Written for Trifecta. Story begins after the image.
Genre: Science Fiction/Humor
Word Count: 333
“Are you serious?” Captain Rebecca MacEnroe glared at President Greenbaum.
“I’m truly sorry, Captain. The Eventi have already gone.
“You couldn’t have told us this before an expensive battalion of Marines landed?”
“They damaged our hyper-space transmitter. We couldn’t tell you.”
MacEnroe’s shoulders sagged. A feat with battle-armor on. “Very well, Mr. President. I guess, we’ll be going now.” MacEnroe stepped out of the colony’s capital building, a prefab structure about the size of a cottage, and into the giant Redwood analogs of Agrenus IV. Her executive officer stepped up beside her as she stomped her way to the command tank. “Recall the troops, Holt,” she grated. “False alarm.”
“Already done, Ma’am. Tech group reports that eight battle-drones have gone offline.”
“Unusual, but not impossible. Shall I dispatch repair teams?”
“Leave ’em. We’ve wasted too much time here already. It’s not like these bark-chewing, candy-ass, hippies would ever go near them.”
In the capital building, President Greenbaum wiped celebratory cookie crumbs off his jeans. “Another successful operation I’d say, Greg.”
The town mayor moved a chunk of Tiljon bark to the other side of his mouth. His eyes already red from the THC. “Worked like a charm.”
Greenbaum’s aide, sitting across the table continued his litany of acquisitions. “24 landing sleds. They always leave those behind. 7 battle-drones hacked successfully. They’ll be handy as construction equipment.”
“Bottom line,” said Greenbaum. “What can we build with all this?”
“We could make 100 self-sustaining, multi-family homes with all the power generation they need.”
“This is stupid,” whined Greenbaum’s son. “Why the charade?”
Greenbaum sighed. “Edward. You know this planet lacks the rare-earth minerals to make the good-for-anything molycircs for electronics.”
“So requisition them!”
“Takes forever. We ordered twelve quantum-control networks, what, four years ago? Still haven’t seen them. A week ago, we put in a distress call regarding Earth’s arch enemy, the Eventi, and Hazzah! Molycircs for the next 10 years left behind.”
“What about in 10 years?”
“Easy. We’ll just have to be in invaded again!”
The weekly Trifecta writing challenge is limited to between 33 and 333 words. This week the third definition of “ass” is the prompt (3. (adverb/adjective) often vulgar—often used as a postpositive intensive especially with words of derogatory implication). Original prompt is here: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/09/trifecta-week-ninety-seven.html