SG: WCD #51 "Victory and Defeat"

Lawrence Brown basementarcade at gmail.com
Mon May 9 10:11:02 PDT 2011


[Nikon Ninja's Journal]
  Okay, if I am going to earn any money on this trip I better start
writing.  I promised old KKK back at the newspaper some "man on the
scene" reports and some exclusive interviews.  How was I to know I'd
have a front row seat to our mission's failure? Maybe it's too late
for me to write anything.  I wonder if will we be shipped off to some
desert mining prison colony, or will they space us, or will we be on
the Nintan's next buffet menu?  Rumors have been flying around the
ship like crazy in the last 15 minutes since Commander Tonk, sounding
more sober than I have ever heard her, announced that a full-dress
honor guard was to assemble in the main hangar bay to receive the
Nintan Delegation to discuss the terms of surrender.   I have to hurry
up and get cleaned up for the event.  I've been ordered to attend,
both since I'm a reporter and this is a historic moment, and well, I‘m
a member of a Super  Group, the West Coast Defenders, and if there is
any hope of turning this event into a victory for mankind, it's going
to be up to us.  I just wish British Airwave could be there.

WCD #51 "Victory and Defeat"
Starring Spectrum and the West Coast Defenders, Aurora, and the Crew
of the Lenny Bruce
Co-Authored by Chris Angelini and Lawrence Brown, aka Frobozz and Amigoid

  The Doctor stepped out into the hallway a few yards from where an
anxious group of heroes stood waiting by the med lab entrance.   He
glanced at them for a moment, snorted in consternation, and popped a
jelly baby into his mouth.  At the sound, Foxy's ears twitched and she
glanced in his direction.  Tipping his hat, he softly muttered,
"Congratulations." He twisted a small device in his hands and a door
opened in front of him, which then closed and disappeared from
existence as he strode through.

  "Spectrum?" She was about to ask about the scarf-wearing strange man
who was suddenly no longer there, when doctor Dick van Sloan strode
out of the medical bay, drawing all eyes in the waiting room towards
him.
  Sloan glanced wearily around at the West Coast Defenders, eyes
pausing on Spectrum with some unspoken curiosity, before finally
drawing breath to speak.

  "I'm sorry. Events have caused Randall to suffer a serious heart
attack.  We fought for an hour to stabilize him, and like with all
battles that've gone on lately, we came up too damned short. He's
currently on life support; but he's holding on. That man is a fighter
if ever I've seen one."

  "When can we ssspeak with him?"  TDSM hissed.

  "I'm truly sorry," began Sloan, somehow meeting the Spider's many
glaring eyes. "I'd have to say that will have to wait until we get
home. *If* we make it back home. Based on ship scuttlebutt, our
chances are worse than his." He sighed in frustration. "We've done
what we can with the resources we have left on board. Until we get
back to earth, where there are medical bays that weren't lasered all
to Hell(tm), he won't be off of life support and we can't bring him
around.  He'll be safe for now... well, as safe as any of us are,
considering."

  Sloan returned his attention to Spectrum.  "I know that you've been
through a lot in a very short time; you all have. But when you're
feeling able, please come back to see me.  You and I have to have a
discussion about an important issue. A private discussion."

  The doctor turned and walked back into the overcrowded medical bay.
Puzzled by his last words, Spectrum glanced after him before shrugging
and leading the others down the corridors. As they neared the hangar,
they were joined by Parker Peterson, the Nikon Ninja.  His clothes and
sword looked freshly cleaned, and he carried a small handheld recorder
along with his signature camera slung around his neck.   Parker gave
the team the high sign and fell in step. He gestured with the
recorder, "Tonk authorized it.  It's a historic moment, so someone
needs to record things on the scene."

  "Maybe you'll get a Pulitzer," Spectrum sighed.  "Just try not to
cause any new problems.  If a fight breaks out, it might cost the
whole crew's lives.  We'll let Tonk take the lead, and speak when
spoken to.  Foxy, do what you can to clamp things down."

  "I'll try…" She responded softly, not wanting to dwell on her
empathy abilities more than she needed to.

  The team entered the hangar bay, which had been cleared of almost
every item possible, aside from the Nikon Ninja's huge rabbit Dord.
It was parked in the corner, looking almost like a small baby bunny
doing the ‘If I stay still, nobody will notice me…' routine which was
of course impossible for a construct the size of a minivan.

  The only other construct of any significance, was the Nintan
shuttle, landed near the external doors to the hangar. Its alien
presence cast an air of exotic menace over the docking bay, an
atmosphere punctuated by the almost too familiar sound of metal-clad
footsteps marching in unison behind the team. Spectrum tore his gaze
away from the strangely crafted shuttle to face Commander Tonk, who
brought up Clark's detail of armoured troopers.

  Spectrum traded salutes with the commanding officer while the
soldiers took up honor guard positions, crisply assuming a parade rest
stance.  He nodded to his team, and they assumed a semblance of the
same stance.  Nikon Ninja coughed softly to get Spectrum's attention,
drawing the man's attention to his recorder.  Spectrum gave the barest
of nods and whispered "Just stay back.". He then turned  to take a
position opposite Clark, flanking Tonk, who gestured forward with
hands that shook, for once, not with the D.T.s.

  As the trio approached the transport, its gangway hissed open and a
wave of tropical air wafted out from within. A moment later, three
serpentine Nintan followed it out, slithering down the ramp to form up
their own, opposing triad. One snake appeared to be the head warrior
or perhaps the security chief, as he was bristling with weapons.
Bristling also seemed to describe the Nintan's feelings about the
negotiations ceremony, his tongue flicking in and out as his eyes
darted around the room, sizing up the possibility of threat.  Another
snake, pale and thin, seemed more interested in the readings of
various displays on what was most likely some sort of scanner.  The
presumed leader, a more weathered-seeming serpent than the
security-minded Nintan, carried with him an air of lethality that was
far more intimidating than any of the three, despite having no
apparent weapons.  He carried an egg, a simple egg about the size of a
grapefruit, with the solemn decorum that a ruler might hold a scepter.

  "I am Commander Tonk, Captain of the CSS Lenny Bruce," began Tonk,
hoping that nobody else heard her voice crack when she began. "This is
John Clark, commander of my assault team. And this is Spectrum, leader
of the West Coast Defenders. We come from--"

  "WE ARE AWARE OF YOUR ORIGINS, EARTHER!"  The battle-snake hissed
with barely contained rage.  "Do not prolong this suffering with talk!
 Lost, many warriors to you have been!"  The hissing of the angry
snake synchronized with the disjointed English translation that was
being broadcast from the device the pale snake carried.  Its
positional audio made the words seem to come from the right snake,
rather than from the device itself.

  The snake took a breath to continue his tirade, when the leader
raised one clawed hand from holding the egg, with a gesture that
universally could be interpreted as "STFU". Smoothly taking control of
the situation, he regarded the Captain. Tonk mentally shivered,
wondering how a trapped rat might feel before the cobra struck.
Snakes. Why did it always have to be snakes? Especially while she was
stone cold sober?
  "Prepared, you are, to hear our terms?"

  Tonk nodded.  "I am. Without either accepting or refusing, ah...
respectfully I listen."

  She hoped that what intel her team had scraped up regarding protocol
was correct, and was rewarded with a startled twitch of recognition by
the serpent trio hearing a familiar formula.

Good, she thought. We're not going to die immediately.

The warrior snake cocked his weapon and its power systems whined.
Clark prayed to all the gods who would listen that his men would
remember themselves and stay at ease. TDSM hissed, but immediately
shut up when Spectrum shot him a withering glance, eyes pulsing with
energy.

  The leader of the Nintan regarded Spectrum, and then returned his
gaze to Tonk.  "Very well.  In honor we complete this."  He handed
Tonk the egg that, to her practiced eye, would make one Hell(tm) of a
Prarie Oyster. It felt warm and and unpleasantly alive to the touch.
Hiding her revulsion, Tonk examined it cautiously, while trying to
recall the words that went along with this gesture. "I accept this as
your bond and responsibility I claim."  Tonk paused, choosing her
words carefully, as her briefing had gone no further, leaving her to
guess at the correct way to proceed. "We apologize that we do not know
what is appropriate to offer in return, and intend no dishonor or
disrespect.  The, uhm, the failure is ours.  What are your intentions
at this juncture?"

  The snake leader paused, as if unsure how to continue.  "By this we
are confused.  But for the glory of the Nintan Empire, we take the
difficult way of mystery, and... " He drew himself up to full height,
clothing himself in a strangely humble dignity. "We surrender."

  The silence was deafening.   Tonk glanced at Clark. Clark shot
Spectrum a sudden look, as if to ask 'did you hear that too?'

  Speaking for everyone assembled on deck, Foxy blurted out, "Say what?!?"

  The pale snake spoke. "We are the Nintan.  We are not hatchlings
wiggling in new skins.  Powerful you are. While we may yet triumph,
many questions unanswered would be.  Destroyed our ships and outposts
might be, and our homeworld would proceed in darkness with nothing
gained."

  The warrior snake set his weapon down on the ground in front of
Clark, barrel pointed back at the snake. The soldier serpent drew
back, his eyes flashing with anger and... sorrow?  "Why did you dare
attack us? Unwarranted this was!"

  Clark glanced at Tonk, who gave him a nod. Great, he thought. How do
I explain this one?

  "Enemy ships and combatants identifying themselves as part of an
invading Nintan army attacked our planet, and our ship." He began.
"The intel we gained from captured sn--ah, the Nintan, revealed an
armada was forming here in this area.  We were sent here to stop the
invasion, out of self-defense."

  The lead snake muttered something that was not picked up by the
translator, but somehow Tonk knew it translated to the desire for a
stiff drink.   "This humble outpost is hardly the place of a strike
force.  As I suspected, somehow your race and ours has been misled by
another party." The snake slithered calmly around Spectrum, and slowly
passed by the rest of the West Coast Defenders.  "It is because of
such as these that your planet was classified as a quarantined region
of space by most intelligent forms of life."  He spoke the words
without malice, as calmly as a doctor would in discussing a minor skin
infection.   "While the Nintan race collectively has the power to
annihilate your entire system, it was decided long ago the best choice
was to leave your race to their own ends, at least until you either
molted and matured, destroyed yourselves, or through your interstellar
expansion became a threat to our Empire."

  Spectrum opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it.

  The lead snake cocked his head.  "Something to say, you have?"

  Spectrum replied, "Sir, it is not my place to speak. Captain Tonk, I
request permission."

  "Oh what the Hell(tm) ever," growled Tonk. "I think we're about
three left turns too far into Wackyland to stand on ceremony anymore."

  Spectrum retracted the gauntlet from his right hand, and extended
his hand towards the leader. "My name is Lawrence Brown, and I am a
superguy. I lead the team known as the West Coast Defenders, and my
team encountered the first cluster of disguised terrorists claiming to
be Nintan.  May I know your name?"

  The leader regarded Spectrum's hand, and then extended his own.  "An
Earth handshake of greeting this is?  Very well, I exchange my name in
greeting too. You may call me Cheese Fondue…" he whipped his head
toward the thin snake, which slapped the translation device, "Pardon.
My name is hard to translate.  You may refer to me as Adelind, my
counselor of war is Ormarr, and my science counselor shall be
addressed as Bindy."  He took Spectrum's hand firmly and gave it an
experimental shake before releasing it.

  Spectrum nodded, and gravely regarded the trio. "Adelind, I agree
that there must be a misunderstanding.  For my part, I hope that we
can straighten things out so that you no longer regard us as a threat
to your race."

  Ormarr hissed, "So speaks walking-death-star. Much you must answer for!"

  Clark unshouldered his rifle, and in the same fashion as Ormarr had,
placed his rifle on the ground in front of Ormarr.  "Answers are what
we are here for."

  Tonk regarded the egg he was holding.  "So, this is one of your
eggs?  Its alive?"

  Adelind replied, "Yes. This is a helpless one that has yet to be
hatched. A symbol of our earnest intent to make hostilities stop, and
trust that placing ourselves in your hands you will treat this as a
precious action."

  Tonk's face quirked into an almost rictus smile at the thought of
ordering Sparks to hatch the egg, but practicality -- and a desire to
let go of the rejected prop from an alien movie -- won out over
gallows humour, "Would I be offending you if I thanked you for the
gift, and then returned it to you for you to care for it?  I would
hate to drop it and cause an interstellar war."

  Bindy reached for the egg. "As you are not rejecting the token, but
showing respect for the life within, you cause no offense.
Traditionally, eggs would be exchanged, and the hatchlings would be
raised by the disputing parties as a gesture of intent for unity and
peace. "

  Tonk grinned as a thought came to her. "Perhaps we can adapt this
custom for this circumstance.  We accept your word that those who
attacked us were not Nintan.  Understand then that we seek to find out
who would want us at war."

  "May we speak to the Nintan whom you have captured?" inquired
Adelind, seeming to respond to a silent request from his advisor. "We
would like to know why they turned traitor and bent you towards our
destruction."

  "I'm afraid the captives are all dead," began Clark, who nearly
slapped gauntlet to forehead as he realized what he had just
implied...

  "You *murdered* your prisoners of war?" bellowed Ormarr, his scales
bunching together as he reared towards Clark. "You savage monkey-mice!
You deserve nothing more than to be cleaned from the skies by--"

  "Patience," hissed Adelind, who seemed no less angered than Ormarr.
He turned to Clark. "Speak clearly. Now. Why did they die?"

  "It wasn't by our hands," replied Clark, feeling a gnawing sensation
in his stomach that he could only identify as the return of 'fear of
imminent death'. "They destroyed themselves whenever we tried to take
them alive."
  While he suspected that it wasn't possible for the three snakes to
turn pale, somehow Clark knew that were they human, the trio would
have done just that.

  "Destroyed themselves?" whispered Ormarr, clearly shaken to the
core. "Destroyed themselves? Deliberately... they deliberately took
their own lives?"

  "No," hissed Adelind. "No, none of our race could have fallen so far
as to throw away the gift of life, not by their own hand. Surely they
provoked you? Please. Please speak the truth. Tell us that they
spurned you into killing them, and take back this nightmare you have
woven. We will not fault you for it..."

  "I wish that I could," replied Clark, mustering all his will to keep
from glancing down and away from the all-too recognizable anguish and
horror written across otherwise alien faces. "But our way is to
capture when we can and to kill only when needed."

  "Some... sort of atavism?" Bindy asked of the other two. "Perhaps
they were abducted by the third party and broken, somehow...?"

  "I will hold to the hope of such a thing," replied Ormarr, his
scales bunching once more. "Even as such a crime must be answered..."

  "EXCREMENT!"  Bindy suddenly shouted, thrusting the egg to a
startled Ormarr.  "This must wait... hostile warship appearing from
unseen light!"  She turned all of her attention to her handheld
device. "It is non-Terran, non-Nintan…"

  The ships alarms sounded.  Tonk punched her commo, "Sparks what the
Hell(tm) is going on?"

"Captain," replied Sparks, his voice a melange of fatigued anxiety.
"We have a hostile. A big one."

IS THIS THE END OF THE CREW OF THE LENNY BRUCE?

(WAIT, WE SAID THAT LAST TIME!)

IS THIS THE BEGINNING OF THE LENNY BRUCE?

(NO… THAT’S SILLY. START AGAIN!)

IS THIS THE END THAT WE THOUGHT WAS THE END LAST TIME BUT TURNED OUT
TO BE A NEW BEGINNING FOR THE LENNY BRUCE?

SUPERGUY.  WORTH THE WAIT.


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