Press Any Key To Destroy The Galaxy

Aboard the flagship "Don't Make Me Come Over There"

Jarrl the Conqueror of Galaxies, Emperor of the Seven Nebulas, Master Breeder of the Mighty Jarrlaxian warrior race and renowned Dodecathlete, stepped foot into his ship's bridge.

The crew stood up in attention and saluted, limbs and tentacles all firmly in place, hailing the Emperor.

"At ease," Jarrl grunted and sat on his commander's chair. The crew snapped their attention back to their consoles, hard at work.

The XO hurried to the emperor's side, presenting his datapad. "Sir, the status reports," he said.

"Are we on schedule?" the emperor asked, hinting that any delay would mean someone's lineage would be culled from the race. The XO had no fear of that, he was the finest officer in the whole fleet, right-hand man to the Emperor, taking care of the flagship's issues with a spotless record.

"The supermassive black hole Fornax A is being shipped as we speak, Sir," the XO replied firmly.

"Good," the Emperor said and smiled, with a satisfied crouch in his chair. "Was there any problem convincing the system's Ruler to part with their black hole?"

"At first. The diplomatic team says they were concerned about environmental issues and some time-dilation problems. But their main issue was losing their radio source, which is the black hole itself."

The Emperor spun his eyes at his XO with mild interest. He had a scar over his eye, which could be removed of course with plastic surgery, but the Emperor had decided to keep. He thought it made him look scary. He was right. "How did they handle it then?"

"Fornax A is the fourth-brightest radio source in the sky. Apparently the civilisations in the galaxy around it have become accustomed to the frequencies. We offered to migrate the entire race of screeching leeches to a planet near the galaxy's centre, to imitate the effect the black hole had."

"Send someone to oversee the project," the Emperor waved away. "My word is my bond."

The XO tapped away and signed the order documents, reassigning an officer to it. He would have to capture all of the screeching leeches, ship them to the galaxy Fornax A, terraform a planet and train them to screech at exactly 1400 MHz. It was a fate worse than death.

He remembered an officer that had spilt his drink on him by accident.

He would do nicely.

The XO grunted with malice, a low, deep rumble and sent the order away.

The Emperor leaned forward, overseeing the crew's consoles.

"Sir, we are being hailed," the communications officer said, almost yelling out the words from anxiety.

"Put it on our screen," the Emperor ordered and looked up at the big view.

A serpentine face showed up, dressed in fancy garments and carrying a sceptre.

"Sarrl," the Emperor hissed, gritting his teeth at his nemesis. "Do we finally have your surrender?"

"Jarrl," the face on the screen hissed back. "How long till the fact of, 'immovable object' goes through that thick skull of yours?"

"There is no such thing in reality. Hide behind that barrier all you like. I will get through."

The Sarrlaxian race, the only real opposing force left to the Jarrlaxians, had been forced to retreat to its home galaxy after the horrific losses at the battle of the constellation Aquila, or how it's most commonly known, the Booze Cloud. Their scientists had managed to erect a seven-dimensional barrier that enveloped their home galaxy in a crystal-like casing. They claimed it was a true immovable object. Jarrl had laid siege to it for a thousand years, bringing his whole armada to blast it out of the sky.