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The Orville and the gutted Sagan were ejected from the nebula like a watermelon seed, tumbling end over end into clear space. The cloud, looking visibly offended, contracted into a tight, angry ball and zipped away at warp speed, probably to find a nice, bland asteroid to cleanse its palate.
The Orville emitted a concentrated burst of the Pepto-Abysmal’s flavor signature directly into the cloud’s “taste” receptors. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the entire cloud shuddered—a cosmic, full-body dry heave. The amber haze turned a violent shade of chartreuse. A booming, psychic wave of pure revulsion washed over the ship’s hull. The Orville
Kelly smiled. “Because every other ship in the fleet would have tried to negotiate with it or shoot it. You? You made it throw up.” The Orville and the gutted Sagan were ejected