pointless waste of time mag

7/31/2019 Pointless Waste of Time Mag

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Attack of the 827FT

Architecturon!By Marconi RebusThe light from Phothraxis glinted off the uneven blinds in Detective Parsic Forillians office. Hehad finished off his smokes and sat, leaning back in his chair until it gave up complaining underthe weight of his massive bulk and settled. His case file tray was full to brimming, restingprecariously on the edge of his table and threatening to topple in the way the Leaning Fortressof Cortovan did. None of its contents had been solved, not since Forillians partner had beenswallowed by the Many Toothed Bastard of Echetron.

Forillian stretched towards his desk drawer, the chair protesting and threatening to crack underhis weight. He leaned back again, exhausted and defeated, like a sumo wrestler after a fight.

Suddenly he took the chair by surprise and shimmied in his seat, making it shift just enough thatwhen he stretched he could reach the drawer.

His finger tips fumbled with the handle before sliding the drawer open to reveal a fresh bottle ofYamazaki 1984 Single Malt. It had been a gift from Goro when he and Nigel had saved somecity or other from Megalon.

Good times.

Forillian poured himself a generous glass and nestled the bottle back into his drawer. He staredat the bottle and the oily nectar spiralling in and around itself inside. He raised the glass andtoasted better times but as he brought it to his lips, Nigels old phone began to ring. Forillian

winced at the sound and struggled to stand. The chair sighed with ecstasy as Forillian rose, andthe floorboards took up the slack.

The phone wailed as Forillian shuffled over to Nigels untouched desk. He stabbed the AcceptCall button with the ferocity of a bull terrier in heat.

Mr Secombe!? came the worried voice on the other end of the phone.

No, Im sorry Mr Secombe is- well, I am his associate. What can I do for you? replied Forillian.You must come quickly. Theres a problem with Weymouth.

Where? insisted Forillian.

Weymouth. Near Bournemouth?

Ah, Bournemouth. Forillian thought back to the time he and Nigel had spent at the LeisureCentre there trying to trap Gargantuball into the Eternal Fish Bowl, with moderate success.

What seems to be the problem with Weymouth then?

Well. Its gone, replied the voice, as though surprised that Forillian was not already aware.


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What do you mean gone?

Its not there, offered the voice, getting irritated.

You mean its missing? asked Forillian, just wanting to be clear.

Yes! Affirmative. It is missing. In absentia. Cannot be found.

Im on my way, sighed Forillian, expecting the worst.

The voice said, Wait a minute, who are you?

I could ask you the very same question, smiled Forillian. He had always hoped for the chanceto say that.

Where is Nigel? demanded the voice.

Well, unfortunately Nigel is no longer with us.

Oh. Fired?

No, Forillian said. Nigel was, how to say it. Consumed.

Oh, came the quiet reply. It seemed the voice understood exactly what that meant.

Forillian wrote down the address where the voice was staying, who turned out to be calledAshley, and took the first available Transpozicronitron to the Milky Way. Infuriatingly forForillian, it stopped near Saturn for no apparent reason whatsoever. Forillian looked at hiswatch, before realising that the symbols on it would make absolutely no sense on Earth, and

hed left his Seiko in his bedside table. He grumbled, but as he did so, the Transpozicronitrontook off once again.

***

Forillian found Ashley standing outside her hostel in the elongated streak of piss that wasColdharbour. That, it seemed, was as far as Forillian could go, for as Ashley had informed him,Weymouth was indeed gone. Ashley drove him to the newly formed and more northerly thanusual shoreline.

Here it is, Ashley said, as she locked the car.

Or isnt, replied Forillian as he stared out over the English Channel.

Then, an almost incomprehensible roar started reverberating from the sea, relatively quiet atfirst, but Forillian could tell there was a lot of weight behind it, and it would be getting awfullyloud awfully quickly. Forillian stood his ground and watched as an unfathomably large dome ofwater started to breach the surface. The waterline broke and a building burst through, sendinga spray of water hundreds of feet wide towards them.


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Ashley promptly unlocked the car and got back in. The building rose high into the air, and higherstill, and was soon following by another, this one on its side and smashed into yet morebuildings. Soon there were hundreds of buildings emerging from the water, all somehow fusedtogether to become one large singular behemoth of office units, residential homes, tower blocks,everything.

Without an appropriate range of expletives to cover such a monstrosity of creation, Forilliansimply gulped as he realised that these buildings had somehow conjoined to become a vaguelyperson-shaped creature of excrement-inducing terror. The roofs of garage forecourts werenestled in eye sockets formed by two stadiums, one arm seemed to be made up entirely of cul-de-sacs, and the right side of its torso incorporated what had been the Weymouth CBD.

The Architecturon, as Forillian quietly decided he would christen it if he ever survived thisnonsense, stood to its full height, megalitres of water still pouring off what could only bedescribed as limbs. Suddenly a rumble came from deep within it as it prepared to dosomething. The bellow came so painfully cacophonous that Forillian almost didnt make out theword.

SPEAK.

Forillian gaped up at the man-shaped collage of building-dread, squinting from the water thatcontinued to fall. Then he realised that save for Ashley in the car, no one else was around. The

Architecturon was speaking to him. Of course it was.

Forillian turned around to the car and cupped his hands to his mouth so that Ashley would hearhim.

You wouldnt happen to have a megaphone on you, would you?


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Gunner Phoenix:Intergalactic Champion!

By Fitzgerald Smith

The two circled each other in the ring. On one side was a bear-like creature, standing a good 8-feet and weighing in at just over 500 pounds. Its hands could palm a mans skull and crush itimmediately. Its snout stretched inches away from its face, revealing vicious fangs and a never-ending supply of drool. The beast growled and snarled and barked at its opponent, daring him tocome within arms reach.

But its opponent was not as foolish as he appeared. The man wore a purple spandex shirt thatstopped just short of his impressive forearms. The shirt with the letters MS emblazoned ingold over the mans massive chest was something of an anomaly; impossibly small,

impossibly tight and breaking the laws of physics in order to show off the mass of muscle thatwas this man. His bleached blond hair nearly matched his white wrestling briefs. His skin wastanner than it shouldve been, which only served to make his pearly white teeth even brighter.He was Maverick Striker Intergalactic Champion of the Universal Wrestling Federation,and he was defending his title in front of a crowd of 500,000 beings that came from across theentirety of space and time to see this match.

The two continued to circle each other, when suddenly Striker shot for the beasts legs. As thickas tree trunks, Striker could only grab hold of one leg and he immediately attempted to power liftthe brute over his head. It wouldnt budge, and Striker felt himself smacked into the turnbuckleof the ring. The beast was immediately upon him, placing its foot on his chest and pressingdown pressing the air out of his lungs. Striker through a well-placed jab hard at the soft spot

behind the beasts knee, and it relented. The handsome champion quickly sling-shotted himselfoff the top rope and clotheslined his opponent to the ground. The arena erupted into a madfrenzy. Cheers boomed from the massive crowd, shaking the building. Striker immediately wentfor the pin, only making a two-count before the beast threw the champion into the air and out ofthe ring. Standing to its full height and bearing a frightening look upon its face, the brute leapedout of the ring, attempting to cannonball Striker to his doom. The champ maneuvered quickly,and the beast landed hard on the ground, cratering the floor. As his opponent lay in agony,Striker climbed into the ring and to the top of the turnbuckle. The crowd erupted again, knowingwhat was next. Raising both arms and pointing upward, Striker jumped and landed a flying


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elbow square on the beasts chest. Rolling back into the ring, Striker awaited the refs 10-countand raised his arms in victory. The ring girl brought him his large, gold championship belt,kissed him on the cheek and gave him a wink. He never got tired of the feeling of victory orthe ring girls he would bed the evening after one. The crowd gave him a standing ovation.

Another opponent vanquished, another check in W column.

Just then, the arena shook. Not from the cheering, though. No, this was different -- more violent.Explosions erupted amongst the now-screaming crowd and the roof was ripped open. Amassive vehicle with three tentacle like legs moved into the arena and immediately snatchedthe ring girl away. Striker looked on in anger and spotted the vehicles operator. It was hisnemesis: Master Fiend the Destructor. He was from a race of crimson colored aliens knownas Phants. Everything about the Phants was frail. Their frames were sickly and their limbs werenoodly. Their bulbous heads often threw them off balance, requiring them to find suitablemethods of transportation. Fiends was his tripodded vehicle, indestructible and capable ofreaching heights that rivaled giants.

Master Fiend, you fiend!

Thought you were rid of me for good, did you? the Phant screamed back. He laughedmaniacally. His trap was set, he had the bait, and now he knew he would defeat his long-timerival for good. Today, victory will be mine!

The champion gritted his teeth. Up, Shirley! he yelled to the beast. Its time to rid the galaxy ofthis fool once and for all.

With that, Striker ripped his wrestling costume in two to reveal a pink spandex shirt with GPemblazoned in yellow on the chest. Indeed, Maverick Striker was the alter-ego ofGunnerPhoenix Intergalactic Champion, the hero of the galaxy who was always first on the frontlineto defeat evil. With his trusty sidekick, Shirley, he was nigh unstoppable. The once-felled beast

jumped up immediately, the frightening look still upon her face. She let out a ferocious roar at

Fiend, and he took off through the hole he had just made.

The two immediately took to the steps of the arena, attempting to find the closest exit. It wasntlong before they were set upon by Fiends henchmen. Some bore blaster rifles, othersattempted to grapple with the duo -- those that did found themselves flying through the airtowards the shooters. With the grapplers subdued, a few shooters remained. Pinned down,Phoenix looked around him.

Damn, were in a tight spot, Phoenix muttered. Hey, Shirley, how about a little help here? hecalled to his partner.Shirley immediately began ripping chairs from the ground and hurling them in every direction.The chairs managed to knock out all but one shooter, who was well fortified behind a snack bar.

Still pinned down, Phoenix desperately looked around for a solution. How could he get himselfand his partner out of this predicament and teach Master Fiend a lesson once and for all?

Will Gunner Phoenix recover the ring girl? Or will he fall victim to Master Fiends elaborate trap?Will Master Fiend finally rid the galaxy of his most hated foe? Will Shirley ever find love in thesuperficial confines of Outer Space? Find out in the next issue ofPointless Waste of Time!


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Space Captain DuncanFlight, R.S.N. in the Planet

of Death!By Tyburn

Space Captain Duncan Flight steadied himself as he and his companion, the ever-charismaticDoctor Marcus Burkenhare materialised in the main reception area of the Centre for DiseaseControl, Prevention and Cure on planet Malaria. The outpost had been silent for several days,so he and his crew were dispatched with all due speed to investigate.

As the haze of the matter-transporter beam faded, Flight switched on his hazard suit's headlight,sweeping the beam over the darkness. The power generators had cut out, that much wasobvious. Raising his left hand, he activated his communicator.


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We're down safe, he reported back to the ship. Looks like the housekeeper packed bags andleft.It's a right rotten state, I'll say that much. The Doctor looked round, scanning with his medicalsci-corder. Traces of pretty much every virus, bacteria and microbe you can think of. Can seewhy they put the outpost here old Dear.Flight nodded, drawing his lazer-Webley. Marcus was the only person ever allowed to call Flight

that, and he wouldn't have it any other way. The two had been close comrades for some yearsnow, the staunch professionalism of Captain Flight a calming counter-measure to doctorBurkenhare's more capricious nature. See if you can find the generators.

The generators, as it turned out, had been sabotaged, their wiry entrails torn out and spillinghalfway across the generator room floor. But with a little work, some of Space Captain Flight'sfamed ingenuity and a couple of well-placed kicks from the Doctor, they sputtered into life,coughing and wheezing erratically as the lights flickered, then glowed.Still nothing larger than a bacterium showing up on the old box, Burkenhare shook his sci-corder a moment, flicked a couple of switches and swept again.Try again. There were a hundred souls here, there must be some trace. Flight frowned.

Moving back into the main reception area, the two Royal Space Navy officers decided tointerrogate the Centre's main computer via the terminal on the large desk. Powering it up,Captain Flight looked at the swivel chair behind it. The seat was covered in the same greenpowdery residue that covered much of the rest of the place. With a disgusted look, he nudgedthe chair to one side and crouched in front of the computer screen.Computer, request location of all surviving staff members, starting with chief epidimiologistBrian Sturgeon.The computer whirred and clicked. Unable to process request. Data incomplete or invalid.Let me try old Dear, Burkenhare shooed Captain Flight aside, standing in front of thecomputer. Computer, where is Professor Sturgeon?Professor Sturgeon is in the main laboratory area.Marcus smiled. See? You just need to know what to ask.

Entering the laboratories, Captain Flight and Doctor Burkenhare came across a scene of totaldesolation. Tables had been upturned, thousands of pounds worth of precious instrumentationscattered and strewn across the floor, and worse all the teacups had been broken. Flightgasped. My God!Doctor Burkenhare choked back a tear. Oh the humanity!Come on Marcus, we need to find out what happened.Without warning, an explosion of movement came from behind one of the tables. Two undeadmonstrosities, mobile cadavers with jellified flesh clinging to their bones in rotted strings lurchedforward, clawed hands outstretched. BRAIIIINS! One of them bellowed.Without pause for thought, Marcus drew his lazer-Webley and fired. The beam lanced throughthe air, punching a hole through the screaming creature's forehead. The other beast stopped

dead in it's tracks, an expression which could only be described as surprise etched on it's failingfeatures.Bloody hell! It said. You shot Simon! It looked down at the de-animated re-animated corpse.Mind you, bloody good shot though.

After a few moments to settle their nerves, the question of an explanation reared its head. Thestill-standing undead creature righted one of the tables, dusted it off and gestured at the twoSpace Navy officers to sit, which they did. Sorry about that. It was Simon's idea of a practical

joke. We've not had visitors here since... well, since this happened.


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Is that you Brian?In the flesh, what there is of it.What exactly happened?Funny thing, this place. There are so many disease pathogens in the atmosphere, we justdidn't stand a chance. Once we'd run out of toilet roll, things sort of went downhill quite quickly.Within a month we were all dead.

...and yet here you are, telling us this... Marcus was staring intently at the screen of his sci-corder, trying to make sense of the readings.Exactly. Every last man-Jack of us died, then we all... sort of got better. Must say, it was a bit ofa relief really. We were never happy here when we were alive, but at least now we don't have todeal with crippling diarrhoea for breakfast, dysentery for lunch and a case of beri-beri forelevenses. I've not had to... you know... spend a penny for nearly a month now. He smiled.Only thing is, we've completely run out of tea. You wouldn't happen to have any going sparewould you?Is that why the place looks like a bomb's hit it?Yes, I'm sorry about that. Tend to get a bit crotchety when I've not had a morning brew.Flight opened his communicator. Flight to Victory II. We've found the crew. They're all dead, butthey're ok. Beam down a case of tea from the stores and... he glanced at the broken crockery,

some cups.

After a nice hot cuppa, Captain Flight and Doctor Burkenhare made their excuses and left.Swirling the dregs round in his cup, Brian settled down in his chair with a contented smile.My head hurts. A voice from the ground spoke. Brian looked down.Oh shut up Simon.


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In the Garden of EdenBy short_circus

Wendell was asleep. Space travel has always made him sleepy.

But Wendell was a light sleeper. Any strange noise would wake him up, and the sounds ofblasts detonating against the hull of the ship and resonating through the hollow cargo holdswere very strange, indeed. In a flash Wendell was on his feet and heading to the bridge.Strap in kid! The Pilot said. Heywood was an old salt and a rough customer, running deepspace freighters all his life. Hed seen his fair share of scrapes, and if anyone could squeezethem through this, itd be Heywood.Wendell strapped into the secondary console and watched. Heywood was a master of his ship,and even though she was pretty much an old barge, she was still solidly built and hard to stop at

full throttle.Damn pirates! Heywood growled. Snuck up when I wasnt looking, tossing plasma bombs atus He was furiously working his console when the warning began flashing.

Collision imminent, take evasive maneuversthe computer buzzed. Then came the deep,sickening thud, and the pair knew they were about to be boarded.

Arm yourself, lad! Heywood barked, grabbing an emitter rifle from arms locker on the rear wall.Wendell likewise grabbed a rifle, and strapped a disruptor pistol around his waist. Heywoodflipped a switch sealing all the doors in the hold, and he and Wendell took up defensivepositions.

Down here! the pirate yelled to his cohorts in the boarding party. Hed spotted the open hatchonto the bridge, but didnt see Heywood taking aim. The blast found its mark, but there was nohiding from the rest of the alerted and now very angry pirates.

Blasts flashed through the doorway as invaders tried to lay down enough cover fire to keep theduo ducking long enough to enter the bridge, but Wendell managed to squeeze off enoughrounds to keep them from advancing through the doorway.

With a shout, one of the pirates made a break for the door, interrupting his comrades firing.Wendell and Heywood both let loose a fury of blasts, catching him and the rest of this groupingin the hail of searing hot plasma bolts, and the first wave was down.

Were not out of this yet, Heywood stated, and the rumblings of the rest of the boarding partycould be heard rushing to the aid of their fallen. Better make sure were charged up, this nextpart could get a little hairy.

Wendell switched on the gauge for a quick look at where he stood on blast energy whileHeywood slammed a button on the console for the door. But before it closed, a very well placedstun grenade landed on the floor between them.

Bam!


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Wendells eyes stung a little, and he gradually became aware of consciousness. And the factthat he was staring up a boot. High heeled, thigh high, and worn by a most unusually beautifulpirate. He decided right then, he must still be knocked out.

Heywood, however, decided they were in worse trouble than they thought. Kid, he said, Meet

Eden, my ex-wife.

No introductions needed she quipped, leaning down to get a better look. Hey! Hes kindacute!Wendell tried to make it back to his feet but was groggy from the grenade. Dont try anythingfunny, hot stuff, or these guys with the guns will literally turn you into hot stuff, if you get whatIm implying. She grinned as she said that, and somehow when she said it, it didnt sound bad.Get to the point, what do you want? Heywood snapped.

Always the charmer, Eden cooed. You know what I want.

The pirate captain entered just then, and scowled at Heywood with a look that said hed be aslikely to toss him out an airlock as invite him to dinner. You know him?? the captain grabbedher arm. How do you know him??Calm down, he and I have long since despised each other she smiled, still looking atHeywood. Two comets, passing in the void

The pirate captain jumped between Heywood who was still on the floor, and the seductress. Ithink you picked this freighter on purpose, he hissed. You had him in mind all along! Hewheeled around to look at Heywood.

Wendell had, by this time, made it to his feet and stood there slack jawed at the drama unfolding

before him. The pirate henchmen had also shifted their attention to the others, letting theirweapons fall prone.

Nonsense, darling Eden purred, grabbing the pirate captain, wrapping herself around him.Silence!he roared. You think I dont know you by now, after all this time?? He was staringdown at Heywood now, his face growing redder by the second. He shrugged her from hisshoulders. And for you, well, I will have to teach you a lesson! I will have-

The crack of the pistol on the pirate captains head cut him off in mid threat, and as he fell,Heywood looked up at Eden.

Wow that worked much better than I expected it to, actually Edie grinned.

Wendell and the henchmen just sort of exchanged puzzled glances and shrugs with each other.

Eden turned to the pirates with Wendell and said Could you darlings collect our leader and helphim to the ship? With no one to tell them otherwise, they followed the command.

He was right, Eden cooed as Heywood made it off the floor. I knewit was yourship, and Iwanted to give you a warning. Stay out of this sector. It, and everything in it, is mine. This is


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your one free pass, Heywood my sweet. If you come back, you will die. She grinned again andbatted her lashes one last time. Bye!

She turned and strutted out of the room.

As they watched her walk back down the corridor, Wendell looked at Heywood.

Does she have a sister?

Heywood cradled his forehead in his hand and sighed.

Time and TideBy Mark M.

It is confirmed, Mr. President. the head of the Earth Security Forces said, ashen faced. Thealien's main fleet will be here in 6 months, and we have nothing that can stop them. As youhave seen, their technology is so far beyond our own that we have no chance.

The president said nothing, just carried on looking at the screens that showed the aftermath ofthe alien's vanguard attack ships. The world's military had done their valiant best, to no avail.Smoking craters where the world's major cities had been, the inevitable survivors, the unluckyones, slowly fleeing the destruction of their universe. The radio was a babble of pleas andaccusations from around the globe. He cleared his throat.

How many in the main fleet?

300 ships minimum, Sir. Tracking thinks there may be more, but we can't get a clear reading.300. And yet just two ships had crippled Earth's production and economy. He slumped. A softcough from behind him brought him back to himself. He turned to face Dr. Heimdahl, the headof Directed Research as he said, Sir, there might just be a way. We have readings on their

weapons, and estimate needing at least thirty years to get our technology to a level where wecan fight back successfully.

But there is less than 6 months!

There is always Project Shield.

The president frowned for a moment. That was banned for being too dangerous, wasn't it?


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What, Dr. Heimdahl gestured at the screens do we have to lose?

The president straightened. Do it.* * *

A tap on the door caused Dr. Carter to throw down his pen in disgust. Another problem to dealwith, probably. Chen Tzien squeezed his massive bulk through the doorway, a broad smile on

his normally stern face. We did it John! The Hawking beam's overheating problem is nowsolved, completely. The factory is gearing up to turn them out now.Carter smiled and picked up his pen again. People laughed at him for using such a quaint wayof designing, until they realised the sheer volume of innovative and new technologies thatpoured from the keen mind through that pen and into being. Some good news for once!

Indeed. The engineer poured himself a mug of scarce coffee and added casually And itseems young Lewis has worked the bugs out of that stasis field that was on your wish list. Nottotally, but the field will now last long enough, at 99% reliability. He looked around the officewith approval. The warm wooden walls, the rugs, the crossed foils and two paintings of John'sbeloved Fredricksburg, all gave no clue that the whole complex, by now a bustling city of ahundred thousand people, was over a mile underground.

Carter dropped his pen again and swung around to gaze incredulously at his colleague. Thatmeans

Yes, precisely. Chen's grin got even broader. We can go home. Carter dug in his desk for amoment, emerging triumphant with a bottle of genuine Kentucky bourbon. Grab a glass. Wecelebrate. he paused Pity old Heimdahl isn't here to see this. One drink, then we activatestage 2.

* * *The president had aged visibly in the 5 months since the first attack. Dealing with the riots, thepanic, the displaced and the dead, all had taken its toll. Watching the alien fleet sweeping evercloser abraded his nerves like a refined form of the ancient water torture. The knowledge that he

had sent a hundred thousand men and women on a certain suicide mission, with only one wayto get in touch and no way to be sure of success cost him what little sleep he was able tosnatch. He gazed listlessly out of the window at the rain drenched garden, the last wordsHeimdahl said to him before leaving running through his mind.

Shield is one way. We can travel into the past, but those men and women will remain there. Aseed group, should our Earth die. Should we win, they must die to keep the time stream intactand prevent paradoxes.A suicide run, in other words.

The sound of hasty footsteps in the corridor, followed by a low muttering with the guard. Thedoor opened silently and Jones, the new head of DR, rushed in.

We opened the cave exactly where instructed, over the objections of the French, he gasped,crates and crates of etched metal plates, all the records of Project Shield, with this platecarefully balanced on top. And some silvery dome thing that we thought better not to touch. Hedropped the gold plate on the desk with a dull thud.

Emblazoned across it in large letters was the phrase Total success. Evacuate the Antarcticstations. The stasis field will collapse within the month. The person within has importantinformation. For the first time in months, the President felt a smile on his face as he gave theorder.


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* * *Staff Sergeant Richard Estivez was disoriented. 25 minutes ago, he had done the final checkson the 500 person crew of flagship 2, unofficially known as Rancor. Outside the ship, thehanger's polished stone gleamed, brightened with murals to cheer the crews and make themforget they lived underground. He had set the timer on the stasis field as instructed and leanedback, then, with a jerk, was suddenly looking out on a dusty, time battered cave, the cheery

murals long gone to dust and rubble. He glanced sideways at Hodges, the navigator, who waslooking distinctly green.

Remind me never to volunteer for time travel again.

You and me both, Sarge.

A cough from the captain's seat behind him. Estivez, get us out of this cave and into the air. Wehave things to kill.

To be continued...!!

The Alien!By Arthur C. Wibblewobble

We were few, the scouts of the fleet.

The Bureau of Exploitation Fleet of Eternal Conquest - more than 10,000 ships strong, themightiest armada ever assembled - was now following some 100 light years behind us, we in


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our scoutcraft flitting hither and thither, sniffing out planets to be assimilated into the Empire.They were awaiting our signal, waiting for us to detect a planet for the fleet to attack.

It was a task entrusted to just a few battle-proven Captains and crew.

Initial signals from the latest target were promising; a perfect atmospheric mix, methane and

oxygen levels showing plenty of life to be exploited.

We slotted into orbit and started scanning for defences: Nothing, not even a passive spaceminenetwork.

"This could be the planet," observed our Captain, " the one to make all of us elegible donors forthe Empire Breeding Program for the next thousand years!"

The crew lustily replied with the time-honoured response; "PHWOAR!"

"ALERT, ALERT!" the ship's automated Detectotron module noisily announced, "UNKNOWNSPACECRAFT APPROACHING".

The Captain winced at the sheer volume of the Detectotron's warning.

"On screen" he said, remaining calm.

"At once Sir" I said, promptly pulling the ropes to draw back the screen curtains, revealing theforward Videographic Displayatron.

"Hah! Look at that piece ofXanquon crap!" roared the Captain, gesturing dismissively at thescreen.

It did indeed show a sorry-looking spacecraft; a rough wedge-shape, studded with rivets and

crudely decorated, a stark contrast to our sleek craft, adorned like all scoutships since timeimmemorial with vast external murals of space kittenoids.

"SINGLE LIFE SIGN DETECTED!" blasted the Detectotron, the noise causing the screen'scurtains to waft gently, "PERMISSION TO TRANSPORT THE ALIEN LIFEFORM TO ALIENMIND-READING DEVICE!"

The Captain sighed wearily, "Make it so."

The alien pilot shimmered into being in the Mind-Reader's holding tank.

It was a curious looking lifeform; bipedal, massively hairy, the head segment studded with sense

organs.

"That's one ugly looking creature," remarked the Captain, "I've swabbed better lookingflag'nthrugcrystals out of a Space Turdulon Dispenser. Read the creature's mind."

Turning the massive crank handle on the side of the Mind-Reader, and tweaking the gentlyglowing knobs on it's dashboard, I tuned into the alien's thoughts.

"Hah!" I gasped, "It's primitive! Even too primitive to have manufactured its spaceship!"


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"Oh?" queried the Captain, suddenly alert, "Just who did make this craft?"

I re-tweaked the device controls to send a question to the being, in simplified thoughtshapes itcould understand;

"Who are your Masters?"

At once the Reader's display was overwhelmed with signals from the being's brain,thoughtforms describing the creature's Masters:

Mighty, Powerful, Provider, Godlike, Omnipotent, Unbeatable.

"If such powerful beings can afford to waste spacecraft on a primitive like this, imagine whattheirown ships are like!" I gasped in awe.

"Too frarkin right!" gulped the Captain, "Leave orbit now before the alien's masters detect us!We must never return!"

"What shall we do with the alien, Sir?" I asked.

"Return it to it's craft, Hopefully we will remain undetected."

"Yes sir." I turned to the alien, "Farewell, alien being," I said softly, cranking the wheel to initiatethe transporter device, "Remember us fondly."


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"Ook," it replied.

Nails Manly VS. TheSpace-Ant Swarm!

By Warren Tilson

I don't understand how the Swarm followed us through the Prolitrium Asteroid Field! SpatEnsign third-class Fraser "Fiddles" MacAdam "I sterred this ship as close ta the distortion fieldsas I could Capn, tere tis no way they coulda kept arr signal though that!"

"I know. And that proves one thing, we have a turn-coat aboard the Fist of Justice!" Said Manly,his quortonium-green eyes narrowed in anger.


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"Who could it be, Nails?" asked Ysomine. 'Everybody on board has been in peril a dozen timeseach from this space-swarm. Any of us could have died numerous times."

Yes, it seems that way. I think I know who it is, but I need you to prove it.

You mean using my Kffix mind-skills I was forced to learn on Ternocium V before you rescuedme from the clutches of Malavert Singh and his Harem of Evil? She said, resigned. I hateusing them, for it always reminds me of the life I had before I met you and the crew of the Fist ofJustice!

This I know is true, Yssy but I cannot accuse a person based on a hunch and there is no timefor a proper investigation. I hate asking you, but events are critical.

They always seem to be; on this ship, anyway. She said with a half-smile.

Thats my girl!

Down on Deck 3, Level 2A, Blister-gun pod Delta another drama was unfolding.

Swarm Master Ikkkktckckckck, I think Manly is on to me! A tinny voice screeched. Hell findme out and make me space-walk without a spacesuit!

Quiet! You chitin-less meat-fool! said the alien homing and translation device held in a sweatypalm We will arrive and colonize the Fist of Justice in one of your human-hours!

Yes, Swarm Master but what hour, exactly, will that be? Your species alien time reckoning isvastly different from ours...

I mean in one hour from now using your primitive chronographs. You witless protein heap! At

1326 hours we will attack the Fist of Justice!

But Master, Manlys gunners are the best, youll never get close enough! gasped thefrightened voice.

You quivering, stupid mass of sweet, sweet, juicy flesh do you not see that is why wemaneuvered him into the Prolitrium Asteroid Field. His vaunted gunners are useless here!

OH! I see! Our plan is diabolical! the voice said confidently. Do you need me to open a hatchor... ?

NO! Even a creamy-copper-fragranced blood-filled sack of idiocy like you should not need to be

reminded that Space-Ants can chew through even the Vandamtium that makes up the hull ofthe Fist of Justice! We just need to get close!

Yes, Master...OH! someone is coming! I must sign off! Agent Feast of Justice...out!

Hi Xenohospes Hapence, just lounging around on a gun deck? Yssy asked innocently.

Ah, yes Miss Mondrigallistan, its always strangely deserted before a big battle.


19/46

I like it down here too, when its empty. I like the hum of the byrntillyum micro-reactors whenthe guns are in stand-by mode.

Yes? asked Hapence who had never noticed the humming. But now he found himselfdistracted from his thoughts by both the humming and by Ysomine, who inexplicably was

wearing her harem-dancers flame-wrap just before a fight to the death against an implacablefoe.

May I call you Fothingay?

What? He was offended by such as her using his given name but it didnt matter now andmaybe with the swarm approaching she was looking for some comforting. Oh, by all means.he said putting his arm around her shoulders.

Do you know that I am a Emerald-Level Kffix Mistress? Do you know what that means?Hapence had a dim idea. Some sort of seduction technique, right? He leered.

Sort of but not quite. Simplified It means I can tell what a male is really thinking and planning if Ican distract him and get him to willingly touch me....

Hapences left arm closed around her neck in an instant as his right hand found his hold-outNubb gun in its armpit holster. Well little dancing girl youll not live to tell any...

Youve already told me everything I need to know, Hapence!

Manly!

Thats right, Ive suspected you from the beginning. The near miss at Ouffouts Rock, yourmistaken mistranslation of the Weepinslillth Runes on Banitta III, and you were the only one

not affected by the space-formic acid fumes in the Xerestos Quadrant attack! I just neededproof!

It will do you no good, Manly! My friends will be here he looked at his chrono Just about now!And then your reign of terror against the Xenosian Dimension will end forever!

A loud crash echoed through the Fist of Justice. The Space-Ants were attacking.

Theres nothing you can do Manly! Your guns are useless! Hapence chortled.

Not quite, traitor. For we are in The Blood Pinnacle, the Prolitrium Asteroid Field effects areweaker here, I just needed them to get close and turn off their shields. Which they did. Gunners,

battle stations and fire at will!

Dozens of gunners then sprinted onto all the gun decks eager to destroy the enemy.

What! No! Hapence cried out. Well, I do have one bargaining chip left, her life for mine!

The giant head of a space-ant crashed through the hull and into the gundeck sucking the air andanything not fixed down in the deck violently out into space, Ysomine used the distraction totwirl and plant a kick to Hapences gut forcefull enough to break his shoes magna-soles


20/46

connection with the deck and sending him screaming into the gaping, hungry maw of thecarnivorous swarm-soldier.

In moments the fight was over, up close against blister-guns the Space-Ants had no chance.

Capn, ta main Swarm ship skedaddled!

No matter MacAdam, we have the advantage! said Manly, No more running, now we are thehunters!

Why did he do it? Asked Yssy.

As my grandma once said, a Xenohospes always goes buggy, chuckled Manly.


21/46

Your Basic Fate Worse

Than DeathBy Mr. BittermanOnce upon a time, I dreamed about being the beautiful princess being rescued by a dashingspaceman. The odds of me skylarking in space are slim, what with me slinging hash, butsometimes while serving some slob the Blue Plate special, Ill dream about romance under alienskies.

Im home one night cooling my rockets after Stanleythat lousestands me up because hismothers got a head cold. Im contemplating my poor choices in men, flipping channels on thetwonky when I get this call from Dialing For Dollars. If I name the founder of the Galactic Patrol,I win an all-expense paid tour of the Milky Way. I guessed Virgil Samms. You could have

knocked me over with a tribble when they said I won. Mel didnt want to okay my vacationyouknow Melbut the next thing I know, Flo, Vera, and Alice were tearfully waving bon voyagefrom the gantry.

The tour covered everything, even my wardrobe. All original creations by Msieur Roboto, myautomated major domo and personal designer. However, future fashion looks a lot like beingnaked. For women, not for men. I want something silky and sheer for dinner at the captainstable. He whips up a bodysuit in yellow cellophane that gave new meaning to the phrase dinnerwith a view. And that was one of his more modest numbers. For our stopover on Pluto, I get anitsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny yellow polka dot bikini, red boots and gloves. Plutos temperature is -230C. A girl can catch cold that way. No domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.

Now Im no prude, but I prefer to leave some things to the imagination. At least until I get a ring,and Im not talking about Saturn. I wear my street clothes over and over until Roboto shorts outin a puddle of his own tears. Then were attacked.

One minute Im playing shuffleboard on the promenade deck, the next Im court slave to Mingthe Merciless. I went all the way to Mongo to sling more hash. Worse, whether theyre lizardmen, hawk men, or lion men, theyre all lousy tippers. Underdressed even by Minskysstandards, I still cant squeeze a sou from these leering creeps.

A party crasher named Gully Foyle says I look like a girl he met at Burning Man. Im not hep tohis lingo, but we jaunt to this wrecked spaceship that smells like a gym. The stars seemed to beour destination, but hes moody, has an abandonment complex, and I dont find his tattoos

attractive. Plus he wants me to serve dinner, and Im on vacation. I sneak out the bathroomwindow and look for a taxi stand.

I get picked up for vagrancy (but not public indecency, because this is the future) and thrown ona prison transport ship. Theres me, a 50 foot tall woman with a drinking problem, and a bunchof hard eyed cat women from the moon. The flight to Chthon was a blast. I heard some amazingstories about how Flash Gordon earned his nickname.


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Were attacked, the ships hull is punctured, and our space survival suits consist of goldfishbowls, thongs, pasties, and platform soled boots. Is a plastic raincoat too much for a girl to askto brave the hard vacuum of space? The other girls don their outfits with no complaints, a gamecrowd if ever there was one, but I hide in the closet instead.

I wake up chained to a table while a bug eyed-monster slavers over me, its tendrils undulating

suggestively. I dont speak the language, but Im certain its not asking me to take him to myleader. Before anything untoward can happen, the BEMs ship is boarded by the Space Patrol.Unhand her, you fiend! shouts the cadet leader, and he lets the slime ball have it, splatteringme with ravenous bugblatter beast flavored jello. Im shivering, not from shock, but because itscold. Evidently central heating is a lost technology in the future. The men are perfectlycomfortable, wearing tunics, trousers, boots, and jackets. Me, I dont rate a hand towel.

They tell me I cant return to Earth right away. Fine with me. Maybe its being so far from home,the smell of ozone, or the glamour of the atom-o-lights reflecting in Buzz Corrys brilliantinedhair, but Im swept up in the planetary romance of the moment. It would be perfect, if only CadetHappy would take a running leap out of the airlock.

Theres something with these two. Youd think theyd be happy to have a vulnerable youngwoman on board, wearing a miniskirt and ankle boots while dreaming of love among the stars.But no. I know Im no Maria Maschinenmensch, but it doesnt do a lot for my pride to be treatedlike junk mail. Breakfast, which of course I serve, is tense. Corry washes down cigarettes withscotch, while Happy tells Eddorian knock-knock jokes until I want to scream. Every attempt tochime in is ignored or receives a monosyllabic grunt from Corry. Whats a star-crossed girl todo?

Luckily, I kept the bugblatter beasts space-o-phone number. Don't ask where. Being all gelatin,Jeff regenerated pretty quickly. He teleported me from the Terra V to a bed and breakfast on thedark side of the moon. He was ravenous, but he never asked me to make him a sandwich.

Then he sleazed out through a crack in the door, leaving me to alone to cope with a hangover, abroken heart, and an unpaid room service tab. Plus the louse was married. Now I know whythey call him a fiend. So back to hash slinging until I made enough money for return passage toMetropolis.

Space? You can have it. Ive had enough with being zapped, frozen, stranded, chained, andsunburned in places where the sun shouldnt shine. Slinging hash under the stars is your basicfate worse than death.

Although I have heard good things about Whileaway.


23/46

Space-Crashed OnGammatra 4!

By The Blue Baron

Engine Four was on fire, the ships conditioscope seemed oddly eager to inform him. Itappeared he had taken more damage from that pack of Zythian Marauders than it first seemed.Roy Fletcher, Space Parcellatorattempted a groan, but only managed a grunt as he wrestedwith the controls of the intergalactic quicksilver bullet that was theApparition.

Engine four was indeed on fire, as well as a good deal of the rest of the left stern of the ship. Astatus light blinked to life indicating the automatic fire suppression had failed to automaticallyactivate.

Typical.

It would, of course, be a mistake to say that Fletcher felt anything but affection for his stalwart

vessel. It was a constant love affair that dated back to when he first hijacked her from the gripsofThe Dread Pirates of Shatnertron-XB7, but like any relationship, it had its rough spots.

In this instance the rough spots were the pockets of updrafts that buffeted the ship as itthundered through the sky like a bead of mercury fired from a childs mattershot. Fletcherslammed his clenched fist down, hard, on the controls, prompting the light to wink out. Thethought Well, at least were not on fire raced through his head in the split second before the shipnosed into the soft earth, boring out an alien canal about half a kilometer long. He went out cold.


24/46

***

Punching through the door, Fletcher noticed two things: an all clear from his envirosuit, andthe blue, brutish Kladextrian trooper laying in ambush right above him. Kladextrians weremasterfully devious, but fortunately not masterfully marksmen. Two vibro-bolter shots inresponse downed the startled sentry.

A breathable atmosphere and a rust-red, scrub-covered landscape informed Fletcher that hehad crashed on Gammatra 4. The presence of Kladextrians indicated that he had landed on thebad half of Gammatra 4. He clicked his tongue. TheApparition was thoroughly inoperable in thisstate. Rough day for me he muttered. Looking over the Kladextrian, he came to the sameconclusion. Rougher day for you, though.

Since the sentry had time to doze, Kladextrian reinforcements would doubtless soon descendon the site. It was time to bid theApparition goodbye. Fletcher stroked the plaswelded hull,murmuring a farewell to his chrome beauty.

***

He took stock of his supplies. After two days of bushwhacking, he was down to his last self-heating can of beans, and his fusion flashlight was inexplicably running low on juice. Whenoutfitting theApparition Doctor Isotope had given him a thirty-page manual on where and whento activate his Subspace Distress Beacon.

At this point he picked a tall-looking hill and prayed for the best.

His ears, on mounting the rise, were greeted with a piercing shriek punctuating the sound ofrapid clicking. The scream, it was easy enough to see, came from a Kladextrian slave girl; it wasa fair bet, then, that the Goldovian Sand Worm was responsible for the clicking as it hurdled herthrough the air. It was rare to see sand worms this far north, and common opinion held that it

wasnt rare enough.

Chivalry, Fletcher knew, would one day likely do him in, possibly today, and very possibly byGoldovian Sand Worms or treacherous Kladextrian slave girls. Still, he only hesitated amoment before charging, vibro-bolter primed.

Hey slaarbhead, pick on somebody your own size! The thing snapped around.

***

Youre quite gallant, she said. I was impressed with your athleticism.

The fight could have gone better. It wasnt his fault entirely his fault, anyway: as he rushedforward; optimistic, as always; and wholly without a plan, as usual, he failed to notice that therewere two of the loathsome critters until the first ones fellow seized him around the waist andhoisted him into the air. It immediately attempted to force him into its bristling maw, swallowingtwo expertly aimed bolter shots instead. Having a cool hand in any situation separated veteranSpacers from greenhorn space dust.

He had to give the next worm some credit, of course. That it understood enough to immediatelygrab his weapon before gunning for the kill was smarter than he would have thought the damn


25/46

things capable of. Disarmed, Fletcher was forced to handle the worm the old-fashioned way:stabbing it to death with its own poison barb. The textbook trick was getting it to stab its tongue;once that was paralyzed all it took was a firm hold on the stinger to cut through its carapace tofreedom.

Textbooks, though, never mention the smell, and as he lay on his back reflecting on this, he was

greeted with the business end of his pistol.

Gratitude is a lost art on Gammatra.

So, the villainess continued, switching from amused to serious like a levirail plowingthrough a junction, A human assault on Gammatra. Have the Almighty Phalzar Lords forsakenus? Where is the rest of your column? What is your objective?

Fletcher smirked. Lady, first of all, Ive met your Almighty Phalzar Lords, and they arent reallyall that Almighty. Or, thinking back to The Voyage to the Ends of Inner Outer Space, Phalzars,actually. And second of all, Im just marooned, is all. You think Id willingly enter Kladextrianterritory with nothing but a bolter and a can of self-cooking beans? Im just looking for a new

ship.

Every Kladextrian child dreams of being a Hero of Kladex. Informing one that they werent aboutto stop a human invasion was like stepping on their Bithite puppy. The Kladextrianscountenance fell, but just as quickly rose.

Fletcher looked up to greeted with the pleasure end of his pistol. Youll need to see the mobsterBlaxxo, she said, a little too excited.

He took his weapon from her. Im not fond of gangsters, you know.

Well then, youll despise Blaxxo. He operates out of a speakeasy about thirty-five kilometers to

the north-northeast.

Are there any other options? He already knew there werent.

To be continued... !!

The Adventures of JetSkyler!

By Xanderkish


26/46

Black Hole. I should have known.

Jet Skyler, Black Hole replied, his arms crossed, a smirk on his face I thought I took care ofyou on Armstrong Prime.

It'll take more than few terratons of photon bombs to take care of me, Black.

Yes, I know that now, Hole replied Shame on me for doubting you to be your father's son.

Don't you say a word about my father Jet said, taking a step forward on the catwalk He's tentimes the man you'll ever be, even with psychoaugmentations.

Interesting you mention that Jet; your father said the exact same thing. He smiled Rightbefore he suffered that tragic 'aneurism'.

The color drained from Jet's face, You didn't.

Oh, did I strike a chord with that last thing? He grinned and spread his arms wide I thought

you of all people would know that a man ten times what I'll ever be wouldn't possibly go downfrom a simple prick of the brain-

Shut up! Jet took a step forward and nearly lost his footing. The black abyss stretched below,like the maw of a monster.

Don't worry, Jet, you won't be pained by the revelation for very long. I'll make sure of that.

We'll see who makes sure of what! Jet cried, raising his blaster.

Suddenly he froze. The blaster fell out of his numb fingers, and he could do nothing but stareon as it floated gently to Black Hole's outstretched palms. His hand closed around it, and he

aimed it at Jet's temple, Ironic isn't it? Killed by the gun of your father.Jet's veins bulged out of his temples as he tried to break free, but to no avail.

I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you, Jet Skyler. It was fun while it lasted, but now thegame is ov-

A blast rang out, and Black Hole fell forward, a red hot hole in the back of his head. Behind thebody, a figure lowered his blaster. Scarred and covered in gray hair, with half his face replacedby a metallic skull, it took Jet a moment to realize he was looking at himself.

Jet Skyler, The old man's face stretched into a skeletal grin, So nice to finally get to see me,face to face.

Jet Skyler. Jet Skyler breathed.

Its been so long since someone called me that, Jet. People call me Singularity, now.

The body of Black Hole began to shudder, and holes began to appear in its body. The samebegan happening to Singularity.


27/46

We don't have much time, Singularity said, a hole expanding across his forehead, Theparadox won't last long. There's an escape pod in the captain's deck, get there as fast as youcan.

I won't forget this, Singularity. Jet said, and began running down the catwalk.

Just promise me this Jet! Singularity yelled over the shuddering.

What?

When you find Katie Neutrino, you grab her by the shoulders, and plant a kiss on her lips.

Jet kept running, in the distance he could hear Singularity yell She deserves it!

He raced across the space station and made it to the captain's deck. He found the button forthe escape pod and slammed it down. A white egglike vessel rose from the floor, and Jet

jumped into it, slamming the hatch shut just as it shot down the chute and out the space stationas it exploded behind you.

Jet stared up at the smoldering remains, Thank you, Singularity.

Several hours later, he was pulled into the docking bay of the Ragnaroc. Katie Neutrino greetedhim as he stepped out.

Nice to see you back in one piece, Skyler. She said, smirking.

Nice to be back, Neutrino. Jet replied, What have I missed.

Well, while you were off having your adventures, She began, a smile creeping up her lips Ithink I may have found a breakthrough in time travel.

Jet paused. As Katie turned began walking away, Jet couldn't help but notice how nice her asslooked in that jumpsuit.


28/46

Visitors DayBy Matt Conrad

It should have been the morning I lost my job and Shelley broke up with me. However, that's nothow I'll remember it.

I had been napping during the heat of the afternoon, because that's what the unemployed do. Apassing shadow woke me up. And then another. And another. More still, passing by myseventh-floor window every few seconds with alarming speed.

My cell phone buzzed to life, a monotone bassline thumping out of the small hunk of plastic.Steve, my roommate, was calling.

"What?" I asked, still a little bleary from the nap. I watched more shadows sweep by.

"Dude, you've gotta get to the roof," he said.

"Why?"

"Aren't you seeing this? Where are you?"

He walked out of his bedroom at the exact moment he posed the questions. Some part of meknew that he knew I was in the living room all along. "We've gotta check this out from a betterangle," Steve said, still talking into his cell. I admit, I was still listening to him on mine.

"Check what out?"

- - - - - - -

I couldn't begin to count how many silver saucers floated over the city. They looked to be aboutfourty feet across, with a series of red and green lights near the underside's rim. I could tell thatthey were not only identical, but the movement of the light informed me that the saucers were allspinning clockwise at the exact same speed. They hovered about 300 feet above the streetsand looked to be staying there for the time being.


29/46

"They should have waited until after dark. Could've had a city-wide rave-orgy," I heard Stevesay. He'd be repeating the phrase 'rave-orgy' for months.

"There's no goddamn way. This isn't happening..." I trailed off, spinning in every direction.Saucers as far as the light would reach.

I looked over at Steve. His shaggy brush of light brown hair was whipping in the cool wind. Hisincredibly thin frame barely held up his Rolling Stones pyjama bottoms. He was recording thesaucers with his phone's camera, giving a powerful narration.

A great whirring sound came from behind us. A much bigger saucer came to rest about 100 feetabove the town square and a hole began to open up beneath it. A group of about twenty...

Oh, come on...

...little green men descended from it. They were identical, each with squat green bodies, fourlimbs, three long fingers, and gigantic heads. They had six, beady black eyes arranged in two

columns and what appeared to be a crude mouth of some sort. Their torsos were clad in whatlooked like silver body armor, like the material their ships were made from.

The crowd that had amassed in the square stood in silent reverence. That is, until the ray gunscame out.

"SHIT!" Steve screamed.

The invaders shot bursts of purple light in all directions from cheap-looking silver ray guns. Eachburst found a mark, disintegrating flesh and clothing alike.

The rest of the saucers started opening.

"C'mon," Steve said, "we don't have much time." He started towards the roof entrance.

"What?" I screamed.

That's when Steve turned to me and uttered the most terrifying thing I'd ever heard:

"You think they're immune to fire?"

- - - - - - -

Ten minutes later, I had somehow been convinced to go back up to the roof. We emerged to the

sounds of utter chaos. Explosions, the screams of the suffering and the dying. The air wassulphurous.

Steve and I had scoured our apartment for anything that could be used to defend ourselves. Wehad found several of Steve's replica swords, gasoline, a book of matches, and a plug-in nailgunthat he had managed to convert into a (terrifying) battery-powered nail gun.

Steve took up an axe and lit it on fire. I had a sword. Just then, three Invaders landed in front ofus.


30/46

They'd jumped up from the street.

Before they could get a shot off, Steve managed to cut one of their arms off, which soundlesslyand suddenly grew right back. It looked at us for a moment, no doubt highly amused.

"Shit," Steve said, terror in his eyes.

We ran to the far side of the roof and ducked behind some concrete blocks. The air was alivewith purple death rays. I saw the mothership advance toward our building, its underside openingonce more. I could hear the popping of an M16 from a nearby rooftop, as if in response.

I heard the Invaders approaching when I remembered the nailgun. I grabbed it and looked atSteve, who simply grinned in reply.

He counted down silently with his fingers: one...two...three!

We bounded out from behind the blocks, Steve leading the way and thrashing madly about with

the axe. I dodged death rays and green shapes alike. The nailgun was getting uncomfortablywarm in my hands.

Ten feet above us, the mothership was settling.

I gave that goddamn toss my all, right into the opening of the ship.

I don't remember much after the fireball.

- - - - - -

I woke up groggy, back in the apartment, sitting on the couch beside Steve. The axe was in his

lap and was eating an ice cream cone.

"What happened?" I asked. My entire being was sore and my eyes hurt, probably out of spite.

"You saved the day, man!"

Steve explained that all the other saucers went down after I pulled that little stunt with his hunkof exploding terror. The aliens on the ground also promptly exploded.

"Let's see if we made Channel 6!" he exclaimed.

We didn't. Standing atop the burning wreckage of the mothership was a gigantic blond

musclefreak. His black pants and white undershirt were stained and bloody but his face wasimmaculate. He held an M16 triumphantly to the sky with one arm and a gorgeous redhead withthe other.

Goddammit...

Of course the redhead was Shelley.


31/46

The ticker read GYM MANAGER SAVES CITY FROM EXTRATERRESTRIALS. I saw ourbuilding in the background, the top floor in ruins.

"Fuck this," I said. "I'm going back to sleep."

Fleet Commander DirkDinglinger: Spaceman ofthe Stars of Our Times!

By Cog

In the unknown future of planet Earth, humans have conquered the realm known as outerspace. Colorful flying machines now waft through the void of darkness once populated only bythe satellites of yesteryear, and humanity now faces a threat not seen since ever before:extraterrestrial aliens!

But all is not lost, for in this bleak-yet-exciting time there exists the United Space Force of

America, a bold and blazing peacekeeping force keeping peace among the stars of our times,and within this dashing group of daring do-gooders, there is no better spaceship than the USSCarbunkle. This massive mammoth of a monolith of a ship is the best in its league, and this isdue in no small part to its courageous commanding captain Commander Dirk Dinglinger. WithCommander Dirk Dinglinger in charge, there is no problem that the crew of the USS Carbunklecan resolve!

Our story begins with the lovely Officer Lily Lilacs approaching Commander Dirk Dinglinger withsome urgent news.


32/46

Commander Dinglinger, I have some urgent news from Earth Headquarters, exclaimed Lily.

Oh Lily, Dirk calmly replied. Ill be the one who decides what news around here is eitherurgent or not. Dont worry your pretty little head!

But sir, weve just received word that a Korriniaan inmate has just broken loose from the ship!

Suddenly, Dirks smirk faded from his face. Lily, I thought I told you never to say that word infront of me! You know how that one word always upsets me. Ever since that time long ago.

Unbeknownst to Lily, Dirk had a terrible and tragic secret -- a secret so tragic and terrible thatDirk alone was the only person in the universe who knew it. The only evidence of this secretexists as a small keepsake Dirk keeps hidden within is left lapel, though what exactly thiskeepsake is remains a mystery to the rest of the crew.

Suddenly, a young cadet rushes toward the commander. Commander Dirk, the flusteredensign exclaims. The gizmoid-o-tron indicates that the Korriniaan inmate is in close proximity

to our whereabouts. We must act soon before its too -- YAAARRRGGGHHH!!!

Just then, the young cadet exploded in an orgy of smoldering ash and boney dust. Behind hispowdery remains loomed a foreboding figure cackling into the heavens themselves.

Bwar-har-har! The intimidating foe scoffed at the steadfast Dirk. Commander Dirk! Its beena long time since we last met!

The behemoth of a man stepped from the shadows. It was the Korriniaan inmate, only meresteps away from the face of our courageous hero.

You, Dick responded with gallant repose. Why are you here? Youre not suppose to be here!

Youre suppose to be in the prison on this ship.

Ah, but that was my old home, said the Korriniaan inmate. For you see, my new home is thisship. Specifically, the part of the ship that we are in right now -- the captains helm! Bwar-har-har!

Oh yeah, replied Dirk. And how are you going to take over my ship without a weapon?

Did you not see your dead friend getting shot to death by this ray-gun I contain within my ownhands, stated smugly the Korriniaan. This gun can vaporize any enemy! It truly is the mostindestructible weapon of them all! Bwar-har-har-har-har!

Dirk simply smiled and with a twinkle in his eye, goaded the beastlike man. Well then, Dirksaid. I guess Im just going to have to get tough!

In that instant, a brawl broke out on the ship. The Korriniaan inmate back-flipped into the air,but Dirk responded by doing two back-flips. The Korriniaan threw a punch toward thecommander, but Dick not only managed to evade it, but he also managed to pull off three back-flips and a somersault in the nick of time as well.


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BWWWAAARRR!!! The Korriniaan roared into the night sky. It seems as though were evenlymatched Dirk, but luckily, I happen to have the perfect trump card!

Just then, the Korriniaan inmate grabbed Lily Lilacs from wherever she was before and aimedhis ray-gun at her firm-yet-supple head.

If you dont surrender to me now Dirk, Ill blast this pretty little thing into oblivion, grunted theKorriniaan.

Dont you dare hurt Sally, demanded the commander.

For the first time in a while, Dirk felt conflicted. If he let the inmate go, Dirk would lose his ship,but if he attempted to stop the Korriniaan, then Lilacs head would cease to exist. Dirk knewwhat had to be done. In a brazen move of bold brashness, Dirk performed four perfect back-flips and successfully stole the ray-gun from the Korriniaan. With one final flick of the wrist, Dirkshot the Korriniaan inmate dead.

No! You killed me, screamed the Korriniaan as he lie dead on the floor.

Oh commander, said a flustered Lily. You truly are my hero -- but watch out!

Just then, with his last ounce of strength, the Korriniaan inmate shot Commander Dirk in thechest with the ray-gun.

NOOOOOOOOO, screamed Lily from the bottom of her pitiful heart.

It seemed as though the world had lost a true hero, but suddenly, the commander managed tostand on his own. It turned out that the bullet from the ray-gun only managed to obliterateCommander Dirks personal keepsake.

Commander, Lily said with sadness. Your personal keepsake has been destroyed forever.

Dirk just smiled at Lily. My personal keepsake hasnt been destroyed, for you, Lily, are mypersonal keepsake. Will you do the honor of marrying me?

Oh, captain, Lily swooned as she nearly fainted to the ground. You truly are the greatest heroof them all!

So ends another adventure of Fleet Commander Dirk Dinglinger: spaceman of the stars of ourtimes!

Space Justice!By Cheggs


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Burning hulks of molten rock rained down upon the surface of Cineps as the moons orbitingabove collided and broke apart. Sangar, exiled to a dead system for his dreadful crimes, hadreturned to exact revenge on the galaxy that brought him to justice. Einar and his companion,Dodgy, as the last surviving members of the Justice Defense, had come to stop him. However,in a botched surprise attack, both of them had been captured by Sangar's Dark Guards.

Peeking over the shoulders of the guards holding him Einar watched as Sangar disconnectedDodgy's Jumper pak and dangled her over the black ship's edge miles above the planet'ssurface. Dodgy struggled to escape as Sangar spoke, "You have failed again, brave Einar. Nowyou get to see your last friend in the universe plummet to her death." Through his horriblemandibles Sangar released a disgustingly joyful howl.

"Sangar, you fiend. Release her at once and turn yourself over to me or I will be forced to usedeadly...force!" Einar demanded.

With a foul smirk Sangar dropped Dodgy and for a moment she fell slowly, but when shereached the edge of the ship's gravity field the speed of her descent accelerated threefold.Before Einar could stifle his screams for Dodgy, she was out of sight, lost to the inescapable pull

of Cineps.

"You coward! She was just a young girl. How could you?" Einar's blood surged to all points ofhis body as he crouched down among the Dark Guards and lifted them far off the deck into theair. As they fell, Einar rushed to the others scattered on the deck crushing them each with asingle deadly blow to their reproductive organs. In an instant he had defeated Sangar's forcesand was now face to face-like-thing with the terrible beast who had caused such wantondestruction around the galaxy.

Einar was red with intense rage as he stared into Sangar's many eyes, "I don't care aboutjustice anymore, Sangar." He fumed, " I just want to watch you die."

"And I you." Said Sangar.

Among the multitudes of planets in the Cyron Galaxy, among the millions of innovationsproduced from each sentient race inhabiting those planets, one was held to be the truly greatestinvention since space travel, S.C.I.E.N.C.E, or more specifically, the portable S.C.I.E.N.C.Eactivator. This activator, which was issued to every Justice fighter in the Galaxy, when activatedwould for all intents and purposes essentially solve any problem set against it with split secondprecision and less than .2 probability for failure. It was, as decided by a panel of the Galaxy'sgreatest scientific minds, a godsend.

Dodgys eyes widened. As she sped toward the ground something Einar told her long ago in thedrinking room aboard their home ship echoed in his thoughts, "Dodgy, never forget that Science

is the only friend we have in this cold and empty universe. Science and the frothy brews it hasproduced to ease our minds among the endless screaming hatred of this black hole from whichwe can never escape. Never forget, Dodgy...never forget...never...forget." Dodgyscreamed, "SCIEEEEEEEENNNNNNNCE!" and punched the activator on her waist repeatedlywith her fist in desperation. Breaking the seal on the one time use S.C.I.E.N.C.E. device sent itsmicrogears into motion. Immediately it began processing data determining just what thesituation was and then how to remedy it, running through all possibilities within nanoseconds. Itsolved equations, created algorithms, and effectively recreated the already perfect jet pak in itsdamaged state to have it perform a short boost to right Dodgy's position and then a full boost


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that would serve to send her back to the control deck of the ship. As immediately as it had gonethrough calculating the issue it had set its plan into action and in no time at all Dodgy was nolonger spiralling to her death and instead rocketing skyward back to safety. Einar and Sangarcollided like the moons above them striking blows of equal force upon each other. They wellmatched physically with Sangar's years of fierce battle and Einar's experience fighting forJustice across the systems. With each maneuver both foes matched with reciprocating blows.

"You are no match for me, Sangar. Just give up now while you still can." "You fool. You thinkyou can best me? I have destroyed every one of you colleagues in the Justice Forces. You willbe dealt with j-"

Just then Dodgy, with the help of S.C.I.E.N.C.E, crashed through the floor directly into Sangar'scrotch lifting him several feet up into the control board embedded in the ceiling. Sparks flew,wires came undone and frayed in the crash. Einar's face contorted in the flash of destruction. Asboth Sangar and Dodgy fell back to the deck, Einar rushed to Dodgy's side. " Are you okay?"Einar asked.

Dodgy coughed up blood in response. The ship's controls shut down and it began a quick

descent.

Einar stood and prepared to escape when Dodgy grabbed his leg, "Einar," she struggled, "S.C.I.E.N.C.E. ...""I know," Einar said, triggering his jet pack with a tear in his eye, I know.


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Nexus N. Teen: Robot P.I.By David Merrick

With an acetylene torch in one hand and a pair of jumper cables in the other two, Galaxiaapproached me in a kind of sauntering slitheror was it a slithering saunter? A semanticstickler, to say the least, and I might have attempted to solve this syntactical conundrum were itnot for the white-hot glare of the approaching cutting torch and the unsettling, toothy frown nowspreading across Galaxias scaly visage. I was wondering why she looked so disconcertedwhen I realized it was not a scowl but her smile as I perceived it while dangling upside down inthe back room of her gin joint.

Indeed, I intoned, it seems that Ishould be the disconcerted one here.

Galaxia paused, raising one of her four chitinous eyebrows. I knew her well enough to know itwas a sort of teasing leer rather than genuine confusionshe would have raised two non-corresponding brows were that the case. I beg your pardon? she asked.

Sorry, my monstrous moll, you caught me on another wavelength. The distractions of parallelprocessing, and all that. I tipped my head in what, given my current position, Galaxia wouldhave described as an inverse nod. Granted, parallels have their benefits too, I thought, as forthe last five minutes I had been silently noting the structural weaknesses in the shackles thatbound me to the rack. Titanigold looked pretty, alright, but when it came to consistent densityyou werent exactly getting your moneys worth.

Thank the maker shes got a better eye for shine than stability, I mused, the servos in my jointsworking double-time in a covert attempt to wrest free of my bondage. As Galaxia drew nearer Ifeigned a grin, remembered my limited (i.e. non-existent) expressive range prevented me fromdoing so, and cocked my head to the side instead.

She smirked, hissing, Cute, but in my club cute gets you nowhere. Especially when you startsnooping around. She brought the torch close to my faceplate, but rather than trimming offsomething valuable she just let the sparks flick against my optics. Oh, Nexus, what are wegoing to do with you?


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I dunno. Cut me down, maybe, let me buy you a drink. I raised my vocal volume, masking thescreech my joints made as they slowly wore away at the cuffs. Pretend I never discoveredthose ledgers linking you to the spice trade. Though my restricted stance made it less thaneasy, I shrugged in a sort of Oh me fashion. Surely the Nexus charm reservoir wasnt allspent.

You sure know how to make a girl giggle, Galaxia said, though the ensuing titter was hideousenough to be considered a form of psychological torture on most planets under the GenevaConvention. One of the arms holding an alligator clip brushed up against her leftmost tentacleher attempt at playing coy, I supposed, but still it rattled me to my positronic core. Too bad yourcharisma wont get you out in one piece, my steel friend.

Platinum, but I wont take that as an insult, doll. I said, my left optic briefly flickering in a wink.This seemed to get her riled upnever a pleasant sight, but distracting for her at leastand fora moment she lowered all three of her torture implements, all four of her eyes ogling meflirtatiously.

My moment had come, brief though it was, and before she could resume her threateningadvance my upper joints flexed one last time and burst the cuffs around them. The force wasenough to propel some of the shrapnel through the air and bury it in the surrounding walls, aphenomenon perplexing and alien enough to further distract the actual alien in the room.Wasting no time, I grabbed the torch from her claw, spun it so that it fit my hand in a moreergonomically satisfying fashion, and drove its lighted tip into her middle-right eye. The resultingscream was at a high enough frequency to shatter the back rooms dingy window and, I wouldlater discover, rupture one of my tertiary diodes.

Galaxia staggered backwards, her now free hand shielding her burnt eye and the other twodropping their jumper cables to do similar. Green pus oozed out of the socket and between herarmoured fingers as her shrieking increased in pitch. My attack was a low blow and one I would

never have considered in ordinary circumstances, but ordinary these circumstances were notnot to mention, the eye would grow back later.

I bent at the waist and ripped the Titanigold shackles from my knees and legs, somersaulting inmid-air so that I landed on the cement floor feet-first. One eye warily resting on Galaxia as shethrashed about, unintentionally backing away, I retrieved my trench coat from the corner of theroom where she had earlier tossed it, dusted it off and tugged it on. One of my circuits worriedher screams would attract unwanted attentionsay the armed goons from Lobster Reticule IVwhile the other half of my divided attention ached for a USBarillo. I found my pack, carefullystowed away in a hidden pocketall the others had been turned outpopped one of the sticksin the corner of my mouth-port and started towards Galaxia.Okay, my scaly lass, I said, bending down to pick up the cutting torch as I moseyed toward

her, Lets see if we cant find out who your business partners are. And dont lieI know whichparts of you dont grow back.

***

I strolled out of the back room twenty minutes later, tapping another flash drive out of the pack.One of the massive Lobsterians, cradling an oversized blaster in its massive pincers, eyed mewarily.


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Everything okay in there? it clicked. I heard screaming.

Well, you know how Miss Galaxias private shows get, I said. Up close, and very personal.

17 Million A.D.By Isahn

Dr. George Reynolds nearly leapt from his chair as a thin, clawed finger lightly tapped him onthe shoulder.

Dammit Reika, dont sneak up on me like that! The young scientist snapped. Instead of inEnglish, however, his words emerged as a series of chitters and squeaks.

Ah, your proficiency in our language is increasing, doctor, Reika replied in kind. Yourinflection is nearly perfect. And I apologize, but this is an emergency.


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Whats going on? George spun around to face his companion.

Our long-distance radar has detected multiple inbounds, and that could only mean, Reikaswhiskers twitched with apprehension, the Swarm is approaching.

The Swarm? Really? Georges face lit up with excitement.

Ill never understand your fascination with those disgusting creatures, Reika muttered, hisears folding back with indignation, our two races have been at war for centuries. Countlessmillions of Chaskeeta have died because of them. The Chaskeeta, as Reikas race describedthemselves, were essentially tall, bipedal rats, as millions of years of evolution had radicallychanged their features. Their tails, for example, were little more than elongated stubs, and theirfaces were flat, like a humans.

Its my job to study life of all kinds, George declared, well, used to be, anyway.

He watched in fascination as a female Chaskeeta dashed by the room, obviously fleeing theapproaching Swarm. Although physically similar to the males, they were a bit smaller, and had

the distinction of possessing not one, but two pairs of breasts - not surprising considering theirancestors had upwards of six.

Hed known their ancestors, too. Personally. As a child, he owned a couple of pet rats, andwas always intrigued by their intelligence and curiosity. Later, when the warheads fell and theworld burned, he and thousands of other survivors huddled in vast underground habitats meantto last for years, not decades. When the food ran out, rats often became dinner.

It had been a time of desperation. The war was so destructive that it, along with mankindsother environmental transgressions, had rendered the air toxic, the land dead and the oceans allbut sterile. It would be thousands of years or longer before the Earth healed itself. It was this

realization that inspired the one advancement that could save them all: a portal to another era, atime when the Earth was lush and full of life. Since time travel to the past was impossible, theywould have to seek their fortune in the far future. Unfortunately, when George arrived he foundhimself alone, and had no idea if any of the others had made it. Worst of all, his beloveddaughter Emily was among the missing.

A low boom reverberated throughout the building, shaking him from his thoughts.What the hell?! George almost fell out of his chair.It's the Swarm. Theyre early! Reika chittered. Come on, well be safe in the bunker!They pushed through a mass of frantic Chaskeeta in the mazelike hallways of the building,

Reika urging him onward. Muffled blasts from somewhere outside rocked the building more than

once, eliciting panicked squeals each time. Finally, an exasperated George found himselfoutside. He gasped.

Fat aircraft that resembled beetles droned overhead, dropping powerful explosives that rockedthe city with each impact. Pillars of flame erupted everywhere, and acrid smoke choked the air,smelling strongly of burnt fur. The bombers were accompanied by a swarm of small, buzzingcreatures that descended upon the city like dive bombers. On the rooftops, crews of Chaskeetafired machine guns and antiaircraft cannons at the attackers, their glowing trails of bullets filling


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the air. A celebratory squeak would erupt whenever one of the things was shot down, but it wasclear the defenders were being overwhelmed.

They hurried through the burning city, weaving through broken alleyways and leaping over thedead and dismembered. George glimpsed the squashed remains of several of the attackers,and they resembled nothing less than giant bugs.

Of course, these werent ordinary insects. Aside from rats, there was one other multicellularland animal that survived the nuclear holocaust, safely breeding in humankinds vast,abandoned shelters while the Earth healed itself: Paraplaneta Americana, the Americancockroach. Most of its descendants had become the small, mostly harmless bugs that flourishedeverywhere, but in the jungles to the south, one imposing variety had evolved intelligence.

Several of these large, winged insects landed in front of them, and the pair froze in theirtracks. The bugs stood on four legs, and each held a bizarre looking rifle in their chitinous arms.

Antennae twitching frantically, the roach-soldiers aimed their weapons squarely at George andhis companion.

Well, heres your chance to study them, Reika muttered.

Oh, shut up, George snarled.

Wait why arent they shooting us?

A two-legged figure emerged from the haze, accompanied by several more roaches on eitherside. Clad in dark, shining armor, George noticed something very familiar about the new arrival.

It looked human.

What the hell are you?! George cried out in English. The human wore a helmet that

resembled the head of a roach, complete with honorary antennae. It sauntered over to George,stopping just inches from his face. With a fluid motion, it removed the helmet.

Not only was it human, it was young and beautiful, and very much female.

Wait no no, no, no! Georges eyes bulged, and he stumbled backward.

Whats wrong, daddy? Emily smiled, arent you glad to see me?

What have they done to you?! He growled.

Nothing at all, she laughed, but as far as you and your friend are concerned, I cant make

any promises. She turned, and murmured something to one of her insectoid companions.

No, wait! Emily! he reached for her, but the gesture was in vain. The butt of a roachs riflelunged toward his face, and all was darkness.


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Polyps ProgressBy Warren Tilson

In your Latin its Mystacoceti Peregrinus, the traveler whale. I admit its not the most descriptivename for our home, a 30,000 mile long living being that journeys between galaxies. So huge itsmass generates enough gravity to maintain an atmosphere but yet it eats in the fashion of abaleen whale from your planet by straining out the small particulates of matter that float aboutspace.

While some do live on the outside outside of the whale, Im an Insider, my people make ourhome on the lower brain-stem where we have fought for centuries to keep from being driven outof our ancestral glands.

My father captained the Long-haul cutter The Crystal Sliver III for the Beebosmet Syndicate andI was newly promoted to third-mate. One day I promised myself I will captain my own ship,though not this one, as even the greatest ships wear down and need to be retired. But she wasnot done yet.

We had put out under magnetic sail from The Nether Regions with a load of fresh polyps keptalive in the hold in the usual manner of floating in blood while attached to their original tissue.

You may ask why such a long journey would be made for polyps. These are not just any polyps.These are polypus ebrius aurum. The golden drunkards. If raised right they will produce thefinest and clearest spirits you have ever tasted.

Starting with just this little group of polyps, in a few life-cycles the Syndicate will be harvestingenough spirits to buy their way into higher society and where they go my family goes. Thosewere thoughts for later. Now we had a problem. The people we stole them from wanted themback.

The Virussians were closing fast astern. As contractors to the Corpuscle Gang its entirely theirresponsibility to maintain security at the polyp farms. So if they fail, the survivors will be in theshit. Literally. So to say they were motivated is an understatement.

Oh did they have good, fast ships. Small and built for pursuit and boarding attacks but lacking inendurance, range and darters. Our captain had figured we would have more time before theynoticed the missing patch. And we could outrun their limited fuel supply. He miscalculated.

Instead of heading up the Caverna Nervousa we came around 33 degrees. All we had to dowas make it to Heaslys Valve. Just two breaths away. We would disappear amongst the otherships in that vast port and sneak out the other side where the Virussians would never beallowed to go.


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All sails up! Came the order from the foredeck . We never ran full-sheet, the ship was too oldfor the strain. Too old for such a job. Dad had been too stubborn to let someone else go on thismission.

We could hear the blatt blatt blatt of their splutter-spurt engines. It sounded like there were

dozens of them. Two or three men mounted on each one adds up to a lot of angry, murderousbastards.

All hands to battle-stations! Never something you want to hear on a commercial ship! We had acrew of fifty of which we needed ten just to manage the ship. We only had five darter stations sothat was 10 men which left 30 for repelling boarders. Maybe 15 of those were in their fightingprime.

We would have to get lucky. We didnt.

They caught us about a quarter-breath away from the Valve. And we were on the wrong side toexpect anyone to help us. Not if they didnt want to get on the Virussian to kill list.

They didnt have ship-mounted darters, true but they did have pair-o-sytes. Fist-sized conjoinedmonstrosities with gibbering human-like faces, that will latch onto an unlucky son-of-a-spore anddrive him mad with painpleasure.

Our darters were only able to take out a few of their lead ships as they flew by. Not nearly goodenough.

This is when we learned they had the pair-o-sytes as the beasts came fluttering down throughour sails. Our sailors had seen a lot but this unmanned the lot of them. There were only four ofthe things and dad and I and first-mate Billinis killed three of them. Too bad dad missed thatother one. One moment he was his lusty, jovial self. The next, he was running Billnis through. I

managed to hack it off of his back but it was too late.

I left him there. With him insane and

pointless waste of time mag

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