Screw the Universe (20 page)

“It’s going to fall off if you don’t stop playing with it.”

“That’s bullsh— Oh. Crap.”

“God damn it,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul.

“I fucking told you,” said the computer.

“Hey, wait! This could be good for the mission. Dr. Porn, can you work up a scrotum-ish addition to my fallen little friend here?”

“I’m not...” said the veterinarian, before realizing what the captain was suggesting. “You want prosthetic testicles attached to your detached penis?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Yes, why?” asked the computer. “I’ve run several possible scenarios and can’t come up with any conceivable reasoning for this.”

“After we give this fella some nuts we can clone it and distribute it to the planets on our list. We’ll also have to rig up something that will let it, uh, ‘get the job done.’ Course we’ll eventually reattach one to me, too, and then I’ll do my part in the mission. But this time with double balls!”

“Uh...” said a confused and somewhat horrified Dr. Porniviriyakul.

“If I could be sick I’d be vomiting all over the ship,” said the computer.

“What?” said Captain Tyler. “You guys don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“You want to flood the galaxy with cybernetic dildos.”

“More or less, yeah.”

“And you really don’t see anything wrong with that?” asked the doctor.

“Nope.”

An hour later, startled by a crash and what sounded like metal grinding against metal, a wienerless Captain Tyler limped down the hall and into the cloning lab to see what was causing all of the commotion.

“What happened in here?” he asked.

“Huh?” replied Dr. Porniviriyakul, turning quickly and generally acting kind of skittish.

“What do you have behind your back?”

Dr. Porniviriyakul took a step back.

“Nothing. What’s with all the accusations?”

Captain Tyler looked over at the, until recently, working cloning machine.

“Uh, the clonymagig. Looks a little… not good.”

“Really? I hadn’t—”

“Yeah. There’s a couple space screwdrivers and space wrenches stuck in a few places that don’t really seem like home.”

Dr. Porniviriyakul shuffled forward, trying to keep the space toolbox he was carrying behind his back concealed.

“Hey, look at that!” he said, pointing behind Captain Tyler.

“What? Where?” said the captain, turning to look.

Dr. Porniviriyakul hit Captain Tyler upside the head with the toolbox. There was a loud thud as metal collided with face, then another one as body collided with floor.

“A moron. Lying on the ground.”

He dropped the toolbox onto Captain Tyler’s head.

“Bleeding in a pool of his own blood.”

There was a wet, disgusting sound, like a salmon being slapped against warm vinyl.

“And apparently feces.”

The doctor covered his mouth and nose with his hand and made for the door.

“Jesus, man, what did you eat?”

“Feces,” interjected the computer. “I ordered him shit for breakfast. Didn’t think he would eat it, but there ya go.”

***

“Approaching Planet Lesbia,” said Private Harry Quarters over the ship’s PA. “Estimated time of arrival: Three minutes and fifteen seconds.”

“Perfect timing,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul, filling his lunch tray with tacos, it being Tuesday and all. “Dr. Sodomy has almost finished the facial reconstruction and schlong reattachment.”

“So no cybernetic dildos?” asked Private Yvette Redshirt, standing beside the vet.

“No. If he’s going to want to impregnate the galaxy he’s going to have to do it by himself and one at a time.”

“Oh,” she said sadly. “That’s too bad.”

“I’m sorry?”

“What?”

“You said –”

Private Redshirt shoved a taco into her mouth and said, “I can’t hear you!” before dropping a few space bucks onto the counter and running out of the cafeteria.

“What was that about?”

The lunchlady-bot just shrugged. At that moment, First Lieutenant Duknerts grabbed a tray and sidled up to Dr. Porniviriyakul.

“Lesbia, huh?” asked the first lieutenant. “If the captain’s trying to knock up the galaxy, why are we
starting
there?”

“I’m betting the computer is trying to kill him,” replied the veterinarian.

“The computer can’t –”

“The computer also can’t juggle cats, but we’ve all seen what it did to Redshirt’s kittens.”

“Those cats have just not been the same since...”

The first lieutenant grabbed a burrito while Dr. Porniviriyakul paid the lunchlady-bot.

“Hundred space bucks says Tyler winds up dead before the third planet.”

“You’re on, doc.”

Dr. Porniviriyakul, taco in hand, brought Captain Tyler up to the bridge on a hover bed, tapped on the door and left the captain to be picked up. Dr. Porniviriyakul had “forgotten” to lock the bed in place, causing Captain Tyler to slide out when the bed rolled to one side.

Captain Tyler woke upon hitting the floor and then quickly burst into the bridge, shouting, “Let’s knock some bitches up!”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” said Private Morgan Crimsonshirt. “He’s back and as insane as ever.”

“Damn straight, I am. Now, what planet is first on our mission to make it with every alien babe out there?”

“Every alien species, sir,” said Private Anthony Darkpinkshirt. “Not every alien babe. Every babe would be nearly impossible.”

“Point taken. I guess I can settle for one of each. So? Who am I plugging first?”

“Planet Lesbia,” replied Private Quarters. “Sir.”

“Lesbia, huh? Well, I do like a challenge.”

“That’s good,” said the computer, sounding like she was stifling a laugh.

“You sound like you’re stifling a laugh,” said Captain Tyler. “What’s the deal?”

“I took the liberty of informing the planet you were coming.”

“That’s a little pre—”

“You finish that sentence and I will laser your God damn face off.”

“I’m sensing some hostility.”

“Your plan is asinine and stupid. Sadly, though, my programming forbids me from stopping it.”

“Damn right you can’t.”

The computer grumbled, then said, “Anyway, I told them you were on the way. And then I told them your idiotic plan. Then I forwarded some of your more misogynistic holo-vids and mission reports. And then I told them you were terrible in bed, to boot.”

“I’m not following.”

“That’s good.”

“Right. So, time to hump some women then, isn’t it? Darkpinkshirt, make that my new status!”

“I’ll get your shuttle ready,” said the computer.

“You sound like you’re stifling a laugh again. I’m going to have Hank look into that when I get back.”

Captain Tyler landed and exited his shuttle. The landing pad was surrounded by several thousand of the native people.

“Lesbians!” bellowed the captain. “Which one among you shall be penetrated?”

The Lesbians stepped forward in unison and beat Captain Tyler to death, focusing a large percentage of their blows on his crotchular region. After the beating they tossed his body back into the shuttle and sent it back on its way to the Zdravo.

“Any signs of Captain Tyler?” asked First Lieutenant Duknerts.

“Well... no,” said the computer. “The shuttle is returning, but there’s no life signs on board.”

“Seriously? Fuck.”

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “I just need to go see Dr. Porn.”

The first lieutenant entered the veterinary lab and told Dr. Porniviriyakul what the computer had reported.

“Well, well, Duknerts, looks like you owe me a hundred space bucks.”

“Take it. I don’t know how you called that.”

“He was a pompous, sexist ass with a big mouth and a tiny wiener. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Just then, there was a loud thud against one of the lab’s windows. First Lieutenant Duknerts and Dr. Porniviriyakul turned to look.

“I think that’s... Johnson,” said Duknerts.

It turns out that Senior Dockworker Johnson had been floating aimlessly, between Planet Lesbia and the Zdravo, when he was accidently snagged by Captain Tyler’s shuttle on its return trip to the ship. He then was dislodged when the shuttle entered the Zdravo, whereupon he floated down to the veterinarian’s lab window.

“Should we send someone out to get him?”

“No time,” interrupted Dr. Sodomy, entering the lab. “Captain Tyler is back and he’s dead.”

“Yes, we know,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “I made a hundred space bucks off it.”

“Yeah, well, now we have to rebuild him. Again,” explained Dr. Sodomy. “I’ve got some extra gerbil parts lying around. And you’ve got that thing. You know, with the motor.”

“The Mega-Penetrator?”

“That’s it.”

“I am not giving Captain Tyler the Mega-Penetrator. That is specifically for inseminating space whales. If Captain Tyler got his hands on it... No. For the safety of the entire galaxy, no.”

“I’m with Dr. Porn,” said the first lieutenant. “Maybe it’s better if we leave him dead.”

“You guys do realize who’s next in command, right?” asked Dr. Sodomy.

“I thought I took control...”

“You’re third. Second-in-command is...”

“Oh, dear sweet Jesus, no,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul.

“I’m afraid so,” said Dr. Sodomy. “Commodore Feces is still technically second-in-command.”

“He’s been in the psych ward for years! How does he still have a rank?”

“Apparently Terminal Full-Cortex Insanity isn’t recognized by our insurance company.”