Lord of Water II – Global Evaporation

Chapter 18 – Game Over

Slab sat, chuffed over what had been the most satisfying day to date on this water planet mission. He was down on one Rig with a no report coming in and no communication. But it stood there in line so he just figured the operator had fallen asleep or something, 

“I will check on it in the following day. We are all set and tonight, I just feel like a little chill time,” he spoke to himself with a smug little grin on his face.

Slab set the monitorship controls on pause with it hovering back one third along the line of Rigs, a comfortable view of all below. He took a tablet from the right sleeve and placed the all-dimensional play headset over his head. Time for some fun with his favorite game: Evaporation of Galaxy Federal Forces. Based on the defeat of the same interstellar forces that had banished the dark beings from this universe so long ago, the story though had been twisted with the good guys, of course, being the most evil of all and “evil Interstellar Forces” deserving of the most excruciating death ever imaginable. Pain and amnesia for eternity, trapped in a magnetic torture field holding them in immortal torture. 

For so many millennia past, a game had been the closest that the dark beings of the wormhole had ever come to obtaining much-desired revenge. Now, with one of the most fruitful galaxies laced quite plump with water planets, this precious planet would be the first to topple the balance and reverse the universal flow of power so long desired, planned for, and sought after. Slab much preferred the game than the real-life war at hand. For one, it took time out of everything. Time, being his biggest source of hatred and along with the common hungry purpose of all his race, he desired black and solidity for all so deep down inside his black soul. Slab headed into one of his favorite chapters within the game; destroying a lush and spiritual sector of the outer deep Milky Way. A peaceful and balanced planet left to the wild and free from any technology of a destructive nature. His only challenge was to slip past the “Galaxial Marshal Forces” and have his fill of torture, rape and freeze into painful time warps one at a time, evaporated and condensed into an almost disintegrated nothingness.

The only thing Slab enjoyed more was to slingshot his captives one at a time into the vacuum of space, watching the life slowly sucking out of their squirming bodies. He sat deep within the experience of his helmet and, if not for the alarm set for the morning, would stay inside forever, drooling and writhing in the pleasure that he felt so deep inside.

Shane lifted up to the base of the first chosen Rig. This was no longer an observation mission to see what needed to be dealt with, this is the mission. Time to go to work and one at a time, take out these Rig operators until the line can no longer hold itself. 

“It is just a matter of time until we take out enough to overbalance this row,” Shane spoke internally to himself as he often did, calculating and executing the steps of the mission. 

The lower crew terminal was now the first and easy target to take out and deliver the “Weeper” to. Shane left him sobbing on the lower deck and ascended to the operator taking him out of service in a similar manner. He set the controls all on idle, but with no member in place to execute the final stage of water transference into transportable antimatter, the Rigs were no more than a useless standing tower mast. Just to be certain, he set the timer to commence “detelescopation” in two days time. Estimating one more night to take out the remaining balance and with no intention of being spotted by the idiotic Monitor above, there is no thought of failure. 

The night’s work had come in from random attacks through the line of the Rigs with now only eleven left to go. There had been a few encounters with slicer sharks through the night, but nothing the dorsals were unable to make short work of. Shane marked the notches on his belt and, with the pile of sobbing Rig crew and operators now slobbering on the deck of Hi-Sun, it was time to cut and run before the dawn began cutting across the horizon.

Shane slipped back on deck as Gary swiftly drew Hi-Sun to the side and ducking over the horizon before any sign of light began to cast the skies. 

“These are the ugliest and smelliest pile of disgusting slobs that I have ever seen in all of my days.” Muttered Gary as if talking out loud to himself, “Can we just put them out of their misery my Lord?”

“There’s no need, Gary,” answered Shane, “They won’t harm anyone again. Your short time satisfaction will not do any good for your long term state of mind. These poor beings are nothing more than the slave victims that this disgusting wormhole race wishes you and me to be. They were once also a free and productive species. Now they can go back to their long lost state of existence.”

“They are still ugly,” Gary spoke getting in the last word.

Shane smiled for the first time in a few days enjoying the spirit of play that Gary always managed to express.

Above it all, Slab slammed the game tablet in a fit of disgusted anger as the Marshals within the game had “foiled” him again. He finally, almost completed this “impossible” level. 

“Damn the Marshals!” he screamed as he shuddered in his chair, “God I hate this game.” 

A night of pleasure had turned into massive disappointed as another unwelcome day lifting across the horizon.  Slab took a deep breath and reached for a carbon bar as he scanned across the monitor screens. When he pinged out to all Rigs for updates and attention receipts, just over half returned to attention.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarh! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn I hate this s**thole.”

Deserted by almost half of his crew, Slab knew that less than half a crew would be the end of his mission and only give him retreat in shame as an option.

There would be no returning unless the mission is accomplished.

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