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Technically, I am supposed to stay inside the cabin until the company returns. Going outside brings excess risk and can lead to the planet not technically being inhabited anymore, which is the only way I can fuck this mission up.
This really is an easy job. It requires almost no qualifications whatsoever, which is what first drew me to the job. The sitting on my ass for a few months thing was just an additional bonus.
Finally, Kurt and Steve have everything ready. The cabin is anchored, and the various doodads and whatnots that make it work are in place and doing their dads or whatever it is they do. It is a dull brown lump on the landscape. I like to think of it as cozy rather than ugly, which is the same attitude I have about my snugsuit.
I haven’t paid much attention to the actual planet. Kurt and Steve have been scoping it out, making sure it’s all safe, seeing whether it’s worth our time and space gas to go all the way back to Earth to register. I’ve been eating snacks and waiting to either take off, or not.
“Alright, one last briefing,” Kurt starts in on me. The secret of these two is that though Steve appears to be the stress-y one, and Kurt comes across as the most relaxed man you ever encountered, Kurt carries the weight of this expedition on his broad shoulders.
“Stay inside the cabin as much as you can. We’ve packed plenty of supplies for you, there’s a limited number of rations if you encounter troubles with the food processor. Data indicates that there are some edible plants, and potentially animals, on the planet. It is better if you do not try to encounter them.”
I nod. I know all of this. The message boils down to a simple: Stay indoors.
“There is a weapons array. The cabin’s walls are practically impenetrable, so again, staying inside is the safest option, but you might decide you need to go for a walk. If that’s the case, stay within the perimeter we’ve laid out for you. The plants grow swiftly here, so deploy the antifoliant regularly, or you’ll find the workings all gummed up.”
“I have something else to help with that,” Steve says. “One moment.”
He disappears to his cabin, then emerges a few loud and bumpy seconds later with a creature.
“Meheheheh!”
It is a small ungulate with brown spots against a black coat and the demeanor of a creature many times its size. It comes trotting out from the back of the vessel with a comfortable strut that indicates it feels very much at home here. It has sideways slitted eyes and a little beard at the tip of its chin. It is a goat.
“What is this? I thought we weren’t allowed pets.”
“He’s not a pet. He’s an emotional support goat,” he says. “ESG.”
“Where has that been the entire voyage?”
“In my cabin providing emotional support.”
“Oh.”
This really explains some of the more dubious sounds I’ve heard emitting from Steve’s cabin. This is not a large vessel in terms of personal space, and it is an unwritten rule that you really don’t ask what’s going on in another crewmember’s cabin.
The goat is eager to emerge out into alien territory. It stamps and paws with its little cloven hoof, bleating happily. I am a little relieved to realize that I am not going to be left on my own, but realistically, the goat makes very little difference. If things go wrong out there, I’m going to have nothing but an emotional support goat that barely comes up to my knee to help.
“What’s her name?”
“His name is Bilbo. He’s a good listener,” Steve says. “You take care of Penelope,” he tells the goat.
Bilbo makes a goat sound and head butts the door.
“Shouldn’t he have a leash or something? What if he runs away?”
“Bilbo knows what his job is. He won’t leave your side. Don’t worry.” Steve presses the button that opens the door. Alien sun streams in through the aperture. This is a hallowed moment, a sort of…
“Baaahhhehhh!”
Bilbo launches out of the door before any of us can stop him. He has the honor of being the first to take a keen mouthful of random alien foliage that is growing thick around the base of the ship with incredible, and I might even say concerning, speed.
“I thought you said he wouldn’t leave my side?”
“He’s not gone too far,” Steve says. “Bilbo was bred to keep a human company. He knows his job.”
“He must have been so bored cooped up in your cabin all this time!”
Steve shrugs. “I have a treadmill to exercise him. He ate the belt and spent the rest of the time bouncing off the walls.”
“That does explain the thudding. I thought you and Captain Kurt were…” I trail off because Steve doesn’t look amused. He and Kurt may have separate cabins, but they share a life. It’s supposed to be a secret for reasons best known to themselves, but when you share a ship with two men who can’t keep their hands off one another, pretending not to notice starts to wear thin. I bet they can’t wait to get rid of me and be on their way.
