Attendees: CB, CG, TW, DC, JH, TH (coach),HC (assistant coach) AW, RH
Goals: DC(2)
MOM: JH,RH,DC,CB
AUNT: RH
Captain Kurgen stared out through the thermo-tempered glass as his cruiser arrived to pick him up, he kissed his wife and child goodbye before bracing himself for the blast of the airlock and laucnching himself directly into the familiar surrounds of the cruiser cabin. Chas Brown locked in the coordinates and striker hit the launch button, sending the camrytron overdrive into warp and sending the crew deep into the outer Albert System. In the gloom up ahead the crew could already see Futsal, surrounded by its three moons and its gangs of marauding soldiers.

Striker put the cruiser into orbit and slowly the rest of the task-team arrived. Battle weary soldiers, excited by the prospect of a final showdown, a chance for supremacy. The pre-battle briefing was about to begin when the coach arrived in full battle dress with a lip smothered in respect. “I’ll be controlling things from up here” he whispered into his communicator, “but this time I’ll have company”. He threw back the door to show a Huge Covill looming in the dark, built in the likeness of a man, but with giant cannons for legs, standing 3 metres high he was an awesome sight. “He’ll stay with me” barked the coach, “we can’t let him loose just yet”.

The ground-force beacon crackled from the control deck, “skirmish below, you’ll be in orbit for a further 18mins”. The coach and captain looked grimly at each other, this was news they didn’t need, the tension was already high, it would only get higher.

“Feed the Grilla and load the Hannantron” ordered Kurgen. Dutifully the team opened the cage doors and threw chickens to the giant grilla, locked to its net, like a spider ready to pounce. Then Striker opened the pharmacutical box and measured out a cocktail strong enough to kill a thurmasauron and slipped it down the throat of the sleeping Hannantron, the giant beast barely stirred, simply nodding its head in appreciation.

The siren went and the battle started. And what a start. The enemy came out strong and ruthless, mercilessly knocking down barrier after barrier and sweeping in two successful raids before the crew had time to steady. Emotionally the damage was huge and it took desperate measures from strong men at the back and a vigilant Grilla to stop an avalanche. Corporal Chas Brown led the run into the danger zone bravely, forcing defensive switch and then switch again, forcing attack and counter attack. But the enemy were strong and again they swooped, angry and loud, screaming through the meek shields. Chas found fault in the speedie midwork of lance corporal Tao Weis who was caught off guard, his response was wild and erratic, losing control of his hover vehicle and sending friendly fire spewing in all directions, not a single crewman remained unscathed, and when he finally regained the wheel another attack had swept through.

The second half of the battle was a much more even affair, Corporal Weis and Striker teaming up delightfully and fruitfully, the elusive Wallmartin, with his ability to disappear, sneaking around the backdoor on several occasions and a solid defensive unit providing a steady platform. But the giant cannons of the hannantron and the Grilla seemed wayward, blasting forever skyward and making no impact on the offensive front.
The enemy locked down and the battle was lost.

A tired, sad and angry crew made their way back to the nutrient post South of the solar river and dined on parmagana. The coach bestowing his battle medal to the captain for duties in combat. It was small reward for a desperate day.

Futsal still glows in the evening sky, and on a clear night you can hear the pounding feet and cries of

“mark up nannas, jesus, what the fuck are you guys doing?”