Well, I'd be damned if I was gonna let him get away!
"LAURA, WHERE'D WE LEAVE TOOKIE? Dammit, I should have just shot him when I had the chance! Scheming little booger!" I kept yelling something like that the whole time I was trying to get out of that blasted duck-pond. I wasn't gonna do the whole run-through-glass-and-jump-out-a-window thing though, so I ran for the front door. Someone got in my way. "Sorry!" Well, was in my way, but I decked him. (her?) Then I tripped over said person, but I was by the checkin counter. What the...Who brought a knife...'Taipan'. Whatever, it works. It was sharp though, and made short work of the dress.
A collective gasp went up, but I guess most people don't expect a bride to be wearing a bulletproof vest and combat harness. (What? I worked for the government, for Zark's sake) Laura was waiting by the door, holding Tookie's hatch open, and I dived for it. "GO! GO! GO! Get a fix on Bert already, let's goooOOO!" That last bit went up a few octaves because Laura floored it. Note to self: Stop letting the robot drive.
Zealot Wrote:Just go play the game and have fun dammit.
Treewyrm Wrote:all in all the conclusion is that disco doesn't need antagonist factions, it doesn't need phantoms, it doesn't need nomads, it doesn't need coalition and it doesn't need many other things, no AIs, the game is hijacked by morons to confuse the game with their dickwaving generic competition games mixed up with troll-of-the-day.
Malaclypse stood speechless, alone and rather drenched in the deserted wading pool. The intitial shock on the audience was beginning to wear off, and the mood looked like it could turn from festive to ugly at the drop of a hat..
"...but... I don't.. all the portents were right.. Friday.. a Discordian holiday.. the 23rd.. a sacred number.. the caterers even removed all the buns from the hotdogs.."
Mal looked again at the crowd, and shouted to get their attention.
"Please, guests! Remain calm! I'm sure this will be resolved. Don't leave yet. We'll take a small intermission while the happy couple works out their.. issues. Help yourselves to the buffet in the rear, and bear with me while I try to get an update on things!"
Mal waded out of the pool, kicking ducks asunder, and went to find some dry clothing. "Well, that little bugger does things original, at least. I believe he just discovered a 51st Way!"
Someone by the name of Fark Mcgeezax responded, "Um... I am."
"Good!" Brakelatabasaasta said. "Escort me! Where are you? Come to me!"
The two met up at Fort Bush, and Brakelatabasaasta explained things to his escort. "So I need you to get me out of New York, out of Liberty entirely! There's just one problem, though..."
"Oh yeah?" Fark asked, "And what's that?"
"The LPI-people put a chip-thing in my neck. They know when I enter a megic-metal-whoosh-gate!"
"A... what?"
"Err... jump-claw?" Brakelatabasaasta said.
"Oh, a gate, you mean? A jump gate?" Fark asked.
"Yeah!" Brakelatabasaasta confirmed excitedly. "That! Can't use it!"
"Well then," Fark said, "I have an idea. Follow me."
Through the whole ordeal, Vixen remained entirely quiet, and still...as other members of the crowd started to stand, she still sat, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened.
Another mental notice drew her out of her trance, namely Mal's shout, and she stood. Walking slowly to a table in the back, she nudged a piece of broken glass with her foot, and frowned. that one has a broken mind... she thought to herself. Recovering a glass of wine, Vixen sat, and took a deep sip, before withdrawing to the Meeya-Wildcat, and, through it, the Neural-net. She'd return to reality when someone addressed her, or when the bride and groom returned to the place...
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
Brakelatabasaasta and Fark Mcgeezax cruised through open space in the Colorado system, heading for the Kepler jumphole. Brakelatabasasta had further explained to Fark just why he couldn't use jumpgates.
"The LPI keep me in New York. They say it's so they can keep an eye on me," Brakelatabasaasta had said. "So they put this chip in my neck that talks to the jump-claws and whines whenever I go through one. Then a bunch of Police-guys come and go all 'Grr! Get back in your pen! Rah rah rah!'"
So Fark had assumed--and correctly so--that the device in this man's neck would not react to the naturally-occurring jumpholes. He led his client though to Colorado and they continued from there.
"So I don't think I ever got your name," Fark said.
"I'm a Brakelatabasaasta," his client replied simply. "And this is Bert the Starblazer."
Fark wasn't sure he'd heard the man right. "You're a what? And... what?"
"My name is Brakelatabasaasta," he repeated. "My full name is Brakelatabasaasta Feed Me. And this Starblazer's name is Bert. He doesn't have a full name, I guess. Except for Bert. Bert the Starblazer."
Fark didn't respond to that, and decided to change the subject. "So, why're you going up to Kusari anyway? What's up there for you?"
"I'm going to Kusariland to meet the Emperor!" Brakelatabasasta answered.
"Meet the Emperor, huh? Just like that?" Fark asked.
"Yup. Just like that," he said. "How hard could it be?"
"Oh, I think you'll find it to be rather hard..." Fark trailed off. "Here. Closing on the jumphole. Get ready to jump."
Fark and Brakelatabasaasta dropped out of cruise and slowly aproached the swirling anomaly of light. Fark went though first, and Brakelatabasaasta witnessed his escort's fighter being stretched and compressed inside the hole before disappearing entirely. Bert soon followed.
A blinding flash, and a long, winding tunnel of light appeared before Brakelatabasasta. Bert was pulled forward at an incredible speed, twisting and turning with each bend of the passage... and then it was dark again.
Brakelatabasaasta was inside the dark, dangerous clouds of the Kepler system, with Fark not too far ahead. Lights flashed on Bert's console, indicating the high levels of radiation present in the system, monitoring the integrity of the tiny Starblazer's hull. Brakelatabasaasta had been here once before, years ago, with one "Winky-man", so he knew what to expect.
"We're in the cloud now," Fark's voice came over the intercom, "But stay close to me and we'll be out soon."
Brakelatabasaasta formed Bert on his escort's fighter, and the two travelers carefully navigated the asteroids, making their way to the next jumphole...
We got off-planet just in time to see Bert's mustache vanish into the scrapfield. I finally got Laura to stop flying before we became a part of the field, but she started whining until I turned her off. I'd miss the chatter, but it's better than getting mashed on some giant bit of metal. Oh yeah! I called Frankly-thing-bob, 'cuz he's good at that kind of thing, and he said that Brakky was going northish. Sort of, but he objected to something about the whole deal, so I yelled at him to get in his mini-Bert and come with me.
Brakky was getting ahead of us! My friends on Rochester said they saw him going towards Colorado, so off we went! Hot pursuit! WEE-oo WEE-oo WEE-oo!
Zealot Wrote:Just go play the game and have fun dammit.
Treewyrm Wrote:all in all the conclusion is that disco doesn't need antagonist factions, it doesn't need phantoms, it doesn't need nomads, it doesn't need coalition and it doesn't need many other things, no AIs, the game is hijacked by morons to confuse the game with their dickwaving generic competition games mixed up with troll-of-the-day.
Malaclypse had traded his ceremonial Robes for his old, threadbare mauve lounging jacket. He took a moment to compose himself in the small dressing room, checking his datapad for new messages, and transcribing a few notes and responses.
Doc: Virulan Enclave meeting concluded. Possibly basing at Sedona until ZA responds.
no problems there.. There were enough strange "campers' in Baffin already..
Linus: New escort fighter commissioned. Proceeding to Baffin.
Ah, good. With increased trade to the Council, more escorts would be essential.
Note: Schedule possible discreet meeting with.. Diederick Grave. Review status.
The supply of "C'tan" treats might no longer be adequate to maintain the status quo... bugger!
NeuralNet Account Status: Transfer to Cabulb, Felix, still pending.
What? An honest corporate goon? Remains to be seen.. Touch base.
Mal logged off, and returned to the main Chapel. A number of folk were still milling about, sampling the buffet and wet bar, and opining over the unexpected ending to the Ceremony. A brief survey indicated that the mysterious Mr. Drake was no longer there. He then noticed another of the intriguing guests.
He moved to the buffet, and filled two plates. He hesitated a moment, and then made his decision, moving forward to sit next to the beautiful pink-furred creature in the black coat. He offerred her a plate.
"Interesting bunch, primates. Can't say as I'll ever understand them myself, even being one, and leading a number of them myself. Care for some victuals, Madame?"
Keller walked into the wedding in the powered suit he always wore to public procedings. He wasn't one to reveal his identity to anyone, even at a wedding. The suit's name on the chest red "Commander J. Keller" and on the back was the tell tale phoenix symbol of the Children of Conviction imprinted in the metal. Two other men were with Keller, also in suits standing behind him.
"I still don't see why we're here, Petrov." Keller said.
"Because it's a wedding!!" Petrov replied, Keller could be heard gritting his teeth inside his suit helmet.
"You're lucky I don't snap your neck, Petrov." said the other on Keller's left. "I think you just dropped my own IQ by at least 10 points with that statement..."
"Give it a damn rest you two." Keller said.
"Yes, sir." he replied.
"Petrov, find us a seat somewhere around here, I don't want to miss this damn 'wedding' you are so damned excited about."
Vixen 'woke' suddenly, jolting out of her sleepstate. "Mmh? No thanks..." She said.
"I am in no condition to eat at the moment...my health is...not what i would like."
She sipped her wine.
"I only need to eat rarely, and i only do in my better moments..."
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
"I see, Vixen. Well, here's wishing you better moments in future. We could all use a few about now."
With that, Mal excused himself and went to the rather formidable looking new arrivals.
"Powered armor at a wedding, gents? And I've been accused of having abominable fashion sense!"
He waggled the rejected spare plate of food in front of the central figure's "face". "I'd offer you some delicious food, sir, but I don't see how you'd cram it into your piehole with that ridiculous garb on..."
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