"What do you think?" DJ twisted his arm and poked the center of the bulge on the side of his bicep. "It doesn't feel like a cyst, or large pimple."
Raymundo shook his head and went back to looking at the ship screen, flicking through diagnostic readings.
"What if I have an alien growing inside it?" DJ gasped. "And any day now I'll give birth! Like those flies."
"Bot flies." Raymundo supplied without turning away from the screen. The engines were still down. While the rest of the ship seemed to power up, and he never had a warning about power, the engine claimed to be low power.
"If you are trying to ask how the Qwotarians reproduce, they lay eggs. Not inside other things.
"What if, it's a different kind of alien?"
"You've been watching too many movies." Raymundo sighed. "You're new science fiction kick is starting to freak your wife out."
"I'm trying to be prepared for when your people come looking for you."
Raymundo snorted. "It's been like a hundred years. Also they wouldn't be looking for me."
"No, just your however many great grandfather's buried treasure. Which, are you sure it isn't in any of his logs?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Raymundo turned away from the confounding screen. “I’m also pretty certain that it had been used up for things like this barn.” The roof made of solar panels that looked like regular shingles, the floor under the dirt that collected geothermal and solar energy and powered the ship. Most of it anyway.
“Huh.” DJ looked away from his bulge, frowning a little. “Then why are you still messing with the ship?” He walked closer to Raymundo and brought his gaze to the giant screen. “You told me you’re not leaving Earth.”
“Yeah. But it would be great if it worked, if I or my descendants ever needed it.” Raymundo sighed. “But I think it needs some kind of fuel for takeoff, and then solar might be enough to keep it powered in space.”
“Interesting.” DJ said dryly. “Now…”
“Scan guest.” Raymundo interrupted.
“What?” Hundreds of little green dots started blinking all over DJ’s body.
“Scan complete.” The speakers worked again, the robotic voice familiar now after all the time spent fixing up the ship. “Guest is 97% healthy. Cholesterol levels are slightly elevated, as well as suffering from an epidermoid cyst on the arm. 99% chance the cyst is benign.”
“Huh.” DJ poked at the bulge again. “Guess it’s just a cyst after all.”
“And you call yourself a doctor.” Raymundo snorted.
“A physician's assistant.” DJ crossed his arms. “And not a dermatologist at that.” Raymundo laughed and swiped away the body scan screen to go back to studying the diagnostics.
Word count: 455