A Visit From St. Forrest

 by Keith P. Graham 

‘Twas the night before Sci-Fi when all through the ship
Not a cyborg was stirring, not even a chip.

The blasters were hung by the antimatter drive
In hopes that St. Forrey would help us survive.

The clones were nestled all snug in their vats,
While visions of death rays scampered like rats.

And yeoman in her armor and I in full gear,
Had entered hibernate with a twinge of fear.

When out in the vacuum, there arose such a clatter,
I booted up quickly and plugged into the chatter.

Away to the viewport I flew like a flash,
Went to full sensors and readied for crash,

The meteoric dust in a nova’s cosmic rays,
Gave the luster of x-rays to the galactic haze,

When what then resolved to my deep sensor chips,
But a miniature sphere and eight tiny spaceships,

With a fearsome old captain on a sacred quest,
I knew in a moment ’twas the famous Forrest.

More rapid than photons, his courses they came,
and he transmitted, and signaled, and called them by name;

“Now, Wallaby! Now, Serenity! Now, Dora and Nimbus!
On, Moonbeam! On, Skylark! On, Enterprise and Brutus!

To the top of the boot drive, to the tip of the bow,
All warp away! Warp away, warp away Now!"

As galactic dust before the solar wind flies
When they meet with a planetoid, leap to the skies;

So up to the control ports, their retros they flew,
With a sphere full of weapons and St. Forrey too.

And then in a nanosecond, I heard from the dock,
Howling and scratching at the main air lock.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
From the turbolift St. Forrey emerged with a bound.

He was wrapped in a force field from his head to his ass,
And his plating was all tarnished with entrails and ash.

A bundle of weapons he had flung over his shoulder,
And he looked like a berserker just starting to smolder.

His eye sockets, they glowed with a bloodlust of fire!
His fangs were all sharpened, his claws clasped in desire!

His prehensile tail was drawn up like a bow,
and the scales on his body were as black as a crow;

The roach of a joint was held tight in his beak,
and the smoke of it encircled his head like a freak;

He had a chromed skull and barrel shaped chest,
That wheezed when he breathed like a demon possessed,

He was gnarly and scarred, like an evil dark elf,
And I screamed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A click of his mouse and nod of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the armories; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his blaster aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the turbolift he rose;
He sprang to his sphere, and setting his goal,
And away they all warped through a spatial wormhole,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he tunneled out of sight,
“Happy Sci-Fi to all, and to all, a good-night.”

Click to read FLARE BOUND

by Keith Graham

on the FREEZINE of

Fantasy and Science

FICTION