//------------------------------//
// Lost in Space 
// Story: The Rock in the Gulch 
// by Tatsurou 
//------------------------------//

Simmons and Tucker glanced around at their surroundings.  They were in a strange structure that seemed to be all grey metal walls...except for the few alcoves with red walls that led to green energy fields.  There did not seem to be any doors, windows, or control panels anywhere they could get to.  "So...any idea where we are?" Tucker asked Simmons curiously.

"I was just about to ask you that!" Simmons countered irritably.  "What makes you assume I know something?"

"Well, this place seems sciency," Tucker explained.  "I figured you would either recognize it or figure out how to make use of it."

"I am not some crazy mad scientist miracle worker who can pull crazy solutions and inventions out of my ass!" Simmons snapped back.  "...except when I'm drunk, apparently.  Otherwise, I am a man of logic, reason, and physics!  ...is it any wonder I've started drinking since Maud showed up?"

"Are you saying you don't like that Maud's shown up?" Tucker demanded angrily, his hands tightening on his weapons.

"Well...honestly, the only real good thing for me is that I'm far less likely to get killed by someone on your team," Simmons allowed.  "Not that there ever seemed to be a chance of that happening anyway.  None of us are exactly 'the cream of the crop' when it comes to troops...except for you and Grif when you fight each other, for some reason."

"Speaking of which, do you know any weaknesses of his I can exploit for our next fight?" Tucker pressed eagerly.  "I'm looking forward to grinding him into the dirt until he cries like a bitch."

"Odd of you to say," Simmons observed thoughtfully.  "He's looking forward to the day he can, and I quote, 'break you like a Kit Kat bar'.  But no, I don't know any of his weaknesses I'm willing to share with you."

"What?" Tucker demanded angrily.  "Why not?"

"One, because he's the closest thing to a friend I have in Blood Gulch," Simmons pointed out.  "Two, what weaknesses of his I do know don't seem to apply while he's fighting you.  And three, you're kind of a prick."

Tucker stared at Simmons for a time.  "I could have done without the last one."

"I couldn't," Simmons countered with an audible smirk.  "Now, I'm going to try and get in contact with Sarge.  It seems like we got scattered by the teleporter somehow."  He tapped his communicator.  "Sarge, do you read?  It appears we've been scattered by the teleporter, I suspect sabotage...or possibly someone salvaging parts from it without knowing what it would do to the teleporter, either's possible."

"Doc did mention that Caboose used part of the teleporter in Maud's armor," Tucker pointed out thoughtfully.

"Oh, so it's all Caboose's fault," Simmons observed ruefully.  "I want to pin it on Maud being here again, but I get the feeling that's a suicidal stance to take.  Besides, she'd probably appear right behind me to make some sarcastic quip about it.  ...that might be a good way to get out-"

"She can't take anyone with her when she hops," Tucker pointed out.

"Dammit..." Simmons grumbled.  "Well, no word from Sarge.  Guess we'll have to figure this out on our own.  Hope the others are doing okay..."





Sarge and Caboose found themselves standing in a river in a canyon of some sort, or possibly a valley.  They were surrounded by lush vegetation, and very little sign of people aside from distant buildings.  In point of fact, aside from a few differences, it closely resembled Blood Gulch.  "Hello!" Sarge called out, hoping for some sort of response from either locals or his communicator.  "Do you read me?  Do I read anyone?"

"I read you!" Caboose offered happily.  "Though not very well.  I have to sound out the words sometimes, especially when they have too many...sylph-labels?  I think that's right."

"Everyone has to do that every now and then," Sarge replied as he turned off his communicator.  "Well, it looks like the two of us are up shit creek-"

"Looks clean to me..." Caboose pointed out as he looked down.

"-but don't worry, because I made sure we came equipped with one hell of a paddle!" he declared as he patted the M.A.U.D.-doken packs he'd distributed to everyone before they went through.  While the firepower was certainly effective, he honestly just enjoyed the feeling of having a pony strapped to his back.  "For now, let's get out of this water before the joints in the armor start rusting!"

"Does that mean we won't need the paddles anymore?" Caboose asked as he followed Sarge out of the river.  "I don't want to have to leave anything that looks like my sis behind."

"No worries there!" Sarge declared happily as he made his way towards a building.  "Paddles are good for bludgeons as well as aquatic maneuvering!  And I feel in a clobbering mood today!"

"Covering my head!" Caboose declared as he ducked, putting his hands over his head.

"Stop that!" Sarge snapped out angrily.  "Does it look like I'm reading a will?  Stay in combat positions!"

As they moved along, they came across a body in blue armor sprawled across the dirt with red stains on the ground around it.  "Sarge, look!" Caboose declared in a whisper.  "A sleeping person!"

Sarge blinked, staring from the body to the bullet holes in the wall behind it.  "I don't think he's sleeping," he offered carefully.

"...sneaking, then?" Caboose asked curiously.

"...you know what?  Let's go with sleeping."

"Okay!" Caboose declared happily.  He turned to go around the building.

"I'm torn," Sarge murmured under his breath to keep Caboose from hearing.  "On the one hand, one less scoundrel Blue in the world.  On the other...now Lopez has a bigger body count than me!"

"Sarge, look!" Caboose called out from around the corner of the building.  "More sleeping people!"

Following Caboose, Sarge saw bodies in Red and Blue sprawled out in the dirt, surrounded by weaponry both loaded and spent, red spattering the ground around them where it was visible.

"It must be Nap Time!" Caboose declared excitedly.  "But who has nap time now?  It comes before Pants time, not after..."

"What in Maud's name happened here?" Sarge demanded in shock.  "It must have been an enormous battle!"  He turned towards the bodies.  "Hello!" he called out.  "Is anyone okay?  Are there any survivors?"

At that moment, a trumpet blared from somewhere, playing Reveille.  As the song ended, all the 'dead' soldiers suddenly stood up and cheered.  They then dashed off to the two buildings, now plainly visible as a Red and Blue base.

Sarge stared for a time.  "Think they've got a pony here, too?" he asked curiously.  "That's the only explanation I can think of for how they could get up when they were full of holes."

"Oh, I hope so!" Caboose declared happily.  "I love ponies!"

As a trumpet began to play again from somewhere, Sarge pulled Caboose back.  "Something strange is going on here..."

As the trumpet finished playing, the troops charged out of the bases at each other, screaming profanities at ally and enemy alike as they blasted away at each other like nine-year-olds who just got their X Box Live subscription with voice chat, trying and failing to bad mouth their foes in an intimidating way, coming across only as pathetic.  As Sarge and Caboose watched, they mowed each other down until only one Red remained standing, at which point he starting shouting about 'Good Game, GG'...at which point he suddenly dropped dead.

"...I'm scared..." Caboose murmured worriedly.

At that moment, the 'Reveille' trumpet blared again, and the troops all got up.  This time, however, they noticed Sarge and Caboose.  "Hey, look at the ponyfags!" one of the Reds called out, gesturing at Sarge.

"Furry cock-suckers!" one of the Blues called out in agreement.  "What autistic retartds!"

Sarge's eyes narrowed.  "Let me see if I understand this situation correctly..." he growled out angrily.  "You lot don't stay dead...and you just insulted us for liking ponies.  Is that about right?"

"Yeah!" another Red called out.  "Whatcha gonna do about it, pussy?"

Sarge calmly put his gun away, cracking his knuckles.  "Introduce my friend here to a little something I call 'therapy'."  Lunging forward, he backhanded one of the troops so hard his helmet spun around as he fell over, grabbing the dropped gun and jamming it up somewhere painful - and anatomically improbable - on the nearest Blue.  "NEXT!"