Sput-Nik• Show stories

Nikolaus stared at the blank storywrite page before him. What was he to write? He was never very fond of writing these, because, once you had a good idea, and wrote it down, since you were writing about yourself, that idea soon changed. He scratched his head, and brushed his hair out of his face. It was a hot, humid day outside, and it was 6: 45 PM. The humidity was not helping him think. How could one think in weather like this? How could one do ANYTHING?
He decided that he may as well write about his literary interests, so he listed his favorite genres. He listed fantasy, history, comedy, science fiction, and would have said romance, but had never actually read a book entirely about romance. Romance usually fetched up in other genres.
He wiped his face in the heat. What more could he say? He was writing plenty of books at the moment, it was just that, well, he wasn't quite sure how storywrite really worked, and didn't want to risk putting all his stories on-line yet.
...
Thunder rumbled. It wasn't surprising really. Thunder usually came at the end of a humid day, and today had been especially humid. There were a couple of distant booms, and Nikolaus looked up from his desk, to look for lightening. He thought he saw a faint flicker, but nothing dramatic. A distant rumble began, booming and muttering like a agitated old grandfather. A small plane flew over, on it's way to the local airport. The rumble continued. Slowly, almost unnoticeable at first, it got louder and louder. Suddenly, with a deafening roar the rumble reached a ear pounding shrieking crescendo. Windows rattled in their panes, plants shook in the garden, and items in Nikolaus' room threatened to jump into the air. Lightening seemed to crackle down, striking the garden with explosions like that of an artillery barrage. He clung to his desk, shouting for help, and, well, generally shouting.
Suddenly a shadow fell over the house. A huge shadow, and Nikolaus felt the pressure of something massive pass over. Then he saw it. The enormous bulk of an airship, an enormous zeppelin, rumbled over. The thunder began to subside, and Nikolaus watched in shock as the huge red and grey airship, with the aid of swiveling- what looked like elegant rocket boosters- it positioned itself parallel to the house, above the lake at the end of the garden. Pontoons silently swiveled out of the sides of the airship's bulky compartment below,and the airship quietly landed on the lake, the only sound being the evaporating water as the 'rocket boosters' slowly folded back up.  
He stared. As the steam cleared he saw a man standing atop what could be called a ship's bridges at the front of the airship's compartment underneath, below it's rippling gas filled cigar shaped balloon above.
The man was dressed in heavy black clothes, and he removed a pair of flying goggles, and stared directly at Nikolaus. He shouted something inaudible into the decks below him, and this was met with a reply. Nikolaus stared at the man. Beneath his great coat two pistols were sidled. This didn't look good. With a hum of a motor starting a panel in the side of the airship moved out and up, revealing an open door behind. Out of the door slid a gangplank, and standing atop it were two- what looked like soldiers- clutching rifles, dressed in red uniforms, and wearing tricorn hats. There were two other men, both dressed in black, with a layer of white clothes beneath. One man was clean shaved and young looking, with his long black hair tied into a ponytail behind him. The other man looked older, and sported a red beard, and not so much hair. They looked very Georgian, thought Nikolaus later. Though right then he was terrified.
The gangplank struck the shore, and the four men strode off, and across the garden, towards Nikolaus. The walked smartly, quickly, and purposefully The advanced up the garden steps, and stopped in front of Nikolaus.
"Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty? I'm not anyones majesty! Who are you? What do you want?"

The younger man, who looked slightly older than Nikolaus, stepped forward.

"But, surely you remember me? I am Vailian, your brother!"

The older man put up his hand, and Vailian went quiet.

"Hush Vailian. He seems to have forgotten. We shall restore his memories in time. Now," he turned to face Nikolaus, "Your Highness, we must hurry!"

"Hurry? Where? On board your airship? So you can restore... my... BRAINWASH me! Who are you? What do you want?"

The older man looked worried now.

"My prince, we must go! NOW!", he looked around at the sky, "It is unsafe here!"

Before Nikolaus could reply, the sky above the lake and behind the zeppelin suddenly was filled with a bright red plume, like a blood red firework being set off in slow motion. Suddenly that plume was joined by another, and then another, silently pluming in the sky.

"Oh No!" groaned Vailian, "They are already here! Please Nikolaus, my prince, we must flee. There's not much time! 

"What is that?", shouted Nikolaus, pointing a trembling hand and the sky, which was slowly being torn in two, "What did you do to the sky?"

"That we did not do, your majesty. That is a split in the very fabric of time, created by our enemies. Our temporal rift is actually on the other side of your house. It's always safer to open those things above land." explained Vailian.

The man was getting frantic now, and he picked a small copper looking device, and began to shout orders into it;

"Vice Corporal Azvogal, get a wing of hornets in here! We seem to be having trouble!"

"Orders received Lord Timon! Hornets on their way!" crackled the reply.

With a roar of suffering engines five- what looked like bi-planes, yet were utterly different- flew over the house. As Nikolaus stared at the aircraft which flew with speed towards the bloody scar in the sky, a black blob seemed to materialise in the rifts centre.

Lord Timon placed a hand on his head and groaned again.

"Oh no! Here comes one already! Your Majesty, we must leave now!"

"What? Are you crazy? What is going on!"

A voice crackled over the small copper device; "We're in luck, it's just a scout!"

In the distance Nikolaus saw muzzle flashes, and seconds later her the sounds of gun shots. Lord Timon turned to Nikolaus;

"There is probably some law against this, but seeing as you refuse to cooperate, your majesty, I am sorry."

His hand shot out, and squeezed a pressure point of Nikolaus' neck, causing him to collapse, and therefore was unable to even finish the last senta-