We had picked up the game Alternity, decided to give it a try so we don't burn ourselves out playing the Legend of the 5 Rings RPG. I ran the quickstart adventure that comes in one of the books, it went okay, then I ran another one I downloaded from TSR's web page...things started to get funky here.

      While my character stayed on our ship (me and another guy, George, alternate Storytelling, so his or my character is always left behind :( ), the rest went to a space station. One of the players, a Weren with a heavy machine gun was making a habit of shooting this monstrosity in the small space station, tearing large holes in the hull. I made a point that this was not a good idea. But he kept using it, and in the end accidently blew up something they needed later on. So, they all ended up contaminated with this virus that was on the space station. Not that they knew that for sure. So, after that debacle, I told them I'd run another story and I'd prove a point: once something goes wrong they will steamroll it into something HUGE, no matter how trivial the job. They didn't believe me, and this is what resulted, I'm not making this up, and I didn't railroad them, I just put their feet on the path. They're the ones that ran down it.

      If anyone has anything to say on this topic (or any other topic for that matter), please EMail Me At: blayne81atcomcastdotnet

      The infected players escape the space station just before it blows up and it is here that we pick up our tale...

      Croaker sat in his copilots seat on his ship the Crimson Glory, his arm folded to make a nice right triangle, resting his head in his hand, and tapping a pencil on the console with his other hand. I'm boredboredboredboredbored. He always gets left behind when there's exciting things to do. Everyone else was out exploring the space station and he was here playing with his pencil.

      He watched as the shuttle disengaged from the space station and raced away from it at top speed. Then, suddenly, it stopped, about halfway between the station and the Crimson Glory. He stared at the shuttle wondering What the...? There was a pause, a long pause, long enough to worry him. Then the space station detonated. The little shuttle bobbed in the shock wave, but seemed to sustain no real damage.

      The comm chirped. He snatched up the headset, not bothering to put it on, pressing one ear piece to his head and twisting the mike to his mouth. "Yes?"

      "Captain!" it was Blade, one of the Mechalus' (Mechalai?), he sounded frantic. An odd state for a part man/part machine. "Open the bay doo..." He made a strangled noise, and there was a roar, and lots of shouting. It sounded like there was a zoo full of wild animals having an argument inside the shuttle. He stared out the window at the shuttle, his mind racing. Maybe something got onto the shuttle with them? Though the shuttle’s barely big enough for the away party, never mind a raging beast...

      Then things got loud.

Meanwhile, on the shuttle...

      The Weren had his hands wrapped around Blades throat. He said it was an ancient form of Weren submission hold; to Xak it looked like he was trying to pinch Blade’s head off. He shrugged his little lizard shoulders, what did he know of Weren submission holds? Holista Xak, being a tiny little Tsaa, had the perfect vantage point, sitting on the Weren's shoulder, to see just what a Weren can do to someone when properly motivated.

      Blade was turning an odd shade of grey, futilely trying to remove the thick shaggy fingers that were making it difficult to breathe and see (things were getting kinda red). The pilot was hopping up and down in the background shouting something Blade couldn't make out, and there was an odd freight train noise in his ears. He pulled back his hand and twin blades popped out of the back of his wrist. He gave the Weren an uppercut that was meant to disembowel him. The Weren threw Blade from him and the knives missed skin but did shave a giant bald streak up the Weren's front. That was when he grabbed his HMG and leveled it at the Mechalus.

      "STOP!" Shouted the pilot. The only human on the shuttle. "We can't go back. We're probably infected too. And our only doctor is probably also infected." He pointed to the doctor lying in a semi-unconscious "self-medicated" state in the back of the shuttle. "We have no hope of getting anything done in here if you keep this up. We don't have any idea what we're infected with or how to stop it. We can't risk infecting the captain or our ship until we get a handle on this."

      Blade and the Weren looked at the Pilot. And then looked back at each other. And...

...Back to the Crimson Glory...

      The roar of a heavy weapon came out of the headset. Croaker dropped the headset and watched in horror as the shuttle was shot to pieces from the inside, a stitch of bullet holes running along the side facing him. He could see crystallized particles of water and air rocket out into space. The front windscreen of the shuttle blew out and the shuttle detonated.

      Croaker could do nothing but stare in horror as this all unfolded before him.

One Month Later...

      Croaker needed a new crew. The one he had currently consisted of himself and the monkey spider the Weren used to own. Not that the monkey spider wasn't a good deck hand or anything, it was just that he left web everywhere, it was getting kinda spooky looking in there. So Croaker headed down to the bar of the station he was docked at to see what he could see. He walked through the door of the joint and stopped dead in his tracks. There before him was a table full of prospective crew hands, BUT, as he looked at them, an awful realization struck him. They were the exact same mix of races that his last crew was. Two Mechalus', a Weren, a Tsaa, one of those funky flying Fraal, and one of those flying lizard types he could never remember what they were - Sashayans maybe -- a token human, and a monkeyspider. This is too much of a coincidence. Despite his better judgement, he went over introduced himself and talked shop talk with the lot of them. An agreement was reached, he gave them docking bay info and said he'd meet them all there.

A short while later...

      The various lifeforms assembled at the docking bay, each finding someplace to get comfortable outside, while they waited for Croaker to explain what their various duties and berthing assignments onboard would be. Croaker came out of the Crimson Glory a short while later to address them.

      "Okay people, before we get into the assignments, I have a little job I want you to perform for me before I let you on my ship."

      There were mumbles from the assembled crew.

      Croaker waved his hands, "Easy folks, nothing too strenuous on your first day, I promise. Here, take this." He held out a small datapad. One of the Mechalus' took the datapad -- his name was Mark if Croaker remembered correctly -- as the others crowded around to look at what it displayed. "Bring back everything on this list. I'll go over this once for you guys then you're on your own. I want you to go down the causeway here ‘til you get to the grocery store. I want you all to go in there and bring me 1 gallon of 2% milk. 4 tomatoes which must be unbruised when you get them back here. A package of 4 sticks of butter. And some apples, also unbruised when you get back here. Seem fairly straightforward? Good. Now, there are some rules to this.

      Rule number one: You all leave, and come back together.

      Rule number two: No arrests. No injuries. No fatalities. You are going shopping, not storming an embassy, there are no reasons for any of these to happen.

      Rule number three: You have one hour, get cracking." He turned and went back inside the ship.

      Needless to say, they weren't pleased with their first assignment. What did he think they were? Amateurs?

      With some grumbles they headed off to Quickie Mart. Jim the Weren, Tara the Fraal, George the Sashayan, Mark the Mechalus, Ray the Human, John the Tsaa, and Doyle the Mechalus all arrived at the store as a mob and entered with a minimum of fuss. Mark the Mechalus got into a checkout line for when the others returned with their items. The others each went to get their assigned item.

      George the Lizard flew down the aisle, his little wings beating madly. He retrieved the carton of milk with the light blue cap, verified that the label said 2% and headed back for the register. He alighted next to Mark, Mark nodded. "One item, successfully retrieved."

      John the Tsaa raced down the aisle to the butter section and got himself a box of butter, paused for a second deciding whether or not to get the margarine (it was on sale), decided that the list said butter, so he'd better bring back butter. He headed back to the checkout.

      Tara and Jim (and the monkeyspider) went to get tomatoes. Once they arrived in the fruits and veggies aisle they stopped, confused. Both being non-human, neither had any idea what was what, so they asked a clerk to help them out. Tara held out the bag and the clerk started picking out tomatoes. As he casually tossed the first one into the bag, Tara pulled the bag back, and the tomato struck the floor (Can you feel it in the air? It's starting). She held the bag back out and smiled at the clerk. He looked at her suspiciously, and tried to drop another one into the bag, she pulled it away again.

      The clerk frowned. "Ma'am?" he asked confused.

      "They are not to be bruised. The captain stated so in his orders" She explained. The Weren nodded in agreement. The clerk did a slow nod. "Ah, okay" With exaggerated slowness, he placed the first of the 4 tomatoes in the bag.

      Further down the aisle, Ray the Human, looked at the selection of apples, trying to recollect if he was supposed to get a certain type and how many. 'Some apples' wasn't too specific. He grabbed a bag of about 24 macintoshes. Satisfied he turned to head for the register.

      Tara and Jim (and the monkeyspider), along with their 4 unbruised tomatoes, headed for the register. Behind them the clerk shook his head, and knelt down to clean up the smashed tomato.

      Meanwhile, Doyle the Mechalus had nothing to get, so he prowled the aisles like a hungry shark, menacing little old ladies and children, until he too arrived in the fruit and veggies aisle. He brushed passed Ray and headed down the aisle where he saw the clerk kneeling down doing something. Doyle marched down and loomed over the clerk. The clerk looked up from cleaning, "Yes? Can I help you?"

      Doyle compared the clerk to his internal database of known felons. No matches. Hmph. That didn't mean that the boy wasn't a felon, it just that he wasn't in Doyle’s database. It had been a while since he updated it. He frowned, caught in some weird kind of Mechali logic loop. It was then he noticed the red stain on the floor the clerk had been cleaning up. Something here wasn't right.

      Ray saw Doyle hovering over the clerk. Oh shit. He raced down the aisle. The clerk stood up. Doyle turned as Ray hurtled down he aisle.

      "Here kid" Ray skidded to a halt near the pair. He slapped a fiver in the kids hand, "Get out of here. Forget you saw anything."

      Doyles eyes narrowed. A thought was forming. His eyes flicked between Ray, the clerk, and the payoff, taking it all in. He glared at them in reverse order: the payoff, the clerk, and then Ray. He repeated this a few times, as his mighty mechanical brain churned away, adding 2 + 2. The clerk saw the look on the Mechalus' face and realized he thought this wacko with the fruit was bribing him. He urgently waved the five at Ray "Dude, take it back!” To the Mechalus he said "I've never seen this guy before in my life. I swear.” A note of fear started to creep into his voice (Listen. Do you hear something?).

      Tara stopped as the clerk’s fearful voice reached them. Jim paused when she stopped, looking over his shoulder. He saw what was happening and charged down the aisle at Doyle.

      Somewhere inside Doyle’s digital brain the clicking and the whirring stopped. The scent of fear was thick in the air, and he could sense it. Enough thought, time for action. He drew back his hand for an overhand right, twin blades popped out of the back of his forearm with an ominous "snikt" (I know, I know, its a trademarked sound, but what else explains it so well?). The clerks eyes went wide. He piddled himself.

      Tara fired a mental blast at the Mechalus, which caused him to pause a moment. A look of fury took over his features, the little beggar tried to fry my brain!, he thought. He grabbed the clerk by the shoulder with his un-bladed hand pulling him forward as he drove the knives forward. "Die flesh thing!"

      Ray swung the bag of apples with all his might.

      The blades punched through the front of the clerk’s skull, spearing deep into his brain.

      The bag of apples detonated when they struck the back of Doyle’s head. A shotgun blast of fruit pelted everyone in the aisle.

      Jim got a hold of the Mechalus by the shoulders, and gave a flip of his wrists, snapping Doyle like a towel. Doyle flew out of Jim’s hands, "Whoops", trailing the attached, dead clerk, and crashed into display for boxes of cheezy poofs. Apples rolled along on the floor. The monkey spider used its plethora of arms to gather up as many as it could, taking a single bite out of each one.

      A single apple rolled over to where Mark was, where it bumped gently against his foot, spinning lazily. Mark looked down at the apple. The representation of his life. Red and bruised, and unwanted because of that. Mark, sadly, left the store and went back to the ship, picked up his gear, paused for a moment as he looked at Croaker. Mark hung his head and walked off into the Space Stations corridors.