🚀 go-pugleaf

     The bland seeming-nothingness of overly-hyped space swirled emptily
past a large window built into the side of an even larger ship currently
cruising along through the realms of faster-than-light, as large ships
have a somewhat disturbing tendency to do. The fact that there was
nothing of real interest on the other side of the window -- not to
mention the fact that standing on the other side of a window from hard
vacuum was a dumb thing -- was not lost on the man currently staring out
said window, but he didn't let a simple thing like that deter him from
watching.
     "Status?" he said, not having to turn and look to know that his
chief technologist had entered. He simply knew, by how the room felt.
     "We're close to the Pathos system, Karl. The overy-hyped baffles are
performing adequately -- they should mask the Dreadnaught's FTL signature
until we're right on top of them."
     The man chuckled coldly. "Excellent. Get Singularity and Zerina
ready. Assuming Ha'Rel has done his part, we'll soon have what we need to
punch back through to our home universe..." He looked out the window
again, at the spinning nothing. "And we'll have Alicia Devran, as
well..."

                          BLORG TREK II
                         episode twelve
                        "Distant Thunder"
                        part two of three

     "No... -No-! Left, you fool, -left-!!"
     "How's it going?" Devran queried of Ha'Veluri as she wandered up to
him. The wall in front of them was a video monitor displaying input from
one of the station's exterior cameras -- two highlighted dots were racing
around in the view, keeping Ha'Veluri's attention.
     "Badly. These pilots are... Gah! You bonehead, not -that-...way..."
Ha'Veluri blinked as the two dots collided and winked out, then slowly
slapped his forehead.
     Devran leaned forward. "Did they eject?"
     "Looks like it..." Ha'Veluri studied the displays. "Yeah. I'll send
the retrieval team out." He sighed and switched the wall screen off with
an idle flick of one clawed finger. "Our material fabrication team
managed to set us up with more planes than pilots, but these cretins seem
to be working hard on fixing that."
     "Think they'll be up to par any time soon?"
     Ha'Veluri snorted. "I doubt that, Captain. But maybe we can at least
train them to crash into enemy ships instead of each other."
     "I just hope..." Devran sighed and turned away from the dark wall
viewer. "I just hope they don't have to use that training any time soon."
     Ha'Veluri shrugged. "The war will eventually come here, too. The
best we can do is get them ready."
     "So... um..." Devran looked thoughtful for a moment. "How did this
war start, anyway?"
     "Some routine border conflict. The usual way wars start. I'm not
really clear, though -- I came in late." He grinned humorlessly at his
Captain.
     "I'd like to get access to all the information, though, if I could."
     Ha'Veluri blinked. "Going to try and fix things?" he asked, arching
a furry eyebrow skeptically.
     "Maybe I can't. But I at least want to know. And you're the one
who's friends with people in the government who'd know what's up, not
me."
     Ha'Veluri sighed, quietly. "Very well. I'll see if I can get you
access to everything."
     "Thanks... oh, there's someone here who wants to talk to you..."
Devran grinned at Ha'Veluri's puzzled expression, and tapped her comm-
badge. "You can come in now..."
     "Oh, no..." Ha'Veluri slowly facepalmed. "Not you. Anyone but
you..."
     "This is soooo cool!" enthused a short, blonde-haired girl, bounding
up to Ha'Veluri.
     "Arrgh... Lufi, how the Hell(tm) did you get here?" Ha'Veluri
complained.
     "When I heard you guys were out here, I applied for transfer
immediately!" the Soh'l Danoian pilot answered, grinning. "My C.O. didn't
give me any trouble with the transfer... actually he almost seemed happy
to see me leave..."
     "I can't imagine why..." Ha'Veluri muttered.
     "So, when do I get to fly?" Lufi enthused. "This is gonna be so
cool..."
     "Well, I'll leave you two to talk..." Devran said, grinning and
sidling out.
     "Er... um..." Ha'Veluri sighed and resisted the urge to facepalm
again. "Fly. Heh..."
     "Hey, cool! What happens if I press this button on the console
here...?" The station was suddenly rocked as all the defensive batteries
on one side fired. "Cooooool..."
     Ha'Veluri sighed and grabbed the girl by the back of her shirt,
hauling her off the ground. "No," he said, simply.
     "Geez, chill out. I knew what it was gonna do -- I was just kiddin'
around."
     "No," he repeating, letting her dangle, her feet a good foot and a
half off the floor."
     Lufi sighed. "Okay, okay. Sheesh."
     "There is -nothing- that is going to persuade me to let you into a
starfighter here," Ha'Veluri said, calmly.
     "You do realize that you just invoked Murphy, right?" Lufi replied,
grinning.
     "I... oh, -great-." Ha'Veluri plopped the pilot down again and
sighed. "Just go, already. The staff will take care of your quarters and
assignment..." <Until I can get you transferred -anywhere- else...> he
didn't add.
     "Yay!" Lufi enthused, skipping out. Ha'Veluri didn't comment, didn't
rail at the unfeeling heavens about his fate, didn't even sigh. He just
quietly walked over to the nearest wall and began beating his head
against it.

<----->

     "Finally..." Bert said, as he escorted Ami down the exit tube
connecting the _Blorg Star II_ to the outpost. "I thought we'd -never-
get any leave time."
     "So... um..." Ami tried not to look too uncertain. "What do we do
now?"
     "Heh... you really -do- need to get out more, don't you," Bert
replied, grinning. "How about lunch at the Cafe Nebulart, and a movie or
something at the video library?"
     Ami looked around at all the people, most of them off-duty military
personnel, passing by along the wide central corridor of the station, and
felt rather distinctly uncomfortable. She was out here, exposed,
essentially powerless, in this sea of non-Invid. At least back at the
bar, she had known what to do, which helped to take her mind off of that
fact. "Is the, um, Cafe private?"
     Bert blinked at her, then slowly grinned. "Well, kinda. I'm sure we
can get a private booth..." He slipped an arm around her, and guided her
along the corridor. "I've heard great things about this place. It's
supposed to have a -really- awesome view of that nebula thing everyone
keeps talking about."
     "Oh?" Ami pondered several possible reactions to the close personal
contact they were having, most of which would have been exceedingly
painful, if not outright fatal, for Bert.
     "Yeah, but the food's pretty expensive. You should probably let me
pick up the tab."
     "Fair enough..." Ami looked around again at the various people. Most
seemed to be doing nothing at all... simply hanging about as if hoping
something interesting would happen to them. She sighed, inwardly. <How
did... creatures like this ever defeat us?> she wondered.
     "You okay?" Bert queried, peering at her.
     "Er... ah... yes! Just fine, um, I was just thinking about things,
is all..."
     Bert shrugged. "If you say so... ah, here we go. Cool." He wandered
up to a small, unassuming-looking storefront with the sign 'Cafe
Nebulart' on it and grinned at the violet-haired maitre d'. "Hey, Bert
from the Blorg Star, party of two?"
     The violet-haired woman hmm'd thoughtfully to herself. "Yes... we
don't have any tables free except for two at the Window..."
     "Hey, we'll take that," Bert said, grinning.
     The woman blinked at him. "You're sure?"
     "Yup!"
     "Heh... okay, right this way..." she made a mark on a datapad and
wandered in. Bert and Ami looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.
     It was almost immediately apparent both why it was called a 'Window
table', as well as why they had been warned about sitting there. The
primary feature of the Cafe was an enormous bubble of transparasteel that
probably violated every safety regulation in existance, but looked
immensely cool and looked out at the nebula. The second floor of the cafe
extended out into the bubble, where there were three tables. The floor
was virtually transparent, and so it had the impression that those
tables, and the people at them, were simply hanging in the middle of a
starfield.
     Bert was rather un-nerved by this, but Ami just looked out at the
stars, finding the view exhilerating.
     "So... um... what'cha gonna order?" Bert queried. "Gaah, look at
these prices..." he muttered.
     "It must cost a lot to pay off the safety inspectors so that they
can keep their window..." Ami said, thoughtfully.
     "Heh... yeah." The two of them lapsed into silence for a while,
eventually speaking to a waitress who came to take their orders. "So..."
Bert said, finally, trying to start the conversation up again. "Um, why'd
you join up on this crazy ship, anyway?"
     "I just... needed to get away from home for a while..." Ami said,
smiling faintly.
     "Heh. Me, I got really drunk and woke up on board. One of those
parties, you know?"
     Ami resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, I know."
     "Heh... yeah. Y'know... you're pretty cool. You're one of the few
people on this ship that's not completely into this whole thing. You're
still... I dunno... sympathetic?"
     Ami blinked, and only barely resisted the urge to burst out
laughing. "I... see..." she managed, finally.
     "I say somethin' wrong?" Bert queried, concerned.
     "No... I'm just... surprised you were so direct," Ami said, choosing
her words carefully. "You're... pretty nice, yourself..." <...for a lower
life-form unworthy to breathe the same air that I breathe, much less eat
at the same table as me...>, she thought.
     "Heh... cool." Bert grinned and looked out at the view, trying not
to look nervous at the fact that hard vaccuum was only a meter and a half
away. "Nice view, huh?"
     "Yeah..." Ami stared at the view, trying to see through the nebula
with her enhanced senses and failing. <How I've fallen...> she thought,
slightly amused. <But I was great once, and with some followers and some
resources and power, I can be great again...> She shook her head
imperceptably, looking at the vastness of the nebula. <But where the heck
am I going to get followers or a fleet in this pocket of nowhere...>

<----->

     In another part of the station, in a rather more disreputable
establishment called the 'End of the World Bar and Grille', a rather
sleazy-looking Veluran sidled in, nervously. His fur was, in marked
contrast to other Velurans, who seemed to be almost anal-retentively
cleanly, greasy and unkempt, and his metalloplastic armor coat was worn
and faded, the clothes underneath looking as if they could really use a
wash. He made his way swiftly towards the rear of the bar and plunked
himself down at a table, ordering a cheap beer from the barmecha.
     As he tried to steady his breathing and keep from looking too
nervous, he eyed the other people in the bar cautiously, especially the
extremely large man coming... right... towards... him...
     "Hello!" exclaimed the man cheerfully, sitting down across the
table. "Is this seat taken?"
     "Er... ah..."
     "I thought not!" the man exclaimed loudly, unslinging the massive
sword made from some grey-black metal from his back and leaning it
heavily against the table. "Barman... er.. robot... er... whatever! A
flagon of your finest brew for I and my blade!"
     "Wargh," the Veluran managed, trying to sink into his chair.
Everyone else at the bar was looking at him and his new drinking
companion.
     "What have I forgotten..." the massive man said, thoughtfully. "Ah!!
I am... Starsaber! Weilder of Shadowslayer, one of the Two Swords of
Ancient Power! Guardian of Light and travelling warrior!"
     **He also has an ego the size of Beta Cygni,** the sword commented.
     "Mwurg," the Veluran commented.
     Starsaber blinked. "Is that your name?"
     "Heh... no... I'm Felix. Heh... um... can I go now?"
     "Go? Go where? You -- *You* -- I have chosen out of all this fine
establishment's happy and cheerful patrons to be my drinking companion of
the evening!"
     Felix whimpered. The "fine establishment's happy and cheerful
patrons" looked neither happy nor cheerful at this loud man who had
suddenly wandered into their midst. The barmecha was getting out the riot
control gear.
     "Hmmm... I sense danger..." Starsaber said, thoughtfully. There was
an ominous series of clicks as various other patrons expressed their
happy cheerfulness by brandishing weapons of various high caliber levels.
     "...no, really?" Felix said, from underneath the table.
     "Yes! Danger approaches!" Starsaber exclaimed, standing. Automatic
weapons fire bounced off a flaring white energy field that appeared
around him.
     "Yes, and it's because -people are shooting at you-!" Felix
exclaimed, cowering under the table.
     "What? Where?" Starsaber looked around, confused. "Oh! No! I mean
-great- danger! A powerful foe approaches this station, and I must -go-!"
With a flare of his white energy field and a dramatic pause, he turned
and strode purposefully for the back wall of the bar.
     Felix and everyone else looked at him.
     "Er..." the barmecha said.
     "There's no time to look for an airlock! I must -go-!" Starsaber
exclaimed, raising his sword high.
     **Again with the inanimate objects, yeesh,** the sword protested.
     "Poopie," Felix said, propelling himself with all haste towards the
bar exit as Starsaber brought the tip of the sword down on the outer
hull...

<----->

     "Commander Markann?" Devran queried, peering at the status board on
the command deck of the station. "What's this red flashing light
indicate?"
     Markann wandered over and blinked at it. "Ooo... explosive
decompression warning."
     "Gah... um, you're sending damage control teams down there, right?"
     "Hmmm..." Markann considered this for a while. "Yeah. Probably a
good idea." Devran facepalmed. "Just kidding -- we routed a team there as
soon as the alert showed up. Give us -some- credit, huh?"
     Devran grumbled at him, then blinked. "There's a warning..."
     "Hostile ship coming out of overly-hyped space -- it doesn't
register on the IFF system," Markann said, heading over to his command
chair. "Scan 'em."
     "Er..." said J. Random Tech. "Um... that's a big ship."
     "How big?"
     "Big."
     "Big as in *big* big, or big as in big, big, big?"
     "*Big* big, sir."
     Devran looked back and forth between them. "Huh?"
     Markann turned to her, seriously. "It's big."
     "I kind of gathered that, yes."
     "Five kilometers long, sir. Dreadnaught class," the tech called out.
"Similar to known Bwaharan designs."
     "...Morgan," Devran growled. "She's here."
     "We're being hailed..."
     Markann nodded. "On screen."
     The view-screen at the front of the room rezzed into life, showing a
rather attractive but somehow... evil red-haired man. Devran blinked at the
image. "What..."
     "Greetings," the man on the screen said, smiling coldly. "My name is
Commander Karl Morgan of the Dreadnaught _Starender_. You will surrender
to me immediately... or be destroyed."
     "Oh, poopie," Devran said. "This is going to be one of Those days,
isn't it."
     "You said it," Markann decided. "Okay... can't run away bravely.
Surrender wouldn't be smart. Um... fight?"
     Devran nodded. "Fight."
     "Right! We... we..." Markann looked around at the terrified crew on
the bridge of his station, at the tiny display of active weapons and
starfighters, then back out at the enormous Dreadnaught. "We are -so-
dead."
     "Yep."

ARE THEY SO DEAD???
IS STARSABER DEAD???
IS KARL DEAD???
IS FELIX DEAD???
DOES ANYONE EVEN REMEMBER FELIX???
IF HE DIES, DOES IT MATTER???
HOW ABOUT AMI???
BOOM!!!

Next episode: Booooooom!