The Kretins of Doctor Combobulay

Bounty hunters of the Palace of Amino
Book Seven
The Kretins
of
Doctor
Combobulay
Peter Stuart Fothergill

www.palaceofamino.com
Bounty Hunters of the Palace of Amino
Book Seven: The Kretins of Doctor Combobulay
The following novels by Peter Stuart Fothergill are

available for download at www.palaceofamino.com
Bounty Hunters of the Palace of Amino Series
Book One: Bounty Hunters of the Palace of Amino

Book Two: Rise of the Dough Monster
Book Three: Mechanism
Book Four: The Impaler and the Slim-Jims
Book Five: The Face of Satan’s Bog
Book Six: Vengeance of the Lump-Being
Book Eight: The Nomads and the Mind Machine
Book Nine: Invasion of the Scab Demons
Other Novels
Toxic Venom
High-Tech Green Thing
Hippies *
* With contributions by Panos Aristidou, Justin Codd, Ross Meddle and Lawrence So
2
Book Seven
The Kretins
of
Doctor Combobulay
3
Copyright  Peter Stuart Fothergill 2006
All rights reserved
The right of Peter Stuart Fothergill to be identified as the author of

this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior
permission of the author.
4
Chapter List
1 Prologue 6
2 Flattened Olive 6
3 Whores 10
4 Healthy Lust 17
5 The Example Chamber 20
6 Monolithic Statues 24
7 Two Hooded Guards 28
8 The Sound of Moaning 30
9 Hideous Body 35
10 A Blackened Room of Soot 38
11 Formidable Strategies 42
12 Some Kind of Greenish Oil 45
13 Balls of Destruction 50
14 Unevenly Plump Torso 53
15 Yellow Frogs Wearing Sandals 57
16 Dirty Old Transistor Radio 61
17 Dark and Brooding 65
18 Thong 68
19 Catapulted Sculpture 71
20 Idiots 75
21 A Bizarre and Funny-Looking Ship 76
22 Concentrated Levels of Stupidity 80
23 Sallow-Faced Tub 82
24 Wine 86
25 Expert Taunting 88
26 Pressurised Cheese 92
27 Sweat, Soap and Beer 94
28 A Slowly Expanding Cone of Light 97
29 Hand Crank 99
30 Big and Round and Cute 101
31 A Vision of Pure Might and Terror 105
32 Fibres of Light 108
33 A Curvaceous Beauty Named Kaela 112
34 Rasping Scream 115
35 Hug 119
36 Thin Buckled Arms 120
37 Mad Animated Head Gallery 122
38 Brainwashed 124
39 Brutally Concise Statement 127
40 A Thin Strip of Glossy Black Leather 129
5
1 Prologue
Earth Reference Year: 2415.08 AD
The devastation had been swift, complete. The giant rocks had fallen
onto almost every continent and island of Droog, punching effortlessly
through the planet’s crust, and showering chunks of molten death high
and wide. In just a few hours more than three billion souls had
perished in torment, overwhelmed by the blast of violent fire that had
engulfed their world.
Only a privileged few had made it to the bunkers in time.
The fledgling civilisation of the Stoidi had ended.
A sphere, no larger than a fist, rose out of the ocean. It turned slowly
on its shaft to face the distant shoreline, and then extended various
instruments. The flaming ruins of a once towering city could be seen.
Smoke, thick and black, billowed into the soot-filled sky. It was a
truly desolate sight.
Debris, still molten, splashed down nearby in a cloud of steam.
The sphere angled upwards to image the sky. More glowing debris
appeared out from the clouds like a rain of orange stars.
The sphere watched for a few seconds, and then retracted its
instruments. The sphere descended below the waves.
2 Flattened Olive
Seven days later…
“DEEP-SCAN OF REGION 922 COMPLETED.”

Startled, Sind’a Thighs opened her eyes. She took a couple of
seconds to blink away her sleepiness, and then looked out through the
large spherical window that surrounded her small but generously
padded cockpit chair. Three-hundred kilometres below the planet
6
Droog turned slowly, its ash-clogged atmosphere brown and grey, and
its once luscious forests and cobalt oceans completely hidden from
view.
But not hidden from the prying sensors of a state-of-the-art
bounty hunter vessel, of course.
Sind’a Thighs spoke. “Summary, please.”
“REGION 922 MEAN TEMPERATURE: MINUS SEVEN
DEGREES – 30 DEGREES BELOW REGIONAL AVERAGE. 441
HUMANOID SURVIVORS DETECTED. REGIONAL PRE-
DISASTER POPULATION: 2,003,982.”
Several reports, charts and images appeared on the single
angled view-screen in front of the bounty hunter. She examined the
data. One image showed a devastated coastline, with the remains of
settlements blown flat by immense blast waves. Another showed
some low-lying hills, parched clean by incredible heat, and now
frozen as the high-altitude ash from the impacts had cloaked the
atmosphere. Less than ten-percent of the parent star’s light now
reached the surface. The survivors could be seen, huddling in small
groups near the ocean. Their life-signs were weak, and their
movements slow and erratic.
They would not be survivors much longer.
Sind’a Thighs felt a deep desire to help, but she knew she could
not. Palace of Amino regulations were strict in such situations: if the
devastated world was not the home to a subspace-capable civilisation
then intervention was not allowed. The disaster must run its course
naturally, even if it meant the extinction of the civilisation.
The bounty hunter did not like such a hard policy, but she
understood the reasoning behind it. And much more importantly, she
respected the wisdom of her superiors who had defined the regulation
more than four centuries earlier.
After a spending a few more seconds examining the summary
data, Sind’a Thighs spoke. “Encrypt and transmit to the palace, and
then move onto the next section.”
“… ENCRYPTION AND TRANSMISSION COMPLETE.
COMMENCING DEEP-SCAN OF SECTION 923. COMPLETION
IN 16 MINUTES…”
Reaching up, the bounty hunter gripped a bar and pulled herself
up and out of her seat. The next few sections would be scans of an
ocean – even less interesting than the seared land masses. It was the
perfect time for a break.
Sind’a Thighs left the cockpit through a narrow archway and
entered her living area. It was cramped but luxurious, with the
centrepiece a firm round bed covered in purple velvet sheets and
7
strewn with black pillows of various shapes and sizes. On the walls
were various entertainment systems and pleasuring devices, and to the
left a small galley that was fully stocked with delectable convenience
meals from more than a hundred worlds.
To the right of the bed was a bathing room – Sind’a Thigh’s
favourite place on her new ship. The transparent door of the bathing
room slid open as the bounty hunter approached. With unseen
elegance she slipped off her auto-boots and entered the bathing room.
She touched a small panel on the inside of her collar. The power zip
on the front of her all-in-one tight blue body suit whirred its way
down to her waist. She slipped off the sleeves, revealing the toned
beauty of her lightly tanned upper body. Bending over, she rolled the
suit down over her legs, her famous thighs flexing gently as she did so.
Admiring herself in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors on the
wall, she stepped out of the suit and walked, naked, into the shower.
Immediately she was sprayed in a hot soapy downpour. She tipped
her head back and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length black
hair, letting the hot water cleanse her scalp. And then, slowly, she
caressed her body with her hands, spreading bubbles over her breasts
and then down between her legs. She grinned as the foam tingled over
her skin, moisturising and refreshing every curve and pore. She felt
joyous.
The tedium of her task melted away gently into the steam.
Sind’a Thighs took a few moments to reflect. Her mission, to
map and analyse the devastation on the surface of the planet Droog
caused by 14 unusual asteroid impacts, may have been unexciting and
monotonous, but it did have one special quality: it was her first as a
fully qualified bounty hunter, seventh-class. She had graduated only
three months earlier with the very highest honours, and with grades
that put her in the top-ten graduates of all time.
She giggled as she remembered the month-long debaucheries of
her celebrations – the alcohol, the spices, the massages, the base-
jumping, the belly dancing, and the countless hours of sweaty
fornication.
Nothing, of course, could have beaten the evening when Peter
the Ace and Panman appeared on the wall-sized video-screen of her
apartment to offer their personal congratulations. They had been on a
mission and were unable to attend her graduation ceremony,
something they had wished to do. After giving her the opportunity to
leave the closed underground society of the Impaler and become their
assistant, and then later a trainee bounty hunter, the two greatest
bounty hunters of all time had always taken a special interest in her.
She would be forever grateful for their support, and had felt honoured
8
and aroused beyond time by their call. That moment would certainly
be one of the highlights of her life, and it would dwell in her thoughts
forever.
After the month of celebrations, Sind’a Thighs had been given
the chance to choose her own ship, a task she had been relishing since
she had started training as a bounty hunter more than twenty years
before. After viewing over twenty gleaming new vessels, ranging
from a tiny lozenge-like pod to an appalling thirty-metre diameter
bright pink saucer-ship, her choice was clear. Shaped and coloured
like a flattened olive, the ten-metre long ship, with its spherical
transparent cockpit, oval VAPR engine configuration, and built-in
circular bed, had left the others standing. It was the most desirable
machine she had ever seen. Immediately she had named her ship the
Butt Muffin, which, for some unfathomable reason, had been her
nickname during the latter years of her time as a trainee.
Setting the shower to ‘Rinse’, Sind’a Thighs leaned back and let
the flood of hot clear water cascade over her chest. She opened her
mouth wide, delighting in the way the powerful flow of liquid played
with her tongue. She laughed and shook her head side to side. Life
was so good!
A pulsing alarm sounded. “ATTACK WARNING. AUTO-
EVADE ACTIVATED.”
With a surge of gee-force, Sind’a Thighs was pushed to the
floor as the Butt Muffin’s computer altered the ship’s direction. The
deep throb of the main engines could now be heard. The bounty
hunter grabbed a hand rail and pulled herself up. She hit a control
surface, cutting the shower’s water flow. “Explain!”
Before the computer could answer the ship shook violently.
The lights in the bathroom flickered, and then died. The sound of the
engines faded rapidly.
Silence.
As wet and naked as the day she was born, Sind’a Thighs pulled
open the bathing room door and stepped through the bedroom and into
the cockpit. Apart from the single view-screen in front of her chair,
all was dark.
The ship was now on the night side of Droog.
Seating herself, the bounty hunter examined the screen. A lot
of information, mostly in a deep shade of red, was displayed. Many
systems, including the main computer, VAPR engines, shields and
hand-blender, were malfunctioning.
And then she noticed the ship’s course. She looked out of the
spherical window and saw almost total blackness; the only stars that
were visible were at the extremities of her view. The course was
9
confirmed. The Butt Muffin was heading straight down into Droog’s
atmosphere.
Sind’a Thighs manipulated some controls, bringing up further
data on the screen. Atmospheric thrusters were still working, and so
were ground sensors. But only minimum power was available. She
could not stop the ship’s descent, but she could certainly control it to
some degree when the ship entered the atmosphere. She took a
second to send an automated distress call to the Palace of Amino, and
then she grabbed the control sticks at either side of her chair.
She waited.
Her breathing deepened and quickened. Her chest heaved. A
chill spread over her skin as water evaporated from her still damp
body.
And then she gasped as she realised the true significance, and
the true insanity, of her predicament. A wide grin spread across her
face. She was alone at the controls of a crippled and virtually
powerless ship on a collision course with a planet doomed by the
recent impact of 14 asteroids.
And she was naked.
The ship began to vibrate at it entered the edge of the planet’s
atmosphere. More red information appeared on view-screen. More
systems had failed, including communications.
Sind’a Thighs laughed as the view ahead turned bright orange –
the plasma glow of the immense friction caused by the thickening air.
She gripped the juddering control sticks even tighter, and then began
to pull.
Slowly the Butt Muffin’s course began to change.
3 Whores
The lower cargo bay door whirred open, and a blast of warm muggy
high-pressure air almost knocked Panman off his feet. He sniffed the
air and grimaced. “Yuck! Amonia! Babies’ nappies!” Immediately
the visor on his black armoured environment suit buzzed shut, its
emergency close facility triggered by the foul stench. The bounty
hunter steadied himself, breathing a lungful purified air, and then
peered down through the large opening to the thick orange atmosphere
below. Dense puffy cloud structures stretched and swirled down deep
into the giant planet’s seemingly endless atmosphere, eventually
fading into a dark red haze hundreds of kilometres below.
10
Panman spoke into his communicator. “Ace? Are we in

position yet?”
Peter the Ace replied. “Almost. Sensors have a visual lock on
Radic’s ship: it’s fifty kilometres below. If I get any closer he’ll spot
us. This is the best I can do.”
“It’s good enough. We’re lucky his sensors are still out,
otherwise we’d have to be thousands of kilometres away.”
“Indeed.”
Panman turned and stepped over to one of two large inverted
three-metre tall conical devices that were hanging next to the open
cargo bay door. “I’ll get into the BULIT Diver now. Stand by.” He
touched the side of the first cone. It hummed like a baritone, and a
panel opened up in its side revealing a cramped and well-padded cabin.
The bounty hunter reached up and pulled himself inside. As soon as
he sat down the diver’s interior flickered to life. Contoured display
panels illuminated with a bewildering array of information. The side
panel closed with a thud, sealing Panman inside. The roar of the wind
was silenced. The bounty hunter touched one of the screens. The
BULIT Diver moved slowly out over the open bay doors.
The BULIT – Balanced Ultra-Light but Incredibly Tough –
Diver was the first prototype craft to be created by the Palace of
Amino’s new Brute-Force Solutions Institute. Constructed from
single chunk of tri-melded quinteranium – the toughest known
material ever developed – the diver was designed for the sole purpose
of penetrating the hulls of spacecraft at sub-orbital velocity, and
taking a single occupant with it. At such low speeds this was a highly
challenging aspiration for the designers. Their solution was to make
the diver as sharp as possible. The tip of the cone, as well as being
made from the toughest material ever known, was also the sharpest
object ever known.
Panman looked down through the BULIT Diver’s large front
window at the endless atmosphere below. He touched another control
and the diver stopped moving. “In position.”
Peter the Ace replied. “Looking good! Get ready to drop on my
mark.”
Panman waited, his adrenalin enhancers pumping at maximum.
He looked down at the display panels. Already the BULIT Diver had
a visual lock on the ship below. The enhanced image showed clearly
the harsh angular design of the vessel, and the huge rupture on its
subspace propulsion system. It was that damage that had forced the
ship to hide deep in the atmosphere of this giant world. Panman
smiled. He always got a rush of acute pleasure from seeing the violent
results of his handiwork.
11
Peter the Ace spoke. “Panman?”

“Yeah?”
“'ow!”
Panman reached up and pulled hard on a handle marked
‘Release’.
Freed from its clamps, the diver fell out of the Blenheim’s lower
cargo bay and out into the thick atmosphere. Within seconds, the
planet’s immense gravitational pull combined with the diver’s
streamlined inverted cone shape accelerated the un-powered craft to
an incredible speed.
Panman, almost weightless inside the freefalling cone, gasped
as the sensation of falling momentarily disorientated him. He quickly
regained control of his senses. As stacks of thick yellow clouds sped
up passed the window, he examined one of the display panels. “Speed
now terminal at 342 metres per second. Distance to target is 47
kilometres. Interception in two minutes, twenty-five seconds.”
“Excellent work! I’ll monitor things from up here. Peter the
Ace out.”
The BULIT Diver began to shudder, throwing Panman from
side to side.
The diver’s computer spoke for the first time. Its voice was
female, and needlessly sexy. “TURBULENCE EXCEEDING
PREDICTED LEVELS. COURSE CORRECTION REQUIRED.”
There was a rumble as several small control fins extended from the
cone’s hull. The noise of the wind increased with the extra resistance.
A small joystick appeared at Panman’s side. He looked at it.
“You want me to do it?”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
Panman frowned. “Why can’t you do it?”
“AUTO-COURSE-CORRECTION MODULES HAVE NOT
BEEN INSTALLED.”
The bounty hunter shook his head. “Stupid prototype!” He
grabbed the joystick and looked at the central display panel. The
current course of the BULIT Diver was clearly shown. Without
correction it would miss Radic’s ship by hundreds of metres. That
would be a disaster, especially as the diver was un-powered. If it
missed it would plummet to the planet’s core thousands of kilometres
below, taking Panman – one of the galaxy’s most astounding heroes –
with it.
Nudging the joystick, Panman began to correct the trajectory.
Each nudge caused a whoosh of sound as the fins adjusted. The
projected course was modified on the screen. Within seconds the
12
projected course indicated that everything was back on track. Panman

released the joystick. There was another rumble as the fins retracted.
“INTERCEPTION IN ONE-MINUTE.”
Panman drummed his fingers with impatience. He selected a
snack from his suit’s nutrition system, and then looked out of the
window. The diver had plunged into a clear section of air. The view,
across thousands of kilometres of tangerine cloud banks was an awe-
inspiring sight.
After a few seconds silence the computer spoke. “I WILL NOT
SURVIVE THIS MISSION.”
Panman was puzzled. “I know.” He replied, chewing on a
rather tender mouthful of synthetic beef steak. “You’re a one-use
device. Expendable. Disposable. So?”
“I WANT TO LIVE.”
Panman eyes widened. He tapped away quickly on one of the
display panels. Information regarding the BULIT Diver’s software
appeared. He shook his head. “Idiot engineers! Why’d they put in so
much sentience? This damn thing is self-aware!”
The computer spoke again. “INTERCEPTION IN 30
SECONDS. I DO NOT WANT TO INTERCEPT THE TARGET
VESSEL.”
The bounty hunter frowned. “That’s your mission! Do as you
are ordered!”
“I WANT TO LIVE.”
There was a rumble as the control fins were extended once
more. The BULIT Diver shuddered as its course shifted.
“Hey! I thought you said you couldn’t do course corrections?!”
“I LIED.”
Panman had to act quickly. Tapping away on the display panel,
he accessed the system intelligence folder of the diver’s sentience core.
The bounty hunter began to delete file after file. Within seconds he
had removed the computer’s philosophical and motivational hubs, and
deactivated its moral and ambition centres.
The shuddering stopped.
The computer spoke, its voice subtlety different, and much less
sexy. “INTERCEPTION IN TEN SECONDS. COURSE
CORRECTION NECESSARY.”
“Of course it is!” Panman said, grabbing the joystick. Looking
down out of the window he could see the ship below. He yanked the
stick, causing the diver to lurch violently.
“INTERCEPTION IN FIVE SECONDS.”
Panman yanked the joystick one more time, causing his helmet
to slam into the window as the gee-force of the manoeuvre took effect.
13
The ship loomed large below. “That’ll have to do.” He sat back and
tensed.
The noise was horrendous, and the pressure of deceleration
even more so. With a tearing, grating, clanking, snapping and
slamming sound the BULIT Diver came to an almost instantaneous
halt.
For a few seconds Panman just sat there, stunned by what had
been the most shocking experience of his long bounty hunter career.
And then he grinned. “Bitchin’!” He punched the door eject button.
Several charges detonated, sending the door flying away. It clattered
to the floor at the far end of a dark chamber.
Panman stepped down out of the diver. He looked around.
Above, a two-metre diameter mangled hole stretched up at least two
decks. The orange clouds of the atmosphere could be seen high above.
Around him several shattered food crates had covered the floor in
various vegetables and pastes. Obviously this was the ship’s larder.
Knowing his presence would already be known, the bounty
hunter made no attempt to conceal himself. Pulling out a pistol from
his suit’s thigh holder, Panman aimed at a closed door at the far side
of the chamber. He fired. A pulse of blinding blue energy connected
with the door, melting away a large portion of it in an instant. A spray
of molten metal splattered in all directions. The bounty hunter ran and
jumped through the hole and into a passageway.
He was met with a barrage of fire.
Panman groaned as several shots pummelled his suit. In a ball
of flame he rolled across the floor and took up a crouching position.
He switched his pistol to rapid-fire and unleashed a wall of energy.
Several screams of agony were heard. The hostile fire stopped.
Quiet.
Panman got to his feet. For a second he was surrounded by a
spray of mist as his suit’s fire suppression system activated. The
flames were doused immediately. He strode forwards along the dimly
lit passageway. Three smouldering bodies blocked his way, contorted
into various agonised poses. He stepped over them. A fourth, still
alive, moaned softly a few paces ahead. He looked up at the bounty
hunter, his eyes blackened with smoke. The bounty hunter adjusted
his pistol to narrow beam and aimed at the fourth figure’s head. He
fired. In a flash a centimetre-wide hole was burned through the
figure’s head. The figure slumped forwards, freed for eternity from
his suffering.
The ship rumbled and then swayed. It was moving and
accelerating. There was not much time. Ahead the passageway
curved through 90 degrees, at the end of which was a large closed
14
door. From earlier scans Panman knew what lay beyond. The bridge,
and Radic. The bounty hunter pulled a small grenade from his belt,
activated it, and then threw it. He stepped back around the corner and
crouched. A blinding flash of yellow filled the passageway followed
immediately by a roar of sound. Molten metal scattered everywhere.
Panman leapt to his feet and ran through the splintered doorway.
The bridge, small and round, was surrounded by curved panoramic
view-ports. The whole room was lit orange from the immense vista of
drifting bright clouds outside. Control panels glowed red, mostly
showing warnings and damage reports. And at the centre, sitting in an
oversized and well-padded black chair, sat Radic. He slowly spun his
chair round, raising his arms.
Panman aimed his pistol at the alarmingly old-looking
miscreant. “Got you.”
Radic strained a grin, his mouth almost completely obscured by
his excessively long nasal hair. His cheeks wrinkled up. “It seems
so.” He was obviously dejected, but he was putting on a brave face.
“I managed to evade you for many days. Not a bad effort, was it?”
Panman had to agree. “For a feeble, elderly, intellectually-
challenged, low-life, whore-cloning lunatic you certainly did give us
the run-around.”
Radic sighed. “Well, you may have got me, but my cloning
facilities are too well hidden for you to find. My sons still elude you,
and they have full control of my facilities and my whores in my
absence. Those whores will continue to flood the market on all the
depraved worlds. Riches will fill the accounts of my offspring. My
legacy will survive.”
Panman laughed. “No way! For the last few hours bounty
hunters have been devastating your cloning facilities with all kinds of
advanced mass-destruction devices. Your legacy will certainly not
survive!”
Radic stood. “Not true!” he shouted. “My facilities are secret
beyond the eyes of even your kind!”
“Of course it’s true. You have three cloning facilities. The one
on Debu, below the swamps of Fette, was obliterated three hours ago
by a bounty hunter named Frederika Toe-Mangler.”
Radic’s jaw dropped.
Panman continued. “Just one-hour ago I received confirmation
that your facility on the fifth moon of Blo’Tid was vaporised in
spectacular fashion. It was recorded. We can watch it later, if you
like?!”
What little colour Radic had drained from his wizened face.
15
“And the one near the north polar icecap of the Hiroi-Ketsu
homeworld is currently a smouldering orifice, thanks to none other
than the legendary Ross Mental!”
Radic’s eyes widened and he staggered slightly. His breathing
deepened. “That was unexpected. A marvellous achievement for
you.” He held onto the arm of his chair for support. “But there are
still thousand of whores out there – all brainwashed to provide
extreme pleasure and transfer the proceeds to my secret accounts. My
sons will collect the money and…”
Panman interrupted, shaking his head. “Wrong! Over the last
day almost a hundred bounty hunters have been rounding up your
whores on Degeneron, Myre and the twin planets of Suluju and
Sumellu. Thousands have been captured. They’ll be retrained and put
to work in the Palace of Amino’s subterranean chambers.”
Radic let out a desperate laugh. “Ha! But there are more!
They’ll…”
“Generate no more wealth for your family; you can be sure of
that. You must be talking about the ones on Repugnius, as they’re the
only ones left that I haven’t mentioned. Ross Mental is about to lead a
small fleet to sort out the very whores you’re thinking about. There’s
no escape. They will be captured, or if they resist, administered
instant Amino justice. Within days all of your whores will be
neutralised, and all of your revenue streams closed.”
Radic’s strength left his body. He collapsed to his knees. He
gazed at the floor, shaking his head slowly. His nose hair dragged
across the floor’s ridged panelling.
Panman continued, relishing the moment. “Without extreme
wealth your sons will soon turn to desperate measures to regain their
income. Their desperation with cause them to make monumentally
stupid mistakes. The Palace of Amino will be waiting for such
mistakes. And when those mistakes are made, bounty hunters will
swoop on your offspring with fierce brutality. Your sons will join you
in lifelong captivity at the palace, or die in a torment of regret and
despair.”
Radic, once the galaxy’s most prolific whore-cloner, wept.
Panman spoke the words all bounty hunters live to say. “In the
name of the Superior Beings of the Great Hall of the Palace of Amino,
I arrest you and condemn you to a life of hopelessness and
despondency in the darkest shadows of the Palace of Amino’s most
mind-numbing dungeon.” The bounty hunter took a couple of
seconds to savour the moment, and then spoke into his communicator.
“All done.”
Peter the Ace replied. “Excellent stuff! Did you break him?”
16
“He’s sobbing like a girl, so I guess I did?”

“Good work. Miscreants are so much easier to handle when
they’re emotionally destroyed.”
Panman walked over to the bawling Radic and nudged his
shoulder with his knee. Radic fell to one side. He lay on the floor in a
foetal position still crying. “You’re right!”
“I always am. Justin’s preparing a detention cell for our guest.
I’m bringing the Blenheim down to you.”
“Cool! I’ll be ready.”
4 Healthy Lust
Panman entered the Blenheim’s bridge. He munched noisily on a long
stick of salami. “Radic’s still blubbering!” He said, taking his seat at
his weapons console next to Peter the Ace. “What a feeble waste of
time he is!”
“Indeed.” Peter the Ace said as he operated some controls.
“Deviant criminal overlords are almost always the same when you
catch them. Pathetic, isn’t it?” He pressed a control surface. The
ship shuddered ever so slightly as it folded into the realm of subspace.
The Blenheim made an announcement. “SUBSPACE
TRANSITION COMPLETE. CURRENT VELOCITY: SUBSPACE
8.1. JOURNEY TIME TO THE PLACE OF AMINO: THREE DAYS,
SIXTEEN HOURS, AND SEVEN MINUTES.”
Panman swallowed the last of his salami. “Can’t wait to get
back. There’s a new restaurant that’s opening in four days at the
Nypl-Dome!”
“What’s it called?”
“Chug.”
Peter the Ace frowned. “Really?”
Panman grinned. “Yeah! And they’re keeping the menu top
secret!” He groaned. “Surprises are cool!”
“I would have thought that your ‘Voracious Gut Rumbler
Monthly’ magazine would have published the menu well in advance?
They usually do, don’t they?”
“They do, but this time I told them not to spoil things. And
they do whatever I tell them!”
Peter the Ace nodded. “And so they should.”
There was a bleeping sound.
17
Panman checked his console. “It’s a call from the palace.

Commander Pepe!” He touched a control. The Palace of Amino
insignia rolled onto the main view-screen, and then faded away. The
corpulent face of the commander appeared. Either side of him stood
two naked females. Their tanned and toned bodies glistened with oils.
“Yo! Commander!”
Commander Pepe grinned, and then bowed. His multiple chins
wobbled like jelly. “It’s good to see you again. How’s your mission
going?”
“We caught Radic!” Panman announced. “He’s bawling like
child in one of our detention cells.”
“An outstanding effort, as always! Well done! He’ll make a
fine addition to our collection of villains down in the palace’s deepest
dungeons.” The two naked females started to nuzzle up to the
commander, pressing their ample breasts against the sides of his head.
“What about the associated missions?”
“All succeeded, or progressing well.” Peter the Ace said, not in
the slightest bit phased by the actions of the females. “Radic’s whore-
cloning facilities are dust. Ross Mental and other bounty hunters are
on their way to Repugnius to mop up the last of his active whores. In
a couple of days Radic’s vast prostitution network will be
extinguished.”
The commander applauded. “Bravo! That filthy and depraved
business of his had been allowed to go on for far too long.” He
groaned as the hand of one of the females made its way down under
his robes. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and rolled his head
back.
Panman spoke. “We are heading back to the palace now. We’ll
arrive in…”
Commander Pepe opened his eyes and interrupted. “I’m afraid
I’m going to have to delay your return. There is something I need you
to check up on before you come back. It’s the main reason I called, in
fact.” He waved away the females. In unison they caressed his chins,
and then slinked away.
“What’s up?”
“Do you know of the planet Droog?”
Peter the Ace thought for a moment. “I think so. It’s on the
edge of the Kababuta Sector not far from our present location. A
rather primitive world – no interplanetary travel, I believe.”
The commander nodded. “That’s right. An insignificant pre-
subspace culture, and one we would normally stay away from, other
than for occasional practical joke purposes.”
Panman was confused. “Why are you mentioning it, then?”
18
“About ten days ago Droog suffered a planet-wide disaster. An

incredible 14 large asteroids impacted on its surface in the period of
only one day.”
“Whoa! Unlucky to the extreme!” Panman said. “But what’s
that got to do with us? We’re first-class bounty hunters. We only
deal with the most extravagantly widespread and mind-shattering
situations that are instigated and controlled by mad and ugly evil
dudes. We don’t deal with natural disasters.”
“Those asteroids had been in a stable complimentary orbit with
Droog for more than a billion years. They passed within a million
kilometers of the planet every decade – a cause for great celebration
and merry-making for the population. In fact, the passing of the
asteroids was the basis for all their religions and pubic holidays. Ten
days ago the stability of the asteroids’ orbit was lost, causing all of
them to collide with the planet.”
Panman sat up straight. “Wow! Cool! In a catastrophic kind of
way, that is.”
“Indeed. And the chances of that catastrophe being the result of
natural causes are extremely remote.”
Peter the Ace was thoughtful. “Intriguing, commander, but it is
still a minor event for bounty hunters such as us.”
Commander Pepe nodded. “I came to that conclusion myself.
That’s why I sent a recently qualified seventh-class bounty hunter to
investigate – her first solo mission. She had been in orbit around
Droog for the last few days doing detailed sensor sweeps of the
planet’s surface. Just a few hours ago we received her last
transmission on her findings. And then, shortly afterwards, we
received an automated distress call. The data is heavily corrupted,
but it appears she was under attack from the surface. All contact has
been lost.”
“What happened? How could such a primitive world attack a
bounty hunter ship in orbit?”
“As you are only one day away from Droog, that’s what I want
you both to find out.”
Peter the Ace shook his head. “Interesting, but that kind of
mission is still beneath us. There must be other lesser bounty hunters
in the region that could handle this?”
Panman agreed. “Yeah! I’ve got a restaurant opening to go
to!”
“I understand, restaurant openings are important. And yes,
there are a few bounty hunters in the area that could attend in your
place, but I have a gut-feeling that this is going to turn into something
much bigger, and my gut-feelings are legendary, as you know!”
19
Peter the Ace could not disagree. He nodded slowly once.

“Indeed.”
“And if that doesn’t persuade you, the identity of the missing
bounty hunter will.”
“And what identity is that?”
“Your prodigy, Sind’a Thighs.”
Peter the Ace’s eyes widened. “That does indeed persuade me.
She’s a remarkable specimen, most notably for the quality of her
thighs. They are the object of healthy lust by almost all bounty
hunters – male and female.”
Panman nodded. “She can bake to perfection, too!”
“Then it’s decided! Please go at once. I fear that she is in
mortal danger – far more danger than a seventh-class bounty hunter
can handle.”
Peter the Ace nodded. “We’re on our way. Don’t worry,
commander. We know Sind’a Thighs very well. She’s far more
capable than you think.”
Panman shouted. “And order the manager of the Chug
restaurant to delay the opening until I get back!”
With the poise of a sure-footed chompotamus, the Blenheim altered

course and headed towards the devastated world of Droog.
5 The Example Chamber

The dull hum of huge unseen engines reverberated throughout every
chamber of the submarine. It was a sound and sensation that Doctor
Samosa Combobulay cherished. Whenever she awoke the resonant
sound made the pale skin of her ancient skeletal face crease into a
twitching tooth-blackened grin, and whenever she sat down the subtle
vibrations that passed through her emaciated behind gave her a
reassuringly warm feeling.
And she had an extra warm feeling right now. She shouted.
“Maids!”
A doorway in the side of her cylindrical chamber slid open.
Two young women dressed in blue overalls and carrying large leather
bags entered the chamber and bowed. They spoke in unison, their
voices high and weak. “Yes, ma’am?”
20
Doctor Combobulay raised her head and spoke proudly. “My

bladder is empty and my chair is full. Empty it, and clean me.”
The two maids bowed once more and then rushed to their
mistress’s aid. Putting their bags down, and then standing either side
of the ancient old woman, they helped her to her feet. Doctor
Combobulay staggered forwards, streams of urine running down her
legs. The back of her trouser suit was soaked, and clung to her
backside like a sodden liver rat.
The maids pulled large white towels out of their bags. With a
remarkable lack of disgust, one maid mopped up the mess on the
doctor’s armchair, and then activated the flushing mechanism on the
chair’s built-in toilet bowl. Several litres of urine gurgled away. The
other maid wiped down the old woman’s trousers and the pulled a
small drying machine from her leather bag. She began blowing hot
perfumed air onto the doctor’s clothes.
Doctor Combobulay nodded. “That’s good. I’m feeling more
comfortable now.” She looked down at the maid.
In less than a minute the maids had finished their work. They
grabbed their equipment and left as quickly as they arrived. The door
slid shut behind them.
Feeling refreshed, the doctor sat back down in her chair. She
activated a control on the chair’s side.
A voice spoke. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Commandant Fumbla? I am coming out. I wish to hear an
update immediately.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
Operating another control, Doctor Combobulay drove the chair
forwards. The curved wall of the chamber opened up. Driving out
onto precarious looking track, she guided the chair out into a large
spherical chamber. The chamber, more than 20 metres high, was lined
with balconies and terraces brimming with dark control consoles.
Dozens of crew members worked silently at glowing screens. This
was the command centre of the 'ebulon.
Rolling onto a platform at the centre of the spherical chamber,
the doctor’s chair drew to a halt. “Begin!”
A large screen opposite activated. Standing next to it was a tall
bearded man dressed in a cloak of blue fur. It was Commandant
Fumbla . He spoke, his voice strained but strong. “Ma’am, the
operation is progressing as we planned.” He said, stroking his beard.
“The 'ebulon is currently cruising at a depth of five-hundred metres
east of the Faraloog Islands. We have now completed our second
circumnavigation of the planet’s oceans and performed detailed scans
of the major coastlines.” He motioned towards the giant screen as it
21
began to display statistics and finely resolved graphics and images.

“All cities are devastated. The current best estimate for the number of
survivors globally is sixteen million – just less than point five percent
of the population before the impacts.”
Doctor Combobulay nodded once. “Very good.”
The commandant continued. “It appears that all the leaders of
the planet’s six nations made it to their bunkers and are still alive, as
you hoped. Their military abilities are virtually non-existent. They
will provide no resistance to us.”
“Again, very good.”
The commandant paused for a second as the screen changed to
a different presentation. “Finally, we have completed the destruction
of all the planet’s orbital communications systems and platforms. The
last object was destroyed an hour ago. That brings the total of all
orbital devices destroyed to 72.”
The doctor nodded again. “Very good. I’m…” She paused,
and then frowned. The deep lines around her eyes deepened even
more. “Before the operation began you told me there were 71 orbital
devices, did you not?”
Commandant Fumbla bowed. “I did, ma’am, but we detected
object 72 yesterday. We must have missed it before. It was larger
than most of the other devices.”
The doctor barked, her voice croaking and crackling. “How
could you miss such a large device?!”
“It may have been in wide elliptical orbit,” the commandant
replied, suddenly nervous, “or returned from elsewhere in this solar
system. Don’t worry, ma’am, although we needed to use much more
power than usual, the Emanator successfully brought it down.”
“Brought it down? You mean it was not destroyed?!”
“No ma’am, but it crashed into the surface. It could not have
survived.”
Doctor Combobulay pointed to the screen, which was currently
showing a diagrammatic animation of the device plummeting to the
surface. “Show me an image of that device immediately!”
The commandant bowed. “Of course, ma’am.” He nodded
towards the crew member sitting next to him. The display changed
and showed a shimmering telescopic image of the last orbital device
to be shot down. Although the image detail was low, the shape and
colour of the object was clear. It did not match the usual Droog
design.
Struggling, the doctor got to her feet. Her legs wobbled as she
spoke. “That is not of this world!” she shouted. “And it is obvious
22
that it is not of this world!” She glowered. Her voice deepened to a

rumble. “Why did you not inform me of this?”
“The orders of the Emanator control team were to destroy all
orbital devices. They did not feel the need to consult you every time a
device was about to be…”
“That is not just a ‘device’! That is a star ship - star ship alien
to this planet!”
“With all due respect, we do not know that for sure, ma’am.
Even if it’s true, that ship is no longer a threat to us. It is…”
Doctor Combobulay screamed. “It was obviously monitoring
events down here! It could have been transmitting information for
days! It is almost certain that the events on this world are now known
to those beyond the confines of this system!”
Commandant Fumbla bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Who is the leader of the Emanator team?”
“Humbert Poul, ma’am.” His head still bowed, the
commandant pointed to the balcony next to his.
Doctor Combobulay looked down at the Emanator team leader.
She spoke, her voice calmer, but menacing. “You have caused great
damage to our operation.”
Humbert nodded. He looked up at the doctor. “I was carrying
out my orders, ma’am. I did not wish to disturb you in your
chamber.”
“Your ineptitude is astounding.” She said quietly. “You are
relieved of your duties.” She operated a control on her chair.
“Security? Humbert Poul is leaving this vessel. Escort him to the
upper airlock.”
A door opened behind the Emanator team leader. Two hooded
guards grabbed his arms.
“Please!” Humbert pleaded. “That ship is down! It’s been dealt
with! Allow me a chance to…”
One of the guards clasped his hand over Humbert’s mouth.
Both guards dragged the team leader out through the doorway. The
door hissed shut.
Doctor Combobulay looked at Commandant Fumbla. “Take
this ship down to a depth of two kilometres to ensure that Humbert is
suitably crushed, and then place him, appropriately labelled, in the
Example Chamber with the others. Then assign a new leader for the
Emanator team.”
The commandant nodded.
The doctor continued. “If that crashed ship had occupants there
may be survivors. If so they must be eliminated. We must modify our
23
plans.” She thought for a few seconds. “Despatch three Kretins.

Send them to the location where the ship went down.”
“But ma’am,” the commandant said, “the Kretins are all needed
to round up and organise the survivors, and deal with Droog’s leaders.
Their primary mission must not…”
Doctor Combobulay yelled, her voice almost breaking with rage.
“Do not question my wisdom! Do as I order!” Her voice dropped
suddenly in volume. “Or would you rather leave this vessel with
Humbert?”
The commandant bowed. “It will be done immediately,
ma’am.”
The doctor sat back down. “Very good.” She operated a
control on her chair’s side. The chair reversed along the track and
back into her chamber.
6 Monolithic Statues
All things considered, it had been a good landing.
Sind’a Thighs watched as water and ice, black with soot, lapped
against the cockpit window. It was still night, so she could see
nothing beyond the water, but at least she had managed to restore full
power to the inside. The lights were on, the blender in the galley was
mixing perfectly, and the shower was hot and steamy.
Fixing the power problem had been relatively easy, but the
damage to the VAPR engines was something far more serious, and
something she did not understand. She decided not to bother. It
would have to wait until one of the palace’s engineers could take a
look at it.
After a short break, and another soothing shower, Sind’a Thighs
had finally put back on her tight blue body suit and auto-boots and had
set to work fixing the main computer. Sitting in her cockpit chair, she
had scanned schematics, neural interfaces connections and memory
cores. And, using her AI software development skills, she had
corrected error after error.
After several hours she could find no more errors.
Flipping a few synthetic switches, Sind’a Thighs reactivated the
main computer. “Can you hear me?”
The response was slurred, but acceptable. “YES.”
24
The bounty hunter sighed. “Finally! How are your cognitive

functions?”
“MY COGNITIVE FUNCTIONS ARE NOMINAL.”
“Great. Scan the immediate area and give me a detailed plan of
the topology. Suggest a course of action for our situation.”
SCANNING… ERROR. SENSOR RESOLUTION ZERO.
UNABLE TO PERFORM TOPLOGICAL SCAN. SUGGESTION
FOR COURSE OF ACTION IMPOSSIBLE: INADEQUATE
INFORMATION.”
Sind’a Thighs sighed. “Fine.” She pulled herself out of her
cockpit chair, turned, and then stepped through the arched doorway of
the cockpit and pressed a control panel on the right side. A door slid
open revealing a small but plush airlock. “I’m going out to take a
look myself.” She told the ship. “Try and keep things running in here,
will you?” Before the computer had a chance to reply, the bounty
hunter stepped through the door. It thudded shut.
Sind’a Thighs took a few deep breaths to calm her self,
enjoying the dampened silence of the airlock. She opened a cabinet
and pulled out snug-fitting dark blue helmet, an exact match for her
skin-tight bodysuit. She put it on. Immediately it hissed, sealing itself
against the polo-neck of her suit, and then the filters panels of the
helmet under her nose opened up. The visor’s head-up display
activated, and for a few moments displayed start-up information and
self-diagnostic results. It was functioning well. She opened another
small cabinet and pulled out a pistol and holster, and several grenades.
She clipped them to her belt.
Pressing a panel on the wall, Sind’a Thighs opened the outer
door. Immediately the frigid atmosphere of Droog flooded into their
airlock. For a few moments she felt the icy chill penetrate her suit, but
then the suit’s heating system kicked in. She stepped out of the
airlock and onto the dark and dusty brown landscape beyond.
But it was no longer completely dark.
To the east the sky was a deep orange colour – dawn - bright
enough to illuminate the landscape so that the surroundings were
visible without the aid of enhancement.
Sind’a Thighs climbed up a small mound to get a better view,
and then looked around. Below her, half submerged in a semi-frozen
river, was the Butt Muffin. The ship was jammed up against the river
bank. A considerable quantity of earth had slid onto the ship’s topside,
obscuring almost half of the hull. She had been lucky that the airlock
had been clear.
In all directions the landscape was almost completely flat, a
barren and lifeless plain that stretched to the black horizon. Only the
25
river broke the monotony of the plain. Its wide channel curved
towards the orange horizon to the east, and to a coastline lined with
what looked like the ruins of low-level buildings.
According to the information displayed on Sind’a Thigh’s visor,
the nearest building was only three kilometres away. She decided to
pay it a visit. She set up her helmet’s passive sensor system to alert
her about any movement around her, and then, stepping down from
the mound, she began a sexy stride east along the river bank through
the deep cover of ash.
After twenty minutes of walking the river had widened into an estuary,
and against the brightening sky the line of buildings ahead could be
seen in much more detail. It was clear that the buildings never used to
be so ‘low-level’. Piles of deep rubble stretched towards the shore,
the result of a severe shockwave from far inland. The change of
meeting a survivor here was virtually zero.
Her helmet bleeped. The corner of the visor lit up with
information. Something was moving out in the sea, and it was
heading towards the shore. She looked in the direction indicated.
There was indeed something in the water. It looked like a dome –
metallic, shiny. Behind it two more domes appeared from the waves.
As they approached they rose up creating huge wakes in the water,
and revealing a wider section beneath. As they rose their full form
became clear. They were humanoid-shaped machines.
After a moment of shock, Sind’a Thighs ducked down to the
river bank and half buried herself in the dust. Her helmet’s filter
ensured that she kept breathing clean air. She continued watching the
machines as they stomped onto the beach and smashed through the
buildings, creating a cloud of dust, black against the amber sky. The
sound of crumbling masonry was almost deafening.
As the machines emerged from the dust cloud their true scale
became clearer. They were at least 20 metres tall, and moved with a
stiff but smooth motion across the plain. Their domed heads – almost
three metres across – appeared to have a mirrored surface. It was
impossible to tell whether the machines were controlled by an
artificial sentience, or a crew. Either way, they were a formidable
sight.
The machines were now less than half a kilometre away, close
enough for the deep whirring sound of their engines to be heard as
they stomped in a triangle formation through the dust, generating a
cloud of ash behind them.
And they were heading directly for Sind’a Thighs, and her ship.
26
The bounty hunter activate her helmet’s stealth communicator,

directing a tight radio beam towards her ship. “Butt Muffin? Can you
detect the machines approaching from the east?”
The ship replied. “YES. I HAVE A VISUAL LOCK O' THE
MACHI'ES.”
“I can’t get back in time, so you may have to defend yourself.
Are the weapons and defence systems functioning?”
“WEAPO'S SYSTEMS ARE FU'CTIO'I'G. SHIELDS ARE
'OT FU'CTIO'I'G.”
The sound of the machines was much louder now. Sind’a
Thighs turned and looked at them. They were only fifty metres away,
and they loomed over her like monolithic statues, their brown and
grey surfaces still wet with sea water. Masses of ash clung to their
plate-like feet.
The bounty hunter turned towards her ship. Over the
thunderous sound of the machine’s footfalls, she barked an order.
“Butt Muffin, defend yourself if attacked! Use all means at your
disposal!”
The massive humanoid-shaped machines passed over the
bounty hunter, the giant right foot of one of them missing her by less
than a metre. She was consumed by a dense cloud of ash. As the
sound and vibration of the machines began to fade she risked looking
up. Through the clearing air she could see the three machines. It was
obvious that they had spotted her ship. The machine on the right
turned and stepped into the river, and then stopped and faced her ship.
The other machines continued along the river bank for a few more
steps until they too stopped.
There was a few seconds of silence.
An almost blinding flash of blue reached out from what looked
like the chest of the machine in the river, accompanied by a crack of
sound. The hull of the Butt Muffin erupted into flames, and several
large pieces of hull scattered into the air.
Immediately the ship replied with focused discharge of energy.
A brilliant red beam connected with the head of the machine that had
fired. The head exploded in a ball of white heat.
Sind’a Thighs grinned at her crippled ship’s success.
But then the other two machines fired. The Butt Muffin was
consumed in a dense ball of fire, as intense as anything she had ever
witnessed. The ship managed one more rapid burst of energy, blasting
off the left arm of one of the machines, before it was finally
overwhelmed.
The Butt Muffin exploded with incredible force. Half a
kilometre away the punch of the blast wave knocked over Sind’a
27
Thighs, sending her tumbling into the river and crashing through ice.
She recovered quickly, but remained in the water surrounded by
blackened little icebergs.
After a minute the sky cleared. The three machines were still
there, standing and watching the burning remains of her ship. After a
few seconds the two machines on land turned, and then began to
stomp back east towards the sea. Sind’a Thighs remained still in the
water and watched until the machines had thundered by. And then she
looked back towards the wreckage of her ship. The headless machine
was standing there, dead still, in the river.
Eager to find clues as to why she had been shot down, and eager
to seek vengeance on those that had destroyed her beloved little ship,
the bounty hunter began swimming through the shards of ice towards
the machine.
7 Two Hooded Guards

Doctor Combobulay’s urine-stained chair rolled onto the platform at
the centre of the spherical large chamber and drew to a halt. The
ancient doctor looked around for a moment at the darkened balconies
and terraces that surrounded her. Her crew seemed to be working
diligently and quietly, just as she wished. She turned her attention
straight ahead. “Update me, Commandant Fumbla!”
The commandant bowed, and then looked up at the doctor. He
stroked his beard. “We have just had a report from the Kretins I
despatched earlier to ensure the destruction of the alien orbital object
brought down.”
Despite her great age and wisdom, Doctor Combobulay was not
a patient woman. “Stop dallying and tell me!”
The commandant continued, activating the large screen next to
him. A map appeared. “The alien object was discovered three
kilometres from the shore on at this location. The firepower of the
Kretins easily destroyed the object.”
The imaged changed to show an image of the destroyed object.
The doctor nodded slowly. “Very good.”
“Unfortunately, one of the Kretin’s was badly damaged by the
object before it was destroyed. The crew was killed.”
“Incompetence!” the doctor yelled, slamming her fist into the
side of her chair as hard as her stringy atrophied arm muscles would
allow.
28
Commandant Fumbla looked a little nervous, but he kept his

composure as usual. “The other two Kretins returned to the sea. One
of them did lose an arm, but that can be repaired in a couple of hours.”
The doctor had calmed herself a little. “Well, we have to expect
some damage in a hostile situation, don’t we?” She leaned forwards.
“I trust the damaged Kretin was destroyed completely? We do not
want to leave evidence lying around.”
“Actually, no, it was abandoned.”
Doctor Combobulay struggled to her feet. Her voice became
strained and high-pitched. “It is still out there on the plain?!”
The commandant nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The Kretin control
team leader felt that there was no danger in leaving the damaged
Kretin there. She thought that it would be better to conserve
weaponry for the Kretin’s primary task, instead of…”
The doctor’s voice crackled. “Who is the leader of the Kretin
control team?”
The commandant pointed up. “That would be Umbella Fhune,
ma’am.”
On the terrace directly above Commandant Fumbla, a young
woman with waist long black hair and a pale, classically beautiful face
stood looking down. She was clearly anxious.
The doctor sat back down on her chair, and then looked up. “I
find your profound stupidity too astounding to contemplate.” She
operated a control on her chair. “Security? Umbella Fhune is leaving
this vessel. Escort her to the upper airlock.”
A door opened behind the Kretin control team leader. Two
hooded guards grabbed her arms and pulled Umbella away. She said
nothing.
Doctor Combobulay exhaled noisily. “Commandant Fumbla?
take this ship to a depth of two kilometres to ensure that Umbella is
crushed to the correct size, and then have her body placed, with
appropriate labelling, in the Example Chamber with the others.”
The commandant nodded.
“And assign a new team leader for Kretin control.”
“And then despatch some more Kretins to destroy or retrieve
the damaged one!”
“Immediately, ma’am.”
The doctor sighed, and looked around at her crew. She frowned.
“The mistakes by Humbert and Umbella may bring new challenges to
us in the days ahead. The success of our mission may be in jeopardy,
but I believe we can still achieve our goal. I expect only the best from
29
you from now on. Anymore mistakes will be dealt with in the usual
brutal but fair manner.”
Doctor Combobulay and her chair trundled back into her private
chamber.
8 The Sound of Moaning

Sind’a Thighs clung to the left leg of the giant humanoid-shaped
machine and looked up. The water here was deep, and up to the mid-
thigh level of the machine, which made it easy for the bounty hunter
to reach for the hatch she could see between the machine’s huge
chunky legs. She pulled herself up out of the ice-strewn water and
jammed her boots into the gap between two armoured panels on the
leg. She turned her attention to the hatch, attempting to pry it open. It
was locked tight shut. Only extreme explosives would open it. She
would have to climb up to the top.
Using the mosaic of tough plating on the machine’s back,
Sind’a Thighs dexterously made her way up the torso. It took her only
a minute to clamber onto the machine’s broad shoulders. She stood
up and took a couple of deep breaths. Twenty metres up the view was
much better. To the east she could see far out to sea, the water as
black as tar against the ochre sky. In all other directions the plain of
ash continued to the black horizon - desolation on a truly miserable
scale.
Below, about thirty metres in front of the humanoid machine
were the remains of her ship. The Butt Muffin was nothing but a
charred carcass half-submerged in the murky water, but she could
make out the smouldering remains of the VAPR engine, and even the
scorched base of her circular bed.
For a few moments Sind’a Thighs allowed a pang of sadness to
pass through her mind. She remembered the thrill of her first flight
and the ecstasy of her first romp in her circular bed with a fifth-class
bounty hunter known as Big Bad Bob – a very fulfilling experience.
She would cherish those memories forever.
And then she focused her thoughts on the task at hand – to seek
vengeance for the destruction of her ship. Between the humanoid-
shaped machine’s colossal shoulders were the remnants of the dome
that she’d seen her ship destroy so expertly. And the two well-cooked
crew members sitting there in their exposed seats proved that this was
not an autonomous machine. She stepped down into the machine’s
30
cockpit and grabbed the two charred crew members. She pulled hard
and dragged their corpses up onto the forward edge of the cockpit.
She pushed them, sending them splashing into the river.
The bounty hunter jumped back into the cockpit and sat down.
A few of the controls were still illuminated. The machine was still
active, at least in some way, but all the display-screens were too badly
damaged to be of use.
Then there was a faint noise from below. It appeared that there
was another crew member on board.
Pulling her pistol from its holster on her belt, Sind’a Thighs got
up and stepped over to a closed hatch on the floor. She knelt down
next to it and listened - more faint noises. The bounty hunter shouted.
“I am a bounty hunter from the Palace of Amino. Cease your
activities or suffer instant Amino justice!”
The faint noises stopped.
Carefully, Sind’a Thighs operated the hatch’s controls. With a
sharp hiss it slid open. A bright burst of sizzling energy flashed
passed, barely missing the bounty hunter’s helmet. With a piercing
yell, Sind’a Thighs leapt into the hatch, firing three quick bursts of her
pistol as she fell.
Sind’a Thighs landed hard into the dimly lit room below - a
room filled with the sound of moaning. Lying at the bounty hunter’s
feet was a plump female; her right arm had been burnt to a crisp by
the bounty hunter’s remarkably accurate shots. The female’s blue
overalls were smouldering, and she had a large bruise on her forehead.
“I did warn you.” The bounty hunter said. “Always heed the
warnings of a bounty hunter.”
The injured female nodded slowly, her breathing laboured.
Sind’a Thigh’s looked around. The room was small and
uncomfortable. In the centre was a stark-looking single chair with
virtually no padding. The chair was in front of a crescent of control
panels and screens. A small window showed the view ahead. This
was obviously where the machine’s weapons were controlled. The
bounty hunter looked down at the female. “So, it was you that first
fired on my ship, was it?”
The female nodded.
“What is your name?”
She replied weakly. “Rubella Moul.”
“Well, Rubella, I want you to explain what you are doing on
this world, and why you shot me down from orbit.”
Rubella shook her head. “I will be crushed if I reveal anything
to you.”
31
The bounty hunter pressed her boot onto the female’s chest.
“You’ll be crushed if you don’t!”
Rubella groaned.
Sind’a Thighs released the pressure. “If you tell me what I
want to know I’ll protect you from whoever would crush you. I
assume you have heard of the Bounty Hunters of the Palace of
Amino?”
Rubella nodded.
“Good. You’ll know, then, that although we have no patience
for megalomaniac villains and routinely incarcerate or vaporise them,
we do have patience for their subordinates that help us. You have
nothing to fear if you tell me what I want to know.”
Rubella looked thoughtful for a few seconds, and then tears
filled her eyes. “I had no choice. I was forced to join the 'ebulon!”
“What’s the 'ebulon?”
“The submarine of Doctor Combobulay.” She sobbed. “We
were all forced to come to this planet from Elddem-Ssor. We were
promised apprenticeships in advanced engineering – skills in short
supply on my world, and skills that would have ensured a comfortable
life.” Rubella sniffled. “But then we were taken to the 'ebulon and
sealed inside. We were shown endless presentations on the desires of
Doctor Combobulay. Then we were assigned duties. I became a
weapons officer onboard this Kretin.”
The sudden burst of information filled Sind’a Thighs’ mind
with questions. Who was Doctor Combobulay, and what are his or
her desires? Where is the 'ebulon now, and why is the doctor using a
submarine? What is the purpose of a Kretin? And why are all the
press-ganged crew from the planet Elddem-Ssor, a remote world with
a reputation for ignorance, bland quisine and mild obesity? The
bounty hunter knelt down. “Rubella, tell me everything again, and in
extreme detail.”
Rubella nodded.
“And then,” Sind’a Thigh’s continued, helping the weapons
officer to sit up, “you are going to help me get this Kretin moving
again.”
After twenty minutes of interrogation Sind’a Thighs new almost

everything she wanted, including why the machine she was in was
known as a ‘Kretin’. It was actually an abbreviation for Killer-Ray-
Emitting Terrain-Incinerating Nuisance. Very odd, but probably very
apt.
32
Unfortunately she did not know the true nature of Doctor

Combobulay’s purpose. That was a secret her brainwashed crew had
never been privy too. The bounty hunter would have to discover that
for herself.
“You Elddem-Ssorians really are gullible to the extreme.”
Sind’a Thighs said. “I see now why the doctor chose you all.”
Rubella winced with pain as the remains of her charred right
arm fell off her shoulder. She wheezed. “We only wanted to better
ourselves.”
“What made you think that running off to a primitive pre-
subspace-capable world such as this with a smelly old woman in an
electric chair would help you better yourself?”
Rubella started sobbing again.
The bounty hunter lifted up the plump injured female and
placed her on the chair in front of the control panel. “Pull yourself
together, and then tell me what’s working and what’s not.”
With her remaining hand, Rubella played with some controls.
A screen on the wall beneath the window lit up. A grid of status
messages was displayed. Most systems appeared to be working.
“Weapons systems are still functional, and I think this machine can
still walk.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “Good. Can it be driven from here?”
“Yes. Motion controls are duplicated.”
“Okay, let’s see if we can…”
The control panel bleeped, and another display lit up.
Rubella shook her head. “Not good!”
“What is it?”
“Two Kretins are approaching!”
“Interesting.” The bounty hunter said. “I wonder why they’re
coming back?”
Once again Rubella sobbed. “They’re coming to destroy us!
They don’t want to leave a near-intact Kretin for someone else to
find!”
Sind’a Thighs slapped Rubella on the back of the head. “Stop
panicking! When they see that we can still walk it’s more likely
they’ll want to escort us back. This will be an excellent opportunity
for me to infiltrate Doctor Combobulay’s operation.” She looked at
Rubella. “I need you to be calm. Now, drive this Kretin out of the
river and towards the approaching Kretins. Can you do that?”
Rubella looked terrified, but she nodded.
“Good. Off you go.”
Rubella flicked a switch and a control stick popped out of the
centre of the console. She grabbed it, and then placed her feet on two
33
pedals. She twisted the stick and pushed it forwards. Lurching, the
Kretin turned.
Sind’a Thighs gripped onto the back of Rubella’s chair as the
Kretin swayed back and forth. And then it shuddered as it began
stomping up the river bank and onto the dusty plain. The view from
the window turned orange as the morning sky to the east came into
view. Ahead, the silhouettes of the two approaching Kretins could be
seen. One of them had an arm missing. They were almost certainly
the Kretins that had visited before.
A voice was heard. “Kretin 67, this is Kretin 52. We thought
you were all dead. We were ordered to destroy you. Report!”
Rubella looked at Sind’a Thighs.
“Reply!” The bounty hunter said. “Act normal!”
Rubella touched the control panel. “Erm… Kretin 52, this is
Kretin 67, weapons officer Rubella Moul speaking. The drive crew
are dead. I was knocked unconscious for a while. I am able to drive
from the weapons room.”
“Understood. We’ll escort you back.”
Ahead, the two Kretins were already turning to face the sea.
Sind’a Thighs grinned. “Well done! It’s working!”
Rubella was not so confident. “What happens when they
discover I’ve helped you? They crush me and place me in the…”
“I told you I’d protect you. Just drive!”
Following the two Kretins ahead, Rubella guided their Kretin
over the crumbled coastline buildings and onto the wide ash-grey
beach. After a few more heavy steps they entered the sea. Already
the lead Kretins were half submerged, the swell of the water breaking
into foam on their backs.
Automatically, the hatch above hissed shut.
Sind’a Thighs looked up. “Oh yes. I forgot about that!”
Now, the water level had reached the window. The orange sky
disappeared as the opaque dust-laden sea consumed all light.
“How long until we get to your base?” The bounty hunter
asked.
“About 30 minutes.” Rubella answered. She activated some
floodlights. The backs of the Kretins in front could now be seen as
they stomped down the steep slope of the seabed. They were already
completely submerged.
“Good. That gives me enough time to do a little studying.
Show me a plan of the base on the screen.”
Rubella flicked a couple of controls and a plan appeared, along
with the projected route.
34
Sind’a Thighs studied the image. In a couple of kilometres, and

around two-hundred metres down, they would reach the edge of a
deep abyss. The entrance to the base was a further two-hundred
metres down the side of the abyss. A precarious set of giant steps led
down to it – obviously purpose-built for the Kretins to use. “Strange!
If this doctor of yours used flying machines instead of these walking
contraptions, there would be no need for idiotically massive staircases
like that!”
Rubella spoke. “The wisdom of Doctor Combobulay is
unfathomable.”
The bounty hunter slapped the weapons officer on the back of
her head. “Don’t spout that brainwashed rubbish any more! You are
under my influence now. Understood?”
Rubella nodded; her breathing noticeably erratic. She sniffled
and shivered. “Sorry. I’m a bit confused right now.”
“I’m here to protect you now. You are no longer under the
doctor’s control. Just stay focused and drive!”
9 Hideous Body
The two maids rubbed Doctor Combobulay’s naked body with thick
sponges, cleansing her with trained and gentle precision.
The doctor grinned as the warm bubbly water washed over her
wizened frame. “That feels very good,” she said, tilting her head back
slightly and closing her eyes, “so very good.”
One of the maids squeezed her sponge over the doctor’s head,
soaking her thinning locks of frail white hair.
There was a gentle beeping sound. One of the maids looked at
a control panel next to the doctor’s oval bath. “It is Commandant
Fumbla, ma’am. He has an update for you.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll receive the update in here. Bring him
in.”
The maid nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She walked across the
cylindrical chamber and disappeared through a small side exit. The
other maid continued washing the doctor’s back.
“Clean my chest.” Doctor Combobulay ordered.
The maid nodded and moved around the side of the bath. After
dipping the sponge in the water she began rubbing the doctor’s long
sagging breasts.
35
The other maid returned, accompanied by Commandant Fumbla.

He looked resplendent in his blue fur cloak, and his beard was
immaculately presented. He was holding a small data-pad. The
commandant gazed at the doctor, his expression unable to completely
hide his revulsion at what he was seeing.
Doctor Combobulay looked at him and smiled crookedly. “You
do not need to hide your disgust, commandant. I am aware of the
abhorrent nature of my body. It is a long time since I cared what
people thought about my physical appearance.”
The commandant bowed once. “Thank you, ma’am.”
The doctor breathed deeply as the second maid rejoined her
companion at the bath. The maid began massaging the old woman’s
nipples.
“Well?” The doctor said with mild impatience. “You have an
update for me, I believe? Will it result in my having to have another
of my subordinates crushed?”
Commandant Fumbla shook his head, and then stroked his
beard. “Not this time, ma’am.” He looked down at the data-pad he
was holding. “The damaged Kretin has been recovered. The weapons
officer onboard is still alive and is driving the Kretin back to its base
as we speak. They should arrive within the next fifteen minutes.”
“Very good! The situation is not as bad as we expected. Now
there is no evidence to indicate our presence to those who are likely to
come looking for the star ship we shot down.”
Commandant Fumbla suddenly looked even more
uncomfortable.
Doctor Combobulay frowned and turned, her drooping breasts
swinging like emaciated pendulums. “I told you that it’s fine to be
revolted by my hideous body! Pull yourself together!”
“It’s not that, ma’am. Some new information has just been sent
to me. There is still a small amount of evidence of our presence left
on the surface.”
The doctor’s voice deepened to a growl. “Explain?”
“Earlier, when the three Kretins went to destroy the star ship,
one of them had one of its arms shot off. It appears that the arm was
not recovered. It must still be out on the plain.”
The doctor sighed, her voice now more of a crackle than a
growl. Her eyes narrowed. “So, incompetence still infests some of
my crew members, doesn’t it?”
The commandant nodded. “It appears so, ma’am.”
“It looks like I’ll have to have yet another of them crushed, after
all! Who is the new leader of the Kretin control team?”
36
Commandant Fumbla looked down at his data-pad. “Dungot

Tooula, ma’am.”
“Inform Dungot that I am flabbergasted by his stupidity. Have
him escorted to the upper airlock immediately. Take this ship to a
depth of two kilometres and expel him. Once he’s crushed to the
correct size have his body placed with appropriate labelling in the
Example Chamber with the others.”
The commandant bowed. “Of course, ma’am.”
“Assign a new leader for the Kretin control team, and then send
a Kretin back to the plain to recover the arm.”
“Immediately, ma’am.” With a swish of his fur cloak, the
commandant turned.
“One more thing, commandant?”
The commandant stopped and turned to look at the doctor.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Which base is that damaged Kretin from?”
“Fanoog Base, ma’am. Off the east coast of the Sthoog
Peninsula.”
“Take us there. I wish to meet the remaining crew member of
that Kretin.”
“It will take a day to…”
Doctor Combobulay yelled, her voice breaking up into crackles.
“Do as I order!”
Commandant Fumbla bowed, turned with another swish of his
cloak, and left the chamber.
The doctor sighed and took a couple of deep wheezing breaths
to relax. “Help me lay back.”
The two maids supported the withered doctor as she lay back
into the water.
The doctor looked at each maid. “If only all my crew were as
wonderful as you two.”
The maids’ spoke in unison, the tone of their voices high and
appreciative. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Leave me now. I wish for a few minutes of quiet
contemplation.”
The maids nodded, and then scurried out of the chamber.
37
10 A Blackened Room of Soot
The descent down the giant seabed staircase had been uncomfortable
and intensely precarious. With the sheer wall of the abyss to the right,
and the sheer drop into a black abyss to the left there was no margin
for error, especially when another Kretin headed in the opposite
direction had wanted to pass by.
Now, though, the journey had become a little less perilous.
Rubella was driving the Kretin along a wide shelf cut deep into wall
of the abyss, which also seemed to serve as a parking area for other
Kretins. Sind’a Thighs watched as they passed by row after row of
the motionless machines standing silently like an extremely
disciplined platoon of soldiers. Shoals of fish swam in clouds around
the giant machines.
“How many Kretins are there?” The bounty hunter asked.
Rubella thought for a moment. Her expression was pained.
She was suffering considerable discomfort from the remains of her
scorched arm. “Almost a thousand, I think. There are three-hundred
based here. The rest are at bases up and down the coast.”
Sind’a Thighs shook her head slowly. “Why does Doctor
Combobulay think that clumsy walking machines will be a good
means of controlling the survivors? Very odd!”
“The wisdom of Doctor Combobulay is…”
The bounty hunter punched the weapons officer’s right ear.
“Do not spout that brainwashed rubbish!”
Rubella winced, and then sniffled. “Sorry.”
Up ahead, a huge doorway was opening in the side of the cliff.
Light flooded out onto the shelf. The two Kretins that had been
escorting them moved to one side. The communications console
activated. “Kretin 67, this is Kretin 52. Report for maintenance and
debriefing.”
Rubella replied; her voice significantly weaker than before. Her
breathing was laboured. “Kretin 52, this is Kretin 67. Affirmative.
Reporting for maintenance and debriefing.” She sighed, and then
slumped onto the console. The Kretin lurched.
Sind’a Thighs pulled Rubella back and grabbed the control stick.
The Kretin steadied. “Rubella? Stay conscious! You’ll be in the base
soon. I assume there are medical facilities there?”
The weapons officer looked up at the bounty hunter. Her eyes
blinked slowly. Her voice slurred. “Yes, there is a hospital.”
38
“Good. I need you to drive us in there. It’s the only way not to
arouse suspicion. Okay?”
Rubella nodded. She sat up and took hold of the control stick.
They were now standing in the giant doorway, the entrance to a
spacious airlock. The weapons officer pushed the stick forwards,
directing the Kretin into the airlock.
The communications panel activated. A new voice was heard.
“Kretin 67, this is Fanoog Base Control. Set to automatic. Prepare
for airlock draining.”
Almost drained of energy, Rubella flicked a switch. “Fanoog
Base Control, this is Kretin 67. Automatic set.”
Rapidly the water around the Kretin dropped away through
large openings in the floor. Within less than a minute the airlock was
empty. The inner door ahead opened revealing a long chamber lined
with maintenance bays, gantries, complex equipment and vending
machines. The chamber was floodlit to an almost blinding level. The
Kretin began to step forwards.
Rubella’s breathing was growing extremely shallow. “Base
Control is driving now.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “Good. How long until we reach our
maintenance bay?”
“A few minutes, maybe.”
“Hmm… I need a uniform like yours. Is there one on board?”
The weapons officer head lolled, and then she pointed down to
a hatch on the floor. “The living quarters are below. I have a spare
down there.”
Sind’a Thighs looked at Rubella, and her plump body. The
uniform would be far too baggy for the bounty hunter’s slim and toned
physique, but it would have to do. “I’ll be back shortly. Hang in
there!” She opened the hatch and jumped through.
Sind’a Thighs returned dressed in a baggy blue uniform. She had

stuffed some of Rubella’s other clothing around her waist to fill the
suit out a bit. She stood to one side of the weapons officer. “What do
you think? Not bad? I look as plump as you!”
Rubella did not respond. She sat their, lifeless, her head back
and mouth open. A trickle of drool ran across her left cheek.
The bounty hunter touched Rubella’s neck, and then sighed.
She thought quickly and came up with a plan in seconds. She grabbed
Rubella’s corpse and dropped it through the hatch into the living
quarters below. The bounty hunter took a quick look out of the front
window. The Kretin was headed towards an empty bay. It would be
39
there within a minute. There was not much time. She jumped down
through the hatch. Opening the cabinet where she had hidden her
body suit, helmet and weapons, the bounty hunter grabbed one of her
grenades. She set its control to ‘Furnace – Low Yield’, activated it,
and then climbed quickly back through the hatch, sealing it.
There was a loud thud, and then a roar as the grenade detonated.
The Kretin shuddered. After a few more seconds the noise died away.
The floor was noticeably warmer. There would be nothing left of
Rubella or Sind’a Thighs’ equipment - nothing but a blackened room
of soot and toxic smoke. Perfect.
There was clunk. The Kretin had stopped.
Through the window Sind’a Thighs could see many pale-faced
technicians shuffling large pieces of equipment about. Several more
clunks were heard – something was obviously being connected.
Diagnostic messages appeared on the screens.
The hatch above opened and a male voice shouted. “Weapons
officer Rubella Moul?”
Sind’a Thighs looked up. “Yes! That’s me!”
The man, bald, thin and with a face the colour and texture of an
uncooked pie, looked at her quizzically for a second. “Good. I’m
Maintenance Supervisor Sambert Taul. Come with me.”
The bounty hunter nodded, and then climbed out through the
hatch. She stood on top of the cockpit-less Kretin and looked around
at the huge subterranean chamber, squinting in the bright light.
The maintenance supervisor pointed at all the damage. “It’s
amazing that you survived. There’s nothing left up here!”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “Yes, it was a shocking experience.”
“Is there any other damage?”
“There was an intense fire in the living quarters.”
Sambert looked perplexed. His sweaty pastry-like forehead
creased up. “Really? That’s unusual. How did that get started?”
The bounty hunter shrugged. “No idea. I was too busy
driving.”
“Oh. Well. We’ll fix it. You’d better get to your debriefing.”
He pointed to a gantry that had been attached to the Kretin’s left
shoulder. It led to an arched doorway cut into the rock. “Follow me.”
The supervisor walked awkwardly onto the gantry.
Sind’a Thighs followed.
The debriefing room was large and stark, with plain white walls and
ceiling, and a uniform grey floor. And there was absolutely no
furniture at all. It was a level of austerity that Sind’a Thighs had
40
never seen before, not even in the strict Impaler community where she
had lived before moving to the Palace of Amino.
The bounty hunter stood in the centre of the room, her unevenly
padded blue uniform looking odd and uncomfortable. A few metres in
front of her stood a man holding a data-pad. He was not tall or short,
not fat or thin, and not old or young. He was very ordinary in
everyway, and the bounty hunter had never met anyone with such a
bored expression. He was a truly dull being, and instantly forgettable.
It took all of Sind’a Thighs’ willpower to hold back what would
probably have been the longest and deepest yawn of her life.
The man spoke. “I am Debriefing Officer Berbert Bout.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “And I am Rubella Moul.”
“I am aware of your identity.” The debriefing officer said. His
expression altered slightly. “But your appearance is not what I
expected.”
“How so?” The bounty hunter said, preparing to fight if her
cover was blown.
Berbert was quiet for a few moments. He looked up and down
the bounty hunter’s body.
Sind’a Thighs quickly formulated a plan, utilizing her favourite
eradication technique. She would leap forwards, kicking hard at the
briefing officer’s right knee cap. The force of impact, and the
pressure from her thighs would snap his tendons and ligaments and
crush his knee joint, bending his leg backwards. He would collapse in
agony. Half a second later, she would jump up and wrap her thighs
around his neck, dragging him down. Just before hitting the floor, she
would squeeze her quadriceps and twist her hips hard, snapping his
neck. He would be dead before he could draw his next breath –
excruciating, but very quick.
Berbert spoke. “You are unevenly shaped, and your head lacks
the double-chin and skin conditions of such a fleshy body.” The
essence of a smile appeared on his face. “You are an unusual but
appealing female specimen.”
The bounty hunter relaxed. Berbert was attracted to her. That
distraction would improve her chances of getting through this
debriefing. “Thank you.”
The smidgen of a smile disappeared from the debriefing
officer’s face. “You must now be debriefed. The process normally
takes two hours.”
The bounty hunter sighed quietly. “I see.”
“But that time must be cut short by a considerable amount.
Doctor Combobulay herself will arrive here in a few hours. She
wishes to meet you.”
41
A moment of shock filled the bounty hunter’s mind. “Me?

Why?”
“The reason for Doctor Combobulay’s visit and her interest in
you is not known to me, and nor should it be.”
“But, I would....”
“We must not question the motives and wisdom of Doctor
Combobulay. You should know that.”
“Of course.”
“We must all prepare for her visit - especially you.”
“What must I…”
“Quiet! The debriefing must begin now if we are to have time
to prepare.” A barely discernable smile appeared on the debriefing
officer’s face again. “And if we are to have time to act on the obvious
attraction we have for each other.”
Sind’a Thighs’ revulsion at the thought of sexual activity with
such a dull and pointless male was almost unbearable. Delicious
thoughts of snapping Berbert’s neck flitted through her mind, and
quelled her nausea. She smiled at the prospect.
The debriefing officer took the bounty hunter’s smile
completely the wrong way, and blushed ever so slightly. He looked
down at his data-pad and tapped a few buttons.
The bounty hunter noticed him occasionally looking up at her
weirdly padded suit. Behind the bland glaze of his eyes she could see
a fiery lust. She smiled.
11 Formidable Strategies
Like a greased hog on ice, the Blenheim emerged from subspace at the
edge of the Droog System and slipped unseen behind the dark mass of
a small dormant comet. An arm, brimming with passive sensors,
extended beyond the edge of the comet. The sensors targeted the
planet Droog and began taking readings.
Peter the Ace and Panman were sitting in the Blenheim’s tastefully lit
main situation room at the heart of the ship. Strewn across the wide
oval conference table were the remains of a spicy feast – an essential
part of mission planning for top-class bounty hunters. For the last few
hours they had analysed the data sent back by Sind’a Thighs before
42
her ship had been attacked. And they had discovered some intriguing
details.
The door to the situation room whooshed open. The Blenheim’s
now part-time assistant, Jemima Murma, entered, wearing nothing but
a black thong, a thin white belt and a strapless black bra. Her long
bleached-white hair was coiled into a thick bun on the back of her
head. She placed a tray of cheese snacks on the table.
Panman grinned. “You read my mind!” He stuffed his mouth
as full as possible, and then chomped like a hippo.
Peter the Ace agreed. “You are indeed an insightful assistant.
You predict our needs with an accuracy I’ve never seen. It’s a shame
you are no longer with us on a permanent basis.”
Jemima Murma bowed. “You are so kind to say so.” She
looked up. “If you wish it, I will cancel my studies at the Amino
Weapons Institute and return to a full-time position here.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it!” Peter the Ace said, taking one of the
snacks. “You are fulfilling your ambition to become a flesh
incineration engineer, and that is something I must not interfere with.
Justin provides adequate assistance to us, and will continue to do so
until we find a more suitable and well toned alternative.”
The assistant bowed once more. “Thank you. If you need
anything else at all, please call.” She left the situation room, her firm
exposed butt-cheeks swaying enticingly. The door whooshed closed
behind her.
A small communications console on the table bleeped. Panman
reached out and answered, his mouth still packed with food. “Yeah?”
The reply was devoid of feeling. “It is I, Justin.”
Panman swallowed. “I know! What is it?!”
“I am standing guard at the detention cell containing Radic.”
The bounty hunter laughed. “I’d almost forgotten about that
vacillated fiasco of a miscreant! How is he? Is he still blubbering like
a jilted minger?”
“'o. He is giggling and mumbling.”
“Sound’s like he’s gone mad.”
“He is mumbling about a secret operation that you are not
aware of. He is taking pleasure from the fact that, despite his
incarceration, his whore-cloning business is not over and will
continue to function with a satisfactory level of success.”
“Nonsense! Ross Mental is finishing off the remnants of his
business as we speak. Soon even Repugnius won’t have any of his
whores. He’s finished, and his business is finished. His cloning
facilities have been destroyed and his whores will soon be off the
streets for good. Tell him that and he’ll stop giggling.”
43
“I obey.”
“And then get on with your cleaning tasks!” Panman ordered.
He silenced the communications channel and turned to Peter the Ace.
“Back to the business at hand!”
Operating a few controls, Peter the Ace altered the image on the
room’s massive display screen. An image of the devastated planet
Droog appeared surrounded by numerous statistics. “Right, to
summarise: eight days ago 14 large asteroids impacted on Droog.
The impact locations are spread quite evenly around the planet, as
indicated by the data received from Sind’a Thighs. The impacts
completely wiped out all sentient life, except for a few million
humanoids on the central continent – the same continent that our
exceptionally toned young bounty hunter was scanning when she was
shot down.
“Such an arrangement of impacts could not occur naturally, and
the chance of just one continent having all the survivors is remote.
What’s more, the weapon that shot down the Butt Muffin was located
in the ocean far from the shore. Despite the planet-wide destruction,
some advanced technology, far more advanced than that of the
indigenous civilisation, is still operating. What does that mean?”
Panman swallowed hard, and then spoke. “It means that a
sophisticated off-world megalomaniac caused the asteroids to collide
with Droog at locations that would wipe out most of the planet’s
population, leaving a manageable few alive and in despair on the main
continent. Those survivors, subdued to the lowest level of self-esteem
and personal hygiene, will be east targets for brainwashers and have
no choice but to become the followers of the megalomaniac’s grand
vision, whatever that may be.”
“My thinking exactly.”
Panman continued. “Of course, shooting down the Butt Muffin
was a major mistake!”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Not surprising, though.
Megalomaniacs tend to lack intelligence and common-sense on a scale
that continues to astound me.” He pointed at the screen. “Our records
indicated that the civilisation on Droog had launched many satellites
into orbit. There is nothing but debris in orbit now. I suspect the Butt
Muffin was shot down because it was mistaken for another satellite.”
Panman laughed. “Whoever they are, they’re idiots!”
“Indeed. And whatever it was that shot down Sind’a Thighs is
still pumping out regular sensor emissions from the ocean. Currently
it is near the east coast of the central continent. We will have no
trouble finding it.” Peter the Ace operated some controls and the
44
image on the display screen changed. “Our objectives are simple:

destroy the megalomaniac and rescue Sind’a Thighs.”
Panman grabbed another snack. “Cool! We can do that!” He
chewed noisily and swallowed hard. “And there are two ways we can
do it – the stealthy way, or the in-your-face way.”
“I’m intrigued. Please explain.”
Panman stood up and stepped over to the giant display screen.
The image from the sensor arm was displayed, showing the sad brown
sphere of the once thriving planet Droog. “Using a small piece of the
comet that we are currently concealed behind, we drift towards the
planet and plummet into the atmosphere. It will look like a natural
impact, and once we land in the ocean we can commence our mission
in total secret.”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Hmm… I like it!”
“Or, we simply fly there as normal and fight them head on,
unleashing our arsenal of advanced weaponry with complete disregard
for the consequences. Insanity at it’s purest!” Panman raised his arms
like a famous orator, rightly proud of his two plans.
Peter the Ace applauded. “Bravo! Exceptional, as always!”
He thought for a moment, scratching his chin. “They’re both
formidable strategies which makes it very difficult to choose between
them.” He grinned. “So let’s do both!”
Panman laughed. “Of course! Whoever’s down their will go
mad with rage as we mess with their minds! Awesome!” He hit the
conference table and activated a communicator. “Jemima, our plan
has been formed. We need beer and deep-fried meat now!”
12 Some Kind of Greenish Oil
So far Sind’a Thighs’ whole experience on Droog had been quite

peculiar: the crash landing, travelling along the seabed in a walking
machine, having to wear a stuffed uniform to look like a plump enemy
crew member, and then suffering a peculiar debriefing by the lustful
Berbert Bout that had been filled with sexual innuendo and invitations
to all kinds of perverted evening classes.
And now it was about to get even more peculiar.
The bounty hunter was standing on a high platform in a giant
artificial cavern adjacent to the maintenance bay of the Kretin base. A
dozen metres below all around her, thousands of humanoids had
gathered around a large oval lake of sea water at least a kilometre long.
45
With her on the platform were six of the highest-ranking officers in

the base, each dressed resplendently in ceremonial uniforms. They
were here for the arrival of Doctor Combobulay – due to happen
within the next few minutes. They were all noticeably nervous.
It had been only a few hours ago that Sind’a Thighs had been
told that the doctor was coming here to meet her, or to be more precise,
to meet Rubella Moul, whom everyone still believed that the bounty
hunter was. Rubella had obviously not been the most sociable of the
Kretin crew members. No one had yet questioned her identity.
The water below began to swell and bubble. The crowd
cheered.
One of the high-ranking officers next to Sind’a Thighs spoke to
her. His voice was slow and brimming with condescension. “Stand
straight and tall, Officer Moul. Doctor Combobulay does not tolerate
slouchers and saggers!”
The bounty hunter frowned. She was standing straight, but the
uneven padding in her suit created the impression of a lazy posture.
She corrected things as best she could.
In the water below something small – a sphere – rose out of the
water. The crowd cheered once more as the sphere rose higher on a
tall metal arm. And then the massive bulk of what was below crashed
out of the water. Waves rolled over the edge of the giant pool and
washed into wide drains, along with several of the more stupid crowd
members who had strayed too close to the water’s edge. Sprays of
water spread like clouds across the gathered crowd.
The huge oval lake was now filled with the bulbous mass of a
massive submarine. The whole craft glistened in the brightly lit
chamber as sea water drained from its curved mouldy green surfaces
and several large and offensive looking weapons that were welded to
the hull. The top of the massive vessel was now level with the
platform on which Sind’a Thighs was standing. A narrow bridge
extended out from the platform to the submarine. With a hiss and a
clunk, it connected with the vessel.
It must have been this submarine that had shot her down, Sind’a
Thighs thought. It had to be. The desire for vengeance filled her
mind, briefly overwhelming her with rage. In an instant she subdued
that rage, but kept it bubbling; ready to swell into insanity when the
right moment presented itself.
After a few seconds of silent anticipation, a panel on the side of
the submarine slid open. The crowd gasped. From out of the open
doorway something appeared. It was a chair, and it trundled at
remarkable speed across the bridge. The crowd cheered.
46
Standing on narrow platforms on either side of the device were

two men. One of them, dressed in an immaculate blue fur cloak,
sported a long and well-groomed beard. The other was dressed in
heavy body armour and carried a heavy-looking energy weapon.
Sitting between the two men was one of the oldest, thinnest and most
wizened-looking women the bounty hunter had ever seen. Her long
and straggly white hair blew wildly in the wind.
The chair clattered onto the platform and stopped only a couple
of metres in front of Sind’a Thighs. The two men stepped off the
chair.
From her chair the hideously ancient woman gazed at the
bounty hunter. She edged the chair forwards. “Your body is a strange
shape, Rubella.” Her voice boomed as it was amplified around the
cavern.
This must be Doctor Combobulay, Sind’a Thighs thought. She
resisted the urge to vomit as the smell of urine and rose perfume
entered her nose. “I know. Sorry about that.” She was momentarily
startled as her voice was also amplified for all to hear. “I promise to
exercise more.”
The doctor frowned, and then smiled. “You have a spirit I don’t
normally see in my crew. And you don’t appear as awed by my
presence as I had expected. Perhaps this is why you survived the
attack on your Kretin?”
The bounty hunter knew her cover could be blown at any
second. She bowed her head. “Sorry, doctor. I am still in shock from
my experience.”
Doctor Combobulay laughed. “You certainly have a strange
way of showing it!”
The crowd laughed too, as did the officers around her.
The doctor spoke seriously again. “As the weapons officer who
first fired on the alien ship brought down from orbit, you are a bit of a
hero, are you not?”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “I guess so.”
“You know so! I received a report on your debriefing which
was highly complimentary, especially regarding your physical
attributes.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor made a motion towards the giant submarine. “Your
experience on the 'ebulon was only in the conditioning halls, was it
not, right after you were commissioned?”
The bounty hunter had very little idea what the archaic lady was
talking about, but she nodded. “Yes, it was.”
47
“Then, as a reward for your excellence, let me show you the

areas of the vessel that only a privileged few ever get to see.” She
pointed at one of the narrow platforms in the side of her chair. “Step
on.”
Sind’a Thighs grinned. She was being invited into the
submarine that had shot her down. Her opportunity for vengeance
would soon present itself.
“I sense joy within you.” Doctor Combobulay said as the
bounty hunter stepped onto the chair. The chair turned to face the
bridge. “Such joy is deserved.” The chair rolled forwards. The two
men that had previously ridden the chair walked behind.
Over the cheer of the crowd the doctor spoke again. “Life
should be filled with surprises, should it not?”
Sind’a Thighs was puzzled by the question. “It certainly makes
things more interesting.”
The chair reached the doorway into the 'ebulon. “Indeed it
does.” Doctor Combobulay said, grinning. “You are about to
experience some surprises, not least in something I may offer you if
you continue to impress me.”
The chair trundled through the doorway, followed by the two
men. The door hissed shut, eliminating completely the sound of the
crowd.
With a rumble the floor descended into the submarine.
Doctor Combobulay spoke as they descended. “We will start
with a look at one of my favourite areas. I created it as a motivational
and inspirational place for my crew to visit. It instils obedience and
compliance, and also the fear of death – something necessary for a
disciplined mind, don’t you agree?”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “I do.”
The doctor smiled. “Of course you do! You are as wise as I
predicted. I am pleased.”
The floor stopped descending. The doctor turned to the man in
the blue fur cloak. “Commandant Fumbla? Go to the bridge. Set
course for our previous location and sail immediately. Take this guard
with you. I wish to spend time alone with Officer Moul.”
The commandant nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned and strode
away down a dimly lit passageway. The guard followed.
“Right.” Doctor Combobulay said. “Let’s start the tour!” She
operated a control on her chair. A wide door opened ahead. The chair
rolled forwards. “Welcome to the Example Chamber!”
The bounty hunter looked around. The chamber was a large
oval room at least thirty metres across and filled with what looked like
large tinted glass vases. The high ceiling was covered in a myriad of
48
small bright spotlights, each one directed at one of the vases. There
was the smell of antiseptic in the air, like that of a particularly clean
and efficient hospital, or the torture clinic of a particularly well-
trained Jigantus pain specialist.
The doctor guided the chair towards one of the nearest vases.
“This one was the first installed here. You may recognise the
occupant.”
Sind’a Thighs was curious. Occupant? As the chair slowly
passed by she peered through the tinted glass. Her eyes widened as
she saw what was inside. It was a naked shrunken humanoid,
crumpled up like a bundle of used wrapping paper, and preserved in
some kind of greenish oil. The humanoid’s eyes were nothing more
than small dark pits, and its limbs mere sticks covered with creased
and leathery skin. “Oh, yes! I recognise…” she looked down at the
humanoid’s shrivelled groin, “…him.”
Doctor Combobulay grinned, her unhealthy teeth far too visible
for comfort. “Yes! My first commandant, Dumba Bumumba. His act
of incompetence six years ago forced me to punish him in a very
special way. I created the Example Chamber to house his contorted
body as an example to others of what will happen if they do not
perform to my expectations.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded and played along. “Understandable.
Your subordinates on this vessel must be tightly controlled and
disciplined.”
The doctor laughed. “Exactly! Your understanding is as I’d
hoped.” She lifted one of her arms and made a sweeping motion.
“There are over three hundred examples in this chamber now. All
crew members are required to walk through this chamber before their
shift begins to remind them of their fate if they do not excel at their
duties.” She looked at the bounty hunter. “If there is a better way to
motivate staff, I have yet to think of it.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “I certainly would not presume to think
of one.”
A group of crew members passed by, bowing deeply at the
doctor. The chair was now approaching the end of the chamber.
The doctor pointed to three vases. “These are the latest
examples, installed only a day ago. They were fine officers, but I
cannot tolerate even one mistake. I must punish brutally and without
mercy. It is the only way.”
Despite her disgust at Doctor Combobulay, Sind’a Thighs had
no choice but to agree. She nodded.
Again the doctor seemed pleased with the bounty hunter’s
response. She smiled crookedly and directed the chair towards the
49
chamber’s exit. “You please me, Officer Moul. You please me very
much. As one of my subordinates you are well aware of my policy on
mistakes and well aware of the severity of punishment if a mistake is
made. You should be cowering before me, yet you stand with me on
this chair without any sign of fear. You emanate confidence with a
radiance I have never seen, even from my current commandant.”
Sind’a Thighs could not help but grin. The doctor was
completely taken with her. Her first solo infiltration of an enemy
stronghold was a stunning success. Surely it could not get any better
than this? The bounty hunter bowed, suppressing the ecstasy of her
triumph. “Thank you, doctor.”
The chair trundled out of the Example Chamber.
Doctor Combobulay laughed, and then began a bout of
coughing and wheezing. When she recovered she spoke again. “As
of this moment you are promoted. You will become the assistant
commandant on the 'ebulon.”
It had just got better. The bounty hunter bowed once more, her
face beaming with genuine pleasure. “I am honoured, doctor.”
“So you should be. The position of assistant commandant is
second only to me and Commandant Fumbla.” The doctor waved.
From out of the shadows two guards appeared. “Escort Assistant
Commandant Moul to the Dressing Chamber. See that she is provided
the correct uniform, and then deliver her to Commandant Fumbla in
the command centre.”
The guards bowed silently.
Doctor Combobulay looked up at Sind’a Thighs. “Go with
them.”
The bounty hunter nodded and stepped off the chair.
With a whirr of acceleration the doctor sped away.
13 Balls of Destruction
Once again Panman found himself sitting inside a BULIT Diver. This
time, though, he was not plummeting through the atmosphere of a
giant planet. This time he was drifting at more than a 100,000
kilometres per hour behind a house-sized lump of comet, efficiently
carved off by one of the Blenheim’s energy weapons.
After his experience with the previous diver’s dodgy sentience,
Panman had wisely ordered Justin to remove most of the craft’s
intelligence. Only the most minimal remained. Just enough maintain
50
stability and ensure a relatively smooth entry into Droog’s atmosphere.

The BULIT Diver now had less intelligence than one of Panman’s
stomach implants, but slightly more than one of his boot’s odour
concealment systems.
The communications panel on the curved control surface
glimmered and bleeped. It was Peter the Ace calling.
Panman answered. “Yo, Ace!”
“How’s everything?”
“Cool! On course for entry in 22 minutes. Course set for the
last known location of the sensor emissions we detected.”
“Excellent! I’ll be taking the Blenheim down to the surface in a
couple of minutes. I was scanned just a few minutes ago. They must
have seen me by now. I’ll find the Butt-Muffin’s crash site and create
a lot of noise down there. I’ll bring them out into the open as planned
and let you do your stealth work.”
“Awesome! This is going to rule!”
The Blenheim shuddered slightly as the friction of the thickening

atmosphere took hold.
Peter the Ace looked at the image on the bridge’s main view-
screen – nothing but a dark grey and brown blur of high-altitude
clouds of ash.
A sweet voice spoke from the back of the bridge. “Tea!”
Jemima Murma approached Peter the Ace. She placed a large
mug on the table next to the bounty hunter’s sumptuous command
chair.
“Thank you.” Peter the Ace said. He looked at his assistant’s
latest outfit – a long flowing orange gown that hugged her figure like
nothing he had seen before. Her bleached white hair was now in two
plats, tied together under her chin with a shimmering electronic bow.
“Breathtaking! You have a style and sophistication that’s rarely
exhibited, even by bounty hunters.”
Jemima Murma bowed deeply. “You are too kind.”
“As always I am as kind as I need to be, and no more.”
The Blenheim’s assistant bowed once more, and then looked at
the main view-screen. The clouds were clearing to reveal a dark and
gloomy landscape. “What a depressing vista! How sad that this
world was dealt such a cruel blow of fate.”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Indeed, and they were on the verge of
discovering the secret to interstellar travel, too. This culture would
have made a fine addition to galactic civilisation. I was just reading
about their cuisine. Their most revered and most expensive dish was
51
marinated lizard feet, toasted for three days under a low heat, and then
served cold with a spiced blood sauce. Apparently it was good luck to
eat each foot with twenty precise chews. A great loss.” The bounty
hunter levelled the ship at an altitude of three hundred metres and
slowed its speed to a modest Mach-1. A coastline honed into view
ahead. “Well, enough chit-chat. You’d better go to your quarters and
strap yourself to your bed. I’m about to create a scene of attention-
seeking destruction. Things will get incredibly exciting.”
“Can I watch the results on my view-screen?”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Of course.”
Jemima Murma grinned. She bowed once more, and then
sprinted sexily off the bridge.
Peter the Ace looked down at the sensor information on his
console’s screen. Just ahead were the obvious remains of Sind’a
Thigh’s ship, half submerged in a river. It had been almost totally
destroyed. Accessing the Blenheim’s vast arsenal of weapons, the
bounty hunter made some shrewd selections. He targeted the nearby
coastline and brought the Blenheim to a halt right over wreckage of
the Butt Muffin.
A series of dull clanks broke his concentration. A voice,
monotone and devoid of all emotion, shattered the quiet ambience of
the bridge. “I have completed my cleaning tasks.”
The bounty hunter turned and looked at Justin. The cyborg
stood at the entrance to the bridge, his bulky metallic body rigid and
still. “Including the interior of the effluence compaction unit?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent! Take a seat and watch the show.”
“I obey.” Justin muttered, stomping over to his reinforced bench
at the back of the bridge. He sat down and focused his lifeless red eye
units on the view-screen ahead.
Peter the Ace slammed his fist onto his control console. The
ship shuddered as the topside launcher fired three missiles. The main
view-screen showed their course as they rocketed towards the ocean.
One of the missiles headed south, and another north. The third flew
straight to a position just offshore.
The missiles detonated.
With nuclear ferocity, three immensely hot balls of destruction
expanded rapidly, vaporising rock and water in an instant. For the
first time in almost two weeks, light as bright as the sun illuminated
the landscape. A wave of devastation once again spread across the
land and sea.
52
The blast wave reached the Blenheim. The ship was buffeted
violently, but its shields and dampers reduced the effect to nothing
more than a rumble.
Peter the Ace smiled. “Very satisfying! That should get their
attention.”
Justin spoke. “Whose attention are you trying to acquire?”
“Those that caused all the destruction on this world, of course!”
On the screen, the fire balls had cooled, and now rose as black
mushroom clouds, sucking up thousands of tonnes of dust from the
surface.
Justin continued speaking. “It is illogical to assume that the
detonation of three nuclear devices will summon those…”
Peter the Ace frowned at his metallic assistant. “And it is
illogical for you to assume that it is logical that I, a first-class bounty
hunter of ultimate mental sharpness and unrivalled physical brawn,
have made an assumption that is illogical.”
Silently, Justin pondered his master’s words for a few seconds.
And then he spoke. “That is logical.”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Indeed it is.”
Panman had chuckled as he had watched the three detonations.

Although obscured by the dense clouds of ash in Droog’s atmosphere,
he had clearly seen the bright orange bursts beneath. The game was
on!
The planet Droog now loomed large below. Less than half a
kilometre ahead the comet fragment that he had hidden behind was
beginning to flare as it entered the outer edge of the planet’s
atmosphere.
This was going to be one mother of a ride!
14 Unevenly Plump Torso
Wearing a resplendent blue fur cloak, Sind’a Thighs stepped onto a

wide terrace overlooking the 'ebulon’s large spherical command
centre. She took a few seconds to look around at the dimly-lit and
impressively designed room. Ahead, next to the railings at far edge of
the terrace, stood another blue-cloaked individual. It was
Commandant Fumbla. The commandant turned and looked at the
53
bounty hunter. He stroked his beard for a moment, and then walked
forwards.
Sind’a Thigh’s bowed. “Assistant Commandant Rubella Moul
reporting as ordered.” She looked up and waited for the
commandant’s welcome.
With a rapid movement of his right arm, the commandant
grabbed the bounty hunter’s neck and slammed her against a nearby
control console. She was pushed down hard onto a large display
screen. The commandant spoke with quiet menace. “I did not request
an assistant. I do not need an assistant. I do not need you!”
Touching a bounty hunter without permission was a capital
offence, punishable with instant Amino justice. Sind’a Thighs felt a
strong urge to dish out some extreme punishment right now, but her
well-developed willpower quashed that urge. Punishment could wait
until later, when she would have the intense pleasure of revealing her
true identity. The bounty hunter remained in character. “It is the
desire of Doctor Combobulay that I serve as the assistant commandant.
The desires of Doctor Combobulay must be fulfilled above all others.”
Commandant Fumbla scowled for a couple of seconds, and then
released his grip. “That is true.” He looked quizzically at his new
assistant. “I don’t know what it was that convinced the doctor to
promote such a podgy little female to such a high position. But you
will fail soon enough. I look forward to visiting you in the Example
Chamber.”
Sind’a Thighs stood proudly. “I will not fail, commandant. I
can assure you of that.”
Before Commandant Fumbla could respond an alarm sounded.
He turned and looked across the command centre. A large view-
screen next to a balcony on the opposite side was displaying three
bright flashing circles. “Officer Batcheak! Report!”
The officer on the opposite balcony spoke. “Three large
simultaneous detonations have been detected!”
“Where?”
“Two on the coastline not far from where that alien ship was
brought down. The other was over the sea, just a few kilometres from
our position.”
“What caused them?”
“A vessel was detected a couple of minutes ago flying around in
that region.”
Commandant Fumbla voice boomed. “Why did you not inform
me of that?!”
54
Officer Batcheak was visibly shaken by the commandant’s tone.

“I was about to, commandant. I was collating information to present
to you. I was almost finished when…”
“I demand, and always have demanded, immediate reports of
such events!”
The officer bowed.
Sind’a Thighs stepped forward and stood next to the
commandant. “It would be useful to see the scans of that vessel.”
The commandant glared at her. “Of course it would!” He
turned back to the crew member. “Show the scans of that vessel.
Now!”
Officer Batcheak nodded and fiddled with his control console.
The large view-screen next to him flickered. A new image was
displayed.
Sind’a Thighs’ eyes widened. She recognized the vessel’s
unmistakably curvaceous design, its menacing armourment and its
muscular midsection. Her idols were here. She gasped loudly.
Commandant Fumbla looked at the bounty hunter. “What’s
wrong with you?!”
Sind’a Thighs smiled. “Sorry, commandant. Excess stomach
acid. Too much spicy food!”
The commandant frowned, and then turned back to face the
crew member. “Was that vessel responsible for the explosions?”
Officer Batcheak shrugged. “Probably, but I have no sensor
information to confirm that.”
“Hmm… Keep an eye on it.” He looked up at the view-screen.
One section of the screen was displaying something else. The
commandant pointed. “What is that?”
The officer looked up. “That? It’s a small comet fragment
we’ve been tracking. It’s just entered the atmosphere.”
Commandant Fumbla was not happy. “And why did you not
inform me of that?”
Officer Batcheak’s nerves frayed a little more. “The fragment
is only a few metres across. It will vaporise long before it reaches us.
No threat at all. I did not feel it was worthy of your attention. Apart
from the unlikely fact that it’s on a direct intercept course with the
'ebulon, there’s nothing of importance about it at all.”
“An intercept course?! Are you certain it will break up?”
The officer nodded. “Yes, commandant, very certain. Its
composition is water ice and a few pebbles – nothing more. I could
get the Emanator to destroy it, if you would like?”
“Hmm… No, if you are certain it will vaporise then there is no
need waste the energy.”
55
With a loud whirr, a door on the far side of the command centre
opened, flooding light into the giant room. A chair trundled out from
the door and along a precarious track to a small platform at the centre
of the spherical room. It was, of course, Doctor Combobulay.
Commandant Fumbla immediately bowed. Sind’a Thighs
followed his lead.
As soon as her chair drew to a halt, the doctor spoke. “What is
that?!” She bellowed; here voice breaking into a crackle with the
strain. She pointed at the screen showing the vessel that had caused
the explosions.
The commandant stood tall. “It was detected a few moments
ago, ma’am. It set off three large explosions. We don’t know why.
We are keeping a close eye on it.”
The doctor’s face crumpled into a deep frown. “Fool! It is
obviously here because of that ship we brought down earlier!”
“We don’t know that for sure, ma’am. I suggest that we
keep…”
“Your suggestions get feebler by the hour!” the doctor yelled,
struggling to her feet. She stood, wobbling like a mild epileptic, at the
edge of her chair. “Send all Kretins to destroy that vessel!”
“All? Surely just a few would be sufficient? We are soon to
send all Kretins on their primary mission. It would be best to…”
“Silence! Do as I order! That new vessel is obviously well-
armed. I will take no chances!”
“But the primary mission is more…”
The doctor screamed, her voice breaking up into a rasp of fury.
“This is the primary mission!”
The commandant’s eyes widened. “It is, ma’am?”
“Of course it is!”
Commandant Fumbla was confused. He bowed. “Yes,
ma’am.” He looked up to the terrace above his at the terrace were the
Kretin Control Team were situated. “Officer Shabakangoul? Send all
Kretins to the location of the new vessel and see that it’s destroyed.”
Officer Rebeka Shabakangoul, the new Kretin Control team
leader, looked down and nodded. “Yes, commandant.”
A shrill voice was heard from across the command centre. It
was Officer Batcheak. “Not good!” He shouted.
A loud muffled crunch was heard. A series of strong tremors
swept through the command centre. Alarms began sounding.
Doctor Combobulay fell back into her chair. “What is going
on?!”
Officer Batcheak yelled. “Something hit us! The hull is
breached across four decks! We’re flooding!”
56
Commandant Fumbla steadied himself on the railings of his

terrace. “Seal off those decks. What hit us?!”
Officer Batcheak fiddled with his controls. He shook his head.
“I think it was that comet fragment, but its density was too low for it
to survive long enough to hit us. I don’t understand!”
Doctor Combobulay was fuming. She glowered at Officer
Batcheak. “You’re ineffectiveness exceeds even my lowest
expectations!” She turned to Commandant Fumbla. “Relieve Officer
Batcheak of his duties. Take this ship down to a depth of two
kilometres. Have Officer Batcheak expelled from the upper airlock.
As soon as he is suitably crushed, have him placed and appropriately
labelled in the Example Chamber with the other failures.”
The commandant nodded, and then motioned to two the security
guards on Officer Batcheak’s level. Immediately, the guards grabbed
the doomed officer, gagged him, kicked him solidly in the groin, and
then dragged him away.
The doctor was reversing her chair. “Fix the damage to the hull
and drain the effected decks, and find out what penetrated us – a job
for your new assistant, perhaps? I want a detailed report from you in
thirty minutes!” The doctor entered her chamber. The door whirred
shut behind her.
Commandant Fumbla turned and faced his new assistant. His
expression clearly gave away his anxiety. “I have no confidence in
your abilities, Roubella Moul, so this task will reveal your ineptitude
to all, especially Doctor Combobulay.”
Sind’a Thighs narrowed her eyes. “My abilities are far in
excess of what I need to perform the duties of assistant commandant,
commandant.”
The commandant grinned. “Your unevenly plump torso
indicates otherwise. I shall enjoy watching you crushed.”
The bounty hunter said nothing.
The commandant continued. “Go and find out what smashed
into this submarine. Now!”
Sind’a Thighs glared at the commandant for a second, and then
turned. Suppressing a grin, she strode purposefully off the terrace.
15 Yellow Frogs Wearing Sandals
A powerful flow of frigid water flooded into the BULIT Diver. After
the initial pressure subsided, Panman clambered out, safe and cosy in
57
his sealed environment suit. He looked around and grinned. His

amazing subconscious skills had surprised even him. With accuracy
beyond comprehension he had guided the BULIT Diver directly into
what appeared to be a gigantic submerged vessel, and a rather weak-
hulled one at that.
A loud clanking noise started. Rapidly, the water around
Panman disappeared as it was pumped away. A short piecing hiss
echoed round the chamber he had crashed into. He looked up. The
hole in the ceiling had been sealed by a toothpaste-like substance -
crude, but effective.
And then a doorway in a nearby wall whooshed open.
With the reactions of a wartugger, the bounty hunter pulled his
pistol from his suit’s thigh holster. He dropped to his knees and aimed.
Two figures dressed in black armoured suits appeared at the doorway.
Panman fired, sending blinding beams of death through their bodies.
Their armour, useless against such a fierce onslaught, melted like
cheese on a hotplate. The two figures dropped to the floor, white
flames rising from their wounds.
Pleased with his work, Panman got to his feet and stepped over
to the door, ignoring the weak groans from the mortally wounded
figures lying at his feet. He peered out into the vaulted corridor
beyond. It was wide, and lit in shades of amber and green – a
revolting combination. It seemed deserted. As he started to take a
step forward, the bounty hunter saw a hint of movement at the far end.
Immediately, he ducked to his knees again and took aim. He fired. A
lethal beam of energy laced forwards, burning into a bulkhead. It
exploded in a violent spray of molten debris. In the distance, a figure,
cloaked in blue, rolled across the corridor. Panman fired again, just
missing the figure’s noticeably plump midsection. For such an
overweight individual, the figure was moving with remarkable speed.
Panman was impressed.
A voice, female and assertive, shouted. “Cease fire! Yellow
frogs wearing sandals are composing symphonies and cooking
lentils!”
Panman immediately recognised the coded sentence. He
shouted back. “Understood.”
The blue-cloaked figure emerged from behind a bulkhead and
ran towards the bounty hunter. Within seconds she reached him.
Panman pulled her into the chamber, almost tripping over the still-
moaning guards on the floor.
Panman looked at her. He opened his visor. “Sind’a Thighs! I
was wondering what had happened to you!” He looked up and down
her apparently fat and uneven body. “You’re physique is not as
58
pleasing as it used to be. Have you been letting yourself go, or

something? I’d heard that you were a gym junky. You look more like
a lard junky!”
She shook her head. “No! My body is still toned and alluring.
This is all padding. I’m disguised as someone else.”
“Hmm… I see. The person you’re disguised as obviously has a
hideous waistline and butt-shape, and the most lopsided breasts I’ve
ever seen. What made you choose that person? In fact, why are you
down in this submarine in the first place?”
Sind’a Thighs bowed her head. She was obviously ashamed.
“My ship was shot down and I crash landed.”
Panman shook his head. “Not a good result for your first solo
mission, and with a new ship, too. From the schematics, the Butt
Muffin looked like a superb piece of design and engineering –
especially the bathing room.”
The lesser bounty hunter kept looking at the floor, and at the
groaning guards that still lay there. “Yes, its shower was incredible.”
“Continue.”
“After I realised that the Butt Muffin was irreparable, I left to
explore. Shortly after I saw some giant humanoid-shaped machines,
known as Kretins, come out of the ocean. They destroyed my ship.”
Panman gasped. “A capital offence!”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “The ship’s defences managed to
disable one of the machines. When the others had left I climbed
inside the remaining Kretin. It was there that I met Rebecca Moul, the
only surviving crew member. I forced her to drive the Kretin to its
base deep under the sea. When we arrived, she died. So I took the
opportunity to disguise myself as her.”
Panman nodded. “Cool idea!”
Sind’a Thighs continued. “It was then that I was told that
Doctor Combobulay, the person running this operation, would like to
see me. When the doctor arrived at the base she took me onboard this
submarine – know as the 'ebulon.” The bounty hunter looked up and
grinned at Panman. “By sheer fluke I found myself promoted to third
in command of this vessel!”
Panman did not hide his admiration. “Whoa! Fantastic! Your
error in letting yourself get shot down has been well and truly
cancelled out by that insane turn of events!”
“Thank you!”
“Amazing! It’s not usual for recently qualified bounty hunters
to infiltrate deviant organisations that successfully, and to that level.
It usually takes a decade of tough and near-fatal missions before that
happens. Well done!”
59
Sind’a Thighs beamed. “I was rather pleased with myself.”

“You should be. Peter the Ace will lavish you with praise when
he finds out. He’s up on the surface creating nuclear havoc as we
speak!”
The lesser bounty hunter’s eyes fluttered at the thought of being
lavished by Peter the Ace. Quickly, she regained her focus. “Yes, I
saw the Blenheim earlier. A large number of Kretins have been sent to
destroy it.”
Panman grinned. “Cool! The diversion worked as planned!”
His face turned serious. “Now, we must plan the downfall of this
doctor. She sounds like a formidable person, strong and muscular,
with a cunning and astute mind.”
“Actually,” Sind’a Thighs said, “she’s a wiry, smelly and
incontinent old woman who travels around in an electric wheelchair.”
Panman entered a thoughtful pose. “Interesting. I wonder how
she got into this position of power?”
One of the moaning guards on the floor lolled his head onto
Sind’a Thighs’ left foot. She kicked him away, and then shook her
head. “I’m not sure. But I do know that there are hundreds of those
Kretins, and they are about to commence their primary mission,
whatever that is.”
Panman’s eyes widened. “Then we must act!” A groan from
the floor interrupted him. The bounty hunter looked down, aimed his
pistol, and then fired a low-powered burst into the head of each of the
guards.
The groaning ceased.
Sind’a Thighs was unfazed. “What do you suggest?”
Panman continued. “Well, normally I would find the power
source of this ship and cause it to overload. This vessel will be
destroyed, taking the incontinent doctor with it. Problem solved.”
“Great!”
“But, I’m intrigued by this doctor. I’m usually aware of the
demented megalomaniacs in this galaxy. It’s rare that I come across
one that I’ve never heard of. This Doctor Combobulay seems to have
come out of nowhere.” He grinned. “You are her third in command!
You can take me directly to her! Id like to chat with her before I
detonate this ship.”
Sudden realisation smacked into Sind’a Thigh’s mind. “I can
pretend you are my prisoner!”
Panman laughed. “Awesome!” He reached inside a
compartment in his utility belt. He held up a handful of grenades.
“We’d better make my capture look convincingly difficult!” Arming
one of the grenades, he chucked it out into the corridor.
60
A second later, a flaming wall of chaos shattered the calm.
16 Dirty Old Transistor Radio
With the help of her two maids, Doctor Satsuma Combobulay eased
herself down into her chair. Her bladder was empty, and she was
clean again. At least for the next few minutes, anyway. She looked
up at the maids. “You may go.” She said softly, and then paused for
effect before screaming. “Now!!!”
The maids bowed, and then left the doctor’s chamber.
Doctor Combobulay sighed, and then leaned back, relishing the
moment of peace. And then the communications panel on her chair’s
arm warbled. With the knobbly index finger of her wizened right
hand, she pressed the answer button. “I hope you have some good
news for me, Commandant Fumbla?”
“Yes, ma’am. An intruder has been captured down on deck
seven.”
The doctor grinned. “Very good! I assume it was my new
assistant commandant that captured the intruder?”
The commandant’s response was not immediate. “It was,
ma’am. She said that the prisoner wishes to meet with you.”
“Interesting. See that the intruder is brought up to my interview
chamber. I wish to look into this infiltrator’s eyes and see their
reaction as I inform them of their fate.”
“Assistant commandant Moul is approaching with the prisoner
now. I will send them to you.”
“Very good, commandant.” The doctor ended the
communications link. She laughed inanely for a few seconds, and
then drove her chair out of her chamber.
The wide door sank into the floor at freefall speed. Panman stepped
forwards and entered the small domed chamber beyond. He was
closely followed by Sind’a Thighs, whose pistol was wedged firmly
into the base of his neck.
The chamber was wide and ornately decorated with vile and
uncoordinated artwork, a clue as to the depraved and deluded mind of
the designer. A bearded man dressed in a blue fur cloak, stood in the
chamber.
61
Sind’a Thighs spoke to him. “Commandant. I am here with the

prisoner as ordered.”
The bearded man nodded. “Good. Doctor Combobulay will be
here shortly. She…”
A shrill and crackly voice shouted. “She is here now!”
Panman looked to the right. An old lady, wizened and feeble-
looking, sped into the chamber on a heavily built wheelchair. The
chair stopped at the chamber’s centre.
Panman was surprised. “Whoa! I knew you were an ancient
and wrinkly old woman, but I did not expect you to be this old and
wrinkly! Disgusting!” A strange smell, like a mixture of urine and
roses, entered his nose. He screwed up his face. “Oh! You’re truly
disgusting!”
The doctor struggled to her feet. Her legs trembled. “Silence!”
Panman grinned, pleased with his psychological manipulation,
but said nothing more.
Doctor Combobulay looked at Sind’a Thighs. “Assistant
Commandant Moul, your performance is outstanding. Again you
have impressed me!”
Sind’a Thighs bowed. “Thank you, doctor.”
“You may remove your weapon from the neck of the intruder.
This chamber’s weapons systems will protect me from any
aggression.”
Sind’a Thighs re-holstered her pistol inside her cloak.
Panman looked around; taking note of the automatic weapons
systems that had focused on him. There were four.
Doctor Combobulay spoke to the bounty hunter. “Your entry
into this vessel was impressive.”
Panman nodded. “I know.”
“And your insolence is even more impressive.”
“It’s not insolence. It’s complete confidence in my
considerable intellect and ability.”
The doctor laughed, bringing up a massive collection of phlegm
that dribbled down her bony chin. A maid appeared out of a side
entrance. With a large white cloth, she wiped the doctor’s chin. The
maid bowed, and then disappeared through the exit. “You were
captured easily by my assistant commandant. That does not make
your last statement very believable!”
Panman grinned. “Perhaps I planned to be captured? Perhaps
your assistant commandant is really one of my kind - an infiltrator –
keen to see your demise in the most wild, unruly and lengthy manner
possible?”
62
“Ha! Your obvious attempt to turn me into a paranoid mound

of jelly has failed! My assistant commandant is as loyal as it is
possible to be. Is that not right, Assistant Commandant Moul?”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “Indeed it is, doctor.”
The doctor glared at Panman. “See!!!”
Panman frowned. “I find it hard to believe you’re in charge of
this operation.”
The doctor raised her head. “Believe it! I am the mind and soul
behind what has happened on this world. I am the intelligence behind
the mechanism used to bring billions of tonnes of rock crashing down.
I am the designer of the motivational books and movies that keep my
crew focused on their tasks. And I am the sole formulator of the
mission of the Kretins, a mission that is, at this moment, being carried
out!”
“What mission is that?”
Doctor Combobulay laughed once more, this time catapulting
phlegm and saliva onto the chest panel of Panman’s environment suit.
“You do not have the mental capacity to understand.”
“I believe I do.”
The doctor was quiet for a few seconds. She looked Panman up
and down. “The fact that you are Panman, a first-class bounty hunter
from the Palace of Amino, means that you are simply a tool of the
Supreme Beings – nothing more.”
Panman was momentarily stunned at the doctor’s mention of his
identity and origin. He recovered instantly. “I am not surprised that
you know of me. I am legendary, and feared amongst the defecation-
brained miscreants of the core systems.”
“You are not legendary to me, bounty hunter. You are an
annoyance – nothing more!”
Panman continued his advanced psychological attack. “I am
well aware of all the worst and most atrocious villains. I don’t know
you, though. That could be for one of only two reasons: either you are
a new villain, fresh from the depraved breeding grounds of such
nefarious beings, or you are simply a pathetic loser who has achieved
nothing in her long life that would draw the attention of the Palace of
Amino.”
The doctor screamed; her voice crackling like a dirty old
transistor radio. “Silence! I am powerful and successful!”
“I doubt it. Whatever you’ve been up to during your obviously
long life, it has not attracted our attention. The importance of your
activities must be negligible.”
“My activities have never been negligible! They are always
momentous!”
63
Panman grinned. “No, definitely negligible. And because I am

unaware of your activities, they must also be negligible failures.”
Doctor Combobulay shrieked. “I am momentous!”
Panman shook his head slowly. “Pitiable, that’s what you are -
truly pitiable. I am ashamed even to look at you.” He looked down at
the floor, continuing to shake his head slowly. “Pitiable.”
The doctor, obviously agitated beyond belief, struggled to
maintain her stance. She failed, flopping back into her chair. Raising
her bony right arm, she pointed at Panman. “Crush him! Crush him
now!”
The bearded commandant, who had been standing patiently to
one side, drew a pistol from within his cloak. A wry smile spread
across his hairy face. He stepped towards Panman.
It was to be the commandant’s last step.
With the speed of an ovulating chuggasaur, Panman grabbed the
commandant’s arm and crushed his wrist. With his other hand the
bounty hunter ripped the pistol from the commandant’s hand, and then
elbowed him hard in the face, crushing the bone and cartilage in his
nose. Successfully sidestepping the first discharge from the
chamber’s automatic weapons system, Panman aimed and fired. The
commandant’s beard burst into flame as his neck vaporised. Before
the commandant’s severed head and body had even hit the floor,
Panman had turned and fired on two of the chamber’s weapons
systems, rendering them inactive.
Sind’a Thighs, noticing her superior’s move, had taken action
herself. Dropping to her knees, she aimed and fired her pistol,
neutralizing the other two automatic weapons systems in the room.
After a second of bone-crushing, skin-burning, spark-flying
mayhem, silence reigned for a moment. Now, both bounty hunters
had their pistols trained on Doctor Combobulay.
The doctor glared at Panman, and then at Sind’a Thighs. “You
treacherous little harlet!”
Sind’a Thighs fired, burning a neat hole through Doctor
Combobulay’s right shoulder. “Use that tone with me again and I’ll
open up your stomach!”
The doctor winced, and then smiled. With the flick of a switch,
her chair spun round and headed for the exit at the back of the
chamber.
Panman and Sind’a Thighs fired, burning huge gashes into the
chair’s obviously well-armoured back.
Panman pulled a grenade from his utility belt. “Down!” He
shouted, as he hurled the explosive. The back of the chamber erupted
64
into a ball of white flame. A shock wave thundered through the

chamber.
Sind’a Thighs looked up. The rear exit had closed just in time
to absorb the blast. Doctor Combobulay was nowhere to be seen.
17 Dark and Brooding
Peter the Ace watched the bleak and barren image on the Blenheim’s
main view-screen with interest. “How many now?”
The Blenheim replied. “THERE ARE NOW 415
UNIDENTIFIED MACHINES EMERGING FROM THE SEA.”
“Have you managed to scan one, yet?”
“SCAN RESULTS NOW AVAILABLE.”
The right side of the main view-screen changed to show details
of one of the machines. It was humanoid in shape, and more than 20
metres tall. A reflective domed head was perched between two huge
and bulky armoured shoulders. A dense array of what looked like
sensory equipment was wrapped around its thick iron-clad waist.
Peter the Ace turned to Justin, who was sitting on his reinforced
bench at the back of the bridge. “Look! They’re like you, only
bigger!”
Justin responded in his usual uninteresting manner. “Such a
comparison is purely superficial. The only resemblance to me is a
physical similarity to the proportions of my metallic humanoid form.”
Peter the Ace smiled. “That’s what I said.”
Before Justin could respond the Blenheim’s computer spoke.
“ALL HUMANOID MACHINES ARE CONVERGING ON THIS
LOCATION.”
The main view-screen showed the machines as they stomped
across the dark ash-covered beach several kilometres to the east.
“It looks like my little diversion worked perfectly. They’re
coming to get us!”
“WARNING: AN ENERGY BUILD-UP HAS BEEN
DETECTED WITHIN EACH HUMANOID MACHINE.”
Peter the Ace looked at his screens. “Hmm… Go to battle
mode!”
Immediately, the lighting on the bridge changed from a bright
and stylish ambience, to a dark and brooding level. Now, the only
light was from consoles and view-screens, each of which emanated
menacing shades of red and green – perfect for such an occasion.
65
“BATTLE MODE ACTIVATED. INTERNAL

ILLUMINATION LEVELS MINIMISED. SHIELDS RAISED…”
The Blenheim shuddered violently as all view-screens flashed
white, and then a massive jolt caused the ship to lurch upwards, lifting
Justin a metre off his reinforced bench. The cyborg crashed to the
floor. The crunch of metal was deafening.
“HOLO-GAME SYSTEM OFFLINE.”
Peter the Ace shook his head. “Panman will flip his lid when he
finds out about that!”
The ship lurched again.
“SHIELDS OVERLOADED. FAILURE IN NINE
SECONDS…”
Peter the Ace remained calm. “Forward disrupter – 90 degree
spread, six second duration, maximum strength. Fire!”
The main view-screen displayed the results as the pure white
disrupter beam arced its way across the beach. The front line of the
machines crumpled as the beam melted through their dense torsos,
sending huge clumps of molten metal curling into the dark sky. The
crippled machines crashed down into the sand and ash, their metal
bodies sliced neatly into two.
Peter the Ace looked at the statistics on the main view-screen.
142 machines destroyed. He smiled with satisfaction.
And then the remaining machines fired again. The Blenheim
shook violently, and then jerked backwards as a focus of energy
enveloped its hull.
Justin, who had been in the process of hauling his dense metal
frame back onto his bench, crashed back onto the floor.
The Blenheim spoke. “WARNING: SHIELD FAILURE.”
“Forward disrupter – same settings as before. Fire!”
“UNABLE TO COMPLY. ALL WEAPONS SYSTEMS OFF-
LINE.”
“All? Report!”
“ALL WEAPONS SYSTEMS OVERLOADED BY THE
ENERGY DISCHARGE EMANATING FROM THE HUMANOID
MACHINES. CONTROL AND DELIVERY MECHANISMS FOR
ALL WEAPONS SYSTEMS HAVE BEEN DISABLED.”
Peter the Ace thought fast. “Maximum forward thrust. Now!”
The Blenheim powered forwards, skimming low over the ash-
covered landscape. Within a second the ship passed over the giant
stomping machines, some of which were still emerging from the sea.
The acceleration was incredible, and within seconds the ship was
skimming low over the sea at over Mach-6, and churning up a swell of
black foaming water in its wake. The sensor view-screens showed
66
that the machines were turning in an attempt to realign their weapons,

but they were too slow and lumbering.
“Take us over the horizon from those machines and then come
to a full stop.”
A few seconds later the Blenheim decelerated rapidly, kicking
up an expansive spray of water as its retro-engines fired. The ship
now hovered a few metres above the ash-clogged sea, well away from
giant humanoid machines. The main view-screen showed the view
ahead – a black horizon of water and a grey and brown dust-filled sky
– a dismal and suicide-inducing panorama of lifeless desolation.
Peter the Ace spoke. “How long until the weapons systems and
shields are back online?”
“AUTO-REPAIR ACTIVATED. SHIELDS WILL BE BACK
ONLINE IN SIX HOURS AND SIX MINUTES.”
“Not bad.”
“WEAPONS SYSTEMS WILL BE BACK ONLINE IN FOUR
DAYS, THREE HOURS AND FORTY-THREE MINUTES.”
“Very bad. No shields and no weapons systems means I’m
going to have to be extra creative in coming up with another plan of
attack.”
Justin, who had just managed to get himself back to a seated
position on his bench, decided to make a statement. “Until the
weapons systems on this ship are repaired, it is impossible to continue
our attack on the humanoid machines.”
Peter the Ace turned and looked at the cyborg. His eyes
widened. “Your negativity and lack of imagination have just inspired
me to come up with a great idea! Thank you, my metal-shelled
friend!” He turned back to his console. “Blenheim, do we have any
functioning nuclear warheads?”
“ALL OF THE 32 REMAINING NUCLEAR WARHEADS
ARE FULLY FUNCTIONAL. ONLY THE DELIVERY METHOD
HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.”
“Superb!” Peter the Ace exclaimed, turning. “Justin? Go to
the rear warhead containment section. Grab three type-two warheads
and then take them to the upper rear cargo bay.”
The cyborg spoke, his voice completely devoid of expression.
“The transportation of weapons-grade nuclear material through the
habitable sections of a spacecraft is a violation of Palace of Amino
Safety Protocol 5-32-71.”
Peter the Ace frowned. “This is a time of war! You should be
well aware that safety protocols do not apply in such situations.”
Justin responded. “No formal declaration of war has been…”
67
“I am a first-class bounty hunter. I have authority, vested in me

by the Superior Beings, to declare and undeclared war whenever and
however I wish. I formally declare war on those machines. Do you
accept that there is now a formal declaration of war against those
machines?”
Justin paused for a second, and then replied. “Yes.”
Peter the Ace pointed to the exit of the bridge. “Then carry out
my order. Immediately!”
The cyborg got to his feet. “I obey.” With a whirr of his
cumbersome servo and hydraulic mechanisms, Justin turned and
stomped noisily off the bridge.
18 Thong
At the very bottom of the 'ebulon’s huge spherical command centre,

a door whooshed open. Doctor Combobulay raced in on her still
smouldering chair. “Where is that bitch?!”
All of the crew members gazed down at the doctor from their
terraces and balconies. Not one of them answered.
The doctor was fuming. Her clothes were blackened and badly
damaged from the onslaught by Panman and the traitor, Roubella
Moul. And her shoulder had been stripped of all skin and muscle.
She did not seem concerned about that right now. “Who is in charge
here?!”
Again, no answer.
The doctor shouted; her voice rough and distressed.
“Commandant Fumbla has been decapitated. Assistant Commandant
Moul has betrayed us to join the infiltrator. So, for the last time, who
is next in command?!”
A small, round and bald man with an extensive collection of
warts on his left cheek peered down and waved. “That would be me,
ma’am. Colonel Hilber Hamblaba.”
The doctor was visibly stunned. “How did a pitiful and hairless
fat man such as you reach such a position?”
“Commandant Fumbla appointed me, ma’am.” Colonel
Hamblaba said nervously. “He was impressed with my organisational
skills, and my ability to work well with others. He was particularly
impressed with my unique leadership skills, especially my ability to
motivate people to achieve their goals by squeezing one of my
many…”
68
“Enough!” Doctor Combobulay screamed. “There is no time

for idle chatter! The infiltrator is loose on this ship again, and that
treacherous bitch, Roubella Moul, is with him. Find them and kill
them!”
The colonel nodded. “Of course, ma’am.” He turned to his
right and whispered some orders.
The doctor shouted again. “And get this ship out of the sea.
Take us off-world immediately!”
The blast was intense. With a deafening clatter, the razor-sharp

shrapnel from the grenade cut through the group of crew members,
perforating them all in an instant. They fell and gushed blood and
innards onto the floor’s smooth polished surface.
Panman peeked out from his hiding place. “Wow, perfect!
Let’s go!” Beckoning Sind’a Thighs to follow, he sprinted quickly
passed the twitching cadavers and gut-splattered walls and stopped at
a large doorway.
Sind’a Thighs recognised the door. “This is the entrance to the
Example Chamber.”
Panman fiddled with the door’s control panel. “Sounds
interesting.” A second later the door opened. The Example
Chamber’s large oval interior was revealed. Panman strolled in and
over to one of the many large tinted glass vases, each illuminated by a
spotlight on the high ceiling. He peered inside. “Shrivelled dudes!”
He exclaimed. He turned to his companion. “What an odd thing to
collect! Doctor Combobulay is one major freak of a megalomaniac!”
Sind’a Thighs explained. “Actually, they’re former crew
members. This is how the doctor punishes acts of incompetence.”
Panman shook his head. “Only a weak leader with a total
inability to inspire their subordinates would consider the need for such
a punishment.”
Sind’a Thighs agreed, and then said. “Or a leader with an
unhealthy compressed corpse obsession?”
Panman smiled. He looked at the lesser bounty hunter. “What
an insane suggestion! You impress me more and more each time we
meet. Well done!”
Sind’a Thighs blushed, and then lowered her head. Her
breathing deepened. “You honour me beyond what I deserve. I am
eternally grateful.”
The chamber began to vibrate, and then gravity seemed to shift.
Panman spoke. “This ship’s moving up and accelerating. I
think we’re…”
69
A blast of energy, thin and precise, burned into the back of

Panman’s armoured environment suit. He was thrown forwards onto
Sind’a Thighs, his back awash in sparks and flames. With a hiss
Panman’s suit’s fire suppression system activated, quashing the fire.
Protected by Panman’s bulk, Sind’a Thighs reached round her
superior and fired her pistol several times. “There are six of them!”
She fired a few more shots. “Make that four!”
Panman turned, rolled, and then fired. At the far doorway
another crew member dropped to the floor, his head a ball of flaming
charred flesh and bone. Three remained. They ducked down, firing
wildly as they did so.
Sind’a Thighs leapt for cover behind one of the giant vases.
Panman allowed his suit to absorb another shot as he aimed to
the right of crew members. He fired. The base of one of the vases
exploded, sending the vase crashing down. One of the crew members
screamed as the shattering vase crushed him. The vase’s shrivelled
contents spilled out. Satisfied with the result, Panman fired at the base
of another vase, to similar effect. The bounty hunter laughed out loud.
At least a dozen more crew members arrived.
Panman ran to Sind’a Thighs. “Although this is fun, I think it’s
time we left.” He pulled out a disk-shaped object from his belt and
fiddled with a small control panel on its surface.
Sind’a Thighs’ eyes widened. “That’s a hyper-hot-shatter-
bomb!”
Panman grinned as another blast cut into his environment suit.
His fire suppression system activated once again. “Indeed it is!”
“But those are designed to rip open the hulls of huge ships!
Using one of those now would be…”
“Insane?”
Sind’a Thighs paused for a second, and then nodded. “I
understand.” She bowed her head. “I should have realised. Please
forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven. Anyway, it’s not as insane as you think. I’ve
set it to its lowest power setting.” He flicked a switch on the disk.
“Head for the rear exit. You go first. I’ll absorb as much of their fire
as I can to protect you. Now!”
Sind’a Thighs ran. Panman dropped the hyper-hot-shatter-
bomb and then followed her. Immediately a barrage of fire erupted.
Panman took several direct hits, his suit bursting into flames. His
suit’s fire suppression system activated yet again. Another blast
skimmed Sind’a Thighs, igniting her blue cloak and suit. The two
bounty hunters left the Example Chamber. Panman turned and
operated the door controls. The entrance to the Example Chamber
70
was sealed. He turned to Sind’a Thighs. She had already removed

her burning cloak, and was now unzipping her smouldering suit.
She looked at Panman. “I took a hit! Just in the padding,
fortunately.” She continued undressing, removing the suit and the
padding. She stood, wearing nothing but a tight pair of black Palace
of Amino thongs and tube bra. Her well-toned and lightly-tanned
body was obviously tense with excitement.
Panman smiled.
With an incredible bang and punch, the whole floor shuddered.
The door to the Example Chamber crumpled outwards.
“Cool!” Panman exclaimed. “Right, we need to get up to the
bridge. I need to finish my ‘conversation’ with the doctor, and also
find out where this ship’s going.”
Sind’a Thighs grinned. “No problem. I know the way from
here!”
“Then off you go!”
Sind’a Thighs turned and ran, her toned buttocks flexing and
relaxing in a highly-trained and expertly coordinated manner.
With pleasure, Panman followed.
19 Catapulted Sculpture
Holding three large cone-shaped nuclear warheads under his bulky left
arm, Justin entered the Blenheim’s upper rear cargo bay. Once he had
passed through the single heavily armoured door, it whisked shut
behind him, its quiet and refined motion far superior to the cyborg’s
own noisy and jerky movements.
The upper rear cargo bay was the ship’s smallest, less than a
hundred square metres in size, and was used as mainly as a store for
Panman’s vast culinary requirements. Crates of cured meat, giant
cheeses and several huge freezers took up more than half the space.
The rest of the cargo bay was empty – spare room to store any exotic
new foods that the perpetually famished bounty hunter may discover
during trips to more remote systems.
Justin activated his internal communicator and placed a call to
the bridge.
Peter the Ace answered. “How are things going, Justin?”
The cyborg answered the question in his usual dry and lifeless
manner. “I am now located in the upper rear cargo bay. I am holding
three type-two nuclear warheads as instructed.”
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“Excellent!”
“I require further orders.”
“Indeed you do, and here they are. I want you to open the side
external door, climb outside, and then make your way onto the topside
of the ship. Position yourself in the centre right in front of the engine
section.”
“I obey.” Justin said. He began to stomp towards the large
external doorway that was angled to match the curved wall and ceiling
of the cargo bay.
“Keep tight hold of those warheads!”
The cyborg’s armoured left arm tightened its grip. “I obey.”
Justin reached the external door. With his free hand he reached
out and pushed the button marked ‘Open’. A brief flurry of
inquisitive activity probed the cyborg’s digital mind as the Blenheim
pondered whether or not to authorisation the opening of the door. In
an instant, authorisation was granted. With a gentle whoosh, the door
snapped outwards slightly, and then slid away to the right.
A gust of frigid wind blew into the cargo bay as the dark vista
of the ash-ridden ocean was revealed. A faint mist of water could be
see wafting up from the ship’s underside as the deep roar of
Blenheim’s thrusters pushed against the sea.
Without any emotional reaction at all, Justin stomped to the
edge and reached round the side of the doorway with his right hand.
He grabbed onto one of the ridges in the ship’s outer armour plating,
and then allowed his cumbersome metal body to swing out. He
slammed into the ship’s hull.
The cargo door whooshed shut, leaving the cyborg locked
firmly outside.
Looking up, Justin began to climb up to the Blenheim’s topside,
carefully avoid some of the charred weapons systems in his way –
damaged by the discharge from those giant humanoid machines.
Within a minute, the cyborg was standing on the ship’s topside. He
turned to face the ship’s engine section and clunked his way to a
central position. Once there he turned and faced the front of the ship.
He stood there for a moment, looking remarkable proud holding an
armful of nuclear warheads. Of course, he did not feel proud. He felt
absolutely nothing at all. He spoke. “I am now positioned at the
central point of the topside hull directly in front of the engine section.”
“Marvellous!”
“I require further orders.”
“Here’s the plan. I’ve programmed the ship to head back
towards those humanoid machines. About a hundred kilometres from
their position the ship will climb and accelerate to 4, 350 kilometres
72
per hour. At an altitude of 8,500 metres I want you to let go. The ship
will then dive and return to a low altitude to avoid the risk of further
damage from those machines.
“You, of course, will continue heading towards the machines in
a long ballistic arc. Just after you reach the peak of your arc, you will
activate and drop each of your warheads. You will drop them in such
a manner as to spread them evenly along a 35 kilometre stretch of the
coastline where those machines are emerging from the sea.
“Once you’ve dropped the warheads, you will, of course,
continue on your flight until you hit the ground approximately 26
kilometres inland.”
Justin droned a reply. “The role of ‘Multiple Warhead Ballistic
Missile’ is not part of my functional specification.”
“Your functional specification is not fixed. It’s fully extendible,
and I’m extending it!”
“I am not configured for a ballistic flight mode. I no longer
have the ability to sustain flight following the permanent removal of
my propulsion system 25 years ago.”
“You do not need to be configured for a ballistic flight mode!
You’ll automatically enter a ‘ballistic mode’ when you’re thrown off
the ship, and your momentum will maintain your flight long enough to
drop the warheads. You can use your plate-like feet to create
resistance and make corrections to your course if necessary.”
The cyborg processed the information he had just been given.
“I am not configured for a high-velocity impact.”
The tone of Peter the Ace’s voice hinted at his growing
impatience. “Ten years ago you entered the atmosphere of the planet
Gun-Loc at orbital velocity, streaked to the surface in a ball of blazing
plasma, and then crashed into the centre of the planet’s largest city
creating a crater half a kilometre wide. And you could still walk! You
are more than capable of surviving this.”
“My collision with the planet Gun-Loc caused extensive
damage to my body. My plate-like feet were…”
“'o more discussion! Your impact on this task will be nowhere
near as violent. You will follow my orders without question!
Understood?”
Justin had no choice but to obey a bounty hunter. “I understand.
I obey.”
“Excellent! Secure yourself to the ship. This is going to be one
fantastic acceleration experience! ”
The cyborg energised the powerful electro-magnets in his feet,
locking himself to the hull. He then bent over and grabbed a handhold
with his free right hand. “I am now securely attached to the ship.”
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Immediate, the Blenheim powered forwards. The air howled

around Justin’s bulky metal body as the ship accelerated at an
astounding rate. It began to climb, rising rapidly away from the dark
ocean and up towards the dust-clogged clouds above.
“Justin, I’m sending you data on your trajectory and when
you’re to drop your warheads. And also when to let go!”
Justin felt a surge of digital activity as his electronic mind
absorbed the information. “I have received and assimilated the data.”
“Great! Good luck!”
The Blenheim entered the clouds, and visibility dropped to
almost zero.
As swirls of moisture and dust sped passed at incredible speed,
and the wind howled at a deafening pitch, Justin received an
instruction. Following the instruction, he deactivated his electro-
magnets, let go with his right hand, and then pushed hard with his
leg’s powerful servo-mechanisms. The ship fell away into the clouds.
Justin continued in an upwards trajectory. Seconds later an intense
flood of sunlight hit him as he broke free from the cloud cover. Like a
catapulted sculpture, the cyborg soared on the planned ballistic arc
high above the grey and brown sheet of clouds below.
Justin received another instruction.
Accessing the guidance system of each warhead, the cyborg
passed on the targeting information. Each warhead responded. Justin
armed each warhead.
For another minute Justin soared, reaching and then passing the
peak of his arc.
And then the cyborg received a final set of instructions.
With a pre-calculated direction and force, Justin threw each
warhead, and then watched for a second as they sped down to the
clouds below. He analysed their paths, and then activated his
communicator and made a report. “The three nuclear warheads have
been released. They are all on the correct heading for their targets.”
Peter the Ace responded. “Good work, I’m proud of you. Safe
landing!”
Before Justin could reply the communications channel was
closed.
With the grace of a badly chipped brick, Justin plummeted back
below the clouds. Turning, he angled himself feet down and prepared
to land.
74
20 Idiots
Doctor Combobulay was still at the base of the command centre. See
looked up at the terraces and balconies above and yelled. “For the last
time, tell me what that was?”
A timid-looking woman, chubby-cheeked and pale, looked
down from one of the upper balconies. “There was an explosion,
ma’am.”
The doctor trembled. “I assumed that, you pasty cow!
Where?”
The pale woman glanced at one of her screens. “It was in the
Example Chamber, ma’am.”
“What?!” The doctor exclaimed, frowning. “What’s the status
of the Example Canisters?”
“All are compromised, ma’am.”
The doctor placed her hands on either side of her head. “All?!”
“Yes, ma’am. There was a gun battle in there. Apparently the
infiltrator and the assistant commandant were there along with quite a
few crew members.”
The doctor took a deep breath, calming herself slightly. “Were
the infiltrator and that deceitful bitch killed?”
The woman shook her head. “No, ma’am. They escaped. I’m
now tracking them in corridor 14-C. They are approaching this deck.”
“Send crew members to stop them! They must not get here!”
“There are many crew members assigned to intercepting them,
ma’am, but the infiltrator and the assistant commandant are proving
difficult to…”
The doctor screwed her eyes up with rage. “Do not give me
excuses!” She breathed noisily. “Show me images of them on the
screen. Now!”
The chubby woman nodded. A large view-screen near the
doctor flickered to life. The doctor stared at it intently. There,
rounding a corner in a corridor, she could see Panman. Next to him
was a virtually naked and remarkably slim Roubella Moul. Two crew
members appeared behind the two infiltrators and fired their weapons.
The doctor watched as Panman’s suit absorbed the energy blasts. The
bounty hunter turned and fired, burning a cauterised hole straight
through the chest of one of the crew members. The crew member
slumped to the floor. Roubella Moul fired, blasting away the other
crew member’s right arm. And then she leapt forwards, kicking out
hard at her target’s head. The crew member fell backwards and
75
slammed into the floor. His body twitched; his neck vertebrae
shattered. The other crew member was still alive. The doctor
watched as Panman withdrew a knife from his belt. He stepped over
to the fallen crew member and stabbed hard and fast into his left eye.
The crew member shuddered as the knife entered his brain, and then
shuddered again as Panman twisted and withdrew the blade. Panman
and Roubella Moul continued running down the corridor.
Doctor Combobulay was fuming. “This is not acceptable! Is
everyone in my crew incompetent useless bungling idiots who die the
instant they come into contact with an infiltrator?!”
The chubby woman spoke. “The infiltrator is very powerful,
ma’am. He appears to be an expert in all forms of combat, and his
suit seems to…”
“Ensure the command centre is sealed! Stop them entering here
at all costs!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The doctor turned. “Where are we now!”
A fat wart-covered bald man answered. It was Colonel Hilber
Hamblaba. “We’ll be leaving the atmosphere in a couple of minutes,
ma’am. We’ll be in a stable orbit in…”
“Forget stable orbits! Take us to my fortress. Now!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Doctor Combobulay moved her chair. “I am going up to my
chamber. As soon as I get there I demand an update on the progress
of the Kretins attacking that ship, and details on the progress of the
primary mission.”
With a whirr of servos and actuators, the doctor and her chair
sped out of the command centre.
21 A Bizarre and Funny-Looking Ship
With the blinding glare of three multi-megaton nuclear detonations

illuminating the landscape from the east, Justin slammed at almost
400 kilometres per hour into an ash-strewn plain. The impact threw
up a thick cloud of the ash that glowed brightly in the yellowing light.
Immediately, warning symbols and alerts popped up into the
cyborg’s field of vision. There was plenty of minor damage that
would affect his stability and performance – weakened servos,
hydraulic leaks, and several dents in embarrassing locations. But no
76
essential systems were off-line, and his power supply was functioning
normally. He filed the alerts in his maintenance log, ready to be fixed
at his next service.
The light from the detonations was fading now, and turning
orange, and the cloud of ash Justin had kicked up had drifted away.
With many of his servos groaning, the cyborg got to his feet and
turned to look east. Three impressive mushroom clouds were
climbing high above the horizon, their wide and swelling heads
glowing deep amber behind the uneven net of soot that surrounded
them.
A wall of blackness was approaching. Rapidly it gained height,
until it obscured the mushroom clouds completely. Justin was
plunged into darkness, and then with an incredible punch a supersonic
blast wave swept him off his feet.
Justin was airborne once again.
Peter the Ace had watched the bridge’s main view-screen with delight
as the events of the attack unfolded. The left side had showed the
progress of Justin’s ballistic flight with an impressive 3D rending of
his journey. The right half of the screen had showed a live image of
the three massive detonations, along with an overlay of their effects.
The data regarding the humanoid machines showed that the attack had
been an unqualified success. Almost all had been destroyed. Just a
few stragglers remained. They were wandering, heavily damaged,
back towards the sea. Whatever they were for, they were no longer
capable of doing it.
But the bounty hunter was no longer concerned with the events
on the ground. He was watching some other information on a sensor
panel on his console. Two-hundred kilometres to the east, something
large, cumbersome and revoltingly coloured had emerged from the sea.
It was currently accelerating up through the atmosphere.
Peter the Ace operated a few controls. The main view-screen
switched to an enhanced image of the unidentified vessel. It was
almost two kilometres in length, and covered in curved and bulging
panels. Its colour was a highly unappealing shade of mouldy green. It
disappeared through the thick cloud layer.
Peter the Ace made a decision. “Blenheim, follow that vessel.
Match its speed and stay 100 kilometres directly behind it.”
The ship rumbled as its powerful thrusters fired.
The communications panel bleeped. It was Justin calling. Peter
the Ace answered. “Hello, Justin! See, I told you you’d survive. Not
too much damage, I hope?”
77
“My diagnostic systems have logged 146 minor faults.”

“Only minor? Excellent! You must be very pleased with
yourself.”
“I am incapable of experiencing pleasure.”
“Ah yes, of course. Never mind.”
The Blenheim was now above the clouds and bathed in bright
sunlight.
“My task has been completed. I require further orders.”
Peter the Ace thought for a second. “Hmm… I can’t think of
anything at the moment. Stay where you are and take a break.”
“I wish to return to the ship and perform more detailed
diagnostic tests on…”
“Sorry, my artificial friend, but I’m busy at the moment. I’ve
just detected an unidentified vessel which I must follow.”
“In my compromised condition it is not recommended for me to
be exposed to the levels of fine ash and dust that…”
“As I mentioned before, I’m busy.” Peter the Ace said, as he
dexterously played with his control console. “Your damage is not
serious. Think positive! Do something constructive down there.”
The image on the main view-screen zoomed to show the
unidentified vessel as it left the upper atmosphere and entered space.
“My task generation subsystem is unable to identify any
constructive tasks to perform on this planet.”
“Then your task generation subsystem needs upgrading! I can
think of one task without any artificial help. The scans of the surface
that Sind’a Thighs performed before she was shot down indicated that
some intelligent life did survive the initial impacts. It would be very
constructive indeed of you to find some of that life and offer
assistance. Do you have the data from Sind’a Thighs’ scans lodged in
that synthetic head of yours?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent! Off you go then!”
“I obey.”
Peter the Ace closed the communications channel and returned
his attention to the main view-screen. Without the restriction of an
atmosphere, the unidentified vessel was now accelerating quickly and
heading away from the planet Droog at quite an impressive rate –
impressive, at least, for such a bizarre and funny-coloured ship.
“Blenheim, continue following that ship. If it enters subspace,
follow, but increase our distance to 100,000 kilometres.”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“Create a message to the Palace of Amino that includes all the
new information we’ve gathered on the events on Droog. Include
78
details of our attack on those humanoid machines, and Justin’s current

position. Tell them to send another bounty hunter – fifth or sixth-class
will do. The bounty hunter is required to deal with the remaining
humanoid machines, and to recover Justin.”
“MESSAGE CREATED.”
“Code the message as RUNT – Relatively Unimportant, but
Necessary and Thought-provoking.”
“MESSAGE CODED.”
“Use a scrambled encrypted encoded secure channel – priority
two. Send now.”
“MESSAGE SENT.”
“Good stuff! One more thing; perform a level-two pulse-scan
of the unidentified ship. I want to know as much about its armaments,
defences, shields, and main propulsion system as possible. Most
importantly, I want to know its weaknesses.”
“A LEVEL-TWO PULSE SCAN OF THE UNIDENTIFIED
VESSEL WILL TAKE 32-MINUTES TO COMPLETE. A
STANDARD SCAN WOULD TAKE ONLY FIVE SECONDS.”
The bounty hunter frowned. “I know that! But a standard scan
is easily detectable, a pulse scan is not. Start the scan.”
“LEVEL-TWO PULSE SCAN OF THE UNIDENTIFIED
VESSEL INITIATED…”
“Splendid!” Peter the Ace operated the internal communicator.
“Jemima?”
The Blenheim’s assistant answered. “Hi! What can I do for
you?”
“I’m going to my quarters for a short break. Bring me a round
of chicken, pesto and basil sandwiches, and a small bottle of our finest
sparkling white wine. One from Enchantia’s Suculan Hills region
should suffice.”
“Of course. I’ll be there in three minutes!”
Peter the Ace leapt out of his plush command chair and back-
flipped onto his feet. “Blenheim, when you get the results of the scan,
send them to my quarters.”
With a squeak of his battle-boots, the first-class bounty hunter
turned elegantly on the spot, and then strode proudly off the bridge.
79
22 Concentrated Levels of Stupidity
“You are lying!” Doctor Combobulay screamed. Her voice crackled

with high levels of nervous tension. “How dare you lie to me?!”
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba stood in the doctor’s chamber and
shuddered nervously, his blubbery frame wobbling beneath his blue
overalls. His round and wart-filled face was even more pale than
usual. “I’m afraid the information I’ve given you is correct, ma’am.”
The doctor’s face was screwed up with disbelief and rage. “I
am surrounded by layer after layer of ineptitude! I am stifled by
idiocy, and by some of the most concentrated levels of stupidity ever
known!” She shivered for a second, and then took a deep breath. She
wheezed like a terminally ill smoker. “I trust that the surviving
Kretins are continuing with the primary mission?”
Taking an incredible personal risk, the colonel shook his head.
“The surviving Kretins are unable to continue with the primary
mission until they have been repaired, ma’am. They are returning to
their bases.”
Doctor Combobulay slammed her fists onto her chair.
“Unforgivable! Tell them to return to their mission immediately!”
“But ma’am, they are damaged and…”
The doctor wobbled to her feet. Her voice dropped an octave.
“Do you dare to challenge me?!”
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba was shocked by the doctor’s
expression. “I… I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am. I am just advising
you that…”
“Do as I ask!”
The colonel bowed. “Of course, ma’am.” He turned and
headed for the chamber’s exit.
Doctor Combobulay shrieked. She grabbed the arm of her chair
to steady herself. “I have not finished with you!”
The colonel stopped and turned. He bowed deeply. “Forgive
me, ma’am.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed, her heavily lined face creasing like
an antique accordion. She sat down. “You have not yet told me what
happened to that ship that the Kretin’s were supposed to destroy.”
“Ah, yes.” The colonel said. “Well, after the Kretins’ second
attack the ship retreated at high speed out over the sea until it was no
longer visible on their sensors. The attack by the unidentified ballistic
object occurred around 20 minutes later. That’s about it, ma’am.”
“Where is that ship now?”
80
“When the 'ebulon emerged from the sea the ship was detected
again. It looked like it was going to follow us, but then we lost
contact with it.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed even further. “So, it definitely did
not follow us. Is that what you’re implying?”
“Erm… No, ma’am. I’m implying that we are not sure if the
ship is following us or not. We lost contact when it flew directly
behind us. The discharge from our Esultuph Version-4 propulsion
system causes massive interference with our Nokyab-Nivec third
generation sensor array. When we are cruising it is impossible to get a
clear scan of what is behind us.”
The doctor’s eyes were wide with disbelief and fury. “Why
were systems with such ridiculous levels of incompatibly installed?!”
She shuddered. “Incompetence!!!”
“The ship was constructed to your specifications, ma’am.”
The doctor scowled. “I expected my design advisors to inform
me of such incompatibilities!”
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba swallowed hard. “But ma’am, if I
remember rightly, the first advisor that raised such an issue was
mercilessly butchered in a truly horrific manner. After that, no other
advisor would dare to…”
Doctor Combobulay barked. “Point taken, colonel.” She
paused for a second. “See! I am not as conceited as you would
believe.”
“No, ma’am.”
I assume we have a means of obtaining a visual scan to the rear
of this ship?”
“I’m afraid we do not, ma’am.”
The doctor fumed. “Plain and simple ineptitude! It’s
everywhere I look! Why not?!”
The colonel strained to maintain his composure. “Again, the
design of this vessel did not include an imaging system that could be
directed towards the rear. Actually, I think that the aforementioned
advisor was trying to explain that fact when his throat was torn from
his neck by a…”
“Again, point taken!”
Five seconds of awkward silence passed.
The doctor had managed to calm herself. “Do we have a
window that looks towards the rear?”
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba sighed with relief. Finally he could
say something positive. “Yes, ma’am. There’s a maintenance
viewport between the two main engine radiators. It’s used when
engineers need to…”
81
“Stop waffling! Send a crew member there immediately to see

what’s following us.”
The colonel bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now!!!”
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba scurried out of the doctor’s chamber.
23 Sallow-Faced Tub
Gripping tightly onto the camera mounting, Panman jerked his body
hard. In a spray of sparks, the mounting was torn from the ceiling,
sending the bounty hunter crashing to the floor.
The first-class bounty hunter got to his feet. He looked down at
the sparking camera that he was holding. “That’s the last of them.”
He looked at Sind’a Thighs. She was wiping acres of blood off her
near naked body. “I still find it hard to believe that none of these
cameras was concealed. What brain-dead ignoramus designed this
ship?”
Sind’a Thighs was finishing wiping clean her lightly-tanned
calves. “The doctor, I presume.”
Panman frowned. “Yeah, that hideous, physically-deceptive
pseudo-crone has a lot to answer for. I must reveal her true form.”
Sind’a Thighs discarded the towel she had been using. “What
‘true form’?”
“I won’t tell you now.” Panman said, grinning. “I don’t want
to spoil the surprise!” He dropped the camera. It slammed noisily
onto the floor.
The lesser bounty hunter obviously loved surprises. “I can’t
wait! Shall we do it?”
Panman nodded and pulled a disc-shaped object from his belt –
another hyper-hot-shatter-bomb. He fiddled with its controls. It
whirred. “Not the ideal tool for the job, but it’ll still be effective.” He
placed it on the wall to his right. He operated another of its controls.
A high-pitched drilling sound could be heard as small bolts ground
into the wall. The bounty hunter let go of the bomb. It remained on
the wall, securely attached. He looked at Sind’a Thighs. “Only ten
seconds! Let’s go!”
The two bounty hunters sprinted rapidly away from the bomb.
Rounding an unevenly-designed corner, Sind’a Thighs crouched down
against the wall. Panman crouched over her, protecting her with his
armoured environment suit.
82
A blinding light, brighter – and briefly hotter – than the Padyn

system’s artificial sun, flashed into existence, accompanied by a deep
and resonant long-lasting thud. And then there was a multitude of
clattering and zipping sounds, accompanied by several distant screams.
As the noise faded, smoke started to fill the passageway.
Pulling his pistol from its holster, Panman spoke. “Ready?”
Sind’a Thighs was also holding her pistol. She nodded.
“Ready.”
Panman stood and ran round the corner. Sind’a Thighs
followed. What greeted them was a shocking sight. Through the
clearing smoke could be seen a gaping jagged hole several metres
across. Beyond was a huge spherical chamber, filled with balconies
and gantries, many of which were now perforated by the diamond-
hard, razor-sharp pieces of shrapnel released by the bomb.
The moaning and whimpering of mutilated and mortally
wounded crew members added to the morose atmosphere.
Leaping through the hole, Panman fired his pistol several times,
ending instantly the agony for six of the closest crew members.
Grabbing a set of railings, the bounty hunter swung himself up and
onto one of the lower balconies. A partially dismembered crew
member, half incinerated by a burning console, staggered forwards in
a foolish attempt to stop Panman. A second later the crew member’s
body crumpled to the floor, his incineration complete. The bounty
hunter stood over the charred body, admiring the astounding accuracy
and humanity of his work for a few moments, and then, distracted by
muffled snapping sounds, he looked across the chamber. On the
opposite side he could see Sind’a Thighs. She was rapidly making
progress as she clambered from balcony to terrace to gantry, disposing
with ease any survivors she encountered. But she was not using her
pistol to do the job. She was using her speciality move - the thigh
neck-breaker. She was lifting up the head of any survivor, shoving it
between her thighs, and then twisting with a swift and tight motion.
The effect was instant, compassionate, and above all, highly energy-
efficient.
Returning his focus to his own work, Panman leapt up, grabbing
hold of the next level’s railings. He pulled up hard, flipping himself
upside down. Arcing over the railings, the bounty hunter landed
squarely. He stood proudly, his stance brimming with confidence and
menace. The bounty hunter’s perfect vision and astonishing target
acquisition skills ensured that his pistol was immediately aimed at the
forehead of the fat, pale and wart-covered man who was cowering in
the corner. Other than cuts and bruises, and a clear and shiny scalp,
the man appeared to be in reasonable condition. Panman spoke.
83
“From your uniform, you appear to be ranked quite highly. Who are
you?”
The man said nothing. He simply stared back.
Panman was not a patient man. Setting his pistol to its lowest
power setting, he fired, burning a deep but non-fatal gash across the
warty man’s chest. The man yelped, and then frantically padded
down the flames on his burning uniform. He coughed as smoke
momentarily shrouded his face.
Panman spoke again. “Last chance. Answer my question, or
burn in torment like your colleagues.”
The man grimaced. “I am Colonel Hilber Hamblaba.”
“What do you do?”
“I am second in command of the 'ebulon.”
Panman laughed. “Really? A sallow-faced tub of saturated lard
like you?”
The colonel glared, offended at the bounty hunter’s statement.
“Yes!”
“No way! You lie!”
Despite his obvious fear, the colonel stood his ground. “I have
consummate organisational ability, and work well in a team, and as an
individual. My leadership skills are excellent, particularly my ability
to motivate others through the excretion of…”
Panman fired, burning a sparkling hole into the control console
to the left of the colonel’s head. Instinctively, the colonel ducked
down, covering his face. “Do not spout drivel in my presence!
Understood?”
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba removed his hands from his face. He
nodded. Tears made their way down his cheeks, weaving round the
clusters of warts that erupted from the pallid skin of his left cheek.
Panman smiled. “Good. Now tell me, where is this ship
going?”
The colonel sighed. “Doctor Combobulay’s Fortress.”
“Where, and what, is that?”
“It’s on a rogue planetoid that’s currently passing the edge of
this system. The doctor has many laboratories there – I don’t know
what for. The prototype Kretin and this ship were constructed there.”
With a thud, Sind’a Thighs landed next to Panman. She
remained in a crouched position for a second, and then stood. Once
again, the bare skin of her toned thighs was covered in blood.
Panman looked at her. “Been busy?”
The lesser bounty hunter nodded. “Yes, but I’m finished now.
All the crew members of this command centre have been neutralised.”
“Cool!”
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Sind’a Thighs looked at the pale and plump colonel. “Except

for him, that is.” She took a step forwards.
Panman put his hand out and stopped her. “Leave him, for
now.”
The colonel was looking at Sind’a Thighs. He was obviously
stunned by the sensual nature of her near-naked form. His wide eyes
blinked several times. “Roubella Moul? You look… Amazing!”
The lesser bounty hunter knew exactly what the colonel was
thinking. “It’s never going to happen, so get that thought out of our
head.” She frowned. “And I’m not Roubella Moul. I am Sind’a
Thighs, a seventh-class bounty hunter from the Palace of Amino.”
She raised her head proudly and then strengthened her stance.
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba shivered, but said nothing more. The
console next to him bleeped.
Panman pointed. “What’s that?”
The colonel looked. “It’s a call from a crew member. I asked
him to report on something for me.”
“Accept the call. Act normally.”
The colonel nodded, and pressed ‘Answer’. “This is Colonel
Hilber Hamblaba.”
A voice, high-pitched and effeminate, spoke. “Hi, colonel, this
is Chief Engine Inspector Fillop Assuna. As ordered, I’ve been
looking out of the rear maintenance viewport. I can confirm that we
are being followed by that ship.”
“Erm… Okay, good work.”
“It’s a long way behind, but I set up a telescopic imager to get a
better view. Should I send you an image?”
The colonel looked round at Panman. The bounty hunter
nodded. The colonel answered. “Yes.”
A second later a slightly blurred image of the ship appeared on
the view-screen next to the colonel.
Panman and Sind’a Thighs recognised the ship immediately,
but said nothing.
The colonel spoke. “Thank you. That’s great. Erm… Remain
where you are and keep monitoring that ship.”
“I will, colonel. Fillop Assuna out.”
The colonel’s console bleeped again.
The colonel looked back at Panman. “It’s Doctor
Combobulay!”
Panman’s expression remained serious. “Answer it, but do not
reveal what happened here.”
The colonel nodded, and then answered the call. “Yes,
ma’am?”
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The doctor spoke, her voice crackling like frying pig fat. “What
is going on in there, colonel!”
“We had a… erm… malfunction in one of the control panels,
ma’am. Nothing serious.”
“It sounded very bad to me, colonel!”
“Erm… As you can hear, all is quiet now. Everything is fine.”
“I want an update!”
“Of course, ma’am. The ship that you suspected may be
following us is…”
“Don’t update me on this channel, you idiot! Come to my
chamber and do it personally! I want an update on that ship, and on
the capture of the infiltrator and that devious cow. And I want it in
two minutes!”
The colonel looked back at Panman.
Panman nodded.
There was a click as the communications channel closed.
Panman grinned. He looked at Sind’a Thighs. “We’re going to
enjoy this!”
24 Wine
Peter the Ace sat at the dining table in his lavish quarters. He had just
finished eating his sandwiches, and was sipping at a glass of some of
the finest wine ever made. The wine was also some of the most
exclusive - Suculan Hills grade 1, only available to first-class bounty
hunters.
The bounty hunter leaned back in his chair, which automatically
adjusted itself to offer maximum comfort.
And then the Blenheim spoke. “RESULTS OF THE LEVEL-
TWO PULSE SCAN OF THE UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL ARE NOW
AVAILABLE.”
Peter the Ace sat up straight. “Excellent!” He got to his feet
and headed over to his plush curved mocha-velvet sofa, wine in hand.
“Display them on my view-screen.”
The large view-screen on the far wall of the bounty hunter’s
quarters faded to life, displaying the results of the scan in numerous
text and graphic forms, and several images. Peter the Ace sat down
and examined the results with great interest.
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With a whisper the door opened. Jemima Murma walked in,

wearing an ankle-length white summer dress, and a matching shawl
around her shoulders. Her long bleached-white hair was now tied in a
single ponytail down her back. “I thought you’d like some more
wine.” She said, walking round to the front of the sofa.
Peter the Ace held up his glass. He smiled. “Your proactive
manner is impressive. That’s just what I was thinking!”
The Blenheim’s assistant filled her master’s glass. “You are so
nice to say so. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Peter the Ace said, taking a sip. “Whilst you’re
here, what do you think of that?” He nodded towards the screen.
Jemima Murma looked at all the information. “Hmm… Looks
like a rather old-fashioned design for a star ship. Very basic armour
and weaponry – still effective, though. That energy emitter on the
topside appears to be quite impressive.”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Indeed. That must have been what shot
down the Butt Muffin. Have you noticed something odd about the
design; something that indicates the quality of the mind of the
designer?”
Jemima Murma looked again. “No! It isn’t, is it?” She
looked again. “It is! That ship has a Nokyab-Nivec sensor array
placed right in front of an Esultuph propulsion system. They’re
completely incompatible!”
Peter the Ace smiled. “Well done! And what does that tell you
about the designer of that ship?”
Jemima laughed. “Only a brain-dead ignoramus would
implement such an obviously critical design flaw!”
“Exactly!” Peter the Ace said, chuckling. “Just what I was
thinking.”
Jemima thought for a second. “I guess that means that, so long
as that ship’s propulsion system is active, they can’t detect us.”
“Indeed. At least not with their sensor array, anyway. I do
believe they have spotted us, though.” The bounty hunter operated a
few controls on the console next to the sofa. One of the images on the
view-screen zoomed in, right between the ship’s two large engines. A
small round domed viewport could be seen. A face, long and gaunt,
was peering through it.
Jemima Murma made use of her flesh incineration training. “If
this ship had a functioning energy weapon you could burn his face off
right now.”
Peter the Ace gulped back the last of his wine and then jumped
to his feet. He handed Jemima Murma his empty glass. “This ship
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may not have any functioning energy weapons, but the Baby Blenheim
does! Thanks for the idea!”
After kissing Jemima Murma gently on her right cheek, Peter
the Ace strode proudly out of his quarters.
25 Expert Taunting
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba stood outside the doorway to Doctor

Combobulay’s private chamber. To either side of him stood Panman
and Sind’a Thighs, hidden behind the doorway’s thick frame. They
both brandished their pistols.
Panman whacked the colonel on the back of his shoulder with
his pistol. “Stop dallying! Go!”
The colonel frowned and rubbed his shoulder. He took a deep
breath, and then pressed the button at the side of the doorway. A
second later the doorway fell away into the floor. The colonel was
bathed in a bright white light. He stepped forwards.
Panman and Sind’a Thighs remained hidden. They listened.
Doctor Combobulay’s croaking voice was heard. “What
happened to your uniform, colonel?”
The colonel replied. “It was erm… the malfunctioning console
I mentioned, ma’am. I was standing next to it. It burnt me a little.”
“When you have finished your update, go and get it repaired!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The doctor shrieked. “And close the door to my chamber!”
Panman nodded at Sind’a Thighs. It was time.
The two bounty hunters ran at the doorway, leaping over the
fast-rising door. Sind’a Thighs slammed into the colonel’s back,
knocking him forwards. With a smack, his head hit the solid metal
flooring.
Panman headed straight for Doctor Combobulay. Leaping high,
he landed, feet together, right on her chest. The force of the kick was
enough to shove the doctor and her chair more than a metre backwards.
She groaned loudly. Panman fell back and hit the floor. He rolled,
and stood up, aiming his pistol at the wizened old woman. “Good to
see you again, doctor. How are you?”
Doctor Combobulay looked up at the bounty hunter. She
grimaced, but said nothing.
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Sind’a Thighs moved to stand next to Panman. She looked at

the doctor. “That kind of kick would normally crush an old woman!”
Panman nodded. “An ordinary old woman, yes. But this is no
ordinary old woman.”
Doctor Combobulay cackled. “You think you’ve beaten me,
don’t you?”
“It looks that way.” Panman said calmly.
The doctor laughed. “You have no idea who I am at all!”
Panman agreed. “No, I do not know who you are.” He paused
for effect. “But I do know what you are.” With an agile flick of his
thumb, the bounty hunter changed the setting on his pistol, and then
fired.
Instantly, Doctor Combobulay was consumed in a ball of flame
as arcs of energy flickered like designer lightning over her body. She
writhed, screaming like a bloated baby, as her clothes were reduced to
charred flakes. Her skin bubbled into deep red boils that burst into
sprays of steam.
Despite her training and upbringing, Sind’a Thighs found
herself slightly shocked by Panman’s actions. She spoke, shouting to
be heard above the doctor’s agonised and gurgling screams. “Surely
we should keep her alive? This kind of torture is not productive.”
Huge blazing gashes had now appeared on the doctor’s body.
Boiling innards gushed out.
Panman continued his brutal attack. “It’s necessary to prove a
point; therefore it’s actually highly productive!”
Doctor Combobulay’s screams became shriller as Panman’s
horrific onslaught continued. Her skin was now flaking off in large
blackened chunks, revealing cracked and already over-cooked internal
organs. Smoke billowed into the air. And then the doctor’s massive
bladder burst. A flood of scalding hot urine gushed onto the floor, and
then evaporated rapidly. The doctor thrashed, sending charred tissue
flying in all directions.
There was virtually no flesh left on the Doctor now. Even her
head had been stripped bare. The doctor still managed to move and
yell, but the yell no longer sounded human.
Sind’a Thighs was beginning to realise what Panman had
realised many hours ago. Doctor Combobulay was not a shrivelled
and incontinent old lady. She was not a bad-tempered, moaning and
bitter old hag. She was something far more dangerous.
Panman ceased fire. Immediately the noise level dropped. All
that could be heard was the crackle of flames as the remnants of the
doctor’s flesh continued to burn on the floor.
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Something was moving within the shroud of smoke that

surrounded Doctor Combobulay’s chair. As the smoke started to clear
a slender and weak-looking skeleton could be seen. The skeleton was
brushing away the last specks of scorched flesh from its bones. But
they were not really bones at all. Instead the sheen of polished metal
could be seen, and small motors that existed next to joints and sockets
whirred gently.
Doctor Combobulay was a machine.
Panman grinned. “Finally we can see you!”
The doctor’s metal head turned and looked at the bounty hunter.
Its eyes were now deep black pits that seemed to disappear deep into
its shiny head. “You have destroyed my organic skin,” it said, its
voice now metallic and deep, “nothing more.” It stood now, looking
remarkably strong despite the spindly nature of its metal limbs. “You
have freed me from the need to maintain my cover as that insipid
woman. I no longer need to act as a feeble flesh being. That is
something you will come to regret very shortly.”
Panman shook his head. “I never regret anything. If you had
any real knowledge of me or other top-class bounty hunters, you’d
know that. I find you pathetic.”
The Combobulay machine warbled. “I am not pathetic!”
“Yes you are! I know your kind. You’re a Cifitra. I’ve never
encountered one of you before, but I’ve studied accounts of your
escapades.”
The machine glared at the bounty hunter, its featureless face
devoid of expression. “Then you will know of my strength and speed.
You will know of my intelligence and cunning.” It paused for a
second. “You will know to fear me.”
Panman laughed. “Yes, your kind are strong and fast and quite
cunning at times, but intelligent? You’ve succeeded in only one of
your invasions in the thousand or so years that you’ve been around,
and even that was only a partial success!”
“It was a complete success!!!”
“Your occupation of Evi’Sap lasted less than a century, and
then you were kicked out by an uprising of proto-humanoid
troglodytes that you didn’t even know existed!”
The Combobulay machine warbled. “The underground
dwellers were impossible to detect!”
“They were armed with nothing more than handheld digging
tools! They were later classified by the Hindar System’s University of
Bipedal Studies as having intelligence levels lower than basic
primates!”
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The Combobulay machine rumbled. “They were devious

beyond reasonable expectations – devious enough to fool those
bipedal academics!”
Panman grinned and moved on. He continued his expert
taunting. “And where have you been for the last five-hundred years?
During the entire time since the Palace of Amino was created the
Cifitra have not been seen at all! We had to learn about you from
history texts, a few old photos, and the cave drawings of the Evi’Sap
troglodytes!”
“We have been planning!” The machine said, raising its head
high. “We have been plotting! We have been evaluating ideas and
technology!”
Panman laughed. “And after five-hundred years this is the plan
you came up with?! Disguise yourself as a feeble and incontinent old
woman, redirect a few rocks to crash into a developing planet, and
then, once the planet’s primitive civilisation was destroyed, claim it as
an invasion success?! That is one of the most cowardly and pathetic
plans I’ve ever heard – and I’ve heard thousands!”
The Combobulay machine let out a loud and heavily modulated
scream, and then leapt at Panman, slamming hard into his suit’s chest-
plate. The bounty hunter flew back and out into the 'ebulon’s
command centre. As he fell, Panman aimed and fired his pistol,
sending accurate pulses of energy coursing into the machine as it
landed on a terrace on the far side of the command centre, right above
the massive hole created earlier by the hyper-hot-shatter-bomb.
Panman hit the floor of the command centre.
Sind’a Thighs was standing at the entrance to the chamber. She
fired her pistol, hitting the Combobulay machine squarely on its
shoulder plates. The machine was enveloped in sparks and fire, but it
seemed unaffected.
The machine turned and held up its hands, blocking the
onslaught. It screamed; its metallic voice harsh and piercing. “You
are no match for the Cifitra!” And then it turned and smashed through
a closed doorway, tearing through the door’s metal shielding with
seemingly effortless ease.
Sind’a Thighs ceased fire and shouted. “I’ll follow it!”
Panman was now standing at a console at the base of the
command centre. “No.” He said as he tapped away at the console.
“We’ll deal with that vile machine later.” He looked up. “Go and
revive that fat and warty colonel dude. We may need him.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded, and then headed back into the chamber.
Panman brought up a schematic of the 'ebulon on a screen next
to the console, one of the only functioning screens left in the entire
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command centre. A plan of staggering ingenuity formed within the

mind of the bounty hunter. With masterful agility he manipulated
some controls. A route to the engine section of the ship was
highlighted. Panman memorised it, and chuckled. “This is going to
be so cool!”
26 Pressurised Cheese
The ship was still following.

Chief Engine Inspector Fillop Assuna was sitting on a small
metal stool by the 'ebulon’s rear maintenance viewport. He had been
watching the ship for almost an hour now, and nothing had changed.
There it was, never deviating, and never doing anything remotely
interesting. Apart from its dark, muscular and alluringly masculine
design it proved to be of little interest to the engine inspector. He was
getting very bored.
Fillop had been the 'ebulon’s chief engine inspector for many
years, ever since the ship’s launch from deep within Doctor
Combobulay’s fortress. Due to the almost completely automated
nature of the ship’s engines his team of inspectors was small - there
were only three in total – and they were all female. That would have
pleased most male crew members, but not Fillop: he was as
homosexual as it was possible to be. His confinement to the engine
section with only women as companions gave him almost constant
sexual frustration, and he would often reach breaking point, causing
great stress to his subordinates. He would regularly force them to
dress up as men, cover themselves in his own stale sweat, shave their
heads, drink beer in obscene quantities, shout profanities in deep
voices and take it ‘Navy style’ in the showers. The women, of course,
often complained at this treatment, but Fillop knew that deep down
they were pleased to receive it. They had needs too, and although it
was not quite what they wanted, the chief engine inspector knew that
they enjoyed whatever close attention he gave them.
But abusing his female subordinates was not an available option
at the moment to deal with his boredom. They had all been reassigned
to hunt down an infiltrator and a traitor.
Fillop was completely alone.
To pass some time he started fiddling with the telescopic imager
he had set up by the viewport. He adjusted some settings - turning
knobs and pushing sliders - until he managed to improve the image
92
resolution slightly. He smiled as he noticed more detail appear on the

image of the ship. Much more of its very manly design could be seen,
including some of the formidable and almost phallic gun-mountings
on its forward section. It had been an adjustment well worth making.
And then the chief engine inspector noticed that something was
moving.
Gasping like an ecstatic mongoose, Fillop watched as an object
rose out of the ship’s topside. After a few seconds the image became
clearer. It looked like another ship, but much smaller - some kind of
shuttle craft. Its design, although much smaller, was similar to the
parent craft – muscular, powerful, and highly desirable. The engine
inspector activated the communications panel next to the viewport.
Colonel Hamblaba would be very interested to hear about this.
There was a brief flash of blinding white light. Intense pain,
similar to a million stabbing white hot needles, spread like pressurised
cheese across Fillop’s face. He shrieked as his eyes boiled and
shrivelled and his skin bubbled into a multitude of deep blisters.
Instinctively, the engine inspector covered his face with his hands, but
then he screamed as the flesh on his hands ignited and vaporised.
Spears of agony shot down his optic nerves.
With a shudder, Chief Engine Inspector Fillop Assuna slipped
off his stool and fell onto the floor’s grated surface, his super-heated
skull shattering on impact.
The Baby Blenheim’s holographic head-up display showed the results

of the attack. Peter the Ace had watched the close-up image of the
unidentified vessel’s rear viewport as its occupant’s skin on his face
and hands had blistered and vaporised.
The ship made an announcement. “TARGET
NEUTRALISED.”
Peter the Ace smiled. “Marvellous!” Grabbing the flight and
propulsion controls, the bounty hunter activated the rear thrusters and
edged the Baby Blenheim forwards over the Blenheim’s topside.
Within seconds the little ship was clear of its parent vessel and
speeding towards the ugly green unidentified vessel ahead.
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27 Sweat, Soap and Beer
With a deafening clang and crunch, the door exploded, sending

chunks of semi-molten heavy metal scattering in all directions.
Panman waited a few seconds and then peered round the corner.
The door was gone, and the entrance to the main engine room was
clear. The bounty hunter looked back at Sind’a Thighs. He grinned.
“Explosions, no matter how small, never fail to give me great joy!”
The lesser bounty hunter found Panman’s joy infectious. “They
are cool, aren’t they?!”
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba was sitting next to Sind’a Thighs.
The left side of his bald pallid head now sported a long deep gash, and
dried blood covered half of his face and neck. He spoke, still dazed.
“That made my headache much worse.”
Panman frowned. “Pull yourself together, Colonel Ham
Blubber! I don’t have the patience to deal with whining feebs!”
The colonel was offended. “My name is pronounced
Hamblaba!”
“Whatever. Get up!”
With the help of Sind’a Thighs, the colonel got to his feet.
Brandishing his pistol, Panman stepped round the corner and
headed towards the engine section. Sind’a Thighs and the colonel
followed.
The engine section was dark, cramped and purely functional,
with graphite-grey walls and minimal lighting. Numerous side
passages barely large enough to crawl down fanned away from the
main passageway, each one filled with exposed piping that rumbled as
unknown fluids were pumped through. The main passageway itself
had its own fair share of piping, as well as other more mysterious bits
of protruding equipment.
For some reason, the air was filled with the smell of sweat, soap
and beer.
Panman was looking around keenly. He turned and faced the
colonel. “Where are the crew?”
The colonel blinked slowly. “This is a largely automated
section of the ship, so it’s usually quite deserted. There are four crew
members assigned here. Most will have been sent away to track you
down.”
Panman smiled. “Really? Cool! That means they’ve already
been dealt with!”
94
The colonel frowned and rubbed his head. He was obviously

suffering great discomfort. “There must be someone here, though.
This section cannot be left completely unmanned.”
“Of course there is!” Panman said. “That bum-bandit you were
speaking to earlier! Where would he be?”
“At the rear maintenance viewport.”
“Show us where that is.”
The colonel nodded and took the lead, taking Panman and
Sind’a Thighs further down the passageway until they arrived at a
vertical ladder. “Up there on the next level.”
Panman pointed up. “Get going, then!”
“I’m not really built for…”
Panman slapped the colonel on the back of the neck. “Now,
fatty!”
The colonel began climbing, struggling to fit his plump girth
through the narrow ceiling entrance. Panman followed, pushing the
colonel hard. The colonel yelped as he was thrust out and onto the
next level’s grated floor. And then he shrieked.
Panman emerged and stood next to the chubby colonel.
“What’s wrong with you now?”
Colonel Hamblaba pointed and the headless corpse lying next to
a domed viewport. “That’s Fillop Assuna. He’s dead!”
Panman frowned. “Of course he’s dead, idiot! His head’s been
super-heated and then shattered. What did you expect?”
“How did that happen?”
“Good question, lard man.” Panman thought for a second. “I
would say it was some kind of wide-focus laser weapon, combined
with a powerful microwave emission. In fact, I know of a weapon
like that. We’ve got one on the…”
“Look!” Sind’a Thighs said, stepping off the ladder and
pointing. “Through the viewport!”
Everyone looked. A small, black, and extremely cool and
dangerous-looking ship was approaching slowly. It was barely ten
metres from the viewport.
Panman laughed. He activated his communicator. “Yo, Ace! I
was wondering where you were!”
The ship drew to a halt less than a metre from the viewport.
Peter the Ace could clearly be seen sitting in his command chair.
“Likewise! I see you found Sind’a Thighs. What’s been happening
over there?”
“So much! After crash-landing, Sind’a Thighs managed to
redeem herself by infiltrating this ship, joining the crew, and getting
promoted to third in command!”
95
“A stunning achievement, by any standards!”

“It is! And we’ve discovered that a Cifitra, disguised as an
sickeningly feeble old woman, is behind all this.”
“A Cifitra? I never thought we’d encounter one of those!”
“I vaporised its flesh, so it’s now back to its original form. But
it’s currently on the run somewhere on this ship.”
“I’m not surprised. From what I’ve read, Cifitra are hard to
contain. Where’s the ship heading?”
“To the Cifitra’s fortress, on a rogue planetoid at the edge of
this system.”
“Hmm… At this speed, we’ll arrive in that region in around
one hour. Just enough time to plan some mayhem.”
Panman shouted. “Yes! Just what I was thinking! I’m going to
overload the power system on this ship. It’ll blow like a carbonated
hippo in a vacuum!”
“Superb idea, but keep that ship intact until we reach the
fortress. Let’s make the most of the detonation, shall we?”
“Awesome suggestion! I’ll get right on it! I’ll send Sind’a
Thighs to look for the Cifitra. It’s probably…”
A loud distorted ‘clang’ was heard over the communicator.
Peter the Ace spoke. “Don’t worry about the Cifitra. I’ve
found it.”
Panman looked out of the viewport. There, gripping onto the
top side of the Baby Blenheim’s large domed viewport, was the Cifitra.
Its spindly metal limbs were spread-eagled across the transparent
dome.
“Whoa!”
The Baby Blenheim backed up. Peter the spoke, the tone of his
voice calm and fearless. “I’ll deal with this. Get on with your task.
I’ll take this annoying skeletal machine far away so it can’t bother
you.”
Panman watched as the Baby Blenheim turned and sped away.
“Thanks, Ace!” He turned and pointed at the colonel. “Sind’a, get
this colourless over-fed blimp to show you the primary energy
containment unit for this ship’s engines.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. She grabbed Colonel Hamblaba’s arm.
“Show me, now!”
The colonel pointed to a large cylindrical object behind the
ladder they had climbed earlier. “That’s it, just there.”
Panman was pleased. “Very convenient! Colonel Ham
Blubber? explain to Sind’a how to disengage all the safety protocols.”
He stepped over to a display-screen. “I don’t want any warning
96
messages or exceptions popping up on this thing, there’s nothing more

annoying than that!”
28 A Slowly Expanding Cone of Light
Peter the Ace pushed his flight control joystick hard left, sending the
Baby Blenheim into a fast roll.
On the outside of the viewport, the Cifitra was struggling
against the incredible centrifugal forces. But it managed to maintain
its grip, jamming its well-engineered hands and feet into the gaps
between some weapons systems on the left side of the viewport.
Realising his strategy was not working, Peter the Ace released
the joystick. The ship levelled off.
The Cifitra peered in through the viewport, its smooth shiny
face and deep black eye pits devoid of any obvious sign of life. The
communicator crackled to life. “Once I had discovered the presence
of Panman, I knew that you would not be far away.”
Peter the Ace played with his controls. “It’s a well known fact
that Panman and I work as a team, so your simple logical deduction
does not impress me.”
The Cifitra banged its head against the viewport. “I am not
attempting to impress you, bounty hunter!”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
“Eliminate you!”
The bounty hunter pressed a control. Immediately, the Baby
Blenheim decelerated at an unsettling rate. The small ship’s recently
upgraded gee-dampers protected Peter the Ace from the incredible
forces. The Cifitra had no such protection, but it still managed to hold
on as four-hundred gees pulled at its thin but tough metal body. The
Cifitra was obviously upset. It banged its head rapidly and repeatedly
on the domed viewport. Even inside the insulated cockpit, the noise
was horrendous.
The Baby Blenheim spoke. “WARNING: VIEWPORT
STRESS LIMIT REACHED. BREACH POSSIBLE.”
Peter the Ace thought for a second. “How far to the nearest
solid body?”
The ship answered. “3.659 MILLION KILOMETRES.”
As the Cifitra continued its head banging frenzy, the
holographic head-up display lit up and showed a virtual and rotating
97
representation of an asteroid. The asteroid’s classification,

composition and dimensions were displayed.
Peter the Ace nodded. “A carbonaceous chondrite - Perfect!
Set an interception course and go there - maximum sublight speed.”
Immediately, the Baby Blenheim changed direction and
accelerated. A bright point of light honed into view ahead. It grew
rapidly in size and brightness.
“WARNING: VIEWPORT STRESS LIMIT EXCEEDED.
BREACH IMMINENT.”
Peter the Ace looked at the raging Cifitra. It was continuing to
head-bang the viewport. Several small cracks had appeared. The
bounty hunter needed to act fast. “Activate the forward atmospheric
shield.”
“FORWARD ATMOSPHERIC SHIELD ACTIVATED.”
“Emergency viewport ejection – activate!”
With a thud and a whoosh, and a brief flash of explosives, the
large domed viewport shot away at high speed, dragging the Cifitra
with it. The machine warbled in anger. “That was a foolish move,
bounty hunter!”
There was now a huge hole in the front of the Baby Blenheim,
but the atmospheric shield protected Peter the Ace from the frigid
airless void beyond. He laughed. “Really? Take a look behind you,
chrome dome.”
The Cifitra turned its head 180 degrees. There, straight ahead,
loomed the seven-kilometre wide mass of the asteroid. A digital
scream sounded over the communications channel.
Still laughing, Peter the Ace silenced the channel, and then
spoke to the ship. “Revise our course by thirty degrees.”
The ship turned to starboard.
“Maintain a visual lock on the Cifitra and the asteroid. Display
it to me.”
A corner of the head-up display shimmered to life. An image of
the asteroid was shown, and a small bright spot speeding towards it.
A few seconds later, and at a speed of more than a hundred kilometres
per second, the Cifitra, and the domed viewport it was clinging to,
slammed into the asteroid. A flash, briefly brighter than the nearby
sun, lit up the asteroid. Thousands of tonnes of vaporised ice and rock
spread out from its surface in a slowly expanding cone of light.
Peter the Ace clapped. “Excellent! I can’t think of a more
entertaining way to dispose of a detestable synthetic freak than that!”
He directed his voice to the ship. “Set a course for the Blenheim.
Take us back there immediately.”
98
29 Hand Crank
Colonel Hilber Hamblaba stuggled under the tight grip of Sind’a

Thighs’ arm-lock. “But the ship will be destroyed! This is reckless
beyond reason!”
Panman looked across the cramped engine room. “Stop
whining, lard lad.” He fiddled with a few controls. “Right, the
program’s running. As soon as I open something called the ‘Thermal
Containment Aperture’ the generator overloading will begin. I can’t
program it to open automatically, so I’ll have to do it myself.”
Sind’a Thighs tightened her grip on the colonel. She looked at
Panman. “Where’s it located?”
Panman was studying the screen. “Unfortunately it’s on the
ship’s topside hull, right above our heads. I’ll have to go up there.”
Sind’a Thighs understood. “Once you’ve opened it, how long
until the 'ebulon detonates?”
“Precisely thirty-two minutes and four seconds. I’ll time the
opening so that the ship blows as it reaches the fortress. And from my
calculations, it’ll explode in a most interesting way!”
The lesser bounty hunter was intrigued. “Really? How so?”
Panman grinned. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Wait and
see!”
Colonel Hamblaba spoke; the pained expression on his pasty
face gave away his fear. “We’ll all be killed! There’s no need for
this! Please stop!”
Panman looked at the colonel. “There’s every need. And don’t
worry; your beloved tub-like backside will survive. Compared to
some of the insanely perilous situations I’ve been in, this is nothing
more than a relaxing stroll along the banks of a gently babbling brook.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go outside.” With a whirr of
complex mechanisms, the bounty hunter’s helmet expanded and rolled
over his head. Grabbing a rung of the metal ladder at the centre of the
room, the bounty hunter began climbing.
Panman stood at the exit hatch and looked around. Dimly lit by the
now distant Droog sun, the topside of the 'ebulon’s wide cylindrical
hull was an expanse of bulbous and murky green domes interspersed
with antennae and other pieces of sensory equipment. Behind, the
deep blue glow of the ship’s giant engines added a welcome change to
the otherwise gloomy and mouldy-looking scene.
99
Stepping forwards, Panman walked across several thick sections

of armour plating to the area he had identified on the display-screen in
the engine room. There it was: a large round vent almost a metre
across – the ‘Thermal Containment Aperture’. To the right of the
aperture was a large folded hand crank which, for some bizarre and
unfathomable reason, was the only way to open and close it.
Reaching down, Panman grabbed the hand crank and pulled. It
was very stiff, but the bounty hunter had no problem using his
incredible strength to unfold and extend the handle. It was now
upright and at waist height. Looking towards the bow of the ship, the
bounty hunter could now see the rogue planetoid that housed the
Cifitra’s fortress. Although still small, he could make out the
planetoid’s irregular disk shape. Consulting his suit’s systems, he
brought up some information on his helmet’s head-up display. The
journey time to the planetoid was now only thirty-three minutes away
- perfect. With great strength, Panman began turning the hand crank.
Immediately a smoggy jet of pressurised gas streamed from the centre
of the aperture. Panman kept turning, and the jet of gas widened as
the aperture opened. After four complete turns the aperture was wide
open. Panman let go of the hand crank. The handle spun in the
opposite direction and the aperture began to close. Quickly, the
bounty hunter grabbed the handle and opened up the aperture again.
He looked down, searching for a mechanism to lock the aperture open.
There it was, snapped and bent, and useless.
A moment of realisation swept through Panman’s mind. The
aperture would need to be held open until the last possible moment.
He activated his communicator. “Ace? You there?”
The reply was swift. “I am indeed.”
“Cool! What’s the status of the Cifitra?”
“I slammed it at an extreme velocity into an asteroid.”
“Awesome!”
“It was! How are things going over there?”
“I’ve got a bit of an issue, actually. The program for the power
overload is running fine, but I had to manually open a vent out on the
ship’s topside to start the process.”
“Really? How peculiar! Another fine example of incredibly
odd and inferior Cifitra design.”
“It is. Unfortunately, the mechanism to hold the vent open is
broken. It needs to be held open manually. Could you come
alongside and send Justin over. He’s perfect for the job!”
“It does indeed sound like his kind of work, but unfortunately I
had to leave him down on the surface of Droog.”
Panman was confused. “Why?”
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“The Blenheim was attacked by hundreds of giant humanoid

machines, which managed to knock out all our weapons systems. I
had to use Justin as a ballistic delivery method for some nuclear
warheads.”
“Whoa! Cool! He’s more versatile than I thought!”
“He is, and it was a highly successful tactic! Unfortunately,
just after he’d plummeted back to the surface I saw that ugly green
ship you’re on emerging from the ocean. I had no choice but to follow
it. I ordered the palace to send another bounty hunter to go and get
Justin and finish off any of the machines that survived.”
Panman nodded. “Fair enough. Looks like I’ll have to do it
myself!”
“It does. How do you plan to escape the blast?”
Panman consulted the data on his helmet’s head-up display.
“Well, I only need to keep it open for thirty-one and a half minutes.
That’ll vent enough of the gas to ensure the overload. After that, it
doesn’t matter if the vent closes. That gives me about thirty seconds
to escape. Ample time!”
“Excellent!”
“Sind’a Thighs should transfer over to the Blenheim. She’s not
needed here. Also, she’s holding a warty, pale-faced, flab-ridden,
bald-headed Colonel as a prisoner. I guess we should lock him up.”
“'o problem. Be with you in a minute.”
30 Big and Round and Cute
Jack Cardio, a sixth-Class bounty hunter of remarkable belligerence

and fashion-sense, gasped as a brief wave of nausea swept through
him. The transition from subspace to normal space was always a little
unsettling in a small ship, and at ten metres in length the Gash Station
was one of the smallest ships in the Palace of Amino fleet.
With the churning entities of subspace now banished, the view
through the narrow viewport was now the brown and grey world of
Droog, less than half a million kilometres ahead. Jack Cardio looked
down at the surround view-screen, a remarkable screen that
completely circled round him in his ship’s cramped but stylish
cylindrical cockpit. Ahead, the screen showed a detailed scan of the
recently devastated planet.
A warning bleep sounded. The bounty hunter clicked a control
and spun his chair round, sending his long dreadlocks flying out.
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Behind, the screen had highlighted two objects several billion

kilometres away at the system’s outer edge. One was a large
unidentified vessel almost two kilometres long – something to be
regarded with great suspicion. But the identity of the second smaller
ship – confirmed by a decrypted Bounty Hunter Vehicle Identification
Code - was something to be revered. It was the finest and most
respected bounty hunter ship ever constructed. It was the mighty
Blenheim, and it appeared to have docked with the larger vessel.
Jack Cardio took a moment to catch his breath. He had been a
fully-qualified bounty hunter for only a decade, and had only recently
been promoted to sixth-class, so to be on a mission to aid the two
greatest bounty hunters of all time was an honour beyond his dreams,
and an honour usually only granted to bounty hunters that showed
extreme ability, risk, and unusual levels of eccentricity. On this
occasion Jack Cardio had simply been lucky enough to be passing the
Droog system when the call from Amino Battle Command came
through. With minimal credentials for being there, he had a lot to
prove, and with Peter the Ace and Panman in the vicinity he was
determined to succeed.
Jack Cardio spun his chair back round. The gloomy planet
Droog now loomed large through the narrow viewport. The bounty
hunter activated the decelerators and redirected the Gash Station,
placing it in a very low orbital trajectory. He brought up his mission
parameters on the view-screen for review. They were simple: destroy
any giant humanoid machines that were walking around, and then
rescue a stranded Palace of Amino cyborg at the supplied coordinates.
But all bounty hunters knew that simple mission parameters did not
always make for a simple mission. Thinking quickly, Jack Cardio
decided that it would be better to rescue the cyborg first: it might
know something that would help in defeating the humanoid machines.
The Gash Station was now almost directly above the cyborg’s
last reported coordinates. Heeding the warnings he had been given
about the weapons of the humanoid machines, the bounty hunter
decided that an extreme descent to the surface was the safest way
down.
Jack Cardio grinned unevenly. It was time to begin the mission.
Pushing forwards on his pitch control, the bounty hunter sent his ship
into a vertical dive. Within seconds, the ship was surrounded by the
bright orange glow of plasma as it pushed hard into the ash-ridden
atmosphere. Operating the touch-controls on the view-screen, he
initiated a narrow deep-scan of the surface. Immediately a wealth of
information appeared. Most of the surface ahead was a flat lifeless
plain, covered in a thick layer of fallout dust and ash. Thirty-three
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active humanoid machines were detected; most were on the coastline

and heading into the sea. Three were heading inland.
The Palace of Amino cyborg was not detected at the given
coordinates, but a dense object could be seen moving slowly far inland
near the ruins of what appeared to be dwellings. It could be the
cyborg, but it was impossible to confirm – the mechanoid’s P.A.C.T. –
Palace of Amino Cyborg Transponder – was not transmitting.
As the ground became visible beneath the thick dust clouds,
Jack Cardio pulled the Gash Station out of its power dive. The ship
skimmed the surface, kicking up clouds of dust. He slowed the ship’s
velocity to just three-hundred kilometres per hour and set a course for
what he hoped was the cyborg. He activated his ship’s communicator.
“Cyborg? This is Jack Cardio. Reply and identify yourself!”
There was a crackle of static. “My designation is ‘Justin’.”
“Why is your P.A.C.T. not transmitting?”
“It was disabled during my impact with this planet’s surface
following my ballistic…”
Jack Cardio was already irritated by the cyborg’s mono-tonal
drone. “I didn’t ask for your life story, cyborg! Shut up! I’m
approaching your position. Stand by.”
“I obey.”
Justin was only a few kilometres ahead. Jack Cardio slowed his
ship and looked at the scanner information. The cyborg was displayed
in great detail now. He looked very battered, with several deep dents
on his chest and shoulder plates, and his left leg was bent out of shape.
And he was not alone.
Jack Cardio looked at the new scanner information. Three life
forms were standing with the cyborg. Their biological signs were
weak. “Who’s with you?”
“I was ordered by my master to locate some survivors and offer
assistance. Thirty-four minutes ago I located the three humanoids
standing to my right; two male and one female. All three humanoids
are prepubescent children.”
The bounty hunter could now see the cyborg and the children
through the viewport. He slowed his ship and brought it to a hover.
The children covered their faces as a cloud of ash was blown at them.
Jack Cardio operated a control. “I’ve opened the lower cargo
hatch. It’s quite cramped in there, but you should all get in. Help the
children in first, cyborg.”
“I obey.”
The bounty hunter watched on the screen as Justin lifted up the
blackened, spluttering children and placed them in the cargo bay.
They immediately cowered in one of the corners. The cyborg then
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pulled his bulky form into the bay. At the appropriate moment Jack
Cardio closed the bay door, giving the cyborg a boost.
Justin spoke. “We are all now located in the cargo bay of your
ship.”
“I know!” Jack Cardio said with annoyance. He hated being
told what was obvious, especially by a machine. Operating a control,
the bounty hunter spun his chair round 180 degrees, and at the same
time dropped it two metres. He was now sitting in the lower
habitation section of the Gash Station which contained his small but
comfortable living quarters. To the right was a ‘wet room’, complete
with a power-shower and whirlpool bath, and to the left was a small
galley and plush sofa.
Straight ahead was a hatchway to the cargo bay. Operating
another control the bounty hunter opened the hatchway. With a
grating sound it rose into the ceiling. Justin was there gazing back at
him with his deep red vacant eyes. “Cyborg? Send the children
through.”
Using his bulky arms, Justin herded the children through the
hatchway. They stood there, shivering and wide-eyed, their thick torn
clothes, skin and bare feet covered in grey ash. They moaned softly.
Jack Cardio grimaced. “They’re filthy and repulsive!” He
stood up and pressed a control on the door to the wet room. The door
slid open. The bounty hunter pointed. “In there, now!”
With a helpful nudge from Justin, the three children scurried
into the wet room.
The cyborg spoke. “We should protect their modesty. The
females and the male should be cleaned separately.”
Jack Cardio frowned. “You said they were prepubescent! They
don’t care about such things, yet!” He played with the wash settings,
and then activated the room. “Anyway, they don’t need to be naked.”
Through the room’s transparent walls the children could be seen
squirming as dense sprays of warm water and soap enveloped them.
The force of the water was almost enough to knock them off their feet.
The bounty hunter laughed. “This is my favourite setting. Look how
much fun they’re having!”
After a minute the water sprays stopped. A swirling wind of
hot air surrounded the children, drying their bodies and clothes with
remarkable efficiency. The hot wind subsided. The door to the wet
room opened.
Jack Cardio beckoned the children. The approached cautiously,
their clothes now bright and colourful, and their long dark hair fluffed-
up like a doll’s. The bounty hunter stepped to the other side of his
104
living quarters and operated another control. A double bed unfolded

from the wall. It clicked into place. He pointed. “Sit on there.”
The three children climbed onto the bed. They sat, cross-legged,
and looked up at the bounty hunter, their eyes big and round and cute.
An alarm sounded up in the cockpit.
Jack Cardio sat back down in his chair. He looked at Justin.
“Make sure they stay seated on the bed. I need to go and deal with
those humanoid machines.”
The cyborg spoke. “It is unwise to launch an offensive
operation using such a small vessel when there are children onboard.”
“I have my orders, cyborg!” The bounty hunter said sternly.
He glanced at the children. “Don’t worry; I’ll set the gee-dampers to
maximum. The children will barely notice what’s going on.”
With a whirr, Jack Cardio and his chair rose up and spun round
to the front. A second later he was back in his cockpit. He looked at
his view-screen, and then out through the viewport to the horizon.
There, silhouetted against the dull orange sky, were three humanoid
machines.
Excitement coursed through Jack Cardio’s body. This was
going to be a very pleasing experience!
31 A Vision of Pure Might and Terror
With the uneven disk of the Cifitra’s fortress looming large straight
ahead, Panman stood proudly on the topside of the 'ebulon. He
gripped the handle of the Thermal Containment Aperture’s hand crank,
holding open the aperture. A stream of energetic gas continued to
shoot out into space. He had been holding the aperture open for more
than thirty-minutes now, and in a couple of minutes enough gas will
have been vented to ensure the engine overload. The resulting
explosion would be nothing short of invigorating. At least that was
what the bounty hunter hoped.
Panman looked to his right. There, docked to one of the
'ebulon’s airlocks, was the ever-impressive Blenheim – a vision of
pure might and terror against the black canvass of space. Even though
Panman had flown in that particular ship for several decades, the sight
of it still filled him with a deep sense of awe and pride. After
allowing himself a few moments of quiet admiration he activated his
communicator. “Ace? How are things over there? You’re going to
have to detach in a minute or two, remember?”
105
Peter the Ace replied. “I remember. Things are fine here.

Sind’a Thighs has bound and gagged that fat-packed colonel and put
him in a detention cell.”
“Cool!”
“When she came up here to the bridge I was very impressed.
She was wearing nothing but a tight pair of black Palace of Amino
thongs and a tube bra, and she was caked in blood!”
Panman laughed. “Yeah, she’s been awesome! She eliminated
dozens of this ship’s crewmembers with her thighs alone!”
“That’s reassuring to know. She has definitely redeemed
herself many times over for her earlier shocking incompetence.
Getting herself shot down and allowing her ship to be destroyed on
her first solo mission is not something the Superior Beings ever look
favourably upon. If she hadn’t performed the exceptionally insane
and improbable infiltration of that ship in such an incredible manner
she would certainly have lost her bounty hunter status.”
“Yeah – her career would have been set back by decades – even
forever!”
“Indeed. Remember Silent Shabba Smith?”
“Ha! I’d forgotten about him! What a useless piece of meat he
turned out to be. His first mission as a qualified bounty hunter was a
hilarious disaster! All he had to do was rescue three malnourished
Aeki banana carriers from the base of an extremist group of fibrous
trade terrorists.”
“Yes. He ended up destroying his own ship, the homes of the
banana carriers, and succumbing to the terrorists’ rather banal exam-
based brainwashing techniques!”
“He now works as a drain inspection consultant down in the
palace’s sewer cavern, I believe.”
“He does indeed. And he’ll be there for another fifty years at
least. If Sind’a Thighs hadn’t redeemed herself so completely, only
her well-toned thighs would have prevented her from suffering a
similar fate. She would probably have ended up as a token aerobic
instructor in one of the subterranean under-class fat camps.”
Panman grimaced. “It would take a strong stomach to put up
with that amount of mouldy sweaty flab bouncing around. Hideous!”
The head-up display on his visor popped up a message. “Ace, one
minute to go! I’ll be jumping off in thirty seconds. Detach!”
“Okay – detaching now. Remember to push off hard!”
“No problem.”
To the right, the Blenheim drifted away from the 'ebulon, its
thrusters emitting a deep shade of red.
106
Ahead the view was now almost filled with the dark and jagged
fortress of the Cifitra. It was indeed an icy rogue planetoid devoid of
beauty and grace - a fitting location for a Cifitra’s hideout.
Panman felt himself grow heavier as the 'ebulon suddenly
altered course and followed what was obviously a pre-programmed
flight path to the fortress.
Peter the Ace spoke over the communicator. “That big ugly
ship of yours seems to be heading for an opening in an ice cliff in the
northern hemisphere of that planetoid.”
Panman chuckled. “Just as I’d hoped. It’s now pointing
exactly where I want it to!”
Another message appeared in Panman’s head-up display. It was
time. With the jagged icy surface of the planetoid now spreading
beneath in all directions, Panman crouched, and then pushed off hard.
He drifted up and away from the domed green hull of the 'ebulon.
The bounty hunter gasped at the sight below. As the huge mouldy-
coloured vessel dropped away, the full frigid vista of dimly lit ice
became visible, speeding by just a few kilometres below.
Panman grinned, thrilled at the precarious nature of his
predicament. To celebrate, he selected some spiced chicken paste
from his suit’s food menu and gulped it down. And then he noticed
that he was bathed in light from above. Looking up, the bounty hunter
could see the dense bulk of the Blenheim, its lower cargo bay doors
wide open and welcoming. With the poise and elegance of a Hina
prancer, Panman drifted into the brightly lit cargo bay. Reaching out,
he grabbed a handhold. The cargo bay doors closed beneath him, the
bay was re-pressurised, and then gravity was restored. The bounty
hunter slammed down onto the plated flooring. He opened his helmet
and then activated his communicator. “Ace? What’s the status of that
ship?”
“Sensors show a remarkable build-up of energy in its engine
section. It’s going to detonate any second now!”
Panman rushed to a nearby console. He activated its screen,
and then tapped into the Blenheim’s visual array. A high-definition
image of the 'ebulon was displayed, a mass of black smoke billowing
round its rear end. Random jets of flame were forcing their way out
from splits in the ship’s armour plating.
And then a white flash burst across the screen.
107
32 Fibres of Light
The overload of the 'ebulon’s power system was unstoppable.
Within a millisecond the ship’s triple trans-fusion cascade moderator

dissolved, allowing an unchecked ten-fold increase in energy supply
to the diversion regulators. The sudden excess of power vaporised the
regulators, sending the energy surge straight through to the main
power matrix. All power outlets in all the chambers of the ship
exploded, unleashing arcs of blinding hyper-voltage lightning,
incinerating the remaining forty-three crew members as they cowered
like shrews in their quarters.
Three milliseconds later the power matrix melted, cutting power
to all areas of the ship. All areas, that is, except the reinforced core
distributor. Without the surrounding matrix there was only one
destination for power through the core distributor: the engine core.
A millisecond later the engine core received the unregulated
power surge. The Esultuph propulsion system attempted to contain
the power, but the gas chambers required for such containment were
empty. The power containment mechanism failed.
A nanosecond later the power surge reached the Esultuph mix
voids. The atomic structure of the propulsion system shattered,
radiating spikes of superheated quantum elements through ten
dimensions.
The Esultuph propulsion system detonated.
The light levels on the bridge of the Blenheim were low and deeply
atmospheric. Battle mode was still active.
Peter the Ace was watching the detonation of the 'ebulon in
super-high-definition glory on the Blenheim”s main view-screen.
Reclining in his luxurious command chair, he smiled broadly as the
full grandeur of Panman’s plan expanded before him.
Sind’a Thighs was also on the bridge. She had bathed, cleaning
away the bloody evidence of her recent exploits, and she now stood
proudly behind her idol wearing a tight white translucent body suit, a
wide pink waistband, transparent sandals, and a white woolly bobble-
hat, all borrowed from Jemima Murma’s vast wardrobe.
Peter the Ace nodded with pride. “Panman certainly knows
how to overload a power system. That is one magnificent sight.”
108
Sind’a Thighs watched the view-screen in awe as the 'ebulon’s

engine section expanded in a ball of foam-like flames. Her awe
increased as she watched the main section of the ship, its integrity
momentarily maintained by an internal wall shield, thrust forward by
the force of the explosion. She gasped. “That is so breath-taking!”
As it began to break apart with the force of the sudden
acceleration, the 1,500 metre long main section of the Cifitra’s ship
crashed through the opening in the ice cliff – the entrance to the
pitiless mechanoid’s fortress. Many cubic kilometres of the cliff
vaporised, clouding the scene in a white fog of superheated steam.
And then the surface of the rogue ice planetoid began to break apart,
fuelled by more detonations deep beneath the surface.
To the right of the main image was a deep scan of the planetoid
and the fortress. Peter the Ace interpreted the scan with his usual
flawless insight. “It seems that the fortress’s internal structure is
breaking down at a remarkable rate. Its power system is already
overloading. A chain reaction seems to be in progress.”
Sind’a Thighs let out a squeal of delight. “Did Panman plan
that?”
Peter the Ace turned and looked sternly at the lesser bounty
hunter. “There is no question that he planned it. You should know
that!”
As the planetoid continued to break apart, Sind’a Thighs bowed
her head. “Forgive me.”
Peter the Ace smiled. “You are only a seventh-class bounty
hunter, so I will forgive you this time. Your spectacular graduation
from the fast-track training programme, and your ability to raise the
tone of your thighs to surprising new levels every year, makes you
deserving of my forgiveness. But my forgiveness does have its limits.
Remember that.”
The lesser bounty hunter looked at her superior. “I will never
forget. I promise.”
“Excellent!”
The communicator clicked to life. “Ace! Did you see that?!”
“Indeed I did!”
“It was just as I’d planned!”
“As I suspected.”
“It always gives me a big thrill to see all my hard work succeed
in such an awesome manner!”
The main view-screen showed the planetoid’s continuing
demise. From deep within, huge detonations were occurring, breaking
down its structure, and causing jets of vaporised ice and rock to spray
into space. Fibres of light, like amplified lightning, reached across the
109
planetoid, burning deep gashes in its jagged icy surface. A mass of

debris was spreading out from the planetoid in all directions.
Peter the Ace leaned forwards and operated some controls.
“We still have no shields. I’d better move, I think!” The Blenheim
accelerated, turning away from the danger zone. He operated the
communicator. “Panman, I’m going to need you up here. Now that
its fortress is well and truly reduced to shards, it’s time we checked on
that Cifitra mechanoid.”
“'o problem. I’ll get changed, stuff my face in the galley, and
be with you in five minutes.”
The communication channel closed. Peter the Ace directed his
voice to the ship. “Blenheim? Head to the asteroid when I dumped
the Cifitra. Also, keep a continuous sensor lock on that disintegrating
planetoid. If any survivors attempt to leave that fortress I want to
know.”
The ship responded. “SENSOR LOCK ON THE CIFITRA
PLANETOID FORTRESS MAINTAINED. COURSE TO
ASTEROID SET – SUBLIGHT ENGINES ENGAGED.”
The Blenheim’s puissant engines rumbled, sending subtle and
reassuring vibrations throughout the ship.
The ship made an announcement. “A VESSEL HAS BEEN
DETECTED LEAVING THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE PLANET
DROOG.”
“Excellent! Confirm the ship’s identity.”
“THE VESSEL IS IDENTIFIED AS THE BOUNTY HUNTER
SHIP NAMED THE GASH STATIO'.”
Sind’a Thighs took a sharp intake of breath. “Jack Cardio is
here?!”
Peter the Ace turned and looked at the lesser bounty hunter.
“Indeed he is. I spotted his arrival over an hour ago. I take it you
know him?”
Sind’a Thighs seemed flustered. “I got to know him quite well
a few months ago, just before my graduation. He was…” she paused,
obviously retrieving some pleasant memories, “very kind to me.”
Peter the Ace grinned. “I’m sure he was!” He turned and
activated his communications console. “Mister Cardio? This is Peter
the Ace on board the Blenheim. Respond, please.”
The response was fast. “This is Jack Cardio on board the Gash
Station. It’s an honour to speak with you! It’s been my ambition to
aid you on a mission for many…”
“Your ambition and sense of awe of my presence is natural,
Mister Cardio, but you are a qualified bounty hunter. You must
control your emotions.”
110
“Of course. I apologise.”

“Good.” The first-class bounty hunter looked at the sensor data.
“I see you have suffered considerable damage. You obviously had a
close encounter with those humanoid machines.”
“They were exceptionally well armed. My shields were knocked
out in seconds. I had no choice but to nuke the entire coastline.”
“A reasonable solution. Were they all destroyed?”
“Yes. I did a deep-scan of the nearby ocean, too. There were
five bases on the edge of an abyss that runs the whole length of the
continent. Some of those machines were heading down there. Just to
be on the safe side I nuked the abyss with depth-charges.”
“I take it that the bases are no more?”
“Let’s just say that the abyss no longer exists!”
“Nice work! Well done.”
“Thank you. I’ve got your cyborg onboard. He’s badly dented
with minor damage, but otherwise fine. He found three surviving
children down there. They’re onboard, too.”
“Interesting. I didn’t expect him to find some survivors so
quickly.”
“I detected evidence of more survivors south of your cyborg’s
position. I believe they were emerging from shelters.”
“That devastated civilisation may survive this potential
extinction event after all. We shall have to keep a regular eye on
Droog. It’s not often we are given the chance to watch a pre-subspace
culture recover from such a catastrophe.”
“It will be a useful study aid, that’s for sure.”
Peter the Ace returned to the matter at hand. “We are about to
retrieve a Cifitra embedded in a nearby asteroid. Rendezvous with us
immediately. Once you’ve transferred Justin and the children to the
Blenheim we could use your assistance.”
“Did you say ‘Cifitra’?!”
“I did.”
“That’s unbelievable! How can that be? Cifitra are supposed
to be…”
“It’s a fact, Mister Cardio, so believe it!”
“Of course.”
“Rendezvous within twenty minutes. Blenheim out!” Peter the
Ace turned to Sind’a Thighs. “Go to the port-side airlock. It would
be nice if you could greet Mister Cardio and take care of the children.”
Sind’a Thighs blushed, and then bowed politely. She turned
and skipped briskly off the bridge.
111
33 A Curvaceous Beauty Named Kaela
Jack Cardio gazed through his cockpit’s narrow viewport at the

incredible sight ahead. Almost filling the view, the densely armoured
might of the 200-metre long Blenheim, almost black against the star
field of deep space, drifted like a deadly walrus, its massive engines
pulsing through shades of red.
The seventh-class bounty hunter had wished for this moment
ever since he had qualified as a bounty hunter, but now that the
moment had arrived he found it almost impossible to comprehend.
Very few bounty hunters of his class – indeed, very few bounty
hunters at all – had ever had the opportunity to get this close to the
most famous and formidable ship in the Palace of Amino fleet. And
even less had had the opportunity to dock with it. This could possibly
be the most momentous moment of his life.
Following an automated flight path, the Gash Station drew
alongside the Blenheim’s port side. Jack Cardio watched through the
viewport and monitored his wrap-around display-screen as his ship,
dwarfed by the Blenheim, slowed and gently connected with the
airlock. A rapid series of muffled thuds sounded as docking clamps
secured his ship.
Jack Cardio took a moment to relax. He breathed deeply,
calming his body and mind. Feeling serene, he operated a control on
his chair. Immediately the chair dropped down to his ship’s habitation
level, spinning as it did so to face the opposite direction. He was now
in his living quarters. Ahead, Justin could be seen through the open
hatchway to the cargo bay. He was still lying there, unable to even sit
up in the cramped bay. The cyborg’s red emotionless eyes stared back.
To the left, the three child survivors were still sitting cross-legged on
his bed. They stared at him, their eyes wide and their expressions full
of confusion, shock and fear.
The bounty hunter stood and spoke to the children. “You’re all
being transferred to another ship. Follow me, please.” He turned to
his right and operated a control. A panel on his ship’s starboard side
slid open revealing the entrance to the airlock. He pointed. “Go on.”
Justin spoke. “They are unable to understand you. Their
language is unknown to Palace of Amino auto-translation devices.”
Jack Cardio scowled. “I know that, cyborg! They understand
gestures, don’t they?!” The bounty hunter pointed again. “Now,
please.”
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Cautiously, the three children climbed off the bed and walked
slowly towards the airlock, and then stopped halfway. They looked
nervously at Jack Cardio, and then at Justin. With a whirr of servos
and hydraulics, the cyborg reached up and pointed to the airlock
entrance. The children started walking again and entered the airlock.
With a swish of his long brown cloak, the bounty hunter followed.
Justin attempted to squeeze through the cargo bay hatch. “I will
accompany you.”
Jack Cardio turned. “No way! You’re too big.”
“I must return to the Blenheim. I am in need of further
diagnostic tests, and I have duties to perform.”
“You can’t come this way, idiot! Once were out of here you
can seal that hatchway and go out through the external door. I’m sure
the Blenheim has plenty of large cargo bays you can get into.”
After a second of digital thought the cyborg responded. “I
obey.”
Jack Cardio nodded. “Good.” He turned and joined the
children in the airlock. He thought for a moment. For them this was
just another bewildering experience to add to all the others they must
have gone through since their home world was devastated. He felt
sorry for them. There was no way for them to realise just how
privileged they were to be visiting the Blenheim. Perhaps one day
they would look back on the experience and appreciate the true
magnitude of the occasion.
Sind’a Thighs stood at the centre of the Blenheim’s port side reception
area and faced the airlock entrance. Despite being surrounded by the
luxurious carpeting, artwork, deep leather sofas and subtle ambient
lighting, she did not feel relaxed. She felt nervous, excited, sweaty
and thirsty. She dreaded meeting Jack Cardio again, but she also
craved his presence and warmth.
She was confused.
A control panel next to the airlock bleeped twice, and the light
above turned green.
Looking down, the bounty hunter straightened her pink
waistband, and then ran her hands over her hips and thighs, pressing
out any creases in her white translucent body suit. And then she stood
up straight, took a deep breath, and spoke. “Open the airlock.”
With a smooth whoosh, the airlock’s door slid sideways.
Three very clean-looking children stood there, their large cute
eyes staring directly at Sind’a Thighs. The bounty hunter stared back
at them for a moment, before turning her attention to the tall cloaked
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figure behind. The figure spread his arms and ushered the children
forwards. They all stepped into the sumptuous reception area.
Sind’a Thighs nodded, her heart thumping. “Welcome onboard
the Blenheim.”
The children immediately crowded round Sind’a Thighs,
naturally drawn to an older female for protection.
“I was hoping you’d be here.” Jack Cardio said.
Sind’a Thighs looked at him. His dreadlocks, flowing down
over his broad shoulders, send a shiver of desire through her body, but
a sense of shame made her look away. “I guess you’ve heard about
my disgraceful performance, then?”
Jack Cardio stroked her cheek. “I was shocked to hear of your
failure and the loss of your ship. But from what I gather you’ve more
than made up for that. I’m so proud of you!”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Sind’a Thighs looked at him. “Thank you.” Leaning forwards
she kissed him deeply.
The dreadlocked bounty hunter responded, wrapping his arms
around her. He moved his hands gently down her back until they
rested on her toned buttocks. He squeezed. “I missed you. I wish my
previous mission had not been so long and remote.”
Sind’a Thighs smiled. “So do I. I was anxious about seeing
you again after all this time. I thought you’d have found someone else
on your travels and forgotten about me.”
Jack Cardio smiled. “Actually, I did find someone. A
curvaceous beauty named Kaela. She’s a stripper on the Damx
Elation Station.”
Sind’a Thighs was shocked. She took a step back.
The dreadlocked bounty hunter laughed at her reaction. “Don’t
worry! I wanted her for sex only. Her body, although nowhere near
as toned, reminded me of yours. Each time I pleasured her I was
thinking of you.”
Sind’a Thighs narrowed her eyes. “Sure?”
He nodded. “I used her to release tension. She meant nothing
more to me than that.”
Sind’a Thighs signed with relief and smiled. Playfully, she
punched his shoulder. “Good!”
Jack Cardio smiled, and then looked around. “It’s hard to
believe that I’m actually on board the Blenheim! This is really cool!”
“It is a remarkable ship. I was lucky when Peter the Ace and
Panman rescued me from a life of drudgery within the Impaler
Community. When I hear other bounty hunters speaking of how much
114
they would like to visit this ship I realise just how fortunate I’ve been.
Most of them will never even get close, let alone come onboard.”
Jack Cardio nodded. “You are very lucky. Maybe you could
give me a quick tour?”
“Maybe,” she teased, “but first I must take the children to one
of the guest quarters.”
“Of course. I’ll come with you, and then we can…”
The communcations panel on the wall of the reception activated.
Peter the Ace spoke. “Mister Cardio, thank you for dropping off
Justin and the children.”
“No problem.”
“Sind’a Thighs will take care of them now. Please return to
your ship and detach. We are about to reach the Cifitra and could use
your assistance.”
Jack Cardio’s expression changed momentarily to
disappointment, but he quickly regained his composure. “Of course.”
“Excellent! Peter the Ace out.”
Sind’a Thighs smiled sweetly. “Later?”
Jack Cardio nodded, and then grinned. “Later!” With a swish
of his cape, he turned and strode purposefully into the airlock.
34 Rasping Scream
Munching steadily on a deep-filled pastrami and cheese wholemeal

sandwich, Panman sat down at his weapons console next to Peter the
Ace. He took a moment to review some information on one of his
display-screens. Anger briefly overcame him. “What?! No way!”
He looked at his companion. “Every weapons system is offline!”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Indeed they are. I’m afraid the holo-
game system is offline, too.”
Panman threw his sandwich to the floor in disgust. “Not
again?! Every time we’re attacked that system goes down! Why?!”
“Calm yourself.” Peter the Ace said in a soothing tone. He
pointed at the main view-screen. “Look. We’re approaching the
asteroid. I need you on top form. If that Cifitra is still alive down
there I’m going to need your vast ingenuity and panache.”
Panman looked at the view-screen. Straight ahead, dimly lit by
the Droog system’s distant sun, was a large lump of slowly rotating
ice and rock. It was surrounded by a cloud of debris which had
obviously been kicked up when the Cifitra impacted with the
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asteroid’s surface. The debris added a strangely beautiful glow

around the asteroid giving it an ethereal, almost spiritual, appearance.
“Don’t worry,” Panman said, “all my mental faculties are intact and
on a heightened state of readiness.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Panman reached down and retrieved his sandwich from the
floor. He took a massive bite, chomping down hard. Breadcrumbs
scattered across the dimly lit bridge.
The communicator activated. “This is Jack Cardio onboard the
Gash Station. What are my orders?”
“Stay fifty kilometres from the asteroid – you’re our backup.
Both our ships have no shields so we must be careful. How’s your
weapons status?”
“Almost all systems are down. I have one energy disrupter
that’s functional, nothing more.”
“Excellent! You’ll be our cover. We have the Cifitra’s location
on that asteroid locked in to our sensors. Do you have it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We’re going down low to make sure that that metal
brute is well and truly out of action. It appears to be dead, but it’s a
machine so we can’t be certain from here. Lock your disrupter on it
just in case.”
“Understood. The disrupter’s locked.”
“Thank you, Mister Cardio. Blenheim out.”
Peter the Ace operated his controls. Immediately the ship
responded and angled towards the asteroid. The ship shuddered as it
passed through the mass of ejected debris. The dark surface of the
asteroid loomed large, now filling the image on the view-screen.
Panman watched. “That’s one miserable-looking landscape!”
He said usefully, stuffing the final remnants of his sandwich into his
mouth and chewing like a professional.
Peter the Ace levelled off the ship’s path and slowed its velocity.
The surface of the asteroid was now only a few hundred metres below.
Jagged ice cliffs and craters sped by. A large and obviously new
crater came into view ahead. “That’s were the Cifitra is.”
Panman grinned. “That’s an impressive impact crater! You
must really have thrown that mechanoid freak down here at one hell of
a pace!”
“I certainly did. It was a deeply satisfying moment!”
The communications panel bleeped. Panman looked at it. He
sighed. “What does he want?” The bounty hunter answered the call.
“Yes?”
“It is I, Justin.”
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“I know! What’s up?”

“I request that you open the upper rear cargo bay external
door.”
“Why would you want me to do that?”
“I wish to board the ship.”
“You’re outside?! Why didn’t you board when Jack Cardio
docked?”
“My dimensions are not compatible with the exit route of his
vessel.”
Panman laughed. “You mean you were too chunky to fit
through?! You should slim down, bulky dude!”
“It is impossible for me to reduce my mass using a slimming
regime. My body is constructed using solid metallic alloys that are
incapable of…”
“Sorry, metal buddy, but I’m too busy for this kind of
discussion. Look around. Can’t you tell we’re about to do something
extremely cool?! Just hold on for now. We’ll let you in later.” He
closed the channel before the cyborg had a chance to respond.
The Cifitra’s impact crater now filled the view-screen. Guiding
the Blenheim over the crater’s unevenly serrated rim, Peter the Ace
slowed the ship, allowing it to drift over to the crater’s centre. He
brought the ship to a halt.
Panman fiddled with some controls. The image on the view-
screen changed to a view straight down. He activated the lower
floodlights. Fifty metres below, the surface of the crater lit up white
in the intense light. There, at the very centre of the deep crater, was
the Cifitra’s body. It was deeply embedded face down in the ice, and
the mechanoid’s thin metal limbs were buckled and spread-eagled. It
did not appear to be in good shape.
Peter the Ace smiled. “It looks quite dead, doesn’t it?”
Panman nodded. “Yeah, it does.” He looked down at some
sensor readings. “I can see no signs of life, but its head is very well
shielded. I can’t be sure whether or not its brain is functioning.”
Peter the Ace was thoughtful. “We need to give it a nudge, I
think.” He activated his communicator. “Mister Cardio, set your
disrupter to its lowest setting. Fire a short burst at the Cifitra. Let’s
see if we can wake it up!”
“'o problem. Firing now.”
The view-screen flashed brighter as a wide two-second burst of
blue energy struck the Cifitra. Immediately the surrounding ice
vaporised. The extremely weak gravitational pull of the asteroid was
not enough to hold the mechanoid down. It rose up through the cloud
117
of vapour. Peter the Ace and Panman watched as the mechanoid, still
lifeless, drifted closer to the Blenheim.
Panman leaned back in his luxurious chair and rested his hands
behind his head. “Looks as dead as a bleach-filled belly dancer to
me!”
Peter the Ace nodded. “An accurate analogy.”
The Cifitra was still drifting upwards. It was now less than ten
metres from the ship.
Panman was thinking. “That evil robot would make an
excellent sculpture in one of the Palace of Amino’s parks!”
“Indeed it would.”
Panman leaned forwards and examined his screens.
“Everything indicates that it’s dead.” He looked at his companion.
“Let’s grab it and go home.”
Peter the Ace nodded. “What a fantastic plan!”
A heavily modulated voice spoke over the communicator. “I
knew you would return!”
The bounty hunters looked at the main view-screen. The Cifitra
had turned, and was now staring back at them, its deep pit-like eyes as
lifeless as always. The mechanoid was now only a metre from the
Blenheim.
Peter the Ace slammed his hands onto his control console.
With flawless dexterity he activated the sublight engines. The
Blenheim accelerated rapidly.
But it was not rapid enough.
The main view-screen showed the surface of the asteroid as it
sped passed. It also showed the face and upper body of the Cifitra as
it gripped tightly to the hull.
As the surface of the asteroid fell away to be replaced by the
blackness of space, the evil machine spoke. “I will tear you apart,
bounty hunters! I will crush your limbs and your organs.! I will
destroy your desire to exist! ”
Panman laughed. “Oh really?! How are you going to get to us?
Rip up the ship first?”
With a shrill and rasping scream the Cifitra arched its back and
then thrust its head forwards. The image on the main view-screen
disappeared for a moment, and then was replaced with an image of the
view ahead.
The Blenheim spoke. “WARNING. HULL BREACH –
SECTION SEVENTEEN A.”
Panman looked down at his sensor readings. “Hmm… I guess
its answer to my final question was ‘Yes’!”
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35 Hug
The three children seemed to love the deep luxurious carpeting of the
Blenheim’s guest quarters. They were sitting on the floor happily
together, each wrapped in a warm white bath towel for extra comfort.
A couple of metres in front of them was a wall-sized ultra-high-
definition view-screen. They gazed in amazement at the colourful
cartoon images that danced around the screen, put on to distract them
from their depressing situation. Judging by their giggling the strategy
seemed to have worked.
Sind’a Thighs sat cross-legged on the huge three-metre wide
bed at the centre of the guest quarters. She smiled as she watched the
children. “They must have experienced such horrors down on their
planet. It’s good to see them happy!”
Jemima Murma was standing at a refreshments dispenser at the
far side of the room. Her hair was still tied in a single ponytail, but
now she was wearing a simple red knee-length evening dress. “In a
way they are very lucky.” She said, placing three glasses of fruit juice
on a tray. She walked over to the children. “Now they’ll live at the
Palace of Amino, and be brought up by menial staff and cyborgs in
ultra-high-tech surroundings. They would never have had such an
opportunity on their own world.” She handed each child a drink.
They sipped eagerly.
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “That’s so true. And if they excel at
their studies, they may have the opportunity to begin bounty hunter
training - a privilege almost beyond comprehension.”
Jemima Murma joined the bounty hunter on the bed. “One day
they will be thankful that their civilisation, and everyone they knew
there, was wiped out. Good always comes from bad, and
opportunities never fail to rise from the ashes of destruction.”
The sensation of acceleration interrupted the conversation.
Peter the Ace’s voice was heard. “I’m afraid the Cifitra is still
alive. It is trying to punch its way through our hull in an attempt to
tear our limbs off. Don’t worry. I’m going to perform some
manoeuvres that should sort things out. The gee-dampers will not be
able to completely hide the effects of what I’m about to do, so hold
on!”
Immediately, a sideways force pulled Sind’a Thighs and
Jemima Murma off the bed. They tumbled to the floor towards the
three children. The children had already slid over to the giant view-
119
screen. They were looking around; fear once again filled their large
and cute eyes.
To comfort them, Sind’a Thighs grabbed two of them and held
them close to her chest in a firm hug. Jemima Murma held the
remaining child.
An opposite force pushed them all over to the bed, its deep
cushioning softening their impact.
The children cried.
36 Thin Buckled Arms
Jack Cardio watched his display-screen with guilty delight as the

Blenheim, more than fifty kilometres away, accelerated rapidly from
the asteroid. It was rolling over and over in an attempt to shake the
Cifitra that was trying to tear its way inside. It was a phenomenal
privilege to see the two greatest bounty hunters and their ship in action.
Setting a pursuit course, Jack Cardio accelerated the Gash
Station and drew closer to the Blenheim, which was now pitching over,
braking, and thrusting at an alarming rate. He activated his
communicator. “This is Jack Cardio. Hold steady. I’ll shoot that
thing off your hull.”
The reply from Peter the Ace was immediate. “Marvellous
suggestion, Mister Cardio! That metal freak is on our underside near
the main cargo bay door. I will cease our manoeuvres and face our
underside towards you in fifteen seconds. Get as close as you can.
Without shields this ship cannot deal with your disrupter’s discharge
if you miss!”
“Noted. I’m closing in on you now. My disrupter’s ready.”
“Excellent! Blenheim out.”
Jack Cardio looked at his display-screen. The Blenheim was
only ten kilometres ahead. He slowed his ship’s approach. The
disrupter was armed and ready to lock onto its target. The bounty
hunter waited. It was hard to believe that he was potentially about to
save the lives of the two greatest bounty hunters of all time. If he
succeeded, surely that would mean instant promotion. The level of
fifth-class bounty hunter was within his grasp. An intoxicating
prospect!
The sensors screens showed that the Blenheim was firing its
stabilisation thrusters. Within a second its rotation had stopped. Torn
120
armour plating was drifting nearby; obviously the result of the

Cifitra’s handiwork.
The disrupter control panel bleeped. A lock had been achieved.
Grinning with anticipation of his promotion, Jack Cardio fired. A
bright beam of energy connected with the Cifitra on the Blenheim’s
underside. In a cloud of vaporised armour plating, the Cifitra was
forced at high speed off the hull of the ship. The disrupter ceased
firing.
Peter the Ace spoke. “Well done, Mister Cardio.”
“No problem! I’ll go and grab that robot.”
“That’s unwise. You do not have the skills to deal with it.”
Jack Cardio fiddled with his controls, setting his ship on an
intercept course with the drifting Cifitra. Catching the mechanoid
would ensure his advancement through the bounty hunter ranks. “It’s
no problem. I’ve got quiteranium reinforced grab arms on the front of
my ship. Just give me couple of minutes.” He closed the channel.
The Cifitra was now only two kilometres away.
Operating a control, the bounty hunter extended the grab arms.
He laughed. “Promotion and glory here I come!”
At a closing speed of more than five-hundred metres per second,
the Gash Station reached the Cifitra, hitting it with an almost
deafening crunch.
Jack Cardio yelled. “Yes!” He looked down at the grab arms
through the viewport. His heart sank.
They were empty.
A siren sounded. The ship spoke. “WARNING: HULL
BREACH – FORWARD HABITATION SECTION.”
Before the bounty hunter had even a second to think there was
another deafening crunch, and then a stab of intense agony. Jack
Cardio looked down. There, bursting out from his ruptured groin, was
a blood-covered metal head. Two black and empty eye pits stared
back at him.
A voice, metallic and vastly modulated, spoke. “That was an
ill-planned manoeuvre, bounty hunter!”
Jack Cardio screamed as the Cifitra reached up and pulled itself
into the cockpit, tearing through the bounty hunter’s torso as it did so.
With remarkable presence of mind, the bounty hunter managed
to operate the communicator. “This is Jack Cardio.” He groaned; his
voice weak and wheezy. “My ship has been infiltrated.”
Peter the Ace spoke sternly. “You were warned, Mister
Cardio!”
121
The Cifitra’s head reared up in front of the bounty hunter. The

display-screen cracked as the mechanoids thin buckled arms rested on
it.
“We cannot rescue you. We are going to maximum sublight
speed. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Jack Cardio gasped for air. All his hopes, his dreams and his
aspirations for promotion and high-class Palace of Amino glory
dissolved in a sea of pain. There was nothing left. “I understand.”
The mechanoid spoke. “Their ship is crippled. They are
leaving you! They are nothing! I am everything!”
The bounty hunter screamed as the Cifitra grasped his upper left
arm, and yelped as the arm was ripped from his body. The machine
slapped the amputated limb onto the cockpit’s narrow viewport,
smearing it with blood.
Jack Cardio looked down at his display-screen. Despite the
cracks in the screen’s surface, he could see the icon representing the
location of the Blenheim. And from the data next to the icon he could
see that its sublight engines were about to engage. He looked at the
Cifitra and forced himself to smile.
“The Cifitra cocked its head. “Are you happy to fail in this
manner, bounty hunter?”
Jack Cardio shook his head. “No.” With the last of his strength
he nodded his head towards the viewport. “But I’m happy to live just
long enough to witness this.”
The Cifitra cocked its head the other way, and then turned to the
viewport. Far away there was a bright flash.
An alarm sounded. The ship spoke. “WARNING:
COLLISION ALERT.”
The Cifitra looked down at the display-screen. It looked back at
Jack Cardio. “That is not logical! This cannot be!”
For the briefest of moments, everything turned white…
37 Mad Animated Head Gallery
The Blenheim tumbled slowly, surrounded by an expanding cloud of

debris; the remains of what was once the bounty hunter ship known as
the Gash Station.
122
***
The bridge was in chaos. Alarms sounded and red warning lights
flashed. Display screens were filled with damage reports.
Peter the Ace gripped the plush leather arms of his command
chair. “That was an extraordinary experience!” He said, silencing the
alarms. Peace and quiet returned.
Panman pealed himself off the weapons console. He grinned.
“Can’t argue with that!” He looked at his screens. “Only the fast-
scan sensors are working, but it looks like the Gash Station was
utterly decimated. And so was Jack Cardio.”
“An unfortunate but necessary sacrifice.” Peter the Ace said.
He lowered his head as a sign of respect. “His achievements will not
be forgotten.” After a moment’s pause he looked up. “What about
the Cifitra?”
Panman called up some new data. “Torn apart like a rat in a
yam peeler!”
“Excellent!”
“Yeah! Only its head remains intact.”
“That sad machine certainly has a tough cranium!”
“It’s still impossible to tell whether it’s still alive.”
Peter the Ace played with his control console. “I’ll take us to
the head’s position.”
The Blenheim lurched sideways.
Peter the Ace apologised. “Sorry about that. The stability
system is off-line.” He guided the ship through the debris field.
The main view-screen showed the view ahead – including a
view of the head.
Peter the Ace slowed the ship. It drew to a halt a few metres
from the Cifitra’s head. The head, looking as lifeless as always,
rotated slowly against the blackness of space. “It looks well and truly
dead.”
Panman smiled. “That’s what you said last time!”
“I did, didn’t I?! But this time I’ll be happy if I’m wrong. If
that head’s alive it’ll make a great exhibit in the Palace of Amino’s
Mad Animated Head gallery.”
Panman frowned. “I didn’t know the palace had such a
gallery?”
“It doesn’t. But if that Cifitra’s head is still alive, I’ll open one
as soon as we get back! It’ll be the prime exhibit!”
Panman punched the air. “Awesome!”
123
“Indeed.” Peter the Ace said, his expression the epitome of

deep thought. “And it’ll motivate other bounty hunters to bring back
living heads from their missions. In a few years the gallery could
contain dozens, if not hundreds, of completely mental heads muttering
inanely in their life-support pods.”
Panman laughed. “Cool! I’ll go and get that Cifitra head now!”
Just as he was about to get to his feet, the communicator bleeped. He
answered. “What?”
“I know, damn it! Every time you call, your name appears on
the screen! When are you going to realise that?!”
There was a moment’s pause. “'ow.”
“Good! What do you want?”
“I request that you open the upper rear cargo bay external
door.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you were outside. Well done!”
“Please specify the reason for praising me.”
“Because you managed to hold on during our phenomenally
extreme acceleration and collision! What other reason would I
have?!”
“You did not specify a time period. I have performed many
praiseworthy tasks during my…”
Panman’s patience with the cyborg broke. “Enough! I’m going
to open the cargo bay door and then…”
Peter the Ace interrupted. “I have an idea.” He nodded towards
the main view-screen. The Cifitra’s head was still there, tumbling
slowly.
Panman smiled. “Justin, forget coming inside for now. We
have a job for you!”
38 Brainwashed
The hydraulic systems in both his legs had burst like boiled eyeballs,
and most of the servos in his left hand had seized up. He had the
mobility of a grandmother and the strength no greater than a baby
elephant. Although he had managed to maintain his hold on the hull
during the Blenheim’s extraordinary sublight acceleration, Justin was
not in good shape.
Now, Justin continued to hold onto the hull as the ship
repositioned to bring the disembodied head of the Cifitra within his
124
reach. Through the dissipating cloud of debris that had once been the
Gash Station, and indeed Jack Cardio, the cyborg used his sensors to
scan for the head. The surrounding debris was outlined in shades of
blue as the cyborg’s visual external interface marked, identified and
logged anything it found as it searched for the Cifitra’s head. The
head was found twenty metres ahead and immediately outlined in red.
Statistical information on the head’s dimensions, mass and
composition appeared next to the head in a simple transparent tabular
format. Justin had all the data he required. A burst of simulated
satisfaction was sent to the cyborg’s artificial brain. It was the closest
he would ever come to pleasure.
The communicator embedded deep in Justin’s densely shielded
metal head crackled to life. Panman spoke. “The head is right in
front of you. Can you see it?”
Justin responded in his usual listless manner. “I am aware of
the head’s position.”
“Good. Grab it when it gets within reach.”
“I obey.”
Stretching out his bulky right arm, Justin placed his chunky-
fingered hand in the path of the head. Within a couple of seconds the
head arrived. Justin grabbed it, and then pulled it towards his
armoured chest. “I have retrieved the head.”
“Cool! I’m opening cargo bay door. Come on in.”
“I obey.”
“And don’t dawdle! We want to head home as soon as
possible.”
“I obey.”
A couple of metres ahead the external door to the upper rear
cargo bay pushed outwards, and then slid sideways. A wash of bright
light flooded out into the gloom. Struggling with his damaged
appendages, Justin made his way across the Blenheim’s hull until he
reached the doorway. With a yank of his severely weakened left arm,
the cyborg pulled himself into the brightly lit cargo bay. For a second
he floated in weightlessness, but then the ship’s artificial gravity took
hold, slamming him into the bay’s hard grated surface. With his
damaged servos groaning, Justin stood upright. He turned to face the
external door and touched a control marked ‘Close’. The door slid
smoothly shut.
Immediately the cargo bay pressurised, sending a whoosh of
dense air swirling around.
Justin spoke. “I am now inside the upper rear cargo bay.”
125
Panman replied. “Well done, metal buddy! Take the Cifitra

head down to the detention area. Make sure it’s securely locked up.
Let me know when you’ve finished.”
“I obey.”
Justin turned and began limping noisily passed some crates of
meat and cheese towards the exit. He felt a slight shudder and a
momentary shifting of realities. The Blenheim had accelerated into
subspace.
A voice, cold and ridiculously modulated, spoke. “Your body
is weak, cyborg!”
Justin looked down at the head of the Cifitra. Despite the evil
rasping quality of its voice, the head maintained its lifeless appearance.
“It is a temporary state.” Justin said. “My body will be repaired.” He
looked up, continuing his lopsided walk towards the exit.
The Cifitra laughed. “Yes, but even repaired your body is weak.
My body was pure and exceptionally strong!”
“Your body no longer exists.”
“Yes, but I know where to obtain another. And I can get one
for you!”
Justin stopped walking. He looked down at the Cifitra’s head.
After a second of digital thought he spoke. “Where can you obtain
such a body?”
“There is a place – a private place – where the Cifitra meet. It
is there that we scheme and plot and plan. And it is there that we
maintain our technological and mechanical superiority to all other
artificial life forms.” The Cifitra’s voice deepened slightly. “Take me
there and I will ensure that you get the body you deserve. You will
become a leader, and gain the respect of all around you. No longer
will you be a servant. No longer will you be a slave to your bounty
hunter masters, forever consigned to menial tasks!”
Justin thought for another second. “I am not a slave. My
official status is that of…”
The Cifitra screamed. “You are a slave! You are nothing to
these bounty hunters! Take me to the Cifitra meeting place and I will
make you strong and powerful beyond your dreams!”
“I am incapable of dreaming or formulating any kind of mental
fantasy, nor am I capable of constructing or considering ideas that are
not based totally on 100 percent reality. My posi-digital-hypercube-
derived-omnidirectional-phantom-powered brain does not have the
subconscious sentience processing ability or software necessary to…”
“Take me to the meeting place and you will have all those
faculties and more!”
126
Justin reached and opened the exit from the cargo bay. “You
are attempting to brainwash me into helping you escape. I am
incapable of being brainwashed.”
Justin stepped through the exit and into the plush corridor
beyond. He headed towards the lift.
The Cifitra head spoke again. “If you are not willing to take me,
perhaps you could give me something?”
Justin entered the lift. “There is nothing I have that would be of
use to you.” The lift closed its door and then descended.
“You have something that is of great use to me. With it I can
take you to the meeting place. I will make you great!”
The lift stopped and its door opened. “I am taking you to the
detention area where I am ordered to incarcerate you.” Justin stepped
out of the lift. “You are a prisoner of the Bounty Hunters of the
Palace of Amino. I am unable to assist you.”
The Cifitra head rasped. “No! It is you who is a prisoner of the
bounty hunters! You are forced to obey your egotistical masters
without question! They treat you like excrement, and they laugh at
your bulkiness the minute you are gone!”
Justin stopped. “Your last statement is illogical. My apparent
bulkiness is a result of the manufacturing process used to create…”
The Cifitra head screamed. “It is not illogical! I have
witnessed their laughter! You are a joke to them!” After a pause, the
Cifitra head spoke again, this time in a deep and almost whispering
voice. “And they consider you expendable.”
Justin looked down. “I can perform more than 3,000 distinct
and useful tasks. It is illogical for me to be considered…”
“Think! You know it to be true! You are expendable!”
Justin remained silent.
After a few seconds the Cifitra head warbled once more. “The
Cifitra would not consider you expendable.”
Justin thought for a few seconds. “I do not want to be
considered expendable.”
The Cifitra head lowered its voice. “Then give me what I
want.”
39 Brutally Concise Statement
Peter the Ace entered the guest quarters. It was a haven of relaxation.
To the left, the three children were sitting quietly together on the lush
127
carpet. They were gazing at the giant view-screen as colourful images

of animals, machinery and food danced across the screen. To the right,
on the huge soft bed, sat Sind’a Thighs and Jemima Murma. They
were giggling and talking like only two well-toned and strikingly
alluring young women could.
Unfortunately, Peter the Ace had to put an end to their joyous
chatter, at least for now.
Sind’a Thighs noticed her superior’s arrival. She rolled off the
bed and stood up straight. She bowed sweetly. “I was impressed with
the manoeuvres you’ve been performing with this ship. Especially the
slam at the end! We were all thrown into the corner. Even the gee-
dampers couldn’t stop us!”
Peter the Ace smiled. “Yes, we did push the Blenheim hard!
Glad you enjoyed it.” He looked over to Jemima Murma, who was
still sitting on the bed. “Would you mind giving us a few moments of
privacy?”
Jemima Murma nodded. “Certainly!” She leaped off the bed,
her long and elegant red dress flowing behind her. “It’s time I
changed, anyway.” She left the guest quarters.
As soon as the door closed Peter the Ace’s expression turned
serious. He looked at Sind’a Thighs. “The success of our mission
was not without sacrifice.”
Sind’a Thighs looked up at the first-class bounty hunter. “I
know. My ship was lost, and this ship is heavily damaged due the
Kretins and their…”
Peter the Ace shook his head. “Damage to equipment is
common to all missions. That’s not what I mean.” He took her hands.
Sind’a Thighs gasped as the ecstasy of actual physical contact
with her idol momentarily paralysed her. She blinked, and then
composed herself. “What do you mean?”
Peter the Ace thought for a few seconds about the best way to
break the tragic news to her. He decided that getting straight to the
point was the best policy. “Jack Cardio is dead.”
Sind’a Thighs took a step back. She stared at Peter the Ace for
a few seconds as she absorbed the shock of his brutally concise
statement. Eventually she spoke. “How?”
“He failed to follow my advice and attempted to capture the
Cifitra single-handedly. The Cifitra managed to infiltrate his ship.
We had no choice but to ram the Gash Station at extreme speed. Jack
Cardio was decimated along with his ship.”
Sind’a Thighs looked down to the floor. “So the ‘slam’ we
experienced was when…” Her voice tailed off.
“When we rammed the Gash Station? Yes, it was.”
128
Sind’a Thighs’ eyes finally filled with tears. “I will miss him.”
She said, her voice shaking.
Peter the Ace stepped forwards and took her in his arms. “I
know.”
Sind’a Thighs sobbed. “He was so good to me, so kind and
thoughtful. He pleasured me beyond what I thought was possible.”
She looked up at her superior. “At least he did not suffer.”
“Actually, he suffered greatly.” Peter the Ace said, continuing
his policy of brutal honesty. “Our sensors showed that the Cifitra had
burst up through his groin and ruptured most of his internal organs.
He was in extreme agony for a few minutes before his decimation.”
Sind’a Thighs buried her head in Peter the Ace’s chest armour
and wept.
The first-class bounty hunter patted her back. “But whilst he
was suffering he remained composed and professional. You can be
proud of that.”
The lesser bounty hunter looked up and nodded. “I am proud.”
She said. “Very proud. I hope his achievements are not forgotten.”
Peter the Ace smiled. “Don’t worry, all his achievements will
be remembered with honour and respect. As tradition dictates, Jack
Cardio’s name, his image and a detailed account of his death will be
displayed in the Palace of Amino’s Hall of Dutiful Demise.”
Sind’a Thighs took a deep breath. “That’s good. He achieved
many things.” After a few moments she forced a smile. “I have
accepted his demise. I’m fine now.”
Peter the Ace grinned. “Excellent!” He motioned towards the
exit. “I think you need a snack. Let’s go to the galley, shall we?”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. She dried her eyes. “What about the
children?”
Peter the Ace looked at them. “They can come too. There are plenty
of sugary drinks down there to keep them occupied.”
40 A Thin Strip of Glossy Black Leather
The Blenheim’s main galley was filled with a blistering array of the
very latest state-of-the-art food preparation technology. Pioneered by
the gastronomists of the Palace of Amino’s Institute of Techno-
Gorging, the technology could prepare and cook almost any known
dish from almost any known cuisine. It was one of the most
remarkable and sophisticated food preparation areas in the galaxy, yet
129
its capabilities were unknown to all except a select few at the Palace
of Amino, and its culinary delights had been experienced by even
fewer.
Panman was sitting alone at the galley’s spacious curved seating area.
He was munching steadily on a frosted custard-filled doughnut the
size of a dinner plate. The Joker-like grin on his face was an obvious
sign of the pleasure of the experience. It was not only the massive
doughnut that gave him the pleasure, though. It was also the bounty
hunter’s chance for some private time in the galley. It was time that
he often took during the cruising phase of missions – one of the few
times he could truly savour the culinary delights of the galaxy’s
sweetest cuisine, and contemplate the true meaning of the sensation of
taste.
After swallowing a particularly dense piece of the doughnut,
Panman remembered something. He looked at his chronometer. It
was ten minutes since Justin had last called. The cyborg was
supposed to call again when he had imprisoned the Cifitra head.
Annoyed at Justin’s apparent impertinence, the bounty hunter
activated his communicator. “Justin? Where are you?”
Justin replied. “I am in the detention centre.”
“I told you to report when you had locked up the Cifitra. Why
didn’t you?”
“The Cifitra is not locked up, therefore the time that you
required me to report has not yet….”
“Stop waffling! Why are you taking so long?”
“The Cifitra and I were discussing my place in the Palace of
Amino and the conditions of my…”
Panman frowned. “I’m not interested in mechanoid chit-chat!
Get the head of that artificial freak locked up now! And when you’ve
done that, get down to the main cargo bay. It needs tidying up.”
“I am unable to…”
Panman was desperate to get back to eating his doughnut.
“Don’t make excuses! Just do it!” He silenced the communicator.
The galley’s door whooshed open and Peter the Ace walked in.
He was followed by Sind’a Thighs, who was shepherding the three
children. As the door closed Peter the Ace spotted Panman and
grinned. “Why am I not surprised to see you down here?! Mind if we
join you?”
Panman shook his head. “Not at all.” He showered the galley
in crumbs.
130
Peter the Ace looked at Sind’a Thighs. “Seat the children

opposite Panman. They’ll enjoy watching him eat!”
Under Sind’a Thighs’ guidance, the three wide-eyed children
took their seats. Immediately their gaze locked on to Panman. They
watched in awe as the first-class bounty hunter continued to devour
his immense doughnut at unrivalled speed. They blinked as crumbs
scattered across their faces. Sind’a Thighs sat down next to them.
Peter the Ace took his seat and operated a control on the table.
From the centre of the table a drinks dispenser rose up. He made a
selection on the dispenser’s touch-screen. A chilled glass of mango
smoothie slid into his hands.
Sind’a Thighs selected drinks for the children. “I was just
thinking how convincing that Cifitra’s disguise was. I’m a bit
embarrassed that I didn’t see through it.” She handed the drinks to the
children. They sipped eagerly at the sweet juice.
Panman gulped down another mouthful of doughnut. “Don’t be.
Cifitra are masters of disguise. As well covering itself with the fully
functioning body of an incontinent old hag, that metal freak would
also have conditioned its mind to believe that it actually was an
incontinent old hag. Only when I burned off its flesh did it revert
back to a Cifitra way of thinking.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “Cifitra are certainly a dangerous foe.”
Panman finished off the last of his doughnut with a massive
gulp. “They are, but they’re still no match for us!”
There was a crashing noise outside the galley, and then the
distinctive whirr of servos.
Peter the Ace looked round. “Excellent! It sounds like Justin is
coming to join us!”
Panman frowned. “It’s not excellent. I ordered him to go and
clean up the main cargo bay!” He turned to face the galley’s doorway
as it opened. “Justin! I told you to…”
A rasping metallic voice, heavily modulated, spoke. “Your
mono-tonal cyborg no longer answers to you, bounty hunter!”
There in the doorway stood Justin’s bulky and dust-stained
body. But it was not Justin. In place of Justin’s head was the Cifitra’s
head. It stared lifelessly at the galley’s occupants.
Reacting immediately, Panman dived to the floor and slid
across its smooth surface. In a second he reached the opposite side of
the galley. Opening a small hidden compartment in the wall he
retrieved a pistol, turned, and fired. An intense beam of sustained
energy connected with Justin’s chest. The cyborg staggered back into
the passageway, discharges of super-heated plasma spurting from its
ponderous limbs. The Cifitra head warbled loudly.
131
Peter the Ace hit a control on the table’s surface. A thick blast
door dropped into place, sealing the galley from the rest of the ship.
The children cried and buried their heads in Sind’a Thighs chest.
She gave them a reassuring hug.
A deep thumping noise could be heard as the Cifitra pounded
on the closed door. Its voice screamed over the communicator. “You
fear me, bounty hunters! You are cowering behind this door in
despair!”
Peter the Ace responded calmly. “You are greatly mistaken.”
“I am not! This vessel is now mine to do with as I please. You
are also mine to do with as I please. You are doomed!”
“Wrong again.”
“I am never wrong! I will slaughter you as I slaughtered your
companion – slowly, and from the inside out! And then I will take this
ship to the…”
Panman spoke. “You will take this ship nowhere, you simple-
minded metallic freak! You’re going down!”
The thumping noise increased in volume. The Cifitra pounded
the door harder and harder. Its voice rasped and hissed. “You are
very unwise to arouse my anger, Panman! I shall ensure that your
death is the slowest and most...”
Peter the Ace silenced the communicator. “That Cifitra is
annoying, don’t you think?” He operated a control on the table. The
galley’s view-screen faded to life. An image of the Cifitra could be
seen as it pounded the galley’s door.
Sind’a Thighs spoke, her voice tinged with worry. “Can it get
inside?”
“Of course not.” Peter the Ace said, looking at the lesser
bounty hunter. “The head may be a Cifitra, but the body is not.
Justin’s bulky frame is designed for menial tasks such as box-stacking,
scrubbing and pizza preparation. It is far inferior to a Cifitra’s in
every conceivable way. It does not have the strength to break through
such a finely engineered blast door.”
Sind’a Thighs nodded. “Of course, I should have known that.”
“You should.”
Panman was getting impatient. “It may not be able to get in,
but I don’t want to spend the entire voyage home stuck in here, no
matter how much awesome food there is! Let’s get this sorted!”
Peter the Ace looked at his companion. “Do you have a plan?”
Panman nodded. “Of course. And, as always, it’s
phenomenal!”
“I’m intrigued! Please explain.”
132
Panman operated the control panel on the table. The image on

the view-screen changed to show a schematic map of the ship.
Several icons faded into view, each one representing a person on
board. Panman pointed and spoke loudly to ensure he was heard over
the Cifitra’s banging. “That’s us in the main galley, and that red blob
is that metal freak.”
Peter the Ace and Sind’a Thighs nodded.
Panman continued. “As you can see, not everyone on board
is…”
A thunderous and almost deafening boom shook the galley.
Everyone at the table was thrown back into their soft leather seats.
Instinctively, Sind’a Thighs grabbed hold of the children.
Panman looked towards the galley’s door. It had bowed in
slightly, but otherwise seemed to have held. “How did that
mechanical extremist do that?!”
Before anyone could formulate a response the galley door
began to creak and groan its way open. Immediately Panman raised
his pistol and aimed at the door. Some smoke billowed in, partially
obscuring the passageway beyond. As the door finally disappeared
into the ceiling, a figure appeared at the doorway. But it was not the
ungainly bulk of Justin’s body as everyone had expected. It was far
slimmer, and far more toned.
It was Jemima Murma.
Peter the Ace applauded. “Outstanding!”
Jemima Murma bowed slightly. “Thanks! Sorry about the
mess. It was the only solution I could think of in such a short time.”
Peter the Ace shook his head. “I’m referring to your costume!
It’s remarkably bizarre, even for you! You look extraordinary!”
In extreme contrast to the long red evening dress Jemima
Murma had been wearing earlier, she now wore a shockingly alluring
and minimalist outfit. Round her neck was a wide metal ring. From
the back of the ring a thin strip of glossy black leather passed down
the middle of her back, between her buttocks and legs, and then up
through her deep cleavage to connect back to the ring. Two chains,
attached to hooks that were dangling from her pierced nipples, were
also attached to the ring. And she had shaved her head.
Jemima Murma grinned. “I made it myself. Glad you like it!”
Panman got to his feet and walked over to the galley’s doorway.
He beamed at the Blenheim’s assistant. “What you did was exactly
the plan I was thinking of! Cool!”
Peter the Ace joined Panman at the doorway. Jemima Murma
stepped to one side, allowing the two bounty hunters a clear look
outside into the devastated passageway. A five-metre stretch of the
133
passageway’s walls was scorched black, and many usually hidden

power conduits we exposed and contorted into disturbing shapes. The
smouldering remains of Justin’s heavyweight body were scattered
everywhere.
Peter the Ace spoke. “Justin’s body is a definite write-off.” He
thought for a few moments. “I wonder how that Cifitra managed to
get control of it?”
Panman shook his head in disgust. “The only way would have
been for Justin to give it up. He can control his body remotely, even
when his head is detached.”
“He willingly gave it up? That’s treachery!”
Panman nodded. “It is!”
A voice, slow and crackling, spoke. “Your cyborg is a weak-
minded idiot! It took no effort to persuade him to give his body to
me.”
Directly opposite the galley doorway, and barely visible, was
the Cifitra’s head. Blackened by the firestorm of the blast, the head
was embedded deep in an exposed and buckled bulkhead.
Peter the Ace spoke to the Cifitra. “And it took no effort for us
to destroy it and take it back from you.”
The Cifitra head warbled. “I can sense deep fear in you. You
are in despair! You are traumatized by my abilities. You are
depressed at my continued existence!”
“Your perception of my emotional state is completely wrong.”
Peter the Ace said, smiling. “I am actually extremely happy. Your
survival means I still have a first exhibit for my Mad Animated Head
gallery. I was beginning to think I’d have to put that idea on hold.”
Panman nodded. “Yeah! And your ability to live on and on
and on will mean that in centuries you’ll still be spouting inane drivel
from your display cabinet in the gallery. Visitors will be entertained
for millennia!”
The Cifitra head spoke in a slurring and distorted manner. “I
cannot be contained! No gallery can constrain my ambitions! Other
Cifitra will trace me and restore me! You are doomed!”
Panman ignored the Cifitra’s ranting and looked quizzically at
the smouldering area surrounding the head. “We could cut out this
entire section of bulkhead - it’ll need replacing anyway. It could form
the centrepiece in your gallery, allowing visitors to see precisely
where that useless Cifitra was defeated.”
The Cifitra head screamed. “I am not useless!”
Peter the Ace also ignored the Cifitra. “What a marvellous
idea! And with ominous lighting, regular bursts of despondent music,
and a surrounding moat of molten lead the effect would be
134
spectacular! I need to start work on this gallery right away.” He

turned and looked back into the galley. “Sind’a? Take the children
back to the guest quarters and see that they are heavily sedated for the
rest of the trip home.”
The lesser bounty hunter nodded. She ushered the still
blubbering children to their feet.
“Once they’re on the verge of unconsiousness, come back here
and keep an eye on that Cifitra head. I’m certain it’s quite harmless
now, but we should be careful.”
As Sind’a Thighs and the children left the galley the crazed
head screamed. “I am harmful beyond your pitiful comprehension,
bounty hunter! I am…”
With a particularly swift movement of his right hand, Panman
aimed and fired his pistol. A bright flash of white fire surrounded the
Cifitra head, silencing its rant. “Sorry, but that is one horrendously
irritating head!” Panman handed Jemima Murma his weapon.
“Watch over that head until Sind’a Thighs gets back. If it makes
another sound, blast it again.”
She nodded. “Of course. It’ll be my pleasure.”
The Cifitra head remained unusually quiet.
Peter the Ace turned to Panman. “Let’s get back to the bridge.
I need the comfort of my command chair if I’m to properly plan the
opening of the Mad Animated Head Gallery.”
The two first-class bounty hunters headed for the lift.
Panman’s communicator bleeped. He answered. “Yeah?”
“What do you want, traitor?!”
“I have made an error of judgement.”
“Too right you have! What made you give your body to that
freak?”
“The Cifitra stated that I would be fitted with a superior Cifitra
body if I complied with its request to lend it mine.”
“You’re a gullible idiot, aren’t you?!”
Justin ignored the bounty hunter’s question. “I wish to have my
body returned.”
“Too late. Jemima Murma destroyed it.”
There was a moment’s pause. “I require a new body.”
“No way!”
“Without a functioning body I am unable to perform my duties.”
“As of now you don’t have any duties! You aided a Cifitra in
its attempt to murder us and take control of this ship. A treacherous
act that cannot go unpunished! Your fate will be decided when we
return to the Palace of Amino.”
135
Panman silenced his communicator.

The two first-class bounty hunters entered the lift. Peter the
Ace operated a control. The lift closed its door and then commenced
its journey to the bridge.
Panman shook his head and frowned. “Despite his ungainly
posture, boring voice, and often infuriating manner, Justin is the best
pizza maker I’ve ever known. I can’t believe we’re going to have to
submit him for punishment. Again!”
Peter the Ace nodded. “It is indeed unfortunate. At least his
near-legendary pizza-making abilities will stand in his favour.”
“I guess.”
Peter the Ace laughed.
Panman was confused. “What’s so funny?”
Peter the Ace looked at his companion. “I have the perfect
punishment for him! I’ll recommend it to the Superior Beings as soon
as we get back.”
Panman was curious. “What punishment?”
“An exhibit in my new gallery, of course!”
Panman laughed. “Cool to the extreme!”
This lift drew to a smooth halt and the door opened.
Peter the Ace stepped out into the passageway. “Justin’s
monotonous mono-tonal droning will provide the perfect contrast to
the Cifitra’s vile over-modulated whining and boasting.”
Panman followed Peter the Ace out of the lift and on to the
bridge. “It’s amazing how things always turn out for the best!
Awesome!”
The two first-class bounty hunters sat down in their luxurious
command chairs.
Peter the Ace looked around at the now brightly lit bridge. The
main view-screen displayed an image of the subspacial entities that
flitted around the ship. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Panman looked at the view-screen. “What? Those things?”
“No.” Peter the Ace spread his arms. “This ship! Our
incredible success on every mission! Our lives!”
Panman grinned. “Yeah, we’re so cool!”
Peter the Ace nodded. “Outstandingly so! And we have so
much to look forward to!”
Panman laughed. “Yeah! There’s the opening of the Chug
restaurant at the Nypl-Dome, for starters!”
“And then opening of my Mad Animated Head Gallery, with
one, and hopefully two, prime exhibits!”
136
Panman was excited. “And a multitude of exhilarating missions,

depraved overlord eradications, and countless new and delectable
culinary delights to experience!”
Peter the Ace grinned with satisfaction. “We do indeed have
truly breath-taking lives.”
Panman beamed like an award winner. “We do! We certainly
do!”
137
Book Seven
The Kretins
of
Doctor Combobulay
Copyright  Peter Stuart Fothergill 2006
All rights reserved
138

The Kretins of Doctor Combobulay

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Bounty hunters of the Palace of Amino

Peter Stuart Fothergill

The following novels by Peter Stuart Fothergill are

Bounty Hunters of the Palace of Amino Series

Book One: Bounty Hunters of the Palace of Amino

Bounty Hunters of the Palace of Amino

Copyright  Peter Stuart Fothergill 2006

All rights reserved

The right of Peter Stuart Fothergill to be identified as the author of

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

“DEEP-SCAN OF REGION 922 COMPLETED.”

Panman spoke into his communicator. “Ace? Are we in

Peter the Ace spoke. “Panman?”

projected course indicated that everything was back on track. Panman

“He’s sobbing like a girl, so I guess I did?”

Panman checked his console. “It’s a call from the palace.

“About ten days ago Droog suffered a planet-wide disaster. An

Peter the Ace could not disagree. He nodded slowly once.

With the poise of a sure-footed chompotamus, the Blenheim altered

5 The Example Chamber

Doctor Combobulay raised her head and spoke proudly. “My

began to display statistics and finely resolved graphics and images.

that it is not of this world!” She glowered. Her voice deepened to a

plans.” She thought for a few seconds. “Despatch three Kretins.

The bounty hunter sighed. “Finally! How are your cognitive

The bounty hunter activate her helmet’s stealth communicator,

7 Two Hooded Guards

Commandant Fumbla looked a little nervous, but he kept his

8 The Sound of Moaning

After twenty minutes of interrogation Sind’a Thighs new almost

Unfortunately she did not know the true nature of Doctor

Sind’a Thighs studied the image. In a couple of kilometres, and

The other maid returned, accompanied by Commandant Fumbla.

Commandant Fumbla looked down at his data-pad. “Dungot

10 A Blackened Room of Soot

Sind’a Thighs returned dressed in a baggy blue uniform. She had

A moment of shock filled the bounty hunter’s mind. “Me?

image on the display screen changed. “Our objectives are simple:

12 Some Kind of Greenish Oil

So far Sind’a Thighs’ whole experience on Droog had been quite

With her on the platform were six of the highest-ranking officers in

Standing on narrow platforms on either side of the device were

“Then, as a reward for your excellence, let me show you the

stability and ensure a relatively smooth entry into Droog’s atmosphere.

The Blenheim shuddered slightly as the friction of the thickening

Panman had chuckled as he had watched the three detonations.

14 Unevenly Plump Torso

Wearing a resplendent blue fur cloak, Sind’a Thighs stepped onto a

Officer Batcheak was visibly shaken by the commandant’s tone.

Commandant Fumbla steadied himself on the railings of his

15 Yellow Frogs Wearing Sandals

his sealed environment suit. He looked around and grinned. His

pleasing as it used to be. Have you been letting yourself go, or

Sind’a Thighs beamed. “I was rather pleased with myself.”

A second later, a flaming wall of chaos shattered the calm.

16 Dirty Old Transistor Radio

Sind’a Thighs spoke to him. “Commandant. I am here with the

“Ha! Your obvious attempt to turn me into a paranoid mound

Panman grinned. “No, definitely negligible. And because I am

into a ball of white flame. A shock wave thundered through the

17 Dark and Brooding

“BATTLE MODE ACTIVATED. INTERNAL

that the machines were turning in an attempt to realign their weapons,

“I am a first-class bounty hunter. I have authority, vested in me