The starship Yoke of Destiny decelerated as it neared Mundo IV, its space drive ticking smoothly over as the mega-computrix which controlled its every function deftly calculated the optimum approach vector. Captain Brace Moanstar, hero of the Nethervoid Alliance, swished his tail impatiently as he waited for his science officer, the dashing and much decorated Hide Bounder, to make his report.
"Sorry I was delayed, Captain," said Bounder as he trotted onto the bridge, "but I think you'll want to see these new calculations I've just completed."
Moanstar quickly scanned the computer readout. "I may be wrong," he said, "but these appear to be mathematical symbols of some kind."
"Precisely Captain, Precisely!" Bounder said proudly, long strings of snot flowing from his broad, flat nose. "And now that we know that, perhaps we can analyze them in some way!"
Moanstar hesitated. "Mmmm...Yes. Good work, Bounder. Better man your station though; we're coming up on the planet."
Moanstar lowered himself heavily into his massive space-harness. "Activate viewscreen, Lt. Hoovesmason!"
"Aye, Captain," replied the young spacecow. A three legged cow who had almost been turned down by the Space Corp, Hoovesmason had proved skilled and loyal, becoming an indispensable part of the Destiny's command crew. He had also become Moanstar's right hand cow, and the Captain took full advantage of the chocolate milk dispenser built into the anti-gravity pod which replaced the young Lieutenant's fourth leg.
The virgin planet Mundo IV rotated sedately across the Destiny's flat liquid crystal viewscreen, also richly equipped with the P-I-P feature. "Use the P-I-P feature!" Moanstar said eagerly. Presently a smaller version of the planet appeared in a box in the upper right hand corner of the screen. Moanstar mooed with satisfaction.
"Planetary Survey thinks we've found an ideal location for our drone herds," Bounder said. "Shall I ready our landing party?"
"Yes, do," said Moanstar. "And I shall join them."
"May I remind the Captain...?"
Hoovesmason abruptly interrupted. "SPACE WOLVES!" he ejaculated thickly. The battle-hardened bovines turned quickly to face the viewscreen and froze in horror.
"Satan's Jackals!" swore Moanstar. "Our ancient enemies have returned at last..."
The proud Captain clutched his command chair with hooves of steel.
For there was no mistaking the deadly black shapes, the swift sure movements of a Space Wolf destroyer squadron. Three tails shot up in fear. Three sets of bowels clenched in determination. Three streams of semi-liquid waste hit the turbo-lift doors as one. The Space Cows were ready for action! Death's gaping maw beckoned...
© 2002 by Craig Snyder