h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Oh yeah?

I liked Indy 4 (mostly). Even if they did steal Ody/Jamila's escape from the complex from our notes.

Escaping a nuclear detonation inside a fridge was not so much suspending disbelief but dropping it out of plane in a rubber dinghy.

*raises spectacles to bridge of nose and begins re-reading*
Now where were we up to?.....

I believe Ody and Jamila were creating a distraction before they left and Arthur and X had managed to subdue Sreka at the site of the nuke-- err rocket launch.

Ah yes. Arthur and X on board the shuttle. Sreka defeated and enraged. Daltmoore, the TM and Grobsvaughn awaiting lift off. Annabel in full speech flowingness.

New chapter coming up momentarily.

Annabel raised her arms above her head, the wide and dropping cuffs fluttered down in a waft of magisterial haughtiness.

Silence fell across the assembled Cultists gathered in the great hollow chamber beneath her.

Gathering herself she prepared to speak into that empty space with a speech that would have made Cicero blush with inadequate embarrassment.

A brief flicker of that smile; a deep breath; she opened her mouth and let out a deafening a tinny echo followed by three electronic pops fading into a static distance.

Nobody dared say anything. Annabel just continued to stare into the midle distance for a brief moment wondering if she was going mad.

She blinked twice, closed her mouth and swallowed. She'd try again.

Placing both hands on the rail in front of her, she gesticulated wildy with her finger pointing to the rocket and announced in glorious and slightly deafening electronic rasp:
fizzle, ping and then tree hollow thuds, reminiscent to anyone who knew, of somebody tapping on a microphone to see if it is on.

She whirled around to stare murdrously at the assitance langusing off stage who shrugged helplessly.

'what is this?' she shouted. UM.......HELLO IS THIS WORKING? Announced a cacophonous booming voice from out of the speakers dotted around the auditorium.

what is going on? she mouthed silently, as he microphone was now disconnected.
, instead she appeared to say: I AM YOUR GOD.

That got a response. At once the entire room knelt down like a carpet of yogic gymnasts stretched out in abject protestation.

Annabel took a few steps back a gawped like a fish, trying to comprehend what was going wrong. YOU DISAPPOINT ME. she announced.

Annabel reached a decision pointing to one of her advisors she hollered find out where this signal is coming from and cut it off, then send down a team a destroy whoever is doing this!

I"VE TAKEN OVER THIS SOUL TO TELL YOU TO RUN. RUN FAST. MY JUDGEMENT IS COMING.

The entire gathered cult lay out prostrate on the floor.

Annabel realised what was happening she began to waved her arms frantically. Trying to geth them to stand up and look at her.

A few, secretly less than pious cultits, still had their eyes open and were treated to the incredibly odd spectacle of their newly installed Grand master, leaping up and down on the gangway and pulling out her hair screaming at them.

I say she's awfully good at speaking in tongues, isn't she? said one.

Not 'alf, said another.

Get up. Get up. Please get up. Annabel wailed. Can't you see this is a trick!

I SHALL PROVE TO YOU MY POWER WATCH THIS.

"oh Great Pilchard spare your servants lives!" - A great Prayer rose up from the Hall - "will you spare us oh great and exalted pilchard?"

------------------------------------

Jamila was watching proceedings from a monitor that was broadcasting events of the Great hall, naturally all the camera were on anabel and Jamila was feeding back to Ody her movements. Who had the microphone watched into the tannoy system pressed to his lips.

Watching her leap about madly on stage was terrific good fun. She turned to grampling.

'Hit it', Jamila she said.

From a workstation, Grampling stood by a lever, he grabbed it with both hands and pulled it down, shutting off the lighting generator.

The entire complex was plunged into darkness. The humm of the generator powered down, followed by an odd thump and a sigh. In the Great hall there was a cry of terror as the light evaporated and darkness descended, in the sub station Di Gamma Ody waited.

'That should be long enough' said Jamila. Bring it back on line Grampling.

The lever was brought back up, the filaments glowed and Ody looked up to see Andrei Sreka stood behind Jamilla, his hand on the lever and his hand clasped around the deceased grampling's throat. Sreka took a kosh from his belt and brought it back to swing into against Jamila.

Ody was quick. No! he shouted , dropping the microphone and pushed Jamila out of the way, heroiclly taking the kosh to the ribs. He careered into a cart of equipment, yanking out the chord that was plugged into the machinery.

'OW'. He muttered weakly.
------------------------

In the Great hall, the Cultists prayers had been answered. Well sort of. Their lives were forfeit. Their god, for whom they had sacrificed everything, had forsaken them.

With a hiss of static, Annabel's microhphone was restored.

Her people were picking themselves up from the rocky floor and looking to her. for advice.

What is happenign now? she demanded to an underling who had reluctantly joined her on stage. Realising that all eyes were on them he begged a swift a retreat?

'She doesn't know!' someone cried.

'We are doomed!' cried another.

With a moment of horriffic clarity Annabel noted this palce had excellent accustics. There wasn't annoyone present who hadn't heard that: the doubt and the fear.

'launch the shuttle' she whispered.

She turned and looked down the gantry to the assemeld advisors clustered around the door way. 'Launch the shuttle' she said.

Her words carried out far and wide into the hall.

'Blasphemy!' came the cry.

'Yes! Blasphemy!' cried another.

Generations of living inside a mountain in a bitter winter wilderness and brought with it a mental distrust and xenophobia of the outside world. Something Annabel had seen, shared and exploited. What had bouyed them up though was religious ferver. The belief that their Pilchard God was truly divine and on their side. This had now been cruelly undermined.

To launch a machine of human creation into the heavens now seemed to the majority of those gather to be an assault on the heaven itself.

Annabel approached the advisors with a steely and murderous glint in her eyes. 'Launch the shuttle now or I will do it myself!' she hissed.

Members of the old guard and some new idealistic younger cultists looked about at each other. One grey and wrinkled member with the same distinguished gravitas who bore an uncanny resembelence in looks and tone to the actor Geoffrey Palmer was the centre of their longing gazes.

After moments thought he replied, "Detain her." and confiscating the microphone from her lapel.

'What!?' Annabel screeched as she was seized by the arms by the several burly guards who were also present and recognised a shift of political control when they saw one.

"Take her down to the Holding cells." The Elder Cultist announced.

As Annbel was dragged odd and through a door. He remarked: Poor women. The touch of the divine fish has driven her mad."

He pinned the microphone to his own tunic and strode out onto the stage.

Speaking in sombre and rattling tones he said simply. Go to your families and pray.

He came back into the control room and said 'Cancel the launch this effrontery to God cannot continue.'

A technician nodded sombrely, inserted a key into a workstation and a covered button was released, turning the key the pad became active and he depressed the plunger.

Nothing happened.

The countdown clock continued to slice off individual seconds.

"What's is the matter?" said Geoffrey Palmer approaching the technician.

"Er....um... it's not working. The cut off, it should cancel the launch, but it's been disabled."

'Disabled? By whom?' Geoffrey Palmer demanded.

-------------------------------------

Daltmoorby finished re-wiring a complex bit of circuitry that looked like the innards of a telephone exchange and closed the metal door.

He was arranged in his space suit and was in an area just beneath the cockpit where his occultist partner was waiting for him.

The shuttle was now going to launch no mater what. It would soon all be over. Just one last thing to do. He climbed the ladder.

From beneath him through a metal grating, Arthur and X watched him leave.

"What is he doing?" X asked quizzically.

No idea. Arthur replied stoically. But whatever it is we've got to stop him. We need to find some space-suits. He suggested pragmatically.

I think I saw some back her X pointed helpfully.

"Come on, we can't have much time...."

I've made a continuity error. Giving Sreka that much dexterity: I'd forgotten I'd shattered his one arm. I'll amend in the edit to just have grampling laying dead and Sreka poised to strike Jamilla.

Annabel was being led down to the holding cells by, she now realised, several anonymous occultists guards. Moments before they would have done her exact bidding. She was the Grand Master but due to external factors and the same male chauvinistic resentment she'd fought against her entire life, she was out. Well so be it.

There only remained the small matter of escape.

As they came around a corner, entering a long corridor, there appeared at the end the two silver doors of the sub-basement elevator. Annabel she knew this would descended to the lower levels from which getting out would prove impossible.

There was only one option.

"I need a drink." she announced to her two guards at either elbow.

"We'll arrange for one to be brought to your cell." the one said diplomatically.

"No!" Annabel said, pausing to wonder if that sounded a little to desperate, "I mean, look there is a water fountain - just a sip." Again, the calculating pause.... "Please?"

"alright said the other, and they led her over to a sink, these were found fairly commonly through out Alpha Base, Geothermal energy is a dry heat and meltwater was plentiful.
It had been one of Annabel's corporate innovations that had led to the inclusion of paper cup dispensers and straws.

The Guard pressed his foot on the floor plunger, a small dribble of water arced into the air.

Annabel delivered a narrowing of the eyes that would have withered spanners.

"I am your Grand Master, I will not bow before any man, not even to sup water!"

"Use that cup", she demanded and holding up her hands which had been cuffed at the wrist, "and a straw, so that I might drink for myself!" she sniffed indignantly.

Wary but resigned to do as he was told, the young guard collected a paper cup from the dispenser inserted the straw and let the cup fill up two-thirds full and then held it out to her. Hr smile said thank you but her eyes were icy cool., she lowered her head and took the straw in her lips and draw in the water. Swallowing she leant in once more, clenching the straw in her teeth, she raised her head, lifting it out of the cup. she blew as hard as she could expelling her lungs from the controlled breathing she'd been practising ever since she hatched her plan.

The star rebounded off the mirror, and Annabell's reflexes were super-sharp: both hands came up and she palmed the straw between them. Placing one thumb over the end, she twisted left slcing through the air and taking careful aim: she inserted it into the guard's left ear.

As he shuddered and fell, she dropped down low and whirled around catching the other guard off balance with an outstretched leg, sweeping away his ankles. He toppled forward and his head collided with the solid basin of the sink, knocking him out cold.

Surveying the damage, She bent down gracefully and plucked the keys to the cuffs from his belt, and undid them, then cuffed him to the outflow pipe for good measure.

Silently she appaorached the lift, she was only a few levels from her office, the majority of the cult would still be in th audoitorium, there'd be know-one around she'd have unfettered access. She pressed the call button and waited.

The lift arrived with a ding and the doors slid apart.

And Annabel found herself staring into the eyes and flowing red locks of Mary....

Will they fight or pair up, or one then the other is some combination?

I'll leave that one hanging for someone else to pick up on - next stop space....

Daltmooreby's footsteps clanged on the metal rungs of the steps that ascended into the cockpit of the space shuttle.

What was it you were doing down there? Grobsvaughn asked without a shred of suspicion.

"Oh I ..er.. was just checking the relays of the inhibitors that lead to the CPU core."

"And are they are working fine?" Grobsvaughn enquired.

"They are now." Daltmooreby smiled sweetly.

"It won't be long now, Grobsvaughn observed, betraying his anticipation.... "er...I wonder..." he trailed off..."before you sit down and strap in would you mind...um helping me?"

Daltmooreby glanced about wairly. "Sure."

Grobsvauhn reached down into his suit and produce a fold of black cotton fabric.

"This was given to me by my father...not my real father..I just call him that - anyway...um it's to help me fly. I have Vertigo. Not a good condition for a pilot no-one else but him really knows. I believe you to be honourable if aggressive. You should read the ways of the pilchards and consult the runes as I do. They could help soothe your temper. Make you an open and generous spirit I know you to be.

Daltmooteby looked back at him, not sure where this was going.

What I mean is: will you tie it on for me, I'm all fingers and thumbs when it comes to knots. And he placed the handkerchief in daltmooreby open palm.

Daltmooreby was genuinely disturbed by this development.

Grobsvaughn sat back down in the chair and indicated the spot on the back of his head where the knot should go.

Daltmooreby held the cloth outstretched between both hands.
"oh my dear boy, I am so sorry."

It was quick. He reached over in front of Grobsvaughn and brought the handkerchief back in a garrotte across his throat. The astronaut flailed frantically, and then slowly, he faded.

Daltmooreby let out a heavy sigh. and released the cloth. Betraying the cult, even disposing of Sreka, these were all acceptable, but simple murder always left him feeling clammy and uneasy. He let Grobsvaughn's handkerchief drift to the floor.

Being a former member of The Agency; however strained that relation ship had become; something as complex as how to operate a space shuttle single handily was all part of his training. Even so he didn't relish the prospect of riding into the cosmos next to the cooling corpse of his co-pilot.

He unclipped Grobsvaughn from his chair and hoisted him over his shoulders, showing a surprising strength for his age. He walked the fallen cultist down into the corridor that led to the Airlock. There were some storage units here. He pulled open the hinged door and let Grobsvaughn slide uselessly off his shoulders and into the compact unit.

Gazing down somewhat sadly at him, Daltmoorby reached up to a high shelf and removed the black attaché case in which resided the Turquoise Moon diamond. Taking it by his side he closed the door on Grobsvaughn and returned to the cockpit to prepare for the launch which surely only had to be minutes away.

A few moments after he had disappeared from sight. The storage units on the other side of the corridor opened and Arthur and X stepped out, secure in the spare space-suits.

Arthur reached across to the cupboard containing Grobsvaughn, sliding open the door he beheld the slumped and awkward body of the astronaut. Arthur checked for a pulse.

"He's not dead." he said to X mildly surprised.

"Why do you suppose he didn't kill him?"

"I don't know." Arthur replied ruefully.

His thoughts we interrupted by a large the rattling of the shuttle and a low and distant rumble.

"X! Arthur cried above the din urgently "Get back inside and hang onto something - we're taking off!!"

Right. That's yer lot for this weekend.

Hopefully I've managed to resurrect Daltmooreby's ulterior motive in severing the connection with the Cult he is both going to be able to operate independently of them while he completes his real mission, and it is suspicious enough to continue to drive the 'he's just stealing the diamond' plot. His reticence over killing Grobsvaughn however, and the fact that he didn't actually go through with it (why? I've not said) points to the change of direction we're about to put him through and the revelations to Arthur.

I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do do with Sreka, Ody and Jamilla at sub station di-gamma obviously get on the train and leave before the mountain explodes when the laser destabilises the magma chamber. but that's an objective to be reached. The bits in the middle and to hazy for me to do anything with just yet.

And finally Anabel, fatelly undermiend and no one the run amidst a cult that has lost faith in their god and in her. How will her and The Nun fare?

Panic seized the control room.

What do you mean you can't cancel the launch? Geoffrey Palmer paced agitatedly. The do it all the time in Florida!


There's nothing I can do.

Geeoffery Palmer looked up: the countdown clock was marching throgh the final digits to liftoff...

----------------

Meanwhile, taking palce somewhere else in Alpha Complex a soul clinged miserably and in vain to what little life remained it.

The Party and the Power cut hadn't taken these professionals from their posts there are some people who will work through both.

And right now, one of them had their hand inside Friedrich Von Trapp's Chest Cavity trying desperately to restart his heart.


--------------------------

By some weird coinsidence of nature, these two events collided and ran together

Frame by frame, a bulb flashes on, a bulb flashes off. They are a deep electric red and this process is repeated every second and so the numeral on the display resolves itself towards zero.

In the operation theatre; a point rises erratically on a monitor. It is pale green and oscillates, leaving behind a fading contrail of a moment of life expiring. Time slows down but never ceases to pass. Each moment to the next; the line rising and falling; a heart beating a moment in time being born and dying.

The cumulative effect was going to be fatal.

The line rose as breath filled his one functioning lung and his heart convulsed once more, and then dipped again.

Von Trapp breath was strained and hoarse.

His eyes rolled sluggishly in his sockets looking about the room unseeing...

Misty figures hovered over him.
------------------------

In the network of computers a circuit awaits a current. The scene is one of utter stillness. Already , a flow of electrons is heading down the wire like the rush of adrenaline to the heart or a tsnumai luring unseen just off sure. A run-away train about smash into the sidings - but it hasn't reached here yet an interchange at the heart of a computer terminal. Seconds can be divided into micro seconds and further still, until time no longer seemed to exist, the inert conducting metal waits anticipating nothing.

No sound, no warning just the moment when the circuit changed from open to closed.

Then surge of energy courses through it, a switch switches, a message sent.

Ignition was underway.

---------------
A light blooms underneath the rockets boosters, followed by a shimmering haze of intense heat and then fire. A roaring gushing flame that becomes fiercly focussed making the entire shuttle and scaffold shake violently.

Gravity is about to be defeated, forces are growing in opposition. The Planet's grip on this tiny metal frame is about to be torn loose.
-----------------------

"B.P's dropping" a voice called out.

Pulse is erratic."

The green line dipped one last time, Von Trapp exhaled, his eyes already paler, and then the line moved no more amidst the monotonal wailing of various instruments.

"Time?" someone asked.

But Von Trapp had none left.
---------------

The shuttle hovered for an instant of equillibrium as gravity fought and then finally accepted defeat. Slowly, imperceptably and then faster and more visibly the rocket began to lift off. Leaving the Earth behind and carrying Von Trapp's soul with it.

Smoke blossmed out from the launch pad and the noise echoed in an ear-drum shredding boom around the ancient rock walls.

Driven upward on collums of flame, the rocket rose upward toward the open dome of Mount Terror.

The Timer stood idle on a rocky outcrop - the display was no longer lit.

-------------------

The Rocket exited the volcano's crater rim with a thunderous roar and was immediately rocked by the gale of the blizzard outside.

Cape Canaveral would have been horriffied.

Housten would have had an embolism.

but The Cult had been ambitious and nothing ventured nothing

Above the rocket, the aurora australis was in full bloom: a green shimmering fog that hung in the sky and stretched across the horizon like ribbons of icy fog.

The Sun had long since sunk below the horizon.
From a distance the rocket was a brilliant, rising star that was arcing ever upwards in sweeping curve.

A cluster of snowy penguins raised their heads against the bitter wind to watch it's flight; something vestigal perhaps taking note in their avian brain, perhaps not.

----------------------
A franatic beeping interrupted an otherwise normal hubub in an office.

Not a normal office, however. There were lots of uniforms milling around, pips and shoulder badges rubbed shoulders so to speak.

The hubub squeaked into an eerie, stunned silence and someone dropped a coffee-mug.

"What is that?" they asked between themselves

"er....um..it's the old missile tracking station." a chair was wheeled closer, headphones placed over ears. a radar screen was follwing a pulsating blob across the sky.

"Have the soviets launched?" a panic crept into someone's voice.

"checking..." the figure pressed the headset to their ears

"No...it's not the soviets"

"Thank God."

"That's strange."

"What? What is it?"

The Blob had vanished.

"It just left the Earth's atmosphere It's not a missile. Last known co-ordinates....it...came from the South Pole....sir."

A red telephone leapt into life. Everyone jumped.

A senior figure possessing a Sam Browne stripe and a bushy white moustache, approached the desk.

The General took it off the cradle. "Yes?" he spoke into the receiver.

"General - this is The Agency" said Guy, "We are monitoring it too. How swiftly can the general staff be assembled?"

"Were you running an operation at The South pole?" the general asked hurridly.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it, I'll debrief toyou in person in 20 minutes."

Guy rung off.

The General hung up and looked at his staff - and they looked back at him, questioning, afraid.

Clearly something important had just happened - and it had taken the world completly by surprise.
---------------------

Von Trapp was standing in a void. In extended before him and away from him, above and below.

"Where am I?" he called out an flapped his medical gown experimentally. Wearing so little he expected to be cold but he was not. There was more. He had expected his voice to echo, the cacophonous repetition, so it came as something of a shock to him when it did not. Rather his voice was swallowed up by the emptiness of what surrounded him.

He was afraid now , it had been a long time since he last felt that, usually he was on the other end of terror. He reflected on this thought, the memory of power and dominion, a slow smile crept to his lips.

But where had it gone? Where was he? The memory faded.

"Where am I?" Von Trapp raised his voice and called out into the darkness.

This time something called back.

YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME?

The voice was loud, and yet not, it filled the space but was not deafening it simply WAS.

This was some sort of test. Well Von Trapp had survived enough of those and always triumphed.

"I've lived...a good life," he prompted

YOU LIE

WHAT IS YOUR NAME, SOUL?

Von Trapp...Friedrich Von Trapp.

YOUR DESTINY IS YOUR OWN. NOW, DECLARE YOUR INNOCENCE.

From the depths of is childhood on the run with the nanny, Von Trapp remembered her funny litle rituals where he'd first learnt about the Gods of old. There was a catechism, a ritual...now what was it? He'd studied it in temple, but he'd been good at what he did, out in the world away from the cult...bad habits had crept in, the certainty and habits of youth had long since faded.

"I..um... have not robbed, nor coveted items to steal." he started and faltered. The rest was indistinct and hazy.

AND OF OTHERS - HOW DO OTHERS JUDGE YOU?

Von Trapp reflected proudly on a criminal career of extortion and blackmail, of the worst kinds of malign intent and even murder.

"Carefully - if they know what good for them."

HAVE YOU SINNED?

"No, I've led a good life." lying was a habit that was hard to break even now.

WE CAN SEE YOUR LIFE - IT LIES BEHIND YOU - YOUR FUTURE LIES BEFORE YOU. IT IS TO BE WEIGHTED.

Do your worst I'm not believer

AND DO YOU WORSHIP NO GODS BEFORE US?

"Us?" who is us?" Von Trapp called back. Show yourself to me. I demand it!

The Darkness looked back at Von Trapp - and he realised that he was not staring at an infinite blackness but rather something that was black and very large.

Before him rose up a jackal head it had been bowed before, and now it was filling the space, his reflection was a mote in but one of it's jewel-set eyes, burning rubies, blazing stones of judgment.

I AM ANUBIS.

Von Trapp was awe-struck in spite of himself.

THIS IS THE HALL OF TWO TRUTHS.

AND YOU WILL ANSWER FOR YOU LIFE.

Von Trapp could see illuminated in a shaft of golden light behind the jackal head was a mirage of colour that took on the the form of a set of golden scales.

The God Anubis reached into Von Trapp and plucked out his heart.

Von Trapp watched in mute horror as the fleshy congealed organ was lifted and carried to the scales by the talon of Anubis.

There was no pain, the Jackal had simply removed it from his chest.

On one side, lay the feather of Maat, Anubis held Von Trapp's heart above the scale, overseen by a figure with an Ibis head and surrounded by the glow of the moon.

The moon figure said....you LIFE IS WEIGHED AND FOUND TO BE

Anubis placed Von Trapp's Heart onto the scales which almost immediately upended as thought carrying lead cannonballs.

WANTING. Anubis replied. TRIBUNAL - YOUR VERDICT ON THIS ONE?

Von Trapp looked up and saw high above the figure of Anubis a semi-circle of 42 pairs of eyes, orange and fearsome open like slits and all of them gazed into the depths of his existence.

OBLIVION was the unanimous reply.

And then he was alone....alone in the void...shrunken, hollow, empty and alone.... Eventually the weight of the void consumed him and Friedrich Von Trapp was no more.

the display was no longer lit....

A nurse drew a sheet over Von Trapp's face

-----

the rocket...

I've decided that the post with Sreka was a mistake so I'm scrubbing that and re-writing it to focus on Ody and Jamila and keep Sreka in the shadows until I need him.

I'm afraid I've completely lost track, so I'll bow to your greater wisdom.

How much more can there be to write?

I felt a lot younger when we started writing this!

There's not much left to do. The bit I'm really stuck on and could do with some help with since my inspiration for this bit is low is the confrontation between Mary and Annabel, I'm literally not sure what to do with it. (see 1668)

Everything with Sreka/Ody Arthur/X/Daltmooreby I reckon I can handle but of course will welcome your input.


Still to do:

Ody and Jamilla escape

Arthur and Daltmooreby discuss Daltmooreby's secret mission.

Daltmooreby reveals his double agent status but also his decision to destroy the agency anyway.

Arthur has to stop him. (in weightless slow-mo action)

The laser misfires (Because Daltmooreby installed the fake diamond) and eliminates the cult's base in Antarctica.

Daltmooreby dies (or does he?)

The laser explodes.

Grobsvaughn dies and goes to Egyptian paradise.

Arthur and X return to Earth.

Arthur and Anna are reunited, Arthur retires. X leaves.

That's about it. (and glad I'm not talking to myself)

Grampling, the reluctant cultist, hovered patiently over a box of fuses snaking with grips and connecting wires like a gadfly of electrical geekishness. He had suffered under the harsh regime of the cult for so long tampering with the communications system was an enormous amount of fun.

He produced another connecting cable, and prising the jaws open secured it onto the terminal node and gave a small squeak of delight when it fizzed and crackled.

I think that's the fluctuation sorted. he said.

Ody pressed the button to talk and pressed the microphone to his lips

I SHALL PROVE TO YOU MY POWER! hamming it up dreadfully.

A noise crept into audibility
There was a rising tonal whine coming from the generator and a general clattering as it rose of the ground and began to shake and shudder.

'It's overloading!' Grampling cried. 'I was afraid of this.'

Grampling reached for the breaker to sever the connection...

"If I can just - "

FZZZT!

The station was plunged into an inky darkness that lasted a narratively significant number of seconds; followed by a gentle odour of sausages.

"Oh no." Jamila's disembodied voice said out of the dark.

Ody dropped the microphone which clattered on the floor. "Is he...?"

Above him the overhead lghts flickered on as somewhere an emergency generator fired up and re-routed power, illuminating his worried looks and furrowed brow.

...Dead?"

Smoke was gently rising off of Grampling's prone body and he lay ominously still, sprawled out at the foot of the pillar where the discharge of electricity had thrown him.

'We've got one chance.' Jamila said, running over to him and starting chest compressions with ruthless efficiency.

That's my re-write of the original ody/jamilla scene from in between Annabel being dragged of stage by fundamentalist cultist Geoffrey Palmer.

I figure Sreka snuck into sub-station Digamma under the darkness that occurred when the generator fried poor Grampling, and we can reveal him when we need to scare Ody and Jamilla (preferably once they are on board the train leaving Antarctica and have no-where to escape to.)

Hmm... hmm... I'll have to think methinks...

I want to do something silly with a pub (linking back to the beginning of st3)... but I suspect that's not really going to fit... or maybe...hmm