Untitled 'Cabin Pressure' Piece

[personalmephistopheles]

Fandom: Cabin Pressure
Rating: G
Characters: Martin Crieff, Douglas Richardson, Arthur Shappey
Warnings: Really, really bad puns
Word Count: 337

General Summary: Gerty has a strange and unusual cargo. Things do not go as planned.

Author’s Note: Listen, back in December 2011, a buddy asked me to write a fic that incorporated a terrible pun. This was that fic. I'm sorry.


"What is in the hold, anyway?"

"Nothing!"

Arthur blinked. Never before had one of his inquiries provoked quite such a violent reaction in Martin. Even Douglas appeared slightly alarmed by his fellow pilot’s outburst.

"You see, Arthur," the older man began, "what’s in the hold is—"

"Shut up, Douglas." Martin snapped, and the older pilot shot him a look of mild irritation.

"What ever for, Martin?"

His jaw tensing, Martin spoke slowly and carefully. "Carolyn said explicitly that we are not to talk about what’s in the hold."

"What does it matter?" Douglas shrugged. "It’s just a small box of gold."

"DOUGLAS!"

"See?" Douglas gestured around the flight deck. "Nothing happened."

Scowling, Martin turned back to the console, and rattled by the captain’s outburst, Arthur edged out of the room.

It wasn’t until several hours later that Douglas and Martin realised that they had not seen or heard from Arthur for over two hours. Slightly uneasy at this turn of events, Martin pressed the button on the P.A. system. "Arthur?"

There was no response. Only static and some muffled shuffling.

"Perhaps he took a nap?" He looked at Douglas hopefully.

Several minutes later, there was a banging on the door to the flight deck.

"Come in!"

The banging continued.

"I said come in!"

There was still no response, only the continuing banging.

"Oh for god’s sake Arthur!" Douglas turned in his seat. "Just come in!"

Suddenly, the door creaked open and Douglas fell strangely silent.

"Now Arthur, what was all that banging abo-" Martin turned in his own chair, then froze.

Standing in the doorway was what was once a tall man in a ragged black uniform, flesh hanging off of him in rotting strips. Eyeing the two pilots with milky orbs heavily shaded by the visor of its cap, the skull adorning it tarnished and bloodstained, the zombie uttered a guttural roar.

There was a brief moment of silence broken by Douglas’ voice, accompanied by a hysterical little laugh.

"I did not see that coming."