A Toaster on Mars

by Darrell Pitt

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Nicki said. ‘Nothing can escape a black hole. Not even light!’

  ‘The engines were running a little hot.’

  ‘Just land this ship,’ Blake snapped. ‘Who knows what Badde’s got planned.’

  Goyle aimed for the force field protecting the service hangar from the vacuum of space. It shimmered as they entered and gravity took over. The Rancid Cat tipped, but Goyle brought it level, and they hit the deck in what would probably be best described as a well-conceived crash.

  ‘There!’ he said. ‘Can I fly? Or can I fly?’

  Nobody answered.

  Blake and Nicki disembarked via the Rancid Cat’s exit ramp located under the ship. The landing bay was empty except for the Star of Fire.

  ‘Why do you think Badde’s here?’ Nicki asked Blake.

  ‘It’s either engine trouble or he had to pick up something.’

  ‘Or it’s a trap.’

  Drawing their blasters, Blake and Nicki cautiously approached the other ship.

  ‘I don’t see any movement,’ Nicki said.

  Then, from underneath the vessel, they saw Badde, with an unconscious Lisa over his shoulder, appear from behind a landing strut.

  ‘There!’ Blake yelled.

  Badde disappeared through a nearby exit. Blake and Nicki followed and soon found themselves in an egg-shaped room with thousands of flashing coloured lights set into the walls. At the other end stood Badde, Lisa still over his shoulder.

  ‘So this is what you look like in the flesh, Carter,’ Badde sneered. ‘I imagined you to be taller, stronger and not so ugly.’

  ‘Put her down,’ Blake said.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘It’s you who’s not going anywhere,’ Badde said.

  He stepped out the door, taking Lisa with him. Blake and Nicki went to follow—until the room exploded with light.

  34

  Blake found himself standing in a street adjacent to a graveyard. Most of the gravestones had fallen over. Weeds sprouted everywhere and a rusted fence disappeared behind some monuments. Nestled among the plots was a solitary palm tree, so weighed down with dead fronds it looked ready to topple over.

  But the strangest thing, thought Blake, was how everything was in shades of grey or black: the graveyard, the trees, the sky. Only he and Nicki had colour. Beyond the slice of graveyard was charcoal darkness. Dramatic music—something from an old horror film—was emanating from the gloom.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Blake asked.

  ‘I can make a guess,’ Nicki said, looking around. ‘I think we stepped into an old movie chamber.’

  ‘What’s a movie chamber?’

  ‘They haven’t been used for years. It’s a holographic room that shows a movie, but viewers can actually be part of it.’

  Blake dimly remembered them. ‘Weren’t those things faulty?’ he asked. ‘Some people even got killed in them.’

  ‘The safety triggers were easily disengaged. That’s probably why Badde led us in here. One wrong move and we’re toast.’

  ‘So this is just a simulation,’ Blake said, raising his blaster. ‘I can blow a hole in the wall to free us.’

  Nicki gently nudged the weapon down. ‘Whatever you do, don’t shoot,’ she said. ‘The laws of space are completely warped in here. You might think you’re aiming at a wall, but you’re actually aiming at your own head. You might kill yourself or, even worse, me!’

  Blake frowned. ‘So why is everything grey?’ he asked.

  ‘This must be a really old film. Wait a minute,’ Nicki said, pointing. ‘Look.’

  Words in a plain font appeared in mid-air before the cemetery.

  ‘Plan 9 from Outer Space,’ Blake read.

  ‘Wow,’ Nicki said, admiration in her voice. ‘This was voted the worst movie ever made.’

  ‘Even worse than Attack of the Killer Slugs?’

  Zeeb says:

  One would think that a movie enticingly called Attack of the Killer Slugs would at least feature killer slugs, but sadly this was not the case. In perhaps the worst case of deception ever enacted by a producer, Caleus Rickman raised more than 100 million credits to make the movie, then absconded, with only ten per cent of the film complete.

  With most of the film still left to be shot, the responsibility fell to his second-in-charge, a man by the name of Bernard Peekle. Sadly, Bernard Peekle had never made a film, let alone one with zero budget. Fortunately, however, he came from a large family, and was able to convince his non-acting siblings, parents and cousins to be the cast.

  The Peekle clan had grown up as turnip farmers, and it’s fair to say that none of them had missed their vocation. With no budget and no slugs, Peekle dipped his six very cute Tylarian kittens in white paint, taped cardboard horns to their heads, and tried to pass them off as the rampaging slugs determined to destroy all in their wake.

  Despite his best efforts, the result was not successful. An early screening of the movie ended with an angry mob storming the cinema and burning it to the ground.

  ‘Plan 9 from Outer Space is much worse,’ Nicki said.

  ‘So why do you look so happy?’

  Nicki shrugged. ‘I love bad movies,’ she said. ‘Some movies are so bad, they’re good.’

  ‘If you say so. How do we get out of here?’

  ‘We need to push through the film,’ Nicki said. ‘With any luck, I can create a resonance charge through my hands to break through to the end credits.’

  She grabbed hold of the nearby palm. Jamming her fingers into the bark, she reefed the trunk apart. They pushed through into a 20th-century suburban street, leaving the opening credits and dramatic music behind.

  Here the sky was brighter, but everything was still grey. Across the street, an old man had left his home.

  A voice rang out from above.

  ‘The sky to which she had once looked was now only a covering for her dead body…’

  ‘Wow,’ Nicki hissed, her face aglow. ‘This is fantastic.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘That’s Bela Lugosi.’

  ‘Bela what?’

  ‘Bela Lugosi! He was the original Dracula.’

  Blake stared at him. ‘He does look like a vampire,’ Blake said. ‘Very pasty faced.’

  ‘That’s only partly because the film was shot in black and white,’ Nicki said. ‘Lugosi ended up as a morphine addict, and died before they’d finished filming. His later scenes were filmed using a double.’

  The old man noticed them and made a rude gesture.

  ‘Sorry!’ Nicki yelled out.

  ‘I’ve got two scenes in this lousy picture!’ Lugosi yelled. ‘And you decide to gatecrash one of them!’ Muttering under his breath, he marched down the street.

  ‘Let’s get moving,’ Blake said. ‘He seems like a grouch.’

  The voiceover continued:

  ‘The old man left that home, never to return again…’

  Blake and Nicki stepped into the next scene to find themselves on a dark, busy street. Cars sped past, but it was impossible to make out who was driving. A whooshing sound came from above.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Blake said, staring up.

  Nicki laughed. ‘It’s a flying saucer,’ she said. ‘That’s what people thought spaceships looked like in the 20th century.’

  ‘Really? It looks like a saucepan lid.’

  ‘It probably is a saucepan lid.’

  It suddenly became very light. The scene had cut to a location outside a rundown cocktail bar. A man in a suit had just left carrying a bottle.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Blake asked.

  ‘An extra playing an old drunk. He’s about to give up drinking because he sees one of the flying saucers.’

  ‘I’d give up drinking after watching this film.’

  The man peered up as the voiceover went on.

  ‘There comes a time in each man’s life when he can’t even believ
e his own eyes.’

  ‘It’s terrible dialogue,’ Blake said.

  Nicki giggled. ‘It’s truly awful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Can we go?’

  ‘You don’t know art when you see it.’

  Grabbing the wall of a nearby house, Nicki stretched a hole for them to push through.

  The next scene took place back in the cemetery and it was dark again. Blake pointed at a faint light ahead.

  ‘What is that?’ he asked. ‘Please tell me it’s the end credits.’

  ‘No,’ Nicki said, gripping his arm with excitement. ‘It’s a really seminal scene! Inspector Daniel Clay has been transformed into a zombie. This is where he makes his terrifying rise from the grave.’

  ‘Yeah. Terrifying,’ Blake muttered. ‘I’ve rarely been so scared.’

  Whoever was playing Clay couldn’t even climb out of the hole. Dramatic music beat through the cemetery.

  ‘It’s probably the best scene in the movie,’ Nicki said.

  ‘Other than the end credits?’

  The actor playing Clay finally escaped his grave, giving Blake a better look at him.

  ‘Wow,’ he said.

  ‘He’s played by Tor Johnson,’ Nicki said. ‘A wrestler.’

  Blake took a step back. The guy was enormous. Instant death would result if he sat on you.

  ‘No kidding.’

  The man’s eyes focused on them.

  ‘We’re just passing through,’ Blake said, nervously. ‘Don’t mind us.’

  The actor/detective/zombie started towards Blake and Nicki with surprising speed. Before Blake could move, the man had lunged at him, throwing a punch. Blake ducked, but not quickly enough, and he was knocked to the ground.

  As he lay stunned, Blake watched Nicki slam Clay in the face. The huge man slumped in a heap, out cold.

  Then the entire room shuddered. Daniel Clay flickered out of existence as a door appeared, and Rasmussen Goyle stuck his head through.

  ‘Are ye going to take all day?’ he asked. ‘Badde’s got a head start!’

  Blake and Nicki scrambled after him.

  35

  ‘I’d almost given up on ye!’ Goyle bellowed as they took their seats at the bridge.

  ‘We got sidetracked,’ Blake snapped. ‘Where’s Badde?’

  ‘He took a pot shot at our starboard engine about ten minutes back. He wrecked one of the fusion generators.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘I’m not sure we’ll be able to catch him.’

  The Rancid Cat soon veered sideways out of the landing bay. After righting the ship, Goyle punched a few buttons on the console. A tube broke loose, spurting green liquid all over the floor.

  ‘There’s me soup,’ Goyle muttered.

  He looked at a display, wiped some fluid from it and then shook his head.

  ‘A generator’s dead,’ he announced. ‘It’ll take us six months to reach Mars.’

  ‘There must be something you can do!’ Blake said.

  ‘There is a possibility,’ Goyle said, shoving aside a bag of trash tied to the console with string. ‘But I’d hoped never to use it.’

  ‘Use what?’ Nicki asked, giving Blake a worried glance.

  ‘It’s some ancient tech I found in a temple under a live volcano on Selarius Nine. It’s half-science, half-magic and half-something else.’

  ‘Uh,’ Blake said. ‘That’s three halves.’

  ‘That’s how strange it is.’

  ‘Strange!’ the parrot shrieked.

  ‘It’s known as the Dream Glider.’ Goyle flipped up a panel to reveal a transparent red dome. ‘If the legend’s true, when I push this button, there will be a direct connection to my brain, which will read where I want to go and transport us there instantly. Otherwise…’

  ‘Otherwise…?’ Blake said.

  ‘You’re better off not knowing.’

  ‘I want to know.’

  ‘All right. You’ve forced it out of me. There’s a small chance it could compress this ship to something the size of a can of sardines.’

  ‘Sardines!’ the parrot shrieked, as its head spun 360 degrees. Winking at Blake, it ejected more pellets from its rear end. ‘Sardines!’

  Blake swallowed. ‘I wanted to lose some weight,’ he said, ‘but that’s not what I had in mind.’

  ‘We’ve got to do it,’ Nicki said. ‘Otherwise we’ll never catch Badde.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Blake said. ‘Do it.’

  Goyle sighed as his finger hovered over the button. ‘I just hope the silicon leads are connected,’ he said. ‘If not, we’ll blow ourselves to kingdom come.’

  Before Blake could suggest checking, Goyle pushed the button. At first, the ship did nothing. Then it gave a shudder, made a hiccupping sound and vibrated—alarmingly.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Blake asked.

  ‘I think it’s—’

  Vrooooooom!

  Blake was airborne. He crashed into the rear bulkhead with Nicki, Goyle and the parrot. The main console exploded, showering them all with debris. A half-cooked cabbage slammed Blake in the face.

  ‘There goes me breakfast!’ Goyle rasped.

  Blake struggled against the g-force. He fought to push himself off the wall, but the ship was accelerating too fast for him to make any headway. One of the seats broke off and speared towards Goyle. Nicki caught it.

  ‘Thanks, missy,’ the captain grunted.

  ‘It’s Agent Steel!’

  The whine of the engines lessened and Blake felt the g-force subside as they all slid to the floor in an untidy heap. The parrot ejected more plastic pellets onto Blake’s head.

  ‘That bird doesn’t like me,’ he grumbled, climbing to his feet.

  ‘His name’s Columbus,’ Goyle said. ‘Named after an ancestor.’

  They stumbled over debris to the front window.

  Goyle pointed excitedly. ‘Here we be!’ he cried. ‘Mars!’

  The red planet loomed below. Two centuries ago it had been a cold, red ball in space, but now it was a mottled green and crimson sphere with water covering half its surface.

  ‘Can you see Badde’s ship?’ Blake asked.

  ‘It be on the sensors! Straight ahead!’

  The Star of Fire appeared. It was very close to the pale blue atmosphere.

  ‘He’s preparing to jump to sub-light speed,’ Goyle said.

  ‘Can we stop him?’

  ‘I can fire on his engines.’ Goyle hit a button and a joystick appeared from the console. ‘I wasn’t expecting a fight, so I’ll have to compromise.’

  He fired on the Star of Fire.

  They watched the projectile arrow through space.

  ‘Captain Goyle,’ Blake said. ‘Is that a cabbage?’

  ‘Necessity is the mother of invention,’ Goyle said. ‘Or something.’

  It slammed into the rear of the other ship and they saw a brief flash. Goyle let out a triumphant cry.

  ‘A direct hit! That’s taken out their sub-light engine!’ he yelled. ‘They’ll not be going anywhere fast.’

  The ship veered towards the planet.

  ‘He’s landing to make repairs,’ Nicki said. ‘Maybe we can—’

  Everything went dark. The console displays faded, the engines stopped and the lighting failed. It was like being in a coffin.

  Even the parrot died and fell off Captain Goyle’s shoulder.

  ‘Columbus!’

  Goyle scrambled to resuscitate the mechanical creature.

  ‘What the sprot’s going on?’ Blake demanded.

  ‘Dead!’ Goyle wailed. ‘Dead!’

  Blake grabbed him. ‘Forget the parrot!’ he yelled. ‘What’s wrong with the ship?’

  ‘There be nothing wrong with the ship!’ Goyle shook him off. ‘Some sort of pulse has wiped out all our power.’

  The Super-EMP!

  ‘Nicki!’ Blake turned to her. ‘Badde must have fired the—’

  But Nicki was frozen. She was like a statue, stuck in the ver
y instant of leaning forwards to speak.

  ‘Everything electrical is fried! Destroyed!’ Goyle sobbed. ‘Including Columbus!’

  The EMP had knocked out—maybe even destroyed—every circuit in the ship, and Nicki as well. Blake reached over and touched her hand. Earlier she had been warm to the touch. Now she was stone cold, the bright blue spark in her eyes gone.

  Blake peered through the windscreen. The Rancid Cat was still heading towards the planet. If they didn’t turn around, they would burn up in the atmosphere.

  ‘Captain! We’ve got to change direction!’

  ‘Dead! Dead!’ Goyle appeared traumatised by the death of the parrot. ‘Life be not worth living without—’

  Blake slapped him across the face. ‘Listen! We’re going to die if you don’t take control of this ship!’

  The words seemed to bring Goyle around. Wiping away his tears, he lurched back into the captain’s chair and started stabbing controls.

  ‘Can you restart the ship?’ Blake asked.

  ‘I can’t perform miracles,’ Goyle said. ‘The helm won’t respond, the engines are shot—’

  Mars now filled the window.

  ‘It’s getting very hot in here,’ Blake said.

  ‘We’re going to burn up.’

  ‘Surely there’s some way to restart the engines or adjust our descent?’

  Goyle stared into the distance. ‘Aye,’ he muttered to himself. ‘That’s it.’

  ‘What’s it?’

  ‘The manual override in the engine room can adjust the angle of the wings.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘I’ll be able to manoeuvre the ship.’

  ‘So we can land on the surface.’

  ‘It won’t be easy,’ Goyle said, climbing from his seat. ‘Those controls haven’t been moved in years—’

  Blake glanced back at Nicki. If this didn’t succeed, he’d never see her again. While Goyle dragged piles of rubbish away from a hatch, Blake reached out and touched her hand again.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘For everything.’

  Blake went with Goyle down the hatch to a room that seemed to double as the engine room and kitchen. The air was stifling.

  ‘We’ve got minutes before we burn up,’ Goyle said, pointing to a crankshaft in the middle of the floor. ‘You’ve got to pull back on the crank.’