Ship of Fools - Chapter 28
A Bitter Parting
[Start at the beginning of the novel: Prologue.]
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Welcome back to Ship of Fools, my satire about a science journalist trying to make sense of conspiracy theorists, flat-earthers, moon-landing deniers, New Agers, and more.
Having been run off the ranch by a passel o’ Nazis, Slim and Shorty face a fateful decision.
SLIM AND SHORTY stood awkwardly outside Lupe’s sister’s modest home, Lupe nearby, the sun just coming up over the mesquites, the near-tropical humidity already making collars and armpits damp. A white SpaceOut van sat at the curb, its driver having a vape outside the vehicle while enjoying the sunrise.
“Well, Shorty, I reckon this is it,” said Slim.
“I reckon it is, Slim,” Shorty replied.
The longtime pardners kicked the bare dirt of the front yard with the toes of their boots, looking off at the line of trees marking the course of the Rio Grande.
They’d come to this parting after days of deliberation. Mr. Ester’s security team had dug into the hydra-headed Neo-Nazi movement and discovered them to be embedded all across the country, especially among the local Border Patrol and ICE agents — pinche migra to Lupe and her sister — agents who now held extensive extra-judicial powers, second only to the Gestapo and KGB of the previous century, gained during the country’s many spasms of abandoning civil rights in favor of security from terrorists, real or imagined. Ester’s team thought it best that the pardners spend some time off-planet.
“Wait a minute,” Slim said when he got the news. “You’re telling me there’s some sorta nationwide Nazi conspiracy that’s infiltrated the federal government?”
“Conspiracy might be too strong a word,” Ester’s assistant said on the other end of the line. “Let’s call it a loosely affiliated cluster of individuals with an ideological affinity and shared strategic goals. The point is, there are enough of them, and they’ve taken enough of an interest in the two of you, that we’re concerned for your safety.”
Ester had found spots for them doing security work on Tranquility Base, a US-EU-Space Out public/private partnership where Ester called most of the shots.
“Reckon it wouldn’t be bad to see what that space travel is all about,” said Slim.
“You’re not gettin’ me in one o’ them tin cans,” said Shorty. “I need to breathe the free air, feel the sun on my face without fear of expiring immediately from the gamma rays. ’Sides, the moon is a mite close to ol’ Lonnie’s central operations for my taste. Too much chance I’d tell him what I really think o’ billionaires, and then where’d we be?”
That settled it, the pardners would pard ways, at least for the time being.
“Look at you two, standing there not knowing what to say,” said Lupe. “Qué macho! Qué hombres!”
“Come on, Lupe,” said Shorty, grinning. “It’s not like he’s goin’ to the moon.”
She stamped her foot with a groan, then ran to Slim and hugged him, the cowpoke returning this display of affection with light pats on her shoulders. Lupe let him go and retreated into the house, giving Shorty an irate look along the way.
“So long, Slim.”
“So long, Shorty. Don’t get into any trouble without me.”
With that, Slim turned to the van, threw his duffel inside, and got in after, leaving Shorty squinting into the sun as the van pulled away.
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What does the future hold for our brave cowboys?
Next up: Chapter 29, “Wandering in Samsara,” in which Sarge acclimates slowly to life in Antarctica and the growing realization that he might never find the Ice Wall.