Peter’s suit made him look like a teddy bear. Or, more accurately, an idiot.

Despite the constant chatter on the comm, all he could hear was Ethan calling him a “chubby little panda.” Ethan was the mission tech, and he had modified Peter’s suit with receivers strong enough to catch a signal from the other side of the meteorite. This far out in the sector, you had to make do with what you had. Supply runs only came once per solar cycle, about every 250 days. 13 since it was here. Of course the engine would go out three days after the freighter left.

Laughter bounced across the comm, whipping Peter’s mind back to the present. “Can you hear me?” Ethan’s mocking tone squawked in Peter’s ear. “Perhaps your ears need to be a bit bigger?” More laughter.

“Maybe once you grow a pair, we can talk about what needs to be bigger,” Peter snapped back. Ethan had it coming. Said he didn’t have any spare antennas. He probably broke it off himself and hid it in a drawer somewhere. Instead of making something normal looking out of the spare parts, Ethan had fashioned some soft metal, bear-like ears for the top of Peter’s helmet.

“Hey, Pete,” Ethan snickered. “What do you call bears without ears?”

Peter stayed silent.

Ethan giggled. “B’s!” He snorted. “Get it?”

Peter wasn’t about to laugh. He was out here risking his life on this rock. Ethan should have been the one doing the walk and testing for the right metals. But ever since he reached his radiation limit, he wasn’t allowed to spacewalk. Or so he said. If he had been willing to do his job, maybe they would have found what they needed by now. All they required was a few remaining mineral compounds and they’d be able to print the parts needed for the engine instead of scrapping every spare piece of metal in sight.

Fuzz and giggles bounced over the comm. Peter reached up to where his antenna should have been and thought about what he must look like on the monitor. It wasn’t the first time Ethan had pulled a stunt like this. The crew had endured their fair share of his ridiculous antics. Most of them came at Peter’s expense. Clogging the vac toilet, urinating in the crew cabin and making Peter collect all the particles while the gravity wheel was under repair.

“Hey Pete,” Ethan said, “You’re moving so slow, the crew up here wonders if you’re still in hibernation?”

“Funny,” Peter said.

“Ever hear the one about the sloth?”

“No.”

“Why did the sloth get fired from his job?”

Silence.

“Because he would only do the bear minimum.”

Snickers came again over the comm. Peter spun up the drill and buried it in the rock. Chunks of water ice speckled the surface of the meteorite. “H2O,” Peter reported.

“Got plenty of ice on the rocks around here,” Ethan replied. “Why don’t you look for something we actually need before one of them smashes into our blessed lady of deceleration?”

Peter’s blood boiled.

“Speaking of ice,” Ethan said, “Why is it so cheap to feed polar bears?”

Peter stopped drilling. When would this end?

“Because they live on only ice!” Ethan laughed hysterically.

Peter’s face reddened. He’d had enough. Out of nowhere, an idea popped into his head and a smile slid across his face. A tiny bit of guilt pricked his conscience, but he blinked it away. Being the facilities crewman had some advantages.

* * *

Back on board, Peter tore the bear-like antennas from his helmet. Then he made an announcement. “Space mites. Instituting containment protocol. Everyone strip linens.”

Grunts ensued from the crew. Space mites multiplied like crazy in temperature controlled environments with bio material. Anything fabric had to be thoroughly sanitized, which was Peter’s job as the facilities crewman. It also meant an uncomfortable night’s sleep for everyone in the escape pods, which had to be sectioned off to prevent any further spread.

“Don’t forget: two to a pod,” Peter announced. Groans echoed throughout the cabin. “Except for Ethan.“ Peter paused. “Radiation exposure protocol.” More grunts from the crew.

As the crew stripped their linens, Peter prepared the pods for decontamination. On Ethan’s pod, he made one additional adjustment.

* * *

The crew awoke to an alarm blaring. “Escape pod eleven jettisoned.” Red lights blinked and the AI voice repeated, “Escape pod eleven jettisoned.”

Jolted from sleep, the crew scrambled to their stations, including Peter.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“You deaf?” a crewman responded. “Escape pod eleven malfunctioned. It launched.”

“Who was in eleven?” Peter asked.

The crewman shot him a look. “Mission tech Ethan Brown.”

* * *

Ethan awoke to his head smacking the wall. Bouncing around the escape pod, he found the small window and glared at his former ship circling ever smaller in a sea of blackness.

The escape pod was completely empty except for a small storage container. Opening it, he found a broken pair of bear-like antennas and a hand-scrawled note. It read:

What did the panda pack in his suitcase?

Only the bear necessities.