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D-R-Dreadmor — Digi In Space
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Published: 2021-01-10 23:46:33 +0000 UTC; Views: 5613; Favourites: 11; Downloads: 0
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DIGI IN SPACE
Space…
It’s out there…
And within it…
An undisclosed distance into the here and now, is the Star Ship Sloshed Dunderhead. The most advanced flying beer bottle in the galaxy. Set to explore unknown, discover new life forms, and run screaming away from all of them when they inevitably turn hostile.
Its crew consisting of the beloved Captain Digi T. Vagrant, his voluptuous first mate Soviet Womble, and the doctor whose intellect should have kept him off this crew but whose bed side manner put him here in the first place, Dr. Tom.
In today’s episode; our heroes have been dispatched to explore a planet on the outskirts of Creamy Curds galaxy. They were told to make contact with any intelligent life forms and determine if there is potential for peaceful political relations. In truth, the ZF military forces know this mission is going to be botched and sent the most gullible crew they could find to act as a live target while nearby scouts observe the weapon capabilities of the planet’s inhabitants. The Sloshed Dunderhead did in fact make contact and are currently being hailed by a mysterious race of aliens…
???: “Ian jutht athking wha yuaall dounn thith thector. Whi ith that tho ard fo yatwoo undarthtand?”
[translation: “I am just asking what you’re all doing in this sector. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”]
Digi: “Something must be wrong with the signal; the universal translator is never this bad.”
Tom: “So long as you don’t ask it to translate Mandarin, that is.”
Digi: “Adjust the frequency range.”
First mate Soviet Womble adjusts various nobs on the communications terminal of her console. Soviet checks the computer display in between instances of flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulders. She lets out a sigh as she shakes her head then turns to the captain.
Soviet: “The frequency is not the problem. We are showing a strong and clear signal from the receiver.”
The voice from the alien star ship is gradually developing an irritated tone. This one-way conversation is wearing thin the patience of the ship’s captain.
???: “Yu enter da orbithawlorda uva planet andinun’t brinn thomeone huo cood undarthtood the acthentth of itth people? PLAN AHED YU UNCOOCHER TTHITHS!”
[translation: “You enter the orbital border of a planet and didn’t bring someone who could understood the accents of its people? PLAN AHEAD YOU UNCULTURED SHITS!”]
Dr. Tom turns to Soviet in confusion.
Tom: “THAT is a clear signal?”
Soviet: “I said the signal was clear. The message is a gaggled mess.”
???: “Fuk yu,yu dom weathel.”
[translation: “Fuck you, you dumb weasel.”]
While most of the language is lost in translation there is something universally understood about the phrase “fuck you” in spite of the dialect it is delivered in. Noticing this familiar phrase, the captain and medical officer instantly understand what Soviet Womble meant.
Tom and Digi: “Aaaaaaaaaaah.”
Digi: “Do we have a translator for, whatever we are listening to right now?”
Tom: “I don’t think the translator has a swollen-tongue setting.”
Soviet doing her due diligence, broadens the search criteria to find a suitable translation to match this alien dialect. Alas not even a universal translator can make sense of what our heroes are hearing.
Soviet: “No there isn’t anything... Wait, why is the closest result Toothless Hungarian. HOW MANY TOOTHLESS HUNGARIANS ARE WE EXPECTED TO ENCOUNTER!?!”
Tom: “Judging by the crew of this ship, it’s not far from the realm of possibilities.”
Soviet and Digi: “HEY!”
???: “Hahahaha!”
[translation: *laughter*]
Digi pleading with the aliens: “Look, we need to establish some means of communication that we both can understand. Can you send us a text-based message?”
???: “Fine.”
[translation: “Fine.”]
The alien captain began typing something on the console in front of him. With one final hit of a button the ship’s commander leans back in his seat. A beep from Soviet’s terminal indicates a message has been received.
Soviet: “I have their message, displaying on screen.”
With a single push of a button the message is displayed as subtitles on main screen in front of the crew. It reads; “You aure in the tearritowry of the Bell Planetaury Republic. Thtate your buthinethth or we will fire waurning thhotth, followed by lotth of non-waurning thhotth.” Translated it reads; You are in the territory of the Bell Planetary Republic. State your business or we will fire warning shots, followed by lots of NON-warning shots.”
Tom: “We found a truly fascinating species here. Hehe.”
Digi: “WHAT? How can this man’s fingers have a lisp?”
Soviet: “Don’t say that the…”
With a sudden jolt the Sloshed Dunderhead lurches sideways as the crew struggle to keep their footing from the sudden impact. At the same time a muffled sound of an explosion is heard from the right side of the ship.
Digi: “WHAT JUST HAPPENED!?!”
Tom: “It appears our company has grown irritated and fired a warning shot at us. No damage was done but now all the paintings in the hall will be tilted.”
Soviet: “THE CHANNEL WAS OPEN! THEY CAN HEAR EVERYTHING WE SAY!”
Digi: “Fuck, go to blue alert.”
Soviet turns to the left and flips a light switch on the wall. A glass panel 2 feet above the switch illuminates with the word “ALERT” with a blue light from behind the glass.
Soviet: “Well that accomplished nothing. Now what?”
Tom: “Didn’t the captain of the Sexy Poison spend a lot of time in this sector? He may be able to interpret what these people are saying.”
Soviet: “You are actually suggesting a mercenary should help defuse a volatile situation between us and a now hostile alien race?”
Tom: “If things really go tits up, we could always pay him to fight on our side.”
Another blast, closer than before, thrusts beer-bottle shaped ship rotating like it is in a game of spin the bottle. Tom and Soviet managed to grab their respective consoles in time so they wouldn’t be thrown by the impact. Soviet struggled a bit more than Tom due to her breasts being so bouncy. Such elasticity was not found by Digi, who was sent flailing over to the front side of the control consoles everyone was standing behind. Digi’s flower pot now rests on his posterior and his trash can lid is under chest.
Digi: “Soviet.”
Soviet: “Yes?”
Digi: “Please go to red alert.”
With a slow heavy sigh and narrowed eyes, Soviet reluctantly goes to the Alert panel as Digi picks himself up. Meanwhile, Tom searches for contact catalog from the “Thugs for Less” mercenary agency (this catalog comes standard in every ZF star ship). Soviet reaches deep into her bosom and retrieves a red bulb. She then opens the hatch of the alert panel and exchanges the blue bulb for the red bulb. Soviet closes the hatch and places the blue bulb deep into her cleavage.
Digi: “Hail the Sexy Poison. If we had other options, we would have used them by
now.”
Tom: “Agreed”
Soviet: “I’ll mute the line with our acquaintances outside but keep the channel active.”
Tom: “WHY DIDN’T YOU DO THAT SOONER?”
Soviet: “A: Digi didn’t tell me to and B: I didn’t think we’d piss them off so quickly.”
Digi: “STOP BICKERING! We are about to be blasted into confetti and our only chance of survival hasn’t been contacted yet because you two WOULD RATHER ARGUE THAN DO YOUR JOBS!”
As Digi was berating his crew, Tom managed to find an open channel being used by Commander Salvador Cyanide. Moments after Digi had finished his rant, the crew had been greeted by a… peculiar vocal exercise.
Cyanide sings: “…take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain.”
Digi angry face freezes and gradually changes to a combination of irritation and confusion as he slowly turns to face the main screen.
Cyanide sings: “She’ll make you live a crazy life, but she’ll take a way your pain. Like a bullet to the braaaaaaaaaaaaain.”
Another blast sends the ship rocking back and forth.
Cyanide sings: “Upside, inside...”
One more blast physically hits the ship and sends Digi flying.
Digi: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”
Cyanide: “Woah, what. What is going on?”
Tom: “We are slowly being blown apart by an angry race incomprehensible aliens that you might be able to speak to.”
Digi: “If you save our lives, we’ll pay you the standard fair for 3 murders.”
Cyanide: “Uuuuummm.”
Soviet: “Plus a free dinner at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”
The motivational power of food is unparalleled in the murder-for-hire trade. Thus, a free buffet meal is akin to writing a blank check.
Cyanide: “PUT ON WITH THOSE MOTHER FUCKERS!!!”
Soviet opens and unmutes all lines of active communication just as a volley of torpedoes are launched straight at the Sloshed Dunderhead.
Cyanide: “ONE MORE ATTACK ON THAT GIANT BEER BOTTLE AND I’LL DISINTEGRATE YOUR ANUSES!!!”
The entire volley is detonated immediately after Cyanide issues his warning.
At this point you may have forgotten about the ZF scouts watching this whole exchange from afar. They are currently flabbergasted at the inclusion of a mercenary group entering the situation. A ridiculously overcomplicated and mostly thought-out military plan has just been compromised at its first stage by a black-market phone book. Any interference in the situation now could tip off the alien race that a military coup was in play. All those aware of the true nature of this mission can only sit by and watch as three idiots fail to die as planned.
Cyanide: “Now that I have your attention, why don’t you tell me who you are, why your you’re shooting these Dunderheads, and what you’re going to do to stop me from dropping bombs onto your ship?”
With a look of confusion and concern on the faces of the still unidentified aliens, their captain speaks.
???: “Bot thairaure no uvathhipth here.”
[translation: “But there are no other ships here.”]
Mere seconds later, a ship larger than the other two appears next to the two of them. The ship appears to be a massive green disc with a mustache shaped structure on the front and 8 massive rocket engines on the rear.
Cyanide: “You were saying, Mr. Bellend?”
Cyanide apparently used his ships jump drive to relocate to the current position of the Sloshed Dunderhead. Clearly the prospect of food and potential violence has motivated him to make a sudden appearance.
Digi: “Don’t insult them!”
Soviet: “We called you hear to translate their language, not call them bellends.”
Cyanide: “Dude! I am not insulting them. That is their name!”
Bewildered, the crew responds to this information as all people would…
Digi, Tom, and Soviet: “WHAT!?!”
…With disbelief.
Cyanide: “Yeah, this is a ship from the Bell Planetary Republic. Their people are called bellends.”
Digi: “…I have to ask…”
Tom and Soviet shoot a dirty look at Tom. They aren’t sure what he is going to say and are resistant to the idea of him saying anything more than he already has.
Digi: “…What language do bellends use?”
Cyanide: “English.”
Digi: “In what universe…”
Collecting his thoughts and trying to stay calm, Digi paused to process this situation. The stress of the situation is clearly getting to him but he is determined not to die from his own mistakes. Not that this has yielded positive results in the past but at least he tries.
Digi: “…Please tell us what they want.”
Bellend Captain: “We wonna know whi thethe idiotthaure here.”
Cyanide: “They want to know why you idiots are here. You didn’t tell them?”
Digi: “It’s not like we could tell what they were asking.”
Cyanide and the Bellend captain literally face palm at the same time.
Soviet: “We came here to make contact and… start peaceful political relations.”
Everyone hearing this out loud realized what a total fuck up this mission really was. The Bellend Captain collapses back into his captain’s chair with his jaw hanging slack in disbelief. Cyanide was already sitting but is reacting the same way. The whole crew of the Sloshed Dunderhead feel embarrassed but a bit relieved that they finally have a way of clearly talking to the bellends.
Cyanide: “Well. What do we do now?”
Bellend Captain: “If ooware hoping fawr peatheful talkth wid arpepol, yu pretty muth bluitt by jutht being yurthelveth.”
Cyanide: “He says “If you were hoping for peaceful talks with our people, you pretty much blew it by just being yourselves.” I can’t really disagree with him.”
Tom looks over the ship’s virtual diagnostic report, looking for any damage the ship took from the ensuing barrage of torpedo explosions it endured. The hull will need repair but is intact, the bathroom toilets are all cracked, and the giant rock Soviet calls Clive is now integral to his room.
Tom: “It appears our ship didn’t receive any major damage.”
Digi: “So we have marginally more time to live.”
Bellend Captain: “Iffat latht vollayadit, yor thhip woodav thplit intoo.”
Cyanide: “He says “If that last volley had hit, your ship would have split in two.” But he seems to forget that hitting your ship would mean I would hit his ship. And my ship hits way harder.”
The Bellend Captain recoils back into his chair slightly. He quietly acknowledges his crewmate that pressed the self-destruct button at just the right time.
Soviet: “Praise Clang, the ship didn’t explode.”
Cyanide: “Excuse you. I’M THE ONE THAT SAVED YOUR ARSES! FUCKING PRAISE, ME!!!”
Bellend Captain: “Hoodufuc ith Clang?”
Cyanide: “He says “Who the fuck is Clang?” He’s the god some dunce fucks pray to when their too stupid to build a ship or fly it without something blowing up.”
Soviet: “I pray the Clang every night to keep from blowing up. And I will continue to praise him for everyday I don’t find myself lying face down in a burning crater.”
Bellend Captain: “We aurda reathon yu willur wunt expode, not Clang!”
Cyanide: “You’re not the only doing that!”
Digi: “What did he say?”
Cyanide: “He says “We are the reason you will or won’t blow up, not Clang!””
Soviet: “DON’T DISRESPECT CLANG!”
Bellend Captain: “Fuk Clang!”
In less than the blink of an eye a flash of light streams through the bellend’s ship, blowing it to pieces. The light continued down to the planet’s surface and scorched a fair portion of it. The center of the Bell Planetary Republic has been destroyed in an instant. The crews of both ships look on, wide eyed, and shocked at what just happened.
Cyanide: “Did anyone else just see a lightning bolt blow up their ship?”
Tom: “Then continue to the planet?”
Digi: “And burn a quarter of the planet when it hit?”
Soviet: “Yes, I think we all did.”
A short pause later…
Cyanide: “I think I am going to convert.”
Digi: “Ya, what does it take to join?”
Tom: “Do they allow pigeons?”
And with that our story comes to its inevitable conclusion. Despite the odds (both in making this fan fiction and in so many ZF clan members not dying in any reality) the crew of the Sloshed Dunderhead live to boldly flee another day. What will become of our heroes? How will the bellends recover from this tragic error? How will the crew get Cyanide his reward? Why was Clive in this story and not Lulu? Questions for another day. For now, just let me know what you think of the story on Deviant Art.
Take care and thank you for the support.
P.S. If you are wondering why Soviet was a woman, it was Digi’s idea.
😊
