SKYTREK - CHAPTER 12 (standard:humor, 3550 words) [12/15] show all parts
Author: Danny Miami	Added: May 23 2010	Views/Reads: 2165/1735	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapter 12 of the comedy adventure.

CHAPTER TWELVE 

“I must get Ricky to stop smoking that vile stuff of his. We're going to
need strong, clear minds if we're to save Earth. Ricky has a bright, 
intelligent mind but he's always hypnotised by that damned weed.” 

CAPTAIN KORK 

PART ONE 

As soon as Kharg and Draygo had vanished, the Captain took out his
Transceiver. “Captain to bridge,” he said into it. 

He waited but there was no response from the Orion. 

“Captain to bridge,” he repeated. 

Mr Sprock strolled over to the force-field and ran his hand along it. “I
don't think you'll get a response, Jim,” he said. “This is probably 
blocking our communication line.” 

The Captain turned to Stan. “So you and your people live here?” he
asked. 

Stan nodded enthusiastically. “That's right, Jim God. We live on Here.” 

The Captain frowned then shook his head. “Fine. How high is this, shall
we say, invisible wall?” 

“Oh it's pretty high, Jim God,” Stan told him. 

The Captain smiled at him. “How high does it stretch?” he asked
patiently. 

Stan scratched his head as he considered the question. “Higher than lots
of mammoths on top of each other,” he answered eventually. 

“Just as I suspected, Jim,” said Sprock. “I think we can safely assume
it's going to be impossible to contact the Orion from this side of the 
force-field.” 

“So how do we get out?” mused the Captain. “If Anti-Matter didn't damage
it then our laser pistols certainly won't.” 

Stan swaggered forward. “You want the door open, Gods?” he asked. “Then
Stan's your man. Allow me.” 

Checking that the flock were watching, he strolled pompously over to the
force-field and stopped in front of it. With his hands by his side, he 
flexed his fingers a few times then suddenly pointed his right index 
finger at the force-field like a cowboy in a western drawing his gun 
and firing. 

Nothing happened. 

Stan the gunslinger frowned and peered closely at his finger. He blew on
it, reloaded and dropped his hand to his side again. He spread his 
legs, steadied himself then stared meanly at the force-field for a few 
seconds before drawing his ‘gun' and firing. 

Nothing happened. No blue line. No magic bullet. 

“The bastard!” he said with feeling, voicing his low opinion of the
recently departed Kharg. “The lyin ungrateful bastard! I was supposed 
to be able to do that zappin bit. That just shows you what God's like, 
doesn't it?” he ranted. “Soon as He gets what He wants, He's off. 
Bugger his faithful followers. An after us waitin years for the 
bastard.” He glanced at the Captain and Mr Sprock who were curiously 
watching his outburst. “Do you Gods want any followers?” he asked 
hopefully, seeking to transfer his allegiance. 

“Hi guys!” a familiar voice called from the other side of the
force-field. “Ricky!” exclaimed the Captain. 

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Stan. “Another God! There's certainly a lot of


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