Perivale and Elsewhere
Perivale, London: 1987
If she'd left work half a tick earlier or trudged home half a klick faster, Ace might've walked bang into her mum outside their flat. Staring up at the stars as she was tonight, eyes on that one cloud-free patch of sky above instead of the pavement in front of her, she certainly wouldn't have seen Audrey coming. No ducking down the alley as she usually would to avoid hearing about drinks with whatever his name was this week, and how there were fish fingers and pizza puffs in the freezer if she hadn't picked up dinner at the cafe.
Who wouldn't walk home looking up at the stars, thinking there had to be something up there better than this? Comets and supernovas. Dust clouds the size of planets, dust that sparkled in the light of some other sun, instead of just streaking the blank, gray windows of the shops on what passed for a high street in Perivale. Spaceships, maybe, bigger and better and faster than the shuttles that hadn't got anybody on this planet farther than the moon. Aliens! The friendly sort with light-up fingertips or razor-tooth ones that would burst out of your chest in a shower of blood as soon as look at you; Ace wasn't fussed which.
Any of it was better than here, with a mum who was never home, a social service worker whose life would be easier if Ace would just screw up enough to really get arrested this time because then he could ignore her full-stop instead of just when she talked, and a thousand do-this-don't-do-that-you-could-do-so-much-betters from anybody over twenty who bothered to acknowledge her existence.
But she had left work late, on account of Barry and his do-this-don't-do-that on the proper reaction to a two-cent tip, which was apparently not 'Follow the customers out and shout STINGY MIDDLE-CLASS WANKERS after them in the street' if you wanted to still have a job tomorrow. She had stomped slowly down the kerb, hands balled in her jacket, boots kicking at leaves, because sod him; she'd gone to school with those kids, when she still went to school. She knew what their dads drove and their mums wore, and knew they could afford to leave her more than two pennies and a table full of crumpled straw wrappers, spilled salt and cold chips to remember them by.
So the flat was empty when she finally made it home, tonight's one-sided conversation with her mother scrawled on the back of a take-away menu tucked under the door-knocker instead of replied to aloud with a grunt. Dorry, it started, but Ace hadn't been that since she was thirteen years old, and Back by ten, it said, but she wouldn't be; it was half nine now, and....wait. Half nine? Ace was running late!
For her chemistry experiment, not dinner. Fish fingers would wait; that gelignite in the flask on her nightstand should've been pulled out of the water bath an hour ago. The place wouldn't burn down because she'd left a tea-warmer going while she was gone, but supplies were expensive on a waitress' wage and two-cent tips. Wasn't like she could just nick things from the lab at school anymore. "Hope it's not evaporated again," she muttered as she rushed for her bedroom, rucksack slamming against her back.
Not exactly, no. A spark from the lockplate? A change in the air pressure? A butterfly beating its wings in Tangiers?
When she opened the door and everything went BOOOOOOOOOM!!, Ace didn't really care. She only got as far as shouting, "WICK--" before the wind and the noise and the colors and the moving somewhere faster than light stole her breath entirely away.
Iceworld, Svartos: Galaxies And Centuries Away
The "--ed...." came out muffled, her body in a painful sprawl, jammed face-down against the cold, dirty metal of the Iceworld receiving dock.
"What's that? You can't lie about down here, you know." The man's voice was an impossible combination of impatient and ingratiating, like he hadn't decided yet whether she was worth being nice to or not. "I've got product to move."
Ace pried her eyes open in time to catch a booted foot, dirty as the floor, prodding her arm. "I said... wicked," she repeated weakly, rolling onto her side to look up at him.
Curly hair, bright eyes, patterns shaved into the sides of his beard. Iridescent shirt tied off with some weird metallic sash, and tucked into that, a... wand or a gun or a stick? Ace couldn't tell; her head hurt so much that every time she blinked, there were two of him.
"You're just a sprog!" The man's voice got the tiniest touch softer, and he stopped prodding, reached instead to haul her up by the shoulders, not terribly gently. "What're you doing down here on the docks? It's no place for kids."
"Get off; I'm not a kid!" Ace shook herself free, and managed not to fall over. Just. "I can take care of myself!" Really. "...Where am I?"
Hands up and eyes rolling, the man took a step back. "The docks, like I said. Did you hit your head?"
"Probably. What docks? Perivale doesn't have any; I can't've been blown clear to Greenford."
"Periwhat?" What looked like understanding took a moment to dawn on the man's face, turning quickly to a sucked-a-sour-fizz wince. "Oh, eight hells. Get away from my ship before somebody starts saying Sabalom Glitz is smuggling in stowaways; that's all I need." He shook his head and tapped the looming metal structure above him.
Ship? That wasn't a boat, it was... maybe she did have a concussion?
"All the places to hitch a ride to and you had to pick Iceworld?" the man -- what kind of name was Glitz -- banged on. "They only like visitors with spending cash here, my lovely."
"Ice...world?"
"Iceworld, Svartos. Biggest freezer sales and trading colony this side of... anyplace sane people who didn't want to buy a freezer or sell a load of cargo obtained through utterly legal means would ever want to visit. What, did you sleep through all the stops at habitable planets, kid?"
"I said I'm not a kid!" she growled. "I'm Ace." Then she tracked one word back, and a humanoid face never went from thunderclouds to puppies wrapped in rainbows that fast in known history, unless ice cream or sex was involved, which sadly no and dear God, no, in that order. "Planets? I'm on another planet?"
"If you can call it that."
"ACE!" She really shouldn't have cheered; it made her ears ring and the ground go all wobbly.
Apparently it made Glitz' ears ring too, from the way he covered them and the face he made. "So you said. Well, you're not getting a lift off this rock with me; I've got business to do. Best find yourself a job and a place to sleep, and fast, before somebody here finds both for you."
"What's wrong with that? Sounds great!" She was on another planet. Anything sounded great. Ace reached down to scoop up her rucksack; slinging it back over her shoulders hurt, but in that good didn't-get-blown-to-smithereens way.
"Kane's people don't take kindly to transients; if you're lucky they'd press-gang you into a cleaning crew, if not, enjoy your armed escort to the nearest airlock." Here came the sliver of softness again, this time in his eyes, but Ace was in too good of a mood to glare at him for it. "Try the Frozen Oasis; Eisenstein's always moaning he can't keep staff."
"Right." Wherever and whatever that was; sounded exciting, anyway. "Thanks." She didn't even manage to make it come out sulky.
"Bet you five grotzits you'll take that back inside of a month."
Ace shook her head. A month on an alien space station? He had to be mental!
Iceworld, Svartos: Galaxies, Centuries, and Six Months Away
"Ace! What did I tell you about being polite to the customers?"
"Come on, Eyes. Did you see what that orangutan did on my table?"
"Mister Eisenstein to you, and that 'orangutan,' whatever that might be, is a senior mission specialist with Antreidan Intelligence, and --"
"And what? Spewing up green goblin guts on the table before you leave is considered a compliment in his culture? I'll remember that for next time."
"Just clean it up, and no more of your lip if you want there to be a next time."
Ace waited until the manager was retreating behind his counter to shoot two fingers at his back. Then she sighed and reached for the tea towel tucked into her apron.
"Here, sprog, get me a refill before you go near that mess. Don't want that smell coming over here."
Oooh, someone she could be as rude as she liked to without the boss giving a toss. "Get stuffed, Glitz. I'm not stupid. No refills til you pay for the first one."
After a bit of digging in his pockets, a sly -- and by now far too familiar -- smile snaked aross his lips. "You do still owe me five grotzits, you know..."
Apparently there were things you could say even to Sabalom Glitz that would get you sent home without pay for the day if you said them in public. Who knew?
Besides Ace, now.
And now? Now that she'd stomped her way back to her tiny staff quarters and was glaring balefully at the arrangement of beakers, flasks, and tubes set up in the one tidyish corner? Now she cared if it had been a spark or a stray bit of chip grease on her hand or a butterfly in Tangiers or something in the formula itself that had BOOOOOMED her across space and time.
Because hell if she was staying here.
Maybe a higher concentration of gelignite this time?
Iceworld, Svartos: Galaxies, Centuries, Six Months And Ten Minutes Away
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!]
[OOC: NFI, obviously, but OOC is brill, ace, and other things the BBC thought London teenagers actually said in the 80's.]
If she'd left work half a tick earlier or trudged home half a klick faster, Ace might've walked bang into her mum outside their flat. Staring up at the stars as she was tonight, eyes on that one cloud-free patch of sky above instead of the pavement in front of her, she certainly wouldn't have seen Audrey coming. No ducking down the alley as she usually would to avoid hearing about drinks with whatever his name was this week, and how there were fish fingers and pizza puffs in the freezer if she hadn't picked up dinner at the cafe.
Who wouldn't walk home looking up at the stars, thinking there had to be something up there better than this? Comets and supernovas. Dust clouds the size of planets, dust that sparkled in the light of some other sun, instead of just streaking the blank, gray windows of the shops on what passed for a high street in Perivale. Spaceships, maybe, bigger and better and faster than the shuttles that hadn't got anybody on this planet farther than the moon. Aliens! The friendly sort with light-up fingertips or razor-tooth ones that would burst out of your chest in a shower of blood as soon as look at you; Ace wasn't fussed which.
Any of it was better than here, with a mum who was never home, a social service worker whose life would be easier if Ace would just screw up enough to really get arrested this time because then he could ignore her full-stop instead of just when she talked, and a thousand do-this-don't-do-that-you-could-do-so-much-betters from anybody over twenty who bothered to acknowledge her existence.
But she had left work late, on account of Barry and his do-this-don't-do-that on the proper reaction to a two-cent tip, which was apparently not 'Follow the customers out and shout STINGY MIDDLE-CLASS WANKERS after them in the street' if you wanted to still have a job tomorrow. She had stomped slowly down the kerb, hands balled in her jacket, boots kicking at leaves, because sod him; she'd gone to school with those kids, when she still went to school. She knew what their dads drove and their mums wore, and knew they could afford to leave her more than two pennies and a table full of crumpled straw wrappers, spilled salt and cold chips to remember them by.
So the flat was empty when she finally made it home, tonight's one-sided conversation with her mother scrawled on the back of a take-away menu tucked under the door-knocker instead of replied to aloud with a grunt. Dorry, it started, but Ace hadn't been that since she was thirteen years old, and Back by ten, it said, but she wouldn't be; it was half nine now, and....wait. Half nine? Ace was running late!
For her chemistry experiment, not dinner. Fish fingers would wait; that gelignite in the flask on her nightstand should've been pulled out of the water bath an hour ago. The place wouldn't burn down because she'd left a tea-warmer going while she was gone, but supplies were expensive on a waitress' wage and two-cent tips. Wasn't like she could just nick things from the lab at school anymore. "Hope it's not evaporated again," she muttered as she rushed for her bedroom, rucksack slamming against her back.
Not exactly, no. A spark from the lockplate? A change in the air pressure? A butterfly beating its wings in Tangiers?
When she opened the door and everything went BOOOOOOOOOM!!, Ace didn't really care. She only got as far as shouting, "WICK--" before the wind and the noise and the colors and the moving somewhere faster than light stole her breath entirely away.
Iceworld, Svartos: Galaxies And Centuries Away
The "--ed...." came out muffled, her body in a painful sprawl, jammed face-down against the cold, dirty metal of the Iceworld receiving dock.
"What's that? You can't lie about down here, you know." The man's voice was an impossible combination of impatient and ingratiating, like he hadn't decided yet whether she was worth being nice to or not. "I've got product to move."
Ace pried her eyes open in time to catch a booted foot, dirty as the floor, prodding her arm. "I said... wicked," she repeated weakly, rolling onto her side to look up at him.
Curly hair, bright eyes, patterns shaved into the sides of his beard. Iridescent shirt tied off with some weird metallic sash, and tucked into that, a... wand or a gun or a stick? Ace couldn't tell; her head hurt so much that every time she blinked, there were two of him.
"You're just a sprog!" The man's voice got the tiniest touch softer, and he stopped prodding, reached instead to haul her up by the shoulders, not terribly gently. "What're you doing down here on the docks? It's no place for kids."
"Get off; I'm not a kid!" Ace shook herself free, and managed not to fall over. Just. "I can take care of myself!" Really. "...Where am I?"
Hands up and eyes rolling, the man took a step back. "The docks, like I said. Did you hit your head?"
"Probably. What docks? Perivale doesn't have any; I can't've been blown clear to Greenford."
"Periwhat?" What looked like understanding took a moment to dawn on the man's face, turning quickly to a sucked-a-sour-fizz wince. "Oh, eight hells. Get away from my ship before somebody starts saying Sabalom Glitz is smuggling in stowaways; that's all I need." He shook his head and tapped the looming metal structure above him.
Ship? That wasn't a boat, it was... maybe she did have a concussion?
"All the places to hitch a ride to and you had to pick Iceworld?" the man -- what kind of name was Glitz -- banged on. "They only like visitors with spending cash here, my lovely."
"Ice...world?"
"Iceworld, Svartos. Biggest freezer sales and trading colony this side of... anyplace sane people who didn't want to buy a freezer or sell a load of cargo obtained through utterly legal means would ever want to visit. What, did you sleep through all the stops at habitable planets, kid?"
"I said I'm not a kid!" she growled. "I'm Ace." Then she tracked one word back, and a humanoid face never went from thunderclouds to puppies wrapped in rainbows that fast in known history, unless ice cream or sex was involved, which sadly no and dear God, no, in that order. "Planets? I'm on another planet?"
"If you can call it that."
"ACE!" She really shouldn't have cheered; it made her ears ring and the ground go all wobbly.
Apparently it made Glitz' ears ring too, from the way he covered them and the face he made. "So you said. Well, you're not getting a lift off this rock with me; I've got business to do. Best find yourself a job and a place to sleep, and fast, before somebody here finds both for you."
"What's wrong with that? Sounds great!" She was on another planet. Anything sounded great. Ace reached down to scoop up her rucksack; slinging it back over her shoulders hurt, but in that good didn't-get-blown-to-smithereens way.
"Kane's people don't take kindly to transients; if you're lucky they'd press-gang you into a cleaning crew, if not, enjoy your armed escort to the nearest airlock." Here came the sliver of softness again, this time in his eyes, but Ace was in too good of a mood to glare at him for it. "Try the Frozen Oasis; Eisenstein's always moaning he can't keep staff."
"Right." Wherever and whatever that was; sounded exciting, anyway. "Thanks." She didn't even manage to make it come out sulky.
"Bet you five grotzits you'll take that back inside of a month."
Ace shook her head. A month on an alien space station? He had to be mental!
Iceworld, Svartos: Galaxies, Centuries, and Six Months Away
"Ace! What did I tell you about being polite to the customers?"
"Come on, Eyes. Did you see what that orangutan did on my table?"
"Mister Eisenstein to you, and that 'orangutan,' whatever that might be, is a senior mission specialist with Antreidan Intelligence, and --"
"And what? Spewing up green goblin guts on the table before you leave is considered a compliment in his culture? I'll remember that for next time."
"Just clean it up, and no more of your lip if you want there to be a next time."
Ace waited until the manager was retreating behind his counter to shoot two fingers at his back. Then she sighed and reached for the tea towel tucked into her apron.
"Here, sprog, get me a refill before you go near that mess. Don't want that smell coming over here."
Oooh, someone she could be as rude as she liked to without the boss giving a toss. "Get stuffed, Glitz. I'm not stupid. No refills til you pay for the first one."
After a bit of digging in his pockets, a sly -- and by now far too familiar -- smile snaked aross his lips. "You do still owe me five grotzits, you know..."
Apparently there were things you could say even to Sabalom Glitz that would get you sent home without pay for the day if you said them in public. Who knew?
Besides Ace, now.
And now? Now that she'd stomped her way back to her tiny staff quarters and was glaring balefully at the arrangement of beakers, flasks, and tubes set up in the one tidyish corner? Now she cared if it had been a spark or a stray bit of chip grease on her hand or a butterfly in Tangiers or something in the formula itself that had BOOOOOMED her across space and time.
Because hell if she was staying here.
Maybe a higher concentration of gelignite this time?
Iceworld, Svartos: Galaxies, Centuries, Six Months And Ten Minutes Away
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!]
[OOC: NFI, obviously, but OOC is brill, ace, and other things the BBC thought London teenagers actually said in the 80's.]