TIME and Unforeseen Occurrence
by
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I don’t believe it! Marshall Buchanan stared at the pair of fours, seething in anger. This is my best hand of the night!
“Call or raise, Marshall,” Gary Simmons said from across the table. “It’s your turn.”
Buchanan looked around the table. They all know I have nothing in my hand! Gene Fleming, another Grade-1, Small Equipment Engineer, sat at his left with that same look of disinterest on his big stubbly face that he always had. It really got on his nerves the way he never ever changed his expression. Maybe a fat lip and a broken nose would bring a smile to your face, you big, ugly, stupid ape. Gene was definitely someone he had grown to dislike. Gary sat opposite and held his head at a tilt just slightly. He looked right into Buchanan’s eyes with just a hint of a smile on his face. That means he has a good hand. Gary’s the only one at the table who lets me know what kind of hand he’s holding, and he knows he’s got me beat. Emerson Theodides, the highest ranking non-com-mech in the rec lounge, sat at his right and only moved his eyes. He knows it too! They all know it! He could feel the anger come boiling out. “This is a stupid game!” he shouted in frustration and threw his cards on the table.
“Whoa, Marshall,” Gary cautioned. “Take a breath.”
“Yeah. Take a breath, hypo-boy,” Gene Fleming commented without looking up.
Buchanan held his gaze on Gene for just a moment. He had a fleeting thought of cutting the man’s big, round head off with his arc-knife and watching it fall to the deck. He then turned to Gary. “Take a breath.” He shook his head. “Yeah, I try Gary. I sit and try. I really do. But how’s a guy supposed to relax when all I get dealt is phleb every hand? Then I got this slag-faced pigasaurus,” he pointed to Fleming, “on one side and that beer-belching goob,” he gestured at Theodides, “sitting on the other? The only time they change expressions is when they fart, which is all the time,” he looked hard at Fleming, “or I make a stupid bet. I’ve had enough of them. I’m going to bed. I can’t wait to get off this tub tomorrow and get home.”
“The farts go with the air pressure in here, hypo-boy,” Fleming stated. “Can’t be helped.”
“I’d like to help you step outside you alley-creeping, hold-dwelling…”
“You’ve actually been doing pretty good, Marshall,” Gary cut Buchanan off as he sat back in his chair. “You’ve just got to relax more. You take what you’re dealt but you still play the game. You walk out of the game before all your chips are played and it’s just giving up. You just can’t keep doing that whenever things don’t go your way. Always finish what you start and give it your best. Then there’s no regrets.”
“I appreciate your help, Gary.” Buchanan could feel the care in his friend’s soothing words that he had come to appreciate. “But I just can’t sit here any more tonight. After three months in here, I’m just anxious to get home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Fleming again chided him. “I told your momma that I would take care of her little A-D-D boy.”
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About the Book
From the author of The Justice Gift comes a historical tale of lost loves and dreams and the endeavor to make a meaningful life when everything and everyone you care about are gone forever. Imagine being thrown into the distant past with a few modern conveniences but having to hide them so you were not discovered and deemed to be a sorcerer. Now imagine someone from our own future being flung into the past with just that dilemma. How will he adjust and fit in with those of that time? How will the machines he depends on to take care of himself and those around him be kept hidden and his own life protected?
Marshall Buchanan faces just that on his return to Earth from a deep-space supply mission. A catastrophic emergency takes hold of his vessel and Buchanan jettisons away in an escape pod just before the ship is destroyed.
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