(Project: SpaceCom) Part I : For Great Justice

The year is 20xx.

Earth is in a state of economic, social, political, and subgenomic chaos as never before seen.

Nuclear war is finally inevitable. The communists have won.

In a desperate attempt to save what’s left of humanity and civilization the governments of the world hire some of the earths top scientists to devise a way to upload a copy of the human race into cyberspace.

The project was a success.

Too much of a success…

Due to the human nature, this cyberspace was quickly overrun by spamers, scamers, lamers, SEO newbs, bloggers, chatters, usenet, camwhores and a thriving porn district.

Measures had to be taken to keep things in check.

With the last remains of their waning powers the Great Admins established an internet standards body…

Called SpaceCom.

An elite force of assholes blessed with a minor amount of administrative privileges, these men where called Space Commanders.

With their limited understanding of social interaction, these brave cyber soldiers were put to work in securing…

The internets!

Part I : For Great Justice

The enemy was all around them; shields were up, and multiplexers were multiplexing as fast as any multi can plex. They were about to get pounded in the keister so hard, that they wouldn’t be able to take a dump without being reminded that someone had fun.

“This mission has just gone way beyond FUBAR,” Yelled the captain; fists clenched, teeth gnashing, sweat pouring, buttocks tightened. “Pull up your knickers lads, we’re going in, and we’re going in so fast we’ll make ‘em wonder if it was consensual! Hell, let’s make sure they wake up tomorrow feeling dirty n’ used!” The captain turned to the radar unit.

Commander Uncanny was busily monitoring the various components and displays that made up the radar. Little red lights were slowly consuming the single little green dot. Unfortunately this really meant nothing to Uncanny.

“Radar, what are you seeing? Give a stat-rep!” The captain yelled, pacing around the room, his eyes focused upon Uncanny.

“There appear to be a variety of many different multitudes, sir,” Commander Uncanny, the sole commander in charge of radar, replied.

“A more precise estimate would be appreciated, Uncanny!”

Uncanny hesitated a moment before stuttering forth, “Plenty, sir!”

Most of the commanders in the room fell silent, as the captain stood motionless on the deck. He frowned, which normally meant that someone would die. This time, however, it was because he didn’t want to cry in front of his men.

“Just throw out a damn number,” Ironside, the sock operator, said to Uncanny, leaning back.

“Yes! Three, sir. I see three!” Uncanny thoughtlessly declared.

Ironside grabbed his forehead. That wasn’t enough to describe the swarms of little red lights on the radar.

“Radar unit, I will have you reported to SPACECOM! If you fail to comply with my orders, you will be delivered to the middle of a right shit-storm, and made to count every last little red point on that radar. If that’s not enough, I will have you lead a one-man infiltration to the base of our target in question!” The captain leaned over the radar, and bellowed in Uncanny’s ill-prepared face, “I will see to it that you are left there! Your skinny virgin ass will be served to the enemy on a silver plate, and trust me,” shouted the captain, “THEY LIKE ASS!”

“There’s a lot!”

“How, many… are there!?”

Uncanny knew more digits were needed. “Plenty! Without a doubt!”

The captain shot Uncanny and angry look as he continued to pace around the deck. As it appeared, the situation was not in Uncanny’s favor.

“I hope you and those red lights get along.”

Deep in a mass of exotic foliage, Uncanny could finally see it: The gigantic high-rise where a group of rouge space Mafiosi where keeping the Box. This particular building was a towering mass of anodized steel and glass that almost perfectly reflecting its environs making it nearly invisible. No wonder Spacecom’s Recon division couldn’t find it. There was no way this thing would show on Google maps.

Uncanny guessed that the box must have its command center at the topmost floor. That’s just how space Mafiosi liked it.

Damn them and their saucy unibrows and stylish suspenders and soft chest hair and… Uncanny drifted into thought. Enough of that! He had to focus.

“Sir, reporting heavy enemy activity!” Uncanny yelled into his Space Intercom.

“Head count Uncanny. I need numbers!” The captains voice crackled over the intercom.

“There appear to be… Quite a generous handful!”

“Head. Count.” The voice grew more frustrated.

“Many!”

“NUMBERS! I WANT NUMBERS! Do you want me to spell it out to you?”

“No sir, that won’t be necessary. There are plenty around me.” Uncanny quickly replied. If there was anything he disliked more than math then it was a bloody grammar Nazi.

“Uncanny, please. I’m asking nicely now. For me?”

Well… Uncanny stopped. Since the man was putting it that way he determined to give it his best shot. “I believe there definitively is without a doubt a remote possibility that there are certainly more than three,” he responded, before quickly adding, “Can I shoot one?”

“NO! Secure your trigger finger!” The captains voice growled “…Three?!”

“Yes, and a bunch more! If I shoot one there’ll be less!”

There was a disturbing silence. By this time Uncanny knew for certain; the captain hated fuzzy estimates.

“Sir?”

“Damn you, bloody sod! I’LL COME DOWN THERE AND UNDO YOU PHYSICALLY!” The voice of the captain hit such a pitch as to distort the intercom. Uncanny thought of informing his superior that he might want to adjust his mic but thought better of it.

“Sir, I can’t count,” he came clean.

The captain fell silent as static hissed over the communication devise. It was only a mater of time before he would snap and the whole mission would go P-wop. Which is significantly crazier than J-pop.

This wasn’t good news. The captain probably ate his communicator by now, or even worst, may have turned the ship around and ran it into the nearest sun. Nevertheless, truth hurts, and truth was that Uncanny could not count.

“But it looks like there’s three!” Uncanny enthusiastically commented.

Silence.

“Wait! Don’t take my word for it. Another just popped up!” He considered the scene at hand. “There’s quite a few of them now.”

He considered a little more. “Cheeky little bastards!”

“God damn it! I’ll kill you until you die! If I had a gun on hand, Uncanny I’d stab you! Stay where you are. I’m sending educated men down to complete the mission and relieve you. Or on you, I haven’t decided!”

“Sir, this really isn’t’ the time for…”

“Time? You are a waste of time. I can’t believe you even call yourself a space -”

“Sir.”

“WHO THE HELL GAVE YOU YOUR POSITION ANYWAY? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!”

“Well, basically the job called for brawn over brains. But my firm abs aside sir, they appear to be mobilizing!”

“Stay PUT.” The captain ordered with much determination. “I’m sending REAL commanders in.”

Now having a choice between staying and listening to the captain, or moving in and flexing his brawn, Uncanny felt drawn to the latter. He liked chest hair. Especially if it’s soft.
“No problem! I’ll be in the area!”

“Uncanny -” The captains incessant nagging fell silent as Uncanny deactivated his intercom. This was going to be a tricky mission, but he saw an opening that he was not going to pass up on.

“VIGILAAAANCE!” Uncanny shouted as he darted out of the shrubs and at the skyscraper… as well as all the surrounding space Mafiosi.

The men sprang to attention, pulling out an assortment of clubs, bats, photo-phasic transducers, and whatever else they deemed necessary to ward off intruders and small, innocent children. Some even unbuttoned their shirts to expose their chest hair.

“For Space-Com!” Uncanny cried as he pulled out his space blaster and set it to Invert.

Some of the thugs caught wind of this and ducked behind the nearest shrubs.

Uncanny quickly made his way to the glass tower tactfully Inverting any foul smelling hooligans that stood in his path. His aim was skillful and he knew it.

A few of the space Mafiosi rushed at Uncanny with bats and transducers on hand, swinging and buzzing.

They were quickly inverted.

Uncanny dodged behind a stair-case at the base of the building, considering his means of entry. The large glass doors stood naught but twelve feet away from him, chances where slim but he knew he could make it.

“Set zapper to… Potato!” Uncanny ordered as he took aim at the buildings glass wall. “BLOWTATO TIME!”

He fired.

The glass base of the building exploded into millions of deliciously fried shards that fell like rain about the vicinity. It was an awe-inspiring scene. Even the space Mafiosi stopped for a moment to be impressed. They had a soft spot for food.

Uncanny ran through the entrance and down the hall. Potatoes, glass, and bits of inverted Italians flew about the long passageway as he leapt into the elevator. A brave Mafiosi pulled out a transducer and hurled it at the then open elevator, but it was too late. A ting! followed as the device bounced off two very closed elevator doors.

Uncanny smiled as he brushed a handful of Italian dust off his space suit.

“Top floor!” He declared, pressing any number above three.