Friday, May 6, 2011

Commander Kilfry Versus the Day-Fist Ninjas

The heady twang of pneurophonic alarm bells scythed through Kilfry’s cranium as the crew of the Guilty Seamstress sprang to life. Crewman with panicked looks charged past him as they went about manning their posts throughout the Seamstress’ bridge. Warning lights cascaded across the warmer ranges of the colour spectrum as Kilfry blinked placidly from his command chair and squinted through the ensuing chaos around him.
“Whassat?” he mumbled dozily to no one in particular.
“Sir!” barked Communications Officer Poultice whilst frantically pressing buttons at his console, “It’s the cargo bay, sir! It’s been breached!”
Commander Kilfry stared at Poultice thoughtfully as he scratched his shadowed jaw.
“What?” he asked again blankly.
Why did they have to make the Captains chairs on board Tango-Class Interstellar Transport class vessels so damn comfy? Kilfry thought to himself as he yawned languidly. It’s the built in foot-spa that really puts you off-guard…
“The cargo bay, sir!” asserted Officer Poultice as he began fervently winding a nearby crank of undisclosed function. “The prisoners! They’ve… broken loose…”
Kilfry’s brow narrowed.
He gritted his teeth resolutely and took his feet out of the mineral-essence spa treatment custom designed to soften his cuticles.
“The Day-Fist Ninjas…” Kilfry growled heatedly under his breath as he stood up. “Quantum help us all.”
Kilfry yanked his combat boots on hastily and stormed over to the weapons locker as the bridge crew darted and shoved around him. He gleefully eyed the array of high-tech killing machines before him.
“Let me see…” Kilfry mumbled happily to himself. “Pneuronic-Suspension Rifle? Too easy… Distended-Laser Falchion? Ack, it’s purple! Gay… Ahh, here we go…”
Kilfry hoisted the Light-Cutter Assault Arm out of the closet and hooked it over his shoulder. The device’s pneumatic harness hissed and clicked as it locked itself into place.
“Bad. Fucking. Ass,” Kilfry remarked to himself as he squinted down the length of the cybernetic weapon.
The Light-Cutter Assault Arm was essentially a terminally-fast buzz saw attached to a mechanical shield arm, and was originally designed for mining expeditions on stars. The 3-foot wide circular saw in the machine’s mechanical hand sported quasar-lanced blades, specially treated so that they could cut through higher-dimensional constructs such as heat, light, or even laser-blasts. Add to this the fact that the arm provided a rudimentary prismatic-energy shield to the wielder, and the Light-Cutter Assault Arm was a photon-rifle’s worst nightmare.
Kilfry tensed his sweat-caked fingers deep within the mechanical death-apparatus. The buzz-saw flashed and whirred to life.
“Prepare to suck the captain’s log,” he announced proudly to no one in particular.
Communications Officer Poultice eyed Kilfry uncomfortably.
“Go fuck yourself, Poultice,” Kilfry called over his shoulder as he jogged away from the bridge. “You wish you’d thought of that line…”

Kilfry suspected he was in the midship, but it was hard to be sure.  The corridors down here all looked the same, and the holographic deck maps were really hard to read. He hadn’t seen anyone for some time now. Approximately ninety percent of the crew were currently piled into the evac-shuttles, awaiting further instructions due to the ship’s emergency status.
As for the Day-Fist Ninjas…
Kilfry knew all too well that those trained in Day-Fist ninjutsu would only be found if they truly wanted to be. Wandering around aimlessly and hoping to run into them was essentially like looking for a hypodermic in a bio-organic chaff pile.
Day-Fist ninjutsu was a well guarded secret. The seamless blend of their intense physical training, their practiced slight of hand, and their clandestine technological superiority made them feared throughout the galaxy.
It was said that they were faster than light. It was said that they could hide in the bright of day, and that they burnt through their foes with the fury of one-thousand suns. No one had ever caught one of them, until now.
And now, they had three of them.
Three of the universe’s most deadly assassins, stalking the ship that was once their prison, thought Kilfry to himself despondently. Maybe it’s not too late to find an evac-pod…
Without warning, Kilfry’s Light-Cutter Assault Arm whirred to life.
Kilfry gritted his teeth as the automated defence function took hold of the assault arm’s rotary motors, and he felt it lash out sharply to his right. He felt the high-velocity spinning blade connect, and closed his eyes to brace himself for the counter-attack.
There was a thud.
Kilfry opened his eyes and blinked.
He looked around uncertainly.
The Day-Fist Ninja was lying on the floor.
On either side of him.
Kilfry squeamishly stepped out of the blood that was rapidly pooling from the two pieces of ninja.
That was incredible! Kilfry thought to himself excitably. It was as if that guy came out of the nowhere…
The Light-Cutter Assault Arm interjected Kilfry’s train of thought with a punctuated automated seizure.
Kilfry’s eyes widened as he spun around.
With a crack, a second Day-Fist Ninja’s foot punctured the mechanical arm’s carapace before vanishing in a flash of halogenic light. Kilfry’s weapon moaned dejectedly as he staggered backwards from the blow. He nursed the wounded weapon with all the tenderness of an opiate-riddled lover.
“You’ll pay for that, ninja-face…” Kilfry growled as he soothingly patted the robotic arm.
With renewed resolve, Kilfry widened his stance and pivoted his gaze up and down the ship’s corridor.
And then he saw it.
Like a ray of light, the Day-Fist Ninja struck.
Kilfry’s light-sensitive gauntlet responsively snapped out, clipping the second ninja. As his lightning-quick opponent thudded heavily to the metal floor, Kilfry contorted his body to press the attack. Running up the corridor wall, Kilfry back flipped through the star-ship’s low-gravity field and, with the all the poise of a deranged emu, brought the buzz-saw down on the head of the prone criminal.
The whirring blade let out a wet, meaty crunch.
“Two points to Commander Big-Dick,” Kilfry said informatively. “Suck it, flesh-puppet.”
Kilfry felt the assault arm split apart with a tearing metallic roar. He fell backwards as the weapon collapsed away from his shoulder in one smooth, crushing blow from the third and final Day-Ninja. He felt the ligaments and musculature in his biceps snap, and howled out in pain.
“One point to me,” hissed the ninja standing over him.
Kilfry panted as he eyed the high-tech martial artist up close. The ninja was entirely covered in a red-tinted polymer body armour of some sort, though the armour refracted light at its edges as though it possessed some rudimentary personal-cloaking technology.
The ninja stared down at Kilfry through a hooded crack in its visor. Kilfry’s pulse pumped heatedly from his rapidly haemorrhaging arm as a faint red light flashed from deep within the ninja’s armoured suit.
“Any last requests before I kill you?” the ninja snarled as it extracted a long, metallic bladed implement from its belt.
Kilfry’s eyes flashed around nervously.
“Can you tell me…” he panted wearily, “Where the fuck are we on this piece of shit ship?”
The ninja snorted.
“You don’t even know that?” it asked condescendingly. “And you’re in command here? Pah… We’re on Crew Deck 9. The starboard quadrant.”
Kilfry slammed his wrist communicator against the ground in a desperate attempt to activate it.
“Officer Poultice!” he shrieked in an ungainly manner. “Open all airlocks on Crew Deck 9!”
The Day-Fist Ninja stared at him mutedly.
“Th-That…” it stammered “… that would kill you too.”
Kilfry winked happily.
As the vacuum rushed in, both Kilfry and the surviving Day-Fist Ninja were pulled off their feet. Amidst the storm of debris, corpses, and ninjas, Kilfry felt his fragile human bones shattering as they were consistently smashed throughout the tunnelled maze of Crew Deck 9. As unconsciousness took hold, Commander Kilfry consoled himself with another mission well-done…

The stasis pod opened with a hum.
Kilfry yawned happily and looked around, to see the stoic face of Communications Officer Poultice.
“Good job, Poultice!” Kilfry said encouragingly as he grabbed him by the hand. “We did it! We defeated the ninjas! Hope it didn’t take you long to find my body and recover my consciousness-pneumonic.”
“Six months, Commander,” said Poultice dryly. “General Sectus commissioned the Seamstress for the task personally.”
Kilfry nodded happily.
“Excellent!” he lauded happily. “Though I’ve got to confess, clone-bodies always take me a few months to break in. It’s like wearing a codpiece that’s shrunk in the wash… But you seem distracted, Poultice. Is something wrong? Why so glum, my friend?”
Poultice starred at Commander Kilfry in mute disbelief.
“Are… are you serious?” he asked finally. “Aside from wasting six months of my ship’s time, you killed several hundred passengers and crewmen in your stunt back there! Aside from which, you weren’t even supposed to kill the Day-Fist Ninjas! General Sectus wanted them alive, remember?! They were the only Day-Fist Ninjas that have ever been caught!!”
Kilfry nodded and pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“Is General Sex-Less pissed?” he asked tentatively.
Poultice sighed and hung his head.
No…” he conceded angrily. “When I last talked to him, the old fool seemed to have… forgotten the whole thing…”
Kilfry winked and gave Poultice a peace sign.
“V is for ‘victory’,” he informed Poultice happily before plonking back down in the stasis pod. “Now, go fetch me some pornography. I have some breaking in to do.”

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Commander Kilfry Versus the Future Man

The soft, steady thrum of the rotary fan high overhead punctuated the tense silence of the abandoned awesomite silo. Kilfry felt the crisp crunch of residual crystals grinding underneath his combat boots as he crept forward through the maze of galvanised tubing.
Humanity had long since forgotten the awesomite boom some several hundred years earlier. Kilfry was amazed that structures like this still existed, deep beneath the winding pneuro-communication conductors and the hydro-electrical ducts supporting the civilised world high above. Awesomite was a man-made compound that had highly anomalous energetic qualities. One pound of refined awesomite contained enough raw power to maintain single domestic household for a year. Unfortunately, awesomite also had a tendency to release unpredictable bursts of highly mutagenic omega radiation. Sadly, no-one had been aware of this fact until the awesomite silos had all simultaneously turned critical ten-years into the awesomite craze. The ensuing plague of mutant rats and city council workers had been utterly devastating.
As the sulphurous smell of sterilisation agents wafted through from the bowels of the silo Kilfry did his best to block his nose with the photon pistol in his hand.
At least the residual awesomite here has been neutralised, thought Kilfry with relief. Although, I have always wanted a third penis…
As Commander Kilfry steadily pressed deeper through the abandoned industrial storage facility, he reflected on the wild adventure that had brought him here; his daring rescue of the Royal Vizier from the exploding Pneurophonic Symposium Centre, his gritty shakedown of numerous lowlifes from back-water dives and seedy bars, his brief but highly sensual sexual encounter with not just one but two women, who had been nice enough to only charge him half price.
This case has proved to be quite the web of intrigue and deception, Kilfry conceded as he absent-mindedly licked the barrel of his energy weapon. It would make an excellent movie, or perhaps a short story, as long as attention was given to the more exciting aspects of the journey, and is not wasted on long internal soliloquies or unimportant personal observations.
Kilfry nodded thoughtfully to himself as he passed into another large, echoing chamber of the silo. A chlorosustainant light source broke the gloom high overhead, its beam consistently severed by the rotations of another humming ventilation fan. The light danced eerily around the inside of the large metallic coffin, creating pockets of gloom around the starry refractions of glittering awesomite particles.
“So, you finally found me, eh Kilfry?” croaked a husky voice from a shadowy corner of the storage chamber. “I’ve waited for this moment for some time…”
Kilfry’s photon pistol whipped out as he took aim at the shadow-cloaked stranger. The Commander desperately squinted through the dim-lighting of the underground chamber, doing his best penetrate the nefarious villain’s veil of darkness.
“So…” Kilfry enunciated carefully. “You must be the one who planted the bombs? The criminal mastermind who has been terrorising the city? You must be… ‘the Future Man’?”
The shadowy puppet-master chortled hoarsely to himself.
“I don’t know that I must be…” he confided slyly. “But yes. I am.”
With a loping, hunched gait, the strange man stepped into the light.
Commander Kilfry gasped.
“B...” stuttered Kilfry in shock. “… Badmoo?”
The Future Man cackled and raised his arms triumphantly.
“Yes!” he hissed villainously. “It is I! Your trusted friend and partner…”
“Sidekick,” interjected Kilfry pointedly.
Badmoo seethed quietly for a moment.
“Yes…” Badmoo muttered agitatedly. “Yes, I am the villainous mastermind, ‘the Future Man’.”
“But you’re an officer of the Intergalactic Defence force!” Kilfry exclaimed in impassioned tones. “You and I are the only two officers of the Intergalactic Defence force! We have untempered respect and financial backing from the entirety of the human race! Why the fuck would you thrown that away?! To blow up a few cultural landmarks?? I mean… Look at you! You look like shit, dude!”
Badmoo pulled his rat-skin cloak more tightly around his shoulders and combed his long, matted brown hair back carefully.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Kilfry…” the Future Man told him dismissively. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the pain of playing second fiddle to a moron. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the futility of a life spent in stasis, with zero promotion prospects. I mean, there’s a good chance that neither of us will ever age or die due to the technological advancement of our species. We have been protecting the human race for over two hundred years now! Two hundred fucking years!! Did you know that the government won’t let us retire?? I tried! They said that they’ve ‘invested too much time and money in preserving our physical wellbeings’… Bastards…”
Badmoo sighed wearily and hung his head.
“I couldn’t handle another two hundred years of it, Kilfry,” he confided. “No… I’m going to fix the world! I’m going to give us a better future!”
Kilfry examined the hunched form of the Future Man in disdain.
“And your future involves not showering, and systematically mashing baked-beans into your teeth?” Kilfry asked squeamishly. “Where the hell did you get baked-beans from anyway? I haven’t seen those in years… And why aren’t you wearing any clothes??”
Badmoo cackled maniacally and flung his vermin-skin cloak back.
Kilfry averted his eyes modestly.
“My future is the future of all things, Kilfry!” shrieked the Future Man. “Entropy and decay is the true nature of all things! Not even the technological might of the human race can resist it! Buildings will crumble! Cities will fall before the ravages of time! Look upon me, and behold the future!!”
Kilfry fired off a searing photon beam into the Future Man’s exposed genitals. With a whimper, Badmoo collapsed on the ground.
“I’ve neutralised the terrorist,” Kilfry announced into his wrist communicator. “Send in the retrieval team.”
Commander Kilfry strolled over to the prone form of Ex-Lieutenant Badmoo and shook his head disdainfully.
“So… after orchestrating all those sequential terrorist attacks across the city,” he asked, “You really didn’t have a plan to deal with me when I finally tracked you down?”
“I’m more of a ‘long-term’ strategist than a tactician,” the Future Man murmured into the cold metal floor of the silo.
Kilfry nodded thoughtfully as he rested a foot on Badmoo’s back and extracted a cigarillo from his belt.
“By the way,” he said conversationally as he lit the tip of the small cigar with a photon blast, “I fucked your sister.”


Sunday, April 17, 2011

Commander Kilfry Versus the Singularityger


Kilfry pressed his back against the warm ionised-polycarbonate of the city’s infrastructure and wearily dug his photon pistol into his eyebrow. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a momentary respite as the photo-static street lights and chlorosustainant pod beams flashed through the airways several hundred feet above his head. Not many people of his social standing came down into the bowels of the Aeropolis anymore, and for good reason, Kilfry reflected.
The floor was evenly coated with a thick, viscous brown tar down here, not to mention the intermittent garbage littering the ground, dropped from the heady heights of modern civilisation. The tar resulted from the biodegradation enzymes that washed through the lower levels every day and broke down any unrefined garbage in their path, ever since the city had unanimously decided that anything lower than thirty-feet off the ground was officially a toilet. Though the degraded trash would eventually sluice through the flood grates and into the lower aqueducts, right now it was coming up to Kilfry’s mid-calf, and was giving him the strong urge to vomit.
Scoomer slopped through the muck as he charged around the corner, spraying Kilfry’s uniform with tar particles before ungraciously slumping against a nearby wall.
Kilfry looked down at his sullied dress uniform coolly.
“You are a total dick,” he informed Scoomer unhappily.
Scoomer winced apologetically as he panted, his eyes swimming wildly in their sockets.
“Sorry… Commander…” he gasped desperately. “Sorry…”
Kilfry narrowed his eyes at the young, manky-haired tracker.
“So, do you have a bead on this thing, kid?” Kilfry asked him as he played with the intimidation-mechanism on his photon-pistol.
The mechanism didn’t do anything other than making a ‘chk-chk’ noise, but it was important to have something to have something to do with your hands, and the military discouraged smoking and masturbation.
Scoomer’s eye twitched as he sniffed the air and licked his lips.
“I’m sensing…” the tracker told him carefully. “I’m sensing… Poop. We’re standing in poop. And… there’s a special sale on pod pneurophonic systems, six blocks from here. We can make it, if we leave now…”
Kilfry grunted disdainfully.
Scoomer had proved to be less than helpful so far.
He was a multi-medium.
This meant that he had a vast array of extra-sensory perception at his disposal, through a combination of mental training and neurological enhancement technologies. Scoomer had the capacity to simultaneously perceive quantum fluctuation fields, speak with non-corporeal spatial anomalies, share protocols with closed circuit security systems, monitor city emergency vid-bands, and tell you what the most prevalent smell was in the building on the other side of the street.
The trick was getting him to focus on just one of these at any given time. Unfortunately, Kilfry consoled himself, Scoomer was an unwelcome necessity for this operation.
Scoomer was the only hope they had to locate the Singularityger.
“Well, it’s got to be around here somewhere,” Kilfry said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s keep moving. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and it’ll jump out and bite your face off.”
Scoomer nodded thoughtfully.
“We can only hope,” he conceded distractedly.
They pushed through the earthy muck tensely but steadily.
Kilfry knew it had to be close.
Singularitygers had been encountered only a handful of times in the entirety of recorded history, but Kilfry had done his homework, and had metaphorically shown his 11th grade maths teacher what a judgemental bitch she really was. The Singularitygers were more myth than anything else. They were the stuff of nightmares, quite literally. Singularitygers could attune their existence with a number of existential planes.
They could exist as a thought.
They could exist as sound.
They could exist as whisper on a ray of light.
The problem with their existence was that, like multi-mediums, they had trouble focusing on one particular band of existence. Truthfully, you would never even know that Singularitygers existed, until one managed to focus and manifest its existence on the physical plane, at which point a ten-foot-long, purple-striped monster was sitting in the room with you. And when they had managed to become physical once, they always seemed to come back for more…
Curse my species for being so delicious, Kilfry ruminated nostalgically.
“I’m sensing a cheese-like texture…” Scoomer announced as he rubbed his temples. “Emmanating from the mid-street quantum fission-anamoly.”
Kilfry furrowed his brow and turned to examine Scoomer.
“‘Cheese-like’… What??” he asked with exasperation. “What the hell are you talking about, you mutant?! What ‘mid-street quantum fission-anomaly’?? Speak humaniclish, you ball-bag!”
Suddenly, the end of the alley-way erupted in a bright-flash of heat and light. An enormous hulking purple beast exploded into existence before their eyes and frantically dashed out the end of the alley
“I’m sensing…” Scoomer predicated quietly. “That the Singularityger has become physical again.”
Kilfry resolutely operated the intimidation mechanism on his pistol, and took off after his prey. All thought of the brown, shit-like tar tarnishing his uniform was gone now, as Kilfry slopped through the dingy streets.
Some thought of the tar returned briefly as Kilfry felt it squelch down the inside of his boots and seep into his socks, but it was only for a moment and didn’t really count anyway.
The decorated military officer grunted gutturally as he caught sight of the great pan-dimensional cat rounding a corner ahead of him and he quickened his loping pace.
Kilfry hadn’t failed an assignment yet.
He’d be damned if he lost this collar.
Commander Kilfry idly made a mental note to formulate some sort of a joke about cats and collars as he barrelled forward into another one of the city’s midnight orifices.
Suddenly, Kilfry froze in his tracks
It was a dead-end, and the beast was nowhere to be seen.
Kilfry scanned the walls of the alley frantically.
He knew the Singularityger couldn’t move very fast when it adopted a non-physical form. It had to be close by still.
The Commander dug his heels in and gritted his teeth. With iron resolve and an itchy trigger finger, Kilfry began firing erratically into the alleyway, as per his default military directive. He roared triumphantly as the narrow passage lit up with the bright yellow illumination of his photonic-light blasts. He cackled maniacally as the photons seared the polycarbonate framework of the buildings he struck, and hoped that his wanton destruction was covered by his insurance provider.
And then, as the euphoria of warfare subsided and his ammunitions battery ran out, Kilfry lowered his sidearm.
The Singularityger was still nowhere to be seen.
Kilfry scratched his head.
“I felt sure that would work…” he muttered quietly to himself.
Without warning the alleyway lit up, and the scent of burning oxygen flooded Kilfry’s nostrils. He felt the Singularityger’s tree-trunk paws lash out, pushing him to the ground like a rag doll. He felt the weight of its colossal body come down on him, squeezing the air from his lungs and snapping several ribs in his chest like wishbones. He felt its knife-like claws shoot out unhesitantly, searing through his chest cavity with heated arrest.
This is it, Commander Kilfry realised as he felt his lungs filling with blood, the mighty quantum-beast’s toothen maw descending on his head.
This is how I die…
Kilfry gasped as fire from an unseen laser lashed out, and the Singularityger’s blood spattered across his heavily tar-stained dress-uniform.
It was a terrible idea to wear my dress-uniform for this, Kilfry realised as the great cat’s beastial form fell on top of him.
Kilfry craned his neck desperately as someone dragged his prone form out from under the fallen monster. Scoomer smiled at Kilfry modestly as he pulled him to his feet.
“I sensed that you were in trouble,” he confided. “It smells like poop down here.”
Kilfry threw his head back and laughed, whilst simultaneously attempting to stop all his blood from pouring out.
“That it does, old friend!” he conceded joyously. “That it does…”
Commander Kilfry examined the fallen Singularityger and shook his head condescendingly.
“Perhaps we should put a collar on it…” he jibed. “Since I made it my bitch! Plus… y’know… it’s a cat!”
Nice one, he assured himself.
Scoomer said something else, but Commander Kilfry didn’t really care.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Commander Kilfry Versus Space Fever

Commander Kilfry descended to the rocky, barren surface with sweaty trepidation. The meteor had little to no gravity, and Kilfry had to rely almost solely on his armoured suit’s artificial gravity field to keep himself grounded. He had never operated in such a low centre of gravity before. One powerful blast would be all it took to shuffle him loose from the ashy crust of this deserted rock…
Kilfry shook his head, and laughed loudly in an attempt to distract himself from the imminent peril at hand. To the casual observer, he might have appeared mildly crazy.
“You know, you sound kinda crazy when you laugh like that,” confirmed Lieutenant Badmoo, as he touched down next to Kilfry with a flourish.
Kilfry smiled wryly at Badmoo, though the gesture was sadly lost beneath his cavernous helmet.
“Fear not, my trusty sidekick,” Kilfry lauded, slapping Badmoo playfully on the back. “It’s all part of the plan!”
Badmoo’s eye twitched angrily.
“Oh, really?” he drolled sarcastically as he played with the scanning computer on his arm. “What plan is that, exactly? The one where you laugh loud enough to attract the alien’s attention, thusly making a sneak attack completely and utterly impossible? And I told you, I’m not your sidekick! You just… outrank me…”
Kilfry studied Badmoo with cool derision.
“Well…” Kilfry cooed thoughtfully. “Since I outrank you, I order you to be my sidekick.”
Badmoo sighed.
“I hate you,” he declared bluntly.
Badmoo’s personal scanning computer whirred to life, echoing a series of electronic beeps around the barren crater they’d landed in.
“We’ve got four bogies to the north…” Badmoo reported concernedly. “And… oh my god… it looks like… a queen…”
“If anything is going to get us found out,” Kilfry pontificated distractedly. “It’ll be that stupid recon computer. What kind of a stupid scanner beeps as loudly as that anyway?? I don’t know why you brought it… Can’t you turn the sound off?”
Badmoo growled under his breath as he shut down the scanning computer.
“Yeah, right…” he intoned angrily. “Because my scanning computer is nowhere near as useful as that lame alien artefact you spent all our money on at the last space port… It doesn’t even do anything!”
“The space oracle told me it would help us, Lieu-ten-ant!” Kilfry shouted back shrilly, sounding out Badmoo’s rank in phonetic accusation. “What was I supposed to do?? It’s obviously important…”
“Oh sure, it’s obviously important!” Badmoo screamed back. “That cult of crazed space mutants that jumped us back there seemed quite interested in it…”
“Well, they wouldn’t have been able to jump us, if your stupid computer hadn’t beeped so freaking loudly!!” Kilfry bellowed, spraying spittle across the inside of his reflective face guard.
Badmoo screeched piercingly as he unholstered his photonic pistol from his hip.
“Oh yeah…” he hissed through gritted teeth at Kilfry. “Well, here’s a beep for you…”
Badmoo fired from the hip without thinking, straight into the armour around Kilfry’s stomach.
The crisp flash of oxidised photonic particles flooded the air, as the life support system in Kilfry’s suit whirred to life. Kilfry stood in muted shock as his suit’s computer moaned at him.
“You shot me!” he exclaimed in shock.
“Yeah, I did!” Badmoo shouted back. “What you gunna do about it, Com-man-der??”
Another photonic flash illuminated the grey silt of the crater, as Badmoo’s pistol struck Kilfry in the leg, causing him to stagger backwards.
“Stop it!” screamed Kilfry. “My shields! We’ll need them at full power, if we want to defeat the aliens…”
Badmoo’s pistol fire seared through the air a third time, thwacking Kilfry in the face-guard of his helmet, and knocking him on his arse.
“You are so dead…” Kilfry growled grimly, as he unclipped his silicose particle rifle from his shoulder.
With a flourishing roll and a quick burst from his stabilising jets, Kilfry rocketed through the air like a deranged albatross with an energy weapon. He unloaded a clip from his rifle into Badmoo’s head as he gracefully twisted and pivoted over him, landing lightly on the far side of him.
“Those zero-g acrobatics lessons aren’t looking so bad now, are they?” Kilfry said smugly, as he replaced his rifle clip while circling Badmoo predatorily.Badmoo slowly rose to his feet, a seething anger radiating from his being.
“I…” he panted heavily. “I… am going… to kill you…”
Badmoo whipped his second photonic pistol out from its holster, but Kilfry was ready this time. Simultaneously, Badmoo and Kilfry began unloading their weapons into the fore of each other’s armoured suits. Their internal computers flashed red and interjected polite warning messages as the air filled with the flash of high-tech weaponry. Both staggered backwards, the physical pressure of the laser barrages taking its toll on their low-gravity forms, as they were pushed grindingly against the dirt towards the edges of the crater.
“Shields… fading…” Kilfry moaned through gritted teeth as he continued to fire on Badmoo’s shadowy form.
But Kilfry wouldn’t back down, just as he wouldn’t ask for quarter.
He’d pinky-sworn to himself that it would never come to that.
“Die…” came Badmoo’s raspy voice over the intercom as darkness closed in around Kilfry.
Kilfry gasped.
He rolled to the side, as Badmoo’s pistol-fire cascaded through the air around him.
“Lietuenant Badmoo!” Kilfry barked ferociously before the photonic blasts came upon him again. “Administer your plasmic nano-inhibitors! Now!!”
Badmoo froze, halting his attack.
He eyed Kilfry suspiciously as he watched his friend and nemesis panting in the dirt down the barrel of his guns. Then, Badmoo holstered the firearms. He cursed under his breath as he initiated the nano-injection sequence from his suit’s computer.
Of course…” Badmoo lamented. “Space fever…”
Kilfry nodded concernedly as he rose to his feet, and administered the inhibitors to himself also.
“Yup,” Kilfry told Badmoo as a mild euphoria washed over him with the release of the nano-inhibitors into his bloodstream. “We must have picked it up from those space-mutants. Filthy animals.”
Badmoo sighed, and sat down on a nearby rock.
“Commander, do you ever feel like this has gotten too easy?” Badmoo complained as he hung his head. “I mean, even if the space fever had gotten the better of us, and our shields had failed, you and I both know that our suits will compensate, repair, and eventually they will revive us before a permanent cease-function of our vital systems renders these bodies useless. And even then, we know that we have cloned-bodies waiting for us back at the base-ship, ready to receive our consciousness-pneumonics when they’re retrieved.”
Commander Kilfry tapped his poly-carbonate sun-visor with his index finger thoughtfully.
“So you’re saying…” Kilfry intoned pedantically. “You’re saying that you don’t like the fact that the two of us can subvert an entire alien attack force, by ourselves, without having to call for backup? You… want more of a challenge?”
Lieutenant Badmoo shrugged.
“Well…” he said thoughtfully. “Not exactly… It’s just that… Technologically, we’re at a level where life might as well not matter anymore. I have absolutely no fear of dying, did you know that? I feel like my life has become a computer game…”
Commander Kilfry nodded sagely.
“You sound like a dick,” he informed Badmoo. “Come on. Whoever kills the alien queen gets to keep her pointy hat…”