Floating peacefully among the clouds of the endless aether, is the proud island nation of WGARSia. A prosperous and peaceful place, it maintains this state of affairs through the able use of a large citizen militia, which has long served to beat back the lawless denizens of the aether who might otherwise take advantage of WGARSia's prosperity. Unfortunately, lawless denizens of the aether are never in short supply, and a large fleet has been spotted at long range headed straight for WGARSia.

There's a storm on the horizon, and it's only going to get worse before it gets better.

Let the Battle begin.

From here it looks like the enemy fleet is emblazoned with the insignia of the POOPites.

First Mate, bring me my brown pants.

A ship carrying vacationers from the twin RPGua cities (The Free State and the Guided Nation) carries two charming characters. Captain Scott Peter Bombadil Nikolai Farnsworth Tiberious Morpheus Goblinking, also know as Cap'n Scott, is the captain of the vessel. He has yet to show that he has any idea what he's doing. Anthony Wilson is a notorious bandit elf. Though he shows too much emotion to be a psychopath and is too social to be a sociopath, there is something definitely wrong with him. His hobbies include stabbing, stealing and seducing. It's honestly hard to tell whose the Abbot and whose the Costello here, but who needs the straight guy anyway?

While chilling on deck with his groupies, Anthony spots the dark ships of POOPtopian Empire. He heads to the wheelhouse to inform the captain.

"Yo, Cap! There seems to be-"

"Who're you?"

"... Anthony. I got on your boat. For vacation. You said I was a pretty cool guy. You were even gonna make me the godfather of one of your children. It was kinda weird since we just met."

"OH! Anthony! Right. Who're they?"

"My groupies. Various women that follow me around. Something about the bad boy vibe."

"Bad boy? You're bad?"

"Well, I'm considered an antihero. To be quite honest, you can't swing a dead cat nowadays without hitting one. Hell, the man who killed that cat isn't even called bad. See? Antiheroism. Besides, I told you when I got on board! I even killed most of your crew. In fact, that's when you brought up the godfather thing. Very wei-"

"What were you saying earlier?"

"Oh, some large, POOPy boats are nearby. They have weird things written on the sides, like 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'. They seem very serious."

"Well, I never asked, but I'll tell them one thing:"

The Captain presses a button, sending a large, laser cannon blast at one of the ships, destroying it.

"NOBODY IS SERIOUS ON MY WATCH!"

Sigh, a Gatekeeper's work is never done. Wow, it's been ages since I needed to use my chair... hope I'm able to knock off the cobwebs in time.

Awaiting orders.

I sense a disturbance in the... interesting...

)scanning( ###%%%%#%### #%## #%##%%%%## ###%%# %%%####%

)correlating( 4544769.2515525 7895532.2566811 54658211.5896457

)locating(...

}----+----{
}---+---{
}--+--{
}-+-{
}+{

(planet located)

(disturbance defined)

...

Ah... The Chair...

Wherever The Chair is, Funky Honky will be found...

You thought you could hide forever didn't you? After what happened last time.* Though, he may still not remember...or he reverted...

[A parasite cruiser is detached from the Virulent Disruption and sent to investigate... or incinerate.]


* "Last time" looks like it may finally happen soon.

//-->Galactic Empire Data Analysis #30495//

-@ 2457 Hours anomaly detected in upper atmosphere
-System: Sol
-Planet: Earth
-Hemisphere: North
-Exact Coordinates: Unavailable

-High Energy Pulse Signatures Detected [14 GW] -- Conclusion: Weapons Discharge, unknown variation: plasma cannons

-Live Satellite Feed: Offline

-Air Assets in locale: None

-Priority: Not of concern

UPDATE: Unknown vessel detected entering Solar System

-Heading: 184.75 degrees above the elliptic [Earth intercept course]

-Vessel exhibits bio-organic signatures, Conclusion: Living Ship

-Priority Alpha: Secure unknown vessel for study

-Analysis: insufficient forces in area to succeed with intercept

-Directive: Dispatch Pilot {Hunter} [Serial 20384] to Earth

-Orders: Received, pending fulfillment

//-->end transmission//

*{{Yo, your largeness!}}*, Dramsoal yelled at Zillatain.

*{{What is it Dram, and why are you yelling? Also, you're much larger than me. Or did you forget again? Your memory cores and quantifying layers giving up in your old age?}}* Zillatain thought back via the ether-cloud.

*{{Ha, ha. This from a walking freak-show that is six times my age... So there! Heh!}}*

Zillatain just waits.

*{{Alright, fine. I received an informative burst transmission from Platish.}}*

*{{A burst... So now he goes for stealth... It's times like this that I really wonder what they're teaching in the Navy. Reconnaissance of an unknown system, for which the one planet I've detected components that are from The Chair, and there just so happens that there is a battle going on with some small (standard) plasma weaponry on the same planet.}}*

*{{So I can space the crew then?}}* Dramsoal asks -possibly- mock eagerly.

*{{That can wait. Just open the burst-packets.}}*

Dramsoal sends the contents to the data console that Zillatain uses in the Forced Physics Integration research lab. Sier sits down at the console and views the message and all of the attached data.

"So, Delta-Commander Platish and his crew were the correct choice for this mission after all." Zillatain thinks out loud. The three Gwientee in the lab don't even look nor flick an ear or a tail in response. They are used to filtering out the muttering of the lone Gwientie on the ship. Hmm... So Funky is definitely on that planet, and is...apparently not doing anything. And he didn't even respond (involuntarily or voluntarily) to the signal I specified to be directed at him. And a battle or disagreement is occurring on the planet... Maybe he's a mercenary and awaiting orders from his backer. Nothing much would be surprising after what occurred.

Well, I do have to admit that Platish couldn't move as quickly towards the target and dampen the signature of the cruiser if he went into stealth immediately after jumping in nearby. But he is now nullifying the gravity distortion and all stray emissions, and has ensconced the cruiser into a moon around a gas giant after launching some (1728) self configuring micro-probes to gather data. Rechecking some data, Zillatain continues with sier's thoughts. Wonder what that nonnative ship they are tracking is going to do now. Most likely it won't be a threat. At least, one probe was able to sneak up behind it hiding in the noise given off by primitive engines and bonded to the ship. Probably best that it altered itself to an inferred-precision tracking probe and leave the liquid antimatter reactor alone for now.

*{{You're not going to let me space the crew are you?}}* Dramsoal mournfully asked.

*{{No. I also doubt that the civilians...or -especially- the marines would be all that happy with that.}}*

*{{That's easy, just spac--}}*

*{{Or myself.}}*

*{{... Fine. But one of these centuries you'll slip-up and agree with me!}}*

Standing up, Zillatain turns to Integration Researcher Jithel Nal Hashtonish. Sensing this, Jithel turns her amber eyes up to Zillatain's eyes. "Jith, I don't see any problems -or breakthroughs- so just continue following my outline. I'm going down to the bridge since something came up. I'll try to get back sooner than last time."

"Very well, Pramal Kien... But, ah...never mind. Sorry." Giving up, Jithel looks down.

"It's okay Jith. You know that I'm not going rip your head or an appendage off for asking me a question. So, come on, it's okay."

Dramsoal jumps in. "Or else, sier will do th--"

*{{Quiet!}}* "Go on Jith, it's fine."

Glancing back up, Jithel asks, "Ah, you know that you do not have to come here personally to check on the dry and mostly (very) unfruitful process. So why do you?"

"Hmm... Well, the short is that I like to check on things with my own eyes. Odd, I know. The long of it is...well, long. I'll tell you next time."

Embarrassed, Jithel adverts her eyes and goes back to the safety of her work. While the other two in the room (who are nearly identically colored twin brother and sister) glance at each other in disappointment at the same time, and then go back to work in unison.

Someday, I really should check and see if they're clones with one gender flipped... Hell, who am I kidding, no I won't. Organics...

Leaving the lab and heading to Zillatain's personal lift, Dramsoal pipes up. *{{You just want to torture the new(er) Captain don't you? I'll bring the hot irons and bean dip! Ooh, and the tail clamps! Can't forget the tail clamps.}}*

Zillatain ignores Dramsoal.

There is a pulse of energy, a rip appears in space, a hole in the very fabric of reality. For one second, physics is turned inside out, then things are righted again, save for one anomaly. A ship is there floating in space serenely as if it had been there for years, however it most certainly had not been there a few minutes ago. The vessel, classified as a Corvette even though it could out-perform several small Destroyers, had only two inhabitants, one of which was a construct of light and technology, incorporeal and unfazed by anything. The other was a creature of (mostly) flesh and blood, and was at the moment swearing uncontrollably at the AI.

"I don't give a damn about my orders, the next time we're about to jump and I'm in the head, I'd like a little warning. Three sonic cleanings later and I'm still not sure the smell is out." Said the (mostly) human, downing a shot in the ship's small bar.

"I'm sorry captain, but the orders came from the highest authority, we were to depart immediately for this system." Said the AI in a voice of infinite calm, it could not comprehend the concept of emotion or even thinking of delaying in carrying out orders.

"Whatever," Grumbled the man, pouring himself another shot. "Where do we stand?"

"Orbit achieved around system's eighth planet, Neptune, stealth systems engaged, no untoward attention detected and- really Captain?" It said as the man did a spit-take at the mention of Neptune. "You know the cleaning droids are already over-taxed with cleaning your quarters and now this?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, shut up." He said. "This is the solar system, the one I'm from?"

"Why yes it is," Said the construct. "Honestly, didn't you even read the orders?"

"No dammit, I didn't" He said. "All I got was 'commander, hyper-jump in seven seconds' and then all hell broke loose. Anyway, it's not as if it matters, I broke all ties with Earth a long time ago..."

The AI, not in the least curious about his past, continued. "As I was saying, no military vessels of the sort we are searching for have been spotted -that is our mission here, by the way- and the only in-system traffic is a slow-moving bulk freighter doing a course correction deeper in the system."

"Any anomalies?" Said the man, casting off his crude exterior at the mention of the mission and becoming the straight-up military person he really was at heart.

"Small micro-meteor swarm detected in system, near Jupiter and traveling on an outward vector, passive scanning reveals little about them, should I try active scanning?" The AI queried.

"No!" He said sharply. "Maintain stealth systems, and watch with passive sensors for anything out of the ordinary. And keep my personal fighter prepped at level three readiness"

"Yes, sir." Said the AI as the hologram faded away, it attention directed towards other parts of the ship.

No micro-meteors should be found that close to Jupiter, especially not moving on that vector, my guess is probes of some kind. He glanced down at his wrist-computer, reading his orders. Well, the ship's out there somewhere, watching and waiting just like us He smiled. Your move. He thought at the other ship's commander.

In the darkness of the jungle below lies a small stage. Behind the stage the inky blackness of the jungle closes in. Dark shapes move silently.

In front of the stage the seating is littered with discarded popcorn and empty bottles. On the stage surrounded by bottles, props, costumes and pieces of set a booze angel has been formed by the only player to be seen.

From the wings the sound of things falling is accompanied by a cloud of dust and a string bound manuscript which falls within arms reach of the prone form. To the soundtrack of clinking bottles the player's fingers find the script. A somewhat shakey hand brings the pages above the figure's face. Another hand joins the shakey pantamine and removes the dark glasses.

"End of run cast party and already we've a new show?"
"The role of Captain will be played by Steave? ... Works for me."

Steave brushes his shaggy black fringe out of his eyes and pulls himself to his feet.
One of the dark shapes detaches from the jungle and climbing overhead shines a spotlight down on Steave who strikes a majestic pose.

"Well it seems I have a crew, backstage though they may be. First up we need a scene change. From jungle to clouds it says here."

The darkness behind the stage starts to shudder with the movement of the backstage crew. Giant sails unfurl. Rotor blades start to rotate. The stage starts to rise from the ground as the darkness is revealed to be a massive airship of which the stage is but a small part.

"There are no small parts. Only small actors."
"Actually there seem to be no actors. I'm sure I'll need some"

The score calls for a reprise of the bottles clinking as the rest of the troop dislodge the debris and climb to their feet. A large cast of Steaves all in different costumes begin to read through their scripts.

"All the world's a stage lads and it's up to us to draw a crowd!"

As the ship ascends the curtains, two giant wooden panels, close.


"Now could someone put on some coffee ... and where are my emergency pants?"

On the far side of WGARSia, a lone figure lay swinging in a hammock, lazily sipping a margarita through a many-curved straw. Nearby, a small brownish cat batted her paws at a passing butterfly, while sunlight fell upon the vineyard beyond.

Suddenly the idyllic scene was disturbed by a muffled but insistent pinging sound.

Frowning, the man in the hammock set down his drink and reached towards the tree behind him, digging into the pocket of a longcoat hanging there. As he pulled out a small device, the pinging grew sharper until he hit a button to silence it. One glance at it told him all he needed to know... but he wasn't happy about it. "Damn it, I was retired!"

The cat looked up as her person swung his feet out of the hammock and stood up. "Well, Diamond... it seems that duty calls once again. Behave yourself."

As he walked back towards his villa, the man spoke into the device in his hand. "It's me. We've got POOPites en route, in attack formation. Yeah, a classic flaming pattern. Make sure the Folly is fueled and ready. Have the armory prepare a full load--CP, SW, WB, the lot. I'll be on base momentarily. Solo out."

"Anthony, what does that one over there say?"
"'Shooting in Arizona'."
"Hmm... I think I need that achievement," the Captain contemplates as he presses the button to blow that ship up, "who's next?"
"'Obama the Introvert?'"
"He sure will be after this!" The ship blows up.
"'I hate the President'."
"Hate's a strong word. But not as strong as this." He fires a missile, the ship blows up.
"'Children - First Casualties of Obamacare'."
"Now they're just making words up. And those children need all the care they can get after this!" He fires a missile, the ship blows up.
"'Will everybody just shut up about Sarah Palin already?'"
"Good idea! Let's start with you!" He fires a missile, the ship blows up.

I have to say, this invading fleet isn't really putting up much of a fight. I think I'm going to go have a margarita. You know where to find me if you need me.

Yes Funky, in the Jacuzzi/margarita. You really should try drinking out of a glass for a change.

*Beep-Beep*

"Captain?" The AI asked, its mechanical voice echoing throughout the confines of the ship.

"What is it?" He replied from the port-side observation deck. He was gazing out of the window at the starry view before him. He turned and tapped a control, lowering heavy armor plating over the vulnerable viewport.

The ship had been dark for seven solar days, quietly monitoring in-system traffic and staying out of sight. Currently they were lurking near Triton, a moon of Neptune.

"As I reminded you yesterday, the internal heat capacitors are approaching saturation." Said the AI calmly. "If we do not vent the waste heat, internal heat levels will rise to where neither my systems or you will be able to survive."

"I remember, dammit." The captain growled, heading through the corridors towards the bridge.

In order to 'go dark' as the military called it, several steps had to be taken. First, all main engines, shields, comm relays, and the external heat exchangers had to be deactivated to avoid detection based on their infra-red signature. Any heat produced by the vessel thereafter was stored in massive internal heat sinks. Next a powerful cross-spectrum dampening field went up around the ship which absorbed the signals given off by enemy sensors trying to detect them. Finally the ship's hull itself was painted in a way so that it barely reflected any visible light. While stealthed a vessel could move, but they had to use smaller engines with attached heat sinks to ensure that they went undetected. This made any travel incredibly slow while running dark. Also a ship could not remain in stealth mode forever, sooner or later it had to vent waste heat or risk cooking the crew alive inside of the ship.

"Very well then," The AI said calmly. "Then you should know we only have three hours and twenty-seven minutes until the heat sinks reach capacity. + or - half an hour to account for efficiency degradation."

"Anything on the observation channels?" He asked, reaching the split-level bridge and taking his seat at the command chair.

"Just as I said the last four hundred and three times you asked, no there is not." Replied the AI.

"Right then," Said the captain, pouring himself a drink from the chair's attached mini-bar. "Drop us into Neptune's atmosphere and fill the tanks, then we'll come back here and vent on the night side of Triton, hopefully they won't see us."

"Sir, this leaves very little time for discussion, we will be 'pushing our luck', so to say." Said the AI, with a trace of what sounded like worry.

"Well then we better get under way, then, shouldn't we?" Said the Captain leaning back with a shot of Brandaringaon Inferno-Whiskey in his hand. "Wake me when we get there."

Two and a half hours later the Corvette was touching down on the surface of Triton in the dark. Her tanks were full of gases harvested from a flyby through the Neptunian atmosphere. The gases were funneled into a specialized chambers where the heat from the heat sinks was added. The gases absorbed the energy, and changed form, glowing brighter and brighter, not bursting into flames for lack of oxygen. Finally they snapped and converted into plasma. The new plasma was then ejected out special ports located around the ship at intervals. They created luminous, mile-long streams of energy, bleeding heat out of the ship and melting all of the ice on Triton for miles around. This method was a quicker solution than re-activating the external heat-dissipators and allowing the heat to radiate into the vacuum. However it also made the ship's location shine like a Christmas tree to anyone who might be watching...