SKYTREK : THE KRYSTALS OF KHARG

DANNY MIAMI
 2

PROLOGUE

On a small planet in a distant Galaxy, two figures were moving purposefully

across a wide desolate plain towards a rocky hillside, their way illuminated by
twin moons hanging in the purple night sky.
The tall thin figure, Kharg, had a domed hairless head and glittering yellow
eyes. He wore a high-collared flowing velvet robe which concealed his bony
frame and reached the ground, giving the impression that he drifted along
rather than walked.
His companion, Giraffe, who preferred to think of himself as ‘a bit on the
short side’, was really a dwarf and he had to trot along to keep up. He was
wearing a top hat and tails and carried a shovel over his shoulder.
After fifteen minutes walking they reached the rocky hillside and as Giraffe
rested, Kharg drifted around, checking co-ordinates on a small positioning
scanner.
“This is the spot,” he said eventually in his slow, rasping voice, indicating an
area near a large boulder. “Begin digging, Giraffe.”
Giraffe removed his top hat and jacket and placed them on the boulder. He
rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, revealing short muscular arms, picked
up his shovel and leaned it over his shoulder.
“Hi ho! Hi ho! It’s off to work I go!” he sang, skipping round the boulder in
time to his singing.
“Dig!” Kharg rasped impatiently.
Giraffe grinned at him. “Ah, you’ve no sense of humour, Boss,” he said.
“You take all this too seriously. You’d think you wanted to rule the bloody
Universe or something.”
“I do,” rasped Kharg. “After I destroy Earth. Now dig!”
Giraffe thrust his shovel into the ground then stood on it so it sank in
deeper and grunting with the effort, began to dig. After he’d broken through
the hard pebbly surface, the soil was like fine powdered sand and soon his
digging had cleared a deep hole.
“You’re sure this is the spot, Kharg?” he asked, stopping for a rest and
mopping at his face with a handkerchief.
“Of course I’m sure!” rasped Kharg. “Keep digging.”
Grumbling under his breath, Giraffe picked up his shovel again and
continued clearing more of the fine powdery sand from the hole. After a few
minutes of further digging he thudded into something solid.
“Careful!” instructed Kharg, drifting closer. “Use your hands.”
Giraffe tossed his shovel aside and knelt down in the hole. As Kharg
peered down watchfully, he began clearing the sand away from the solid
object with his hands. They were just the right size for the job and soon he
uncovered a large gleaming white rock.
“That’s it!” hissed Kharg. “Bring it up.”
Puffing and panting and cursing, Giraffe freed the white rock from the sand
and groaning under its weight, heaved it over the edge of the hole then
levered himself out.
 3

Kharg’s yellow eyes glittered as he looked at the rock and the slit in his
lower face opened in a facsimile of a smile, revealing thin pointed teeth. He
bent down and effortlessly lifted it then drifted away with it to some level
ground.
Giraffe climbed onto the nearby boulder and sat there, mopping his face
and catching his breath. When he’d recovered, he took a cigar from the inside
pocket of his jacket and lit it then made himself comfortable on the boulder to
watch Kharg.
“This should be good,” he muttered, puffing away happily. “Worth all that
bloody digging.”
A short distance away Kharg had laid the white rock on the ground and had
drifted back from it a little. He raised his hands, spread his long tapering
fingers then flicked them. Instantly, ten straight blue lines shot out from them,
straight blue lines that hissed and crackled and gouged holes in the ground.
He brought his hands together, palm to palm and the ten blue lines fused into
a single thick one, emanating from his right index finger.
He pointed up into the night sky and as he moved his finger along, traces of
blue remained against the darkness. Satisfied, he began outlining something
and as Giraffe watched, a large hand began to take shape.
When the hand was completed Kharg flicked his finger and the thick blue
line changed to an intermittent golden one. He sprayed the gold light all over
the hand and when it was covered, stood back to watch.
Slowly, the shimmering gold began to disappear and when the last of it
vanished there was a real live hand underneath – the skin was a light brown
colour, nails had formed on the ends of fingers, knuckles stood out and veins
criss-crossed and pulsed slightly.
Giraffe applauded. “Brilliant special effects, Boss!” he said, grinning.
Kharg ignored him and watched as the fingers of the hand twitched slightly
then it began moving across the night sky. Suddenly it swooped down in a
wide curve and stopped in front of him.
Kharg pointed at the white rock and the hand moved forward and picked it
up. The fingers curled round it and squeezed and there were crunching
sounds as the rock disintegrated. The hand shot upwards then tossed the
fragments high into the air and they whirled round and round as they rose,
sparkling in the moonlight.
Just as they were about to fall back, they stopped and hung motionless in
the purple night sky. Each of the fragments began glowing from within then
flashed and changed into small multi-coloured crystals.
The crystals fell to the ground around Kharg and when the last one had
dropped he drifted forward and held out a long bony hand. One by one, the
crystals leapt from the ground and into his palm, forming a neat glowing
pyramid.
“At last I have them!” he rasped triumphantly. “I have the Krystals! The
Krystals of Kharg!!”
Behind him, Giraffe applauded enthusiastically. “Amazing special effects,
boss! The best I’ve seen yet!”
Kharg ignored him again and took out an ornate ivory box. Carefully he slid
the Krystals into it then replaced it inside his voluminous dark blue robe.
“Come Giraffe,” he rasped, drifting away. “There is much we have to do.”
 4

“Aw don’t tell me we have to walk all the way back to the ship?” Giraffe
complained. “Its bloody miles.”
Kharg stopped and turned. “What do you suggest?” he rasped.
“A taxi!” replied Giraffe, grinning. He put two fingers to his mouth and let out
a piercing whistle.
Immediately the hand swooped down from the sky and hovered in front of
them. Giraffe grabbed his hat and jacket, ambled over and climbed into it. He
peered over the large fingers which were curled up slightly then he pointed
into the distance.
“Follow that meteor!” he yelled, giggling.
Kharg shook his head then drifted over and joined him. He rasped out an
order and the hand rose into the air then started moving away from the rocky
hillside and headed back across the plain towards their ship.
 5

CHAPTER ONE

“Why do I like working for Kharg? That’s an easy

one. Kharg has vision, he has charisma, he has
amazing magic powers – everything a future
Boss of the Universe needs. Apart from that, he
promised to make me taller!”

GIRAFFE
 6

PART ONE

Space. The final challenge.

These are the journeys of the starship Orion. Our five year mission : to get
about the Universe a bit and see if any aliens can play Grand Theft Auto IV –
no that’s not right….our five year mission : to search out new worlds and new
life-forms, to make contact with new civilizations, to bravely go where no man
has ever gone.

CAPTAIN’S LOG : STARDATE 501.75

A few days after leaving Earth on our latest journey into one of the unexplored
areas of the Universe, we picked up a distress call from a ship somewhere in
the Avalon System. The signal was weak and we have no idea how long it’s
been beaming out but under one of the unwritten laws of space, all distress
calls must be responded to and consequently we have changed course and
are on our way to investigate.

Captain James T. Kork sighed, closed the ship’s Log and leaned as far
back in his chair as his Tummy Trimmer Corset would comfortably allow. With
that first entry yet another mission of the Orion had officially commenced. God
knows how long this one would last and here he was, once again condemned
to wear this stupid, ridiculous uniform.
‘To bravely go where no man has ever gone ought to be – to bravely wear
what no man has ever worn,’ he thought in disgust.
He glanced down at the garish, bright red jumper, the ill-fitting green ski
pants and the lace-up brown combat boots he had to wear. With despairing
realization he noticed that apart from the colours not co-ordinating, there
wasn’t even any overall flair to the design of the outfit. Groaning, he strolled
over to the full length mirror in his cabin and examined himself.
“Who in their right mind would turn out garbage like this?” he muttered,
peering at the uniform from several different angles. “Look at it – whoever
designed this uniform must have been a whisky-soaked drunkard. No wonder
any new life-forms we meet laugh at us. How the hell can we expect them to
take us seriously when we’re dressed like this?”
If only Federation Command had taken him up on his offer to re-design the
uniforms for the entire Star Fleet. He’d taken a portfolio with him to Head
Quarters at the end of the last mission but after they’d looked at his round-
collared cut away velvet jackets, white shirts with frilled fronts and an
individual choice of full length breeches, they’d ordered him to rest completely
for a month then had offered him a desk bound job as a Mission Co-ordinator.
True the salary would have been higher and he wouldn’t have had to
endure these tedious voyages but my God, the uniforms Mission Co-
ordinators had to wear – they were worse than this! Those stiff collars really
chaffed the underside of your chin, an inherited weak spot with him anyway
and the breeches that ended just below the knee were hell in winter.
 7

On the grounds of superior clothes taste he’d turned down the offer and
had settled for another mission with the Orion.
This time his younger brother Ricky was accompanying them on the
invitation of Federation Command who were trying to persuade him to join
them.
‘God knows why,’ thought Captain Kork, still glancing at himself in the
mirror.
Agreed, Ricky’s intelligence was exceptional but so was his fondness for
every conceivable drug known to man, something he would have to watch him
on.
“Apart from that he also dresses like a tramp,” muttered the Captain, having
a last look at himself before he made his way to the bridge.
He smoothed down a few wayward strands of his neat but fashionably cut
brown hair and smiled lazily at his reflection. Damn! Those little crow’s feet at
the corners of his eyes really gave his handsome tanned face an added touch
of maturity.
‘Not bad for a forty five year old,’ he thought. ‘Not bad at all.’
He turned sideways and examined his profile, pleased to see there were no
giveaway bulges from his Tummy Trimmer Corset.
Satisfied with his appearance, apart from the uniform that is, he strapped
on his laser pistol and strolled towards the door of his cabin. As he
approached, the doors swished open and he stopped to watch and listen, a
smile on his face.
God how he loved the doors on this ship! The lovely smooth way they
swished open and that pleasant little hissing noise they made as they
disappeared into the cabin walls.
He stepped through the opening and turned to watch the door closing. He
took a couple of steps backwards to get a better view and kicked over a mop
bucket, sending a miniature tidal wave of dirty brown water surging down the
corridor.
“You bloody prat!” an elderly female voice screeched. “I’ve just mopped that
friggin floor!”
Captain Kork glanced round. Hilda the cleaning lady was glaring at him,
flabby arms folded across and resting on her sagging bosom.
From head to foot, Hilda was the opposite of good dress sense : a faded,
full length floral apron was her main outfit, from the bottom of which two bare
varicosed lower legs poked out before they disappeared into black socks and
a pair of tattered trainers. A dirty blue beret covered most of her grey hair and
a half-smoked cigarette dangled permanently from her lips.
The Captain gave her the benefit of his lazy smile, complete with those
appealing crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes but Hilda remained unmoved
and continued to glare at him.
He glanced at the rapidly moving muddy water which was still surging along
an already mopped, dried and gleaming corridor floor. “Even King Canute
couldn’t stop that,” he remarked philosophically.
“Bugger you an bugger yer mate!” Hilda replied, the movement of her lips
dislodging half an inch of cigarette ash which fell into the torrent. “I’ll have to
mop this pissin corridor again because of you.”
 8

“My apologies madam,” Captain Kork said courteously, turning on the full
smile and showing his perfect white teeth which, he always thought,
contrasted nicely with the light tan on his face.
Hilda ignored his perfect white teeth as moments before she had ignored
his appealing crow’s feet. “While we’re here,” she said, still without removing
the cigarette, “is this your room?”
The Captain nodded.
“Well let’s you an me get a few things straight my lad,” she went on, jabbing
a podgy forefinger at him. “I want it kept tidy so don’t be expectin me to go
round pickin up yer clothes. No women after midnight – I don’t allow that sort
of thing on my ship. And no aliens, definitely no bloody aliens. I’m pissed off
cleanin up after them – discarded skins lyin around an that slimy stuff all over
the place, so no aliens in the room. Got all that?”
An amused twinkle in his blue eyes, the Captain nodded again.
“So long as we understand each other then,” Hilda said, “we won’t have no
trouble. If we do, there’s always this,” she told him, brandishing the long mop
handle.
Involuntarily, Captain Kork felt his buttocks tighten.
Hilda took a final draw from her cigarette then tossed it into the mop bucket.
“Right, on yer way,” she ordered, jerking a thumb at him.
Glad to get away, the Captain tiptoed through the inch of brown water on
the floor and continued on his way to the bridge.
‘It’s a damn shame the uniforms these cleaning ladies have to wear,’ he
thought as he strolled along the corridor to the lift. He sighed and shook his
head. ‘If only Federation Command had given more serious consideration to
my portfolio.’

PART TWO

In the heart of the Avalon System which lies some distance from our own
small Galaxy, the planet Dulkodaz and its people had meandered about their
daily business for centuries with nothing unduly dramatic happening.
Until Kharg and Giraffe arrived.
Within an hour, Kharg had deposed the ruler of the planet and had taken
over his palace. Giraffe informed the population that they needed to ‘borrow’
their planet for a few days but that it would be returned ‘unbroken’ – so long
as they gave no trouble.
After witnessing a display of Kharg’s powers the population wisely decided
not to cause any trouble and kept their distance.
Before he had arrived on Dulkodaz, Kharg had positioned his empty decoy
ship in the Avalon System and had triggered its distress call, knowing that
Captain Kork and the Orion would have no choice but to respond to it.
In the elderly Observatory on Dulkodaz, the elderly white haired
Astronomer looked up from his elderly star maps as the door opened and
Kharg drifted in.
“Have those Federation fools picked up the distress call yet?” he rasped.
“Yes, my Lord,” replied the old Astronomer. “They have already changed
course and are heading towards your decoy ship.”
“Show me.”
“Certainly, my Lord. If my Lord would care to step over to the wall map.”
 9

From floor to ceiling on the far wall and stretching all the way along it,
Kharg had earlier set up a map of the Avalon System on thin black glass so
he could track the Orion.
Giraffe however had taken over the wall map, despite the old Astronomer’s
protests and was intent on playing Grand Theft Auto IV on it….until Kharg
flicked out a thin blue line from his index finger and zapped him on the back of
the head.
“Shit!” yelled Giraffe, dropping his control pad and causing his car to crash
through a shop window in downtown New York. He turned and saw Kharg
glaring at him. “Oh sorry, Boss,” he said. “Just waiting till you arrived.
Everything’s set up.”
Quickly he unhooked his games console and the wall map reappeared.
Kharg drifted across the room to it and the old Astronomer picked up a pointer
and shuffled after him.
“Earth,” said the old man, tapping a white circle on the map. Several inches
away from it, representing a billion space miles, a flashing red triangle was
moving slowly along. “The Federation ship Orion,” he added, pointing to it. “At
first they were heading away over here,” he went on, tracing the Orion’s
original route, “but as soon as they picked up the distress call they changed
course and are now coming to investigate it.”
“Good,” rasped Kharg. “Where is my decoy ship?”
The old Astronomer moved further along the wall and peered at the map.
“Ah here it is,” he said, indicating a flashing green triangle which was
travelling slower than the Orion.
Kharg glanced at an array of instrument panels and monitors in the corner
of the room. “You are controlling the decoy ship from there?” he asked.
“Yes, my Lord.”
Kharg nodded and turned back to the map. “Where will you cut its power?”
The old man peered at the wall again and stroked his long white beard. “In
this area here,” he replied, tapping a section in front of the decoy ship. “Near
Dulkodaz.”
“When will the Orion reach it?”
“At the most, one more day, my Lord.”
Kharg seemed satisfied with the answer. The next stage in his plan to
destroy Earth and rule the Universe was in place. “You have done well, “he
rasped. He reached into his robe, withdrew a glittering diamond and tossed it
onto a table.
Giraffe grinned at the way the old man’s eye’s lit up when he saw it.
“For me!?” the old Astronomer gushed, clasping his arthritic hands
together.
“For you,” confirmed Kharg. “Inform me when my decoy ship is in its final
position and the Orion is approaching.” He turned and drifted towards the
door. “Come Giraffe,” he rasped. “We must prepare for the arrival of Captain
Kork and Mr Sprock.”
“Oh good!” said Giraffe. “Noddy and Big Ears! I can’t wait to see what
Sprock’s ears will be like this time!”

PART THREE
 10

The nerve-centre of any ship travelling through space is its bridge. It is here
that all information from scanners and computers is received, monitored and
acted on. It is here that all decisions regarding the route and speed of the ship
are made. When danger threatens, it is here that action is taken, whether it is
offensive or defensive, with the uppermost thoughts in the Commanding
Officer’s mind being the safety of the crew and the ship.
As Captain James T. Kork was making his way up in the lift he was
whistling softly to himself, confident that the Orion was in capable, competent
hands and should any problems arise, they would be dealt with swiftly and
professionally by his highly trained bridge personnel……

“Eyes down for a full house!” yelled Ensign Cool.

In front of him on the bridge, half a dozen of the Orion’s crew were
gathered in a semi-circle, pens poised over their bingo cards.
“What’s the big prize this week?” someone asked.
“One of those new uniforms the Captain designed for us,” Ensign Cool
replied.
All the players groaned.
“Right, here we go with the first number!” Ensign Cool announced as a
small numbered ball slid down the glass tube in front of him. “Two fat
spacemen – 88!”
The players bent over their cards and concentrated.
“Next number. Youhoor’s bra size, all the fours – 44!”
The game continued……

“Alien bone necklaces! Alien bone bangles! Get all your alien bone
jewellery here!” shouted the tall, elegant Doctor Malloy, the Orion’s Surgeon,
as he moved round the bridge.
He had a large tray slung in front of him which had various types of bone
jewellery on display.
“Bones! I need bones! I got to have bones or this ship ain’t goin nowhere!”
Mr Zulu yelled.
Mr Zulu, the Orion’s Navigator, was a large dark brown chap with a large
dark brown voice. On the floor beside his console he had a complicated
pattern of bones laid out however he required some additional material before
he could determine the next part of the ship’s course.
Doctor Malloy smiled at him and strolled over. “Big bones, small bones, fat
bones, thin bones,” he reeled off. “What did you have in mind, Zulu?”
“Let’s see what you got in this tray here,” Zulu said. He searched around
and came up with a necklace made up of thin alien bones. He broke the
necklace and examined the bones. “These are perfect, man. How much?”
The Doctor pursed his lips. “Two hundred UniCredits,” he told him.
Zulu nodded and fished out a credit card from a drawer in his station. “This
okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Doctor Malloy, taking a note of the number. “I’ll put it through
as a navigational aid, how’s that?”
Zulu grinned. “That’s cool, bro,” he replied and happily turned back to his
floor lay-out……
 11

“Skin the bastards alive!” announced Lieutenant Victor ‘Butch’ Bradley, the
Orion’s Weapons Officer. “That’s how I’d deal with aliens or any other friggin
life-forms we meet.”
The other crew members propping up the small bar nodded in agreement.
“Screw the old ‘make friendly contact with the bastards’ routine,” went on
the well-built Butch. “Let’s blow them apart. Then we can take what we want
without having to bargain with the mothers. What d’you say, Jocky?”
Jocky, the Orion’s Chief Engineer, stared moodily into his drink. “Yer too
soft, Bradley,” he replied in his rolling Scottish accent. “Whit aboot prisoners?”
Butch visibly brightened. “Prisoners?” he said, grinning. “Good idea, Jocky.
We could bring a few back to torture.”
At the end of the bar a young Ensign half-choked on his drink.
“Yeah, prisoners are good,” Butch said with feeling, warming to his subject.
“Remember once we brought back one of them aliens from Signus Five. We
nailed him to some metal girders and --”
The young Ensign pushed his drink away and clutched his stomach.
“-- cut a hole in him with a welding torch. Then we started to pull him inside
out, bit by bit and --”
The young Ensign collapsed at the end of the bar and lay on the floor,
retching.
“-- what the hell’s that noise?” Butch asked, looking round.
“It’s probably that poof ower there,” Jocky answered, jerking his thumb at
Simon, the Orion’s exquisitely groomed Beautician.
Butch glanced over at Simon with distaste. “Commie faggot bastard,” he
sneered. “Tell you what I’d like to do with him.”
On the floor at the end of the bar the young Ensign has passed out and
was mercifully spared Butch’s detailed, graphic description……

Oblivious to the insults being hurled in his direction, Simon was trying to get
rid of a spot on Mr Cracker’s cheek by popping it between his nails.
Mr Cracker’s, a small balding man, was the Orion’s Helmsman. He screwed
his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and manfully let his spot be squeezed.
“There,” said Simon, popping it. “All finished.”
Crackers whimpered a little and opened his eyes.
“Damn!” Simon complained, examining his finger. “I’ve chipped a nail.”
Some loud laughter from the bar caught his attention and he glanced over.
“My, isn’t he a hunk!” he muttered, gazing admiringly at Butch Bradley. “Wish
he’d ask me to squeeze something!” He stared wistfully at Butch for a few
minutes then set about the arduous task of repairing his damaged nail……

Ricky Kork, the Captain’s younger brother, lay sprawled on one of the
bridge couches, dressed in t-shirt and faded Levis. On either side of him sat a
black stocking’d, black boot’d, mini-skirt’d Ensign.
Ricky sucked in some more smoke from the fat cigarette he was holding
and nodded appreciatively. “Good stuff,” he drawled and passed it to one of
the women.
She took a draw and exhaled slowly. “Nice,” she agreed. “Where’d you get
this?”
 12

Ricky brushed his long brown hair away from his face and gazed out one of
the observation windows, a dreamy smile on his face. “Traded it for that
Pendant the Captain used to wear,” he replied.
The women giggled.
“You mean that Pendant he’s obsessed with? The one he was presented
with on Vargas?”
Ricky nodded. “The very one. He thinks it’s got something to do with the
Evil Force!”
“The Evil Force!” one of the women repeated mockingly and the couch
dissolved into a sniggering, giggling heap……

“So I went back to this film director’s place after the party,” Lieutenant
Youhoor drawled to the semi-circle of attentive women crew members. The
Lieutenant was the Orion’s Communications Officer. She patted her curly, jet
black hair and crossed one silky brown thigh over the other, “and after he
fixes me a drink he says he’s popping into the shower.”
Her listeners leaned forward expectantly. The Lieutenant’s exploits back on
Earth were legendary and her stories kept the other women entertained on
the long voyages.”
“So after he’s had a shower he wanders back into the room,” Youhoor went
on, the memory parting her sensuous lips in a fond smile, “and all he’s
wearing is --”
Suddenly the bridge door swished open and an Ensign rushed in.
“Captain’s coming!” he yelled, cutting short the Lieutenant’s tale. “Captain’s
coming!”
With practised ease, indicating that this was a regular occurrence, the crew
calmly swung into a well-organised routine to get the bridge back into shape
before he arrived.
The bingo equipment was cleared away, the small bar was slid neatly into
the wall and some pleasant air freshener was sprayed around. All non-bridge
personnel filed out a side door in an orderly manner, somebody dragging out
the Ensign who had earlier collapsed during Butch’s reminiscences. The
remaining crew members returned to their stations and in under a minute the
bridge had returned to normal.

PART FOUR

Unfortunately for Captain Kork and his crew, Kharg and Giraffe weren’t the
only ones who were interested in them. From the opposite end of the Avalon
System a Klinger Mother Ship was deliberately heading towards them, having
tracked the Orion since it left Earth.
The Mother Ship was a massive vessel, four times the size of the Orion and
it contained five hundred Klinger warriors under the command of one General
Draygo.
The Klingers were the arch-enemies of the Federation and Captain Kork
had crossed swords with them many times before and remained a permanent
barrier to their plans to dominate the Universe.
This time however the problem of Captain Kork and his crew was going to
be dealt with once and for all because General Draygo had been sent out with
one purpose only – to kill the Captain and destroy the Orion and thereby
 13

remove the main obstacle that stood between the Klingers and their universal
empire.
General Draygo’s plan to kill Captain Kork had seemed simple enough on
paper when he worked it out. When the Mother Ship entered the Avalon
System they picked up the distress call from Kharg’s decoy ship and had
tracked the Orion changing course to respond to the call. Being Klingers, they
had totally ignored the distress call.
The Mother Ship was now deliberately heading towards the Orion, knowing
full well that they would eventually be picked up on their outer scanners and
the Orion would change course to avoid them.
The plan therefore was to release a small attack ship before the Mother
Ship was picked up by the Orion’s scanners. When the attack ship was in
position it would be invisible under its cloaking device and would not be
picked up by the Orion’s scanners and would then wait in ambush to blow it
up as it passed.
On the bridge of the Mother Ship, General Draygo stood in front of his two
man attack squad who were ready to leave. “So you understand the plan
then?” he asked the two warriors.
“Yes sir!” replied the Sergeant and the Private in unison.
“Get down to the attack ship then,” ordered the General. “And remember
this – when you succeed in your mission you will become heroes of the
Klinger empire.”
The Sergeant and Private saluted proudly and left the bridge.
General Draygo strolled over and looked out one of the observation
windows at the stars twinkling in blue-black space. “Time to die, Captain
James T. Kork!” he muttered. He sat down in his command chair, drumming
his fingers impatiently on the arms as he waited for word from the Exit Bay.
A couple of minutes later his intercom buzzed and he flicked it on. “Attack
ship ready to launch, sir,” a voice told him.
“Launch it!” ordered the General then leaned back and watched the Exit
Bay observation screen.
Deep in the Mother Ship the huge steel doors of the Exit Bay slid open and
the small attack ship drifted out. It swung round onto its course then headed
out into space.
Draygo watched it for a minute then swivelled round to the Navigator. “How
soon till it’s in position?” he asked.
“One hour, sir,” the Navigator told him.
The General nodded. “And how long till the Orion picks us up on their
scanners?”
“Two hours, sir.”
An evil grin spread over Draygo’s ugly face. The attack ship would soon be
in position. The Mother Ship was heading towards the Orion. The Orion would
pick them up on their scanners and change course to avoid them….and head
straight towards the attack ship waiting in ambush. Then….BOOM!! There
would be a distant yellow flash as the Orion exploded in space.
Content with how his plan was progressing, the General settled back
comfortably to watch and wait.
 14

CHAPTER TWO

“The most intelligent person I’ve ever met in the

entire Universe? Unquestionably it’s me. The
worst thing about being me? Unquestionably it’s
the way my damned ears keep changing shape
every month. Totally preposterous.”

MR SPROCK
 15

PART ONE

Unaware of the plans for the Orion’s imminent destruction, Captain Kork
stepped out of the lift and strolled along the short corridor to the bridge. Three
quarters of the way along he slowed deliberately, an anticipatory smile playing
about the corners of his mouth.
God how he loved the bridge door! Unlike most of the others on the ship it
didn’t slide open from side to side but parted in the middle, each half
disappearing neatly into the opposing wall with a lovely hissing sound at
exactly the same time.
After a final check that there were no give-away bulges from his Tummy
Trimmer Corset he stepped up to the door. It swished open when he was
about a foot away from it and he glanced quickly from side to side so he could
see the halves disappearing into the walls.
He took a couple of paces into the bridge and turned to watch them hissing
out again and meeting in the centre with that delightful little click. ‘Ah,
wonderful!’ he thought, grinning to himself. ‘Absolutely wonderful.’
Resisting the impulse to step back out and re-enter so he could watch the
door again he turned and surveyed the scene on the bridge. The crew were
quietly and calmly going about their work and everything appeared under
control.
Satisfied, he strolled down to his chair and slipped into it. “Status report, Mr
Crackers,” he requested.
“We’re still on course to investigate that distress call, Captain,” replied
Crackers.
The Captain nodded. “Is it growing any stronger?”
“The closer we get the stronger it gets, sir. It’s definitely coming from a ship
near the centre of the Avalon System.”
“Have we tried contacting it yet?”
“Yes sir. We’re sending out an automatic message every half hour but so
far there’s been no response.”
“How long till we reach it at our present speed?”
“One day, sir.”
The Captain frowned. A day. It was highly unlikely they were going to find
anybody alive after all this time. Still they had to try.
“There’s something else, sir,” said Crackers. “The outer scanners picked up
a Klinger Mother Ship a few minutes ago heading straight towards us. We
changed course to avoid it.”
“A Klinger Mother Ship?” I wonder what they’re doing in this area?”
 16

Before Crackers had a chance to reply the lights above the Transporter
Platform started flashing, indicating someone was being beamed aboard.
Several of the crew suddenly remembered who it was and groaning inwardly,
pretended an all-consuming interest in their work.
Captain Kork swivelled round. “Who’s arriving?” he asked Lieutenant
Youhoor.
“It’s uh, just a couple of the crew,” she replied and quickly returned to her
scanners.
The Captain turned back to the Platform. As the transporter beam grew
stronger the outline of two men began to take shape, the bright red of their
uniform jumpers becoming visible. Moments later they had beamed up
completely and he recognised two of the Engine Room crew.
“Hey everybody – hamburgers!” one of them yelled, stepping off the
Platform and starting to hand out boxes.
Unlike his friend, the second guy had seen the Captain. He shoved his
boxes down behind Butch Bradley’s console then frantically tried to attract the
first guy’s attention, pulling at his jumper from the back.
“Double cheeseburger – that’s Lieutenant Youhoor’s,” the first guy went on,
continuing to hand out boxes. “Hey, stop pulling buddy, you’ll get yours,” he
said to someone yanking at his jumper, unaware of who it was. “Double
quarter pounder with relish, what greedy bastard ordered – look buddy, will
you quit pulling?” he said angrily, turning round.
A thumb jerked in the direction of the Captain told him what all the pulling
had been about. He turned back and saw Captain Kork staring at him.
“Oh shit!” he muttered. He shifted about uncomfortably for a few moments
then tentatively held out a box. “Cheeseburger, sir?” he asked.
The Captain shook his head and waved them away. He strolled over to one
of the bridge couches where Ricky was dubiously engrossed in a training
manual. Helpfully the Captain turned the book the correct way up as he sat
down beside him.
“Ricky,” he said, putting a brotherly arm round his shoulder, “I realise you’re
along on this mission to learn and I don’t want to dampen your enthusiasm but
don’t use the Transporter Platform to beam people down to hamburger joints.”
Ricky grinned and nodded.
“It’s junk food,” his elder brother went on. “It’s not good for your body. All
those fats and carbohydrates. There are some great health food places dotted
around space. In future if you’re beaming people down I expect to see them
coming back with yoghurts or nuts or fresh fruit. Understand?”
“Okay Tadpole,” Ricky drawled.
“Ssshhh!” the Captain hissed, glancing round to see if anybody had heard.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” Ricky asked. “It’s your middle name.”
“I know, I know but we don’t use middle names on the ship.”
Ricky grinned. “Especially when they’re really silly ones, eh Taddy?”
The Captain bit his lip then his hand reached up involuntarily to the front of
his jumper. “You haven’t seen my Pendant by any chance, have you?” he
asked. “That one I always wear?”
“The one that’s got something to do with the Evil Force?”
Captain Kork shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, that’s the one,” he admitted.
“Evil Force!” Ricky said mockingly and sniggered.
 17

The Captain leaned back in the couch and stared thoughtfully out one of
the observation windows. “When you’ve travelled the Universe as much as I
have,” he began, “when you’ve made contact with other life-forms and seen
how some are good and some are evil, you get to thinking.”
Ricky yawned and glanced round about the bridge.
“Yes you get to thinking,” the Captain went on, standing up and gazing out
into the blackness of space. “You get to wondering – what does it all mean,
where did we all come from, who created us in the first place?”
A female Ensign had caught Ricky’s eye. She smiled at him and after a
quick look at his brother who was still staring off into space, Ricky slipped
over to her.
“And if something did create us, it can only be described as a Force,” the
interstellar philosopher went on. “A Good Force. And since everything in the
Universe has an opposite, there must be an opposite Force. An Evil Force.”
Ricky and the Ensign were now strolling towards a side door, arm in arm.
All round the bridge the crew had gradually stopped what they were doing and
were listening to the Captain.
“I believe there is an Evil Force,” he continued, oblivious to the attention he
was receiving. “I’ve seen it. Felt it. Beaten it. But it’s still there in other parts of
the Universe. Malignant. Waiting. I believe we’ll come into contact with it again
and we must be strong. We must face it. We must overcome it. And with the
help of the Good Force, we will overcome it!”
The bridge crew nodded to each other and gave the Captain a warm round
of applause. Startled, he looked round then realised they’d all been listening
to him. Slightly embarrassed he waved the applause away.
“Resume stations everyone,” he ordered and strolled back to his chair,
grateful that the light tan on his face was concealing the light blush
underneath.

PART TWO

Swivelling impatiently in his chair in front of the observation screen,

General Draygo waited for news from his attack ship. His red and black
leather outfit identified him immediately as a General but apart from that he
looked like any other Klinger.
In fact one of the things Klingers were so angry about and which
contributed to their aggressive natures was that they all looked pretty similar
and pretty ugly at that.
Straight black hair grew on their large heads and fell from a centre parting
to their shoulders. Beneath their heavily wrinkled foreheads large hairy
eyebrows grew in an uninterrupted line, nearly obscuring their small piggy
eyes. Various lumps and bumps adorned their cheeks and chins and it was
the size and positioning of these which gave them their only facial
individuality.
However not only was your average Klinger pretty ugly, he was pretty thick
as well, as General Draygo was about to be painfully reminded.
His plan to kill Captain Kork and wipe out the Orion had seemed simple
enough – the Mother Ship would deliberately enter the Orion’s outer scanner
limits, knowing it would change course to avoid them and head straight into
 18

the path of the already positioned small attack ship, lying in wait invisible
under its Cloak.
The General had waited patiently for the distant yellow flash on his
observation screen which would indicate the destruction of the Orion and the
success of his mission but as time dragged on and the view of space
remained unchanged, he grew tired of waiting and broke communication
silence to contact the two-man attack ship.
“Is the Orion approaching yet?” he asked them.
On the attack ship, the puzzled Sergeant frowned at the Private sitting next
to him. “The Orion?”
“Yes the Orion,” growled Draygo. “Is it approaching?”
There was a lengthy pause. “Is it approaching what?” the Sergeant
eventually asked.
“Is it approaching you!?” Draygo roared.
The Sergeant sniggered. “Not unless it turns back,” he replied.
It was Draygo’s turn to pause. “What d’you mean, turns back?” he asked,
puzzled.
“It passed us five minutes ago,” the Sergeant told him, grinning confidently
at the Private.
“It passed you five minutes ago!? Why didn’t you blow it up?”
“Blow it up? Don’t be daft, we’re the diversion.”
“We’re the frigging diversion, you prick!!” roared Draygo, thumping his desk
in frustration. “You mean you let them go past!?”
“Uh…well…I suppose we did.”
The General paced around the bridge for a full minute, roaring and cursing
and taking his temper out on anything that got in his way. When he had
calmed down a bit he spoke to the Sergeant again. “Listen carefully,” he said
through gritted teeth. “Have you got your Cloak on?”
“Nope, I forgot,” admitted the Sergeant.
“Well put it on,” Draygo instructed. “Go after the Orion. When you get close
enough, blow it up. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” said the Sergeant and flicked off the radio.
He shook his head and left the small bridge, returning shortly afterwards,
carrying something.
“What have you got that for?” asked the Private. “Feeling cold?”
The Sergeant shook his head. “Not really,” he replied, “but Draygo says
that I‘ve to put my cloak on and we’ve to go after the Orion.”

PART THREE

With the bridge crew settled down and concentrating on their work after
Captain Kork’s recent well-received monologue, the Orion continued on its
course to respond to the distress call from the unknown ship. Something else
however was about to distract their attention.
As he glanced round the bridge, the Captain noticed that someone was
missing. Just as he was about to enquire after his whereabouts, a cigar-
chewing Butch Bradley wandered over, goosing Crackers as he passed.
“Acting First Officer Bradley reporting,” he announced casually then leaned
down and put an arm round the Captain’s shoulder. “Queer Ears is sulking in
his cabin again,” he told him. “Scared we all laugh at him. Haw haw haw!”
 19

The Captain wiped away small cigar shreds from the side of his head. “I
take it you are referring to First Officer Sprock?” he asked.
“You got it,” agreed Butch. “Queer ears.”
“Return to your station, Mr Bradley. I’ll contact Mr Sprock and find out what
the problem is,” the Captain said.
Butch strolled off, both hands up at his ears and flapping about, causing
some poorly suppressed sniggering amongst the crew.
Catching the laughter the Captain sighed and wearily rubbed a hand across
his brow. Mr Sprock, his First Officer, was a damned fine man to have as his
second in command. The only problem with him was that he was a Bulcan.
Although Bulcans were reasonably similar to Earthlings they did have one
striking difference, or rather two – their ears.
Bulcans had strange ears. Very strange. They changed shape once or
twice a month but nobody knew what form the new ones were likely to take,
not even the owner. Sometimes they were large and pointed, sometimes they
were shaped like cabbages, sometimes they stuck out at floppy right angles
like a dog’s.
Unfortunately for Mr Sprock the new ears were invariably ridiculous and he
took understandable offence at people laughing at him especially as he was a
highly intelligent, dignified man and First Officer of the Orion, a position which
should have commanded respect not hilarity.
Captain Kork sighed again then leaned forward and pressed a button on his
desk intercom, buzzing Sprock’s cabin.
“Yes Captain?” the familiar, slightly nasal voice answered immediately.
“Not joining us on the bridge, Mr Sprock?”
Sprock hesitated. “I have a bit of a headache, Captain.”
“More like earache,” muttered Butch Bradley, causing more subdued
sniggering.
“Come come, Mr Sprock,” the Captain chided. “I need you on the bridge.”
Sprock sighed. “To be honest, Jim,” he said, “my ears have changed again.
I fear some of the more vulgar members of the crew might find them amusing
and laugh at me.”
This caused more muted giggling around the bridge.
“I can understand your predicament and believe me I sympathise,” said the
Captain, “but I really do need you up here.” He leaned closer to his intercom
and tried to whisper into it. “How bad are your ears anyway?”
“Very bad, Jim. The worst they’ve been in a long time.”
An uncontrollable snigger escaped from someone. The Captain glanced
round quickly but everyone appeared engrossed in their work.
“I’ll tell you what, Mr Sprock,” he went on, turning back to his intercom, “I’ll
give the crew a good talking to before you come up. How’s that?”
“It won’t work, Captain. As soon as they see these they’ll disintegrate.”
“Christ, get him up, get him up!” Butch hissed.
“Mr Sprock,” the Captain said more firmly. “I can assure you as
Commander of this ship that if I issue the crew with a direct order and they fail
in their duties then the consequences for them would be extremely serious.
They know that so if I say they won’t laugh, they won’t laugh.”
Sprock considered this. “All right Captain,” he eventually agreed. “I take
your word. I’m on my way.”
 20

A buzz of excitement and expectation ran round the crew as Captain Kork
flicked off the intercom. He swivelled round in his chair, stood up and faced
them.
“No doubt most of you heard that conversation,” he announced. “It seems
my First Officer, Mr Sprock, has gone through another ear change. Now you
are all aware of how sensitive he can be about this so I’ve assured him that
there will be no laughing or derogatory remarks made. If anybody causes him
any embarrassment or says anything stupid it will be treated as an act of
direct insubordination and you all know how harshly Federation Command
deals with that. Do I make myself clear?”
The crew nodded respectfully.
“Then carry on with your normal duties,” the Captain ordered. “And don’t let
me hear one word out of place when Mr Sprock arrives.” He turned and
resumed his seat.

PART FOUR

Zipping across space in their small attack ship, the fierce but dim Klinger
warriors eventually caught up with their prey. Maintaining their traditions of
stupidity the Sergeant was wearing his cloak instead of activating their Cloak
but it didn’t really matter – the bridge crew aboard the Orion were only
pretending to work as they awaited Mr Sprock’s arrival so no-one noticed the
scanner sweeps which showed the small yellow dot approaching from the
rear.
“There they are,” said the Sergeant as they picked up the Orion on their
observation screen.
“So it is,” agreed the Private. “The Orion. Should we signal them?”
The Sergeant laughed derisively and slapped him across his forehead.
“Don’t be thick. We’re going to blow them up.”
The Private frowned. “Blow them up? I thought they were the diversion?”
“Naaa,” said the Sergeant. “Draygo’s the diversion.”
“Oh is he?” muttered the Private, his frown deepening as he tried to work
out the complexities of modern warfare.
“Right, line them up,” ordered the Sergeant.
The Private gave up trying to fathom out the depths of their battle tactics
and busied himself with the controls and brought them in not far behind the
Orion. “Enemy ship lined up,” he said.
The Sergeant grunted and leaned forward to his console. He flicked some
switches and waited till the flashing red light became steady, indicating that
the ship’s lasers were ready for firing. “Weapons ready!” he announced,
grinning and rubbing his hands together.
“Oh go on, let me!” pleaded the Private. “I like the firing bit.”
“All right,” the Sergeant agreed and leaned back in his seat. “Fire!”
“Thanks Sarge,” said the Private. “You’re a sport.”
He flexed his thick fingers then stretched across to the Sergeant’s console
and jabbed the green button. The two of them sat back and watched the
observation screen expectantly, waiting for the Orion to erupt in a bright
yellow ball but all they heard was the sound of the toilet flushing in the rear of
the ship.
 21

The Sergeant turned and slapped the Private across the head again. “Twat!
You pressed the wrong button!” he yelled. “You’ve flushed the toilet! Line the
damn thing up again!”

PART FIVE

Unaware of how close they’d come to being flushed all over space, tension
continued to mount amongst the bridge crew as Mr Sprock’s arrival grew
near.
As the Captain was staring at the forward observation screen, deep in
thought, Butch Bradley took the opportunity to add to the suppressed
excitement by parading up and down with two large paper plates held against
the side of his head, causing an outbreak of muted sniggering amongst the
crew. One of the Ensigns lost control completely and hand clapped over his
mouth, he had to leave before the main event began.
A couple of minutes later the bridge door swished open and breaths were
held collectively as Mr Sprock took a hesitant step in.
As he had stated earlier, his ears were bad. Very bad. They were the same
shape, texture and colour as an adult pig’s and they stuck out at right angles
to his head, pink and hairy.
A strangled, tortured gurgle escaped from Lieutenant Youhoor and had him
quickly turning in her direction, eyebrows raised, ears twitching but with a
magnificent effort she managed to turn the gurgle into a cough and nodded
pleasantly at him.
He glanced in the opposite direction but the crew all had their heads down
mainly because after having had the briefest of looks at him they realised it
was either pretend they were working or surrender to bladder-emptying
convulsions.
Satisfied for the time being that there was no collective outburst of laughter
but aware that it could still happen, Sprock made his way tentatively across
the bridge, pausing here and there to investigate and eliminate any suspicious
sounds that remotely resembled sniggering.
In his wake he left a devastated crew : Lieutenant Youhoor, in her
continuing fight not to laugh, was biting hard on her lower lip and had her legs
tightly crossed; Butch Bradley was silently thumping his fist against the soft
rubber surround of his console; Ensign Cool had fallen off his chair and lay
behind a desk, his legs kicking in the air and a couple of the women were
huddled next to each other, their slim shoulders shaking in fits of silent
giggling.
The entire bridge had become a tinderbox of suppressed laughter and one
carelessly tossed aside remark was liable to set it alight.
Ignoring the large, hairy, pink ears, the Captain rose from his seat and
smiled warmly at Sprock as he approached. “You see,” he said proudly, his
hand sweeping round the bridge, “nothing to worry about. Not even a titter.”
At the mention of the word ‘titter’, Mr Zulu nearly lost control and fought
desperately to stifle a snigger. Quickly he ducked under his console and
pretended to search through his bone box. Sprock watched him closely, an
eyebrow arched in suspicion.
“Relax,” the Captain told him. “It’s nothing. Mr Zulu’s just sorting through his
bones.”
 22

“Dem bones, dem bones, dem ear bones!” Butch Bradley hissed and
Lieutenant Youhoor nearly bit through her lip.
Sprock twitched his ears and nodded. A full two minutes had elapsed since
his entrance and no-one had laughed and no derogatory remarks had been
hurled at him. Obviously he had underestimated the Captain’s authority over
the crew.
“I was unwise to doubt your word, Jim,” he said apologetically.
Captain Kork smiled at him. “Think nothing of it,” he replied.
After a final glance round Mr Sprock relaxed completely. Putting all his
premonitions aside he began to concentrate on his work. He studied the
observation screen for a few moments then turned to the Captain.
“From the constellations on display I see we are in the Avalon System,” he
remarked. “What is our purpose here?”
“Oh we’re responding to a distress call from your ears,” the Captain replied.
As one, the crew disintegrated. Laughter which had so far been denied
release suddenly sensed freedom and escaped from every possible orifice in
a gigantic, sniggering, giggling, hee-hawing, boisterous roar that threatened to
lift the ceiling off the bridge.
Lieutenant Youhoor fell off her seat and joined Ensign Cool on the floor
who was now doubled up in uncontrollable spasms. Mr Zulu had put his bone
box over his head and was shrieking wildly.
Crackers was reeling about on top of his desk, his elbows bumping his
instruments, sending them zigzagging through space. This was exceptionally
fortunate because the Klinger attack ship had just fired on them and the
Orion’s unexpected course change caused them to miss.
Butch Bradley had his eyes screwed shut and was thumping his console
with both fists. Without realising what he was doing his left hand banged down
on the ‘Fire’ button and he released a rear heat-seeking missile which scored
a direct hit on the Klingers.
The attack ship disintegrated in a ball of yellow flame but its destruction
went completely unnoticed by everyone on the Orion.
Realising what he’d said, Captain Kork’s head sank into his hands as Mr
Sprock ear flapped and squeaked his way from the bridge.
When the door swished shut the Captain glanced up. He looked round at
the roaring, screaming, thigh-slapping, giggling mass that was the bridge crew
then slowly his shoulders began to shake.
Laughter welled up in him and he tried to hold it back but it burst out and he
sprawled back in his chair slapping the arms, tears running down his face, his
stomach heaving so much that it threatened to split his Tummy Trimmer
Corset.
 23

CHAPTER THREE

“When you’ve travelled in Space as much as I have

you get to realise one thing about the Universe –
it’s a pretty untidy place. I mean, all those planets
and stars and galaxies just scattered around at
random. I think the Good Force should have tidied
Space up a bit after He created it….or is this just
the beta version?”

CAPTAIN KORK
 24

PART ONE

In the heart of the Avalon System, dawn was breaking on the planet
Dulcodaz. Its twin suns lazily nudged each other, rubbed the sleep from their
eyes and slowly began to climb up the sky, slowly sending glowing yellow
fingers of warmth and light across the land.
In the stillness of the morning the door of the Observatory creaked open
and an elderly robed figure came out. It was the same white haired old
Astronomer who had earlier been controlling Kharg’s decoy ship for him and
plotting the course of the Orion and he hurried along the path to the palace as
fast as his protesting joints permitted.
Kharg and Giraffe had arrived on Dulcodaz one week ago and within an
hour of his arrival Kharg had deposed the planet’s ruler and had taken over
his palace for his own purposes….which just happened to be the next stage in
his plans to rule the Universe.
“My Lord Kharg will be pleased with the news,” the elderly Astronomer
muttered to himself, rubbing his hands together. “He will reward me well.
Damn! First I have to get past that absolute pig of a Guard.”
He stopped and stroked his flowing white beard as he considered a way
round the problem. “I know!” he said, his face brightening. “I’ll tell him I need a
part for one of the scanners. Yes that should do it. He doesn’t know what a
scanner is anyway, the drunken swine.”
Pleased with his plan the old man hurried along the path, gathering his robe
tightly about him in the chill morning air. He stopped before the heavy outer
door of the palace and knocked on it.
“Come on, come on you stupid pig!” he muttered, shivering in the cold.
A metal panel in the door slid open and a face appeared - an ugly, greasy
face.
Immediately the old Astronomer’s demeanour changed. “Ah good morning,
sir!” he gushed, smiling and bowing. “What a simply marvellous day it
promises--”
“Fuck off,” grunted the Guard and slid the panel shut.
Undeterred, the old Astronomer knocked on the door again. “Sir! Oh sir!
Your Excellency!”
The panel slid open again.
“Sorry to be such a nuisance,” the old Astronomer said apologetically, “but I
have to come inside. I need a part for one of the scanners.”
“Come back later,” the Guard grunted.
“No no. I need it just now. Right away.”
The panel slid shut and the old man heard the sounds of bolts being drawn
back. He smiled to himself and did a little victory dance then as the door
began to open he reverted to his humble, fawning pose.
 25

“Ah, thank you, thank you. A thousand tha--” he began then stopped when
he saw the laser pistol in the Guard’s grubby hand. The Guard grinned at him,
showing his rotten brown teeth. “Think I’m daft?” he said. “You’ve got a
message for Kharg, haven’t you?”
“A message for Kharg? Me?” the old Astronomer repeated in astonishment,
raising his hands to the heavens. “Don’t be foolish. What message could--”
The Guard pointed the laser pistol at him.
“Kharg’s decoy ship is in its final position,” the old Astronomer blurted
quickly, his eyes never leaving the pistol. “The Orion is now approaching it.”
The Guard grinned again and squeezed the trigger. A beam shot out, there
was a strangled scream from the old Astronomer and he dropped to the path.
“Prat,” the Guard sneered and slammed the heavy door shut. “A message
for Kharg, eh?” he muttered to himself. “There could be some gold in this for
me.”
He ran his grubby hands through his greasy hair, brushed at some food
stains on his filthy uniform and scraped some mud off his boots.
“How do I look?” he asked a prisoner who was chained to the wall.
“Immaculate,” replied the prisoner.
The Guard grinned, picked up a bucket and threw the stinking, putrid
contents over him.
“Mmmhh!” muttered the prisoner appreciatively, licking the revolting mess
as it dripped from his hair. “Breakfast’s early today.”
The Guard put his helmet on and strolled up a short corridor to the young
Captain’s room. After a final attempt to tidy himself up he knocked on the door
and entered.
“Morning sir,” he said, saluting and knocking his helmet off.
The impeccably groomed young Captain was sitting at a table,
breakfasting. He put down his silver cutlery and watched contemptuously as
the Guard fumbled with his helmet and tried to get it back on.
“You disgusting toadball,” he sneered. “You slime coated slug.”
“Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” the Guard said. “Sorry to disturb your breakfast,
sir. Just on my way to see the Major,” he explained, edging towards the far
door.
The Captain pulled at a wall sash then rose and strolled over to block the
Guard’s way. “Why do you wish to see the Major, you walking pile of skunk
droppings?” he asked.
The Guard scratched at the stubble on his chin and frowned then he
suddenly remembered. “Oh yes, there’s a fleet of Klinger ships approaching.”
The Captain shook his head in disgust. “You lying rat,” he sneered. “You
have a message for Kharg, don’t you?”
The Guard bit his lip. “Well, sort of.”
“What is it?”
“I’d rather take it myself, sir.”
In response to the Captain’s earlier sash pull, a servant had appeared
carrying a narrow wooden box. He opened it, revealing two silver laser pistols
lying on a velvet lining.
“Thank you, Willis,” the Captain said, selecting one.
Seeing what was happening, the Guard started to sweat and began edging
back to the door. “Kharg’s decoy ship is in its final position,” he babbled then
 26

lost his nerve completely and turned and bolted. “The Orion is now
approaching it!” he yelled from the corridor on the run.
The Captain took casual aim and fired. The Guard’s running stopped and
there was a choked cry followed by the sound of a body thudding to the
ground.
“Toad,” muttered the Captain and handed over the pistol.
Willis replaced it in the box, bowed respectfully and withdrew.
“A message for Kharg, eh?” the young Captain said to himself as he
preened himself in front of a mirror. “The old boy will be delighted with the
news. I fancy there could be a spot of promotion in this for me.”
He smiled at his handsome reflection then strolled over to the far door. He
listened carefully for a few moments then opened it very gently. He peered in
but the room was empty so he quickly darted in and took cover behind a large
desk.
“What is it, Captain?” the Major called brusquely from an adjoining room.
“I have to see Kharg rather urgently,” the Captain replied, remaining under
cover.
“Why?”
“There’s been an outbreak of leprosy on Dulcodaz.”
“Damned bad show. What’s the real reason?”
The Captain hesitated. “You won’t shoot me if I tell you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed the Major.
Still the Captain hesitated. “Promise?”
“Yes of course,” snapped the Major. “Good God man what d’you want me
to do – pull out my liver and let you keep it as a hostage?”
The Captain peered cautiously over the top of the desk. The silver haired
Major was standing in the open doorway of his adjoining room. He was
wearing a smoking jacket and in one hand he held a cigar and in the other a
report he’d been reading. Relieved that a laser pistol wasn’t being pointed at
him, the Captain smiled and stood up.
“Good show,” said the Major. “Now what’s this damned message?”
“Kharg’s decoy ship is in its final position,” the Captain told him. “The Orion
is now approaching it.”
“Excellent,” said the Major.
Suddenly a third hand holding a laser pistol appeared from under his
smoking jacket. A beam shot out and zapped the Captain who screamed and
fell.
“Fool,” said the Major, taking off his smoking jacket which had a padded
false arm with a report held in the realistic hand. He brushed at his uniform
and ran a finger along his neatly clipped moustache. “A message for Kharg,
what?” he muttered. “Jolly good. Should be something interesting in this for
me.”
He walked through to the desk in his adjoining room, stubbed out his cigar
and pressed an intercom.
“Yes?” responded Kharg’s rasping voice.
“Forgive the intrusion, your Majesty,” said the Major, bowing several times
to the intercom, “but I have an important message for you.”
“Come through,” rasped Kharg.
A recessed arched door slid up and the Major walked through to Kharg’s
quarters. It was a large room with a lot of complicated electronic and
 27

communications equipment set up in it, with banks of monitors and screens

taking up half of one wall.
Kharg turned from a console he’d been working at. He was still wearing his
high-collared, long velvet robe and the bright lights in the room seemed to
diffuse though his face, giving it a strange, translucent quality.
Sitting next to him on a high stool and also still wearing his top hat and tails
was Giraffe. He had been playing Grand Theft Auto IV however on seeing the
Major coming in he paused the game and gave him his full attention, knowing
he could be relied on to provide some entertainment.
“What is the message you have for me?” Kharg asked in his slow, rasping
voice.
The Major bowed deeply before him. “Your serene Majesty,” he intoned.
Kharg sighed and waited. Giraffe grinned.
“Your most noble and revered Highness,” the Major went on, “without
whose presence our lives would be in perpetual darkness.” He dropped to one
knee and held out his arms in worship. “Without whose guiding light we would
be as worms crawling blindly in the mud.”
Giraffe applauded.
“Before you I am prostrate,” continued the Major and tried to get down on
both knees to illustrate the point but discovered he was too stiff and settled for
bowing his head. “I am not worthy to be in your presence. I should not be
breathing the--”
“The message!” rasped Kharg impatiently.
Startled, the Major looked up. “The what? Oh yes, the message,” he said,
disappointed that his speech had been cut short now that he was in full flow.
“The message….now let me see, what was it?”
“Why do I tolerate these damned fools?” Kharg muttered, shaking his head.
“It’s, ah….” the Major began, frowning and trying to remember. “Oh yes
it’s….no, it’s not that. Hang on just a minute, it’ll come back to me I’m sure it
will.”
Watching from his stool, Giraffe sniggered at the Major’s discomfort and
Kharg’s impatience.
“Wait! I have it!” announced the Major, getting to his feet. “The Orion’s in its
final position and your decoy ship is now approaching it.” He frowned. “No,
that doesn’t sound right….your decoy ship’s in its final position and the Orion
is now approaching it. Yes that’s it.”
Kharg’s oval, yellow eyes glittered. “So the Orion draws near and my decoy
ship awaits it. Excellent news!” he rasped. “They will be too stupid to resist the
bait.” The slit in his lower face opened slightly, revealing thin, pointed teeth as
he smiled. “Soon we shall meet again Captain James T. Kork and I shall take
what I need from you and your Bulcan friend before I kill both of you.”
He drifted over to the centre of the room where there was a pyramid of
glowing, brightly coloured cubes. At the top of the pyramid was an intricately
patterned ivory casket.
A misty blue light floated round it and Kharg snapped his fingers and the
mist vanished. Carefully he picked up the casket and opened it. Neatly
arranged inside and seeming to glow from within were the Krystals.
“The Krystals of Kharg!” he murmured, lovingly stroking them. “They will
guide me to the Dark Power and when I possess it I shall destroy Earth and
then the Universe will be mine to rule as I please.”
 28

He returned the casket to the top of the pyramid then flicked a long bony
finger at it. Immediately the misty protective light surrounded it again.
Behind him the Major coughed discreetly. “So glad to have been of
assistance, your Highness,” he said. “If the news I have brought has pleased
you even in the smallest way I am well rewarded.”
Kharg looked at him and shook his head. He reached into his robe, brought
out a glittering diamond and tossed it to him.
The Major caught it expertly. “For me?” he asked, affecting great surprise.
“My most humble and sincere thanks, your Divineness.”
On his stool, Giraffe applauded. “Ten out of ten for grovelling!” he declared.
“Out!” commanded Kharg, tiring of the Major.
He began backing off, bowing and scraping as he went. “It’s an honour to
serve you, my Lord. It fills my heart with joy to--”
As soon as he had cleared the room Kharg flicked a button and the arched
door slid down, mercifully cutting the Major off.
On the other side of the doorway the Major dropped all pretence of
grovelling and quickly drew out an eyepiece from his pocket and examined
the diamond. “A beauty!” he muttered appreciatively. “Nearly flawless.” He
pocketed the eyepiece and held the diamond up. It glittered and sparkled in
the light and he grinned as he gazed at it. “It’ll be leg over time with that young
blonde chamber-maid after she sees this, I reckon!”

PART TWO

Not far from Dulcodaz a ship drifted along aimlessly in the black wastes of
space. It was Kharg’s decoy ship and it was still beaming out its distress call.
There was no crew on board and it was being moved along slowly by the
gravity pull of Dulcodaz, its own Drive lifeless. It was still too far away to
appear on the Orion’s forward observation screen but it now showed up
distinctly on one of Lieutenant Youhoor’s monitors.
“Scanner reports indicate the ship beaming out the distress call,” she
announced.
Captain Kork swivelled round in his chair. “Distance?” he asked.
“One hundred space miles,” Youhoor replied.
The Captain nodded. “Put it on screen, Crackers,” he instructed. “Maximum
view.”
Crackers pushed his telescopic lever all the way across and the view on the
forward observation screen jumped closer. Kharg’s decoy ship came on
screen but it was still too distant for a detailed visual inspection.
The Orion was gaining on it all the time however and the bridge crew were
studying it intently – they had come a long way across space to investigate,
diverting from their original route and naturally they were all curious.
Mr Sprock was back amongst them. His ears had changed again but this
time they were normal sized and slightly pointy and hardly warranted a
second glance.
“Run a thermal scan on the inside of the ship,” the Captain ordered
Youhoor then turned to Crackers. “Can we identify it yet?” he asked.
Mr Crackers had already anticipated his request. “It’s a small warship with
significantly less capacity than the Orion,” he replied, reading the information
on his monitor.
 29

At the mention of the word ‘warship’ the Captain initiated standard safety
precautions. “Arm Lasers,” he ordered Butch Bradley. “Raise Shields.”
“Thermal scan negative,” Lieutenant Youhoor announced.
The Captain glanced at his First Officer. “That means there’s no crew on
board,” he said.
“Or no crew alive,” replied Sprock.
“There’s something else, Captain,” Youhoor said. “Heat generation from the
ship is extremely low.”
“Which means the Drive is inoperative,” said Sprock. “No crew or a dead
crew on a ship drifting along and beaming out a distress call. Very strange,
Jim.”
By now they had neared sufficiently to get a closer look but it didn’t help
them any. The small warship was just drifting along in space showing no signs
of life.
“Return the screen to normal,” the Captain ordered Crackers. “See if there’s
a response to a direct communication,” he said to Youhoor.
She turned back to her console and flicked open her ship-to ship line.
“Warship off our starboard bow, this is the Federation ship Orion. We are
picking up your distress call. Respond please.”
They waited but there was no reply.
“Warship this is the Federation ship Orion. Respond please.”
They waited again but there was still no reply.
“Forget it, Lieutenant,” the Captain said. “It just confirms the thermal scan.
There’s no-one alive on board.” He studied the screen for a few moments
then turned to his First Officer. “Impression, Mr Sprock?” he asked.
Sprock stared thoughtfully at the screen. “The ship doesn’t appear
damaged so that rules out the probability of attack,” he said. “Which leaves
two possibilities – either the crew died for some reason after activating the
distress call or there was never a crew on board in the first place.”
The Captain glanced at him. “You mean the ship’s deliberately been left
there empty?”
Sprock nodded. “Possibly as a decoy.”
“Let’s blow it out the friggin sky!” suggested Butch.
The Captain sighed and turned to him. “Not just at the moment, Mr
Bradley,” he said, “but I’ll keep your suggestion in mind.” He swivelled back to
the screen and stared at the drifting warship. “So somebody has gone to the
trouble of bringing us across space to an empty ship,” he mused, stroking his
jaw. “Why?”
“Perhaps whoever is behind it wants to take us to Dulcodaz for some
reason,” Sprock suggested. “Since it’s the nearest planet.”
“That seems fairly logical, Mr Sprock,” the Captain said, smiling at him. “Do
we know anybody there?”
“Not to my knowledge, Jim.”
“Computer information on the planet Dulcodaz,” the Captain ordered
Crackers.
Mr Crackers typed in the request on his console and moments later the
observation screen changed to a view of Dulcodaz.
“The planet Dulcodaz lies at the heart of the Avalon System,” ran the
commentary. “It was subject to a study by the Federation during Stardates
75.1 to 75.3. Conclusions : Earth-like in structure, vegetation and
 30

temperature. No particular mineral or organic wealth. Populated by human

types of average intelligence. Lack of obvious financial incentive rules out any
further interest by the Federation.”
After several different close-ups of Dulcodaz the screen reverted to its
normal view.
“Not the most inspiring of planets,” the Captain remarked.
“My thoughts exactly,” agreed Sprock. “I can understand why the
Federation weren’t interested.”
“Well somebody appears interested in us,” said the Captain.
Sprock nodded then glanced at the warship which was back in view. “Your
intentions, Captain?” he asked.
Captain Kork stood up. “To beam aboard and investigate,” he replied.
Sprock arched an eyebrow. “Is that wise, Jim? It could be a trap.”
The Captain smiled at him. “We Earthlings differ in several ways from you
Bulcans,” he said. “My reason for beaming across to the warship
demonstrates one of them – curiosity!”
“In that case, Captain, may I accompany you?”
“Of course. I’d appreciate it if you would. Mr Crackers – lock us on to the
same course and speed as the warship. Lieutenant Youhoor – stand by to
beam us across. Mr Bradley – take charge till I return….and don’t blow
anything up.”
Butch grinned and snapped out a salute with the wrong hand.
The Captain and Mr Sprock slipped on their Transporter Bracelets and
strolled over to the Platform. When they were ready Youhoor punched in
some co-ordinates on her computer and flicked some switches. Instantly the
Captain and Mr Sprock were outlined in a shimmering white light which then
penetrated their entire bodies. They seemed to fragment into tiny pieces then
they vanished.
Butch Bradley leapt to his feet as soon as they’d gone. “It’s party time!” he
yelled. “Get the bar opened!”

PART THREE

On a monitor inside his room at the palace, Kharg watched the Captain and
Mr Sprock as they explored the empty bridge of his warship. His yellow eyes
glittered and the slit in his lower face opened in its usual facsimile of a smile.
“Soon we shall meet, Captain Kork!” he hissed triumphantly as he looked at
the screen. “And I will have my revenge for the past.”
With malicious satisfaction he watched their fruitless efforts to try to
discover why the ship was empty then he turned to a console and jabbed a
button.
The Captain and Mr Sprock were thrown to the floor of the bridge as the
warship shuddered to life and suddenly increased speed. They scrambled to
their feet and the Captain pulled out his Transceiver.
“Captain to the Orion,” he said into it.
“Yes sir?” Youhoor replied above the loud party music.
The Captain frowned. “What’s all that noise, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Jocky’s doing some repairs in the bridge,” Youhoor lied smoothly.
A trusting Captain believed her. “The warship’s started moving under its
own Drive,” he informed her. “Beam us back.”
 31

“Roger Captain - standby,” Youhoor replied. She swivelled round in her

seat and yelled to the partiers. “Captain’s coming back! Clear the Platform!”
Reluctantly, the dancers who had been boogying away on the Transporter
Platform stepped off and someone killed the music. The rest of the crew
moved smoothly into their practised regime and within a minute the bridge
was back to normal.
On the warship the Captain and Mr Sprock waited to be beamed back but
nothing seemed to be happening.
Impatiently the Captain flicked open his Transceiver again. “Captain to the
Orion. What’s the delay, Lieutenant?”
On the bridge a puzzled Youhoor was staring at the empty Transporter
Platform. “No delay, Captain,” she replied. “I beamed you back but nothing
happened. Is everything all right at your end?”
The Captain glanced at Mr Sprock. “Any ideas?” he asked.
“It’s probably been caused by somebody operating a Trans-Gyrational Anti-
Warp Booster,” replied Sprock. “It’s very simple really. It’s only a matter of
estimating the number of atoms available in each body and—“
“Sprock!” the Captain cut in. “I’ve got the message. Does that mean we’re
trapped here?”
“Affirmative Jim.”
“And heading towards Dulcodaz?”
“Looks like it.”
The Captain held up his Transceiver. “Did you get all that, Youhoor?”
“Yes sir,” she replied crisply. “We can’t beam you back. What are your
orders?”
“We’ll go on ahead at Warped Speed and bomb the shit out of Dulcodaz in
retaliation!” Butch suggested eagerly.
Captain Kork sighed wearily. “You’ll do no such thing, Mr Bradley,” he
ordered. “You will carry out my instructions to the letter – keep the Orion one
space mile behind us and increase speed only if we do. Understand?”
“Understood,” Butch replied disappointedly. “Friggin liberal,” he muttered to
himself.
The Captain flicked off his Transceiver and turned to his First Officer.
“Somebody seems determined to get us to Dulcodaz,” he remarked. “I wonder
why?”
Kharg, who had been watching events on a monitor, pointed a bony finger
towards the ivory casket sitting on top of the pyramid cube. “Because of the
Krystals!” he rasped in reply. “As you will soon discover, Captain James T.
Kork!”
 32

CHAPTER FOUR

“It’s a dead loss torturing some aliens. Soon as

you turn on the current they dissolve into a big
blob of jelly and slide all over the floor. Makes
one helluva mess of your boots. Klingers are
just the pits. They’re a real waste of time. No
brain – no pain, no pain – no fun!”

BUTCH BRADLEY
 33

PART ONE

CAPTAIN’S LOG : STARDATE 502.41

First Officer Sprock and I remain trapped aboard the empty warship as it
travelled towards Dulcodaz. During the journey the ship seemed to be
controlled by an external power and nothing we did could alter the bridge
controls. We remained in contact with the Orion and following my orders they
remained one space mile behind us. After travelling for an hour the warship
began to accelerate and Mr Zulu informed us that we were approaching
Dulcodaz.
SUPPLEMENTAL
We have now entered the planet’s atmosphere as has the Orion but the
warship doesn’t seem to be docking and is slowly orbiting Dulcodaz. Despite
repeated communication attempts both from ourselves and the Orion no reply
has yet been received from whoever brought us here.

PART TWO

Remaining just outside scanner range, the Klinger Mother Ship had
stealthily followed the Orion and the warship across space as they headed
towards Dulcodaz. Having been thwarted in his earlier attack plan, General
Draygo decided the time was ripe to implement his next one – beaming
across a couple of his warriors to the Orion on a suicide mission to kill Captain
Kork. Unfortunately for him he wasn’t aware that the Captain was still trapped
aboard the circling warship.
He rose from his chair on the bridge and summoned his First Officer. “Is the
suicide squad ready?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” the First Officer replied. “They’re over by the Transporter
Platform.”
Draygo nodded and strode across to where his two black leather clad
warriors were waiting. Dennis was the tall skinny one and Otto the short
stocky one.
“This is very brave of you men,” the General said gruffly to them. “You are a
credit to your race and your sacrifice will always be remembered. Good luck.”
Dennis and Otto grinned and stepped on to the Platform.
“Thanks sir,” said Dennis, brushing his long black hair away from his face.
“See you when we get back.”
Draygo saluted and turned away. Just as he was about to give the order to
activate the Transporter something suddenly occurred to him and he turned
back to them. “What did you just say?” he asked, his forehead frowning into
thick lines.
Dennis grinned. “See you when we get back, sir,” he repeated.
“What d’you mean when you get back?”
“When we get back from the mission, sir.”
 34

Draygo paused. “But you’re not meant to come back.”

Dennis’ thick eyebrows rose. “Not meant to come back, sir? What about the
presents?”
“What frigging presents!?” Draygo barked.
“The presents from the seaside.”
“The seaside!? What the hell’s the seaside got to do with the mission!?”
“We’re the seaside squad,” Dennis told him proudly and Otto nodded his
large head several times in agreement. “We heard you wanted a seaside
squad so we volunteered.”
“It’s not a seaside squad it’s a suicide squad, you prick!” roared Draygo.
“You’re beaming aboard the Orion to kill Captain Kork.”
Dennis and Otto glanced at each other.
“That sounds pretty dangerous, sir,” said Dennis.
“It is,” agreed Draygo. “You’ll probably get killed. That’s why it’s called a
suicide squad.”
Dennis and Otto had a low muttering conversation.
“If it’s all the same to you, sir,” Dennis said eventually, “ we’d rather go to
the seaside.”
“Yeah seaside!” grunted Otto, showing Draygo his bucket and spade. “Nice
sand, nice sea. Build sandcastle. Eat ice cream. Ha ha ha!”
“Shut up you thick bastard!” roared Draygo.
Otto’s face fell and his chin trembled. “Sorry sir,” he mumbled and hid his
head behind Dennis’ back.
“You’re not going to the seaside, you’re going to kill Kork!” Draygo barked
at them.
“Aw, do we have to?” asked Dennis.
The General lost his patience with them. He drew his laser pistol and
waved it under their noses.
Dennis sprang to attention and dragged Otto out from behind him. “It’s an
honour, sir,” he said proudly. “We’re on our way.”
Draygo prodded each of them with the laser. “If you come back,” he said
coldly, “you’re going down the rubbish chute. Understand?”
Dennis and Otto nodded.
Draygo stepped back from the Platform and waved to his First Officer.
“Beam them across,” he ordered.
Instantly, Dennis and Otto were outlined in a flashing blue light then they
shimmered and vanished.

PART THREE

On the warship, Captain Kork and Mr Sprock were also having problems.
Since there was still no response from whoever had brought them inside the
atmosphere of Dulcodaz, they had been trying to contact the Orion – only to
find there was no response from them either.
The Captain frowned and closed his Transceiver. “It’s no good,” he said. “It
looks as though our communication lines have been--”
“Captain!” interrupted Sprock. “The screen!”
The Captain glanced up at the observation screen. Until a few moments
ago it had been showing the usual view of space as they orbited Dulcodaz but
now there was a lot of interference across it. When it cleared the view of
 35

space was gone and a face was looking down at them. It was a thin face with
oval yellow eyes and a smooth domed head.
“Greetings, Captain James T. Kork,” rasped Kharg.
“Do you know him, Jim?” Sprock asked.
The Captain shook his head. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I am Kharg,” came the rasping reply.
“You seem to know me but I don’t recognise you,” said the Captain. “When
did we meet?”
“Our paths crossed some time ago,” rasped Kharg, “when you foolishly
interfered with my plans. This caused me considerable difficulty and I do not
tolerate interference lightly. I have waited patiently for revenge. Now I shall
have it, after I have taken what I need from you and your Bulcan friend.”
Puzzled, the Captain and Sprock glanced at each other.
“I have re-opened your communication line with your bridge crew,” Kharg
went on. “Tell them to maintain their orbit and not to try anything foolish. If
they do I shall obliterate the Orion.”
The Captain flicked open his Transceiver and relayed the message.
“Good,” rasped Kharg. “Now step on to the Transporter Platform. It is time
for us to renew our acquaintance.”

PART FOUR

As the Captain and Mr Sprock were beaming down to Dulcodaz, the lights
above the Transporter Platform on the Orion started flashing, indicating that
someone was beaming aboard. Remembering Kharg’s threat and thinking
that it was some of his men the crew took no action, passively waiting to see
what was going to happen.
The shimmering outline of two figures began to take shape, each carrying
what looked like a laser rifle. As the shapes grew stronger they could make
out two leather clad men who had high foreheads and shoulder length hair.
Butch Bradley was the first to recognise them. “Klingers!” he announced.
“What the hell are they doing here?”
“Maybe they’re working with Kharg,” suggested Youhoor.
The Klingers materialised completely and raised their rifles, covering the
crew.
“Want to go seaside!” grunted Otto, rattling his bucket and spade.
“Ssshhh! We’ll go later,” hissed Dennis. “Where’s Captain Kork?” he asked,
looking round the bridge.
“The Captain’s not here,” Butch told him.
“Oh?” said Dennis, slightly taken aback. “Where is he? Is he in the toilet?”
“Maybe he do dirty things!” grunted Otto, a disgusting smile on his face.
“Dirty things! Dirty things! Ha ha ha!”
Dennis cuffed him round the head. “I told you to stop thinking about that,”
he scolded. “You know what kind of state you get into. Now stop it.”
Otto hung his head and turned away from him.
“He used to be quite sensible you know,” Dennis said to the bridge crew.
“I find that difficult to believe,” muttered Butch, looking at the sulking Otto.
“Where is the Captain then?” Dennis asked.
“On Dulcodaz,” replied Butch.
“Will he be back soon?”
 36

“How the hell do I know, you thick prat,” Butch answered diplomatically.
“He’s been taken prisoner.”
Dennis looked disappointed. He turned to Otto and they had one of their
low, muttering conversations.
“Since the Captain’s not here,” Dennis eventually announced, “we’ve
decided to kill everybody, then ourselves. We’re a suicide squad,” he told
them proudly.
“Couldn’t you just kill yourselves then?” asked Butch.
Dennis’ thick eyebrows rose as he considered this new angle. He pursed
his lips and stroked one of the bumps on the side of his face. “Naaa,” he
decided. “General Draygo would find out about it.”
Butch sniggered. “So what? You’ll be dead anyway so what could he do to
you?”
“Ha! You don’t know Draygo!” Dennis retorted. “He’d get us all right. Real
bastard is Draygo, isn’t he Otto?”
“Yeah bastard,” agreed Otto, nodding several times. “No let me go seaside.
Bastard.”
“Oh shut up about the seaside,” Dennis snapped. He waved his laser about
in front of the crew. “Right everybody – hands up,” he ordered.
The bridge crew raised their hands. So did Otto.
Dennis did a double-take when he saw him. “Not you, stupid1” he said,
pulling his arms down. “We’re going to shoot them!”
“Shoot?” grunted Otto.
“Yeah shoot,” agreed Dennis. “Like at the fairground when you shoot the
ducks. Bang! Bang!”
Otto laughed. “Bang! Bang!” he said and loosed off a burst from his laser.
Everybody ducked. So did Dennis.
He rose and cuffed Otto round the head again. “Idiot! You could have hurt
somebody there,” he said angrily. “Watch what you’re doing with that bloody
rifle.” He turned back to the crew. “Everybody all right?” he inquired. “Nobody
hurt?”
Butch Bradley shook his head in amazement. “Only a Klinger would be
thick enough to ask if you were okay before he lasered you,” he muttered.
“Right hands up again everybody,” Dennis ordered.
The bridge crew raised their hands a second time and the Klinger suicide
squad readied itself. Just as the massacre was about to take place the bridge
door swished open and Hilda, the cleaning lady, came in carrying her mop
and bucket.
“Hoi!” she yelled at the Klingers. “I’ve just bloody well mopped that floor!”
Ugly though they were, even Dennis and Otto recoiled at the sight of the
elderly Hilda, her usual half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips.
She waddled over and inspected the Transporter Platform floor. “Look at
the bloody mess!” she yelled. “Dirty big footmarks all over the place!”
Dennis and Otto glanced down at the floor where there were lots of oily
smudges which could only have come from their boots.
“Sorry,” muttered Dennis.
“Sorry my arse!” snapped Hilda, stepping on to the Platform. “Look at the
state of that bloody floor. I’ll have to do it again.” She started prodding
aggressively at them with her mop handle. “Come on, get those boots off
before you mess up anything else.”
 37

“But we’re a suicide squad,” Dennis protested.

“Suicide’s what you’ll be commitin if you don’t get them bleedin boots off!”
retorted Hilda. “Move!”
Under severe pressure from the mop handle which was threatening to
invade their nether regions, Dennis and Otto sat on the edge of the Platform
and began to take their boots off.
Butch Bradley meantime had been following events closely and with the
Klingers pre-occupied he seized his opportunity and began sneaking closer to
the Platform behind the cover of some consoles.
With Dennis and Otto struggling to take off their heavy leather boots under
the watchful eye of Hilda he sprinted forward the last few yards and snatched
away the laser rifles.
He tossed one to Mr Zulu and they levelled them at the Klingers.
“So much for the crack suicide squad,” Butch said mockingly. “Hands up
you thick bastards.”
Dennis’ eyes widened when he realised what had happened. “Bloody hell,”
he said, standing up and raising his hands. “We’re in trouble now, Otto.
General Draygo will kill us when he hears about this!”

PART FIVE

Soon after Dennis and Otto had arrived on the Orion’s bridge, the Captain
and Mr Sprock materialised in Kharg’s room in the palace on Dulcodaz.
“Welcome!” rasped Kharg and bowed mockingly.
Sitting on a desk next to some monitors, Giraffe grinned at them and doffed
his top hat.
“I promised myself that one day I would meet you and have my revenge,
Captain James T. Kork!” Kharg rasped triumphantly. “Now that day has
arrived.”
“Is that why you brought us here – just for revenge?” asked the Captain.
“Not just for revenge,” replied Kharg. “You both have something I need.”
The Captain frowned. “What could I possibly have that you would need?”
“Knowledge!” hissed Kharg, his yellow eyes glittering. “Knowledge that will
one day allow me to destroy Earth and rule the Universe. That you will give
me this knowledge makes the revenge even sweeter.”
The Captain shook his head. “When we were brought here against our
wishes I had hoped that it might lead to something interesting,” he said, “but
it’s pretty obvious that you’re just another madman who wants to rule the
world.”
“Uh oh, you shouldn’t have said that,” warned Giraffe.
Kharg’s oval eyes narrowed. “You dare mock me, Captain? In your
position?”
“Oh good!” said Giraffe, grinning. “Some violence!”
Kharg slowly raised his right hand and extended his index finger. A thin
blue beam shot out and zapped into the Captain’s thigh. He screamed and
fell.
“Nice one, Kharg!” said Giraffe.
“Are you all right, Jim?” Sprock asked, helping him up.
 38

The Captain winced a little as he put his weight on his leg. “Fine, Mr
Sprock,” he replied, gingerly massaging the injured area. “So what do you
want from us?” he asked Kharg
“From you – the Pendant. From him – some Bulcan blood.”
“You require some blood from me?” Sprock asked, raising an inquisitory
eyebrow and thoughtfully stroking his jaw. “Am I to understand that the old
Bulcan legend might be true after all then?”
Kharg nodded.
“Then you must possess the Krystals.”
Kharg smiled, showing his thin pointed teeth. “Giraffe,” he rasped. “The
casket!”
As Giraffe was jumping down from the desk, Kharg flicked his bony fingers
at the cube pyramid and the misty blue light floating at the top of it vanished.
Giraffe ambled over, climbed up the glowing bricks and carefully removed
the intricately patterned casket. He brought it over and held it open for the
others to see. “The Krystals of Kharg,” he said, indicating the contents.
Puzzled, the Captain glanced at his First Officer, looking for an explanation.
“It’s an old Bulcan legend, Jim,” Sprock told him, seeing the look on his
face.
“Tell him it,” ordered Kharg, taking the casket from Giraffe and closing it.
“After the Universe was created,” Sprock began, “there was a struggle
between Good and Evil for supremacy. Good eventually won but in a final
malevolent act Evil managed to leave certain mysterious substances at
hidden points in different Galaxies. The substances possessed tremendous
powers of destruction and if they fell into the wrong hands they could be used
to wipe out large sections of the Universe.”
“So where are these…mysterious substances supposed to be?”
“They are very difficult to locate, so the legend runs. Each substance has a
separate set of clues which lead to it. In this case the possession of the
Krystals is necessary before the other clues can be revealed.”
“So why is some of your blood required?”
“If some Bulcan blood is mixed with the Krystals they evaporate and leave
a set of space co-ordinates. These lead to an exact location on a planet
where the second clue is revealed. The second clue is somehow supposed to
show the way through a Black Hole. It’s on the other side of the Black Hole
that one of the mysterious substances is thought to be located.”
The Captain smiled. “Quite a tale, Mr Sprock,” he said.
“I heard it as a child,” Sprock replied. “No-one ever believed it.”
“Until now!” rasped Kharg. “I already have the Krystals. Soon I will have the
blood. And you will give me the Pendant,” he told the Captain.
Captain Kork frowned. “You seem obsessed with this Pendant,” he said.
“What part does it play in the legend?”
“You will never know,” rasped Kharg, “but you can comfort yourself with this
thought – in giving it to me you will help me unlock a substance so powerful
that it will be enough to destroy Earth.”
“Why do you want to destroy Earth?”
“Revenge!” hissed Kharg. “For the Federation’s interference in my plans!
Now stand over against the wall and raise your arms and you,” he rasped at
Sprock, “sit in that chair.” He pointed at a high-backed wooden chair.
Having already witnessed Kharg’s powers, both complied.
 39

The Captain strolled over and stood with his back against the stone wall,
his arms held out against it. Kharg flicked his fingers at him and two thick
metal rings shot out of the wall and clamped round his wrists, holding him
prisoner.
Mr Sprock meantime had sat in the high-backed wooden chair, his hands
along the chair arms. Kharg flicked his fingers at him and two similar metal
rings shot out the arms, clamping his wrists and immobilising him as well.
Giraffe ambled over to Sprock carrying some equipment on a tray. “Special
effects are pretty good aren’t they?” he said conversationally.
He pulled one of Spock’s sleeves up and tied some rubber tubing round his
arm till the veins stood out then picked up a large silver needle from the tray.
“You’re now going to feel a little prick!” he said to Sprock and laughed.
Mr Sprock arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing.
“Get on with it!” Kharg rasped.
Giraffe bent over Sprock’s arm and after deciding which vein he would use,
plunged the needle into it. There was a small tap on the needle and he had
turned it off so the blood wouldn’t flow out. He taped the needle in place then
connected some clear tubing to the end of it and led it over to a table.
Kharg drifted over to the table with the casket and opened it. He carefully
emptied the Krystals into a long shallow metal tray and spread them out then
took the tubing from Giraffe.
“Open the tap,” he ordered.
Giraffe ambled over and turned the small tap on the needle. Immediately
Sprock’s black blood began to flow along the clear tubing and Kharg held the
end and dripped it over the Krystals.
“Enough,” he rasped when they were covered.
In the metal tray the blood began to hiss and bubble and hazy red smoke
rose from it. When the smoke cleared and the bubbling stopped the blood
began to dissolve. After it had disappeared completely the Krystals began to
evaporate. As they did, a set of space co-ordinates was revealed at the
bottom of the metal tray in large numbers.
Kharg looked in and memorised the co-ordinates, a triumphant smile on his
face. Unknown to him the eyes watching from a peephole in the ceiling did the
same before the co-ordinates vanished.
Giraffe disconnected the needle and tubing from Sprock as Kharg drifted
over, his eyes glittering with malevolent pleasure.
“I have the space co-ordinates,” he rasped, rubbing his bony hands
together. “Now I shall have the Pendant.”
He turned to the Captain and snapped his fingers. The metal rings pinning
his arms to the wall vanished and he massaged his wrists for a few moments
before strolling over to check on his First Officer.
“Damage report?” he asked, smiling.
“Exceptionally minor,” Sprock replied. “I’m all right, Jim.”
“Into the circle!” Kharg hissed at the Captain, indicating a yellow circle on
the stone floor.
Reluctantly the Captain walked over and stepped into it.
“Now where is the Pendant?” asked Kharg.
“What Pendant?”
“The one the old man gave you.”
The Captain frowned. “You mean on Vargas?”
 40

Kharg nodded.
“I don’t have it anymore,” the Captain told him truthfully. “The last time I
saw it was on Earth before the start of this mission. Either I lost it or it was
stolen.”
“We shall see,” rasped Kharg. He raised both hands above his head,
closed his eyes and concentrated.
Giraffe climbed onto Mr Sprock’s knees and sat there so he could see
better. “This bit should be good,” he said and held out a bag. “Popcorn?”
“Thank you,” Mr Sprock replied and tried to lift his hand then remembered it
was clamped to his chair.
Giraffe grinned and popped some into his mouth for him. “Can you see all
right?” he asked, munching happily.
“Quite well,” said Sprock through his popcorn.
From out of the ceiling directly above the Captain a cloud of small
shimmering gold stars appeared. They formed into a wide rippling circle which
gradually began to descend. Seeing it the Captain tried to move out of the
way but discovered he couldn’t lift his feet.
The circle of stars surrounded him and slowly passed over his body and
disappeared into the stone floor leaving him outlined in bright glowing gold.
Kharg opened his eyes and the Captain’s snapped shut.
“You are on Vargas,” Kharg told him. “Where did you get the Pendant?”
A large wall screen flickered to life as it began picking up images from the
Captain’s mind. He was on Vargas, one of the many small planets which had
Federation protection. The Orion had gone there in response to a distress
message from the planet which was under attack from several pirate ships.
After they had been driven off, Captain Kork was sitting by a crackling fire
with an old man, one of the planet’s Elders. The old man took off the Pendant
he was wearing and put it round the Captain’s neck.
“A gift?” he asked, smiling.
“More than that,” the old man said. “Keep it safe.”
“Safe from what?”
The old man stared into the fire. “There’s Evil in the Universe,” he said
tiredly. “It’s close. So close.”
The Captain frowned and looked at him across the crackling logs.
“The attack was only a diversion,” the old man said softly, pulling his cloak
tighter around him and glancing up at the night sky.
“A diversion?” the Captain asked. “For what?”
The old man said no more. He lapsed into silence and stared blindly at the
flames.
“A diversion for me!” hissed Kharg. “I needed the Pendant and I would have
had it if you Federation fools hadn’t interfered!”
The scene on the wall screen started to fade.
“When did you last see the Pendant?” Kharg asked the Captain.
The screen flickered to life again as his subconscious mind responded to
the question. This time it was Earth, a few nights before the Orion’s present
mission. Wearing a bathrobe, the Captain had just come out of the shower.
Ricky was in his room. The Captain wandered round, pulling open drawers
and looking in cupboards.
“What’s up?” drawled Ricky.
“I can’t find my Pendant,” the Captain told him.
 41

The two of them searched the room but couldn’t find it.
“Ah leave it,” drawled Ricky. “You’ve probably hidden it somewhere. We’ll
have a good look for it when we get back. Come on, we’re gonna be late for
dinner.”
“Okay,” agreed the Captain and went into his bedroom to dress.
As soon as the door closed Ricky slid a hand into his inside jacket pocket
and drew out the Pendant. “Should be able to get something interesting for
this!” he muttered, swinging it round on its chain.
The scene on the wall screen began to fade again and Kharg cursed. He
closed his eyes, stretched out his fingers towards the floor and began to raise
his hands. The shimmering circle of small gold stars reappeared and rose
over the Captain then floated up and vanished into the ceiling. Kharg snapped
his fingers and he opened his eyes.
“How are you, Jim?” Sprock asked.
The Captain shook his head and rubbed his temples. “A slight headache,”
he replied. “What happened?”
“You were hypnotised,” Sprock told him.
The Captain nodded in understanding and stepped out the yellow circle on
the floor.
“Your brother has the Pendant,” Kharg told him.
“Ricky!? How did he get it?”
“You can ask him when you return to your ship,” Kharg told him.
“You mean you’re letting us go?”
“Only you,” hissed Kharg. “Find the Pendant and bring it to me or your
Bulcan friend dies. Go!”
The Captain took out his Transceiver and flicked it open. “Captain to
bridge,” he said.
“Yes sir?” Lieutenant Youhoor replied immediately.
“Beam me aboard,” he ordered. “And have Ricky standing by on the bridge.
I need to see him urgently.” He closed his Transceiver and turned to Sprock.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “You can depend on that.”
Mr Sprock nodded and the Captain shimmered and vanished.
 42

CHAPTER FIVE

“Will the Klingers ever rule the Universe? Well

we’ve got thousands like Dennis and thousands
like Otto. So what do you think?”

GENERAL DRAYGO
 43

PART ONE

Ricky was waiting for the Captain when he materialized back on the bridge.
“Boy have I got some news for you,” he drawled as big brother stepped off the
Transporter Platform.
“And boy have I got some news for you!” big brother shot back angrily. “You
stole my Pendant!”
Ricky grinned at him. “Traded it,” he drawled casually.
“Traded it!” stormed the Captain. “My Pendant!? You know it’s got
something to do with the Evil, I mean you know I’m very fond of it. And you
traded it! What for?”
“Some exceptionally fine cigarettes,” Ricky replied. “Reality altering
cigarettes. Want to try one?”
“No I don’t,” snapped the Captain. “Who did you trade with?”
“Klingers.”
The Captain’s eyes widened. “Klingers! Arch-enemies of the Federation
and you’re trading with them?”
Ricky shrugged. “What the hell,” he drawled.
“Talking about Klingers,” Butch Bradley said as he wandered over, “we took
a couple of them prisoner when you were down on Dulcodaz. They beamed
aboard after you left. Seems they were sent to kill you. I’ve got them ready for
torturing.”
The Captain raised his eyes wearily to the ceiling. “Where are they?”
“Well I wanted to weld them to a metal post in the Repair Bay but that softy
Doctor Malloy insisted they go to the brig.”
“Hmm. Let’s go and see them. Perhaps they might know something about
the Pendant.”
“Where’s Queer Ears?” Butch asked.
“He’s still on--” began the Captain. “Mr Sprock is a prisoner on Dulcodaz.
He’s being held by an enemy of the Federation called Kharg. I have to get that
damn Pendant back before he’ll free him. Right, let’s go and see the prisoners
and you,” he ordered, pointing at Ricky, “come with us.”

PART TWO

“So remember,” Dennis said to Otto as they languished in the brig, “we are
Klingers. Fierce, proud warriors. The most feared in the Universe. So even if
they torture us we say nothing. Nothing. Got it?”
Otto glanced at Dennis with his big sad eyes and nodded miserably. He
clutched his bucket and spade closer for comfort. “No talk,” he agreed.
“Even if they pull our toenails off we say nothing,” continued Dennis.
Otto winced and curled up his toes inside his boots.
“We don’t give anything away,” Dennis went on. “Zero. The pride of the
Klinger warrior race is at stake. Listen! Here they come. Remember – not a
word.”
 44

A few moments later the brig door was unlocked. It swished open and the
Captain and the others walked in.
“Here they are, Captain,” Butch said, sneering at the prisoners. “The
Klinger scum we captured.”
“Afternoon gents!” Dennis said, a friendly smile on his ugly, lumpy face.
“Anything we can do for you? Anything we can help you with? Any secrets
you want to know?”
“No talk,” Otto grunted, pulling at his arm. “No talk.”
“Shut up,” said Dennis, pushing him away. “One of our Mother Ships is just
outside your scanner range,” he continued. “How’s that for starters?”
“A Klinger Mother Ship?” said the Captain, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s right,” agreed Dennis. “I’ll give you its exact location if you want plus
details of what weapons we have, how many crew are on board, what our
mission is. Anything you want to know, just ask. You never learn if you never
ask, that’s what I always say!”
“Who’s in command of the Mother Ship?” the Captain asked.
“General Draygo,” Dennis answered, pulling a face. “Real bastard isn’t he,
Otto?”
“Bastard,” agreed Otto. “No let me go seaside.”
“Hey Otto my man!” Ricky drawled, strolling over. “How’s it going?”
“Ricky!” grunted Otto, his thick features brightening as he recognised him.
“Do you two know each other?” the Captain asked, surprised.
“Sure,” replied Ricky, a friendly arm round Otto’s stocky shoulders. “I traded
the Pendant with him.”
“The Pendant!?” Captain Kork said quickly. “Does he still--”
“I can also give you details of where all the Klinger battle fleets are just
now,” cut in Dennis.
“Later,” said the Captain, waving him away. “Where is the Pendant now?”
he asked Otto.
Otto glared at him from beneath his thick eyebrows. “No tell,” he muttered,
drawing back and hugging his bucket and spade tighter.
Butch Bradley swaggered forward. “Let’s torture the bastard,” he
suggested. “Give me half an hour with him and he’ll sing like a bird. Reminds
me of the time we captured one of those--”
“Spare us the details, Mr Bradley,” the Captain interrupted.
“Would information about the new Klinger ship-to-ship codes be any use to
you gentlemen?” Dennis asked helpfully. “Or the spies the Klingers have in
the Federation?”
Butch took a step closer to him and stared menacingly into his eyes. “Ever
been tortured?” he growled.
Dennis swallowed and shook his head.
Butch grinned maliciously. “Want to be?”
Dennis shook his head again.
Butch’s grin vanished. “Well shut the hell up or you will be.”
Dennis’ eyes widened and he jumped back, temporarily silenced.
“I’ve got something here you might like, Otto,” Ricky said, slipping a hand
into his jacket. He drew out some glossy postcard-size pictures of naked
women and held them up.
Otto dropped his bucket and spade and made a lunge for them. Ricky
began backing off and Otto followed him, trying to grab the pictures.
 45

“You like these don’t you?” Ricky said, laughing and holding them up.
“Oh yeesss!!” grunted Otto, trying to grab them.
“Want them?”
“Yeesss!!”
“Still got the Pendant?”
“Yeah.”
“Trade you these for it.”
“Yeah! Yeah!”
“Where is it?”
“Cabin.”
“He means it’s in his cabin on the Mother Ship,” supplied Dennis, unable to
keep quiet any longer. “It’s next to mine on ‘D’ level. If you go--”
A glare from Butch silenced him.
“So the Pendant’s aboard the Klinger Mother Ship in Otto’s cabin,” mused
the Captain. “How do we get it back?”
“I could get it back for you!” Dennis piped up. “Be no trouble.”
“And I could go with him,” volunteered Ricky. “Since it was me who gave
the damn thing away.”
The Captain leaned against the wall and considered the proposal. “You
might get on to the Mother Ship,” he said, “but how would you get back?”
“Since we’re supposed to be on a suicide mission,” Dennis said, keeping a
watchful eye on Butch, “Draygo said he was putting us down the rubbish
chute if we came back – is that any help to you?”
Captain Kork stroked his chin as a plan began to take shape in his mind. “It
might just work,” he said eventually, glancing at Ricky and Otto who were
almost the same height. He pointed at Otto. “Get him out of his uniform,” he
ordered.
Otto was drooling over the photos Ricky had given him and put up no
resistance as Butch took his uniform, leaving him in his bright yellow
underwear.
The Captain flicked on the wall intercom. “Captain to bridge,” he said into it.
“Is Simon there?”
Moments later the ship’s Beautician, Simon, answered. “Ye-es my
Captain?”
“We’re going to need your help,” the Captain told him. “Could you make
Ricky look like a Klinger?”
“A Klinger!?” Simon’s effeminate voice asked. “You mean all that bushy
eyebrows and lumps on the face stuff?”
“That’s right.”
“Hmmm. I think so.”
“I could do a lobotomy on him,” Doctor Malloy piped up. “Make him more
like the real thing.”
The Captain smiled. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Doctor,” he
replied. “He’s half-way there already.”
Ricky laughed and slapped Dennis on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fellow Klinger
warrior,” he said. “I think big brother has a job for us.”

PART THREE
 46

Ricky and Dennis were waiting on the Transporter Platform to be beamed

across to the Klinger Mother Ship. Ricky was wearing Otto’s uniform and after
some make-up work by Simon which included a high false forehead and a few
lumps and bumps stuck on to his face, he looked a passable Klinger. He was
only a little taller than Otto which helped as did his long hair which had been
dyed black to complete the disguise.
“Ready?” he asked Dennis.
Dennis grinned and gave him the thumbs up.
Ricky nodded to Captain Kork who had temporarily put himself in charge of
the Transporter Platform and was sitting beside Lieutenant Youhoor. Slowly
he slid both Transporter levers forward and Ricky and Dennis shimmered and
vanished. Soon afterwards they materialised aboard the Mother Ship.
A surprised General Draygo swivelled round in his chair to see who was
arriving. “What the hell are you two doing back!?” he roared, seeing who it
was.
His crack suicide squad shuffled uneasily, Ricky/Otto nervously clutching
his bucket and spade.
“Captain Kork wasn’t there,” Dennis told him.
Draygo’s thick brow furrowed. “He wasn’t there? Where was he?”
“On Dulcodaz,” Dennis told him.
“Why?”
“Kharg’s got him,”
“Kharg!” Draygo exclaimed and stood up. “So he’s back? What the hell’s he
up to this time?”
Kharg and the Klingers were old friends/enemies. Their paths had crossed
many times in the past, their relationship dependant on whether they were
helping with or hindering each others plans.
Pondering what he might be up to Draygo started pacing round the bridge,
hands clasped behind his back, thick chin resting on his chest.
Seeing their opportunity Ricky nudged Dennis and they stepped off the
Transporter Platform and began edging their way over to the bridge door.
They almost made it. Just as the door was about to swish open Draygo
beckoned to a Sergeant.
“Put those two down the rubbish chute,” he ordered casually, jerking a
thumb at them.
The Sergeant grinned and saluted. “Yes sir,” he said. “Be my pleasure.” He
drew his laser pistol then marched over to Ricky and Dennis and escorted
them out.

PART FOUR

“Ever wonder where we all came from? Where we’re all going? What the
purpose of it all is?” the Captain asked Lieutenant Youhoor.
They were sitting at Youhoor’s console waiting for Ricky’s signal so he and
Dennis could be beamed back.
The Captain glanced over at the observation screen. “All those planets and
atmospheres and suns and moons,” he went on. “There must have been
some planning behind all that.”
 47

“Yes Captain,” agreed Youhoor, suppressing a yawn. She had heard

monologues like this from the Captain before and they usually had the same
effect on her.
“So if you accept that there’s planning then that implies an intelligent mind,”
he went on. “Something far superior to ourselves.”
Youhoor felt her eyelids getting heavier.
“A mind so far beyond our comprehension that even our most intelligent,
most advanced people would be like retarded flies compared to it.”
Youhoor closed her eyes for a few seconds then caught herself before she
dozed off.
“But why?” went on the Captain, oblivious to the effect he was having on
her. “Why was it all created in the first place? What direction does this vastly
superior mind want us to take? How do we know we’re heading the right
way?”
Lieutenant Youhoor fought gamely to keep her eyes open but the narcotic
effect of the Captain’s soliloquy combined with the cosines of the bridge were
too much for her and eventually she gave up the struggle and surrendered to
the warm blackness.

PART FIVE

“Want my teddy!” grunted Ricky in a passable Otto voice.

The Sergeant sniggered. “I wouldn’t worry about your teddy, old son,” he
said. “You’re going down the rubbish chute. As soon as you’re out the ship
you’re space dust.”
“Want teddy,” Ricky grunted stubbornly and halted.
“Oh come on,” the Sergeant snapped, trying to pull him along the corridor.
Ricky wouldn’t budge.
“We might as well get it,” Dennis suggested. “It’ll only take a couple of
minutes. Otherwise you’ll have to laser him right here.”
“Oh all right!” snapped the Sergeant, tired of trying to budge Ricky. “Let’s
go.”
The trio changed direction and made their way down to Otto’s cabin. When
they entered, Dennis rushed over to Otto’s bunk to pick up the teddy, clumsily
knocking over a table and distracting the Sergeant. This gave Ricky time to
open a drawer, take out the Pendant and pocket it.
“Okay out!” ordered the Sergeant, shoving Dennis and a teddy-cuddling
Ricky into the corridor.
They made their way back up to the rubbish chute and the Sergeant
opened the hatch.
“After you,” he said, grinning.
Dennis, Ricky and teddy climbed in and the Sergeant secured the hatch,
waving to them through the thick glass.
“Bye,” he mouthed.
“Bye,” mouthed Ricky, waving one of teddy’s paws at him.
The Sergeant shook his head and pressed a wall button. An airtight hatch
inside the long rubbish chute opened and they started to slide down.
Ricky grinned and brought out his Transceiver. “Okay big brother,” he said
into it, “beam us back.”
 48

PART SIX

“When you really think about it deeply, it changes you,” big brother was
saying.
Lieutenant Youhoor had dozed off. So had half the bridge crew. The rest
were listening in a hypnotic stupor to the Captain’s monologue so no-one
heard Ricky’s message.
“Yes it changes you,” the Captain went on. “I mean once you acknowledge
the fact that there is a superior Force you say to yourself--”
“Beam us back,” Ricky repeated.
“…beam us back. Yes beam us back,” the Captain droned on. “We’re tired
of all this. And we’re curious. Damned curious. We want to meet You. We
want You to--”
“Bring us back!” Ricky pleaded as he and Dennis hurtled down the rubbish
chute.
“…bring us back. Yes we want You to bring us back,” agreed the Captain,
nodding. “We want to meet You. To be with You. So if it means--”
“We’re going to die!” Ricky yelled.
“…we’re going to die, that’s okay with us. After all what is death anyway? A
brief moment when one door closes and another opens. So why be afraid?”
That was when Lieutenant Youhoor began to slide off the edge of her chair.
“Uh?” she muttered, catching herself at the last moment. She came to and
rubbed her eyes. Still half-asleep she caught sight of the flashing light on her
console. “Shit!” she said and pulled back the Transporter levers.
“Aaarrrggghhh!!!” yelled Ricky and Dennis in unison as they shot out the
end of the rubbish chute.
Seconds before they fulfilled the Sergeant’s predictions and became space
dust they shimmered and disappeared. Moments later they materialized on
the Orion.
“So death shouldn’t really frighten us,” the Captain droned on, winding up
his speech and still unaware of what had happened. “We should just look
upon it as a crossing, nothing more.”
Lieutenant Youhoor nudged him and pointed to the Platform.
“Shit, that was pretty fine,” Ricky said to him as he stepped off.
“Oh it was nothing,” the Captain replied modestly. “Just my usual thoughts.
Did you get the Pendant?”
Ricky removed it from his pocket and tossed it over to him.
The Captain examined the Pendant and after satisfying himself that it was
the one which the old man had given him on Vargas he flicked open his
Transceiver and contacted Kharg. “I have the Pendant,” he told him.
“Very good,” Kharg rasped. “Come down.”
The Captain hesitated. “What guarantee do I have that you’ll set us free
afterwards?” he asked.
“Guarantee?” hissed Kharg. “You’re in no position to demand guarantees. I
have the Bulcan. Bring the Pendant down now or he dies.”
“He’s right, sir,” said Youhoor. “You don’t have much choice.”
The Captain sighed. “Okay I’m beaming down,” he told Kharg and closed
his Transceiver.
 49

He stepped on to the Transporter Platform and nodded to Youhoor. She

pushed the lever forward on her console and a few seconds later the Captain
was back in Kharg’s room on Dulcodaz.
“So you have it!” Kharg rasped, his yellow eyes glittering as he saw the
Pendant.
“Free Mr Sprock and it’s yours,” the Captain said, holding it up.
Kharg turned and flicked a finger at the chair where Sprock was held
prisoner. Immediately the metal bands round his wrists sprang apart then
disappeared into the wood.
“Thank you, Jim,” Sprock said, standing up and massaging his wrists.
“The Pendant!” hissed Kharg impatiently.
The Captain handed it to him and Kharg drifted over to a light and
examined it closely.
“At last I have it!” he hissed triumphantly, turning it over and over with his
long bony fingers.
Unknown to him the same eyes as before were once again watching from
the tiny peephole in the ceiling.
The Captain flicked open his Transceiver. “Get ready to beam us up,
Lieutenant,” he instructed.
Kharg glanced over at him. “Fool!” he rasped. He raised a finger and a thin
blue beam shot out and zapped into the Transceiver, shattering it. He pointed
at the Captain’s wrist and another beam shot out and shattered his
Transporter Bracelet.
Sensing it was useless to resist, Sprock froze and his Bracelet received the
same treatment.
As the two of them cradled their bruised wrists Kharg drifted over to the
arched doorway. He turned, closed his eyes and extended all his fingers at
the stone floor around them.
“Oh shit!” muttered Giraffe, hanging on to his top hat and rushing over to
the shelter of the doorway.
Suddenly there was an ominous rumbling sound from under the floor and it
started to shake. The rumbling grew louder and the Captain and Mr Sprock
were knocked off their feet as the floor began bucking and heaving. A crack
appeared in it and grew wider, leaving a yawning chasm between them and
Kharg.
“Quickly, over here, Sprock!” the Captain shouted as they scrambled to
their feet.
Before Sprock could move the floor rumbled and cracked again. Another
wide gap appeared and they were separated. Large jagged sections of the
floor began to fall away taking with them consoles and monitors and the
pyramid of glowing cubes. Everything crashed down into the depths throwing
up clouds of choking, blinding dust.
The rumbling and cracking stopped as quickly as it had begun and when
the dust had cleared the Captain and Mr Sprock were left standing on two
narrow pillars, all the rest of the floor having fallen away.
Kharg looked over at then from the arched doorway. “You’re both free to
go,” he rasped and his harsh laughter echoed round the cavernous room. He
turned and pressed a wall button and the arched door slid up. “Come Giraffe,”
he commanded, drifting through.
 50

Giraffe took a small, careful step closer to the edge of the chasm and
peered down. He whistled appreciatively and shook his head. “Wow!” he said.
“That’s definitely the best special effects yet!” He glanced over at the Captain
and Mr Sprock, grinned at them and tipped his hat. “Bye gents,” he said then
turned and ambled after his master as the arched door slid shut.

CHAPTER SIX

“Do I love big brother? Of course I do. We’re

family. Close family. That doesn’t stop me
having a good snigger at him though when he
makes an arse of himself!”

RICKY
 51

PART ONE

Captain Kork leaned forward and peered down into the black depths. His
slight movement caused more of the pillar he was standing on to crumble
away and they heard the pieces bounce and crash to the bottom.
“It certainly is a long way down, Jim,” Mr Sprock remarked.
“Agreed,” replied the Captain, careful not to move again. “Have you any
suggestions?”
Sprock shook his head and they were both silent awhile as they cautiously
looked round, each trying to find a way out of their seemingly impossible
predicament.
They were both standing on very narrow pillars, ten feet apart and twenty
feet from the safety of the arched doorway. Above them, from the peephole in
the ceiling, the eyes continued to watch.
“Of course there may be a logical explanation for all of this, Captain,”
Sprock said eventually, staring into the chasm.
“Which is?”
“That this is a completely erroneous interpretation presented to our optical
nerves.”
The Captain frowned at him.
“An optical illusion, Jim,” Sprock said, translating himself.
Some more stone crumbled away from around the Captain’s feet and
crashed into the depths.
“It’s a very believable optical illusion, Mr Sprock,” he said.
“Most of them are, Jim.”
“So what is your explanation then?”
“I think we may have been hypnotised by Kharg.”
“Hypnotised? I wasn’t aware of any eye contact with him for any length of
time.”
“I don’t think he would have used that method, Jim. He’s too clever for that.
I think he’s probably done it on a subconscious level without us being aware
of it.”
“Would he be capable of that?”
Sprock nodded. “You saw how easily he imprisoned us earlier – you
against the wall, me in the chair and I saw how he infiltrated your memory to
find out the whereabouts of the Pendant. To a man who wields that kind of
power, subconscious hypnosis would be a distinct possibility.”
“All right, I accept your reasoning, Mr Sprock,” the Captain said. “Kharg has
us hypnotised into believing the floor isn’t there. How do we undo the
hypnosis?”
“There’s only one way, Jim,” replied his First Officer. “By concentrating. We
have to concentrate hard and convince our subconscious that the floor is
actually there.”
 52

“Considering our lack of alternatives it’s certainly worth a try,” said the
Captain.
“Considering that it’s our only alternative it’s certainly worth a try,” Sprock
said wryly.
The Captain smiled at him and they both closed their eyes and
concentrated.
‘I have not been hypnotised, I refuse to be hypnotised,’ thought Sprock over
and over again, trying to regain control of his logical Bulcan mind. ‘I have not
been hypnotised. I have not been hypnotised.’
‘The floor between Sprock and me is still there,’ thought the Captain, trying
to regain control of his emotional Earthling mind. ‘The floor is still there. The
floor is still there.’
Above them, the eyes continued to watch through the peephole.
After several minutes hard concentration the Captain and Sprock opened
their eyes and looked round. There was still ten feet of empty space between
them and twenty feet of empty space to the arched doorway.
A little twinge of doubt began gnawing away in the Captain’s mind.
“Shouldn’t the floor have returned?” he asked.
“Not necessarily,” Sprock replied confidently. “The hypnosis is probably on
two levels – optical and cerebral. If my theory is correct we should have
defeated the cerebral hypnosis although the optical may remain which means
the floor is actually there although our eyes don’t see it.”
“So how do we test your theory?”
Sprock took a pen from his pocket and carefully knelt down. “I’m going to
roll this across to you,” he said. “If my theory is correct it should reach you.”
He laid the pen on the solid ground next to his foot and checked his aim
then rolled the pen hard and let go. It ran quickly over his small pillar then
continued across seemingly empty space. It rolled smoothly across the ten
foot chasm which separated them then ran on to the Captain’s small pillar,
bumping against his boot.
“Your theory seems to be correct,” he said, bending down and retrieving the
pen.
“It does,” agreed Sprock. “Now for the real test.”
Still keeping one foot and most of his weight on the narrow pillar he
stretched out his other foot and placed it where the next part of the floor
should have been. It seemed solid enough and he tapped it several times with
his boot, the echo ringing round the cavernous room.
“Sounds as if it’s there,” remarked the Captain.
“Agreed,” replied Sprock and stepped out fully.
The ‘empty space’ held and without looking down he walked quickly across
the ten feet of apparent void and joined the Captain on his pillar.
“Well done, Mr Sprock,” he said, smiling at him.
“Thank you, Captain,” Sprock replied, “but let’s not congratulate ourselves
too quickly. There still remains the problem of how we get back to the Orion.”
“I suggest we concentrate on the next piece of the floor first,” said the
Captain.
Sprock nodded and the two of them closed their eyes again and
concentrated. After a couple of minutes they opened their eyes and looked
round. Twenty feet of empty space remained between them and the safety of
the arched doorway.
 53

Sprock repeated his test with the pen and as before it rolled smoothly
across the chasm. Confidently, he stepped out from the pillar and walked
smartly across seemingly thin air to the solid ground by the doorway.
He turned and looked back across. “Your turn, Jim,” he said.
A little nervously, the Captain peered down. It was a long, long way to the
bottom.
“You have to believe the floor’s still there,” Sprock said encouragingly,
sensing his indecision.
“I do believe it’s there,” the Captain replied. “It’s just that…” he trailed off
and peered down again.
“You saw me walking across the first section, didn’t you?” Sprock asked.
“Yes.”
“And you saw me walking across the second section?”
The Captain nodded.
“Do you doubt the evidence of your own eyes?”
The Captain sighed. “Maybe your belief is stronger than mine,” he said.
“Nonsense Jim,” said Sprock. “We both accepted the fact that we were
hypnotised. We both concentrated hard to remove one level of the hypnosis
and we succeeded. Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it
isn’t there – after all the strange experiences we’ve had on our travels I
shouldn’t have to remind you of that. Now do you believe the floor exists?”
“Of course.”
“Then keep believing and step out.”
Realising it was now or never the Captain took a couple of deep breaths
and fixed his eyes on Mr Sprock. He steeled himself and without looking down
stepped off the pillar.
And fell into the chasm.

PART TWO

Unaware that Kharg and Giraffe had already left Dulcodaz, a second
elderly Astronomer hurried along the path from the Observatory to the Palace.
He had taken over from the now deceased first elderly Astronomer and
although he had some urgent news for Kharg he was determined not only to
reap the rewards but also to avoid the pitfalls of his predecessor.
In other words he wanted to deliver the message about the Klinger Mother
Ship hanging around without getting blown away in the process.
He had managed to acquire a key to the heavy outer door of the Palace
and he slid it into the lock and turned it. The thick metal door creaked open
and he peered in cautiously. The replacement Guard was lying in a drunken
stupor against the wall, several empty wine bottles scattered around him.
The old Astronomer smiled toothlessly and sneaked in. Leaving the heavy
door ajar in case it’s creaking should rouse the Guard he began tiptoeing
across the straw covered floor.
“Mind passing me my supper?” the prisoner chained to the wall asked.
“Ssshhh!!” hissed the old man, pointing at the snoring Guard.
“Sorry,” whispered the prisoner. “My supper.”
“Oh where is it?”
“In the bucket.”
 54

The old Astronomer picked up the bucket and threw the vile, evil smelling
contents over him.
“Aaahhh, nectar!” the prisoner muttered blissfully, licking at the mess as it
dripped down his face.
The old Astronomer shook his head in disgust and tiptoed on. The next
barrier between him and Kharg was the young replacement Captain and he
made his way silently up the short corridor and listened intently for a few
moments at his room door.
He heard some strange sounds coming from within the room and uncertain
as to what they were he pressed his ear tighter against the door, trying to
identify them.
Half a minute later he was still as puzzled, so very very gently he opened
the door a fraction and peered in. His eyes widened at what he saw and he
drew his head back quickly, fighting to control the laughter which overtook
him.
He managed to suppress his laughter and wiping a tear from his eye he
tiptoed into the room, one hundred percent confident that he wasn’t going to
be stopped.
Over in the corner, stripped to the waist and oblivious to the world, the
young replacement Captain and another Guard were locked in a passionate
embrace, grunting slurping noises coming from them.
The old Astronomer turned for another look and with his elderly shoulders
shaking in silent laughter, he tiptoed on.
Only one more barrier between him and his reward – the Major. Getting
past him was not going to be this easy.

PART THREE

‘I’m holding on to a ledge that isn’t there,’ Captain Kork thought to himself
as he dangled in space.
He glanced down into the deep black chasm beneath him. Now that was
real. He could see it, could sense its depth, could almost imagine himself
falling into it. He swallowed and closed his eyes.
Having seen the Captain fall, Sprock had immediately rushed out across
the ‘empty space’ again. “Easy Jim,” he said, kneeling down. “Grab my arm.”
The Captain opened his eyes and glanced up. Holding on with one hand he
grabbed Sprock’s wrist with the other. He found a toehold and with Sprock
pulling him, he slowly climbed up the face that wasn’t there.
When he was half-way on to the pillar Sprock grabbed him round the waist
and heaved him over. They took a few moments to catch their breath then
scrambled to their feet.
“A close call, Jim,” Sprock remarked.
The Captain forced a smile. “I think I stopped believing there for a little
while,” he admitted. “Shall we continue?”
“Certainly,” agreed his First Officer. He turned and once more began
walking confidently over the ‘empty space’ to the safety of the arched
doorway. “You see,” he said. “No problem.”
Without looking down the Captain began walking across.
“Keep believing, Jim!” Sprock called encouragingly.
 55

“I believe! I believe! I believe!” the Captain repeated, chanting aloud each

time he put his foot down.
This time he made it and he leaned against the arched door, sighing with
relief.
“My theory and the floor both held up,” Sprock remarked.
The Captain nodded. “It’s amazing what a bit of belief will do,” he said,
staring at the chasm they’d just walked across. “We’ll have to warn the crew
when we get back in case Kharg tries any more hypnosis on us.”
“A good point,” said Sprock. “Hypnosis from a distance is possible. If any of
the crew are susceptible to--”
A burst of applause from above them interrupted their conversation.
“Who the hell is that?” the Captain asked, looking up.
“Hi guys!” a familiar voice shouted.
The Captain frowned. “Ricky!?” he yelled. “Is that you!?”
“Sure is, big brother!” came the reply.
“How did you get here?”
“I beamed down just after you so Kharg wouldn’t spot anything.”
“You mean you’ve been watching us all the time?”
“Yep!”
“Why didn’t you let us know you were there after Kharg left?”
“And miss the show!? Don’t be silly!” Ricky replied, laughing. “You two were
magic – all that concentrating and falling into space stuff!”
“Prick,” muttered Mr Sprock.
“Agreed,” said the Captain.
“Stand clear!” yelled Ricky. “I’m going to widen this peephole.”
As the Captain and Sprock took cover in the arched doorway there was a
blue laser flash above them and some rocks crashed down on to the floor
which wasn’t there.
Ricky waved away some smoke and peered through the gap. “You’ll need
this!” he shouted, tossing something down to them.
“A Transporter Bracelet!” the Captain said, catching it.
Another followed for Sprock then a Transceiver.
“I’d better contact the Orion immediately,” the Captain said. “The crew are
probably concerned about us.”
Aboard the Orion quite a nice little party was in full swing on the bridge. The
exceptionally concerned crew were consoling themselves with a lot of booze,
dancing and music.
“Captain to bridge,” the familiar voice said from a speaker on Lieutenant
Youhoor’s console.
“Oh Christ,” she muttered, putting down her drink and shoving an amorous
Ensign away. “Bridge to Captain,” she replied.
“Get ready to beam us up, Lieutenant…what’s all that noise?”
Calmly, Youhoor covered her microphone. “Captain’s coming back!” she
yelled.
Immediately the crew swung into their well-rehearsed routine of clearing up
the bridge before he returned.
Youhoor uncovered her microphone and with her thumb and index finger
clamped on her nose she made some strange distorted noises into it.
“Hello Lieutenant, are you receiving me?” the Captain asked.
 56

“Bridge to Captain,” she replied smoothly. “There seems to be some

interference on the line, sir.”
“Is there? That’s probably what I heard to start with. Can you hear me
now?”
Youhoor glanced round the bridge. It was just about back to normal. “Yes, it
seems to be clearer now, sir,” she answered.
“Prepare to beam us back then.”
“And me!” yelled Ricky.
“And my brother as well. Beam him back first,” the Captain said wearily and
closed his Transceiver.

PART FOUR

‘Strange,’ thought the old Astronomer as he peered round the door of the
Major’s suite. ‘No sign of the bugger. Where is he?’
He sneaked across the outer room and glanced round the open door of his
office then quickly drew his head back – the Major was sitting at his desk over
by the window!
‘Damn!’ thought the old Astronomer. ‘How do I get past him?’
As he was trying to think of a way round the problem something suddenly
occurred to him. In the quick glance he’d taken round the door, the Major
wasn’t exactly sitting at his desk, he was slumped across it.
‘Maybe he’s asleep,’ thought the old Astronomer and peered round again.
The Major hadn’t moved. True he was still sitting in his chair but he was
slumped forward, his head resting comfortably on a mound of papers.
The old Astronomer listened but there were no tell-tale snoring noises.
Plucking up his courage he tiptoed in.
A closer inspection revealed that the Major definitely wasn’t sleeping. Well,
he was in a way but there was no chance of him waking up – a round hole in
the centre of his forehead indicated he’d been shot with a laser.
The old Astronomer frowned. Who the hell would have killed the Major? He
thought about it for a few moments then his frown cleared and he grinned.
Who cared about the Major? He would now be able to deliver this piece of
news to Kharg along with the message about the Klinger Mother Ship!
He rubbed his arthritic hands with glee! Two pieces of important news for
him to deliver and he’d made it past all the obstacles. Kharg should be well
pleased and he should be well rewarded.
He walked over to the far wall and pressed the button. The arched entrance
slid up and he jumped back – two strangers were standing in the doorway.
Panic filled his elderly breast. Was he now at the very last moment to be
prevented from seeing Kharg because of these ridiculously dressed
interlopers? Damned if he would be!
“I want to see Kharg!” he demanded angrily.
“That’s impossible,” the short one told him.
“I bloody well want to see him!” the old Astronomer retorted defiantly. “I
have some important news for him.”
“You can’t see him,” the one with the pointy ears said.
“Can’t, my arse!” the old Astronomer shot back belligerently. “You’re trying
to steal my reward, you bastards!” He bent his head and charged. “Out of my
way!” he yelled. “I have to see Kharg!”
 57

Oddly enough the two strangers quickly moved apart as he rushed through
the doorway.
“I have to see Kharg!” he yelled as he raced past them. “I have to see
Khaaarrrggghhh!!” his voice echoed as he fell headlong into the chasm.
The echoes died away then there was a distant thud. The Captain cringed
when he heard it but Mr Sprock was more philosophical.
He peered down into the black depths and shrugged. “Obviously a non-
believer,” he remarked dryly.
 58

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Ah’ve modified the Orion’s engines so they run

on diesel! My God, the fuel we use when we’re
travellin at Warped Speed! Since Ah’m the Chief
Engineer, Ah collect the Bonus Points when we
fill up at Space Stations. Ah’ve enough Points
saved for a grand wee holiday on Mars after this
mission!”

JOCKY
 59

PART ONE

Aboard the Klinger Mother Ship General Draygo had been monitoring
events closely. His desire to kill Captain Kork had been temporarily eclipsed
by the stronger desire to find out what Kharg was up to, especially as it might
lead to something advantageous, Kharg not being the type to waste his time
pursuing trivia.
The General had seen him leaving Dulcodaz and had no choice but to
follow which left him with a slight problem – how to take care of Kork and the
Orion.
The problem had been solved when Corporal Brick and Private Partz had
‘volunteered’ to stay behind in another small attack ship and do the job.
Satisfied with this alternative plan but with heavy reservations regarding its
successful outcome, Draygo had gone after Kharg, leaving them in position
just outside Dulcodaz, invisible under their Cloak.
“So when would be the best time to attack?” Private Partz asked, staring
out the attack ship’s small observation window at the endless blackness of
space.
“Dawn,” Corporal Brick announced confidently.
Private Partz furrowed his thick brow. “Dawn?”
“Yeah, dawn,” Corporal Brick repeated. “All be half-asleep, won’t they?
Won’t be expecting anything.”
“Oh yeah!” said Private Partz, his thick brow unfurrowing. “That’s quite
good that. I’d never have thought of it.”
“I know, that’s why you’re still a Private and I’m a Sergeant.”
Private Partz gazed admiringly at the two stripes on Corporal Brick’s arm.
“So that’s what you are then – a Sergeant?”
“Yeah that’s right, a Sergeant.”
Private Partz stared out the observation window for a few moments, deep
in difficult concentration. “I always though it was four stripes for a Sergeant?”
he said at last.
“Naaa,” scoffed Corporal Brick. “That’s a Captain.”
“Oh is it?” the Private said, nodding. He glanced down at his own arm
which was bereft of any markings of rank. “Think I might get a stripe after this
job?” he asked.
“More than that,” the Corporal replied confidently. “You’ll probably get to be
a Major or something.”
“A Major!” Private Partz said excitedly. “Wow! What would you get to be?”
Brick pursed his thick lips. “A Lieutenant probably.”
“A Lieutenant? That means I’d be above you.”
Lieutenant Corporal Brick nodded.
Major Private Partz stared out the observation window again, deep in
thought. “Shouldn’t you start calling me ‘sir’ then?” he asked eventually.
“What now?” grumbled Brick.
 60

“Yeah. We might as well make a start.”

Brick sighed. “Oh all right then….what’s the plan, sir?”
Major Partz puffed out his chest importantly. “I’ve decided to attack at
dawn, Lieutenant.”
“Dawn?”
“Yes, dawn. They won’t be expecting us then.”
Lieutenant Brick nodded. “Good idea, sir,” he said.
Satisfied with their plan, the Major and the Lieutenant stared out the
observation widow for a while.
“When we get back to the Mother Ship after this mission,” Major Partz said,
breaking the silence, “will we have to go through that ceremony?”
“What ceremony is that, sir?”
“You know – the one General Draygo has after he rewards people when he
puts them down that chute.”
“Oh yeah. The rubbish chute, he calls it. Got a great sense of humour
hasn’t he?”
“He sure has – the rubbish chute!”
The Major and the Lieutenant joined in some comradely laughter at their
leader’s wit.
Then Major Partz frowned. “You know when people get rewarded and go
down the rubbish chute,” he said, “well how come we never see them again?”
“Because they get posted,” the Lieutenant replied knowingly.
“Posted?”
“Yeah. They get posted to another ship. Comes with the promotion.”
“Oh I see. Will that happen to us?”
“Probably.”
His questions answered for the time being, the Major glanced out the
observation window. “It’s not getting any lighter is it?” he remarked.
“Na,” replied the Lieutenant. “Dawn takes a long time to break in space. I’ve
noticed that. We’ll just have to be patient, sir.”
So the Major and the Lieutenant settled back in their seats and patiently
waited for the breaking of dawn. And waited. And waited. And waited.

PART TWO

On the bridge of the Orion, Captain Kork was quizzing Ricky about how he
managed to get down to Dulcodaz without being spotted.
“So you beamed down just after us and hoped Kharg wouldn’t notice?” the
Captain asked.
Ricky, still in his Klinger disguise, grinned and nodded. “Yeah. I thought old
yellow eyes would be too engrossed in finding out where the Pendant was to
bother checking his scanners.”
“It’s a pity you hadn’t beamed down the first time as well when those co-
ordinates Kharg needed were revealed.”
“I did,” Ricky replied casually. “That’s when I found the side entrance to the
Palace. It must’ve been used ages ago. There was a narrow passage inside it
which led up to a small chamber above the room Kharg was using. There was
a small peephole in the floor – they probably used it in the past for spying.”
“So you were in the same place both times you beamed down?” the
Captain asked.
 61

“Yep.”
“You didn’t happen to see the co-ordinates when Kharg added Mr Sprock’s
blood to the Krystals, did you?”
“Yep.”
Sprock raised an eyebrow in admiration as Ricky reeled off the numbers.
“Did you get all that, Mr Zulu?” the Captain asked quickly.
“Yez Boz,” Zulu’s rich deep voice replied.
“Where do they lead to?”
“It’s obviously going to be where Kharg is heading for,” Sprock remarked to
the Captain as they waited for Zulu’s reply.
“True,” replied the Captain. “We just need to find out where it is.”
“Agreed,” said Sprock. “And there is another matter I have been
considering.”
“What would that be?”
“The Klinger Mother Ship which Dennis told us about. I would say that there
is a strong possibility that it has followed Kharg.”
“Good point, Mr Sprock,” said the Captain. “We’ll have to bear that in mind.”
Mr Zulu meantime had unrolled a space chart across his desk and was
laying out a complicated pattern of bones over it in relationship to the co-
ordinates Ricky had given them. Eventually he stabbed a brown finger at a
spot on the chart. “Here, Boz,” he announced.
The Captain strolled over and had a look then screwed up his face when he
saw where Zulu was pointing. “Oh no!” he muttered.
Sprock walked over and examined the chart. “The planet Clumzy,” he
announced. “Do you know it, Jim?”
The Captain nodded. “Home of the Clumzies,” he said. “The most awkward,
blundering, accident-prone people in the Universe.” He turned to Zulu. “You’re
absolutely certain this is where the co-ordinates lead to?”
“Yez Boz. The bones neva lie,” replied his Navigator.
Captain Kork sighed resignedly. “How long to plot a course?”
“Depenz.”
“On what?”
“We gots any live chickens on board?”
“The Captain frowned. “I think so. Why?”
“I gots to consult the chicken entrails before we leave,” Zulu told him, his
dark eyes rolling. “See if the Juju’s right.”
“Come come, Mr Zulu, is that really necessary,” the Captain asked, slightly
sceptical.
“Oh yes, Boz,” Zulu assured him. He leaned closer conspiratorially. “Don’t
want to travel with bad Juju, does you? Maybe the Evil Eye see us….an
pounce!!”
Startled, the Captain jumped back. A confrontation with the Evil Eye was
the last thing he wanted. “Well then, Mr Zulu,” he said, glancing round to see if
anybody was listening, “ you’d better get down to the galley and see if Chef
can give you a..a..a navigational aid.”
Zulu grinned then cart-wheeled his way to the bridge door as the Captain
strolled over and slid into his chair. He flicked on his intercom and contacted
the Engine Room.
“Bridge to Chief Engineer,” he said.
 62

Jocky, who had made the most of the party when the Captain and Mr
Sprock were on Dulcodaz, was more than a little drunk. “Yes ma wee
mannie?” he replied.
“I’ll be requiring Warped Speed shortly,” the Captain told him. “Are we
prepared?”
“Warped Speed?” said Jocky. “Nae problem at all. Just say the word an
we’ll be away like a fart out of a ferret!”
PART THREE

On board the small Klinger attack ship which was invisible under its
cloaking device, Major Partz had been working out some new tactics since
dawn seemed to be taking a long time to break and the Orion did not seem to
be moving.
He preened himself, cleared his throat then glanced over at Lieutenant
Brick. “I’ve decided that we’ll split the watches,” he announced.
“Split the watches? All right. If you say so sir,” agreed Brick.
Confident that he would get the best of the deal the Major explained his
plan. “I’ll take the night shift,” he said smugly. “You do the dayshift.”
Brick smiled to himself. “Right sir. I’ll get some sleep then. Call me at
dawn.”
“All right, Lieutenant,” Partz announced then scratched his head. “When’s
that?” he asked.
“Just as its getting light, you twat, I mean sir.”
“Oh yeah, light,” the Major agreed. “Okay, I’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks sir,” said Brick and made his way to his sleeping quarters, which
happened to be the seat he was strapped into.
Major Partz, basking in the glory of all this important decision making, sat
back and waited for dawn. And waited. And waited. And waited.

PART FOUR

“Okay Boz,” Zulu announced as he strolled back into the bridge, wiping
some blood from his hands. “We can go.”
The Captain beckoned him closer. “The Juju’s good?” he whispered.
“Ace!” replied Zulu, grinning and showing his perfect white teeth.
“Good,” said the Captain, returning the smile. “Plot in our course.” He gave
Zulu a minute to pass on the course instructions to Crackers then contacted
the Engine Room again. “Jocky?”
“Yesh?”
“Take us up to maximum if you please then implement Warped Speed.”
“Comin up, Cap’n,” replied Jocky.
With the super confidence generated by an over-indulgence in the bottle,
Jocky moved round his beloved Engine Room, turning dials, flicking switches
and shouting orders to his crew.
The Orion moved off slowly then quickly gained speed then went into a
beautiful arc as it headed away from Dulcodaz….backwards.
On the nearby Klinger attack ship, Major Partz only had time to say, “Isn’t
that the--” before the Orion smashed into them, then he, Lieutenant Brick and
all their promotion hopes became at one with the Cosmos.
On the bridge they had all felt the collision.
 63

The Captain flicked on his intercom. “Jocky what the hell was that?”
“Just a few meteors, Cap’n,” Jocky replied. “Nothin serious. A wee bump
tae the ship’s arse.”
“Is it anything to do with the fact that we’re travelling backwards?” the
Captain asked.
Before Jocky had time to reply Mr Sprock drew the Captain’s attention to
the forward observation screen. He glanced up then groaned and held his
head. Reluctantly he contacted the Engine Room again. “Stop engines,
Jocky,” he ordered. “Then you’d better get up here. “We’ve got company.”
Visible on the Orion’s forward observation screen and signalling for it to
stop was a very sleek and very fast ship. There was a large flashing blue light
on top of it and across the bow huge white letters spelled out two distinct
words – SPACE POLICE.

PART FIVE

As Jocky was making his way up to the bridge, the Space Police Constable
beamed across to the Orion. He materialised on the Transporter Platform and
looked round, a gloating smile on his face. In common with the rest of the
Space Police he was a large, well-built specimen, his all black uniform giving
him a menacing look.
“Greetings lawbreakers!” he announced, removing his helmet and running a
hand over his bristly, razored hair.
“Is there some trouble, Officer?” the Captain asked, giving him one of his
warm smiles, complete with appealing crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes.
The Constable ignored the warm smile and the appealing crows’ feet. “You
call it trouble, I call it deep shit,” he replied, stepping off the Platform and
taking out his notebook. He flicked it open and glanced at it. “Attempting a
rear u-turn in a built-up area, exceeding the speed limit just outside a planet’s
atmosphere, driving without due care and attention and…” he broke off and
grinned maliciously at the Captain, “and annihilating a small ship which you
didn’t see because you were travelling backwards.” He closed his notebook
and returned it to his breast pocket. “Yes I would classify that as deep shit,
sunshine,” he said smugly. “Were you driving?”
“No he’s the Cap--” Mr Sprock began.
“Shutit pointy ears!” snapped the Constable. “Was I talking to you?”
Just then the bridge door swished open and Jocky staggered in. “Hullo!” he
called cheerfully then tripped over Butch Bradley’s deliberately outstretched
boot.
“The driver?” the Constable asked.
Captain Kork closed his eyes and nodded wearily as Jocky rose unsteadily
to his feet.
The Constable’s eyes lit up. He brought out a Transceiver and flicked it
open. “Got a beauty here, Sid,” he said into it. “Send over a bag for breath
testing.”
He pocketed his Transceiver and strolled over to Jocky. “Had a few, have
we?” he asked lifting an imaginary glass to his mouth several times.
“Okay, Ah’ll join ye if yer havin one,” Jocky replied, an idiotic grin on his
face.
 64

“Licence!” snapped the Constable through gritted teeth. “Insurance! Space

tax disc!”
Jocky fumbled for his wallet and produced his papers. The Constable
grabbed them and began examining the documents confident that he would
find something else amiss but everything was in order and grudgingly he
thrust them back. Irritated, he looked round and saw the lights flashing above
the Transporter Platform indicating someone was beaming aboard. “Ah good,
the bag’s coming,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
A shimmering figure began to take shape on the Platform and moments
later materialised completely. It was a grey haired, toothless, ugly old woman.
“The bag!” the Constable told Jocky and dragged him over to the Platform.
“I want you to blow into her.”
Jocky recoiled. Close up, the old woman was even uglier. “Jings,” he
protested, “do I have tae?”
“Blow!” ordered the Constable.
Jocky screwed his eyes shut, leaned forward and fastened his lips to the
old woman’s. He breathed into her then broke away and rubbed at his mouth.
A few seconds later the old hag’s face turned a deep green.
The Constable whistled appreciatively. “Great!” he said. “She’s positive!”
He flicked open his Transceiver. “Beam the bag back, Sid,” he said then
turned to Jocky. “Right sunshine – now we need a blood sample.”
Perhaps I could assist,” Dr Malloy offered, stepping forward. “I’m the ship’s
doctor.”
The Constable held up his hand. “There’s no need,” he said then swung his
fist round and punched Jocky smartly across the nose.
Jocky yelped then collapsed. As he lay on the floor the Constable took a
metal tube from his pocket and removed a long thin stick from it. He bent
down and dipped it into the blood which was flowing from Jocky’s nose then
examined the reading.
He straightened up, a satisfied look on his face. “Three times the legal
limit,” he announced, grinning.
He took out his pad and began writing as a semi-conscious Jocky was
carried down to the Sick Bay.
“You Federation boys are all the same,” the Constable said as he wrote.
“Touch down somewhere, swallow half a gallon of the local brew then take off
like you’re in hyperspace.” He tore off the sheet from his pad and handed it to
the Captain. “Give that to Doctor Who when he comes round,” he instructed.
“Ten penalty points.”
“Only ten?” the Captain remarked, slightly surprised. “That’s not too bad
under the circumstances.”
“I was going to make it twenty,” the Constable told him, putting on his
helmet and strolling back to the Transporter Platform, “but I took ten off.”
“Why?”
“Five each for those two Klingers you wiped out.”
“Klingers? What Klingers?”
“They must have been in a small attack ship with the Cloak on,” the
Constable told him. “When you hit them it would have turned the Cloak off.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yeah, ten points off for the Klingers. I hate Klingers – thick, ugly bastards”
He flicked open his Transceiver. “Okay Sid,” he said into it. “Beam me back.”
 65

Immediately his outline began shimmering and he touched his helmet and
smiled round at everyone. “Evening all!” he said and disappeared.

PART SIX

CAPTAIN’S LOG : STARDATE 503.17

After our encounter with the Space Police and with Jocky still recovering in
the Sick Bay, the Orion went into Warped Speed and we headed for the
planet Clumzy in pursuit of Kharg and the Klinger Mother Ship. Kharg is about
one hour ahead of us and may even have been and gone by the time we get
there. Our only hope is that he might be delayed somehow – possibly in
finding the next clue towards possession of the mysterious substance which is
going to give him the power to rule the Universe and destroy Earth.
Unfortunately for Mr Sprock he has gone through another ear change. This
time his ears are long and floppy like a cocker spaniel’s and he has locked
himself in his cabin. After the last episode I can’t say I blame him.
SUPPLEMENTAL
Dennis, one of our Klinger prisoners, continues to surpass himself. Last night
he offered to exchange the layout of the secret minefield around his home
planet if he could have beans on toast for his supper.
On a more serious note he told us the real purpose of General Draygo’s
mission – to kill me and destroy the Orion. Both, obviously, must be
prevented.

PART SEVEN

“Two hours till we reach Clumzy, Captain,” Crackers announced. “Any

instructions?”
“Maintain present speed until we’re within scanner range,” instructed the
Captain. “Put a planet information profile on screen.”
Crackers began tapping in the request and the Captain turned to Lieutenant
Youhoor. “Any sign of the Klingers or Kharg?” he asked.
Youhoor inspected her monitors. “Negative sir,” she replied. “They must still
be too far ahead or we’d have picked them up.”
“All weapons are on standby in case we run into anyone,” Butch Bradley
informed him. “Want me to destroy a couple of minor planets on the way just
for practice?”
“Negative, Mr Bradley,” the Captain told him.
“Information on Clumzy coming up,” a grinning Crackers announced.
“Home of the most accident-prone people in the Universe.”
The view on the forward observation screen changed to a picture of a fairly
small planet.
“Situated in the Janad System, Clumzy had a population of just over fifty
million until recently,” began the commentary. “The population is now exactly
fifty million after somebody sat on the Missile Launch buttons at Armed
Forces H.Q., setting off explosions and wiping out several hundred of the
population. North West corner of Clumzy now uninhabited.”
The screen view changed to a devastated, burned out area of the planet.
“Ruler of the planet is Olaf Akcy Dent,” continued the commentary.
 66

The screen changed to a shot of a middle-aged man lying in a hospital bed

with one leg in plaster.
“He is currently in hospital after falling from a height of twenty feet when his
Jetpack malfunctioned. It malfunctioned after it was shot from his back by one
of his personal bodyguards who thought he was an assassin.”
“Olaf has a long history of trying to get his planet included in the
Federation,” the commentary went on, “but on the grounds of self-
preservation his requests have so far been turned down.”
The picture changed to a shot of two ships colliding and bursting into
flames.
“Even the Klingers, currently on an empire-extending programme, have
refused to take the planet into their fold after two of their ships were destroyed
there and several Ambassadors killed when the ships were mis-directed to the
same Docking Bay.”
The picture changed to a shot of buildings being knocked down.
“Flourishing industries – any types of demolition work,” the commentary
continued. “Declining industries – any types of construction work. Average life
span – fifty Earth years. The high mortality rate is due to new buildings falling
on people, people falling off new buildings, people sitting on Missile Launch
buttons.”
A final shot of the bed-bound, miserable looking Olaf filled the screen.
“Recommendations for landing – DON’T!!”
 67

CHAPTER EIGHT

“A Sorcerer!? You!? I’ve seen better charms

on a bracelet!!”

STELLA
WIFE OF SILAS THE SORCERER
 68

PART ONE

A couple of miles outside a small village on the planet Clumzy, a slightly

dilapidated cottage nestled at the foot of some gently sloping hills. There was
a broad grassy field in front of the cottage bordered on two sides by a thick
forest and on the other by a meandering splashing, stream.
Given the cottage’s location and seclusion it would have been easy to
imagine that a quiet peaceful live was enjoyed by whoever lived there. Given
the owner’s nationality and profession however, the opposite was usually the
case.
Inside the cottage in the small front room, Silas the Sorcerer was at work.
Due more to the auspices of good fortune rather than anything attributable to
himself, Silas had reached middle-age but it was a tired middle-age. Deep
lines furrowed his brow, his black hair was turning grey and round his waist,
fat had long since replaced muscle.
In keeping with the style of his chosen profession Silas was wearing a long,
wide-sleeved robe and a peaked cap, both of which were decorated with
traditional Sorcerer’s symbols.
On the stone floor of the room he had drawn a large crude star and had
placed lighted candles at each of its six points. Just beneath the top point and
acting as a sacrifice lay a recently killed black rat.
Silas was about to attempt to invoke the Spirits to provide him with an elixir
which would solve the chronic constipation problem of his wife’s mother. To a
competent Sorcerer it would have been an easy task. To Silas it was a difficult
and complicated ritual.
He knelt down inside the star, bowed his head, stretched out his arms and
started his muttering incantation.
“Oh thou most revered of Spirits,” he began, “the mighty Lord Mazumbara,
whose powers stretch beyond the grave, I call upon thee to provide your
humble servant with an elixir which…which…” he broke off and sniffed several
times.
Ah good! He could smell something burning. According to his texts the
small of burning often indicated the nearness of the Spirits. Encouraged, he
closed eyes and resumed his incantation.
“I heartily call on thee, oh Spirit Mazumbara, to provide an elixir for your
most devoted servant and accept this offering of a black rat in return. Lord
Mazumbara, whose power defies all…all…” he broke of again and sniffed
some more.
The small of burning was growing even stronger! He could almost feel the
heat as well! The elusive carrot of success dangling just in front of him, Silas
closed his eyes and concentrated even harder.
 69

“Oh mighty Lord Mazumbara, greatest of all Spirits, accept this humble
offering and in return provide your most devoted servant…your most
devoted…your AAARRGGHH!!” he screamed, opening his eyes and
discovering both of his sleeves on fire.
Unsuccessfully he tried to blow them out but they were too well caught. He
jumped up and started beating them against his thighs but his foot got tangled
in his long robe and he stumbled forward, knocking over the top candle which
rolled across to the window and immediately set the curtains on fire.
As Silas was beating at the new flames a mist began forming in the centre
of the six-pointed star. Due to the fact that Silas was one of the worst
Sorcerers on Clumzy he had used the wrong offering and incantation and
instead of invoking an anti-constipation elixir, he had invoked a mischievous
Spirit called Zall.
The mist solidified and Zall took shape – a four foot high, semi-human
creature with a shock of black hair and an expression of permanent surprise
on his face.
He watched Silas with interest then grinned maliciously. He picked up one
of the candles, crept forward and set the bottom of his robe on fire then retired
to a corner to watch the fun.
Just then the door opened and Stella, the long suffering wife of Silas, came
in. She was a small fat woman and was wearing a scruffy black robe. Her hair
was greying and her once semi-attractive face was now lined and wrinkled.
“Hilda!” she was shouting as she came in. “Cooee, Hilda!...You useless
bastard!” she yelled, seeing the flames.
She rushed back out and returned moments later with a bucket of water
which she threw over Silas and the flames.
“You useless prat!” she screeched. “What the hell happened?!”
“Something must have gone wrong during the spell,” muttered a puzzled,
smoking Silas, brushing at his still smouldering sleeves.
“Gone wrong!?” scoffed Stella. “When does it ever go right? Call yourself a
Sorcerer – you couldn’t disappear up your own arse!”
“Yes dear,” muttered Silas, hauling himself to his feet and replacing his
peaked cap.
“Oh my curtains!” moaned Stella and rushed over to examine them. “Look
at the state these are in and we haven’t even paid for them yet. When are you
going to get a proper job?” she nagged. “I’m fed up with all this scrimping and
saving. I can’t remember the last time I had a decent holiday. The Korabs are
off to Mars again and what do I get? Stuck in this bloody cesspit with you!”
A strange looking animal wandered in through the open door. It resembled
a cow but was thinner and had black and white horizontal stripes.
“And look at that!” Stella ranted on, throwing the bucket at it. “I asked you to
invoke a cow and what do I get? That thing! Call that a cow? It’s the only milk
I’ve ever seen with black and white stripes in it!”
“Oh we all make mistakes,” Silas said lamely.
“Yeah but you make them all the bloody time!” screeched Stella.
“Well what about him?” Silas asked, nodding at a crib in the opposite corner
of the room.
In the crib a jet black baby gurgled away happily to itself.
“Oh that!” muttered Stella, wringing her hands uncomfortably. “Well…you
were away.”
 70

From his hiding place behind the open door Zall continued to peep out now
and then, waiting for the right moment so he could create more havoc.
“What the hell’s this you’ve been scrawling on the floor?” Stella went on,
glancing at the large six-pointed star. Then she caught sight of the dead black
rat. “Aw Hilda!” she wailed, picking it up. “Aw she’s dead! The best friend I
ever had and she’s dead!” She glared at Silas. “Was it you!?” she screeched.
“Did you kill her!?”
“It wasn’t me, dear,” Silas said quickly, shaking his head vigorously and
trying to look innocent. “First I’ve seen it.”
“If I find out it was you,” Stella ranted, waving Hilda in his face, “there won’t
be any nooky for you this year.”
Silas shrugged resignedly. “Be a bit like last year then won’t it?” he
muttered.
“Did you say something?” Stella asked, looking suspiciously at him.
“No dear,” Silas replied. “I was just clearing my throat.”
Behind them, Zall crept forward and groped Stella’s lumpy rear. She
screamed, whirled round and smacked him across the head with Hilda. Zall
recoiled then changed back into a mist and floated away out the door.
Stella turned back to Silas. “Wipe that bloody smile off your face,” she
snapped. “I suppose that was another one of your spells. Well get rid of it. The
place is bad enough without that pervert hanging around.”
Before Silas had a chance to reply there was a thumping on the ceiling.
“Oh that’ll be Mother wanting her supper,” Stella moaned, glancing
upwards. “I don’t know, it’s just work, work, work round here all the time.” An
idea occurred to her and she looked at Hilda then back up at the ceiling.
“Wonder if Mother likes stew?” she muttered to herself.

PART TWO

“It’s all right for you,” panted Giraffe, “you can just drift along. With my little
legs I have to run to keep up.”
“Come on,” rasped Kharg, “we’re almost there.” Reaching into his robe he
withdrew a small directional scanner. He flicked it on and checked the
numbers under the red arrow. “The co-ordinates from the Krystals lead to
somewhere in there,” he rasped, pointing at a dilapidated cottage a short
distance across a field. “Let’s go.”
Kharg and Giraffe had followed the co-ordinates from the Krystals across
space and had landed on a quiet area of Clumzy an hour ago. Kharg was now
about to seek out the next clue in his quest for the mysterious substance
which would allow him to destroy Earth and rule the Universe.
Followed by a puffing Giraffe, Kharg drifted across the grassy field and up
the winding path to the cottage. As Giraffe leaned gratefully against the wall
and caught his breath, Kharg rapped on the door.
A harassed Stella answered. She took one look at Kharg with his domed
hairless head, glittering yellow eyes and long flowing dark blue robe then
turned away. “It’s some weirdo for you, Silas!” she yelled.
Still brushing at the burned patches on his robe, Silas came to the door.
“Evening gents,” he said, smiling. “What can I do for you?”
“I wonder if you might have a room to rent?” rasped Kharg.
 71

Silas shook his head. “Sorry, we’re a bit crowded in here as it is,” he said
apologetically.
“I’ll pay well,” Kharg told him.
“Show the gentleman in!” yelled Stella.
Silas shrugged and held the door open for Kharg and Giraffe.
“How long d’you want it for?” asked Stella. “Course we’ll have to charge
you double if your son’s staying,” she added, seeing Giraffe.
Giraffe glared at her from under his top hat.
“I have some business to attend to in this area,” rasped Kharg. “We would
be here perhaps for a few days.”
“All right. I’m just going up,” Stella said. “I’ll show you the room.” She placed
a bowl of steaming, dark brown liquid on a tray and shoved the tray into
Kharg’s hands. “Take that for me, will you?” she said, removing a rat’s tail
from the bowl. “I’m just taking Mother her supper.”
Kharg glanced in irritation at the tray then he and Giraffe reluctantly
followed her up some rickety stairs and along a short dingy passage.
“In here,” she said, opening the door.
Propped up in a large double bed in the centre of the room was an ancient
crone – Stella’s mother. She was wearing a floppy nightcap and a voluminous
flannel nightgown. As soon as she saw them she lifted a huge brass ear
trumpet to her head.
“Is he the doctor?” she asked, seeing Kharg. “What? What?”
“No it isn’t the doctor!” Stella shouted to her. “It’s the new lodger and his
son.”
“The doctor’s lodging with us?” her mother asked. “Hasn’t he got a place of
his own?”
Kharg drifted over and set the tray down on the bed.
“It’s me bowels,” Stella’s mother told him, grabbing his arm. “They’ve been
bunged up for weeks.”
Kharg’s face wrinkled in disgust and Giraffe sniggered in the background.
“Eat your supper,” Stella told her. “It’s a nice stew.”
“Eh? What?” her mother asked, moving the ear trumpet round to try and
catch what was said.
“Eat your stew!” Stella shouted into it.
“I have not!” her mother replied indignantly. “Me hot water bottle burst.”
“Oh shut up,” Stella told her.
“Eh? Eh? What?”
“Ignore her,” Stella said to Kharg. “Well, d’you like the room?”
“I haven’t seen it yet,” rasped Kharg in irritation.
“This is it,” explained Stella. “You don’t mind sleeping with Mother, do you?
She won’t bother you…you know. Not at her age.”
“I need something on the ground floor,” hissed Kharg.
“This is all there is!” Stella snapped. “The only other room downstairs is
mine and Silas’s. Been there thirty years we have and we’re not moving for
you or anybody else.”
Kharg reached into his robe and brought out a diamond. He held it up and it
sparkled brilliantly in the candlelight. “I want a room on the ground floor,” he
repeated. “Would this cover it?”
“Any luggage!?” Stella asked, grabbing the diamond. “Want to move in right
away!? Give me ten minutes to move our stuff!!”
 72

PART THREE

“Clear away this rubbish,” Kharg rasped to Giraffe, indicating some cheap
furniture. “Somewhere below us lies the next clue.”
After Stella had removed her few meagre possessions, Kharg had brought
out his direction scanner and re-checked the reading. A red square was
displayed continually and the figure below it was zero, indicating he was on
the exact spot that the co-ordinates from the dissolved Krystals had given on
Dulcodaz.
Giraffe removed his jacket and top hat and laid them on the bed. He moved
aside a rickety table and two chairs and cleared the straw away from the floor.
Beneath the straw a layer of dust had gathered and he got down on his hands
and knees to brush it away with a rag he’d found.
As he worked his way across the floor he uncovered part of a strange
looking diagram which had been carved into one of the floor’s stone squares.
At Kharg’s insistence he concentrated on it, cleaning away the thick dust
which had gathered in the lines of the carving.
When he’d finished Kharg drifted over and removed Captain Kork’s
Pendant from under his robe and compared it with the elaborate diagram on
the floor.
“They match exactly!” he hissed, his yellow eyes glittering. “This must be
the spot! Stand back!”
Before he could do anything further the door opened and Silas came in.
“Cocoa!” he announced, grinning and setting down a tray. He caught sight of
the carving on the floor and whistled in admiration, thinking Kharg had drawn
it. “Oh you’re doing a spell are you?” he asked. “Thought you were a fellow
Sorcerer when I first saw you. Mind if I watch?”
Kharg groaned in exasperation and shook his head. “Stay well back,” he
rasped.
Silas and Giraffe took their cocoa over to the bed and sat down. Kharg
drifted back from the centre of the room, closed his eyes and extended his
fingers.
“Great!” said Giraffe. “The floor show!”
As they watched, several long blue lines shot out from the tips of Kharg’s
fingers and fastened themselves onto the points of the carving. Kharg opened
his eyes then slowly raised his hands and with a grating noise, the stone block
began to lift.
When it was clear of the floor he moved his hands to the right, shifting the
block and setting it down. He flicked his fingers and the blue lines vanished.
There was now a gaping hole in the floor and the three of them stared at it
expectantly. For a few moments nothing happened then a dull glow began to
emanate from the hole accompanied by a mild wind which licked its way
round the room.
The dull glow gradually became brighter and brighter until it was a
shimmering blinding white and they had to shield their eyes, peering at it
through their fingers.
At the same time the wind increased in strength, hissing and howling,
ripping the curtains from the window, smashing the rickety table against the
wall and throwing Silas and Giraffe backwards across the bed.
 73

Kharg held his ground, staring at the blinding light through narrowed slits as
the wind whipped his robe around him.
Then from out of the hole a large golden Sphere slowly floated up and hung
in the air. When it stopped moving, the blinding light died away and the
screaming wind gathered itself into a column and disappeared into the hole.
Silas and Giraffe crawled back over the bed and stared at the Sphere. It
was still hanging motionless and the glow from it lit up the room in a warm
golden light.
“The second clue in the legend!” hissed Kharg triumphantly. “It will lead me
to the Black Hole and guide me through it!”
He reached out and stroked the Sphere lovingly. As his long tapering
fingers were caressing it, a mist floated in under the door and Zall, the
mischievous Spirit, appeared.
He saw the Sphere, liked the look of it, grabbed it and crashed out the
window.
“The Sphere!” rasped Kharg.
“The window!” wailed Silas.
“The special effects!” said Giraffe.
Outside, Zall raced away from the cottage with the Sphere and half-way
across the broad grassy field he dropped it and started kicking it around like a
football, squeaking happily to himself.
He ran along the grass tapping the Sphere in front of him and swerved past
a bush then awarded himself a free kick when one of the opposing team, a
large rock, tripped him.
The free quick was quickly taken and Zall passed the Sphere to himself. He
raced down the wing, easily beating a couple of fence posts and the crowd
leapt to their feet, roaring.
There was only half a minute to go in this no-scoring Cup Final as Zall
began weaving his way towards goal. Only two defenders remained between
him and glory.
He ran at the first defender, a mound of earth and sold it a beautiful
dummy. The crowd roared him on as he approached the centre back, a large
boulder. Zall sent the Sphere one way round it and nipped round the other.
The crowd were screaming. Zall collected the Sphere and without breaking
his stride sent a crashing shot towards goal. The Sphere flew past the
outstretched arms of the goalkeeper, a small tree and smacked into the back
of the net.
The crowd erupted and Zall ran over to salute them, arms in the air,
squeaking with joy. Which is when General Draygo casually stepped out from
the edge of the forest and squeezed off a burst from his stun gun.
Zall dropped in mid-squeak. From Cup Final winning goal scorer to
unconscious Spirit inside a second. Such are the caprices of Fate!
Draygo strolled over and picked up the Sphere and examined it. “So this is
what Kharg was after?” he muttered. “Why?”
The Mother Ship had followed Kharg across space and the General had
beamed down to Clumzy just after him with a few troops. They had shadowed
him to the cottage and waited to see what he was up to and now their
patience had been rewarded.
Draygo took out a small hand scanner and ran it over the Sphere but
nothing special showed up. Wondering if there was anything inside, he was
 74

about to smash it against a rock when it shot out of his hand and flew into the
air.
One of his warriors raised his laser rifle and sighted on it but the General
quickly knocked his weapon aside.
“Don’t fire!” he barked. “I want to see what it does.”
As they watched, the Sphere floated along parallel to the ground then it
gathered speed and shot diagonally into the sky, zooming higher and higher
till they lost sight of it.
Draygo took out his Transceiver, flicked it open and contacted the Mother
Ship. “There’s a golden Sphere heading up from the planet,” he told his First
Officer. “See if you can pick it up on one of the scanners.”
Moments later the First Officer reported back. “We’ve got it, General,” he
said.
Draygo’s face creased into an ugly grin. “Where’s it heading?” he asked.
“On its present course, somewhere out into space. It’s just leaving the
planet’s atmosphere…now!”
“Beam us back and get the ship ready to move,” ordered Draygo. “We’re
going to follow it.”

PART FOUR

Shortly after the Klingers left, Zall came to. Groggily he sat up and looked
round. The crowd were gone, the Sphere was gone and there was no sign of
the Cup after he’d scored the winning goal. Dejected, he trudged back to the
dressing-room – Silas’s cottage.
Kharg, who had been taken completely by surprise when Zall had stolen
the Sphere, was just on the point of leaving with Giraffe to look for him when a
mist drifted in under the door and he solidified.
He walked over to Silas and started jabbering away to him in a language
only he seemed to understand.
“Where is the Sphere!?” hissed Kharg, his yellow eyes flashing.
Zall jabbered away and Silas translated. “Somebody took it,” he told Kharg.
“Who?”
Silas asked Zall and he was about to relay the answer when a crafty smile
crossed his face. “What’s in it for me?” he asked Kharg.
“What do you mean?” Kharg rasped impatiently.
Silas tapped the side of his nose. “I do something for you – you do
something for me,” he said, grinning.
Kharg shook his head. “Anything you wish,” he rasped.
Silas’s eyes lit up. “Anything!?” he asked.
“Anything,” agreed Kharg.
Silas strolled over and whispered a couple of things into his ear. Kharg
nodded and Silas grinned and gave Zall the ‘thumbs up’.
“Now who took the Sphere?” Kharg rasped.
“Some strange looking men,” Silas told him.
“Describe them.”
Silas listened as Zall jabbered away to him. “Long black hair, black leather
uniforms, really ugly,” he told Kharg.
“Klingers!” hissed Kharg. “The Klingers have the Sphere. Where did they
go?”
 75

Hazarding a guess Silas raised a finger to the heavens.

“Space!” rasped Kharg. “They must be following the Sphere! Come Giraffe,
we must get after them!”
“Hold on! Hold on!” said Silas. “What about our bargains?”
“Oh all right,” rasped Kharg.
Silas grinned and waited expectantly, rubbing his hands together.
Kharg sighed wearily then pointed a finger at Zall. There was a blue flash
then a silver football Cup appeared in his hands. Zall squeaked with joy and
held the Cup aloft then paraded triumphantly round the room with it.
“Hurry if you wish the second part of your bargain,” Kharg told Silas.
Silas nodded and trotted over to the door. He opened it and cupped a hand
to his mouth. “Oh Stella!” he shouted. “Stella my love!”
Moments later Stella appeared. “What the bleedin hell d’you want?” she
asked, coming into the room. “My floor!” she yelled, seeing the gaping hole.
“Look at the state of my floor! And my window!” she screeched, seeing the
torn curtains and broken glass. “Who did it!? Who did it!? Were you doing one
of your spells again!?” she yelled at Silas.
Kharg raised both hands towards her and she was instantly engulfed in a
glowing purple mist. When it cleared a few moments later Stella was gone
and had been replaced by a scantily clad blonde.
She turned to Silas. “Oh Master,” she purred. “Master, I am yours to
command.”
Silas grinned and rubbed his hands together again.
“Come Giraffe,” rasped Kharg as he drifted off. “We must go.”
Giraffe put on his jacket and top hat then wagged a finger at Silas. “You
saucy Sorcerer!” he said, grinning at him then he turned and trotted after the
Boss.
 76

CHAPTER NINE

“Become an Accident Investigator on Clumzy and

you’ve got a job for life….until a friggin building
falls on you, that is!”

BUTCH BRADLEY
 77

PART ONE

An hour behind Kharg and the Klingers, the Orion approached Clumzy. The
Captain had contacted the planet’s ruler, Olaf Akcy Dent and explained the
purpose of their visit – to find out what lay at the site of the co-ordinates Kharg
had discovered.
Unaware that Kharg had come and gone, Olaf agreed enthusiastically to
their visit and always on the lookout to impress the Federation, he decided to
lay on an extravagant welcome.
Mr Sprock, although still locked in his cabin with his current cocker spaniel-
like ears, was to be left in charge of the ship. The Captain was beaming down
reluctantly, knowing what Clumzy was like and had chosen Butch Bradley to
accompany him in case they ran into any trouble.
They materialised in the capital town’s main square which was crowded on
all sides with people waiting excitedly to see the welcoming show. Olaf, who
was just out of hospital, came forward to greet them. Like Silas he had also
reached a weary middle age – large sad eyes were the prominent feature in
his tired, lined face and most of his hair had departed along with his youthful
years.
“Ah, greetings, greetings, Captain Rock and First Officer Bradson,” he
gushed, shaking hands with them. “Welcome to our humble planet.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied the Captain, at the same time digging a sniggering
Butch in the ribs.
Olaf led them up to the VIP platform which was decorated with flags and
bunting. They all remained standing as the band struck up the Federation
national anthem followed by Clumzy’s.
As the last chords died away everyone took their seats and the bumbling
Olaf fumbled with his papers as he prepared to make his welcoming speech.
“Federation friends,” he began, “it really gives me great pleasure to
welcome you to our little planet and we hope your stay will be a pleasant one.
I’d like to welcome you on behalf of myself, the noblemen of Clumzy, the
people of Clumzy, the…er…the…er,” he broke off, losing his place, “oh yes
and not forgetting the plants and animals of Clumzy and oh I must mention
Mrs Narok who made those delightful little pineapple Upside Down Cakes,” he
said, pointing to a buffet table. “You must try some, Captain, they really are
delicious.”
Captain Kork nodded and smiled politely. Beside him Butch bit his lip and
looked away.
“Often wonder why they’re called Upside Down Cakes,” mused Olaf, his
mind wandering away from his speech. “I mean if they really were upside
down the sponge part would be at the top and the fruit would be at the bottom.
That wouldn’t be very good though, would it?” he asked, peering round. “I
mean the fruit would stick to the…to the paper when you er pulled it off and
 78

you’d have to sort of scrape it…yes you’d have to scrape it off with your
fingers…or a small spoon…or something like that.”
He paused and thinking he’d finished, the band struck up with their next
tune but Olaf continued and they had to break off.
“The point I’d like to make,” he went on, “is that…is that…oh dear, I seem
to have forgotten it. Have you any idea what it was Deputy?”
“I think you were rambling on about Upside Down Cakes,” replied his
Deputy, used to this sort of thing.
“Ah yes, Upside Down Cakes,” agreed Olaf, turning back to the crowds.
“Yes the Upside Down cake reminds me of life every time I eat one,” he
continued. “I mean if you imagine the sponge of the Upside Down Cake as the
sort of stodge, the sort of mundane things we all have to go through each day,
then the fruit represents the more interesting exciting things we all have to
look forward to.”
“Like your next Upside Down Cake,” muttered Butch and it was the
Captain’s turn to snigger.
Olaf broke off and the band waited. They’d been fooled once before and
weren’t for rushing into anything. The Conductor watched Olaf closely for a
few moments then relaxed. He smiled and turned to his musicians and raised
his baton however just as he was about to wave them into the opening bars…
“So if I could just extend our warmest upside down, I mean warmest
welcome to our Federation friends,” Olaf bumbled on, “and ask them to…ask
them to…” He stopped again, getting his notes mixed up. “Ah yes, ask them
to send that black-haired majorette in the yellow mini-skirt round to my office
after the show. What!?! I think this must be yours, Deputy,” he said, passing
the sheet of paper to him.
His Deputy pulled at his collar and looking distinctly embarrassed, took the
sheet and quickly shoved it into a pocket.
“So without any more ado, I’d like to present this little welcoming show of
ours,” Olaf finished and sat down.
“Thank God for that,” muttered the Captain.
Olaf signalled to the band but the Conductor had lost interest by this time
and it took a few tugs on his jacket from one of his musicians before he finally
got the message and raised his baton.
Playing a stirring military tune, the band marched across the square,
leading the circus entertainers who were to provide the first part of the show –
jugglers, clowns, acrobats, horseback riders, elephants and caged tigers all
paraded in front of the VIP platform and were cheered by the crowd.
When the band reached the opposite side of the square they stopped
playing and began forming up again in front of three rusting tanks which were
to do a drive past in the second part of the show.
In the square the entertainment got under way: the jugglers tossed their
lighted clubs in intricate patterns; the clowns chased each other in and out of
the crowd; the elephants were coaxed onto their knees by their handlers and
the tigers prowled around in criss-crossing tunnels.
High above the laughing, cheering crowds, two balloonists waved from their
baskets and showered the square with sparkling confetti.
“You know, this is going pretty well for Clumzy,” Butch whispered to the
Captain as they watched the show.
 79

The Captain smiled at him. “Give it time,” he muttered confidently. “Just

give it time.”
Shortly afterwards he was proved correct.
Like a lot of disasters, this one began simply enough. Attracted by the noisy
colourful spectacle, Zall materialised unnoticed at the edge of the crowd. He
watched the show awhile then unable to resist the temptation, he groped the
rear of an attractive woman who was standing in front of him.
“You filthy swine!” she screamed at the man next to her, thinking he was
the culprit and slapped him across the face.
Taken by surprise the man staggered sideways and in a domino effect
knocked down several other people.
The last person to fall knocked over a passing trifle seller and as he went
down his trifles went flying through the air. One of them splattered on to the
face of the band Conductor and automatically he raised his hands to wipe the
mess away.
Thinking he was raising his baton, the band started up and the Conductor,
thinking he’d missed his cue again quickly wiped the trifle from his face and
led them out into the square.
“That’s our signal,” the lead tank commander said to his driver, hearing the
music. “Let’s go.”
The tank trundled forward after the band closely followed by the other two.
In the square the circus show was only half-way through and the
performers, totally engrossed in their acts, were oblivious to what was
approaching.
“Here it comes!” muttered the Captain with relish, seeing the advancing
band and tanks.
Chewing on an unlit cigar, Butch nodded agreement. “Looks like it could be
a beauty!” he muttered back, grinning.
First to go was the eight man acrobatic troupe. The marching band
ploughed into their pyramid, knocking them to the ground and trampling over
them and two members became intimate with the lead tank’s rusting metal
tracks.
“On to the other tank, boys!” shouted the leader, undeterred by the
catastrophe.
Three of the troupe leapt on to the second tank and were standing on each
others shoulders when the commander opened his turret.
“What the hell’s all that noise?” he asked, throwing the hatch back and
sending the depleted troupe into the path of the third tank.
Still playing away, the band panicked the elephants who reacted in a way
that was perfectly understandable under the circumstances – they emptied
their bowels.
Unfortunately the contents landed on a couple of clowns who had been
threatening to throw buckets of tiny fish over the spectators.
“Shit!!” the clowns yelled in unison and their threat became reality and the
contents of the buckets were thrown.
Tiny wriggling fish landed in the crowd and found their way into people’s
hair, down women’s cleavages and into children’s open mouths. Panic
erupted, with the women screaming, the children yelling and people tearing at
their hair and clothes.
 80

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” said Olaf as he watched his welcoming show

disintegrating. “Things don’t seem to be going as planned, do they?”
“Never mind,” Butch said consolingly. “Have an Upside Down Cake.”
In the square the tanks now fanned out as planned and two of them
crushed the tiger tunnels allowing several highly aggressive animals their long
sought freedom. They dived into the crowd, roaring and growling and ripping
at anything within reach.

One of them pounced on a juggler and his burning clubs went flying wildly,
setting fire to bunting and flags and some of the wooden spectator platforms.
“I think you’d better call the Fire Brigade,” the Captain suggested to Olaf.
Olaf shrugged resignedly. “There’s no point,” he said. “They’re all in the
band.”
In the square another of the tigers attacked an elephant which, in its
desperation to escape, charged around trumpeting wildly and trampling
anyone who got in its way.
“Let’s stop that elephant,” the lead tank commander said to his gunner.
“Fire as soon as you get him in your sights.”
The gunner took aim and fired but the shot missed and exploded against a
nearby building, causing an entire side of it to collapse and sending dust and
smoke drifting across the square.
“Demolition our speciality!” said Butch, watching an adjacent building begin
to collapse as well.
Enraged by being fired at, the elephant attacked the tank and tried to topple
it. The gunner fired again but the shot flew into the air and burst both the hot
air balloons which were floating not too high above them.
The baskets and their screaming occupants plummeted earthwards.
Straight for the VIP platform.
“Beam me back, Jocky!” yelled Butch as he and the Captain dived out of
the way.
“Oh shit!” muttered Olaf, looking up. “Help!” he yelled as he struggled to his
feet. “Help! Help! Aaarrgghh!!”
He didn’t make it.
One of the baskets landed smack on top of the awning, plunged through
into the platform and the entire flimsy structure collapsed, leaving Olaf and the
balloonists groaning somewhere underneath it.
The square was now a heaving, screaming, yelling, panicking confusion of
men, women, children, animals, tanks, collapsing buildings and raging fires.
The Captain and Butch had escaped to the safety of a side street and they
surveyed the fabulous disaster of the welcoming show.
“I think I’d rather face aggressive Klingers than friendly Clumzies,” the
Captain remarked philosophically to a grinning, cigar chewing Butch.
“Agreed,” said Butch. “You know what really pisses me off though?”
“What’s that?” asked the Captain.
“We’ll never get a friggin Upside Down Cake now!”

PART TWO
 81

From his hospital bed where he was now lying with two broken arms, Olaf
issued orders to provide the Captain and Butch with a guide to lead them to
the site of the co-ordinates from the Krystals.
Not wishing to risk or even witness any more accidents they skirted the
town and headed out into the country. After a mile the Captain re-checked his
co-ordinates on a small direction scanner and they seemed to be leading to a
dilapidated cottage which nestled at the foot of some gently sloping hills a
short distance in front of them.
The guide left and the Captain and Butch surveyed the scene. Night was
beginning to fall and the cottage lay in eerie gathering twilight.
“Kharg or the Klingers could be in there,” the Captain whispered as they
peered out from behind some bushes.
Butch drew his pearl-handled laser pistols and clicked them on. “I’ll handle
this!” he announced, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest.
Using all available cover he cautiously approached the cottage, flitting from
tree to tree and boulder to boulder. He made it without being fired at and
tiptoed onto the small veranda then flattened himself against the wall next to
the door.
After a careful check that they weren’t in danger of being annihilated by
laser fire, he signalled the Captain who approached cautiously and flattened
himself on the other side of the door.
“We go in on ‘three’!” Butch hissed. “Ready?”
The Captain nodded and checked his laser pistol.
“One,” whispered Butch, “two…three…go!”
He leapt out, pistols in front of him and the Captain knocked on the door.
Butch stared at him in disbelief. “Not like that!” he hissed angrily. “Like this!”
He kicked the door open and dived in, sweeping the room with his lasers but it
was empty.
The Captain joined him and they were making a quick search when they
heard some noise from above. Cautiously, they tiptoed up some rickety stairs
and along a short dingy passage until they were outside a room door then
flattened themselves on either side of it again.
“I’ll do it this time!” whispered Butch. He mouthed ‘One, two, three,’ to
himself then burst in, lasers up and sweeping.
“Are you the doctor?” Stella’s mother asked from the bed. “It’s me bowels. I
haven’t had a good--”
But the Captain and Butch had already gone. They quickly descended the
stairs and continued their search, discovering another room at the back of the
cottage where the door was slightly ajar.
Butch crept forward and peered in and grinned at what he saw – a huffing
and puffing Silas was engaged in things with his blonde beauty that he hadn’t
engaged in with Stella for a long time.
Butch tiptoed over to the bed and stuck a laser pistol at the side of Silas’s
head. “Freeze Casanova!” he ordered. “Hold it right there!”
“He is!” the blonde said, giggling.
“Off!” ordered Butch.
“Couldn’t you give me a couple of minutes?” pleaded Silas.
Butch brought his second laser pistol up to the other side of his head.
 82

“Perhaps not,” Silas conceded and heaved himself round to a sitting

position. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked, mopping at some
sweat on his brow.
Quickly the Captain told him about Kharg and the co-ordinates from the
Krystals and asked if he’d had any visitors. Silas told him what had happened
and how the Klingers went after the Sphere, followed by Kharg.
“So the Klingers are ahead of Kharg,” mused the Captain.
Silas nodded. “By about half an hour I’d say,” Silas told him.
“Hey Captain!” Butch called. “Take a look at this.”
The Captain strolled over and joined him. Butch had lit another candle and
had looked round the room and found the large hole in the floor.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the bottom of the hole.
The Captain crouched down and had a look. “Something’s glittering,” he
said. “Is this where the Sphere came from?” he asked Silas.
“The very spot,” Silas replied.
“I wonder if it’s traces from the Sphere? Can you reach it?” he asked Butch.
Butch laid one of his pistols aside and knelt down. He stretched his arm into
the hole and groped around. When he straightened up there were tiny gold
particles all over his fingers.
“What colour was the Sphere?” the Captain asked Silas.
“Gold,” the Sorcerer replied.
“These particles could be from it then,” said Butch.
The Captain nodded. “Let’s take some samples and get them back to the
Orion for analysis.”
Butch tore off a strip from the bed sheet and collected more of the gold
particles then carefully wiped his fingers on the strip.
The Captain flicked open his Transceiver. “Captain to bridge,” he said into
it.
“Yes sir?” replied Lieutenant Youhoor.
“Stand by to beam us back,” the Captain instructed. “Tell Dr Malloy we’re
bringing some samples with us. I want an immediate analysis on them.”
“Understood,” said Youhoor. “Activating Transporter.”
Silas breathed a sigh of relief when the Captain and Butch vanished. He lay
back on the bed but just as he was about to take up where he’d left off, a
constant thump, thump, thump on the ceiling interrupted him.
“Oh bloody hell!” he cursed, sitting up again. “Now what?”
The thumping continued.
Muttering away to himself, Silas threw on a robe and got out of bed. He
rummaged in a drawer and brought out a large wooden mallet. Glancing up at
the ceiling he smacked the mallet into his palm a few times and grinned.
“I’ll just take Mother up a sleeping tablet,” he said to the blonde. “Shan’t be
long.”

PART THREE

Ahead of Kharg and the Orion, the Klinger Mother Ship was cruising along
behind the Sphere. They had followed it away from Clumzy and it had headed
deep into space, General Draygo watching it all the time on his forward
observation screen.
 83

The Sphere had travelled at the equivalent of Warped Speed for over an
hour then it began to slow down, indicating that it might be nearing its
destination.
“Reduce speed and keep us the same distance behind the Sphere,” Draygo
ordered his Helmsman then strode over to the Navigator’s console. “Where’s
it heading if it maintains its present course?” he asked.
The Navigator had been plotting the Sphere’s journey across space and he
fed in his latest figures then glanced at Draygo, thick eyebrows raised in
surprise. He stood up and tapped an area on his monitor. “My God!” he said.
“It’s heading towards a Black Hole!”
The General’s thick eyebrows also shot up. “A Black Hole!? Are you sure?”
“Positive,” replied the Navigator. “If you retrace the Sphere’s course, it’s
been heading towards the Hole ever since it left Clumzy.”
“The Sphere has halted!” announced the Helmsman.
Draygo glanced over at the observation screen. “How far is it from the
Hole?”
“Fifty space miles.”
“That puts it right on the edge of the Hole’s gravity field,” the Navigator told
him.
“Then it looks as if it’s going in,” said Draygo.
“Why?” asked the Navigator. “If it gets anywhere near the surface it’ll get
sucked in and destroyed.”
As they watched, the Sphere began moving around the edge of the Hole’s
gravity field as if lining itself up then moved back half a space mile and
stopped again.
“Take a note of its exact position,” Draygo ordered the Navigator. “And I
mean exact.”
He strode back over to his chair, slipped into it and watched the screen
closely. Suddenly the Sphere shot forwards at high speed and entered the
Hole’s gravity field.
“Keep us here,” Draygo ordered the Helmsman.
The Sphere was now racing towards the Hole’s surface, a bright gold
meteor shooting into the blackness below. Its speed increased as it continued
on its unchanged course and flames began licking around it and fanned out
behind in a spiky tail. There was a brief orange glow when it crashed onto the
surface of the Hole followed by a muffled explosion. Then nothing.
“Look’s as if it has exploded,” his First Officer remarked.
Draygo wasn’t convinced. “Give me a close-up on where it hit,” he ordered.
The view on the observation screen telescoped forward until the Hole’s
undulating surface filled the screen. At the spot where the Sphere vanished
there was an area which was lighter than the surrounding blackness.
“Close in on that light area,” Draygo ordered.
At the maximum telescopic view they could see the light area stretching
back a short distance into the Hole.
“A corridor!” exclaimed Draygo, studying the screen. “And a damn big one.
That’s where the Sphere went.”
“Do we follow it?” the First Officer asked.
“There’s a ship approaching!” announced the Helmsman.
 84

“Kharg!” said Draygo, a grin spreading over his ugly face. “Activate the
Cloak and take us half a space mile to the side,” he ordered the Helmsman.
“Let’s see what Kharg does before we make a move.”

PART FOUR

CAPTAIN’S LOG : STARDATE 503.94

Dr Malloy’s analysis of the samples from the Sphere which we brought back
from Clumzy showed traces of a substance called Hercurium. Hercurium
remains static in space for several hours and the Sphere left enough in its
wake for us to follow it, using our Element Tracker. Kharg is still ahead of us
and since he has now freed the Sphere, he is well on his way towards
possession of the mysterious substance which will allow him to destroy Earth
and then dominate the Universe. We are all that stands between him and the
fulfilment of his plans. Somehow we have to find a way to stop him.
PART FIVE

Kharg’s ship warily approached the Black Hole. Like the Orion he was
following the Sphere by the minute traces of Hercurium and when he saw
where the trail led, he ordered Giraffe to cut their speed and let them drift up
to near the edge of the Hole’s gravity field.
“Is the Klinger Mother Ship around?” Kharg asked Giraffe.
Giraffe checked his scanners. “Nope,” he replied. “Nobody here except us.”
Kharg’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where are they?” he hissed, staring
at the forward observation screen. “Have they gone in ahead of us?”
Giraffe meantime had tracked the Hercurium right down to the Hole’s
surface. “I have the exact spot where the Sphere entered the Hole,” he said.
“Bring it closer,” Kharg ordered.
The telescoped view on the screen showed the same lighter area Draygo
had seen earlier.
“The corridor!” rasped Kharg. “That’s where the Sphere entered. We can
follow it through the Hole. Take us in.”
With the Mother Ship invisible under its Cloak, Draygo was watching events
on his screen. He saw Kharg’s ship line up then increase speed and enter the
Hole’s gravity field then shoot towards the black surface like a burning arrow.
When it reached the spot where the Sphere had vanished there was a
brilliant yellow flash then it too disappeared. A search of the surrounding
undulating surface revealed no wreckage, confirming Draygo’s suspicion
about the corridor.
“Do we go in now?” asked his First Officer.
“Give them fifteen minutes then we follow,” replied a grinning Draygo.
 85

CHAPTER TEN

“I was sellin used mammoths for a while but the

bloody market collapsed. Then I got into property,
you know, nice little cave with a panoramic view
of the primeval forests but the commission was
poor. Then I switched to the prophet business.
Now that was a good move – my life really
opened up when I got into that. All those lovely
daughters for performin rituals with!”

STAN THE PROPHET

 86

PART ONE

On the other side of the corridor inside the Black Hole through which
Kharg’s ship was currently travelling there was a new unexplored Universe.
Although it existed in a different dimension from ours, this Universe was much
the same as our own with planets and stars, suns and moons, days and
nights.
On one of the few inhabited planets there lived a race of semi-primitive
people. Since they weren’t a very advanced species and hadn’t yet got round
to space travel, their planet didn’t really have a proper name although it was
commonly referred to as Here because that’s where they all lived – here.
Apart from being populated, the planet Here differed from most of the other
planets in that a giant invisible wall separated one half of it from the other.
On one side of the wall it was rather pleasant with a lovely climate, warm
blue seas and sandy beaches, luxuriant forests and lots of different animals.
On the other side of the wall it wasn’t quite so idyllic. The climate was poor,
the scenery was rugged, the seas were cold and the only animals were
sheep, goats, mammoths and really big five-legged things nobody knew the
name of.
Unfortunately for the semi-primitives they lived on the bleaker side of the
planet and understandably would have preferred to live on the other side but
so far they hadn’t worked out a way to get through the giant invisible wall.
The Here-ites lived in caves, dressed in smelly furs, killed animals for food,
were killed by animals for food and worshipped things like trees. However
there were some amongst them who reserved their allegiance for a higher, if
not yet arrived, Deity.
Outside Stan the Prophet’s cave his fur-clad, unwashed flock were sitting in
a semi-circle patiently listening to yet another of his many sermons.
“And one day, out of that great empty sky, the Burning Ball will race across
the heavens and will drop on Here,” intoned Stan, eyes ablaze with fake
religious fervour. “And this shall be a sign for us because soon after that the
great God himself shall come. And God shall lead the faithful among us into
the Promised Land, which in our case is behind the big wall that nobody
sees.”
 87

Sitting in the flock, Bert the Unbeliever shook his head in disgust. “Aw piss
off, Stan,” he said. “We’ve heard all this crap before.”
“Yeah we’re gettin a bit sick of it,” agreed Barry.
“Tell us somethin interestin,” moaned Arthur.
Stan pulled at his long straggly beard and looked round them. “This is
interestin,” he said.
“To you, maybe,” sneered Bert, “but not to us – a Burnin Ball fallin out the
skies! Bloody rubbish!”
“Yeah, bloody rubbish,” agreed Barry. “At least Eric’s interestin.”
Eric, a rival prophet, lived at the top of the next small hill.
“Eric worships trees!” scoffed Stan.
“So? What’s wrong with trees?” asked Bert.
“Trees are good,” said Barry. “You can sit under them.”
“Or burn the bits that fall off,” added Arthur.
“Yeah, at least you get a reward when you worship with Eric,” Bert said,
smugly.
“Oh so its rewards we’re after!” Stan shot back, glaring at them. “Instant
gratification, eh!?” That’s what you lot want – you aren’t interested in
worshippin or makin sacrifices, you just want pathetic bloody rewards.” He
shook his head in disgust. “You make me want to puke.”
His flock looked a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed after this berating.
“Aw come on Stan, we’ve been waitin bloody years for the Burnin Ball,”
whined Barry.
Stan folded his arms and stood next to the crudely carved wooden statue of
the Burning Ball and haughtily looked down his nose at them.
“Yeah we’ve been makin sacrifices as well,” said Bert. “Like only playin
Caveman Willie Hides His Helmet once a month.”
“And givin you half our food,” Arthur added.
“And one of our daughters,” chimed in Barry.
“Yeah that’s right,” said Bert, taking up the last point. “How come we each
have to give you one of our daughters, Stan? That’s somethin I’ve never really
understood.”
“They’re for the rituals,” Stan explained. “You should know that by now.”
“Well why can’t you just sacrifice a goat like Eric?” Bert asked.
“Yeah, why d’you need to take some of our daughters?” questioned Barry.
Stan looked slightly thrown by all this but quickly recovered. “As I have
already pointed out,” he told them, “the daughters are essential for performin
the rituals.”
“More like for performin your nooky,” said Bert.
The others laughed.
“Your nooky rituals,” Bert went on, encouraged by the laughter.
“Look, they’re special rituals!” Stan snapped. “Only I as the Prophet can
carry them out.”
“Only you as the randyest can carry them out you mean,” scoffed Bert.
The flock laughed again.
Stan sensed his position was getting a bit shaky. It was time to play his
trump-card. He gazed up into the heavens and raised his arms. “Ah but when
that glorious day arrives,” he intoned, “the Deity will descend and lead the
faithful among us into the Promised Land where it’s nice and sunny and we
can eat lovely tasty animals and bathe in warm water.”
 88

That stopped the sniggering.

Stan maintained his heavenward-gazing/raised-arms posture but sneaked
glances at his flock to see how they were reacting. An air of confusion and
uncertainty hung over them.
“Might be worth waitin for,” Barry muttered.
“Might be,” agreed Arthur.
“Ah bugger off!” sneered Bert the Unbeliever, standing up. “Deity!
Sacrifices! Bloody Burnin Balls! I’ve had enough of this crap!”
“Heretic!!” Stan screamed at him, pointing an accusing finger. “You have
taken the Burnin Ball’s name in vain! You will be punished severely for that!”
“Piss off,” replied Bert as he strolled away. “I’m goin to join Eric. At least
you can burn sticks at his place an keep warm at night.”
The others watched him go.
“Unbeliever!” Stan yelled after him. “You will be punished severely for this!”
Bert turned and thumbed his nose at him and blew a raspberry.
The rest of the flock were now muttering among themselves and stealing
envious glances at him as he strolled happily downhill, heading towards
Eric’s. Eventually, in ones and twos, they stood up.
“We’ve had a little talk, Stan,” began Arthur, pulling nervously at his filthy
furs.
“And?” Stan asked, his arms folded, his foot tapping on the ground.
“Well….we’ve decided to go over to Eric’s as well,” Barry told him.
Stan’s foot stopped tapping. “You bastards!” he spat, looking round at
them. “You ungrateful spineless bastards! Just because you have to wait a bit
for the Deity to arrive, which involves a little bit of personal sacrifice, you all
want to go to bloody Eric’s.”
“At least you can build a fire there at night, Stan,” said Barry.
“Yeah you can keep warm,” agreed Arthur. “It gets bloody cold in these
caves after dark.”
Stan shook his head contemptuously. “Oh piss off the lot of you!” he told
them. “Go an join Eric.”
The flock looked relieved that they were being released without having
more scorn heaped on them but still they hesitated.
“Well go on then,” ordered Stan. “What are you waitin for?”
“We want our daughters back,” Arthur told him.
“Yeah we want them back, Stan,” said Barry.
Stan shrugged nonchalantly. “Take them,” he said airily.
Arthur grinned then cupped a hand to his mouth. “Daughters!” he yelled.
“Oh daughters!”
A group of attractive fur-clad young women trooped out of Stan’s cave and
joined the flock. One of them however lingered in the cave entrance. Although
young, she was fat and ugly with a couple of hairy warts on her chin.
She sidled up behind Stan. “I’ll stay with you, Master,” she whispered.
Stan grinned. “All right, luv,” he said then looked over his shoulder and saw
her. “On second thoughts you’d better go with your family,” he ordered,
pushing her towards the others.
Disappointed, she joined the flock and they all strolled off after Bert who
was half-way up the opposite small hill.
“Ah well,” muttered Stan as he watched them go, “it was good while it
lasted. All those daughters!” He sighed wistfully and shook his head. “Might as
 89

well go and join them I suppose. It does get a bit chilly here at nights.
Probably be a nice fire on at Eric’s.”
He kicked over the statue of the Burning Ball, had a last look at his cave
then turned and walked away. He had just gone a few yards when something
in the sky caught his eye and he glanced up.
From behind some clouds the Sphere came streaking across the heavens.
There were still some flames licking round it from its entry into the planet’s
atmosphere and Stan’s mouth fell open when he saw it.
“The Burnin Ball!!” he muttered in awe. “Bloody hell!!”
The departing flock had seen it as well. They all stopped and looked up.
The Sphere was travelling fast straight across the sky and on its present
course would have disappeared over the horizon but suddenly it changed
course and plummeted down. With the flames still licking from it, it passed
directly above the flock and plunged into the small hill opposite.
Straight into Bert the Unbeliever.
There was a dull thump mingled with a strangled scream then silence.
Some flames flickered briefly round the spot then died.
“You fuckin beauty!!” Stan said gleefully, rubbing his hands together and
dancing with joy. “You fuckin beauty!!”
He dashed back up to his cave and righted the statue of the Burning Ball
before any of the others could see what he’d done. “Sorry about that,” he
muttered, dusting it off.
The flock had witnessed what had happened to Bert and were now
standing round in a huddle having a hurried debate. Moments later there was
a unanimous show of hands and they all turned and headed back up the hill.
Stan smiled as he watched them returning. “Great!” he muttered. “Here
come the daughters!”
He wiped the smile from his face and was bowing deferentially to the
Burning Ball statue as the flock arrived and stood in an untidy group in front of
him.
Stan finished a hasty low prayer then turned to them. “I told you he’d be
punished, didn’t I?” he said, pointing towards where Bert the Unbeliever lay
squashed on the opposite hill.
The flock nodded and glanced uncomfortably at each other.
“Well, see you then, I’ve got work to do,” Stan said and turned to go into his
cave.
“Hang on, Stan – we want a word with you,” Barry said quickly.
Stan pretended he hadn’t heard. “Sorry, what was that?” he asked.
“We want a word with you,” Barry repeated.
Stan strolled out in front of them and stood impassively with his arms
folded. “What is it then? Come on, come on, I’m a busy man.”
“Well we were wondering if we….if we….” Barry began then trailed off
under the stony stare of the Prophet.
“Yes? Yes? You were wondering what?” Stan asked.
Barry bit his lip. “We were wondering if we could come back to you?” he
muttered eventually.
“Oh you were, were you?” Stan said, nodding and raising his eyebrows. He
strolled round them slowly, savouring the moment. “How was the tree over at
Eric’s then, Barry?” he asked, peering into the unfortunate Barry’s face. “Have
a nice sit under it, did we?”
 90

Barry shifted uncomfortably.

“Have a nice heat at the fire did we?” Stan went on, glaring at Arthur.
“Feeling a bit warmer now are we?”
Arthur stared miserably at the ground.
“So everybody wants to come back to old Stan now, eh?” the Prophet went
on, strolling back to the mouth of his cave. “Everybody’s seen the error of their
ways and wants to return to the fold. That about the size of it?”
The flock nodded as they stared at the ground.
“Well you can all fuck off!!” Stan roared at them.
“Aw go on, Stan,” Arthur pleaded. “Take us back.”
The Prophet shook his head. “Go an sit under a tree with Eric.”
“We don’t want to,” whined Barry. “We want to come back to you.”
“Piss off,” replied Stan.
“You can have our daughters back,” Arthur generously offered.
Stan sneered at him.
“Go on, take them,” said Barry, pushing his young fur-clad bribe forward.
Stan ignored him and stared into the distance. “Since the Burnin Ball’s
arrived I’ll have to do new rituals,” he announced. “Special rituals. I’ll need two
daughters from each of you.”
“Two!?” Arthur complained loudly. “That’s a bit--”
“Ssshhh!” hissed Barry, nudging him.
“That’s no problem,” Arthur said, correcting himself.
“Yeah no problem,” agreed Barry.
They started to shove their daughters forward but Stan held up his hand.
“Hold it!” he said. “I’ve had all them, I mean I’ve performed rituals with
them. I need completely new ritual material because the Deity will soon
arrive.”
The flock muttered indignantly amongst themselves then realising they had
no choice reluctantly agreed to Stan’s terms. The daughters were dispatched
with orders to send back their sisters and cousins. Stan watched them go, the
light of anticipatory lust in his eyes.
“Does this mean we’re back in the fold then?” asked Barry.
Stan nodded.
“What comes after the Burnin Ball then?”
“Yeah go on, tell us,” prompted Arthur. “Tell us one of your sermons.
Enthral us, Stan.”
However Stan wasn’t really interested in divine revelations at the moment.
He kept glancing expectantly over the flock’s head, waiting for the new ritual
material to arrive.
“Well….after the Burnin Ball, the Deity shall not be long in arrivin,” he told
them half-heartedly.
“How long, Stan?” asked Barry.
“Oh….pretty soon,” the Prophet replied then grinned and rubbed his hands
together as he spied a group of new ritual material heading towards them.
A couple of minutes later, a group of fur-clad, giggling, attractive young
women pushed their way through the flock towards him.
“Afternoon ladies,” said Stan, eyeing them up. “In there,” he instructed,
jerking a thumb towards his cave.
The women obligingly trooped in.
 91

“Right, see you all later,” Stan told his flock, heading towards his cave. “I’ve
got rituals to perform.”
“Hang on, Stan,” Barry persisted. “Tell us about the Deity.”
“Yeah what’ll He be like?” said Arthur
Irritated, Stan looked round. “Oh, He’ll be…big…an powerful, you know, a
big, powerful Deity. Standard God type.”
“Is that it?” Barry asked disappointedly. “Can’t you tell us more?”
“I’ve told you enough!” snapped Stan. “You’ve already had the Burnin Ball
today. Want another miracle already? Have ye no faith? Want to go back to
Eric’s?”
The flock shook their heads.
“Well piss off,” Stan told them. “I’ve got rituals to perform.” He turned and
disappeared into his cave.
The flock waited hopefully in case he reappeared but it eventually dawned
on them that he wasn’t coming back out.
“We might as well stay here,” Barry said to Arthur. “In case we miss
anything.”
Arthur nodded and they all settled down in the shelter of some boulders
next to the Prophet’s abode.

PART TWO

Having successfully negotiated the corridor inside the Black Hole, Kharg’s
ship had come out into the new Universe. Immediately they had picked up the
traces of Hercurium from the Sphere and had followed the trail across space
arriving at the planet Here a day later. Now as Kharg drifted impatiently round
the bridge, Giraffe bent over his console and worked out the exact spot where
the Sphere went down.
“Come on! Come on!” rasped Kharg impatiently. “We don’t have much time.
The Klingers may already be down there.”
Giraffe looked up and grinned. “Got it!” he announced.
“Good,” rasped Kharg, drifting over. “Put it on screen.”
Giraffe punched some buttons on his console and the picture on the
forward observation screen changed to a close-up of Here. He telescoped the
view in closer and half-way up a small grassy hill they saw the small crater
where the Sphere had plunged down.
“There it is!” Kharg hissed triumphantly. “The Sphere!”
“So it is,” agreed Giraffe then peered closer at the screen. “What’s all that
red stuff round about it?”
Kharg stared at the screen. “Perhaps it is the colour of the soil on the
planet.”
Giraffe nodded. “Could be, Boss. The Sphere doesn’t seem to be attracting
much attention though, does it?”
“Perhaps the planet is uninhabited,” rasped Kharg. “Take a look round.”
As Giraffe panned round the immediate area, they both watched the screen
intently.
“There!” rasped Kharg, pointing a bony finger. “Over by that cave.
Something moved.”
Giraffe telescoped the view in again and they could see some fur-clad
shapes huddled together in the shelter of some boulders.
 92

“What the hell are they?” Giraffe muttered. “Goats?”

Kharg shook his head. “Primitives,” he rasped. “They should not give any
trouble.”
“Are we going down then?” Giraffe asked.
“I am,” replied Kharg. “You will remain on the ship.”
Giraffe’s face fell. “That means I’ll miss your next lot of special effects,” he
complained.
“You will see plenty when I destroy Earth,” rasped Kharg.
Giraffe grinned. “Oh yeah, that should be good,” he said. “I’m looking
forward to seeing that.”
“Check the scanners for the Klinger ship,” Kharg ordered.
Giraffe leaned forward and checked all his monitors. “Nope. There’s no sign
of them,” he said. “Just us.”
“Good. Keep the ship on a low orbit round the planet and inform me
immediately if anyone else appears,” Kharg rasped as he drifted on to the
Transporter Platform. “Send me down.”
 93

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Will the arrival of the Deity have a profound spiritual

effect on me? Of course it will. It’ll change me forever.
Plus I’ll prob’ly become Boss of Here with unlimited
access to all the lovely daughters….for ritual purposes
only you understand!”

STAN THE PROPHET

 94

PART ONE

Around the same time as Kharg was getting ready to beam down to Here,
Stan emerged from his cave yawning and scratching and looking extremely
satisfied. He took some deep breaths of the cold fresh morning air then
surveyed his flock who were still asleep in the shelter of some rocks.
“Prats!” he muttered, shaking his head contemptuously. “Burnin Balls. Gods
comin down from the skies. They’d believe anythin.”
“Staa-aan!” a woman’s voice called invitingly from the rear of his cave. “Oh
Staa-aan!”
The Prophet grinned as he heard her. “Time for another ritual,” he muttered
happily.
He glanced across to the spot on the opposite small hill where the Sphere
had plunged into Bert the Unbeliever and sniggered at the thought of it. Just
as he was turning away something caught his eye and he looked back.
A strange shimmering light had appeared next to the small crater where the
Sphere had plunged down and as he watched, the shimmering solidified and
suddenly someone was standing there. A tall strange figure wearing a long
flowing robe.
Stan’s mouth fell open. “Bloody hell!!” he muttered. “This is gettin serious!!
God’s here!!”
He shielded his eyes and took another long look just to make sure he
hadn’t imagined it all but the figure was still there, drifting around and
examining the ground.
Stan ran over to his flock and started kicking them awake. “Quick!! Quick!!
Get up!! Get up!!” he yelled at them. “God’s here!!”
As they started coming to, Stan left them and trotted downhill and half-way
up the other small hill, halting a reverential few yards away from the Deity.
“Mornin God,” he gushed, bowing several times, still a little breathless.
“How are you? Have a good journey?” He held out his hand. “Stan’s the
name. Stan the Prophet. Been doin a lot of work for you here, convertin the
heathen, performin rituals, that sort of thing.”
Kharg didn’t even look up.
Ignoring this Divine rebuff Stan strolled forward and watched with interest
as Kharg inspected the ground around the half buried Sphere.
“The gold stuff’s the Burnin Ball,” Stan explained helpfully then a smile
crept on to his face. “The red stuff’s Bert. Bert the Unbeliever.”
 95

Kharg continued to ignore the grubby bearded primitive and carried on with
his examination of the golden Sphere which had led him on a long journey
across space.
Since it had obviously served its purpose and had come to the end of its
journey he decided to see if the inside of it would surrender any further clues
as to the whereabouts of the all-powerful substance he sought.
“Stand back!” he rasped.
Stan quickly jumped back, well out of his way. Kharg raised his hand and
pointed a long bony finger. A thin blue line shot out from the end of it and
zapped into the Sphere, shattering it.
Stan’s eyes widened. “Blimey!” he muttered. “This God’s for real!”
Kharg drifted forward and was examining the inside of the Sphere as the
flock arrived. They stopped a respectful distance away, whispering and
pointing at him.
Stan turned when he heard them. “Told you He’d come, didn’t I?” he
bragged, swaggering over.
The flock nodded.
“Well come on then, show the Deity a bit of respect,” he ordered.
The men started shoving their wives and daughters forward.
“No, no! Not that!” snapped Stan. “Bow!”
The flock quickly got down on their knees and bowed their heads to the
ground.
Kharg continued to ignore them and had found a small golden Globe
amongst the remains of the Sphere. It was an exact replica of the Sphere and
after examining it he shoved it inside his robe.
Stan swaggered back over to him. “There you are, God,” he said proudly,
waving a hand at the flock. “Your followers. Trained them myself. Good, aren’t
they?”
Kharg glanced at the filthy fur-clad primitives bowed towards him and
wrinkled his nose in disgust. He brought out his Transceiver and flicked it
open. “Giraffe – have you finished the survey of the planet yet?” he rasped
into it.
“Just finished,” Giraffe replied.
“Does it show anything of interest?”
“There’s some sort of barrier running across the planet,” Giraffe told him. “It
separates one half from the other.”
Stan’s eyes widened again as he heard the voice from the Transceiver.
“More than one God is there?” he asked, drawing closer.
“Scanners pick it up,” Giraffe went on, “but it could be invisible to the eye.”
“There’s more than one of them!!” Stan shouted to the flock.
“Possibly a--”
“He’s talkin to the other God right now!!” Stan yelled, keeping the flock
informed. “Better than trees this, eh Barry!?”
“Silence!” Kharg hissed angrily.
Stan jumped back. “Sorry God,” he apologised.
“Possibly a force-field or some kind of invisible wall running across the
planet,” Giraffe continued.
“Wall?” picked up Stan. “You lookin for the wall that nobody sees?” he
asked.
 96

After warning Giraffe to stay alert, Kharg flicked off his Transceiver. “What
do you know of a wall?” he rasped.
“There’s a bloody big one runnin round our bit of the planet,” Stan told him.
“Trouble is, nobody can see it.”
Kharg’s oval eyes narrowed. “A permanent force-field,” he muttered to
himself. He brought the Pendant out from under his robe and examined it.
“And this will get me through it!”
“Bloody hell!” Stan exclaimed as he saw the Pendant. “You’ve got the key!”
“This is the key?” rasped Kharg. “Then you must know where the door is?”
“Oh yeah, I do,” Stan said, nodding. “We found it one day by accident,” he
went on conversationally. “Lookin for a way through the wall, we were, when
we found this little hole with designs in it just like that,” he said, pointing at the
Pendant.
“Show me where it is,” rasped Kharg.
Stan grinned and stepped closer. “In a hurry to find it are we, God?”
“I would like to find it soon,” Kharg replied, aware that the Klingers must be
somewhere close.
“It’s a big wall,” Stan said casually. “It would take you ages to find it.”
“Then show me the spot.”
Stan pulled at his straggly beard. “What’s in it for me?” he asked.
Kharg groaned and held his head. “Oh not another one!” he rasped wearily.
“I do somethin for you – you do somethin for me,” Stan said, winking and
tapping the side of his nose.
“What do you wish?” Kharg asked.
“Let me an the flock through the wall with you,” Stan told him. “Oh an show
me how to do that zappin bit.”
Kharg looked puzzled. “Zapping bit?” he queried.
“Yeah, you know, that zappin bit when the blue streak comes out,” Stan
replied, flicking his finger.
“The blue streak,” Kharg repeated and shook his head. “Agreed. Oh before
we go, has anyone else landed on your planet recently?”
Stan shook his head. “Nope. Only you, God.”
“Good,” rasped Kharg. “Now lead me to this place where the Pendant fits
into the wall.”
Stan folded his arms. “I want the zappin bit now!” he demanded.
Kharg’s eyes narrowed angrily but remembering how close the Klingers
might be, he controlled himself. “Stand still,” he ordered and raised his hands.
As Stan remained motionless a circling red light appeared above his head
and slowly began moving down over his body.
The flock were watching.
“What’s God doin to Stan?” a puzzled Barry asked.
“Dunno,” muttered Arthur. “Maybe it’s a ritual.”
“Naaa. You need a daughter when you’re doin that,” said Barry.
The red circle continued to move down gradually over Stan and then
disappeared into the ground.
Stan watched it go. “Is that it?” he asked.
Kharg nodded.
Stan flexed his index finger experimentally. A weak blue line dribbled out
the end of it. Startled, he jumped back and looked at his hand in awe. He
 97

flexed his finger again and a stronger blue line flashed past his head, narrowly
missing his ear.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “I’ll have to be careful with this.” He turned and
swaggered over to the flock. “Hey you lot – up on your feet!” he ordered.
The flock, who were still kneeling on the ground, got to their feet.
“Watch this,” Stan told them and looked round for a suitable target.
He spotted a rock, flexed his finger and pointed at it. A blue line instantly
shot out, streaked through the air and shattered the rock.
As one, the flock’s eyes widened and their mouths dropped open.
“How about that!” boasted Stan, parading up and down in front of them.
“Bet Eric couldn’t do that, Barry!?”
“Wow! That was pretty good, Stan,” said Barry. “Did God give you it?”
Stan nodded and gazed at his finger.
“Do another one, Stan,” Arthur encouraged him.
“Another one? No problem to Stan the Man,” bragged the Prophet.
“There’s a big one,” Arthur said, pointing to a large boulder about twenty
feet away.
“Right, watch this,” Stan told him.
He flexed his index finger then flicked it at the boulder. This time a thick
blue line streaked through the air and zapped into it. There was a small
explosion and rock fragments flew into the air.
Stan grinned triumphantly and turned back to the flock to receive their
acclaim then realised that the thick blue line was still shooting out of his finger.
“Oh shit!” he muttered as the line grew stronger and he lost control of it.
“Aaarrgghh! Stop! Stop!” he yelled.
The out of control blue line danced across the grass gouging holes in the
ground, blowing up more rocks, setting a bush on fire and then zapped into
one of the flock who screamed and fell.
The others immediately scattered.
“Turn the friggin thing off!!” Stan yelled over his shoulder to Kharg.
Seeing what was happening, Kharg snapped his fingers and the blue line
vanished.
“Shit! Bit of a close one that!” muttered a relieved Stan, blowing on his
finger. “Sorry about that, flock!” he shouted to the flock who had re-grouped
out of range. “I’ll have to practice.”
Barry cupped his hands to his mouth. “As long as it’s not on us, Stan!” he
yelled back.
Kharg meantime was growing extremely irritated at the antics of the
primitives. “Show me the wall!” he hissed. “Now!!”
“Oh yeah, the wall,” agreed Stan. “It’s up the other hill past my cave then
down at the other side.
“Let’s go,” ordered Kharg and drifted off.
Stan trotted along beside him and as soon as he was out of zapping range,
the flock followed.
As Stan struggled to keep up with Kharg he kept glancing enviously at the
effortless way he seemed to drift along.
“Don’t suppose you could show me how to do that driftin bit?” he panted.
Kharg’s yellow eyes flashed angrily at him.
“Forget it,” Stan said quickly.
 98

On the other side of the hill they halted near the bottom. The invisible wall
swung round here in a long loping curve and when Stan had caught his breath
he led the way over to it.
Kharg reached out towards it and his bony, tapering fingers tapped
something solid. “The force-field!” he rasped, triumph in his voice. “Where is
the door?”
Stan led the way along a narrow path with Kharg drifting along behind him
until they came to a spot near some trees. Stan halted and pointed to a small,
intricately patterned hole.
“Right there, God,” he said.
Kharg brought out the Pendant and compared its intricately carved outline
to the hole. Both looked as if they matched.
As he moved the Pendant closer to the force-field its carved base swung
round at a right angle, much to Stan’s amazement. Kharg inserted the base of
the Pendant into the hole and turned it. There was a loud click and the
Pendant swung away from him.
Stan ran his hand along the wall then it travelled through to the other side.
“You’ve done it, God!!” he exclaimed. “You’ve opened the wall that nobody
sees!!”
Kharg’s harsh laughter rang out and he drifted through. He removed the
Pendant from the lock then reached into his robe and brought out the small
gold Globe he’d found inside the Sphere. Immediately it started giving off a
high-pitched bleeping and he moved off with it in his open palm.
Behind him Stan waved to the flock. “Come on!” he yelled. “God’s leadin us
into the Promised Land!”

PART TWO

On the bridge of Kharg’s ship Giraffe had his feet up on his console and
was leaning back in his chair, dozing. If he’d remained alert as his Master had
instructed he would have noticed the lights above the Transporter Platform
flashing, indicating someone was beaming aboard.
The shimmering outline of three figures began to solidify and moments later
Draygo and two of his warriors materialised.
Giraffe woke at the insistent prodding of a laser rifle against his head.
Draygo grinned at him. “Where’s Kharg?” he asked.
Giraffe swallowed. “Down on the planet,” he squeaked.
“Did the Sphere land there?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it leading him to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kill him,” Draygo ordered casually.
“Wait! Wait!” Giraffe pleaded. “Kharg’s found some sort of invisible wall
running all the way across the planet. He’s got a Pendant that opens a door in
it.”
Draygo frowned. “What’s behind the wall?”
“There’s supposed to be some sort of really powerful mysterious substance
that’s going to allow him to rule the Universe.”
Draygo’s frown deepened. “What the hell is it?”
 99

Giraffe shrugged his small shoulders. “Even Kharg doesn’t know. He won’t
till he finds it.”
“Is he still looking for it?”
Giraffe nodded.
Draygo’s frown cleared and an evil grin spread over his face. “In that case
I’ll let him find it for me – then I’ll take it.” He turned to his two warriors. “Set
the charges,” he ordered.
The troops removed their backpacks, took out some explosives and set
them at various points round the bridge.
Draygo slapped a Transporter Bracelet round Giraffe’s arm and lifted him
by the collar over to the Platform. “Beam us back,” he said into his
Transceiver.
The four figures shimmered and vanished, re-appearing moments later
back on the Mother Ship. Draygo lifted Giraffe by the collar again and carried
him across the bridge, dumping him in front of the forward observation screen
where Kharg’s ship could be seen.
“Watch,” Draygo ordered then nodded to his First Officer.
The First Officer pressed a button on his console and Kharg’s ship erupted
in a brilliant orange and red explosion.
“Oh shit!” muttered Giraffe. “The Boss isn’t going to like this!”
Draygo grinned and turned away from the screen. Behind him, a dozen
heavily armed warriors had lined up on the Transporter Platform. He strode
over and joined them.
“Beam us down to the planet,” he ordered.

PART THREE

“I’m picking up a high energy generation from inside the planet’s

atmosphere,” Lieutenant Youhoor announced.
“An explosion?” Captain Kork asked.
“Possibly sir,” replied Youhoor.
Like Kharg and the Klingers, the Orion had travelled through the corridor
inside the Black Hole and had come out into the new Universe. They had
followed the Hercurium traces across space and they had led to the planet
Here which they were now studying on their forward observation screen.
Mr Sprock’s ears were currently in normal mode and he too was studying
the screen. “Since the planet obviously has no defence systems,” he said,
“then either the Klingers have destroyed Kharg’s ship or Kharg has destroyed
the Mother Ship.”
The Captain nodded agreement. “Which means we might be the next
target. Any ships on the scanners?” he asked Youhoor.
“Negative sir.”
The Captain stared thoughtfully at the screen. “Whoever destroyed the
other ship could be using a Cloak I suppose,” he mused.
“Does the Mother Ship have one?” Mr Sprock asked.
“Yes they do. Dennis told me,” the Captain replied, grinning as he thought
of one of their Klinger prisoners.
“In that case I would say that the Klingers have destroyed Kharg’s ship.”
“Yes, I accept your reasoning, Mr Sprock,” said the Captain. “The next
question is this – was Kharg aboard at the time?”
 100

The Orion’s First Officer arched an eyebrow as he gave the matter his
consideration. “I would say no, Captain,” he eventually answered. “Kharg is
too clever to be caught out by the Klingers, even if their ship does have a
Cloak.”
“In that case he must be down on the planet somewhere.”
Sprock nodded. “Probably searching for the mysterious substance he told
us about when we were held prisoner on Dulcodaz.”
Captain Kork pursed his lips. “So Kharg is down on the planet and the
Klingers are still inside its atmosphere, perhaps waiting for us,” he summed
up. He turned to Mr Zulu. “Take a fix on that explosion and make sure we stay
well away from it,” he ordered.
“Yez boz,” Zulu replied.
As the Orion headed away in the opposite direction from the explosion, the
Captain ordered a profile on the planet below. The forward observation screen
view of space changed to a slowly revolving view of Here and they could see
its mountains, oceans, valleys and rivers.
Mr Sprock studied it closely. “There appears to be a barrier separating one
half of the planet from the other,” he said. “Possibly some sort of force-field.”
“What purpose would that serve?” queried the Captain.
“I’m not sure,” replied Sprock. “Tap in a predicted landing area for the
Sphere,” he instructed Crackers.
Crackers complied and on the screen they could see that the Sphere had
landed fairly close to the force-field.
“Give me a close up of the landing area,” Sprock requested.
The view telescoped in and as it slowly panned round, he spotted
something.
“Freeze the view,” he ordered Crackers. “Change to infra-red.” On the
screen the view changed colour and he pointed to something. “There, at the
bottom of the hill,” he said to the Captain. “I think there’s a gap in the force-
field.”
The Captain leaned forward and studied the screen. “You’re correct Mr
Sprock,” he agreed. “There is a gap.”
“This force-field must have been what the Sphere was leading Kharg to,”
Sprock went on. “What we don’t know is how he created the gap in it.”
“The Pendant!” exclaimed the Captain. “That damn Pendant! He must have
used it to get through the force-field somehow.” He turned and glared at Ricky
who sank further down in the couch he was lounging on.
“That sounds logical,” said Sprock. “Kharg did say the Pendant would help
him to reach the mysterious substance he was searching for.”
“In that case he may already have it,” the Captain said, standing up. “I think
it’s time we went down and investigated.”
“Agreed, Jim,” replied Sprock.
“Mr Bradley – take charge while I’m gone,” the Captain instructed as they
strolled over to the Transporter Platform. “Keep the Orion well away from the
fix we took on the explosion. Call every thirty minutes to check if we’re ready
to beam back.”
“Yes sir!” replied Butch, snapping out a salute.
Lieutenant Youhoor pushed forward the Transporter levers and on the
Platform, the Captain and Mr Sprock shimmered then vanished.
 101

Moments later they materialised at the foot of the hill next to the path where
Stan had led Kharg. After a quick search they found the force-field and feeling
their way along it found the still open doorway.
“Kharg must have used the Pendant,” the Captain said, examining the
intricately designed lock. “It looks as if it would have fitted into this.”
“I suggest we move through,” said Sprock. “If we climb that small hill we
may be able to spot him.”
The Captain nodded and they strolled into the Promised Land. They began
to climb the small hill, skirting a forest on their left but they had only gone a
hundred yards when two accurately fired beams from a couple of stun guns
caught them and they dropped to the grass, unconscious.

PART FOUR

Allowing himself to be guided by the strength of the bleeping from the small
gold Globe, Kharg had drifted through the forest along a wide path. The path
eventually led to a grassy clearing which was surrounded by several caves.
Kharg drifted into the centre of the grassy clearing and stopped. With the
gold Globe in his palm, he held out his hand and slowly moved it round. When
he was pointing towards one of the caves the bleeping from the Globe grew
continuous and he drifted forward and entered the cave.
Stan waited in the clearing but the flock remained back on the path,
preferring to remain a discreet distance from his index finger in case he felt
compelled to give them another demonstration of his zapping power.
A few minutes later Kharg drifted back out of the cave carrying two caskets,
one gold and one silver. He set them down on the grass and a curious Stan
strolled up to see what they contained.
Kharg opened the silver casket and inside were hundreds of small glass
phials, stacked neatly on folding velvet rows. Each phial contained a tiny
amount of a thick jet black liquid.
“What’s all that stuff then, God?” Stan asked.
Kharg ignored him and carefully removed one of the small phials and laid it
on the grass. He drifted back from it a little, closed his eyes and slowly raised
his hands.
As he did so the glass phial rose into the air and hung motionless six feet
above the grass. Kharg opened his eyes and looked round for a suitable
target.
Some distance behind the caves there was a small mountain and Kharg
drifted round and positioned himself behind the phial. He sucked in a deep
breath and blew sharply towards it. The phial flew into the air high above the
caves and headed towards the small mountain.
Half way up the mountain the phial smashed into a large boulder. There
was a tremendous thundering explosion and the entire mountain began to
disintegrate, starting an avalanche of rocks and boulders. More explosions
followed and the mountain seemed to collapse in on itself.
A couple of minutes later when the dust and smoke had cleared, the small
mountain was gone.
Stan let out a long low appreciative whistle. “Bloody hell, God!” he said.
“You’ve disappeared a mountain!”
 102

Kharg’s thin lips twisted in a triumphant smile.

“What was in that little thing you blew at the mountain?” he asked.
“Anti-Matter!” hissed Kharg and his harsh laughter rang round the clearing.
He drifted forward and opened the gold casket. Inside, on a thick velvet
lining, was one giant glass phial. It too contained the jet black Anti-Matter. A
very large amount of it.
Kharg picked it up carefully and stroked it. “Imagine what several of these
will do to Earth!” he hissed.
“Earth?” questioned Stan. “Is that another mountain?”
Kharg ignored him. “And when the other planets witness the destruction of
Earth,” he hissed, “it won’t take much to persuade them that there is a new
Master of the Universe – me!”
Stan meantime was eyeing the silver casket with its hundreds of small
phials. “Don’t suppose you could spare one or two of them?” he asked,
nodding at the phials.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” rasped Kharg. “Now summon your flock. I have work
for them.”
“The flock? No problem, God,” said Stan. He turned and yelled at his
followers. “Hey you lot! Get up here sharpish! God needs you!”
The flock, who had hidden behind some trees after the destruction of the
mountain, appeared and slowly joined Stan in the clearing.
“There you are, God – your flock. Yours to command.”
Kharg pointed to the cave where he had found the caskets. “Go into the
cave,” he ordered them. “You will find many gold and silver caskets. Bring
then out.”
Under Stan’s watchful eye the flock entered the cave and then reappeared,
each carrying a gold or silver casket, giving a total of twenty.
“Follow me,” rasped Kharg when the last of them appeared and he began
drifting back along the path which led to the force-field.
When they reached the edge of the forest Kharg halted and allowed the
flock to catch up, making sure his precious caskets were being carried with
care.
As he turned back to resume the short journey down to the doorway, some
movement near the force-field caught his attention. Two figures were standing
beside it, massaging their necks.
“Kork!” hissed Kharg angrily. “And the Bulcan!”
Stan’s eyes widened as he too caught sight of the figures. “Blimey!” he
muttered. “More Gods!”
Kharg drifted down to the force-field doorway near the trees and surveyed
the Captain and Mr Sprock. “So, you are still alive?” he rasped mockingly.
“Still alive,” said the Captain, wincing as he felt his neck where the shot
from the stun gun had struck him. “And still determined to stop you.”
“Nothing can stop me now,” rasped Kharg. He beckoned one of the flock
forward and took the silver casket from him and laid it on the ground and
opened it. “The legend was true,” he rasped, indicating the casket. “I now
have the substance which will allow me to destroy Earth.”
“What is the substance?” the Captain asked.
“Anti-Matter!” Kharg hissed triumphantly. “Twenty caskets of it!”
The Captain and Mr Sprock exchanged glances.
 103

Interested, Mr Sprock strolled over for a closer look. “Very ingenious, Jim,”
he said. “The Anti-Matter is contained in individual small glass ampoules.
There appears to be a barrier between it and the glass. Probably a layer of
Protion-Lassa particles. It’s the only chemical which can come into contact
with Anti-matter without being destroyed. It works by discharging ultra fast
negative—“
“Enough!” Kharg hissed angrily. “It is of no interest. Now step away, the two
of you.”
The Captain grinned. “The Anti-Matter won’t do you much good,” He told
Kharg. “The force-field’s closed up and there’s another Pendant in the lock.
You won’t be able to use the one you have.”
Kharg drifted over and examined the doorway and discovered that the
Captain was telling the truth.
“I have no need of the Pendant any more,” he rasped, drifting back over to
the open silver casket. He reached in and withdrew one of the small glass
phials then drifted back twenty feet. He raised his arm to throw the phial and
everyone dived for cover.
The phial flew threw the air and shattered against the force-field. There was
another thundering explosion and when the smoke cleared, Kharg drifted
forward.
His progress was halted when he bumped into the force-field which despite
the attention of the Anti-Matter was still intact.
On the other side of the force-field, General Draygo stepped out from
behind some trees, grinning.
“General Draygo,” rasped Kharg. “We meet again.”
“Indeed we do, Kharg,” said Draygo and bowed mockingly.
“Well I’ll be dipped in mammoth shit!” muttered Stan. “Even more Gods!!”
“Klingers,” the Captain said to Sprock. “They must have ambushed us
when we were walking up the hill earlier.”
Sprock nodded and gingerly rubbed his neck at the memory of the stun gun
shot.
“As you can see – my copy of the Pendant is in the lock, so yours won’t get
you out,” Draygo told Kharg. “We have also destroyed your ship. Perhaps
you’ll recognise this voice.” He flicked open his Transceiver. “Draygo to
bridge,” he said into it. “Let the dwarf talk.”
There was a strangled yelp from the Transceiver followed by Giraffe’s
unmistakable voice. “You didn’t have to do that!” he complained. “I was going
to talk….hello Boss, can you hear me?”
“He can hear you,” snapped Draygo. “Tell him.”
“You’re not going to like this, Boss,” Giraffe said, “but the Klingers have
destroyed our ship. I fought like a lion but the ugly bastards aarrgghhh!!”
Draygo flicked off his Transceiver. “Convinced?” he asked.
Kharg nodded.
A grin spread over Draygo’s ugly face. “I think it’s time to make a deal,” he
said. “You can’t get through the force-field and even if you could you’ve no
ship.”
“What do you propose?” rasped Kharg.
“That we join forces,” Draygo told him. “We can easily destroy Earth with
some of the Anti-Matter then with your powers and the might of the Klinger
fleets we can carve up the Universe between us.”
 104

Under the circumstances this wasn’t too bad a deal for Kharg. “I agree,” he
rasped, “however I shall protect the Anti-Matter with my own force-fields in
case you decide to kill me when I come through.”
Draygo nodded. “Agreed,” he said.
Kharg ordered the flock to come forward one by one and deposit their silver
or gold casket next to him and as they did so, he raised his hands and a
circling purple light appeared above the casket then passed over it and into
the ground.
“Finished,” he rasped as the last casket was protected by his own force-
field. “Even if you kill me you will be unable to open the caskets.”
Draygo nodded again then stepped forward and put his hand on the
Pendant but didn’t turn it. “What about Kork and the Bulcan?” he asked.
“Kill them,” rasped Kharg.
Draygo stroked his lumpy face as he considered this. “Is your Pendant the
original?” he asked.
Kharg nodded.
“Is there any other way out apart from this door?”
“None.”
“Then let’s leave them in there to rot.”
“As you wish,” rasped Kharg.
“We’ll stay too!” piped up Stan. “Won’t we flock?”
The flock all nodded enthusiastically.
Draygo turned the Pendant and opened the door. He stepped through and
immediately covered the Captain and Mr Sprock with his laser pistol. “Move
and you’re history,” he told them.
Wisely, the Captain and Mr Sprock remained still.
As they watched, Draygo ordered his warriors through and each of them
picked up two of the gold and silver caskets then moved back to the other
side of the force-field then Kharg drifted through. Draygo pulled the door
closed, tuned the Pendant then removed it.
“Throw it in the air,” ordered Kharg.
Draygo glanced at him then shrugged and did as he was asked.
Kharg lifted his hand and pointed his index finger upwards. A blue line
streaked out and zapped into the Pendant, shattering it. He then did the same
with his own.
Draygo grinned and handed Kharg a Transporter Bracelet. He strolled over
to the force-field and sneered at the Captain and Mr Sprock. “Now we destroy
Earth,” he told them then threw his head back and laughed. He turned and
strolled over to Kharg and his warriors then flicked open his Transceiver.
“Beam us back,” he ordered.
He was still grinning maliciously as they all shimmered and vanished.
 105

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
 106

PART ONE

As soon as Kharg and Draygo had vanished, the Captain took out his
Transceiver. “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
communication 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
say, 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
force-field and stopped in front of it. With his hands by his side, he flexed his
fingers a few times then suddenly pointed his right index finger at the force-
field 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
himself then stared meanly at the force-field for a few seconds before drawing
his ‘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
that zappin bit. That just shows you what God’s like, doesn’t it?” he ranted.
“Soon as He gets what He wants, He’s off. Bugger his faithful followers. An
 107

after us waitin years for the bastard.” He glanced at the Captain and Mr
Sprock who were curiously watching his outburst. “Do you Gods want any
followers?” he asked hopefully, 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
couple of times but you didn’t respond so I thought I’d beam down and see if
big brother needed rescuing…again.” Ricky grinned then drew slowly on a
long fat cigarette he was smoking.
“Well we certainly need rescuing,” big brother told him. “We’re trapped on
the other side of a force-field,” he explained, tapping it. “We’ll need some
equipment from the Orion to try and get us out.”
“We won’t need any equipment from the ship,” drawled Ricky, bringing
something out of an inside pocket.
“The Pendant!” the Captain said in amazement. “Where the hell did you get
that?”
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,”
Ricky 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,
especially Klinger prisoners but like Kharg before him, he didn’t really have
much choice. “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.
“Captain 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
clustered 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.
 108

The Captain smiled and waved to him. Moments later their outlines began
shimmering then they all vanished.
Stan shook his head. “This has been some day for Gods,” he muttered,
then turned back to his flock. “Right Barry an Arthur – let’s get to work,” he
said, grinning and rubbing his hands together. “Stan the man can see there’s
a killing to be made out of this little number!”

PART TWO

“Did you see the Klinger Mother Ship leaving on your scanner?” the
Captain asked 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
everybody 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
told him.
The Captain frowned. “How did you manage that? We don’t have any
Klinger codes.”
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
problem 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
way and meet him.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say. He just gave orders for them to form up and start heading
towards 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
Sprock. “With Earth as their first target.”
Butch whistled softly. “Nasty,” he admitted.
“A fine understatement, Mr Bradley,” the Captain said and strolled over to
his 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 from Here. As soon as they had left its atmosphere the Captain
contacted the Engine Room.
“Jocky?”
“Aye surr?”
 109

“As soon as we’re through the Black Hole I’ll want Warped Speed,
Maximum Factor.
“Aye aye, surr!” replied Jocky. “That’s Warped Speed, Max Factor. Nae
problem.”
“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
himself 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 destruction 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
bent 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
gravity 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
work. Lieutenant Youhoor flicked a view of the Hole’s surface on to one of her
monitors 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 position 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
corridor 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 back and forth, all they saw was the Hole’s undulating black surface. There
was definitely no corridor entrance anymore.
The Captain leaned forward to his console and contacted the Engine
Room. “Jocky – can we turn back?”
“No surr,” came the reply. “The Hole’s pull is too much for us. We havnae
the power.”
“Zero speed then,” the Captain ordered then leaned back in his chair and
studied the screen. “Return screen to normal view,” he ordered Crackers then
 110

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…
two 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
then 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 slumped forwards onto his console, his arm dragging over the instrument
panel.
The Orion was jerked off course and went into a screaming sideways dive,
throwing 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 to 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,
four point….” he began then trailed off and shook his head several times as if
trying 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
slumped 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,
collapsed himself. He tried to get back to his feet but couldn’t find the strength
and 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
observation screen – the undulating surface of the Black Hole filled the screen
and the Orion was heading towards it, well off course.
 111

He made one last determined effort to stand up but his body felt as if it was
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
smoking another of his fat cigarettes and he grinned as he saw everyone
slumped in their seats or lying on the floor.
“Been having a party, eh?” he drawled. He wandered over to the Captain’s
chair, 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
muttered.
He stared at the screen for a few moments watching the Hole’s undulating
black surface.
“Shouldn’t we be heading towards a corridor or some shit like that?” he
asked, looking round.
No-one answered him.
He rose unsteadily to his feet and swayed over to Crackers’ console. “Now
let’s see, where the hell are we?” he muttered and began fiddling with the
instruments.
“Twenty seconds.”
In response to Ricky’s fiddling, the Orion slowly began swinging round to its
correct course. He drew deeply on his cigarette and exhaled slowly, watching
the screen.
“Ten seconds.”
Gradually the view on the observation screen began to change and the jet
black 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
Captain’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
themselves up from the floor and straightening up at their consoles, everyone
wondering 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 any
more?”
“And falling asleep at the same time,” said Sprock. “The only person not
affected seems to have been your brother.”
They glanced over at Ricky who was sprawled on one of the bridge
couches, smoking contentedly and staring dreamily at the observation screen.
 112

“That’s because he was already hypnotised by something else,” the

Captain said 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
crashing into the surface of the Black Hole after the entire bridge crew were
hypnotised 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 watch 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 him. Captain out.”
On the other side of the bridge, Butch Bradley was bent over his console
pretending 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
‘PROMISED LAND’ had been crudely lettered in goat’s blood and was
propped up next to the 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. Just inside the doorway and blocking the entrance stood Barry and
Arthur, each wielding a large wooden club.
“Next!” yelled Stan.
A middle-aged man and his family detached themselves from the crowd
and approached.
“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
which 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
back.
“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 inside 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.
 113

“Sure,” replied Stan, throwing an arm round his shoulder and leading him
into the Promised Land. “But you’ll have to wait until somebody snuffs it.
We’re pretty 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,” he 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 want 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
yelled.
Another middle-aged man and his family approached. The man’s wife was
extremely 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
prominent 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
them. “Tell you what, I’ll let you on the guided tour for that,” he said, pointing
at it.
The man sighed. “All right,” he agreed then sidled closer to Stan. “Don’t you
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
Promised Land and joined the group waiting for the guided tour.
“Next!” yelled Stan.
 114

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Why is a Klinger like a fly? Because they both eat

shit and irritate people.”

BUTCH BRADLEY
 115

PART ONE

CAPTAIN’S LOG : STARDATE 504.23

The Orion successfully travelled back through the corridor inside the Black
Hole and we returned to our own Universe. We are now heading towards
Earth at Warped Speed to try and prevent it’s destruction by Kharg and the
Klingers. Lieutenant Youhoor is keeping a constant vigil at her monitors in the
hope that we might intercept more coded messages from General Draygo to
the Klinger fleet. After my announcement about Kharg’s hypnotic powers and
the distance his hypnosis can cover, the crew remain on the alert but so far
there’s been no sign of any more trouble.

PART TWO

“Have you picked anything up yet, Lieutenant?” the Captain asked,

swivelling round in his chair.
“Nothing so far, sir,” replied Youhoor.
“Keep listening,” the Captain instructed. “There’s still time.”
As he was swivelling back in his chair, the bridge door swished open and a
frightened looking Ensign Cool stumbled in. He was carrying a large box and
behind him Butch Bradley stood in the doorway, a deranged gleam in his
eyes.
Butch had discarded his uniform in favour of a black combat cap, black
jump suit and knee length black boots. A cigar was clamped between his
teeth and his ivory handled laser pistols were in his hands.
“Freeze mothers!” he yelled.
Startled, the bridge crew looked up.
“You’re out of uniform, Mr Bradley,” the Captain said calmly.
Butch sneered at him. “You’re out of uniform, you mean!” he snapped then
glanced round. “You all are. This Unit is a damned disgrace. It’s time it was
kicked into shape and I’m just the man to do it. Yes sir, General Butch
Bradley’s just the man to do it. Pass round the proper uniforms,” he ordered
the Ensign.
“Mr Bradley, why don’t we—“ the Captain began.
 116

Butch silenced him by squeezing off a short burst from one of his lasers,
disintegrating a small console.
“Show some respect when you’re addressing a senior officer, boy!” he
ordered. “It’s General to you! Understand?”
The Captain exchanged glances with Mr Sprock. “Yes General,” he replied.
“That’s better,” said Butch, chewing on his cigar. “Haven’t you started
passing round those uniforms yet!?” he yelled at Ensign Cool.
Ensign Cool jumped then began moving round the bridge crew handing out
the new uniforms. These consisted of dresses, bras and panties, swimming
costumes, some American football shirts and baseball caps.
“Right – out of those scruffy rags and into your correct uniforms. Now!”
General Bradley yelled, squeezing off another short burst from one of his
lasers.
The bridge crew shrugged at each other and began peeling off their
uniforms and taking their new outfits, haphazardly handed to them by Ensign
Cool.
“He’s obviously been hypnotised by Kharg,” Mr Sprock muttered to the
Captain as they were changing.
The Captain nodded. “Play along with him,” he whispered. “We’ll disarm
him at the first opportunity.”
“Line up for inspection!” yelled the General.
Sniggering at each other despite the seriousness of the situation, the bridge
crew lined up. First in the row was the Captain. General Bradley stepped
forward and inspected the American football shirt, shorts and women’s high
heeled shoes he was wearing.
“That’s more like it,” the General said, nodding approvingly. “How are you,
Sergeant?”
“Fine sir,” replied the Captain, fighting back a smile.
The General leaned closer to him. “How’s morale in the outfit?” he
whispered.
“Pretty good, sir,” the Captain told him.
Butch nodded. “It’ll be even better when I’m done with it,” he replied and
moved on.
Mr Sprock was next in line. He was dressed in a pink frilly dress and a pair
of combat boots. His ears, large human-type ones, were sticking out nearly at
right angles to his head.
“With ears like that you must be the radio operator,” General Bradley said,
causing muted sniggering amongst the troops. “Get back to your post. Try and
raise HQ for me.”
“Yes sir,” Mr Sprock answered and marched over to the communication
consoles.
Next in the row and wearing a very low cut t-shirt and a thong was
Lieutenant Youhoor. The General slowly looked her up and down, his eyes
lingering on her ample brown bosom which was spilling out of the t-shirt.
“What the hell are those, soldier?” he asked.
Youhoor glanced down. “Why sir, they’re my--”
“I know what they are,” Butch interrupted. “They’re abscesses. Pretty damn
big ones at that. I admire your guts, boy – trying to stay at your post with
things like that. You must be in a lot of pain. Get down to the Sick Bay and get
them lanced.”
 117

Lieutenant Youhoor bit her lip to stop herself laughing. “Yes sir,” she said,
saluting and leaving.
Simon, the Orion’s Beautician, was next in line. He was attired in black bra,
panties, stockings, suspenders and high heels.
The General grinned at him. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?” he
asked.
“Why I’m a soldier, sir,” Simon replied coyly, fluttering his eyelashes.
The General roared with laughter. “Soldier my ass!” he drawled. “You’re
one of them pretty little whorehouse gals that follow the army around, ain’t
you?”
Having long had more than a sneaking admiration for Butch and
immediately sensing the possibilities of the situation, Simon pouted girlishly
and nodded.
“I knew it,” the General said, slapping one of his lasers against his thigh
and then holstering it. “Thought you could fool the ole General, eh?” he
chided, tickling Simon under the chin.
Simon patted his hair and fluttered his eyelashes.
“You’ll do as my Secretary,” General Bradley decided. “Stay close to me.”
“Try and stop me,” murmured a delighted Simon.
The diminutive Crackers was next in the row. He too was wearing an
American football shirt which was several sizes too large for him and which
further ridiculed his height.
The General looked him up and down. “Life’s too short to worry about – and
so are you!” he said and moved on.
Last in the line was Mr Zulu. He was wearing baggy white shorts and had a
pair of boxing gloves on.
“What the hell’s the meaning of this, boy?” the General asked, running a
finger over his dusky brown chest. “You’re filthy!”
Zulu glanced down. “But General, that’s ma skin,” he replied. “Ah’s
coloured.”
“Bull!” snapped Butch. “You’re filthy! Get the hell into the showers, boy. I
won’t tolerate poor hygiene in my outfit.”
“Yez boz,” said Zulu. He saluted then cartwheeled his way out of the
bridge.
General Bradley waved his laser in the air. “Everybody back to their posts!”
he ordered.
The depleted bridge crew returned to their positions, the Captain taking
over Zulu’s position at the Navigator’s console and Mr Sprock taking
Lieutenant Youhoor’s position at the Communications console.
General Bradley naturally took over the Captains chair and settled himself
into it with Simon perched on his knee.
“Now for some real action!” the Orion’s new Commander announced,
grinning happily. “Let’s blow the shit outa some Commies!” He turned to the
Captain. “Plot me a course for Cuba, boy,” he ordered.
The Captain frowned. “Cuba? That’s impossible, General,” he told him.
“Why?”
“It doesn’t exist any more.”
“I mean the planet Cuba, not the country, you dickhead!” snapped the
General.
 118

The Captain cleared his throat and tried to hide a slight blush but failed.
“The planet Cuba. Very well, General,” he said and bent over his console to
plot a course.
A minute later he had the details and he passed the co-ordinates to
Crackers. Shortly afterwards the Orion changed course and still travelling at
Warped Speed, veered away towards its new destination. Unfortunately for
the threatened planet Earth, this was several million space miles in the wrong
direction.

PART THREE

The one hundred ships in the Klinger battle fleet winked their lights in salute
as the Mother Ship approached and a satisfied smile broke over General
Draygo’s ugly face as he watched them on his forward observation screen.
The outermost ships parted to make way for him and slowly the inner ones
followed suit. Within fifteen minutes of the rendezvous the Mother Ship was at
the centre of the fleet with the other ships spread in protective circles around
it.
When all the ships were in position, the Fleet Commanders beamed across
to speak personally with Draygo and Kharg and draw up their battle plans.
They were in conference for nearly an hour and after the celebratory drinks,
Draygo had himself relayed through the fleet so he could address the troops.
“Klinger warriors,” he said to the several thousand who were watching on
their observation screens, “your names will live forever in the history of our
planet!”
This brought cheering and whistling from the troops.
“Shortly we will embark on a mission against our oldest and most hated
enemy - Earth. Only this time we are guaranteed victory - we are going to
attack and destroy the planet Earth! When we are finished, Earth will no
longer exist!!”
This brought even louder cheering and whistling. Klingers by nature liked
destroying and blowing things up. The fact that they were going to destroy
Earth which was at the centre of the hated Federation was a bonus.
“Before now,” Draygo went on, “such a mission would have been
impossible but this time we have a weapon which gives us supreme
advantage. We have a weapon which can’t be beaten and can’t be destroyed.
He paused dramatically then bent down and opened one of Kharg’s gold
caskets, revealing a giant phial of jet black Anti-Matter. He showed it to the
warriors. “Anti-Matter!” he announced triumphantly.
“Anti-Matter!! Anti-Matter!!” chanted the warriors, all of them completely
ignorant of what it was or what it could do.
“It would only take two or three of these giant containers to destroy Earth,”
Draygo informed them, “and we have to thank our new ally, Kharg, for
generously offering to share it with us.”
An unwilling Kharg drifted up beside Draygo and bowed stiffly to the troops.
“Kharg!! Kharg!! Kharg!!” they chanted.
Draygo waited until they were quiet again. “After we destroy Earth there will
be little resistance left in the other Federation planets,” he continued. “They
will surrender or face the same fate. We shall easily dominate them then the
Klingers and Kharg can take their rightful place in the Universe – as its rulers!”
 119

The prolonged cheering, whistling and yelling that followed went on for a
couple of minutes as the Klinger troops celebrated their forthcoming world
domination.
When the noise had died down Draygo began explaining the details of their
battle tactics to them.
Despite the tremendous advantage that possession of the Anti-Matter and
an alliance with Kharg had given General Draygo, there was a slight problem
with his carefully worked out plan.
Although it had seemed a clever idea to him to rendezvous with the Fleet
near a rebel planet which was sponsored by the Klinger Empire and which he
considered a safe area from which to launch his devastating attack on Earth,
unfortunately for him it just happened to be the worst place he could possibly
have picked. It was the planet Cuba.

PART FOUR

“How long till we reach Cuba, boy?” a cigar-chewing General Bradley

asked.
“Thirty minutes, sir,” the Captain told him.
The General nodded. “Only thirty minutes? Good. Makes me feel kinda
warm inside knowing we’re gonna waste those Commie faggot bastards.
What d’you say, honey?” he asked Simon who was still perched on his knee.
“Oh you big strong hunks are all the same,” Simon scolded, stroking the
back of Butch’s neck. “Always wanting to fight and kill and--”
“General!” Sprock interrupted from the Communications Console. “I think
there’s something you should see.”
“What the hell is it, soldier?”
Mr Sprock transferred what he had spotted on one of the scanners to the
forward observation screen.
“My God!” the Captain muttered softly when he saw it.
The scanner had picked up the one hundred strong Klinger battle fleet with
the Mother Ship at the centre and this was now the view on the observation
screen.
“Klingers?” the Captain asked, glancing round at Sprock.
“Klingers plus Kharg plus Anti-Matter,” he replied.
“Commies!” shouted General Bradley, jumping up excitedly and forgetting
Simon who was dumped on the floor. “Let’s waste the mothers!”
The Captain groaned and held his head.
“Taking into account that we’re vastly outnumbered, don’t you think it would
be more prudent to withdraw, General?” suggested Sprock.
“You mean run away?” spat Butch in disgust. He squared his shoulders and
puffed out his chest. “General Butch Bradley never ran away from a fight in
his life,” he stated proudly. “Especially with Commies. No, soldier, we don’t
withdraw – we attack!”
“There is a strong possibility that the enemy may have Anti-Matter in their
possession, General,” Sprock warned. “Are you aware how powerful a
substance that is?”
 120

“Of course I am, jug ears,” the General retorted then grinned at them all. “It
just so happens that we’ve got the best weapon of all,” he said, glancing
round at everyone. “Surprise!”
Simon had by now picked himself up and was fussily dusting himself off.
Butch helped him up then patted his black-pantied bottom.
“You run along now, honey,” he said. “The General’s got work to do. This
ain’t no place for little girls. Go and wait for me in my cabin.”
Simon fought to contain his excitement. He had dreamed about such an
invitation during the voyage but realistically had never expected one. “Okay
General,” he replied coyly, walking his fingers up Butch’s chest and playfully
stroking his chin. “I’ll keep that big bed warm for you.”
The General grinned broadly as he watched him mince out of the bridge.
“Cute little ass!” he remarked then returned to his seat and swivelled round to
the observation screen and studied it. “Which of them ships would be carrying
this Anti-Matter then?” he asked.
“The large one in the centre,” Sprock told him. “The Mother Ship.”
General Bradley chewed on his cigar as he looked at it. “So if we hit this
Mother Ship with the Anti-Matter it would explode and take the rest of the fleet
with it, eh?”
Slightly interested, the Captain studied the screen with him. “You know,
General, you could be right.”
“Course I’m right!” the General retorted. “There’s only one problem – how
do we get a clear shot at the Mother ship?”
The Klinger battle fleet was arranged in decreasing circles with the huge
battle cruisers on the outside and then the smaller faster attack ships and the
supply vessels on the inside, with the Mother Ship at the centre.
General Bradley however had found a way. “One shot will do it!” he
announced and thumped the arm of his chair.
The Captain glanced at him. “How?”
“Shields!” the General replied triumphantly.
The Captain glanced over at Mr Sprock who shrugged and shook his head.
“Gimmie a pointer!” the General demanded, snapping his fingers.
Crackers searched through one of his console drawers and found him one.
Butch took it and strolled over to the observation screen. While his back was
turned Crackers drew a small laser pistol from the still open drawer. He
glanced questioningly at the Captain who shook his head and waved at him to
put it away.
“Scale this down a bit,” General Bradley ordered, tapping the screen with
his pointer.
Sprock held a button down on his console and the Klinger fleet grew
smaller on screen.
“That’s better,” said the General. “Right, pay attention men – its briefing
time. You’ll notice that the Commies have bivouacked in a circle. On the
outside are the large battle cruisers,” he went on, tapping the outer ring with
his pointer. “On the inside, in the next two circles, are the attack ships. Then
they’ve got another circle of supply vessels then another of attack ships. At
the centre is the Mother Ship,” he said, tapping its outline several times.
“We’re gonna take it out with just one shot.”
Curious, the bridge crew waited for an explanation.
 121

“If the Mother Ship goes, the Anti-Matter goes,” he continued, “and if the
Anti-Matter goes you can kiss the whole godamned fleet goodbye. Agreed?”
The Captain nodded but Mr Sprock was a bit doubtful.
“One major flaw in your plan, General,” he said, strolling over, his long pink
dress swishing as he walked. “The Klinger fleet are positioned in such a way
so we can’t get that one shot at the Mother Ship. How do you propose to hit
it?”
General Bradley grinned at them. “Tell me, boys,” he asked, “what would
be the first thing them Commie bastards would do if we screamed in and
attacked?”
The Captain slid his baseball cap to the back of his head as he considered
the question. “Put up their Deflector Shields,” he answered eventually.
“Exactly!” agreed the General. “That’s just what we want them to do!” He
turned back to the screen. “We fire one shot and it goes through a gap in the
outer circle,” he explained, tracing the shot with the pointer. “The shot hits a
ship in the second circle, bounces off its Shield--”
“--goes through a gap in the next circle, hits another ship, bounces off its
Shield and deflects on to the Mother Ship,” the Captain finished for him.
“You’ve got it!” the General congratulated him. “That was pretty smart of
you, Sergeant. A bright boy like you could probably wind up in command of
his own ship one day.”
The Captain smiled indulgently at him. “Thank you, sir,” he said.
“Well, what d’you think of the plan now, big ears?” the General asked
Sprock.
Mr Sprock ignored the insult and concentrated on their tactics. “What’s to
stop the Mother Ship raising its Shield as well?” he asked.
“Nothing,” replied the General. “In fact, they probably will but by then it’ll be
too late. Tell me, boy,” he said, throwing an arm round Sprock’s shoulders,
“how long would it take our shot to travel from us to the Mother Ship?”
“Considering that it has to deflect off two other ships, possibly about four or
five seconds,” replied Sprock.
“And if the Commies decide we’re attacking, how long would it take them to
pass a message from the edge of the fleet to the Mother Ship and for it to
raise its Shield?”
“Longer than four or five seconds, knowing the Klingers,” answered the
Captain.
“Problem solved,” said the General, grinning.
Sprock nodded and glanced at the screen. “Our attack angle will have to be
absolutely exact,” he warned. “Especially since we’re going to get just the one
shot.”
“We’ll also need Warped Speed immediately after we fire,” added the
Captain. “There’s going to one almighty explosion when that Anti-Matter and
the Klinger fleet go up.”
“Get to work then, boys,” the General ordered, strolling back to his chair. “I
want all the details on my desk sharpish.”
The Captain watched Mr Sprock as he walked back to his console. “Nice
dress!” he muttered as he passed.
“Relay me through the ship, boy,” Butch ordered Crackers.
Crackers flicked a switch on his console then pointed to the intercom on the
Captain’s console.
 122

Butch removed his cigar and cleared his throat. “This is General Bradley,”
he announced to the ship. “We’ve sighted a Commie war pack and we’re
gonna blow the mothers outa the sky. There’s gonna be one helluva bang
soon so anybody not directly involved in the action best get their heads down
somewhere. General Bradley out.”
Pleased with his announcement, Butch leaned back in his chair and lit his
cigar. When he had it going to his satisfaction he swivelled round to Sprock.
“Worked out that attack angle yet, soldier?” he asked.
“Yes General. We have to approach to within one space mile and fire at an
angle of thirty seven degrees to hit the ship in the second circle.”
“If we go to maximum speed as soon as we fire how far away will we be
when the Mother Ship blows?”
Mr Sprock had already made the calculation. “One hundred space miles,”
he replied.
“Is that far enough?”
“We’ll probably catch the edge of the blast.”
“Chicken shit!” scoffed the General.
“There is one problem if we approach to within one space mile though,”
said Sprock.
“What’s that?”
“The Klingers might start firing at us instead of raising their Shields.”
“Shit!” cursed the General, punching the arm of his chair in annoyance.
The Captain stood up and smiled at them all. “Fear not, gentlemen,” he
said. “I have already considered that aspect of our plan and I know exactly
how we can get close to the Klinger fleet without them suspecting a thing!”
 123

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Boy have I met some people who can talk! They’d talk
the moons out of Uranus I can tell you! Yap, yap, yap,
yap, yap! By God, some people can go on and on and
on. Never catch me yapping on, no you won’t. Mind you,
I like a chat. A little chat. Just now and then. Reminds
me of the time we were down on the planet Rymos,
bloody freezing it was. Otto was there and we had just
lit a fire when I turned and said to him……”

DENNIS, KLINGER PRISONER

 124

PART ONE

“Hey Lieutenant, we’ve got company,” the Klinger private said, spotting the
ship approaching on his scanner.
Basking in the glories that Draygo was predicting, the Lieutenant was
irritated by the interruption. “Put them on my monitor,” he snapped then turned
back to listen to the General’s speech.
The Private sighed and began tapping in the order. “Why do I have to be on
duty?” he moaned to himself. “Why can’t I be listening to General Draygo’s
speech with the others? Why can’t I--”
The Private’s complaints came to a sudden halt as the Federation ship
Orion appeared on his monitor. Eyes widening, he tugged at the Lieutenant’s
sleeve.
“You’d better look at this, sir,” he said.
“Oh what the hell--” the Lieutenant began then stopped when he saw what
was on his monitor.
Just as he was reaching for the emergency alarm button, a voice came
over the monitor’s small speakers.
“This is Klinger Captain Dennis Thrax to the Klinger battle fleet – respond
with Code IR5.”
The Lieutenant’s hand hovered over the button. “Tap in the Code,” he
ordered.
The Private tapped in the secret Klinger ship-to-ship Code and the Orion
vanished from the monitor and was replaced by a Klinger who was wearing
the blue cloak of a Captain.
“Greetings Lieutenant!” Captain Dennis said, grinning.
The Lieutenant peered at the screen and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“What are you doing on a Federation ship, sir?” he asked.
Dennis’s grin broadened. “A captured Federation ship, you mean!” he
corrected. “We’re taking it back for Space Marshall Ruxell – he wants to study
the weapons system.”
The Lieutenant smiled and removed his hand from the alarm button. The
mention of Space Marshall Ruxell plus the fact that the Captain had used the
secret ship-to-ship Code had allayed his fears.
 125

“Where’s your own ship, sir?” he asked.

“It passed a few minutes ago. Didn’t you see it?”
The Lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. “No sir, we didn’t. We’re all listening
to General Draygo.”
“Oh the General!” said Dennis. “I know him well. Can I have a word with
him?”
Standing well out of camera range, the Captain cringed. “Don’t push your
luck, Dennis,” he muttered. “Don’t push your luck.”
Since he hadn’t yet told Dennis and Otto about his previous agreement with
Ricky to let them go, the Captain had dangled their freedom in front of them if
in return Dennis agreed to contact the Klinger battle fleet and convince them
that they were on a captured Federation ship on their way home.
The bait wasn’t necessary. Dennis had jumped at the opportunity to help
and with the promise of a trip to the seaside sometime in the near future, Otto
was hovering behind him, adding authenticity to the deception.
“No I’m afraid you can’t talk to the General,” the Lieutenant told Dennis.
“He’s making a speech before we go on our mission.”
Dennis affected convincing disappointment. “Oh well, pity about that. I
haven’t seen old Draygo for yonks. Last time I saw him he threatened to put
me down a rubbish chute!” he said, laughing.
“Get on with it, Dennis, get on with it,” the Captain muttered through gritted
teeth.
On the battle cruiser, the Lieutenant was also gritting his. He was missing
Draygo’s speech and wanted to get back to it.
“So you’re off on a mission, are you?” Dennis continued chattily, much to
everyone’s annoyance. “Must be something special with half the fleet there.”
“It is,” replied the Lieutenant. “We’re going to wipe out Earth. Draygo’s got
hold of some Anti-Matter.”
“Has he?” said Dennis, raising his hairy eyebrows. “He wants to be careful
with that. It’s pretty dangerous stuff, you know. One spark and the whole fleet
could go up. Reminds me of the time we were exploring the other side of the
planet Kedatryl. We had some terrible explosions there. Ever been to
Kedatryl?”
Barely concealing his irritation, the Lieutenant shook his head. ‘Trust me to
get stuck with a long winded bore in the middle of Draygo’s speech,’ he
thought.
“It’s a strange place,” Dennis went on. “Got two atmospheres, you know, bit
like a double rainbow. Ever seen a double rainbow? Gorgeous, aren’t they?
All those lovely--”
His chatter was interrupted as Otto thrust a note in front of him.
“Oh excuse me till I read this, Lieutenant,” he said, unfolding it.
‘GET OFF THE FRIGGING SCREEN NOW!!’ said the note.
Dennis smiled at it then glanced up. “Sorry about this, Lieutenant,” he said,
“but I’ll have to go. Something’s cropped up. Well, good luck on the mission.”
“Yes, thanks sir,” the Lieutenant replied, relieved that he was finally getting
away. “See you when we return.”
“Oh hang on a minute,” Dennis said, just as the Lieutenant was about to
switch off his monitor, “you don’t happen to know if there’s a Corporal Brick
along on the mission, do you?” he asked, then glanced to the side as
something caught his eye.
 126

Off camera, General Bradley had one of his laser pistols pointed at him and
his finger was tightening on the trigger.
“Forget it,” Dennis said quickly. “Must dash. Good luck.”
“Thanks sir – bye,” the Lieutenant replied, seizing his opportunity and
flicking off his monitor. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the Private.
“Relay a message through the fleet,” he ordered. “There’s a captured
Federation ship passing. Anybody who contacts them is liable to be talking to
its Klinger Captain for the rest of the night.”
Back on the bridge of the Orion, Dennis turned and beamed at everyone.
“Well how did I do, gents?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” replied the Captain. “You’re a natural.”
“Talker or liar?” grunted General Bradley, holstering his laser pistol.
Dennis grinned and took off Simon’s blue cloak. “Glad to have been able to
help, gents,” he said. “Really enjoyed it. Anytime you need me, just say the
word. Having a bit of a party are we?” he asked, taking in the American
football shirts, baseball caps and Mr Sprock’s frilly pink dress. “Must be a bit
naughty going by that stuff you’re wearing. Bit on the kinky side is it, eh? I’ve
been to some wild parties in my time I can tell you.”
“Tell us some other time,” the Captain said wearily. He nodded to the two
Ensigns who escorted him and Otto from the bridge.
“Right – everybody back to their posts!” General Bradley ordered. “Let’s get
this show underway!”
The depleted bridge crew returned to their positions and everybody
watched the rear observation screen as the Orion drifted away from the
Klinger fleet. The plan was simple enough – to give the impression they were
moving past and then double back and fire.
“How far off the firing position are we?” the Captain asked Mr Sprock.
Mr Sprock glanced at his monitor. “Eighty space miles, Jim,” he replied.
“Let me know when it’s one hundred and fifty,” the Captain said, “then we’ll
double back.”
Sprock nodded and the Captain strolled over to the Weapons Console.
General Bradley grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Get the nukes
warmed up, boy!” he ordered.
“Yes General,” said the Captain. He slid back a metal panel on the console
and punched some buttons underneath. The buttons glowed green then
moments later turned red. “Weapons ready,” he announced.
“One hundred and fifty space miles,” Mr Sprock said calmly.
“Turn us around!” yelled the General. “Let’s kick some Commie ass!”
“Let’s hope the Klingers are too busy listening to Draygo to bother with their
scanners,” muttered the Captain.
“Agreed, Jim,” said Sprock.
Crackers swung the Orion around and as they headed back towards the
Klinger fleet, Mr Sprock continued to watch the figures on his monitor.
“One hundred and twenty space miles,” he announced.
The Captain leaned forward at his console and contacted the Engine
Room. He had warned Jocky earlier that they would require Warped Speed
and now he was ready to implement the order. “Ready for Warped Speed?”
he asked.
“Anytime surr,” came Jocky’s reply. “Just say the word.”
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“I’ll leave the line open,” the Captain told him. “Go to Warped Speed on my
command.”
“Eighty spaces miles,” said Sprock.
The Captain punched some buttons on the Weapons Console. “Lasers
locked and ready for firing,” he announced.
“Fifty space miles,” said Sprock.
The Captain punched some more buttons. “Shields up,” he announced.
“Forty space miles to our firing position,” said Sprock. “How is our approach
angle?” he asked.
“Locked on a thirty seven degree approach,” replied Crackers. “Ready for
firing.”
General Bradley grinned and strapped himself into his seat. “Hang on
boys!” he yelled happily. “Let’s nuke them sons of bitches!!”

PART TWO

On board the Klinger battle cruiser the Private who had earlier spotted the
Orion joined in the cheering and whistling at something General Draygo had
just said.
At first he had watched his scanner closely but as the small dot which
represented the Orion began heading away from the fleet he had lost interest
and his attention had drifted back to the observation screen and Draygo.
He had leapt to his feet to join in some applause with the others and now
that it was dying down he turned and took his seat again. Still grinning he
glanced casually at his scanner and the grin died on his ugly face.
He reached out and grabbed the Lieutenant’s sleeve again, his eyes on the
small dot which had turned back and was rapidly approaching the fleet. Not
wanting to be bothered a second time, the Lieutenant shook him off.
“Sir!” the Private persisted, grabbing his sleeve again and shaking it.
“What the hell is it now!?” the Lieutenant snapped.
The Private pointed a thick finger at his scanner.
The Lieutenant’s hairy eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Jesus!” he
exclaimed. “They’re attacking!” He hit the alarm button then turned and
started shoving his way through the crowd of warriors watching Draygo.
“Captain!” he yelled. “Enemy ship on the scanner! We’re being attacked!”
“Raise Shields,” the Captain ordered calmly then turned to his open ship-to-
ship line. “Fleet under attack. Raise Shields,” he relayed.
“Fire!” announced Mr Sprock on the Orion.
“Fire!” echoed General Bradley. “Nuke the bastards!!”
The Captain hit the red buttons on his Console then turned to his open line
to the Engine Room. “Warped Speed!” he ordered Jocky.
Crackers veered the Orion away and seconds later they hit Warped Speed
as their laser shot was deflected off the Shield of the Klinger ship in the
second circle.
“Fleet under attack! Raise Shields!” the voice ordered over the ship-to-ship
line on the Mother Ship but enthralled by General Draygo’s speech, nobody
heard it,
Except Kharg.
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His oval yellow eyes flicked to a nearby scanner and he saw the dot racing
away from the fleet. He turned to warn Draygo as the Orion’s laser shot
deflected off the Shields of the ship in the fourth inner circle.
“So let’s get this mission under way!” Draygo announced, finishing his
speech. “And we’ll show the Universe what we Klingers are made of!”
The deflected laser shot hit the Mother Ship. It exploded in a huge billowing
red and yellow ball. A millisecond later the Anti-Matter exploded as well.
“Son of a bitch!” muttered General Bradley, watching on the rear
observation screen. He un-strapped himself and jumped up and down
excitedly. “Fry you Commie Mothers! Fry!” he yelled.
The force of the exploding Mother Ship hurled the Anti-Matter outwards and
seconds later the innermost circles disintegrated in bright orange flame.
The Captain glanced over at Mr Sprock who raised an approving eyebrow.
The circle of gigantic supply ships was next to go, their massive fuel holds
igniting and spraying burning fountains across space into the next two rings of
attack ships.
The attack ships tried to flee but in their panic to get away several of them
collided with each other or with some of the ponderous battle cruisers which
were also intent on escape.
“Look at then Commies burn!” General Bradley yelled, dancing around.
The Orion’s rear observation screen now showed a mass of billowing,
shooting flames as ship after ship exploded fiercely. The darkness of space
was lit up as the entire Klinger fleet erupted in thundering explosions.
“Distance?” the Captain asked.
“Seventy space miles,” Sprock replied. “We should feel it shortly.”
Moments later the outer wave of the massive explosion broke over the
Orion. Although their Shields deflected most of it they were badly buffeted and
thrown off course.
The Captain, Mr Sprock and Mr Crackers were jolted around in their seats
but that was the worst they suffered because they had wisely remained
strapped in. General Bradley however was dancing up and down in front of
the rear observation screen when the ship started getting thrown around.
Some continuous rocking knocked him off balance and he fell, striking his
head on the edge of a console. When the buffeting stopped the others quickly
un-strapped themselves and rushed over to him.
Sprock was first there and he knelt down and checked his breathing and
pulse. “He’s knocked himself out, Captain,” he said.
The Captain strolled back over to his command chair and contacted the
Sick Bay. “To the bridge immediately, Doctor Malloy,” he requested, a smile
on his face. “General Bradley has just resigned his commission!”
 129

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Oh how I have missed the bridge doors on the Orion

during our latest adventure! That lovely hissing sound
as they swish open and that delightful little click when
they close! How peaceful, how hypnotic, how satisfying,
how did the engineers do it? If only the entire Universe
operated so smoothly and peacefully.”

CAPTAIN KORK
 130

PART ONE

CAPTAIN’S LOG : STARDATE 505.16

With the destruction of the Klinger fleet and the Anti-Matter, Kharg’s and
Draygo’s plans to destroy Earth and then carve up the free Universe between
them were prevented. For playing their part in preserving life as we know it I
thought the least I could do for the Orion’s crew was to give them a one week
break before we returned to Earth.
Ricky said he knew somewhere on the way home that had great beaches, a
marvellous climate and a terrific night life. Unfortunately it happened to be on
the planet Clumzy, scene of our earlier misadventures but this was a quiet
part of the planet, well away from the main towns so the consensus of opinion
was to land.

PART TWO

CAPTAIN KORK’S PRIVATE DIARY

When we reached Clumzy I decided to remain on board the Orion myself.
Mr Sprock insisted that I wore a Transporter Bracelet at all times to be
absolutely safe and I decided to humour him and wear one. I spent my time
reflecting on all that had happened, writing up the official Log, contacting
Federation Command to give them a detailed account of what had occurred
and attending to a few other matters.

I did visit the crew now and then to see how they were spending their time.
As usual, they were all enjoying themselves in their individual ways. Mr
Bradley, now completely recovered and with no memory of his temporary
change of character spent his time relaxing on the beach, drinking and
amazing some of the locals with his anecdotes. However he did have one
unwanted admirer….
On the beach : Butch was lying on the sand, a tall, cool drink in his hand.
Several of the local men were sitting around listening to him.
 131

“Yeah, them aliens sure talked after we tortured them, by Christ they did,”
said Butch. “Of course torture was an art form in those days, not like now
when they just bang in the drugs and sit back and listen to them sing.”
He broke off to take a pull at his drink and spotted Simon, the Orion’s
Beautician, staring at him from a short distance away.
“Jeeze! If I catch that faggot staring at me just one more time…” he said
loudly, leaving the sentence unfinished. “Turns your stomach the way he
looks at you.”
Simon sighed wistfully and gazed out to sea. ‘Oh if only you could be
General Bradley again!’ he thought, his mind replaying the wonderful
moments when he’d sat on Butch’s knee.
His eyes began to glaze over and a smile crept on to his face. What would
it have been like if Butch had come down to the cabin when he was waiting for
him in that big double bed?

Unfortunately for Mr Sprock his ears hadn’t changed again before we

reached Clumzy. They were still six inches long and stuck out at right angles
from his head. This time though he found a good use for them….
At the beach : Mr Sprock and a few others were in the sea.
“Hey, let’s take some money off that weirdo with the big ears,” one local
said to another.
“Yeah,” agreed his friend. “Let’s race him out to the island.”
They shouted to Sprock and challenged him to a race out to a small island
about a hundred yards away. Sprock accepted the challenge.
“How about making it more interesting,” the first man said, winking to his
friend. “We’ll race you for a thousand UniCredits.”
“Five thousand,” Sprock replied casually.
The locals grinned at each other.
“You’re on!” they replied.
“Go!” said Sprock and watched as they quickly swam away from him. He
shook his head and gave them a good start. When they were twenty yards
away he launched himself after them, using his long flat ears to propel himself
through the water. He soon caught and overtook the two swimmers, easily
reaching the island before them.
“What kept you gentlemen?” he enquired when they arrived, panting. He
nodded back to the beach. “I’ll give you a fifty yard start,” he said. “Care to
make it double or quits?”

Ricky, my younger brother, was off on his own, looking up some old friends
he had on the planet….
At the disco : Ricky was sitting in a dimly lit corner. He had his arm round a
girl and was smoking a long fat cigarette.
“Yeah, this is pretty good stuff,” he drawled, exhaling. “I’ll take some more.”
“Sure,” said the youth sitting next to him. “Got anything to trade for it?”
“Got something really special,” Ricky replied, grinning. He opened his
jacket and reached under his shirt. “This,” he drawled, bringing out the
Pendant.

Lieutenant Youhoor, being a gregarious extroverted character, was

spending her holiday getting to know the people of Clumzy. I’m sure she’ll
 132

make a lot of friends as her appetite for meeting new people seems
insatiable….
In a hotel room near the beach : A group of young men were sitting around,
drinking and chatting. The bedroom door opened and a man came out. He
looked pretty tired and dishevelled but had a contented grin on his face.
“Next!” Youhoor yelled lustily from the bedroom.

Mr Zulu, our Navigator, said he wanted to stock up on his collection of

bones and he disappeared for a couple of days, scouring the planet, looking
for them….
Outdoors at night : Zulu was in a graveyard, prying open a coffin. Thinking
he heard a noise he glanced round suspiciously then dived behind a high pile
of earth for cover.
After a few moments he re-appeared, held a lamp up high and peered into
the darkness. Satisfied that there was nothing moving in the graveyard except
himself, he came out from behind his cover and returned to the coffin.
When he managed to get the lid off, his eyes widened and his white teeth
gleamed in the lamplight as he grinned. “Great!” he muttered, rubbing his
hands together. “Lotsa bones!”

Dennis and Otto, the two Klingers we captured, liked the planet and have
decided to stay on when we leave. Otto loves the beaches and has finally got
the chance to use his bucket and spade.
But Dennis! Dennis is the only person I’ve ever come across who actually
had to be tortured to stop him giving away secrets. Mr Bradley was happy to
provide the treatment….
On the beach : Otto was wearing a long, striped bathing outfit and a hat
with ‘KISS ME QUICK’ written on it. He was grunting happily to himself and
building sandcastles.
Sitting nearby, Dennis was gazing out to sea. He had a black eye and a
sticking plaster over the bridge of his nose.
“They’ll never stop me talking!” he muttered, defiantly punching the sand.
“Never!”

PART THREE

Captain Kork sighed and shook his head at the freakish natures of his crew
as he closed his Diary. Strange though they were he wouldn’t change them
and tomorrow they would all be returning from their break and the Orion would
set course for Earth.
He settled himself comfortably in his chair, poured himself a small drink and
swung his feet up on to his console. As he usually did at the end of each
voyage, he began reviewing the entire mission from start to finish, mainly to
take note of what mistakes they had made so they wouldn’t be repeated in
future.
He had just reached the part where he and Mr Sprock were trapped on the
two narrow pillars in Kharg’s room on Dulcodaz when the bridge door swished
open behind him. The Captain frowned – he was supposed to be on the ship
by himself.
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“Don’t you just love the way the bridge doors swish open?” a familiar
rasping voice mockingly asked.
The Captain spun round quickly in his chair. “Kharg!” he muttered, slowly
getting to his feet.
Kharg’s yellow eyes glittered and his pointed teeth appeared as he smiled.
He drifted into the bridge and set down one of the golden caskets.
“But you’re dead!” said the Captain. “You and Draygo were killed when we
destroyed the Klinger battle fleet.”
Kharg’s harsh laughter echoed round the empty bridge. “You fool!” he
rasped. “Do you think a mere Earthling could destroy me!?”
“Then how did you escape?”
“I saw the Orion attacking on a scanner on the Mother Ship,” rasped Kharg.
”Before it exploded I changed myself into pure energy and beamed aboard
here.”
“But that’s impossible,” said the Captain.
“For you – yes! For me – no!” hissed Kharg. “You forget that I am a superior
being. I can adopt any form I want.”
He shimmered and changed into a long green snake and began undulating
across the floor. Involuntarily, the Captain stepped back. Kharg’s harsh
laughter rang out again and the snake shimmered and changed into a
snarling black jaguar.
It bared its fangs at the Captain and growled menacingly then leapt at him.
He raised his arms to protect himself but in mid-leap the jaguar shimmered
and changed back into Kharg.
“Child’s play,” he rasped mockingly.
Child’s play or not the demonstration convinced the Captain. “So you
transferred yourself aboard the Orion,” he acknowledged. “Why?”
“Because I now need it to carry out my original plan,” rasped Kharg. “I still
intend to destroy Earth.”
“With the Orion?” the Captain asked, puzzled.
“The Orion and this!” rasped Kharg. He opened the gold casket revealing
one of the giant phials of jet black liquid.
“Anti-Matter!” said the Captain, staring at it.
“Enough to destroy your interfering little planet. And you will take me. In the
Orion.”
“Never!” declared the Captain stubbornly.
Kharg sighed impatiently, slowly brought up his left hand and pointed a long
bony finger at him.
The Captain’s eyes snapped shut and all of a sudden he was falling. The
Orion was gone and he was falling through cold empty space to the planet
below. He plunged through some fluffy white clouds, scattering them and he
could see lights twinkling in the town beneath him.
He flailed at the air and screamed but the rushing wind tore the sound
away. The buildings below were looming closer and he could see people
moving about in the streets. He felt the panic rising in his gut and flailed at the
air again but it didn’t slow him any.
He flashed past a tall building narrowly missing the edge of the roof and as
he glanced down, the ground seemed to be rushing up to meet him. He
screamed again and this time he heard it echoing off the walls of the buildings
around him.
 134

One second before he smashed into the ground his eyes snapped open
and he was standing on the bridge of the Orion. Still screaming.
Kharg’s harsh laughter echoed round the bridge. “You are so easily
dominated,” he rasped. “Now take your seat and get the ship moving, unless
you require another demonstration.”
Still shaking from his experience, the Captain walked over to the
Helmsman’s seat and sat down then took a few moments to collect himself.
When he’d recovered he strapped himself in then concentrated on the
instrument panel in front of him
He began tapping in instructions and slowly the Orion swung round and
then gathered speed and began heading up out of Clumzy’s atmosphere.
“Plot in a course for Earth,” rasped Kharg, “and remember – I’ll be watching
your every move.”

PART FOUR

“Fifteen minutes until we re-enter Earth’s atmosphere,” Captain Kork

announced.
Kharg drifted over. “Sit in your own chair,” he rasped. “Everything must look
normal when you contact Federation Control. Do it now.”
The Captain walked over to his own seat, slipped into it and punched a few
buttons on a panel in the arm. The forward observation screen changed from
a view of Earth to one of a young woman who was wearing a Federation
Space Control Lieutenant’s uniform.
She smiled warmly. “Welcome home, Orion,” she said.
The Captain returned her smile. “This is Captain James T. Kork on the
Federation ship Orion,” he said. “We shall be approaching Earth’s atmosphere
in ten minutes. Do we have re-entry and docking permission?”
The young Lieutenant checked her monitor. “Re-entry permission
approved,” she replied. “Re-enter along Corridor Two Zero Nine and then
proceed to Docking Bay Seven on arrival.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” said the Captain. “Orion out.”
As he was punching the buttons to return the observation screen to normal
view, Kharg’s harsh laughter rang round the bridge.
“A Federation ship returning from a mission!” he rasped. “Why should
anyone be suspicious?” He drifted over beside the Captain. “Once we have
re-entered Earth’s atmosphere you shall proceed as directed,” he instructed.
“When we reach the Docking Bay I shall jettison this,” he rasped, holding up
the giant phial of Anti-Matter. “You will have an excellent view of your planet
being destroyed.”
Without warning the forward observation screen view of Earth changed and
was replaced by a familiar ugly figure. He had a high forehead, straight black
hair that fell in a centre parting to his shoulders and was wearing a red and
black leather uniform.
This time it was Kharg’s turn to be surprised. “Draygo!” he hissed, staring at
the screen. “But you are dead!”
 135

Draygo threw back his head and roared with laughter. “We are both dead,
Kharg!” he said. “We all died when the Mother Ship and the Klinger Fleet were
destroyed.”
“Impossible!” hissed Kharg.
Draygo shook his head. “You are dead, Kharg,” he told him. “Come to the
grave where you belong. The dead are waiting for you, Kharg. Come to the
grave,” he said, beckoning.
“Come Kharg, come to the grave!” a voice from the other side of the bridge
repeated.
Kharg turned. Draygo was standing near the bridge door, beckoning.
“Come to the grave, Kharg,” he said. “We are waiting for you. Return to the
grave with me.”
The Draygo on the observation screen roared with laughter again and as
Kharg was turning back to him the Captain shot out of his chair and grabbed
the giant phial from his hands.
“Time for us both to die!” he yelled, raising it above his head.
Kharg was quickly raising his hand to control him again when the giant
phial was hurled at his feet. The phial containing the Anti-Matter shattered and
the Orion erupted in a thundering, blinding explosion.

PART FIVE

A few seconds later the Captain shimmered and materialised. Quickly he

examined himself but was puzzled when he found no sign of injury.
“No, you’re not dead yet, Jim!” a familiar voice said to him.
The Captain glanced up. “Sprock!” he exclaimed then looked round.
The Orion’s bridge crew plus Ricky, Dennis and Otto and Silas the Sorcerer
were standing around the bridge of an unfamiliar ship, smiling at him.
“What happened?” he asked.
Mr Sprock’s ears had returned to a normal shape. “The Clumzies
generously lent us this ship,” he explained. “It’s a bit primitive but we didn’t
have much choice under the circumstances.”
“The Clumzies?”
“Of course. I became suspicious when I couldn’t contact you with my
Transceiver,” Sprock told him. “A visit to Clumzy Space Control revealed that
the Orion had left. There could only be one logical explanation for that, no
matter how difficult it was to believe – Kharg.”
“So you followed us back to Earth?”
“Exactly Jim. I suspected Kharg might still have some Anti-Matter so I
arranged for a diversion. Simon disguised Dennis as Draygo when we were
travelling. He performed well, I think you’ll agree?”
“Very well,” admitted the Captain. “It most certainly fooled me.”
“No problem, squire,” said Dennis/Draygo, grinning all over his ugly face.
“You know me – glad to be able to help.”
The Captain smiled at Dennis. “I can understand how you got him on the
observation screen,” he said, “but how did you manage to beam him aboard
the Orion at the same time and stand behind Kharg?”
Sprock arched an eyebrow and held out a hand to Silas the Sorcerer. “We
too have a little magical power, Jim,” he replied.
 136

Silas removed his peaked cap and bowed. “One of my spells actually
worked for a change!” he said. “To tell you the truth,” he went on, “I was glad
to get away for a break. That new woman of mine can be very demanding!”
The Captain smiled at him, remembering the scene when he and Butch had
crept into his bedroom.
“And you’ve got me to thank for the split second timing in beaming you
back,” Ricky drawled.
“It was timed rather fine,” the Captain admitted. “How did you manage it?”
Ricky grinned and held up a tiny metal object. “Eavesdropping with one of
these,” he replied.
“What the hell is it?” asked the Captain.
“A miniature receiver,” Ricky told him. “I hid one of them down a couch on
the bridge of the Orion at the start of the mission so I could hear what you
cats were up to when I was in my cabin,” he explained. “All I had to do was
tune in to the frequency and wait till you were into the kamikaze mode then I
gave old Sprocky the nod to beam you across.”
“Well old Sprocky and you couldn’t have left it any later,” the Captain said,
smiling at his First Officer. “Another half second and I’d have gone the same
way as Kharg.”
“It was wise of me to insist you wore the Transporter Bracelet, Jim,” said
Sprock.
“I would say its one of the most totally logical things you’ve ever done,”
chimed in Butch Bradley and everyone on the bridge laughed.
The Captain however quickly returned to a more pensive mode. “Do you
think we finally got rid of Kharg?” he asked Sprock.
Sprock arched both eyebrows. “With Kharg – who knows?” he remarked.
“He seemed capable of escaping from almost any situation. Still, we did
destroy the last of the Anti-Matter.”
“And one of the Federation’s very expensive ships,” the Captain added
wryly. “I suppose I’d better contact them and explain what happened.”
He strolled over to the ship’s Communications Console but halted when he
caught sight of the forward observation screen. It was showing a view of the
blue-green ball that was planet Earth revolving slowly and peacefully against
the black backdrop of space.
He stared at it for a few moments then sighed wistfully and turned to the
others. “Makes you feel kind of warm inside knowing we saved Earth, doesn’t
it?” he said.
The others nodded and stared at the screen.
“But how did we do it?” the Captain went on. “How did a bunch of frail
humans manage to defeat someone as powerful as Kharg? Makes you
wonder if there wasn’t some Force guiding us, helping us, working through us.
Yes, this mission just confirms my belief that there is a Good Force in the
Universe as well as an Evil Force. We’ve defeated the Evil Force for now but
who knows when it’s going to strike again. But when it does, we’ll be ready,
we’ll be--”
“Hey, there isn’t time for any of that nonsense now,” Ricky cut in, halting his
brother’s monologue.
“Why not?” he asked.
Ricky grinned at him. “Because the novel’s finished,” he drawled.
 137

The Captain glanced down at the empty page beneath him. “Damn!” he
muttered in surprise. “So it is!”