Fear of a Dead Planet


Alviar-Durassum IV: an orphan world to a murdered empire. Six and a half billion Shee Yar died here, their loss unlamented and unavenged. And the indignities have not ended yet.

“Launch the Borpedoes!” the grave figure in the lab coat commanded, pointing superfluously at the planet’s image that dominated the bridge’s view screen. The helmsman that sat below the dais rushed to comply. One flipped switch began the barrage, as dozens of missiles flared from the star cruiser’s undercarriage. Their rockets ignited, their targets acquired, the insidious weapons streaked towards the planet. Through the exosphere, thermosphere, mesosphere, and stratosphere these grim harbingers of a brave new world flew. The Borpedoes smashed and cratered the planet’s crust, flinging enough debris and ash into the air to enshroud the world in darkness.

“Phase One complete,” another of the crew exposited, “Commencing Phase Two.”

Each Borpedo warhead began to revolve, grinding into the earth like a corkscrew. The heavy gravity generators kicked in and pushed the projectiles downward, inexorably towards their ultimate destination.

“It will take time for the borepedoes to strike the core-mantle boundary. But when they do, it will create a magnetic sluice that will draw the magma up to fill the craters. The amount of energy released will be incredible,” Professor Pandemonium said to the man sitting behind him, “More than suitable for our needs.”

The handsome blonde with the slicked back hair needed more than that, “And aesthetically? Will your inventions be up to the task our master has given us?”

“Yes.”

“Splendid. Then execute Phase Three. Without the gesticulations, please. It makes it harder to take you seriously.”

Pandemonium grimaced at the jibe, “Drop the Necro-animators.”

More missiles were fired from the enormous warship. These, however, detonated high above the planet’s surface, seeding the air with potent nanomachines. The devices spread throughout the atmosphere, searching for, then swarming over their designed target: the dead of Alviar-Durassum.

The Necro-animators entered the remains of the corpses’ nervous systems. They lodged themselves in each neuron and hovered in every synapse, creating new circuits. Once done, the tiny machines charged up and released new impulses, dark blasphemous stimuli that brought the murdered Shee Yar shambling to their feet.

“Give me the Mesmer Miter,” the blonde man in the linen suit told an attendant. Once the headgear was donned, he turned to his fellow Oligarch and grinned.

“Your science can only take us so far, cousin. Now it is time for Splendiferous Stuart to work his magic.”

“There is no magic,” Pandemonium, ever literal, grumbled.

Stuart rose from his chair and began his speech, his sermon to the newest members of his congregation, “Your lives were taken, but HE has restored them! The SOL TYRANT! The UNENLIGHTENED DESPOT! DARK THUGOS!!

“It is through HIS will you rise again! And thus, you are HIS! You will work and war and die again for HIM! For THUGOS! HE is your GOD and you will serve for HIS greatest glory!! THRALLS FOR THUGOS!!

“HE has transformed this planet to mirror HIS kingdom beyond! The world now bears the mark of APOCALYSPE , and is the first of many. ALL will become the foundries from which a GREAT ARMY will be marshaled! A PROFANE CRUSADE TO SPREAD THE WORD OF YOUR NEW GOD, THE LAST GOD…. DARK THUGOS! Can you dig it? Can you dig it?! CAN?! YOU??!! DIG???!!! IT????!!!!”

The oration complete, its listeners lumbered to obey. All save the lone figure sitting in the high-backed writing armchair monitoring the vulgarities from the other side of Alviar Durassum’s moon.

“This,” he mused, “is curious.”

And then the stranger was gone.


Next: Divine Write

Footnotes:


The Shee-Yar Empire, is a galactic empire founded by an avian civilisation and ruled by an Empress; their high priest is the Eyrie-Father.The Shee-Yar Imperium Guard are super-powered champions of the Parodyverse's other avian-themed galactic civilisation, but the Shee-Yar are now a polyglot empire of many races, of each which contributes a champion to the Imperiators to act as the ultimate enforcers of the Shee-Yar. Gladeater was acknowledged as the strongest of these, and usually served as their Praetor, or leader. Since the Parody Master’s conquest of the Empire it is not clear how many, if any, of the Guard remain alive (Actually, at some point during either the Moderator Saga or the Saving the Future story, the Carnifax wiped them all out, but I could be mistaken).

Professor Pandemonium: A brilliant Apocalyspian who has become Dark Thugos’s chief science advisor with the death of Torkamahda. He specializes in mechanical engineering and robotics, and commands a contingent of android duplicates of himself who share the same perceptions and personalities.



Splendiferous Stuart who looks and dresses like a televangelist. Using his awesome powers of persuasion, he has earned the role of ruling as Dark Thugos’s proxy.

The Mysterious Man in the floating space chair will remain unidentified for now.