“Let me scorch his fuckin’ lips off!” Ross Mental shouted, his face twisted with rage. He pushed himself up, propping himself against a low stone wall to the side of the syrup pool.

“A fascinating idea.” Peter the Ace agreed. “But I’d rather keep our lumpy friend here in a useful condition.”

Ross Mental objected. “Useful? That fat fucker’s about as useful as a fuck in a fuckin’ fuck machine!”

Peter the Ace nodded. “Maybe. But I’d still like to keep him in one piece for now.”

The lump-being, Pys Phecees, chuckled childishly, his flabby folds of leathery skin heaving steadily. “You cannot stop the emitter. It will fire no matter how much havoc and destruction you cause to this complex.” The lump-being leaned back into his syrup pool and spouted a fountain of saliva into the air. He laughed, his tongue slapping over his wide lips. “You have failed in a most breathtaking and bizarre fashion! You are all incompetent! Totally and utterly…”

A beam of white energy connected with the lump-being’s right buttock. A cloud of black vaporised flesh rose into the air. Pys Phecees yelled like an adolescent fumphy, jumping up out of the syrup. He landed on his side, splashing gunk in all directions.

“Fuckin’ yes!” Ross Mental yelled joyously. He fell sideways, slamming into the floor, and scraping the cauterised stump of his left leg. “Fuck!”

Peter the Ace looked over to the other side of the syrup pool. Jodi Funk Junky was standing there, her rifle still aimed squarely at the lump-being’s butt. “Well done, my dear.” Peter the Ace said. “That was a particularly well-aimed shot.”

Jodi Funk Junky sighed, relieved that she’d finally done something right. “Thank you.” She said, smiling.

“You might want to lower the power setting a touch, though. Another shot like that and our sack-like friend will have no backside left to rest himself on.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” The lesser bounty hunter lowered her rifle’s power setting.

Pys Phecees yelled, letting loose a one hundred decibel fart. “You’ll suffer, bitch!”

Peter the Ace looked sternly at the lump-being. “Stay silent. One more sound out of you and I’ll allow my colleague, Ross Mental, to do what he does best. OK?”

Ross Mental laughed. “Yeah, just say one more word, you fuckin’ bulbous fuck!”

Pys Phecees glared with malevolence at the foul-mouthed bounty hunter, but said nothing more.

A deep roar reverberated around the lump-being’s chamber, and then reduced to a low hum. A large grey mushroom appeared at the shattered dome window. It was the Hooded Whore. With a high-pitched hiss, a hatch opened up on the ship’s topside. A white-suited figure emerged and clambered swiftly across the ship’s smooth hull. Leaping forwards, the figure somersaulted twice, landing with a thud next to Peter the Ace. With a whirr, the figure’s helmet folded away over his head.

“Marvellous entrance.” Peter the Ace said. “Nicely done!”

Panman beamed. “I aim to please!” He looked down to the syrup pool. “I see that the ugly fat dude’s still with us.”

“Indeed he is. I’m hoping to take him back to the palace. He’ll be a great trophy prisoner.”

Panman nodded. “Yeah! He’ll look great in a cell next to the likes of Ken Kasino.”

“He will. Of course, the Palace of Amino must successfully repel the lump-being’s attack first.”

“What are you talking about?” Panman asked, confused. “I told you I destroyed the control room!”

“You did, and in an exceedingly gratifying manner, too.” Peter the Ace confirmed. He pointed at the lump-being’s control console. “But according to the information displayed here, a microsecond before the control room was destroyed; the program controlling the emitter’s firing cycle was transferred deep into the emitter’s core and distributed across its multiprocessor system. There are now more than a million copies of the program installed and running in locations spread throughout planet’s interior.”

Panman was annoyed. “Then let’s shut them all down! Just send a cascaded sequence of commands to…”

Peter the Ace shook his head. “Already tried that. Unfortunately, a rather impressive layer of devious encryption algorithms protects each copy of the program. It would take many weeks, even for us, to break through and stop the execution of each one. And to make matters worse, each copy of the program has its own independent power supply and runs with complete autonomy. We cannot stop the emitter firing without destroying most of this planet. I’m afraid it will definitely fire.”

Ross Mental voiced his loud opinion once again. “Destroy the fuckin’ planet!”

Panman had to agree. “Ross Mental has a point.”

“He does indeed, “Peter the Ace said, “but unfortunately it cannot be justified by the updated excessive force guidelines recently published by the Supreme Beings. The society of this under-developed world must be preserved.”

Panman knew he had no grounds on which to disagree with his colleague. “Hmm… I guess we’ll just have to hope that the palace has organised a strategy to defend against the beam.”

“We will. At least we’ve managed to reduce the beam’s output by seventy percent, in itself a phenomenal achievement.”

Panman smiled, his annoyance gone for the time being. “It is! We’re so cool!”

Peter the Ace’s communicator crackled to life. “Sebastian Blood here. There’s something you should know.”

The first-class bounty hunter was intrigued. “And what would that be, Mister Blood?”

“My sensors indicate that the floor of the emitter chamber is teaming with over six-thousand humanoids – all wearing unfashionable red overalls. They’re all heading for the chamber exit right beneath us. I think they’re going to come up and attack.”

Peter the Ace took a few steps towards the shattered round window. He leaned on the hull of the Hooded Whore and looked down. Sebastian Blood was right. Hundreds of metres below a massive crowd of recruits were indeed filing in an extraordinarily ordered manner through a doorway directly below. “I wondered where they’d all got to.”

The lump-being, Pys Phecees, shouted with delight. “Ha! My devoted followers are coming to protect me!” His tongue slapped like a wet flag. His eyes blinked energetically. “Even bounty hunter’s like yourselves cannot defend against such numbers!”

Panman scowled at the lump-being, and then joined Peter the Ace at the window. “I could throw down a few flesh strippers. That should deter them!”

Peter the Ace saw the profound wisdom in his Panman’s words. “Good idea. Aim about ten metres from the doorway. That should allow for maximum…”

A deafening roar shook the room. Syrup splattered in all directions.

Ross Mental yelled. “Fuckin’ hell! The fat fucker’s flying!”

Peter the Ace turned, and then witnessed what was one of the most remarkable and disgusting sights he had ever seen. The lump-being was flying rapidly towards the far side of the chamber, powered, apparently, by a continuous and focussed high-pressure fart.

Panman was astonished. “Wow! I could never have foreseen that!”

Jodi Funk Junky opened fire, but her aim was not good. Several shots skimmed the hide of Pys Phecees, burning long gashes into his thick skin, but it was not enough to bring him down. A section of the wall opened up. A second later, the lump-being, still propelled by the most incredible rectal out gassing ever seen, disappeared through the opening. The wall closed behind him.

Ross Mental grimaced. “Fuck! It stinks in here!”

Peter the Ace looked at Jodi Funk Junky. “What’s through there?”

“His saucer ship.”

A deep hum grew in volume, and then began to rise in pitch. There was an incredible crunch of rock, and then the saucer ship sped passed the window. It climbed steeply. Within seconds the saucer ship disappeared from view through the huge hole in the emitter chamber’s ceiling.

Peter the Ace activated his communicator. “Drug Abuser, this is Peter the Ace.”

“We read you!” Suzanne Nag-Witch said. “What’s happening? We’ve been waiting for hours to…”

“There’s a saucer-shaped ship leaving the mountain. Can you see it?”

“Yes. Our sensors are tracking it. It’s so fast!”

“Pursue it. Attempt to disable it, but do not destroy it. Understood?”

“Understood. We’re on it!”

Peter the Ace redirected his communicator. “Blenheim.”

The Blenheim answered. “PLEASE STATE YOUR REQUEST.”

“Come to the hole above the emitter chamber. Hover three hundred metres directly above and wait for our arrival.”

“REQUEST RECEIVED. ESTIMATED TIME OF ARRIVAL ABOVE THE HOLE: TWO MINUTES AND SIXTEEN SECONDS.”

Peter the Ace deactivated his communicator. “Right, everyone. Get on top of the Hooded Whore.”

Ross Mental punched the air. “Fuck yes! About time we left this fuckin’ place!” He fell sideways, landing heavily onto the stump of his right ankle. He howled like a timber wolf.

Peter the Ace looked at Jodi Funk Junky. “Pick up Ross Mental, and the old man, too. Get them onto the ship.”

The lesser bounty hunter nodded. Slinging her rifle over her shoulder, she placed Ross Mental and the old man back to back, and then grabbed the back of both their collars with her left hand. Lifting them off the floor, she strode across the syrup pool and towards the Hooded Whore. When she reached the ship, she swung her arm up. Ross Mental and the old man arced through the air and landed with a clang onto the topside of the ship. She clambered up after them.

With an impressive leap, Panman landed next to her on the hull. Peter the Ace followed, landing on all fours with a deep reverberating thud. Peter the Ace spoke. “Mister Blood, take us out of this chamber.”

“Hold on tight!”

Sebastian Blood’s ship rumbled to life, and then shot up, pushing its topside passengers down hard onto the hull.

Less than half a minute later, the Hooded Whore left the relative warmth of the emitter chamber, and sped out into one of the thickest snowstorms ever seen.