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Adventures into Space
The exploits of Captain "Butch" Maitland and co.

Star Date : The 28th Century

It was with a mixture of fear and trepidation that we found the atomic room amidst the strange, gigantic world in which we – the pin-sized crew of the SS Pioneer – were wandering. My heart sank when I looked up and saw that it was being guarded by a fearsome Monsterdon soldier.

"We must be very quiet" I said in a whisper.

"What?" shouted the man John from some distance away. He was lagging behind in Party B, watching our rears for sneak attacks.

"Don’t shout" I told him.

"What?" he shouted again.

"Come here and be quiet" I warned.

"I’ll come over there – you’re too quiet."

John scuttled over with Fingers and William, Son of Doctor Who.

"Dammit, Butch, what was all that hushed tones nonsense? I’m a mineralogist not an ear trumpet. I’ve spent countless hours in countless mines having some of the biggest machines in the galaxy process ore at an alarming volume. I’m a bit deaf when push comes to shove and I don’t mind admitting it."

"You didn’t mention it on your INNER application form" I said truthfully.

"I should say I don’t mind admitting it when I absolutely have no alternative but to freely admit it. Some of those machines were huge and immensely powerful." He winked at Penny when he said "huge" and again at "immensely powerful". Unfortunately they were too close together and any base innuendo he was hoping to draw out of the winks was lost beneath what appeared to be a sinister and disturbing twitch.

"I said that we should be quiet when sneaking past the Monsterdon soldier who is guarding the atomic room" I repeated. I was this close to calling a formal staff meeting to explain my plan. Normally I’m a pretty informal kind of guy but the channels of communication were feeling stretched and we were only one or two steps away from the sort of anarchy that leads to endless round robin telememos and a very muddled message.

"I quite disagree" said William, Son of Doctor Who. "Yes I do. Most certainly. This Monsterdon fellow is far to big to hear us, no matter how much noise we may decide to make. We could herd elephants through his legs and – assuming the elephants were also the size of pins and not simply normal sized elephants that had particularly acute hearing and could make out our commands – he would be none the wiser."

I shuddered at the thought of having a herd of elephants between my legs and not being any the wiser. It was a disturbing but logical picture he painted.

"Dammit, Butch, is the young fellow saying I could stroll between that Monsterdon’s feet, singing one of my favourite pieces of classical music such as the Beatles or Elvis Presley who are over eight hundred years old and therefore no different to us in the twenty eighth century to Mozart or Beethoven, and the tall fellow wouldn’t have any idea I was there?"

"That’s exactly what I’m saying. Yes – exactly what I’m saying" beamed William, clutching the lapels of his silver jumpsuit and smiling through a face that was both old and young all at the same time.

"I don’t believe you" said John, puncturing the mood like a digital needle such as we might use to mend an exhibit in a clothes museum that is incapable of repairing itself because it isn’t made of a modern fabric.

"Try it, my boy, try it" urged William.

"I don’t think I will" hummed John.

"Go on – you’ll be fine" added Penny.

"OK" agreed John. "I’ll risk danger for you… my loyal ship mates… and the young fellow in the shiny space suit. Any requests?"

And that was how the man John came to stroll, quite anxiously at first but soon finding his rhythm, through the legs of a giant reptile, singing Elvis Presley’s second symphony in E Major.

"This is great" he shouted during an instrumental bit. "Come on in – the water’s lovely."

We followed him – giddy at the thought that we were so effortlessly defeating our Monsterdon foes. I’m normally a fairly formal person during office hours but even I joined in at one point.

"Am I lonesome… tonight" I sang.

"Don’t do that, Butch, you’re spoiling it" replied John. I did as I was told and stuck to trying to clap along to John’s unique and entertaining performance. When he was done, we gave him a generous round of applause. We feared for a moment that this time we’d gone a little too far as the Monsterdon moved his foot slightly but it must’ve been an itch (if reptiles have itches) or something else (if they don’t or if they do and this wasn’t one). I immediately proposed that we set up an SS Pioneer music and entertainment committee to put on quarterly shows for the crew and I got some modest support. There is, I suppose, a time and a place for everything.

With fun out of the way, we entered the atomic room to consider our next course of action.

"Do you know how to start the atomic meltdown?" I asked.

"Hmm? Of course I do" snapped William, Son of Doctor Who. "With my young friend here" – he put a brotherly arm round Fingers – "and my trusty delta wave conducting spanner, we’ll have this reactor in meltdown before you can say that you aren’t anything as much as you are a hound dog." He chuckled at his joke and we joined in. It was rather funny under the circumstances of John’s recent performance. I only hope that John’s use of previously copyrighted music won’t in any way prevent this log from being played in the future (or in the past were the Pioneer to travel backwards in time).

William switched on his delta wave conducting spanner (or at least that’s what I assume it was – to me it was just another torch shaped gadget from his utility belt) and pointed to a clump of giant wires behind a grill.

"Is this the warp relay circuit?" he asked. Fingers nodded. "Then this is where I start creating the meltdown that will either save us… or destroy us."

I crossed my fingers.