April Microfiction: Jester’s Privilege

I wrote this piece last week for Apex’s Microfiction contest, where writers were given the prompt “Fool” and asked to write a story in less than 250 words, with some speculative elements. I didn’t get shortlisted, but I’m looking forward to reading the winners soon! In the meantime, here’s my piece. Enjoy!

“Jester’s Privilege”
by Ria Rees

"Jester!" Captain Gunnings barked from the bridge, "Get your ass up here."

Jester turned to his crewmates in the mess hall. Neither dared look him in the eye. Harry traced a finger over the steel rivets on the table's edge. Nima stared at the airlocked hatch in the corner as though she could x-ray it.

As the awkward pause lengthened, Jester listened for the usual clunk of the engine—but there was only a low, yawning moan below.

"Why do I have to tell him?" Jester muttered.

"You have immunity," Harry said, "he's armed—I'd rather suffocate than get shot."

Neither of these possibilities seemed tempting to Jester. "There has to be something we can do about this. Nima?"

Nima narrowed her eyes at the hatch, her lips pressing together until they turned pale.

"Fine." Jester turned and grabbed the first rung of the ladder. "But you're gonna have to clean my brains off the floor when he's done."

He hauled himself up the ladder with shaking hands, trying to swallow the bile rising in his throat. Gunnings sat waiting, sour-faced, tapping the barrel of his gun on the nav console. "Well?"

Jester cleared his throat and plastered on a practised grin. "Good news or bad, sir?"

"The usual."

"Good news: The ship's dropped a weight class during battle. We could enter the shuttle-class races next year!"

Gunnings pursed his lips. "And the bad?"

Jester sighed. "We lost the lower deck. We're drifting"