The crash had been grisly. The captain was dead, and the first mate, second mate, third mate, all the way down to the ship’s cat, also called Mate.
But there was still life! Life in the face of a hostile universe. For in the back seats of the ship there had lurked a Competent Man, and when his keen senses had detected the turbulent descent of the spaceship through the atmosphere he had immediately leapt to his feet, seized his two seatmates – a naïve boy and a nubile waif – and stuffed them all inside the luggage compartment for safekeeping, which he naturally knew would work thanks to his nigh-innate and extensive knowledge of everything.
Yes, it was thanks to the Competent Man that they were all still breathing, and he intended to keep them that way as long as possible as long as they understood that it was so.
“First things first,” he said, heroically surveying the landscape with his thumbs tucked into his belt like nobody’s business, “we need to locate a source of fuel. Those trees over there look likely. Naïve boy, you start clearing the rubble away from the engine compartment – the nubile waif can help by moving the tiny pieces, as her biology prohibits light work or creative thought. I’ll make an axe with these hull fragments and then go timbering.”
“Should we-” began the naïve boy, and the Competent Man punched him square in the nose as hard as humanly possible.
“We’re in an emergency situation and I’m in charge because I am the most competent of you all,” said the Competent Man extremely calmly while wiping blood off his knuckles. “It’s the only reasonable course of action. Now get going while I work on keeping us all alive. I have a plan.”
And so they did what the Competent Man had told them to, because it was clearly the only reasonable course of action because he was so competent. By day’s end the engine compartment was nearly accessible and there was a tidy supply of firewood, which the Competent Man ordered built into a great bonfire.
“Boyo I’m bushed,” said the Competent Man, stretching out. “Nubile waif, cook us dinner.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Wow, you didn’t expect to do that?” asked the Competent Man, shaking his head in disbelief. “Obviously since you haven’t done anything worthwhile all day you’ve got energy to spare and can be put to labour now. And besides, your brain is developed to give you the satisfaction from housework that you don’t get from sex.”
“I didn’t do much all day because you told me not t-”
The Competent Man sighed loudly and broke a piece of firewood over his thigh. They stopped questioning him in the face of his incredibly reasonable argument.
The meal wasn’t that good. The nubile waif didn’t know how to cook, as the Competent Man helpfully pointed out.
***
“Alrighty then. It’s a new day, we’re safe from predators because we have fire – proof of man’s mastery over nature, and nobody is more man than I – and now we can make a furnace.”
“Why?” asked the nubile waif.
“We’ll build it out of the scrap you two cleared out yesterday.”
“Why?” asked the naïve boy.
The competent man casually backhanded him. “Don’t question my decisions. We’re going to smelt down ore from the hill we crashed on and use it to start rebuilding the engine. Obviously.”
“But how do you know that’s the right place to find ore, or the right kind of ore, or-” asked the nubile waif.
“Naturally I’ve got vast knowledge of geology and chemistry,” chuckled the Competent Man, waving away her objections with one hand and grabbing at her ass with the other. “A simple eyeballing of the landscape allows me to pinpoint that this hill is obviously a rich source of chromium-94, which we can smelt with the copper undoubtedly mingled with it straight into a hyperfloom alloy that will be IDEAL for shipwork. Now go pick some berries for lunch; me and the naïve boy need to make a smelter from scratch using scrap metal, which of course I know how to do because I have a penis and am confident about that.”
The smelter was up and running before day’s end, and their first wiring components were being drawn out with freshly-forged tongs by the time dinner was served.
The berries gave the naïve boy indigestion, which the Competent Man said was no doubt due to his soft and effete upbringing.
***
And so the rhythm of survival was set. Each morning the naïve boy and the nubile waif awoke and learned of a new marvel to be commissioned at the hands of the Competent Man.
“Today we make batteries,” he said.
“Out of what?” asked the nubile waif.
“Naïve boy, follow me.”
“Where?”
The Competent Man smacked him one affectionately. “To harvest the local pitcher-plants! Obviously their gullets are full of a substance at the exact PH to be used as acid, and we can repurpose their structures as hulls for the batteries anyways. Simple work.”
“How do you possibly know that’s true?” asked the nubile waif.
“Afterwards we can get working on booting up a generator. Nubile waif, that grove on top of the hill looked like it’ll provide edible nuts. Don’t forage too far afield or you might be attacked by wild beasts.”
The nuts were delicious, but the nubile waif didn’t crush them into a flour for pancakes, which the Competent Man said would’ve been the most obvious way to prepare them.
“Today we grind lenses,” he said.
“How?” asked the naïve boy.
The Competent Man sighed and punched him in the gut. “Lifeboat rules, you follow my lead. Nubile waif, tear up your clothing for tinder, we’re running low on fire materials.”
“Why is it just m-”
“Onwards!” said the Competent Man, and by day’s end they had made some simple lenses with which to recalibrate the laser spectroflexor, which was already being put to use in repairing the damage to the inner hull.
The nubile waif had torn up some spare jumpers she found inside the cargo compartment for tinder. “These aren’t nearly as worn and flammable as your clothing would’ve been,” said the Competent Man disapprovingly. “Honestly, I don’t know how these ideas get into your silly little head.”
“These didn’t fit any of us and I didn’t want to be naked.”
“Adorable,” he chuckled, and he patted her on the head with one hand and grabbed at her ass with the other.
“Today we will rebuild the starchart,” he said.
“You know how to program?” said the nubile waif.
“Naïve boy, you’re in charge of recording all the stars the moment they come out using this tablet I’ve crafted from the clay pit just south near the pond. Nubile waif, you can check on him every half-hour to make sure he’s paying attention. Just bat your lashes at him and he’ll wake right up.”
“I don’t really know much about astrono-” said the naïve boy, as the Competent Man slugged him one.
“Honestly, just use your brain and your gut and your penis and your ineffable power of being correct,” he admonished him gently. “I’ll be busy calibrating the ship’s computer to accept the new data. Oh, and nubile waif, no hanky-panky beyond batting lashes. As the senior male here it’s biologically unsound for me to permit you two to mate.”
The star-tablet turned out surprisingly well. The nubile waif said that was because her graduate dissertation had been on xenoastronomy; the naïve boy said it was because she did it instead of him and really he should be the one cooking since he was a chef; the Competent Man said it was because the ship’s computer didn’t need any of the data and he’d just wanted both of them out of his hair while he did the real and important work in peace and quiet.
“Today we hunt,” he said.
“What?” said the naïve boy. “Why? We don’t need more food, the forage provides us with plenty of-”
“To make sure we don’t lose our edge,” said the Competent Man, smacking him idly on the head. “A man is a hunter, and a hunter must hunt. If we just live off flowers all day we’ll lose the vigour and rigour needed to escape this planet. Grab a spear and follow me and do everything I say or you’ll mess this up. Nubile waif, stoke the fires for us. Don’t use the big axe if you want more fuel, just pick up sticks or something. Would hate for you to hurt yourself.”
They spent all day and didn’t kill anything bigger than a sparrow. The Competent Man pointed out it was because the naïve boy was louder than an elephant and as subtle as a spaceship take-off.
***
Thirty-one days after the spaceship had crashed to the ground in a ball of molten metal and broken hopes, it stood heroically intact once more, ready to seize the skies and hurl itself home.
“All tests are good, and by all tests I mean I know it’s done and done properly, because I’ve done it,” said the Competent Man. “It’s like I’ve always said: the universe always gives you back exactly what you put into it, and nobody puts more into it than me! Now let’s get the hell out of here and sell this place’s mineral rights for a staggering fortune, of which I will generously gift a small stipend to you both.”
“Lead the way, I guess,” said the naïve boy.
“Ladies first,” said the Competent Man, gesturing at the gangplank with one hand and grabbing at the nubile waif’s ass with the other, and as she danced away from his grip a nearby tree – surprisingly untouched by the rigorous logging that had occurred nearby for the past month – finally gave up the ghost and toppled over on top of the spaceship, crashing straight through its center and annihilating the engine utterly.
“Urk,” said the Competent Man.
“Well, it’ll be okay,” said the naïve boy. “I saw a nice place to build a cabin back there near the lake.”
“Aglfgl,” said the Competent Man. His lip bulged, and a thin trickle of mixed drool and blood slid over it.
“Maybe we can repair it?” suggested the nubile waif. “I mean, we’ve managed to handle this so far.”
“GLORT!” screamed the Competent Man, and he picked up the nearest fragment of debris and set about clobbering the ship, the ground, himself, and the other survivors in that order.
Thankfully it wasn’t the sharpest fragment of debris.
That was the one within arm’s reach of the nubile waif.
***
It wasn’t such a bad planet, not really. Oxygen, carbon-compatible yet not overly-hostile forms of life. Plentiful water.
And it helped that they had a food supply to keep them going while they got started. The Competent Man had been a bit gritty but he was still fairly digestible, as long as you were willing to overlook the nasty bits.