SITH WAR 2002: Attack of the Copycats
Policraticus: The Real McEwok
fringes of the RASS* Sector.
"All right," asked the empty space that the GSV _Sing When You're
Winning_ used as its Avatar. "Just what are we doing here?"
"Och," laughed Grand Admiral McEwok, smirking paradoxically. "It wiz
befuir yer time, aye?"
The Avatar, feeling too huffy to use its Banksian powers of
perception, resigned itself to simply peering through the bridge
viewports. At first, it could only see the sea of stars, glittering
against the black velvet backdrop of the timeless night. Then, as its
eyes grew acustomed to the darkness, it caught sight of what looked
like a small moon in the middle instance.
The _Sing_ looked closer.
"That's no moon," it said in shock. "That's Trory's Death Star!"
"The quhilk is the problem wi' ye Culture machines," McEwok chuckled.
"Ye cannae be ticklit! Nae guid sense o' humour!"
"Ha ha," commented the Avatar. "But seriously, I thought it was
destroyed in the explosion of Planet RASSM in Sith War VII. Come to
it, what was it doing there in the first place?"
"Plot device," shrugged the Man with the Golden Lightsaber.
And somewhere, the Infinity Kipper smiled.
"Aye," McEwok agreed, pulling a black nerf-hide glove off one hand,
and spinning it into the air. "Richt, Michael Ponte... we've baith got
Death Stars! The RASS* System at oh-two-hundred! Be there!"
The Avatar smirked invisibly, and displaced McEwok's clumsily flicked
glove through hyperspace, tweaking the space-time continuum around it
so that it appeared on the Overbridge of Ponte's Death Star, smacking
the self-styled Love Machine squarely in the chin.
Before Ponte could react, the glove flopped to the floor and vanished,
snatched back to the _Lochaber_ by the Avatar. Just for old times'
sake, it allowed a few faint notes of the Macarena to echo in the
silence as a sound effect...
"Now what?" the Man asked.
"The noo?" McEwok asked. "We wait. Or mebbe we gie a few mair newbies
a wee shake in thaur alluvial dampers!"