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My Gorn Campaign - The Final Showdown, part 2
Author's foreword: This story is the description of the final battle of My Gorn Campaign. The first part of this final installment can be found here.
And so the Gorn Battlecruiser GCS Toga Terrorizer... (what?... the ship?... OK...). I'm sorry, the Gorn Heavy Battlecruiser GCS Toga Terrorizer, (those damn SFB people can be such a pain) warped into Organian space to carry out Operation J'Accuse. Having been forewarned to expect the most unusual situation of a Romulan ally, the crew was still totally unprepared for this particular Romulan...
Author's Note: I am not making this up. Well, yes, I am making a lot of this up, but what happened next is the absolute truth. I swear it on a case of Altairian Sweet Whiskey.
"Lieutenant Gzznttn, hail the Romulan and see if you can establish his identity."
"Aye, Captain" replied Gzznttn. His eyes focused on the scanner readout. He paused and then his whole body stiffened. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper...
"It's the KillerHawk..."
The bridge was suddenly so quiet the only sound to be heard was the slow swishing of the fuzzy dice against the sacred twin icons of Gary Coombs and Bobby Clark. The quiet lasted for a few moments, then....
"RED ALERT!"
"PLASMA TUBES CHARGING!"
"ECM TO MAXIMUM!"
"FIFTY-FOUR FOURTY OR FIGHT!"
The crew scrambled about as if it was the conjunction of last call and the end of the mating season. Gorns crashed into closed doors, tripped down stairs and slipped on congealed candle wax. In the confusion one shuttle was launch prematurely from the bay to the embarrassment of the shuttle officer, the consternation of the weapon officer, and the complete dismay of a couple of enlisted personnel who were inside partaking of a cross-gender encounter.
When order was finally restored a more complete assessment of the situation was made. Yes, it was indeed the R-KHK KillerHawk Super-Heavy Cruiser which we had battled three times before. For the time being, he was our friend and ally. For now.
The viewscreen crackled and shimmered and the image of near space was replaced with a view of the bridge of the KillerHawk. The Romulan officers disdainfully gazed at their own viewscreen upon which the interior of our bridge was in turn being displayed, a scene that no doubt gave them much amusement, since it still somewhat resembled a college frat house on the morning after a particularly successful party.
"Well, Gorn, we meet again! I am Decius, Commander of the RIS Vorax. Captain, I would have though you dead by now. Considering how badly you fight, it is a wonder that your government would give you any ship to command, much less...", the irony of his tone became even more evident, "... a Heavy Battlecruiser!!!"
The Romulan bridge crew, toughened by years of ceaseless training, was able to maintain their composure during their captain's speech. Often the blank stare of a Romulan has been attributed to reduced brain function, but all reliable sources state that for the most part actual brain activity has been detected as non-existent only in certain Romulan politicians and DMV clerks.
I knew my crew felt humiliated by the Romulans and I had to take some quick action. I remembered my old Academy cultural sensitivity training. Well, for a Gorn officer, cultural sensitivity training for the most part is concerned with where on a being from any culture would they be most sensitive to torture. However, there were a brief few minutes devoted to etiquette. The Romulans are very concerned with details of manners and formalities, and even with their most formidable enemies they could always be counted on to follow protocol. This gave me an idea.
"Commander Decius, you honor us with your presence. This event calls for an ancient Gornian greeting of friendship". With that, I started hopping on one foot, slowly and with an absolutely somber look on my face.
Decius hesitated for a moment, then as Romulan etiquette required he returned the greeting by mimicking my action, hopping on one foot as solemnly as if he was attending religious services. He gave a sidelong glance to the officers on his bridge and after a few hesitations they too were soon hopping gracefully in unison. Out of the viewscreen camera view on our own bridge my officers were staring in amazement, their view switching between me and the Romulan bridge. I caught Lieutenant Gzznttn eye and I winked slowly. His face suddenly brightened in understanding and he started to whisper to the other Gorns on the bridge.
"Why, Commander Decius" I continued, "your manners are most exquisite. I must show the appreciation I feel through the revered act of the Zabbatt." And with that I began to let my tongue dart in, out and around my mouth, while still rhythmically hopping. The Romulans, feeling no doubt a mixture of awkwardness and moral superiority quickly followed my lead, tongues flailing in time with the hopping. Outside of the gaze of the Romulans my crew was doing all they could to surpress their mirth, clamping down on each other's snouts and biting down on bits of bulkhead and furniture.
"Commander Decius, your upbringing must have been included the finest finishing schools of Romulus. I offer my tribute to you by way of the Gaffarzic". With this I began to bob my head violently up and down, while still maintaining the motions of the tongue and the one foot. After such a compliment the Romulan commander felt obligated to match action for action and quickly my crew was treated to the sight of an entire Romulan bridge crew performing what would certainly have gotten them top billing on any decent offworld amateur dance night. Or arrested and put through some very extensive illicit drug rehabilitation.
Soon, however, the price of placing intellectual prowess above physical adeptness made inroads into the Romulan chorus line and one by one they teetered and crashed to the deck, till only Decius remained upright, no doubt due in no small part to his experience with welding edged weapons. He soon came to a halt and bowed deeply.
"We shall remember the honor you paid us today, my Gorn friend".
"I'm sure you will" I replied, stabbing the pin of my Gorn Good Conduct medal (another source of unintentional amusement) into my leg to help fight back a growing guffaw that was at that very moment just centimeters away from making it's escape from my torso. "Now, shall we discuss our strategy?"
A new but familiar voice was suddenly heard from just outside of the field of view of the camera on the Romulan bridge.
"Before we discuss strategy I would like to discuss the comment you made to your admiral regarding discount prices on airline tickets. We aren't selling discount tickets and you know it. We are letting you name your own price. Certainly you must have seen and heard the advertisements?"
Oh, no, it couldn't be! A Federation officer on a Romulan ship? And that officer in particular? And yet, as he stepping in view, it was indeed him.
"Why you.... you're..." I stammered.
"Let's just call me 'Fredric Brown' right now, shall we? I think the name is appropriate."
I regained my composure. "Well, certainly, Mister Brown. And exactly have you to do with this operation?"
"The Romulans have hired me to be their spokesman. While they are an intelligent and capable people they do lack marketing expertise, and their sales appeal... well, would you buy something from them? Exactly. If there are to be discussions with the Organians the Praetor felt that someone who has had previous dealings with them would be an obvious choice."
Commander Decius interrupted. "Enough of this chatter. We have a battle to fight! The ISC won't simply stand aside while we try to seduce the Organians."
I simply could not pass up this opportunity. "Perhaps you ought to discuss that with Mister Brown, Commander. It would seem that is his standard modus operandi."
Brown smiled, and then with a nod to the Romulan commander stepped back out of the field of view.
"Then let us proceed" I said and with that terminated the communication. Nothing irritates the Romulans like not getting in the last word. I ordered the crew to complete preparations for battle; charging weapons, readying decoy shuttles, and securing the liquor cabinets. Gorns are by nature difficult to order about. Add in a hefty serving of alcohol and they become as difficult to deal with as a Hydran with a personal hygiene problem. Although come to think of it, how would you know...? I shuttered and dismissed the thought.
We proceeded in towards the planet, and soon our sensors detected the ISC was there in force, two defense stations and three destroyers. Not overwhelming odds but enough to make me hesitant.
"The Romulan is speeding up and is now ahead of us" reported Lieutenant Gzznttn. Good, I thought, go up to the bear and tweak his nose. A story circulates about that the Romulan tactics manual is printed on toilet paper. It would likely be the only time a Romulan would be sitting down and inclined to read something. Apparently this commander hadn't been eating his prunes or else he would be more cautious when heading into what looked very much like a trap.
"A communication from the ISC, Captain" said Gzznttn. "It is in the form of a text message". He handed me a flyer advertising our new production of HMS Pinafore and, before I could say a word, answered my unspoken question. "It's on the back, sir. We ran out of plain paper for the printer."
Sadly it also appeared that we were running out of ink as well, as the message was almost unreadable, but I did not want to alarm the crew. The message started with the usual ISC drivel about saving the galaxy from itself and preventing the spread of violence, terror, and Starbucks. Then there was something about deathships orbiting over our home planets, and finally a call for the allies to fight it out among themselves.
"Did you just receive a message from the ISC?" asked Decius over the radio. Damn, either the ISC had contacted us both or Decius had some way of knowing we received a message. Romulans are like that annoying geek in school who keeps trying to join in the conversations of the cool kids. Sadly there was no time to give him a wedgie and stuff him in a locker. Perhaps later? I responded to the Romulan Commander in the affirmative. "Utter nonsense" he concluded, and I agreed, since arguing with a Romulan is like sticking a weasel in your pants; very little good can come of it, and there is a chance that it might invoke some permanent and rather distressing damage. We both decided to disregard the message.
"The standard ISC propaganda" I assured the crew. Gzznttn, however, looked concerned and so to placate him we went into the conference room to have a little talk.
"Nothing to worry about" I began, but at that moment the printer spun up and began to output a new message. Unfortunately this time the replacement paper stock had been inserted the wrong way up, so the text of the ISC message was intermingled almost indecipherably among the list of the crew members playing the First Lord's Sisters, Cousins, and Aunts. Two things immediately stuck me about the communiqu�. The first was that ISC were threatening to lay waste to the surface of the home planets of the Gorn and Romulans. The second was that I had been replaced in the role of Sir Joseph by the weapons officer. No, wait, it was not as bad as it seemed... my new role was to be that of Little Buttercup. A challenge to any good Gorn thespian. As much as that might sound like a oxymoron, like Lyran Intelligence Service.
"Hmmm, it says here that the ISC will reek havoc on our home planets if the Romulans and Gorns do not fight." I said to Gzznttn. "What do you make of that, Lieutenant?"
"We couldn't do that, sir. We have given our work to the Romulans to work with them on this mission. As warriors of the Gorn Empire, we can't go back on our word. As least, not sober." said Gzznttn, looking about for the key to the liquor cabinet.
"Wait, before we break open a new bottle, let's notify the admiral and get some direction." Within seconds we were in contact with Admiral Tsklwqqln, a feat accomplish through the twin miracles of sub-light technology and the deregulation of interstellar communications pricing. Just don't try to make contact during business hours.
"Admiral, we have a situation here..." I began, but he impatiently interrupted me.
"Yes, yes, I know all about it" he replied. "It's an ISC bluff. They have no intention of attacking our home worlds. And besides your mission is very important, and the lives of a few billion Gorns and Romulans don't mean a thing in this crazy, mixed up galaxy."
"You wouldn't happen to be on the home planet right now, would you, sir?"
"Ah, err, no" the admiral replied, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I am at my advanced headquarters at Starbase Twelve. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing, sir. So I should continue with the original orders that you gave me?"
"Yes, yes, continue with your mission as I originally ordered it". With that the admiral reached forward and pressed a button on the console in front of him. The picture wavered momentarily, then snapped back into focus as he leaned back and motioned to someone behind the camera. A very delectable (by Gorn standards) female in a mask, armor breastplate and very high heels moved over to the admiral and cracked her whip above his head. He whimpered and fell to his knees before her...
"Ah, Admiral" I said, "Your sub-ether communicator is still active". The admiral froze in place. His friend slowly looked towards the camera and smiled. Then with a flick of her wrist the whip came down and there was a scream. I quickly leaned over and turned off the monitor.
"Let's get back to the bridge" I told Gzznttn.
"But first, turn on the recording device."
The third half(!) of the final installment will be posted.... soon.