Captain Ryan’s bedraggled crew trudged into the dark engine room.
Ryan leaped atop his stationary bike. “Time to turn those frowns upside down, you sleepy scalawags!”
They groaned in unison.
“This ship won’t row itself!” Ryan peddled, powering on pink LED panels and blasting a peppy pop song.
His crew grudgingly mounted their bikes, and the ship’s ion drive sputtered to life.
“Produce less than 2 kWh today and you’re a rotten egg!” Ryan said. “And what do rotten eggs do?”
“Walk the tunnel,” the crew droned, pointing to the airlock.
Ryan grinned. “Only two more light-years to Epsilon Indi!”
Brandon Case is an erstwhile government cog who fled the doldrums into unsettling worlds of science and magic. He has recent or forthcoming work in Escape Pod, Air and Nothingness Press, and The Dread Machine, among others. You can catch his alpine adventures on Twitter and Instagram @BrandonCase101.
P.S. If you enjoyed this one, be sure to check out Brandon’s other recent contributions to Stupefying Stories, “Divided Sky, Stolen Life,” “Leave the Plasma Gun, Take the Cannoli,” and “Writers Strike Reaches the Office of Predestination.”
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2 comments:
HAHAHA! Sci-snark. Love it.
OMG, I want all my starship captains to use the term "sleepy scalliwags" now.
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