"Ghost.Ship" Has returned!

[Blighter]

[font=Courier New]Err.

I'll totally just go in here and unleash the hypothetical scenario wall.

BEGIN:

I am [color=#FF9900]Joe Kazimushi McKayyEnnEffstein.
I am an exceptionally well-trained Kusari Naval Forces Officer.
I have studied my enemies at the military academy, and I know who they are, what they are, how they look like, where they come from, where they head, what they fly, and what they use.
For such are the teachings one of my kind has to know prior to be allowed to fly for the Naval Forces in space, in the name of the Emperor, Frozus Ballus the MCCCXXXVIIth, and for great justice.

Today I am out on a patrol with my wingmates, [color=#FFFF66]Jack Hokonobaba De Banzai and Frank Sayonara Enchwasherea.

In the middle of my patrol in the (INSERT KUSARI SYSTEM NAME HERE), Jack starts complaining about a headache.
I tell him to shrug it off if it's not too bad, so we can carry on with our patrol until we're done, so then we can fly to the Battleship Soyokaze, write our reports, and afterwards have fun times with the Geishas, in the Emperor's name.

However then suddenly Jack begins to talk about strange voices in his head and how they are telling him things.
I begin to remember the history lessons from the Academy, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning fired from the rear-end of an ancient god people worshipped on ye olde Earth, the guy whose name started with Z but which I can't remember, anyway, it hits me.

Strange voices? IN JACK'S VA... err, HEAD?
"Good heavens!" I shout out. "Could it be that there be... Nomads about?"
Frank immediately dismisses me as a fool. "Nay laddie, 'dere be none o' 'um Squiddays 'ere, we's a in (INSERT KUSARI SYSTEM NAME HERE), there ain' been Squddays sighted roun' 'ere in years!"
But I remain suspicious, for there is Jack, who wildly screams: "THEY'RE TELLING ME TO TAKE MY PANTS OFF! MY PAAANTS!"
"Sweet mother mercy!" I exclaim. Taking off his pants? But he is wearing an overall! What madness is this?
It can not be a voice spawned out of his wicked serial-killer psyche, for that one would know that he's not wearing pants!
Could it be there it really was Nomads?
I do not know, however I remain cautious, and I order Frank to escort Jack back home while Jack can still fly, to which Frank loudly reacts with his manly Scotti... err, Kusarian voice.
"DA COMRADE! FOR THE EMPEROR! I SHALL BRING HIM HOME! AND THEN WE'LL VISIT THE BROTH... err, Coffee Shop!"
Swiftly, Frank and Jack get on their way, disappearing out of my scanner range only a few moments later, and I let out a sigh of relief, for it is quiet and peaceful, and nothing hostile is in sight.
Thus, seeing that there's only two more navigational points left to visit in order to finish the patrol, I decide to continue for I could rest peacefully no more were my cowardice the reason for possibly not detecting a hostile whom could claim countless lifes of the good Geishas of Kusari!
"By the Emperor's will, it shall be done!" I say to myself, fire up my Cruise Engines, and I continue. My chest swollen with pride, my heart pumping raw courage and manliness through my veins, and my Aviators on my nose, because I watched Top Gun and I want to look as badass as Goose.

Only a few minutes later, I see it... the first NavPoint.
I take a long and hard cigar out of my pocket and light it, for things look quiet and there is no one there.
I smoke calmly, relaxing and starting to become light-headed... it is only a few minutes later that I recognize the smell...

MY GOODNESS! I did not smoke a cigar! It was a blunt, and I am stoned out of my mind... partially.
And then it happens.
***.OMNOMNOM.*** Comes the voice in my head.
"Who be ye, laddie?" I ask in my best faked Glaswegian.
***.JEEPAZ.KREEPAZ.AND.TENTACLEZ.IN.UR.PANTZ.OLOL!!1one.***
I fail to understand the cryptic and mysterious messages in my head, for I am stoned, which, combined with my immense facial hair (Read: Beard!) makes me awesome.

But there, out in the distance, I can see it coming. Approaching rapidly, it begins to descend upon me...
A ship, not unlike my own. A Chimaera, the Naval Forces' finest fighter craft in existence, blessed by the Emperor of Man... I mean, Emperor Frozus Ballus himself.

I see not what is about to come for the unfortunate old me, and thus I approach.
As per standard procedure, which miraculously hath not eludeth me stoned mind, I input the command into my computer to verify it's IFF Signature.

"ERROR: INSERT COIN TO CONTINUE!"

Then I realize it wasn't my computer, but the Pinball machine.
So, I attempt to do it again, this time making sure that I don't touch the Pinball machine or the console that lets me play Super Turbo Turkey Puncher 3 on those long and hard trips out in space.

But what... what is this?

"ERROR: IFF UNKNOWN. NO MATCH IN DATABASE."

An unknown IFF signature? IN MY KUSARI? C'EST IMPOSSIBLE!
I am shocked at that revelation, and I focus long and hard... on the blunt, because I'd rather not waste good Synth Mary.
A few moments after, I decide to scan that Chimaera there... and... what? MORE UNKNOWN TRASH? WHAT IS THIS THING, A COMPUTER LINKED TO THE NAVAL FORCES DATABASE OR A NINTENDO 64?
Anyway, this is what the display said:

"WARNING: UNKNOWN ENERGY SIGNATURES DETECTED. ADVISE CAUTION."

I begin to wonder in the back of my head, what could this mean? What is happening here? Where is my overall? Why am I only wearing a flanel shirt and boxers? And who's the funny guy with the tentacles sticking out of his no... nevermind.
My thoughts get interrupted as I hear the alarms aboard my ship sound...

"OH MY LEONIDAS!" The Chimaera fired! At my ship! "DIVE DIVE DIVE! HIT YOUR BURNERS PILOT!" I can hear Lieutenant Commander Snipes scream somewhere in the depths of my brain, and so I dive, barely dodging the <strike>Shivan Juggernaut in front of me</strike> next salvo of...

Was that purple lightning that got shot at me?

Purple haze?

Out in space?

While my thoughts're in a maze?

And I moronically stare at the reflection of my face?

"MADNESS!" - It truly must be.

I bring my ship, my Chimaera, around, to face the attacker and see what he is doing, ready to dodge his shots, ready to retaliate, and then...

***.TROLOLOLOLOL.U.DAI.NUB.KEKEKEKE!!!1one.***

IN YOUR HEAAAD! IN YOUR HEAAAD! ZOMBIE! ZOHOOOMB... wait, this isn't a Cranberries song.
I can hear the voices, but they do not distract me, and my thoughts wander to the latest issue of Sports Illustrated... only for a moment though, since there, there I see it.

Purple lasers.

Shooting.

At me.

Could this be a mislead Civilian, firing his Purple Goddesses with intense fury?
I decide to find out, and let myself get hit.
Which is a bad idea, because the overwhelming force of the blows quickly drops my shield, and now the pristine hull of my Chimaera is exposed.
Along with the beautiful paintings on it of Geishas in bikinis playing banjos in a pool with a snake whose name starts with 'C' and ends with 'opperhead' inbetween.

I spent very long on those artistical masterpieces, and it cost me over 9000 gallons of Absinthe to work up the inspiration that was needed for them.
"HEEEREEESYYY!" I scream at the top of my lungs, but then, then it comes again.

***.OLOL.IM.IN.UR.HEAD.AND.I.HERD.U.LIEK.TENTACLEZ.UP.YUR.FAEC?!?.***

I no longer think those could be Purple Goddesses, for not even if they were overcharged with Duracell batteries, could their long and hard beams penetrate my shield that easily.
And no man of pure human nature could joke about probing my face with tentacles.
Now I know what is inside that ship. I know what it wants. (Hint: Not my money, there was no "2 mil or dai".)
And I know... I know what I must do.

I take a deep breath and focus on the ship, and I channel all my Imperial might and righteous fury into my vocal cords, my mind resisting the creature, for I am stoned and flying high on so many levels that not even the entire population of <strike>Jamaica</strike> New York could count them.

"HOAAAA! KAZIMUSHI-SAN GO BANZAAAI AND SQUIDDIES GO SAYONAAARAAA!"

My Chimaera's engines roar, the booming and thundering sound so loud in my eardrums, I can barely hear my own warcry as I charge the beast.
It does not seem impressed, it does not feel fear, and it does not know that I am full with RAEG.
I make ready my guns, the six Disinfectors, ready to cleanse Kusari from that being, true to their name.
I close the distance rapidly, and then... then I fire.

*WHOA BLACK BETTY BAM-BALAM!*

But it is not enough, and the beast charges at me... and just a moment before my ship rams into its own, I press the Big Red Button of Doom. (Read: I-Win Button.)
"IMA FIRIN' MAH RAZOR!" I scream out in righteous fury as the Tachyon-Antimatter escapes the barrell and propels towards my target, closing the distance rapidly, far too quick for the beast to react, and then...

*BAMBAAALAAAAAAAAAM!*

It is no more.

A fiery explosion, a little purple shine in-between, and some wreckage quickly shooting off into all directions of space, that is the result.

And I?

I remember that my overall's under my seat and that I got not only the latest issue of Sports Illustrated in there, but also more of the blessed gifts from the goddess Mary-Jane.
So I pull off my shirt to expose my bare and oiled-up and overly manly chest to everyone who might dare look into my cockpit, lean back in my seat, turn its massage-function on, and fly home while smoking a fat one, reading Sports Illustrated and playing Super Turbo Turkey Puncher 3. At the same time.

Because I'm the hero of <strike>Canton</strike> Kusari, and the man they call <strike>Jayne</strike> Joe.