THE SPACE PIRATES;
PART THREE.
JOHN E. STERLING.

YES

Amazingly enough we find ourselves here, still stuck on MAROON BALLOON,

FIRST MATE GREGSON HAS JUST DISCOVERED THE ENGINE IN THE ENGINE ROOM IS A PULSATING BLUE BLOB

HE IS NOW RACING THROUGH SLEEK CORRIDORS HEADING TO THE BRIDGE WHERE THE CAPTAIN SITS PONDEROUSLY PONDERING THINGS AS HE STARES THROUGH THE ULTIMATELY GROOVY VIEWSCREEN.

JOIN US NOW AS WE ENDURE THIS WEEKS EPISODE;

“THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO CAPTAIN!”

THE door to the bridge slid open,
Firsty ran in, he came to a fast halt and stood there panting in the presence of an a strangely calm Captain.

The skipper kept staring across the alien purple landscape as he asked,
“Well Firsty, did you have fun with all your crankshafts and pistons and things?”

He moved his right hand to his chin and nodded slightly.

Firsty began to regain control of his manic panting, and said,
“It’s a pulsating blue blob thing, I can’t fix it with traditional tools, it’s all blue and blobbery and, I think once we were on vibro, those pirates from blunder stole that engine from the local energy plant, well it might be something like that or it’s an alternate energy source, or it might not be the engine, or if it is, it may be sick or something.” Firsty began panting again.

Firsty noticed the Captain had become stoic, almost as though he had been freeze framed.

“ER, well, anyway, there’s nothing I can do Captain.”

If there was anything ever recorded on this planet in it’s entirely boring history it would have been the Captains scream of frustration, breaking the rules of physics and emanating from a vacuum sealed spacecraft and drifting around the purple planet, but it wasn’t.

A FEW MINUTES PASSED, FIRSTY PRESSED SOME FLASHING BUTTONS ON AN ARMREST, THE CAPTAIN DID SOME SERIOUS EYEBROW RAISING AND LOWERING.

Out of the purple the Captain spoke,
“You know what we should do Firsty?”

The captain continued to stare forward and didn’t see his first mate shaking his head.

‘Well,” He continued, “seeing as escape is not on the cards at this time, I suggest that we find whatever it is this strange ship has to offer up as a galley, we need sustenance, we need refreshments, we need to get royally sloshed and figure some things out, but mainly get sloshed.”

The Captain didn’t see as Firsty nodded his head.

Employing the same tactic he had used to find the ’engine room’, Firsty set about finding the galley, with a plan b installed to just find some rum, or ale, or grog, or anyway.

Many hours later.

“Oh shaggle Firsty, are you sure this is the galley, and or booze storage?”

The two men sat at a long white table, in a room twice the size of the engine room Firsty had discovered. The room was as plain as every other room on the ship save the table and chairs, which helped Firstys intuitive decision that this room was indeed the galley.

Firsty tried to fill the void with conversation.
“Any way as I was saying earlier’ those pirates stole that engine fing on vibro, they couldn’t get it to work, it feeds on sound waves or something, and I fink it is supposed to be humming and vibrating rather than pulsating like it is.’

‘No pots, no pans, no cooking machines, no food at all, what is it that this bearded buffoon thinks makes this a galley,’ thought the Captain.

“I would be better off with a tuning fork than a spanner.” Said Firsty.

‘Now what is he on about?’ Thought the Captain, then said aloud, “For the love of stripes good grebus, give me a bottle of rum, so that I may drown in its solace and maybe skull some certain person with the empty bottle.”

Firsty barely had time to narrow his eyes in response to the thinly veiled threat, because Things had started to happen in the room.

Things were happening alright oblong and square shapes began to form out of the walls. The room itself appeared shimmery as though it was underwater, the table itself began to rise and fall as though it was adjusting itself, every stool but the two they were sitting on disappeared.

“Spirits Captain.” Exclaimed Firsty, gripping his shaking stool hoping it too wouldn’t vanish.

The craziness ceased, no more shimmering, no more disappearing.

“Spirits indeed Firsty.”
The Captains satisfied smile was joined by Firstys’ wide eyes.

There in front of them on the now still table was a beautiful bottle of space rum. It sat there, clear and sparkling, almost blue while the two stared and smiled for a few minutes, it did not go, it did not move, it did not speak, it just sat there being a bottle of rum.

“Firsty,” said the Captain, Open her up mate.”
Firsty would usually say at this point, ‘why don’t you do it yourself you cowardly wanker.’ But this was different, this was rum.

And it had been a while.

Firsty reached for the bottle quickly snapping off the top and taking a swig before it exploded or something worse. The swig turned out to be just fine.
“Excellent Firsty.” Exclaimed the Captain, grabbing the bottle and taking his own swig.

About half way down they came to a realization that maybe the bottle of rum appeared simply because the Captain had asked it too.

Drunk now.
No time to reason the whys and wherefores just ask for another bottle of rum, they did, it appeared.

Now, think man think, ask for some food.

PIZZA, CURRY, PIZZA, CURRY, PIZZA, CUR, OH FUCK IT, LET’S GET BOTH, AND CHAPATTIS, AND SOME ALOO, YEAH ALOO, YOU’LL NEVER EAT IT, YEAH I WILL, NOT AFTER THAT NAAN, YOUR RIGHT FUCK THE ALOO, BETTER GET SOME LAGER TOO, YEAH YOUR RIGHT, I WANT SIX CHAPATTIS, FUCK OFF, SIX, WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM IT’S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR IT OR ANYTHING, IT’S JUST APPEARING IN FRONT OF US, ALL FUCKING RIGHT SIX CHAPATTIS IT IS, GREEDY WANKER, YEAH BETTER GET SOME LAGER TOO, AND SOME FREEZING COLD MUSCADET, WHAT ABOUT SOME PINOT GRIGIOT, YEAH GOOD IDEA, MAKE SURE IT’S FUCKING COLD THOUGH, AND DON’T FORGET MY ALOO, YEAH, AND GET SOME LAGER. ALLRIGHT.

And so what a night it was. They did not starve and they did not become sober.

Although strictly speaking, there is no morning on Maroon Balloon;

THE NEXT MORNING;

Firsty was trying to remember how the Mariachi band managed to become involved with the mix of things, and the dancing, and now with his tired eyes he was looking at his Captain who was wide awake and just finishing a large glass, (of fucking freezing.) Muscadet, as though it was his first of the session.
Firsty let his tired head, which contained his tired eyes to hit the table.
“You know Firsty, that was an excellent band, good choice,’ He poured himself another wine, “Shame you passed out before those girls arrived though.”
Before Firsty could weakly ask where the girls went the Captain spoke again.

“Firsty,” he said announcing, “ I have figured out a way to get off this stinking purple planet.”

Firsty lifted his head and opened his eyes.

HA!, WHERE DID THOSE GIRLS COME FROM, WOW THAT WAS ALMOST A GOOD ONE.

WHAT IS THE CAPTAINS’ PLAN, IS HE JUST SPACE DRUNK, OR SPACE CRAZY, OR SPACE CRAZY/DRUNK?

AS USUAL TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR WHATEVER REASONS YOU CAN THINK OF, BYE FOR NOW, AND REMEMBER APART FROM THE LAGER, IF YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE CURRY MAKE SURE THAT WINE IS FUCKING COLD.

JOHN E STERLING.