View your shopping cart.
"Sparky, reload the Big Bertha, now! Two minutes. All hands stand ready! Safety procedure Code Red. 2nd Mate out." I hear 2nd Mate's voice, thick with urgency and desperation, in my earpiece. I shudder. Big Bertha? Suicide. No time for Code Red checklist anyway.
"Yes, Sir! Big Bertha reload. Sparky out." I report back. "Baltu, power to the bleed capacitors, Checklist Procedure Code Red. Now!" I yell to my only remaining crew, the Second Lineman Baltugirbaldorge-and that is just his first name.
"Another back-to-back mission! What happened to the Regulations' mandated five-minute rest, debrief, re-brief and all that good stuff? I am not a machine, I am a Mzzit, I need rest! And what about all the other squadron pilots, the brown nosers! Yessir, yessir! Have them fly back-to-back missions!"
Torl took a deep breath and relaxed a bit at the bio-controls, sipping refreshing Spank gratefully while programming the bio-zoid to maintain same course at current speed and altitude for two seconds.
Much needed rest. Dangerous but within tolerances of the current situation. Torl shut down most of his eyes tiredly, leaving just a few open to scan the instruments and any dangers ahead. And dangers there were, to be sure, somewhere ahead. In Quadrant ZZX.
"Gran'pa Baltazar, tell us a story! Gran'pa Baltazar tell us a story!" the little ones nagged shrilly, tugging on the old man's tunic.
"Well, alright, my little pigeons, gather around" old Baltazar eyed the small fry affectionately. His four little grand children, all daughter's stock, nestled excitedly at his feet by the fire in the Great Hall.
"What story would you like to hear, my little fishes?"
