Hudson: Not Last Gladiator Standing

As everyone now sees, I am not competing in Last Gladiator Standing. Jon begged me to participate, he said "Hudson, pal," he said. "Last Gladiator Standing needs real superstars. Not these watered down wanna-be's like some old starship captain or faceless clone. We need you Hudson."

"I just can't do it," I answered. "It wouldn't be fair to anyone else at all."

"How so?" asked Jon with a puzzled look on his face.

"Because, Jon, I would simply beat everyone at every challenge. Hands down. End of story. Game over."

"I remain skeptical," Jon harrumphed skeptically. "What would make you the Last Gladiator Standing?"

"Because I am a gladiator."

"What?"

"Well not in name, title, or recognized by any intergalactic gladiating governing body, or even by the general public, but the blood of the gladiator runs deep in my veins."

"What?"

"Trace my lineage back," I insisted. "You'll see plenty of gladiators..."


"Start with Ancient Rome, my great ancestor Maximoose Hudson liberated the gladiators from an effete, impotent ruler who had an unhealthy obsession with his sister."


"Flash forward a few thousand years and you'll meet Hans Hudson, one of Germany's greatest bare knuckle brawlers."

"Didn't he get chopped in two by a bomber's propeller?"


"Yes, it was tragic. It doesn't stop there, though, this is Sampson Hudson, one of Mexico's most famous wrestler-slash-movie stars.


this is Rocky Hudson. Philadelphia’s greatest boxing legend. His triumphant rise from nowhere was inspired."


"Don't forget his cousin Hulk Hudson, who despite knowing only two and a half wrestling moves and having a punch that swung like a rusty barn door, rarely lost a match in his entire career."


"And last but not least, Hudson Moon. Not much is known of this mysterious stranger from the outerest reaches of outer space, but he was a Hudson alright. From head to toe."

"OK, if that's what you say, Hudson," Jon replied. "Seems pretty far fetched to me."

"OK, OK, then how come planet Hacknor has never been invaded by a hostile alien force?"

"I dunno," Jon shrugged. "Is it because there's a planet full of the universe's best warriors here?"

"Wrong."

"Is it because of Hacknor's rich history of sports gladiatorial entertainment?"

"Nope."

"Is it because the Queen's 8th Fleet is stationed just on the other side of Hacknor Prime?"

"Nope. Nope. Nope."

"Then why?"

"It's because I'm stationed here at the Colonial Marine Garrison."

"Yeah," Jon answered. "OK."

Game set and match. The victor: Hudson.

Freedom

Are we still mad at the French? Are we still eating Freedom fries instead of French fries? I’m all for that, because Freedom fries sound so cool and who wouldn’t want the opportunity to stick it to the French just a little bit? It's like shooting frogs in a barrel.

That being said, don’t forget that France wasn’t the only country the US was mad at. We were also mad at Germany, Turkey and Russia, too. So I guess it’s Freedom chocolate cake, Freedom delight and Freedom dressing for everybody. Then we could have Freedom potato salad at the Freedom Tea Room after our visit to the Freedom bath.

You can go to a restaurant and order a salad with Freedom Dressing or Freedom dressing!

In fact, I am mad at the Dutch, Canada and Italy, too, so it’s Freedom dressing on Freedom bacon in my Freedom oven. Rocky Balboa to me is the Freedom Stallion and I look forward to the migration of the Freedom goose every year.

Might as well add Sweden and Ireland to the mix as well. I’m going to have my Freedom Meatballs and Freedom Spring soap, The Freedom Chef, Freedom step dancing, Freedom herring, Freedom whiskey, Freedom coffee!

Hey, I’m not stopping there, either. I’m gonna stick it to Columbia, Mexico and Japan with Freedom neckties, Freedom midget wrestling and Freedom gardens. I’m on a roll now, so it’s going to be Freedom, not Chinese, food; Freedom, not Norwegian, Cruise Lines and I am definitely going to keep all of my money in a Freedom bank account in Zurich (I’ll stop and get a Freedom Army knife and some delicious Freedom chocolate while I am there).

But you know what? I am so mad at Turkey that I’m not even going to refer to the bird by that name. This thanksgiving, I am going to serve Freedom. It’ll be Freedom with Freedom fries and Freedom dressing.

I can’t wait to hear someone say “I am going to eat your Freedom.” Actually, now that I think of it, that sounds a little creepy. I can’t picture anybody saying that, except maybe Donald Rumsfeld.

How to speak Chicago

Everywhere I go, whether it’s Austin Texas, Atlanta Georgia, or Fire Island XIV on Planet Hacknor, I get people who talk to me about where I live.

Any time I tell someone that I live in the Windy City, their first reaction is to say “Chicago! Bang Bang!” or to ask me about Al Capone. Yes, evidently Chicago is still overrun by early 20th Century bootleggers.

Eventually, we get past that and maybe we talk about other things in Chicago. Yes, the Cubs are still bad, but the White Sox are now good. No, I’ve never met Michael Jordan personally. Yes, the pizza and the hot dogs are that good.

Sometimes, my new friends want to learn how to speak like a real Chicagoan, and sometimes, if they’re lucky, I’ll show them how.

Today is your lucky day.

There are two basic guidelines to follow when attempting to speak Chicago:

1. Get a hook.

2. Lazy Th’s.

I'll start with the lazy Th’s first. We use D’s in place of Th’s almost all the time. Da Bears, da Bulls, dat guy over dere, dis guy’s da guy. I know in New York, they do that with the Th’s as well, but when we do it, it sounds charming and colloquial. Incidentally, yelling “Da Bears!” and “Da Bulls!” is played out. Very played out.

Now for your hook, it has to be something that you can easily use to get you into the accent. This is mine: hot dogs and sausage. Say it like this: hat dahgs and sahsatch. Don’t go too heavy on the pronunciation, just have it hang somewhere between the proper Midwest sound and the way it’s spelled above.

Those are the basics; of course, there’s a big difference between certain areas of Chicagoland. Citizens of the South Side generally have the thickest accent, with the S at the end of words sounding like S, not Z, and it gets less noticeable as you go North. So you start down by 95th and Western with “Da beerss, da bratss and da Bearss,” and as you get into Winetka, it sounds more like “The sherry, the brie, at the Ravinia.”

Dere you go, dat was your lesson in how to speak Chicago. I think dat with a little practice, you’ll be good at and enjoy speaking like dis. Go ahead, give it a try.

I approached the exhaust vent

Still avoiding the enemy fighters, I bounded up to the pipe.

Suddenly, laser fire struck one of the fighters and it spun off, exploding into the inky black of space. The other two fighters turned at retaliated against their aggressor, but they were no match for Jan's piloting and the Pegasus Elite's shields.

"Go get 'em, kid!" Jan yelled to me through the radio.

"Kid? Who you callin' a kid?" I called back in mock anger.

I got close to the pipe and I shoved the banana into it. It looked like it was holding, but then the skin split and the insides of the banana spilled out.

"The banana's not working!" I said.

"Well, figure out something," Jan answered. "If those two clowns in the station get their act together, it'll mean --"

"Game over," Hudson interrupted.

I took a look at my surroundings. I was on the outside of the Death City, there were no trees or watermelons or anything that I might be able to use. I couldn't see any loose piping or couplers that I might be able to jury-rig for this, either. What could I use? What could I use?

"Hurry, Jon!" Hudson's voice cracked over the radio. "we're running out of time!"

Then I remembered a piece of advice that Fluke Starbucker gave me as I was leaving Big Brother: Naboo.

"Jon," Fluke said. "If you ever get into a situation where you need to shove some sort of object down an exaust port or tailpipe of a space station, use a raw potato instead of a banana. The banana is mushy, but the potato will be more rigid."

Silently saying "aha!" to myself, I pulled Jan's potato from the storage pocket on the space suit and shoved it into the pipe. It stuck fast!

"I got it!" I exclaimed. "Where are you guys?"

"We should be flying over you now!" Jan called back on the radio.

The ship, with it's underneath cargo doors open, slowly drifted up over my head. I fired the cable from my Wristcomm up into it and the magnetic grapple stuck fast to the bulkhead inside the ship. I quickly hoisted myself up and into the bay, then I dove for the door button and punched it, yelling "Go! Go!"

Jan gunned the engines and I tumbled to the rear of the cargo bay.

Death City's reactors began overheating because of the stuck exhaust pipe. They quickly went critical and exploded. Shockwaves hit the ship, but she kept going. Soon enough, we were far away from danger; Jan and Hudson ran into the cargo bay.

"We did it!" yelled Hudson. "We did it!"

Jan and Hudson hoisted me up and helped me get the space suit off.

"If we never have to plug the exhaust port of a space station and outrun the explosion again, I'll be happy," I breathed out in relief.

"That was pretty lucky," Jan said. "Speaking of luck, where's my lucky potato?"

"I used it to plug the pipe," I answered.

"You what?!" she yelled back, more angrily than I could ever have imagined.

"The banana didn't work," I started to explain. "I needed something a little more solid that I could shove in there and -- ow!"

Jan punched me in the arm. "You stupid jerk! You blew up my lucky potato!"

"You wanna go back for it?" Hudson suggested.

"No, I don't wanna go back for it," she sniffed at him. "I want my lucky potato."

"Well it was lucky for us," I answered. "We never would have been able to blow up Death City and stop the evil Garth Vaders without it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Jan conceded.

"Hey, to make it up to you, I'll take you out to dinner at Big Roy's Space Station Diner," I said. "I love their special."

"Oh yeah?" she perked up a bit. "What's their special?"

"Mashed potatoes," I grinned.

"Why you...." Jan snarled, then laughed, then her image froze.

Hudson began to laugh then his image froze.

I grinned at Hudson, then began to laugh myself, then my image froze.

Cue group shot of us laughing. Freeze. Cue wangy guitar. Cue end credits.

I had the space suit on and I was ready

Ready for the space walk. I made my way to the open bay doors.

"Wait," Jan said. She rushed into her ship and came back out with something in her hand.

"What is it?" I asked.

"For luck," she answered and handed me a potato.

"A potato?"

"What are you Irish or something?" Hudson asked.

Jan looked at him like she was about to smack him good. She took a breath and answered.

"Yes," she said. "The last name's O'Mega."

"You know there are probably better good luck charms out there," I said. "Four leaf clover, a horseshoe, a lucky rancor's foot."

"Those lucky rancor's feet aren't so lucky for the rancor," Jan smirked.

With the lucky potato stashed in a compartment on the suit, I pushed my way through the difuseable force field of the open door and floated away from the station's artificial gravity.

I was following the map that I had dialed up on my Wristcomm, heading towards the exaust vent when I started thinking of one of my favorite songs -- the Birthday Dirge.

(To the tune of the Volga Boatmen)

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)
Women crying in despair, children dying everywhere

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)
Now another year has past, we sure hope it is your last.

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)
May the cities in your wake, burn like candles on a cake.

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)
Burn the castle storm the keep, kill the women SAVE THE SHEEP!

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)
Your servants steal, your wife's untrue, your children plot to murder you

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)
On the ground is blood and eggs, Easter Bunny broke his legs

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)
Birthdays come but once a year, marking time as Death draws near.

Happy Birthday! (huh!) Happy Birthday! (huh!)

There were more verses, but I snapped out of it when I saw enemy craft approaching.



I was close to the exhaust vent, but the ships were swarming all around. They were so fast, that they were easily able to avoid my fire.

I was trapped. Trapped like a rat -- in space!

To be continued...

Fighting our way out of Death City

Hudson, Jan the Intergalactic Aviator and I made our way to the turbolift and piled into it when the doors opened. Fortunately, it appeared that most of the troops on the station were distracted by the epic clash between the two Garth Vaders.

I punched the button for Level 7 and the lift started moving.

"Level 7?" Jan asked. "We need to go to the docking bay level, not 7."

"Remember," I replied. "I have a plan. We're going to blow this station up, but we have to stop here first."

"Oh man," Hudson started sweating. "Level 7."

The lift clanged to a halt at 7 and we stepped out. I walked down the hall to the station's vendateria and walked up to the counter.

"Your plan involves lunch?" Jan stood next to me."

"I could use a Snicker bar," Hudson added.

"I'm not getting lunch, people," I looked at the cook standing behind the counter. "I want one banana please."

The cook mumbled something under his breath and went to go get a banana.

"A banana?" Jan's brows furled. "What are you, some kind of Monkeyboy or something?"

"Don't say that!" I shook my index finger at her. "Don't you dare say that!"

"That'll be .78 space credits," the cook growled. "Would you like a bag?" he added sarcastically.

"No thank you." I took the banana and headed back to the turbolift.

"How are you going to blow up the station with a banana?" Hudson asked while trotting to keep up with me.

We rode the lift down to the docking bay level and I strode out towards Jan's ship. My two companions strode to match my step.

"Well?" Jan asked.

"I'm going out there," I said and pointed out the docking bay doors. "I'm going to plug that exhaust port with this." I held up the banana.

"You're crazy," Jan laughed. "You won't last five minutes out there with those fighters swarming around."

"That's why I need you and Hudson to keep them off my tail."

I grabbed a space suit and started putting it on. Jan and Hudson looked at each other and reluctantly helped me.

We made our way back towards Jan's ship

Along the way, we found Hudson.

"Tractor beam off?" I asked Hudson.

"Sure is," he replied. "I took out some troops along the way, too."

"Really?"

"Yup," he nodded. "Totally quiet and sneaky-like. I am like Snake Eyes, a stone cold totally quiet killer. They never saw me coming."

"So you're silent but violent?" I asked.

"You got it," he grinned, full of pride.

I stopped.

"Wait a minute, what's today's date?"

"You mean on Earth, or the Queen's Galactic Calendar?" asked Jan.

"On Earth," I replied. I dialed up the calendar on my Wristcomm. "Hey, it's May 19th!"

"So?" shrugged Hudson.

"Tomorrow is my one year blogoversary!" I answered, allowing for more excitement than my current situation should allow.

"Oh, well, happy blogoversary," said Hudson.

"Yes, happy blogoversary," smiled Jan. Then she looked down. "I don't have a blog."

"Maybe some day you will," I answered. "Hey, why don't we take a look at my first post."

Jan and Hudson nodded in agreement and I called up my blog on my Wristcomm, then went to the first entry:

I fought Lord EyeBorg today (I believe "Lord" is an honorarium, he does not actually lord over anything). Though he is easily 30 years my senior and no match for my strength, his cybertetic claw and optic laser blast make him a tough opponent to be sure. After battling back and forth for over an hour, I finally got a solid punch in. The force of my strike sent him sprawling and he was stunned long enough for me to pluck his laser-firing eyepiece from it's socket.



Holding the weapon aloft, I yelled to the crowd "The 'eyes' have it!" The audience was beside itself, roaring and cheering my victory.

Victory, thy taste is sweet.

"That was... nice," Jan said.

"I liked that action hero line," Hudson smiled. "The eyes have it! The eyes have it! The eyes have it!"

"Yeah, well, sometimes I need work on those lines." I looked out past the fourth wall. "I want to thank everyone who's visited me here for the past year. You know who you are, go on stand up and give yourselves a big hand. Great. Now, just the ladies. Now just the men. Now just the men pretending to be ladies. Ha, I got you! Now you two in the back! Go on, stand up and clap."

Thank you.

OK so who's this other Garth Vader?

I looked at the dark figure in the doorway and my jaw dropped.

Jan the Intergalactic Aviator looked at the dark figure in the doorway and her jaw dropped.

Dr. Chronobob looked at the dark figure in the doorway and his jaw dropped.

Garth Vader looked at the dark figure in the doorway and his jaw dropped.

"You are not the real Garth Vader," rumbled the dark figure in the doorway. "I am."

The dark figure stepped forward, flanked by two of his troops.



The evil crooner glared at us, then opened his mouth and let loose a horrible howl:

"'Cause I've got friends in low places,
"Where the whiskey drowns
And the beer chases my blues away
And I'll be okay
I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to the oasis
Oh, I've got friends in low places."

Jan, Chronobob, and I clutched our ears and stumbled back from the sonic assault. Garth Vader (the one with the glasses and blond hair) stood fast.

"You think you can destroy me?" he roared. "I am not so easily defeated, asphinctersayswhat."

"What?" came Garth Vader's (the one in the cowboy hat) reply.

"Exactly!" Garth Vader (the first one) sneered with a goofy, but evil grin. He then pulled out a pair of drumsticks and started playing the extended drum solo from Inna Gadda Davida on the wreckage of the GNAT device. The sonic vibrations from the beats and fills caused the other Garth Vader to take a step back and hold up his arm in an attempt to deflect the onslaught.

"Wait," said Garth Vader (the second one). "There's something I must say."

"What is it?" asked the metalhead version of Garth Vader.

"I just wanted to say that I quit the business," he announced. "I feel that my talents and efforts are not appreciated, therefore I feel it is my time to retire from the evil conquering the galaxy business."

"Uh, OK," the other Garth Vader looked around slightly confused. "Good."

"Oh and one more thing," the Stetson-clad Garth Vader continued. "I would like to announce my return to the evil conquering the galaxy business."

"Huh?" asked the first Garth Vader. Jan and I looked at each other and shrugged.

"Oh, I have another announcement to make," Garth Vader (the country music superstar version) announced. "I would like to say that I am now retiring because I feel that my talents are not appreciated. Now I would like to announce that I am un-retiring. Now I wish to retire to spend time with my family. Now I am un-retiring again. Hey look! Now I'm Chris Gaines! Now I'm Garth Vader again. Now I wish to retire to spend time with my family. Ooops, I just got divorced, guess I'll un-retire again. Well, it's been a long road, but now I have to say that I now wish to retire. Nope, I'm back."

"Wait, are you retired or not?" asked Garth Vader (the other one). "I'm so confused!"

The Garth Vader in the cowboy hat ignited his lightsaber and stepped forward. "Don't make me destroy you. We could rule this galaxy together as villain and sidekick!"

"OK, I guess I'll join up with you. NOT!" The Garth Vader with the glasses ignited his own lightsaber.

The two charged each other, blades flashing and crashing against each other. Jan and I slipped out of the room and headed down the corridor.

"How long do you think that will last?" Jan asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "But it was pretty lame."

"Yeah," she replied. "Now what?"

"Let's get Hudson and get back to your ship," I replied. "I have a plan."

What's Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator's plan? Stay tuned to find out!

Hudson: Hudson Helps Out Horrendously

I was making my way to the tractor beam controls. I knew that I had to stay frosty. The bad guys were everywhere, only too bad for them 'cuz if they got near the H-Man it would be game over for them.

I knew that I was close, was it left, left, right or right, left, left? I looked at the notes that I scratched on my palm, only they got rubbed off as I was sneaking my way through the corridors.

I found a sign that pointed my way to the station and made my way there. There were only two guards and I could have taken them out easily, but I wanted to keep things sneaky. If only I could force them into looking the other way. Too bad nothing like that exists in this galaxy.

"Man, standing around here waiting for nothing to happen is boring," complained the first trooper.

"Have you seen that Jan the Intergalactic Aviator?" asked the other.

"Yeah, that's a sweet model," answered the first. "I wouldn't mind taking her out for a test drive, if you know what I mean. Heh heh."

I pulled a coupler from a panel. I bet if I throw this into the opposite corridor, they'll run to investigate the noise. I took careful aim. Steady. Steady... I hurled the coupler!

It bounced off the first trooper's helmet and he knocked heads with the second. Both fell off the catwalk into the bottomless pit of the space station.

Success.

Now to turn off the tractor beam. I wonder how Jon and Jan are doing.

Dr. Chronobob prepared to turn the dial

Chuckling to himself, he knew that his evil lord would enjoy destroying Jon, especially with the gladiator's brainwaves deluded into making him believe and behave like a scared little boy.

Suddenly, the door to the lab exploded! Through the smoke I jumped, followed by Jan the Intergalactic Aviator.

"Whu -- What?" Chronobob stammered.

"Please," I answered. "Of course we knew that we were being monitored. Whatever's affecting me had to be in here. This is the machine, I assume?"

"Oh it is alright," the scientist composed himself and threw the switch. "But you're too late. My dark master will destroy you here instead! Ha ha!"

"What?" I gasped. "Nooooooooo! I-- I... Pwease nice mans, don't let him huwt me. Pwease nice Mr. Mans?"

Dr. Chronobob laughed maniacally.

"There is something we have to tell you," Jan stepped forward.

"Oh bother! What is it?"

"Your machine isn't working so well anymore!" I laughed.

In a hail of gunfire, the Galvanizing Neural Age Transducer erupted into sparks and flames.

"All of your resources, squandered," I shook my head. "Such a waste."

"I know!" Chronobob squealed. "But that's what he wanted!"

"Why not use your machine for good?" Jan asked. "Maybe develop a cure for Alzheimer’s or cancer."

"What? No no, I couldn't."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I'm an evil scientist, human," he spat. "My inventions are made to hurt people, not help them!"

"Well, where you're going, you won't be able to hurt people for a long, long time," Jan rested the butt of her rifle on her hip.

"No not space jail!" he blurbed.

"I am afraid that my favorite scientist won't be leaving any time soon," said a voice from the doorway. I looked and saw him, the dark armor of an evil lord, the long cape, the shock of unruly blond hair circling the face twisted with evil. My nemesis was none other than


"Garth Vader!" Jan and I called out together.

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" the master of darkness hissed mechanically.

"But why me?" I asked. "I've never met you before."

"Because you're good, and good is lame," Garth Vader hissed maniacally. "You're lame. You're a lameaholic, you go to bars and order lame and Cokes. If you were an ice cream, you'd be pralines and lame."

"Oh come on!" I sighed. "I'm not lame. I'm a hero to the everyman, and that will always be cool. You, on the other hand, are some sort of refugee from a Saturday Night Live skit that has long since passed it's expiration date. You, sir, are the lame one."

"No way, man," Garth Vader shook his head. "Some thing's just don't go out of style. It's like Def Leppard, man."

"OK," I replied. "Whatever."

"And I see you brought Jan with you," Garth leered. "All I have to say is schwwwwwing! You're a hottie! If you were a robot sent from the future to kill me, you'd be called the Foxinator! You're so incredible, I think I'm gonna hurl."

"Ew," Jan stepped back.

"Look this is all fun meeting you and everything, but I've got to get going," I said. "We destroyed your toy, so we'll just pick up Hudson and be on our way."

"I don't think so," Garth answered. "I'm still going to have to kill you."

"Not so fast!" hissed another mechanical voice from the door. "This man is not the real Garth Vader."

We all looked at the door and gasped.

To be continued. Duh.

Death City Death Trap

We were walking through the corridors looking for the turbolift when something caught my eye.

"What's this?" I step closer to it.

"It looks like a command terminal to this station," Jan the Intergalactic Aviator said.

"What's this sign?" Private Hudson pulled the taped-up sign and took a look. "Death City Command Station 4. Hey, if we can hack into this, we can get the layout of the station!"

"What's this?" I looked at another sign.

"Wet paint," Jan read. "Jeez, the paint isn't even dry on this place yet and this guy's trying to take us down."

"Well, we'll just have to take him down first." I replied with grim determination.

"I'm in!" Hudson announced. "Here's the layout of the station."

"There's the command center on the top level," I pointed. "No doubt we'll find our mysterious enemy there."

"Look there," Jan pointed to another spot on the virtual map. "Top Secret GNAT Laboratory on level 5. What do you suppose that is?"

"Gnats? yuck," declared Hudson. "I'll stay away from there, thank you."

"I don't know," I answered. "I'm still convinced that we need to go to the command center."

"Here's the Tractor Beam Console," Hudson pointed. "I'll go shut that down. You guys can go hit the command center."

"Isn't it foolish to split up?" Jan asked.

"Who's more foolish?" Hudson replied. "The fool, or the fool who fools the fool?"

"Mmmm..... yeah," I reply. "OK, Hudson, you want to take out the tractor beam? Go for it, Jan and I will head to the top."

"What's this?" Jan pointed to another point on the screen. "It looks like an exhaust shaft. I bet that if we could destroy that, it will cause a chain reaction that will blow up the whole station!"

"I don't know how we're going to get to that, though," I squinted at it. "It's so small, no ship could fit into that trench."

"Well, if we can get it, I'll bet that's the Death City's Achilles heel," shrugged Jan. "If we need to, and if we can get to it, we should."

As the three of us hashed out our plan of action, Dr. Chronobob watched over us from his lab via his telemonitor.

"They are going to the command station," A metallic voice proclaimed quite pleased.

"Yes, oh Dark Lord," Chronobob replied. "Except for the Marine. He's heading for the tractor beam controls. Are you going to go kill him there?"

"No, I think I shall let him go. NOT!" The cloaked figure snorted. "I will first destroy the two who are walking into my trap, then kill that last one at my leisure. Without Jon, Hudson will literally be a sitting duck!"

"Yes, My Lord," Chronobob affirmed. The sinister scientist dared not correct the dark lord's misuse of the word literally. And once again, his evil master's plans seemed so elaborate and overdone. Nonetheless, the evil scientist had a job to do, and that job he did gleefully. He reached over to the Galvanizing Neural Age Transducer and turned the dial towards the "little boy" setting.

Finally, we're ready to spring into action

It feels like we've been cramped in here for days, but now we're ready to go.

The tractor beam drew the Pegasus Elite into the middle of the station's docking bay. The high-speed craft settled onto it's landing struts onto the deck and it's engines powered down. After a moment, the front landing ramp lowered and clanged into position.

Everything was quiet, but then several steel spheres rolled down the ramp and spun off in all directions. Simultaneously, the spheres exploded with bright, stunning flashes.

Jan, Hudson and I popped up through the roof hatch of the ship with guns blazing. Jan had her blaster rifle, I was firing my two pistols because firing two pistols always looks cool, and Hudson had his M41A Pulse Rifle, naturally.

We fired at computer terminals, we fired at lights, we fired at cameras, barrels, tool cases, panel, doors. We did not fire at any henchmen. Interestingly, we were the only three in the hangar.

"Where are the hordes of enemy troops?" Jan wondered aloud.

"This place is empty," I looked around. "Why aren't they pouring through the doors trying to get us?"

"Oh man," Hudson looked around. "Do you think they're in the walls?"

"It's just quiet," I answered.

"Too quiet," Jan added.

We walked over to a functioning computer station and looked at the screen. "Maybe we could hack in and get the lowdown on this station," I said. "Here's the terminal, if only we had a droid or something that could hack in."

"R2! R2!" Hudson called out.

"Why are you saying that?" Jan looked at him.

"The R and 2 buttons are damaged on this keyboard," he answered. "It may be tough to work at this station."

"Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly!" A voice boomed through an intercom.

"We're being watched," Hudson looked around.

"No kidding," Jan answered with a touch of sarcasm.

"Who are you?" I called out. I felt another attack hitting my brain. "Ya dang varmint!"

"Does whatever's affecting you have a 'grizzled prospector' setting or something?" Jan said while looking at me.

"Quiet, missy," I shook my fist at her in impotent rage.

"Looks like the cat has some mice caught in his trap," the voice on the PA cooly echoed through the bay.

"Why would a cat have a trap?" Hudson asked.

"I'm fixin' to give that fella whatfer!" I shook my fist in more impotent rage.

We looked at the open blast door that led to the corridors of the station. We had a choice, left or right.

"Well, we can't just stand around here," said Jan. "Let's find get this guy so we can get out of here."

"OK, let's go left," Hudson started that way.

"How do you know that's the right way?" Jan asked.

"Look, I've been on stations just like this," he answered. "When you get out of the docking bay, you always go left, left, right to get to the turbolifts."

"No no," Jan shook her head. "I've been inside this exact same model before. We have to go right, left, left to get to the lifts."

"Left, left, right," Hudson asserted.

"Right, left, left," Jan growled back.

"I'll solve this, ya dang whippersnappers!" And with that, I spit heavily on to my palm. I then smacked the palm with my fist and the spittle flew off to the right. "We go right."

Jan and Hudson shrugged in agreement and we started off down the corridor.

"Ha ha ha," laughed the deep voice over the speakers. "Come to me, my prey. I am the lion that will hunt you in this trap."

"You know, it's the female lions who hunt." Jan called out.

"Alright, fine!" the voice answered. "I am the tiger that will hunt you in his tiger trap!"

Sector 7G

"Were entering Sector 7G, one of the most perilous patches of space in this galaxy," Jan the Intergalactic Aviator announced over the intercom.

As Hudson and I raced to the cockpit, I felt the last mental attack subside. We looked around the sector, though, but didn't see anything.

"This is supposed to be the spot," Jan said while looking at her instruments.

"Maybe they left," suggested Hudson.

"I don't know," I shook my head.

Suddenly, cannon fire raked our shields and a small ship passed over us.

"That must be them!" cried Hudson.

"That's a short-range fighter," Jan said. "What's he doing way out here?"

As we chased the craft, a large object appeared before us.

"What's that?" I asked. "A moon?"

"That's no moon," Jan shook her head. "That's a--"

"Is it a meteor?" asked Hudson.

"No, it's a--"

"A comet?" Hudson asked.

"No, it can't be a comet. It must be a--"

"Is it space debris?" Hudson inquired.

"No, it's not that, either. It has to be--"

"Is it a meteor?" Hudson inquired.

"No, it can't be that. It has to be a--"

"Is it a newly formed planet that isn't on any of the charts?" Hudson needled.

"No, you stupid idiot!" Jan yelled. "It's not any of those! It's a space station! A freakin space station! Can't you tell? It's all metal and has sensor pods and antenna and weapons sticking out all over it! What the heck is your problem, anyway?"

"Well, I was just sayin,'" Hudson answered sheepishly.

"Great, now we're caught in it's tractor beam," Jan growled. "We're stuck. Guess we'll see who's in there after all."

"We'll be ready," I said with grim determination.

"Wait," Jan said. "I have a plan."

Flight aboard the Pegasus Elite

Jan the Intergalactic Aviator was flying her ship towards Sector 7G, one of the most dangerous systems in the known galaxy. Hudson and I were in a compartment located rearwards of the cockpit. I sat there in the galley area feeling another assault on my mind.

"Just relax and enjoy the ride, gentlemen," Jan called over the intercom. "We're about 2 hours away from Sector 7G."

"Do you mean Sector 7G, one of the most hazardous and deadly systems in the galaxy?" Hudson asked.

"Pffft, idiot," I mumbled under my breath.

"That's right, Hudson," Jan called back. "Why don't you watch Big Trouble in Little China while you wait?"

"You mean Big Trouble in Little China, the movie where they often say how dangerous it is to go into Little China?" the idiot exclaimed excitedly.

"That's the one," she replied.

I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes.

"Did you say something, Jon?" Hudson's head snapped in my direction.

"Yeah," I answered. "I said 'You suck.'"

"Oh really?" Hudson answered. "I know your type, Jon. You think you're all cool and that you know everything. Well you've got a lot to learn, pal, and I'm not your friend and I'm not gonna be your buddy--"

"Thank God for that," I scoffed. Something must have really set him off, 'cuz he stalked right up close to me.

"Just give me an excuse," he growled at me.

"God, get off my case. Jeeez," I leaned away from him. "Quit hasslin' me, man."

Hudson stepped away and started up the movie.

______________________________________

Meanwhile, Dr. Chronobob was looking at the readouts when the heavy doors lifted and an armored figure stalked in.

"The Intergalactic Gladiator is on his way," the evil lord rasped between mechanical breathing.

"Yes m'Lord," Dr. Chronobob quickly rose from his seat and bowed. "And when he gets here, he will be quite surprised by this fully armed and operational battlestation!"

"Indeed," the mechanical menace answered. "Dr. Chronobob, I've been thinking."

"Yes, Lord?"

"I believe that this technological terror," he gestured to include the entire station. "This sinister superweapon deserves a name befitting of it's power."

"Yes, my Lord?"

"We shall name this station the (dramatic pause) Death Star."

"Uh, sir," Dr. Chronobob dared to speak. "Death Star is already taken."

"Really?"

"Yes, Lord," Chronobob replied. "Twice, in fact. That name is copywritten, we'd hate to face a lawsuit."

A deep rumbling emanated from within the Dark Lord. "Damnable lawyers," he growled. "Truly they are the most evil force in the galaxy. Very well, we shall call it Dark City."

"I wouldn't advise that either, sir," Dr. Chronobob answered. "That was the name of a movie."

"Ah yes, wasn't that the one with that fetching Jennifer Connelly standing at the end of a pier?"

"Indeed, sire," Chronobob affirmed. "One of them, at least."

"Hmm indeed," the dark cyborg thought aloud. "How about dark Star?"

"Another movie, Lord."

"Is that the one with the alien that is a beach ball? Rather lame."

"Yes sir," Chronobob answered. "But to be fair, it was a school project and had a very low budget."

Another rumble came from within the Dark Lord. "Very well, since this superweapon was designed by Dr. Al'n Parsonss, we shall name it after him."

"I don't believe that will work either, Lord," Chronobob answered quite logically. "That bit with the Allen Parsons Project was done in one of the Austin Powers movies."

"With Mike Meyers?" his temper flared. "He thinks he's so funny with his wacky voices and his goofy wigs. After destroying the Gladiator, maybe I'll destroy him next. Ah very well, then, how about Death City?"

"Splendid, Sire."

"Indeed. Please continue with the experiments."