High Noon in Outer Space

High Noon In Outer Space became my wordascope for NaNoWriMo 2011

In the distant future Robot Space Hitler is at war with the British Star Empire. In a bid to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat he sends two laser toting Fräulein back in time to assassinate Benjamin Disraeli in order to cause the collapse of the British Star Empire. However Robot Space Hitler did not count on the whiles and cunning of zombie Isambard Kingdom Brunel and his crack team of time agents.

This is not something to be taken even slightly seriously.

“Blink and you’ll miss it…

Blink and you’ll never believe it was there at all…

Don’t blink…

But if you do, you’ll probably be glad you did…

At least when you find out what it was….

A thin sliver of bright, iridescent light against the field of space. So bright that it blots out the stars, the sun and every glimmer of light in the sky. It is beauty beyond measure, something so pure and rarefied as to be beyond the grasp and faculty of words to describe. It is a mighty brush stroke standing proud and magnificent on the blank field of space. It is the tears of creations itself. It is the colour of joy and the flavour of first love. It is a sublime whimsy a domain of sprites and angels. It is one thousand souls being scorched into dust and blasted into their component atoms.

It is war.

The victims of this piece of interstellar art are the rag-tag remnants of the Austro-Germanic Conglomerate’s third fleet. They were fleeing from a surprise attack in the shadow of Iapetus by the forces of the Great British Star Empire. These unfortunate survivors have just fallen prey to the handiwork of the HMS Helix, mine layer extraordinaire.

Out in the distance a bright pin prick of blue light flares against the vista of space. A single, lone and perfect sapphire amidst a scattering of diamonds, all together on black velvet. That is Pluto being boiled into gas by the attack batteries of eighteen battleships of the British Ort Fleet, lead by the HMS Hood. Eight thousand German infantrymen waiting to be deployed have just been rendered unfit for service.

The Austro-Germanic Conglomerate is routing. It is routing at the hands of and empire imbued with so much wrath and lust for retribution that no amount of blood shall slake its thirst. Launching offensive after offensive and attack after attack, headless of the cost. It is moments like this that decide wars, points upon which everything will turn. This is the showdown, the last hurrah.

It is high noon in outer space and war has never been more beautiful.”


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