Sci-fi story (short)

Beware, random idea for a sci-fi story, comedy and drama, not intended to be serious

Newspapers can be very interesting sometimes. Maybe that’s why so many people read them. I stare at the article on the front page, topped with a massive heading:

 

SECRET TERRORIST ORGANISATION WORKING IN AUSTRALIA

The federal government is currently leading an investigation into secret terrorist organisations working under cover in Australia. There is possibly even more than one organisation, so it has to be dealt with quickly, for it is rumoured that the organisation may be planning attacks on some very important icons around the world...

 

*****

 

Another update. Constantly the satellites are getting more advanced, which means more work for me of course. I lift the lid of my laptop, and navigate through my emails until I reach the next satellite update. My jaw drops in surprise when I see what the APGO (Australian Secret Government Organisation) wants me to work on:

 

6^th January 2011 10:32AM

The ‘X-Vertima’ satellite should be a one of a kind satellite. It needs the most advanced lasers available, and a very strong defence mechanism. We are putting your intelligence to a test here. Use your best abilities to make the most advanced satellite ever.

 

I click PRINT and walk to the printing room. Why would they want me to make a satellite with all these extras? They said they only use my satellites to spy on other countries, and the lasers they specified are powerful enough to destroy something on the moon…. or even on the Earth. And why would the satellite need good defence? What are they really using my satellites for?

I walk into the small printing room, feeling slightly claustrophobic and the odour of the printer toner always gives me a headache. The printing machine buzzes and rocks as more paper spits out. I lean over and grab the sheets from the tray, then wander back to my office, flicking through the papers, hoping my headache goes away. The last sheet catches my eye. It looks different to the others. I sit down and lay the last page out on the desk.

 

On 6^th January 2011, at 1:00PM, the Y-Class satellites will be released from Base-2 and attack the White House in Washington D.C. There will be many infidel casualties, including the President, who’s scheduled to be in the White House at that time.

 

I begin to shake as I stare at the words, my headache is instantly gone, but my head hurts. There is a horrifying diagram at the bottom of the page, which shows the position the satellites are to attack from. And to think I made these satellites… Who am I really working for???

 

I grab my lunchbox and rush down the corridor. I’m in a state of hysterical panic, but I need to appear calm.  I have to stop this attack from taking place! I look at the clock hanging on the otherwise bare concrete wall. 11:00am. In 2 hours the satellites will depart from the base. ONLY 2 HOURS!!!

 

I ask myself what I should do. The police station is miles away, and we have no phones – for security….  They would never get here in time anyway. I can’t confront the head scientist, doing that would cause some serious trouble – they might hurt or kill me. I decide to take matters into my own hands. What can I do?

After 5 minutes of eating my stale sandwich in the lunchroom, my eyes fall upon a large container of sugar, sitting on the bench. A plan enters my mind. I have to wait until everybody has left the room though, I can’t afford to get caught.

 

The minutes pass as people come through the room, making coffees, eating sandwiches, and the like. At 11:20 finally the coast is clear. I pick up my lunchbox from the bench, and walk over to the sugar. I pick up the container and awkwardly sneak down the hallway, hoping terribly that nobody would see me. As I round more and more bends without being caught, I feel confident enough to go at a slow walk.

Oh no. Footsteps. Just as I jump back into the shadows of the broom closet, my friend Bob walks past, heading for his snacks in the lunchroom, I assume. Resisting a desperate urge to say hi, I emerge from the cupboard and continue my journey to base number 2.

After a few more bends in the corridor, I finally reach the base. Holding the container of sugar in front of me, I reach for my identity pass, and scan it under the identification device. I walk in, and making sure to door is closed behind me, approach the first of 5 satellites. After a bit of fumbling with the fuel tank latch I finally pull the fuel lid open. I unscrew the top of the sugar container, and gently tip some of it into the tank. I slam shut the fuel tank lid, and move on to the next satellite, doing the same with it. By the time I reach the 4^th satellite, there is only a handful of sugar left. By the 5^th tank, the sugar container is as empty as Bob’s head.

Time is running out, and I still need to sabotage the last satellite. Suddenly an idea pops into my head. Thinking back to my teenage years, I remember a movie with Eddie Murphy shoving a banana up the exhaust pipe of a car to make it stall. I’m running out of time so it’s worth a try I guess…

I grab my banana out of my lunch box and shove it up the exhaust pipe of the last satellite as far as I can.               

Feeling very relieved, I sneak back to the lunchroom and place the empty sugar container on the bench where I found it. Then I stride back to my office on the other side of the building, hoping against hope that nobody would suspect me of sabotaging the satellites. Just as I sit down at my desk, a booming shout echoes down the hall. My heart skips a beat. Suddenly more yells follow. Shaking, I get up and quickly decide that I won’t run away. That would make me seem suspicious, so I conclude that I will stay calm, and act surprised that the satellites were sabotaged. I walk briskly towards where I thought the yells were coming from. Without realising it, I end up in the lunchroom. It seems the whole workplace is standing there staring at me.

“You…you don’t understand…I didn’t do…” I stammer, face to face with the head scientist.

“Then who did?” He cuts me off.

“You know how I am without my coffee at lunch. Which one of you used all the sugar!?” He screamed, turning around to face my colleagues. His face turned a bright scarlet.

 

 

“YOU,” he roared, turning back to me. “Go to the shop, now, and buy me more sugar. If you take too long, you know what the consequences will be.”

“Yes sir,” I answer, feeling very relieved. Now’s my chance to get away!

I rush to my Holden Hover, and zoom home, glad to have escaped the danger of the APGO. That’s when it hits me. If I haven’t been working for the Australian Government, who have I been working for? My thoughts float back to the newspaper article I read this morning. Secret terrorist organisations working in Australia…

 

*****

 

1:00pm. I rush to the veranda and look towards the APGO. Straining my ears, I hear a faint mosquito-like buzzing sound in the distance. Now straining my eyes, I see an object moving into the air. I run down, past my front yard, down the road, and sprint up the biggest hill in town. Once at the top, I look up at the sky. My heart starts thumping in my chest. I see a satellite. The banana mustn’t have worked after all…

Sadly, I stare with intent at the rising satellite, wishing it would somehow fall from the sky. Anything that would stop it from blowing up the white house would be great.

Well, all I can say is that my wish comes true. Just as the satellite reaches such a height that it is directly above me, the engine conks out with a spray of sparks. The satellite begins to fall, gaining more speed each second.

I should have been over the moon with joy, seeing that satellite fall, but there was one slight problem. The satellite was zooming towards the small piece of ground that I was standing on…

 

 

Author's Note

Note: i didnt know to much about the subject

Reviews

[Luke A]

Ash, I never knew you could write like that (not that I'm surprised) this is great. Keep up the good work.

Luke