The magical taste of intergalactic conquest pt. 3 [conclusion]

So here I am.

Xasiusriiantarizar Jzon'io Qu, 481 years later - Ex-starfleet captain, Ex-hexdillionare, and Earth-dweller against my will.

The following is a general account of how this terrifically underwhelming development in my otherwise fantastic and attractive life occurred:

"Greetings, crew," I said over the loudspeaker, "this is your well-loved, and really really ridiculously good-looking captain speaking to you now, live at least currently, from the bridge.

"First off, I'd like to thank you all for listening, not like you have a choice in the matter, but hey, a person deserves a thank you once in awhile. Secondly I'd like to point out that if I could see you, I'm sure I'd say you're all looking exceptionally froodish and beautiful today, and it's an honor to tower over such a sexy-fine crew in cold authorit-UNMF…" here I was elbowed in the ribcage by Lio who wished to convey urgency.

"…right, well to get straight to the point," I continued, "it seems as if we're going to be heading into an unplanned wormhole in just a few moments, not as horrific as it sounds I'm sure, so let's all refrain from panicking. If you cats want to stick around and wait it out you know, see where you end up and what you end up as it's all good with me, have a blast. if not, I suggest  you pop into  the nearest teleporter, lock onto something and hope for the best. Thank you all so very much, goodnight."

We hit the wormhole nearly as hard as it hit us.

We hit the sendoff button on the inside of the teleporter.

Space twisted a full circle and bent in on itself.

I hit my head very hard on a planet.

Now, teleporting from inside a wormhole is very dangerous, due mostly to the fact that almost no one has tried it, and even fewer people have been able to report  how dangerous it is.

It is, however, arguably a better choice than riding out a wormhole - by teleporting you can at least be mostly sure your atoms will come out the other end still stuck together. Although, because a wormhole is a sort of bunch in the fabric of the space time continuum, you can't be sure if your programmed destination is even in existence at the time of departure, or if it is, what stage of evolution is currently underway.

Our destination seemed to have changed its mind about existing, deciding to shift 647 lightyears to the left and forward in time at the same instance the space time continuum seemed to have changed its mind about what dimension it wanted us in.

Instead of showing up neatly back at headquarters, we were rocketed into the dirt of European Earth in the year 1530. The incredibly lucky bit is that all three of us were all sent to the same place.

I was awoken from my severe hit to the head, by a severe hit to the head.

"Wake up." He demanded.

"Shut up." I suggested.

"Seriously X-zar, get up."

I sat up. "What the hell are you wearing." I asked.

Lio's voice was emitting from underneath no less than three burlap sacks, and he was wrapped up head to toe in what appeared to be all the fabric he could find.

"I've become hideous." He explained in a voice of soft terror.

I stared at him for a long time.

"What?"

"Look, you too." He said, and offered me a broken piece of a mirror.

I blacked out again.

The tricky part about travelling across dimensions is that more likely than not, the dimension into which you come cannot usually comprehend the one out of which you came, so it makes a few corrections.

Lio and I were both of the same sinfully beautiful, magical race descended from various major deities, and were generally better than everything else in existence on every level. Apparently, this meant we were the closest in appearance to a human being.

Surely, this planet is hopelessly despicable.

Altonzax was apparently too complex, and came through as a highly intelligent strip of bacon, and it took us a couple hundred years to be able to create a electrical-impulse thought translator and holographic body for him.

X4, annoyingly, stayed exactly the same - even down to his built-in holographic body.

The next 481 years were a horrible blur, messing around until blogs were invented. All you need to know is that eventually we ended up where we are today. Because of our unchanging, youthful appearances, we are forced to attend the 'school' like the human children for the sake of blending in until maybe, someday, a ship will come close enough to hitch a ride on.

We've all adjusted as well as we could, I mean, there's only mild psychological damage…

We were even able to convince Lio to show his face and it only took 357 years.

The following entries will be my observations on the humans in efforts to understand them, to keep from going the rest of the way insane in my exile on this wretched mass of rock, and in hopes that perhaps a pattern will be detectable eventually that will lead me to whatever bastard god thought it funny to imprison me so that I can kick him or her squarely in the face should I ever manage to leave.

The magical taste of intergalactic conquest. pt.2

"Wow," said a voice in soft amazement, "you are very good at puking in that urn."

"Lots of practice." remarked another.

"I wish I were as good as you at puking in urns, but I'm not good at anything." said the first voice rather sadly.

"At least you can vomit, I can't even drink. Or eat for that matter." said a third, "Though, all worthy sacrifices for being ten times smarter than all of you combined I suppose."

"Shut up X4, so one cares about your oversized head."

The second voice stifled a snicker.

I looked up blearily.

There stood four of each of three of my best friends, Altonzax Netroid the third, Lio Stow'wd 5x7 to the power of 2, and 6428-X4700.

"Hey mans," I said equally as blearily.

"Hi X-zar," said Al happily, "you look really magnificent, are you enjoying your evening?"

"Were these all really Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blasters?" asked Lio, indicating the 15 empty glasses scattered around the floor, genuinely impressed, and more than a little jealous. He had only ever been able to drink 5, and this resulted in waking up in the hospital three weeks later on life support.

"Yes," I replied, "but after the fifth I kept misplacing them, think they must have run off."

Lio eyed the 10 charred blotches on various surfaces around the room. Looks as if they'd been spilled.

"Probably thought they'd take a nice vacation with the rest of your clothes." X4 bleeped emotionlessly.

6428-X4700 was a robot, therefore was unaffected by people's lack of clothing. Not that it was an uncommon occurrence, I seem to misplace my clothing quite often.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, wobbling slightly and grabbing at the multicolored lights dancing about in front of my face.

"We've been traveling for over 2 Scanthrapillian days with you, moron." replied Lio delicately.

"Oh," I said, thinking this over, "have we had a good time?"

"Not as good a time as you've just apparently had." remarked X4

I thought about this, too.

"Captain X-zar..." said the navigator sort of nervously, peering around at me from the hyperspace controls, "we seem to have a problem."

"Orange." I offered.

"She'll be with you in a moment, Red, what's the problem?" Lio asked the navigator, then turning to X4 and Al he said "You two find her a brain and some clothes."

After a trip into my room and to the sobriety box we returned to the bridge to find Red and Lio hunched over the hyperspace controls looking very pale and worried.

"Feeling better?" asked Lio in an annoyed tone.

"If by 'better' you mean I can now stand up, or I now feel like having several more gargle-blasters then yeah, but if by 'better' you mean like, better emotionally and mentally, perhaps spiritually, then absolutely not, and it's all your fault. But anyway, what's the deal?" I asked them before Al could.

"You wouldn't have, by any chance," began Lio tentatively, "have locked our trajectory in place towards a wormhole prior to feeling better, with anything other than your usual passcode, would you?"

"Oh," I said, realizing the direction this conversation was going in, "it's a distinct possibility."

He took a very deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Any idea what it was that you used instead?"

I thought very hard about this.

"No," I decided at last.

There was a brief silence, and everyone looked like they could use a few Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blasters.

The magical taste of intergalactic conquest.

481 Earth years ago I was lying on the attractively polished black floor of the commanding ship of my starfighter fleet laughing to myself, recently 5 planets richer and fantastically wasted.

What an great way to end a campaign, really really excellent - and it had only taken 53 ships this time. Pity most of them are now scattered atoms being split mercilessly by the impassioned blue sun of the Frugor system. 

We'd taken the system in just 2 Scanthrapillian days, a new record. Granted, most of the planets were only inhabited by small kitchen appliances and various species of fish, but that is completely unimportant.

"Captain X-zar," said a voice. One I dimly recognized to be belonging to my navigator.

I told him I'd always wondered what it would be like to sandski naked.

"Captain," he said sort of angrier, "This is important."

I sat up, as soon as I remembered which way 'up' was, and blinked a few times. "What it is," I asked him clearly. 

"Any particular reason for our heading at lightspeed directly towards a wormhole?" I stared at him until he only had one face. "A what?"

"A wormhole." He repeated.

"Well fancy that."

"Did you program the auto pilot before or after you made and began consuming 15 Gargle-Blasters?"

I thought about this very carefully.

"After," I told him nice and definitively. "It was definitely after."

"Are you going to do anything about it, or shall I?" He asked.

I stood up gracefully, knocking over just 2 potted plants and grabbing the black leather sofa for support on only my third attempt.

I realized I was only in my underwear and laughed. I poked at my belly.

"Captain," said the navigator threateningly.

"Oh hey, what? Yeah, you can do something about it. I hope you have a really nice, nice time." I said sincerely.

My navigator rolled his eyes and walked coolly over to the hyperspace controls, muttering to himself about finding a new job, perhaps joining the monastery should we ever make it back.

I didn't hear him, I was busy puking in the urn.