The Spastic Cheese swept silently through the inky blackness of space, en route to hatch a diabolical plan on behalf of the Wyzenhymer Armada. Sky Marshall Wincus' words hung heavily
on what was left of Pu' Chabba's conscience. The alien had been disturbingly specific regarding the consequences of failure, yet the armor clad mercenary was beginning to experience some misgivings.
"I've got a bad feeling about this", he growled, casting a dismal glance at the passenger seat where Mushi would have sat looking up at him with those curious jewel-like eyes.
"Why, damn it?!?, he yelled, pounding his gauntleted fist on the steering column as a violent wave of despair washed through him. "It's...just...not...fair", he muttered, his voice fading into
the hum of the Cheese's twin turbine engines.
A blue light on the display panel indicated the ship's proximity to it's destination. "Why the Spleebahr Galaxy?", he wondered aloud, shaking himself from his grief.
The coordinates had been precise, though the rest of Wincus' details were somewhat sketchy and the specifics on his target were no exception. He had, however, been instructed to utilize Ribo-Protonic Spheres,
which meant he was up against a large number of enemies...or one huge one. And his orders were to destroy. Not to disable, not to delay.
