Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

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Post by Falkenhorst » 2006-09-01 02:22pm



The primary sewer main didn't last much longer. With a rumbling blast, the pipe gave way, spewing a flood of raw sewage into the compartment at a rate that only seemed to increase. On a starship, the same as a submarine, the biggest threats to the crew are fire and leaks. Galactica was about to be schooled in the second.

Galactica CIC

The deck reverberated beneath Col. Tigh's feet. Noticing the change, he turned his gaze to the other officers at their posts. "Anybody else feel that?" he asked ominously. They started to look at him with quizzical looks of half hidden amusement, wondering if he was actually on the level, or if this was the beginning of one of his drunken episodes.

"Colonel!" Piped up Lt. Gaeta. "I have a red light on the primary sewer main... 2 compartments forward of frame 32. Steerage deck, sir!"

"Reports are coming in from steerage now sir," said Dualla. "Uh... it seems the lower decks are flooding with raw sewage!"

"Get Chief Tyrol down there with a DC team to contain the leak manually." ordered Tigh, snickering at the thought of Tyrol up to his chest in human waste struggling to close a rusty emergency valve.

BOTM 15.Nov.02

Post #114 @ Fri Oct 18, 2002 4:44 pm

"I've had all that I wanted of a lot of things I've had
And a lot more than I needed of some things that turned out bad"

-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"


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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2006-09-11 03:20pm

"UPF Update"

UPF has secretly copyrighted the trademark "Snakes on a Starship" for use in a future project. All other usage is unofficial and subject to ludicrous financial penalties rivaled only by those of RIAA and MPAA lawsuits.

Thank you.


As of September 19th, 2006, UPF also secretly copyrights the trademark to UPF40K.
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2006-09-19 06:53pm, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2006-09-13 07:40pm

The Prototype for the UPF Comic Book.

"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2006-09-21 06:03pm

[Exmodeus VIII, Cargo Hold of the En'zel]

Due to a loathing amongst the higher-ups in the Romulan military, their military transports lagged far behind even their underappreciated counterparts in the Federation, and especially those in use by the Klingons. When war was declared against the DOminion shipyards across the Empire began converting large-cargo craft into the ships that would deliver soldiers into battle. The cargo ships were chose for their large transporters capable of mass beamings, and the fact they were the only ROmulan ship in production with the space required to house enough soldiers in the interim between outposts.

The order had been given out only two hours before their arrival on the planet. Forcing the mercenaries on board to scramble to assemble their gear, both for the upcoming battle, and for the stay on the planet. The Romulans only provided shelter and other necessities at a substantial fraction of their standard merecenary contract. Only the most dim witted of mercs let the Romulans cut their pay in exchange for these things.

Fanboy double checked everything in his pack as he stashed away the winnings from the Nausicaans. It wasn't much money, but after having a pair of Varon-T disruptors pointed at his head and escaping with only a cut on his right arm he felt that it was better than nothing.

"Boy you sure you know how to pack. Inflatable survival tent, climate regulator, you've got everything except a replicator in here!" Fangirl smirked, leaning over Fanboy and draping her arms over him, letting her breasts spill onto his shoulder the way she knew he liked it.

"And you didn't pack anything. I find it hard to believe that you thought we would be in and out of this place before bedtime." He chuckled.

"Well I knew that if it came down to it i'd figure something out. But I don't have to worry about that now do I? Or are you going to tell me there's only room for one in the tent." She said, running her fingers down the collar of his shirt where it peeked out from behind body armor. He grabbed her hand in his and leaned in to her and kissed her hard.

"You know we might not have to worry about it if one of us gets killed down there." He turned away and began subconsciously double checking his weapons and recounting his spare ammunition.

"Don't fear," she spoke while balling her hands into fists and putting them on her hips. "I'll protect you. Just make sure that when I save your skin down there I see a fair share of your paycheck."

He turned back over his shoulder to look at her, he knew it was sheer bravado and nothing more. But it felt pretty good to know that he could go into battle with his wife and not have to worry about her getting hurt, or having to worry about her stabbing him in the back either. Fangirl smiled and started to respond but the lights dimmed momentarily and the deckplates beneath her began to shake.

"Seems like we're entering the atmosphere." Fanboy heard from a nearby alien who was twitching nervously while holding what appeared to be a very large grenade. Fanboy eased his postition away from the potential teamkiller slowly and discretely, so that someone else might move into his spot and provide an extra layer of defense against possible fragmentation.

"Wait a minute." Thought Fanboy. "Why would be entering the atmosphere if we have the bulk transporters."

The shaking resumed and this time it was much more violent, and suddenly he realized. "Oh fuck we're being shot at."

[Exmodeus VIII, aboard the Command Ship Scythe]

The Romulan Fleet had begun engaging the Exmodeus Outer Defense fleet. Unknown to Shinzon, or any of his commanders or operatives, the Dominion had deployed several ships to the area to begin moving additional equipment to Exmodeus III. Not only would more Jem'Hadar be present on the surface laboring to get the necessary work done, but more of their ships would be in orbit as well.

"Admiral Shinzon, Troopship En'zel has come under fire. It is carrying the first wave of mercenary troops scheduled to land." The Reman Tactical officer had no sooner finished his sentence when another repot came in. "En'zel's shields down to eighty percent, they will need another five minutes to find a suitable transporter site on the surface. Troop ship Ik'tel is reporting extensive hull damage from suicide attacks.

"Then get our warships between their guns and our troops! I am not going to have this mission fail because we lost all of our troops before they even touched the ground! Target their engines, immobilize them before they can ram us! Any ship succumbing to a ramming attack will have their Captain demoted in rank for incompetence!"

More warbirds pushed to the front of the Romulan formation and the larger ships slowly but steadily held off and destroyed the remaining Dominion ships, as the last of the Dominion forces in space fell the force on the planet began to dig in. But before they could complete those preparations a ground force of several thousand mercenary soldiers were systematically beamed down. With a variety of weaponry almost unheard of in modern interplanetary warfare the mercenaries attacked the entrenched Jem'Hadar.

[Exmodeus VIII, Battleground]

Fanboy and Fangirl ended up right in the middle of one of the first developing firefights. A small clearing amidst a petrified forest of sorts. At first they had felt as if their luck couldn't get any worse, but when mercenaries began materializing up in the stone trees, some of them impaled by branches, they became slightly more optimistic about their own predicament.

"Jemmies started firing up transporter scramblers. We won't be getting any more reinforcements anytime soon even if they start dumping more troops outside the scrambler perimeter." Fangirl drew her weapon reflexively and dove under cover behind an ancient tree.

"You thought it was going to be easy? Sweetie this just MIGHT be worse than the time you tried hawking those blackmail photos of the Tellarite ambassador getting his second snout polished by that underaged Benzite." Fanboy said as he hefted one of his most prized possessions, a non replicated fully functional AK-47, even hundreds of years after their creation the ones that were still in existence functioned exceptionally. He fired off a few bursts managing to hit one overzealous Jem'Hadar in the neck, forcing his more sensible brethren to retreat back to the treeline across the clearing.

"Fucking wonderful." Fanboy said, "Lets hope those pointy eared fucks in the green spaceships have a plan or else this is going to become the most unentertaining place i've ever been nearly killed at."

Suddenly the trees on the far end of the clearing with the Jem'Hadar started exploding. Fanboy turned to look behind him to see where the fire was coming from but there was no sign of any kind of barrage coming from his direction. More explosions followed and Fangirl leapt up from behind her cover to charge forward. "Hey you better hurry up or there won't be any left. Whatever's annhilating our gray scaled friends is coming from right behind them.

By the time they arrived at their enemy's former position the bloodbath had already come and gone. The mercenary troops had been the distraction Shinzon required to allow the more professional and better equipped Reman troops to overrun the Dominion position after the defenders had committed their entire force in the direction the mercenaries were coming from. Fanboy and Fangirl stopped in their tracks as a contingent of Remans were tossing dead Jem'Hadar onto a fire, which was less labor intensive than a mass grave but had a distinctively putrid smell that had everyone either wishing for respirators or desperately fumbling for their own.

Upon getting his first look at the Remans, fangirl leaned to Fanboy's ear and whispered. "Good thing we aren't fighting a war in the name of beauty, otherwise i wouldn't know which side to fight for."

"Ugly Civil War, I'm with the Remans!" Fanboy said in a mocking tone of voice. The mood was jubilant, as the conflict had ended rather quickly. but between the Jem'Hadar, their transporter scramblers, and the lack of medics among the mercenaries. The body count for the paid soldiers was horrendous. 10% of all deployed mercenary forces were killed in what was supposed to be a lackluster battle with no heavy fighting. At least thats what the ROmulans had said, but amongst the more realistic hired guns was the growing sentiment that they were little better than cannon fodder that could fight back, and that there was a lot more that stake than some out of the way contested planet.

"Hey," Fangirl said. "You said I thought it was going to be easy? Well I guess it was."

"It was over pretty damn quick. Something else has to be fucking with the Dominion around here because there's no way this battle should have been written so quickly within one chapter...err...I mean a few hours." Fanboy said, breaking the fourth wall with the eloquence of a masturbating walrus.

[Bridge of the Command Ship Scythe]

"Admiral, reports from the newly established forward command center tell us that we have the cloning facility relatively intact. Only a small fraction of Jem'Hadar stayed behind once the mercenaries were deployed."

"Very good Vkruk," Shinzon spoke, clutching his head absently.

"I am sure that the Dominion technology will give us the key to aiding your condition."

"It had better, otherwise i've been told that I will require a 100% blood transfusion. Do you realize how absurd that sounds? It is almost as if some cruel god is watching over my character, and creating these little tragedies just to make my life more interesting. Has the command center been fully secured?"

Vkruk turned towards the console, and for a second he disappeared into the darkened corner of the bridge with the only indication of his presence being the soft glow of a communications screen that was busy sending reports from the surface. "It has."

"Then you are to beam down and begin inspecting it, but make sure all of the working cloning facilities are secured and taken out of sight before the Romulans get to it, especially any known Tal shiar operatives. Tell them that all cloning equipment was sabotaged by the Vorta. Once you have finished inform me of the equipment's location."

Vkruk acknowledged Shinzon with a curt bow of his head and made his way towards the transporter room, If Shinzon did not recieve some sort of treatment soon it would decrease his lifespan significantly. Of course if it wasn't for the current war they would be free to pursue their own agendas, and a certain Federation captain might have already been in their hands.

[Exmodeus III, Wreckage Technical Station]

"Dizel, I thought I told you not to contact me until the salvaging of the Borg propulsion system was finished." The Founder's voice was as cold as the the void of space itself, and Dizel knew that even one of his beloved idols was not above a fit of anger that would leave underacheiving subordinates dead or worse.

"It was unavoidable, and I beg for your divine forgiveness." Dizel cringed and made the appropriate gesture of submission.

"As well you should." Came another voice, clipped and precise and not unlike Dizel's own. The screen changed images to that of Weyoun. Dizel tightly clenched his fist, even amongst his own species Weyoun was considered arrogant and unbearable.

"To what do I owe this pleasure brother Weyoun?" There was some dialogue off screen that Dizel couldn't quite make out, but he was sure that he heard the Founder speaking softly.

"I've just now been appointed liason between your project and the FOunders, at least until you demonstrate the level of competence that the Dizel line was engineered for. With that formality out of your way we can get to the purpose of your transmission. Do you have any objection to this?"

Dizel resisted the urge to sneer, instead he resigned himself to his current situation. "None." was all he replied with. Weyoun remained silent, allowing Dizen to cotninue. "I've just recieved word from our forward outpost on Exmodeus VIII. A Romulan fleet has overran the planet and established a beachhead within the system. Judging by the size of their fleet, Exmodeus III is the only possible objective. As a result we have lost all of our cloning facilities in the system, and the only facility in the entire sector designed to reproduce Vorta."

Weyoun was obviously amused at the prospects of Dizel's line being wiped out, but that same amusement was dampened by the news that another Dominion project was being pushed back by members of the Federation Alliance. Still, he somehow managed to remain smug. "Is one Romulan Fleet too much for your troops to handle Dizel?"

"We have sufficient forces to hold the planet, but according to reports this fleet is the same ROmulan fleet that has been victorious in almost every attempt by our forces to penetrate Romulan space."

Weyoun smiled, not oblivious to the meaning behind Dizel's words but completely devoid of sympathy. Dizel knew that he was in a no win situation. He would either have to beg for reinforcements, or suffer an embarassing defeat.

"Dizel, if you can't handle the situation on your own you should have told me. I am more than willing to send you about a dozen unassigned Cardassian warships to augment your fleet, and of course we'll send another division of Jem'Hadar as well. Does that make you feel better?"

Humbled but satisfied at the reinforcements Dizel nodded. "I ask for these things only to better serve the Founders."

"See to it that you serve them better then." Weyoun jabbed as a he cut off the transmission.

Dizel slumped in his seat slightly and began examining the reports of the missing Jem'Hadar and Cardassians that were lost while navigating the deepest recesses of the Borg ship. No need to let Weyoun know about that unless it actually be came a problem.

[Exmodeus III, Wreckage Technical Station]



*to be continued*
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Sidewinder » 2006-10-07 02:13am

"What in hell is going on here?!"

Commander John Riehle, commander of Starbase 1337, shook in fear of Fleet Captain Global War on Terror Rice IX. Behind him, the Borg were assimilating the command center, transforming it into God Knows What-- an unwelcome sight to the inspecting officer. "Sir, the Borg are political refugees fleeing persecution in their homeland. They asked for asylum--"

"You let the Borg aboard a Starfleet facility?!"

"Sir, under the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets, no Starfleet officer may deny the right of asylum to any sentient being who requests it. We are obligated to protect these refugees and to provide for their needs." Behind Cmdr Riehle, a Borg drone extended its assimilation tubules to inject nanoprobes into him. Bang! "Eek!" Cmdr Riehle looked away as Capt Rice fired a 10.9 x 32.8 mm-- .44 Magnum-- round, his head turning to see the bullet's kinetic energy behead the drone. "Sir, you're violating the constitutional rights of a sentient being! I must warn you, I'll be filing a formal complaint to Starfleet Command!"

Capt Rice raised his Smith and Wesson Model B29 revolver, threatening to pistol whip Cmdr Riehle. "I just saved you from getting ass-raped by the Borg!"

"I'll also be filing a formal complaint against your use of homophobic terminology! Not that I'd engage in anal sex, but I respect right to privacy for male homosexuals to--" Cmdr Riehle blushed. "Besides, your violent militaristic attitude probably provoked that drone! I'm sure if you surrendered your weapon and ceased further action against the Borg, we can be united in friendship and--" Another drone interrupted Cmdr Riehle's preaching by injecting nanoprobes into him. "Gasp!"

Capt Rice squeezed the trigger-- the bullet beheaded the drone behind Cmdr Riehle-- heard footsteps behind him, turned to slam the 8-inch barrel against a drone's head, and fractured its skull. As the drone fell, others rose in its place like the mythical hydra's heads. "Emergency beam up!" Starbase 1337's command center faded out of sight to be replaced by the transporter room of the USS Miyamoto Musashi, a Galaxy WANK class "explorer" he commanded. "Red alert!" Capt Rice sprinted into the bridge. "The Borg have taken over Starbase 1337's command center-- it must be sterilized!"

"What?!" The bridge crewmembers stopped doubting Capt Rice when the Borg hailed them from Starbase 1337's command center.

"We are political refugees," the Borg claimed. "Lower your shields and donate your ship to the Collective. We will accept them as humanitarian aid and add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is in violation of the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets."

"Arm the Shock and Awe," Capt Rice ordered. "Lock on the command center. Fire." The "awe" of a heavy PENIS cannon opened a hole in the starbase shields. Capt Rice watched the "shock" of three quantum torpedoes shoot towards the starbase, only to bounce harmlessly off its hull plating.

"Sir, the Borg have remotely disarmed the torpedo warheads!" Lieutenant Junior Grade Haruka Tenou, the tactical officer, reported before a cutting beam cut into the Musashi's reactive armor. "Ah!"

'They must have gotten the disarmament codes from Commander Riehle.' "Reverse impulse!" A cutting beam reached from the starbase, towards the Musashi as the ship backed away. "90 degrees to starboard. Maximum warp, engage." 'I swear in the name of my great ancestor, the crusader George W. Bush, the space zombies will pay for this!' Capt Rice promised himself as the Musashi made its escape.



An 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic by Sidewinder, 2006. Based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by Gene Roddenberry.


"To the GGV James T. Kirk. May she serve the Gonghe Republic with courage and honor." Capt Spock (retired) poured a cup of scotch into the dilithium chamber-- a ceremonial drink for the ship's spirit-- and closed the hatch. Gonghe government officials and military service members clapped, celebrating the christening of the Navy's newest heavy cruiser, as an orderly refilled the cup. "Thank you." Spock took the scotch bottle, surprising the orderly. The Vulcan drained the cup as he followed the visiting officials to the bridge.

"The James T. Kirk, a Li Xiaolong class assault cruiser, is 545 meters long and weighs 3,700,000 tons," a Navy lieutenant junior grade stated. "Based on the Akira class that served with distinction in the Dominion War, the design was lengthened to accommodate a heavy PENIS cannon and its power source, a matter/antimatter reaction assembly. The James T. Kirk's weapons pod mounts seven forward firing and one rear firing torpedo launchers, but it can be replaced with sensor, electronic warfare, or other mission pods. In addition, the James T. Kirk is armed with one hull mounted torpedo launcher, 12 Hedgehog mini-torpedo volley systems, 16 medium PENIS cannons in twin-gun turrets, and eight PENIS emitters. The hangar accommodates..."

Spock noticed the ship's dedication plaque. "I don't believe in the no-win scenario." The quote aroused an unfamiliar emotion. 'Nostalgia.' The Vulcan remembered the USS Enterprise's first five-year mission of exploration, when he and other officers aboard the ship were honored as heroes for fighting off the "evil masks"-- later identified as the Breen-- who attacked the Gonghe capital.

"Ahhhh! That hit the spot!" Capt Barry "Bazza" Bogan, Spock's "chauffeur," swaggered towards the Vulcan. "Hey, Spock-boy!" He raised a bottle of Yitian Beer in salute. "You think Kirk will live up to her name?"

"A ship is only as effective as her crew." Spock shook the bottle, listening to the remaining scotch swirl inside.

"Sir." The orderly poured the remaining scotch into the Vulcan's cup. He put the empty bottle in a food slot to be recycled and replaced by a fresh bottle, which he handed to Spock.

"Impressive efficiency." The Vulcan poured himself another drink as he turned to Bazza. "I believe the GGV James T. Kirk will honor the memory of my late friend."

"Good to hear! Hey, orderly!" Bazza shook the empty beer bottle, which the orderly replaced with a fresh one. "What's your next stop? That Leary station we passed on the way-- Cool Cat's?" Leary stations were commercial space stations where marijuana was grown-- Spock was prescribed the "herbal remedy" for his arthritis, and Bazza intended to get some marijuana for himself.

"A logical destination." The Vulcan approached the Gonghe Defense Minister, explained that he was leaving to pick up a prescription, and accepted a toast from the officials present. Spock's face was red from the alcohol consumed when he returned to Bazza's side. "To the Devil."

Bad news greeted the Vulcan when he transported aboard the USS Tasmanian Devil, an Akira class heavy cruiser under Bazza's command. "Sir, we received a priority message from Starfleet HQ: they want you to negotiate with the Borg for the return of Starbase 1337," Ensign Brigitte "Blondie" Bondi reported.

"You mean HQ wants us to retake the starbase. We'll need a lot more firepower than what we got on hand." Bazza shook the now empty beer bottle. "And I'll need a lot more beer before I get drunk enough to take on the Borg again."

"No, HQ wants us to peacefully negotiate with the Borg for the starbase's return," Blondie corrected.


"The Borg claimed they were refugees and asked the starbase commander for asylum. Under the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets, no Starfleet officer may deny the right of asylum to any sentient being who requests it."

"Fuck me!"

"Now?" Blondie shrugged and took off her shirt. "Aye aye." She unzipped Bazza's pants and put on a condom, pushed him onto a chair, and mounted him. Bazza, his face buried between Blondie's breasts, couldn't speak up to correct the ensign's mistake-- nor did he want to.

Spock calmly walked past the officers bouncing on the chair like rabbits in heat, towards Blondie's console, and read the files on Starbase 1337. "John Riehle... promoted to commander for negotiating a ceasefire with General Martok to end the Second Federation-Klingon War... Martok present was in actuality a changeling, and violated the ceasefire... He proved the Federation's willingness to adhere to the ceasefire by allowing General Martok to sodomize him and then performing fellatio to clean his feces off the general's phallus?" The Vulcan's right eyebrow rose-- he was unable to suppress his surprise at this detail. 'Starfleet's standards for selecting officers to be starbase commanders are significantly lower than I expected. If Jim...' Spock's head shook. 'Now is not the time for nostalgia.' He turned towards Bazza and Blondie. "Captain, set a course for the Leary station Cool Cat's." 'I am not doing this shit unless I have a sufficient supply of marijuana.'

"Gasp!" Bazza's head rose from Blondie's breasts to say, "Aye aye!" before the ensign buried it again.


"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Capt Rice demanded.

Admiral Graham Kennedy tried to maintain his dignity by fighting back his tears, but this made him look like a man suffering from constipation. "C-Captain Rice, how d-dare you use s-such language with m-m-me! I'm p-putting this on your record! I d-demand th-that you apologize--"

"They are Borg! They came to ass-rape us! They claimed to be political refugees, hoping we'd be stupid enough to drop our pants for them! And we did!"

Adm Kennedy now looked like a man so constipated, his rectum was trying to expel his vertebral column. "I'm also r-r-reprimanding you for using p-p-politically offensive language. M-male homosexuals have the right to--"

Capt Rice terminated communications with the Admiral. "Captain Rice to Trigga'Happi," he called to his combadge.

"Trigga'Happi to Captain Rice."

"Captain Rice to Trigga'Happi, report to the bridge ASAP," as soon as possible. After the executive officer entered the bridge, Capt Rice said, "Commander Trigga'Happi, you have command. I'm retiring to my room."

"Yes, Sir," the Klingon male answered.

Capt Rice marched into his room, locked the door, and faced a communications console. "Computer, open secure channel Alpha One-Four dash Sierra Three-One, authorization Golf Niner-One-One Whiskey Two-Zero Bravo Zero-One."

A humanoid silhouette, framed by red light, appeared onscreen. "Report."

"Admiral Ass-Kisser," a nickname Adm Kennedy earned for the diplomatic and economic concessions he was willing to give for his pacifist ideals, "demands a diplomatic solution to the Borg occupation of Starbase 1337, as if he can talk the space zombies out of ass-raping the Federation."

The silhouette nodded. "Spock has been ordered to negotiate with the Borg for the starbase's return. I want you to protect Spock during negotiations."

"You want Spock to take care of the Borg while I sit with my thumb up my ass?"

"You are to protect Spock-- with lethal force if necessary-- against the Borg and their proxies, such as Borg sympathizers within the Federation."

"If I must fight Borg sympathizers within the Federation, I must hire mercenaries for support." Capt Rice transmitted a list of names and contact information.

"Can we trust these mercenaries?"

"We can trust them to do their job-- kill enemy combatants-- better than we can trust someone from Starfleet Headquarters."

"Very well." The silhouette transmitted an account number. "Remember, the Borg cannot be trusted-- they will attempt to assimilate Spock, you will be forced to order their destruction, and Spock will support your order as a logical one."

Capt Rice smiled. "Good plan."

"Execute it with extreme prejudice." The silhouette terminated communications.


The Musashi and ten mercenary vessels greeted the Devil as she reentered Federation space.

Bazza noticed two of the mercenary vessels were Constitution WANK class heavy cruisers whose navigational deflectors were replaced by heavy PENIS cannons. "Crickey, those things can destroy the Devil with one shot!"

"By my calculations, one shot from a heavy PENIS cannon is insufficient to destroy this ship," Spock corrected. "One shot followed by a volley of three photon torpedoes is sufficient."

"I hope those boys are on our side."

"Sir, the Musashi is hailing us," Blondie reported. Bazza pressed a button on the armrest's integral remote control to change the channel, putting Capt Rice onscreen.

"Mister Spock, this is Fleet Captain Global War on Terror Rice IX of the Miyamoto Musashi."

"Fuck me," Bazza whispered, "it's Cat O' Nine," a nickname Capt Rice earned for the strict discipline aboard his ships.

"We're here to escort you to Starbase 1337 for negotiations with the Borg," Capt Rice stated.

"Your offer is accepted," Spock answered. "I would rather the Federation not act in such a militaristic manner, but the proverb, 'It is better to have and not need than to need and not have,' holds truth."

Capt Rice smiled. "A man of ideas as well as ideals. I'm impressed, Mister Spock."

Blondie's monitor displayed data on the Musashi: the Gonghe Navy bought the stardrive section and connected it to a saucer section designed to land and support a mechanized infantry battalion, but high operations costs led the Navy to decommission the "assault ship" and sell her to the Federation. The Musashi received enhanced shield emitters, reactive armor plates, and a "spoiler" mounting two impulse engines and two PENIS emitters between the warp nacelles. "Scars" mounting PENIS emitters replaced the "pussy" phaser emitters and a heavy PENIS cannon replaced the navigational deflector-- records state the cannon was removed, but Blondie suspected the records were falsified, as the cannon power source was retained. The Musashi also mounted two additional torpedo launchers and 11 Hedgehogs-- six on the saucer's topside, two side-facing Hedgehogs on the neck connecting the saucer and stardrive sections, two on the saucer and stardrive's undersides, and a rear-facing Hedgehog on the spoiler. "Someone's overcompensating."

"There's no such thing as 'overcompensating' when facing the Borg," Bazza countered, remembering his own battles against the "space zombies." He wanted a heavy PENIS cannon for his own ship-- he was even willing to do without replicated beer and pretzels, as replacing the navigational deflector meant the ship needed enhanced shield emitters with gigantic energy requirements-- but Starfleet HQ turned down his request on the grounds that the weapon emitted deadly delta radiation, it was inhumane, and it wasn't needed for Starfleet's scientific and diplomatic missions. Spock had to personally plead his case before Starfleet HQ-- the Vulcan threatened to leak details on Adm Kennedy's affair with a 17-year-old cadet-- for money to pay a Gonghe armament company to mount eight Hedgehogs and four medium PENIS turrets on the Devil.

The fleet cruised to Starbase 1337, which the Borg rebuilt to resemble an elastrator, a castration instrument. "I don't like the look of this," Bazza said, his hand instinctively shielding his genitals.

"I agree despite all logic," Spock admitted, reaching for the Walther PPK automatic pistol under his coat. "Starbase 1337's post-assimilation appearance provokes fear in me. Nonetheless, we must perform our duty. Full power to shields, alert security teams, remain outside of Starbase 1337's transporter range." 'I will not allow myself to be ass-raped for diplomatic reasons.' "Hail them."

Cmdr Riehle, now assimilated, appeared onscreen. "I am T-1000 of Refugee Camp 1337. Your life, as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will provide humanitarian service to us."

"Commander Riehle--"

"The designation 'Commander Riehle' is obsolete. I am T-1000 of Refugee Camp 1337."

"Very well, T-1000. Starbase 1337 is a Starfleet installation. The Borg are unlawfully occupying an installation they are not authorized to use-- I believe the legal term is 'squatting'-- and must evacuate the installation and return any Starfleet personnel and property they have assimilated."

"The installation Refugee Camp 1337, the biological organisms and the technological artifacts aboard were donated as humanitarian aid to the Borg, under the orders of Commander John Riehle, in accordance to the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets."

"Commander Riehle--" "The designation 'Commander Riehle' is obsolete--" "Acted beyond the powers granted him by Starfleet. He was not authorized to surrender the installation and the personnel under his command--" "Resistance is in violation of the Constitution--" "If you need a planet to colonize, I can call for a colony ship and order her captain to transport the Borg to an uninhabited planet, but Starbase 1337 must be returned--" "By denying us the use of this installation, you are violating our constitutional rights. We will be filing a formal complaint to..."

The Vulcan was losing his emotional control, becoming angry at T-1000 the constant interruptions. "End communications with the Borg." Blondie complied. "Hail the Musashi," Spock ordered, followed by, "Captain Rice, it is my understanding that the Borg are using Commander Riehle's disarmament codes to nullify torpedo attacks from a Starfleet vessel. Will the mercenary vessels' weapons be effective against the assimilated starbase?"

"This is Captain Rice to Musashi Battle Group. Shock and Awe, Shock and Awe."

"Stop!" The MV The Freedom Fighter Osama bin Laden, an Excelsior class mercenary vessel, sailed in front of the Musashi from attacking Starbase 1337. It was pointless-- the Musashi's weapons weren't firing, but other mercenary vessels were. "You're violating the constitutional rights of sentient beings!" The bin Laden sailed in front of the MV Death Before Dishonor, a K't'inga WANK class mercenary vessel, and was hit by photon torpedo. "Eek!"

"Captain of the Death Before Dishonor to the Captain of The Freedom Fighter Osama bin Laden. Cease this nonsense or I'll shove my bat'leth so far up your ass, you'll cut your tongue on its blade!" the Klingon mercenary captain transmitted, shaking his honor sword at the viewscreen.

"Premature and excessive," Spock noted of Capt Rice's actions.

"Cease fire," T-1000 demanded as the mercenary vessels' awesome firepower overwhelmed the Borg's ability to adapt their defenses. "You are violating our constitutional rights. We will be filing a--" PENIS cannon fire destroyed the command center, silencing him.

"But ultimately necessary," the Vulcan added.

"This is Captain Rice to Musashi Battle Group. Cease fire, cease fire." The bombardment reduced the starbase to its space frame-- a burning skeleton. "Send security teams aboard Starbase 1337 to sterilize Borg infection and secure core facilities."

"That was fast," Bazza noted. "Let's head down to Risa and celebrate the mission's success."

Beep, beep! "Sir, we received a priority message from Starfleet HQ: the Borg have occupied Risa and captured Admiral Kennedy. HQ wants Mister Spock to negotiate with the Borg for the Admiral's return."

"Fuck me!"

"Do we have time for that?" Blondie asked.


The Vulcan looked over Blondie's shoulder to read the message. "Hail the Musashi."

"Mister Spock, I ordered Starbase 1337's sterilization because the Borg acted in a hostile manner," Capt Rice stated. "Please testify we acted in self-defense..."

"He's covering his ass," Blondie whispered.

"He's covering our asses too," Bazza whispered back. "I'm not letting the Borg ass-rape me for Admiral Ass-Kisser's sake, and I'm not letting Admiral Ass-Kisser ass-rape me for not letting the Borg ass-rape me."

"Captain Rice, the Borg have occupied Risa and captured Admiral Kennedy. Starfleet Headquarters has given Admiral Kennedy's safe return priority over Starbase 1337's recovery, and ordered us to travel to Risa and negotiate with the Borg. Time is vital-- logically, the starbase must be scuttled to prevent the Borg from using it as a staging area for attacks against our rear," Spock stated with suppressed anger. 'The kid gloves have been removed. It is time to kick the Borg's collective buttocks.'

"Yes, Sir." Capt Rice hailed the mercenary vessels, ordering them to recall the security teams before bombarding Starbase 1337 to subatomic particles.

"Fuck. I wonder if Captain Rice masturbates while firing off those cannons of his?" Blondie deadpanned.

Capt Rice wasn't masturbating to Starbase 1337's destruction, but Trigga'Happi was-- the Klingon's penis hammered the vagina of an Emergency Medical Hologram Mark IV as he watched the Shock and Awe on an overhead monitor. "Fuck yes!" Trigga'Happi roared as the holographic woman moaned.

"Captain Rice, set a course for Risa," Spock ordered. "Match speeds with the Musashi-- it is illogical to overtake our escort."

"Aye, Sir."

"That means we have 70 minutes before we get to Risa." Blondie unzipped Bazza's pants, put on a condom, and mounted him.

Spock sat down, lit a blunt, and inhaled deeply to savor the marijuana. "I am becoming too old for this excrement," he thought as Blondie and Bazza bounced like rabbits in heat beside him.




Adm Kennedy moaned in pain and pleasure as a drone sodomized him, pumping nanoprobes into the capillaries lining his intestinal wall. He felt the molecular disassembly of his cells as the nanoprobes rearranged them into mechanical components-- then blades extended from the drone's right hand to remove his testes and scrotum. "Ahhhh!" The pain of castration put him in shock, allowing the Borg Collective's hive mind to overwhelm his. A second drone attached a nanoprobe reservoir to the vas deferens as a third drone attached blades to the right hand-- Adm Kennedy was now an assimilation drone, programmed to sodomize other humanoids and inject nanoprobes into them.

The Borg Queen watched the new assimilation drone join the others in her command center, formerly an exclusive resort for Starfleet admirals. A former member of Species 180-- Ferengi, the most perverted species in the galaxy-- memories of a pornographic film depicting "pegging," a female using a strap-on dildo to anally penetrate a male, inspired her to develop the rapid assimilation process. "Status of Project 696's construction," she demanded.

"40%, estimated time of completion is 8.751 to 9.223 hours," a drone reported.

"Continue with the assimilation of the planet's population and order the newly activated drones, with the exception of assimilation drones, to accelerate Project 696's construction. We must be prepared when the oppressor arrives."

The Borg didn't detect a spyder-- a small four-legged robot-- trailing a cable into the room. 'Oh shit,' Fanboy cursed, watching images transmitted through the cable. A mercenary infamous for his brutal efficiency, Fanboy came to spend some "quality time" with a Risan female quartet he befriended-- he was fucking Risan One and French kissing Risan Two, who straddled Risan One's head so her tongue could reach into Risan Two's vagina, while Risans Three and Four sucked on each other's clitorises-- when Adm Kennedy interrupted the "Musical Horga'hn" radio broadcast to report a Borg "refugee ship" was detected in orbit, the Borg were given political asylum, and the people of Risa should treat the Borg with kindness and respect. Fanboy led the Risans to the Skullfucker, his Firespray class patrol ship, only to meet a Starfleet ensign who gave him a receipt-- to be redeemed in Federation credits-- for the ship they confiscated and donated to the Borg as humanitarian aid. After he broke the ensign's legs, Fanboy spent an hour seeking a way to evacuate his girlfriends and himself from the doomed planet. 'At least I don't have to hear Admiral Ass-Kisser's bitching.' He watched the Queen activate a hologram of drones disassembling Starfleet vessels-- part of the Risan Defense Perimeter before they were donated as humanitarian aid-- for parts to complete Project 696. 'That looks like a ship. Maybe...' He heard footsteps behind him and attached a sound suppressor to his MK23 Mod 1 automatic pistol.

"Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels detected." A drone reported the ships' locations and headings. "Configurations: Galaxy class battleship with structural modifications, one. Akira class heavy cruiser with structural modifications, one. Constitution WANK class heavy cruiser, two. Excelsior class heavy cruiser, one. D'deridex class assault ship with structural modifications, one. K't'inga WANK class battlecruiser, three. B'Rel WANK class cruiser, three. Assessment: Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels pose a moderate threat to the mission." Boom! The Queen took cover in her alcove as a photon torpedo collapsed the roof-- she exited the alcove to see the drone impaled upon a fallen rafter. "Correction: Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels pose a major threat to--" A second rafter spilled the drone's brain upon the floor, killing her.

'Maybe not.' Fanboy pushed his shield-- the assimilation drone he heard behind him, the head split in half by glass from a falling ceiling light-- off his chest. The mercenary looked through the hole in the ceiling to see two robots fly overhead. 'MS-09 Dominators. Height: 18.6 meters. Weight: 62.6 tons empty, 81.8 tons fully loaded. Armament: one chest-mounted PENIS emitter, 24 forearm-mounted chaff grenade launchers, one handheld Warthog torpedo volley system or light PENIS cannon, one power saber. I want one.'

The Queen's response to the sight was to hail the Musashi. "We are political refugees. You are violating our constitutional rights as sentient beings. Lower your shields and--"


Trigga'Happi answered the hail by firing a PENIS emitter through the hole in the command center ceiling, vaporizing the Queen's legs. "Shut the fuck up!" He allowed Haruka to return to her console while the Klingon returned to the captain's chair.

"How does it feel to strike down your enemies like Thor throwing his hammer?" Haruka asked.

"I'd feel better if Starfleet HQ allowed us to buy another squadron of mechanized strikers," Trigga'Happi answered, watching Capt Rice's MS-14S Gladiator lead the mercenaries' MS-09s in battle against the Borg.


The Risans and their guests, imprisoned within concentration camps guarded by assimilation drones, had mixed feelings towards the ex-Gonghe Army mechanized strikers flying overhead. "That one bears the Starfleet insignia! We're saved!" "Those robots--" "Mechanized strikers." "They're good for nothing but war, and war is good for nothing! Starfleet is not a military organization! It shouldn't display such militarism like those Gung-Ho," Gonghe, "firearms fetishists!" A MS-09 fired its Warthog-- two mini-torpedo launchers mounted over a full-sized torpedo launcher, loaded with 14 mini-torpedoes and two photon torpedoes-- at the guard towers flanking the concentration camp gate. "They just violated the constitutional rights of the concentration camp guards!" "Fuck the guards! We're free!" "We cannot leave! The Borg have asked us to donate our bodies to their Collective as humanitarian aid! As Federation citizens, we must--" An assimilation drone pushed the "donor" against a razor wire fence, pulled down his pants, and sodomized him-- the prisoner shouted, "Do not-- oh! Abandon-- ah! The Federation's ideals-- ow! We must-- ah! Respect the Borg's-- oh! Cultural practices-- ow!" as others stampeded out of the concentration camp.


Blue streaks rose from the resort, towards the orbiting ships. "Bogies, 25, Type 6, Type 7 shuttles." A MS-09 pilot reported their headings. "Antimatter warning-- it's in the shuttle cargo bays. Looks like the Borg converted them into Feng Shen," Wing Gods, obsolete Gonghe fighters converted into heavy torpedoes for long-range attacks. "Firing torpedoes." "Firing PENIS." The MS-09s shot down three shuttles before the others climbed out of range.

"Arm Hedgehogs! Lock on phasers! We must destroy the shuttles before they destroy us!" Trigga'Happi ordered.

"No!" the captain of the bin Laden as his ship sailed between the other ships and the incoming shuttles. "There are humanoid life forms aboard!"

"Borg drones detected aboard incoming shuttles," Haruka confirmed.

"I won't let you commit murder by attacking refugee ships!"

"What is this nonsense?! We have sensor data indicating they're carrying large quantities of antimatter!" Trigga'Happi stated.

"The sensor data must have been falsified, because it was transmitted by a lying, thieving mercenary! We--" Three Feng Shen rammed the bin Laden before detonating their warheads, vaporizing it.

"Hedgehogs Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten firing," Haruka reported as phaser and disruptor fire and mini-torpedo volleys intercepted the 19 remaining Feng Shen.

The mercenary captain's actions bewildered Trigga'Happi. "Why the fuck is Captain Moore so hostile towards mercenaries? He's a mercenary himself."

"According to our records, Captain Michael The Voice Of Truth Moore X served in Starfleet before immigrating to the Gonghe Republic and forming the Fahrenheit 9/11 Mercenary Company." The science officer handed a PADD to the Klingon, who pressed a button to play a recording of Capt Moore.

"The Gung-Ho Republic is a savage mob of sociopathic firearms fetishists who depend on lying, thieving mercenaries to maintain order by ruthlessly oppressing the poor, exploited citizens of their worlds!" the late mercenary captain ranted, mispronouncing the Republic's name.

'How does one oppress and exploit a savage mob of sociopathic firearms fetishists?' Trigga'Happi wondered.

"I will reform this capitalist, militaristic society, making it conform to the Federation ideals of communism and pacifism, by joining the Gung-Ho Navy to destroy that brutal, oppressive order from within!" The first recording ended-- a second showed a depressed Capt Moore cry, "How dare the Gung-Ho Navy reject me, a Starfleet officer, for failing a drug test?! As an outstanding citizen of the Federation, it is my duty take diacetylmorphine," heroin, "to suppress the negative emotions of greed, aggression, and jealousy, allowing me to submerge my own identity into the group consciousness to which I belong. Fortunately, Admiral Kennedy donated the USS Washington to support my efforts." Capt Moore's expression became maniacal. "I have renamed the ship in honor of a true freedom fighter, Osama bin Laden, erasing the shame of having a slave owner as a namesake-- I will become a mercenary myself and drive all other mercenaries out of business, forcing the Gung-Ho Republic to emancipate its poor, exploited citizens from the threat of violence!"

The Klingon returned the science officer's PADD. "Why the fuck did we hire him?"

"Considering the fact that Admiral Kennedy donated a ship to Captain Moore, it is possible the Admiral supported Captain Moore's efforts to reform the Gonghe Republic, and Captain Rice hired mercenaries based on recommendations from Starfleet officers without noticing who gave the recommendations."

Trigga'Happi retrieved his own PADD from his cargo pocket. "Note: advise Captain Rice not to accept Starfleet officers' recommendations at face value," he recorded.


Fanboy learned of the Feng Shen attack through the Skullfucker's communicator, which could intercept and decrypt Starfleet transmissions. On one hand, he couldn't hijack a shuttle and fly his girlfriends and himself off Risa-- as a mercenary, he knew the others now viewed all shuttles departing Risa as potential threats, and would shoot first, ask questions later. On the other hand, the fact that his ship forwarded the intercepted transmission to his helmet-mounted communicator suggested it was still functional, and he could fly the Skullfucker to safety. He quietly stepped around fallen rafters and Borg corpses, towards the weather control station where his girlfriends were.

"Halt! Who goes there?" female voices demanded, aiming Thompson M1928 submachine guns at him.

"The monster cock that's going in your tight pussies," the mercenary answered.

"Oh, Fanboy!" The Risans lowered the guns and rubbed their breasts against his arms and legs after he entered the station.

"Hush, Girls. I have a plan to get us out of here. We have to sneak into the Borg command center, dodging both Borg drones and trigger-happy MS," mechanized striker, "pilots to get to my ship. It's risky, but--"

"We trust you." "We know you'll protect us." "We'll follow you to hell and back." "Let's get out of here so we can go back to fucking!"

"Good girls."


Two drones operated on their Queen, replacing the legs she lost to phaser fire. A third approached her to report, "Project 696's propulsion systems are complete. Weapons arrays are 57.46% complete, shield emitters are 56.34% complete-- they will provide complete coverage of the bow and port side, partial coverage of the starboard side and the dorsal and ventral surfaces, and no coverage of the stern."

"Time is critical. Load the uninstalled components aboard Project 696 for later installment. Evacuate the command center and launch Project 696 once I am--" The Queen watched the drone's head explode. "Who dares?"

Fanboy's sound-suppressed MK23 sent a SLAP-- saboted light armor penetrator-- into each drone's head, killing them. "Don't mind us, we're just passing through." He stepped past the command center entrance, stepped backwards, and stared at the Queen. "Do I know you?" The mercenary aimed at a bar of gold-pressed latinum hanging from a golden chain around the Queen's neck. "You're Liquidator Brunt!"

"The designation 'Liquidator Brunt' is obsolete--"

"That's no excuse for cheating me of my pay!" Fanboy kicked the transsexual Ferengi's kneecap, broke the leg in half, and took the latinum.

"How dare you? I am Borg! Return the latinum or--" The Queen felt Fanboy's steel-toed boot impact her forehead, slamming her against the floor.


"Coming, Girls." He led the Risans to an underground theater-- scene of the Starfleet admirals' orgies, now the assembly site for Project 696-- and found the Skullfucker buried under a pile of scrap metal, ignored because the Borg couldn't assimilate the extra-galactic technology in the ship. 'No wonder I couldn't remote control it-- the scrap metal was fucking with my transmissions. What?! Motherfucking space zombies scratched the paint! I'll have their hides for this!' Fanboy began clearing away scrap metal piled in front of the Skullfucker's ramp. When the assembly site guards approached the ship, the mercenary threw the scrap metal at the Borg, dismembering, disemboweling, and decapitating the unlucky drones. 'I feel better now.'

"Are you okay, Fanboy?" "I hope you didn't hurt your back with all that heavy lifting." "Yeah! I wanna ride your cock until I explode, and I cannot do that if your back is hurt!"

"I'm fine." The mercenary smiled to reassure the Risans as the ramp lowered.

"What are those things? Why are they glowing?" Risan One pointed at two orifices on Project 696's stern.

Fanboy stopped smiling when he identified the orifices as impulse drives. "Go, go, go!" He slapped each Risan's buttocks as the females boarded the Skullfucker, and sprinted to the cockpit. The ramp automatically rose behind the mercenary, separating him from the superheated plasma shooting from Project 696's orifices.


Capt Rice aimed his Warthog at the Borg vessel rising from the resort's burning ruins, but confusion stayed his hand. "What in hell is that?!"

"Sensors show the ship is armed with multi-kinetic neutronic mines. The design is apparently a Borg minelayer vessel modified with technology from a Species 8472 bioship, but I do not understand why it was structurally modified to resemble a marital aid," the science officer transmitted.

Project 696 was based on the minelayer the Borg planned to use against Species 8472, the multi-kinetic neutronic mines modified so the blast would spread enhanced nanoprobes across entire star systems. The Borg Queen ordered it modified to resemble a blow-up doll to intimidate the average Starfleet officer and deter attacks.

Capt Rice wasn't an average Starfleet officer-- he felt insulted by the sight of a giant blow-up doll. "Fire at will!" The robots formed an anvil, the orbiting ships formed a hammer, and their combined firepower began beating the shit out of Project 696.

The Queen expressed no fear, ignoring the armor plates blown off Project 696 as the vessel rose into orbit. "Lock on the Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels." Tractor beams locked on the Devil, the D'deridex class warbird, a K't'inga WANK class battlecruiser, and two B'Rel WANK class birds-of-prey as panels on Project 696's "nipples" opened to reveal 14 gravimetric torpedo launchers. "Fire!"

"Fire Hedgehogs!" Four panels on the battlecruiser and two panels on each bird-of-prey opened to allow the Hedgehogs function as designed: fire mini-torpedoes in all directions to intercept incoming torpedoes.

"Arm the Hydra." Eight panels on the warbird opened to reveal Hedgehogs modified to fire Romulan torpedoes. "Fire." 'We were fortunate to serve under Admiral Shinzon during the Dominion War-- a Romulan would never have authorized the purchase of this weapon,' the Reman mercenary captain thought.

Bazza gave a similar order. "Arm Hedgehogs! Fire!"

"Captain, we received a prefix code! It's lowered our shields and disarmed our weapons!" Blondie reported.

"The Borg must have assimilated a Starfleet admiral and retrieved the code from his or her memory," Spock noted.

"Fuck me!" Bazza cursed, watching an incoming gravimetric torpedo onscreen.

"I might as well get one last orgasm." Blondie unzipped Bazza's pants.

Boom! Bazza's eyes reopened to see static clouding the viewscreen. "We're still alive?"

The static cleared to show a Constitution refit class heavy cruiser dive in front of the Devil. "Good news, Mister Spock! The new spoiler smoothes out the ride, increasing the Enterprise Senior's warp and sublight velocities-- and it looks handsome mounted between the warp nacelles!" Capt Montgomery Scott (retired) hailed.

"I am grateful for your assistance, Mister Scott," Spock said.

"Can you also assist us in deleting the fucking prefix code so we can get our fucking shields and weapons back?" Bazza added.

"Press and hold 'Control,' 'Alt,' 'Delete' to restart the computer," Scotty answered.

"Just like that?!"

Project 696's "legs" opened. "The Borg vessel is arming mines," Haruka warned.

"Shock and Awe! Don't let the Borg vessel lay mines!" Trigga'Happi ordered.

PENIS cannon and torpedo fire interrupted the Queen’s protests. "We-- political refugees. You-- violating-- constitutional rights-- beings. Lower-- shields-- donate-- ships-- humanitarian aid."

"Who are they refugees from, anyways?" Bazza wondered.

"It is possible the Borg falsely claimed to be refugees," Spock began.

A bioship suddenly appeared above Project 696. "Contact, one, Species 8472--" Haruka watched the ship transform into a giant robot. "What in hell?!"

The giant robot drew two sabers-- the blades burned red as the cutting mechanisms were activated-- and slashed. Like swordsmen in Chinese martial arts films who projected qi as long-range attacks, the robot's shields extended to cut Project 696 to pieces.

"It is also possible the Borg are, in fact, refugees who abused the Federation's policies on granting political asylum and providing humanitarian aid," Spock finished.

As the robot faced the mercenary vessels, his appearance bewildered the Reman mercenary captain. "Admiral Shinzon?"

"I am Jean-Luc Picard, a former member of Starfleet, a former citizen of the United Federation of Planets," the robot declared. "The Borg Collective kidnapped me, violated my mind and body by assimilating me, violated my soul by making me act against my principles. Those who claim to be New Humans mutilated the Federation for which I was willing to give my life-- they are traitors who abandoned the founding principles of the Federation, and who abandoned me to the Collective. Now I am free of the Collective, free of the physical and mental restraints preventing me from exacting revenge." He raised a saber in salute. "I must destroy the Borg and their New Human collaborators to save the Federation! Strength in honor! Honor in victory!" The robot transformed to bioship mode and disappeared.

"What the fuck was he talking about?" Trigga'Happi echoed the thoughts of everyone in the battle group.

"I don't know, but I want his MS," Capt Rice said.

Blondie heard an alarm as the Devil's computer restarted, canceling the prefix code's effects. "Captain, we received a priority message from Starfleet HQ: a giant robot is attacking the Ba'ku settlement. HQ wants us to negotiate with the giant robot--"

"Tell Starfleet Headquarters our ship is severely damaged and we cannot comply. I no longer have the tolerance for this excrement." Spock turned to the replicator. "Tortilla chips, nacho cheese and jalapeno pepper slices covered, hot." He took the plate of nachos to his chair, lit a blunt, and inhaled deeply to suppress the emotions aroused today.




"IKS Lukara's Honor to unidentified vessel. You are entering Klingon space. Halt and identify yourself or we will destroy you."

"Bai'Ku'Rios, baby! It's me, Fanboy!" The alarm fell silent-- the Vor'cha class attack cruiser no longer targeted the Skullfucker-- as a Klingon female appeared onscreen.

"Fanboy! What the fuck have you been doing?" Colonel Bai'Ku'Rios asked, smiling.

"I was spending some quality time with some Risans when the Borg attacked. Mind if I hitch a ride to Qo'noS so Hemi can fix my ship?"

"Only if those Risan females enjoy the taste of a Klingon female's vaginal lubrication." Bai'Ku'Rios' eyes burned with lust as she stared at the Risans seated behind Fanboy.

"She looks hot," Risan Four whispered to Risan Three. "Totally-- I won't mind licking her pussy," Risan Three whispered back.

"Sure! Let us in and we'll join you in the shower." Fanboy saw the attack cruiser's shuttlebay doors open, and piloted the Skullfucker aboard the Lukara's Honor.


"Ahhhh! My balls! Where are my balls?!"

"The Admiral has regained consciousness," a medic reported.

Adm Kennedy found himself in a field hospital set up near a smoking crater where the resort once stood. Not that he'd recognize it-- the Borg demolished most buildings on Risa to recycle the construction materials, reducing homes to holes in the ground. The Musashi saucer section was parked nearby, two ramps lowered to deploy mechanized strikers, self-propelled artillery, infantry fighting vehicles, and infantry. "Where are my balls?"

"The Borg removed your testes and scrotum, replacing them with a nanoprobe reservoir when they assimilated you. Don't worry, I have friends in Gonghe who'll provide clone replacements for 15 bars of latinum," the medic answered.

"Clone replacement?"

"You order a clone of yourself, which is kept in stasis until you need replacement organs-- then a doctor will harvest the clone's organs and implant them into you."

"That's murder!"

"Legally, a clone in stasis has the same legal rights as an unborn fetus-- you won't be prosecuted for aborting the fetus or killing the clone."

"A clone is p-potentially a sentient b-b-being! By exploiting th-the clone for replacement organs, you're v-v-violating the c-constitutional rights--"

Capt Rice kicked Adm Kennedy's cot, making the eunuch cry. "Get your head out of your ass! The Borg were violating Federation citizens and their constitutional rights! Stop sucking the Borg's collective dicks like they're the victims!"

"H-how d-d-dare you? C-captain Rice, you will b-b-be court m-martialed you for your use of h-homophobic--" Nine 7.65 x 17 mm rounds were fired into Adm Kennedy's head and chest, killing him.

The shooter's speed and stealth surprised Capt Rice, who instinctively drew and aimed two .44 Magnum revolvers in the shooter's direction. "Mister Spock?"

The Vulcan reloaded his PPK and waved his hand in front of the medic's eyes. "The Borg installed self-destruct charges in drones assimilated after 2377-- a failsafe to prevent drones that have left the Collective from becoming a threat, such as Seven of Nine, alias Annika Hansen. You were unaware of the failsafe's existence, and cannot be held accountable for Admiral Kennedy's death. Please inform the medical teams of this danger, Doctor."

"Yes, Sir." The medic repeated Spock's words to his combadge, as if he was hypnotized.

"Neat trick."

Spock holstered the now useless PPK-- Capt Rice's tactical suit protected him from the bullets-- and faced the human. "I have helped you by executing Admiral Kennedy and altering the witness' memories so you will not be prosecuted for his death-- you will not be court martialed for your conduct in negotiations with the Borg, and you will remain in command of the Musashi. Now you will help me."

"Help you?"

"You were given financial support to hire the mercenaries who comprised the Musashi Battle Group. You expected testimony and evidence-- possibly falsified-- to deter prosecution for your use of militaristic means of ending this crisis, instead of the diplomatic means demanded by Starfleet Headquarters. I assume you have the support of powerful individuals within the Federation, possibly Section 31. I want your supporters to support me as well."

Capt Rice heard footsteps behind him and kept one revolver aimed at Spock as the second revolver was aimed rearwards, forcing Scotty to freeze. "For what reason?"

"I want to be President of the United Federation of Planets so I may restore the principles that made the Federation a great power, principles the crew of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701 were willing to give their lives for-- principles denounced by the New Humans, resulting in these 'Dark Ages' where the constitutional rights of our enemies are protected at the expense of the rights of our citizens. Individuals will again be free to express-- or suppress-- their individual emotions instead of being forced to submerge their own identities into the New Humans' group consciousness, and I will again be free to smoke a blunt without having a New Human complain that the marijuana smoke is contaminating the air in his personal space."

Capt Rice smiled, holstering his revolvers. "A man of ideas as well as ideals. You have my support, and will likely have the support of my supporters. I'll contact them now." He marched towards the Musashi's saucer.

Scotty ran to his friend. "Are ye really going to go through with this plan, Mister Spock?"

"It is the most logical course of action," the Vulcan answered.

"And the legalization of marijuana?"

"It is also logical, considering marijuana's medical uses."

Scotty smiled and put his arm around Spock's shoulders. "Well, ye got my vote!"


Not the end.

Li Xiaolong, "Li the Little Dragon," was Bruce Lee's stage name. His namesake does to enemy warships what Bruce Lee did to enemies in his films: beat the shit out of them.

Unlike the Borg's converted shuttles, Gonghe military Feng Shen have no humanoid pilots.

Haruka is based on a character created by Takeuchi Naoko. Mechanized strikers are based on mobile suits from 'Mobile Suit Gundam'-- created by Tomino Yoshiyuki and Sunrise-- adapted for 'Star Trek' technology and renamed because "Gelgoog" is a stupid name for a killing machine.
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.

Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.

They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)

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Darth Fanboy
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Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2006-10-16 03:33pm

To Commemorate the 40,000th view.


Due to the creative bankruptcy of the writing staff and the use of not so clever plot devices, the crew of UPF travels trhough time. After an incident involving tabletop gaming, a fistfight, and the spilling of bongwater on an important control panel. The crew hurtles trhough time towards the year 40,000...

"Greetings Travellers. Praise be upon Highest of Holy Terra and the Emperor's blessed throne that you survived your travels trhough space. I am Inquisitor Dyodrich Melkior of the Ordo Xenos."

"Uhhhhh ok. Hey can you give me a second?" Shep said.

THe inquisitor, confused at the odd request, grranted it. Shep and the others huddled and whispered in silence.

"Jesus Fuck Falk, we're stuck in the fucking Imperium!"

"I told you! If those fucking Games Workshop-Fellating motherfuckers really wanted to, their collective fanwank would actually give rise to a fucking Emperor! 38,000 years of fanwank later and we're stuck in one of the most horrible dystopias humankind has ever fucking concieved!"

"I want a pet Ork." mused Fanboy.

"Listen, we need to fix the time machine to get us back, but we might as well make something out of this shit."

The Inquisitor looked on as the three temporally displaced smut peddlers thought up a plan of action. They conferred for about two minutes before Shep turned back towards Melkior with a grim look on his face.

"Listen, Inquisitor, it is a good thing we found you. We need your help."

"As much as I would like to help a fellow member of my exalted species praise be to His Majesty the God Emperor and the Golden throne upon Holiest Terra..."

"Yea yeah," Shep said with the wave of his arm. "Listen, we're sort of like, well y'know..."

"We like to exterminate filthy non humans just as much as you." Falk said, backing up his ill-spoken partner. "You see, our timeline is being overran by filthy aliens."

The Inquisitor looked shocked and concerned. "Flithy xenos? In the past?"

Shep grinned, knowing that he had an easy mark. "Yeah, you see we're under terrible attack by an evil species known as the Gnomes."

The Inquisitor narrowed his eyes. "I have never heard of these, 'gnomes' before. Tell me, what do they look like?"

Fanboy stepped in, his bloodshot eyes widening and his hands gripping as if he was strangling an invisible gnome. "They appear human, but they're actually horrible horrible tiny little hatfuckers. They stab people...IN THE TAINT."

"Oh! You mean the Squats!" The Inquisitor said, his question answered. HE rubbed his giant chin with his hand and adjusted his hat. "We haven't heard from them in some time. IF they're trying to destroy the timeline, this could be bad news."

"We're doing the best we can," Shep chimed in, cutting right to the point. "But we don't have the weapons needed to butcher them wholesale like they deserve. If only we had better equipment we could save humanity for all time."

"I think I can help you with that." The Inquistor said.

They walked down through the hallways of the Ordo Xenos battleship Eldat Planet BArbecue until they reached a heavily guarded area with thick armored doors. The Inquisitor opened the doors and Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy's jaws nearly dropped to the floor as they gazed in awe at the armory.

"You may help yourselves to whatever you can fit aboard your time travelling craft." said Melkior.

Author's Note: This is all preview material which is subject to change during the actual composing of the UPF40K Chapter, this preview is brought to you by UPF's chief sponsors. Violent Fetish Products Inc, ExploitedRussianHookers.Com, Endangered Species Murdering Travel Agency, Wal Mart, and "Viewers Like You."
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Sith Acolyte
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Location: Feasting on those who fell in battle

Post by Sidewinder » 2006-10-21 11:03pm

Revised and renumbered 23JAN2007
"Technobabble, babble, babble," Doctor Keiko O'Brien ordered, watching the monitor for changes in the experimental subject.

"Technobabble, babble, babble," Dr Rosalind Chao, her assistant, reported.

"Technobabble, babble, babble." Keiko watched the subject perform as predicted. "We did it! We created a biological vibrator!" she cheered as the genetically engineered banana vibrated, ready to pleasure to a woman.

Rosa faced her supervisor. "The Duchess will surely honor you with the Golden Womb for this achievement!" The gold sculpture of a woman's reproductive organs was awarded to female scientists who made important discoveries.

Keiko embraced her assistant. "You deserve the honor as well-- I couldn't have done this without you by my side."

Rosa blushed. "Doctor--" She felt Keiko's lips upon hers-- her mouth opened to admit Keiko's tongue as her hand closed upon Keiko's breast.

"Call me Keiko." The botanist reached under Rosa's skirt and felt vaginal fluids flowing down her thighs.

"Oh, Keiko--" Slam! "Gasp!"

The botanist turned to see a platoon of Cybele's Castration Clamps-- Zeon Defense Force (ZDF) Special Forces, women whose leather corsets incorporated mail armor, whose high heeled boots had electromagnetic soles to let them climb on vertical surfaces-- step through the door, scanning for ambushes and booby traps. "What's going on here?!"

"Don't move." Two Clamps' rifle-mounted tricorders scanned Keiko and Rosa. "Subject One, ID confirmed." "Subject Two, ID confirmed." The Clamps lowered their rifles and stepped aside to let the platoon leader-- identified by a crown inlaid with silver wings-- approach Keiko. "We're sorry to disturb you, Doctor O'Brien, but the sex offender Miles Edward O'Brien has escaped from prison. We're here to protect you and your research," the platoon leader explained.

"What?!" Keiko shook in fear and anger at her abusive ex-husband. "What about Molly and Kirayoshi?!"

"The Duchess has ordered the children to be brought to the Palace of the Amazons for their protection." The platoon leader put a hand on Keiko's shoulder. "In Cybele's name, we will not let them come to harm."

"Thank the gods..."


"Thank God!" Chief Petty Officer Miles O'Brien exclaimed, bandaging bloody fingertips-- he escaped from prison by making lock picks out of his fingernails-- as the stolen shuttle sailed away from Zeon space. "Once we get back to Deep Space 9, I'll call up my war buddies from the Cardassian War, and we'll send a battle group to fire a quantum torpedo down the throat of every goddamn dyke in the Principality of Zeon!"

A voice behind him said, "Don't... count... your eggs... before... they... hatch. We're... not... out of... the woods... yet."

Miles turned to the human-turned-dolphin in the cargo bay, a panty raider and pornographer who was captured by a ZDF garrison and used as a guinea pig for the development of biological weapons. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Sparky! Here!" He poured wine into the dolphin's mouth.

"Cough, cough, cough!"

Miles laughed. "That should put hair back on your chest!" He turned to the controls. "I wonder if I can intercept a broadcast of an old rugby or cricket game?" Miles began fiddling with the communicator. "Hey, I got something!" he exclaimed as the words "Evangelion Wars" appeared onscreen. "Looks like one of those 'Gundam' cartoons Commander Data used to watch."

"What... the... fuck?!" Sparky exclaimed, watching a mechanical dragon transformed into a giant robot. "That's... not... Evangelion... Unit... One!" He watched a tall, muscular man in a United States Army combat uniform pose in front of the robot-- the soldier spun a Colt Single Action Army (SAA) revolver as rails extended from a compartment in the robot's right forearm, guiding a revolver into its hand-- before the soldier and the robot fired at the screen. "That's not... Shinji... Ikari!" The dolphin's flippers pushed against the floor as he tried to reach the viewscreen.

Sparky, formerly known as Spanky VII, Baron of Bukkake, was partially correct. 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' was an animated series produced in the late 20th century. After the copyright expired, Sparky's ancestor, the First Baron of Bukkake, produced 'Neon Revelations Evangelion', a remake "loyal" to the original-- in the last episode, the 14-year-old "hero" used the robot's power to destroy everything in the galaxy except himself and the girl with whom he had a love-hate relationship, so no one would interfere as he raped the girl to express his "love" for her, but the girl stabbed the hero with a broken piece of glass, killing him before she succumbed to despair and committed suicide. Another man produced 'Evangelion Wars', intending to "improve on" the original-- in the last episode, the 19-year-old hero apparently sacrifices himself to save the galaxy and the woman he loved, but the woman refused to believe he was dead and swore to await his return, as the robot carried the hero to Valhalla.

The Barons of Bukkake insisted that 'Neon Revelations Evangelion' was the true 'Evangelion'-- watching 'Evangelion Wars' drove Sparky berserk. "Mother... fuckers... desecrated... the holy... anime... Neon... Revelations... Evangelion! I'll... kill... them all!"

Miles watched a giant fish transform into humanoid monster to fight the robot. "Cool." Crash! "What?! What the fuck are you doing?!" he demanded as Sparky rammed the screen, trying to erase 'Evangelion Wars' from existence.

Red lights flashed. "Warning: hull breach," the ship's computer stated. "Structural integrity field adapting to seal breach... adaptation successful, breach sealed." Crash! "Warning: navigational systems malfunction." Miles kicked Sparky's head, knocking the dolphin unconscious, but the damage was done. "Warning: warp drive offline. Emergency procedures initiated. Exiting warp. Scanning for appropriate landing sites. One found: Class D planet. All passengers please brace for impact."

"Fuck me!" Miles felt like he was locked in a microwave oven as the shuttle entered the planetary atmosphere.



An 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic by Sidewinder, 2006. Based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry.


Lieutenant Junior Grade Harry S. L. Kim was a content man. He was well-paid, which meant he was well-fed, well-entertained-- battle scars proved his masculinity, attracting women the way honey attracted bees-- and well on his way of achieving his ambition of becoming captain of his own ship.

"Emergency beacon detected," the tactical officer reported.

"Red alert," Captain Ai Teppou ordered. "Security teams, be alert for boarders. Remember, Orion pirates often send out fake distress signals to lure passing ships into a trap."

'Here we go again.' Lt Kim often complained about his job as a mercenary-- Capt Ai kept sending him on suicide missions-- before his employer, Steel Angel Security Services, was hired to help "sterilize" the Borg occupation of Risa. At least he was armed and able to fight back when he went on a suicide mission. The recent invasion began when the Borg claimed they were political refugees and were allowed on the "Pleasure Planet." A Starfleet officer even let the Borg use a rapid assimilation process-- sodomizing him to pump nanoprobes into his body-- to "respect their cultural practices." 'I'm not letting some pirate ass-raped me for the sake of peace and equality,' Lt Kim swore, his hand on a phaser pistol grip.

"Scanning... Bogie, one, Type 5 shuttle with Zeon insignia, emergency beacon activated. Two life signs onboard: one human, one dolphin," the tactical officer reported.

"Hail them," Ai ordered.

Miles appeared onscreen, kicking Sparky's head. "You stupid son of a bitch!" He realized he was being hailed. "Hello?"

"MV Steel Angel to Zeon shuttle. You are in Gonghe space. State your business."

"We're saved!" Miles embraced Sparky and kissed the dolphin's forehead.

"Stop! Get... your... gay ass... hands... off... me!" Sparky demanded.

Miles ignored the dolphin. "This is Chief Petty Officer Miles O'Brien! I'm a Starfleet serviceman on a special mission of critical importance! My shuttle is damaged-- you must get me back to Federation space!" He knew Gonghe citizens viewed the Federation and Starfleet through rose-tinted glasses since Capt James T. Kirk saved the Gonghe capital from a Breen attack.

Ai turned to the tactical officer. "Remain at red alert. Aim tractor beams, target the Type 5 shuttle." She turned to the viewscreen. "Steel Angel to Chief O'Brien. We'll be towing your shuttle to a Gonghe Navy base so we can confirm your identity. Are you in need of medical assistance?"

"Yeah, I'm all black and blue thanks to some goddamn dykes," Miles answered.

"I... need... pussy," Sparky added.

"Standby. We'll transport you to sickbay after the shuttle is recovered." Ai ended communications and turned to the tactical officer. "Station security personnel in sickbay. Restrict O'Brien and the dolphin's to sickbay until we get to Naval Station Ziqiang IV."

"Yes, Madam," the tactical officer answered.


Planet GLOCK, named for the manufacturer of the Gonghe military's official pistol and submachine gun, was known as Ziqiang IV, "Self-Motivated to Be Strong IV." After the Gonghe Republic was founded, GLOCK was one of two companies to successfully petition the government to change a planet's name-- the other was Mauser, the manufacturer of the military's official rifle and machine gun. The manufacturer collected royalties for every GLOCK handgun replicated in the Republic-- Gaston Glock's descendants were some of the wealthiest people in the galaxy.

This wealth became visible when the Steel Angel and the Saber Angel, Steel Angel Security Services' two Constitution WANK class heavy cruisers, docked at one of 450 Gonghe military defense stations orbiting the planet. As Miles' hospital bed and Sparky's fish tank were pushed into the station, the sex offenders saw the GLOCK Chairman's gift to the planetary garrison: golden dragons encircling the pillars, making the station resemble an imperial palace. "Jesus Christ." "Holy."

The mercenaries escorted the restrained sex offenders to Senior Captain Marsellus Wallace's office, decorated to resemble a throne room. The garrison commander took a PADD from a mercenary, read the displayed data, and turned to Miles. "Miles O'Brien, Chief Petty Officer, Starfleet?"

"Yeah, now will you please release me? I got a mission to perform," Miles claimed.

"I've contacted the Starfleet liaison at Navy HQ. For security, you must remain aboard this station until you're identity is confirmed-- pirates are known to impersonate Starfleet personnel." Capt Wallace was partially correct-- many Starfleet personnel were criminals. Fortunately for Starfleet, Republic authorities thought these criminals were imposters-- military and police officers would "do a favor" by beating these criminals, breaking every bone in their bodies, before handing them to Federation authorities for prosecution.

'Fuck me,' Miles didn't say. "Can you at least get me out of this fucking bed?"

Capt Wallace ordered, "Unlock his restraints." Military police complied. "We prepared a room for you. I'm afraid the dolphin must remain in his tank-- we don't have accommodations for cetaceans aboard this station."

"Fuck... you," Sparky cursed.

"Shut your blowhole!" Miles reached into the tank to punch the dolphin. "Thank you, Sir," he said to Capt Wallace, ignoring Sparky's curses.


Brigadier Zaia watched stars shoot by the battle bridge viewscreen as the ZSS Burdizzo and two D7-2 class battlecruisers followed the stolen shuttle's warp signature. A member of the Principality of Zeon Special Operations Service (SOS), Zaia was ordered to recapture the sex offenders at all costs-- the SOS was determined to perfect the experimental weapon that mutated Sparky into a dolphin.

The Burdizzo class assault cruiser resembled her namesake castration instrument. The portside "handle" mounted two catapults to launch fighters and shuttles, the starboard side mounted a photon torpedo launcher and a four-barrel mini-torpedo launcher designed to fire 600 torpedoes per minute, the "open jaws" mounted two Delta radiation, Instantly Killing Emission (DIKE) cannons and four warp nacelles. Based on the D7 class battlecruiser, the Burdizzo was equipped with a cloaking device and fitted for ablative armor plates. Zaia wondered if the cloak was effective against Gonghe Navy sensors, and if the armor was effective against Gonghe Navy weapons. 'I don't want to know.' One year ago, Zaia accompanied a female mercenary commanding a WANK cruiser she hired to hunt down two sex offenders who escaped to Klingon space-- she watched the trigger-happy mercenary masturbate as the WANK cruiser's weapons vaporized the sex offenders, their shuttle, and a 440-meter-wide asteroid that got in the way.

"Mistress, we're at the Zeon-Gonghe border," the helmswoman reported. "Incoming, two Tianjian class destroyers, bearing two o'clock high, weapons hot," Lieutenant Junior Grade Sakura Sulu, the tactical officer, reported.

"Full stop," Zaia ordered.

"Mistress, we're being hailed," Lieutenant Junior Grade Jezebel, the communications officer, reported.

"Onscreen." 'Damn, that's an ugly outfit,' Zaia thought as a Gonghe Navy officer appeared, his tactical suit a stark contrast to the Zeon crew's skintight leather uniforms. Gonghe military doctrine required warriors to wear tactical suits-- protecting them from shrapnel, radiation, biological and chemical weapons-- on duty.

"GGV Feidao to Zeon cruisers. State your business," a destroyer captain demanded.

"Burdizzo Battle Group to GGV Feidao, we're in pursuit of an escaped sex offender, requesting permission to enter Gonghe space."

"Incoming, two Tianjian class destroyers, bearing ten o'clock high, weapons hot." Sakura apparently played with her hair-- sign language developed to let women warriors communicate in secret-- to ask, 'Hit-and-run?' She saw Zaia signal, 'No, no, no.'

"Transmit relevant info to us," the destroyer captain demanded.

Zaia turned to Jezebel. "Make it so." The communications officer transmitted a copy of Miles and Sparky's criminal records, edited to hide the fact that Miles served in Starfleet.

"Please standby as higher command is contacted." The destroyer captain ended communications.

Sakura turned to Zaia. "Mistress?"

'So cute, so eager to please.' "Zaia to Papillon," she called to her XO in the aviation bridge.

"Papillon to Zaia."

"Captain Papillon, you have command. I'll be evaluating the battle bridge crew. Contact me when the Gonghe commander has given an answer." Zaia turned to Sakura. "Begin evaluation."

The tactical officer smiled. "Yes, Mistress!" She unzipped her corset to let Zaia's hands "evaluate" her breasts as her mistress kissed her. Jezebel and the helmswoman and retrieved dildos from under their seats, and then joined the orgy.


"Cough, cough, gasp!" Miles inhaled deeply before holding his breath and reentering the bathroom. He knew Zeon would send an operative to kill him, and needed weapons to defend himself. He couldn't reprogram the food slot to replicate a weapon, so he decided to make fertilizer bombs by mixing his shit-- rich in nitrate, an oxidizing agent-- with replicated carbohydrates. 'I'm shoving a brick up Keiko's ass, and lighting the fuse! That'll teach the bitch to respect her husband!' he swore, examining the mixture in the bathtub.

"You... stink!" Sparky exclaimed from the tank beside Miles' bed.

"Shut your blowhole!" Miles threw the "prototype"-- a cherry-sized ball of shit with a cigarette inserted to form a fuse-- into the tank and dived under the bed.

Boom! "Squeal!"

Miles exited his "bomb shelter" to see water leaking from cracks in the tank. "Victory!"

"You... bitch! I'll... kill... you!"

Miles laughed. "Don't get your panties in a bunch!" He replicated sewing needles to form shrapnel and flares to form fuses, reentered the bathroom, and began "mass-producing" bombs. Surveillance cameras monitored this, but security guards weren't monitoring the cameras-- they were puking out their guts after they saw the sex offender play with his own shit.


Major Jules Winnfield-- recently promoted from the rank of Sergeant Major-- sensed a disturbance in the Force, the "shatterpoint" upon which the lives of thousands of sentient beings hung in the balance. 'Someone needs an ass kicking.' He gripped his "knight saber"-- a device projecting an energy beam to a fixed length to serve as a blade-- and went in search of someone to cover his back.

Lt Kim sat in a cafe, sipping Raktajino as his PADD displayed advertisements for starships. 'Ex-Gonghe Navy vessel, Constitution WANK class heavy cruiser... Ex-KDF vessel, K't'inga class battlecruiser... Ex-KDF vessel, B'Rel class scout... What, no one wants to be captain of a freighter or a liner, something that doesn't get in trouble all the time?' He saw another ad. 'Ex-Starfleet vessel, Intrepid class... luxury liner?' Kim sighed. 'I heard rumors that Starfleet officers sold critical components aboard their ships for beer money, but this is ridiculous!' A metal fist slammed against the table. "What the fuck?!" Kim rose from his chair and reached for his phaser. "Major!" He froze in fear.

"You're alert. That's good." Jules put his prosthetic right hand on Kim's shoulder. "We got work to do: someone needs an ass kicking."

'Us?' Kim had a bad feeling, the same feeling he had whenever he went on a suicide mission.

"We ain't the ones bending over to get our asses kicked. Come on." Jules led Kim towards the room where Miles and Sparky were, and were stopped by two guards.

"Halt! This is--" The senior guard recognized Jules. "Sergeant Major Winnfield?"

"Sergeant Jackson, I sense a shatterpoint in that room," Jules pointed at a door behind the guards, "and I'm gonna hit it before it hits us."

"The thing you sensed when that Breen platoon tried to ass-rape us? Fuck." The guard looked around. "You still got your old uniform?" he whispered.


"Put it on before you come back, or the Commander will rip out my spine."

"Gotcha." Jules turned to Kim. "Stay here and await my return."

"Yes, Sir." Kim watched Jules sprint down the hallway.


Two Tianjian class destroyers escorted the Burdizzo Battle Group towards Planet GLOCK. Republic authorities reviewed Steel Angel report on the stolen shuttle's discovery, and decided to let Zaia retrieve the ship-- now the woman warrior must convince them to let her retrieve the sex offenders.

Meanwhile, Capt Wallace, escorted by four warriors, approached Miles and Sparky's room. "Commander Wallace to Chief O'Brien. I must speak with you. May I enter?"

"Uh, no, you see, we're, uh... making love!" Miles turned to Sparky. "Squeal, you son of a bitch! We got to make this sound convincing!" he whispered.

"Fuck... you!" the dolphin cursed.

Miles punched Sparky. "Squeal!"

"Squeal!" Splash! "Squeal!"

"You're having sex with a cetacean?" Capt Wallace asked, incredulous.

"Yeah!" Splash! "Squeal!" "Can you give us some privacy?" Splash! "Squeal!"

"No." Capt Wallace ordered the guards to open the door, letting him see Miles-- his hands covered in shit, bombs hanging from pockets crudely sewn on his clothes-- punch the dolphin. "What in hell?!"

Miles gripped a flare igniter. "These are fertilizer bombs! Get back or I'll blow you all to pieces!"

"You're an imposter!" Capt Wallace accused.

"I'm not an imposter, I'm a Starfleet NCO," non-commissioned officer, "and I'm getting back to the Federation if it's the last thing I do!"

Capt Wallace drew his GLOCK 50 automatic pistol. "Shoot him!" The warriors aimed MP30 submachine guns at Miles, confident the tactical suits would protect them from the blast and shrapnel-- before Sparky's tank shattered, the water sweeping the humanoids off their feet.

Outside the room, Lt Kim slipped on the water now flooding the hallway. "Fuck!" As he laid on the floor, he saw a man ride a dolphin out of the room, down the hallway. "What the fuck?"

"This... is all... your... fault... mother... fucker!" Sparky accused.

"Shut your blowhole and get us to the shuttlebay, you stupid son of a bitch!" Miles ordered.

"You... shut... up!" Rubber bullets ricocheted off the floor, walls, and ceiling as the warriors recovered. "Fuck... me!" Sparky stopped trying to talk, his flippers pushing against the floor as he tried to reach the hangar. A man in a Gonghe Army dress uniform stepped in front of him. "Move... mother... fucker!"

"Get out of--" Miles watched the man become a blur-- then he felt the man's boot impact his face, knocking him off the dolphin's back.

Jules psychokinetically pulled the flares out of the bombs, disarming them. "Piece of shit terrorist." He saw Capt Wallace and the warriors run towards him

"Li, Willis, apprehend the imposter. Yuan, Thurman, come with me." Capt Wallace ran after Sparky, who was still trying to swim on the floor.

A warrior recognized Jules. "Sergeant Major Winnfield? What are you doing here? I thought you," he saw Jules signal him to be quiet, "were on leave," the warrior finished.

Jules saw Lt Kim run to him. "Sorry I'm late, I had to alert the Teppou sisters." He noticed the man was out of breath. "You need to work out more. Join me in the gym at 1700 hours for some PT," physical training.

"Fuck," Lt Kim cursed between breaths.


"Mistress, we're being hailed."


"GGV Feidao to Burdizzo Battle Group. We received word that the sex offenders built a terror bomb and threatened the garrison commander. One criminal, who identified himself as 'Miles O'Brien,' has been apprehended. One criminal, who identified himself as 'Sparky,' boarded the stolen shuttle and escaped. What are your plans?"

"Burdizzo Battle Group to Feidao. We will separate into two groups. The Penectomizer will continue to Naval Station Ziqiang IV and discuss the matter of Miles O'Brien with your officers. The Burdizzo and the Eunuchizer will pursue Sparky and the stolen shuttle," Zaia answered.

"Please standby as higher command is contacted," the destroyer captain ordered.

"I never imagined Gonghe military officers were so enthusiastic about covering their asses," Jezebel commented.

"GGV Feidao to Burdizzo Battle Group. Two MVs were hired to escort you as you pursue the stolen shuttle. Please standby until the MVs arrive, ETA," estimated time of arrival, "ten minutes."

"Contact, two, Constitution WANK class heavy cruisers," Sakura reported.

Zaia recognized one of the ships: the MV Steel Angel, whose weapons vaporized a 440-meter-wide asteroid. "Damn."

"That was fast," the destroyer captain noted. "GGV Feidao to Burdizzo Battle Group. We'll escort the... Penectomizer... to Naval Station Ziqiang IV. Steel Angel Security Services will aid the Burdizzo and the... Eunuchizer's... pursuit of the stolen shuttle."

"Roger, Feidao." Zaia ordered the ZSS Penectomizer to follow the Gonghe Navy destroyers to Planet GLOCK.

Jezebel commented, "The mercs are probably here to keep an eye on us." Although they had significant trade relations, diplomatic relations between Zeon-- founded by British militant feminists-- and Gonghe-- founded by Chinese People's Liberation Army super soldiers, genetically engineered to fight Augments during the Eugenics Wars-- were often tense. The Republic, inheriting the Chinese founders' suspicion of eunuchs, criticized the Zeon Justice Ministry for castrating male sex offenders. The Principality, wary of male-dominated societies, criticized the Gonghe Education Ministry for teaching girls that condoms were designed as waterproof seals for rifle and machine gun muzzles. "Mistress, we're being hailed."


"ZSS Burdizzo, this is the Steel Angel-- Oh, hi, Zaia! Ooh, you were promoted! Congratulations!" Ai cheered.

"Thank you, Love Guns," a direct translation of Ai's name.

"The Ziqiang IV planetary garrison hired us to aid your pursuit of a criminal. For security, please transmit relevant info to us."

Zaia turned to Jezebel. "Make it so."

The Steel Angel's communications officer quickly examined the data displayed above her console. "It matches the info we received from the garrison commander."

"Okay, get ready to rock!"


Sparky piloted the shuttle-- its computer reprogrammed by Miles to obey men's orders-- into the Federation space, towards an asteroid base. Established by Lord Spanky II, the base was where six Barons of Bukkake attempted to create a functional Evangelion, a clone of God with the power to erase the physical and emotional barriers between humans so their souls could merge together to be reborn as a one perfect being-- not the grotesque transforming dragon from 'Evangelion Wars' that actually enforced such barriers, as evidenced by the false Shinji's showing off, spinning and juggling his guns to impress woman.

The Evangelion was still incomplete, without the holy powers demonstrated in 'Neon Genesis Evangelion', but Sparky was confident it was powerful enough to destroy a D7 class battlecruiser. 'I will rape the Principality of Zeon and avenge the humiliation I suffered in the bitches' hands!' the dolphin swore, starting the Evangelion's "super solenoid engine"-- matter/antimatter reaction assembly.

The Burdizzo and the Eunuchizer, flanked by the Steel Angel and the Saber Angel, approached Sparky's asteroid base as the 200-meter-tall robot emerged from a camouflaged hangar. "That looks like a castrated Evangelion Unit 01," Jezebel commented. "No draconian cruise mode, no atomic turbojets or booster rockets, no 280 mm Gauss cannons, no CQC," close quarters combat, "claws."

Zaia sighed. 'Damn otaku,' fan. "Is there a cockpit?"

"Affirmative: back of the neck. One life sign, cetacean male, detected."

"Sparky must be captured alive, I say again, Sparky must be captured alive. All ships, firing pattern Bobbitt Three," named for a woman who severed the penis of her abusive husband.

"Say again?" Ai asked.

"Castrate the robot." Zaia watched the Steel Angel's heavy PENIS cannon blast the Evangelion in half. "I said castrate, not disembowel!"

"Incoming, twelve o'clock!" Sakura warned, watching the robot's left leg fly towards the Burdizzo.

"Evasive action!" The assault cruiser dived to dodge the leg.

The robot's upper body spun like a propeller before crashing into the asteroid-- Sparky would puke if he were still a man. "Target... Zeon... cruisers. Positron... rifle--" He disconnected the weapon from its mount on the Evangelion's back, and noticed the rifle barrel was broken. "Mother... fucker!" He couldn't open the weapons bay doors on the Evangelion's pauldron. "Forgive... me... noble... ancestors." He tore open the doors to draw the progressive knife. The robot pushed against the asteroid, launching itself towards the Burdizzo.

"Fire DIKEs!" Zaia watched the beams pierce the Evangelion's shields, scorching its armor.

Sparky drew a second knife. "Justice... through... penetration!" He threw the knives into the DIKE cannon barrels.

The impact shook the battle bridge crew-- fortunately, they wore wear seatbelts to prevent serious injuries. "Mistress, DIKEs One and Two are inop!" inoperable.

"Scramble interceptor and MS squadrons!" Zaia ordered. "Scramble fighters!" Ai ordered.

"MS pilots, prepare to scramble. I'll lead in the Queen of Battle. Commander Wu, you have command of the Saber Angel," Colonel Ren Teppou, the Saber Angel's captain, ordered as she marched into the turbolift.

Sparky ignored the ZDF interceptors and mechanized strikers launching from the Burdizzo and the Eunuchizer. The F-4 Dora interceptors' weapons were too light to threaten him. The MS-6F Zealots, led by a MS-7S Glory command MS, were insects that would be crushed in the Evangelion's hands. The robot's fists slammed against the asteroid to break off pieces of rock, which the dolphin threw at the Zeon cruisers. The mechanized strikers swarmed around the Burdizzo and the Eunuchizer, intercepting flying rocks that got past the interceptors and the Steel Angel's F-7 Viper fighter squadrons.

He was forced to reevaluate his opinion of the ZDF mechanized strikers when a thermal-electric whip extended from the Glory's right wrist to entangle an incoming rock-- the MS spun and released the rock in the Evangelion's direction. "Bitch!" the dolphin cursed, watching the rock break off the robot's horn.

Ren's MS-9S Tyrant command MS led seven MS-9 Dominators to Sparky's blind side-- the gaping hole where the Evangelion's lower body was-- taking advantage of the dolphin's obsession to punish the women warriors. "Odd numbers, target left armpit. Even numbers, target right armpit. Avoid reactor and fuel tanks. Ready, aim, fire!"

"What... the fuck?!" Sparky's head turned to see the Evangelion's arms, severed by the mechanized strikers' light PENIS cannons and Warthog torpedo volley systems, fly away. "No... fair!"

The Tyrant stowed its Warthog to draw its power saber-- the left hand still gripped the light PENIS cannon-- as it rocketed towards the Evangelion's head. The robot turned to the MS, its mouth open, but Sparky failed to bite the Tyrant in half-- Ren filled its mouth with PENIS bolts, blasting a hole to the back of the neck, before the saber severed the upper jaw.

Sparky was blinded when the Evangelion's head flew away from the body. "Initiate... self-destruct... sequence." Silence answered him-- the robot's computer no longer functioned. "Initiate... self--" He felt the "entry plug"-- pilot's escape capsule-- being pulled out of the robot. "Squeal!"

"One life sign, cetacean male, detected," Ren reported, carrying the capsule away from the robot's wreckage.

"Burdizzo to MS commander, bring the cetacean to us. The freak will pay for the trouble he caused," Zaia swore.

"My orders were to deliver him to Republic authorities," Ren answered.

'Bitch.' "A pity. The Principality posted a bounty for Sparky's capture: 1000 bars of latinum."

"Life signs are falling, the subject is dead. I'm handing the body to Zeon medics to confirm the subject's ID." The Tyrant handed the capsule to the Glory.

"Beam that cetacean freak into the brig," Zaia ordered. "And prepare the bounty."

"You think these traitors to the female sex are worth that much money?" Jezebel asked.

"No, but our lives are."

Jezebel sighed. 'Damn mercenaries.' "Yes, Mistress."


Capt Wallace was pissed. The incident with "the imposter" publicly humiliated his command and himself. Anger and hatred filled his eyes as he stared at the unconscious man in the cell. "Warriors, beat the imposter until you break every bone in his--"

"Wait, we need him alive," Zaia stated.

Capt Wallace angrily turned to the woman warrior. "Miss Zaia, this man was caught committing a terrorist act aboard a Gonghe military facility. The Principality's needs are subordinate to the Republic's in Gonghe space."

'If we were in Zeon space, I'd castrate you for this.' Zaia smiled, hiding her anger-- she was outnumbered and outgunned aboard Naval Station Ziqiang IV-- and said, "Hand him to us, and I'll make it worth your while."


"The Zeon military is growing, but our domestic gun manufacturers are unable to keep up with our needs. If you negotiate an arms deal worth of millions of bars of latinum, that's a positive note on your record, yes?"

Capt Wallace calmed down. "Then let's negotiate."


Miles awoke with a splitting headache. "Argh! I haven't felt like this since the time I downed a half a barrel of Klingon blood wine!"

"Good, you're awake. It's not right for you to be unconscious before your emasculation."

Miles stared at the woman wearing a crown inlaid with silver wings. "Who the fuck...?" He saw a bronze castration clamp adorned with sculpted cherubs, used to ritually castrate male followers of the goddess Cybele, in her hand. "No." A hand touched his shoulder-- he turned to see Keiko holding a scalpel.

"Welcome back, Miles." The botanist smiled as the platoon leader put the clamp on the sex offender's genitals, making him wince. "Don't worry, I'm not going to castrate you-- the SOS is developing a biological weapon that can transform men into women, and they need to know if your testes can become ovaries. Your penis, on the other hand..."

"Stop, you sick bitch!" Miles struggled against his restraints as Keiko lowered the scalpel. "How dare you?! Noooo!"


"Noooo!" Sparky rammed his head against the bars, trying to escape-- by busting open the cage or by busting open his skull, it didn't matter-- as the opening theme of 'Evangelion Wars' played nearby. "Turn... off... the TV! You... bitch! I'll... kill... you if... you don't... turn off... the TV!"

A guard entered the prison block. "Shut up!" She shoved a cattle prod down the dolphin's blowhole, silencing him. "My favorite show is on!" She exited the block and raised the television volume.

Sparky was a statue, unable to move or talk. Unfortunately, he could still breath-- despite his wishes, he wouldn't die from listening to the false Shinji sing a Johnny Cash song. 'I fell down into a burning ring of fire, and I cannot get out!'

"And it burns, burns, burns..."



Not the end.

Jules and Capt Wallace are named after characters created by Quentin Tarantino and Roger Roberts Avary.

Anno Hideaki and Gainax created-- and destroyed-- 'Neon Genesis Evangelion'. The F-4 Dora is based on the Dopp fighter from 'Mobile Suit Gundam'-- created by Tomino Yoshiyuki and Sunrise-- adapted for 'Star Trek' technology and renamed after the women's rights activist Dora Black (1894-1986). The F-7 Viper is based on the Mark VII Viper from 'Battlestar Galactica', created by Glen A. Larson and Ronald D. Moore. The command mechanized strikers are based on the MS-7B3 Gouf Custom and MS-9F Dom Tropen.

In case anyone's curious, Tianjian means, "Heavenly Sword," Feidao means, "Flying Saber," and Ren Teppou means, "Romancing Guns"-- an appropriate name for Ai's younger sister.


In the Fortress of Solitude, at the center of the Fanfic Galaxy, Prime Dalton sat in his throne, assembling a scale model of a Constitution class heavy cruiser. 'Strange, I don't recall this thing having a spoiler.' The Fanfic Master examined the instructions, shrugged, and put the wing-- mounting two impulse engines and two phaser emitters-- between the warp nacelles.

Knock, knock. "Milord, it is Dalton Two-Three. We detected another fanfic paradox."


Dalton 2-3, a clone in Prime Dalton's service, entered the throne room. "Milord, we detected another plotline branching out from another plotline branch in--"

"The 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic'?"

"You are correct, Milord."

"What kind of trouble did those idiots," authors of the 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic', "caused this time?"

"Milord, apparently they created a parallel dimension, an 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic, so they could write stories featuring giant robots from Japanimation."

"Onscreen." Prime Dalton's eyes widened to see two Zaias-- one from the 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic', one from 'Love Guns'-- sitting on a bed. "What is this?"

"Milord, apparently a ship from the 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' and a ship from the 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic have made contact through a dimensional rift."

Prime Dalton pressed a button on the armrest's integral remote control to raise the volume.

"Something on your mind?" Zaia One asked.

Zaia Two blushed. "I was curious, if I have sex with my counterpart from a parallel dimension, will that me a lesbian or a narcissist?"

Zaia One smiled. "Let's find out." She kissed Zaia Two, whose mouth opened to admit Zaia One's tongue.

"Milord, shall we...?"

"Hush," Prime Dalton ordered, watching the Zaias unzip each other's corsets to play with each other's breasts. "Leave the writers alone-- they're doing good work."

"Yes, Mi-mi-mi..." Dalton 2-3 became tongue-tied as Zaia One opened a drawer under the bed to retrieve a strap-on dildo.

"And get the fuck out of here."

The clone nodded and exited the room.
Last edited by Sidewinder on 2007-01-24 02:31am, edited 1 time in total.
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.

Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.

They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)

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Post by Sidewinder » 2006-11-08 05:39pm

Revised and renumbered 23JAN2007








The military commanders of the Federation of United Communists for the Kinetic Uprising of Peoples (FUCKUP)-- Fleet Admiral Rick Berman, Admirals Brannon Braga and David Brin, General Stewart Davies, and Ahdar Stilgar-- sat at a conference table. President Gene Roddenberry sat at the head of the table, covered in shadows. "The President's eyes became light sensitive as he became older," Adm Berman explained. "Now, regarding our plan to neutralize the traitor Spock and regain control of the Federation government. Colonel Rodgers would've been successful, and the traitor Spock would've been in our hands, if we had better intelligence," he didn't notice Stilgar cover his mouth to hide a snicker, "in the Federation. We conclude the need to plant spies in the Presidential staff, who'll inform us of the traitor Spock's whereabouts."

"What about our spies in the traitor Starfleet? Why didn't they report that Spock was going to Zeon Prime?" Adm Brin noted.

"You mean Lieutenant Zero Douji, alias Agent Zulu? The fool was caught sabotaging the USS Tasmanian Devil's antimatter containment unit." Stilgar activated the table's integral holoprojector to play a recording of a human male in a Starfleet uniform, his face cut and bruised, his arms bound behind his back.

"I just needed some beer money! Come on, everyone does it! No harm--" A hand, gripping a Colt, Smith and Wesson B-29 revolver, pistol whipped him. "Ah! You filthy piece of monkey shit! When I get-- What? No, stop! You can't--" The hand squeezed the trigger-- the EFMJ bullet's kinetic energy beheaded Lt Douji.

"That's a little harsh, isn't it? As junior officers, we all 'salvaged' components and sold them for some beer money," Adm Braga commented.

Stilgar frowned at Adm Braga. "Surely you jest." His eyes widened in shock. "You're serious."

"No harm ever came of that-- an antimatter containment unit isn't a critical component of the warp core. I mean, I can hardly be held responsible for the warp core breach that destroyed the Yamato." 'I never thought I'd be grateful that nigger Varley booted me off his ship,' Adm Braga thought of his former commanding officer, who wanted to prosecute the then lieutenant commander for destruction of government property and reckless endangerment-- the charges against him were dropped when Captain Donald Varley died aboard the USS Yamato.

Stilgar turned to Adm Berman, who expressed no surprise at Adm Braga's revelation, as if he approved of such behavior. Adm Brin only covered his face, embarrassed. Gen Davies looked no more-- or less-- constipated than usual. 'What in hell have I gotten my people and myself into?'

"We must replace Lieutenant Douji," Adm Brin stated. "As Confucius said, 'Know your enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be imperiled.'"

"Sun Tzu said that," Stilgar corrected.


"Sun Tzu said, 'Know your enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be imperiled.'"

"How dare you?! I'm a knowledgeable historian who wrote four books on human history! You're not even human, so don't try to correct my knowledge of human history!"

"Calm down, Dave," Adm Berman pleaded. "Remember, Ahdar Stilgar and the Son'a are our friends and allies." He turned to Gen Davies. "You have a spy in the traitor Marine Corps, right?"

"I had a--"

"Have him request a transfer to the traitor Spock's security detachment, so--"

"Will you listen to me?!" Gen Davies demanded. "I had a spy in the traitor Marine Corps. Had-- past tense. Corporal David Evan Kendall, alias Agent Kilo, was," 'high on marijuana, got the munchies, put a ration pack on a box of grenades and used his phaser to heat up his meal, getting himself,' "killed in a training accident."

"Damn. Well, we still need a spy in the traitor Starfleet and in the traitor Spock's staff. Does anyone have a subordinate they can use up and throw away like toilet paper-- I mean, trust to perform this vital mission?" Adm Berman asked. Adm Braga and Gen Davies answered him with blank stares.

"Since that giant robot destroyed the Ba'ku settlement and allowed us to reclaim our home planet, we've regained our true faces." Stilgar put a hand on his cheek to feel his smooth skin, healed by the metaphasic radiation in Ba'ku's planetary rings. "I propose disguising two of my subordinates as Ba'ku refugees so they may travel within the false Federation-- even join the traitor Starfleet-- without arousing suspicion."

"No. Such deception isn't true to the President's vision," Adm Berman stated.

"Why don't you the President speak for himself?" Stilgar rose from his seat. "President Roddenberry, we must have a spy in the traitor Starfleet and in the traitor Spock's staff. As Sun Tzu--"

"Confucius!" Adm Brin interrupted.

The Son'a ignored him. "Said, 'Know your enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be imperiled.' We are in peril-- we need intelligence to save our Federation and ourselves. Do you approve of my plan to disguise my subordinates as Ba'ku refugees so they may travel within the false Federation without arousing suspicion?"

Adm Berman put a hand under Pres Roddenberry's chin, pushing it so the President looked like he was talking. Adm Berman's other hand covered his mouth as he said, "No. Such deception--" Then Pres Roddenberry's head fell off.

"Gasp! You killed him!" Adm Brin accused.

"No, no, the President's fine!" Adm Berman pawed the floor, seeking Pres Roddenberry's head. "His joints became arthritic as he became older--"

"This ain't arthritis, this is rigor mortis!" Gen Davies exclaimed as Adm Berman put the head back on Pres Roddenberry's body.

Stilgar's expression didn't change. "How long has the President been dead?" he calmly asked.

"The President's not dead! He's just... tired!" Adm Berman insisted.

The Son'a drew his tricorder to scan the corpse. "I detect large amounts of formaldehyde, methanol, and ethanol-- embalming chemicals. Cause of death... heart attack. Estimated time of death... 5.45 to 5.80 years ago."

"He's not dead!" The head fell off again.

Stilgar stowed the tricorder. "I understand why you'd conceal Admiral Roddenberry's death from the public-- you need him to uphold the legitimacy of the FUCKUP government. But as your co-conspirators--"

"There's no conspiracy! Conspiracies are a betrayal of the President's vision!" Adm Berman shouted from the floor as he sought Pres Roddenberry's head.

"We must know of such details to better plan our actions in support of our agenda and in opposition to the traitor Spock's," the Son'a finished.

"No opposition! No conflict within the true Federation! We're all one people, united in our struggle for peace and equality! Ha!" Adm Berman cheered, rising from the floor to put the head back on Pres Roddenberry's body. "Dave, please replicate a roll of duct tape." Beam! "Ah!"

Gen Davies, Adm Braga and Brin turned to see Stilgar holster a disruptor pistol. "What the fuck?!" "What in hell are you doing?!" "You killed him!"

"No, I just stunned him. Help me get him to sickbay. We're going to surgically alter Admiral Berman to become President Roddenberry's exact double."


"You just saw that we cannot disguise a dead president as a living one, but we still need President Roddenberry to uphold the legitimacy of our government. Well, considering how loyal Admiral Berman is to the President's vision, I propose making Admiral Berman the President." Adm Braga and Gen Davies answered him with blank stares. "Answer me! Do you want to win this war?!"

Adm Braga and Gen Davies stared at each other, and stared at Stilgar. "Yes." Adm Braga turned to Gen Davies. "Get his feet." "No, you get his feet!" "I don't have a foot fetish! I'll get his left arm, Stilgar will get his right arm, you get his feet!" "I ain't touching his stinking feet! You get them!"

'What is that human expression of frustration?' the Son'a asked himself. 'I remember now: fuck me.'


Bosco A. "Bad Attitude" Baracus was the first human Chancellor of the Klingon Empire. Born in the 20th century, B. A. was brought to the 24th century by time-traveling Klingon warriors. Former Chancellor Martok wanted to fight a great warrior on pay-per-view to prove his warrior skills to his subjects, and to earn a shitload of money-- he lost his job because he was foolish enough to fight Baracus.

After B. A. settled down in Qo'noS, the Klingon capital-- he beat the shit out of everyone foolish enough to challenge him, deterring the Klingons from challenging his position as leader of the Empire-- Baracus immediately demanded to know what happened to the A-Team, the commando unit he was a proud member of. He learned that after he was taken from the 20th century, the remaining members were arrested and court martialed, but Holland M. "Howling Mad" Murdock went berserk during the trial-- the judge, terrified, declared the A-Team not guilty by reason of insanity. After their release from military custody, the remaining members went their separate ways, got married, and had children.

B. A. wanted to recreate the A-Team, so he did research on the remaining members' descendants, finding three who were now mercenaries. Col Kahless Smith, John "Hannibal" Smith's descendent, was a human-Klingon hybrid who served in the Gonghe Army Special Forces-- B. A. hired him to lead the Yan-Isleth, the "Brotherhood of the Sword" charged with defending the Chancellor. Lieutenant Commander Starbuck Peck, Templeton "The Faceman" Peck's descendent, served as a fighter pilot in the Gonghe Navy-- he was hired to lead the fighter squadron stationed aboard Qo'noS One, the Chancellor's Negh'Var class command ship.

Captain Dakuan Murdock, Howling Mad's descendant, was a human-Vulcan hybrid who served as a hopper pilot in the Federation Marine Corps. He reportedly became insane after his hopper was shot down in the Battle of Ajilon Prime, but B. A. was certain Dakuan and his father inherited Howling Mad's madness. 'What kinda man would marry a woman who was horny only once every seven years?' Nonetheless, Dakuan had some useful skills, like the telepathic power to make someone hallucinate about pink bunnies-- few people, including B. A., Kahless Smith, and Starbuck, were immune to Dakuan's telepathic power-- so he was hired to pilot the Yan-Isleth assault shuttle stationed aboard Qo'noS One.

The new A-Team quickly earned the Yan-Isleth's respect. Kahless Smith's gunblade-- a .44 Magnum revolver-saber hybrid with a 91-centimeter-long blade-- allowed him to win one-on-ten battles against Yan-Isleth members, the greatest swordsmen in the Klingon Empire. Starbuck's brains made him a good fighter both in and out of the cockpit. Dakuan... even the fiercest warriors in the Klingon Empire, those who laughed in the face of an orbital bombardment, shook in fear of "the Crazy."

'I'm glad we got each other's back.' The Chancellor led a Yan-Isleth platoon to the Great Hall. 'I dunno what kinda tricks that pointy-eared guy got up his sleeve, and I ain't taking no chances,' B. A. thought as Pres Spock and his bodyguards marched into the hall. "Welcome to Qo'noS, Mister President. You want something to eat?"


Spock calmly explained his situation to B. A.: the Federation was a Klingon ally and trade partner, it was currently fighting rebels who opposed his economic reforms, and he wanted the Chancellor to assure the Klingon Empire would aid the Federation in its fight against the rebels.

"The Empire got enough stuff to deal with: men who need work, women who need love, kids who need learning, fools who need an ass kicking. Why should the Empire go deal with other people's stuff?" B. A. demanded. "Besides, what is it about your economic reforms that got those rebels so fired up?"

"The rebels oppose my reforms as a betrayal to the Federation's ideals, which they claim were based on ideals espoused in 'The Communist Manifesto'."

B. A. frowned, an expression promising an ass kicking to the fool who disrespected him. "Say again?"

"The rebels are communists inspired by Karl Marx's teachings."

"Commies?! There are commies in the Federation?!"


Baracus' expression promised an ass kicking so bad, his steel-toed boot would go in the fool's anus out the fool's head, crushing the internal organs in between. "I hate commies! I spent four years fighting those thieves, murderers, and rapists in Vietnam!" The A-Team members were United States Army servicemen who fought in the Vietnam War. "And you're telling me there are commies in the Federation, opposing economic reforms that'll let your people live the American Dream?!"

Spock was familiar with the term-- the late James T. Kirk often said becoming a starship captain fulfilled his American Dream. "Yes."

"That's it! General Martok!"

The former chancellor appeared behind the current one. "Yes, Chancellor."

"Mobilize the KDF," Klingon Defense Forces. "Some fools need an ass kicking, and we're gonna deliver that ass kicking!"

Martok smiled. "May the coming war bring honors to you and glory to the Empire." B. A. backhanded him, stamping the word "FOOL"-- the letters sculpted on Baracus' gold rings-- on the Klingon's forehead. "Argh!"

"Don't give me that jibba jabba about honor and glory-- there ain't no honor and glory in a real war! We're fighting the commies so our people can prosper and raise their families in peace! Now go work on your marksmanship! I don't want my warriors swinging swords while the commies rock 'n' roll with machine guns-- that makes 'em look like fools, which makes me look like a fool! I got no pity for those kinda fools!"

Martok climbed off the floor. "Yes, Chancellor."


The CSS Visionrazor, a Prometheus class tactical cruiser, sailed toward Qo'noS. Col Rodgers stood in the bridge, confident the cloaking device would conceal his ship from Klingon sensors. To ensure the mission's success, Col Rodgers wore his "ninja uniform" to inspire the Redshirts to fight harder in the coming battle.

The tactical officer reported, "Sir, we've detected the Enterprise Senior--"

"Prepare for multi-vector assault mode! Decloak on my command!"

"No! Sir, the ship's escorted by a Klingon fleet! We detect three Negh'Var class battleships with structural modifications, six Vor'cha class attack cruisers with structural modifications, and 36 birds-of-prey with WANK upgrades! If we decloak now--"

Col Rodgers drew his ninja sword and beheaded the tactical officer. "How dare you disrespect my authority?!" He pushed the corpse out of the tactical officer's seat and sat down. "Blue alert! Prepare for multi-vector assault mode!"

"Sir, we're being hailed-- it's the Klingons," the communications officer reported.

"Fuck 'em!"

"But the fact that the Klingons are hailing us means they detected us!"

"Three, two, one, zero," the Visionrazor's computer counted down before the ship decloaked and separated into three sections to attack the USS Enterprise Senior-- Spock's Constitution 2 class heavy cruiser-- from three directions.

Then Qo'noS One launched a torpedo with an enhanced radiation warhead-- a neutron bomb-- to scramble the Visionrazor's flight control systems. "No fair!" Col Rodgers cursed as the out-of-control sections crashed into each other, scattering ablative armor plates like pepper from a shaker.

B. A. stood in the command ship's bridge, eyes burning with rage at the hammer and sickle adorning the Visionrazor. "Qo'noS One to commie ships! Surrender or I'll kick your ass so hard, your intestines will pop out of your mouths!"

"CSS Visionrazor to Qo'noS One! You're at a tactical disadvantage! Your ships are technologically inferior to mine! Surrender and deliver the traitor Spock to our custody, or I'll cut a new hole in your ass!" Col Rodgers fired three torpedoes in front of Qo'noS One to intimidate the Klingons, but the command ship's Hedgehog mini-torpedo volley systems intercepted the incoming torpedoes. "No fair!"

"You asked for it!" B. A. changed the channel to communicate with his fleet. "Qo'noS One to all ships! Target the commie ships and kick ass!"

The Klingon ships shot at the sections with quantum and photon torpedoes, heavy and medium disruptor cannons, and disruptor emitters. The impacts transformed Col Rodgers into a pinball, bouncing him between the ceiling, walls, and floor. Snap! "Fuck me," he whispered as his neck broke upon the helmsman's back, slamming the helmsman against the console and engaging the warp drive. Col Rodgers and the crewmembers in the saucer section were lucky-- the Visionrazor's upper and lower stardrive sections became metal coffins for their crewmembers.

Commodore Montgomery Scott watched a dead Redshirt drift in front of the Enterprise Senior's bridge. "That B. A., he's more ruthless than any Klingon I know," he commented.

"Fortunately, the Chancellor's ruthlessness serves our goals." Spock turned to a replicator. "Tortilla chips, nacho cheese and jalapeno pepper slices covered, hot."

"Would ye mind getting me a bottle of scotch? I don't think I can handle this sober." Scotty caught the bottle Spock threw towards him. "Thanks."


Gen Davies frowned at the man in the iron lung, crippled by a broken neck. "Daniel Rodgers: Redshirt. A man barely alive."

"Gentlemen, we can rebuild him," Adm Braga boasted, smiling. "We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world's first cybernetic person. Daniel Rodgers will be that person. Better than he was before. Better... stronger... faster."

"Actually, cybernetic technology has been used for prosthetics since the late 20th century-- there are billions of 'cybernetic men' in existence now," a medical officer stated.

Adm Braga drew a phaser pistol, set it to KILL, and shot the medical officer. "Don't correct me." He holstered the pistol and turned to Gen Davies. "You have some cybernetics programs going on to create 'super marines,' right?"

"The Federation Marine Corps had 'super marine' programs going on for centuries, but the Federation Council kept cutting their budgets and saying they're 'too militaristic,' 'against the ideals of the Federation,' or some other bullshit-- these programs are still going nowhere."

"Shit." Adm Braga looked around the sickbay, as if he was lost. "Maybe we can technobabble babble artificial spinal cord technobabble to increase his reaction time--"

'You mean decrease his reaction time,' Gen Davies didn't say.

"Technobabble babble prosthetic arm technobabble to increase his strength, technobabble babble prosthetic legs technobabble to increase his speed, technobabble babble to create a super marine!" Adm Braga turned to a computer console. "Computer, search for information on 'The Six Million Dollar Man'."

"Dollar Man?"

"A dollar was a monetary unit used by several nation-states prior to the establishment of the New World Economy."

"How the fuck is a 'Monetary Unit Man' going to help us?!" Gen Davies demanded.

"One result found: television series, produced from 1973 to 1978 CE, based on the novel 'Cyborg' by Martin Caidin," the computer reported.

"Yes!" Adm Braga stared at the monitor as he answered, "I'm studying this television series for info on how to transform Colonel Rodgers into a Super Redshirt, a better Redshirt than he was before. Better... stronger... faster."

"Fine, do what you got to do," Gen Davies deadpanned. "Just don't make the star of our propaganda films uglier than he already is."


Three hours later...

"I am Dan-Dan the Ninja Man!" Col Rodgers jumped through the hole he cut in the wall. "Feel the power of my phased energy rectification saber!" The integral weapon in his prosthetic right arm-- a device projecting a red energy beam to a fixed length to serve as a blade-- slashed at the FUCKUP marines guarding the sickbay of the CSS Bangkok, Adm Braga's Intrepid 2 class explorer.

"Ahhhh!" a marine screamed as the blade disintegrated the tissue around the cut.

Gen Davies, a self-described "man of action," wanted to charge out of his "cover" under the operating table, but Adm Braga laid on top of him. "Get the fuck off my back!"

"Hush! He can hear us!" the amateur cyberneticist warned.

"I am a fusion of human physiology and Starfleet technology, the next stage of evolution! Look on my power, ye mighty, and despair!" Col Rodgers boasted.

Slash! "Ahhhh!" "No, stay back!" Slash! "Ahhhh!" "Eric, noooo! You bastard!" Beam!

"Ow! You shot me!" Beam! "You shot me again! No fair!"

Beam! "Die already!" Beam!

"Stop shooting me!" Slash!


Adm Braga and Gen Davies crawled to the hole in the wall, watching Col Rodgers pull down a dead marine's pants. "What the fuck is wrong with him?!" Gen Davies hissed.

Adm Braga watched Col Rodgers sodomize the corpse as it disintegrated-- then the cyborg's penis hammered the floor until it poked a hole in the carpet. "An error was apparently committed during the operation to replace Colonel Rodgers' spinal cord."

"What kind of error?" Gen Davies noticed something on Col Rodgers's buttocks. "You plugged up his asshole?! No wonder he's pissed!" The cyborg's head turned to the sound of his voice. "Fuck me!"

"Admiral Braga to the bridge. Lock on--"

Gen Davies watched Col Rodgers jump upright and charge towards them. "Beam us to the bridge, right the fuck now!" The corridor faded out of sight to be replaced by the Bangkok's bridge. "Lock on that cybernetic freak and beam him out of here!" Gen Davies ordered.

"This is my ship! You don't give orders aboard my ship!" Adm Braga protested.

"Sir, Colonel Rodgers has entered Jefferies Tube Zero-Five and is approaching the bridge at a velocity of 90 kilometers per hour, ETA," estimated time of arrival, "four minutes!" the security chief warned.

"Shit! Beam him out of here!" Adm Braga ordered.


"Colonel Rodgers!"

"To where?"

"Into space!"

"But that will violate Colonel Rodger's constitutional rights!"

Adm Braga shot and killed the security chief. "Don't question my orders!" He ran to the security console, locked on the cyborg, and beamed Col Rodgers into space. "Good riddance." He turned to see surprise on the bridge crewmembers' faces. "You saw that cyborg sodomize a dead marine. I'm not gay-- I don't want to be anally penetrated."

Unfortunately for Adm Braga, space wasn't empty. The Bangkok was in drydock, attended by Work Bee utility crafts. "What the fuck?" a Work Bee pilot exclaimed as the cyborg appeared in front of him.

Col Rodgers' saber cut a hole in the Work Bee windshield. He entered the cockpit and turned over the pilot.

"Ahhhh!" the pilot screamed as the cyborg sodomized him, pushing him against the flight controls. The Work Bee flew circles around the Bangkok before crashing into warp nacelle, destroying it, the Work Bee, and the people in the cockpit.

The resulting explosion transformed the Bangkok into a pinball, bouncing between the drydock sides. "Shit!" Adm Braga's arms and legs encircled the console as if it was a blowup doll. Fortunately for him, Intrepid 2s mounted warp nacelles on fixed pylons instead of the prototype's variable-geometry pylons, making the propulsion systems more stable-- the chief engineer was able to eject the warp core before it exploded.

Unfortunately, the drydock was completely demolished by the time the Bangkok stopped bouncing. "Shit." "Fuck." "Admiral Berman's not going to like this," Adm Braga and Gen Davies commented. "Let's just blame this on capitalist terrorists." "Good idea." Adm Braga shot and killed the bridge crew to eliminate witnesses as Gen Davies destroyed the computer's bio-neural gel packs to eliminate evidence.


Col Robert Scott Anderson smiled as the CSS Darkstar, his tactical cruiser, sailed towards Federation space. An ensign in Starfleet-- he was judged "unfit for starship duty" and stationed at the Starfleet Veterans' Retirement Home, where he wouldn't cause too much damage-- Anderson was promoted to the grade of field officer after his transfer to the FUCKUP Marine Corp, and made Redshirt Commander. "I'll show that traitor Spock! I'll flay him alive for making me give his senile ass a sponge bath!" he swore, not noticing he was talking aloud, or the disgust on the bridge crewmembers' faces. "I'll shove a phaser up his ass and disintegrate his guts!" he swore, caressing the phaser at his hip, a substitute for his penis. I'll--" Col Anderson accidentally pressed the firing button, setting his chair-- and his pants-- on fire. "Ah! Shit! Ah! Fuck!" He ran around the bridge like a headless chicken.

"Calm down, Sir!" "Don't panic!" the bridge crew advised. "Remember, you're supposed to stop, drop, and, uh, and--" "Stop, drop, and roll is a fire safety technique used to extinguish a fire on a person's hair or clothes. 'Stop' means the fire victim must stop and be still, ceasing any movement which may fan the flames or hamper those attempting to extinguish the fire," the helmsman explained as Col Anderson ran into a wall, knocking himself unconscious. 'Drop' means the fire victim must drop to the ground, lying down if possible. 'Roll' means the fire victim must roll on the ground to extinguish the fire by depriving it of oxygen," the helmsman finished as the fire-suppression system extinguished the flames on Col Anderson's pants.

Boom! "Ah!" Col Anderson regained consciousness. "What the fuck was that?!"

"I think that was an antimatter mine," the tactical officer answered.

"The traitors put a mine here?"

The tactical officer scanned the space in front of the ship. "I'm detecting ten mines, correction, 20, correction, 15, correction, 30-- the sensors are going haywire. I suspect the traitors deployed an entire minefield, using mines with stealth technology."

"No fair!"

"Sir, should we abort the mission?" the tactical officer asked. 'I don't want to die a virgin!'

"Hey, maybe we can technobabble babble the navigational deflector, technobabble babble emit a graviton beam to clear the minefield with one shot!" the science officer suggested.

"Make it so!" Col Anderson sat in his chair, forgetting the fire was extinguished less than a minute ago. "Ow! Hot! Ow!" He jumped out of the chair and fanned his buttocks to cool them, making it look like he was spanking himself.

The science officer and the chief engineer needed one hour to modify the navigational deflector to emit a graviton beam. Unfortunately, the Starfleet vessels that laid the minefield needed only 15 minutes to reach the Darkstar's position.

"Sir, I'm detecting two Galaxy class starships with WANK upgrades, bearing..."

"Sir, we're being hailed-- it's the antiques," the communications officer reported.

"Are you shitting me?! The cloaking device conceals us from their sensors! The antiques can't hail us if they don't know we're here, and they can't know we're here!" Col Anderson claimed.

"Well, our cloaking device was reverse-engineered from the one James T. Kirk 'salvaged' from a Romulan battlecruiser a century ago-- countermeasures were developed as time passed," the tactical officer noted.

"Shit! Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me?"

"The SHIT assessment describes these countermeasures. Didn't you read it?" The tactical officer raised his PADD, the screen displaying the title "Strategic Headquarters for the Improvement of Technology."

"How can I read that when I cannot understand 60 percent of the words in it?! I mean, 'flanking maneuvers.' What the fuck does a flank have to do with unconventional warfare?! We're Special Forces, not cooks-- we don't need to know what cut of meat is the flank!"

"Sir, a flanking maneuver is..."


"USS Miyamoto Musashi to unidentified ship. This is your final warning. Decloak, lower your shields, and surrender or die." Capt Trigga'Happi turned to the tactical officer. "Aim phasers and torpedoes. Fire." The Galaxy WANK class assault ships fired 18 torpedoes in the Darkstar's direction. Only three torpedoes hit, but they were able to disable the cloaking device. "Repeat." This time, all torpedoes hit the tactical cruiser, peeling off the ablative armor as if the Darkstar was a metal banana.


"Blue alert! Prepare for multi-vector assault mode!" Col Anderson turned to the science officer. "Accelerate work on the navigational deflector! Once it's ready, we'll fire the graviton beam and blow those antiques into their own minefield, destroying them all!"


Trigga'Happi watched the tactical cruiser separate into three sections to attack the Musashi from three directions, only to crash into other mines. "Big mistake, new human." The third and fourth volleys destroyed the Darkstar's upper and lower stardrive sections. The saucer section's navigational deflector emitted a graviton beam at the Musashi, but the modifications weren't complete-- Col Anderson ended up pushing his ship back into FUCKUP space.

"Sir, should we pursue?" the helmswoman asked.

"Negative, it could be a trap." Trigga'Happi turned to the tactical officer. "Replace the expended mines and log the new mines' positions. To blunder into our own minefield is to die without honor."


Stilgar, holding a PADD, entered Gen Davies' office. "General-- argh! My eyes!" The Son'a covered his face-- the PADD clattered on the floor-- at the sight of two FUCKUP marines and wearing black leather chaps over bare skin.

Col Anderson wore a dog collar, his wrists chained to his ankles. "Ah, Sir! Oh yes! Punish me! Ah! Ow! Fuck my ass! Ow! Ah!" he cried as Gen Davies' riding crop lashed his back.

Gen Davies continued sodomizing Col Anderson. "May I help you, Ahdar?"

"Ah! Ow! Oh yes! Pump your cum into my filthy hole! Ah!"

"Damn it, is that how Federation officers earn promotion points?!" the Son'a exclaimed.

"No, this is a special screening process for the elite Redshirts, which tests their strength and endurance," Gen Davies deadpanned as he sodomized the bitch.

"You screen elite Redshirts for the strength of their anal sphincter?!"

"Yes-- I mean, I screen Redshirts for the strength of their will. Colonel Anderson is going through a refresher course for SERE-- survival, evasion, resistance, and escape-- training that prepared the legendary Green Berets for the risks they face behind enemy lines, such as capture and torture."

"Ah! I'm coming! I'm coming! Ahhhh!" Col Anderson fell unconscious.

Gen Davies used a wet wipe to clean Col Anderson's shit off his penis-- the bitch was still bent over, the riding crop inserted in his anus. "You got something to tell me?"

'You're a cum-sucking faggot. If you were a Son'a officer, I'd have you executed-- flayed alive, your arms and legs staked to the ground, your body offered to vultures.' Stilgar stopped covering his face to pick up the PADD. "Agent X-ray reported that Spock is assembling an invasion fleet at Klach D'Kel Brakt. If we launch a preemptive strike and destroy that fleet, we'll cripple the traitor Starfleet."

"Excellent. I'll contact Admirals Braga and Brin so we can plan the operation-- Operation Perceived Brilliance. Yes, that's a good name for a decisive blow against the capitalist traitors." Gen Davies unchained Col Anderson and pulled the riding crop out of the bitch's ass.


"Wake up, Colonel Anderson! We got a big, bloody, destructive, and decisive battle to fight!"

The Redshirt commander saluted. "Yes, Sir!"

Stilgar frowned at the FUCKUP marines. 'I'd dismember that bitch and shove his arms and legs in your anus, his humerus and femur cut diagonally to form sharp edges that would tear apart your intestines...'

Fortunately for Stilgar's sanity, the marines changed into their dress uniforms before leaving. "Pres Roddenberry" and Adm Brin were already in the conference room. "Where's Admiral Braga?" the Son'a asked.

"Brannon's in the SHIT lab, performing research on artificial evolution to create a super Redshirt," the disguised Adm Berman answered.

"Fuck me," Gen Davies hissed.

"What was that?"


"Anyways, regarding your plan. Why does it have to be called Operation Perceived Brilliance?" the President asked.

"By crippling the traitor Starfleet, we force the traitor Spock and those who share his guilt to perceive and acknowledge the brilliance of our advanced tactics," Gen Davies answered.

"Perceived Brilliance sounds too elitist. We don't the proletariat to mistake us for the bourgeoisie. How about a more austere name?"

"Why don't we call it Operation Restoration of the People's Democratic Federation?" Adm Brin suggested.

"What is this bullshit?! I can't spell half the words in that name!" Gen Davies stated.

"Restoration is spelled R-E-S-T..."

'We were too ambitious for our own good-- we should've delivered these idiots to Spock in exchange for diplomatic economic concessions, instead of accommodating these idiots, hoping to take over the entire Federation and install them as puppet leaders,' the Son'a regretfully thought.


Adm Braga meditated in an artificial womb, the walls bombarding him with technobabble radiation to induce genetic mutations. 'It's working! I'm evolving into a higher being! My mind is evolving-- I can see into Lieutenant Janeway's mind, see her wildest sexual fantasies, her desire to be spanked and then sodomized by a father figure! I now have the mental power of extrasensory perception! My body's transforming into...!'

Technicians monitored Adm Braga's condition. "If we need super Redshirts, why don't we just genetically enhance Redshirts to improve their strength, speed, and endurance?"

"Genetic engineering is illegal except to cure life-threatening--"

"To hell with that regulation! Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges: in times of war, the laws fall silent. The traitor Marine Corps has a 20 to one numerical superiority over us, and we must counter that if--" Three EFMJ bullets hit the first technician's head, killing him.

"Gasp!" The second technician reached for his phaser, but he was too slow-- the assassin's sound-suppressed MP30 submachine gun fired a burst of 7 x 30 mm rounds into his head before he turned around.

Lieutenant Lucy Janeway's left hand manipulated the womb controls, setting the radiation level above safe limits. "This is for slapping my butt every time I came to the office, you pervert." She exited the laboratory.

In the womb, Adm Braga became unbearably hot. 'What's happening? Am I becoming non-corporeal? I can feel my cock expanding, becoming erect. No, it's becoming vapor. No! I need--' "Shrieeeek!" He exited the artificial vagina, not as a higher being, but as...


"The operation will be named Operation Perceived Brilliance to inspire hope in our citizens, who entrusted us to lead them in working towards a better future," the President declared.

'Dumbass.' "Now that the operation has a name, let's plan it," Gen Davies suggested. "I propose--" He turned to an air vent as the scent of seminal fluids filled the conference room. "Is someone fucking in the air ducts again?" Boom! "Ahhhh!"

Col Anderson drew his pistol, aiming at the white blob that poured out of the vent and enveloped Gen Davies. "I cannot get a clear shot!" Disruptor beams hit the blob and the man trapped inside it. "Stop it! You're hitting the General!"

"Shrieeeek!" The mutated Adm Braga recoiled from Stilgar's shots-- inside him, Gen Davies clawed at the floor, trying to pull himself out of the blob. 'Stop! It's me, Brannon! Don't you recognize me?!'

Adm Brin's arms encircled Stilgar's shoulders. "Stop it! That thing is exhibiting signs of sentience! By shooting it, you're violating its constitutional rights!" The Son'a drew a knife and stabbed him. "Ahhhh!" Adm Brin fell on the floor, staring in shock at the blade embedded in his left thigh.

Stilgar continued shooting at the blob. "Die, you cum-sucking faggot! Die!" Its physiology inhibited the chain reaction allowing phasers and disruptors to disintegrate a man with one shot, but the blob couldn't defend itself from the rain of fire.

"Ahdar Stilgar, I must protest against your use of homophobic terminology," the President declared. "Not that I'd perform oral sex on another man, but I respect the right of male homosexuals to--" The blob and its prisoner exploded, covering the President with seminal fluids. "Argh! Yuck, I'm covered in cum! Disgusting!" He approached the door. "I'm taking a shower and washing this shit off me."

"But what about the General!" Col Anderson tearfully protested.

The President noticed bone fragments-- pieces of Gen Davies' skull-- stuck to his coat. "Fine, I'm promoting you to general and naming you Marine Corps Chief of Staff." He exited the room. "Yuck!"

Now Gen Anderson smiled despite the tears flowing down his cheeks, a bitch thanking his master for a good lashing. "Awesome!"

"What about me?! I'm fucking bleeding to death here!" Adm Brin shouted.


The FUCKUP fleet sailed out of a secret base in the Briar Patch-- alias the Klach D'Kel Brakt Sector, named for a Klingon-held planet across the border-- to attack the Starfleet-KDF task force assembling in orbit above the planet. Subahdar Gothmog commanded this fleet from the Mercer, his battlecruiser. "This is too easy." He smiled at the absence of KDF patrols in the fleet's path.

"I advise caution-- the Klingons may have ordered their border patrol forces away from this region, presenting the illusion of weakness to lure us into a trap," the XO warned.

"You're too paranoid! Klingons are not that smart!" Gothmog claimed.

"Sir, we're within weapons range of Klach D'Kel Brakt," the helmsman reported.

"Sir, I detect 300 orbital stations armed with disruptors and photon torpedo launchers, but no ships longer than 27 meters," the tactical officer added. "I detect 400 warp signatures, suggesting an equal number of ships recently left this region."

'If there were 400 ships here, where did they go?' Gothmog shrugged. "Then shoot the orbital stations until they fall into the planet's atmosphere, raining death and destruction on Klach D'Kel Brakt. That should fulfill the mission objectives."

"Yes, Sir." The tactical officer locked on an orbital defense station-- then an alarm howled. "Sir, I detect 150 ships exiting warp at our 12 o'clock position! Correction, 270, correction, 400 ships! Sir, the orbital stations' weapons are powering up!"

"No fair!"

"The humans have a saying, 'All's fair in love and war.' We are at war, Sir," the XO noted.

The orbital defense stations and the incoming Starfleet-KDF ships fired hundreds of torpedoes, set to detonate near the FUCKUP ships to disable their cloaking devices-- then fighters were launched to attack the FUCKUP ships' flanks. "I love it when a plan comes together." Kahless Smith smiled at the chaos consuming the FUCKUP fleet as Son'a battlecruisers and Intrepid 2s maneuvered, crashing into each other as they tried to counter attacks from all directions.


"Yeeha!" Starbuck's F-7S Viper led an alpha strike against the rebuilt Darkstar, the fighters' micro PENIS cannons and belly-mounted Warthog torpedo volley systems hammering the tactical cruiser.

"Blue alert! Prepare for multi-vector assault mode!" Gen Anderson ordered.

"Sir, we cannot perform a multi-vector assault because the ship's computer wasn't fully repaired due to a Candida albicans," a fungus that caused jock itch, "outbreak that destroyed 98.1 percent of Starfleet's supply of bio-neural gel packs," the helmsman stated.

"Shit! Launch fighters!"

"You mean, launch torpedoes at fighters?" the tactical officer asked, confused.

"No, launch our own fighters to intercept the traitor fighters!"

"Sir, Starfleet doesn't have fighters-- the Federation Council cancelled the design and production of such militaristic vessels due to the image of fighter pilots as being arrogant and individualistic, in opposition to the Federation ideals of pacifism and conformism. Only the traitor Starfleet has fighters, an estimated 400 to 600 ex-Gonghe Navy spacecraft they bought to equip their Akira WANK class heavy cruisers."

"The Ultimate Darkstar's weapons are," useless, "overkill against swarming attacks like this! We need small, highly maneuverable vessels to counter them!" Gen Anderson snapped his fingers. "I know! Launch the Peregrines!"

"The Peregrine class courier ships?"

"Launch them and the shuttles! We'll crush the traitor Starfleet insects like... insects!"

"Actually, the attacking fighters bear Klingon insignia," the tactical officer noted.

"Shut up and launch them!"

The Peregrine was the most maneuverable Starfleet vessel to serve in the Dominion War-- armed with three phaser cannons and one torpedo launcher for self-defense, they were often used as fighters, even though they weren't designed for this purpose. Against a Viper's superior speed and maneuverability, a Peregrine was no better than a target drone.

Starbuck launched two mini-torpedoes, destroying a Peregrine and its wingman. "Splash two fighters!" An alarm warned him an enemy fighter was maneuvering behind him. Starbuck performed a Picard Maneuver, exiting warp at a Peregrine's eight o'clock position, and blasted it to pieces. "Splash three!"

Gen Anderson watched a Viper dive towards the Ultimate Darkstar. "No fair!" he cried as the Viper launched a quantum torpedo at the bridge, killing him.

"Splash one battlecruiser-- that's one more than you, Starbuck!" the Viper pilot radioed.

"Not for long, Apollo!" Starbuck countered. After the Vipers destroyed the orphaned courier ships and shuttles, he led the squadron towards a Son'a battlecruiser.


The Mercer's port wing cut into the Bangkok's saucer, killing the Intrepid 2's bridge crew as the Son'a battlecruiser turned towards the Starfleet-KDF fleet. "Lock on the Qo'noS One! Fire the isolytic burst cannon!" Gothmog ordered.

"That's inadvisable. At this range, we risk being caught in the rift," the XO warned.

"Shut up!" Gothmog drew his pistol-- the XO, correctly guessing his intentions, dived into an escape pod to avoid being shot. "Coward." Gothmog's pistol targeted the tactical officer. "Fire the isolytic burst cannon at Qo'noS One, or I'll have you executed."

An alarm warned Starbuck of the weapon powering up. "Don't let them fire the subspace weapon! Hit them hard, hit them with everything we have!" The Starfleet-KDF ships ignored the ex-Starfleet vessels in the FUCKUP fleet, concentrating fire on the Son'a battlecruisers.

"Sir, the isolytic burst cannon is overloading! I cannot vent the excess power! It's going to explode!" the tactical officer warned.

"Abandon ship!" Gothmog ran towards the captain's personal escape pod, crashed into the entry hatch, and broke his nose. "Ow!" The subahdar remembered the XO used that pod to save himself. "Fuck me!" he cursed as the isolytic burst cannon exploded, opening a rift in space-time that consumed the Mercer.

Warp and impulse systems strained against the rift's pull. Then the rift closed-- ships on both sides crashed into each other and the orbital defense stations, causing horrendous casualties.

"Ahhhh!" The Mercer's XO braced his arms and legs as the closing rift launched the captain's escape pod was towards God knows where. Then the pod stopped moving. "I'm alive?" Disruptor beams cut into the hatch, opening it to reveal a platoon of angry Klingons aiming weapons at the pod. The Son'a raised his hands. "I surrender," he said, proving he was the smartest man to serve in the entire FUCKUP fleet.


The Mercer's XO "sang like a bird," telling the A-Team the secret base's location. The Starfleet-KDF fleet separated into two battle groups. B. A. commanded Battle Group One, which attacked the FUCKUP starbase. "You commies better get smart and surrender, or I'll kick your ass so hard, you'll chock on your own livers!" he hailed the base commander.

"Bandit, one, Son'a battlecruiser," the tactical officer reported its heading. "Sir, they're hailing us."

"Onscreen." B. A. frowned at Stilgar. "You Son'a guns better run-- I ain't giving up until the last commie is either in prison or in a coffin." The words "WARNING: SOONG NETWORK SECURITY HAS DETECTED AND BLOCKED AN INTRUSION ATTEMPT," appeared onscreen. "What is this jibba jabba?"

"The Son'a are trying to hack into the ship's computer," the tactical officer answered.

"They're trying to hack us? Then get your bat'leth and hack back!"

"Say again?"

"Get some warriors over there and kick that hacking Son'a guns' ass!" B. A. ordered.


Obeying Baracus' orders, Dakuan piloted the Yan-Isleth shuttle towards Stilgar's ship. The warriors frowned as "the Crazy" sang Klingon opera. One of them thought, 'How dare this half-human freak sing of our forefathers' battles?' as he crept towards the cockpit, planning to cut Dakuan's throat once they were aboard the Son'a battlecruiser.

"Ahhhh! The pink bunnies are all over me! Ahhhh!" Dakuan screamed, the shuttle rolling and looping as his hands and feet hammered the controls, trying to beat off the hallucinations.

The warrior froze, watching a pink bunny appear behind "the Crazy"-- then the bunny jumped up and bit off his head. "Ahhhh!" the Klingons screamed as his blood painted the shuttle interior. Dakuan's telepathy was linked to his psychokinesis-- the pink bunnies could inflict real injuries on those who saw them. The warriors were too terrified of the bunnies to notice the Son'a were shooting at them, but Dakuan's panicked maneuvers allowed the shuttle to remain unscathed as it flew into the hangar of Stilgar's ship.

Son'a warriors quickly surrounded the shuttle, set their disruptor rifles to KILL, and targeted the door, but they weren't desperate men-- they weren't prepared as the Yan-Isleth platoon burst through the door, the Klingons fleeing in terror from the bunnies and killing everyone in their way until they reached the bridge.

Stilgar turned to see the Yan-Isleth platoon burst through a wall, screaming in terror. "What?!" He didn't have time to draw his pistol before the Klingons trampled him to death, finally out of Dakuan's sphere of influence.

Without the Son'a battlecruiser's protection, Battle Group One quickly captured the FUCKUP starbase.


Cdre Global War On Terror Rice IX commanded Battle Group Two, which laid siege to Ba'ku, the FUCKUP capital. The surviving Redshirts, angry at being used as gimps, mutinied and surrendered the disguised Adm Berman to Cdre Rice as a peace offering. During his court martial, "President Roddenberry" ranted about Spock's betrayal of "his" vision. A counselor testified that Adm Berman suffered dissociative identity disorder. The judge ruled the FUCKUP leader not guilty by reason of insanity, and sentenced him to a psychiatric hospital, where Adm Berman would spend the rest of his life.

Spock successfully carried out the economic reforms, restoring a market economy and encouraging investment in now privatized industries. Federation citizens, initially suspicious of capitalism, accepted the reforms as their per capita income skyrocketed. Spock publicly said, "To be rich is glorious," quoting 20th century reformer Deng Xiaoping to encourage citizens to work harder, making the Federation stronger as they made themselves wealthier.

The surviving new humans, however, refused to give up their cause. Adm Brin led these die-hards on raids against isolated colonies, capturing supplies to sustain their war efforts. In reaction, Starfleet and the KDF adopted Gonghe military doctrines-- minefields were deployed, orbital defense stations were built, marines and warriors were garrisoned to defend these colonies.

As the raids became counterproductive due to heavy casualties inflicted on the new human raiding parties, Adm Brin decided to simply conquer and occupy a colony, building it up to be the new humans' new base of operations. 'The traitor Spock's will be punished for corrupting the Federation with capitalist greed,' he swore as the CSS Bellerophon, one of two surviving FUCKUP vessels, sailed through a sparsely populated sector in Federation space.


Brigadier Zaia watched women warriors teach firearms safety and rifle marksmanship to citizens of Australis, a Federation colony near the Zeon border. "How many do we have left?"

"3,209,021 MP30s, 4,290,017 GLOCK 44s, and 2,056,108 GLOCK 50s left to sell," Lieutenant Junior Grade Jezebel answered.

"Sigh." Zaia agreed to buy a large number of weapons from GLOCK in exchange for an escaped sex offender who was captured by the Gonghe military. The Duchess of Zeon was originally thrilled to learn of the mission's success-- then she realized if every woman in the Principality received four pistols and two submachine guns, millions of weapons would still gather dust in the armories, a huge waste of money. Then the new human terrorists began attacking those perceived as "bourgeoisie"-- Zaia was sent on a "diplomatic mission" to sell the excess guns to terrified Federation citizens. It wasn't easy-- few Federation citizens had money before Spock's reforms were carried out, so Zaia had to barter goods for the guns and then sail to Klingon space to sell those goods.

"Cheer up! We are making a profit," Jezebel noted.

"For how long? It's only a matter of time before Starfleet, the Klingons, or some mercenary who masturbates whenever she uses weapons of mass destruction, finally captures Admiral Brin and his phallic compensators." Zaia's combadge beeped. "Zaia."

"Mistress, I detect one Prometheus class battlecruiser, one Intrepid 2 class assault cruiser exiting warp-- it's the new human raiders!" Sakura Sulu, the ZSS Burdizzo's tactical officer, reported.

"Jezebel, get our women and the Australians to the bomb shelter! I'm returning to the ship!"

"Yes, Mistress!" Jezebel sprinted to the firing range.

"Emergency beam up!" Zaia's lover faded out of sight to be replaced by the Burdizzo's transporter operator. "Battle stations!" Zaia sprinted into the bridge. "Enemy status!"

"Mistress, the tactical cruiser is approaching our position-- they're engaging the multi-vector assault mode," Sakura reported. "Mistress, I believe their objective is the shipyard," where the Burdizzo was docked.

"Mistress, they're hailing us," the helmswoman reported.


The FUCKUP captain wolf whistled. "Hey, Baby! What's a pretty girl like you doing in this part of the galaxy?"

'About to castrate you and sodomize you with your own severed penis.' "I just wanna have fun." Zaia giggled like a bimbo, playing with her hair to signal, 'Lock on the bridge. Fire DIKEs and torpedoes on my command.' "What are you doing here?"

"We're gonna takeover this planet. Why don't you beam over and be my woman? That's better than getting drafted to work in the factories or thrown at the traitor Marine Corps as cannon fodder."

"Hee hee! Sure! Lower your shields so I can beam over!"

"Mistress, the tactical cruiser is lowering shields," Sakura reported.

Zaia signaled, 'Fire.' "Shields!" she ordered as the rebuilt Visionrazor's saucer exploded, throwing ablative armor plates at the Burdizzo. "Hang up." The helmswoman ended communications with the CSS Visionrazor Junior. "Get us out of here, full impulse."

"Mistress, the tactical cruiser's remaining sections are pursuing us," Sakura warned.

"Execute evasive maneuver Dixie Chick Four on my command." Zaia braced herself as the Burdizzo shook from the Visionrazor Junior's shots. "Execute!" The assault cruiser suddenly decelerated and "somersaulted" to aim its forward-firing weapons at the pursuing sections. "Fire!"


In the bomb shelter, Jezebel and the women warriors rolled up magazines, stacking them in the corridor to provide cover for the machine gun crews-- they didn't have time to fill sandbags for this purpose.

"Now that you've taken away our porno mags, would you mind going topless so we have something nice to look at?" a man suggested.

Jezebel drew her Mauser C96A9 pistol and targeted the man's groin. "No."

The man raised his hands to surrender. "Okay, no problem. Uh, I got to use the loo," toilet. "Bye."

A mask lowered from Jezebel's crown to protect her face as the blast door glowed-- the new humans were using phasers to cut though the metal. "Here they come." The women warriors took cover and set their weapons from SAFE to FIRE.


Outside the shelter, Adm Brin was pissed. The FUCKUP marines carelessly used their phasers on the blast door, which reflected heat like a frying pan-- the stench of burning flesh filled the air. "Don't be so damn trigger-happy! You're cooking yourselves!" The surviving marines sizzled in reply. "Brin to Bellerophon, lock on the marines and beam them to sickbay." He waited for the metal to cool before ordering the Bellerophon's disembarked crewmembers to try.

The new humans scanned the door, discussed their readings, proposed modifying a tricorder to deactivate the locks, modified the tricorder to emit technobabble, screamed when the modified tricorder exploded, evacuated the wounded, returned to scan the door again, realized the locks were mechanical and unaffected by technobabble, proposed modifying another tricorder to emit technobabble-babble, modified another tricorder, and screamed again when the other tricorder exploded. "Fuck it! I'm going back to the ship and replicating a ton of ultritium to blow down this piece of shit!" Ensign Andrew Joshua Talon declared.

"No, the use of chemical explosives is--"

Ens Talon angrily turned to Adm Brin. "Do you wanna get in there?!"

"Yes, but not at the expense of our--"

Ens Talon drew his phaser and targeted Adm Brin's head. "If that sentence ends with, 'ideals,' I'm gonna kill you."

"Ensign Talon, how dare you display such militaristic behavior?! You're betraying the ideals--"

Ens Talon shot and killed Adm Brin. "Now I'm leader of the new humans, and I say we replicate a ton of ultritium, blow down the blast door to get in that bomb shelter, kill all the men and rape the women. Anyone else wanna bullshit about our ideals?" The other new humans were too scared to object. "Good." Ens Talon stomped towards the grounded Bellerophon.


An explosion filled the corridor with smoke. 'What kept them?' Jezebel and the women warriors aimed L7A2 machine guns, L1A1 rifles, and MP30s at waist level. "Hold... hold..." Ens Talon stepped out of the smoke, leading new humans towards the machine gun nest. "Fire!"

Ens Talon felt a full metal jacket bullet tear off his scrotum. "Ahhhh!" He fell on his back, dodging the bullets flying overhead to disembowel and dismember the new humans behind him. Survivors of the first volley laid on the floor, using the severed legs of their comrades as cover, and returned fire.

"Ah!" Jezebel cried as a near miss scorched her black leather gloves. "Die already!" She threw a grenade to kill the new human marksman.

"Women are defending the bomb shelter! Come on, let's charge in there and rape them!" someone shouted.

Australian men were pissed at this insult to their masculinity, while the women were pissed at this threat. "Let's get 'em!" They leaned into the corridor to fire 7 x 30 mm, 10.9 x 32.8 mm R, and 12.7 x 32.6 mm rounds at the new humans.

An APEX bullet exploded in front of the machine gun nest-- shrapnel scratched Jezebel's mask. The woman warrior looked back at the Australian man who fired the round. "Watch where you're pointing that thing! You're not in the Gonghe Army-- you don't have a tactical suit protecting you from your own explosive bullets!" An APEX bullet hit the corridor wall, exploded instead of ricocheting, and killed the man who fired the round. 'It's a miracle the human race survived when men kept killing themselves with their own stupidity,' she thought, turning to shoot another new human.

"Run away! Run away!" The surviving new humans ran out of the shelter-- another explosion threw them back in.

"Damn! The new humans have artillery!" Then Jezebel heard the words "Strength in honor! Honor in victory!" echo in the corridor. "What in hell?!"

"Is that the giant robot that destroyed the Borg ship over Risa?" someone asked.


The woman warrior traded her C96A9 for a L1A1, using the rifle-mounted tricorder to scan the corridor. "Zaia!"

The brigadier led a platoon into the shelter, the women warriors stepping around corpses, severed legs, and spilled guts.

"Bitch!" Ens Talon was disabling the safety mechanisms so his phaser could overload, becoming an improvised grenade.

Zaia fired a 7.63 x 25 mm round at Ens Talon's head, executing him. "Thank Cybele you're alive!" She holstered her C96A9 and embraced her lover.

"What happened out there?" Jezebel asked.

"We destroyed the tactical cruiser, but overloaded our capacitors during the battle. While we were repairing the ship, the robot Jean-Luc Picard appeared and destroyed the Intrepid 2. I feared for your safety-- the robot cut through tritanium like it was lunchmeat!"

"Is it...?"

"The robot disappeared after it gave a speech. The Goddess knows where it went."

"I pray it's not in Zeon space." Jezebel shivered at the damage the robot could cause.

The Burdizzo's mission was extended as the women warriors searched for clues on the giant robot, but none were found. Fortunately for Zaia, reports of the new humans' attempt to conquer Australis sustained demand for self-defense weapons, allowing her to sell the remaining guns. Spock later presented the Burdizzo's crew with the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor in gratitude for their role in the Battle of Australis. The women warriors returned to the Principality with honor and a shipload of gold-pressed latinum.


Not the end.

Sidewinder wrote this 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic in 2006, based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by Gene Roddenberry. The new A-Team is based on characters created by Glen A. Larson, Frank Lupo, and Stephen J. Cannell.

In case anyone's curious, CSS means Communist Starship.


"What do you think?" Sidewinder asked.

Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and Mark Sheppard frowned at the movie screen. "Too much gay sex, not enough hetero." "Yeah, I wanna see a man's penis in a woman's vagina." "Or her ass."

"No problem, just give me another day to film it."
Last edited by Sidewinder on 2007-01-24 02:29am, edited 1 time in total.
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.

Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.

They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)

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Post by Sidewinder » 2006-11-28 02:13pm

Singular Quartet wrote:Yeah, the pron got cut off.
Sorry about that. Here's the complete scene:
"What do you think?" Sidewinder asked.

Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and Mark Sheppard frowned at the movie screen. "Too much gay sex, not enough hetero." "Yeah, I wanna see a man's penis in a woman's vagina." "Or her ass."

"No problem, just give me another day to film it."


Trigga'Happi sat on a hospital bed, "debriefing" Lt Lucy Janeway, the Starfleet Intelligence officer who warned Cdre Rice about Operation Perceived Brilliance. "In Kahless' name, you're tight!" the Klingon growled, his hands squeezing Lucy's breasts as the woman impaled herself on his penis.

"Oh! Yes! Fuck my ass! Ah!" Lucy cried.

The EMH Mark IV, based on 20th century actress Kiko Wu and programmed to relieve crewmembers' stress on long-term missions, self-activated and put her lips around Lucy's clitoris.

"Ah! Oh! I'm coming! Ah!" Lucy had another orgasm when the holographic woman fingered her vagina.

The EMH showered Lucy's belly with kisses, her left hand still playing with the woman's genitals, until her lips found Lucy's left nipple. She smiled as she suckled the woman, looking up to see Lucy's face contort in pleasure.

"Argh! I'm gonna come! I'm gonna pump your ass full of semen!" Trigga'Happi roared.

"No! Oh! Don't stop! Ah! Fucking me!"

A second EMH was activated to help the Klingon by gently squeezing his scrotum to prevent sperm from moving through the vas deferens, performing anilingus on Trigga'Happi as the first EMH pinched Lucy's clit.



Fanboy, Falk, and Shep smiled, watching Lucy have another orgasm. "Much better."
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.

Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.

They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)

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Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2006-11-28 09:11pm

Kamin Porno Fanfic
Chapter 15:
The Violation of Miles O'Brien

By Kamin and Kamin, with input from Kamin

Deep Space Nine

"Fuck, what a day...another 12 hour shift finished and another 40 ounces drained."

Chief Miles O'Brien tossed the empty bottle over the railing, hitting a pedestrian in the back of the head in the
process. He then rounded the corner to his own domicile. Back when Miles O'Brien served on the front lines
of the Federation-Cardassian "conflict" he had seen everything he thought he could possibly see. Friends
hideously disfigured by Cardassian energy fire, comrades flung into space during hull breaches, enemy
and allied corpses rotting beneath the sun covered in festering maggots.

(Of course this was all classified to help keep up the Starfleet image of "sterile warfare").

Like his father and his father before him and his father before him...etc...etc, there was nothing that could
faze the Chief so long as he had a bottle of scotch and a good woman to let out the excess anger on.
He told Keiko all about the horrible atrocities he committed, including the time he and his squad found a lone
Cardie scout on a routine patrol and exacted a little revenge for a few buddies that died the previous day.
In fact, Miles skill kept his "trophy rib" in a small chest under his bed.

His reason for telling her? So that she could look in the mirror after being disciplined just to realize how
good she had it. Black eyes, bruises, even the occasional busted lip, those were nothing compared to the
horrors of war. And as he began opening the door to his quarters he figured that he would remind her again
of how good she had it. Maybe it was his drunken stupor, or maybe it was the fatigue after a long day of work.
But as soon as Miles walked through the door, he felt a dull pain in the top of his head, and then suddenly
the world was black.

Keiko stood over her tormentor, for their entire marriage she had been bullied, victimized, and treated like
dirt. Miles always spoke about how his daddy kept "his old buzzard" in line. Well it was finally time to break
the cycle. It was in her garden that she had begun growing the oddly shaped plants. At first she just wanted
to see how selecting traits could give her various shapes, and then as her research progressed she had
discovered how to make the plants mold as she saw fit. In time she had perfected a perfect replica of the
Human penis with cucumber, carrot, and potato variations.

She knew the idea would make her impossibly rich, and she was even able to use the cucumber to compensate
for Miles' pathetic manhood. Keiko had long been unhappy with her sex life, on the Enterprise she had managed
to get enhancing supplements and instruments from that pervert Dr. Crusher but on Deep Space Nine, she had no
such luck. When she confronted Miles about her idea for a biological sex toy business with no need for mechanical
industry and no waste, she was met with yet another beating.

"No wife is going to use such things," he roared, "and if I catch you working on them, I'll crack some bloody
sense into your skull! You stay out of that lab, woman."

That had been the last straw for Keiko. Working in the lab, with all of its various plants and phallic potential
was her entire life. She knew Miles had access to the replicators and he would know if she touched them
to make something to defend herself. But she wouldn't need them, because she had the perfect plan.

She snuck off to the lab while Miles was on shift and perfected the ultimate weapon.

A meter long cucumber dildo which she crafted specifically to take out her husband, and he'd
have no way of tracking it.

Miles had said that he had to "realign the quantum regulator in the coaxial shutter tubes" today. Which was
his way of saying that once he got all of the work orders out of the way, he was going to sit in an access hatch,
shut off his communicator and get hammered until his shift ended or someone came to find him. This gave her
the opportunity she needed to take him out.

Then she walked out into the hallway and turned on teh transporters. Her cargoes were loaded intoz the shuttels and they were off like a rocket to go to the place. IT was a tupogh jurney but thens the spaceships arrvied and starteds shootinmgs each other. There was an EXPLSION and sudenly all teh lights went out....


Kamin turned away from his computer and looked behind him, only to be crushed with mortal embarassment as he copy-pasted large swaths of fanfiction into the "New post" window on spacebattles.com without any pants on. His seventh grade teacher had politely remarked on his last exam that his writing needed to improve. What better way to improve, he though, than to take from anonymous others on the internet?

Standing behind him now was a large goonish looking man carrying a chainsaw with a belt made from the bleached skulls of slain gnomes. On his face he wore a bloody hockey mask and he smelled of Gin and Jagermeister.

"Kamin, do you know who I am?"

Kamin gulped loudly. "Th...th....the tooth fairy?"

The large man shook his head slowly, menacingly. "No, try again."

Kamin stuttered again, he at least gave the works that he stole a cursory glance. "D..D..Darth Fanboy?"

"No, but you're getting warmer...I'm the Ghost of Fanfiction! Do you know why I'm here?"

Before Kamin could answer the Ghost had grabbed the handaxe from his belt and smashed it into the side of Kamin's face with the blunt end. "Because you sir, are a fucker. A fucker, and a thief."

Kamin pawed his hands at the ground, he tried vainly to pick up his teeth hoping that his original guess was correct and this was the Tooth Fairy on crack. He did not want to face the consequences of his actions stealing fanfiction. HIs blood slicked hands barely managed to pick up a cracked molar and a bicuspid before he was hit in the back of the head by the same axe and stuffed unconscious into a burlap bag.

Fanboy wrapped the bag with a pretty ribbon he had stolen from some gift shop while shoplifting Yankee Candles for sale in the future and then slipped back into the dimensional rift. Dalton Prime would be sending the Omniversal Fanfic Police for this punk any minute now, but he had to get at least one beating in.

HE took some satisfaction knowing that the Fanfic Police would carry out a brutal sentence, that would provide excellent filler for a later chapter.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2007-01-31 07:33am

First new UPF of 2007, a continuation of the Fanboy Origin Chapter while Shep still plugs away at the main arc.


The only thing escalating in the Exmodeus system quicker than the fighting is the body count, as thousands of Romulan and Jem Hadar die by the day. With the acquisition of Jem Hadar cloning technology and the Dominion outpost on the eighth planet, Shinzon's fleet has ripped its way through the Dominion lines and has begun landing forces on Exmodeus VIII.

The key to the Romulans' success has been the hired Mercenary brigade, formally known as the 5th Xenobatallion of the Romulan Star Empire. But even the famed "Army of Shadows" has suffered terrible casualties. From the conquest of Exmodeus VIII to the landing operations on Exmodeus III, nearly thirty percent of their number have been killed by the Dominion.

THe Dominion are now fighting a two front battle,with the Romulans and with the Borg Survivors of the crash site, who have discovered a way to overcome the Jem'HAdar Addiction to Ketracel White and have begun assimilating them into new warrior drones.

The army has been forced to set up an encampment several kilometers south of the main Dominion Headquarters, protected from Orbital Bombardment by camoflaguing targeting sensor scramblers and the ever-present Romulan Fleet. The life of a soldier is perilous, but at least two of the hired Mercs have discovered a way to pass the time in between battles.

A terrible electrical storm has forced both sides to seek shelter, even the hardened killer Fanboy and his estranged wife Fangirl are forced into a weather-proofed survival tent...

On very few worlds could the weather be described as deafening. But the powerful storms of the Exmodeus system raged harder than most anywhere else in known space. Lightning blasted and the wind howled as the rain beat down, it was a Ferengi's worst nightmare, and several of the multitude of species working for the 5th Xenobatallion had been forced to adorn themselves with gear normally designed to blunt attacks by sonic weaponry.

But Fanboy and Fangirl hardly noticed. The unique couple were filled with adrenaline after the latest battle, Fanboy had expended all of his remaining ammunition and power packs and had been forced to use a large knife modeled on the ancient Kukuri Knives used by the Gurkhas of 20th century Earth. He had gutted two Jem Hadar, which when added to the dozen or so that he had shot, had raised his personal kill total above the century mark. Fangirl had only killed on Jem Hadar, but had been part of an infiltration team that sabotaged several Dominion transporters. By the time the Dominion techs had figured it out, they had mishandled and inadvertantly destroyed several Jem Hadar combat units and a significant amount of military equipment.

Emboldened by their victory, and vulnerable to their own predisposition towards base animal behavior, they had camped their tent a fair distance away from the other mercenaries. A swig each from Fanboy's flask of Romulan Ale was all it took for the couple to fall into each other's arms. Their arousal was such that they had decided to skip foreplay.

Fanboy was lying on his back, his hands on Fangirl's hips as she rode him cowgirl style. Her hands gripping and caressing her breasts as she gyrated upon him. Her sex contracting around him as she clenched her body, eliciting a deep moan from her partner. Fanboy in turn raised his hand to her chest and firmly began to rub her right nipple around the piercing. This caused her to gasp and her hips began to rock back and forth. His cock was angled perfectly against her clit, and she took full advantage of it, grinding it against his shaft as his head drove deep inside of her.

They stopped, only briefly, to allow Fanboy to sit up and to let Fangirl wrap her legs around his waist. She reconnected with him and moaned as he thrust upwards into her. As he held her tightly against him her breasts pressed into him and she wrapped her arms around his body. She began to dig her nails into his back, causing him to fuck her harder. Sensing his arousal, she began to claw into his back, breaking his flesh and driving him wild. He tightened his grip and penetrated her deeper than ever.

The instense pleasure was too much for her. Her tight ass began rising and falling with speed as her body was pushed closer to climax. Before long her body began to spasm and shiver as her orgasm crashed over her like a wave. The two collapsed together on their air mattress with him lying down and her on top of him.

She collapsed onto her lover, his erect phallus still inside of her, she cuddled closer too him and buried her head in his chest, panting for air.

"Sweet fucking christ I haven't came that hard in ages. You're still the best." She purred.

"And you still have the finest curves in any quadrant."

She smirked as she rolled over to his side, tenderly sliding off of him, as she straddled his side she began to tenderly stroke him with her fingertips, massaging the engorged flesh with her fingertips from the base to the tip.

"If that's true lover, then why haven't you come yet?"

"That's easy." He sat up slightly, meeting her gaze with the same stare he had used to convince her to marry him in the first place. "Because I'm not finished. I'm not going to waste time on this rock waiting to die when I could be having my way with the most beautiful woman i've ever seen."

"Oh I see how it is," she paused to give his throbbing erection a kiss, she leaned over and finished the kiss with a slow deliberate swirl of her tongue. A move that caused Fanboy to exhale deeply and shudder beneath her. "I've had three orgasms, and yet you still want to have your way with me."


"And what would you do to have it?" she said as she got on her knees and crawled on all fours.

"Anything." He said in a low hushed voice, completely overtaken with lust.

Fangirl turned away from him and planted her arms firmly onto the air mattress. She wiggled her backside at him, compelling him to take her from behind. She turned her head to look behind her, "Lucky for you i'm insatiable tonight. This could be our last time."

The gravity of Fangirl's words were lost on Fanboy as he knelt behind her, placing his hands firmly on her hips and positioning himself inside of her.

The head of his cock explored her labia, using his right hand to grip himself, he used his shaft like a tool. Rubbing the soft head against her clit. She had always enjoyed being teased, he pressed the tip against her before sliding it inside of her. The wet, warm feeling of her pussy was intoxicating to Fanboy. His motion was slow at first, but before long he picked up his pace, his hands firmly on her hips and holding her perfectly in place. His body slapped against hers as he went harder and faster.

Fangirl was becoming fatigued but was enjoying herself too much to stop. In an attempt to save her energy she dropped her position slightly by lowering herself onto her elbow and leaning her head into a pillow. This caused her ass to rise higher, allowing Fanboy to fuck her even deeper.

"Oh god that feels so good..." She moaned, her hands gripping the pillow tighter.

Emboldened by her praise, Fanboy changed his grip, bracing her against him by clutching her left shoulder. He then used his right hand to deliver a powerful slap to her ass before gripping it tightly with the full hand. His body rocked against hers, causing her breasts to sway back and forth in rhythm with his thrusts.

"d..." She moaned. "...please Harder!"

He obliged her, pulling his hips back far enough that he nearly slid out of her before driving back into her. She moaned loud, and her breathing became frantic.

She was shocked when she felt Fanboy lean in over he, his pace softened. BEfore she could ask why however he had pulled her up onto his knees, he clutched his hands tightly over he breasts and squeezed them, the soft flesh of her ample bosom spilling through his fingers as he continued to fuck her from behind. she leaned her head back and began taunting him. She whispered, "That's it stud, fuck me, fuck me hard. I want you to come inside of me."

That was all Fanboy needed to hear, they tilted their heads towards each other and shared an intense, passionate kiss. As their tongues became entwined Fanboy lost his control and his moan echoed into her own mouth. They kissed and licked at each others lips feverishly as Fanboy's cock pounded Fangirl's cunt until finally he could hold back no more.

"Oh Christ i'm coming!"

His ecstacy hit her like a clap of thunder, triggering another staggering climax inside of her. With the last of their strength, they ground their bodies together in desperation in an attempt to burn the last of their sexual energy.

Finally satisfied, Fanboy gingerly pulled himself out of Fangirl. Too tired to even keep their eyes opened or even speak, they shared another kiss and lay down together on the air mattress. The humidity of the storm made blankets or any other type of covering impractical. Fangirl fell asleep in Fanboy's arms. Before his own eyelids gave in, he managed to mutter three barely audible words into her ear.

Silently, he vowed never to be apart from her again.

Dominion HQ

"I don't understand, we know where the Romulan camps are, why don't you Jem'Hadar do what you were bred to do and destroy them!"

Dizel was growing desperated. Although his underpowered garrison had managed to hold out in time for reinforcements to arrive, his was still a position under siege. To make matters worse, he had just recently been presented with the first evidence that there were still Borg alive and well inside the wreckage of the cube.

"An attack in these conditions would be a waste of time." Explained Third Triko'owa, currently the senior Jem'Hadar in charge of defending the outpost.

Dizel huffed. "I never thought you Jem'Hadar were such cowards. Not even your predecessors."

That had raised a few of Third Koma'aka's scales. Both the First and Second of his unit had died in fruitless attacks against Romulan-fortified positions. Attacks that had been needless and did not serve to defend the installations he had been charged with protecting. Dizel was a coward trying to put as many bodies between him and the enemy's weapons, that much was clear.

"The Jem'Hadar will fight any battle, so long as it serves our mission. We have been charged with defending this base by the Founders, if we send out our forces to attack now the base will be vulnerable. If the Koma'aka unit were made availiable then perhaps we might..."

"The Koma'aka unit is no more." Dizel interrupted, anger apparent in his voice. "You will have to make do with what you have." Dizel sighed, "As soon as you've gathered your forces, begin your attack."

Triko'owa left Dizel's office without a word. His suspicions had been confirmed, these mysterious Borg must still be alive within the cube wreckage. Triko'owa had only seen scant images on these Borg, and few Jem'Hadar had ever seen one. But they were quite dangerous, possibly even more so that the looming mercenary army. twelve units, including the senior Koma'aka unit had gone into that cube and never returned. To make matters worse, Dizel was now sending a sizeable portion of his forces into a battle with little chance of success while another enemy gained strength right on their doorstep.

"Stupid Vorta." Triko'owa though as he began assessing his combat roster.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2007-02-05 04:26am

Bridge of the Command Ship Scythe

"Admiral Shinzon! Surface scans show that a Dominion force is heading right for the mercenary encampment!" The Reman bridge officer yelled from his post.

Shinzon rose from his command console and averted his gaze from the fleet analysis he had been studying.

"Shall we contact the troop commanders?" The officer asked. "There are a significant number of Romulan troops alongside the mercenaries, our supporters..."

Shinzon raised his hand in a dismissive gesture to interrupt. "Our supporters do not know of what is transpirin, and besides, i'd be more likely to warn them if there weren't any Romulans." The Human Admiral then turned to his assistant Vkruk. "The Dominion must be incredibly desperate if they are moving on an entrenched enemy camp through inclement weather without any sort of support."

"Either that or incredibly stupid." Vkruk said, menacingly. "The war goes badly for them, however, there is something terribly strange from the Dominion Camp that I am unsure of.

Shinzon had learned to trust and rely in his confidant's mental abilities. "Dissention in the ranks?"

"No, that would be quite easy to sense," Vkruk stepped forward to view the storm blanketed surface of Exmodeus. "This is much more difficult, there is almost no emotion or feeling at all. NOrmally the Jem Hadar are in a constant state of latent anger, if not full blown range." Vkruk turned back to the Admiral, his expression was that of a Reman frown. "It may have something to do with the Borg Cube."

Shinzon's stomach turned. He was not prepared to deal with the Borg, not with the Dominion staring him right in the face. His plans had been too carefully set to risk against the two strongest powers in the known galaxy. "What is the status of the cube?"

"We have been unable to complete any recent scanning of the crash site, but we have detected no transmissions leaving this system on known Borg frequencies, and no transmissions at all save for our own and what few the Dominion manages to get past our jamming.

"HOnored Shinzon!" came the bridge officer's voice again. "Dominion Forces have tripped the camp's perimeter alarm, the transmission is garbled, but the battle has commenced.

"Find a way to work around that storm and then feed the data to my console!" Shinzon commanded. "This should prove to be quite entertaining." HE said with a sly grin on his face as he peered over at Vkruk. "Redouble your efforts to step up the jamming. If there are active Borg on the planet then we must make damn sure that they don't interfere.

Vkruk looked at Shinzon, puzzled by the sudden outburst, but the Admiral noticed too soon and was quick to respond. "Stay out of my mind Vkruk. I am my own man and there is nothing that is going to keep us from taking this system and everything in it that we need to conquer the entire Romulan Empire!"

It had been enough to dissuade Vkruk, who left in haste. But not enough to console his self. Deep down inside of him there was something inside Shinzon that was deathly afraid of the Borg.

He had read the files on what the Romulans had dubbed "The Battle of Sol". The battle had raged across the worlds of the Human's home system of planets, and central to that battle was Shinzon's genetic template. The reports gathered by the Tal'Shiar were chilling.

" I have never seen these things before, and yet they haunt me. Picard...what did they do to you?

Perimeter of the 5th Xenobatallion Encampment

Romulan sentries are typically quite good at their job, their dilligence and attentiveness being two holdovers of their Vulcan ancestry. With watchful eyes they scanned the horizons from their stations at the camp's perimeter.

But unfortunately for the Romulans, Jem'Hadar infiltrators were also excellent at their jobs, and their genetically enforced obedience had made them quite dilligent as well in the name of the Founders of the Dominion. The Jem'Hadar knew full well that the attack they were executing was made in ignorant haste. Their Vorta commander Dizel was growing more desperate by the day to regain control of his world. Obediently, they had marched out of their camp and into what would prove to be a horrible fire. THe low morale was never a factor with the battle-hardened soldiers, and for several units it had actually motivated them to fight harder. Those motivated included the lead units that were charged with eliminating sentries. They waited, poised in the Darkness until the electrical storms flared up enough to cause a disruption in the Romulan's scanning equipment. They would then creep in close to the location, sometimes crawling low over jagged rocks just to get snipers in close enough. One group of Jem'Hadar who had lost their unit sniper in a previous battle managed to get in close enough to a pair of Romulan guards to spit on them. Instead of spitting however, they overran the station, grabbing both of the guards and silencing them by restrainging their limbs and clamping powerful hands over their mouths. One of the Romulans put up enough of a fight that his Jem'Hadar kidnappers were forced to snap his neck. The other was dragged behind a rock formation beyond the gaze of any other Romulan sentries. He was then forcibly fed some of the Jem Hadar's precious Ketracel white, which kept him alert and conscious as two of the more sadistic Jem Hadar gutted him alive as they waited for word to commence the attack.

When the order game, huge gaps in the perimeter allowed hundreds of Jem Hadar to rush into the secure zone of the camp unimpeded, giving them a fighting chance. Romulans and Mercenaries that had taken the opportunity to rest while the weather raged around them were rudely awakened to the fact that War never took a time out. Many died before they could even hoist their weapon, but enough managed to resist that the alarm sounded and the order to fight back spread through the camp.

Fanboy was still awake, unable to sleep after enjoying a long overdue fuck. His wife curled up next to him for the first time in a long time. For a time he had thought himself over her, but now the desire was as fierce as ever. She ignited fires within him, sriving his lust and passion beyond what he thought was humanly possible.

The sounds of alarm klaxons mixed with disruptor fire awakened his senses as if he had been struck by Exmodean lightning, leaping to his feet, he had only enough time to throw on some pants and slap on some of his battle equipment when he heard the first shot impact near his tent.

"Get up." He shook Fangril's shoulder as she lay curled up on the mattress. She rubbed her hand on her face and sneered at him with her hair partially hanging in front of her face.

"Some pillow talk there lover, if you want to have me again you could at least wait until i'm awake."

He ignored her sarcasm and handed her one of his recharged disruptors. "The camp is under attack, i'll draw the fire away from the tent so you can arm yourself. When we're done killing these spikefaces for ruining our morning I'll make you some breakfast."

Fanboy darted out of the tent and made it all of four steps before he was spear tackled by an incredibly angry Jem'Hadar. He raised his guard just in time to block a series of punches to his face. As the Jem'Hadar raised his hands for an axehandle smash that would have surely crushed Fanboy's skull, the merc managed to grab a rock within his reach and crash it violently into his attacker's face. The Jem Hadar turned but was felled in one shot but Fanboy, who had drawn his fifty caliber Desert Eagle.

"Fuck if bullets aren't expensive enough already to be wasting on you Jemmie sons of bitches." Fanboy cursed before realizing that the Jem'Hadar he had just killed did not even have a weapon. "Low on equipment eh? Looks like the Dominion armory needs to get restocked."

Fanboy turned as he heard the Jem'Hadar battle cry behind him. A pair of eager Jem'HAdar were ready to take on this beast from another quadrant who had just killed their brother, without even bothering to line up their shots they began to fire, forcing Fanboy to dive for cover behind one of what fanboy suspected were millions of large shuttle sized rocks on the planet. Fanboy leaned out slightly from behind his cover and fired a shot that drilled right into the lead Jem'Hadar's center of mass. Causing him to fall to the ground in tremendous pain. The second one, recognizing the mistake of his dying comrade, dove behind cover as well.

That had proved to be a completely different fatal mistake as the rock suddenly exploded. Jagged bits of stone and fragmentation from Fangirl's grenade had been mercilessly effective, and body parts of the two Jem'HAdar were strewn about the area.

"Oh he blowed up good. You'd think the Dominion would breed these guys smarter." She laughed

"I dunno," Fanboy mused. "They're still way ahead of your average Starfeet pajama clad toy soldier." He paused to turn and look at her. She was barely dressed save for her underwear, an ammo belt, and a pair of boots with knives sheathed in each boot. In her arms she hefted a M4A1 Rifle from Fanboy's personal collection with an added m203 Grenade launcher from hers.

"When we get off this stupid rock. You have to wear that again for me sometime."

"I'll think about it if you let me keep the gun."

Before Fanboy could deliver his sarcastic remark, she was already screaming at him to dive for cover. At that very same moment, the Jem'Hadar attack fighter began streaking right at them.

Author's note: This chapter now replaces the ill-designed '1n73RLUD3', thanks for staying interested!
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2007-03-12 02:57am

UPF Episode -1: Part VI

Standing in line to see the show tonight

and theres a light on...Heavy glow

By the way I tried to say i'd be there... waiting for...

"You love me?"



"I dunno."

"Come on, i'm being serious."

"So am I."

"Okay, if you can't tell me why, at least tell me for how long."


"Damnit! First you come into the club where i'm working and get into a fistfight with a guy who was trying to grope me, then you convince me that there's more money smuggling outside of civilized space, and then you stab my old boss in the face with an icepick because he tried to keep me from leaving! IS it a crime that I want to know why you think i'm so important?"


"Fine. I can play the quiet game too."

[several minutes pass]

".....when I first saw your face."

"Oh? The masked man speaks!"

"I can't explain any of your questions. I can't even explain why I feel the way I do. But I do feel this way, and I will always protect you."

"D....I love you too."

5th Xenobatallion Encampment, Exmodeus III

"GET DOWN!" Fanboy screamed at the top of his lungs. He hurled his body towards Fangirl and pushed her out of the way as the attack fighter's guns roared to life. The initial strafe missed, but Fanboy knew that the pilot wouldn't miss another opportunity.

That was, if he had another opportunity. The raging storm above his craft was already wreaking havoc on the small fighter's snesor systems, and Fanboy wondered exactly how or why the fighter was allowed to take off.

"They must be desperate!" Fangirl yelled as she took aim with her rifle, hoping that he could score a lucky shot with the added grenade launcher. It would not be necessary, as a terrible bolt of lightning struck the fighter's left nacelle, sending it careening into a nearby mountain.

"Hopefully that's the last of them, you know Shinzon won't send any Scorpions down to back us up while this storm is on."

"Lover, save the small talk for after we've gotten these scaly cloned motherfuckers out of our love nest."

"True, oh that reminds me, we can now cross the Beta Quadrant off our list."

"Oh yeah that's right. Just one trip to the Delta quadrant and we'll have had freaky sex in all four of them! Although i'm still not sure the Gamma Quadrant counts."

"Hey, you and I both climaxed as soon as that runabout we stole exited into realspace on the other side. That counts."

The Jem'Hadar had great intial success, but once the alarms had started to ring and the inhabitants of the camp began to mobilize, the failure of the attacks imminent. The guards of the inner perimeter were able to set up Turret-mounted heavy disruptors and sealed off all of the accesible paths into the center of the camp at chokepoints. Off Duty Mercenaries eager to add to their paychecks actively hunted down and sought out Jem'Hadar in roving mobs, turning predators into prey. Despite this incredible setback, there was still one last chance for the Dominion to attain at least a semblance of victory.

A squad of Jem'Hadar scouts had taken up a position on a small cliff overlooking down into the camp's temporary administrative area. The Romulan commanders had thought it to be the most fortified place in the area, but Fanboy and several of the mercs avoided it like and infectious disease. It was situated in a low crevice which protected it well from ground troops so long as they didn't occupy the ridges above it. Now instead of a protected shelter, it was turned into a fishbowl of ripe slaughter. The Romulans scattered like frightened children and had nowhere to run except into the waiting arms of another Squad, who waited patiently in the shadows before gutting the fleeing Romulans, disemboweling them and spilling green blood across the rugged surface of Exmodeus. The alert had gone out from the command tent to all availiable soldiers for assistance, but all of the Romulan units were occupied and none of the mercenary units seemed to care about a handful of Jem HAdar when there were plenty more to be hunted in the surrounding hills.

Fanboy and Fangirl crept in close behind one of the Jem'Hadar. GEsturing at each other with hand signals they waited for but a few short moments before discarding their cover to attack. Fanboy put three bullets into the back of one of the Jem'Hadar with his Desert Eagle while Fangirl shredded the abdomen of his partner with a squeeze of the trigger from her M-16.It took all of Fanboy's willpower to fight off what would have been a massive erection, watching his estranged wearing next to nothing gun down creepy fucking aliens was a long held fantasy of his. He promised under his breath that he would fuck her again afterwards, orders from high command be damned.

That is if there was still a high command left, alerted to the presence of the humans, the nearby Jem'Hadars began to make a beeline towards the fishbowl. They knew their lives were forfiet, but they were determined to kill sas many of the enemy leaders as they could, preserving a chance that the forces back at their own base could overcome a leaderless enemy. Fangirl began to chase after them, but was held back by her lover. "Wait." He said as he peered down into the opening that the second squad of Jem'Hadar were using to cut off the Romulans' escape. He handed her a small beautifully decorated object. "When you get my signal, wait five seconds, then pull the pin and toss this down into that little opening there."

"What the hell this?"


"No shit sherlock, what kind of grenade?"

"Why, it's the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch!"

Fangirl, not unfamiliar with Fanboy's predisposal towards 20th century television references, chuckled slightly.

"Don't laugh," Fanboy warned, "That's the real goddamn deal. Fucker's got more bang than the warp core of a GCS. Make sure you wait those five seconds or i'm fried shit on burnt toast."

Fanboy then took a running start, and then prepared to jump down from the ridge to a ledge about six feet down where could could climb into the sinkhole faster. BEfore he jumped Fangirl called out to him "Wait! What's the Signal!"

As Fanboy descended through the air he yelled back "I HAVEN'T THOUGHT OF IT YET, JUST KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!"

Dani the girl is singing songs to me beneath the marquee... of her soul

By the way I tried to say Id be there... waiting for

"I haven't thought of it yet, just keep your eyes open."

"Well I don't care where we go after we bail out of DS9, just so long as they serve breakfast and have hot water in the showers."

"I was actually thinking we'd stay at DS9 for a while."

"Are you fucking joking me? We have more Federation warrants on us than a Vulcan has bugs up his ass."

"The station's still tehnically Bajoran, and I used to run guns to them during the Cardie occupation. We'll never see the inside of a court in Bajoran space again."

"Yeah, but didn't you tell me you also used to bring in postitutes to the Occupying forces?"

"How do you think I got the guns through? Even a Cardassian can't think straight when he's got blue balls."

"Clever. But why would we stay at DS9 anyways? There isn't that much to do there that we can't do on our own ship, and the minibar on our ship is stocked just as well as Quarks'."

"Yeah, but they do have holosuites, and like you said, they have hot showers. There's also some paperwork I have to do there..."

"Paperwork? Why in the hell would you need to do paperwork! You don't pay taxes, you kill and plunder for a living, and you can't even sit still long enough to finish writing a simple sentence."

"Ok, I lied, I booked a room and a holosuite for several evenings [Kneels]."


"There's something I want to ask you..." [procures a ring from his pocket, shortly afterwards the two kiss.

"This is not a good time to be having flashbacks." Fanboy muttered to himself as he crept quietly through the beseiged command center encampment. It didn't take him long before he found one of the Romulan officers cradling his self behind a large pile of wrecked communications equipment.

"Hey, Greenblood." Fanboy smirked using one of several politically incorrect terms for Romulans. "What's your rank."

"First...A..a..aide to Colonel Ivarat! But' he's dead..."

"Well that's good news!" Fanboy smiled as the plan he had sought came together in his head. "Because you just got promotoed to take his spot."

"You don't have the authority to do that!" The frightened military bureaucrat snapped.

"No, but the Jem Ha'dar don't know that." Fanboy said.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2007-05-08 07:34pm



May 15th, 2007- Celebrity fanwhores and media pundits suffering from a slow day of news were shocked today when they found out that, due to a clerical error, Paris Hilton was mistakenly booked into Arkham Asylum. The court officer blames the incident on a simple visual mistake.

"After Miss Hilton's sentencing hearing she was taken into custody by Officer McGeough, perhaps the most nearsighted baliff in the history of the California Courts." Hilton's lawyer said at a news conference on Monday.

Officer McGeough, unfamiliar with popular culture and the entertainment media and legally blind without his eyeglasses, apparently mistook the wealthy heiress for The Scarecrow. A Batman villain whose modus operandi is to instill overpowering fear in his victims. Unfortunately for Miss Hilton, The clerk who processed her into the criminal courts had mentally checked out due to his impending two week cruise to the Carribean and had her sent to Arkham.

"Why it took so long to uncover this mistake is beyond me. This is a terrible thing to do to a beautiful, and kind young woman whose only mistake in life was driving under the influence of alcohol with a suspended license while on probation for a similar offense." Hilton's mother said.

During her seven days in Arkham, Paris has been kept in the same wing as other notable Batman Villains such as the Joker, Two Face, and Ron Mexico, who faked his own death for the fourteenth time in order to evade the Dark Knight but was eventually apprehended. These villains, however, are almost as appalled to have to share living space with Hilton as much as her family and fans.

"I've been murdering people by the dozens for years." said The Joker. "But I get nowhere near half the attention that this drama queen gets on a daily basis. So she's rich and has a tiny dog, I've used chemical weapons on innocent people just for the sexual thrill! I once choked a man until his eyes bugged out because of a ten dollar bet I had with the Penguin! But I don't even make the front page of the paper anymore. She even sells cosmetics like I used to do! I mean I didn't sell them so much as I tried to wipe out an entire city with tained perfume, of course, but that was back when people didn't want botulism and other toxins sprayed in your face and it was considered repulsive to do so. If I had done that now i'd have enough money to get as much attention as...as...Paris fucking Hilton!"

Because Paris' transfer paperwork from the California DOC cleared all opposition and her sentence at Arkham has become official, it will now take several legal proceedings to extradite her back to California, some legal experts say that the proceedings may take longer than the 45 day sentence she has been given.

Rumors are abound of a conspiracy involving Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger secretly transferring Hilton out of California at the behest of an unnamed Lobbyist known only as "C. Kent".

I know very little about this "C. Kent", Hilton's lawyer said outside of the LA County Courthouse where Paris was originally sentenced, "But I can tell you this, he must be a real dick.


One of the creators of UPF, Darth Fanboy, announced a bold proposal to reignite the stagnant main storyline of The Unnamed Porno Fanfic, which has taken a backseat to side stories and filler stories such as this one.

"When resynergizing a brands paradigm, it is important to create a new dynamic for the format which translates into consumer awareness." Said Fanboy. When asked for a translation into english, Fanboy only responded by "throwing up the horns" with his right hand, slamming his left fist into the table, and yelling "IT'S GOING TO FUCKING ROCK" before shattering the conference table with a massive erection. When asked about the remake of "Gnome Hunter" Fanboy was more elusive.

"Obviously there's a lot of shit I have to do, 'Scars of Mustafar' deserves a little love and with Comic Con coming up I have to continue the Gundam/Transformers crossover annual tradition. Then of course I mightinhale a pint of ether and continue working on Fear and Loathing in Mos Eisley. UPF will always be dear to my heart though. What was the question?"
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2007-05-09 04:08am

Episode -1, Part VII

The Jem'Hadar blocking the exit from the Romulan Command station were frustrated. For the first two minutes of their assault they had found plenty of easy targets and piled up a gruesome kill count, but they had been far too efficient and were now left with the mind numbing task of guarding a valley of the dead, waiting for the inevitable Romulan counterattack. The fortified position they held would allow them to kill many.

The leader of the squad, First Kuva'traka, was just about ready to have the rest of his brethren take refuge in better positions that would allow them to spot the counterattack when he spotted a human mercenary, larger than average for his species, escorting a cowering Romulan behind cover closer to their position.

"Idiot simian." The Jem'HAdar thought. "Not only did you present us with a target, but you made you and your Romulan much easier to shoot." Then Fanboy said something that really caught the cloned veteran's attention.

"Don't worry Colonel! I'll get you out of here!"

Fanboy's lie was yelled just loud enough so that he knew the Jem'Hadar could hear them. The Romulan aide who followed him tried vainly to explain that posing as a superior officer was a capital offense, but Fanboy paid no heed. the poor shmuck wouldn't even be alive for much longer.

The bright flash of incoming fire gave away the Jemmies' position, Fanboy's gamble had paid off and he now had the exact position of his quarry. Emboldened, they would probably advance forward to verify that they had struck down an important Romulan commander before moving on to the mercenary. Fanboy looked over his shoulder, the Romulan aide was four meters away to his left, bleeding profusely thanks to the decoagulating effects of the Jem Hadar energy weapons. It was time for him to call in his artillery, thinking fast, he unclipped a container of a sticky substance from his belt and dumped it onto the corpse of the Romulan corpse, mixing it in with the green blood. He then waited silently as the Jem Hadar moved in to confirm their kill.

Thinking tht they had defied the odds, managing to assassinate an important enemy commander even as the rest of their attack failed around them had emboldened Fanboy's attackers. The squad crept closer until they could see their prize in plain sight. The human mercenary had referred to him as a "Colonel", a military rank of high importance. BEfore they could verify his rank however, A brash man walked slowly from out behind a large rock, clapping his hands slowly and smoking a very large cigar.

Fanboy pulled the cigar from his mouth and exhaled through his nose, sending a puff of smoke through his nostrils like a dragon guarding the gates of hell, and it showed in his eyes as well.

"Congratulations you scaly shitheads. You just managed to shoot the personal ball washer of some clueless Romulan snotfucker. I hope you're proud of yourselves."

The lead Jem Hadar took a step forward and raised his weapon.

"Nuh uh uh," Fanboy admonished. "You kill me now and I can't tell you where to find where his boss is hiding at."

The Jwm'HAdar, not wanting to risk losing such valuable information, and desperate for another chance to gain some measure of victory, lowered his weapon only slightly.

"You will toss aside your...whatever it is..and provide us with the information we desire."

"And what do I get in return?" Fanboy asked, his cocky expressions mirroring Hannibal from the old A-Team reruns.

"We will grant you a relatively painless death." The Jem'Hadar scoffed.

Fanboy plucked the cigar from his lips and braced himself for the sprint of his life. "All right, sounds fair to me."

He then flicked the cigar at the Romulan corpse, which suddenly burst into flames. The nearest Jem Hadar was also on fire, as he had exposed himself to much of Fanboy's hommeade superadhesive Napalm while rummaging through the effects of the corpse. Seeing the flames spout upwards, Fanboy turned around as quickly as he could. Gaining enough ground in that split second to avoid getting himself killed, or so he hoped.

Atop the ridge, Fangirl looked down and could barely make out the fracas. But she saw the incinerating Jem'Hadar and the burning Romulan Corpse as clear as day.

"I would say a burning corpse and Jem'Hadar counts as a signal..." She said out loud to herself, she then pulled the pin on Fanboy's Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. She hurled the grenade through the air with incredible precision, placing it right between Fanboy and the pursuing Jem'Hadar.

Fanboy reached into his pocket to pull out his flashbeacon in order to flash a signal in Morse Code but looked up just in time to see his beloved grenade flying at him.

"Fuck, I should have known she'd think a burning corpse was a signal. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Taking off at a dead sprint through a clear area,Fanboy moved as fast as his frame could carry him. He was just fast enough to avoid being incinerated, but not fast enough to avoid being caught at the periphery of the blastwave, which sent him careening into a cluster of jagged rocks that gouged him severely. His head avoided the sharp points but still slammed into the side of a stalagmite with such force that it rendered him unconscious.

"I don't want you coming along on this job."

"What? Why the hell not!"

"It's too dangerous, these Orion Syndicate types drool over the chance to gut me like a pig and send me to the taxidermist so they can mount me in some compromising position in some two-bit lieutenant's hideaway."

"Well maybe if you hadn't stolen every credit, treasure, and sensitive bit of information they had you could get your hands on..."

"Don't forget I absconded with their most beautiful dancer from their most profitable cantina so that I could make her my wife and tap that seductive ass all night long on any planet regardless off axial rotation. Besides It's the perfect crime, it's not like those Pirates are going to be calling in the Feds or anything like that. It's the closest thing to legitimate work i've ever had."

"And because you made me your wife, you're stuck with me. That includes this job."

"Not this time."

"If you leave without me, then I won't be here when you get back. At least if I go along you only risk losing me, instead of guaranteeing it with this macho bullshit you're trying to pull."

"Wake up!"

"....I didn't believe you."

"What are you talking about?" she said to him as he regained consciousness.

Fanboy woke up with Fangirl cradling his head in her arms, Romulan soldiers and mercenaries were swarming all over the area investigating and scavenging the Jem'Hadar corpses. Fanboy looked around and groaned as the brightness of a Romulan spotlight swiveled directly into his eyes before continuing to scan the area around the nearby hills for Jem Ha'dar.

"Nothing." Fanboy tried to climb to his feet but was still dazed from the blast. "I just sent the signal a little too early."

Fangirl looked back at him and gave him a quizzical look, the kind of look a curious woman gives when she knows a man isn't telling the entire truth. That combined with her furious yet dazzling eyes made her striking in the artificial lights.

"I noticed. C'mon, the greenbloods had a few medical corpsman turn the command tent into a field hospital. We'll get you patched up in no time and by the time they have you walking again you'll be able to welcome me back from my assignment."

Fanboy looked up at her and his eyes opened wide. In that instant he finally understood the answer to the question that had torn his psyche for so long.

Nothing is more brutal than the truth.

Jem Ha'dar Command Center

If the Vorta had a way to quantify in their species, they would be able to confirm the fact that the current incarnation of Dizel was the most fearful of all.

At first he had feared he would be executed for the botched attack on the Romulan forces that had seen minimal damage to the Romulan mercenary corps, and a significant number of losses for the Jem Ha'dar. Now that possibility seemed like a sweet release, because as word had spread through the camp that the attack had failed, a new threat emerged from the depths.

Assimilated Jem'Hadar and Cardassian Technicians were suddenly pouring out of the Cube and acquiring every iota of Dominion technology they could. The few remaining Dominion defenders had been routed as the Assimilated Jem'Hadar Borg managed to use their newfound cybernetic enhancements to their advantage, while still retaining some of the characteristics that made them fierce warriors to begin with. Overcoming many of the limitiations of standard Borg drones, these Jem'Hadar were fast, agile, and backed by the Collective mind of one of the most powerful species in the galaxy.

Only by sealing themselves in a bunker did the Jem'Hadar manage to spare their remaining forces from the Borg onslaught. Unable to penetrated the outer defenses without heavier equipment, the Borg retreated into the cube.

In Dizel's hand was a small disruptor pistol he carried in case of emergency situations, he had heard of the Borg, and the horrors they inflicted upon the minds of individuals.

"Imminent assimilation would definitely qualify as an emergency situation." He thought. Although the Dizel bloodline would die, he could at least move on knowing that he had served the Founders without question. In order to fulfill his duties however, he would have to make sure that the secrets of his base were as carefully guarded as possible, and destroyed if necessary.

If the Borg managed to assimilate the Dominion/Borg hybridized technology developed at this particular research station, they may become unstoppable.

To Be Continued!

Looking for the PAris Hilton/Arkham Asylum post? It's the previous one before this one!~DF
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Sidewinder » 2007-06-12 12:59pm

EDITED 16JUN2007-- my "antifungal treatment" didn't make sense.
Captain Thomas Eugene "Tom" Paris watched stars fly by as the CSS Voyager, the Intrepid 2 class explorer's cloaking device activated, entered Gonghe space. The Gonghe Republic was supporting the false Federation in the Civil War by refitting the traitor Starfleet's Galaxy class explorers into assault ships-- the Voyager's mission was to destroy the shipyards and the traitor Starfleet vessels being refitted there.

Tom was a capitalist, not a communist. He didn't share the ideals of FUCKUP's military leaders, but he knew if President Spock successfully reestablished a capitalistic market economy, those who'd embraced the communistic New World Economy-- planets that forsook their government treasuries, citizens who forsook their bank accounts and investment portfolios-- would demand the return of their money. The forsaken money was currently lining the pockets of FUCKUP admirals like Tom's father, Owen Paris-- if the money was returned, Tom would lose his inheritance.

The mission began badly. Candida albicans (a fungus that caused jock itch) infected the Voyager's bio-neural gel packs, crashed the ship's computer, and left her dead in space. Tom ordered the gel packs coated with the antifungal medication terbinafine hydrochloride-- Lamisil-- only to face a recurrence of the infection. Three more failures occurred before Tom found the cause: Lance Corporal Zweihaender Snowman, a self-proclaimed "super marine" created through genetic engineering, was using the gel packs as pocket pussies, shoving his infected penis into the gel packs to sexually stimulate himself. Tom fired his phaser pistol at Zweihaender, executing the marine before ordering the gel packs coated again-- fifth time was the charm.

'Good riddance.' Tom listened to Zweihaender complain about how the captain was violating his constitutional rights until the moment his tongue was vaporized. 'The next new human to complain about violations of their constitutional rights will...' Boom! "What the fuck?!"

The helmsman reported, "Captain, we apparently struck a mine." Boom! "We apparently struck another mine." Boom!

"Reverse impulse, you retard!"

The helmsman angrily turned to Tom-- the Voyager continued sailing into the minefield. "Captain, I am offended by your--" Boom! "Disrespect of people suffering from learning disabilities--" Boom! "And will be filing a formal complaint--"

Tom fired his pistol at point-blank range, killing the helmsman. He sprinted to the flight controls-- two more mines exploded, cracking the viewscreen, before the Voyager was out of the minefield. "How the fuck did we end up in that minefield?!" the captain demanded. "It should be marked as a 'danger zone' on our maps!"

The tactical officer answered, "This sector is designated as a security zone on our map of Gung-Ho," Gonghe, "space, indicating the sector is subject to frequent patrols by Gung-Ho Navy vessels, due to concerns over smuggling and piracy. However, the SHIT," Strategic Headquarters for the Improvement of Technology, "report on this sector states, 'We-- I mean, criminal elements that are in no way connected to us-- can sail down the Gung-Ho security zones like a cock down a whore's throat.'"

Tom pulled the PADD out of the tactical officer's hand. "Who wrote this...?" He frowned at the byline. "Admiral Brannon Braga."

"Sir, we're being hailed-- it's a Gung-Ho Navy patrol," the communications officer reported.

Tom stared at the Constitution WANK class heavy cruisers onscreen-- then he slammed the PADD against the tactical officer's head. "Why didn't you pay attention, you retard! You should've detected them before they got within weapons range!" The tactical officer's mouth opened to protest, and then closed-- he didn't want to share the helmsman's fate.

"GGV Bixie to unidentified vessel, you are in Gonghe space. Decloak and power down your weapons, or we will open fire." The WANK cruiser's heavy PENIS cannon looked like a dragon's fiery tongue-- the F-7 Viper fighter squadron, launching from her hangar, were the dragon's teeth, ready to tear the Voyager to pieces.

"Shit! What the fuck am I...?" Tom took deep breaths to calm down. 'Think, think, think.' He turned to the engineer. "Prepare to generate an anti-magnetic field through the outer hull." The engineer frowned, as if Tom was asking him to lick his shit off the captain's cock. "Prepare," Tom drew his pistol, "to generate an anti-magnetic field," he targeted the engineer's head, "through the outer hull."

Piss flowed down the engineer's pants. "Yes, Captain."


Aboard the Bixie, Lieutenant Haruka Tenou aimed the WANK cruiser's weapons at the "Intrepid 2 class assault ship." The Voyager decloaked-- then the anti-magnetic field repelled the nano-machines deployed to form the ship's ablative hull armor. The nano-machines became chaff, shielding the Voyager from the WANK cruisers' sensors. Haruka heard the order, "Fire!" and complied, clearing away the chaff to reveal empty space-- the Voyager had disappeared. "Evasive action!" The Bixie dived to dodge an expected counterattack.

The attack wasn't launched-- Tom, realizing the Voyager was outnumbered and outgunned, chose to engage the cloaking device and fly between the maneuvering WANK cruisers to escape.

The WANK cruisers searched the area for 30 minutes before Commander Setsuna Meiou, the cruiser squadron leader, concluded the Voyager was no longer there. "Neat trick," she deadpanned.

"I say, that ship dispersed chaff like powdered sugar off a donut!" Haruka added.

"Very well. Label that maneuver as the Powdered Donut Defense and plan countermeasures against it," Setsuna ordered.



An 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic by Sidewinder, 2006-2007. Based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry.


Fanboy breathed deeply, aiming his GLOCK 45T training pistol at a woman, the rubber bayonet bent over her throat protector. He had difficulty seeing-- a simunition hit his visor, covering it with blue paint-- but he knew he was out of ammo, feeling the change in the pistol's balance after the slide locked to the rear. Blue paint covered every surface of the training room-- ceiling, walls, floor, and pillars.

"What a rush!" Capt Ai Teppou writhed in her protective gear like a porn star about to perform a striptease. In fact, she was a porn star-- she used royalties from her media appearances to buy the MV Steel Angel, an ex-Gonghe Navy WANK cruiser.

Fanboy smiled. "Wanna feel a greater rush?" he asked, patting his groin protector.

"No. Sorry, Fanboy, but you're not my type-- you don't have a vagina." Ai holstered her rubber bayonet-equipped training pistols. "Let's review the video to see who won." A hologram projector lowered from the ceiling to play a recording of the battle between the mercenaries-- Ai watched the holographic Fanboy grab the barrel of her right pistol and push it sideways, trying to tear the weapon out of her hand. "Slow..." She watched herself duck as Fanboy squeezed the trigger, the simunition flying harmlessly overhead. "Slow..." The holographic Ai kicked Fanboy's right kneepad, making him lean to that side. "Slow..." Ai fired the left pistol as Fanboy slashed at her throat. "Stop." The simunition froze in midair, one centimeter from Fanboy's visor, as the bayonet touched her throat. "A draw."

"No, I won," Fanboy insisted. "My bayonet would've cut open your throat before your bullet splattered my brains all over the ceiling."

Ai laughed. "You're the only mercenary I know who thinks a successful kamikaze attack is a win." She approached the door. "You're skilled at Gun Shou," using firearms in hand-to-hand combat.

"Baby, I only demonstrated one percent of my skills today."

"If you're still alive the next time the Steel Angel docks here, please show me more."

Fanboy smiled at the challenge. "Deal." He watched Ai's hips sway as she marched out of the room. 'If she was hetero or bi, I'd...'


"Greetings, Master," Candy Suxxx greeted as a Mandalorian supercommando boarded the Skullfucker, a Firespray class patrol ship whose warp nacelles were disguised photon torpedo launchers-- her duty station. "How was your day?"

Fanboy removed his helmet. "I met a gal who orgasms when she fires a gun. Too bad she's a dyke."

"Would you like me to suck on her clit and get her pussy ready for your monster cock?" Candy was a Soong type "sexaroid"-- Doctor Noonien Soong licensed the designs to Gonghe sex toy manufacturers, using the royalties to fund research on positronic brains. She was programmed to help Fanboy get his girlfriends hungry for his cock.

"Not now-- I got bills to pay. What's the word on Outer Heaven?" a network for private military contractors and their employers.

"The Gonghe military liaison reported an unidentified Intrepid or Intrepid 2 class assault cruiser, suspected to be in FUCKUP service, entered Gonghe space at stardate..." Candy heard her master laugh as she completed her report.

"So they want me to find this assault cruiser," the mercenary's fingers made quotation marks, expressing sarcasm at the Gonghe military's designation for the explorer, "and blast it to pieces?"

"The military is offering a substantial bonus for the capture of this ship, and for EPWs," enemy prisoners of war.

"I need help to do that-- Federation marines are spineless worms, but even they can be a threat if they outnumber me. Maybe..." Fanboy ran to his communicator.


"Falk" Falkenhorst and Mark "Shep" Sheppard laughed when Fanboy refused to help them rob a bank, warning the pornographers, "Gonghe police vehicles are painted blue." They gained newfound respect for the mercenary as two robot lions, painted blue and mounting red beacons, drove down the street. "What the fuck are those things?!" Falk asked.

Shep opened the file "SHIT Assessment: The Gung-Ho Military" on his PADD. "MA-8 Cougar infantry fighting vehicle," the computer reported. "This four-legged mechanized striker is--" Shep pressed the FAST FORWARD button. "Known variants-- MA-8P antiriot vehicle. Crew: 3 + 8. Main armament: 4 x 155 mm Gauss cannons," Shep glanced at the four-gun turret on a robot's back, where a Gonghe Public Security officer stood, his right hand waving at cheering children as his left hand rested on an antiaircraft cannon. "Secondary armament: 3 x micro PENIS cannons (1 antiaircraft, 2 antipersonnel)," he glanced at the robot's head, the cannons resembling fangs, "24 chaff grenade launchers," he glanced at the shoulders, "two power claws," he glanced at the forepaws.

"What are those Gauss cannons loaded with?"

"Microwave emitting and tear gas dispersal rounds for riot control, fuel-air explosive and incendiary rounds for counter-terrorism, shrapnel and armor piercing explosive rounds for repelling an invasion... Those things can hurt us, no doubt about it."

"Can your bazooka," a man-portable micro-torpedo launcher, "kill them?"

Shep's head shook. "The design is compartmentalized. If I shoot the passenger compartment to kill the cops inside, the gunner will live to shoot those Gauss cannons at us. If I shoot off the Gauss cannons, the cops will live to charge out and shoot us. If I shoot the reactor to immobilize it, the emergency power cell will supply enough power to let the gunner shoot the Gauss cannons, and lower a ramp so the cops can charge out and shoot us."

"Fuck." Falk turned to see a holographic woman dancing, advertising a topless bar. "Let's think this over a stiff drink." The pornographers entered the bar, paid the cover charge, and sat at a table serving as a topless dancer's stage. "Hey, Baby! Wanna be a movie star?"

The dancer smiled at the pornographers. "Will I be paid a percentage of profits?"

Falk laughed nervously. 'Damn Gung-Ho bitches are too smart for our own good.'

"How about a lap dance?" Shep added.

The dancer put her left calf on Shep's shoulder, making him focus on her groin. "30 yuan." She quickly bent her right leg, making her breasts jiggle. Shep smiled like an idiot, reaching for Falk's wallet.

Falk grabbed Shep's wrist, stopping his business partner. "Don't even think about it," he hissed in Ferengi.

"Don't be jealous," the dancer said. "I don't mind DP," double penetration.

"Great! How about a threesome with one of your girlfriends?"

"A double lap dance is 60 yuan. Anything more..." She smiled. "Can be negotiated."

'Too fucking smart for our own good.' Falk noticed Shep's left hand reach for a Springfield Armory Long Slide 1911-A1 semiautomatic pistol. "Don't bother trying to rob this place. See that lump on the chick's right boot? She's packing-- looks like a GLOCK 45K compact," he whispered in Ferengi.

'No, I was thinking of robbing you so I can get a threesome with this chick and her girlfriend.' Shep didn't say. "You got a better idea to make money?"

"The Gonghe military is offering a shitload for the capture of a FUCKUP assault cruiser," the pornographers turned to see Fanboy's fingers make quotation marks, "that entered Gonghe space while you were shitting your pants at the sight of the Public Security Ministry's MS-9Ps."

"We saw MA-8Ps," Shep corrected. "How'd you find us?"

Fanboy tapped his helmet-mounted olfactory sensor. "I can 'smell' that lube you use."

"Anyways, why ain't the Gung-Ho military themselves chasing that commie cruiser?" Falk added.

"The Defense Ministry gives its planetary garrisons orbital defense stations slash munitions factories," the defense stations' secondary purpose, "not warships-- they think it's cheaper to hire mercenaries to chase escaped criminals instead," Fanboy explained. "Are you in or out?"

"How much money are we talking about?" Falk demanded. The mercenary handed him a PADD displaying the data. "Looks... tempting."

Shep whistled-- he didn't bother hiding his interest. "That'll get me a lot of lap dances."

Fanboy smiled. 'Suckers.'


20 minutes later, the Skullfucker was parked in the hangar of the Asskicker, the pornographers' D7-2 class battlecruiser. Falk was trying-- and failing-- to defeat the Skullfucker's security systems so he could board the ship and steal the latinum stored aboard, while Candy was giving Shep a lap dance in the Asskicker's bridge.

Fanboy took advantage of these distractions to steal sixpacks of German beer and boxes of Cuban cigars from Falk's room, and boxes of 12.7 x 32.6 mm (.50 Action Express) and 11.43 x 23 mm (.45 ACP) rounds from Shep's room. "A Spetsnaz," Russian Special Forces, "knife with a spring-loaded blade! Sweet!" He reached for the knife-- then the ship shook, throwing the knife off Shep's sock drawer and under the bed. "What the...?"

"Fuck!" In the bridge, Shep pushed and pulled the manual steering column to evade the phaser beams and photon torpedoes reaching for Asskicker.

"Now?" Candy asked, pulling up her miniskirt.

Shep smiled at the sexaroid's words. "In ten minutes." He turned to Nog, the Asskicker's tactical officer. "Arm the--" He watched a dagger-like assault shuttle thrust itself into the Asskicker's bridge before knocking down the captain's seat. "Ahhhh!"

Tom led 12 marines and engineers out of the shuttle. 'I never thought I'd be grateful to those inbred Kazon for giving me this idea.' He watched Nog, trapped under the collapsed tactical console, struggle to draw a Long Slide 1911-A1. "Put 'em up, Ferengi scum."

"Racist... douche bag," Nog cursed. "I'll be... filing... a formal... complaint..."

Tom shot the former Starfleet officer. "Motherfucker!" He reset his pulse phaser rifle from STUN to KILL, and targeted Nog's head.

"Wait." Lt Kayla the Ring Warrior, the Voyager's security chief, put her hand on Tom's shoulder. "We need the command codes. I request permission to retrieve the Ferengi prisoner for interrogation."

Tom frowned, knowing the Klingon-human hybrid's preferred method of interrogation. "Make it so." He approached the engineering console. "Long Knife to Voyager, the D7's bridge is secure. We are dropping shields."

"Voyager to Long Knife, we verify dropping of the D7's shields. We are beaming in assault teams."


Fanboy marched down the hallway, gripping an AK104 assault rifle with a M203 grenade launcher mounted under the barrel. He heard humming behind him, and turned to see a marine's lower body energize into the ceiling. "Damn, piece of shit Starfleet transporters," the mercenary cursed as shit flowed down the dying marine's pants, onto the floor. Three more marines energized into the hallway. "Shit."

A marine corporal raised his rifle to target Fanboy. "Freeze!" The mercenary's steel-toed boot flashed in front of his eyes. The corporal cried in pain as the kick knocked the phaser emitter under his chin, caused the rifle to fire, and killed him.

"Cooper! Noooo!" Phaser bolts cut a line towards Fanboy as the next target, a marine private, adjusted his aim-- then three bullets hit his head, killing him.

"Damn, piece of shit Starfleet marines. You ain't worth the bullets I put in you," Fanboy cursed. 7.62 x 39 mm rounds were available for modest fees at every replicator in Gonghe space, but these replicators molecularly "stamped" serial numbers on all weapons and ammunition-- Fanboy had to buy ammo from Orion smugglers to avoid leaving a trail for criminal investigators.

The third marine, whose upper body energized into the floor, vomited chunks of liver tissue. He didn't react as Fanboy kicked the rifle out of his hands, and died as the mercenary resumed marching.


"Voyager to Long Knife, we're experiencing technical difficulties."

Tom frowned. "Explain."

"Delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol particles are interfering with the transportation beams."

"Delta-9--" Then Tom remembered tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) was the main psychoactive substance in marijuana. "You mean our transporters won't work because they're getting stoned?!"

"Affirmative, Long Knife. We confirm 11 marines died when they rematerialized within the D7's bulkheads. Four died when they rematerialized in the vacuum of space."

'Shit!' Tom turned to the engineers now repairing the consoles to restore control. "Chief, can the climate control system purge the ship of THC to restore transporter function?"

"Affirmative, Sir." The chief engineer pushed a button, only to see the words "SIEGE MODE" on the console. "Negative. Someone just locked the controls. Based on my knowledge of Soong Network Security, a scan of the user's DNA and voiceprint-- likely a senior officer's-- is now required to unlock the controls."

'Damn.' Tom turned to the marines who were successfully transported aboard the Asskicker's bridge. "First Squad, follow me. We're going headhunting." He led the marines to a Jefferies tube.

"Why don't we take a turbolift?" a marine asked.

"Because turbolifts can be booby trapped to launch itself at speeds beyond the inertial dampeners' limits, killing everyone inside, dumbass," Tom answered.

The marine began crying. "I'm not dumb, you big meanie!" He ran into the assault shuttle, tears flowing down his cheeks. "Wahhhh!"

"Sigh." Tom threw a photon grenade at the hatch to open it, triggering a booby trap (a M18A8 Claymore antipersonnel mine) defending the Jefferies tube. 'That was close!' "Sergeant Seppuku, take the point. Keep an eye open for booby traps."

'Motherfucker,' the marine didn't say as he climbed down the tube.


Whoosh! The armory door opened to let Fanboy see a red dot-- a laser sight.

"Master!" The GLOCK 45K semiautomatic pistol retracted into a hidden compartment in Candy's forearm. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"I am okay, Master."

Fanboy glanced at the unconscious Shep, who Candy carried out of the bridge. "What happened to him?"

"A panel of transparent aluminum was knocked off the viewscreen when a Raptor class assault shuttle with a reinforced prow, possibly for ramming, crashed into the bridge. The panel struck Mister Sheppard's right temple, knocking him unconscious. I treated him for..."

Fanboy approached a replicator. "Whiskey, straight up." 'A bottle. The pornographers sure like their alcohol.' The mercenary took the bottle from the replicator, slammed the cap against a table to open it, and poured whiskey onto Shep's face.

"Ah! Gurgle! Argh! Motherfucker!" Shep drew his pistol as he awoke.

"I'm glad you're okay." Fanboy poured the rest of the whiskey down his own throat. "Ah! That hit the spot!"

Shep lowered his pistol when he recognized the mercenary. "What the fuck just happened?!"

"A Raptor class assault shuttle with a reinforced prow, possibly for ramming, crashed into the bridge. I evacuated you to the armory and treated you for..." Candy noted the injuries Shep received during the attack.

Shep noticed the armory's first aid kit was open. "Thanks, Candy. Would you mind telling me how you got in here?" He turned to the mercenary. "You too. I spent a fortune on that lock."

Fanboy smiled. "That's a trade secret." He acquired his "lock picks" in a more technologically advanced galaxy. "Anyways, you got a Starfleet marine infestation," the mercenary stated, not distinguishing Starfleet marines from those serving in the FUCKUP Marine Corps. "You need to call in an exterminator: me."

Shep unlocked a gun cabinet to retrieve a MG3 machine gun, a M79 grenade launcher, and ammo for both weapons. "I can deal with Starfleet marines just fine. Did you capture any prisoners?"

"Shit!" Fanboy slammed a fist against his helmet. "I forgot about the bonus they're offering for POWs!"

Shep shrugged. "Whatever. Let's find Falk and go earn that bonus."


Falk cursed Fanboy and the mercenary's extra-galactic ship as he crawled through a Jefferies tube, towards the bridge. At every junction, he waved his left hand so the wristwatch's integral identification friend or foe (IFF) transmitter would disarm the Claymore there. Boom! 'A malfunction?'

"Sarge! Noooo!"

"Corporal Fodder, take the point."


"Take the point."

"Y-y-y-yes, S-s-sir!" The corporal's tone suggested he was staring at a phaser emitter.

'Shit!' Falk crawled backwards, towards a hatch. 'Baby, don't fail me now.' The IFF transmitter didn't fail him, but the hatch did-- it came loose under Falk's weight, dumping him into a hallway below. "Argh! Piece of shit hatch! A fine example of Klingon workmanship there!"


The pornographer looked up to see his business partner, Fanboy, and Candy. "Shep." Falk rose to his feet. "Would you mind telling me who the fuck is crawling through the Jefferies tubes and setting off the booby traps there?"

"Starfleet marines."

"Shit," Falk whispered. He pointed at the tube overhead. "They're coming this way." Candy's leg suddenly flashed in front of him. "What the...?" He stared at the sexaroid's extended leg-- then he noticed the grenade on top of her high-heeled boot. "Fuck!"

Candy somersaulted backwards, throwing the grenade back into the Jefferies tube. "Please take cover." She laid on top of Fanboy as the grenade exploded.

Shep brushed off the debris that rained down from the Jefferies tube. "Think we got them all?" Then another explosion blasted a hole in the ceiling, sending a marine into the hallway.

"Fuck, no!" Fanboy fired a burst into the marine's back before he realized the man was already dead, likely killed by the grenade that Candy threw back. The mercenary turned to see Tom's arms reach through the hole and fire a pulse phaser rifle in his direction. "Motherfucker!"

Phaser beams and bullets filled the hallway as Fanboy and Candy returned fire. Tom felt a sharp pain in his arms as three bullets hit the rifle, triggering an alarm. "Shit!" The FUCKUP officer dropped the rifle and rolled away from the hole.

Falk and Shep, recognizing the alarm for an overloading phaser, echoed Tom's expletive. "Move, motherfuckers!" Falk opened a door and dove into the room, followed by Shep, Fanboy, and Candy-- flames singed the sexaroid's high-heels as the pulse phaser rifle exploded.


Consciousness slowly returned to the men in the Jefferies tube. "Ow!" "Shit!" "Son of a bitch!"

Tom massaged his head, feeling his electronic earplugs move within the ear canals. "Report!"

"My ears!" "I can't hear you!" "Speak louder!"

"Piece of shit!" Tom drew his pistol. "Lance Corporal--" He realized out of First Squad's 13 men, there were only three survivors. "Hail Kayla, have the bitch send reinforcements to our position."

"What did you say?!" "I think I'm deaf-- I mean, hearing-impaired!" "Speak louder, damn it!"



"I'll personally deliver the punishment these terrorists deserve," Kayla transmitted before turning to the marines in the bridge. "Second Squad, follow me. Bring the Ferengi scum with us-- he'll be the first to die if we encounter any booby traps."

"But that would violate his constitutional rights--"

Kayla's rifle targeted the politically correct marine's head. "Bring the Ferengi."

Piss flowed down the marine's pants. "Yes, Ma'am."


Nog awoke to see the words "FRONT TOWARD ENEMY" (markings on a Claymore) in front of him. "Yaaaa!" Silence answered his cry.

"It's a dud! We're saved!" said the marine using the Ferengi to probe for mines.

Nog's head turned to see two arms holding his shoulders, keeping his body off the floor. "Who the fuck are you?!" He writhed in his restraints, trying to escape.

"Be silent, or I'll amputate your arms and legs!" Kayla hissed. "You won't need them for this mission."

"Yes, I do!" Nog pleaded. "I need my arms-- and legs-- to disarm the booby traps here!" He glanced at the Claymore. "That's no dud! The mine is just interrogating me for an IFF signal!"

"Where's the transmitter?" Kayla demanded.

"It scans the user's DNA-- I'm the only one who can use this one," Nog explained to buy time.

"The captain has a similar transmitter, am I correct?"

"Of course."

Kayla smiled, baring her sharp teeth and making Nog very nervous. "Perfect."


"You're proposing that we emulate the interrogation signal, transmit it throughout the ship, and find the senior officers' location by scanning for the IFF signal?" Tom asked.

"We'll hunt them like wild targs," Kayla swore.

"Have the Chief implement it immediately." Tom smiled and turned to the marines. "We're returning to the bridge."

"Hooray!" A marine turned to open the hatch behind him, eager to escape from the hell that was the Asskicker's Jefferies tubes.

"No!" Click! Tom's warning came to late-- the FUCKUP officer could only take cover as another Claymore exploded, killing three eager marines.


Falk, Shep, Fanboy, and Candy quietly walked down the hallway, towards the bridge. "What's the plan?" the mercenary whispered.

"We throw a couple of flashbangs into the bridge, wait for the flashbangs to blow, and burst in to shoot anyone wearing a Starfleet uniform," Shep whispered back.

"Works for me." Fanboy glanced at the ceiling. "Think the marines will play nice and stay in the Jefferies tubes?"

"I hope so," Falk whispered. 'Damn. Replacing all those Claymores is gonna cost a shitload.' He noticed a green light flash on his wristwatch-- it was transmitting. 'What the fuck?'

This irregularity didn't escape Shep's notice. "What's wrong with the interrogators?" He heard footsteps, and opened a door. "Move!"

Staff Sergeant Kamin led Third Squad down the hallway, his tricorder transmitting the interrogation signal and scanning for the IFF signal. Although he saw no one else in the hallway, the tricorder indicated two targets were nearby. "Set phasers to stun. Fire on my command." The non-commissioned officer (NCO) turned to the door. "You cannot hide! Surrender now and you will not be harmed!"

Behind the door, the pornographers were arguing with each other. "They must be tracing the IFF signal! We got to get rid of the watches!" Shep whispered.

"And get killed by our own booby traps? Hell no." Falk was putting boxes of dildos and vibrators in front of the door to barricade it. "A little help here?" he hissed to his business partner.

Fanboy was staring at a box of pink pills. "What are these?"

"Ecstasy," 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine. "We use it to get girls in the mood." The room was one of 12 sets for pornographic films aboard the Asskicker.

Fanboy smiled. "Gimme some and I'll take care of that marine squad outside the door."

"Are you kidding?" the pornographers exclaimed.

The mercenary was already downing pills by the handful. "No. Now get out of my way."

Kamin watched the door open to reveal a man gripping a knife and an antique rifle. "Halt! Put down your weapons and raise your hands over your head!" Whoosh! The NCO felt a sharp pain in his knees, fell on his back, and found himself staring at his amputated legs. "Ahhhh!" Going into shock, Kamin didn't hear the sounds of gunfire echo in the hallway.

Methamphetamines such as ecstasy were a psychostimulants, enhancing locomotor activity. Fanboy exploited its affects to the fullest, running at superhuman speeds to dismember, disembowel, and decapitate the marines while dodging their phaser beams. "Die, motherfuckers, die!" He shoved the AK104 muzzle down a marine's throat, squeezed the trigger, and watched the marine's head explode. "Die!" The mercenary spun, scanning for the next target, only to find himself surrounded by dead and dying men. "Hey! I'm still pumped up!"

"Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze!"

Fanboy turned to the hyperventilating Kamin, squeezed the trigger on the knife handle, and shouted, "Candy! Get me off!"

"Yes, Master." The sexaroid exited the room, moved Fanboy's groin protector out of the way, and began sucking his penis.

The pornographers exited the room to find the floor, walls, and ceiling covered with blood. "Oh my God..." Falk whispered. "What the...? Hey! That's my Spetsnaz knife!" Shep shouted, reaching for the blade embedded in the NCO's head.

Meanwhile, Fanboy ignored the death and destruction around him, as his penis hammered Candy's self-lubricating pussy. "Ah, ah, ahhhh!" He came, and then turned the sexaroid around. "One more time! Ah, ah, ah, ah, ahhhh!"


Tom sat in the bridge, downing aspirin by the handful. 'I'm glad B'Elanna and Miral are on Qo'noS, not aboard a piece of shit battlecruiser,' he thought of his wife and child. "You say your boss is the only one who can unlock the controls now?"


Tom looked through the broken viewscreen to see the Voyager towing the Asskicker through Gonghe space. "Like the view?"

"The business end of a WANK cruiser looks better to me now."

"Find your boss and have them unlock the controls, or you'll be enjoying the view from the vacuum of space."

Nog gulped. "Yes, Sir."


Fanboy downed bottles of beer as he walked, fighting dehydration and hyperthermia, two side effects of ecstasy. Shep didn't complain about the fact that Fanboy was downing his beer-- the mercenary must be alive to be useful against Starfleet marines.

Whine! "Uh, Boss, this is Nog. I've been captured by FUCKUP marines. The commander--"

"Captain!" Tom's voice boomed through the intercom.

"The captain wants you to come to the bridge and terminate Siege Mode, or he'll blast the ship into subatomic particles," Nog finished.

"Shit! What do we do now?" Shep asked.

Falk shrugged. "We might as well go and find out why FUCKUP captured the Asskicker in the first place."


Kayla snarled at the three men and one woman who appeared in the doorway. "Halt! Put down your weapons and raise your hands over your heads." She watched Falk, Shep, and Fanboy comply. "You sent 13 of my warriors to Gre'thor, and 13 to Sto-Vo-Kor. I congratulate the ingenuity you applied to your booby traps, and," her rifle targeted the man in Mandalorian battle armor, who she assumed was the captain, "will now reward you for your ingenuity."

Fanboy stared at the phaser emitter. "With a pulse phaser rifle? Where's your bat'leth?" He laughed. "You have no honor. The Fek'lhr shall jab you with knives and spears for all eternity."

"How dare you?!" Kayla began squeezing the trigger.

"Hold your fire!" Tom ordered. "We need him to unlock the controls!"

Kayla reluctantly complied. "Obey or die."

"Why do you need this piece of shit battlecruiser, anyways?" Fanboy asked.

"Left knee, shoot," Tom ordered.

Beam! Fanboy kneeled as the phaser beam scorched the left kneepad.

"Master!" Candy ran towards the mercenary, stopping when Fanboy held his hand in front of her.

"You sexist pig!" Kayla targeted the mercenary's head.

"Are you gonna comply, or do we have to burn off your skin, square centimeter by square centimeter?" Tom threatened.

"I'll unlock the controls." Shep winked at Falk to assure his business partner.

"Good boy."

"Computer, terminate Siege Mode. Authorization Shep, Little Boy in Hiroshima."

"Siege Mode terminated," the computer reported. Then the Asskicker fired two torpedoes, hitting the Voyager's stern and disabling the tractor beam emitter there.

"What?!" Tom targeted Shep. Fanboy's kneepad emitted a puff of smoke, distracting him-- the FUCKUP officer felt a sting, looked down, and saw a rocket dart stuck in his chest. "Son of a..." The dart injected a tranquilizer into Tom-- the pistol fell from his hand as he fell unconscious.

Falk grabbed Shep's MG3 as Fanboy grabbed his AK104, while Candy deployed her GLOCK 45Ks-- they began shooting at the FUCKUP marines and engineers in the bridge.

"I'll shove my bat'leth up your ass!" Kayla shot Fanboy, but the beam only scorched the paint on the mercenary's breastplate-- then Fanboy and Candy simultaneously shot the hybrid's head, killing her.

Falk watched Shep's hands dance on the controls as the Asskicker turned 180 degrees and accelerated away from the Voyager. "What now?"

"Now we get the hell out of dodge!" Shep answered.

Fanboy turned to the pornographer. "But the reward--"

"We cannot take it with us!" Shep replied.

"No arguments from me," Falk added.


Aboard the Voyager, the XO ordered, "Maximum warp. We must rescue Comrade Paris!" Stars raced towards the explorer as it accelerated.

"Sir, what does a Liger class command ship look like?" the new helmsman asked of a dreadnought jointly developed by the Starfleet and the Gonghe Navy.

"The configuration of a Liger class command ship, which exists only as a wooden mockup, is irrelevant to this mission."

"Can a wooden mockup travel at Warp 9.98?" the helmsman added, pointing at the viewscreen's upper left corner.

The XO looked up to see the 700-meter-long dreadnought, resembling a .44 Magnum revolver with four warp nacelles mounted on the grip, dive towards the Voyager. "Shit!"

"USS Liger to unidentified vessels, you are in restricted space," near the shipyard where the Liger and its Gonghe counterpart, the GGV Shiwang, were constructed. "Shutdown your engines and lower your shields, or we will open fire," Commodore Global War On Terror Rice IX ordered as the dreadnought's triple-gun turrets traversed to target the approaching ships.

The pornographers, realizing they were outgunned, complied with the Starfleet officer's orders. The Voyager XO, believing the explorer's 25th century technology gave them a tactical advantage, ordered the ablative hull armor's deployment-- then he remembered the armor-forming nano-machines were expended in their escape from the Gonghe Navy patrol. "Shit!"

Boom, boom, boom, boom! The Liger's medium PENIS cannons hammered the Voyager's warp nacelles and impulse engines, crippling the explorer. The Voyager was able to fire two transphasic torpedoes at the dreadnought, whose Hedgehog mini-torpedo volley systems intercepted the torpedoes-- then the bridge was targeted, and it was "GAME OVER" for the explorer.


Starfleet marines spent two hours aboard both ships, searching for evidence that a terror attack was planned. To avoid such charges, the pornographers claimed Fanboy, a licensed mercenary authorized to own heavy weapons, was the Asskicker's owner.

Tom "sang like a bird" to the Gonghe Military Intelligence Service, explaining his plan: program the Asskicker's computer to launch a kamikaze attack against the shipyard, allowing the Voyager to escape after her mission was completed.

Falk, Shep, and Fanboy split the reward for the FUCKUP officer's capture, but Cdre Rice received the reward for the Voyager's capture.


In the Asskicker's bridge, a bored Fanboy sat in front of Candy, holding a wireless controller for the video game console in her "womb." On the sexaroid's abdomen, a panel was opened to reveal a monitor and let the mercenary play his favorite game, 'Grand Theft Auto: Vice City'.

Shep and Nog exited the Jefferies tube. "There-- all the Claymores have been replaced. The Asskicker is secure again," Shep reported.

Falk turned to Fanboy. "I hope you're happy. Thanks to those piece of shit FUCKUP marines, we're left with beer money, not 'invest in real estate' money."

"Chill, Falk. I know how to earn more money," the mercenary assured.

"How? By blowing up the Asskicker for insurance money? By shooting each other for insurance money? I ain't risking my ship--"

"My ship," Shep interrupted.

"Or my ass on another one of your dumbass schemes."

Fanboy smiled. "You know the Gonghe government imposes double taxes on the sale of recreational drugs, right? Well, some people would rather pay a smuggler's fee than the double taxes, and buy 'illegal' drugs. I know how these smugglers think. If we track them down, we can load their cargo onto the Asskicker, hand over the smugglers to Gonghe cops for a reward--"

"What are we gonna do with the 'illegal' drugs?"

"We head down to Risa and sell the drugs. The Risans love recreational drugs."

"Great idea!" Shep commented.

Falk shrugged. "I guess it's worth a try."


The Asskicker spent two weeks hunting for smugglers-- during this time, Fanboy was constantly high on confiscated drugs. Nonetheless, the mercenary and the pornographers still earned enough "invest in real estate" money to part on friendly terms.


Not the End

Gun Shou, or Gun Sau, is a martial art inspired by a fight scene in the 2002 film 'Equilibrium'. The term combines the English word "gun" with the Chinese word for "hand." According to www.gunkata.freeservers.com, "Gun Sau is a freestyle combat game using safe 'handguns' in the trapping range. Parries, sweeps, locks, disarms, and retentions are all part of the art."

If anyone's curious, Shiwang means, "Lion King."

Haruka and Setsuna are named after characters created by Takeuchi Naoko. Candy is named after a character created by Rockstar Games.

The MA-8 is based on the TMF/A-802 BuCUE mobile suit from 'Mobile Suit Gundam SEED'-- created by Sunrise.
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.

Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.

They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)

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Post by Lonestar » 2007-08-13 07:10pm

UPF Interlude

"Only One Man would Dare to give me the Raspberry!"

Yenchin sat drinking his Singapore Sling on the front porch of his country home on Delirium 4. Retired life was treating him well, even if he had had to move to the edge of civilization. You see, Yenchin had once been the Porn King of Tellerite-on-Vulcan sex.

For decades his studios had produced only the finest of pornographic movies for the coveted Vulcan Porn market. He had been wealthy. Powerful. A man of Influence. The only problem was the protection taxes he ahd had to pay, but now that was someone else's problem.

Over a year ago he and been approached by two men to sell his shares, and they had offered a rather tidy sum for it. Seeing as the "Taxman" hadn't came by in years and feeling old age creeping up on him, he did what any Porn Magnate would do. Cashed in his chips, bought a few Orion sex slaves , and retired to the country. He found the life of Gentleman Planter/Manwhore/elder statesmen to be enjoyable. He had worried he would get bored, but when you had immense wealth and 20 Orion Slave Girls it was amzing what you could do for entertainment.

Yenchin frowned. Some movement on the treeline caught his eye. Damn, I hope I don't have another bugger-bear infestation. He had given some thought to marketing on some of the more narrow demographics, but had never came to a real decision one way or another. He saw more movement, and the shape briefly reminded him of...


Oh shit. He patched into his access to the planetary sensor grid. "Computer? Has there been any unusual orbital activity?"

"One Steamrunner-class light cruiser entered orbit 3 hours ago." The computer respnded cheerfully. "Approximately two hours ago, several shuttle craft exited the vessel and landed in multiple locations near Yenchin Manor."

Oh, Fuck me. "Computer, priority one message to Captain Reynolds, codeword: Yellabelly. Send!"

"Workin..." There was a screeching sound as the outside console was hit by .50 sniper fire. A couple dozen men in BDUs, all armed with slugthrowers, advanced towards the house. Yenchin briefly considered running inside, or reaching for his hand phaser. Then decided on raising his hands. There was a yell from inside the house, then phaser fire, then the distinctive clatter of a M60. Sweated beaded on his forehead as he heard heavy footsteps walk up behind him. He heard the screen door open and slowly turned.

"Guh, Gunny Rhainsford."

Rhainsford nodded, apperently oblivious to the sounds of minor shooting going on between Yenchin's staff and the squad that had came in through the back.

"Yenchin. Boss will be wanting a word with you."

Yenchin turned back out at the men walking up to the Porch. He recognized the two other leaders.

"Stile. Mingo."

Mingo nodded gravely while Stile grinned.

"You're in the shit now!"

And with that, there was a thunderous roar as an Aeroshuttle blasted overhead, made a wide turn, and landed in the ricecorn field. Stenciled on the side was the name, Brazos. The Port door opened, and out stepped Agent Lone Starr of Section 31.


Lone Starr walked briskly up to Yenchin. Before Yenchin could say anything he pulled out his .45 and shot him in the right kneecap.

"Where's my money man? Where's my fucking money???"

"I...I...in the...the basement. Code Sade Orgy Jeremy."

Starr nodded at Rhainsford he stepped away, his heavy boots clomping into the house.

"Yenchin, I go off, I help defend the Federation, and what do you do? You disappear. Without paying your taxes. Not only that, the known studios you own are either gone or deserted. Your secret ones remain...secret. I thought you were a Patriot?"

Yenchin sobbed. "I...I sold my shares...I didn't think it would be a problem!"

"You didn't think it a problem? And you run off? I think you're lying." With a flick of his wrist an aluminum baton appeared in Starr's right hand, he swung down on Yenchin's right knee. "Who'd you sell it to?"

"Two men...Frankie and Seppo."

Stile laughed manically. Starr glared at him.

"Frankie and Seppo? You Piece of shit. You betray me? Your country? Your business partner? Should I let you live after the treason you've committed? Is it all there, Gunny?" Starr asked as Rhainsford walked up. He shook his head.

"Well, I guess you're shit out of luck." BLAM!


Proud and majestic, the Eagle, CL-5, orbited Delirium 4. Agent Lone Starr had ordered everything not bolted down taken up as loot. For many, many years Section 31 had augmented it's revenue with "protection taxes" to the adult entertainment industry, and Yenchin had had to be made an example of. Just because S-31 was too busy at the moment didn't mean they wouldn't find and get you.

"Sheppard and Falkenhorst?" His XO, Agent Publius asked.

"Almost certainly. Damn, I haven't seen those retards in years. I wonder where they are?"

"Zeon," Publius began, "would be the logical starting point."

"I'd rather not deal with those carpetmunchers without a properly outfitted taskforce." Section 31 diverted substandard components to Starfleet, so that if a S-31 ship had to come into conflict with a Starfleet vessel it would explode in a rather spectacular fashion. Before the start of major hostilities with other powers, Starfleet vessels were cycled through "routine maintenance" so the bad parts were replaced. Then when the war was over the parts were swapped out again.

Incredibly, it seemed as if no one in Starfleet realized this.

"Sir! Sir. Sir. Sir." The Electronic Warfare Officer, LTJG Sarina Douglas said. "There is a vessel incoming. Hasn't detected us. Almost certainly the Centaur. Yes. Yes it is. Mmhmm."

Starr sighed. It had seemed like such a good idea to bring the Augment onboard, but she had gradually gone more and more crazy in the EWO position. She was rapidly turning into as big a debacle as that genetic waste Bashir.

"Captain Reynolds. That pigfucker." Publius said in a conversational tones. Starr nodded. Made sense that Yenchin would have a Tellerite lover in his pocket.

"Sir. SIR. Sir. Being hailed."

There was a cackle.

"Unknown vessel, you are ordered to stand down. This is the Federation starship Centaur. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded."

"Corry, blow it up. Make sure you aim for the warp core." A volley of Quantum Torpedoes exited the Eagle, slamming through the thin hide of the Centaur and initiating a warpcore overload. The vessel exploded.

"Well! XO, I think it's time for a trip down memory lane, don't you?"


"The rifle itself has no moral stature, since it has no will of its own. Naturally, it may be used by evil men for evil purposes, but there are more good men than evil, and while the latter cannot be persuaded to the path of righteousness by propaganda, they can certainly be corrected by good men with rifles."

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Post by Lonestar » 2007-08-15 07:52pm


Mama Mama Can't you See

As the Eagle(CL-5) traveled towards it's ultimate destination, it's crew maintained the professionalism and decorum expected of heirs of a several-hundred year naval tradition. The ship was maintained. Petty Offices stood watched. Resources inventoried. The entire collection of the Buttman pictorial magazine was re-replicated, as the previous copies had to be recycled due to enough jism to keep Zeon good to go for a year.

Agent Lone Starr of Section 31, revenue collector, Commanding Officer of the Eagle glanced down at the daily operations summary. Under "Chief Engineer's Notes", the CHENG had scrawled "CHRIST I WANT C0CK". Looks like LCDR Ender has been using waste for toast jam again. Ender insisted that the "special blend" that came out of the radioactive waste extraction unit made him more virile than mere mortals. What it really did was give him really, really bad trips.

Beyond the off-color comment everything seemed to be in order. Starr pressed his thumb down on the PADD, and returned it to Petty Officer Setzer.

"Thank you Mr. Setzer. That will be all."

Setzer stood there at Parade Rest, looking as if he wanted to say something, but was unsure of the wisdom of doing so.


"Sir, I..."

"Go ahead, what's eating you?"

"On the bridge, when we blew up the Centaur...you seemed anxious to go after our next targets. Like it was personal."

Starr took off his glasses and stared at Setzer, his thoughts suddenly far away...


"IIIINNNNNNNCCCCOOOOMMMIINNGGGG!!!" CPL Shultz shouted as the fireteam crowded behind the wreck of a truck. The mortars whistled down and, thankfully, missed the fireteam. SGT Starr hefted PFC Johnston by his armor vest. The man was in a fetal position sobbing.

"Those assholes are in the building spotting us! I need you to get your ass in gear!" Starr peeked around the wreck and moved his head back behind. "He's in the Northwest window, about 4 floors up. We'll over you. Go!" The fireteam stood up and fired their HK416s at the rebels in the building. Johnston lifted his Wallbreacher rocket launcher, pointed it at the window and fired. The Rocket screamed down the street, and glanced the corner. There was a satisfying explosion, but the rebels were still moving around.

"You missed! How could you fucking Miss? It's a guided missile!"

"I'm sorry Sarge!" Johnston sobbed. "I'll try to do better!" A stray phaser shot hit the harness with another 4 rocket rounds or so in it. There was a hissing sound as burning propellant leaked out.

"Everyone on the otherside of the truck!"

The fireteam ran around, and Johnston followed, with the harness still on.

"What are you doing? Take it off!"

"I...I can't!" He was trying to yank it off, but was having a spazz-attack. In an instant Starr pulled out his .45 and blew Johnston's brains out.

"The other side!"

The fireteam ran back to the original side of the wrecked truck. The rockets went off. Why am I here? Why am I doing this fighting? Militia are suppose to just defend the planet, not do Starfleet's dirty work...but Starfleet was filled with Heroes, and heroes didn't fight their way through cities of people who just wanted to be left alone...

Fortunately, the Truck took most of the blast. Unfortunately, they were pinned with nowhere to go. CPL Shultz looked at Starr and grinned. "I think we're pretty fucked!"

Almost as if on cue, there was a screeching of tires and another armored truck came around the bend. Manning the 40mm Auto-grenade launcher was a madman. "DIE! DIE! DIE!" he yelled putting round after round into the building. Most of the fire went silent, and unordered, Starr's fireteam started picking off rebels still moving. Soon, the building was completely dead. The Man stopped firing and turned to Starr. Starr smiled.

"Hooollleeee shit! Look at what the cat dragged in! I appreciate the help!"

"Looks like you numbnuts needed it." SGT Sheppard, head of a Fireteam from Dog Company nodded. "We'd be here sooner but Falkenhorts drives like a woman."

"Fuck you, Sarge!"

Starr grinned. "Let's see what there is to find, shall we?"

The two fireteams entered the building, but except for one room with one rebel in it, most all were dead. Starr noted that all the replicators were destroyed. Finally making it to the basement, they found a locked door. It was easy to open. And what they found...

..Was a virtual cornucopias of pornography.

"Contraband!" Starr said. "I better call this in." Before his hand could reach the radio Shep's slapped it out fo the way.

"Let's not be hasty! We have here a Golden opportunity!"

"What do you mean? We're suppose to report all contraband Shep."

"So? Listen, me and Falkenhorst know a guy. We can make some bank out of this. No one has to know. We'll be more than glad to cut you in on it."

Starr suddenly realized that Falkenhorst had a silencer on his sidearm. And he was the only one in his fireteam here. Shep was holding a handphaser.

"Wait a minute..." Starr unbuttoned his holster and....


"He stunned you?" Petty Officer Setzer said in amazement.

Starr nodded. "We were war buddies. I thought we were fighting for the same thing, doing our duty even when Starfleet wouldn't. And he betrayed me. We've crossed paths a few times since then."

"And this is the last straw. I aim to bring them in."
"The rifle itself has no moral stature, since it has no will of its own. Naturally, it may be used by evil men for evil purposes, but there are more good men than evil, and while the latter cannot be persuaded to the path of righteousness by propaganda, they can certainly be corrected by good men with rifles."

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Post by Sidewinder » 2007-08-17 06:49pm

The year 2375 of the Common Era (CE). As the Dominion War ravaged the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, hundreds of starships, sent on vital missions, sought battle as they sailed through space. One of these ships was the USS Alaska, a Defiant class escort.

As the Alaska approached Gongye III, the Gonghe Republic's executive capital-- the legislative capital was in another star system, preventing a decapitation strike from paralyzing the entire government-- a Federation class dreadnought and a F-7 Viper fighter squadron appeared onscreen.

The dreadnought was modified under the Warrior Armament, Naval Kind (WANK) and the Phaser Enhancement, Nuclear Isotope Surge (PENIS) Projects-- reactive armor plates enveloped the ship like petals on a rosebud. The hangar deck was extended, the bow and stern doors allowing it to simultaneously launch and recover fighters. A heavy PENIS cannon, with its own matter/antimatter reaction assembly powering it, replaced the now redundant navigational deflector. Six medium PENIS cannons in twin-gun turrets-- one on the saucer section's topside, one on the saucer and one on the stardrive sections' undersides-- traversed to target the approaching starships, triggering a red alert.

"Sir, we're being interrogated, I confirm the Alaska is transmitting the IFF," identification friend or foe, "code. Sir, we're being hailed," the Alaska's communications officer reported.

"Onscreen." Captain Global War On Terror Rice IX, the Alaska's captain, turned to see a hologram of the dreadnought's captain.

"GGV Qin to Federation vessel, welcome to the Gonghe Republic. What is your mission?"

"USS Alaska to the GGV Qin, greetings from the Federation," Capt Rice stated. "Our inventory of photon torpedoes does not meet our operational needs, and we request permission to rearm at one of your defense stations," a code signaling the need to gather military intelligence.

"Roger. The Gonghe garrison is launching fighters to escort you," the dreadnought's captain answered. Red alert was deactivated-- the escort was no longer targeted.

"Incoming, eight F-7 fighters, bearing ten o'clock high," Lieutenant Trigga'Happi, the Alaska's tactical officer, reported.

"Viper Flight GY3-001-1-1, First To Fight, to the USS Alaska. We are transmitting navigational data to you now. Do not deviate from the flight plan, or we will blast you into subatomic particles," a fighter pilot warned.

"Alaska to the First To Fight, wilco," will comply.


Aboard the GY3-001, one of 450 orbital defense stations defending Gongye III, Gonghe soldiers returned Capt Rice's Colt, Smith and Wesson B-29 revolvers after searching the Starfleet officer. "You may enter."

Capt Rice holstered his revolvers. "Thank you." The armored doors opened to let him enter the command center. "Good morning, Old Li."

Colonel Long Li, a Gonghe Army intelligence officer, greeted, "Good morning, Global. How may I help you?"

"The Alaska's mission is to explore the Chirk star system, near the Federation-Breen border."

"Reconnaissance. Is your ship equipped with a cloaking device?"

Capt Rice smiled. "The Treaty of Algeron prohibits Starfleet from equipping our vessels with cloaking devices."

'It is.' Col Li returned the smile-- he respected Capt Rice's determination to complete the mission at all costs. "Of course." He pressed a button to display a holographic map of the Breen Confederacy, with green symbols representing Breen military units. "This is the most recent data we have on the Breen defenses at the border. Note the minefields' positions..."


Across the border, Thot Terl stared a holographic map of the Gonghe Republic. 'I will bring an end to 108 years of humiliation,' the humiliation of suffering the Gonghe Republic's existence. The Breen officer studied all available reports on the Gonghe Republic in preparation for his mission. He knew the planets were colonized by Chinese People's Liberation Army (PLA) super soldiers, genetically engineered to fight Augments during the Eugenics Wars, and German engineers hired to design the colony ships-- the alliance was called the Gongye Hezuo Zuzhi, "Industrial Cooperation Organization," and abbreviated to Gonghe when the colonists formed their own government. He knew the right to bear arms was protected by the Gonghe Constitution-- written by soldiers, for soldiers-- and that 99.9% of the adult population were gun owners, ready to fight off an invasion.

He knew the humans were responsible for the deaths of his father and grandfather.

Terl's grandfather died when the accursed James Tiberius Kirk and the USS Enterprise intervened in the first Breen-Gonghe War in 2268 CE-- the Breen fleet, and the men who served in it, were annihilated. His father died in the Ker Incident, in 2344 CE, trying to conquer a star system on the Breen-Gonghe border-- the star was now called Shengli, the Chinese word for "Victory." Terl's father and grandfather remain unavenged-- the Gonghe Army and Navy, the humans' champions, annihilated the raiders Terl sent to "assess the Gonghe defenses."

Now the Breen were Dominion allies, receiving the resources needed to conquer the Gonghe Republic. Once Phase One of his plan was complete, Terl would being Phase Two and avenge his father and grandfather.



An 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic by Sidewinder, 2007. Based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry.


Aboard the Alaska, Trigga'Happi drew his gunblade-- a .44 Magnum revolver-saber hybrid with a 91-centimeter-long blade. In his mind, he faced a warrior with a bat'leth-- the Klingon male parried the opponent's slashes, counterattacking with quick thrusts. "I am badass."

Lieutenant Junior Grade Kayla the Ring Warrior, the Alaska's security chief, frowned at him. "Why do you insist on carrying that phallic symbol of an oppressive military dictatorship?" Li Xiaolong, leader of the PLA super soldiers, designed the gunblade to fit his style of hand-to-hand combat-- the Gonghe military now issued gunblades engraved with winged tigers as awards for valor.

"I respect warriors, including those in government." Inspired by Robert A. Heinlein's novel 'Starship Troopers', the Gonghe government required citizens to serve for three years in the military, or six years as first responders (police officers, firefighters, and paramedics), or nine years as a civil servant. Only after the citizens had served, proving they were willing to put the people's needs before their individual needs, were they granted the right to vote or to be elected to public office.


"Captain on the bridge!"

Capt Rice turned to Trigga'Happi. "Playing with that toy again?"

The Klingon male smiled. "Do you wish to test your weapons against mine?"

"Not now-- we have work to do."

The Alaska's cloaking device was reverse-engineered from the one Capt Kirk 'salvaged' from a Romulan battlecruiser in 2268 CE. Although obsolete, it was still useful-- Capt Rice skillfully avoided sources of antiproton beams, which the Dominion used to detect cloaked vessels.

"We're 24 hours away from the Breen homeworld. With the info we have, we can sail through the Breen defenses like a hot knife through butter. Shall we avenge the Raid on San Francisco?" Kayla suggested.

"I'm afraid the Raid will be unavenged," Capt Rice stated. "For now. The Alaska will be destroyed before we can decapitate the Breen Confederacy, if we decloak to bombard the Breen homeworld."

'Coward,' Kayla didn't say. "Yes, Sir."

The Alaska dived to avoid a formation of Breen warships and Jem'Hadar fighters. "Sir, I'm detecting large amounts of trilithium, tekasite, and protomatter aboard these four fighters." Trigga'Happi pressed a button to display crosshairs on the Jem'Hadar fighters. "I believe they're armed with trilithium weapons."

Terror gripped the crewmembers' hearts. "Oh shit!" "They're gonna use them to destroy the Sun!" "Earth is doomed!" "We're doomed!"

"Not if we can help it." Capt Rice turned to Trigga'Happi. "Arm the Shock and Awe. Decloak on my command." The Alaska approached one of the targeted fighters. "Fire!"

Trigga'Happi decloaked the Alaska and fired the "awe" of the pulse phaser cannons to destroy one fighter. The Klingon targeted a second fighter, fired the "shock" of a quantum torpedo, and watched the fighter transform into a fireball.

The third and fourth fighters disappeared as the Breen warships maneuvered between Terl's Phase One and the escort. The Jem'Hadar fighters turned and rained phased polaron beams on the Alaska. "Evasive action!" The Alaska accelerated as the helmsman pushed and pulled the manual steering column, dodging incoming beams. "Where are the other fighters?!" Capt Rice demanded.

Trigga'Happi's fingers danced on the tactical console. "I found one!" Then phased polaron beams hit the ship, shaking her. The executive officer (XO), who foolishly neglected to wear his seatbelt, flew into the ceiling and broke his neck.

"Fire!" Capt Rice watched phaser beams and quantum torpedoes reach for the fighter-- then a second beam hit the Alaska. Static clouded the viewscreen. "Did we get it?"

Trigga'Happi pressed a button to clear the static and reveal the fighter, its left wing torn off. He fired a third torpedo at the fighter. "We got it."

"Where's the fourth fighter?!"

"Scanning..." The Alaska shook again. "Sir, shields are at 20 percent."

"Activate the cloaking device. I'm afraid we must live to fight another day." No one argued with Capt Rice's decision to run away. "Let's see if our luck will last until we reach Gongye III."


Aboard the Qin, Lieutenant Colonel Ren Teppou took a knee, feeling the point of her gunblade touch the floor. She opened a suitcase to reveal a portable altar to Donner, the German god of thunder. Because Gonghe culture merged those of China and Germany, the statue wore Ming Dynasty armor-- a Chinese dragon's head adorned Donner's hammer. Ren lit a stick of incense and planted it in front of the statue. "Prince Donner, protect us as we battle against the evil masks," the Breen. "Give us victory. Let us crush our enemies on a distant battlefield, so our loved ones may be safe at home," she prayed, thinking of her parents.

Red alert was triggered-- the dreadnought detected a threat. Ren put on her helmet to hear the tactical officer report, "Incoming, cloaked vessel, bearing seven o'clock low," through her helmet-mounted communicator. She ran out of her room, towards the hangar deck.

The Alaska, her ablative armor scorched and pitted by Breen and Jem'Hadar weapons, decloaked 40 kilometers from the Qin-- F-7 Vipers closed the distance in seconds, the fighters' belly-mounted Warthog torpedo volley systems ready to hammer the escort. 'Dear God, let our allies interrogate us for the IFF signal before they blast us into subatomic particles,' Capt Rice prayed. "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the USS Alaska, mayday. We have taken casualties in battle, and require medical assistance."

Capt Rice was lucky-- the IFF transmitter still functioned. "GGV Qin to Federation vessel, lower your shields and prepare to be boarded." Assault shuttles, carrying Gonghe soldiers, approached the escort.

"USS Alaska to GGV Qin, wilco." The soldiers spent one hour aboard the escort-- one platoon searched for Breen or Jem'Hadar infiltrators, while a second platoon provided first aid-- as the Qin escorted the Alaska to a shipyard.


"We can replace the trilithium weapons in 17 years-- we require that amount of time to replenish our trilithium supplies," a Vorta reported.

Terl frowned at the Vorta. "We cannot delay Phase Two-- we must execute Phase One with the remaining trilithium weapon."

"Very well."

Terl's flagship, a Jem'Hadar battleship that was a "gift" from the Dominion, led a fleet of 1000 ships towards Gongye. 1,000,000 Breen and Jem'Hadar warriors served aboard the ships, ready conquer the Gonghe Republic.

Static clouded the viewscreen. "What the fuck is wrong with the viewscreen?!" Terl demanded.

"Sir, I'm detecting large amounts delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol, which is jamming our sensors." The tactical officer pressed a button to clear the static and reveal a space station-- a neon sign, reading, "UKIYO-- THE FLOATING WORLD" was mounted on the command center. "The source of the delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol is apparently this space station."

"Destroy it," Terl ordered.


The target was a Leary station, a commercial space station where marijuana and opium poppies were grown, ecstasy and lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) was manufactured, and Romulan ale was sold-- the Gonghe government tolerated this as long as a Leary station's operators paid double taxes. Aboard the station, sexaroids-- sex androids-- handed opium pipes to a pornographer and a mercenary.

"Fanboy, you're the man," Mark "Shep" Sheppard said as a sexaroid bounced on his lap, impaling herself upon his penis.

"I'm the man!" Fanboy shouted before inhaling enough opium to give a lesser man a fatal overdose.

Shin Teppou, the Leary station's operator, approached the mercenary. "Is there anything else I can get for you, Mister Fanboy?"

"Yeah, a blowjob."

Shin frowned. "I am not..."

"Not from you!" The mercenary pointed at a sexaroid. "From her!"

"Yes, Sir." The sexaroid unzipped Fanboy's pants-- then the ceiling and the floor switched places, throwing the mercenary off his chair.

"What the fuck...?"


Terl watched as the fleet bombarded the Leary station until it resembled a burning skeleton. Static clouded the viewscreen as more tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) leaked from holes in the Leary station's bulkheads. Then the static cleared to reveal... nothing. "Excellent." The Breen officer turned to the helmsman. "Continue the mission."

"Yes, Sir." Boom! "Sir, the warp core is offline."

Terl hovered over his chair as the artificial gravity generators went offline. "What...?" The battleship's stern, severed from the battleship's bow, floated in front of the viewscreen. "What the fuck happened to my ship?!"

The Skullfucker, a Firespray class patrol ship whose warp nacelles were disguised photon torpedo launchers, launched a second seismic charge. "That's for destroying the best Leary station in the whole damn galaxy!" Fanboy shouted as the charge detonated, blasting 24 Jem'Hadar battlecruisers and 45 fighters in half.

Aboard the battleship's bow, the Vorta deadpanned, "I advise you to transfer your flag--" He watched a third charge detonate, blasting 18 battlecruisers and 51 fighters in half. "While you still have another ship to transfer it to."

'Fuck!' "Abandon ship!" Terl ordered.

Aboard the Asskicker, Shep's D7-2 class battlecruiser, Shin was tying to hire Shep, who he assumed was a mercenary. "I cannot avenge the destruction of your Leary station-- I'm outnumbered and outgunned," the pornographer told the man, who claimed to be a descendent of samurai. "Besides, I doubt my friend will forgive the destruction of the best Leary station in the whole damn galaxy." He watched the Leary station's operator shiver in fear of Fanboy.

As the Asskicker sailed away, the Skullfucker rained laser beams on the fleeing Breen and Jem'Hadar ships.


The Gonghe Navy's Tianjian class destroyer was a "stretched" variant of the Defiant class escort. Workers at the shipyard were trained to perform maintenance and repairs on the Defiant class escort. As they repaired the Alaska, Capt Rice named Trigga'Happi as the new XO. "Let's give the Jem'Hadar an ass-kicking so bad, they'll choke on their own guts."

"Yes, Sir."

"Sir, we've received a transmission from the Qin. A Dominion fleet, with 450 to 500 ships, is heading towards the Gongye system," the communications officer reported.

Capt Rice asked, "Have you transferred the data to HQ?" Starfleet Headquarters.

"I did so 30 seconds after we decloaked."

"Then hail the Qin-- ask them if we can offer any assistance."

"Yes, Sir." One minute later, the communications officer reported, "Sir, the Qin welcomes any assistance we can provide in the coming battle."

"Then let's go." The Alaska, her armor still scorched and pitted, sailed out of the shipyard.

The Gonghe Navy ships were firing their heavy and medium PENIS cannons, using their superior firepower to counter the Breen and Jem'Hadar ships' superior speed and maneuverability. Most of the beams missed, but those that hit transformed warships into burning wrecks. As the enemy fleet withdrew, F-7 Vipers were launched. Photon torpedoes flew in all directions-- fighters on both sides were transformed into fireballs.

In the confusion, three Jem'Hadar fighters accelerated towards Gongye.

The Alaska stood in front of the sun, using its light to blind the enemy to the escort's position. "Sir, I detect a trilithium weapon..."

"Destroy it," Capt Rice ordered.

"Three..." Trigga'Happi rained phaser beams and photon torpedoes on the Jem'Hadar fighters, transforming one into a fireball. "Two..." The second tried to ram the Alaska, but this maneuver put it in the pulse phaser cannons' line of fire. "One..." A torpedo hit the third, breaching its hull-- the Klingon detected trilithium particles leaking from the breach like blood from a wound. A second torpedo destroyed the fighter. "Zero."

"Good job, Lieutenant."


Aboard a Breen warship, Terl stared at Gongye, waiting for the trilithium weapon to make the sun to supernova-- once this occurred, the fleet would be free to attack Hezuo III, the Gonghe Republic's legislative capital. "What the fuck is taking them so long?!" The sun disappeared behind a shadow. "Finally!" He noticed the shadow had arms and legs. "What...?"

Ren's MS-9S Tyrant command mechanized striker (MS)-- an 18.5-meter-tall, 79-ton killing machine-- fired a photon torpedo at the bridge, killing everyone inside. "Target neutralized." The MS put its hands on the Breen warship's bow and pushed, throwing the ship in front of another-- the resulting collision destroyed both ships.

The Asskicker exited warp to let Shep see one of the biggest naval battles he'd ever seen. The communications officer reported, "Boss, Outer Heaven," a network for private military contractors and their employers, "has a message from the Gung-Ho," Gonghe, "Navy."

"Tell them to shut the fuck up," Shep answered. "I'm not a mercenary."

"Boss, they're offering a 1,000,000 yuan reward for each Breen warship we destroy, and 500,000 yuan reward for each Jem'Hadar fighter."

Shep's mind turned 180 degrees. "Tell them we're coming to their aid-- Daddy needs a new pair of shoes." The Asskicker accelerated to engage the enemy fleet, her disruptor cannons and torpedo launchers hammering any ships that got in the way.

The battle ended one hour later-- the Gonghe military, and the mercenaries hired to assist them, were victorious. Shin shouted, "Vengeance is mine!" as burning wrecks, all which remained of the enemy fleet, drifted in front of the Asskicker.


Aboard the Skullfucker, Fanboy sat on a pile of gold-pressed latinum, drinking beer. He didn't get the full reward for the Breen and Jem'Hadar ships he destroyed-- the mercenary had to prevent the Gonghe military from learning about the seismic charges, which would make him a target-- but he still earned enough money to buy his own Leary station. "Not bad for a day's work." Fanboy swaggered into the cockpit. "Time to get some pussy." The patrol ship rocketed towards Planet GLOCK, home of Fanboy's favorite topless bar.


Aboard the Asskicker, Shep frowned at the two bishonen-- sexaroids resembling beautiful young men-- which Shin used to pay his fare. "How much are these things worth?"

"We are model 17M bishonen, multipurpose androids capable of serving as sex toys, servants, and/or bodyguards." A sexaroid opened a hidden compartment in his forearm, revealing a rail-- Shep knew it was designed to guide a pistol or knife from the compartment, to the sexaroid's hand. "Our market value is 180,000 to 200,000 yuan."

"I didn't know that samurai guy swung that way."


"I was hoping for a pair of girl sexaroids, but," Shep shrugged. "360,000 to 400,000 yuan is not bad for a day's work." He turned to a crewman. "Take some photos of them so we can sell them on Eternal Rainbow," a network for distributors of gay pornography, "or wherever people go to buy bishonen."

"Sure thing, Boss."


Shin was the most frustrated man in the Gonghe Republic. A man of Japanese descent in a state dominated by those of Chinese descent, he constantly tried-- and failed-- to raise the standing of those of Japanese descent. He once tried to make Japanese one of the Gonghe Republic's official languages, after Mandarin, German, and American English, but a legislator told him, "Mandarin is the language of the people, German is the language of engineers, English is the language of diplomats and merchants. Japanese is the language of whores-- the Gonghe Republic doesn't need more whores," a reference to Shin's position as Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of a sex toy company, the galaxy's largest manufacturer of sexaroids. Shin defiantly ran for the Legislature, but his campaign alienated the 99.9% of the adult population who were gun owners, and he lost to a retired mercenary.

Then Shin tried to arrange a marriage between Ai, his eldest daughter, and a young legislator, thinking the resulting alliance would give him the political influence he needed. But Ai, the perfect woman, genetically enhanced to attract men of German descent, declared, "I'm a lesbian." Shin tried to save the alliance by arranging a marriage between Ren, his youngest daughter, and the legislator, but Ren decided to join the Army instead of becoming a trophy wife.

Shin's dream, to raise the standing of those of Japanese descent, became an obsession. He decided to raise an army and seek military honors, and ordered the sexaroids to be modified into combat androids. But trials showed the androids were as vulnerable to armor piercing explosive (APEX) bullets-- a Gonghe soldier's standard load-- as human beings.

The combat android project bankrupted the company-- Shin lost his position as CEO, leaving him with Ukiyo. Subatomic particles were all that remained of the Leary station-- Shin, whose obsession consumed most of his money, was penniless until the insurance company completed their investigation. So when a Starfleet officer visited the hotel where he was staying, Shin's interest was piqued.

"Good morning, Mister Teppou," the officer greeted.

Shin stared at the officer's rank insignia. "Good morning, Captain..."

"I am Global War On Terror Rice IX."

"You saved the executive capital from the effects of a trilithium weapon."

"I was only returning a favor." Capt Rice was awarded a gunblade, which was now displayed in the Alaska's ready room.

"How may I help a Gonghe hero?"

"Your company designed an assault ship based on the Galaxy class explorer."

"It's useless. According to simulations, the assault section," the saucer section, redesigned to land on a planetary surface, deploy thousands of soldiers, and return to space afterwards, "is too vulnerable during landing."

"I've studied the simulations-- an enemy must have defenses comparable to those of Gongye III to exploit this vulnerability. I believe the assault ship can be used to accomplish my mission."

"Which is?"

"To defend the Federation from its enemies. I am willing to pay any price to accomplish this mission."

Shin smiled-- he still had a copy of the assault ship's blueprints. "Then let us negotiate a reasonable price..."


Not the end.

Gonghe's population includes people of American and Israeli descent, whose ancestors refused to give up the right to bear arms after World War III. Only military service members and licensed mercenaries may legally use APEX bullets. Do not violate this law-- the police won't hesitate to ask the military for assistance in capturing a heavily armed criminal.

If anyone's curious, Tianjian means, "Heavenly Sword," Shin Teppou means, "Real Guns," and Ren Teppou means, "Romancing Guns."

Terl is named after a character created by L. Ron Hubbard.

Nomura Tetsuya designed the gunblade for 'Final Fantasy VIII'-- the weapon used the firing of a cartridge to vibrate the blade and increase the damage caused by a slash or thrust. In comparison, the Gonghe military's gunblades fire bullets, and is a useful long-range weapon.

The F-7 Viper is based on the Mark VII Viper from 'Battlestar Galactica', created by Glen A. Larson and Ronald D. Moore. The command mechanized striker is based on the MS-9F Dom Tropen from 'Mobile Suit Gundam'-- created by Tomino Yoshiyuki and Sunrise.
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.

Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.

They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)

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Post by Lonestar » 2007-08-19 09:21pm


Dink Dink

"Ahh yeah bu-bu-baby, you like that, don't you?" David moved forward, back and forth, thrusting his Gnomish winkie into the poor Armadillo. The violated Dasypodidae whimpered as David grasped his grubby hands around the neck. "Shhhh..."

There was a beep, and his executive assistant, Winky, patched through over the intercome.

"Sir, there is an Aeroshuttle approaching the base. The owners are requesting a meeting with you."

"Fu-Fuck! I told you I wasn't to be-be disturbed! Tell them to fu-fuck off!"

"Yes Sir."

David sighed, and went to work again. Ever since the disaster that had befallen the SEGNOR leadership, he had taken over quite a bit of the Gnomish operations. Sitting here in this (new)Asteroid base, he had salvaged the contacts and trades rights that had given them strength to begin with. Through faith and discipline, he had restored Gnomish prosperity. Of course, he was a dirty little animal fucker, but who cared? The Armadillo whimpered again.

"Qwa--Quiet! You'll take it like a like a man!"

The intercom beeped again.


"I'm sorry sir, but there are two Federation Humans here, and they are insisting that they speak to you. One of them says he knows you by the name 'Operative Rogue Ice'." There was a faint note of puzzlement in her voice. David's hands spasmed and broke the armadillo's neck. He dropped it on the floor, his now flaccid Gnome penis resembling a mutilated Vienna Sausage.

"Stuh---stall them!"

"Too late sir, they're going forcing their way in..."

David looked down at the Armadillo corpsed, pulled up his pants, picked up the corpse, and threw it into a locker. He closed the locker door but failed to lock it when Section 31 Agent Lone Starr and a man known only as "Gunny Rhainsford" entered his quarters. Rhainsford was carrying his M60, like he always did. Starr smiled.

"Ice, good to see you. I see that Swift is still with you." The red fox was lying on the couch watching the whole incident. "Got any Dr. Pepper?" Without waiting for an answer he walked over to the fridge and opened it up.

"Fu-fuck no! That shit tastes like Horse piss and vinegar!"

"Watch it." Starr had turned back. "You've done well for yourself in the time since I've last seen you."

"I'm doing okay!"

Starr nodded. "Yes...the unpleasantness with the SEGNOR leadership. Tell me, how'd you like to get revenge for your fellow Gnomes?"

"I couldn't gu-give two shits!"

"I want all the information pertaining to Shep and Falkenhorst that you have, Ice." Starr took two steps forward. Ice took two steps back, and bumped into the locker. Startled, he jumped up and the door swung open, with the Armadillo corpse fall out.

"You little cocksucker!" Starr lifted David up. David could see the Texas A&M ring on his right hand. Starr's right hand reached for his .45...

..when Swift attacked his right calf. Starr swore, dropped David, and booted the fox across the room. The fox hopped right back up and started makign a close approximation of a growl.

"Tough little shithead." Starr raised his .45 at the fox.

"Swu...Swift! Giant size!"

And before Starr's eyes the foxe grew to roughly twice the size of a Grey wolf. Swift jumped forward, only to be cut down by a hail of bullets from Rhainsford.

"You fu-fu-fuckers! You th-think I'll let you get away with that?" David pushed a button on his watch, and hidden doors in the bulkheads opened up.

Out came nightmares.

Grotesque, Cybernetic monstrosities, including one very large individual that had clearly been Darth Garden Gnome before he was patched back to together. Starr and Rhainsford looked around, and notcied a column was heading down the passageway they just came from.

"Well," Starr said, pointing his gun at David. "I can still kill you."

"I duh-doubt that! Gaerdal Ironhand's might!" Something happened. David grew to well over nine feet tall, and his Gnomish body, already disproportioned, became more so. His skin turned leathery, taking on the look of Kevlar. In his hand was a Mace that was cackling with lightening.

"I'm...I'm th-the Messiah of th-the Gnomes! The-the Gods know this! Now I'll teach you, you sons of bitches! Dink Dink!"

"DINK DINK" came the unearthly chant of the automations.

"Ah, Fuck." Starr said.
"The rifle itself has no moral stature, since it has no will of its own. Naturally, it may be used by evil men for evil purposes, but there are more good men than evil, and while the latter cannot be persuaded to the path of righteousness by propaganda, they can certainly be corrected by good men with rifles."

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2007-11-12 05:55pm

Shep scratched his head as he watched Fanboy pull a flask of bootleg gin out of his jacket pocket. "So what you're saying is..."

"The Grinch fucked up, pure and simple." DF said as he emptied the contents of the flask into the lukewarm cup of slop that passed for coffee in the diner.

"I don't get it. I mean he did everything he could without arousing too much suspicion. In the end the Whos were to incorruptible, more so than real human beings. I don't think he fucked up so much as he never had a chance to begin with."

"That's where you're rong my irradiated friend." Fanboy said. "You see, the whole point of that story was that the Whos still enjoyed their holiday because they had each other. If he wanted to ruin the holiday he should have killed at least one family member from each household. They wouldn't have been singing come Christmas Day if everyone in town had woke up the next morning to find their disembowled family members under the tree."

"That's pretty fucking sick man. Best to just blow up the whole town and be done with it."

"No arguing here, except that this is the Grinch we're talking about here. He is one demented psycopath. Our kind of guy. He gets his jollies off of watching people suffer. He probably got kicked out of a bondage club or two for going overboard. He watched the movie Se7en just for a cheap laugh. I'll bet he works at the Who-ville DMV!"

"Okay, so he wants to see people suffer, but if that's true then how come at the end of the Story he ends up going all buddy buddy with the Whos?"

Fanboy slugged down the last of the foul concoction in his cup. "Moychendizing." He said, perfectly mimicking YOgurt from the Mel Brooks classic film SPACEBALLS. "You really think people are going to shell out a few bucks to hear the tale of how the Grinch went door to door cutting up kindly old ladies and orphaning children and topping it all off by throwing Cindy Lou Who in a woodchipper to make her stop crying after she sees him dousing their tree in gasoline and igniting the fire that wipes out her whole family?"

"That's just sick man."

"Only if it was a real child, but the Whos are all Fictional characters man."

"Still, you can''t write a holiday special where Cindy Lou Who is thrown in a wood chipper. EVEN WE HAVE STANDARDS."

"Well what if I replace it with a scene where the Grinch walks in on her parents dressed up as Santa and Mrs. Claus with Santa doing MRs. Claus from behind with a large phallic shaped Candy Cane?"

"Seems a little pedestrian."

"But get this, Mrs. Who is dressed as Santa, and is pegging Mr. Who from beind in what can only be described as a sickeningly tight green elf costume."

"Ick, i'm cringing. Means that it's good to go."

"Cool then, so I have approval?"

"I guess. But remember."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I can't toss that little kid in a wood chipper, no matter how much she deserves it. Smug little bitch though she is."

"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-05-09 03:48am

Episode -1, Part VIII


If you haven't figured it out by now, then it goes without saying, i've gone somewhere else. We've been terrific together, and I will always
love you and be grateful for everything you've done for me. But I can't live the rest of my life with you trying to protect me, and having you shelter me every time you go off and earn money for the future that we should be building together.

I'm sure it's hurting you just as much to read this as it hurts me to write this, so i'll keep it short. You'll always be the one for me. If you ever feel lonely just look out at the stars and know that i'm out there somewhere. Not that it means much, but there is a file attachment on this data card. It's my favorite picture of us, it was right after we got married and we were pulling that heist on Luna. I still can't believe you had the balls to just give those Feds the finger with all three of them pointing phaser rifles at you, if I hadn't detonated that EMP...

I guess that's the point of what i'm trying to say. We were a team, and somewhere along the line we stopped being a team and you started taking on all of the burden. Well I don't want to be your burden any more, I want you to be happy D, it's what i've always wanted ever since you freed me from that horrible place.

I love you D, always will

5th Xenobatallion Field Hospital, Exmodeus III

The field hospital was about as miserable of a hospital as Fanboy had ever seen, but it still had its advantages over their tent. There was a cot large enough that Fangirl could sit with him, and there were fewer people there since the now paranoid Romulan Commanders had sent every able body to defensive positions, there would be no more restful periods save for the wounded, and Fanboy still qualified as such.

The medics had mended his cracked ribs and stitched his flesh, but the damaged muscle tissue would take longer to heal. Never one to listen to a doctor's opinion, Fangirl had decided to test her lover's physical condition with tests of her own. She had him seated on the cot, his pants off and her top removed.

"Good to know THAT still works." She said playfully, her tongue dancing across her lips as she admired his proud erection. She leaned in to him and rubbed her incredibly ample chest in his face, and slowly trickled down until she was eye to eye with him.

As they met with a passionate kiss, Fangril began playing with her own left nipple as her other hand grabbed Fanboy by the back of his head, allowing her to force her tongue in deeper. When they broke the kiss she regained her smile and proceeded to slink down his body until her face was in front of what she desired.

Her mouth opened only slightly as her tongue reached out to lick the tip of his manhood. with her hands and knees on the floor and her chest sticking out, Fangirl swirled her tongue over the head. Normally she was not quite so submissive, but there were times when she truly got off by subjecting herself to the whims and pleasures of her husband.

Steadying herself on her knees, she repositioned herself slightlyand began to use her right hand to caress Fanboy's entire cock as she took the first couple of inches into her mouth. She pressed her tongue firmly on the undersideand began rocking her head back and forth, eliciting a groan from Fanboy, who had started clenching the sheet beneath him in his hands tightly.

With her throat now properly relaxed, Fangirl put both hands on the base of Fanboy's girth and slid her head over his entire length. She lifted her head and repeated this several times and moaned intensely when Fanboy placed his head on the back of her head, running it through her hair.

She lifted her head again and this time brought Fanboy completely out of her mouth, she looked up at him and grinned as her now free right hand began to stroke him smoothly.

"You know, there is something we haven't done in a while...one of your favorites" she said with a mischeivous edge in her voice.

Fanboy was dumbfounded. He could have sworn that, since reuniting with her and signing up with the Romulan Mercenary forces, that he had fucked her in all of his favorite ways completely. His memory returned to him though, as Fangirl procured a small vial from a pocket on her gear belt.

"I remember that lotion, from Earth right?"

Fangirl nodded, it was a special blend handmade back on Earth, a very expensive one at that. As a gift, Fanboy had once hijacked a cosmetics freighter and stolen an entire case of the stuff, leaving the rest of the goods and the dumbstruck crew behind.

"That's right love," Fangirl said coyly, "and you do remember what we used it for right?"

"How could I forget?" Fanboy said, overwhelmed with anticipation.

Fangirl began to apply the contents of the vial, applying a generous amount to her palsm before dropping the vial and taking his shaft in her hands. Knowing that he was still sensitive from what she had just done to him, she tightened her grip on him with both hands and worked them around, causing him to exhale deeply.

After a minute of that, she worked her left hand up and down his length while using the palm of her right hand to rub all over the soft head of his cock. He was extra senstive there, and she knew it. Using the palm of her hand she rubbed carefully in small circles.

She could tell it was working, because Fanboy's arms had stiffed completely and the bedsheets beneath him were tightly wrapped around his hands.

Feeling confident that he was now "prepared" she reached down with her hands and hefted her breasts up towards him, wrapping them around his slickened cock and squeezing them together, moving them up and down as he moaned again.

This had been something she had done for him on rare occaisions before when they were together, not because she disliked it, but because she knew that he was enamoured with her breasts and she decided to use them this way for special moments.

As she moved her breasts Fangirl noticed that Fanboy had begun to lift his hips slightly, moving them in perfect synch with her own motion. She could tell he was really getting into it. Before long he had begun to grind himself into her chest more and more and was steadily losing control of his orgasm.

Anticipating his release, and extremely turned on, Fangirl lowered her head and began to use her tongue on the tip of his cock again. The combined stimulations overwhelmed Fanboy and before long his breathing had become labored and his entire body had clenched.

"Oh fuck...."

Fangirl knew what was going to happen, she raised her head and looked right at him, meeting his eyes with hers and smiling. "Do it." She said, her tone was still playful, but it had lost its submissive feeling and had gained a more authoritarian one.

Fanboy came hard and fast, Several white ropes burst from him and landed across Fangirl's chest and neck as she leaned her head back, gasping with excitement.

With the blood quickly rushing away from his head, Fanboy slowly slide off of the bed and joined his beloved on the floor, offering her his bedsheets as a towel.

She accepted and began to clean herself off. "I think i'll let those doctors know that you're starting to feel better."

"I'd wake up from a coma if it meant that you'd do that for me. I must have been really good, because you only ever did that once in a while."

"Well I wasn't going to, but I figured you had earend I a good orgasm, and I can't expend too much of my energy on one of our patented marathon fuck session what with the special assignment coming up."

"Special assignment? What Special assignment?" Fanboy asked, he was still in a very mellow frame of mind, but he had begun to grow nervous.

Fangirl sighed, she had wanted to put off this conversation as long as possible, possibly even avoid it altogether. "Don't look so surprised, this is partially your fault you know. That raid last night scared the bajeezus out of the Rommies, and because us mercenaries were the only ones effective in the fighting Shinzon has decided that he's going to have us spearhead the attack. I was picked as part of a small group that's going to go in ahead of the main attack and secure all of the technological plunder we can find."

Fanboy was about to protest, but before he could get a word in edgewise, Fangril struck him in the jaw with a perfectly timed right cross.

"Don't you dare say that it's too dangerous, because that's the sort of thinking that caused me to leave you in the first place, and before your ego kicks in yes you were considered for the assignment but this ugly ass Reman Commander named Vkruk that put together the team says you aren't in good enough shape for the infiltration team, but that you'll be permitted to earn your share when the main attack starts."

Fanboy was quiet, and he stayed quiet.

"So you aren't going to say anything at all then. Because the only thing you can think of right now is my own personal safety. God Dammit D! I should have known this was going to happen, but there's a lot of cash up for grabs if I pull this off and i'm not going to have you dragging me down!"

Fangirl gathered her things to go prepare for the mission. Fanboy remained where he was, still silent, and still seething. Yet he could not understand whether he was more angry with her, or with himself?

Quickly he banished all of those thoughts and closed his eyes, angst rarely befit a mercenary.

"I'll skip the emo bullshit, and we'll talk about it when it's all said and done. If I have to apologize again so be it, but i'm not losing her again. No way."

Shinzon's Flagship, in orbit over Exmodeus III

"Everything is in place?" Shinzon said as he looked down at the world of Exmodeus III from the viewport of his Warbird's observation deck.

"They are Admiral," Vkruk confirmed. "A strike team of mercenaries has been assembled to lead the attack and secure Dominion technology. The cloning vats should be there, as should anything else that the Dominion has managed to scavenge from the Borg Cube."

Shinzon turned and looked toward his trusted aide. "And do the mercenaries suspect anything?"

"No Admiral, we've spread the word that the Mercenaries are leading the attack because of their performance in the battle. They have no idea that the Borg inside the cube have awakened and begun assimilating Jem'Hadar."

Grabbing his sides, Shinzon began hacking and weezing. "Then the operation is to commence as soon as our commanders on the planet have finished with their preparations. I don't need to remind you of the price of failure now do I colonel?"

The Reman, with his unflinching resolve, knew and accepted the consequences as did all soldiers of his species. "We shall not fail you Admiral, this battle and this war are as good as ours."

"The sooner the better Vkruk. Whatever it is about these damned Borg they're making my own condition worse and I'm not about to let this drag out any longer. Did you manage to bring me any intelligence of value from the Dominion base?"

Vkruk's expression turned unsually sour, even for a Reman. "It appears that they have been overrun. The surviving Dominion troops are holed up within their buildings and will not last long. With the way the war was proceeding, it is almost a certainty that they will not be recieving any reinforcements either..."

Dominion Encampent, Exmodeus III

"What do you mean we can't bring in reinforcements!" Dizel barked at the Cardassian tech in front of him.

"I mean exactly what I said Vorta!" We cannot contact Cardassia! We cannot be sure if it is the Romulans, the Borg, or this some part of this accursed planet itself but something is preventing us from making long range communications."

Dizel repressed a yell, and then clasped his hands in the typical arrogant posture of a Vorta commander. "I guess I should not be surprised, if only we had real Dominion engineers, or perhaps even some of your more competent Breen counterparts, then we probably would not be in this mess now would we?"

The Cardassian broke towards the Vorta in a rage, and was prepared to leap over Dizel's desk and snap him in pieces. However, before he could do so, Dizel's Jem'Hadar guard grasped the Cardassian by his collar and pulled him backwards, letting him fall to the floor.

"The price of mutiny," Dizel threatened as he regained his composure, "is death." He turned to the Jem'Hadar guard and gave the order.

"Kill the traitor now."

As much as Jem'Hadar normally approved of Cardassian executions, the soldier was reluctant to comply with the oirder, only his genetic programming kept him from doing exactly what the Cardassian had attempted himself. It only took one shot with his rifle, point blank at the Cardassian's forehead, to finish the job.

"Dispose of him, string him up somewhere where the other Cardassians can see him, and make sure that they do. Let them know that they exist here on our whim. If they didn't have sensitive technological knowledge i'd feed them to the damned Borg!"

Complying, the Jem'Hadar dragged the body out of Dizel's office. Dizel reclaimed the small pistol he had admired before, and briefly considered that it might be time for his service to end. In the end, he relented, there was still work to be done in the name of the Founders. His life was not his own to take until that work was complete. If the techs weren't motivated enough out of fear now they would be once they saw their fellow's corpse on display. It would be up to them to make contact and begin work on transmitting the data. The Trans-warp technology research would be greatly useful, and at least one breaktrhough was made regarding the Borg's adaptive shielding.

But most interesting to Dizel was the Borg's assimilation of a weapons technology from the Delta Quadrant, a working copy of a Thalaron radiation device capable of depopulating entire worlds. One that had been strikingly easy to recreate here in the base itself, they very same one that would also serve as the Dominion's failsafe should the Borg or the Romulans break through.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-05-13 01:22pm


DARTH GARDEN GNOME, once thought dead, has survived and reclaimed his authority from ACE PACE. Using time travel, he has conquered the galaxy and built a powerful military using co-opted Borg Technology. Hope is not lost, as the Adult Merchant Ship ASSKICKER was saturated with a rare strain of Quantum Tetrahydrocannibol from the Potsmoke of DARTH FANBOY. A sliver of hope remains for the universe.

In an effort to travel back in time and undo the damage made to the timeline by the gomes, the Elite Principality of Zeon operative ZAIA commandeered the refurbished D-7 co-owned by SHEPPARD and FALKENHORST.

Unfortunately the attempt chronological repair was cut short as the ASSKICKER's transmission blew out since FALKENHORST had restored the ship using mostly old car parts and duct tape.

As fate would have it though, just as our heroes were facing destruction at the hands of a pair of Gnomish Cubes, a mysterious individual appeared on the bridge of the ASSKICKER, and triggered a plot device...


"Wow! It is you! It really is you! The most infamous pornlords of the third millenium! Fhep and Salk!"

"Just who the fuck are you?" Falk demanded. "How do all of these fucking cocksuckers keep showing up on my god damned ship. Nog, check the pressurization in here, someone must have left open a fucking window!"

"My, I never expected the greatest heroes of our time to be so...colorful!" The mysterious individual said as he held up what appeared to be a tricorder on steroids. "My genetic scan tells me that you must be Salk! Which means that this gentleman over here must be Fheppard. Oh it is so good to meet you!"

Sheppard's brow furled. "Likewise...I guess. Now if you could answer my associate's question and just tell me who you are?"

"Oh i'm afraid I can't do that, you see, that would be in violation of the Temporal Prime Directive. I'm a student from twelve thousand years in the future, a bit of an Academia Nut if you will I suppose. I'm writing an essay on the great heroes Fhep and Salk. I'm just storing my Temporal Shuttlecraft in your cargo hold, there were a few crates I had to transport into space but i'm sure you don't mind seeing as how they were full of nothing but milk anyways."

Falk's face went beet-red as his anger boiled. "You mean you just ditched our ENTIRE cargo of Betazoid breastmilk into space? I oughta fucking shoot you right now!" With that, Falk unholstered his pistol and aimed it right at the young man's head.

Zaia stood by with her Martini Henry rifle, "Did you say...Temporal Shuttle?"

The frightened young Academia Nut nodded his head feverishly. "Why...yes ma'am! A fine one also, the latest in Carfederklingomulengian Republic technology. Of course I cannot allow you to see it, as it would be a..."

"Shut up! Just shut up! Sheppard can I shoot him NOW?" Falk screamed as he stepped in closer, pressing the barrel of his gun to the man's head.

"Cool it Falk, if what this chump is saying is true, we can make a hell of a lot more money than selling teatjuice. Although if he calls us 'Fhep and Salk' instead of 'Shep and Falk' one more time you can kick him in the balls.

"Shep and Falk? Then the historical texts are wrong! Either that or perhaps i've entered a further deviation from my own timeline than I had thought, you see, according to the 'Many Worlds' theory there are infinite..."

The Academia Nut's lecture was cut off by a swift kick in the groin from a now satisfied Falkenhorst. "Nog, what's the status of those Cubes out there?"

Nog punched up a few commands on his console, rendered partially useless in the Slingshot attempt. "The Borg...errr...the Gnomes are attempting to fire their main weapon but it appears they can't reach the firing switch. They are trying to create a pyramid of gnomes so that one of them can climb up to the switch and I don't know how many more times they are going to fall over before they get it!"

"There isn't much choice then," Zaia said. "You stay here and try to save yoruselves, I am going to take that time machine and stop the Gnomes from altering history."

"Oh is that what you think?" Falk said. "Listen gorgeous, Nerd guy over there said that WE are the heroes of history. So it's pretty obvious that we have to go or you're just going to screw it up, you'll probably get lost in the past because of your driving skills and end up crashing into a shoestore back in the 20th centu...OW!"

Sheppard slapped Falk in the back of the head, hoping to keep Zaia from being to offended so that he could make his move later. "What Falkenhorst meant to say, s that we are obviously required for this mission. Besides, the Time Machine is on OUR ship and if we're going to go off saving the universe, then we might as well make some fucking money."

"You don't have to do this, it's too dangerous, and besides you can't just..."

"GUYS." Came a loud voice over the intercom, it was Fanboy. "I FOUND A TIME MACHINE IN THE HOLD, I'LL BE RIGHT BACK."

Zaia, Shep, and Falk all looked at each other in horror as they realized that thier window of opportunity was closing, not to mention the potentially devastating consequences that the mercenary could have on the timeline if allowed to depart unchecked.

Thinking fast, Zaia knocked out the Academia Nut with a swift uppercut and began sprinting off of the bridge with Shep close behind.

"Nog!" Falk yelled. "Keep that dipshit company and try not to get killed. If I get back and my ship isn't fixed I'm going to cut off your ears, piss in them, and then send you back in time so that you can relive your experiences with Dr. Bashir, you got that?"

This terrified the young Ferengi. "Absolutely sir, just try not to fuck up!"

"If I had the time i'd beat your ass for that." Falk threatened as he ran to the hold.


The Golden Age had entered its twelfth month, and the Prime Dalton was pleased. With the apparent demise of Unnamed Porno Fanfic, the Daltons had managed to begin repairing the precious fabric of continuity in all of existence.

The Lord of all Fan-Created Realties, it was Prime Dalton who reaped the benefits of this the most, and his power expanded rapidly as the Dark Cloud of Dischord faded away. As he walked through his palace, he passed by the Interdimensional Monitoring Station that allowed the Daltons to peer into the various universes, and he was pleased. Various fictions from the worlds of Evangelion, Transformers, Star Wars, and Warhammer 40k blossomed before him, giving him strength.

AS he turned away to enjoy a few private moments with his collection of Zaia action figures, confiscated from the UPF-verse many moons ago, The Prime Dalton stopped and sneezed, an unusual occurence, for since the beginning of the Golden Age he had been in perfect health.

"My Lord!" Screamed Dalton #8472, an alien version of the Original Dalton with bizarre limbs and a pink, bony, skeletal structure. "We have encountered a terrible vergence in a dormant sector!"

Prime Dalton moved over to the station where his minions were seated. "It's probably that bastard Chris O'Farrell, which is fine. We haven't had any updates from that sector since..."

"Forgive me, my leige, but it is not the O'Farrellverse." Replied Dalton #414, who was adorable in his green pointed hat and tunic, with a wooden sword strapped to his back. "It's broadcasting something, if we access the broadcast we might be able to discover its origin."

"Do it." Ordered the Prime Dalton. #414 brought up the broadcast on his station and routed the singal through the master audio system.

Were no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do i

Prime Dalton struggled to recognize the tune, but anger and hate welled up inside of him as its significance dawned on him. The other Dalton's appeared to be confused by it, all save for Dalton 1987, who donned his trenchcoat and sunglasses and began dancing and singing along.

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

Prime Dalton raised mighty hand and telekinetically "ROB SMASH"ed Dalton #1987. #1987 exploded into a fine pulp and his outdated clothing became stained red with blood and entrails.

"Clean up this mess," Prime Dalton ordered. "Nobody rickrolls the Fortress of Fanfic Solitude and gets away with it! Now just where is this damned song coming from! Is it the Coffeeverse? The Sidewinderverse?"

Dalton #8472 punched a few keyes and his eyes widened in horror. "My Lord...it's coming from...UPF!"

"UPF! Those mongrels!" Prime Dalton put on a strong face for his underlings, but his nerves were fraying rapidly. "Just what is it, another pathetic interlude? Or maybe another chapter of that lame Fanboy origin story?"

"No exalted one," 8472 cringed, ",it's the main storyline. They've stolen a time machine and co-opted another fanfic author as a cameo! There has been a marked destabilization in the reality barriers!"

A terrible explosion rocked the Fortress, sending minions scrambling and tables of delicious pastries tumbling to the floor. The Prime Dalton, nauseated and light headed, promptly vomited on the floor, causing Dalton #10075 and his three nipples to slip in the puddle as he walked past. As soon as it had began, the Golden Age had ended.

"Not even a new chapter of Star Crossed could immediately repair things!" Prime Dalton yelled. "We will have to take extreme measures to deal with this. Send the Naga to our deepest Volcano and open a portal above the UPF Author's residences and destroy them!"

"But Exalted One! That's from an original fictions, not a fanfic, we don't have access to that reality!"

"Then find a reality that we can access with the Firepower to destroy UPF! This I command!" Yelled the Prime Dalton. "I don't care what it takes!"


"Oh you guys want to go too? I was just going to be a minute, figured I'd go score some blow off of Lindsay Lohan and do a few lines off of Britney Spears' scalp." Fanboy said deadpan, with no idea what was taking place.

"Why did you hire him again?" Zaia asked as she took the co-pilots seat and began examining the controls, which were not too dissimilar from the less functional but aesthetically pleasing flat panel piloting controls used by most Federation ships.

"It's not like we had a choice, we had to get out of that Gnome Asteroid as fast as we could and unfortunately we promised the guy more money than we had." Sheppard said, as he and Falk squeezed into the passengers area.

Zaia didn't buy it. "But you guys make incredible amounts of money, just where the fuck does it all go?"

"It's complicated," Shep said, "A lot of our cash is tied up in assets, and more of it has to be ran though our subsidiaries in order to properly launder...err...legitimately account for..."

"Shut the fuck up shep. She might be five and a half feet of eye candy to you but she's still a fucking cop no matter how you look at it."

Shep sat in silence, his comrade was right. "Look lady, we're stuck with you right now but that's it! MY friend here is just smitten because he's never seen a girl that can handle a gun better than him that's all. Besides, i've seen better tail than you before."

"Is that so?" Zaia said as she smirked. "Even that hairy fuckbuddy of yours on Vega Mr. Falkenhorst? Oh that's right, Zeon knows about you, we know everything, I don't need that lovestruck nukehead to tell me what I need to know about your operation. I just have to open up a file. We've had enough dealings with smut peddlers to know they aren't to be trusted, no matter the quality of their wares."

Annoyed, but not surprised, Falk dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Yeah? well I know that the Principality of Zeon has more civilian traffic accidents than any other civilized nation, just make sure that you don't steer us into a black hole or something."

Now Zaia was the irritated one. "I really should shoot you, I really really really should shoot you."

"Hah! You can't! You're sworn to protect the timeline and Shep and I are supposed to be heroes!"

A disgusted Fanboy interjected. "Will you two shut up? I'd like to go find some loose celebrity skanks by the time my buzz wares off. Time travel motherfuckers!"

"Hold on," Zaia pleaded. "We need to properly plot a course, we can't just jump around time all...."

"Sorry! Can't hear you! I'm a fucking time traveller!" Fanboy said with a menacing delight as he began pushing random buttons. The time Capsule began to glow with a bright light and vanished from the Asskicker's hold.

On the bridge of the Asskicker, Nog and the Academia Nut worked to get the ship underway. The Academia Nut was despondent, "Oh man, I'm gonna be in so much trouble..."

Nog just laughed. "Dude, you just gave the two most influential pornographers, a Militant Lesbofascist Commando, and the most doped up Mercenary in History a time machine. If anything we're ALL in trouble."

"Are you serious?" The student screamed. "Oh fuck, they're going to start calling me 'Janeway'! It will be worse than that motherfucker that went back in time and started telling people that the universe was ruled by some alien named Xenu so he could scam some money out of them!"
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-05-22 01:48pm


The Academia Nut's time travelling ship was stolen by the UPF crew and Zaia as they set out to undo the Gnomes manipulation of the timestream. As with all things UPF, this can only go very wrong...


Fanboy, in his misguided and erratic haste, somehow had managed to simultaneously activate the time ship's warp drive and temporal drive. This propelled the ship back along it's course to it's point of origin, while also flinging it hundreds of years into the past.

"Fuck fuck fucking fuck!" Screamed Falkenhorst as the ship rattled and rolled, which caused him to suffer from incredible motion sickness. "Fanboy If I puke I am going to shoot you!"

"If you puke and it lands on me I'll shoot you!" Shep screamed as he too was overcome with nausea.

"Both of you idiots put both your dicks and your guns away. I'm trying to steer!" Zaia shouted as she reached back and swatted them both.

Fanboy laughed uncontrollably as he swallowed two glowing green pills he procured from his gear belt. Zaia spotted the glow out of the corner of her eye and her jaw dropped in horror. "Was that Andorian Ecstacy?"

"Might be, either that or a dose of Cardassian Acid, I can't rmeember which, only one way to find out." Fanboy said as he casually swalled two more of the pills and rolled his eyes into the back of his head.

"Well try and keep your head together until we land, we have a job to do and we can't just....shit!"

The abrupt change in Zaia's sentence caused Fanboy to laugh harder. "I would hope that we don't crap our pants!"

"That's not what I meant you idiot! The proximity alarms just went off! We're about to hit someth......"

Another ship fired out of the timestream a split second right behind the time pod and crashed into the side of the ship. Both time travelling vessels spun out of control and began to plummet towards the atmosphere, where they were quickly engulfed in Earth's atmosphere and spiraled down, crashing into a hillside in a green field. Less than a hundred meters away from the time pod's crash site was the time travelling ship that had struck them, now buried half deep in a crater of its own.

"Everyone OK?" Zaia asked, secretly hoping for a lack of responses and disappointed when all three responded quickly.

Falkenhorst was angry as hell, and it was made even worse when he pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket, only to find that it had been wrecked from the crash.. "Fanboy, as long as we're still paying you, get your ass over there and beat the shit out of whoever it was that ran into us, break his legs if you can. That fucking shitbag doesn't know how hard it is to find a hand rolled cigar in the 24th century!"

Fanboy, only slightly mellowed out by the pills, agreed and began to sprint the distance between the two crashed vessels.

"So what time exactly are we in?" Shep said, stating the obvious question on everyone's mind.

"It's difficult to say," Zaia said. "Nothing in the ship is responding."

That was not the answer Falkenhorst wanted to hear. "Well you're going to get back in there and make it work! You've been nothing but bad news ever since you and your fleet of girly wannabe soldiers started shooting at us."

"Hey!" Fanboy yelled. "I'll bet this douchebag can fix the ship!"

Walking confidently back towards the others, Fanboy was pulling a small man with curly hair by what appeared to be a very long scarf. The man struggled and pulled at the scarf and kept just enough air flowing into his lungs to survive.

"Guy said he was a Doctor, so he's obviously some kind of egghead. Although his time machine looks like it belongs in some shitty English town." Fanboy said as he picked the man up and tossed him in front of Zaia.

"I don't know who any of you are but I do think i'm owed some sort of apolog....OOF!" The odd looking man was stopped as Zaia kicked him in the groin.

"I'll be the one doing the talking she said," allowing her Zeonic interrogation training to take over. "Let's start by you telling me what exactly that thing is over there..."

"We'll since you're obviously fellow time travellers, you should know then that THAT over there is a TARDIS."

Fanboy immediately began giggling, and in his inebriated state he could not prevent himself from falling to the ground and laughing. "You mean that thing over there is called a TARDASS? That is too damn funny!"

"That is NOT the correct pronunciation, but back to what I was saying, that ship over there is the ONLY time travelling ship that should even be on this world at this time! What is it that you are doing here in that unsophisticated contraption!"

Zaia motioned over to Sheppard, "My rifle please," was all she said.

"Uhhh I hate to tell you this but it was broken in the crash."

Zaia immediately began to tense up, the Martini Henry rifle that she had cared for since her early childhood had been taken from her and it was as close to a personal posession as she had left. Still, she maintained her poise. "Well then, Shep darling, give me your gun."

Shep hesitated, although he desperately wanted to please this woman, he risked giving away his only firearm. Zaia's impatience finally made the decision for him. "NOW!" she demanded. Shep quickly tossed the weapon over to her and without missing a beat she smashed the handle of the gun across their captive's face, shttering the orbital bone in one of his eye sockets. "Do anything, ANYTHING else to piss me off so that I can justify killing you. I've had a very bad day and sometimes we females do fit our unpredictable stereotypes. And i've learned well over a hundred ways to mutilate a man's testicles that keep him from passing out."

The man kept quiet, only nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"Good," Zaia said, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "Now tell me where exactly is it we are, since it's your fault that we're both stuck here."

"You must be Zeonic, those don't exist just yet. Fascinating, very well then. Just call me 'the Doctor', i've been travelling through time for many years and I was on my way back here to Earth because of a terrible happenstance that threatens all of time and space..."

The Doctor went on and explained to Zaia about how a powerful and Mysterious race in the future known as the Daleks had been suddenly conquered by a lesser but crafty race of tiny humanlike men that had taken over the Dalek's bodies and turned them into pilotable craft.

"Gnomes!" Zaia stated in amazement.

"Precisely," said the Doctor. "Would you care for a Jelly Baby?" Zaia, Sheppard, and Falkenhorst looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders before deciding to each take one of the tasty treats.

Completely disarmed by the man's charm and personality, the three began to relax. "Would your friend like one?" The Doctor asked, as if he had completely forgotten the thrashing he had recieved moments before.

"He's had enough for the day." quipped Falkenhorst. "Now what are you going to do about fixing our ship?"

"Well I suppose I could take a look at it, after all compared to my ship it's not nearly as sophisticated."

As the Doctor moved over to examine the crashed time pod, Fanboy looked over at the now abandoned timeship across the field. His idea generating capacity was already incredibly enhanced (in his own opinion) and he was just about to have his most consequential idea yet.

As Shep and Falk watched the Doctor and Zaia carefully as they began to make delicate repairs to the control console, they heard an odd noise. They turned around to see the TARDASS glowing many bright colors before disappearing. When they realized that Fanboy was nowhere to be seen, they looked back at each other with an expression of sheer horror.

"We'll isn't that just fifteen types of shit squeezed through Satan's cock right into our mouths...." Falkenorst exclaimed using an old Benzite curse he had picked up on the fringes of civilized space.

"Think of it this way, we don't have to pay him now!" Shep said, trying to put an optimistic spin on it.

"It's not that," Falk said, "I'm just mad I didn't think of it first."

"Think of what?" Zaia said as she climbed out of of the time pod with the Doctor close behind her, Shep and Falk saw that the Doctor was looking around frantically for the TARDASS.

"Well, you see Fanboy....well....."

Zaia felt a migraine headache coming on as the implications to the timeline were being felt, her only hope was that the man was so high that his actions would be inconsequential.

"That insufferable behemoth took my TARDIS! Why didn't you stop him?" The Doctor screamed, which caused Falkenhorst to draw his gun and shoot the beleaguered Time Lord in the kneecap. The bone and tissue burst messily and Zaia looked down disgustedly as bits of tendon and cartilage sprayed over her.

"Oh that felt goooooood. I take you you managed to fix this piece of shit?" Falk asked Zaia.

Zaia, her sympathies drained after the Doctor's incessant pleas for her to become his new companion, shrugged her shoulders as she brushed the sinew and gore off of her clothing. "The ship is largely intact, and the temporal drive is still functioning, but we have no hyperdrive. Fortunately the Gnomish plan started somewhere here on Earth so we don't have to do any interplanetary travelling."

"Whatever, let's just get the fuck out of here." Shep said as he callously stepped over the bleeding and crying Doctor.

"Wait!" ,cried the Doctor, "what are you going to do with me? You can't just leave me!"

"Hey you're the Time Guy or whatever," Falk said. "Just send your future self here back in time to save you or some shit, and while you're at it LEARN TO DRIVE asshole."

"If that were the case, wouldn't I have already come back to save myself by now? You must help me!"

In an attempt to score additional brownie points with his deference, Shep looked over at Zaia. The Zeonic Commando's patience with men though, was wearing quite thin. "I'd just have ended up shooting him anyway."

And so our heroes, minus their hired muscle, stepped back into the timeship and set back off into Earth's history as the Doctor watched. He had managed to stem the bleeding with his scarf but did not know how long he would last.

"Bugger." He said as he knew that his death was certain, wondering if he would be able to regenerate into his next incarnation. But within minutes of his being left behind, a portal opened up in front of his, rolling through the portal were a trio of cylindrical aliens, armed and armored beyond any other species in the universe, the Doctor knew them as the Daleks. However, they were now far more dangerous. The trio of Former Daleks rolled towards the Doctor and quickly identified him.




Their mechanical voices were much more high pitched than the Doctor was used to, but he was not afraid. Until he realized exactly just how much more dangerous they had become.

"IN-SEM-IN-ATE!" the three yelled in unison as their main weapons all lowered towards the poor Doctor, who was immediately triple-plugged by three extending Gno-mek probes in his two orificies, plus one which forcibly penetrated his navel. The Gnomes of the far future had still not overcome their reproductive problems, but had found a way to alter their own sperm so that it would change the DNA of other species to become Gnomish.

The Doctor wanted desperately to throw up, but the viscous liquid being pumped down his throat was also numbing his gag reflex, forcing the disgusting and briny tasting liquids down his throat and into his stomach, which he felt shrinking along with the rest of his organs.

After twenty minutes or so, a small curly haired gnomes stood up where there had once been a human sized time Lord. He looked up to the sun with his diminuitive eyes for the first time and yelled at the top of his lungs. "HAIL GNOMAGE!." The three Gno-meks cheered around him and re-opened the portal. The small naked Gnome, once the Doctor, immediately smiled with a toothy grin and reported to his new kinsmen.

"I have an urgent message for our Lordship. Dink Dink! There is a threat to our plans that made it back from the 24th century! Dink Dink!"

Aboard the TARDASS, Fanboy discovered perhaps the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. The central console was linked to a large electronic hookah which boasted technology centuries, perhaps millenia, beyond what he was used to. Cases of exotic narcotics and psychotropic drugs were piled neatly in the corners, and seated on a velvet couch in the corner, was an unconscious and attractive woman that Fanboy assumed was a passed out coke whore.

"Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet." He said as he made his way to the console and activated the hookah, loading it with several grams of Romulan Marijuana he had brought with him through the timestream. The entire chemical content of the plant was delivered into his lungs, bloodstream, and brain in microseconds. It was a headrush unlike any Fanboy had ever experienced.

Over in the corner of the couch, an awakening Leela looked over and saw the unknown man, examining him for a few minutes before identifying him.

"It is him! The prophecy was true!"

Fanboy noticed the girl as she awoke, and at a loss for words he could only reply "Do what now?"

Leela stood up off the couch and pulled a small talisman from her pocket and handed it to Fanboy, whose eyes began to glow a bright jade for but a brief second. An inscription on the medallion resembled a pot leaf.

"I have been waiting for you all of my life. The ancient prophecy of the Sevateem will finally come to fruition!"
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-06-11 04:02am


April 30th, 1945

Berlin, Germany

Deep within his bunker, Adolf Hitler waited patiently, although his beloved capital of Berlin was under attack, there were still many German Superweapons that he could deploy at his leisure. The jet powered Aryan Flamethrower brigades, the Massive tanks the size of large buildings, and the marxist seeking rockets were but a few of the advanced weaponry that the Russians and Americans would face as the entered the perimeter of the city. All Hitler had to do was wait for the right moment and use his personal key to unleash the machines.

Feeling relaxed, and far more stable than his inner circle gave him credit for, Hitler calmy strode into the small bondage room in the Bunker where he recieved his daily schtuping.

Although Hitler saw the irony in being the man who condemned thousands of homosexuals to die while he himself enjoyed having his rectum plugged with a large Austrian piece of Sausage named Bruno. But Adolf had attributed the schtupings had to his early political success and decided to continue them in secret as he rose to power and began prosecuting his great war of revenge. Bruno had just finished strapping the now nude Fuhrer to the table and had begun preparing him with the barrell of an emptied Luger when the door burst open and two men speaking a version of English that to Adolf sounded horribly bastardized. The two men, wearing what appeared to be fine suits immediately began exchanging money and suddenly Hitler no longer felt relaxed.

Seconds earlier...

Faleknhorst and Sheppard casually walked over to the antechamber that Sheppard had told Falkenhorst about on their way to 1945. They had carefully stalked Hitler throughout the bunker and had reached the antechamber where Sheppard had claimed that Hitler recieved daily ass poundings.

"So Shep, what you're saying is that Hitler had some leathered up guy fuck him silly every day before breakfast?"

"Yeah, Something about his colon being too tight even by German standards, I dunno. Anyways I know this is true, I saw it in some classified files I stole on a job a long time ago." The latter part, at least, was a lie as Shep had garnered his information from the futuristic Wikipedia aboard the timeship, the same Wkipedia that the Academia Nut must have been using for references, because after a quick search for himself, he realized that incorrect spellings and information in the Wikipedia articles were what caused the Nut to call Shep and Falk, "Fhep and Salk".

"I don't buy it. That's just too fucked up even for a cowardly shithead like Hitler."

"Care to wager fifty bucks on that?"

"Oh you're on dickweed."

Falkenhorst, eagerly awaiting his fifty dollar victory bet, kicked open the door to the antechamber and within five seconds began reaching for his wallet. Both men averted their eyes as quickly as possible, but neither men were prepared for the raw sight of one of Earth's most reviled dictators taking it in the ass from a leather clad bondage gimp whose mask was sealed over his mouth via zipper.

"Motherfucker." Falk exclaimed as he passed Shep a fifty dollar bill. "That was just revolting, and I once spent an entire week producing Piss Fetish and Coprophilia movies for the Nausicaan porn market."

"If it makes you feel any better, we can go double or nothing on if Henry VIII was fatter than Taft."

"Deal." Falkenhorst looked back over one last time at Hitler, taking the time to shoot Bruno in the back of the head and wince as the bullet tore through the large Nazi's mask and cranium, casuing his lifeless body to fall forwards on Hitler, who squealed like a dying mongoose, quaking with fear and stuttering in German.

He scrambled to his feet. The Americans had learned his secret, and there was no telling how many people they might tell. Eternal Glory at the head of his German Empire meant nothing if everyone thought he was queer. He decided to scrap the superweapons, and isntead move on to Plan B. Hopefully Evan Braun still had his female wardrobe and those capsules of cyanide...

June 7th, 1980

Boca Raton, Florida, U.S.A

Carl Spackler, the groundskeeper of Bushwood Country Club, was taking the time out of his day to enjoy a little harmless fantasy. After smoking what he described as a "fantastically humongous joint the size of a giraffe's neck", he teed up for a few practice drives at his secluded corner of the golf course.

"Cinderella story. Outta nowhere. A former greenskeeper, now, about to become the Masters champion. It looks like a mirac... It's in the h......what the hell?"

Suddenly, what appeared to be an oversized telephone booth of sorts materialized in the way of Spackler's drive. The ball careened off the side and shot towards a nearby fairay, striking an unaware club patron in the head and knocking him unconscious. From the doorway, A large man wearing a bloodstained hockey mask peered out. "You Carl Spackler?" He asked.

Unsure of what to say, but to high to really care. The greenskeeper nodded his head in the affirmative. The large man pumped his fist and motioned with his arm. "Get in, we just packed a fresh one."

Spackler stepped inside, thinking that he and whoever else was inside would be "hotboxing", but instead saw that the interior was spacious and stewn with junk food wrappers and pizza boxes from wall to wall. The biggest shock to his doped up system though were the five men seated on the circular couch that looked exactly like him. Carl stepped over and rubbed his hand against his forehead, wondering if he needed to curb his consumption, when a man in a brown jumpsuit with a crazy looking backpack started to pass him a three foot tall bong.

"Here you go handsome." Spackler's "twin" said.

"Much obliged." Carl responded as he inhaled deeply, taking an incredible hit into his lungs eliciting a cheer from the others. After he felt his world had been sufficiently rocked, he passed the bong to his left, towards a man in a light blue outfit with a red cap on his head.

"You're probably thinking to yourself right now, 'Damn I need to cut back', but trust me buddy, we all thought the same thing. This is about as real as it gets." The man stood, stumbling awkwardly as his balance escaped him. "Name's Venkman, Peter Venkman" he said as they shook hands. "You've met Mr. Zissou the oceanographer here, to his left is Private John Winger, US Army, Professional Bowler Ernie McCracken, and Actor Bill Murray."

"Wow," Carl muttered. "You're all so lifelike."

"Well we are alive." Zissou quipped. Now I know we've been having a lot of fun but as I recall we were all promised some money?"

"And money you shall have," the man in the hockey mask said. But first, I need to know if any of you are in posession of a green leaf shaped gem?"

Without taking the time to think about it, Each man reached into his pocket and procured a small green stone shaped like a leaf, within seconds the stones all began to glow brightly.

Fanboy pulled the medallion the red headed cokewhore, (now lost somewhere randomly in time after a tablet of bad acid had caused her to step out of the TARDASS during time travel because she thought there might be what she described as "pudding birds") had given him out of his pocket. It too was glowing, a bright golden color that resonated with the green stones.

"Sweeeeeet." He said.

"Hey, guy!" Yelled Bill Murray, "I mean thanks for the dank and all but, uhh remember you said something about money?"

"Oh right," Fanboy said. He opened the door to the TARDASS and peeked out in time, too stoned to full comprehend what he was seeing in the 4th dimsension and sparing what sanity he possessed. He spied his target, and then ran back over to the controls to angle for his attack.

November 24, 1971, The airspace between Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington, United States

Dan Cooper, leapt out of the plane, his $200,000 in cash clutched tightly up against him as he prepared to make his escape. It was a bold plan, but he had pulled it off, and he would finally have all the money he needed to import high-priced Communist Whores and cigars from Cuba, despite the U.S. Embargo.

But just as he began to deplouy his parachute, he was startled as a large, box like object began streaking toward him at high speed, with what appeared to be a man's arm hanging out of the window. The arm managed to grab hold of Cooper's suitcase full of money, with a few thousand dollars in bills spilling out as he wrestled to regain control. As he looked up he saw that the arm was attached to a grusesome looking man with a mask, who then used his other arm to punch Cooper in the face to wrestle the remaining cash into the box like ship. Cooper was helplessas as he was released from the man's grip by the punch and then caught in the wake of the box, which accidentally pulled him into the timestream.

He emerged in the future, surround by a cadre of robotic cylinders with crazy weapons, each of them breathing heavily like a fat man climbing a flight of stairs with a curly haired tiny man leading them. The curly haired dwarf moved toward him and sniffed him.

The Gnomified Fourth Doctor recognized the scent coming off of D.B. Cooper. The one that had stolen his time machine was responsible. Eager for more information, he motioned to the horde behind him.

"Take him to the master! He will want the information this one holds, then prepare him for gnomification."

"IN-SEM-IN-ATE, DINK DINK HAIL GNOMAGE" The cylinders cried out, as they dragged D.B Cooper away, no trace of him ever to be found again.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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