Meanwhile, somewhere in the skies above Antarctica…
The Daemon-Shihtz corvette Scarlet Incisor was fragmenting and falling to pieces as it burned across the stratosphere. Unfortunately, the stern of the disintegrating ship was intact long enough for a sufficient number of Daemon-Shihtz and Mingers, trapped in the stern, to make their way to the teleportation room which was also, unfortunately, located in the stern.
It was unheard of for Mingers to be allied with the Daemon-Shihtz, let alone Mingers to be onboard a Daemon-Shihtz vessel. However, with the destruction of the Minger frigate, survivors were forced to teleport to the Scarlet Incisor. The captain of the Scarlet Incisor, obviously a Milkoo, was the only captain to allow such an event to take place.
The captains of the other corvettes had violently refused. As a consequence of defying the hive mind and taking such offensive and drastic action, the disgraced captain agreed to commit suicide on the bridge. He promptly tore off and swallowed his own left arm. Moments later, the captain dropped dead and was rapidly replaced by a new Milkoo captain, which grew from the swallowed arm, consuming from the inside out, the biomass of the original captain.
This of course, occurred several minutes beforehand and since then, the replacement captain had long since perished with the bridge crew, when the Scarlet Incisor began to break up over the skies above Antarctica.
In the teleportation room, Mingers screeched at Daemon-Shihtz while the Daemon-Shihtz hissed and growled at the Mingers. They absolutely hated the sight of each other and nothing would give either race more pleasure than to kill the other. Well, there was something that would give each race more pleasure…
In fact, it was the reason they were all here, in the teleportation room, armed with an assortment of mega-damage-capacity beam weapons. Beyond their beam weapons, the Daemon-Shihtz had their claws and vibrating jaws, jaws like chainsaws.
The Mingers had their long and obsidian black poisonous talons and protruding bone spurs. These spurs ran down their spines, knees, shins and each of their six elbows and forearms. Each spur was capable of firing like a throwing dagger, from their pungent and slimy, green grey skin.
Either race was more than capable of killing the other. If they chose to follow their instincts and fight, the teleportation room would be showered in bright blue and snot green blood. However, what kept their urges at bay, was the pleasure of killing and eating, every last Primordial Earth human who cowered in the Federation outpost below the surface. They were united in their bloodlust for the flesh of Primordial Earth humans. After all, they were such deliciously plump, succulent and helpless creatures.
Of course, this bloodlust for Primordial Earth humans paled in comparison for their bloodlust and hatred for the Semi-Aquatic Guinea Pigs. Both races were furious that the Minger frigate was destroyed before it was able to launch a tungsten steel rod from its relativistic rail gun. If the frigate had managed to fire the rod, the first 60 mating pairs of Semi-Aquatic Guinea Pigs would have perished. The subsequent kinetic explosion would have decimated the biosphere of Primordial Earth.
The Daemon-Shihtz preferred this. According to timeline simulations performed by the Milkoo hive mind, which interconnected every Milkoo brain to each other via telepathic quantum entanglement, premature collapse of Primordial Earth's biosphere would hyper jump human advances in genetic engineering. This was predicted to occur as the humans tried in vain to restore their planet's biodiversity.
This was calculated to bring about, centuries earlier, the creation of the 12 Arm Lines of the Daemon-Shihtz race. Free from the eternal purge they faced at the hands of the Intergalactic Federation of Semi-Aquatic Guinea Pigs, the Daemon-Shihtz would finally be able to exercise their predatory bloodlust beyond the solar system, the entire galaxy, throughout the Blokesverse and beyond.
As for the Mingers, they just wanted the Federation of Semi-Aquatic Guinea Pigs gone, dead and buried in the sands of time. They also wanted Primordial Earth as a new horde world. This was something the Daemon-Shihtz would never tolerate. It would mean war, total war. The Mingers knew this and kept their grander plan a secret. Besides, if Primordial Earth was overrun with Mingers and the Primordial Earth humans became extinct, well, they would enjoy the paradox of creating themselves.
No longer would they loathe their origins as mere bioweapons, engineered by the Terran Conglomerate to eradicate the Mars Confederacy. Besides, if the Mingers wiped out Primordial Earth humanity, no human descendants would leave Earth to colonise the moons of Jupiter. No foundation of the Jovian Proxy and no Jovian Proxy to engineer the Daemon Shihtz. For the Mingers, this was palatable, no Daemon-Shihtz to compete with when preying upon worlds.
Just before the hull breached shooting hot plasma into the stern, the teleportation room beamed several hundred Mingers and Daemon-Shihtz into the Primordial Protectorate's HQ, located several kilometres below the ice sheet and bedrock. There was no other way into HQ other than via teleportation. There was also no form of escape other than from the teleportation rooms of which there were four.
Straight off the bat, four Daemon-Shihtz suicide bombers teleported directly into each teleportation room. The bombers roared 'DAEMON-SHIHTZ RULE!' while fist pumping with their left arms, before triggering their thermo mini nuke suicide vests, destroying the teleportation rooms.
There was now, no way in or out of HQ, unless of course, one was in possession of a portable teleportation device. The HQ and everyone inside, was cut off from the outside world. Locked inside with several hundred Mingers and Daemon-Shihtz, split up into kill teams consisting of 6-8 individuals.
To liken what happened next to unleashing a Sharknado into a childcare centre, was a gross understatement. It was more like marching lambs off of a plank and into a giant blender. Better still, it was like shooting lemmings out of a cannon and into a wood chipper. Nope, this still didn't give the massacre justice. Rather, it was more like a herd of flat earthers, attempting to press their point of view to a class of year 7, mediocre science students.
Just like the flat earthers, the Protectorate personnel had no chance. However, just like the flat earthers, the Protectorate personnel were in complete denial. In most of their minds, there was absolutely no way they were going to allow this joint alien incursion to take over Protectorate HQ. The very future of the vast family tree of the Commonwealth of Human Posterity was at stake. Millions of years of future history was in jeopardy of being erased from the timeline.
Where was the Federation? Almost all of the Protectorate personnel would ask. Why did Earth's orbital sentry system fail? Why hasn't a Federation warship arrived to put a stop to this incursion? Neither the Daemon-Shihtz or the Mingers could stand a chance against just a handful of Semi-Aquatic Guinea Pigs, piloting their supremely high tech battlebots.
But of course, there was the launch. One of the most sacred events in the one-billion-year history of the Semi-Aquatic Guinea Pig race. The entire solar system was restricted as a no-fly zone for this event. Not even a radio signal could leave or penetrate the system. Perhaps, they simply didn't know?
However, and here was the gut dropping question … how in the name of his Fuggliness, had the Daemon-Shihtz and Mingers broke into the solar system in the first place? This rattled the Protectorate personnel more than anything, more than the prospect of their certain deaths. Was the Federation of Semi-Aquatic Guinea Pigs truly infallible? But there was no more time to question who, what, where and why? Only 'when' mattered now. And right now, hundreds of blood lusting alien monsters were beaming into Protectorate HQ.
Before the teleportation rooms were destroyed, the Protectorate SI indiscriminately beamed in every available agent. However, the SI held off on beaming in Vice-Commandant Waterloo, along with 50 administrative personnel. The SI chose instead to beam them to a Protectorate safe house. It was a farmstead near Cunningham's Gap, south west of Brisbane. Some fragmented bureaucracy of the Protectorate had to survive in the more than certain event that Protectorate HQ fell to this joint alien incursion.
The SI also broke the parameters of its programming and chose to beam in all versions of former agents who were long since retired from service . All except two, who were considered too stupid, reckless and incompetent to find their own bum cheeks using both hands in a well-lit room (and with mirrors) let alone defend Protectorate HQ from a joint alien incursion.
The SI decided to listen to Dumb Things by Paul Kelly as it dedicated several of its trillions upon trillions of quark quantum neural networks on reviewing the obscene tragedy which was their employment records. The SI neural networks dedicated to this task were disgusted, shocked and dismayed at the sheer chaos and mayhem that these two former field agents caused in their service to the Protectorate.
Although they had always, somehow, his Holly Fuggliness only knows how, somehow beyond comprehension, sheer luck perhaps, somehow had always achieved success with most of their missions. However, the financial damages these two former agents inflicted, ran into immeasurable quintillions.
The list of damages and accompanying class action law suits was quite extensive. In fact, on no less than 122 separate occasions, the Protectorate had to go back in time and reverse the damage caused by this duo of dunces, and thereby closing off the altered timelines from the greater pan cosmos.
Such events amongst so many others, included driving the Moon into the Space Hubble Telescope that had been infected with a computer virus, unleashing onto the streets of a heavily populated city, a horde of randy brontosauruses during the height of their mating season, orchestrating a coup d'etat that installed Mötley Crüe as the ruling oligarchy of a rogue state, accidently triggering the super volcano beneath Yellowstone by lighting a grizzly bear's fart with a cigarette lighter, accidentally triggering World War 3 by retrofitting a Kombi with gravity thrusters and taking it for a joyride – which NORAD mistook as a nuclear launch, stealing Michael Bay's script for a new Transformers film, wrapping it in a fake cover with the title 101 Reasons Why Disney Star Wars Sucks Balls by Michael Bay and mailing it to the Jedi Church, who upon receiving it, promptly put a nerdwa on Michael Bay, gate crashing the first ever meeting of the Jedi Church dressed as Darth Vader and assaulting the members of the conjugation with plastic light sabres, trying to break into a Metallica concert, starting a hardcore pub brawl at an Oktoberfest in Salzburg, instigating more than a hundred other brawls in pubs and beer tents at festivals across the timeline, chucking a series of sickies to attend several Def Leppard concerts, deliberately triggering the sun to go supernova in order to wipe out a zombie plague on a remote and uninhabited tropical island, so on and so forth, ad infinitum.
The list was actually ongoing and exhaustive, too much so that even for an advanced quark quantum computational technology such as the Protectorate SI, it was just too much to peruse and review without losing all hope for a brighter day and choosing to end its existence by setting its circuit boards on fire.
Worst of all was the occasion when one of these agents became so intoxicated at a staff Christmas Party, that while wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts and a Santa's cap, he stumbled into the mainframe processing room, barefoot mind you and mistook a processing block for a urinal!
To make matters more intolerable, two active duty versions of the other agent, were on a mission which could not be interrupted. Meanwhile, the dishonourably discharged version of the agent who urinated on the SI processing block, was enjoying his retirement in a reptile/dinosaur park in the late Cretaceous and for the cherry on top, was suspected of smuggling an illegal alien through Earth's quarantine in a duffle bag!
The SI was so appalled by the conduct of these two agents, that it was actually about to issue a burn notice, along with an order to liquidate the retired versions of these two smears of stupidity from existence. The SI searched back further, attempting to look into the origins of these two agents … but there was nothing. Only a folder with the name Project Romulus and Remus.
To the SI's surprise, it could not view the contents of the folder! It didn't have access as it was locked with black quark quantum encryption! The SI calculated the estimated time required to crack the encryption … 3.76 trillion years, seven months, five days, 19 hours, 57 minutes and 22.03512 seconds!
Dammit! All it could do at this point in time was attempt to execute the burn notices. There simply weren't enough agents to spare to issue an order to liquidate them. However, before it could execute the burn notices, the SI abruptly went offline and was promptly flushed down the sewer pipe of destruction and into the abyss of oblivion.
It was so consumed with rage over the stupidity of the two former agents, that it failed to notice the Daemon-Shihtz kill squad that kicked down the door to the SI central processing room before shooting up the place. This included the processing module that still carried a brown-yellow stain from that fateful Christmas staff party of 2037.