around there are slow nods. A few sniffles. The air in the room is becoming a little clearer. Finally someone has a plan. “Archer,” the captain continues, “can you call up the ship schematics on that wall console?”
Cole disengages from Britta, who’s clinging to him like a frightened bunny, and looks skeptically at the fried panel on the wall. The screen is shattered and the frayed circuitry behind it is visible. He taps it tentatively, and a shower of sparks flies out from the cracks, sending all the girls screaming again.
“Uh, it broke,” Cole says.
The captain walks over to the panel to look for himself, although he’s clearly not going to find any useful information there either. Ascertaining that, dur, the panel is not functioning, he turns away from the debris back down the hall, toward the pool. “We’ll just have to get there the old-fashioned way, then, won’t we?” he says. “Ladies, let’s move out.”
“Sir?” I holler as he passes. But he doesn’t turn. “Hey, bucko!” I shout again. “Yoo-hoo!”
At that he turns around. You can tell just by the look on his face that he’s certainly never been yoo-hoo’d at before.
“Is there something on your mind ?” he growls. His eyebrows curl upward in annoyance. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone snarl with their eyebrows.
“Oooh,” Britta fake-whispers to Other Cheerleader. “Hippopotabutt’s in trouble !”
I ignore her.
“That’s not the fastest way to the bridge,” I tell the captain.
He pauses for a second, glancing down the length of the hall. Then, with a decisive breath, he turns back to me. “You know the way?” he asks.
I nod. “It’s only a few decks up from here. We can take the back stairwell behind the pool’s laundry closet.”
“There’s likely to be more debris blocking other areas off,”Cole offers. Britta has her arm slung around his neck and limps next to him. It’s all I can do to keep from pulling his ray gun from his hip and vaporizing both of them. Clearly Cole came all this way for her. Clearly he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me. Clearly I just need to get over it.
I stand up as straight as my pregnant back will allow. “I know the layout of the Echidna backward and forward,” I tell the captain confidently. “I’ll find the way.”
“Captain,” Cole puts in, “we should go with your initial instinct and head back the way we came. If there’s damage throughout the rest of the ship, we should be in territory we’re familiar with.”
“ I’m familiar with it,” I reply.
“Elvie, c’mon. This is—”
The captain holds up his hand for Cole to stop. He looks at me, and then looks at Cole. “Archer,” he says finally, “you couldn’t crap in a bucket if it were strapped to your ass. We will follow the lady.”
So just like that I’m bumped up in rank to navigator to the bridge, leading a group of survivors in an emergency escape attempt from a reeling spaceship that, according to our pretty-boy rescuers, was until just recently controlled by aliens. My dad would be so proud. I bet even the king of disaster plans didn’t have a folder for that in his crisis survival drawer.
We’re just turning the first corner—the captain and me in the front, and Cole and the fab fourteen in tow—when I realize something. “Hey,” I say, squinting up at the captain. He really is handsome, in a preppy catalog-model sort of way. “You got a name?”
He jerks his gaze away from his phone, which he’s unsuccessfullybeen jabbing at for the last two minutes. “Pardon?” he replies.
“Your name ,” I repeat. “You know, ‘ Je m’appelle Monsieur LeDouche ,’ that sort of thing?” I am going for humor, for some sort of normalcy, but the captain—surprise, surprise—does not crack a smile. “It would really help the running narrative in my head if I actually knew what to call you.”
The captain pinches the bridge of his nose. When he does finally speak
Cole disengages from Britta, who’s clinging to him like a frightened bunny, and looks skeptically at the fried panel on the wall. The screen is shattered and the frayed circuitry behind it is visible. He taps it tentatively, and a shower of sparks flies out from the cracks, sending all the girls screaming again.
“Uh, it broke,” Cole says.
The captain walks over to the panel to look for himself, although he’s clearly not going to find any useful information there either. Ascertaining that, dur, the panel is not functioning, he turns away from the debris back down the hall, toward the pool. “We’ll just have to get there the old-fashioned way, then, won’t we?” he says. “Ladies, let’s move out.”
“Sir?” I holler as he passes. But he doesn’t turn. “Hey, bucko!” I shout again. “Yoo-hoo!”
At that he turns around. You can tell just by the look on his face that he’s certainly never been yoo-hoo’d at before.
“Is there something on your mind ?” he growls. His eyebrows curl upward in annoyance. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone snarl with their eyebrows.
“Oooh,” Britta fake-whispers to Other Cheerleader. “Hippopotabutt’s in trouble !”
I ignore her.
“That’s not the fastest way to the bridge,” I tell the captain.
He pauses for a second, glancing down the length of the hall. Then, with a decisive breath, he turns back to me. “You know the way?” he asks.
I nod. “It’s only a few decks up from here. We can take the back stairwell behind the pool’s laundry closet.”
“There’s likely to be more debris blocking other areas off,”Cole offers. Britta has her arm slung around his neck and limps next to him. It’s all I can do to keep from pulling his ray gun from his hip and vaporizing both of them. Clearly Cole came all this way for her. Clearly he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me. Clearly I just need to get over it.
I stand up as straight as my pregnant back will allow. “I know the layout of the Echidna backward and forward,” I tell the captain confidently. “I’ll find the way.”
“Captain,” Cole puts in, “we should go with your initial instinct and head back the way we came. If there’s damage throughout the rest of the ship, we should be in territory we’re familiar with.”
“ I’m familiar with it,” I reply.
“Elvie, c’mon. This is—”
The captain holds up his hand for Cole to stop. He looks at me, and then looks at Cole. “Archer,” he says finally, “you couldn’t crap in a bucket if it were strapped to your ass. We will follow the lady.”
So just like that I’m bumped up in rank to navigator to the bridge, leading a group of survivors in an emergency escape attempt from a reeling spaceship that, according to our pretty-boy rescuers, was until just recently controlled by aliens. My dad would be so proud. I bet even the king of disaster plans didn’t have a folder for that in his crisis survival drawer.
We’re just turning the first corner—the captain and me in the front, and Cole and the fab fourteen in tow—when I realize something. “Hey,” I say, squinting up at the captain. He really is handsome, in a preppy catalog-model sort of way. “You got a name?”
He jerks his gaze away from his phone, which he’s unsuccessfullybeen jabbing at for the last two minutes. “Pardon?” he replies.
“Your name ,” I repeat. “You know, ‘ Je m’appelle Monsieur LeDouche ,’ that sort of thing?” I am going for humor, for some sort of normalcy, but the captain—surprise, surprise—does not crack a smile. “It would really help the running narrative in my head if I actually knew what to call you.”
The captain pinches the bridge of his nose. When he does finally speak
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