The Emu Conquest by Natasja Rose

Author:Natasja Rose [Rose, Natasja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: X14
Published: 2021-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

Jane Smith, a cleaner at the station of space-related machinery generally known as The Big Spyglass in a case of typical Australian understatement, clustered around the television in the local pub.

Beside her, another woman was giggling, far more enthusiastically than the rather potent cocktail warranted. Jane resisted the urge to swat the girl, and settled for hushing her. She wasn’t wrong to be giggling, precisely; most of the pub was hiding grins or attempting to stifle laughter.

Granted, the shouted argument was difficult to hear, with all the transmission static, and extremely one-sided, but what they could hear made for hilarious listening.

It was also a brilliant example of the kind of impending beat-down that drew a crowd. Jane winced as the static cleared, enough to distinguish a distinctly American accent “...drink a Fosters, you bloody Kiwi!”

Neil whatsit and Buzz whoever had best hope that space-suits hadn’t accommodated for the burning desire to punch someone. Jane gave whichever one had spoken credit for an impressive two-for-one insult, and for the spate of swearing as the Honeysuckle Creek telescope tracked a sudden burst of speed from the Australian shuttle, allowing it to pull ahead in the neck-and-neck race to land on the moon. She nudged her giggling co-workers. “The next rocket fuel: spite, outrage, or the universe having a Larrikin sense of humour?”

She’d spoken in a brief lull of noise, and laughter spread around the bar. They all fell silent again at the sound of a triumphant shout, “Beat that, farm-boy!”

The bartender, in a brief respite from pouring drinks, grinned. “Do you think they realise that the entire world is listening to them right now?”

Jane sniggered, wondering if her paycheque would cover another drink. Probably not, she reluctantly concluded; domestic work was chronically under-paid, when it was paid at all. “Still, mankind on the moon! Whatever next?”

A young soldier, probably an unfortunate victim of the recent Conscription trial, scowled over a VB. “An Earth-like planet with less hostile wildlife? Maybe we can migrate there and get away from the bloody birds!”

The moon landing was temporarily forgotten as the entire pub toasted that notion.

* * *

Queen Victoria Park, Sydney, August 19, 2006, Year 74 of the Great Emu War

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