffic zones.
But whenever Cox looked down at areas with a high volume of vehicles from above he would inevitably find himself having the same thought:

  I wonder how many of these people are drunk right now.

  Before long, the red planet had drifted by, and the milling ships began to blur together until they were mere static disrupting Cox’s (inter)stellar view. That is, all except for one: a large transport craft drifted along just outside the Martian border rather sluggishly for a vessel of its size. For reasons he was unsure of, something about it just didn’t seem right to him. It could have been the fact that none of its rockets were activated. The way it drifted sideways in the direction of nothing in particular was also a tad bizarre, but that could be a minor oversight that would be corrected once orders were received.

  However, when every other ship around oriented themselves in the same direction, the fact that it floated along inverted like a limp, dead fish was something he just couldn’t find a way to rationalize.

  3.

  BREAK OUT THE

  REDSHIRTS AND

  BROWN PANTS

  LOOK ALIVE, SPACE CADETS!” Cox announced to his crew, tossing his whale bone aside so his hands could be free to clap. “Trouble on the port bow!”

  “I thought you said I was an ensign.”

  The captain shook his head.

  “Space cadet’s not a rank, it’s—never mind. Come take a look at this.”

  Donald grumbled but complied nonetheless. With a grunt of exertion, he hoisted himself off his bean bag and proceeded to the viewport. Once there, he quickly saw the object of his captain’s fascination. The vessel continued to drift like a child’s abandoned bath toy. Maybe all those video games had desensitized him, but he didn’t seem particularly perturbed by the sight.

  “Look at that ship, Donny. What do you make of it?”

  “I dunno. It’s not doing anything?”

  “Exactly! And it looks like an Earth ship! Why would it be all adrift way out here by Mars, rotated in a different direction than everybody else?!”