The Blenheim rose swiftly through the dark dense cloud layers of Gun-Loc. Of course, with its engine section still damaged beyond reasonable repair, it could not do this alone.

Docked on the ship’s topside was Sebastian Blood’s mushroom-shaped ship, the Hooded Whore. Attached to the Blenheim’s port side was the Morbid, Ross Mental’s devastatingly destructive vessel, recovered from its long stay landing pad at Ry-Fol’s spaceport. Finally, docked on the Blenheim’s starboard side, was Jodi Funk Junky’s modest but capable little ship, the Superfluous Third Nipple, also recovered from its long stay landing pad.

The subspace engines of the three smaller ships burned brightly, pushing the Blenheim onwards and upwards into empty space.

Panman wandered onto the bridge. He was sporting his more familiar black body armour, and munching noisily on a foot-long sub. He spoke between huge mouthfuls. “You know, this is the first food I’ve had in more than a day!” He took his seat at the weapons console. “If I hadn’t had that recent upgrade to my anti-gastric implosion suppression system, I’m almost certain my stomach would have collapsed in on itself!”

Peter the Ace, also back in his black body armour, spoke with great wisdom. “Have you ever wondered whether all those hyper-digestion enhancements and intestinal modifications within your digestive tract have extended your nutritional requirements to inefficient extremes?”

Panman stopped chewing and thought deeply for a second. Then he swallowed, allowing his peristaltic augmenter to force the food down and pack it hard into his reinforced stomach. He looked at his companion. “No.”

“Glad to hear it!” Peter the Ace said happily. “I’d hate to think that you doubted or regretted anything you’ve done.”

Panman shoved the last piece of the sub into his mouth. “Never have. Never will.”

Peter the Ace’s console bleeped. He looked down. “Ah! The warrior babes are calling.” He answered. “How are you both doing?”

Ginny the Screech ‘n’ Wail Mistress’s voice shrieked over the communications channel. “We’re doing great! We shot a thousand little holes into that saucer. It’s adrift and leaking vital fluids.”

“Well done.” Peter the Ace said, pleased with their performance. “I hope that that flabby bundle of defecation is still alive?”

“He is. But he’s not answering our calls.”

“That’s not unexpected. Beings as foul and ugly as him are usually intensely rude as well. Pull alongside the saucer and wait for us. We’ll rendezvous with you shortly.”

“OK. Drug Abuser out.”

Peter the Ace spoke to the ship. “Blenheim, set a course to bring us alongside the Drug Abuser.”

“COURSE SET. TIME TO ARRIVAL: SIXTEEN MINUTES AND FOUR SECONDS.”

“Excellent. I think I’d better send a quick message back to the palace and warn them that the emitter will fire.”

“Good thinking, Ace.” Panman said, getting to his feet. “I’m going to see how everyone’s doing down in the cyborg construction lab.”

Ross Mental’s new state-of-the-art fully mechanised legs were the most advanced ever created, and had quickly integrated into his nervous system after being built and fitted in only six minutes. But they still took some getting used too. With deep unease, the foul-mouthed bounty hunter stepped unsteadily around the Blenheim’s cyborg construction lab. “These fuckin’ legs are fucked!” he exclaimed. “I’m walking like a fuckin’ cripple!”

Justin, his metal body blackened and worn by repeated exposure to incredible heat and friction, was propped up against the lab’s wall awaiting repair. “The artificial legs that have been fitted to your body will take several hours to form the complex neural links to the motor control centre of your brain.”

Ross Mental glared at the battered mechanoid. “Shut the fuck up!”

Jodi Funk Junky was sitting on a bench next to where Justin was resting. She was staring at her highly polished cyborg lower right arm and hand. She smiled broadly. “It’s quite beautiful.” She said, clenching and relaxing her new hand. Insulated servos purred quietly. She looked up at Ross Mental. “And the new sensations it generates are quite thrilling!”

Ross Mental scowled. “You’re fuckin’ warped!”

The lab’s computer made an announcement. “CYBORG CONSTRUCTION UNIT RE-INITIALISATION COMPLETE. AWAITING NEXT PATIENT.”

Ross Mental stumbled noisily over to a stasis bowl at the far side of the lab. Reaching inside, he pulled a limbless and naked body out of the preservation gel. It was the old man, Rinkle. Turning, the foul-mouthed bounty hunter wobbled and clomped his way over to the cyborg construction unit. He placed the old man onto a bench at the centre of the unit, and then took a couple of steps back.

Immediately, a dozen mechanical clamps, blades, and probes grabbed Rinkle and began to fumble, feel, and slice their way around what remained of his body, scattering blood and dead tissue into the air. Several sensor receptors began rolling around the old man, scanning his molecular form. A large screen on the far wall of the lab displayed old Rinkle’s innards with remarkable clarity.

Ross Mental laughed, his mind taken off his annoying new legs for a moment. “This fuckin’ contraption never fails to entertain!”

With its initial scan and cleanup complete, the cyborg construction unit moved on to its next phase. Strobe lights flashed rapidly, and a cacophony of thunderous cracks sounded. The old man was enveloped in a cloud of white swirling smoke.

“Fuckin’ yes!”

The cyborg construction unit had to work much harder on its current patient than it had on Jodi Funk Junky and Ross Mental. The old man’s injuries were severe, and he had been on the verge of death for well over a day. There would be plenty of dead and gangrenous flesh inside him, and it would all need to be cleaned out and, where necessary, replaced with cyborg elements.

Panman wandered into the lab. He looked at the turbulent activity on the cyborg construction unit. He took a deep breath, relishing the aroma of cooked humanoid meat, one of his secret pleasures. “Hmm… Cool! Is that the old dude in there?”

“Too fuckin’ right it is!”

Panman looked at Ross Mental. “How are the legs?”

The foul-mouthed bounty hunter looked down. “Fuckin’ awful!”

“They look alright to me.”

“Oh yeah, they look fuckin’ great. But they feel like fuckin’ crutches!”

“You’ll soon grow to love them.” Panman said. “They are way more powerful than your original legs. Just think of the destructive power of the roundhouse kicks you’ll be able to do with them. You’ll literally be able to kick filthy miscreants in two!”

Ross Mental pondered that thought for a second. “You know, you’re fuckin’ right!”

“Of course I am.”

A piercing whoosh sounded as powerful extractor fans above the cyborg construction unit sucked away the smoke. In seconds, the air was cleared.

The machine bleeped, then fell silent. The word ‘Done’ appeared on a nearby display screen.

Panman walked over to the bench at the centre of the machine. Effortlessly he lifted up Rinkle, forcing the old man to stand on his gleaming new legs. Rinkle moaned softly, his head flopping forwards like a rag doll.

“Wake up, old dude!” Panman shouted. He pushed Rinkle’s head up.

Slowly, the old man’s large new synthetic eyes faded to life, glowing a deep shade of red.

Panman turned to Justin. “Ha! Look! He’s got your eyes!”

Justin responded in his usual irritating manner. “That is an illogical statement. Both of my eyes are still fitted securely to my…”

Panman frowned. “A joke! Lighten up, metal buddy!”

Old Rinkle shuddered, and then spoke weakly. “What is this place?” He looked at Panman. “Who are you?”

Panman grinned. “I’m Panman, a bounty hunter of vital astuteness and massive digestive ability. And you’re onboard the Blenheim, one of the greatest star ships ever constructed!”

Rinkle looked incredibly bewildered. He looked down at his highly polished legs, and his gleaming metal arms. “What happened?”

Ross Mental approached, his wide tritanium feet stomping heavily on the reinforced floor of the lab. “Hey, old fucker! Remember me?”

Rinkle looked up. A shallow smile, his first for two days, spread across his creased face. “Is… Is that you, my friend?”

“It certainly fuckin’ is!”

Rinkle repeated his question. “What happened to me?”

“Isn’t it fuckin’ obvious? You had your limbs burned off, and your fuckin’ eyes vaporised!”

“My eyes?” The old man said. He reached up and felt his own face. His metal hands clanked against his digital orbs. “But I can see you clearly, my friend. My eyes are fine.”

“Better than fuckin’ fine! Haven’t you noticed how much fuckin’ better things look?”

The old man scanned the room slowly. “Hmm… The cloudiness and fuzziness certainly appears to have gone.” He looked at Ross Mental and grinned crookedly. “These new eyes will help me appease the Inductor! I will gain new favour with him when he becomes aware of my remarkable optical prowess! I will regain my status as a recruiter! I will receive a gold star for my extraordinary vision!”

Panman whispered to Ross Mental. “The lump-being’s brainwashing still seems to have a hold on him. Take him away and sort him out.”

The foul-mouthed bounty hunter nodded. He whispered back to Panman. “Good idea.” He turned and spoke loudly to Rinkle. “Come with me, old fucker. Time to discuss something important.”

The old man grabbed Ross Mental’s arm. “Of course! We must plan our return to service the great Cause!”

Ross Mental and Rinkle clanked and stumbled out of the cyborg construction lab.

The computer made an announcement. “CYBORG CONSTRUCTION UNIT RE-INITIALISATION COMPLETE. AWAITING NEXT PATIENT.”

“Ah! Cool!” Panman said. He walked over to Justin, whose blackened and withered form was still propped up against the wall. “Well, metal buddy, I guess you’re all that’s left. Time to get yourself a shiny new body. Jodi Funk Junky and I will help you onto the…”

Justin interrupted. “I am not the last one in need of repair.”

With a cringe-inducing screech, a thick set of double doors opened up on the mechanoid’s scorched chest plate.

Panman stared at the contents of Justin’s chest cavity. “Whoa! I was not expecting to see that!”

Jodi Funk Junky got up from the bench to see what Panman was looking at. When she saw it she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. There, inside Justin, encased in a transparent domed helmet, was a young female humanoid head. The wide eyes of the disembodied head blinked furiously and flicked from one place to the next.

Panman glowered. “You had better have a good explanation for this!”

“I have.” Justin said.

Panman smiled. “Well, that’s alright then. I guess we should get her into the cyborg construction unit as soon as possible.” He reached inside Justin’s chest cavity and pulled on the helmet. With a snap, the umbilical tubes feeding the head broke free, spraying dark liquid into the air. The head’s mouth opened with shock. Her eyeballs rolled back.

Justin spoke. “The female considered her biological body as slim and sexually attractive. It would be logical to assume that a similarly shaped artificial body would prove psychologically beneficial to her recovery.”

Panman laughed. “Ha! You just want a sexy lady robot to leer at, don’t you?”

“I do not. I am only stating logic.”

“Relax!” Panman said. “I’m keen to see a sexy female cyborg as well.”

Jodi Funk Junky nodded vigorously. “Me too!”

Panman looked at her for a second. “How brave of you to admit that. Many wouldn’t.”

The lesser bounty hunter realised what she had implied. “Oh no!” She said, with some alarm. “I didn’t mean that…”

“Don’t try to take it back.” Panman said. “There’s nothing wrong with that kind of thing. At least between females.”

Before Jodi Funk Junky could respond, Panman turned and carried the helmeted head quickly over to the cyborg construction unit. “Emergency total body build.” The bounty hunter said. “Female form. Slim, shapely, and sexy.” Smashing open the helmet, he removed the female’s clammy and now unconscious head and placed it on the bench at the centre of the construction unit.

“EMERGENCY TOTAL BODY BUILD PROGRAM ACTIVATED.”

Immediately the cyborg construction unit hissed and whirred into a frenzy of activity, far more violent and rapid than before. Sensor arms, flesh cutters, and cauterisers shaped and scanned the female’s crudely cut neck, cleaning and preparing the wound for attachment to a new body, which was already under construction up on the ceiling.

Panman folded his arms and watched the mechanical commotion with anticipation. “This is going to be so cool!”