15.

THE COUNCIL OF COX

THE GRAVITY SWITCH IN the sacred bedroom, chamber for the sawing of captain’s logs, went as untouched as ever this evening. It hadn’t been flicked to the off position since the Jefferson’s inaugural voyage. Although far from newlyweds at the time, Tim and Kim had felt a freedom upon blasting off that was beyond any they had experienced before. As was natural for a couple much in love with a palace all to themselves, drinking fancy wines and making blanket forts would inevitably give way as the night wore on to activities of a more lascivious nature. They flung their clothes in all manner of directions and tied their manes back shortly before their fingers and subsequently bodies entwined.

And it was when their weight hit the bed that the sudden stroke of genius occured. Kim rarely provided the suggestion of rendering a room a place of buoyance, but the one time she did, their minds raced with the possibilities that stemmed from the removal of such a hindrance. With blood rushing away from the brain, nary a thought was spared in consideration as Tim leapt from the bed and flipped the switch. Then, as if forgetting what he had just done, he sprung back towards his beloved, only to careen into the ceiling instead. Kim leapt to his aid. This led to a helpless entanglement of sheets and errant underwear bouncing about in passionate frustration.

After some careful manipulations, the jumble found itself resolved, and blankets, along with airborne nightstands and partially finished glasses of champagne, were tossed aside; messes could be always be cleaned up later. Yet, even when freed from obstacles, they found their own bodies to be difficult to control. The slightest bump or nudge would propel the other in the opposite direction, serving to separate the two well before getting to approach thrusting alignment. With no kinky tether apparatus available, the futility of it all became steadily more apparent. The mood died quickly amid the grunts of exertion with every new awkward positioning, as well as the glistening globules of sweat that inflated and flew off their bodies like bubbles. Any remaining arousal was further murdered by the lack of gravity, causing the requisite blood to rise into their heads and chests instead of collecting in the right place to fuel the machines. After a few quick minutes, the switch was flipped back, and they collapsed into bed spent and unsatisfied.

In short, sex in space sucks.

On this particular evening after their escape, though, the notion was about as far from their minds as it could be. It was never beyond reach, mind you, but was an unlikely course of action in the face of current circumstances. When they shuffled into the room with drooping shoulders, it required all their efforts to avoid collapsing into bed and delaying conversation for another time. It occurred to the captain that at no point did he give the pilot orders to vacate the scene. However, something in Whisper’s words inspired confidence that it would happen nonetheless.

Neither had broached the topic by the time they had settled into their respective seated positions. Kim slumped against the wall, one leg outstretched, while her husband sat at the foot of their bed with his hands situated stiffly on either side like he was meeting the father of his prom date. Their frank discussion had yet to commence and already he appeared prepared to submit.

“All I wanna know is why, Tim,” the other said. Her tone was neither sceptical nor accusatory so as to keep the door for new ideas open. “There’s obviously a reason you’re doing something so unlike you, so c’mon. Let’s hear it.”

At that, his posture softened. While he had already sufficiently mulled over the situation in his head and found the words, they came easier knowing there was no impending cross-examination to be stared down during the delivery.

“This is going to sound kind of crazy,” he breathed in hushed tones. “But we’re involved in something way bigger than I thought.”

“Love, there’s British secret agents involved. This is obviously something a little beyond what we’re used to.”

“See, that’s what I thought too!” He hopped off the bed and kneeled on the floor next to her. “But when they talked to me in my cell, I realized they aren’t the good guys either. They’re as bad as Mister Nobody. Maybe even worse! I figured it all out during my interrogation. I don’t think they really even care about Mister Nobody that much, because they mostly talked about this space jam stuff. The Percy guy didn’t say it directly . . . but do you know what I think he wants to do with it?!”

“Keep it for himself to use as a weapon?” Kim replied with all the surprise of a sarcastic seer.

“I thi—wait, yeah. Exactly. How did you know?!”

The smile painted on her lips was one part endearment and one part condolence. Neither it nor the patronizing pinch she gave his cheek alleviated any confusion.

“Oh, honey . . . I hate to sound like Donald, but they’re a government organization with little to no supervision. What else would you think they’d want it for? To put in a museum? What are they, Indiana Jones?”

“But why! Why does everybody just want to destroy stuff and hurt people?!”

“Everybody doesn’t want to destroy stuff and hurt people! But when you have an object that’s sole purpose is destroying stuff and hurting people, then those are the type of people it’s going to attract.”

“Exactly!” The captain declared, driving the point home with an emphatic point on the second syllable. With his other hand, he tossed the bottle at her, causing a mild arrhythmia as she flailed desperately to catch it. A few moments were required for her hands and heart to settle. During this, Cox continued.

“This is why we gotta find a way to destroy it first. It’s the only way to be safe.”

“Did you really plan for the conversation to go like this?” Kim broke off the main topic. “If so, well played.”

“Thanks! I had to improvise a little when you guessed what they wanted it for, but it did help speed things up.”

With a small squeak of exertion, she hopped to her feet, giving him a quick peck on the cheek on her way up. The look she gave was vaguely reminiscent of the one back on the station when she thought he had maimed somebody. It didn’t have the same level of admiration, but there was certainly evidence of something tickling her.

“You didn’t need to try and sneak your point in like that, though,” she amended. “I did say I had faith in your reasoning. Honestly, I’m just really proud of you for not letting your hopes for the best in everyone get in the way of seeing these guys for what they are. I mean, Christ, if you say they’re bad, then I totally believe it. I figured I’d hear the pope talk shit about someone before you.”

“Oh my god, you’re right,” the captain said, sitting back down on the bed. “I mean, I still really want to see the best in them . . . But I just can’t.”

He looked up at his wife.

“You don’t think they’re ruining me, do you?”

His expression of genuine fear was all that kept her from blowing a raspberry right in his face. In all these years, she’d never been able to explain the charm of his toddler-esque purity; even now, as it approached critical mass. The irony of being so pure he underwent an existential crisis at the thought of losing it was completely missing him. To call it silly was an understatement. With so little purity left of her own, maybe it was just nice to have somebody with plenty to spare. She took a seat next to him, grabbed his arm, and draped it over her shoulder. After a brief pause to deliberate, she answered.

“You know, an actual philosopher once said ‘Love your enemy, but never sell your sword.’ I don’t usually remember stuff like that because most of them are just coming up with different ways to say ‘Don’t be a dick.’ But I kinda liked that one, because even though it tells you not to be a dick, it doesn’t pretend that not being a dick will make other people stop being dicks.”

“Wow. You really used the word ‘dick’ a lot there.”

“I don’t have writers, alright? I picked a noun and stuck with it. The point is: trying to see the best in somebody doesn’t mean trusting them. You always give everybody a chance, even when you really shouldn’t. These guys blew it; so what else are you supposed to do? Just give ’em another one?”

Cox chuckled as he pulled her closer with his arm.

“That’s literally what I wish I could do! Second chances are a thing, y’know.”

“Exactly.”

Kim got off the bed and stood before it so she could return the same gesture he gave her minutes before. She even picked the bottle back up and went to chuck it back at him before remembering the contents, deciding better, and setting it back down.

“The thought doesn’t always count for everything, but it’s good enough here. How you can possibly want to try and like those assholes in spite of all this is beyond me. The fact you do, though, should be all the proof you need that they haven’t ruined you in the slightest.”

The words, while served up quickly, were savoured in silence. With the amount of times the captain opened and closed his mouth in return, he may well have actually been trying to chew on them. After what appeared to be sufficient mastication, he raised his brow and settled on the classic yielding nod and shrug combo.

“Well played.”

“Thanks. I had a bit of inspiration.”

“What were we talking about before this?”

“Something about disposing of the weapon of mass destruction you found in our wine shelf. Do we even know for sure that’s what it is?”

“I don’t know why they’d lie . . . Well, I guess I kinda do, but I don’t think that’s the one they’d tell me. You can open it up and test if you want.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Alrighty.”

They sat in a comfortable quietude that could only have resulted from the years of boring lulls every couple had to go through in order to wring out the awkwardness. The ability to find contentment in each other’s company was an essential part of surviving long space journeys together, and in this particular circumstance, refraining from speaking was made doubly easy by the apathy towards egging the conversation along. Both knew that one of them was going to have to come up with a suggestion. Neither wished to assume that responsibility. The day had been long and their bed was so tempting and the other person was totally smartish; so surely they could come up with something.

As the still-seated one, Tim flopped down on it first. In an effect similar to taking the first donut from the box, it removed any reluctance Kim may have been having and spurred her to dive in shortly afterward. The lovely plush mattress enveloped the two of them like a huge, steaming plate of mashed potatoes. Fervid moans escaped from both as they did their best impressions of dogs jumping into a mud pit. Eventually, their batteries slowly died and their movements reflected this diminished energy. They both lay face down, limbs splayed as if in chalk outlines.

KIM WOKE FIRST, STRETCHING her arms and humming, face down, into the covers. Tim grunted back. Without looking, she reached over with her foot and nudged what she thought was his shoulder, prompting him to raise his head and ask why she just kicked him in the face. Such protestations were cancelled by the sight of an open door and the trio of kids staring inside, seemingly too uncomfortable to say what they came to say.

“Oh hey, guys!” He chirped, causing Kim to sit bolt upright. “What’s up?”

They looked at each other, eyes lingering until Donald was the first to look back.

“Did you guys seriously go to bed without even telling us where to go?”

Cox slithered from the bed to his hands and knees in the least dignified way possible. A few shimmies back and forth cracked his back and injected a little more liveliness into him. Not enough to forego sleep, mind you, but, ideally, enough to survive this conversation.

“No, no, Donny, buddy. We may have been in bed, but we weren’t sleeping. Don’t worry.”

“Ew.” he replied, with a wrinkled nose.

“Where is it you want us to go?” Whisper asked from behind the hand that shielded her eyes. “’Cause we’re kinda in the middle of flying to nowhere right now.”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Kim’s voice echoed, its owner appearing to have made her way to the bathroom. “Don’t suppose any of you guys know where to go to destroy alien goo?”

“We’re destroying it now!?” Donald blurted. “Haven’t we pissed enough people off already?”

The first mate’s head poked out from the doorway.

“Know what also really pisses people off, Donald? Dying.” Her disappearance was as quick as her emergence, leaving the man posed in an uncomfortable stance as he tried to process her words. It was lucky she didn’t feel the need to stick around for a response, since he didn’t appear to have one.

“Uh . . .” He scratched at his head. “Was that a threat, or was she making some kind of point . . . ?”

“No, no, buddy,” the captain, who had retrieved the bottle and was absentmindedly jingling it like the bell of a Salvation Army Santa, said as he snapped back into the conversation. “Kim and I are just pretty sure if the agents get their hands on this, then their government might use it to terrorize people.”

“Of course they’re going to use it to terrorize people! That’s all they ever do! What did you think they were going to do with it? Donate it to a museum? What are they, Indiana Jones?“

“I already made that joke,” Kim called.

“Fine! Uh . . . Then what did you think they were going to do with it? Use it for . . . uh, waste disposal? What are they, garbage . . . men?”

“Who’s Indiana Jones . . . ?” Whisper murmured.

“Donny, if you knew they were going to use it to hurt people, then why are you okay with giving it back to them?!” Cox asked.

“Because they’re going to hurt us if we don’t!”

A hush fell over the group. The notion, while entirely predictable and not incorrect, conjured a light of sociopathy over the crew member when it was spoken aloud. Donald seemed to realize the weight of his words the moment they left his lips, but he stood with an uncharacteristic straightness and met every wavering gaze cast upon him. He swallowed hard. Debating with people was so much harder without a screen to hide behind.

“Great, now you all think I’m a monster,” he continued, dropping his hands. “Like it’s not completely normal to value your own life above the lives of random people you don’t know. Governments have always done this stuff, and they’re gonna keep doing it, whether or not they get this thing. The only difference is whether or not they’re going to pay attention to us, too.”

As captain, Cox knew it fell on him to take up the mantle of making a case for morality. There was always the option to simply pull rank and order him to obey or get dropped off at the nearest space diner. However, he was literally up against a guy defending the notion of helping a government in the commission of war crimes. The moral high ground he had here was so vast that pretty much any response would win, even if delivered while stomping on a baby otter.

“In my opinion, the British are evil!”

“ . . . What?! That’s not even what we’re fighting about!”

“Oh. Well, okay. So we agree they’re evil then?”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re evil! It’s not our job to deal with them.”

“We’re not doing it because I think it’s our job! Donny, buddy, we’re doing it because we’re in a position where we can. If they had the space jam already, then I wouldn’t be suggesting breaking into their ship and risking our lives to steal it.”

“That definitely sounds like something you’d do.”

“Pshhh, no way! If that were the case, then I would just report them to the proper authorities.”

“Then why don’t we do that now!?”

“Because I don’t know who the proper authorities are.”

“Then how would you—”

“The point is, this isn’t as simple as picking our lives over the lives of others. Nobody else knows about this but us! If we turn our backs on millions of innocent people who have no fighting chance just because we aren’t brave enough to take advantage of the one we got then, well, we may as well be villains ourselves. Because we at least have a chance. And if we try, then even if we fail, we can spend our remaining days, however many or few there may be, knowing that we took a stand against a force way bigger than ourselves because it was the right thing to do! And that knowledge can’t be taken away from us with any amount of beatings or sleep deprivation or waterboarding or lobotomizing.”

He finished his speech with legs wide and arms akimbo, picking a spot on the ceiling to triumphantly stare at. It was a slight buzzkill to realize the uplifting trumpet music he thought he was hearing had only taken place in his head, but the weight of the words persisted nonetheless. After all the many adventures aboard the Jefferson, he finally got the opportunity to give a passionate address to rally the troops. Looked like the day wasn’t a total loss after all.

“So who’s with me?!” He polled the group with an outstretched hand.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Willy offered a hand, eager to be a team player. He slapped his hand on top of the Captain’s and flashed a delightful, doughy smile. It was unclear if he fully grasped what he had signed up for, but his support was welcome all the same.

Perhaps it was because she had fallen into the precarious position of swing vote and didn’t wish to be left for last, or maybe the rousing pep talk had indeed cracked her cockles, but a few moments later, Whisper offered a slow-moving hand that was gently placed upon the digital entanglement. From there, all attention fell on Donald. Mouth fallen open in surprise, he assessed each face one by one.

“No,” he snarled with disgust at the notion his mind might have changed. “I’m not buying it, ’cause you’re not that great at speeches, and they don’t work on me anyway. There’s a ‘chance’ I could win the lottery too. Or play in the NBA. Or even that one of my stupid emails is from an actual Nigerian prince. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen, and definitely doesn’t mean I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

“But we’re the good guys! The good guys are supposed to stand up to the bad guys. How would you feel if we came back and found—”

“Can I cut in?” Kim emerged from the bathroom, having done some sort of cosmetic touch-up that was completely unnoticeable to any of the males. “Nothing you’re saying is wrong, Tim, but you’re arguing like you’re trying to convince a group. For Donald, you need to appeal to something more basic. Besides basic human decency, that is. Watch.”

She marched towards him with a slight swagger; just enough to pepper her assertiveness with confidence. Donald leaned away unconsciously. His eyes did not shy away from her, but the slight downturn of his mouth hinted at a concealed fear of getting slugged. Yet no physical harm did come. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back and regarded him with a cheeky smirk, like someone who had an ace cheat code on their poker app.

“Don’t get me wrong, Donald, I agreed with you at first. But what do you think will happen if we just hand it back to them? That they’ll give us a fond ‘cheerio’ and forget all about it? We’re on their list now. If we hand this thing over, then we’re just a loose end privy to a government secret that they may not want anyone to know about. A loose end that regularly goes on voyages where we’re all alone and not in contact with anybody. You think a ship with agents on it showing up is bad? You obviously don’t know what it’s like to see a space drone headed your way.”

Beads of perspiration coalesced on Donald’s forehead. The urge to compare his opponent to Hitler was strong. All it took was a moment’s mulling to find every hole in such a response. The worst part of all was the bitter taste he had towards the very position he had taken. He had stated on many occasions his preference to die before helping out “the man,” and it was only a matter of time until someone remembered one of these times and used it to bolster their argument. Between that and Kim’s evisceration, it was time to shift the spotlight and hope nobody noticed him abandoning his case.

“How will destroying it fix any of that?” He barked, quickly wiping his forehead.

“Fix any of that?!” Repeated a caught-off-guard Kim. “We don’t even know how to destroy it yet. I was just saying that, either way, we’re in the precarious position you described. So may as well be dicks to them on the way out.”

“Honey, seriously, there are other words . . .”

“Insubordinate troublemaking rebels. Whatever. So how do we get rid of this stuff?”

“Dude!” Willy reminded everyone of his presence. “Let’s shoot it into the sun!”

Kim blinked at him, as if seeing him for the very first time.

“That’s . . . that’s actually not the worst suggestion.”

“Except we don’t have anything to shoot it out of,” said Cox. “And it would take a way too long to get there; somebody could snag it. We need to take it somewhere that it can be destroyed. I think that Percy guy said something about it being susceptible to acids; does anybody know where we can get our hands on a bunch of acid?”

The ship’s communicator pursed his lips.

“Well, I remember when I was at SIT they had a pretty well-known department of chemistry.”

“Donald, I know you didn’t go to SIT. You can stop lying about it.”

“What the hell!? I absolutely did! How would you even know?”

“Whoa there, guys! It doesn’t matter if he went or not; I bet a university is somewhere we could find lots of acid!”

“Well then, why don’t we go to yours, Tim? Least I know for sure that you’re an alum.”

“Mine?! My school doesn’t have anything. They just uploaded knowledge directly into your brain each day.”

Rolling of eyes and grumbles of contempt echoed from around him. Perhaps worse was how little surprise anyone seemed to have. To be regarded as spoiled, while unbecoming, was a shruggable stigma, as comfort could be found in the knowledge it was not one’s own fault. But lazy? That was an affliction known to affect anyone, regardless of walk of life. There was no explanation for laziness that didn’t involve a failure from within.

“Just because it was easy doesn’t mean I couldn’t have done it if it was hard!” He protested the thoughts he assumed them to be having.

“How is it possible that you are so stupid, then!?” Whisper demanded. Immediately afterward, she raised her hands to backpedal. “I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t even . . . You could literally get any info just put into your brain and you still—UGH!”

She stormed off down the hall opposite from the bridge, forcing Cox to call his rebuttal after her.

“Well, I mean . . . it’s been a while! It fades over time. I haven’t gone back for any booster knowledge shots in a while.”

Donald threw his arms up then let them fall back to his sides with a mighty slap.

“It’s easy knowledge! You don’t even have to work for it. Of course you wouldn’t go back. Why would you want that, right?!”

“Alright, don’t you get carried away, too.” Kim snapped. “He can’t go back because his parents cut him off when he married me. That’s all I’m saying about that, so drop it.”

Over the course of the bickering, the group had been migrating about their mobile home. The heated conversation had taken a sturdy grasp on all attention during the drifting past Donald’s bedroom, the former location of Whisper’s bedroom, the hallway full of strewn-about Christmas decorations that used to be in the closet where Willy had made his home, as well as the rarely used passage leading down to engineering, where Whatshername may or may not still be at this point. As was always the case, they washed up on the bridge right in time with Kim’s most recent command.

To see his beloved work station was all the encouragement Cox needed to redouble his satisfaction with life. It may have consisted of nothing but a chair and . . . well, nothing but a chair, but a former classmate also got the same degree, and he went on to launch an unsuccessful kickstarter trying to fund a pimping career. So, by comparison, being the captain of a ship, regardless of purpose or prestige, was pretty alright! No amount of that silly e-learning would have made him any better at captain-ing anyway. That was all him; for better or for worse.

Yet as he took his seat, mulling the magnitude of his situation, something from his school days did indeed bubble up from the recesses of his mind. It was not a formula, nor was it a theory, a study, or a recipe for pot brownies. In fact, it was something he would continue to have, even if his mind had sloughed away every last tidbit of information shoved inside it, like a game of Perfection. It was the most important thing that anyone could take away from college, and it was the one thing he had never needed any guidance in obtaining: a friend.

“Hey, Donny, do we still have that email from Pia to come see her lab?”