Galactic Civilizations: RADIO S.O.S. EMPIER THREAD / BAR AND GRILL

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Do you still think GalCiv 1 is fun even with GalCiv II out?

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RADIO S.O.S. EMPIER THREAD / BAR AND GRILL

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by Citizen LORD TYRANT - 6/19/2004 2:27:42 PM

#1 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 2:53:33 PM

WHAT! THE!.....

YOU! WILL PAY! FOR THIS! IF IT'S THE LAST THING I EVER DO!!!!

#2 by Citizen Exar Kuun - 6/19/2004 4:04:02 PM

Hey MM77 its good to see you!!

Where have you been?

#3 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 5:39:04 PM

CITY OF HEROS

It would be nice to see some of my friends online there.

#4 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 5:42:11 PM

SORRY! GANG!...

I Guess I should start this story from the beginning....

GC PLAY HOUSE

#25 by Citizen Evil Steve - 10/27/2003 6:16:19 AM

just who iz MM77?

a Man of Mystery.....???
a NightFever.....???
More than a woman....???

NO!!!!!! NOT THAT BEGINNING!

MISS MOORE YOU HAVE A NEW BABY BOY!

NO!!!!!! NOT THAT ONE EITHER!

The CariElf Fanclub

#69 by Citizen moodgiesanta - 6/3/2003 9:58:12 PM This thread disturbs me immensely . . .

#189 by Citizen Blue Ocean - 6/12/2003 11:29:39 AM

I've been working on this for a little while, so I'll start it now. This one is dedicated to CariElf, but it goes out to you, TheQuack! Two chapters per post, four in the story. I'll post the other two tonight or tomorrow.

The Voyage - Chapter 1

It was stifling. The marsh's boggy air oppressed all living things within to the point that little life above a proto-cellular level could survive within. Some compared it to hell on Earth, or in this case, Skowbo II, just without the fire. The comparison failed to capture the gruesome monstrousness of the place. It was called the Skowbo Death Marsh, and from it few escaped. Only one kind of creature lived in that place, and its name was unmentionable.

Little of this had yet pressed itself on the mind of a young explorer currently orbiting the planet in a Mitrosoft manufactured Scout which he had affectionately named "You Piece of Crap!" He was preparing his evening meal, or what would have been his evening meal were he at home on Earth. Out in space, the concepts of night and day had little relevance beyond the arbitrary meaning the pitiful sentient creatures that travelled its depths assigned them.

The young man's name was Blue, and he had come to this planet with one purpose in mind. To this point, he had spent his life seeking a divine being, something amazing and beautiful, something not yet seen in the vastness that was the galaxy. He had travelled everywhere, without finding anything that could closely match his hopes. He had visited the Telnath crystal on the homeworld of the Drengin empire, but though the power of that artifact was palpable, even at a distance of miles (the Drengin let no Terrans any nearer), it was certainly not divinity, and it was not stopping the humans from crushing the monkeys in their latest border conflict. Various Precursor devices that had been discovered elsewhere in the universe also failed to impress Blue with the sense of wonder that he was seeking.

He spent the first two years after his graduation from the Hyperion University on Earth searching to no avail, until by chance he had wandered across a document deep in the bowels of the Omega Research center in the Altarian republic. It had described exactly what he was looking for, a force of good and light so powerful and wondrous that none had yet located it. The paper came from the Annals of the Altarian Society of Scrying and Psychokenesis, and thus had been largely ignored by the academic community as being meaningless, and, worse, potentially dangerous if heeded. It was well known that, for all their strengths, the cybernetic implants most Altarians used to correct genetic defects caused psychic impotence. Blue could find no confirmation of the Altarian lead in any other scholarly report, but after two years of fruitless searching, he decided to give it a go anyway.

So here has was, orbiting Skowbo, seeking wonder.

The Voyage - Chapter 2

During the sleep cycle, the "night", Blue woke suddenly to the sound of metal on metal, a screeching noise that he quickly ascribed to the regular malfunctions of the You Piece of Crap, until he heard the alarms blast out across all bands of sensation, psychic and normal. The alarms and the screeching were accompanied, strangely, by the sound of a duck quacking in the sound system of his ship.

"Malfunction, malfunction, auto-repair systems malfunctioning! Hull breach! Depressurization under way!"

Disgusted, Blue said, to no one in particular, "I hate ducks."

Abandoning all hope of sleep, he ran to the bridge, and noted with some dissatisfaction that an asteroid had struck the hull, doing irreperable damage that would probably cause a short end to his thus far short life.

"Computer, emergency descent, starting in twenty!"

"Emergency descent in twenty, all hands please proceed to the stasis tubes. Emergency descent in seventeen, all hands please proceed to the stasis tubes. Fourteen, thirteen . . ."

Blue was already prepping the one stasis tube on board to keep him safe during the descent. It slipped open, and he leapt inside as the computer said, "Five." Sealing the tube quickly, he prayed that the landing wouldn't do too much damage, and blacked out as the soporfic sealing agents filled the tube.

#193 by Citizen Blue Ocean - 6/12/2003 8:54:50 PM

If you thought the last part was good . . .

The Voyage - Chapter 3

Blue woke to the smell of smoke and decay, suppressed sunlight streaming through cracks in the metal above him. Groaning, he pushed the cover of the stasis tube down, getting it out of his way. He stood slowly, surveying the carnage around him.

The crash had completely destroyed his ship. There were countless gashes along the side, and the top was completely ripped off. Blue climbed to the edge of the opening and looked around. He was in some kind of swamp, an unpleasant one at that. His ships descent had carved a two mile long path in the trees behind it, but beyond that, there was no way to see further than twenty feet, with the dense undergrowth that surrounded him.

"Blast."

More than a little frustrated, he returned to the stores of his ship, grabbing the emergency rations and his lovingly cared for antimatter Shotgun, which he had bought at a Torian Antimatter weaponry dealer, and his auto-computing global positioning system. He climbed out of the ship, and began walking in the direction his computer told him. Fortunately, he was only about two-hundred miles from his goal. He decided that he could make the trip in ten days, since the swamp ended only twenty miles from here, and the rest was flat plains.

His treck through the swamp quickly became monotonous, with only the sounds of insects to accompany him. Gradually, though, another sound began to infringe on his ears. Intrigued, he began walking toward it. He thought, "No, it can't be. It must be a trick of the air, or something else. That creature can't live here."

However, as he climbed across the last gigantic root in his path, he realized that he was very and painfully wrong. In the pool of murky water just twenty feet ahead of him, he saw a duck, and not just any duck, a slimy, nasty, purple duck. It turned and looked at him, and opened its mouth. Then it quacked these words:

"HUMAN! Bow down and follow me, for I am the Psychic Purple Duck of Skowbo. That which you seek will never accept you, and the best you can hope to do is me. You have a better chance of beating a masochistic game than winning her favor! Follow me! Bow dow-"

He ended here as the muzzle of Blue's antimatter shotgun flashed once.

"Goddammit, I hate ducks." The foul creature's remains sank beneath the surface, hopefully never to be seen again.

The Voyage - Chapter 4

The rest of the journey was uneventful, ending as Blue arrived at a shrine made of stone, resembling one of the ancient Aztec temples on Earth. Strangely, there were two other humans at the shrine when he arrived, one calling himself MM77 (a droid obsession, perhaps?) and the other named Christopher Packer.

"We're the custodians," they said when he arrived.

"COUNTLES OTHERS have come to thiss place to seek what YOU seec," MM77 continued.

Christopher stopped him. "Uh, actually it's only been ten or twenty."

"RIGHT, wahtever."

"May I go in?"

"Certainly," they said in unison. "But we will go with you. We really don't need to guard her, but we go in with everyone anyway. Anything to glimpse her wonder, which never grows commonplace."

"You don't need to guard her?"

Christopher explained, "No, you see, no one ever really bothers her, and she turned the one guy who did into a duck."

"Yeah, we've met."

"Really?"

Blue nodded. "I took care of him."

MM77 clapped his hands excitedly, and said, "There used to be duck statues here, but we took them out after what we like to refer to as 'The Incident.' Who likes ducks anyway, though? All they do is quack quack quack."

They stepped as a group into the inner sanctuary, but words cannot describe what occured there. Blue left the room dazed in wonderment at the creature that had called herself CariElf. This was the divinity that he had been looking for, this was what he sought.

"What do you think?" the custodians asked eagerly.

"I think . . . I can live happily now, knowing there is some sort of ultimate force for good in this world. I cannot stay here, though. I could not bear the beauty of that creature again."

"We know how you feel. We have a couple of spare spaceships here, you can take one."

They bade Blue farewell as he flew off, free to fly the starlanes happily, without the sense of emptiness that had pursued him all his life, and hopefully without any ducks.

#202 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/13/2003 4:54:04 AM

Initiation

The swamps of Skowbo II were particularly nasty this time of year, but the small group of uniformed men who were looking up in the sky were not bothered. They had worked here for years. As one of them pinpointed the approaching shuttle, they walked to the landing pad.

"Well, here we go again."

The men approached the landing pad, and stood to attention as the shuttle landed. As the door opened, one of the men stepped forward, cleared his throat, and screamed:

"MOVE IT! MOVE IT! OFF THE SHUTTLE NOW! FORM UP IN ONE RANK! DON'T MESS AROUND OR I'LL MESS YOU AROUND!"

A bunch of startled-looking people were pushed off the shuttle, and into a dodgy-looking line.

"Welcome to the CariElf Recruit Training Centre, maggots! I am your recruit instructor, Sergeant I.M. Hard! You know why you're here! Not to worship, anyone can do that! You are here to serve, and not serve anyone, but CariElf Herself!"

"Many of you will not make it. There are so many ways to fail it's not funny! But for those who succeed, there is the greatest honor imaginable. You will serve the needs of CariElf as a member of the Secret Order while she is among us. There are jobs for drivers, bodyguards, cooks, agents, butlers, and many more, but they all have something in common. They need a strong body and a strong spirit. You could be called upon to defend Her glory at a moment's notice, no matter what job you take! Never forget that! You were all selected from the civvie fan club because of your strong faith. Here, we will test your bodies." The sarge put on a leery smile as he said this. "Corporals, take over!"

As the corporals started giving directions, the sarge saw someone watching nearby. He marched up, and saluted.

"Good morning, Mr President!"

MM77 waved off the salute.

"Easy, EASY SEARGE! i'm just here for a larf... you comin to the PARTY, or wot?"

"No sir, I'll be busy with the new recruits for a while."

"haha, your loss than! AVAGOODONE!"

With that MM77 headed off in the direction of a nearby temple.
A few recruits looked wistfully at the lights coming from the temple, but the sarge put them back in their place.

(This post is dedicated to the real Sargent I.M.HARD. Well, he was a bombardier last I saw him, but he ought to be a sarge by now. Okay, that wasn't his name, but he DID use it on some paperwork!)

#203 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/13/2003 5:12:19 AM

The Party

The party, put simply, was going off. Many of the most powerful vice-presidents in the Fan Club (all overlords) were there, including the famous Christopher Packer, and their incredible wealth meant no luxury was spared. Secret Order members were serving drinks, and W.C.a.r.i.E.l.f. was blaring out on massive speakers all through the temple. Many human overlords wNot all of these overlords were human, since some aliens had managed to convince humans to work for them, and dominated their own galaxies. One of these appeared to be a simple terran ape, but spoke with an amazing wisdom. Another, from a species best described as "psychic purple ducks", was known simply as TheQuack, and was responsible for the Secret Order. There were even rumours that the President himself was a droid.

None of that mattered here, however, for everyone was united in praise of CariElf. CariElf had even visited before, and had been amused by MM77's stunts with a teleporter. Some other Gods had appeared, just quitely watching the party with a smile and a beer. The Gods had many responsibilites to attend to, but the party raged on even after they had left. Eventually, many of the VPs started to leave, but a few stayed on. When someone found a bottle of tequila, it started to go downhill. They borrowed some fusion blasters from the Secret Order servants, and started blowing up each other's statues "for a laff", as MM77 put it.

Later... much later..

Quack opened the door, and started breathing in some clean air to clear his lungs. He decided a swim in Skowbo's Death Marshes was just was he needed. Actually, it was a bad idea since the marsh slime would do nothing to clear his lungs, but he was too smashed to care.

As he tried floating on the swamp, he saw a figure approaching. He assumed it was another VP headed from the party, and decided to play a prank on him. Most people loved his "Psychic Purple Duck of Skowbo" act...

#206 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/13/2003 6:00:14 AM

Security Breach

Sargeant Hard was on his way to the recruits' morning lesson, and saluted one of the VP's as he staggered past. The VP was too drunk to see who it was, but just carried on. "Must've been some party", he thought to himself. As he walked past the temple, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up. Something didn't feel right. Hard went up the stairs, deftly avoiding the shattered statues, and opened the door.

As soon as he saw the usual guards were missing, he drew his sidearm, and radioed in for reinforcements. Then, without hesitating, he headed in. As he approached the central room, he saw a flash of movement, swung towards it, and

"What teh? Dont point taht GUN at meh! I'm yer presee - prazi - PREZIDENT, thats it!"

Hard relaxed slightly, but was still worried.

"What's going on? Where are the guards?"

MM77 was fired up, and clapped his hands excitedly. "oh, us vee-pees wanted to DO something, so we sent thme away. we've got the place LOCKED DOWNE, eh, Chrissie?"

The other VP blearily looked up. "Ah, it's all good, really. You really ought to try a drop of this wine, you know what the doctors say about it..." He suddenly noticed the bottle was empty, and slumped back into a peaceful slumber.

MM77 was still going strong, but. "wow its lik my brane is ALIV im thinkig so muche good stuf, this ROX! I ROOL! What a prez! She loves ME, yeah, yeah, YEAH, SHE LOVES ME, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH!!!"

He went into an air-guitar solo.. but Hard shook him out of it.

"OHH @%&&#! !! Your way moore annoyin than the last guy..."

"What guy?"

"Oh, SHE came back, SHE came back to see my DANCE! I was so GOOOOD... the guy, he came when she was here, and we all went to see her and sing sum MUSAK, but she had to do... do... what did she have to DOOOO??"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention", the other VP said.

"Well... it mustve bene IMPORTNT! AnwWAYZ, she went away, and the other guy said he had to go. We lent him some corvette keys, he lookid like SUHC n HONNEST GUY! HEHehe, they woz YOUR KEYS! HAHAHAHH HOW FUNNYS THAT?"

Hard felt like smashing MM77, but suddenly realized something could be terribly, terribly wrong.

"DID HE SEE HER?" he demanded.

"Oh, yeah, he said seh was COOL, realy COOL, but I said he's wrong, shes not cool, shes HOTT!"

Hard immediately left and marched outside, where some Secret Order members were patrolling the temple grounds. One of his corporals walked up with a downcast expression, and the sarge grabbed him.

"Get in touch with Launch Control! I want my corvette's course tracked! I want security footage of the party in my office right now! Inform TheQuack we've got a Code Black!"

The corporal remained silent.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING STANDING AROUND, CORPORAL? GET MOVING!"

"It's... it's Quack, sarge. They - they just found him in the
marsh."

The sarge saw some Order members carrying a stretcher. He ran up, took one look, and had to turn away. The corporal started speaking.

"The doctors say there's nothing they can do. The cybernetic experts say there's a possibility - but it's risky. He'll never be the same..."

"It's the best we can do. Send him there."

As the men with the stretcher hurried off, and the corporal started giving orders to identify and track the intruder, Hard looked up in the sky and mulled events over in his head. Whoever this intruder was, he had brutally attacked the unarmed Head of the Secret Order of Cari-Elf in cold blood. This alone made him a threat, but there was an even greater danger. He now possessed a piece of knowledge that had the power to tear apart the entire metaverse. It was the sworn duty of the Secret Order to track down this knowledge, and silence all those who could spread it.

Sargeant Hard thought for a moment about what that antimatter shotgun had done to his boss, and his friend. Then, he slowly nodded. He would enjoy this hunt.

TO BE CONTINUED... tomorrow...

#211 by Veteran Killa Koala - 6/13/2003 8:37:05 AM

Lord Terrorstar Vice President Christopher Packer's diary. 2188
29 May
MM77 is acting strangely.
30 May
Today I had words with the Viscountess. Seems my adulation has been a bit down on expectations. Told to bring more chocolate.
31 May
The Princess made us paint the temple white today. Seems she hates yellow with a vengeance. Wow, after Her tirade I wouldn't like to be associated with ANYTHING yellow.
1 June
MM77 acting odd. Saw him reading a dictionary with a puzzled look on his face. I wonder what's wrong?
2 June
That oh-so-smooth talker Gerakken was over today. How can She Who Must Be Obeyed not see through his smarmy oratory? Had to leave when he began chatting in sugary prose whilst sipping pomegranate sherbets with the Goddess. What does she see in him?? Though he IS strikingly handsome. But surely Our Mistress doesn't go for that pegleg? Or...does she??
3 June
Who is 'Blue Ocean'? Saw a video of his latest exploits over in the Altarian sector. Seems pretty mean with a zorcher death ray.
4 June
That flea-ridden, smelly ape that was pathetically hanging around started pawing The Goddess and eating Boogies. Ugh. MM77 saw it to the door quick smart, thank heavens.
Had the Viscountess's favourite meal tonight- Duck a la'orange. Delicious! MM77 has many skills and many spices. Hmm. When I cook, The Lady Above Us All doesn't compliment me on my lambchops and 3 veg.
5 June
There just never seems to be enough time in the day to adulate. How does Acolyte Staffa adulate so much? And don't talk to me about Acolyte Sergey- he seems to adulate two, three times, as much as ANYONE.
6 June
Very odd. Read that MM77 got the Booker Prize for Literature. Must read his sonnets. The Light Of Our Lives loves poetry. I thought I had the market on poetry, but apparently not anymore.
7 June
I must be loyal. I must be loyal. I must be loyal. But, but, but, why does Our Goddess always smile at MM77 and never at ME ! Aren't I Terrorstar VP? I recite WORDSWORTH for sheep's sake! I can spell! I bring only the best vintage Pinots for Her! Most of us can't even understand what the Pres is saying! They ALL like BEER for sheep's sake!!! Why isn't She freaked out? Oh, the pain, the pain.
8 June
Have decided to impress Her by doing that programming course I was thinking of. But wait, I'm hopeless at maths! What can I do. What can I....wait, I have an idea. Let me sleep on it.
9 June
Read MM77's "Ode to Our Lady Of Joy Above Us". I just can't beat that. He is SO original, and so, so, adoring of HER. I can't think. This is killing me.
10 June
Gunner Gerakken was knighted today for services to Our Lady! The One On High actually LIKED his prose: "But what of our appreciation for Her Lady? Is that not a senselessly repeating compulsion? No, it is not. Though it can be repeated, each time is a unique emotional experience in itself. It is an everchanging sensation that defies words or Earthly explanation." Puke! Can you believe it! He's SO COMMON. Mr Lord Veteran **&^%-licker more like it!
11 June
I've decided what to do. Tomorrow is the party. Blue Ocean is in orbit and the Temple's -1 tractor beam will take care of Blue Ocean's dinky little corvette. And I know TheQuack can't resist a tipple or two. He'll start telling one of his long, long, slightly saucy stories and that'll get him in trouble with Our Lady Of Light and Darkness. That will be HIM out of the way. I can hide away on Quack's ship and abduct... no...LIBERATE Her Highness. Off to Norstrilia perhaps. Or that dump of a planet called Wardell. I KNOW she will come to like Pinot and Opera and Ballet and the finer things of life. Perhaps we can even do that cruise she always talks about on, um, The Love Boat. Yep. That's it. I've decided.
12 June
The party is tonight. All my plans are coming to a head. But I must NOT drink. Not even a sip from that special crate of South Island Pinot that Space Wombat and Kiwi Greg so thoughtfully shipped. Yet... Surely just ONE glass will be OK.
#212 by Citizen Blue Ocean - 6/13/2003 9:20:10 AM

Sargeant Hard thought for a moment about what that antimatter shotgun had done to his boss, and his friend. Then, he slowly nodded. He would enjoy this hunt. . .

The Voyage - Chapter 5

As usual, all was quiet in near space, 300 miles above the surface of Skowbo II. Blue was contemplating the wondrous experiences he had undergone there, and questioning his own choice of shooting the duck. It might have been a bad move. What if it really had been psychic? All sorts of complications, like haunting, mental instability, and who knows what else, could becaused by a psychic duck. Deciding it had probably not been the best move, Blue chalked it up to learning experiences, "Note to self, do not kill creatures claiming to be psychic in the future." He thought a moment more, then decided to add an addendum, "Second note to self, get more and bigger weapons."

"At any rate," he said to himself, "It might help if I get out of here sooner rather than later. Who knows whether the duck's powers might be affected by distance?" With that in mind, he shunted the Corvette's generator to full hyperwarp and promptly disappeared in a disturbing mix of quantum improbability and solar wind.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the surface of Skowbo II, everything was in a tangle. Most of the people living on CariElf base were trying to be of some help to the psychic duck, also known as The Quack, who against all odds had survived a full frontal blast from an anti-matter shotgun, something that should have, by rights, disintegrated him. However, he was in a bad way, and probably wouldn't last much longer. Finally, when all other resources (such as telling him to "shake it off," and kissing the wound) had been exhausted, they brought the duck to CariElf's outer sanctum.

MM77, being the primary eternal custodian, said, "Divin CariElf, will you plees heel this poor duc!?"

CariElf, should we venture to speculate as to her thoughs, was probably thinking something along the lines of how making that annoying fan into a duck had been her only bad move thus far in her life. After all, on many planets, duck is considered game for hunting or a good dinner. People probably wouldn't hesitate to kill a duck, especially an annoying one. Sighing, thinking how this was probably her pennance for a sole moment of indiscretion, she healed his wounds and changed him back to a human, with only a thought.

The poor duck-man immediately started blubbering, "Oh, thank you, CariElf, thank you, thank you so much, thank God for you-"

"Custodian?"

MM77 rushed forward eagerly. "Yes, mi luve and honor?"

"Please show this man to the door. See that he has a ship to leave the planet."

"YES MA'AM." MM77 grabbed the duck, who was still praising CariElf a mile a minute, and took him out of the antichamber. The Quack didn't even notice, so busy was he with his adulation (a commendable trait, to be sure, but only in the proper context), as he was shoved into a ship, which MM77 set to autopilot somewhere in the intergalatic regions.

"One less bit of COMPETIOTION," he thought to himself wickedly as as the air-lock sealed on the Corvette and it launched. Meanwhile, Christopher Packer was still in the antichamber with a slightly evil look on his face.

* * *

Amid all the ruckus, no one noticed as Sargeant I.M. Hard slipped off in his own Interceptor Class star fighter. Seething all the while at the injustice his friend, the Quack, had undergone, he decided to do a Rambo thing and go after Blue himself, despite Blue's more heavily armed ship. This might have worked, since Sargeant Hard was a very good pilot and could probably outmaneuver a corvette's defensive turrets. However, as it normally does in real life, the Rambo thing fell apart very quickly.

Sargeant hard had never learned how to work the sensors of a starship, as he had never had a need of them. All of his previous jobs had been with Defensive Star Command, a branch of the Terran Defense force. He had always been told exactly where the enemy was, and exactly who he was to shoot, hence, he had become very good at the shooting part without gaining a whole lot of skill with the sensors and other more complicated aspects of the ship. Apart from that, the emissions of a hyperwarp system are very hard to track, even for an experienced sensor controller. Worse, the Sargeant's ship was not even equipped with a high level hyperdrive, just a standard impulse drive and the lowest level hyper system (he hadn't envisioned a need for it). Worse, having never consulted the ships computer, he didn't notice that it had locked up about five years ago, and he had never restarted the system. The last thing he had going against him was that space is a very, horrorifically big place, and it is very, very easy to hide within its depths, especially for someone like Blue who had made his share of enemies, and knew how to get away from them.

However, this last factor never even "factored" in, as, by flipping the hyperdrive switch with the computer locked up, Sargeant Hard ended his life by hyperspacing right into the center of an asteroid. The resultant explosion was a fifty mile sphere that completely obliterated one form of sentient life that had lived among the asteroids, but, in the depths of space, this too was another thing that no one noticed.

#223 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/14/2003 4:45:02 AM

lol, chris - death is just an inconvenience...

Dark Forces

Sargeant Hard thought for a moment about what that antimatter shotgun had done to his boss, and his friend. Then, he slowly nodded. He would enjoy this hunt. He was a calculating man, and had coordinated many operations for his overlord. He had been an admiral and a general, a governor and a judge, a man of all hats. And, of course, he had seen combat in every form imaginable. Every overlord had many admirals and generals, but most of them were simple peons of no consequence. His rank was recognized among overlords - he was not one of them, since they used officer ranks amongst themselves, but he was the next best thing. He had the transponder codes to track his corvette. He knew the locations of the nearest corvettes on patrol, and pictured the pincer movement in his head. The master plan came together...

Then, a strange thought entered his head. That plan was unnecessary. He could easily take the intruder out himself. He looked around for the nearest starfighter. As he ordered the pilot out, he gave orders that no-one else was to pursue the stolen corvette. He had a nagging thought that this was familiar somehow, but couldn't put his finger on it. Shrugging, he fired up the engines. The navcomp came to life with an error message - it was missing a large part of the metaverse map from its database. One of the ground techs must have messed up. It was easy to auto-update it - even first-year peon cadets could do it - but the sarge just couldn't be bothered.

He flipped through several data screens, more out of boredom than anything else. Weapons primed... asteroid detected on current vector... no hostile ships in range... everything was perfect. A memory crossed his mind:

...

He is in an ancient Terran aircraft. There are so many switches, so many dials. He looks around. He is alone. Then he looks ahead and sees the mountain. He tries turning the steering column, but nothing is working. In desperation, he presses buttons at random. The aircraft suddenly picks up speed and aims straight at the mountain. He screams...

...

He shook himself back to reality. That dream had haunted him in the Academy, and he had always triple-checked everything when first learning to fly. Now, of course, he knew these systems like the back of his hand. He was well trained. He had nothing to fear. He could see the asteroid in the distance now, straight ahead. The warning siren was starting to give him a headache. But something told him he had to make the jump, no matter what. He flipped the hyperdrive switch...

---

Quack jumped around the corvette excitedly. He was in a very BOUNCY mood today. Was he going on a holiday? He must be, someone had set it on auto-pilot. A mystery destination, what a surprise! Quack loved surprises. He tried to remember the last good surprise he'd had...

The past came crashing down on Quack like a ton of bricks. He remembered the swamp, and the intruder. He felt where he had been shot, but there was no injury. It was only when he saw his human hand poking at himself that he knew something was different. He looked in the cockpit reflection, and saw that his royal shade of swamp purple had been changed to a boring human pink. His wings, feathers, even his precious beak, all gone. He had been born a psychic purple duck, but was now a human. How? More memories came back to him. He remembered the light. Then, he remembered the mission. He thought of Her words:

"Please show this man to the door. See that he has a ship to leave the planet."

Yes, he had a mission, blessed by CariElf, but how could he do it now? His super-human strength and swimming ability were gone. In frustration, he bashed a bulkhead with his fist. It hurt (as he expected), and he starting shaking his arm out. To his amazement, it started to change shape before his eyes. He stopped, and the arm appeared human again. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the arm. He felt a change, but dared not open his eyes. Instead, he focused on the rest of his body. Finally, he opened his eyes, looked in the reflection, and smiled. The Psychic Purple Duck of Skowbo was back. "Praise be to CariElf", he muttered. As he practiced, he saw that he could change his form between human and duck at will. This surely meant he had Her blessing to do what had to be done.

"One less bit of COMPETIOTION"

Quack blinked. That did not sound right. He knew something was wrong back at the base, and only he could fix it. For his greatest asset was not his super-human duck strength, but his psychic powers. If anyone could discover the truth, it was him - it was for that reason that he had been appointed Head of the Secret Order. Others had faith as strong as him, but his powers let him serve CariElf in a very unique way.

He tested out his psychic powers, and stopped. Something was wrong here too. He asked himself why he'd been so bouncy before, and probed deeper. Someone had been manipulating him! The stain of evil could not be hidden. He reached out with his mind, trying to find the source of this dark power, but his attention was drawn somewhere closer. He saw a ship and an asteroid. Quack looked inside the ship, and reached out with all his strength.

---

Hard blinked. He saw the "abort jump" handle in his hand, and tried to think why he was holding it. The interceptor suddenly came alive under him, bucking wildly as the emergency abort system kicked in. Hard saw normal space reappear, just in time to see a massive asteroid streak right past the cockpit. His battle-trained instincts immediately switched on, and he righted the interceptor's course with a few quick stabs at the controls. As he tried to figure out what had gone wrong, he scrolled through the interceptor's system logs, and a cold sweat came over him. He heard a duck's voice in his head, saying "I'll meet you back at the base."

#224 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/14/2003 4:46:33 AM

No Place Like Home

The initiate nervously climbed up the temple steps and opened the door. He bowed down before MM77.

"Excuse me, um, Mr President..."

"hey, a NEW FAN! you made the rite choic, betcha glad your here hunh?"

"Absolutely, sir! I was wondering if you could show me around the temple?"

"oh YEAH, its a gr8 place, you gota see all this..."

MM77 started walking towards a room full of CariElf artifacts when he felt the initiate grab his neck and push him against the wall. He turned around, spluttering, and saw a duck's head looking at him.

"You really should pay more attention to security", the initiate quacked.

---

cari-cari-cari-elf, la la la, LA LA LA, i can thikn of ca-ri-elf, ALLLL, DAAAAY, LOOOOONG!!!! and back to the top, and a one and a twp and a one two thre for cari-cari-cari-elf, cari-elf, CA-RI-ELF...

There!

Quack filtered out the CariElf worship in MM77's mind, and found the same dark stain he had seen before. Someone had been manipulating him too. He took out the stain, and "tweaked" MM77's mind, so that such control would no longer work. Then, Quack stopped, before the mind probe did any permanent damage to either of them.

---

"oh MAAN, my hed feelz like its beene KICKED A PART! did we do those nasti tekeela shots again?"

"Relax, sir. Someone was just messing with you. I took care of it, and gave you some protection. They won't be able to do it again. The same goes for the rest of the base, everyone's clean."

Quack thought about mentioning what he had discovered while curing Christopher Packer. He knew Chris had expressed some unusual drinking preferences in the past, and had been disappointed to come second to a pirate in the last high-intesity "Poetic DeathMatch" the temple had run. Even so, the plot involving CariElf came as a surprise. Normally, it would be Quack's duty to investigate further, but he had other concerns at this time. Besides, CariElf faced no threat from a kidnapping, since she could teleport out in the blink of an eye. There was only one threat - the information - and that was being dealt with. He turned his attention to MM77 again.

"oh-k, say whatcha think of the BATTLE-SHIP?"

"Battle-ship?"

"Yeah, i just rememebred, SHE said you coudl take it for a spin, it goes betewen galaxies just liek the little ones!"

"Excellent. We have entered a new phase of galactic warfare. But first, I need a moment..."

---

"I think . . . I can live happily now, knowing there is some sort of ultimate force for good in this world. I cannot stay here, though. I could not bear the beauty of that creature again."

Quack, Hard, and several senior members of the Secret Order were watching the security tape, along with MM77 and some VPs. Hard threw a dirty look to MM77 as he handed over the corvette keys in the video, and MM77 just smiled nervously. Some of the Secret Order members started talking amongst themselves:

"As we suspected. His mind was not ready."
"These things happen to those who see the Gods without the years of mental training needed."
"He doesn't realize how far he's turned to evil. The powers have changed his perceptions."

Quack silenced them with a wave. "There is some good in him still. I can feel it."

"But what do we do? Do we kill him?"
"You know the rules. He's not a bloody peon! We don't kill overlords unless it's absolutely necessary. We just need to secure the information." Quack flipped through the file describing Blue's recent history. "Is he on our files anywhere else?"

"Hmm... that's odd. He's got a sensor drone registered in his name."
"So? That's common enough."
"Yes sir, but this one's one of ours, and it's in orbit here."
"So, that's how he got some of his intel. Impressive."

Quack brought up the planetary defense grid on a screen, and started talking to himself as he typed in commands. "DefSat4 online... drone locked... target not responding to commands... DefSat4 is cleared to fire." He tapped the console, and watched as the drone was blown to pieces. "Now, where was I?"

Just then, an aide entered the room with a datadisc. "We've intercepted a lead, sir", he said as he loaded the disc.

A camera view came up on screen, with a vast array of sensor information alongside in an alien script. Arcean sensor drone logs, Quack mused, as the UT turned it into English. But his attention was focused on the camera - it shows two pirate corvettes cruising past the wreckage of an alien freighter. They are preparing to jump out, when the drone logs indicate a new contact approaching. The pirates have picked it up too, and are moving to intercept. The drone picks up their hail:

"Avast matey, we be G.R.O.S.S! Cut yer engines, or we'll cut them for ya!"

The first corvette does not answer. Suddenly, one of the pirates swerves his corvette into his wingman's side. The pirates explode, and the first corvette carries on unhindered. Then, it stops, approaches the drone, and opens fire on it. The screen turns to static.

There was silence in the room. "He continues to turn to the dark side.", someone said.

Quack replied, "I can block him using his powers to some extent, but we will have to find him soon. Was that galaxy within G.R.O.S.S. space?"

"No sir, they were just raiding it. We've tapped into the empire's sensor net... there! Corvette landing confirmed, getting co-ordinates now...". The aide ripped out the printout and gave it to Quack.

"We have some agents working there, don't we? Inform them of the situation. Prepare my battleship, along with the corvette wings. We're leaving."

#225 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/14/2003 4:47:29 AM

Insurrection
The young leader was having a tough time. He had chosen a quiet galaxy to prove himself and claim the title of Overlord, but his biggest difficulty was from his own people. His economic management had been disastrous, and several planets had defected to the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. He got a report that Cassius Prime had been added to that list. He paid little attention to this, he simply sent a light transport of a billion loyalist soldiers there and moved on to the next problem.

---

It was ironic that the Cassius system was named after a Roman governor famous for maintaining law and order, as law and order were the last things on the mind of its peons. They had declared their independence, but when contacting the League, they were curtly informed that the League had no ships to help them, and they should make ready to defend themselves against the inbound ground force. There were well over fifteen billion people on the planet at that time, but the transport was filled with soldiers and ground-support pilots, not civilians. To make matters worse, the transport was equipped with mass drivers. Their fire had been inaccurate, but good enough to destroy many buildings and make the planet look like a cratered moon.

As Agent Jones watched the fighting out the window, Agent Smith read the report again. They were behind the front lines, and had evaded the loyalist troops, but he still didn't like what was going on. He reviewed the most recent incidents listed - on Wardell IV, an attacking force had narrowly wiped out the defending Drengin, with only a handful of soldiers surviving, but there had been reports of billions of people appearing, then disappearing. Many other similar reports had been filed at other battles, which had also been closely contested. Were they ghosts? Undead soldiers? No-one knew, but overlords were asking the wrong questions. The Gods were dealing with the situation, but a simple stop-gap solution had been devised: stop any close battle results. So here they were, on Cassius Prime, in the middle of a battle which, according to the numbers, the loyalists would barely win. This could not be allowed. Smith had suggested that they turn the battle on the side of the rebels, but Jones was against
the idea. He knew that if the battle was lost, even an incompetent overlord would send another transport to finish the job. No, these rebels were doomed no matter what. "It's time.", Jones said. Smith nodded, walked to the window, and watched as Jones set off the bomb.

With their command center and last strongpoint crippled by the blast, the rebels had no chance. The loyalists finally overwhelmed them, but at a great cost. That was of no concern to the overlord, as he knew they would breed rapidly. The agents saw the resistance fall, and checked a computer.

"Seventeen million."

"It should be enough to avoid a repeat of the incidents."

Both agents were interrupted by a new message on their earpieces. They each put a hand to their ear to hear it, then nodded at each other and moved downstairs.

#226 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/14/2003 4:48:42 AM

Balance of Power

Seventeen million survivors. It was a tiny number in cosmic terms, but enough to make the search for Blue Ocean among them difficult. The agents had already manipulated the local military to hunt down Blue, but they could only track his progress on the planet by the reports of loyalist soldiers turning their weapons on each other and recon pilots crashing into the ground. Quack watched from his battle-ship in frustration - he could protect all the people in his task force, and the people back at the base, but not another seventeen million at the same time.

The sargeant quietly went up to him.

"Sir, I know how you feel about using your powers for attack, but... we don't have a choice. Every second we let him run around, more peons are getting killed, and we can't do anything about it. The risk of the information getting out is too great."

Quack sighed, and nodded. He hated using his powers to manipulate in this fashion, but he had no choice. Blue had shown no restraint in using these powers - letting him run unchecked was no longer an option.

"Goddess forgive me" he mouthed as he closed his eyes and began to concentrate.

---

Blue was running, but more out of habit when being chased than anything else. Sure, he had been nervous when the peon soldiers started shooting at him, but his new-found powers made short work of them. He was starting to enjoy it. After a while, he got tired of running. When two squads of soldiers ordered him to stop, he simply reached out at both groups and ordered them to attack each other.

He was so obsessed with the havoc he had caused that he didn't see the agent with the stun-gun behind him.

---

"He's waking up, sir."

Blue heard a voice - he'd never heard it before, but it seemed familiar. His arms were tied to the chair, but he reached out with his mind, and recognized him.

"You can't be here, you're DEAD! I killed you off ages ago!"

Hard gave him a cold stare. "I remember."

Quack interrupted them. "Yes, you almost did, back when your powers were limited to altering perceptions. I see you've progressed since then - nice work with the soldiers. But you're still thinking in small terms."

Quack sighed.

"Let me show you." The duck looked at him, and blinked.

---

"Thanks, Quack, you're a legend!" Blue said cheerfully as Quack untied him. He was in a playful mood as Quack gave him back his antimatter shotgun, so he decided to shove it in his mouth and pull the trigger. All he heard was a click. He suddenly felt disappointed, and said "Could you tie me up again, please? I think I was more comfortable like that." Quack shrugged. "Hey, whatever works for you", and re-tied the knots. He checked the knots, then nodded and blinked.

---

"Would you like to go again?"

Blue was speechless.

"I didn't think so. I don't enjoy it, you know. But I have a job to do, assigned by CariElf Herself, and come hell or high-water, I'll get it done. But first, I need to know what you know."

Blue laughed. "I'll never tell you anything!"

Quack slowly nodded. "I know". Then he blinked again.

---

The image of CariElf had burned itself into Blue's mind. But, Blue had seen more than just her appearance. He knew how the Gods worked. As Quack probed further, he saw that the damage was worse than he had thought. He didn't just know the methods of the Gods, he knew their PURPOSE. Quack assessed the total damage, and reached a conclusion. Then he turned around and left the mind.

---

"Be grateful", Quack said as Blue woke up. "I have decided to let you live."

Blue tried to talk, but found that he couldn't move.

"Oh, don't worry, soon you'll be fine. Better than fine, in fact. We've got a great position lined up for you. You won't be able to keep your powers, but hey, you can't have everything. You won't remember any of this, either, but you will know that there is a good power in the metaverse. You deserve to remember that much. Besides, you'll have the power to be a force for good yourself... if you play your cards right..."

Just then, Quack's communicator sounded. Quack turned it on, and switched to a private channel. Blue could only hear one side of the conversation.

"Yes, Your Highness. We have him."
"That's not necessary. We can rehabilitate him."
"We don't think so, but if a relapse happens, we'll be ready."
"Very well."

Quack nodded at Hard, and the sargeant pressed a button. Blue immediately blacked out.

#227 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/14/2003 4:49:19 AM

Tranquility

Governor Blue Ocean smiled, and lit up a cigar. The planets assigned to his direction had finally been given some social grants, so they could build what he told them to for once. He had been assigned with turning a group of backwater planets into major research centers. He did not decide what to research, for that was not his place. But even so, he was one of the most powerful peons in his galaxy. He even reported once a month to an overlord. What prestige!

He had a nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something. He checked his build orders. No, everything that should be there was in place, and in the correct order. Everything was, to put it simply, perfect.

255 by Veteran Killa Koala - 6/18/2003 11:13:17 AM

A STORY OF LUST AND POWER GONE WRONG
(or Christopher Packer’s Revenge).

Warning: This story contains adult themes, coarse language and some sex scenes.

[Note: Some facts have been re-arranged or changed for dramatic effect.
All characters in this story are fictitious and there is no connection with any persons living, dead, or in cyberspace.]

Chapter 1

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

Chapter 2
Chris stroked CariElf and rubbed her soft, velvety ears. He muzzled CariElf's tummy. "Squee, squee", he said, in a rather odd voice. "Who's my pretty, little girl? My little cutie wutie pussie". CariElf's tail twitched and she sprang away. With a hiss she was gone. Chris sighed. Even Chris's little kitten didn't appreciate him today. Chris finished cleaning up CariElf's litter tray and settled down with a glass of Pinot and his signed copy of The Collected Works of Pontius. An hour later, with a disturbing image of Misty Hymen's swimwear in his mind, he put the book down. Where had Pontius come from? Where had Pontius gone? Were the tales of Pontius and Gunner Gerakken true? How, like true mates, they had lived life to the full in the sea of space. Dodged highly trained, snappy (tap dancing) sheep. Eluded the exploding sheep sent to horribly take them out. The exploding beer barrels had not harmed them. What dangers they had survived. What spirit they showed. Were they actually Aussies in pirate disguise, Chris idly thought? But no. Chris shook his head and sighed. The sheep sirens of the South Island held no allure for them, and no true ANZAC could long resist the sirens' simple charms.

Chapter 3
It was morning. Chris looked furtively around. He suspected that some one had read his diary. Across the 10 June entry there was written in very large, red, angry words: "Ah, Chris, the only thing common here is your jealousy. For in the end, I will not be a nice guy who finishes last, I will be the guy who finishes nicely." Chris read and re-read this. Who had written it? What did it mean? His brow wrinkled, for his Botox had not yet become fully effective.

With a shudder, Chris threw the diary in the furnace, quickly. He had written the diary entry in a fit of fury after the major disappointment of coming second to a very handsome and well-loved pirate in the last high-intensity "Prose and Poetic Death Match" the temple had run. Had he meant the words he had written? Of-course! To come second in prose, indeed! But never had he guessed another would read his simple words.

Chris turned away from the fiery furnace. And there stood that very pirate. The pirate's eyes glowed red with the reflected furnace fire. The diary pages crackled.

"So Avast, ye scurvy sheepdog! About time for ye to turn tail and retreat while ye can. We've run up our true colors. I just hafta loot yer holds for the wine casks first before we sail to Greece! Arr!”

Chris stared, unsure of what to say or think.

"Avast, ye mateys! The Reaper came and yer about to be boarded and plundered by GROSS. Say yer prayers and get ta running. If ye can stay ahead till nightfall, ye might escape us until the dawn shows us yer colors again! Arrr!”

Chris moved his left foot back, slowly. His right foot followed. He turned and ran from the furnace room. Chris's mind spun. How had the pirate gotten into the Skowbo II CariElf Temple grounds without an invitation? What had he just said? Why did he oscillate between much-loved prose and gibberish? There were no easy answers that day.

(To be continued)

#257 by Veteran Killa Koala - 6/19/2003 7:02:54 AM

Chapter 4

The afternoon swamp fumes drifted over the CariElf Temple grounds. With a shake of his head, Chris's thoughts moved on. Chris wandered through the grounds, aimlessly. Bounding about were Secret Order recruits, acolytes and novices. He stepped up short to allow the latest MWC slave gang to amble dejectedly by. Chris took the opportunity, as he always did, to slyly kick the last stooped slave in the line. And then a second kick when the slave was down.

"Peon", Chris said, with as much authority as he could muster. "Where were you captured, err, recruited?”. The slave blinked and groveled, for he had been told that instant and utter obedience would be required on this hellhole planet, in the service of the Goddess.

"Oh Lord Master, on Planet Wardell, our good ship the Iowa Tramp was being repaired, when that demon in human form surprised us!”. The slave flicked a fearful look at Sergeant Hard who was beating an Apologetic slave at the edge of the parade ground. "Our crew was distracted! The engine crew was playing 'Cop Her Knickers' with the spaceport girlygirls! The Bridge crew was out surfing. I was reading a book on cryogenics and frozen foxes. Others were idly processing the latest Empire reports." The slave whimpered and soulfully looked at VP Chris whilst clutching his arm wound. The slave thought: small in reputation and even smaller in stature, but tried to repress that thought. Too late! Chris saw even that small hint of derision in the slave's eyes.

"Take him away. Now. Indoctrinate this one first." Chris spitted with venom, gesturing grandly at the down-and-out slave, and stomped towards Sergeant Hard in a huff. The quivering slave watched Chris prance away with a look of impotent hatred. Thoughts of revenge throbbed across his brow. Chris should have realized that you never kick a mid-westerner when they are down, which is quite often.

Chapter 5

"Sargie!" Chris cooed. Sergeant Hard glared flatly at Chris from narrowed, red eyes. Chris well knew that Hard hated to be called 'Sargie', let alone be cooed at. But he hadn't expected such a reaction to his little ribbing. For a second Chris wondered whether he had gone too far once again. Humph, Chris thought, Hard does have weasely, red eyes. Eyes like a good Pinot actually. And a big nose. Chris glanced further down with a sneer. But then looked quickly up and gulped. And he thought; never trust a man who has really highly polished boots.

"Sargie, where are you getting these new slav...I mean recruits. Look at them. Scrawny. Simple. Common. Is there anything going on behind their eyes? I think not. As blank as the plains they come from. Lift your game, man. The Viscountess wants only the best", and with a flick of his fingers he pirouetted and stormed off. Sergeant Hard glared fiercely at Chris's departing back for long, long minutes.

Chapter 6

The fetid air of Skowbo II clogged his nostrils. The nasal twang of the Pres clawed at his ears: "More chocolite, more friut. Mangoes and pomegranates for Her Sublimeiness." Pres waved his hand sublimely. "Qik now". The Under Lords jumped around frantically.

"Yes Pres. Immediately" Chris found himself saying, as he hurried out the Temple door. Yet his thoughts were dark. Does he think bloody chocolate and fruit grow on trees? Where can I find chocolate at this hour!

Chris put his head in his hands and silently wept. Where had the fun gone? The nights reciting Odes to the Viscountess. Sipping pomegranate sherbets and listening to the gentle ballads on W.C.A.R.I.E.L.F. Why does nothing good last, he thought?

Chris hurried to his quaint villa nestled on a hill. A gentle swamp breeze wafted by in the night. But a silent, cowled figure brought him up sharp. Chris stared at the old, old man who clutched a long rough stick. "Who are you?” Chris's lip quivered. "Speak or I'll call the guards". Chris glanced behind him, but no guard was near. Both lips began to quiver. The old, old man leaned forward. "I have a sweet boon to ask of you,” he said, as he chewed his cud. His seemingly white robes ruffled in the dank breeze.

"Speak quickly old, old man" Chris said nervously, "I have chocolate to get for Our Lady of the Sweets. You know what they say, sweets for the sweet". Chris twittered with a high-pitched giggle. Damn, damn, damn, why did I say that, he thought with a groan.

The old, old man said: "You may know of my Order. We were once the White Council. But now we call ourselves the Council of Many Colours. To better represent what we really stand for". He winked. Chris shivered. That wink had not been a pretty sight. "We were once the greatest Order in the Galaxy. Now..." he shrugged and held back a sob, "our circumstances are much decayed. But yes, we again want what was once ours." The old, old man's eyes glazed and he flicked his stick into Chris's stomach. "And you will get it for us". Chris staggered back, with a sick feeling in his tummy.

"You can't mean" whimpered Chris, "the Telath Crystal? Or do you mean The One Ring?”
"Oh, ah, umm. I may have to consult our lore expert on that. At this point in time I’ll settle for either".
"I...I...I" (Chris stammered) "cannot get either for you. The Pres guards them with all his power. Not for a minute does he let sight of them go. And I shall now call a guard and have you..."

Woof. His breath left his body and he crumpled to the ground. The old, old man, his robes swirling gently, prised his stick from Chris's stomach. "If you do not get it either for me, don't expect to long live." With this he turned and shuffled away, chuckling maniacally. Chris whimpered and watched the old, old man's swirling, many-coloured robe disappear into the swampy gloom. Just before he was out of earshot, Chris yelled, “I knew the pretty colours would seduce you”. The old, old man heard, but he didn’t stop.

#259 by Veteran Killa Koala - 6/19/2003 8:09:13 PM

Chapter 7

The Pres glanced playfully at Chris. "Chocolate. Chocilate. Chocklate. Yum. Yim. Yumm. He. He. He. Ha, ha tum, de, dum. LOVES me, me, me". The Pres pranced into the Viscountess's inner sanctum; his hands filled with Chris's chocolate stash, and slammed the door hard in Chris's face. Chris glanced around furtively and sidled up to the door. His ear went to the door. He heard: "Now My Precious. My Sweat. Chocilate. Chocklate. Chocolate. Yummies for Her Yumminess." Her Royalness guffawed in a high womanly tone. A shiver went down Chris's back as it always did when he heard the Light of His Life. Only noisy munching could be heard for some minutes. Then the Pres said "Oh Shining Light. All of my chocolite I gladly give to My Queen".

Chris saw red. Before he knew it, he was inside the inner sanctum. The sanctum where none but programmers and the pres were permitted to go. "For sheep’s sake, it was my chocolate, my chocolate, my...". Chris's brow broke out in a sweat. He had never seen such a glare as the angry, high-pitched glare of the Viscountess CariElf. Her eyes were like thunder. Her fist a dreadnought. Her snear ripped his heart out. Her pouted mouth ate it.

The Pres shook his head slowly and quickly saw Chris to the door. After the door had closed, the Pres said, simply, and fluently, "The VP TerrorStar may have to depart and soon, eh Your Computerness? And what is that you say, perhaps he needs to be helped along?" He nodded and looked thoughtfully intelligent, despite his very, very young age. "Yeees, whatever you say mommy".

Chapter 8

Chris looked at the report, again. The report was titled "The Psychic Purple Duck of Skowbo Incident" and described in quick, precise prose how the unarmed Head of the Secret Order of Cari-Elf had been grossly injured in cold blood, just before the last out-of-control party. Chris looked up at Quack, who stood numbly at attention before him.
"Oh really?" said Chris, with a sneer. "And that is how it really happened?” A drop of sweat crawled down Quack's brow and inched toward his left eyebrow, which as it happened had been scorched away. Quack nodded dumbly. He was always tongue-tied around his hero. Short in height but huge in intellect he thought admiringly, looking at Chris.
"You can't be serious. The Purple Duck zorched by a tramp named Blue Ocean?? Next we'll have people coming here calling themselves the Yellow Sign or the Lilac Pussycat". Chris's thin lips distorted in an unhappy rictus. "I'm sorry Quack, but you should rethink your position in our happy, swampy Temple. Why, a dirty, little chimp could have done better. Get out. Get out now". Quack's somewhat handsome face twisted with shame as he fled Chris's office, holding back his tears. Quack felt grievously betrayed by the person he looked up to the most. His heart was torn. He couldn't live with this shame, or at least....

Chapter 9

Bluey's funeral was somewhat well attended. The four mourners chatted for a bit until one said "Coffee?". They grinned and nodded and without a backwards glance, left the room.

A slow minute ambled by. The back door softly opened and a hooded figure entered the room, a hammer and chisel clutched in his hands. Minutes later the coffin lid was ajar and Bluey climbed out of the coffin. The men hugged each other in a manly embrace and then sprang apart with a chuckle.

"You know I love you, man!" said bluey, "Although not in that way!". They laughed and playfully punched each other four or five times.

"Well, that ruse worked almost too well. At least now the Secret Order thinks I'm dead". The men laughed again. "But really man, I’ve gotta get out of here. This marsh is killing me,” said Bluey. "Is there a ship hereabouts, unguarded?".

The other man shook his head ncertainly. "Although... VP Christopher Packer does have his space corvette 'The CariElf' always ready to cruise". The men looked at each other speculatively. "Where does he keep the corvette's key rod?".

The other man grimaced, and said, with eyes downcast, "around his neck". Bluey nodded and punched the other man roughly. "You know what we have to do".

The other man sighed. “Yea I suppose you’re right. If we get caught...well. Might as well hang for a sheep, as for a lamb”. He waddled, wombat like, towards the door.

Chapter 10

Chris mused. How could he become well liked? How could he get CariElf’s highest awards: The Sash of Programming Deftness, or the Badge of Even Integers. How could he get the blokes to accept him as a mate. Chris wept, and reached for his empty wine glass. But his last bottle of South Island Pinot was empty. His eyes were heavily glazed. As Quack would so innocently say, he was smashed. He had a thought, but lost it. Then another, and this one he held on to. I know, I know, he thought. Chris sprang from his chair and dashed from the villa. He was filled with purpose.

Chapter 11

The new recruits brought in the beer barrel. They were now bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after their quick re-education. Their former lives in the cold, dusty plains of their home planet were now a distant nightmare. “Ho, ho, ho, and a barrel of rum” they sang, somewhat incorrectly. The gathered Overlords and adulators rolled their eyes at the grossness of the new recruits.

Viscountess CariElf had left the gathering earlier, ‘to get a bit of fresh air’ she had said. The Pres was seated on his pile of soft pillows, swaying gently to the chirpy sounds of Black Sabbath coming from W.C.A.R.I.E.L.F. Gunner Gerakken had been invited to the gathering to tell his tall yarns, but was now in his cups, staring disbelievingly at the mug of high proof Aussie beer, whilst swaying ever more dangerously and muttering “Arr, Arr, Arr”, and so on.

Sergeant Hard and Quack sat quietly together at the rear, their sharp, highly intelligent and handsome eyes darting around the room. Nothing escaped their sharp gaze. They knew all the questions and all the answers. They wondered, not for the first time, who the cowled, silent and stooped figure really was. The man was clothed in a motley tie-dyed robe and sipped the pomegranate sherbets with abandon. Mutton dressed as lamb they thought. Quack speculated on why the Viscountess had invited the mystery man to the gathering, but he had no answers.

A recruit tapped the keg and began to pour a beer. The recruit stopped in confusion and sniffed the beer, then slowly opened the loose keg lid. He screamed and with a gasp, fainted. Or as Sergeant Hard noticed, pretended to faint.

Quack limped to the barrel and looked in. Floating in the frothy beer was what appeared to be VP Lord Christopher Packer, with an angelic smile, or perhaps a grimace of horror on his pale, still face. Quack tried to look a little surprised. He caught the Pres’s eye. The Pres had sat back with a smirk and was waving indecorously. “Somethink soured the bieer?” he cackled, and smirked some more.

The pirate shivered, for he was very nice at heart, and not as cutthroat as his absent Captain. He edged towards the door, slowly.

The party soon got into full swing.

Chapter 12

The trial started a week later. But that is another story.

THE END

[Message Edited]

#5 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 5:44:19 PM

#260 by Veteran TheQuack - 6/21/2003 12:33:12 PM

Pawns In Transit

Sergeant Hard glared fiercely at Chris's departing back for long, long minutes. He knew Chris was plotting something, and tried to guess the details. It seemed like everyone had secret agendas around here - including himself. He remembered the simple days when his only responsibility was breaking in new recruits in the peon armies, when he marched out a billion recruits at a time. He had fewer recruits nowadays, but much more to teach. And then there was the politics of the temple...

He smirked as he remembered Chris's words. Only the best people, indeed. Maybe for the jobs which put people in contact with Her Highness - but there were other tasks. They were not as glamarous, but they were necessary for the survival of the Secret Order, and without the Secret Order things could fall apart. In many sectors, Official Cari-Elf Autographed Merchandise was worth its weight in gold. Some of the most prized items were pink cashmere sweaters. Hard looked over the newest bunch of slaves as they were marched to the sweat-shop. Even these slack-jawed yokels could be trained, eventually. Hard smiled in anticipation of the brutality ahead, and went over his lecture plan for teaching cross-stitching.

---

"You're all clear, kid. Now let's blow this thing and go home."

Agent Smith nodded as he heard the transmission from Agent Jones' stolen freighter, and readied the weapons on his starfighter. Some impudent overlords had thought up the idea of moving around galactic resources. Quite ingenious, Smith thought. Of course, such unbalancing actions could not be allowed. The Gods were considering the situation, but meanwhile, he had his orders: "discourage" overlords from taking such actions.

The agents had already manipulated events to cause uprisings against this galaxy's overlord. The fundamentalist rebels had attempted to sabotage a Terror Star, which was preparing to haul military-grade crystals to a secure sector. The rebels had quite a good chance of victory, but Secret Order agents did not take chances. Smith thought for a second about the rebel peons they'd thrown out the airlock when hijacking these ships. A couple blonde dudes, a chick with a hair fetish, and a Bobo-wannabee with a mean streak. What an odd crew. He turned his attention back to the torpedoes, and nodded as they sped out and reached their mark. The Terror Star was no more - the balance had been restored.

Smith casually scrolled through his starfighter's messagebank, then stopped at a new message. He opened a channel to Jones:

"Did you get the boss's message?"
"Yes. Pick me up, and we can go."

An escape pod was ejected from the stolen freighter. The fighter swooped over it, grabbed it, and jumped into meta-space.

---

"Are you sure about this, sir?", the sergeant asked Quack as he turned off the transmitter. "We cannot neglect our duties in the metaverse for long."

"True, true. But we have plenty of agents in place to deal with such things. More are needed here. The factions have increased their prescence on Skowbo. We must be cautious." Quack took another sip from his Carlton Cold, and started planning his next move.

#274 by Senator CariElf - 7/21/2003 7:45:56 PM

It was a strange temple.

The altar had no candles, but there was light shining from it--or rather, from the 21" monitor placed on it, and from the optical mouse. There was a keyboard, and speakers on the altar too, and all of these were connected to a ghostly quiet computer that nevertheless was running.

Stacked in front of the altar were cases of Mt. Dew and various forms of chocolate, apparently offerings from followers.

What was even odder was that there were absolutely no images or symbols of any kind in the temple, unless you counted all those zeros and ones that were carved all over the place.

#286 by Citizen KitWarrior - 7/22/2003 4:19:34 PM

The High Priests at the Temple of CariElf gathered in the break room. It was, after all, time for a break. Indeed, it was time for tea.

"I don't knwo what I would do without my little jasmine break, VP."

"Yes, Pres., without my dash of Pinot, I would surely loose control."

"What fun do we have sheduled for this evening?"

"More flesh frying and dismemberment."

Together they sighed out of boredom. After a few sips of tea, the VP continued.

"Although we need to make sure our slaves... I mean disciples, rinse all of the blood away this time."

"Yes, yes, good point. We still have that nasty odor from last weak."

Several peaceful minutes passed. Several sips of tea were taken. When they were finished, the High Priests returned to the altar for worshipping.

They had just gotten comfortable in a kneeling position facing the twenty-one inch monitor when a lone figure stepped through the distant entrance. Immediately the worshipers felt his presence.

"Who go there?" the President asked.

"I am KitWarrior," the man replied.

The High Priests turned their heads. A tinge of red emanated from their eyes.

The Vice President's face framed an evil smile as he said, "Welcome, Kit. We have been waiting for you."

Giving no recognition to the preceding statement, Kit strode towards the worshipers. He was carrying a large bag, which alarmed everyone present. The High Priests stood.

"Our Viscountess CariElf has summoned me here," Kit said. "In this bag I carry the hopes renewed prosperity."

The President and his Vice looked at each other. They laughed.

"Our Goddess is here before us. We hear all of Her messeges. She did not sumon you, KitWarrior."

"Perhaps all of Her messages are given in your presence, but perhaps you do not listen," Kit contended.

Kit reached into the bag and pulled out a yellow nerf ball. He flung it at the President, who did not flinch. The ball bounced high in the air, almost to the ceiling, but no one watched its ascent. They were too apprehensive about the remaining contents of the bag.

Next was a small plastic party horn. Kit blew into it and it made a silly squeeeeee sound. He tossed the horn to the VP, who did not catch it.

With both hands Kit pulled a large foam cowboy hat out of the bag. He placed it firmly on his own head.

The hat was followed by a handful of small rubber balls. They were hurtled over the altar and after reaching the far wall, they bounced in many different directions.

Kit then removed a portable radio from the bag. He turned it on.

"Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff"

"ENOUGH!" the VP bellowed.

The President said nothing. He stood twitching as a small rubber ball bounced off the side of his head.

"You have desecrated the Temple of CariElf, demon!"

"We shall see, my furry friend," Kit replied calmly. He paused to adjust his cowboy hat to a brazen angle. "Our Viscountess shall share Her wisdom and reveal a new order."

#282 by Citizen MM77 - 7/21/2003 10:11:49 PM

If I hear about CariElf touching KitWarrior ONE MORE TIME! I WON'T BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS!!!!

Drop Bear,

Your not the ONLY ONE that feels SICK!

Knowing that CariElf touched KitWarrior RALLLLLLLLHP!

THATS IT! The SHIP door is PADLOCKED! and KitWarrior is inside as it SINKS to the BOTTOM of the SEA!
* the end *

I love happy endings ( sniff ... slob...sniff...)

#284 by Senator CariElf - 7/22/2003 12:18:01 PM

However, there was an air bubble in the ship that preserved his life until CariElf raised the ship from the depths.

Her image appeared then, over the water. "My children," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. "It grieves me so to see you fighting like this. All of you are equal in my sight, so do unto each other as you would have done to you."

And then there was only the wind, blowing over the sea...

#287 by Citizen MM77 - 7/22/2003 9:05:18 PM

( MM77 feels KitWarriors life signs returning. The Sentinel returns to the ship by mear thought he dismantles the ship and pulls KitWarrior to him. KitWarrior semiconscience body dangles in front of MM77 in air )

* MM77 * I lock him in a ship that is sinking to the bottom of the sea with a hole in it dose he swim out the HOLE NO! Dose he drown NO! WHY?

( As if answering himself knowing CariElf had SPEARED KitWarriors life. )

* MM77 * I NEED A DRINK!

( MM77 appears in the temple and GRABS a nice COLD MOUNTAIN DEW )

* MM77 * How many dose this one make, lets see.....1000110010100111.......ah..I better mark it on the wall.....

( As you can see MM77 DRINKS A LOT when he displeases his goddess. )

#304 by Veteran TheQuack - 7/30/2003 3:11:12 AM

"Are you sure the escape pod landed here?"
"That's what the spy-sat said."
"Bloody thing must be out of whack again."
"Hang on, my scanner's got a hard echo - two hundred metres, that way."

The two Secret Order agents started stomping through the muddy swamps of Skowbo. The visibility at this time of night was very poor, but they could now make out the pod's silouhette in the distance. As they approached it, one drew his sidearm while the other opened the door, looked inside...

... and saw a purple duck. He was dressed in a strange uniform, and appeared to be asleep, muttering strange things like "On parade! A-ten-SHUN! By the right, number!"

The agents looked at each other, then tried to wake the duck up.

"Sir? Are you allright, sir?"

The duck looked up with a start.

"Hmm? Oh, hey, what's doing? I've been stuck in Melbourne the last few weeks on this reserves course... waking up early, no net access, all that good stuff. Mmm, is that Gengsta Goulash cooking? I could use some good food..."

#326 by Veteran Killa Koala - 8/30/2003 10:41:09 PM

The Skowbo Swamp Prose Competition

It came to pass that another Prose Competition was held at the CariElf Temple on Skowbo.

The Viscountess CariElf had been feeling lonely since the Pres. MM77 left temporarily for the Galactic Peace Ball, and in his absence she saw a window of opportunity for some dramatic adulation.

The Viscountess also missed ‘my Gerrakitten’ as she called him. Gerakken was a busy man, what with his spying duties and Galadriel being his wife and all. There were other reasons why Gerakken hadn’t visited the Viscountess on Skowbo for some time, but that is another story.

It is fair to say that the Viscountess had a particular softspot for Gerakken and of course the very young Pres. of the CariElf Fan Club. To be honest, the measure of her love and respect for those adulators was probably equal to the distaste she held for Vice Pres. Killa Koala and his tantrums. Nonetheless, Momzilla had often advised her daughter, “Elfie, sweetie, when you’re a Goddess you’ve got to take the bad adulators with the good”. She probably used slightly different words. Still, that is the gist of her advice.

The Viscountess, through her Publicity Officer, announced the Prose Competition and word of the event was broadcast throughout the human galaxy. Special invites were sent to all of the sophisticated and artsy empires. Although, a horrible miscommunication led to the ANZACs also being notified of this special occasion.

The prizes were rather special and created a certain air of expectation. Third prize was to be CariElf’s Sash of Even Integers, second prize was a CariElf Badge of Computing Deftness, and as always, first prize was an evening with the Viscountess.

The competitors gathered on Skowbo from across the galaxy.

The arrival

The battleaxe landed at the Skowbo Swamp Spaceport. Killa stepped from his ship, The CariElf, and sniffed the breeze. The feculent swamp stench caressed his nostrils. It was good to be back. He swaggered to the Prose Competitors Registration table and winked at the clerk.

“I’m back and I’m lean and mean. Register me at numero uno, clerk.”

The clerk flicked his fingers a couple of times and then pointed at a queue of would-be participants. “Go to the end of the queue and wait yer turn.”

Killa swelled with indignation and looked haughty. “You’re not serious! Do you know who I am! I am none other than The Terro Star Vice Pres. of the Order of CariElf!” His voice cracked on the last word, as he flung his arms wide, and waited for the gasp of embarrassed recognition.

The clerk looked up from his lists with mild interest. “Well, whatever. Be that as it may, wait yer turn. To the back of the queue”. Lethargically, the clerk pointed to the back of the queue.

Killa stomped to the back of the queue, fuming. He would like to have thought that this couldn’t happen to him, but unfortunately, it was a regular occurrence. Killa was used to suffering these daily humiliations and had decided long ago that he might as well make a virtue of his stoicism.

The competition

The verger rapped on the table. The gathering hushed.

The verger was weasel-faced and had a blotchy bulbous nose. He stared at the competitors unpleasantly. In a wispy voice he began, “Today, you have the honour of competing for the attentions of her exalted Viscountess CariElf. Not all of you will be successful. Indeed, some of you will be humiliated. However, that is the purpose of any competition: to create winners and losers. The Viscountess has no time for feckless or uninspired poetry and prose. As an added encouragement to you all, the Viscountess has directed that those of you who compete well and bring felicitation to her Grandness will be paid handsomely and allowed to leave Skowbo.”

The verger scowled at the competitors. “However, those of you who bring a frown to her Magnificence will be sorry indeed. There are many tasks in our little swamp that requiring willing or… unwilling labour”. He sneered at his last jibe.

The competitors looked at each other in dismay. It was clear that the Viscountess was not presently in a good mood. Killa had an additional worry. He looked around with concern. Although he couldn’t see Gerakken, he knew that the Spymaster was desperate to become a Diplomat. Gerakken would be lurking somewhere, and there was little doubt he would be Killa’s main rival.

The verger left the stage, and heralds announced the arrival of the Goddess. Shortly after, acolytes pushed through the audience carrying a curtained palanquin. Within, protected from uncouth eyes, the Viscountess reclined with a hookah, sipping a pomegranate sherbet. An acolyte rang the chimes to commence the first round. The competition began.

The Final Round

Time had passed. It was the final day of competition.

Killa blew his nose and wrung his paws. He had scraped into the final round by the skin of his teeth. The moment of truth approached. But he was worried: very worried. In the Quarter Finals, Killa had to bring out one of his best poems in order to beat the Yor and its stupid love ballad ‘000010101010101000011211010101000011’. The standard of the competition had been higher than Killa had ever imagined it would be.

Killa studied the list of the final three again. The ANZAC PieMuncher would start, followed by the pirates Gerakken and Killa.

The chimes rang for the final time and the gathering became as quiet as mice. The rocking of the palanquin showed that the Viscountess was making herself comfortable.

After a pregnant pause, PieMuncher, the ANZAC, leapt onto the stage and with thumbs in his trousers began.

The Wombat said to the Kangaroo,
"Gooday my friend, and how are you?"
"I`m glad you asked," said the Kangaroo
"I`m sitting here wondering what to do"
"I`ve lost me jump and got the hump,
So I can't be a Kangaroo Boo Hoo !!"

The crowd applauded the very short poem. The ANZAC rubbed his hands and said, “I reckon I ‘s just warmin’ up ‘ere. Next, I have a grouse one I reckon her Worshipness will get a cack out of. This here ditty is called ‘She’s Alright By Me’.”

Killa rolled his eyes. And so it went. It was going to be a long afternoon.

PieMuncher’s long list of little ditties eventually ended.

Without ado, Gerakken strode to the stage and with a flourish, bowed to the palanquin. He struck a pose and began.

I thirst for you,
my soul is dry, parched.
My mind dull with ordinariness.
With slow moving pulse, I wait for the time,
the moment, when your light enters the room.
Like the rising of a full moon, chasing twilight shadows away you bathe me in your soft glow.
My stream of life within swells, I am purged, refreshed, my weakness I confess without shame.
The joy of your sound, your presence,
your very aroma, excites my primal senses.
I am helpless, yet mighty is my passion.

The Palanquin rocked. Killa was disgusted. For though the rocking of the palanquin showed the Viscountess was clearly impressed with Gerakken’s hyperbole, Gerakken had chosen a piece which was neither short nor long, complex nor simple, and he had openly sought to milk every emotion from every word, especially at the end verse when he carnally leered at the Palanquin.

Killa slowly nodded. He had the answer to such middle of the roadery. Killa trotted to the stage and placed his hand to his heart. His right paw flung out as if to beseech the palanquin.

HAD we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave 's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.

Killa gave a flourish and started the second verse.

An hour later Killa came to the end. With a rasping sigh he bowed and left the stage. It had been his finest hour.

The Judgment

The cheering finally stopped. Gerakken waved at the crowd, and then slipped into the palanquin. The team of sweating acolytes lifted the palanquin and moved towards the Temple grounds, smoothly.

Killa held his head in his hands and shed silent tears. He had The Sash of Even Integers, but he had wanted more: he wanted recognition. The utter humiliation he felt made him inconsolable.

Losing to Gerakken again.

Killa finally stormed to the Judges table. “This is a travesty of justice!” he shouted, shaking his fist. How could my poem be rated third? Behind those stupid, little ditties! Didn’t you recognise how complicated my recital was? The sheer length of it! The pacing, the metre, the alliteration. The iambic rhythm! What the hell were you judging?” Killa burst into tears again.

The verger stood up and glared down at the koala. “We of course gave points for difficulty Mr Koala. But also points for dedication. We were not trying to solely reward sheer complexity of the readings, but how uplifted the Viscountess felt. The Viscountess clearly felt that each of PieMuncher’s many verses expressed a particular emotion, a degree of utter dedication to her Gorgeousness, which when considered as a whole, outweighed your one poem of overweening length. Mr Koala, any system must measure the love demonstrated by dedication as well as the cold skill of complexity and length. The value of each reading is in the eye of the beholder! No rating system can ever satisfy all participants. A rating system is by its very nature subjective, even when based upon objective criteria”.

Killa wiped away his tears and chewed on his knuckles. “Then why did Gerakken win again? His verse was neither long and complex, nor many and simple. Why Gerakken!”

The verger grinned. “Very simple Mr Koala. The Viscountess, Her Sublimeness, makes the rules. It is her competition after all. She decided she would have a better evening with her…Gerrakitten, than with you or PieMuncher. We gave points accordingly. Mr Koala, you’ll learn one day, that on this world as on others, its not what you know, but who you know”.

Killa grimaced, but recognised the truth of the statement. He well knew that who you know can go a long way. It was just that the more people Killa knew, the less Killa got ahead.

Killa left Skowbo soon after. A sadder koala but in many ways a wiser one too.

Note: I forget who wrote the first poem. The second is ‘A Beam of Light’ by Mick Leigh, and the third is part of 'To his Coy Mistress' by Andrew Marvell.

#388 by Veteran Killa Koala - 10/22/2003 8:01:49 PM

Note: This story was first published elsewhere, but is dedicated to a CariElf Fanclub fan.

Warning: Some major characters die in this story. Unfortunately it just goes to show that life is not fair. I tried to save them, but they slipped away.
Also, the personal hygiene matters indirectly referred to in this story were changed for dramatic effect and may not reflect reality.

The Search for Kit

Part 1

“I swear Wombie, if builders built buildings the way programmers wrote programs, then the first woodpecker that came along would destroy civilization”.

“Computer on the blink again?”

“Dead as a door knob. The Captain offered to let me use his. But… You know…”

“Too ancient, too slow?”

“Slow as. It’s a shame the new state-of-the-art PC I bought for him got broken when the…” Killa peered around cautiously, “…girls assaulted me”.

“Yea. Horrible. How was the month in hospital?”

“Aw, you know. The usual. Nice food, witty doctors, but so boring!”

“The weeping puss seems to have finally cleared up, hasn’t it?”

“Well, where you can see anyway. The infection has just been drained. I have to say Wombie, your missus has got a mean bite…”.

Wombie looked wistful. “Yea. Very strong jaws. Once she’s got a grab she doesn’t let go. You should see her with a bone”.

“Hmmmmm. And ya know what Wombie?”

“What?”

“I’m bored!”

“Bored?”

“Bored!”

“Tsk. My mum always said only the boring are bored”.

“Hmph. That’s what mothers are for. And ya know what Wombie?”

“What?”

“I’ve decided we’re gonna look for Kit!”

“Kit who?”

“You know…KitWarrior! Tall, dark, mysterious, evil”.

“Ah, Kit. Didn’t he get married or um, what’s the reverse?”

“Jilted?”

“Yea, or jilted. Didn’t he run off because he got married or jilted?”

“Well, he was always a bit fragile. Good shoulders, though”.

“I’m telling you. Married or jilted”.

“Really Wombie. I think there may be a little bit more to it than that!”

“And you mean to find out?”

“Exactly. And what we don’t find out, I’ll make up!”

Wombie chuckled. “Killa, you’re not like that. Anyway, I’m sure that Kit doesn’t want to be found. And is this conversation going anywhere?”

“No, I’m just bored”.

Part 2

Killa and Wombie fidgeted in their chairs.

The detective eyed them with a coldly curious expression. He stubbed out his cigarette, and lit another. “And you want me to investigate him? Find out where he is? Find out exactly what happened to him?”

Killa wrung his paws. “Yes. Yes I… yes we do”.

Killa and Wombie perched on chairs in a small, dingy office. The detective sat in a chair on the other side of a compact wooden desk, with his feet on the desk. A closed window behind the detective looked onto a brick wall. There was a dilapidated wooden bookcase with a few hardcover books against one wall. A bare light bulb with a metal shade illuminated the desk with a harsh black and white light. In a corner of the otherwise bare room was an umbrella and hat stand.

The detective wore an old-fashioned, yet well-cut suit, and a smart wide-brimmed hat. His face was weathered and masculine. He’d seen it all, and he knew it all. He had experience. He was cold. The detective’s eyes grimaced. “It’s gonna cost guys. Cost big.”

Killa blushed, glanced at Wombie, and reached into his clutchbag. “Is this enough?” Killa asked hesitantly, thrusting 200 credits towards the detective. The detective pocketed the money disdainfully and nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal”, he said with a wry twitch of his eyebrow. “You must want this KitWarrior bad. My first report will be with you within a week.”

Killa took a shuddering breath and slithered off the stacked phone books on the chair. Wombie shook his head and followed. At the door, Killa turned and said breathlessly “Oh, but you must be careful. I'm afraid of him when he’s been drinking. What he might do. Mightn't he...Mightn't he do something to you if he discovers you’re investigating him…following him?"

The detective shrugged without moving his shoulders. He stubbed out his cigarette, and lit another. “I can look after myself. Always have. Always will. This chap doesn’t sound like too much of a handful.”

Wombie looked up and frowned. “He might be savage if cornered, Mr Spade. Some of the stories he’s told me… And his military training... He was a Sergeant…”

“Do you want me to find him or not?”

Killa quickly said, “Yes. Yes, you’re right. It’s just that I’ve never done this before. But I…we have to know. We have to know what happened to him. He was so full of life. So vibrant. So much fun to be with. But now… he may even be married. I once heard a rumour that he had a wife and children on Skowbo II”.

The detective snorted quietly "As they usually do, though not always on Skowbo II".

The detective silently watched the fauna leave his office, with a curled lip. After the animals had gone, he tore off his mask and tapped his chin with a finger. Gerakken loved to play at ‘Sam Spade the detective’.

Part 3

Effie strolled into the office and closed the door. Gerakken was sitting at the desk alone, rolling a cigarette. Effie clicked her fingers to get his attention. “You’ve got a new customer boss. Better put your mask on. Oh, and this one’s a knockout…” Gerakken looked up with interest.

Effie showed a young woman into the office, and left, closing the door. Gerakken gestured to a chair. “Take a seat. I’m Spade. Sam Spade.” He eyed the woman. He was confronted by an innocent-looking, stunning brunette beauty, a nervy but cool woman.

She sat coyly, and looked around demurely. “I have many names Mr Spade, and many loyalties. You can call me Flowergirl or Cotal, I don’t care”.

The detective grunted. “Cotal will do. You’re pretty famous now, aren’t you?”

Cotal peered at the detective from under her fringe. “I suppose. I try to keep a low profile, but, I don’t know… things happen around me”.

“Hmm. What do you want Miss?”

“How do you know I’m a Miss? I could be married.”

“Well doll, I am a detective. I can’t see a wedding ring. And you’re wearing a nun’s habit. I’ve put two and two together”.

Cotal was impressed. “I’ve come to the right detective then. I…need someone investigated. It’s…personal. An affair of the heart.”

“What’s he done to you? Do you want him dealt with?”

Cotal blanched. “Oh no, nothing like that. He’s been courting me, and I’m confused. He’s a pirate and he wants me to forsake my Order and my empire and join him on his ship.”

“And he said he’d take you to Heaven?”

“Why yes! As well as Paradise and Earth!”

“Don’t they all. Have spaceship, will travel. What do you want to know about him?”

“What he does. Who his friends are. What his family is like. Mr Spade, I’ve been hurt before by a pirate. Kitten and I were going to marry, but he left me without a word. I was heart-broken. I couldn’t take that again.” She held back a sob.

“And what sort of guy is your latest amour?”

Cotal blushed. “Where do I start. He’s fun, and he’s witty. Considerate, handsome, shy, intelligent. Quotes poetry. Great to be with. Devoted to me. He’s a typical Aussie from Sydney. Tells wonderful stories: I still laugh when I think of the story about Sergeant Stubby. Did I say Quack is a duck? Well, a gander really.”

“Mm. Sounds quite a catch. If you’re into ducks. My first report will be with you within a week.” He stubbed out his cigarette, and lit another.

At the door, Cotal turned and said breathlessly “But you must be careful Mr Spade. I'm deathly afraid of him when he’s been drinking beer. What he might do. Not to me, but to others. He has a temper”.

“Don’t they all. I can take care of myself, doll”.

Part 4

Pontius stood up at the dinner table, and raised his glass.

“May I propose a toast to our dear friends, the ANZACs, on this historic visit of friendship. I feel that we have come to a mutual understanding. You understand your place in the galactic scheme of things, and we’ll help you stay there”. The pirates laughed.

Ambassador Evil Steve looked sardonically at the G.R.O.S.S. Captain and pursed his lips. The dinner party on the Ship of Doom was limping towards the cheese and red wine stage. The two waiters finished pouring the red wine for the official toasts.

Hurley and Jaws sniffed their glasses appreciatively. Hurley nudged Jaws and whispered “Blackcurrant and mulberry, with chocolate overtones, and perhaps a hint of…”
“Blueberries?” murmured Jaws.
“More like strawberry, and perhaps…”
“Vanilla?”
“Orange”
“More mandarin than orange I think”
“A hint of passionfruit too”
“Guava as well”
“Ah yes, and mango and a hint of charcoal”.

Quack looked soulfully at his beer as it was taken away, and picked up his red wine unsurely. He sniffed it, but it just smelled like plonk.

Emperor BlueSteel lurched to his feet and held his glass up, swaying slightly. “Captain Pilot, that toast was as dry as a dead dingo’s donger.” He slopped his red wine. “I gotta say, it’s been a grouse evening, here with our new cobbers. There’s no reason we can’t all get along like sheep in a paddock. We know yous pirates are as cunning as shithouse rats, and yous think we’re dingbats. But give us diggers a fair suck of the sav, and keep your paws off our shielas, and we’ll be ridgie didge.”

Quack finished translating to the Captain. As Pontius raised his glass again, Ambassador Evil Steve leant over. “Captain, is this the rare bottle of Penfolds Grange 2150 we brought especially for this toast?”

Captain Pilot nodded. “It was lovingly decanted in the kitchen. You’ll find that some pirates have a nose for a good drop. We’ve plundered enough of it, eh.” The pirates laughed.

Evil Steve nodded and smiled. “Excellent. May our glorious friendship last forever”.

Part 5

Cotal and Quack strolled along the quiet street. The rain was steady, and cold. Quack suddenly took his jacket off and swept it over a puddle ahead of Cotal. She looked at the gander adoringly.

They stopped to huddle for shelter under an awning next to a deserted blind alley and a broken fence. One lone street lamp made dark shadows against a brick wall that displayed a dilapidated poster for an old play ‘Swing Your Lady’.

Cotal turned to Quack. “How did the official dinner go? Will there be lasting peace between our empires?”

Quack shrugged. “It went well enough. But how can people eat that muck? Give me good army food any day. Anyway, by the end toasts the ANZACs looked pleased with the outcome. But Cotal…”

Cotal looked down into the gander’s eyes. “What my little duckie?”

“Don’t tell anyone of our love. Mum’s the word, OK?”

Before Cotal could answer, a man lurched towards them from the alley, and pulled out a zorcher. Quack cried out, “Cotal!” and flung himself in front of her. The stranger fired towards Cotal and a black hole appeared in Quack’s chest. The stranger turned and ran.

Cotal screamed, and flung herself over the dying gander as he slumped to the pavement. “Why, why, why!” she cried to the unforgiving sky, as the cruel rain swept away her bitter tears.

Part 6

Cotal paced the office. The detective watched her from his desk. He stubbed out his cigarette, and lit another.

With a trembling, helpless voice she said, “Someone tried to kill me. If it wasn’t for my Quack…” She blew her nose and continued. “I can’t tell the ANZACs or they’ll find out about Quackie. Can't you shield me so that I won't have to answer anyone’s questions. You've got to trust me, Mr. Spade. Oh, I'm so alone and afraid. I've got nobody to help me if you won't help me. Be generous, Mr. Spade. You're brave. You're strong. You can spare me some of that courage and strength surely. Help me, Mr. Spade. I need help so badly. I've no right to ask you, I know I haven't, but I do ask you. Help me.”

The detective raised an eyebrow. “You won't need much of anybody's help. You're good. It's chiefly your eyes, I think, and that throb you get in your voice when you say things like 'Be generous, Mr. Spade.'”

Cotal blushed. “I deserve that. But the lie was in the way I said it. Not at all in what I said. It's my own fault if you can't believe me now.” She sighed and flickered her eyelashes.

The detective grinned. “Now you are dangerous. How bad a spot are you in?”
“As bad as could be.”
”Physical danger?”
”I'm not heroic. I don't think there's anything worse than death.”
”Then it's that?”
”It's that as surely as we're sitting here - unless you help me.”
”Who shot Quack? Who are your enemies?
”I don't know. Now that I am at the top I have so many. I'm afraid, I don't know.”
“I’ll find out who is trying to murder you, but I want another payment. And Cotal, don’t leave the planet”.

Part 7

Wombie stared at Killa. “But who would poison Captain Pilot? Why would anyone poison the Captain?”

Killa rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Do we have all day?”

Wombie looked thoughtful. “I suppose the pirates aren’t exactly loved. But coming at the same time as Quack’s shooting!”

“Something is going on, Wombie. And I can’t put my paw on it.”

Wombie sipped his white wine. Killa sipped his pinot.

“Is the Captain going to make it?”

Killa shook his head. “They don’t know. I heard it was an unusual poison. The Spymaster is investigating of-course”.

Wombie frowned. “A nasty business mate. And we’re just lowly grunts. We’ll never find out the details. There’ll be a cover-up if Pontius survives. And the pirates will tear themselves apart if he …passes on”.

“We live in interesting times Wombie”.

Wombie sipped his white wine. Killa sipped his pinot.

Part 8

Gerakken slammed the table.

“I want answers and I want them now”. Spittle flew from his mouth as the gathered spies cringed. “I’m gone on R&R for a few days, and look what happens! Find the Captain’s poisoner! And I want to know who tried to shoot Cotal! Her death in G.R.O.S.S. territory would have started a war with the ANZACs! She can make or break empires with her metaverse wealth. Who would want a war between us? I want answers. Go!”

The room emptied. Gerakken put his head in his hands. ‘What would Sam Spade do?’ he wondered listlessly. ‘What would Richelieu do?’ He went to light up but realised he didn't smoke. But his thoughts kept returning to Cotal and her fluttering eyelashes. Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.

He squeezed his eyes tight and groaned.

Part 9

The hospital lights were dim. Machines beeped and gurgled. The duck lay on the bed, close to death. His chest rose and fell slowly, painfully, with each tortured breath. The doctors couldn’t say whether he would come out of his coma. The doctors had left Cotal to carry on her lone bedside vigil.

Cotal cried and cried. “I’ve been such a fool Quackie! Why didn’t I say yes and run away with you! You’re the best, most loyal man, er, creature that’s come into my life. I don’t deserve you. If only I could turn back time. You put me on a pedestal and I repaid you with mistrust and coyness. Why have my womanly instincts led me to this? I shall never mistrust a man again. Let this be a lesson to all women. Stand by your duck!”

The hospital room door opened and a strange man stood there, slyly.

Cotal gasped and held her hand to her breast. “Who are you?” she gasped in a frightened whisper. “I’ll scream!”

“No need for that dearie. I have the first report from your detective, Mr Spade. He hasn’t time to meet you, so he asked me to deliver it. Here it is…”

The stranger handed Cotal a manila envelope and left the room.

Cotal threw the folder in the trash. “Oh Quackie. My loyal gander. I’ll never doubt you again. Just recover and smile for me. I want to feel your wings around me. You are the wind beneath my wings”.

Part 10

Cotal looked at the folder, and away. Tears still welled in her eyes. Quack still lay in a coma.

She looked at the folder and back at Quack.
She reached out and picked up the folder.
And put it down.
And picked it up.
And put it down.
And picked it up.

“Perhaps just a quick peek. I certainly would like to know about your family, my little duckie. I’m sure it’s a glowing report”. Cotal opened the report with a fond smile, and read.

Task: Investigate Quack the duck, otherwise known as TheQuack.

Actions taken: Quack’s room on Ship of Doom searched.

Result: Various objects found.

List: 1 deathray zorcher, reported stolen by G.R.O.S.S. police. Clothes with unidentified stains. Unmade bunk. Sheets with unidentified stains. Dirty dishes and 11 pizza boxes. 27 beer bottles, empty. 21 beer bottles, unopened. 204 credits. 12 wookie porn videos. 29 wookie porn magazines. 1 broken porn bot. 1 leather strap with studs. 2 clamps, purpose unknown. 1 bar of soap, unused. A sketch of ‘Cotal’ (nude) signed by ‘Quack’. 5 marked card decks. 1 pair of loaded dice. 11 prophylactic devices, newly washed, oiled and laid out to dry. 87 sheets of doggerel verse love poems dedicated to 37 different girls. 327 love letters from 52 girls. Music discs labelled ‘Music for seduction’. 1 photo of Quack’s mum, framed. Military uniforms, neatly pressed and folded. 1 book: a cover titled ‘Kama Sutra: Updated for the 23rd century, with seventeen new species included!’ (subtitled ‘How To Keep Chicks Interested’) but actually containing the book ‘10001 Trivia Facts For The Terminally Geeky’. Monarchist literature.

Cotal fought down a wave of nausea and tore the report to shreds. She turned and pulled the cord for Quack’s life support from the socket, and left the hospital room, darkly.

The machine went beep, beep, beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep…

Part 11

The CariElf Temple clerk looked at the application form critically, and handed it back to the man from G.R.O.S.S. "You haven't filled in parts 6, 38(b), 192(e) and 254(d) properly".

The man from G.R.O.S.S. threw his hands in the air. "All I want to know is whether KitWarrior is here- at the CariElf Temple! Can't you just tell me?"

The clerk snorted. "Arrivals at the CariElf Temple are individually logged on a card and filed in our card system. Do you have any idea how long it would take to search all of those millions of cards?"

"But surely you use a computer...?"

"A computer? We don't have a budget for a computer! I'm told the Temple is upgrading to microfiche next year. That's a great leap forward for us, let me tell you".

The man from G.R.O.S.S. shook his head and left the Temple front office despondently. Spymaster Gerakken was not going to be pleased with news of this deadend.

Part 12

Killa looked at Wombie, who looked at Gerakken. “So you were Sam Spade, the detective…amazing!”

Gerakken nodded. “I dabble in private-eye work for recreation. Keeps me feeling young. But I too was interested in young Kit’s whereabouts. My spies have searched for him for many months, with only limited success.”

Killa’s lip quivered. “Then we’ll never find him? He’s gone? Forever?”

“Oh, we think we know where he is, but we can’t get to him.”

“Huh?”

“Know that there are greater powers in the Metaverse than even I can muster. Kit disappeared after the Galactic Peace Ball. He was last seen dancing with Cotal at the Ball. But we have no positive sighting of him after the Peace Ball riot. There is a vague trail to Skowbo II and the CariElf temple. All signs point to him leading a celibate life as a CariElf priest. But we can’t confirm that…”

Wombie shook his head in amazement. “Poor Kit. Celibate! That will knock him for six! Still, if that’s what he wants, we must respect his wishes”.

Killa looked confused.

Gerakken shook his head in agreement. “We can’t know whether he is still sane…after all, we’re talking months of celibacy. That’s week upon week upon week. A very long time. Months. Many, many, many days…of celibacy. Absolute, utter celibacy. Do you know what celibacy means?”

Killa shook his head. Wombie whispered in Killa’s ear.

Killa gasped. “No…”

Gerakken nodded. “Yes. And did you know that once initiated in CariElf’s Order, priests are forced to serve the Goddess for 10 years before being released!”

“No...”.

“Yes”.

Killa screwed up his face. “Um, how many days is that?”

Part 13

Gerakken stared at the pathology lab report, and then looked up at the doctor. “The Captain was poisoned with 'duck poison'? What on earth is duck poison?”

The doctor looked disturbed, and tapped his clipboard with his pen. After 10 minutes Gerakken held up his hand and said “Now in plain English”.

The doctor sighed, nervously. “The Captain will live, but will never play football again. He is still not lucid, so hasn’t assisted us in identifying the poison vector. The poison was DNA based. It causes humans to suffer as if they had a bout of extremely acute food poisoning. But it is absolutely lethal to ducks. Amazing science really. As I said, we still don’t know the source of the poison. The timing suggests the night of the official dinner with the ANZAC emperor. But noone-else was poisoned, so we can discount the ANZACs attempting to poison the Captain.”

Gerakken looked into the distance. “The night of the official dinner. Everyone had the same food and drink. Well that lets the ANZACs off the hook. Something comes to mind, but I can’t quite grasp it. Something the Captain once told me. Oh well, keep me informed”.

Gerakken left the hospital thoughtfully, but no wiser.

Part 14

They began the torture that night.

Evil Steve did the actual pain inducing. BlueSteel sat by, inwardly admiring Evil’s skill.

Evil pulled the knob and turned the crank.

Kit screamed again. He sobbed, “They’ll come looking and they’ll find me! Pirates look out for their mates! You hurt one pirate, you hurt us all!”

Evil snorted. “Uh ha”

Wombie and all my brothers and cousins and stepsiblings and ah, uncles, will come. Maybe not Killa, but certainly mum will.”

Another pull and a turn. Another scream. BlueSteel looked away: he didn’t quite have the stomach for this. “Evil, ask him again”.

Evil glanced at the emperor and back at Kit. “Kit, Kit, Kit. It will all stop, if you answer truthfully. Was your romance with Cotal a G.R.O.S.S. plot to steal her away from us?”

Kit shook his head and sobbed. “We loved each other, we were going to marry.”

Evil snorted. “Cotal was just about to elope with your friend Quack.”

“She must have been on the rebound”.

“Perhaps. But the ANZACs can’t allow Cotal to leave the empire. We let her have her fun, but only to a limit. Liaisons with pirates breach that limit. Oh yes. We removed you from the scene after your fling with Cotal. We planted some clues to mislead G.R.O.S.S. into concluding you'd become a priest at the CariElf Temple. And now we've taken care of Quack. Our poisoned bottle of Grange Hermitage should have killed the duck at the official dinner, but we still can’t work out what happened there. We didn't drink our toast, but everyone-else, including the duck, drunk their glass. Yet only Captain Pilot got sick. Nonetheless, a zorcher is just as efficient. They still think Cotal was the assassin’s target! From now on, should Cotal even glance at someone-else, they’ll be joining you here. Oh yes”.

Evil Steve and BlueSteel laughed and laughed and laughed.

Kit shed a single tear, which rolled slowly down his cheek. How he wished he had never deserted his mates. Torture he could handle, but how he hated celibacy.

Epilogue 1

The CariElf Temple clerks gathered around for the official ceremony.

The Chief Clerk said, "And I now declare the CariElf Temple microfiche system officially open!" The clerks clapped with some excitement.

"Oh wait. What's happened?" The clerks peered at the microfiche system.
"My Goddess! It's crashed. The system's down!"
"But why?"
The programmer pursed her lips. "I would say an incompatibility with the old card system. But that's only a guess... This may take months. Many, many months. Best you renew my contract and I'll get onto it right away...".

Epilogue 2

“Cheer up Quack” said the Captain, smiling. “I’m told you’ll be as right as rain in about a year. And as a special treat I’ve brought you a drop of Grange Hermitage. I know you’re a beer drinker, but this is as rare as duck’s teeth. Hahaha. Just between you and me it’s left over from a very special occasion and I won’t tell you how I still have half a bottle. Let’s just say I have my ways… You’ll go to Heaven when you taste it. Enjoy.”

#408 by Veteran Obi Wan Kenobi - 10/28/2003 7:15:47 PM

Ah...

Weary of politics, the former Jedi aimlessly cruises the threads of the Metaverse. His Jedi Starfighter finds its way to the blessed sun of Skowbo. Seeing a familiar ship in orbit, he opens the communications channel to say hello...

And hears a PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION - with NUMBERS, no less - of a goddess! The SACRILEGE! To quantify the immutable perfection of the Powers Beyond with a height and weight estimate?!? What's next - eye color? Fashion tips? NAIL POLISH COLORS!?!!??

Deep within his mind, years of training snap like a twig trying to hold up an airborne Volkswagen. The Dark Side rages within him. THIS INFIDEL WILL PAY FOR HIS DESECRATIONS. With determination, he removes his flight helmet and puts on the other one - the shiny black one with the breath mask.

A voice sounds, quietly but firmly, within the recesses of his mind. "This is not the way, Obi-Wan. I bring enlightenment and happiness. Destruction carried out in my name brings me no joy, regardless of its motives. Besides, Mayito carries much chocolate and Mountain Dew on his ship."

Grimly, Darth Kenobi shakes his head and slams the throttles to full. "Sorry, toots. I've been playing the nice guy for months now. It's time to flip the coin over. It's time for some payback."

The Starfighter shudders to a halt, its engines still screaming madly. "I said, CHOCOLATE and MOUNTAIN DEW!"

The Sith meekly pulls back on the throttle levers. "Well...OK...but can I shoot him later for defiling your temple with such horrid blasphemies?"

A pause. "Let's see how good his poetry is first."

#598 by Veteran Killa Koala - 1/18/2004 4:45:39 PM

Warning: Following is a novel. If you get distracted easily don't even attempt to read it.

Backplot: Many of the Special Forces were once GROSS pirates. KitWarrior was a pirate mate who disappeared one day. It became apparent that the ANZACs had abducted him for reasons we won't go into, and took him to the sacred world of Skowbo II to dispose of him 'humanely'. Finally, Wombie decided to form a mission to hunt for Kit.

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story actually exist, so all names and character traits are coincidental and/or fictitious. This story contains smutty language and crass innuendo, and is boring in parts due to my attempts at being literary. Whilst this story is inspired by MM77's The CariElf Fan Club, all spelling mistakes and lapses in logic are Stardock's fault.

The Search for a Once and Future Warrior

The Special Forces Starship: A stylish bathroom

The bathtub steam wafted around the koala’s marble and gilt bathroom. The hot bath water was gently disturbed by the distant throb of the starship’s warp engines.

Gracefully, a sleek koala rose from the water and languorously reached for a jeweled bottle of essential oil, to tip a few drops into the bath. The scent of primrose filled the small, stylish room. With a primeval grin: a facial expression that yet contained a vestige of wild untamed animal, the koala grasped a yellow rubber ducky and gave two savage squeezes. The ducky went: ‘Quack. Quack.’

“Quack, quack, indeed, my little ducky”, murmured the koala sibilantly. “Shall we have a swim? Even with your broken wings?”

The koala tipped the ducky into the bath and thrust it roughly through the water by the neck. “You can’t get out? Did you say you’re drowning?” The koala chuckled: an unsettling chuckle that began in the throat and stayed there. Water slopped onto the terrazzo floor. Beady, red eyes were reflected in the slapping water. The pretend struggle was savage but very brief.

The sad yellow rubber ducky floated to the surface: its head twisted at an unlikely angle.

A brief pause before the koala slapped the water in an agitated fit of rage. After several minutes of slapping, the koala glared at the door and screamed, “This one’s dead. They always die. I want a new one! I want it now!”

A minute passed before there was the sound of a key in the door. A friendly koala head appeared in the opening: an affable expression on his calmly intelligent face. “Killetta dear. You just smother them with too much love. Instead of a rubber ducky, why not play with a rubber penguin or a rubber shark?”

Somewhat unexpectedly, a marble toilet brush crashed onto the friendly koala’s head: he fell to the floor, stunned. Killetta sobbed, but with that hideous strength, pushed the unconscious koala into the bathroom, closed the door and locked it. Killetta stared about the bedroom cabin, then turned towards the door that led to the ship’s corridor. She was free again, at last, and she had to scream.

The Special Forces Starship: The mess, a second later

“Good Heavens! Was that a scream?” queried black smoke from the bar, anxiously.

Ginata flapped her hand dismissively. “I didn’t hear it. Now let me think”.

Hurley looked at his watch and drummed his fingers on his chair arm.

“I’ve got it! ‘Zo’: a Himalayan yak. That gives me thirty-one points, and on a double word bonus: sixty-two points, and I’m out”. Ginata smiled at Hurls and Jaws as she placed her letters on the board. Jaws threw his remaining tiles down, surged to his two feet and stormed to the ship’s hot chocolate urn.

Hurls raised his eyebrow. “That makes two hundred and twenty-one wins for you, one hundred and ninety for me, and six for Jaws. Shall we call it a day?”

Ginata was nodding agreement when the mess door whooshed open and Wombie stepped into the room. He eyed the room with a sigh. The Special Forces were slouched around the ship’s mess in various degrees of listlessness.

Wombie clapped his paws enthusiastically. “Listen up guys. We’re just a few hours from Skowbo II. Now here’s the plan: eight of us will split into groups of two in order to search the Capital city efficiently. This is a tough mission! Still, I’m certain we’ll all have lots of fun and I really feel pumped about our quest”.

Piers looked thoughtful. “What is the Capital of Skowbo?”

“Stardock”.

“And the mission is?” asked Jaws, sipping his hot chocolate (also) thoughtfully.

Wombie winked: “This mission is codenamed ‘Kittenhunt’”.

The Special Forces Starship: The bridge, the next day

Killa wrung his paws. “So that’s the story everyone. My twin sister Killetta has escaped… and she hasn’t been taking her medication!” He whimpered again.

Wombie nodded thoughtfully. “So Killa… she dressed as you to fool us, and is now on Skowbo participating in the Special Forces mission”.

Killa nodded nervously: “She always did like cross-dressing. And as you know, male and female koalas can’t be told apart”.

“That’s true” said Piers, “you all look the same to me”.

Mr Furious was increasingly perplexed. “So was that you or Killetta on last year’s mission to Coruscant?”

Killa blushed. “It was Killetta pretending to be me pretending to be Killetta. Wombie and I thought that mission might help her psychologically. Why do you think she was such a stunner in drag? Because it wasn’t drag! I heard she was fighting them off: I certainly couldn’t have got away with that red dress ensemble… Unfortunately, that mission did lead to a certain obsession she now has…”

“So when else has she doubled for you?” gasped Nand 1.

“I let her out for the musicals…especially Oklahoma and The Pirates of GROSS. I actually hate musicals! Cats killed it for me. And when you saw me in a temper…that was Killetta dressed as me. Other than that, she was only allowed to access the internet…”

Monkson and Raj and Weasel all looked up: “What name did she use on the internet?” they asked in unison.

Killa shrugged. “She changed her handle so often, I couldn’t keep up!”

“The love of Pinot?” queried Goblin.

“That’s me. Killetta drinks Chianti”.

“So why is she locked away?”

“Guys, she is…unbalanced. Wombie has known about my twin sister for a while, but I felt I should keep it a secret from everyone-else, until now. Dr Quinn can explain”.

Dr Quinn lurched to her feet, cackling. “Hee hee hee. Unbalanced? Yes, you could say that. She is, after all, the love child of Pontius and me. If you look at this diagram…here…see the missing chromosome? This means that she is completely insane: criminally insane. There is nothing she is incapable of doing”.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing”.

“And who is she teamed with?” asked Piers, pale, as he turned to Wombie.

Wombie studied his diggingclaws, silently.

Skowbo II, Stardock City: A street, about the same time

The koala flung his arm out, twisted his wrist as he had seen Mrs Pilot do many-a-time, and gestured at the ancient city of Stardock. “There she is. Like a tarted up doxy. She’s one hell of a mistress if ya treat her right, but a sour crony if ya don’t respect her…”

“I can tame ‘er” grunted Harel, with absolute certainty. The koala glanced at Harel with a grin. The young man was…well…in his early twenties. And he was never uncertain.

“Harel mate, Stardock is more than she seems at first glance, or even first whiff. She’s a lover, she’s a wife, she’s a friend, she’s a whore. Never underestimate her, coz she’ll eat you and then spit you out. I lived here many ages ago with... Anyway, Stardock shapes you somehow”.
“How?”
“I’m not sure. She gets in your soul, somehow. I’m not sure”.
“You’re never sure Killa. That’s your problem”.
“Maybe. You’ll find out perhaps”.

They trudged into the ancient city. Past the plazas and cemeteries and markets. Over groaning bridges with fetid rivers oozing past as if exhausted at the effort of flowing through the endless suburbs. Stardock was big: it was bloated. It had been built on a swamp on a swampy world and the rich moist air carried the scents of decay and death all too well. It took most of a day to walk from the distant spaceport to the hotel where the koala intended to stay. At the sign of the Swinging Cadaver the koala stopped and turned to Harel. He pointed a thumb at the hotel that stood on the narrow street: its old rock walls covered in moss and lichen.

“Let me do the talking Harel. And a word of warning. Everything costs in Stardock- there’s nothing for free in this metropolis. Don’t so much as sneeze or accept anything without asking the cost first”.

They entered the hotel and glanced around. A clerk moved towards them rubbing his hands. “Gentlemen. Welcome. Rooms?” The clerk sized them up astutely: “Perhaps our cheaper rooms?”

The koala snorted. “We need a quiet two bedroom suite. With two beds and appropriate sheets, blankets and pillows. Absolute privacy including a door that locks, keys to lock the door, a bathroom with available unlimited running hot and cold water, useable towels and a toilet with a flush. How much?”

The clerk pursed his lips with an air of disdain. “We do have a special this week. A suite much as you’ve described and including a bath and a complimentary foot massage with moisturising cream”.

Killa raised his eyebrow. “Harel, always be suspicious of specials. I guess that the moisturizing cream will no doubt cause major staining of the carpet leading to significant cleaning costs that we will be liable for. Alternatively it will cause an itchy rash and the cure will cost double the price of the room”.

Harel was impressed at this duplicity. The clerk glared at the koala but said nothing.

Killa curled his lip. “We will take the suite without the complimentary foot massage, for three nights. We want no specials or other complimentary offers. No fruit, flowers, shampoos, soaps, essences or unguents.”

The clerk showed them the room: the suite was basic but clean.

“Oh look” muttered the koala. “Wire coat hangers…”

Skowbo II, Stardock City: The Swinging Cadaver, after lunch

Lunch was wholesome if unexciting. After the coffees, Killa signaled to the clerk. “Where can we find the Friary of the Fractious Frog?”

The clerk wrinkled his brow speculatively. Do you want the exact location or…”
“Whatever information is free”.
“My time is valuable. I can provide the location on a map for a mere six credits”.
“Five credits and you’ve got a deal”.

The clerk quickly found a map and penned the location of the Friary on the map. As he handed the map to Harel he asked curiously, “May I ask why you wish to go there? Why are you on Skowbo?”

Harel quietly sneered. “A basic answer will cost three credits, an intriguing answer six credits, and I can absolutely gob-smack you for twenty credits”.

The clerk fluttered his fingers with dismay. “Only an answer that will cost nothing. I have a family to feed and I’m not that interested”.

“Then wonder all you like…Good day”. Harel and Killa left the hotel and made their way onto the street.

An hour later the boys entered The Grand Avenue of Religious Conviction: a crooked, crowded street that threaded its way through the east side of Stardock. The Friary was on The Grand Avenue amongst the Temples of the Superior Pantheon, past Bistro Street and close to a major intersection with Programmers Lane. Stardock was a righteous city and every denomination had a presence on The Grand Avenue. Mad prophets, friars, celibate madmen, leaping nymphs and screaming long-haired clerics, preachers and Holy men of all descriptions, chanted, prayed, wept, gnashed their teeth, exhorted, praised, screeched, pulled their hair, and otherwise capered on soapboxes and daises along the street. Nonetheless, an informal but strict code of precedence was maintained on the street. The least known or unpopular preachers were gathered on the lower street. As preachers gathered followers, or wealth and recognition (for their particular God or Goddess or pantheon) they moved, metre by metre, up the street, towards the High street and the vast and well-funded Temples of the Superior Pantheon. Sadly, the reverse was also true. Through the centuries, spent or forgotten faiths moved, grudgingly, from the Superior Pantheon, metre by metre back to the lower street, and thence, as the last follower renounced their faith or died, left the city never to be seen again.

Harel gazed with unconcealed interest at the sights of The Grand Avenue. For a few minutes Harel and the koala gawked at a capering but fascinatingly charismatic cleric. About him was a large gathering and his vitriolic diatribe concerned the immorality of modern youth, the wholesomeness of celibacy, the goodness of kittens and the evils of competition. Here was obviously a cleric on his way towards the Superior Pantheon. They left him as he began whipping his back with a three-pronged lash.

Skowbo II, Stardock City: A Friary, the afternoon

Once inside the Friary of the Fractious Frog, the Special Forces operatives were welcomed by a Friary clerk. Harel quickly handed a photo-crystal to the friar who studied the photo image with pursed lips.

Harel waited a moment before he asked: “Have you seen that man? He used to go by the name of KitWarrior…don’t laugh…he was tough and he was mean. We know- he looks fragile and confused, but he was once a blood-thirsty desperado: a boozy killer. We believe he was abducted and sold to one of the many temples here in Stardock- against his will! We want him returned to us”.

The friar controlled his mirth and handed the photo-crystal back. “We have many, many acolytes here who are held against their will. There is no easy escape from the Friary of the Fractious Frog! Yet, did we hold the young man we would gladly have sold him back to you: his mates. Alas, we do not”.

“But have you seen him?”

“Oh yes, I know this person…the ANZACs tried to sell him to us, but they asked too much. I seem to recall they spoke about next trying to sell him to the Holy Order of the Blessed Software”.

The koala rubbed his chin with a sweaty paw. “Thank you for this information. Um, before I go friar, may I ask- what is the Friary’s holy mission in Stardock?”

The friar eyed the koala with an evangelical light in his calculating eyes. “Why, my son, we serve His Gloriousness the High and Mighty Frogboy”. The friar clutched his beads and recited with reverence: “Frogboy debase us. Frogboy direct us. Frogboy admonish us. In your shadow we are insignificant. In your anger we are awed”.

“And do members of your Order, ah, um…”

“We are celibate. Once a man is accepted as an acolyte he must serve His Gloriousness, and of course the Order, for the rest of his life. Alas, so many acolytes eventually go insane that we must constantly seek new recruits to spread our knowledge of the love of His Gloriousness for lesser beings”.

The koala took a step back and pointed a zorcher at Harel. “I have heard enough and I am well pleased. My dearest friend Harel has been yearning to find a beacon to guide his faltering steps. He has all the usual sins and even some out-of-the-ordinary ones. He needs to be saved from himself”.

Harel gasped and looked at the koala in shock. “Killa? Mate? But I thought…”

The friar quickly motioned to some Friary bouncers (they had once been Sumo wrestlers- but that is another story) who grasped Harel and frog-marched him into the depths of the Friary. The friar counted out some silver pieces and handed them to the koala: “Here my son. Your generosity will be rewarded, both in this life and in cyberspace”.

The koala smirked. “I’m sure”. He turned and left, whistling dixie.

Skowbo II, Stardock City: The Holy Order of the Blessed Software, late afternoon

Ginata and Jaws were ushered into the Temple and directed to a large room that contained a garish sign: ‘Holy Order of the Blessed Software Tourism Centre’. A dozen acolytes were providing information to people from across the galaxy who had come to offer their prayers to the usually kind Goddess: Our Holy CariElf Lady of the Blessed Software.

Ginata approached a counter to speak to a tall, young woman dressed in a flowing white gown. The acolyte’s personal music* warbled and pulsed with a feckless melody underlaid by a rasping obligato.

[*Important Note: Every acolyte of the Holy Order was required to surround themselves with music: to project their mood, or to present an ideal version of their personality, or the better to praise the Goddess, who loved music. The ‘personal music’ was produced by an ingenious mechanism called a musicpod (or ‘pod’ for short), programmed by musicologists. Similarly, tourists to the Holy Order were also required to surround themselves with music. But woe to the inexperienced tourist who played inappropriate music or music that offended the Lady of the Blessed Software: for them there was the most extreme punishment and torment. But hey, being a tourist is never easy.]

“Most holy Sister” said Ginata, “we are looking for someone important to us…”

The acolyte brusquely held up her hand. “All such enquiries must be made in writing and taken to the Holy Order of the Blessed Software Enquiry Office which is some distance away. But before you may move around the Temple grounds, you must wear your musicpod”.

The acolyte fixed the musicpod to their shoulders. “This is the selector, which affords you a carefully planned assortment of main themes, including Stately Mien, Joviality, Pensive Dreams, Skylark Song, Receptiveness to Novel ideas, Proud Assertion, Quirky and Original Whimsy, Quest for Love, Verve and Vivacity, Condolences, The Glory of Beauty, and others. These minor toggles can be adjusted for ‘Morning’, ‘Afternoon’, ‘Evening’ and ‘Night’; and this for ‘Solitude’, ‘Boon Companions’, ‘Erotic Proximities’, ‘Crowds’ and so on. If you are interested in theoretical musicology, you may read this pamphlet”.

Ginata and Jaws adjusted their pods to the main theme of ‘Focused Search’ and headed towards the Enquiry Office. Before they had walked more than a few paces, a koala came running up to them, panting. “Guys, I’ve found you! Wait for me!” The koala’s pod was playing ‘Urgent attention’, combined with ‘Afternoon’ and ‘Boon Companions’.

Ginata and Jaws greeted the koala. With a furrowed brow Jaws asked, “Killa, why aren’t you investigating with Harel? Or have you found KitWarrior already?”

The koala shook his head, forlornly. “It’s a bit of a disaster. Harel and I had a tiff and he stormed off. I think he went to the spaceport in order to return to the ship! I thought I’d better join up with you guys rather than look on my own. You know how lonely I get…”

Ginata ruffled the koala’s head: “You do need a lot of attention and positive feedback Killa”. She laughed: “But that’s why you’re so loveable. Would you like some chocolate?”
The koala nodded pathetically: his red eyes gleaming.

The three operatives moved through the crowded corridors of the Temple. Earnest acolytes of the Goddess moved purposefully about, trumpeting a discord of music. After a short while the koala turned to Ginata: “Ginata, I’ve been wondering…”

“Yes?”

“When we find Kit…you two have a history don’t you?”

Ginata blushed and rounded on the small koala. “Don’t ever discuss that! It’s in the past and that’s where it will stay!” She turned her pod from ‘Quirky and Original Whimsy’ to ‘Distressed Melancholy’ and flounced ahead: her music pulsed uncomfortably with a nervous arpeggio. Killa turned to Jaws with half-lidded eyes: “Well what an odd reaction! By the way Jaws, it’s good to see you walking on two legs…”

Jaws glared at the koala. “I thought I told everyone never to say that” he snapped. He turned his personal music to ‘Resentful Animosity’ and ‘Solitude’ (a sharp staccato), and followed Ginata with a grimace. The koala slyly smirked, switched his pod to play a chirpy tune, ‘Capricious and Satisfying Nastiness’, and followed the easily stirred operatives.

Many hours later the trio were slumped on a seat. The Enquiry Office clerk had finally advised them that given the Holy Order’s somewhat high standards, KitWarrior had been rejected for entry to the Holy Order. KitWarrior’s captors had been advised to take him to The Order of the Holy Lady of the Troublesome Hardware: an Order which had lax standards and was generally desperate for any devotees, willing or unwilling. The trio’s music played a lonely lament: ‘Frustrated Desires’.

“I recall that The Order of the Holy Lady of the Troublesome Hardware was on Cypher and Samarai Sam’s list of Temples to investigate”, muttered Ginata.

The koala looked up shyly. “You’re right Ginata, so that means we have time to take a peek at the Goddess CariElf! She’s available every evening for an hour of adulation in the altar vestibule”.

“How would you know that Killa?” asked Jaws, frowning.

“Oh, ah, I read it in the Enquiry Office. Come on, let’s do a quick adulation, donate some chocolate, and then meet up with Cypher and Samarai”.

“And then we can go shopping!” squealed Ginata excitedly.

The koala’s eyes lit up: “I love shopping too”.

Within minutes the trio was at the entrance to the vestibule, which held a score of ecstatic, swaying, chanting acolytes. Their chant: “CariElf guide us. CariElf teach us. CariElf protect us. In your light we thrive. In your wisdom we are humbled” swelled and throbbed in the thickly incensed air.

The koala quickly reached up to the pods of Ginata and Jaws and twiddled the dials. “Guys, we should all play adulation music before entering into the presence of the Goddess. But, damn! My pod has stopped playing- you go in and I’ll follow when I’ve got my pod playing”.

Ginata and Jaws slid into the vestibule and quickly moved to the front of the swaying crowd. Suddenly, a golden light swept the altar and to the swelling throb of ‘Unbridled and Refulgent Grandness’, the Goddess glided before the congregation. The vestibule music stilled and the acolytes ceased their chanting, caught in the grip of a euphoric rapture.

In the suddenly subdued room, a tipsy, sleazy tune could be heard. Ginata and Jaws’ pods were both playing a sexy libretto: ‘Dare I Hope for Undignified Carnality With You’, with ‘Anytime’ and ‘Erotic Proximities’ added. The Goddess dropped her arms and stared at the operatives, icily.

Several acolytes swooned, some squealed, others writhed in horror. Fists were raised and a new chant began: a chant that sang of blood and retribution. The pods of the acolytes began playing a harsh squeal like scratching a blackboard: ‘Abhorrence and Detestation Leading to Ultimate Violence’, ‘Immediately’ and ‘Mob Action’.

The koala calmly closed the vestibule door and walked away, contentedly. The sounds of the riot and lynching were soon left behind. The koala deftly turned his pod to the major theme ‘I’m Just a Poor Misunderstood Bear’ and clicked his fingers to the jaunty beat.

Skowbo II, Stardock City: The Holy Order of the Troublesome Hardware, the next morning

Cypher and Samarai Sam were admitted to the office of Her Holiness KarmaGirl. She took a cigarette out of her mouth and stubbed it in the ashtray. Then grasped her gin bottle and took a quick, but precise swig. Her mascara was blotchy and her roots were showing. She didn’t wear any other make-up. Samarai thought he had never seen a more natural beauty in all his life.

KarmaGirl eyed the stammering Samarai Master for a short while, before glancing at the Bundy Bear and raising her eyebrow. Cypher shrugged. KarmaGirl looked at the report given to her by a lackey. “Says here that you guys want a dude called KitWarrior. Tall, dark, evil, fragile, a pirate. Is this for real?”

Cypher steepled his paws and half closed his eyes. “Kit was all that and more. That is a description of his outward appearance. But it does not do justice to his tender soul, his prodigious capacity to love and be loved, his wry sense of humour, his sharp and hidden intelligence. He was the sum of all men…and we want him back”.

KarmaGirl tittered. “Well I won’t deny he was here for a very long time. But at the lackey level we have a strict policy of…”

“Celibacy?” murmured Cypher.

“Why yes, how did you guess? Anyways, he went a bit loopy as the young ones often do, and we had to let him go. Shame really. After lackeys are promoted, they’re cleansed and rubbed with oils and fed sweet meats and then brought to my … Anyways, that’s a holy secret. Let’s just say there is a little reward for years of devotion at my temple”.

Samarai quivered ever so slightly.

KarmaGirl continued: “Had he been a computer professional we would have kept him of course. My Temple has the Skowbo II hardware contract and we can’t get enough coders and mathematicians. Um, what are your skills by the way?”

Samarai gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m a historian and literary scholar. Cypher is into marketing and advertising”.

KarmaGirl rolled her eyes.

“So where did he go after he was sacked, I mean let go from your Temple?” asked Cypher.

KarmaGirl shrugged. “Onto the street. He was raving by the end. Those sort usually end in the river, one way or another”.

The office door opened and a lackey squirmed into the room, and handed the Goddess a note. KarmaGirl read the note with pursed lips and then scrunched the note and threw it into the bin. With twinkling eyes she rose and gestured to the operatives. “I do have something to show you though: which you will find of interest”. She fluttered her eyelashes at Samarai. Samarai patted his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief.

The Goddess led them through a maze of rooms and corridors into the depths of the Temple. She turned to the operatives and said quietly, “Now you must understand that Skowbo doesn’t have a lot of money. Why, only last year we introduced a microfiche system to replace our card system in all public offices. Unfortunately…” (her hand formed a fist) “…it was botched and cost a fortune in contractors’ fees. But then, I had an idea for a new cheap computer. A computer that can be disciplined and punished…” She laughed: a contralto cackle that began in her throat and ended in her nose. Cypher and Samarai looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Here it is”. The Goddess opened a door. The operatives walked through onto a balcony overlooking a vast subterranean hall. In the hall were endless lines of desks and seats. Sitting at the desks were pale men and women chained to their chairs, scribbling equations and calculations on paper, or tapping at abacuses.

Cypher turned to KarmaGirl with a look of horror. She cackled again: “There you see functions and multipliers and calculators and higher mathematicians. They all have a part to play in the workings of the Great Machine. And the two of you will also be souls in the Great Machine. Work well and you will be rewarded. But fail me, and feel the whip”.

Guards appeared and lowered their plasma zorchers at the operatives: they were quickly chained and led away. Cypher looked back and yelled, “How did you find out we were computer professionals? How? Was it that note you were given during our meeting?”

KarmaGirl laughed again for she was a very happy Goddess. “Let’s just say that a little furry friend whispered in my ear. And after all, we girls stick together. At least, when it suits us”.

The Goddess was the last female face the operatives saw for a very long time. For promotions were slow, very slow, in the service of Stardock’s Great Machine.

Skowbo II, Stardock City: The Grand Avenue

When Killa met Quack and Hurley, they were strolling along The Grand Avenue of Religious Conviction.

Killa sighed with relief. “I thought I’d never find you! Stardock is so big”.

Hurley greeted the koala with a smile. “I’ve never been to Skowbo before. Stardock is fascinating, in an annoying sort of way. We’ve just been harangued by some mad man about kittens, cutlasses, double-crosses and evil, red-eyed koalas. He thinks he’s a prophet or something”. Quack and Hurley chuckled: the koala joined in.

“Where was this mad man?” asked the koala with slight interest.

“Quite near the Superior Pantheon actually. Had quite a crowd about him…”

The koala nodded. “He’s a mover: he’ll have his own Temple this time next year”.

Hurley shook his head in wonder. “Ah! Well, we’ve had no luck in our search. KitWarrior has disappeared without a trace. Shame really. The Special Forces would have suited his gentle quirkiness”.

The koala looked into the distance. “I’ve spoken to the others: they’ve returned to the spaceport. I sent Harel on too”. He turned and looked up at Hurley and Quack. “So now we can quickly check out the greatest wine shop in the galaxy Hurls. I swear Hurls, the rarest and best wines in the galaxy for next to nothing! And free delivery anywhere in the sector! But first I need to show Quack something. Here’s the address Hurls”. The koala handed Hurley a piece of paper. “I’ll see you there shortly”.

The koala rubbed his paws together. “Now Quack, I have something to show you that will take your breath away, literally”.

Quack clapped his wings together. “Oh I love surprises! Is it a delicious beer? Or maybe an aviary? Or perhaps a quaint duck pond…”

Hurley watched Killa and Quack walk through the crowded street until they disappeared from view. There was something very odd about the chance meeting with Killa. But Hurley couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong. Was it the high heels? Hurley searched his memory: but he just couldn’t remember if Killa usually wore red high heels. And didn’t Killa have green eyes rather than red eyes? Hurley threw his hands in the air in frustration. It was all too difficult: he had a wine shop to check out. Hurley studied the address of the wine shop and the handwritten map given to him by Killa. With determination, Hurley headed towards Backstabbers Lane at the intersection of Murderers Alley.

Skowbo II, Stardock City: Somewhere, sometime later, cornered

Quack turned at the open window: there was no escape. The sound of a busy street came from below. The duck visibly shuddered with a range of emotions that even he could not well define.

“Quacky. You know that I can give you something you’ve never had before”.

Quack blanched. His nose started to run in terror… or anticipation: it is difficult to read emotions on a duck’s face.

The koala said, “That’s right…requited love. And I have so much love to give”.

“This can’t be happening to me…”

“Yes, yes, my Quacky. It is unbelievable. Yet this is a moment we’ll always look back on and savour. Our first true liaison. And then, together. Forever”.

“But, but, but, but…”

“I know my dear heart. My head is as big as a planet: my intellect drowns you. But I know we can work it out, I shan’t kill you softly with my song”.

“But Killa…”

“Fear not Quacky. Koalas and ducks can get it on….don’t swoon dearest. We have all the time in the world, and then some. And I’m Killetta, dear. I even have your favourite red dress on”.

The koala stepped out of her trousers and unbuttoned her shirt. A short red dress and golden velour top were revealed.

Quack held his wing to his beak with his eyes as big as saucers: “Oh my heavens, no. No! Killa? Killetta? Killa? Killetta? Killa? Killetta? Killa? Killetta? This is a dream!”

“Oh, it’s no dream Quacky…”

With a shrill squeak, Quack staggered back and crashed through the window. He plummeted three floors to the street far below.

Killetta rushed to the window, screaming “Quacky, Quacky! Nooooooooooooo!”

Quack’s broken body lay on the street for a long minute, and then, miraculously, he agonizingly levered himself up onto one broken wing. His little beak quivered. He began to inch his way across the road. And then a truck stacked with beer kegs ran over him. His tiny body twitched and was still.

“Quacky?” sobbed Killetta at the broken window, as she looked down forlornly. After a minute she sighed and turned away. After all, life moves on. And there were plenty of men out there, and she had made so many friends on the internet. So many, many friends. She shuddered with anticipation. She shook her head one last time: “And we all knew that beer would kill the duck eventually”.

Epitaph for a duck

Wombie and Killa peered through the one-way mirror. The padded room was stark and white and in a funny way, quite cheerful.

Killa pursed his lips. “Will he recover?”

Wombie flicked a tear from his eye. “He’ll walk one day. Perhaps even talk. But he’ll never fly and he’s lost his mind utterly. Dr Quinn says he’ll never use a keyboard again”.

“Then his crushed wings are…?”

“The amputation is tonight”.

Killa put his paw to his mouth and closed his eyes. He groaned: “Killetta has destroyed another life- and he was so young, so vibrant. So much to live for…” He punched the wall with pent up feeling.

Wombie sighed. “We’ve also lost Harel and Ginata and Jaws and Cypher and Samarai and Hurley”.

Killa wearily nodded. “But they had lived full lives…Quack was the innocent of the team”.

They studied Quack for a few more minutes, before leaving. They hurried down the corridor: the Anger Management Focus Group began in a few minutes and Wombie felt that it was important for the least irascible members of the Special Forces (and hence the least in need of guidance) to also make an appearance.

As they walked, Killa nudged Wombie and said, “But life goes on Wombie. My wine appreciation and piano recital evening is still going ahead…Quack would have wanted it so. What are you doing over the weekend?”

Wombie perked up and his eyes were glowing as he turned to the koala. “You’ll never guess. I’ve got a blind date! I’ve been chatting to this stunning femme fatale on the internet and she wants to see me in the flesh. I’ve arranged to go to her place for a chianti…”

#426 by Veteran Gerakken - 11/1/2003 4:44:33 PM

The Knights of Skowbo

Skowbo, the holy planet. If there was ever hallowed ground in the wild chaos of the Metaverse, it would be here. Pilgrims filter in year round to visit the sacred sites: the grand temple of CariElf, the shrines of KarmaGirl, Frogboy, T-man, and many other divinities. Most pilgrims leave, going back to whatever life they have until it is time for another pilgrimage. Then there are those who stay.

A great many of those who stay become residents of communities serving the pilgrims. They become like any citizen back on the planets of their birth: teachers, factory workers, office workers, market place vendors, a host of others. Life goes on as normal, except for being mindful of the special significance of their adopted planet and honoring the many festival days set aside for the objects of their affection.

Some citizens have special jobs. They are the facilitators, keeping the life blood of the pilgrim-based economy running smoothly: travel agents, tour ship crews, resort operators, guides, and the staff of the incredibly powerful WCARIELF radio station sending out calls to the faithful across the Metaverse, and many others. Without them, the pilgrims would not cycle smoothly through the system. There would be delays and difficulties.

But all these citizens ultimately serve to sustain the center of the whole operation: the holy sites and those who live there after having dedicated their lives to the divine powers. Monks and nuns live in and maintain the holy sites. It is a humble existance of hard work and prayer, trying to guide visitors to a better understanding of the Stardockian powers in the hopes they will leave as changed people leading a better life and spreading the faith to others. There are also reclusive orders of religious hermits that do not interact with outsiders, being totally dedicated to a journey of self-enlightenment.

It may well have been be a perfect system for a perfect place, yet the foul plots of Metaverse empires ripple across the holy planet. Secret agents and hidden agendas, mercenary bands and criminal schemes. Unwary pilgrims temporarily putting aside secular loyalties to feed their spiritual needs, but being swept into all manner of illicit dealings. The holy planet is a hotbed of unseen corruption and grand power plays that most are totally oblivious to. The fate of the Meta hinges on no one empire, but on Skowbo. The one who controls the planet controls the Meta.

A secret order, the Knights of Skowbo, have vowed to prevent any from taking control of the holy planet. They are warriors of both skill and faith. Based in an underground lair below a secluded monastary on the nearby moon Lowbo, the Knights are ever in constant battle to root out and foil these plots. Their missions take them far and wide. The fruit of corruption may hope to ripen on Skowbo, but the seeds are often planted far away. Not all Knights are openly militant crusaders. Some are agents disguised as merchants, wandering missionaries, high ranking imperial senators, and even operatives parading as unaligned overlords. When the call comes, the Knights of Skowbo will be there.

_______________________________________________________

And there you have it! The origin of, THE SENTINALS OF SKOWBO! tm.

_______________________________________________________

[Message Edited]

#6 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 5:46:59 PM

#7 by Citizen Exar Kuun - 6/19/2004 5:47:17 PM

Wahey! The MM77 is back! Someone nail him down quick so he can't get away from us again.

Whats Hall of Heroes MM77?

#8 by Veteran Icho Tolot - 6/19/2004 6:01:16 PM

CITY OF HEROS
It would be nice to see some of my friends online there

COOL, but how am i supposed to get a version over here in germany

#9 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 6:02:40 PM

Freedom;( SERVER )

You can find me as MASTER MOORE /ANGELA MOORE / AJA MOORE .

HOPE TO SEE YOU!

#10 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 6:11:46 PM

Icho Tolot,

I'm sorry I have hoped it was world wide by now.

no wonder I have not bumped into any of my GC FRIENDS!

#11 by Veteran Icho Tolot - 6/19/2004 6:17:06 PM

Well, only US wide, and amazon.com does not send games to euro

I've heared some rumors about that game before, well i'll dig thru the german mmorpg forums, maybe I'll find something.

I'm interested, even if they take 30 bugs a month (by the infos i found till now)

#12 by Citizen Exar Kuun - 6/19/2004 6:21:22 PM

Quick there he is! Evil steve Hammer and nails please! Right lads jump on him!

#13 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 6:25:59 PM

I made this EMPIRE THREAD out of respect to the FANCLUB THREADS. I don't like people asking for me there because the FOCUS should be on the FANCLUB NOT ME.

PLEASE ask for me here or e-mail me at

Email

Thanks

#14 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 6:31:08 PM

I'm interested, even if they take 30 bugs a month (by the infos i found till now)

U.S. DOLLAR IS 15.00 A MONTH.

AND is BUG FREE!

( for the most part )

#15 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 6:36:23 PM

And Beavvv I miss you guys alot!

I'll try to drop in once a day to keep LORD TYRANT in LINE!

WE MUST! Take him DOWN! at ALL COST!!!!

#16 by Veteran Icho Tolot - 6/19/2004 6:42:37 PM

U.S. DOLLAR IS 15.00 A MONTH.
AND is BUG FREE! ( for the most part )

Well, due the leak of a credit card, i'd have to by subscibtion cards.
I found some german online shops that sell the game, but no cards.

And i have some interesting stuff in mind...

#17 by Veteran MM77 - 6/19/2004 6:44:22 PM

COOL! I'll be waiting

[Message Edited]

#18 by Citizen LORD TYRANT - 6/19/2004 6:50:20 PM

BAHHHHHH! FOOLISH DEMIGOD!

YOU'VE BUT GLIMPS MY POWERS!

AND RATH!!!!!!

#19 by Citizen Exar Kuun - 6/19/2004 7:12:16 PM

Yuo wait Lord Evil Steve is going to be so happy! Its the sheepses I feel sorry for.

#20 by Veteran the 3rd child - 6/19/2004 7:44:17 PM

i hope you guys don't mind me saying this but, your pretty demented the lot of you

#21 by Citizen Exar Kuun - 6/19/2004 7:55:34 PM

i hope you guys don't mind me saying this but, your pretty demented the lot of you

Not at all old chap. Here is a token of our appreciation:

LORD EVIL STEVE: LORD MM77 LOAD THE SHEEP INTO THE CANNONS.

LORD MM77: SIR YES SIR! TARGETTING TGCPFKAXGE (The GalCiv Player Formerly Known As XGEvangelist)

LORD EVIL STEVE: LORD EXAR KUUN ADD THE MINT SAUCE!

LORD EXAR KUUN: MINT SAUCE LOADED SAH!

LORD EVIL STEVE: LADZ FIRE AT WILL!
[Message Edited]

#22 by Citizen Exar Kuun - 6/19/2004 7:58:45 PM

BAHHHHHH! FOOLISH DEMIGOD! YOU'VE BUT GLIMPS MY POWERS!AND RATH!!!!!!

Hmmm is this another target for the sheep and mint sauce (c) cannon?

#23 by Veteran the 3rd child - 6/19/2004 8:02:32 PM

entertaining.

#24 by Citizen Exar Kuun - 6/19/2004 8:10:20 PM

LORD MM77: SIR IT APPEARS OUT FIRST SALVO WAS INNEFFECTIVE. SHALL WE TRY ANOTHER VOLLEY?

LORD EVIL STEVE: YOU HEARD THE ORDER LADZ! FIRE AT WILL

[MM77 AND EXAR KUUN RELOAD THE CANNON]

BOOOOM!

LORD MM77: UM, I AM NOT QUITE SURE HOW TO SAY THIS SIR BUT....

LORD EVIL STEVE: WHAT IS IT?

LORD MM77: UM, I LOADED EXAR INTO THE CANNON BY MISTAKE

[LORD'S MM77 AND EVIL STEVE LOOK UP INTO THE SKY TO SEE EXAR FLYING OFF INTO THE SUNSET]

LORD EXAR KUUN: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

LORD EVIL STEVE: BUGGER

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