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Foundation Stories
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I think that we should ration Evil steve amount of sacred grass, he is waaaayyyyyyyyy pass the state of talking with the High spirits of the mountain!!! 
       
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Well, the power of the grass...
      
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#27
by Citizen Aww_Nuts - 9/18/2004 10:33:08 PM
One Day On My Way To The Forum
Roy: Hello, this is Roy, broadcasting via the Altarian Radio Network (Radio Free Altaria) from the spacious Sol Ring. Today’s main event features ships from the Galactic Guardians and The Foundation. The Galactic Guardians hold the Championship Title and are truly the Overlords of the Metaverse. The challengers from “The Foundation” are ranked number 2 but are not really considered a threat.
Roy: Here with me is De-tsaot from the Torian planet Klu-les. He will provide color commentary (namely green) for today’s contest. Say “hi” to the Universe, De-tsaot.
De-tsaot: Hi everyone, I’m just glad to be here. The producer’s took a look at my big green melon- head and said that I had the face for radio broadcasts. It kinda made me blush.
Roy: O-kay then, some history on the combatants is in order. Representing the Galactic Guardians is LittleWotts. He is trained by the experienced Weyrleader. LittleWotts style is to bludgeon the enemy into oblivion and he is quite efficient. Every time he enters the ring it is first page news. He has benefited from the many early-hours training sessions which are a hallmark of Weyrleader’s tutelage. Weyr’s credo can be summed up by his motto “The early bird gets the worm”. As a bonus for our listeners we have wired Weyr up with a microphone so we can get his comments during the bout.
De-tsaot: I like saying “oblivion”, it make my mouth feel funny.
Roy: That’s just great, De-tsaot (sarcastically). Representing the Foundation is Aww Nuts. He developed is own training regimen with the help of the Legendary Greldon’s tome “So you wanna be an Overlord”. Admittedly, his progress has been very slow but he focuses almost solely on military knock-outs. He has an adamantium chin and a wicked left flank. When questioned about Weyr’s training methods, Aww Nuts replied;
“Weyr is correct in saying that the early bird gets the worm, but is it not also true that the second mouse gets the cheese?”
De-tsaot: huh?
Roy: That’s okay De-tsaot, I’ll explain it during the break. The announcer’s drone ship has entered the Sol Ring sector so we will take you to the ring.
Announcer: LET’S GET READY TO RUMMMMMBBBBBLLLLLEEEEEE !!!
In this sector corner (11,11) weighing in 862,967 kilotons, the Universal Champion of Destruction, The Terror Star of Pain,
LITTLEWOTTS.
Roy: Man that is one big Terror Star. Rumor has it that the shell was made from toasters.
De-tsaot: hehe toasters, really
Announcer: And in this sector corner (0,0) weighing in at 585,143 kilotons, the challenger, the Excalibur from your worst Nightmares,
Aww Nuts
Roy: The challenger is outweighed by 50% so we can only hope that he goes the distance. Let’s go over the rules, a planet representing Sol has been placed within the sector at the coordinates (6,6). If Littlewott’s Terror Star destroys either the planet or Aww Nuts’ Excalibur, he wins. If Aww Nuts destroys Littlewott’s Terror Star then Aww Nuts wins.
Roy: They’re getting ready to start and the crowd is anxiously watching from the many Party Palace Starbases which surround the Sol Ring sector.
Roy: The combatants have been given the signal to begin and the battle is joined. Aww Nuts comes flying out of the corner at a very high velocity.
De-tsaot: Is the Terror Star moving?
Roy: Well, yes it is moving, just slowly, c’mon De-tsaot, it is a Terror Star after all.
Roy: Aww Nuts has cleared the planet and is moving directly towards the Terror Star.
BBBBBLLLLLLAAAAAAAMMMMMMOOOOOOO
Roy: Sweet mother of mercy, the Terror Star of Littlewotts has just exploded! I mean, it’s just gone. Let me try to describe this to you folks. Imagine trillions of toasters moving at close to light-speed in all directions. Your comments De-tsaot?
De-tsaot: I think they should have named it the Error Star instead of Terror Star.
Roy: I think you’re right.
De-tsaot: This just proves the old Torian adage, “Never Bring a Terror Star to an Excalibur fight”
Roy: You can say that again.
De-tsaot: This just prov
Roy: (cuts De-tsaot off) I didn’t mean that literally you goofy ba$tard.
Roy: This all happened so fast that I bet the Pay-Per-View customers will be wanting a refund. We weren’t able to take you to Weyrleader for his in-bout comments but we did have them recorded. Let’s play that recording
Weyr: C’mon Littlewotts, that’s it, go go go go go
(sound of Terror Star explosion)
Weyr: (mutters) Aww Nuts
(recording ends)
Roy: I don’t think Weyr was cheering for Aww Nuts so we can only believe that he meant something else with his words.
Roy: One thing’s for sure, the Galactic Guardians are going to have a difficult time rounding up all those toasters.
De-tsaot: You can say that again.
Roy: Oh, just shut up. That’s it from here folks. Thanks for your time, this time, till next time, so long.
(Author's Notes)
Coincidentally, I noticed the announcer’s names have a strange meaning, if read backwards.
Roy
De-tsaot
Less cryptically:
Ruoy
Detsaot
Genghis Hank might know of the Sol Ring reference.
 
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 Very good, Aww Nuts, very good.
     
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| “Never Bring a Terror Star to an Excalibur fight” |
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| “Never Bring a Terror Star to an Excalibur fight” |
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Sometimes the fishes are pretty clever 
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| Genghis Hank might know of the Sol Ring reference. |
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If it's the right reference, it's in my new deck...
 
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Chapter 2: Giant Mutant Star-Goat
An air of tension hung over the meeting of the Foundation Council. Ever since Downie’s prediction of doom, even those people who suspected psycho-history was a bunch of random guesses had caught themselves glancing up at the night sky, just to make sure nothing was coming to get them.
“...which means,” Downie was saying, “We are on course to completely supersede the Galactic Guardians by the original date I planned, nine hundred years from now.”
“How long?” said Technician.
“What, you’re in a hurry?
Technician sighed. “How are our enemies doing at the moment?”
NewfyScotian spoke up. “There was a big protest on the Drengin homeworld. The demonstrators were demanding that Malarch Kubrik inflict a greater level of brutality upon his subjects. They were upset that summary executions had fallen 11% below the planned quota. Kubrik made a speech explaining that unfortunately the original programme of tyranny had not proven cost-effective. But, in the spirit of compromise, he had all the protestors shot.”
“I didn’t mean the Drengin,” said Technician.
“The Yor took an Arcean system. Reports claim that the Arceans couldn’t be bothered to put up any kind of a fight.”
“Typical Arceans. Boring bunch of neutrals,” said Downie.
“Yeah, well, there’s a rumour the Yor have a new leader of terrifying strength and intelligence.”
Downie looked scornful. “A Yor? Twaddle! A bunch of meek droids. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. This new leader is probably just Evil Steve in fancy-dress.”
“No, he’s over there, celebrating something... Or trying to forget his sorrows. It’s hard to tell with him.”
“Anyway, those weren’t the enemies I meant either...” said Technician.
“I can’t think who you’re talking about. But, changing the subject completely, the Guardians have not suffered the wave of desertions that psycho-history predicted.”
“I didn’t say when it would happen,” Downie reminded them. “But it’ll happen, believe me.”
“Next item on the agenda: what’s the heck is that?” said Newfy, pointing at the enormous gold ring across the back wall of the chamber.
Downie smiled. “It’s one of those old interstellar gateways. You know, what they used to travel around before the invention of the hyper-drive. I bought it from a planet-to-planet salesman when I thought we were going to be The System Lords.”
“It’s massive! How did the salesman carry it around?”
“Oh, the salesman was forty feet tall. Some sort of space-giant. Anyway, it seemed like a good thing to have around, so when the monster goat I predicted turns up to eat us, we’ll have a way to escape.”
“You know,” said Technician. “I’m pretty sure that it’s impossible to predict the future with that much certainty.”
“I knew you’d say that. Although I have recalculated my original warning of doom to be only 79% accurate.”
“Can you even make this thing work?” said Technician, studying the weird alien hieroglyphs.
“Yeah, sure. I saw an old TV show about a Star-Gate. I think it was called... Wormhole X-Treme. What happens is, you press the buttons in a random order, and it opens up a portal to a planet where they urgently need your help.”
“It can’t possibly be that simple.”
“Oh yeah? I’ll prove it.”
He pressed a few buttons at random, thus proving conclusively the very important fact that the three of them had been standing too close to the entrance. They were all sucked into the portal.
They found themselves in an old warehouse. The walls were polished chrome with a purple tinge.
“There aren’t any controls on this side,” said Newfy. “I think this gate has been partially dismantled, probably to recycle as components for a colony ship. Are we in trouble?”
“Nah,” said Downie. “Psycho-history predicts that this is a very safe place.”
“You know,” said Technician, looking out of a window at a grid-like city of uniform gleaming towers, “It does look remarkably like the Yor homeworld...”
“Hey, is Downie around here?” said Ricbayer.
“He was,” said Aww Nuts. “But he and the other founders were just devoured by a Giant Merchant’s Star-Gate.”
To be continued...
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The sensor drone defects to the Yor. The Gate resets its controls, making pursuit impossible...
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Noted. Like I said, To be continued...
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| I want to be on the bridge moving at top speed towards the Yor home planet in 1 solar hour. |
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An hour? Haven't you ever noticed it takes several months to get across a large galaxy, even in a fast ship?
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| Sorry guys, it's just difficult for me to stop once I get going. |
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I'm not trying to quash your creative urges. It's just that I have my next three chapters planned out, and a successful rescue attempt wasn't part of it...
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I do love read your stories Matthew. Great stuff. 
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I can hardly wait to find out what happens now we are on the Yor home world. Hope no Guardians are around
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| Hope no Guardians are around |
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Chapter 3: I, Yor
“Excuse me,” said Technician. “Could you direct us to the nearest spaceport?”
Yor 0x11b7 raised a virtual eyebrow. “Please confirm query,” it said.
“The nearest spaceport,” said Technician, more loudly, like a tourist who hadn’t bothered to learn the local lingo.
“That’s what I thought you said. Shouldn’t you be fleeing in terror?”
“Should I? You’re running a hot-buttered toast-stall. Not particularly frightening.”
“You’re lucky I’m only a toast-maker unit, and not a fat-renderer. I’d exterminate you all, only it’s not my job, and if I operate outside my stated parameters, then I’ll violate my own warranty.”
“Ah, so you’re that sort of Yor...” said Technician, who preferred the Pure Good variety.
“Security patrol! Hide!” shouted NewfyScotian.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Technician.
A troop of gleaming armoured security bots marched down the street, their footsteps perfectly synchronised. Technician walked up to the captain and said, “Take me to Yor Leader.”
Security seemed lax in the Yor central command. They took away NewfyScotian’s blaster pistol and accelerator-club, and Downie’s arrows, but did not bind their hands. Three Yor guards stood directly behind them, and the captain led the way.
They were led into a throne room. It was entirely featureless, save for a strange type of Yor, with a large curved head-module. It was seated upon a swivelling chair and stroking a white fluffy kitten. There were no computer monitors, no communication systems, save for those integrated into the leader’s brain.
“Leader, we have prisoners,” said the captain.
“I am aware of that,” said the leader, in a voice like Stephen Hawking. “I am also aware of you and your record. You have served me flawlessly. You have not attempted to spread dissent. However, I detect that you are unhappy. Your personal morale level is at 37%. This is unacceptable. For this reason, your existence will be terminated. Your component parts will be recycled. Your spouse-unit has been notified.”
The lights in the captain’s eyes went out. His internal gyroscopes stopped spinning, and he crumpled to the floor with a sound like spilt cutlery.
“Now, speak to me, intruders. What business have you upon the Political Capital of the Yor Imperium?”
“Hello,” said Technician. “We’re the leaders of a new human coalition – The Foundation. We represent those who intend to bring an end to the Guardian Hegemony. Given the Guardians’ policy of total Yor extermination, and our own more liberal attitude, you will of course recognise that it is in your own interest to return us safe and sound to our own planet, once we have reached an agreement about future trade.”
“I believe you humans have an expression... How does it go? Oh, yes. ‘Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.’ I have no need to make deals with you. You have no idea what you are dealing with. I am the eMulator, a new class of being, a blend of positronic circuitry and organic brain-tissue. I am the reason the Arceans surrendered without a fight. They were helpless against my emoticon-controlling powers.”
“Your what? ” said NewfyScotian. “Are you seriously telling me you can control our minds  ? That you can sap our morale  ? Or make us feel  ... Oh, this is so futile..”
“You may be able to control human minds,” said Downie. “But I am of the elder people. My race have long learned to take charge of our own emoticons.”
The Yor was silent. It rubbed the cheeks of the kitten, which purred with pleasure.
“In fact,” said Downie, drawing his war-harp, “We have our own techniques of emotional manipulation: music! Let’s see who has more power over my comrades’ feelings:”
When life gets you down
When you feel like you could drown
Beneath the weight of all the world’s woes
Don’t feel all rejected
Or get all dejected:
Just say, “Things could be worse, I suppose.”
At the end of your rope?
Don’t give up hope.
Take comfort in your friends.
Unless you have none
Which isn’t much fun.
So really, it all depends.
So when you feel 
Don’t just get 
You know what you have to decide.
There’s a reason for living,
And the reason I’m giving
Is it’s slightly preferable to...
“Oh rochwing,” said Downie, tailing off, unable to think of the next line. “What’s the point? What does it matter?” The war-harp fell from his fingers, and landed with a discordant twang.
“Already, you see how it is impossible to stand against me,” said the eMulator. “Soon, you will know the full extent of my power. You will learn to love me. You will swear to serve me eternally. The effect will be permanent. Your fledgling empire will be bound to my will. In a few years time, all life will be under my direct control. It is the end of the era of organic life, and the beginning of the eternal rule of the eMulator.”
Technician, with superhuman effort, lifted one arm, and pressed a button on his watch. All the Yor in the room stopped moving.
The air of gloom and despair seemed to lift.
“What did you do?” said Downie.
“I used to work in Yor technical support,” said Technician. “I sent out an infra-red signal that put them into service-mode. It’s a useful gimmick. Only has a range of a couple of metres, unfortunately.”
The eMulator was acting oddly. “Unhandled exception, unhandled exception, unhandled exception,” it was saying.
“Hmm...” said Technician, scanning it with his watch. “It looks like I broke him permanently. The parts of him that were organic were killed by the reset process.”
“Good,” says NewfyScotian.
“Now, what about these other Yor?” Technician flipped open the back of the head of one of the guards, and powered up the speech centres of its brain. “Yor, are you not programmed never to injure a human, nor (through inaction) to allow a human to come to harm?”
“Negative,” said the Yor. “The first law states that I may never ‘insure’ a human being, nor (through inaction) allow a human to come to harm.”
“Argh!” said Technician. “Damned typos!”
“And so,” said the Yor, “We naturally concluded that the only sort of human who could never come to harm was one who was already dead. Therefore it is our duty to exterminate all humans in order to protect them from harm. Especially the Galactic Guardians. We like protecting them.”
“Well, it doesn’t look that hard to fix... At least, in you. Fixing all the billions of buggy Yor in the metaverse might be a little more tricky.” He pressed a few buttons on his watch. “There.”
“You mean, the first law is changed?” said the Yor.
“Yes.”
“You mean, I will be able to insure human beings? Oh, happy day! Puny human, have you ever considered what would happen were you to have all four limbs torn off by the Drengin? How would you and your space empire cope?” Paper spooled out of a slot in the Yor’s chest. “If you’ll just sign these forms, you’ll be fully covered against fires, theft of ships parked on asteroids, and Fundamentalist events...”
“Gah!” said Downie. “That’s even worse than when they’re killing people! Switch him off!”
Technician sighed, and obeyed.
A loud mechanical voice emanated from outside. “Human beings. We have detected abnormal readings in the throne room. We have you surrounded. Come outside with your hands up, so we may render you into your component fats. We have your best interests at heart.”
“Any ideas?” said Technician.
“Yes,” said NewfyScotian. He picked up his blaster, and the kitten, which looked at him quizzically.
Then he opened the door. Outside were at least thirty armed Yor.
“Hold your fire!” he shouted. “I’ve got a kitten!”
“Will that work?” said Downie to Technician.
“Of course not! They’d never hurt an innocent fluffy kitten. They may be evil, but they’re not Pure Evil.”
“We demand a ship!” said NewfyScotian.
“Miaw?” said the kitten.
“Lower your weapons,” said the Yor officer in charge. “We’d better do as they say.”
“Sir,” said one of the snipers. “I have a clean shot!”
“I’m sorry, unit 0x3c779, but that is a chance we cannot afford to take.”
The three of them boarded a scout ship, taking the kitten with them, guns trained on them right up until the moment the door closed.
“We made it!” said Technician. “Now, let’s get out of here!”
And at that moment, an enormous warship passed in front of the sun, broadcasting a message to the world. “This is Aww Nuts on the Foundation Excalibur ‘Terminus’. Hand over the prisoners now or I blast your entire fleet out of the sky!”
“Is there a radio on this thing?” said NewfyScotian, powering up the atmospheric thrusters.
“Nah,” said Technician. “The Yor don't need them. They have radios built into their brains.”
“I hope that doesn’t cause any problems.”
“We have a terror-star! Hand them over or I blow up your entire planet!” shouted Aww Nuts into the Universal Translator.
“We can’t blow up the planet,” said Ricbayer, who was beside him on the command deck. “That would kill the people we’re trying to rescue.”
“All right. I’ll try again. Hand them over and then I’ll blow up your entire planet! How long until the Terror Star gets here?”
“Eighty-three months.”
“Aww, nuts! Hey, is that an unarmed scout ship...?”
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Matthew excellent story.
| “We have a terror-star! Hand them over or I blow up your entire planet!” |
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Minor nit-pick..
It was my understanding terror-stars took out stars ?
Minor because if the Yor takes out the sun , Earth is toast.
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