...Not cool

Who: Phil's team
Where: Hangar, FC, and Space
When: guess
Mk.8 inspected the Blue Midget they were to use for the
ingredient-gathering. He noticed many strange retrofits and rewiring.
It all seemed strangely familiar. What gave it away were the busted-up
leg gyros.
"My GOD!"
Phil walked up next to Mk.8
"What is it?" he asked casually, looking over Mk.8's shoulder at the
jumble of wires Mk.8 was examining.
"This is Efof's and my Blue Midget! The 'Flying Circus'!"
"Heh, which explains the heavy Aussie rock in the cassette player.
Come on, we better get underway."
"Yeah, be there in a sec. Just gotta grab some...special equipment."
Phil raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off, and began to shepard the
rest of the group into the ship, MP proving to give the most resistance.
Mk.8 looked around rather suspiciously, and picked up a large bulky
object covered by a sheet.
He floated up the boarding ramp, and placed it into the cargo hold.
"Ok Phil, what do we have to collect?" asked Chrizla
"Well, I thought we would go get the safest thing first; a bio
power-node from an Electrolodillo, over on New South America.
Creatures capable of torturing their foes with precisely aimed
electric jolts to...'key areas'." said Phil, only beginning to sound
worried towards the end of his description.
Mk.8 quickly moved over to the pilot's seat irritating some of the
other members of the crew.
Murmurs of "You aren't even a pilot!" came from the passenger section.
"Hey," said Mk.8 "No one knows this ship like I do. She needs precision."
With that, Mk.8 shot a hole in the dashboard and the ship sprung to
life, sprinting down the launch tube in it's patented silly-walk fashion.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
A few hours of flight later, the crew had found ways to amuse
themselves. Most of this involved using MP and large tools for target
practice. Mk.8 had driven a large metal shaft through the steering
column, or as he called it, 'autopilot', and was doing a bit of arc
welding on the object he had stowed aboard.
All the crews' activities were, however, interrupted by a loud beeping
coming from the radio. Everyone gathered around the pilot console,
leaning in as much as possible, ensued by much jostling. Kara finally
managed to poke through enough to press the 'open channel' button.
A strangely accented voice came through.
"Help! Help! They're everywhere! The sheep! Its wonderful and horrible
at the same time!"
"Ok, calm down" said Phil "What's the matter?"
The voice seemed to take a moment to compose itself.
Our sheep cloner. It's out of control! We're close to drowning in
them! Quickly, we're on New New New Zealand. Quickly!"
The voice was drowned out with bleating, and the radio finally fizzled
out.
Chris turned to Phil.
"Why is it called NEW New New Zealand?"
"I heard that the planet New New Zealand was obliterated by an
Anti-Sheep-Bumming militia." said Phil, before ordering the immediate
course change.
Mk.8 started towards the wheel, before stopping and turning to the
rest of the crew.
"...Do we HAVE to?"
The whole crew nodded in unison.
Mk.8 sighed and tore the 'autopilot' out of the wheel and spun the
ship towards New New New Zealand.
MP appeared cautiously optimistic.
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