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Ship-to-Ship Combat in the 32nd CenturyThe first thing you wanna do is forget everything you’ve seen in the movies and vidshows, with all those scenes of capital ships slugging it out with each other at short range. That almost never happens, and if it does then it means something’s gone terribly wrong. While they may make for some exciting action on the screen, with the kind of ordnance our modern warships are carrying you do not want to be in that kind of situation because the death tolls tend to be through the roof. Even if you are lucky enough to make it out alive, chances are a lot of your friends won’t be.
Real ship-to-ship combat generally occurs at such great distances that the ships involved are well beyond visual range of each other (and, given that warships are universally painted in flat black or dark gray to minimize albedo, you’d be hard pressed to see them even if they weren't), and is largely dependent on reflexes and fast thinking. Most engagements are over as soon as they’ve b
There's Aliens in the Field“Paw! Paw! There’s aliens in the field, Paw!”
Horace Greebley rose and turned to his son, forming his mouthparts into an expression of paternal indulgence. “Now son, what did we tell you about making things up?”
Mort skidded to a stop on the kitchen tiles, waving an upper limb at the back door. “But I aint, Paw! There’s aliens crashed in the field, I seen ‘em!”
Horace sighed and ruffled his son’s cranial integument with a cluster of manipulator digits. “Okay, okay, Mort. Where are the aliens?”
The ship was indeed crashed in the field, right where Mort had said it was. In retrospect, Horace wondered why he hadn’t heard the impact from the house. It looked like it would have been rather loud. “See Paw?” Mort said, pointing as though his father needed the scorched, twisted metal hulk currently sitting in the middle of the burning remains of his field pointed out to him. “See? It’s aliens!
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More