Disclaimer: I don't know nuthin' 'bout ownin' nuthin.'
Edited: 03/03/23
High-Admiral 1-ᛒ's log, date of entry, July 21st, 2082. The ADSS Ahtu has spent the past two weeks charting a rather large and radioactive nebula in the northeast of Arcadis' milky way. The only word we've gotten from the outside in that time is of the Shelia system's capture and the three Nug-class cruisers that had to return to Odyssey Station for repairs as a result. But enough with saying something whoever reads this undoubtedly knows already. The swarmbots we planted on the Federation starship have given us a wealth of information, the ship's named Voyager and is stranded in the northeast of the galaxy. It is equipped with particle beams and a type of ordinance that uses weaponized photons as their pep, but in other words, if push came to shove the Ahtu could easily destroy the minuscule ship.
14-ᛒ turned to 1-ᛒ, "High-Admiral, 3-ᛒ reports that a second ionic converter on deck seven has broken down."
1-ᛒ rubbed his head, "Then switch it out for the repaired one."
"We don't have a repaired one yet," 14-ᛒ replied.
"Then deck seven will have to go without washing machines until it is," 1-ᛒ said.
"Sir, ultrascanners are detecting a ship bearing point five zero one two," 2-ᛒ spoke suddenly, "It's Voyager, High-Admiral."
"Maybe we can sell them some-" 10-ᛒ started.
"No!" 1-ᛒ spoke quickly, "We're not selling, burning, or spacing any more garum! I know we're overstocked but that's no excuse to pollute this universe with fish sauce!"
"Can we sell them something else at least?" 10-ᛒ asked, "Making money is the prime directive after all."
"What do we even have that we could sell them?" 1-ᛒ replied.
"We have those two-hundred crates of strisne," 2-ᛒ suggested, "We could always use less of that."
The entire bridge crew shuddered at the mere mention of strisne. On the can it said it provided all one needed to live, but many would kill themselves rather than taste it for a second time. The thing about it was how good it looked, but once it was in one's mouth, it tasted like black mold.
"Maybe we can finally get rid of it without dumping the whole lot on some planet," 9-ᛒ smiled giddily.
"Yeah and probably poisoning it as a result," 7-ᛒ snickered.
"Mr. 9-ᛒ plot a course for Voyager," 1-ᛒ ordered.
"Aye, sir," 9-ᛒ said, pressing several buttons.
On the gigantic holographic map of the galaxy in the bridge's center, a white dot tagged with 'USS Voyager' appeared followed by an arrow that had grown from the white dot tagged 'ADSS Ahtu.'
"Lightspeed factor 10M, Mr. 6-ᛒ," 1-ᛒ spoke.
"Aye, High-Admiral," 6-ᛒ replied, pushing a lever forward slowly.
The Ahtu elongated unnaturally before disappearing in a flash of purple light as it sped off at fifteen million times the speed of light. Four minutes later the Yog-Sothoth-class super-battleship had traveled seventy-eight light-years, appearing several kilometers away from the spoon-shaped vessel, which was traveling at three-hundred-ninety-two times the speed of light.
"Match their course and speed," 1-ᛒ ordered, "Mr. 14-ᛒ, open up the comms."
14-ᛒ turned a dial and flipped a switch before giving the High-Admiral a thumbs-up.
1-ᛒ nodded, "Greetings unknown vessel, I am High-Admiral 1-ᛒ of the ADSS Ahtu, are you new to the nebula?"
"Slick," 2-ᛒ murmured.
"Shush," 1-ᛒ hissed.
A minute later the bridge's wall-mounted speakers crackled to life, "Eh, hello! This is the Doctor of the USS Voyager-"
"This is Seven of Nine of the starship Voyager," A second voice interrupted, "Why are you in the nebula?"
1-ᛒ gave 14-ᛒ a look, he shrugged, "We've been charting it for the past two weeks."
"Is your species resistant to the radiation?" The first voice, apparently the ship's Doctor, asked.
"No," 1-ᛒ replied, "We just have fantastic screens. The radiation is affecting one thing, however, small components, do you happen to have a spare ionic converter? We have spare food if you want to arrange a trade."
"You will transport with the cargo to-" The second voice started a minute later.
"You'll have to transport us," 1-ᛒ said, "I'm afraid we aren't equipped with teleporters, and even if we were they're mainly used for cargo."
It took the second voice several minutes to answer, "Fine,"
Ten minutes later 1-ᛒ, 2-ᛒ, 3-ᛒ, 4-ᛒ, and several Imperial Space Marine Raiders, all wearing personal CF screen emitters, stood in front of the many crates of strisne that had been packed into the Ahtu's cargo bay.
3-ᛒ looked up from an FTL computer, "Sir, our screens has been reset."
"Good, Mr. 3-ᛒ," 1-ᛒ spoke, tapping a button on the FTL computer attached to his arm, "Okay we're ready to transport."
Seconds after he said this, a most peculiar sensation overtook the eight, and the Ahtu's cargo bay faded only to be replaced by a very different room occupied by two people, a tall blonde woman and a balding man wearing a sort of uniform.
"Greetings, you know me, but this is Commander-Prime 2-ᛒ my chief science officer, Commander-Prime 3-ᛒ my chief engineer, and Commander-Prime 4-ᛒ my chief medical officer," 1-ᛒ said, putting a gloved fist to his chest and bowing slightly in greeting.
"This is the food?" The blonde-haired woman, Seven of Nine, asked, peering at the pile of crates.
"Why yes," 1-ᛒ said, pulling out a gravitic screwdriver and pointing it in the general direction of one of the crates, the lid of which immediately popped off.
1-ᛒ took out an olive green can, "This is strisne, it provides all one needs to live and it tastes great!"
3-ᛒ let out a suspicious cough.
"It's a nutritional supplement?" Seven of Nine asked, taking the can from 1-ᛒ.
"Yes, someone could live a long happy life only eating strisne and nothing else," 1-ᛒ replied.
3-ᛒ let out a second suspicious cough, 1-ᛒ gave him a look.
Seven of Nine opened up one of the cans with some kind of laser cutter and peered at it before nodding, "Your ionic converter is right here."
"It was a pleasure doing business with you," 1-ᛒ said, walking over and plucking a small wired device off of a supply crate, "Now teleport us back, we have to be ten-thousand light-years from here by tomorrow."
Seven of Nine's eyebrows climbed up her forehead.
"Tomorrow?" The Doctor asked, "Fifteen thousand light-years by tomorrow?"
"If we finish charting this nebula soon enough," 1-ᛒ said, "We could be there by today. Now teleport us."
"Could you transport us to the Alpha Quadrant?" Seven of Nine suddenly blurted out.
3-ᛒ and 1-ᛒ shared a look before the latter shook his head, "Sorry, no can do, that's straying too far from our course."
"We can take you through the nebula though," 2-ᛒ spoke, looking up from doing calculations on his miniature FTL computer.
1-ᛒ glanced at 2-ᛒ, eyebrows raised.
"5-ᛒ says that we're finished charting," 2-ᛒ said, "If we were to take them through it, our journey to the Ecstasy of Gold would only take several minutes longer. And besides, the Lord Commodore's expecting us tomorrow at noon."
1-ᛒ sighed, rubbing his forehead, "Sure, 3-ᛒ have some of your guys open hangar seventeen up so they can hitchhike."
3-ᛒ put a gloved fist to his chest in salute, "Aye, sir."
Eight minutes later the spoon-shaped vessel's landing struts extended and it touched down amid the thousands of Wilbur-class light cruisers packed into hangar seventeen.
Back on the Ahtu's bridge.
"Ah, ha!" Lieutenant-Prime 12-ᛒ said, standing up and plucking a mousetrap-like contraption off the floor.
"What didja get?" 10-ᛒ asked.
12-ᛒ held up a small limp tentacled creature with several toothy maws and thin cream-colored tendrils branching off from its tentacles, "This little bastard! Probably what's been causing those power fluctuations in our console."
10-ᛒ shuddered in immense disgust, "Disgusting, flush it down the toilet."
"High-Admiral on the bridge!" 662-ᛒ, an Imperial Space Marine Raider who was one of the two guards standing aside the doors to the bridge, said.
Immediately, the entire bridge crew snapped to attention, their fists on their chests and boot heels clicking.
"At ease," 1-ᛒ spoke as he walked over and took a seat on his command chair, "Mr, 9-ᛒ plot a course for the other side of this nebula."
"Aye," 9-ᛒ said, pressing several buttons, "Course plotted sir."
1-ᛒ nodded, "Mr. 6-ᛒ, lightspeed factor 100M."
"Aye, sir," He responded, pushing a lever forward slowly.
The Ahtu elongated unnaturally, and Seven of Nine along with the few awakened Voyager crewmembers felt an odd lurching feeling in the pits of their stomachs. The super-battleship disappeared in a flash of purple light, instantly propelling itself forward at one-hundred million times the speed of light.
Twenty-four seconds later, the gigantic spherical warship appeared in a flash of purple light directly outside the nebula. And a few minutes after that the doors to hangar seventeen slid open and the Voyager flew out, coming to a stop a few kilometers away from the Ahtu.
"We're being hailed, sir," 14-ᛒ spoke.
"Put it on holo," 1-ᛒ ordered.
The holographic map of the galaxy morphed into a middle-aged woman with auburn hair, standing on either side of her was Seven of Nine and a tall man with pointed ears.
"The Captain, I presume?" 1-ᛒ spoke.
The auburn-haired woman looked taken aback and the tall pointed-eared man raised a pointed eyebrow.
"How did you-?" The auburn-haired woman asked.
"You have the look of someone with authority," 1-ᛒ cut her off.
2-ᛒ muttered something snide as he went over the ultrascanner reports.
The auburn-haired woman raised her eyebrows, "Why thank you, anyway, I am Captain Katherine Janeway of the USS Voyager."
1-ᛒ gave her a smile, "I'm High-Admiral 1-ᛒ, commander of the ADSS Ahtu a ship that, forgive me, but must really be going."
Both of the pointed-eared man's eyebrows raised.
"Oh," Janeway spoke in a surprised tone, "Well, goodbye High-Admiral."
"See you on down the trail," 1-ᛒ responded, "End holo, Mr. 9-ᛒ plot a course for the Ecstasy of Gold."
"Aye," 9-ᛒ said, pressing a few buttons.
"Mr. 6-ᛒ lightspeed factor 100B."
"Aye, sir," 6-ᛒ spoke, slowly pushing a lever forward.
The Ahtu elongated unnaturally before disappearing in a flash of purple light.
/ / / / / / / /
I sat on my throne drinking a mint julep and watching an old movie called They Came from the Desert when just after I had taken a sip of minty goodness the movie stopped and a ringing phone symbol appeared in the screen's top right-hand corner.
"Accept!" I spoke loudly.
My movie was replaced by the distorted floating green head of the Specter against a black background.
"We have a bit of a problem, my lord," He said.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Remember that neutron bomb the yanks tested in the backwoods of Mississippi nine years ago?" The Specter said.
I motioned for him to go on.
"Well, the radiation appears to have mutated several red wasp colonies."
I sipped my mint julep, "Yeah, what size are they?"
"About the size of a car," The Specter replied.
"What make of car?" I questioned.
"Cadillac," He said.
"Cadillac! By Azathoth!" I spoke, my mint julep disappearing immediately, "Forgive me Specter, but I need to contact the Grand Air Marshal and the Grand Field Marshal, keep tabs on those wasps for me."
"Yes, my lord." He replied.
"End call," I said, "Dial Grand Field Marshal 1 and Grand Air Marshal 1, put them on a group call."
A second ringing phone symbol appeared in the top left-hand corner, and a deep tone began playing for a few minutes before the visages of the two Imperial Council members appeared on each side of the screen.
"Gentlemen," I spoke, "We've got bugs."
"Then why call us?" Grand Air Marshal 1 asked, "Have Urshu get rid of them."
"No, you dope! We have wasps, big ones," I said, "Well, we don't have them yet, they're off in Mississippi. Grand Field Marshal, I want you to take one-hundred legions away from the land beyond the gate and deploy them to the American border, put them under the command of the Field Marshal who's best at defensive warfare."
"It will be done, milord," The Grand Field Marshal replied.
"Grand Air Marshal, it's your new spy plane's time to shine, they are to look for Cadillac-sized red wasps flying in the border's direction and report any sightings to the nearest four legions."
"This would make a good movie," 1 responded.
"Enough of your japes!" I spat, "We have wasps to defend ourselves from. And I have to be at a game of primero in ten minutes! So goodbye gentlemen, end call."
The movie started playing once again and a mint julep appeared in my hand.
/ / / / / / / /
A mass of guards fired upon a beaten-up old fortress, blasting holes that dripped molten rock in what was the last Saderan holdout. Lavender plasma bolts ripped through the brick and stone and mortar, killing the thoroughly demoralized Imperial remnants on the other side.
Without a word, several guards wielding plasma-trionium sticky grenade launchers ran up and fired six times at the fortress' large gates. A few seconds later a series of gigantic explosions destroyed them and a large part of the area surrounding the gates.
Guards, their triangle vibro-bayonets extended, rushed through the still burning opening and proceeded to slaughter all Imperial troops and Oprichnina members within. After the job was done they dragged out two people, a man called Gimlet who appeared to have had both his arms broken in gruesome fashion and more importantly the now ex-Emperor Zorzal El Caesar.
/ / / / / / / /
July 23, 2082
Hartmond, Domain of Nashrir
8:11 AM MT
Inside a modified Kthecno Interceptor Mark VI, an FTL radio on the dashboard suddenly crackled to life, "Car 5502? Car 5502? Come in car 5502."
A zap gloved hand reached out and grabbed the mic, "What is it dispatch?" IT-8865 asked.
"We have a possible domestic disturbance at 721 Lotus Boulevard," The dispatcher replied, "Neighbors have reported some kind of altercation going on within a house owned by a Fabian Stafford."
"We're on it dispatch," IT-8865 spoke, putting the mic back, "Hit it."
His partner IT-8864 put the interceptor in drive and slowly pulled onto the snow-lined road, "So whaddya think?" He asked.
"Probably what they said it was, a domestic disturbance," IT-8865 responded.
IT-8864 snorted, "Are you serious? 65 it's never just what the dispatcher reports, remember that call about a vagrant mugging people for their belly-button lint?"
IT-8865 winced, "Yeah, that was one grizzly murder, poor bastard didn't have any lint."
The two Imperial Troopers reached a small innocent-looking bungalow on the outskirts of Hartmond, a small mountain town in what was once called Montanna.
IT-8864 shivered before popping the furred collar of the cold weather overcoat he wore, he along with IT-8865 stepped up to the light green door the former knocking on it thrice.
A dirty-looking young man with great bags under his eyes and a pale complexion answered the door.
"W-W-What can I-I do for you officers?" The man asked, his glazed-over eyes darting from side to side, he had an odd accent, almost as if he were a foreigner trying to do an impression.
IT-8864 glanced over at IT-8865 who looked quite bewildered, he felt much the same, "Mr. Stafford, are you by chance on drugs?"
"No! Uh, why would you think that?" Stafford asked.
IT-8864 and IT-8865 shared a look and a tiny nod before they both drew their nerve guns and knocked the man unconscious. The two Troopers had first-hand experience with how violent and unpredictable people on Lioferal could be.
IT-8864 peeked into the house, the very dirty cigarette butt-covered house, "Call in a paddy wagon, 65, I'm gonna take a look around."
The Imperial Trooper stepped into the home, nerve gun and flashlight held aloft. Everything about it was ugly, from the odd stains scattered about the floor to the tacky peeling wallpaper, which also had peculiar stains on it.
He was just about to draw his scanner to find out what exactly these mysterious stains were when a bang and muffled yelling sounded from a nearby hallway. Quickly rushing in the sound's direction, IT-8864 was greeted with the sight of a heavy wooden door held closed by a large steel padlock. A second bang caused the lock to rattle and the door to move slightly.
IT-8864 drew a gravitic screwdriver off his belt and used it to open the padlock before pulling open the door to reveal a very bruised woman wearing ragged clothes.
The Imperial Trooper had only the time to blink before he had a little over one hundred pounds of extra weight added to him. The woman hugged him and babbled in what he figured out was Russian.
"Um, there there," IT-8864 said awkwardly, he pressed a button on his communicator, "65, uh, I got something. I think we might need an ambulance."
"Calling it in," IT-8865 said with a note of confusion to his voice.
/ / / / / / / /
July 23, 2082
Hartmond Imperial Trooper Headquarters, Domain of Nashrir
11:07 AM MT
"A sex trafficking ring?" The two Imperial Trooper's boss, Chief IT-C552 asked incredulously.
"She says that she was kidnapped from the streets of Moskow, taken to an auction of sorts where she was sold to our druggie friend, Mr. Stafford," IT-8865 responded.
"Did you get anything outta him?" IT-C552 questioned.
"After I informed him of how he was facing either life in Blackrock or death, Stafford confessed that he was originally from Illinois and moved here after buying her," IT-8864 spoke, "He apparently isn't well versed in Antarctian law, as he thought the punishment for his crimes here would be preferable to what the yanks would do to him."
"How the hell did he get past the border?" The Chief asked.
"I think we can answer that," Replied a voice from the doorway.
The three Imperial Troopers immediately turned to face it, holding the doors open were two figures dressed in long fur-collared overcoats and peaked caps marked with an ISSA cockade.
"I am Kommissar 15-Λ121," The first and shorter of the two said, pulling out an oval-shaped badge stamped with an eye of Horus situated under an upside-down ankh, "This is my partner 15-Λ122, we hear you have a Fabian Stafford in custody."
"Yes," IT-C552 said, "But what would two Kommissars want with him?"
The two glanced at each other, "His name isn't Fabian Stafford, it's Tytus Brodowski, he's a contract killer originally from Poland who's suspected of being involved in a plot to kidnap the Emira."
The second Kommissar pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it to reveal a mugshot of a younger-looking Fabian Stafford holding up a sign that said 'Brodowski Tytus Departament Policji.'
"He bribed a now incarcerated border guard with seven-thousand counterfeit Darnats," 15-Λ121 spoke, "We want to know where he got that fake money."
"What?" IT-8864 asked, "Shouldn't you be more concerned about his ties to a group that wants to kidnap the High-Pharaoh's daughter?"
"We aren't concerned because anyone who's ever tried to do so along with their friends, family, and exes have been punished in ways even we wouldn't wish on anyone."
The two Kommissars shuddered, memories flooded their minds. Memories of seeing people fused to walls then rendered immortal, exotic animals that were once human and still were in mind being sold to the highest bidder, a man in a small stone room alive and burning for all eternity, never able to escape, die or stop the pain.
"I gather you two want to talk to him," IT-C552 said.
"Yes, we would love to have a little chat with him," 15-Λ122 replied in a dark tone.
A few minutes later, the two Kommissars stood in the interrogation room with a very nervous-looking Tytus Brodowski.
"Where'd ya get 'em, Brodowski?" 15-Λ121 asked.
"Get what?" The man replied.
15-Λ121 held out her hand and a metal baton extended from her cuff. Immediately the contract killer found himself on the floor, blood gushing from his mouth, several teeth gone and a series of small papercut-like incisions left behind by the evidently bladed weapon.
"The counterfeit Darnats. Where'd ya get em' Brodowski?" 15-Λ121 asked.
The man spat a mixture of teeth and blood onto the floor, "I don't know what you mean."
15-Λ121 brought the club down on his shin this time, causing the Polish killer to let out a pained screech.
"Where'd ya get 'em, Brodowski?" 15-Λ121 asked a third time.
"I don't know-!"
The Kommissar didn't even bother to let him finish before she jabbed him in the kidney area.
"Where did you get 'em, Brodowski," 15-Λ121 asked, emphasizing every word.
"I-I don't-!"
He was hit in the mouth for a second time, dislodging even more teeth than the first.
"Where'd ya get 'em, Brodowski?"
"The CIA," Tytus finally gurgled.
The Kommissar nodded, "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Brodowski."
With little fanfare, 15-Λ121 pulled out a plasma pistol and shot the man through the head.
The two Kommissars exited the interrogation room, "He was murdered on his way home from a bar, the killer skipped town afterwards," 15-Λ121 said.
With that, the two left the building and got back in their pitch-black unmarked Khtecno Neptune Deluxe.
/ / / / / / / /
PLEASE STANDBY FOR AN IMPERIAL NEWS UPDATE
A camera panned from a wall-mounted symbol of the Imperial Department of Truth to a stern-looking newscaster sitting behind a desk.
"Good evening, yesterday in a terrific victory, the Imperial Guard stormed the last Saderan holdout in the land beyond the gate. Two high-priority targets were captured, Emperor Zorzal El Caesar, who is now awaiting trial for war crimes, and Chairman Gimlet, who is also awaiting trial. Imperial Department of Truth correspondent Kami Nagao is on the scene, Kami?"
The camera cut to a young Japanese woman standing next to a heavy guard, "Lewis, I'm here with Tertium-Korpral 1-?5528, the guard who captured Chancellor Gimlet. Tertium-Korpral can you recount the capture for us?"
"Yes I can Miss Nagao," 1-?5528 responded, "My fireteam were tasked with clearing out the cellar, so we walked down the stairs to find several Saderans wearing wolf headdresses who we dealt with. Behind them, trying to open what we later found out was a secret passage were the Emperor and Gimlet. The latter tried to fight us so I broke both his arms."
"Thank you Tertium-Korpral. Back to you Lewis," Kami said.
The camera cut back to the newscaster, "In other news, medal of honor recipient Frederick Jones died yesterday at the age of one-hundred four. Jones was best known for successfully defending an apartment building for over a week during the Battle of Austin in nineteen-ninety-seven. And for his many contributions to charity in the years since the war."
/ / / / / / / /
Hathe Shascenal steadied herself as another Annari disruptor blast rocked her tiny ship.
"Shields are nearly down!" Shimo Thantee cried.
"Aft nacelle is gone!" Tosq Nasa shouted, her console sparking and consequently sending a large piece of twisted jagged metal into her neck.
"Divert all extra power to the shields!" Hathe shouted back, "Shimo can you give me a disruptor cannon?"
"Only the one we use to destroy asteroids, but that won't even scratch their navigational deflector!" Shimo replied.
"Fire it-!" Hathe started. She had been cut off by the simple fact that she and her crew suddenly found themselves pressed into the ship's ceiling then soon after the floor and once again the ceiling.
/ / / / / / / /
High-Admiral 1-ᛒ's log, date of entry, July 24th, 2082. The ADSS Ahtu is returning to its mission after reporting to Lord-Commodore Mochán aboard the ADSS Ecstasy of Gold. We are now en-route to a region of space belonging to a government known as the Hierarchy, a very interesting society that from what O.S.S.I spies can gather, is built around spying and gathering information.
1-ᛒ sat in his command chair reading a second-rate book about the third war with the Sky Outlaws, 2-ᛒ was occasionally glancing over just to give said book the evil eye. When suddenly, the entire ship heaved up then down as if it hit a speed bump.
"Roadkill?" 1-ᛒ asked, not even looking up from the drivel he was reading.
"Yup," 9-ᛒ responded, his mouth full of vinegar-salt-flavored potato chips.
Nephren Drive-equipped ships produced an odd effect, instead of hitting and subsequently destroying any ships or debris in their path. Those objects would be swept up and dragged along with it until the ship came out of lightspeed. 'Roadkill' was a term used by spacers for said objects.
"Debris?" 1-ᛒ asked.
"Nah," 9-ᛒ spoke, popping another chip into his mouth, "Two ships."
"Uh-huh," 1-ᛒ said in response.
"Should I stop, sir?" 6-ᛒ asked.
"No," 1-ᛒ waved him off.
A few minutes later the Ahtu appeared in a flash of purple light and with it, two small ships came tumbling end-over-end like leaves in a great wind.
"Scan those ships," 1-ᛒ ordered flippantly.
A minute later, 2-ᛒ turned to the High-Admiral, "One is from the Kraylor Union, three life-signs, one injured, and the other is from the Annari Empire, over one-hundred life-signs. The first has heavy damage to it, most likely caused by some sort of disruptor."
1-ᛒ nodded, "Hold the Annari ship in a stasis field and contact the Kraylor."
"Aye," 14-ᛒ spoke, twisting a knob slowly to the left before flipping a switch and giving 1-ᛒ a thumbs-up.
"Kraylor vessel, this is High-Admiral 1-ᛒ of the ADSS Ahtu. We apologize for bringing you with us, our FTL drive can produce odd side-effects," 1-ᛒ spoke in a rehearsed manner.
The holographic map of the galaxy morphed into a very peaked-looking female humanoid who said "Thanks," in a very rough voice.
"Our scanners show that the Annari ship has disruptors with a signature consistent with the damage to your ship, were you being attacked?" 2-ᛒ asked.
"Yes, they were chasing us because we managed to escape their blockade," Spoke the Kraylor after she had made a series of retching sounds, "But that isn't important now! Tosq is injured!"
"10-ᛒ activate the tractor beam, pull the two ships into hangar forty-one and make it quick," 1-ᛒ ordered.
"Aye," 10-ᛒ replied.
1-ᛒ pressed a button on his chair, "4-ᛒ, you are about to be needed in hangar forty-one."
Minutes later 4-ᛒ along with 889-ᛒ rushed into the hangar to see a female humanoid laid out on the ground being looked over by an Imperial Space Marine Raider.
"I gave her Oloxamine and Ascepaline," The Imperial Space Marine Raider said.
"Good," 4-ᛒ spoke, kneeling down and popping open his leather bag, he pulled out an antiseptic and sprayed it on the wound before pulling out a pair of forceps and slowly pulling the object from the Kraylor's neck. The Doctor then shined a pocket regenerator over the gaping wound which repaired most of the damage.
"Is she going to be okay?" The male Kraylor asked.
"Yes, but she'll be in a bit of pain for about a week," 4-ᛒ said, pulling out a bottle of small blue pills, "Have her take two of these a day, they'll continue helping her cells regenerate after the Ascepaline wears off."
Close to an hour later, the Kraylor captain sat in the Ahtu's conference room, along with 1-ᛒ, who was still reading the abomination in book form, 2-ᛒ who still glared at said abomination, 3-ᛒ, and 4-ᛒ.
"So why were you being attacked again?" 1-ᛒ asked.
"They were chasing us because we escaped from their blockade of our home planet," The Kraylor captain responded.
"Blockade?" 1-ᛒ said, looking up from the book.
Blockades had been phased out over thirty years ago due to the advent of planetary shields, or 'tinfoil' as spacers referred to them. The idea was that a small cloaked generator ship would project an impenetrable force field around a planet that would give off an EMP and cooling effect. Thus depriving said planet of electronics, food, and any kind of supply while also causing an artificial ice age.
"The Annari," The Kraylor said in a bitter tone, "They came to us as friends, gained our trust, then stabbed us in the back!" She spat before seeming to realize something, "You can help us! You're obviously from a very advanced civilization judging by the size of your ship!"
1-ᛒ glanced at 2-ᛒ, who shrugged, "Eh, sure," He said.
The female Kraylor looked quite shocked that 1-ᛒ had agreed, "Oh, thank you, bless you-"
"We only ask for one thing in return," 1-ᛒ said.
The Kraylor's look of joy immediately vanished, "Wh-What is it?"
"We ask that the Kraylor Union join the Sentinel Pact along with the Antarctic Dominion, the New Holy Roman Empire, the Second Swedish Empire, Greater Chechnya, and the Erkrol Federation," 1-ᛒ responded.
A look of shock returned to the female Kraylor's face, "The Sentinel Pact?"
"A military alliance that for eighty-six years, has served as a grand deterrent against attack," 1-ᛒ said.
"W-Well I don't have the authority," The female Kraylor started.
"Then let's find someone who does," 1-ᛒ cut her off, pressing a button on the chair he sat on, "Mr. 9-ᛒ plot a course for Kral Prime."
"Course plotted, sir," 9-ᛒ's voice came through the overhead speakers a few seconds later.
"Mr. 6-ᛒ, hit it," 1-ᛒ ordered.
Several seconds later, the Ahtu elongated unnaturally before disappearing in a flash of purple light. The spherical ship reappeared seconds later one-hundred-thousand kilometers away from the blockade.
"Mr. 10-ᛒ, target the lead Annari ship and fire a dark energy torpedo," 1-ᛒ ordered.
Deep within the Ahtu, several technicians wearing forest-green jumpsuits loaded a great silver torpedo into a large port which was sealed immediately after by a thick metal hatch. One of the technicians then pressed a large button.
A dark malevolently purple streak shot from one of the Ahtu's torpedo tubes, it traveled at nearly the speed of light, impacting the lead Annari ship a minute later. With a great flash of light, the entire blockade soon was engulfed in a swirling purple vortex which in the next few minutes dissolved, leaving naught but mutated-looking skeletons that once belonged to the Annari crews.
/ / / / / / / /
Director Aelius, head of the Imperial Department of Weapons Research and Development, swiped a keycard over a sensor mounted on one of the frozen rocks common to the uninhabited ice planet codenamed Logi. With a swish, the rock face in front of him slid open revealing a hallway inhabited by a balding man wearing a white overcoat and long black gloves.
"Director, we've been expecting you," The man said.
"Cut the crap, Maxwell," Aelius responded, unzipping his heated expedition suit and stepping out of it to reveal a nice five-piece suit marked by an Imperial Department of Weapons Research and Development pin in his tie, "The High-Pharaoh wants to know how Project Ishirō is coming along."
Maxwell's eyebrow raised, "Bad day?"
"No shit," The Director said, "Project Typhon just experienced a fairly large setback."
The head scientist frowned, "Oh, that ain't good."
"No! It isn't!" Aelius snapped, "Now how is Project Ishirō coming along?"
Maxwell smiled, holding out a clipboard, "Beautifully! Follow me please."
The two walked down the hallway and through a second pair of doors, these being much thicker. As they closed a pneumatic hiss escaped. The hallway eventually gave way to a mass of similarly airtight cells filled with all manner of things, dead-looking trees covered in white-green hyphae. Shambling stumbling creatures with sickly grayish-green skin, prominent tar-black veins, and tumor-like growths of varying size sprouting from their flesh and in some cases obscuring their eyes mouths, or both.
Large ape-like creatures covered in similar tumor-like growths and a thick layer of wispy gray fur which partially hid razor-sharp chitinous talons. Small creatures that floated about aimlessly using large balloon-esque growths and had needle-like blades sprouting from what may have once been wings. And tall humanoid creatures that looked to have been completely consumed by growths, resembling walking tumors. All radiated a sickly acid green dust that clung to walls and floors.
"As you can see we've infected birds, humans, and trees with the parasitoid," Maxwell said.
"And the ape-looking things?" The Director asked.
"Those are human too," Maxwell responded, "Some lose the ability to walk upright due to the infection screwing with their skeleton. This also makes them weaker and more fragile, see over there one of their arms cracked off."
True to his words, in one of the cells, a humanoid creature was missing a forearm. In its place was a stump resembling a piece of dry-rotted green-tinted wood infested with black mold.
"We've also found that the parasitoid is somewhat intelligent. The infected prove that, seeing as they can communicate using sounds that, in a way, resemble soft laughter. Laughter that becomes steadily deeper and more booming the more an environment is affected by the parasitoid."
"And how did you discover this?" Aelius asked.
"Ah! The CES, follow me please," Maxwell replied, before walking down another hallway, at the end of which was a lift tube.
They got in and Maxwell swiped a keycard over a sensor on the lift tube's wall causing the floor to open and them to shoot downwards, propelled by a high-speed tractor beam. Maxwell and Aelius were deposited two minutes later in the center of a large command room, where scientists busied themselves monitoring the CES or Closed Ecological System.
Maxwell motioned towards a large window overlooking an odd but massive assortment of equally massive different colored squares, "This is the CES, we built it to study the effects of Project Ishirō on a variety of biomes and ecosystems."
"Impressive," Aelius said, "Can you give me a closer look at one?"
Maxwell looked at a scientist who sat in front of a console, and with the press of a button, a large floating screen emerged from a slit in the ceiling.
"This is the Pollux IV biome," Maxwell responded. The screen showed a vast area full of bioluminescent flora and fauna, all seemed to be in some way affected by Project Ishirō. The flora looked sickly, near death, and out of their bases grew numerous hyphae, some small, others giant and radiating huge clouds of green dust. The fauna was covered in tumor-like growths and milled about in close proximity to each other while some individuals looked to be in the process of melding with the ground.
Aelius nodded, making a 'go on' motion.
The screen switched to a heavily infected tropical area, the flora and fauna in which were in a similar state, "We usually run these for about two weeks before glassing the areas and starting over, but in that time you can see that the parasitoid utterly takes over the environment it's placed in," Maxwell said.
Aelius smiled, "When will it be ready?"
"We still have a few experiments to run," Maxwell responded, "The High-Pharaoh ordered that we try to find a way to improve upon it, so we've been exposing it to various retroviruses and other such things, though we haven't had much success with that."
Aelius whirled around, "What about the slime?"
"The slime?" Maxwell asked, his brow furrowing.
"This is highly classified information, but millions of years ago, the High-Pharaoh discovered an asteroid inhabited by a life-form, a life-form that fed on energy, could kill living things just by touching them and was capable of duplicating itself using several different methods. During the war, ten cities were destroyed using it," Aelius finished.
/ / / / / / / /
"Well Leandro, it's shaping up to be a grand day at the Coliseum of Dominance!" Said a woman wearing an elegant business suit and a pair of slim headphones.
"It sure is, Iris!" The man who sat next to her agreed, "Today, fighting for the championship, we have this year's finalists, Alpha Centauri b's own Demon Swine!"
On one side of the coliseum was a giant scarred red-eyed armored creature that snorted gusts of flame from its nostrils and dug at the ground with a pair of horns.
"And Roberto from Talzar!"
Standing on the other side of the coliseum, separated from the Demon Swine via a heavy-duty metal fence, was a large automata armed with a nasty-looking buzzsaw and a net launcher.
"Leandro I'm just getting word that they're about to lower the fence so we can get on with today's show!" The woman, Iris, spoke.
With a loud clanking, the fence receded into the ground. Nearly immediately, the creature from Alpha Centauri b charged at the automata. Seconds before its horns pierced the automata's torso, it grabbed one and brought its spinning buzzsaw down on the creature's armored back, making sparks fly.
"The Demon Swine is really showing off its genetically-engineered durability, isn't it Iris!" Leandro commented.
"Yes, it is Leandro! Shahbanu Hermione's scientists may have created what will win them their third Gladiatorial championship title!"
"I'm going to have to disagree with you, Iris, with all the advances Shah Servaeus has been making in AI, Roberto is by far the most intelligent automata these games have ever played host to!" Leandro responded.
"That may be true, Leandro," Iris said, "But remember, Shahbanu Hermione's Demon Swine did beat last year's champion the Gray Ghoul during the April games!" Iris spoke, "And that thing had a martial artist's brain implanted into it!"
The Demon Swine jerked its head upwards and spat a gust of flame right into the automata's 'face' making it stumble backward, letting the Demon Swine go, only to clutch at its destroyed sensors. Roberto flailed its net launcher arm around before firing, missing the Demon Swine by inches.
"Oh, it looks like the Demon Swine damaged Roberto's sensors with that last gust of flame!" Leandro said.
With a snort, the Demon Swine whipped around and charged at Roberto. Who was impaled through the torso and pinned to the Coliseum's wall by a pair of pitch-black horns.
"It looks like Roberto's done for, Leandro!" Iris commented.
The Demon Swine pulled its horns from Roberto's torso and lifted its head high as if to brag. Meanwhile, the now-destroyed Roberto slumped to the ground, leaking a cloudy blue fluid from the holes made by the creature's horns.
"I'm afraid you're right, Iris!" Leandro agreed, "The Demon Swine is officially this year's gladiatorial champion!"
/ / / / / / / /
1-P521 peeked over the concrete and steel fence that guarded the border between the Antarctic Dominion and the United States of America, "Hey, do you have a pack of cigarettes?" He asked a US border guard on the other side.
"I wish!" The border guard responded.
1-P521 sighed, slumping against the wall of his tower, "Damnit! Why are we even here again?"
"Giant bees or something," 1-P520 responded as he used a wire brush to clean the gunk out of his phased plasma battle rifle.
"It's always something ain't it?" 1-P521 said, "First it was those satanic hippies back in sixty-"
"Seventy," I-P520 corrected.
"Back in seventy," 1-P521 spoke, "Then there was that serial killer 901 ended up shooting right in the face."
"I for one, like border patrol," 1-P523 said, climbing up into the tower through a hatch, "It's quiet, no angry marines confusing me for the guard that killed their great uncle in the battle of wherever, no bullcrap-"
"'No bullcrap!'" 1-P521 shouted, "Dude, border patrol always has bullcrap! Weird crap always happens when we're sent out here!"
"21's right 23," 1-P520 said distractedly, "Remember that drunk guy?"
"Which one?" 1-P521 snickered, "The nude one or the half-nude one?"
"Fuck you two!" 1-P523 snapped, "Why'd ya have to remind me of that horror."
"Guy threw a bottle of whiskey at you," 1-P520 said, "Don't be dramatic."
"I had to boil my uniform in scented water to get the smell of that crap out!" 1-P523 groaned, "I still smell it sometimes!"
1-P521 snickered.
1-P520 hummed a military march as he double-checked that he had enough ammunition.
Please Stay Tuned For the Next Action Chapter of The Bored Outer God II: Through the Gate!
AN: Please comment, tell me what ya think of it!