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Book: Vengeance of the Lump-Being
Chapter 11: Genital Decay Epidemic

Like a wounded and mildly arthritic sea cow, the Blenheim limped painfully towards the planet Gun-Loc. What remained of the ship’s engine section still sparkled as its torn energy conduits leaked power. Trails of coolant vaporised into the void, leaving a pale tail in the ship’s wake.

Even though Gun-Loc was no more than nine million kilometres away, with only manoeuvring thrusters available it would take almost twenty hours for the Blenheim to reach it.

The flagship of the bounty hunter fleet was in desperate need of help.

Three soft tones sounded.

Peter the Ace opened his eyes. He yawned. “Enter.”

The door to his quarters whooshed open. The bounty hunter squinted as the bright lights of the corridor streamed into his dark quarters. A well-toned athletic female stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light.

“Breakfast!” Jemima Murma said, cheerfully.

The bounty hunter sat up. “Excellent! Thank you my dear. Lights.”

Four sets of ambient lights faded up.

Jemima Murma gasped as she saw her master’s naked torso. She walked over to the dining table at the far corner of the room, trying not to stare at the perfect example of masculinity before her. Jemima Murma’s normally powerful legs felt weak with desire at the sight of Peter the Ace’s chiselled chest and abdomen. It was a sight few ever got to see. She placed the tray of food down, feeling tremendously privileged to be one of those few.

Peter the Ace threw back the luxuriant covers of his large bed, and stood up. He grabbed his blue and gold Palace of Amino dressing gown and put it on, tying its chord round his waist. The Palace of Amino’s insignia glistened on the gown’s breast pocket.

“A bowl of grapefruit, and a plate of bacon, two eggs, hash browns, and a dollop of ketchup.” The Blenheim’s assistant said, breathlessly. “And a pot of coffee to wash it all down.”

Peter the Ace nodded. “Just what I need to start the day.” He couldn’t help noticing her new outfit. She wore nothing more than a 10-centimetre long red-leather mini-skirt – perfect for showing off her tanned and toned legs - and a pair of coin-sized silver nipple cups which, by some miracle, managed to grip on to her pert breasts. She wore nothing on her feet. Her dark hair was now arranged into a neck-length bob.

“I’d better get back to the galley.” Jemima said. “Panman just ordered a stack of pancakes and he won’t be able to stand waiting too long for them.”

Peter the Ace sat down at the table. “Of course.” He said, filling his mouth with sliced pig.

Jemima Murma bowed, and then swayed sexily out into the corridor. The door closed behind her.

With a touch of a few controls on the table, Peter the Ace activated the wall-sized view-screen opposite. He flicked through a few tele-video channels, stopping on a local news channel. An image of what looked like an impact crater filled the screen. Interested he turned up the sound.

…worst disaster to hit the city of Ry-Fol since the genital-decay epidemic two centuries ago. Almost all of the city’s central area is destroyed, and with more than half-a-million citizens still unaccounted for, the death toll is likely to be extreme.

The image changed to a glowing object high in a clear blue sky. The camera-work was unsteady and amateurish as it followed the object.

The unusually clear day allowed market trader Dumus Gasbug to record these images of the object before it hit the city. The object, flaming as it speeds through the atmosphere, is estimated to be no more than three metres in length, but the incredible speed of its impact released an enormous amount of energy.

The object hit, generating a blinding flash that washed out the image. The aerial view of the crater returned.

Investigations continue as to the nature and origin of the object. Now, over to my colleague, Huctur Pisinwind, for the day’s business news.

A bald spectacled man appeared on the screen. “The disaster in Ry-Fol continues to have a detrimental effect on Gun-Loc’s business community, with the planet’s largest fast-food restaurant chain, Uncle Butt’s, falling another twenty points to an all-time low of…

Peter the Ace muted the sound. He activated the communicator. “Panman?”

There was a moment’s silence. “Yo!

“How are things up on the bridge?”

Dull.” Panman answered. “We’re making slow but steady progress. Still almost a day away from Gun-Loc.

“Any sign of assistance?” Peter the Ace asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

No! I’d hoped one of them would have turned up by now.

“Patience, my friend.” Peter the Ace changed the subject. “I was just found out something interesting on one of Gun-Loc’s news channels.”

What was that?

“Apparently, the planet’s largest city was hit by some object from space. The whole centre of the city has been destroyed.”

Hmm… That’s odd. We didn’t detect meteors nearby. Unless… You don’t think that…

“I do indeed.” Peter the Ace said.

Whoa! Do you think he could survive such an impact?

“I’m not sure. He’s certainly not designed for that kind of thing.”

Well, if he did survive, he’ll be in one hell of state!

Peter the Ace laughed. “Indeed! It’ll be interesting to find out.”

It will! Hold on…


Sensors indicate a ship just emerged from subspace two-million kilometres behind us. I’d better check it out.

“OK.” Peter the Ace said. “I’ll join you after breakfast.” He switched off the communicator, took a sip of coffee, and then tucked in to his fried feast. The thought of Justin slamming into the city kept the first-class bounty hunter giggling for the next ten minutes.

The main view-screen showed an image of the unidentified vessel, surrounded by statistical information automatically generated by the Blenheim’s complex sensor array. The unidentified ship was unusual in design, resembling a squat mushroom. The head of the mushroom was almost featureless, and had a brushed metal hull, dark grey in colour. The stubby stalk was packed with weaponry and sensory equipment. At only fifteen metres in length the ship was small, almost small enough to fit inside the Blenheim’s main cargo bay.

As a precaution Panman had activated the weapons systems and locked them onto the small ship. “Blenheim, have you got an identity for that ship yet?”


The communicator bleeped indicating an incoming message. Panman activated the channel. “This is the Blenheim, Panman speaking.”

This is Sebastian Blood onboard the Hooded Whore – reporting as ordered.

“Cool! Dock with our topside port. Once the others arrive we’ll be giving a briefing.”

Looking forward to it. Sebastian Blood out.

The main view-screen tracked the Hooded Whore as it approached the Blenheim. The mushroom ship’s retro engines glowed brightly as it began reducing its velocity to match the Blenheim’s embarrassingly pathetic speed.

Jemima Murma entered the bridge. She walked over to Panman. “A stack of raspberry-toffee pancakes, as ordered.” She placed the plate of pancakes next to her master.

“Panman beamed with delight. “Thanks!” Three pancakes, dripping with syrup, found their way quickly into his mouth. It took the first-class bounty hunter less than a second to chew and swallow them.

The Blenheim’s assistant watched with admiration.

“These are great!” Panman said. “Even Justin can’t make them as good as this, and he’s a machine programmed with flawless recipes and technique!”

Jemima Murma bowed. “Thank you. I guess I have a special touch that can’t be emulated in an artificial mind.”

“You certainly have!”

Jemima Murma looked at the main view-screen. “I see we have a visitor.”

Panman stuffed another couple of pancakes into his mouth and looked up. The Hooded Whore was now only a few metres above the Blenheim’s topside. It was lowering itself gently onto the docking port. The bounty hunter swallowed. “Yeah, that’s Sebastian Blood’s ship. You’d better go up and greet him. Escort him to the conference chamber.”

The assistant bowed, and then walked sexily off the bridge.

Sebastian Blood stepped of the last rung of the ladder and onto the floor of the Blenheim’s topside airlock. There was a whoosh and clank as a series of heavy doors sealed the round port above.

The sixth-class bounty hunter looked around. The airlock was round and spacious – at least four metres in diameter – with a single arched doorway. On three evenly spaced display panels on the wall, the Palace of Amino insignia was displayed with the words ‘Welcome onboard the Blenheim – flagship of the bounty hunter fleet’ written beneath.

A feeling of incredible pride and awe came over him. This was the first time the bounty hunter had been onboard the Blenheim, an honour rarely experienced by anyone, even by top-class bounty hunters and those in the highest positions of power. Not wanting to appear overawed, Sebastian Blood took a deep breath and calmed himself.

There was a brief hiss as the slight pressure difference was equalised. A green light above the doorway was illuminated, and then door slid smoothly open. A stunning female was standing outside. She smiled sweetly, and bowed. “Welcome.” She said. “Please come aboard.”

Sebastian Blood’s eyes wandered, examining her toned, tanned, and perfectly proportioned physique – her minimal clothing – a very short skirt and tiny nipple cups - barely covered anything. His groin ached. “Thank you.” He said; his voice a little higher than usual. He stepped out of the airlock and into another round, but larger, room.

The female spoke. “I’m Jemima Murma, assistant to Peter the Ace and Panman. I’m at your service during your time onboard.”

The bounty hunter smiled. “That’s very good to know.”

She grinned, and then turned. “I’ve been asked to escort you to the conference chamber. Please follow me.”

Sebastian Blood followed her into the turbo lift at the opposite end of the room. He admired the sway and contraction of her buttocks.

Jemima Murma operated a touch pad. The door to the lift closed. “Main level.” She said. The lift began to descend smoothly.

Sebastian Blood decided to make conversation. “So, you must be a trainee bounty hunter.”

The Blenheim’s assistant shook her head. “I did apply, but I failed the entrance exam.”

The bounty hunter was confused. “But only trainee bounty hunters can become assistants on bounty hunter ships. How did you get this posting?”

The lift doors opened. “Two reasons.” She answered, walking sexily out of the lift. “One of which should be obvious!” She looked back, a naughty grin spread across her face.

Sebastian Blood followed her, gazing at her tanned and toned thighs. They were, quite literally, perfect. “It certainly is!” he said with delight. He followed her down the corridor, hardly noticing the luxuriously panelled walls. “What’s the other reason?”

She halted at a doorway. “You’ll find out shortly.” She touched a panel next to the door. The door whooshed sideways, revealing a large room, at the centre of which was a sleek oval table. Eight high-backed brown leather chairs surrounded the table. The room’s walls were lined with large display-screens, each currently displaying the Palace of Amino insignia. Two colourful bushes flanked a curved and extremely comfortable-looking sofa at one corner of the room. “Please wait here in the conference chamber.” Jemima Murma said. “Peter the Ace and Panman will be with you shortly.”

The bounty hunter nodded. “Will you wait with me?” he asked, walking into the conference chamber. He turned and smirked. “I need to know the other reason.”

She smiled. “As I said before, you’ll find out shortly.” She touched the panel next to the door. Before the bounty hunter could say anything more the door had slid shut, removing her beautiful physique from his view.

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