Darkness from Space

A ship of pure evil silently slid out of warp and aimed itself towards a small, insignificant third planet of a small, insignificant sun.

The craft slid through the atmosphere and aimed for its destination with a stealthy sleekness matched by few other ships in existence. The primitive sensors of the governments of this planet would never, could never find it.

Reaching the remote location, the craft slowed to a halt just a few feet above the terrain; with a malicious hiss, the landing struts dropped and settled into the ground.

Minutes passed.

Then with another evil hiss, a ramp dropped and dug into the ground. A shadowed silhouette appeared in the hatchway, paused for but a moment, then rolled forward down the ramp.

The contestant finally emerged into the light and showed itself. There was no body to speak of aside from a brain encased in a tank. Nutrients bubbled around the brain, sustaining the evil twisted mockery of a life of Dr. Nemonok.

His lord, the malevolent Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord had sent this one to do his bidding on this game show. Nemonok, normally very adept at understanding his overlord’s plans, could not discern the ultimate goal of his participation here. Nemonok did know, however, that this was the home planet of one of Galactor’s greatest enemies and was satisfied with the opportunity to sow his own brand of evil on this pitiful planet.

A man stepped forward and gave a curt bow.

“You must be Dr. Nemonok,” he said. “May I take your bags, sir?”

“Young man, does it appear that I have a need for a suitcase? Even a Naldarian bloodworm with only half of its brain synapses active could easily tell that I do not wear clothes.”

“Yes sir.”

“You may have been captain of your sports team during your school years, but you are clearly out of your element now. How do you think that you will ever win back the love of your sweetheart by hauling the bags of beings far superior to you when you can’t even get that right?”

“Of course, sir,” the porter hung his head.

“Now please, run ahead and tell your masters of my arrival.”

“Yes sir,” the man, though clearly crushed by the analysis, nodded smartly and then turned and sprinted to deliver the message.