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- Mar 9, 2007
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Currently untitled, but something I have been interested in writing for a while now. Any comments and observations are warmly appreciated.
"The point is," said Grayson.
"Yes?" enquired Jennings.
"The point is," he persisted.
"Go on," encouraged Jennings.
"The point is... look, will you please stop interrupting me!" spluttered Grayson.
"I'm sorry old chap." replied Jennings apologetically, "I was only trying to encourage you."
"Well don't, it's annoying. Anyway, the point I was trying to make was..." he paused for a second, "Look, I've forgotten what it was now;" glaring at Jennings, "But you can be sure that it was valid and very..., er very..."
"Pointy?" suggested Jennings.
"Go boil your head!" retorted Grayson, storming out of the room. If he could have slammed the door behind him, he would have done so. But seeing as all of the portals on the ship had electronic mechanisms, he decided instead to press the 'close' button very firmly indeed.
"What was up with him?" asked Lieutenant Blake, lifting his gaze from his navigation monitor.
"Oh, it's his first trip aboard a holiday cruiser," explained Jennings. "He hasn't accustomed himself to the way things are done around here yet."
"Ah... yes... I see," replied Blake, "We all thought we knew better in our salad days."
"Salad days..." mused Jennings, "Tennyson?"
"You're improving," commiserated Blake, "But no, it's that's the Bards's work: Antony and Cleopatra, Act One My salad days when I was green in judgement, cold in blood."
"So that's where the term 'Caesar salad' comes from then, is it?" mused Jennings.
"Not quite," replied Blake, "Anyway that was Cleopatra speaking."
Such riveting conversation helped time pass for the bridge crew of the Starship Sunshine. Their six week mission to take the latest consignment of rich and famous passengers around the binary star system Callisto, before depositing them on the luxury planetoid Triax 5, and then returning them home. And it may have continued to have been just as uninteresting as all of the previous three hundred and sixty five voyages that Sunshine had made, if it hadn't been for the small chunk of rock that had accidentally placed in her path by an overtaking ore mining ship that had spilled part of its load.
"Red alert, red alert!" cried the NavCom, the ship's computer warning systems.
"Are you sure Nav?" enquired Blake, dashing back over to his monitor. "We've never had a 'Red Alert' before."
"I wouldn't have said it was a Red Alert if it wasn't one," retorted the computer sulkily. "Anyway, I've told you before: it's NavCom, not Nav. How would you feel if I started calling you Bla?"
"Okay, okay Nav, don't get your transistors in a twist. So what is this 'Red Alert' all about then?"
NavCom decided not to persist with the protests regarding the shortening of its name. "A chunk of carbon has found its way into the navigation system; we can't steer the ship. Also..."
"Nav, you'd better put the ship in 'park'," interrupted Blake.
"If you'd let me finish," continued NavCom, "I was about to inform you that it also damaged the propulsion system."
"But shouldn't the heat and the pressure from the engines have evaporated the chunk of rock?" asked Blake, ignoring the computer's retort.
"Well normally yes," explained NavCom "But this piece hit a blind spot, and caused the carbon to crystallise into a thousand kilograms of the hardest stone possible."
"You mean we have a diamond that weighs a ton wedged into our navigation system?" gasped Blake. At the mention of diamonds, Jennings pricked up his ears, as did Grayson, who had surreptitiously re-entered the room upon hearing the alert warning.
"The boy's a genius," said NavCom sarcastically, "You've got it in one. Shall I try using the emergency exhaust systems to disintegrate the blockage?"
"No!!!" cried Paulson, Blake and Jennings in unison.
"The point is," said Grayson.
"Yes?" enquired Jennings.
"The point is," he persisted.
"Go on," encouraged Jennings.
"The point is... look, will you please stop interrupting me!" spluttered Grayson.
"I'm sorry old chap." replied Jennings apologetically, "I was only trying to encourage you."
"Well don't, it's annoying. Anyway, the point I was trying to make was..." he paused for a second, "Look, I've forgotten what it was now;" glaring at Jennings, "But you can be sure that it was valid and very..., er very..."
"Pointy?" suggested Jennings.
"Go boil your head!" retorted Grayson, storming out of the room. If he could have slammed the door behind him, he would have done so. But seeing as all of the portals on the ship had electronic mechanisms, he decided instead to press the 'close' button very firmly indeed.
"What was up with him?" asked Lieutenant Blake, lifting his gaze from his navigation monitor.
"Oh, it's his first trip aboard a holiday cruiser," explained Jennings. "He hasn't accustomed himself to the way things are done around here yet."
"Ah... yes... I see," replied Blake, "We all thought we knew better in our salad days."
"Salad days..." mused Jennings, "Tennyson?"
"You're improving," commiserated Blake, "But no, it's that's the Bards's work: Antony and Cleopatra, Act One My salad days when I was green in judgement, cold in blood."
"So that's where the term 'Caesar salad' comes from then, is it?" mused Jennings.
"Not quite," replied Blake, "Anyway that was Cleopatra speaking."
Such riveting conversation helped time pass for the bridge crew of the Starship Sunshine. Their six week mission to take the latest consignment of rich and famous passengers around the binary star system Callisto, before depositing them on the luxury planetoid Triax 5, and then returning them home. And it may have continued to have been just as uninteresting as all of the previous three hundred and sixty five voyages that Sunshine had made, if it hadn't been for the small chunk of rock that had accidentally placed in her path by an overtaking ore mining ship that had spilled part of its load.
"Red alert, red alert!" cried the NavCom, the ship's computer warning systems.
"Are you sure Nav?" enquired Blake, dashing back over to his monitor. "We've never had a 'Red Alert' before."
"I wouldn't have said it was a Red Alert if it wasn't one," retorted the computer sulkily. "Anyway, I've told you before: it's NavCom, not Nav. How would you feel if I started calling you Bla?"
"Okay, okay Nav, don't get your transistors in a twist. So what is this 'Red Alert' all about then?"
NavCom decided not to persist with the protests regarding the shortening of its name. "A chunk of carbon has found its way into the navigation system; we can't steer the ship. Also..."
"Nav, you'd better put the ship in 'park'," interrupted Blake.
"If you'd let me finish," continued NavCom, "I was about to inform you that it also damaged the propulsion system."
"But shouldn't the heat and the pressure from the engines have evaporated the chunk of rock?" asked Blake, ignoring the computer's retort.
"Well normally yes," explained NavCom "But this piece hit a blind spot, and caused the carbon to crystallise into a thousand kilograms of the hardest stone possible."
"You mean we have a diamond that weighs a ton wedged into our navigation system?" gasped Blake. At the mention of diamonds, Jennings pricked up his ears, as did Grayson, who had surreptitiously re-entered the room upon hearing the alert warning.
"The boy's a genius," said NavCom sarcastically, "You've got it in one. Shall I try using the emergency exhaust systems to disintegrate the blockage?"
"No!!!" cried Paulson, Blake and Jennings in unison.