The Nerdy Dozen #2

by Jeff Miller

  As he watched the asteroid hurtle toward the blue dab of Earth, Neil slowly removed the glass enclosure guarding a red button. It was marked with an outline of a newt, with its lizard legs and tail.

  Neil increased his speed. This was Earth’s only chance of survival. He drifted to the right, speeding ahead of the asteroid’s orbital path.

  “Well, guys, don’t know if anyone can hear me . . . ,” Neil said into his radio, unsure what else to do. “But I guess this is good-bye, because this thing is probably going to explode. I just wanted to say I couldn’t have hoped for a better crew.”

  Neil knew as commander, it was his responsibility to sacrifice himself for the team. Having earned back his friends’ trust, Neil was never going to lose it again. He looked out at the glittering stars and thought of how just days ago he was Guerilla IMAXing in a planetarium.

  Send a message for everyone on the Reboot Spotlight. You might as well just do it. Even if it doesn’t make it, they’ll hear you . . . somehow.

  Neil imagined himself tapping in the IP address for Reboot Robiski’s gaming site and pretended that he was filming a video of himself.

  “Riley, you’re the best swineherd there is,” Neil stammered. “JP, Jasons, Corinne, I can’t wait to hear about your next adventures. Dale and Waffles, thanks for showing me how to hot-wire something. That was a big bucket list item, so thanks.”

  Neil’s lip began to quiver as his eyes began to fuzz with tears. In space, however, they didn’t simply roll down his cheek. He had to wait for them to well up and then bead away from his eyeballs. It was all pretty scientific and annoying.

  “Trevor, good luck on fencing or whatever. I hope you stab just a ton of other kids.” Neil sniffled, his helmet restricting snot-to-sleeve rubbing. “Harris, I’m still glad you didn’t get put in prison or anything. I can’t wait to hear about Feather Duster 3.”

  “Biggs,” Neil said, and then made a few swooping hand gestures, taking a guess at what brothers forever might look like in The Universal Biggs Language.

  “And Sam . . .”

  Neil realized maybe things were weird with Sam, because maybe they were something different than just friends. And that was okay.

  “Sam, you’d hate the constellations from up here. You can’t tell what anything is,” Neil said, sniffling as his nose ran a bit. “I’ll . . . talk to you later.”

  With a long exhale, Neil spun his ship around to directly face the asteroid. He initiated the thrusters of his rocket, using all the fuel left in his reserve tank for a double-warp-speed-plus-fuel-drain assault. Alarms rang out as Neil headed straight for the behemoth flying rock, his thumb resting on the grooved red button.

  SAM WALKED THROUGH MATTED BROWN GRASS TO THE edge of a two-lane highway. The Golden Gecko was stuck in a watery marsh.

  The once-elite Whiptail was now going nowhere.

  Fortunately, Astronaut Clint Minor had been able to guide them back within a few miles of the NASA base on Florida’s coastline.

  Sam knew they had to warn everyone of the impending annihilation.

  “Come on . . . somebody drive by,” Sam said nervously. Her insides felt twisted.

  She knew any asteroid that was able to destroy Earth would stay a secret. Everyone would keep living like a normal day.

  It may not be NASA policy, but honesty is a Sam Gonzales policy. We’ve got to do something.

  She put a hand over her eyes and squinted at the sky. Where was Neil? He should’ve been following just behind in the Newt. She hoped he hadn’t done anything stupid.

  Sam heard the rumble of a diesel engine. A huge black bus rolled over a nearby hill, shimmering in the heat. Sam waved both her hands frantically, signaling for the vehicle to pull over to the side of the road. The engine whirred as the driver downshifted, screeching to a halt in the middle of the swampland road. Sam’s friends cheered.

  Neil, I hope you’re landing somewhere near NASA. We don’t have time to wait.

  “Where are you coming from?” asked the bus driver.

  “Eh, costume party.”

  “In September?”

  “My cousins, they, ah, graduated. From Space Camp,” said Sam. “Listen, it’s a long, long story. Where are you coming from?”

  “Well, this is the bus for the baseball team,” the driver said. “The Tallahassee Tough Guys. Big game today—World Series game one. They’re playin’ the Houston Howler Monkeys, and the president’s throwing out the first pitch. Game’s supposed to be broadcast to a billion people. We’re headed to the stadium now; you need a lift?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she said. “And do you have any extra room for my friends?”

  “I thought you said they were your cousins?”

  “Cousin friends. Why do they have to be different, you know?” said Sam as she waved her crew over to the bus. They piled in, and the driver began looking distressed as sixteen people in space suits crammed in.

  “Thanks so much for the ride. Graduation day is a big deal,” Sam said.

  She turned to Mrs. Minor, who was near the driver as the bus lurched into gear. “Right, Aunt M?”

  “Oh, we love graduating things. I’ll give you directions on where we’re going,” she said. “Just take your next left and head north. Then a right at the giant cactus—it’ll be singing; you can’t miss it.”

  After only seven wrong turns and convincing the driver to ram a government-protected gate, the bus skidded to a halt. They were in front of the same NASA hangar they’d left from. A pudgy guard from a security post at the end of the driveway raced toward them, stepping over pieces of the shattered gate.

  “Good luck on the sporting match, fellows!” said Riley, who was the last of the astronauts to skip down the bus’s stairs. “Give the Howler Monkeys the comeuppance they deserve!”

  The Minor family rushed into the NASA base.

  “Draymond?” shouted Mr. Minor, his voice echoing as he entered the empty hangar.

  “Hello? Anybody?” Sam yelled.

  “I don’t see him,” gasped Dale after darting through the building’s astronaut memorial hallway. “Want me to check outside? Think he’s in the SQUID?”

  “Hello? Who’s there?” came a man’s baritone voice.

  It was Finch, walking through the hangar’s double doors. He looked a mess, with bags under his eyes and wearing a wrinkled suit. He’d undone the first few buttons of his shirt, which was now untucked. He looked like a zombie version of himself. Behind him was Yuri, who apparently never left the base from earlier.

  “Commander!” shouted Biggs, who made a “spirit fingers” motion with one hand while circling a four-legged hand animal with the other.

  “We’d been following you all, but tech has been malfunctioning. How’d you all get back here?” he said, baffled to see the kids he sent to space earlier in the weekend. “No matter how you got back, I’m just glad to see you.” But as he locked eyes with Clint and Elle Minor, his jaw dropped.

  “Hi, Draymond,” said Mr. Minor, his face warming with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

  “No, it can’t be,” Finch said, tears welling in his eyes. “I searched for you for months. You’re missing!”

  The unkempt astronaut giggled, scratching his brambly comb-over.

  “What was that you used to tell us? Question everything?” Mr. Minor said. “Seems like Kip and Edmond have some explaining to do.”

  “We have some memorials to take down,” said Finch. “But first, Q-94. We’ve got a mission to finish.”

  “And a toboggan to fix!” added Mrs. Minor, who noodled her arms with Biggs-like hand gestures. “And our scientific pee collection to show you!” Kip and Edmond quietly approached their mother and wrangled her away by each arm.

  “Wow, that’s some stage-three Space Silliness.” Finch’s brow crinkled as he locked eyes with Mr. Minor. “Clint, it’s too late. I wish our situation was different, but I’ve been tracking it nonstop. There’s nothing we can do to stop the asteroid.”r />
  “But Neil was supposed to be right behind us in the Newt. We recovered it,” said Sam. Neil was her best friend and the best leader she’d met; he wouldn’t let her down.

  “I checked radar and didn’t see anything tailing you,” said Finch.

  She felt sick.

  “But he promised . . . ,” said Sam.

  Sam knew there wasn’t time for sadness. It was maybe too late for Neil, but she knew she had to try something. Anything was better than just waiting to get squashed.

  “Well, we’ve got to do something!” Sam blurted.

  “Well, at this point, our best bet is to hunker down in the SQUID,” said Finch. “The asteroid’s due to hit within hours, but we were wrong by days before. There’s literally nothing else we can do.”

  “Come now, Draymond,” said Mr. Minor. “Surely there’s something else to be done?”

  “Can an asteroid ramp off something to jump over Earth?” asked Jason 2. “There haven’t been enough things ramping off other things for my tastes.”

  “Agreed,” said Dale.

  “Hear, hear!” added Riley.

  “Can we at least get a broadcast out, Commander Finch?” Sam said. “If the world’s about to end, people should at least be able to know. Even for a few minutes.”

  “But you can’t just stir the entire population of Earth into a frenzy,” the commander replied. “It would be madness.”

  “He’s got a point. If I heard the world was ending, I would just run into a Dairy Queen and pour soft-serve directly into my mouth,” Waffles said bluntly. “I could name at least four other dudes back home currently doing the same thing. And they don’t even know about the asteroid.”

  “I think Sam’s got a point,” said Harris. “Hear her out.”

  “Who is this?” asked Finch.

  “Oh, that’s Pickles,” said Corinne. Dallas and a slew of NASA technicians entered the hangar, rushing past the filthy crew members.

  “Commander, how do you know it would be madness? You have to give people a chance,” Sam said. “Wouldn’t you want to have the chance to say a few good-byes to people you love?”

  He closed his eyes. His nostrils flared with a few breaths before he spoke.

  “You’re right,” he said in a low voice. “I guess we’ve just got to be honest.”

  Sam thought about her friend Astronaut Neil Andertol.

  “We have to tell people right away. Can you broadcast from here? Is there a camera?” Sam said.

  “I think we may have something. Follow me,” Finch said as he power walked to the hangar’s exit with purpose.

  “Follow that gingerbread man! He’s getting away!” shouted Mrs. Minor.

  Finch led Sam, her crew, and the family of astronauts into the depths of the control center. Dallas looked tired and stressed, like Finch. It didn’t seem like she had slept since the crew left on their mission.

  “We used to do news broadcasts from right here,” Finch said, pulling a dusty white sheet off a wood desk. A pair of clunky, ancient cameras pointed at two orange chairs behind it. “Hasn’t been used in a decade, though. Maybe more.”

  “But we could broadcast to everybody? The whole country?” asked Sam.

  “The whole world,” Edmond said confidently. “Hacking this stuff is simple. Me and Kiki can get this broadcast on every satellite in existence.”

  “Well, let’s hope the old dog’s still got some juice,” said Biggs as he turned on the studio lights.

  Kip and Edmond swarmed the computers and began clacking at the old plastic keys.

  Jason 1 entered the studio’s control room, which was separated by thick soundproof glass. He began punching a keypad connected to a wall of TVs.

  Dale and Waffles flipped bulky metal switches attached to the two cameras and toyed with their focus.

  “Hey, found these under a dusty sheet,” said Jason 2, clutching two burgundy suit coats in either hand. They were emblazoned with the NASA logo and had bulky shoulder pads sewn inside.

  “We’ve got the feed for the World Series,” said Kip. “Anybody tuning in to see President Slugshoe will see our broadcast.”

  “You kids can really do all this?” said an impressed Finch.

  “Oh, the stories we’ve got for you. You should ask more questions, Commander,” said JP, who assumed the position of technical director. He threw on an old headset and attached the connected battery pack to his suit. “Now this is gonna be live, people. We’ve only got one shot at this.”

  Biggs and Sam plopped into the chairs behind the news desk, brushing the dust from their jackets. They slid them over their space suits, which was like putting a coat over hockey pads.

  “TESTING!”

  Everyone covered their ears, cringing as Jason 1’s voice rang out over the speakers.

  “Sorry about that. Ready for the broadcast when you are.”

  JP raised a hand and slowly counted down from five. As red lights atop each camera blinked on, Mrs. Minor slowly wandered into the frame. She had a pleasant smile, but her hair was still an unkempt Martian mess.

  “Everyone needs to start saving their boogers,” said Mrs. Minor into the camera.

  “Whoa! Okay, just focus on me,” said Sam. Mr. Minor escorted his wife offscreen, and Waffles zoomed the camera in toward Sam.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of Earth. First off, hey. I’m Sam,” she said with a half smile and wave.

  “And I’m Biggs. Welcome to your five-o’clock hijacked space news.”

  From offscreen, Riley made the sound of a bugle.

  “People of this planet we call home, there’s something you need to see.”

  The screen cut to a shot outside. It broadcast a picture of light-blue sky, with blobs of white clouds. It was a beautiful afternoon.

  “In only a few hours, Earth may . . . Earth might . . .”

  Sam wasn’t sure exactly what to say. But her attention was drawn to the outside camera shot. Sam watched as a ball of light appeared in the camera’s lens. It grew larger, and Sam knew it was Q-94. She took a deep breath and could feel her hands tremble.

  “You tried your best, Neil.”

  She braced herself for the asteroid to hit. But impact never happened. Sam opened her eyes. She watched the streak split, and instead it separated into tiny flares that plunged toward the ocean. It looked like fireworks.

  Somehow, amazingly, Earth was safe.

  The radio in her suit began to crackle to life.

  “Houston? Dallas?” came a faint voice. “Sacramento? Anybody?”

  “Roger,” said Finch, bringing his hand to his earpiece. “Repeat your transmission?”

  It sounded like Neil.

  “Neil!”

  “Man, is it good to hear your voice.”

  Sam had a radiant smile.

  But then his voice was gone and static filled the studio.

  “ACTUALLY, VIEWERS, UH, THIS WILL DISCONTINUE THE emergency asteroid test. Great job, everyone,” said Sam to the in-studio camera. “If this had been a real asteroid emergency, you would have heard a series of high-pitched squeaks, and my partner here would have made the universal sign for emergency.”

  Biggs looked solemnly into the camera and, placing a thumb into each nostril, waved his palms and fingers.

  “But, like I said, everything is fine,” Sam reassured the audience. “Go, Tallahassee Tough Guys!”

  The Coast Guard patrol ship slapped across the choppy waves of the mid-Atlantic with a crew of astronauts and video gamers, heading toward a smoldering capsule.

  They lifted the container onto the ship, and Finch nervously swung open the hatch door.

  “Neil?” yelled Sam.

  As navy-blue-clad sailors sorted through the parachute of the space capsule, they scooped Neil up to the ship’s deck. Sam rushed to the entrance of the dripping metal space capsule. She looked down with worry, her chest tight.

  “Did you miss me?” came Neil’s voice from the darkened pod.

  Neil’s hands
grabbed the sides of the hatch as he tried to crawl out. He was still woozy from the flight home.

  “It’s okay, sit down,” said Finch, clutching the arm of his recruit. “Things are going to feel weird for a moment. Days even.”

  “I made it? Reboot got my message. Is he still here?” asked a fuzzy Neil. He was drenched in sweat.

  “What? We found you in this capsule,” said Sam.

  “The pod. It was filling up with water,” Neil stammered. “But Reboot Robiski appeared like a dream. He threw a video controller in the water and pulled me to safety. He said he got my message.”

  “You just take it easy, Neil,” said Sam. “I’m beginning to wonder if you’re displaying stage-two Space Silliness yourself. But you did it, Neil Andertol.”

  “So it worked?” Neil asked enthusiastically, squinting his eyes at the sun.

  “I mean, I guess it did, whatever it was,” replied Finch. He patted Neil on the shoulder with his thick hand and gave him a smile.

  “That button—” Neil said as he took a space blanket from Dallas.

  “You mean it worked?” asked Finch, jumping into the conversation. Soldiers attended to the Minor parents as well.

  “That’s the top secret level of Shuttle Fury, though. How did you know what to do?”

  Neil rubbed the back of his head. “Or at least I think that’s what it did. I pushed it right before I was due to hit the asteroid. Faster than double-warp drive and everything.”

  “Just like we designed it!” said a rejoicing Dallas.

  “I think whatever happened, the ship shot me off in a one-man capsule back to home,” Neil said. “The only thing I remember seeing was the asteroid colliding with the ship. But it looked like a giant food fight.”

  Without asking, Sam went up to Neil and gave him a hug. It was one of those ultralong, several-deep-breaths types of affairs. He looked at his friend with tired eyes, and they didn’t need to say a word.

  “Neil Andertol, I thought you were a goner!” shouted Biggs, disrupting the tender moment. “I worried we were gonna have to go back to Mars to find your body all shriveled up.”