Sid and Arthur's Space Operetta

Gliding through the lower atmosphere the small craft dived down and started to weave among the giant buildings of the Valusian city of Shishisherak. Tall they were and didn’t so much scrape the sky as stab into it like giant stabby fingers. Glittering shimmers bounced from the multitude of lights that lit the tops of the buildings up and scattered on the highly polished bodywork of the ship. Reducing speed the craft circled the Shishisherakan National Art Gallery and gradually descended to the lowest of the landing platforms. The door let out a hiss of pneumatic air, popped away from the hatch then, top first, descended to the platform creating a ramp to alight from.

Walking from the platform and into the building they entered through the self opening double glass doors, a dwarf and a king of the Britons. Down the steps they wandered into the lower gallery. At the back of the room was a picture hanging on the wall held up by self sealing stem bolts.

“What a load of clap trap, trying to write something that isn’t you!!!” said Sid the dwarf from The Crying Pennant to the Author. “All that prose and nobody knows.”

“Knows, knows what?” asked I.

“Knows you don’t like prose.”

“Well, you see, some people like prose more than conversation. If one or more of them is a judge of the smackdown then I’m stuffed.”

“Oh yes, this is supposed to be a Science Fiction, competition type of thing. The first story is peanut punk or something,” interjected Arthur.

“No it’s not it’s Space Opera,” re interjected Sid.

“We don’t have to sing do we?” inquired Arthur.

“I don’t know,” said I, “have you read the definition of it in the Forbidden Planet SF Sub Genres definitions thing?”

“Not yet,” shrugged Arthur.

“Look, this picture is an integral part of the story,” said I.

“What you mean the picture hanging on the wall of the two droids fishing?” asked Sid.

“Not the actual picture but what is in the picture,” proffered I.

“So the thing that is happening in the picture is supposed to be happening to us?” wondered Arthur.

“Yes. I think.”

“How unrealistic.”

“Well it is a science fiction smackdown after all.”

“Smackdown, it sounds like a wrestling match,” thought Sid.

“That’s where the term comes from,” explained the Author.

“What’s wrestling got to do with science fiction?”

“Have you not seen the Rock in that episode of Voyager?”

“I used to have the card from the Star Trek Card Game, it was a rare.”

“He sounds so tough doesn’t he, The Rock. His real name is Dwayne Johnson. That is a wimpy sounding name,” opined Arthur.

“I bet you wouldn’t say that to his face,” said Sid.

“I might not.”

“Are we going to get this picture out of here and try to make it happen?”

“What, dress up as droids and go fishing?”

“No, we could go to the cloning factory on Reema V and use the holographic suite to set the shot up.”

“You can be the fat one.”

“They’re both the same size!”

“So.”

“Hang on, if we steal this picture of the two droids fishing then won’t we get into trouble?”

“Yeas.” Arthur thought for a bit then said, “It can link to the next picture, the one with the three soldier types in front of the tall buildings, they look like they could be guarding the gallery.”

“Can’t we just take a photo of the picture. It isn’t stealing then.”

“Well it is, unless we get permission to take the picture. Copyright infringement or something.”

“But if we get permission to get a photo then how do we get into trouble to get to the next picture?”

“I don’t know. Try asking the Author.”

“He’s been a bit quiet for the last few sentences, I thought he had fallen asleep.” Sid looked into the air, “Oi Author, are you still awake? How do we get into trouble?”

Just then, as so often in happens in stories with Sid and Arthur, a siren started to wail and trilithium doors started to come down from the ceiling.

“Quick,” said Arthur, “let’s make it to the next picture.”