Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. If I did, chances are that I'd have more money. And that my name would be "Anthony Horowitz;" therefore implying that I would be a guy. NOT fun.

WARNING: Lack of respect to actual physics, and bending of Newton's laws.

Italics - thinking

The Problem With Physics

Alex flailed his limbs frantically around in the air as he attempted to move himself. Nothing was working. He had tried his first instinct, to make swimming motions, and many other ideas besides that, but none of them had worked. Finally, he'd admitted to himself what he had tried to avoid; he was stuck.

This is pathetic, really, Alex decided as he hung limply in zero gravity, hundreds of miles from earth. Here I am in outer space to stop what could easily lead to the WWIII... and I've been stopped by my lack of attention in physics class. Alex was completely sure he was overlooking something important here. There had to be some way for him to move. Otherwise, how would astronauts do it?

Not for the first time since reaching the space-hotel, Alex gave a long suffering sigh. He really did have the worst of luck.

Snapping himself out of self-pity-mode, Alex forced himself to pay attention to the problem at hand. Physics... he mused. Nothing came to mind. Maybe if MI6 actually let me go to school, I would know, he thought spitefully.

"Arrgh!" Alex yelled to the empty moon-base. "Why do these things always happen to me!?" Once again flailing in a manner more reminiscent of a toddler than he would care to admit, Alex huffed. Anger still not abated, he gave one last, annoyed, air-kick of his foot. The next thing he knew, his shoe (already having been slightly loose from his light-speed travel there, and for general fashion) came flying off his foot, speeding towards the side of the room he floated in.

Then, an unprecedented thing happened. Alex floated a few feet backwards - pushed by the force he had exerted kicking the shoe off.

Alex blinked. Wait a second... he thought, a smile dawning on his face as he realized what he'd been forgetting. Newton's Third Law! 'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction!' Alex could have kissed his rogue shoe if had still been tied to his foot.

"So now what?" Alex asked aloud, deciding there was no harm talking to himself when he was alone. "So I need to throw things that way-" he pointed towards where his shoe was floating, "-to get there." This time, he pointed in the exact opposite direction, where he had floated towards a bit. But how, is the real question.

What did Alex have to throw? He looked into his pockets. All he had was a few pieces of (normal, not Skeleton Key) gum, and a piece of rope from his kitesurfing escapade a scant few hours ago.

Knowing they weren't going to work well, Alex chucked them towards his bobbling shoe with as much force as he could muster with his sore muscles. He was pushed backwards with all the force of a well-meaning baby. In other words, not far.

What else do I have? He asked himself, looking up and down his body. Well, may as well use my other shoe. It's not doing me much good up here, anyways. So, being careful not to drop it more out of habit than necessity (it wasn't like it would do anything else than hover), Alex untied his left shoelaces, and slipped the scuffed sneaker off his foot. Winding up like a baseball pitcher, Alex threw it as hard as he could, closing his eyes as if doing so would somehow give him extra strength.

This time, he was pushed back far more than he had with the gum and rope - a good two and a half feet. However, he was still nearly twelve feet from the closest wall - where he needed to be in order to propel himself towards the control room, or however he could stop this stupid bomb. Mind once again set on the big picture - being the possible deaths that the falling hotel would cause - Alex attacked the problem with new fervor.

Item after item he threw towards the opposite walls, driving himself slowly, but surely back. His jacket. His hat. Socks. Piece after piece of clothing was tossed towards the accumulating mass of floating clothing that had now built up across from him. Alex turned around, and immediately felt elated. Only five more feet! He thought, practically tasting his success.

Ignoring his instincts to keep as clothed as possible, Alex stripped off his sweat-covered shirt, throwing it harder than he'd ever thrown anything before away from him. He drifted closer, getting about two feet closer. That left three feet go go. Struggling, Alex attempted to reach the glass window just out of reach... but he couldn't. His fingers trailed off, missing the thick, metal bar holding the glass in place by a mere seven inches.

Alex ground his teeth. He'd been trying to avoid this. Once again sighing, the teenage spy took off his pants, leaving only underwear as clothing. As the blue jeans rocketed away from Alex's annoyed body mass, he was pushed backwards - this time finally being able to grasp the metal handle. Finally smiling despite the thoroughly aggravating ordeal, Alex used it to pull himself hand over hand, heading towards the doorway on the far side of the room - where he assumed the controls would be stationed.

Ages seemed to pass - time being kept only by Alex's erratic heartbeats.

Finally, a large control panel was in sight. Yes! Alex mentally congratulated himself, his inner-self doing a strange dance. Then, suddenly, his worst nightmare came true. Something moved to his right. Whipping around, Alex's heart nearly stopped. There, stationed in all his tattooed, muscle-y glory, was Kaspar.

However, it was not the man's appearance that scared Alex. He had gotten strangely used to the green and blue tattoo imprinted on the man's head. It was his words that nearly shocked him out of his skin.

"Why are you wearing James Bond underwear?"

A/N: Good? Bad? Overly-random? I think that I might have made it too... good grammar-y for a humor/parody story. Agree/Disagree?

Okay, and don't forget to press the button right down there... you know you want to. Reviewing is you passion.

~AQUAHINA