Previous Next

Running late

Posted on Mon Jun 5th, 2017 @ 11:31pm by Flick O'Mahony
Edited on on Tue Jun 6th, 2017 @ 9:34pm

Mission: Dramatis Personae
Location: Utopia Planetia/USS Solaria

"What do you mean we're late. I ordered an early morning alarm call." snapped Flick O'Mahony when she answered the door and saw her cameraman standing there.

Mike shrugged his shoulders and tapped his watch. "I've been trying to wake you for the last hour. Just how much did you have to drink last night?"

"Not enough" she replied struggling to get into her new boots. God they were tight. They fit well enough in the shop when she tried them on yesterday ad were so snug and comfortable. Now she would be lucky if she didn't end up with blisters by the end of the day.

"Come on Flick." urged Mike picking up her stuff. "We're gonna have to run for it."

"By the way the News Station want a report of you heading for the ship...I guess that's a no then?" Mike asked as they were running.

The look she gave in told her his answer "Too right."

They were running like the clappers, dodging people and equipment everywhere. Everyone and their luggage seemed to be out today. She nearly lost sight of Mike at one point as he speared his way through the crowds for them.

Flicks stomach growled in protest at the sudden exertion and strain it was forced to be under. Whatever it was she had to eat or drink late last night or was it early this morning, certainly wasn't lying easy on her now. She fought down the urge to retch, there wasn't time to retch, they had a ship to catch.

Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead it was taking an age to get to the airlock. If she missed the ship, there would be hell to pay for and no doubt she would be posted onto some outer edge hole in the task force.

Nearly there, nearly there... She told herself. Oh hell, she was kidding herself. Flick knew she wasn't going to make it and was getting slower and slower, all her energy had drained out of her as if a plug had been pulled.

Then she felt herself being propelled along, half carried and mostly dragged through the airlock and onto the airlock entrance of the USS Solaria where she fell in a heap on the floor. It was not the most elegant of arrivals as Flick lay gasping for air on the floor like a fish out of water.

A smartly dressed young crewman in his new uniform was on duty at the airlock that morning. He hadn't come across this before and wasn't quite sure what to do with the woman who lay on the floor looking deathly grey and dreadfully sick.

He checked their i.d. F.N.S reporter and cameraman. Flick O'Mahony and Mike Evans. He turned to Mike.

"Er Sir, would you like me to call the Doctor." he asked pointing to the comms unit on the wall.

Mike hunched over and leaning against a bulkhead waved the young crewman aside. "No... we'll be fine. Just running a little late that's all, she just needs to get her second wind, she'll be alright in a minute."

Mike dragged Flick to her feet and tapped her on the face. "Ok Flick?"

Flick pulled herself upright and straightened her clothes. "I'm ok" she stammered feeling dreadful. She smoothed down her hair, clothesand smiled at the young crewman and then immediately emptied the contents of her stomach all over the crewman's new boots.

"I'm sorry, she gets a little space sick when she travels. Give her a day or two and she'll be ok." apologised Mike on Flick's behalf. "...Sorry about your boots. C'mon Flick, a cup of tea and a nice lie down is what you need and then you'll get your space legs. Let's find our quarters, must be down this way... nope it's definitely this way."

All the young crewman could do was look on as they turned left and then turned right. It wasn't quite what he expected of the Fleet News Service. The young crewman thought it wise to avoid having any kind of contact with them in the future.


Previous Next