Encounter
with Dung Creatures
by
Junior
We were on routine patrol
somewhere in the outer quadrant on the Bi-Terrentine sector of Galaxy 5.
Lulled by the routine nature of our flight, Colonel Munk was playing the
electric-flute, and my mind was doing algorithms based on light-year relationships
to solar flares when our beam began to malfunction. Rushing to the controls,
I manipulated the Velososurger and added maximum power, but the beam did
not respond.
"Trank it, Bomzart!" Colonel
Munk shouted. "We've gotten into magnetic drag in connection with a Black
Hole. Stand by controls!"
"I've got to weewee," I
said, a shudder racing through me. Colonel Munk was the rock of Asturian
Air Command, not a man to lose composure. To see him go into an emergency
de-flute, sweat beading on his forehead, was a frightening sight, comparable
to being rear-ended by a maverick Red Dwarf.
As the beam began to yaw
uncontrollably, I began to pray to Number One.
"Architect of the universe,
foremost among seven known deities, spare me, and I vow that I shall operate
on emergency power, not only on holidays, but routinely throughout my lifetime."
Colonel Munk looked at me
scornfully. "Don't just stand there offering vague imprecations to a second-rate
god, Bomzart. Use your expertise!"
I shuddered. Graduating
last in my class in thermo-flight-dynamics had not equipped me to take
a beam through a radical force field where ionization was present. Counter-balancing
the magnetic drag created by maverick pulsars bursting into our universe
sent us tumbling out of control at 70,000 land-measures- per-second, the
beam juddering and creaking just short of implosion.
Then suddenly, Colonel Munk
shouted, "Holy heart-attack; we're going to crash." It was only by the
blindest luck that the beam's safety chutes deployed at the last instant.
There was a horrible thud
as the chutes burst open; we withstood nine-universal-planetary-G's, and
then the beam ratcheted to a safe landing. For over an hour, Colonel Munk
and I worked frantically trying to restore power before hostiles might
descend upon us, but we could only generate feeble whimpers from the force
units.
"OK, Bomzart," the Colonel
said. " The cells are going to need time to replenish. In the meantime
we'll have a look around."
Minimizing the beam, we
stepped out onto a grassy veldt, so unlike our own rocky planet. The primary
energy source for this planet blazed with the fury of hydrogen, and the
two of us broke into instant sweat.
"Great Nu this place is
over-heated," Colonel Munk exclaimed as our boots sank into unfamiliar
grass. We hadn't gone over a half-a-land-unit when we made first contact
with the inhabitants of this planet. Gigantic and gray, they stood sixteen
times our height with huge ears the size of tires and flexible noses reaching
the ground. Their strange probocises grazed the grass, swishing inscrutably.
"Stupid looking creatures,"
Colonel Munk said, "but think what excellent pets or slaves they would
make if we could bring transport-beams here to remove them to our planet."
"Actually they strike me
as somewhat noble beasts, Sir," I said, creeping forward to get a better
look.
"Noble hell! Sentimental
rubbish! They're covered with flies," Colonel Munk pointed to a huge gray
paddy one of them had obviously just excreted. "Let's claim them! Claim
them as Dung Creatures."
I was reluctant to make
such a bold move, but, as with all great men, there was no arguing with
Colonel Munk when he was determined, for he held graduate-degrees in both
physics and cathartics.
We crept forward and positioned
ourselves on a hillock where we could see upwards of twenty Dung Creatures,
lazing in knee-deep water.
"Kneel down!" Colonel Munk
commanded. I complied, and he climbed onto my back and delivered the following
speech. "In the name of the queen of Asturia, servant of seven gods in
hierarchical order, Nu being number one and the rest a bunch of second-rate
imitations; and as a certified scientist and fully-commissioned officers
of the Asturian Civil Border Patrol, we take possession of all creatures
on this planet with the honorable intention of converting all of said infidels
to worshipful obedience to the will of Nu, if and when he shall exist."
No sooner those words left
the Colonel's mouth than one of the huge gray Dung Creatures came charging
at us at a speed I measured at thirty-six small-land-units-per-interval.
Taking immediate action, Colonel Munk partially immobilized the beast with
a Tranqui-dart positioned behind the left ear.
We were just dragging the
drowsy creature aboard the beam when we heard several magnificent trumpet
blasts. Looking up, we saw a herd of the Dung Creatures stampeding towards
us in blatant disregard for traffic ordinances.
"What do we do now?" I cried,
frantically trying to consult my manual of emergency procedures. However,
before I could locate the proper page, I saw Colonel Munk sprinting towards
our ship, crying, "Get in the stupid beam, you idiot."
I promptly complied with
his order, maximizing at high speed and jamming the beam into full-power
mode. Unfortunately, I had overlooked one thing -- the drag created by
having the Dung Creature aboard.
Consequently, we were unable
to reach speed sufficient to escape the gravitational pull of this fiery
planet, and so we went careening sideways at tremendous warp.
As I struggled to regain
control of the beam which was tumbling end over end, Colonel Munk, for
the love of science, calmly recorded our encounter with the Dung Creatures
on voice-memory, concluding with this memorable observation, "Citizens
of this planet, though extremely large in girth, lack the rudimentary intelligence
of rock and can be expected to be difficult to train either as servants
or pets."
However, the Colonel had
no sooner committed his observations to voice-memory than the beam suddenly
yawed to a sickening 30 degree angle south-of-horizontal, and we went veering
off to the west at a velocity I estimated to be slightly under 4,000 land-units
per clock.
"Damn it, Bomzart, get this
thing under control, you ninny," Colonel Munk shouted up at me from the
place he had rolled to underneath the belly of the Dung Creature.
I'm doing my best,
sir," I cried, fearing that at any minute the Dung Creature would lose
bowel control, as the beam suddenly began to whirl circularly and lose
power. Before I could even panic again, the beam, still in invisible-mode,
settled on a smoothly mowed stretch of grass covered with snow.
"What in the name of Nu
is going on over there?" the colonel cried, wrenching himself free of the
Dung Creature and staring out the window aghast.
I rushed to the window only
to see gigantic Asturian-like figures in brilliant headgear and costumes
that enlarged their shoulders nearly to the girth of the Dung Creatures.
Inexplicably they called out numbers and then gang-crashed each other,
attempting to use brute force to pulverize one anothers' bodies. No sooner
had I gotten a fix on this strange behavior than I, also, realized we were
surrounded by thousands and thousands of Asturanoids who had mysteriously
begun to roar at us. It was terrifying.
"Quick, out of the beam
and take cover," Colonel Munk commanded. Throwing a noose about the Dung
Creature's ankle and dragging him behind me with a tether to my own leg,
I complied instantly.
At the behest of the colonel,
we scrambled towards what looked like safety. Up the steps we flew only
to be confronted by six Asturanoids who had stripped the protective clothing
from their bodies and painted large blue totemic objects on their chests.
As near as I can re-produce what they had disfigured themselves with was
a code phrase that looked like this: GO BUCKS.
No sooner than they saw
us, they began to shout gleefully and swooped down upon us. Having us at
such a size disadvantage, except for the Dung Creature, they easily swept
us up and carried us along with them.
Colonel Munk has never had a strong stomach, and he was immediately
overcome by the fumes that wreaked from the mouths of these barbarians,
which appeared to me to be some incredible toxic chemical blend much resembling
gasoline or some other primary fuel source.
Luckily I was carrying my
universal decoding device, so I was able to instantly understand their
barbarous yammering.
"Stinking, blue-haired creeps
from Michigan," one of them with an earring in his eyebrow cried.
"Space idiots," another
shouted.
"Ah give 'em a drink," a
third cried, "but not the damn elephant!"
With that we were roughly
hustled to an area overlooking the field where hundreds of identical tribes-persons
with shaved heads, guzzled the toxic substance and roared at the tops of
their voices. On Asturia we are scrupulously taught to maintain the utmost
respect for those from alternative cultures, but what I saw next repulsed
me.
The largest and fiercest
of the barbarians, one with a mat of disgusting grass on his chest, grabbed
me by the scruff of the neck and forced me to swallow the poison they were
imbibing.
Somehow I managed not to
regurgitate as Captain Munk revived suddenly and cried, "Bomzart, in the
name of the queen of Asturia and the great god Nu--destroy these heathens
at once."
"Sir," I answered, "we left
all our flashing compound in the beam."
"You'll be court-martialed
for this, Bomzart!" the Colonel shouted, but before I could worry about
my future military rank, Grassy Chest forced me to swallow more toxics,
and another cried, "The little creeps sound like Munchkins."
"We ought to give 'em an
airplane ride," Grassy Chest suddenly shouted. At that the Colonel and
I were flung into a red and gray blanket, and the barbarians began to toss
us higher and higher, while I still remained tethered at the ankle to the
Dung Creature, resulting in great discomfort. However, there must have
been something intoxicating about the substance I'd ingested because each
time we bounced higher seemed more amusing to me.
I began to laugh uncontrollably,
crying, "Bounce me, Daddies, bounce me!"
Colonel Munk, however, failed
to see the humor in what we were experiencing and threatened to have my
testicles removed when we returned to Asturia, i.e., standard military
procedure for dereliction of duty.
By this point we had just
reached the apogee of our bouncing when two huge men with badges and gray
uniforms suddenly came rushing down the aisles of what I now realized was
some sort of mental hospital.
As our captors scattered,
the Colonel and I took the opportunity to gather up our Dung Creature and
race to the beam and re-launch.
With our diminished power
situation and the negative drag created by our cargo, it was beyond impossible
to control the direction of our emergency takeoff. However, we didn't care
realizing the necessity of escaping that lunatic asylum before we were
eaten alive.
Luckily the beam launched
well enough, but within 50 land units we were again tumbling headlong in
free-fall. Strapping down in emergency mode, the Colonel and I murmured
our prayers, he to Nu and I to Old, until we suddenly realized we had indeed
broken free of gravity.
I can still see the colonel
crowing as our beam rocketed at double warp back to Asturia.
"Bomzart, there are nay-sayers
who would consider this voyage an unfortunate disaster, but with this dung
creature coup, I feel we've not only had the grandest good fortune possible,
but have possibly, also, contacted the most advanced and intelligent civilization
in the nearest 26 galaxies."
"As usual, you are so right,
sir," I said, enjoying the view of dark galaxies filling with the blazing
light of the place we had just been. However, I was somewhat slightly
depressed as well, for I knew whose job it would be to clean up the seven
giant paddies of offal deposited on the colonel's hat.
In addition, the thought
of my court martial was a frightening thing though the colonel assured
me I would have half the profit garnered from display of the ignorant beast.
It was at that very moment, I realized--there was not a man on Asturia
with more nobility of soul than he whom I was so fortunate to serve under
-- Colonel Wanstrunk G. Munk III.