Just floating around

Who: Lester, Lester and Dai
Where: Super-orbital space above Little Cheftonia.
When: Two seconds after....
 
 
... both Lesters fought the urge to swear as the packing case disappeared. Why hadn't he just got Alota to save them.
 
BECAUSE YOU'RE ALWAYS SHOWING OFF.
 
Because he was always showing off, Lester decided, despite the whimpering of his other self he was always trying to prove something.
 
YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY.
 
What's worse, he didn't even know why. Who was he? Why was he someone who showed off all the time?
 
IT'S ABOUT TO GET WORSE YOU KNOW... CAN YOU EVEN HEAR ME?
 
Lester wondered if things could possibly get any worse. Dai was floating not far away and he regretted getting him involved. Sure they'd survived the boarding party and taken two of the ships with them, but there was a third Mollopod vessel now sweeping the debris field, its sensor beams gliding over the twisted chunks of metal. Occasionally a piece debris would shimmer and vanish, evidently proving interesting enough for the Mollopods to teleport onboard.
 
YOU KNOW YOU COULD JUST GIVE IN NOW.
 
Lester struggled, refusing to give in as he patted the equipment pouches of the spacesuit, looking for something useful. He found something... something disgusting. Even through the spacesuit gloves he could tell it was rock-hard and triangular. He gingerly pulled what amounted to a furry wedge shape from a hip pouch. Once it had been a fine, tender white. Now it was lime green and waving little hairy strands. A cheese sandwich.
 
THAT'S JUST DISGUSTING.
 
Lester fought the urge to wretch, fighting down bile as he looked at the delicacy that could qualify as an archaeological artefact. The yellow processed cheddar had become white and frothy. Bits floated away into space as Lester held the sandwich at arms length. Then he had an idea. A crazy thought. He'd noticed the Mollopod obsession with eating and hoped it was a racial trait and not some strange singular focus of the crew he had encountered. There just one thing missing. He flailed around and by sheer luck he grabbed Dai's leg as he spun gently past. Pulling the Welshman closer, Lester found him to be unconcious. A pang of guilt travelled up his spine, presumably from the other him, waved its nasty claws in his brain for a bit and sent his breathing and heart-rate soaring. Lester fought for control and began searching the man's spacesuit pockets.
 
TRY THE TOP ONE.
 
Lester eventually reached the top pocket, ripped it open and grabbed... no it couldn't be. It was a sachet. A tiny plastic packet of salad cream. It wasn't mayonnaise, it wasn't barbecue, but it'd have to. Lester Phelps struggled with the tiny packet, finding it difficult in the thick gloves of the spacesuit. In the end he squeezed one end hard until the white ooze splattered the ancient manky sandwich. Then he grabbed Dai in one hand and held the sandwich aloft with the other.
 
THAT WAS LUCKY. SEE YOU AROUND LESTER, Death stepped off the mortal plain again.
 
* * *
 
Warm again. So nice. It felt like he'd been in space forever. Lester lolled in the comforting heat, letting it gently suffuse his skin, leaving an odd prickling sensation in his limbs, except where he was tied down of course.
 
Tied down?
 
Lester's eyes flashed open and he yelped in surprise at the Mollopod chef glaring down at him.
 
"Ah good, we won't have to put you in cold storage. You'll keep fresh for now," the Mollopod slurped greedily.
 
Lester fought to control the rising panic. It was alright, the other one would have something witty to say. The other one will sort this out. The other one will... hello?
 
"H-hello?"
 
"Hello," the chef said, turning puzzled. "That's surprisingly polite. It's usually all: 'please don't eat me Mr. Mollopod!' and such like. That's very refreshing."
 
"I wasn't talking to you! I was talking to me. Him. Me! Where are you? We're naked! We're tied to a table and we're naked!"
 
"Well," the Mollopod said with a sniff, "we couldn't let you marinate in that thing forever could we? Spoils the flavour, too much BO."
 
"W-where's Dai?"
 
"Dai?"
 
"The other human?"
 
"Oh the one you were holding? He's been sent to the roasting oven. An apple in one end, an onion in the other, he'll be marvellous. Oh I have to thank you as well, for the little snack, that did go down well. Maybe you can let me have the recipe for that starchy-fungoid slice thing you were holding? Our ship's gastro-sensors picked that up immediately! Lovely stuff, thank you."
 
"Y-you're welcome."
 
"Of course we have to start the main course a bit later, we want to get the soup going first."
 
"S-soup?"
 
"Well, you're so stringy," the Mollopod pressed a switch and Lester was tilted upright until he was eye-to-eyestalk with the chef. "You'll be good for stock though, once we cut you into chunks..."
 
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