Post by Thorvald of Lym on Jul 20, 2013 12:30:36 GMT -8
"You've got to admit," said Fegelein, pulling off work gloves that had mysteriously materialized on his hands, "Given the company I have to work with, that wasn't a bad rescue."
"I shall assume the hint of disparagement was not directed towards me," Arkady commented before leaving the cockpit.
"If we discount that Alec Guinness was killed in the attempt, then maybe," the princess replied as Fegelein took his first mate's seat.
"Can't say I didn't try to talk him out of it," he muttered defensively. "Odd way to go, though. It almost looked like suicide..."
"Well don't think the Empire's given up on us."
"What do you mean?"
"They're tracking us," she grinned mirthlessly, "It's the only explanation for the ease of our escape."
"Not this ship, Fraulein."
Kaiser sighed, knowing further debate was pointless. "At least the gentleman still has the information intact..."
"What's so important about what he's carrying, anyway?"
"It's the technical readouts of that battle station," she replied. With a forlorn look, she shook her head. "I only hope that when the data's analyzed a weakness can be found. It's not over yet."
"It is for me." Kaiser started to object but the officer quickly cut her off. "Don't get me wrong, ordinarily I'd be more than happy to throw a shoe into the Imperial gears, but right now I've got more personal problems taking precedence. The only reason we're out here is because pretty-boy promised El Dorado."
"You needn't worry about your reward," she said, stiffly; "If money is all that you love, then that's what you'll receive." The princess quickly rose from the chair, nearly colliding with Chris at the entranceway. "Your friend is quite a mercenary," she said, more to Fegelein than the boy; "I wonder if he really cares about anything... or anybody."
Chris watched her storm off. "I care!" he called, two seconds too late. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, then took Kaiser's place in the pilot's seat. "So...... what do you think of her?"
Fegelein rolled his eyes. "I'm trying not to, kid."
"Good," he said softly.
Fegelein looked over to Chris, who was doing a terrible job of suppressing his thoughts. "Still," he began, "She's got spirit..." Chris looked up, but not at anything in particular.
Fegelein was about to continue when Chris started suddenly: "Do you think a princess and a guy like me—"
"No," he said simply. Chris sat there, mouth hanging open mid-sentence. Fegelein arched an eyebrow, daring Chris to continue. The boy looked away, and the officer returned to the controls, grinning inwardly.
The Raptor exited hyperspace in the vicinity of an iron-red gas giant. Cruising to the planet's far side, an Earth-like moon appeared. Hundreds of websites had spring up in anticipation of Doomsday 2012, and their subsequent vacancy provided the Resistance with no shortage of secret bases. The ship began its descent into the atmosphere, and within half an hour was skimming over rainforest canopies. They eventually caught sight of Mayan-style ruins demarcating the main base and prepared to land; in a guard tower a few hundred metres away, a sentry shook his head. "Tell 'em a rebellion's on and they plum forget all about the law," he muttered, reading the number on his radar gun.
The posse was met by a group of soldiers who shuttled them to the hangar entrance. Chris stared up in wonder at the pyramid-like edifice. "Gotta hand it to cultists," muttered Arkady, "When it comes to presentation, they spare no expense." Inside, pilots and technicians were in constant motion, what looked like the entire fleet ready to move out at a moment's notice. Their shuttle halted and the group disembarked; Kaiser's face lit up as she made her way over to a bearded general officer.
"Thank God, you're safe!" he cried, and the two embraced. "When we heard about Dr. Who, we feared the worst..."
"There will be a time and a place for our sorrows, General," Kaiser said, resuming a serious demeanour. She led him over to where Farnsworth and Jenkins had dismounted from a second shuttle; the rest of the group was compelled to follow. "You must use the information guarded by this gentleman to help plan the attack. It's our only hope."
"General Nikos Stavros," the officer introduced himself, shaking each of their hands in turn, "Second-in-command of this determined band of freedom-fighters." When he reached Fegelein, he hesitated.
"Hermann Fegelein," said the Obergruppenführer, unfazed, "The pilot that pulled your princess out of that imperial prison." Stavros nodded, and took his hand.
"Were you followed?"
"They bugged the ship, but I took care of it before we left."
"o that reminds me," Chris jutted in. He delved into his robes and withdrew a black box. "I saw it lying by the ramp, you must have forgotten it. I didnt have time to pick it up so i kicked it back on board, but I checked and it doesnt seem broken."
The entire hangar fell silent. Arkady made a squeak bordering on ultrasonic.
"Don't everyone thank me at once," Chris grinned coyly.
Stavros grabbed his radio. "Ready all pilots for combat."
------------------------------
Opposite the moon, the Doom Sphere propelled itself, somehow, toward the planet. The intercom buzzed in George's office, breaking him out of his fantasy of the day. After flailing about wildly, he managed to hit the speaker button. "Ey-ye-e-e-e-es?" he uttered. Lackarse stood by stoically.
"We are approaching survive2012now.com. The Resistance base is on a moon on the far side. We are preparing to navigate the website."
"Oh, Princess!" George sighed, cradling an imaginary photo, "Soon we will be reunited at last!" Lackarse considered telling him the speaker was still on, but figured it wouldn't make a difference either way.
Meanwhile, on said moon, a sentry gazed across the canopy. The sun was setting, and a mist had descended on the for—wait a minute, if the moon's on the planet's far side, shouldn't it be night already? Give me a minute to check this.
...
...
Uh oh, bananas are going spotty. Should make some muffins or something.
...
OK, no, from the shadow they were both facing the sun. Disaster averted.
Now where were we?
Just about the entire fighter corps of the base was packed into a small conference room. Standing in front of a wall-sized display screen were Princess Kaiser, Stavros, and the Resistance commander, General Gunter von Esling, as well as a couple of other Allied moderators and a handful of guards. Chris sat among the pilots, at the end of one of the rows next to a young and dashing man named Omega124, who was such a great pilot that he'd probably get a whole series of books written about his adventures. Farnsworth and Jenkins stood a little behind; the taller man noted that there were quite a few short gentlemen standing about the periphery, dressed in what looked like Soviet tank crew uniforms. Fegelein and Arkady were at the very back, watching over the proceedings.
"The battle station is heavily shielded, and carries a firepower greater than half the starfleet," von Esling described, as a three-dimensional model of the Doom Sphere appeared behind him. "Its defences are designed around a direct, large-scale assault; strange as it may sound, a small one-man fighter should be able to penetrate the outer defence." Arkady looked to Fegelein with his Idea Face, but the officer made a dismissive gesture.
"Pardon me for asking, sir," interjected one of the pilots, "But what good are stunt fighters going to be against that?"
"Well, given that the Empire has been phasing out air tactics from its rulesets, it doesn't consider a small one-man fighter to be any threat; hence the lack of a tighter defence." He stepped back as the display changed to an opening somewhere on the Doom Sphere's surface. "An analysis of the plans provided by Princess Kaiser has identified a weakness in the battle station. Due to... what can only be the result of egregiously poor planning, a small thermal exhaust port in the northern hemisphere of the starboard side leads straight to the station's main reactor. The proper ordnance delivered down the shaft will critically overload the reactor and destroy the station. But, the approach will not be easy." The model zoomed out, beginning a simulated flight along the superstructure. "You must manouevre straight down this trench, and skim the surface to this point. The target area is only two metres wide."
There was much muttering and shaking of heads at this statement. "It's a trap," scoffed Omega. "Designed by the Emporer himself precisely to trick us into a suicide run."
"Its not impossible," Chris replied, "i became the supowerpoer in multipolarity and then kicked democratic china's ass even though everyone hated me!"
"Yeah, I heard about that game," he retorted, "Didn't the GM hold your hand through the whole thing?"
Chris glared indignantly.
"...Then man your ships," von Esling finished, "And may the Farce be with you."
Onboard the Doom Sphere, George and Lackarse observed a large display screen depicting the station's progress toward its objective. "Orbiting the planet at maximum velocity," reported the intercom, "The moon with the rebel base will be in range in thirty minutes."
"THIS WILL BE A DAY LONG REMEMBERED," said Lackarse. "IT HAS SEEN THE END OF ALEC GUINNESS, AND WILL SOON SEE THE END OF THE RESISTANCE." George cast a furtive glance backward. Lackarse was acting as if he'd done all the work.
Back on the moon, "All flight crews man your stations" echoed over the intercom. Chris, Farnsworth and Jenkins rounded a corner, the boy dressed in pilot's gear. He saw Arkady and Fegelein loading large crates onto a trolley and made his way over.
"So," he began, "you got your reward and your just leaving then??"
"No pulling the wool over your eyes, is there, Sherlock?" the officer replied. "I've got some old debts to pay off with this. Even if I didn't, you don't think I'd be fool enough to stick around here, do you?" He took a moment to calculate Chris' survivability, cost-of-maintenance, and highest general value in an antic, then said, "Why don't you come with us? You're pretty good—" *snnnk* "—'scuse me—in a fight... We could use you."
Arkady looked up with a bemused smirk.
"C'mon!" said the kid, "Why dont you take a look around you know whats about to happen what they're up against!! They could use a good pilot like you your turning your back on them!!!"
"Myself, I've never seen the practicality of martyrdom. Besides, attacking that battle station isn't my idea of courage. More like suicide."
"Alright. Well take care of yourself fegelein. i guess its what you're best at isn't it!!" Chris stormed off.
"Hey, Chris," Fegelein called, and the boy spun around angrily. "May the Farce be with you."
He stood in silence for a moment, then continued down the hangar.
"You know," Arkady piped up, "You could just tell him."
"I know what I'm doing," he replied. "God knows what'd happen if he grew dependent on us." He peered across the hangar. "Hey, Arkady, that man over there; does he look familiar to you?"
The werewolf followed his gaze. "Can't say I recognize him."
"I've seen him before. Just a minute..." Arkady watched quizzically as Fegelein abruptly made off, shrugged, and returned to loading the cart.
Farnsworth finally figured out the purpose of all the short gentlemen. The Allies' fighters contained crawlspaces with controls for all the ship's components. The pilots flew, and the gentlemen worked as onboard mechanics. He could see a few being lifted into the narrow entry hatches just behind the cockpit; these were capped by small domes, presumably windows to operate the small pair of Canadarms affixed close by for external repairs. Conceptually it was a rather clever idea, but he did not envy Jenkins' aptitude for such a role.
He and Chris came upon Kaiser, accompanied by General Stavros and a group of guards. "What's wrong?" asked the princess.
"Oh, it's Fegelein," he explained. "I dont know, I really thought he'd change his mind!!"
Kaiser shook her head. "He's going to follow his own path, like it or not. No-one can choose it for him."
"I only wish Ali-G were here."
Kaiser weighed her options, then, somewhat hesitantly, leaned in and pecked Chris' cheek. He looked up, eyes widening; she quickly walked off followed by the retinue, Stavros eyeing him dubiously. Chris continued through the hangar, a dumb smile plastered on his face. Right before he walked into the laser cannon on the underside of a fighter wing, a voice made him turn around.
"So, despite all my wise counsel, you decided to join the mad crusade after all."
"Jehoshua!!!" Chris cried. A pilot resembling Machiavelli, a priest's collar visible beneath his flight suit, made his way over, clapping his arm over the boy's back in a fraternal gesture but that held just the subtlest hint of a power relationship.
Jehoshua gave a sidelong grin as he eyed Chris up and down. "We must be in dire straits indeed to have recruited you at such short notice."
"I'll be right up there with you!!" the boy beamed. "Have I got stories to tell you—!"
"New kid; christos, right?" They both turned around to face the veteran wing leader, a gold-coloured helmet held under his arm. He sauntered over, looking up at the fighter before turning back to the boy, bemused. "You sure you can handle this ship?"
Jehoshua spoke up. "Sir, I can speak from experience. christos200 has proven a valuable tool given the right handler." He flashed another wicked grin, returned by the leader.
"You'll do alright," he concluded, clapping him on the shoulder.
"I wont let you down I promise!!"
The squad leader headed down the hangar. "Well," said Jeho, "I must to my own ship. You can talk my ear off about all your escapades when we return."
"Hey Jehoshua!" Chris shouted, and he turned back. "I told you i'd make it some day!!" Jeho gave a polite smile, then quickly departed. Chris made his way over to his fighter. A flight crew was helping Jenkins into the ship's tiny auxiliary compartment. As Chris clambered up the ladder into the cockpit, a technician addressed him.
"This gentleman of yours seems a bit beat up," he remarked, "You want a new one?"
"ok."
"Hah! I'm just messin' with ya. We don't treat people like chattel! Which planet are you from? Greece?" Jenkins gave a short whistle. "Oh–!" he choked, grinning even wider. Chris scowled as he boarded the fighter.
"Gold Squadron, begin take-off procedure," announced the P.A.
"Hold on tight, Jenkins!" called Farnsworth, "You've got to come back!" His counterpart gave a little trill. "You wouldn't want my life to get boring, would you?" Jenkins chirruped, flashing what looked like a smile before he disappeared into the machinery and a transparent dome sealed atop the manhole.
Elsewhere in the hangar, the squad leader tracked down a pilot bearing an uncanny resemblance to Jonathan Goldsmith. "Parkins, you never told us you were an ace!"
"Well I—wait, what?" he asked, confounded.
"I know we'd had you on reserve, but a pilot of your calibre is exactly what we need for this offensive!"
"Ace? What?" he repeated, confused and increasingly frightened.
"I've swapped you in for Qiu; you'll be flying in my squad. See you in the air, champ!" The squad leader grinned, then made off for his own fighter, leaving a trembling Tyo.
Shuttles rolled through the hangar, pilots leaping off to board their strike craft. The P.A. said something, but I missed it. Engines revved and flight crews hastily withdrew their equipment as the pilots donned their crash helmets and sealed the cockpits. "Fifteen seconds to take-off." The air was rife with anxiety; a few straggling technicians scrambled out of the way as the ships slowly lifted off, ground navigators directing their path out of the complex.
"Chris, the Farce will be with you." Chris spun his head right to left, searching for the phantom. It sounded uncannily like Ali-G...
A melodic passage started up as the fighters left the hangar and oriented themselves skyward. The tune quickly switched to an anxious march as Kaiser, Farnsworth and an intel officer walked briskly through the communications room to a large circular interface. "Standby alert," buzzed the P.A., "Doom Sphere approaching." A display appeared, showing the planet, their base, the incoming battle station, and its firing arc. "Estimated time to firing range: 15 minutes."
The strike craft crested the planet's horizon and now had visual contact with the station. "All wings, report in," called the fighter leader.
"Red 10, standing by."
"Red 7, standing by."
"Red 3, standing by," said Jehoshua.
"Red 6, standing by," muttered Tyo.
"Red 9, standing by."
"Red 2, standing by," Omega reported.
"Red 11, standing by."
"Red 5 standing by," said Chris.
"Lock S-foils in attack position," ordered the leader, once all craft had checked in.
The wings on the fighters split open into four separate foils, each mounting a long laser cannon; this provided the origin of the ships' nickname of 'X-wing'. As the squadron approached the Doom Sphere, the craft began to shake violently. "We're passing through the magnetic field," advised Red 1, "Hold tight; switch your deflectors on, double front."
The ships were now close enough to make out some of the finer details of the station. "Damn," breathed Omega, "Is this a space station, or overflow for the Emporer's ego?"
"Cut the chatter, Red 2," scolded the wing leader; "Decelerate to attack speed." The wing banked to the right, gradually levelling off. "This is it, boys."
"Red 1, this is Gold 1," called the bomber commander.
"I copy, Gold 1."
"We're starting for the target shaft now."
"We're in position. I'm gonna cut across the axis and try to draw their fire."
The music picked up pace as the X-wings dove in. The station's gunners, now actually seeing the incoming craft with their own eyes, hastily opened fire. Despite the massive barrage, not a single shot hit as the abysmal training standard of the shock troopers was scaled proportionately to the Doom Sphere's twin laser turrets.
"Chris, trust your feelings."
Chris tapped his helmet, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't the intercom. Two fighters flew past a turret danger close before pitching up. Back in the comm room, most of the other officers had joined Kaiser around the 'map'. "Heavy fire, boss," Omega reported, "23 degrees."
"I see it; stay low!"
Omega skimmed across the surface, strafing the construct in front and sending one fire team running for cover as their cannon overheated. Chris inhaled sharply, realizing Omega had claimed first blood. "This is Red 5 im going in!!!" He made a steep dive, squeezing the trigger as he blasted the station for everything he was worth.
"christos, pull up!" shouted Jehoshua. The boy gasped, yanking back on the controls as he sailed right through the ensuing explosion. Sparks trailed from his craft as he returned to a safe altitude.
"You know that's a brand new fighter?" asked Jeho, a touch of scorn.
"I got a little cooked back there but im OK," he replied. The fighters zoomed past a now non-functional battery.
"Red 1, this is Gold 1," called the bomber commander, "We're starting our attack run."
"I copy, Gold 1, move into position." A 3-ship wing pitched forward toward the station. The craft had dart-like fuselages with twin engines that connected to the stern and trailed nearly another full length behind. The Y-like shape easily explained their nickname, 'Tuning Forks'.
Meanwhile, onboard the Doom Sphere, klaxons wailed as shock troopers ran this way and that, not entirely sure what they were supposed to be doing. One officer darted down the halls, nervously peering around corners before spying Darth Lackarse, quickly running over to him. The Dork Lord didn't break stride, and the man had to jog to keep by his side. "We count thirty Resistance ships, Lord Lackarse," he panted, "But they're so small they're evading our turbo lasers!"
Lackarse fought hard the urge to head-butt the man, reminding himself that this probably wasn't the officer in charge of gunnery training. "WE'LL HAVE TO DESTROY THEM SHIP-TO-SHIP," he surmised. "GET THE CREWS TO THEIR FIGHTERS." The officer nodded and ran off.
Red Squadron sailed through a dizzying salvo of laser blasts. "Watch yourselves!" called the leader, "There's a lot of fire coming from the right side of that deflection tower."
"I'm on it!!" shouted Chris.
"I'm going in," said Jehoshua. "Cover me, Parkins."
"Oh God," moaned Tyo.
Not waiting for Chris, the two fighters drew level with the tower, delivering a concentrated strike. The offending structure exploded, sending shockwaves through the station, soldiers flying to and fro as sections of the hall ruptured. Elsewhere, Lackarse located two Imperial pilots in gear. "SEVERAL STRIKE CRAFT HAVE BROKEN OFF FROM THE MAIN GROUP," he stated; "COME WITH ME." He turned about, and they hastily followed after him.
Looking to follow up their success, Jehoshua continued into another fire zone, only for Tyo to find himself caught in a flurry of laser fire. "Oh man, we're in spaceships!" he cried, "I knew it! He cursed me!!"
"You're fine," said Jeho, "Stay on course."
"No way, I'm getting out of here!"
"You can hold it!"
"Screw you, you bastard Papist hypocrite! I wanna li–AAAAIIEGH!! AAUUUGHH!!!" Tyo screamed as his fighter blew apart in a fiery explosion.
The Doom Sphere's progression plodded along the station's counterpart map, which quite frankly looked a grand deal less helpful than the Resistance's. "The Resistance base will be in firing range in seven minutes," reported the intercom. George paid no attention; he was seated on the floor in front of a toy table covered in plastic teacups. This in turn was ringed by stools for his CCP Heroes of the People™ action figures, two of which were currently being jostled up and down in time to his internal dialogue. "Why yes, Comrade Lon Dong! I should love another cup of tea as we celebrate the destruction of these heathen rebels! / I couldn't agree more, Comrade Phat Phuc! Truly ours is the greatest of strategies! Soon all of Europe will worship our master cult—"
Jesus, let's get back to the fighting.
Three Kite Flyers took off from a hangar. In the middle was a special model that actually looked like a ship and not some carpentry experiment; you probably surmised it was Lackarse's personal fighter. "STAY IN ATTACK FORMATION," he said, tweaking his controls.
Back at the Allied base, the intel officer stepped away from a console and adjusted his headset. "Squad leaders, we've picked up a new group of signals. Enemy fighters coming your way."
"My scope's negative I dont see anything!!" said Chris.
"Keep up your visual scanning," ordered Red 1; "Here they come!"
Sixty Kite Flyers in a neat little row descended on the X-wings. "Watch it," called Red 1, "You've got one on your tail!"
The impugned pilot desperately tried to shake him, but it looked as though these fighters might actually be worth a damn. The Kite Flyer closed in fast. "I'm hit!" he cried; seconds later the ship exploded.
"Jeho you picked one up watch it!!" Chris shouted.
He tried to spy it out of his cockpit, but to no avail. "Then make like the Lord and watch over me," he said. Jeho put his ship into a steep dive before banking hard to the right. The enemy fighter kept pace; he began zig-zagging back and forth. "He's on me tight; I can't shake him."
"First I've heard you turning down an encounter," Omega muttered off-radio.
"I'll be right there!!" Chris fell in behind the Kite Flyer. He watched the icon of the offending ship flit back and forth across his AimAssist. As Jeho and the tango levelled out, it fell within the centre of the screen and Chris squeezed the trigger; the Kite Flyer exploded.
The Allied generals circled around the display. "Pull in!" Jeho's voice crackled over the radio, "christos, pull in!"
"Watch your back, Chris," Omega joined in, "Watch your back! Fighter's above you; coming in." Panicking, the boy cast glances to the rear. The Kite Flyer quickly fell in line and opened up a salvo, one shot striking the top left engine.
"I'm hit but not bad," he reported, "Jenkins see what you can do with it." The gentleman chirped, hoisting himself to the dome and deploying a Canadarm. "Hang on back there!!"
"The exhaust port is locked and marked in," called Gold 1. The bombers dodged fire from a single surface turret as they dove into the trench, a lateral barrage opening up as they levelled out. "Switch all power to front deflector screen."
Still trailed by the Kite Flyer, Chris began swerving back and forth, narrowly dodging the fighter's shots. "Red 6," called the leader, "Do you see Red 5?"
"There's a heavy fire zone on this side," crackled Red 10, "Red 5, where are you?"
"I cant shake him!!!" he shouted, providing absolutely no help to his would-be rescuers. He dove toward the station surface, but the fighter kept on him.
"I'm on him, Chris," called Omega, spying the fighters and peeling off toward them, "Hang on!"
"Blast it Jeho where are you??" the boy muttered.
Just as the Kite Flyer lined up the shot, an X-wing assaulted head-on. The ship exploded while the Allied craft corkscrewed triumphant. "Thanks Megs," sighed Chris.
"Hey, no," Omega called, "You gotta earn that privilege."
"Good shooting, Megs," Jeho called.
Meanwhile, the twin-linked turrets continued their suppressive fire as the bombers swerved up and down the trench. "How many guns do you think, Gold 5?" asked the squad leader.
"I'd say about twenty guns," he replied, "Some on the surface, some on the towers."
"The Doom Sphere will be in range in five minutes," buzzed the intercom back on the moon base.
"Switch to targeting computer," ordered the leader, and a tracking aid deployed in front of him.
"Computer's locked," reported Gold 2, "Getting a signal..." Suddenly, the barrage ceased. "The guns; they've stopped!"
"Stabilize your rear deflectors," advised Gold 5, "Watch for enemy fighters!"
"They're coming in!" called the leader, "Three marks at 2:10!"
Lackarse and his escort flew into the trench in perfect formation. "I'LL TAKE THEM MYSELF. COVER ME."
"Yes, sir," copied a pilot.
In seconds they had caught up with the bombers and Lackarse drew a lead on Gold 2. Eschewing the typical gratuitous fanfare of Imperial forces, he squeezed the triggers and blew the ship apart. Gold 1 cast a nervous glance behind as the fighters quickly closed the distance. "It's no good! I can't manoeuvre!"
"Stay on target," ordered Gold 5.
"We're too close!"
"Stay on target,"
"Loosen up!"
But it was too late; Lackarse aimed instead for the lead bomber, it too quickly exploding under a short salvo. Gold 5 pulled out immediately, but the fighters kept right on his tail. "Gold 5 to Red 1," he stammered, and Chris glanced down below, "Lost Kyril; lost Hutch..."
"I copy, Gold 5."
"It came from behind!"
Lackarse strafed the bomber, blowing off its port engine and sending it spiralling into the station. Chris swallowed, facing forward.
"All units, this is Red 1," the leader began after a moment, "Rendez-vous at Mark 6-point-1."
Back in the comm room, von Esling nodded to one of the signals analysts before joining the officers around the display screen.
"This is Red 2," Omega's voice crackled over the radio feed, "Flying toward you."
"Red 3," copied Jehoshua, "Standing by."
Von Esling turned on his speaker channel. "Red Squadron, this is Adler. Gold Squadron is rallying at your position but we can't afford to wait. Keep half your group on reserve and make a run yourselves."
"Copy, Adler. Chris, take Red 2 and 3. Hold up here and wait for my signal to start your run." Rather than copy the order, Chris simply nodded his head.
Red 1, supported by Red 10 and 12, dove into the trench. "This is it..!" The fighters raced through the trench, dodging a heavier barrage of laser fire.
"We should be able to see it by now!" called Red 10.
Seconds later the fire ceased. "Keep your eyes open for those fighters..!" ordered the leader.
"There's too much interference," reported Red 10. "Red 5, can you see them from where you are?"
"No sign of any—WAIT!!!" Everyone, in space and the comm room, winced. "Coming in to your, uh, back left!"
"I see them." Lackarse and his escort flew into the trench.
"I'm in range," reported Red 1, activating his computer; 27 000 metres and closing rapidly. "Target's coming up... Just hold 'em off for a few seconds!"
"CLOSE UP FORMATION," ordered Lackarse.
"Almost there..." 18 000 metres and closing.
The Kite Flyers had already caught up. Lackarse opened fire on Red 12, quickly shooting him down.
"You'd better let it loose!" cried Red 10, "They're right behind me!"
"Almost there..." 9000 metres and closing.
"I can't hold 'em!"
One of Lackarse's wingmen took him out.
The computer display fell to 0 and Red 1 deployed a secondary payload. "It's away!" he called, pulling out. He sailed past an explosion that rocked the station violently, throwing personnel from all quadrants down the halls like ragdolls.
"It's a hit?!" called Red 9, while the control crew held its breath.
"Negative, negative. It didn't go in. It just impacted on the surface." Kaiser gave von Esling a forlorn look.
Chris looked down to where Lackarse's fighter was trailing Red 1. The Dork Lord opened fire, scoring a hit on the ship's engine. "Red 1 were right above you! Turn to Point... oh-5, well cover for you!!"
"Stay there!" he replied, "I just lost my starboard engine." Omega, alarmed, peered out of his canopy, searching for the squad leader. Chris's face flashed befuddlement. "Get set up for your attack run!" Lackarse opened up another salvo, but the ship was already on a collision course. Red 1 let out a piercing shout as his fighter dove into the station, exploding in a fiery blast. Chris, bug-eyed and breathing nervously, faced forward.
"Resistance base three minutes and closing," reported the station intercom.
"Jeho, Megs lets close it up," the boy's voice buzzed through the intercom. Von Esling put a hand to Kaiser's shoulder. "Were going in, were going in full throttle!! that oughta keep those fighters off our backs!!!"
"I thought I told you..." started Omega.
"christos," warned Jehoshua, "At that speed and knowing your gung-ho tactics, you probably won't pull out in time."
"thats never stopped me before!!"
"Sadly, this is true."
Da, da da, da da. da da..!
The fighters dove into the trench in the third rendition of this scene. "We will hold back far enough to cover you," said Jeho.
"My scope shows the tower, but I can't see the exhaust port!" reported Omega. "You're sure the computer can hit it?"
"Watch yourself increase speed full throttle!!" Chris barked.
"What about that tower?"
"You worry about those fighters!! Ill worry about the tower!!" Chris shook his head; what would these chumps do without his natural leadership?
The computer display on the Doom Sphere bridge showed the moon cresting survive2012now.com. "Resistance base 1 minute and closing," reported the intercom. George's tea party was interrupted by the arrival of that British officer, who had to kneel down in order to address the Grand Mopp. "We've analyshed their attack, shir," he explained quietly, "And there ish a dainjah. Shall I 'ave yoar ship shtanding boay?"
George's laughter boomed through the room. "Evacuate?" he choked, "In our moment of triumph?" He slowly shook his head left to right condescendingly. "Once we've obliterated these rebels I'm having you court-martialled!" As he turned back to his playset, the officer silently gave the order to abandon ship.
Chris leaned forward as if it would make him go faster, narrowly dodging the incoming laser blasts. "Jenkins that stabilizers borken loose again see if you cant lock it down!!" The gentleman returned to his perch at the dome, whistling as he redeployed a Canadarm. The turrets fired off one more volley before halting; Jeho and Omega looked around nervously.
"Fighers!" called Omega, "Coming in, point-three!" Chris licked his lips, fighting to maintain control of his ship. Redlining didn't seem to help as the Kite Flyers were soon upon the furthest ship. A wingman opened up, striking Omega. "I'm hit!" echoed through the comm room. "Yeah, sorry guys, I think I'm gonna have to pull out."
Jehoshua opened his mouth but Chris cut him off. "Get clear Megs you cant do anymore good back there!"
"Sorry!" he repeated, pulling out of the trench. "You moron," he muttered off-radio.
"LET HIM GO," said Lackarse, "STAY ON THE LEADER."
Jehoshua's rage quickly turned to terror as he realized his head was now on the chopping block, reflected in the evaporation of his normal airs. "Hurry, christos, they're coming in much faster this time, I can't hold them."
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
"Jenkins try and increase the power!!" the boy thundered.
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
"Hurry up, christos!" screamed Jeho, "Quick! QUICK!!"
Lackarse got a lock. He squeezed the trigger, and Jehoshua's fighter disintegrated. Back at base, the officers exchanged nervous glances. Cold sweat trickled down Chris' face.
Onboard the Doom Sphere, George was now leaping about like a maniac. "Resistance base thirty seconds and closing," reported the intercom.
"I'M ON THE LEADER," Lackarse stated.
Jenkins chirrupped into the radio as the Kite Flyers soon enough caught up. "Hang on, old sport," muttered Farnsworth. Chris fumbled with his controls before giving up and craning his neck behind the tracking display. 35 000 metres and closing. Lackarse calmly adjusted his controls as he drew in range. Chris toyed with the computer as though it would suddenly grant him a random stats bonus.
DA. DA da. DA da. DA da.
DA. DA da. DA da. DA dadlaDADLADADLA—
Suddenly, a heavenly leitmotif cut in alongside the voice of Alec Guinness. "Use the Farce, Chris!" he called. The boy lashed about right and left, searching for the ghost. "Let go!" He frowned; maybe it didn't want to possess him?
"THE FARCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE," muttered Lackarse as he watched the ship careen back and forth.
"Chris, trust me!" Alec Guinness implored. Figuring the ghost would probably kill him if he didn't comply, Chris reached over and shut off the computer.
"His computer's off," noted an intel officer. "Chris, you switched off your targeting computer. What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" he said, too quickly and too high-pitched, prompting many operators to look up, "I'm alright!" Kaiser craned her neck back to stare at the ceiling.
Hyperventilating, Chris leaned forward again, ignoring Jenkins' alarmed chirrups as Lackarse got a lock. The gentleman dove for cover as laser fire grazed the top of the fighter. Chris looked down at the flashing light on his dashboard. "I've lost Jenkins!!"
Farnsworth dragged his hands over his face. "The Doom Sphere has cleared the planet," reported the intercom, "The Doom Sphere has cleared the planet." The display showed the station's firing arc dead-centred on the moon. Farnsworth shared a knowing glance with the princess.
"Resistance base in range," reported the Doom Sphere intercom. The display switched to a topographic scan of the moon.
"Fire," cried George, "Fire! FIRE!! UNTIL NOTHING'S LEFT STANDING!!!"
"Commence primary ignition." Technicians scrambled once again as they tried to prime the überfail.
If Chris was frowning any harder, he was liable to pop a blood vessel. Lackarse, for his part, found the fighter stubbornly keeping just below his firing line. He adjusted his controls, waiting for the target to inevitably pull up or dash itself on the station. Just as planned, the fighter faded in to the centre of his reticle. "I HAVE YOU NOW." He pressed both triggers.
But rather than the Resistance fighter, Lackarse's right wingman exploded. Chris gave a nervous glance backward. "WHAT?!" thundered Lackarse, he and his surviving escord looking skyward.
"Honey, I'm home!" Fegelein's voice blazed across all channels, friend and foe alike.
The Kite Flyer pilot, facing forward, found himself careening toward the trench wall. "Look out!" he called as he corrected, striking Lackarse's wing, sending the Dork Lord spiralling into space as he lost control and smashed into the opposite wall.
The Centurion Raptor banked sharply around to rejoin the surviving Resistance wing. "You're all clear, kid," called the Obergruppenführer, "Now let's blow this thing and go home." Chris looked down and saw a button marked with a banana sticker. He pressed it, then pulled the trigger to the auxiliary ammunition. Two banana-shaped projectiles rocketed out from under him, catching on the vent entrance and tumbling down the shaft. He let out a deep breath, angling up sharply before he collided with the superstructure, banking hard to rejoin the fleet.
Onboard the station, a controller pulled a lever while another flipped switches. "Stand by," called the intercom. The Resistance wing, led by Fegelein, fled as fast as its formation would allow from the Doom Sphere. At that very moment, the Grand Mopp interrupted his rabid frenzy... where was that comical 'boing'ing noise coming from? Two crewmen took cover as a beam of pure failure blasted through the tunnel. Similar beams converged at a single point above the dish-like depression on the station's surface.
In one gigantic blast, the Doom Sphere ceased to exist.
It was a very pretty explosion. Here, I brought a metal xylophone to enhance the experience.
"Great shot with those banana bombs," called Fegelein, exchanging a low-five with Arkady, "That was one in a million!"
Chris tried and failed to blink back tears of joy. "Remember," echoed Alec Guinness, "The Farce will be with you. Always."
Elsewhere, Lackarse finally regained control of his maligned fighter, and sailed off into space...
Chris returned to a hangar full of cheering men and women. Hands slapped his back as he descended the staircase. "Chris!" called the princess, running up from under the fighter, "There you are!"
"Kaiser!!" he cried, grabbing her and spinning around.
"This the line for free hugs?" The crowd parted behind them as Fegelein jogged over. Chris ran up and hugged him too.
"I knew youd come back i just knew it!!!!"
"What, and let you get all the credit and take all the reward?" Behind him, Akardy gave a knowing smirk.
"Hey," cried Kaiser, wrapping and arm around the officer's side, "I knew there was more to you than money!"
Their revelry was interruped by the shout of "Medic!" from a technician above. "Oh no," Chris muttered.
"Oh, Jove!" cried Farnsworth as a stretcher was carefully lowered. Jenkins lay, bloody and unconscious, the broken bottom half of his slide whistle clutched in his hand. "Say something!" he choked. "You can save him, can't you?" he turned to one of the medical staff.
"We'll get to work on him right away."
"You must revive him!" He turned to Chris. "Sir, if any of my organs will help, I'll gladly donate them!"
"He'll be alright," Chris patted him on the shoulder before putting an arm around Kaiser and walking her off. Fegelein shared a sympathetic face before hurrying after them.
------------------------------
The following day, Chris sported a fresh change of clothes, a black shirt underneath a mustard yellow faux-leather vest. He beamed at Fegelein, uniform freshly polished, who rolled his eyes, trying to suppress his own smile. Arkady had even dug up an old parade jacket for the occasion. As the fanfare crescendoed, the doors parted and the three men entered a vast atrium. Standing at attention on either side was the entire base personnel. At the far end, Princess Kaiser waited in a simple yet alluring white dress; her hair had been redone, a single bread roll tied in at the back. Fegelein strode forth commandingly, Chris somewhat nervously; halfway down the aisle, Arkady made a pirouette, thrusting a peace sign in the air and shouting "¡Viva la Resistencia!"
As the heroes ascended the main stage, the assembled party turned with military precision to face forward. Chris tried to remain composed as the princess looked over them, but his nerves got the better and he hiccuped, prompting her to break a smile. Fegelein shot her a dashing grin, which she returned. General von Esling stepped up to her side, taking a medal from an aide that he then passed to Kaiser. She proceeded to drape it over Fegelein's neck; the Master of Antics gave her a wink as he straightened up. She then turned to Chris. As she waited for the medal, he gave a glance over to the gentlemen standing along the side; Farnsworth looked better than he had in years, and Jenkins had made a full recovery. The boy leaned forward and Kaiser placed the medal about his neck. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to remind himself not to declare his love for her then and there.
The delegates turned to face the assembled, Arkady muttering "At least I'm a winner on the inside." The hall burst into applause. Hey, wait, he thought, Why the hell didn't all the pilots get a medal? The indefatigable Fegelein looked over to Chris, whose chest rose and fell with the giddiness of a boy who was in the throes of the greatest day of his life. He decided not to mention that the kid's fly was undone.
—DAAAA, da, da daaaa, da
DA! dada dada dadododo
Da, DA-, dadado deee, do
dadado deee, do
DA da DA DOOO,
Da, da DA
Written and Directed by
THORVALD OF LYM
Produced by
COREL® WORDPERFECT™ 12 & PROBOARDS
Executive Producer
THORVALD OF LYM
Starring
CHRISTOS200 – HERMANN FEGELEIN – PRINCESS BERNÁDETT KAISER
GEORGE I OF CHINA
and
ALEC GUINNESS
with
C. AUBREY FARNSWORTH, Esq., JENKINS APPLEBEE, OBE, ARKADY DMITRAEV,
DAVID PROWSE, JACK PURVIS, KEVIN McNALLY,
JAMES EARL JONES
as the voice of Darth Lackarse
So there you have it! The first in what I've been told is a trilogy that will go down in the annals of fanfiction history as one of the greatest epics ever put to digital distribution. The setting's occasional foul-ups aside, this was a pretty good run, I think, so I'll join you back here for Parte the Seconde as...
Well, I'd be a terrible narrator if I gave away the story, now wouldn't I?
Until next time, may the Farce be with you.
"I shall assume the hint of disparagement was not directed towards me," Arkady commented before leaving the cockpit.
"If we discount that Alec Guinness was killed in the attempt, then maybe," the princess replied as Fegelein took his first mate's seat.
"Can't say I didn't try to talk him out of it," he muttered defensively. "Odd way to go, though. It almost looked like suicide..."
"Well don't think the Empire's given up on us."
"What do you mean?"
"They're tracking us," she grinned mirthlessly, "It's the only explanation for the ease of our escape."
"Not this ship, Fraulein."
Kaiser sighed, knowing further debate was pointless. "At least the gentleman still has the information intact..."
"What's so important about what he's carrying, anyway?"
"It's the technical readouts of that battle station," she replied. With a forlorn look, she shook her head. "I only hope that when the data's analyzed a weakness can be found. It's not over yet."
"It is for me." Kaiser started to object but the officer quickly cut her off. "Don't get me wrong, ordinarily I'd be more than happy to throw a shoe into the Imperial gears, but right now I've got more personal problems taking precedence. The only reason we're out here is because pretty-boy promised El Dorado."
"You needn't worry about your reward," she said, stiffly; "If money is all that you love, then that's what you'll receive." The princess quickly rose from the chair, nearly colliding with Chris at the entranceway. "Your friend is quite a mercenary," she said, more to Fegelein than the boy; "I wonder if he really cares about anything... or anybody."
Chris watched her storm off. "I care!" he called, two seconds too late. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, then took Kaiser's place in the pilot's seat. "So...... what do you think of her?"
Fegelein rolled his eyes. "I'm trying not to, kid."
"Good," he said softly.
Fegelein looked over to Chris, who was doing a terrible job of suppressing his thoughts. "Still," he began, "She's got spirit..." Chris looked up, but not at anything in particular.
Fegelein was about to continue when Chris started suddenly: "Do you think a princess and a guy like me—"
"No," he said simply. Chris sat there, mouth hanging open mid-sentence. Fegelein arched an eyebrow, daring Chris to continue. The boy looked away, and the officer returned to the controls, grinning inwardly.
The Raptor exited hyperspace in the vicinity of an iron-red gas giant. Cruising to the planet's far side, an Earth-like moon appeared. Hundreds of websites had spring up in anticipation of Doomsday 2012, and their subsequent vacancy provided the Resistance with no shortage of secret bases. The ship began its descent into the atmosphere, and within half an hour was skimming over rainforest canopies. They eventually caught sight of Mayan-style ruins demarcating the main base and prepared to land; in a guard tower a few hundred metres away, a sentry shook his head. "Tell 'em a rebellion's on and they plum forget all about the law," he muttered, reading the number on his radar gun.
The posse was met by a group of soldiers who shuttled them to the hangar entrance. Chris stared up in wonder at the pyramid-like edifice. "Gotta hand it to cultists," muttered Arkady, "When it comes to presentation, they spare no expense." Inside, pilots and technicians were in constant motion, what looked like the entire fleet ready to move out at a moment's notice. Their shuttle halted and the group disembarked; Kaiser's face lit up as she made her way over to a bearded general officer.
"Thank God, you're safe!" he cried, and the two embraced. "When we heard about Dr. Who, we feared the worst..."
"There will be a time and a place for our sorrows, General," Kaiser said, resuming a serious demeanour. She led him over to where Farnsworth and Jenkins had dismounted from a second shuttle; the rest of the group was compelled to follow. "You must use the information guarded by this gentleman to help plan the attack. It's our only hope."
"General Nikos Stavros," the officer introduced himself, shaking each of their hands in turn, "Second-in-command of this determined band of freedom-fighters." When he reached Fegelein, he hesitated.
"Hermann Fegelein," said the Obergruppenführer, unfazed, "The pilot that pulled your princess out of that imperial prison." Stavros nodded, and took his hand.
"Were you followed?"
"They bugged the ship, but I took care of it before we left."
"o that reminds me," Chris jutted in. He delved into his robes and withdrew a black box. "I saw it lying by the ramp, you must have forgotten it. I didnt have time to pick it up so i kicked it back on board, but I checked and it doesnt seem broken."
The entire hangar fell silent. Arkady made a squeak bordering on ultrasonic.
"Don't everyone thank me at once," Chris grinned coyly.
Stavros grabbed his radio. "Ready all pilots for combat."
------------------------------
Opposite the moon, the Doom Sphere propelled itself, somehow, toward the planet. The intercom buzzed in George's office, breaking him out of his fantasy of the day. After flailing about wildly, he managed to hit the speaker button. "Ey-ye-e-e-e-es?" he uttered. Lackarse stood by stoically.
"We are approaching survive2012now.com. The Resistance base is on a moon on the far side. We are preparing to navigate the website."
"Oh, Princess!" George sighed, cradling an imaginary photo, "Soon we will be reunited at last!" Lackarse considered telling him the speaker was still on, but figured it wouldn't make a difference either way.
Meanwhile, on said moon, a sentry gazed across the canopy. The sun was setting, and a mist had descended on the for—wait a minute, if the moon's on the planet's far side, shouldn't it be night already? Give me a minute to check this.
...
...
Uh oh, bananas are going spotty. Should make some muffins or something.
...
OK, no, from the shadow they were both facing the sun. Disaster averted.
Now where were we?
Just about the entire fighter corps of the base was packed into a small conference room. Standing in front of a wall-sized display screen were Princess Kaiser, Stavros, and the Resistance commander, General Gunter von Esling, as well as a couple of other Allied moderators and a handful of guards. Chris sat among the pilots, at the end of one of the rows next to a young and dashing man named Omega124, who was such a great pilot that he'd probably get a whole series of books written about his adventures. Farnsworth and Jenkins stood a little behind; the taller man noted that there were quite a few short gentlemen standing about the periphery, dressed in what looked like Soviet tank crew uniforms. Fegelein and Arkady were at the very back, watching over the proceedings.
"The battle station is heavily shielded, and carries a firepower greater than half the starfleet," von Esling described, as a three-dimensional model of the Doom Sphere appeared behind him. "Its defences are designed around a direct, large-scale assault; strange as it may sound, a small one-man fighter should be able to penetrate the outer defence." Arkady looked to Fegelein with his Idea Face, but the officer made a dismissive gesture.
"Pardon me for asking, sir," interjected one of the pilots, "But what good are stunt fighters going to be against that?"
"Well, given that the Empire has been phasing out air tactics from its rulesets, it doesn't consider a small one-man fighter to be any threat; hence the lack of a tighter defence." He stepped back as the display changed to an opening somewhere on the Doom Sphere's surface. "An analysis of the plans provided by Princess Kaiser has identified a weakness in the battle station. Due to... what can only be the result of egregiously poor planning, a small thermal exhaust port in the northern hemisphere of the starboard side leads straight to the station's main reactor. The proper ordnance delivered down the shaft will critically overload the reactor and destroy the station. But, the approach will not be easy." The model zoomed out, beginning a simulated flight along the superstructure. "You must manouevre straight down this trench, and skim the surface to this point. The target area is only two metres wide."
There was much muttering and shaking of heads at this statement. "It's a trap," scoffed Omega. "Designed by the Emporer himself precisely to trick us into a suicide run."
"Its not impossible," Chris replied, "i became the supowerpoer in multipolarity and then kicked democratic china's ass even though everyone hated me!"
"Yeah, I heard about that game," he retorted, "Didn't the GM hold your hand through the whole thing?"
Chris glared indignantly.
"...Then man your ships," von Esling finished, "And may the Farce be with you."
Onboard the Doom Sphere, George and Lackarse observed a large display screen depicting the station's progress toward its objective. "Orbiting the planet at maximum velocity," reported the intercom, "The moon with the rebel base will be in range in thirty minutes."
"THIS WILL BE A DAY LONG REMEMBERED," said Lackarse. "IT HAS SEEN THE END OF ALEC GUINNESS, AND WILL SOON SEE THE END OF THE RESISTANCE." George cast a furtive glance backward. Lackarse was acting as if he'd done all the work.
Back on the moon, "All flight crews man your stations" echoed over the intercom. Chris, Farnsworth and Jenkins rounded a corner, the boy dressed in pilot's gear. He saw Arkady and Fegelein loading large crates onto a trolley and made his way over.
"So," he began, "you got your reward and your just leaving then??"
"No pulling the wool over your eyes, is there, Sherlock?" the officer replied. "I've got some old debts to pay off with this. Even if I didn't, you don't think I'd be fool enough to stick around here, do you?" He took a moment to calculate Chris' survivability, cost-of-maintenance, and highest general value in an antic, then said, "Why don't you come with us? You're pretty good—" *snnnk* "—'scuse me—in a fight... We could use you."
Arkady looked up with a bemused smirk.
"C'mon!" said the kid, "Why dont you take a look around you know whats about to happen what they're up against!! They could use a good pilot like you your turning your back on them!!!"
"Myself, I've never seen the practicality of martyrdom. Besides, attacking that battle station isn't my idea of courage. More like suicide."
"Alright. Well take care of yourself fegelein. i guess its what you're best at isn't it!!" Chris stormed off.
"Hey, Chris," Fegelein called, and the boy spun around angrily. "May the Farce be with you."
He stood in silence for a moment, then continued down the hangar.
"You know," Arkady piped up, "You could just tell him."
"I know what I'm doing," he replied. "God knows what'd happen if he grew dependent on us." He peered across the hangar. "Hey, Arkady, that man over there; does he look familiar to you?"
The werewolf followed his gaze. "Can't say I recognize him."
"I've seen him before. Just a minute..." Arkady watched quizzically as Fegelein abruptly made off, shrugged, and returned to loading the cart.
Farnsworth finally figured out the purpose of all the short gentlemen. The Allies' fighters contained crawlspaces with controls for all the ship's components. The pilots flew, and the gentlemen worked as onboard mechanics. He could see a few being lifted into the narrow entry hatches just behind the cockpit; these were capped by small domes, presumably windows to operate the small pair of Canadarms affixed close by for external repairs. Conceptually it was a rather clever idea, but he did not envy Jenkins' aptitude for such a role.
He and Chris came upon Kaiser, accompanied by General Stavros and a group of guards. "What's wrong?" asked the princess.
"Oh, it's Fegelein," he explained. "I dont know, I really thought he'd change his mind!!"
Kaiser shook her head. "He's going to follow his own path, like it or not. No-one can choose it for him."
"I only wish Ali-G were here."
Kaiser weighed her options, then, somewhat hesitantly, leaned in and pecked Chris' cheek. He looked up, eyes widening; she quickly walked off followed by the retinue, Stavros eyeing him dubiously. Chris continued through the hangar, a dumb smile plastered on his face. Right before he walked into the laser cannon on the underside of a fighter wing, a voice made him turn around.
"So, despite all my wise counsel, you decided to join the mad crusade after all."
"Jehoshua!!!" Chris cried. A pilot resembling Machiavelli, a priest's collar visible beneath his flight suit, made his way over, clapping his arm over the boy's back in a fraternal gesture but that held just the subtlest hint of a power relationship.
Jehoshua gave a sidelong grin as he eyed Chris up and down. "We must be in dire straits indeed to have recruited you at such short notice."
"I'll be right up there with you!!" the boy beamed. "Have I got stories to tell you—!"
"New kid; christos, right?" They both turned around to face the veteran wing leader, a gold-coloured helmet held under his arm. He sauntered over, looking up at the fighter before turning back to the boy, bemused. "You sure you can handle this ship?"
Jehoshua spoke up. "Sir, I can speak from experience. christos200 has proven a valuable tool given the right handler." He flashed another wicked grin, returned by the leader.
"You'll do alright," he concluded, clapping him on the shoulder.
"I wont let you down I promise!!"
The squad leader headed down the hangar. "Well," said Jeho, "I must to my own ship. You can talk my ear off about all your escapades when we return."
"Hey Jehoshua!" Chris shouted, and he turned back. "I told you i'd make it some day!!" Jeho gave a polite smile, then quickly departed. Chris made his way over to his fighter. A flight crew was helping Jenkins into the ship's tiny auxiliary compartment. As Chris clambered up the ladder into the cockpit, a technician addressed him.
"This gentleman of yours seems a bit beat up," he remarked, "You want a new one?"
"ok."
"Hah! I'm just messin' with ya. We don't treat people like chattel! Which planet are you from? Greece?" Jenkins gave a short whistle. "Oh–!" he choked, grinning even wider. Chris scowled as he boarded the fighter.
"Gold Squadron, begin take-off procedure," announced the P.A.
"Hold on tight, Jenkins!" called Farnsworth, "You've got to come back!" His counterpart gave a little trill. "You wouldn't want my life to get boring, would you?" Jenkins chirruped, flashing what looked like a smile before he disappeared into the machinery and a transparent dome sealed atop the manhole.
Elsewhere in the hangar, the squad leader tracked down a pilot bearing an uncanny resemblance to Jonathan Goldsmith. "Parkins, you never told us you were an ace!"
"Well I—wait, what?" he asked, confounded.
"I know we'd had you on reserve, but a pilot of your calibre is exactly what we need for this offensive!"
"Ace? What?" he repeated, confused and increasingly frightened.
"I've swapped you in for Qiu; you'll be flying in my squad. See you in the air, champ!" The squad leader grinned, then made off for his own fighter, leaving a trembling Tyo.
Shuttles rolled through the hangar, pilots leaping off to board their strike craft. The P.A. said something, but I missed it. Engines revved and flight crews hastily withdrew their equipment as the pilots donned their crash helmets and sealed the cockpits. "Fifteen seconds to take-off." The air was rife with anxiety; a few straggling technicians scrambled out of the way as the ships slowly lifted off, ground navigators directing their path out of the complex.
"Chris, the Farce will be with you." Chris spun his head right to left, searching for the phantom. It sounded uncannily like Ali-G...
A melodic passage started up as the fighters left the hangar and oriented themselves skyward. The tune quickly switched to an anxious march as Kaiser, Farnsworth and an intel officer walked briskly through the communications room to a large circular interface. "Standby alert," buzzed the P.A., "Doom Sphere approaching." A display appeared, showing the planet, their base, the incoming battle station, and its firing arc. "Estimated time to firing range: 15 minutes."
The strike craft crested the planet's horizon and now had visual contact with the station. "All wings, report in," called the fighter leader.
"Red 10, standing by."
"Red 7, standing by."
"Red 3, standing by," said Jehoshua.
"Red 6, standing by," muttered Tyo.
"Red 9, standing by."
"Red 2, standing by," Omega reported.
"Red 11, standing by."
"Red 5 standing by," said Chris.
"Lock S-foils in attack position," ordered the leader, once all craft had checked in.
The wings on the fighters split open into four separate foils, each mounting a long laser cannon; this provided the origin of the ships' nickname of 'X-wing'. As the squadron approached the Doom Sphere, the craft began to shake violently. "We're passing through the magnetic field," advised Red 1, "Hold tight; switch your deflectors on, double front."
The ships were now close enough to make out some of the finer details of the station. "Damn," breathed Omega, "Is this a space station, or overflow for the Emporer's ego?"
"Cut the chatter, Red 2," scolded the wing leader; "Decelerate to attack speed." The wing banked to the right, gradually levelling off. "This is it, boys."
"Red 1, this is Gold 1," called the bomber commander.
"I copy, Gold 1."
"We're starting for the target shaft now."
"We're in position. I'm gonna cut across the axis and try to draw their fire."
The music picked up pace as the X-wings dove in. The station's gunners, now actually seeing the incoming craft with their own eyes, hastily opened fire. Despite the massive barrage, not a single shot hit as the abysmal training standard of the shock troopers was scaled proportionately to the Doom Sphere's twin laser turrets.
"Chris, trust your feelings."
Chris tapped his helmet, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't the intercom. Two fighters flew past a turret danger close before pitching up. Back in the comm room, most of the other officers had joined Kaiser around the 'map'. "Heavy fire, boss," Omega reported, "23 degrees."
"I see it; stay low!"
Omega skimmed across the surface, strafing the construct in front and sending one fire team running for cover as their cannon overheated. Chris inhaled sharply, realizing Omega had claimed first blood. "This is Red 5 im going in!!!" He made a steep dive, squeezing the trigger as he blasted the station for everything he was worth.
"christos, pull up!" shouted Jehoshua. The boy gasped, yanking back on the controls as he sailed right through the ensuing explosion. Sparks trailed from his craft as he returned to a safe altitude.
"You know that's a brand new fighter?" asked Jeho, a touch of scorn.
"I got a little cooked back there but im OK," he replied. The fighters zoomed past a now non-functional battery.
"Red 1, this is Gold 1," called the bomber commander, "We're starting our attack run."
"I copy, Gold 1, move into position." A 3-ship wing pitched forward toward the station. The craft had dart-like fuselages with twin engines that connected to the stern and trailed nearly another full length behind. The Y-like shape easily explained their nickname, 'Tuning Forks'.
Meanwhile, onboard the Doom Sphere, klaxons wailed as shock troopers ran this way and that, not entirely sure what they were supposed to be doing. One officer darted down the halls, nervously peering around corners before spying Darth Lackarse, quickly running over to him. The Dork Lord didn't break stride, and the man had to jog to keep by his side. "We count thirty Resistance ships, Lord Lackarse," he panted, "But they're so small they're evading our turbo lasers!"
Lackarse fought hard the urge to head-butt the man, reminding himself that this probably wasn't the officer in charge of gunnery training. "WE'LL HAVE TO DESTROY THEM SHIP-TO-SHIP," he surmised. "GET THE CREWS TO THEIR FIGHTERS." The officer nodded and ran off.
Red Squadron sailed through a dizzying salvo of laser blasts. "Watch yourselves!" called the leader, "There's a lot of fire coming from the right side of that deflection tower."
"I'm on it!!" shouted Chris.
"I'm going in," said Jehoshua. "Cover me, Parkins."
"Oh God," moaned Tyo.
Not waiting for Chris, the two fighters drew level with the tower, delivering a concentrated strike. The offending structure exploded, sending shockwaves through the station, soldiers flying to and fro as sections of the hall ruptured. Elsewhere, Lackarse located two Imperial pilots in gear. "SEVERAL STRIKE CRAFT HAVE BROKEN OFF FROM THE MAIN GROUP," he stated; "COME WITH ME." He turned about, and they hastily followed after him.
Looking to follow up their success, Jehoshua continued into another fire zone, only for Tyo to find himself caught in a flurry of laser fire. "Oh man, we're in spaceships!" he cried, "I knew it! He cursed me!!"
"You're fine," said Jeho, "Stay on course."
"No way, I'm getting out of here!"
"You can hold it!"
"Screw you, you bastard Papist hypocrite! I wanna li–AAAAIIEGH!! AAUUUGHH!!!" Tyo screamed as his fighter blew apart in a fiery explosion.
The Doom Sphere's progression plodded along the station's counterpart map, which quite frankly looked a grand deal less helpful than the Resistance's. "The Resistance base will be in firing range in seven minutes," reported the intercom. George paid no attention; he was seated on the floor in front of a toy table covered in plastic teacups. This in turn was ringed by stools for his CCP Heroes of the People™ action figures, two of which were currently being jostled up and down in time to his internal dialogue. "Why yes, Comrade Lon Dong! I should love another cup of tea as we celebrate the destruction of these heathen rebels! / I couldn't agree more, Comrade Phat Phuc! Truly ours is the greatest of strategies! Soon all of Europe will worship our master cult—"
Jesus, let's get back to the fighting.
Three Kite Flyers took off from a hangar. In the middle was a special model that actually looked like a ship and not some carpentry experiment; you probably surmised it was Lackarse's personal fighter. "STAY IN ATTACK FORMATION," he said, tweaking his controls.
Back at the Allied base, the intel officer stepped away from a console and adjusted his headset. "Squad leaders, we've picked up a new group of signals. Enemy fighters coming your way."
"My scope's negative I dont see anything!!" said Chris.
"Keep up your visual scanning," ordered Red 1; "Here they come!"
Sixty Kite Flyers in a neat little row descended on the X-wings. "Watch it," called Red 1, "You've got one on your tail!"
The impugned pilot desperately tried to shake him, but it looked as though these fighters might actually be worth a damn. The Kite Flyer closed in fast. "I'm hit!" he cried; seconds later the ship exploded.
"Jeho you picked one up watch it!!" Chris shouted.
He tried to spy it out of his cockpit, but to no avail. "Then make like the Lord and watch over me," he said. Jeho put his ship into a steep dive before banking hard to the right. The enemy fighter kept pace; he began zig-zagging back and forth. "He's on me tight; I can't shake him."
"First I've heard you turning down an encounter," Omega muttered off-radio.
"I'll be right there!!" Chris fell in behind the Kite Flyer. He watched the icon of the offending ship flit back and forth across his AimAssist. As Jeho and the tango levelled out, it fell within the centre of the screen and Chris squeezed the trigger; the Kite Flyer exploded.
The Allied generals circled around the display. "Pull in!" Jeho's voice crackled over the radio, "christos, pull in!"
"Watch your back, Chris," Omega joined in, "Watch your back! Fighter's above you; coming in." Panicking, the boy cast glances to the rear. The Kite Flyer quickly fell in line and opened up a salvo, one shot striking the top left engine.
"I'm hit but not bad," he reported, "Jenkins see what you can do with it." The gentleman chirped, hoisting himself to the dome and deploying a Canadarm. "Hang on back there!!"
"The exhaust port is locked and marked in," called Gold 1. The bombers dodged fire from a single surface turret as they dove into the trench, a lateral barrage opening up as they levelled out. "Switch all power to front deflector screen."
Still trailed by the Kite Flyer, Chris began swerving back and forth, narrowly dodging the fighter's shots. "Red 6," called the leader, "Do you see Red 5?"
"There's a heavy fire zone on this side," crackled Red 10, "Red 5, where are you?"
"I cant shake him!!!" he shouted, providing absolutely no help to his would-be rescuers. He dove toward the station surface, but the fighter kept on him.
"I'm on him, Chris," called Omega, spying the fighters and peeling off toward them, "Hang on!"
"Blast it Jeho where are you??" the boy muttered.
Just as the Kite Flyer lined up the shot, an X-wing assaulted head-on. The ship exploded while the Allied craft corkscrewed triumphant. "Thanks Megs," sighed Chris.
"Hey, no," Omega called, "You gotta earn that privilege."
"Good shooting, Megs," Jeho called.
Meanwhile, the twin-linked turrets continued their suppressive fire as the bombers swerved up and down the trench. "How many guns do you think, Gold 5?" asked the squad leader.
"I'd say about twenty guns," he replied, "Some on the surface, some on the towers."
"The Doom Sphere will be in range in five minutes," buzzed the intercom back on the moon base.
"Switch to targeting computer," ordered the leader, and a tracking aid deployed in front of him.
"Computer's locked," reported Gold 2, "Getting a signal..." Suddenly, the barrage ceased. "The guns; they've stopped!"
"Stabilize your rear deflectors," advised Gold 5, "Watch for enemy fighters!"
"They're coming in!" called the leader, "Three marks at 2:10!"
Lackarse and his escort flew into the trench in perfect formation. "I'LL TAKE THEM MYSELF. COVER ME."
"Yes, sir," copied a pilot.
In seconds they had caught up with the bombers and Lackarse drew a lead on Gold 2. Eschewing the typical gratuitous fanfare of Imperial forces, he squeezed the triggers and blew the ship apart. Gold 1 cast a nervous glance behind as the fighters quickly closed the distance. "It's no good! I can't manoeuvre!"
"Stay on target," ordered Gold 5.
"We're too close!"
"Stay on target,"
"Loosen up!"
But it was too late; Lackarse aimed instead for the lead bomber, it too quickly exploding under a short salvo. Gold 5 pulled out immediately, but the fighters kept right on his tail. "Gold 5 to Red 1," he stammered, and Chris glanced down below, "Lost Kyril; lost Hutch..."
"I copy, Gold 5."
"It came from behind!"
Lackarse strafed the bomber, blowing off its port engine and sending it spiralling into the station. Chris swallowed, facing forward.
"All units, this is Red 1," the leader began after a moment, "Rendez-vous at Mark 6-point-1."
Back in the comm room, von Esling nodded to one of the signals analysts before joining the officers around the display screen.
"This is Red 2," Omega's voice crackled over the radio feed, "Flying toward you."
"Red 3," copied Jehoshua, "Standing by."
Von Esling turned on his speaker channel. "Red Squadron, this is Adler. Gold Squadron is rallying at your position but we can't afford to wait. Keep half your group on reserve and make a run yourselves."
"Copy, Adler. Chris, take Red 2 and 3. Hold up here and wait for my signal to start your run." Rather than copy the order, Chris simply nodded his head.
Red 1, supported by Red 10 and 12, dove into the trench. "This is it..!" The fighters raced through the trench, dodging a heavier barrage of laser fire.
"We should be able to see it by now!" called Red 10.
Seconds later the fire ceased. "Keep your eyes open for those fighters..!" ordered the leader.
"There's too much interference," reported Red 10. "Red 5, can you see them from where you are?"
"No sign of any—WAIT!!!" Everyone, in space and the comm room, winced. "Coming in to your, uh, back left!"
"I see them." Lackarse and his escort flew into the trench.
"I'm in range," reported Red 1, activating his computer; 27 000 metres and closing rapidly. "Target's coming up... Just hold 'em off for a few seconds!"
"CLOSE UP FORMATION," ordered Lackarse.
"Almost there..." 18 000 metres and closing.
The Kite Flyers had already caught up. Lackarse opened fire on Red 12, quickly shooting him down.
"You'd better let it loose!" cried Red 10, "They're right behind me!"
"Almost there..." 9000 metres and closing.
"I can't hold 'em!"
One of Lackarse's wingmen took him out.
The computer display fell to 0 and Red 1 deployed a secondary payload. "It's away!" he called, pulling out. He sailed past an explosion that rocked the station violently, throwing personnel from all quadrants down the halls like ragdolls.
"It's a hit?!" called Red 9, while the control crew held its breath.
"Negative, negative. It didn't go in. It just impacted on the surface." Kaiser gave von Esling a forlorn look.
Chris looked down to where Lackarse's fighter was trailing Red 1. The Dork Lord opened fire, scoring a hit on the ship's engine. "Red 1 were right above you! Turn to Point... oh-5, well cover for you!!"
"Stay there!" he replied, "I just lost my starboard engine." Omega, alarmed, peered out of his canopy, searching for the squad leader. Chris's face flashed befuddlement. "Get set up for your attack run!" Lackarse opened up another salvo, but the ship was already on a collision course. Red 1 let out a piercing shout as his fighter dove into the station, exploding in a fiery blast. Chris, bug-eyed and breathing nervously, faced forward.
"Resistance base three minutes and closing," reported the station intercom.
"Jeho, Megs lets close it up," the boy's voice buzzed through the intercom. Von Esling put a hand to Kaiser's shoulder. "Were going in, were going in full throttle!! that oughta keep those fighters off our backs!!!"
"I thought I told you..." started Omega.
"christos," warned Jehoshua, "At that speed and knowing your gung-ho tactics, you probably won't pull out in time."
"thats never stopped me before!!"
"Sadly, this is true."
Da, da da, da da. da da..!
The fighters dove into the trench in the third rendition of this scene. "We will hold back far enough to cover you," said Jeho.
"My scope shows the tower, but I can't see the exhaust port!" reported Omega. "You're sure the computer can hit it?"
"Watch yourself increase speed full throttle!!" Chris barked.
"What about that tower?"
"You worry about those fighters!! Ill worry about the tower!!" Chris shook his head; what would these chumps do without his natural leadership?
The computer display on the Doom Sphere bridge showed the moon cresting survive2012now.com. "Resistance base 1 minute and closing," reported the intercom. George's tea party was interrupted by the arrival of that British officer, who had to kneel down in order to address the Grand Mopp. "We've analyshed their attack, shir," he explained quietly, "And there ish a dainjah. Shall I 'ave yoar ship shtanding boay?"
George's laughter boomed through the room. "Evacuate?" he choked, "In our moment of triumph?" He slowly shook his head left to right condescendingly. "Once we've obliterated these rebels I'm having you court-martialled!" As he turned back to his playset, the officer silently gave the order to abandon ship.
Chris leaned forward as if it would make him go faster, narrowly dodging the incoming laser blasts. "Jenkins that stabilizers borken loose again see if you cant lock it down!!" The gentleman returned to his perch at the dome, whistling as he redeployed a Canadarm. The turrets fired off one more volley before halting; Jeho and Omega looked around nervously.
"Fighers!" called Omega, "Coming in, point-three!" Chris licked his lips, fighting to maintain control of his ship. Redlining didn't seem to help as the Kite Flyers were soon upon the furthest ship. A wingman opened up, striking Omega. "I'm hit!" echoed through the comm room. "Yeah, sorry guys, I think I'm gonna have to pull out."
Jehoshua opened his mouth but Chris cut him off. "Get clear Megs you cant do anymore good back there!"
"Sorry!" he repeated, pulling out of the trench. "You moron," he muttered off-radio.
"LET HIM GO," said Lackarse, "STAY ON THE LEADER."
Jehoshua's rage quickly turned to terror as he realized his head was now on the chopping block, reflected in the evaporation of his normal airs. "Hurry, christos, they're coming in much faster this time, I can't hold them."
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
"Jenkins try and increase the power!!" the boy thundered.
DA da da DA da da
DA da da DA da da
"Hurry up, christos!" screamed Jeho, "Quick! QUICK!!"
Lackarse got a lock. He squeezed the trigger, and Jehoshua's fighter disintegrated. Back at base, the officers exchanged nervous glances. Cold sweat trickled down Chris' face.
Onboard the Doom Sphere, George was now leaping about like a maniac. "Resistance base thirty seconds and closing," reported the intercom.
"I'M ON THE LEADER," Lackarse stated.
Jenkins chirrupped into the radio as the Kite Flyers soon enough caught up. "Hang on, old sport," muttered Farnsworth. Chris fumbled with his controls before giving up and craning his neck behind the tracking display. 35 000 metres and closing. Lackarse calmly adjusted his controls as he drew in range. Chris toyed with the computer as though it would suddenly grant him a random stats bonus.
DA. DA da. DA da. DA da.
DA. DA da. DA da. DA dadlaDADLADADLA—
Suddenly, a heavenly leitmotif cut in alongside the voice of Alec Guinness. "Use the Farce, Chris!" he called. The boy lashed about right and left, searching for the ghost. "Let go!" He frowned; maybe it didn't want to possess him?
"THE FARCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE," muttered Lackarse as he watched the ship careen back and forth.
"Chris, trust me!" Alec Guinness implored. Figuring the ghost would probably kill him if he didn't comply, Chris reached over and shut off the computer.
"His computer's off," noted an intel officer. "Chris, you switched off your targeting computer. What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" he said, too quickly and too high-pitched, prompting many operators to look up, "I'm alright!" Kaiser craned her neck back to stare at the ceiling.
Hyperventilating, Chris leaned forward again, ignoring Jenkins' alarmed chirrups as Lackarse got a lock. The gentleman dove for cover as laser fire grazed the top of the fighter. Chris looked down at the flashing light on his dashboard. "I've lost Jenkins!!"
Farnsworth dragged his hands over his face. "The Doom Sphere has cleared the planet," reported the intercom, "The Doom Sphere has cleared the planet." The display showed the station's firing arc dead-centred on the moon. Farnsworth shared a knowing glance with the princess.
"Resistance base in range," reported the Doom Sphere intercom. The display switched to a topographic scan of the moon.
"Fire," cried George, "Fire! FIRE!! UNTIL NOTHING'S LEFT STANDING!!!"
"Commence primary ignition." Technicians scrambled once again as they tried to prime the überfail.
If Chris was frowning any harder, he was liable to pop a blood vessel. Lackarse, for his part, found the fighter stubbornly keeping just below his firing line. He adjusted his controls, waiting for the target to inevitably pull up or dash itself on the station. Just as planned, the fighter faded in to the centre of his reticle. "I HAVE YOU NOW." He pressed both triggers.
But rather than the Resistance fighter, Lackarse's right wingman exploded. Chris gave a nervous glance backward. "WHAT?!" thundered Lackarse, he and his surviving escord looking skyward.
"Honey, I'm home!" Fegelein's voice blazed across all channels, friend and foe alike.
The Kite Flyer pilot, facing forward, found himself careening toward the trench wall. "Look out!" he called as he corrected, striking Lackarse's wing, sending the Dork Lord spiralling into space as he lost control and smashed into the opposite wall.
The Centurion Raptor banked sharply around to rejoin the surviving Resistance wing. "You're all clear, kid," called the Obergruppenführer, "Now let's blow this thing and go home." Chris looked down and saw a button marked with a banana sticker. He pressed it, then pulled the trigger to the auxiliary ammunition. Two banana-shaped projectiles rocketed out from under him, catching on the vent entrance and tumbling down the shaft. He let out a deep breath, angling up sharply before he collided with the superstructure, banking hard to rejoin the fleet.
Onboard the station, a controller pulled a lever while another flipped switches. "Stand by," called the intercom. The Resistance wing, led by Fegelein, fled as fast as its formation would allow from the Doom Sphere. At that very moment, the Grand Mopp interrupted his rabid frenzy... where was that comical 'boing'ing noise coming from? Two crewmen took cover as a beam of pure failure blasted through the tunnel. Similar beams converged at a single point above the dish-like depression on the station's surface.
In one gigantic blast, the Doom Sphere ceased to exist.
It was a very pretty explosion. Here, I brought a metal xylophone to enhance the experience.
"Great shot with those banana bombs," called Fegelein, exchanging a low-five with Arkady, "That was one in a million!"
Chris tried and failed to blink back tears of joy. "Remember," echoed Alec Guinness, "The Farce will be with you. Always."
Elsewhere, Lackarse finally regained control of his maligned fighter, and sailed off into space...
Chris returned to a hangar full of cheering men and women. Hands slapped his back as he descended the staircase. "Chris!" called the princess, running up from under the fighter, "There you are!"
"Kaiser!!" he cried, grabbing her and spinning around.
"This the line for free hugs?" The crowd parted behind them as Fegelein jogged over. Chris ran up and hugged him too.
"I knew youd come back i just knew it!!!!"
"What, and let you get all the credit and take all the reward?" Behind him, Akardy gave a knowing smirk.
"Hey," cried Kaiser, wrapping and arm around the officer's side, "I knew there was more to you than money!"
Their revelry was interruped by the shout of "Medic!" from a technician above. "Oh no," Chris muttered.
"Oh, Jove!" cried Farnsworth as a stretcher was carefully lowered. Jenkins lay, bloody and unconscious, the broken bottom half of his slide whistle clutched in his hand. "Say something!" he choked. "You can save him, can't you?" he turned to one of the medical staff.
"We'll get to work on him right away."
"You must revive him!" He turned to Chris. "Sir, if any of my organs will help, I'll gladly donate them!"
"He'll be alright," Chris patted him on the shoulder before putting an arm around Kaiser and walking her off. Fegelein shared a sympathetic face before hurrying after them.
------------------------------
The following day, Chris sported a fresh change of clothes, a black shirt underneath a mustard yellow faux-leather vest. He beamed at Fegelein, uniform freshly polished, who rolled his eyes, trying to suppress his own smile. Arkady had even dug up an old parade jacket for the occasion. As the fanfare crescendoed, the doors parted and the three men entered a vast atrium. Standing at attention on either side was the entire base personnel. At the far end, Princess Kaiser waited in a simple yet alluring white dress; her hair had been redone, a single bread roll tied in at the back. Fegelein strode forth commandingly, Chris somewhat nervously; halfway down the aisle, Arkady made a pirouette, thrusting a peace sign in the air and shouting "¡Viva la Resistencia!"
As the heroes ascended the main stage, the assembled party turned with military precision to face forward. Chris tried to remain composed as the princess looked over them, but his nerves got the better and he hiccuped, prompting her to break a smile. Fegelein shot her a dashing grin, which she returned. General von Esling stepped up to her side, taking a medal from an aide that he then passed to Kaiser. She proceeded to drape it over Fegelein's neck; the Master of Antics gave her a wink as he straightened up. She then turned to Chris. As she waited for the medal, he gave a glance over to the gentlemen standing along the side; Farnsworth looked better than he had in years, and Jenkins had made a full recovery. The boy leaned forward and Kaiser placed the medal about his neck. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to remind himself not to declare his love for her then and there.
The delegates turned to face the assembled, Arkady muttering "At least I'm a winner on the inside." The hall burst into applause. Hey, wait, he thought, Why the hell didn't all the pilots get a medal? The indefatigable Fegelein looked over to Chris, whose chest rose and fell with the giddiness of a boy who was in the throes of the greatest day of his life. He decided not to mention that the kid's fly was undone.
—DAAAA, da, da daaaa, da
DA! dada dada dadododo
Da, DA-, dadado deee, do
dadado deee, do
DA da DA DOOO,
Da, da DA
Written and Directed by
THORVALD OF LYM
Produced by
COREL® WORDPERFECT™ 12 & PROBOARDS
Executive Producer
THORVALD OF LYM
Starring
CHRISTOS200 – HERMANN FEGELEIN – PRINCESS BERNÁDETT KAISER
GEORGE I OF CHINA
and
ALEC GUINNESS
with
C. AUBREY FARNSWORTH, Esq., JENKINS APPLEBEE, OBE, ARKADY DMITRAEV,
DAVID PROWSE, JACK PURVIS, KEVIN McNALLY,
JAMES EARL JONES
as the voice of Darth Lackarse
So there you have it! The first in what I've been told is a trilogy that will go down in the annals of fanfiction history as one of the greatest epics ever put to digital distribution. The setting's occasional foul-ups aside, this was a pretty good run, I think, so I'll join you back here for Parte the Seconde as...
Well, I'd be a terrible narrator if I gave away the story, now wouldn't I?
Until next time, may the Farce be with you.