COLONEL CONDOR'S BALLS ARE HARDER

Jun 21st 2011, 16:04 by E O Hatterpol | 1228 AU FROM SUN

"Hello!" I said nervously.  "My name is Colonel Condor."


Colonel Condor, the Roosterman & the rest of the Starship Dryheave's elite crew looked at me sideways.  I laughed nervously.


"I mean!  I mean, my name is E O Hatterpol."


"Sir! Your name is E O Hatterpol, sir!" the Roosterman corrected.


The Condor held up a hand, waving off his young cadet's exuberance.  Then he used the same hand to stroke the widespread feathers of his enormous moustache.


"No need for formalities here, Roosterman.  We're all equals on the bocce ball courts - especially when we're dealing with someone who is obviously a beer aficionado."


He pointed to the beer in my hand & the can opener on my pink utility belt.  And suddenly I wished I had brought a six-pack for him & his crew.


"Where are my manners?" I stammered.  "Why don't I run go-"


"Don't worry about it," the Condor said calmly.  He left off preening his feathers & held his hand up by his ear as if he were waiting for something to be placed in it from behind.


I looked over his shoulder to see who was behind him & almost lost the seat of my pants: it was a 900 lb. grizzly bear in overalls!  The Colonel took note of my shock.


"Haven't ever been this far into outer space, have you?" he asked.


The beast must have been intelligent though, because he produced a mountain-cold beer seemingly from nowhere, cracked it open on his bear teeth and handed it to the Colonel.


"That's Sergeant Likes-to-Fight," the Roosterman added helpfully.  "Don't worry - he's friendly so long as you keep a close eye on his alcohol consumption."


I took another look at the furry monster.  Sure enough, he held a giant wooden barrel of moonshine uncapped under one of his thick, hairy bear arms.  He looked scary as piss to me, but I guess his beady black eyes did make him look kind of cuddly.


We started kicking up & down the replica beach, beers in hand.  Colonel Condor had chosen the courts that looked like Cape Cod beaches, so it was rocky in places.  We tried throwing the pig in and around obstacles to make the game more interesting.  Once I became more comfortable with the Colonel, the Roosterman & Sergeant Likes-to-Fight, I ventured a few questions.


"I was deep in the Flybrary's hold after that harpoon cable zipline," I said.  "I didn't get a chance to see how everything went down.  What happened back there?  Did you get all the salty space pirates?"


"That was you on the harpoon cable with Captain Makemake?" the Colonel said, chuckling.  "I think the Starship Dryheave almost took off your legs!"


"That was YOU?!" I exclaimed.


"...sir," the Roosterman mumbled under his breath.  


"That was me," the Condor said.  He threw a heavy blue bocce ball into the air with a distinctive underhand toss.  It hit the sand and backpedaled its way closer to the pig than the one I had thrown.  Sergeant Likes-to-Fight roared ferociously and bit one of his bocce balls clean in half.  He crunched on it loudly.


"What was that flaming bird in the sky?" I asked, taking a swig of cold beer.


"The Condor Multi-Boom Array.  It's a string of nuclear bombs designed to create maximum Area of Effect damage... and look damned good doing it," he added.  


"The indiscriminate havoc it wreaks has gotten me in trouble before," he said, "but I think the brass won't mind it this time."


The Roosterman's face hardened ever so slightly, but the young soldier tried to hide it.


"Forty pirate ships and fourteen-some-odd asteroid tanks," he continued.  "That's how many I plucked out of the air in a split-second with the CM-B Array.  We turned the rest to Swiss cheese with our side-mounted gatling guns & superior killer whale agility.  My men," he said, waving a hand at all the grizzly soldiers smiling & drinking & playing bocce all around him, "are damn good pilots."


"You completely obliterated them?" I asked incredulously.


"Not all," he said.  "Some pirates always turn tail at first danger.  We just let those go; the cowards won't ever amount to anything problematic enough to waste our energy chasing.  But the rest, yes, we took them out.  Lost a killer whale or three, but we got 'em all."


"And now Captain Makemake is safely in the hull of our Starship," I said with finality.


The Condor took a slow swig of his brew.  His feathery moustache got foamy.


"I had him transferred to the Dryheave for... interrogation," the Condor explained.  "Would you like to go see him?"