| Sovereign Threads: The Spring Fanfiction Project |
April 8, 2004Tetris vs Galaga: Chapter 1 In A.D. 2202 War was beginning Unlike the other worlds of the multiverse, neither the realms of Galaga nor Tetris noticed the slight shift of their respected universes when it happened. In the case of Galaga, the sheer vastness of space decreased the chances of any strange happenings occuring around those who may have noticed. Ergo, the base where the Anti-Galagan fighters resided was spared from getting turned into a multi-colored monstrosity in a flash of light or something similar. As for Tetris, well... blocks have a tendency to not notice anything that happen to their surroundings. ...until now anyway. --- The Anti-Galagan space station, where the men and women who have dedicated their lives to acquiring as many kills against the insect-like aliens reside. Watch as it floats gently in space, with not a care in the world, safe in the cold embrace of the cosmos. Watch as it turns leisurely on its axis, paying no heed to the objects floating towards them at an accelerated rate. Watch as it gets hammered gloriously in silence, as portions blossomed into quickly extinguished fireballs, leaving behind space debris and dead crewmen and women in its wake. "What happened?" The captain of the space station screamed as he tried to reorient himself. He surveyed the state of the bridge with much dismay as his eyes met dead bridge crew and blown-up consoles. He made mental note to himself to ask the mechanic to install a few surge protectors should they survive this mess. Speaking of mechanics... "Someone set us up the blocks!" The aforementioned person gibbered incoherently as his surprisingly undamaged workstation displayed a video caught from the outside cameras. A cascade of what can only be described as multi-colored space debris fell towards them, bombarding the hull of the base relentlessly. "Incoming transmission." The operator announced in a surprisingly calm tone in the midst of the chaos. "What?" the captain exclaimed as he tore his eyes away from the mechanic's screen. "Image coming through on the main monitor." The operator continued, as his fingers flew all over the keyboard, entering the required command. The large holographic screen in the middle of the bridge switched on, revealing a snowy haze that slowly cleared... The captain, his eyes widening in fear with each passing moment, sweat trailing down his scalp as the tension built, blinked in confusion when he saw the figure. "You... you are... what are you?" He exclaimed, voicing out the thoughts of pretty much every other person in the bridge, all staring at the image on the screen, wondering whether they had drunk a little too much alcohol recently or not. Perhaps a little explanation is in order. When one imagines an evil invader bent on eradicating your very existence, one would usually picture something sinister and foreboding. An insect-like being large enough to destroy ships just by ramming into them, a huge artificial brain floating within a star-cruiser with enough weaponry to destroy a planet or two, even a menacing eggplant-like cyborg with a strange robotic voice. All of these do perfectly fit the archetype of an evil villain bent on conquering the little hub in space they call home. A long, thin, shiny, red block that could not even move, on the other hand, does not. The Tetris piece looked down at the shocked defenders of the universe menacingly, or at least as menacing as an object that couldnft change its expression can, and spoke, despite the problem of not having a mouth, or any other oral implements on its straight body. "„K„p„{ „r„E (Due to technical difficulties, the Tetris block's words shall be converted to English from now on) "Gentlemen are you how!!" It cackled, as it greeted the crew with false sincerity. "All to us are belong your worlds!!" It continued, not minding the looks its enemies are throwing at his direction. "On the way to destruction are you!!" It finished, sheer lustful joy in its voice as it tried to put on its most evil look and failed, due to a lack of facial muscles. Or a face for that matter For a moment, no one uttered anything, the verbal assault of the Tetris piece having left them speechless. A thick silence shrouded the entire room, broken only by the occasional explosion that signaled another sector of the base lost. Finally, after a minute had passed, the captain finally spoke, once again voicing the thoughts of everyone in the bridge. "...What he say?" "No chance survives you!!" The piece screamed in Soviet Russian, having taken the captain's words as a cue to continue its rant. "Time makes you!" "Ah ah ah ah ah..." And with that final taunt, the image of the Tetris block disappeared. Once more, the entire bridge fell into silence. The threat had been clear, though incoherent. They were going to die, and there was nothing they can do about it. As the entire room rocked once more due to the bombarding blocks, all eyes fell on their leader. The captain sat there in silence, his hands folded in front of his mouth and his eyes covered in shadows. "Captain?" The operator worriedly spoke, his calm tone sharply contrasting the fear he felt. "...launch every fighter." The captain grimly ordered, and the bridge crew nodded in understanding. They may die along with this base, but they will make sure that their aggressors will eventually follow them to their graves. After the command was given, the operator switched to the cameras in the hangar, and the captain grimaced when he saw that that area had not survived the attack unscathed. Beside him, the mechanic reported that out of their twenty-five anti-Galagan fighters, only five remained. The rest had either been crushed by falling debris or were sucked out into space before the emergency repair systems could seal away the destroyed sectors. Five... Only five fighters against whatever invading horde. It was impossible, but it will have to be enough. More orders were passed, and five pilots were brought to the hangar for their final mission. "You know what you're doing" The captain told the pilots boarding their respective space fighters. They were the best men they had, having racked more kills than anyone else. If anyone can do this, they can. "Move fighters!" The captain commanded, and the pilots activated their engines after the hangar crew cleared the way for the fighters. "For great justice!" The captain screamed just as the fighters zoomed out of the doomed base. A few seconds later, the entire space station exploded, unable to withstand the punishment the raining blocks dealt on it. Chapter 2 The crimson butterfly fluttered and flittered hither and thither around the endless space it called its home. How it fluttered and flittered around with no wind or support or practically any matter around was a mystery to everyone, including it, but the innocent insect didn't care. It was bliss just being able to flap its wings with not a care in the world. No hungry birds that wanted to eat it, no mean rain that wanted to bog it down, and no insane butterfly catchers that would want nothing else than to stick it in a jar filled with formaldehyde or stab needles through its wings to put it on display in a random notebook. No, this was pure paradise with nary a problem around. At this moment, it was in peace with itself. One missile later, and the crimson butterfly in peace, was now in pieces. In the view screen of one R-KED type Anti-Galagan fighter, a small window popped up, showing the helmeted face of one of the other pilots. "With all due respect sir, was that really necessary? That Galagan wasn't exactly attacking us or anything." The sir in question put on an exaggerated pose of thinking, cocking his head to the side while rubbing his chin with one gloved hand. After a few seconds of silence, interrupted only by him pressing the 'fire' button of his controls to make a random insect-like Galagan go kablooie, he finally gave his answer. "Yeah. I think it was." "Oh, okay. Sorry for bothering you sir" And the window winked out, as the five brave pilots continued their mission of search and destroy in the only way they knew how. By blowing up every enemy ship in sight. --- Perhaps, a bit of explanation is in order to understand why these five, brave soldiers are shooting down poor, hapless Galagans when their current enemies are the Tetris blocks. In this little node of the universe, reality is composed of only two parts. The first part is composed of the area where the Anti-Galagan ships reside when they're on downtime. I'm sure you've all seen it in the opening paragraphs of this little tale. Big space station, lots of people in it, probably some 80's-style sci-fi equipments installed in various sectors to make sure anything are kept running. There, things are fairly normal. Things move forward when you push, the distance of going somewhere is equal to the distance of going back, and going to point A is a simple process of walking there. That part covered approximately 0.34 percent of the Galagan universe, although after the arrival of the Tetris blocks, the percent it took up decided to round off to a more even 0. The other 99.26 percent is comprised of the area in space that had been lovingly dubbed as 'everything else,' and here, things are a little different. For one thing, insect-like alien Galagan ships patrol around the place at a 24/7-earth hours per day/days a week rate, although patrol isn't really an accurate word to use here, as instead of simply flying back and forth in easily recognized patterns while waiting for any intruder to dare enter their territory, the ships simply appear out of thin space before doing the entire flying back and forth thing. Oh, and the Galagans are infinite in number, although strangely enough, they seem to prefer attacking intruders in small, easily disposable swarms that replace themselves with slightly faster and generally harder ships over simply killing the usually lone fighters en masse. For another thing, the concept of distance (and every other concept that relies on distance) is a little warped in this portion of reality. Here, distance and movement is relative. Literally. In this universe, where every star seems to be in the same fixed place no matter where you go, one seriously has no idea whether they're actually going anywhere or not. And most of the time, the answer seems to be 'not'. Example? If a space fighter where to leave the 0.34 percent area of their universe that they call their base, wait until said base disappears from sight, go on full thrusters for a full hour (shooting down the occasional Galagan of course, no need to commit suicide for the sake of an experiment), and then turn around and go the opposite direction for just a second, they will find themselves face to face with image of their rapidly approaching base. In not so brief words, the reality of this area of Galaga is one where the laws of physics are horribly, horribly ****ed up. Since the distance and movement of this world is highly deceptive, the only way for a pilot to know that they're actually going anywhere is by shooting down Galagans. At least here, with vaporized Galagans being replaced with stronger Galagans (and occasionally, Galagans of a different species), they have some idea of progress. And with that explanation done, we bring you back to our space action drama. --- An indeterminate amount of time has passed since the five fighters had first flew out of the doomed base, and in that time, they had faced more Galagans in one sitting than they had ever thought of facing in a lifetime. But while things look bleak, with no end in sight, they still urged on, killing every insect-like ship in their search for the evil Tetris blocks. They were strong, they were tough, they were stubborn as all heck to end this all, they were So a Christian, a Muslim and a Jew all walk into the bar see, and Hey, guy telling jokes. Line of dragonflies coming from one oclock. POW POP PING BANG BOOM So anyway, they all go to the bartender and bored to death at the sheer monotony of it. Sir? The squad leader looked up at the main screen where a tiny window appeared for the umpteenth time that day, mouth twitchy, eye bags hanging and, all in all, in a state that can usually be seen amongst teenagers in front of a computer, playing a video game despite it being way past their bed time. Hn? Are you sure were going to find those block things? Weve been searching for hours now After staring back at the little staticy image of his fellow pilot like a zombie trying to understand the concept of opening a door, the squad leader finally gave a reply that was short and to the point. Private? Yes sir? Shut up. But sir, its not like Before the pilot can finish what he was saying, a new window popped up on the squad leaders view screen, showing another helmeted pilot. Sorry for interrupting sir, but theres another group of bogeys arriving. Twenty missiles later, courtesy of five well-trained fighters, and one dramatic, dust cloud inducing explosion later, and the squad leader and the private was back to talking about the current situation. Anyway sir, its not like we seem to be going anywhere. Weve been killing the same bees, butterflies, dragonflies, and those weird, big moth thingies over and over and over and over and Yes, private, I know Uh, sir? and were still going nowhere. I mean, seriously sir, how many more do we need to kill? I mean, killing things are fun and all, but Im getting a little restless just shooting the same aliens again and again Well gee private, if you feel that way, why dont you just go back to base. Oh wait! I forgot! WE DONT ****ING HAVE ONE ANYMORE! God, did you forget that were on a mission, and not a joy ride here!? Sir? I know were on a mission sir, but thats not the point! The point is, cant we try another method!? I mean, geez, this one doesnt seem to be working at all, and I dont think Im the only one getting tired from just killing Galagans over, and over, and over, and over, and Private! If youre so inclined to give us another fine method, then do so and stop your ****ing whining! Sir!? Well I dont really have one but Dont have an alternative? Then stop your Goddamn *****ing and get back to shooting down them Galagans, you little SIR! What is it, other private!? That last group of Galagans we shot down. We, err didnt exactly shoot them down It was just then that the squad leader took a second look at the dust cloud that was created after dispatching the last batch of Galagans. At a closer inspection, he noticed that, indeed, the alien ships were indeed alive and well and coming out of the dust cloud with nary a scratch on their surfaces. Their legs were whole, their wings still sparkly, and their paint job still as shiny and vibrantly colored as ever. Wait, vibrantly colored? He didnt remember the Galagans being that colorful. Or that shiny, for that matter. It was only then that he noticed the strange, smooth things covering various parts of the insectoid ships bodies, like armor on a medieval knight, giving them more than adequate protection from the fighters missiles. But the armor wasnt the important thing that the squad leader noticed, or rather the armor in general wasnt the important thing. No, what he mainly noticed was the appearance of the armor. Metallic, sort of roundish blocks of varied colors and shapes. Blocks tinted in red, blue, green, orange, and other colors of the spectrum, with the appearance like squares, lines, or letters. Slowly, a ****-eating grin spread across the features of the squad leader, as his eyes twinkled and his formerly tired facial features became more vibrant. Well boys, it would appear that were near our quarry. Its time to pay those blocky bastards back. Chapter 3 The two groups stared each other down, the five pilots in their respective ships, and the eight modified Galagans that foreshadowed of more to come. For an indeterminate amount of time, tension as thick as the core of a star enveloped the area, as they floated stock still for seemingly no reason at all, waiting for some kind of signal so that both sides can explode in a flurry of violence. Men? WASTE THOSE SON OF A *****ES!!! Hundreds of missiles were spent on the next few moments, and hundreds more were fired when the next batch of Galagans arrive. A large amount of space dust covered the horizon, obscuring their vision, but the Fighters never let up. Pound per pound and salvo after salvo the destructive projectiles flew, enough firepower to completely decimate a small country impacting unto the hostile alien ships in their silent rage. The next swarm came, and the next, and the next, and each time they redoubled their efforts, intent on destroying the menace as soon as possible, intent on ending this fruitless battle that their captain ordered them to begin. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? None of them knew how long they kept up their assault, but they eventually stopped the barrage of missiles. They waited a few moments to see if any more aliens will arrive, and sighed in relief as no more reinforcements came to avenge their comrades. Tired, spent, exhausted, and fatigued, the pilots slumped over, as their worn-out bodies finally decided that they could no longer take the toll this long mission had on them. Bodies shivered from the leftover adrenalin rush, and at least one of them vomited from a sudden feeling of nausea. Fingers trembled, and unconsciously held breaths released, and perspiration fell from their brow and watered their lips with its salty flavor. Inside his cockpit, the squad leader closed his eyes and let the warm aftertaste of the exertion wash over his body. He felt as though he couldnt move his fingers anymore, cold and stiff as they were from being in one position for so long, but he didnt care. They had succeeded in their mission. No being could survive that much punishment. A small giggle rose from his chest as the implication of that last statement hit him in full. They had finished their mission and avenged their friends. They had defeated the invaders despite being outnumbered. They had done the seemingly impossible. The small giggle grew to a boisterous laugh as he thought about it more and more, joy and relief filling him entirely. They had won. Four small windows appeared in his view screen while he was still in the middle of his laugh, showing the faces of four bewildered and worried pilots, wondering whether or not their leader had lost his mind. Sir? One of the pilots began, Are you all right? The leader continued his laughter, unmindful of the strange stares he was receiving. Im quite all right, private. This is simply a time for celebration! He said, his gruff voice sounding strange, tinged as it was with his disturbingly scratchy guffaw. And you said we werent progressing at all. Well then, since you seem to enjoy giving worthless advice, what do you think should we do now? The private chuckled self-consciously as his comrades snickered at the remark. Well sir, I His window went static as, outside, a ball of flame blossomed from the obliterated ship. No The pilots became silent, their joy dying in their throats as they watched the bloating corpse of their former companion float among the debris of his ship. No From inside the debris, a lone alien ship appeared, its entire body covered by a brilliantly colored fabric that folded around it like a cocoon as it floated peacefully amongst the scrapped metal. No And like the butterfly it was probably modeled from, the alien unwrapped itself, revealing a glorious set of wings coated with an intricate pattern of T and | blocks that shined as brilliantly as the most colorful of rainbows. NO And the butterfly flew back into the rapidly dissipating cloud of dust, rejoining its 39 friends, all as perfect and pristine as the first alien ship. no The squad leader repeated that single word over and over his mind. This could not be happening. By all logic they should have been destroyed. They had spent enough missiles to completely decimate at least two space bases. There should have been nothing left of the aliens bodies except for clouds of fine mist. And yet, there they were, in formation of ten, ten, eight, eight, and four. Twenty bees in the front two rows, their ordinarily tri-colored bodies now covered by a patchwork of multi-colored, segmented blocks, looking like insectoid versions of the fabled samurai of the Tokugawa era. Behind them were sixteen butterflies much like the one that destroyed one of the fighters, with crystalline wings shining impossibly like jewels, floating gracefully in the emptiness of space like graceful princesses from out of myths and legends. And at the rear most position stood the four lone Galaga Fighters, crab-like masters of war that loomed over everyone else with their size. Unlike the other two groups, these were still relatively the same as before, still covered with the familiar tints of yellow and green, giving one the impression of leaves found in the most lush of forests. Upon closer inspection, however, one may notice the pincers of the Galagans, now encrusted with the same blocks that inhabit the bodies of the other ships. All around their arms, colored bricks of squares, Ls, Ts, and Zs clung on like overly decorative bangles, glittering like the gems of a crown. This is not good, the squad leader thought, his men were greatly fatigued, but more importantly How how? How can they survive that much attacks! This is not happening, this is not happening Dead he was killed that quickly without him even knowing it and oog I dont feel too good hurk! Sir, no damages detected on enemy ships. Past patterns indicate that they will attack in approximately 10 seconds. We need a battle plan as quickly now, sir! We need some way to kill them! the sudden realization that their enemy may be invulnerable to their attacks has taken a heavy toll on their morale. They are neither physically nor emotionally fit for this and ****! ****! ****! Theyve begun to attack. Everybody, SCRAMBLE! But sir, how The **** with that! Move if you want to ****ing live! Like the kingfisher bird diving in for the kill, the Galagans swooped towards the four fighter ships with speed and grace, launching their own missiles along the way. Unable to fight back, the four pilots were forced to the defensive, evading the charging enemies at the best of their abilities, counting their blessings that, despite the upgrade in defense, their opponents still retained their old flight patterns. Circling, spinning, dodging at the last seconds, the two sides performed a dance of death that the Tetris-protected Galagans led. Banked his ship to the side, barely evading the attack of a dive-bombing bee-type alien, bank it again to barely slip past the second attack of the looping alien, bite back the vertigo that comes from pulling such a stunt. The squad leader grimaced as his head swam. This is not good, their experience is keeping them alive, but they cant keep this up forever if they couldnt find a way to fight back. Speed up to evade two missiles flying towards him, dive beneath the bees that close in, pull back before he gets crushed between two cocooned butterflies. All itd take for them to die is one mistake, and considering how jittery they were inside this swarm, it wont be long before that one mistake is made. Kill one engine to execute a quick turn before crashing into a crab-like Galagan fighter and its butterfly escorts, activate the engine again to escape from a coming missile courtesy of a bee-type Galagan, counter with your own set of missiles in the hopes of scoring a kill, curse wildly as the missiles explode harmlessly on its shell. There has got to be a way to kill them. Theres always a way. But how? How how how how ho- No! Not now! **** **** **** **** **** **** ****! A window had appeared on his view screen, revealing an image obscured by static. Sir, help! Tractor beam caught me! Cant esca- The image suddenly cut-off, which means that the pilot is either captured, or worse, dead. A quick side-glance revealed it to be the former, not that the squad leader felt any relief from that revelation. If they cant save the pilot within a certain amount of time, he would be possessed and theyd have yet another enemy in their hands. Usually, theyd just kill the captor and their ship would be free, but considering how they dont even know how to damage them **** those bastards! The leader muttered to himself. **** them! **** them! The crab-like Galagan fighter flew to formation with its quarry, with the other Galagans following it. Once more, the organized swarm looked back at them with emotionless stares, still complete with numbers of ten, ten, eight, eight, and four. On the other side, the three remaining pilots shivered with fear, rage and uncertainty, the possibility of their deaths, foremost in their minds. A small blipping sound alerted the squad leader to an incoming transmission. What the hell do you want, private. He said, his voice still as gruff as ever despite knowing of his imminent doom. Sir, Id like to ask a question. The pilot said, unfaltered by the scratchy tone in his leaders voice. The squad leader made a face, making sure that his annoyed feeling is known Make it quick, I want to at least have some time for myself before I spend the rest of my afterlife sleeping with the Galagans. Id just like to know, why is it that we dont have any names? For a moment, everything seemed to pause, as the entire universe seemed to have blinked from the out-of-placeness of the question. An eye twitched, blood pressure climbed, nerves crossed, and somewhere in the cockpit of fighter ship R-KED, bacteria floating in the path of the enraged glare of a certain squad leader died for no reason at all. WHAT!? Well, Ive always wondered why we never seem to call ourselves anything else besides Captain, Mechanic, Private, Sir The private continued with a cheerful smile, blatantly ignoring the Ill kill you now expression on his leader. WHY THE **** ARE YOU ASKING THAT AT THIS TIME!? The leader screamed, continuing the verbal equivalent of caps lock abuse. I just need to know, sir. The pilot said, his expression suddenly serious. The squad leader took one look at his subordinates face and sighed, his anger dissipating in favor of weariness. I have no ****ing idea, private. Were soldiers, not historians. I guess it might have something to do with our lives revolving around one-man almost suicide missions against the Galagans. Maybe in the end, we just said to hell with names or some **** like that. Why the **** do we need to remember people whose only purpose is to die, after all. The private cocked his head to the side as though in thought then nodded his head, his smile returning. Thanks sir. Hey private. The squad leader suddenly said before his subordinate can cut-off the transmission. I wasnt listening earlier. What did happen to the Christian, the Muslim and the Jew when they went into the bar? The private smirked. Well sir, Ill tell you the answer on two conditions. His leader shrugged. Yeah, yeah, whatever. First, we both survive this war. And second And the Galagans began their attack once more, swooping down like birds of prey, with intent to deal grievous harm on their victims of that day. you do not forget the faces and identities of the brave soldiers who went with you on this mission. And to the surprise of the other two pilots, the third suddenly rushed forward, flying straight into the center, firing missiles that still proved to be as ineffective against their modified enemies as before. Private! The leader shouted, spittle flying out from his mouth, What do you think youre doing? Our ships were not made to challenge the Galagans head-on like that! Youre going to get yourself killed! And the private laughed. Laughed as he continued fired one missile after another at the indestructible alien ships. Whats wrong with that, sir? Thats all that we are, right? Just sad fighters made for the sole purpose of fighting until we die, unless if we get lucky and somehow get an obscene amount of kills! This is what we live for! You idiot! The head pilot screamed after twisting his ship around to evade a pair of incoming butterfly-type ships. Just because were suicide fighters doesnt mean you should actually try to kill yourself! I dont see why not. The private replied while he fired two missiles in response to a nearby bee-type Galagans one. The first missile intercepted the opponents perfectly, while the other exploded harmlessly on the alien-ships Tetris-armored shell. We wont survive anyway, and even if we did, we dont exactly have a home to return to. If Im going to die, Ill die in a blaze of glory! Stubborn bastard. The leader said through clenched teeth as he tried to concentrate on his evasion skills while getting angry at his pig-headed soldier Were going to live through this, but were not going to if youll disobey orders like an annoying brat! Youre either stupid or insane if you think you can kill them all on your own With all due respect sir, the private said venomously while flew above a pair of butterfly-type Galagans and fired at the crab-type Galagan they were protecting. Shut up. Werent you the one who talked about payback earlier? I dont see any payback happening while were prancing around like scared little rabbits in a meadow. A split-second before the missiles could touch the Galagan Fighter; the alien raised its pincers, deflecting the destructive projectiles with ease. And I am not stupid sir, although I guess Im debatably insane right now. Farewell sir. And with those words, he cut-off the transmission. The private gunned his engine, watching the various aliens fly past him as he pushed his ship to its very limits. Taking aim at a clump of butterflies nearing him, he launched another barrage of missile while he accelerated, grinning to himself as he began an outer space variant of chicken. Despite the rage he felt in his heart, and the frazzled state of his mind, he felt oddly at peace. I wonder, he mused to himself while the butterflies cocooned themselves to block the missiles, if this was how the captain felt when he knew he was about to die? Red light shone everywhere in his cockpit as alarms blared, warning him of the foolishness of a large obstacle that was in a collision course with him, but he didnt mind them. He was now coming close to the enemy and going far too fast to escape. He released the trigger and closed his eyes, embracing his fate with open arms. The explosion was as bright as it was silent, releasing a light intense enough for the two remaining pilots to notice despite being pre-occupied with matters of their life and death. We have lost the life signal of another pilot sir. The last remaining private said, as the Galagans returned to their ore-fight positions once more. Theres only the two of us left. The squad leader shook his head at the news. They were dying far too quickly for his tastes, and they had yet to even make a scratch at their opponents. The leader glared at the aliens organized formation, seeing them still the same number of ten, ten, eight, six, and four The captain blinked and counted again, and again, and again, and again. Ten, ten, eight, six, four. Ten, ten, eight, six, four. Two of the butterflies and somehow been destroyed, but how? The squad leader clicked a few buttons and opened a communication link to his last remaining subordinate. Private, youre using the MEM fighter ship, right? The one thats able to record battles? Yes, sir. In fact, the battle recorder has been running ever since we began this mission. The pilot replied, a bit of curiosity in his voice. Ah, good. Can you send me the video recording of our recently deceased friends last moments? Just a second sir. A few clickety sounds were heard. Now sending video. The squad leader patiently waited for the download bar reach full and clicked the play button. The events of the past few minutes replayed in his eyes, and he watched them intently, scrutinizing every minute detail that he might have missed the first time they unfolded. There was the NS fighter, spamming its cheap as hell turbo fire. There were the Galagans, swarming all over the place. There was the tight group of butterflies, unaffected by the missiles that should have destroyed them long ago. And there was that berserk pilot, foregoing his missiles in favor of simply crashing into the butterflies, taking out two of them with him. No, that cant be the answer. If the only way to destroy them was by sacrificing themselves, theyd be wiped out long before they would. Besides, if that were the case, the first pilot they lost would have taken out one of the butterflies with him. If that wasnt the answer, then what is? He needs to see what happened during those last precious moments. Rewind, play, slowdown. He fired missiles repeatedly at the cocoons before slamming into them, was that it? No, if that was the case, they should have been destroyed during the barrage. Rewind, play, slowdown. The aliens were close when they blew up, could that be it? No, if that was the case, they should have been destroyed long before he crashed into them. Rewind, play, slowdown. He fired his missiles, he accelerated, he got close to the aliens and a few seconds before he crashed, he stopped firing and a few seconds before he crashed, the butterflies began unwrapping themselves and a few seconds before he crashed, the non-block covered section of the butterflies were revealed and then he slammed into the main body of the butterfly, obliterating it except for the wings, which flew towards another unwrapping butterfly, taking it out as well. Unfortunately, the other butterflies had wrapped themselves up once more, protecting them from the scattering scrap metals, but he didnt care. He now knew how to kill these bastards. Theyre weaknesses were so simple that he should have realized sooner had he only been thinking straight. Sir, the Galagans have begun their attack again. No time for regrets. Its time for revenge. Private, I want you to follow me and fire your missile at the Galagan bastard Im going to target when I say so, understand? The private nodded his head, Understood The Galagans came like black rain, fast and furious and deadly to the touch. But the two pilots navigated around the insect-like fighters without trouble, instincts and reflexes sharpened from long years of fighting for their lives allowing them to weave between ships with ease. Bee-type, another bee-type, a lone crab-type, the squad leader quickly scanned the aliens that passed him, looking for that specific specie to test his theory. Bee, bee, alien missile there! The butterfly-type Galagan entered his sights, and he fired a single missile at it and watched as it began to cocoon itself in response. He waited until the missile was just a few meters away from its destination before ordering his fellow pilot to fire. The second missile screamed past him from below, just as the first exploded against the butterflys protective shield. Keeping mindful of any stray Galagan that might suddenly attack him, he watched the projectile fly forward in a straight line, while the butterfly began unwrapping its wings. The missile struck true, exploding against the Galagans chest, destroying it completely save for its indestructible Tetris-encrusted appendages. And for the first time in a while, the squad leader smiled. Not so tough in the parts without those blocky shields, eh *****es? Private! Scan the bee-types and the crab-types for sections unprotected by those ****ing blocks. Affirmative sir. Scanning for weak spots now. The private responded, his blank face perfectly hiding the rising hope he felt within. Targets confirmed. The bee-types are covered with the blocks, except for their missile launchers located in their underbelly. The crab-types on the other hand, are completely unprotected, except for their arms. Well now, the commander said, his old toothy grin returning, Its Galaga hunting season. Slowly but surely, the tides began to turn. With the weak parts of he Galagans found, their numbers lessened one by one. Truth be told, even with the weak spots found, the process of actually hitting them was no easy task. The unprotected area of the bees was barely large enough for a missile to fit in, very much akin to the eye of a needle to the missiles thread. The fact that the bees were the squirrelliest of the Galagans did not make matters any easier. As for the butterflies, hitting their main body required split-second timing, as they were only vulnerable for a few seconds before they were able to fold their wings around them again. However, as the pilots had spent most of their lives inside their ships, their senses and skills being honed battling Galagans day and night, memorizing their patterns and the perfect away to counter them, the impossible sounding tasks were all just another days work for them. The only problem they had, were the crab-type Galagan fighters, and that was resolved pretty quickly. Sir, the crab-types pincers block the missiles a lot faster than the butterflies wings. I cant get through its defenses. Looking away from his tenth kill, the squad leader took one glance at the Galagan Fighter deflecting the missiles with ease, and noticed the familiar ship being towed behind it. Huh! I knew I forgot something. He mused o himself while he casually destroyed another butterfly-type. Observing the Galagan Fighters method of blocking closely, an idea brewed in his mind. Keep him occupied kid, I have a plan. One quick dash and two launched missiles later, and the crab-like alien exploded to smithereens, its pincers apparently only able to block one side at a time. Consequently, now with its captor destroyed, the Fighter ship spun out of control, its pilot still slightly disoriented from the capture. Left alone, he probably would have crashed into a stray missile or Galagan, ending his life so soon after his liberation. Fortunately for him, his squad leader was nearby, and after he activated his ships specialized tractor beam, his ship was stabilized and both Fighters were inter-connected by their wings. You okay, soldier? The squad leader said, opening a line to the rescued pilot ship. Yeah, sir. Im fine, just a little dizzy. The private said, moments before executing a multi-colored yawn. The commander grimaced in disgust at the sickly sounds that came from the comm. link. Youre in no condition to fight right now. Hand over the control of your ship to me until you get your bearings back. Ye- yes sir. Thats probably for the best And with their firepower effectively tripled by one and a half with the return of their comrade, the last remnants of Anti-Galagan Force finished the battle in a small amount of time. v The three pilots breathed heavily as they inspected the Galagan space graveyard for any more signs of life. Then they waited to see if there would be any reinforcements arriving to avenge the deaths of their comrades. When none came, they finally sighed a breath of relief. Its over now, right private? Yes sir. No more Galagans suddenly popping out of nowhere? No sir. No stupid blocks setting us up or something? No sir. No ****ing modified alien ships suddenly coming back from the dead? No sir. The squad leader tried to imagine anything else that might go wrong and found himself out of ideas. Not that it surprised him; he never was one for creativity. Its bad trait to have in the battlefield. Makes you see things that arent really there. Well then, lets go home. But sir, we have no base, to call our home anymore, remember? The squad leader frowned, remembering the words of the soldier whose sacrifice gave them a chance for survival. Well, then lets go choose a random star, call it a sun, and ride off towards it. If you say so sir. And so, the three remaining survivors of the Anti-Galagan Force rode off to a random star and lived happily ever after, even though they were never heard from again. ~~~ Oh, if only things can end that way. What the ****? The squad leader screamed as the warning klaxons in his ship went crazy. This cant be right. Another pilot said. The only way that the alarms can go off is if were about to crash into something. What the hell could we crash into!? Were in the middle of nowhere! The squad leader shouted as he fired a missile in frustration. The missile flew 50 meters forward, before suddenly detonating. Behind the fires and smoke of the explosion, a blue glow shimmered for a few seconds, giving the impression of a metal wall with strange patterns on them, before disappearing in empty space. The private who normally exuded an outside appearance of calm, stared with open-mouthed astonishment. An energy field ****, the squad leader thought, This cant be happening. Not after all that weve been through. Private! Scan the energy field! See how far it goes Y-yes sir. S-scanning now The private said, swallowing audibly. Scan completed. Energy field is a perfect rectangular prism. X-axis length is 200 kilometers. Z-axis is also 200 kilometers. Y-axis is 1000 kilometers. No gaps found in the field, but there are large concentrations of energy found face of this prism 926 kilometers above us. Also an object with dimensions of 20 km, 20 km, and 80 km is rapidly falling and oh ****! Sir! Move out of that area, now! The squad leader not the type to ask any questions, the fighter ship R-KED veered to the side at full speed, moments before a huge red pillar landed where he was hovering above with a heavy boom. What the Who the **** is dropping things on us!? The squad leader screamed to no one in particular while the pilot he was towing held his rapidly beating heart, his dizziness dashed away by shock. Then, as though to answer the leaders query, a voice that seemed to come from the very walls of the energy container suddenly spoke. Gentlemen are you how!! The pilots eyes widened. All us are belong to your worlds!! That voice On the way to destruction are you!! There was simply no mistaking that incomprehensibility. No chance to survive have you!! **** The squad leader articulately said. **** **** **** **** ****! Time makes you! As though punctuating that last statement, there was a flash of light, and the energy barrier that made up the walls of their prison became visible as the same blue wall they caught a glimpse of earlier, the patterns embossed on its metallic surface now recognizable as strange shapes that look similar to the letter z. Then as though through magic, a catchy Russian jig began playing all around them, a happy tune that seemed to taunt their grim situation. One of the privates took one look at his scanners, took one look at the pillar that fell earlier, took one look above at another rapidly descending thing, then looked at the pissed-off image of his commanding officer. were in trouble, arent we? No **** Chapter 4 I am the Squad Leader of the nameless unit that the Anti Galagan Force had sent for its final mission of vengeance. Age 36, born in the same medical bay of the Space Station that I had resided all my life, pilot of the Fighter Ship R-KED, and before you ask, no I have no ****ing name. I had been a full-fledged pilot since I was 13, and have been promoted to this position for racking one of the most kills in battle. In a way, I am a veteran, although if you think about it, being a ****ing veteran only meant that you had lived a whole **** longer than the average pilot. I wish I can say the same damned things like those geezers of old, like how I had survived three ****ing wars and how I had received many ****ing medals and recommendations, but I would be lying if I said that. After all, we only had one war that anyone living can remember, one ****ing long war, and since I lived in a world where everyone was a soldier just waiting to die from one damned missile, medals of exemplary bravery and such would be pretty damned stupid. No, in the world I lived in, every soldier only lived to die so that others can live to do the same. There is no glory; only an endless cycle of fighting that seemed to have been passed down from one generation to another ever since we had left Earth. No fame either, since we had dropped the need for names sometime back then, so when we die, few will remember who we are and what we did Which is why Im now talking to you like this. You may have been a little surprised that I had done this suddenly, seemingly out of no ****ing rhyme or reason, but I had made a promise to someone before all of this ended, someone who was a lot braver than me So before you go, I would like to ask you to listen to the story of the brave, crazy pilots who had gone with me and I ask you to remember them, so that their sacrifices would not have been completely in vain Tetris vs. Galaga: The Final Chapter The End of the Beginning and the Beginning of the End It had been a long battle They had survived the attack on our base. They had survived the endless swarms that got in the way of our mission. They had even mostly survived those ****ing Galagan hybrids. Any avid reader of the action genre knows that just based on the trials they had gone through, the three remaining pilots should be able to go through whatever traps or hardships that their opponent would throw at them. The rules of drama had given them the role of the struggling heroes, and drama dictates that should any heroes face insurmountable odds, they will always come out on top. However, there are times when not even the rules of drama can challenge the will of fate Squad leader! Our missiles arent even scratching them! Sir, Ive scanned their entire bodies, but I cant find any weak points. Theyre made of that same metal that covered the modified Galagans both inside and out. And the fruitless battle continued, as the last remnants of the Anti-Galagan force desperately held to their will to survive, a will that was quickly fading. --- This was our sorry situation; our missiles were now officially useless since the blocks are fricking invincible, we couldnt run away even if we wanted to since we were completely surrounded by those ****ing blue walls, whatever confidence we had from beating those hybrids was now gone especially after weve come to the conclusion that they were probably just honor guards or some ****, and that blasted music was driving all of us crazy. Well, I had no ****ing idea what to do with most of those, but I can do something about that last one. No, not that annoying background music, although I wish I could. I meant the other last one. --- The three flew around their prison like birds trapped inside the cage of a sadist. Barely avoiding the falling blocks, barely dodging the strangely shaped silver towers that they left in their wake. The pilots were skilled, but they were not used to fighting in this type of terrain. The Galagan battles they had took place in empty regions of space where obstacles where not a problem. The Tetris battle they were having now added an extra handicap against them in the form of the rapidly piling up pillars that threatened to choke them of their maneuverability. Inside their cockpits, the two privates only had one thing in their minds. They were now going to die. They had now reached their limits, and they were going to die. There was no way they can win this day. Why fight? That was when the face of their squad leader appeared in their video monitors. Men, he said, keeping his game face on to keep morale up, I know things look grim hell, Im currently *****ing my pants right now, but weve come too far to die this easily The fighter ship R-KED banked a few feet to the right, just as a large piece of metal that looked like a flattened stepladder dropped past where it was floating. Inside the ship, a few muttered curses could be heard, followed by a highly annoyed blasted blocks breaking my inspirational speech comment. and we are not going to let ourselves get killed by a bunch of ****ing blocks without a fight! The squad leader continued, his expression still the same, looking as though he didnt just almost get flattened by a falling block, I dont ****ing care if theyre made of adamantium or pixel dust or whatever! I dont ****ing care if these same blocks blew up our ****ing base! We accepted this mission to kick some alien butt because we did not want to just roll over and die like some old *****, and we are going to kick some alien butts! We may not win, hell, we may not even live, but that doesnt mean we wont ****ing try! Were going to show these alien **** that we humans are made of tough stuff, and we are going to bite them back for all those time they bit our asses! And should we win the day, today will no longer be just another day! But as the day when we declared in one voice, we will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today, we celebrate our Independence Day! There was a slight pause, before one of the privates responded quizzically. Independence Day sir? Kid, I like you, but as my pappy used to tell me, Just shut up and shoot those ****ing aliens! Sir, yes sir! --- Ill admit. It wasnt that much of a speech. It didnt really have any ****ing meaning other than a bunch of words strung together to sound like it did. Hell, I think I stole some of the lines from an old streaming video I saw before. But then again, an inspirational speech didnt really need to make sense. It just needed to rouse spirits so that your soldiers will forget the little fact that theyre probably going to die. And as I watched my soldiers fly their fighter ships fly in maneuvers I didnt know they could do, I think it succeeded in doing that. We werent doing more damage than before, but hell, at least we werent just randomly running around like some chickens with their heads cut off. Lots of explosions, lots of fire, lots of noise, zero damage and the block joins the rest of its brethren piling themselves up in the ground. Our firepower was useless, but at least our spirits were high. Because in this war hell, in any kind of war, if your army loses their spirit, you may as well admit defeat. They were good men. Skilled piloting, damn good accuracy, and most importantly, they know how to shut off their brains when theyre not panicking. It may seem like a bad thing to do, but in a fight, the smallest bit of distraction can lead one to death, and soldiers who think over things too much in the heat of battle usually find themselves floating in space in pieces. But sadly, in war, all the courage and discipline in the world is never enough if you do not have any damn firepower to back it with So why the hell was forcing my men to continue on even though we lacked the strength to beat these bastards? Because Im a firm believer of luck, and that lady has a tendency to be fashionably late when it comes to handing out changes of fortunes. --- With their spirits renewed, the fighters fought for hours on end, firing missiles with wild abandon, using flight maneuvers that dazzle the eyes of anyone possibly watching. Their ammo had no visible effects, and they were slowly running out of flying space as the towers rose and rose with each passing minute, but they didnt care. They had accepted this mission, and they were going to give it their all to end it one way or another. SKREEEEEEEEE "****!" And from the looks of things, it was going to end in another way. The cramp space of the battlefield meant that they had to use riskier maneuvers if they were to survive. This meant entering crevices, going through Tetris-made tunnels and flying between towers to escape by the skin of their teeth. Considering how unused they were in doing such circus tricks, it was a miracle that they had survived this long. A miracle that had just run its full course ****! The squad leader screamed as he grappled with the controls. What the ****ing hell is wrong with this piece of ****? Sir! You tilted your fighter ship too much when you flew between those two blocks. One of the privates answered, more than a little frightfully. Your wings are stuck to them ****! ****! What else can go wrong!? As anyone who had uttered those dreaded words know all too well, fate had a bit of a sadistic streak when it comes to responding to that simple question. A flash thunderstorm after your car dies out in the middle of nowhere, an ex-convict with a gun pointed at your head after your pockets been picked, a dog happily chewing on the remains of your month-long Science project after you spilled water on your homework, if deities were to exist in this vast multiverse of ours, chances are very good that they come with a very good ear, and an evil sense of humor. Take the current situation of our brave leader for example. Just after getting wedged between two silvery block thingies, a blue, squarish piece of metal appeared above his plane, descending at a steady rate of 20 kilometers per second like one of those pendulums that the crusaders loved to use so much. Not liking his near-future of becoming a red, splatty piece of meat on one of those blocks, the squad leader doubled his efforts of getting out of his predicament, twisting his joystick to the side while pressing the accelerate button as much as possible in hopes of shaking himself loose. There was a sound like a screechier and longer version of nails getting dragged across the surface of a blackboard, and the squad leader grinned as hope sprung eternal. Then he looked up and saw how close the block was to him and hope wilted and dropped to the bottom of his stomach. Im ****ed He said philosophically, summarizing his situation in one neat sentence. Then the block got pushed away at the last second as one of the privates crashed his ship into the block, carrying it away from his leader through sheer momentum. The leader watched with his jaw agape as the plane burst into flames and fell apart, with no parachute or anything like that suddenly coming out at the last moment like an awfully localized cartoon. Then he saw the square block slowly descend into one of the gaps in the pile of silver towers and disappear like magic. Along with an entire row of blocks. Hope climbed out of his stomach and stood strong once more once the squad leader wrenched himself free, and it was pissed at the blocks beyond belief. --- Like before, blind luck showed us the path to victory, and like before, it came with a price. Another one of my men was dead, but thanks to his self-sacrifice we had a fighting chance. The next few hours was like playing a ****ing puzzle game with a cat-and-mouse type interface. We flew around the place, baiting the pieces into the holes, and we flew away at the last moment, watching with much delight as another row disappeared. The task was long and tedious. The towers had piled up to an amazing height of 800 kilometers by the time we figured out how to get rid of them, and considering how the lines were 20 km high, that alone meant 40 lines that needed to be removed. But thats if disregarding width. Since the dimensions of each floor was 200 by 200, that meant around 10 lines that needed to be removed every 20 kilometers. So if you put both those figures together, it meant 400 ****ing lines that needed to be removed by slowly and carefully leading the blocks to the right spots, at least. Why at least? Because there were around seven different blocks that were being dropped and those blasted pieces of **** were being dropped randomly. You have no ****ing idea how annoying it is to need one of those red long ones, only for whatever goddamned machine up there to drop one of those yellow T blocks! Stupid ****ingly, ****ed up piece of ****ing ****! But we held on, despite the headaches, and despite many frustrations, and after a long, long time, we were finally down to the last line. --- The long, vertical, red block descended towards the floor where the last line was being constructed. Slowly slowly Oh no you ***ing dont! Two barrages of missiles came from opposite ends of the block, forcing it to for a more horizontal stature. Slowly slowly Contact! And with a strange bloop sound, the last line disappeared. The two exhausted pilots sighed in relief. Well private, looks like its just you and me now. Yes sir. Wed lost a lot of things, wed lost a lot of people, but hell looks like we finally won. If you want to call this winning, anyway Yes sir. So, anything you want to do now after we find a way out of this prison box? Search for some planet to stay in? Shoot some more Galagans? Try to develop some ****ing cloning technique and recreate the human race? The squad leader didnt get a response. Instead, he got a lot of static. We quickly turned his head to where his companion was and saw a pile of crushed metal underneath an L block. The Tetris invaders were far from dead. --- You have no idea how it feels to achieve victory, only to find your last partner dead. You have no idea how it feels like to go through much hardship only to find out that it didnt amount to anything. You have no idea how it feels like to see that you are now all alone after having just recently been talking with a group of people you can consider as friends sometime ago. You have no idea how it feels like to be happy at one moment, and find out that everything thats right is wrong again. --- YOU ****ERS! YOU ****ING ****ERS! **** YOU! **** YOU! The squad leader flew upwards in the cage firing missiles all the way, flying higher and higher, pushing his ship faster and faster until he could not push it anymore. What the **** are you!? Why the **** cant we beat you!? Why!? WHY!? His knuckles were white from having gripped the controls too hard, and his eyes were red, both literally and figuratively as sorrow and rage battled in his heart. We struggled long and hard just to be at peace. We fought those Galagans even though we were outnumbered. We fought your hybrid flunkies even though we knew we couldnt possibly kill them. We ****ing played your ****ing game even though we were tired and pushed to the edge just so we might kill you! The outside was just a blur of blue, with the occasional smudge of a different color as he dodged a falling piece almost as a side thought. We had done more than you! We played a more active role in this world! You just sat here and looked pretty! What did you do? What did you do to deserve beating us!? And his ship climbed higher and higher. 700 kilometers. 750. 800. 850. 900 WHY!? WHY. CANT. WE. BEAT. YOU!!!? At 926 kilometers, he reached a strange swirling portal, and everything flashed white 001011010111001101110011011010010110110101101 001011011000110000101110100011010010110111101 101110001000000110000101101100011011010110111 101110011011101000010000001100011011011110110 110101110000011011000110010101110100011001010 010111000100000001000000100000101101100011011 000010000001100111011000010110110101100101011 100110010000001101111011001100010000001001101 011101010110110001110100011010010111011001100 101011100100111001101100101001000000101001101 001000010011010101010101010000010100110010000 001101110011011110111011100100000011000010110 001001110011011011110111001001100010011001010 110010000101110001000000010000001001111011011 100110110001111001001000000010111000110000001 100000011000100100101001000000110111101100110 001000000111010001101000011001010010000001101 100011000010111001101110100001000000101001101 001000010011010101010101010000001000000111001 001100101011011010110000101101001011011100110 100101101110011001110010111000100000001000000 010000001000110011010010110111001100001011011 000010000001010000011100100110111101100111011 100100110000101101101001000000110001101110101 011100100111001001100101001011010010000000100 000010000010100000101000001010000010100000101 000001010000010100000101000001010000010100000 101000001010000010100000101000001010000010100 000101000001010000010100000101000001010000010 100000101000001010000010100000101000001010000 010100000101000001010000010100000101000001010 000010100000101000001010000010100000101000001 010000010100000101000001010000010100000101000 001010000010100000101000001010000010100000101 000001010000010100000101000001010000010100000 101000001010000010100000101000001010000010100 000101000001010000010100000101000001010000010 100000101000001010000010100000101000001010000 010100000101000001010000010100000101000001010 000010100000101000001010000010100000101000001 010000010100000101000001010000010100000101000 001010000010100000101000001010000010100000101 000001010000010100000101000001010000010100000 101000001 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH The fighter ship R-KED crashed into the ground, half-pinned under the weight of a blue square block. Inside his cockpit, the squad leader gasped for air, a piece of the wreckage of the ship having punctured one of his lung. He tried to move but he finds that he couldnt, his legs having been crushed and his left arm torn off. He tried to move the ship with his remaining arm, but the engines only whined uselessly. And as he stared up into the heavens, he saw a small green speck that rapidly grew into the form of an N block. SQUISH And everything stopped. Including the music. A more fast-paced Russian song came in to replace it, as a rocket ship made completely off Tetris blocks flew past just outside the prison and hordes of Russians danced to the jig being played by a small band that had appeared as well. And all around them, Galagans began appearing out of nowhere, and their bodies became blockier, their paint more colorful, their sheen more bright, as their limbs transformed into Tetris blocks before breaking off to join their fellow Tetris pieces --- And so, that is our story. After that last piece fell on me, I felt myself float away from my body and towards that bright light I saw, and here I am now unable to move, unable to see only able to somehow feel the presence of others such as you My body and soul so tired so tired need to rest please I just ask you to spread our story spread our tale not to let us just die forgotten In front of him, he felt the person he was talking to nod. Thank you And he finally slept, his soul dispersing as it finally gave itself up. The Long Red Block had watched it all with keen interest. That last .001% had been quite troublesome, and talkative. It hadnt cared much for its story, but since he needed to let that last thing out for him to finally be set free to join his friends. Around him, words formed. Unintelligible to those who were not part of it, but very readable for those who were. > Final .001% confirmed. Universe codename: Galaga now accepted. 90% of Final Program completed. > Now transferring to Universe codename: Pong. Ratio of success: 73% > Commencing next phase of Final Program. ~*Fin*~ Back |