The Boys from 27

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Bartholomew Brent was unknowingly about to put this belief to the test.

Bartee did not enjoy going out into the maw of open space; in fact, he hated every moment spent cleaning outside Fuel Station 27.

He reviled the ancient warn space suit, which rubbed certain bits of his anatomy raw because it was two sizes too small. He abhorred the tether line that held him safely to the ship but caught on every sticky-out bit possible. He detested the vacuum unit he had to drag behind, which would block if required to suck up a dust particle. But most of all, he despised his crewmates, who could easily be seen when passing the habitat widows. There they sat comfortable and warm inside the station, having coffee, eating hot chips, and enjoying the dreadful time he was enduring.

Unfortunately for Bartee, during their weekly staff meetings, he nor the other two crew onboard the ‘Flue It Up - Station 27’ ever put their hand up with a bright, cheery-faced smile and volunteered with an “Oh yes, please, sir, let me be the one who goes out into the dark, cold void of space and scrap off all the muck and yuck smeared over the outside of this floating toilette!”

When the job came about, which it inevitably did every two weeks, the three staff members or ‘The Boys of 27’ played their version of Russian Roulette to see which sucker would experience the delights of open space cleaning.

For some reason, this enchanting job had befallen Bartee the last three times. He suspected something was up but could prove nothing. Even when they used space cockroaches in a running race, last over the line wins the job. Bart had been stunned into disbelief when his little roach took four little steps over the start line, then curled up and died whilst the other two ran straight for the finish line.

The same happened with the ‘Who could drink a bottle of chilli juice the fastest’ competition. The other two drank theirs like water, whilst Bartee almost burnt his lips off, and for days after, his digestive system paid terribly for the few mouthfuls hid did manage to swallow.

The youngest of the three crew members had thought miniature table golf was going to be a shoo-in for him, but when his golf ball was pounced on by a space slug who took it back to its nest in one of the air vents, Bartee just gave up and accepted his fate.

------

“Has he done the yellow patch yet?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Coffee ready?”

“Oh, in about five minutes, it will be.”

“Chips?

“Martin, what did your last droid die from, hey? Have I ever not prepared the chips and coffee in time, hmm?”

Felix liked to have everything done in a particular way, ‘his particular way’. That’s why he was the fuel stations engineer and had three buttons to push, and the other two only had one. It was also why Bartee was outside collecting Felix’s unique samples and cleaning gloop off the outside of the fuel station and why he and Martin were on the inside watching.

“Do ya think the golden-haired boys’ suspicious about the competitions?” A slice of apple was transferred from Martin’s knife to his lips.

“Oh please,” Felix snorted as he bent down to look under the oven’s grill, checking the little roasting black balls, “Do you know how long it took me to paint that slug’s egg so it looked like a golf ball? To distil the anaesthetic to alleviate pain from drinking chilli juice, or even to find a cockroach with heart complications?” Standing tall, the lean Felix sarcastically sneered at his crewmate, “He, like you, has no idea.”

Martin had to agree. He had no idea how Felix did all the things he did. More to the point, he didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t him outside in space, that was all that mattered.

Another slice of apple was cut with his hunting knife. Martin wanted to think of himself as a space cowboy, free to wander the edges of the universe, finding pleasure and adventure wherever he roamed. His knife suited that belief, even though it was quite uncomfortably large, and he was only allowed to wear it whilst in the habitat quarters.

The second in charge wasn’t bad looking in a nondescript dark-haired, brown-eyed chubby sort of way and his score rate with the ladies wasn’t too dismal if they were a bit tipsy, and the club was dark. Martin was an individual who took advantage of situations and, by nature, never found his true calling. He was either busy getting into a situation that would inevitably blow up in his face and then be busy trying to get out of it. What Martin really was, was stuck! Just like Felix and Bartee.

They were stuck out here in deep space earning second-rate pay from a third-rate company to do a fourth-rate job. As he slipped yet another slice of apple into his mouth, Martin watched Felix at work grinding the little dark roasted beans. And that was the problem. All three of them just watched; they never did. They watched the giant deep-space ships drift past them off to some other world to find something interesting. They watched the massive mining ships float past to gorge themselves on some uninhabitable planet. They watched the builders zoom out to build new space stations expanding humankind into the great dark unknown. And all the time, the ‘Boys of 27’ simply filled these ships with fuel and then watched them leave, taking the ‘Boys’ youth, vitality and will to live with them.

-----

“He’s a weird little oik, isn’t he!”

“Who?” Felix was now percolating the coffee.

“Bartee.”

The thrown apple core landed in the bin by Felix’s leg. “Why do you say that?” was his only acknowledgement.

“Well, you know. He’s just so …full of himself. So happy and helpful and chummy. He’s just so…” Martin struggled to find the right words, “bloody annoying!”

The coffee pot was held mid-air as Felix sighed and looked out the small portal window above the stove, checking if Bartee was in sight. Felix had heard this all before. Martin was a good worker, but deep space was not for him. “Is it because he’s young and built like Nordic God, and you’re a bit old, fat and flabby?”

You could tell a lot about a person around the three months in deep-space stage. That’s when people either cracked up and went space crazy or depression set in, and they began questioning their purpose in life or hating everyone else who had one.

Scowling, Martin used his knife to clean his fingernails and mumbled, “He’s not that good-looking.”

“No, he’s not. Not good looking at all. Can’t understand why all the girlies on the ships line up to hand us the paperwork when he’s on deck.” Felix smiled, “Don’t see them lining up for you, though.”

“Shut up and get the coffee ready; the little plonka is gonna be coming past this window in a minute.”

----

Bartee didn’t feel very ‘God-like. He had collected all the samples that Felix had asked for, ensuring the jars' lids were tightly screwed on. And now, there was no longer any chance of putting the last job off, which meant he’d be in full view of the habitat window.

Sighing deeply, Bartee pulled himself along the rail. He refused to look straight into the habitat quarters, but his peripheral vision still picked up both his crew mates holding their coffee cups up to their lips as a plate of hot chips was handed from Felix to Martin.

“Just keep looking at the fuel pump; just keep looking at the fuel pump.”

For some reason, the worst job would only collect behind one of the fuel station’s pumps. You prayed this would be the fortnight when it would miraculously not be there. But deep in Bartee’s soul, he knew it would be. Like the cockroach, chilli juice and golf ball, the disgusting yellow gloop would be waiting to happen to him.

His new calming mantra kept Bartee from losing his cool and screaming down the com to Felix and Martin that they could shove their job.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that he would be dangling out over the ship when he had to clean, which pushed him close to the edge. Nor because any slip or breakage in the safe line would send him tumbling into darkness, forever lost. No, he was pushed close to breaking point because if the yellow gloop was not handled correctly, it fragmented into a thousand little icicles, which then became attracted to his suit. Trying to get the yellow stuff off once inside the gravity field was just hell. It warmed up and turned into a liquid that stuck to everything, including your hair and skin—staining it a bright canary yellow for at least a fortnight of hot showers. It also meant spending more time outside; whilst inside, the crew stood at the window with big grins looking at you pick off little yellow shards until you almost ran out of oxygen.

“Just keep looking at the fuel pump; just keep looking at the fuel pump, and hopefully, they’ll choke on their precious coffees.”

The clip for the safety line was checked to ensure it was completely secure. Then Bartee double-checked the most crucial fixture of his cleaning arsenal, his minivac; yep, that little flying brick would be worth its weight in gold when it came to this job.

Inching his way around the outer casing Bartee was sure not to let go of the rail. Even though the safety line was more than capable of holding him to the ship, he never wanted to put it to the test. Best to keep hands on the rails and shimmy out from the fuel pump letting his legs dangle into space as he went around the outer casing and then let his magnetic boots step back safely onto the ship. All done with precision and care.

-----

“What the hell?”

“What?” Felix looked up from his cage of space weevils. Two were being trained in wrestling moves, while the third was being fed extra porridge to get him nice, fat, and lazy.

Martin walked closer to the habitats window, the one he loved watching Bartee from. “Just then, the minivac. I’m pretty sure it just flew past?”

“Better not have; I have to fill out three forms in triplicate to get that damn thing replaced!” Felix was not one for paperwork. “Can you see Bart?”

Both crew members looked closely through the double-thick glass.

“Where’s his tether line?” Martin applied his nose to the glass. “Give him ahoy and let him know he’s dropped the vac.”

Felix switched the com up for on and was rewarded with a horrifying scream; it echoed around the room and made Martin step quickly back from the glass, yelling, “Haul him in, haul him in”, as he pushed the station’s alarm button. Internally the lights changed, casting a red flashing hue over everything.

Never had Felix ever bothered to run to the inner cargo doors, but there was always a first time for everything. He flipped the retrieval switch, pulling at Bartee’s safety line and dragging him back into the protection of the fuel station. “

Bart, I’m hauling you in.” The commlink was now quiet. Deathly quiet.

“Can you see him?” Felix’s nerves forced his hands to shake as he yelled out to Martin, whose nose was now pressed hard against the habitat’s window as he searched desperately for any sign of his crew member.

“Nope. But I just saw some movement behind the fuel pump casing.” Martin ran the short corridor to join Felix at the cargo door. “It’s no good; one of us will have to go out and get him.”

“Let’s do paper scissor rock!”

Martin stood still for a moment to contemplate the suggestion. “Felix, not now. You’re the commanding engineer; it’s your job!”

“Martin, thank you for reminding me of my command. And as” Felix raised two fingers on either hand then air quoted, “commanding engineer” my first command will be pretty straightforward.”

Martin nodded; he pulled Felix’s space suit down from the wall.

“As you know, you are a junior service crew, so I command you to go out into space and rescue Bartee. Use my suit; I don’t mind.” Felix smiled and pulled Martin’s helmet down from the wall.

A loud and deeply resonating clunk echoed outside and into the cargo bay.

“What was that?”

Felix didn’t want to say it, but his anxiety pushed the thought out through his voice box. “The external cargo doors are opening.”

Another loud clunk echoed out.

“And now they’re closing.” Felix and Martin took a step backwards towards the cargo bay exit hatch.

Cogs began whirring, unlocking the bolts on the hatchets steel reinforced frame. Martin pulled his knife out of its sheath.

The tether line retrieval stopped at a grinding halt. Felix took a step behind Martin and his knife, holding his crew members helmet up, ready to throw at whatever came through the hatch. “The lines in, and Bart’s not on the end of it. I don’t know what’s coming through that door, but it ain’t Bartee!”

A heavy rasping breath echoed from the opening cargo bay cavity as the hatch door opened inwards.

Yelling, “Come on, ya bastard, I’ll show ya what the ‘Boys from 27’ can do!” Martin flipped his knife from one hand to the other in a show of dexterity.

Felix looked impressed, right up to the point where a clank marked the knife hitting the ground in a reverberating ricochet. “Oh, shit!” was squealed out by the weapon-less ‘Boys from 27’ as the hatch door flung open, and Bartee stumbled through, scratching the remnants of a white sucker-covered tentacle wrapped around his neck and air regulator.

Leaning back on the door, the young spacewalker kicked it shut and then pointed at his cowering crew. “Couldn’t you hear me screaming for help?”

Letting go of each other’s hands, the crew answered honestly, “No”.

“Well-known fact, nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space.” Martin ducked down, picked up his knife and sheepishly slipped it back into its sheath, avoiding Felix’s arched eyebrow and discerning eye.

“Or so they say.” Retorted Felix, who subtly reached back to check it wasn’t brown trouser time.

Pulling hard at the stretchy, suckered tentacle, Bartee wheezed, “I was screaming and yelling, and you’re telling me you couldn’t hear me on the commlink?” Finally, the suckers gave up the fight and popped off the air regulator; Bart threw it on the floor with disgust, took a deep, easy breath, and then reproachfully lectured his crewmates, “I nearly died out there!”

“Commlink was off.” Martin pointed to Felix and awkwardly commented. “He’s the engineer in command.”

“You smarmy git!” Felix pushed Martin to the side, “I’m not the one who said Bartee’s voice sounds like a blowfly in a bottle; turn the commlink off, now was I!”

Martin smiled broadly at Bartee whilst sauntering forwards to help him remove his bulky helmet, carefully avoiding the tentacle squirming around on the floor. “But you’re all right now, mate, aren’t you? Hey! Ya had a bit of an adventure, didn’t ya? But now you’re safe, back inside with your old pals Marty and Felix!”

A loud and deeply resonating eternal clunk echoed into the cargo bay.

The ’Boys from 27’ froze like deer in headlights.

“Felix, what was that?” asked Martin, who gripped Bartee’s suited arm.

Felix locked the hatch door, saying, “Outer cargo bay doors.”

“Bartee, old mate. You locked the outer bay doors when you came through, didn’t you?” Martin started to take slow steps back from his good ol’ mate Bartee.

Joining his crew in a slow waltz backwards, Bartee deliberately shook his head. “Of course, I didn’t lock it. I was busy fighting to get back inside the ship in one piece!”

The outer cargo bay doors clunked forcefully closed as the crew, in unison, turned and bolted through the habitation airlock door, slammed it shut, and then spinning the handle like they were on ‘Wheel of Fortune.

It was difficult for three grown men to look through a portal hole no bigger than a dinner plate, but somehow, they managed. Martin stood on a chair so he could look over Bart’s broad shoulders, Bartee stood holding the handle shut whilst Felix held up his phone’s camera and watched.

“Bartee, what attacked you?” Martin shivered as he balanced his frame on top of the kitchen chair.

“It was all tentacles and was spraying the yellow goop behind the fuel pump. As soon as I came around the corner, it saw me with this one big hideous eye and then screamed for my blood.”

Patting Bartee’s shoulder, Felix corrected the foolish youth. “Space is a vacuum. You can’t hear anything. Sound can’t travel through an empty void!”

Bartee grabbed Felix’s phoned and eyeballed him through the camera. “Unlike you, it had its commlink on! I heard it scream, and it heard me!”

“Sorry, mate.” Marty tried to sound sincere, but it wasn’t working.

Nodding in untruthful shame, Felix repented, “I’ll report us both to the head engineer!”

“You’re the head engineer.” Bartee couldn’t believe they thought he had fallen for that one.

Raising his eyebrows, Felix sighed, “Worth a try.” Then turned his phone’s camera back to the doors class portal, which was taken up by a giant purple eyeball.

“Aaaaahhh”, bounced around the habitat room in a high-pitched resonating wail. The ‘Boys of 27’ scrambled over each other to be the first to stand the furthermost away from the orb.

The eyeball blinked. Then Bartee’s suit speakers came to crackling life with clicks, squeaks and squeals.

“It sounds angry!”

“Marty, how the living bejinkies can you possibly tell?” Bartee pointed to the door as the handle began slowly spinning.

Marty readied his knife by his side once more, “Oh, I don’t know. I think the eye and how it’s squinting at you gives it away.”

The doors handle began to spin faster. Each crew member frantically looked around for a weapon or a place to hide. It didn’t have to be a good place, just good enough to hide in whilst the monster, filled itself up on the other two crew! And then, when the white and purple-eyed seven-leg octopus was asleep in a food coma, they, the last survivor, could come out from said hiding spot and make a break for it.

Crashing to the back wall, the door slammed open, and, in its portal, stood a purple-eyed octopus with two legs, dressed in quite a nice fine gold woven material space suit with a dapper knee-high boot. The monster squeaked and squawked whilst three of its arms pointed to a yellow stain on the middle of its chest. A fourth and fifth arm pointed at Bartee whilst the other two held the gaping hole where its eighth should be.

Felix yelled back, smiling as pleasantly as he could, palms open wide for the honest impact. “We have no money. We only have supplies. You take what you want but don’t defile us! Please, please keep your probes away from our soft bits.”

The horrifying monster stood still and blinked its one eye a couple of times before one tentacle indicated they should wait as three others fiddled with a small metallic platelet on its chest.

“Sorry,” it spoke in perfect English, “Com translator is a bit blocked thanks to that pervert over there.” Three tentacles pointed directly at Bartee, who blushed and looked at the other two crew. “A man can’t take a pee in private without some weird perv coming around the corner and surprising you! Look at what you made me do.” The monster pointed with four arms to the yellow stain on his shirt. “You made me pee all over myself!”

For the first time in quite a number of months, the crew had nothing to say.

The slightly peeved monster continued, “And look, I dropped an arm off! The least you could say is thanks for rescuing me, so I didn’t go hurtling off into space.” The purple eye looked around the habitat cabin taking in all of Felix’s sample jars. “Why are your living quarters full of jars with poop in them?”

“Scientific research.” Felix shuffled the coffee grinder behind him, but not before the big purple eye had noticed.

The alien’s big round head moved in a sniffing motion, “Eww, I bet you’re touching it when you’re drying it; that’s disgusting.”

Felix pushed the two coffee cups behind him with the grinder but not before Martin and Bartee noticed. “Why are you doing that?” was innocently asked by the younger of the two.

“No reason.”

Bartee turned to the monster, “Would you like a cup of coffee? We roast our own.”

“No, I don’t think he would.” Was Felix’s quick response.

Much to Felix’s relief, and before the conversation could get fascinating, a dark shadow passed over the outer habitat window catching the attention of everyone.

“Oh, shit!” was the only response from a now unblocked com translator.

The “Boys from 27” turned to the octopus man, whose eye was wide and full of concern. Martin was the first to ask the question they were all thinking. “What’s that massive shadow from?”

Octopus man’s tentacles shivered as he shrugged. “No one, really. I’d just stay quiet and let them go on their way!” Looking around the five-buttoned control panel, he enquired nonchalantly, “You wouldn’t happen to have any, I don’t know, missiles on board… would you?”

As one, the ‘Boys from 27’ gathered in a tight huddle, slowly shaking their heads in the negative.

A loud and deeply resonating eternal clunk echoed into the cargo bay.

Octopus man shivered and then began sauntering towards the crew. “Oh. That’s a pity. Looks like we’re gonna have to blow your ship up then!”

“Why?” Bartee enquired quietly as the boys backed away towards the escape pod at the end of the habitat quarters. “What happened to just waiting until they leave?”

Octo man followed them in a slow and calm manner, “Well, we could stay. But the people in that ship. They like using probes, and they’re not fussy where they stick them. And I, for one, do not want to have my internal organs shown to me. So, if your public toilet has a detonation switch, we better flip it and go.”

“Why would they want to probe us?” Felix squeaked the thoughts of the other two crew.

Octo’s big honest purple eye opened wide. “They like hearing people scream!”