Dan and Frankie Save the World

by Richard Langridge

  Dex, on the other hand, didn’t seem scared at all. In fact, if I wasn’t mistaken, he seemed to be having the time of his life. ‘Hahaha! Try again, you pipniverly squagmires!’ he cried as he pulled and jerked the joystick. He turned back to me, eyes wild, like a kid having just tasted Coke for the first time. ‘LOOK OUT, BIF—CAUSE WE’RE HEADING TO THE DAAAANGER ZONE!’ And he cackled as he barrel-rolled us for what felt like the millionth time.

  We were all going to die.

  ‘WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?’ I cried. ‘THEY’RE RIGHT ON OUR TAIL!’

  ‘Can’t we warp out of here?’ said Luna.

  ‘Uh-uh,’ said Dex. ‘They’d just follow our slipstream—besides, I got a better idea.’

  He pointed towards a large cluster of shapes ahead—what looked suspiciously like ships—however one look at them told me these were ships that had not seen action in a long time (and not just because a good majority of them were in pieces). Bits of ship innards floated freely like the internal organs of some eviscerated giant robot, in the aftermath of what in all appearances looked to have been one epic battle. It was like a ship graveyard. The place where all good ships came to die. ‘Anybody up for a detour?’

  ‘IN THERE?!’ I cried.

  From beside me, also clinging on for dear life, Luna shook her head. ‘I agree. It’s too dangerous. We’ll never make it.’

  Clearly viewing our protestations as a green light, he pointed us at the debris field, whistling the tune to Kenny Loggins’ Danger Zone as he sent us speeding towards what was sure to be our deaths. Reckless endangerment aside, we were really going to have to have a talk about how he knew all these pop culture references—if we lived that long, of course.

  More ducking and diving ensued as we weaved past chunks of dead ships, my stomach rolling so hard I was amazed I still had possession of my lunch. The visor-men followed suit, bobbing and weaving around ship parts while barely even slowing down.

  ‘Well—that worked,’ said Luna. ‘Any more bright ideas?’

  Dex thought for a moment before jumping to his feet. ‘Take the stick.’

  ‘Wait… really?’

  ‘TAKE THE STICK. THERE’S NO TIME TO ARGUE.’

  He stormed off somewhere in back.

  I followed after him, concern forming a fierce knot in my gut. I watched as he shrugged down his prison jumpsuit, began shoving himself into a pair of heavy-duty pants, like the ones astronauts wear. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Outside.’

  ‘Outside-outside…?’

  ‘Do you know of more than one kind of outside, Bif?’ I tried to answer, but then he was handing me a suit, too. ‘Put this on.’

  ‘Crap, no!’

  ‘There’s no time, Bif! Now put on the damn suit!’

  ‘Why?!’

  ‘You’ll see. It’ll be fine. Just trust me.’ He held the suit out towards me.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to quit until he got what he wanted, I reluctantly began shunting myself into the suit. It was surprisingly weighty, the pants alone so heavy and cumbersome it was all I could do not to fall down. I slipped on the top section, my narrow shoulders all but lost inside the thick material. Then came the helmet. It smelled like beer and stale farts. Of course it did.

  The helmet locked in place with a CLUNK-HISS.

  Dex finished slipping on his own helmet, then reached over my shoulder, me for one moment thinking we were about to hug it out—which I truthfully wouldn’t have minded, because I was very scared—but then he hit a button on the wall instead.

  There was another deafening hiss as gas plumed around our feet, and Steve’s floppy door fell open.

  Through the opening, deep space beckoned.

  I gripped my helmet, a million terrible scenarios playing out in my head, all of which involving me dying a slow death in the cold, merciless vacuum of space. I was reminded of a movie I once saw. Some old ‘80s sci-fi flick. A dude got sucked out of an airlock into space and exploded. He wasn’t wearing a suit, which probably didn’t help matters. I didn’t know if that’s really what happened when you entered space unprepared. I wasn’t an astro-physicist. I just didn’t want to explode.

  But to my surprise, I didn’t go outside.

  Instead, Dex clambered over to me, big space-boots clomping. It was then I noticed the items in his hand, what looked suspiciously like a whiteboard and marker, for some reason. In his other hand was a rope.

  He handed the rope to me. ‘DON’T LET GO, OKAY?’

  ‘WAIT, WHAT?!’

  He threw himself out of the ship.

  You’ve probably never watched a man throw himself into deep space before. Believe me when I tell you, it is just as alarming as it sounds.

  I scuttle-ran to the edge of the door after him, gripping the rope tightly, horror and surprise setting my limbs alight. ‘JESUS CHRIST—DEX!’

  Thinking fast, I quickly ran over and tied the rope to the ship’s chassis, tying it off mere seconds before the rope pulled taut.

  I watched through the gap as Dex quickly tethered the other end around himself, despite the fact we were hurtling through space at a speed I wouldn’t have even liked to guess at, before bringing the whiteboard up to his face and beginning to scribble something.

  He turned the board around and held it up for those chasing us to see.

  For a moment, nothing happened, our pursuers continuing diligently after us.

  Then the ships began to wobble on their course, as if having been struck with imaginary bullets. There was a moment where it looked like they were going to be okay regardless, before the one on the left wobbled hard and dive-bombed into its companion, the two of them disappearing instantly in a ball of flame and inexplicableness.

  Umm, what…?

  Calling upon all my strength, I was finally able to drag Dex back aboard.

  There was another loud hiss as the cargo area repressurized.

  ‘WHEW!’ said Dex, popping off his helmet. He wiped a hand over his sweaty brow. ‘Man, it is hella hot in there!’

  Just then, the cockpit door whizzed up, and Luna emerged, looking serious. ‘What happened? Did we lose them?’

  Dex nodded. ‘You could say that.’

  Curious, I stepped over to where the whiteboard lay discarded and turned it around.

  Written on it were two words, forged in the barely legible scrawl of a man being hauled wildly through space by what was the borderline equivalent of a space Winnebago:

  DON’T CRASH.

  I stared at it. It was just so stupid. ‘SERIOUSLY?!’

  Dex tapped his temple. ‘Reverse psychology, Bif. Works every time.’

  ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,’ said Luna.

  ‘And yet, here we are.’

  We helped him to his feet, then stood back as he began pulling himself out of the suit.

  ‘So,’ said Luna. ‘Want to tell us what was so important about this old rust bucket you couldn’t leave without it?’

  ‘Certainly.’ He hobbled back over to the cockpit, began pawing at someplace over his head. Seconds later, there was a loud THUNK-THUNK from behind us, followed by a series of metal clinks as a panel on the wall slid up, and a couple hundred cans tumbled out.

  Beer. He’d risked our lives for beer. I would have been furious, really, if I hadn’t been so utterly speechless.

  As we stared down at the pile, Dex waltzed over and picked up a can. He popped the tab and slurped, then gave a hearty belch, completely indifferent to our stares.

  ‘Wait, hold up—you risked our lives for beer?!’ said Luna.

  ‘There’s porn, too.’

  ‘You incredible asshole!’

  ‘DON’T TALK TO BIF LIKE THAT.’

  ‘I WAS TALKING TO YOU, JERK!’

  ‘AND ANOTHER THING!’ said Dex, getting now right in her face, even though she was taller than him, and he was still half in his space suit. ‘IF YOU THINK I’M GOING TO LET YOU GET IN THE WAY OF BIF AND MINE’S ADVENTURES, YOU
CAN THINK AGAIN! CAUSE YOU AIN’T BREAKING UP THIS BAND, YOKO!’

  ‘HOW DO YOU KNOW THESE REFERENCES?!’ I cried.

  Dex opened his mouth to answer—

  A sudden explosion rocked the cargo area.

  We all fell to the side as red glare began to sweep around the cargo bay, the phantom bison once again resuming its siren call.

  BALLS! BALLS! BALLS!

  I held my hands out in front of me. ‘WHAT WAS THAT?!’

  Instead of answering, Dex rushed to the cockpit, began tapping on a keyboard-type instrument until another hologram appeared, this one showing the exterior of the ship, where a good portion of it looked to now be on fire. Even though I admittedly didn’t know jack about spaceships, that couldn’t have been good.

  ‘Damn!’ cried Dex. He pounded a fist on the armrest. ‘Those asshats must have clipped us, after all.’

  ‘Location?’ said Luna.

  ‘Filtration system. Below deck. Next to the—’ His face went slack. ‘Uh-oh…’

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘The, uh, splitters are gone.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘They’re what separates the gasses on board and recycles them for use. Oxygen and nitrogen for the air, carbon dioxide and hydrogen for the water. If they’re gone, then…’ He let his hands fall to his sides.

  I felt my sphincter tighten as realization dawned. ‘Wait, Dex—are you saying we’re running out of air?’ It was like every time we got a break, the universe threw us a curveball. Stupid, stupid universe. ‘What do we do?!’

  ‘Best bet is to make for the nearest habitable planet and hope there’s someone down there willing to make a trade.’

  ‘That… doesn’t sound like much of a plan.’

  ‘Hey, you got a better one, I’m all ears.’ He made a face. ‘Just one problem, though.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘We, uh, only have enough air for around the next fifteen minutes.’

  A heavy silence followed as we mulled over the implications of this statement.

  ‘So that’s it, then,’ said Luna finally. She let her hands fall to her sides. ‘We’re screwed.’

  ‘Maybe not…’ said Dex. He tilted his head towards the ceiling. ‘Steve, how long to the nearest hospitable planet?’

  EIGHT MINUTES AND THIRTY-ONE SECONDS, YOU GLORIOUS BASTARD, said a voice from somewhere above us; a voice that, again, sounded suspiciously like Dex’s. PROVIDING WARP IS UTILIZED.

  ‘But that still doesn’t solve the problem of air,’ I said. ‘We’ll be dead before we touch down.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  Before I could inquire as to his meaning, he reached under his seat, removing a series of strange-looking mouthpieces. Attached to them were a couple of clear baggies. On the sides of each, huge smiley faces had been drawn, their faces pulled tight in pain as of someone suffocating to death.

  Oxygen masks.

  Slowly, I nodded to myself.

  We were going to die.

  5

  Editor’s note: What follows is a recounting of the events as best relayed to me by Dex after the fact. So as to their legitimacy, I’ll leave that to you, the reader, to decide; however, knowing Dex, I’d advise you to take it all with a pinch of salt, as he has been known to exaggerate.

  We reached our destination several short minutes later, snapping out of warp in front of a planet that looked, for the most part, more or less like Earth—if, that was, Earth had no ocean or discernable landmass to speak of. So nothing like Earth, then.

  Small. Rust-coloured. Vaguely hostile-looking, though I couldn’t say exactly why. It could have been Mars.

  I thought Mars was pretty optimistic, however.

  To all of our surprise, breaking through the planet’s atmosphere had proven a piece of cake, the ride down for the most part entirely smooth—or at least, as smooth as could be expected, considering we were already partially on fire. Nothing exploded, and no bits fell off—not even that pointless flappy fin on the roof, which I had previously assumed had only been fixed there with duct tape.

  So right here’s where I should probably warn you that things from here on out get a little, for lack of a better word, “cloudy”.

  I remember making our descent, Steve shaking wildly as we hurtled towards the planet’s surface, though still holding it together like a champ. I do not recall blacking out (then again, who does?), though it must have been fairly early on, as we’d still been minutes away from the surface. Of course, I was running on very little oxygen, so maybe I’m wrong here.

  It was at this point we’d supposedly been met with some “sudden and unexpected” turbulence (Dex’s theory here being that some part of Steve had chosen that particular moment to, and I quote, “royally shit the bed”), sending us spiralling towards what was sure to be our imminent deaths.

  Thankfully, while Luna and I had been “bitched-out” over the console (again, not my words), Dex had managed to maintain his awareness by “calling upon the powers of his enormous penis”—though how, or to what end he accomplished this feat, is still unclear. When the stick had subsequently locked moments later, with Dex unable to turn it, he had whipped out said enormous penis and used it as a lashing to gain a firmer hold, the outcome of which being why it was we were all currently still alive. Again, as to the validity of these claims, I’ll leave that to you to decide.

  Either way, what’s clear is Dex did indeed manage to land us—if, that is, your idea of a “landing” is half-burying yourself in sand upon touchdown. Apparently not even the powers of his “enormous penis” were enough to ensure that small detail.

  When I finally came to, I was lying sprawled atop a bed of sand, staring up at Steve’s charred bottom half sticking up out of the ground at what was an almost sheer ninety-degree angle. It had really taken a beating, I saw, the hull all mangled and scratched, with ragged bits of jutting metal sticking out from it in places. Of course, being Dex’s ship, there was every chance it’d looked like this before the crash, and I just hadn’t noticed—who, speaking of which, was currently sat under its shade, his prison jumpsuit now rolled down to his waist, a look on his face like this was all just a part of the plan, which I assure you it absolutely was not.

  ‘What happened?’ I said, pushing myself up on my elbows.

  ‘You passed out. I think because you have a vagina. But also maybe it was the oxygen-thing. I wouldn’t worry about it.’ He reached behind him and pulled out a can, before holding it out to me. ‘Beer? It’s, uh, a little warm.’

  ‘You’re drinking? In this heat?’

  ‘Hydration, Bif. Especially in these conditions. Got to keep those fluids up. Which reminds me; I think you might have peed your pants a little. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Luna, but…’

  I blinked as the obvious dawned.

  Luna!

  I scrambled towards Steve’s open door, panic igniting inside me like a bin fire—

  Dex held up a hand. ‘Relax, hot-shot. She’s fine. Everybody’s fine. She’s just resting. Took a bump to the noggin when we landed. Nothing serious. She’ll live.’

  I bent over and put my hands on my knees. All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe, the air so stifling it was like being inside an oven. I didn’t think I’d ever been so hot in my entire life. Sweat poured off me in torrents, the prison jumpsuit now all sopping and sticking to me, attacking my sweltering parts the same way a shower curtain does the second you decide to step into the tub. I could feel every pulse of blood as it raced through my brain, each one like a fist thumping against my scalp. And the sun—the sun! I could barely keep my eyes open.

  Squinting, I turned my eyes toward the horizon. Just sand, as far as the eye could see. Sand in every direction; great, rolling hills of the stuff. It was Dune-world. So that couldn’t be good.

  When I could finally talk again, I said, ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘The plan? Shouldn’t we b
e going to find this trader-guy? Someone to trade parts with so we can fix Steve and get the hell out of here? That’s what you said, right?’

  ‘Oh—yeah. About that. I, uh, did some scans of the place before making our descent. Turns out this planet? It’s unmapped.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Sooo—and you’re gonna laugh when you hear this, Bif—it kind of means we’re the only ones on it.’

  His words hit me like a slap to the face.

  I stared at him, my mouth open, the words going in, but for whatever reason refusing to compute.

  ‘Wait, Dex,’ I said, frowning. ‘Are you saying we’re stuck here?’

  ‘ “Stuck” is such a strong word. Personally, I prefer “stranded”. But don’t sweat it, Bif; these kinds of things? They usually have a way of—’

  He went to say more, but then I was launching myself at him, tackling him around the waist and tumbling us both to the sand, fists already swinging away.

  I could feel my eyes huge in my head, feel the spit as it flew from my mouth. I had never gone crazy with rage before. It was actually kind of liberating.

  Dex deflected the blows with ease, of course. But he did frown. ‘Bif! Stop—you’re going to spill your beer!’

  ‘YOU KILLED ME! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I’M GOING TO DIE HERE BECAUSE OF YOU!’

  ‘Not this again…’

  I punched him in the balls.

  He pushed me off, the two of us falling backwards. He raised a finger. ‘Okay, now, that’s illegal—!’

  I threw sand at him.

  His eyes widened. He turned slowly to look at me, sand still dripping from his head and shoulders, an expression on his face like OH NO YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT. ‘Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, is it?’

  He bent down and snatched up a handful of sand.

  It was just then that Luna emerged from Steve’s floppy door, shambling awkwardly out to greet us, face pinched tight against the raging sun. ‘What the hell is going on?!’

  ‘Luna, stay back—the heat’s driven Bif insane with rage!’

  ‘AAAAHHHHHHH!’ I cried.

  I launched myself at him again.