Page 62 of Not That Impossible

“Okay, but don’t you think it’s worth checking the maths again? Can’t hurt, can it? Because it seems ever so slightly unbelievable thatI’mthe problem here, and that taking me out of the equation is going to save the entire battlecruiser, the galaxy, and the human race? You did saysomeof us weren’t going to make it. Not, you know. Just one of us. Just me.”

“And yet this is the situation in which we find ourselves,” Nash said. “Computer simulations, my engineers, and I have all decided that you are expendable. Do you have any final words?”

“Oh my god, please don’t push the button?”

“Humanity thanks you for your sacrifice,” Nash said. “Your name will go down in history. Bon voyage.”

The officers all saluted.

Nash hit the button, venting me out of the airlock and into space.

I took a sip of coffee, and spat it back out. Ugh. It was cold. I touched the other two mugs on my cluttered desk. One of them was still warm. I gave it an experimental swig.

Lukewarm, but drinkable. I sipped it absently as I read over my latest story.

It had started out great.

I was an eager new space recruit, making a name for myself in skirmishes with the evil aliens. I was doing so well that Captain Blake had nominated me for an award.

Summoned to the Commander’s cabin for a medal andlotsof praise, I was flustered and yet thrilled when it was revealed that the Commander was the very same manI had surrendered my virginity to on a space station the night before I reported for duty on the battlecruiserFairford.

So far, so sexy.

And then…what the fuck?

I was supposed to be setting up the scene where Liam confessed that he’d never been the same since he claimed my trembling and nubile body that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about me, he was hard from dawn to dusk, and as soon as he’d lead the Milky Way Alliance to victory over the Bugs, we would marry and explore the universe together.

But instead, he vented me into space?

I closed the file and dragged it straight into the MacBook’s little trash basket.

I pushed back from my desk, gathered up the clutter of coffee mugs, and wandered to the kitchen.

Standing at the sink, I drank two large glasses of water, one after the other. I ate a banana and a handful of nuts, and marched back to the computer.

Enough messing around.

No more Liam Nash fanfic. It was time to get serious.

Mrs Strickland had scooped me and got her breaking-news article published on the website, but you know what?

She could go ahead and keep her breaking news. I was going to write a long investigative article.

If I did a good enough job, I bet I could talk Ralph into printing it. My journalistic career would be out of the gate, and running.

I knew exactly where to start.

Ray worked as an independent graphic designer and he was bound to have a website with contact details for potential clients. I did a quick Google search, found a phone number, and dialled.

It rang a few times before he picked up. “Hello?” he said.

“Hi! Hello, Ray. I mean, Mr Underwood. I’m ringing from theChipping Fairford Inquirer, and I’m writing an article on the discovery —”

“No,” Ray said.

“—of the dead body in your house, and I’d really like it if I could—”

“I’m not interested, sorry.”

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