CHAPTER TWELVE

“I must get Ricky to stop smoking that vile stuff of

his. We’re going to need strong, clear minds if
we’re to save Earth. Ricky has a bright, intelligent
mind but he’s always hypnotised by that damned
weed.”
CAPTAIN KORK

PART ONE
As soon as Kharg and Draygo had vanished, the Captain took out his Transceiv
er. “Captain to bridge,” he said into it.
He waited but there was no response from the Orion.
“Captain to bridge,” he repeated.
Mr Sprock strolled over to the force-field and ran his hand along it. “I don
’t think you’ll get a response, Jim,” he said. “This is probably blocking our co
mmunication line.”
The Captain turned to Stan. “So you and your people live here?” he asked.
Stan nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right, Jim God. We live on Here.”
The Captain frowned then shook his head. “Fine. How high is this, shall we s
ay, invisible wall?”
“Oh it’s pretty high, Jim God,” Stan told him.
The Captain smiled at him. “How high does it stretch?” he asked patiently.
Stan scratched his head as he considered the question. “Higher than lots of
mammoths on top of each other,” he answered eventually.
“Just as I suspected, Jim,” said Sprock. “I think we can safely assume it’s
going to be impossible to contact the Orion from this side of the force-field.”
“So how do we get out?” mused the Captain. “If Anti-Matter didn’t damage it
then our laser pistols certainly won’t.”
Stan swaggered forward. “You want the door open, Gods?” he asked. “Then Stan
’s your man. Allow me.”
Checking that the flock were watching, he strolled pompously over to the for
ce-field and stopped in front of it. With his hands by his side, he flexed his f
ingers a few times then suddenly pointed his right index finger at the force-fie
ld like a cowboy in a western drawing his gun and firing.
Nothing happened.
Stan the gunslinger frowned and peered closely at his finger. He blew on it,
reloaded and dropped his hand to his side again. He spread his legs, steadied h
imself then stared meanly at the force-field for a few seconds before drawing hi
s ‘gun’ and firing.
Nothing happened. No blue line. No magic bullet.
“The bastard!” he said with feeling, voicing his low opinion of the recently
departed Kharg. “The lyin ungrateful bastard! I was supposed to be able to do t
hat zappin bit. That just shows you what God’s like, doesn’t it?” he ranted. “So
on as He gets what He wants, He’s off. Bugger his faithful followers. An after u
s waitin years for the bastard.” He glanced at the Captain and Mr Sprock who wer
e curiously watching his outburst. “Do you Gods want any followers?” he asked ho
pefully, seeking to transfer his allegiance.
“Hi guys!” a familiar voice called from the other side of the force-field.
“Ricky!” exclaimed the Captain.
“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Stan. “Another God! There’s certainly a lot of them
around today!”
“Are we glad to see you!” the Captain said, strolling over. “How did you get
here?”
“Brown thighs beamed me down,” Ricky told him. “We tried to contact you a co
uple of times but you didn’t respond so I thought I’d beam down and see if big b
rother needed rescuing…again.” Ricky grinned then drew slowly on a long fat ciga
rette he was smoking.
“Well we certainly need rescuing,” big brother told him. “We’re trapped on t
he other side of a force-field,” he explained, tapping it. “We’ll need some equi
pment from the Orion to try and get us out.”
“We won’t need any equipment from the ship,” drawled Ricky, bringing somethi
ng out of an inside pocket.
“The Pendant!” the Captain said in amazement. “Where the hell did you get th
at?”
Ricky shook his head. “When I took it from you on Earth I kinda liked it so
I had some copies made.”
“How many?”
“Oh, quite a few. Otto got one and a Klinger buddy of his got another,” Rick
y drawled, drawing on his fat cigarettes.
“Perhaps that’s how Draygo acquired the copy he had,” suggested Mr Sprock.
“Perhaps,” agreed the Captain. “Unlock the door then,” he said to Ricky, “We
have to stop Kharg and Draygo. They’ve got enough Anti-Matter to destroy Earth
and half the Universe.”
Ricky inserted the Pendant into the lock but like Draygo before him he didn’
t turn it. “I’ll let you out on one condition,” he said.
“What?”
“You let Dennis and Otto go sometime.”
The Captain hesitated. It went against the grain to release prisoners, espec
ially Klinger prisoners but like Kharg before him, he didn’t really have much ch
oice. “Oh all right,” he agreed reluctantly.
Ricky grinned and turned the Pendant. He pushed the door open and his elder
brother and Mr Sprock stepped through.
The Captain immediately took out his Transceiver and flicked it open. “Capta
in to bridge,” he said into it.
“Yes Captain?” Lieutenant Youhoor’s velvety voice answered.
“Get ready to beam us back.”
“Yes sir. Stand by.”
“What about this lot?” Ricky asked, indicating Stan and his flock who were c
lustered round the doorway.
“Leave the door open,” the Captain said, “then they can come and go as they
please. The planet seems much pleasanter on the other side.”
“Thanks, Jim God!” Stan shouted, tugging at his forelock.
The Captain smiled and waved to him. Moments later their outlines began shim
mering then they all vanished.
Stan shook his head. “This has been some day for Gods,” he muttered, then tu
rned back to his flock. “Right Barry an Arthur – let’s get to work,” he said, gr
inning and rubbing his hands together. “Stan the man can see there’s a killing t
o be made out of this little number!”
PART TWO
“Did you see the Klinger Mother Ship leaving on your scanner?” the Captain a
sked Lieutenant Youhoor as soon as he and the others materialised on the bridge.
“Yes sir,” replied Youhoor. “They were headed back towards the Black Hole.”
“How long ago?”
“About thirty minutes.”
“Damn. We’ll have to make that up somehow.”
“Catch you guys later,” Ricky drawled, sauntering off. “You can tell everybo
dy how I rescued you again!” he said over his shoulder to big brother.
Big brother however had other things on his mind.
“We also intercepted a message the Klingers were sending,” Butch Bradley tol
d him.
The Captain frowned. “How did you manage that? We don’t have any Klinger cod
es.”
Butch grinned. “Dennis gave me them,” he said. “No I didn’t torture him,” he
added quickly. “I was passing the brig and he called me over. Gave me the codes
 and a few other bits and pieces as well. I couldn’t get away from him.”
The Captain smiled. “I know what you mean,” he said. “I have the same proble
m every time I pass the brig myself. “What was the message you intercepted?”
“Draygo contacted his Fleet HQ. Ordered half the battle fleet to get under w
ay and meet him.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say. He just gave orders for them to form up and start heading to
wards Earth. He said he’d contact them again with a rendezvous.”
“Probably once he and Kharg agree on their tactics,” suggested Mr Sprock.
“Kharg?” said Butch. “Is he with the Klingers?”
The Captain nodded. “They’ve joined forces.”
“And they have enough Anti-Matter to destroy half the Universe,” added Sproc
k. “With Earth as their first target.”
Butch whistled softly. “Nasty,” he admitted.
“A fine understatement, Mr Bradley,” the Captain said and strolled over to h
is chair. “Reverse co-ordinates on the computer, Mr Crackers,” he ordered. “Let’
s get back through the Black Hole.”
Crackers busied himself with the request and the Orion began to head away fr
om Here. As soon as they had left its atmosphere the Captain contacted the Engin
e Room.
“Jocky?”
“Aye surr?”
“As soon as we’re through the Black Hole I’ll want Warped Speed, Maximum Fac
tor.
“Aye aye, surr!” replied Jocky. “That’s Warped Speed, Max Factor. Nae proble
m.”
“Thanks, Jocky,” the Captain said. “Just make sure we’re going in the right
direction this time.”
As the Orion headed back towards the Black Hole, Captain Kork relayed himsel
f through the ship and explained to the crew what had happened down on Here and
how Kharg and the Klingers were now headed towards Earth, intent on its destruct
ion with the Anti-Matter. Just as he finished, Crackers caught his eye.
“Approaching the Hole’s gravity field,” he announced.
“Increase speed for re-entry,” the Captain announced and the bridge crew ben
t over their consoles, concentrating on their work.
On the forward observation screen, behind some drifting whitish nebulae, the
Hole’s dark outline was visible, fifty space miles away.
“Approaching re-entry angle,” Crackers announced. “Re-entering Hole’s gravit
y field…now!”
The Orion bucked and shuddered as it entered the Black Hole’s gravity field
then its speed increased, the immense power already reaching out and dragging it
down.
“Feed in co-ordinates for the entrance to the corridor,” the Captain ordered
.
“Yes sir,” said Crackers and began tapping in his command.
All round the bridge the crew continued to be totally engrossed in their wor
k. Lieutenant Youhoor flicked a view of the Hole’s surface on to one of her moni
tors so she could follow the Orion’s progress.
She studied her monitor closely then noticed something was missing. Puzzled,
she moved the view around, thinking perhaps she’d misjudged the Orion’s positio
n but her view remained the same.
“Captain!” she said, a touch of panic in her voice. “There’s something wrong
here!”
The Captain swivelled his chair round to face her. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“The corridor entrance – it’s gone!”
“Recheck scanners,” the Captain calmly ordered.
“I have,” Youhoor replied. “Several times. There’s no entrance to the corrid
or anymore.”
The Captain studied the forward observation screen however all it showed was
a view of the Hole’s malevolent dark surface.
 “How far are we from the Hole?” he asked Crackers.
“Four space miles, sir,” Crackers told him.
“Give me a close-up of where the corridor entrance should be.”
The view on the observation screen telescoped in but as Crackers panned it b
ack and forth, all they saw was the Hole’s undulating black surface. There was d
efinitely no corridor entrance anymore.
The Captain leaned forward to his console and contacted the Engine Room. “Jo
cky – can we turn back?”
“No surr,” came the reply. “The Hole’s pull is too much for us. We havnae th
e power.”
“Zero speed then,” the Captain ordered then leaned back in his chair and stu
died the screen. “Return screen to normal view,” he ordered Crackers then turned
to his First Officer. “Don’t hesitate if you have any suggestions, Mr Sprock,”
he said.
“I’m afraid this situation leaves me as puzzled as you, Jim,” Sprock replied
.
“That’s what I feared,” said the Captain. “How long till we reach the Hole’s
surface?” he asked Crackers.
“Two…uh…two,” Crackers mumbled then rubbed at his eyes.
“Two what?” snapped the Captain.
“Sorry sir,” muttered Crackers, blinking several times. “Feel a bit…a bit…tw
o minutes.”
“Give me a countdown,” the Captain ordered the bridge computer.
“Two minutes,” it began.
“Mr Sprock – double check the co-ordinates with Zulu,” the Captain ordered t
hen swivelled round in his chair. “Mr Crackers – are you ill?”
“One minute, fifty seconds,” announced the computer
“Feel kind of…kind of,” Crackers began. He stood up and held his head then s
lumped forwards onto his console, his arm dragging over the instrument panel.
The Orion was jerked off course and went into a screaming sideways dive, thr
owing everyone around on the bridge.
“One minute, forty seconds,” announced the computer.
The Captain scrambled to his feet. “Mr Bradley – your assistance please!” he
shouted, trying to drag Crackers off his console.
Butch didn’t respond.
“Mr Bradley!” yelled the Captain.
“Uh?” Butch muttered drowsily and rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Over here! Now!!”
Butch took a few faltering steps then began swaying around. He reached out t
o a console for support but missed it and crashed to the floor.
“One minute, thirty seconds.”
Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any help from Butch, the Captain reached
forward and grabbed Crackers unceremoniously by the collar, yanked him back off
the instruments and pushed him away from his console.
“Read me the correct co-ordinates!” he snapped to Sprock.
Mr Sprock glanced at Zulu’s monitor. “One point five, seven point three, fou
r point….” he began then trailed off and shook his head several times as if tryi
ng to clear it. “Sorry Jim,” he said. “Four point one five, eight point…point,”
he trailed off again.
Beside him, Zulu sagged backwards in his chair, unconscious.
“One minute, twenty seconds,”
The Captain glanced quickly round the bridge. The entire crew were either sl
umped over their consoles or had slid to the floor. As he turned back, Mr Sprock
sank to his knees then keeled over.
Captain Kork rose and began to walk over to him but after a few steps, colla
psed himself. He tried to get back to his feet but couldn’t find the strength an
d he could only sway around on his knees.
“One minute,” announced the computer.
The Captain shook his head to try and clear the drowsiness that was settling
over him but his eyelids felt very, very heavy. He glanced up at the observatio
n screen – the undulating surface of the Black Hole filled the screen and the Or
ion was heading towards it, well off course.
He made one last determined effort to stand up but his body felt as if it wa
s weighted down with lead. His eyes closed and he sank to the floor.
Behind him, the bridge door swished open and Ricky strolled in. He was smoki
ng another of his fat cigarettes and he grinned as he saw everyone slumped in th
eir seats or lying on the floor.
“Been having a party, eh?” he drawled. He wandered over to the Captain’s cha
ir, slid into it and glanced at the observation screen.
“Forty five seconds,” announced the computer.
Ricky drew on his cigarette and frowned. “Forty five seconds to what?” he mu
ttered.
He stared at the screen for a few moments watching the Hole’s undulating bla
ck surface.
“Shouldn’t we be heading towards a corridor or some shit like that?” he aske
d, looking round.
No-one answered him.
He rose unsteadily to his feet and swayed over to Crackers’ console. “Now le
t’s see, where the hell are we?” he muttered and began fiddling with the instrum
ents.
“Twenty seconds.”
In response to Ricky’s fiddling, the Orion slowly began swinging round to it
s correct course. He drew deeply on his cigarette and exhaled slowly, watching t
he screen.
“Ten seconds.”
Gradually the view on the observation screen began to change and the jet bla
ck of the Hole’s surface gave way to the lighter area of the corridor. Ricky saw
it and grinned.
“Five seconds.”
Ricky had a final fiddle with the instrument panel then swayed back to the C
aptain’s chair and slid into it. He swung his feet up on to the console and was
casually drawing on his cigarette as the Orion shot into the corridor.
Shortly after they entered, the bridge crew started coming round, picking th
emselves up from the floor and straightening up at their consoles, everyone wond
ering what the hell had happened.
“You guys sure pick some time to have a party,” Ricky drawled to big brother
, strolling across the bridge and slipping on to a couch. “We nearly missed the
damn corridor.”
The Captain rubbed his eyes and stared at the screen. “Did we make it?”
“Yep,” Ricky replied. “Thanks entirely to me.”
The Captain glanced at his First Officer. “Was it Kharg?” he asked.
“Probably,” replied Sprock.
“Could he have hypnotised us from a distance?”
“Remembering how easily he hypnotised us on Dulcodaz, I think that would be
possible,” said Sprock.
“So he had the entire bridge crew believing that the corridor didn’t exist a
ny more?”
“And falling asleep at the same time,” said Sprock. “The only person not aff
ected seems to have been your brother.”
They glanced over at Ricky who was sprawled on one of the bridge couches, sm
oking contentedly and staring dreamily at the observation screen.
“That’s because he was already hypnotised by something else,” the Captain sa
id and slipped into his chair. “Relay me through the ship, Crackers,” he ordered
. “I’ll have to warn the crew again.”
Crackers flicked a switch on his console and the bridge crew listened as the
Captain spoke to the ship’s crew.
“This is the Captain speaking,” he said. “We have just narrowly missed crash
ing into the surface of the Black Hole after the entire bridge crew were hypnoti
sed from a distance by Kharg. As I told you some time ago, Kharg has tremendous
hypnotic powers so I want you all to be doubly alert from now on. If you feel in
 the slightest unwell, report to the Sick Bay immediately. I also want you to wa
tch your fellow crew members – if any of them start behaving unusually, I would
request that you contact me or Mr Sprock. Kharg has already tried to kill us all
once. He’ll probably try again. We must stay on our toes if we are to defeat hi
m. Captain out.”
On the other side of the bridge, Butch Bradley was bent over his console pre
tending to check his weapons panel. ‘Kharg?’ he thought to himself, a mad gleam
coming into his eyes. ‘What’s wrong with Kharg? Kharg’s a great guy!!’
PART THREE
As the Orion was travelling through the corridor inside the Black Hole a new
era of capitalism was beginning on the planet Here. A large sign saying ‘PROMIS
ED LAND’ had been crudely lettered in goat’s blood and was propped up next to th
e doorway in the wall that nobody sees.
A large crowd had gathered nearby and a queue snaked into the distance. Stan
the Prophet was standing in front of the doorway, the Pendant round his neck. J
ust inside the doorway and blocking the entrance stood Barry and Arthur, each wi
elding a large wooden club.
“Next!” yelled Stan.
A middle-aged man and his family detached themselves from the crowd and appr
oached.
“What’ll it be then?” asked Stan. “One week visit, day ticket or guided tour
?”
“One week visit please,” said the man.
“That’ll be one daughter,” Stan told him, handing him a small black pebble w
hich served as his ticket.
“Any one in particular?” the man asked, turning to his family.
Stan the Man grinned and ran an expert eye over his four giggling daughters.
“Her,” he decided, indicating a buxom, black haired beauty.
She strolled forward, pouting and fluttering her eyes at him.
“Put her with the others,” Stan told Barry, patting her rear as she passed.
Arthur moved aside to let the rest of the family through but the man hung ba
ck.
“No chance of permanent residence is there?” he asked Stan.
Stan shook his head. “We’re full at the moment, sport,” he told him.
The man glanced round furtively then withdrew a crudely made bracelet from i
nside his furs. He pushed it discreetly into Stan’s hand. “A gift,” he muttered
out the side of his mouth.
“Very nice,” Stan admitted as he examined it. “Very nice indeed.”
“Could you put us on the waiting list?” the man asked.
“Sure,” replied Stan, throwing an arm round his shoulder and leading him int
o the Promised Land. “But you’ll have to wait until somebody snuffs it. We’re pr
etty full at the moment. Still,” he said, winking, “these things can be arranged
. Know what I mean?”
The man smiled and nodded. “We have lots more bracelets back at our cave,” h
e whispered. “Perhaps we could come to an agreement?”
“Perhaps,” agreed Stan, slapping him on the back. “We’ll talk about it later
. Now go an have some fun. Oh an go easy on them big tasty red berries – don’t w
ant to spend the week with bot rot, do we?”
The man laughed and strolled after his family.
Pleased with his deal, Stan walked back through the doorway. “Next!” he yell
ed.
Another middle-aged man and his family approached. The man’s wife was extrem
ely fat and his two daughters were outstandingly ugly.
“One week visit, day ticket or guided tour?” Stan asked.
“One week visit,” the man replied.
“That’ll be one daughter,” Stan told him.
“Which one?” the man asked.
Stan inspected what was on offer and screwed up his face. “Bloody hell, you
must be jokin, mate!” he replied.
“How about both of them?” the man asked hopefully.
Stan looked at the daughters – at the ugly faces, the hairy moles, the promi
nent moustaches, the layers of fat. “No chance,” he decided.
“Both of them and my wife?”
“Piss off!” Stan retorted.
“How about a day ticket then?”
Stan shook his head then spotted the family goat which was trailing behind t
hem. “Tell you what, I’ll let you on the guided tour for that,” he said, pointin
g at it.
The man sighed. “All right,” he agreed then sidled closer to Stan. “Don’t yo
u want my wife and daughters anyway?” he asked.
Stan looked at him contemptuously.
“Couldn’t you even use them as a sacrifice?”
“Blimey mate, you couldn’t even sacrifice them to the Devil!” Stan replied.
The man nodded resignedly. “Oh well,” he muttered, “it was worth a try.”
Stan handed him his white pebble ticket and the family walked into the Promi
sed Land and joined the group waiting for the guided tour.
“Next!” yelled Stan.