Challenge

“Don’t worry. It’ll all go according to plan,” I reassured her that my plan was flawless.

Now I just needed to come up with one.

Rule one of coming up with a plan: work with what you’ve got. In this case, two rubber bands and a paperclip, and the clothes she stood up in if she was really that desperate.

Rule two: The environment is also what you’ve got. Nigh-seamless corridors made out of something that conserved energy by putting it back into the thing that hit it. One ricochet could, theoretically, wipe out the entire ship.

Alouette got a wicked smirk as she removed the rubber bands from her wrists and reconfigured the paperclip. “Did you know that there are reasons why they’ve successfully banned projectile weapons in space?” she said conversationally.

“What?” Princess Gaart made the universal what-the-hell-is-this human-doing face. “Everyone knows this…”

Alouette strung the rubber bands between her index and pinkie finger and gave the enemy the Devil Sign as she drew back her missile. “When I say ‘duck’…” she warned. Aloud, to the aliens, “I have a projectile weapon and I’m not afraid to use it!” She drew back the adjusted paperclip.

“Listen to the human,” shrieked Princess Gaart. “They’re level four Deathworlders!”

It was the first time she’d bluffed her way out of a pickle with a weapon that might just actually work for a change. And possibly the first time anyone had threatened anyone else with a paperclip.

Rule three: It’s not a dense idea if it actually works.

[Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]

“This is according to your plan?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of plan was that?”
“The plan was -Do not die.- All is still going according to plan… barely.”

“This is why,” raged Krel over the gunfire aimed in their general direction. “This is why I never get involved with humans!”

“Awright,” admitted Jude. “This is something of a tight spot.”

“TIGHT? We’re cornered

Don’t want to have people commenting your sudden bout of suicidal stupidy by taunting murphy?

How about not taunt murphy?

[AN: I did leave instructions on the Submissions box to only pick up to three tags. Otherwise I have to whittle your collection of tags down to three so I can add my own tags. Please remember this when picking tags for your prompts.]

This media was not only old, but it had been played to the point of nearing uselessness

Don’t worry. He comes up with crazy ideas, but they’re so crazy they actually work half the time.

“…hey!” said exhibit A, aka Hwell Barrow. “I’ll have you know I have a ninety-eight percent success rate.”

“It’s the two percent that bites my tail,” Ax'and'l managed through gritted teeth. “And we agreed that there would be no bickering in front of potential clients.”

“If we agreed

And, isn’t sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you’re good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit!”

“Awright. Yes. Humans as a race are kinda nuts,” Hwell admitted. “There’s lots of things I can’t immediately explain.”

“And your individual susceptibility to Silly Season,” added Ax'and'l. “What evolutionary advantage is there on picking up

Most certainly a [species] spy in disguise. I mean not. Not a [species] spy. Human. Completely human. Yes.

“Oh, now, come on,” said the Doctor. “That can’t be a Friendly. That’s obviously a Golgafraxan spy in disguise. Do none of you notice her complexion?”

“Doctor…”

“If it is a her. They get the genders mixed up.”

“Doctor…”

“Look I’ll prove it. Golgafraxans react

Recalibrate your sarcasm detector.

“All right,” said Ama. “Where we’re going has lots of humans. So let’s make sure we’re prepared. Remember, even though they’re Class Four Deathworlders, they don’t mean to harm us. They’re aware of our relative frailties and will act accordingly.”

“Yes’m,” said the entire class. They were halfway into their safety suits.

El struggled with her Permaseal Line, panicking, and desperate to not be left

“I like paying taxes. With them I buy civilization.” – Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes

Patriot Imbaw swaggered up to the immigration counter, and pressed his paperwork through the little slot. “I need citizenship on this here Galactic Station ay-sap. How can we -ah- accelerate that process?” He had a greasy smile and greasy hair. In fact, just about everything about him could be described in terms of grease. It seemed like he perspired oily residue that had no origin in the

You’ll make it in five days, boosting six points past emergency max the whole way. If the engineer’s been doing his job, the engines won’t blow until you hit eight. Quite safe.

Plasma from Hyperspace leaked with every ship that travelled through a wormhole. And when it reached a certain density, or a one-way wormhole ‘popped’ into a two way passage, electrons discharged through it in a pattern that still baffled mathematicians everywhere.

And for those caught in Crossroads

I may be small, but I screw up big because I’m standing on the shoulders of GIANTS.

The dangerous mammals were clustered in one area. One area full of volatile chemicals, dangerous levels of electricity, and heavy concentrations of methane and pathogens.

Hundreds of them gathered in the night to observe some ritualistic activity that involved rhythmic gyrations and consumption or production of the above substances.

They were a threat to the Mo'fathan Empire.

Which was how Kirxaan the Mighty opened

“I’m not panicking, I’m watching you panic. It’s more entertaining.”

This was the first time she’d been locked in a room with a human. While it did bring people watching to new and increasingly intimate levels, it did rather limit the options, should said human start lashing out.

As it was, this one seemed to like saying ‘okay’ a lot.

“Okay… Oh….kay. Okay, okay, okay. Okay. Okayokayokayokayokayokay… Ooooohhhhhhh&