Having narrowly defeated the ravenous Space Wolves in a manner that defies conventional explanation, the starship Yoke of Destiny has arrived at Lacto III, a system on the rim of the Galaxy, badly in need of repairs.
Captain Brace Moanstar, twice decorated with the Cluster of Extreme Bravery for his exploits against the lumpish Gog-snails during the Gamma Uprising, stared out the view port at the growing disc of the Gargantuplex, a repair station maintained by the Space Corp to service its growing fleet. His soft, dewy eyes revealed the troubled condition of his enormous cow soul. His ship and his crew had been shattered during the battle with their arch-enemies. They�d lost the number 4 engine and couldn�t find the number 3, Moanstar was half convinced they�d never even had a number 3 engine, but that was a problem for the engineers.
His crew was in worse shape. They�d lost three cows during the first phase of the battle to a plasma eruption; their agonizing moos of pain still rang in the brave Captain's hairy ears. Hide Bounder, his rakish but dependable science officer, had suffered the indignity of having the iron ring ripped cruelly from his nose by a particularly vicious Space Wolf during hoof to paw combat. And poor Lt. Hoovesmason had lost another leg. The loyal Lieutenant could have opted to retire with full combat benefits, but choose instead to have another anti-gravity pod installed, equipped to dispense a delicious kind of frozen custard in three flavors: Chocolate, Vanilla, and Strawberry. Hoovesmason had thus become virtually irreplaceable, reflected Moanstar.
"Prepare for docking maneuvers!" Bellowed Cal Udrang, the young Jersey who had taken over as first officer when Flank Steaks, a venerable Ox who had remained with the Space Corp even after it had gone all-cow, retired. His reverie shattered, Moanstar clip-clopped his way to the first officer's station.
"Speed!" He demanded.
"200 kilometers per hour!" snapped Commander Udrang.
"Maneuvering thrusters?" inquired the Captain.
"Online!"
Slowly, the majestic starship settled into its berth. Hoovesmason breathed a sigh of relief. Dockings were always tricky. The crippled quadruped gingerly tested his newest dispenser. It worked perfectly. "Strawberry custard, Captain?"
0300 hours. Moanstar chewed his cud moodily. The crew of the Yoke of Destiny had just undergone a mind-numbing debriefing at the hands of Space Corp Intelligence. They were all looking forward to some well deserved R&R with the fetching heifers of the Gargantuplex.
"Incoming transmission, Captain."
"Patch it through, Lt. Hoovesmason."
The liquid crystal viewscreen slowly revealed a once beautiful cow gone to corpulent fat. "Yoo-hoo, Brace Honey! It's Monica, Luv! Surprise!" The shrill voice was rendered all the more hideous by the rich stereo enhancement of cutting edge Space Cow technology.
It was Monica Moanstar, ex-cow whore, currently the wife of the Galaxy�s most decorated Hero!
Moanstar gasped in horror. His wife was standing in the docking bay, fluttering her huge eyelashes and simpering like a teenager, her knobby legs barely able to hold her, despite the gentle � g field of the station.
"FULL POWER TO THRUSTERS!" Moanstar screamed, his stomachs churning crazily.
"But Captain, we�ll tear the docking bay apart...!" protested Udrang.
"DO IT MISTER!"
A terrible groan issued from the Starship as she tore herself free.
"Captain!" Hoovesmason had never seen Moanstar so un-cowed, and they�d been to hell and back together, several times.
"Hold me Hoovesmason, just hold me."
The mighty Starship accelerated into the black night of space...
© 2002 by Craig Snyder