What was it that he called this? A truely mediocre book? That would be a most polite way to describe this piece of gratuitous violence and sex. A book for the testosterone filled marginally literate. The male version of chick lit. Dick lit?
Any minute now.
Rush turned another page and hoped that the ship would just rip apart in an amazing ball of fire. A quick and relatively painless death. He dreaded that the stresses of the solar winds and star's gravity would cut a hole in the ship venting the atmosphere, and he would find himself flopping around his room gasping for air like a fish out of water. He had no desire to take his sweet time dying.
Another page. God, this book is horrible. Speaking of death, how was the Air Force going to explain the deaths of these 80 or so people on Destiny? The military deaths would be relatively easy. Missions that went wrong; so sorry, but we cannot retrieve the bodies. But the civilians? Most of them, us, have nothing in common according to the outside world. A massive explosion in the mountain complex? No, that might damage something vital to the Stargate program. A virus could explain so many deaths, but why not the doctors who treated them, too?
How did he want to go? Heart attack? Most men don't survive their first one. And God knows, his diet on Earth was filled mainly with coffee and cigarettes. What I wouldn't do for even a half ways decent cup of coffee. God, do I need a cigarette. It's not fair that I'm going to die without at least one last smoke. No one who knew him would be especially surprised to hear that he died that way. But, no. Heart attacks can last for minutes. He wanted quick.
Another minute, another page. Let's just get this over with, OK Destiny?
How about being shot with a gun? Again, no surprise to anyone that he could antagonize someone enough into shooting him. Especially on a military base where seemingly everyone carried a weapon. But that possibility of bleeding out? Nope.
Aneurysm. A few days of headaches, nothing new there, and boom. Fade to black. Dr. Nicholas Rush, Ph.D, mathematician and consultant for the US Air Force, passed away Tuesday from a previously undiagnosed aneurysm. He is remembered by nobody outside of a select few who think he was a brilliant scholar, but a complete ass as a person. He has no family to mourn his passing. In fact, instead of a wake, please just head to the nearest pub and raise a pint toasting his demise.
Last page. Someone from the Air Force would mail his obituary to Oxford. Didn't Dr. Rush get his PhD at your school? And the news of his death would disturb mathematicians from all over the world for about 4 seconds.
Rush folded what remained of his glasses with a snap. It really had been rather annoying reading with glasses in one hand and the book in the other. He closed the book and flipped it across the room. Now what? He tapped his glasses. I'm bored, he sighed. He glanced at his watch. I'm bored and I should be dead.
I. Should. Be. Dead. He sat up slowly. Why aren't I dead? He slid off the bed and fumbled around his room until he found a flashlight. Why hasn't the ship exploded? Why aren't we dead? Destiny, what did you do?
He walked quickly to the control room, his mind racing trying to explain what was going on and coming up with only an impossible solution. A quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wisked into his head. "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." A quick glance at each of the panels told him that they were in the star. His mind seemed to slow to a snail's pace as he struggled to comprehend the truth of this impossible situation. Destiny was inside the star! The shields were holding. Destiny was flying steady through a star! And systems were slowly turning back on. We're gonna live! Rush started laughing with incredulous joy. Waves of relief washed down his body. Destiny, you gorgeous creature, you! Thank you! I'm alive. Inside a star! He sobered for a moment and let that sink into his brain. I'm. Inside. A Star.
I've got to see this! Rush ran off to the observation room. He slowed as he entered the room. The floor to ceiling windows were filled with swirling yellow orange flames and brilliant white streaks of lightning. Beautiful. He couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his face. He hadn't had much cause to smile over the last few days, months really. But this was an exception. This was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. I'm inside a star and I'm alive. He started laughing again. "Yes!"