Brenty Four 2013 - Chapter 2

[Lissa]

“Space policeman? The man John? The twenty eighth century? You're Penny Danger. And you're John Manly. But you're fictional characters from the 1960s television series Adventures into Space so your captain is...”

Before I could finish the door swooshed open again and a tall, thin man in a dark grey uniform with rockets on his shoulders came into the sickbay.

“I'm Captain Butch Maitland. Welcome aboard she SS Pioneer.”

“You can't be Captain Maitland” I told him.

“I assure you I am. I have certificates in my personal development chest that prove my name, my rank and the key development nodes that I navigated successfully in order to achieve them. At the Academy I earned a BUNTI score of 886 which only two people in my year beat and both of them were killed when the space cruisers they got to captain were blown up in the war with the Pebelons. That's why 886 is now my lucky number. I collect sporting shirts with 886 on the back of them and have over six in my bedroom back in Central City. It’s also my password for... never mind.”

“Captain Maitland, this man claims to have travelled through time” said the female now provisionally identified as Penny Danger.

“I hate to correct you but I did not say that I travelled through time. I told her I am from the twenty first century. For all we know it is you lot that have travelled through time to me in 2013 Bendaton.”

“That's absurd. There hasn't been a Bendaton for five hundred years – what used to be Great Britain is now split into Central City and Tartan City.”

“I know” I told him, “I've read everything there is to read about Adventures into Space. I'm fully conversant with your version of the twenty eighth century. I know all about December Festival, I know all about the Queenbot and I know all about the Pebelon Wars.”

“He's a spy, Captain” gasped the woman claiming to be Penny Danger. “We must execute him at once.”

“Dammit Butch she's right – this fellow knows things about us that only someone who lives in the twenty eighth century could possibly know. Wait. Now I say that out loud it doesn't sound quite as damming as I thought it did. Sorry Pen - I tried to help but it didn't work.”

“Perhaps” interrupted the so-called Captain Maitland, “this man could tell someone who he is before we decide what to do with him.”

“I'm Doctor Dennis Brent and I'm a world renowned expert in...”

“You're a doctor? That's splendid. Your broken legs will need urgent treatment if we're to prevent then setting at their current angles and I don't entirely trust the surgical medibots to do the job properly. I broke a nail once and one volunteered to file it for me. The blessed machine all-but pulled my finger out of its socket, put the nail it ripped off in a plastic bag and labelled it F. It then popped it in an in-tray and send a tele-memo to Penny asking her to put it in the E to J cabinet. I hate to imagine what they would do with two broken legs. Do you dance professionally?”

“No” I replied.

“Good” he said with a grim nod of his well-groomed head. “But all that's academic now if you're a doctor as you can guide them through the operation. I was going to give you a full anaesthetic but now we'll just paralyse you from the waist down.”

He pressed an intercom button on the wall

“Fingers to medical room three. That's Fingers to medical room three. Thank you.”

“Dammit Butch this is room two” said the man purporting to be the man John.

“Is it?”

“Yup. Three is where I get my head measured every six months to check my brain has stopped swelling and I've never had it done in here. No head calibrator in here - this one specialises in lower half stuff.”

He pointed to what was labelled as a foot measuring machine by way of proof.

Maitland pressed the intercom again.

“Fingers to disregard order to go to medical room three. That's Fingers to ignore order to go to medical room three. Thank you.”

“Dammit Butch now the little fellow won't come anywhere.”

Maitland pressed the intercom a third time.

“Fingers to report to medical room three...”

“Two.”

“Medical room two immediately. That is all.”

The door swooshed open and there was a small man claiming to be Fingers the Sensorite, engineer aboard the SS Pioneer.

“Yes captain?” He said quietly. Maitland hadn't expected him so quickly and jumped slightly in amazement.

“Ah there you are” he said when he'd recovered his wits. “This man is a doctor and is going to need to be half awake in order to supervise the medibots operating to fix his two broken legs. We need your use your spoon shaped gun carefully so as to only paralysed half his body and stun only half his nerves. Do you understand?”

“Yes Captain” said the alleged Sensorite. He proceeded to shoot me in the left shoulder. “Only the left side of his body is now paralysed” he declared.

“Oh dear” said Maitland, “I suppose that'll have to do. Can you supervise using just your right arm?”

“I can't supervise an operation with two arms” I said wittily. “I'm not a medical doctor - I'm a doctor of telehistorical research.”

“Then I suppose it doesn't matter how many arms you've got” said Maitland, “or legs for that matter.”

He went over to a control panel and pressed some buttons. The trolley upon which I was lying, almost entirely unable to move, sprang into life and began to wheel itself out of the room.

“Surgical unit two” instructed Maitland.

“Dammit Butch, two is being decorated at the moment as part of you pastel shades morale exercise.”

“Of course. Such a shame you won't get the benefit of pastel colours during your operation. Medibots - surgical unit one.”

“I obey” cried the trolley as it hurtled off with me upon it. We came to an abrupt halt in what looked like a very sophisticated torture chamber. I saw Maitland’s point – a coat of paint would've improved the place no end. I didn't have long to reflect on this however as pincers and needles whirred into life and started moving towards me.

“Use the controls as best you can, Doctor Brent” advised Maitland

There was however very little I could do as almost immediately an implement began drilling into my paralysed left leg.

[Dirk Gently]

“Yes Captain” said the alleged Sensorite.

I'm not sure why but... That tickled me.

[Andrew Curnow]

Fingers tickled you, Tim...?

[Dirk Gently]

Indeed, Monitor, indeed.