The Cortina Chronicles 1:
A Different Perspective
by Clonesgirl
A Life on Mars slashfic about the other member of the CID team - the silent one. I discovered that not only did it have a voice but that once it started gabbing it wouldn't shut up - and what didn't it have to say, especially about Gene and Sam! So this is a tale of gearsticks, gearboxes, clutches and tool sets. In other words, tales of a gabby, young car and not to be taken seriously under any circumstances.
The technical stuff:
RATING: PG-13 Blue Cortina
PAIRING: Gene/Sam
WORD COUNT: Just over 5,000
WARNINGS: Slash - now you all know what that is. And running off at the mouth (long sentences).
SPOILERS: None
ARCHIVE: The Motley Collection
DISCLAIMER: Characters borrowed strictly for fun, not profit. No offence intended.
BETAING: Not betaed. Apologies. If you spot any goofs please let me know.
FEEDBACK: Would be lovely. This is also my first piece of LoM fanfic, so please be gentle.
NOTE: If you wish to link to this story it would be much appreciated if you could let the
author know.
* * *
Oh, no. Here comes that mouthy, young Cortina again. Yeah, squeal your tyres, you big show-off.
Now us ambulances, we perform a real service. We transport broken humans to factories - they're called hospitals - where they repair them. That showy police car, all it does is tear around the place while its humans put bullets in other humans and make more work for us.
"Hey, Ambulance, how are you?" the flashy Cortina calls out as its humans park alongside me and get out.
"Never better. How are you, ducky?"
"Oh, speedy as ever. Busy catching the toe-rag humans."
"Making more work for me you mean."
"What you talking about?"
"I mean you transport the police there quick as you please and they put bullets in 'em and I'm the one has to transport 'em to hospital, don't I."
"But I'm a police car so I have to be speedy. And anyway they're naughty humans. Toe-rags the Guv calls them. Says they have to be taught a lesson. So I catch up to them and he and Sam lock them up. They're my heroes."
"You would say that. Your bolts come loose?"
"My engine bolts are nice and tight thank you."
"Never mind."
"Say, when we first met you told me all about humans but you never told me they had gears."
"That's 'cause they don't."
"But they do."
"Humans do not have gears."
"Yes, they do and I know they do."
"I will say this once more - humans do not have gears. Got it?"
"Well if they don't have gears then how come they have gearsticks?"
"They don't have gears and they don't have gearsticks, you silly Cortina."
"Yes, they do. You know for an ambulance you're not very smart. I thought you knew all about humans."
"I do. I pride myself on my knowledge of humans. No one knows more than us ambulances."
"So how come you don't know they have gearsticks?"
"That's 'cause they don't have gearsticks."
"They do too."
"Now look here, you jumped-up excuse for a car, humans do not have gearsticks and that's that. I mean what would they need 'em for?"
"Oh, they don't call them a gearstick but a gearstick it is. And I'm not 'jumped-up'. Quite the opposite - I've been lowered by two inches so I hold the road better the Guv says."
Now I knew from a previous encounter that the loony car was just full of itself and loved to rave on about its parts so I decided to have a little harmless fun with it.
"What are you talking about? What do they call 'em?"
"Oh, all sorts of funny names - night-stick, tickling stick, dick, dingaling, truncheon, but whatever they call it I know they mean a gearstick. I mean I have a very fine gearstick with a knob which is most easy to grip with human tool sets. A human gearstick may not have a knob to speak of but it's still a gearstick."
"You clueless Cortina. Now get this through your thick, bronze hide. Humans do not have gearsticks. What you're talking about is not a gearstick."
"It is so a gearstick. I know a gearstick when I see one. They move too just like mine. And my bronze outer skin is not thick at all."
"What? What are you talking about they move?"
"Their gearsticks. I've seen them move."
"You have not."
"But I have. I mean when they rub them together."
"Is one of your spark plugs missing? Well Cortinas never were known for their brains but you're the dumbest one I've ever met. Now listen here. Humans don't have gearsticks and they certainly don't rub them together."
"Oh, but they do. And they talk about it too and none of my spark plugs are missing. They all fire perfectly."
"Is your clutch knackered or what?"
"My clutch is fine thank you. My humans never grind my gears. And I'm serious. Once upon a time they used to fight something terrible, but I taught them a lesson."
"What? You taught your humans a lesson? Since when do cars teach humans anything?"
"They don't?"
"Course not. What a silly car you are."
"Well I taught my humans a lesson."
"You're taking the mick. You did not."
"Did too. Got sick of them fighting. Refused to start whenever they had a big fight."
"And?"
"And they got the message. That Sam human, he's smart. He figured it out. Told the Guv that it was the third time I'd refused to start lately and each time it had happened they'd had a fight."
"You're kidding."
"Not at all. So they stopped fighting and now they rub gearsticks."
"Go on with you. Your crankshaft cracked?"
"My crankshaft is fine thank you. And another thing - you never told me that humans need lubrication."
"That's 'cause they don't."
"Oh, yes, they do."
"You do go on. First it's rubbing gearsticks and now it's lubrication. Anyone would think they were vehicles with parts made of metal like us. Just what makes you think humans need lubrication?"
"They talked about it. At first I thought they were talking about getting me a new lube job but I soon realized they were only discussing rubbing gearsticks."
"They really talk about rubbing gearsticks?"
"All the time. I mean when they're not discussing toe-rags or some blag or other. I think the human word for it is shagging. Anyway when they do this I kind of... Well I wonder if it's like... you know... when humans get drunk."
"You mean like a good grease and oil job."
"Yeah, like that only better."
"What? You mean you get high when they start rubbing gearsticks?"
"Not sure what the word is for it. All I know is that I'm glad I'm not on the road at the time as it's just... well it's just... "
"Great is it?"
"Better than great. So why do humans need lubrication?"
"They don't."
"They do too. I've seen them use it."
"When? When do they use it?"
"When they get on my back seat and get out their gearsticks."
"Crikey."
"Well I blame myself really."
"Why is that? And I'm sure I'll be sorry I asked."
"Well that last time I refused to start it was getting dark, it was pouring rain and it was in the middle of nowhere. A good twenty miles outside the city. They tried to radio for help but that didn't work either. Out of range Sam said. Anyway he says he's feeling horny, though I don't know why he'd say that as he didn't toot my horn and had no reason to anyway since I was parked, and he bets the Guv twenty quid and a Party Seven, whatever that is, that he won't climb onto my back seat and have the best blow job he's ever had in his life."
"A blow job! What would you know about blow jobs?"
"Well that's what he said - a blow job. At first I was afraid they were so mad because I wouldn't start they were going to take a blow torch to me. Then I thought they were talking about checking my tyre pressure but I knew it was perfect. The Guv likes to keep the pressure a little higher than normal and Sam says I use less petrol that way too - and of course I've been lowered so I always hold the road better anyway."
"So you've already said and never mind your precious tyres. Get back to this blow job business."
"Well I also wondered if it was like a lube job..."
"Will you get back to the blow job!"
"Oh, yes. Well they argued as usual - the Guv saying he wasn't a poof - whatever that is - and Sam wouldn't have twenty quid anyway. So Sam took out twenty quid and placed it on top of my dashboard and called the Guv a coward for not taking up the wager. So the Guv, he got twenty quid out too and placed it on top of Sam's twenty."
"Then?"
"Then they climbed onto my back seat and the Guv got his gearstick out."
"What!?"
"And then the Guv, he put his gearstick in Sam's fuel intake."
"And then?"
"Well he came over all funny like and I got drunk or something. Felt like my axle was melting."
"And then?"
"Well then the Guv, he took out Sam's gearstick and put it in his fuel intake."
"And you got high all over again?"
"I did. And it's been happening ever since."
"Well I never!"
"I never either. It's kind of like an electrical charge. Goes all through me. Much better than having them fight. When they used to fight I'd feel like growling at every other vehicle on the road, only they'd growl right back at me and a lot of them are bigger than me."
"So the Guv won the bet."
"Well they argued over who won the bet. Sam insisted that the Guv had won but the Guv, he reckoned that Sam had won. In the end they agreed they'd both won. Do you happen to know how many gears they have?"
"They don't have gears."
"But they must have. I reckon when I get that strange electrical charge, well that must be top gear 'cause when they hit top gear they squirt some kind of lubrication."
"Squirting lubrication? What are you talking about?"
"Funny smelling stuff but they always clean it up before it gets on my good leather."
"Cortinas don't have leather seats. They have cheap vinyl."
"I do too have leather. The Guv made sure I had proper leather upholstery. Only the best. None of that cheap vinyl for me."
"Upholstery? I'm surprised you even know the word. Leather seats! No wonder you're so uppity."
"I am not uppity. As I already told you, I've been lowered. So how come humans need lubrication?"
"You mean the stuff you reckon their gearsticks squirt, or are you talking about some other kind?"
"I mean stuff in a tube they keep in the glove box. I mean what good's a little tube like that? You need a great big grease gun to do any good."
"So what do they do with it?"
"Well what do you think they do with it, you useless ambulance?"
"Of all the cheek! You call me useless again and I'll bend your fender next time I see you."
"I'd like to see you try. The Guv will have you up for reckless driving."
"So go on. Tell me what they do with this lube in a tube."
"Well they use it on their gearsticks of course."
"Of course. I should've known. When they rub them together you mean."
"Well not quite. It's when one of them dips his gearstick in the other's gearbox."
"What? Is your battery running low? Now look here. Humans don't have gearsticks and they certainly don't have gearboxes."
"Yes, they do and my battery is fully charged thank you."
"Now look here, and get this through your silly vinyl roof. Humans don't have gears, gearsticks or gearboxes. Never had and never will. Next you'll be telling me they have clutches."
"Well, no. That is, I don't think so, though I have seen them clutch each other's gearsticks with their tool sets."
"Oh, go on with you. You really are full of it, aren't you!"
"Oh, you mean petrol. Yes, they topped up my tank this afternoon. How did you know?"
"That's the trouble with Cortinas - all looks and no brains."
"I'll have you know I'm very smart. Hey, why is that old lady human screaming and pointing at that human with the handbag?"
"I think she's saying he stole it."
"Oh, look! Here come the Guv and Sam. They've seen her. Oh, look they're chasing after him! That Sam, he can run fast. You'll see - he'll catch him."
"Oi, he's fast all right. He's caught the tosser already."
"He has too. Look, he's handing him over to the Guv. Hey, the Guv is giving him a right bollocking."
"I'd say so."
"Would you look at that? The old lady human's smiling and Sam's giving her back her bag. See what I mean? They're real heroes. I bet they'll celebrate later and rub gearsticks."
"You and your rubbing gearsticks."
"Did I mention they also rub fuel intakes all the time?"
"They're called mouths."
"I know a fuel intake when I see one and they put all sorts of fuel in them, not nice clean petrol like I use."
"Seriously, they rub fuel intakes?"
"Of course. I think they call it 'kissing' or something. They do that even more than they rub gearsticks."
"Go on with you. What else do they do?"
"Well they sometimes interlock their tool sets when they're sitting in me."
I decided it was time to educate the silly cow - I mean car.
"You do know what they're doing don't you?"
"You mean besides rubbing gearsticks?"
"I see we're back to that again."
"Did I mention that when one puts his gearstick in the other's gearbox my suspension gets a workout? They rock me around a lot. Lucky for them I have great suspension. SLA coil and wishbone at the front and my rear has beam axle with trailing upper and lower arms and coil springs."
"You know something? You're worse than a Rolls Royce."
"You mean a Rolls has better suspension than me? I mean I don't know. It might have. I'll ask what kind of suspension they have next time I meet one."
"Has anyone ever told you you're gullible?"
"No. Why would they? I'm very smart. As I was saying, since they're on my back seat it's more my rear suspension that gets the workout. It's kind of funny having your suspension rocked while you're sitting still."
"Here we go with the suspension again. You sound as if you enjoy it."
"I do. I can test my suspension while sitting still and at least it doesn't squeak. Of course there was that one time they were on my bonnet so my front suspension got a workout too."
"Oh, will you shut up about your rotten suspension!"
"I'll have you know that my suspension is not rotten. It's in tiptop condition."
"Give me strength. Will you shut up about your stupid suspension!"
"I pride myself on knowing the condition of all my parts and my suspension doesn't squeak 'cause it's well lubricated."
"So you say. Look here. Do you want to know what those two humans have been up to on your back seat or not?"
"But I know what they've been up to. I told you - they're rubbing fuel intakes and gearsticks and using a little lubrication while they're at it, though they seem to make their own as well if that stuff that comes out of their gearsticks is lubrication - and I think it is 'cause they squirt it into each other's gearboxes while giving my suspension a workout when they hit top gear."
"They're poofs, you fool!"
"What are poofs?"
"They are! Poofs. Fairies. Queers."
"You mean poofs, fairies and queers are humans who rub gearsticks together on the back seats of cars?"
"You lost your dipstick? I thought I told you the facts of human life before."
"Well you told me they make replacements, but you never told me they had gearsticks and they rub them together. And my dipstick is fine thank you."
"That's because most of them don't."
"They don't have gearsticks? Or they don't rub them together? Or they don't have dipsticks? I mean I don't think they have dipsticks but..."
"You know you are about as thick as two tyres."
"I'll have you know that my outer skin is only..."
"Oh, will you shut up! Look here and get this through your thick bronze skin. Your humans are poofs. They're indulging in mating rituals on your back seat."
"Mating rituals? But I thought you said that it was male and female humans who have mating rituals. I mean with each other."
"Not always. Sometimes it's two males, or even two females."
"Do human females have gearsticks too?"
"No, they don't."
"Then how do they...?"
"I don't know. I've only heard about it."
"I see. Well not really. So you mean only human males have gearsticks."
"That's about the size of it. And they're not gearsticks."
"You told me before that a human male and a human female can produce a replacement."
"So?"
"So can two human males produce a replacement?"
"No."
"Are you quite sure?"
"To tell the truth after talking to you I'm not even sure about my own gearstick any more, but, no. As far as I know two human males can't produce a replacement."
"Well that's a relief. I mean from what you told me before about humans producing replacements in you before you can even get them to a hospital it's a very messy business. Wouldn't want my nice cream leather and thick shag pile carpet getting all stained - I mean if they suddenly produced a replacement while they were driving me."
"Do you know how far up your own tailpipe you are? Well you don't have to worry. No chance of that."
"What do you mean I'm up my own tailpipe? That makes no sense at all. What a silly ambulance you are. I used to think ambulances were smart but now I'm not so sure."
"Only a right ponce would say that."
"Wouldn't it be strange if we had gears that squirted lubrication like humans? I mean every time we hit top gear it would go all over the carpet. What a dreadful mess that would make. Just as well we don't. Oh, look! The Guv's handed the toe-rag over to the police in the Panda car."
"So how do you and the Pandas get along?"
"Oh, I get along great with all the police vehicles but I think the Pandas are a little jealous."
"What? You mean because the Guv rides around exclusively in you?"
"I mean because he rubs gearsticks with Sam in me."
"But how would they know? I mean your humans, they don't do it when the other cars are around do they?"
"Oh, no. They only do that when we're alone. But when I return to the police station those gossiping Pandas, they can all tell."
"How's that? You mean you've a hangover."
"Not exactly but I'm still feeling like I've had a tune-up when I haven't, if you know what I mean. So it's like, 'Oh, here comes Cortina. How are you, ducky? Had another tune-up, have you?' And if I say no, they say in a very knowing kind of way, 'You can't fool us. We know what your humans have been up to on your back seat.' Though I don't know how they know 'cause I never tell. And if I say yes, they say, 'No, you haven't. We all had a service only last month so we know what your humans have been up to.' See what I mean? Anyway you should hear what they say about what goes on on their back seats. The unmarked cars too."
"I hate to think."
"Well I've certainly learned something today - only male humans have gearsticks. So what do female humans have?"
"Somewhere for male humans to put their gearsticks. Oh, my worn spark plugs, now you've got me calling them gearsticks too."
"So you mean human females have gearboxes just like human males?"
"No. I mean yes. Well not what you mean. And they're not gearboxes."
"You don't sound too sure. Do they need lubricating too?"
"No. Well that is I don't think so. To tell the truth after talking to you I'm not even sure of the time of day."
"It's a quarter past four."
"I should've known you'd say that."
"Say what?"
"Never mind."
"Do human females have clutches?"
"No, they don't. Humans do not have clutches. Nor do they have gearsticks or gearboxes."
"But human males, they clutch each other's gearsticks - I mean with their tool sets."
"I see we're back to that again. And they're not 'tool sets', they're 'hands'."
"Mind you sometimes they clutch their own gearsticks with their tool sets too but the Guv told Sam he'd go blind if he did that, whatever that means."
"He did what?"
"Clutch his own gearstick with his tool sets."
"Why did he do that?"
"The Guv told him to. Said he wanted to watch him."
"So what happened?"
"Well Sam, he was using both his tool sets to rub his gearstick very slowly. Then the Guv told him he'd go blind if he did that and used one of his own tool sets to hold Sam's gearstick steady. Then he put it in his fuel intake."
"Has anyone ever told you you're a div?"
"No. What's a div? And what did the Guv mean when he told Sam he'd go blind? What's 'blind'?"
"It means you can't see where you're going like when your headlights are broken."
"So if a human plays with his own gearstick he'll go blind?"
"Yeah, like that human over there."
"Which one?"
"The one with the white stick tapping his way along the footpath."
"So that's a blind human?"
"Yes."
"So Sam and the Guv could go blind if they play with their own gearsticks? Oh, my. Oh, dear, this is terrible news. Are you sure about this?"
"Well didn't the Guv himself say so?"
"Yes, he did but I didn't know what it meant. Besides, they didn't seem at all worried about it and I wasn't taking too much notice because... well, you know..."
"I'll tell you what I know - you are a complete dill."
"What's a dill?"
"Say, where did your humans get to?"
"They went into that shop over there. Are you quite sure that humans who rub their own gearsticks will go blind?"
"Ah, sod it! Any other vehicle would tell you yes, but I'm an honest, hardworking ambulance and I have to tell you the truth. The answer is no."
"But the Guv said..."
"Take no notice. He and Sam were having a little joke."
"So when he told Sam that he'd go blind, he didn't really mean it?"
"No."
"That was sort of a human joke?"
"Yes. What he really meant was that he wanted to take over. You know, get in on the action."
"Oh, I see. Now I understand. So they really won't go blind if they play with their own gearsticks?"
"No."
"Oh, I'm certainly glad to hear that. I mean I was afraid they might not be able to drive me any more and then I might have to have a new driver and what if he wasn't very nice?"
"You are such a prat."
"What's a prat?"
"You are."
"Does that mean that I'm young, I'm speedy, I've an attractive shape and I'm a lovely shade of orange bronze and I shine very brightly in the sunlight - I've seen myself reflected in shop windows you know - and my parts are all in tip top working order? If so, I agree with you. Or if you mean it's because my suspension gets a regular workout because my humans are heroes who like to rub gearsticks on my back seat, then I also agree."
"Like I say - a complete prat."
"Did I tell you I had another anti-rust treatment?"
"You told me that last time."
"But I had another one last week."
"Another one?"
"Yes, it's my third. Nasty, smelly stuff. I'm so glad they didn't get any on my good leather or my nice, soft carpet. I know the Guv would be really angry if that happened."
"What a shame."
"Oh, you mean it's a shame that the stuff is nasty and smelly? Well the Guv says I'll last a lot longer if I have a regular treatment, so I guess it's one of those things I have to put up with in order to preserve my youthful looks. So I don't mind how many anti-rust treatments I have to have if it preserves my lovely, bronze skin - and of course other parts. So the good news is that I'll be around for many years."
"Just what I needed to hear. So I'll have the pleasure of your company for years to come."
"Yes, isn't it great?"
"Just ducky."
"I knew you'd be pleased. Say, how come humans seem to get so much pleasure out of rubbing gearsticks anyway? I mean if it was possible for us to rub gearsticks would we enjoy it as much?"
"No, we would not. Not at all."
"How about if we swapped differentials?"
"No."
"Rubbed tyres?"
"No. And it wouldn't matter what parts you name the answer is still no. We're not built like humans."
"I see. Humans must be built very different to us. Say, here come my humans now. Looks like lots of shopping for my nice, big boot. Where's your driver gone anyway?"
"Gone to get drunk."
Well along came the two humans known as the Guv and Sam and after what the jumped-up Cortina had just told me I decided to listen in on their conversation just to see if any of these tall tales of blow jobs and rubbing gearsticks were true.
"Look here, we've got enough groceries to last a month," the Guv says.
"Not the way you eat," Sam says. "Anyway we're cooking tonight."
"Pub."
"You can go to the pub any night of the week. Tonight we're busy."
"So why are you cooking tonight?"
They opened the boot and started piling boxes and bags of groceries into it.
"We. We are cooking tonight because tomorrow we're going to Wales. You remember. The Swansea police are holding Alan Richards for us to question."
"Who?"
"The witness in the China Lane blag?"
"Oh, him."
"Yeah, him. So on the way home you generously decide to let me drive but, since I have a such a poor sense of direction, I accidentally take a wrong turn. You complain that I never could read a map."
"Oh, I see. This gets better and better. Well, Gladys, just how lost are you planning on getting us? The Lake District? Land's End? Sodding Brighton Pier? Maybe the Outer Hebrides?"
"Oh, ha-ha."
"Well anything's possible with you. Feel like I'm in flipping Oz."
"I was thinking the Brecon Beacons."
"Where?"
"Don't tell me you've never heard of it. It's been a national park since 1957."
"Oh, trust you to know that, Gladys. And what if some blagger decides to shoot some poor sodding bystander and we have to race back here p.d.q.?"
"I'm declaring tomorrow a day off for blaggers. The forecast is good and we're cooking tonight so we can have a picnic lunch tomorrow in some scenic spot with a gorgeous view. Oh, and I found an old picnic basket in your garage. It'll do nicely. Found an old camera too. Does it work?"
"Did last time the missus used it."
"When was that - your honeymoon?"
"Shut it, Dorothy."
"So we're off to see the wizard. Seven o'clock start."
"You are joking me."
"Half past seven, no later."
"God save me."
"I'll save you. God can save the Queen."
"Sodding queens."
"We can have an early night once the cooking's done."
"Good. I can watch telly."
They closed the boot.
"You can help me while you watch telly. Anyway you enjoy looking at my arse when I'm in the kitchen."
"That's 'cause you've a nice little fanny."
"Flattery will get you nowhere. Tonight we prepare food."
"You know you're worse than the missus ever was. At least she didn't expect me to help out in the kitchen. She knew her place."
"No wonder she left you."
"You know I might just have to get out the good old tickling stick later and give you a right going over with it. Remind you who's boss."
"When we're finished cooking."
"Gladys, only you could make a Cecil B. DeMille production out of a boring old trip to Swansea nick."
"Where would you be without me to make your life interesting?"
"Make my life hell you mean."
"Fine then. Take Ray or Chris."
"You are joking me."
"Then shut up and get in."
Well fancy that! Seems like everything the div of a Cortina said might be true after all.
The two humans got in and started to back out of the parking spot but the poncy Cortina went and had the last word.
"See what I mean? They can't even call it by its proper name which is a gearstick, not a tickling stick. But tomorrow I'll have a lovely trip to Wales and Swansea - wherever they are - and the Brecon Beacons - whatever they are - oh, and with a picnic basket - whatever that is."
"What if it rains?"
"They can eat on my back seat. Then they'll probably get around to rubbing fuel intakes and gearsticks some more. They're very fond of that you know. Now I understand what you mean about poofs. Poofs are heroes who arrest the naughty toe-rag humans, help little old lady humans and rub gearsticks together on the back seats of cars and that's just what my humans are - great big, real life poof heroes."
And with a screech of rubber it took off at high speed leaving a cloud of black smoke behind.
So now the clueless car thinks poofs are heroes... or is it heroes are poofs? Oh, now it's gone and got me as mixed up as it is. And fancy it getting its jollies with a pair of humans who rub gearsticks all the time. Well a lot of the time. Well at least from what it said.
Now it's gone and got me calling them gearsticks too. That jumped-up git of a Cortina has got me babbling nonsense and me a sensible ambulance who should know better. And here I thought I'd teach it a lesson, but I mean blow jobs? Rubbing gearsticks? Dipping gearsticks in fuel intakes? Never heard the like in my life!
Trip to Wales! With any luck they'll park the stupid thing on a cliff, the handbrake will fail - after the humans get out of course - and it will be bye-bye Cortina so I won't have to encounter the mouthy git ever again. What a nice thought... Still... a trip to Wales would be a lovely change. Oh, who am I kidding. I'm jealous - and I hope it pours tomorrow!
* * *
