A Space Story (part ii)

This is part 2 of an ongoing story with the ingenious +Mike Raven at The Blog Of Thog.

We were cruising through the galaxy, not really doing anything, avoiding the long arm of intergalactic law. It’s a good life, if you don’t expect too much. Food was plentiful, but kind of bland and entertainment was scarce. Sure we had video games, and some card games, and some video players, but all that time hiding among the rocks and debris of space was tedious.Tempers were short.

“Captain, we have a ship coming from the direction of the Terra Galaxy,” the first mate screamed, a little shrill, a little loud, crashing through the dead silence of the bored, listless cabin. It startled me, snapping me out of a daydream about glorious Filtimino tacos, filled with beast and space sauce. I would kill for one of those.

I spilled my coffee in my lap, burned like the fires of the sun. Pain shot down my legs, up my back, seared into my brain, twisted my face into spasms of ugliness. I leaped into the air, my face contorted in a mask of agony.  

I ran over to the second in command, grabbed his iced tea and poured it over my pants. People all over the cabin were looking at me as if I had gone crazy. Blank, staring faces following my every movement. All of them grabbed their drinks, holding them tight.

“What the hell, man? What was that all about, you screamed like a girl.” I said, feeling a little foolish. Commander of a ship filled with space pirates, ne’er do wells, cut throats and criminals startled out of all my cool by a little shriek, from a hardened criminal. 

“Hey, what do you mean by that?” All the female members of the crew said, almost in unison. 

“Well, I didn’t really mean anything, I was just startled and the pain was clouding my judgment. It was just a slip of the tongue. Look, you guys know I love you, right? All of you. Each and every one of you. Without you girls, and you guys, all of you, and I don’t think of you as men and women, just valued crew members. It was a silly mistake...”

“And the ship is still coming toward us. It doesn’t seem to see us, it is sending out a low radiation scan, but it seems pointed toward the asteroid just in front of us.” The first mate said, puttting down his bottle of water, on the far side, away from where I could reach it. I rolled my eyes up in my head, nobody had listened to a damned thing I said.

“OK, I said, turn 75 degrees to the starboard and head out of range. Keep an eye on that ship. Has anybody ever seen anything like that before?”

“I think it is a Terran ship, it looks small to be out so far, lightly armed, slow and poorly defended. We could probably win a battle with them, if we had any ammunition, and our reactor was repaired, and our weapons office wasn’t in the brig for stealing the last of the donuts.” Baldrid, The science officer said. He was the oldest guy in the crew, and knew a lot of things about a lot of things.

I filled my coffee, and sat down, waiting for whatever happened next, I was wide awake, nothing would catch me off guard again.

Klaxons blared, lights flashed the cabin was filled with light and noise. I jumped up, spilled my coffee on my shirt, agony.

“Police Cruiser, coming fast, from the Sirius.” Somebody yelled.

“Quick, land on the asteroid, and hide.” It was stupid, but what else could we do?

“The one the Terrans are looking at?” 

And this years Oscar for Greatest Potential Movie;

I would like to bring to your attention, I have been writing a fictional serial for some wonderful people. Every month I would send in a little story and they would read it, recommend a few edits, and we would work together to make it presentable. It was a lot of fun.

When they agreed to let me write the story they had no idea how hard it is for me to end something. I had no idea. But, I should have. Looking back at all the threads I've started here, only to leave them to die on the vine. It should have been a warning.

The motor for our time machine.

One day, they emailed me and asked how I was going to finish the story. 

Finish, heck, I'm just getting started, I thought. But, after more than a year it was time to bring that particular line of foolishness to a close. 

It almost killed me. I wrestled with the ending for two months. Two months of searching for a way to say goodbye to a world I had brought to life.* Characters, places, situations that only existed in my goofy imagination. 

Then one day, while driving to work, it hit me, kind of. I had the beginning of the end, and most of the end, and most of the end of the end. So I wrote it sent it off, and started casting about for the final piece. 

On the drive home that night it hit me. And I wrote it, edited it the next morning and sent it off. 

Jeff and Mark, from R and D.

So, for all of you people who think "yeah he can get into some pretty deep crap, but he can never find his way out again." Well, that isn't always true, sometimes, with an effort that is almost herculean in its self destructiveness I can.

Plus, it has cemented my desire to finish a novel, good or bad, finished, wrapped up and put behind me. At least until Hollywood comes calling. Man that will be so cool. I hope Hollywood has my phone number.

*Not really, it is where the seeds of my novel sprouted and grew. With new characters, more places, and animated wall paintings that help the protagonist through life (I'm not sure about the wall paintings, I love the idea, am crazy about the idea but am having real trouble with the execution).

Mothers Day shopping, almost Labor day, I wish

Parts One, Two, Three, four and five are here, please have a look,

Almost unnoticeable in the mists and breeze stood the entrance to the aisle where the lattice work and fence sections were shelved. The floor was definitely starting to roll under our feet now. We had the cart, the orange, unwieldy shopping cart, emblazoned with the Home Depot logo to hang onto.

Unsteadily we made our way down the narrow path. Wooden casks stood, strapped to pallets in the middle of the aisle, and down the right side crates, nailed tight, stood, lonely in the dim light. Men came, men wearing grey clothes, rambling slowly, steadily there movements timed exquisitely with the movement of the floor, and picked up a crate. Turning slowly they carried the crate to the swinging doors in the back of the store.

"Hey, let's ask them where the lattice is." My wife suggested, smiling politely, as if we were bathed in the light and crowds of the mall, looking for a cinnamon roll, or iced tea. Not stuck in the netherlands of Home Depot on a holiday weekend.

"OK." I said, she had made up her mind, the course was set and we had full sail, there was no turning back now. Besides, there might be some light on the dock. This gloomy, misty, damp fog was starting to have a negative effect on me.

Unfortunately, the dock was just as dreary, and crowded. Men, shabby clothes, stringy hair, gaunt, bony, matted beards, rags wrapped around their heads, moved slowly around the area. Moved past us as if we did not exist. One of them had a wooden hammer, rounded and worn.

At the ringing of a great bell, a bell that shook the walls, rattled our bones, he slammed a pin that held a wheel, it spun slowly, gaining speed, pulling a chain through a hole in the floor. It stopped with a crash, and a voice screamed "Raise the main sail."

It echoed around the room, and with a great sigh the room, and several adjoining areas, including the employee break room and the public rest rooms broke free from the building. We were adrift, I could hear a lighthouse bell in the distance. All around us the men moved with a purpose, in and out of the mist, and fog.

I looked at my wife, and said, "I told you we should leave."

"Without the lattice for the cucumber?" Her voice was filled with an outraged shock. Her disbelief was profound.

"Man the starboard cannons. We are sailing to send Lowes to the bottom of the sea." A voice, deep, resonant, steeped with the weight of command, an ancient voice from a forgotten past echoed around the "ship."

We take the offensive in the Battle for Jeff.

This is part 5 of the story to save the shipping guy, Jeff. Save him from us, unfortunately.  If you haven't read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and Part 5  this might seem kind of dumb. And if you have it will probably seem completely hopeless.  But, they are readily available, and free, and it probably wouldn't hurt, too much, to go have a quick read.


Bob lay on his back. Looking at the ceiling, his gaze wandering from light fixture to air vent to corner. A restless visual pacing. When he had made several laps around the entire area he turned toward Jeff.

It was a small room, and a taxing procedure. An operation of a scope that required a great deal of equipment. All of this equipment required tables, and these tables were crammed into the room chaotically. It had started simply and grown quickly, and there was no order to gear scattered throughout.

So, when Bob turned to look at Jeff all he could see where the soles of his feet, and a few inches of leg sticking out of the bottom of a sheet that was thrown over the inert shipping guy. Jeff's skin was grey with white splotches the size of silver dollars that seemed to move slowly, and change shape, but it happened so slowly it was really hard to be certain.

"I really liked Jeff." Bob said softly, slowly. His tone contemplative, almost serene.

"How well did you know Jeff?" I asked, thinking it was odd that Bob liked anyone. Surprised at the small display of kindness from this rebar reinforced, poured concrete custodial person. Shocked at the hint of sadness.

"Not well, we had coffee together a few times in the cafeteria. But, he was aces. If you know what I mean. Everybody who walked in smiled at him. Patted him on the back, shook his hand. And here is the odd part. They smiled at me. For a few minutes I was just one of the guys. Jeff had the power to change reality.

"Why did you choose him?  Why not Anthony, the guy from maintenance? He is a world class jerk. You know, one time I filed down the axle on the right, front wheel of his cart. He was going to answer a job ticket, and halfway there the wheel broke off, shot through the customer service department and broke Jim's "Worlds Best Dad" coffee mug, which was a blatant lie, anyway. Anthony's tools spilled all over the aisle. It was hilarious. I posted it on YouTube." Bob laughed, and coughed.

"Hey, you didn't do that to my chair, did you?" asked John, standing by his table, next to a chair that leaned uncomfortably to the right.

"No, no, of course not." Bob said, then fell silent.

"I don't know why we chose him. We just thought he would complain the most politely, I guess.

His eyes closed, and the dial on the monitor flashed "100 %".  The personality traits transfer was completed.

"Bob, you should be able to see, or feel what our little robot is experiencing. Think about the distant sensations. It might be a lonely, small feeling of isolation, or dread." Dr. Dawg said. "This is alien to you, and it might seem terrible. But, with a little effort you will find the center. Think about the movement."

A slight twitch registered on the display, then a full rotation. Then a small jump. Then what looked like our tiny, subatomic robot was doing the "robot" dance.

"Sorry." Bob said. "I couldn't help myself." Chuckling a little.

"Let's float this boat, and go save Jeff." Bob said.

"Commencing injection." said a robotic sounding voice, though it was really just Thomas. He had given up the southern drawl for a more futuristic timbre (which may have sounded even  more idiotic, I swear I am going to fire that guy). He counted backward from 10, lost track at 4, and just pushed the button.

Bob was on his way. Jeff groaned, and we all thought it sounded hopeful.