A Spaceman

Chapter 17--One bad plan deserves another

"There was another murder in the small hours of the morning," I say, in English, coming into the kitchen. I do feel better after running up and down the stairs last night. Darc and Sophie are in the kitchen, cleaning plates from everyone else's breakfast.

"Your omelet, sir," Darc says, setting a plate down on one of the steel tables. He has a folded cloth napkin, cup of water, and silverware waiting.

"I'm eating with you," Sophie sits down.

"Apparently nobody'd ever made her an omelet either," Darc says, sitting down with his own food. "It's egg whites, I thought you would appreciate that. No meat."

"I do----I don't mind meat, but they were gobbling up those sausages you made for them this morning, it was disgusting--- you serve meat at every meal. I don't know how with the supplies we ship in being what they are, but they appreciate it," I say, cutting off a small corner of the omelet. it is egg white, and minimal cheese and some vegetables, not bad. I roll it around in my mouth for a considerable time before swallowing. "I have to hurry, we're having a meeting because I mean clearly somebody on the inside is murdering these people and putting their heads on sticks---we're in the middle of a jungle, we've got a pretty short suspect list---oh my god-------you're killing us one by one, and feeding us to each other until there are few enough of us to escape??? That is seriously your plan?" I ask, laughing accusingly, pointing a fork at Darc.

"Oh, look at me, I'm the poster child for good decision making because I'm starving myself to death and slowly removing my epidermis---"

"What that is seriously your plan?" I scoff, laughing, "Mate, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"And yet it's working," he says, smiling coyly, as he eats his omelet.

"Good thing I'm not eating the food—wait is there person in this?" I point to my plate.

"No, humans are too high calorie I thought you'd object," he says, calmly.

"You're taking this rather well," Sophie says, nervously.

"Like he said, I'm not the poster child for good decision making," I say, taking a bit of the vegetables inside the omelet.

"Are you out or in?" Darc asks.

"In---this is so fucking stupid it'll never work," I laugh, "How many Space Command are going to let you murder them in their beds?"

"Apparently a lot---he does all the murder, I just help move stuff places," Sophie says.

"If it works, then you have to go to 1,500 calories a day," Darc dares.

"You're on," I say, "And I'm helping move stuff places from now on. Fun fact: moving dead bodies burns calories."

"Okay," Sophie says, nodding slowly, "And why do you think this is a good idea?"

"Okay, my methods of dealing with assholes: one, starve myself, two, cut myself, three, shoot myself in the head. Apparently those first two make me 'mentally ill' and I can't mention that last one very much because then words like 'involuntary hospitalization' get thrown around very carelessly by many people-----so, new method---kill them and feed them to each other until there are few enough of them to lock in a room somewhere," I say, numbering off on my fingers before going back to poking the omelet apart to get at the vegetables inside. "You cooked these in butter---no salt?"

"You have a sensitive pallet for a person who misses so many opportunities to enjoy fine cuisine," Darc says.

"I'll take that as a complement, thank you," I say, putting another piece of mushroom in my mouth. "Now, I need to arrange for my family to escape as well when I defect."