From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael A. Rigler)
Subject: [KQ] [FACTORY] Elite Guardsmen Strike Back!!!
Summary: ...NOT
Organization: IFA
Date: Wed, 19 Aug 1992 01:57:22 GMT

LEVEL 1 of the JOYSTIX FACTORY:

Sangosti the Bookkeeper flees shrieking up the hallway.  "Monsters!  Lizards!"

As he bursts into the barracks, the night shift consisting of elite guardsmen
is already coming awake and strapping on arms and armor.  Wernher comes up 
from the level below and places a firm hand on SanGosti's shoulder.

"Calm yourself, scribe!"  The Security Chief says in a firm voice.  "How
many invaders are there?  How are they armed?"

"I...I saw just one.  Back in my quarters.  Not human.  S-some sort of 
reptile."  The scribe's features suddenly brighten.  "I killed it!"

Werner rolls his eyes.  "Oh for pity's sake.  It was probably just a 
baby T-crock.  I'll go remove the body from your quarters."

The Mind Flayer, Quruuminias steps up.  "No, that was no T-crock I sensed.  
Too intelligent.  I'll take care of it.  I can scan for others of its kind.  
I don't want reptiles near my laboratory equipment."  The mind flayer departs 
back down the eastern hallway to where Thk has just revived himself from the 
scribe's poison.

Wernher turns to his men, who are in the process of removing their armor
after the false alarm.  They have had only a few hours of sleep.  Wernher
shakes his head.

"All right men!  What do you think you're doing?  Since you're all awake
anyway, we're going to have a practice drill!"  

At this news, a few the more inexperienced men groan.  The rest are silent, 
fearing Wernher's wrath.

"WHO SAID THAT?!?  What if that had been a real enemy, like, say, a 
detachment of the City Guardsmen, coming down the ladder, huh?!?  From 
what I just saw you all move like you've got a bad case of armor rash!
Practice makes perfect!  PRACTICE!  PRACTICE!  PRACTICE!  What makes us
perfect, men?"

As one, twenty-three men yell "PRACTICE!"  Two rookies, the twins named 
Jalbar and Halbar, yell "ASSHOLE!" instead.

"Very good.  Now, you all know the drill."  Wernher takes two wooden, padded
swords off the rack and hands them to Jalbar and Halbar.  "You two go up the 
hallway to the staircase, count to one hundred, and then pretend to be a 
detachment of City Guardsmen."

The two rookies pale and look at each other nervously, but they depart
obediently.  "YesSIR!"

Wernher turns to the other men, all wide awake now and grinning.  "The 
rest of you take off your armor and pretend to be asleep until you hear 
them coming.  You know what to do.  Wooden swords only.  And don't hurt 
'em too bad."

The Chief of Security kills the light and jumps into one of the available
bunks.  "Asshole indeed."  He closes his eyes and waits...

                     * ------------- * ------------ *

Jalbar and Halbar hasten up the western hallway, wearing only their cotton 
underpadding and armed only with padded wooden swords.  As they reach the 
ladder to the upper level, they look at each other nervously.  

"Come on.  Let's get this over with."  Jalbar mutters.

"Yeah, we knew they'd haze us when we took the job.  The money makes it 
worth it."  Halbar says going up the ladder.

"Plus the fringe benefits.  Wait."  Jalbar cracks a joystix tube in half
and hands half of it to his brother.

"Oh man.  We aren't s'posed to do the product.  Wernher will kill us if
he finds out...Oh, what the hell.  Just don't get any on your nose."

A moment later, suitably braced for the upcoming ordeal, the two climb
up the ladder to near the top, and begin counting to one-hundred.  The
trap door above them occasionally vibrates.

"...twenty-seven, twenty-eight..." Jalbar counts, dreamily.

"God I hate that Octopus thing." Halbar complains.  "I hate anything with
EIGHT arms."

"...nine...ten...eleven..."  Jalbar continues.

"And it eats so much.  It can't be worth it's weight in guardsmen.  Why,
just last week we had to feed it SEVEN cows."  Halbar whines.

"...eight...nine...ten..."  Jalbar continues, nodding his agreement.

"That slimy thing would be so easy to kill.  It's practically NINETY-EIGHT
percent fat tissue anyway."  Halbar boasts.

"...ninety-nine...one-hundred..."  Jalbar finishes.  "Well, lets get on 
with it.  This is going to suck eggs."  

The two brothers head down the ladder.  Halbar stops his brother.  "Wait 
a sec.  I could use another hit.  Got any more on you?"

"Yeah...I got a few more here somewhere..."

<snort>  <wheeze>  "Oh..."   <snoot>  <gasp>  "Oh yeahhh..."  <honk>

Jalbar turns to his brother.  "Hey...I'm feeling pretty good about this."

Halbar grins.  "Me too.  Let's go kick some butt.  Wanna make some noise?"

"No..." Jalbars eyes unfocus for a long moment.  Then "No, let's go in 
quiet..."

"Yeah..."

The two brothers heft their wooden swords and head up the western hallway
in the wrong direction.  Soon they become hopelessly lost in an unused 
storeroom and pass out. 

Meanwhile, behind them, the trap-door creaks open.  Kron and Maleiu peer 
down the stepladder cautiously.  All seems quiet.

"Allright.  Who goes first?"  Kron whispers.


    \========C\                Rigler...
              \\ 
  <===========C ]==|[///////////////////]|==========|[////////////]D>
              //  
    /========C/                 ...Thk


--
Rigler                       Joy and Sorrow are the wings of Yearning 
                  
                  
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