"BOOM!"

The bunker beside them exploded, shrapnel rained down on them from all sides.

"Goddammit!" Boyd said. He hunkered down and opened his intergalactic cellular device. The screen displayed only one message, "No Signal."

"Hey, Boyd?"

Boyd sighed. "Yes, Frog."

Frog's eyes were glassy and bright behind his glasses. Boyd never understood why Frog didn't just get his eyes corrected permanently, but then, there were a lot of things he'd never understood about Frog.

"Boyd, um. . .what's your favorite color?"

Boyd looked at Frog and raised his eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me. We're in the middle of the worst action we've seen in days, in the middle of intergalactic war, and the question you ask me is 'What's my favorite color?'"

Frog looked down sheepishly. "Sorry, Boyd."

Rapid zings went over their heads.

"Keep your damn head down, Frog. One of those things hit you and I'll be clearing grey matter out of my ears for weeks."

Frog ducked down lower in the trench. A few minutes passes. Boyd checked his cellular again and slammed it shut. Hard.

"What's wrong, Boyd?" Frog asked.

Boyd looked up. "No signal." He shook his head. "It's not looking good. I don't know what the hell they were thinking. WE are a body pickup unit for Christ's sake. What the hell do we know about saving anything, let alone the moon?"

"They can't help it, Boyd. Even though Calendia offered to give us one of their moons if ours gets blown up, the government would rather try to save ours because they don't like the idea of a pink moon."

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard in awhile." Boyd scratched his head. "Frog, I'm going to be honest with you. All they sent was us. We have no back-up, nothing. I think we're gonna die."

Frog sniffed. "I don't want to die."

"Me either, but we'd better face the truth rather than going around looking for miracles."

"Boyd?"

"Yes, Frog."

"What's your favorite color?"

Boyd rolled his eyes. "Not this again. Jesus Christ, Frog. What is your problem?"

Frog sighed. "I can't help it. When I get nervous, I ask questions."

Boyd took a deep breath. "Well, try to keep it to a minimum. I have to try to figure out a way to get out of this mess."

Frog was silent for a few minutes. For that, Boyd was grateful. He didn't want to make Frog upset, but as much as he hated to admit it, they were screwed.

"Hey, Boyd?" Frog asked.

"Yes, Frog."

"Do you know how to fight?"

Boyd looked at Frog. "Bar fight, yeah. Giant mutants from Rodon, no."

"Darn." Frog said.

"You know something, Frog? You are one weird s.o.b."

Frog chuckled, and looked away.

Suddenly giant orange tentacles wrapped around Boyd. He screamed. Frog leapt to his feet and pulled out a large blade he'd had hidden in his uniform and within seconds, the creature from Rodon was reduced to fleshy rubble.

"Holy shit, Frog. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Military."

Boyd stopped. "You're shittin' me."

Frog shook his head. "Nope. They transferred me to body detail after the higher ups decided that I was too vicious for the battle field."

"Frog, I never would have guessed it."

Frog laughed. "Neither does anyone else."

Boyd wiped his face with his hands. "Okay, my turn for a question. What's with the glasses?"

Frog smiled. "Reflection."

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