Diversified Writer
2 min readMay 26


Sci-Fi Friday: Tucker’s Luck

Around Betelguse 3 the starship GrgHll held a static orbit. Most of the crew were down on much needed planet leave. Their last mission had been an arduous one as attested by laser scarring on the hull.

In his quarters Captain Tucker was tapping away at a terminal finishing the last of his mission reportll ready for sub-space transist to HQ. He rubbed a hand over his bald head wearily.

A flicker in the shadows caught his eye and a black clad figure emerged from the shadows. It was holding a laser pistol pointed straight at him.

"Ah, Captain. We meet again."
The Captain sighed. He hated this shit, why did things never run smoothly.
"Well, when you say meet it's not strictly true. That might suggest a mutually agreeable face-to-face intentional chat not you stalking into my fucking cabin in a stealth suit and pointing a bloody pistol at me."

The black clad figured fired the pistol and turned the terminal into melted junk.

"I'd not yet pressed send on my report. Do you have ANY idea how long it took to write that?"
"I assure you that you'll never write another." Hissed the stranger.
"Thank fuck for that. I hate writing reports."
"You misunderstand. You'll be dust. Atoms floating in the air."
"Really that sounds quite peaceful."
"It's a THREAT."
"Really? You're not very good at them."
There was a pause.
"You think so? I'd been working on it in the mirror for ages."
The Captain smiled.
"More practice needed I'm afraid."
"But I swore to myself when I finally got to kill Captain Zammo everything would be perfect."
"Zammo you say?"
"Yes. That is you is it not?"
"Not. Zammo was the previous Captain. He got killed five years ago. Got caught in a crossfire. Terrible business."
"This is 2367?"
"Bugger. Sorry to have disturbed you!"
"No problem. Have a nice day and keep working on those threats."
The figure pushed a button on a device on his wrist and flickered out of existence.

The intercom crackled.
"Captain this is security. We detected weapons fire in your quarters. Is everything ok?"
"Yes all is well. Just another bloody temporal assassin who took a wrong turn at Albuquerque."
"Another one?"
"I know right. Can you have supplies send me a new terminal?"
"Right away Sir."



Diversified Writer

Darren is a short story and novella writer. He likes tall tales that have humour and heart. He’ll occasionally bring you poetry, finance and health blog posts.