The Unknown Spaceman Visits Jupiter

The Stardust Cowboy, a spaceship that looked less like a marvel of engineering and more like a chrome-plated teardrop that had lost an argument with a junkyard, floated serenely in the inky blackness. Its sole occupant was a figure known only as the Unknown Spaceman. His uniform, a once-crisp silver jumpsuit, was now permanently stained with cosmic dust and the faint, irremovable smear of what he hoped was zero-gravity chili.

The Unknown Spaceman was currently engaged in a high-stakes battle. He held a spatula in one hand and a packet of dehydrated eggs, suspiciously labelled "Egg-Like Nutrient Paste," in the other.

"Computer," he announced, his voice echoing in the small cabin. "Initiate breakfast protocol. And play my theme music."

A tinny, synthesized fanfare, heavy on the kazoo, blared from a single, slightly blown speaker. The computer's voice, a monotone female program he’d named "Allura," responded. "Acknowledged. Rehydrating paste. Warning: Internal sensors indicate a 92% probability that this substance has achieved sentience and is plotting against you."

"Nonsense, Allura! It's all in the wrist." He slapped the paste against a hotplate, where it sizzled with a sound like angry static.

His mission, self-assigned and of the utmost importance, was to be the first human to perform a solo flyby of Jupiter. Not just any flyby, but a "radical, close-proximity skimming manoeuvre" he'd seen in a late-night holovid. He was here to prove that courage, a little duct tape, and a complete disregard for safety protocols were the true engines of discovery.

Jupiter dominated the main viewport, a swirling, magnificent titan of banded ambers, ochres, and whites. It was a sight that had humbled poets and scientists for centuries. The Unknown Spaceman squinted at it.

"Whoa. Big fella," he muttered, scraping his "egg" onto a plate. "Looks like a marble someone left in the bath too long."

**FACT:** Jupiter is the fifth planet from our Sun and is, by far, the largest planet in the solar system – more than twice as massive as all the other planets combined. It is a gas giant, primarily composed of hydrogen and helium.

"Indeed," Allura intoned. "To be precise, Jupiter's mass is 1.898 × 10^27 kilograms. Its Great Red Spot is a giant storm, larger than Earth, that has been raging for at least 400 years."

"Four hundred years? Must be a real grump," He said, taking a bite of his egg. He grimaced. "This tastes like regret and static cling. Plotting confirmed." He shoved the plate into the recycler chute, which made a sound remarkably like a gag.

"Setting course for the Jovian upper atmosphere," he declared, punching coordinates into a console that had several buttons labelled with question marks. "Time for the me to make my mark!"

"Caution," Allura said. "The radiation belts surrounding Jupiter are the most intense in the solar system. Exposure would be... inadvisable for an unshielded vessel."

"Pfft. Radiation is just space confetti, Allura! The Stardust Cowboy can handle it. I installed those old lead-lined fridge doors for a reason."

The Stardust Cowboy began its descent, or more accurately, its controlled fall, towards the colossal planet. The ship shuddered as it brushed against the outermost layers of the atmosphere. Swirls of ammonia ice crystals glittered outside, and the gentle hum of the engines was joined by a low, building roar.

"See? Smooth sailing!" he cheered, strapping himself into his worn leather pilot's seat.

"Readings indicate increasing atmospheric pressure and turbulence," Allura reported. "Also, the 'fridge door' shielding on the port side is vibrating at a frequency that suggests imminent structural failure."

"Just her purring! She's a happy ship."

He dove deeper, the external cameras showing a kaleidoscope of chaotic beauty. He was flying through the cloud tops of a king. Then, an alarm blared—a different, more urgent sound than the kazoo fanfare.

"Unauthorized energy spike detected," Allura announced, her monotone gaining a hint of reproach. "Origin: unknown. Classification: hostile."

"Hostile? Out here? Must be a tourist who didn't like my parking job." He peered at the scanner, which was displaying a large, blobby shape moving towards them at incredible speed. "What is it? A space whale? A rogue weather balloon?"

"Analysis inconclusive. It appears to be a... flying soup dumpling with a severe attitude problem."

Before he could question Allura's culinary-based taxonomy, the Stardust Cowboy was rocked by a violent impact. A thick, gelatinous tendril, glowing with sickly green energy, had slammed into the hull.

On the view screen, the alien came into view. Allura was, disturbingly, accurate. It was a vast, semi-translucent sphere, the colour and texture of a poorly made pork bun. Its surface undulated, and several more powerful tentacles unfurled from within its folds. It had no visible eyes, just a single, cavernous maw lined with crystalline teeth that spun like a blender set to "puree."

"Okay," he whispered, "that is one ugly dumpling."

The creature, which we shall call the Jovian Jelly-Gobbler, was a predator that floated in the upper atmosphere, feeding on electrical discharges and the occasional unlucky probe. It mistook the *Stardust Cowboy's* energy signature for a particularly tasty lightning bolt.

Another tentacle whipped out, wrapping around the ship. The hull groaned in protest.

"He's giving us a hug! A very aggressive, ship-crushing hug!" he yelled, wrestling with the controls. "Allura, evasive manoeuvres! Pattern Delta!"

"Pattern Delta is the one where you spin in circles until you are sick," Allura reminded him.

"Right! Pattern... uh... Zeta! The cool one with the flip!"

"Pattern Zeta requires navigational thrusters we sold for fuel three star systems ago."

The Jelly-Gobbler squeezed tighter, and the lights in the cabin flickered. The creature was draining power.

"Shields are failing. Life support at 60%," Allura reported. "Suggestion: Initiate self-destruct sequence. It will be a noble, if ultimately pointless, end."

"Nobody's destructing on my watch, Allura! I don’t do pointless!" His eyes darted around the cabin, looking for inspiration. They landed on the recycler chute where his sentient eggs had met their doom. An idea, brilliant and profoundly stupid, sparked in his mind.

"Allura! Reroute all non-essential power to the recycler! And prepare the emergency supply of... Egg-Like Nutrient Paste!"

A flicker of what might have been digital disbelief passed through Allura's circuits. "Acknowledged. May I state for the record that this is the worst idea you have ever had, which is a category with significant competition."

"Noted! Now pump it! Pump the paste into the waste ejection tube! And aim for the big guy's mouth!"

With a series of clunks and gurgles, the ship's internal plumbing went into overdrive. The entire vessel shuddered as several kilos of rehydrated, questionably sentient Egg-Like Nutrient Paste were forcibly compressed into the waste ejection port, a tube normally reserved for, well, waste.

Outside, the Jelly-Gobbler, sensing a surge of energy from the ship, opened its maw wider, ready to consume the delicious power core. Instead, it received a high-pressure stream of lukewarm, gelatinous, off-yellow paste.

The effect was immediate and dramatic.

The creature froze. Its glowing green tentacles went limp. The violent undulations of its body ceased, replaced by a subtle, horrified tremor. It had spent its entire life consuming the raw energy of Jupiter, the pure power of lightning. It had never, ever tasted anything so utterly, soul-crushingly *bland*.

A low, gurgling moan echoed through the Jovian clouds, a sound of profound culinary disappointment. The Jelly-Gobbler recoiled as if burned, releasing the Stardust Cowboy and frantically trying to scrape the paste off its sensory palps with its other tentacles.

"It's working!" he cheered. "He hates my cooking!"

"He has impeccable taste," Allura remarked.

"Now, while he's distracted! Full reverse thrusters! Let's get out of this lunch date!"

The Stardust Cowboy's engines, finally free, roared to life. The ship shot backward, away from the retching alien. He whooped, executing a sloppy but effective barrel roll that would have made his flight instructor, had he ever had one, weep with despair.

The Jelly-Gobbler, now more concerned with the lingering aftertaste of existential despair than its prey, gave a final, disgusted shudder and sank back into the deeper, hopefully tastier, layers of the Jovian atmosphere.

"We did it, Allura! We defeated the Dumpling of Doom with the power of brunch!"

"An analysis of the encounter has been logged under 'Miraculous Survival Despite Operator's Best Efforts,'" Allura said.

He leaned back in his chair, a wide grin on his face and looked at the receding giant of Jupiter, its storms now looking peaceful, even friendly, from a distance.

**FACT:** Jupiter has a faint ring system, discovered by NASA's Voyager 1 mission in 1979. The rings are composed primarily of dust and are not as prominent or visible as the rings of Saturn.

"Hey, Allura, did you know Jupiter has rings?"

"Yes. You installed the coffee maker in front of the sensor designed to detect them."

"Right. Priorities." He patted the console affectionately. "Set a course for home, Allura. And see if we have any of those brownie bites left."

As the Stardust Cowboy limped away from Jupiter, its hull slightly dented and smelling faintly of eggs, the Unknown Spaceman felt a surge of pride. He had faced the unknown, battled a bizarre alien life form, and emerged victorious. He had added another chapter to his legend, a legend that would likely be dismissed as space-madness by anyone he tried to tell it to.

He pulled out his personal log, a battered datapad.

"Log entry, Stardate... uh, whatever today is. I have once again preserved the safety of the solar system. A hostile, dumpling-shaped entity in the Jovian atmosphere has been neutralized using advanced tactical gastronomy. Jupiter is safe for tourism, pending the installation of better restaurants."

He paused, thinking.

"Also, note to self: invest in a better brand of eggs."

The journey back was quiet and peaceful. He spent his time trying to beat his own high score in *Asteroid Dodger 5000* and arguing with Allura about the philosophical implications of a sentient nebula.

He gazed out at the star-dusted void, Jupiter now a bright, beautiful star in his wake.

**FACT:** Jupiter's immense gravity acts as a shield for the inner solar system, sucking in or deflecting many comets and asteroids that might otherwise head towards Earth. In a way, Jupiter is our cosmic guardian.

"Hey, Allura," he said, his voice softer now. "That big guy back there... he's kind of like a bouncer for the whole neighbourhood, isn't he?"

"A crude but not entirely inaccurate analogy," Allura replied. "Its gravitational influence has likely prevented numerous extinction-level events on Earth."

He nodded, a newfound respect for the gas giant blooming in his chest. "Good guy, Jupiter. Even if his local wildlife has a chip on its shoulder." He smiled. "And a weak stomach."

Weeks later, the Stardust Cowboy, still trailing a faint scent of sulphur and defeat, drifted into the familiar space near Earth's orbital docks. The Unknown Spaceman guided his ship towards his designated parking spot—a slightly illegal one tucked behind a decommissioned communications satellite.

He powered down the engines, and the familiar silence of his tiny cabin settled around him. The adventure was over. The Unknown Spaceman was home.

He stood up, stretched, and walked towards the airlock. There was a universe of mysteries out there, waiting. There were planets to see, aliens to baffle with his cooking, and parking tickets to undoubtedly accumulate.

As the airlock hissed open, he tipped his helmet to the infinite sky.

"Another job well done," he said to no one in particular.

And somewhere, in the swirling, storm-tossed clouds of Jupiter, a Jovian Jelly-Gobbler shuddered at the memory of a taste so vile, it had sworn off spaceships for good. The solar system was safe once more, thanks to the one man brave enough, and foolish enough, to be its Unknown Spaceman.