MENU DIRECTORY
ELVIS  MELLON ORIGINS # TWO -ICE STATION SOMMO

A QUINN MARTIAN PRODUCTION

COPYRIGHT 32005/2011

PART # 8

LOCATION: Hexarus Triune star system -Ice Station Sommo- in orbit of Triune
# 2- Central Dome- inside stations command center.

Professor Krophf was on the edge of his seat both figuratively and literally (in
this case Colonel T.P Sommo’s command chair) watching the “Mexican standoff”
taking place in the corridor junction from north dome # one to central dome #
two. The sounds of battle blaring from the holo screens audio had abruptly
stopped when Tarvish Smegma came into the corridor holding Veracose Primm
captive and accompanied by two station SK10 bots, a service/science bot and
Andy the barber –service bot, now clearly metamorphosing into psuedo
Lubricators and accompanied by the once frozen Slime “soldier.”
(For lack of a better word)  You could hear a pin drop in the command center
save for the lowered audio of the battle taking place down on Triune # two
which had taken its own strange turn of events some twenty six galactic
standard minutes ago when the Draco transports released the Yarns in the “no
mans land” on the front battle lines  shortly before the Lyran transport carrying
Yarns and Draco troops had arrived incognito at the station.

The professor was white knuckled as he gripped the arm rests of the chair; he felt
his heart pounding in his chest as he waited to see what Elvis Mellon and the
Colonel would do. The tension in the room was palpable as the other station
personnel watched with baited breath,  but Voltaire the polished silver skinned
android seemed oblivious as he continued to monitor the stations incoming
telescope array data and mainframe functioning and security. The professor
noted that the cat seemed non pulsed as well  as the feline sipped from a curlicue
straw  that was sitting in a tropical looking drink with a little colorful umbrella
in it that  the robot known as “Beer-Two”  had dispensed for the cat as per his
request for a “Maytai.”  The cat now sat up on the front console in front of the
command chair with his drink that the professor had been gracious enough to
place there for his feline friend and the cat had also used his watch/collar to
produce a bowl of what appeared to be tuna fish and anchovies (the anchovies
being still whole and with their heads and guts intact.)  How anyone could eat
right now was beyond the confederations prized scientist.

Smokey had asked the professor if he had wanted anything from the little bot or
the  “replicator” function on  the cats watch but the professors stomach was too
nervous and upset.  He did however find himself fascinated by Beer –Two as the
bot was of C.C.O.T.A manufacture and not the Professors or C.G design. He had
asked the cat if the bot had been programmed with a particular personality  or
vocalization and the cat had told him that the bot had “oodles” of personality
but currently  only spoke in standard bot language but it understood anything it
was asked.
The bot just sat to the left of the cat with its blinking martini glass and “cold
beer” signs starting to annoy the professor as everyone stared at the large holo
screen showing the tense situation in the corridor junction. The cat, still purring
and chewing a mouthful of rather pungent fish, turned his whiskered head
sideways to the professor and said.  “This ought to be good!!”  The only things
moving in the white walled but now burnt , bloody,  wrecked but still   brightly
lit corridor junction were the  pseudo Lubricators and the  slime  that slowly
edged towards Elvis, the Colonel and their  friends and allies with their full array
of spinning blades and evil looking weaponry.

Tarvish Smegma, with his hostage in tow,  stood in between Elvis, the Colonel,
and those humanoids on the Confederations side with his back to the two
massive Arachnids while  the “possessed” robots on either side of him and
Doctor Primm  advanced  in the direction of said Confederation side. No one had
dropped their weapons and Doc Sax had both blasters trained on Smegma’s head
as did everyone else except Grond who kept his large war club raised as if to
throw it like a Tomahawk. The Colonels remaining personnel that had
participated in the battle, Lieutenant Lightner, private Keppler and several
others  both from earth and C.G special forces; stood to the side of Grond with
they're  blaster rifles drawn, looking weary and tense at the same time.  Sgt.
Sssszzivicck, the Mantis, had drawn her gore covered head from the dead Yarn’s
carcass with her whole body in striking pose but  still sucking up and slurping
the beasts entrails.

First cohort Zlaarissh, the Draco commander stood like a statue, dangerously
close to the spiders extended and deadly sharp front claws. His men, including
what was left of the Gray cyborg clones, all stood silently behind him awaiting
his signal. Colonel T.P Sommo made eye contact with Elvis as he thought about
the final gunfight in the graveyard at the end of “The good, the bad and the
ugly” and suddenly he and Elvis started laughing and guffawing loudly.

Zlaarissh was sure that Smegma, the Draco hybrid spy, did not expect to hear
laughter as their response to his ordering them to surrender. The two humans
were doubled over with laughter, tears running down their cheeks as they
slapped each other on the backs and giggled like school girls. Smegma was
outraged and pressed his blaster closer to the Plaedian scientist’s temple. “I will
waste this mammal bitch if you don’t stop laughing and drop all your
weapons!!!!”  Elvis and the Colonel laughed even harder and the Doc even
cracked a smile and started chuckling as did his hairy lime green side kick.

Zlaarissh braced himself for all Hell to break lose and he fully expected to be
decapitated by the spiders any second, but oddly enough  he felt at  peace and
strangely elated and  unlike a majority of the Draco population at  large, he
found himself thinking of a song. Zlaarissh was one of about a third of one
percent of the Draco population with a genetic defect in his ear drums; He was
not tone deaf and liked music  and in particular “Earth” -American rock and pop
music and he could be court martialed  and executed for ever admitting that to
anyone  and right now he had a Nancy Sinatra song playing in his head, “These
boots are made for walking.” Zlaarissh smiled inwardly as he thought about
when he first started listening to Elvis Mellon’s pirated radio broadcasts from his
secret base and station-“Non station K-L.S.D.”
The Draco did have their own version of music but being tone deaf by the
standards of almost every sentient race in the Milky Way galaxy –needless to say
it sounded like horrible noise to anyone with a cultured ear. Zlaarissh found that
he like this “Rock and Roll,” and “Pop music and “classical” and other then Elvis
Mellon and the Colonel making fools out of the Draco military high command
one too many times and thumbing their hominid noses at Zor and the emperor,
Zlaarissh had nothing personal against them.

He found he was having mixed feelings about killing them if he had the chance
and even capturing them as prisoners did not seem right. The Draco judged their
strength by the strength of their enemies and between the Galactic
Confederation and their unofficial ally, despite his outlaw status; Elvis Mellon,
the Draco star empire was pretty dammed powerful! All this raced through the
old campaigners mind as he agonized over hearing these humans respond.  Elvis
and the Colonel stopped laughing and collected themselves as a damaged power
conduit that had come loose from the damaged corridor wall, sputtered and
sparked near Elvis’s feet.

He grinned at Smegma as Veracose Primm screamed. “Shoot this asshole
already!” Elvis kicked the power conduit into the oncoming pseudo Lubricators
and they both started arcing with voltage and smoking and sparking as one of
them thrashed out, hitting the Slime “soldier” who in turn started frying and
melting like grape jelly on a hot skillet     and before Smegma could react, Elvis
yelled. “ZIK!” and Zik shot a steel cable like web from his mouth that wrapped
around Smegma’s blaster and yanked it out of his hand, Zek, the bluish spider
shot a web around the over loading, smoking, flaming psuedo Lubricators,
yanking them into pieces as Grond threw his club-  catching Tarvish Smegma
square in the jaw and knocking him  unconscious.

Elvis, Doc Sax, the Colonel and his remaining squad started blasting the  
dismembered Lubricator pieces into useless molten metal so they could not
reform and rebuild themselves as Sgt. Sssszzivicck  moved with lightning speed
in between the spiders and the Draco commander, knocking his blaster rifle out
of his  gloved clawed  hands and holding a razor sharp claw to his neck. The
Colonels “men” got the drop on the Draco soldiers and Gray cyborg Clones,
incinerating any of those that fired back and did not surrender.


This all happened so quick that Zlaarissh barely had time to process it all and for  
the first time in his long military career  he had been defeated AND captured.
That dammed earth song sung by that blond haired human female was still
playing in his head as he laid down his weapon near the Mantis’s front legs and
slowly removed his helmet while the handful of his soldiers did the same.
Veracose Primm kicked the unconscious Smegma in the head and  picked up the
fallen blaster that Zik had yanked from his hand and setting it to disintegrate  
she incinerated the Draco spy. Elvis and the Colonel both turned too late to stop
her and simultaneously shouted. “NOOOOOO, WE needed to interrogate
him!!!!!”  But Smegma was now a pile of ash.

Doctor Primm looked down at the pile of ashes and spit as she muttered.
“BASTARD!” She then calmly stepped over the piles of rubble, corpses and still
smoking  fried Lubricator remains at her feet towards Grond to thank him by
giving him a big bear hug. Grond was careful not to crush her as he hugged her
back and smiling shyly he told her. “You welcome Miss Lady, me glad you O.
K.!” (No one said Grond was a great linguist…)

The Colonel turned to Elvis, shrugging his shoulders and wiping dust from his
epilates. “How come we didn’t get a hug? Oh, well, Plan B, We spare the Draco
and interrogate them!” Doctor Sax, who had been sitting on a pile of rubble from
a collapsed wall and was cleaning his guns;  perked up, raising his head enough
to let the overhead light in under the shadow of his wide brimmed hat as to
reveal a strange gleam in his cold predatory eyes and he gave his companions a
rather disconcerting grin. “LEAVE that to me.” Elvis replied. “Yeah but we need
em alive and UN dissected this time, no grafting  two heads onto one body! So if
you do not mind Doc, not this time.”    


Back in the command center the cat sipped more of his drink and managed a
fanged smile in the direction of the Professor. “I told you it would be good!”  The
Professor was so relieved that he asked Beer Two if he could make
him a  “Long
island ice tea,” something Elvis had turned him on to and dammed if the bot
chirped positively and with red and blue blinking lights in its domed head, a tall
glass with brown liquid and ice cubes slid up out of an opening in the center of
the dome.  The professor was enjoying the first sip of his drink when Private
Tomita, another one of Colonel Sommo’s hand picked team from earth,
attractive American Japanese women and ex-Navy Seal, busily manning the data
consoles with Voltaire, spoke up. “Professor Krophf, you might want to take a
look at holo screen # three, to your right.”

The screen showed the real time images of the C.G side of the front battle lines
on Triune # two. Huge transports were landing and hovering where the Yarn
had broken through C.G defenses  which meant  the Draco pulse weapons  were  
apparently rendered useless down  there as well as they were on Ice station
Sommo and  platoon after platoon of white Mantis’s were flying out of them,  
numbering in the thousands as  they swarmed  down on the Yarns and  their
Draco riders  who were now in the C.G trenches and beyond them, rampaging
through the C.G supply depots and  encampments. The Mantis’s  were  
decimating the Yarns and Draco alike, some were piercing the thick armored
exoskeletons of the super mutant cockroaches and chopping them up, some
stopped to feed on them as well.

Professor Krophf looked at the cat for some explanation for this turning of the
tides of battle. Smoky had for gone the straw and was lapping the remainder of
his drink, speaking through laps.
“Though the Mantis race has mainly ( lap…...lap...lap  )   served the
Confederation in an advisory capacity,  ( lap…slurp…lap…)  choosing to become
navigators, adjutants, weapons officers and engineers, having evolved beyond
their earlier aggressively super predatory nature, Elvis had me contact (  
lap…lap...lap…)   their home world and speak to their presidium and to ask them
a special favor of allowing Virgil to beam any and all Mantis serving aboard the
C.G battle fleets in this sector or near by to the deportation decks of the C.G
fleets super destroyers for immediate embarkation to the planets surface to
combat and dispel this new Draco threat.

With the permission of each mantis of course, and the presidium was promised
certain incentives…..and your witnessing the outcome of said negotiations. In
short, the Mantis are kicking some   serious Draco ass since Virgil agreed also to
render the pulse weapons inert since that would simply be an extension of what
he had already done here for Elvis and not conflicting with C.C.O.TA protocols
or prime directives. Does that answer your question?” The professor looked like
he was going to say something for a minute but then he just shook his head and
sipped his Long island ice tea and smiled politely.  


First cohort Zlaarissh found himself and his half dozen surviving Draco and Gray
cyborg clones laying down their weapons and facing those that had defeated
them with a certain sense of relief that it was over and that they were still alive.
His second in command, second cohort Zleeerothh, a younger Draco half his age
that    had served with him for the last twelve years  leaned close to him and
whispered in a hiss. “With all due respect sir, we should have just gone out
fighting these talking monkeys and their pet bugs and monsters till the last
man!!!

I would have rather died with honor serving Zor and his father then to get
tortured by that maniac Doctor Sax and then get shipped to some Galactic
Confederation prison camp to perform slave labor for blue skin Plaedian scum or
those big red haired Lyrans or worse!!” Zlaarissh motioned with a sharp clawed
finger across his neck to be silent. He had taken his helmet and gloves off and
found the air in this station warm and breathable but the stench of dead
humanoids, Yarn’s and his own kind, not to mention the Gray cyborg clones that
smelled bad alive or dead; filled his sensitive nostrils and gave him a gag reflex
as he quickly addressed his sub commander while never breaking eye contact
with Colonel T.P Sommo and Elvis Mellon.

“Are you married second cohort? Zleeerothh nodded negatively. “Well, I am and
my daughter has six new hatchlings and I want to see them at least get their first
crest. You have a lot to learn about our precious star empire and its heir, the
mighty Zor. Do you think he gives a monkeys ass about you or me? Do you think
if we died here in battle he will dedicate statues to us or put our names on the
fallen hero’s wall in the square of Azaddrathon? The ministry of fear and
propaganda makes sure all Draco children are brainwashed against the
Confederation and especially its warm blooded humanoid citizens so we grow
up to hate them but you will find they’re not as horrible as they’re made out to
be.”

Colonel T.P Sommo approached Zlaarissh as his Mantis Sgt and the two gigantic
spiders remained to either side of the small group of surviving Draco and their
underlings in attack positions ready to strike them down in seconds while almost
every blaster, projectile weapon and or other implement of death was aimed at
them so they knew not to make any sudden moves. The Colonel stood in front of
the Draco commander, almost eye to eye, the Draco being a bit taller then most
humans, and he saluted him. Zlaarissh saluted back and stood there defiant and
proud.

“Well, Commander, let me say on behalf of the Galactic Confederation and
myself, you and your men are now our prisoners   as set forth by C.G code 99351
-77 and more importantly YOU’RE MY prisoners and if it was up to me, you raw
meat eating  cold blooded son of a bitchs, I would turn you and your lizard
friends into prime rib and lizard chili but  lucky for you, my buddy Elvis here (
the Colonel motioned with his right  thump behind him )  your lives are spared
for now, but I have a good mind to have you and those big headed little bastards
clean up the mess you made of my  base!
I should have you on your knee’s scrubbing up all that blood and guts and soot
and carbonization with a god dammed toothbrush AND…” Elvis quickly walked
over to the Colonel and clamped a hand over his mouth. “O.K., O.K., I think he
gets the point!!  For now why don’t we all retire to the rec room bar,
Commander…?” The older battle scarred commander hissed. “First cohort
Zlaarissh of the Red claw, and this is my second in command (gesturing to the
sub commander) Zleeerothh. Your reputation and that of your Colonel precedes
you, me and my men except your offer.”

The Colonel looked at Elvis like he was crazy. “WHAT??? That’s it? Your invited
them to MY rec room?? I have a nice brig waiting for them in the south dome
where the heat works like shit!!!! AND you invite them to the bar?? What about
this god dammed mess? Look at those disgusting frigging carcasses, holy shit
they are  the size of god dammed elephants and their blood and entrails (the
Colonel turned to glare at his Mantis Sgt. Briefly) are all over the god dam place
and it stinks!! MY  men, GOOD men and women are dead and some half eaten  
right next them, let alone the corpses of  these God dammed crocodile looking
sons of whores and  all of those creepy big headed cyborg clone things that stink
like dog shit!!  Who’s going to clean up my base!!!?”  

Everyone in the room including the Draco and Grays were careful not to make
eye contact with the Colonel and they all wished they were anywhere else but   
where they were, except for Elvis who had once again traded his blaster for a
scotch glass. He was stirring   the seemingly magic ice cubes that never seemed
to melt; with his pointer finger   and that tinkling sound was doing a stand in for
a pin being dropped as he  tiredly asked. “Do you have any more service bots on
base?”
The bases name sake was calming down and a little less red faced. “These
assholes and those frigging mutant things smashed up and wrecked all my
security bots and that hybrid spy scumbag turned by two favorite service bots
into God dammed Lubricators!!!  I THINK there’s a couple general service bots
left out on the shuttle pads that do maintenance and grounds keeping.”   
Zlaarissh raised a claw and cleared his throat. “No, sorry, we blasted them to
pieces when we first arrived, force of habit…..”  

The Colonel shot the Draco commander a look of contempt and toned it down to
annoyed  as he looked at Elvis to see where his train of thought was going.
“WELL? YOU were saying?” Elvis shrugged and grinned. “Plan B it is. Virgil,
could you beam the bodies and remains of the Colonel’s men to the stations
morgue and all the other corpses a few kilometers from the base so the
Yarmaw's    can have a feast  and then can you  clean up everything?” No sooner
had he said this then the Yarn carcasses, Draco, Grays and the stations valiant
dead had all vanished  even all the blood and gore, but not only that; All of the
broken lights and equipment, ceilings, walls, the fires and smoke, the soot and
ash, the sparking wires, all  fixed and pristine as if nothing had ever happened.

Elvis noticed that the Colonels personnel, the Draco and Grays and Veracose
Primm all gasped, flinched and did a double take, looking shocked and surprised
while Elvis’s crew and the Colonel acted like nothing out of the ordinary
happened. “Happy now?” Elvis said, bowing to the Colonel and holding his arm
out in a gesture of “after you”   and he added. “Now let’s adjourn to the bar for
some interrogating.”  The Colonel looked less grim, saying. “It’s a start.” Then
he   led the way, muttered under his breath as they all headed down the   
corridor with the spiders and mantis following closely behind their captives.

Minutes later the two opposing parties were joined by Professor Krophf,
Voltaire, Smokey and Beer Two in the stations recreation hall and bar.  Gray
cyborg clone - Drone 113B stared in wonder with his one large black eye and his
cybernetic ocular implant ( that looked like he had red flashlight sticking out of
his right eye socket )  at his surroundings. He had never been in or seen a place
like this, one  dedicated to frivolous pleasure and serving no utilitarian purpose
other then stress relief. His life and that of his fellow Gray cyborg clones was
rather dreary compared to these C.G citizens. From test tube to military training
and slave labor. No childhood, no privacy, no individuality, being fed horrible
gruel nutrients through a tube, crapping in a tube ,  existing to serve the Draco
and to perform menial tasks, to fly fighters and to serve as ground troops and to
kill anything that was not Draco alliance and to basically serve as “cannon”
(Blaster) fodder to spare the Draco soldiers the same fate, basically expendable.

The room that  Drone 113B and his fellow Grays were escorted into  along with
their Draco masters was what earth humans called a “Tavern” or “Public house”
and any twentieth or twenty first century American  earth human would have
felt right at home in it with its J shaped wooden bar, small tables and chairs with
red and white checkered table cloths, ash trays, those little candles in the colored
globes with the netting around them, mellow lighting, ceiling fans, a shiny retro
Juke box that lit up and glittered. There were mirrors and neon signs that said
“Budweiser,” “Schlitz,”  “Stegmeyer,”  and what looked like an old fashioned
1950’s cash register, next to a  few jars containing pickled eggs or big glausen
pickles.

There were portraits on the wall behind the bar, above the rather impressive
selection of scotches, whiskeys, bourbons, vodkas, liquors, etc, an equally  
impressive array of beer and ale taps.  Behind the bar above the liquor hung
portraits  of J.F.K, Dwight Eisenhower, Frank Sinatra, Dame Edna, and of course
- and American flag (  next to a C.G flag ) The place was big enough for the two
huge spiders and the giant Mantis, who stood guard next to the tables where the
few remaining  Draco and Gray cyborg clones sat marveling at the strange ( to
them ) room.  The Colonels men ( and women )  were scattered around the joint  
with Elvis, the Colonel and the Doc sitting  at the bar with Zlaarissh. Grond
stood close by swinging his club like he was practicing his gulf swing and the cat,
Voltaire and the Professor sat with Veracose Primm at a table near the big hairy
green ape.
Zlaarissh noted that weapons were still trained on him, his men and the Grays as
he sipped the whiskey they had given him. “I can’t believe you brought me here
to sample your home worlds alcohol, what do you want from us?” Elvis grinned
and looked from Zlaarissh to the Colonel, then the Doc then back to Zlaarissh. “I
assume your mission was to sneak  here, attack  us, capture the Colonel and
hopefully  me and anyone else like the Professor would be a plus. Then bring us
alive if you could back to Zor and or the emperor, so I propose that, THAT’S
actually  what you do…..You ( pointed to Zlaarissh, myself, the Colonel, Doc, Zik,
and maybe the good Professor and Primm, are gonna go and pay a visit to your
buddy Zor aboard his fancy Super Dreadnaught, The Decimator.”.....To be
continued.  
PAGE 9
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