Kelso Wars - A New Dope

keep it coming.

 

I might speed this up a bit, and start putting two parts per day. Seems to be going a bit slow currently, I need it to get to the good bits

Hey, since we seem to have some "looking into the archives" trend going on at the moment, here's the link to the Original Kelso Fan Club Thread

 

"Okay. So explain the plan to me again." Fluke said.
"It's simple." Replied Fly-Gonn. "We pretend to be pimpin' hos in the Mos Issly red light district. When someone slows down to ask us what quality hos we have, we clobber 'em, steal all their money and use that to hire some random smuggler to take us up to that big thing."
"Right. I understood you, right up to it's simple."
"I've explained this fifteen times already." Fly-Gonn rolled his eyes in frustration. "Fuck it, let's just go rob a bank."

***

"Good morning sir, how can I help you?"
"Give us some money." Fluke shouted.
"Do you have an account, sir? If not, I can help you with setting up a high-interest special owner account..."
"Uhh, please excuse my friend." Fly-Gonn interrupted. "He's a few full-fat meals short of a Hutt. We're actually supposed to be robbing you, using this." Fly-Gonn pulled his hand out of his coat to reveal his weapon.
"Right sir. You're holding the bank up, with a spaghetti drainer as your weapon. Good choice."

"What the..." Fly-Gonn looked at his hand and realised what he was holding. "Fuck, I'd wondered where that got to. I had to use my tennis racket to drain the noodles yesterday. Then I used it to get the water out of the spaghetti bolognaise I was boiling! Hahaha!!! Geddit?"
The woman behind the desk was not amused. "Sir, this is a bank. We only accept serious robberies. Comedy robberies are bad for business, and often end up with someone getting an anvil or piano on the head. In the cartoons, anyway."

"Oh, don't worry." Fly-Gonn replied. "I have my real weapon right here..." He finally fished his lightsabre out of his cloak, ignited it and waved it around a little, letting the blue blade hum past the desk worker's nose a couple of times. "Is this any better for a serious robbery?"
The woman smiled. "Yes, that's perfect."
"Great. Glad that we could see eye to eye on this subject. Now give me some money, bitch!"

While the cashier woman shovelled lots of credits into a brown sack, all the while whistling happily, Fluke kept his eyes on the people in the bank. Then, all of a sudden, someone came up to him.
"Good morning!" The person, who Fluke had never seen before in his life, said.
"Umm...hello..."
"Well, see I couldn't help noticing you're robbing the bank there." Fluke nodded, motioning for the man to continue. "Well, see, I'm a bit of a have-a-go-hero. I was wondering if I could, like, try to knock you out then you kick the shit out of me, or something." Fluke's jaw dropped in puzzled wonder at what the guy was saying. "Ah, come on, young feller...I mean, look, I see you've got one of those things on your belt too. Chop off my arm!"
"Uhh...no!" Fluke tried to hide his lightsabre behind his tucked-out shirt, reluctant to use it and reveal the pink blade. "It's...umm...run out of batteries."

Fly-Gonn stepped by Fluke's side. "This little one's not worth the effort. Come on, let me give you a ludicrous amount of stolen money..."
"Not worth the effort?!" Fluke hissed.
"Shut the fuck up." Fly-Gonn hissed back. "We've just robbed a bank, we're not staying around for a fight! Except if bikinis and mud wrestling are involved. And even then, only for five minutes."

"There's thirty thousand credits in stolen notes. Thank you, sir, and I hope you enjoyed your looting experience here at TattyOne bank!"
"Yeah, whatever..." Fly-Gonn muttered as he swung the sack over his shoulders and walked out, Fluke following close behind.



***



Outside the bank at last, Fluke shielded his eyes from the glaring sun with his hand.
"So now we just have to find a cargo smuggler for hire, and enquire within?"
"Exactly." Fly-Gonn answered. "Although where we'd find a cargo smuggler for hire, I don't know."
"How about next to that sign?" Fluke pointed to a sign.

Fly-Gonn stared at the sign. It read Cargo smuggler for hire. Enquire within. A female was stood by the side, smoking.
Fly-Gonn and Fluke walked up to the woman as she continued puffing on the rolled-up cigarette. Fly-Gonn extended his hand.
"Fly-Gonn Gin, pleased to meet you."
The woman looked down at the hand, but didn't shake it. Instead, she removed the cig from her mouth, exhaled then replied. "Sun Holo. Smuggler, bounty hunter, mercenary, gun for hire, and all round nice person."
"Are you available for a cargo run?"
"I will be. As soon as I finish this." Sun Holo took another breath from the cig. "This guy gave it to me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. He was all wrinkly. Kept on screwing up his words. About nine hundred years old?"
"Ahh, Yoda?"
"No, Keith Richards." Sun threw the now-finished cig to the ground. "Anyway, I'll introduce you to my co-pilot, Fuzzy." Sun yelled towards an alien stood a few metres away, drinking from a bowl of water. "Fuzzy, we have business."

Fuzzy began to walk towards the group. Three foot tall, hairy and cat-like, she looked almost elfin in her cuteness.
"Ahh, hello Fuzzy." Fly-Gonn went to pat Fuzzy on the head but as he reached over, Fuzzy bared a mouth full of glinting teeth. Fly-Gonn drew his hand back before Fuzzy could take a bite at it.
"You'll have to excuse Fuzzy." Sun smirked. "She's a little temperamental sometimes." Sun stroked Fuzzy's ears, and the line of fierce teeth disappeared again. Calmed down, Fuzzy kneeled down on the floor and began to clean herself.
Fluke continued to watch Fuzzy in interest as Fly-Gonn and Sun began negotiating.
"So what is this cargo? And where is it heading?"
"The cargo is us." Replied Fly-Gonn. "And we want to go up to that bloody big station thing in the sky."
"The Imperial battlestation?" Sun coughed in shock. "Of course, you realise that's gonna cost ya."
"Oh, that doesn't worry us." Fly-Gonn replied. "We have thirty thousand credits."
Sun winced in feigned sympathy. "I'd usually charge three thousand and one creds for this type of mission."
"I'll throw in a spaghetti drainer for free. Never been used, apart from in bank robberies."
"Ooo! A spaghetti drainer! Great...just the thing I need. It's a deal." Sun beamed a smile. "Glad to meet you and your friend...uhh...what's your friend doing?"
Fluke was kneeled on the floor watching Fuzzy lick herself clean.
"Fluke, what the fuck..."
"Oh, sorry. I'm just watching Fuzzy lick herself." Fluke sighed. "Man, I wish I could do that!"
Sun raised an eyebrow. "Give her a biscuit and she might let you!"

 

"Are we nearly there yet?" Fluke moaned.
"Shut up and drink yer rum!" Fly-Gonn answered.
"Damnit, I'm bored, and this rum...*glug*...is the only thing keeping me from being even boreder!"
"Shut the damn hell up Fluke!" Fly-Gonn hissed. "You've done nothing but moan since we got to the hangar bay! Ooo, that ship is a heap of junk, ooo my seatbelt's too tight, ooo Sun Holo is trying to kill me, ooo the airlock is leaking. Take it easy!"

"We're nearly there anyways." Sun paused as she sipped some of the rum that Fly-Gonn had given her. "Just about half an hour more, and we're there." She downed her cup and handed it back to Fly-Gonn. "Say, old man, that rum is delicious!"
"Thanks, I made it myself!"
"How exactly do you keep it so fresh? How do you bottle it?"
"Bottle it?" Fly-Gonn inquired as he unzipped his trousers and pissed into the cup. Finishing just as the cup was about to overflow, he handed it back to the stunned Sun and sat back down.

"Umm...Fly-Gonn...how did you..."
"Oh great, Fluke, not you again. What are you gonna complain about this time?"
"Umm...I was just wondering...how come most of the other rum I've tried tastes of piss, but I've never heard of piss that tastes of rum before?"
"Some rum tastes of piss because it is, lad." Fly-Gonn stated warmly, not exactly providing an understandable and cohesive answer to the question. "Want me to fill you up?"



***



"Darthy, we have the planet on our target scanners. Ready to fire when you are."
"That's gr...wait, what did you call me?"
"Umm...I meant Darth Phoenix The Magnificent."
"That's better." Darth phoenix smiled slyly as he watched the planet in the main view window. "Fire on my mark. One...two...three...f..."
"...Wait, sir...there's a small transport ship coming out of orbit. On current course, it's blocking our firing trajectory."
"Oh, pooballs." Phoenix cursed. "I can't be arsed with a bloody transport ship...umm...just tractor it into the hangar bay and get our Stormtroopers to eat the crew, or something."
"Great idea, sir." Lieutenant N. Princess stood up and pecked Phoenix on the helmet. "I'll get right on it, sweetie."

***

"We're coming in for landing." Sun Holo checked her radar scope. "Hang on, I'm getting energy readings...that thing's operational!" panicking slightly, she threw her ship, the Millennium Table, into a wild spin. But it was too late. A bright blue tractor beam shot from the Death Poo, snaring the ship and dragging it towards the hangar bay.
"What's happening?" Fluke asked.
"They've caught us in their tractor beam, now they're bringing us into they're hangar bay." Explained Sun, still struggling to wriggle the ship free of the beam.
"Oh...that's good!"
"No...that's *bad*" Sun replied. "I was hoping to sneak the ship as close as possible, then find an emergency hatch to sneak in through. They snared us before I could get into silent operation...blasting through the front door isn't a good idea on a station that has several platoons of the PLOKs best soldiers."
"This may not seem like the best idea..." Fly-Gonn whispered. "but..."

***

"The transport is no longer blocking our way, Darth Phoenix."
"Very good, Lieutenant. Fire that thang!"

***

The Methane cannon ejected tons and tons of noxious gases, which were then ignited as they covered the planet TattyOne. The entire planet sparked into a huge fireball, combusting almost instantaneously and exploding into millions of tiny rocks.

***

"...ooh!" Fly-Gonn doubled up in pain.
"Fly-Gonn!" Fluke yelled. "Are you alright?"
"I felt a great disturbance in The Farce...millions of spirits, trying to force their way out...hang on."
Fly-Gonn strained and doubled over a little more, and a huge ripping sound and near-instant pungent smell infested the air.
"Ahh by fuck that's better. I've been dying for that for ages." Fly-Gonn returned to his normal stance. "Anyway, get on with your Farce training." Fluke hesitated to ignite his pink lightsabre. "What are you waiting for, you little Jedi Shite?"
Sighing, Fluke activated his lightsabre.
Despite running the galaxy, PLOKs had run into financial problems during the first year of the KFC attacks. As a result, it often had to rely on funding from other organisations to fund its arsenal of weaponry. Vorgin Trains, owned by Richard Branston-Pickle, had sponsored the PLOKs tractor beam research. Of course, as a result the tractor beams were always delayed. During the two hours that they had been caught in the tractor beam, Fluke had undergone training under Fly-Gonn.
"I can't see how this can be proper Farce training." Fluke complained. "I mean, we don't even have a proper blaster droid for me to train against!"
"Shut up and get ready to deflect. Part of being a Jedi Knight Who Says Ni is being prepared for anything."
Mumbling under his breath, Fluke ignited his sabre and got into position. "Ready."

Due to not having a blaster droid on board, and Sun being reluctant to lend the pair one of her blasters, the pair had had to improvise. Thus, Fluke began to deflect cakes that were thrown at him by Fly-Gonn.

"Okay, this one's easy, cream eclair...ooo, this one's gonna be tricky, sticky bun...watch out for the jam doughnut!"

"Okay guys, we're coming close to the hangar bay!" Sun yelled from the cockpit. Fuzzy got down from her chair and began eating all the cakes on the floor.
"You know," Fluke said as he and Fly-Gonn walked back into the cockpit, "I really can feel something flowing through me." He stopped for a while, strained, and another ripping sound/bad smell combo was born.

"Right, we're coming into the hangar bay, careful, it's gonna be a bumpy ride."
"Sure thing Su...umm...hey Sun, what the fuck happened to the planet?"



***



"...and then Mister Planet went BANG BANG BANG!!!" Sun finished.
"Wow. So Mister Methane cannon is nasty?"
"Yes, Fluke." Sun replied, exasperated after having to go through the entire set of events she'd seen for the third time, each in a manner more dumbed down than the one before for Fluke. "The methane cannon is bad."

Fly-Gonn had remained silent up to now. He was staring out of the window as the transport was brought down onto the hangar floor. Breaking his pensive thought, he turned to Fluke and Sun. "I'm gonna shut this station down."
"What, are you crazy?" Sun yelled. "There's probably an entire army of troopers on this base!"
Fly-Gonn smiled. "You forgot one thing." He turned to Kat86. "Kat, would you bring up the Death Poo blueprints?"
"Beepity." The blueprints came up, hovering in thin air.
"Take a look." Fly-Gonn pointed at the details. "The Death Poo was built in Smaynana Shipyards - and TattyOne is the closest inhabited planet to that shipyard. Therefore, the crew will have been shipped from Tattyone."
"What's your point?" Sun asked.
"They were probably trained in the Tattyone weaponry academy. And everyone knows that anyone who learnt to shoot on Tattyone, can't shoot at all!"
"What the, that's ridiculous! Wha..." Sun was interrupted as the Stormtrooper team force-boarded the Millennium table. Obviously making a beeline for the cockpit, they began firing a flurry of shots.

Which missed every single target of opportunity.

Without a flicker of doubt, Fly-Gonn took his sabre from his belt. He didn't even bother igniting it - instead, he walked up to the four troopers and whacked each of them over the head with the steel hilt.

Sun looked in amazement as Fly-Gonn cockily clipped the sabre back onto his belt.
"Damn troopers can't shoot straight to save their lives." He grinned.

 

"Nice one, old man." Sun remarked. "But what do we do now?"
"We go and rescue the princess!" Exclaimed Fluke.
Sun stared at Fluke, then looked at Fly-Gonn. "Rescue the princess? What? Are you two on some sort of drugs?"
"No!" Fly-Gonn protested. "Well...yes. But they stop the voices coming to me." Fly-Gonn suddenly stopped, and gazed into thin air. "Oh no...one of the voices is calling me...it's saying..." Fly-Gonn strained to hear. "...it says The Simpsons isn't on tonight because the cricket is running over."
Sun looked at Fly-Gonn, bewildered. "The voices in your head tell you the TV schedule?"
Fly-Gonn shook his head. "Usually they prefer the radio."
"Anyway, guys..." Fluke got back onto the subject. "How do we get rid of these stormtroopers? And how do we rescue the princess?"
"Hmm." Fly-Gonn rubbed his beard. "There's got to be a way...ah! I've got it! You two go and rescue the princess, I'll go and shut the station’s tractor beam down so we can escape!" Fly-Gonn began to run for the exit hatch.
"Wait, Fly-Gonn, you need..." It was too late. Fly-Gonn had ran down the hatch, and was already making his way to the hangar doors, randomly bopping troopers on the head and kicking them in the knackers. Sun looked at Fluke. "Is he always as mad as that?"
"You don't want to know the nickname they gave him on TattyOne..."
"Hmm. Anyway. I think that our best bet is to take the troopers' armour. That way, we can get through without being noticed, and get to the prison block. From there, you can find this so-called princess and save the so-called galaxy with your so-called Farce skills."
"Sounds okay to me."

***

"Aargh...damnit...I told you we should've checked the armour sizes first!" Sun complained as she tried to puff her belly out to fill up the huge space between herself and the armour.
"You think you've got it bad?!" Replied Fluke, trying to breathe in armour that was probably ten sizes too small for him.
"Shut up. Anyway, it's too late to swap now, there's not enough time." Sun gestured to the exit hatch. "Lead the way."
"But I don't know the way!"
"Then guess!"

***

"Hmm..." Fly-Gonn rubbed his beard again as he watched the pair of troopers guard the main energy generator. Then he struck upon an idea. Summoning all his Farce influence, he used his wizened skills to play an ancient mind trick on the two unsuspecting muscle-heads.
"What did you just say?" Trooper one turned to his buddy.
"What?"
"You said you'd had my wife!"
"What the...no I didn't!"
"You did!"
"I didn't say a word, mate!"
"What the...oh, it's probably just these long shifts." They returned to their vigil, but it was too late. Fly-Gonn had already got into position, right behind the generator. He leaned over so he could see the troopers, and yelled at the first one.
"Hey buddy!" He yelled, making the two troopers spin around in shock. "Do you have any nudie pics of your mother?"
"What the f...no, I don't, wh..."
"D'you want to buy some? Hahaha!!!" Fly-Gonn jumped around 180 degrees and mooned the pair.
"Do I want to...what the...arrgh! Kill 'im!!!" The two troopers began to shoot at the old Farce master, but their aiming was, once again, useless. Instead of hitting Fly-Gonn, all their shots went straight into the generator. Fly-Gonn pulled his pants back up and ran for cover as the generator's stability field ruptured and the meltdown began.

The two troopers stared at each other.
"You know, you remember the advanced weapon training course we attended?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm beginning to wish we'd stayed for the full half hour."

The generator exploded, taking the troopers and most of the generator room with it. For a second, the entire station was plunged into utter darkness.


“That should take care of the tractor beam.” Fly-Gonn said to himself. “Now to get out of here."


***


"What was that?" Sun looked around in alarm as the lights came back up.
"I don't know. I guess Fly-Gonn must have taken out the generator. They must have an auxiliary generator."
"Right. So now we can see our way again. Where are we?"
"Umm...well..."
"You don't know where we are, do you?"
"Yes I do?"
"Okay genius. Where are we?"
"Lost." Fluke replied. "Hopelessly lost..."[font=&quot]
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Fly-Gonn had already begun to make his way back to the ship. But as he made his way silently back to the hangar, he stopped and stared at what he saw in front of him.
He knew he couldn't escape. This was his destiny...

"Oh wow..." He murmured. "The cafeteria sells cheesecake?!! I've gotta get me some of that!!!"

***

"Hang on...let me just check around this corner..." Fluke checked the corner. "I think I know where we are. The corridors look familiar."
"They look familiar because we've passed through this corridor before. Fifteen fucking times."
"Hmm. Well, if we keep on going round, we're sure to find what we're looking for."
"Fluke." Sun hissed. "Shut up and ask for directions."
"What? Me? Ask for directions?! I know exactly where we are!"
"So do I." Sun replied. "And that's why I'm asking...umm...this guy! 'scuse me sir..."
Fluke turned his head, embarrassed, as Sun went up to the PLOKs officer and asked for directions to the prison block.

***


"See, that wasn't so hard!" Sun exclaimed.
"What do you mean?" Fluke replied, exhausted. "He took one look at my boots and told me to do fifty press-ups!"
"He did say he should be able to see his face in them."
"Well, he probably could. When I kicked him in the face. Damn slavedriver. Worse than Uncle Bush."

***

The two finally got to their destination. Fluke pressed the door activation and there, still listening to the robotic Pete Waterman, was Princess Mercy.
"Princess?" Fluke began to untie the restraints that held her in place. Then, as they became loose enough, she took her hands out of the cuffs. Then she looked up, smiled, and proceeded to kick Fluke in the stomach, elbow him in the head and kick him in the nads.
"Oww! What the..."
"Think you could keep me captive, PLOKs scum?!" Mercy kicked Fluke in his stormtrooper helmet.
"Hey, hey, wait!" Sun pulled her helmet off before she became the victim of Mercy's rage. "We're here to save you."
"You're here to...ohh fuck..." Mercy grabbed Fluke's arm, pulled him back onto his feet and tried to brush off the dust on his armour.
"Huh, wha hapen?" Fluke staggered about for a while, before falling over again.
"Looks like we'll be carrying someone back to the ship." Sun smiled as Fluke tried to get up again, stumbled, then fell face-first into the wall.
"Well, we'd better get going..." Mercy went to leave, but then stopped. "Oh, wait..." She took the unconscious Fluke's blaster from his holster, aimed at the robotic Pete Waterman and fired off seven shots. The cyborg record producer exploded into a million pieces.
"That's for making Will Young a household name." She whispered coldly.


***

"Mmm, delicious...hey, Kat..." Fly-Gonn reached over to take another piece of the cheesecake. "Do you think you could get their recipe?"
"Bleepit, bloopy." Kat had joined Fly-Gonn in the cafeteria, and was sat in the opposite seat watching Fly-Gonn cheesecake the wolf...I mean, wolf the cheesecake down.
"Hmm...I mean, I wonder what sort of biscuit they use for the crust, it's really...hey, bugger, we'd better get back to the ship! Fluke and Sun should be back any moment now."

Fly-Gonn and Kat began to walk out of the cafeteria, but as they walked, Fly-Gonn could feel a presence. His breathing turned deeper as he realised who was waiting for him.

"Kat..." Fly-Gonn whispered. "I believe we may have trouble." Fly-Gonn unclipped his sabre from his belt in anticipation, then turned the corner and saw that Darth Phoenix was standing there, lit lightsabre in hand.
"Fly-Gonn. I have been waiting for you." Phoenix began to walk towards Fly-Gonn, and the old Farce master ignited his lightsabre in reply.
"Now the circle is complete." Phoenix continued. "I have come to confront you, but this time the terms have changed. Now I am the master."
"Only a master of evil, Phoenix." Fly-Gonn muttered.
"And that's coming from a guy whose nickname is Shaggy McSheep?"
"What? How did you..."
"I told you, mate. I'm a master! And now, you will meet your end..."
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Wow... how did you know that I looove cheesecake... mmmmmmmm... I've got some lemon cheesecake to eat tonight... and to smother all over my naked body... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...


Oh... I take it that in this version Fly-Gonn chops old pooball Phoenix into a bazillion pieces before jetting off to save the galaxy and sleep with all the attractive female characters?...

Hell... all the female characters regardless of being attractive or not...

Come to think of it... all the characters regardless of being female or not...

Fly...

 

Cheesecake is one of the most delicious things ever

I'm afraid that this version is the same as the original, with Fly-Gonn sacrificing himself for the good of the KFC. But hey, there might be a few tricks left up his Farce ghost sleeve

 

Will he become more drunk than I can ever imagine?

 

Princess Mercy and Sun Holo were dragging Fluke by either leg, with the side of Fluke's face dragging along the floor. Fluke began to come to as they entered the hangar bay, and made several confused grunts as he tried to work out what was happening. Then, as the memories came back, he caught sight of Phoenix, lightsabre lit, as he approached Fly-Gonn and began to violently duel with him.
"What, where...whoa...umm..." Fluke tried to wriggle out of the grip of his two friends, but he was still disoriented and weak from the fight with the Princess. All he could do was watch as the younger Phoenix began to overpower the old man.

***

"You are weak, old man!" Phoenix exclaimed as Fly-Gonn continued to deflect his swings. "Give up. If you get down on your knees and beg, I may even kill you nicely."
"Never." Replied Fly-Gonn as he deflected a swing to his right hand side, then spun round to deflect an attempt to the left.
"Then you leave me no choice but to..."
"Wait!" Fly-Gonn pointed behind Phoenix. "Look"! It's Mark Hamill!"
"What, the guy from Star wars?!" Phoenix looked behind him, starstruck. "Hey Mister Hamill, can I have your autogra..."

"Quick, Kat, let's get out of here!" Fly-Gonn bolted away, followed by the beeping Kat86. He went as far as the end of the corridor, then went through a door and slammed it shut.

Confused, Phoenix turned back to see the door slam. Cursing at his mistake, he stalked towards the door and kicked it open.

To reveal a cafe.

"Ahh, bonjour monsieur Phoenix, welcome to the cafe death! Eat here and you won't live to regret it!" Before Phoenix could speak, or even realise that the two waiters looked like Fly-Gonn and Kat86, he was pushed into a seat.
"Now, monsieur, what will it be for starters? May I recommend the blancmange et la frog?" The human waiter trailed off as he looked at Phoenix. "Ah wait, triangular mouth. In that case, may I recommend some toast, maybe? Or a dairylea triangle? Or some doritos!"
As Fly-Gonn spoke, Kat trundled round. But she didn't realise she had snagged her right wheel in Fly-Gonn's waiter disguise. As she wandered, she slowly pulled the white robe from Fly-Gonn's shoulder until he was back in his old clothes, and Phoenix looked up in slow realisation. Phoenix stood up and ignited his lightsabre again.
"Uh oh." Fly-Gonn muttered. "Run for it, Kat!"
"Bloop!" Kat yelled, which roughly translated as "Yikes!".



***



Fly-Gonn bolted out of the door and ignited his lightsabre again. A second later, Darth Phoenix leapt from the doorway as well, raising his lightsabre above his head and striking it against Fly-Gonn's with all the strength he could find. Phoenix was angered by Fly-Gonn's attempt to fool him, and was now out for blood.

Fluke, still being dragged along the floor, was now being chased by Fuzzy. As he tried to stop her from scratching his cheek again, he saw that the fight had begun again.

Bright red flared on bright blue as Phoenix and Fly-Gonn fought to the bitter end. Then, exhausted, Fly-Gonn stepped back and deactivated his lightsabre.

"What the..." Phoenix stopped, completely taken by surprise. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"I'm giving up the fight." Fly-Gonn replied bluntly.

"You mean...you mean I win?!" Fly-Gonn nodded, and Phoenix began to dance around. "Ha ha ha!!! I win! I beat you! I get to kill you, la la la la la!!!" Still holding his ignited sabre, Phoenix moved to deliver the final, fatal blow. [font=&quot]
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"But exercise caution, Phoenix." Fly-Gonn stated. "If you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you can ever imagine."[font=&quot]
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"Ha! You think I believe that baloney?" Phoenix mocked. "You used to be the greatest Farce master of the universe! You said that you would train me to become a great Knight...and now, here I am! Oh, I shall enjoy this..." Phoenix said as he prepared to swing his lightsabre.

Then from out of nowhere, a laser blast shot past Phoenix's eyes and towards Fly-Gonn. Unable to react, the bolt hit Fly-Gonn and struck him down.

"Nooo!" Fluke yelled, although it was difficult. Fuzzy had got tired, and had decided to fall asleep in his mouth.

"Nooo!" Phoenix yelled. He turned around to see who had fired the shot.

"Hey sir!" Stood in the doorway was Lieutenant N. Princess.

"Wha...who...why...why?!!" Phoenix's voice was blank and emotionless, his emotions and senses still reeling from how close he had come to fulfilling his dream.

"I thought you might need some help, so I came down. Lucky I did...if I didn't shoot that old guy, you'd have sliced him in half with the lightsabre!"

"That...was...the...point." Hissed Phoenix, his emotions slowly returning.

"In that case I saved you a job!"

"You killed Fly-Gonn Ginn." Phoenix said, barely coming to terms with it himself.

"Hey!" Yelled a nearby stormtrooper who had just entered the hangar bay. "Lieutenant Princess killed your arch-enemy?" The trooper jogged up to Princess and clapped her on the back. "That's fantastic! Hey, Stormtrooper Lenny, come listen to this...Lieutenant Princess killed our old enemy!"


Distracted by the sudden torrent of people congratulating Lieutenant Princess, Darth Phoenix was too shocked to realise the Millennium Table's docking platform had retracted into its body. In fact, it was only once the engines had started and the ship was halfway towards the hangar bay doors that he realised.

"Hey...stop that ship!!!" He yelled. "It's getting..." The Millennium Table sped out of the hangar bay and into space, entering hyperspace a few seconds after. "...it's got away. Great."

"For she's a jolly good shooter, for she's a jolly good shooter..." Phoenix turned around to see the horde of stormtroopers carrying Lieutenant Princess out of the hangar bays on their shoulders, off to celebrate her success at killing the old Farce Master.

"Oh fate..." Phoenix whispered. "Why do thou piss me off?"[font=&quot]
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On board the Millennium Table, Fluke sat alone in the passenger seating area. He was looking out of the window, but he wasn't watching the stars or anything. His eyes were blank. But his mind was raging with thoughts of what had happened.

Princess Mercy came into the room and saw Fluke sat gazing at the window. Feeling sorry for him, she sat next to him.

"Hey."
Fluke looked over and smiled weakly, but the smile quickly fell back into his blank expression.

"I'm sorry about Fly-Gonn."
Fluke jumped at the mention of the name. He breathed deeply, then spoke. "What happened? How could I have saved him?"
"You couldn't have." Mercy tried to reassure him. "Fly-Gonn sacrificed himself. By distracting Phoenix for all that time, he let us get back to the ship and escape."
"I still can't believe he's gone..."
"He was a good man. And a great master of the Farce."
"Not only that." Replied Fluke. "He could piss the best rum I've ever tasted in my life."



***

As the hyperspace vortex opened up and spat the Millennium Table back into normal space, a list of friendly contacts flashed up onto the radar.
Almost instinctively, Mercy took control of the communications.
"Rebel base, this is Princess Mercy aboard the ship that has just hypered in. The ship is friendly, do not attack. We have the secre..."

"Ooh man," the comms officer on the other end yelled, "We have an enemy ship inbound!"
"I repeat, the new contact on your radar is friendly. Do not shoot. This is Princess Mercy of the KFC Rebellion, I have the..."
"They have Princess Mercy!" The comms officer yelled back. "They've captured her! Oh no, wait, she must be a double agent! All this time she's been working for Darth Phoenix! Aargh, and to think everybody said I was just paranoid! They were all against me too...uhh, just a sec, I have the munchies!"

Mercy sighed in half relief, half disbelief. "Princess Mercy to Rebel base, this is a critical situation. Darth Phoenix has discovered the location of our base, and the PLOKs secret battlestation is on its way. By any chance do you have a comm officer on duty that isn't stoned?!"

After a short pause, the comms were picked up by another crewmember of the main KFC base. "Princess Mercy, this is Fleet Commander Merlin. Sorry about the mistake. We're dispatching a squadron to escort you to the base landing bay now. Welcome back."

***

Soon afterwards, Kat86's memory banks had been uploaded into the base main computer. Princess Mercy and Fleet Commander Merlin stood over a computer projection of the Death Poo blueprint, trying to figure out a weak spot.

"It seems that the easiest way to destroy the station would be to ignite the methane tanks." Merlin said out loud, pointing to the huge storage tanks that held the methane for the battlestation's main weapon. "But the tanks are too far within the structure of the station for us to aim warheads at them."
"Could we send a group of fighters in to fire the warheads?" Mercy suggested.
"Possibly. But the tanks are deep inside the station structure. We'd have to find some route through the structure that the fighters could follow to get to the tanks." Merlin took note of the long, winding system of piping that led through the station in the blueprint. "And even then, I don't know if we'd be able to get or ships out of there in time before the entire thing explodes. We'd have to..."

"Haha!" *Brrp* *Whoosh* "Hahahaha!!!"

Merlin and Mercy spun around at the sudden flurry of strange noises and laughing behind them, to see Fluke stood by one of the consoles. They watched as Fluke strained to break wind, then held a cigarette lighter up to his butt and lit the fart that came out. As the gas ignited into a flame with a "whoosh", Fluke giggled uncontrollably.

"Uhh, princess..."
"Don't ask." Mercy turned back round. "Just don't ask."
"Uhh...okay." Merlin tried to ignore Fluke. "Are there any other ways that we could attack the Death poo?"
Mercy glanced over the blueprints again. "The entire thing is heavily armoured - a torpedo attack wouldn't even scratch it. The station has a heavy fighter squadron complement, so I doubt we could get a commando team in there to storm the station - and even if we did, it's manned by a huge number of the Empire's troopers."
"It seems that igniting the methane is our only chance." Merlin sighed. "But how do we get close enough to the tanks to attack? If only we cou..."

"Aargh!!! Aaargh!!!"
Merlin and Mercy spun around again to face Fluke, who was now running around with a trail of smoke coming from the back of his trousers.
"Fluke, what the hell is wrong?" Mercy hissed.
"I've set my arse on fire!" Fluke yelled, still running around. "Ow ow ow ow ow!!!"
"How did you...hey, wait..." Mercy tapped at the console, and the screen displaying the blueprints zoomed in on the Death Poo's cannon. "Supposing we were to get a squadron of fighters to attack the cannon just as it was firing?"
Merlin considered the idea. "With the right amount of precision, they'd probably be able to..." as the pieces of Mercy's plan began to fall into place, a huge grin formed on Merlin's face. "...they'd probably be able to ignite the methane while it was still in the cannon firing system, which would cause a chain reaction."
"And ignite the methane tanks!" Princess Mercy punched the air in elation before hunching over the console again, tapping hurriedly. "We'd better work out how we're going to get a squadron in the right place at the right time, then."

"My arse is on fire!" Fluke whimpered

 

Well, this is it. I've now posted all of the parts that I posted on the old forums. All that's past is behind us, and now you'll be reading all new Kelso Wars. This is it. Apart from me and those select couple I chose to keep a backup copy (in case anything happens to me, even death won't stop me finishing this bloody thing ), this is totally new. So let's go forward. Let us step forward onto the Ark and wash away the...no, wait, wrong forum thread.

Let us...seek out new humour

Let us...go boldly where no forumer has gone before

Let us...get sued by Paramount for using their catchphrases...shite.

Next part coming up!

 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Lydian system, the silent nothingness of space was broken by the Poo Destroyer Ecaf-Parc coming out of hyperspace. Then closely behind it, another ship – the Death Poo.

“Sir, we have arrived at our destination.”
”Excellent!” Phoenix stood up from his command chair on the bridge of the huge battlestation. “How long until we’re in firing range of the KFC base?”

“ETA to firing range is forty minutes.” The Ensign at the helm tapped a few more buttons. “We’re entering system orbit now.”

“Excellent…and this time, nothing can stop us!” Phoenix glanced at Grand Moff Spyder. “Unless someone gets hungry again. How are you, Grand Moff? Are you enjoying your meal?!” Darth Phoenix’s question reeked of sarcasm, but Spyder answered anyway.

“No, actually.” He replied after swallowing a mouthful of pizza. “It’s a bit too cold, the stuffed crust doesn’t have enough cheese in it…and since when did Burger Emperor make pizzas?” He considered this as he licked a stray scrap of pepper from his teeth, then forgot about it and took another bite.



“Hmm…well…whatever.” Phoenix turned back to the viewscreen, where there was a clear view of the target planet. “Nothing else matters now. Soon the Rebellion will be crushed…”

“Umm, sir?” Another Ensign behind Phoenix tapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry to disturb you, but I have news. We’ve lost a crew member…”



***



With no ground assault being needed for the Death Poo’s attack, the PLOKS Stormtroopers stationed aboard the Death Poo had the chance to get out of their heavy armour suits and relax for a few days. While a few of them had chosen to go straight to their quarters to sleep or take a shower, most of them were in the recreation lounge.

The talking, laughing, poker games and drinking stopped, though, as soon as Darth Phoenix hurtled through the door in a rage. He ran straight up to the bar, grabbed the biggest bottle of wine he could lay his hands on, and threw it as hard as he could onto the floor. Glass fragments and red wine flew everywhere as he glared at his soldiers.



“All right.” He hissed. “I have just one question. Which one of you bastards threw Lieutenant Princess out of the airlock?”

The Stormtroopers looked around at each other, murmured amongst themselves, pointed a few fingers, then one of them stood up and spoke.



“We all did, sir.”



Darth Phoenix grabbed another wine bottle and flung it at the trooper’s head. He barely ducked in time for the bottle to fly over his head and smash against the wall, scattering even more glass and wine all over.



“You dirty rotten bastards!” Phoenix screamed. “I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you’d do something like this! You threw her out of the airlock?! You threw Lieutenant Princess out of the airlock?!”







“You threw Lieutenant Princess out of the airlock, without asking me if I wanted to help?! I hate you all!”



***



In the KFC secret base, which obviously wasn’t so secret anymore, a mission briefing for the fighter pilots was being rushed through.



“The battlestation is a planet-sized platform with basic defences and one main weapon.” Commander Merlin explained as the blueprint flashed up on the huge display screen. “The main weapon, a huge cannon, is powerful but slow. A group of fighters would be able to avoid this cannon fire and attack the surface.”



Merlin clicked a button on the briefing podium, and the screen zoomed in on a part of the blueprint.

“After thorough analysis of the plans, we’ve discovered a weakness in the station’s defence.” The screen stopped zooming, and showed a shallow trench cut in the massive station’s hull. “Unfortunately, the weakness is too heavily defended by turrets to attack head-on. You’ll have to fly down this maintenance trench, skimming the surface, until you come to the main cannon barrel. A torpedo fired at the right time should ignite the cannon fire prematurely, creating a huge flame that will run its way down into the methane tanks and destroy the station from the inside out.”



“Excuse me for asking, sir.” Blue Squadron commander, Captain Pledge Dandilles, stood up. “But if we have to attack the cannon at such a precise time…how are we going to know when to begin the firing runs?”



Princess Mercy came up to the podium to answer this. “With the plans that we captured, we’ve learnt that the main weapon is powerful but slow. It requires a long charging time before it can eject the methane in a stream large enough to damage its target. We can track the weapon’s status from our control centre, and when the time is right, we’ll give you the order to begin the trench run.”

Dandilles nodded and sat down again.

“If we succeed in destroying this station, it will be a massive blow to the PLOKS Empire. If we fail…” Princess Mercy paused for effect. “…then the KFC Rebellion is as good as over. We’re counting on you, pilots, to show the Empire what we’re made of – and put a stop to this path of destruction they’re intent on forging. Now, are there any further questions?”



“Yeah, me…” Fluke, sat at the back of the room with a big bag of popcorn and a medium coke, put his hand up. “What time does this film start?”



“Okay.” Princess Mercy added. “Are there any further questions…from anybody with more than four brain cells?” She pointed at the only other hand that was up – Captain Dandilles again.

“Ma’am, Blue Squadron is missing a pilot.” Blue 5, Second Lieutenant Mo Onlightstars, had been sent on a system patrol five days ago and hadn’t returned. Not that he’d been ambushed by the Empire and killed – he’d accidentally flown into a spatial anomaly that led to an alternate bizarro dimension. At this moment in time, he was asleep and flying on autopilot behind a huge space-spider.

“Hmm…” Princess Mercy looked at Dandilles. Then she looked at Fluke. Then she looked at Dandilles again.



“Tell me, Fluke, have you had any experience flying small spacecraft?” Mercy asked.

“Actually, I have.” Fluke replied. “My uncle used to have a small cargo ship for making deliveries on other planets.”

“Ahh, excellent.”

“Well, when I say I’ve had experience…” Fluke threw a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewed it into lumpy popcorn paste then continued. “…I mean I sat in the co-pilot seat while my uncle flew it.”

“Oh…”

“And I was asleep for most of the journey.”

“Ahh…”

“And when I was awake, I wasn’t watching.”

Princess Mercy shrugged. “That’ll do.”

 

Shortly after the briefing, Powerwalker found himself in a pilot’s jumpsuit, strapped into the cockpit of a ZX-81 Starfly. He had just managed to strap himself into the seat, despite the lack of room in the tiny cockpit, and was now looking at the vast array of controls, switches and displays.



The ZX-81 Starfly was a small attack craft, with four separate engine outputs balanced across two wings. Cheap and easily modified, it also flew fairly well and was able to take a decent amount of damage before falling apart. Some pilots claimed that the controls were a little sluggish and badly balanced with the high speed, but that didn’t stop the ZX-81 from becoming the mainstay of the KFC’s fighter wings.



As Fluke was fiddling with a few of the switches, a head popped over the side of the cockpit. “Hey, pilot. Chief Technician Aaron Firebird, at your service.” The technician stuck his hand forward and Fluke went to shake it, but hit his elbow on the other side of the cockpit. Aaron watched in bemusement as Fluke cradled his elbow, his face going through all sorts of pained expressions. “Oww, funnybone!” Fluke hissed.



“Hmm. Anyway. I noticed you’re new on the flight roster, so I was wondering if you had any questions about flying this thing.”

“Yes.” Fluke answered. “How do I fly this thing?”

Chief Firebird laughed at this joke, then his laughing dwindled into silence as he realised Fluke was deadly serious about this question. “Oh…right. Straight from the academy, eh? Well, the ZX-81 isn’t too difficult to operate…you’ll figure it out, as long as you know the basic control layout.” Aaron leaned over, pointing out several switches, buttons and displays as he explained their purpose. “You’ve got your engine ignition; throttle control; target selection; shield and laser cannon charge controls; shield and laser status displays; communications system; emergency eject; and here,” he pointed to a device not unlike a mouse scroll wheel on the top of the control joystick, “is your secondary weapon toggle. Your ship is loaded with one Trojan light torpedo, fourteen X-42 heat-seeking missiles and sixteen CM anti-missile countermeasure mines. Use the toggle to select, then the button right next to it to fire. Got it?”

Fluke gazed over the controls, trying to remember which did which. Then he looked up at Firebird and grinned. “Got it – the controls are laid out like the ones on my landspeeder back home! By the way…” Fluke pointed at the eject button, which was hidden behind a thin sheet of plastiglass to avoid accidental activation, but was big enough for a pilot to punch through in a frenzied panic and activate. “…the ‘eject’ button. I’ve never seen one of those before, what does it do?”



Aaron opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped. He glanced back and forth between Fluke and the eject button, then shut his mouth into a smile. “Nothing.” He finally answered. “It’s not important. Forget I mentioned it.” Deciding to change the subject, Aaron glanced back at a loading crane that was lowering Kat86 into the navigation droid cavity. “Hey, your R2 unit looks a bit beat up. Are you sure you don’t want a new one?”

“Oh, I’m sure, Chief.” Fluke grinned. “That little droid and me have been through a lot!”

“Are you certain? Honestly, this R2 unit is the worst one I’ve ever seen. It’s covered in burns and stains…and it smells of poo as well…”



A sudden fit of bleeping from Kat86 brought Fluke’s attention to his fighter’s visual display unit, where the droid’s language of bleeps and whistles were translated to basic galactic language.



Tell that jumped-up grease monkey to go fuck himself



Fluke decided not to tell.



***





Not long afterwards, the entire fighter wing of the KFC forces had launched and were speeding towards the Death Poo. Back in his command chair, Darth Phoenix glowered at the Death Poo’s huge viewscreen as they came into view.

“Sir, the KFC base is launching fighters.”



“Scramble the fighter squadrons and bring our turret defences online.” Although he was certain of the Death Poo’s invulnerability to fighter attacks, Darth Phoenix was well aware that the Ecaf-Parc was not as strong. “Order the flagship to keep its distance from the battle.”



***



“They’ve launched fighters.” Pledge Dandilles prepared for combat as she gave orders to her squadron. “Cut to attack speed. Blue Squadron, report in.”

“Blue two reporting in.”

“Blue three reporting in”

“Blue four toking up…ahh, that’s better.”

“Blue five…hey, what does this button do? Oh…”

“Blue six, ready and waiting.”

“Blue seven, itchin’ to hit ‘em where it hurts!”

“Blue eight, itching to turn around and run the fuck away.”

“Blue nine, this fighter stinks and flies like a dead slug. Oh, and so do you, Fluke.”

“Blue ten, all present and correct.”

“Blue eleven, all present and erect, yeah baby!”

“Blue twelve, ready with the Last Rites.”



“Blue squadron, break formation and attack. May the Farce be with us.”



***



“We have fourteen minutes until the Death Poo is in range.” Fleet Commander Merlin watched as the display table showed what was happening in space. “Do you think our pilots can eliminate the enemy fighters in time?”

“The spy who gave me the plans said the station was still understocked.” The Princess replied from the other end of the table. “If that information is still correct, the fighter complement is 50% of the number in the blueprints.”

“Thirty six fighters?” After studying the blueprints for so long, Merlin remembered almost every detail. He sincerely hoped the Death Poo would be in the set of Top Trumps Kelso Wars Special Edition Cards, because he knew he’d kick everybody’s arse with it. “Hmm…an entire squadron more than us. Those aren’t good odds.”





***



“Bandit on my six…I can’t shake him!”

“Hold on, Blue ten.” Pledge cut throttle to a third of full and pulled a sickeningly tight turn that placed her right on ten’s attacker. Without a moment’s hesitation, she squeezed her fighter’s trigger and unleashed a flurry of laser bolts at the enemy fighter. The PLOKs pilot didn’t even see the end coming as his fighter exploded around him.

“Thanks, Blue Leader.”

“No problem.” Dandilles looked to her starboard and noticed the Ecaf-Parc retreating to a safe distance. “Hey, the PLOKs flagship is trying to escape.”

“Probably trying to minimise capital ship damage.”

“If we send a group of bombers towards it, we might be able to distract some of these fighters.”

“Good idea. Purple Squadron, follow my lead.” Major Fleassy, commander of the KFC’s finest bomber squadron, turned her fighter to close in on the Ecaf-Parc. Eleven other pilots followed suit behind her. Sure enough, as the PLOKs pilots noticed the squadron heading for the Imperial flagship, nearly a quarter of them gave chase. As Pledge lined up on the tail of one, she switched to heat seeking missiles. She fired one straight away, relying on her gunnery skills rather than allowing the missile sufficient time to lock onto its target. The missile shot from her fighter’s fuselage straight towards the enemy group, and went straight between two fighters. Not missing a beat, Dandilles fired a burst of lasers at her missile. The laser bolts struck it as it skimmed the wings of the two enemy fighters, catching them both in the aftershock. Both pilots, totally unaware of what happened, barely had time to punch eject before their fighters exploded.



Five more Blue Squadron fighters swooped in on the remaining followers, swiftly neutralising them.



“Good job, Blue Squadron. That should make the fight more balanced for…”

“KFC fighters, this is HQ. Proceed to the Death Poo attack run waypoint and prepare for the final step.”



“Roger that, HQ. Purple Squadron proceeding as planned.”
”Blue Squadron proceeding to the Death Poo. We’ve got your backs, Purple Squad.”



***



“Sir…some of the KFC fighters have broken off from combat.” The Ensign looked up in horror. “They’re heading towards the Death Poo!”

“What? That’s…” Darth Phoenix tried to think of a word to finish his sentence. Impossible? No, it’s clearly not impossible, because they’ve already done it. If it were impossible, they would not have been able to.

Improbable? No, it doesn’t sound as snappy as impossible. Futile? No, too Star Trek. Oh, wait, here we are…

“…that’s…very, very silly.” He finished. “Surely they know this station has no weakness!”

“Maybe they found one?” The Ensign suggested.

“No weakness…surely they know…”

Darth Phoenix cast his mind back to the original concept of the Death Poo, when he and Grand Moff Spyder had been out drinking one night. He remembered stealing somebody’s cigarette lighter, leaning over and trying to light his farts. He remembered Spyder remarking that he should be careful, or he’d burn his ass hairs off. It was after that remark that he and Spyder had the idea for a huge station with enough firepower to destroy worlds.

The ass hair comment echoed in Phoenix’s head. He could picture the scene in his head. Then it clicked.



“They’re trying to singe my curlies!” Darth Phoenix yelled. Everybody on the bridge turned around to stare at him, and Phoenix realised he was back in the present. “Umm, I mean, they’re trying to ignite the methane before it clears the cannon!”



He quickly turned to a random officer. “Have the technicians prepare my fighter. I shall take care of this personally….”

 

“KFC fighters, this is HQ. We have eight minutes before the Death Poo is in range. The cannon should be preparing to fire. Proceed to the trench run waypoint marker and begin your runs ASAP. Good luck.”



“Roger, command.” Major Fleassy pushed her control stick down to dive. “We’re going in.”

“Blue squadron, cut across the surface and try to draw turret fire away from Purple.” Dandilles ordered. The remaining PLOKs fighters were no longer the main threat. Even as she banked to catch a glimpse of Purple squadron flying towards the trench, she could see the turrets start to fire massive bursts of green bolts.



Fluke zoomed towards the surface and pulled back hard on his control stick to skim between a pair of anti-fighter guns. Speeding across the dirty brown surface of the massive battlestation, he squeezed his trigger and fired a few laser shots at the surface. The shots sparked against the surface, doing little visible damage. He pulled up again as he noticed a PLOKs fighter creeping up onto his tail. Then, as he was about to evade, a shiver ran down his spine and he heard a ghostly whisper.



“Fluke…”



“Fly-Gonn?!” Fluke’s eyes darted around his Starfly’s cramped cockpit for a sign of his old master, but he couldn’t see anything except displays and controls. He stared outside at the stars and repeated himself. “Fly-Gonn…”



“Fluke…Fluke…FLUKE!!” He jumped back into the world of the conscious as Pledge screamed at him through the comms. “Bandit on your tail! For fucks sake, evade!”


”Um, oh right yeah..” Fluke swerved left just as his pursuer fired, barely escaping the burst of fire with a scratched wing and weakened shields. The PLOKs fighter tried to line up for another shot, but Pledge Dandilles sent a heatseeker after him. As the PLOKs fighter pilot tried to dodge the missile and Dandilles prepared to finish him off, Fluke dived towards the surface to strafe the gun towers again.



***



Grand Moff Spyder stood by the Death Poo’s huge display screen, hands behind his back, watching the KFC fighters trying to attack the battlestation. He allowed a smile to creep onto his face as he counted down the minutes, the seconds, to the KFC’s inevitable defeat.

A young Lieutenant, hesitant to break his superior’s mood, crept up to him and coughed quietly. Spyder turned towards him.

“Uhh, sir. Darth Phoenix believes the KFC may have discovered a weakness in the station. Should I have your shuttle prepared?”

The Grand Moff looked at his junior officer in disbelief. “Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances!” Spyder returned to his countdown.

“Ok…umm…sir, one more thing?” Spyder rolled his eyes as he was interrupted again.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“We’ve run out of Guinness.”
”What? Crap. Tell hangar control to have my shuttle prepared, I’ll be departing early. Got to get to the off licence before it closes.” Spyder ran towards the lift in the corner of the bridge.



Although he didn’t know it at the time, Spyder’s shuttle would launch from the Death Poo just minutes before it exploded. If he hadn’t been in such a rush to get more Guinness, he would have still have been on board the massive battlestation as it exploded. Guinness Co later claimed this as final concrete proof that “Guinness is good for you”.



***



“Form up on me and head for the cannon!” Darth Phoenix ordered.

“Yes sir.” His escorts, two elite soldiers and pilots who were officially assigned as Phoenix’s bodyguards, matched speed and direction with their leader. “Estimated time to arrival is five minutes at maximum speed, sir.”
”What?! Five minutes?”

“Yessir.” The bodyguard replied. When the Death Poo was designed, the engineering crews decided that having the hangar bay at the opposite side to the main weapon was the best idea. One reason for this was that it prevented small fragments of destroyed targets from flying into the hangar bay, damaging equipment and injuring personnel. Another reason was that the engineers were extremely lazy and couldn’t be arsed to work out a design with two hangars at opposite ends of the station, halving response time to the station’s farthest point in the possibility of an attack. Tacticians and engineers across the galaxy nowadays agree that, if the chief engineer of the design team had spent more time studying the blueprints and less time searching the Interwebs for nudie pics of galactic rock sensation Sir Norm Ijom, leader of Planet Americia's top olfactory rock band The Odors, the PLOKs forces would have defeated the KFC hands down.



“Very well.” Phoenix silently cursed the engineering team. “Full speed ahead.”



***



As Phoenix and his wingmen came ever closer, the final attack runs had already began. Purple squadron had split into three groups of four. As one group fired their torpedoes at the cannon, the next one dived into the trench to begin their attack. This way, each group of three had enough space in the narrow trench to fly, and each group had four chances of making a successful shot. Four ships pulling away from the trench also meant the station’s laser gunners were split, giving each pilot a slightly better chance of making it out alive.



Always one to lead by example, Fleassy was leader of the first group in.



Into the trench…She thought as her fighter dived. Easy…easy…right. Switch to torpedo. The exact position the torpedo had to impact to successfully ignite the methane had been loaded into the fighters’ R2 units, and Fleassy’s R2 unit switched the fighter’s target computers to this automatically. Line up for the shot…nice and slowly…could run out of space here pretty fast. The computer bleeped as the target came into range and the torpedo began to lock on. Doing fine…doing fine. Keep low, those defence lasers could really hurt. Keep steady…keep steady…keep steady…Suddenly, the computer bleeped again to confirm the torpedo had locked on. Fire! She pushed the missile launch button down and pulled away from the trench at nearly the same time as her wingmates. As they came out of the trench and into the firing sights of the lasers surrounding the cannon, all four of them rolled their ships in mad circles and turns to avoid being hit.



“Did it go in?”

“Negative, HQ.” Major Fleassy could see the four warheads faltering in their flight paths and hitting the sides and bottom of the trench. “They didn’t go in. Group two, begin your run.”



***



Darth Phoenix could barely see the specks of light bouncing from the four fighters as they pulled away from the trench. He held his breath as he waited for a telltale sign that one had hit their target. He was immensely relieved when a warning lick of flame failed to shoot from the cannon.



Phoenix assessed the situation. He and his wingmen were heading straight towards the cannon, with the trench stretching out after it. With the right timing and stealthy flying, he knew he’d have the element of surprise on his side.

“Activate stealth mode and stay low. Prepare to attack.” Phoenix flicked a switch on his control panel that activated the experimental stealth mode, a feature that was currently only installed on elite pilots’ fighters. The stealth mode worked by minimising a fighter’s radar signature, often using another source to completely mask the ship from enemy radar. With stealth mode activated, Phoenix and his wingmen sped towards the KFC fighter groups, ready to wreak havoc....

 

Group two pulled up from the trench as their missiles shot towards the cannon, went straight over and impacted on the Death Poo’s heavy armour.



“They didn’t go in. Repeat, negative on impact, command. Group three, begin your run.”

“This is group three, we’re coming up on the target…keep those fighters off us…locking on.” Purple Nine’s past flashed before him as the torpedo locked on. He kept his Starfly flying in a perfectly straight line as the target computer gave confirmation of lock, and Nine’s future began to flash past his eyes as he laid his thumb on the launch button. Hero of the KFC. Destroyer of the Death Poo. Living legend.



Then, just before the flashforward got to the really good part, a lone PLOKs fighter swooped in from the other side of the cannon and let a burst of laser loose. Nine’s future began looking grimmer as his ship was hit, swerved off course and ploughed into the trench wall before exploding into pieces. Darth Phoenix dived into the trench and buzzed the remaining fighters of group three, giving them just enough time to wonder what the hell was happening before Phoenix’s wingmen joined the fight. The three survivors panicked, fired their torpedoes and pulled up. One attempted to turn towards the two new enemies to fight, but a well-placed shot from the left wingman blasted the fighter into shreds. The remaining pair simply tried to get away and rejoin the KFC fighter group. One of them successfully dodged the barrage of laser fire, but the other was hit in the engines by a Death Poo turret. The crippled fighter drifted in space as the only survivor sped back towards the KFC fighter group.



“Don’t chase him.” Darth Phoenix ordered. “We’re here to protect the cannon. We’ll take them out group by group. Form on my wing.”
“Yessir.” The two bodyguards followed Phoenix as he swerved left from the trench, coming to a stop near to a sensor tower. The interference from the sensor tower completely covered the elite pilots’ radar signatures, rendering them invisible to their opponents.

 

I think that Fluke Powerwalker needs a bit of a pasting, bring it on!
Ahh, reminds me of that old space game. I used to whup your ass in real time state of the art, pulse racing, bass pumping, jaw dropping space combat (two triangles and a load of little dots) back then too....

 

Actually, if I remember correctly, I was the one kicking your ass.

Then we got MissMercy and Sunny into the game (speaking of which, guess what I just lost?) and we formed a little squadron. We tried a 2v2 match, but with those two on the same side it was a little one-sided. They left, saying it was a bit too complex/geeky.


Then I kicked your ass again for good measure.

Good times indeed...

 

“Guys! Did you see that?!”

“What happened, Ten?” Major Fleassy had seen the third group’s firing run, but Phoenix’s attack had been swift enough to escape her eye. She’d only seen three explosions, and was already wondering what had gone wrong.

“They came from nowhere…I couldn’t count how many there were!” Purple Ten was in a state of shock after such a fast, aggressive attack. “Whatever it was, it took out the rest of my group. I couldn’t even see them, they came in so fast…”



Dandilles checked her radar. The remaining PLOKs fighters were putting up considerable resistance. Between dodging turret fire and trying to keep the PLOKs fighters off the trench, the KFC fighters were thinly stretched. Her radar also showed no sign of the fighters that had ambushed the third group.



“KFC fighters, this is HQ. One minute thirty seconds to range and counting!”

“Damn it.” Dandilles threw together the best plan she could think of in such short time. “Blue Squad, we don’t have enough time to take it in three groups. I want two groups of six, five seconds between each group. Purple Squadron, cover us. Keep an eye out for those phantom fighters! Blue seven thru twelve, start your attack run. Blue two thru six, form up on me and get ready. Now!”



Half of Blue Squad broke off from the remaining PLOKs fighters and headed towards the trench. A number of PLOKs fighters followed them down, as Dandilles guessed they would.

“Group two, follow the enemy fighters. Let’s give group one some help.”

The six Starfly fighters dived into the trench behind the PLOKs fighters, preparing to take out as many as they could.

“Purple Squad, keep our backs clear.”
”Roger that Blue one” Major Fleassy swept past the trench, firing at the PLOKs fighters that were following the second group. “Purple Squad, you heard the Captain. Keep them clear, this is our last chance.”



“Blue One, this is Blue Seven, we’re coming up on the cannon. Locking onto target, keep those fighters off us.” Blue Seven’s hand trembled a little as the computer locked onto the target. “Locking…locked!” Blue Seven fired and pulled up hard, giving the other pilots room to fire. As he did so, an extra enemy contact appeared on his radar. Unable to evade fast enough, Blue Seven was caught by surprise as Darth Phoenix fired everything he had at him. Barely managing to eject in time, Blue Seven drifted through space as his fighter blew up.



Darth Phoenix dived into the trench as his wingmates deactivated stealth mode. The attacking group panicked as Phoenix shot past them, and were barely able to fire their torpedoes before Phoenix turned around and picked two of them off. The remaining fighters pulled up and desperately tried to dodge the turret fire.



Phoenix’s wingmates dipped into the trench and fired several shots at the torpedoes, taking five of them down. The last one veered off course and slammed into the trench wall, causing no harm to the massive weapon. The two fighters skimmed the surface, then pulled up and disappeared over the opposite end of the cannon, engaging stealth mode and disappearing from radar.



“Did they go in?”

“Negative, Captain.” Blue Four glanced at his sensors. “They were destroyed bef…” Darth Phoenix strafed the trench again, chased by several Purple Squadron fighters. He fired at the final group, hitting Blue Four straight in the engine and another fighter in the left wing. Blue four exploded immediately while the other fighter swerved out of control, hitting the trench floor and bouncing up before exploding into fragments. Phoenix spun his fighter around and headed for his wingmates, activating his stealth mode and slipping away from his attackers as he went.



The situation was looking more hopeless with every passing second. Blue Squadron’s final group, the last hope for the KFC, had been thinned out to four remaining fighters.



What the KFC fighter pilots didn’t realise was that these attacks were, indeed, hopeless. An undetectable magnetic flux that came from one of the cannon’s target sensors was resetting the torpedo flight paths, sending them flying in random directions and into the walls of the trench. Only a pilot with the reflexes and skill of a Farce user would be able to correct for the magnetic field and hit the target from the trench. The only pilot with Farce training was currently near to soiling his skivvies as he tried to keep on Dandilles’ wing.



Although Darth Phoenix and his wingmen had disappeared for the moment, the PLOKs fighters behind the final group were still causing chaos. As Blue Squad edged closer and closer to the final target, one of the fighters took a potshot at the KFC group. It hit one of the Starflys, which began sparking and billowing smoke from its top-left engine.

“I’m hit!” Blue two yelled.

“Pull out, Blue two.” Dandilles ordered.

“No…I can hold it…I can hold it..” struggling to compensate for the destroyed engine, Blue two began sliding to the left.

“I…can…oh, bugger.” Blue two hit the side of the trench. A line of sparks ran from the wall as the fighter collided, then exploded. Obviously satisfied with this result, the same PLOKs fighter fired again. This time it hit Pledge Dandilles’ fighter square between the bottom left engine and the fuselage.

“I’m hit!” Dandilles tried to keep her fighter flying straight, but it began leaning to the left. “I can’t stay with you.”

“Pull out, Pledge!” Replied Blue Three.

“Sorry…” Pledge felt deflated as she pulled out of the trench, shunting all her fighter’s energy to shields for protection against the turrets. “May the Farce be with you.”



The Farce…thought Fluke. He was now one of two pilots in the trench. Purple Squadron were taking care of the fighters behind them, but the most important part of the operation laid ahead. As he gritted his teeth and prepared for the final attack, he felt another shiver down his spine.



Fluke…Fluke…

“Fly-Gonn?” Fluke whispered.

“Fluke…what the fuck? I’m a ghost!”

Fluke decided that it wasn’t the time for a discussion on the paranormal. He checked his Starfly’s status screens and switched the little fighter’s laser cannons off. “Energy best saved for shields.” He murmered to himself. Then he rested his thumb on the weapon toggle wheel. And it was then that he realised something which made him feel sick.

“Hang on.” He said out loud. “Nobody’s told me what weapon to use!” He rolled the toggle wheel and the weapon display popped up.



X-42 HS

CM Mine

Trojan Torp



Nothing sounded familiar. As he stared at the names, the display disappared. He rolled the wheel again to bring the display back up.



X-42 HS

CM Mine

Trojan Torp



As he mouthed the names to himself, desperately trying to jog his memory, he heard another ghostly whisper in his ear…



“Fluke…Fluke, trust me…”

Fluke Powerwalker held his breath as he tried to concentrate on the whisper, the trench and his weapon display all at the same time. Then, just as Blue Three fired his torpedo and pulled up, Fly-Gonn spoke again.



“Use the horse, Fluke!”

Fluke glanced at his weapon display and grinned. He silently thanked Fly-Gonn as he selected the Trojan light torpedo. His fighter passed over the Death Poo’s cannon target sensor that had reset all the previous torpedo flight paths, and the Trojan locked on almost instantly. Barely fifty metres from the end of the trench, Fluke applied light pressure to his trigger. A calm feeling washed over him, despite the situation. Within this moment, he felt connected to the entire universe, a part of the Farce.



“HEY, FLUKE!” Fly-Gonn yelled suddenly, breaking Fluke’s concentration. “HAVE YA BONKED THAT PRINCESS CHICK YET?!”

“Argh!” Fluke yelled back as he jumped, nearly making his fighter swerve into the trench wall. His thumb and fingers slipped on the control stick, accidentally selecting and firing all his anti-missile mines.

“Oops.” Fly-Gonn paused. “Ah well. It’s not the end of the world. Oh, wait, it is.”

 

Fluke looked on in hopelessness as the cannon’s firing cycle began. The methane stored in the cannon began to seep out, ready to be ignited on command. Too close to attempt another torpedo lock, and too late to retry the trench run, Fluke could only watch helplessly as the methane spewed forth.







Then, something wholly improbable happened.

Darth Phoenix and his wingmen shot out of nowhere, preparing to destroy the KFC torpedoes and blast another one of the rebel pilots out of space. Since Blue Three’s torpedo had already gone off target and blown up harmlessly, they were surprised to find no torpedoes heading towards the cannon. However, they were surprised to see a volley of sixteen CM anti-missile countermeasure mines, which had bounced off the trench walls and scattered everywhere, heading straight for them. Darth Phoenix’s right hand wingman evaded, dodging most of the mines before they could hit him. Darth Phoenix himself was hit by two of the mines, destroying his fighter’s energy core and leaving him drifting in space on emegency life support.



Phoenix’s left hand wingman evaded all but one of the mines, which hit his right wing. He veered out of control, headed straight towards the Death Poo’s surface in a mad dive, plunged straight into the cannon and exploded. The explosion set the methane off prematurely, creating an explosion that ran back through the cannon and deep into the methane storage tanks. As the KFC and PLOKs forced watched with astonishment, a chain reaction began that would effortlessly destroy the Death Poo from the inside out.



“Fluke!” Princess Mercy yelled. “Fluke! You did it!”

“Uhh…I did?”

“Yeah! Now get out of…”

“I did it!” Fluke screamed in joy. “Yeeeeeeeeehaw! I destroyed the Death Poo!”
”Yes you did, now…”

“Hahaha! I’m a great pilot!” Fluke pushed his throttle to full and skimmed the Death Poo surface, randomly firing at lifeless turrets and sensor towers. “I’m invincible! Nothing can harm me now! Wheeeeeeeee!!!!!”
”Fluke, you’ve got to…”

“Nothing can stop me!”

“Fluke, shut the hell up and get out of range before the Death Poo explodes and takes you with it!”

“What? Oh, crap…” The Death Poo exploded.