And a Jet + Ford Shaggy Dog
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Quote:Aboard a Green Ford truck, somewhere out in the vastness of interplanetary space, two partners were having an argument. It kept one passenger’s mind of the oppressive smallness of the F-250’s cab, and one drivers mind off the infinite vastness of space.________________________________
“I knew it!” Ford said, triumphantly, “I freaking knew it,”
“Well don’t tell anyone,” Jet looked at her, a little ashamed.
“I won’t.... on one condition,” she purred, leaning over to whisper something in the cyborg’s ear.
“No!” Jet yelped. “Not a chance in hell!”
“Oh come on” Sierra glared, “Where’s your sense of fun?”
Jet looked sullen, “It’s not fun it’s just....”
“The cyborg who walks around naked all day would be embarrassed?”
Hammer. Nail. Head.
“I have nothing to hide,” Jet pointed out, knocking on her pelvis. The wave-ceramic tak-tak’d sharply as she rapped her knuckles against it. Nothing but solid handwavium, ceramic and metal all the way through. “And the last time I tried to wear clothes sorta went South when my airspeed went North,”
Looked stupid too. Sierra glared at her, brown eyes penetrating deep.
“Look, I’m trying to learn from other people’s mistakes here,” Jet explained, looking for any straw to clutch, followed by a much softer. “Besides, it’d be my first time,”
Brown eyes... glaring. “But in the jet wash.... that gave me chills it was so good,”
“Alright...” Jet gave an exasperated sigh, “I’ll enter the bloody karaoke competition.”
“Don’t act like it’s a death sentence.”
“There’re worse fates out there than death,” Jet said with ominous certainty.
“Singing in front of a bunch of con-goers isn’t one of them....trust me, you won’t be laughed at.”
“I don’t mean being laughed at. I mean...”
'Bong!' went the dashboard interrupting the cyber.. Both of them stopped talking. Sierra inspected her gauges. A little red can was lit up.
“Hmm... low oil pressure,” she said, appearing more surprised than concerned. “Dammit,” She reached over and turned the ignition off, intending to bring the truck to an emergency stop.
click. The lights on the dashboard died. The engine kept running. the space-going truck ploughing forward at a notable fraction of c.
“Shit,” she said, calmly. “We got a runaway,”
All those old Toyota jokes suddenly seemed a lot less funny as she stamped down hard on the brakes.
“Runaway?” Jet looked at her.
“Yup,” she grunted, pushing harder on the pedal. Jet braced herself against the dashboard for the stop. The rev’s dropped, speedometer going below .08c . The engine kept on running. “Well shit.”
Clutch in. Brake on. Let the thing rev itself to death.
The engine howled through it’s redline, belching clouds of dirty soot as the truck ground to an effective halt. Gearbox in neutral, handbrake on.... and sit there and wait.
And wait....
Wait some more.
First, came a ticking. Then came a knocking. Then came a screech and lurch under the bonnet, shocking the truck’s frame. The final bang was more a a pop, followed by the rattle of liberated engine parts hitting the metal inside. A few whisps of oilsmoke filtered through the vents before Sierra switched over to the emergency airtanks.
“Dead?” Jet asked.
“As a doornail.”Sierra grimaced “Turbo seal blew. And that dent on the hood’s probably a piston gone through the head.” She caressed the dashboard as if it is was a lost pet. “Poor thing didn’t deserve to die like this.” Deep breath. “Truck’s broke down. Got 2 hours of air left, and we’re halfway to the middle of nowhere. As aunt Rally used to say. This sucks!”
She picked up her CB radio, and started to dial in the emergency frequency.
Jet looked out the window, then at her own feet in the space where the front seat used to be, then at Sierra’s emergency pressure suit stowed on the rear passenger seat beside her, then to the towing hitch out back.
Jet grinned at her partner. “Maybe I should get out and push?”
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?