“Tighter, you blockhead!” Lawrence yelled.
Doctor Manacle, Mister Blister’s personal physician, councillor, and
nutritional advisor, did as he was told and tightened the stitches on his
master’s back. “That’s as tight as I can get them, sir.”
he said, straining. “Any tighter and I’ll create more tears
on your skin.”
Lawrence swung the embalmed body of Mister Blister around and grabbed the
doctor’s throat. “Tear my skin and I’ll tape your bladder
to your face!”
A bead of sweat dribbled down Doctor Manacle’s forehead. “I’ll
be careful.” he whispered.
Lawrence let go and turned back round. The leathery flesh of Mister Blister’s
corpse creaked and groaned. Although the embalming fluid had stopped the
decay, it had made the body of Mister Blister very stiff and difficult to
move. Tears and splits had become a daily occurrence. Doctor Manacle was
now at Lawrence’s side every hour of the day and night to repair any
damage. After two months of cracking up, Mister Blister’s body looked
like a badly tailored, hundred year old leather body-suit. It was only Lawrence’s
great acting ability, convincing bullshit, and threats of mutilation that
had kept his cover from being blown. But that cover would soon no longer
be needed. His new and as yet unnamed star ship was nearing completion,
and the mechanisation of ten thousand corpses had been done to satisfaction.
They were all waiting – dormant - deep in the numerous dank catacombs
that littered his new ship, ready to do his bidding.
Only one major task had yet to be performed - the integration of five thousand
pre-pubescent teenage girls into the ship’s neural net. The innocence
of their minds, their zest for life, and their complete lack of complex
emotional and hormonal problems should ensure machine-like reliability while
retaining the benefits of biological mental networks.
Doctor Manacle took a step back. “All done, sir.”
With difficulty, Lawrence pulled the body of Mister Blister up onto its
feet. “Hand me my gown!”
The doctor did as ordered.
Lawrence put it on, covering up the severely scarred upper part of the corpse,
much to the relief of the engineers on the bridge who were fitting the final
pieces of equipment onto the various consoles. They had all been on the
verge of vomiting ever since the gruesome stitching had begun.
In a hippopotamus-like manner, Lawrence manoeuvred the body of Mister Blister
over to the front of the gothic-style bridge. He slapped a sinewy hand down
onto a communications panel.
The giant main view-screen glimmered to life and the face of a stressed
and exhausted executive appeared. “What is it, my lord?”
“Are the girls ready yet?”
The executive nodded. “Yes, but I really think you should have asked
their parents for permission before…”
“Silence! Show them to me!”
The executive nodded once more and operated a few controls. The right half
of the image on the view-screen changed to a panoramic view of the giant
hall at the core of the ship. It was filled with five-thousand teenage girls
clothed in nothing more than badly knitted woollen night-dresses. They were
divided up into one-hundred rows, fifty deep, and in front of each were
a stool and a waist high pedestal on top of which was a strange device.
The girls stood there, remarkably calm considering their situation.
Lawrence smiled. “I see the drugs are working.”
“They are.” The executive replied. “Since they were administered
we have had no trouble from the girls. The screaming and slapping and hair-pulling
stopped almost immediately.”
“Excellent! Initialise the integration units.”
The executive did as he was ordered. He grabbed hold of an unnecessarily
large lever and pulled it hard down to the floor. In a ridiculous manner,
thousands of thin spikes, each one flickering with electrical discharge,
descended down from the high ceiling and connected with the strange device
on the pedestal in front of each girl. “Initialisation completed,
“Very good. Now, get the little harridans into position.”
The executive turned and faced the rows of unfortunate young females. He
shouted, his voice echoing around the vast hall. “Girls. Be seated.”
In unison, all five-thousand girls stepped to the front of their stools
then sat down. In a super-drugged haze they remained there, devoid of expression,
awaiting further instructions.
The executive spoke again. “Girls. Raise your hands.”
Obediently, each girl raised both her hands up to head height with palms
to the front. Then they sat there, perfectly still.
The final command was issued. “Girls. Bend forwards.”
Slowly, and with remarkable control, all the girls leaned forwards keeping
their hands in position. After a few seconds the girls made physical contact
with the strange devices in front of them. First, their hands squelched
into gel-filled sockets. Iron cuffs immediately sprang up and grabbed their
wrists. Then their faces, cold and soulless, pressed into the gel-filled
bowls between the hand sockets. Each girl shuddered for a second as an air
and nutrition pipe extended out of the gel and into their mouths. Then they
Lawrence gazed with glee at the image of all the girls on the main view-screen.
“Ha harr! Look at them! Weak-brained adolescents! They bow before
me without question! They see me as their true lord and master! My infamous
activities of the past persuade them to love me for what I am - an all powerful
omnipotent baneful creature of depraved intelligence and merriment! Yes
yes yes!” With an immense thud of joy, Lawrence kicked the communications
Foolishly, the executive spoke. “Actually, I think it was the complex
cocktail of drugs that achieved their co-operation.”
The dark messiah of doom screamed. “Insolence!”
With a punch like a flyweight, Lawrence activated the S.H.E.E.P.S. (Ship-wide
Horrific and Excruciating Excellent Punishment System). Instantly, a small
hovering robot appeared out of an orifice on the wall of the hall and buzzed
swiftly over to the executive. With brutal accuracy, it fired. A small jagged
projectile the size of a walnut zipped past the executive’s head,
tearing off his right ear. The executive yelped and instinctively put his
hand where his ear had once been. Blood pumped out of the wound and down
into his shirt sleeve.
With its job done, the hovering robot buzzed back to its orifice.
“Ha harr!” Lawrence cackled. “The S.H.E.E.P.S. is an outstanding
success!” He stopped laughing and became intensely serious. “Let
that be a lesson to you, gnat mother! This punishment system extends to
every niche and gutter and indentation in this mighty vessel. Cross me again
and I’ll swell your belly to ridiculous proportions. It’ll burst
like a balloon!”
The executive shivered.
Lawrence yelled. “Do you understand me?!”
“Yes.” The executive whimpered.
Instant and insane calm overcame Lawrence. “That’s lovely to
hear.” he whispered in a high tone. “Shall we continue with
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Go on then.”
The executive, shaken and bleeding, explained the next procedure. “All
that’s left to do, my lord, is to activate the bio-neural interface
system that each girl is attached to and secure a solid data feed between
their brains and the ship’s computer.”
“I know what’s next, you plug monger! Get on with it!”
The executive nodded. With his right hand still pressing against his wound,
he grabbed hold of a lever even larger than the first and pulled on it with
his free hand. With difficulty, he managed to force it all the way down.
Initially the effect was quite subtle, but powerful none the less. A deep
sub-sonic hum sounded and resonated through the hall. The girls, for the
moment, remained motionless with their hands and faces buried in the gel
on their bio-neural interface systems.
Lawrence watched the main view-screen. The left hand side now showed a computer
generated matrix of small red dots, each representing one of the enslaved
girls. There seemed to be no activity. “Why is nothing happening?!”
“Just a few more seconds. My Lord. The system will take a few moments
Lawrence waited a few more seconds. Then, just as his patience evaporated
completely and he prepared to use the S.H.E.E.P.S. once again, something
happened. One of the dots on the matrix turned green. Then another did the
same. Then another. And another. Then ten more. And fifty more after that.
“It’s happening!” the executive said with great relief.
“Look, my lord, it’s happening!”
Lawrence looked at the image of the hall. Hundreds of the girls were quivering
and twitching randomly as the ship’s computer connected directly to
their minds. He looked across to the matrix. Already more than half of the
dots were green. “Ha harr!!!” he shrieked. “My plan is
perfect! I am the undisputed maximum intelligence in the universe!”
He danced around like a pixie.
In less than a minute, all five-thousand red dots had turned green. Every
one of the girls in the hall was now convulsing face down in gel as the
ship’s powerful computer incorporate them into its consciousness.
The executive was examining a display console. “My lord!” he
said excitedly. “The power of the ship’s computer has already
increased a thousand-fold! When the pre-pubescent teenage girl collective
becomes more and more integrated over the next few hours this ship will
have a computer more potent than any ever seen ever!”
Lawrence screamed with delight. “Yes! Yes! Yes!!!” He leapt
around the bridge putting Mister Blister’s carcass through a blobby-like
performance, kicking some of the engineers with glee as he passed them.
One of the engineers fell backwards onto a power drill, piercing his own
skull. It activated, mashing his brain to a paste.
A ripping noise brought Lawrence’s theatrical presentation to an abrupt
close. He looked down. Something had given. He pulled off Mister Blister’s
trousers and revealed a thoroughly disgusting sight. A half-metre tear had
appeared that ran from Mister Blister’s left knee up through his groin
to his navel. His grisly embalmed genitals were hanging on by nothing more
than a thread or two of skin. Lawrence cursed under his breath, and then
hauled the tough mass of Mister Blister towards Doctor Manacle.
The doctor stared with dread at the sight that approached him. Most of the
engineers gagged as Mister Blister stomped by.
Lawrence stopped in front of the doctor and pointed between Mister Blister’s
legs. “Fix this! Now!”