WARNING. The story below is science fiction. It tells the story of the entrapment of Ken Alderson in a comet. Read on if you dare. You have been warned..... Of Gas and Comets (originally included in Kens Stories From the Edge) by Ken Alderson The beryllium alloy hull of the Strickler rang like a bell as ice peppered the LAS spacecraft on approach to the Comet Alderson. Below the silver blue craft tumbled the potato-shaped core of the spectacular astro-visitor they had been sent to destroy. With each slow revolution, a gas jet of jokes shot out. Commander Peak did not know how long the joke shields would hold or when the joke containers would fill to capacity and burst, emitting a stream of killing jokes toward the Earth. But he did know one thing. The orders from Astro-League were quite clear. Seek out the comet and destroy it. But how could he save their fellow astronomer Ken, now trapped inside the comet wearing his Elvis space suit, imprisoned there by an alien civilization intent on destroying Earth’s population with his jokes? Peak “thought” a command to his vid-screen, beginning the process of waking his crew. He had been the first to awaken. With his consciousness restored by intravenous coffee and blood-warmer, he had been formulating the plan to destroy the comet yet save the poor wretch tumbling below. Bringing himself back to the task at hand, he scanned the controls. The new thrust system was working perfectly. Based on the concept of controlled nuclear explosion propulsion, this one was dreamed up by Rob Massey. At the core of the ship was the Massey WC Reactor, a device that turned the gas contained in millions of White Castles into the energy necessary to push the tons of craft they called home across the universe. His rear projection screens showed the yellow fog spewing away from the ship. Commander Peak pushed away from the ship’s console, turning to face his crew. As the Life Systems whirred into action, he surveyed each of his fellow explorers. Bob Hart’s Womb (the nickname for the suspended animation chambers) was shaped like a paint can, with Bob’s body suspended in the covering liquid. As the chamber emptied, the walls were evenly covered, with one coat. Brian Seig lay in a barn-like chamber among the almost skeletal remains of telescopes. Their parts surrounded him and Pat had to laugh at the list of telescopes and their prices pasted to the chamber window. Spacecop Burba lay in a kick-boxing pose. Next to her lay her Lasermatic Light Cannon, ready for action in case this mission did not go as planned. Doctor Stearman’s head was encased in a dome with leads connected to the ship’s computer. It was all that was left of the brave scientist who had exploded from a “lecture overload”. Only Doc Hayne’s fast actions had saved his brain. He had consulted his Palm Pilot and used thread from a sewing kit lifted from a space Ramada Inn, completing the operation in milliseconds. The Head, as Richard was now known, wore his hat, the only possession he owned. But thank the Space gods for him. He was the navigation system that had gotten them this far. Drew Foster lay encased in his portable planetarium. His voice could be heard inside the star chamber, droning on in an explanation of the stars to school aged holograms. Ray Hubbard, inventor of the Hubbard Space Telescope and planetary Plumber, floated in the bowl of his toilet-like suspended animation chamber, dreaming of large fees and enjoying the knowledge that his chamber didn’t have a flush handle. Rob Massey’s sleep chamber was surrounded with signs touting “Rental Habitations” as he dreamed of apartments in space. Jeff McCaffrey slept soundly on mounds of coins, encased in his money vault. Peak pushed the wake up alarms bringing all of his crew to consciousness. Below them, deep inside the comet, Ken Alderson lay still, his encyclopedic mind stuck on a pun. He had been imprisoned there, surrounded by rock, but with space left to house the huge joke draining device stuck into his brain. It was this insidious alien machine that was sucking the jokes from his mind, bypassing the Strickler’s joke collectors and sending them towards earth on an invisible frequency that was affecting billions. Everywhere on earth, people were spouting one-liners. Flight controllers were telling pilots “Hey, I don’t have any idea where you are or how high you’re flying, but did you hear the one about the....hello, you there? Oh, well”. Truck drivers were laughing as they smuggled loads of executives into Mexico to pick melons. The Holy Father was even getting in on the act. “Sorry, Cardinal SiCola, you can’t be pope. Who would follow a Pope SiCola?”. The Strickler’s proximity alarms went off, indicating the approach of another spacecraft. Commander Peak flipped on the Big Screen to see who was commanding the other ship. After the static cleared, the interior of the Uof L spacecraft ASTRODOME came into view. The evil clone of Don Clouse appeared on the screen, his toupee slightly askew. The real Clouse, their own Supreme Commander, was kept in suspended animation aboard the Strickler behind a glass that said “Break in Case of Emergency“. The evil Clouse Clone aimed his head at the screen, reflecting an incredible beam of light at the Strickler, attempting to blind the crew. Peak shielded his eyes, speaking first. “State your purpose. One false move and we unleash all the collected Alderson jokes at you.” The Clouse Clone replied. “No, we come in peace. We have been sent by U of L to bring Ken back for study and to charge anyone two dollars for parking on this comet. Our spacecraft is B&C (Beer and Chili) powered and if you do not give him to us, we turn our ship around and unleash the power of our Flatulence Weapon, blasting you into sub-atomic particles”. Just then, giant tractor beams shot out from each ship toward Comet Alderson. Turning around, both vessels began accelerating in a cosmic tug-of-war, the yellow fog of one and the brown fog of the other surrounding the comet in a killing cloud. Ken’s air was running out. But he had one last chance. His Elvis spacesuit was equipped with several devices including the Hip Shaker. He moved his thumb to the control and just as he felt his lungs laboring for air, he pushed the button. His large rear began shaking. As it oscillated, the rock surrounding him began to move, sending the comet into a quake. Splits began forming in the surface and with a silent roar, the Comet Alderson split down the middle, freeing the Fat One. The more powerful tractor beam of the LAS craft pulled him toward safety. “Thank you, thank you very much”, was all he could gasp as he was hauled into the Strickler. As the crew cheered, the Clouse Clone could be seen on the screen screaming and waving his fist as a crew member polished his head, “You won this time, LAS. But we’ll be back.“ The crew of the Strickler knew that they would. As they tied Ken up and put a gag in his mouth, Peak sent the message to the Astro-league. “Earth is safe. Comet Alderson is destroyed but we saved Ken. He has promised no more jokes.“ But they couldn’t see that the evil side of Ken, his inner Elvis, was smiling, knowing that the Great Impersonator had inhaled the deadly brown and yellow gasses, and would explode any minute, spraying the interior of the Strickler with songs, jokes, polyester and rhinestones. Would they survive? Is this the end of the crew of the Strickler? Stay tuned.
Posted on: Thu, 13 Nov 2014 04:24:03 +0000
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