Zod

'Over someone else's dead body!' Lady X screamed, sending a ruby encrusted goblet trundling across the bountiful banquet table as its blood like contents cascaded forth.

'My dear,' replied Zod in calming tones that achieved the opposite, 'alive or dead, doesn't really matter; regardless, you shall be my wife.'

'Then dead, it shall be.'

The two eyed each other, one with unconcealed hatred, the other, with ungentlemanly thoughts, over a feast that cost more than the average gross expenditure for a small planet.

'This,' she gestured to the heaving table of alien fruits and cannibalistic meats, 'is disgusting! You exist in such sinful decadence, whilst others, the majority, dwell in poverty so abject, they couldn't even afford to learn words like poverty.'

'That's democracy for you,' Zod grinned, baring his gold caps, 'good isn't it.'

Lady X fumed and glared at the other diners. Only Oda Kropp stared back, left hand twitching slightly in its desire for a weapon. The others, a variety of seasoned space slugs, fed their girth and did their best to ignore the confrontation. Arguments with Zod, they knew, had a rather low success rate, unless of course having your head used as a football was the original aim.

'This isn't a democracy; this is dictatorship.'

Zod thought this one over for a few nanoseconds, 'It all really depends which side of the mobius strip your on, my dear. Besides, the people adore me, they keep voting me in.'

'You don't have elections to be voted in.'

'True, but I feel that if we did have elections, they would vote me in anyway.' Zod smiled a ripe cheesy grin, 'so, I just cut out the tedious voting bit and everybody's happy. Couldn't be any better.'

'Perhaps life wouldn't be so rosy, if the population knew what I know…'

'And what, pray tell, my vacuous beauty, what pretty little things do you know? Hmm?'

'I know the Empire hasn't had a change of ruler for the past one hundred thousand years.'

All façade of humour gone, his face whitened even more than usual. Zod, ushered to a poised slave for the table to be cleared. He stood abruptly and spoke in a grandiose manner, 'my fine guests, I trust you enjoyed this small trifling meal,' furious nodding, 'but know, my betrothed and I, feel he need for some… air. Shall we go my dear? A stroll in the garden perhaps?'

His chair was softly eased back by Mercurius, who forbidden to partake in the feasting, was resigned to watch from the shadows, immersed in dark thoughts; and bandages.

'My dear,' Zod held out his be-jeweled hand.

Lady X looked at it with sneering contempt. Ignored it and promptly strutted passed him. Quickening his pace to match hers and gripping her arm so forcefully, she winced with pain, Zod directed the unwilling guest to a

side room; and towards a strangely glowing oval portal set into, well nothing. It just seemed to float there, sticking its proverbial tongue out at the laws of physics.

'Come my dear, there is nothing to fear.'

'You first then Zod.'

Zod smiled and put one boot through the swirling gold mist, and then, taking her hand forcefully, pulled her through. There was a wrenching stomach emptying sensation, small stars spun past, their intense pin-prick lights cycling through a neon rainbow of colours and then, the palace and its damp climes were gone. The stuffy heat hurled her backwards into Zod's waiting arms, as the overwhelming burning air of a quad-star sky assailed her lungs. She gagged and clawed at her throat, mind spinning, overheating. Zod clicked his fingers, the heat abated slightly and a cool breeze picked itself up. Desperate draughts of chill air poured into her several times before her eyes and head cleared and she was able to see perhaps the most beautiful sight she ever would. They stood atop a small plateau perched on a towering behemoth of rock that plunged near vertical through mist heavy clouds to a water green valley of lush tropics. Above, it continued, scaling the sky and narrowing to a spike in the darkening heights of a blue-violet sky, where no clouds lived. Tropical plants curled by their feet, in trumpet stems of scented whites and pinks, that, meandering to the plateau's edge, gave a hint of the wonders that lay far, far below. Rolling clouds of mist drifted, and between the mighty shoots of foliage, thrust swinging trunks that wailed with the multitudinous and hollow cries of so many unknowable creatures. Monstrous winged entities swooped through the heavens, gliding on the rising jungle steam. They dived between breaks in the smothering tree span, and played with the attentions of a wandering predator, its twin jaws slicing the air and slavering roar ripping the tranquillity.

Not beauty, she thought, just mind overwhelming impressiveness.

Zod caught the look in her eye, the sudden silence.

'My dear, forget your past, it would have amounted to nothing anyway. Stay with me. Share in this,' waving his hands about the boundless scene, '… this fathomless beauty,.'

She was stunned. For a girl that spent the worst part of her life in the confines of really artificial environments, she had never been able to appreciate the extents that nature could provide. Other than the varied and colourful types of mould that lined the walls of her youth. 'It's amazing…'

Zod, solemn for once, replied, 'Yes, my dear; my love. It is.' Unseen, at least by Lady X, Zod winked at some other watchman in the rocks above. Moments later, a majestic Lijoh'lah, with curling onyx horns and striped-ochre pelt sprung into view, bounded across the treacherous scree and came to a proud bellowing stop before the mesmerised woman. Its soft amber eyes bore into hers so briefly, before its head tossed and it continued, bounding erratically ever downwards. Before long, all that could be seen were the occasional flash of the fur of its white behind.

'My love, there is more…'

Zod gently lead her towards a telescopic device that was suddenly there.

'Please, my soon-to-be-immortal beloved, look through this primitive toy.'

Seeing a softness in his eyes, she had not thought possible, Lady X stooped and applied her delicate eye to the lens. Her eye focused on what could only be described as a mountain composed of pure crystal, and upon which an army of sculptors worked, etching the vast stone to a perfect likeness of her estimated naked body.

'' staggering backwards, 'You almost had me there Zod,' laughing, tears staining her face.

Zod's eyes widened, 'No, no my dear, forgive me, if the mountain offends,' he gestured. There followed distant cut short screams, an explosion and the tinkling of something really big shattering, 'anything, anything, you desire is yours.'

Edging dangerously close to the rocky edge, she screamed hysterically, 'then freedom, give my people freedom!'

Zod thought it over, taking a step closer, 'Well… okay, but only a few of them.'

'No! All of them!'

'Just your planet then-okay?'

'No! Everyone, all slaves, all must be free!' crooning her neck she gazed at the wuthering drop below.

Sadness swept across Zod's face, 'My dear, it is the one thing perhaps, I cannot do…'

'Then we can never be, as you want, one.'

'Perhaps you would be mine anyway?' snarled Zod, taking a further step closer, his clawed hand reaching towards her.

'I'll jump!'

'No, no, you won't jump, you wouldn't dare.'

'I would!' she faltered.

Zod analysed her, 'Okay, so you would jump, but it would be such a waste!' Pleading now, the snarl of before forgotten, 'Please my dear, one last time, join me; let's have lots of little Zodlet's together.'

'Aargh!' she cried as her body plummeted over the edge, accelerating in a slow arc and then crashing through the upper level branches, and into the dark unseen undergrowth beyond. She tensed her eyes shut and waited for the impact as the whistling air buffeted her body.

'No!' wailed Zod, who scrabbled across the loose stones and desperately reached out for the falling figure, 'forgive me…'

Private Ponce scuttled across the flight deck and waved a three tiered salute, 'Sar, satellite probes report massive nuclear devastation on the surface.'

Plesiosaur wheeled about on his feet, 'What!'

'Nuclear attack sir. Someone hit Klipo big. Both known bases have been thoroughly obliterated…'

Turning to the viewport, Plesiosaur requested magnification on the green-blue orb suspended far beneath them, or again, possibly above.

'Isolate Australasia base and zoom.'

Frantic clicking sounds, as the ship's computer, eager to please presented the wrong base. No one noticed though, and the same computer went on to enjoy a long life of active service, despite this mistake that plagued its conscience. Eventually, two hundred years later, guilt got the better and it self-destructed one morning when one too many showers were turned on. The view scene sank through the upper ionosphere, through scattering clouds, across an expansive mountain range, past a few large craters…

'Stop!'

The scene drifted backwards.

'Wasn't that the base? It's all black…'

'Sar, what your seeing are clouds of heavy debris, lodged over the multiple impact sites. Beginning to clear now though.'

'Any life signatures? Even scrawly badly written ones?' Private Ponce tapped an obscure set of buttons³¹, and a variety of pulsing red dots filled a concentrated section of the display.

'Hmm… Nuclear devastation you said?'

'Sar.' 'The who the bleep are they?'

'Dead people sar?'

'They don't look very bleeping dead to me private! They're either survivalists or the bleepers that did this in the first place.'

'What now sar?'

Plesiosaur consulted the endless encyclopaedia on military knowledge that he had stored in the dusty annals of his mind. They all suggested one thing.

'Attack!' he cried across the as-good-as-empty battle deck. Visions of glory swam before his eyes, he could see it now, 'The Galactic Times,' 'Plesiosaur sniffs out invaders!' or 'Plesiosaur does it again (when was the last time?)'

Turning to young private Ponce who was practically quivering with anticipation, 'by Zod private, we'll teach them they can't get away with this, commence landing party, activate Z-force.' There was an ever so slight, completely awkward and terminal pause.

'Erm, they're dead sir, remember you made them sit in a vacuum to toughen them up.'

Plesiosaur stroked his considerably bushy beard, 'Good lads, certainly hardened them anyway, eh?'

'Indeed sir, stiff.'

'Y-force then? Bring on Y-force.'

'Erm, dead also sir. You made them shoot each other as a sign of solidarity.'

'Well, they did, didn't they? Smashing lads. Dare I ask about X- force?'

'X-force is fine sir.'

'Well then?'

'Budget cuts?'

'Budget? We're the bleeping military. We don't need a budget, we just do! Is there anyone else?'

'Well, there's erm, and of course, an-'

'Ponce, do you mean to tell me, we've came with a hundred warships, the Empires finest in kick-butt technology and it just so happens that someone overlooked the requirement of a few thousand troops.'

Ponce went all silent, his face reddening.

'How many troops do we actually have Ponce?'

'Troops sir?'

'Troops! Troops! You know, green buggers with guns and things. Do a bit of shooting and all that, generally used in the military, you must have heard of them, surely!'

'Can't says I have sir, I graduated in astronomy sar.'

'Astronomy? Then what the bleepard you doing on my ship?'

'Thought it was a survey ship sar!'

'Holy bleepity bleep, didn't the guns give it away?'

'Thought they were for splitting exotic nebulae sar.' Plesiosaur grabbed the much lesser figure by the lapels and heaved him to, 'just how many people are there in out fleet private?'

'Including yourself and I sar?'

'I get the feeling you're about to say just us private. Please, disappoint me…'

Private Ponce tried to scuttle a step backwards.

'There is only the two of us isn't there ' boomed Plesiosaur. The floor shook violently as the 200lb+ bulk of Captain Plesiosaur took a veritable tantrum, 'Why? Why?' he cried repeatedly. Several minutes passed and the captain regained sufficient composure to ask a further question, 'Then who, or what mans³², assuming of course, they are manned, controls the other ships?'

'No one sar!'

'Not even droids?'

'Nope… sar.'

For the first time, Plesiosaur noticed the unusual quietness about his own ship. Come to think of it, he thought, I've never actually seen anyone.

'Why?' Plesiosaur yelled.

'Thought it would be more economical sir. Meant we could buy more telescopes.'

'Economibleepincal?'

Captain Plesiosaur couldn't take much more, he sank to the floor and gibbered uncontrollably.

'So, are we still going to attack then sar?'

The only reply was the sudden whish, similar to that of a large fist travelling at speed through the air.

'Spiff, look at the size of that fleet! We're done for!' whimpered Yeldarb, panning the controls across the vast formation of deadly looking vessels, orbiting the planet like a congregation of combat knives.

'Not necessarily so my friend. I reckon that by some unlikely plot occurrence, we can not only defend against probable attack, but possible commandeer their fleet for our own'

'And how exactly do you propose to do that… man?' taunted Rafe, strapped into a cube course of 'The Advanced Guitar.'

'Hmm… Sknarf?'

Spiff turned to face the angelic features of Sknarf and found them to be fixed on his. Blushing, and coughing with the lung capacity of a mouse, she averted her gaze, 'Sorry? I was… day dreaming.'

'Sknarf, can you think of any way to fend off the orbiting attack squadron?'

'Try peace man! Worked for Lemon.'

'Lemon?' asked Sknarf.

Rafe pointed to the pile of rather damaged history cubes he'd just finished.

'So what would Lemon do then?' asked Spiff.

'Invade Poland?' looking puzzled, 'hang on, could have meant someone called Levis³³, in fact, I haven't a buggering clue as to what I'm on about. Still, try peace man, that's what Lemmon and Bingo Bar would have done!'

'Wise words from the historian,' replied Yeldarb coldly.

'Haven't seen you give any good ideas man.' Sknarf piped up, 'I've got an idea!'

'A better one?'

'Nope,' she piped down.

'Sar! Wake up sar,' wiping the drool from Plesiosaurs face, 'We've got contact.'

'C…contact?'

'Sar, someone from the planet below, wants to surrender, said if we pick him up, we'll discuss terms.'

'Tennis eh?'

'No sar, you're confusing the 'r' and 'm'-terms!'

'Terms sar!'

'What's he called then, this surrenderererer?'

'Rodger sar!'

The constrictor class shuttle bounced off the atmosphere one final time and then plunged headlong through the intense heat and towards the rendezvous point.

Plesiosaur surveyed the flames lapping about the vessel, 'It's getting awfully warm in here, private.'

'Sorry sar,' turning down the thermostat, 'first time I've flown a shuttle sar.'

'Oh.'

Plesiosaur reclined and let his mind drift.

'What!' he jumped up, and grabbed at the controls, 'we're in a suicidal dive man. Are you mad? No, don't answer that.' Bursting to clear panoramic skies, the continents rolled below as the shuttle spinning almost quickly enough to generate it's own gravity, beckoned to reach the ground by the quickest means possible.

The veins of Plesiosaurs neck were swollen like well fed worms, in possible the most disgusting analogy ever used, as he strained at the controls.

'Help me man, pull the lever back you bleepard' Ponce busied himself with sprawling on the floor and making the odd feeble retching sound. Gradually, the spinning slowed, and the craft began to flatten out, as the ground, at a blurring breakneck speed approached.

'Aargh! We're going to crash!' Accepting the inevitable, both men in a moment of future regrettably weakness, grabbed each other in a panic stricken cuddle.

'Aaargh!' they cried.

'Aaaaargh!'

'Going awfully fast to land isn't it?' said Spiff, as he watched the very approaching flaming streak that presumably was the envoy of the Empire, 'Hmm, must be a damn good pilot!'

'Damn' he repeated as the craft rocketed even closer, and then, in a flash of colossal expended energy, slammed into the ground, yards beneath the steady legs of Rodger, who it has to be said, didn't budge. This was mainly because he was turned off; he was safer that way. Plumes of smoke piled out from the craft, and with little ceremony, a side door was flung open. Two figures leapt out of the burning assemblage and onto the soil. The larger began unceremoniously kicking the other who, despite his pleas of 'lack of training,' really got a well deserved seeing to.

Sknarf crept forward, rotated Rodger's dial past the danger zone and towards 'ON.' She scurried back to the protective confines of their bomb proof shelter; and watched; and perhaps obviously, waited.

'Take that, and this… and that…' Plesiosaur took a few quick breaths, he wasn't feeling the man he used to, but, recreation later, he thought, and resumed kicking Ponce, 'and this… and tha-'

A shadow blocked the sun. A very big shadow; or possibly a medium sized one and a small sun. Still it was one that gave all the signs it probably wouldn't go away until it had done something really nasty.

'To your feet private, it's this Rodger bugger I think,' hauling the dazed private up and brotherly hugging him in a 'been in the army too long manner.'

Plesiosaur peered at the silhouette, seems a bit…square.

'HELLO. I'M RODGER.'

Doesn't sound like a…

'HELLO. I'M RODGER.'

'Yes, hello, my name is Captain Plesiosaur and this poor excuse for a rambling cocktail of degenerative D.N.A, is Priv-'

'HELLO. I'M RODGER.'

'Yes, I think I've ascertained that. Now about this messy nuclear devastation business, not very polite you know.'

Rodger powered up his grav-repulsors and gained even more height on Captain Plesiosaur.

He hovered closer.

'HELLO. I'M RODGER.'

'Yes, I believe you said that, bit of a language barrier here, eh?'

'HELLO. I'M RODGER.'

'Look, just shut the bleep up will you. I know your Rodger.'

A spinning disc like implement whirred into action as Rodger closed in for the hand shake.

'Erm, lets not be hasty now, eh old chap? So you say your name is erm-sorry, didn't quite catch your name.'

The whining became a buzz, and the buzz, the shrieking wail of a chain saw.

'HELLO. I'M RODGER.'

'That's it… Rodger, interesting name that…'

Plesiosaur stepped backwards, lost his footing on Ponce and fell over. Rodger bore down upon him.

'Help' whimpered Plesiosaur. In a terrifyingly quick movement, Rodgers arm plunged down and towards Plesiosaurs face. Too late, the hatch to the shelter exploded open, ejecting Spiff and co.

'Quick Spiff, the button, press the button!'

In a surgical slice, Rodger's blade neatly trimmed Plesiosaurs beard to within a super-string of his skin, and then promptly proceeded to give him a closer shave than Iruvian strip wax.

'Aaaar-!' Plesiosaur cried out throughout the ordeal, then finding his bodily fluids still in tact, continued '-rrrggghhh.'

'GOODBYE, I'M RODGER. HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR TRIM. ANYTHING ELSE SIR.'

Plesiosaur eased his eyes open.

What the bleep, he thought. And then he noticed how cold it was now. His hand shot to a baby smooth forehead and desperately searched for the slightest follicle plumage; there were none.

'You mad bleeper, you've cut all me hair off!' he cried, hopping up and projecting a mighty kick towards the demon gleaming barber.

A loud metallic klunk rang out, followed by that howling sound often heard after dropping an Iron on ones foot.

'Captain,' boomed an overly loud young man that Plesiosaur, before even the 'a' had decided he didn't like, said, 'let's talk treaties.'

'Sir,' said the figure, a steady torrent of secretion from the cell above, dripping on to his shoulder, 'I feel I must apologise for this most recent turn of events.'

The other sighed, thought about sitting down, but then recalled, of course, there was only space to stand, in this incredibly cramped vertical coffin that passed for a dungeon cell. Flung in what was hopefully the very worst Mount Spiky had to offer, they would be forgotten and left till their very flesh crawled off; although, in the ghoul's case, this had happened long ago.

Mr Sanguinario viewed the cracked rock ceiling, alive with little things; Mount Spiky's only flourishing indigenous life. Looking to the floor, was a different matter; as they had been left in the deepest, darkest, lowest cell available, and it appeared, quite possibly, that this was the very lowest level; and as such, the original blind and obviously demented orchestrator of this monstrous architecture had neglected to implement-a rock floor.

It will take years, he thought.

The ghoul caught the obvious floor staring intent; 'Dig sir?'

A slow nod was the only reply.

The two figures squelched down as far as they could maneuver and began clawing at the soft dirt.

Zod stared at the quite dead form of Lady X; beautiful, even now; possibly more so, for now at least, she was quiet.

'There was nothing you could have done,' clichéd Mercurius in a slithery manner; a queen would not have helped his cause, as extending Zod's lineage was not the path to the throne.

Zod ignored him, thoughts of what may have been flooding his mind; was that love? He asked himself. Nope, probably not, replied his selfless part, which dominated his mind, good for a quick thought!

No, no, his overwhelmed caring mind retorted, we could have ruled the stars… if only. Mercurius, unsteady at the silence, decided to pitch in another cliché.

'It's no good to dwell on the past sire, forget her. You need to move on.'

'She's only been gone five bleeping hours you snivelling cretin!' Clutching for the nearest weapon, Zod lunged at Mercurius with a collection of grapes, loosely assimilated in to what could be called, a bunch.

'Flug!' screamed the parasite and slithered forth from the room; he new better than to hang around when one of Zod's moods took swing; often, with an axe and a handy nursery.

Chest heaving with fury, Zod returned to his grief.

Stepping forward and, de-gloving one hand, he softly stroked the fading pink of her cheek, and, stroking the hair, felt a sadness, never before encountered in a billion executions.

A thought toyed at the corner of his mind, and then in panic, he realised, there's still time!

Sprinting from the clinical white of the medical room, to the psychedelic hues of his private chamber, Zod, upon dismissing his harem, that permanently awaited his presence, sought about dislodging a particular stone. It was not an unusual stone, indeed, it looked just like all the others that composed the wall. After a frustrated moment, Zod discovered it was just like all the others, and moved onto the correct one.

Behind, was a tome, of considerable age; yet it was clean and obviously accessed frequently. Zod took the volume carefully in his hands and watched the pages shift about restlessly under his gaze. Checking once more, he ensured that no prying eyes had witnessed the event, and ran with more haste than befits an Emperor, back to his beloved. A barely noticeable pair of eyeballs removed themselves from a portrait hanging in the opposing corner.

'So,' said Sknarf, with that authority a beautiful, intelligent woman always commands, 'you wish to enter negotiations with my people over surrender terms?'

'Indeed Ma'am,' replied Plesiosaur assuredly.

'And if we don't surrender?' she took a long leisurely swig from a ration tumbler, grimaced at the taste and fixed her eyes steadily on the sweating man. He's lying, she thought.

'We'll… in the fullness of time, we will err…'

The room waited.

'Do nothing whatsoever?'

'No Ma'am, I am an ambassador of the Empire, and may I remind you, we are a ruthless regime. Dedicated to crushing even the merest uprising. Why, once on Firdu Six, a peasant suggested that they eat the local potatoes and not the imported Empire sanctioned one³⁴. Well, we crushed 'em of course-completely. Were nasty bleepers. Be scared, be very, very…'

'Hmm,' she smiled, and reclined on her stretchy chair.

'And this…' he looked around the rough assemblage of crates and food rations, '-bunker won't save you this time y'know!'

'Hmm.'

'It won't!'

'I believe you, honest I do.'

Plesiosaur seethed, did they know?

'Tell you what,' Sknarf leaned forward, conspiratorially, 'have you ever thought, to hell with the all powerful Empire…' flashing her pretty smile, 'join the underdogs,' closer now, faces nearly touching and in a whisper, 'join us.'

'Join you…' he stuttered, 'a rebellion?'

Sknarf smiled sweetly, 'we need your help, a military genius,' gently stroking his hand, 'your fleet, you could be a hero.'

'He could be nothing, more likely,' whispered Yeldarb under his breath.

The word rang in Plesiosaurs mind, louder and louder 'Could.' Visions of medals pinned to his chest, no, to his jacket, knee-deep in ticker-tape parades, small children collecting trump cards with his picture…

'Hero?'

'Yes, and when we're in power, you will be an…' searching her military vocabulary for someone really good, '… an admiral?'

'Admiral!'

Sknarf smiled sickly sweet and watched the glazing over process.

'I'll do it!' Plesiosaur jumped to his feet, 'Bleep the Empire, I'm with you my dear!'

'And us man,' interjected Rafe.

Plesiosaur looked at the long-haired thing with distaste.

'Yeah, and you.'

Sknarf smiled, 'thank you… is there a first name we can call you Captain?'

Captain Plesiosaur thought back across all the names he'd acquired in the past, none very nice.

'Plesiosaur?'

'You first name's Plesiosaur?'

'Yes.'

'Plesiosaur Plesiosaur.'

'Yes, my parents were sick twisted individuals.'

'Plesiosaur it is… Admiral Plesiosaur Plesiosaur.'

Plesiosaur looked stunned, but happy.

There was a loud bang and the door blew open, hinges and lock flying asunder from Spiff's shoulder charge.

'These door things, just no good y'know,' said Spiff, striding into the room, 'Well, Captain-'

'Admiral,' Plesiosaur replied curtly.

'Adminral…welcome to the club old chap,' said Spiff, handing him a long wooden baton and slapping Plesiosaur on the back so hard, he nose-dived into the desk.

'Thanksh,' came the squashed reply.

Lady X drifted through a soothing sky and watched the universe in its multitudinous stars unfurl beneath her. Glorious forms of ether spun about her, wings and faces of innocent beauty; she didn't recognise them, so who were they? Actually, she wondered, where am I? Higher she drifted, and faster, now the galaxies clustered and were becoming one, but still, the transparent swirling entities were, presumably, keeping her company. And then, everything stopped, the beautiful beings halted their melancholy singing, looks of horror crossed their faces and they darted off; as she began to fall. With a flash, like a kick in the head from something that kicks people in the head for a profession, she was back. Her eyes shot open, breath cascaded into her dry lungs and with a jolt she rolled off something, to fall into the arms of… someone.

'My love, my now immortal love, you are back.' Recognising the voice, Lady X issued a long soulless groan that evolved into a shriek.

'I should be dead,' she croaked, '… I was dead-what have you done!'

Zod closed the pages of the arcane book and placed it to one side, which promptly, found itself in the hands of an unseen other who siphoned it away.

'You will never die again, my love, you are like the stars, never- ending.'

'But stars die, after a few billion years?'

'True, and you will be there to see them. Death is cheated.'

Lady X stood up, with unexpected ease, and, as a lifelong non- swearer screamed, 'what the bleep have you done to me!'

Zod, patience wearing thinner than his morals said, 'look, let's cut the melodrama, I've brought you back from the dead and now, your immortal. Comprende?'

She eyed him with utter contempt.

'You git.'

'So,' grunted Spiff, filling his face with a great handful from the endless stores they'd uncovered in the bunker, 'Plesiosaur, what wash you original mission then?'

Plesiosaur carefully avoiding each onslaught of spittle, replied seriously, 'Well… Spiff, basically, invade, pillage and destroy, in more or less any order, invading obviously being a bit of a pre-requisite, can't pillage your own ship now can you, eh?'

'Indeed,' interjected Sknarf, 'but Admiral Plesiosaur, how exactly where you going to achieve any of that, I mean, well,' leaning closer, 'let's face it, you haven't got much of a crew, have you?' Plesiosaur caught this thought, rolled it about into a long sausage shape and then tossed it away, 'So, nice weather your having.'

'Nuclear fallout, nice weather?' observed Rafe through a pair of round yellow tinted spectacles, who was, it has to be said, was taking, if not a turn for the worse, then probably the worst. Successive memory crystals from an era³⁴ known as the sixties were beginning to take their toll on his mental state, his flapping sideburns and his clothing, a large daisy, emblazoned across something he called a P-shirt, which, certainly smelled like it.

'If you like that sort of thing, yes, fallout has certain health properties.'

'Yeah, bad ones,' replied Yeldarb, 'did you know the average life expectancy at ground zero after the blast, assuming an intake of a few hundred Z rads effectively means that we should all be dead.' He breathed a sigh of relief, 'thank heavens for plot flaws.'

'You should work for the government Plesiosaur,' said Rafe, 'sorry, I forgot, you do-or did.' Sknarf coughed and rephrased her rapidly being forgotten question, 'Plesiosaur, your ships aren't exactly crowded are they? We know, we scanned all one hundred and five ships. They're all well… empty.'

'What!' exclaimed Plesiosaur, faking surprise badly, 'when did that happen?'

'That's what we'd like you to tell us, and also, did this in any small way, flavour your decision to defect.'

'Not a bit, not even a small one.'

'So, the fact that you have a fleet of completely unmanned heavily armed ships in orbit, didn't waver your opinion in the slightest?' Plesiosaurs forehead frowned at her.

'Look,' spoke a smartly dressed young man who up until this point had been doing a fairly good job of Plesiosaurs eager puppy, 'it's all my fault, I sort of misplaced the forms for ordering the crew.' His head sunk to look at his over-shiny boots that mockingly stared back at him.

'Well, lets put it this way,' said Spiff between munches, 'you need a crew for a hundred ships, and we can supply the bodies.'

'Bodies?'

'Alive ones, of course.'

'So, you'll give me a crew?'

'Absolutely. Well, not really a crew. They might need a bit of training first.'

'And then I can get on with invading you, yes?'

'Certainl-'

'Ha! Almost got us there eh!' exclaimed Sknarf, 'You joined us remember.'

'Oh, so I did, just checking,' gazing to the ceiling and aside, 'how could I forget. I do apologise. So, you give me a crew, and then what?'

'You train them up, and then, we,' Sknarf looked about the crowded table, eventually focusing on Plesiosaur, 'all of us, kick Zod's proverbial, but hopefully literal posterior if not out of this dimension, then at least half way to the next galaxy.' Plesiosaur looked across the anticipating faces, 'Fair enough. Anything else while your at it, I do have a few organs I probably don't require?'

Spiff piped up, 'Well, we do have a ship of our own that needs a bit of repairs done to it.'

Plesiosaur sighed resignedly, 'I'll get my men… man onto it.' 'But I'm an astrono-'

Spiff was midway through his second ten hour channel flick, eyes just beginning to glaze over and brain seeping out from his agape mouth in transfixed globs of drool, when he found it, or rather, her. And nothing would ever be the same again.

Nothing-but-the-truth-Norman had passed the desk over to his able chested and scarlet bloused cohort, Honest Hannah, who, with blond-gold dreadlocks and a tan from the chemical burns ward, reported the days bountiful events. The slot was called, 'The Galaxies Most Unwanted,' and dealt with all manner of vile scum and villainy, from subjects as diverse as the phantom happy whistler of Garangu Three to the Space Smuggler selling deep frozen manure as hi-grade organic chocolate, and, eventually, to Lady X-fact or fiction?:

'After the recent spate of failed attacks, only ever in the most densely populated public places,' wiggling her chest at the camera, 'a long deserved bounty has been placed on the head and non-essential body of the unknown, known only as… Lady X-' A silhouette of someone vaguely humanoid in shape appeared on the screen, '-demagogue of a small lunatic fringe that, amongst its broadcastable aims, demands mandatory enslavement for children under five. Shocking indeed, especially considering such law is currently only optional. So, Lady X, if your watching, out there in your secret hideout on Dendritus-oops, hope there aren't any BOUNTY HUNTERS out there,' , bit more chest wobbling, 'then remember,' to the chorused jeer of a suddenly wakened studio audience, 'YOU ARE THE GALAXIES MOST UNWANTED!'

'Holy bleep!' spurted Spiff, swinging his boots from the console, and spurting his protein drink all across it. He was shocked and… shocked; a man of few emotions, but intense ones at that.

He tapped his communicator watch, 'where's Sknarf?' he barked at it.

'PEACE MAN. KEEP COOL. CONTACTING…' the device trilled back.

I should have known better than to let Rafe program these things, he groaned.

'I'm not going to wear that!' bellowed Lady X, hurling the aforementioned object limply to the far corner of her towering prison domicile.

A small gun-metal grey robot scurried from a mouse-hole, grabbed the diminutive lace garment and fled as quickly as it arrived through a corresponding hole on the opposite wall, to which a overly well rounded woman resounded after in an attempt to prevent the theft.

'Darn sufferin' bot's³⁵, we gonna gedit now missy, that wis one of Zod's favorit's!'

Lady X fumed and one could almost imagine the formation of storm clouds above her head with little yellow spikes of lightning.

'I will not wear that, and I will not marry that vile undead monster.' Deirdre, a woman who had spent most of her life in a mixture of squalor and isolation due to her ridiculously sounding name, replied thus,

'Dearie me, it seems to me, life can be a lot worse than jus being undead.

E's rich, me dear, and ever-so dashing-'

'He looks like a bronzed skeleton with gold teeth!' she retorted.

'You gotta take what you get in this life, me dear!'

'But I've had my life, the animal brought me back!'

'Beggers can't be choosers.' Deirdre had an almost infinite selection of such phrases, her favourite being, 'you'll 'ave yer eye out with that.³⁶'

Before she could deliver a suitable retort, Lady X felt the merest of drafts and spun to see the sneering form of Mercurius, last name unknown and quite frankly, she didn't care for the first one much either.

'I see the… attire does not suit our rebellious little friend? Perhaps some camouflage gear would be more to your liking?' Deirdre stomped forwards and wagged a muscular finger at him, 'see hear you, you… rat, this 'ere's the masters betrothed, jus' you leave 'er be.'

Distracted, Mercurius waved his hand.

Deirdre vanished into the vapours of her origins.

Lady X staggered backwards, 'What the?'

'What, indeed!' stepping closer, penning her against a cherub decorated fountain, set in a gurgling corner.

'You, my dear,' stroking her cheek, 'had better learn to appreciate me also, for soon, soon, I will be the one giving orders around here!' He grinned, a yellow mish-mash of teeth that jutted out in Brownian angles.

'Mark my words,' he spoke softly.

'With a chainsaw hopefully,' spat Lady X, and with one deft motion, brought her knee to those soft unprotected areas taught about on women's Karate evenings.

'Gnnnfff!'

Mercurius' face went through various shades of scarlet, eyeballs bulged, and he slumped to the floor in selfless pain.

'Come near me again,' hissed Lady X, 'and you'll lose a lot more than that. Not to imply, you had a lot to lose.' Reaching down and with as little body contact as possible, she began searching his pockets, and produced exactly what she wanted. Taking the zap-stick, she swung and smashed Mercurius on the back of his head. Twice.

He slumped forward, banged off the fountain and groaned to the floor.

Lady X smiled, and turned to the door, only to find a certain personage watching.

Spiff slipped out of the shadows noisily and found her mulling over a Cosmosipolitan article, 'How To Get That Man,' which was hurriedly flipped over to reveal the ubiquitous star chart which she studied with zeal.

She coughed nervously, 'Spiff! What a surprise! I never saw you… standing there… in the darkness. What brings you to the…' looking about the dusty collection of magazine boxes, 'war room?' she suggested, hoping to have it left at that.

'War room?' he asked, her piercing look told him not to enquire further.

'Well? What do you want!' she spoke crossly. Spiff unfurled the artist's impression he'd downloaded from the

'news line' and laid it before her, holding down the edges.

'It's a woman, so?'

'We've got to rescue her!'

Sknarf surveyed the silhouetted features and obviously exaggerated body contours that would have turned the head of a decapitated man.

'Why?' she said casually, nonchalantly deforming the picture with her nails.

'She's the leader of an infamous revolution, and has a bounty on her head-and the whole galaxy knows where she is!' he pleaded. This isn't like Spiff at all, she thought, showing an interest in the opposite gender.

'If the whole galaxy knows where she is, then how are we going to get there first,' searching for an excuse, 'we've got an attack to plan, and all this dust to clean!'

Dust doesn't need cleaning, does it? she thought, I'm sounding so stupid.

Spiff, softly, looked into her eyes, 'We have Deep Chima, it has to be the quickest thing in this galaxy! If not… I'll consume my shorts!'

'Spiff,' she reprimanded, 'were did you pick up a phrase like that- your shorts?'

'Sorry, been channel flicking too much. Anyway, can we?' Spiff began bobbing up and down, excitedly repeating, 'can we? Can we?'

Sknarf, in a moment of completely missed drama, flicked her head and folding her arms, tossing those long black curls, with tearful voice, 'if you must go and retrieve her then go!'

'Ok, thanks,' Spiff spun on his heels and merrily bounded out of the room.

Sknarf heard the door slam, the patter of heels followed by cries of excitement to get the ship ready.

She sighed. Her face drooped. Then, with determination, 'If he thinks he's going by himself, then he's got another thing coming-me!' and marched out from her dusty recluse.

Zod clapped heartily, 'Bravo! Bravo!' he chimed and stepping forward, took Lady X's hand with charm, which she whipped away.

'I don't know what he said my dear, but I'm sure it was most worthy of such action. Quite commendable.' Lady X stared at him and subtly, secured the zap-stick in the soft folds of her waist band. Zod noticed the manoeuvre, but chose to smilingly ignore it.

'My dear,' bowing low, 'your guests await.'

'Guests?'

'Yes, my love, unfortunately, I didn't tell you upon your… stressful arrival, I have arranged a ball in your honour, something I think you will find quite acceptable.'

'A ball?'

'Ah you misunderstand!' Grinning, 'A dance, a social gathering of the elite.'

'Sounds fascinating,' she said dryly.

He paused, and eyed her slowly from her soft olive-satin shoes, to the emerald green gown to the earrings, the largest flawless emeralds ever found, and suspend by their own gravity to reduce the weight burden on her little ears.

'Truly, you are… breathtaking, If I had any need for breathing that is!' he laughed raucously, tossing back his mane of dark hair. Lady X eyed him suspiciously.

'Just a little in-undead joke!'

A calmness she had never seen before, and a depth of emotion she thought beyond the shallow pool of Zod washed over his features. The struggle within her was heart rending, and continually, though she fought it, she was beginning to like Zod.

'Please, my love, if you will…'

For the first time, slowly, she raised her hand and offered it to him.

Zod beamed, the light glittering of his golden smile.

Deep Chima roared into life, water-colour floods pouring across her surface as the repairs, finally, were complete. Yeldarb surveyed the small bruises remaining on the surface.

'What do you think?' he asked Rafe. 'Looks good man, good as new, for something immeasurably old… man.'

'Good, now all we need to do is fly her out of this pit…'

Chima floated off the ground, revealing a patch of intensely ionised air beneath her that sparked and rippled like a heat-wave.

'…looks like she can do it herself, let's get in!' Jumping through the surface of the ship, they landed somehow, in the centre.

'It's good to be back dears,' crooned the mothering voice of Chima. 'But, what of Spiff, the brightest star in the gloried heavens, the focus of my existence, the-'

'He's fine,' cut in Rafe, 'bleeping fine as always.'

'Good, good.' The egg shaped compartment began to glow.

'Chima?'

'Yes dear?'

'How are your systems?'

'Damaged slightly, my jump drive may have problems, but should be good for the next million parsecs.' A look of stunned admiration crossed Yeldarb.

'What's a parsec man?' asked Rafe.

'Quite a long way indeed³⁷ my friend, lets just say you don't want to run for a bus that far.'

'And a bus?'

A view panel materialised before the pair, showing, so far, the bare naked and semi-fused rock of the mine shaft.

'Okay, Chima, let's go!' Bursting forth from the mine with such speed and noise, that it sent rolling the half-dozen people congregated at the entrance, Deep Chima rocketed into the sky.

'Erm, Chima?' said Yeldarb as the sky darkened and the stars became visible, 'We've still to pick up Spiff.'

'And drop me off,' wailed Rafe, 'I've got a lot of things to do on the ground. Standing mostly.'

Chima braked with windscreen splattering abruptness, turned and then dived flaming comet style for the surface.

Lady X held her breath, but then remembered, she didn't need to; after all, she was dead now.

A glittering, chandelier laden and vaulted chamber, bathed in soft reflected gold and dia. Unfortunately, they did just that and a Creeping decorative vines sprawled to the ceiling and an endless flooring of hopefully fake Chitarrh fur spread thickly before them. The sprawling bustling mass of dancers and what must be the famous Gagakoole brothers hundred strong thought choir all came to silence, psi or otherwise as she entered, hanging on Zod. She gripped his hand and breathed with forced sarcasm, 'all this, for me…'

'For you my love, and more…'

A gigantic oval shaped vid-screen glided in, pulled in-tow by a small group of blue skinned slaves. Its dark placid screen, rippled and then flooded with a typical scene; the Mac Zod burger queue; in-queue that is.

The sad, scrawney rejected figures, worn to the bone from years of abuse in the mines, rags hanging off them like a second or even third skin as they filed into a dark copper domed building; to the accompanying whine of a bane saw and occasional scream.

Lady X absorbed the scene; these were the people she wanted to help, her people. What am I doing here she panicked.

Zod, seeing the desired reaction flush across her face, broadcast to the watching emotion drenched crowd, 'As an act of kindness, these queues shall be gone forever, all these… people will be released from their bondage and returned to the life of free people.'

Lady X looked at him disbelievingly. 'What about the ones just entering?'

Zod tapped the screen which rippled in response; the muscled frame of a battle orc swaggered closer and saluted sloppily. Zod nodded, the beast strolled back to the creeping queue and unrolled a scroll.

Faint mumbling could be heard, haggard faces beyond hope turned and looked about in mild confusement. The orc scratched its head. The scroll was passed to one of the inmates who could read and translated the Empiric script.

Lady X looked to Zod, 'Your releasing them?'

He leaned closer and whispered below that which the crowd could hear, 'And every day you stay here-you don't even have to be with me; every day, I'll repeat this scene.' Leading her gently to the marbled dance floor, that shone like a crystal reflecting pool, Zod took a dramatic stance, one hand held high in the air, and directed towards the band.

The crowd gathered about them; all the fashionable members of Zod's Empire. Military admirals decorated until they sagged along with their joyless also sagging wives mingled with the optimism of the young just entering the service; immersed in galantry, beautiful delicacies³⁸ hanging off their arms.

A procession of twenty identically and period clad boys cut through the heaving crowd bearing a padded cushion of hippo-sofa sized proportions, upon which, sat a small glittering something. Zod plucked the gemstone and ring from its plump surrounds, and, with gasps from the crowd, bent one knee fully and held it out before the slim sculpture of Lady X.

'Oh dear,' she breathed softly.

Deep Chima burst from in-between space and into the midst of a pitched laser maelstrom, most of which, directed through swirling layers of green atmosphere to the not-so secret base below. Irregular, vaguely triangular cheese like wedges of hole riddled starship, drifted menacingly in ugly packs, between which, bounty vessels of various dark and scarred 'made to do business' shapes flitted. A sudden bolt of defiance erupted from the planet and ripped through the largest destroyer, sending debris spiralling silently into space; and it has to be said, improving its looks no end, for the Empires ships are ugly like an alley trashcan covered in stringy noodles and just about as graceful. Built not so much for efficiency, but for sheer 'what the bleep is that?' effect, they often stall would be attackers caught between the 'do I flee or vomit?' instinct.

Disjoint angles of battered and bruised weapon topped spikes protruded at all angles, especially the unappealing ones and were so numerous that not only could attackers not tell where the front was, but also not even if they'd managed to damage it. Chima, the systems binary suns setting rapidly over her hull, swung precariously between two of these lumbering monsters and, her shadow skipping across them like a pin prick, sought to lose her self in the teeming tangled mass of vessels assailing the planet. Unfortunately, even in attacks as mish-mas as this, all ships are tagged with a unique coded signal, and so, to every ship they passed, Chima shone on their displays a nice amber, with crosshairs flashing over her image. Bounty vessels took the bait greedily, and jostling amongst themselves, bid with the destroyer for reclaimation fees as they powered towards the planets outer rings in scalding hot pursuit. Laser bursts silently cut into Chima, but with the magic of the Military Special Space Effects Sound-kit³⁹, made pleasing 'peoooo-fzzzappp' space-invader sounds on the Control and Mapping Panel displays. Buffeted by so many blasts and forced to dare the boulder strewn planetary rings, the writing, as they say, in twenty foot high red letters, was on the wall for Chima.

'What the bleep is happening? Chima, status.' cried Yeldarb.

'We appear to not be the first at the given co-ordinates. Ten destroyers, Empire Klattu class, and over thirty bounty vehicles of unknown origin or markings. Signs of extensive impact sites on the planet below, with limited retaliation. We've also just lost all our deflectors and I forgot to pack any space suits.'

Yeldarb groaned soullessly.

The ship rocked, the hull blazed an intense lightning white.

'What was that?'

'A shot from the destroyer Punisher.'

Rocked again, this time in the opposite direction.

'And that?'

'The bounty hunters.'

Another blast, sparks flew from a wall panel.

'That?'

'The rebels on the ground have started to retaliate.'

'Great,' beamed Spiff, 'it can't get any wo-'

A stay boulder plunged into the hull, the ship spun. Multi-coloured flashes danced across the walls, displays began to flicker and punched cards and ticker taper began to spew from wall panels.

'Surface integrity failing. One more hit my dears,' Chima sounding genuinely worried, 'and we're space food.'

'Right,' Spiff jumped to his feet again, and disregarding the spinning environment, strapped himself down and took manual control, or rather, control of the manual. He hastily flicked through it, decided it was probably too late to learn how to fly this thing and tossed it away in disgust.

A lurch worse than those that went before, and most that would follow, gripped the ship as it looped backwards and now careered inwards, towards the planet. And then, they were rising again, quite unexpectedly to a safer orbit; and the spinning had stopped. An enormous pondering shadow swallowed the light and replaced it with a net of blazing blue tendrils. They were cast from the battle scarred hulk of the Nukemal as it bore down, docking bay rolling open and revealing squads of anticipating robo-warriors that even now, red eyes blinking as they drifted through the space between them.

'Tractor beam!' Spiff yelled.

'This is no time for farmyard shenanigans!' quipped Yeldarb.

'No, no, look! They're pulling us in.'

Sure enough, the might of the Nukemal was now being most specifically applied to the comparatively small vessel. Doom, as it always does in such moments, looked certain.

The engines began to whine, quietly at first, and then louder until the very air reverberated with the effort to resist the pull.

'Chima, you ok?' asked Spiff, applying his fist to a sparking control panel in an effort to fix it.

'Engine failure in ten seconds. Nukemall sourcing power from other ships in the fleet.'

Spiff glanced up and observed the ribbon streams of energy travelling from the surrounding ships, and focusing on the ugly bulk of the Nukemal. Chima's good, he thought, but not that good, we're done for it we don't get out of here soon. Suddenly, an idea pinged like a broken light bulb in the empty bedsit of Spiffs mind, 'Aha!' he cried with a whoop, but mostly, an Aha.

Sknarf gripped the floor for all her might and ushered a few prayers to gods she didn't believe in, but ultimately hoped would overlook this fact and help her out in exchange for some worship later on.

'Full forward!' Spiff screamed above the dog-whistle whine.

'No, reverse you fool!' cried Yeldarb, struggling, failing miserably and falling back violently as Chima lunged forward with eyeball sinking acceleration. Warping space briefly, she headed directly to the source of the beam, and, at the last second, of which there was only a nano's worth anyway, she didn't bank, but instead plunged straight into and through the shocked hulk of the Nukemal. To the surprise of all, most especially the unfortunate tractor beam control person, who had he reacted quickly enough, would have viewed his truncated body with mild shock.

Ripping through layer upon reinforced layer, shattering decks and eventually bursting forth from the other side, Chima left a strewn trail of debris and globules of red stuff that spun into space; accompanied by assorted ownerless limbs. Thankfully, it was only tomato soup, and the limbs, courgette as they'd just driven straight through the ships canteen.

The Nukemal reeled, plasma and tomato soup squirted from its sparking wound. Engine lights flickered and arcs of tracer light leapt from its towering gun spikes and she began to sink slowly, inexorably out of control. The other destroyers began to distance themselves, but too soon, the explosion occurred, a growing sphere of fury that consumed the nearest two ships, energy searing along the resistant transfer lines. Space rippling about her, Chima burst in a graceless arc and plunged into slightly deeper space like a burning comet.

'Blewrth!' spat Mega Admiral Dearth, as he rapped his red feathered pain stick of the vacuu-glass window that circumnavigated the control deck, 'The Nukemal… The Givitoem and… and… that other ship, gone…' He spun around, glowered at the terrified command crew, and pointed randomly at a boggle-eyed in-lieu-lieutenant⁴⁰ who visible slid back in his seat. 'You, you,' he quavered, 'this is your fault. Take him avay!'

A pair of heavily muscled securi-orc's, bustled forward and bodily lifted the figure, who was wavering by the second, and possibly more often. The slightly uglier of the pair (the only way really to distinguish between orcs) snorted a question; understood only as a question because the gutteral grunts rose in frequency towards the end of its spittle drenching speech.

'Ves!' screached the Mega Admiral, 'but zis time, don't use ze rubber gloves!'

They marched off to the defensive cries of the man. Dearth scanned the remaining deck crew. True, he thought, he'd probably execute them all before this tour of duty was over, but, by the Lord Emperor himself, they'd be better corpses at the end of it! He soaked in the shockingly quiet atmosphere and puffed out his chest in an attempt to appear slightly larger, but failing. He was a bitter man who ate too many lemons and only scraped through the military height test by growing an unusually voluminous hairstyle. He detested all those taller who looked down at him and all smaller simply because they didn't try hard enough to grow up.

'Let zat ve a lesson to you all!'

A cranially under-developed individual just had to ask, 'What lesson's that sir?'

'Sir!' Dearth screeched like a castrated parrot, 'Sir! You do not address me by Sir! You,' stepping forward and jabbing a finger with each piercing word, 'you… call… me….' An evil grin circled his face as he hoarsely whispered, 'Goooooooddddd.'

'Take zim away!'

Dearth looked about, the guards hadn't returned yet.

'Hmm, vou will be taken away for disembowlment later. For now, back to vork!'

'God sir?' requested the navigator.

Dearth stomped towards him and prepared to issue another execution order.

'They're getting away God Sir.'

'Vot!' he jumped to his tiptoes and peered at the display. It showed a rapidly diminishing blob.

Dearth grimaced.

'After zem!'

³² Insert ‘persons’ for correctness.

³³ An excerpt from the history cube: One of the more bizarre ‘Levis lives’ stories of the late twentieth century revolved around the belief that the ‘King’ travelled backwards through time to in an effort to avoid the smothering publicity. Here upon, he started a clothing company that specialised in a form of blue trouser that swiftly became the most popular form of clothing throughout the planet. The monies from this entrepreneurial event were fuelled into alternative vehicle technology, which successfully manifested itself in a saucer-siting wave of the mid-century. In an attempt to prevent the then president investing trillions in what would be an ultimately faked moon mission, The King, offered his UFO technology; providing anonymity was kept. The president, being of a moral persuasion unsuited to his career, threatened to blow the Big E’s cover, saying that ‘such knowledge belongs to the people.’ Assassination was the only alternative, with Levis fleeing to the far reaches of Scotland to avoid the ensuing FBI investigation, where he spent his remaining days ‘flying’ saucer formations through the deepest loch he could find.

³⁴ Not a typo, in times of hardship, the Empires ration allowance for systems under its control, was frequently just one potato.

³⁵ or possibly, error.

³⁶ Following the general eradication of house-hold pets, artificial life-forms originally intended for colonising harsh alien worlds and adapting to the environs found there-upon, discovered a much preferable niche in the home, or rodent-ville as they call it. Evolving far beyond the monstrosities of capture put before them (cats, mouse-traps, tasty morsels of cheese), said robo-rodents were soon to be found in almost every household, royal or not. A vain attempt at controlling the burgeoning population introduced robo-cats, with the unfortunate side-effect that the intteli-mice convinced the not-so-intelli-cats of the advantages of life behind the skirting boards, which eventually resulted in ever larger mouse holes and a veritable menagerie of robo-scavengers.

³⁷ Routinely used for all manner of objects, from bowls of jelly to terrapins.

Question: Setting off one day, on your Raleigh racer to meet up with your old friend and drinking buddy on Sirus, a mere matter of say, 20 light years away, how long do you think it would take you? Answer: Too bleeping long matey, either get some tyres capable of interstellar travel or get a new friend.

³⁸ Not being a politically correct universe, the feminine of the military species are generally shunned from such strenuous careers as pressing triggers in the military. Instead, they are encouraged to enter the joys of needle work, tapestry and ignorance.

³⁹ The Empires military division is often criticised for its lack of sympathy in product naming conventions. Past wonders include: the unforgettable Complex Orthographic Working and Research Division, the inspirational Semi-Underwater Reconnaissance, Recovery Expediter and Deep Endoscopic Rover and the all time unbeatable Low-Observable Very-Explosive Rocket.

⁴⁰ A lieutenant who stands in for another on their shift.

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