[Well I had to find something to do while RK1 was down ....]

Attention citizens of Rubi Ka.

The following intelligence information on Kyr'Ozch battle tactics was gathered from extensive painstaking surveillance work by the finest minds Clan Assembly has to offer. Well mind, really. Originally intended for Assembly eyes only, the leadership have suggested that it should be made available to a wider audience. I hope it proves useful to all who seek to defend our planet from these ruthless invaders.

Scene 1

Command centre in the Interior of Kyr'Ozch battle cruiser. Serious-looking female Kyr'Ozch in ... whatever they have instead of military uniforms with their ... whatever they have instead of hair tied back tightly push miniature pieces round a large scale map of Rubi Ka in the centre of the room. Various other aliens rush around busily, some with clipboards.

Dramatic music: insistent military rhythm on snare drum; martial tune on two french horns punctuated by regular perfect cadences on strings and rest of brass. In E minor.

Camera pans across this hive of activity, before coming to rest on the Fleet Commander, who is in conference with his Chief of Intelligence and a swotty junior Ensign who is on the recently instituted Kyr’Ozch promotion graduate fast-track scheme.

Chief of Intelligence: That’s just what I don’t understand, sir. We have reason to believe that this planet is populated by several thousand people, but somehow we cannot pick up any trace of where their cities lie.

Ensign: If I might suggest, sir, perhaps we could make a landing in an obviously uninhabited and undefended part of the planet, then set up a forward operations base, dig some fortifications, make reconnaissance sorties into the surrounding areas, perhaps take a few prisoners for interrogations, get a good knowledge of the local area and call for back up from other systems, then launch a well-coordinated strike with overwhelming force.

Fleet Commander (who is an old-school made-his-way-up-slowly-through-the-ranks type who doesn’t take kindly to young whippersnappers straight out of the academy and their fancy new ideas on invasion tactics.) No. No, Jack we’ll do this buy the book. We’ll simply orbit round and round the planet doing nothing, and hope that … for some reason … we suddenly become aware of the location of one of the cities. Then we’ll attack using the time-honoured Kyr’Ozch strategy.

Ensign: But sir I really-

Fleet Commander (becoming irritated and stroking his … whatever they have instead of huge moustaches): I think that’s enough from you, Ensign.

Ensign (reluctantly): Yes, sir.

suddenly another Ensign – one with a clipboard – rushes up

Ensign #2: Sir! Sir! Our scanners have suddenly picked up evidence of a city! I can’t think how we didn’t see it before, but there it is!

Fleet Commander: Aha! Excellent. Knew this would happen in the end. (Turning to chief intelligence officer) Alright, Bob, see if this city is guarded, will you, and get some information on defences if it is.

Chief of Intelligence: Right away, sir!

Scene 2

Location is as above

Music: snare is still going, as are the brass cadences, but the melody has been replaced by a gradually ascending quaver sequence in the low strings, suggesting a gradual building of tension.

The Fleet Commander has been joined by his General in charge of landing operations. The swotty ensign is still present, trying to look important.

Enter Chief of Intelligence stage right

Chief of Intelligence: Sir! I have a report on the city defences!

Fleet Commander: Excellent, Bob, let’s hear it.

Chief of Intelligence: You won’t believe this, sir, but there are only six of the humanoids defending their entire city! I thought it incredible at first, but I’ve double checked and our boys are sure there are only six defenders between us and our first re-conquest of a major target on Rubi-Ka.

Ensign: Well, that’s excellent news, sir! Why, even without calling for backup we have approximately 120 fully-armoured scouts, guards and commandos ready to land. Now I’ve been thinking about feasible ground assault strategies, and if I might suggest, sir: a main shock assault force of about 50, armed with swords, hammers and axes should assault the centre, while two flanking squads of 10 each pound the humanoids from the side with carbines, machine guns and grenade launchers. 5 sharpshooters armed with rifles should look to take out the one known as a doctor, and our Hackers can blast the area with their nukes. That still leaves us 40 or so in reserve for contingencies. The six humanoids will not stand a chance.

Fleet Commander (not looking convinced): You think we should actually tell our boys to use the weapons they’re carrying? Well I must say that’s highly irregular, but then I’m not an infantry man myself. What do you think, Jeff?

General (who has been studying the intelligence report all this time and not paying much attention): Oh, no, quite out of the question. Actually use the weapons?! Good God, whatever next? No, young man, and your plan is all wrong too. But … (glancing at the intelligence report once again) let me get this straight, Bob, you say there are 6 of them defending this city?

Chief of Intelligence: So our scans indicate, sir.

General: Right. And all of them are actually residents of the city?

Chief of Intelligence: Actually, no sir. It seems that only one of the humanoids actually has any attachment to this city – we think the others may be mercenaries brought in from outside to boost defences.

General: Hmmm … no, you know, I think the other 5 are just there by coincidence. I don’t think they’ve anything to do with the defence of the city at all. We should plan our attack expecting resistance only from that 1 chap.

Chief of Intelligence: With respect sir, we have very good reason to think they are a co-ordinated defence squad. They’re communicating together on private channels, using friendly nano-programmes on each other: they’re clearly working as a team.

General: No, no, you’re quite wrong. Those other 5 are … lost, they’re just asking for directions or something. I don’t think we need to worry about them at all.

Ensign (looking horrified): But sir it’s absolutely clear that they-

Fleet Commander: That’s enough from you, Jack. I think Jeff knows what he’s talking about.

General (chuckling genially): I should think so! Right, I’ll have 100 of our ground assault force put back into hibernation, I think we’ll only need 15 or 20 of us for this.

Scene 3

The beaming down room in the Kyr’Ozch battle cruiser. The general is surrounded by a couple of dozen ground assault troops. Some are carrying their lucky clumps of biomaterial or the atomic re-structuralizing tools they’ve been sent from loving relatives back home, a few of the more senior ones have weapons which they clearly have no intention of using. The graduate trainee ensign is operating the beaming down machine.

The music has reached its climax, full orchestra playing apocalyptic battle music.

General: Right, everyone ready?

Troops: Sir, yes Sir!

General: Excellent! Nigel, Ian, off you go.

The ensign watches, incredulous, as just two of the ground troops hop into the transporter beam and are whisked down to the surface of the planet. The others remain exactly where they are, watching stoically on a vid-screen as their comrades get zapped in 8 seconds flat

General: Hmmm. Shame. Good lads, those. Ok Freddy, Oscar. You two are up next.

The same inevitable pattern is repeated

General: Dear me. I knew Freddy’s uncle, you know, we were at school together. (Shaking his … sort of head thing) Tragic waste of a young life full of promise, that. Ho hum. Paul, Timmy, off you go.

Two by two, the entire landing party is wiped out, until it’s just the General and the annoying Ensign left.

General: Hmm. Yes. Well, looks like I might have to take care of this myself.

He heads for the door, before stopping and patting … whatever they have instead of pockets.

General: Oh, wait, I nearly forgot my lunch. My wife’s just sent over a batch of her best bio-material DNA soup. Oh, and hand me a com relay, a tissue sample and a couple of swatches of fabric would you? Don’t want to go into battle without those.

He blithely descends to his doom.

Scene 4

A dark, smoky attic room right at the top of the Kyr'Ozch Battle Cruiser. The leading Kyr'Ozch officers: Brigadier-General, Captain, Channeler, First Lieutenant, Fleet Admiral and others are all seated round a circular table, concentrating intently.

First Lieutenant: Check.
Captain: Check.
Second Lieutenant: Check.
Channeler: 1000.

The camera tilts and zooms slightly, to reveal that these officers are not, in fact, confirming battle plans for the last-ditch defence of the ship, but are in fact playing a card game which looks remarkably similar to poker.

Brigadier General: I'm out. (He tosses his cards into the centre of the table)
Admiral: I'll see your 1000, and raise you 2000.
First Lieutenant. Hmm ... not this time. (He also folds).

The other officers, except the Channeler, sigh and follow the First Lieutenant in bowing out.

Channeler: Hmmm. (He inhales deeply from ... whatever they have instead of a massive Cuban cigar). Alright. Your 2000 and ... (he counts out a pile of chips) ... 5000 more. (He slides the chips forward, studying the Admiral intently.)

The Admiral meets the Channeler's gaze and drums his talony-claw things on the table.

Admiral: 5000 eh? Well now. 5000. That's a lot of Hyr'Ghri. (7 of his eyes flit down to his cards, the other 6 remain fixed on the Channeler.) Even so I'm g-

He is interrupted by the breathless entry of the Ensign from earlier, who bursts suddenly onto the scene

Ensign: Sir! Sir! The humanoids have boarded the ship! They've picked off our defence patrols one by one, ascended to the cockpit and killed the Pilot! They're now resting in an alcove to the North, if we attack with all our remaining forces now we may j-
Admiral: (Furious) For Gtri'Rhgt's sake, Jack, we're in the middle of a damned Pok'Ur game here! Can't you see this is important!?! There's 20000 Hyr'Ghri at stake here!
Ensign: (Baffled) But ... I ... the ship is ... we're under attack, sir!
Admiral: Oh, tish and pish to your attack. How many times do I have to remind you? This room is completely impenetrable to humanoid attacks. There's absolutely no way they could possibly get here. We're perfectly safe as long as we stay in this room. Now for Gtri'Rhgt's sake stop fretting.

The speechless Ensign slumps miserably on a chair in the corner

Admiral: Now then. Where was I? Ah yes. (He smiles, slowly.) I'll see your 5000.

The Channeler's smile flickers just for an instant

Channeler: A Flooge, Plop high.

The Admiral laughs

Admiral: Ha! I have a Full Wap, Neeps and Grebs.

He reaches forward and claims the chips

Admiral: Excellent, excellent!

Counting his substantial pile of chips with 3 legs, he reaches behind him for something with 2 of his other appendages, but cannot seem to find what he's looking for. He turns round, and frowns.

Admiral: Damn, looks like we're out of Jix'Tanu. And I'm going to need a few more drinks if you fellows are to have any chance, eh?!

He guffaws jovially, the others - except the Channeler - chuckle sycophantically.

Admiral (to the Second Lieutenant): Earl, could you nip down and get some more? There's a fridge in the cockpit, should be another crate in there. Take a few Ensigns with you to help you carry the thing back up.

The graduate-trainee Ensign leaps up and is about to remind the Admiral about the attack but is silenced by a withering glance. The Second Lieutenant rises, motions to several of the junior officers to follow him, and heads to the teleporter.

Admiral: Your deal I think, Kevin.

The Brigadier General picks up the cards and begins to shuffle them. A shriek followed by a burst of gunfire can be heard far off. The officers, with the exception of the Ensign in the corner, who begins weeping, remain completely impassive

Admiral (noticing the Ensign crying in the corner): Jack, Jack, there's no need to fret. As I said, we're perfectly safe in here. The atmosphere is completely toxic to carbon-based life forms, there's absolutely no way the humanoids can get us here. We'll just sit tight; eventually they'll have to leave. (He picks up the cards the Brigadier General has dealt him and glances at the table). Come on, someone's missing an ante.
Captain: Sorry, sorry (he flicks a chip into the middle of the table).
Admiral: Right. 200.
Channeler: 200, and raise 100 more.
Captain: That's 300 to me.
First Lieutenant: Fold.
Admiral: I'll see your 100.

The Brigadier General deals another card to each of the remaining players

Admiral: Now where can Earl have got to? I need a drink! (He chuckles, and turns to the First Lieutenant) Martin, since you've folded, could you go and see what's happened to Earl?

The First Lieutenant rises and, accompanied by four more junior officers, marches over to the teleporter

Admiral: Check.
Channeler: Check.
Captain: 1000.

Another distant shriek, another burst of gunfire

Admiral (frowning): No. (He folds)
Channeler: That one's yours, Simon.

The Captain collects his chips

Admiral (now quite cross): Now where the Jyr'Zogh is Martin with my crate of Jix'Tanu?! Simon, could you go and check on the progress with the drinks? Honestly, at this rate, I'll end up having to get the damned stuff myself ...

[With apologies to Magic Pony, of which this is a flagrant rip-off/pale imitation, depending on whether you like it or not.]