Enter at Your Own Risk!

By Timothy R. Bartlett

Timothy has struck again! This time he offers over 50 short stories, of various lengths, to entertain his readers on a roller coaster ride of imagination. The tales within are from Westerns to Fantasies and beyond. All ages are invited to take a step forward into this realm of the minds eye, explore past the Forest Tree Doorway. Come on in - if you dare!! But remember: youre entering at your own risk!!!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524688479

Timothy R. Bartlett

Timothy R. Bartlett of Yorkton, Saskatchewan, Canada is back again! He’s been busy conjuring up new tales to titillate your imagination and senses. He dares you to enter his wild collection of Tree Tales he’s prepared for you! Any takers???

Book preview

ENTER AT

YOUR OWN

RISK!

TIMOTHY R. BARTLETT

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2017 Timothy R. Bartlett. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/11/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5246-8848-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-8847-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Short Story Titles & Page Numbers

One Thrilling Morning!

Need to Fly High

Rebel Retribution

A School Outing

The Question!

Can’t You See?

(Two alternate endings)

Bon Voyage

Like the Sands of Time

(Part 1 of 2)

No - Don’t!

Never Say Goodbye!

A Fantastic Delicacy!

The Trap

Genius by Design

Comeuppance Day!

Bonus Feature #1

A Soldier’s Misery

The Blue Bottle Gang

It’s Downstairs

Service with a Smile

(Part 2 of 2)

It’s My Miracle!

This is My Place

Purrfect Supporters

View Finder

Toy-men-a-tors

Final Exam

Choose: Pins? Or Needles?

Hawk’s Tribute

The Reddish Dots

Bonus Feature #2

The Rider’s Revenge

Bejewelled

On the Job

Original story-line & concept by Mildred Bartlett

A Harlequin Romance

Guilty as Charged!

Here We Go Again!

From the Lair’s View

Watch the Birdy

Nice Day for a Climb

Oh, So Sweet!

Starting a Routine

Through a Child’s Eyes!

Unbearable!

Bonus Feature #3

Criminals - Beware!

Oops — Sorry!

Forest of No Return

It Pays to Pray!

Firmly Nailed Down

A Shadowy Vacation

Getting Even

The Illusion

A Prairie Homestead

A Were-Human’s Society

My Shadowy Walkabout

The Harvest Moon Shindigs

The Grave Host

The Oddities

Cabin of Tails

Bonus Feature #4

A Baking Lesson

True Story shared by Mildred Bartlett

Case #78176.4

Extra Special Feature

Appendix A

Other book titles written by the same author:

The Game Master Trilogy:

Book 1 – The Games People Play © April 2014

Book 2 – The Cryptic Will © March 2015

(Featured in BOOKMAD Magazine, March 2016 issue)

Book 3 – The Circular Motion © November 2015

(Featured in BOOKMAD Magazine, November 2016 issue)

Enter at Your Own Risk! © April 2017

(Featured in BOOKMAD Magazine, November 2017 issue)

Disclaimer

Each of the characters portrayed in these fictitious short narratives are purely co-incidental and are not representative of anyone (alive or deceased) individually or as a group.

They are all complete works of fiction and the creation of the writer’s imagination!

Try not to take any these short stories personally!

Remember: They are designed for entertainment purposes only and to be read aloud to others!

Warning

Some bad language and disturbing settings are used in a few of these short stories.

This author apologizes ahead of time for any offence this may cause any of his sensitive readers. He hopes that these booklovers understand such wording in the context of each tale as it is presented.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to share my thanks and acknowledge to all my family members and relatives (who are still living), friends, fellow book worms, and coworkers over the years, who continued to support my creative writing and reach my goal!

Thank you all for your encouragement to keep going and for not letting me slack off! Kicking me in the butt a few times gave me (a sore backend and) the needed energy to complete this trying album of mixed adventures!

Email Book Ratings

and Comments to

Comments from readers on my novels, these short adventures and book ratings can be emailed to the author at the following email address: [e-mail]!

Please use the English Language when sending your email(s) to me, thank you!

Book Ratings are based on increments of (0.25); therefore, you can say a book is 4.25 out of 5 stars. Worst book rating is Zero (0) and the Best book rating is Five (5) Stars. Due to my large quantities of emails sent to me, I’ll contact you as soon as I can.

My three novels along with this publication can be ordered through the following websites provided: http://www.thegamemastertrilogy.com/ or you can ask for them through: http://www.authorhouse.com. Request the book titles to get price listings of all three novels and short story collection by typing the following in the book search engine:

The Game Master Trilogy or Enter at Your Own Risk!

Please don’t be shy!

Contact me anytime by email (as indicated above)!

Thank you, again - everyone!

Author’s Quick Notes

Welcome readers of all ages!

There is a vast and infinite universe for us humans to explore. In this case; let’s referred to it as human imagination.

Almost anything can and does take place within the realm of this fantasy of the mind’s eye; we love to run away from our world of insanity for a few fun moments of the unreal or the unusual. The amusement rides you’re about to take hopefully sends you to new realms of adventure, love, intrigue, mystery, or flights of fancy.

I hope all of you … booklovers throughout the world enjoy reading, or listening to animated story tellers like I do!

Such movies within our mind’s eye adds that little bit of spice to our extremely hectic lives we live.

So, sit down, relax, put your feet up and take a break! Allow yourselves the leisure time for pleasure of a new exciting journey.

This album of 56 short stories you're about to embark on were written by this author (unless another author’s name is included under the title of that narrative). Flipping through these pages, you’ll find a woven tapestry of various short tales to entertain you.

Please - feel free to read them aloud, at your own pace and speed, before your family, friends, classmates, or co-workers.

Read them around picnics, campfires or while travelling between long distant destinations.

Wherever possible, seek ways to add to the legend by including sound effects or soft background music as you read the narrative.

Also, try adding feelings and emotions to the character’s words within each story line that have double quotation marks. (Italicised words or ‘single quotation marks’ around words convey a character’s thoughts, descriptions or some extra tidbit of information. At these moments, you can use a different voice tone or voice altogether while reading the narrative.)

Go ahead and make the story-lines come alive!

Feel the experiences within the narrative as if you were there, in person!

Enjoy these wild treks through the minute corners of the mind’s eye universe, by exploiting all kinds of possibilities hidden within your own border-less imagination!

Are - you - ready?

Then let’s get the forest tree librarian to unlock the forest tree door so our adventurous tales will commence!

TRB – 2017!

Other Book Titles:

Disclaimer

Warning

Acknowledgements

Email Book Ratings and Comments

Author’s Quick Notes!

Short Story Titles & Page Numbers

Appendix A

One Thrilling Morning!

Melvin woke up as he always did, during the month of April, to go to work early. His clock registered 4:30 am. He had to be at the accounting office and go over the accuracy of the firm’s books before the tax deadline of April 30th. Tax time always kept everyone hopping and agitated. Melvin was no exception to this insanity.

Priming up his coffee machine for the brain-stimulating brew to come, Melvin stripped off his sleepwear, headed for the shower to increase the removal of the cobwebs strewn throughout his brain cavity. As the water cascaded over his slim and defined body, he slowly and methodically went over his agenda for the day. He was due to be at work by 6:30 am. So, he had to leave home by 5:40 am to catch the 6 am subway train.

After his refreshing shower, he went to retrieve the local paper outside his third-floor apartment door. Most mornings the paper was waiting for him to pick it up and read. As he opened the door, he saw that nothing was there.

‘Damn that Mrs. Logan! She stole it again,’ he thought to himself, ‘I wish she would stop stealing my paper for those damn crossword puzzles. Can’t she get her own paper, instead of stealing someone else’? Oh, well, I might as well get another one on my way to the subway station.’

Breakfast was simple; toast, two eggs, and a bacon slice, all washed down with two cups of coffee. ‘What a simple meal!’

Melvin dressed in a new suit, which he purchased the week before. He couldn’t wait to show it off to Ralph, the company desk clerk. Ralph always accused Melvin of wearing second hand clothes and never having enough money for a new suit. ‘This will show him,’ he thought to himself while checking his reflection in the hall mirror. Then grabbing his briefcase, he locked his apartment door for the 20-minute walk to the subway station.

Every time Melvin walked these streets to go to work, he was always presented with various weather conditions and beautiful manicured yards. It was a treat on this morning for a walk. The sun was starting to rise, while birds sang, crickets chirped and squirrels quarrelled with neighbouring squirrels over their territory boundaries.

After 7 minutes of walking, Melvin reached the corner of Harvey Street and Second Avenue. Turning right, he headed for the subway entrance just beyond his vision.

This day, compared to others, was a day that gave the impression of going askew. Melvin didn’t notice the differences at first. Everything appeared to be as it should be! So, he continued walking down the street when his body began to give off the first signals of danger.

In the beginning the hair at the back of his neck stood straight out. Then a tingling feeling of anxiety enveloped him from head to foot.

The birds, crickets and squirrels went suddenly silent!

‘This is weird,’ he thought as he continued down the sidewalk.

After 5 minutes, more, he finally heard an unusual sound of someone following him.

Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click.

Appearing to be a little nerved, Melvin decided to quicken his pace. The sound behind him also sped up.

Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click.

He stopped.

The sound also stopped.

Silence!

Everywhere was silent!

Looking over his right shoulder, Melvin at first saw nothing out of place. ‘That’s odd,’ he declared to himself. Making a thorough sweep with his eyes, he still spotted nothing - until … a shadowy cloaked figure, half hidden behind a fenced yard, moved ever so slightly; like a piece of torn cloth waving gently in a breeze; causing it to shift momentarily. Melvin’s heart jump-started from its calm disposition into an adrenaline rush. Fear gripped him in a strangle hold and sent him spinning around into a full panicking run. Behind him the figure began to follow at a similar pace.

Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click.

Glancing back, Melvin noted that the hooded figure stood about 7 feet¹ tall and ran on what looked like four hairy, narrow, spindly, spider-like legs. It seemed to run in an awkward trot-like fashion and progressively loosing distance the more he ran on.

Looking ahead, Melvin knew he would make the subway tunnel within 3 more minutes.

That’s when the silence took over a second time.

Looking back again, the shadowy figure was gone. Melvin slowed down and then stopped. While breathing heavy, beads of perspiration began forming on his forehead; he scanned the avenue both ways and saw nothing. As for his body, the klaxon sirens raged, increasing the intensity of their warning signals to keep moving forward.

Melvin didn’t take any chances, he bee-lined straight towards the subway tunnel when he was struck on his right ear by a whooshing sound. The force of the wind sent him tumbling to the ground, putting a few tears in his new suit, while a searing hot pain came from his right ear lobe. Staggering onto his feet, he felt his right ear and found dark blood trickling down his fingers. He must continue the last two-minutes of the run, to the top of the subway staircase entrance, opposite his approach.

Without regard for his personal safety, Melvin gripped the upper hand railing and swung his whole body over the railing, to the stairs below. As he did this feat, a second whooshing sound flew across the spot he was last at. When his feet touched the stairs, Melvin lost his balance and tumbled in circular summersaults to the landing below.

Dizzy from the somersaulting, he got up as quickly as possible, only to realize he twisted his left ankle. ‘Got … to … keep … moving,’ he coached himself onward. He breathed heavily, sweated profusely, and hobbled painfully forward down the next set of stairs to the locked gate system ahead.

Behind him and coming slowly down the stairwell was that irritating sound again, echoing off the tiled walls, with a wobble to it; clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click.

This locked gate system was a combination of bars, rotating grated doors, coin activation machines and a counter unit, which kept track of people using this service. The bars and doors filled the height of the whole hallway and anchored into the concrete floors and walls. Throwing what lose change he had in his pocket into the coin collector, Melvin made it through the locked gate and sprinted hopefully to the safety beyond. Not wanting to hang around to see what continued to pursue him; he headed towards the subway platform on the next lower level below. Upon his arrival to this area, he was still trying to catch his breath.

That’s when he heard the high-pitched shrieking laughter of the shadowy figure; as it rattled the iron bars violently, indicating its desire to continue its pursuit but was halted. The creature was angered it couldn’t reach its prey. The reinforced iron bars and gates held it back.

Finding a bench to sit on, Melvin shook violently at his bizarre experience. ‘Who or what is that? Why is it following me? What’s going on?’ his mind queried.

Seeing the men’s washroom, he entered it to freshen up, stop his bleeding ear, clean his blood-stained shirt collar and calm down his racing heart.

Melvin left the washroom twenty-seven minutes later. He stood halfway from the platform edge, waiting for the subway train to arrive. It was going to be there any minute and hopefully provide the escape he needed.

Then he heard that irritating sound again: clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click.

‘Oh no; not again! How the hell did it get in here?’

Turning around, Melvin faced the shadowy figure, not 20 feet away from his position. It was cloaked in a hooded monk outfit with tattered, ragged edges hanging off and around its’ four legs. The hood was pulled up over its head obscuring most of its face. He could not see any facial features, just two long exposed green scaly arms and gnarled bony hands, with 5-inch black razor sharp claws. Off the left claw, two of the nails had dried dark, red blood.

Melvin’s heart raced into super high gear. But his body froze in place, unmoving, in morbid terror.

The creature sensing Melvin’s hesitation crouched down on all four hairy legs and sprang forward the 20 feet, shrieking with shrilled terrifying laughter. It knocked Melvin off his feet and onto his back. Both slid across the newly waxed floor, eventually coming to a stop with Melvin’s head, neck and part of his shoulders hung off the platform’s edge.

Melvin’s only instinct now was to fight back if he could, so he struggled with the creature’s firm scaly vice-like grip. The hooded creature never let go. A fifteen-inch black and red spotted, forked tongue slithered across Melvin’s face, tasting its prey. Its rough texture left a disgusting, slimy film behind, while purple irises glowed through black reptilian iris slits. The creatures breathe resonated a vile odour that made Melvin’s stomach churn violently. He almost lost his breakfast right there and then.

It was now, that bright lights filled the entire terminal. The creature and Melvin both simultaneously stared up at the on-rushing subway train, whose screeching brakes indicated a stopping at that platform location.

Leaping off its prey at the last second, the creature let go of Melvin and vanished with its high-pitched shrieking laughter.

Melvin cringed in terror, his sea blue eyes wide open like dinner plates at his own impending death; he didn’t realize the creature had let go of him. Unable to move from his spot, he screamed audibly, only to have the screeching brake sounds of metal against metal drown out his cries and …

Screaming loudly and sitting bolt upright in bed, Melvin’s alarm clock jolted him awake. Sweat streamed from every inch of his body, saturating his pyjamas and bedding with perspiration. For a few seconds, he was uncertain as to where he was or what was going on. When the cobwebs vanished completely from his traumatized grey cells, he realized he awoke from a major nightmare and was still in his bed. Slowly relaxing all his tense muscles and calming down his nerves at the same time, Melvin shook his head and began chuckling to himself.

Well, I guess it’s time to get up! he stated to himself.

Priming up his coffee machine for the brain-stimulating brew to come, Melvin stripped off his wet, sticky sleepwear and headed for the shower. Before his refreshing shower, he went to retrieve the local paper outside his apartment door. Most mornings it was waiting for him to pick it up; with the few exceptions when Mrs. Logan stole it from him.

As he opened the door, there it was.

‘Ah, Mrs. Logan didn’t snatch it this time!’

Closing his apartment door, he went to the dining room table to leave the newspaper there. He barely paid much attention to the title of the cover story and returned to the bathroom. The main cover story was titled: Bizarre Creature Terrorizes Our Beloved City - Some People Have Died of Fright! The subtitle below the main heading read: Unidentifiable Creature Attacks People without Due Cause.

Just to be sure he checked to see how much damage was caused to his new suit. Upon opening the closet doors, he could see it was still inside the men’s store bag sitting on the closet shelf. Looking inside, he found no damage to it at all!

Strange, he thought to himself. Shrugging his shoulders in confusion, he returned the bag to the shelf, closed the closet door and went for his wash - puzzled.

As the water cascaded over his reddish hair turning it a darker shade, he slowly and methodically went over his agenda for the entire day. He was due to be at work by 6:30 am and he had to leave. . .

Then a date flashed past his mind’s eye as he saw it on the newspaper. Of course, he exclaimed aloud. The newspaper was a Sunday Edition. ‘Right on! I don’t have to work today!’

After his shower and wrapping his lean body in a long, dark bathrobe, Melvin opened the dining room window a half-inch, to get some spring fresh air circulating into his apartment. He decided to make a larger breakfast for himself this fine morning and read his paper leisurely.

The front page sent chills down his spine. It described how 19 people had been attacked in the past two weeks. Three of those people died of heart failure while in bed!

Those attacks were done in a similar manner like my nightmare, Melvin said to himself.

Shrugging off the ripples of fear running along his spine, Melvin opened his paper and read the other pages instead. He sat down at the kitchen table to eat one slice of toast, some hash browns, three pieces of bacon, and two eggs – over easy. Everything was finally washed down with one cup of coffee.

‘What a superb breakfast!’

As half an hour past, sipping on his next cup of coffee leisurely, Melvin continued to read his Sunday Edition. He almost missed the strange sound echoing throughout the street and alleyway walls below. When his brain finally registered to his ears to listen, his head shot up from his paper. Starting unhurriedly and then progressing rapidly, the fear returned and rippled constantly throughout his entire body for the third time that morning.

Then the shaking began, his sea blue eyes widening, sweat streaming down his forehead. His bladder emptied itself onto his robe, the chair, and the floor. He thought, ‘No! This can’t be happening! Not Again!’

Getting up, Melvin headed over to the windowsill. Opening the window wider, he leaned out to examine both sides of the street. From three stories, up, he saw nothing. Not a single soul. Not even a shadow was moving during this twilight period.

All that he heard was that terrifying, high-pitched shrieking laughter, reverberating throughout the streets and alleyways. The laughter was accompanied with that ominous sound of …

Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click!

Need to Fly High

All of us have gone through this kind of training at one time or another. We start off with a lack of confidence and fear of displeasing our parents by means of failure. The training we receive sometimes comes from one or both of our parents. Depending on one’s family, there are times when even the older siblings teach the younger one’s things to assist them through life. No matter where or from whom such education derives from, we can and do eventually conquer our fear of failure on those occasions.

Holding the back of the seat by the young lad’s side, the boy’s dad continued to encourage his five-year-old son on the successful techniques needed for success.

Almost holding his breath, the lad was ready for this challenge again. He had failed before and had the scraping marks on his knees and arms to prove it. As if giving a nod of approval, by breathing out a puff of air, he placed his foot on the left, hard, black rubberized platform and pushed it downwards.

The father lightly jogged beside his son, continuing to encourage him. The dad kept saying he was a big boy now and could do the task at hand.

As the boy tried hard to keep his balance, he worked his right and then left platforms diligently. His excitement and enthusiastically beating heart, pounded with anticipation of a possible victory. He worked laboriously at controlling the wobbly, thick wheels and metallic frame. He yearned to not fall over and disappoint his dad again like the last three tries.

‘I know I can do this,’ the boy thought.

After 10 feet or so, the dad, unknown to his son, let go, and continued to encourage his boy. He bellowed out to his son that he could do this, now that he was a big boy.

The son continued to pump with his small legs, trying more diligently to keep his balance.

‘I will do this,’ he encouraged himself.

Then, the magic as if on cue, took place.

First, all parts of the machine he rode, stopped wobbling. The boy sensed the beginning of his balanced equilibrium with the machine, the ground and himself.

The second event, the lad never flew over the steering mechanism, landing on solid ground, injuring himself like the last few times.

He continually gained more confidence, with each push of his feet.

Then shouting out a ‘Whooping’ cry of joy, the boy realized, ‘I’ve done it! I’ve done it!’

He stopped. Looking to his right side, he couldn’t wait to inform his dad of the successful achievement. But his father was not beside him.

A small amount of panic struck him. He turned around searching for his father. He found his dad standing 30 feet up the farm lane, waiting in anticipation of the results. Feeling relieved, the boy turned around and quickly tried to retrace his distance, back to where his dad stood.

Again, there was the momentary wobbling of the machine. Relying on his newfound courage to stabilize his center of gravity, the wobbling effect subsided 6 seconds later.

Upon reaching close to his father’s side, the boy jumps off his new bicycle and leaped into his father’s waiting arms. Excitedly he claimed he had done it, he could now ride a bicycle without the training wheels. Caught up in his son’s enthusiasm, the father spun his boy around in the air, commending him for being a big boy and joined in the victory yelps that followed.

Yes, that was his son’s day of success!

If that lad had wings, he would have soared with the eagles.

He just needed to fly to the highest heights …

of joy, unbounded!

Rebel Retribution

Without advanced warning, several small missile bombardments slammed into the space vessel. Spinning on its starboard side at an awkward 37° angle and -18° pitch, a klaxon alarm rang out its annoying screams of agony.

Scrambling to their feet with minor cuts and bruises, the space crew managed to stagger back to their posts. The worse for wear was the ship’s captain. He had a two-inch gash across his forehead from losing his balance and hitting the corner of the ships counsel.

Will someone shut off that damn annoying noise, bellowed the Captain Thrace.

A female crew personal responded and the klaxon went silent.

Who shot at us and why, the captain asked rhetorically. How badly have we been hit? Damage reports! ordered the captain.

A medical personal on the bridge began attending the injured after she bandaged the captain’s forehead. All areas of the vessel began slowly filtering through their damage reports except Chief Engineer, Darby Stockman.

Another surprise attack sent the USS Manko spinning violently with greater speed at a new -60° yawl and creating a stronger gravitational field. The crew worked hard to stop their vessel from spinning; they used thrusters to slow down and eventually stop the rotation.

Captain Thrace shouted into the intercom, Chief, are you there? Chief! Darby! Where are you man? Give me your status report.

The scientific research vessel, the United Star Ship (USS) Manko, registration #77868 - listed to the port and rotated slowly on its Z-axis. Severe damage could be seen on the left warp engine and parts of the main hull. Sparks, jet streams of frozen water, a few dead crew, and pieces on metal, drifted in all directions. This attack on a human star vessel was unwarranted and unnecessary. Whoever executed this ambush did a major disabling job of the ships forward momentum.

A scratchy reply came over the communications system, I’m here sir! I had the wind knocked out of me. Checking damages now sir! … Ship’s port warp drive - destroyed in weapons attack. The starboard one still functioning at full capacity, but it will only get us home at half the light speed we need. Some decks of the ship have minimal damage and are repairable; while a section of the saucer has been completely obliterated. What is your order sir?

Can this vessel be combat ready in fifteen minutes? We may be in for another surprise assault. It’s obvious the V’garis don’t want to negotiate peace talks nor join our United Federation of Planets. All they want is a fight and I’ll give them one!

Sir, our orders from HQ … Darby started to state.

I don’t care what our orders are! the captain shouted. Things have changed because of this outright insult.

Thrace thought, we should fight them back, at least once; to show we don’t like their negotiations. Or - would it be better, to retreat for now and return later with a full armada?

He made his choice, Get this ship BATTLE READY - Lieutenant! That’s an order!

Aye, aye Captain! I’m on it. I’ll have a more accurate report for you in a few minutes, replied Darby. After clicking off his internal communication system, the engineer nearly lost his balance. This was no time to collapse into unconsciousness from his injuries. One needed clarity always. The V’garis would return to do more damage, like a hit and run tactic or destroy the USS Manko completely.

Wiping blood from his lacerated cheek, the 24-year-old, dark haired engineer ordered all repair crews to their stations and begins repair procedures immediately.

Assessing the damage and what was still functional, the Chief Engineer found that main lasers were operational. The only catch was; the lasers could only be fired at intermittent intervals; like one shot every 3-minute period. If too much emphasis were put on these units, without the cool down intervals, the lasers would permanently burn out, leaving the Manko vulnerable. As for the photon launcher tubes, there were some damages, but the repair time would take 85 minutes.

On the bridge of the Manko, several bruised individuals worked feverishly to assess all problems being reported on. Reports flooded in from all decks of the space vessel. As a slim, seven-foot giant with brown eyes, Captain Thrace weighed all his options.

Can we get visual?

Yes captain. We’ll have visual in one minute, replied his female security officer.

When the main viewing screen crackled to life, nothing but stars were noticed. Checking all around the vessel, the security officer finally found the enemy vessel traveling away from them. It was heading to a nearby green coloured planet, orbited by four different sized moons.

Captain? Chief here!

What’s our situation Lieutenant Stockman?

Lasers are operational, but at 3 minute intervals of constant use only. Any more time than that and we’ll lose them for good.

All right. Anything else? queried Thrace.

Yes sir, there’s more.

Let’s have it - Lieutenant!

Photon launchers will not be ready for another hour or so. Two Impulse engines are totally fried; another one is running at 1/5 the power and could burn out soon if not shut down. The last impulse engine is functioning at 88% capacity only and we don’t want to damage it. As last resort, we do have manoeuvrable thrusters. I’m stopping the ship’s rotation as we speak.

The USS Manko stopped spinning in space and stood still.

The gravitational field generators are running at half strength right now. It will take two weeks to repair these delicate babies. Captain, we can still return home on the right warp drive, if we keep it under Warp 2.85.

Thank you - Lieutenant. Pondering over the engineers’ report, the captain weighed his options, carefully. Then a plan formed in his mind. It was a clear as crystal. He looked around at the expectant faces of his bridge crew, who awaited his orders. He requested interior ship communications.

To all personnel this is your captain speaking. We are going to fight the V’garis vessel, which instigated this unwarranted attack on us, unannounced. Keep a sharp eye out for any tricks they may use. Prepare for battle stations. Captain Thrace out!

Red lights aboard the vessel lit up, Red Alert signs flashed, while different sirens wailed their noisy trumpet blasts. When all personnel were at their posts, the siren sounds and Alert signs ceased, while the red lights continued. All positions were ready and battle mode was in place.

To the navigator, Navigator - follow that vessel, ordered the captain.

Aye Sir! replied the young yeomen.

The Manko began forward momentum; on it’s one operational impulse engine. Trying not to burn out this single unit, the captain ordered usage at a 50% level. The slowness of speed would give the Manko 135 minutes to reach its target. It also gave the allotted time needed for the engineers to repair the photon launching tubes.

Keep alert everyone, encouraged the captain.

When the USS Manko was 10 minutes from its intended target, the communications officer spoke up. Captain, I’m getting weird communications from the planet ahead.

"Communications? What’s it about