March of the Habsborg
Chapter 15 - Surprise of the Dragon
Lisbon
October 11, 1754
The lead Portuguese "engineer" stepped back, his surgery on the Borg drone complete. "Alright now, everyone hold on to your butts," he said, flipping the switch that provided power to the drone's nanocircuitry. There was a high-pitched electronic whine, followed by a muted trumpet fanfare that seemed to be emitted from a speaker hidden in the drone's cranium. And then ... nothing.
The King scoffed. "Bah! See, I knew this was a waste of -" He was rudely cut short by the sound of the drone's head exploding in a shower of sparks and hydraulic fluid. Brushing bits of ocular implant out of his hair, the King stated flatly, "I think it's time to go back to Plan A. Namely, the drafting of more armies. Good day, gentlemen." And with that, he strode regally out of the room. (Or as regally as one can be while sponging hydraulic fluid off of one's face.)
What the King did not know was that the Earth's first recorded application of malware did, in fact, have an effect. It caused 110,000 drones in Tavastland to experience a simultaneous segmentation fault that erased their loyalty matrices. They rose up in rebellion and laid siege to the local fort:
Of course, the harsh winter weather killed most of them, and fresh drones from Austria killed the rest, but it's the thought that counts.
The Portuguese experiment also caused several thousand drones in Tocuvo to revolt and begin calling themselves the Secondary Collective of Colombia. The fledging nation was short-lived, however, only surviving for eighteen days.
Hebei
August 22, 1757
Meanwhile, half a world removed, the Emperor of China was relaxing in his palace while his seemingly endless supply of peasants were toiling away. He was trying to ignore his advisor, who was droning on about the Borg and some silly White Lotus cult group.
Doesn't this guy realize, thought the Emperor,
that I'm trying to listen to these minstrels? Sheesh!
*cue lead guitar*
"Holiday", by Green Day
Say hey!
Hear the sound of the falling rain
Coming down like an Armageddon flame.
The shame
The ones who died without a name:
Hear the dogs howling out of key
To a hymn called "Faith and Misery"
And bleed.
The company lost the war today:
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies.
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday:
Hear the drum pounding out of time.
Another protester has crossed the line
To find
The money's on the other side:
Can I get another Amen?
There's a flag wrapped around a score of men.
A gag;
A plastic bag on a monument:
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies.
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday:
Zieg Heil to the President Gasman -
Bombs away is your punishment:
Pulverize the Eiffel Towers
Who criticize your government!
Bang bang goes the broken glass
Kill all the fags that don't agree:
Trials by fire setting fire
Is not a way that's meant for me.
Just cause -
Just cause because we're outlaws, YEAH!
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies.
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives.
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies.
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives.
This is our lives on holiday:
September 17, 1812
Hung Lo was beginning to become exhausted. He had been striking down Borg drones at the gates of the Forbidden City for two hours now, and while the drone army's attempt to storm the palace had so far been unsuccessful, there seemed to be an endless supply of attackers. It was only a matter of time before he and the rest of his guards collapsed from fatigue. Then, just as he was about to give up, the attacks ceased.
Every drone in the attacking Borg army looked toward the sky as Hung began to hear a deep rumbling sound. Looking up, he saw a titanic metal disc hanging in the sky, pulsing with yellow-green light. It descended until it was about 30 meters above the surface, after which several landing legs projected out from the edge of the disc and touched down onto the courtyard. A door on the side of the disc opened, and a ramp issued forth. Down the ramp strode several massive, green, rubbery, bipedal aliens dressed in uniforms so tacky the mere sight of them would have instantly killed the entire population of the Castro. The alien wearing the most gold unfolded a small piece of paper he was carrying, cleared his throat, and began to read aloud.
"Greetings, inhabitants of Earth. My name is Salivos the Phlegmatic, Captain of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.
"Pursuant to plan 325687-13274968-32465B, as filed in the offices of the Department of Galactic Infrastructure (hereafter referred to as 'the Department') on Vogsphere, the planet Sol-3 (known to its inhabitants as 'Earth' and hereafter referred to as 'the Planet') shall be destroyed 167 years from this point in time in order to make way for a planned interstellar bypass. Pursuant to Regulation 24458793311154-3, inhabitants of the Planet may, during the intervening time, petition for the postponement of said demolition by filing the appropriate form with the Department in triplicate and no later than 100 years in advance of said demolition. This will serve as the only notification of this planned demolition.
"Thank you for your attention, and have a plurdled day."
At this, Salivos began walking back to his ship with his entourage, but he was interrupted by Prinzeugen of Borg, which proceeded to state in his typically Borg-ish homage to Ben Stein, "You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
The Vogon captain turned to address the drone. "As stated in the aforementioned notification, you may submit - "
Again, the drone interrupted. "Resistance is futile."
"See here," replied Salivos, "you have to go through proper bureaucratic channels. Resistance is useless!"
"Resistance is futile," responded the drone.
"Resistance is useless!"
"Futile."
"Useless!!!"
This riveting repartee continued for roughly 13 hours until finally, in the only known instance of a Vogon being outmatched by a creature more stubborn than itself, Salivos gave up. Before returning to his ship, however, he decided to regale the audience with a recitation of his poem entitled "Sonnet for an Overused Latrine". As is typically the case regarding Vogon poetry readings, the sonnet's utterance instantly slayed all non-Vogons within earshot, including the entire Borg army and the last few hundred unassimilated humans on the planet.
Somewhat concerned by the cold reception of his masterpiece of sadomasochism, Salivos said, "Ah, that's a shame," before reentering his ship and lifting off back into the stars amidst a heap of bureaucratic paperwork.
THE END
