Cadet Jackson, Episode II (Part 1)

by King on November 12, 2014

Space court is NOW in session, all rise for the honorable Judge J’shuz.”

The court is already in mass disarray, as the metallic bailiff attempts to announce the arrival of the betentacled Justice, who seats himself behind his cyber podium and plugs himself into the Non-Bias Engine.

“Order, ORDER IN MY COURT!” The justice cries out, abusing the cyber podium violently with his laser-gavel. His voice comes out even harsher after passing through the multiple filters of the universal translator, meant to accommodate for the multiple races, classes, species, and castes present in the court room. As the space courthouse settles from its stir, he adjusts his translator and podium back to a more natural position.

“Now, we are gathered here today to look over a very egregious case, involving the death of a member of theArcturian Royal --”

A massive uproar of hissing and sizzling arises from the far back of the room, as the iridescent forms of the Arcturians in attendance flair up in tandem with their voices, at the mere mention of their fallen prince.


Having once again worked up quite an ooze attempting to rally the space court into order, he once again readjusts his translator in addition to his noodly wig.

hhhrrrrmmm… just PLEASE bring out the defendant…”

At this time, the floor in front of the Justice’s cyber podium begins to host a dazzling light array, as seemingly out of nowhere a rather ragged looking man is produced, attired in a suit with an undone jacket coat, revealing a traditional/ceremonial garment of his culture. The Justice, gathers his thoughts, being processed through an already overtaxed non-bias engine, and proceeds.

“Space Cadet Jackson, do you have any opening remarks?”

The steel eyed cadet, who has seen his fair share of atrocity as well as purely awesome shit, raises his glance from the ground to meet his Judge’s septupled vision with his own two eyes.

“… could you… repeat that last thing?”


“Your belch… Your honor, I’m maybe a bit not sober, and most definitely hungover right now…”

The room nearly ignites, as the incendiary forms of the Arcturians once again blaze out of control at the sheer disrespect of the human cadet on trial. Their voices in turn, are now analogous to that of a relatively sizable group whose freaking prince had just been killed.

Cadet Jackson is afforded a glass of dihydrogen monoxide and accompanying space-advil by the robo-bailiff. After he downs both in a less than professional fashion, he blinks his eyes rapidly and for seemingly the first time since setting foot in the courthouse, becomes aware of his surroundings.

“The mustachioed bastard Sanchero… THIS IS A SETUP!! ”

The courtroom explodes again, as the Arcturians are joined by every other race, class, species, caste, and jackass present in shouting derisions, personal opinions, wants for justice, and potentially some sexual advances (the translations were a little unclear, okay?) at our dumbfounded hero.

The Justice and his steely bailiff wrangle the courtroom back into a less than unruly state, before proceeding.

“CADET JACKSON, it would now that you appear to be aware of your circumstances, do you care to explain you situation?”

“I mean… I doubt it’ll help, but hell, why not?”

The cadet produces a flask from his coat jacket, ungracefully downs its contents, then tosses it into the crowd before carrying on with his detailings.

“So, there I was: maybe the edge of the known universe, low on fuel, oxygen, hope, and that sick ass Arcturian Vodka. I didn--”

“Wait,” the bailiff halts him from proceeding, “did you say Arcturian Vodka?”

He exchanges a confused glance with the judge, who is unsure of how to process the information.

“You DO realize that Arcturians don’t make any forms of alcohol potable by humans, right?”

“Yeah, turns out it might’ve been our fuel supply, or something; I don’t know, I kinda forgot most of what that crisis responder said. And dude, next time? DON’T INTERUPT ME. Rude.”

The Arcturians initially vibrant forms had now waned to a lower intensity, as had their shrill vocals; potentially out of some form of alien pity for the man before them. The Justice’s non-bias engine is overclocking in an attempt to keep up with the sheer stupidity having to be dealt with.

“So what was I saying? Right: I didn’t know what to do, I’d shut off my communications and was low on oxygen because I was preparing to touch down on Bitch Planet -- “

“There is no Bitch Planet, cadet.”

The Justice’s voice is low and grainy, as he grows increasingly more distressed with the trial.

“Which is exactly what I told the crisis responder cause, let’s be honest, if you found a planet full of bitches, would you wanna to share?”

His candid words seemed to sway the courthouse in his favor, as the attendants seemed to sympathize themselves with his stance. The judge? Not so much.

“Just get on with it, cadet…”

“Oh, been meaning to correct your noodly ass on that; that’s Captain, to you. Captain Jackson. And here’s why: following the VERY violent mutiny that took place, I was the only one left aboard my ship, the XR003-Cock-Stallion. Anyways, after touching down on the face of Bitch Planet, I am instantly whisked away by a host of bitches as they in turn take my ship in for repairs. This process take about… 6, or 7 Earth months? I don’t know, I lost track of time because it was AWESOME.”

DISCLAIMER: What comes next is a very graphic depiction of Cadet Captain Jackson’s voyages upon Bitch Planet, which has been electively omitted because most of it doesn’t translate very well, and is kind of hard to comprehend unless you understand the basics of quantum-sexual reproduction.

“That’s… all good and well, Captain, but what actually happened?!?”

The judge is none too happy with his court’s paradigm shift resultant of Captain Jackson’s vile sexual encounters. Thenon-bias engine, is now approaching critical failure.

“Right! So, funny thing about Bitch Planet? It’s a quasi-dimensional leyline. Yep. For those of y’all present that don’t grasp the quantum physics as well as myself,” Jackson briefly pauses to down another glass of H2O and space-Advil, “it means that weird shit happens there, for the sake of weird shit happening there. Case in point? Cadet Sanchero. That wily bastard, turns out in an alternate timeline he kills my ass, and crash lands on Bitch Planet. His ship’s name is The Glorious Manticore though, which is freakin’ dumb because all Manticore’s do is sle---”


Needless to say, that the non-bias engine is no more at this point.

“Well, I really can’t if you KEEP INTERRUPTING ME. Here’s the Spark Notes for you sonsabitches: 4 months later. Sanchero and I are all dandy again, and combine the remainder of our parts into one awesome vessel we dub: The Glorious Manticock. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner!”

At this point the bailiff leans to the judge.

“Holy shit, this guy’s an idiot, your honor.”

“At this point in time, an Arcturian vessel lands on the face of the planet and lo and behold: It’s the prince himself, come to get his vibrantly shiny rocks off prior to being paired with his royal ball and chain. And man, that dude? He can party. That being said, our bachelor party lasted about a month (Human time), effectively ending his engagement. He wise kinda weird and depressed after that.”

“That sounds intense.” The robotic bailiff chimes in.

“It was. Very. So what do we consign to do to cheer him up? BACHELOR PARTY!! But it turns out, ole Princy… huh, I guess I never learned his name… well, ole Princy is tired of the female form at this point, so he proposes--”

“I am BEGGING YOU, Cadet Jac--”


“CAPITAL JACKASS JACKSON, to PLEASE consider your next words in a court house BREEMING with Arcturians.”

“…your honor?”

“Proceed, Jackson.”

“The Arcturian Royal, Formerly known as Princy, wanted to bang me, sir.”

The walls of the courthouse are now alit with flames, as the Arcturians are in an utter uproar over these allegations.