Space Pickles

A short story written by Marty Handfield with PlotWeaver: Cards of Creation, a storytelling game made by Mod Hob Cooperative.

This story uses an Inverted Plot Pattern, written in 15-minute timed acts with all story cards drawn at random. For more information, visit www.plotweavergame.com

Act 1: Immediate Conflict or Crisis

Story Elements: The Guardian, Space Station, Good versus Evil, and Comedy

What a pickle I am in, thought Slim as he surveyed the cafeteria in utter disbelief. The artificial gravity down, food and comrades floating through the air, intermixed with a gelatinous greenish substance that had to be that alien life form…. The one he was told must be kept in strict quarantine.

And of course, the Captain was nowhere to be seen. He had, for all intents and purposes, vanished through thin air. Or had he been vaporized? Slim couldn’t tell through the fog in his brain… Damn this Space Moonshine, he thought for the umpteen time as his colleagues muttered, laughed, and generally behaved like the village idiot of some backwater agri planet.

That’ll teach me to start celebrating too soon, he thought while trying to swim through air, or at least maintain a somewhat upright position. Not that it mattered much, in space, up is wherever you want it to be, down is just the same. But it's still nice to have everything nice and tidy.

But above all, he had to steer clear of the alien ooze… that had been quarantined for a damn good reason, he was sure of it. Heavens forbid, it was from the unspeakably evil alien race of the Gambits. The Gambits were dead set on kicking human arse throughout the Universe for the sheer pleasure of the hunt. Notches on their space belts and whatnot… What a damn pickle Slim was in.

Act 2: Explanation & Cause Analysis

Story Element Cards: The Trickster

It had all started with that derelict spacecraft that just wasn’t supposed to be there. Up until that point, the sailing had been smooth, as the saying goes. Just pick the cargo from Space Station Heliops, and deliver it to this set of coordinates, the tall man had said. Something had been really off about this guy, though, Slim realized through hindsight. The Captain had remained unfazed throughout, but Slim had kept feeling ill at ease in the company of their fixer for the job. The wide smile and white teeth to begin with. That and that unnerving laughter of his, like it was all a big joke. The Captain had tried to reassure him, tell him fixers were known for being colourful characters, that was part of the job, something to do with being memorable, and thus top of mind for runners looking for jobs.

Picking up the cargo had been a piece of cake. Show the proper fake forms wearing the right uniforms, and load the crates into the cargo hull. Slim had no idea what the crates contained prior to the incident. Now he knew, of course. An alien life form no less… But the rules were strict, weren’t they? Runners don’t ask questions, at least not when it comes to specifics they don’t need to know about in the first place….

Then that derelict ship floating out of nowhere… The Captain got greedy; that’s what happened. The Fixer had been a shrewd negotiator, and the pay was about half of their going rate for fetch and retrieve gigs. That’s why the Captain had to take the decision to board the derelict and sweeten the pot, as it were. He had counted on the ship’s défenses still being up and running, though, had he? Slim trusted the Captain with his life; that man had made him into a proper runner, he had, but sometimes, sometimes greed got the best of him, now, didn’t it?

Hence, the current pickle Slim was in.

Act 3: Climactic Resolution

Story Element Cards: Crystal Hourglass)

There was no clean way out of this pickle… No CTRL-Z thing, no undo feature. Or was there? Faster than Light Travel was a dicey proposition still, and for good reason. Activating a ship’s warp drive and entering the Void was always done with the utmost care. One had to plot their course carefully ahead, entry point, destination, everything had to be precise. One didn’t want to disturb any of those creatures lurking in the Void, creatures like those charming Gambits, for instance. But one also had to be careful with time distortion.

Slim had heard countless stories of reckless Space Cowboys being projected decades in the future, or in the past… But what about creating a time distortion on purpose? Time travel had been abandoned as a whole by humanity as being too dangerous a practice, but in theory, one could misuse the warp drive on purpose to travel through time. The risks involved were considered too great by most, but Slim had clean ran out of options. He has to fix things. Also, he had a sinking feeling the Captain had been vaporized, and his precious molecules were floating in the air along with the booze and the ooze.

Slim started wading towards the Warp Drive controls, his decision taken. He would be reckless on purpose. He would be a Space Cowboy gambling it all. As his hands clutched the red throttle, he uttered a quick prayer to All Mighty Tech and pushed it down with force, only to pull back on it right before fully entering the Void. An interrupted intercourse, almost, he thought grimly, but with potentially far more sinister ramifications….

Slim felt his stomach lurch as the ship came out of the Void it had barely entered. His eyes were shut, and so quite naturally he opened them slowly. Gone was the mess in the cafeteria, he could see from his station at the helm. Had it worked? That was when he noticed the ship was entirely empty. Everyone had disappeared. And what’s more, the ship looked shiny and new, like mint, like just out of the factory.

Slim was lost in Space and time. Now that was another pickle.

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