Screw the Universe (5 page)

“Oh, uh… No. Hank ‘Liked’ it, though.”

“The janitor-robot?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s he doing on Facebook?! Shouldn’t he be cleaning something?”

Another Proton Disaster Beam pummeled into the Zdravo, taking with it the bridge’s side window and most of Private Reginald Titmouse’s skull.

“Anyone else notice that the pirates keep getting headshots? From outside the space ship?” asked Private Eustace W. Fluffernutter. “How is that even possible?”

Private Fluffernutter’s face then exploded.

“That’s an excellent question,” said Private Marvin Pantyliner.

His face exploded too.

“Okay,” said Captain Tyler, “this is getting gross. Computer?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Run a scan of the Zdravo. See if anyone is sending the pirates e-mails or text messages or something.”

“Running scan…”

The captain scratched his balls again. Deeply. Thoroughly.

“A transmitter is being broadcast from the sub-basement,” continued the computer. “It does not appear to be Federation issue.”

“We’re on it,” said First Lieutenant Duknerts.

“We have a basement?” said Captain Tyler.

Private Redshirt stood in front of the sub-basement door and waited for the go ahead from Captain Tyler. Tyler, for his part, was cowering behind First Lieutenant Duknerts.

The captain, pulling Duknerts close, took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Private Yvette Redshirt slowly turned the knob.

Then she opened the door.

The private, the first lieutenant, and the captain all gasped.

Then they realized they were staring into a pitch black stairwell and couldn’t see anything. Private Redshirt felt around for a light switch and flipped it. Then they all gasped again.

They were now looking at a well lit stairwell.

“We should probably hold our gasping for an appropriate moment,” said Private Redshirt.

“Probably, yeah,” said the captain.

“Or do away with it all together,” replied Lieutenant Duknerts.

“What?! Are you mad, man?!”

“Hey,” said a deep, gravelly voice, “who’s up there?”

“We are,” replied First Lieutenant Duknerts. “Who are you?”

“I’m me.”

The trio couldn’t see anyone. Whoever was speaking was not standing directly at the bottom of the stairs. He was off to the side somewhere, just out of sight. That bastard.

“Are you a pirate?” asked Private Redshirt.

“Yes,” said the voice. “I mean, no. No, I’m not a pirate.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Maybe I don’t believe you!”

“This is dumb,” said Captain Tyler. “Violence!”

He pulled his laser pistol and ran down the stairs. First Lieutenant Duknerts followed after him. It was in his contract to make sure Tyler remained among the living. Granted, if he let Tyler die, it would only be a slight fine, but Commodore Feces was second-in-command and, aside from being completely insane and chained to a bed in the psych ward of the ship, he was kind of a dick.

Private Redshirt sighed. Her contract didn’t specify that anyone had to survive, so she simply plopped her butt down and waited for her witless commanding officers to return. That is, until she heard Captain Tyler’s horrified little girly-scream from deep within the parts of the basement she couldn’t see.

That’s when she decided she wanted ice cream.

“Large cone please. Chocolate and vanilla swirl.”

“Sure thing,” said the lunchlady-bot.

Private Percival Q. Purplepants got in line behind Private Redshirt and said hello.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” replied Private Redshirt.

“So, how about that continuing pirate assault, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Sucks to be us.”

“Only if you’re one of the ones to get your head exploded.”

“That’s why I wear this helmet.”

“No, it’s not.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, First Lieutenant Duknerts had his hands full. Literally. Captain Tyler had run face first into an exposed pipe and cracked his skull open. During the ensuing screaming and thrashing, he had managed to shake his brain loose. Conveniently, it had landed in Duknerts’ open hands.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Wally Glagrik, Neptunian Devil Bear union president and owner of the mysterious voice from moments earlier. “You’re holding his brain!”

“Holy shit!” said First Lieutenant Duknerts.

Tyler’s body didn’t say anything.

Private Redshirt walked down the cellar stairs and found her crewmates in a state of panic and death, respectively. She looked beyond them because, to be frank, she wasn’t all that concerned, and that’s when she noticed Wally standing against the wall with a walkie-talkie.

“You’re the pirate?” she asked, simultaneously pointing over at the Neptunian Devil Bear’s union president and licking her ice cream cone.

“I told you I’m not a pirate.”

“But then why are those pirates outside attacking us?”

First Lieutenant Duknerts turned and faced Private Redshirt.

“Brain! Dead! Tyler! Feces! NOOOOOOO!”

“Yeah, okay, fine,” she replied. “I think the pirate question is more pressing.”

“You should probably ask that guy, then,” said Wally Glagrik, pointing his walkie-talkie at an unwashed man with a bandana, an eye patch and a wooden leg, in a corner and trying to hide behind his own arm.

“Yeah, probably,” said Private Redshirt.

Pointing her ice cream at the man she asked, “You a pirate?”

“Arr.”

“And you’re the reason we’re being attacked?”

“Arr.”

“Can you stop?”

“Arr,” he said. “I mean, no. Fuck you. And your Federation!”

“What?!” roared Wally. “No one says an unkind thing about the Federation! Ever!”

The Neptunian Devil Bear bounded across the basement in a single... uh, bound. He mercilessly mauled the space pirate, tearing him into a dozen bite-size pieces. Well, bite-size for a Neptunian Devil Bear. Even the smallest devil bear is the size of a mid-sized sedan. And Wally Glagrik was not a small devil bear. Which is why he was able to eat the pirate so quickly.

Wally Glagrik burped.

First Lieutenant Duknerts dropped the captain’s brain in shock.

Captain Tyler’s brain made a
squish
sound upon hitting the floor.

Private Redshirt threw up.

Wally Glagrik burped again and, raising two paws to his mouth, said, “Ugh, excuse me. Pirates always come back up on me. Tasty as hell, though.”

“Why didn’t you just eat him from the start then?” asked Private Redshirt, wiping vomit from the corners of her mouth.

“I didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. Not all pirates are evil, you know.”

“He’s attacking the ship! People are exploding up there!” replied First Lieutenant Duknerts. “Didn’t you notice?!”

“Well, no. It was really dark down here. And quiet.”

“Why are you even down here?” asked Private Redshirt, looking around at the dank, low-ceilinged basement.

“Well, it was really dark down here. And quiet.”

“The guest quarters are the nicest rooms on the ship...”

“Well, yeah. But then there was all this banging and screaming. I just wanted to take a nap.”

First Lieutenant Duknerts glared at the Neptunian Devil Bear. Private Redshirt glared at the Neptunian Devil Bear and licked her ice cream cone. Captain Tyler’s inert body stared wide-eyed at Private Redshirt’s ass. Not on purpose, sure, he was dead after all, but it speaks volumes about his character that this is what he was doing just moments after accidentally killing himself.

“Should we go upstairs and see if everyone’s done shooting us?” asked First Lieutenant Duknerts, turning to his subordinate.

“Sure,” replied Private Redshirt.

“What about the captain?” asked Wally Glagrik.

“I’m not carrying him.”

“We’ll leave him here for the time being,” said the first lieutenant. Then he glared at Wally again. “Don’t eat him.”

“Aw,” replied the devil bear.

Lieutenant Duknerts and Private Redshirt returned to the bridge to find it painted a lovely shade of blood. There appeared to be two dozen more freshly-repaired holes in the walls, and at least half as many headless, exploded privates strewn about the floor.

“Yikes,” said Private Redshirt, finishing her ice cream.

“This doesn’t make you throw up but watching a bear eat a man did?” asked the first lieutenant.

“What? No,” she replied. “That’s not why I threw up down there. I was just bored.”

“You’re a strange person, Yvette.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kinda cute when you’re scared shitless and holding brains.”

“Really?”

“I said it didn’t I?”

“Um, yeah,” stammered First Lieutenant Duknerts. “You want to get a cup of coffee or something?”

“No.”

“But you said…”

“I said shitless and brains. Right now you’ve got neither going on.”

“I’m a little scared.”

“Not enough.”

First Lieutenant Duknerts thought for a moment, and then formed one of the worst ideas imaginable.

“Computer, call Hank in here and have him clean everything, but tell him to save the brains.”

“Yes, sir,” said the computer.

“Awesome. I’m going to run and get medical attention for Captain Tyler.”

“Dr. Sodomy is not on board. Only Nurse Sidemanner is available at the moment.”

“She’ll have to do,” the first lieutenant said. Then he turned to Private Redshirt. “You wait in the cafeteria and I’ll be in shortly.”