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Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
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Selma - (Horizon)
5% [8 Votes]

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15% [25 Votes]

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16% [28 Votes]

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4% [7 Votes]

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April 2020 Ficlet Challenge
purplecleric
‘Someone among us determined that this mission should fail, and frankly, I can't even guess at a motive.’ Dr Kendall
‘Try greed. It's usually reliable.’ Avon - Mission to Destiny

The word prompt this month is … GREED

An intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food - or toilet paper!

*

For the second challenge:

One of the crew is a robot - and no, it’s not Avon...

*
 
Joe Dredd
purplecleric wrote:
For the second challenge:

One of the crew is a robot - and no, it’s not Avon...

Reminds me of the Glam Metal Detectives - One of Us is a Robot.

And I still want a motorcycle handgrip-style bigsby bar.
 
stormypetrel
“What the...” Blake stopped, staring at the figures in the teleport bay, then tried again. “What is that thing doing here?”

“It’s the new crew member,” quipped Vila. Blake gave him a dirty look.

“Avon. Explain.”

Avon shrugged. “It’s possible it might be useful.”

“For what? Blowing our heads off?”

“Other people’s, preferably,” said Avon, not specifying what other people he had in mind. “It’s damaged. I thought I could rewire it.”

The ‘new crew member’ made a feeble electronic noise, as if in hope.

“Prisoners of war often change sides,” added Vila brightly. “We persuaded him, that’s all. And then Gan said we ought to mend him, under the Zephron Convention, or something...”

“It would have been inhumane to leave otherwise,” put in Cally.

“Especially after he’d surrendered.” Gan released his grip on their new recruit, who clanged to the floor.

Blake looked at Jenna, who was still sitting, stunned, behind the teleport controls; but she only gazed helplessly back at him.

“This is a serious suggestion?” he asked her.

They seem to think so.”

“Well, you count Zen, and he’s not human...” Vila pointed out.

There was silence in the teleport section. The addition to the crew waited to hear his fate, robotically expressionless but undoubtedly not attacking anyone.

“All right,” said Blake eventually.

“You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Jenna, as the recruitment party broke into smiles.

“Welcome to the crew... Oh. What are we going to call him?” Vila looked suddenly concerned.

“We can think of that later.” Cally, seeing the protest still hovering on Jenna’s lips, made a move to hurry them out of range; Avon seemed to have had the same idea. He headed for the corridor, the others at his heels.

The security robot trailed slowly and methodically after them.
 
littlesue
Blimey Stormy...that was quick.
I usually walk upto the shops and back while getting an idea; rather difficult at the mo...

'ello, 'ello, 'ello, out for a walk again, madame?
Well, it's like this officer, I'm trying to compose a short story of 500 words or thereabouts and...
Blow into this bag Madam.

So...it looks as though it's the garden, the stairs, front room, downstairs cloakroom......
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
stormypetrel
littlesue wrote:

Blimey Stormy...that was quick.
I usually walk upto the shops and back while getting an idea; rather difficult at the mo...

'ello, 'ello, 'ello, out for a walk again, madame?
Well, it's like this officer, I'm trying to compose a short story of 500 words or thereabouts and...
Blow into this bag Madam.

So...it looks as though it's the garden, the stairs, front room, downstairs cloakroom......

I think best when I’m supposed to be doing something else. And it’s difficult at the best of times to concentrate on an online presentation...

You’d probably be safe from blowing into a bag, though. They aren’t going to want you to breathe anywhere near them at the minute!
 
Cygnus Bazza
That's got us off to a flier, SP! Great stuff.

Will have a go at something this evening.
 
M1795537 OC Virn
Brilliant, Stormy Petrel. And maybe Avon can fix that awful noise it makes while he's rewiring it.
You're not sulking, I hope?
 
Cygnus Bazza
GREED

“Blancmange… Thick blancmange!”

Avon’s mouth broke into a malicious grin.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about me…” lamented a crestfallen Vila. “Wish I’d never suggested a game of ‘What Foodstuff Would Your Shipmate Be?’.”

“But what about you, Avon?” Cally mused. “Yes. I definitely think you’d be…”

“Do NOT say ‘Marmite’!” barked Avon, raising his hand assertively like a traffic control cop instructing oncoming cars to brake hard and brake immediately. “I suggest you select something much more… lethal. A Japanese blowfish, perhaps…”

“Or a dodgy old scallop well past its sell-by date,” muttered Vila sulkily.

“Stop it!” Cally snapped. “Stop it right now! Gan’ll be teleporting Blake and Jenna back from the Planet of the Astronomers in a minute. I don’t want them to be greeted by you two having one of your kindergarten arguments…”

“He started it…” Avon snarled.

“Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t…” protested Vila.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Cally snapped again, even snappier than before. “Here they are now! Blake… What HAVE you got on your head?”

“This?” Blake replied. “Apparently, it’s called a ‘toque’. T – O – Q – U – E. Toque.”

“A toque?” queried Vila. “Must remember that word when I’m playing Space-Travel Scrabble.”

“You look ridiculous,” Avon opined. “What on earth makes you think wearing a tall white hat will reinforce your position as our self-appointed, self-satisfied leader?”

“Actually, it’s a chef’s hat,” Jenna explained, aiming to dispel the tension that had engulfed the bridge. “The sort of thing cooks used to wear back in the end-times of the first calendar.”

“Yes,” added Blake. “Turns out it wasn’t the Planet of the Astronomers after all. Some background beta-radiation must have interfered with the distress call. It was the Planet of the Gastronomers.”

“Are you serious?” sneered Avon, distinctly unimpressed.

“Completely,” Jenna confirmed. “Their world-city’s an archive of every foodstuff, every recipe in the galaxy. We fixed their trans-orgone accumulator for them and their leader, High Priestess Emmaness, was extremely grateful and…”

“…gave Blake a hat…” laughed Avon, shaking his head in amused disdain.

“Not just a hat!” Blake replied forcibly. “She also let us choose a zero-gravity recipe box and helped us whip up a very fine meal! Gan’s bringing it in now…”

“Smells goooooood…,” Gan drooled, laying the tray delicately (by Gan’s standards) on the navigation console.

“Emmaness said the recipe dates from the early third millennium,” Jenna explained.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” commented Cally, who’d never seen anything like it.

“Apparently, it’s cuttlefish cooked sous-vide, with distressed vegetables in macadamia pesto, garnished with a gavotte of sweet potato, peach salsa, celeriac foam and a pecan brittle. Who’s going to try some?”

“Bagsy me!” roared Gan, grabbing a space spork. “Mmm… Mmm…” His face spoke of rapture as he chewed greedily. “This is excellent! Thanks, Blake!”

“Well, it’s not just food…” grinned a triumphant Blake. “It’s Emmaness food… Try some, Avon!”

“I think not,” replied Avon, turning away enigmatically. “I wonder, Gan! Is it that Blake has a genius for leadership, or merely that you have a genius for being fed?”
 
JustBrad
A voice crackled over the intercom. “Commissioner, I have Hal Gort, head of the robot cartel for you.”

Commissioner Sleer pressed a button on the communications console. “Patch him through, voice only”

After a momentary pause, there came a hesitant, “Commissioner?”

“I am here, mister Gort, voice only I’m afraid. You know how security is at these top-secret facilities. Code names and all that, eh, Mister Gort?”

“Point taken, commissioner. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to speak to you about the android you built for us.”

Hal Gort cleared his throat. “Profound apologies Commissioner, but I did warn you that we were working with a handicap, given the unfortunate nonviable state of the original subject.”

“You misunderstand me, Mister Gort. I have not contacted you to complain, but to commend. The android you provided worked perfectly. The small imperfections in form and personality only added to the plausibility of the ruse, given the difficult and trying times the original subject endured. It is no exaggeration to say that even the best friends of the original subject were completely fooled, with disastrous results.” Commissioner Sleer smirked, a small laugh. “Disastrous for them, quite pleasant for me.”

The sigh of relief was audible even over the communications network. “I am glad to hear it commissioner. My engineers will be most pleased to hear that there was no erratic behavior on the part of the android.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Mister Gort. Let us say instead that the erratic behavior your android displayed was perfectly in character given the original subject’s own flawed mental state. And the red hydraulic fluid was a nice touch. It looked like real blood. A lot of real blood.”

“Well, Commissioner, allow me to reiterate that if, in future, we have an original subject in good condition, we can make a perfect replica.”

“I think you did very well, Mister Gort, very well indeed, considering the original subject died on Jevron well over a year ago.”
i.imgur.com/AD5ikh4.png
MODthra
 
Travisina
Bravo, StormyP and CygnusB - two laugh out loud stories to start the month!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
 
stormypetrel
Cygnus Bazza- GrinGrin

Brad, neat but chilling!
 
stormypetrel
And just in case you thought I’d abandoned the serial- Joe, this is your fault for asking ‘what happens next’ back in January- here you go. I mean, it would be inconsiderate of me to leave it hanging in mid-air, now, wouldn’t it?

“Cally? Help. Come back... please?” Dead silence in the teleport section; Vila curled up on the bench in despair, trying to ignore rapidly worsening fear. Trust Tarrant to try to make a deal with a poisoner; and then not even have the decency to be the one who was poisoned, just get everyone else captured into the bargain, so there was nobody left to help. Vila was fairly sure he needed help; he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so ill. Well, maybe once, after his first professional job...

The sudden memory was vivid enough that he wondered if this was his life flashing in front of his eyes, before- no, it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. He was all right. He had been all right that time, hadn’t he? Not that he’d been poisoned, then, but still...

He had been very proud of being big enough to go out with Tad Merrel’s gang, conveniently ignoring the fact that they really wanted him because he was small enough, at six, to be lifted through a narrow window in order to undo an internal door lock. He had managed that, easily. Not a hard lock, if you could reach it. So the adults had walked straight through the open door, praised their tiny accomplice, and told him to wait by the window he had climbed in, while they got busy.

It was hardly Vila’s fault if they had left him in the food store of a fancy Alpha residence, was it? He was inquisitive, that was all. And hungry, but who wasn’t, where he came from? He hadn’t even heard of some of the things on the shelves, let alone seen them. And thieving was what they were there for...

He had put his chosen career on quite a solid footing by the time he realised that experimental mixtures of Alpha delicacies were incompatible with small Delta stomachs. When Tad’s gang returned, he was feeling very sick and in considerable pain.

The men had been unimpressed.

“What are you snivelling about?”

“I... I don’t... don’t feel very well...”

Tad surveyed the shelves. “I’m not surprised, you greedy little tick!” Vila almost wept at the overt disapproval. “You’ll be lucky if you fit back through the window after that lot. And you know what happens to little boys who get caught stealing, if we have to leave you behind.”

Vila did. Vila was also instantly certain that he wouldn’t fit through the window, and terror increased the pain in his inside to the point that it seemed equally certain he was about to avoid instant deportation to Cygnus Alpha by dying there and then.

The ignominious end was being carried home to his mother, trying not to sob too obviously into the shoulder of Tad’s tunic. He had stuck to stealing shiny things after that...

He half-opened an eye, checking that it was just a memory, and he was still alive and feeling dreadful on board the Liberator. He was; as was Orac, minus key. Dizzily, Vila replaced it.

“Orac, help.”

“In what capacity? I cannot do two things at once.”

“What...” Vila stopped as he saw the teleport controls begin to move. There was a familiar noise; and then the indescribable relief of equally familiar companions appearing in the teleport bay, which he couldn’t hide as he greeted them. “What kept you?”
 
Joe Dredd
littlesue wrote:
'ello, 'ello, 'ello, out for a walk again, madame?
Well, it's like this officer, I'm trying to compose a short story of 500 words or thereabouts and...
Blow into this bag Madam.

Why, officer?
Because my chips are too hot.
 
littlesue
Joe Dredd wrote:

littlesue wrote:
'ello, 'ello, 'ello, out for a walk again, madame?
Well, it's like this officer, I'm trying to compose a short story of 500 words or thereabouts and...
Blow into this bag Madam.

Why, officer?
Because my chips are too hot.


Grin
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
JustBrad
stormypetrel wrote:
...

Brad, neat but chilling!


That was my intention. Thanks.
i.imgur.com/AD5ikh4.png
MODthra
 
GanMiniMe
I can tell nobody can go out because two days in to the month we’ve already got lots of rollicking good stories!
 
Cygnus Bazza
ROBOT

Jenna: So what makes you think one of them’s a robot?

Cally: Small clues. All the WD-40’s gone missing. It’s great for keeping moving parts in shape.

J: Well, you’d know all about that where Avon’s concerned. Anything else?

C: Someone keeps borrowing my Kraftwerk LP (plus they don't put it back in its sleeve - very annoying).

J: I can’t believe vinyl’s making another comeback! Well, I haven’t heard anyone playing it. Gan seems happy with his Mungo Jerry albums, Vila’s still partial to a bit of 10cc, Blake’s listening to my ‘Very Best of David Soul’ LP…

C (singing): “Come on, Silver Lady, take my word…”

J: That’s quite enough of that. And Avon’s still going through his death-metal phase. Strange. I’d have put money on Bad Company being his thing…

C: But that’s just it. We’ve got a secret Kraftwerk fan among us. Doubtless creeping around Liberator at night, down to the big fridge for a crafty glass of R White's lemonade, before giving the German-language version of ‘Das Model’ a secret spin under the bedclothes with the volume turned down to ‘1’. All very suspicious.

J: Do robots even drink lemonade? Irn-Bru, perhaps. But lemonade?

C: There’s no Irn-Bru left. Not since Avon solved the girder murders on that plasma ship and dumped our last pallet in deep space just to be on the safe side.

J: Any other ‘clues’?

C: What about that grinding sound that occasionally emanates from the boys’ restroom?

J: Well that’s really none of our business…

C: Of course it is! At first I thought there was a problem with the hand-dryer.

J: Those bloomin’ Dyson Laser-Blades… But no, I'm not convinced! If Blake, say, was a robot, the evidence would be less circumstantial than a shortage of multi-use lubricant and a bit of grinding in the gents…

C: Perhaps there are clues in the Three Laws of Robotics.

J: What on earth are they?

C: Laws. About robotics. There’s three of them.

J: Thanks, Cally. You've truly enlightened me…

C: The first states ‘a robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to
harm’.

J: That rules out Blake. He LOVES dishing it out. The only 5-a-day regime he adheres to is the number of dead
Feds he likes to rack up by teatime.

C: The second says ‘a robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the first law’.

J: Obeying orders? It’s definitely not Avon then! And the third?

C: It says ‘a robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection doesn’t conflict with the first or second laws’.

J: In plain speech, please?

C: Basically, it doesn’t give robots a lot of room for manoeuvre… Wait! I’ve got it!

J: Well don’t give it to me!

C: Jenna, join the dots! WD-40. Das Model. Grinding. It’s OBVIOUS!

J: It isn’t. Obviously.

C: Yes it is! I know who the robot is! It’s

WE APOLOGISE FOR THIS BREAK IN TRANSMISSION. OUR ENGINEERS ARE WORKING TO RESTORE YOUR SERVICE...
Edited by Cygnus Bazza on 03 April 2020 20:14:10
 
Frankymole
What are the rules for writing one of these stories?
Edited by Frankymole on 03 April 2020 23:56:16
 
Frankymole

J: Those bloomin’ Dyson Laser-Blades… But no, I'm not convinced! If Blake, say, was a robot, the evidence would be less circumstantial than a shortage of multi-use lubricant and a bit of grinding in the gents…

C: Perhaps there are clues in the Three Laws of Robotics.

J: What on earth are they?

C: Laws. About robotics. There’s three of them.

J: Thanks, Cally. You've truly enlightened me…
I loved this entire thing! Laughing aloud...
 
Joe Dredd
Frankymole wrote:

What are the rules for writing one of these stories?


Hi Frank, there aren't too many constraints -

* Work at least one of the prompts at the top of the thread into your story/vignette/poem/script, but be as tangential and imaginative as you like.

* Keep it clean.

* Try to keep it to 500 words or less, excluding the title (it's not mandatory or enforced - think of it more like a target to aim for, like a golf par. That said, it's not the place to post your giant roller coaster of a novel, with 42 chapters and sizzling gypsies).

* Have fun.

* Everyone is welcome to join in.

I think that about covers it.
 
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