Tevun-Krus #11 - Holiday Extravaganza

Flash Christmas

A flash-fiction short
By: @AngusEcrivain 

He had no Earthly idea how he had survived yet against all probability, it seemed, he had. Several hundred feet behind him the AS Notorious burned, the steel girders that made up the frame of the airship sparking in yellow and orange branches, arcing some distance through the air.

The Junior Master of Teas shook his head, slowly. Lifting his aching, battered body he scanned the surrounding area yet could see no other signs of life, no indication that anyone else at all had survived the crash.

In the night sky above he chanced that he saw several flashes of light although closer scrutinisation convinced him that was not the case, that it must have been something to do with the fact he had been staring at the burning wreckage for several minutes.

He was not entirely sure where he was, other than the fact he was somewhere in Greenland, right where the very edge of the Empire gave way to No-Man's Land, the narrow belt that served as a buffer between the British and Incan Empires.

“You there!”

The Junior Master of Teas turned at the shout and instinctively raised his hands above his head. He saw three men; soldiers, heavily armed with state-of-the-art ray guns and full leather body armour. Realising they were British, he lowered his extremities and introduced himself.

“Charles Pentworthy,” he shouted. Though the distance was not great there was a cruel wind about the air. “Junior Master of Teas aboard the AS Notorious... Or at least, I was.”

“You survived that?” The middle of the three soldiers asked as they neared young Master Pentworthy, and a look of mild admiration spread across the faces of all three. “Major Alvin Bethlehem. This is Private Grant Myrrh and Private Sarah Gold.”

“Pleasure,” Charles replied. “Do you have any idea what happened? Only the Prime Minister was aboard.”

“We have our suspicions,” Bethlehem replied, “and judging by the way the AS Notorious was put down without so much of a fight, I think those suspicions just proved themselves correct.”

“What suspicions?” asked Charles, wishing that he had a comfortable bed to lay upon and that he could sleep for a week.

“A third front has reared its ugly head,” said Gold. “It's not just the Incans and the Mongols we're fighting any more. There is a new threat that comes from the stars.”

“We stand at the advent of a new era, Master Pentworthy,” said Myrrh. “Ironic, really, it being Christmas Eve and all.”

“A threat from the stars?” Charles asked, his eyebrow raised.

“Aye,” Bethlehem replied. “It seems theories of extra-terrestrial beings are no longer simply theories but we can talk further at our base. If we're lucky the goose won't be too dry and you, young Master Pentworthy, can make us all a nice cup of tea.”

With that, the Junior Master of Teas followed the three soldiers across the cold, barren land.

Merry Christmas, one and all, he thought, sighing deeply as he walked.