A small clown on a tricycle motioned at Grognard to follow him. Grognard followed the small clown through twisting corridor lined with odd mirrors. There were clowns everywhere. The Slapstick was half the size of The Reroll but it appeared to have twice as many crew members. Where did they all fit?
They entered the bridge. Clowns were busy manning consoles and honking each others’ noses. The large monitor was covered in various cream pie explosions. Carnival music played.
Captain Ticklepoke stood up from her chair. The pale clown had been braiding her orange frizzy hair with balloon animals. She looked at Grognard and snapped a salute that popped one of her balloon animals.
“Admiral! Please, sit in the chair we made for you!” she said.
The bridge clowns giggled and tried to keep straight faces.
It was obviously a trap but Grognard needed these clowns. He had transferred command to The Slapstick because there were two more unidentified contacts out there that might be laden with treasure. He might give them orders, but he needed them to want to obey him.
He went to the chair and sat down in it. An exaggerated long fart noise blasted through the bridge. The clowns all looked at him with faux shocked faces.
“Excuuuuuuuuse me,” Grognard said. He waved his hand to clear the imaginary fart.
The clowns burst out laughing. Captain Ticklepoke smiled at him with admiration. He had earned the clowns’ respect.
“Contact at six boobpity-poo!” the sensors clown said.
“What?” Grognard said. “Already?” They just had an engagement less than six hours ago. This sector of space was crowded today!
Ticklepoke went into action. “Arm laser thingys! Prepare the pie launchers! Secure the seltzer! Full speed ahead!”
The clowns went into action. Grognard watched in fascination. People tended to dismiss the weird worshipers of the clown cults, but they forget that even clowns have things to do. The Slapstick went into battle readiness in seconds.
Grognard looked at the tactical screen on his command chair. The ship had been identified as a simple Freighter. It was called The Delayed Quote. It wasn’t a big prize but it would be better than nothing.
To Grognard’s surprise, The Slapstick managed to jump very close to The Delayed Quote. These clowns were better with their scanners than his own pirates.
The freighter began to turn and The Slapstick zoomed into missile range. Grognard shook his head. He was going to order some sort of exchange program so his pirates could learn a thing or two from these clowns.
The Slapstick launched a missile. Grognard watched with glee as The Delayed Quote utterly failed to evade it. The glee turned to disbelief as he saw the missile vaporize a cargo bay.
Maybe there wasn’t as much to learn from clowns as he thought.
The Delayed Quote was running away. They fired their guns but they were too weak against The Slapstick’s shields.
The Slapstick fired another missile. Gorgnard held his breath as the missile smashed into the freighter. He let it out when he saw the freighter’s shields wink out of existence.
“Sheilds are down!” he yelled. “Fire all guns!”
The Slapstick responded. Sadly, they only had the one gun and Grognard sighed as it missed the slow moving freighter.
Yeah, aim was definitely a problem for these clowns.
“They are hollering for their momma!” a clown yelled.
Grognard interpreted that to mean that the freighter was calling for help. The pirates had jut come from a battle where the Star Navy sent two waves of help. He hoped that all available military forces had been exhausted.
 | |
| Battle images provided by VirginFox Satellite #312 |
The Slapstick kept firing. Miss after miss shot past the unshielded freighter. Grognard wondered if it was sort of a joke that he didn’t understand.
At least the missiles were hitting. Grognard watched as bits of the freighter’s hull were blasted off. The clowns had stopped hitting cargo bays but he knew that could change at any moment.
A shudder went through the ship. Grognard was bounced around so much that he reactivated the fart simulator.
“They blew our bleeping blooping shields!” a clown reported.
Lords of Space! The freaking merchants took one of their shields? Grognard swore to look into maybe hiring merchant gunners.
“Time to make them laugh!” Ticklepoke said. She looked defiant and angry which was hard to do with balloon animals in your hair. “Board them and take them!”
Grognard had a bad case of déjà vu. The last time he ordered a boarding, they got their booty kicked. What were these clowns going to do?
The Slapstick matched speeds with The Delayed Quote. Striped airlocks extended and latched on. The carnival music on the ship changed to something far more sinister yet weirdly upbeat.
“Send in the clowns!” Captain Ticklepoke cried.
Grognard wondered what it must look like for the poor freighter crew. They would see the airlocks burst open and hordes of clowns pour through. They would be killed by lethal shock buzzers, hilariously big pistols and buckets of confetti that was really nanonites that would tear their flesh apart. It would be horrifying.
Several long minutes passed.
“The freighter crew is dead!” a clown announced.
The clowns cheered. Several of them honked with glee. Grognard was stunned. The clowns had slaughtered everyone. These clowns were bad asses!
He was in for another surprise. Captain Ticklepoke jumped with joy and grabbed Grognard. She kissed him and he found himself kissing her back.
She tasted funny; like sugar and corn dogs.
“Empty the freighter and blow her up!” Captain Ticklepoke said. “Party in the Center Ring tonight!”
The clowns cheered. Grognard cheered too. Ticklepoke winked at him and he felt his cheeks burn. He hoped that he survived this party.
No comments:
Post a Comment