“It’s in the science lab!” Captain Clusterflame yells, his face crimson.

When Captain Starcrusher reappears, he carries the capsule in a small, transparent, indestructible box.

“You could have told me where it was instead of letting me look for it.  Why—”

“—That’s where it was supposed to be.  You forgot.”

“I never forget.”

“All too convenient.  I never forget.” Captain Sunblast adds.

“Why did you put it there?” Captain Starcrusher insists, “you know the least about the capsules.”

“I thought it safer.”

“He lies!” Labaguette yells, grinning.

“He’s lying,” Captain Traumatic acknowledges.

“That’s a lie,” the King-Fool emphasises.

“Lies and more lies,” Birdseye continues.

“In space, there is no such thing as biased democratic consultations or witch-hunts!” Captain Sunblast blasts.

“No rules,” Captain Traumatic reiterates, “Gimme that damned bloody future capsule and I’ll show you how we can still have choices.”

“Stay out of this!” Captain Sunblast orders, “we’ve seen what you and your parrot are capable of.”

“The capsule is useless.  It’s been tampered with.”

“He tampered with it,” Labaguette says, pointing his wing at Captain Sunblast.

“He did!” The King-Fool says.

“The future belongs to me,” Birdseye says, looking intently below him, his goggles lighting up, their beams focussing on the capsule.

“You can’t possibly…” Captain Traumatic says, “you can’t fly!”

“Only I can fly,” Labaguette remarks.  “STOOOOOOP!” he yells at his comrade about to take a potentially deadly leap of faith.

“I can do what I want.  I can create my own future,” Birdseye insists.  Then, he raises his neck to the starless sky, deploys his wings and plunges towards the capsule, his future and Captain Starcrusher, mesmerised at the sight of this man-creature’s majestic and reckless, kamikaze style approach.

To be continued…



“Chloroph is a gardener we met travelling through the big out there.  He plants seeds, a wide range of seeds.  Wild seeds, mad seeds, dangerous seeds, seeds he collected, others that he engineered.”

“The seeds of time were discovered growing by the side of a well-known scientific establishment that disappeared in what is believed to be a time-warp.” Captain Clusterflame continues, “It also happened in the land where clocks where invented.  This is no coincidence.”

“We’re scientists, not historians,” Captain Sunblast adds.  Who knows?  We do not make the law, we follow the rules.”

“There are no rules.” Labaguette says.

“No rules,” Captain Traumatic says, throwing the capsule to Labaguette, an unusual and sudden spark in his eye, one that reminds Labaguette of his own youth, and how crumpling time up was fun because then tomorrow was just that: tomorrow.  And so, with that instant engraved into his needle size brain and that twinkle in the eye fully understood, Labaguette throws the future capsule into the air to better catch it and kick it with his foot, well away from the shuttle and the Insatiable Princess’ deck.  Down, down, down, all the way into oblivion.

“What have you done, you doom-shitting bird?” Captain Clusterflame bellows.  “What have you done?”

“You have the original,” Labaguette says.

“It doesn’t work that way.  If the copy exists, it must be used first.”

“I see a path forward,” Birdseye says.

“See?” Labaguette adds.

“No rules,” Captain Traumatic insists.

“Not using the copy first will alter the original’s future.”

“Not unless you tampered with the copy.”

“It’s impossible.”

To be continued…


“An acquaintance?” Captain Clusterflame asks.

Now Labaguette is sitting on the Captain’s shoulder with the future’s capsule held in his claws.  He carelessly drops it onto the Captain’s lap.

“Fancy a game?” the Captain asks before throwing it back high into the air for Labaguette to fetch.

“Careful!! Captain, careful.  You can never anticipate what may come of the future if you play with it in this way.  Have you lost your mind?”

“We’re in suspended time mode.  What could become of the future if nothing changes?”

“It is said that suspended time is intense and acute, like alphabet letters forming this sentence compressed into one letter.  The air in our lungs could be used and re-used without us noticing, without danger, but damaging a time capsule in this mode breaks all the rules.”

“Why is there a Law of Time?” the Captain insists, as his game of catch intensifies.

“All right, all right, all right.  The Law of Time was built on the premise that Time is needed everywhere to extend life and evade Death and Decay.  Since the universe is extending, time is extending.  But when the universe stops growing and starts to shrink, so will time.  In manipulating time and saving it, we can reversed this process and maintain the universe’s expansion.  By revisiting the past, we can re-create a state of expansion to infinity and bring all future progress to the past to improve it in the present, a time loop of sorts.  This requires strong rules, regulations and laws all devised and engineered by specialists in their field: time lawyers and time engineers.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Who is Chloroph?”

To be continued…



“The rules The Law of Time as you know them, huh?  There is a non-edited and a limited version?” Captain Traumatic insists.

“The time capsules could be used in a circular motion,” Captain Sunblast ventures, “it has been suggested before, but it is illegal because it breaks the Code of Convention on the ethics of time travelling established by the Geneva Roll-X Convention, Article XXVIIIIIIIII.1) e.o.n, era 55X, year 2020.  You are in possession of the copies of the original time capsules and, aside of the shuttle’s instruments now being disabled and generating undetectable time particles of unknown substances and magnitude, these copies’ imprint may be lacking.”

“Lacking in what?  And I told you: I don’t have them,” the Captain insists, looking at the King-Fool.

“I’ve nothing to do with breaking time,” the King-Fool admits, it fell at the wrong time.  It was purely coincidental, a lack of synchronicity, that’s all.  It was meant to be caught but fell of its own accord, out of my hands, out of reach, a fated mistiming instant in time.”

“You juggled time?” Captain Starcrusher asks, dismayed.

“You broke the law,” Captain Sunblast affirms.

“No one can ignore the law,” Captain Clusterflame continues, “not even I,” his eyes achieving a rounder shape, one close to allow popping out of their sockets as if to convince of his righteousness through a hypnosis technique only he knows of.

“Such law does not exist when one isn’t aware of it,” Captain Traumatic says.

“We came from the past,” the King-Fool says, “as you came from the future, looking for us.  How could we know of a law that hadn’t yet been invented?”

“Linear.  Time is linear.  Knock this into your head!” Captain Starcrusher says.

To be continued…



“Time isn’t linear,” the Captain remarks.

“Time is my specialty,” Captain Starcrusher insists, a rictus of “I know more” etched alongside the left of his lips.

“The current rule states that what is must be and all that could be is debatable.  As it stands and to be precise, we are located a nano-fraction of time before what must be, where what will be could be and remains debatable.  Do you want me to repeat it?”

“I understand that being wedged between time zones means we are in a timeless zone, where time is of no consequences and where, if the edges of yesterday, today and tomorrow were allowed to mingle, the edge of tomorrow could meet the edge of yesterday.”

“Wait a minute,” Labaguette interrupts, “if we stayed here I would never grow old?  My plumage would remain shiny and velvety for ever and ever?”

“And therefore we could get back to the beginning, to before we fell off the ocean’s precipice…” Captain Traumatic concludes.

“I could remain the lonesome, awesome King my planet until the end of time…” the King-Fool ponders aloud.

“I would be born in future,” Birdseye muses, “My eyes would see in broad daylight, through the heart of shadows and dark places and would take me places without the need for wings.”

“Don’t you dream of anything of the sort,” Captain Sunblast adds, a joy slayer in the making.

“Time is circular.  It’s blinding obvious.  You could be creative with that,” the Captain continues, “want some Rum?”

Captain Sunblast opens a drawer, takes out a tissue this time and sponges his sweating forehead, before discarding it and throwing it into the distilled air, watching as it disintegrates.

“You must realise that there are rules.”

To be continued…



“Come, come Captain, you did not expect the shuttle to stop,” Captain Traumatic remarks.

“I believed Plan A would work but instead, Plan B has been initiated.  There’s little room for error.”

“Really?  Don’t—”

“—The time capsules are ruled by the Law of Time and they can only be used if the shuttle’s time warping instruments are disabled.  Truth be told, should any capsule or copies of capsules be used when a shuttle’s time instruments are functioning, then such time instruments are overridden to a great extent as they become dysfunctional and transform into unintentional perpetrators of potential and distorted time loops, including curves and parabolic, problematic time generating particles that are totally uncontrollable.  Fortunately, the engines were able to recognise the error and diverted to the shuttle’s inbuilt safety mechanism contained therein and named ‘Plan B,’ generated by the Plan B generator, a marvel of engineering.”

“Oh what a marvel!” Labaguette snarls.

All catch their breath, some scratch their head.

“Captain Anectodick,” Captain Sunblast continues, “you must hand back the stolen copies of the time capsules for present and future.”

“I don’t have any capsules nor any copies of them… copies?”

“We’ve all the time in the universe.”

“Sure.  The cracks of time are going to re-appear any second, are they not?”

“We are now suspended in time and contained within the nano-second that constitutes the instant before anything happens, after everything else has happened, yet not quite here nor there, as indicated by Plan B instruments.  We are nowhere to be found, somewhere where one is not dead, nor alive, wedged between time zones, where the edge of yesterday does not quite meet the edge of today and where the edge of today does not quite meet the edge of tomorrow.”

To be continued…



“We’ve experienced a technical glitch,” Captain Sunblast says.

“Already?” Captain Traumatic asks, in a daze.

“Our instruments display time zone -2,417,498,557,393,619”

“There were no zeroes then, right?” the King-Fool snarls.

“The instruments are unlikely to be wrong but, to be sure, we’re simply going to reset the clock and refresh the Wi-Fi, that should do it.  But for this, you must all come inside and this includes you Captain Anectodick.  We’ve no choice.  Such time travelling will leave your bodies’ particles disintegrated and hanging in space.  Reconstitution will become impossible.”

“Some science, huh?” Labaguette remarks, “It can only be your instruments’ mistake.  How would you explain us four to be alive otherwise?”

“For safety’s sake, you’ve no choice but to come inside.”

“Suppose we did get back all that time and we made it as you see us?” the King-Fool suggests.

“We’re heroes,” Birdseye says, “our particles are malleable, flexible, transformable and transformed.  We can sustain—”

“—Gobbledygook.  You’re artists, the whole lot of you.”

“We’re in the past as per your instruments point out,” Captain Traumatic insists, “I know and that is all there is to it.”

A single but heavy pearl of sweat finds its way down a line on the side of the Captain’s Sunblast nose as he walks, exasperated, towards Labaguette, determined to lead by example.  If the crew isn’t coming, the crew shall come to me,” Captain Sunblast thinks, adamant he should get hold of that stupid parrot and strangle it if circumstances allow it.

As it is, Labaguette stands awkwardly, as if in a balancing act, switching his weight from one leg to the other.

To be continued…