Alex

ALEX

STASIS

Alex opened his eyes, fuggy headed. “I really hate stasis” he muttered to himself. You weren't supposed to feel any ill effects from the time field, but he always did. Spells in stasis always left him feeling like he had The Hangover From Hell, and Alex knew a thing or two about Hangovers From Hell. He sighed and pushed at the door's release mechanism. Nothing happened. “Okay.” He tried again to no avail.
“Holly?”
No answer came.
He clicked his neck and tried to ignore the anger he felt rising in his gut.
“HOLLY?”
Hang on - how had time unfrozen and yet the door remained closed?
He shivered and automatically patted his top pocket, looking for a smoke but there was nothing but a pen. Someone had taken his cigs! He'd kill 'em.
The silence was suddenly stifling and the rage grew. “HOLLY, LET ME OUT OF HERE!” He smacked the heavy door with his palms and battered the window but he may as well have been spanking an ocean liner. At least an ocean liner would be outside. Not inside. In. Side. Inside this tiny, airless (or so it was beginning to feel) timeless room. That was a point - time. What if there'd been a malfunction? Perhaps he'd been accidentally roused, while the rest of the crew were still safely paused in time! Perhaps Holly was offline. The rage, and now a surge of panic, threatened to overwhelm him. He hammered on the door again. Still nothing.
“Mother SMEGGER!” He spat.
He pushed the rage into a mental compartment labelled “Later” and felt in his pockets for possible escape tools. There was a Ship Issue APK (All Purpose Knife), two Polo mints, a keycard and some lint. He sucked one of the Polos and eyed the rubbish “knife”. Just as he was concocting an impossible plan involving the APK's tiny nail file, the door's hinges and Polo-spit lubricant, the door hissed open,
“Oh, thank Gods!” He stepped cautiously through the door and snapped his head to the left in time to see... something... scampering off. An odd shadow played across the wall for a second and an unsettling noise made him momentarily nauseous. He took in his surroundings, squinting in the semi-darkness, wondering what on Titan was going on. The other booth doors were open...

“Holy....” The floor was covered in bodies, bones and slime. It was like a scene from his battle days.
He popped the second Polo in his mouth. It was going to be a long night. Or day. Or whatever the when it was.

--

THE VERMIN AND THE SIMULANTS

The past three hours had been spent creeping around seventeen or so of Blue Dwarf's familiar, yet horrifically altered, corridors. Alex was peed off. He didn't like slime. The only slime he enjoyed was the Swarfiga he used to clean his hands after his pleasant Skutter maintenance duties. He'd sought a couple of skutters out, hoping they might sign to him and provide a clue into the new, gory Dwarf. He'd only made contact with one, which was wearing a small cowboy hat. It had ignored his hissed demands and had the gall to pinch him and whirr off! Worse than the threat of feral Skutters were the weird lizardy things he'd observed while crawling through an airduct. He'd peeked out and seen human-shaped lizards dragging dead bodies to... who knew where. Hence the decision to creep.
Human shaped lizards? Vicious Skutters? What kind of madness was this?

Suddenly he heard bazookoid fire. He reasoned this probably meant other people and that he should probably head towards it. They may have information, and more importantly, a smoke.

He skidded towards the promenade. He hadn't meant to skid but there was quite a lot of round brown, pellety stuff, underfoot. He walked through the door to be greeted by a herd of oversized furry creatures.

“AAAAAARGH!” He man-screamed in shock, as they bundled up to and crowded around him.
“Eeeeeeee” They squeaked.
“Fle-shy whone. You... must healp!” Said one of them in halting English.
Alex grimaced.
“I hate gerbils.”
“I am weasel”
“Whatever. Get the hell off my leg.”
“I sorry. Hump when scare. Come with. Our... Chutney in dangers”
“Look, I'm sorry if you're having problems with your larder but I've got bigger things to worry about.”
“Other Fleshy ones...”
“Yes. Other... Fleshy ones.”
“They too. Come come.” It beckoned with a paw.
“You're sayin' the bazookoid fire came from this way? The humans are this way?”
“Bam Bam Ba Ba Bam Bam!” Chorused the animals, in affirmation
A particularly aesthetically pleasing otter nudged him on the arm.

“Yeah I'm comin'.”

---

They led him through the streets and halted in an alley.
“Look, Flesh.” Said Weasel.

Alex looked. In a central square there was a statue of a morbidly obese ferret with a rather attractive lady bound to it. A man in a shopping trolley was shouting “Now this is really not on. Not at all. Do you know who I am?” A rugged man was clearly trying to shush him, but he was somewhat hindered by the studded ball gag in his mouth and the handcuffs which were cutting so deeply into his wrists that blood was beginning to seep.

“Eurgh. What's this? Some kind of deranged orgy?”
Ottiver the otter squeaked sadly and pointed. Alex followed his paw and there, across the square, was a very large and very fat ferret, revolving on a spit. Several simulants sat nearby, leering and bickering among themselves.

“It's worse than I thought.” Alex whispered.
“Know. Reelise now metal man not fleshy ones.” Replied Weasel.
“No, I mean I REALLY hate ferrets. And now there's two.”
“I not...?”
Alex looked into the animal's large brown eyes and suddenly, despite his aversion to rodents, felt pity for it. He glanced around at the assembled creatures and a pang of sorrow played through his being as he recalled his daughter's pet sugar gliders. The possums had been the bane of his life for two years but now he'd give anything to be back there, being kept up all night by their chittering, squabbling and biting. The corner of his mouth twitched as he recalled how one especially, liked to glide and land on his head while he was in his workshop. GLIDE!

“Are there any sugar gliders here? You know, uh, 'Flying Ones'?”
A couple of striped creatures stepped forward. Alex smiled, for the first time in three million years.

“Okay, here's what we're gonna do...”

------

THE RESCUE

Alex and twenty Vermin crouched on the roofs of the huts which surrounded the square. One of the simulants was prodding the obese ferret, who Alex now realised was the one they called Chutney, with a stick. Another was drooling over the woman, who scowled at him. The third was guarding the rugged man and the guy in the trolley. The trolley guy was sleeping. That or he'd been drugged - which would explain some of his earlier ranting.

“Right. Possums... GO!”

On his signal, three gliding possums flew from the roof, holding blankets in their pink paws. They swiftly deposited the blankets over the surprised simulants. A blanket isn't much protection against a simulant but it bought time for the badgers to charge. Five sturdy badgers barrelled into the square with field mouse riders. Two mice scurried up the statue and freed the woman. As he watched, Alex dimly noted that he recognised her from somewhere but he couldn't place where. He gave a whistle and chipmunks leaped onto the blanket-covered simulants, disorienting them further. Two of the mice deftly released poor Chutney and loaded him across the back of two badgers, who immediately charged away and out of sight. The remaining mouse and badger released the two men. The strange one, still sleeping, was carried away by a cantering badger and the rugged one grabbed the woman by the hand and they ran. A simulant broke free, roaring in rage. The assembled woodland creatures were suddenly nowhere to be seen.

Alex slid down from the roof, hissing. “That's my cue. Wish me luck!”
Ottiver and Weasel nodded.

“OI! Dog food features!” Called Alex. “Over here!”
The raging simulants all turned to face him. He swallowed hard. What on Io was he doing? Still, no turning back now.

“Come on then, boys!” He grinned and legged it out of the square, simulants in hot pursuit.

The rest of his Vermin army threw stones at the simulants but it didn't deter them. They pounded after Alex and out of the promenade. One unfortunate bunny was sadly trampled in the fracas. He'd not been well and had no idea about the day's drama. He was simply out looking for buttercups for his salad. There'd be no buttercups for Thudward.

--

Cass, Jay and Seymour peered from the street they'd been guided to.

“Who was that?” Said Cass.
“I've no idea.” Said Jay, rubbing his sore wrists. “I'm glad to get those cuffs off though.”
“Hmm...” Replied Cass, enigmatically, quirking a brow.
“How's he going to survive with three simulants after him?” Said Jay, wondering what the quirk meant.
“I really don't know” said Seymour, yawning. “But one thing's for sure. He's clearly bonkers.”

---

<Hope I did it right. Sorry it's a bit long!>