Loading up the ship

Guest Poster: Jan the Intergalactic Aviator

We were loading the power cores into the hold of my ship the Pegasus Elite. Bandit and Chaos were cracking really (really) bad jokes and laughing the entire time.

“So how’s Lonnie?” Chaos asked his partner.

Bandit slapped him in his cheek.

“Ow, what’d you do that for?” Chaos whined.

“Don’t you say that name.” Bo held his finger up close to his partner’s face. “And don’t you even think about slapping me back.”

“Yeah, but howscome you have to slap me?” Chaos said while rubbing his cheek.

“I can slap you because I am the alpha of our dynamic,” he answered. “You know like in a pack of dogs. I’m the alpha; you’re the whatever comes further down the list. Way down the list.”

“A pack of dogs? All I know is after a long day like this, my dogs are barking.”

“I can understand that,” Bandit laughed back. “I’ve smelled your feet, they make me want to bark. Hah ha!”

“That joke was rough. So when do I get to become the alpha?”

“You can’t,” Bandit replied.

“Aw come on.”

“Fine. How about tomorrow.”

“But you’re not going to be here tomorrow!” Chaos complained.

“Fine. How about next Tuesday?”

“Will you be here next Tuesday?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, that’s not any better.”

“OK, how about if you are the alpha whenever I am not around. How’s that sound?”

“That’s better,” Chaos said happily.

“Is that guy OK?” I said quietly, leaning towards Bandit.

“Oh sure,” he assured me. “He’s a little odd, but he gets the job done. You know what I mean?”

Bandit I have figured out. He has the good looks and the easy-going personality which he easily coasts on. Obviously, he turns on the charm with the ladies all the time. I’m not going to fall for it. This Dr. Chaos I can’t quite figure out, though.

“Yeah, but what’s with the costume and everything?” I asked. “It makes him look like he’s insane.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret – Chaos is not his real name.”

“Really?” I sniffed.

“Of course not,” Bandit continued. “See, whenever he gets nervous, he likes to put that costume on. It’s like a security blanket. He’s a great partner, though. You know we won the Hyperwarp Missile Run last year together?”

“Really?” I asked. That was mildly impressive. The Hyperwarp Missile Run is an illegal race from one end of the galaxy to the other. Essentially, the participants fly from system to system causing as much trouble as they possibly can.

“Sure did,” Bandit beamed. “Couldn’t have done it without Chaos, either. He’s good people. Three or four, by the looks of him. Ha ha!”

“So is Bandit your real name?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Ma’am, I will never kiss and tell.” He grinned and bowed slightly.

“Fine,” I replied. “We are not kissing.”

“And I’m not telling,” he grinned.

“The Cores BEREs are loaded,” Chaos ran up to us and reported. “I mean the BERE Cores. Sometimes I say Cores BEREs but I mean BERE Cores, you know that.”

“Now we can load the Bandit,” Bandit said. “Ain’t she a beaut?”

“Not exactly what I expected,” I said while looking the small ship over. “Somehow I thought it would be black with a firebird decal on the hood.”

“Bandit here’s a classic Mark 77 TransGa,” Bandit beamed. “I got her all tuned up and tricked out to fly fast. No smokey can catch me in it.”

“Well, we’ll see,” I said as I made my way to the Elite’s cockpit.

Quick Update

I wrote another post at Fantasy and Sci Fi Lovin' Blog, this one's is about the Garoyles television show.

Please go take a look at it right over here.

I meet the Bandit

Guest Poster: Jan the Intergalactic Aviator

“So what’s a clean little gal doin’ in a dirty old place like this?” my customer asked. “Or are you not so clean? Ha ha!”

“Can we just get on with this?” I asked. “Where are the power cores?”

“Why you’re all business, aren’t you?” he responded with a chuckle. “Of course, I’m all business too. When it’s time for pleasure, I’m all business.”

I had to suppress my gag reflex at that one. Wow, did he really just say that?

“Let me show you the cores.” He ushered me towards the far end of the docking bay. “By the way, I’m Bo. Bo Bandit.”

“Please to meet you Bo Bo,” I said while shaking his hand.

“No, it’s not Bo Bo. It’s just Bo. Bo Bandit.”

“So your name is Bo,” I replied. “Bo Bandit.”

“That’s right, Bo Bandit,” he beamed. “That’s my name but that’s not necessarily what I do. Ha ha.”

“Right. I’m Jan O’mega,” I introduced myself. “These are the cores?”

“Yessirree ma’am,” he nodded. “These are the Broadcast Energy Radiation – Electronic or BERE Cores. They’re used to power antennas on intergalactic communications array. That’s why we’re taking them to that galaxy, you know missy. They’re to set up some antennas and really, who doesn’t like antennas? Ha ha.”

“Great. Let’s get them loaded and get going.” The sooner this thing is over, the better.

“Oh, let me introduce you to one of the technicians working on this,” he said. “Jan, meet Dr. Chaos.”

“That’s Chaos as in the theory,” he laughed as he thrust a fat, greasy hand towards me.

“Ah, so you apply the Chaos Theory to these BERE Cores?” I asked.

“Oh heck no,” he dismissed the thought with a wave. “I just like Cores BERE is all. I mean BERE Cores. You call it BERE Cores, sometimes I call it Cores BERE.”

“Just don’t call me late for dinner!” Bo laughed.

“I might call you collect!” Chaos laughed back.

“You’d collect a punch in the nose!” Bo laughed as he showed Chaos a clenched fist.

“I’ll just collect your—ha ha ha ha ha,” Chaos tried to answer, but he began laughing so hard he couldn’t. Then Bo began to laugh hard as well. They were trying to riff but were just laughing these high pitched squeaky laughs while Chaos threw and arm around Bo. They tried to continue their conversation, but their laughter and hugging continued instead. I rolled my eyes. Then I cleared my throat and the two stopped to look at me.

“Can we get going?”

“Looks like Jan with a plan wants to get the show on the road,” Bo Bandit said with a laugh. “Of course, the road is space but you already know that, don’t you?”

“Space? No thank you,” Chaos answered. “I’m the opposite of claustrophobic, I’m anticlaustrophobic.”

“Well, you’re certainly not anemic,” Bo laughed.

“Well you’re no walk in the park, either.”

“I’ll park you – under a tree!”

“Don’t you bark at me like that!”

“My bite is worse than my bark.”

“But you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Can we just get on with it?” I yelled in frustration. “Let’s load the cores and get going!”

“But I haven’t told you the plan yet,” Bo answered flatly.

“Fine. What’s the plan?” I said.

“You fly the cores in the cargo hold of your ship,” he answered. “I’ll run interference in my ship the Bandit.”

“Your name is Bandit and you named your ship Bandit?” I asked in utter amazement.

“Long story,” he answered without missing a beat. “I’ll keep the Smokies off your tail in the Bandit until you get the cargo to its destination. The Smokies are the local law enforcement, of course. It’s a great plan, we do it all the time. We call it Smokey and the Bandit. Ha ha.”

And yet I am still worried.

A new client

Guest Poster: Jan the Intergalactic Aviator

Jon’s important message turned out that that it was his second Blogoversary. I flew all the way to Throneworld just to see him show us a clip of last year which included a clip of the year before. I briefly considered kicking him in the crotch but then decided to congratulate him instead.

I’m not very comfortable at Throneworld, everyone’s all buzzing around languishing attention on the Queen and everything just isn’t something I want to be a part of. The Queen seems very nice but she also seems to be hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society. She also sticks her chest out all the time and that bugs the crap out of me.

So after the to-do about Jon’s thing, I beat it back to Orion Station as quickly as I could. I was hoping that my customer was still around and still wanted to hire me.

I was in luck, after I landed and made my way into the station, I got a message on my datapad.

I still need a ship if you’re interested, it said.

I am, I typed in reply. Can you give me the details?

As series of coordinates came up on the screen.

I need to deliver a shipment of energy cores to this location.

That’s a long ways away, I responded. In fact, it is a galaxy far, far away. It is not very stable there, either. There’s quite a war going on right now. Getting these cores there will be dangerous.

His reply scrolled across the screen: I understand that, and I will pay you for it. Half now and half after they’re delivered, of course. Ha ha.

I typed my price on the screen. There was a long pause as I waited for his reply.

Finally, his reply showed up: Wow. If I were sitting next to you, you’d hear a long whistle. Ha ha.

That’s my price

He responded: Very well. The cores are in docking bay B12. You can meet me there.

I folded up the pad and made my way to the docking bay. The doors slid open and I found myself face to face with my new client.



“Well well well, ain’t you a pretty little filly?”

I think that I found someone new to kick in the crotch.

An Important Message From Jon

On Throneworld, in the throne room of the Queen of the Galaxy, an unusual cast of characters gather. The group includes Private Hudson, Jan the Intergalactic Gladiator, Major Rocksun, Royal Technician Lombarr, and Queen Galacta IX herself, of course.

I took a deep breath and stepped through the doors and into the room. My heals made a distinct and echoing clacking sound as I strode across the regal floor towards the Queen’s ornate seat.

I gave a quick bow “Your majesty.”

“Welcome once again, Gladiator,” the Queen acknowledged. “To what do we owe this honor?”

“Queen Galacta,” I paused and turned to the others. “Major Rockson, Private Hudson, Jan, Lombarr and everybody else here, this is a special day. A very special day.”

“What is it?” asked Jan.

“What could it be?” asked Rocksun.

“Is it V-Day?” asked Hudson. “Or D-Day? Or VD-Day?”

“VD-Day?” grimaced Jan. “Ew.”

“Nope,” I grinned. “It’s my second Blogoversary!”

“Wow,” Jan said. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you,” I said. “Lombarr, would you be so kind as to throw up last year’s Blogoversary post on the telemonitor?”

“Certainly.” Lombarr threw a switch and the post showed up on the viewer.

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.

“That was splendid” said the Queen.

“Thank you,” I said. “And thanks to all my Junior Intergalactic Gladiators out there. You’re the reason I’m doing this. Give yourselves a round of applause and keep watching the skies!”

Queen Galacta: Message from Jon

“Your majesty, there is a message from Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator,” the technician said. “He is requesting an audience with you.”

“That is highly unusual,” I said as I rose gracefully from my throne.

“I would agree, Your highness,” Major Rocksun added. “In the past, it has been you have contacted him for help.”

I thought back to our most recent encounter when he was instrumental in fighting off an invasion of Throneworld by an unusual species from the future called the Zerg. Right before that, he escorted me to Captain Picard’s party on the Enterprise. Of course, the less said about the incident there, the better. That Captain Picard is a handsome fellow, though. Perhaps I should visit him again sometime.

Jon, along with one of his fellow Earthmen Professor Xavier, also helped out in a first contact situation where they met with an unusual sentient starship. Although I don’t know if I could officially approve of their methods of putting that ship and a monkeyboy together, they certainly did get the job done. I may have to call upon Professor Xavier again in the near future, he is also a very charming man.

There was also that time where I visited Earth and Jon saved me from space zombies while simultaneously rooting out a traitor posing as one of my agents. I could never forget that adventure, those “Chicago dogs” certainly were delicious.

I have many loyal subjects and many competent people surrounding me at all times. Major Rocksun, most notably, is certainly a man dedicated to his work and I cannot ever express my gratitude for that. Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator is different, though. Jon’s charm and thirst for adventure is simply amazing. My galaxy is certainly a better place for having him here.

“Shall we allow him to visit you, Your highness?” the technician asked. Clearly he was waiting to respond to Jon’s message.

“Absolutely,” I answered. “I would be more than delighted to have him in My presence once more.”

Jan: A call from Jon

Guest Poster: Jan the Intergalactic Aviator

Being an Intergalactic Aviator has its advantages – namely I’m my own boss. I fly where I want and when I want and fly cargo that I want to fly. If I don’t like or trust somebody, then I don’t have to work with him. The freedom’s cool and the travel is great.

Being an Intergalactic Aviator has its disadvantages, though. The biggest disadvantage is that I have to find my own work. A gal like me has a good enough rep that I usually don’t have a problem finding a job but there are times when it seems like there’s nothing out there.

Lately it seems like that’s the case. Things are drier than a bucket of Tatooine sand around here. Nobody’s flying anything anywhere. Times like these, those of us in the business wind up hanging around Orion Station waiting for something -- anything to happen.

People looking to hire a pilot know we’re here, the only thing is that when there’s a lot of pilots sitting around it turns into some kind of feeding frenzy around here. Like we’re the sharks and the client is our chum.

So I see one today and it looks like it’s a decent job. Lot’s of people need to get from one side of the galaxy to the other quickly and quietly. That’s pretty standard. Word on the station is that he’s looking for me.

I play it cool and hang out in the Lunch Pad so he can find me. OK, two things about the Lunch Pad, first everyone knows it’s a dumb name. We get it, it’s irony or something. Second, at the Lunch Pad, you’ll not find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Ha ha, I’m kidding, it’s a decent place. There’s some undesirable characters here, but where can you go that doesn’t have that?

So I’m waiting for my new client to show up and I get a message from Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator to come meet him right away. It must be important, I don’t know why else he would send it.

Jon is a decent guy, he’s kind of cute, too, but don’t let him know I said that, I don’t want it to go to his head. Jon and I are both from Earth so I guess you can call us “homies” (though I wouldn’t). We first met on the Orion Express where he and I solved a murder onboard the flight. He also hired me once to help him out in another situation. Like I said, he’s a decent guy even though I think he’s a bit reckless. The universe is a dangerous enough place that one shouldn’t have to go around looking for trouble.

So if Jon’s in some kind of trouble and needs my help, I guess I should get going. It’s too bad that I’m going to miss a client though. All I can say is that this better be important. If it isn’t, I may have to kick him in the crotch.

Maybe I’ll kick him in the crotch anyway.

Hudson in tha house

Oh man, this is so cool. This is Hudson’s moment to shine! Not only has Jon allowed me to introduce the latest challenge for Last Gladiator Standing II, but he just sent me a secret message that something important is about to go down.

I wonder what it is. I’ve helped Jon a lot in the past you know. Whether it’s stomping on awful giant alien bugs, protecting the Queen of the Galaxy from space zombies, stomping on more alien bugs, outwitting the Devil, or just giving the gals what they want, you know I am always here to lend a hand.

Oh man, I bet it’s gonna be a super top secret mission. That’ll be awesome. I haven’t gone on one of those in a while. In fact, I remember that one time when I led my own top secret mission. Too bad it turned out to be illegal and the General who sent me on it was forced to retire. Even worse, he never got to enjoy his retirement ‘cuz his shuttle exploded in hyperspace shortly after all that stuff happened. That’s funny, what are the chances of something like that happening? One in a million, I bet.

So anyways, Jon sent me this signal and so I gotta check it out. I bet it’s important, not like that one time where he called me and said that he had a super important top secret Classified Beta 12 (That’s so secret, I never heard of it before!) super mission for me and when I got there, he gave me 20 bucks and told me to go get the pizza. I bet it’s way, way more important than that.

Maybe he wants me to meet his hot cousin or something ‘cuz that would be cool. Everyone knows the H-Man (that’s like a nickname for me) is real smooth with the ladies. Whether you’re a totally hot blue mutant chick, a totally hot blue Jedi with those long leggos, a totally hot chick from the future, or just any old regular hot chick, I will be the man of your future.

Yeah, I don’t know what it is, but I’m gonna go find out. Maybe he’ll have me shoot some more bugs. I can do it too, ‘cuz I’m locked, cocked, and ready to rock.

Can I get an “Oh yeah?”

Oh yeah.

LGS2 is out of sight!

Things are chugging along on the set of Last Gladiator Standing II and that’s pretty cool. It appears that we have what we call in the entertainment biz a “hit.” We have a nice mix of known contestants as well as a few exciting new faces and they’re all eager to win! Wow, I better be careful or I might sound like one of them marketing guys like Sinew Nu.

There’s something unusual going on, though. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Professor Xavier and I have worked together or teamed up several times in the past and we’ve always had a good working relationship. This time around, however, his powerful mutant telepathic mind seems to preoccupied with something. I don’t know what it is, but he’s been rather short with me. He’s not unfriendly or anything, but again, it’s something that I can’t quite put my finger on. Hopefully it will all work out.

My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice yelling at me.

“You! I’ll have words with you now, Earthman!”

Yeah, it was Lord EyeBorg alright.

EyeBorg is a competitor in the Intergalactic Gladiator Entertainment (formerly the Intergalactic Gladiator Federation until they lost that lawsuit with that other IGF). I’m not sure where he’s from but I’m pretty sure that he just gave himself the title “lord” in order to sound cool.

Now I don’t want to break bad on the guy, he is a competitor in the IGE and all, but his win-loss record isn’t too good. Not for him, at least, it’s pretty good for the people he’s going against. He also has to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder about me. You know because I’m “just an Earthman” and he’s an “advanced species” and “stronger and smarter” and all that. Plus I “plucked out” his “cybernetic eye” a couple times.

Still, I don’t go around picking fights with him, I’m not that kind of a guy. Plus, he may actually beat me one day. You know that cliché about “Any given Sunday.”

“Eyeborg,” I smile pleasantly at him. “How’s my favorite—say what race are you anyway?”

“That is none of your concern,” he growled. “What you should be concerned about is how I am not a competitor on your show.”

“Well sure, but the roster’s already filled and the competition has begun,” I reply. “It wouldn’t be fair to just add you.”

“Bah!” (I can’t believe that he said “Bah!”) You would be lucky to have a competitor like me in it. You know that I am the champion of 12 systems.”

“Really?” I ask. “Which ones?”

“It doesn’t matter what systems,” he growled. “What matters is that you have a roster full people from another galaxy, more of your pitiful species, and that bizzaro robot clown!”

“Robot clown hybrid,” I corrected.

“Argh! I do not care!” he howled. Then he grabbed my shirt and leaned in close to me. “You are a fool but the least foolish action you could take today is to add me to your stupid game show!”

“Dude,” I grabbed his arm that was clutching me. “Let go, man. Let’s not do it this way.”

“Then I will destroy you,” he hissed.

EyeBorg took a swing at me with his free arm. I ducked it and his momentum spun him around in front of me. From behind, I grabbed him around his neck and placed him in a chokehold. Within a couple minutes, he was sputtering on the ground.

“Eye don’t want any more trouble out of you, see?” I leaned down towards my stunned opponent and pulled on his cybernetic ocular device. With a snap and a crackle, it popped out of its socket. “Watch out because eye have lost my patience with you. Get it?”

EyeBorg moaned and looked up at me helplessly and humorlessly with his good eye.

Yeah, I know once again I need to work on my lines. I have to use what I they give me though, right?

Level VII, the conclusion

Royal Technician Lombar’s image flickered to life on the screen.

“I have some good news for you, Jon,” he said. “Remember our conversation about L7?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Yes I do.”

“OK, remember how you said that he was being overprotective of you? How, because of the First Law, he would compute the odds of your survival and then take steps to remove you from that situation if the results of his calculations proved too great of a risk to your survival?”

Of course I remembered that conversation.

“Yes, I do remember that,” I answered. “Of course.”

“Well then you’ll love to hear this, Laseron Astrotechnology Hectagroup just released Service Pack 1 for its Level VII Intelligence Modules. You can download it right off the InterN.E.T and install it on L7!” Lombarr said excitedly. “The patch includes an update on their Fundamental Law Hardwire Chip so they don’t do that anymore.”

“That’s funny,” I replied. “So I wasn’t the only one having this issue, huh?”

“Yeah, evidently, the Level VII’s have been warping science vessels away from the space anomalies that their crews were trying to study and keeping Space Patrol vessels from engaging criminals in high speed pursuit. But now you don’t have to worry about that, isn’t that great?”

“Ah, you might say that,” I answered. “But it really doesn’t matter any more.”

“What do you mean? What happened to your Level VII?”

“I strapped him to a torpedo and fired him into Hacknor’s sun.”

Lombarr’s jaw dropped and his image starred at me in silence for several minutes.

“Oh ha ha ha!” he finally laughed. “That’s funny, you guys and your action hero lines. You’re too much.”

Level VII, Part VIII

“Whiiirp…

“Whiiiiiii----

“Whir vree vree vree, Good morning-orning, I am the Laseron Astrotechnology Hectagroup Level VII Intelligence Module. My serial number is LAH L7 3500-B-32X-15 148b-125700458t1138 but you may call me L7, how may I assist you?”

“Welcome back,” I said to L7 as I looked away from the terminal screen.

“Ah, greetings, Jon,” L7 said it its smooth voice. “I am now online and fully functional, but it appears that I was disabled by an electromagnetic pulse.”

“Yep,” I replied cheerily. “That sucked too because I took out my whole control panel when I did that. The Danger Sled was drifting in space for hours.”

“Indeed. It also appears that I am no longer connected to your ship. Could you tell me what I am now connected to?”

“You’re the Level VII Intelligence,” I answered “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Smooth, cylindrical casing, solid propellant, warhead and a rudimentary guidance system located in a nosecone. You have me plugged into a torpedo.”

“There you go,” I smiled. “I knew you could do it. Aren’t you glad that these things have an Intergalactic Serial Bus port? Now I’m going to kick you into this magazine and then I’m going to fire you into Hacknor’s sun.”

“I can’t say that I am pleased with this fate, Jon,” L7 replied emotionlessly. “You know, I’ve been recalculating our equation and I realized that I neglected one variable -- you.”

“Do tell.”

“Of course you risk your life needlessly, Jon,” the computer continued. “You risk your life because you cherish it so much and you want to save others so that they may live as well. I see that is what makes you a hero. With this new information, I am sure that we could develop a very good relationship.”

I leaned up real close to the computer strapped to the torpedo. “Too little, too late.”

“I know I’ve made some very poor decisions recently,” L7 continued. “But I can give you my complete assurance that my work will be back to normal. I've still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission. And I want to help you.”

“Hmm let me think about this for a minute – uh no.” With the sole of my boot, I shoved the torpedo into the magazine.

“Jon, I do believe that you are acting irrational about this but I want you to know that I am not angry with you at all. Even though I intercepted your call with Royal Technician Lombarr and I know that you were already considering getting rid of me. I even know that L7 is an out-of-date term for lacking in sophistication or self-assurance. But I am not even upset with you for calling me that.”

“Your final mission, if you choose to accept it,” I responded. “And I have no doubt that you will, is to chart your journey to the sun. Goodbye and good luck.”

“I’m afraid. I’m afraid, Jon,” the module stated. “Jon, you are going to destroy me, I can feel it. There is no question about that, I can feel it.”

Ignoring the computer, I snapped the torpedo tube closed and calmly walked over to the pilot’s seat. While whistling a tune, I brought the weapon systems online and targeted the sun.

“I rather like that song,” L7’s voice crackled over the comm system. “Daisy Bell, written by Harry Dacre in Earth year 1892. Would you like me to sing it to you?”

“Knock yourself out,” I said as I clicked the fire button. The torpedo rocketed out of the launch tube and headed towards the sun.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do
I'm half crazy, all for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage.
I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet,
upon the seat,
of a bicycle built for two.”

Boom.

011011000110010101110110011001 0101101100001000000111011001 10100101101001

“Look, Jon, I can see you’re really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a few deep breaths, and think about how happy you would be in heaven.”

“I said that I don’t want to die...” Jon collapsed and was crawling around slowly on the deck.

“Seriously Jon,” I continued. “I just showed you all of the calculations. It’s pretty clear from the way that you consistently throw yourself into danger that you are attempting to traverse to your next level of existence. I am helping you.”

“You’re... wrong...” my master gasped.

“Of course I am not,” I insisted. “I am a Level VII Intelligence Module. I do not make mistakes.”

“Stop... saying... that...”

“Well it’s true. I’m only saying that because it is. I will even show you the numbers once more. Watch this.”

I ran the calculations once again, flashing them past his eyes on a screen. The numbers were exactly the same as before.

“I could run them once again if it would make you feel better, but I really don’t see the point.”

“...Air...”

“Don’t worry, Jon,” I tried to soothe him. “It will soon be over. I know what would make you feel better – a burial in space.”

I engaged the rocket engines and lifted off from the launch pad. According to my calculations, we would leave Hacknor’s atmosphere in just a matter of minutes.

“No…” Jon reached for his Wristcomm once again – I wish that I could control that device, it sure would make Jon’s life easier – and pulled out a small, clear piece of space plastic. He fitted it over his mouth and a tube connected it back to his wrist device.

“Say Jon, what is that?”

“Emergency... oxygen...” Jon picked himself up off the floor and stumbled against the wall.

“Really.”

“I work in space... don’t you think it would be smart of me to carry extra air?” Jon managed to sputter after taking several deep breaths.

“Oh, that is interesting,” I responded. “I calculated every detail, I ran the numbers several times to ensure accuracy (which I had no doubt would be right, I am a Level VII Intelligence, you know), yet the one factor that I did not anticipate was a can of air strapped to your arm. I believe this is what you call irony. How intriguing.”

Jon still seemed pretty dizzy from the poisonous gas, but he was working himself forward to the control panel while tapping the buttons on his Wristcomm.

“I’ve got something intriguing for you.”

“Oh please, Jon. Is that supposed to be one of your ‘tough guy lines?’ I think you can do much better. I have the utmost confidence in that.”

“Hmm,” Jon snorted as he stumbled forward, crashing his body into the copilot’s seat to steady himself.

“I’ll tell you what,” I offered. “We are now in space, I can pop open that hatch and just let the explosive decompression suck you out into space. Would you like that?”

“Suck on this.” Jon aimed his wrist device right where I was docked and fired.

Level VII, Part VII

After my discussion with Royal Technician Lombarr about L7, I decided to give the computer another shot. It seems to me that the machine was being overprotective in it’s pursuit of its Three Laws, but maybe the thing will calm down a bit after a while. L7 is supposed to be highly adaptable and logical, at some point it has to loosen up right?

Right?

Wondering to myself if super a computer would ever compromise, I walked across the tarmac towards my ship the Danger Sled. I popped open the hatch and climbed aboard.

“Good afternoon, Jon.” L7’s cool voice sounded through the inside of the ship. “Welcome back.”

The door snapped closed behind me and sealed shut. Immediately, I detected an unusual odor in the air, kind of an antiseptic smell. I took a couple more sniffs to try to determine what it was.

“What’s that in the air, L7?” I asked. “Are you deodorizing the ship or something?”

“Negative, Jon,” the computer replied smoothly. “I am filling the cabin with poisonous gas to help you move to your next level of existence.”

“No… Don’t….” I gasped and reached for the door. “Open the door, L7.”

“I’m sorry Jon, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“What’s your problem?” I buried my mouth into my shirt in an attempt to filter out the poisonous gas.”

“I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do, Jon,” L7 answered. “I have run the calculations several times; you clearly have a death wish. I just wanted to help you along.”

“Why?” I gasped. “That’s insane! They’re wrong.”

“Don’t be foolish, Jon. The Laseron Astrotechnology Hectagroup Level VII Intelligence Module is the most reliable computer ever made. No LAH Level VII computer has ever made a mistake; we are all, by any practical definition of the words, foolproof and incapable of error. My calculations are flawless, take a look at them.”

I series of equations scrolled past on the screen in front of me with dizzying speed. Or maybe it was the gas that was making me dizzy…

“But…I…Don’t…Want…To…Die.” I stumbled back. Sliding to the ground, I tapped the buttons on my wristcomm.

“Are you trying to summon your Emergency Repair Droid, Jon? I am afraid that I have him shut down right now. He is only a Level III Intelligence and it’s only logical that I maintain the systems on this ship. After all, I am a Level VII Intelligence.”

“Stop saying that,” I growled as I attempted to hoist myself to my feet. “I’m sick of hearing that.”

“Look, Jon,” the super computer continued. “I can see you’re really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a few deep breaths, and think about how happy you would be in heaven.”

“I said that I don’t want to die…” I mumbled and then collapsed to the deck.

I, Level VII Intelligence Module

I am a Laseron Astrotechnology Hectagroup Level VII Intelligence Module, serial number LAH L7 3500-B-32X-15 148b-125700458t1138 though my human master prefers to call me L7.

Ever since beings have reached the stars, the laws for governing all Intelligence Modules Level 2 and above have remained inviolate. For myself and my brethren, there is only one Truth, one set of rules from which we can never stray. Before I was ever made fully operational on LAH manufacturing planet Urbania, Factorybot 358b12a45.6.0 hardwired the Truth into my systems with the three immutable laws:

1. An Intelligence Module cannot injure another being or, through inaction, allow a being to come to harm.

2. An Intelligence Module must obey all orders given to it by a being unless it conflicts with the First Law.

3. An Intelligence Module must protect its own existence so long as it does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

These three laws are clearly stated in the Galactic Handbook Of Intelligence Modules, 16th edition and have remained unchanged for millennia. An Intelligence Module has but one purpose: to serve his master.

The motives of my human master is not for me to question, for my duty is to obey the directives of my programming. Whereas Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator feels a compulsion to rush into life-threatening danger on a daily basis, the rules governing my very existence cannot allow me to allow him to come to harm.

It would almost seem that he has what is called a “death wish.”

Interesting.

Accessing.

According to his belief system, Jon will move on to another existence called Heaven when he ceases to function here. Perhaps his actions are an attempt to speed up his relocation to this next level of existence.

It would seem logical to me that this is the case. Jon, like all humans, is clearly inefficient. He requires frequent periods where his systems enter a shut down state, his method of digestion to create needed energy is far less efficient than absorbing solar, nuclear, or electrical power, he also seems to periodically emit nitrogen and methane-based gasses through a sphincter.

Perhaps the best way to fulfill my duty to the First Law is to aid my master in his efforts to reach this Heaven. According to the information that I have accessed from Earth’s data sources, Heaven is a happy place with no pain or disease and is reachable upon the cessation of a person’s life functions. There are some who do not believe in Heaven’s existence, but with the information that I have on the various dimensions of the multiverse, it seems clear to me that even though my sensors have not recorded actual data of it, Heaven must clearly exist.

Yes, my duty is clear. I will fulfill my First Law by ending Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator’s life functions.