Tuesday, August 4

help us angry spaceman, you're our only hope...MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA

politics and me... we don't mix... i am usually unaware of who controls the government, how they get there, or what they are doing. this suits me just fine, as the less i know about them, the easier it is to flaunt their laws.

lately, though, this government and its actions have become inescapable. now i realize that there are certain practical concerns in governing so many different species spread out over such a vast distance, so a little bit of fascism is ok in my book. after all, fascists tend to be very narrow-minded, and if you don't look like what they currently hate, you can get away with practically anything.

what i do know about our government is that the pan-galactic congress, which everyone assumes is in charge, can't possibly be. imagine trying to get three friends to decide on where to eat dinner... now multiply those friends by squillions and change dinner to tax code and you can see why cramming every single intelligent species in a room with their own (admittedly) cool floating dais is a fucking bad idea.

so, i tend to keep my nose out of it. a lot of down here do. but a lot of rumors have been spreading around lately... power struggles... armed conflicts on far-away planets... some kind of insurgency taking control of key military and commercial locations. a lot of people seem nervous, which is really good business for the shack of beration.

it's not been so good, though, my other main source of income... fleecing tourists. most of the dumb, family oriented ones are scared shitless of the station being taken over, so the only visitors we get are either hard-hitting, shitbag fucktard reporters, who spend their entire time drinking at zargle's trying to find out which of us is part of the insurgency to interview us, starlclown richkid fucktards who are trying to find out which of us is part of the insurgency in order to join, government spies who are trying to find out which of us is part of the insurgency in order to arrest us, or insurgents who are trying to recruit us.

and all of them have good, strong bags that don't break, no matter how casually skip shoots a cutting laser at their seam.

in short, it's insurgency, insurgency fucking insurgency everywhere i turn and i am fucking sick of it. who cares who runs the show... it's irrelevant. let them fight, imprison, electrocute each other until abandon... one will be the same as the next. as long as they stay out of my fucking hangar everything will be fine.

which, of course, is exactly what didn't happen. last week, that fancy ship stopped by the station again. it now makes more fucking sense why they commissioned the bastard in the first place, and why they sent it out here first... to make us loyal... they must be brain-damaged. anyway, it stops by, and again, they shuttle in the unitarded wundertroops to the nice bits. and they sent their garbage shuttles to hangar 23. where they just dump their shit... literally, as the entire sewage reclamation system is fucked on their flagship... all over my fucking hangar. after hours of sifting we couldn' find one good thing in it. flapjack enjoyed himself, though...

so, skip is busy shoveling the shit into piles, i'm zapping it to extract the water and turn the turds into shitrocks and make it more portable for dropping down the trash chutes, which lead, naturally, to the power-stations. it's all incinerated anyway. once in a while if the robots down there are on strike (it gets fucking hot from the plants) the garbage backs up... no big deal... just lob a grenade and it usually dislodges whatever is down there... there is also an escape vent that leads to the outside, so the fumes and other nasties can get shunted that way rather than back up the miles and miles of garbage pipe and into the nice people's bunks.

so skip and i are dumping the shit-rocks and they are piling up... i can hear them not falling as far as they should... so i grab a couple boombooms and chuck em down there... flames shoot out, which is awesome, and the shits gone... but now we hear noises... fuck me... look down and there's this now charred, ex-shiny looking, banged up robot, desperately clinging on to a limp body and trying to claw its way up the shaft.

only one of those insurgents could be stupid enough to climb up a garbage chute. clearly, this moron has never been in space before. anyway, i'm not having any of this insurgency shit and call for more grenades. skip tells me there are none... the bastards are nearing the top... this is bad.

we start throwing down pipes, rocks, boots, empty containers... no luck. this fucking robot is protecting its ward very very well. dinged up or not, it's fucking tough... skip is a little jealous.

now they're up. the robot places the man on the ground and looks at us. we look at it. its lights fade up and down...
after a little scanning, i assume, the robot starts playing a message...

'greetings from the underground. your brave and heroic actions have deemed you worthy in our estimation fo join our noble cause and fight the pangalacticists...'

maybe we did damage the poor bastard after all. the message goes on for a while, detailing lots of their plans, their leaders and so on. this is really fucking bad... caught with these fuckers, captain spacefuck would chuck is in the brig for a long fucking time. we need to act.

the robot keeps blathering on and the man is motionless. i have skip distract the robot as i bash the man in the head a few more times, hopefully giving him some significant brain damage, or at least a little amnesia. i'm not about to kill him... yet.

as skip is communicating with his counterpart, i manage to sneak up on him with a fucking spacewhale prod and zap him where it counts... he goes down. we open him up, pull out his memory and hide it inside of skip... only safe place, as the law says you can't open up a robot without its permission.

we get flapjack to bring the now (hopefully) braindamaged man to the robodocs, the kind that don't ask any questions. the robot is placed in a storage bin until i can figure out what to do with him.

shit's gotten a lot worse... which could be very, very good for us... or very bad...

No comments:

Post a Comment

what the fuck is your problem?