Challenge #2

This short story is my entry for challenge #2 in Oorah's SFSD-X. My challenge was to write an alternate history of the first landing at Botany Bay, incorporating the character Snake Plissken. It may not seem like much, but this was actually a really hard one! Hope you enjoy it!

Approx 3,800 words.

Escape from Botany Bay

"Well, Dr. Solander, I told you we shouldn't have gone so far afield."

The sheltered bay was empty. No sign of the three-masted barque anywhere.

"But Captain Cook can't do that, Mr. Banks!" was his bellicose reply.

"Well, Dr. Solander, he has."

"Dudes, chillax. They'll probably name his hell hole after you."

They glared at the brigand. The older Dr. Solander finally broke the silence, "Cook named it after the Stingrays. Stingrays Bay, remember?"

"Mmmm," the convict-servant looked off across the water, "that reminds me. We haven't had lunch yet. Either of you gays hungry? I mean guys?"

They continued to glare at the long-haired former freebooter. Both said at the same time, "Shut up, Plissken!"

He put a look of hurt on his face. Dropping the satchels of botany samples, he turned his hands up in a questioning gesture, "What? I'm just sayin'. When one door closes, another one opens. Look around you, will ya? We found lots of fresh water inland, there's lots of plants so we can obviously grow stuff, the harbour is sheltered: what more do you want?"

They were both still looking at him, staring at him like he had just stepped off Spanish Galleon.

"What I want," said Dr. Solander, "is to not have listened to you! Lots of time, you said! We'll be back by lunch time, you said! They won't leave us, you said! Just one more hill, you said! Don't worry, it won't bite, you said! Now where are we? Stranded in this forsaken tropic; my most important associate is stomach mulch to that ... thing ... that came out of the river; and our ride, the Endeavour, is gone!"

Mr. Banks looked hurt by the comment about Herman. Doctor Solander rolled his eyes and stayed focused on the proto-hippy in front of him.

"Hey, man, what's done is done, ya digeth? We can't be hatin' cuz Cookie forgot about us. God must have wanted it this way! It's divine intervention! Look, if you guys are that upset, what say we just go right ahead and name this darn hell hole after you guys, okay?"

They said nothing. They just glared at his one good eye.

"You guys are botanists, right? Let's just call it The Botanists Hole!"

"Bay," said Banks.

"Excuse me?" said both Plissken and the Doctor.

"It's not a hole, it's a bay. It's too big for a cove, the depth is normal for an inlet, it's too wide to be an estuary, it's too small to be a sea. It's a bay."

"Fine," said Plissken rubbing his hands together with a big goofy smile on his face, "Botanist's Bay it is!"

"Superb," Dr. Solander said mordantly.

"This is great, your dude-ships! We can make a life here! There's no one around to tell us what to do! We can eat those things that ate Herman!" the long-haired, one-eyed, smelly man tried again.

Dr. Solander's hand flew to his mouth, he dry heaved a couple times, then spewed what little remained in his stomach, all over Mr. Banks mostly destroyed shoes.

"Well, okay, maybe not the one that ate Herman."

"Plissken, kindly shut up," said Dr. Solander.

"Come on, we're now standing on the shores of the land of the free! The land beyond the seas!"

"Plissken, kindly do what the doctor told you and shut the hell up," was the younger Mr. Banks response.

He sighed, they just weren't getting it. "Fellas, really, just think of it as a brave new world."

"PLISSKEN!" they both shouted, now red faced and quaking with rage.

With a big smile and wide open arms he said, "Fellas, call me Snake." He picked up the satchels and headed to the tree line to set up camp for the night.

( . )( . )

"Réveillez-vous."

He lay there, snoring.

"Réveillez-vous!"

More snoring.

"Réveillez-vous!" the Frenchman slapped Plissken on the face, receiving a grunt-snort-fart in response. The quasi-noble soldier, curled his nose, muttering to himself, "Maudit anglaise ... "

The man on the ground pulled the eye patch off his good eye and slid it over to his empty eye socket. He squinted up at the men standing around him in the morning sun, all wearing funny metal armour with elevated sleeves and pointy metal hats.

Two sets of hands roughly grabbed him, pulling him upwards, holding his arms behind his back "Mettez-vous debout!" one of them grunted as they did so.

"Okay, okay, relax fellas, relax. I'm up already." He looked over at the doctor and the younger gay, I mean guy. They were on their knees, not something that surprised Snake, but they had their hands tied behind their backs and they had gags in their mouths. Well, at least that was different.

A toff, in his finest frippery, stepped slowly over to Plissken and gave him his most disarming smile, "Bonjour. Comment vous-appelez vous?"

Plissken was more awake now, looking around as the man waited for an answer. On the water of the Bay, he could see an 80, three 64's and five cargo ships. They were all flying the fleurs-de-lis. There were about forty men on the beach, most of them in armour. There were flat-bottom skiffs shuttling building supplies from the cargo ships to the beach. The dandy was still standing in front of him, waiting patiently it seemed, for a response.

Well, not too patiently. As Plissken looked at him through his one good eye, at a loss for words, the dandy hauled off and slapped him across the face.

"Hey!"

The dandy slapped him again.

"The fuck? Stop that!"

The dandy slapped him a third time.

"Enough already! What the hell do you want?"

"Je dit, monsieur, comment vous-appelez vous?"

Plissken horked up a loogie and launched it into the Frenchman's face, "My name is kiss my ass, froggie."

( . )( . )

He groaned and winced, trying to pry his eyes open. There was a shadow moving over him, a hand and a damp cloth pressing on his face. Where it pressed: there was fire, there was pain. "Fuck," was all he said, over and over.

"Mr. Plissken, perhaps we could work on expanding your vocabulary of expletives?"

"Doc?"

"Yes, Mr. Plissken, it is I. How are you feeling?"

"Like ten pounds of shit in a two pound bag, how do you think?"

"Honestly, I've never encountered a man so thoroughly beaten by five soldiers before. I hadn't expected you to survive, let alone awaken. Here, allow me to help you sit up?"

"How long was I out?"

"You went down in a glorious hail of arms, legs, feet, and fists ... two days ago."

Snake propped himself up on his elbow and looked around, feeling all the parts of this body that hurt, trying to find a part that didn't hurt. He couldn't. "Two days? Really? No wonder I don't feel as bad as I should."

Plissken saw Mr. Banks on his knees, neck chained to a post near the water, hands tied behind his back. He looked like he'd caught part of the beating as well. The three men were in the middle of a rough circle of giant, black, obviously volcanic, rocks. The natural pen had a small gap for an entrance and was open on one side to the water of the bay.

"What's up with your special friend there? They lay on him, too?"

The doctor looked over his shoulder, than back at Snake, "Yes, he attempted to intervene in their beating after you passed out. They disposed of the remainder of their ire upon him."

"Wow, really? He tried to stop them for me?"

"Indeed," the doctor bowed his head slightly.

"I thought you gays, I mean you guys, didn't like me?"

"I don't. However, his beliefs are far more Christian than mine. To him, it was merely the right thing to do; fret not though, it doesn't mean he wants to spoon with you, or take long hot baths together."

Snake nodded, thoughtfully looking at the ravaged man, who appeared to be asleep on his knees. Then he turned back to the doctor, "So why aren't you tied up or beaten up?"

The doctor smiled, "I'm not one of the, how do they say, 'maudit anglaise'? I'm Swedish by birth, my papers all say that. Sweden and France are not having troubles. Captain Galaup, apparently, has a sweetheart in Gothenburg so he has turned a lenient eye to her countryman."

"Well, that's something. It's better than nothing, that's for sure. So ... " Snake looked around, "... any signs of chow?"

"Oh, my heaven's, yes! We had a sumptuous roast of pig last night, with fresh breads and potatoes!"

Snake smacked his lips and fidgeted a bit, wincing, fingering the chains around his own neck. Apparently he'd been too far gone for them to bind his hands. "So, umm, doc, the food?"

"Ohhh!" The doctor rocked back on his haunches, then laughed heartily as he slapped his knees with his open palms, "You meant was there any food for you!"

"Yeah, doc, yeah. I don't need a lot, just a bit of bacon and some taters is fine with me, I'm easy; some tea maybe?"

The doctor stopped laughing and looked intently at Snake, then he hauled off and slapped him, quickly lunged back out of Snake's grasp, "Captain Galaup didn't gay you any ...I mean give you any." Then he spun on his heels and stalked off towards the Frenchmen a little ways down the beach.

( . )( . )

Dr. Solander sat with Captain Galaup over a lunch of fresh bread and stewed stingray, with leftover bacon. He enjoyed the red wine but kept looking over towards the pen of rocks that surrounded his friend and the idiot. Seeing his discomfort, and his glances, the Captain asked why he was so worried about the two English. Without the Doctor saying anything directly to the topic, the Captain had the dawn of understanding that one of those men was very close to the good Doctor, close in a very European sort of way. The Captain understood that a complicit prisoner, or at least a grateful prisoner, is easier to manage; so he asked the Doctor to take the men some fish and bread, thereby engendering a third who would be grateful.

A few minutes after the Doctor left the makeshift dining area, he returned carrying both plates, a very confused look on his face. The Doctor spoke with one of the soldiers who ran into the prisoner's pen of rocks. The Doctor then came back to the Captain and informed him that the prisoners were gone.

"Alors! C'est pas possible!" the Captain was astonished. He ran to the pen of rocks to see for himself.

"But there is no way they can be gone!" exclaimed the Captain in his perfect English, "We chained them to solid wooden beams that we buried in the sand!" However, he stood looking down at two great trenches in the sand where some industrious and rapid worker, had dug out the massive beams of wood.

No sooner were these words out of his mouth, one of the soldiers yelled to get his attention, down by the water's edge. Arriving with Doctor Solander by his side, the two beams of wood were in the waves, partially submerged, hovering just off shore. Two soldiers waded out and pulled on the beams, only to find the metal chains were still attached, hanging underneath, and wrapped around some coral formations.

"Sacré Bleu," muttered the Captain, then to the Doctor, "It appears your English friend has proven both his mettle and his resolve, though he has left you behind with his enemy. What does that say for you, Monsieur Le Doctor?"

Dr. Solander just hung his head, and slowly trudged back to the small camp that he was still being permitted to enjoy. He found it hard to accept that Mr. Banks had departed without him.

( . )( . )

Three days later, while reading a French text on plants indigenous to Spain, Dr. Solander's attention was taken by smoke rising in the distance, on top of the tall mountain peak on the opposite side of the La Baie du Botanistes. He wasn't the only one that saw it, the small contingent of French soldiers that remained on the beach saw it as well. Most of the others were on patrols to look for the two escaped prisoners.

A dozen of the soldiers that were standing on the beach, all jumped into a skiff. None other than Captain Galaup himself lead the hastily organized expedition to the smoke-issuing mountain, directly across the bay. They rowed madly and made decent time. They only left behind four soldiers to keep an eye on the camp, and on the good Doctor, who had become a bit suspect in the Captain's heart.

As the Doctor watched the skiff passing the halfway point, he heard a sound behind him, coming from the tree line, "Psst, Doc."

The Doctor looked to each side, to make sure the soldiers were not watching him, then turned quickly to glance at the tree line. He couldn't see anything.

"Psst, Doc, over here," a shrubbery shook violently but only for half a second.

The Doctor turned to look out over the bay again, then turned to the guard nearest him, indicating he was going into the tree's to make some toilet. The guard nodded but did not accompany him, obviously preferring to watch the distant smoke plume and his ship mates paddling furiously to get to it.

The Doctor walked over to the shrubbery and made the motions of micturition, without actually making it, for fear of having a whiz on this friends head. It wasn't his friend in the bush though, it was Plissken.

"Doc, those the only goons? Everyone else gone after the smoke?"

The Doctor looked quite surprised at the mention of the smoke with such familiarity, "Yes, only these four remain."

"Good, you better get behind one of these tree's and stay down."

With that Snake Plissken stepped through the bush, out of the tree line and into the sunlight. He had two ropes made of vines slung over each shoulder, attached to each rope was an indigenous little fellow, no more than three feet in height, naked except for a skirt made of rushes or grass. Each of the odd little men possessed a length of bamboo, much like a flute; in each of their hands was six small sticks, carved from wood with a small feather on each tail.

As Plissken walked towards the Frenchman closest, he gave a quick and gentle shake to the pygmy under his left arm, the pigmy in response raised its small blow pipe, inserted a small wooden stick with a feather on the back end, and held the pipe to its lips. Plissken then turned his body slightly, elevating the pygmy to point it directly at the Frenchman, then gave a quick sharp squeeze around the midriff of his sticks-shooter. With a mighty puff, the sticks-shooter sent the wooden projectile, dipped in curare, right into the throat of the first French guard. With surprise, the guard grabbed his neck and fell to the ground; unable to move, scream, or further protest his dismay and his disgust.

The guard beyond him turned at the sight of his comrade falling, he saw Plissken, yelled and advanced with his poleaxe pointed in Plissken's general direction. However, by this time, Snake had cocked his other sticks-shooter, then fired another projectile that took down the second Frenchmen in his own tracks.

Plissken wasn't going to be outdone, or be gotten from behind. He spun around and started running towards the other two Frenchmen on the beach. They both stared incredulously at what they were watching, seemingly frozen in either amusement or disbelief. It was only when they came under attack that they started zig-zagging on the beach, trying to avoid the tiny flying sticks, attempting to put Plissken down once and for all.

As Plissken ran towards them, he would cock one sticks-shooter, then take a shot; he would then quickly cock the other sticks-shooter, then take another shot. Jerk the left arm to cock and load, then aim, then a sharp squeeze to fire; then repeat with the weaponized little fella under his right arm.

By the time Plissken got to the first charging Frenchmen, both of the Frenchmen were down on the sand, perfectly immobilized by the curare. Seeing no more danger, and his sticks-shooters not having any more ammunition, he took the ropes off from his shoulders and gently set his new little friends down on the sand.

"Durka durka durka durka durka?" asked the first one.

Plissken high-fived both of them, pointed to the ships and responded, "Durka durka durka durka durka!"

The two wee men spun on their heels and ran towards the water. As they reached the water line, there was a mighty roar from the jungle as several hundred more little fellas came running out and into the water. They all swam out to the 80 and the three 64's. A few of the ones near the back of the pack held aloft torches of fire as they gently swam behind the rest. A few went to each of the warships and clambered up the chains attached to the anchors; they then disappeared inside with the torches that had been daisy chained up the anchor lines by the other tribesmen climbing behind them. At almost the same moment, all the pygmy's jumped off these ships, the ones inside hastily diving out of the canon portals. They swam like mad for shore as the powder kegs ignited. The deafening and percussive blast turned all four ships of war into nothing more than flotsam and jetsam.

Plissken and Doctor Solander watched all this from the beach, including the sight of the skiff almost at the far shore turning to come back at the sound of the explosion.

"Plissken," the doctor started, not sure what was in store for him, "Are you going to kill me?"

"Not right now, doc. I'm kind of tired. Maybe later."

"Oh, heaven's, I see."

Snake lightly backhanded him on the chest and gave him a big, toothy, one-eyed smile, "Relax doc, I'm just yanking your codpiece."

Doctor Solander looked both relieved and concerned, he had been in growing fear of his life the longer he spent with the French Captain. However, it was his fear for his friend that was most pressing at the moment.

"Umm, Mr. Plissken, Sir..." he began.

Plissken folded his arms and looked sideways at the Doctor, "Doc, just call me Snake, I already told ya."

"Yes, yes, quite, I'm sure ..." the doctor faltered only briefly, "... umm, my friend, Mr. Banks ..."

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the Jungle then at the pen of rocks, then back at Plissken. He lowered his eyes and continued, "Mr. Snake, sir, my friend, did he ... did you .... was he ..."

Snake smiled and put his arm around the Doctor, much to the Doctor's disgust, and leaned in conspiratorially. Snake pointed across the bay to the mountain, one finger outstretched, thumb stuck straight up in the air, "Doc, who the hell do you think lit the fire?"

As they both looked across the bay, the saw that most of the pygmy's were now aboard the five cargo ships. They were in the process of throwing everything overboard. Their brothers who were still in the water, started to heard all the flotsam-booty and direct it towards shore, so they could easily retrieve it. As they were doing this, the returning skiff changed its course and headed towards the cargo ships.

"So, Mr. Banks, he is okay then?"

"Yep," replied Snake, "From that top of that mountain we could see Cook's ships in the distance, stopped in another bay. We trekked up the coast, met up with him, and explained the situation. The thought of catching the Frenchmen in a trap was more than he could say no to. So, here we are!"

The Doctor looked at Plissken, "Are you mad? You and some pygmy's? That is your trap? There are almost sixty foot soldiers in this jungle right now; all of them will have heard the explosions, all of them will be headed back here, they could arrive at any moment!"

"Nope," Snake smiled, "I watched them all running past us in the Jungle when the smoke started pouring up from the fire on the top of the mountain. We waited until they were almost there before the little 'uns and I attacked. It will be hours before they can get back here on foot."

The Doctor looked across the bay, then back at Plissken, "Great. Wonderful. Now that they are on the way back here, on foot, no matter how long they take, we are going to have to walk past them in the jungle to make it to Captain Cook's ships! Snake, you are, Sir, a complete and utter ..."

Snake held up one finger to his lips, then with a smile pointed behind the Doctor, towards the mouth of the bay. Several sets of masts and sails, in full wind, were rounding the headland. The HMS Endeavour and it's entourage were sailing into the bay. As soon as it was within range, three of the Eandeavour's port side swivel guns opened on the skiff, which had almost made it to the supply ships that were still being pillaged by Snake's new friends. The skiff went down fast, it's occupants quickly throwing their armour and weapons into the water, and swimming for the safety of shore.

Snake picked up one of the poleaxes from the still paralyzed French soldiers that he had taken out with his sticks-shooters. He then met the thirteen men crawling onto the beach, keeping them calm and on their knees until the Endeavour anchored and sent a landing party ashore. Once the French prisoners were in custody, and a large contingent of red-coated Marine's were landed from the ships of the Endeavour's expedition, Snake went over to the Doctor to speak with him again.

"Doc, Mr. Banks was picked up by the ship standing guard outside the mouth of the bay. He's fine. The Captain watched him being rescued before they even entered the bay here."

"Oh, Mr. Plissken, I mean, Mr. Snake, thank you, thank you so much! That is such good news! May I, may we, go see him?"

"Better than that doc, the Captain's skiff will take both of us out to him, then we'll be heading home to Jolly Old on the evening tide!"

( . )( . ) The End ( . )( . )