Spaceman Michael and the Sorkon Raiders
Zappow! A blast of neutron energy bounced off the bow deck plates of Captain Michael Clifford’s space cruiser.
“Sorkon raiders! Commander Lancelot, defensive plan 3-5-1,”
Captain Michael gave the order to his second in command. He could not afford to lose his ship, the GS Skookum Apples. His cargo was too precious. Captain Michael had been assigned the most dangerous and important job ever issued to any captain in the Galactic Services. He could not allow the Apples to be captured, especially by the Sorkons.
Zappow! Zappow! Two more blasts zipped by them from the rear, just above them. “Nyaaa! Ya missed, fungus-head. Commander Lancelot, defensive plan 3-5-1. Let’s go!”
Commander Lancelot was normally an outstanding navigator. It surprised his captain to see him frozen at the controls. Was it fear that held him motionless, or single-minded purpose?
Lancelot was a large, hairy creature from the planet Canis. His home world orbited Sirius, known by earthlings as the dog star. The navigator sat patiently, mouth agape and tongue hanging out. Great blobs of poisonous drool dropped from his tongue and splattered on the control console. Canisians were known throughout the galaxy for their drooling.
Zappow! Another blast bounced off of the aft plates. “Commander Lancelot. They have our range. Defensive plan 3-5-1! And stop drooling on the instruments. You’ll mess ‘em up. Look-- You’re making the ink run.”
Galactic Command entrusted Captain Michael with the most dangerous and important assignment of his sterling career. His job was to escort Becky, crown princess of the planet Babble, to the galactic peace conference on planet Exxon. Her signature would insure peace in that quadrant of the galaxy. But there were some on the Galactic Council who would prefer she not arrive. Peace would not be profitable for them. They hired Sorkon raiders to stop the princess. The evil, greedy, Sorkons worked for anyone with the right amount of credits.
Zappow! Fzzzzst! “We’re hit! Curse those Sorkons. They’ve damaged our star drive. Lance– evasive maneuver 2-6 alpha, by 2-7 delta. We need a place to hide and repair our motor. Any ideas? We’re in the middle of nowhere. Not much ‘round here.”
“Whoofff.”
“Good idea, Lance. That planetary moon is uninhabited. The only thing that grows there an earthman can eat is broccoli. No wonder it’s not inhabited. I think we can make it. I just hope our food store doesn’t run out ...”
“Mikey, what’s happening?” As usual, the princess had come to the bridge uninvited. “Why have we stopped?”
“It’s Captain Michael, Princess. Sorkon raiders have attacked and damaged our ship.”
“Sorkons? Are they mean?”
“Of course they’re mean. They’re pirates. Bullies.”
“Bullies? What do they want?”
“You’re heading to Exxon to sign a peace treaty. What do you think they want?”
“Will we be okay? Is the ship broken? What are we gonna do? Can you fix it?”
Captain Michael regretted being stuck with a girl from Babble. She’ll probably talk my ear off, he thought, and not give me any peace.
But he had accepted the mission and was honor bound to complete it. The captain knew that leaving a chattering girl alone on a deserted planet would not be considered– honorable. Don’t even think about it, Michael.
“Don’t worry, Princess. They’re bullies, but they’re dummies. We’ll protect you. They’ve hit one of our star drive motors. We’re going to land on Whoofff to make repairs. It’s a large moon near here. Please go back to the guest quarters and fasten your seat belt. This could be a rough landing.”
“Mikey, I want to stay here with you and Lancelot.” With that compliment, Commander Lancelot turned and gave her a wet, sloppy, Canisian kiss. Drool glistened on her cheek.
“Commander Lancelot! Don’t do that, you’ll poison the princess. We need to get her to the peace conference alive.”
“Oh, I don’t mind, Mikey. His drool doesn’t bother me.” She gave Lancelot a kiss on his wet, Canisian nose.
“Commander, stop trying to poison the princess. Just protect her while I fix our motor. A Sorkon ship may follow us in. I’ll take us down. Strap yourself in, Princess. This could get rough.”
The captain fought with the steering controls. “Lance– with one engine out, she steers like a barge!”
Just as he feared, the landing was a rough one. His ship bounced a few times, and came to rest at the base of a giant broccoli plant.
Michael Clifford crawled out of his disabled space cruiser unto the surface of a desolate moon. Princess Becky and Lancelot climbed out and stood next to him as he took stock of the wreck.
“Well, Princess, looks like we’re stuck here. At least until I can get this ship running again. But at least you won’t starve– if you like broccoli.”
As he spoke, Luther, the pirate captain of the Sorkon Raider vessel Ravage, stepped out of a gap in the hedge. “Hey, twerp. Nice go-cart. Yer dad build it for ya?”
“It happens to be a Galactic Service Command space cruiser.”
“Whatever you say, Mikey. Hey– your wheel fell off.”
“One of your raiders hit my star drive motor.”
“Well, ya gotta pay me a quarter to park it here.”
“We’ll only be here long enough to get the ship running again ...”
“A dime then.” Captain Luther rubbed his head a moment, obviously receiving a telepathic signal from one of his crew. Sorkons were well known for their telepathic abilities.
“Tell ya what,” the evil Luther cackled. “Ya caught me on my birthday. I’m in a good mood. I’ll help ya fix yer rocket ship, if you’ll let me take it for a ride.”
“Happy birthday,” Becky giggled. Lancelot just sat and drooled.
Captain Michael knew that the Sorkons didn’t intend to hurt Princess Becky. That would start an interstellar war. All they needed to do was prevent her from making the signing ceremony.
The Sorkons only needed to disable the ship, the captain thought. That’s why they didn’t blow us out of the sky. Luther intends to take my ship and strand us here. With nothing to eat but broccoli, we’ll starve. I can’t let him take the ship.
While Captain Michael thought about his next move, Luther picked up a rock and pounded the wayward wheel back onto the axle.
“There ya go, twerp. All fixed.” The evil bully took the princess by the arm. “Come on, Becky. Climb in. We’ll leave your boyfriend here and take ‘er for a spin.”
The Sorkon bully began to pull his captive toward the ship. But Commander Lancelot remembered his orders. Protect the princess.
He leaped to his feet, hit the villain in the chest with his fore paws, knocked him flat on his back, and held him down. Then Lancelot gave his enemy a sloppy Canisian kiss across the face. Poisonous drool glistened on Luther’s cheeks. The huge Canisian stood over his captive and glared down at him, while great blobs of drool splattered on the pirate’s face and chest.
“Help,” the evil Sorkon screamed and squirmed. “Get off me, ya big, furry, hair ball. Your drool—you’re poisoning me! Aaarrrg! Lemme up! Yuck! Call ‘im off, Mikey. I was only playin’ with ya. Ak– poison! Lemme up!”
Finally, the evil Sorkon pirate was able to wriggle free. He quickly disappeared through a hole in the hedge, howling about being poisoned and needing a bath.
Princess Becky ran to Commander Lancelot, threw her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss on his nose. “Thank you,” she gushed, “for protecting me from that bully. When we get back home, I’ll throw a grand parade in your honor. Until then, how can I repay you?”
The Canisian nosed around the pocket of Becky’s jacket. The princess dug into the pocket and pulled out a big Milk Bone. “I know what you like. How about a treat?”
Captain Michael Clifford slapped his second in command on the back. “Good work, Commander Lancelot. Remind me to award us both medals of valor when we get back to base. Now let’s get off this moon. All this broccoli is making me itch.”
Two hours later, Becky and Michael stopped by Luther’s house with a present for his birthday.
“He’s asleep in his room,” his mother told them. “He came running into the house, shouting something about poisonous drool. He took a bath without being told to. That never happens. Then he went straight to bed. And on his birthday, too. He must be sick. I’ll take your present to him. Maybe it will make him feel better. Thank you. Would you like a piece of birthday cake?”
“Oh, no thank you, ma’am. We’ll come back later when Luther feels better. Right now, we have a galaxy to save.”
As they strolled down the sidewalk, Becky turned to Michael. “What did you get him, Mikey?”
“Oh, something my dad brought home from his job at the bank. It’s a coin bank shaped like a rocket ship.”
Becky giggled. Lancelot just drooled.
The continuing adventures of nine-year-old Michael Clifford and his
sidekick, Lancelot the Saint Bernard. Based on real events sixty years
ago, in the '50s.
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