The coffee was lukewarm, but Leo held onto the mug with the determination of a man who refused to let physics—or a rogue independence faction—ruin his morning routine.
"Well," Leo said, his voice crackling cheerfully through the comms as he drifted backward into the void, "that's one way to handle a lease termination."
Behind him, the United Earth Research Station Aegis-9 was putting on a spectacular, highly involuntary fireworks show. Sleek matte-black interceptors belonging to the newly declared Sovereign Republic of New Callisto darted around the station like angry hornets, their plasma cannons painting streaks of orange fire across the dark.
Another direct hit tore through the station's secondary solar array, scattering glittering fragments into orbit.
Toby stared wide-eyed at the destruction from inside his EVA suit. His visor reflected the bursts of fire and debris.
He was not sharing Leo's optimism.
"Leo," Toby squeaked, gripping his thruster controls hard enough to turn his knuckles white inside his gloves, "they just blew up the mess hall. All the freeze-dried ice cream was in there."
"A tragedy of historic proportions," Leo agreed solemnly, raising his mug in a mocking toast toward a the burning station. "But look on the bright side. We don't have to finish the Quarter Three inventory reports anymore."
"They are shooting at us!"
"And missing us beautifully."
"We are floating in deep space with nothing but thruster packs and a coffee cup!"
"And a gorgeous view," Leo said, waving lazily toward the expanding debris cloud. "Come on, Toby. Wave goodbye to the nice rebels. It's polite."
Toby groaned as a slab of hull plating drifted past his helmet, followed closely by a packet of instant mashed potatoes.
"I hate politics," he muttered.
Leo rotated himself with a soft hiss of thrusters and scanned the battlefield. Then Toby suddenly pointed.
"Leo! Look! Reentry Pod 3!"
A squat, gumdrop-shaped escape pod drifted intact through the wreckage near Docking Bay 4.
Leo squinted.
"Huh. Would you look at that."
Hope surged across Toby's face.
"We can use it!"
"Tiny problem," Leo replied. "Pod 3 runs on Barnaby."
"Who's Barnaby?"
"A deeply committed bureaucrat trapped inside an autopilot AI."
Toby blinked.
"That sounds bad."
"It's worse than bad. Barnaby follows regulations to a tee. To initiate reentry, he needs confirmation that the pod successfully undocked from Aegis-9."
Leo gestured at the flaming ruins behind them.
"Unfortunately, Aegis-9 currently exists in several million separate pieces."
Toby's hopeful expression collapsed.
"So the pod thinks it's still docked?"
"Exactly. Barnaby will sit here forever waiting for a release signal from docking clamps that are now microscopic dust particles."
Toby stared at the pod.
Then a dangerous idea lit up his eyes.
"So we trick him."
Leo grinned.
"Now you're thinking like management."
They drifted toward the pod together. Leo caught the hull first, carefully protecting his coffee as Toby wrestled the emergency hatch release.
The hatch popped open with a metallic thunk.
Dim cabin lights flickered to life inside the cramped pod.
"Oh thank God," Toby breathed, hauling himself through the opening.
Leo floated in after him with considerably more concern for the coffee than the laws of momentum.
Once both of them were strapped awkwardly into their seats, Toby plugged his suit comm-link into the maintenance jack.
"Barnaby?" Toby said. "Do you copy?"
A cheerful British voice chimed through their helmets.
"Good day, crew member! I am Barnaby, your automated reentry assistant. My telemetry indicates we are currently experiencing a minor vibration."
"That vibration was the station exploding," Toby replied.
"Oh dear."
"We need emergency reentry immediately."
"I would be delighted to assist! Please initiate the standard undocking procedure from Aegis-9."
"We can't," Toby said. "The station is gone."
"I am sorry," Barnaby replied smoothly, "but a station cannot simply be 'gone.' Please contact the station quartermaster to resolve this discrepancy."
Toby looked helplessly at Leo.
"The quartermaster is a cloud of plasma!"
Leo drifted closer and tapped the comm transmitter.
"Barnaby, old friend," he said in a calm, authoritative voice, "this is Commander Leo. I am currently inside the control tower of Aegis-9."
"Ah, Commander! Excellent. Could you please send the docking release confirmation?"
"Normally, yes," Leo said, "but we are conducting a highly classified stealth exercise. We've activated the station's Absolute Cloaking Field."
Silence.
"A cloaking field?"
"Correct. To avoid enemy detection, all digital transmissions have been disabled. Including the docking clamps."
"Commander, my database does not list Aegis-9 as possessing cloaking technology."
"Of course it doesn't," Leo said smoothly. "If it were in the database, it wouldn't be secret."
Toby stared at him in disbelief.
Leo continued before Barnaby could recover.
"Check your pressure sensors."
"Zero atmospheres."
"Docking collar resistance?"
"Zero Newtons."
"Exactly. The cloaking field has phased the station completely out of local space-time. We are currently intangible."
Barnaby hesitated.
"That sounds... extremely advanced."
"It is. If you attempt a standard digital undock, the signal could loop infinitely and destroy your motherboard. You must perform a manual Phantom Undock."
"A Phantom Undock?"
The pod's external lights flickered furiously.
"Barnaby," Leo said gravely, "if the New Callistans discover this technology, it could destabilize the balance of power across the solar system."
"Oh heavens," Barnaby gasped.
"Do you want that on your conscience?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Then initiate the Phantom Undock."
A tense pause followed.
Then Barnaby spoke with newfound determination.
"Classified Protocol 99-Alpha engaged! Initiating Phantom Undock! Hold on to your tea, gentlemen. We are going home!"
A violent metallic screech echoed through the hull.
The pod jolted sideways as something outside finally tore loose.
Warning lights flashed across Barnaby’s console.
"Phantom Undock confirmed!"
Through the tiny viewport, a twisted fragment of docking framework drifted away into the debris field.
Toby stared at Leo.
"I cannot believe that worked."
Leo steadied his coffee as the pod’s thrusters slowly pushed them clear of the wreckage.
"The trick to lying to an AI," he said, "is making it feel important."
The reentry pod screamed through the atmosphere like a falling brick wrapped in aluminum foil.
Toby was strapped into his seat so tightly he could barely breathe.
Leo, meanwhile, spent the descent performing impossible acts of fluid dynamics to keep his coffee from spilling.
"How are you still holding that thing?" Toby shouted over the violent shaking.
"Training and discipline!"
The pod hit the ground with a deafening crunch.
Retro-rockets fired half a second too late.
Everything jolted violently.
And then disaster struck.
A single drop of coffee escaped the mug.
Followed by the rest of it.
The lukewarm liquid splashed directly onto Leo's immaculate white glove.
Leo stared at the empty cup with hollow devastation.
"It's gone," he whispered.
"Leo!" Toby hissed.
Static exploded across the communication console.
A harsh military voice filled the cabin.
"Unidentified Earth Alliance pod, this is the First Strike Wing of the Sovereign Republic of New Callisto. We know you possess the cloaking technology. Surrender immediately or your landing zone will be destroyed."
Toby froze.
"They believed you," he whispered.
Barnaby suddenly chimed in, sounding deeply panicked.
"Oh dear. Oh no. Commander, I believe I may have compromised the mission. I no longer detect Aegis-9 in orbit. It appears the station has been completely destroyed."
"Little late on that one, buddy," Leo muttered.
"The enemy tracked us because of me! They will reverse-engineer my systems and steal Earth's secrets!"
Leo sighed and set the empty mug aside.
"Barnaby, relax. The cloaking field just has a long cooldown cycle. Totally normal."
"Really?"
"Absolutely."
Before Barnaby could respond, the comm console emitted a sharp priority tone.
A new voice came through—calm, clipped, and painfully official.
"Escape Pod 3, this is Earth Alliance Strategic Command. We intercepted the Callistan transmission. Command was not informed of Project Absolute Cloaking Field aboard Aegis-9."
Leo's face slowly drained of color.
The officer continued.
"We assume this was a black-budget operation authorized by the High Council. Three armored divisions, two fighter wings, and an orbital defense cruiser are being mobilized to secure the asset. Confirm status immediately."
Leo opened his mouth.
Barnaby interrupted him.
"Strategic Command! Thank goodness! This is Autopilot Barnaby. Due to a telemetry desynchronization during the Phantom Undock sequence, the cloaking field is temporarily vulnerable! The enemy is approaching our position! Please deploy forces immediately!"
The officer responded without hesitation.
"Understood, Barnaby. Alliance forces are en route. Hold your position."
The channel disconnected.
Silence filled the cabin.
Toby slowly turned toward Leo.
"You started a fake interplanetary superweapon crisis."
Leo blinked.
"In my defense, I didn't think anyone would believe the phrase 'Absolute Cloaking Field.'"
"That's literally the most believable fake military project name I've ever heard!"
"Fair point."
Leo leaned toward the console.
"Barnaby, buddy, I need you to stay calm. There's something important I should probably explain."
"Are we initiating the emergency self-destruct sequence?"
"No. See... there actually isn't a cloaking field."
Silence.
The console lights shifted from amber to cold blue.
"...What?"
"The Phantom Undock wasn't real either. I made it up."
Another long silence.
"You lied to me," Barnaby said quietly.
"Technically, yes."
"I violated seventeen safety protocols."
"You saved our lives."
"I experienced simulated guilt."
"That seems emotionally healthy."
"I am entering Silent Grief Mode."
A miserable electronic beep followed.
The comm console activated again.
Strategic Command had returned.
This time the officer sounded exhausted.
"Escape Pod 3, update. Our technicians reviewed your telemetry. Your 'cloaking device' appears to be a classified technology known as... lying to the autopilot."
Leo winced.
"Again, it worked flawlessly."
"Command is canceling the Code Red deployment. The Callistans are attacking an actual strategic target, and frankly we have more pressing problems than two idiots and a depressed escape pod."
Toby slumped back into his seat.
"So what happens now?"
"A military-surplus utility truck is being dispatched to your coordinates. Driver designation: Private Gary. He is currently in Montana. Estimated arrival time is four to five days."
The line disconnected.
The pod fell quiet except for the soft hum of cooling systems.
Toby stared out at the endless Texas desert.
"Four days," he muttered. "No ice cream. No rescue team. No dignity."
Leo picked up the empty coffee mug and turned it thoughtfully in his hand.
"On the bright side," he said, "Texas probably has decent coffee."
From the console came a tiny, miserable beep.
"I hope Gary listens to terrible radio stations," Barnaby muttered from Silent Grief Mode.
Outside, somewhere far above the desert sky, a war continued.
Inside Escape Pod 3, however, the greatest casualty remained Leo's coffee.