El Supremo Goes to War

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El Supremo goes to War - part 10


Private Conversation

Quartermaster Ken the Klingon, after the official report session, sneaks back and asks for a word in private. Sure, says I. What’s on your mind?

“We must sue for peace,” blurts out the Klingon. “Immediately”.

What the hell?

“The problem is”, says he, ‘that all the towns we have captured are dirt hovels. They have a production capacity of 500 boxes of banana equivalents per month.”

Well damn, that sounds like a whole lot of bananas to me.

“No, no. Green Beatle has a capacity of 10,000. The towns have enough to provide local supply only. They can’t build anything. They’re too small.”

I could see that I had a seriously worried Klingon on my hands. Now, what kind of pills would be best, the blue ones or the supersize pink ones?

“Green Beatle,” he hissed, his voice becoming hoarse, “has to carry the entire armed forces production and our entire research program. It can’t do it on it’s own.”

So? We’ll capture more towns.

“That will only make the situation worse. We’ll have a larger military with longer supply lines to support and even less capacity to upgrade and improve our technology. Eventually we’ll be overrun, island by island. We are doomed.”

The pink ones. Definitely the pink ones.

“There are only two ways out of our predicament.”

Two? Great. Mind meld with me baby, mind meld it across. El Supremo accepts all types of communications.

“We could capture a capital city. They have a similar production capacity to Green Beatle.”

Mmmm. The only feasible nearby capital was that of the Muslim Front. This would require a significant naval presence in order for the sausage assault divisions to make it safely across Storm Gulf. Given that we are currently outnumbered by Muslim Front naval forces by a factor of 4 to 1 that is going to be a big ask. I strongly suspect that we are also behind the eight ball in naval technology.

Except in subs. We are hell on wheels in submarines. There is no better submarine in the entire world than the Sausage Sea Serpent Mk 2.

Submarines, unfortunately –as Admiral Max belligerently keeps reminding me – don’t rule the waves.

The Klingon took my dispirited look as a no and launched into option two. “Factories. If we could instigate a crash building program of factories on both Taswegia and Isle of the Dead we could boost our production capacity sufficiently to carry on the war”.

Factories. Good idea. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Gosh, we could probably fit five of those suckers on the combined islands. Put another one on Grasshopper Island just for fun. Six in total. Golly gee whiz. An extra 12,000 production capacity. There would be no stopping us!

Except for one tiny little thing. The sausage folk of Grasshopper Island don’t believe in factories. Not at all, bugger them. When God made the sausage folk he forgot to tick the little box that inserts the word ‘factory’ into their native language.

Or did he? I’ll have to check. Where’s the bat phone? What number do I dial?


To be continued...

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[lancer]

El Supremo Goes to War






The End

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[EmTom]

Klingons don't mind-meld for god's sake... Vulcans do!

Funny AAR, shame it ended so quickly. I hope to hear from El Supremo again.