The two bounty hunters stared at the group of five contorted Impalers standing before them. Three of them carried long crooked sticks, one of them carried a book of notes, and, most importantly, one of them was the Impaler leader, Tiyr’d.

Panman raised his fusion pistol and pointed it at the face of Tiyr’d. “Explain yourself!” he yelled.

The three Impaler security guards raised their sticks in front of their leader to protect him. The ends of the sticks started to glow red.

“Lower your weapon.” Tiyr’d said with apparent calm.

“Get your men to lower theirs!” Panman said. “Or feel the full wrath of on-the-spot Amino justice!”

“Ah…” the leader said with realisation. “So you’re not from the Muscle-Russells after all?”

“Of course not, you ugly malformation!” Panman said angrily. “We’re top class bounty hunters from the Palace of Amino, and you and your people have committed a capital crime against the bounty hunter organisation! A crime that will see you suffer torment beyond imagination!”

Tiyr’d’s disfigured face developed a serious expression. “I will ask my men to lower their sticks if you will put away your gun. We know that we cannot win a fight with you.”

Panman nodded. “Too right you can’t!”

The leader continued. “Once you put away your weapon I will explain why we have done what we have done.”

Panman was about to incinerate everyone’s guts when Peter the Ace intervened. “Agreed.” he said. “On one condition, though.”

“And what would that be?”

“That you take us to the real Ross Mental.”

Tiyr’d looked across to his companion carrying the book. “Is your captive in a suitable condition to be seen?”

“He is still unconscious.” the leader’s companion replied. “But he can be seen.”

Tiyr’d addressed the bounty hunters. “My senior genetic researcher, Injr’d, says that will be fine.”

“It’s OK, Panman,” Peter the Ace said. “Lower your pistol.”

Panman reluctantly did as his colleague requested. The Impaler guards lowered their sticks.

“Right,” Peter the Ace said. “Take us too our friend.”

The Impaler leader and the genetic researcher lead the way. The two bounty hunters followed. The three guards followed close behind.

Peter the Ace noticed that Panman was not happy with the way things were going. “Don’t worry.” he whispered. “We are in control of the situation. We could take out all of them with our bare hands if necessary. And that would be much more fun, don’t you think?”

Panman thought for a moment, and then smiled. “Yeah, you’re right! That would be more fun - and much cooler, too!”

The bounty hunters were lead into the dome, which was now illuminated by bright lights that ringed the underside of the gallery above.

“There is your friend.” Tiyr’d said, pointing at the bench at the centre.

Injr’d walked over to the bench and removed the sheet covering the body. It was indeed Ross Mental. He was completely unconscious, and his arms, legs, neck, and waist were tightly strapped to the surface of the bench.

Panman’s trigger finger was becoming itchy. “He’d better be in good health!”

“He is.” Tiyr’d said. “The Almighty Impaler does not allow us to permanently harm the innocent.”

Peter the Ace spoke. “A few minutes ago Panman asked you to explain yourself. My colleague, like myself, has limited patience. Perhaps you had better answer his question before he files off your nose.”

The leader of the Impaler began his explanation. “For almost a hundred years,” he said solemnly, “the Impaler have been at war with the Slim-Jims, ever since they first appeared within the realms of our domain. Although lengthy, up until a year ago the war had consisted only of sporadic skirmishes. The Slim-Jims would occasionally attack through the orifices of this cavern, attempting to ruin our research, steal our food supplies, and impregnate our females.

“We were more than a match for them though; our shock-sticks were far superior to their bludgeons and machetes, and our tactical abilities far outweighed their ape-like protruding-forehead-style charge-at-full-speed predictable assault patterns. Our individual strength, even after experiencing the leap of faith ceremony, was greater. The weak and bony nature of the Slim-Jims, and their apparent unwillingness to partake in drug enhanced bodybuilding, ensured that they always remained fragile and easily breakable.”

Panman shouted. “Get to the point!”

Tiyr’d got closer to the point. “Their last raid was different. Instead of attacking in small uncoordinated groups, they attacked en mass. There were over a hundred of them. They destroyed half of our labs, kidnapped thirty of our sexiest females, and bred with ten others. Those shamed females will give birth to tiny Slim-Jim-Impaler mutants in less than a month.”

“There is still no point!” Panman yelled.

“Here it is.” The Impaler leader said. “We desperately needed to find a way to repel their next attack otherwise our community would be wiped from existence. Three months ago we embarked upon our most ambitious research project ever, the aim of which was to capture a strong muscular being, violent and fearless, and make dozens of copies. We would then condition the minds of those copies to hate our enemy.

“Time was getting and short, and up until yesterday we hadn’t found any muscular beings at all. Then we found your friend, Ross Mental. We had monitored the activities of bounty hunters for many years but never expected one to crash a spaceship near to our home. The opportunity was too good to miss. With an army of cloned bounty hunters on our side we couldn’t fail to defeat the Slim Jims.”

Silence reigned for several seconds.

“Interesting.” Peter the Ace commented, finally. “But why didn’t you just call the Palace of Amino for help? I assume you have invented some kind of ultra-space radio receiver. You did say that you monitored our transmissions?”

“We do indeed have a receiver of the type you mention, but we couldn’t for the life of us get it to transmit.”

Panman was looking more relaxed. “If your story is true then I guess your actions could qualify as acts of desperation. What you say could, of course, be a load of bullshit. If that’s the case then you’re all doomed to hard labour in the sewer systems of the Palace of Amino’s under-class accomodation units.”

“I am telling the truth.” Tiyr’d said seriously. “And in less than an hour you will have proof.”

“What do you mean?”

“A Slim-Jim attack force is approaching. Please let me place a Ross Mental clone at each crack and orifice in this cavern. They will mash and splinter the Slim-Jims as they try to enter. That will be your proof.”

Panman turned to Peter the Ace. “Should we let them?”

Peter the Ace thought for a moment. “Yes. We’ve nothing to loose.”

“OK,” Panman said sternly. “But if you trick us or deceive us in any way, instant Amino justice will be distributed generously!”

“That is fair.” the Impaler leader said. “And when proof is seen, will you use your superior might and reasoning abilities to aid us in our fight? Of course, if you have to follow a prime directive that prohibits interference in the affairs of lesser cultures, then you must abide by it.”

“We’re first class bounty hunters of vast wisdom and extraordinary dexterity!” Peter the Ace said sharply. “We are above the law and instinctively ignore all directives all of the time.”

Panman nodded vigorously. “Yeah, we do that!”

“Good.” Tiy’rd said. “We must prepare for the attack.”

“Before you do,” Peter the Ace said, “you must free the real Ross Mental.”

Tiy’rd looked at the unconscious bounty hunter strapped to the bench. “He is dangerous. His rage will destroy us all when he recovers.”

A harsh look of power filled the face of Peter the Ace. “It is a serious offence to detain a bounty hunter. Free him now, or the rest of your mangled lower jaw will be crushed to a pulp.”

Tiy’rd paused for a moment and contemplated that punishment. He turned to Injr’d, his senior genetic researcher. “Free Ross Mental.”

The researcher did as he was told.

Tiyr’d looked at Peter the Ace and Panman. “I have done what you have asked. Will you protect us from his wrath when he awakes?”

“We will try to calm him.” Peter the Ace said. “But we can’t promise anything.”

Tiyr’d did not seem convinced. “OK, I suppose.”

“It’ll have to be.” Panman said.

“Well.” Tiy’rd said. “Time moves on. We must prepare for the attack. The clones must be taken to their positions.”

The bounty hunters and the Impalers left the domed lab.