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Og-tober 2016 Fanfic Challenge
trevor travis

The slightly dishevelled figure stood on the flight deck of Scorpio.

“Slave, how long before we make planet-fall?”

His in-built ship’s computer replied.

“One hour, master. That is Earth standard time, of course. I hope that is satisfactory.”

Dorian half-smiled. The inhabitants of this planet would keep him alive and healthy for a long time to come.


“Me not like dark”, stated Og.

“Me agree”, replied Cog, one of his brothers. “Room is too dark. But man was going to shoot us with harpoon if we refused to go down stairs.”

Dorian was rambling. The animals were difficult to engage in conversation, so he was most talking to himself.

“You see. It will work - it begins”, he crowed as the room grew brighter.

“I knew it would. The room accepts you. It will make you one and give you my death. They die quickly now – even the Liberator crew have only lasted just a year, despite my beloved Soolin thrown into the bargain. My corruption has become too much. But a whole horde of semi-intelligent genetically created animals! If my calculations are correct, I’ve bought myself another three decades!”

Suddenly an odd-looking gestalt figure appeared in the strange fluorescent light. It was dressed in a black leather jacket with studs, had a mop of curly hair and had a finely shaped bottom.

Vila stealthily made his way down the stairwell. He was a gaunt figure, having survived for twelve months on nuts and berries.

“Here you go”, Vila whispered, as he handed the gun to Og.

Og understood what he must do. He shot the strange creature.

Dorian screamed in a hideously over the top manner and collapsed to the floor. He began to age rapidly. He howled once more as he died. In moments, all that was left was a pile of dust, which then blew away in the wind.

Meanwhile, the creature transformed back into the bodies of Avon, Tarrant, Soolin and Dayna. They looked beautiful and young and peaceful in death.

“What we do now?”, queried Og.

“Do you guys like wine?”, asked Vila.


“How did the conquest of the planet Xenon go, father?”, queried Zeeona.

Zukan looked embarrassed. His best men had been fought off by a horde of hyper-active horned, hairy creatures. If Zukan didn’t know better, he swore he could smell alcohol on the creatures' breaths.

“I think we can continue our domination of this region of space without Xenon”, he said, in a tone that left no doubt that he wanted the matter dismissed.


“What is going on with that Wanderer Class Mark Two Planet Hopper?”, enquired Servalan to her captain. “It’s swaying all over the place.”

On board Scorpio, its crew were having a ball, taking their drinks from a cabinet which was once been known as Orac.

“Me happy!” “Gardinos here we come!” “Me can’t feel my own tail!” “After we’ve picked up my Valkyrie guard, of course” “Hic!!”

Edited by trevor travis on 05 October 2016 13:01:58
@RaineSz: Yes, it was a tough choice. For the sake of the story, I had to let him take the teddy; also, we already know that Avon has a teddy bear. I am glad that I refrained from mentioning a wombat ... Wink

I am so sorry I arrived here so late to miss the Roj Bear discussions. Sad

Heh heh, wombat. Wink

@Trevor Travis: Tell Og that that I'm one of his biggest fans. Someday there will be fan art. Someday.
trevor travis
Rainesz wrote:

@RaineSz: Yes, it was a tough choice. For the sake of the story, I had to let him take the teddy; also, we already know that Avon has a teddy bear. I am glad that I refrained from mentioning a wombat ... Wink

I am so sorry I arrived here so late to miss the Roj Bear discussions. Sad

Heh heh, wombat. Wink

@Trevor Travis: Tell Og that that I'm one of his biggest fans. Someday there will be fan art. Someday.

I think the early 2016 fanfics have quite a bit of Roj Bear, if you want to catch up Wink

Meanwhile, Og is really exciting about featuring in fan art. He said he promises that he'll stay as still as possible while you draw him... until it's time for food!
What great stories...thanks guys.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
@ Brad, that is one great logical explanation! Love it!
@TT, that’s a neatly thought out humoristic fan fic. I would love to see that in a performance.
@Hugbot very original build up to Avon’s character! Somehow I expected , for Og’s sake , Justin to be the other reward winner with a choice of a certain Bucol, horned creature….

I hope to find some time to contribute to the fan fic challenge again very soon.
Lara&Sue's Blake's 7 stories
*No, I am not. I am not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going.*
Meanwhile, Og is really exciting about featuring in fan art. He said he promises that he'll stay as still as possible while you draw him... until it's time for food!

Well, I'm that way too, Og. I'll draw as long as possible... until it's time for food. Wink
I'll have to join in on these once I'm finished with my unwanted move. What I'm hoping for are the adventures of 'Moloch'. Smile
Angry Angel
That's my kind of happy ending TT! I wonder what an Animal gestalt would have looked like? Just an even bigger Og?
trevor travis
Angry Angel wrote:

That's my kind of happy ending TT! I wonder what an Animal gestalt would have looked like? Just an even bigger Og?

I think so: a giant Og.

Once I realised that I was pairing Vila with the Oggies, only one ending was possible. The Oggies would quickly find out, as much as they like their food, that drink is even better Pfft Pfft Pfft
They found him by chance on one of their periodic round ups of Outsiders. Just his luck to be hiding out with the group suspected of supplying scrub meat to dissidents. Terror at what they might do to him was mixed with relief - he'd hated living in the open, the unfamiliar sounds, the ingrained dirt under his fingernails, the smells. Hated the gamey wild protein and blemished fruits they ate and the water which tasted of vegetation. Most of all, he hated the sky, roofless and infinite and the panic he had to quell whenever he looked up, a panic which worsened as he sweated the suppressants from his system.

They were rough with him at first - a blow from a blaster to the back, a kick when he stumbled, but once the machine identified him as Trooper Bax they were more careful. Cursing and spitting at him left no obvious mark. He was cleaned up, shaved, put on trial.

"Why?" they asked him repeatedly. He couldn't go back, he said. Not after Zircaster and what they'd done to that woman and baby. "What had they done?" He couldn't answer. Just thinking about it brought the bile rushing into his throat and he'd spewed and spewed.

Guilty of Desertion and Gross Dereliction of Duty. Assigned to Bucol 2. It didn't seem too bad. He was to help the Federation they said. An important experiment. He and a few other deserters were herded into a transporter. Calmed by the sonar vapour, back on Dome rations, he was almost happy. Six months it took them to reach their destination. They played cards, sang songs, shared photos of those they left behind. At least they were alive.

"This one is promising!"

Repeated sessions on the machine had left him disorientated, weak, the pain in his head worsening with each procedure and he squinted to bring into focus the shape that was reading the print out of his results. It turned towards him. Empty eyes examined him.

"Yes. He's our best bet."

Darkness. Resistance. Light.

His head feels heavy, unbalancing his movements and when he lifts it he finds he is staring at a solid white block where all the blue should be. The straw feels familiar/dirty. It confuses him what he feels. There are more white blocks around him. "Walls" he thinks but where the word comes from he does not know. He doesn't like it here.

A voice... Smooth like water but with a taint. He doesn't trust it.

"Food, Og. Come to the hatch."

Og? Is that him? He remembers another name but doesn't know what it was.

The enticing smell of food mixes with another scent, sweetly sour, sharp, different. Wrong.

"Danger," his instincts scream, warring with reason that insists he must go forward or starve. He scrambles onto four legs towards the smell.

"Stand up", a command from deep in his brain. Insistent. "Stand up. We're not an animal."
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Angry Angel
Anniew, I like it! Nice backstory for Og, very believable.
The good(ish) end happily and the bad unhappily. That's what fiction is all about.

Dorian had chosen well- the gestalt was working perfectly. He felt younger, his appetites keener than they had been for decades. He showered presents on his blonde companion, delighting as she luxuriated in silks, changed the colour of her hair, exclaimed over the sparkling jewellery and exotic perfumes he gave her. When he kissed her now, her response contained more than affection and concern.

Some times he was troubled by a mental voice-the deep distaste of the telepath, the weary rancour, sharp indignation and the fear emitted by her other selves- but fleetingly. He had long practice at blocking it out. Let her shuffle and moan in the cellar in grotesque union with her companions: he was free now to enjoy the stars.

His only irritation was Pella. She hadn't delivered on the teleport which he'd hoped to sell to the Federation; nor had he been able to circumvent the encryptions that Avon had programmed into Orac so he could use the machine to build it. He'd have to give Pella a while longer to come good before cutting off her supplies but meanwhile he needed another way to boost his income.

A visit to Bucol 2 provided him with an answer. Justin was a regular client but he had quibbled about the recent price rise, so it amused him this time to deliver the vistapes in person just to point out who was in charge. Oh he'd enjoyed watching that smooth, fleshy face contract with apprehension; Justin's stuttering attempts with his fellow scientists to cover up the real reason for the visit. When Dorian left he was holding the concession to supply beasts to the Bucol Consortium and a verbal promise that he would be given one of the hybrid creatures once they had been successfully adapted.

Back at base, he bribed Cato with a replacement panel for his solar control room and Cato then persuaded Gun Sarr to order the capture of six of the huge horned cattle that ran wild on the Xenon grassland. One of the Hommicks lost an eye and the lead bull's cow and calf had to be destroyed but those were the only casualties.

On his return from Bucol he found Soolin watching a vistape he had carelessly left out, one featuring a little blond girl.

"I didn't know you were into stuff like that," he remarked,

"There's a lot about me you don't know, " she replied as she pulled him into a long deep kiss. "Here. I made you a drink. Let's go to bed. I've missed you."

It took Dorian a long time to die. Soolin simply shut the door on him, ignoring his cries and curses. He deserved his death. She would never forget the helpless, terrified look in the eyes of both the huge beast and the little girl, or that Dorian was responsible for that terror and had bought her silks and perfumes with it.

In the cellar, the gestalt moaned and writhed and fell apart. A shriek echoed around the glistening walls and five bodies sprawled where once the monstrous corruption had dragged itself. Struggling free, a small brown disc crawled to the temple of one of the bodies, a slight girl, and called and called, summoning her spirit back from the darkness where it hid.

With a start, Cally and her companions, woke.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Joe Dredd
trevor travis wrote:
“Plus Slartibartfast take thousands of years to design Soolin’s rear each time”, rejoined the first creature.

“Me appreciate that. She lovely.”

“Me know!” Both stood there, looking wistful for a moment. Or as wistfully as it’s possible to look when you’re a pair of shaggy, furry, horned creatures.

I think I now understand the origin of the verb "ogle".
Joe Dredd wrote:I think I now understand the origin of the verb "ogle".
Brilliant, Joe Dredd! hahahah!
Sod the move. Might have a go. Not sure if I'm supposed to join in or if I can just have a crack at something new, but here's a wild go.

The walls of the Liberator glare at me as they have so many times now my eye's glaze over. Still they do help me think about a certain bar back on Earth that I used to frequent.

Those were the days. Steal a little item here, wheel and deal a little item there but best of all, just enjoy the endless supply of Soma and wonderful company to enjoy.

What was the name of that lovely girl at the 'Galaxy Explorer' bar? Oh yes. Shilli. Beautiful Shilli. The way the other patrons would try to hit on her was hilarious. Stupid comments like 'Hey gorgeous how about a round of Soma with the town planning officer from Alpha sector four' or 'Those legs belong to someone like myself from Sector Beta 84'. Seriously? What did they think Shilli was? A number fetishist?

I'd chat with her, but never try to hit on her. Shilli was like an Angel, so easy to get along with and so pleasant. I often used to wonder how she could stay so warm and pleasant with such a bunch of cold Federation posers but she did.

"Shilli. Here's a good one for you. What do you get if you put a bunch Federation Guards in a pair of galoshes?"

"Hmmm, you have me on this one Vila. What do you get?"

"Cops and Rubbers."

"Vila that's lame even by Federation standards."

"Well I think this calls for a round of Soma, would you agree?"

Shilli laughed sardonically but nodded just the same.
Lovely little Vila vignette, Spaceship Researcher. Really glad you've joined in.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
@TT: Yay, another funny romp! That’s what I call a good ending! Scorpio as a party ship under Vila’s command and with a Bucol crew .... where can I sign up for this trip?

@Anniew: Two serious Og stories – I knew I could rely on you! With the first one, you give us a very credible and shocking insight in Justin’s experiments. I especially liked the last sentence, with Bax/Og maintaining his dignity. Yes, the real animals are those who did these abominable experiments. – When creep Justin and creep Dorian meet, the creepiness gets to a new height (or should I say, depth?)! We always knew that they both were very unwholesome characters, but you have given us a look into an abyss that I still didn’t expect. *Shudder* And after that, you give us the resurrection of our heroes with a fascinating twist on the moondisk-on-the-temples scene from one of your previous stories. A highly intense rollercoaster ride.

@Spaceresearcher: Vila’s ‘pick-up experiment’ is a lovely read. I had to chuckle when Vila says, ‘I’d never try to hit on her’, and then tries to hit on her (with a line in true Ultraworld style only marginally better than the dreaded wormdo line Grin). Reminds me of a math test at school when my neighbour got telescope eyes and the teacher reprimanded for ‘not to copy’ my work. ‘I didn’t want to copy it’, he said, ‘I just wanted to compare the results.’
I hope nobody feels offended by the following story. I am well aware and want to state explicitly that the action is completely unrealistic, because none of us would do this to each other.

Cry Havoc and Let Slip the Ogs of War

Enough was enough. After suffering silently for ten minutes, I finally turned to my right and said, ‘Trev, I think this was a bad idea.’

Trevor Travis shook his head. ‘It’s a social experiment,’ he explained, ‘and I think it is very succesful! Just look at him! He is completely fascinated by the play.’

‘Looking at him is pretty much the only thing I can do,’ I complained. ’I can’t see anything of the play. Why did you have to book a seat for him right in front of me?’

‘It was the only one left.’

It was hopeless. In my exasperation, I turned to my left. ‘Paula, can I borrow your street sign?’ I asked politely. ‘Just to pat him on the head. Maybe he bends a little forward so that I can see something.’

‘Oh, no, please don’t,’ Paula replied. ‘He grunted so lovely things about Del Grant, I wouldn’t want anyone to harm him.’

Brad leaned into the conversation from his seat at Paula’s side. ‘Just relax and enjoy the beautiful language of the Bard’, he suggested.

‘But that’s Josette on stage! I travelled 500 miles to see her. How would you feel if it were Sally and you had this walking hatrack in front of you?’

We were interrupted when another visitor angrily whispered, ‘Will you please be quiet?’ He sat twenty rows behind us, but we could clearly understand every word although he only whispered. A strange guy. In my opionion, a hooded cloak and sneakers are not exactly a suitable apparel for a visit to the theatre.

It was pointless. They were all so happy that Trev finally had let Og out of his garden shed so that he could mix with people. I have nothing against a social experiment – but did it have to be right in front of me?

I looked at Trevor who was absorbed by the action on stage of which I could see nothing. Well, plans were already made for the next Horizon theatre outing, watching a play starring Glynis Barber. Maybe I should get my metal friend out of my garden shed for this occasion ...
Fantastic Hugbot!!! I'd like the sequel. Taking Og to McDonalds perhaps and his reaction to realising he was eating a relative!! Smile
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Cry Havoc and Let Slip the Ogs of War

Huggy. Four stars for the title alone!
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