The Worst Man on Mars
Lost it in Space

Willie Warner sat in the changing room, his head in his hands. Even the room’s foetid smell couldn’t distract him from his sense of hopelessness and despair. He had removed his helmet but hadn’t yet found the energy to remove the damp space-suit nor the moist boots.

“Whoa, dude,” said Zak Johnston, floating into the room, dreadlocks tangled with headphone wires, all trailing behind. “Hail, Thane of the Stiff-bangers. Watched your latest ‘thing’ with old ma Rothschild out there. Hot stuff.” He grinned and Warner’s head sank lower still. “Props to ya, man. Don’t get me wrong, friend. Dead-granny-shaggin’ ain’t my bag, but you’ll hear no criticism of your fetishism from this guy.”

Willie didn’t respond.

“So, where is the old biddy, now that you two are an item?” Zak peered around the room. “Ain’t ya going to introduce me to the space-kill moose?”

Warner was shaking his head. “I let her go.”

Zak floated closer and stared hard at Willie’s distraught features. “What, you dumped her? You are one callous space-dude. And after what you’d just been through? You guys were written in the stars. Where’ve you stashed her?”

“The smell,” was all that Willie could say. “That awful smell.”

“Yeah, just got a waft of whiff de stiff. Spill dude, where is she?”

Willie sighed and looked unseeingly into the distance. “I managed to haul her as far as the airlock. Got her inside.”

“What d’ya do then, spaceboy?” interrupted Johnston.

“Kissed her goodnight and gave her the taxi fare home,” snapped Willie. “What do you think I did? I closed the outer door, let the air fill and took off my helmet.”

“Sure, I’m hearing yer,” Zak replied, fiddling with the personal stereo that fused external sound with a Bob Marley beat and delivered it directly to his inner ears.

“The smell was awful. You can’t believe how badly she stank.” Willie fanned his nose at the very memory. “And putrid pieces of her kept floating out of her ripped suit. The more she warmed up, the worse it got.”

“Gross Point Zero, man. Wait, I think Gran may have left her calling-card. If I’m not mistaken, I spy a flap of her wrinkly skin stuck to your chin.”

Willie squealed and began swatting wildly at his face like a demented seal.

“Hold on there, cowboy,” said Zak, grabbing his arm, and studying Willie’s chin more closely. “Soz, dude, I am mistaken.”

Willie sighed with relief, took a deep breath and continued. “There was no way I could bring her on board. So I opened up the outer door and pushed her back out into space, sweeping as much of the rotting stuff as I could out after her.”

“Awesome, dog!” said Zak, slapping his thigh and hooting. “Props maximus, man. Wait till Dugdale hears about this shit. He’ll board the train to Explosion City.”

Willie’s head jerked up at Zak. “No, he mustn’t replace out. Please, please don’t tell him. We need to hush it up, Zak. We get three suits ...” He swept a hand to indicate the space-suits strapped to the wall, “... and we fill them with old blankets or something. Then we stow them in InspectaBot’s pod as planned. He’ll never know.”

“Count me out, space ranger.” But then Zak’s eyebrows knitted together and his face brightened with excitement. “Wait! Better still, let’s tell him!”

“Are you crazy?”

“No, but he is.” Zak lowered his voice. “Captain Dug-dude is so losing the plot. Like a one-man, out-of-control locomotive. Your triple-body balls-up could just launch him on the fast road to Madsville. Think George Cukor’s Gaslight.”

“And sending him over the edge is a good thing?”

“To our advantage, dude. Pro us. The moment he’s unfit to lead, we’re in charge. You and me, friend. Kings of the castle.”

Willie frowned, not entirely convinced. But before he could respond, the door had swished open and the devil they were talking of had entered. Dugdale’s expression was not a serene one and Willie looked for a place to hide.

“Weiner!” bawled the commander, his face purple. For Willie, hiding was no longer an option. “What the buggerin’, bollockin’, friggin’ ‘eck did yer think you were doin’ out there??”

“I ...” started Willie, but Dugdale had grabbed him by his spacesuit lapels and pulled him closer.

“What part of ‘you sneak outside and bring stiffs indoors secretly’ didn’t you understand? ‘Appen you thought it’d be a laugh to start flingin’ bodies at t’window where every one o’ passengers could get t’best view.”

Willie tried to breathe in some fresh air, free of Dugdale’s halitosis, but Flint was not done and was wafting more bad breath into his face.

“And, if that weren’t enough! You go and start ’umping the old trout across t’windscreen. By ’eck, Wiggler, I thought Johnston were weird, but yer interplanetary sex act trumps pretty much anything he can come up with.”

“Hey, cap,” interrupted Zak with a wink at Willie. “That’s all old news, sir. Previous episode, man. You need a series catch-up; story’s moved on.”

Dugdale released Willie’s lapels and swivelled to stare at Zak with a mixture of fury and puzzlement. “What yer blitherin’ on about, Johnston?”

“You’re at the last stop, dude, but the train’s pulled into a new station.”

Still Dugdale stared at him in open-mouthed bafflement.

“Yesterday’s papers,” continued Zak, putting his hands behind his head. “Today’s headline, in 50-point boldface, reads: Bodies go missing.”

Dugdale’s mouth dropped open even further. “Bodies what?” he started, and then wheeled to glare at Willie. “I hope fer your sake, Wobbler, that Corky the Clown ‘ere ain’t tellin’ me yer’ve lost t’dead’uns?”

Willie shuddered. “The bodies aren’t missing, as such,” he started, swallowing hard.

“I’m still hearing the words ‘missing’ and ‘bodies’ in the same sentence.”

“We know, in a general way, where they are, sir,” started Willie. “They’re in orbit. It’s just that it’s a, sort of, re-entrant orbit.”

Dugdale’s gigantic hands moved towards Willie, but instead of grabbing the lapels, grasped his scrawny neck instead.

“Think about it, Chief,” intervened Zak. “Last wishes of the Dame dudette fulfilled. Buried on Mars. Good and deep, too, if she happens to hit a soft bit. Or, alternative numero duo, they burn up on re-entry, ashes scattered across the planet. No more bodies … no more paperwork. It’s a win-win!”

Flint continued to glare deep into Warner’s eyes, his hands still encircling his throat. But then his grip slackened.

“You might have a point there, Rastaman,” he growled. Then he looked at both of them. “Not a word to anyone. Gorrit?”

Willie nodded vigorously while Zak looked slightly dismayed at his plan having misfired. Dugdale floated towards the door but then stopped and spun around. “‘Appen, I’ve made up me mind who’s goin’ down t’Mars and who’s stayin’ in this shit-bucket. Wobbler, I’ll give you a clue: you ain’t going.” With that, he turned and pulled himself out of the changing room.

“But,” cried Willie. “You can’t. Nooooooooooo!”