I'm back with another entry for the Spaceships, Vampires and Very Secret Agents Monthly Writing Challenge! This months subject is Christmas, so here goes...
Christmas!
Our story starts 2.9 billion years ago on the edge of the Solar System where two asteroids are rapidly closing on each other. For the previous billion or so years their orbits had seen them pass like distant ships in the endless night perturbing each others orbits just slightly on each distant encounter, but now had come the time of their union. They collided in soundless destruction scattering debris in all directions.
One chunk headed towards the Sun, but would never reach it.
It is now December 7th 2017 and a Boeing 767-200F cargo plane is sat on the apron at Beijing airport. It had been due to depart for the UK that morning but had 'gone technical' developing a fault in a generator which meant it would have to stay where it was until a repair team with the replacement parts arrived, undertook the repairs and signed the work off as safe to fly. The repair team were busy elsewhere and the flight crew would just have to wait.
This was nothing new to them, in fact five previous flights had 'gone technical' on them; unfortunately they'd all been in the air at the time resulting in terrifying landings. Other flight crew considered them to be cursed and wouldn't fly with them that's why the three of them stuck together as a team. A cursed team. They consisted of two ex-fighter pilots who made up the cockpit crew and a grizzled load-master who sported a long (non-regulation) beard and a gaudy flight suit he'd 'acquired' (stolen) from a Red Arrows display pilot.
It wasn't until the 15th that the repair team arrived and set to work. The aircraft had been loaded with approximately one and a half tonnes of teddies and plushies so the crew were anxious to get airborne to deliver the cargo before Christmas. But the repair team had brought the wrong parts. They arrived back on the 20th with the right parts and set to work. Slowly. Finally on Christmas Eve the work was finished, tested and signed off. In the early hours of Christmas day the crew boarded their aircraft and prepared to leave. They kicked the tyres and lit the fires and were soon rolling down runway 18R and heading for the UK a mere ten hours away.
The Kent village of Broughton Green was one of those places that looked like it was actually a Miss Marple set frozen in time in the 1950s, all twee thatched cottages and climbing roses. One of these chocolate-box cottages was called Bluebell End and was the home of 4 year old Edward Cunningham.
Since October the TV had pummelled Edward with ads and programmes about how marvellous Christmas was going to be this year. Santa was everywhere reminding him that the 'holidays are coming' and advertising the toys his parents should buy for him. Cartoons showed him what Santa's arrival early on Christmas morning would be like - a jolly red-faced, bearded man wearing a red suit, in a sleigh pulled through the sky by magical reindeer and wherever the sleigh went a magical sparkly trail would follow. Edward was four - he soaked it all up like sponge.
By Christmas Eve Edward was so excited he couldn't have been more wired had he just done two lines of coke. His parents kept him up three hours past his usual bed-time in order to tire him out and thankfully it seemed to work and when his parents checked on him later he was asleep. But not for long.
Just after midnight he awoke and his first thought was to look out of his window to see if he could see Santa's sleigh. He scanned the clear, crisp sky but saw only a few of the brightest stars and the blinking lights of airliners on approach to the airports around London. He watched and waited but no Santa. His eyes scanned left to right, up and down. He was about to get back into bed when from the east a thought he saw something twinkling. He did, but it wasn't twinkling, it was sparkling and now he could see the magical sparkly trail he'd been desperate to see. It was Santa's sleigh and it was heading right towards him!
Unfortunately, Edward could not have been more wrong.
Remember that chunk of rock from the start of our story? Well, after meandering between the planets for millennia it had now come under the influence of the Earth's gravitational field and was approaching the atmosphere at about 25,000mph. As it got closer to the Earth its point of impact could be discerned; roughly halfway between the Netherlands and the UK. Thankfully it was going to fall harmlessly into the sea. Unless something got in its way. Like a Boeing 767 cargo plane on its way to Heathrow.
At 20,000 feet above the English Channel approaching UK the Boeing crew were in contact with ATC and were running through their final checks before descending into the holding pattern around Heathrow. As they crossed the Kent coast there was a loud bang from the rear of the aircraft. The pilot looked at the co-pilot, the co-pilot looked at the load-master. The load-master, wide-eyed, jumped out of his seat, opened the cabin door and went to the pressure door leading to the cargo hold. He switched on the cargo hold lighting and peered through the window. As the lights flickered on he could see movement right at the tail end of the aircraft.
Our chunk of rock had now had its outer layers burnt off in the atmosphere and all that remained was a white-hot, orange sized iron core. In an instant it had punched entirely through the rear fuselage of the aircraft. Had luck been on our crews' side the meteorite would have missed the important parts of the fuselage and simply de-pressurised the cargo hold.
But seriously, do you think that was what was going to happen? Nah.
The meteorite hit every vital piece of the framework on its journey through the aircraft weakening the tail-plane's structure more than it could cope with. As the load-master looked on, the movement he had noticed became a twisting motion and suddenly the entire rear fuselage separated and vanished into the night. Within the blink of an eye the cargo of boxes were ripped from their shrink-wrapped pallets and a hale-storm of teddies were sucked out. With the weight of the tail and cargo gone the now un-balanced aircraft immediately pitched down in an uncontrollable dive.
Now, aircrew don't normally carry parachutes but having already had five near-death experiences this crew came prepared. And it's amazing what you can achieve when you need to get out of a crashing plane. The aircraft was coming down at about 45° and, although the G-forces were considerable the crew were able to attach their parachute packs and get the pressure door open. However, on entering the cargo hold they then had to pull themselves along the fuselage wall until they could jump out of the hole at the end. This they managed to achieve with a mere 5000ft still to fall. They pulled their chute D-rings and hung in the air watching the now burning aircraft fall away from them; directly towards Broughton Green.
Cargo aircraft are meant to be flown straight and level, not dived at 45° and with the tail-plane gone the stresses in the airframe were now building. At 3000 feet above Broughton Green the left wing could take it no more and tore away from the fuselage. With the aircraft now considerably heavier on its right side it rolled to the right and impacted in a fallow field 200m from the village; the left wing landing a similar distance to the left of the village. The tail-plane had already landed in a wood some distance away.
The vertical arrival of a Boeing 767 not surprisingly got the attention of the entire village. Edward had, of course, seen the first part of the events but had raced off to inform his parents of Santa's arrival and had missed seeing the diving aircraft. He'd breathlessly got as far as "I've seen Sant-" when there was an almighty explosion from one side of the village. He and his parents raced out into the street along with numerous other villagers. The stench of burning jet fuel hung in the air and a huge black and orange pall of smoke billowed up from behind the houses. Everyone feared the worst.
After the tail of the aircraft had separated it began to tumble which slowed its forward momentum and on landing in the wood had only managed to take out a few branches and saplings. However, the cargo, although relatively light in weight had been travelling at about 350mph prior to its hasty exit into the night. It had maintained a considerable momentum and the boxes were now starting to break apart and spill their contents out. In the village below some people had spotted what looked like small dots rapidly approaching from the sky to the east. 1000 feet above the village the three crew could hear a faint whistling noise behind them and within seconds thousands of teddies had shot past them missing them by inches. A few more seconds later and the teddies were now raining down on Broughton Green, on the roofs, the cars, the streets and the people. The villagers ducked inside to avoid them and when they peeked outside again there were teddies everywhere.
Edward and his parents went back onto the street.
"Presents!" shouted Edward, "I told you I saw Santa!"
His parents were suddenly alerted to the sound of flapping fabric from above and on looking up saw two figures descending on parachutes. The flight-crew in their olive coloured flight-suits landed in the street and slipped a little in the snow before gaining their balance and pulling in their 'chutes.
"ELVES!" shouted Edward running on the spot.
A few seconds later and the load-master was on the ground.
Edward took a long look at the old man in the red flight-suit with the long beard and, wide-eyed shouted
"IT'S SANTA!"
A Very Merry Christmas to all my readers and I'll Catch You Later!
