Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXV: "Three Million Cocks and so Little Time" or "Fettid Display of Love!"

"Oh Good Christ Yes! Give it To Me! AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Karrie Travesty" screamed in ecstacy as she rubbed her clit with the vigor of a team of midgets attempting to pull an elephant uphill. Struggling for orgasm with one hand as the other penned the latest volume of her Mandalorian dictionary. The tendency to add "A" and "Ah" to the ends of each word linked to the fact that she masturbated and moaned often while composing her literary works.

"Oooooooooohhhh yes, that's it, lick those wrinkles, touch me where it sags funny! Mmmmmmmmmmmm!"

More often than not, she would indulge in her deepest and darkest fantasy. As she lay spread eagle on a table, she would be gangbanged by all three million clones in the Grand Army of the Republic, no more, no less. And as each Mando'a stud filled her with ther identical genetic material, spreading it liberally acoss her face, chest, and buttocks in between each protein infusion. Today would be no different, save for the unusual difficulty she was having in acheiving orgasm.

Normally all she had to do to get wet was "open her inbox" and read the praise of her adoring fans, bolstered by their resolve and confident that they would keep the dreaded Talifans at bay she could then relax enough to be dirty with herself.

"More than three million clones? Preposterous, besides I could never handle that much cock in one day. Even if they were the tiny and easily manipulated cocks like my core readership." She had said privately one day in a moment of weakness to her closest confidant. Dark Moose had at first seemed hurt by this comment, but Karrie reassured him by saying that he definitely was not easily manipulated, and that a smart moderator such as him did not need to be manipulated to see that all Talifans were misogynist assholes that required amateur tracheotomies.

She pulled her fingers out from within her support hose and with a sigh blew the dust off of her fingertips. Today's difficulty was part of a rather disturbing trend. The past few days had been as sexually frustrating as her teenage years had been, the byproduct of being born half hobgoblin and a result so ugly that you couldn't even get molested if you were left unattended at Neverland Ranch dressed as a young boy.

That frustration, which lasted into her thirties, had only been relieved with the help of a young Lance Bass and $500 cash. Although the experience had saved Karrie from the manic-depressive state she had been in, the experience traumatized the aspiring singer, and he privately swore never to touch another woman again.

There was no denying the hunger, she needed to get laid, for real. But this time a fair haired and soft eyed boywhore wasn't going to satisfy her. After her work on the Republic Commando series she knew that she needed a real man, with real strength and a cast iron stomach. She needed a Man...dalorian, but they didn't exist. Heaving a massive sigh, she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, and wept hrself to sleep. Blaming it on Talifans the entire way, she fell to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

"Wake up Karr'ika. Your Mando'a is here."

Her eyes opened, if she was dreaming she couldn't tell. Her entire world seemed hazy, as if she had gone without sleep for days and suddenly realized it all at once, or as if she had once again made the mistake of mixing her regular dose of bovine laxatives with grain alcohol.

"Who...who are you?"

And as her eyes shifted back into focus she realized that she was not dreaming, it felt too real. Here she was lying in bed, with a silk sheet draped over her dry cracked skin and liver spotted form, with Jango Fett cradling her in his arms. He kissed her softly and she moaned, a slow trickle of wetness overcoming the dust that had accumulated along her labia. He reached down to her waist and slowly but smoothly grabbed her breast, bringing back up to her chest and taking her leathery nipple into his mouth.

"Jango, is it really you?" She cooed.

"Hush my pet, let us savor the moment in blissful silence." spoke the bounty hunter as he lay her down and began making love to her.

As her legs dvivided and her joints cracked the smell of various ointments filled Jangos nose, but his warrior pose allowed him to block the foul stench and maintain his erection. He urgently, but not eagerly, plunged his manhood inside of her. Before long he had switched positions several times, until finally she was being spooned from behind, her asshole being plowed and stretched at a pace that could best be described as tenacious. She begged and begged Jango to come inside of her, but he refused everytime.

"But why? HAve I not done everything you have asked! I've made you the most popular Star Wars character ever! I'll do anything, just please fill my asshole with your Mandosperm!"

Jango paused for a moment to consider and whispered in his ear.

"Only if you knock off the three million clones bullshit."

She stopped grinding against him, stunned and aghast that her sexual idol could possibly be displease with her work. After all, it was done for him, 500 to one kill rations were not impossible if the one was the clone template of the hunkiest guy in Star Wars history, of which she was the supreme decision maker.

"But..But.."

"I'm not asking you to stop you embarassing worship of Mandalorians, just stop pushing the logistical bullshit and admit that the number junkies are right and I promise to fill your dilapidated anus with a few million Spermdalorians that will trickle down your leg after I pull out."

Her resolve wavered, and finally, she gave in. The prospect of swabbing sperm from her leg and inserting it inside of her so that she herself could become a Kaminoan cloning tank was far too tempting to pass up.

"Yes! Anything! I swear!"

Knowing from the clench of her asscheeks that she was telling the truth Jango obliged. The spent couple broke the embrace just long enough for Jango to inject a heavy sedative into his lover's neck. There would be no pillow talk today. Gathering his clothes he sprinted out of the house and into the door of a waiting limosuine, which slowly cruised away leaving the Travesty Estate behind.

Temuera Morrison grabbed a motion sickness bag he had been saving for the occaision and used it, filling it beyond what its original designers had intended before throwing it out the window and knocking a small child from her tricycle.

"For the love of god! You never said anything about this!" He yelled to his fellow passenger, a man sitting within the shadows of the enclosed limo and its tinted windows.

"You knew the risks when you took this job."

"Even so I know I threw up in my mouth a little when she peeled off her shirt. All things considered though your organization should not have anymore problems with her again.

"Excellent, you shall be richly compensated for your *snicker* hard work."

"I had better be, It took enough Viagra to maintain this erection to keep Bob Dole happy for a year. I swear this bitch is a walking cure for priapisms. "

The shadowly figure handed the actor turned gigolo a briefcase, Temuera Morrison opened it to find it full of hundred dollar bills.

"This is, quite generous." he remarked.

"I would agree with that, however, there is a small price." And with that the shadowy figure held up a video tape. "So long as the circumstances of this arrangement stay quiet, this tape never sees the light of day."

Temuera knew he had been duped, and that if a tape of him tapping the nastiest piece of ass outside of the Bangkok Flea MArket ever got out it would destroy his career. "You son of a bitch."

The Shadowy figure smiled and laughed. "I give you credit, you're the smartest actor I've ever had to work with!"

"I'd tell you that you're the shiftiest businessman i've ever worked with. But I don't even know your name Mr....."

"Now now," the man waved his finger disapprovingly. "my real name is of no consequence. Suffice it to say you can call me Mr. Poe."

[Ace Pace]

UPF...FUCK YEAH

BOOZE AND HOOKERS... FUCK YEAH

FELONIES... FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN... FUCK YEAH

God, that rocked.

[Fleet Admiral JD]

. . . damn, dude. Gross. Yet still somehow incredibly awesome!

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF EPISODE -1 (NEGATIVE ONE): THE ORIGIN OF FANBOY

Author's Note: This is from what I had intended to be a UPF Origin Chapter turned ST Fanfic that has once again turned into an orgin pic, after reviewing some old suggestions I rewrote parts of it and added in a little XXX. After all this is the unnamed PORNO fanfic. There is definitely sexual content in this edition, also the beginning of yet ANOTHER plot thread. Although prequel plot threads only effect the Assembled Dalton Army located at the Center of the Fanfic Galaxy (tm). Thanks and enjoy, and Mark S, if the one character STILL seems too much like RIddick after this, I'll fix it in the next edition.

Shep will continue the main UPF storyline whenever he feels like it, never rush a genius, even a demented one with a penchant for holocaust.

Without further Ado, the origins of the Fanboy character, further explained!

~DF



[Exmodeus III, 2374 AD]

As the Dominion's war of conquest took its toll on the galaxy, the battle lines would make for unusual allies. The highly competitive and significant powers of the Alpha Quadrant found themselves united under a common banner. The United Federation of Planets and Klingon Empire were joined in the human year 2374 with the Romulan Star Empire. A Triple Alliance unlike anything the Alpha Quadrant had ever seen before, one that had the unprecedented ability to be able to wage war with the once unbeatable Dominion.

The Romulans' brought more to the battle than their weapons and soldiers, they brought with them a willingness to engage in warfare the Federation was incapable of and Klingons were unsuited for. One of the Romulans' pet projects, the cloned human Shinzon, had become known as a master of warfare. The subjugated Reman population also made for excellent, and disposable warriors. Last, but cetainly not least, the horde of mercenaries hired by the Romulan Treasury. While it was the bright green Romulan ships and the silver-clad Romulan soldiers that made the news broadcasts, the greatest successes achieved by the forces of the Alpha Quadrant were quite possibly done so by the "Army of the Shadows", the slang name given to the little known fleet of the Romulan Star Empire, the largest collection of Non Romulan forces in the history of the Romulan Star Empire. While the bulk of the fleet was made up of Remans, conscripts of subject races throughout the Star Empire fought and died in their roles as disposable soldiers.

While Starfleet intelligence became aware of the role Remans played in the conflict they were unable to discern much at all about the mercenaries used by the Romulans, but it is known than on the planet Exmodeus III, Romulan-hired mercenaries delivered a crippling blow to the Dominion that made the eventual victory for the Triple Alliance possible. Here now is the story of one of those mercs.

[PWB Kaleh, unknown location within Romulan space]


"And you are certain General Varel, that this intelligence is to be believed?"

"With all due respect Chairman Koval,even though they are notoriously tough to interrogate, Cardassians have little love for the Jem'Hadar"

"If what you are saying is true then we will have to act fast. I'm going to assign you every Xenoflotilla we have to spare, and the funds to recruit more."

"Sir I would prefer real soldiers, Romulan soldiers. Not a bunch of conscripts and mongrels from the fringes of the Empire."

"Let me ask you this General. How many ships would you require? How many soldiers?"

"For this task, a minimum for fifty capital ships, at least one million soldiers..."

"And where do you think that we could draw these assets from General? Even if we sought and achieved backing from the Praetor himself there is no way we could divert that many soldiers from the front lines without alerting the Federation or the Klingons to what we are doing. This isn't Sela's absurd Vulcan campaign, we're talking about a Dominion stronghold. This has to stay in our control and for that very reason we will have to use our more...disposable...assets."

"I must protest this..."

"Relax General, Not only am I placing you in direct command of all of the forces in that area, but you will be assigned the Army of Shadows."

"Shinzon's fleet?"

"I trust that alleviates some of your concerns? I know full well of your distaste for non-Romulans, especially Remans. But I also know of your admiration for Shinzon's combat record. The Shadows will serve you well."

"Yes Chairman, I hear and obey. Varel out."

General Varel stood from his console aboard the RSIS Kaleh, for the last two weeks he had been gathering intelligence based on Chairman Koval's orders and unknown sources. while the first leg of the mission had been less than exhilirating the discoveries made a few days ago by his men were of such severe implications that it could render every other operation being waged against the Dominion irrelevant.

After the Federation managed to mine the wormhole separating them from the Gamma Quadrant the Dominion forces were isolated from the rest of their forces in the Gamma Quadrant. This turn of events was significant to more than just the participants in the Dominion War, but the observers as well. Including one notable and powerful absentee, the Borg Collective.

For many years the Borg had been trying to properly assimilate the distinctiveness of the Dominion, arguably the most powerful faction they had ever faced with many species each possessing unique characteristics. The Dominion cloning technology combined with Borg assimilation would have produced unstoppable drones, what few Jem'Hadar the borg ever managed to assimilate however soon died without a supply of Ketracel White, an organic weakness the Borg had failed on a couple of occaisions to overcome. More frustrating still to the Borg, their attempt to assimilate a founder utterly failed when the changeling assumed its liquid state and escaped the planet it was being held on.

When the Dominion began defeating the Federation in ways the Borg had never been able to accomplish, they took further note. When a portion of their strength became isolated in the Alpha Quadrant the Borg took action. The Borg had never conquered much of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, but they did enjoy many advantages in that area. Now a small portion of the Dominion was isolated in Cardassian Territory. A species that the Borg had easily defeated before, but a species that offered little in exchange for the cost of a war. Now the opportunity had presented itself though, and the Collective decided that an attack was necessary.

But the Borg once again underestimated their opponents, Dominion forces routed the pair of cubes deployed on an attempted ambush of a Cardassian shipyard. But the installation was already on high alert due to anticpated attacks from Alliance Fleets. The battle resulted in atrocious casualties for the Dominion but they managed to defend the expensive skeletal structures for their new battleships. The Borg cube lost control and crashed on a nearby planet, Exmodeus III. On Exmodeus, the Dominion set up a makeshift research facility. What they discovered was a largely intact example of Borg Transwarp technology. This technology, if developed for use by the Dominion, would allow them to bypass the wormhole as a way of travelling between quadrants, and would enable thousands of Dominion ships to invade the other side of the galaxy.

Somehow the Tal Shiar Chairman Koval had learend of the battle between the Borg and the Dominion, and the location of the lab. Koval had in turned ordered Tal Shiar General Varel to investigate the area. Varel had done so and succeeded. Now it was up to him to prevent the Dominion from making any breaktrhoughs, and to acquire the technology being developed for the Romulan Empire.

Many light years away on Romulus, Koval finished encrypting several documents and attachments before sneding them through subspace to his contacts within the Federation. Section 31 had installed him into his position, Section 31 had informed him of the Dominion and Borg battle. Even as the Dominion invaded Federation worlds and pushed closer to Earth the higher ups at Starfleet were still paranoid over the Borg. After the infamous battle of Wolf 359 who could blame them. Even on Romulus there was a sympathy for the fallen soldiers of that battle. In return for the use of the Army of Shadows, Section 31 had agreed that the Romulans would be allowed to share in the technological motherlode this would provide. There were no other fleets availiable to do the job. Koval leaned back in his chair and pondered, wondering what sort of soldiers he would be sending into battle...

[Romulan Recruitment Locus, Unroth System]

The desk of Centurion Hivar had been a busy place lately. As the war began taking its toll on the regular units, the recruting offices had been hard pressed to get as many soldiers into the fight. Citizens had been lining up for the chance to serve with the regular military but another of Hivar's responsibilites was the hiring of well trained mercenaries. To get them to enlist in ground units if possible, to pay for their services as autonomous commandos was another.

Today's group of mercenaries had been disappointing, many of them two bit theives looking for a way to scam the government and even a couple of felons looking to secure amnesty for previous crimes. The next applicant himself had several standing warrants on Romulus for smuggling, arms trafficking, and murder. But in these trying times Hivar had been instructed personally by the Tal Shiar that anyone could be an asset, and he had to at least review each applicant. He signaled for the next applicant to enter his office from the waiting room, while he expected a tough appearing individual the man he saw walk through the door was a human of such an obscene size that it would make a Klingon wince. As the man slowly sidestepped so that his size and his weapons could fit through the door, he looked over at the Romulan officer. Hivar looked up and gulped loudly, on this mans belt already were at least fifty tubes of Ketracel white. Taken from Jem Hadar he had killed, many allied soldiers had begun that practice at the onset of the war and a lot of commanders had approved of it because it did have morale boosting effects among those who believed Jem'Hadar invincible. To see a freelance mercenary with this many tubes though was both impressive and disturbing.

"And how may I help you mister, uhmmmmm...." Hivar fumbled with his papers as he struggled to maintain his compsure. In a low almost bloodthirsty voice, the man spoke.

"My callsign is Fanboy."

"So, Mr. Fanboy...."

"Just Fanboy."

"Right. Regardless of your chosen title I must inform you that the Romulan Star Empire is incredibly hesitant to associate itself with known felons. Especially when said felons have been convicted of murdering Romulan police officers."

Hivar lied through his teeth, on that one, The Romulans hired only the most bloodthirsty fighters regardless of their criminal history. Fanboy simply drew a grenade from his belt and began fidgeting with it, pulling the pin and re-inserting it carefully. Hivar's eyes were fixed to the explosive device. 20th and 21st century human weaponry was familiar amongst all major spacefaring forces as some of the most brutal methods of killing the galaxy had ever seen. Many fringe colony humans with violent personalities and access to replicators tended to own many of these weapons. Unhindered by the pacification drugs in federation foodstuffs, these humans exhibited mankind's darkside.

"I think that my skills would certainly make up for that." Fanboy calmly said as he replaced the pin in the grenade for a final time before setting it down on Hivar's desk. Hivar breathed a short sigh of relief and continued his questioning.

"Im sure they would, but tell me. What makes you think the Romulan Empire is even interested in hiring the services of someone such as yourself? I hear the Federation and the Klingons are both looking for more men."

Fanboy calmly drew a knife from his belt and began caressing the blade with his fingers. "Don't targshit me, anyone in this line of work knows the Klingons don't hire my kind, and the Federation pays about as well as an old lady looking for someone to mow her lawn. You guys have been paying top latinum for some time now leading up to this shit and I want in."

"While your reasoning is sound, even if I wanted to hire you that is impossible unless you have some way of proving your qualifications."

Fanboy holstered the knife and pulled a PADD with several files loaded onto it. "What the hell is this?" Exclaimed Hilvar.

"Just the names of a couple Senators who've been trying to get in touch with the Dominion. Apparently there are a few people in your government who don't have as much faith in the war effort as you do."

"And this data proves it?"

"I'd bet my knife on it."

Hilvar pondered the material. This guy was smart, he could have just turned the material in to the authorities and claimed a small reward. But he was handing Hilvar the means to an opportunity, exposing seditious government officials was the fast track to promotion and a far better assignment.

"Very well then, I shall see to it that this gets to the right people. In the meantime let's discuss the terms of your employment. Do you posess any special skills that could be of use to us? Aside from your apparent ability to kill Jem'Hadar?" Hilvar made a nod in the direction of the Ketracel White belt.

"Destroying the enemy is what I do, you want me to do anything else it costs extra."

Hilvar cosnidered the man for a moment and acqueisced. HE pulled a datapad and began entering the necessary information and transferring clearance codes from his own desk terminal.

"Then make your way to the following coordinates. You'll be directed from there towards the front.

"I have a request for my assignment." Fanboy quit fidgeting and locked his gaze onto Hilvar.

"Well we are quite limited in what requests we can offer, the High Command assigns operatives to targets where the are needed. We cannot publish a catalog and let bounty hunters sign up for whatever job they feel like."

"That's not what I mean. I want to be assigned to the 5th Xenobattalion."

"For what reason?" Hilvar was a little startled, freelancers usually tried to avoid the 5th, Admiral Shinzon was incredibly harsh and unforgiving on the non-Reman soldiers under his command.

"That's where the money is. You've been using those ugly Reman fuckers as cannon fodder for so long it's obvious thats where the real fighting's at."

Hilvar smirked, unable to disagree. "Very well then, if you would care to wait in the observation lounge I will have orders drafted immediately."

Several hours later, Fanboy was on his way to the spaceport, with all of the clearance he needed to link up with his assigned fleet. A high pitched whistle cut through the air.

Unmistakable even after all these years...

Fanboy turned to see a petite human female with deep purple hair sitting atop of a modified Raider-class ship, laughing and pointing at him as if he were wearing the most ridiculous costume ever.

"So did they buy the tough guy act? Or did you have to beg the Centurion to let you join his kickball team?" The woman yelled.

Fanboy shrugged it off and laughed, "Hard-dee har har, i'll have you know that he fell for the same trick you did when we first met if it makes you feel any better." Fanboy reached to his belt and tossed the grenade he had been toying with up to her.

"You mean you used this fake? I guess the Rommies are dumber than I give them credit for." She tossed the fake grenade back to Fanboy, and hopped down off of her ship and walked towards him. Swaying her hips in her skin tight flightsuit, zipper halfway down her chest with a baggy flight jacket and utility belt carrying her personal equipment.

"It's been three years. Thought i'd never see you again." Fanboy said grimly.

"That's funny," She said while her finger gently stroked his chest. "I thought I told you that we'd meet again one day."

"Listen, I'd love to stay and talk but I need to go book a transport before I lose my window of opportunity here."

"Let me guess, Fifth Xenobatallion? Heading out tomorrow to go toe to toe with the Dominion's nastiest bastards this side of the wormhole?"

"Yeah," Fanboy said with a puzzled expression, "how did you..."

She giggled and grabbed his hand. "Looks like we're going to the same dance. Don't you have your own ship?"

Fanboy smirked, "Nothing that would pass any inspections in this part of space, not to mention the outstanding warrants."

"Then it's settled, you're hitching a ride with me, while we're on the way we can catch up."

Fanboy wrestled with the idea for a moment, but his stinginess won out over the bad feeling in his gut and he agreed. This particular woman was nothing but trouble, but then again, estranged wives were bad news in almost every culture. She walked back to her ship, beckoning him with a glance as she turned back.

"At least the sex will be amazing..." Fanboy said under his breath as he resigned himself to his fate.

[Several Hours Later, about the privately owned ship Stellar Nymphet]

"Ohhhhh fuck!" screamed Fangirl as she arched her back into the air, cradling her breasts in each hand while pressing her fingers against them deeply.

Formerly a stripper on the Federation outskirts known as Synammon Whip, she had taken the pseudonym Fangirl after marrying one of her more interested clients suggested she could make a "fuckton more money" by killing sleazy rich folks instead of dancing for them. The marriage/partnership had lasted for had lasted for two years before a legendary tiff over some misplaced funds caused a "Mr and Mrs Smith" style battle that raged throughout the NEw Berlin colony, leavign fifteen dead and scores wounded.

But all that seemed to be in the past as Fanboy's tounge slid inside of her, wrapping itself around her clit and bringing it into his mouth. He toyed with her for a while, sucking on her clit while kneading the flesh of her inner thigh before resuming a series of slow and steady licks. A gasp escaped her lips again, and he quickened the pace of his tongue, flicking it lightly yet rapidly, letting the tip pleasure her with reckless abandon.

Fangirl threw her head back, and pinched at her nipples as hard as she could, grinding her pelvis further into his face. She nearly lost control of her senses when he began pushing his tongue up against her, using a rubbing motion that was driving her wild.

They had put the ship on auto pilot for the longer stretch of the journey, and she had reluctantly offered him a sample of some locally produced Romulan ale. It hadn't taken long for the potent beverage to strip both of them of their inhibitions (not to mention their clothes), releasing pent up sexual desires over three years in the making. Fortunately for her she had a twin sized bed installed in the cargo hold months ago.

Three years it had been since she had been with a man. Her brief flirtations within the Principality of Zeon always entertaining but never satisfying. Zeon had been one of the few nations that managed to keep out of the war entirely thanks to its location, which was good for the Principality but not for an exotic dancer turned killer-for-hire that needed income to fund her crushing gambling addictions and nymphomania. That particular combination of vices had one small advantage. She had bet him a hundred bars of latinum that he couldn't make her come using only his tongue and hands, and even though she was losing the wager, she was winning in her own way.

"That's right lover that's.....oh god, I'm gonna come, don't stop..."

Encouraged by her moaning, Fanboy began suckling her clit harder, intermittently flicking his tounge and revelling in the warmth of her sex. It had been too long, and there were many lost times to be made up for. He moaned her name into her, and the added vibration was enough to send her over the edge. She came with a loud moan that reverberated throughout the ship and her come poured over her lover's face. He lapped it up hungrily, the faint scent and taste of peaches filling his mind with old memories.

Fangirl collapsed and released her grip on her breasts, allowing them to spill back out and across her chest, her small pink nipples erect with excitement and pointing upwards. Fanboy rose from, sitting on his knees between her legs with a massive erection pointing in her direction and an ear to ear grin on his face. After a few moments of blissful silence he regained his sense of playfulness.

"So where's that hundred bars of latinum?"

She half smiled, the room was still spinning and she was quite hot, plus she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"Aw sweetie, you of all people should know that I couldn't save a hundred bars of latinum up at once even if my life depended on it."

Most of the time, when you screwed a hardened merc out of a wager, you ended up worse for wear. However, this was not one of those times.

"Considering the...unique...circumstances of our relationship, I guess we will have to work out an alternate form of payment?" He said, with his grin widening and his stare narrowing. Fangirl responded by licking her lips, assured by the same wolf like smile that had seduced her five years ago.

"That would be wonderful love," she whispered as she twirled around on the bed, her soft lips moving towards his cock and her eyes gazing at it hungrily and intently.


[The Next Day, Romulan Space Station Lagga, Edge of Dominion/Romulan Border]

The Lagga had been one installation in a series designed to counter the Dominion after their anticipated victory over the Federation. However as the Dominion began siezing planets by force and it became clear the Dominion wasn't planning on ending its conquest with Starfleet, they became the first line of defense against the Dominion against its' newly acquired holdings in Federation Space.

With enough defensive armament and enough of the new Scorpion-Class defense fighters to make even the largest Jem'Hadar Task Force think twice. About twenty of these installations were installed along the Imperial border regions. However these impressive fortifications left the Romulan Star Navy critically short of soldiers. Hence the formation of the Romulan Armed Xenoforces.

The Romulan Star Empire was not as homogenous as the Senate would have liked. There was a small multitude of weak nations which paid tribute to or were under occupation by the Romulans. These lesser nations donated both trained soldiers and conscripts, munitions, and money to the war effort. Despite the "generosity" that came with these gifts, the Romulan soldiers did not care to associate with their alien counterparts. Also, lower ranking Romulan soldiers would not serve an alien commander. Even one as brilliant as Shinzon, the end result of the Tal Shiar's attempt to clone Jean Luc Picard.

The Romulans organized their alien forces, including hundreds of thousands of Reman foot soldiers, and sent them ahead of the Romulan regulars. At first a mere method of softening up enemy strongholds, the Xenoflotillas and Xenobrigades soon began winning engagements on their own. The Romulan High Command kept giving them the most dangerous assignments and while many died the alien forces kept winning. Eventually their numbers were withered down enough and the entire force was reorganized into one flotilla, commanded by Shinzon. The survivors of these bloody engagements, augmented by legions of the most wicked mercenaries availiable, formed the core of Shinzon's reorganized 5th Xenoflotilla, also known as the "Army of Shadows". Named for their effective cloak-based tactics, and for the secrecy of their assignments, Shinzon's forces routed the Dominion at every turn. This combination of disposability and effectiveness made the Shadows the perfect fighting force to attack the Dominion controlled Exmodeus star system.

Exmodeus was an unimportant yellow star for billions of years until the Dominion War. The third planet in the system was a habitable world. But it was mineral poor and lacked edible vegetation. It was not close enough to the Romulan Neutral Zone for the Federation to consider it strategic, and when the Dominion arrived they were able to claim the system with absolutely no resistance. With the non agrression pact in place between the Dominion and Romulans, Exmodeus had initially been an excellent place to install a shipyard that would provide new ships to the front yet remain secure from Federation reprisals. The Borg had attacked and through either poor intelligence or sheer arrogance sent only two cubes to attack the new facilities, the Dominion Forces ravaged the Cubes, destroying one and forcing a second one to crash on the planet. Jem Hadar soldiers massacred the Borg in ground combat, taking the wreckage for their own.

Now certain elements of the Romulan military realized that there was more at stake in this war, a great prize that could potentially allow the Romulan Star Empire to fulfill the same goals that the Dominion forces were now pursuing.

[Romulan Space Station Lagga, Bridge of the Flagship Scythe]

"Vkruk, I tire of all of this waiting around. Have the remaining troops been loaded aboard the transports?"

Shinzon's voice cut through the air with frustration evident in his tone. Shinzon's right hand, the Reman telepath Colonel Vkruk, checked the small display at his console, and nodded stiffly.

"Admiral, we are ready to launch. Mercenary and conscripted forces have been loaded."

Shinzon took his chair and grinned. Then send the message to all ships, prepare for our departure in one hour. As soon as we arrive in the Exmodeus system we will be engagin the Dominion at Exmodeus VIII to establish our beachhead. Make it clear to the troop transports that our entire ground force will be landing on that planet and not one will be leaving until that rock is ours."

[Ace Pace]

UPF...FUCK YEAH

BOOZE AND HOOKERS... FUCK YEAH

FELONIES... FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN... FUCK YEAH


And that reminds me, fanboy, get to writing erotica by itself.

[Sidewinder]

Does Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, or MKSheppard have any plans for Harry Kim? (I'm currently writing a fanfic of UPF, featuring the invisible ensign. He's alive and well... as long as you overlook the fact that he has enough bullet holes on his chest to make you mistake it for a slice of Swiss cheese. Oh, well, chicks dig scars, so he should be getting some action, right?)

[Darth Fanboy]

Nothing as far as I know, as if it matters anyway what with our powers of Infalliable Retcon (tm), Timeline Diversion and Multiple Universe Inclusion (tm), and Starcrossed (tm)(as per terms of hostile acquisition from previous UPF Interlude).

[Darth Fanboy]

I think the title of the second part sums up the action. Part the Third will be on its way shortly.

UPF: EPISODE -1 PART THE SECOND, "CLUSTERFUCK."

[Cargo hold of the Romulan Troopship En'zel]

"YOu've got a lot of nerve for a human, even for an oversized little ape such as yourself!"

The hulking Chalnoth warrior had been pestering Fanboy and Fangirl ever since they had boarded the ship together and assigned space. Fanboy had not helped the situation out much when he made a remark about the CHalnoth's distinct feces-like odor that had left almost everyone in earshot, including members of the Chalnoth's own entourage, howling with laughter.

"Blow it out your snout!" Fangirl had interjected, her own frustration at the Chalnoths overbearing demeanor and stench boiling over.

"Do you humans always let your women fight your battles?" He huffed, "Let me show you how we deal with female arrogance on Chalna!"

The overconfident Chalnoth raised his gauntleted fist into the air and brought it down so hard that it would have turned Fangirl's skull into a disgusting mush. She managed to move out of the way in time to see Fanboy move right into place where she was standing and catch the Chalnoth's hand in mid air, his right arm shaking from the momentum but stopping the fist in the air. Before his adversary could react, he leaned in forward and delivered a massive headbutt that shattered the nose and exposed fangs of the Chalnoth. He then used his left hand to retrieve a sharp instrument from his belt, which he then jabbed in the Chalnoth's vulnerable and unprotected forehead. Fanboy pushed the staggered alien to the ground and pulled a Mark XXVII Desert Eagle, crafted in the late 21st century, aiming it precisely. A crowd began to form around the two combatants and began to cheer and applaud the violence.

"What you have there sticking out of your forehead is a Lurian Razorspike. If you try and pull it out without a properly trained neurosurgeon you're going to pull out your own fucking brains, tiny as they may be. What I have here in my hand is the last model of fifty caliber handgun ever manufactured on my home planet. DO you know what fifty caliber means?"

THe Chalnoth nodded that he didn't, but the nervous expression on his face meant that he wasn't going to risk finding out.

"It means that even though you're wearing some pretty fancy armor there I could still shoot a hole in you big enough to disembark through when this ship finally gets where we're going. You'd better get moving, because you've got less than a few hours before that spike kills you, and i'm not about to go having the Romulans on my ass for killing another merc." When the Chalnoth simply lay there unmoving with anxiety Fanboy fired a blast up into the air that thundered through the area, causing many in the crowd to duck, fearing a ricochet.

"GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GET MOVING YOU DUMB FUCKER!"

The Chalnoth slowly made it to his feet and began to stagger out of the hold, desperately seeking the ship's sickbay. Only twenty minutes into a two day trip and the tension was already building up to dangerous levels. The Romulan security guards, only now being alerted to the disturbance, had begun cutting back access to the ship and many of them began wondering outright whether or not they would be able to keep the peace.

Fangirl immediately reclaimed her place next to Fanboy and slid herself under his arm, cooing at him. "You were wonderful, just like old times!"

Fanboy looked down at her and nodded, trying to keep the hurt out of his expression and only marginally succeeding. She noticed almost immediately, rising up on her toes and kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"Forget about it," Fanboy said. Replacing his dour expression with a cocky grin. "You still play Tongo? I hear theres a a bunch of Nausicaans that have a game going on in the mess."

Fangirl's eyes narrowed and her lips curled upwards in a predatory and feline motion. "I carry a deck wherever I go, but first Chalnoth and now Nausicaans? What's next, you going to wrestle a Mugato?"

Fanboy laughed, "You think they have one of those on here? I was thinking of playing roshambo with one of those big blue ugly bastards over there, at least then all i'd have to do is aim for the knee. I saw one of 'em kneeling over the toilet seat earlier."

"Thanks but no thanks for the mental image." Fangirl said, desperately wishing to change the subject.

"You want to know how they shit?" Fanboy asked, prodding his elbow into Fangirl's side.

"I'd rather go play cards with a bunch of Nausicaans. Speaking of which, I think we should go find them before they all shoot each other, how else are we going to win their share of the bounty on the return trip."

"Yeah," Fanboy said grimly. "If the Romulans are even planning a return trip for us. I don't trust that douchebag Shinzon one bit."

"Why not? It's not like he's Romulan, he is human after all." Fangirl said while reapplying some lipstick in preparation for her eventual swindling of dim witted gamblers. Fanboy checked his handgun to make sure it was loaded, it was, before finishing his thought.

"That's what I'm afraid of."


[The War Room of the Command Ship, Scythe]


The meeting began as soon as Shinzon had COlonel Vkruk confirm that the room was secured and that none of the Romulan security guards or political officers seeded aboard the ships save for those loyal to Shinzon were accounted for and isolated from the briefing.


"This, as you know, is the first target of our Exmodeus campaign. Exmodeus VIII has none of the scientific facilities and technological objectives we have been assigned. However, this planet has a Jem'Hadar garrison as well as the cloning facilities for all of the Vorta in this sector."

Shinzon paced in front of the display screen, delivering his message to his Reman subordinates. "We expect there to be few Jem'Hadar guarding the facility, since it is supposed to be top secret. However we do expect them to wage a bitter defense, they will destroy the facility if they have to but they will do everything they can to defend the facility before that.

Shinzon turned towards the table and slammed both of his hands down onto it.

"We have a secondary objective to this mission that the Romulans are not privy too. I want that cloning facility." His words were spoken with a meticulous slowness to them that were just as effective as writing them on the wall with blood. "If we can secure that, then perhaps we'll be able to accelerate Project Nemesis to fruition much sooner."

"Then why not now Admiral?" One of the Reman commanders spoke up. "We have several functioning Nemesis weapons with us already, we could be done with the ROmulans while they are distracted and take back what is rightfully ours!"

Shinzon walked over to the commander and struck him across the face, a typical Reman expression of dissatisfaction, but he hadn't served in the dilithium mines alongside of the man for so many years only to treat him like a dog on the eve of a great battle. "Patience my brother," his demeanor softening almost instantly. "If we were to move now then we would be vulnerable from multiple fronts, there is no way that the Klingons, federation, and the DOminion would ignore us if we were to suddenly remove ourselves from the fight, and we all already know that siding with the Dominion would simply replace our current overseers with masters that will be even more difficult to kill."

Shinzon walked back towars the front of the room and smiled.

"Make no mistake about it. General Kavel and Chairman Koval went out of their way to send us on this mission, because we are at the same time the greatest, and also the most disposable soldiers in the entire military. But their underestimation of our endurance and their overestimation of our loyalty will be their undoing. I promise you."

Vkruk nodded in the corner his consent, and subtley began empathically projecting the same feelings into the other commanders. Vkruk was absolutely loyal to the man that he believed would one day guide his people to greatness, and it was his job to make sure that the other high ranking Remans felt the same way.

"If there are no further interruptions, this is how our first attack will proceed. Because of the undoubtedly tenacious defense and the near certainty of lethal traps scattered throughout the area we will be deploying our mercenary forces first, before sending in Reman Infantry..."


[Exmodeus III, Wreckage Technical Station]


"First Koma'aka, I demand an explanation! The first time only a few Jem'HAdar had gone missing, now one of our Cardassian technicians. What will happen next I wonder? Perhaps one of the Vorta Supervisors?"

Dizel IV, the Vorta leader of the entire Exmodeus Operation, was furious at the latest disaster to befall the Cube TEchnical Survey. OVer the course of the past three days, dozens of Jem Hadar and now a Cardassian technician had gone missing deep within the catacombs of the partially buried ship.

"No explanation can be given, for the guards assigned to the Cardassian are missing as well, and no record of them exiting the Cube site can be given." Koma'aka did his best to temper his hatred for the Vorta, a hatred that was rapidly spreading through the Jem'Hadar ranks across the Alpha Quadrant. Although the Vorta claimed it was due to their inferior and less sophisticated Alpha Quadrant upbringing, the divide between the Founder's bureaucratic emissaries and their most loyal soldiers had been running deep ever since before the Dominion had crossed into the Alpha Quadrant.

"Your excuses do not concern me. I have personally contacted by the Founder on Cardassia Prime and we have been ordered to accelarate the timetable for this project as fast as we can. If you can't provide the technicians with the security they require, then perhaps I'll have to send for a new contingent of Jem'Hadar. I hear there's a handful of Gamma Quadrant bred brigades that are being rotated off of duty on Cardassia, perhaps I should request that they be sent here?"

Koma'aka gritted his teeth. Baiting their Jem'Hadar subordinates seemed to be the Vorta's favorite pasttime. Especial the fourth incarnation of Dizel. "It will not be necessary. My Unit and the others on this planet will be more than enough to secure the cube."

Dizel looked away from the Jem HAdar dismissively, as if to demean him by ignoring him. "Then I suggest that you send more of your soldiers down there, and see to it that anything that might be still down there is taken care of.

The Jem'Hadar First turned and marched out of the room, eager to vent his frustrations with the calming structure that came along with doing his job and serving the Founders. The Vorta sat back down at his terminal, nervously snacking on a small plate of Rippleberries in an attempt to assuage his fears of what might have survived the crash of the Borg Cube.


[Exmodeus III, Cube Wreckage Site]

The Cube had descended through the atmosphere and struck the side of one of the planet's largest mountains. Burying a corner of the cube beneath the surface at the mountain's base.

What the Dominion did not know was that not every Borg aboard the Cube had been killed, and since technical surveryors entering the cube did not bother to list their intended destinations within, the Dominion never realized in time that every missing individual inside the Cube had travelled down to those lower sections buried under the soil. As they slowly disappeared, the enemy within the cube grew stronger. The small enclave of drones that had migrated to the bottom of the ship lay in wiat, monitoring what few working terminals they had, repairing what they could silently. The new drone they had recently obtained would help. Although their connection with the collective was relatively intact, it was weakened. Ever since the incident with the Borg known as Hugh, the Borg had begun installing temporary collective servers, allowing Borg severed from the collective to function as an independent mini-collective while also programming them with the orders that return to the Colelctive and restablishing a permanent collection was paramount. The last transmission, before the connection to the main collective failed, went something like this.


ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 5822: CARDASSIAN COMPLETE. DRONE REDESIGNATED THREE OF FOUR AND ASSIGNED TO REPAIR OF SENSOR SYSTEMS.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT ONE, FAILED. SUBJECT ONE SUCCUMBING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY IN TWO CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT TWO, FAILED. SUBJECT TWO SUCCUMBING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY IN TWO POINT FOUR CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT THREE, FAILED. SUBJECT THREE SUCCUMBING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY IN TWO POINT NINE CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT FOUR, IN PROGRESS. SUBJECT FOUR ADAPTING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY FOR THREE POINT TWO CYCLES, ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL ORGANIC FAILURE OF POINT SIX CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT FIVE, IN PROGRESS. SUBJECT FIVE ADAPTING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY FOR ONE POINT SEVEN CYCLES, ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL ORGANIC FAILURE OF EIGHT POINT ONE CYCLES.

Several silent proximity alarms alerted the surviving drones and snapped several of them stasis.

[Exmodeus III, Outside of the Cube Wreckage Site]

"I am First Koma'aka, and I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This, we do gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember - victory is life."

The other members of Koma'oka's unit responded with a customary "Victory Is Life."

"For the Glory of the Founders, we shall seek out whatever is down there and crush it, as we do all enemies of the Dominion.

[Sidewinder]

Ensign Harry S. L. Kim was NOT a happy man-- after seven years service under Captain Kathryn Janeway's command, his career in Starfleet was flushed down the oversized toilet that was the USS Voyager, followed by his dream of becoming captain of his own ship. He was lucky to remain a man, unlike those who unfortunately became corpses, half-dead cripples, and-- in one bizarre case-- became a woman after Neelix fed him a "delicacy" flavored with synthetic hormones.

After the Voyager returned to Federation space, he resigned his commission and immigrated to Gonghe Republic, which had common borders with the United Federation of Planets and the Breen Confederacy. Owing to its strategic position, Gonghe maintained an impressive army and navy. Kim was sure his technical skills, honed duct taping the Voyager together after Janeway's stupidity nearly broke the ship in half, would win him a commission in Gonghe Navy and-- hopefully-- his own command.

He nearly shot himself when he learned the Navy had disqualified him. It wasn't his fault he failed the drug test! How could he remain sane aboard the Voyager if he didn't use 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine-- ecstasy-- to suppress his urge to grab an ax and hack Captain Janeway to pieces?! If he hadn't set up holograph emitters to create a double of himself to serve as that dog-faced woman's boy toy, he would've shot himself years ago!

Kim stayed his hand when Captain Ai Teppou, a woman mercenary who led the Steel Angel Security Services, approached him with a job offer. He happily signed the contract to become chief engineer aboard the mercenary ship, although at the time he was staring at the blonde's breasts instead of the papers-- Capt Ai's idea of casual wear was combat boots and silky underwear, her modesty preserved only by the Glock 50 automatic pistols at her hips.

He had second thoughts when he realized he was working for a woman whose name meant "Love Guns" and whose idea of a good time was to jump into a gunfight, pistols blazing. By then Capt Ai had sent Kim on ten suicide missions, such as beaming aboard a pirate vessel, shutting down the warp core's antimatter containment field, and-- since the radiation would interfere with the transporters-- fighting his way to the shuttle bay so he could escape before the warp core exploded. Half of his free time was spent in the infirmary, listening to "Love Guns" thank him for a job well done while the medic treated him for cuts, burns, and broken bones, and removed bullets and shrapnel.

He should've known better. The fact that Capt Ai was a "natural" blonde of Asian descent suggested she was genetically enhanced-- such individuals often had a genetic disposition towards schizophrenia or other mental disorders.

At least he was well paid. If he kept it up, he'd earn enough money to buy his own ship... a freighter for transporting fertilizer to agricultural colonies. No pirate would want to steal a load of shit, right? With cargo that harmless, he wouldn't get into any more gunfights, right?

"Attention!" Capt Ai shouted with a smile on her face.

Kim's heart sank when he recognized the smile, the woman's "We're gonna jump into a gunfight, pistols blazing, and we're gonna have fun!" smile.

"Orion pirates have hijacked a freighter, the Shanghai Maru, as it was traveling from Minotaur III to Yitian IV. The freight company-- our client, Evergreen Shipping-- is offering us 18,000,000 yuan to recover the Shanghai and deliver it to Yitian IV."

"18,000,000 yuan..." One of Kim's new comrades, a human mercenary so obsessed with money that the former Starfleet officer thought he was a disguised Ferengi, began calculating the money he'd receive for the mission. "That's five bars of latinum for three to five days' work. Not bad."

"What was aboard the Shanghai?" Kim asked.

"Yitian IV is an agricultural colony. It paid for 500,000 tons of organic fertilizer-- worth less than we're paid for, but to our client, it's a matter of pride as well. So let's strip and clean our weapons in preparation for the coming battle, and go forth shooting!" Capt Ai cheered. Wham! She watched Kim bang his head against his console. "Ensign Kim, are you alright?"

"Fuck me," the former Starfleet officer whispered.

>

LOVE GUNS

An 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic by Sidewinder. Based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry.

>

The MV Steel Angel originally served in the Navy as the GGV Qilin, a license-built copy of the Constitution class heavy cruiser made famous as the "hero's sword" of Captain James T. Kirk. While Starfleet refitted its cruisers for the scientific exploration of distant stars and planets, the Gonghe Navy refitted its cruisers for long-range patrols-- military missions, which demanded different mission equipment. Under the Warrior Armament, Naval Kind and the Phaser Enhancement, Nuclear Isotope Surge Projects-- commonly referred to by the acronyms WANK and PENIS-- cruisers received enhanced shield emitters and were fitted for reactive armor plates. The now redundant navigational deflector was replaced by a heavy PENIS cannon for attacking hardened targets such as underground bunkers, and a second matter/antimatter reaction assembly installed to power the weapon. A wing mounting two impulse engines and two PENIS emitters-- resembling a 20th century sports car's spoiler-- was fitted between the warp nacelles to improve structural integrity and warp field efficiency. Weighted down by the additional weapons and armor, WANK cruisers were nicknamed "Slow Deaths."

This meant Kim had plenty of time to compose his last will and testament as the Angel followed the Orion pirate ships' warp signature to their base. "To my mother, Mary Kim..."

An alarm howled. "Get ready to rock!" Capt Ai cheered through Kim's helmet-mounted communicator.

"Fuck me!" Kim cursed, raising his PADD to throw it against the wall. He remembered that PADDs cost money, that he was saving money to buy his own ship, and carefully put the handheld computer in the right cargo pocket of his tactical suit.

"My name is pronounced Fukumi."

"Sorry, Chief Hada," Kim said to the assistant chief engineer, a young woman of Asian descent. "I'm having a bad day." Boom! "Ah!" he cried as a photon torpedo hit the ship.

Chief Petty Officer Fukumi Hada smiled as she braced herself. "Cheer up! Our upgraded warp and impulse systems got us to the target 10.7 hours early! This battle promises to be the start of a great day!"

'Is everyone aboard out of their fucking minds?' Kim asked himself. 'Yes, and I'm out of my mind for signing up to be one of them.'

In the bridge, an Orion interceptor squadron swarmed in front of the viewscreen. "Hedgehogs One and Three, armed," the tactical officer reported as two panels opened on the saucer's topside and underside, revealing 48 micro-torpedoes ready to fire.

"Fire!" Capt Ai watched the micro-torpedoes fly in all directions, seeking targets. The interceptors maneuvered to dodge the volley, but there were too many micro-torpedoes. "Oh!" Capt Ai had an orgasm watching the interceptors transform into fireballs. "Yes!" She writhed in her tactical suit. "Scan for life signs!"

"Scanning... One life sign, human male, detected," the tactical officer answered.

"Beam them to the brig! Oh! Ah!"

>

"What the fuck am I doing here?" Kim asked himself.

"We're about to interrogate the prisoners for info on their operations. As chief engineer, you're here to help me assess their defenses!" Capt Ai answered as she led him towards the cell where the captured pirate was kept. "Computer, maintain lockdown but shutdown security field for cell number four." Although the prisoner could-- and did-- spit at the blonde, alloy bars still kept him from laying hands on her. "Good morning, Mr. Saddam Binladen." Capt Ai compared the prisoner's face to the mug shot displayed on her PADD. "Wanted for terrorism by Federation authorities, panty raiding by Zeonic authorities, and piracy by Republic authorities. Zeon offered the highest bounty for your capture-- the militant feminists will sentence you to castration and 50 years imprisonment. But if you tell me what I want to know, I'll be generous and accept the second-highest bounty and turn you over to the Republic authorities-- they'll just sentence you to 20 to 30 years hard labor."

"Fuck you!" Binladen cursed.

"I'm flattered that you know of me, but my name is pronounced Fukuyo."

Capt Ai turned to the young woman behind them. "He was using the insult 'Fuck you,' not calling your name, Nurse Hada."

"Oh."

"May tentacle demons drag you into hell and rape your cunt, ass, and cherry lips for all eternity!" the prisoner cursed.

Kim felt little sympathy to Binladen, but even he didn't deserve what the blonde had planned for the pirate. "Sir, I advise you to calm down, apologize to Capt Ai, and..." The blonde's arm flashed beside him. "Too late."

Capt Ai's pistol targeted Binladen's head. "The Glock 50 automatic pistol's trigger pull is 4.5 pounds or 2.0 kilograms. I'm applying one pound of pressure. Where is your base?"

The prisoner frowned at the blonde. "When I get my hands on you..."

"Two pounds. How many personnel are stationed there?"

"Fuck you inside out..."

"Three pounds. What weapons are you armed with?"

The frown became a leer. "Make that cunt lick my ass as I..."

"Four pounds. Are your comrades worth dying for?"

"Make you scream!"

"Your call." Capt Ai squeezed the trigger, firing a 12.7 x 32.8 mm-- .50 Action Express-- round. The armor piercing explosive bullet pierced Binladen's left hand before detonating, sending shrapnel into his thigh, hip, and lower back.

"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh! My hand! You... My hand! Ahhhh!"

The blonde unlocked cell number four, slid the door out of her way, and kicked the prisoner against the floor. "I've done tests on cadavers. A 12.7 x 32.8 mm round delivers 2,207 joules of kinetic energy, enough to shatter every bone in a humanoid hand. Do you wanna know if a round delivers enough energy to shatter a humanoid male's genitals?"

Tears melted away Binladen's leer. "Please, I'll talk, please..."

17 minutes later, the nurse-- CPO Fukuyo Hada-- had stopped the prisoner's bleeding and taped an antibiotics patch to his hip so the wounds wouldn't become infected. Capt Ai secured cell number four and led the others out of the brig. "Oh!" She detached the tactical suit's groin protector to reach her panties and begin masturbating. "Ah! Gunfire is such a turn-on! Ensign Kim!"

The former Starfleet officer was nervous. Although he lusted for the blonde, he wasn't sure he could fuck her without losing his genitals in the process. "Captain..."

"Take the interrogation records to the Sergeant Major! Begin planning a recovery operation! Ah!" Capt Ai felt cool air touch her vulva, followed by warm moisture as Nurse Hada's tongue reached into her vagina. "Oh, Fukuyo! Fuck me! Ah!"

Kim ran for his life.

>

Sergeant Major Jules Winnfield, the Angel's security chief, had at least ten years experience in land warfare as a soldier in the Gonghe Army. He refused to talk about what he did before he enlisted, but Kim suspected the Sgt Maj had served in other armies and fought other wars-- according to Army records, Jules already had a prosthetic right hand when he marched into the recruitment center.

Kim found the Sgt Maj in the holodeck, using his "knight saber"-- a device projecting a purple energy beam to a fixed length to serve as a blade-- against a swordsman with a similar weapon, but with a blue blade.

"Ahhhh!" the holographic swordsman screamed as his hands were severed. Jules grabbed his weapon and crossed the knight sabers like scissor blades, ready to behead the swordsman.

"Do I look like a bitch?!" the Sgt Maj demanded.

The swordsman's anger and hatred were replaced by confusion. "What?" Jules lowered the sabers, the blades cutting into the swordsman's shoulders. "Ah!"

"Do I look like a bitch?!"

"No!"

"Then why did you try to fuck me like a bitch?!"

"I didn't!"

"Yes you did, Skywalker. You tried to fuck me. You ever read the Bible, Skywalker?"

"Bible?"

"It's a religious text from Earth. There's a passage I got memorized, seems appropriate for this situation: Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.'" Jules spun like a propeller, cutting the swordsman into a hundred pieces-- he saved the head for last.

Kim was too stunned to speak. Fortunately-- or unfortunately-- Jules sensed his presence and asked, "May I help you... Sir."

"S-Sergeant Major Winnfield, I-I have interrogation records of the c-captured p-pirate. They d-describe the Orion p-pirates' base, its location, its defenses, the number of personnel, and their com frequencies," Kim answered.

"I'll meet you in the officers' lounge to plan the recovery operation. Just give me a moment." Jules stomped on the swordsman's severed head, cracking the skull and spilling the brains.

"Y-yes, S-Sergeant Major." After Kim exited the holodeck, he realized he never told Jules what kind of operation they were to plan.

>

"This is a suicide mission," Kim said, too tired to express outrage.

"It ain't no suicide mission," Jules insisted. "Look, maybe you had a rough time executing combat missions for the Federation Starfleet, but I'm a Je-- a Storm Rider," Gonghe Army Special Forces. "I eat Klingon warriors for breakfast and use their battlecruisers as toothpicks. A B'rel class cruiser and a three interceptor squadrons-- 36 fighters-- don't mean shit to me. 3,000 Orion pirates in a fortified asteroid defended by shields, one heavy disruptor cannon, 21 disruptor emitters, ten photon torpedo launchers, and a tachyon detection grid-- that's just an oversized toilet I'm gonna have to flush."

"I trust your abilities, Sergeant Major." Capt Ai faced the ensign. "The Sergeant Major will lead the CSAR team," combat search and rescue team. "Ensign Kim, you'll obey his commands until the Shanghai is recovered."

"Yes, Captain." 'Fuck me,' Kim didn't say.

The mercenaries had salvaged the fighters' wreckages, piecing together the shattered armor to disguise an assault shuttle as an Orion interceptor. The plan was for the CSAR team to pilot the disguised shuttle into the fortified asteroid and free the Shanghai's crew. Then the Angel would strafe the asteroid to lure away the pirate ships and fighters, allowing the CSAR team and the freighter crew to escape. Once the Shanghai's warp drive was engaged, the Angel would fire her heavy PENIS to destroy the pirate base.

Nurse Hada wasn't trained to surgically alter a humanoid face to disguise it, so the CSAR team disguised themselves by cutting off the dead pirates' faces to wear as masks. Kim could barely breathe under the stench of rotting skin tissue, but he kept silent-- death by suffocation was less painful than death by Jules' hands. 'Fuck me,' the ensign didn't say.

"I don't swing that way," the Sgt Maj deadpanned, surprising Kim. "We've been detected. Hold on to your butts." A B'rel class cruiser-- a former Klingon bird-of-prey-- decloaked in front of the disguised shuttle. An alarm howled as the bird-of-prey's weapons locked onto them.

The B'rel communications officer hailed the shuttle. "Push me," he challenged.

"Shove you," Jules replied. The alarm was silenced-- the bird-of-prey's weapons were no longer locked onto the shuttle. "Thank you for not scratching that itchy trigger finger. I got too much shit on my hands to clean up anyone else's."

"I'd say. Fuck, what happened to your interceptor?" the B'rel communications officer asked.

"A Hedgehog micro-torpedo salvo is what happened. Now let me pass before I whip your ass."

"Chill, man, chill." The B'rel escorted the disguised shuttle towards the pirate base.

"How'd you know the password?" Kim asked.

"Through the Force," Jules answered.

"Through force?"

"Through the Force, as in I'm gonna force my steel-toed boot up your ass if you don't shut your mouth... Sir."

Kim wisely chose to obey.

Jules flew the shuttle towards the asteroid. Kim panicked as solid rock rushed towards the viewscreen, but instead of crashing, the shuttle flew through the holographic rock to land in a camouflaged hangar. "Sergeant Coolidge, guard the shuttle. Smoke them if you got no other choice, but otherwise keep your cool-- I don't want you blowing our cover before we free the Shanghai and her crew."

"Yes, Sergeant Major."

"Ensign Kim, you come with me."

"Yes, Sergeant Major." 'Fuck me.'

A maintenance crew raced towards the disguised shuttle. "What...?"

Jules waved his hand in front of the crew chief's eyes. "Stay away from my interceptor."

"Stay away from his interceptor," the crew chief repeated.

"Keep everyone else away from my interceptor-- the reactor's leaking radiation like Granny's bladder."

"Keep everyone else away from his interceptor-- the reactor's leaking radiation like Granny's bladder."

The Sgt Maj turned to the surprised ensign. "Let's roll."

Kim followed Jules past the mess hall. 'What the...?' The ensign saw two humanoid bodies hanging on meat hooks. A Ferengi "cook" cut a bicep off a hanging body, put it between two slices of bread, and raised the sandwich to his mouth. A second Ferengi grabbed the sandwich, starting a fight with the cook. "Urgh!" Kim covered his mouth and tasted vomit.

"We're almost there." Jules led Kim to where the airlock where the Shanghai's crew was kept. "Hey, Evergreen Shipping just paid these guys' ransom, so we're here to take them off your hands," he said to the guards.

"Great." The senior guard reached for the airlock controls.

Jules put his hand on the senior guard's shoulder. "Alive."

The senior guard frowned in suspicion. "I ain't heard shit about letting no hostages leave the Rock alive."

"Well, you just heard it from me."

"I better call the Boss."

Jules waved his hand in front of the senior guard's eyes. "You don't need to call the Boss."

"Are you shitting me? I need to..." Purple light flashed in front of the senior guard's eyes-- then his head flew off his shoulders.

The Sgt Maj beheaded the second guard. "Damn Force resistant." His knight saber cut down the chains restraining the captured crewmen to the walls. "We're mercenaries, Evergreen Shipping hired us to free you, now act free." Jules turned to Kim. "They've been drugged. Help them get on their feet."

"Why don't we just sneak aboard the Shanghai and beam them out of here?"

"You know better than that. The security system will detect the transporter beam, and the pirates will be onto us like a ton of bricks."

'I'm not a fucking nurse.' The ensign put a crewman's arm over his shoulder. "What's that smell?"

"Semen. Motherfucking pirates have been using the Shanghai's crew as gimps," sex slaves.

"That's a violation of the--"

"They're Orion pirates-- they don't give a damn about the rights of sentient beings."

Kim sadly shook his head. "Silly me."

>

Kok'Suka, "Queen of the Orion Pirates," sometimes regretted moving her base of operations within Gonghe space. Here, the right to bear arms was protected by law, which was a blessing because her pirates could easily buy whatever weapons they needed, including photon torpedoes-- and a curse because their would-be victims could also buy whatever weapons they needed to defend themselves. The Gonghe Army and Navy were a double-curse, inflicting heavy casualties whenever her pirates measured their penises against the military's PENISes-- fortunately, the Slow Deaths lived up to their nickname, and pirates who survived their awesome firepower were usually able to flee. 'Could be worse. At least Romulan ale is legal here.' "Where are the surviving interceptor pilots? I need data on that enemy warship."

Her subordinates faced each other, seeking information. "What were the pilots' names?" "What was the number of the surviving interceptor?" "Where is it now?"

Kok'Suka pushed a nameless technician out of the way so she could check the computer records herself. "Why isn't the maintenance crew working on that interceptor?"

In the disguised shuttle, Sergeant First Class Butch Coolidge watched heavily armed pirates approach, alerting the maintenance crew. One of the pirates grabbed a wrench and threw it, knocking off part of the disguise to reveal the shuttle. "Shit!" As the pirates and maintenance crew faced each other, confused and uncertain of what to do, Butch powered up the shuttle and piloted it out of the hangar. He turned around, opened the bomb bay doors to reveal a Hedgehog, and fired a salvo into the base. "Yipee-ki-yay, motherfucker!" Butch cheered as parked shuttles and interceptors transformed into fireballs.

In the command center, Kok'Suka swore to have the maintenance crew castrated to punish their incompetence. "Recall the bird-of-prey and the surviving squadrons! I want that whatever-it-is destroyed!"

Kim had carried the crewmen aboard the Shanghai-- he was fortunate the freighter was so heavily automated. "Ow, my back!" Bang, bang! "What...?" His hidden communicator beeped.

"Sir, get ready to move," Jules transmitted. "The pirates are onto us."

Kim heard the sounds of battle echoed through the airlock connecting the Shanghai to the pirate base. "Fuck me!"

The freighter captain stirred, recovering from the drugs' effects. "Ow! Why does my ass hurt?" He frowned at Kim. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ensign Kim of the United-- of Steel Angel Security Services. Evergreen Shipping hired us to rescue you and your crew."

"Huh? Rescue?" Beam! "Oh shit! That was a phaser firing, right?"

"Right. Now let's get this ship into warp."

>

Aboard the bird-of-prey, "Captain" Bukkake cursed himself for not blasting the disguised shuttle into subatomic particles. "Where's the whatever-it-is that attacked the base?"

"The Raptor class assault shuttle, Captain? We lost it somewhere in the asteroid field," the tactical officer answered.

'Queen Kok'Suka will fry my cock 'n' balls for this!' Bukkake put his hands over his groin at the thought, as if he could shield his genitals from the Orion woman's rage.

"Captain, I'm detecting an unidentified ship, Constitution WANK class, at bearing..." The tactical officer watched the Angel strafe the asteroid. "Too late."

"Captain, we've lost communications with the Rock!" the communications officer reported.

Bukkake covered his mouth to hide a smile. 'The bitch is dead! This is my chance to crown myself King of the Orion Pirates!' "Full impulse! Get us within firing range of that Slow Death!"

"That's suicide! Our weapons will barely scratch its armor, and that heavy PENIS will blast us into subatomic particles!" the tactical officer protested.

"We'll use warp strafing!" Bukkake watched the tactical officer frown in confusion. "Warp strafing, you know, warping within point-blank range of a target, firing disruptors and torpedoes, and warping away before the target returns fire?"

"That's never been demonstrated to be a valid tactic," the tactical officer stated.

"I'll demonstrate its validity! Warp seven, engage!" Nothing happened. "What the fuck is the holdup?!" Bukkake demanded.

"We're in an asteroid field! It takes time to calculate... No!" the helmsman cried when Bukkake pushed him out of the way to engage the bird-of-prey's warp drive.

Aboard the Angel, Capt Ai noticed a flash as the bird-of-prey crashed into an asteroid, breaking itself in two. "What's that?"

"One B'rel class cruiser-- it apparently warped into an asteroid. I detect four escape pods launching from the cruiser. Should I scan for life signs?" the tactical officer asked.

"Not now. Focus on the pirate base."

>

Jules was a force of nature, spinning like a tornado to cut down nearby enemies, the integral Glock 50 in his prosthetic hand sending armor piercing explosive bullets like thunderbolts to strike down distant enemies. When he finally stopped, he became the eye of a storm: calmly breathing as he was surrounded by dismembered, disemboweled, and decapitated bodies.

"Argh!" A pirate's head turned in search of his disruptor pistol. "My weapon!" He found it beside his head, his severed hand still gripping it-- his remaining hand struggled to pry the dead fingers off the disruptor. "Die!" He sat up to aim the disruptor at Jules, only to watch the pistol fly out of his hand. "I don't understand..."

Jules stomped on the disruptor, crushing it. "What's your name, pirate?"

The pirate-- the only survivor out of the 88 who were sent to secure the airlock-- looked up in confusion. "Brett."

The Sgt Maj reloaded his integral Glock 50. "You ever read the Bible, Brett?"

"Yes," the pirate answered.

"There's a passage I got memorized, seems appropriate for this situation: Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.'" The Glock 50 targeted Brett's head as a blue light enveloped Jules-- Kim had used the Shanghai's transporter to beam the Sgt Maj aboard the freighter as the bullet was leaving the barrel.

"Ahhhh!" the former Starfleet officer cried as the bullet grazed his left hip, hit the console behind him, and exploded, sending shrapnel into his buttocks. "Fuck!"

"Oh. Sorry about that... Sir."

>

"My queen, the Shanghai Maru is leaving Dock Two!"

In the command center, Kok'Suka's eyes burning with rage as the freighter accelerated away from the base. "Evergreen must have hired mercenaries to recover their lost lamb. I must remember to show no mercy the next time we capture one of their ships." She turned to the tactical officer. "Where's the bird-of-prey?"

"Unknown... Wait." The bird-of-prey drifted in front of an external camera, allowing personnel in the command center to see the wreckage. "I'm detecting four escape pods..."

"Summon my personal chef. I want Captain Bukkake's cock 'n' balls for dinner," Kok'Suka ordered. "Deep fried while they're still attached, so he can feel the heat."

"My queen, the Slow Death's heavy PENIS is...!" Boom!

>

"Oh! Yes! Phaser Enhancement, Nuclear Isotope Surge! Ah! Yes!" Capt Ai was between orgasms when she said, "There are 24 to 30 Orion interceptors we haven't accounted for! Ah! Let's leave the area before they return! Oh!" She knew the pirates' survival meant the mercenaries would find more work in the near future.

"Yes, Captain."

Unknown to Binladen or his captors, the Orion pirates had a second B'rel class cruiser at their base. The Klingon Defense Force had contracted Gonghe armaments companies to refit older warships with armor and weapons comparable to the WANK cruisers. Kok'Suka bought a set of armor and weapons from a corrupt Klingon general, and intended to refit the second bird-of-prey. When the heavy PENIS blasted the pirate base in half, this bird-of-prey became Kok'Suka's escape craft-- now it was an instrument of vengeance. "I want the Slow Death's captain for dinner. Save the crew for feasts later," the Orion female ordered her personal chef.

"Yes, my queen."

With its space frame revealed, the B'rel class cruiser resembled a winged skeleton-- an Angel of Death coming to reap the souls of Kok'Suka's enemies. The bird-of-prey, partially disassembled so it may be overhauled before being refitted with WANK equipment, was unarmored and armed only with the photon torpedo launcher-- the disruptor cannons were to be replaced with PENIS emitters. Kok'Suka didn't consider herself at a disadvantage-- without the mass of the armor and disruptor cannons, the bird-of-prey was faster, and quickly caught up to the Angel. "Continue tracking the target, passive sensors only."

"Yes, my queen."

Kok'Suka used the helmet-mounted sight to lock on the Angel, and gripped the joysticks controlling the weapons systems. "Decloak on my mark. Three... two... one... Mark!"

>

The Shanghai traveled in front of the Angel. In the bridge, Jules' head rose, as if he heard something. "Turn around."

The freighter helmsman frowned at the Sgt Maj. "Say again? Ah!" he cried when Jules pushed him out of the way to reach the controls. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jules silenced the helmsman with his fist as he turned the ship to see a torpedo miss the Angel. A second torpedo detonated upon the Angel's shields. "You wanna start shit with me? I'll give you some shit." He faced the captain. "Get ready to open the cargo bay doors and purge the replicators' carbohydrates supply."

"What?!" Bang! The captain's head turned rearwards to see an unexploded bullet embedded in the wall behind him.

"Get ready to open the cargo bay doors and purge the replicators' carbohydrates supply," Jules repeated.

Kok'Suka and her subordinates focused on the Angel, the bird-of-prey violently maneuvering to dodge incoming phaser beams and torpedoes. They didn't consider the Shanghai a threat, and ignored the freighter-- they forgot about her cargo.

Splat! The Orion female frowned at the brown solid covering the viewscreen. "What is this shit?!"

Shit-- organic fertilizer-- was rich in nitrate, an oxidizing agent. Mixing nitrates with carbohydrates can form explosives. Captain Ai understood Jules' plan when the Shanghai opened the cargo bay doors to eject 120,000 tons of fertilizer onto the bird-of-prey. "Fire phasers and torpedoes!" Boom! "Repeat!" Boom! "Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!" She writhed in her tactical suit, watching the bird-of-prey's wreckage tumble out of control. "Scan for survivors!"

>

Captain Ai greeted Jules and Kim when they beamed aboard the Angel. "Welcome home!"

"Did the check clear?" the Sgt Maj asked.

"Yes. Fortunately, the client decided not to deduct the cost of the expended fertilizer from our fee."

Kim knew the blonde had recently fired her pistols-- he could still smell the gunpowder. "That's smart of them."

"We're also getting a nice bonus: the bounties for..." Capt Ai named the surviving pirates in the Angel's brig. "After the Angel is 3R'ed," repaired, refueled, rearmed, "we're having a party!"

>

Kok'Suka smiled as the WANK cruiser captain-- in her mind, a middle-aged human male-- screamed. "You look delicious." She jabbed a fork into the captain's deep fried penis, cut off the head, and put it in her mouth. "A bit rare, but..." She ate the rest of the captain's genitals, enjoying the taste with the sound of his screams.

Binladen laid on the floor beside his queen, watching Kok'Suka eat the fingers of his left hand-- blown off by the armor piercing explosive bullet and ignored when Nurse Hada treated his wounds. "My queen, wake up. Those aren't sausages-- those are my fingers. My queen..."

Kok'Suka's smile widened as she dreamed. "Your cock 'n' balls are a nice appetizer, but I want more... You're biceps. I'll have your biceps for dinner."

'Fuck me, my fathers, and their fathers.' Binladen stopped trying to awaken Kok'Suka-- he didn't want her to eat the body parts he had left.

Whir-click! Kok'Suka awoke with a start when the Kim entered the brig. "Identify yourself!" She saw a platoon of Gonghe Public Security officers behind the former Starfleet officer. "You're a bounty hunter."

"I'm an engineer... for a private military company," Kim corrected, reluctantly admitting he was a mercenary. "I'm releasing you to police custody. Please step away from the door." He watched Kok'Suka comply before unlocking the cell. Whoosh! "Argh!" The Orion female lunged, hit Kim's solar plexus before he could defend himself, and locked her right arm around his head as her left hand drew the phaser pistol at Kim's hip.

Kok'Suka expressed no fear as the police officers' pistols and carbines targeted her. "Get back, or I'll blast him into subatomic particles!"

"Fuck me," Kim whispered.

"I know you can hear me, captain of the Slow Death. Beam the police officers back where they came from, free my pirates, and give me command of this ship, or..." She heard a transporter beam hum behind her, instinctively aimed the phaser rearwards, and pressed the firing button. The phaser beam would've hit Jules as he beamed into the cell, but he quickly turned on the knight saber to block the beam. "Ah!" Kok'Suka cried when the saber cut into her left wrist, making her drop the phaser.

The Sgt Maj held the saber in front of the Orion female's eyes. "Let the ensign go."

"My skin, my beautifully smooth skin! You...!"

"Bitch, you're lucky to get off with just a burn on your wrist. Let the ensign go before I decide to lobotomize you," Jules repeated. When Kok'Suka refused to comply, a police officer's carbine butt stroked the Orion female's head, breaking her nose. "Thank you, officer."

>

A Leary station was a commercial space station where marijuana and opium poppies were grown, ecstasy and lysergic acid diethylamide was manufactured, and Romulan ale was sold, taking advantage of a loophole in laws banning these and other recreation drugs from planets of the Gonghe Republic-- instead of closing the loophole, the government decided to impose double taxes on the Leary stations. Although Capt Ai wasn't a druggie, she rented a penthouse for 48 hours so the Angel's crew may party in shifts-- the mercenaries cheered, agreeing a Leary station was the perfect place to have a party.

Kim wasn't invited to the party-- as punishment for letting Kok'Suka hold him hostage with his own weapon, he was "imprisoned" in the Angel's gymnasium, being retrained in hand-to-hand combat. The Sgt Maj was his instructor. 'Fuck me.'

"I told you I don't swing that way," Jules deadpanned.

"I didn't say anything."

"You thought something-- that's the same as saying and doing something, so you better be ready to take responsibility for what you say and do. Now get ready." Whoosh! "You weren't ready. Try again," the Sgt Maj ordered the former Starfleet officer now lying on the floor.

"I didn't even see you move!" Kim cried as he climbed to his feet.

"That's your problem-- you're trying to see me instead of sensing me. Use your other senses-- sound, smell, taste, touch-- in addition to sight." Jules returned the Glock 17T training pistol to Kim.

"I wonder what the others are doing?"

"The Hada twins are using strap-on dildos to vaginally and anally penetrate Captain Ai. They just had an orgasm together-- big one." Jules smirked, sensing Kim's shock. "Her genetic enhancements don't just make her smarter, stronger, and faster-- they make her lustier as well." The smirk became a nostalgic smile. "If the Je-- never mind." He stopped smiling. "Get ready."

'Don't give up!' Kim told himself. "Oomph!" He climbed to his feet again. 'Four more years!' "Argh!" 'The contract expires in four years! By then you'll have enough credits to buy your own starship!' "Yahhhh!" 'Will I live that long?' the former Starfleet officer asked himself.

"You ain't got to worry about that. Whatever happens, happens because of the will of the Force. Now get ready." Whoosh!

"Ahhhh!"

>

Not the end.

Gonghe is the pinyin-- Chinese phonetic alphabet-- spelling of Gung-Ho, which perfectly describes an average Republic citizen's attitude towards the right to bear arms.

In case anyone's curious, MV means Mercenary Vessel and GGV means Gonghe Government Vessel.

[Falkenhorst]

PREVIEW FOR MORE UPF:

UPF DOES nBSG... COMING SOON

The primary sewer main didn't last much longer. With a rumbling blast, the pipe gave way, spewing a flood of raw sewage into the compartment at a rate that only seemed to increase. On a starship, the same as a submarine, the biggest threats to the crew are fire and leaks. Galactica was about to be schooled in the second.

Galactica CIC

The deck reverberated beneath Col. Tigh's feet. Noticing the change, he turned his gaze to the other officers at their posts. "Anybody else feel that?" he asked ominously. They started to look at him with quizzical looks of half hidden amusement, wondering if he was actually on the level, or if this was the beginning of one of his drunken episodes.

"Colonel!" Piped up Lt. Gaeta. "I have a red light on the primary sewer main... 2 compartments forward of frame 32. Steerage deck, sir!"

"Reports are coming in from steerage now sir," said Dualla. "Uh... it seems the lower decks are flooding with raw sewage!"

"Get Chief Tyrol down there with a DC team to contain the leak manually." ordered Tigh, snickering at the thought of Tyrol up to his chest in human waste struggling to close a rusty emergency valve.

[Darth Fanboy]

YES! FALK IS BACK!

And on the 4th year anniversary of his joining SDN no less. This'll be great fun. *cackles evil-ishly*

[Falkenhorst]

Yeah and I've outlasted several dozen other people on here who I'll decline to name who would have popped a nasty orgasm to see me go. Make no mistake, UPF Fans... you have not even seen the beginning yet.

[Sun Wukung]

Let's Go UPF!
Let's Go!
All of the following necessary food groups for your SD.net diet are on the SD.net Food Pyramid
HOOKERS
BEER
SEX
AND
jAPANESE pERVERTS jUST lIKE iN rEAL lIFE mAN!
On a slightly less retarded note, awesome job Mr.Faulkenhorst and Mr.Shep. I will be hoping to do bussiness with you fine gentlemen again. *hands them both bussiness cards* Sayounara bakayaro!

[MKSheppard]

"Faulkenhorst"? Sounds like our UPF idea is really closer to reality than we think, eh Fanboy?

[Darth Fanboy]

"Faulkenhorst"? Sounds like our UPF idea is really closer to reality than we think, eh Fanboy?

I haven't the slighting Idea what you mean Shap

[fusion]

I read it through yesterday, I am speechless; anyways:

UPF...FUCK YEAH

BOOZE AND HOOKERS... FUCK YEAH

FELONIES... FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN... FUCK YEAH

[Darth Fanboy]

"UPF Update"

UPF has secretly copyrighted the trademark "Snakes on a Starship" for use in a future project. All other usage is unofficial and subject to ludicrous financial penalties rivaled only by those of RIAA and MPAA lawsuits.

Thank you.

EDIT:

As of September 19th, 2006, UPF also secretly copyrights the trademark to UPF40K.

[Darth Fanboy]

The Prototype for the UPF Comic Book.

[Darth Fanboy]

[Exmodeus VIII, Cargo Hold of the En'zel]

Due to a loathing amongst the higher-ups in the Romulan military, their military transports lagged far behind even their underappreciated counterparts in the Federation, and especially those in use by the Klingons. When war was declared against the DOminion shipyards across the Empire began converting large-cargo craft into the ships that would deliver soldiers into battle. The cargo ships were chose for their large transporters capable of mass beamings, and the fact they were the only ROmulan ship in production with the space required to house enough soldiers in the interim between outposts.

The order had been given out only two hours before their arrival on the planet. Forcing the mercenaries on board to scramble to assemble their gear, both for the upcoming battle, and for the stay on the planet. The Romulans only provided shelter and other necessities at a substantial fraction of their standard merecenary contract. Only the most dim witted of mercs let the Romulans cut their pay in exchange for these things.

Fanboy double checked everything in his pack as he stashed away the winnings from the Nausicaans. It wasn't much money, but after having a pair of Varon-T disruptors pointed at his head and escaping with only a cut on his right arm he felt that it was better than nothing.

"Boy you sure you know how to pack. Inflatable survival tent, climate regulator, you've got everything except a replicator in here!" Fangirl smirked, leaning over Fanboy and draping her arms over him, letting her breasts spill onto his shoulder the way she knew he liked it.

"And you didn't pack anything. I find it hard to believe that you thought we would be in and out of this place before bedtime." He chuckled.

"Well I knew that if it came down to it i'd figure something out. But I don't have to worry about that now do I? Or are you going to tell me there's only room for one in the tent." She said, running her fingers down the collar of his shirt where it peeked out from behind body armor. He grabbed her hand in his and leaned in to her and kissed her hard.

"You know we might not have to worry about it if one of us gets killed down there." He turned away and began subconsciously double checking his weapons and recounting his spare ammunition.

"Don't fear," she spoke while balling her hands into fists and putting them on her hips. "I'll protect you. Just make sure that when I save your skin down there I see a fair share of your paycheck."

He turned back over his shoulder to look at her, he knew it was sheer bravado and nothing more. But it felt pretty good to know that he could go into battle with his wife and not have to worry about her getting hurt, or having to worry about her stabbing him in the back either. Fangirl smiled and started to respond but the lights dimmed momentarily and the deckplates beneath her began to shake.

"Seems like we're entering the atmosphere." Fanboy heard from a nearby alien who was twitching nervously while holding what appeared to be a very large grenade. Fanboy eased his postition away from the potential teamkiller slowly and discretely, so that someone else might move into his spot and provide an extra layer of defense against possible fragmentation.

"Wait a minute." Thought Fanboy. "Why would be entering the atmosphere if we have the bulk transporters."

The shaking resumed and this time it was much more violent, and suddenly he realized. "Oh fuck we're being shot at."


[Exmodeus VIII, aboard the Command Ship Scythe]

The Romulan Fleet had begun engaging the Exmodeus Outer Defense fleet. Unknown to Shinzon, or any of his commanders or operatives, the Dominion had deployed several ships to the area to begin moving additional equipment to Exmodeus III. Not only would more Jem'Hadar be present on the surface laboring to get the necessary work done, but more of their ships would be in orbit as well.

"Admiral Shinzon, Troopship En'zel has come under fire. It is carrying the first wave of mercenary troops scheduled to land." The Reman Tactical officer had no sooner finished his sentence when another repot came in. "En'zel's shields down to eighty percent, they will need another five minutes to find a suitable transporter site on the surface. Troop ship Ik'tel is reporting extensive hull damage from suicide attacks.

"Then get our warships between their guns and our troops! I am not going to have this mission fail because we lost all of our troops before they even touched the ground! Target their engines, immobilize them before they can ram us! Any ship succumbing to a ramming attack will have their Captain demoted in rank for incompetence!"

More warbirds pushed to the front of the Romulan formation and the larger ships slowly but steadily held off and destroyed the remaining Dominion ships, as the last of the Dominion forces in space fell the force on the planet began to dig in. But before they could complete those preparations a ground force of several thousand mercenary soldiers were systematically beamed down. With a variety of weaponry almost unheard of in modern interplanetary warfare the mercenaries attacked the entrenched Jem'Hadar.

[Exmodeus VIII, Battleground]

Fanboy and Fangirl ended up right in the middle of one of the first developing firefights. A small clearing amidst a petrified forest of sorts. At first they had felt as if their luck couldn't get any worse, but when mercenaries began materializing up in the stone trees, some of them impaled by branches, they became slightly more optimistic about their own predicament.

"Jemmies started firing up transporter scramblers. We won't be getting any more reinforcements anytime soon even if they start dumping more troops outside the scrambler perimeter." Fangirl drew her weapon reflexively and dove under cover behind an ancient tree.

"You thought it was going to be easy? Sweetie this just MIGHT be worse than the time you tried hawking those blackmail photos of the Tellarite ambassador getting his second snout polished by that underaged Benzite." Fanboy said as he hefted one of his most prized possessions, a non replicated fully functional AK-47, even hundreds of years after their creation the ones that were still in existence functioned exceptionally. He fired off a few bursts managing to hit one overzealous Jem'Hadar in the neck, forcing his more sensible brethren to retreat back to the treeline across the clearing.

"Fucking wonderful." Fanboy said, "Lets hope those pointy eared fucks in the green spaceships have a plan or else this is going to become the most unentertaining place i've ever been nearly killed at."

Suddenly the trees on the far end of the clearing with the Jem'Hadar started exploding. Fanboy turned to look behind him to see where the fire was coming from but there was no sign of any kind of barrage coming from his direction. More explosions followed and Fangirl leapt up from behind her cover to charge forward. "Hey you better hurry up or there won't be any left. Whatever's annhilating our gray scaled friends is coming from right behind them.

By the time they arrived at their enemy's former position the bloodbath had already come and gone. The mercenary troops had been the distraction Shinzon required to allow the more professional and better equipped Reman troops to overrun the Dominion position after the defenders had committed their entire force in the direction the mercenaries were coming from. Fanboy and Fangirl stopped in their tracks as a contingent of Remans were tossing dead Jem'Hadar onto a fire, which was less labor intensive than a mass grave but had a distinctively putrid smell that had everyone either wishing for respirators or desperately fumbling for their own.

Upon getting his first look at the Remans, fangirl leaned to Fanboy's ear and whispered. "Good thing we aren't fighting a war in the name of beauty, otherwise i wouldn't know which side to fight for."

"Ugly Civil War, I'm with the Remans!" Fanboy said in a mocking tone of voice. The mood was jubilant, as the conflict had ended rather quickly. but between the Jem'Hadar, their transporter scramblers, and the lack of medics among the mercenaries. The body count for the paid soldiers was horrendous. 10% of all deployed mercenary forces were killed in what was supposed to be a lackluster battle with no heavy fighting. At least thats what the ROmulans had said, but amongst the more realistic hired guns was the growing sentiment that they were little better than cannon fodder that could fight back, and that there was a lot more that stake than some out of the way contested planet.

"Hey," Fangirl said. "You said I thought it was going to be easy? Well I guess it was."

"It was over pretty damn quick. Something else has to be fucking with the Dominion around here because there's no way this battle should have been written so quickly within one chapter...err...I mean a few hours." Fanboy said, breaking the fourth wall with the eloquence of a masturbating walrus.

[Bridge of the Command Ship Scythe]

"Admiral, reports from the newly established forward command center tell us that we have the cloning facility relatively intact. Only a small fraction of Jem'Hadar stayed behind once the mercenaries were deployed."

"Very good Vkruk," Shinzon spoke, clutching his head absently.

"I am sure that the Dominion technology will give us the key to aiding your condition."

"It had better, otherwise i've been told that I will require a 100% blood transfusion. Do you realize how absurd that sounds? It is almost as if some cruel god is watching over my character, and creating these little tragedies just to make my life more interesting. Has the command center been fully secured?"

Vkruk turned towards the console, and for a second he disappeared into the darkened corner of the bridge with the only indication of his presence being the soft glow of a communications screen that was busy sending reports from the surface. "It has."

"Then you are to beam down and begin inspecting it, but make sure all of the working cloning facilities are secured and taken out of sight before the Romulans get to it, especially any known Tal shiar operatives. Tell them that all cloning equipment was sabotaged by the Vorta. Once you have finished inform me of the equipment's location."

Vkruk acknowledged Shinzon with a curt bow of his head and made his way towards the transporter room, If Shinzon did not recieve some sort of treatment soon it would decrease his lifespan significantly. Of course if it wasn't for the current war they would be free to pursue their own agendas, and a certain Federation captain might have already been in their hands.


[Exmodeus III, Wreckage Technical Station]

"Dizel, I thought I told you not to contact me until the salvaging of the Borg propulsion system was finished." The Founder's voice was as cold as the the void of space itself, and Dizel knew that even one of his beloved idols was not above a fit of anger that would leave underacheiving subordinates dead or worse.

"It was unavoidable, and I beg for your divine forgiveness." Dizel cringed and made the appropriate gesture of submission.

"As well you should." Came another voice, clipped and precise and not unlike Dizel's own. The screen changed images to that of Weyoun. Dizel tightly clenched his fist, even amongst his own species Weyoun was considered arrogant and unbearable.

"To what do I owe this pleasure brother Weyoun?" There was some dialogue off screen that Dizel couldn't quite make out, but he was sure that he heard the Founder speaking softly.

"I've just now been appointed liason between your project and the FOunders, at least until you demonstrate the level of competence that the Dizel line was engineered for. With that formality out of your way we can get to the purpose of your transmission. Do you have any objection to this?"

Dizel resisted the urge to sneer, instead he resigned himself to his current situation. "None." was all he replied with. Weyoun remained silent, allowing Dizen to cotninue. "I've just recieved word from our forward outpost on Exmodeus VIII. A Romulan fleet has overran the planet and established a beachhead within the system. Judging by the size of their fleet, Exmodeus III is the only possible objective. As a result we have lost all of our cloning facilities in the system, and the only facility in the entire sector designed to reproduce Vorta."

Weyoun was obviously amused at the prospects of Dizel's line being wiped out, but that same amusement was dampened by the news that another Dominion project was being pushed back by members of the Federation Alliance. Still, he somehow managed to remain smug. "Is one Romulan Fleet too much for your troops to handle Dizel?"

"We have sufficient forces to hold the planet, but according to reports this fleet is the same ROmulan fleet that has been victorious in almost every attempt by our forces to penetrate Romulan space."

Weyoun smiled, not oblivious to the meaning behind Dizel's words but completely devoid of sympathy. Dizel knew that he was in a no win situation. He would either have to beg for reinforcements, or suffer an embarassing defeat.

"Dizel, if you can't handle the situation on your own you should have told me. I am more than willing to send you about a dozen unassigned Cardassian warships to augment your fleet, and of course we'll send another division of Jem'Hadar as well. Does that make you feel better?"

Humbled but satisfied at the reinforcements Dizel nodded. "I ask for these things only to better serve the Founders."

"See to it that you serve them better then." Weyoun jabbed as a he cut off the transmission.

Dizel slumped in his seat slightly and began examining the reports of the missing Jem'Hadar and Cardassians that were lost while navigating the deepest recesses of the Borg ship. No need to let Weyoun know about that unless it actually be came a problem.

[Exmodeus III, Wreckage Technical Station]

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, COMPLETE. PRIOR DESIGNATION "FIRST KOMA'AKA". PRIOR DESIGNATION IRRELEVANT. NEW DESIGNATION ONE OF FIVE. ONE OF FIVE ADAPTING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY FOR POINT THREE CYCLES. IDENTIFIED ORGANIC DEFICIENCY COMPENSATION IN PROGRESS. ESTIMATED COMPLETION OF ADAPTATION IN SIX CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795 REASSIGNED PRIORITY TWO. SPECIES 1795 NOW SUITABLE FOR ASSIMILATION INTO BORG COLLECTIVE.

*to be continued*

[Sidewinder]

From some differences to the ending of 'Nemesis'-- Data surviving, Riker becoming captain of the Enterprise-E instead of the Titan-- may I assume Shinzon somehow cured himself of his accelerated aging and is still alive at the time the Azzfucker was boarded by Zaia?

It may be interesting if Shinzon's plans to conquer the Federation involve LORE instead of B-4-- say a Tal Shiar officer managed to steal Lore's parts right from under Starfleet's noses, the Tal Shiar reassembled Lore for some conspiracy or another, and then Lore decides "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" and chooses to help Shinzon. Maybe you can have Lore-- surgically altered to appear Romulan-- as the captain of a warbird in Shinzon's fleet.

By the way, my current UPF fanfic involves Section 31 hiring mercenaries to retake a starbase occupied by the Borg. Would Darth Fanboy take the job-- Section 31 WILL pay with latinum instead of Federation credits-- or would he say, "I'm not getting myself killed for those damn commies!" and smoke out his brains aboard a Leary station while the battle rages?

[Darth Fanboy]

From some differences to the ending of 'Nemesis'-- Data surviving, Riker becoming captain of the Enterprise-E instead of the Titan-- may I assume Shinzon somehow cured himself of his accelerated aging and is still alive at the time the Azzfucker was boarded by Zaia?

This story i'm working on takes place during the DOminion War, if that's what you're talking about.

By the way, my current UPF fanfic involves Section 31 hiring mercenaries to retake a starbase occupied by the Borg. Would Darth Fanboy take the job-- Section 31 WILL pay with latinum instead of Federation credits-- or would he say, "I'm not getting myself killed for those damn commies!" and smoke out his brains aboard a Leary station while the battle rages?

I don't see why not.

[Sidewinder]

From some differences to the ending of 'Nemesis'-- Data surviving, Riker becoming captain of the Enterprise-E instead of the Titan-- may I assume Shinzon somehow cured himself of his accelerated aging and is still alive at the time the Azzfucker was boarded by Zaia?

This story i'm working on takes place during the DOminion War, if that's what you're talking about.

I'm referring to the main UPF arc. Will we see a HEALTHY Shinzon sodomizing a green Riker to avoid the teeth around Riker's new vagina? Or does Shinzon STILL kick the bucket?

[Darth Fanboy]

Oh, Well AFAIK Shinzon's dead but this is UPF and we have more plot devices than grains of sand on the beach.

[Sidewinder]

"What in hell is going on here?!"

Commander John Riehle, commander of Starbase 1337, shook in fear of Fleet Captain Global War on Terror Rice IX. Behind him, the Borg were assimilating the command center, transforming it into God Knows What-- an unwelcome sight to the inspecting officer. "Sir, the Borg are political refugees fleeing persecution in their homeland. They asked for asylum--"

"You let the Borg aboard a Starfleet facility?!"

"Sir, under the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets, no Starfleet officer may deny the right of asylum to any sentient being who requests it. We are obligated to protect these refugees and to provide for their needs." Behind Cmdr Riehle, a Borg drone extended its assimilation tubules to inject nanoprobes into him. Bang! "Eek!" Cmdr Riehle looked away as Capt Rice fired a 10.9 x 32.8 mm-- .44 Magnum-- round, his head turning to see the bullet's kinetic energy behead the drone. "Sir, you're violating the constitutional rights of a sentient being! I must warn you, I'll be filing a formal complaint to Starfleet Command!"

Capt Rice raised his Smith and Wesson Model B29 revolver, threatening to pistol whip Cmdr Riehle. "I just saved you from getting ass-raped by the Borg!"

"I'll also be filing a formal complaint against your use of homophobic terminology! Not that I'd engage in anal sex, but I respect right to privacy for male homosexuals to--" Cmdr Riehle blushed. "Besides, your violent militaristic attitude probably provoked that drone! I'm sure if you surrendered your weapon and ceased further action against the Borg, we can be united in friendship and--" Another drone interrupted Cmdr Riehle's preaching by injecting nanoprobes into him. "Gasp!"

Capt Rice squeezed the trigger-- the bullet beheaded the drone behind Cmdr Riehle-- heard footsteps behind him, turned to slam the 8-inch barrel against a drone's head, and fractured its skull. As the drone fell, others rose in its place like the mythical hydra's heads. "Emergency beam up!" Starbase 1337's command center faded out of sight to be replaced by the transporter room of the USS Miyamoto Musashi, a Galaxy WANK class "explorer" he commanded. "Red alert!" Capt Rice sprinted into the bridge. "The Borg have taken over Starbase 1337's command center-- it must be sterilized!"

"What?!" The bridge crewmembers stopped doubting Capt Rice when the Borg hailed them from Starbase 1337's command center.

"We are political refugees," the Borg claimed. "Lower your shields and donate your ship to the Collective. We will accept them as humanitarian aid and add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is in violation of the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets."

"Arm the Shock and Awe," Capt Rice ordered. "Lock on the command center. Fire." The "awe" of a heavy PENIS cannon opened a hole in the starbase shields. Capt Rice watched the "shock" of three quantum torpedoes shoot towards the starbase, only to bounce harmlessly off its hull plating.

"Sir, the Borg have remotely disarmed the torpedo warheads!" Lieutenant Junior Grade Haruka Tenou, the tactical officer, reported before a cutting beam cut into the Musashi's reactive armor. "Ah!"

'They must have gotten the disarmament codes from Commander Riehle.' "Reverse impulse!" A cutting beam reached from the starbase, towards the Musashi as the ship backed away. "90 degrees to starboard. Maximum warp, engage." 'I swear in the name of my great ancestor, the crusader George W. Bush, the space zombies will pay for this!' Capt Rice promised himself as the Musashi made its escape.

>

LOVE GUNS 2: OVERCOMPENSATING

An 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic by Sidewinder, 2006. Based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by Gene Roddenberry.

>

"To the GGV James T. Kirk. May she serve the Gonghe Republic with courage and honor." Capt Spock (retired) poured a cup of scotch into the dilithium chamber-- a ceremonial drink for the ship's spirit-- and closed the hatch. Gonghe government officials and military service members clapped, celebrating the christening of the Navy's newest heavy cruiser, as an orderly refilled the cup. "Thank you." Spock took the scotch bottle, surprising the orderly. The Vulcan drained the cup as he followed the visiting officials to the bridge.

"The James T. Kirk, a Li Xiaolong class assault cruiser, is 545 meters long and weighs 3,700,000 tons," a Navy lieutenant junior grade stated. "Based on the Akira class that served with distinction in the Dominion War, the design was lengthened to accommodate a heavy PENIS cannon and its power source, a matter/antimatter reaction assembly. The James T. Kirk's weapons pod mounts seven forward firing and one rear firing torpedo launchers, but it can be replaced with sensor, electronic warfare, or other mission pods. In addition, the James T. Kirk is armed with one hull mounted torpedo launcher, 12 Hedgehog mini-torpedo volley systems, 16 medium PENIS cannons in twin-gun turrets, and eight PENIS emitters. The hangar accommodates..."

Spock noticed the ship's dedication plaque. "I don't believe in the no-win scenario." The quote aroused an unfamiliar emotion. 'Nostalgia.' The Vulcan remembered the USS Enterprise's first five-year mission of exploration, when he and other officers aboard the ship were honored as heroes for fighting off the "evil masks"-- later identified as the Breen-- who attacked the Gonghe capital.

"Ahhhh! That hit the spot!" Capt Barry "Bazza" Bogan, Spock's "chauffeur," swaggered towards the Vulcan. "Hey, Spock-boy!" He raised a bottle of Yitian Beer in salute. "You think Kirk will live up to her name?"

"A ship is only as effective as her crew." Spock shook the bottle, listening to the remaining scotch swirl inside.

"Sir." The orderly poured the remaining scotch into the Vulcan's cup. He put the empty bottle in a food slot to be recycled and replaced by a fresh bottle, which he handed to Spock.

"Impressive efficiency." The Vulcan poured himself another drink as he turned to Bazza. "I believe the GGV James T. Kirk will honor the memory of my late friend."

"Good to hear! Hey, orderly!" Bazza shook the empty beer bottle, which the orderly replaced with a fresh one. "What's your next stop? That Leary station we passed on the way-- Cool Cat's?" Leary stations were commercial space stations where marijuana was grown-- Spock was prescribed the "herbal remedy" for his arthritis, and Bazza intended to get some marijuana for himself.

"A logical destination." The Vulcan approached the Gonghe Defense Minister, explained that he was leaving to pick up a prescription, and accepted a toast from the officials present. Spock's face was red from the alcohol consumed when he returned to Bazza's side. "To the Devil."

Bad news greeted the Vulcan when he transported aboard the USS Tasmanian Devil, an Akira class heavy cruiser under Bazza's command. "Sir, we received a priority message from Starfleet HQ: they want you to negotiate with the Borg for the return of Starbase 1337," Ensign Brigitte "Blondie" Bondi reported.

"You mean HQ wants us to retake the starbase. We'll need a lot more firepower than what we got on hand." Bazza shook the now empty beer bottle. "And I'll need a lot more beer before I get drunk enough to take on the Borg again."

"No, HQ wants us to peacefully negotiate with the Borg for the starbase's return," Blondie corrected.

"What?!"

"The Borg claimed they were refugees and asked the starbase commander for asylum. Under the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets, no Starfleet officer may deny the right of asylum to any sentient being who requests it."

"Fuck me!"

"Now?" Blondie shrugged and took off her shirt. "Aye aye." She unzipped Bazza's pants and put on a condom, pushed him onto a chair, and mounted him. Bazza, his face buried between Blondie's breasts, couldn't speak up to correct the ensign's mistake-- nor did he want to.

Spock calmly walked past the officers bouncing on the chair like rabbits in heat, towards Blondie's console, and read the files on Starbase 1337. "John Riehle... promoted to commander for negotiating a ceasefire with General Martok to end the Second Federation-Klingon War... Martok present was in actuality a changeling, and violated the ceasefire... He proved the Federation's willingness to adhere to the ceasefire by allowing General Martok to sodomize him and then performing fellatio to clean his feces off the general's phallus?" The Vulcan's right eyebrow rose-- he was unable to suppress his surprise at this detail. 'Starfleet's standards for selecting officers to be starbase commanders are significantly lower than I expected. If Jim...' Spock's head shook. 'Now is not the time for nostalgia.' He turned towards Bazza and Blondie. "Captain, set a course for the Leary station Cool Cat's." 'I am not doing this shit unless I have a sufficient supply of marijuana.'

"Gasp!" Bazza's head rose from Blondie's breasts to say, "Aye aye!" before the ensign buried it again.

>

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Capt Rice demanded.

Admiral Graham Kennedy tried to maintain his dignity by fighting back his tears, but this made him look like a man suffering from constipation. "C-Captain Rice, how d-dare you use s-such language with m-m-me! I'm p-putting this on your record! I d-demand th-that you apologize--"

"They are Borg! They came to ass-rape us! They claimed to be political refugees, hoping we'd be stupid enough to drop our pants for them! And we did!"

Adm Kennedy now looked like a man so constipated, his rectum was trying to expel his vertebral column. "I'm also r-r-reprimanding you for using p-p-politically offensive language. M-male homosexuals have the right to--"

Capt Rice terminated communications with the Admiral. "Captain Rice to Trigga'Happi," he called to his combadge.

"Trigga'Happi to Captain Rice."

"Captain Rice to Trigga'Happi, report to the bridge ASAP," as soon as possible. After the executive officer entered the bridge, Capt Rice said, "Commander Trigga'Happi, you have command. I'm retiring to my room."

"Yes, Sir," the Klingon male answered.

Capt Rice marched into his room, locked the door, and faced a communications console. "Computer, open secure channel Alpha One-Four dash Sierra Three-One, authorization Golf Niner-One-One Whiskey Two-Zero Bravo Zero-One."

A humanoid silhouette, framed by red light, appeared onscreen. "Report."

"Admiral Ass-Kisser," a nickname Adm Kennedy earned for the diplomatic and economic concessions he was willing to give for his pacifist ideals, "demands a diplomatic solution to the Borg occupation of Starbase 1337, as if he can talk the space zombies out of ass-raping the Federation."

The silhouette nodded. "Spock has been ordered to negotiate with the Borg for the starbase's return. I want you to protect Spock during negotiations."

"You want Spock to take care of the Borg while I sit with my thumb up my ass?"

"You are to protect Spock-- with lethal force if necessary-- against the Borg and their proxies, such as Borg sympathizers within the Federation."

"If I must fight Borg sympathizers within the Federation, I must hire mercenaries for support." Capt Rice transmitted a list of names and contact information.

"Can we trust these mercenaries?"

"We can trust them to do their job-- kill enemy combatants-- better than we can trust someone from Starfleet Headquarters."

"Very well." The silhouette transmitted an account number. "Remember, the Borg cannot be trusted-- they will attempt to assimilate Spock, you will be forced to order their destruction, and Spock will support your order as a logical one."

Capt Rice smiled. "Good plan."

"Execute it with extreme prejudice." The silhouette terminated communications.

>

The Musashi and ten mercenary vessels greeted the Devil as she reentered Federation space.

Bazza noticed two of the mercenary vessels were Constitution WANK class heavy cruisers whose navigational deflectors were replaced by heavy PENIS cannons. "Crickey, those things can destroy the Devil with one shot!"

"By my calculations, one shot from a heavy PENIS cannon is insufficient to destroy this ship," Spock corrected. "One shot followed by a volley of three photon torpedoes is sufficient."

"I hope those boys are on our side."

"Sir, the Musashi is hailing us," Blondie reported. Bazza pressed a button on the armrest's integral remote control to change the channel, putting Capt Rice onscreen.

"Mister Spock, this is Fleet Captain Global War on Terror Rice IX of the Miyamoto Musashi."

"Fuck me," Bazza whispered, "it's Cat O' Nine," a nickname Capt Rice earned for the strict discipline aboard his ships.

"We're here to escort you to Starbase 1337 for negotiations with the Borg," Capt Rice stated.

"Your offer is accepted," Spock answered. "I would rather the Federation not act in such a militaristic manner, but the proverb, 'It is better to have and not need than to need and not have,' holds truth."

Capt Rice smiled. "A man of ideas as well as ideals. I'm impressed, Mister Spock."

Blondie's monitor displayed data on the Musashi: the Gonghe Navy bought the stardrive section and connected it to a saucer section designed to land and support a mechanized infantry battalion, but high operations costs led the Navy to decommission the "assault ship" and sell her to the Federation. The Musashi received enhanced shield emitters, reactive armor plates, and a "spoiler" mounting two impulse engines and two PENIS emitters between the warp nacelles. "Scars" mounting PENIS emitters replaced the "pussy" phaser emitters and a heavy PENIS cannon replaced the navigational deflector-- records state the cannon was removed, but Blondie suspected the records were falsified, as the cannon power source was retained. The Musashi also mounted two additional torpedo launchers and 11 Hedgehogs-- six on the saucer's topside, two side-facing Hedgehogs on the neck connecting the saucer and stardrive sections, two on the saucer and stardrive's undersides, and a rear-facing Hedgehog on the spoiler. "Someone's overcompensating."

"There's no such thing as 'overcompensating' when facing the Borg," Bazza countered, remembering his own battles against the "space zombies." He wanted a heavy PENIS cannon for his own ship-- he was even willing to do without replicated beer and pretzels, as replacing the navigational deflector meant the ship needed enhanced shield emitters with gigantic energy requirements-- but Starfleet HQ turned down his request on the grounds that the weapon emitted deadly delta radiation, it was inhumane, and it wasn't needed for Starfleet's scientific and diplomatic missions. Spock had to personally plead his case before Starfleet HQ-- the Vulcan threatened to leak details on Adm Kennedy's affair with a 17-year-old cadet-- for money to pay a Gonghe armament company to mount eight Hedgehogs and four medium PENIS turrets on the Devil.

The fleet cruised to Starbase 1337, which the Borg rebuilt to resemble an elastrator, a castration instrument. "I don't like the look of this," Bazza said, his hand instinctively shielding his genitals.

"I agree despite all logic," Spock admitted, reaching for the Walther PPK automatic pistol under his coat. "Starbase 1337's post-assimilation appearance provokes fear in me. Nonetheless, we must perform our duty. Full power to shields, alert security teams, remain outside of Starbase 1337's transporter range." 'I will not allow myself to be ass-raped for diplomatic reasons.' "Hail them."

Cmdr Riehle, now assimilated, appeared onscreen. "I am T-1000 of Refugee Camp 1337. Your life, as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will provide humanitarian service to us."

"Commander Riehle--"

"The designation 'Commander Riehle' is obsolete. I am T-1000 of Refugee Camp 1337."

"Very well, T-1000. Starbase 1337 is a Starfleet installation. The Borg are unlawfully occupying an installation they are not authorized to use-- I believe the legal term is 'squatting'-- and must evacuate the installation and return any Starfleet personnel and property they have assimilated."

"The installation Refugee Camp 1337, the biological organisms and the technological artifacts aboard were donated as humanitarian aid to the Borg, under the orders of Commander John Riehle, in accordance to the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets."

"Commander Riehle--" "The designation 'Commander Riehle' is obsolete--" "Acted beyond the powers granted him by Starfleet. He was not authorized to surrender the installation and the personnel under his command--" "Resistance is in violation of the Constitution--" "If you need a planet to colonize, I can call for a colony ship and order her captain to transport the Borg to an uninhabited planet, but Starbase 1337 must be returned--" "By denying us the use of this installation, you are violating our constitutional rights. We will be filing a formal complaint to..."

The Vulcan was losing his emotional control, becoming angry at T-1000 the constant interruptions. "End communications with the Borg." Blondie complied. "Hail the Musashi," Spock ordered, followed by, "Captain Rice, it is my understanding that the Borg are using Commander Riehle's disarmament codes to nullify torpedo attacks from a Starfleet vessel. Will the mercenary vessels' weapons be effective against the assimilated starbase?"

"This is Captain Rice to Musashi Battle Group. Shock and Awe, Shock and Awe."

"Stop!" The MV The Freedom Fighter Osama bin Laden, an Excelsior class mercenary vessel, sailed in front of the Musashi from attacking Starbase 1337. It was pointless-- the Musashi's weapons weren't firing, but other mercenary vessels were. "You're violating the constitutional rights of sentient beings!" The bin Laden sailed in front of the MV Death Before Dishonor, a K't'inga WANK class mercenary vessel, and was hit by photon torpedo. "Eek!"

"Captain of the Death Before Dishonor to the Captain of The Freedom Fighter Osama bin Laden. Cease this nonsense or I'll shove my bat'leth so far up your ass, you'll cut your tongue on its blade!" the Klingon mercenary captain transmitted, shaking his honor sword at the viewscreen.

"Premature and excessive," Spock noted of Capt Rice's actions.

"Cease fire," T-1000 demanded as the mercenary vessels' awesome firepower overwhelmed the Borg's ability to adapt their defenses. "You are violating our constitutional rights. We will be filing a--" PENIS cannon fire destroyed the command center, silencing him.

"But ultimately necessary," the Vulcan added.

"This is Captain Rice to Musashi Battle Group. Cease fire, cease fire." The bombardment reduced the starbase to its space frame-- a burning skeleton. "Send security teams aboard Starbase 1337 to sterilize Borg infection and secure core facilities."

"That was fast," Bazza noted. "Let's head down to Risa and celebrate the mission's success."

Beep, beep! "Sir, we received a priority message from Starfleet HQ: the Borg have occupied Risa and captured Admiral Kennedy. HQ wants Mister Spock to negotiate with the Borg for the Admiral's return."

"Fuck me!"

"Do we have time for that?" Blondie asked.

"Spock-boy?"

The Vulcan looked over Blondie's shoulder to read the message. "Hail the Musashi."

"Mister Spock, I ordered Starbase 1337's sterilization because the Borg acted in a hostile manner," Capt Rice stated. "Please testify we acted in self-defense..."

"He's covering his ass," Blondie whispered.

"He's covering our asses too," Bazza whispered back. "I'm not letting the Borg ass-rape me for Admiral Ass-Kisser's sake, and I'm not letting Admiral Ass-Kisser ass-rape me for not letting the Borg ass-rape me."

"Captain Rice, the Borg have occupied Risa and captured Admiral Kennedy. Starfleet Headquarters has given Admiral Kennedy's safe return priority over Starbase 1337's recovery, and ordered us to travel to Risa and negotiate with the Borg. Time is vital-- logically, the starbase must be scuttled to prevent the Borg from using it as a staging area for attacks against our rear," Spock stated with suppressed anger. 'The kid gloves have been removed. It is time to kick the Borg's collective buttocks.'

"Yes, Sir." Capt Rice hailed the mercenary vessels, ordering them to recall the security teams before bombarding Starbase 1337 to subatomic particles.

"Fuck. I wonder if Captain Rice masturbates while firing off those cannons of his?" Blondie deadpanned.

Capt Rice wasn't masturbating to Starbase 1337's destruction, but Trigga'Happi was-- the Klingon's penis hammered the vagina of an Emergency Medical Hologram Mark IV as he watched the Shock and Awe on an overhead monitor. "Fuck yes!" Trigga'Happi roared as the holographic woman moaned.

"Captain Rice, set a course for Risa," Spock ordered. "Match speeds with the Musashi-- it is illogical to overtake our escort."

"Aye, Sir."

"That means we have 70 minutes before we get to Risa." Blondie unzipped Bazza's pants, put on a condom, and mounted him.

Spock sat down, lit a blunt, and inhaled deeply to savor the marijuana. "I am becoming too old for this excrement," he thought as Blondie and Bazza bounced like rabbits in heat beside him.

>

NO SUCH THING AS "OVERCOMPENSATING"

>

Adm Kennedy moaned in pain and pleasure as a drone sodomized him, pumping nanoprobes into the capillaries lining his intestinal wall. He felt the molecular disassembly of his cells as the nanoprobes rearranged them into mechanical components-- then blades extended from the drone's right hand to remove his testes and scrotum. "Ahhhh!" The pain of castration put him in shock, allowing the Borg Collective's hive mind to overwhelm his. A second drone attached a nanoprobe reservoir to the vas deferens as a third drone attached blades to the right hand-- Adm Kennedy was now an assimilation drone, programmed to sodomize other humanoids and inject nanoprobes into them.

The Borg Queen watched the new assimilation drone join the others in her command center, formerly an exclusive resort for Starfleet admirals. A former member of Species 180-- Ferengi, the most perverted species in the galaxy-- memories of a pornographic film depicting "pegging," a female using a strap-on dildo to anally penetrate a male, inspired her to develop the rapid assimilation process. "Status of Project 696's construction," she demanded.

"40%, estimated time of completion is 8.751 to 9.223 hours," a drone reported.

"Continue with the assimilation of the planet's population and order the newly activated drones, with the exception of assimilation drones, to accelerate Project 696's construction. We must be prepared when the oppressor arrives."

The Borg didn't detect a spyder-- a small four-legged robot-- trailing a cable into the room. 'Oh shit,' Fanboy cursed, watching images transmitted through the cable. A mercenary infamous for his brutal efficiency, Fanboy came to spend some "quality time" with a Risan female quartet he befriended-- he was fucking Risan One and French kissing Risan Two, who straddled Risan One's head so her tongue could reach into Risan Two's vagina, while Risans Three and Four sucked on each other's clitorises-- when Adm Kennedy interrupted the "Musical Horga'hn" radio broadcast to report a Borg "refugee ship" was detected in orbit, the Borg were given political asylum, and the people of Risa should treat the Borg with kindness and respect. Fanboy led the Risans to the Skullfucker, his Firespray class patrol ship, only to meet a Starfleet ensign who gave him a receipt-- to be redeemed in Federation credits-- for the ship they confiscated and donated to the Borg as humanitarian aid. After he broke the ensign's legs, Fanboy spent an hour seeking a way to evacuate his girlfriends and himself from the doomed planet. 'At least I don't have to hear Admiral Ass-Kisser's bitching.' He watched the Queen activate a hologram of drones disassembling Starfleet vessels-- part of the Risan Defense Perimeter before they were donated as humanitarian aid-- for parts to complete Project 696. 'That looks like a ship. Maybe...' He heard footsteps behind him and attached a sound suppressor to his MK23 Mod 1 automatic pistol.

"Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels detected." A drone reported the ships' locations and headings. "Configurations: Galaxy class battleship with structural modifications, one. Akira class heavy cruiser with structural modifications, one. Constitution WANK class heavy cruiser, two. Excelsior class heavy cruiser, one. D'deridex class assault ship with structural modifications, one. K't'inga WANK class battlecruiser, three. B'Rel WANK class cruiser, three. Assessment: Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels pose a moderate threat to the mission." Boom! The Queen took cover in her alcove as a photon torpedo collapsed the roof-- she exited the alcove to see the drone impaled upon a fallen rafter. "Correction: Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels pose a major threat to--" A second rafter spilled the drone's brain upon the floor, killing her.

'Maybe not.' Fanboy pushed his shield-- the assimilation drone he heard behind him, the head split in half by glass from a falling ceiling light-- off his chest. The mercenary looked through the hole in the ceiling to see two robots fly overhead. 'MS-09 Dominators. Height: 18.6 meters. Weight: 62.6 tons empty, 81.8 tons fully loaded. Armament: one chest-mounted PENIS emitter, 24 forearm-mounted chaff grenade launchers, one handheld Warthog torpedo volley system or light PENIS cannon, one power saber. I want one.'

The Queen's response to the sight was to hail the Musashi. "We are political refugees. You are violating our constitutional rights as sentient beings. Lower your shields and--"

>

Trigga'Happi answered the hail by firing a PENIS emitter through the hole in the command center ceiling, vaporizing the Queen's legs. "Shut the fuck up!" He allowed Haruka to return to her console while the Klingon returned to the captain's chair.

"How does it feel to strike down your enemies like Thor throwing his hammer?" Haruka asked.

"I'd feel better if Starfleet HQ allowed us to buy another squadron of mechanized strikers," Trigga'Happi answered, watching Capt Rice's MS-14S Gladiator lead the mercenaries' MS-09s in battle against the Borg.

>

The Risans and their guests, imprisoned within concentration camps guarded by assimilation drones, had mixed feelings towards the ex-Gonghe Army mechanized strikers flying overhead. "That one bears the Starfleet insignia! We're saved!" "Those robots--" "Mechanized strikers." "They're good for nothing but war, and war is good for nothing! Starfleet is not a military organization! It shouldn't display such militarism like those Gung-Ho," Gonghe, "firearms fetishists!" A MS-09 fired its Warthog-- two mini-torpedo launchers mounted over a full-sized torpedo launcher, loaded with 14 mini-torpedoes and two photon torpedoes-- at the guard towers flanking the concentration camp gate. "They just violated the constitutional rights of the concentration camp guards!" "Fuck the guards! We're free!" "We cannot leave! The Borg have asked us to donate our bodies to their Collective as humanitarian aid! As Federation citizens, we must--" An assimilation drone pushed the "donor" against a razor wire fence, pulled down his pants, and sodomized him-- the prisoner shouted, "Do not-- oh! Abandon-- ah! The Federation's ideals-- ow! We must-- ah! Respect the Borg's-- oh! Cultural practices-- ow!" as others stampeded out of the concentration camp.

>

Blue streaks rose from the resort, towards the orbiting ships. "Bogies, 25, Type 6, Type 7 shuttles." A MS-09 pilot reported their headings. "Antimatter warning-- it's in the shuttle cargo bays. Looks like the Borg converted them into Feng Shen," Wing Gods, obsolete Gonghe fighters converted into heavy torpedoes for long-range attacks. "Firing torpedoes." "Firing PENIS." The MS-09s shot down three shuttles before the others climbed out of range.

"Arm Hedgehogs! Lock on phasers! We must destroy the shuttles before they destroy us!" Trigga'Happi ordered.

"No!" the captain of the bin Laden as his ship sailed between the other ships and the incoming shuttles. "There are humanoid life forms aboard!"

"Borg drones detected aboard incoming shuttles," Haruka confirmed.

"I won't let you commit murder by attacking refugee ships!"

"What is this nonsense?! We have sensor data indicating they're carrying large quantities of antimatter!" Trigga'Happi stated.

"The sensor data must have been falsified, because it was transmitted by a lying, thieving mercenary! We--" Three Feng Shen rammed the bin Laden before detonating their warheads, vaporizing it.

"Hedgehogs Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten firing," Haruka reported as phaser and disruptor fire and mini-torpedo volleys intercepted the 19 remaining Feng Shen.

The mercenary captain's actions bewildered Trigga'Happi. "Why the fuck is Captain Moore so hostile towards mercenaries? He's a mercenary himself."

"According to our records, Captain Michael The Voice Of Truth Moore X served in Starfleet before immigrating to the Gonghe Republic and forming the Fahrenheit 9/11 Mercenary Company." The science officer handed a PADD to the Klingon, who pressed a button to play a recording of Capt Moore.

"The Gung-Ho Republic is a savage mob of sociopathic firearms fetishists who depend on lying, thieving mercenaries to maintain order by ruthlessly oppressing the poor, exploited citizens of their worlds!" the late mercenary captain ranted, mispronouncing the Republic's name.

'How does one oppress and exploit a savage mob of sociopathic firearms fetishists?' Trigga'Happi wondered.

"I will reform this capitalist, militaristic society, making it conform to the Federation ideals of communism and pacifism, by joining the Gung-Ho Navy to destroy that brutal, oppressive order from within!" The first recording ended-- a second showed a depressed Capt Moore cry, "How dare the Gung-Ho Navy reject me, a Starfleet officer, for failing a drug test?! As an outstanding citizen of the Federation, it is my duty take diacetylmorphine," heroin, "to suppress the negative emotions of greed, aggression, and jealousy, allowing me to submerge my own identity into the group consciousness to which I belong. Fortunately, Admiral Kennedy donated the USS Washington to support my efforts." Capt Moore's expression became maniacal. "I have renamed the ship in honor of a true freedom fighter, Osama bin Laden, erasing the shame of having a slave owner as a namesake-- I will become a mercenary myself and drive all other mercenaries out of business, forcing the Gung-Ho Republic to emancipate its poor, exploited citizens from the threat of violence!"

The Klingon returned the science officer's PADD. "Why the fuck did we hire him?"

"Considering the fact that Admiral Kennedy donated a ship to Captain Moore, it is possible the Admiral supported Captain Moore's efforts to reform the Gonghe Republic, and Captain Rice hired mercenaries based on recommendations from Starfleet officers without noticing who gave the recommendations."

Trigga'Happi retrieved his own PADD from his cargo pocket. "Note: advise Captain Rice not to accept Starfleet officers' recommendations at face value," he recorded.

>

Fanboy learned of the Feng Shen attack through the Skullfucker's communicator, which could intercept and decrypt Starfleet transmissions. On one hand, he couldn't hijack a shuttle and fly his girlfriends and himself off Risa-- as a mercenary, he knew the others now viewed all shuttles departing Risa as potential threats, and would shoot first, ask questions later. On the other hand, the fact that his ship forwarded the intercepted transmission to his helmet-mounted communicator suggested it was still functional, and he could fly the Skullfucker to safety. He quietly stepped around fallen rafters and Borg corpses, towards the weather control station where his girlfriends were.

"Halt! Who goes there?" female voices demanded, aiming Thompson M1928 submachine guns at him.

"The monster cock that's going in your tight pussies," the mercenary answered.

"Oh, Fanboy!" The Risans lowered the guns and rubbed their breasts against his arms and legs after he entered the station.

"Hush, Girls. I have a plan to get us out of here. We have to sneak into the Borg command center, dodging both Borg drones and trigger-happy MS," mechanized striker, "pilots to get to my ship. It's risky, but--"

"We trust you." "We know you'll protect us." "We'll follow you to hell and back." "Let's get out of here so we can go back to fucking!"

"Good girls."

>

Two drones operated on their Queen, replacing the legs she lost to phaser fire. A third approached her to report, "Project 696's propulsion systems are complete. Weapons arrays are 57.46% complete, shield emitters are 56.34% complete-- they will provide complete coverage of the bow and port side, partial coverage of the starboard side and the dorsal and ventral surfaces, and no coverage of the stern."

"Time is critical. Load the uninstalled components aboard Project 696 for later installment. Evacuate the command center and launch Project 696 once I am--" The Queen watched the drone's head explode. "Who dares?"

Fanboy's sound-suppressed MK23 sent a SLAP-- saboted light armor penetrator-- into each drone's head, killing them. "Don't mind us, we're just passing through." He stepped past the command center entrance, stepped backwards, and stared at the Queen. "Do I know you?" The mercenary aimed at a bar of gold-pressed latinum hanging from a golden chain around the Queen's neck. "You're Liquidator Brunt!"

"The designation 'Liquidator Brunt' is obsolete--"

"That's no excuse for cheating me of my pay!" Fanboy kicked the transsexual Ferengi's kneecap, broke the leg in half, and took the latinum.

"How dare you? I am Borg! Return the latinum or--" The Queen felt Fanboy's steel-toed boot impact her forehead, slamming her against the floor.

"Fanboy?"

"Coming, Girls." He led the Risans to an underground theater-- scene of the Starfleet admirals' orgies, now the assembly site for Project 696-- and found the Skullfucker buried under a pile of scrap metal, ignored because the Borg couldn't assimilate the extra-galactic technology in the ship. 'No wonder I couldn't remote control it-- the scrap metal was fucking with my transmissions. What?! Motherfucking space zombies scratched the paint! I'll have their hides for this!' Fanboy began clearing away scrap metal piled in front of the Skullfucker's ramp. When the assembly site guards approached the ship, the mercenary threw the scrap metal at the Borg, dismembering, disemboweling, and decapitating the unlucky drones. 'I feel better now.'

"Are you okay, Fanboy?" "I hope you didn't hurt your back with all that heavy lifting." "Yeah! I wanna ride your cock until I explode, and I cannot do that if your back is hurt!"

"I'm fine." The mercenary smiled to reassure the Risans as the ramp lowered.

"What are those things? Why are they glowing?" Risan One pointed at two orifices on Project 696's stern.

Fanboy stopped smiling when he identified the orifices as impulse drives. "Go, go, go!" He slapped each Risan's buttocks as the females boarded the Skullfucker, and sprinted to the cockpit. The ramp automatically rose behind the mercenary, separating him from the superheated plasma shooting from Project 696's orifices.

>

Capt Rice aimed his Warthog at the Borg vessel rising from the resort's burning ruins, but confusion stayed his hand. "What in hell is that?!"

"Sensors show the ship is armed with multi-kinetic neutronic mines. The design is apparently a Borg minelayer vessel modified with technology from a Species 8472 bioship, but I do not understand why it was structurally modified to resemble a marital aid," the science officer transmitted.

Project 696 was based on the minelayer the Borg planned to use against Species 8472, the multi-kinetic neutronic mines modified so the blast would spread enhanced nanoprobes across entire star systems. The Borg Queen ordered it modified to resemble a blow-up doll to intimidate the average Starfleet officer and deter attacks.

Capt Rice wasn't an average Starfleet officer-- he felt insulted by the sight of a giant blow-up doll. "Fire at will!" The robots formed an anvil, the orbiting ships formed a hammer, and their combined firepower began beating the shit out of Project 696.

The Queen expressed no fear, ignoring the armor plates blown off Project 696 as the vessel rose into orbit. "Lock on the Starfleet-Romulan-Klingon vessels." Tractor beams locked on the Devil, the D'deridex class warbird, a K't'inga WANK class battlecruiser, and two B'Rel WANK class birds-of-prey as panels on Project 696's "nipples" opened to reveal 14 gravimetric torpedo launchers. "Fire!"

"Fire Hedgehogs!" Four panels on the battlecruiser and two panels on each bird-of-prey opened to allow the Hedgehogs function as designed: fire mini-torpedoes in all directions to intercept incoming torpedoes.

"Arm the Hydra." Eight panels on the warbird opened to reveal Hedgehogs modified to fire Romulan torpedoes. "Fire." 'We were fortunate to serve under Admiral Shinzon during the Dominion War-- a Romulan would never have authorized the purchase of this weapon,' the Reman mercenary captain thought.

Bazza gave a similar order. "Arm Hedgehogs! Fire!"

"Captain, we received a prefix code! It's lowered our shields and disarmed our weapons!" Blondie reported.

"The Borg must have assimilated a Starfleet admiral and retrieved the code from his or her memory," Spock noted.

"Fuck me!" Bazza cursed, watching an incoming gravimetric torpedo onscreen.

"I might as well get one last orgasm." Blondie unzipped Bazza's pants.

Boom! Bazza's eyes reopened to see static clouding the viewscreen. "We're still alive?"

The static cleared to show a Constitution refit class heavy cruiser dive in front of the Devil. "Good news, Mister Spock! The new spoiler smoothes out the ride, increasing the Enterprise Senior's warp and sublight velocities-- and it looks handsome mounted between the warp nacelles!" Capt Montgomery Scott (retired) hailed.

"I am grateful for your assistance, Mister Scott," Spock said.

"Can you also assist us in deleting the fucking prefix code so we can get our fucking shields and weapons back?" Bazza added.

"Press and hold 'Control,' 'Alt,' 'Delete' to restart the computer," Scotty answered.

"Just like that?!"

Project 696's "legs" opened. "The Borg vessel is arming mines," Haruka warned.

"Shock and Awe! Don't let the Borg vessel lay mines!" Trigga'Happi ordered.

PENIS cannon and torpedo fire interrupted the Queen’s protests. "We-- political refugees. You-- violating-- constitutional rights-- beings. Lower-- shields-- donate-- ships-- humanitarian aid."

"Who are they refugees from, anyways?" Bazza wondered.

"It is possible the Borg falsely claimed to be refugees," Spock began.

A bioship suddenly appeared above Project 696. "Contact, one, Species 8472--" Haruka watched the ship transform into a giant robot. "What in hell?!"

The giant robot drew two sabers-- the blades burned red as the cutting mechanisms were activated-- and slashed. Like swordsmen in Chinese martial arts films who projected qi as long-range attacks, the robot's shields extended to cut Project 696 to pieces.

"It is also possible the Borg are, in fact, refugees who abused the Federation's policies on granting political asylum and providing humanitarian aid," Spock finished.

As the robot faced the mercenary vessels, his appearance bewildered the Reman mercenary captain. "Admiral Shinzon?"

"I am Jean-Luc Picard, a former member of Starfleet, a former citizen of the United Federation of Planets," the robot declared. "The Borg Collective kidnapped me, violated my mind and body by assimilating me, violated my soul by making me act against my principles. Those who claim to be New Humans mutilated the Federation for which I was willing to give my life-- they are traitors who abandoned the founding principles of the Federation, and who abandoned me to the Collective. Now I am free of the Collective, free of the physical and mental restraints preventing me from exacting revenge." He raised a saber in salute. "I must destroy the Borg and their New Human collaborators to save the Federation! Strength in honor! Honor in victory!" The robot transformed to bioship mode and disappeared.

"What the fuck was he talking about?" Trigga'Happi echoed the thoughts of everyone in the battle group.

"I don't know, but I want his MS," Capt Rice said.

Blondie heard an alarm as the Devil's computer restarted, canceling the prefix code's effects. "Captain, we received a priority message from Starfleet HQ: a giant robot is attacking the Ba'ku settlement. HQ wants us to negotiate with the giant robot--"

"Tell Starfleet Headquarters our ship is severely damaged and we cannot comply. I no longer have the tolerance for this excrement." Spock turned to the replicator. "Tortilla chips, nacho cheese and jalapeno pepper slices covered, hot." He took the plate of nachos to his chair, lit a blunt, and inhaled deeply to suppress the emotions aroused today.

>

FIREARMS FETISHISTS

>

"IKS Lukara's Honor to unidentified vessel. You are entering Klingon space. Halt and identify yourself or we will destroy you."

"Bai'Ku'Rios, baby! It's me, Fanboy!" The alarm fell silent-- the Vor'cha class attack cruiser no longer targeted the Skullfucker-- as a Klingon female appeared onscreen.

"Fanboy! What the fuck have you been doing?" Colonel Bai'Ku'Rios asked, smiling.

"I was spending some quality time with some Risans when the Borg attacked. Mind if I hitch a ride to Qo'noS so Hemi can fix my ship?"

"Only if those Risan females enjoy the taste of a Klingon female's vaginal lubrication." Bai'Ku'Rios' eyes burned with lust as she stared at the Risans seated behind Fanboy.

"She looks hot," Risan Four whispered to Risan Three. "Totally-- I won't mind licking her pussy," Risan Three whispered back.

"Sure! Let us in and we'll join you in the shower." Fanboy saw the attack cruiser's shuttlebay doors open, and piloted the Skullfucker aboard the Lukara's Honor.

>

"Ahhhh! My balls! Where are my balls?!"

"The Admiral has regained consciousness," a medic reported.

Adm Kennedy found himself in a field hospital set up near a smoking crater where the resort once stood. Not that he'd recognize it-- the Borg demolished most buildings on Risa to recycle the construction materials, reducing homes to holes in the ground. The Musashi saucer section was parked nearby, two ramps lowered to deploy mechanized strikers, self-propelled artillery, infantry fighting vehicles, and infantry. "Where are my balls?"

"The Borg removed your testes and scrotum, replacing them with a nanoprobe reservoir when they assimilated you. Don't worry, I have friends in Gonghe who'll provide clone replacements for 15 bars of latinum," the medic answered.

"Clone replacement?"

"You order a clone of yourself, which is kept in stasis until you need replacement organs-- then a doctor will harvest the clone's organs and implant them into you."

"That's murder!"

"Legally, a clone in stasis has the same legal rights as an unborn fetus-- you won't be prosecuted for aborting the fetus or killing the clone."

"A clone is p-potentially a sentient b-b-being! By exploiting th-the clone for replacement organs, you're v-v-violating the c-constitutional rights--"

Capt Rice kicked Adm Kennedy's cot, making the eunuch cry. "Get your head out of your ass! The Borg were violating Federation citizens and their constitutional rights! Stop sucking the Borg's collective dicks like they're the victims!"

"H-how d-d-dare you? C-captain Rice, you will b-b-be court m-martialed you for your use of h-homophobic--" Nine 7.65 x 17 mm rounds were fired into Adm Kennedy's head and chest, killing him.

The shooter's speed and stealth surprised Capt Rice, who instinctively drew and aimed two .44 Magnum revolvers in the shooter's direction. "Mister Spock?"

The Vulcan reloaded his PPK and waved his hand in front of the medic's eyes. "The Borg installed self-destruct charges in drones assimilated after 2377-- a failsafe to prevent drones that have left the Collective from becoming a threat, such as Seven of Nine, alias Annika Hansen. You were unaware of the failsafe's existence, and cannot be held accountable for Admiral Kennedy's death. Please inform the medical teams of this danger, Doctor."

"Yes, Sir." The medic repeated Spock's words to his combadge, as if he was hypnotized.

"Neat trick."

Spock holstered the now useless PPK-- Capt Rice's tactical suit protected him from the bullets-- and faced the human. "I have helped you by executing Admiral Kennedy and altering the witness' memories so you will not be prosecuted for his death-- you will not be court martialed for your conduct in negotiations with the Borg, and you will remain in command of the Musashi. Now you will help me."

"Help you?"

"You were given financial support to hire the mercenaries who comprised the Musashi Battle Group. You expected testimony and evidence-- possibly falsified-- to deter prosecution for your use of militaristic means of ending this crisis, instead of the diplomatic means demanded by Starfleet Headquarters. I assume you have the support of powerful individuals within the Federation, possibly Section 31. I want your supporters to support me as well."

Capt Rice heard footsteps behind him and kept one revolver aimed at Spock as the second revolver was aimed rearwards, forcing Scotty to freeze. "For what reason?"

"I want to be President of the United Federation of Planets so I may restore the principles that made the Federation a great power, principles the crew of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701 were willing to give their lives for-- principles denounced by the New Humans, resulting in these 'Dark Ages' where the constitutional rights of our enemies are protected at the expense of the rights of our citizens. Individuals will again be free to express-- or suppress-- their individual emotions instead of being forced to submerge their own identities into the New Humans' group consciousness, and I will again be free to smoke a blunt without having a New Human complain that the marijuana smoke is contaminating the air in his personal space."

Capt Rice smiled, holstering his revolvers. "A man of ideas as well as ideals. You have my support, and will likely have the support of my supporters. I'll contact them now." He marched towards the Musashi's saucer.

Scotty ran to his friend. "Are ye really going to go through with this plan, Mister Spock?"

"It is the most logical course of action," the Vulcan answered.

"And the legalization of marijuana?"

"It is also logical, considering marijuana's medical uses."

Scotty smiled and put his arm around Spock's shoulders. "Well, ye got my vote!"

>

Not the end.

Li Xiaolong, "Li the Little Dragon," was Bruce Lee's stage name. His namesake does to enemy warships what Bruce Lee did to enemies in his films: beat the shit out of them.

Unlike the Borg's converted shuttles, Gonghe military Feng Shen have no humanoid pilots.

Haruka is based on a character created by Takeuchi Naoko. Mechanized strikers are based on mobile suits from 'Mobile Suit Gundam'-- created by Tomino Yoshiyuki and Sunrise-- adapted for 'Star Trek' technology and renamed because "Gelgoog" is a stupid name for a killing machine.

[Darth Fanboy]

To Commemorate the 40,000th view.

UPF 40K PREVIEW

Due to the creative bankruptcy of the writing staff and the use of not so clever plot devices, the crew of UPF travels trhough time. After an incident involving tabletop gaming, a fistfight, and the spilling of bongwater on an important control panel. The crew hurtles trhough time towards the year 40,000...

"Greetings Travellers. Praise be upon Highest of Holy Terra and the Emperor's blessed throne that you survived your travels trhough space. I am Inquisitor Dyodrich Melkior of the Ordo Xenos."

"Uhhhhh ok. Hey can you give me a second?" Shep said.

THe inquisitor, confused at the odd request, grranted it. Shep and the others huddled and whispered in silence.

"Jesus Fuck Falk, we're stuck in the fucking Imperium!"

"I told you! If those fucking Games Workshop-Fellating motherfuckers really wanted to, their collective fanwank would actually give rise to a fucking Emperor! 38,000 years of fanwank later and we're stuck in one of the most horrible dystopias humankind has ever fucking concieved!"

"I want a pet Ork." mused Fanboy.

"Listen, we need to fix the time machine to get us back, but we might as well make something out of this shit."

The Inquisitor looked on as the three temporally displaced smut peddlers thought up a plan of action. They conferred for about two minutes before Shep turned back towards Melkior with a grim look on his face.

"Listen, Inquisitor, it is a good thing we found you. We need your help."

"As much as I would like to help a fellow member of my exalted species praise be to His Majesty the God Emperor and the Golden throne upon Holiest Terra..."

"Yea yeah," Shep said with the wave of his arm. "Listen, we're sort of like, well y'know..."

"We like to exterminate filthy non humans just as much as you." Falk said, backing up his ill-spoken partner. "You see, our timeline is being overran by filthy aliens."

The Inquisitor looked shocked and concerned. "Flithy xenos? In the past?"

Shep grinned, knowing that he had an easy mark. "Yeah, you see we're under terrible attack by an evil species known as the Gnomes."

The Inquisitor narrowed his eyes. "I have never heard of these, 'gnomes' before. Tell me, what do they look like?"

Fanboy stepped in, his bloodshot eyes widening and his hands gripping as if he was strangling an invisible gnome. "They appear human, but they're actually horrible horrible tiny little hatfuckers. They stab people...IN THE TAINT."

"Oh! You mean the Squats!" The Inquisitor said, his question answered. HE rubbed his giant chin with his hand and adjusted his hat. "We haven't heard from them in some time. IF they're trying to destroy the timeline, this could be bad news."

"We're doing the best we can," Shep chimed in, cutting right to the point. "But we don't have the weapons needed to butcher them wholesale like they deserve. If only we had better equipment we could save humanity for all time."

"I think I can help you with that." The Inquistor said.

They walked down through the hallways of the Ordo Xenos battleship Eldat Planet BArbecue until they reached a heavily guarded area with thick armored doors. The Inquisitor opened the doors and Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy's jaws nearly dropped to the floor as they gazed in awe at the armory.

"You may help yourselves to whatever you can fit aboard your time travelling craft." said Melkior.



Author's Note: This is all preview material which is subject to change during the actual composing of the UPF40K Chapter, this preview is brought to you by UPF's chief sponsors. Violent Fetish Products Inc, ExploitedRussianHookers.Com, Endangered Species Murdering Travel Agency, Wal Mart, and "Viewers Like You."