Josh woke suddenly, as if to a bad dream...
But it wasn't.
He had woken up to the emergency klaxon blaring. It then made seven short blasts.
That was the signal for an Archangel-scale massacre or crisis.
Josh jumped up and ran to the main room in the huge flagship that had been his home for over two years. Not that two years were a very long time for an Archangel of over 600 earth revolutions. That would be about 21 Altairan revolutions. He stood before the door as it hissed open, and confidently stepped over the threshold of the office that belonged to the commander-in-chief of the Totenkopf, Old Dutch sky-sailor Samuel Jenkins.
"Good to see you, Josh. Where are the rest of your crew?"
"Sir," Josh responded, "Megan's probably running around madly downstairs."
Jenkins blinked. "Right. Anyway, this is the issue. There's a signal that came in on our longwave. Listen." He flipped a switch in the deck and a recording played. To Jenkins, it was a mass of garbled growling noises, but Nick understood perfectly, being an Archangel.
"Foolish little humans of earth and the surrounding planets, this is the High General Kraal of the Shaolk Armada. You are to throw down your defenses and allow me to reap your hearts and consume each and every last one of you or we will enter by force. Do I make myself clear?"
Josh's eyes widened. A transmission from the Shaolk! "Sir, if it isn't too late, I would like to send a response."
"Go ahead."
Josh walked unblinking to the microphone for the longwave broadcaster. "General Kraal of Sh'nal'goen, I have one sentence that sums up my whole response. Muerte a flauni a Mortuamah, Fahl a sherenil." (There is no reason to translate this sentence because once we do it would simply be censored.
But it wasn't.
He had woken up to the emergency klaxon blaring. It then made seven short blasts.
That was the signal for an Archangel-scale massacre or crisis.
Josh jumped up and ran to the main room in the huge flagship that had been his home for over two years. Not that two years were a very long time for an Archangel of over 600 earth revolutions. That would be about 21 Altairan revolutions. He stood before the door as it hissed open, and confidently stepped over the threshold of the office that belonged to the commander-in-chief of the Totenkopf, Old Dutch sky-sailor Samuel Jenkins.
"Good to see you, Josh. Where are the rest of your crew?"
"Sir," Josh responded, "Megan's probably running around madly downstairs."
Jenkins blinked. "Right. Anyway, this is the issue. There's a signal that came in on our longwave. Listen." He flipped a switch in the deck and a recording played. To Jenkins, it was a mass of garbled growling noises, but Nick understood perfectly, being an Archangel.
"Foolish little humans of earth and the surrounding planets, this is the High General Kraal of the Shaolk Armada. You are to throw down your defenses and allow me to reap your hearts and consume each and every last one of you or we will enter by force. Do I make myself clear?"
Josh's eyes widened. A transmission from the Shaolk! "Sir, if it isn't too late, I would like to send a response."
"Go ahead."
Josh walked unblinking to the microphone for the longwave broadcaster. "General Kraal of Sh'nal'goen, I have one sentence that sums up my whole response. Muerte a flauni a Mortuamah, Fahl a sherenil." (There is no reason to translate this sentence because once we do it would simply be censored.
Today was an especially odd day because today was the day that an improbability decided to show up.
That improbability was, today, a mess of brunette hair on the head of a 5'5" female. Purple eyes, a body somewhere in the range of 170 pounds, and tanned caucasian skin this time.
She appeared somewhere in the control room, looking slightly dazed.
"Oh, sorry?" Said the strange female, looking around confused.
That improbability was, today, a mess of brunette hair on the head of a 5'5" female. Purple eyes, a body somewhere in the range of 170 pounds, and tanned caucasian skin this time.
She appeared somewhere in the control room, looking slightly dazed.
"Oh, sorry?" Said the strange female, looking around confused.
Josh whirled around and prepared a light blue ball of fiery death to throw at the mysterious woman who had just appeared in the Captain's office of the Totenkopf.
"JAR EM JA? Oh, wait, you don't speak Archaien, do you? Never mind that, WHO ARE YOU?"
"JAR EM JA? Oh, wait, you don't speak Archaien, do you? Never mind that, WHO ARE YOU?"
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