UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC II
CHAPTER THREE: VIOLENCE A LA CARTE
Independent Space Station Astra Vegas, Executive Lounge
As he gathered his weapons, including an old Smith & Wesson .500 he had received as a birthday gift from his dear grandmother, Falkenhorst heard the communication from Nog.
”Boss we got problems!”
“What is it now Nog, you can’t wait ten minutes for me to get down there are cradle you and those nutsacks Shep hired to crew my fucking ship?”
”Sir, some guys just showed up out of nowhere, black jumpsuits and stupid looking turtlenecks! All carrying phaser rifles! They’re all human…I think it’s Section 31!”
Falkenhorst spit and finished loading the revolver, it wasn’t ideal for a gunfight but Falkenhorst learned from experience that stopping power was more important in the kind of firefights he ended up in, where some fucked up mutated creature could crawl out of the sewer at any moment and try to take his ass cherry. Plus, if Data showed up, that 500 S&W had the best chance of making a dent in his metallic ass.
“Nog are you alone right now?”
”Yeah, The Harrys are still loading all that shit into the cargo bay.” I only saw these guys because I was having a smoke near the bridge and saw them beam aboard.”
“Ok good, listen, I don’t give a single fuck about those turkey teats. You get as many of those meatshields in between you and those fuckin’ commandos as possible. They will gut your ass, no questions asked. One last thing, I know right now you’re probably pissing your goddamn pants…literally…but you need to resist screaming like a chickenshit when you book it for the back end. I’ll be there in five minutes, FIVE FUCKIN’ MINUTES. Do you hear me?”
The corridors of the Asskicker, leading away from the bridge
Nog ran as fast as he could, his piss stained trousers only slightly slowing him down, his fist tightly in his mouth as he sprinted, his sharp teeth drawing blood. As he rean he passed by two of the Harry Kims.
“Hey Nog! Thanks again for saving us, I thought nobody would ever find us!” one of them said. “Oh look, you pee your pants and random unprompted intervals too just like us!”
Nog didn’t break stride as he kept running, the smell of piss wafting behind him hit the nose of the two Harry Kims and “reminded” them of their time on Voyager (from the original Harry Kim’s memory implanted within them), where everything smelled like stale piss and unwashed crotch.
Unfortunately for the clones they broke their concentration in front of them for a second to watch Nog run, allowing a pair of Section 31 operatives to move in close undetected. Harry Kim #1 never stood a chance as an operative jabbed forward crushing his larynx, and Kim #2 has his lower jaw pinned to the roof of his mouth as a knife went under his chin and straight upwards, the point ending up in his sinus cavity.
Harry Kim #1’s cry for help failed as his crushed voice box sputtered and gave in, while a gloved hand palmed the back of his skull like a basketball, and a split second later his forehead was shoved as hard as it could into the nearby bulkhead, shattering it into an untold number of pieces and causing shards of bone to embed into the brain. Slumping to the floor, a quick boot to the back of the skull further smashed Harry Kim #1’s skull into an unrecognizable pulp.
“I think those guys were the same guy,” commented one of the operatives.
The other knelt down and scanned one of the corpses. “They are the same guy, and this guy happens to have a warrant on him.”
“Fuckin’ kidding me? Are we going to catch shit for not bringing him in?”
“Nah, these guys are both clones, apparently this is Harry Kim, and he was one of those fucks on Voyager. If it was the real one he would have at least sixteen different signs of radiation poisoning we can’t even begin to identify, plus the blood plasma is Wal Mart brand and his muscles are 15% ammonium hydroxide.”
The standing operative furrowed his brow in disgust. “They use pink slime in fuckin’ clones?”
“Not all clones, just the fuckin’ bargain bin underground ones you’d find in the back of a van in Tijuana.” Slapping his communicator, he alerted the rest of his team. “Look alive everyone, the ship is active, no witnesses protocols are active, don’t let them get between you and the computer core.”
An abandoned room, somewhere aboard the Asskicker
The sounds of battle and danger were muffled and distant in this sealed off section of the ship, once used for crew quarters but abandoned almost entirely in order to avoid costly repairs for the life support system. An assortment of vermin had somehow managed to use what little breathable atmosphere remained and had exacerbated the already considerable damage from neglect.
One of the rooms still had contents from the mercenary known as Darth Fanboy, long since dead, an old bong lay cracked on its side next to a mattress that lay directly on the floor. Though it had not been smoked in years, a vaporous cloud began to stir from within the chamber, growing in size as the violence in other parts of the ship began to intensify…
Outside of the Asskicker's Main Engine Room
Harry Kim #14 and #15 charged at their opponents, a pair of section 31 operatives who stood at the ready, not wanting to damage the precious data in the fragile antiquated computer cores, the Section 31 operatives made the decision to engage the unarmed Harry Kims by hand. AS the two Kims charged simultaneously it was easy to see that they were not experienced fighters as both clones swung wildly hoping for a miracle rather than relying on any sort of technique.
As Kim #14 raised his hands high he was struck true in the solar plexus by a closed fist, which bent him over causing him to puke all over the floor in front of him. Kim #15 swung his arm in a wide arc that was easily caught by the operative he was trying to punch, the operative broke #15’s arm so badly that a sharp shard of bone protruded. Wasting little time, he grabbed the broken arm and used the emerged bone as a weapon, plunging the sharp end into the back of Harry Kim #14’s neck and severing the spinal cord. Kim #15 fell along with his fallen comrade, only to have his testicles completely smashed with a thick soled boot. The other attacker then reached down and snapped his neck.
“That was uncharacteristically merciful of you there Ted,” using the prearranged codename.
“Well Fred it’s starting to get a little boring; this is the third pair of these dumbasses we’ve left in pieces. Who knows how many more there are?” Ted activated his communicator to signal the operation leader. “Ned, this is Fred and Ted, we’ve reached what we think is where the main computer core should be located, ready to begin data download.”
”Roger, once you finish make your way back to the bridge of the ship, we’ll bug out with the Starfleet ship coming to tow this junk heap.”
“Copy Ned, Fred and Ted out.”
Fred and Ted opened the door to the computer room, thinking that the mission could not get any easier, unfortunately they were right.
Most modern starships relied on a complex computer system in order to maintain function, store data, and perform complex operations that would normally require an army of technicians and engineers just for normal use. Complex computers were simply what made starships possible. Somehow, whoever redesigned this ship had decided that two hundred years of conventional engineering was either too boring or too expensive.
In the corner, there was on old man flipping through a dog eared porn magazine, printed tangible material was rare in this part of space, so he was obviously well travelled. An empty bottle of hooch…actually several bottles…littered the floor in his general vicinity.
“Step outside,” he cautioned. “these old D7’s aint bein the place for wee laddies.”
Ted stepped forward, but Fred held up an arm to hold him back. “Do I know you from somewhere old man?”
The hold man’s chest sighed, in his late age he didn’t much care for the recognition he got since he had retired from the adventurous part of his life a couple of years prior.
“You might there son, but I’m not going to be talking about it right now. I’m jes trying ta have a little me time.”
Fred stepped closer. “Yeah…yeah you’re Montgomery Scott aren’t you, you’re like a living legend!”
Scotty sighed, he had joined Sheppard’s crew in an effort to preserve his anonymity, and somehow his Federation past kept creeping up behind him. “Congratulations, ye got me. Now piss off before I lay a beatin’ on you and have you loadin the back end of yer trousers there.”
Asskicker main transporter room
Falkenhorst beamed aboard the Asskicker for the first time in over five years, and what he saw disgusted him. Sitting in the corner in a pile of broken glass and petrified feces was a skeleton, gnawed on by vermin but with a jacket somewhat intact, a nametag still visible saying “Hi my name is…Consequences.”
”Well so much for my old’ fucking transporter mechanic. What else did you royally fuck up Shep?”
As he finished his musing he could hear sobbing and whimpering from behind the console that was unmistakably Ferengi. “Nog get your ass out of there it’s just me.”
Nog crawled out considerably relieved, both because he had an ally and because he had relieved himself yet again, filling his pants with a load of particularly foul and sloppy diarrhea. Falk nearly gagged and then silently cursed at himself.
”Am I getting that soft from living the good life that I can’t even tolerate one stank ass pair of shitty pants?” No time to worry about that now…”
“Boss!” Bog yelped, “I’m glad you’re here, it’s a goddamned massacre out there!
Falk opened the door expecting an exaggeration, but Nog’s description was eerily accurate. The assorted corpses of various Harry Kims were strewn about, and all of them beaten to death in some form. Looking towards the end of the hall, Falk saw a pair of Federation goons working a Harry Kim over, taking turns kicking him in the ribs in an attempt to gain information. Eventually, one of them men used his thumbs to pop both of the Kim’s eyes leaving him screaming on the floor in a dying panic.
Eyeing the situation, Falkenhorst realized they weren’t using the phaser rifles Nog said they had been carrying and correctly surmised that they didn’t want to risk a catastrophic explosion that exotic energy signatures from weapons might cause. Bullets didn’t have that restriction though. Aiming his 500 S&W carefully, he fired. The target’s head burst like a melon, shards of skull, grey matter, and flesh covered the area. His partner reacted quickly, diving behind a nearby corner.
Falkenhorst went to pursue, and then paused for a second knowing that there could be more of them waiting to jump him if he ran blindly around the corner. Briefly he considered sending Nog to go look for him, but the little peckerhead was too good of an accountant and not even Falk was able to keep track of his numerous hidden accounts throughout space, an important tax dodge. Although his opponents were still section 31, they were also still Starfleet, which led Falk to believe he could roll the dice a little bit.
He aimed his weapon down the corridor again and swore as loud as he could. “FUCK! I’m glad that guy ran away, that was my only shot!” Hoping that his foe’s unfamiliarity with his weapon and underestimation of his battle prowess would work against him, and it did. Chargin back around the corner, the Section 31 operative was running as fast as he could to avenge his friend, only to take a .50 cal bullet to his chest, which exploded in a fountain of gore.
“Well…fuck I can’t believe that worked.” Falk said as he stepped through the carnage with Nog close behind.
Asskicker main engine room, central computer room, and breakroom for one Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott…
Ted was not impressed. “Hey look I don’t care who you are you fat old fuck or what you’re doing in here with this goddamn mess but…”
His speech was interrupted when Scotty, moving unnaturally quick for an obese elderly gentleman stood up from his chair and slapped Ted right across the face, and then grabbed him by the shirt collar. “I been wipin’ tougher shite than you from between my butt cheeks since befarr yer grandpappy was a tadpole swimming up your granny’s foul odiferous cunt! Now get the fook out of my engine room before I finish the job.”
Fred attempted to diffuse the situation; obviously the old man was not going to be as big of a pushover as the Harry Kim clones.
“Look, just let us have access to the computer core and we’ll let you get back to” he glanced over at the skin mag on the floor, much to his disgust “…Geriatric Juggs”
Scott considered the option for a moment and started laughing. You want access to the computer? Well why didn’t you fookin’ say so? It’s right over there on the table, haven’t got much of a use for it myself but you’re welcome to it.
Relieved, Fred and Ted looked in the direction that Scotty pointed, but didn’t see the computer at first. There was just an old table with something on it, a box with plastic casing that looked like a viewscreen and a push button keyboard straight out of a museum.
“What the fuck kind of game is this?” Ted demanded.
“What y’ve nevair ‘eard of a Macintosh? Amazing computer in ‘er day. Brought her back with me during a whale watching trip….oohhh…a few hundred years ago. ‘Sides this ship uses real honest to goodness engines, none a that automated crap I manage ‘er joost fine. I play Oregon trail on that thing daering me downtime. This ship doesn’t keep records or unything fancy like that.”
Ted was furious, and turned around. “That fucking thing doesn’t have the computing power to process one of my farts you sad sack of crap! I let you surprise me earlier but I will beat you so hard that….”
“Careful laddy,” Scotty said with a playful grin on his face. “I know ye could probly take me down in a fair fyte. But do you really be thinkin’ I didn’t smack you like that without a plan now?”
Scotty reached into his pocket and procured a blunt that would have made 21st-22nd century hip-hop star Snoop Dogg blush. “Which remoinds me, it’s tyme fahr my glaucoma medicine.” Ted and Fred looked on as Scotty procued a lighter and lit the tightly rolled marijuana cigar, drawing deeply and creating puffs of smoke which began filling the air around Scott quicker than seemed possible.
After a few dumbfounded seconds Fred and Ted realized that more smoke was pouring into the room, enhancing the effect, until a seven foot tall apparition was directly between them and Scotty, composed of the smoke and creating a half-opaque grey limbless form. Without warning two emerald lights that looked like eyes bore down on them, and the two men were frightened, smoke from the ghosts “shoulders” reached out as tendrils of ephemeral doom and the two men tried to escape but down not, the smoke entered their whole body and paralyzed them, but without the intoxicating effect to at least make it enjoyable. The apparition now had a presence inside the lungs of the two men, and in an instant he superheated the gases within. The two men tried to scream but could not as their lungs were rapidly incinerated by unholy energies they could not hope to understand, and the heat from within caused the bone and flesh containing the frying organs to smolder and burn.
The two men collapsed in a heap, their charred remains crumbled into a pile. Fred and Ted were dead.
Scotty looked down through the crowd, while taking another hit and coughing mercilessly.
“Aye, I be owing you one. This old man can’t handle too much of tha good smoke anymore, why don’t you finish it?” Scotty said as he handed the blunt to the phantom, who quickly consumed it causing green energy flickers from within his form.
“Much as I’d like to finish reading my titty mag, I think it best we go find out what has ben happenin Mistair Sheppard.” From his pocket opposite from where he was keeping his pot, Scotty procured a necklace with an ornately decorated medallion, with green jewels creating an impeccable marijuana plant. He put it around his neck, “In ya go fahr now me boy.”
The mysterious entity condensed into a small wisp of smoke and somehow entered the jewels on the medallion, where Scott would keep it until needed.
"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.