THE ADVENTURES of MICHAEL MITTY
"Hi, Michael," said the shapely brunette, as Michael entered the mail room.
"Hey, Miranda," Michael replied.
"Looks like you'll be here awhile," she remarked, nodding toward the armful of papers Michael held.
"Um, yeah. Mr. Crickmeyer wants me to hand off my projects to two or three other people so I have to make copies of everything."
"Are you leaving us?"
"Sort of. I'm being reassigned to R & D, up on the sixth floor."
Miranda smiled. "Well, at least you'll still be in the building, and that's good, because I like you."
"I, um, like you, too," Michael said, blushing.
Miranda smiled again. "It's good that we like each other," and she squeezed past him on her way out of the mail room, touching him on the elbow as she passed.
Michael watched Miranda's aerodynamic curves a moment longer, then turned to survey the giant commercial copier in front of him, with its dashboard of buttons and displays. He knew no fear when it came to this machine, for it often seemed to him that he was born to command it.
"Captain, the Xeroxians have opened fire!"
"Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Frieze. Weapons Officer, return fire!" Michael swiveled his captain's chair back to the main viewscreen. "I've just been given command, I'm not going to lose this starship already!" he thought determinedly to himself.
Suddenly the deck tilted violently as the energy discharge from the Xeroxians impacted the shields, and a cascade of sparks flew up from the navigation panel. The helmsman cried out in agony, then fell from his chair. Michael rushed to take his place. "I'll just have to fly her, myself," he growled.
His hands flew over the controls in front of him. "All hands! Prepare for Tactical Combat Attack Pattern Zeta!!" he shouted over the red alert alarm klaxons ringing everywhere. "Weapons, transfer control of the phaser batteries to this console!" Then, his hands dancing on the array in front of him once again, he threw the ship into a lightning-quick series of twists, turns, drops, rises, spins, and rolls, finally coming up behind the Xeroxian ship. "Oh, I've got you now," Michael thought as his finger stabbed the firing switch.
A bolt of pure plasmic energy shot from the bow and incinerated the Xeroxian ship. A cheer went up from the crew as it exploded into millions of sub-atomic particles and dispersed slowly.
Their joy was short-lived, however, as within moments another crewman yelled, "Captain! Three more Xeroxian vessels decloaking. They've got us surrounded sir, and are demanding we surrender!"
"We'll never surrender," Michael snarled. "I've been in the jelly worse than this."
"Jam," said a female voice quietly in his ear.
Michael blinked. "What?"
"I said you've got a jam. A paper jam," and Miranda pointed to the copier's display.
"Oh. Oh, yes," Michael replied as he reached for the copier doors. "Thank you."
"Do you need any help?"
"No, I don't think so," Michael said as he surveyed the situation. "I've, uh, I've been in worse jams than this. Thanks, though," and Michael turned back to the machine.
"Well, if you need help, call me," and Miranda walked to the door of the mail room, then turned back, "in fact, why don't you call me, anyway?" and then she slipped away.
What's this? A love interest for Michael? What should happen next? (Keep it clean, people.)
You can read all five scenes of my "Saturday Novel" by clicking the "Saturday Novel" label to the lower right of this page.