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Sponge •
PG-13 •
Published: 4th December 2003 •
Updated: 23rd December 2005
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Author's notes :
If you are printing this story, the following will help you get a properly formatted copy.
When printing a chapter, highlight from the first line of text after a dotted line (including the chapter heading) to the last line of text before the next dotted line. It should then fit neatly onto the same number of A4 pages as my original copy does (if printed on 'Smaller' font size, or 12 point on a word processor).
Or you could email me and I'll send you a copy in Word format as soon as I can.
Hope this helps
Sponge
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Harrigan’s Heroes
Prologue
“We have got to make another launch, probably within two months, or the Farscape project is down for good” exclaimed DK to the people with him in the lunch cafeteria at IASA’s Canaveral facility.
“Preaching to the converted, mate” replied one of the radar operators “It’s not us you have to convince, it’s those guys with the money. After that fiasco with Columbia, space flight ain’t too popular with the bean-counters. If we don’t get funding, it’s down the gurgler for us. If we do, to the stars”. “Not you though!” laughed a weather tech “You can’t fly! You even get car-sick on the bus to the launch site”. “Yeah, I know, smartarse! I meant this project as a whole” was the reply from the radar op, after slapping the offender round the side of the head.
“Quiet, the lot of you!” DK growled “Though that remark was stupid, it does highlight one very important point. Namely this; none of us can even fly a cessna, let alone a shuttle”. After various replies along the lines “Oh shit!” and “Didn’t think of that”, “Aah!” along with many variations, a voice from the back made itself heard. “Though I can’t fly, I know someone who does. I’m sure he’ll agree to help. He even knew Commander Crichton a little before his flight”. All the members of the little group turned. The voice belonged to an air force corporal sitting at the back. “Go on” queried the radar operator, somewhat warily. “He’s not doing too well groundside either, from what little talk floats around from his lot. Some flying could be just what he needs to set him right” the corporal answered.
“How good is this guy?”. The question came from a supply clerk. The corporal responded with “As a pilot? If you believe officer’s gossip, damn good. I don’t know myself; I haven’t been up with him. We can go see his squadmates if you want, though morale ain’t been good there since, well, sine Farscape 1 went MIA honestly”. The rest of the group went into a huddle. After about three minutes of muttering back and forth, DK approached the, by now, slightly worried corporal. “OK, corporal. We do it. We’ll have a word with this pilot friend of yours. But no guarantees, not yet. Have a word with him and find out where and when we can meet”.
The corporal fished out his mobile phone from a pocket and punched a number in. “Pick up, pickup…” muttered the corporal “Captain Lazarus! Corp… Yes sir!…DK and a few mates to see Lieutenant Harrigan, sir…What?!…Can they see him?…Yes sir, tomorrow 12 noon here sir”. Punching the ‘off’ button, the corporal turned to address the group. “As you can probably tell from my side of that little talk, the situation isn’t too good. The L-T’s in the brig.”. After everyone had quietened down, he continued “His life outside the military wan’t going well, apparently. He got drunk on leave. Which considering the fact that he’s a teetotaller, means it’s baaaad. Took on four marines in a bar brawl. Two seriously injured, one may not even survive the experience. He’ll be court-martialled, maybe discharged. Captain Lazarus said he’d arrange a visit. We meet back here, 12 noon, tomorrow.”
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