Canto Ten – Aboard Golden Wing Sixteen Near an Abandoned Space Station
Looking for interesting places to explore, the tadpole crew of Wing Sixteen spotted the abandoned orbital station before sensors could detect it. The sensors were set to find life-forms, lizard men in particular, and the instruments all said that none existed on the space platform. In fact, it was apparently devoid of all life but a few plants.
“Can you dock with that thing?” Tanith asked George Jetson.
“Of course I can. I am programmed to be the best wing pilot you have ever seen.”
“And you are programmed to be the most modest Telleron we have ever seen too,” said Brekka.
“Or maybe the one with the biggest gonopodium and the smallest brain,” said Menolly.
George just laughed as he focused his instruments on the docking bay.
“What’s a gonopodium?” Alden asked Davalon.
“Father, you would call it a penis on a human,” said Davalon.
“Oh.” Alden’s forty-year-old sense of propriety turned his twelve-year-old face a bright crimson red.
“Why do you suppose there are no personnel on that station,” Tanith asked everyone in general.
“Maybe there is something wrong with it,” suggested Gracie Morrell. “Maybe they had to abandon ship.”
“Maybe,” said Davalon, looking carefully at the sensor monitor. “But I don’t see anything wrong with the on-board systems. They are all operating like they work perfectly. That station has air we can breathe, water we can drink, and no alarms are going off anywhere. It’s as if they abandoned a perfectly good station.”
“Well,” said George Jetson, “we can find the answer by going in and taking a look around.” He said that just as he pulled a control lever that thrust the wing forward to meet the docking ring and impacted the station so hard that everyone on board was knocked senseless.
“George! What did you just do?” Davalon asked from his new position prostrate on the floor of the control pit.
“Um, I meant to dock with the docking port, but it appears I may have embedded the wing in the side of the space station.”
“Oh, this can’t be good,” moaned Tanith, rubbing the greenish-brown knobby bruise that now blossomed on her pretty forehead.