A Dangerous Situation

I didn't think anything extraordinary would happen that one day so many years ago.  But during that day, my life would be changed forever.  As I powered up the Slarpitt-drives on my Wethrix compact-transport (CT), I only expected it to be a quick trip a galaxy or two over to Henry's Macro-Mart.  But as I watched the stars gliding by so serenely out my window, I noticed something that seemed out of place.

Indeed, this something was a large asteroid and I realized that at its current trajectory, it would impact upon and destroy, a small primitive planet in the Spiral Galaxy of Trethyog.  I pulled every lever I could find in my cockpit that might slow me down in the least bit, but to my dismay, my CT's Slarpitt drives were too powerful. I cursed the upgrades I had recently made to them, as my ship sailed another solar-system over.

When my CT finally came to a stop I realized that if I was to go back and try to stop the asteroid (a daunting task in itself), I would not have the necessary amount of fuel cells to return to a developed planet and, eventually home.  So for a few moments I sat there, pondering my most unfortunate situation.  Finally, faced with the possibility of holding the deaths of an entire planet on my conscience, I threw forward the accelerator and sent my CT into a graceful loop that would return me to the ill-fated world of the Trethyog Galaxy.

When I arrived I realized just how unprepared I was to deal with the situation.  One small CT against a class-Q asteroid? The odds against me were insurmountable. But with my fuel cells already reaching a critical level, I knew there was nothing else I could do at this point. So I sat there. And I thought.

I thought and thought and thought and thought, but to my chagrin, there seemed to be no way to alleviate the planet's (and my) terrible situation.  As I looked out the windows at all the millions and millions of star systems, I began to realize just how lonely space could be.  But just as overwhelming feelings of complete and utter depression were about to wash over me, permeating my soul, and penetrating the very core of my being, a thought suddenly made it's way into the corners of my mind.  My entire life was leading up to this moment. Though my name would never be entered into the intergalactic history books, I would be responsible for saving the lives of millions of innocent beings.  As this new feeling of motivation flowed through me, an idea popped into my mind, and I felt like a fool for not thinking of it before.

Most CTs were fitted with a small towing device.  This hook, however, was only meant to carry other transports of equal or lesser weight, and not asteroids, particularly of a Class-Q size.  But I had a bottle of Trinoxyl High-Energy Metal Coolant in the storage receptacle of my CT! Trinoxyl coolant is renowned the universe over for its ability to super-harden any material it touches (other than the inside of high-energy Slarpitt reactor drives).  I realized that, if I coated the wire connecting the hook and my CT with a sizeable portion of Trinoxyl, there was just the slimmest chance that the wire would hold the asteroid.  Managing to attach the hook to the asteroid itself was something I hadn't quite gotten to yet.  But I, in my infinite genius, came up with a contraption that rectified that situation after giving it some though.  I set to work as fast as I could, aware that the slightest delay could mean the end of entire civilizations.  I connected the batteries that powered the life-support systems of my vessel to the plasma exhaust tube on the outer wall of my ship. I rewired the controls stabilizer on the drobsaad-influx manifolds, which in turn could create a huge reverse output of plasma that could potentially fire a well-placed CT towing cable out of the exhaust tube directly onto the surface of a certain class-Q asteroid. Upon finishing the laborious mechanical portion of my plan I zipped up my zero-G togs and stepped out into the weightless infinity of space. I inserted the towing hook and coated the connecting wire with Trinoxyl coolant.  Upon returning to my ship I sat down at the main console and prepared for the moment of truth.

I waited and waited until the asteroid had sailed into the exact right position and then WHOMP! With an incredible shudder I fired up the rewired drobsaad-influx manifolds and the hook attached itself to the asteroid! At this point I became painfully aware that if I wasn't able to change the course of the asteroid it would drag me directly into one of the greatest explosions this side of the galaxy had seen since the big bang! (I'm exaggerating, of course) Pushing that awful thought out of my head, I set to work rewiring the ship so that the power cells from all systems would be funneled into the Slarpitt drives.  After completing this task it was time for the moment of truth… again.

Letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and wiping away a thick layer of perspiration from my forehead I placed both hands on the accelerator levers and prepared myself.  I threw them upwards and my CT suddenly lurched loudly. Then it bumped up and down a few times and I could hear a terrible screeching noise as the outer hull of my vehicle struggled to maintain its integrity.  The lights went dim as power was siphoned off to the reactor drives and breathing grew difficult as life-support systems began to fail.  The ship groaned and whined and a console behind me exploded into flames.  Sparks began to rain down upon me and I realized that I'd failed. With a final loud crash the horrible screeching sound subsided and the rear half of my CT was torn away.  Now the remaining half of the CT (which I still occupied) began to spiral away from the asteroid. All systems had failed, and I no longer had visual contact with the outside world. The battered wreckage of my ship sailed though space.  As I presumed it would forever.

I've managed to blend in among these creatures and I've made their planet my "home away from home," so to speak. Occasionally, when dealing with the particularly nasty individuals of the planet I wonder if my sacrifice was truly worth it.  But I've made some pleasant friends and some of the nicer creatures of the planet convinced me that saving them was definitely the wise thing to do.  Do I miss my old life and family? Of course.  But the feeling of satisfaction I get from knowing that the people of this planet Earth are alive today because of my efforts gives my life a feeling of complete fulfillment. That feeling is something I wouldn't trade for the world.

But to my surprise, it began to grow extremely hot in the cramped quarters of my deteriorating transport, and I realized I was sailing through the atmosphere of a planet.  The fact that I survived the terrible crash is as miraculous as the fact that I was able to move the asteroid a mere 6 centimeters, which turned out to be enough to avert a certain planet's certain doom. Now I am marooned on this planet, whose inhabitants have no idea how close they came to total and complete annihilation.  

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