Channing Frye 25 Points Full Highlights (11/27/2013)

The klaxons went off without warning, startling Channing out of his cryo-sleep. The computer’s voice, usually a pleasant female tone, now bellowed in the manner of a drill sergeant: “CODE ORANGE! CODE ORANGE! ALIENS ABOARD THE SHIP! ALL PERSONNEL TO REPORT TO CENTRAL BAY FOR INSTRUCTIONS! CODE ORANGE! CODE ORANGE!”

If Channing hadn’t already been awoken by the yelling, he would have woken up when his sleeping chamber opened with a hiss of compressed, hyper-chilled air. Scrambling to put on his mechsuit, he thought back to his family on Earth. It was strange; in that galaxy, the year was still 2014. But here in the Small Magellanic Cloud, it was 3985 by earthly measurements.

Commander Goran Dragic appeared in the door to his quarters, breathing heavily. “It’s bad man, it’s so bad. We’ve known about the Grypnians for a while now, we know all about their attitudes towards us chrono-explorers. But their armaments, Channing, oh my god!”

This was Channing’s first taste of alien interference, but Goran had seen a lot. It concerned him that his usually fearless commander was visibly shaken. “What are we talking about here? Plasma? Ion beams? Atomized photonic rays?”

“I don’t know man, it’s nothing I’ve seen before,” Goran responded, eyes darting up and down the hallway. “Hurry up and get your suit on. They’re already on the loading dock.”
Sweating and swearing, Channing melted another one of the armored Grypnians with his flamethrower. But it seemed that for every alien that he burnt to ash, two more materialized, attacking with renewed vigor. He barely dodged some kind of green destructo-beam from the pistol of an attacker, with the enemy laser slicing cleanly into the ductwork on the ceiling, causing a shower of sparks to pour down upon the combatants.

He suddenly felt something latch on to the back of his robotized mechsuit. With a powerful swing of his steel fist, he sent the alien flying into the smooth polycarbonate wall of the ship, splattering the pristine white surface with bright purple slime. Simultaneously, he could see Archie Goodwin, swarmed by four enemies, engage his laser cannon to blast them all away. Foul-smelling alien gore drenched Channing’s facemask. With a grimace, he cleared away the sludge and continued to make his way towards the loading dock.
Channing walked into the large round room to find many of his shipmates lying lifeless on the ground. Commander Dragic lay slumped against a side wall, eyes closed in obvious pain. But what was most distressing was the large robotoid Grypnian standing in the center of the arena-like area.

The repulsive creature began to speak in low, distorted rumbles. “Pitiful humans. No longer will your kind trespass upon our galaxy. Your destruction is at hand, and don’t worry about having to fight me; the advanced alloys which compose my armor are utterly impervious to your puny weapons. Say your final words, and I will end you as I have ended all the others.”

A whisper came from Goran’s mouth, barely audible. “Use the basketball. The basketball, Channing…” With his last tenuous connections to life being severed, Goran pushed a button on his suit. In his torso, a chamber opened. Out rolled a glowing blue basketball, pulsing with an unknown force.

Channing picked up the ball with his robo-hands and turned to address his foe. “Yeah, I’ve got some last words. Channing. Frye. For. THREE!” He lobbed the basketball in a perfect jumpshot towards a previously-unseen basketball hoop. Both alien and human watched as the ball sailed in a perfect arc, finally swishing through the net.

Nothing happened. Channing was confused. The three-pointer was supposed to be the death blow. As Channing’s mind whirred, the Grypnian’s face relaxed, and he laughed. “Your foot was on the line.”

And suddenly, the entire ship exploded.

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