Screw the Universe by Stephen Schwegler, Eirik Gumeny Page A

to be captain anyway? I can’t imagine he’s any good in an interview. Did someone lose a bet or something?”
     
    “Well, no,” explained Space Marshal Orr. “See, I’m not all that sure... I’m told I was heavily medicated at the time, which I don’t doubt. I do love me some painkillers. Anyway, Steelballs usually handled things like promotions, but – Feces! Feces was definitely involved somehow.”
     
    “Okay, you can stop now.”
     
    “Are you sure? The story’s barely starting.”
     
    “Yeah, no. I’m done.”
     
    “Oh, okay,” said a noticeably disappointed Marshal Orr. “Well, anyway, just make sure that toaster explodes in Tyler’s face.”
     
    “And if I can’t? Can I just murder him?”
     
    “Yeah, sure,” replied the marshal with a shrug. “He dies and you get yourself a promotion off that ship.”
     

     
    An hour later, Private Naughtyplaces ran into Captain Tyler in the cafeteria. Literally. There was pudding everywhere.
     
    “Tyler! It’s you!”
     
    “That I am.”
     
    “Did you... inspect the toasters?”
     
    “Yup. After I had the ship’s computer short them all with a power surge.”
     
    “Oh, huh,” said Naughtyplaces, legitimately impressed with Tyler and, therefore, doubting everything she knew to be true. “Wouldn’t have thought to do that myself.”
     
    “It was Duknerts’s idea.”
     
    “Ah.”
     
    All was right with the universe again.
     
    “So you found the bomb Orr was worried about?”
     
    “Mailed it back to the Federation Space Station. Figured the lab there could check it out and maybe see where it came from.”
     
    “Yeah, I’m sure they have no idea where it came from,” said Private Naughtyplaces.
     
    “If that’s all, Private, I’d like to get back to my grilled cheese,” replied the captain. “It’s starting to get less melty and more congeal-y.”
     
    “Uh, no. No! There are... uh, vag’s that need your... expertise?”
     
    “I’m listening.”
     
    “Uh... yeah, VAGs. Vector... Alpha Gamma... rays. Emitting from, uh, from the planet... Stupidia.”
     
    “I’ve not heard of any of these things.”
     
    “Yeah, well, it was classified. Marshal Orr called and told me to tell you to take care of them.”
     
    “Uh huh,” said Tyler suspiciously. “So, these VAG rays...?”
     
    “Right, yeah. Uh, VAG rays are, uh, emitted by creatures of low intellect. Enough of them together, though, can actually, uh, lower intelligence in other creatures. It’s why giant crowds of people always act poorly. And why there are so many dancing shows on television.”
     
    “I’m not following.”
     
    “It’s our mission? The one Orr gave us? Way back before things exploded randomly? The one neither of us totally made up?” said Private Naughtyplaces.
     
    Captain Tyler stared blankly at her.
     
    “What I’m saying is, you’re going to have to go down to Stupidia and destroy those VAGs.”
     
    “About damn time,” replied the captain, adding, “Weren’t you dead?”
     
    “Yes, and it was wonderful,” replied Naughtyplaces. “Now you just eat your grilled cheese and I’ll get everything set for your arrival planet-side.”
     
    “That’s not what you do...”
     
    “Everyone else is dead.”
     
    “Yeah, but, I’m pretty sure you don’t have the authority to –”
     
    “Do what I say and I will take off my shirt.”
     
    “Yes, ma’am.”
     

     
    Captain Tyler, First Lieutenant Duknerts, Private Redshirt, and Dr. Porniviriyakul stepped out of the Zdravo and onto the planet Stupidia. Although, technically, it was Planet WTF-69-Hombre. Private Naughtyplaces just told Tyler it was Stupidia so he’d agree to the suicide mission she and Space Marshal Orr concocted. Duknerts, Redshirt, and Porniviriyakul weren’t supposed to be there, but they did let her die once, so fuck them.
     
    “Dr. Porn?” said the captain.
     
    “Yes, Captain?” said the doctor.
     
    “You have my thermos of soup,