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.
LOVE GUNS 4 SIDE STORY
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?'
"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?"
"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?"
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.
"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.