Sci-Fi Shorts

The Final Straw

A/N: The prompt for this story was to write about a dogfight between an Earth-based and an alien craft, in the year 1919, in less than 500 words.

"Hallo there, Captain. Please take a seat."

"Hallo, Major. I must say, I didn't expect to be seeing you so soon, sir. What with the war being over and all that."

"Jolly nuisance, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is rather, sir. Still, chin up, pip-pip and so on. Mustn't grumble."

"Well said, Captain. Jolly good show."

"So, what seems to be the problem, sir?"

"Well, not to put too fine a point on it, it's these wretched aliens."

"Aliens, sir?"

"Aliens, Captain. The rotters appeared out of nowhere yesterday and began shooting up London. Most uncivilised."

"Well, they're not British, are they sir? What else can one expect?"

"Precisely, Captain. In any case, we'd like you to help us teach the beggars some ruddy manners."

"Language, sir."

"Sorry, Captain. These alien scoundrels have me thoroughly hot under the collar."

"Not to worry, sir. I'll soon have them sorted out."

"That's the spirit, Captain. Your Snipe is fueled and ready. Best of luck, old fellow."

****

Twenty minutes later, at 15,000 feet, Captain Algernon Higginbottom approached London. Fires dotted the city and pillars of smoke marred the otherwise clear blue sky. Spotting an alien craft circling over St Albans, lancing down destructive rays on the buildings below, he pointed the Snipe's nose towards them and opened up the throttle.

"Let's see how you like the taste of British lead, you wretched alien villain. Tally-ho!"

Guns blazing, he dove down on the alien, smiling with satisfaction as his bullets struck home with a series of flashes across the silvery fuselage. However his satisfaction soon turned to frustration, as the alien simply ignored his attack, and seemingly unharmed, continued to destroy the buildings below.

"Bother," muttered Higginbottom. "The bugger is bullet-proof. That's just not cricket." A few more slashing runs confirmed the alien's apparent invulnerability. Ammunition spent, Higginbottom dove down to rooftop level and headed for home.

Or at least he did until he recognised one of the buildings in the row that was being systematically destroyed from above. His blood ran cold. "Those alien fiends. Those otherworldy scum. Those interplanetary bastards. That's the Elephant and Castle!"

It was true. The building next in line for destruction was Higginbottom's fourth-favourite pub.

Things had just gotten personal.

Hauling back on the stick, he climbed at maximum power until he was several hundred feet above the alien craft. Just as its deadly rays set fire to the pub's fence, he pushed the stick forward and dove directly at the enemy, leaping clear of the cockpit only moments before impact.

The resulting blast sent him tumbling, and it was a few seconds before he was able to pull the ripcord. Drifting gently downwards, he watched as the flaming alien ship plunged to earth.

After landing in the Elephant and Castle's front yard, he marched inside, and pausing only to order a pint of Newcastle Brown, asked for the telephone.

"Hello, Major? Higginbottom here. Happy to report that those newfangled parachute thingies work a treat, sir.  Also, I'm going to need another Snipe."