“Whenever you need to poop. You just poop. And that shit'll disappear. Literally."
“Where does it go?”
“The rectums are programmed to deliver excrement to the nearest sun.” Amy took that one.
“So you don’t think people somewhere are getting crapped on by us?”
“No, it goes in the nearest sun.”
“But everything can be hacked…”
“There is no record of this happening.”
“Yet…”
“Why would you want to do that?” The tone in Moon’s voice gave Rick a very precious piece of information. Now was not the time to ask the questions about anal sex.
“I was just curious. I imagined it as a sort of political protest.” Moon’s features softened. Saved it.
“Can we stop talking about shit.” There was a perfect opportunity for a joke there, but Rick decided to pass it up.
“Can you?” Diego filled the vacuum without giving it a second thought. Rick didn’t laugh and that scored him points. Hopefully. Time to change the subject.
“I could eat. Anyone?”
Love Soup
The mess had a hospital cantina vibe. Rick didn’t like it. No character. This ship was their home now. The place needed some personalisation. He was discussing this with Moon, Steve sat a little bit further down on the table. Here but not really. He seemed to be taking the tracker incident quite hard. Rick wanted to help. Being a career fuck-up gave him some insight into Steve’s current mood.
“You alright Steve?” No answer. Rick slid down the bench to get closer. “Mate, you need to stop blaming yourself…”
“I should’ve known. It was probably in some contract I signed…” Steve covered his face. Rick put his arm around his shoulders.
“Mate! Firstly, our ship was being tracked until Ganymede! So really, maybe, you’re only to blame for the clinic on Titan. Where no one was hurt.” Rick sat back as Steve uncovered his face. “And anyway shit happens, and you learn from it!” Rick tried a smile.
Moon scooted down the bench and reached over to put her hand on Steve’s shoulder. Didn’t seem to do much either.
“Luna was my fault. People died on Luna. The show was ruined because of that.”
Steve still didn’t know. Neither did Moon and her Mama. Or Gary and Diego for that matter. The show was always a decoy to escape the Agency and get up to some resistance shenanigans. It was all so confusing.
Rick tended to forget what he was doing most of the time. He wanted to tell them, everyone needed to be on the same page. Another voice in Rick’s head sang a different tune. This is a long flight, don’t piss Brock off, and more importantly, don’t piss Moon off. Rick would keep his mouth shut for a while longer.
“Nah mate! Back on Luna, we were all under surveillance! You can’t take all the blame! You have to share!” That would have to do.
Steve sighed a robotic sound of despair, their efforts at cheering him up didn’t quite have the effect Rick was hoping for. None of the usual banter was working; eventually, Steve just got up and left. Something about going to his quarters for a rest. Rick found that disturbing. He’d gotten used to the bot following him around. Always there in the shadows or in the heart of the action, ready to catch that money shot.
This was the first time Rick and Moon were truly alone together. The moment the thought crossed his mind the panic arrived. Even after everything he’d been through, being kidnapped, almost dying several times including three times in actual space battles. He’d even killed, or at least shared the blame in loss of life incidents. He’d found purpose in life. He’d grown so much, and still, there was a voice within that constantly nagged at him. It told him he was worthless. That he didn’t deserve to be loved. That if he thought he was being loved, it was merely a ploy to hurt his feelings. This voice had always been there, but it had weakened lately. It was quiet now, though it sometimes resurfaced, whenever something went awry.
"You’re going to fuck up."
"No, I’m not, fuck you." Rick hoped this new voice, the hero’s voice would defend him against his demons.
Moon was worried about Steve, but Rick's stomach-brain had moved on. The Mr Food unit was one of those restaurant ones. Rick had not seen one until this ship, but he knew of them. They were designed to make more substantial dishes and could make several at the same time. Designed for the rigours of professional kitchens. And spaceships apparently. The machine was large and supposedly capable of making a lot of whatever Rick wanted. So far it was not cooperating. Rick had tried to neural link his cheeseburger order several times.
“Let me see.” Moon gently pushed him aside and punched her order in manually on the screen.
Mr food made her a big bowl of soup and some bread with cheese. She winked at Rick, picked up her food, and pranced over to their table.
Rick was about to turn back when Moon tripped over the dog and went face first into her soup. It took him a second to register what had happened. Then he burst out laughing. It was too much. He was on his knees now, crawling towards her, laughing. She was still face-first in her soup. Giggling and making bubbles. He could hear her.
“Are you OK?”
The dog was yapping and jumping around Moon. She pushed herself onto her knees and turned to Rick blowing through her pursed lips, dripping soup thoroughly sprinkled his face. The sight of her soup-drenched, dishevelled head did something to Rick. His heart grew three sizes at that moment.
He inched closer, still on his knees, and put his left arm around her waist, looked deep into her eyes, the only part of her not covered in soup. She stopped giggling and, smiling, she bit her lip. Rick could wait no longer and kissed her. It was a long kiss, a passionate kiss, a disgusting kiss. Unless that's your jam. Rick was finding it was.
With this major hurdle to their happiness out of the way the soup drenched lovers were free to eat. Rick tried his order again. Computer says no. After a few more failed attempts he tried Moon’s order. The soup, bread and cheese began to materialise. Fucking Mr Food. He ordered another to replace Moon’s floor food.
Rick took the trays over to her very carefully, each step grotesquely measured. When Moon saw his careful approach, the chuckles started to return. When she saw his food selection, she was on the floor again.
“I... hope... you... enjoy... the... soup!” Moon barely managed to string the words together. Rick sat down and eyed his soup while her uncontrollable laughing fit played out.
Moon had half-hoisted herself onto the bench, she was sniffling and trying to bring her giggles under control. Rick pressed his advantage and they played until Moon threatened to pee on him if he didn’t stop. He stopped. They had just shared their first kiss, best not to escalate too quickly.
Rick had to concede it was a pretty good soup. The bread and cheese too. He’d never have picked that if left to his own devices. He should more often, it was great. Putting the cheese on the bread and then dipping it into the soup until the cheese melted a bit, but before the bread went too soggy. How had he not done this before?
Rick found the main advantage of the soup, cheese and bread combo was its many configurations. Though after a few soupy meals he wanted a cheeseburger. Mr Food was willing to vary the selection of soups, cheeses and breads but for some reason refused to make much else. Rick wondered if this was a military setting.
Brock had told him it made no sense for the military to deprive soldiers of food. Rick had investigated the machine with the help of Moon and found many of the cartridges were missing. He'd continued his inquiry into the Mr Food mystery with Diego on the bridge.
“I haven’t touched the machine amigo!”
“I can’t survive on soup man!”
“Well actually…”
“Not now Amy!”
“She’s right though it’s good for you!”
“Moon, please… I just want a cheeseburger.”
“Cabron! Just go get some more cartridges from the supplies in cargo!”
Ghost Story
Moon decided to accompany Rick to the cargo hold. Playing detective had been fun so far. Moondog followed them on their foraging mission. The cargo hold was bigger than she remembered. Crates everywhere. Some corners had them piled up to the gangway. She wandered around aimlessly, glancing at boxes absentmindedly. She couldn’t help wonder what was in all the crates. If they were filled with supplies, why did they go through so much trouble to resupply on Jupiter? Did anyone have a clue on this ship?
Rick was on the same wavelength. “What’s in those crates? No markings on any of them. Why wouldn’t they mark them.”
“They have markings; you just can’t read them.” Moon shot him a mischievous glance.
“OK, smarty pants! What’s in the crates then?”
“I can’t scan them. It’s a military code language. I don’t have clearance.”
“Well, well, well…”
“Give me a sec! I’m looking up the cargo manifest.”
“I’m waiting…” Rick tried his most obnoxious tone, but Moon was inside her head. She ignored him. The file was locked.
“I can’t get access to the manifest…”
“I’ll ask Mom.” Rick headed towards a camera. Moon never knew if Mom was watching or listening. She found that unsettling. “Mom? Are you there?” Nothing. Rick tried again. No response. “That’s weird.”
“Maybe she didn’t hear you?”
“I don’t know... You’re the scientist...”
“OK well let’s get closer to a control panel.”
There was a control panel near each of the access points and one in the control room. Moon suggested they head to the closest one, back where they came from. Rick hadn’t even noticed the control panel and so deferred to Moon’s better judgement. She tittered at his courtesy.
Suddenly it was very dark. It was also very quiet. The door slid shut. Moondog growled. Moon thought she heard a skittering sound. Maybe some movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Moon?” She reached for Rick. “Did you do that?” She found his hand and squeezed it.
“No, it wasn’t me. Let’s get to the panel.” Moon tugged, and Rick followed.
“Mom? Mom, can you hear me? Isn’t this piece of shit supposed to be new? Mom this isn’t funny! Mom answer me!” Moon squeezed his hand, a tender squeeze. Relax.
Moondog began barking wildly. Moon cycled through her optics. Heat vision just showed an orange and red blob. Night vision showed the dog barking at something above. Rick was looking up as well. Moon looked up just in time to see a crate falling towards them. She felt Rick smack into her instants before the container crashed where they stood.
Rick’s mood was changing from irate to panicky. Moon couldn’t calm him down. She was scared. The night vision and heat vision were better than complete darkness. But in no way did that put her at ease. Almost seeing was practically worse. Almost. One of the cranes started moving. It came swivelling around and smashed into a tower of crates. The boxes came tumbling towards them, an avalanche of crushing containers. Rick instinctively covered Moon, the dog was barking and bounding about dodging the onslaught. The rumbling and crashing stopped as suddenly as it started.
“What. The. Fuck.” Rick retracted his helmet.
“I don’t know…”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. No, I’m OK.” She checked herself though she knew there were no injuries. It put Rick at ease.
Moon’s heart was racing. Rick pulled her closer, and they just lay entombed under the pile of crates. The barking brought an end to their brief respite. Moondog desperately scratched at the boxes trying to reach them. Moon started to reassure the dog as they pushed crates off and climbed out of their improvised fort.
“That was fucking weird!”
“That was scary! Why is the ship malfunctioning?”
“I don’t know! Can you see the control panel?”
“No there are boxes everywhere. I don’t know which way.”
“OK, we climb.” Rick clambered up boxes in front of him and called out to her while holding out his hand. “This way.”
Moon grabbed on to his hand and let Rick hoist her up. They didn’t need to get very high before they got their bearings. Rick thought he saw something and asked Moon if she saw it. She cycled to heat vision. There was the tiniest redness in the otherwise cold blue distance. Moon froze.
“Is someone up there?”
“I don’t know.”
Moon squeezed Rick’s hand. Hard. She concentrated on her breathing. The lights came back on, and they gasped as it momentarily blinded him.
“What the fuck are you two doing? You’ve been gone ages!” Brock.
“Did you see someone come out?”
“What? No. What are you on about?” Moon and Rick gave each other a look of befuddlement while Brock shook his head in disbelief. “Did you find the cartridges?”
“No. Couldn’t find anything.”
“What’s wrong with you? What happened in here?”
Moon took a minute to absorb the scene, she and Rick stood atop a pile of previously well-stacked crates. And they had no convincing explanation to offer. Moon was trembling, Rick tightened his arms around her. This had not been an illusion. They stumbled forwards in a very impractical embrace and went to join Brock who still had that flabbergasted look about him.
“There’s a Mr Food crate there. The logo is on it.”
Brock pointed at a crate by the door and went to pick it up. There was a logo on the container. So maybe they were insane. And perhaps Moon’s general fear had eroded her sanity. But Moondog barked. If he thinks something was up, then something was up. Brock started down the corridor with the crate resting on his shoulder. Moon turned back to look at the cargo bay, she shook the thoughts from her head and caught up with the others.
“You didn’t see anyone come out?”
“No Rick, no one.”
“Must have gone the other way then.” Rick turned to her and she nodded.
“What are you two on about?”
“Is Mom still here?”
“I’m here Rick.”
“Did you not hear me call you?”
“When?”
“When we were locked in the fucking cargo bay!”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Well, I tried calling you. And why did the doors close and the lights go off? And the fucking crane! What was that about?”
“I don’t know Rick. Let me run diagnostics and check records.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Space Madness
Rick’s only solace came from Moon’s regular hand squeezes. They said “you’re not alone, I am here” and he needed some of that right now. At least he wasn’t going crazy alone. Everyone had joined them in the mess. Rick didn’t feel like talking about their cargo incident. Moon did feel like sharing and began recounting the spooky series of events.
He didn’t want to hear it and went to watch Brock reload Mr Food. His mind was on the elusive cheeseburger that had escaped him for days. He made Brock order for him, just in case the machine had it in for him. He got one for Moon too and joined the others at the table. Moon had told them about their tribulations and triggered a Diego story. The one of how he got the ship. Diego thought it was funny, but to Rick, it was a little worrying to think someone could hide on a ship and kill off the entire crew. It was starting to feel like space made people a little crazy.
“Is it me or do people seem a little more insane in space. Take Diego for example. He’s a little demented. Right?”
“Amigo! I’ve been loco for a long time!”
“OK sure, I can believe that!” Rick had to concede.
“Yeah me too!” It was good to see Moon smile.
“I think we can all agree on that!” Brock had joined them with three cheeseburgers. Rick suddenly had a suspicion that Brock had been keeping them all to himself. He shook the thought. That was insane. Right?
; “I pity the fool!”
They all laughed, but Rick steered the conversation back to the topic at hand.
“I thought mental problems were a thing of the past. But I definitely picked up little spikes of crazy in people.” Rick turned to Amy for some wisdom.
“Yeah, something about space seems to erode people’s sanity.”
“It could be the loneliness, the overwhelming sense of insignificance”, Moon mused. Rick had been lonely and without purpose on Earth, if that theory was true he should be feeling an excess of sanity. He wasn't.
“Fool I’m not insignificant! It's the lack of basic comforts fools miss. Like day and night, Terran gravity, an atmosphere. Fools miss that more than anything. I pity the fools.”
“Yeah well, you don’t need to breathe! So fuck off!” Gary's on edge.
“On Terra things are comparatively easy. But mental problems are a product of your environment. Stressful environments cause adverse reactions in people, both mental and physical.” Not what Rick wanted to hear from Amy.
“Space is fucking insane. No one is safe. Cyborgs, robots, AIs everybody goes crazy in space.” Diego’s maniacal laugh got everyone going again.
“How do you not go crazy?” Moon’s question was Rick’s next one. They exchanged a worried glance.
“No lo se.” Diego paused. “I think it’s more a question of time. How long can you last before you finally go loco?” He shook his head and twirled his fingers around his temples to illustrate his point. “Some might be able to outlive the onset of madness. Maybe. I don’t know, this whole space travel shit is pretty fresh you know. Ask me again in a hundred years once we have more long term data.”
“Space madness is different though!” Rick pleaded. He wanted to understand.
“It’s not a real thing.” Brock’s comment was reassuring but without substance.
“It is actually,” Diego begged to differ. “And if you’ve got space madness, you’re not gonna have a good time.” Thanks, Diego, I'll sleep better now.
Space Shenanigans Page 16
