Date point: 9y 4m 2w BV (Really, that’s how long it’s been. This is looking like an awfully long haul to catch up)
The flight deck was frightfully empty. The industrial fabricators, normally required to construct only ten or twenty drop ships after any given battle, had never before been required to completely rebuild the 74th’s fleet of drop ships. That meant that the Corti light scout currently entering the Gurvix’s flight deck had the choicest pick of parking spaces. Even though the occupants of the small, agile ship were coming in answer to the request he had sent a ricata (1.5 weeks) ago, a part of Blatvec still wished he could have somehow magically filled every available landing space except the one furthest from the door. Then he could have arranged for a small malfunction in the environmental controls. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to have completely vented the atmosphere; maybe just make it a little thinner, and significantly colder.
The mechanical whir of an unloading ramp dragged him from his daydream. Shame, he didn’t often have many of those. A Corti, short, grey, and ugly, stepped onto his ship. If only the thing would wear shoes, but of course, most species didn’t wear cloths unless it was part of a uniform or out of practical necessity. It opened its mouth and spoke with the dry, snobbish tone which seemed an inborn trait as far as Corti were concerned.
“Colonel Blatvec, I presume?” It didn’t wait for his confirming grunt, “First and foremost I would like to congratulate you upon your most recent and deserved promotion. Your parental units must be so proud. My name is Dr. Triv. Now, would you be so kind as to inform me as to my purpose on this ship?”
Blatvec’s blood pressure increased alarmingly at the last question. Rather than shout, he dropped his voice to a low rumble, which only increased its threatening nature. “What do you mean you want me to ‘inform you as to your purpose’ on my ship? Our mutual friend sent you, didn’t he?”
Hands held in a gesture Blatvec’s translator informed him was placatory, Dr. Triv appeared more annoyed than anything by the Colonel’s quite anger. “Of course he did. Do you think I would just drop my research to traipse about the galaxy on a scenic tour of the Dominion’s finest collection of sweaty bodies for my own amusement? Our friend, however, is an orator of exemplary elegance, even by Corti standards, and subsequently is quite adept at making his listeners forget what he does not wish them to remember until after he has finished speaking. I had just agreed upon this little adventure when I realized he had failed to enlighten about its precise purpose, but rather only vague assurances as to its simplicity. His only distinct instructions were that I give you this upon my arrival. I’ve already read it, of course, but it told me nothing of why I am here; hence, my question.”
Blatvec took the proffered note from the Doctors hand in bemusement. “A message? On a physical medium?”
Triv gave his equivalent of a shrug, “He’s eccentric. If I recall correctly his love of the unique is what secured you the favor that resulted in my coming out here.”
“It was. Every day I hope that gricka I caught for him will use his face to sharpen its claws.” After reading the letter his desire for such an event to occur increased several times over.
Blatvec,
I am grieved to inform you that I was not able to procure your desired item by the previously agreed upon deadline; at least, in a manner which avoided negative impacts upon my health or livelihood. As I’m sure your every moment is consumed with concern for my well-being, I do not believe you will be unduly upset by this minor deviation from the established plan. I have not, however, left you with nothing, as I’m sure the deadline you set was for good reason. Therefore, I have sent my dearest of friends, Dr. Triv, to provide comparable services until your request can be safely obtained. Please try to keep him alive.
Blatvec finished reading and looked back up and the impatiently waiting Dr. Triv. “And you said you couldn’t determine your purpose for being here from this note? Even with all these words? Don’t Corti pride themselves upon being the some of the smartest, most observant and deductive fellows around?”
The Corti was not amused by his jibes. “Only the most intelligent, which is far from boast. And believe it or not ‘comparable services’ gives me little in the way of a hint as to what it is you need me for. Judging by the surrounding phrases, however, I have narrowed down the possibilities. I now believe you need me as a medical doctor or a prostitute.”
Blatvec gaged.
“Medical doctor, it seems.” Triv smiled in wry amusement.
“Actually, both your assumptions-” +Prostitute+ “-were wrong. We need a translator for someone who doesn’t have one, but I don’t know how you’re going to help.”
Triv sighed, “The Directorate desires that the existence of a particular cybernetic implant remain, if not completely secret, then at least discrete. At the rate we seem to be divulging the information, however, I don’t doubt it will soon become common knowledge.”
“Excuse me?” Blatvec asked, legitimately confused.
“Pay my mumblings no heed. I’m able to act as a translator through mere proximity so long as a species language has been properly documented by one of my kind. Do you perchance know what the species in question is called?”
“I don’t know about his species name, but his personal name is ‘Human’.”
Triv paused, “Human? You’re sure that is this being’s personal, given name? Because I there is also a species who call themselves ‘Human’ and they are not creatures I would enjoy encountering . . . again. Just to be sure, does this sophant for whom I am to translate happen to be a short specimen, with pale skin and mop of fur on top its head as well as some more on its arms and legs? More importantly does it seem possessed of combative abilities far beyond what its appearance would suggest?”
Happy that he was able to be the bearer of bad news for the Corti, Blatvec grinned as he spoke. “I couldn’t have given a more succinct or accurate description of Human myself, Dr. Triv.”
The annoyed expression which had graced the Doctor’s face since the beginning of the conversation had fallen into a mask of resignation. “I suppose it couldn’t possibly be any other particular human than the one from that Vzk’tk freighter crew, could it.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. Taking a steadying breath, he looked back to Blatvec. “I’d still rather deal with a Human than renege on my promise. Show me too him so I can stand there as a tragically overqualified transmitter.”
“I prefer the under-qualified ones that don’t regale me with their overbearing narcissism.”
“Why, Colonel,” Triv answered in mock surprise, “I never would have suspected you were possessed of such a vocabulary or wit! Please, don’t strain yourself too hard just to impress me.”
Blatvec tried to formulate a retort, but couldn’t think of anything other than short jokes. That translator couldn’t come fast enough.
After that it was a tense and silent walk from the flight deck to the partially enclosed area of the main troop bay that was used by Trxcl squad. Human was the only one there. Blatvec had ordered Trxcl squad to start training on the various weapons that were standard issue in the 74th. Human hadn’t joined them however. Not only because he currently didn’t seem to want to do anything, but because he was already far more accomplished warrior than most if not all in the entire division.
Human didn’t look up as he and the doctor approached. Blatvec looked in question to Triv to see if the translator was working. Triv confirmed it was, his lips pressed tightly together, eyes staring nihilistically at the figure on the bunk, face slumped with an even greater sense of resignation than before, if that was possible. The Colonol had neither the time nor the desire to care about the Corti’s discomfort or why Human had caused it. To ensure the full impact of his next sentence, he resorted to using the roaring bark of a voice he used for disciplinary speeches and raw recruits.
“YOU WILL STAND AT ATTENTION WHEN I ENTER, PRIVATE!” Triv winced at the volume, which Blatvec considered a complement, but it was nothing to Human’s reaction. Before Blatvec had even gotten a fourth of the way through his order the short alien jumped up from the bed while still in the lower bunk, slamming his head against the metal frame of the upper bunk – denting it considerably – then scrambling out in a flurry of action, only to end standing in a ridiculous posture with one of his hands held to his forehead.
It was undeniably a military attention stance, though unusual and sloppy. Blatvec forgot himself for a moment as the immediate question leapt to his lips. “Have you served in an army before?”
Human seemed relieved by the change of tone, visibly letting out an impressive quantity of air in a massive sigh, “No, sir, I just watched ‘Full Metal Jacket’ more times than was strictly healthy and it seemed the right thing to do. Do you mind if I ask you how it is you’re channeling R. Lee Ermey and speaking English, with a beautiful Midwestern accent I might add?”
Blatvec knew the translator was working, but aside from the fact that the answer had ultimately been “No” was unable to understand the rest of what Human had said. He had already taken a deep breath to tell Human it didn’t matter how they could suddenly understand each other when Human’s eyes – flaring with recognition – alight upon Dr. Triv.
“Dick, is that you? Don’t deny it it’s obviously you; why else would I be feeling such an overwhelming feeling that I’m in the presence of an asshole? You knew those Ant-Lizards would jump to light-speed the moment they realized their cover was blown, didn’t you? You wanted me to not come back from that fight. Bet you were thrilled that you killed two birds with one stone, weren’t you? Before I show you just how vulgar I can be when insulting someone in an immature manner, how are Mama, Dink, and the rest of the Blue-Giraffes?”
Blatvec had thought he had been confused before. He had been mistaken. Now he was confused. Dick? Why did he feel as though he was near an excremental orifice? Weren’t they all? What were “Ant-Lizards” and why were they under cover? How was the blowing of Ant-Lizard cover in any way related to the efficient killing of avians with rocks? Who were “Dink” or “Blue-Giraffes” and how were they connected to Human’s mother? He had thought a translator would provide an enlightening experience but so far it had only made things worse. Maybe there was a reason this creature had never had a translator.
He had forgotten what he had been about to say, and Dr. Triv spoke into the ensuing silence.
“It’s equally disappointing to see you again. I had thought I’d managed to rid the Directorate of a minor nuisance but it seems I was unsuccessful. As to your Vzk’tk friends, your parting gift was sufficient to discover the appropriate inoculations. They are healthy and left the facility a week or so ago. I assume by your unwelcome presence amongst the living that you were successful in what I sent you to do?”
Human scowled. A joviality which Blatvec only noticed through its absence drained from Human. He seemed to fold in upon himself, becoming even smaller than he already was. “Yes. Although I don’t know if I should have.”
Blatvec had long ago given up any pretense of actually following the conversation, and hoped Triv could answer coherently for him. Thankfully, he did.
“ ‘Should have’? What do you mean?”
Now Human was glaring at the doctor in a way that even Blatvec was happy he wasn’t the one speaking.
“I mean, I just let you point me at some aliens, say ‘kill’, and I just went without a word! Sure, you gave me a reason that made it sound like the right thing to do, but I didn’t know if you were telling the truth. All I had as evidence was a dead Ant-Lizard and your word that he was trying to overthrow the government and that a groupe of his buddies were hanging right outside the station. For all I knew they could have been a supply ship and you had told them to wait there and Ant-Lizard Shifty just decided to go bat-shit crazy at that same time. Heck, you could have even ordered Shifty to do what got him killed. The point is I didn’t think; I just pulled out the ol’ lava sword and went to work. Just started killing beings, people, without even taking a moment to wonder if I should. What kind of monster does that? I’d call myself a phsyco or a sociopath except I can’t quite remember the technical definitions for them, but I’m pretty sure you’re a messed up dude if you think one of them should apply to you.”
Triv tried to ask Human to stop shouting, but couldn’t stem the flow of words.
“And now it’s even worse! Now I don’t even have you to give me a reason for what I’ve been doing for this past however-long-I’ve-been-in-this-fucking-army period of time. I just have a hope I made up entirely in my head that one day I might be able to get home if I stay here long enough, which is apparently enough for me to unburden myself of my weak and dying conscience so I can go chop some more people up. I’ve even made a game out of it; seeing how many I can take out before my squad manages to pommel someone’s shield down. What’s worse, I usually manage to go for about a half an hour before they even manage their first kill. It’s like the moment I realized I was so powerful up here I said ‘Alright! Now I can live all the sick twisted fantasies I’ve always had about recreating the carnage of World War One!’ The truth of what I was doing hadn’t even entered my slow mind until I was confronted face-to-face with my actions. I used to be fine with being this army’s bulldozer, but I’m not anymore. If you want me to keep fighting, then you’re going to have to tell me what it is I’ve been fighting for that could possibly justify the grief I’ve already caused to people.”
A ringing silence followed Human’s speech. A shuffle from behind alerted Blatvec to the crowd that had gathered behind him and Dr. Triv, drawn toward the yelling. With a sharp gesture he dismissed the spectators. Triv once again answered. “Wait, you’re not angry with the fact that you’re killing sapient beings, but rather that you’re doing it without a good enough reason to ease you guilty conscience?” a wheezing chuckle rose from somewhere in Triv’s chest. “For a moment I thought were becoming the first of your kind to see your own savagery, but instead you’re just angry someone took your little lie away from you.”
“Savagery?”
Blatvec could tell the Corti’s words were doing nothing to calm Human, but the little grey being continued implacably.
“Savagery.” Triv spat, as though delivering a verdict. “Have you ever been on another planet? Another cradle world of another species? I suppose not. At least, not without simultaneously being the one destroying it. I’ll tell you what they’re like without all the fire and rubble. Compared to Earth, every one of them is a study in what one of your kind called ‘Utopian Society’. Calm and peaceful compromises solve disputes, and the only violence committed is done in ignorance or by accident. Then look at your world. Countless starve because the wealthy can’t be bothered to give a tenth of what’s on their table to those who need it for survival. You ravage, murder, maim, and ruin each other with such zeal that it comes as a surprise to you when someone shows you kindness! You’re history is marred by countless wars. World War? One?! The only thing you Humans are able to efficiently coordinate between each other is warfare! You are a disease to this galaxy, and abominations that will surely bring-”
Triv was cut off as his airway was forcibly closed due to existing between Human’s hand and the nearest wall.
“I decided to stop you right there because I didn’t want you to drown in your own bullshit,” Human growled, his nose nearly touching the Corti’s bulge of an equivalent. “Not because you don’t deserve it, but because I and my squad have to sleep here and I didn’t want the smell. ‘Utopian society’? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve only been with three groups of aliens so far and in each one I’ve found the exact same problems we have back on Earth. I’ve stopped a kidnapping/piracy, alleged development of a galactic super-bioweapon, and been stuck in a full blown war! Does that sound Utopian to you? And what about you Yodas? Abducting pre-contact world species so you can do whatever the fuck you want with them without legal crap getting in the way? You’re no less savage than any Human, you just suck at effectively executing it. I’m not naïve enough to believe that some people don’t need to be stopped, and sometimes that means killing, like those blue-giraffe pirates, or that ant-lizard, and even you seem like the kind of guy to drown a box of puppies. But I can’t just keep killing those who get in my way because it’s convenient and expedient. That’s the difference between being a savage and being a sophant in a realistic galaxy. The difference is knowing when to kill, and when to stop. I’ve just stopped. I’ll keep killing, but only if it’s for the right reason. So I ask again. What have I been fighting for?”
Blatvec quickly answered. “Before we proceed I would suggest you stop choking Dr. Triv. He doesn’t have much of a lung capacity, and he seems to be turning a bluer shade of grey than is normal. It’s not that he doesn’t deserve it, but if he dies I’ll have a rather angry friend and, more importantly, the translator will stop working.”
“Oh! Right, sorry, forgot he’s the translator.” Triv dropped to the floor, gasping.
“Now that we won’t be interrupted, Triv if you could kindly keep your mouth shut for the rest of this meeting. Honestly, I’ve seen some Corti with messed up delusions, but you just topped the list,” turning to Human he continued, “I for one completely agree with you. I wouldn’t want you in my army if you were here just for the sake of killing. That’s for the Hunters to do and the rest of us to hate. As much as I want you to stay in the 74th you can leave if you don’t like what I’m about to tell you. Our enemy, the Celzi, is attempting to secede from the Dominion, in whose army you fight. If I were to give my complete and unbiased opinion, I couldn’t tell you which side is in the right. The Celzi pulled some dubious maneuvers to get where they are today, and no one will pretend that part – if not a good portion of the reason they want to secede – is based off greed or dreams of future conquests, but the Dominion hasn’t exactly been innocent either. Several of the reasons the Celzi used as excuses to seceding were dead on, like how the Corti Directorate has made it so their abductions go unpunished and unhindered, or why no one has taken any serious measures to stop the Hunters, or the blatant corruption and under-the-table deals that go on between its representatives. I’m not going to pretend I understand half of the political mish-mash that’s going on, but I can tell you for sure that the Dominion’s far from perfect. I personally feel that the lesser of the two evils is the Dominion, which is why I’m commanding the 74th instead of performing border patrols. I think the Dominion, as corrupt and dysfunctional as it is, still keeps the peace between the multitudes of species in the Galaxy better than having two multi-member governmental entities would. I’m fighting now because I think by stopping the Celzi here, I can stop future wars from happening. I might be wrong, but I’ve made my decision and so I’m acting on it.”
Blatvec waited. And continued waiting. How long would Human consider? Normally, Blatvec would tell him to take his time and talk to him when he came to a decision, but Human looked so lost in thought he felt an answer was imminent. Then Human spoke.
“Honestly, I’ve just been standing here blanking out. I heard what you said, but I’m crap at thinking while standing still. Usually when I can’t keep ignoring a problem and have to think it through, I go and find a pickup soccer game at the local indoor field house, but I don’t think that’ll work out here. Even if I managed to teach you guys how to play, the number of broken bones would be substantial, and from what I’ve seen of your kicks, the ball would have difficulty moving about the field. I’ll probably just jog. That’s worked sometimes.”
“You’re not dismissed, Private.” Blatvec snapped, grabbing Human’s arm as he pushed aside to start jogging who knew where. “As it so happens, we recently received a shipment of experimental combat exo-suits of considerable strength. They, in fact were made to allow a single soldier to be capable of bringing down a Vulza. The men chosen to be the drivers are getting used to the way they feel right now. If you need to play a physical sport, then I think we have just the thing to make sure our best soldiers are worthy opponents.
Dear Journal,
Sorry for being away for so long,
But I think I’ve just stopped myself from becoming the bad guy,
We’ll see.
In other news, Xeno hulk-suit dodgeball is awesome.
I’m not going to lie, it was great to hear intelligible voices once again, but as I followed Blatvec to where ever he was leading me that contained things that turned spindle-limbed aliens into worthy soccer opponents, I realized that sometimes unrecognizable garble can be nice. Walking through the crowd that always filled the troopship, background noise which had always been easy to ignore suddenly became unavoidably loud. It made it hard to think, even in the simplest ways. I walked up the Dick, who backed away upon my approach. I jumped next to him, and he nearly fell over, but now he couldn’t pretend to ignore me as I was practically on top of him.
“You’re able to turn off your translator, right?”
“Yes,” he virtually spat.
“If you wouldn’t mind. Just be sure to turn it back on if someone tries to talk directly to me.” If looks could kill. Still, the conversations that were demanding my attention suddenly snapped out of English, and I back into sweet, sweet ignorance. If I ever had one of those translators installed, I’d make sure they made mine with an on/off switch if they didn’t come with one already.
Surrounded in the silence created by my ignorance, I thought back to what Captain Demon Dude had said. He had been fair. He hadn’t sugar-coated or hyped his side, but had been honest and level-headed. He explained his reasons for fighting, and they were good. My thoughts almost lead me down a path of a political argument to attempt to judge whether or not the Dominion should be allowed to remain or torn down and rebuilt, but I quickly stopped that line of thought. Not only did I have nowhere near enough information as to the situation, but I’m not very politically minded. That and I hate political arguments due to the overwhelming amount bullshit most usually create out of nothing.
But if I couldn’t reasonably consider which side was the better to fight for in the political sense, then how would I decide?
Demon Dude interrupted my thoughts as his English speaking voice tore through my simple thoughts. “Here they are. What do you think?” My mind snapped into awesome mode and I thought what I saw was awesome! Twenty xenos stood in front of me in some of the coolest armor I’d ever seen. Each in a suit that had been built specifically for their size and species, the troopers was clad in an armor composed of bone-white armor plates covering bulging black mechanical muscles underneath.
They honestly looked like muscles, rather than the usual motors I would have expected. If it wasn’t for the fact that no alien had arms that size, or that the driver’s head could be seen nestled between each suits’ massive shoulder blades rather than above them, I would have though twenty white and black Hulks stood before me, albeit Hulks with incredibly tiny heads and no necks, but Hulk bodies all the same.
Apparently my face said it all, because Demon Dude smiled in satisfaction. “Now, how do you play this ‘soccer’ game?”
“It takes some getting used to. I could teach it to you now and I doubt any of you would pose a serious challenge, not because I’m amazing, but because you guys just aren’t used to the basic mechanism of the game. I have another idea for a game, though, and its just as fun.”
A short trip to the Alien 3D printer, and we had ourselves some Xeno dodgeballs. They weren’t quite made out of the same material, but it had been the closest as far as weight and texture were concerned, so I figured they’d suffice. When I showed my creations to Demon Dude, who had stayed behind to mark off the field in the way I had specified, he looked at the balls in confusion.
“Are we playing in the dark?”
“Huh?”
“The balls. You made them out of an extremely efficient phosphorescent material used in landing markers for operations during the night. They’ll glow brightly for several hours before they’ll need to be recharged with light again. We can do it, the suits have external lights for visibility and augmented vision, I just wasn’t aware this game was played without lights. I’ll have to remark the field so the lines can be seen.”
I considered telling him of why I had chosen that particular material for the dodgeballs, but then realized that I would be getting in the way of Xeno-hulk-combat-suit-glow-in-the-dark-dodgeball! I followed Demon dude and printed out myself a headband, armbands, ankle-bands, and sash of the same stuff so I could be seen as well. When all the parts were assembled, I explained the rules. Suffice it to say, it was received with some incredulity.
“You’re joking, right?” Hulk-1 asked. “This is definitely some kind of sick joke, right? Right?”
“Nope, no joke.”
Hulk-2 took up the question, “You’re trying to tell us that your species has a game where you line yourselves up and then chuck balls as hard as you physically can with the intention of hitting each other? For fun?!”
“Yup.”
“Are you insane?” Hulk-2 looked like he was going to lose it pretty soon.
“That’s not even the worst of our games. We used to play a game where two guys got on horses . . . uh . . . really big animals you can ride that can run up to 40-48 km/h, put a little distance between each other, then made the horses sprint straight at the other while the guys on top tried to throw the other off his horse with a really long pole by ramming it really hard into their opponent’s chest as he rode by, and vice versa. It’s not really played much anymore, but it was all the rage some centuries past.”
Hulk-2 looked ready to vomit, and Hulk-1 didn’t look very healthy either. In fact, Hulk-3 through Hulk-20 seemed to be in similar states. Guess I should be happy I hadn’t gone with gladiator fights, MMA, or hockey. Yeah, definitely should have done hockey. Ah well, guess I’ll leave the explanation of that one for a later date.
“So as you can see dodgeball really isn’t all that bad!” My enthusiasm did not seem to be as contagious as it usually was. I’m sure they’d perk up once the game started. Demon Dude stepped in.
“If you don’t want to think of this as the fucked up game that it is, remember this is a combat training exercise.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll remove myself to a safe distance.” I’d forgotten Triv was still here.
Apparently a “safe distance” was far enough away so he couldn’t hear me, and therefore translate. I didn’t mind though, dodgeball wasn’t a sport where you needed communication. With Triv gone questions weren’t really an option, so our teams took the field. Demon Dude had his own hulk-suit, and took the opposing side with the odds. I got the evens. Great, Hulk-2.
The lights went off, and I started the game with a yell, both sides charging to the pile of glowing ammunition in the center of the court. The hulk-suits were definitely hulk-sized but I seemed to be the only one that realized that before it was too late. The heavy-shouldered dodgeball enthusiasts, unable to control their overwhelming love of the game, collided spectacularly in one big clusterfuck in the middle. Despite the colossal noise of colliding hulk-suits, I could only see the pilot lights on their arms, legs, and chests, making the scene unfold in a confusing swirl of individual star-points like a visible-light video of an Angler fish orgy.
More because of the general mayhem of the situation than because of anyone actually rolling the glow-balls back towards their side, the shots were dispensed randomly about the court. As I wasn’t trying to untangle myself from a hulk-mosh-pit, I was the first to fire off an orb. It hit one of the red lights of the other team, and their suit registered a hit. Soon, streaks of flying orbs filled the dark abyss. The theme from Tron had started playing in my head.
I soon fell into the rhythm and peaceful calm my mind always entered when playing a game. Life and death and situations had a tendency to command my attention, but a game, I tended to drift. It seemed so easy to think; my thoughts the clearest they had been for what seemed an eternity. With that clarity, came the best answer I had come up with yet (yes, it was also the only answer I’d come up with so far).
Hulk-2 was still alive, but I think it was an accident on his part. He looked like he was trying to get hit, almost throwing himself in the way of incoming ammunition, but usually only managing to trip and throw another teammate into the shot instead. He had probably gotten more kills for the other team then they had. He tried the same stunt with me, but I jumped out of the way, allowing him the sweet release of dodgeball death he had been craving for so long.
I didn’t know enough about this war, and I doubted I ever would. In the end, I had a feeling it would always look morally ambiguous, with both sides presenting equal claims to the moral high and low. Ultimately, it wasn’t my fight, and from what I’d seen of the galaxy, there were plenty of fights that were far less morally conflicting. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I could at least say that I didn’t want to be in the army anymore. I’d find another cause, one I knew was worth fighting for. Heck, I’d make a bigger difference doing stuff up here than I ever would have back on Earth.
The Culling was almost over. The dead from both sides lay strewn across the field of play. I guess I forgot to tell them to get off once they were hit. It didn’t matter though; this just added tripping hazards, which made it more intense. The few remaining on each team were obviously skilled, and several strikes required me to pull off some stunning acrobatics that would have resulted in a cracked skull and a cracked spine if I ever tried them on Earth. A well timed fastball from yours truly knocked the second to last guy down on the opposing team, which left the final showdown between me and random conglomeration of floating red lights Alpha. Despite the lack of evidence, I had a feeling it was Demon Dude.
That was actually a really good point. I could make a bigger difference out here. I could actually do something with my life that I had never had the opportunity to do before. I was a monster, yes, but as with the blue-giraffe pirate raid, I could be a good monster. Back on Earth, I was just a loser who was so good at running from his problems he’d ended up abducted by aliens. I found my desire to return to Earth waning. After all, I still had to meet up with Mama, Dink, and the rest if for no other reason than to say hi.
Demon Dude was a cheater. He had turned off his external lights, and I only knew where he was when an orb of light suddenly decided to hurl itself at me. Gosh darn it, I bet he kicked that one. I could play dirty too, and I tore off my glowing apparel and blended into the night that was only punctuated by glowing orbs and the dark patches of the fallen. I hid behind one such felled compatriot, clutching an orb I had snatched from the ground close to my chest and against the body of my teammate so its light wouldn’t show.
Then I waited. Waited for something, anything, to flash through the light of an orb. A patch of white, and I fired, whipping my glowing orb with victorious glee at the figure I’d seen momentarily illuminated by the light. The resounding thwack of a ball hitting hulk-armor echoed through the court. The lights turned on, and the sleeping hulks began to awaken. A pity, they had looked so peaceful, lying there on the floor.
It had been Demon Dude, and we walked up to me with a grin. “Cthfji woi xccqi plak okoonixqi-”
“What?”
He gave something behind me the death stare. With an audible sigh, Triv stood from where he had been cowering behind some crates and got within translator range. Demon Dude tried again.
“Excellent shot. Sorry about turning off the lights, but I really wanted to say I beat you. Have you made your decision, or shall we play another round?”
“I don’t think Hulk-2’s nerves can handle another round. However yes, I’ve made my decision.” Turning to Triv, I asked him my next question. “So, where could I go about finding a certain cargo ship full of blue-giraffes?”