March 7, 2025 • 11 mins
The Black Mongoose floated deep within the Delca solar system. It had been a long 3 day battle evading Dominion hunter vessels, and although a successful evasion, the ship had received one heck of a beating. on a plus side, It's twin core thruster engines purred with kinetic harmony whilst it's battle damaged hull received a well earned repair from it's onboard nano bots, But Inside, oh man, it's chaos… This usually comes as a ''day to day'' occurrence, mostly in the form of conversation, scorched tools, and dodgy coffee that probably, shouldn't really look the colour it does.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Black Mongoose floated deep within the Delka Solar System.
It had been a long three day battle evading Dominion
Hunter vessels, and although a successful evasion, the ship had
received one heck of a beating on a plus side.
Its twin core thruster engines purred with kinetic harmony, whilst
its battle damaged hull received a well earned repair from
(00:22):
its onboard nanobots. But inside, oh Man, it's chaos. This
usually comes as a day to day occurrence, mostly in
the form of conversation, scorched tools, and dodgy coffee that
probably shouldn't really look the color it does now, It's
no secret. Brachanine and Rugg Delthane fight constantly. This is
(00:46):
usually over tech stuff, wiring issues, or whose turn it
is to debug the ship's atmosphere filters, especially after one
of Taco's notoriously failed chili sauce experiments. But when it counted,
Rugg trusted Braka's fists more than most ships bulkheads, and Braka,
for all his complaints, had once dragged Rug out of
(01:07):
a collapsing gravity lab using just one arm and a
broken kitchen dessert whisk walking into the galley where Rug
is scanning plasma fields on his data pad. A carbon
scored Braga angrily slams a scorched plasma coil onto the table. Rug.
This thing blew up again. Are you listening, hey, come on, man,
(01:29):
you're supposed to be fixing these, you, dick, Rugg, putting
his head in his hands. That's because you've tried to
connect the coolant vent to the sonic disruptor port. Again.
Rugg pauses and takes in a deep breath. That's why
it's blown up, you absolute moron. Oh so I'm the moron,
stares Bragga angrily. You know what your problem is, don't you?
(01:53):
You actually think that you fucking know it all? Well,
guess what, brain fart. It fucking fitted, didn't it, he retared,
torts before slugging down a dodgy looking cold coffee. Rug
looks up from his data pad and looks over to Braca,
now sitting on the galley's main table, spitting out congealed
milk whilst picking lumps of yellow snot from his nose.
(02:15):
Rugg laughs as he puts his arm around Braga's shoulders. Listen,
my absent brained warrior, it also fucking fits when you
put your big shitty size eighteen boot in the ship's
serial dispenser. But that doesn't mean that's right either, now,
does it. Detta didn't need backup, but the twins like
to watch her work, partly out of awe, but mainly
(02:37):
out of the sheer risk involved by merely standing near her.
Debta looks over to the twins, both sitting cross legged
in the far corner of the cargo hold. She motions
them to come closer. Cheerfully, she wires a charge. Ever
seen someone attempt an anti personnel mind juggle? Watch this trick, bitches.
The twins Illa and Ivo Varn had no no origin,
(03:01):
no known allegiance, just two snipers who moved in eerie
synchronicity whilst cracking jokes at each other's expense. They were
usually unnervingly calm under pressure, and so sat with joyful
anticipation watching Debtta's juggling antics. You're so insane, Debta smiles.
Evo oh, and she's so beautiful, drools Illa, her eyes wide,
(03:24):
her grin wider. Kira and the ship's Ai Vixi have
a love hate relationship rooted in mutual disrespect and high
speed barrel rolls, Kira flew like a comet with a vendetta. Vixy, however,
preferred order numbers and being obeyed. Neither ever got what
they wanted. But when Vixi's systems were compromised during the
(03:46):
recent dominion attack, it was Kira who stayed up forty
eight hours straight rebuilding Vixi's voicecore. Slowly deliberately sliding over
the rear of the co pilot's leather chair, Kira puts
her lips to the mic, flicks open the coms switch,
and asks, hey, baby girl, you miss me. There's a
(04:07):
crackle in the speakers, a pause from the static build up,
and then the AI COM's light flickers green. Kira Thorn,
What have I told you about not wearing any underwear? Dammit,
replies Vixy. By climbing into that seat the way you
just did, You've voided sixteen safety protocols. You've most certainly
(04:27):
endangered a flock of nearby space geese and most probably
subnuked to colony of swags. Oh and emotionally, and I
do mean emotionally, offended my central navcor sensibilities. You luscious
wet bitch. Kira nervously continues the conversation she was having
with Vixy before the AI's circuits blew out. So ierm Tuesday,
(04:51):
asks Kara, staring into the COM's light. Oh yeah, Tuesday,
chuckles Vixy. Well, okay, hey tell you what. Just get
one of them zone wankers or whatever you flesh bags
call yourselves to let me know when it is that
you crash the goddamn thing, and I'll be sure to
save you a sweet recording, you know, just for your
(05:11):
fucking funeral playlist. Drake Vance the reluctant glue that held
the insanity together, Smooth, sardonic, and just unhinged enough to
steer the chaos rather than control it. Taco was his
polar opposite, emotional, explosive and completely unwilling to follow a
(05:31):
plan without rewriting it mid flight. They fought, often, sometimes
with fists, but when it came down to it, they
flew side by side through death battle and bad karaoke
nights without flinching. The Black Mongoose hovered in quiet stillness
above a shattered moon orbiting the planet careth Coult. Plasma
(05:53):
burns streaked the hull plating, which still glowed from atmospheric
reentry inside every bowlt hummed with exhaustion. The Zone Warriors
had barely survived the last encounter with Dominion interceptors. Shields
had failed, weapons had overheated. Suddenly, the ship's emergency channel
flared to life, a single coated transmission one they all
(06:16):
recognized instantly. Drake Vance now enters the bridge, wiping engine
grease from his hands. Ah shit, if they're calling us
now after what we just pulled, then something is seriously
fuck shaped wrong. The screen lit up. The unmistakable image
of Commander Tara Vellos of the Galactic Justice appeared stern,
(06:39):
scarred and radiant in crimson armor. Zone Warriors, we need
you now. She pauses, then looks directly deeply into the
camera and continues lyra Kane has infiltrated a Dominion Vault complex.
She's discovered Project's sable, an initiative to tear open a
quantum rift above the capital world of Cerxis Prime. She's
(07:02):
trapped surrounded, but she's managed to activate the beacon. Drake
went still, not visibly, not audibly, but completely. Taco Wren
raised an eyebrow. You mean the you better come save
me or I'll kill you Lyra style of beacon hell fire.
I'm still getting over the last one she set. There's
(07:26):
a pause blanking Taco's response. Drake turns on the calms
and commands Vixy bring the mongoose on fucking line now,
everybody pay attention. We are at code level two with
an all systems full burn. Prepare for battle. I think
it's time to kick some Dominion ass The mission Operation
(07:49):
Riftbane objective prevent the activation of the quantum Rift array
hidden beneath the surface of cerxis prime secondary objective extract
Lyra Kane and any intel she's recovered. Threat level terminal.
If the Rift tears open, Dominion forces could phase jump
entire fleets into planetary orbit undetected. The war would be
(08:13):
over in hours. The Galactic Justice, precise and professional, descended
from orbit in coordinated shock drops. Velos's team cut through
enemy ranks like a sharpened beam of justice, marking targets,
clearing corridors, and disabling defense grids. The Zone Warriors naturally
entered through the sewer line while the Galactic Justice pushed
(08:36):
forward with strategic efficiency. The Zone Warriors sowed chaos in
the shadows collapsing tunnels, hijacking power systems, and overriding Dominion
combat AI with re routed karaoke programming rug shouting over calms, Braka,
did you just throw a fucking gundrone at another gun drone?
(08:58):
They both exploded, you dickhead, so that counts. Braca yells back,
complete with extended middle finger aimed direct into his helmet cam.
Despite their methods, the two teams were flawlessly effective in tandem.
The Galactic Justice was the scalpel. The Zone Warriors were
the grenade. Together they cut the rot from the galaxy.
(09:20):
In the deepest layer of the vault, Lyra Kane held
her ground, surrounded by Dominion sentinels, one arm bleeding, her
stealth field flickering. Her message had reached them, but time
was gone. Then came the thunder. The wall detonated inward
fire screams chaos. Drake Vance appears in his long coat,
(09:43):
weapon drawn, smoke curling around his wide grin. They fought
back to back, Lyra's precision blades, Drake's misdirection and wild shots.
The passion between them, normally veiled beneath sarcasm and denial
ignited on the battlefield, covered him with effortless grace. He
risked everything to shield her with reckless abandon The others knew.
(10:07):
They didn't speak of it, but they knew. Debta opens
into calms if they start making out mid firefight again.
I'm selling viewing rights to some major out channels for
a fat paycheck. Because last time these horny bastards did this,
they got so goddamn hot. I had to take cold
vaxers for a fucking month. With Lyra's intel, the team
(10:30):
disabled the riff Generator, the Dominion's window into planetary conquest
slammed shut, Cirkuxus Prime was saved. In the aftermath, the
Galactic Justice and the Zone Warriors stood side by side
among the rubble. Commander Velos crackles over the colms. Your
unpredictable crude and a public relations nightmare, but damn effective. Yeah,
(10:54):
we'll take that as a compliment, yells back Taco, grinning
ear to ear like a demented moron. Lyra, quietly cleaning
her blade beside Drake, glances at him. This doesn't change anything,
you know, Nope, smiles Drake, but still rescuing you next time, though. Together,
the Galactic Justice and the Zone warriors reminded the galaxy
(11:17):
what real resistance looked like. Precision and passion, fire and steel,
control and chaos, and at the center of it all,
a love forged in war and veiled in fire.
The Black Mongoose floated deep within the Delka Solar System.
It had been a long three day battle evading Dominion
Hunter vessels, and although a successful evasion, the ship had
received one heck of a beating on a plus side.
Its twin core thruster engines purred with kinetic harmony, whilst
its battle damaged hull received a well earned repair from
(00:22):
its onboard nanobots. But inside, oh Man, it's chaos. This
usually comes as a day to day occurrence, mostly in
the form of conversation, scorched tools, and dodgy coffee that
probably shouldn't really look the color it does now, It's
no secret. Brachanine and Rugg Delthane fight constantly. This is
(00:46):
usually over tech stuff, wiring issues, or whose turn it
is to debug the ship's atmosphere filters, especially after one
of Taco's notoriously failed chili sauce experiments. But when it counted,
Rugg trusted Braka's fists more than most ships bulkheads, and Braka,
for all his complaints, had once dragged Rug out of
(01:07):
a collapsing gravity lab using just one arm and a
broken kitchen dessert whisk walking into the galley where Rug
is scanning plasma fields on his data pad. A carbon
scored Braga angrily slams a scorched plasma coil onto the table. Rug.
This thing blew up again. Are you listening, hey, come on, man,
(01:29):
you're supposed to be fixing these, you, dick, Rugg, putting
his head in his hands. That's because you've tried to
connect the coolant vent to the sonic disruptor port. Again.
Rugg pauses and takes in a deep breath. That's why
it's blown up, you absolute moron. Oh so I'm the moron,
stares Bragga angrily. You know what your problem is, don't you?
(01:53):
You actually think that you fucking know it all? Well,
guess what, brain fart. It fucking fitted, didn't it, he retared,
torts before slugging down a dodgy looking cold coffee. Rug
looks up from his data pad and looks over to Braca,
now sitting on the galley's main table, spitting out congealed
milk whilst picking lumps of yellow snot from his nose.
(02:15):
Rugg laughs as he puts his arm around Braga's shoulders. Listen,
my absent brained warrior, it also fucking fits when you
put your big shitty size eighteen boot in the ship's
serial dispenser. But that doesn't mean that's right either, now,
does it. Detta didn't need backup, but the twins like
to watch her work, partly out of awe, but mainly
(02:37):
out of the sheer risk involved by merely standing near her.
Debta looks over to the twins, both sitting cross legged
in the far corner of the cargo hold. She motions
them to come closer. Cheerfully, she wires a charge. Ever
seen someone attempt an anti personnel mind juggle? Watch this trick, bitches.
The twins Illa and Ivo Varn had no no origin,
(03:01):
no known allegiance, just two snipers who moved in eerie
synchronicity whilst cracking jokes at each other's expense. They were
usually unnervingly calm under pressure, and so sat with joyful
anticipation watching Debtta's juggling antics. You're so insane, Debta smiles.
Evo oh, and she's so beautiful, drools Illa, her eyes wide,
(03:24):
her grin wider. Kira and the ship's Ai Vixi have
a love hate relationship rooted in mutual disrespect and high
speed barrel rolls, Kira flew like a comet with a vendetta. Vixy, however,
preferred order numbers and being obeyed. Neither ever got what
they wanted. But when Vixi's systems were compromised during the
(03:46):
recent dominion attack, it was Kira who stayed up forty
eight hours straight rebuilding Vixi's voicecore. Slowly deliberately sliding over
the rear of the co pilot's leather chair, Kira puts
her lips to the mic, flicks open the coms switch,
and asks, hey, baby girl, you miss me. There's a
(04:07):
crackle in the speakers, a pause from the static build up,
and then the AI COM's light flickers green. Kira Thorn,
What have I told you about not wearing any underwear? Dammit,
replies Vixy. By climbing into that seat the way you
just did, You've voided sixteen safety protocols. You've most certainly
(04:27):
endangered a flock of nearby space geese and most probably
subnuked to colony of swags. Oh and emotionally, and I
do mean emotionally, offended my central navcor sensibilities. You luscious
wet bitch. Kira nervously continues the conversation she was having
with Vixy before the AI's circuits blew out. So ierm Tuesday,
(04:51):
asks Kara, staring into the COM's light. Oh yeah, Tuesday,
chuckles Vixy. Well, okay, hey tell you what. Just get
one of them zone wankers or whatever you flesh bags
call yourselves to let me know when it is that
you crash the goddamn thing, and I'll be sure to
save you a sweet recording, you know, just for your
(05:11):
fucking funeral playlist. Drake Vance the reluctant glue that held
the insanity together, Smooth, sardonic, and just unhinged enough to
steer the chaos rather than control it. Taco was his
polar opposite, emotional, explosive and completely unwilling to follow a
(05:31):
plan without rewriting it mid flight. They fought, often, sometimes
with fists, but when it came down to it, they
flew side by side through death battle and bad karaoke
nights without flinching. The Black Mongoose hovered in quiet stillness
above a shattered moon orbiting the planet careth Coult. Plasma
(05:53):
burns streaked the hull plating, which still glowed from atmospheric
reentry inside every bowlt hummed with exhaustion. The Zone Warriors
had barely survived the last encounter with Dominion interceptors. Shields
had failed, weapons had overheated. Suddenly, the ship's emergency channel
flared to life, a single coated transmission one they all
(06:16):
recognized instantly. Drake Vance now enters the bridge, wiping engine
grease from his hands. Ah shit, if they're calling us
now after what we just pulled, then something is seriously
fuck shaped wrong. The screen lit up. The unmistakable image
of Commander Tara Vellos of the Galactic Justice appeared stern,
(06:39):
scarred and radiant in crimson armor. Zone Warriors, we need
you now. She pauses, then looks directly deeply into the
camera and continues lyra Kane has infiltrated a Dominion Vault complex.
She's discovered Project's sable, an initiative to tear open a
quantum rift above the capital world of Cerxis Prime. She's
(07:02):
trapped surrounded, but she's managed to activate the beacon. Drake
went still, not visibly, not audibly, but completely. Taco Wren
raised an eyebrow. You mean the you better come save
me or I'll kill you Lyra style of beacon hell fire.
I'm still getting over the last one she set. There's
(07:26):
a pause blanking Taco's response. Drake turns on the calms
and commands Vixy bring the mongoose on fucking line now,
everybody pay attention. We are at code level two with
an all systems full burn. Prepare for battle. I think
it's time to kick some Dominion ass The mission Operation
(07:49):
Riftbane objective prevent the activation of the quantum Rift array
hidden beneath the surface of cerxis prime secondary objective extract
Lyra Kane and any intel she's recovered. Threat level terminal.
If the Rift tears open, Dominion forces could phase jump
entire fleets into planetary orbit undetected. The war would be
(08:13):
over in hours. The Galactic Justice, precise and professional, descended
from orbit in coordinated shock drops. Velos's team cut through
enemy ranks like a sharpened beam of justice, marking targets,
clearing corridors, and disabling defense grids. The Zone Warriors naturally
entered through the sewer line while the Galactic Justice pushed
(08:36):
forward with strategic efficiency. The Zone Warriors sowed chaos in
the shadows collapsing tunnels, hijacking power systems, and overriding Dominion
combat AI with re routed karaoke programming rug shouting over calms, Braka,
did you just throw a fucking gundrone at another gun drone?
(08:58):
They both exploded, you dickhead, so that counts. Braca yells back,
complete with extended middle finger aimed direct into his helmet cam.
Despite their methods, the two teams were flawlessly effective in tandem.
The Galactic Justice was the scalpel. The Zone Warriors were
the grenade. Together they cut the rot from the galaxy.
(09:20):
In the deepest layer of the vault, Lyra Kane held
her ground, surrounded by Dominion sentinels, one arm bleeding, her
stealth field flickering. Her message had reached them, but time
was gone. Then came the thunder. The wall detonated inward
fire screams chaos. Drake Vance appears in his long coat,
(09:43):
weapon drawn, smoke curling around his wide grin. They fought
back to back, Lyra's precision blades, Drake's misdirection and wild shots.
The passion between them, normally veiled beneath sarcasm and denial
ignited on the battlefield, covered him with effortless grace. He
risked everything to shield her with reckless abandon The others knew.
(10:07):
They didn't speak of it, but they knew. Debta opens
into calms if they start making out mid firefight again.
I'm selling viewing rights to some major out channels for
a fat paycheck. Because last time these horny bastards did this,
they got so goddamn hot. I had to take cold
vaxers for a fucking month. With Lyra's intel, the team
(10:30):
disabled the riff Generator, the Dominion's window into planetary conquest
slammed shut, Cirkuxus Prime was saved. In the aftermath, the
Galactic Justice and the Zone Warriors stood side by side
among the rubble. Commander Velos crackles over the colms. Your
unpredictable crude and a public relations nightmare, but damn effective. Yeah,
(10:54):
we'll take that as a compliment, yells back Taco, grinning
ear to ear like a demented moron. Lyra, quietly cleaning
her blade beside Drake, glances at him. This doesn't change anything,
you know, Nope, smiles Drake, but still rescuing you next time, though. Together,
the Galactic Justice and the Zone warriors reminded the galaxy
(11:17):
what real resistance looked like. Precision and passion, fire and steel,
control and chaos, and at the center of it all,
a love forged in war and veiled in fire.
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