“Welcome aboard the Non Sequitur capsule, flight commander…

Neil Todd, it’s a real pleasure to meet you in person. I mean, you know… I follow your missions very closely down at Houston Central Command, but as a capsule recycling technician I couldn’t wait to welcome you back to your ship for your next mission.” The tech is a portly woman of about twenty years of age. Her hair is pulled back in a tight braid. Her green coveralls covered in a slew of nicks and tears from repetitive injuries taken on the job. She must be very ambitious to have made lead at this age. It’s not a glamorous position, but techs like her keep the craft in peak performing condition, and well stocked. “Will lieutenant Jenny Todd be joining us soon commander?” I can see her smile growing bigger with anticipation. My wife is a force to behold. She can capture the attention of a football stadium with her wit and charm. People gravitate to her, as though she had her own gravitational pull. “Flight Commander Jennifer Todd will be joining us at oh four hundred. So less than ten minutes if all our instrumentation is properly synchronized.” I’m very attentive to even the merest of slights against my second in command. She also happens to be the mother of my two daughters. And my reason to get up every morning. “Oh, yes… sorry. I forgot about the field promotion that Cmdr Jennifer Todd earned recently. Please excuse me…” the tech is crestfallen, she attempts to slink out of the airlock, and extricate herself from our encounter. “Oh, please… come on, stay. I’m just fucking with you… uh, Capsule Recycle Technician Stacie Bradley.” A brief pause, then you can see the relief wash over her face, the twinkle in her eyes is back. Her shoulders relax out of their tensed up hunch.

“Ok now, ease it back, that’s it, nice and slow now… watch out for those waypoint markers, they’re closer than the last time we shipped out.” I say it in jest. My wife knows this ship better than I do. She is one of the best pilots I’ve ever flown with. We’re the first mission ever to have two Flight Commanders, and we are proud of it. No way were going to split up just so we could captain our own capsules individually. No, the Non Sequitur was where we conceived both of our daughters, it’s where we’ve raised them ever since. Except for the brief interludes between missions, spent in low gravity on the base around the dark side of the moon. Our girls have never known earth. They are brilliant, beautiful and talented junior cadets. A chip off the old block. Tenacious, just like their mother. A woman who is my second in command first, and a devoted wife and mother second. There is nobody else I trust my life, and ship with more.

“The Company has asked us for a run down on the payload again. Seems like there might be an anomaly with the manifests. We are showing added weight on board that they can’t account for… Yo! You who. Neil!… you read me?” Jenny is barking into the intercom, she knows damn well I can hear her, especially at this range. “That’s a copy, Cmdr Jenny. I was given a gift of some super expensive, but real artisanal Chinese coffee, has a hint of spice to it. It’s lovely.” I say it with a smile in my voice, I know what’s coming next. “It’s cinnamon isn’t it. You fucking bastard, you know how much I hate cinnamon!” She enunciates each word harshly. “Well, more for me then I guess. Each bulb has this lovely poem on them, in a very traditional script. Mandarin, and Cantonese. They are a work of art. Shame we have to incinerate all trash for the recyclers.” We are making small talk. The first twenty nine weeks to get out past Mars are tedious and boring. We’ll be testing out equipment as we slowly build up speed. Can’t turn the main ion engines on until we have enough room out in front of us. That reminds me, I have to check in on the sensor and antenna arrays. Part of my daily ritual, I do it so often it becomes automated, deep in that reptilian part of the human brain.

Everyday, day after day, after the girls are asleep and her command shift has ended, Jenny comes to the observation port to gaze at the void before us. I’m always here, tucked behind the fold down table that nestles into the bulk head, eeking out all that I can from the sensor and antenna arrays. She knows she’ll find me here. The first time out to Pluto is something you never forget. So she comes up here and seems to be able to capture the awe every single time. I am unable to do this, and I’m not mad. I love to see her smile. Just like our girls, her dimples pop when she is genuinely happy. Her orange flight suit is immaculate. Jen helps to run a tight ship. She keeps the girls occupied with small science related tasks, and cleaning. Lots of cleaning. They got to skip basic, and flight training by virtue of having been born into it, so to save them getting too cocky, we have them wash everything imaginable. Not to mention their two famous, and intrepid parents. Jen was popular and extremely talented as a test pilot in the air force. I garnered my accolades by designing a capsule for The Company that can take a hit from an asteroid and bounce rather than implode or burst into ten million one micron pieces, us passengers included. For that they let me fly with the best of the best of them. That’s how I met my wife, she piloted the early makes and models of The Company’s capsules. Love at first flight.

There is a heavy layer of smoke, like a painted veil, or gauze in front of my face, it stinks of burning electrical. There are sparks shooting out wildly from exposed wires. I’m tumbling end over end, with both a pitch and yaw. My vision is red, I can feel the sting of blood in my eyes. My head is pounding, I think I’m going to be sick. I can’t tell which direction is up. What is that noise… everything is going black. Why are there horns. God damn my head hurts. Fuck, I’m about to pass out. Fuck, fuck… fuck.

 

PART III