Unidentified Flying Organs

I.

“Hey Ben, get that heart into the airlock already would ya?”

“Sorry Captain Buzzkill, I was just admiring the quality of the left arterial lobe.” “I’m loading it up now bub.”

The banter between the two astronauts was ongoing and continuous. It probably had to do with the amount of time they spent working together on the International Space Station. Ninety percent of the time, it was all in good fun. Sometimes heady word play amongst co-workers was necessary to keep everyone’s morale up. These two knew each other well enough to know when the line between a good-natured ribbing and an action that could cost someone a brand new, fully functional ribcage, was breached. This wasn’t one of those times.

Buzz stood on a main deck of the station, staring out of one of the many portholes into the vast emptiness of space. His thoughts were back home on Earth, where his wife and the rest of human civilization played out its meek existence. His wife was probably smiling up at him right now from the confines of her bed. He pictured her lying there, hands folded in prayer (which she was often accustomed to doing) her eyes lightly closed, as she did her best to send positive vibes through the dry expanse of the atmosphere and into the dark recesses of the cosmos to reach him. He let his mind wander and began to reminisce about Sunday mornings when she would get up before everyone else was awake and tip-toe into the kitchen to start breakfast. On those days he would awaken to the smell of bacon and fresh coffee. Life seemed like a sugary sweet dream when he thought of the way things used to be. It was memories like this that kept him going after so much time away from home. Their mission was important. Not just for the world, but also, selfishly for him, he realized. Before Jenny was struck down with a life altering and crippling disease, the two of them had the world at their fingertips. All of that was taken away one day by a doctor’s diagnosis and Buzz wanted nothing more than to regrasp that clutch on life that he used to know so well.

With the organ growing and replacement research they were currently working on, there was no reason that mankind couldn’t rise above the myriad of ailments and limiting conditions it was faced with. Lifestyles needed to change for many, and it was true that a number of the already sick people of Earth would fall victim to heart disease, stroke, liver failure, sepsis, etc. before they had harvested enough tissue samples and replicated the necessary body parts needed to sustain mankind. But their work was important, and it was going to be to the benefit of everyone, eventually. Already, doctors back on Earth were going through the steps needed to train and educate each other on how to successfully transplant these newly created organs into living patients. Buzz took comfort in the idea that it wasn’t just up to him and Ben alone to solve the world's problems. It would take a village, an entire group effort, to get these lifesaving and life elongating procedures and practices into full effect. They were only here to produce the product. It was up to the other facets of the health and wellness community to see that the organs were received and implanted into the bodies of the people that needed them the most.

“Hey Buzz....” Ben had finished loading and securing the airlock with the newly crafted heart and was making his way back to the bridge.

“So, what’s eating you anyway? I could tell you were somewhere else when I came in.” Ben asked, the empathy in his voice was evident.

“Yeah, it's nothing Ben. I was just thinking about Jenny and how much I can’t wait to get back down there and sweep her off her feet again.” Buzz said, his adrenaline boldly coursing through his veins as he imagined lifting Jenny off of her feet and setting them back down again onto the floor where they would dance and float and flutter like they used to.

“Ah, I understand.” Ben replied. It is true that he understood the sentiment, but he couldn’t possibly understand what this mission meant to Buzz personally. Ben didn’t have a wife, he didn’t have kids, there was no immediate family member of his that desperately needed an organ transplant to survive. Ben was into this mission for the advancement of the human race, for the greater good of mankind, and the proliferation and success of society as a whole. His head and his heart were in the right place. They hadn’t been bruised by the cruel twists of fate that life could throw at someone, at least not yet.

II.

“It’s a giant food replicator!”

“No way, you’re crazier than Khyron. It looks like a Valerian merry-go-round.”

“I’m telling you, it is a food replicator. I have seen different articles meant for consumption being passed through chambers inside of the place.”

“Well, should we break in and find out what it truly is?”

“Well yeah, we should find out what it is.”

III.

Ben was looking over the recently created lung tissue with a keen eye and a meticulous approach. Everything appeared healthy and new as he turned a dial to test the air intake, pressure, and expansion levels. This new unit should be able to hold more oxygen than Michael Phelps in a bong ripping competition. Satisfied, he turned the dial down and pushed a button to lock the lungs into a clear plastic housing chamber. Sealed, secured, and ready for shipment, this new organ would now make its way, by conveyor belt, through a long tunnel that led into the storage area.

Meanwhile, Buzz was looking over a clipboard full of notes and calculations on the kidney rebuilding procedures. It generally took less time during tissue regeneration for a new set of kidneys to be created than it did for larger organs like the small and large intestines, liver, and stomach casings. He thumped his pen against the blueprint for a healthy kidney. The renal artery was a major source of concern with this new model. It was essentially the part that connected the fully formed kidney to the rest of the organ structure, and it was a source of frustration to this smart, well trained, and capable flyboy.

IV.

Gren and Gron were running around their spaceship firing Aqua launchers at each other. “Eat Hydroglue ya big ugly galute!” Gron said as he fired off a salvo from his semi-automatic Uzi styled Aquacannon. His shot was off target and flew over Gren’s shoulder, impacting the metal wall behind him. Gren crouched down and somersaulted forward at the retreating Gron. He pulled his low caliber .44 magnum from its hip holster and fired a round straight into Gron’s back. The Hydroglue splattered upon impact and left Gron’s backplate covered in a sticky oozing mess. “Gotcha!! Ya Dysmorphian disgrace! Ha Ha Ha.” Gren shouted and laughed with an intense bravado. “That’ll teach you to hurl insults in the middle of a Hydro fight.”

“Good shot, Gren.” Gron acquiesced, putting his Uzi back into his shoulder holster. “Well that kind of made me hungry. You wanna see what we can rummage up from the lunch locker?” he asked his lizard faced shipmate.

“I have a better idea. Let us see what the Merry-Go-Round is up to. I was thinking maybe we break into the place today and do a little pillaging.” Gren placed his webbed hands on his scaly hips in a power affirming pose.

“Good idea. There is no telling what kind of mutated munchies they have on board that blipping Merry-Go-Round.” Gron licked his thin, greenish lips in hungry anticipation. “I call dibs on any Torgish Truffles we find.”

“You can have the Truffles, Gron. I want a slab of Minced Meniscus pie.” Gren spoke in a dreamy hazed out manner, undoubtably envisioning that steaming pie being set before him on a platter to entice his ever-increasing appetite.

The two armor-plated Agorians made their way to the bridge of their space cruiser. The large viewport was bathed in a white cloaking shroud. “Monitors up!” Gron spoke into the air, causing the ship’s system to remove the luminescent covering that hid the depths of space from the eyes of the crewmembers on board. Gren went to his command center position on the ship and began entering calculations into the brightly lit tracking board. An image of the large International Space Station appeared in the center of the viewport.

V.

“Do you ever get the feeling that you are being watched?” Ben asked his friend and fellow astronaut.

“Only when you are standing behind me Ben.” Buzz replied, his focus on entering commands into the huge mainframe in front of him.

“No, I mean it. I got a weird vibe a few minutes ago.” Ben said imploringly.

“It’s probably just the nature of our work and the importance of our mission, Ben. You know that every action and detail matters and you are letting your imagination get the better of you.” Buzz replied, indifferent to his coworker’s sudden neurosis. He took a long look at the conversion ratio chart he had been holding and handed the clipboard to Ben.

“Maybe you’re right.” Ben reluctantly agreed. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on. Something that neither one of them knew the full extent of.

VI.

The two Agorian lascivious lizard warlords were hungry. They salivated uncontrollably as they looked upon what they had both been calling, the ‘Merry-Go-Round’. Gren punched a few keys on his control panel and zoomed in on a section of the International Space Station. A drop of molecule mincing moisture fell against the panel as he turned his powerful snout towards where Gron was standing on the bridge. “See right there, Gron!” he grunted excitedly. “That’s where we should intercept the grub.” It was a large tunnel-like tube where different assorted organs were making their way, by means of a conveyor belt, to the storage and holding container to await shipment. Gron walked closer to the image on the viewport, squinting a large conical eye. “It looks like those munchies are shielded in some sort of glass or plastic domes,” he astutely pointed out. “Yeah, and they are moving in a steady flow like a mechanized Solarian smorgasbord. Look at all the different options!” Gren shouted, barely able to contain his excitement. “Well, I am still not convinced about your food replicator theory, Gren.” Gron said as he shifted his weight from one giant scaly appendage to the other. “But I am famished. Let us get our Power Floaties on and go EAT!” he shouted. His partner’s contagious excitement was wearing off on him.

“Really, Power Floaties?!“ Gren questioned mockingly. “We definitely need to come up with a better name for those suits.”

“What’s wrong with Power Floaties? I like the name. They help us float and they provide us power for use outside of the vessel.” Gron said, slightly offended at Gren’s displeasure in his terminology. “What would you have them called, Off World Overcoats??” He snorted as he hurled the quip in Gren’s direction.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.” Gren said, wiping a trace of drool from his mouth with a massive, webbed hand. “Race ya to the Power Floaties!”

“Yeah.” Gron replied.

VII.

Buzz couldn’t help thinking about his wife back home. He had dreamt of her last night and awoke with a sense of despair and isolation. He was determined to turn those negative emotions into productivity, motivation, and inspiration. But first he had to deal with the concept and idea that he might not ever see her again. When he left for space, she pleaded with him, “Don’t leave me here alone.” The sound of her desperate voice echoed in his mind and sent chills throughout his body. He had tried to explain to her that everything he was doing was for her benefit, as well as a multitude of other people. If they could replace her failing organs, if there was any chance at all of being able to cure her, he was going to be involved. The thought of just sitting idly by and watching her die, went against every fiber of his being. He couldn’t just do nothing. Surely, she understood that. She had to know the kind of man he was that she had married. Still, the sound of her voice crying out to him, “I can’t make it without you…” was doing some damage on his fraying nervous system. He held up a newly created liver and thought about its implications for a moment. Perhaps this was the actual organ that would be transplanted into his wife’s betraying body and offer the two of them added years of life together. He placed it inside of its clear container and sent it down the tunnel toward the storage area, a soft prayer playing in his mind.

VIII.

Gren and Gron landed onto the side of the massive tunnel with a gentle thud. Their ‘Power Floaties’, as Gron liked to call them, provided the marauding Agorian assailants with the necessary tools and instruments that were needed in the event they ever had to travel outside of their cruiser to do some work on the hull of their vessel. It had adjustments and triggers for various temperature levels as well as adaptations for different atmospheres they might encounter. Gren unlatched the torchwelder from the hip of his suit and nudged Gron with his elbow. “How bout, Stygian Stealth Suits?” he suggested through the telecom at the base of his helmet. Gron turned his head and unlatched his own torchwelder from the leg of his suit. “Don’t make me use this on you Gren. They are Power Floaties!!” he menacingly aimed the blowtorch at Gren and lightly pumped the trigger, sending a small whoosh of flame towards Gren’s helmet. “Ahh, you got no imagination Gron, let’s melt this panel, but I wanna kick it in after the outline is complete.”

“Good deal.” Gron replied, and the two of them turned their torchwelders onto the side of the tunnel and began burning through the thick layers of corrugated steel in a rectangular shape to create a doorway large enough to fit through. “Hey Gren, will we be having a take-out or a dine-in experience tonight?” Gron asked, as their two blazing instruments came together to complete the dimensions. “I was thinking a little bit of BOTH!” Gren expelled the last word with vehemence as his foot collided with the center of the cut-out they had just made and sent the panel flying inward, landing with a rattling crash. They quickly floated through the opening and switched their torchwelders into soldering mode. Gron lifted the heavy metal melted panel and placed it back into alignment with its previous position. Gren was deftly skilled with the welding instrument and effortlessly lined the cracks they had created with a malleable polymer that fused the piece back onto the tunnel.

“Great, we’re in!” Gron said with a lizard grin. “Let the feast begin!”

IX.

Ben had just finished his inspection of a freshly formed stomach chamber that was ready for the assembly line and was about to load it onto the conveyor belt when some movement on the security camera above his head, caught his attention. There in plain black and white, were two huge, strangely clad creatures pointing and apparently conversing with each other. He was at a loss for words, but his instincts told him he had better let Buzz know about this immediately. He hit the intercom system, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke, “Um, Buzz, I have a situation over here that I think you’d better take a look at. It appears we have some visitors.”

Buzz had been processing some data into the printer module when he heard the concerned and nervous voice of his crewmate come over the intercom. He saved his work and ran to the inspection quarters as fast as he could. “What is it, Ben?” he asked, huffing a bit as he tried to catch his breath.

“You tell me!! Look!” Ben shouted and pointed to the camera.

“What in the world???” By this time, the two lizard men had taken one of the plastic housing cases off of a human heart that was ready for shipment and they appeared to be studying it intently. Their helmets had been removed and the saliva was dripping from their bulbous snouts as their eyes were shifting furiously in all directions, like two hyperactive chameleons.

“What in the heck are those things?” Ben asked rhetorically. His own heart was racing at the sight of these intruders as he tried to wrap his mind around how to handle the situation.

“I don’t know, Ben.” Buzz replied, remaining calm, cool, and collected despite the inward shock he felt at seeing real alien life right there aboard the Space Station. “But it looks like you and me are going to have to find out.”

“One of us should remain here and the other go and see if we can communicate with these beings. There is no sense in us both going down there and confronting them. We don’t know if they are hostile or not.”

“Is it just me or do they look hungry?” Ben questioned. “I think they are discussing how to eat that heart!”

“You could be right.” Buzz replied. He didn’t know what these beings were up to or what their business on board the Station ultimately was, but he had seen enough. It was time for action. If they were indeed going to devour that organ, he had to try and stop them and make sure none of the other replicated organs were damaged by these hungry homewreckers. “I’m going down there. You stay here and monitor the situation. You should be able to catch what is going on, on-screen. If something strange or out of the ordinary happens, I will signal towards the camera, and you’ll know when I need your assistance."

“You’re the boss.” Ben said, “Be careful.”

X.

“Yeah, but you remember what happened the last time you ate under-cooked Centurion battlecrickets?!” Gron said with a worried look. The incident he was speaking of was a major source of embarrassment for Gren and he seldom brought the matter up anymore. “You turned the color of the Borealis and started shedding skin like a heat sensitive Pagorean python.” Gron warned his friend about possible complications from impulsively gnawing down on the human heart he was holding.

“I wish you wouldn’t bring that up Gron. Look, what I’m saying is, I take this here torchwelder, I blast it down the middle with some intense fire. You get half, I get half. If you wanna cook your side, that decision is entirely up to you, but I want to try my slab without any burnt charcoal flavor.” Gren was adamant about eating this hefty organ raw and it didn’t look like Gron was going to be able to talk him into doing otherwise.

Buzz quickly made his way into the tunnel as different scenarios of how this interaction could take effect, ran through his mind. He didn’t want to confront these two interlopers with a weapon drawn and initiate a violent outcome. He also didn’t want any unnecessary damage to be inflicted upon the ship or the cargo they had been feverishly creating. He ultimately decided that the friendly approach might seem a little unorthodox but could be his best avenue of action. He would just engage them like a polite police officer that had inadvertently walked in upon a shoplifting in progress.

“Hey guys!” Buzz called out to the two Agorian agitators with a friendly wave. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Gren was immediately startled by the human outburst and nearly dropped the heart he had been ogling, onto the floor. Gron, on the other hand, appeared as if he had been expecting their activities to have been interrupted. “Yes, thank you.” He spoke into his telecom at the base of where his helmet connected with the rest of his ‘Power Floatie’ suit. “You must be the butler of this mechanized feast. I was just telling my friend here the potential risks of eating uncooked and unknown meat.” Gron had flipped a switch on his telecom apparatus so that the human officer might be able to understand his speech patterns better than if he spoke in his native Agorian tongue.

“Well actually, I am not a butler. I am a scientist and an astronaut from the planet known as Earth.” Buzz coolly explained his presence to the uninvited beasts. “And these organs you see travelling along this conveyor belt are not meant for anyone’s consumption. They are being created in the hope that they will help save the lives of various members of our species, back home on Earth.”

As Buzz was talking, Gren had taken a bite out of the heart and was chewing with vigorous delight. “That’s too bad.” Gren said, his mouth still half full of mushed ventricles. “These are pretty good.” He swallowed hard and flashed a forked tongue across his greasy lips.

XI.

From : The desk of Corporal Buzz Janikowski of the International Space Station

To : The Office of Biological Research and Development

With this shipment of organs, I would like it to be noted that Lieutenant Commander Ben Jaworski and myself have been diligently working to the best of our respective abilities in maintaining the facility here in space while also keeping in mind and remembering the ones to whom we serve. I mention this, because contained within this crate, along with our replicative organ work, we have decided to include tissue samples that have been taken from an alien race of beings that we have encountered known as the Agorians. Do not be alarmed, we remain unharmed, and the beings do not pose a threat to the human race. Quite the opposite in fact. They are a race that has a genetic makeup similar to that of a certain species of lizards from our home planet. They have been gracious enough to share with us some of the secrets to their technology, as well as a fully functional biological appendage that we think should be analyzed extensively. They are capable of regrowing their own appendages, ligaments, and tissues after separation from their body occurs. Lt. Ben and I have found their means of regenesis quite fascinating and something that might prove fruitful if it was able to be incorporated into the molecular structure of the human body. We hope that this shipment gets to the people of Earth that need these vital organs the most, and with the aid of the Agorians, we might advance our replicative and reproductive rates so that more and more people will be saved, each and every day.

Godspeed,

Sincerely,

Corporal Buzz Janikowski

XII.

“Hey Gren, how do you defeat a one-armed Agorian in combat?” he lowered his Uzi styled Aquacannon level with his intended target and waited for a reply.

“Don’t you say it!” Gren warned, reaching for his pistol.

“Single-handedly.” Gron let out a howl of raucous laughter as he fired a salvo of Hydroglue directly onto the stump where Gren’s arm used to be.

Written by : Brad Schoeneman