( Volume: 3 Arc: "whatserface" 12 Issue: 3/4 )
Chapter 129: at a loss
"We're not seriously going into space, are we?" Joan asked, as they sat in the capsule. The last four hours had been spent loading the creature onto the X-wing, and then flying it over to Texas,
Hank piloting, with Joe (who was apparently able to absorb skills) co-piloting.
Julian had been told he could lift things with his mind, and was assigned the task of loading and unloading the creature, which was now far too fat to move.
"We are," Hank said, from across her.
"Damn. This has got to be a crazy dream," Joan said. "I can't wait to remember who I am—then I can get myself out of this crazy place."
"You may not regain your memory instantaneously, if at all," Hank reminded her. "We do not know what the long-term effects are."
"I don't know about you losers, but I will," Joan said confidently.
…
In the space station, the team received outfits to wear while ejecting the creature; spacesuits, with glass bubble helmets and oxygen systems. The atmosphere was nervous, as no one knew
what would happen after the creature—Larry—was dealt with. Would they remember everything?
Helen had elected to remain on the station, with the children; Joan had instantly volunteered to help evacuate the creature, wishing to space herself from the responsibility the boy had
tried to hoist on her.
Julian stole a glance as Joan pulled her suit on. She'd taken off her jacket and her bulky, oversized sweater to reveal a surprisingly pleasant figure—curvy, like he'd thought, but in a very
streamlined matter, not fat the way the sweater had implied.
"Hey! HEY!" Joan snapped. He realized, with a start, that he'd been staring at her, his hands actually letting go of the zipper he'd been trying to pull up.
She stomped towards him, her upper half consisting of a bra, and her lower half if the spacesuit. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing? This isn't a peep show!" Joan was furious.
"…" he flushed.
"Can't blame a guy for staring," Santo grunted. He didn't need a spacesuit, being—apparently—a psionic entity—so he'd been free to watch his teammates get dressed. No one else had stripped.
"Maybe if you didn't shove them in my face," Julian added, realizing he was still staring at her upper half.
"I've got two layers on! Excuse me for taking them off! Why can't you just give me a little effing privacy?!"
Julian turned away, angry and confused. It suddenly struck him that he was afraid of knowing, for sure, who he was. Then he'd know what relationships went along with his life, and this
pleasant sense of wondering would be gone.
…
They tromped over to the ejection door of the space station. They were going to take the creature to the Earth's moon, as Emma said it had made telepathic arrangements with its kin to be
picked up. She'd added that it was quite embarrassed about this whole mishap.
The space station was a few thousand meters from the moon; and Julian, apparently, could cover the distance in the space of two minutes and thirty seconds. He'd practiced—lifting objects
in the institute, then flying in the Danger Room, with a crash-course on telekinesis from Hank—before they had left.
"Do not linger after it has been picked up," Hank warned them. "Put your helmet on, now. Do not remove your spacesuits under any circumstances. You would get a terrible sunburn, not to
mention you would suffocate in under ten seconds."
"Wasn't planning to," Julian said airily, picking up his helmet. They had waited for this part, as the oxygen supply was limited, and they wanted to leave with the maximum possible.
Hank left, and the seals to the station closed. A voice told them the hatch would open in five minutes. Julian began to raise the helmet, then paused, lowered it, reached over and tapped Joan
on her shoulder. "Hey," he said.
The girl turned, her expression irritated, her fingers wrapped around her helmet as she prepared to put it on. "What?"
He leaned forward and kissed her lightly—more of a peck, really; she let him for a moment, then pulled away. "The hell!"
"Don't get me upset, I'm going to be carrying your ass to the moon and back," he said, grinning as he pulled on his helmet.
The others had pretended not to notice the interaction (and quite possibly hadn't, due to the thick insulation of the spacesuits.
Joan eyed him warily, then pulled on her helmet as well and began to flip the locks.
…
"SLOW DOOOWN!" Joan screamed, as the mess of alien and people hurtled towards the pitted surface of the moon in a wash of green. The enormous distance had taken less time than estimated, as
Julian seemed to be traveling much faster than Hank had suggested he would be able to fly.
"I will when you calm down," Julian said, seemingly annoyed. They slowed, immensely, at the last few seconds, and landed with a soft 'puff' of dust, on their feet; Joan he allowed to fall on her behind.
"…" Joan seemed to be yelling something at him, but she'd forgotten to press the communication button on her space suit. All he heard was a vague, muffled voice yelling something inside her bubble.
"Dude! That was not a few hundred kilometers an hour!" Santo gasped, reforming (he'd come apart in flight).
"Maybe he forgot there's no air resistance," Julian said, shrugging.
The alien's skin beat shallowly, and it looked at them with dull eyes.
"It's probably got a tummy ache from eating your mind," Joan said, wrinkling her nose. "Let's find its posse and get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps, I'm not kidding."
…
"So…let me get this straight," Santo grumbled. "We hurried here—to the moon—to get stood up by a bunch of aliens?"
"I feel like a such loser," Joan said.
"They'll be here, okay?" Julian grumbled.
"Maybe we should just go," Santo said. "From what I hear, you squishies will suffocate when your air runs out. Leaving me stranded, on top of being stood-up. Totally uncool, man."
The alien near their feet wiggled pathetically, its eyes bulging. Pleading.
"Look, can you tell it we have to go?" Julian asked Santo. "It's telepathic…it should have no trouble contacting its buddies."
"Me?! Why me?!"
"You're psionic."
"Psionic, as in entity, dude. I just keep rocks together, that's it."
"That's a good way to describe it," Joan commented sarcastically.
"Crap," Julian mumbled, staring at the alien. "Well…we can't just die out here. And we will if we stay. I think we have to cut our losses and—"
Joan pointed at the alien, her eyes wide. It was changing; it had risen into the air, its green, quivering mass slowly morphing into human-shaped appendages. With a slurpp noise, it finished its
transformation into an average-looking middle aged man, wearing an X-uniform.
"Can't let you guys do that," the man said. "Sorry. Hate to turn on you like this…but I'm working for a higher calling, and it was my duty to report it to them."
Staring.
"…" Joan said something, made an annoyed face, then pressed her communication button. "Who the hell are you?" she repeated.
The man looked relieved. "It's better if you don't remember. Anyways, they should be here any minute."
"Uh…" Julian said.
A noise. The four people looked up, to see a metallic shape similar to a boomerang descending.
"This can't be good," Santo said.
