The Buccaneer Chronicles:
The Christmas Staff Party
By Tony Gallichan (Despite interference by Keith Dunn, Adam J Purcell and Andy Simpkins)
Mist floated between the pillars of the huge crypt like room.. It weaved its way through the many gothic arches as f trying to bring even more creepiness into the gloomy chamber. What light there was came from the capsules. They were lined around the basses of the archways. Each one glowed with a gentle light. If you were to walk up to one and brush the slight layer of frost off the glass canopy, you would have seen the face of a young girl. Though perfectly still, her eyes were open and a maniacal grin was plastered across her face. You would see the same thing in every capsule.
All five thousand of them.
Suddenly, one of the capsules began to glow very brightly. Then, with a strange, organic noise, the lid flipped open and the girl inside slowly climbed out. She staggered for a moment, hand to her head, then she began to explore her surroundings. She walked for a while through the mist, skipping occasionally. She could have only been around the fourteen year mark.
Without realising it, she skipped right past an arched alcove. If she had gone through she would have sent that scientist, philosopher and general bon vivant, Creat of Sotm. He was checking some of the capsules, making a note of the various readings. He heard the footsteps of the girl and spun around. Though only being a floating metal head, Creat had had many adventures and his experience had taught him that if a Blanche clone were loose in the Ship, there would be trouble. He started to follow her.
Macfadyan started when he heard the soft footsteps of the latest Blanche clone. She shouldnt have been up and about so early. Making a quick check on a hand held display he realised that the mental conditioning was incomplete. The clone had no sense of right or wrong. He sighed and began to stalk after her muttering to himself,
"Once, not very far from now, " he chuckled at his own little joke, "there was a little clone called Blanche." He began to speed up his pace.
Blanche reached a work area. She trotted over to the table and something shiny caught her eye. A manic grin crept across her face. Then she heard a voice.
"And she was, very, very psychotic."
Her hand reached for the shiny object and she whirled around to face Macfadyan.
"And had a very big knife!"
The gun blast took Blanche full on. She faded into a negative, screaming. Then the smoking shell of her body crumpled to the floor, the knife coming to rest beside it. Macfadyan put his Dalek gun back into his pocket.
"Bugger! Oh well, Cre'at?"
The Sot'm looked up from where he was inspecting the body.
"I'll get rid of the body while you activate another clone. And do try to get it right this time. You know how much I hate a mess in my ship."
He stalked away with the remains; leaving a concerned Sot'm staring after him.
Two hours relative time from then-
Adh Saidhe fidgeted nervously in his chair. Sitting across from him was a very crotchety Macfadyan, glaring at him as if challenging his right to exist. Between the two sat Colin Curtis, hoping against hope that Macfadyan would behave in a civilised manner.
"I don't know why I let myself get talked into this." said the grumpy Time Lord.
"You promised Blanche, remember?" said Saidhe. Macfadyan's glower grew deeper.
Time to act thought Curtis.
"Where is Blanche?" he asked. Now it was Macfadyan's turn to look awkward.
"Ah. Yes, there was a little problem with the clone reactivation." Curtis couldn't believe his ears. After the last time, he thought that Macfadyan had learnt his lesson.
"You mean you killed her. Again." He said.
"Look, she was psychotic, ok? It wasn't my fault."
"No. It never is" said Saidhe, sarcastically.
"Quiet, you!" Macfadyan looked at Curtis. The Human looked mildly perturbed. Time to cheer him up, he thought.
"Now then, Crumbly,"
"Curtis!" came the sharp correction,
"I have a present for you." He reached down beside his chair, picked up the parcel there, and gave it to Curtis. The Human unwrapped it quickly and a look of surprise crossed his face as several small rocks fell out.
"Rocks?" he stutted.
"Yes!" replied, Macfadyan, gleefully. "Just keep banging them together. Look, Curtis! Shiny thing, nice shiny thing". Saidhe sighed. Time to stop Macfadyan's gleeful torment of Curtis.
"Why can't you be nice, just for change?" he asked. "I mean, it is Christmas, after all."
"Shut up!" came the reply. "Your only here because the ape man invited you."
This came from Curtis. He was determined to enjoy this holiday.
"I wonder how Cre'at's doing with the roast?" he said.
There was a stunned silence.
"Cre'at?" said Saidhe.
"Cre'at? Oh dear" chuckled Macfadyan.
There was the most godawfull noise of plates and pans crashing onto the floor. From around a corner came Cre'at, a platter in his hands. On it was the bird.
* Yes. We have the turkey! * He stated.
Macfadyan started to chuckle.
"Oh dear." He knew he should have helped the Sot'm, but this had seemed like much more fun.
"Ladies, gentlemen and friends of Captain Yates - that's you, Crumbly, welcome to the fascinating world of forensic eating!" Curtis was not impressed.
"It's raw, Cre'at." The Sot'm looked at him.
* It is deceased *
"You're supposed to cook it first!
* It is deceased * reiterated Cre'at.
"Did you even remember to remove the giblets?"
* Ah! The innards * Cre'at plunged his hand, lightning fast into the turkey and removed it clutching the insides of the raw turkey. Curtis' stomach began to turn.
* Curtis, you wish a closer inspection? * Said Cre'at and dropped the entrails right in front of the poor human.
"Oh god! Excuse me- " Curtis quickly got up from the table, his stomach starting to heave. Macfadyan sneered at him.
That was it, thought Saidhe. This really was just too much.
"I am so sick of you," he said. Macfadyan turned to him, momentarily misunderstanding him.
"Oh, nice pun." But Saidhe waved him to silence.
"I'd love to know just what neurological aberration happened that caused you!"
Then he realised he'd gone too far. Macfadyan's eyes glinted dangerously. Quickly reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his Dalek gun, pointed it roughly in Saidhes direction and fired. Feeling the heat of the blast only made Saidhe's own temper ignite.
"Ha! Missed. Oh, what a predictable response. See? Violence, the first resort of intellectually ignorant." He began to dodge quickly as Macfadyan sighted him again.
"Stand still!" called the Time Lord, " and die like a - like a..." he tailed off as his vocabulary started to again play tricks on him.
"Like an honourable man?" taunted Saidhe. Then he whooped in dismay as another blue bolt hurtled towards him.
Cre'at watched them, bewildered. Time to mollify the organics.
* Would you not prefer to play Monopoly? * He asked, hopefully.
* I would * he added forlornly. And as Macfadyan let loose another salvo, and as Saidhe kept frantically dodging between the gothic pillars, he turned aside and said,
* And a very merry primitive belief system festival to all of you organics at home *
No turkeys were hurt during the making of this story. However, the rest of the Staggering Stories team are praying that Tony has learnt a lesson about not leaving everything to the last minute.