Alfonso Scaralapagus: Astronaut
by Radrook
by Radrook
The six members of the crew of the starship Elegant, the first of the anti matter driven ships to be produced, had been chosen from an elite core of space cadets for the long voyage to Alpha Centauri B. The journey, as viewed from Earth, would be five years. However, the journey as experienced on the ship, would be 2.9999999999999996 years. So they had approx. one more year of ship-time to reach their destination without factoring in the time needed for deceleration, of course.
They were reasonably young, healthy specimens, three males and three females, with a formidable tolerance for frustration. They had been psychologically evaluated and certified to be sound of mind, socially well-adjusted, and had been chosen from among thousands of applicants.
In short, they were considered crème de la crème, as it were, the envy of all the others who had hoped to be chosen, and who were forced to watch them proudly parading past on that eventful date, full of smiles-waving to the crowd who had attended to see them off on such a momentous maiden-voyage to our nearest star.
For this crew of six, who were clipping along at 80% light-speed, it had been two years ship-time into the voyage, all had gone smoothly as planned, and they had all easily settled into the 24-hour routines that mimicked their former earthly schedule.
But unfortunately, after two years of beautifully-coordinated-cooperation, things had suddenly, and unexpectedly, taken a turn for the worse. No, the life-support systems were fine, as well as all other crucial non human factors needed to make the mission a success. Instead, the problem centered around a crewmember named Alfonso Scaralapagus, and no viable solution seemed available.
"What are we going to do?" Mirabella Espinosa, a young Mestiza Latina of 30, and the ship's second-in-command, asked in hushed tones for the one-hundredth time ever since the very serious problem had begun to manifest itself a month before.
Alexander Albertson, the mission's commander, a husky, tall, bald Englishman, and at 48 the oldest member of the crew of four, who had been chosen mostly for his extensive experience in previous solar-system missions to the outer planets, gazed tiredly at her with his exhausted, bloodshot, green eyes, and his typical dour facial expression.
"What would you have me do Espinosa?" he asked worriedly gazing down at her from his relatively great height.
“Eject Scaralapagus from the ship via an airlock?" he continued in a tired monotone.
"No! I’m not suggesting such a drastic measure, sir." Mirabella responded, blushing at the suggestion, and in an offended tone of voice. Prior to the trip, she had taken great pride in being totally unemotional when under pressure. After all, she had remained that way during space exploration emergencies which had almost killed her during an Oort Cloud mission when her spacewalk tether had snapped. So finding herself gradually losing control now, was disturbing.
“No, nothing that drastic sir!" she responded once more, but as emotionlessly as she could.
They both paused in response to the painful groans and moans of the three other crewmembers who had stashed themselves away in their private cubicles. It was the only way they could avoid the rest of the ship, where Alfonso Scaralapagus seemed ever-present.
No, Scaralapagus did not pose a violent threat to any of them. He was totally harmless in that sense. A pacifist actually. He was a man of deep religious beliefs who spent and inordinately amount of time reading religious literature. No, neither was he visually offensive. Quite to the contrary, he was a dark- complexioned, muscular young man of twenty-eight, with thick black wavy hair cropped short in the military fashion of a flattop poised above a chiseled masculine face. No fat-slob either.
He was slender, with not an ounce of padding on his frame. He was also exceedingly intelligent. In fact, he was the smartest one there with degrees in astrophysics, and a doctorate in geology to boot. He had also been chosen for his outstanding record in space exploration, and had been considered an asset until...
"What do you recommend we do?" the captain said tiredly, wrenching Mirabella back to reality.
"Sir, you know that Scaralapagus has been told repeatedly, but he just doesn’t listen. He still thinks it is a joke of some kind. Sure, at first it was. But now this has gone much too far. I think that a strict quarantine is our only option, sir!" she whispered after glancing about and making sure that Scaralapagus was not listening nearby.
The captain, sighed deeply and began pacing the floor slowly and pensively, from bulkhead to bulkhead, head lowered with a deep frown of concern. Of course, he knew she was right. Yet, he felt strange having to take such drastic action against this crewmember. Especially one in whom he had trusted so strongly.
But there was even more involved. He recalled how he had recently promised Scaralapagus's parents at his farewell-party, that he would take care of their son. How this crewmember's parents had embraced him, and how Scaralapagus's mother had tenderly kissed his cheek in appreciation. So the suggested disciplinary action wasn't going to be easy.
"How do you suggest we go about it?” the captain finally stopped pacing, lowered his voice into a low whisper, and tugged Mirabella aside so they would be out of Sacaralagus’s line of sight. True, Scaralapagus was presently going about his business in the far end of the ship, but sound tended to carry easily in the enclosed space.
Additionally, Scaralapagus had developed the annoying habit of spying on conversations. They would catch him leering from around corners. Sometimes he would be found silently staring down on them from the bulkhead above before blasting one and making them all scatter. So the caution was justified.
"Drug him with this!" Mirabella suddenly unclenched her plump fist, displaying three black glossy capsules in the palm of her plump, small hand!"
The captain flinched.
“No, they are not poison!” Mirabella assured him, after noting his nervous reaction.
"Just to put him to sleep. That’s all. Then we seal him in his private quarters for the remainder of the trip! Upon arrival, we set up base and isolate him there as well until he is more cooperative, or cured"
"But that's a crime! We really have no right!"
‘’He is seriously endangering the mission sir! If this continues any longer, none of us will be in any condition to land this ship or set up a base-camp as necessary.”
Noticing that the captain remained reluctant and undecided, she decided to go to the crux of the matter!
“It's either that or having to smell his intestinal gas all the way to Alpha Centauri B sir! Is that what you intend for us to do? Inhale his foul farts for an entire year?" she emphatically swiped at her wide nostrils twice with her forearm to emphasize the point.
During the previous six months, Mirabella, had never spoken to him in that brazen way. Instead she had abided by strict protocol of letting the captain take the decision-making initiative. But he wasn’t totally surprised at her transformation. After all, there is a limit to both human endurance and human patience, and Scaralapagus had gradually taken them to that point.
During the last month, the entire ship’s living quarters had become full of the stench of his flatulence. Yes, they had patiently attempted to reason with him. In fact, they had pleaded with him to try a remedy. But he refused to change his diet or even accept medication such as Maalox or Simethicone in order to reduce the symptoms.
But even more frustrating, was his disrespectful nonchalant attitude. Why, he actually considered it humorous to observe the other five crewmembers cringing and scattering to the far corners of the ship whenever he loudly blasted one. They could all hear him chuckling in the near distance. It sounded like a sadistic, malevolent type of chuckling, which added insult to injury.
"It's the only way!" Mirabella repeated softly and solemnly as the captain began nodding his head affirmatively after a prolonged silence.
Once Scaralapagus had been subdued and sedated, and locked in his quarters, the rest of the mission went on without a hitch. They placed a small curtain over his door’s window so as not to have to see his accusatory stares and baleful expressions of recriminations as he blasted away in his cubicle to his heart’s content
Last edited: