The most cliched sci-fi story ever

[STAR-TREKKED]

the man headed further down the alleyway, all he coud hear was the screams of the scientis as they were bein brutally mutalated...

 

[Interference]

An eery glow was emanating from the far end of the alleyway. Cautiously, timidly, the young man, who if he had a name he had all-but forgotten it by now, edged his way towards the incandessence, which glowed now brighter than the sun - and then some.

Then subsided.

He blinked twice. After-images danced across his retina and made pictures in his mind that he felt he couldn't trust. Was it? Could it be?

Emerging from the light was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, green-eyed, blonde-haired - and completely naked.

"Cor," he thought.

"It's you, isn't it?" the girl asked. "It's really you!" and she ran over to him, threw her hands about his neck and hugged him.

"Grand-dad!" she exclaimed in delight.

"Aw, heck," the young man muttered.

"I'm Seraphina Saffronella, your grand-daughter from sixty years in the future. I've come back in time to prevent the history that I know, the history that led to the enslavement of the human race."

"You couldn't have put some clothes on first," he responded, embarrassment tinting his flesh, excitement subsiding and easing the pressure in his pant-region.

"Human women are not allowed to wear clothes in my century," she said. "Is it not the same where you come from?"

"You realise that if you're my grand-daughter, that's a damned stupid question."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, frowningly in a querulous manner of one frowning because she just doesn't get it, you know the kind of frown I mean.

"What's what supposed to mean?" he asked.

"What mean supposed that to 's?" she asked again, her head jerking like a marrionette, her lips twitching, her shoulder jerking.

"Hmm," he said. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"I'm not in Kansas anymore," she agreed.

"Well, beam me up and set phasers to stun," he retorted, and might have stopped to say more, but the scientists had just stopped screaming and he realised what that meant. "They're playing poker, now," he thought grimly.

 

[Peter Graham]

There was nowhere else to go. The young man and Seraphina walked back down the alley. Luckily, convenient chunks of brickwork, thick plumes of smoke from air vents and handily placed metal fire escapes all contrived to prevent anyone catching a glimpse of Seraphina's assets.

Even from where they were, they could hear more screaming from the other end of the alley. The scientists lay in a dead heap of mangled extras. It was clear that the alien had moved back into the street to carry on the sort of indiscriminate slaughter that could only be stopped by a peace loving (but incredibly tough) hero with a very minor (but colourful) drink problem and a good line in fatalistic wisecracking.

The young man knew what he had to do. He took off his shirt and ran his hand through his mane of luxuriant hair. His enormous biceps rippled under his white vest and the sun glinted off his Great Teeth. He held his stomach in as much as he could. God, he needed a beer!

"God, I need a beer," he said to Seraphina. "But first, we got us a planet to save!"

Picking up a carelessly discarded M16 and two heavy bandoliers of ammunition, the young man stepped out of the end of the alley and turned to face the line of evil battlebots which had just cruelly murdered that nice Mrs Simpkins from the cake shop.

 

[Interference]

The young man discovered the soft part of his heart just long enough to mourne the old lady's passing.

"Poor woman," he said to his grand daughter, "awful cakes."

He pointed the muzzle of his M16 at the battlebots and opened fire.

"This is for the scientists," he screamed. "This is for my maw and paw," he hollered. "This is for the little boy who lives down the lane," he intoned at somewhere around sixty-five decibels, give or take. "And this is for all the people killed in the opening scenes that everyone's forgotten by now, but they were very dear to me, if I could just remember their names!!"

The battlebots returned fire and the walls about them began to crumble and collapse as everybody missed every target worth hitting.

"Damnedpre-watershed firefights," the young man growled grimly between gritted teeth, almost chomping his cigar in two - oh, he had a cigar, did I mention that? Cuban. Very big. Very butch.

Just then a little boy emerged from the shadows.

"Noooooooooooo!", Seraphina screamed. "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" she hollered. "No-ho-ho" she coughed cos her throat was pretty sore by now. She threw herself into the path of the cross-fire.

A pointless, futile, but heroic death.

"Nooooooooooooo!" the young man etc, etc.

He ran to her, cradling her head in his lap, tears pouring from his (otherwise quite maccho) eyes.

"Why?" he asked. "Why is it always the good ones who die?"

The battlebots, who presumed the question to have been directed at them ceased firing and went into a huddle to discuss the issue among themselves.

"Take me instead!" the young man blah-de-blah, "Take meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Excuse me," the little boy interrupted. "I'm from down the lane. You said you had something for me?"

 

[areader]

The little boys' eyes rested on the dead girls form (non-literally).

His eyes glowed a greenish read as the lead-lines, energy of the universe coalesced and hummed in the air around him. He stuck out his hand and the tip of his finger glowed . Reaching out, he touched the girl's hand almost tentatively. Seraphina sucked in a pained raw breath of air and her chest heaved. Her eyes blinked open in confusion.
The hero gave a muffled sob into his shirt sleeve and in a dry hoarse whisper croaked, "Seraphina. Oh Seraphina."
The little boy smiled a strange smile and the wind blew through the stillness of the air.
The boy looked urgently at the bots, how long would the time lapse last. He flicked the buttons on his wristpad and bit his lips.
"You don't know me..but I am your son and great-grandson from the distant future...a world where man and machines are at war..."

 

[timelord4]

The boy sighed. 'Wish the Doctor was here.' He looked along the narrow alley as if the comical phone box might magically appear.

'Who?' Seraphina whispered.

'Exactly.' Ern replied, casting his gaze across her body, inspecting his handywork. Mmm...not bad for an old boiler, he thought.

'Look mum. We got to get to California, there's a guy out there that can maybe help us against these things.' Staring at the wreckage of the bus he could see the driver's body hanging out the front window. It's head suddenly snapped upright and silver flashes flared from its intense eyes. Slowly it crawled its way out to stand at the end of the alley. Muscles bunched and moving itself with a murderous intent, it advanced towards them.

He heard Seraphina whimper. Despair shivered along her naked body and he felt the urge to gather her close. Pulling the M16 tightly to him, he strode forward to meet the enemy.

He called behind him. 'Don't worry. I'll be back!'

 

[Interference]

Before our hero had taken another step, there was another blinding flash of light, this time in - oh, I don't know - purple, let's say, Yeah, purple hues.

"What thu -" the young man said as a figure emerged from the light.

"Hullo, everybody. I'm Ted," the figure said, and looking at the young boy he said, "I'm your son," to the girl he said, "your grandson," and finally to our hero, "and your great-great grandson. I come from an even further distant future where everything is just peachy and nobody hates anybody and everybody's at peace, sort of like the Star Trek universe, if you know what I mean."

Everyone nodded. For thousands of years the Star Trek franchise would keep going and going like a runaway photocopier without a cancel button, each subsequent copy degrading so much that any resemblence to a continuity of any sort would become a mere illusion - yes Zephram Corcran will mutate at least once more to become a Centauran woman and the whole Companion episode will, if mentioned at all, be seen as a lesbian fantasy! (Editorial note: cut out the editorial notes.)

"Annyhoo," the newcomer continued, "I just popped by to tell you everything's going to turn out all right, so you can all relax and let the future unfold as it's meant to do."

"How can this be?" our hero enquired.

"Simple," Ted said. "We just fix one little mistake and we're all back to normal."

The newcomer then pointed his finger at his great-great grandfather and it fired a missile that glittered and sparkled mesmerically on its progress so that all anyone could do was stand around and watch. The missile exploded as it touched the young hero's chest and he fell forward and dissipated into the air from his most basic molecules to his fundamental quarks.

"Golly," Seraphina said, "he's the last person I'd have expected to go to pieces!"

The hero was completely, utterly and irretrievably dead - though, let's not kid ourselves, no doubt he'll get out of even that somehow. There's a sequel to be thought of and all the tee-shirts and coffee mugs the money-men have started work on and then there's the spin-off series to consider. I mean, you just can't go killing off people in tee-shirts without ramifications. But for now, this is how it looks. The guy is toast. (Editorial note: I thought I said to cut out the editorial notes. I might as well be talking to myself!)

"Ta-ta, then," called the newcomer as he vanished in a blinding flash of peuce and a puff of paradox.

At that moment the battlebots remembered why they were called battlebots, and the creature at the end of the alley completed the process of bunching his muscles - it takes so long when you have so many, but you can't have a good fight without doing the warm-ups first, you might hurt yourself! - and the battle yet again recommenced once more for an third or fourth (I've lost count) time.

"Oh, pooh," said Seraphina; and to the boy beside her she added, "you brought me back to life for this??"

She picked up the M16.

"California, here we come," she murmured enigmatically ...

 

[timelord4]

The explosion was close.

Too close. Twisted metal, concrete and ... something. Something that once had hair and now hung from her dress in whispery threads, showered the alley in a cloud of dust. Seraphina staggered to her feet and looked around. The thing at the end of the alley was gone. She flicked the offending matter away with a finger and brushed herself down.

Damn these things, she thought. My flatmate dead; part of his body still stuck to her finger (arise now Hero!) and she looked towards the boy huddled in the corner. All this because the government wouldn't pay their electricity bill. She cursed again. We could have seen this coming, the arrival, if the power had been on at the conservatory. The people had a right to be told! Money. It all boiled down to money. The rich got richer...yeah. So many with so little, so few with so much. She hawked up a gobbet of phlegm and spat in disgust.

Retreiving the M16 and clenching it to her, she bent beside the boy helping him up. 'Come on darling, we've got a long way to go yet.'

Turning to the dust covered doorway beside her she pushed open the door.

The noise inside the club did little to take away the deafening sound of the explosion.

 

[Interference]

The club owner, wearing a white jacket over a shirt and bow tie, nodded an acknowledgement as they came in before he returned to his whiskey sour and the thoughts that would haunt him all his days. The black piano player played a tune on the white keys of his piano and sang a lament about the passage of time. A group of Frenchmen sang the Marseilleise as a smaller enclave of uniformed militiamen competed with a rendition Lili Marlene.

"Every night," the club's owner muttered to the jovial barman, "the same frickin' thing."

"Yes," the barman replied, "why can't-a everyone live-a in harmony-a and sing-a at home? They're-a drowning out-a the juke box, apart-a from anything else-a."

The club's owner hurled his glass at the mirror behind the bar.

"I told you not to mention that name around here," and he grabbed the bottle off the counter and went back to his office.

The jovial barman shrugged. His employer would never forget Elsa. She had stolen his heart, his suitcase and a hill of beans he'd been saving up for his retirement. But it didn't matter. Somehow he knew that his boss knew that, whatever happened between them, they'd always have Paris. Unfortunately and unbeknownst to all of them, Paris was at that moment planning to move to Rome, once he'd defeated the Spartans at Thermapoli and bought new underwear. But this was still in the future and no one in the past or the present can predict the future. Only people in the future can do that. And then it isn't so much a prediction as a sequence of experiences. If only the future could talk ...

"The world will always welcome lovers," sang the black piano player, lamentably, "as time goes by."

"Time gentlemen, please," called the barman.

The entire room called back, "eleven oh-six," the Frenchmen singing it to the tune of Beethoven's fifth, and the soldiers to a melody by Kurt Weil.

But none of this mattered. Only the quest ... The quest was all that mattered. Or maybe it wasn't. Nobody knew.

Seraphina scanned the room in search of something, anything, that looked like it might be part of the plot.

 

[timelord4]

The boy's hand clasped firmly in hers, she sauntered over to the piano and leaned forward to the muso. 'Play it again Sam,' she murmurred into his ear.

'Don't know that one ma'am.'

'What?'

'Don't know that one neither.'

'How about, "Does your chewing gum lose it's flavour on the bedpost overnight?'"'

'Wouldn't know. I can do "Ebony and Ivory"''

Seraphina looked at him in disgust and crossed to the bar. 'You go and play with the dollys in the corner,' she said to the boy. 'I've got to get some money for our trip to California.'

The boy's eyes flashed brightly. The prospect of playing with the dollys seemed an excellent idea. Seraphina took a stool at the bar and picked up a promotional cigarette from a tray being passed around. The slit of her dress rode higher as she swivelled in her chair exposing slender long legs.

A lighter flared beside her and she leaned forward, inhaling as the cigarette blazed to life. Leaning back she watched a trail of smoke trickle from the fag end and mumbled a thanks. The lighter disappeared and her gaze looked up to meet a set of startling green eyes the colour of the drink hidden beneath the wooden umbrella propped in the glass on the bar. (whew!)

The man smiled lazily at her. 'I heard Paris is moving to Rome.'

Seraphina shrugged. 'He can move to Berlin, for all I care.'

Nodding his head slowly he took a fag himself. 'You look like Elsa.'

'Wouldn't know. Never met her.'

He looked her up and down. 'You don't look like the sort that'll do tricks for coin, so you must have another angle.'

She shrugged. 'I do what I must.'

'Really?' He looked like reassessing his evaluation. 'Na...You'd probably leave chewing gum in my hair.
'Look, I got a proposition for you. I'm the owner of this flea hole and I miss my Elsa. I'm looking for someone who can convince her to come home. You reckon you can do that?'

Tossing her hair back off her shoulders, Seraphina nodded, once. 'Where is she?'

The boss studied her a moment before answering. 'California...'

 

[Interference]

The boy sat in the midst of the detritus of decimated dolls as Seraphina approached him.

"What happened here?" she asked.

"They ignored my orders," the boy said, "so I wasted them."

She surveyed the debris of the detritus of decimated dolls and did something beginning with D - if you can come up with it, just slot it in there, I'm stuck. She realised immediately what had happened. In the future time of the boy's origin, everything must be mechanised, everything robotic. She despaired. (Oh! Oh! A D word that fits!)

"Come on, kid," she said, taking the boy's hand. "We've got a contract."

"But, Mom," the boy protested, reminding the reader of his relationship to the girl. She cut him short. Actually, he was already short. She cut him shorter.

"Don't call me that," she said. "I don't even know you. I've never even had relations with a man I wasn't related to."

"You don't get it, do you?" the boy enquired. "I was generated from DNA cells found in an amber stone thousands of years after you died. I'm a child, born of a clone of your dead body with super intelligence and a penchant for blowing things up."

"You know, kid," she said, "it sounds like we really belong in California."

The club owner joined them and flicked his cigarette carelessly across the room.

"I brought you your down payment," he said.

She took the envelope from him and leafed through the green notes inside, counting them with absolutely no notion whatever what each might be worth.

"Is this a lot?" she asked.

The owner laughed.

"Fire!" someone screamed.

"It's worth plenty," the man with startling green eyes replied.

Seraphina put the envelope in her rucksack and zipped it closed - the rucksack, not the envelope. Envelopes don't have zips.

A man ran past them, his hair alight, screaming in agony. The man, not the hair. Hair doesn't scream.

"Well," said Seraphina, "I guess we'd better be going."

"You taking that with you?" the man asked pointing past her to the floor. She turned to see what he was indicating and saw the boy who was looking between them, a puzzled expression on his face.

"He's looking at you, kid," she said and the boy nodded his understanding. To the man she said, "Yeah, he's my mascot."

"I'll call him Scout," the man said as he turned away.

"Hey. Mister," Seraphina called out to him. "What does Elsa look like?"

The man turned back to her.

"Just look in a mirror," he said and walked away as the fire brigade arrived whistling. The man was whistling, not the fire brigade. Fire brigades don't ... well, actually ....

 

[timelord4]

'What happened here?' the Fire chief asked stomping his way into the club. He raised his brow at Seraphina.

The club owner lowered them for her. (The Chief's brows for the dame). Scout rolled across the floor laughing.

'What's he laughing at?' The Fire Chief didn't look happy.

'I'm laughing at the hair that just run out the door on fire.' The boy thought the Fire Chief an idiot.

'The one on top of the bloke that was screaming?'

'Yeah.' Yep, an idiot.

'Don't worry about that, we smothered it.'

Scout stopped laughing. 'You what?'

'Wrapped it up in a fire blanket and dumped it in a big drum of water.'

Backing off a little, Scout mumbled. 'The man or the hair?' Was there such a thing as a lunatic idiot?

'Same thing I reckon.'

'Mom!'

'I told you not to call me that.' Seraphina sniffed. The Fire Chief was definitely a *chunk*. She did that girly thing with her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. Smiling at the *thunk* she added, 'He thinks I look like his mother, but I actually look like his mother's daughter.'

'Mom!'

'I'm warning you...' There was something about his eyes that made her pause. 'What?' She reddened when she realised the *munk* was listening to their conversation.

'Are you sure we're not running away from the plot. I mean do we have to go to California?'

'Hey, you're going to California?' the *funk* chirped. 'My station's down by Dock 34 Helion 1. The pad's right across from us. Wanna lift?'

For the first time that night, Seraphina smiled. 'I'd love it!'

'What about me, then?'

She grabbed Scout by the hand and roughly pulled him with her as the Chief headed for the door.

'You only want to go with him!'

'This kind man wants to give us a lift. And stop pouting...besides, he's such a *hunk*.

They filed out the club door and headed towards the bright, shiny red fire engine.

 

[Interference]

It had been four hours since she thanked the fire chief and said her goodbyes, a process which, in itself, had taken far too much time, according to the young boy's ideas of necessary gratitude.

The chopper touched down in California Central Duplex Air Transport Helipad Park at 0600 hours on a cold and typically damp California morning. Forecasters promised fifteen minutes of sunshine today. With her luck, Seraphina thought, she'd be indoors when it happened.

She disembarked with the boy, her mouth dry and sticky from the flight. Choppers always left a bad taste in her mouth.

She looked in her handbag. A blob of pre-chewed chewing gum and a few inches of dental floss sat among the lipsticks and compacts of her weapons case. The chewing gum would be stale but it might take the layer of fur off her teeth. The floss would dislodge debris of the last two days' eating. Gently, as though from afar a voice came into her head with words and encouragement.

"Seraphina," the voice said. She thought she recognised it.

"Grandfather?" she asked.

"Seraphina," the voice repeated, a little closer, now, clearer, less echoey.

"Is it you, grandfather?"

"It's me," the voice said. "But wasn't I your great grandfather?"

"I don't know, I've lost track," she said. "But I saw you die," she protested.

The boy looked at her, a bemused expression on his face.

"No, Seraphina," her grandfather contradicted. "You saw me dissipate into the universe to become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

"More powerful than God?" she asked.

"Well, maybe not quite that powerful."

"More powerful than Santa Claus?"

"All right, not quite as powerful as you can possibly imagine, all right?" he responded testily.

"This is incredible," the girl opined. "You're still alive."

"Better than alive," he responded, "I'm CGIed. My voice can be played by any reasonable impressionist for as long as the franchise continues. But we haven't time for that. You need to find Paris."

"You mean Elsa, don't you?"

"No. Paris."

"But Paris went to Rome," she protested.

"Well, where are we?" he asked.

"California," she told him.

"What are we doing in California?" he asked.

"Looking for Elsa," she said.

"Who the f-" he calmed down. "Who's Elsa?"

"I'll tell you that when I find her," she said. "But first I have to find a kiosk that's open at six a.m. where I can buy a toothbrush and toothpaste."

"There's no time for that, Seraphina."

"It'll only take a minute," she said.

"Just use what's in your handbag," he told her.

"What, a piece of chewed chewing gum?"

"No, Seraphina," the strange, disembodied voice in her head intoned sepulchrally, "Use the floss."

Yes, folks, the entire encounter was contrived to let me make that one, rather feeble, joke.

 

[timelord4]

As Seraphina rummaged through her handbag, something struck the back of her head.

'Try that!' a voice yelled.

She reached around and pulled an old banana skin off her hair. Enraged, she stuck her finger up at the quickly disappearing car. Prix, she muttered to herself. Standing outside the Californian Helipad Centre did have its moments.

Down the sidewalk further, she noticed a black stretch limo pull to the curb. 'Who's that?' she asked voice grandfather. It seemed the voice had disappeared in pursuit of the banana skin car.

Photographers and news reporters, the usual paparazzi, surged forward as the limo door opened. Seraphina recognised the woman immediately. It could have been her sister. Her (older) sister, she thought tartly.

Grabbing the boy by the hand, she hurried down to the crowded area.

A huge man climbed out after the woman. He flashed a colgate smile at the media. Then a Donny and Marie one as well.

'Who is that?' she asked of a reporter as he tried to push past her.

He looked around. 'That's the Governor of California ma'am.'

'I don't mean him. I mean her!'

Before the reporter could answer, the governor looked up, straight into her eyes. A broad smile crossed his face and he took the woman's arm, leading her across to where Seraphina and the boy stood.

'You muz be Elsa's olter sister,' he said.

The boy choked.

Looking down towards the boy the governor added, 'Hello Danny, I haven't zeen you zince "Twins".'

'My name's Scout mister. You're the one we've been looking for.' The boy kicked him in the shin.

The governor winced. 'Charming little sh.. you haf dere.' His eyes narrowed and his huge jaw jutted out in anger.

Seraphina grabbed the boy by the arm and wrenched him back to her side. 'Stop that!' She smiled weakly at the governor and his companion. 'Sorry about that. He's an orphan...'

'Mom!'

'I told you not to call me that, you little toe-rag!'

'Grandmother!'

Elsa laughed at that.

Flushing slightly, Seraphina rounded on her. 'There's a club owner that'd be keen to see you back in his kennels.'

'Not likely bitch.'

Seraphina smirked. This one wasn't going to be much help. She turned her attention back to the man. 'Governor, we need help to terminate these aliens that you apparently know something about.'

The paparazzi surged forwards, a felt covered microphone knocking the governor on the head.

'Pretty woman. I can't help you. You neet a special weaponz. Da sing is in Lundun. You 'ave to goes to Kings Crosses stationz. When yous dere, you must fined platform 9 and a half. Just ask all de yellow brick valls, "Letz Rock and Roil Paypy!'

 

[Interference]

Surely some kind of code, Seraphina thought. Either that or my Universal Translator is seriously on the fritz!

Which was one of those really unlikely coincidences that sometimes happen, usually in fiction, but also in real life, sometimes, because "On the Fritz" just happened to be a coded phrase that had been placed deep in the governor's subconscious that would set in motion a sequence of events which would ultimately lead to the total and absolute destruction of all mankind, leaving only womankind and Humvy mechanics alive to service his needs and whims, and a mysterious alien being who was currently residing somewhere in Roswell, New Mexico, having once been known as Sylvester Stallone until his career took a terminal nose dive.

Just as well, then, that she didn't say the phrase out loud.

Brother, that could have been bad.

Seeeeeriously bad.

Bad for all of us.

I can't exaggerate how bad.

Close thing, then, eh?

"So, what do you know about these alien robots, Governor?" Seraphina asked.

A TV news reporter snuck his microphone in for an audio close-up.

"One of them," the governor began, lighting a huge cigar that she felt she recognised, "is compledely unztoppible. It can becom anything it tudges. It can neffer be killet. Ze ozzer ees called Jeremy, bott ees proppibly eefen wourze zan my aggzent"

"I'm sorry, I'm not getting any of this," Seraphina protested.

"Vhy not? Ees yore oonifersal dranzlaydor on ze fridz?"

Fortunately, the code phrase wouldn't work if the governor uttered it himself.

"What?" she asked for clarification.

"Say it again, darling," Elsa urged.

"Yore ooniverzal dranzlaydor. Eez eet on ze vritz?"

"Is it me or is his accent becoming increasingly impenetrable?" Scout asked.

"I'm still not getting it," said Seraphina with a shrug.

"He wants to know," the reporter said, "if your Universal Translator is on the fritz."

A light deep behind the governor's eyes glowed a brief but sinister red.

 

[timelord4]

Scout leaned against Elsa's suit skirt rolling with laughter.

'What are you laughing about brat?' Elsa wasn't impressed.

Between breathes, Scout pointed at the governor. 'The fritz.' Tears poured down his eyes and he scooped up a handfull of skirt and blew his nose.

'Eeek! Get away from me, you little skunk.'

Seraphina smiled down at Scout and softly chastised him. 'You shouldn't do that little man. Use the other side, it's cleaner.'

Having composed himself better, Scout settled down and scrubbed the remaining tears from his cheeks. 'You know, you look like mother and daughter.'

The women rounded on each other. Seraphina spoke first. 'Well I know which one I am.'

'And I know who I am, bitch.'

'Dog!'

'Ladies! Stop!' Scout pressed himself between them. 'Mom, we're supposed to be saving the world. We've got to get to London and find the secret weapon.'

Seraphina smiled demurely and nodded at Elsa. 'He's talking to you.'

Before Elsa could make a retort, the governor came back. (He'd been away with the paparazzi telling lies). 'Ah! They belef evfry sing I tellz zeem.' He turned his eye to Scout. (The governor had heard Scout mention 'the fritz'. That was the password to stop the unthinkable from happening but the residue still lingered. A close one, whew).

The boy stepped back, startled.

'Now what's the matter?' Seraphina reached for his arm and pulled him close.

'Nothing mom...it's just that for one moment...his eye was all red.' Scout looked scared.

Turning to look at Seraphina, the governor beamed his pearlies. 'I knowz!' He was as excited as a clown at a party. 'Wees going to Stutgardt und ve can givez youz a lift to Lundun on da vay!

'That would be marvelous governor. Of course you'll leave your maid behind.' Tilting her chin towards Elsa, Seraphina offered her a smirk.

'Of course not!' The governor replied. 'Somebody 'as to carry de bagz.'

Seraphina nearly fell over laughing. She decided to retreat while she was ahead and took Scout's hand, following the governor.

'Don't vorget. Kings Gross Stationz. Platvorm 9 and a half. And the zecret veapon is vith Fluffy,' the governor said over his shoulder.

 

[Interference]

Apart from the hi-jack attempt, the loss of two engines, the crash on a deserted island where all they had to live on was a particularly uninteresting plotline and a lot of even less interesting flashbacks, it was an uneventful flight. Seraphina and the boy called Scout disembarked and thanked the governor for the lift, then hailed a taxi.

"Hail, taxi," Seraphina said, falling to her knees for a quick worship.

"Get up, you fool," said Scout. "You're embarrassing me."

"I'll say she is," said Elsa, who was determined to remain in the story until someone finally got around to saying "but that means you're me!" - and that somebody had better be Seraphina and she'd better do it quick.

"I'm sorry," said Seraphina, "we don't have so many taxi's in my era so any time you see one you have to show proper respect or they won't pick you up."

"Gosh," said Elsa, "that's exactly how it was when I was your age."

"Yeah, right," said Seraphina, missing her cue. "Taxi," she called.

"You called," said the taxi.

"Take us to King's Cross Station and be quick about it," said Seraphina as they all piled into the back seat.

Apart from the attempted mugging, the attack by zombie cannibals, the constant hinderances imposed by the newly formed robot government (with its new Prime Minister, The Brown Gorgon Mk III) and the attendant puppet civil servants, it was an uneventful journey to King's Cross and the three days it took seemed to pass quite quickly.

"That'll be a million pounds, please," said the taxi who, although the entire world was now using Euros as a currency, had a central accountancy chip that was made in Bradford and refused to acknowledge any other currency than sterling.

"Will this be enough?" Seraphina asked taking the envelope she had been given by the club owner from her safe deposit box (which she kept in her shoe) and counting out some notes.

The taxi rummaged through its circuits for the change.

"I only have coins, is that all right?"

Four hours later, they were ready to go into the depths of the underground station that had once been King's Cross. How odd it now looked in its submerged position five hundred feet below street level and approximately two inches above sea level. But none of the trio thought it in the least peculiar, so I suppose I should keep my thoughts to myself.

"It seems bigger than it was when I was a child," said Seraphina.

"Yes, and bigger than when I was a child," said Elsa and she mentioned the year.

"But that was the year that -" Seraphina began.

"I am a child," said Scout, "and it looks pretty big to me, too."

Seraphina forgot what she was going to say.

"We have to find Fluffy," she said instead.

"And the yellow bricks," added Scout.

"And platform nine point five," Elsa concluded.

"My feet are getting wet," said Scout.

Seraphina looked at the floor. It appeared as though the water table were rising. But how could this be, unless ... unless ...

A voice behind them said, "Don't turn around."

They all turned around.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," said a particularly aggressive-looking alien robot.

They all stretched their arms out towards the metal creature and wiggled their fingers. While the robot counted the digits, because that's how robots entertain themselves - by counting things - Scout dropped below its line of sight and unbuckled the automaton's foot apparel, linking them magnetically again but to their opposite reservoirs. A robot equivalent of tying its shoelaces together.

"Now!" shouted the boy, and they all ran to the nearest platform gateway. The robot attempted to follow but fell over and exploded.

"I love it when things explode," said the boy.

The robot died but not before it sent out a distress message and a record of its last few minutes. The robot central command issued a command and a hundred and fifty robots centred themselves on King's Cross Station.

"Do these walls look yellow to you?" asked Elsa, explaining how she was colour blind.

"I don't know," said Seraphina, "I'm colour blind, too."

And she still didn't get it!

 

[timelord4]

'Gods Sake!' Scout yelled at the blind fools. 'I'm sick of you two. Can't you see that wall's blue.' He might as well try to describe the colour of the sky to a blind person.

'Anyway, I'm off.' He bolted towards the only yellow coloured wall on the platform.

The bemused women stared after him. It wasn't until he paused at the wall and peered past them that they turned. One hundred and fifty one bots marched forward in a solid bank of threatening nuts and bolts.

When the bots reached the centre of the platform they stopped.

Scout couldn't get over the stupidity of the women. They just stood there waiting. 'Hey, You better get down here. They don't look friendly.'

The wave of bots parted. A solitary figure stood in their midst and flickers of lightning coursed off her body. She padded down the platform, beautiful in her nakedness, dangerous in her intent.

The women thought so too. They hurried down to join Scout, the whites of their eyes showing wide as they glanced over their shoulders.

'I don't like that one,' Seraphina whispered nervously.

Elsa agreed. And that was the first time Scout had heard the women agree to anything.

'I should leave you to them...' he muttered nodding his head towards the bots.

'What we going to do Scout?' That was another first. What happened to, *brat*, *kid*, *skunk!* The boy looked up at Elsa and shook his head.

He turned to the yellow brick wall. Behind them they could hear the soft slap of feet descend the platform. She...it was getting closer.

'You heard what the governor said, speak the password.' Elsa shuffled closer to the wall. She wanted to be the first one through.

'Hold on, hold on.' He studied the wall. 'Now this is platform nine and a half. Yep. And this is the yellow brick wall...'

'Just hurry up you little sh*t!'

Scout had forgotten that one. How quickly the honorific title of his name was forgotten. He scowled at Seraphina.

'Okay. The password. Duh...what's the password again?'

''I'll be back!' It wasn't exactly a scream, but it was close to it.

'No!' cried Elsa. 'It was hasta la vista baby!'

'You're idiots!' Scout knew he had to get rid of this pair.

'Well what was it then, huh, Smarty pants?' They chorused.

The padded feet was very close now, and a rhythmnic hum could be heard as the figure picked up speed.

The women pressed themselves against the wall. 'Ohh...please Scout hurry. She frightens me.'

'Me too mom.' He scratched his head trying to think. What was it the governor had said?

And just as the figure was within striking range, he remembered. 'Got it!' he shouted. In a clear high pitched voice he declared. 'Letz Rock and Roil Paypy!'

The wall shimmered and fell inwards. Images of another platform stood on the other side. A peaceful and tranquill place full of school kids and a huge bear of a man with shaggy hair and beard.

They tumbled through the wall and onto the next platform just as the wall closed on the pursuing *terminator*

Everybody looked around. The trio lay on the platform deck looking over their shoulders. The wall behind them shivered as the sound of heavy pounding assaulted their ears.

Scout pulled Seraphina's shoe off and threw it at the wall. 'I told you mom, it's after your money and that's a stupid place to carry $1M in change anyway.'

An immense shadow fell over them. They turned and looked up to see what caused it.

 

[Interference]

"Don't move," the bearded man hissed. "They can't see very well. If you stand perfectly still and -"

"What the Hell is it?" squealed Seraphina.

"-and keep perfectly quiet, I was going to say," the man concluded.

The shadow creature squawked and spiralled around the three, snuffling noises coming from it as it sniffed and probed the air.

"It can smell our fear," Scout said.

"How can you know that?" asked Elsa.

"I sense it," the boy replied.

"Can't you help us?" Seraphina asked the man.

"I would, but we've been rooted to the spot like this for over an hour. Every time any one of us tries to reach our weapons, it zeroes in on us and drives us further away."

"It doesn't seem to want to hurt us," one of the schoolchildren said, a girl of about Scout's age with a slight squint and lank, dark hair, "just to keep us in one place."

"It's waiting for something," said Scout. "I can feel it."

"Well, stop feeling it, we haven't got time for that," said Seraphina. She looked at herself, addressing Elsa, "Adolescence must've just kicked in," she said.

"Is it waiting for something nice?" Elsa asked the boy, and Seraphina sneered at her. "No harm in hoping, is there?" she said, defensively.

"Who are you all?" Seraphina asked the man.

"I'm The Teacher," the man said, "and these are my students. We're all from Wickerman High School where the school motto is, 'Oh God. Oh Dear God, No'. My name's Thoroughgood Flange." Seraphina and Elsa stifled their laughter. Scout didn't. The man smiled. He was used to these reactions by now. "But the kids call me Fluffy," he said.

The laughter could no longer be restrained ...

___________________________

I'm off on my holls for a week, so I probably won't get a chance to contribute much more until I get back. Hope Timelord and everyone who reads these pages has a great week and a bunch of other good weeks to follow it up and anyone who doesn't read these pages - well, what does it matter what I wish for them, they'll never know it was me. See you back here, guys.

BB

Steve

 

[timelord4]

Have a terrific holiday steve. I've got an article to get out for a mag and I'm behind, so I'll take the effort now. That was fun

See you when you get back and keep safe

TL