STARSHIP OF FOOLS - (C) 1986 Jerry Kindall and Rex Crossley

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"What, me worry?"
                                                  - Alfred E. Neuman

     The Glorkwinkle streaked through space.  It went directly toward
Oorlon.  It did not pass Go, and it did not collect $200.
     Melvin and I walked onto the bridge, both of us stuffed from the
huge breakfast.  "All I need now is a bottle of scotch to wash it down,"
Melvin sighed.
     "Uh," I added.
     Melvin removed his bandages and I was surprised to see that his
face was completely healed.  "Essence of Vlasic Cucumber," he explained.
 "Does the trick every time.  Like with your nose."
     I wasn't likely to forget my nose.  I reddened perceptibly as I
recalled the embarrassing incident.
     Zordoff was not on the bridge.  Melvin had contacted him and asked
him to set a course for Oorlon.  Zot had then invited him to the rec
room for a game of 3-D chess.  Melvin checked the navigation console and
reported that he had indeed set the correct course.  "But I could be
wrong.  I never --"
     "-- was very good with the navigation equipment," I finished for
him.
     We went into the bathroom off to the side of the bridge to check
our hair.  "Ha," I laughed, "look at your hair.  It's a mess."  Melvin
looked at my hair and said pretty much the same thing.  We both grabbed
for the brush at the same time.
     "Hey, I'm the captain; I get to use the brush first," Melvin
whined.
     "I'm the guest; where are your manners?" I wailed.
     We tugged on the brush in opposite directions and sent it sailing
into the mirror, which crashed at our feet in a thousand pieces.
     "Now look at what you did," Melvin whimpered.  "There were only two
mirrors on this ship and you just broke one."
     "Did not."
     "Did too."
     "Did not."
     "Did too."
     "Not."
     "Too!"
     "NOT!"
     "TOO!"
     At this moment, FILBERT accidently and unknowingly shifted the
Glorkwinkle's flight trajectory a fraction of a degree so that, instead
of proceeding directly to Oorlon, we would proceed directly to Oorlon's
sun.  Zot and Zordoff accidently hypnotized each other; they now thought
that they were elaborate bookends and so sat staring at each other
across the chess table.  Chester remembered his last name momentarily
but then forgot it again and lapsed into a deep depression and identity
crisis.  Snort's cold worsened; he took two aspirin and went to bed. 
Rhye suddenly developed arthritis.  Donald caught a freak ray of cosmic
magical energy and turned into a sponge.

                                 * * *

     Melvin and I returned to the bridge to consult the ship's computer.
 "FILBERT, this is your captain speaking," Melvin said.
     "Hello, Cap, how can I help you?" it said cockily.  FILBERT was a
young machine, and though it knew a lot about a lot of things, it seemed
obvious that it was lacking in data on how to interface with people.
     "Who threw the brush into the mirror?"
     "That is irrelevant," it told him.
     "What are you talking about?  Of course it's relevant.  One of us
gets seven years of bad luck."
     "You both get the bad luck, because you were both the cause."
     With that last sentence, the computer shut up and started playing
Bark of Platovia's smash hit, "I Can Only Rip Your Arm Off One More
Time."
     Melvin looked at me.
     I looked at Melvin.
     Melvin and I sighed.
     Melvin activated intership communications.  "All hands report to
the bridge.  ALL hands."  He emphasized this by sounding every alarm
that he knew how to operate and opening a beer into the microphone.

                                 * * *

     Chester sat up when he heard the beer.  He needed one.  It would
take his mind off what he didn't know.  Slowly, he stood up and trudged
to the bridge.

                                 * * *

     Rhye started moving when Melvin called his "all hands" and managed
to reach her door by the time he pulled the tab on the beer.  Arthritis
did not run in her family, so her condition must have been a result of
too much work.  She shrugged it off with a wince and turned into the
hallway.  She moved quickly to the bridge and arrived there a full ten
minutes later.

                                 * * *

     Snort forced himself to get out of bed.  He wiped his nose on his
sleeve.  He looked at his sleeve.  He changed his shirt.  Then he
proceeded to the bridge, looking for a handkerchief to blow his nose
into on the way.  All he could find, however, was a sponge.  He picked
it up, blew his nose into it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

                                 * * *

     Zot and Zordoff just sat and waited for someone to put a book
between them.

                                 * * *

     On the bridge (after deciding that we couldn't wait for Zot,
Zordoff, and Donald any longer), Melvin brought everyone up to date on
the situation.  "Matt here broke a mirror and --"
     "We both broke it," I interjected craftily as I started a game of
Pac-Man.
     "-- we are both going to be plagued with bad luck for seven years. 
So, uh, if you want to, you can leave the ship and uh, go your own
separate ways.  If you'd like."  Melvin stared at his shoes, which were
a bright red (his favorite color).
     Rhye spoke.  "We don't want to desert you, Melvin."  There was a
murmur of agreement.  "We're your friends, at least I think we are.  We
fought off Jordann the Immensely Fat, kind of; we're on a quest to get
him off our backs.  Together.  We may have our differences, but I think
we make a darn good team."
     "So what are you trying to say?" asked Melvin, still amazed with
his shoes.
     "I'm trying to say that I for one am going to..."
     "BLAAAAAARGHCHOOOOOO!!"
     "...stick with you no matter what."
     Snort wiped his nose, and the floor, with the nearly saturated
sponge.  He glanced warily at Chester.
     "Even though you might suffer from our bad luck?" Melvin asked.
     "This may come as a shock to you, Melvin, but I think we already
are," Rhye said.  "Look around."
     Melvin looked at Rhye and noticed for the first time that she was
hunched over.  He looked at Chester, who was so depressed that the
innocent sparkle was gone from his eyes.  He looked at Snort and saw him
wringing out the sponge onto the floor and getting ready to sneeze
again.  His eyes were more red and swollen than usual.
     "I guess you are in bad shape.  The others must be worse, since
they didn't show up."  Melvin marched toward the computer, noticed how
stupid he looked, and began walking normally.
     "FILBERT, this is the captain again."
     "Yes, sir!" the computer said.
     "Have you noticed anything strange going on?"
     FILBERT was silent for a moment and then said, "What exactly do you
mean by strange?"
     "Anything."
     "Oh, let me see, our flight trajectory seems to be a little off, so
we're going right into Oorlon's sun, uh, the peanut butter has turned
into peanut oil, and, uh, there are black cats on C deck."
     "Oh," began Melvin.
     Everything happened quickly.  A horde of black cats ran onto the
bridge and started crossing everyone's path.  The ship began
accelerating; the alarms started howling.  Chester forgot where he was. 
Snort's sponge wailed in pain.  My Pac-Man game blinked out and a
message from the computer appeared across the screen, a line at a time:
          THERE IS SOMETHING IN OUR PATH, I THINK
          I'M PRETTY SURE NOW
          YES, SOMETHING IS POSITIVELY IN OUR PATH
          IT IS BIG
          IT IS VERY VERY BIG
          IT IS NOT AN ARGELLIAN TREE-SMOKING BABOON
          IT IS NOT A GOODYEAR BLIMP
          IT IS NOT A GIANT GOLFBALL
          IT IS A...
     Then we hit it.
