She stood on the bridge, gazing out the forward viewport. Stars streamed by, and she thought just how so miraculous and awe-inspiring it was that each one was a twinkling wonder where the worlds existed, and all endless possibilities, and so much promise–
“Captain Toboggan!” The nasal cry shaking her out of her reverie.
“What is it, Ramjack?” She said, turning to face the source of the voice, a round-headed, beady-eyed pale wonder of a man(?).
“We’re getting some strange readings on the scan-o-scope!” Ramjack wheezed.
“It’s probably just that patchouli you’ve painted yourself with,” she said, waving her hand in front of her nose, “I thought I ordered you to take a bath.”
“I did, Captain,” he snotted, “and this isn’t patchouli. It’s Tellaxian Mondo-musk.”
“That doesn’t make it stink any less. If anything that makes it even more repulsive.” Toboggan said, hating to be reminded of her ex-husband, a spineless, hairless slug of a Tellaxian used flivver salesman, “regardless, give me some specifics on those scan-o-scope readings.”
“It looks as though we have entered an easy-going field of lazy waves.”
A gasp came from across the bridge, and a shrill voice said, “Oh man! We’re so jacked!”
Captain Toboggan threw a fierce look back at it, “I don’t need that kind of attitude from you, Lieutenant, and what the hell is wrong with your face?”
Two embarrassed eyes beaded out from an inflated, neon pink splotched head that if you didn’t know better you’d guess was some kind of candied carnival sideshow snack, “It’s a space rash.”
“Great Christ, where have you been rubbing your freaking cheeks?” The Captain exclaimed, knuckling her temples.
“I fell asleep on the beach on Glaffos-12,” he said, scratching his forehead with a fork.
“Didn’t you see Doctor Rick about a lotion or a balm or a freaking lazer salve? C’mon, man.”
“I didn’t have time yet.”
“Well, step lively then. AND STOP SCRATCHING!”
The lieutenant jumped to and hustled out into the conveyance tube. The Captain plopped down in her chair, let out a big sigh, “Computer.”
“Oi, Cappum. Woz kin I du fur yuuuuuu?” The digital voice said sounding like an effeminate version of the official spokesman for the Uncanny Valley Peat Moss and Cabbage Roll Industry Association.
The Captain rubbed her face like it was a long-vacant magic lamp, “I am still waiting for an answer on WHO REPROGRAMMED YOUR GODDAMN VOICE PROTOCOLS! Also, anything on these lazy waves.”
“Whan nere’s no new infuuumashun on ew gon-a dun dat,” the computer gleeped, “an dem wazy raves ees whoa hog mustereerious oindeed.”
“Dem’s be moist moistereenius,” it bleeped.
The Captain stood up, breathing long and hard through her nose, walked slowly up to the viewport. She stared at at the cosmos. Inside, her soul started to chill. As in out. She knew it was the lazy waves, those enigmatic relaxed rays of smooth cool that just floated out in the void, smoothing and soothing. Why didn’t she follow her dreams and open that ice cream shoppe in Spokane instead of galavanting all over space and beyond. If only she could turn back time–
She spun around, seeking the source of the noise. A glowing cloud of mauve solidified into some kinda somethin’ what looked like the result of an Ikea Tjusig and a pot roast having made nasty, unprotected sex. It stepped towards Capt. Toboggan and gazed (or was it goggling?) at her and intoned (or was it wheezing?), “I am an alien species!”
“Uh huh,” she said, “so are we, if you think about it.”
It did, and majestically (or was it spasmodically) nodded its head(?), and crooned (or barfed?) on, “you have sailed your space plane into our star place. What are your intentions?”
Toboggan felt a muscle pinch in a place in her neck she usually kept reserved for her ex-mother-in-law, that Tellaxian bitch. Apparently this alien lifeform nullified the effects of the lazy waves. She straightened her spine and raised her chin and cleared her throat and in her best Space Captain voice said, ” Greetings! We are the crew of the Space Vessel Moonkicker. Come all the way across time and space. Freedom is not dumb. Justice is just as sweet. Peace and knowledge are the fuel for our fire. And it is that fire that has propelled here today! Harya!”
She stuck out her hand. The chunky cum sticky thing raised an arm(?) towards her. She took it and shook it. She tasted mauve.
“We are Wanoons,” it said, “I am Wanoo.”
“We are humans,” she said, “I am Toboggan.”
They stared at each other. For awhile. It went on. It got old.
“What happens now?” Wanoo asked.
Toboggan really felt that muscle pinch now, and that purple taste was starting to burn her tongue. Sometimes she just wanted to put a fusion blaster in her mouth and pull the trigger.
For this she went to college.