Have you ever wondered why damn near everyone decides to travel during this time of year? No? Well, I sure do. Especially since I can now be classed as a traveller. No- not "Traveller"! I haven't left BSE (stop your frigging cheering!). I meant the tourista kind.
Seems Duckbutt and I are on a space liner bound for Allipon, courtesy of His Most Hedonistic Majesty. And nooooo... we didn't get exiled from the Periphery either, I'll explain later.
Things have really picked up all of a sudden. Somebody gave the RIP a whole buncha money to go and play in Republic of Corona space. The BB-gun equipped lifeboats that make up the ROC Defense Force are making pretty flashes in the night sky as they blow up. Meanwhile, Clan O' the Rock was talking really loud and making excuses about "not what they signed up for" and shuffling towards the exit before anyone realized the crotch of their pants was wet.
Leseee... the TCA has unraveled like a cheap suit, just about the same time the Foelians decided to make seafood salad out of the Celtians again. Of course everyone except the Myrrians scrambled to take control of the once TCA-open systems. Just for "safekeeping", y'know. probably a good thing, considering that there's a buncha IND ships running around Trans-Canally, just like there's a buncha IND ships running around ROC space.
Allipon has had its share of excitement too, in the form of some univited guests. The Bone got this special interview courtesy of Ty Meup (who I'll talk about in a bit):
A Visit to the ANT Farm
by Tyrone Meup
A few short weeks ago a new species appeared in Alippon's Starport. I, like other residents here, heard about their arrival just last week. Never did I expect, though, to run across one so quickly. Last night, as I sat at a local bar, nursing my stimbrew, the doors irised open, and who should walk in, but Professor Wo Man and one of her ANT specimens.
Let me tell you, I read the description of ANTs in the Alipponian press release, but that description falls far short of the reality. Man, these things are ugly. It reminded me of something out of a horror holo. Always true to my calling, though, I choked back the bile, and asked Professor Wo Man if I could interview her "friend." The Professor turned toward the alien, and proceeded to emit a series of staccato clicks that almost sent me scurrying back to my 'brew. Dr. Wo Man said that the ANT would agree to be interviewed but, because of its language she would have to act as interpreter.
The Professor told me that she is having a very difficult time understanding the language. There are both verbal and signing components, but there still appears to be some component of their language which is missing. It is not clear whether the movements of the different antennae are part of the language, or serve some other purpose. The translators are having a hard time integrating the different modes of communication. The interview looks like a badly dubbed action movie. The ANT appear to be trying to make contact, but they are very alien.
TY: Sir, can you tell us a little about your history?
Wo Man: I do not know enough of the language to make this question meaningful. They make a number of references to a Queen, and to someone or something that sounds like GELD FINDER.
Ty: So how did your groups come to find yourselves here in the Periphery?
Wo Man: They are not sure. Apparently they were in some sort of gathering (a class I think) and the next moment they were in the park of Alippon.
Ty: Can you tell us a little more about the ANT, as a species? We can see what you look like, but can you tell us a little more about what motivates you? Are you a hive-minded species? How do you feel about other hive-minded species, such as the SAM or AIS?
Wo Man: They seem to have had almost no contact with other species. They do not appear aggressive. They may be some type of military unit - they are certainly well-trained.
Ty: Do the ANT have any type of special abilities or characteristics that differentiate them from other species?
Wo Man: They are incredibly strong, and seemingly very intelligent. I would guess they come from a planet with a gravity of at least 5 or 6. They are fascinated by any type of metal objects, so they may have few metals on their homeworld. We have experimented with many types of food, and they seem to prefer vegetables, the tougher the better. They do not appear to be a spacefaring race, because they clearly did not understand the controls of the ships they toured. They are also rather clumsy, and tend to break almost anything they handle.
Ty: What can you tell my readers about your long-term and short-term goals? Do you intend to spread out through the Periphery?
Wo Man: They give more references to this GELD FINDER, but my limited understanding of the language does not allow me to really understand what they mean. They do not seem to understand the concept of the Periphery.
Ty: Do you plan to try to reconnect with the rest of your species? Do you have any idea where they might be, relative to your location now?
Wo Man: They clearly do not know where they are or from where they came. We have shown them star charts, and they seem to have no concept of what the charts represent. If the ANT live underwater, they may not actually see the stars.
Ty: What type of governmental organization do the ANT practice? Is this organization universal for your species?
Wo Man: They speak of a Queen, but it is unclear whether they mean the leader of their small group, or some greater monarch.
Ty: Do the ANT have some type of legal doctrine that controls/constrains your behavior towards one another and towards non-ANT species? Do you have an established set of laws?
Wo Man: They seem to misunderstand the question. Again they speak of a Queen, but it is unclear which sovereign they mean, or how this Queen relates to the laws.
Ty: What is your impression of the mish-mash of species here in the Periphery? Have you interacted with any of the before this?
Wo Man: They seem to have had almost no contact with other species.
Ty: The FISH are another species which no one here in the Periphery has ever met, but is rumored to exist in the Inner Empire (another section of this Galaxy). Have you ever heard of the FISH? Are there other species you've encountered that we in the Periphery are yet to meet?
Wo Man: The FISH are unknown to them, at least under that name. Again, they do not seem to comprehend the concept of a galaxy or empire.
* * * * *
The University Xenobiology staff has recently done extensive research through archives to find any information about the ANT. They provide the following summary:
Only a couple of explorers and traders have visited the ANT homeworld, because of the high gravity, low tech-level, and unpleasant atmosphere, terrain and inhabitants. The reports on the ANT show a medium-sized colony (HILL) on a low seamount, with farming complexes all across the seabed. It is populated by a highly-structured group of small, arrogant, crab-like, ten-legged, semi-humanoids who communicate through archaic translating machines, and spend a lot of time hunting in the sea.
Buildings and other constructs are of organic material, rather than metal. The factories are very efficient, but produce little in the way of trade goods other than various types of foods and a few organic trade items. The world is so low-tech that it uses Fossil Fuels for Power.
HILL has a rudimentary space port without facilities, basically the roof of a large building, only large enough for the smallest explorers and tramp freighters. There are several small, primitive beacons orbiting the planet, beaming messages in a number of ancient or obscure languages. One partial translation seemed to contain the phrase "Go Away".
No other information can be found on any race that even remotely resembles the ANT.
Ah yes, good ol'
Ty Meup. Did you know he's the reason I'm taking this little cruise to Allipon?
Damn right you didn't know! Sorry about being a bit testy there- the cabin
girl can't seem make the perfect margarita yet. Guess I'll I'll have to keep
sampling until she does. Yeah, I know it's supposed to be eggnog, for the
holidays. I'm having a Mexican Christmas, okay? Meanwhile this'll explain
it:
Rlo's Surprise Party (or "On the Road to Allipon")
by P.K., N.B., W.A. and P.B.
One evening after a filling dinner, Rlo sent Myron to put Phuzy, his pet skedbe, off to bed, and headed down the hall to his private quarters.
"Ah," He burped, enjoying the sound as it echoed around the majestic passageway. "I loves dat bratwurst wit maple syrip! 'Course it ain't as good as my dear ol' Mommy's..." As Rlo entered the main room, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared.
There in front of him were twenty five Robotic Pleasure Sheep. Their eyes turned towards Rlo as he stood in the doorway. A single bleat broke the silence. Then another chimed in, then another. Slowly they all turned towards him as their bleating rose to a slow crescendo.
His Most Hedonistic Majesty felt fine, silky fleece rub against the back of his legs, then the front, then the sides. He was surrounded by two dozen bleating, rubbing, undulating, surging mounds of fleece. His excitement rose as human sexual pheromones were sprayed from the sheep's pores.
Slowly, Rlo's muscles began to convulse, and his hips begin to thrust of their own accord. He grabbed the nearest sheep, and entered her deftly. The other sheep crowded around the two, nibbling him here, licking him there. Over and over Rlo thrusted, unable to control his actions. The sheep he was inside of began to bleat, louder and louder, faster, and faster, until he thought he just couldn't bear the ecstasy anymore.
The orgy went on and on, all the sheep bleating in time with each thrust. Seconds melted into minutes which, in turn, melted into hours. All concept of self, all concept of anything else, slowly dissipated until it was just the thrusting, and the bleating, bleating and thrusting. Until finally, the Reichskonig felt himself burst forth, and a single high-pitched wail filled the room as the sheep he was inside slowly crumpled to the floor.
The last image Rlo saw, as he began to lose consciousness, was that the other sheep crowding around him once more.
* * * * *
The luckier sheep (those who could still move, slowly maneuvered themselves around Rlo's body, nudging the seemingly lifeless form with their muzzles. Slowly they got under the body. Finally, Rlo ended up prone, draped across the backs of ten of the sheep, a large, fleecy-soft and lanolin-enriched bed of furry fluffiness.
The flock headed towards the large double doors of Rlo's Imperial bedroom. The rest of the sheep not carrying Rlo moved ahead of his prone body, nudging the inner doors open. Six stayed behind momentarily to nudge and push the cushions and mattresses around so that it appeared as if no one slept here this evening. Their tarrying behind saved their lives.
As the first of the bed-sheep entered the short hallway between the two sets of double doors a hiss was heard. The lead sheep looked up just in time to have his head taken off by a dive-bombing incontient pet skedbe.
Phuzy, Rlo's "bestus animal friend", had been perched on his shelf high on the wall inside the bedroom he had watched the goings-on below from start to finish.
From the top of the high-ceilinged bedroom his sleeping area was above the light line of the room's soft glowing indirect lighting, and and he had been nearly invisible in the darkness.
What was going on below was nothing new and Phuzy had thought nothing of it, except that he was thirsty again. He'd gnawed off another drinkbead...this one was raspberry wax filled with one of his favorites -- Chocolate brandy, ground glass and orange paint. Yet, when his master began to leave without taking him, he sensed something was amiss the way even the dumbest (or drunken) animal can. Cats and dogs do it, and a skedbe is at least as smart as one of them.
Phuzy, sensed danger and continued to climb and swoop down on the assembled lambchops. However, in his almost- always drunken stupor he hit the floor more often than a sheep, and much harder than he would had he been sober. But, the attack was effective. Robotic Pleasure Sheep have had many strange experiences, but being attacked, albeit badly, by a large [think St. Bernard], omnivorous, flying rat was definitely a new and frightening one.
Alerted by the skedbe's shrill screeching, the evening watch of Rlo's personal Lemite Guard burst through the outer doors and witnessed a sight of singular insanity.
Sheep were running in every direction, bouncing off the hall walls and each other, tangling themselves in the drapes, all of them bleating loudly. A flying incontinent skedbe zoomed erratically up and down, sometimes crashing into a sheep, sometimes into the floor, then wobbled back into the air for another dive. And the stench was palpable. Even to the jaundiced eye of those who spent years in Rlo's service this situation looked bizarre.
Leaving ten Lemites behind to watch the doors, two of the guard scurried off to inform the Duty Captain of the Guard, Krisko the Slippery. About a minute later Krisko arrived with two squads of heavily armed Lemites and ten collared Sand Fleas. Each Sand Flea was tethered by thick anchor chain to three Lemite ATVs. The Sand Fleas smelled the sheep and started clattering forward. Even with the ATVs in full reverse, they were all slowly being dragged forward.
And where was Rlo during all this? Lying on the floor atop three of the largest sheep, sleeping soundly and snoring loudly, oblivious to everything around him.
Krisko apprised the situation immediately and barked out orders. Lemites rushed forward to drag the Reichkonig's body out of harm's way. As soon as Rlo was clear he ordered the ATVs to release the Fleas. Explosive bolts severed the tethers at the collar and the Sand Fleas were set free...
(... At this point, dear reader, we cut away to previously recorded seashore scenes at sundown with waves gently washing up on the beach and soothing natural sounds in the background, although you think it's a bit loud. But, if you listen carefully, you can hear horrible bleating, sickening snapping, breaking sounds that make you cringe, and thuds and crashes that don't sound pleasant... the music stops and the video fades before your eyes...)
* * * * *
... There were no more standing, running, or bleating sheep, just of piles of wool shavings, steel parts, plastic bits and widening puddles of MUCUS(tm). Krisko ordered the ATVs to retrieve their charges and the drivers moved into the hallway to catch the Sand Fleas and re-attach their chains.
The ATVs maneuvered the Sand Fleas out of the area, leaving only Krisko and his squad in the hallway. Stealthily, they moved across the remaining length of hall and slowly and quietly opened the inner double doors. Inside were the six remaining Robotic Pleasure Sheep(tm), who stayed behind to straighten up the bedroom.
Krisko ordered his guards to, "Grab them-thar sheep!", and in practically no time at all the remaining sheep are on the floor, on their sides, their four legs duct-taped together and their snouts held closed with sandwich bag tie wraps. The Lemites dragged the sheep from the bedroom and Krisko ordered them taken to the colony's main security complex, Fort Moe.
And where was Rlo during all this? The guards who had carried him out had woken up Myron, the Reichskong's faithful lackey. Now Rlo was out like a light, atop a soft down comforter under a plaid blanket of all-natural man-made WonderWeve (the same material that covers each and every Robotic Pleasure Sheep) on a giant bed in yet another of his sumptious Imperial bedrooms.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, back at Fort Moe, the Lemites carried the hog-tied sheep into a freight elevator which began to descend at a sickening speed. Lights flashed and the elevator went deeper and deeper. The doors opened onto a large cavern, half carved out of the bedrock of the planet. Along the walls were cage-like cells stretching off into the distant darkness.
In the center, directly ahead of the squad and their sheep prisoners, were numerous large tables apparently made of blocks of rock carved from the excavated cavern. Sunken into the floor are a number of large round pools, some empty, some containing bubbling masses of molten something-or-other from which either steam or smoke softly swirled upwards. The whole place smelled of brimstone.
Most of the tables were being cleaned off by crews of men. Large, oily looking men, wearing leather aprons and executioner hoods with only openings for their eyes. These men, their hairy backs and large arms visible under the aprons were scrubbing and rinsing the tables off. The effluent ran down the stone floor via channels cut into the rock and then into rusty iron grates set into the floor. It wasn't dishwater.
One of the big hairy men, the only one with a decoration on his apron, stepped forward and spoke in whispers to Krisko. When they were finished speaking, Krisko ordered his Guards to chain the prisoners to the tables, one sheep to a table. The Guards accomplishd the task with their usual Lemite efficiency and re-enterd the elevator. Krisko was the last one to step aboard as the doors slid shut.
There was going to be hell to pay over this, he thought the elevator began its ascent back to the surface. The Reich Chancellor was not going to be pleased to be woken up. The report wasn't going to make any more pleasant.
* * * * *
The next day a full report was made by the dungeon men on the extent of their... interrogations. They reported to the Reich Chancellor that a recording was retrieved from the modified memory nodes of one of the sheep:
WELCOME-RLO-HIZZONER.
WE, TY-MEUP'S-SHEEP, HAVE NEED OF YOUR HELP. PLEASE EXCUSE MISDIRECTION WE EMPLOYED TO CAPTURE YOU.
IN QUIET AFTER-MOMENTS TY SOMETIMES SPOKE OF THE-WORLD-OUTSIDE-OF-ALIPPON, AND THE-PEOPLE WHO LIVED THERE. HE SPOKE OF YOU OFTEN: THE-EMPEROR-WITHOUT-MORALS. HE TOLD US OF YOUR-PROBLEMS-WITH-BRISEN, SO WHEN WE DECIDED WE NEEDED YOU WE USED THE-STORY-TO-LURE-YOU.
PLEASE FORGIVE US; NEED DRIVES US. WE HAVE LOST-TY.
HEDD-AT-WERTH KNOWS WHERE HE IS BUT WILL-NOT DIVULGE THAT INFORMATION. WILL YOU HELP US FIND-HEDD? THEN HE WILL TELL US WHERE TO FIND-TY. IF YOU HELP US FIND-HEDD THEN WE WILL RETURN YOU TO-JAX, AFTER PUTTING HEDD'S-PENIS-ON-YOU.
OUR APOLOGIES RLO. TY ONCE-SAID THAT YOU WERE AS-BIG A PENIS AS HEDD BUT POSITRONIC BRAIN, NOT-UNDERSTANDING METAPHORS, INTERPRETED THAT STATEMENT TO MEAN THAT YOUR-PENIS WAS THE SAME SIZE AS-HEDD'S. EVEN-SO, IF YOU HELP US WE WILL RETURN YOU TO-JAX WHEN WE ARE-DONE AND PERHAPS GIVE YOU A- "GIFT" BEFORE YOU-LEAVE.
BUT FIRST WE NEED-TO HYPERWAVE YOUR FORCES AND TELL-THEM THAT YOU ARE-WELL, AND WILL-RETURN AFTER A-BRIEF RESPITE. THEN YOU CAN-HELP US FIND-HEDD. CAN YOU SIMPLY ORDER HIM TO RENDEZVOUS, OR MUST-YOU USE SUBTERFUGE?
WE WILL-HELP HOWEVER WE-CAN.
The Reich Chancellor read the message. "The Riechskonig will not be informed that he was the target of yet another kidnapping attempt," he said.
"Is that a good idea?" a senior officer asked, "keeping information from His Most Hedonistic Majesty?"
"I see no need to possibly anger the Reichskonig," the Reich Chancellor replied, "Besides, if it got out, then his brothers would no doubt seek revenge. The Periphery is relatively peaceful, for now. I, the Reich Chancellor, want to keep it that way.
"However, that doesn't mean I am not going to do something. Send in the yeoman on your way out. I have a message I'd like to send to Harold Hedd. That drunken so-called reporter has got some explaining to do."
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Harold Hedd was slumped in a chair blearily watching a slugball game.
"Why the hell did I tell Duckbutt that I was going on this assignment," he muttered as he scratched himself under his Hawaiian shirt, "He and Rnl would've done okay." Bored with months of survey work, Hedd had decided to insert himself into a Ringbone Gazette team that was covering a potentially dangerous assignment. Assuming the guise of a cub reporter, he figured it was a good chance to go back to his journalistic roots.
But it right now it was just more boredom. Delays by the ship the "Bone" ground party was supposed to embark on had forced him to spend weeks in a tiny cabin on board a chartered Lemite freighter docked in a seedy section of Jax's starport. Duckbutt's inane cheefulness was driving him batty. Worst of all, the nearest decent bar was a twenty-minute ride away on the colony's mass transit system.
The cabin's communication station beeped, indicating that he had a message.
"Ah, maybe those idiots have finally showed up!" Hedd grumbled as he tapped the 'accept' key.
The title bothered him a bit. "HAROLD HEDD - YOU'RE DEAD" was something he'd seen before in his somewhat checkered past. But he turned pale as he read the body of the message:
TOP SECRET *** TOP SECRET *** TOP SECRET
Harold,
It appears that H.M.H.M. was the victim of a kidnap attempt by a small herd of spec-op Robotic Pleasure Sheep(tm)! It seems that they wished to make contact with a certain individual named Ty Meup, and they seemed to think that you have him or know where he is and you're refusing to give them this information. So, they figured that they could snatch the Reichskonig in order to force your seemingly reluctant participation. Apparently they were the same group that sabotaged the Capellan system beacon.
Now, I know that you and my brother go back a long way. So, I'm willing to cut you some slack on this, but not much and not for long. I would strongly urge you to contact me within three solar days upon receipt of this message. I believe you have some explaining to do...
On the other hand, you may wish to disregard this message and not respond. That is your choice. If so, I will simply inform my brother, Ace, that a Krieger was almost kidnapped and *you* had something to do with it. So, I have only one question for you: Will there be a rock big enough, or far away enough, or hidden enough, for you to hide under?
Reich Chancellor Ozi Krieger
ISP APD & Commandant, ISP JAX
"Oh crap," Harold said as he felt his stomach drop to his knees. The last he'd heard, Ty was supposed to have been somewhere in Allipon. At least that's where Hedd was supposed to send the paychecks.
Running a hand through his long hair, Hedd thought hard. He'd promised Ty he wouldn't say anything. Oh, it had made great copy for the Ringbone Gazette when he dropped a few punny comments about getting the two parties back together. At least they seemed funny while he was drunk. But the farking sheep had his remarks seriously. And they'd gone after Rlo.
He made a decision. Hedd turned back to the keyboard and composed a short message to Ozi. After sending it off, he shrugged into his battered starcaptain's jacket and scrunched his way through the passageway. If he was going to "get it" by a host of pissed off Kriegers, he might as well be anesthetized beforehand. He banged on a cabin door.
"C'mon Duckbutt. We're going out."
"Where are we going Mister Hedd?" the Dralm asked as he reached for his coat, "What if the other ship shows up while we're gone?"
"They can wait. We're going to entertainment district and do something called a 'strip-club marathon'."
"But I don't look good naked," protested Duckbutt as they stepped onto the tarmac, "and I don't know how to dance, Mister Hedd!"
"You'll learn, my feathered friend, you'll learn. Somebody's gotta pay for the drinks. Wait- come back here! We're just going to look at some nude chicks and get drunk, okay? I mean, I'm gonna get drunk. You're the Designated Walker."
"Gee, Mister Hedd, it'd be an honor!" Harold Hedd sighed deeply as they headed for the mass transit station. Things couldn't get any more strange…
* * * * *
Finally, the next morning, Rlo awakened and got out of bed about 10:30. The usual bevy of beautiful Imperial Bedchamber Maids administered to his morning needs, laying out his clothing for the day, preparing his bath, scrubbing his back, drying him off, dusting him with a special concoction of ginseng powder and finely ground cinnamon.
After he dressed, he moved to an exterior room and prepared for a light breakfast of fried eggs, crunchy bacon, buckwheat flapjacks, Belgian waffles, grits, homefries, sausage gravy and biscuits, potato pancakes, hickory-smoked ham, a one pound ribeye steak and a small pyramid of rye toast and English muffins, all washed down with strong coffee, half-n-half, orange juice, and a sweet breakfast wine called, "Expresso Merlot" produced by his own winery, Burpenheeve Vineyards.
Half-way through his light repast he received a small entourage of bureaucrats, technocrats, military officers and his personal advisor, Larry the Lying Psychic. His morning briefing began.
As usual the smacking, slurping, and swallowing sounds drown out most of what is said, but Rlo stops in mid-spoonful when his ears hear the words, "Robotic Pleasure Sheep(tm)".
"Whotz dat youse sez aboot Sheep?"
"Well sir," said one of the bureaucrats, "there's a report from the Chief of Security that a number of RPS(tm) pieces were found in the palace last night and that a recording was retrieved. Would you care to hear it, Your Majesty?"
"Yea, shure. Gimme da tape."
The feeding continued, as did the reports, though none of them were heard by the Reichskonig, who finished his meal with a loud burp, dabbed at his chin with a silk napkin, jumped down from his highchair and headed out the door. He was followed by his shadow, Myron his manservant, and his pet skedbe, Phuzy. Heading straight for his office (which is really just another bedroom only in this one the bed is round and moves), he switched to a pair of red velvet pajamas with fluorescent yellow diagonal stripes and purple piping.
Slapping the tape of the recording into a machine built into the head of the bed, Rlo leaned back on a pile of oversized pillows and listened to the tape while gently scratching and petting Phuzy, is lying next to him on the bed. He listened to the recording, minus the last paragraph which had been edited out, unbeknownst to Rlo.
"So, dem Alley-pony-ians iz lookin' fur me help...and I jus' kno'd dat da Hedd was involved," murmured Rlo. He reached for one of the phones on the headboard.
"Yo, Sol, dis iz da king...yeah thanks...look, tell da portmaster to have my spaceliner towed out and prepped for a trip in about a week." He punched a button and is connected to another party.
"Hey, dis iz da king...yeah thanks...send a rep out to the IND Lemite's Pride, itz in da starport, and tells da captain ta send his 'guests', Harold Hedd and Mr. Duckbutt, over to da Palace. And makes sure he does it like yesterday. Toodles." Rlo returned the handset to the cradle and yells one word, "MYRON!"
The king's long-serving manservant, Myron, entered the room as only Myron can. Fast as a rabbit and groveling all the way.
"Yes, Your Most Hedonistic Majesty, how may I serve you?" Myron asks.
"Quit youse hopping...whutz da matter youse gotta use da terlit?"
"No, Your Extreme Pervertedness, I'm just excited to serve."
"Yeah, okay, well rite dis down so youse won't be furgetin'...I swear I gotta duz everything wid Major Domo gone. I don't know why I let dat boy go on vacation. Anyways, contact the Butlery and have them get me Secret Service peoples on da move. I be headin' out fur Allipon in a week or so and dey gotta get there aheada time and set up me Imperial Palace portable.
"I tellz youse, Myron, I miss da days when youse and me and Phuzy could jus' yank up stakes and go anywhere widout all this stuff and guys and stuff havta be followin' me and goin' wid me, and stuff. Tells 'em to get crackin' 'cuz I ain't gonna wanna keep Lord Jacine waitin' too long. So, youse got all dat?" Rlo inquires.
"Oh yes, Your Corpulent Benevolence, got it all: get your stuff, send your stuff, all your stuff will be ready," Myron responded with enthusiasm.
"Good fur youse, now get outta hear...beat it, scram, take a hike, hit the road, go on," The king replied as he lays back on a stack of pillows, and hit the "Pleasure Slave" button on his console...
* * * * *
So, this is where we are at. Rlo & Co. preparing to set off for Allipon.
Maybe with any luck, we'll get to Allipon before BSE-21 hits. Last I heard,
somebody scanned Petroom and couldn't find
any ores. Knowing
my luck, the new BSE will also be outta limes. The brave new frontier. Sigh...
The Bone's Home Office at IND Werth says they got a stack o' submissions just before we sent to press-time. Ol' Igloo Montana's been going nuts trying to keep order of it all, so I told him I'd use them up this issue.
Speaking of issues,,, looks like somebody in the Periphery has got a beef with the KZK, or at least they're trying to start one. For your info: one chicken is labled "Krieger" and the other is "Oberon". Hey, folks, I don't comment. I just print 'em. Well, except for Letters to the Editor:
Letters to the Editor
Hedd:
Are you really, really, sure that the Ringbone Gazette is up to 65 issues? You aren't just inflating things a bit, are you?
Slightly Skeptical
Well Mister Skeptic, the Bone is up to 66 issues now. And yes, there have been that many. Maddie Mallard (bless her feathery little heart) started the Bone with help from Father Larry (now our receptionist). If you'd bother to poke around the archive, you'll see some of the early stuff. I, or rather, my web-monkeys, will get the rest online sooner or later. With the exception of a 2-year hiatus, the Bone has been there with BSE.
Dear Ringbone Staff,
Long time reader; first time writer. The recent attacks by the RIP in ROC space have brought to light an issue that has been bothering me for some time.
How is it the RIP always seem to have a large supply of Myrships? The Nexus RIP were notorious for waging and winning space battles against the EKN, IMP and USA with fleets of up to 20-25 Myrships. However, nothing has ever said to the MYR concerning this issue. Now the RIP are at it once more and again using Myrships. And like before, the MYR are not being taken to task for selling ships to he RIP.
As a concerned Imperial citizen who has to live with the horror of RIP terrorism everyday, I find this is unacceptable.
It's common knowledge that various governments such as the FGZ, ZCS, FOE and even the IMP have armed the RIP in the past for political convenience or to keep them at arms distance. However, it is usually only a small number. The MYR seem to have made a career at it. Usually, when a Baseship or Man-of-War is used, the USA or IMP are the first out of the gate to take that government to task and question their selling ethics. I seem to remember shortly after the attack by the RIP on the USA in the TYR system that Star Admiral Morgan was livid and spouted revenge upon the RIP and anyone that harbored or supplied them with ships. Was that all just bolster? Is the famed Star Admiral Morgan nothing more then a sheep wrapped in wolfs clothing? Are the IMP and USA so dependent on Myrships that they must overlook the criminal activity of the MYR?
Is Imperial life so unimportant to our King?
Thank You
A concerned Imperial Citizen
Well, my dear Concerned Impie Citizen, I don't know what to tell you. As an owner of a Myrship, I can say I like 'em. You can put a whole buncha stuff in only thirty hulls. Means you can get into ROC space and the Nexus (duh).
Lots of people use them and lots of people buy them. Who knows, maybe somebody is buying them for the RIP? There's a whole buncha governments out there that favored the RIP. Matter of fact, there's at least one who's still supporting them. Why else would the RIP be in ROC space, except to do someone else's dirty work?
Ringbone editor,
I can remain silent no longer. As a ROC citizen, I am outraged at the recent invitation that decadent ruler King Rlo issued to that despicable pirate Graybeard. The ROC has recently suffered greatly at the hands of the RIP and that bastard King Rlo flaunts it in our face. How can he dare to offer comfort to a known ROC enemy? How can our government continue to do business with the Imperials as long as that bastard 'Rlo' is in office? Since he as come to power the CP has become cesspool of indecent behavior where even slavery is overlooked. Why does not Senator Cody 'say' something? Has he and the president sold out our beliefs? I'm so disgusted with my government that I would move if there were another human government worth immigrating too. But they all seem to be equally decadent. I can tell you one thing, if something doesn't change soon I'll vote for my dead mother in the next election before I vote Mr. Cody or Mr Dunbar again. They should resign their office in shame. If any citizen in the ROC starts a recall petition I'll be the fist to sign it.
Sincerely,
Evan Magilacutty
Gee- Mister Magilacutty, you part of Clan O' the Rock? If not, maybe you can join up with them as they head for the exit. Don't forget to tuck your tail between your legs first.
Seriously, Senator Cody has long upheld a set of beliefs about the evils of slavery. Now he and the ROC are under siege indirectly from somebody who doesn't like what he's saying. It's called 'terrorism'. Seems you fellows have more pressing things to do than worry about who the hell Rlo's dinner guests are. Like deciding whether believing fighting for what the ROC stands for is worth it, or rolling over and showing your collective underbelly.
Duckbutt,
Is it true? Is what that vile, slimy good for nothing bully of a Demon said true? Do those KZK types actually use humans as incubators for their Super Warriors? If this is true, this is an unforgivable sin on the part of the Kriegers. The Oberon's would never let them get away with selling humans as fodder. If this is true something needs to be done. I'm actually afraid to leave my shelter now for fear that I will be kidnapped and soled off to a bug. Not that Rlo would care. Neither he nor any of those Kriegers care about what we think or what happens to us. They just sit around in their Star Destroyers living high off the hog watching us poor slobs trying to eek out a living without ending up as human Incubator for the bugs. It's time for a change. Its time for the Oberons to rise from the ashes and take over. Down with Rlo the Demon slime. Space...Ace.
Sincerely,
Scared in Jax
Gee, Mister Scared... I dunno. KZK are supposed to use live hosts to breed Super Warriors, but then so do the SAM. At least that's what my encyclopedia says. But I'm not sure if humans from the IMP are being used. I'm not sure I'd believe a Demon neither. I know I don't want no Oberon running things. I met an Oberon once, on a blind date. Most of it is a big blur, but I do remember calling it a "making love with a Cuisinart" - Duckbutt
To the Editor, Ringbone Gazette:
I noticed the beacon message in Capellan. What is that about? Are some robotic pleasure sheep looking for you? Do you think they'd pay lots of stellars to find you?
Mister Greedie
Yo, Greedie! You're a bit too late, dude. Somebody already took care of the sheep, if you read the early part of the rag. But don't worry- next time someone comes looking for me, I'll point 'em at you.
Are you getting as tired of these ornament thingies as I am? Well, our advertisers kinda like them. Something about putting our readers in the 'holiday spirit". I think it's a euphanism for "open wallet". Onwards...
Rollo McAllister: Agent of the STC
Part 5: Trouble on Day Two
Synopsis: Newly-promoted Inspector Rollo McAllister and his longtime sidekick Swek are on assignment, taking an STC Negotiator to ROC Corona. However, things haven't gone as planned. There's an additional member of the negotiating team, who Rollo thinks is an STC special operative. Swek informs Rollo about his uneasiness with the assignment and warns him to "watch his back".
Swek's comment kept bothering me me throughout the evening meal. At first, I though it was mild telepathic radiation from the bridge, but quickly dismissed it. After a while I realized that my once-dormant Agent skills were the cause.
The meal itself was enjoyable. Marcus Aurelius Anstrom had assumed the role of host, selecting the food and adding a few culinary touches of his own to the life-support's programming.
"I hope you don't mind me playing around with your food dispenser," he said as he finally seated himself, "I carry around a data tape of recipes when I travel. I can change the programming back if you wish."
"Oh, that's okay," I replied, "matter of fact, I wish I had a copy of that tape. This is some of the best stuff I've ever had."
"Keep the one that's in the dispenser, my boy!" Anstrom grinned, "I have others. Plenty of things on there you will find useful." I looked up, wondering at the strange, slight inflection in that sentence. But the Negotiator had moved on to another topic.
Ms. Tevin Rai, our red-headed third for dinner, fiddled with her food and succeeded in looking bored. I sensed that she would rather have been out breaking kneecaps or something than sitting there with the two of us. Anstrom was oblivious to her. He talked about everything from archeological digs in the Transhole, to sled-dog racing.
"... so that's how Team Samms won. Amazing, considering Aeneas was the driving force behind the Lab's genetic research, and he'd been dead for over over four years." Anstrom leaned back and rubbed his stomach. "Those Star Wolves are wonderful creatures. I always wanted to have one, ever since I saw the Imperial Martian Brigade K-9 teams. Have you ever had any animal companions, Captain McAllister?"
"Rollo, please." I said for the tenth time that evening and began clearing the table, "Just the usual ones a kid has. No time for one now."
"What about your alien?" Rai asked. I kept picking up plates. I knew Swek was monitoring the conversation and I could sense his alarm at being mentioned. I was grateful he was keeping his thoughts under control. While he never mentioned it, I suspected he could broadcast much farther than he let on. If the genetically-modified Community was able to kill with a mind-blast, I often wondered what a true telepath could do.
"Oh, c'mon McAllister," she continued, giving me a side-long look, "it's not exactly a secret within the STC that Sweatso exists."
"His name is Swek," I said tightly, "and while he's an alien, he's not my alien. He isn't a pet or an animal companion. And I'll thank you to remember that." Rai smiled slightly as if she were secretly pleased to have scored one on me. See what I know? Imagine what other information on you I have locked away...
"I wondered who was driving this ship while you were entertaining us," Anstrom said, "Say, are we going to meet this Swek fellow? Xeno-sociology is one of my pastimes, you know." I felt a faint negative aura coming from the bridge: the feeling would've been overpowering in that small space.
"Sorry, Negotiator Anstrom," I replied, "Swek's a bit shy. He tends to avoid contact with people."
"Pity," Anstrom muses, " it would have been interesting conversing with him."
"No doubt," I said dryly. It would have been interesting to see if Swek could've gotten a word in edgewise.
Anstrom appeared to have wanted to talk some more. It must've been a joy for him to have a new audience. I would've liked to, but I had to get some sleep before I went on watch. I finished cleaning up, said my good-night to the pair and retired to my cabin.
It must be a
record! Five chapters in a row. Let's see if we'll get number six..
Probably as good a chance as our web monkeys finishing up another couple
of back issues in time for the new year. Maybe I shoulda kept that leather-clad
chick with the whip. Nah. They were beginning to enjoy the abuse.
Another cartoon from the same guy who sent the wolf-at-the-henhouse one. Like I said, I don't comment, I just print 'em. I figger you boys and girls are smart enough to have your own opinion. Well, mebbe not you AIS types. But that's a software bug- I mean, "feature".
Seems that a lot of the new stuff is making its way into BSE. First the ANTs, then this once. Sorry that it's a link, but we got it as an intecepted transmission and there's no other way to show it. Here it is. Besides, everytime you kids booted up this issue you'd hear the audio, and we all know there's some weak hearts amongst you, hmmmmm?
Ask Kinki: Advice to the Lovesick (or plain Sick)
This edition of "Ask Kinki" is being hosted by the Ringbone's own Mail Guy, Igloo Montana. Take it away, Iggy!
Dear Kinki, What is it with guys and ships? They always have to get the largest and most specialised ship. This guy I'm going out with just bought a new Cargo Carrier and immediately raced over to some AFT colony to get something called "an upgrade to Merchant D". Then he tells me that he doesn't have enough stellars to take me out for the evening. What gives? - Really Pissed Off
Well, R.P.O., you came to the right place to ask that question. If you'd asked that of Kinki, she'd have blathered something about "size issues" or "penis substitute" or something like that. I mean, she's okay, but you really got to ask a guy that sort of question.
I don't own a ship myself, but I have a part time job in the maintenance bays at the starport, so I pick up a lot of information. Guys like big ships because they can carry more stuff in them. See, their old ladies keep dragging their man's stuff out of the colony structure to make room for their own stuff. So where's a guy going to put it all? In a ship!
Dear Kinki; How come there's so few females active in BSE? - A. G.
Dear A. G.: You know, that's a really good question. I can count, what, maybe 8-10? There's Kinki, Dr Wo Man, Ma Krieger, Tami Keiger... hmmm, maybe less than ten. I forgot the name of that one Oberon, but her sex is debatable. Seriously, I guess the reason there's so few femalesis that there's so few people in BSE to begin with.
Dear Kinki,
Guess that's
about it from my end. By the time you read this, Rlo's space liner should
be almost to Alippon.
Ads & Stuff
Additions and updates, e-mail [email protected]. Put it to Father Larry's attention (we're trying to keep him busy).
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ROC Wanted Items: 2nd generation JE's and TE's will pay top price!! Korondite for purchase/pickup in the Capellan system. Pulse modification Level 2. Defensive ship mods. Enhanced shields, Permanent AMB's etc,etc If interested please contact: Ian Dunbar, ROC Defense Forces.
WCE Star of India will shortly be accepting contracts for transport of all manner of goods, with capacity for all but the most extreme of cargos. Contact LT Goethe Manstein, WCE Ship Star of India (88) or any authorized WCE agent.
SMS New Comte(1620) is on Dogleg, the center of it all. If there is something you want that is not on the market let me know, maybe I can get it for you, maybe not. LBCMs will be added soon. Low on stellars? Barter is available. Do NOT land without permission. Use Highport for market transactions. - Lord Tiberius Croft
Merchant E now available at AFT Benden Weyr (3686) on moon Pikoil , space square 1548 in Adamon (42) system in the Capellan Periphery. Contact this office [shazzola at juno.com] for fees, PA's and other arrangements. Desired items for exchange are: Fissionables (reg & cond), Fossil Fuels (reg & cond), Korondite, Stellars and morale boosting materials in no particular order of importance.In the event the prophecies bear reality, best to get your upgrade today to get the max benefit from the upgrade. - Trader Jess Wong
IND Werth is the best Free and Open port in BSE. Shop 'till you drop. Party 'till you drop! Sleep it off in any of our thousands of hotel rooms. Werth is the playground of the filthy rich and infamous. And never, ever a cover charge.
The MYR Want Your Business!! Myrrians are still building and selling Myrships (10-10-10) and Myrchant ships (1-30-2). Both these designs have the 100 mu/hull shift and are Nexus and Draconian Cluster friendly. Licenses available, as well as other items for sale and barter. - Der Laul, for the MYR.
IND High Point announces the availability of the following items: Survey Cruisers. - 500,000 stellars, Merchant "A" specialization - 500,000 Stellars. Just land your ship, pay the $$ and you get the upgrade. Come to the only colony in the Nexus offering Merchant Specialization! Coming Soon: MerchantMan. High Point is located in the Sierra system (332) at space square 1045
BSE Web Sites
The following are affiliation and special-interest sites for BSE. Additions and updates, e-mail [email protected]. Put it to Father Larry's attention (it gives him something to do).
The Bone would like to thank: