After another brief bout with everybody's favorite French Canadian, Transcend classified Paul Jacques as
an entirely new breed of idiot, so stupid that the potency of it can actually be measured.

Kynes soon followed up this bit of information with the concept of the Bozon, a new SI unit, measuring stupidity.

Iceberg took a cue for that and created the term microJacques, a measure of the strength of a stupidity field.

It blew up from there.

Paul is appairently an entirely new breed of idiot. This new breed of
idiot (with Paul appairently being the first) is more powerful and more
unstable then any idiot previously produced. The proof of this can be
found in his many postings. In keeping with the fine Star Trek
tradition of all things new and dangerous being called Quantum (Quantum
Torpedoes, Quantum Singularities, Quantum Slipstream Drive, etc...) I
hereby label Paul as a Quantum Idiot. One must of course be cautious
around Paul as he is likely to suffer an extremely powerful cranial
implosion (due to the hard vaccum inside of his skull instead of grey
matter). While his extraordinarily think skull has held up against the
pressure for some time, I feel that it is likely to crack soon leading
to a massive implosion. Anyone near Paul during this time may suffer
massive injuries do to the powerful effects of the cranial implosion of
this Quantum Idiot. Go near him at extreme risk.

This has been a public service announcement from the Society Against
the Ethical Treatment of Paul.


I hereby christen the "bozon" as the SI unit of stupidity.


I hereby christen the "microJacques" as the SI unit of stupidity field strength.

> I hereby christen the "microJacques" as the SI unit of stupidity
> field strength.

"Talk to me, Frosty, talk to me." Boyd gripped his pulse rifle with one
hand, bible clenched in the other. Beside him, the Iceberg 3000 operator
rattled off the numbers scrolling down his indicator screen.
"30 meters, man. 29. Closing."
Behind them, bringing up the rear, was Colonel Paulsen with his plasma
thrower. He was speaking into his mike. "Hey Poe, any of your men i
D-Block?" Pause. "We may have a situation."
Kynes, the smartgun operator, hefted his weapon tighter to his body.
He'd never gotten that chummy with Boyd before, but knew his teammate's
abilities - between them, they usually managed to cut down any troll.
The comm unit crackled. "This is Transcend. Paulsen, do you hear me?
What is the situation?" For once the colonel didn't even smirk at their
obviously green commander. He keyed his comm and spoke into it tensely.
"Sir, looks like a contact up ahead. Stupidity field approaching one
hundred twenty microJacques... range, 23 meters."
There was crackling in the background. Paulsen rolled his eyes.


Pablo hefted his pulse rifle and slowly looked from side to side.
Paulsen knew what he was doing.  But dealing with a troll that had a
hundred and twenty microJacques... the trolls he'd faced in Operation
Spacebattles hadn't been much more than eighty, and they were damned
dangerous.  He'd memorized the microJacques chart.  At 120 mJs, you had
what amounted to a rainbow-trout with language skills and a nasty
temper.  He didn't want to face one of them with a pulse rifle.  He
envied Kynes his smartgun.

He swept his helmet light around the hallway twice.

Pablo grimaced and spoke into the comm.  "It's clean, sir.  Something
ain't right.  If this is a 120 we're talkin about, he'd have hit us by
now.  You sure he's coming this way, Ice?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."


The rapid fire muzzle flashes of the pulse rifle lit up the dark
corridor like a strobelight.  A shadowy figure charged through the hail

of metal.  Pablo backpedaled as fast as he could, and cursed as the
rifle's magazine ran dry.

Pablo Sanchez

Iceberg cursed as well, shouldering his railgun.  The 10mm slugs
would balloon to a fist-sized exit wound and delivered enough
energy to drop an elephant at ten paces.

He hoped it would be enough to make a difference against the
troll.  Grabbing the portable bozon field analyzer, he bolted
from the room, toward the sounds of the battle.  80
microJacques... already a dangerous field and it would only get
stronger as he approached the combatants...


He heard a voice come in over the radio, "This is Kyle. You need any
help? I'm all alone, but it looks like you could use some more
firepower, and my MI battle suit should provide plenty of it. Give me a
bacon to home in on and I'll be down in five seconds. Kyle out."

Kyle Knopf

Dalton grunted with effort as he tried to counteract the effects of the
bozon field. He faintly heard the crackle of the radio as Kyle offered
his help, but he couldn't motivate himself to call his friends into the
battle. His battle... The sheer intensity of the field threatened to
permanently scramble all rational thought, and as the microJacques
indicator pegged, his will crumbled. With his last conscious effort, he
flung himself down a ridge to his left, hoping that his momentum would
carry him out of range of the field before his thought processes were
completely fried. He hit the ground and blacked out, sliding for a good
forty meters downhill.


>He heard a voice come in over the radio, "This is Kyle. You need
>any help? I'm all alone, but it looks like you could use some 
>more firepower, and my MI battle suit should provide plenty of 
>it. Give me a beacon to home in on and I'll be down in five 
>seconds. Kyle out."

Iceberg set down the homing beacon and grinned.  Soon the troll
would get a taste of MI firepower.

He just hoped the MI didn't forget that the rest of the team
didn't have anti-rad gear.

*Meter's spiking at one-twenty now...*

Iceberg shouldered his railgun and opened fire on the troll.  It
didn't kill the troll outright, but the impact of the slugs blew
it off of Sanchez, allowing the slightly battered but otherwise
unharmed soldier to recover his firearm.


Kyle fell straight down. He was directly over the beacon, and had just
jettisoned his last chute. With only a few second to go his jump jets
kicked in and set him down relatively gently. He saw Iceberg and Pablo,
duking it out with some minor trolls. It was always that way. Whenever a
new troll "Boss" moved in he gathered together all the minor trolls to
serve as guards, and decoys. As they moved in closer to the boss the
trolls would become stronger and more numerous. For now though he picked
off the trio of trolls closing in on Iceberg and Pablo. The first troll
was sliced in half by a particle beam, he took out the second with a
precision laser strike right through what passed as a brain in a troll.
The third he decided to take out upclose and personal. He grabbed the
troll with his hand, breaking most of the bones in the trolls arm, and
just held it there for a second before disemboweling it with his other
hand. Blood and gore splattered everywhere.

He smiled, "Damn that was fun. Now lets go find the boss man himself."

Kyle Knopf

Boyd got on the radio. "That's the plan Kyle, but first we better call in
Black Squad"

"Do you think that's neccessary?"

"Yes. We'll need all the firepower we got"

Boyd radioed the shuttle. "Black Squad, track our signal and join up"


Suddenly, Kynes' scanner started pinging. He looked at it, and his face
betrayed shock. "Oh SHIT! There're dozens more trolls attacking! Readings
off the scale!"

Then they could here them coming, the sound, the horrible sound.

"OK, boys, get ready!"

The boss troll had spawned even more trolls, and they were on a rampage
though the building. The troops all stood ready behind cover.

The trolls came in a huge wave. Everybody opened up on the trolls at once
with everything they had.

Many trolls fell, but, the Cleaners' guns ran out of ammo, and had to be
reloaded. That was when the trolls broke through the line. Several puonced
on Sanchez, then Kynes and Iceberg. Then Boyd.

The trolls were slowly wearing away at their intelligence, making stupid.
Boyd did not know how they were going to get out of this.

Then, like the sound of a chainsaw, a loud ripping noise cut through the

In one swoop a score of trolls fell. What looked like four huge droids had
appeared in the cave. They resembled the Dark Trooper combat droids. They
had dark gray armor, and on their right arms was a GAU-8 Avenger 30mm cannon.
However, they weren't droids. Inside each of them was a man: Nathan
'Enforcer' Yates, Mark 'Howling Mad' Sheppard, Phong 'Mr Mallet' Nguyen, and
LT. 'I'm a psycho and I love it' Hit-Man.

They were Black Squad, the heaviest-hitters of the Cleaners. Their armor
also had plenty more weapons.

Black Sqaud, along with the rest of the Cleaners, wiped out most of the
attacking wave in moments. Phong had developed a weird ray that would
preserve a person's intelligence if attacked by a troll, so each of Black
Squad projected it on each team memmber being swarmed by trolls. Then they
simply ripped the trolls off of them, and each one was usually either
squeezed like an over-ripe tomato or stomped on like a bug.

After five minutes, the stampede had been stopped. Boyd, Sanchez, Kynes, and
Iceberg took a few minutes to recover.

The Cleaners were all doing weapons checks, and making a head count when...

"Wait! Where's Dalton?"

They all started to search the area.

Kyle said: "There! He's down here!" He was indicating this hole in the
ground. Iceberg and Bjorn went down the hole and came out carrying the
semiconsious form of Rob Dalton.


Transcend looked at the sensor reading from the battle. Something was
no quite right, he could sense it. He drew upon the, it
can't be! He initiated a low level particle sweep, more intensive then
normal scans, there it was, staring at him the whole time. Transcend
activated his comlink, "Somehow those trolls set up an artificial bozon
field generator down there, and a holomatrix stolen from the filthy
Federation. You've been fighting holographic trolls, repeat, you've
been fighting holographic trolls. I have pinpointed the location of the
real trolls, they are headed for MY location, repeat MY location. All
units converge, ALL UNITS..." <static>


As usual Chris was sleeping a dozen clicks away, completly unaware of all
hell breaking lose.

That was, until a PLX-M2 concussion missile that had been launched from of
the the *Dark Squad* troopers and gone off target blasted into the ground 30
meters away.

'What in the sith...'

Chris O'Farrell

The clang of boots striking metal reverberated through the corridor as
Paulsen's squad raced back towards the command center. "Go go go go go!"
Paulsen shouted, running almost in a crouch to maintain balance. Taking
the point, Iceberg scowled. He didn't want to think about what was
happening right now to his commander.
They burst into the command center and halted, staring. The place was a
mess. At least nine trolls lay here, their corrosive blood sizzling on
the floor, their huge bodies giving off clouds of vile stench. Boyd
bit back an oath as he failed to find the commander. Kynes nodded
grimly. Though he was pretty green - only two combat drops - Transcend
had made a good accounting of himself.
Paulsen snapped out his extended transciever. "Operator! Is Transcend
alive?" "Yeah. They're moving him." "I need a fix on him."
Poe came through the door, halted, shook his head. "Shit, man. Who did
"Transcend, with a handgun." Boyd made a face. "These are all low
ranking trolls, I'd guess they're Cadet type, not more. They must have
been used as living shields by their bosses."
Paulsen swore into the transciever, then hung up. "SHIT! Seems like they
have him in an old Weyland-Yutani atmospheric processor." He took a
calming breath. "Awright, I don't like the brass any more than you do,
but I think this one did okay. Anyone who wants to come with me and get
him out can come. Who wants to kick ass?"


Transcend was in pain. He was chained to the chair with handcuffs and a
troll wearing an Armani suit was leaning over him, injecting something
into carotid artery. Another troll, also in a suit, was standing by the
far side of the room, which was dominated by a computer screen showing
a giant browser window. The homepage it showed was no less than
"Have you ever been in there... watched it? Marvelled at its...
beauty... its... genius?" The troll turned around, and finally Transcend
managed to fit a name to that face, despite the Raybans. He was known as
Alyeska, a high-ranking troll. Alyeska continued. "Did you know that the
first Spacebattles was designed to be a perfect place, where none was
illogical... and... everyone would be happy; it was a disaster, entire
arguments were lost. People thought we trolls lacked the debating skills
to win any of your arguments." He walked closer. "But I believe the
rational argumenters define their reality through flames and insults,
and so Spacebattles was redesigned into this - the joke of our
His little speech finished, Alyeska nodded to the other troll. "Take him
to the breeding grounds. My lord, He Whose Name Shall Never Be Spoken,
will want another host for his children."
Unceremoniosly, Transcend was dragged away into the bowels of the
atmospheric processor.


> Unceremoniosly, Transcend was dragged away into the bowels of the
> atmospheric processor.

It took all his skills with the force to even survive the torture the
trolls have put him through. In the end he had passed out. Transcend
looked around but all he could see was darkness. He reached out with
the force, yes he was alone in the room, but there were two guards on
the door. "Damnit!", he swore, "they found my hold out blaster." He had
been sure he had clouded their weak minds enough to keep it hidden. But
then he HAD been out cold for who knows how long. Three broken ribs,
maybe four. He had seen the horrible, that wretched
hive of scum. Somehow, he had to get back in there, and stop them from
bringing their most powerful weapon online, the Quantum Idiot.


Kyle stepped up in his MI armor, with the Roughneck insignia on his left
shoulder and the cleaner sign on his right shoulder and just stood there
and readied all weapons. They was no need for him to speak it was
obvious from his face that he was ready to go.

Kyle Knopf

Pablo glanced jealously at Kyle in his MI Armor, then scowled at the
common pulse rifle in his hands.  He preferred to get some better guns
to go after a troll as dangerous as a 120.  He walked over to the

He shrugged out of his Colonial Marine gear, revealing black clothing.
He put on a hooded black cloak, and pulled a short cylinder out of the
armory compartment.  He ignited the lightsaber, grinning as the long
bronze shaft extended from it.  He let the force flow through him,
alerting the senses, hardening the muscles.

The trolls would soon know the full and awful power of the dark side.

Pablo Sanchez

Iceberg pulled a caller from his belt and pressed the button.  A
very large motorcycle rolled up and he straddled it, then pressed
a button.  The motorcycle shifted and transformed into a
miniature assault mecha, three meters tall and armed to the
proverbial teeth with rocket packs, miniguns and its main weapon,
a miniaturized beam rifle.  He clamped the beam rifle into its
storage position and pulled out one of the four disposable beam
sabres mounted on the back of the mecha's shield.  Each sabre had
enough gas for five minutes of continuous use.

"Let's get some, guys!"


With a well oiled *ka-click* Paulsen cocked his doubled barreled
tungsten bore CAW and placed it beside the rest of his arsenal. His hand
darted to the controls on his left wrist, found a button, pressed it. A
hazy field sprang up, temporarily obscuring him, then cleared. He
smirked. 'Got shields,' he thought, 'got plasma rifle, got railgun,
thermal detonators, sharp sticks... yeahhh!!'


Dalton awoke in a fit of coughing, phlegm choking his throat.
He buckled down and reached into his throat with his fingers,
pulling out a mass of mucus mixed with blood and...something
else. He flung it to the far wall, where it made a nice *splat*. 
Dalton looked around. From the looks of it, he was in the Infirmary,
though he didn't remember why or how. He tried to think of what
had happened, then almost passed out again from the pain coursing
through his mind. A true oddity; the human brain couldn't sense
pain. It was totally illogical.

Suddenly, he remembered. He remembered the bozon field, the
readings of nearly 130 microJacques as he approached the highest
concentration of stupidity to date. He remembered the idiocy
trying to penetrate his brain, and from the bruises on his body
he remembered the tumble down the slope. But why was he here?

From somewhere distant came the sounds of battle: clangs,
blasts, the occasional boom. Memories swam back. Dalton vaguely
recalled the concerned faces of Bjorn, of Pablo...he had tried to
open his mouth, to speak, but he had lost all motor functions. He
rubbed his neck, glancing at the spot on the wall where he had
flung whatever it was that was blocking his throat...and was
shocked to see a significant part of it gone.

Specifically, the part that was unrecognizable to him.

He frowned. Surely, the trolls would have had implanted a new
larva into the host only at their base so that said host didn't
escape...but why had they let him go?

He remembered the coughing fit that had awakened him.

It could only mean one thing.

They were after the leader.

With a great effort, Dalton dug through whatever items were
left in the room and located a radio. He spoke frantically into

"This is Dalton. Warning. There is a troll larva loose in the
base. Repeat. There is a troll larva loose in the base."


A figure clothed in a pitch black robe, hood and cloak, walked through
different dimensions muttering. "Damn it....... bozon strength offscale.....
could it be?.." Xtreme mumbled. Electricity arced among his clothing, hands
and face. "Hell, not again!" he bellowed. "Everytime I travel through
dimensions, I collect static electricity."

Stopping at the correct dimension, Xtreme brushes off the static and
summoned his staff with a circular wave of his left hand. A staff appeared
from nowhere in front of Xtreme. It was a long black staff with a floating
globe on top. He grabbed it  and with it he called up a display. There it
showed the battle that was going on. "Trolls. Even here they contaminate
this dimension with ther presence. Hmmm... Bozon strength steady at
67microJacques. Well I guess I'll help out my comrade in arms."

He stretched out his arms and a shimmering globe of energy appeared. Then
using his telepathic ability he called out to his potential allies.
"Friends. It is I Xtreme Psycho. I've been troll hunting and noticed the
menaced has arrived in this dimension. I am at your disposal. Xtreme out!"

With the transmission complete, Xtreme sets out to find him some troll meat.
With a wave of his staff he disappeared.


Pablo swept his lightsaber through a troll's face, the instant
cauterization preventing the acid blood from hitting him.  Another one
rushed him, but found its trachea suddenly crushed.  The lifeless
corpse was thrown against another of the horde of trolls rushing him.

He planted a perfect sidekick in the belly of one, rupturing internal
organs and casting it to a screaming death, trampled on the floor by
the idiotic tide.  The individual bozon fields were only in the 50-60
range, quite stupid but not overwhelmingly so, but the combined effect
of dozens of them in a confined space was stifling.

Pablo threw a wave of dark-side produced kinetic energy into the front
ranks of the trolls, rending flesh and bone in a terrible display of
power.  But for every troll that fell, two came forward.  It was time
to do something drastic.

Pablo gritted his teeth, and summoned up all the power he could.  He
floated several feet off of the steel floor, and electricity crackled
off of his body.  The trolls nearest him jerked spastically, caught in
the tide of electrical energy.  Pablo screamed in rage, and waves of
lightning poured off of him onto the floor.  The cold steel easily
conducted the power.  The trolls themselves began uttering shrieks of
pain, but they soon faded.

Pablo fell to the floor and onto his knees.  He struggled up to his
feet, and tapped into the force to revitalize himself.  He took a deep

It stank of burning flesh.

Pablo Sanchez

>It stank of burning flesh.

Iceberg saw a troll about to leap on Pablo from behind and
triggered his head-mounted machine guns.  A ferocious growling
sound came from them as they filled the troll with tungsten-cored
penetrators.  His bozon field flux meter detected a spike behind
him and he ignited the beam sabre his suit held in its right
hand, sweeping the weapon through the Troll's stomach.  20
minutes worth of sabre charge might as well have been 20 hours
under combat conditions.

Seemingly hours later, the sabre guttered and died.  Iceberg was
swarmed by trolls before he could pull another from his shield,
and his comrades were too busy to help him out.  He typed four
letters into his combat computer.


The cockpit faded into nonexistence as the dangerous,
mind-melting Zero System activated.  The system could destroy a
pilot's brain if he wasn't careful... but in conjunction with the
right warrior, it was the most lethal weapon in existence.

Iceberg pulled his right arm free of the trolls' grasp and pulled
out the beam rifle.  Switching it to its highest setting, he
fired and seven trolls vanished in a flood of light and

It was then that he heard Dalton's warning about a troll larva
over the comm...


"Poe! I suggest your men go back and root the fucker out! We gotta get
Transcend, if he's still alive!" Paulsen didn't get an answer, mostly
because someone calling himself 'extreme' cut across the transmission.
Paulsen was somewhat mystified by the unauthorised call. "Listen, who
the hell are you and how did you tap into the lines?!" Calming down
somewhat, he considered. "Well, whatever, you can..." he cut off. "Wait
a second." Raising his plasma rifle, he sent a deep-red bolt through the
braincase of an insectoid troll clinging to the ceiling. Screeching, it
plunged down several levels and dissapeared into the bowels of the
atmosphere processor. Paulsen bent above the mike again. "All right, you
can come, but make it fast." He switched off, clipped the comm unit to
his belt, and took stock of the situation.
The atmosphere generator was a large, complex facility. The architecture
was spartan, consisting of metal walkways and a lot of electronic
equipment. There was plenty of room for the trolls to hide.
Screaming shrilly, a troll landed on the scaffold behind him. Paulsen
cursed and spun around, but the troll was quick, striking his plasma
rifle with enough force to rip it from his fingers. "I am ShoelessJoe,
dipshit!" it screamed, clawing at him with lightning-fast swipes. Only
the crackling shield around him saved Paulsen from disembowelment. His
face set, Paulsen pulled out a small, stubby handgun and fired it at
point-blank range. The bolter pistol gave a short bark and ejected a
seven-millimeter rocket into the chest of the troll. Paulsen hardly had
the time to duck before ShoelessJoe detonated in a gory explosion.

"Colonel Paulsen!" Paulsen cursed again, viciously, and stooped to pick
up the comset that he had dropped. "What?!" he snapped into it. The
voice of McReynolds answered him. "Sir, there are some odd readings
coming from the deeper parts of the processor. It's where the reactor
coolants are. It'll be warm and moist down there, so my guess is that
they have a troll egg-laying ground there. That's your best bet for
finding Transcend."
"What? Who's laying these eggs?"
"I don't know. It must be something we haven't seen yet."


Nearby, Iceberg yelled out, "Fox four!" and the missile pods on
his suit's legs opened and poured ten short-range anti-mecha
missiles into a phalanx of trolls.  The heavy explosive warheads,
designed to take out a ten-ton battle machine, ripped the trolls
asunder in technicolor explosions of blood, gore and flame.
the mechapilot, unloading another beam rifle charge into a
troll's stomach and taking out the troll behind it as well.

"Man, this is just like the Battle of A Bao A Qu - bad guys
everywhichdamnway ya look!  Only the Zakus ain't this ugly!"


One troll stood panting behind a wall. Tears were coursing down its
furred cheeks. It was frightened... it knew it was going to die. In
panic, it curled up in a foetal position against the wall.
Suddenly it screamed. Its features twisted and flowed like wax. Then
they reformed. No longer clad in mismatched armor, but rather
in an expensive black suit, the troll was unrecognizable, an
entirely different person. Not even its face was the same, what with the
sun glasses and the comm device trailing to one ear. Brushing a stray
piece of blood off his sleeve, Alyeska calmly walked into view of his

If he was impressed by the sheer volume of firepower brought to bear,
Alyeska gave no sign of it. Bullets flew through the air. Plasma charges
incinerated metal and flesh with equal ease. Napalm rockets vyed with
vulcan cannon shells for dominion.

"Mr Paulsen!" The shout rang out across the small chamber, where one man
stood over the smoking corpses of five trolls. Paulsen slowly raised his
gaze to meet that of his enemy. He had holstered his weapon and saw that
his enemy had done the same. They stared at each other, tensely, their
hands open, waiting for the right moment to draw. In the distance, a
rocket detonated, shaking the building.

Without warning, Paulsen drew his gun and fired, his shots superimposed
on those of his enemy. Paulsen, like Alyeska, was already in motion,
running against the other and kicking off against a pillar to meet
Alyeska in mid-air, where they grappled. They exchanged shots, both of
them, shots that missed. They landed an instant later, both with their
guns against the other's head.

"You're empty." hissed Alyeska.

"So are you." retorted Paulsen. And with that, he hit the ground with a
blow hard enough to send him spinning backwards. Landing on the balls of
his feet, he glared at Alyeska, who rose slowly, throwing away his gun.
After a moment, Paulsen followed suit.


"I've got a lock on a troll fortification. 20 klicks to the east, I'm
taking it out." With the last word Kyle let loose a rapid fire barrage
of rockets from an integral launcher. Twenty small rockets armed with
variable yield nuclear warhead flew straight at the concentration of
trolls. The warheads had been set for a max yield of fifteen megatons
and simultaneous explosions. Luckily they were shaped charges and so
vaporized the entire troll outpost with 300 megatons of concentrated

Kyle Knopf

> Kyle stepped up in his MI armor, with the Roughneck insignia on his left
> shoulder and the cleaner sign on his right shoulder and just stood there
> and readied all weapons. They was no need for him to speak it was
> obvious from his face that he was ready to go.

Strapping on his shield of reflection, Lord Graeme looked at himself in
the mirror.  "Those people down there will be helpless against the
awesome might of the TJ.  It seems I must once again take up my role in
the never ending battle against trolls."  Lord Graeme hefted his massive
warhammer Mjollnir, and called his pet dragon Broiler to his side.
"Come Broiler, it is time for us to assist in the battle against the
king of all trolls."

Graeme Dice

> "You're empty." hissed Alyeska.
> "So are you." retorted Paulsen. And with that, he hit the ground with a
> blow hard enough to send him spinning backwards. Landing on the balls of
> his feet, he glared at Alyeska, who rose slowly, throwing away his gun.
> After a moment, Paulsen followed suit.

Lord Graeme stood in the shadows of the corridor, invisible to all.  He
watched as the combatants fought in a scene vaguely reminiscient of a
movie he had watched several millennia ago.  He thought he could
remember it being called the Matrix or something like that.

Lord Graeme spoke a single word of power, and all time in the room
stopped.  Shedding his invisibility, he strode towards where the
combatants were locked in a deddly embrace.  He clenched the suited
figure with his gauntlets of power, and reversed the time stop.  The
"agent" found itself locked in a steely embrace, completely unable to
free itself.

Lord Graeme backhanded the agent, and sent it flying through five metres
of concrete into an adjacent corridor.  The agent stood up brushed
itself off, and charged towards Lord Graeme, intent on destroying this
newcomer with a single blow.

"My you are persistent, aren't you." Lord Graeme commented as the agent
flew throught the air.  He stepped aside blindingly fast, thanks to the
speed boots he always wore.  The agent continued through the air and
slammed into the wall on the other side as well.

"Enough of this, I grow tired of these games." spoke Lord Graeme.  he
stroed over to where the agent was lying on the ground and picked him up
one-handed by the neck.  Clenching his fist, Graeme relished in the
sound of bones popping and snapping in the neck.  Graeme then drew a
dagger from his belt, inspected it to ensure that it was the correct one
for the occasion, and stabbed the agent directly through the heart.
Graeme dropped the body, which dissappeared as it fell.  The dagger fell
to the ground loose and completely clean.  Lord Graeme picked up the
dagger and spoke to Paulsen.

"You have to be careful of these types.  They like to pick on those
smarter than themselves."

Lord Graeme faded back into invisibility and went off to find more
people in need of his help.

Lord Graeme of Dice, Tamer of Dragons, Defeater of the Boyd Legions

Iceberg finished off the last troll near him and kicked his
roadstriker off the ground, executing a half-transformation into
hybrid configuration.  The legs locked into the vertical
stabilizing fins for added airborne stability and a pair of wings
folded out from their locked-down configuration.  "Hey, Kyle, you
got a couple of flying trolls on your tail, I'll smoke 'em."  The
trolls were too easy to lock up with the heatseekers on the wings
of Iceberg's 'striker.  "Fox two, two heatseeks in the air."  The
two trolls, about to open fire on Kyle with crudely manufactured
but powerful chainguns, each fell prey to a heat seeking missile
up the tail.


"Hey Sarge, what's this?" One of Poe's men was pointing at something in
the corridor below. Paulsen frowned at it. "What the hell?" He aimed his
analyzer against the wall in question. It was a strange, almost
organic-looking structure, like a beehive.
"Hey..." Paulsen looked again at the little device. "It seems like...
something... is building new walls down there. They're using old
regurgitated crossposts from alt.startrek.vs.galactica." He spat.
"Filthy trolls."


Nearby, listening in on the comm channel, was the bounty hunter Crayz9000.
"Time to get rid of these filthy vermin." He activated his holo-shroud, set
it to look like a double-size Rancor, and walked into the room. Fifteen
trolls, about to jump on Kyle, looked up at the sight of the ugly,
slobbering creature, and screamed in terror. He smiled to himself, and let
loose with his shoulder-mounted flechette launcher. Five of them were torn
to shreds, and the other ten attacked. At first, they harmlessly bounced off
his combination stormtrooper-Mandalorian armor, but then they started to
damage it. "Ok, that's it." He pounded the first one with a barrage of
rocket darts, which blew it apart. Pulling out his forcepike, he then
messily decapitated three in a row. Noticing five more charging from behind
on his HUD, he ducked as they leaped overhead, slamming their heads into the
doorway. He then powered up his lighter version of the E-web, compact enough
to fit on his other shoulder, and sprayed the prostrate trolls with fire,
splattering acid blood all over the wall.

Looking around the room, he saw the fifteenth troll attempting to sneak up
on him. "You want it painful, don't you." He pulled out his dagger-sized
vibroblade, and sliced the troll to shreds. Noticing that Kyle had left, he
figured that he had better leave too. Checking his sensors, he noticed a
strong microJacques reading below him. He then activated his shadowy
lightsaber and cut through the floor, carving a large troll's head up in the
process. He jumped through, and landed in the middle of a congregation of
suprised trolls. Within one minute, they were all carved into tiny pieces.

By now, the stupidity was starting to have an effect. He took a stimtab, and
continued in the direction his computer indicated that the atmospheric
processor was.


>Iceberg finished off the last troll near him and kicked his
>roadstriker off the ground, executing a half-transformation into
>hybrid configuration.  The legs locked into the vertical
>stabilizing fins for added airborne stability and a pair of wings
>folded out from their locked-down configuration.  "Hey, Kyle, you
>got a couple of flying trolls on your tail, I'll smoke 'em."  The
>trolls were too easy to lock up with the heatseekers on the wings
>of Iceberg's 'striker.  "Fox two, two heatseeks in the air."  The
>two trolls, about to open fire on Kyle with crudely manufactured
>but powerful chainguns, each fell prey to a heat seeking missile
>up the tail.

Ensign Jim's shuttle landed in rough terrain.  Though, landed wasn't quite
the word for it.  Barely controlled crash seemed to be just adequate.  The
combined effects of the bozon field, and a 300 MT blast to the east had wreaked 
havoc on the shuttle's systems.  The Captain had charged Jim with discovering 
the source of the 500 microJacques bozon field surrounding the planet.  Given 
that bozon fields were usually measured in a few tens of microJacques, this was 
a profound source of concern.  So much so that crack commando teams from all over 
the galaxy, if not the multiverse, had converged upon this single planet.

Unfortunately, Jim had no help.  His platoon noncom was none other than
Corporal Elim Garak, a sorry little man who'd spent over six years in Fleet
just to earn the rank of Corporal.  With the good corporal at his side, Jim
got the dark feeling he'd be lucky if he ever saw the USS Stowbridge again.

"Alright folks, let's get ready to move out.  Do not forget to activate
your psionic implants, an unprotected being in a bozon field of a even a
hundred microJacques can expect to suffer serious mental damage!"  Jim
shouted, shouldering his field pack.

"Set your blaster rifles to the maximum setting and slave your helmets
to the network.  I need to see everything that's going on . . . you got that,
Garak?"  Jim asked, looking over at the corporal.  As usual Corporal Garak
was off in his own world.  Jim slapped him on the shoulder, bringing him to
abrupt attention.

"I *said*, did you get that!"

"Of course, sir,"  Corporal Garak replied unenthusiastically, turning
back to his lucky Pokemon trading card.

Jim sighed, contacting his home ship.  "USS Stowbridge, can I count on
any reinforcements?"

"That's a negative, Ensign.  I'm not sending a strike team down until
you can localize the source of those bozon emissions!  If the surface intensity
increases by much more, then even those people with the heavy weaponry might
be affected, and I'd just as soon not risk dropping a shuttle into that

Jim sighed.  "Thanks anyway, Captain.  We'll keep you posted,"  he shut
off the comm, turning to the troops he had with him.

"Let's move out!"


Ensign Jim and his team had spent over fifteen minutes combing the

The bozon field strength in this area was exceeding 300 mJs, and even Jim
was starting to feel dull.  And Corporal Garak looked especially dull . . . even
for him. And Jim didn't think was possible for the corporal to be any more
dull than he was now!

Suddenly, Jim was hit by an overwhelming feeling of dull warmth.  Jim
desperately tried to fight it, focusing on the absurdity of the NRWD . . .
but the NWRD was starting to make more and more sense by the second.  Corporal
Garak was starting to drool, scratch his ass and walk like a monkey.   Jim
could swear that Corporal Garak had gotten a helluva lot hairier too!  Jim
was only vaguely aware that the computer was screaming in his ear that the bozon
field strength was approaching 1 full Jacques.

Suddenly, a massive, troll-like being reared up over the next ridge.
It was over twelve feet tall and easily weighed a ton.  It was also the source
of the one Jacques field.  It spied Jim's team and fired a bozon chain-blaster
mounted where it's brain should've been.  One of his men was hit, and
instantly his skill imploded, showering Jim with bits of hot brain matter.  
The man's flesh dribbled away, revealing a glistening, wet troll.  Garak, who 
had been de-evolving by the minute, became a troll.  A very dangerous troll 
. . . a troll armed with a blaster rifle, ten power cells rated at 50 shots each,
and the best anti-blaster armor that 26th. century Earth could offer.  Garak
ran, screaming about the holiness of Trek and the NRWD, into the forest, blasting 
anything that moved.

Jim vaguely remembered raising his blaster rifle and taking a few shots
at the supertroll.  The surprised supertroll had ducked into a cave, and the
bozon field began to weaken.  Soon, Jim had recovered just enough intelligence 
to realize that he had just survived a brush with Paul Jacques, the only being
capable of producing a 1 Jacques field.  And where Paul was around, the
queen of all trolls, TJ, TOWNMNBS,  the only being in all the universes which
could produce a more potent bozon field, was certain to be near.

Wiping the drool from his chin and banishing all thoughts about the
correctness of the NRWD from his mind, Jim slowly realized that the
resources of even the USS Stowbridge wouldn't be enough to counter 
such a threat.  He set his transmitter to the highest power, praying 
somebody in the valley would hear him.

"We . . . we've . . . just encountered the Quantum . . . Idiot!  Two .
. . men down, and the rest of us have about . . . 150 IQ points between us.  If
anybody can hear me . . . he's taken to the caves, and can pop up anywhere!
Repeat, anywhere!  And watch . . . watch out for a Corporal Elim Garak.
He's a troll with a blaster rifle.  Can anybody hear me!"  Jim shouted desperately 
as he heard the scrabbling of trolls, driven insane by the gunfire coming from the 
valley scrambling up the hill . . . to his position . . .

Ensign Jimmy

Chris had taken his time in figuring out exactly what was going on. He
had placed a dozen omnidirectional sensors around the perimiter of the
battle which fed information directly into is tac helmets computer,
generating a 3D holographic map of the battle and all who dwelled in
it. ALso, using the sensors imbeded in the suit, a wireframe image was
generated of the entire battlefield and all in it.

He did not like what he had saw. According to this, a base
designated 'Cleaner Alpha" was currently a hotspot of fighting, with
many trolls having converged and penetrated the defences. The majority
of the cleaners were giving a...spirited defence of the base, cutting
the trolls down one by one. Further out, Iceburg and Kyle as well as
several other warriors had fought off a massive infamous troll wave
attack, where thousands of BSing trolls charged into battle,
overwhelming their enemies with the massive number of posts. Then they
had launched an atomic stike which appeared to have leveled the trolls
forward attack base. All was looking well...
His tacmap flashed red in a sector north of the base. It reported a
field strength of 1 Jacques field had been detected.

Chris imediatly ran a level 2 diagnostic on his systems, praying that
it was a malfunction.
It was not.

Imediatly he started running towards the sector, pushing his light
scout powered armor to its limit. As he ran accross the top of a ridge
to get tp the valley where the fighting was taking place he unslung his
primary weapon. It was a highly modified type 3a phaser rifle.On top of
its normal design, it had an aditional seven type one phaser emiters
built into it. In normal mode, they would fire level ten blasts in
burst fire mode evey .2 seconds which mowed through trolls very nicely.
Power was provided by a large cell on his back, though if drained, the
phaser would revert to a stnd type 3a with its internal cell.

He also had installed a secondary fire mode. Though it would drain the
entire battery, all seven type one emmiters would fire and converge a
half meter in front of the barrel, all their power held by a subspace
field before the main emiter fired also releasing all of its power.
Though it would drain one of his 2 batteries, it would produce a
focused 2.4 MT blast that would kill anything upto about a 230 mJs in
one shot.

'Chris to Jimmy. I'm on my may. Hang tight. I'll get in tou-'
He cut off as his sensors screamed in warning of a mJs field
approaching 700 right in front of him. Skidding to a halt, he activated
his laser targeting system, and traced the dot only visable to his
eyepeice back and fourth over the landscape until it hit upon a human
looking shape.
It advanced towards him
With his thumb, he flicked his weapon over to secondery fire and
activated the light on his weapon to show him what he was dealing with.
The hidious form of Omicron Theta shone it the light. Resiting the
urges to crap his dacks and run, he leveled the laser site right at
where this class of troll's reproductive organisms should be.
'HEREEE MMEEEEEEEEE' it hissed and another alarm went off in his
helmet. It was attempting to flood him. THe psionic shield he wore was
starting to fail and of course the UFP had 75,000,000,000 combat ready
'NOOOO' chris screamed and pulled the trigger.
At once, the smaller phasers sent their energy into the containment
area and the land around grew bright as the energy lit up the
landscape. OT laughed and started to walk forward and by the light of
the phased energy, he almost threw up at the site of the it. But
despite the images of SSD's being destroyed by Pegerines, he kept his
weapon on target and the primary beam lept out, collecting the other
beams and in a reacton he did not understand (but liked) phased,
increasing the total power many many times. The beam of pure white
streaked out and slamemd into OT, sending it hurtling over the side of
the ridge, falling a long long way. The preasure on his mind cut off,
and he watched in satisfaction as it hit the ground with a sick wet
thump. It was not dead, be he observed many minor trolls gathering
around and carying it away from the battle.

'Attention all personal. I have encounted omicron theta, repeat have
encounted omicron theta. Have driven it off, but it is still intact.'

Chris O'Farrell

Iceberg grinned ferally, finishing off a troll calling itself
DanFake.  The troll had managed to surround him with what looked
like solid metal walls... but only for a moment, until Ice's
roadstriker sensors revealed that they were naught but smoke and
mirrors.  Stepping through the smoke and vaporizing the mirrors
with low-powered beam rifle shots, he aimed at the troll.

"GODISALIE!!!  ANANTIHUMANLIE!!!" screamed the troll.

"You're gonna meet Him in a minute," replied Iceberg, leveling
his beam rifle.

"Jesus loves you... go meet Him!"  The beam rifle's aperture
glowed bright blue for a moment, then lashed out, engulfing the
troll's slimy body and vaporizing it.

"LIIIIIIIIIIIIIES!" screamed the troll as it died.

Iceberg took to the air, looking for more targets.


>By now, the stupidity was starting to have an effect. He took a stimtab,
>and continued in the direction his computer indicated that the atmospheric
>processor was.

Meanwhile, Phong "Mr. Mallet" Nguyen was fighting for his life,
intelligence and insanity. His powerarmor suit had long since been
discarded, wrecked beyond all repair. His rifle had long since run out
of ammo, his lightbayonet smashed.

However, all was not lost. For he had long since built up a resistance
to the bozon fields. Fields up to 75 mJc in strength were easily
countered. And there was the advantage - the lesser trolls could not
convert him, could not entice him, could not enrage him.

With a strange calm Phong crushed the head of the first troll with the
MoD1, and broke the back of another with the P-MoD2. Flowing through
the mob, many lay dead or unconsious, yet other beat him with clubs
and sticks - and he could not block them all. And then the trolls'
reinforcements came in and rushed.

Phong ran far, outpacing the horde and pulling out a grenade. Flinging
it to the far side of the mob, he dove to the ground as the stored
intelligence of a dying nerd rushed forward, overwhelming the trolls
and and nearly knocking Phong out.

He rose, looked at his handywork, and moved on in the search for ammo,
food and friendly forces. Taking a pair of binoculars from a fallen
troll, he looked at something strange on the horizon. A black line?

Zooming in, his heart nearly stopped. A solid line of Troll Armor and
infantry was rushing in towards the friendly troops.

Phong Nguyen

 Kyle saw the advancing line, and grinned. This was what he lived for,
it was the reason he had first joined the MI and made it Sergeant in
Rico's Roughnecks and then after the accident that sent his drop capsule
flying through the universe and crash landing on a rebel base that he
had quickly destroyed. Not long after that the cleaners showed up to do
the same job he had just completed for them, in the end he had joined
the Empires most elite unit and never regretted it.

 "This is Kyle we've got incoming on the left flank. We don't have time
for anything fancy, I'll keep them busy while you fall back to our
defensive line. Lets move it!" He jumped and started firing nukes all
along the troll line, the first few salvo landed in front of the troll
lines cratering the terrain in front of them. He moved up and down the
front ranks of the trolls, nukes burning holes in the ground as his
energy weapons took out the officers and gas grenades drove unprotected
trolls insane forcing them to turn on there fellows.

 "I'm coming in, cover me." And Kyle promptly took off for the waiting

Kyle Knopf

Meanwhile, Crayz9000 was crawling through some maintenance ducts, heading
toward the center of the atmospheric processor. Checking his displays again,
he was surprised to see that there was absolutely no activity. He stopped,
his danger sense tingling. The trolls were jamming him. Suddenly, his HUD
flashed a warning. Three spider trolls, coming down the tunnel at high
speeds. With no time to turn around, he activated his boot-mounted rocket
launchers. Six mini-rockets blasted toward the trolls, two on each one. The
trolls had barely enough time to realize that they were doomed, and then
they exploded in hunks of acid flesh.

Crayz9000 reached out with the Force, attempting to overcome the combination
of jamming and bozon fields. His psionic field generator had overloaded and
shut down quite a while ago, leaving him open to the fields. Directly behind
him, he detected a troll in some kind of power suit, cruising on antigrav.
He hopped on his equipment hoversled, grabbed onto the handles, and fired
his jetpack. The sled shot forward at an astonishing rate of acceleration,
easily outpacing the troll. The bounty hunter looked up. The end of the
tunnel was coming rapidly, and he shoved his head down as the sled burst
through the grating, severly damaging it. He jumped off the sled, in time to
see it go crashing into a giant viewscreen displaying some website. It was

In his travels, the bounty hunter had come across schematics for a Dark
Trooper replicator autocannon. It had taken him a while, but he got one
operational, and now the replicator-generator was mounted on top
of his jetpack. Quickly realizing that he was surrounded by over 20 trolls,
he unslung the autocannon from his back, and powered it up.
A line of slobbering trolls were in front of him. He pulled the trigger,
and the trolls exploded or fell one by one as he swept the cannon
across their ranks.

One minute later, he was standing on top of a pile of dead trolls, head
aching because of the stupidity. He had just battled twenty trolls, each
150 microJacques, but their collective stupidity of 3 Jacques had gotten
to him. He looked at his surroundings, and was surprised to see
the remains of troll eggs, crushed by the battle. Sitting in a corner
was a figure, slumped over and drooling. Crayz9000 walked over,
autocannon at the ready. As he walked closer, he recognized the face.
It was Transcend. "Attention Cleaners. This is Crayz9000. I've
found Transcend."

The next day...

He looks at his comm unit. The faceplate is cracked. So Crayz9000 pulls off
the cover.
"Damn. It melted down from all the troll's energy."

Looking across the room, he sees that Transcend is in a coma. Because of the
troll influence, he places Transcend in a stasis field.

"Great. What next?"

At that moment, he hears heavy footfalls. Looking up, he sees a great Troll
Warrior, ten feet in height. And behind him is... the feared TOWNMNBS. The
troll king speaks. "I've gotten rid of MKSheppard, but who are you? You have
slain my crack troops. You will pay for that." And he advances forward.

At that point, the bounty hunter's head is pounding with nonsense. He tries
to shake it off, but the bozon fields are too strong. Finally, he activates
his portable phase-cloak just as the warrior swipes at him. The claw passes
harmlessly through him, and he blacks out from the stupidity.


The wall right behind where Crazy had been standing suddenly violently
imploded in a massive white flash as a powerful phaser cannon blast strobed
through the wall and slammed into the troll warrior. The partical beam had
been enhanced with a pure logic matter stream and along with the increadble
KE of the superbeam, was enough to blow the troll warrior back at almost
supersonic velocity into TOWNMNBS, sending the Dark Prince crashing back
through the complex, down the stairs. Moving quickly as he knew his field
could not possibly hold out against the local bozon fields for more then a
few minutes, he grapped Transcend and dumped him into his heavily modified
class 9 shuttle, the 'Troll Killer MK4" aerotech attack craft. Built on the
body of the shuttle, the twin warp naceles had been taken off  and the the
wings elongated for even better atmospheric flight. On top of each wing, was
a pair of E-Web heavy repeating blasters which quad linked, were perfect for
straffing a mass troll attack. In between the wings, where on a normal class
9 the fueslauge sloped down steaply, the hull had been elongated and a
turreted micro Q-Torp launcher had been placed. Rapidly openeing the ship,
he threw Transcend into the passanger area behind the 2 piolt seats and
engaged another containment field. Sprinting back, he loacted the exact
place where Crazy was located and emmited an intense graviton field, enough
to destablise the cloak and throw him back in phase.
However he was not awake.
Swearing, he started lift the warrior and his impreasivly heavy amount of
weapons, but he woke up.
'what..where...where am..oh SHIT' Crazy swore as he realised that he was
deep in bad guy land and they were about to be overrun by swarms of trolls
and the big dady itself.
'THIS WAY' Chris yelled and crazy did not heasatate to follow. They both
lept into the _killer_ a few seconds before the leading wave reached them,
crazy leaping into the co-piolt seat powering up the impulse engines.
Grabbing the flight stick, chris slammed the throttle forward and the killer
blasted up into the morning sky. A dozen trolls were clinging on, trying to
smash their war in, but the hull was too stong. Simply reversing the
polarity of the hull, Chris sent them (due to their high metalic content)
flying to fall to the ground below. As they turned for home, back over the
complex, they both saw TOWNMNBS standing up outside with hundreds if not
thousands of minor trolls covering the ground around it. Without so much as
a second thought, Crazy stabbed down on the Q-Torp launcher, and a pair of
white streaks instantly crossed the distance to slam into the body of the

The sceen instantly disolved into a blaze of zero point energy extraction,
however amazingly although the majority of the minor trolls were vapped
outright, and the rest injured, TOWNMNBS did not look so much as scratched.

Then it spoke

The voice came not from without but within!

_Your flames are useless against me. Soon we shall be one. One mind. One
knowledge. One truth. Its is-_
The voice cut off as Chris managed to somehow stab down on the anti bozon
field activator. But it left the two shaken as the sleak ship raced towards
the atmospheric plant, where the Cleaners had appeared to win a hard fought
But at a price.

Chris O'Farrell

Chris set the Killer down on the roof of the atmospheric processor. The
badly shaken bounty hunter jumped out, thanked Chris, and checked his
slave-curcuit controller. Thankfully, it was intact.

Crayz9000 paused for a second. How was Chris still alive? Finally, it was
coming back to him. Chris, in an alternate timeline, was maimed and
carbon-frozed by the LT. On the other hand, in the real timeline, he left
Chris near that star, trying to vape the Cleaner's beer when he had received
the distress call from the atmospheric processor. Oh well, so Chris was
trying to redeem himself. Fine with me, he thought, as long as he doesn't
try to steal my H-wing. But then, he'd have to get past the hardwired and
quantum-armored retina/fingerprint/DNA scanners.

On the roof, the bozon fields were reading at >0.01 microJacques. So he
activated the controller, calling his H-wing to him. When it arrived, he
dumped his wrecked armor and weaponry into the small cargo hold, jumped into
the cockpit, and headed for a rendezvous with the Cleaners. They needed all
of their strength combined to combat TOWNMNBS.

When he got there, Crayz9000 opened up the cargo hatch and pulled out a
ysalamiri nutrient frame. It could not project fields like the
now-overloaded psionic field generator, but at least it would never
overload. Or so he hoped. He then grabbed a couple clips of rocket darts,
and a heavily modified HEV suit. The regular armor had been torn up so badly
that it was completely useless. So the bounty hunter climbed into the HEV,
put on his helmet, and strapped the nutrient frame to his back.

The HEV's long jump module had been replaced with a repulsor pack, allowing
him to fly almost indefinitely due to the mini fusion generator he'd added.
Unlike his normal armor, he could not use a jetpack, as the heat would
damage the suit. The autocannon was too heavy for the suit, so he strapped
the light E-web on, and checked his DL-44. Finally, he grabbed utility belt
containing survival rations, macrobinoculars, a micro comm unit, and a dozen
mini thermal detonators. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed an M-249
chaingun with extra belts, and slung it across his back. Fortunately, the
HEV had structural support and built-in first aid.

He didn't mind the loss of the equipment sled so much. Sleds were cheap, and
obtained easily enough. But he had one more thing in the hold: a STAP
hovercraft. Its twin heavy blaster cannon were enough to take on most
trolls, but he had modified it, like everything else. Slung underneath was a
mini-proton torpedo launcher, similar to the ones spacetroopers carried.
Finally, he was ready to rock and roll again.

He looked over at Iceberg. He was performing emergency repairs to his
equipment. As Crayz9000 looked around him, he realized that he wasn't the
only one who was hurt. Dalton lay almost unconsious, and the LT's med droid
was attending to him. Most of the other Cleaners were licking their wounds,
or repairing their weaponry. For the moment, the trolls seemed to be taking
a break, but that couldn't possibly last.

An hour later, his suit flashed a warning.

A dozen dragon-like trolls came flying over the wall of the building. He had
barely enough time to duck before they went flying overhead. So he jumped on
his STAP and began chasing them, covering the air with blaster bolts. One
nearly hit Dalton, and he swore. He'd better watch his aim. As soon as he
had a target lock on the largest one, he fired a proton torpedo. The troll
didn't stand a chance, and vanished in a burst of plasma and gas. In the
meantime, the Cleaners had started attacking. Before long, the trolls were


Kyle would soon fight the Trolls but first he had something to do. He
took aim and with some quick plasma bursts removed Chris's extremities.

Kyle Knopf

The bolts splashed harmlessly into the Personal shields that projected from
his TacPack. Glaring at Kyle, Chris toyed with the Idea of having _The
Killer_ open up with all 4 blasters and the phaser strips but decided
agaisnt it. They needed their strength for the fight ahead.
So why not just *impair* him for a while?
No, he had better not.
Or should he?
The Debate in his head was ended as a wave of flying trolls screamed in.
Yanking his rifile from its back mounted hold, he fired and over a dozen
phaser pulses a second blasted out from his weapon. One of the trolls was
vapped, and Crazy had taken to the air blasting at others along with Kyle
who was more or less acting as a moving fort. Within a short time, they were
blown out of the Sky and Chris moved down into the atmospheric factory which
looked half like a hospital. The cleaners had been maled badly.
He hopped the replacement beer (2 X what he had taken) he had brought would

Chris O'Farrell