Rocketing through the void of space at ten million billion miles an hours, planets and

stars a blur on either side of me, I captain the Mother ship, planet Earth’s finest intergalactic

spaceship. Two million square miles of space metal, complete with ray guns, death rays, and

death guns, it’s the most lethal ship ever made, at least with me, Captain Thunderbolt, at its

helm. At its front is a windshield the size of a football field, which is stretched out in front of

me, allowing me to greet the vast black space, the bright stars, and my goal, wilderness planet,

145X, codename, Petsmart. My mission today: to locate a replacement for my right hand man.

The beta to my alpha, my copilot. This is not a mission I take lightly, nor is it one that I wish

I had to do. A lowly navigator appears at my left hand. “One light mile to go, sir,” he squeaks

before disappearing to the vast forest of computers behind me. Gritting my teeth and gripping the

steering wheel, I begin to slow us down, readying for landing.

“Bring the electro- landing rudders into position! Adjust cooling units to atmosphere!

Engage plasma wings! Prepare for impact!” I yell, and a flurry of navigators, work bots, and

gork aliens from sector nine rush to land. A booming voice, the Motherboard, surrounds us,

“Almost there.” Before the mission, my old copilot was stellar at landings; he had a sixth sense

for these things. I shake my head; focus on the rapidly approaching planet. I can make out vast

craters and off to space-east (Earth-left) I can make out swampland that would make a stronger

man’s skin crawl. With a bump that makes my head hit the ceiling, we touch down, rudders

smoking lightly.

“Billy! We’re here! Do you need help unbuckling?” Motherboard asks.

“Maaaam! Intergalactic super pilots don’t need help unbuckling,” I say, jabbing at the

confounded trap. Motherboard reaches over and unleashes the clasp.

“What do you say?”

“Thanks, mom,” I slide out the hatch and land on the forging planet floor.

The smell hits me first: a vile, oddly sweet odor, like wet dog and kitty litter. Turning,

slowly, one foot over the other, I get a panoramic view of my environment. It’s certainly not

empty. In fact, this planet has cities, full of the overtly friendly, but secretly hostile aliens that

inhabit this planet: Sailspeople, so named for their sail-like fins. Around me is a sleek floor of

hard rock, but due space-west tower-caves spring up, and even from this distance I can tell they

are full of aliens. Jackpot. With any luck, I can scout out a worthy co-pilot without having to

vaporize too many people.

Death-ray gun--check. Atmospheric-oxygen converter--check. Snacks--check. Holstering

my gun, I begin to move around the perimeter of the forest. “Billy!” Motherboard calls, “don’t

go too far, let me find a Sailsman.”

She plods off, toward the more built-up cities. I shudder at what they will do to her—she

will come back glassy eyed and with a sudden desire to purchase merchandise en masse, for this

is the way of the Sailspeople. I almost go after her, but then remember my mission. Sailspeople

madness is curable. She will survive. Now, one hand on my gun, I head towards the caves.

They are made of a strangely smooth uniform rock, and they offer a clear view inside. Suddenly

a pang of sadness forms inside of me and forms as a tear. My hand quickly flies up to my face,

wipes it away, and I fling my head around, making sure no one saw my moment of weakness. I

It was four years ago today that I was here for the first time, searching for my first copilot

. It was so long ago now that the details are hazy—a warm day, and so early in my pilot career

that even that simple mission put the fear of God in my heart. But when I saw her, I knew. She

was a baby then, with big paws and eyes, and when I stopped in front of her cave, she came

bounding out, tongue lolling, and pushed her paws up against the wire.

“Woof,” she said. At this point her language was primitive, but soon enough we would

learn to understand each other.

My search was done. I toddled over to the Motherboard and tugged at her pants leg. She

smiled at me, and picked up my first copilot. We named her Sparky. Our missions together were

dangerous and difficult, but when Sparky was by my side, nothing seemed bad. We tackled giant

monsters from the dangerous region of Under The Bed, braved missions to Annoy Neighbors, a

previously unknown planet close to Earth, even stole the incredibly valuable Kookies from the

sector of Pantry, a mission so dangerous even Motherboard would have been angry. But Sparky

never complained; she loved her job, and she loved me and I loved her.

Now, back at planet code-name Petsmart, my search it ten times more difficult. No matter

who I find, they could never replace Sparky, and they could never fill the memories she left

behind. One botched mission a month ago left me without my best friend. To lose a co-pilot, the

pain of it was awful. In all my eight years of serving Planet Earth, I never had a beta like her.

Standing here again, I feel worse than I did the first time. I walk past the caves, each

holding a possible replacement: Dawgs from Sector 7, known for their loyalty and bravery; Kats

from Sector 9, applauded for their cunning and brains. All excellent options, but I walk past them

all. I feel nothing.

Ahead of me there is another section of caves, dimly lit and dusty. A sign outside it bears

the strange language of the Sailspeople: “Iguanas, geckos, other lizards.” I regard the sign, trying

to make sense of the alien markings. Should I go in? It seems dangerous, even hasty. Behind

me is row upon row of caves, and in each one, I know I will not find Sparky. I enter the strange

As I step in, the gaseous clouds of atmosphere thicken until they block out the sun. The

walls of sheer rock close in on me as I approach the first cave. My hand twitches on my death

ray, and I slowly bring it up to my ear.

“Motherboard, do you copy?” I whisper. No answer. “Motherboard?” The lights above

me flicker, throwing filmy yellow light on the darkened caves. I look behind me, but there’s no

sign of motherboard, not even any Sailspeople. The caves of Dawgs and Kats has disappeared

entirely. I have wandered into a hostile area. I move, slowly and quietly, down the rows. Check

my gun. Be brave, be brave. When there were two of us, it was so much easier to be brave. One

is a very scary number, even when you’re an intergalactic space hero.

The first cave is filled with vegetation and it looks like it has nothing in it. Nothing that

would eat me, anyway. I take a cautious step closer. Relaxing my grip on my death-ray gun, I

chuckle. There’s certainly no one here, these caves must be abandoned, silly me for thinking—

but wait. Did something move?

“Motherboard?” I whisper.

Suddenly it comes out at me: a giant, fanged Space Lizard twice my size, its beady eyes

filled with bloodlust. Similar to a common iguana, but with an insatiable appetite for human

flesh. I scream and stumble backwards, “Mommy!” I cry as the lizard grows before my eyes to

ten times my size, rearing onto its hind legs. My death ray is useless, bouncing off its leathery

hide. Turning, I run as fast as I can in the opposite direction, directly into a new wall of cages, I

mean caves. They come crashing down, bouncing all over, sending rubber plants and little bits of

pet food flying. I cover my eyes.

“Mommmmmy!” Between the cracks in my fingers I can see the lizard swell to the size

of a building. In the back of my mind I want Sparky; I want her here to be with me in my last

moments. At least I can see her soon. In my final moments, I pee a little.

“Galactic Space Pilots don’t get scared.”

I gasp. Sparky? A wild peak through my fingers confirms what I already knew. She

wasn’t there. The lizard seems to have shrunk, though, as it regards me, maybe deciding whether

to prepare me or eat me raw. I blink. I was so sure I heard her. I knew she was there.

Placing one hand on my death ray, I slowly rise and raise the gun to point at the lizard, which

stands in the corner, cross-eyed, a little smaller then a Buick. Even though I’m scared, even

though my hand shakes on my death ray, I throw back my shoulders. “I am the Galactic Space

Pilot, Captain Thunderbolt. I am not scared of you, lowly Space Lizard,” I say, calmly and

boldly, to the lizard, around half my height. “I represent the great planet Earth, the exceptional

Mothership, and my noble friend and late copilot, Sparky! You do not scare me, you do not want

me as your enemy! I can vaporize you in milliseconds!” It takes a cautious step forward, now the

size of a common iguana.

“Don’t move! Or I’ll shoot!”

Actually, it’s kinda cute… the way its eyes bug out. It steps towards me, until it’s just a few

inches away. Suddenly, its tongue whips out of its mouth and hits my knee, covering my shin in

slimy gloop. The tip of my gun sinks towards the ground. I think of Sparky.

“Perhaps,” I say holding out my hand, “a new allegiance could be formed.” He licks my

hand, sealing our contract.

Charging through the space time continuum at 10000000000 quadrillion million light

years an hour, I push the Mothership to the very reaches of its speed. To my right sits the newest

addition to our crew: my copilot, Buzz.

“Engage the turbo engines and the astropace units,” I say.

“Engaged,” Buzz responds, clicking away at his computer.

A work bot comes rushing up to my side, “Captian! A pod of hostile grook aliens is

coming up on our right!” An explosion confirms it. I look to my right. Buzz looks back at me.

“Man the death blasters, starboard side!” I yell.

We are ready.