Optima Magazine

An entry into our 2011 Short Story Competition on the theme of Starlight

There was no way I was going to miss the first trip. I’d have looked such a loser in front of my friends. Their fathers all do stuff with them. Sports. Having adventures. Being buddies. My Dad’s too busy. Always going on expeditions. He’s a Space Captain. Well, basically he’s just a tour guide, but he’s got his own ship so he can call himself whatever he likes.

Dad’s new ship has got loads of transmitting beacons so that everyone can take off at the same time. You should see his advertising: “Transmit to Earth and experience the life of an alien being – from the inside!” it says. Wow! Nice one, Dad. That’s the way to get the punters in. Not just ambling round galaxies like he used to do in the first ship. Same old planets, same old running commentaries. No wonder he wanted to upgrade his tours.

“Go on, Dad, let me come with. Pleeease!”

“No,” he said, “and that’s final.”

So I went to Mum. “Please make Dad take me with him.”

I said it about a hundred times in one morning. That’s the way to do it. I nagged her, so she nagged Dad. “It’s about time you did some bonding with the boy,” she told him. I could hear her, following him round the house, going on and on. In the end he gave in.

“Great, Dad,” I said, “It’ll be just like Starlight.”

We get loads of Earth TV programmes and that’s my favourite. It’s about a giant spaceship called Starlight where the crew solve problems all over the Universe. Dad says I spend too much time watching it. So what? It’s amazing. I love what they all shout at the end of each episode: “Starlight has the might to fight for what’s right!! Yii-Haa!!!”

What swung it with Dad was saving money. Mum reminded him that according to the Tourist Industry’s Regulations he had to have a non-android Safety Officer to watch the monitors, to make sure things didn’t go wrong while the tourists were transmitting.

That was clever of Mum because she knew Dad didn’t want to babysit the monitors. He wanted to transmit as well. Problem was he’d just spent a fortune on the new ship, with all its fantastic technology. That meant he was short of cash so he couldn’t afford to hire another crew member.

I was the ideal solution, Mum said. An unpaid Safety Officer.

I went along with it, just to get on board. Dad didn’t know I was only going with so I could transmit. There were heaps of Earth people I wanted to inhabit for a while.

So off we went. As soon as we were within reach of Earth, the tourists transmitted into the hosts they’d chosen from the enormous catalogue and off went Dad. I was left behind with instructions to make sure the automatic return worked properly and that no one had any unfortunate experiences.

I did watch the monitors. Honestly I did. For ages. Well, about five minutes. Then I got bored and wanted something else to do. So I started tapping a few control buttons. Quite gently. I didn’t realise how sensitive they are. Luckily it only affected Dad. Wasn’t my fault he was accidentally transferred from Julius Caesar in his prime to a turnip. I don’t know what all the fuss was about. He got back to the ship all right in the end, didn’t he? No damage - well, nothing permanent – but you should have heard the way he kept going on about it.

The good thing was that he realised I wasn’t a very reliable Safety Officer. The bad thing was that he over-reacted. “That’s it,” he said, “For the rest of the trip you’ll stay in your room and study. I know you’ve got your Astrophysics exam coming up. This is your chance for some revision.” He even took my Cybervisor away so I couldn’t play games.

Revision isn’t any fun and what made it worse was hearing the tourists talking about what a great time they’d had. They’d transmitted into loads of brilliant people, doing all the things I wanted to do.

Dad’s first experience at transmitting had demoralised him a bit so he put up with staying on board and being Safety Officer instead of me. He sat there in front of the monitors, looking sorry for himself while the customers carried on enjoying themselves.

Eventually he decided to risk another trip himself and that meant reinstating me. “Remember,” he said, “Don’t touch anything. Just watch the monitors and make sure no one gets hurt. I’m trusting you to get it right this time.”

Off they all went again and to begin with I watched the monitors. Then I got my Galaxy Player and watched an episode of Starlight instead – the one where the Captain and his second-in-command interfered to improve history, which is actually illegal, but never mind. Then I found where Dad had hidden my Cybervisor so I played one of my best games.

I suppose I got a bit carried away with the action, because I tripped and fell against the control panel. It wasn’t my fault things went a bit wrong with Dad’s second experience. You have to laugh. Poor old Dad was having a lovely time being a dinosaur, but he didn’t get back fast enough and became extinct. It was only for a little while but he wasn’t half in a temper when he reboarded.

After that he gave all the androids a holiday and put me in charge of laundry and washing up and toilet cleaning. Of course that meant he had to be Safety Officer again, so he was really fed up. But I was even more cheesed off than him, so after a while I said I was going to tell Mum I hadn’t even transmitted once and she would really have a go at him.

“OK,” he said, with an enormous sigh, “I’ll find some Earth people for you to transmit into. Important Earth people.”

I don’t know where he found his definition of “important”.

Other people transmitted to Earth into world leaders, famous campaigners for human rights or champion athletes. Dad sent me into a flea on a dog and I got squirted with spray. And into a worm – five minutes and down came a blackbird and had me for lunch. And Dad’s favourite, repeated several times: a bacterium in a human’s gut. Not much fun, especially once someone discovered antibiotics. Do you know what antibiotics do to bacteria?

It amazes me how long it took my Dad to realise each time that I needed an Emergency Response Initiative. That’s what they activate in Starlight when someone has to be rescued immediately.

After that I decided I’d had enough of bonding with Dad and sent Mum a message. She told Dad he had to let me have one good transmitting session before we set off home. “Right,” he said, “this is your chance. You’re going to transmit into a real hero.”

Off I went, into the middle of the twentieth century. I was a handsome warrior. Everyone loved me. I had a super girlfriend and I was practically winning World War Two on my own. I was really enjoying it. A man with a lot of gold braid pinned a medal on my chest and the girl was just about to give me a smacking great kiss when someone shouted, “CUT” and everyone started wandering off.

Before I could say a word, I was back on the ship, with Dad laughing so much the tears were running down his snout. The tourists were hysterical, falling over their flippers with laughter.

I grabbed Dad. “What happened?”

“For a time there,” he said, smirking, “you were making a film. You were Errol Flynn.”

I was really angry. “Who the galaxy’s Errol Flynn? Just you wait till I tell Mum what you did. You’ve made me look an idiot in front of everyone.”

Dad wants to transmit himself down to England tomorrow into an average human. It’ll be Christmas Eve in their time and he wants to see how Earth people celebrate it. He’s made me promise to watch the monitors carefully, which I will do this time. Honestly I will.

I’ve had a great idea. I’m going to detach one of the transmitting beacons tonight and while Dad’s asleep I’ll activate it next to his bed. I’m going to transmit him into Santa Claus. He’ll be a bit busy, but he’ll be an important part of the festivities. I just hope he doesn’t get stuck in a chimney!

That way I’ll get my revenge, it will give Mum a laugh and Dad will realise I’ve inherited his sense of humour.

Starlight has the might to fight for what’s right!! Yii-Haa!!!