Narrator: The Milky Way galaxy is a big place. So big, in fact, that attempting to tell it's story would be a job for God, or maybe Robert Jordan.
Elf: Sarge, gimme some suppressing fire down Elm Street.
Schlock: EAT HOT SUPPRESSION, PSYCHO-BEARS!
SFX: THOOOM
Narrator: It's the smaller stories that interest us, the galactic mega-epic is just an out-of-focus backdrop for individual heroes and villains.
Narrator: Of course, there was this one time when the fate of the entire Milky Way hung on the actions of a few undercompensated people. . .
Elf: If I'd wanted the heavy stuff, I'd have called Petey for some gravy.
Narrator: This was one of those rare cases where a little story had a very, very big ending.
Schlock: If you didn't want the heavy stuff, you shouldn't have asked me.
Narrator: ... Or maybe where the big story has a very, very small beginning.
Elf: Chain o' command, Sergeant. You were s'posed to delegate.
Schlock: Quit complainin, Lieutenant. My suppressing fire worked. They're suppressed now.
Elf: Suppressed. Yeah. And on fire we want prisoners, not a barbecue.
Ob'enn Soldiers: Stop, drop, and roll!
Stop, drop, and roll!
Ob'enn Soldiers: Go get some water!
GO GET SOME WATER!