Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #82: Bunker Down

“We Should start a band.”. Remarked Dr. Smith.
 Capt. Brown, who up to that point had been trying to loosen a steel bar out of its solid concrete foundations, stopped.
    “A Band?”  He asked.
      “Yeah,”  Said Dr. Smith, Staring at the ceiling, “A Band.  I can play the Trumpet pretty well, I know you can play drums.   Find somebody for the bass and we have a quartet.”
    Capt. Brown silently worked out who would be the fourth man, “Jeeves.  But can he play the Piano?”
       Dr. Smith nodded, Still staring at the ceiling,  “He can play any instrument you hand to him.  I think it's just sheet metal.”

-=fig. 567: a shaft of light, just out of reach=-

You don't get to be Dr. Smith's only friend unless you can follow his non sequiturs.
       “Do you think you can reach it?”
 Dr. Smith stood up and tried to reach the crack in the ceiling. He was five-and-a-half inches too short.
    Dr. Smith examined his belongings, he had his Satchel, But the only thing in that was his lock-pick set and a small notebook.   The Russians had taken away his suitcase, so that was–
  His Lock-pick set.
 Dr. Smith swore.
    “What?” Said Capt. Brown, not having any luck with his steel bar.
     “My lock-pick set is missing.  But if you give me a hand I might be able to reach the ceiling.”
      “Zachary, We're in separate cells. Try jumping.”
   Dr. Smith jumped.
    No dice.
  “You know, You're taller than me, I don't suppose you have a crack in your ceiling?”
A moment of silence as Capt. Brown examined his ceiling,
   “Nope.”  He said.
     It seemed they were well and truly stuck.
 “Has it ever occurred to you that our lives have just been one disaster after another?”  Capt. Brown, having given up on his steel bars, was waxing philosophical.
 Dr. Smith nodded, this had occurred to him often.  “And on a roughly weekly basis as well.  I have come to dread Tuesdays.   But it's better than a life of boredom, I suppose.  I'm serious about that band.”
  “I'm sure you are, But lets focus on escaping first.”
   “I'm surprised that with all of our experience in jails not dissimilar to this, That we haven't discovered a surefire way of escaping.  But I have an Idea, GUARD!”
 The guard, a bored russian with a very limited sense of humour, came ambling.
  “What is it you want, prisoner.”
    “My good man, Give me the key to this cell.”  Dr. Smith tried to say it in his most commanding tone.
        “Someday that will work.”
The Guard ambled off, his dinner was rapidly cooling.
    “That was your big plan?” Asked Capt. Brown, incredulously.
     “Did you know that there is an illustrated guide to pickpocketing?” Dr. Smith replied as he unlocked the cell door.
  “What now?” Capt. Brown asked as he caught the key Dr. Smith threw to him.
    “We rescue Jeeves and get the [HECK] out of here.”
       “Easier said than done.”
-=fig. 568: a gray passageway=-

They charged down the passage way, it was gray.  

    The man charged with guarding the generator room didn't stand a chance, really.

There were banks of generators, each with thier own little placard denoting their service. 
  “Find one marked ‘Robot Room’ or something similar.”  Said Dr. Smith as he crouched near the nearest placard. 
  Capt. Brown took a look at the next generator and noticed that the placards were all in Russian.
    “I thought you couldn't speak Russian, Zachary?”
     “I Can't, but I can read it.  Now stop talking and look.”
  Moments later, Capt. Brown spoke up “Found it!” 
        “Good, I found the back-up, find two somethings that could conceivably kill these generators.”
    “Like this wrench set?” 
    Dr. Smith selected a rather small one and dropped it in an important-looking spinning bit.
 Capt. Brown then did the same for his generator. 
The sound of metal twisting is not a pleasant sound. 


“Where is everyone?” Capt. Brown wondered. 

-=fig. 569: an empty room=-
“My suitcase!” Dr. Smith went over and picked it up, nothing happened. 
   Dr. Smith walked over to Jeeves' container, they sure had repaired it quick.
    “You picking up any sort of electrical field?”  Dr. Smith shouted.
     “No, Sir.  And I can ear you fine without you yelling, Sir.”
       “Sorry, Jeeves.  Hang on a minute, we're getting you out of there. James–”
         “On it.”
-=fig. 570: an unexpected surprise=-

 Ms. Teresa Phillips entered the room silently, through a mostly secret door.
   “Three hours,” she said, “ It took you three hours to escape.  I'm disappointed.  I expected More from The great Dr. Smith. ”