Flour Power
Being an account of the further adventures of Mister Argon and Culta R&D
The docking-bay door opened instantly, to the accompaniment of the -thud- of a finely controlled electroimpeller. There had been concerns, at first, when the idea of mounting a sliding door on what amounted to a small mass-driver was first brought up - but then who could afford to wait for the old, slow standard doors in today's fast-paced world? The constant drive for the fastest, the most efficient, the best was what had put Culta R&D at the forefront of its professional sphere, and they weren't about to abandon that for the sake of tradition.
They'd be putting the new doors up for full production status as soon as they'd worked out the small problem of oversensitive manual controls: not really a major thing, just a small aberration, but all the same John Miller had been careful to hit the Open button smartly just in case he got his wrist broken like the unfortunate tech whose aberration it had been.
John's companion refrained from passing comment on the flourish with which the button had been hit; indeed, he generally refrained from passing comment on anything. Mister Argon, as the combined assumed name and callsign went, seemed to be saving up all of his allotted words for something big later in his life. Culta kept him on the books despite his poor value as a social asset, however, for the simple reason that Mister Argon was very good indeed at his job - a job which mostly involved him, his protoype Argon Vauxhall Nova, some sort of inconvenience and a large amount of flying plasma. And he stayed with Culta because they regularly encountered such inconveniences, and were willing to pay well in money and in cutting-edge prototypes...
"I'm sure I don't need to tell you," John began, "that all information pertaining to this assignment is classified to vast and all-encompassing extent."
Mister Argon looked away, his expression mildly pained.
"As I said, I'm sure I don't. But I have to anyway, and it's always prudent."
The corridor was mostly bare metal out in this part of the station; small discreet cameras turned to track the two men as they continued towards the station's inhabited area, and an equally discreet readout by the Internal Security division camera operator declared that neither of the two men had any sort of subtle device they'd neglected to mention to the relevant authorities.
"The AVN is fast. It is, indeed, the fastest general-purpose in-system vehicle in existence. Of course, the Pegasus scoutcraft that the Paranid produce is rather faster, but has all the cargo capacity of a Boron shimmerfish."
Mister Argon knew very little xenobiology, but wouldn't have laughed even if he had known that the shimmerfish native to parts of the Boron homeworld's ocean bore its young in a pouch of approximately a cubic metre's volume. John took this in his stride.
"Our problem now lies in long cross-sector journeys; in particular, the Singularity Engine Time Accelerator. When a freighter pilot can divide the perceived time of their journey down by a whole order of magnitude, our speed advantage is similarly cut. Which, of course, makes the time decrease seem less."
John tentatively poked another Open button, winced as the door jumped open, and led the way along a corridor now carpeted and fibre-walled. Fairly basic amenities, but an improvement over the stark bones of the station showing through as they had in the dock area.
"I'm not trying to imply," he continued with vast insincerity, "that your average spacer is too short-sighted to run through the basic mathematics of it."
Mister Argon smiled, slightly and lopsidedly.
"But there will be that gut feeling that there's not enough of an improvement to justify an outlay of capital, the inconvenience of setting up the systems again... you know how they get their ships 'just the way they want them'"
A slightly larger smile this time; Mister Argon certainly did, as a number of modifications he had installed aboard his ship had saved his life on more than one occasion.
"So our major project for the last several mozuras has been... well, take a look."
John handed a small folder to the mercenary, who accepted it with a nod and began leafing through its contents. An eyebrow raised, followed just moments later by the other.
"It's not new technology, as you can see. But it's an application we would never have dreamed possible before. And now we're almost there, thanks to the brilliance of one man... and this is where the problem lies."
Another door opened with the familiar -thud-, onto a room dripping with plushness. The office of the CEO of Culta R&D was thickly carpeted, attractively furnished and bedecked with enough houseplants to use two crewmen's daily water ration, and the CEO herself was standing behind the wooden desk.
Tesson was all business. "Mister Argon, thank you for your prompt response. I'm sorry if my briefing lacks the customary courtesies, but this is an emergency and time is short.
"Nine stazuras ago, our top scientist on the SETA Replacement Project disappeared. At first we were not concerned, as he is a man of irregular habits and somewhat absent-minded in his approach to the world outside his work; it wouldn't be the first time he had merely become bored and gone for an extended EVA. However, shortly after his absence became an issue, we received this message from an anonymous source:"
She turned the screen of her workstation towards John and Mister Argon; a sneering face gazed back at them and spoke in a voice harshened by breathing air recycled by borderline-functional life-support systems - a pirate's voice.
"Professor Loaf Bunneiger is in our custody. Unless our demands are met, he will be killed; make no mistake about this."
Tesson paused the playback.
"I think you get the idea." she continued, acknowledging Mister Argon's brusque nod with a small nod of her own. "The group in question has demanded two hundred million credits for his return, in hard currency to ensure the funds cannot be withdrawn after the event, and has specified a time and place to make the exchange. We want you to make that rendezvous, but we want you to pay them in an equal value of plasma. Capture the ship the professor is being held on, destroy the rest, and return here; your fee will be twice the normal rate."
Mister Argon was already heading towards the door. "Transfer the location of this meeting when I'm outside."
**********
"Incredible, Mister Argon, you've done it again!"
The hired wing was greeted with a rousing cheer from the station's entire scientific population as he escorted Professor Bunneiger through the railgun-powered docking bay door into the station's main ring. Indeed, he deserved the adulation: the pirate's forces had been more significant than expected, but he had managed to destroy the corvettes which had ambushed his Argon Vauxhall Nova and capture the would-be blackmailer's flagship with hardly a scratch suffered by either his ship or his objective. The latter had proved resourceful, creating a small hand-held stun weapon from broken electronic goods accidentally left in his cell in the ship's brig and defending himself bravely against the brigands who had been assigned to deal with him should the deal go sour.
"Und I heff good news!" Loaf reported excitedly to Tesson, his Einsteinean shock of hair waving wildly. "While I vas in ceptivity, I hed time to perfekt ze calculations for ze new drive system! Ve must test it at once! Bring me a fehicle on which to build ze prototype!"
John Miller pondered briefly.
"I have a suggestion..."
**********
From the observation window, Mister Argon and Tesson watched the construction process.
"From what I hear, the new drive will prove some two hundred percent more effective than the standard SETA. I do hope, given your exemplary record, that you will continue to use your upgraded ship in our service."
She gazed at the busy working of the construction arms for a while.
"The Professor is an amazing thinker. I would never have thought such a thing was feasible, but I can't argue with his calculations. The nodal system is flawless."
She turned to leave, but paused as Mister Argon unexpectedly spoke for the second time that episode:
"What are they calling it?"
"Oh, the official name is Pastry-Induced Time Accelerator. But I hear they're calling it a PITA."
And in the docking bay, the construction arms continued to staple bread all over the Argon Vauxhall Nova's hull...
END
I promised myself I'd never do this... >_<
Moderators: TheElf, Moderators for English X Forum
I promised myself I'd never do this... >_<
Twisted, yes, but strangely fluffy.
"Split now give you CAKE!"
Proud pilot of the DLV Draconian (Split M6) and slaved scoutship Hatchling.
"Split now give you CAKE!"
Proud pilot of the DLV Draconian (Split M6) and slaved scoutship Hatchling.
