A'int No Atmosphere

The reason why Kevin was advised to hold on tightly became apparent almost immediately.  The vertical pole to which he was hanging on to, once clear of the floor, took a ninety degree bend turn and became a handrail.  This however was not the reason.

The actual reason was due to the abrupt shift in gravity; from some to none.  The other thing that there was none of was mostly everything.  All Kevin could see was the floor (or wall or ceiling) with the rail leading off in both directions.  The rest was black, vast, foreboding with twinkly bits in it.

'What the..?' yelped Kevin as his legs flailed around ineffectually.

Kara had flipped a panel open and was firmly bashing randomly flashing keys, 'Stupid...bloody...Ah, that's better.'

There was a shushing noise as a hatch slid across the hole they had recently emerged from.

'That's better.' She added.

'We're in...we're in...' stuttered Kevin

'Space.  Yes, I know.'

'But we're...' Kevin's free hand gestured towards his mouth.

'Breathing.  Yes.  This,' she bangs on the floor/wall giving a hollow clunking noise in response,'is a space ship.  One fortunately with a force field.  It is keeping the air in.'

'I thought they were used to stop bullets and stuff?'

'They were originally designed for that, but then it was discovered that you could build a much cheaper space ship if it wasn't airtight.  You know - no airlocks and spacesuits and all of that pallaver.'

'The pallaver that keeps you alive?'

'The only important thing was the engine.  If you had airlocks, space suits and pressurization and all that jazz and a non-working engine then you would be just as dead a ship with just a force field and a non-working engine.'

Several of the small dots now appeared to be moving.  Not just moving, but moving towards Kara and Kevin at fast rate.

'Hold on,' cried Kara as hundreds of small bits of space ship looking debris bounced along the hull.

Kevin wrapped himself around the handrail the best he could as several items of the junk bashed off him.  Fotunately his hold held.  A massive chunk of mass the size of a medium sized detatched house followed the smaller debris, however this was at a further and safer distance away from the space ship.  It was clearly meticallic, sparks flashed all over it and parts were on fire.  It looks like someone had ripped a cash machine right out of the wall of a bank.

'What's that?' asked Kevin suspiciously.

Kara mumbled something.

'Sorry, didn't quite catch that?'

'It was the engine.'

'Nice.  Open the door, while we can still breath.'

'I can't.  The way back has gone now.  I had to cut the link.'

'This is just getting better and better.  Why did you cut off our only way back?  We could've gone back.'

'If we had we would be dead by now.  We were being followed.'

'Really?'

'C'mon,' replied Kara sprightly.



© Copyright 2010 Paul Phillips

Renewable Energy

A silouette of a tall, thin man carrying a large bag appeared at the pub's doorway.

The figure entered. Here was a man whose features were so gaunt, his skin so leathery, there was no way to estimate his age. He was dressed in an immaculately sharp and fitted black suit which made him look even thinner. He dropped the thick leather brown bag on the floor under a coatstand, next to a table where a young couple were embracing each other. He spots Castor sitting at a table across the room and smiles a wide grin revealing a shiny gold tooth; amongst otherwise a perfect rack of pearly white teeth.

He weaves his way through the other customers, who are in varying states of conversation and sobriety.

'Rodan, it's been a long time.'

'Far too long, old friend.'

The lights blink off and on a few times. The barman tries flicking the switch a couple of times in vain.

'I have been following your work, though.' continued Rodan, 'I take it Yersinia Pestis was one of yours?'

'Well spotted. I loved the way 'bubonic' rolled off the tongue. It was very popular.  It passed onto about a thousand different planets.  You could even say it went viral.'

'I always said you had a "black" sense of humour.' They both laughed, with Rodan's being hearty and Castor more of a hissing, weasing sort of noise.

'Very good,' says Castor. The lights flicker again. 'What is up with these lights?'

Rodan smiles again, 'You'll like this. Do you see that bag over there?'

'Yes.'

'It's full of these,' He tosses a glowing lumious green bar to Castor.

'Pretty,' Castor says as he rubs it next to his skin on his face, 'It's tickling, it's making my insides bubble. What is it?'

'They call them boron control rods.'

'What are they for?'

'Well. Do you know that nuclear power plant down the road?'

'Yes.' The room goes dark and the ground shook for a moment. Everything stood up including drinks, bottles, lamps were thrown violently onto their sides.

'They are supposed to stop it doing that. Going boom that is.'

Castor claps with childish glee, 'Excellent.'

The young couple, who had moved on from embracing to full on smooching, hadn't noticed that the bag Rodan had left by them had itself taken on a luminous green glow.  Engrossed in their current activities they hadn't noticed anything that had been going on around them.  It wasn't until they effortlessly had both pulled large clumps of hair from each other's scalps, revealing large bloodied bald spots, that broke them from their own little reverie.  At this point the girl lets out a shrill scream at the clump of hair in her hand and then at the clump of her hair in his. She grabs her head in shame and runs from the pub, boyfriend in close pursuit.

'Whoops,' says Rodan matter-of-factly.

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© Copyright 2010 Paul Phillips