No. 585

The egg sat in the container, mocking Lee with its wholeness.

“What is this? Again!” she shouted at Byers, the cook. “I ordered scrambled. Does this look scrambled to you?”

Byers approached the table and crushed the egg with his spatula. “You’re welcome,” he told her.

The statement did not end the conflict. Lee threw the plate against the bulkhead. Food splattered everywhere.

Byers shook the spatula menacingly toward Lee. “If you think I’m going to clean that up, you are very mistaken.”

Lee swatted a piece of toast toward Byers. It spun lazily past his head. “I’ve put up with your idiocy for too long. I would think that after all this time, you’d have figured out my breakfast. I only get it every morning.”

Byers laughed. “Maybe if you were nicer, I would work harder to remember.”

Commander Anderson, who had been eating in the corner, put down his comic book and cleared his throat.

Lee and Byers stopped eyeballing each other and looked at him.

“We’ll be landing on Mars in three days. I can’t turn this ship around, but if you two don’t settle down, I will assign you both to orbital mapping duty while the rest of us make history. Lee, clean up that mess. Byers, go make Lee the proper eggs.”