“Right,” Peter the Ace said. “Now hook up the professor.”
“I obey.” Justin answered, devoid of any feeling. Effortlessly
he bent over and picked up the virtually lifeless form of Professor AmpléBläckett
Hàgênmåclídensõn. With a whirr of servos
and a hiss of hydraulics, the mechanoid carried the academic over to the
cyborg construction unit at the centre of the room. He carefully placed
the professor into the device, making sure his legs and arms were secured.
The cyborg construction unit bleeped in acceptance.
Sind’a Thighs stood next to Peter the Ace and watched the proceedings
with great interest and a touch of apprehension. Not because of the professor,
but because of the other occupant of the cyborg construction unit - Digby.
Although he was of no significance in the big scheme of things, she felt
concern for his well-being. She had mentioned this feeling to Peter the
Ace as they carried their injured companions into the ship. Peter the Ace
had simply told her not to worry and that in time those kinds of feelings
would fade away - especially after year eight’s ‘Severing Emotional
Attachment without Remorse’ lectures. No top class bounty hunter could
ever afford to let such emotion cloud his or her judgement.
Justin turned and faced Peter the Ace and spoke in monotone. “The
subjects are now correctly positioned in the cyborg construction unit.”
“Excellent!” Peter the Ace said. “Activate the Limb and
Torso Irreparable Tissue Eliminator.”
Justin operated a few controls on a nearby panel then stomped away to a
safe position. Several data-screens flickered to life. The cyborg construction
unit buzzed and clicked.
“Watch this!” Peter the Ace said to Sind’a Thighs. “This
is really quite entertaining!”
The trainee nodded and watched the machinery at the centre of the room.
Several devices of varied design were descending from the ceiling. They
turned to point at the professor and Digby. A bright strobe of light flashed
across the two bodies. An accompanying symphony of thunderous cracks reverberated
through the room. Immediately several areas of flesh on the professor and
Digby burst into flames. First skin, then flab, then muscle, then bone was
vaporised into a cloud of dark smoke. Even though the massive extractor
fan on the ceiling was working hard, the stench of burning meat was thick
Sind’a Thighs was shocked. “What is going on?!”
Peter the Ace noticed her distress. “Don’t worry.” he
said, smiling. “The cyborg construction unit is simply burning away
all the parts of the professor and your friend that cannot be saved. The
unit will then replace them with mechanoid components.”
“Oh. I guess that’s all right.”
“Of course it is. Look. See how Digby’s arms and torso have
“They were obviously beyond hope of recovery. Now they’ll be
replaced by heavily armour-plated synthetic versions - it’ll be a
“What about Digby’s legs?” Sind’a Thighs asked,
pointing below the intense flashes of laser fire. “They are still
Peter the Ace nodded. “Obviously the cyborg construct unit has determined
that they’re in reasonable health. They’ll be reattached after
the torso has been built. Because of the weight of the torso though, Digby
will probably have to build up his puny leg muscles to absurd proportions.
He’ll be pumping iron and injecting steroids for months!”
Sind’a Thighs nodded and smiled, although she was obviously still
The celebrated emotional support skills of Peter the Ace came into play
once again. “If you like, I’ll make sure you’re assigned
the task of rehabilitating him.”
Her eyes widened. “Thank you. I would like that very much.”
“Excellent!” The bounty hunter said. “Consider it done.”
“You are kind beyond necessity!” the trainee said, kissing Peter
the Ace’s hand.
“Of course,” Peter the Ace added, watching the trainee caress
his hand. “Digby’s rehabilitation activities must not interfere
with your bounty hunter training. You’re on the fast track training
programme now. If you miss any lectures, tests, tutorials, or practicals
you’ll not just be kicked off the programme, you’ll be colonically
irrigated with bleach and expelled from the Palace of Amino itself.”
The trainee nodded solemnly. “I understand.”
For a moment the lasers stopped firing allowing some of the dense smoke
to dissipate. A grim sight was revealed.
The trainee gasped
Peter the Ace, however, laughed. “That should make you feel better!”
he said, pointing. “If you’re still feeling concerned at the
extent of Digby’s vaporisation, look at Professor AmpléBläckett
Hàgênmåclídensõn! Only his head remains!”
Suddenly one of the lasers fired. The blast cut into the professor’s
face and disintegrated everything from the nose down.
Peter the Ace laughed even louder. “Sorry! I mean half his head!”
Sind’a Thighs could not help but see the funny side too. She let out
a few girlish giggles.
With a piercing hiss, four nozzles on the floor at each corner of the cyborg
construction unit expelled vast quantities of ice-cold carbon-dioxide, extinguishing
all the burning flesh. After a couple of second the nozzles closed. The
extraction fan on the ceiling whirred like a jet engine, clearing the room
almost instantly. The lasers withdrew back into the ceiling. New devices
“This part is even more entertaining!” Peter the Ace said.
With intense activity, the new devices began to circle the two patients.
Servos, power conduits, co-processors, hydraulics, data networks, and thick
armour were fitted to the professor and Digby with amazing speed and precision.
Smaller machinery concentrated on integrating the patients’ nerve
tissue into the cyborg systems.
While all this was going on, in another corner of the room other devices
were constructing mechanoid limbs ready for attachment after the completion
of the torsos.
Ross Mental entered the room and performed an impressive display of kicks
and punches. “That bald fucker, Lawrence, is locked in the super reinforced
cage in the cargo bay as ordered.”
“Excellent!” Peter the Ace said. “Will he live, do you
“Of course, that motherfucker won’t go down this easily. He’d
regained consciousness by the time I’d left him. He was mumbling some
shit about fuckin’ woeful retribution and the abode of the damned.”
“Fuck yeah! He claims he’s going to send us all there. The fucker’s
a grade one lunatic!”
“Indeed he is. How’s Brother Drool?”
“He’s in a bad fuckin’ way. I looked in on the medical
bay on my way up here. Apparently he had a genetic defect in his facial
bone structure. When I punched him to stop him firing my tank’s fuck-off
weapons his face shattered into forty-eight pieces and sent splinters of
bone deep into the fucker’s brain! The automatic medical machines
had no choice but to extensively lobotomise him!”
“Hmm.” Peter the Ace said. “That’s rather unfortunate.”
“Yeah, fuckin’ unfortunate for him, all he’s good for
now is sanitary work. But it’s not unfortunate for us!”
Peter the Ace was curious. “How do you mean?”
“Well, it’s no good having a fuckin’ weak-boned trainee
at the palace. His genetic defect could have remained hidden until he qualified.
He would then be a fuckin’ disaster waiting to happen!”
“Excellent point! I’ll request an audience with the Superior
Beings as soon as we get back. I’ll recommend that each trainee receives
a hard punch in the face immediately. That should prevent this happening
on a mission ever again.”
“Fuckin’ cool! And you can tell the Superior Beings that I volunteer
to carry out those punches personally!”
In the corner of the room the devices preparing the mechanoid limbs for
Digby and the professor bleeped to announce they had completed their tasks.
Peter the Ace, Ross Mental, and Sind’a Thighs watched as the metal
appendages were carried across the room. Within seconds Professor AmpléBläckett
Hàgênmåclídensõn had two cyborg arms and
two cyborg legs attached to his thickly armoured torso. Digby’s new
arms were attached only moments later. The micro surgery devices of the
cyborg construction unit then began the intricate task of connecting Digby’s
real legs to the specially prepared sockets at the base of his synthetic
Sind’a Thighs looked up at her mentor. “When will the process
“Soon.” Peter the Ace replied. “The cyborg construction
unit has yet to connect the brains of Digby and the professor to their artificial
systems. That’s the most complex part of the process.”
A communications console buzzed. Peter the Ace answered. “Hello?”
“Ah, Panman. Have you satisfied your hunger?”
“Not completely, but I’m out of danger now.”
“Excellent. What’s up?”
“While I was in the galley gorging on vanilla frosted banana gateaux,
Jemima Murma wandered in. She told me the most momentous news! Guess what
Peter the Ace was intrigued. “Is she the long lost bastard daughter
“Hmm… Can she warp space with her bare hands and create new
realities of untold splendour?”
“Um… Is she able to dislocate her jaw and swallow live mammals
while reciting fine eighteenth-century Earth poetry?”
“Not that I know of.”
Ross Mental leapt into the conversation. “I know! She’s a fuckin’
“You’re both way off the mark!”
Peter the Ace had grown tired of Panman’s guessing game. “You’d
better just tell us.”
“She’s prepared a massive buffet of delectable quality to welcome
us back on board! Apparently it’s all laid out ready in the banqueting
“Too right! I’m off there now, right after I change out of these
academic gowns. I suggest you change too, they restrict movement too much
- It’s hard to keep your mouth full of food!”
“Good idea. It’ll be good to feast ourselves before we head
back to the palace. We’ll join you there shortly.”
Peter the Ace looked at Justin. “When Digby and the professor regain
consciousness, escort them carefully up to the banqueting hall.”
Justin’s neck servos whirred as his metal head bowed. “I obey.”
Peter the Ace, Ross Mental, and Sind’a Thighs left the cyborg construction
Panman grinned like a Sangsmiler dung beast.
Jemima Murma noticed his pleasure. “You are pleased with my work?”
The first class bounty hunter turned to the minimally clothed assistant.
“Too right! You’ve excelled yourself once again!”
The six metre dining table at the centre of the Blenheim’s ornate
banqueting hall was piled high with colourful and delicious food from
many of the most respected worlds within the known sectors. The most impressive
dish was the metre high Gargarlon chicken thigh at the centre of the table.
It was coated in thousands of spices and herbs, and was dripping with
Panman was drooling. “Awesome!”
“Are you waiting for the others,” Jemima Murma asked, “or
She didn’t get the chance to finish her stupid question. Already,
Panman had ripped off a huge chunk of the giant chicken thigh and was
munching noisily on it. With his free hand he grabbed a load of Lligrehtof
meatballs and dunked them into a conveniently positioned bowl of vulture
blood clot syrup. He forced them into his mouth.
Jemima Murma could hear the whirr of Panman’s servo assisted jaws
crushing the food. A deep sense of pride washed over her. To have a top-class
bounty hunter ingest the food that she’d lovingly prepared was an
honour above all others. Sometimes she found it hard to believe the fantastic
job that she had as assistant to Peter the Ace and Panman.
After failing the entrance test to become a trainee bounty hunter, Jemima
Murma had been deeply depressed and had given up all hope of a respectable
job. Only her well-toned figure and her willingness to wear scant outfits
allowed her to remain at the Palace of Amino. For several years she could
only find work in the greasy spoon cafés of the palace’s
under-class districts serving drainage cleaners and sewer swillers their
daily doses of lard and cheap tea.
All had seemed lost until she finally got her first big break. The Big
‘n’ Soft ‘n’ Juicy Doughnut Bar, situated in the
high echelons of the Central Tower, was advertising for an erotically
appealing female to design and prepare a new range of doughnut related
products. Jemima Murma would never have seen the advertisement had not
one of her flatulent customers fished out a copy of Top-Class Amino Catering
Week from one of the paper dumps and left it in the café where
she worked. Realising this was the only way out of the stench and depravity
of her under-class existence, she applied.
Later that day she was interviewed and tested. Samuel Spongemaster, the
doughnut bar’s proprietor, was highly impressed with her designs,
and especially with her well-toned thighs and abdominals. She started
Then, within weeks, her second and even bigger break came. Panman, a first-class
bounty hunter of remarkable appetite, was a regular visitor to the doughnut
bar. He had expressed his enjoyment of the new products and would often
visit several times a day for a snack. One day, shortly after the Mechanism
had almost destroyed the Palace of Amino, Panman arrived and ordered an
extra large batch of banana frosted double chocolate and cinnamon towers
- Jemima Murma’s speciality. He had then asked Samuel Spongemaster
who it was that was responsible for such amazing doughy products. Samuel
introduced Jemima Murma to the bounty hunter. After seeing her physique
Panman instantly made an offer. He said that he and Peter the Ace were
looking for a new onboard assistant for the Blenheim after Carmen, their
current one, had had her brain absorbed by Zyix Taskmaster on the Mechanism.
He asked Jemima Murma if she would like the job. Like all mortal beings,
Jemima Murma had always had a keen interest in Peter the Ace and Panman
- posters and figurines of the two heroes adorned her bedroom. She accepted
without hesitation. The rest, as they say, is history.
Sarah Helmet, the bounty hunter formally known as Sarah Savage, entered
the Banqueting hall. She was followed by the warrior babes, Suzanne Nag-Witch
and Ginny the Screech ‘n’ Wail Mistress.
Sarah Helmet took of her thick leather jacket. Her densely muscular male
physique bulged under her tight white tee-shirt. “Mind if we join
Panman tried to answer but the sheer mass of food in his mouth didn’t
even allow a squeak to escape.
Jemima Murma answered for him. “You are all most welcome.”
Sarah Helmet grabbed a large plate and began to pile up snacks. The warrior
babes approached the table, their chains - the only clothing they were
wearing - rattled loudly as they walked.
“This is one of the best spreads I’ve ever seen!” Ginny
the Screech ‘n’ Wail Mistress shrieked, her shrill voice almost
shattering some of the more delicate works of art that adorned the room.
She grabbed a hard-boiled chameleon and bit into it hard, tearing off
Suzanne Nag-Witch agreed and poured herself a tall glass of champagne.
As fifth-class bounty hunters the warrior babes rarely enjoyed such lavish
meals. They were both determined to make the most of it.
Ross Mental, and Sind’a Thighs entered the room. Peter the Ace followed
close behind, now wearing his astonishing armour-plated battle-suit.
Ross Mental immediately headed for the giant chicken leg, already half
devoured by Panman.
Sind’a Thighs joined Sarah Helmet and the warrior babes.
Peter the Ace admired the mound of colourful food. “Most excellent!”
He said. “Jemima, my dear, once again you’ve come up with
Jemima Murma bowed. “I am your obedient servant.”
“You are indeed! Why don’t you join us and have something
to eat yourself?”
She looked up at her master. “Surely I am not deserving of such
an offer. I am far beneath anyone in this room, not only in status but
in intellect too.”
Peter the Ace nodded. “That is true, but on this occasion an exception
can be made.”
“Thank you!” she said, obviously excited. “You are kind
above all reason.”
Peter the Ace watched her as she joined the others at the table. He knew
about her failure to pass the test to become a bounty hunter trainee,
and he could imagine how she must have felt at loosing the chance to become
a member of the most elite group of crime fighters in the known galaxy.
Allowing her to eat alongside qualified bounty hunters onboard the greatest
ship in the bounty hunter fleet would give her a taste of the lifestyle
she could never have.
Just as Peter the Ace was about to join in the feast a nearby data-screen
flickered to life then bleeped. He looked at the graphical information
presented. “Panman!” he shouted. “Come and look at this!”
Panman joined his colleague at the data-screen. The fried locusts he was
carrying dripped hot fat onto the floor. “What’s up?”
Peter the Ace pointed at the screen. “I think we forgot something!”
“Whoa!” Panman exclaimed. He looked closer. “Are they
who I think they are?”
Peter the Ace nodded. He directed his voice to the ship. “Blenheim.
Augment screen section three-point-four. Enhance.”
The video image in one corner of the data-screen expanded its moon-lit
view of the battered top hull of the Satan’s Bog. The central section
was enlarged then enhanced with thirty different night-vision algorithms.
The image was now crystal clear - thousands of girls in woollen night
dresses were running all over the hull.
“Cool!” Panman said, stuffing several locusts into his mouth.
He swallowed hard. “They managed to find their way out. They’re
“They are indeed,” Peter the Ace said, “but it’s
a cold night and they’ll suffer physical as well as mental torment
if they stay out there much longer.”
“You’re right! And then they’ll have no intelligence
“And, their usefulness as future bounty hunter assistants will be
Panman thought for a moment. “We have to get them onboard and take
them back with us.”
Peter the Ace agreed. “My thinking exactly, but there are thousands
of them. We would have to fill all the free space on the Blenheim to get
them all in. That would not be wise.”
“Well, the main reason is because of the ultra-high levels of oestrogen
in their blood. They’ll try to tear us apart to get at our bodies.
That would be highly annoying.”
Panman nodded. “It would. We’ll have to take as many as we
can while keeping a portion of the ship cordoned off for our personal
“Good idea. What about the rest of the girls?”
Panman had it all planned out. “Well, the city that Lawrence’s
ship crashed through suffered major damage. Many of its restaurants will
have been destroyed and their staff members violently dismembered. The
remaining girls can be used to re-staff the new eating establishments
that rise from the ashes!”
“Surely that won’t be for months?”
Panman pointed at the screen. “I don’t think so. Look at the
city. Already power is being restored to some areas - lights are coming
on all over the place. The surviving population seems resourceful and
hard-working. When the rebuilding of the central areas begins the construction
workers will need nourishment during their breaks. Restaurants will therefore
be the first businesses to reopen!”
“Fantastic!” Peter the Ace said, impressed with his colleague’s
genius. Panman had fully justified leaving most of the girls behind.
“All we have to do now,” Panman said, “is figure out
how to get as many of the girls as possible into the Blenheim.”
Peter the Ace smiled. “I have a cunning idea!” He directed
his voice to the ship. “Blenheim, is the recently installed chemical
synthesis system on-line?”
The ship answered in an even more monotone voice than Justin would have.
“Excellent! Can chemicals created by the system be ejected through
the rear thruster nozzles?”
“Marvellous! Blenheim, create fifty litres of pure male pheromones
“PURE MALE PHEROMONES CANNOT BE CREATED BY THE CHEMICAL SYNTHESIS
Peter the Ace was astounded. “Why not?”
“ONLY SYNTHETIC VERSIONS OF CHEMICALS CAN BE CREATED BY THE CHEMICAL
SYNTHESIS SYSTEM, HENCE THE SYSTEMS NAME.”
The bounty hunter ignored the ship’s insolence. “Will a synthetic
version of male pheromones have the same arousing effect on humanoid females
as the real thing would?”
“That will have to do. Create fifty litres of synthetic male pheromones.”
“CHEMICAL SYNTHESIS SYSTEM ACTIVATED…”
“Cool idea, Ace!” Panman said. He placed the last fried locust
between his jaws and crushed it to a pulp. “Let’s hope it
has the desired effect.”
The Blenheim spoke. “FIFTY LITRES OF MALE PHEROMONES CREATED.”
“Excellent.” Peter the Ace said. “Spray them at maximum
pressure out of the rear thruster nozzles. Display on the data-screen.”
“REAR THUSTER NOZZLES ACTIVATED.”
A powerful jet of liquid discharged from the rear of the Blenheim. The
Jet quickly dispersed into a fine mist that covered the surface of the
Satan’s Bog’s hull between the bounty hunter vessel and the
Although the pheromones were synthetic, they had the desired effect immediately.
Like a herd of spooked bile-brutes, the girls turned and began running
towards the Blenheim. Their arms flailed in the air like gibbons.
“Cool!” Panman exclaimed. “They’ll be here in
“I’d better sort out where to put them.” Peter the Ace
said. “Blenheim, segregate this ship so that the occupants of this
room have free access to the following areas: the bridge, the luxury accommodation
deck, the holo-games room, the sauna, the cyborg construction lab, the
galley, and this room.”
The sound of heavy blast doors slamming shut all over the ship reverberated
through the banqueting hall.
“SEGREGATION COMPLETE. THE SPECIFIED AREAS HAVE BEEN ISOLATED FROM
THE REST OF THE SHIP.”
Panman made an astute observation. “The girls have reached the ship!”
Peter the Ace looked at the image on the data-screen. “Oh yes! They’re
trying to mate with the landing gear!”
“We should let them in.”
Peter the Ace spoke to the ship. “Blenheim, open the secondary cargo
bay door. Flood the segregated areas of the ship with the pheromones.”
The data-screen showed a section of the Blenheim’s underside opening.
In a fit of lustful frenzy, the girls began leaping up into the cargo
bay in an attempt to find the source of the pheromones - first ten, then
fifty, then a hundred, then more. The ship was filling with females at
an alarming rate.
“Whoa, Ace!” Panman exclaimed. “Your plan is a phenomenal
“It appears so. How many so far?”
Panman looked at the internal sensor data in the corner of the screen.
“Over three hundred!”
A dull thudding started out in the passageway.
“They’ve reached this level already!” Panman said. “They’re
trying to break the blast door down!”
Peter the Ace laughed. “We’re in no danger. It would take
a thirty mega-tonne nuclear detonation to even scratch those doors.”
The Blenheim spoke. “WARNING: MAXIMUM SAFE OCCUPANCY LEVEL EXCEEDED.”
Panman looked at the internal sensor data. “There are now over four-hundred
“How many more can we fit?” Peter the Ace asked.
Panman switched the external video-view to internal. An image of a passageway
on the Blenheim’s lowest deck was displayed. “Not many. Look!
They packed in like battery hens!”
The image showed girls upon girls upon girls. They were writhing like
maggots and moaning like seals.
Peter the Ace made an executive decision. “I think that’s
enough. Blenheim, close the secondary cargo bay door.”
After a few seconds, the Blenheim answered. “SECONDARY CARGO BAY
“How many did we get?”
Panman examined the data-screen. “Four-hundred and eighty-six! But
there are literally thousands left.”
“The restaurants of this city are going to be spoilt for choice
when it comes to hiring waitresses and kitchen staff.”
Ross Mental approached. “What the fuck are you two up to?”
Panman answered. “We’ve just recruited four-hundred and eighty-six
The foul-mouthed bounty hunter looked at the image of the crammed passageway.
“Fuckin’ cool! Where the fuck did you find them?”
“Deep in Lawrence’s ship.” Panman answered. “He
had them hooked up to his ship’s computer system. I guess he thought
it would supercharge its processing abilities.”
A rhythmic metallic stomping sound accompanied by the whirr of finely
tuned servos distracted the three bounty hunters. They looked towards
the doorway of the banqueting hall. Sarah Helmet, Sind’a Thighs,
and the warrior babes stopped eating and looked too.
Gleaming like a freshly polished wheel-hub, Justin stood there. The piercing
red pinpoints of light within his digital eyes pulsed as he spoke. “I
have escorted Professor AmpléBläckett Hàgênmåclídensõn
and Digby to the banqueting hall as ordered.”
“Well done.” Peter the Ace said. “Show them in.”
Justin stepped heavily to one side.
In a completely farcical manner, the newly mechanised professor stumbled
into the banqueting hall. Within seconds he lost control of his cyborg
body and fell forwards, smashing into the carpeted floor.
The bounty hunter females laughed.
Justin bent over and grabbed the professor. He pulled the academic to
his feet. The professor’s hydraulic leg systems hissed wildly as
he tried to remain upright.
Digby followed the professor into the room. He used a specially designed
reinforced zimmer frame to help him walk - essential to help his original
biological legs support the immense weight of his artificial torso.
As soon as Sind’a Thighs saw him she ran to his side. He smiled
Panman walked over to the professor. “Welcome back to the land of
the living! How do you feel?”
Professor AmpléBläckett Hàgênmåclídensõn
glared at the bounty hunter. The top half of the professor’s head
- the only remaining part of his original body - turned red with rage.
“What have you done to me?!” The professor’s voice,
now completely electronic due to the loss of everything below his nose,
warbled wildly. It was an improvement over Justin’s electronic voice
though as the professor’s expressed definite emotion. Obviously
the new upgrades to the cyborg construction unit had been successful.
Panman gave the professor an explanation. “When you fell from the
ventilation duct in hall of adolescent females you suffered horrendous
injuries. It took us over an hour to get you to our ship, by which time
you were in a deep coma and within seconds of death.”
The professor looked down and yelled. “Where is my body?!”
“It’s been incinerated.”
“How dare you do such a thing?!”
Ross Mental stepped in to answer that one. “Because we’re
fuckin’ top class bounty hunters of the Palace of Amino! We do what
the fuck we want!” He punched the air.
“What Ross Mental is trying to say,” Panman said, “is
that we had no choice. The flesh from your nose down was beyond recovery.”
The professor was furious. “This is an outrage! When I return to
my faculty I’ll instigate full legal proceedings against you and
your palace! I’ll sue the pants off you!”
Peter the Ace spoke. “You will never return to your faculty.”
“Are you imprisoning me?!”
“No. But once we get you back to the Palace of Amino you will never
be allowed to leave. The new cyborg body that you have contains hyper-advanced
top secret Amino technology that cannot be allowed to fall into unscrupulous
“This is preposterous! It infringes on all my rights as a sentient
Peter the Ace smiled. “If you’re referring to the rights drawn
up by the high council of Lord Gastronemus, ruler of the central worlds,
then you’re wrong.”
“What in Larleen’s name are you talking about?!”
“Those rights only apply to life-forms that are seventy percent
biological. You, my mechanical friend, are only eight percent biological.
The rest of you is the property of the Palace of Amino.”
The professor fumed.
Panman tried to calm him down. “Look on the bright side. You have
a new body that’s far superior to your old lard-ridden one in every
way, and you can now live at the Palace of Amino. Surely that’s
a dream come true!”
Sparks began to fly out of the sides of the professor’s chrome-plated
neck. Several of his servos melted. He fell, this time backwards, and
slammed into the wall.
With cold clarity Justin explained the situation. “A power surge
caused by Professor AmpléBläckett Hàgênmåclídensõn’s
emotional cyber-systems interface has initiated a complete power-down
of all his systems.”
“Oh dear.” Peter the Ace said. “You’d better take
him back to the lab. Keep him deactivated until we get back. He’s
obviously going to need a lot of counselling before he accepts his new
way of life.”
“I obey.” Justin said. He grabbed the professor’s chunky
plate-like feet and dragged him out of the room.
“I guess we should be getting back to the palace.” Panman
said to Peter the Ace.”
“You’re right as always.” Peter the Ace said. “But
what about Lawrence’s contorted vessel?”
Panman thought for a moment. “Fusion warheads!” He said excitedly.
“We’d only need one, and the entire ship would be vaporised!”
“True. But what about the nearby city and the thousands of girls
still wandering on the ship’s hull?”
“Maybe we could just leave it?”
Panman looked unconvinced, but then smiled. “Yeah, when I think
about it, that’d be cool! The city’s authorities could construct
a breathtaking amusement park within it! They could fill it with devastating
rides and life-threatening holo-games! Restaurants based around the theme
of the underworld could line each passageway! It would rule!”
“It would. There is a small problem with that idea though.”
Panman looked shocked. “It’s a most exceptional idea! What
problems could there possibly be?!”
“Perhaps the hundreds - possibly thousands - of mechanised undead
warriors still wandering around inside the ship, and also outside.”
Peter the Ace said.
His colleague could not disagree. “Whoa! You’re right! I forgot
“Indeed. They will have to be neutralised.”
“Yeah, but the Blenheim’s jammed full of stimulated females.
We can’t stick around too long or they’ll tear each other
apart with frustration. We need to get them back to the palace’s
drug therapy clinics as soon as possible.”
Peter the Ace nodded his head in the direction of the other bounty hunters
in the room. “We’ll just have to leave a team of volunteers
behind to slaughter the undead for us.”
Panman looked at the others. “I totally agree.” He raised
his voice. “Hey, everyone! Ace and I need to get back to the palace
straight away, but there are hundreds and hundreds of mechanised corpses
wandering about in and around Lawrence’s ship. They need to be brutally
and efficiently massacred before we can allow the local authorities to
have the vessel. Any volunteers?”
Immediately Sarah Helmet, the bounty hunter formally known as Sarah Savage,
drew a half-metre battle knife from her leather pants and thrust it into
the air. She shouted, dropping a joint of curried beef from her mouth.
“I will do it!”
Peter the Ace smiled broadly. He knew that Sarah Helmet could never refuse
the opportunity of carnage creation.
Suzanne Nag-Witch drew one of her fusion blasters. She caressed its long
steely barrel with her tongue. “I haven’t used this for days.”
The bounty hunter said breathlessly. A wicked grin spread across her face.
“Count me in.”
Ginny the Screech ‘n’ Wail Mistress rattled her chains with
obvious delight. “There’s nothing I love better than butchering
the damned!” she shrieked. “Just show me where the decomposing
bastards are and I’ll fracture their faces!”
Everyone’s D.R.E.D.D.S. (Dynamic Reinforced Ear Drum Defence System)
detected the excruciating tones of Ginny the Screech ‘n’ Wail
Mistress’s voice and immediately reduced the shrill sound energy
entering the ear canal by ninety-four percent.
Digby, whose ears did not benefit from advanced Palace of Amino defence
technology, winced in pain. He put his hands over his ears. Unfortunately
he had not yet gained full control of his cyborg arms. With a resounding
whack he knocked himself unconscious. He slumped to the floor, his ears
Sind’a Thighs grabbed him. “I will take him to the medical
She dragged him out of the room.
Ross Mental punched the air rapidly. “I’ll stay too!”
he shouted. “My fuck-off tank will grind the rancid fuckers to a
Panman laughed. “Cool! The team’s assembled!”
The pounding on the blast door just outside the banqueting hall was getting
more and more frenetic.
“I think we’re going to have to leave immediately.”
Peter the Ace said. “Those hormonally charged girls are more excited
than ever!” He looked at Sarah Helmet and the warrior babes. “You’d
better get to your ships.”
Ross Mental yelled. “It’s time to fuck with the enemy!”
The foul-mouthed bounty hunter ran purposefully out of the room, his T-Uff-As-A-Rhino
Quality Back-Breaker boots pounding heavily on the luxury carpet. Sarah
Helmet and the warrior babes followed close behind. Their ships, the Satyr
and the Drug Abuser, were docked to the Blenheim’s topside and primed
for rapid separation and launch.
Peter the Ace directed his voice to the ship. “Blenheim, prepare
all systems for an immediate and stunning take-off.”
“EMERGENCY STARTUP SEQUENCE ACTIVATED…”
The two first-class bounty hunters left Jemima Murma to clear up and headed
for the bridge. Panman grabbed a plateful of deserts on his way out.
“Well, Ace,” Panman said as three Bavarian doughnuts found
their way into his mouth, “it appears that we have thwarted yet
another of Lawrence’s depraved and ludicrous attempts at galactic
“Indeed.” Peter the Ace said as they entered a turbo-lift.
The doors slid shut and the turbo-lift accelerated away. “And he
won’t be trying it again in a hurry.”
“Yeah!” Panman laughed, munching on a beetle bun. “He’ll
be spending the rest of his artificially extended life in the deepest,
darkest, dankest, dirtiest, most disgusting dungeon that the Palace of
Amino has to offer!”
The turbo-lift doors opened. The two bounty hunters stepped out and onto
the provocatively lit bridge. The main view-screen showed the Satyr and
the Drug Abuser thrusting away.
“Has Ross Mental left the ship?” Peter the Ace asked as he
leapt into his sumptuous command chair.
The Blenheim replied. “AFFIRMATIVE.”
Panman took his position at the weapons console and relaxed into his huge
leather seat. “I guess we can go then!”
“Indeed we can!”
Peter the Ace operated a few controls. A deep and throaty rumble passed
through the ship as one of the most powerful propulsion systems in the
known galaxy kicked in.
Panman grinned as he felt himself pushed far into his seat. There was
nothing more satisfying that one of the Blenheim’s incredible launches!