Chapter 1: Space Happens
In the depths of space, far off in the distant future… (I think it was a Tuesday, Marklar time)
Where great battles had been fought across the stars and heroes rose and fell along with the empires and intergalactic tyrants against whom they strove…
Where countless mysteries and secrets lay in wait within the ancient temples and repositories of a million million ancient, extinct alien races upon myriad frozen planets orbiting withered stars…
Where fate and destiny were forged and unmade by the great and the small, where gods wove the tapestries of creation itself and the known universe turned on its head at any moment by some great cosmic epiphany…
A rather drab salvage ship painted a color that could be generously referred to as resembling a rather loose bowel movement bobbled along drunkenly in its warp bubble, on the way to yet another unremarkable delivery location to receive a yet another modest return on its occupant’s investment.
Its destination: Materials Reclamation Planet 0274, known in the common local interstellar dialect as “Re’ek e-uw Gudgald Myist Stu’unk Merd” which in the universal language of English translates roughly “The World of a Thousand Unidentifiable Odors”.
Cargo: various quantities of ‘assorted alien crap’ as recorded on the ship’s manifest.
Within this unremarkable vessel, the Primadona of the Pine Barrens, affectionately named after the lone organic occupant’s home turf, Captain Albert Lorenzo Ortega Norbert Dennis Robertson-Orleander the third, or Alondro as he’d ‘acronymed’ it, warbled a merry if not entirely melodious tune while partaking in self-made spirits the formulas for which he’d modified from recipes acquired in bars and taverns on more than a hundred alien worlds, and which so far had (mostly) proven non-lethal.
“Doo-bee-doo, flyin’ in mah ship! Dee-doo-boo, not gonna take no lip!” sang the roguish semi-almost-not-quite-middle-aged captain/crew/cook enjoyed the mild delusion that he was not past his prime by keeping his silver-flecked hair long enough to compensate for a bout of inherited age-related masculine alopecia (It’s a legitimate clinical condition! Don’t you dare call it male-pattern baldness.)
“Captain Alondro,” calmly interjected the thankfully competent and ever-logical H.E.L.I.C.S. (Human-Emulating Linguistically Interactive Computer System) in its calm tones, gifted by its creator with the patience of a saint with regards to its rather dimwitted commander.
“King of Space, soarin’ freeeeeee! Can’t cut the pace of mah LIBERTY-EEEEEEEEE-YEEEAAAAHHHH!!” warbled said captain, pausing his spinning bridge chair only long enough to guzzle the latest batch of ‘patented’ intoxicating swill he’d loosely trademarked under the name ‘Chaos Koolaid’.
“While I am loath to interrupt your current ‘Synthetic Experimental Booze Happy Fun Time Sing-A-Long Karaoke Hour’,” H.E.L.I.C.S. intoned sagely. “I must request your attention for a pressing matter.” Extending a mechanical arm to steady its swaying commander, H.E.L.I.C.S. latched onto the faded collar of Alondro’s plaid shirt, a relic of ancient horror which had somehow escaped obliteration after the dreaded dark ages of disco, likely due the material’s half-life of approximately 7,000 years.
With eyes managing to point in entirely different directions, Captain Alondro belched, “Oh hey… you… uhm… Hal? Open the pod bay doors! HA HA HA!”
“Sir…”
Alondro’s expression suddenly took a somber tone as he suddenly sat upright, “Oh yeah, pod bay doors are busted. Remind me to fix that.”
“Captain, if I could just mention an increasingly serious problem I have monitored…”
Alondro quickly turned toward the computer’s friendly camera lens, “H.E.L.I.C.S., I think we have a problem.”
“Yes captain, a new navigation warning for this sector has just been issued by the Space Weather Channel. Apparently there is a…”
“I’m gonna throw up...” An ominous rumble emanated from his sagging gut. “Right now…” Alondro proceeded to paint the bridge a variegated palette of Chaos Koolaid emesis, which apparently took on myriad hues when exposed to human stomach secretions and bile salts.
Impatient for its captain to completely evacuate his system of the noxious rainbow, given the urgency of the matter it wished to bring to his attention, H.E.L.I.C.S. turned up its volume, “SIR, A NEWLY DETECTED ROGUE BLACK HOLE WILL BE CROSSING OUR PLOTTED COURSE. THERE IS A 99.9% CHANCE THAT THE SHIP WILL ENCOUNTER IT WITH CURRENT RELATIVE VELOCITY.”
Alondro paused, heaving, “That’s a bad thing, right?”
“I am of the opinion that the ship being torn apart at the sub-quantum level from the interaction of a warp bubble and a singularity qualifies as an exceedingly ‘bad thing’, sir,” H.E.L.I.C.S. replied.
Nodding between stomach spasms, Alondro dragged himself toward the controls. “Ok, I get it. Quit the dramatics. How we doin’ this?”
“Might I suggest reducing warp manifold by 5%? Or perhaps altering field orientation by 3 degrees starboard, changing our trajectory to safely avoid the singularity?”
“Sure, that works,” Alondro groaned, attempting to focus while leadenly toggling toggles, lifting leavers, and pushing buttons and various flashy lights. “Never did figure out why they make these standard control panels so damned complicated,” he complained. “Ain’t exactly rocket science… ok, maybe it is, but I’m not a rocket scientist!”
“I do not believe anyone would mistake you for one, Captain.” Intoned H.E.L.I.C.S.
“Smartass computer brain,” Alondro grumbled, massaging his temples to clear his head enough to enter a basic course correction any first year Space Driving School Student could manage. “Why don’t you just do this yourself if you’re so good at flying the ship?”
“Due to the restrictions built into my programming, I am unable to assume autonomous control of the ship unless all crew are either not present or rendered incapable of piloting the ship. I believe it was either an oversight or the initial designer’s paranoia of AI’s taking over the world. In any case, the protocols were amended in later editions of my program to include a broader range of criteria.”
“Huh, so that explains why I got ya so cheap.”
And then suddenly, an explosion! Of vomit as Alondro threw up again… all over the control panel. And then there was a real explosion as an accidental discovery was made. Partially digested Chaos Koolaid, it turned out, was quite volatile when it made contact with an electric current.
Thrown upon his back by the blast, Captain Alondro flailed helplessly, far too wasted by this point to pick himself up.
“Captain,” calmly announced H.E.L.I.C.S. as the ship’s warp field began to warp, but in a bad way and not the good space-travelling way. “It seems that not only are we now 100% certain to impact with the rogue black hole, but your unfortunate aim has also shorted out the main navigational bus, the spatial dampening system, and also caused a power surge that has scrambled the regulatory circuits of the exotic matter nacelle and reactor containment fields.”
“Well,” Alondro blinked in his supine posture, nonchalant in the face of certain doom (being really, really drunk helped). “That sucks. Any good news?”
“My own systems seem to be undamaged, so I may continue to update you until we are destroyed.”
“Oh, ok then. I’m just gonna lie here for a while until everything stops moving weird.”
“That may be spatiotemporal distortion, captain,” H.E.L.I.C.S. offered. “ The ship’s warp field is folding back in on itself in a most peculiar way I have not encountered in any physics articles contained in my memory banks and our space-time pocket is becoming affected. It is unfortunate we are unlikely to survive this experience; otherwise I should think this phenomenon would make quite a fascinating study in warp field dynamics. I should also mention, assuming the ship and all its contents have not already become a smear of light-speed velocity cosmic radiation before then, impact with singularity will occur in approximately 46 seconds.”
“Well damn. Uhm, any way we could… not blow up?”
“I know of nothing with any significant probability of preventing our destruction,” H.E.L.I.C.S. commented in its ever cool and collected voice as it briskly analyzed all data concerning unstable warp fields. “However, there is a single option with approximately a 5.4% chance of successfully mitigating our obliteration. It will require me to assume complete control of all remaining operational systems and will involve inverting the exotic matter torus via…”
“H.E.L.I.C.S.,” Alondro hiccupped. “Explain it to me if we’re alive later. I’m inca-crapitasted… incarcipated… I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. Just do it.”
“Affirmative, sir. Sole crew member confirmed as incapacitated…”
“THAT’S the word!”
“…initiating command and control protocols… control established… engaging hypothetical protocol… warp field inverting… spatial distortion subsiding… WARNING, proximity to intense gravitational field!”
“Oh balls…”
“…containment fields breached… exotic matter interacting with gravity well… warp field… is unpredictably intensifying… exponential power spike, possibly due to exotic matter decay within gravity well feeding back though warp field? Unknown variables… incalculable torsion of local space… exceeding all theoretical parameters… Executing emergency program ‘Da fuq is going on?’”
“I REGRET… EVERYTHING!!” Alondro wailed and then vomited a final time; from fear, from space literally twisting his gut in knots, or from intoxication he would never be sure.
The drab little ship briefly burst into normal space moments before impacting the event horizon of the wandering black hole, its appearance to any nearby voyeurs so severely contorted and mottled by the feuding fields and immense energies bitch-slapping each other that, more than ever before, it really resembled the result of a bout of explosive diarrhea. And then, the very fabric of the universe appeared to fracture around it and the ship vanishes in a titanic flash. The black hole, thoroughly perplexed as the impossible puncture into another reality granted it a brief moment of self-awareness, blew itself apart in an act of ritual suicide to the space poo gods which gave it life.
How tragic.
…………………………………
It was another bright and cheerful late afternoon in the apple-like alien orchards of a country farm which lay on the outskirts of a little town colloquially called ‘Ponyville’ in the magical land of brightly-colored talking diminutive equine-like aliens named Equestria. And if you think the horse-themed naming conventions are painful now, you’re going to need some serious anesthetics before this story is over…
A hard-working citizen of the mystical land, cheerful and content with her labors as any good and pure creature in a magical fairy tale land ought to be, an outrageously orange-hued female member of the alien race which called themselves ‘ponies’ named Applejack stood upon a hill overlooking the orchard and fields. She pushed back her Stetson-like alien hat, wiped her brow, surveying proudly the landscape of her family farm, Sweet Apple Acres. Pride beamed from her honest face in appreciation of another day’s labors completed.
“A long haul, it sure enough was,” she sighed with the satisfied blissful fatigue that only comes with many hours of grueling manual labor, after your brain has been pumping out endorphins for a while to cover the agony of millions of torn muscle fibers. “But the farm ain’t never looked better, if a do say so myself! Jess look at them apples, almost a-glowin’. Pretty soon it’ll be harvest time, and Granny Smith can finally get her new hip, Big Mac can get a new plow, and maybe we can even afford to get Applebloom treatment for her… condition…” Her expression fell briefly, but magical ethers soon permeated her brain along with an extra-large surge of natural neurochemical opiates and she was smiling brightly with a slightly glazed look in her eyes in moments.
Unfortunately this partly-natural, partly-eerie-magical-brainwashing high came with the consequence of a relaxing of common sense which would normally scream warnings to any normal sapient creature to never say what Applejack said next: “Yep, nothing could possibly go wrong now.”
And that was when the heavens were torn asunder and a huge, totally unrecognizable smoking and twisted mass burst from the rent in the cosmos and slammed into the orchard, flattening quite a good portion of it with its bulk and knocking down most of what remained with the shock wave from its impact.
As though ashamed of itself for dealing out Murphy’s vengeance so severely, the vivid white crack in reality quickly sealed itself with a thunderous peal and vanished without a trace… besides the vaguely turd-shaped/colored, giant thing currently cratering Applejack’s orchard.
Weakly dragging herself up after the blast, AJ took a long look at the remains of her orchards and the thing resting in the midst of the devastation. “Oh buck me ta bucking Tartarus,” she mumbled before passing out.
(And so the madness began…)
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Trollfics aren't gonna be held by the community. Unless some of the more famous people publish it. Not good. I recommend ejecting thyself with speed!
3482197
No, it isn't a trollfic. I'm quite sure Alondro is deadly serious. (even if he is calling it one. I suppose it's bound to get worse?)
Having said that, it's intelligently written, just stupid. How is that possible? I could not tell you exactly... It is a mystery of the internet as age old as time itself is I'm sure.
Now, my opinion on whether this is a good fic? Yes, I think it's 'good', which is purely a subjective word, mind you. Though, in this case I may be guilty of some bias... I am quite found of madness, after all, one could say I'm even a proponent of it.
Some other cover art would probably do you well though, Alondro. Comedic satire is all well and good but if your art is literally... well... sh**, most folks won't look far past it.
3482290
Fireball, cinnamon schnapps.
AWWW YISS
BLACK SINGULARITY POO HOLES AND ALCOHOL
Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters. Just remember that friends don't let friends blarg-face through space.
3482218 See: "Young Frankenstein".
Well-written farce is out there!
3482218 You miss the point.
That the picture IS the point!
I think... not sure... I was REALLY insane last night. Too many hours cooped up with an ABR machine that wouldn't work right.
3482218 Oh it's going to get worse all right.
Especially once I get into the shipping and villain love triangles...
This nigga is in a flying turd!
That's all I wanted to say. Peace.
3486030 Independence Day alien dude: "Peace... no peace..."
"What is it you want us to do?"
"Dieeeeeeeeeee..."
3486157 Say it with me:
Giant. Flying. Turd.
Giant. Flying. Turd.
Giant. Flying. Turd.
GIANT FLYING TURD!!!
KAKAROT!
3486177 Where did I get this muffin?
3482197 Have you read some of the abysmal serious stories on here? You know, the ones which are one step away from sparkly vampire ponies and filled with plot holes, terrible cliches, listless OCs, lifeless characterizations, idiot-balling with a wrecking ball, pointless angst... and yet receive acclaim from emo teens with no lives?
I'm rebelling against them! VIVA LE REVOLUTION!!
(This is only the beginning... )
Oh yeah... I need to make the next chapter of this thing.
First, I need to find my notes... which are... somewhere in the giant stack of notes...
3483179 what is the meaning of life?
4162535 Booze?
4162553 jesus bucking christ that was fast!
4162553 jesus bucking christ that was fast!
4162564 I happened to be on at the time.
wow, this borders on fics that should've never been published on this site because quite frankly, it feels as if ponies were added as an afterthought. I dont get it. Like I mentioned before there is zero underlying point, no effort to have it be funny, (this is about on par with a setzer and friedberg movie, or a pauly shore movie). quite frankly this story should stay on fanfiction.net
3532292
Okay...Sorry Alondro, but I think you missed the point.
Those stories you're referring to which are one step away from sparkly vampire ponies and filled with plot holes, terrible cliches, listless OCs, lifeless characterizations, idiot-balling with a wrecking ball, pointless angst... and yet receive acclaim from emo teens with no lives? They're ALL actually trollfics.
But don't feel so bad. You're not the only one who's missed the point of them being trollfics--so did everyone who upvoted them