Project Boussh: Worst Hangover Ever by Brad Corletti A throbbing. The world shifted, changed. Brad stood upon a rock, his rifle resting against his side, the desert winds blowing his cloak. Dune upon dune crested in the distance. The men behind him stirred as he lowered his binoculars. "They're out there," was all he said. Resolve warred with anxiety on their faces. They were going into battle. It was a feeling few understood. Men began the final chekcs of their weapons, ensuring that the magazines were seated and rounds were chambered. And now the enemy were visible with the naked eye. The hideous formed flowed from dune to dune like a brown sea, and even now their warcries could be heard. His men took up firing positions. They were hideously outnumbered. "Single, aimed shots!" Brad yelled as he began checking his own weapon. "Conserve your ammo!" With only thirty rounds in each magazine, his teams' weapons weren't well suited for large-scale suppression. Shots rang out as his team began firing. The tide kept coming, and the rate of fire increased. The team's machine gun stuttered out a heavy roar, cutting a swathe through the enemy, but the survivors merely clawed over the fallen. They were too many! Just too many! The first of the enemy reached his front lines. The furred creatures swarmed over his men, kicking, biting and screaming. Brad drew his scimitar and lashed out at the approaching creatures. Too many! Too many Furbies! They could not be stopped! A throbbing. The world shifted, changed. Brad floated through space, stars whirling around him. A grave, whispering voice spoke. "The universe is a vast entity, filled with light and life. However, even the mightiest of entities are affected by the smallest of details." One of the stars brightened and approached him. Or was he approaching it? Brad spun at an insane speed towards one of the planets, and easily recognised it as Earth. He settled facing the dark side of its moon. The smoke from the destroyed base still emerged, at least here. "The lives of these people are forever lost. All that they would do is now nothing. The lives of many more people will be made nothing by the end of this. The fate of the universe hangs in the balance. What will you choose?" "I choose life," Brad said. "I choose the way of the cobra and the way of the fox. I choose the power of the stars." "Your words are hollow," the voice hissed. "You have failed in a way you cannot possibly comprehend." Brad spun, confused. "Everything I have ever done has been in the service of life!" "There is more to life than the state of living. It is not a binary element. Some are alive and yet dead. Some are dead and yet alive. One of the former needs to be revived. Some of the latter need to be returned to their proper state. And then there is you." "What of me? I am alive." "Yet you are dead. You do not choose; you are at the mercy of the elements. You must choose. You must live. Only then can you offer the gift of life." A throbbing. The world shifted, changed. The fox looked at him. Brad hissed back. The fox jumped backwards, warily. Brad lifted the fore of his serpentine body forward and hissed again, the hood flaring wide. He slithered forward, taunting the fox. The fox shrunk back once more, yet did not tear its gaze from the hypnotic pattern of the cobra's hood. For several minutes the process repeated. The fox falling back, the cobra advancing. The cobra was faster, more deadly. Then the fox circled wide and ran for the goal, the meal the two creatures had been fighting for. The cobra was deadlier, but the fox was smarter. A throbbing. The world shifted, changed. Brad flew on a crescendo of light. Higher and higher he soared, music filling him with euphoria. Wind rushed past him, and his heart burst with bliss. Then he plummeted. He fell screaming in terror. The ground rushed up to meet him and he fell into it, the impact creating a deep tunnel that continued to plunge deeper and deeper. He fell for what felt like eternity. Then the light returned. It shot him back into the sky, filling him once again with wonderful emotion. Then he plummeted. He fell screaming in terror. The ground rushed up to meet him and he fell into it, the impact creating a deep tunnel that continued to plunge deeper and deeper. He fell for what felt like eternity. Then the light returned. It shot him back into the sky, filling him once again with wonderful emotion. Then he plummeted. This time, he made a choice. This time, he resisted with every fibre of his being, holding nothing back. The plummet slowed. The plummet stopped, and his feet were on the Earth. Neither soaring nor plummeting. A throbbing. The world shifted, changed. Purple. Purple everywhere. Drowning in purple. A throbbing. The world shifted, changed. Brad opened his eyes and light flooded in. He was lying on his back. He tried to rise but the movement of his head sent waves of nausea crashing through his system. Brad groaned and collapsed back to the mattress. Worst hangover ever, Brad groggily thought to himself. He tried to remember the night he must have had, but couldn't. Everything after the Rebel attack on his base was a blur... Rebel attack? Confusing thoughts vied for his attention. What in the hell had he been thinking? Mental note: Party sober in future. From now until the end of fucking time. Then he saw the gigantic ant. "Fuck," he mumbled. "Alcohol doesn't do that." The ant came closer and extended some of its arm-things. Brad didn't know whether to laugh or scream. It shined a light in his eyes with one pincer while it prodded around his head with the other. That worried him. He didn't know hallucinations were supposed to be tactile. Pain exploded as the ant touched a spot near the back. Brad gasped and the ant, mercifully, stopped touching his head. "How many fingers is Ooryl holding up?" the ant asked. It extended a claw arm in front of his face and spread it out wide. "Ooryl," Brad muttered. "Wonderful. Say hi to Corran fucking Horn for me. When I find out who talked me into buying this crap..." "How many fingers is Ooryl holding up?" the ant asked. "Three. I'm not blind, UberGand," Brad murmured. "I just feel like shit." "You have been unconscious for several hours." "What happened? How did I get here?" Ooryl paused for a second. "You have been injured." Brad let out a short laugh. "Will I live?" Ooryl nodded. "Yes. The injury is not serious. The short-term effects will wear off in a few hours." Brad laughed again. "Not serious, the hallucination says." Ooryl cocked his head to the side. "Ooryl does not understand." "Of course you don't," Brad murmured. "They never do." Ooryl flashed the light into his eyes again. "Ooryl," Brad asked. "What happened? How did I get here?"