Space Captain Dusk McThunder woke up in a cold sweat. This was the third sleep cycle in a row he dreamt of his father, and how his father tragically died. He hadn’t recalled his father this often since he was a child, and he desperately wanted the memory out of his mindvault. No, thought Dusk, don’t think about Father–about that day at the carnival. No no no no no no no no no.
Dusk rolled out of his sleep pod, disappointed to be awake several lighthours before his alarm again, and decided to begin his day early. Being the captain of the By-Tor X2330, the finest military spacecraft New America had to offer, was a busy and stressful job, so Dusk was used to sleeping very little. He strapped on his Space Pants, buttoned his Galaxy Helmet, and tightened his Captain’s Sash–no captain could address his crew or pilot his vessel without being properly dressed, as is stated in The Code.
Dusk exited his quarters and was greeted. “Good spacemorning, Captain,” said T8V3, the crew’s servant robot, “what foodstuffs may I prepare for you?”
“Steak,” grunted Dusk.
“Steak, sir?” questioned T8V3, “Why not something more breakfast-like to start your day? Like oatmeal or powdered eggs?”
“I said steak. Now.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.” T8V3 knew that Dusk was having dreams again about the death of his father, the once famous Space Captain Dr. Dunk McThunder. He knew this because he was a psychic robot, though he could never tell the crew because he knew it would ruin his relationship with each of them, and also because he was not even fully aware that he was psychic, because T8V3 could read everyone’s mind but his own. (note: maybe make the robot a she for an awesome twist later?)
The adorable (if you could see him, you’d know) mind-reading robot finished preparing the Captain’s walrus steak and laid it on the table in front of Dusk, careful not to break the ceramic spaceplate with his adorable metal claws. Walrus meat was Dusk McThunder’s favorite food, as he was a red-and-purple-blooded meat-eating New American, and meat was scarce on Earth since that meteor hit in 2040. The Walri managed to outlive most other animal species, however, and began to take over many areas of land. In Earth Year 2112 they currently have possession over all of Antarctica, Australia, the southern tip of Africa, and all of Texas. The Walri have evolved into an incredibly intelligent species and trade their weakest and dumbest in the form of meat to humans in exchange for energy drinks and giant toothbrushes. They occasionally run for political offices and are incredibly popular with Born-Again Republican voters.
But that is irrelevant to our story, so back to our hero, Dusk, who was currently chewing on a delicious slab of walrus, once named Hugo, who did awful on the Walrus SATs. Dusk swallowed the last of poor Hugo, and washed the idiot down with a glass of crater juice.
“Thanks, T8,” said Dusk, “But now it is time to get to work.” (note: maybe say “it’s” so it sounds more casual?) The New American government gave Dusk a very important mission: finding the notorious space pirate, Chode Bolo, who had recently escaped from Moon Prison. This was a dangerous task, but no one was better suited than Dusk.
Dusk adjusted his sash and leaned into his Captain’s Chair, staring at the vast black galaxy. I’m gonna track you down, Chode. I’m going to avenge my father’s death, thought Dusk. Then, in a spontaneous fit of anger, he slammed his hand on the controls desk. He was super emotional about this whole Chode thing (note: maybe rephrase that line). Just as he was on the verge of weeping, Martini Vanno, the sexy female space spy, hired by New America CIA/NASA to work with Dusk and the crew, walked by the cockpit door.
“Captain McThunder?” said Martini.
“Yes? What?” said Dusk, startled, and sucking up a single tear with the vacuum in his Galaxy Helmet.
“Is everything OK?” She walked in. So sexy.
“Of course. Just planning our next move to find that blasted criminal, Ms. Vanno. Nothing to worry about.” He flashed her a smile. The sexyual tension was so thick, one could cut it with a spaceknife (note: maybe just “knife?”).
“What is our next move, Captain?” asked Martini, her dark hair wofting like there was a fan nearby, even though there wasn’t. So, so sexy.
“Well if I know Chode Bolo, he’ll be back to doing what he does best–intercepting asteroids and selling them to space terrorists, so that they may be used to build various crushing devices. Or grinding the asteroids up into drugs and selling them to Martian children. Either way, we are paying a visit to my brother, Spunk McThunder. He’s a space geologist and would know exactly which types of asteroids are worth the most at the moment, and therefore, what type of asteroids Bolo will be going for,” said Dusk.
“Brilliant! How far away is your brother?”
“Just about a lightday’s travel away, on a nearby planet, Pilxth,” said Dusk. “And we need to really get a move on. Go wake the crew, Martini, tell them to start operating the speed pump and gravity belts, because we’ve got quite a trip ahead of us.”
“Yes, sir!” Martini said and ran off too alert the crew, her space high heels clunking loudly against the metal floor, alerting everyone within earshot that she was wearing an accessory totally impractical and unnecessary, but way sexy, so no one questioned it.
TO BE CONTINUED…