The Zingon Encounter

by The Cowboy   1 February 1988

Captain's log. Stardate 8802.01. Starbeat Command has ordered me to the edge of the Zingon/Fodderation neutral zone, where many Zingon ships are reported to be gathering. The reason for this gathering is unknown.

Captain Jerk strode into the briefing room, stifling a yawn. He took a seat in the rear of the room, and attempted to concentrate on what his Vulgarian first officer was saying.

"... and therefore," first officer Skunk was saying, "if the Zingons are about to launch an attack the odds that the Boobyprize will survive are 47.329 to 1 against. However, if their purpose is not to attack us, th ..."

"Whadda ya mean, not attack us?" interjected the ship's doctor, Lenny "Moans" McCrotch. "Zingons are the nastiest creatures in the universe. They eat blue meanies for breakfast. They pick their teeth in public. They fart in airlocks. They beat up old ladies in the streets. And, they build their spaceships without bathrooms just so they'll be even nastier." He paused to catch his breath, then continued, "And those are just their good points."

Chief Engineer Snott took this opportunity to display his fine grasp of the situation. "I dinna understan' whot in the bloody blue blazes your talkin' about, mon!"

Jerk was about to enter the verbal free-for-all when he received a call from the bridge. "Captain," Mr. Zulu's voice said, "we have arrived at the Z/F zone. There appears to be about twenty ships here of varying sizes, but none larger than a cruiser."

"Thank you, Zulu," said the Captain. "Find a place to park and feed the meter. I'll be right up." He looked up to Mr. Skunk standing amidst a mound of unconscious bodies. He decided not to ask. "Come on, let's get to the bridge."

Upon arriving at the bridge, Jerk ordered a sensor scan and a ham on rye. He opened a wine cooler and began flipping channels on the big TV to try to get the best picture he could of the fleet. Soon, Skunk had a report.

"Sensor scans reveal," he began, "that the various ships are transporting down large numbers of cargo crates to the planet they are encircling. These crates appear to contain some form of life."

"Intelligent life?" Jerk asked, pleased that he had a straight line.

"Impossible to tell," stated Skunk flatly.

"Jimmie, boy," drawled Moans as he stepped onto the bridge, "you jes gotta lemmee bleam down an' git a look at dem critters. They might need our help."

"It would be the logical thing to do," Skunk admitted, returning McCrotch's southern salute with an ancient Vulgarian ceremonial hand signal.

"All right," said Jerk, "We'll bleam down. I won't bother calling for a staff meeting, as you'll all agree with me anyway." He activated the intracom. "Mr. Snott, are we within xporter range of the planet?"

The reply was instant. "I don' know, siar. The systems may no' take the strain. I'll have to boost the gain to get ya there, and it may cause xporter damage if I do. Then we'll ha' no way to get you back."

"I'll take that risk," said Jerk. "Mr. Skunk, go find a couple of security goons and meet Moans and me in the xporter room."

"Captain," Skunk said in a quiet voice, "how many security goons ... er, officers does a Constipation class ship such as the Boobyprize normally carry?"

"Let's see ... forty-three," answered Jerk.

"And how many fatalities have we had among security since the start of this season?"

"Um ... forty-thr ... er, I get your point. Well, does anybody here want to put in a transfer to Security?" he asked the bridge crew, who all did a remarkable job of not hearing him.

"No matter," stated Jerk, "We won't need security anyway. There can't be more than five or six hundred Zingons over there. Let's go."

"Seven hundred, fifty-two point seven, to be exact," Skunk said as they stepped aboard the elevato ... er, turbolift.

"How d'ya git sev'n tenths of a Zingon?" McCrotch muttered to himself.

Soon, they were on the surface of the planet. Luckily, the temperature and atmosphere were inside human tolerances. Amazing, since no one had thought to scan before they bleamed down. After taking quadcorder readings, Skunk told them they were just a few miles ... er, kilometers from a large stack of cargo crates giving off very strong life form readings. They began to walk ...

Meanwhile, back in the xporter room, Snotty had just set off several smoke bombs, and was reporting to the bridge that the xporter would be inoperative until after the next commercial break. He also reported that the landing party had forgotten to take their fizzlers with them.

On the planet, Jerk was attempting to force open one of the crates. When he succeeded, out spilled several thousand small, fuzzy creatures, which began to mewl and trill. "Nibbles!" stated Jerk, his voice slightly muffled as it came from underneath a very large pile of them. "No wonder the Zingons are getting rid of them."

"That's not the worst of it, Jimmie, boy," drawled Moans, "my fancy salt shaker here tells me these nibbles are carniver ... er, caineverou ... er, man eaters."

Jerk had just independently verified this fact, as he was staring straight at a nibble when it smiled at him, showing a very large mouth full of very sharp teeth. He quickly panicked and pulled himself free of the pile. He whipped out his communicator.

"Snotty, save my ass!" he screamed, expecting to be bleamed up so fast the air would crackle.

"Sorry, sair," was the reply, "But an arbitrary plot contrivance has made the xporter inoperative."

Jerk turned to his companions, who were beating off the nibbles with their quadcorders, and did the only two things he could think of. He wet his pants and fainted.

Captain's log, Stirdate 8802.08, First officer Skunk reporting: After checking Zingon activity, Captain Jerk, Dr. "Moans" McCrotch, and myself bleamed down to the planet, on which we discovered several cargo crates containing a new species of carniverous nibbles... small, round, furry creatures with voracious appetites, which, luckily, Dr. McCrotch was able to temporarily inebriate by use of a large dose of neo-LSD, and during their subsequent sleep we were able to make our escape.

"How can you talk so long without breathing?" McCrotch asked.

"Doctor," Skunk replied, "I fail to see the logic in that statement."

"That whole log entry was one sentence!"

"Doctor, your main concern should be awakening our Captain."

"Oh, don' worry. Jimmy boy is just hav'n a bad trip from that neo-LSD."

Captain Jerk awakened at that moment. After having the situation explained, he quickly made a decision, and led the landing party off in what he assumed to be the correct direction. He assumed correctly, if he wanted to find the Zingon camp. The landing party was quickly captured and brought before the Zingon commander.

"I am Captain Zootz," stated Zootz, "but you may call me Mr. Z." The hefty Zingon looked down at them from his porcelin throne. "And I pity the fool who interferes with my operation."

"How did we interfere, Mr. Z?" asked Jerk, conveniently forgetting the cargo case he had emptied, letting loose several thousand carniverous nibbles.

"Apparently you have conveniently forgotten the several thousand nibbles you released on the planet before we had a chance to destroy them," Mr. Z stated. "Do you have any idea what kind of damage they can do?"

Jerk, examining his backside, was noticing several bite marks he had somehow overlooked until then. "Yes, I do have some idea."

Back on board the Boobyprize, Snotty had finally repaired the xporter. After a quick look under the console, and a quick look up Lt. Denise (Sunshine) Benson's skirt, he was ready to energize, and quickly bleamed the landing party aboard.

"Snotty!" shouted Jerk loudly. "Get us out of here!"

Snotty relayed the command to Mr. Zulu at the helm, who fired up the engines, double-clutched, and sent the Boobyprize off into deep space. Only the Zingon heavy cruiser Disgust was able to follow. It's fizzlers were just beginning to eat through the shields when Jerk bounded onto the bridge.

"Mr. Zulu," he commanded in his best 'I am in complete control of the situation and you have no need to worry (God, please don't let me screw this up)' voice, "Commence evasive manuevers. Mr. Wackov, channel power from the warped drive to the fizzlers. Mr. Skunk, get a full sensor scan of that vessel. Ms. Uhorta, call Comsos Deliveries and order seven hundred large pizzas (sausage, extra cheese) to be delivered to these co-ordinates. Everyone, prepare to turn and fight."

Soon the Boobyprize and the Disgust were locked in mortal combat. Searing red and green lines of death linked the two ships. Or, at least, that's the way it would have been, if Wackov had not puked on his controls. Skunk reported to the captain that the shields were giving way, a quite unnecessary report, as a Zingon fizzler beam had just penetrated the bulkhead and had made slag out of his science station. Luckily, the resulting hole in the hull of the ship was clogged by the bodies of two freshly recruited security goons.

"Captain," shouted Uhorta, "we are receiving a call from the Zingon ship."

"Put it on the big TV," Jerk ordered, not suprised to see the gloating face of Mr. Z filling the screen.

"So, Jerk," Z laughed, "you thought you could get away. Ecological sabotage is a serious crime. We will not let you return to Fodderation space."

"Couldn't we forget it, just this once?" Jerk whined.

"NO!" Mr. Z said with a shake of his head that made his gold chains rattle. "You will not get away this time. I'll see you in chains, Jerk. I'll ... HOLY SPACE CRAP!" And, with that, broke off the transmission.

"Captian," Zulu reported, "Sensors have just picked up ten very large vessels coming our way at warped factor seven." Apparently, the Zingons had picked up the ships, too, as they were beating a hasty retreat.

"We have an incoming message from the commander of the approaching fleet," the communications officer reported.

"Put it on the big TV," Jerk answered.

"This is Cosmos One to the Starclip Boobyprize," said the face on the screen. "Did you folks order some pizzas?"

A short time later, Skunk approched Jerk, wading through pizzas stacked hip deep on the bridge. "Captain," he said, "I find your solution to our latest delemma highly illogical. Perhaps you can explain it to me."

"Simple," stated Jerk. "Cosmos Deliveries has a policy: Pizza delivered in thirty minutes or it's free. They simply couldn't afford to give us seven hundred free pizzas, so I knew I could count on them showing up in time. As I suspected, it took a small fleet to get all those pizzas out here at once, and the Zingons naturally but mistakenly mistook them for Fodderation backup."

"But what are we going to do with all of these pizzas?" The Vulgarian was a vegetarian, and being hip deep in sausage pizza was making him more than a bit ill.

"I figure we can sell them to Mr. Z for a substantial profit. Those nibbles we set loose must be pretty hungry by now."

And the S.U.X. Boobyprize flew magestically out among the stars ...