Louise watched as the man across the table from her talked with his mouth full of over priced appetizers.  They had met barely an hour ago and already she could tell this was going to be a long night.

“Sho thath why a thivalized thociety can never evolve.”

Louise looked at his dumb face and hoped she was doing an adequate job masking her distain.  Though she couldn’t be sure, she felt certain there must be a special circle of hell for friends who set up pity dates for their supposed desperate friends.  God forbid anyone would ever want to stay single.  Still, life on a battle cruiser left you few options in the love department.

“Oh, well that…”  Louise stopped and decided not to crush his spirit.  The night was still young and there was plenty of time to send him off demoralized. “Is a good point you make there Mark.”

Mark smiled wide and proud displaying a plaque infested forest of spinach causing her to suppress a laugh.

“Did you always want to be an anthropologist?”  She asked as she pushed her spinach away.

“Oh, yes.  Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of one day flying through the stars and discovering new life.”

It was too much and Louise laughed.  Mark blushed and looked down at his plate.

“Sorry, it’s just, well; don’t you think that was a little melodramatic?”

Mark took his napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth then folded it neatly next to his plate.  He placed both hands on the table and leaned in.  He looked left then right and did his best to talk only loud enough for her to hear.

“You know what, Louise.  Have you ever stopped to think why no one wants to date you?  It’s a small ship, ya know.  You don’t think I’ve heard the rumors about you; how you’re such a bitch.  I didn’t even want to come tonight, but I promised a friend I’d at least make an effort.”  He slid his chair back from the table and stood up.  “I used to feel sorry for you, because you always seemed alone, but now I feel sorry for you because you’re just a mean, selfish jerk who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.  Well I have news for you.  You’re no better than any of us Louise.  No better at all.”

She sat in stunned silence as she watched Mark leave the dining hall.  She came around just as he was about to walk out of ear shot.  She called out to him before he left.

“Mark wait, please.”

Mark turned and waited as Louise walked toward him.

“First of all Mark, go frack yourself.  I may not be better than anyone else, but you’re no Bruce Willis yourself there, mate.  And if I’m so average then ask yourself this – who are you going to call when an Antarian battle fleet has jumped into our sector, fired an EMP and knocked out our nav. Computer?  I know who you’re gonna call.  Me.  And do you know why?  Because I’m the only one on the ship who knows Pi to 150 places past the decimal and I’m only the only one who can run a navigation formula in my frackin head.  I’m the only one who can jump us out of danger without getting us lost in infinite space forever.  Do you have any idea how hard that is?  No, of course not.  No one does.  No one can, because no one else in the entire known race of Man can do what I do.  So pardon the frack out of me if I don’t find your small talk interesting.  I–”

Louise was unable to continue as she was hurled through the dining hall.  The emergency lighting flicked on and bathed the dining hall in a faint orange glow.  She watched through the flickering energy of the emergency force field as the back half of the ship floated away.  She knew the fields didn’t come up on the derelict fuselage because she could see bodies being sucked out into the vacuum of space.  She wondered which one was Mark.

Louise closed her eyes and tried to stand.  She couldn’t move her legs.  The force of the blast must have broken them.  She heard the captain’s voice crack over the intercom.  Something about all systems failed.  No engines.  All hands prepare to surrender.  Louise tuned out the captain’s voice and accessed her self diagnostic screen.  Servos in both legs were off-line.  Antarians hate cyborgs.  She would most likely be killed on site.   She closed her eyes and waited for the boarding party to find and execute her.  There was nothing – only 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841…

Author’s note: It’s good to be back doing #fridayflash.  This week’s story is based on a prompt from the great writeanything [fiction]Friday challenge.  I hope you liked this sad interstellar tale.  Have a great week.

Author’s Note: Hello my friends, today’s tale takes place after the stunning events depicted in The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan, which is set to relaunch very soon.  It was also inspired by a [fiction] Friday prompt from writeanything.  which challenged writers to “Use a McGuffin”  And now onto the the story!

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Devon watched as the fat man struggled to climb the steep stairs.  It seemed he had chosen the meeting location well and would certainly have the obese man at a disadvantage.   He idly scratched his stubbly head as he waited for the man to make his ascent and wondered what it was that compelled him to have shaved himself bald.

“Couldn’t you… have picked… somewhere… with air conditioning… and… no stairs?” said the enormous man as he heaved the locked, metal case onto the table between them.

Fat man tried to wipe the sweat from his brow.  Devon could see the man’s sleeve was already soaked through.

“Sorry, but I needed to know how far you were willing to go to bring me that sword.”

“’Pose you wanna… see it.”  The overweight antiquities dealer reached his pudgy fingers into his breast pocket and retrieved the key to the case.

Devon licked his lips in anticipation as the hasps sprang up and the case was flipped open.  The fat man looked up from the case and slowly turned it toward Devon.

“A most… amazing sword, this,” said the fat man taking a casual step back.  “You… do know the story of how it was found?”

Devon shook his head.  He had been hired to procure the sword for a rich collector.  His job was merely to authenticate the sword, pay for it if necessary and abscond with it if possible.  He took a jeweler’s loupe from his pocket and examined the sword in the case.  It didn’t take long for Devon to see the blade was forged from Toledo steel.  The cup over the hilt was intricately detailed, yet he could see faint traces of feathering on the edges indicating the design was hand hammered and not machine stamped.  Finally, the grip; delicate brass cord wrapped around wood.  His trained eye could tell the cord could almost be considered bronze, an indication of how the Spanish used to make their brass.  The pommel was rather plain for such a well made and obviously expensive sword; a simple filigree with an ornate letter “J”.  There was little doubt this sword was authentic and in this condition, exceedingly rare.

“Your… consensus?”

“It’s too well preserved, yet there is overwhelming proof that this sword is from the 1600’s”

“So you haven’t heard the stories then?”

“No, I prefer to work unattached to the objects I’m to validate.  Professional detachment from the items keeps me honest.  A trait, I’m sure you can understand.”

“Quite.”  The fat man, no longer winded from his climb, continued to sweat profusely in the midday sun.  “But aren’t you the least bit curious, from an academic stand point of course, how a relic so old, could look so new?”

“You have me there sir.”

The fat man smiled and nodded knowingly.

“I first happened upon the rumor of this sword ten years ago whist procuring a rather… unique early American pistol.  The owner of said pistol had asked me if I knew of a sword recently discovered in the bowels of an old sailing vessel found on the coast of Spain.  Of course, as you can imagine, I was most interested in learning more about a sword that would interest this, particular, client.  Turns out that the ship in question was almost completely disintegrated, rotten through and through, save the captain’s quarters which were, and I assure you I do not embellish, miraculously undamaged.  Not a smidgen of decay in the whole cabin.  And there in the center of the room at his desk sat, who I can only assume was the captain of this un-named vessel.  Now, if that weren’t enough, this is where the story gets interesting.  While the cabin and the ship had been discovered several weeks prior to my arrival, not a single person had been able to set foot in the room.  Everyone who tried was immediately overcome with some unknown illness; brought almost to the point of death.   Yet something told me I would not be affected by such afflictions were I to try and enter the room.  I was proved correct, of course; else you and I would not be here now.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Devon.

“Oh, I know it’s a fantastical story, but I promise every word is true.  I stepped into the room, a portal in time, perfectly preserved.  The captain had the sword clutched in his hand which was resting across his mighty desk.  And as I gently pried the mummified fingers loose everything but this sword turned to dust.   Crumbled around me like a house of cards.  I made off with the sword in the ensuing chaos.  It wasn’t my intent when I began my archeological investigation of the room, but once the sword was in my hand I knew I had to flee.”

“So if this sword is what you say it is, a magically preserved relic of some unknown Spanish captain, why are you selling it to my employer?  Wouldn’t you want to keep such a thing for yourself?”

“Oh, I want to keep it, no doubt, no doubt about that, m’boy.  But I can’t, you see.  The same force that drove me to take it now drives me to part with it.”

“And you think my employer-”

“No.  I think the sword belongs to you.  Don’t ask me how I know because I’m sure I have no answer.”

Devon wondered how the rotund man had managed to turn the tables so easily.  He placed a trembling hand upon the sword and freed it from the case.  The perfect balance felt natural in his untrained hand.  He took a couple practice swings then sniffed several times confused by a sudden change of odor.

“Do you smell that?”  He asked the fat man.  “Do you smell the sea?”