The Galactic Plumber

"The Galactic Plumber: Part 2"

I wish I could say my last heroic act of wrestling with an interstellar toilet was the end of my troubles, but oh no—turns out, when you anger a ship's plumbing system, it holds a grudge.

The morning after my "victory" over the rogue vacuum flush, I was rudely awakened by the sound of alarms. Not the good kind, like "Surprise! Free donuts in the break room!" No, these were the terrifying, ship-might-explode, everyone-blame-the-engineer kind.

I scrambled out of bed, hitting my head on the low ceiling—again—and checked my communicator. A message from Captain Ryker read: "Water pressure in sectors 7 through 10 critical. Get to the engine bay NOW."

I groaned. Why was it always me?

A Bigger Problem Than Toilets

By the time I got to the engine bay, the situation had gone from "bad" to "oh no, we're all gonna die."

Water—black, nasty, space-aged sewage water—was leaking from the vents. Panels sparked as liquid trickled into the ship's main systems. The gravity stabilizer flickered, causing me to temporarily hover two inches off the ground.

I flailed in midair. "This is not my fault!"

Lieutenant Orla, the ship's security officer, scowled. "This started right after your little toilet incident yesterday."

I held up my hands. "I fixed the toilet! This is unrelated! Probably. Maybe."

The captain shoved a datapad into my chest. "Fix. It." I sighed. "Where's the leak coming from?" A nearby panel burst open, and a jet of water sprayed directly into my face.

"…Oh."

Diving Into Disaster

I traced the leak to the ship's main water recycling system, which, fun fact, is directly connected to the toilet system. Turns out, my emergency rerouting had put too much pressure on the filtration unit. Long story short: the ship had effectively turned into a floating water balloon filled with space sewage. I popped open a maintenance hatch and was immediately greeted by the foulest smell known to humankind. Imagine rotten eggs, burnt rubber, and an old gym sock that had gained sentience and was mad about it.

My eyes watered. "This is how I die." I crawled into the maintenance shaft, trying not to touch anything. The water sloshed around my arms as I fumbled for the pressure valve. The ship's AI, VERA, chirped through my earpiece. "Warning: Water pressure reaching critical levels. Catastrophic failure imminent." "No kidding, VERA!" I yanked the emergency release, hoping it would stabilize things. The ship groaned, the pipes shuddered, and for a moment, I thought I had done it. Then the entire system exploded.

The Aftermath

When I woke up, I was lying in the med bay. Captain Ryker stood over me, arms crossed. His uniform was soaked. "Okay," I croaked. "Maybe it was a little bit my fault." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The ship's water system is fried, half the crew had to evacuate to the cargo bay, and we'll be smelling that stench for weeks." "In my defense," I wheezed, "we didn't explode." Orla poked her head in. "Oh, and the toilets still don't work." I groaned and rolled over. Maybe I should've become a space librarian instead.