by Stuart Boyd
***
After the excitement of the meteor strike, Stella thought she’d welcome a bit of boredom. She was wrong. Dodds announced over breakfast that it was time the Attic was Gravo-waxed, and Tom and Stella were volunteered. They were each given a pair of very smelly overalls and an extremely heavy bucket of foul-smelling goop. This, apparently, was Gravo-wax, and they had to rub it onto every surface of the Attic, so they wouldn’t all start floating about. It took them all day to finish the whole ship. Tom complained throughout that the wax was so stinky it made his eyes sting and his nose run. Stella hated the fact that it was so sticky it seemed to get everywhere, including her hair. It also didn’t help that Wendell would take any opportunity he could to sneak away from the wheel room and mope by them.
“You missed a bit,” he said, as he bobbed along the ceiling.
Tom threw a filthy rag at him, but Wendell dodged out of the way.
“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” Stella said. She stood up from rubbing the wax on the floor and gave a grimace as she rubbed the ache in her back.
“No,” Wendell said, “I’m meant to be studying some boring old star charts, but they just end up sending me to sleep.”
“How come?” Stella asked.
“Well, it doesn’t help that they’re written in such tiny writing. I try to concentrate, but I end up just drifting off…”
“No, I mean, how come Uncle Dodds has got you studying.”
“Yeah, you could help us Gravo-waxing,” Tom said. “I could smear some on the top of you, and you could bounce into the hard-to-reach places.”
“That stuff just weighs me down. I fell into a bucket of it once, and I was as heavy as a bowling ball for a week.”
“So what are you studying for?” Stella interrupted.
“I’ll have you know that I am a trainee navigator,” Wendell pronounced, glowing proudly.
“Oh yeah?” Tom sniffed, wiping his nose on his overall, leaving a brown streak across his face.
“Yes, actually,” Wendell said indignantly. “My family are all navigators. It’s a family tradition.”
“That’s nice,” Stella said.
“No, it isn’t,” Wendell said. He sagged and drooped down to the floor. “I’m rubbish at it. Both of my parents are brilliant navigators, and my brothers and sisters are all going to Navigation Academy.”
“A lot to live up to, then?” Tom said sympathetically.
“Don’t worry, Wendell, you’ll get the hang of the studying sooner or later.” Stella tried to reassure him.
“The star charts are just a part of it,” Wendell said miserably. “I’m a Nebuloid, and normally Nebuloids are meant to guide ships from the outside. It’s like my father keeps lecturing me: ‘A good navigator follows their instinct. Nebuloids can pinpoint their place in the galaxy, wherever they are, and use the currents of the cosmos to guide them.”
“What does that mean?” Tom asked.
“I think it means we can never get lost. But I’ve never been outside long enough to even meet a cosmic raisin. I’m a complete failure as a navigator. Doctor Dodds only took me on as an apprentice because I flunked out of navigation school. Nobody else would take me.”
“I’m sure Doctor Dodds wouldn’t have taken you on as an apprentice if he thought you were that bad, Wendell,” Stella said.
Wendell wasn’t reassured, though, and turned a depressed blue colour.
Stella spent a long time in the shower that evening, but no matter how much she scrubbed her skin, the smell of the Gravo-wax just wouldn’t go away. She staggered back to her bunk that night, aching all over, and her hands felt raw.
Helix was lying on the bottom bunk (Stella had taken the top). He was indulging in his favourite hobby, chewing a jellied dog toy. Stella didn’t know how he had done it, but she supposed he had smuggled a few onto the Attic. She had long since given up telling him off about it. In fact, Stella was more worried about how life in space was affecting the husky. It was noticeable that he was looking a little more podgy than usual. Stella was sure it had a lot to do with the fact Helix didn’t have anywhere to run around, and he was proving to be a little too successful in begging for scraps of food from the Mechomator.
“I don’t know how far away it is to the Pilades Cluster, but I hope it’s not too long because another few days like this and you won’t be able to fit out the hatch,” she told him. “Tomorrow I’m going to ask Doctor Dodds whether we can get you some exercise.”
Helix just gave an offended woof and sprawled back on the bunk.
