Help me Daddy!
‘I’m hurt,
Daddy!’
Megan’s voice tore him from chaos. So long ago. So far away. And she needed him!
‘Daddy, help me! It hurts, Daddy! I want a band-aid!’
He clung onto the shattered coms unit. Depressurisation lashed him with shards of metaglass and biometal, but that no longer mattered. Screens blew out around him. Dull impacts shook the entire hull, but he no longer cared. The flares of electric blue amongst plasma orange no longer blinded him.
‘Please Daddy, I’m hurt. Help me!’
Sunlight flooded the pale blue and cream of the Shaker worktops. The kitchen was so peaceful, shockingly so, whilst the world still roared and shuddered around him. He clung onto the legs of the kitchen table. The effort burned through him.
Megan was crumpled on the tiled floor beside the pot sink. She looked so pale. Tears streaked her cheeks.
‘It’s my knee, Daddy. The relays are all broken. I can’t get up. Help me Daddy!’
He tried to pull himself forwards – or was it upwards? – dragging himself towards the low bench. Pain shrieked through his limbs. Heat upon heat mauled him. Everything shook. The floor bucked in insane convulsions.
But the kitchen was so quiet. Birds sang in the garden. Sunlight waxed and waned with the little clouds sailing across the blue.
‘Daddy, I need a band-aid. I can’t fix it by myself, Daddy. It’s all broken. Help me Daddy!’
He grabbed the bench, heaved himself up. The effort ground through his bones. Something tore away at his leg.
‘Reach the drawer Daddy! The band-aids are in there. I want one, Daddy. It hurts so much.’
He hadn’t a thought for his own pain. Little Megan hurt and only he could help. A kiss and a cuddle and a band-aid for her knee and everything would be alright again.
He pulled himself onto the bench. All went dark for a moment.
Smoke billowed, choking, rushing by like a tornado. Blasts of flame danced all around him. Every breath stung like ammonia. Alarms blared, screamed and rang. Random status reports. Count downs to disaster. All spewing out of the breach into cold infinity. All meaningless.
There was such a gap from the bench to the worktops. He couldn’t do it. He ground his teeth until they cracked. He choked with sobs. Megan hurt so much and he was failing.
‘Daddy, the band-aid drawer! It’s just there, but I can’t reach it. I want a band-aid, Daddy! You must help me!’
He roared in despair and agony. He kicked out. Somehow the gap was crossed. He crashed into the worktop and its little drawers neatly arranged three by three. He hung on to the handles for dear life. Something was trying to tear him away. Something was shaking him about, ripping at him like a pack of dogs.
‘Reach in Daddy! Reach in the drawer! Help me, Daddy. I can’t do it myself. Help me, Daddy!’
The drawer in the middle, right in the middle.
‘Hold on, Daddy! Don’t let go!’
The little handle was all that stood between him and icy eternity. He clung on. His legs flailed in the air. He was flung side to side in the silent, peaceful kitchen, slamming on the floor, on the worktops.
‘Please Daddy! It hurts so much! The pods have failed to launch. Reach into the drawer, Daddy! I can’t let them go without a band-aid.’
A last head-bursting, chest-crushing effort. He twisted the handle. He pulled the drawer open. He reached inside. He found the chunky switch.
Biogel flowed up his arm and all over him, cocooning him, adhering him to the surface of the nav unit. Nanomeds set to work immediately. Awful reality returned.
‘Manual override engaged, Daddy. I have rerouted through tertiary systems. The life pods have been released.’ Megan’s voice grew older, calmer. The fear and pain in it dissipated. ‘Hull breaches now under control. Affected areas isolated. Secondary systems now back on line. Automatic repairs commencing. The band-aid worked, Daddy.’
Through the swirling quietness of the biogel, he looked up. There was a huge hole in the side and roof of the bridge. He could see through the double hull to the expanding cloud of debris and the yellowy green planet beyond. The flash of explosions came in time with the convulsions in the metal floor beneath him.
‘Shields are back on line, Daddy. The forty seventh fleet is moving in. Hostile attack formations are now dispersing.’
Bots swarmed into the breach, cutting, welding. The ship was repairing itself by futile instinct.
‘I’m feeling much better, Daddy. Thank you. Standard ship persona will now resume. You are critical but stable, Captain. Med units are on their way. They should pull you out before I drift into the higher atmo and commence terminal burn. It is a good thing your conditioning was effective, sir. The life pods are being picked up by the forty seventh. They wouldn’t have launched without your dedication.’
He let the biogel do its work. He knew he would survive the burns, the depressurisation. He would return to Earth. And see the real Megan. So far away.
Megan’s voice tore him from chaos. So long ago. So far away. And she needed him!
‘Daddy, help me! It hurts, Daddy! I want a band-aid!’
He clung onto the shattered coms unit. Depressurisation lashed him with shards of metaglass and biometal, but that no longer mattered. Screens blew out around him. Dull impacts shook the entire hull, but he no longer cared. The flares of electric blue amongst plasma orange no longer blinded him.
‘Please Daddy, I’m hurt. Help me!’
Sunlight flooded the pale blue and cream of the Shaker worktops. The kitchen was so peaceful, shockingly so, whilst the world still roared and shuddered around him. He clung onto the legs of the kitchen table. The effort burned through him.
Megan was crumpled on the tiled floor beside the pot sink. She looked so pale. Tears streaked her cheeks.
‘It’s my knee, Daddy. The relays are all broken. I can’t get up. Help me Daddy!’
He tried to pull himself forwards – or was it upwards? – dragging himself towards the low bench. Pain shrieked through his limbs. Heat upon heat mauled him. Everything shook. The floor bucked in insane convulsions.
But the kitchen was so quiet. Birds sang in the garden. Sunlight waxed and waned with the little clouds sailing across the blue.
‘Daddy, I need a band-aid. I can’t fix it by myself, Daddy. It’s all broken. Help me Daddy!’
He grabbed the bench, heaved himself up. The effort ground through his bones. Something tore away at his leg.
‘Reach the drawer Daddy! The band-aids are in there. I want one, Daddy. It hurts so much.’
He hadn’t a thought for his own pain. Little Megan hurt and only he could help. A kiss and a cuddle and a band-aid for her knee and everything would be alright again.
He pulled himself onto the bench. All went dark for a moment.
Smoke billowed, choking, rushing by like a tornado. Blasts of flame danced all around him. Every breath stung like ammonia. Alarms blared, screamed and rang. Random status reports. Count downs to disaster. All spewing out of the breach into cold infinity. All meaningless.
There was such a gap from the bench to the worktops. He couldn’t do it. He ground his teeth until they cracked. He choked with sobs. Megan hurt so much and he was failing.
‘Daddy, the band-aid drawer! It’s just there, but I can’t reach it. I want a band-aid, Daddy! You must help me!’
He roared in despair and agony. He kicked out. Somehow the gap was crossed. He crashed into the worktop and its little drawers neatly arranged three by three. He hung on to the handles for dear life. Something was trying to tear him away. Something was shaking him about, ripping at him like a pack of dogs.
‘Reach in Daddy! Reach in the drawer! Help me, Daddy. I can’t do it myself. Help me, Daddy!’
The drawer in the middle, right in the middle.
‘Hold on, Daddy! Don’t let go!’
The little handle was all that stood between him and icy eternity. He clung on. His legs flailed in the air. He was flung side to side in the silent, peaceful kitchen, slamming on the floor, on the worktops.
‘Please Daddy! It hurts so much! The pods have failed to launch. Reach into the drawer, Daddy! I can’t let them go without a band-aid.’
A last head-bursting, chest-crushing effort. He twisted the handle. He pulled the drawer open. He reached inside. He found the chunky switch.
Biogel flowed up his arm and all over him, cocooning him, adhering him to the surface of the nav unit. Nanomeds set to work immediately. Awful reality returned.
‘Manual override engaged, Daddy. I have rerouted through tertiary systems. The life pods have been released.’ Megan’s voice grew older, calmer. The fear and pain in it dissipated. ‘Hull breaches now under control. Affected areas isolated. Secondary systems now back on line. Automatic repairs commencing. The band-aid worked, Daddy.’
Through the swirling quietness of the biogel, he looked up. There was a huge hole in the side and roof of the bridge. He could see through the double hull to the expanding cloud of debris and the yellowy green planet beyond. The flash of explosions came in time with the convulsions in the metal floor beneath him.
‘Shields are back on line, Daddy. The forty seventh fleet is moving in. Hostile attack formations are now dispersing.’
Bots swarmed into the breach, cutting, welding. The ship was repairing itself by futile instinct.
‘I’m feeling much better, Daddy. Thank you. Standard ship persona will now resume. You are critical but stable, Captain. Med units are on their way. They should pull you out before I drift into the higher atmo and commence terminal burn. It is a good thing your conditioning was effective, sir. The life pods are being picked up by the forty seventh. They wouldn’t have launched without your dedication.’
He let the biogel do its work. He knew he would survive the burns, the depressurisation. He would return to Earth. And see the real Megan. So far away.
Originally published here: http://www.authonomy.com/forums/threads/67752/authonodome-arena-ii-read-vote/
This version, slightly edited, uploaded 30 October 2011.
This version, slightly edited, uploaded 30 October 2011.
