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did the shorty general get lost and end up on the plateau?

Another Fredless week... [:(]

oh, the pain... [;)] stiil Fredless...

you came to the right place for craving, rtrapasso [:)]
maybe we'll form a support group [:D]

[&o] Come back to us !!!

G'day,

The Emperor's official Scribe only recently received his rejigged computer. He has also spent a week on the beach with the family.

Normal transmissions will resume shortly.

Cheers,
Lancer

I must admit I am really enjoying this AAR.

My abrupt departure from the comforts of the palace has brought about a rare bout of angst.

Sudden changes of direction and pace are nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Being able to roll with the punches comes with the territory.

The 'Idiots Guide For Aspiring Emperors' would basically boil down to ruthlessly removing anyone or anything in your way. Excellent advice but missing a key ingredient.

Scything your way through a field of contenders with the biggest, bloodiest knife at hand won’t in itself get you to the throne. There are certain subtleties.

Something that most wannabe Emperors overlook in their psychopathic pursuit of power. Chaos only begets more chaos.

A man – and those without the requisite b*lls need not apply – needs to be able to discern the patterns and rythmns within the howling sandstorms of fortune. It’s important to be able to recognise the tipping points. Times when continual forward momentum becomes a liability.

Above all the aspiring Emperor needs to be nimble. Fleet of foot. Able to reverse course on a whim when necessary. Pivot like a ballerina on the sharp point of fortunes’ madly spinning weather vane.

Not a physical quality. More a state of mind. An agility of thought.

Off which I am amply endowed.

Incompetent General Huss and the Imperial Second Fleet vaporised. By a bunch of lowly pirates no less. Ape war looming. The spectre of Toadagemmon lurking in the background. Civilian morale heading south.

Not a time for oratorical excess or statesman-like indifference. Action is required. Decisive action.

Let it be known throughout the realm that Emperor Fred has saddled up. Heading directly to the badlands to put things to right.

Your children can sleep easy at night. Emperor Fred, mighty warrior and smiter down of all things evil, has it in hand.

A sudden departure only adds to the impression of leadership by example.

Emperor Fred doesn’t wait for his favourite horse to be readied and for lunch to be concluded at a leisurely pace.

No Sir. He jumps whatever horse is handy and rides like a bat out of h*ll straight down the angry gullet of Lucifer himself. He keeps riding, six-gunning all that is soft and squishy, until he finally broaches daylight out through the Lord of the Underworld’s flaming *sshole.

With or without a posse.

But there is a price to pay. Horseshoes left on the bloodied trail. Decisions that normally would have been mulled over at leisure become imminent and irrevocable.

For once the Imperial Third Fleet disappears down the hyperspacial rabbit hole my grip on the levers of power is no more. For the coming months will see me impotent, able to exert as much influence on events as a leper on his wedding night.

Son of Igor ran all the important ones past me just before departure. I had mere minutes to assess and decide. Followed by months of doubt and second guessing as I wonder if I zigged when I should have zagged.

Most of it was of no great import either way. One decision in particular, though, had serious ramifications. Empire-big ramifications.

Tough decision. One of those gnarly ones with no obvious answer. Did I call it correctly? Hard to say. Maybe, maybe not.

Thusly I find myself burdened with unaccustomed angst.

Happy pills don’t sort that one. Tried.

Nope, only rehashing it over and over again scratches this particular itch. B*gger all else to do. Months of boredom bouncing off the walls inside my ultra high speed metal cage of doom.

Picked the brains of the captain weeks ago. Learnt all I needed to know in order to be an effective Admiral of the Fleet. Unlike the recently departed weedy, runty Huss I do my homework.

Keep coming back to the saga of the “Blind Lady”. The Apes. The Leech. The budgetary shortfall. Zorg.

Like a demented join-the-dots drawing they are all connected. Each one parasitically feeding off the others.

Credits. As in we don’t have any. We are – as described in the colloquial vernacular – skint. Chancellor Chuck was kind enough to poke a balance sheet under my nose before I left.

The stupendous trade-induced rivers of gold that I was expecting from our fellow humans way over in the Dagru system have failed to materialise. Son of Igor, d*mn him, highlights the reason why.









Which leaves us Five thousand Credits in the red. Too much expenditure, too little taxes. Spending too much on fuel apparently. At risk of swapping our spaceships for horses.

Only reason we aren’t in the hands of the receivers is the steady stream of new freighter tonnage that Zorg keeps ordering from our shipyards.

And the reason he keeps building freighters is that they keep getting whacked by pirates in the vicinity of FredTopia.

Discrete enquiries have revealed that, lo and behold, the pirates are led by an individual bearing a remarkable resemblance to the Leech. Aided and abetted, clearly, by persons unknown at FredTopia.

Popped a few extra heart pills when I heard that.

So I now have a situation where the Leech, public pest, recipient of a failed assassination attempt and major league embarrassment, has re-emerged to zap Zorg in the hip pocket which in turn is propping up our own ailing economy.

If that isn’t an unstable equilibrium I don’t know what is.

There was a brief, momentary blossoming of fiscal flowering several months ago. Flush with the unheard of sum of six thousand Credits I ordered the construction of a colony ship, the ‘Blind Lady’.

Which promptly sent the budget spiralling down to where it naturally resides. Broke.

It was worth it for within the ‘Blind Lady’ resides the hopes and future of the Empire. A masterstroke in the making.

By inflicting a colonisation effort upon the amiable citizens of the independent human colony in the Adarluun system I shotgun multiple ugly birds out of the sky.

In one loud Bang! I solve our budgetary problems. Lots of new taxpayers. I also establish a sizeable foothold in Ape space and simultaneously prevent the Apes from locking me out of the system.

Don’t tell anyone but a nasty little secret that only I and several billion Zionists know is that the whistle has been blown on the Empire’s el-cheapo flat-pack colonisers. Nobody volunteers anymore. People have wised up to the horrors.

Forced to instigate conscription. Round up an entire city, lock stock and barrel, at the point of a gun and forcibly march them into the cryogenic freezers.

As I said, nasty.

Not one to be bothered by trivial details, I don’t dwell on such matters. Focus on the big picture.

Which is, undeniably, grim.

The “Blind Lady” set sail for Happy Land in the Adarluun system a month ago. General Huss and the Imperial Second Fleet were supposed to have cleared the area of any stray pirates prior to its arrival.

Didn’t happen. Now mankind’s only viable colony ship for the foreseeable future – can’t afford another – is sailing to it’s certain demise due to the incompetence of runty little General Huss.

My good self and the mighty Imperial Third Fleet won’t arrive in time to save the day.

So I have ordered the First Fleet to scramble and hightail it from nearby FredTopia and, hopefully, rescue the “Blind Lady”. At the very least buy it some time to escape into hyperspace.

Good decision? Probably not but what else can I do? First Fleet consists of a couple of first generation Frigates, no match for the Pirate Cruisers.

Worse, First Fleet comprises the Empires entire remaining military might outside of my Destructo Third Fleet. Given that they are on a one-way sacrificial mission there will be nothing left to defend the scattered outposts of the Empire.

What if the Ikky Apes launch a premptive strike at FredTopia? What if Pirates run rampant throughout the realm? What if the Toads out East come calling in my absence?

Nervous, dangerous times.

But the “Blind Lady” must get through. Whatever the cost.










To be continued...

Lancer

The blind lady lol [:D] I realy loved your picture !!!

Lancer, don't want to take advantage of your talent but would you consider making a let's play on youtube? I think you'd rock [&o]

eyyyungh!

*twitch*

emperor!

someone is feeling lonely? [:)]

seriously this thread is the best thing on earth

Boredom, endless, mind-numbing boredom, can hammer down on a persons mind-set and crack it like the insignificant walnut that it is.

Not mine. ‘Cause I know that life is a zero-sum game.

Months of staring at the walls is nothing more than the ticket price for the all the interesting stuff that follows.

So much excitement, as it turned out, that my aging organ-pumper of blood revved right up into the red and took up residence. Long forgotten carnal pleasures were nothing compared to this.

For the first time in my prolonged, artificially extended, life I was able to stand on the deck of a mighty spaceship and splat bugs. Evil, scummy bugs.

I, Emperor Fred, personally rid the galaxy of extraneous trash.

No bag and tag here. Crisp ‘em till they crumble.

Felt good. Felt bl**dy terrific. I am well and truly Juiced.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

With the benefit of several downloaded drones and all-seeing hindsight I’m able to reconstruct events prior to my arrival at the scene of the crime. Been busy compiling it all into a neat little holoVid which will be shown throughout the Empire.

All it needs is a catchy title.

‘I’ve met the Law and the Law is E.Fred’.

Yeah.

A short splice on the end of me scowling, scratching my non-existent b*lls and spitting into the distance would round it off nicely.

Bound to boost morale.

~ ~ ~

First Fleet warped into the Adarluun System well before the arrival of the C.S. “Blind Lady”. Captain Terminus, fully expecting an early, unscheduled appointment with his Maker, was pleasantly surprised to find a solitary Pirate frigate in-system.

Wielding the I.N “Excelsior” like an avenging sword of retribution, Captain Terminus proceeded to lay into the infidel with the aid of First Fleet's remaining frigate.

Swish, swoosh, smash!

Despite the two to one odds Captain Terminus found himself struggling to prevail. While it isn’t noted anywhere in his personnel records that he might be lacking in the sword smith department, something was clearly not going to plan.

The drone data-dump contained the Excelsior’s full black-box readouts which I had the relevant flunkies analyse for me.

Captain Terminus can rest easy. Technical issues.

First combat revealing design faults.









Turns out the Excelsior class frigate has four concussion beams as a weapons load out. Burn through a fair amount of power, I’m told. So much so that the good Captain can’t ‘concuss’ the enemy as fast as he would prefer.

Distinct lack of concussing going on.

Further investigations reveal that the frigate does indeed have sufficient spare energy to concuss the bej*sus out of any flaky pirate within cooee of it’s location.

Impertinent flunkies pointing out the real problem. The concussion beams can only find it within themselves to lurch out of bed and thump somebody over the head every 1.1 seconds.

Poor effort. How is Captain Terminus ever going to blow up Pirates if his beam weaponry is on semi-permanent vacation?

Minister for Science. Bl**dy Frizzball. Researching boxes, storage and fairy festivals, for all I know, instead of decent space-going guns.

I make a note to deal with him upon my return. This despite already having three outstanding notes pending, regarding our dismal research performance and lack of progress in all matters science.

I do, in fact, expedite the matter up my personal priority list. Give it some lift. Not enough to break cloud cover but sufficient to achieve critical altitude. High enough to be noticed.

Watch out Frizzball.

Back to Captain Terminus. Slugging it out with knobbled beams.

When BAMMO! Suddenly three new Pirate vessels warp in and join the battle, one of them a Destroyer.

Terminus and Excelsior going DOWN.

Retreat not an option. The “Blind Lady” must get through.

It’s all over. Command Log recording Captain Terminus’s penultimate message to his family. Bits of Imperial frigates shredding left and right. “Blind Lady” still en route.

Doom and despair. As the final curtain lowers on the Imperial First Fleet and the intrepid Captain Terminus there is the faint, distant sound of trumpets.

Well known fact that sound doesn’t carry in space. Expect the clarion call of trumpets. A freak of physics.

Captain Terminus prepares to draw his last breath as shields flare out of existence and armour begins to peel. Puzzled frown. He can hear the trumpets getting louder. Trumpets?

KAZAM! Into the fracas, riding high in the saddle, comes EMPEROR FRED!!!

Thundering down the slot into the very maw of danger and death. Third Fleet charging along behind.

Bam, Bang, BOOM!









I stand astride the bridge of the Cruiser “Fearsome Verdict”. Feet akimbo, head held high. Every single vibration from engine and beams transmitting up through the deck via the lighting rod of my metallic skeletal structure.

Whomping into my cranium like an out-of-control train wreck. Swirling round and round inside until finally spearing directly into my septum pellucidium.

And if you have to ask you don’t need to know. B*ggered if I’m going to tell the whole galaxy how to have this much fun.

Blew three Pirate ships apart. Great rendering colour splashes of red and orange. Fancied I could see legs and arms flying through the maelstrom but that my just have been wishful thinking.

Probably tentacles.

Remaining Pirate Destroyer heads for the hills. He knows there is a new sheriff in town.

Suffered a moment. Had to be restrained. Sort of. Orders politely ignored.

Flushed with the unbridled power of death dealing destruction I yelled to keep shooting. Anything and everything. Ape freighter and an Independent nearby.

Not one of my better efforts. Came to my senses. Overlooked the insubordination.

Lasered the Freddo stare of doom around the length and breadth of the bridge. Nobody to mention this again. Ever.

Captain Terminus and First Fleet live to fight another day.

But where, oh, where is the “Blind Lady”?





To be continued...

Lancer

Yeeeeeeeeeeees! [:D]

This gets better and better with each chapter [:)]

ya, only 54 chapters so far [:)]

[&o] [&o] [&o]

when thio asks, thio receives.
[:'(]