Apolyton Wars - A new story adventure

[Felch]

Is Yoda Zylka or ottok? I think a convincing case can be made for either.

[Jules]

Back to New Dallas. DR is in his office with another Wild Turkey on the rocks in his hand. His feet are comfortably propped up on the desk, revealing a fine pair of crocodile-skin cowboy boots with diamond-studded spurs. He's consulting with Colonel jimmytrick, acting leader of the Intergaylactic Evil Capitalist Conservatives Clan (IECCC for short), via a flaming-space videolink:

DR: Can I count on your support, Colonel?

jimmytrick: The IECCC will sign your treaty.

DR: Good. And our friends from the Mercantilist Confederation have also pledged their support. When we combine their capital with ours, the Empire will be overwhelmed.

jimmytrick: Has Gian Carlo learned anything about the Resistance yet?

DR: (frowning) Not yet. We're still waiting on Albert Speerwalker and company. I wish those blasted screenwriters would hurry up! What do you know of these rebels, Colonel?

jimmytrick: (pausing thoughtfully) They do have one leader that I'm aware of, a former drifter if I recall--Mono Solo. Does that name mean anything to you, DR?

DR: Doesn't ring a bell. Of course, I'm new to this part of the Gaylaxy. (chuckles, then takes another swig from his Wild Turkey) Have you received that shipment of moisture vaporators and power reactors that I authorized yet?

jimmytrick: (smiles) Yes, they arrived in excellent condition this morning. Payment upon delivery, just as we agreed. We'll have our infrastructure upgraded in no time.

DR: Pleasure doing business with you, Colonel, as always. And give my regards to your Chairman DinoDoc. I hope he's feeling better soon.

jimmytrick: (chuckles) Oh, he's not really sick. We toppled him in a coup couple days ago. When President Starchild announced the Gaylactic Empire, the chairman went ballistic and wanted us to challenge the Imperials openly. Us military chiefs thought it'd be smarter to bring the system down from the inside, use our black ops capabilities and all that.

DR: Good thinking, Colonel! But you didn't kill the poor chairman I hope?

jimmytrick: Oh, no! We just sent him into exile, that's all. Last I heard, he hooked up with a Resistance cell out on the Gaylactic Frontier. He'll be fine!

DR: (sounding quite relieved) In that case, Colonel, I wish you and your junta good luck.

jimmytrick: Thanks! We're sure gonna need it!

DR: (switching off the videolink) Ahhh, JP, it feels so good to be back in the game again, wheelin' 'n dealin', just like old times!

JP: (with a concerned expression on his face) DR, are you afraid of death?

DR: (startled) What an odd question, but I'll tell ya one thing...I've lived the high life for a long time--the money, the backroom deals, the women, the drugs, the whole bit--but lately I've been feelin' like I wasted my life. Nuthin' I do seems to matter anymore. I feel alienated from my true self, my true destiny, whatever the hell that is. That's why I backed Lyndon LaDouche for president, until he went gay on me. That's why I'm doing this now. That's why we must succeed! (slams fist)

JP: (slightly embarrassed) Actually, I was thinking more along the line of are you afraid somebody might try to kill you again? Like the time that deranged Marxist, Brian Gaack, came after you with a shotgun.

DR: (laughing) Oh, yeah, I remember that! That was before he became head of them Peruvian guerrillas, who later kidnapped me and tried to convert me to socialism. Wonder whatever happened to that ol' boy.

JP: So the thought never crossed your mind?

DR: Well, maybe once or twice I suppose. But, ya see, JP, them commies need me.

JP: Huh?!

DR: It all came to me one night watching an episode of the O'Wily Factor on CoxNews. They had a right-wing fella on there who said that the reason them left-wingers want to bring in more Third World immigrants is to create a new exploited class, who could then make a socialist revolution. Now it may have been a lot of right-wing conspiracism bullsh*t, everything on O'Wily usually is, but it got me thinking. And that's the reason the commies need me. They need an old oilman like me to reindustrialize the Gaylaxy, to rebuild the proletariat for 'em. Otherwise their vision of a workers' paradise is just another pipe-dream. So that's what this is all about, JP. Industrial capitalism--socialism can't live without it. And that's what it's all about!

(DR knocks back another shot of whiskey and grins broadly for the camera)

[Jules]

Is my latest contribution showing up? The Apolyton server had a little hiccup when I posted it. Always happens at the worst possible time.

[Boris Godunov]

Back aboard the resistance cruiser...

A pall washed over the ship as it was snuggled into the docking bay of the Imperial Battleship. Security guards raced towards the main hatchway, knowing the Gaylactic Storm Cadets were always obvious, in everything they did.

Lt. Spink raised his blaster rifle as he heard the first sounds of a laser drill being applied to the other side of the hatch. He'd be damned if he'd let the Cadets overrun a ship that he was assigned to protect. He had rushed to join up with the resistance the second President Starchild had proclaimed the Empire. Hell, he'd wanted to become a rebel the second he had been elected. He knew you couldn't trust one of them pansies. But right now, Spink was gonna teach the Cadets a lesson. Yessirree bob, those Gaylactic poofs were in for a nasty shock when he--

With a thunderous crash, the hatch exploded inward, and the huge steel door clobbered Spink, pinning his limp body to the floor. He appararently had been so caught up in his musing, he didn't realized he was standing too close to the door, and his men's warning just didn't register. Oh well.

Chartruse laser bolts roared into the corridor, charring the walls and sending sparks flying. Through the smoke entered the first Cadets, awesomely clad in burgundy armor with black accentuation. I mean, they were just superbly dressed. Incredibly sharp uniforms, and the way the cod pieces...

*ahem* right, so, the first Cadets rushed in, firing furiously at the security guards, who became frozen with fear at their fabulous, frightful foes. Finally they snapped out of it and turned tail and ran. The Cadet ceased fire, of course, never wanting to harm an opponent's backside.

Moments later, a ridiculously tall figure strutted from the doorway, stepping on the destroyed hatch, and enjoying the satisfying crunch of the bones below. From the top of his helmet to the tip of his boots, this figure was clad in bright red armor. I mean, flamboyantly red. Nothing less would suit the most notorious lackey of Starchild, the ominous Darth Redfern!

"Commander Firelad," he said to the closest Cadet, "search every corner of this ship. I want Princess Blackwidow brought to me. And there is also a Lt. Spink..."

"My lord," chirped Firelad, "I believe you're standing on him."

"Oh...well, nevermind. Better get a large dustpan. Send a transmission to Grand Admiral Godunov that we have the Princess and will soon have that which he craves most. And I don't mean the Brewer twins!"

With that, Lord Redfern swept down the corridors, his cape billowing behind him gayly, as his troops went to pursue the security guards and lockdown the ship.

[DAVOUT]

On the front, with the Dialectical Division.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : You see what I see, Dino D ?

Almost-Private Dino D : I never see what you see, Vice-Sergeant; in the rare cases where I see something, it is not the thing you are referring to; and assuming that some extraordinary circumstance produces the improbable effect that we see at the same time the same thing, it would definitely not be from the same point of view.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : OK, OK. Lets put it this way : do you see something ?

Almost-Private Dino D : Nothing worth reporting, Vice-Sergeant, all the more that I have caught an aggravated daltonism in discussing some political issues with a guy of the Division; the only colours I see now range from grey-green to green-grey.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : Too bad. Go take your stuff, we leave the position soon. Sloww, come here.

Almost-Private Sloww : Yes, my Vice-Sergeant.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : Take it easy, Sloww, call me Vice.

Almost-Private Sloww : Yes, my Vice.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : You do not suffer daltonism, I hope. Tell me what you see at the other end of the field in front of us.

Almost-Private Sloww : Yes, my Vice. I can only tell you what I see in the two or three meters just here, because I am badly short-sighted, due to all the hours spend in front of a screen, making dialectical posts for the good of the Division. As far as I can tell, it is just grass.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : Sorry, Sloww. Go take your stuff, we leave the position soon. MTG, come here.

Under-Corporal MTG : Here I am.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : Are you normal, MTG ? No daltonism, no short-sightedness ?

Under-Corporal MTG : The sight is good, Sergeant; I would not guarantee most of the rest, but the sight is good.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : OK, tell me if you see people dressed in mauve at the other end of this immense field.

Under-Corporal MTG : No problem, Sergeant; I am positive, I see a lot of mauve heaps on the other side.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : Heaps ? No people ?

Under-Corporal MTG : Could be crouched people, but what are they doing ? Could not be hiding, you would not take mauve dress for hiding.

Vice-Sergeant Monkspider : I will tell you, MTG, they are Gaylactic Storm Cadets trimming immaculate front lawns!

[Drake Tungsten]

Chartruse laser bolts

What self-respecting gay man can't spell "chartreuse" correctly?

[Boris Godunov]

And that was the last anybody heard from Flight Officer Tungsten, as his space fighter suddenly and inexplicably exploded for no apparent reason, scattering his molecules across the void...

[Drake Tungsten]

There's no way you'd find me fighting for the Gaylactic Empire...

[Jules]

Originally posted by Drake Tungsten
What self-respecting gay man can't spell "chartreuse" correctly?

I had to look that one up in the dictionary myself.

[Drake Tungsten]

In retrospect, it's a little disturbing that I know how to spell it...

I'm turning to the Dark Side!

[Jules]

Originally posted by Drake Tungsten
There's no way you'd find me fighting for the Gaylactic Empire...

Well, at least not anymore it seems.

[Jules]

Is there anyone else who uses "Apolyton Evil Capitalist Conservatives Party" in their location field other than Dino? I just noticed that DAVOUT is using him as a grunt in the rebel army. I'm certainly willing to change it in my part of the story. Although if Dino is reading this thread, perhaps he'd rather be a general in charge of the IECCC.

I notice that Che is also listed as a grunt in the rebel army, but I hope DAVOUT doesn't mind my "slight" change of direction since I think Che-ga Fett just sounds really cool.

EDIT: the IECCC is now headed by Colonel Chris "Hannibal Smith" 62. Reread the dialogue to find out how DinoDoc ends up with the rebels.

2ND EDIT: Sorry to have to keep doing this, but jimmytrick is now replacing Chris 62 after rereading DAVOUT's post yet again. Boy, storywriting is hard!

[Imran Siddiqui]

Red_jon has already been used!

Only if you assume that RedFern isn't Red_jon's alternate identity .

Stop ruining plot points .

[Jules]

On the outskirts of the Gaylaxy, also known as the Gaylactic Frontier, there was a small Greek planet known as Apolyton. And there beneath its oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere stood the Resistance HQ in all its glory. Mountains appeared on the horizon; dense forests sprouted below. And rising above the tree canopies were structures, Parthenon-shaped structures, lots of ‘em, all over the planet. A lone sentry kept watch from one of those enclosed basket thingies (like on a cherry picker truck) that just hovered above the trees. The sentry appeared to be aiming a high-powered rifle of some kind, slowly arcing the barrel from left to right then back again. Well, ok, he’s not a sentry. He’s just up there shooting down clay pigeons for some unfathomable reason. Hey, might be fun! Anyhoo…

Inside the command center, temporarily housed in the dimly-lit depths of Solver Hall, Administrator Markos Mothma, glorious leader of the Resistance, sat at his desk poring over the latest sales figures for Official Resistance Merchandise. Chief of Strategy Solver enters the room:

Markos: No, no, no! This is no good at all. All sales are down this month, way down. Look at this: mug sales down 14%, t-shirt sales down 21%. And these are our best-selling items.

Solver: You mean this? (holds up a plain white t-shirt with black lettering, “I joined the Apolyton Resistance and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”) Honestly, I think our marketing campaign needs some work.

Markos: What’s wrong with it? Computer, bring up the latest ad banner on the main viewscreen please.

(A rectangular-shaped banner appears on the wall, orange background, black lettering. On the left side is a photo of Charlie Chaplin dressed like Hitler in “The Great Dictator.” The banner reads, “Don’t be gay! Buy Resistance! Note: that IS Hitler.)

Markos: Now what could be wrong with that?!

Solver: I just think the Hitler bit is putting people off, sir.

Markos: But ad banners aren’t supposed to mean anything. It’s just a bunch of crazy sh*t pasted together to sell merchandise. You know what I think? I think our customers are prejudiced against all things Hitler.

Solver: Exactly, sir.

Markos: (stroking his chin) Hmmm…ok, forget about it. But we still can’t go back on our threat.

(Markos presses a button on his command console, opening up a 15 x 15 foot section of floor. Underneath are a half-a-dozen or so adorable kittens playing around in kitty litter. Markos pulls out his Colt .45, aims it at a random kitten, and pulls the trigger. A loud bang echoes throughout the room. The kittens meow in terror as one of their siblings lies dead, literally blown apart, in front of them.)

Solver: (wincing) Ugh! Was that really necessary, sir?

Markos: (holstering his Colt .45) Yes! (sighs heavily) Oh, I’m sorry, Solver. It’s just this Solver Hall place is really creeping me out. And we can’t afford to move out of here until we start selling more merchandise.

Solver: (chuckles, then lights up a cigarette) Well, sir, it’s their fear of this place that keeps the troops in line. We give them fear, and they give us victory. And of course with victory, we sell more merchandise. That's the nature of existence. That’s why you hired me for this job. You’re not having second thoughts about The Plan, are you?

Markos: No, not at all. How’s the war going anyway?

Solver: (takes a heavy drag off his cigarette, then slowly exhales the smoke into Markos's face) Commodore Ming reports that the Dialectical Division has arrived at the front. They’ve encountered Gaylactic Storm Cadets…trimming immaculate front lawns.

Markos: (aghast) Good God, Solver! Do you realize what this means???

Solver: (nods) They’re about to put on their annual Gay Fashions Festival, and they want to tidy up the Gaylaxy beforehand. (notices the look of panic on Markos’s face) But don’t worry. I’ve made all the necessary preparations. Everything is in readiness.

Markos: You mean…agent paiktis22? He’s in position?

Solver: Yes. The 22nd iteration of the paiktis has been modified with a new highly unstable radioactive isotope our scientists have extracted from Fez I. In other words, paiktis22 has been Fezzed. I’ve secretly inserted him onto fubutooine, disguised as one of the Troll People, the indigenous population of the planet. He’ll lie low for a while, scavenging for scrap metal and spare parts, then ingesting them so as not to attract suspicion from the other Trolls. And then when Darth Redfern arrives, chasing after Princess BlackWidow…BAM…he goes off, taking out the whole quadrant in the process. The Imperials will never know what him ‘em! I’m afraid the Gaylaxy won’t be quite so tidy after all that Fezzed space debris passes through.

Markos: (grinning maniacally) That’s excellent. Solver, you’re a genius!

Solver: (bows head) I do what I can, sir.

(the scene ends with the two rebel plotters staring in awe at the dead kitten beneath the floor)

[Jules]

Big update coming up.