As astronauts go, he had always been regarded as one of the best.
Despite this, when the ship’s electrical systems began to fail a couple of weeks ago, he found himself struggling to compensate for some of the strange readings that were coming up on the screens. None of the readings had made any sense. Then, a short time ago, things got a whole lot worse. He was fiddling with one of the compass controls when all monitors suddenly went blank. He wasn’t sure; maybe he had pressed something. In short, he had no idea where he was and no idea where he was going. He remembered what his old flying instructor had told him all those years ago. He said that if the cockpit’s instruments play up, go back to basics. Look out of the window to see where you are and to orientate yourself.
He stretched across and lowered the radiation protection blind and looked out. He saw a whole lot of black with a lot of twinkly specs. He noted that some of the twinkly specs were more twinkly than others. He couldn’t see how knowing that would help. As he settled back into his seat, his clumsy space boot kicked something. He looked down at the bottle. In that moment, the irony of knowing more about the drink that came in that bottle, than what he knew about what any of the ship’s backup manual navigation controls actually do. He knew, for instance that the amber fluid that he had polished off was an eighteen year old single malt whisky that had been matured in Spanish oak. He knew that!
Looking down at the empty whiskey bottle, the one he’d smuggled on board, he remembered what his first motor vehicle instructor had said. He had made a point of stressing that one of the fundamental basics regarding driving a car is, don’t drink and drive.
He giggled.