300 miles above the shimmering planet, Captain Brace Moanstar, newly appointed Beta Sector Commander, studied the image in the omni-scope, his eyes glittering with rage. Soon, he thought to himself, soon we shall be avenged for our humiliation at the Shartir Wormhole.
The Starship Yoke of Destiny had arrived unexpectedly and with overtones of blisteringly heavy irony at the home planet of the voracious and semi-literate Space Wolves. The planet was called Wolfdoom. What a stupid name, thought Moanstar. It was a planet mysteriously shrouded by a shroud of almost pure mystery (and some evil). A collective moo of moderate indignation was torn from the throats of his crew as the homeworld of their deadly arch-enemies appeared on the main viewscreen.
"Bounder!" snapped Moanstar. The debonair science officer hurried to the Captain's side, his mannish udder swaying gently, a new gold ring, gaudy by Space Corp standards, hung from his still tender nose.
"I need options, Hide," said the battle-hardened hero. "Our righteous fury must be unleashed!"
"I've analyzed their planetary defense network, Captain." Bounder said eagerly, "and if it's precisely calculated, I believe they're wide open to a methane cluster bomb attack. We'll need to loosen them up first with a few braying catcalls, however."
The Captain's mind worked at breakneck speed, but to no avail. He knew next to nothing of military tactics.
"What do you think, Hoovesmason?"
"It might work Captain, it might just work!" the crippled Lieutenant exclaimed. "But the retaliation could be brutal," he added soberly.
"It's decision time," said Moanstar. His sternly chiseled visage was suddenly surrounded by an aura of pulsing light flung off by a dying proto-star. His officers gasped in unison. Their love for the Captain had never been more intense, more quasi-homosexual in nature than at that moment, a moment that seemed to reveal his true inner metal in all its bovine glory, while at the same time obscuring his almost criminal inability to make a decision of any kind.
He glanced at Cal Udrang. The hard-bitten first officer (he had been bitten by wolves), was leaning casually against a bulkhead smoking a cigarette. Udrang nodded imperceptively.
Moanstar's expression hardened. His anger burned white hot. "Go to attack speed," he said. The sudden release of sexual tension on the bridge was palpable.
"Commence videophone assault!" he ordered. His officers dialed, then began shouting insults at their targets on the surface.
"Ready targeting computers. Lock in firing solution!"
"Clickity clickity clack," said the computers.
"FIRE!" roared Moanstar. Udrang's nicotine-stained hoof stabbed at a red button. The starship lurched as multiple warheads were ejected from her smooth flanks in an erotic frenzy of destruction.
Tiny orange clouds began blossoming on the planet below.
"Success Captain!" shouted Hide Bounder gleefully. "Primary targets obliterated, secondarys too!"
The abrupt and irritating sound of warning klaxons filled the bridge. "Warning!" said the computer. "Warning! Orbital satellite missile launch. Multiple warheads. Warning! Warning! Missiles have acquired. Repeat: Missiles have acquired."
Brace Moanstar screamed like a heifer. "GET US OUT OF HERE! DEPLOY COUNTERMEASURES!"
The deck grew slick as wave after wave of thick Space Cow urine was released by fear loosened sphincters. A shattering explosion rocked the ship. Black smoke began pouring from the vents. Moanstar's hooves splayed helplessly as he tried to maintain his balance.
"GO TO WARP! GO TO WA-" The crew were thrown off their hooves as a second missile detonated directly beneath them. They smelled the scorched flesh of the Luckless Hoovesmason.
"Aaarrrgghh! My leg!" screamed Hoovesmason.
The velvety black touch of hyperspace caressed them as they sank gratefully into oblivion...
© 2003 by Craig Snyder