The Legends of Twisted Felix Katt (Book 3)

(14) Making Order Out of Chaos

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it – Henry David Thoreau

Small details can make your day feel like a success or an unmitigated disaster. Do you think you'll need more than one guess to figure out the kind of details making up my day thus far? Somehow I've jumped past unmitigated disaster and landed with both feet in the straight to T.V bad catastrophe movie category. I've dealt with the vacuum of space all my life almost, so working around it has become second nature to me now. But what you might have failed to keep in mind (I certainly forgot) is that I'm used to working around this kind of thing when I have a fully trained, fully grown and kick ass adult body. Big 'lix is six foot and I'm not telling you how much I weigh because it's somewhere between a lot and not as much as I could weigh, and that's all I care to know. I'm not blubbery and beyond that I don't care. But that body of mine simply isn't HERE right now. I might be generous when I call my six year old body three feet tall, puberty gave me a lot more than breasts, an inferiority complex and weird body smells; I'd also shot up like an over fuelled rocket. If memory serves, Temper had done the same thing, or at least I assume my pain in the ass sister had gotten the height she has now from puberty because when I left she looked identical to how I'm stuck now. The reason I'm waxing eloquent on my severe lack of height and simple body mass right now is due to the fact that all, and I do mean ALL of my rebreathers are adult sized, so the moment the vacuum hit, my source of air gets torn out from between my teeth so fast I actually lose one of the pearly suckers. One tooth down and some length of pride lost I realize that one, small detail that is actually a big freaking flaw in my plan. And not just the whole I have no air thing. The sloop is kept from scratching up the cargo bay doors by the holders I've clipped to it as it floats in front of the air lock. How it in the name of Goddess' perky tits am I supposed to unclip it while I'm tied up over here? My mental count down is already at twenty-four clicks and I don't like opening my cargo all that much so restarting is just not an option. Air, I definitely need air. And a plan. That would help too, especially if it's a plan that doesn't suck.

Well I don't exactly have a plethora of ideas jumping out at me so I do the unbelievably stupid inevitable. I untie myself. That's right, my Wilie. E. Coyote genius plan is to aim in the direction of the sloop, let the vacuum of space pull me towards it, hope to Goddess I don't miss, find a handhold, then tie myself to the harness and unhook the pirate ship. And only twenty clicks to do it in. Guess I'm wearing the 'this plan is so bad it HAS to be mine' hat today. Since I want to do this before I asphyxiate on space it's as simple as letting go. So after I pry my fingers off the bars it's nothing but net. Remember how not too long ago I said I liked the sensation of being zero G? Yeah, this cures me of that no doubt. I can feel my stomach rebel the moment I let go because without gravity and with the sense of being tossed tits over tea kettle, my entire body felt a little like I was falling to my inglorious death. And then to my vast happiness I manage to actually hit something, albeit a little harder than is particularly fun. Might be playing a game of 'is it broken or just badly bruised' later. Of course, if I don't survive the next few seconds, it'll be a moot point so I just get to suck it up for now. Even with my ship's life support system doing it's best to try and supply air to all of outer space I'm freezing and my skin feels burned. The moment it stops hurting I really need to be afraid. My nail rips as I jerk loose the last restraints on the sloop, other hand firmly around the anchor rope keeping me from my death. The second the sloop clears the cargo hold doors they close and I can haul in a really painful breath. And then vomit on myself. Bless. The zero grav helps in this case, once I'm done puking I can simply guide a waste bag over it before it hits anything. Still gross though, still gross. And it finally occurs to me that I'm not the one who pushed the door close button.

“Are you alright Captain?” Wanda's little girl voice sounds ridiculously similar to her normal adult Wanda voice. That's not fair.

“I feel as discombobulated as a chameleon in a bowel full of skittles but other than that I'm hunky dory. You?” The sarcasm is instinctive for me but using the little kid phrase kind of surprises even me. And yeah, I really did forget that Wanda and Dandy are crew now and that means I could have asked for their help at anytime. I didn't need to go through any of this. Mmmm fresh crow, so tasty.