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[Spaceship Zero] Q-Ship (actually updated 19 May 2007)
- Thread starter Capellan
- Start date
Capellan
Explorer
"Blast Off!" - Part 10
"Why, hello Darla." Fury gives the blonde a smile that's half an inch short of a leer, "I didn't know you'd be assigned here."
"I'm sure you didn't." Darla replies, archly, "You never call, you never write ... and you certainly never mentioned your new friend." She gestures languidly at S'Ondra, "Latest conquest, Johnny?"
"I am Venusian Princess S'Ondra." the other woman declares, her back straightening. "I am certainly not his conquest."
"Well, that's a surprise," Darla shrugs, "Don't tell me your skills must have slipped as much as your standards, Johnny?"
"Perhaps you could take us to see the Base Commander," Fury smiles bravely over S'Ondra's inarticulate gurgles of outrage, and links his arm with that of the beautiful blonde, "I'm sure we can continue this discussion later."
"I do not zink zat would be wise." Gustav shakes his head, "We do not have ze time for ze fraternising, ja?"
"Oh, there's always time for fraternising, Doctor." Fury calls over his shoulder.
Darla leads the four space adventurers along a series of plain, white-washed corridors, then knocks respectfully at a brass-plated door.
"Come in." the voice is male, stern and fatherly, but with a smooth timbre that doubtless set female hearts aquiver, thirty years ago - and could still do so now. The group enters, revealing a sparsely-appointed office. Seated behind a white, plastic-veneer desk is a man in the uniform of a Space Force Commander. His hair is thinning slightly and his face shows signs of a life well-lived, but he's still fit and hale. A brass plate on his desk names him as Commander Dawson.
"Ah, Lieutenant Gregg, I see you've brought out visitors." He waves for them all to take a seat, "Good to see you, John."
"And you, Sir." Fury salutes smartly, then grins and pulls a silver foil bag out of the box he is carrying, "Fresh Prince of Wales, sir. Just came in with the last shipment."
"I see you're as popular with the shipping clerks as I was at your age." Commander Dawson smiles and takes the bag, "I think I'll put a pot on, now. Are you staying long?"
"Just a whistle-stop visit, sir. Actually, Lieutenant Gregg -" Fury gestures at Darla, "- has asked me to take a look at an anomaly in her readings. If we may be dismissed?"
"Certainly." The older man nods, "Let me know if anything big comes up."
"Oh, I'm sure it will."
"Eh?" Gustav blinks.
"I said, 'I sure will'." Fury pats the scientist on the shoulder, "Too many dashed Americans in the Force these days. Must be picking up bad habits from them."
The Captain and the smugly smiling Darla Gregg disappear from the room, as Commander Dawson invites the others to take a seat and join him for refreshments.
"Vell, actually, I vos vanting to hear about your operations here." Doctor Gustav nibbles on a shortbread biscuit from Fury's 'emergency supplies', "Have you discovered any signs yet of ze hostile alien intelligence?"
"No signs so far." Dawson shakes his head, then brightens, "But we're still looking!"
As the Commander passes around cups - S'Ondra pointedly refuses the offer - the door opens, readmitting Fury and Darla Gregg, whose once perfect hair is now a little mussed.
"Ah, Fury, you're back quickly."
"No doubt it was a very small anomaly." Archie deadpans.
"Well, since you've expressed an interest in our operation, Doctor, I'll have the Lieutenant show you around the base." Dawson offers.
"Oh, zat will be vonderful." Gustav appears to have forgotten his earlier concerns about wasting time.
"Perhaps we should be on our way?" Fury suggests, looking slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of keeping S'Ondra and Darla in the same room any longer than is necessary.
"No, we really must see the base." S'Ondra gives him a dismissive glance, "I know you've have seen everything the Lieutenant has to show, Captain - as has everyone in Space Force, I should expect - but the rest of us haven't had the tour, so far."
Darla sputters for a moment, then gives the Venusian a glare by which the Princess - who grew up with people who really were trying to kill her - is utterly unintimidated. Finally, the Lieutenant musters a thin-lipped smile.
"Well, I won't show you everything - some of the systems are very technical, and I wouldn't want to bore you - but there are some areas, such as the main monitoring station, are simple enough for you to appreciate."
"So that would be where you work, then?"
A very thin-lipped smile indeed.
"And of course, there are other areas that you can't access due to security reasons. The crew quarters, for instance. Only serving Space Force personnel - like Johnny here - can enter those."
"I'm sure he already has." S'Ondra dismisses the thought with a regal toss of her head. "So we shan't need to go there."
All things considered, it's remarkable that the tour concludes without actual bloodshed.
"Why, hello Darla." Fury gives the blonde a smile that's half an inch short of a leer, "I didn't know you'd be assigned here."
"I'm sure you didn't." Darla replies, archly, "You never call, you never write ... and you certainly never mentioned your new friend." She gestures languidly at S'Ondra, "Latest conquest, Johnny?"
"I am Venusian Princess S'Ondra." the other woman declares, her back straightening. "I am certainly not his conquest."
"Well, that's a surprise," Darla shrugs, "Don't tell me your skills must have slipped as much as your standards, Johnny?"
"Perhaps you could take us to see the Base Commander," Fury smiles bravely over S'Ondra's inarticulate gurgles of outrage, and links his arm with that of the beautiful blonde, "I'm sure we can continue this discussion later."
"I do not zink zat would be wise." Gustav shakes his head, "We do not have ze time for ze fraternising, ja?"
"Oh, there's always time for fraternising, Doctor." Fury calls over his shoulder.
Darla leads the four space adventurers along a series of plain, white-washed corridors, then knocks respectfully at a brass-plated door.
"Come in." the voice is male, stern and fatherly, but with a smooth timbre that doubtless set female hearts aquiver, thirty years ago - and could still do so now. The group enters, revealing a sparsely-appointed office. Seated behind a white, plastic-veneer desk is a man in the uniform of a Space Force Commander. His hair is thinning slightly and his face shows signs of a life well-lived, but he's still fit and hale. A brass plate on his desk names him as Commander Dawson.
"Ah, Lieutenant Gregg, I see you've brought out visitors." He waves for them all to take a seat, "Good to see you, John."
"And you, Sir." Fury salutes smartly, then grins and pulls a silver foil bag out of the box he is carrying, "Fresh Prince of Wales, sir. Just came in with the last shipment."
"I see you're as popular with the shipping clerks as I was at your age." Commander Dawson smiles and takes the bag, "I think I'll put a pot on, now. Are you staying long?"
"Just a whistle-stop visit, sir. Actually, Lieutenant Gregg -" Fury gestures at Darla, "- has asked me to take a look at an anomaly in her readings. If we may be dismissed?"
"Certainly." The older man nods, "Let me know if anything big comes up."
"Oh, I'm sure it will."
"Eh?" Gustav blinks.
"I said, 'I sure will'." Fury pats the scientist on the shoulder, "Too many dashed Americans in the Force these days. Must be picking up bad habits from them."
The Captain and the smugly smiling Darla Gregg disappear from the room, as Commander Dawson invites the others to take a seat and join him for refreshments.
"Vell, actually, I vos vanting to hear about your operations here." Doctor Gustav nibbles on a shortbread biscuit from Fury's 'emergency supplies', "Have you discovered any signs yet of ze hostile alien intelligence?"
"No signs so far." Dawson shakes his head, then brightens, "But we're still looking!"
As the Commander passes around cups - S'Ondra pointedly refuses the offer - the door opens, readmitting Fury and Darla Gregg, whose once perfect hair is now a little mussed.
"Ah, Fury, you're back quickly."
"No doubt it was a very small anomaly." Archie deadpans.
"Well, since you've expressed an interest in our operation, Doctor, I'll have the Lieutenant show you around the base." Dawson offers.
"Oh, zat will be vonderful." Gustav appears to have forgotten his earlier concerns about wasting time.
"Perhaps we should be on our way?" Fury suggests, looking slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of keeping S'Ondra and Darla in the same room any longer than is necessary.
"No, we really must see the base." S'Ondra gives him a dismissive glance, "I know you've have seen everything the Lieutenant has to show, Captain - as has everyone in Space Force, I should expect - but the rest of us haven't had the tour, so far."
Darla sputters for a moment, then gives the Venusian a glare by which the Princess - who grew up with people who really were trying to kill her - is utterly unintimidated. Finally, the Lieutenant musters a thin-lipped smile.
"Well, I won't show you everything - some of the systems are very technical, and I wouldn't want to bore you - but there are some areas, such as the main monitoring station, are simple enough for you to appreciate."
"So that would be where you work, then?"
A very thin-lipped smile indeed.
"And of course, there are other areas that you can't access due to security reasons. The crew quarters, for instance. Only serving Space Force personnel - like Johnny here - can enter those."
"I'm sure he already has." S'Ondra dismisses the thought with a regal toss of her head. "So we shan't need to go there."
All things considered, it's remarkable that the tour concludes without actual bloodshed.
Last edited:
Capellan
Explorer
"Blast Off!" - Part 11
The designated location for the test of the Q-Drive lies approximately ten thousand miles outside Pluto's orbit. Exactly thirty-five hours and fifty-nine minutes after launching from Mission City, the Pathfinder glides into position.
"Spot on time, as promised." Fury announces with an ever-so-slight air of smugness. He leans forward and toggles the radio control, "Mission Control, this is Pathfinder. We are in position, and await your clearance."
Immediately, the speakers crackle to life,
"Pathfinder, this is Mission Control. Your mission is 'go'. Repeat: you mission is 'go'. Godspeed, Pathfinder."
"Acknowledged, Mission Control. Mission is 'go'. Launch in T-minus 20 seconds." Fury half-turns in his seat, "Doctor, it's your show now."
Gustav busies himself at his console, pressing buttons and flicking switches, muttering constantly under his breath as he does so,
"Ja." He announces at last, "Ve are ready to get zis show on ze road, as zey say."
He pushes the button.
White light flares.
The crew are silhouetted in their places. Fury has a hand half-raised to shield his eyes.
The brilliant glare bleeds around them, their shapes disappearing into the intense white light.
Everything is silent.
.
.
.
.
And then there is a wrench of colour and confusion, a sudden babble of noise, and the light is gone. The Pathfinder floats, as it did before, in the dark void of space.
"All systems nominal." Fury is punching up diagnostics across the piloting console. His hands move with smooth efficiency, and only the slight tension in his voice suggests that he is in any way unsettled by what just occurred.
"My sensors show all crew in good health." Archie reports, "Though Captain Fury needs to clean behind his ears more thoroughly."
Fury ignores the robot,
"Navigation systems place us in the Andromeda Cluster. All other systems show green. Transition successful." Now, a note of admiration creeps into his voice, "Congratulations, Doctor, the Q-Drive is a success."
"Ja, of course." Gustav's response is all but unconscious, his attention focussed entirely on the view through the cockpit's canopy, "I am a genius."
"You couldn't even find a matching pair of socks, if it wasn't for Archie," S'Ondra teases her stepfather, then gives him a hug, "But you are a genius, all the same."
"Deploying the hydraulic arm." Fury seems oblivious to the tender father-daughter moment, "Space matter concentrations are low, so I'm increasing power to the suction coils." He studies the readouts for a few moments, "Computer estimates that collecting sufficient sample matter will take eight hours. I suggest we settle in and make some tea."
"Tea?" Gustav waves his hand dismissively, "Archie - break out ze schnapps!"
The four adventurers settle down to wait, sipping their respective drinks of choice and admiring the view. The Andromeda Cluster proves every bit as beautiful as Gustav has promised; swathes of brightly-coloured gases flow and eddy around them.
Eventually, a series of lights across the top of S'Ondra's console begin to flash light up,
"Sample bins are full." She reports.
"Then let's head back home, and collect our medals." Fury gives a grin, "I'll have to show you my collection some time, Princess. I keep them in a drawer at home."
"I doubt I'd be interested in anything that comes out of your drawers, Captain."
"Q-Drive ready for activation." Gustav announces, and presses the button.
Whiteness. Silence.
The universe snaps back into place, and Fury immediately runs a new set of diagnostics, his fingers flying across the console.
"A little more warning would be appreciated next time, Doctor." He suggests, tersely, "Everything appears nominal. Navigation reads Pluto at ten thousand miles, bearing Starboard-eighty."
He turns on the radio,
"Mission Control, this is Pathfinder. Mission successful. We're on our way home."
The soft hiss of the open radio channel fills the cabin.
Seconds tick by without a reply.
Fury frowns, leaning forward to activate the radio once more,
" Mission Control, this is Pathfinder. I repeat: mission successful. Please respond, Mission Control."
There is no answer.
The designated location for the test of the Q-Drive lies approximately ten thousand miles outside Pluto's orbit. Exactly thirty-five hours and fifty-nine minutes after launching from Mission City, the Pathfinder glides into position.
"Spot on time, as promised." Fury announces with an ever-so-slight air of smugness. He leans forward and toggles the radio control, "Mission Control, this is Pathfinder. We are in position, and await your clearance."
Immediately, the speakers crackle to life,
"Pathfinder, this is Mission Control. Your mission is 'go'. Repeat: you mission is 'go'. Godspeed, Pathfinder."
"Acknowledged, Mission Control. Mission is 'go'. Launch in T-minus 20 seconds." Fury half-turns in his seat, "Doctor, it's your show now."
Gustav busies himself at his console, pressing buttons and flicking switches, muttering constantly under his breath as he does so,
"Ja." He announces at last, "Ve are ready to get zis show on ze road, as zey say."
He pushes the button.
White light flares.
The crew are silhouetted in their places. Fury has a hand half-raised to shield his eyes.
The brilliant glare bleeds around them, their shapes disappearing into the intense white light.
Everything is silent.
.
.
.
.
And then there is a wrench of colour and confusion, a sudden babble of noise, and the light is gone. The Pathfinder floats, as it did before, in the dark void of space.
"All systems nominal." Fury is punching up diagnostics across the piloting console. His hands move with smooth efficiency, and only the slight tension in his voice suggests that he is in any way unsettled by what just occurred.
"My sensors show all crew in good health." Archie reports, "Though Captain Fury needs to clean behind his ears more thoroughly."
Fury ignores the robot,
"Navigation systems place us in the Andromeda Cluster. All other systems show green. Transition successful." Now, a note of admiration creeps into his voice, "Congratulations, Doctor, the Q-Drive is a success."
"Ja, of course." Gustav's response is all but unconscious, his attention focussed entirely on the view through the cockpit's canopy, "I am a genius."
"You couldn't even find a matching pair of socks, if it wasn't for Archie," S'Ondra teases her stepfather, then gives him a hug, "But you are a genius, all the same."
"Deploying the hydraulic arm." Fury seems oblivious to the tender father-daughter moment, "Space matter concentrations are low, so I'm increasing power to the suction coils." He studies the readouts for a few moments, "Computer estimates that collecting sufficient sample matter will take eight hours. I suggest we settle in and make some tea."
"Tea?" Gustav waves his hand dismissively, "Archie - break out ze schnapps!"
The four adventurers settle down to wait, sipping their respective drinks of choice and admiring the view. The Andromeda Cluster proves every bit as beautiful as Gustav has promised; swathes of brightly-coloured gases flow and eddy around them.
Eventually, a series of lights across the top of S'Ondra's console begin to flash light up,
"Sample bins are full." She reports.
"Then let's head back home, and collect our medals." Fury gives a grin, "I'll have to show you my collection some time, Princess. I keep them in a drawer at home."
"I doubt I'd be interested in anything that comes out of your drawers, Captain."
"Q-Drive ready for activation." Gustav announces, and presses the button.
Whiteness. Silence.
The universe snaps back into place, and Fury immediately runs a new set of diagnostics, his fingers flying across the console.
"A little more warning would be appreciated next time, Doctor." He suggests, tersely, "Everything appears nominal. Navigation reads Pluto at ten thousand miles, bearing Starboard-eighty."
He turns on the radio,
"Mission Control, this is Pathfinder. Mission successful. We're on our way home."
The soft hiss of the open radio channel fills the cabin.
Seconds tick by without a reply.
Fury frowns, leaning forward to activate the radio once more,
" Mission Control, this is Pathfinder. I repeat: mission successful. Please respond, Mission Control."
There is no answer.
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