An Infinity of Stars - SF Smackdown

GAME OVER - SF Smackdown Round 4

Another little short story for the latest SF Smackdown in the Pub. Based on the four pictures in the slideshow on the right... 

Game Over

The alien craft dodged the plasma flash and altered course to head for the main space station, the last remaining Lazarus class fighter hot on its heels.

“Come on ye bastard, I’ve got ye noo.” His thumb hovered over the firing stud, waiting for the target on the screen in front of him to align. Engines pushed to the limit, he willed the craft to drift into his sights as he tried to avert the destruction of the spacestation that drew ever closer. “Ready, aim…”

Warning sirens blared, the computer display showing an incoming trail from behind him. “Ach shite…”

As the plasma struck his ship, Mac swore bitterly and small pieces of his fighter whistled off into the blackness. The last thing he saw before the screen went blank was the space station being blown apart…

GAME OVER.

Mac whacked the side of the ancient arcade game with one hand, and swore again as the screen flickered to the opening screen to offer him a new game.

“Ach, fook off ye jumped up calculator, ah don wanna play ye any more.” Stomping across the kitchen, he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle.

“Mac, you do know you can’t drink that, don’t you?” The girl seated at the kitchen table looked up from her notepad as the fridge door closed, the distinct “fsst” sound of an opening beer hissing across the room.

“Ach, shite.” The robot threw the beer into the recycle unit in disgust and sat heavily in a chair causing it to creak alarmingly. “Ah keep forgettin’ ah’m no human any more.”

He muttered to himself for a few more minutes, stood up, leant against the wall and then powered off with a final disgruntled “fook”.

“Is he still trying to drink beer?” asked Taylor as he walked into the kitchen eying up the spilt beer and vacant looking robot.

“Yes. You’d think after three years he’d’ve given up, but I guess once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.”

“True. There’s definitely a level of cosmic irony in the dead spirit of a Scot being the ghost in the machine though.” He ran his hand through his mop of ginger hair, grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and plonked one down in front of her, twisting off the top. “I take it he’s still trying to beat my high score on the game too?” She nodded and he grinned, taking a seat next to her at the table. “All quiet on the Western front?”

Maynala dipped her head, her long purple hair cascading over her forehead as she closed her single eye in concentration. After a few seconds she looked at him with a faint look of puzzlement. “I’m not sure, there’s something a little odd going on, the energy levels are spiking slightly, but I can’t tell where. Perhaps I’d better go and speak to Eric and see what he suggests.”

“How much longer has he got until he’s back with us again?”

“About three weeks I think, the last call out hit him hard and he always takes a while to regenerate. Nursey’s looking after him though, so he’ll be okay. I’ll go and see him now. Catch you in a bit.”

“Okay May, say hi to Eric for me.”

Maynala chugged her beer and swayed out of the kitchen, Taylor watching her swinging hips as she walked away from him.

“Ya dirty wee bastard. Ah saw ye.”

“That surely means that you were watching too Mac,” noted Taylor still watching the svelte but receding form of his Captain as she headed towards the cellars below their headquarters.