8.

IN FOR A PENNY,
IN FOR A POUNDING

OFTEN TIMES DURING MOMENTS wherein one “lays down the law,” so to speak, they can feel the impact in their chests. Perhaps some sort of sound effect will play in their heads, or dramatic music. At very least, they would frequently get some audio or visual feedback to let them know their authority has been experienced.

But in Cox’s case, he just kind of stood there grimacing at a computer terminal. There were no gasps or “Oh no he didn’t”-s, no chairs had been thrown or tables flipped. In fact, having done his dramatic executive decision alone in a room resulted in one of the most anticlimactic experiences he had ever had. The only confirmation that anything of note had even occurred came in the form of a new button underneath all the others on the computer screen.

“You suck for taking this away from me. I wanted to watch your wife paste that motherfucker.”

Anticlimactic or not, his actions were at least effective. The SS blip stopped short at the threshold between hallway and room and lingered there for what was probably about ten seconds, but they were long seconds. Like microwave-countdown seconds. All the while it was a tense quiet as he stared at the screen, unsure what to do next. He thought he had bought himself some time to deliberate, but that ran out right around the time the terminal he was at began jingling away with the sounds of an incoming call. He hadn’t considered the fact he wasn’t the only one who could track people on the ship. He also couldn’t help but wonder what the offensive symbol on his blip was, since he’d forgotten to check. But checking was going to have to wait until the current storm had been weathered.

“Hah. Looks like somebody might still be getting murdered after all.”

“Whoever programmed you is a bad person! Just shhh.”

He reached over and hit the little telephone icon, minimizing the ship map and bringing up the video feed.

“Batcave,” he grinned into the receiver.

“Tim, something is going on and I don’t like it. The door to Whisper’s room won’t open, and the terminal is ignoring my commands.”

“Whaaat?!” The captain hammed. “That’s awful. You, uh, you don’t think that monster hacked our system and took control or something, do you?”

“Hacked . . . ? Did you really just say—” She blinked several times and then her expression soured considerably. “Tim! What did you do?!”

“He locked me in here.” A bored, gravelly voice intruded. A video feed of Mister Nobody broadcasting from Whisper’s room barged its way into a spot on both their terminals.

“Not to intrude on your failing marriage or anything,” he added.

For what is probably a number past too many times in one space day, Kim sighed. But it wasn’t one of the usual breaths of exasperation. This one seemed to carry a tune more along the lines of reluctant acceptance. Not to be confused with defeat; perish the thought. It was more to signify a change in tactics. A simple swap of stratagem from psychotic to psychopathic.

“I’m not gonna fight with you anymore, Tim,” she informed him in even tones. “But this stops now. I am going to park my ass right here outside this door and I am going to sit and wait. Either it will open eventually and I will end this, or I will stand by until there’s nothing left of him besides dust and the hard candy in his pocket. The choice is yours.”

She pressed her back against the wall and slid down into a sitting position. After leaning her blaster against the wall for easy access, she crossed her legs and settled in.

THEY STAYED THAT WAY for most of the rest of the trip back to Earth. Given the high tension of the situation, one would have thought the atmosphere of the ship would change accordingly. But in practice things swiftly returned to almost normal, which was almost more worrisome. Donald and Willy returned to the bridge, the former returning to his stations while the latter resigned himself to snoozing on the couch. The only other noticeable change was the palpable awkwardness whenever they needed to use the hallway, from which Kim would not budge. A curt nod was the only greeting she would offer any of them, even when her faithful husband brought her meals. It was not the first time Cox had seen her achieve this level of drive and focus, and by this point, he knew better than to try and snap her out. In fact, in the couple days that they spent like this, he’s not even sure if she slept.

Banks maintained a similar level of composure, holding up remarkably well in lieu of virtually any social interaction whatsoever. The working water dispensers in every room, coupled with Whisper’s apparently private stash of snacks, seemed apt to satiate him for the bulk of the journey. Cool-headed as he was, a man of his experience had to realize the increasing direness of his situation. Perhaps that knowledge was what eventually prompted him to speak.

“I get paid by the hour, lady,” the grumbly voice buzzed through the feed. “You leave me holed up in a room with a big comfy bed, I’ll just sleep until I can retire.”

Kim smirked up at his depiction.

“Sounds like someone’s getting a little lonely. Tough luck for you, though. You’re either dying in there or dying out here. I’m fine to oblige you on either one.”

“If I am going to die in here, then I promise you I am going to piss and shit on absolutely everything before I do.”

“Anything that comes out of you is going back inside you!”

“Well, you better get some rubber gloves then, because I’m feeling incontinent.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Cox’s voice jumped into their conversation over the intercom from the safety of his trusty captain’s chair. “Y’know, it’d be way easier for everybody if you guys just did none of that.”

“Open the door, Tim! Or else grandpa is going to smear his pruney poo all over Whisper’s stuff.”

“Are you gonna take that from her? A real space captain doesn’t get ordered around by some pushy broad.”

Cox squinted at the camera and shook his head side to side.

“You know, I really don’t want to open the door. But I also don’t want to not open the door now because I don’t want to look like I’m listening to you.”

“Open the door!” Kim repeated with more urgency. She had returned to her feet and her chest heaved alongside her angry breathing. “He knows he’s cornered and he’s trying to turn us against one another. Just let me in so we can be done with this!”

“Or you could just leave me here until everybody calms down.” The old man suggested with a contrasting tranquility. “I’m sure the impressive security features of your ship will be more than enough to hold me captive. And an imprisoned old man is no danger to anybody.”

“Can you stop taking the same position as me!? It’s making it a lot harder to defend.”

“Tim, he’s obviously just being sarcastic! He wants you to let him bide his time until he can find a way out and come after us.”

“Tim, your wife is a little too eager to commit murder, and you should be very troubled by that.”

“You know, I am a little bit! . . . Not that you need to know that.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m shooting a hole in this damn door.” In a smooth, practised motion she hefted the blaster into a high ready position and fired off a shot into the tough titanium. A colourful bolt of light collided silently with the door and vanished just as fast as it had appeared, dissipating before the pew had even finished its ew. At first it seemed ineffective, as the door stood just as firm as it would have if it had been hit by a flashlight. However, her gusto didn’t waver. With a rabid rapidity she fired off shot after shot like a kid at a state fair dying to win a teddy bear. Except most of those kids probably weren’t planning to shoot their prizes in the face.

But whether it was out of confidence, frustration, or “what else am I gonna do”-ness, she persisted in spite of the initial futility. Soon, after receiving enough laser coaxing, the door began to glow with a dull redness. It was beginning to appear as though Kim’s plan may actually have some clout. Even Mister Nobody was starting to get skittish.

“Kim, stop!” The captain pleaded. “This isn’t what you want!”

She didn’t respond, possibly because she knew she was more qualified to make that decision than he was.

“Kim, as your captain I order—ah jeez, even I know that sounds dumb. Just please stop!”

The door’s red spot now glowed bright like a glorious autumn sunset poking out over the mountains and calming the landscape. Or, at least, it did to people who knew what that looked like. A good way to tell whether or not someone appreciated the aforementioned metaphorical beauty was whether they reacted by stopping to marvel at it, or if they spun their blaster rifle around and reared back to pound the stuffing out of it with the gun butt.

“Heeeeeeere’s Johnny!” The first mate screamed as she swung to break through.

The weapon clanged against the metal and bounced off. It left a slight dent but otherwise completely ruined the moment of triumph she was trying to set up. She let loose a shrill grunt of exertion then hauled off and slammed into the door again, producing a similar result.

“ . . . Okay, fine, I jumped the gun a little bit. Just give me a second to heat it up some more and then you’re dead!”

She opened fire the spot yet again. Mister Nobody had left his spot on the bed and was tearing the room apart while Cox observed the carnage from his bridge terminal. This entire time he did have one reluctant option jabbering away in the back of his mind, vying for attention in much the same way the demented AI program did. And while his backup idea was slightly more appealing than a Machiavellian torture killing, it was still an undesirable notion. But he had already choked once and nearly blown his opportunity to act at all. So, objectionable as the notion was, it was going to have to do!

“Computer!” He said out loud, presumably addressing the computer. “I, uh . . . Heretofore . . . Thereby, mandate . . . The, protocol to, um, initiate the, commencement, of, the, launching of, the, port aft lifeboat.”

He gestured with incoherent flourishes all throughout his captainly command, thinking maybe it would add some je ne sais quoi to the moment. It wasn’t until after he stopped moving that a new text response popped up.

“ . . . What?”

“Launch the escape pod. Please?” Cox reiterated. “I don’t know what number it is, just whatever one Miss Wang lives in.”

And just like that, the computer made it so. A secondary airlock door slid into place in front of the one Kim was currently going to town on, negating all her work toward passionate vengeance. She could only listen helplessly as a series of whirs and clanks scored the scene of the ship locking itself down and discharging the room like a popped pimple.

After the initial ejection, the lifecraft drifted away with a gentle serenity rather unfitted to the gravity of the situation it had been caught up in. Cox watched the scene reconstruction from his terminal. Before long the little metal bubble was fading away into the vastness of space and the hijacker troubles fading away along with it. It was an ending with the perfect amount of violence. However, he had a feeling that at least a couple members of his crew weren’t going to regard this outcome as favourably. In fact, the more he thought about how he shotblocked his wife and spaced all Miss Wang’s belongings, the more he began to think he might have been better off joining Mister Nobody on the escape pod. There was at least one crew member who approved, though.

“Trapping him all alone to slowly die of starvation. Nice.”

“Is there a way I can ask you to uninstall yourself without totally messing up the rest of the ship’s computer?”

“Nope.”

IF THE JEFFERSON WERE an ocean, then the bridge would be the beach. No matter where those within it floated around to, they always washed back up in the foyer-like area sooner or later. With that knowledge in mind, Cox elected to kick back in his chair and just wait for the troops to filter in. After all, if he were the type to try and hide, then he’d also just end up back on the beach eventually, like that dead body you forgot to tie a bunch of rocks to.

A faint metallic pitter-pat from within the walls grabbed his attention. As far as the captain had been informed, space termites were not a thing; so the most likely explanation was that Whisper was finally about to escape her air-circulating cocoon. The metal grate clanged open and fell from the wall. The pilot emerged with about as much dignity as one would have expected. Dainty hands patted around for something to grasp. Then came her head, face obscured with sweaty, matted black hair like that little girl from The Ring. She spent a worrying amount of time on the floor, panting from exhaustion, before clawing at the wall to help the rise to her feet.. Even when she was upright again, there was still a slight hunch to her back that would need worked out, but her expletive-laden soliloquy about how hungry she was seemed to convey her prime priority.

Donald and Willy were the next to walk in. Unlike the first, they looked no more dishevelled than normal, save for some dried tears on the latter’s cheeks.

“ . . . Nah, dude, the right one’s fine. It’s the left one I’m worried about. I still can’t find it. I think it mighta got knocked way up in—”

Their chat ended abruptly when they saw Whisper emerge from the kitchen with an atrophy-induced limp. A brief wideeyed inspection of their coworker, still looking fresh out of the dryer as she scowled back at them while crunching on a mouthful of meal capsules, was enough to gauge her mood. She didn’t say a word. Even after making eye contact with Cox, she just marched to her terminal and sat down. The captain hoped she would offer something to get the ball rolling, but the only sound she offered came from blowing hair out of her face.

“Alright look, everybody,” he addressed the group as he stood up. “I know this might seem like it coulda gone better. But I think it’s important to remember that everything could always go better.”

“We almost died,” Donald snapped.

“Why the hell are you mad!?” Whisper bit back. She paused to try and cough away some of the hoarseness. “You’re only one that didn’t even get hurt!”

“That’s not true at all! I got punched in the face.”

“And don’t you guys feel pride in knowing you defended your ship?!” Cox polled the room. “Your home? Your friends? Your family, even.”

“No,” they all responded.

“I feel like you guys answered that a little too quickly to really think about it.”

“Now that you mention it, Whisper,” Donald observed. “I’m pretty sure he’s the only one who didn’t get hurt.”

“Whoa now, guys, we’re getting a little off-track here. We’re supposed to be focusing on the positives.” The captain tried to wrangle everyone back in line. “And you just reminded me of the three qualities every successful adventure has: nobody gets hurt, everybody learns something, and a positive difference is made in the end!”

He stopped to ponder the statement for a moment.

“ . . . And as the great philosopher Meat Loaf always used to say: ‘two outta three ain’t bad!’”

The pilot, who sat with her head slumped backwards almost ninety degrees and eyes closed, coughed again, but this one sounded more like a response.

“Did you just say ‘meatloaf?!’” She said afterward, apparently needing to engage more than needing to sleep.

“Yeah! Do you like him!?”

“Ew, no, meatloaf is gross.”

“But you have heard of him!”

“No. Because he doesn’t exist, because you made him up, because you couldn’t even come up with a made-up name this time to legitimize your dumb quotes, so instead you just listed a random food item, because you probably thought I wasn’t even listening.”

She opened her eyes and raised her head.

“And I wasn’t,” she added before laying back again. “’Cause I was busy. Thinking. About dogs. ’Cause people suck.”

“Hey, not all people suck! There’s lots that don’t. Like Meat Loaf. Who was a person.”

“’Til Hannibal ate him?” Donald asked.

“Hey, look at you two, collaborating in attempt to belittle me! That’s the type of teamwork that makes this team work. Keep it going—what else ya got?!”

His cheesy exuberance never really was a hit with the kids even at the best of times. Yet it somehow managed to make the room even more subdued with this iteration. Perhaps it was the contrast between him and everyone else, or perhaps it was just inappropriate to even try right now. However, even devoid of enthusiasm, they at least continued to man their posts and keep things underway. Whisper seemed to find some contentment in her work. As she tapped at her keys and tapped at the side of her face, it even became difficult to tell she was harbouring a seething teenaged hatred for everyone in her immediate vicinity.

It was a short while later that they were joined by the final member of the usual fellowship. Even in spite of the already-present silence, a hush still managed to fall over the room as she stepped across the threshold. Kim blinked back at the faces that all stared at her.

“Hello.”

“Heyyyyyy . . Her husband greeted back in a loud whisper that quickly trailed away. He paused for a moment. “Uh, guys, you might want to maybe go back to your rooo—errrr—somewhere else on the ship that’s even more fun than lame old bedrooms.”

Whisper “hmph”-ed at the statement, but rolled out of her chair nonetheless. She likely relished an excuse to get away. Donald, however, didn’t move.

“Are you about to tell us not to leave?” He asked Kim. “’Cause that seems like the type of thing you guys would argue about at this point and I don’t want to go back and forth between standing and sitting while you figure it out.”

“C’mon, Donny, don’t antagonize her.”

“I actually would prefer they stayed, if that’s alright.” Kim dissented in placid tones. Her demeanour, while more subdued, wasn’t that of someone who had come hat in hand. But she hadn’t come gun in hand, either, so whatever metaphorical item she was metaphorically clutching here was probably preferable.

“Called it,” Donald bragged, slumping further into his seat with a smug smile as he checked to see who was looking at him. “Now she’s probably going to make us pick sides.” He turned back to Kim. “Don’t even bother asking me, I’ll take you over him any day.”

“Shut up, Donald,” the first mate grumbled without looking at him. She shook her head. “Well, I’m off to a flying start. Okay, before I say anything I want to clarify that none of this detracts from any of the stuff I said to you earlier, Tim. But that being said, I just want to acknowledge that I lost my head back there and I’m sorry. I started doing exactly what I was getting mad at you for.”

Everyone continued to look at her. With no crickets around to chirp, they instead listened to the scraping noise of Willy scratching his beard.

“And that’s the end of my speech,” she added. “No applause necessary.”

Cox, who had been on the cusp of starting a slow clap until the last bit, quickly brushed his hands against his shirt and pants before placing them on his hips.

“Yeah!” He cheered, nodding around the room. “Well, alright! That’s what I’m talking about! Learning lessons and growing as space people. We’re all going to feel some feelings sometimes like we have today, but the important part is being able to express them in a healthy way like this.”

Unlike his wife, the intrepid Captain Cox felt no awkwardness or embarrassment whatsoever when his crew slowly rotated their heads in unison to peer upon him with bewildered eyes.

“Anybody else have any feelings they wanted to share? Maybe some reflections or musings orrrrrr concepts for consideration? You can take a moment to step out if you want some time to come up with a speech like Kim here.”

“What? I wasn’t coming up with a speech, I was disarming all the traps I set.”

“Well, yeah, alright then! That too! If anybody has any deadly traps to disarm or speeches to make, you’re welcome to take a couple minutes.”

By this time Whisper had finally made it to the door. Then subsequently through the door, taking no pauses for farewells or backward glances. Cox watched her go, grinning all the while. After she disappeared, he turned back to the group, still smiling, albeit weakly.

“I feel like she’s not coming back.”

“Dude, we almost just got hijacked,” Willy observed, as if just realizing it. “Don’t you guys think we should, I dunno, call somebody or something?”

“NO!” Tim, Kim, and Donald all blurted out in unison, startling not only Willy but also each other.

“Okay . . .” The burly security guard murmured in defeat.

After a couple moments of staring at his two superiors, Donald shook his head, apparently deciding against whatever he was considering asking. Maybe he didn’t want to know, or maybe lecturing the sheeple was more important.

“The best thing we can do is just forget any of this happened,” he informed Willy in a tone that would not welcome dissention. “Whoever that guy is, he’s definitely on lists! If we tell anybody that we ran into him, then we’re gonna end up on those lists, too, as known associates. Next thing you know, we’re gonna be getting pulled over every week by guys wearing spacesuit suits and sunglasses underneath their helmets. And yeah they’ll probably go through the motions and check our logbooks and stuff, but that’s how it starts! Soon as we commit one minor infraction then BAM! We’re gonna be people of suspicion held indefinitely and being tortured for information we don’t have and probably doesn’t exist. But they’ll do it anyway, ‘cause they like doing it!”

He froze in position. He stood with his pointing finger trembling from the passion in his words and his face fixed in a blank expression. Either he was undergoing a monumental brain fart or he felt a wave of self-consciousness from the way everyone now stared at him. He cleared his throat with a loud “ahem” that vibrated his cheeks.

“Wait, what traps were you disarming?” He shifted the focus onto Kim. “I was right next to the video feed; you didn’t move the entire time you were waiting outside Whisper’s room.”

She shrugged, eyebrows raised in an innocent pout.

“I set them earlier,” she explained. “Before all this stuff happened.”

Just like when she came in, all eyes returned to her in silent scrutiny. Nobody in the room seemed to have the social wherewithal to simply ask for elaboration. Thankfully, staring at someone until they became uncomfortable enough to keep talking had been fairly effective thus far.

“Look, I may or may not have been sorta expecting Willy to try and kill us at some point,” Kim dragged the words out of herself. “And I know what you’re thinking! But I’m not paranoid. I’m just . . .”

“You’re a little overly suspicious.” Cox offered.

“I’m a little overly suspicious! But that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

Sensing a vulnerability to be alleviated, her husband walked over and wrapped an arm around her.

“You’re not wrong, honey, but I think you might be defending yourself against claims nobody made yet.”

“I need a nap,” she sighed as she broke away and slumped into her chair. “Or a drink. Also, Willy, I haven’t known you for long, and still have no confirmation you’re not evil, but I’m sorry anyway.”

“Thanks!”

“So does this mean we can just stay in transit for a while?” Donald asked as he settled back into his station. “Maybe stay away from things that might kill us or get us thrown in jail?”

It was in that moment that Cox knew the status quo had managed to return. His communications officer had returned to communicating his usual grievances, his pilot had shoved the ship into drive before she left and was off being a recluse somewhere, and his wife was slightly agitated with him but still receptive when he sat down and put an arm around her. She even let herself rest her head against his shoulder. But she wasn’t allowing a smile just yet; he still had to earn that.

As for Willy, he hadn’t been a part of the crew long enough to have a designated “thing,” so for now, whatever he was doing was to be considered normal. At the moment that happened to be staring around the room as if tracking the movements of a non-existent fly.

“Or just say nothing and do whatever you want, like always,” Donald added.

The captain rose from his seat and strode over to a spot behind the seated malcontent. Manicured hands rested upon poorly postured shoulders.

“Donny, Donny . . .” He said in his soothing voice, fighting hard against Donald’s stalwart resistance to being soothed. “You gotta learn to just appreciate the moments sometimes, buddy—”

“I’ve never bought into your touchy-feely crap before. Why do you think it’d be any different right now?”

“Fair enough!”

Cox exhaled into Donny’s curly hair. He massaged at the lad’s tense tissue.

“I guess what I’m really trying to say is . . . The only thing we have to worry about killing us is that homicidal robot living in your computer. Oooh, yeah, you didn’t think I knew about him, did ya?!”

Donald had no visible reaction.

“Wow, you finally found Bundy,” he responded, deadpan as ever. “I started coding him to run my station a few years ago on my first day here. But good thing you found him when you did; I bet he was finally about to strike.”

“Wait, you programmed that thing?!”

“Sure did.”

“Wh—why did you make it so murdery?!”

“‘Cause it’s hilarious?”

“Kim, how many teenagers did you hire?!”

“I’m thirty-five.” Donald answered.

“Y’know what!” The captain declared, putting his hands up. “This ain’t bringin’ me down!”

He strode past the bean bag chair as he talked. With chest high and shoulders back, he announced his indifference.

“No, sir! Life is too good. We already beat one coldblooded murderer, what chance does a no-blooded wannabe murderer have?”

“Babe, I get what you’re trying to say but you literally could not say it in a way that tempts fate more.”

“Oh honey, you’re being crazy! . . . That was rude to say; I’m sorry. Gaslighting is bad. I’m just trying to say there’s absolutely nothing to worry about! That old snafu has been completely resolved and no repercussions could possibly arise from—” He stopped, suddenly hearing the words coming out of his mouth. “Wow, you’re right. I really should tone this down.”

Without another word, he trotted on back to his seat and let Kim lean across the arm rests to place her head against his shoulder once more. The slightest hints of a smile etched themselves onto the corners of her lips.