The Time Tamperer (part 27)


So the search continued. Naturally, being the biggest disappointment of the team, Chaz Wassaloni led the way…

…back up the mountain, in the direction of where the Time Shard duplicate Museum of Future Technology stood, embedded in perma-ice…

Also naturally, the duplicate museum’s discoverer (and therefore ‘owner’), Buttox Barkingwell responded to a call from Cushions and duly popped outside to take a look for the crashed Deathwish…

Unfortunately she could only report the absence of debris, but suggested that the Mountain Rescue team take a look at a break in the nearby lake’s surface ice. So, before long, Cowpat Carlson found himself immersed in freezing water…

“I say,” he complained, “my bum has gone quite numb.”

But no one was listening; they knew that this was a long-shot that was bound to fall at the first hurdle. So, following a fruitless search with his tingling finger tips, Cowpat emerged into the wintry blast…

“Next time you can go in.” He snapped at Carlos. “That cold has left me desperate for a wee.”

“Carlos.” Heyho interrupted the rightfully aggrieved redhead, “that’s it; we’re done. I think you’d better put in that video call to the curators.”

Carlos wasn’t keen, but when he spotted Ena looking skyward and pretending to be somewhere else, he knew he had to bite the bullet and make that report. So, a few minutes after descending to a slightly warmer level, the team put through the call they least wanted to make. Cushions and several other curators awaited it with little expectation…

But before long, a trepidatious Carlos pressed the ‘Transmit’ button and the curators saw and heard: “Carlos Minehunter reporting.” Carlos said as boldly as he dared…

…”but we can state categorically that, contrary to all logic, no parts of the Deathwish landed here. If someone screwed up, it wasn’t us.”

This was much as Cushions had anticipated; so it was a very surprised Mountain Rescue team…

…who stared in horror as their transport ship flew away on remote control…

“You’re a mountain rescue team.” Cushions’ last words still echoed in their ears. “Guess you’ll have to rescue yourselves.”

“Oh cripes.” Buttox Barkingwell moaned as she stood, a short distance away, looking out of her least favourite window…

…”more refugees on the way. Zak: Bolah:” She called out. “Switch on the homing beacon and dig out five more bed rolls, will you? I think we’ll be having visitors before very long.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

 

 

 

 

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