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The planet of Saris was a bit of a mixed blessing to the Imperium. On the one hand, it was very rich in resources, and the locals didn't put up much of a fight. On the other hand, it was so far away from anything that you could even consider calling a civilised world. Its remoteness really made it a bit useless.

So, the hot shots on Terra decided to appoint a rather… eccentric general, rather than waste a perfectly good one, who had grown famous among the Catachan army. This was General Krull. With a name as pleasant as that, what do you think the first thing he did as governor of his own planet was? Why, to declare himself the true ruler of the universe of course.

So, the big daddies on Terra felt that they had to do something, so they dispatched a legion of Space Marines. Of course, none of them ever returned. A little irritated, they sent a Junior Inquisitor along with three legions of Space Marines to try and find out what the problem was.

Three weeks later, the Inquisitor turned up back at Terra, rambling something about how Krull was the supreme ruler of the Universe.

Now Terra was sitting up and taking notice. Not only was someone dispensing so easily with the mighty Space Marines, but now they had some nutcase running around on Terra with no idea how he got through customs. Seeing no other option, they called upon Inquisitor Lord Jarskan, who had once served alongside Krull, to deal with the problem. With him, Jarskan brought the Irish-Cadian Legion ("Because the Emperor's Irish at Heart") and the legendary Commissar Friel, to try and return the planet to Imperial rule and restore peace to the galaxy…

Chapter 1

The Luck o' the Irish star cruiser floated menacingly over the planet of Saris, surrounded by several smaller battle vessels. Deep inside the labyrinth like halls of this big thing the senior members of the Legion were meeting.

"You still have not answered my question!" Colonel McNeilly barked across the table. "Who should play you in the movie?"

"I think it is too early to discuss such trivial matters," Captain O'Leary calmly pointed out. "We may die by the next page." Pause. "And it would have to be Brad Pitt anyway." There was a collection of groans from around the table.

"Brad Pitt can't play all of you," Jarskan pointed out. "That's just silly."

"And Samuel L. Jackson has to play someone," Lieutenant Finnegan pointed out. "He's in everything." There was a general murmur of agreement.

Seated around this table were five very influential members of the army, and then there was Finnegan. Each one represented a large number of troops. Except Finnegan, who wasn't fit to represent a burnt out match (he only had one platoon under his command). You might then ask why he was on the council. Well, his platoon had become famous after conquering an entire planet by themselves. Of course, the big shots on Terra didn't know that this was a rather small, under-populated world which hadn't yet got past the sticks and stones form of weaponry. It didn't matter; all that mattered was that this young (only fifteen) prodigy should be on the council.

Other members, such as Captain O'Leary, were slightly more respected. O'Leary had once attacked a city, single-handedly, and so won his captaincy. When asked how he did it, he usually mumbled something about needing the bathroom so bad he could kill.

Colonel McNeilly had ascended to power by displaying competence during battle (something virtually unheard of in this legion) many times, as opposed to the one-off flukes that everyone else got promoted for.

Commissar O'Riley was the perfect example of the Commissar. Anyone who looked like quitting was shot. To date, he had executed three hundred and ninety-seven Imperial Officers, over ten thousand guardsman, and twenty-eight innocent civilians (when the latter was brought up he always protested that they'd been blocking the way to the bar). He had a wee scorecard to show all these.

Lord Marshal Mailey, the leader of the legion, was the oldest of them all. By about fifty years. The fact that Commissar O'Riley hadn't felt the need to execute him yet was an achievement in itself. He was asleep for most of the councils, most of the day, and only seemed to wake up to eat and watch Eastenders (it had been the Emperor's favourite soap opera, so he had passed a law that it could never be taken off the TV. This is what the Emperor does all day- he watches old episodes of Eastenders).

And then there was Inquisitor Lord Jarskan, who thankfully wasn't Irish. Jarskan's had a habit of locating the most bizarre Imperial Guardsmen in the Universe, and hence unlock that potential to leave even the most intelligent of heretics scratching their heads. Hence, he came to the Irish-Cadian Legion.

"I wanted to be Tom Felton," Lord Marshal Mailey answered, without opening his eyes.

"But he's like sixteen," Finnegan said blankly. "That's like me saying I want to be played by Sean Connery."

"Yes, but I want to show how I've preserved my looks," Mailey told him.

"This is all well and good," Jarskan cut in. "But who's going to direct?"

There was a general "ah" from around the table.

Down on the planet, General Krull was in his really big, nasty-looking castle, having a nice little chat with his advisors.

General Krull was a man of average height, sitting with his feet up on the table, still dressed in the Catachan uniform (if you could call it that) that he'd been wearing since he was old enough to hold a gun. Around the table were Prince Varsk of the Saris Royal family, Captains Larenth and Tyshan of Krull's army, Cardinal Bryant, "Sir" Charlie and standing behind Krull was his trusted lieutenant, Lieutenant Jones.

Varsk was sitting uncomfortably to the left of Krull, being used to his nice big throne, dressed in the usual over-the-top fancy la-de-da stuff that he always wore. Next was Cardinal Bryant, who was dressed in the customary purple robes. Then, farthest away from Krull, was Captain Tyshan, wearing his green uniform. Across from Tyshan, Larenth was dressed in a slightly more casual Valhalla F.C. football shirt (he was an avid fan) and tracksuit bottoms. Krull had always supported "casual Friday." Jones was wearing his favourite jeans and a really over-sized T-Shirt.

The most interestingly dressed member of the party was Charlie, who was wearing his pyjamas. It was near his bed time you see, because he was five. Why Krull had hired a five-year-old as his advisor was anybody's guess (most people suspected he'd been on the wrong end of one too many orbital bombardments) but he seemed to take Charlie's advice a lot more seriously that any of his other advisors.

"First order of business gentlemen," Krull said. "What do we do about this company picnic to Terra? I'd promised the lads we'd have one before Christmas, but it looks like our invasion of Terra may have hit a bit of a setback."

"The Cadians just off-world?" Tyshan asked hopefully.

"Don't be ridiculous," Krull snapped. "They'll be gone by Thursday. It's that it clashes with the football season, and I can't miss any of Catachan United's matches."

"What a shame that would be," Larenth joked.

"What are you laughing at ice-boy? This year we'll win the league."

"I think I have a solution sir," Tyshan popped up. Krull ignored him.

"What about you Charlie, do you have any ideas?" Krull asked the child.

"Yay!" Charlie shouted, looking up from the picture he'd been drawing. "Picnic! Picnic!"

"Okay," Krull said, as if Charlie had just come up with the greatest idea he'd ever heard. "We'll have the picnic this weekend, but where?"

"Disneyland?" Tyshan said mockingly.

"Shut up if you like the number of testicles you have Tyshan!" Krull roared.

"Disneyland!" Charlie said.

"Brilliant!" Krull said in awe. "We'll go to Disneyland!"

"But sir, I just-"Tyshan started, but he was cut off by Krull taking a shot at him. Luckily for Tyshan he had a natural ability of know when to duck.

"Well, we're well on track here," Krull said, putting down the gun. "We'll have the picnic next week at Disneyland! Jones! Make sure they have the big roller coaster working!"

"Yes sir!" Jones said with a salute, before marching out of the room as if he'd just been given a VERY important mission. And compared to the crap Krull usually set him, it was.

"Next order of business," Krull said, taking out his notebook. "Who's responsible for the floater in the upstairs toilet?"

As the scene ended, Varsk and Bryant looked very upset that they hadn't had a single line of dialogue in the first scene. That's usually a sure-fire sign of how expendable they are.