Hhi everone i leik 2 write stroies in my fav shows wer i'm uberl33t pw0nz0rz & dis is my furst upplod her but i tink u'll all love it!!!!!!

In the black emptiness, two lines of blue text suddenly appear:

A short while ago in a galaxy
you're all familiar with . . . .

They linger for a while, long enough that the average viewer can re-read them three, maybe four times.

Then they vanish.

Goddammit, I hate this part.

The title card's coming, I know it, and it's always loud and always scares the hell outta me.

Maybe not as bad as the THX sequence, but it's still pretty startling.

I suppose I could turn the volume down for it, since the movie starts with a big space battle anyway.

Hold on, do I have the surround sound on?

Doesn't matter, I just have to find the remote and then I can OH SH—

DAAAA

Dd-la-daaa

Dd-la-Da da da DA da da Da da da DA da da

Da da DA DAAAAA—

Do Do Do

LAUGH WARS

Episode the square velocity of Your Mom:

A NEW DOPE

It is a period of literary war.
Crappy fanfics, striking from
the fetid bowels of the Internet,
have dealt a crippling blow to
readership sensibilities.

As legions of twelve-year-olds
smothered message boards
with Mary Sue self-inserts,
Allied spies managed to steal
secret plans to the enemy's
ace-in-the-hole, the DOOM
SPHERE, an overpowered
space station with enough
concentrated fail to wipe out
an entire website.

Pursued by the "Emporer"'s
n00b cosplayers, Princess
Kaiser races home aboard
her space shuttle, custodian
of the stolen plans that can
save her people and restore
quality to the Internet . . . .

—Da da da DA!
Dd-la-da da da DA—da
DD-LA-DA dd-la-da DD-LA-DA dd-la-da
DD-LA-DA dd-la-da DD-LA-da-dladadla-da-dladadla-
da-dladadla-da-dladadla-da-dladadla-da-dladadla
DEE doo doo dee DEE doo doo dee
DEE doo doo dee DEE doo doo dee

*cough kaff hack*
"Sorry-" *kaff* "-I thought it'd-" *cough* "cleared up. Go on without me."

I'm not leaving you, man!

"You gotta! The show- *hakkocktf* "The show must go on! Look, the ships are already entering the frame! It's up to you now!"

But I need your help!

"You can do it! With or without a cappella! The Farce-" *hack* "-is strong in your family! There-" *cough cahhch* "-is another-" *hocchk* "-Narrator!" *cough kaff kaff* "Seriously, I gotta go find some Halls or something." *hoooackk*

*SLAM*

...

He's right.

The show... must go on.

I have to do this.

The Imperial Star Destructor bore down upon the Allied corvette, conveniently entering the vicinity of an inhabited desert planet. The shuttle kept up a steady fire, but dwarfed by the gargantuan triangle, it had about as much chance as Thorvald wrapping up Part II before the end of the fiscal year. As the deflector shields began to fail under sustained bombardment, a blast struck the engine quarters, rocking the ship and sending the crew careening about the halls.

Two of the ship's passengers were C. Aubrey Farnsworth, Esquire, a tall and well-mannered gentleman, and his inseparable companion Jenkins, a short, stocky, but equally distinguished man who, for reasons known only to himself, communicated exclusively via slide whistle. "Did you hear that?!" exclaimed Farnsworth, fidgeting with his immaculately-groomed moustache. Jenkins whistled in reply. Farnsworth handed him the newspaper. "They shut down the Mainz Reactor! Unemployment will go through the roof!" He threw his arms in the air. "This is madness!"

Editor's note: Due to death threats received by the scriptwriter, the reference to 300 originally planned for this scene has been cut.

Soldiers rushed through the halls, taking position in front of the somewhat stupidly-conceived single entrance to the entire ship. "We're doomed," Farnsworth muttered. Jenkins gave a whistle. Farnsworth shook his head. "There'll be no escape for the princess this time." Jenkins uttered another musical reply. "I suppose you're right," he nodded, pensive, "Assuming they won't blast escape pods on sight."

Despite the vacuum of space, the soldiers cast their glance ceiling-ward as the corvette was seized by the Star Destructor docking bay. As muffled sounds of memetic mutations met their ears, they trained their Uzis on the entrance. Suddenly they were bombarded by a high-pitched screech as someone on the other side took a hand saw to the door, evidently unable to figure out how to slide it open. The greener guards dropped their guns immediately, clamping their hands to their ears; a few tried to hold out, but lacking earplugs, were forced to pull back. As the door fell away, the daily "Rainbow Tylenol" remix blasted through the hall, and anyone not already writhing on the ground beat a hasty retreat as Imperial shock troops flooded in.

Farnsworth and Jenkins entered a hall just as troopers from both sides exchanged fire. Jenkins calmly made his way to the other side, and Farnsworth quickly shuffled behind him, easily dodging the shock troopers' horrible aim.

Back at the entrance, stragglers were looting the catatonic soldiers, but quickly snapped to attention as an exceptionally tall man in a black cape, black boots, a leather jacket, leather gloves, unsettlingly tight leather pants, and a Darth Vader mask strode in. Breathing heavily, either for effect or as a result of the mask, he surveyed his surroundings before marching onward, a contingent of shock troopers in tow.

Meanwhile, Farnsworth had turned his back for five seconds and Jenkins had wandered off. Hastily searching one of the maintenance alleys, he spied his partner down by one of the pod bays. A woman dressed in flowing white robes had just handed him a DVD, which he dutifully stored in his inside coat pocket. The woman then cast a glance down the hall and disappeared down a corridor. Straightening out his attire, Jenkins re-convened with Farnsorth. "At last!" he exclaimed; "Where have you been?" Whistle. "They're heading in this direction! What are we going to do?! We'll be sent to the Korean dungeons, gold-mining for WoW!" Jenkins gave a disparaging whistle and trotted down the opposite hall. "Waitaminute, where are you going?" Unseen to Farnsworth, the woman watched as they walked away, throwing off the hood of her dress to reveal two bread rolls tied into her hair on either side of her head. After confirming the gentlemen were headed in the right direction, she vanished into the depths of the machinery.

By this time, the fight had finished, and shock troopers paraded their captives through the halls in circles; not out of punishment, but because they had become lost. One of the less stupid soldiers found the Man in Black, in the midst of strangling the ship's captain. "The Doom Sphere plans are not in the main computer," he said.

"YOU MADE SURE TO CHECK OTHER HARD DRIVES BESIDES 'C', RIGHT?"

"Yes."

"AND THERE WASN'T A DISK OR ANYTHING IN THE DISK DRIVE?"

"No."

"NO OTHER EXTERNAL DATA STORAGE DEVICES?"

"Umm... no?"

His hesitancy sealed his fate. The Man in Black dropped the captain, grabbed the soldier, and head-butted him, sending him tumbling to the floor. Spinning around, he shouted to his guards: "SCOUR EVERY INCH OF THIS SHIP, SEIZE EVERY MP3 PLAYER, iPHONE, SD CARD, NO MATTER HOW MUCH PORN'S STASHED ON IT..." He thought for a minute. "IN FACT, ESPECIALLY IF THERE'S PORN ON IT." These Allies were a sneaky bunch. "AND BRING ME THE PASSENGERS. ALIVE."

The guards stood silent.

"NOT DEAD."

Even under their masks, he could sense the blank stares.

"DON'T KILL THEM. DON'T. NO."

After a momentary pause, they nodded in affirmation. Letting out a sigh, he left the room.

A group of shock troopers made their way through one of the maintenance alleys. One soldier noticed movement from behind a set of pipes. "There's one," he said, "Set for stun."

The woman in white levelled her pistol and delivered a shot clear through the trooper's plastic armour and into his chest. She turned to run, but another trooper fired a blast of memetic ululations that knocked her to the floor. "She'll be alright," he said as his comrades gathered her up. "Inform Lord Lackarse we have a prisoner."

Deeper into the bay, Jenkins whistled for Farnsworth as he shuffled in front of a low doorway. "Hey!" Farnsworth exclaimed, "You don't know what's in there! It's restricted! You might catch some plague and die!" Jenkins gave a curt whistle as he thumbed in the control key. "Don't you call me a paranoid pansy you dwarfish meddler!" he retorted as Jenkins clambered inside, "Now come out before Taniciusfox eats you." Jenkins responded with a short trill. "Secret mission?" Farnsworth repeated, "What plans? What are you talking about? I'm not getting in there."

A blast of meme narrowly missed Farnsworth's head. Jenkins whistled in condescension as his friend hastily ducked inside. "I'm going to regret this," he muttered as the door shut after him.

The clamps released and the escape pod shot off toward the planet. From one of the Star Destructor's port-side batteries, a gunnery crew watched its descent. "There goes another one," a grunt remarked.

"Hold your fire," the officer ordered, "If I kill two in the same second, I get bonus points."

The soldier looked up at his commander, opened his mouth, but thought better of it and faced forward.

"That's funny," said Farnsworth, looking out at the shrinking ships as the pod spiralled away, "I'd think our localized gravity would make us sit toward the nose of the pod." He turned to Jenkins. "Are you sure this thing's physics are natural?" Whistle. "Oh."

Princess Kaiser was escorted, handcuffed, into the main hallway and brought before the Man in Black. "Darth Lackarse," she sighed, "Only you could be so bold."

"YEP."

"The Fanfiction Moderators will not sit still for this. When they hear you've attacked a diplomatic—"

"DON'T ACT SO SURPRISED, YOUR HIGHNESS," he interrupted, "YOU WEREN'T ON ANY MERCY MISSION THIS TIME. SEVERAL TRANSMISSIONS WERE BEAMED TO THIS SHIP BY ALLIED SPIES; I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PLANS THEY SENT YOU."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted, defiant, "I'm a member of the Fanfiction Moderators on a diplomatic mission to the Doctor Whoniverse."

"YOU ARE PART OF THE REBEL ALLIANCE, AND A TRAITOR. TAKE HER AWAY!" he barked. As the escort continued down the hall, Lackarse and a subordinate made off in the opposite direction.

"Holding her is dangerous," the man interjected. "If word of this gets out, it could generate sympathy for the Alliance across the Internet."

"I HAVE TRACED THE ALLIED SPIES TO HER," he replied, "NOW SHE IS MY ONLY LINK TO FINDING THEIR SECRET BASE."

"She'll die before she'll tell you anything!"

"LEAVE THAT TO ME. SEND A DISTRESS SIGNAL, AND THEN INFORM THE MODERATORS THAT ALL ABOARD WERE PERMA-BANNED."

Another officer approached. "Lord Lackarse, the battle station plans are not aboard this ship, and no transmissions were made. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fighting. No Americans were aboard."

"AND THE POD WASN'T DESTROYED BECAUSE..?"

"The battery officer, er, wanted a multi kill."

"I SEE," he replied calmly, "TAKE ME TO THE STATION."

Lackarse and the two officers entered the control room. "That's him there," he said, gesturing. Lackarse walked quickly over to him.

"My Lord," he said, catching eye of the infamous warrior, "To what do I owe the—"

Lackarse grabbed the man and delivered a swift head-butt, sending him to the ground. He turned back to the officers. "SHE MUST HAVE HIDDEN THE PLANS IN THE ESCAPE POD. SEND A DETACHMENT DOWN TO RETRIEVE THEM; SEE TO IT PERSONALLY, COMMANDER. THERE'LL BE NO-ONE TO STOP US THIS TIME."

"Yes, sir."

OMG 4got 2 mensun dis is prt of a weries & if u leik ill post da otehr chapturz!!!!! loves 2 u all!!!! XOXOXOXO

Dunes.

Vast dunes.

Vast, featureless, boring, dunes.

And without the prospect of sandworms to make a wanderer's day exciting.

Oh, wait a minute, there's something.

It was the escape pod. It had landed surprisingly gently on the surface, allowing its passengers an easy exit. Woe betide the luckless souls whose capsule had instead pounded itself into the sands at terminal velocity: even if they survived impact, the force could very well have—

But I digress.

Farnsworth and Jenkins plodded along in a fairly linear direction; surrounded by brown nothing and with no clue where they were, they figured their chances were about equal anywhere else. Better, even.

"How did we get into this mess?" Farnsworth sighed, "I really don't know. We seem to be made to suffer. It's our lot in life." Jenkins gave a little chirp. "I've got to rest before I collapse," he whined, "I didn't get any sleep on the flight!"

They crested a dune, and Farnsworth looked out across the horizon. Featureless hills of sand stretched out in all directions. "What a desolate place this is," he remarked. Then his brow furrowed. "I say, look at those clouds. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think I saw any cover from space." Jenkins uttered a trill and started off toward the right. "Where do you think you're going?" Chirrup. "Well I'm not going that way. It's much too rocky." He jabbed a thumb behind him. "This way is much easier." Whistle. "What makes you think there are settlements over there?" Whistle. "Alright then, if you're so confident, how about a gentlemanly wager?" Jenkins made another trill. "Deal." They shook hands, and headed off in opposite directions.

Some indeterminate time interval later, and Farnsworth shuffled along, occasionally looking left and right, searching for the source of the ominous music that was following him. He stopped momentarily to examine the skeletal remains of what looked like some sort of sea serpent. No, that didn't make sense; it must be delirium setting in. Bugger, and he didn't even feel parched yet.

"Wait; what's that?" he asked the skeleton. Far off in the distance, he could see something ambling along the crest, flashing a light of some sort. "A transport!" he exclaimed, "I'm saved!" He waved his arms, hoping whoever was piloting would notice. "OVER HERE!" he shouted, "HEY! HEEEY! HELP! PLEEEASE HEEEELP!"

Dusk was setting in as Jenkins trod along what may have once been a narrow riverbed in a happier time for the planet, softly whistling to himself. Unseen to him, short, cloaked figures observed him from the rocks. A few stones loosed, catching the man's attention. He wasn't one to frighten easily, but his music quickly took on a shier tone while he cast shifty glances from side to side.

OHGOD—

I... sorry.

A figure leaped up in front of him, thrusting a multi-page fold of exaggerated French stereotypes in Jenkins' face. After a few seconds of vicious spasming, he collapsed unconscious. Prey subdued, the figure gestured for its comrades. A pack of the creatures descended from the nooks and crannies; they were clad in reddish-brown cloaks, glowing orange eyes penetrating their otherwise unseen faces. Communicating in high-pitched squeaks and other odd utterings, they gathered up Jenkins and carried him out of the valley and to the base of a giant trapezoidal vehicle. A chair descended from some mechanism above, and the critters seated Jenkins on it. One strapped a thick metal collar around the base of his neck before signalling the operator, who retracted the chair into the bowels of the crawler.

Jenkins came to, standing up quickly and shaking some steel wool inexplicably sitting on his head. He looked around, somewhat dazed. Wherever he was, it was filled with mechanical components and gentlemen milling about idly, each fastened with identical collars around their necks.

"Jenkins?" called a voice. He looked up to see Farnsworth slumped against a wall. The man immediately got up and picked his way through the miscellany. "By Jove, Jenkins!" he exclaimed, jubilant, "It is you!" Jenkins gave a twitter as the room began vibrating, the crawler setting off for its unknown destination.

---

The following day, the Imperial recovery team had located the crash site. "Someone was in the pod," reported the squad leader, "The tracks go off in this direction."

"Look, sir!" exclaimed a trooper, brandishing a tea packet, "Brits!"

Meanwhile, at some considerable distance from the landing site, the crawler rumbled to a halt. "We stopped." Farnsworth gave Jenkins a light shake; "Wake up." The far wall opened into the outside, and their kidnappers scrambled into the bay. "We're doomed," said Farnsworth. The creatures made their way through the room, singling out various gentlemen and chattering between themselves. One came over to the men, summoned a compatriot, and pointed to Jenkins, uttering some alien phrase before proceeding deeper into the hold. The other figure spun sharply to Farnsworth, saying something else he couldn't understand. "Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he answered feebly. He leaned toward Jenkins. "Will this never end?"

They along with a few other select gentlemen were escorted outside, lined up in front of the crawler. It had stopped outside some sort of settlement, a domed hut overlooking two deep holes and a number of small towers spread out across the surrounding flats. Two people emerged from the hut, one with brown hair and brown robes, the other younger, dark blond, clad in dirty white; one of the creatures spoke briefly to them, then pointed toward the line of gentlemen.

"Chris?" called a woman's voice, "Chri-is!" The young boy broke away and jogged to the edge of one of the holes, where his aunt stood by a multi-antenna'd component of their hideaway. "Chris? Tell Uncle if he gets an envoy, be sure he speaks Russian."

"ok," said Chris, and ran back to join his uncle.

Uncle and the cloaked figure proceeded down the line of gentlemen. The dealer pointed to a stout man in a red bowler hat. "Yeah, I'll take that red one." It pointed to Jenkins. "No, not that one." They strode up to Farnsworth. "You," he said, and the man straightened up; "I suppose you're trained in etiquette and protocol?"

"Protocol?" repeated Farnsworth, "Why, it's my primary schooling, sir! I am versed in all the customs—"

"I have no need for a protocol dandy," he cut in.

"Of course you haven't, sir," he replied, remaining cordial, "Not in an environment such as this. That's why I have been educated—"

"What I really need is a diplomat who understands the nuanced language of East European politics."

"Eastern Europe? Sir, my first work abroad was part of a cultural delegation to Poland; so close to Eastern Europe it might as well be part of it."

"Can you speak Russian?"

"Of course I can, sir; it's like a second language to me. I'm assuming—"

"Alright, shaddup," he cut in, "I'll take this one."

"Shutting up, sir," said Farnsworth.

Trade concluded, the dealer motioned to its fellows. "Chris," called Uncle, and the boy ran over, "Take these two over to the garage, will you? I want them cleaned up before dinner."

"But i was going to check for updates on multipolarity!!" he whined.

"You can waste time with your Internet friends when your chores are done. Now c'mon, get to it."

Chris sighed. "Alright, come on," he told Farnsworth. Jenkins let out a low whistle as his friend walked away. "And the red one, come on," added Chris, gesturing to the man in the bowler hat. He looked away and noisily rubbed his nose. "Well come on red let's go!!!" Chris exclaimed. Grumbling, the man slowly dragged his feet forward.

Jenkins shuffled from foot to foot. He gave a sharp blast on the whistle, and Farnsworth turned around. One of the traders ran up to him and brandished the magazine menacingly, and Jenkins immediately froze. Farnsworth gave a rueful frown, then resumed course toward the hut.

The man in the bowler hat abruptly sat down. "This is so utterly demeaning," he growled, crossing his arms. "I didn't blow sixty grand at Oxford to be treated like some redneck's hired help!" He patted his chest. "It's a disgrace to my position, it is!"

"Uncle onslow," Chris called. His uncle looked up from where he was completing the transaction.

"Yeah?"

"This gentelman has a bad motivator!! look!!"

Onslow turned to the dealer. "Hey, what're you trying to push on us?" It squawked some indignant response.

Smelling opportunity, Jenkins began fidgeting again as he blew on his whistle. Farnsworth tapped Chris' shoulder. "Excuse me, sir, but that gentleman is in prime condition; a real bargain!"

"Unce onslow," Chris called, "what about that one?" He pointed to Jenkins.

"What about that blue one?" Onslow asked, "We'll take that one."

AUTHOR'S NOSE: Onslow calld Jekins blue cuz hes wering a navel blu suit & his eyes r blue & maybe dey sprakl leik saphirz. IM NOT GAY!!!

The dealer quickly instructed the workers. Three ran up to drag the man in the bowler hat back to the crawler. "I'm quite sure you'll be very pleased with him, sir," Farnsworth encouraged, masking his enthusiasm, "He really is in first-class condition. I've worked with him before." Chris made a gesture as if to tell him to shut up. "Here he comes."

Jenkins strode over to them with a friendly chirrup. "Ok lets go," sighed Chris.

The two gentlemen lingered a moment as Chris returned to the hut. "I suppose," remarked Farnsworth, "That our wager ended in a draw."

---

"By Jove!" cried Farnsworth, "This bubble bath is going to feel so good!" He clambered into the tub, fully-dressed. "I've got such a bad case of sore joints I can barely move!"

Chris set down his model Chinese fighter jet before jumping to his feet. "It just isn't fair!" he moaned, "Aw, jehoshua's right, i'm never going to be a dictator!"

"Is there anything I might do to help?" Farnsworth offered.

"No. Not unless you can alter time, bribe the GM or teleport me off this rock."

"I don't think so, sir. I'm only a gentleman, and not very knowledgeable about such things. Not on this planet, anyway. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure which planet I'm on."

Chris grabbed some brushes and got to work tidying Jenkins' suit. "Well if theres a secret to winning IOT, your on the planet thats farthest from."

"I see, sir."

"You can call me christos", said Chris.

"I see, sir Christos," corrected Farnsworth.

"No, just ch— actually that has a nice sound to it."

"And I am C. Aubrey Farnsworth, Esquire," he proclaimed, stepping out of the tub. And this is my counterpart, Jenkins." He motioned to the man.

"Hello," said Chris, unenthused. Jenkins whistled in reply. Chris rubbed laboriously at a stain on the man's collar. "You've got a lot of carbon scarring; it looks like you've seen a lot of action."

"With all we've been through, sometimes I'm amazed we're in as good health as we are, what with the resistance and all."

Chris spun around. "You know about the resistance against the empire?!?!" he exclaimed.

"That's how we came to be in your service," replied Farnsworth, "If you'll take my meaning so." Jenkins whistled.

"have you been in many battles???"

"Several, I think. Actually, there's not much to tell," he confessed. Disheartened, Chris turned back to Jenkins. "I'm not much more than an interpreter, and not very good at telling stories. Though, not of anything interesting to Americans, anyway."

Chris rubbed so hard at Jenkins' collar he was practically clawing at it. "You've got a lot of dirt on your jacket," he observed; "were you on a star cruiser or—"

There was a sudden flash, and a holographic projection appeared from a pin on Jenkins' lapel. Chris fell backward onto the floor. "What's this?!?!" he exclaimed. Jenkins whistled.

"'What is what?'" Farnsworth parroted, "He asked you a question! What is that?"

It was the figure of Princess Kaiser, arms spread in a pleading pose. "Help me, Alec Guinness de Cuffe," she said, "You're my only hope." She turned her head to the right, crouched forward with her arm extended; the scene then looped.

Jenkins gave a short whistle, covertly reaching into his suit pocket. "Oh," said Farnsworth, "He says it's nothing, sir, merely a malfunction; old data. Pay it no mind."

Chris stared at the scene, dumbfounded. "Who is she?" he asked. "She's booty—i mean beautiful!"

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure, sir," he replied. "I think she was a passenger on our last voyage; a person of some importance as I believe. Our captain was attached to—"

"Is there any more of this recording?" Chris interrupted, still not pulling his eyes away.

Jenkins made a shrill chirrup. "Behave yourself, Jenkins," Farnsworth muttered, "You're going to get us into trouble! It's alright; you can trust him; he's our new patron." Jenkins gave a fluttered reply. "He says that he is the adjutant to Alec Guinness de Cuffe, a resident of these parts. And it's a private message for him. Quite frankly, sir, I don't know what he's talking about; our last employer was Captain Antietam. But, with all we've been through, Jenkins can be a bit eccentric." Jenkins whistled indignantly.

"Alec Guinness," Chris repeated, "I wonder if he means Ol' Ali-G."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but do you know what he's talking about?"

Chris rose to his feet. "Well i dont know anyone called Alec Guinness, but Ali-G lives out beyond the Dune Sea. Some retired actor or something." He looked back at the looping projection. "I wonder who she is. It sounds like she's in trouble, i'd better play back the whole message." He made toward Jenkins, but the man released a flurry of musical notes, causing Chris to back off.

"He says the retainer collar has pinched a wire in his recording device. But if you remove the collar, he might be able to play back the entire recording."

Chris grabbed the key. "I guess your too small to run away if i take this off." He unfastened the shackle, and the projection terminated. "Hey, where'd she go?? Bring it back!! Play back the entire message!!" he shouted.

Jenkins gave a brief chirp. "'What message?'" Farnsworth repeated. He lightly slapped the back of Jenkins' head. "The one you've just been playing! The one you're carrying inside your trickster's gadgetry!"

"Chris!" called his aunt, "Chri-is?"

"Im coming Aunt Beryl!" he called. He handed the keys and the collar to Farnsworth. "See what you can do with him, i'll be right back." he said, then left for the dining room.

Jenkins chirruped. "Just you reconsider playing that message for him," Farnsworth hissed. Whistle. "No, I don't think he likes you at all!" Whistle. "No, he doesn't like me, either."

Chris joined his aunt and uncle for dinner. "I think one of those gentelmen we bought is a spy!" he exclaimed as he sat down.

"What makes you think that?" asked Onslow.

"I found a recording while I was cleaning him. He says he works for someone called Alec Guinness." Beryl and Onslow exchanged glances. "I thought he might have meant Ali-G," he continued. "Do you know what he's talking about?" Onslow shook his head. "Maybe he's related to Ali-G?"

"That actor's just a crazy old wizard," Onslow stated. "Tomorrow I want you to take that gentleman to the FYROM Defence Centre and have him re-educated. That'll be the end of it; he works for us now."

"But what if this Alec Guinness comes looking for him??" Chris pressed, pouring himself a glass of green milk.

"He won't," said Onslow. "I don't think he exists anymore. He died about the same time as Star Wars."

"He knew Star Wars??" Chris asked excitedly.

Onslow looked up, annoyed. "I told you to forget it. Your only concern is to prepare those gentlemen for tomorrow. In the morning I want them up there at the embassy working on the welcoming reception."

"I think those gentelmen are going to work out fine," said Chris. "In fact i've been thinking about our agreement, about me staying on another season." Onslow eyed him, anticipatory. Chris continued: "And if these gentelmen do work out, i want to submit my application to the academy this year."

"You mean the next semester, before the sittings?"

"Sure, theres more than enough gentelmen."

"The sittings are when I need you the most!" replied Onslow. "It's only one season more! This year you'll earn enough experience that you'll know the basics of diplomacy, and then... you can go to the Academy next year. You must understand you need training, Chris."

"But its a whole nother year!!!" he whined.

"Look, it's only one more season."

"Yeah that's what you said when jehoshua and dom3k left." Chris abruptly left the table.

"Where are you going?" asked Beryl.

"It looks like i'm going nowhere," he retorted, glaring at his uncle. "I have to go finish cleaning those gentelmen." He stormed off back to the garage.

"Onslow, he can't stay here forever," reasoned Beryl; "Most of his friends are rulers now. It means so much to him!"

"I'll make it up to him next year. I promise."

She chuckled. "Chris just isn't a diplomat, Onslow. He has too much nationalism in him."

Onslow nodded. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Chris shuffled out into the outdoor twilight. ...Hey, wait a minute, that atrium was bright as day; how'd it get so dark all of a sudden? Did Chris spend, like, three hours climbing the stairs or something? Ah, screw it, where was I? He gazed across the flatlands as the planet's two suns... God DAMN it, HOW can a planet orbit TWO stars in such a way you can watch them BOTH set?! I'm trying to write a comedy, but this universe's shoddy physics are farcical enough already!

OK, you know what, I can't even remember what's supposed to be symbolic in this scene, so let's skip to the garage.

After half a minute of acting angsty, Chris returned to find the room dark and seemingly deserted. Just as he was about to crank the volume on his stereo, Farnsworth straightened up with a startled exclamation. "What are you doing hiding back there??" asked Chris.

"It wasn't my fault, sir!" the man said, "I told him not to go, but... he's desperate, determined! Kept babbling on about his mission!"

With a sigh, Chris grabbed a pair of binoculars and ran back up to the surface. Farnsworth joined him as he scanned the horizon. "How could i be so stupid?" Chris asked himself.¹ "He's nowhere in sight."

"Pardon me, sir, but couldn't we go after him?"

"Its too dangerous with all the noob-tubers around. Now we'll have to wait until morning."

"Chris," called Onslow, "I'm turning the router off!"

"JUST A MINUTE I HAVE TO MAKE A POST ON CFC!!!" he shouted. He turned to Farnsworth. "Now i'm really going to get it. That gentelman is going to cause me a lot of trouble."

"Oh, he excels at that, sir," Farnsworth replied, tongue-in-cheek.

With nothing further to be done, they returned to the hut for the night.

1 During the intermission between this chapter and the next, the audience is free to discuss its theories.

Onslow entered the atrium and looked around. "Chris?" he called, "Chri-is? Chri-is!" No reply. He walked into the kitchen, where Beryl was throwing cabbage into a pot on the stove. "Have you seen Chris this morning?" he asked.

"He said he had some things to do before he started today, so he left early."

"Did he take those two new gentlemen with him?"

"I think so," she replied, grabbing a ladle and stirring the mix.

"Well he'd better have those Brits in the embassy by mid-day, or there'll be hell to pay," he said, leaving the room.

Chris had only taken one of the gentlemen. Farnsworth piloted the hoverspeeder across the sands as Chris watched his Britfinder™. "Look!!" he shouted, and Farnsworth winced, "There's a gentelman on the scanner dead ahead. That might be Jenkins!! hit the accelerator!!!!"

The speeder sped into the spare split in the surrounding canyon. From up above, a figure took aim with a hand-held grenade launcher. Before he could fire, a comrade ran up and shook his shoulder. "Uhh?" he asked.

"Ugh," replied his comrade.

He abandoned his vantage point and the two ran for an awaiting transport. All across the plateau, similar figures descended from the rocks, but the APCs lumbered off as soon as the drivers were aboard, thus defeating the purpose of mechanized infantry.

Meanwhile, Chris and Farnsworth had caught up with Jenkins. Chris ran up in front of him and forcibly brought him to a halt. "Were do you think your going??" he exclaimed.

Jenkins whistled. "Master Christos is your rightful patron now!" rebuked Farnsworth. "We'll have no more of this Alec Guinness gibberish!" Trill. "And don't talk to me of your mission, either! You watch he doesn't deliver a million spankings right here!" Chirrup.

"yeah," said Chris, "you behave or i'll conquer your country in IOT!!!"

Jenkins suddenly uttered a string of sharp notes, shuffling from foot to foot. "Whats wrong with him now???" Chris turned to Farnsworth.

The man's face fell. "There are several creatures approaching from the south-east."

"Noob-tubers!!" exclaimed Chris, "Or worse!!" He ran to the speeder and picked up a rifle that... I don't think was there in the first shot. Let me check.

...

No, it was. Never mind.

"come on, let's to have a look," he said.

From a perch at the crest of a cliff face, Chris watched as two APCs kept driving into rock walls. "Well there are two apcs down tehre but i dont see any... wait there's noob-tubers, i can see one now." His vision was suddenly obscured as something jumped in front of his binoculars. He looked up into the derp face of a noob-tuber, grenade launcher brandished menacingly.

"HUURRR!! HUURRGH!!" he screeched. Farnsworth fell backwards, and— wait, did anyone hear that weird scream? It's like if somebody kneed Richard Simmons in the package. Maybe it's part of the music? Anyway, the noob-tuber tried to club Chris with the launcher as the boy rolled left to right.

Raspy shouts echoed through the valley. Jenkins watched from a rocky shelter as two noob-tubers dragged an unconscious Chris into view before the party approached the speeder. They started fighting with each other over who would get to drive when suddenly, a booming voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere thundered: "ENEMY AIRSTRIKE INBOUND." They looked up; a hooded figure in dark brown robes appeared over the horizon, arms flailing about. Shouting, the noob-tubers fled.

Jenkins watched apprehensively as the figure knelt down by Chris. It felt his wrist, then put a hand to his temple. Jenkins let out a soft whistle. The figure paused, straightened up, then threw off its hood, revealing the face of a bearded, grey-haired elder. "Hello, there!" he called, his voice that soothing and wise tone that makes one immediately love the guy. Love as in admire. Not, like, romantic attraction. Although I suppose that might happen too. Yeah, he has the sort of charisma for kiddie crushes. Wait, hold on, he's an old guy, that'd be just... Christ, where was I going with this?

Jenkins gave a short trill. "Come here, my little friend!" he said, gesturing, "Don't be afraid!" Chirrup. "Oh, don't worry," he replied, pointing to Chris, "He'll be alright." The boy began to waken, and the man put a hand to his shoulder, helping him to sit up. "Rest easy, son," he said, "You've had a busy day. You're fortunate to be all in one piece!"

Chris squinted at the figure above him. "Ali-G?? Boy am i glad to see you!!" Jenkins slowly shuffled over.

"The Junland Wastes are not to be travelled lightly." He stood up before helping Chris to his feet. "Tell me, young Chris: what brings you out this far?"

Chris sat down on a rock as he tried to get his bearings. "This little gentelman," he explained, pointing to Jenkins, who chirruped. "i think he's searching for his former patron. i've never seen such devotion in a gentelman before. He says he's the ajutant to an Alec Guinness de Cuffe. Is he a relative of yours?"

The man's brow furrowed as he took a seat opposite. "Alec Guinness de Cuffe?" he repeated, "Alec Guinness... Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time. A long time."

"i think my uncle knows him. he said he was dead."

"Oh, he's not dead." He rolled his eyes. "Not yet."

"You know him??"

"Well of course I know him. He's me." He tapped his chest for emphasis. Jenkins gave a little trill. "I... haven't gone by the name of Alec Guinness since oh, before you were born."

"Well then the gentelman does belong to you."

"I don't seem to remember ever sponsoring a gentleman," he replied. Chirrup. "Very interesting." The conversation was interrupted by a distant shout. "I think we'd better get indoors," he declared, rising to his feet. "The noob-tubers are easily startled but they'll soon be back, and in greater numbers."

Jenkins gave a whistle, catching Chris' attention. "Farnsworth!!" He slapped his forehead. Chris and Alec Guinness hurried over to where the man had fallen. Chris picked up the left sleeve of his coat, torn clean off. The retainer collar around his neck was broken by the fall. "Where am I?" he asked as they slowly lifted him up, "I must have taken a bad step." Jenkins let out a low note.

"Can you stand??" Chris asked, "We have to get out of here before the noob-tubers come back!!!"

"I don't think I can make it," wailed the man, "You go on, Master Christos! There's no sense risking your life on my account. I'm done for." Jenkins gave a sad whistle.

"Ok."

"Chris," scolded Alec Guinness. He helped Farnsworth to his feet.

They journeyed to Alec Guinness' house on the hillside—oh damn, I promised myself not to reference the re-releases. That's OK, as long as Han shoots first, I'll be safe from lynching. So; they went to his house. Jenkins finished sewing the sleeve back on to Farnsworth's coat.

"No, my father didn't fight in the wars, he was a navigator on a Spice frigate."

AUTHOR'S NOSE: Spice is capiutlizd cuz its malang frum DUN by Ffrank Hubbert wich is UB3RL33T PWNZ0RZ & Tatween is baskly leik Arrkaras cept poor & not l33t. DONT DO DRUGZ!!!!

"That's what your uncle told you?" Alec Guinness asked, with a hint of amusement. "He didn't hold with your father's ideals, thought he should've stayed here, and not gotten involved."

"You fought in the Fan Wars??" asked Chris.

"Yes," he chuckled. "I was once a Cheddar Monk, the same as your father." He leaned back, stroking his chin.

"I wish i knew him," he sighed.

"He was the best star pilot in the galaxy... and a cunning warrior. I understand you've become quite a good pilot yourself." Chris grinned. After a moment, Alec Guinness added, softly: "And a good friend. Which reminds me;" he rose to his feet and made his way over to a chest. "I have something here for you. Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn't allow it... He feared you might follow old Alec on some damn fool idealistic crusade, like your father did."

"Sir," said Farnsworth, "If you'll not be needing me, I'll rest for a while."

"sure go ahead," Chris replied. The gentleman lay down on the bench and immediately fell asleep. Alec Guinness returned, holding a metal baton. Chris leaped to his feet. "What is it??" Jenkins chirruped.

"It's your father's plasma foil. This is the weapon of a Cheddar Monk." He handed it to Christos. "Not as clumsy or random as a blaster." Chris pressed a button, and a pillar of blue light shot out of the end with a sound like "PSHEEEWWW". Awestruck, Chris waved it around; it made humming noises as it seemed to ionize the air around it. "An elegant weapon," continued Alec Guinness, "For a more... civilized age." He reseated himself. "For over a thousand generations the Cheddar Monks were the guardians of peace and good reading in the Old Republic. Before the Dark Times. Before the Crapfics."

Chris turned off the plasma foil, and the column retreated into the hilt. He turned to Alec Guinness, paused, then sat down. "How did Star Wars die?" he asked.

Alec Guinness took a moment to answer, evidently upset. "A young Cheddar Monk named Darth Lackarse, who was a cohort of mine until he turned to evil, helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Cheddar Monks. He betrayed and murdered Star Wars." Chris cast his glance downward. "Now the Cheddar Monks are all but extinct. Lackarse was seduced by the Dork Side of the Farce."

"the farce??" Chris repeated.

Alec Guinness smiled. "Now, the Farce is what gives a Cheddar Monk his humour. It's an energy field created by all living things; it surrounds us, it penetrates us, it binds the galaxy in laughter." Chris nodded, clearly understanding none of it.

Jenkins interrupted with a short tune on his whistle, and Alec Guinness rose to his feet. "Now, let's see if we can't figure out who you are, my little friend; and where you come from." Jenkins reached inside his coat pocket, and the holographic projection appeared on a table in front of him.

"I saw part of the message he w—" Chris began, then spun around.

"I seem to have found it," replied Alec Guinness.

"General Guinness," said Princess Kaiser with a short bow, "Years ago you served my father in the Fan Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to the Doctor Whoniverse has failed. I have given information vital to the survival of the Alliance to this British gentleman; my father will know the password to retrieve it. You must see this gentleman delivered safely to him at the Doctor Whoniverse. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Alec Guinness de Cuffe, you're my only hope!" As before, she leaned forward, and the message terminated.

Alec Guinness leaned backwards, contemplative. Chris stared at the table, pupils dilated. After a moment, the man turned to the boy. "I wasn't ogling her!!" he said abruptly.

Alec Guinness leaned forward. "You must learn the ways of the Farce... if you are to come with me to the Doctor Whoniverse."

"Doctor who??" Chris repeated, rising to his feet, "i'm not going to doctor who, i've got to get home, its late, i'm in for it already!!" He made his way toward the exit.

"I need your help, Chris. She needs your help! I'm getting too famous for this sort of thing."

Chris stared at Alec Guinness. Alec Guinness raised his eyebrows. "Listen, I cant get involved!! I've got work to do!! its not that i like the empire, i hate it, but there's nothing i can do right now!!" He sighed. "And its such a long way from here," he muttered.

"That's your uncle talking," Alec Guinness remarked.

"My uncle," he sighed, striding over to Jenkins, "how am i going to explain this???"

"Learn about the Farce, Chris."

The boy shook his head, returning to the entrance. "Look, i can take you as far as Anchorhead," he offered. "You can get a transport there to IOT or wherever your going......"

"You must do what you feel is right, of course."

Meanwhile, IN SPAAAACE!, a Star Destructor flew toward an egg-shaped space station with a large, dish-like depression in its upper half. Man, you thought that ship was big in the opening? This construction could eat, like a thousand of them and still have room for dessert. Yes, the DOOM SPHERE; not only did the architects fail at geometry, they went one step further and built the damn thing sideways.

Onboard, a collection of senior Imperial officers were seated around an oblong table, it, too, likely intended to be circular. One of the men, a perpetually drunk Englishman with a gravelly voice was addressing his fellow commanders. "Untiw thish bat'l'shtashion is fuw'y opewashonal, we ah' vu'ruble. Th'Alliansch ish too wew equipp'd; they're mow dangeroush tha' you rea'wishe."

"Dangerous to your starfleet, commander, not to this battlestation!" retorted Admiral Jimmy, a blond-haired boy about eight years old.

The man continued, somewhat louder: "Th'Alliansch wiw continue to gain shuppowt wi' th' Fanficshun Mod'ratowsch—"

"The Fanfiction Moderators will no longer be of any concern to us," interrupted a voice. Grand Mopp George I strode in to the room, chest thrust forward, Lackarse in tow. A balding man, George was dressed in regal attire and decorated with medals (mostly self-awarded), and sported a heavily waxed moustache. Although widely considered insane even by the Imperial inner circle, he was close to the Emporer, and even Lackarse, de facto second-in-command, deferred to him. "I have just received word that the E-E-Emporer has dissolved the council. PEHMANENTLY." The last word was punctuated by a Schwarzenegger accent. "Ze lahst r-r-r-emnants of ze Auld Rhepublik haff been SVEPT AVAW!" He sat down with a flourish.

"That'sh imposhibaw! 'Ow wiw th' Emprah maintain controw wiffowt th' adminsh?"

"Ze Emporer h-has ASSUMÉD DIRECT CONTROL of a-a-a-a-l-l-l-l site functions." He shook his head violently, spittle flying from his loose lips. "FEAR will keep the local forums een ligne. Fear of THIS BATTLESTATION!!!" His forceful exclamation was immediately undercut by a girlish giggle. Jimmy smirked.

"An' wot o' the' Reshishtansch? If th' Alliesh 'ave obtained a compwete technicaw weadowt o' thish shtashun, i' ish poshibaw, 'oweveh unloikley, th' they moight find a weaknesch, an' exshploi' it."

George looked at the man as though that was the dumbest thing ever uttered in the history of mankind.

"THE PLANS YOU REFER TO WILL SOON BE BACK IN OUR HANDS," Lackarse replied.

Jimmy stood up. "Any attack made by the Alliance against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained! This station is now the ultimate power in the universe!" he snarled, "I suggest we use it!"

"DON'T BE TOO CONFIDENT IN THIS EPITOMIC FAIL-CANNON YOU'VE CONSTRUCTED," Lackarse retorted. "THE ABILITY TO OBLITERATE A WEBSITE IS INSIGNIFICANT NEXT TO THE POWER OF THE FARCE."

"Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Lackarse!" Jimmy shot back. "Your sad devotion to that ancient emotion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes—" Lackarse took a few steps toward the kid, "—nor given you clairvoyance enough to find the Alliance's hidden fort—" His tirade was cut short as Lackarse raised his hand, making a squeezing motion. Jimmy's hands flew to his crotch, and he clamped his legs tightly together. The officers looked at the scene with alarm; George with a bored expression.

"I FIND YOUR LACK OF LULZ DISTURBING."

Jimmy began bobbing forward, face contorted in anguish.

"Enough," said George, unenthused. "Lackarse, release him."

Jimmy let out a scream. "TOO LATE." Fighting back tears, the boy ran to the bathroom to clean himself up. Lackarse resumed his sentry by George's side.

"Actually," said George, "That was hilarious. Do it again." He looked around eagerly for a new victim, but after a minute of no response, he frowned and continued. "Now Lord Lackarse will pr-r-rovide us with the location of the R-R-Resistance forTRE^ss by the time this STAtion is OPerAtionAL. We will then CRUSH the Alliance with ONE! SWIFT! STROKE!" The Grand Mopp promptly slammed his head into the table.

Chris, Alec Guinness, Jenkins and Farnsworth investigated the wreckage. They had stumbled upon a ruined crawler while en route to Anchorhead, the bodies of its crew inter-spaced with broken components strewn about the immediate vicinity.

"it looks like the noob-tubers did this all right," said Chris, "Look, there's grenade boxes, apc tracks, its just i've never heard of them hitting anything this big before."

"They didn't," Alec Guinness replied. "But we are made to think they did. These tracks are single-file; noob-tubers always ride as one line forward to show off their numbers."

"These are the same jawas that sold us Jenkins and Farnsworth," Chris realized.

"And these blast points," the sage continued, walking toward the blown-out treads, "Too narrow for grenade impacts." Chris stepped forward to look. "Only Imperial shock troopers are so imprecise."

"But why would imperial troops want to slaughter jawas???" Alec Guinness looked toward the gentlemen a little ways off, and Chris followed his gaze. "if they traced the british here they may have learned who they sold them to and that would lead them back.......HOME!!!!!!!!"

Chris bolted for his hoverspeeder. "Wait, Chris!" Alec Guinness called, "It's too dangerous!" But the boy wouldn't listen. He leaped into the driver's seat and gunned the engine, zooming off across the sands. The man let out a sigh and strode over to the gentlemen.

"I beg your pardon, sir," Farnsworth began abruptly, "I was too polite to ask before, but... why does this planet enslave gentlemen, anyway?"

"Ever since the Great Austerity during the Fan Wars, the planet Greece has been devoid of any meaningful culture," Alec Guinness explained. "Gentlemen are a rarity; almost none come from the planet anymore, and foreigners staying here longer than a few days of their own accord is virtually unheard of. When they aren't reselling dubiously-indentured individuals, the Jawas prowl the wastes for anyone wandering outside a permanent settlement. British gentlemen are especially valuable, for some odd reason."

Farnsworth absent-mindedly rubbed at his neck, nostrils flaring. "So uncivilized, this world."

Meanwhile...

Doo DOO, DOO, deedeeDOO, doo,
Doo DOO, dee DOOdooDOOdooDeeDOOO—

Chris pulled into the homestead. Thick black smoke billowed from the holes in the ground, clouds likewise streaming from the ruined above-ground hut. Chris leaped out of the speeder and power-walked toward his home. "Uncle onslow?!?!" he shouted, "Aunt beryl?!?!?!?! UNCLE ONSLOW!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

No reply. He scanned the burnt wreckage left to right. He froze as his vision fell upon the entrance to the hut. After a moment staring in disbelief, he tried his best to bury his face into his shoulder.

He was too late.

They were already blown to smitheroons.

Please, let us take a moment to honour the memory of Onslow and Beryl, two innocent, hard-working citizens who, through no fault of their own, were cut down in the Empire's pursuit of fanfiction desecration.

:'(

REQUIESCAT IN PACE

---

Elsewhere, some monumental distance away, three starfighters flew toward the Doom Sphere. They were the iconic Imperial Kite Flyers, so named because they resembled a ball stuck between two sails. If one could hear their engines, they would strongly resemble something between a man shouting and an 18-wheeler braking abruptly; but being in space, no such sound was perceived outside of the cockpit, and even that was muted.

Lackarse and two crew members with helmets so wide they might have been auditioning for Black Helmet in Spaceballs marched down an oppressively narrow hexagonal corridor. They entered a small room; Princess Kaiser looked up from her seat on a nondescript metal slab-cum-bed-cum-bench. "AND NOW, YOUR HIGHNESS," Lackarse announced, stepping forward, "WE WILL DISCUSS THE LOCATION OF YOUR HIDDEN ALLIED BASE." Kaiser looked toward the doorway where a tall, Germanic figure with a white medical apron entered. Lackarse turned to the man. "YOU HAVE THE MIND PROBE READY?"

The man took a moment to survey the scene, before his face contorted in disgust. "Mein Gott!" he exclaimed, "I'm a doctor, not a Nazi! Vhat, did you sink just because I have zis accent I'd acviesce to your little torture stunts?! Guten Tag, mein Herr!" He made for the exit.

"BUT—"

"I SAID GUTEN TAG!!" And with that, the doctor stormed out of the cell.

Back on Greece, Chris returned to the derelict crawler. Farnsworth and Jenkins had scavenged shovel-like apparatuses and were burying the Jawas in makeshift graves. Alec Guinness donned his hood as Chris made his way over. "There's nothing you could have done, Chris," he tried to console the boy, "You would have been killed, too. And the gentlemen would now be in the hands of the Empire."

Chris looked up into the actor's face. "i want to come with your to doctor who," he said.

"Are you sure?" he asked, somewhat surprised.

"Theres nothing for me here now."

"I know I was insistent before, but—"

"i want to learn the ways of the Farce and become a Cheddar Monk like my father."

"Chris, you've just lost your family. If you want time to grieve..." But as he stared into the boy's face, he conceded that some people just weren't born emotionally stable. Sighing, he clapped a hand to Chris' shoulder, and they returned to the speeder.

Twenty minutes later, the posse was poised on a cliff ledge, gazing across a sprawling city off in the distance. "CFC Off-Topic," Alec Guinness declared; "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious."

As they navigated their way through the heart of the city, they—hey, would you get that gratuitous CGI out of my face? THANK you! Pardon me. They were stopped by a squad of shock troopers.

"How long have you had these gentlemen?" the leader asked.

"About three or four seasons?" Chris replied.

"They're up for sale, if you want them," added Alec Guinness.

"Let me see your identification," said the leader.

Alec Guinness waved his hand discreetly. "You don't need to see his identification."

"We don't need to see his identification," repeated the trooper.

"These aren't the Brits you're looking for."

"These aren't the Brits we're looking for."

Chris looked from Alec Guinness to the squad leader in confusion.

"He can go about his business."

"You can go about your business."

"Move along."

"Move along," he instructed, waving them through, "Move along."

Chris continued through the street, pulling up across from a nondescript cantina. A Jawa ran up and began pawing over the speeder. "I can't abide those Jawas," Farnsworth whined, "Disgusting creatures!"

Chris hopped out. "Go on. go on!" He shooed it away. "I cant udnerstand how we got by those troops," he said, turning to Alec Guinness, "i thought we were dead!!!"

"The Farce can have a strong influence on the weak-minded," he explained.

Chris nodded, obviously understanding none of it. He looked toward the cantina. "Do you really think we'll find a pilot here that'll take us to doctor who???"

"Most of the best freighter pilots are to be found here; although watch your step: this place can be a little rough."

"I'm ready for anything!!"

Chris and Alec Guinness made their way inside, followed closely by Jenkins and Farnsworth. As Alec Guinness proceeded into the bowels of the bar, Chris gazed, stupefied, across the room. Every nationality of every country seemed piled into the cantina: Poles, Cambodians, Canadians, Bolivians, Congolese, French, Egyptians, Eritreans, Aleuts, Zulus, El Salvadorians... also some aliens.

Chris slowly descended the short staircase. "Hey!" barked the bartender, "We don't serve their kind here!"

"what?"

"Your gentlemen. They'll have to wait outside, we don't want them in here."

Chris turned to Farnsworth. "Why dont you wait out by the speeder, we dont want any trouble."

"I heartily agree with you, sir," he replied.

Chris took up a seat between Alec Guinness, who was in conversation with what looked like a werewolf, and The Walrus. He leaned forward, tugging on the bartender's shirt. The man looked around with a somewhat annoyed expression. Chris nodded to his place at the table. The bartender returned to the taps, then spun around with a plastic cup of green milk. The boy nodded his thanks, then looked around the room at the other tables. A Medic toasted his companion Heavy Weapons Guy. Two aliens in NASA space suits argued with each other. A dolphin and a boar shot tiddly-winks in the corner. Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and Vincent Price quietly recalled their Hammer career.

Chris turned back to his beverage, but was interrupted by a shove from The Walrus. He uttered something unintelligible, and Chris faced forward. Seconds later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find himself face-to-face with The Carpenter.

"He doesn't like you," he said.

"Sorry," said Chris, evidently not. He faced forward, but The Carpenter wrenched his shoulder back to face him.

"I don't like you, either!" Other patrons looked toward the source of the spike in noise. "You just watch yourself! We're wanted men!" He tapped his chest; "I have the death sentence on twelve sea floors!"

"I'll be careful," Chris said weakly, trying to return to his drink.

The Carpenter spun him around again, pressing his face almost nose-to-nose. "You'll be DEAD!"

"This little one's not worth the infraction," Alec Guinness interjected. "Now," he smirked, "I'll order us some oysters."

The Carpenter let out a screech, throwing Chris off his stool and into a table. The bartender dove for cover as The Carpenter levelled his pistol. In one swift motion, Alec Guinness withdrew his plasma foil and literally disarmed the man, The Walrus quickly falling to the floor, submissive. He eyed the room for any other ill-advised challengers before deactivating the foil. Show concluded, the patrons returned to their refreshment as the band struck up a new number.

Alec Guinness nodded to the werewolf, who nodded back. They slowly walked over to the upended table, and Alec Guinness helped Chris to his feet. "DId I win?!?!" he exclaimed, rubbing his temple.

Alec Guinness carefully guided him further into the cantina. He nodded to the werewolf behind him. "Arkady here is first mate on a ship that might suit us." Chris looked behind him. The werewolf stood about seven feet tall, an ammunition belt strung over his shoulder like a sash. He wore pants with some sort of army camouflage, and carried an assault rifle on his back. He eyed the boy bemusedly.

Outside, Farnsworth and Jenkins observed shock troopers interrogating someone across the street. "I don't like the look of this," he muttered. Jenkins gave a trill in reply.

Back in the bar, Arkady, Chris and Alec Guinness were joined at a table by a thirtysomething, yet rather dashing man in an SS uniform. "Hermann Fegelein," he introduced himself, "I'm captain of the Centurion Raptor. Arkady here tells me you're looking for passage to the Doctor Whoniverse."

"Yes, indeed," said Alec Guinness, "If it's a fast ship."

"Fast ship?" Fegelein repeated scornfully, "You've never heard of the Centurion Raptor?"

Alec Guinness shook his head. "Should I have?"

"It's the ship that read through Homestuck in less than one hundred hours." He was answered with only blank stares. "I've outrun Imperial starships. Not the local bulk cruisers, mind you, I'm talking about the big Coruscanti ships." A pause. "She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo?"

"Only passengers. Myself; the boy; two gentlemen..." he leaned forward, "And no questions asked."

Fegelein smirked. "What is it, some kind of local trouble?"

"Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements."

Fegelein leaned back. "That's the real trick, isn't it? And it's going to cost you something extra." Alec Guinness narrowed his eyes. "Ten thousand, all in advance."

Chris' jaw dropped. "Ten thousand???? We could almost buy our own ship for that!!!"

"But who's gonna fly it, kid? You?"

"You bet i could i'm not a bad pilot myse—" he interrupted himself, turning to Alec Guinness, "We dont have to sit here and listen to this!!" He motioned to leave, but Alec Guinness forced him back down.

"We can pay you two thousand now, plus fifteen, when we reach Doctor Who." Chris looked up at him, incredulous.

"Seventeen?" Fegelein surmised. The man nodded. "Alright, you've got yourself a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Docking Bay 94."

"94," Alec Guinness repeated.

Fegelein looked up. "Looks like somebody's beginning to take an interest in your handiwork." He nodded to the bar, where the bartender was directing shock troopers to their table.

By the time the troopers reached the table, however, Chris and Alec Guinness had vanished. They took a quick look, then moved on. "Morons," Arkady muttered.

"Seventeen thousand!" Fegelein exclaimed, "Those guys must really be desperate. This might even be enough to pay off the Old Man." They stood up. "Get the ship ready; I'll meet you in a few minutes."

"Aye, sir," the wolf saluted before departing.

Alec Guinness held his hood over his face as he and Chris walked back out into the street. "You'll have to sell your speeder," he noted.

"Thats ok, i'm never coming back to this planet again."

They walked past Farnsworth and Jenkins without acknowledgement. The tall man eyed them, befuddled.

Just as Fegelein left the table, an alien that looked like a cross between the bug-eyed green guys from Star Wars and the Vux from Star Control thrust a blaster into his chest. «Going somewhere, Fegelein?» it asked mockingly, forcing him back into the seat.

"Yes, Greedy," he grinned mirthlessly, "As a matter of fact, I was just going to see your boss. Tell Dolfy that I've got his money."

The alien named Greedy took a seat opposite him, keeping the gun trained on the Obergruppenführer. «It's too late,» it replied, «You should have quit while you were ahead.» Fegelein put his feet up on the table. «The Führer's put a price on your head so large, every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. I'm lucky I found you first.»

"What's up with these subtitles?" he asked abruptly, gesturing; "You may have an accent but it's not like you're speaking in a totally alien language."

«Don't change the subject,» Greedy glared. «If you give me the money, I might forget I found you.»

"I don't have it with me..!" he groaned, "Tell Dolfy—"

«Hitler's through with you,» Greedy snapped. Beneath the table, Fegelein slowly threw off the safety on his Walther pistol. The alien chuckled, oblivious: «He has no time for anticologists that won't follow through on a hit.»

"It took months to work my way into Imperial confidence," Fegelein retorted, "Do you think I had a choice?"

«You can tell that to the Führer. He may only take your ship.»

"Over my dead body."

«That's the idea.» If Greedy could smile, that's what Fegelein would be seeing. «I've been looking forward to this for a long time.»

"Yes, I bet you have."

At that moment, a figure dressed in a flight suit and bearing uncanny resemblance to Jonathan Goldsmith tripped and bumped into Greedy, who instinctively squeezed the trigger, delivering a shot into the wall mere inches from Fegelein's head just as the Obergruppenführer delivered his own blast, frying the alien in a split second.

"Oh God!" said the man, nearly dropping his soda cup as nearly everyone looked toward the table, "Oh God, I'm so sorry! My foot caught on a rock, and it looked like he was gonna shoot you anyway, so—"

"Thanks a lot, dunkass," Fegelein cut in, "You ruined my establishing character moment!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" he blubbered, "ItwasanaccidentIswear PLEASEDON'TANTICMETODEATH!!"

"What's your name?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"T-Tyo Parkins," he stammered.

Fegelein grinned menacingly. "Well, Tyo, just make sure you never join the Navy." He turned about and strolled out of the bar, flipping a coin to the bartender. "Sorry about the mess," he said coolly. Tyo picked at his collar.

At around the same time, two Kite Flyers sailed away from the underside of the Doom Sphere. Onboard in the main observation deck, George I stroked his chin forcefully, surrounded by the cabal of senior officers. "OUR DIFFICULTY IN FINDING AN UNSCRUPULOUS DOCTOR IS CONSIDERABLE," Lackarse was explaining, "IT WILL BE SOME TIME BEFORE WE CAN EXTRACT ANY INFORMATION FROM HER."

"...What?" George said suddenly. "Sorry Lackey, zoned out of a sex. I mean out for a sex. I mean sex. I mean sec." He giggled.

Jimmy approached, puffing out his chest and standing on his toes. "The final check-out is complete; all systems operational! What course shall we set?"

Then the George got an idea. An awful idea! The George got a wonderful, awful idea! Hunching over, he made little circular skips, cackling to himself. "Per-r-r-rhaps she would r-r-r-respond to an... alternative form persuasion!" He jabbed a finger, skyward.

"WHAT ARE YOU ON?" Lackarse asked calmly.

"And can I have some?" piped in Jimmy.

"Moybey when yer oldah," the Englishman said.

"I theeenk eet ees TOIM ve demonztrated ze FULL POWAH of this station!" George thrust his hips forward. He turned to Jimmy, tilting his head until it was almost at a ninety-degree angle. "Set your course for... DOCTOR WHO!!"

"Y-Yes, sir," Jimmy stammered, doing his best to leave without bolting from the room.

Two other people inside a room were Jenkins and Farnsworth. The latter eyed the alleyway nervously before retreating within. "Lock the door, Jenkins," he said, and the shorter man complied. Seconds later, an Imperial patrol passed by.

"Alright, check this side of the street," said the group leader. He walked over to the door just closed and rapped seven times. "It's secure; move onto the next one."

Once they had left, Jenkins opened up, whistling softly. Farnsworth looked out to see if the coast was clear. "I would much rather have gone with Master Christos than stay here," he muttered. Whistle. "I'm not sure what all this trouble is about, but I'm sure it must be your fault." Chirrup. "Jenkins, that was most unprofessional of you!" he hissed. Jenkins resealed the door.

Further along, Chris completed the sale of his hoverspeeder. "Ok, give it to me, I'll take it," he said angrily. Grabbing a shawl, he and Alec Guinness headed off. "Look at this!!" He thrust his hand forward. "Ever since the XPSP3 came out they just arent in demand!!"

"It'll be enough," the man replied. They made their way through the crowd, Chris occasionally glancing warily about. As they passed by, a duck in a long black cloak spotted them and began trailing the men.

Later on, they met up with the gentlemen and the posse made its way to the hangar. "If the ship's as smooth as his antics," mused Alec Guinness, "We ought to do well." Chis threw the shawl over his shoulders as they approached Arkady standing outside the entrance to the bay. He snapped to attention before leading them inside.

The duck, meanwhile, leaned against a stone pillar, raising a walkie-talkie to its beak. "Quack-wack-wack quack wack quack," it said.

The group entered the bay. The Centurion Raptor was a round, wide, flat vessel, fairly uninspiring, with a small round cockpit on its right side. Fegelein was underneath, fiddling with various circuitry.

"What a piece of junk!!!" Chris exclaimed. Alec Guinness rolled his eyes.

"She'll make point-five past light speed," Fegelein said, walking over. "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid. I've made a lot of special modifications myself. But;" he spread his arms, ushering them in, "We're a little rushed, so if you'll just get on board, we'll get out of here."

Arkady climbed aboard and made his way to the cockpit, setting down his rifle and taking his seat at the controls. The passengers followed quickly enough. "Hello, sir," Farnsworth called politely as he and Jenkins passed Fegelein, who returned to tidy up his work.

A contingent of shock troopers marched down the alley, the leader carrying a heavy laser cannon. The duck ran up to him. "Quack," it said.

"Which way."

"Wak-wak," it answered, pointing to the bay, "Wak-wak quack-wack-wack wack." It then ran off.

"Alright, men," the leader ordered, "Load your weapons." They charged inside. "Stop that ship!" he shouted, eyeing Fegelein; "Blast 'em!" Fegelein merely eyed the troopers with bemusement as they opened fire, drawing his Walther and proceeding to return fire. The shock troopers, despite their numbers, couldn't find their target if their life depended on it, and a few warning shots from Fegelein sent them scrambling for cover as he blew large chunks out of the adobe masonry above them.

He scrambled aboard and sealed the entrance, dashing to the cockpit. "Skip the pre-flight check; we're leaving now," he called. Chris and Alec Guinness quickly joined the gentlemen, who were already buckled in, as the ship rumbled to life.

"Oh my," moaned Farnsworth, "I'd forgotten how much I hate space travel!"

The Centurion Raptor lifted off, the shock troopers firing uselessly as it oriented itself skyward. A street patrol spun around as the ship gunned its engine, soaring toward the heavens. In a surprisingly short span of time, the Raptor had exited the atmosphere. "Contact on scanner," reported Akardy, "Capital ship."

Fegelein eyed the control panel. "Looks like an Imperial cruiser. Our passengers must be hotter than I thought. Try and hold them off," he ordered, rising from his seat; "Angle the deflector shield while I make the calculations for the jump to light speed." The first mate sprung into action.

Not long afterwards, two more Star Destructors bore down on the vessel. Fegelein returned to the pilot's chair. "Stay sharp," he said, patting Arkady's arm, "There're two more coming in; they'll try to cut us off."

Chris managed to find his way to the cockpit, joined shortly by Alec Guinness. "Why dont you outrun them?? I thought you said this thing was fast!!"

"Watch your mouth, kid, or you'll find yourself floating home," he shot back. "We'll be safe enough once we make the jump to hyperspace. Besides, I know a few manoeuvres; we'll lose them."

The first ship was already in range, and began assaulting the Raptor with its forward battery. "Here's where the fun begins," grinned Fegelein.

"How long before you can make the jump to light speed?" Alec Guinness asked.

"It'll take a few moments to get the coordinates from the navi-computer."

The ship rocked from another blast. "Are you kidding?!?!" shouted Chris, "Their right there gaining!!!!!!!"

"Travelling though hyperspace isn't dusting crops, boy," Fegelein replied, audibly vexed, "Without precise calculations we'd fly right through a flame war or bounce too close to The Last Conformist and that'd end your trip pretty quick, don't you think?"

A red light began flashing on the control panel. "Proklyatiye," muttered Arkady.

"Whats that ???" Chris pointed.

Fegelein slapped his arm out of the way. "We're losing the deflector shield. Go strap yourselves in; I'm going to make the jump to light speed." Chris and Alec Guinness obediently retreated to the passenger quarters.

"Now or never," Arkady whined nervously. Fegelein pulled down on a breaker-switch-like lever. The stars stretched out into long columns of light. To the Star Destructors, the Raptor vanished from view.

Since 1963, the blue-white marble of the Doctor Whoniverse had maintained a fairly stable orbit around the star Cosmodramatica Britannia. Although it suffered a slight aberration in 1996, by 2005 it had returned to a steady pace around the sun. Now, for the first time in sixteen years, it was threatened again as the Doom Sphere slowly propelled itself into sight of the fandom.

George I stood in the main observation deck, idly scratching his bottom, as the Doctor Whoniverse entered the centre of the viewport. An aide approached; George gave him the finger without breaking his view, and the man departed, sighing.

"We've entered Cosmodramatica Brittannia!" Jimmy reported.

"I can see that," George snapped in a valley girl accent, "I'm not stoopid, yanno!"

Jimmy rolled his eyes as two men brought Princess Kaiser forth, Darth Lackarse following closely behind. "Imperator George!" she exclaimed as the men departed, "I should have expected to find you holding Lackarse's leash. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought onboard."

George grinned as he broke wind; the moment's irony was lost to him. "Always knew you fancied me, candyheart." He grabbed her face and squeezed her cheeks into fish lips. "You don't know how hard I found it signing the order to..." he gave a protracted sniff that turned into a snore. Striking as pitiful a pose as he could, he finished: "Terminate your life."

"I'm suppissed you had the couage to take the ressponssibility yoursself," the princess managed through a locked jaw.

George puckered his lips and leaned in to steal a kiss, but Lackarse threw his hand between them. George looked up at the man as though he had just committed high treason. "SHE, UH... SHE HAS COOTIES," he said hastily.

George let out a horrified yelp, leaping backwards as if he'd just suffered an electric shock. Feeling all eyes on him, he hastily recompiled himself. "Pr-r-r-rincess Kaiser," he boomed, puffing out his chest, "Before your—" loud sniff "—Execution... I voold leik yoo to be mein GUEST, aht ah ssseremony that weeel make zis battlestation..." George spent about twenty seconds striking a pose and drawing out the suspense until it was lost. Realizing the man had forgotten where he was going with it all, Lackarse coughed politely. "OPERATIONAL!" he finished sharply, before vigorously shaking his head: "NOOOOO website will DARE oppose the Emporer now!"

Princess Kaiser responded softly with a snide smile: "The more you tighten your grip, George, the more fandoms will slip through your fingers."

"N-eeheeheeheeheehOT after we demonstrate ze POWAH—" hip thrust "—of this station!" Doubling over, he tiptoed back over to his captive. "In a way, you haff determined the CHOICE of the website that will be destroyed f-f-first." Kaiser wiped the spit from her face. "Since you are..." he paused, before slowly tilting his head in what was probably intended for a dramatic effect, "Reluctant... to provide us with the location of the r-r-r-r-rebel base..." He turned away from her and walked a few steps forward. "I have chosen to test this STAtion's destructive power..." He spun around sharply, bug-eyed, right eyelid lightly spasming. "ON YOUR HOME FANDOM!! OF DOCTOR WHO!!"

"No!" she cried softly, stepping forward, "Doctor Who is a landmark of sci-fi television! It's a quality franchise! You can't possibly—"

"YOU WOULD PREFER A DIFFERENT TARGET?!" he screamed, doubling over in a violent bow forward, "A MILITARY TARGET?! THEN NAME THE SYSTEM!!"

The princess tried to articulate words, but nothing surfaced. George ground his teeth, breathing through his mouth, advancing on her until she had backed up into Lackarse. Anyone who knew George knew of his tantrums; but to bear witness in person, especially when the fury was directed to oneself, was cause for legitimate fear. When he was genuinely angry, anything could happen, and not merely sexual indiscretion. "I grow tired of asking this," he growled, "So it will be the last time." He was almost pressing himself against her; the fumes of the morning's binge drinking invaded her nostrils. "WHERE is the rebel base??"

Kaiser looked past his shoulder and out through the viewport. The Doctor Whoniverse was in full, splendid view; the Doom Sphere looked to be strategically positioning itself to eclipse the sun in preparation for the strike. "9GAG," she exhaled, head falling to her chest, "They're at 9GAG."

"There!" George exclaimed, suddenly jubilant, "You see, Lord Lackarse? She can be r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-reasonable!" He spun about to Admiral Jimmy. "Continue with the operation; you may fire when ready."

"WHAT?!" shrieked the princess.

"You're far too trusting, sweetcheeks," George giggled, tapping his fingers against his lips; "9GAG is too remOTE to make an efFECtive demonstration—but don't worry!" He licked his lips loudly and sloppily. "We will deal with your r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rebel friends soon enough."

"No..!" she muttered, advancing as George turned his back, but Lackarse restrained her.

"Commence primary ignition," a voice called over the intercom. Operators in a distant room began mashing buttons as they desperately tried to recall the arming sequence. Whatever they did must have worked, as a greenish-yellow beam shot through a tunnel where two crewmen were perched precariously on a narrow, open platform, shielding their eyes against the pure failure. Five more like beams shot from the outer edges of the dish, converging at a point above the centre, fusing into a single solid column that struck the Doctor Whoniverse, obliterating the fandom in a fiery explosion.

At that moment onboard the Centurion Raptor, Chris was practicing with his plasma foil against a training robot while Jenkins and Arkady engaged in a real-time-strategy simulation. Alec Guinness suddenly put a hand to his chest and hastily sat down. Chris noticed, and deactivated his foil before making his way over. "Are you alright?? whats wrong???"

"I felt a great disturbance in the Farce," he replied shakily, "As if millions of voices suddenly cried out in non-satirical terror, and were suddenly silenced." He shook his head, brow furrowing. "I feel something terrible has happened." He remembered Chris, quickly rubbed his forehead, then dismissed the boy, saying: "You'd better get on with your exercises."

"OK." Without further thought, he left Alec Guinness to contemplate in silence.

"Well, you can forget your troubles with those Imperial slugs," called Fegelein, strolling into the room and taking a seat by Alec Guinness; "I told you I'd outrun them." He eyed Chris, engaged in practice, and Alec Guinness, who sat silently. "Don't everybody thank me at once," he muttered, sarcastically but with a hint of concern. "Anyway, we should reach the Doctor Whoniverse in about 0200 hours."

Across from him, Farnsworth observed the holographic display of the war game. Jenkins blew two stacatto notes as he moved a small platoon of soldiers forward into an open valley. Arkady countered with a mechanized regiment. "Now be careful, Jenkins," the taller gentleman commented. The shorter man let out a low trill, ordering an artillery barrage on his own position just as Arkady's troops moved to overtake them. Both forces were devastated; but Arkady, having committed the larger force, bore the brunt of the fire. Jenkins gave a triumphant whistle.

"Kakogo chyerta?!" Arkady shouted.

"It's a fair move!" Farnsworth exclaimed, before eyeing the battlefield with disgust. "Atrocious, but fair. Screaming about it won't help you."

"Let him have it," Fegelein cut in, "It's not wise to upset a Werwolf."

"But sir, nobody worries about upsetting a gentleman!"

"That's because gentlemen don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose," he explained with a small smirk.

Farnsworth's eyes widened, glancing back to Arkady. "Your first mate wouldn't do that, surely..!"

"You want to try him?"

He eyed said first mate for a moment, then leaned in toward his compatriot. "I suggest a new strategy, Jenkins: Let the werewolf win."

Arkady threw his hands behind his head as he leaned back against his seat, smiling smugly.

Fegelein turned his attention to the auxiliary controls as Alec Guinness regained himself and resumed observing Chris. The boy blocked a shot from the robot, following it nervously, positioning his blade in anticipation of the next. "Remember," called Alec Guinness, "A Cheddar Monk can feel the Farce flowing through him."

"What, do you mean it controls your actions??"

"Partially. But it also obeys your commands."

The robot banked to the left, zapping Chris' thigh before he could react. Fegelein let out a sharp laugh. "Hokey religions and gentlemen's weapons are no match for a good pistol at your side, kid."

Chris deactivated the foil. "you dont believe in the Farce, do you??"

Fegelein sighed. "Kid, I've studied the history of comedy and pulled some of the greatest antics the world's ever seen; but I've never seen anything to convince me that humour exists as some sort of Platonic form controlling everything. There's no mystical energy field controlling my prank-planning." Alec Guinness chuckled to himself. "It's just a matter of inspiration and careful timing."

"I suggest you try it again, Chris," said Alec Guinness, rising from his seat and retrieving a pilot's helmet. "This time, let go your conscious self..." he walked over and fitted the helmet on the boy's head, "And act on instinct."

Chris scoffed in disbelief as he stared into the opaque inside of the helmet's protective visor. "With the blast sheild down i cant even see!! How am i supposed to fight????"

"Your eyes can deceive you," he replied, "Don't trust them."

Chris assumed a combat stance and engaged the foil. He waved blindly around as the robot shuffled about, scoring another shock. "Stretch out with your feelings," Alec Guinness commanded. Chris sighed, and tried again, trying to sense the robot's position. Both stood silent, save the hum from the foil; then he parried pre-emptively, blocking three shots in quick succession. "You see?" he said as Chris disengaged, "You can do it!"

"I call it luck," Fegelein interjected.

"In my experience, there's no such thing as luck."

"Look," he pressed, "Going against remotes is one thing. Appealing to a live audience? That's something else." He returned his attention to the control panel as it began beeping. "Looks like we're coming up on Doctor Who." He rose from his seat and made his way back to the cockpit.

"You know, i did feel something!!" Chris told Alec Guinness, "I could almost see the remote!!"

"That's good!" He clapped a hand to Chris' shoulder. "You've taken your first step into a larger world."

Back in the Doom Sphere, George I was seated at the far end of the main office, where he could watch the guards posted at the door, and Lackarse, standing casually at the right side of the table. Presently, he was watching the monitor at his share of the desk, and didn't notice the arrival of an elder officer until the man spoke up.

"Our scout ships have reached 9GAG—"

"Jesus Christ!" shouted George, "KNOCK FIRST!" The officer eyed him suspiciously; sweat was pouring down his face and his hands had flown the cover the screen, even though it couldn't be seen by anyone else in the room.

Hesitantly, he continued: "They found the remains of a comedy site, but they estimate it has been deserted for some time. They are now conducting an extensive search of the surrounding websites." Receiving a blank stare from the Grand Mopp, the officer nodded and left the room.

After a few moments, George found his voice. "She lied..." he breathed in disbelief. "She LIED to us!!" He jumped to his feet, walking over to Lackarse. "To ME!! I loved her like sun raise... How could she... DO this to me?!" he sobbed, looking into Lackarse's face with a pleading expression.

Lackarse had numerous theories, all of which he kept to himself. Instead, he merely replied: "I TOLD YOU SHE WOULD NEVER CONSCIOUSLY BETRAY THE ALLIANCE."

"TEHminate her!" he shouted, "I-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M—" George's head began shaking violently from side to side, jaw loose. Sensing the onset of another episode, Lackarse quietly left the room. He returned five minutes later. "—M-M-M-M-M-M-M-EEEEDIATELY! —Hey, where'd you get that ice cream?"

Meanwhile, the Centurion Raptor sailed on, oblivious that its scheduled arrival time was permanently delayed. "Stand by, Arkady. Here we go; cut in the sub-light engines." Fegelein flipped a number of overhead switches, and the electric blue tunnel that surrounded the ship broke into long columns, that quickly shrank into individual stars. "What the-?" he muttered, taking his seat as the ship was jostled by outside debris.

"Well this is unexpected," said Arkady. Racing past the ship were small rocks of varying sizes.

"Aw," groaned Fegelein, "We've come out of hyperspace into a meteor shower. Some kind of asteroid collision." He looked at the control panel with confusion. "It's not on any of the charts."

Chris and Alec Guinness quickly joined the pilots. "Whats going on???" asked the boy.

"Our position is correct, except... no Doctor Who."

"What do you mean??? WHere is it??????"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, kid," he sighed, "It's not here. It's been totally blown away."

"WHAT?!?! HOW?!?!?!?!?!"

"Destroyed, by the Empire," Alec Guinness said calmly.

Fegelein turned to him, incredulous. "The entire starfleet couldn't destroy the whole fandom; they've managed DDoS, sure, but to actually delete the webs—" At that moment a high-pitched pulse-tone chimed. "There's another ship coming in," he announced.

"maybe they know what happened??" offered Chris.

"It's an Imperial fighter," said Alec Guinness.

Two brief flashes erupted in front of the cockpit, and the Kite Flyer soared past. "It followed us!!!!" Chris exclaimed.

"No, it's a short range fighter," noted Alec Guinness.

"There aren't any bases around here; where'd it come from?" Fegelein asked.

"Sure is leaving in a big hurry!! if they identify us we're in big trouble!!!!"

"Not if I can help it," he muttered. "Arkady, jam its transmissions."

"It'd be as well to let it go," advised Alec Guinness, "It's too far out of range."

"Not for long."

The Raptor locked on to the Kite Flyer. "A fighter that size couldn't get this deep into space on its own," he mused.

"it must have gotten lost, been part of a convoy or something," suggested Chris.

"Well, he won't be around long enough to tell anybody about us," said Fegelein.

"look at him hes heading for that small moon!!!!"

"I think I can get him before he gets there. He's almost in range..."

Alec Guinness straightened up. "That's no moon," he said softly, "It's a space station."

"It's too big to be a space station..!" Fegelein scoffed. Yet as the Raptor continued its pursuit, the satellite grew steadily larger. Its surface was a uniform grey, and its shape was not natural; it looked like an egg laid sideways.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," Chris murmured.

"Turn the ship around," said Alec Guinness.

"Yeah... I think you're right," Fegelein replied, overcome by a rare episode of doubt. "Full reverse; Arkady, lock in the auxiliary power." The engines revved as the ship began shaking, but its forward velocity remained steady. "Arkady, lock in the auxiliary power," he repeated, louder. The first mate threw a switch, laboured breathing betraying his own increasing unease.

"Why are we still moving towards it?!?!?!?!" shouted Chris.

"We're caught in a tractor beam! It's pulling us in!"

"Theres got to be something you can do!!!!"

"There's nothing I can do about it, kid," he replied angrily, "I'm in full power. I'm going to have to shut down." He flipped some overhead switches and the ship disengaged to neutral. "But they're not going to get me without a fight," he added.

"You can't win," said Alec Guinness, "But there are alternatives to fighting."

The four watched, helpless, as the Raptor was invisibly towed toward the station, now so big it occupied nearly the entire view of the canopy. The Doom Sphere's crew tracked the ship as it decelerated toward the station's equator. "Clear Bay 327," reported the intercom, "We are opening the magnetic field." The ship slowly flew past shock troopers patrolling laser turrets guarding the docking bays, and soon enough was within the station proper.

A squad of shock troopers followed an RC car into the hangar where the Raptor had landed. "Close all outboard shields!" someone called. Nobody knew what an "outboard shield" was, or why troopers should be running about the bay if it was still open, but such was Imperial protocol.

The intercom buzzed in the main office. "Ey—ye-e-e-es?" said George in his best Simpsons impersonation.

"We've captured a freighter entering the remains of the Doctor Whoniverse," reported the officer. "Its markings match those of a ship that blasted its way out of CFC-OT."

"THEY MUST BE TRYING TO RETURN THE STOLEN PLANS TO THE PRINCESS," surmised Lackarse. "SHE MAY YET BE OF SOME USE TO US."

Lackarse departed the office and brought two subordinates down to the hangar, where a veritable company kept watch over the ship. He met with an officer and two shock troopers that had just debarked. "There's no-one on board, sir," he reported. "According to the log, the crew abandoned ship right after take-off. It must be a decoy, sir; several of the escape pods have been jettisoned."

"DID YOU FIND ANY GENTLEMEN?"

"No, sir. If there were any onboard, they must also have jettisoned."

"SEND A SCANNING CREW ABOARD," he ordered, "I WANT EVERY PART OF THIS SHIP CHECKED."

"Yessir."

"I SENSE SOMETHING..." Lackarse breathed, "A PRESENCE I HAVE NOT FELT SINCE..." He trailed off, then turned about and marched quickly away.

"Get me a scanning crew in here on the double!" shouted the officer, "I want every part of this ship checked!"

"COPYCAT," called Lackarse.

Two shock troopers completed yet another redundant tour of the Raptor. As they left, one of the floor panels lifted up; Fegelein, Walther in hand, and Chris emerged, followed shortly by Alec Guinness, Arkady, and the gentlemen further down the hall. "Boy its lucky you had these compartments!!" said Chris.

"I use them for smuggling," he explained. "I never thought I'd be smuggling myself in them. This is ridiculous," he called to Alec Guinness. "Even if I could take off, I'd never get past the tractor beam."

"Leave that to me," replied the actor.

"Damn fool, I knew that you were going to say that!"

"Who's the more foolish?" he retorted, "The fool, or the fool who follows him?"

"There's a political joke in there somewhere," said Arkady.

Outside, the scanning crew arrived and uncovered whatever device was used to perform this so-called scan. "The ship's all yours," reported a shock trooper. "If the scanners pick up anything, report it immediately." The troops moved out as the men carried the box aboard, two soldiers standing sentinel outside.

There was a slight commotion as the equipment was set down. "Hey down there!" called a voice, and the troopers looked up into the ship, "Could'ja give us a hand with this?" One of the soldiers nodded, and they entered the Raptor. Shortly thereafter, a shot rang out, followed by two more.

In one of the communications rooms overlooking the hangar, a junior officer in both senses of the word was growing impatient that the sentry hadn't responded to his text message, so he buzzed him through the station intercom. "TF:MTC, why aren't you at your post?" he asked. "TF:MTC, will you update?" No reply. He hastened over to the window and saw the soldier emerge from the ship, look up, and tap on his helmet. The officer gave a quick salute before making for the exit. "Take over," he called to a comrade, "We've got a retard."

"The accepted term is 'technologically impaired'," the man shot back.

"Whatever, n00b. I'll see what I can do." He opened the door and found himself face-to-face with a shock trooper and a werewolf.

"Boo," said Arkady before punching the man's lights out. The other officer rose to his feet, but the shock trooper blasted him before he could draw his sidearm. They and Alec Guinness entered the room as the gentlemen and another shock trooper caught up. Fegelein removed his helmet and glanced out the observation window as Chris sealed the door before removing his.

"You know between his howling and your blasting everything in sight its a wonder the whole station doesn't know we're here!!!" barked the boy.

"Bigot," Arkady muttered.

"Bring 'em on," Fegelein shot back, "I'd prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around."

Jenkins gave a whistle. "We found the computer outlet, sir," Farnsworth reported to Alec Guinness.

"Plug in," he replied, "He should be able to interpret the entire Imperial network."

Jenkins chirruped, withdrew a computer cable from within his coat, and plugged it into the socket. As he turned the node right and left, he balanced a small screen in his other hand as he played his whistle. "He says he's found the main controls to the power beam that's holding the ship here. He'll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor." The screen above flickered with green outlines as the computer scanned through the station schematics. "The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in several locations. A power loss at one of the terminals will allow the ship to leave." As if on cue, the scan zeroed in on a nearby terminal.

Alec Guinness turned toward Chris and Fegelein. "I don't think you boys can help me now," he said, "I must go alone."

"Whatever you say," replied Fegelein, dubious.

"I want to go with you!!!" said Chris, stepping forward.

"Be patient, Chris. Stay and watch over the gentlemen."

"But he can—"

"They must be delivered safely, or other fansites will suffer the same fate as Doctor Who." He put a hand to the boy's arm. "Your destiny lies along a different path than mine." He opened the door, glancing down the hall before turning back to Chris. "The Farce will be with you. Always."

Chris watched as he ran quickly down the hallway before resealing the door.

"You're never too old for suicide, I guess."

"You said it, Arkady," muttered Fegelein. "Where did you dig up that old fossil?" he asked Chris.

He stomped toward them. "Ali-G is a great man!!"

"Yeah, great at getting us into trouble."

"i didnt hear you give any ideas!!!!!"

"Well anything would be better than just hanging around waiting for him to pick us up."

"Who do you think—"

Their spat was interrupted by a sudden flourish by Jenkins. "What is it?????" Chris asked.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure, sir," said Farnsworth. "He says 'I've found her!' and keeps repeating 'She's here!'."

"well who??? who has she found????"

"Princess Kaiser."

"The princess!!!! shes here?!?!?!?!?"

"Princess?" asked Fegelein.

"where???? where is she?!?!?!?!?!"

"Princess?" repeated the Obergruppenführer, "What's going on?"

Jenkins uttered a short melody. "Level 5, Detention Block AA-23," Farnsworth relayed. Another cascade. His face fell. "I'm afraid she's scheduled to be terminated."

Chris took a breath. "No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he said calmly and with complete control. "Weve got to do something!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"What are you talking about?!" Fegelein walked over to them, hoping they would eventually remember him.

Chris sized himself up. "The gentelmen belong to her shes the one in the message we got to help her!!!!!!!!!"

"Now look, don't get any funny ideas! The old man wants us to wait right here."

"But he didn't know she was here!!!" Chris returned to the Brits. "Look, will you just find a way back into the detention block????"

"I'm not going anywhere," Fegelein called, putting his feet up on the control panel.

"Their going to execute her!!!!!" shouted Chris, "Look, a few minutes ago you said you didn't want to just wait here to be captured now all you want to do is stay?!?!"

"Marching into the detention area is not what I had in mind," he shot back.

"But their going to kill her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Better her than me." He sat up and swivelled around, pretending to fiddle with the room's controls. Chris looked away, had an idea, then turned back to Fegelein.

"She's rich."

"Bozhye moy," groaned Arkady, clapping a hand to his forehead.

Fegelein turned around. "Rich?" he repeated, skeptical of the boy's motive.

"Rich.... powerful..... listen, if you were to rescue her, the reward would be........."

"What?"

"Well more wealth than you can imagine!!!!"

"I don't know, I can imagine quite a bit."

"You'll get it!!"

"I'd better."

"You will!!!!!"

Fegelein let out a deep sigh. "Alright kid. But you'd better be right about this." He jabbed a finger.

"OK—"

"What's your plan?"

"Uhhh..." He looked around the room, rubbing his hands. "Farnsworth, hand me those binders there will you?" The man complied. "OK... now..." he walked over to Arkady. "I'm going to put these on you."

"Back the hell up, perv!" he shouted, shoving Chris aside, "I'm not here to play your furry BDSM fantasies!"

"OK... you... you put these on," he stammered, handing the cuffs to Fegelein.

The Obergruppenführer gave a knowing smirk to his comrade. "Don't worry, Arkady, I think I know what he has in mind."

"Master Christos, sir," called Farnsworth, "Pardon me for asking, but... what should Jenkins and I do if we're discovered here?"

"Lock the door," he answered, heading for the exit.

"And hope they don't have blasters," added Fegelein.

"Good luck," muttered Arkady.

"That isn't very reassuring." Jenkins whistled sarcastically as Farnsworth rested his arm on the man's shoulder.

Cruising along one of the Doom Sphere's many identical corridors was a dormouse in a miniature Mercedes convertible. It drove up to a werewolf being escorted by two shock troopers. "And a fine day to you, sir!" said the werewolf, "May I take a moment of your time to enlighten you as to the joys of Amway?"

"SQUEEEEEEEEAK!!!!" screamed the mouse. Throwing the gearbox into reverse, it completed a two-point turn in zero points and sped off in the opposite direction, leaving a faint trail of burning rubber.

"Works every time," grinned Arkady.

The trio continued down the hall, Fegelein brandishing an M249 SAW someone had carelessly left in the halls. Chris cast occasional nervous glances about them, but passing officers were so engrossed in their text-messaging that they paid no notice. A couple even walked right into him. They eventually reached a set of elevators and summoned a lift. They assumed a flanking position on either side of the doorway, Chris fidgeting anxiously, Fegelein stealthily tripping people up. After about a minute, the doors opened and a crewman walked out, soon replaced by the infiltrators.

"I cant see a thing in this helmet!!!" whined Chris. He certainly couldn't see Fegelein roll his eyes. An officer tried to join them, but the Obergruppenführer pointed to Arkady, and the man quickly moved on.

Elsewhere onboard the station, Alec Guinness poked his head out from behind a bulkhead, watching a contingent of shock troopers march down the hall. He stealthily crossed to the other side, catching sight of Darth Lackarse. The Dork Lord paused a moment, anticipatory, before shaking loose the feeling that he was being watched by someone other than the pervs in the CCTV control room and moved on. Alec Guinness pr—

He'd barely put a foot forward before leaping back against the wall as Lackarse stopped again. Now that he thought about it, if there was a wayward former colleague mucking about the station, shouldn't they have him on video by now? He may not have been privy to each and every detail of the Doom Sphere's construction, but security cameras would have to be a given for something as expensive as this. He could put his apprehensions to rest by checking the feeds. He continued down the hall.

Now Alec Guinness—scratch that, Lackarse lurched to a halt. Who was he kidding? He'd never seen a security camera in here..! Not even one of those tinted domes so people couldn't tell which way it was facing. Leave it to George to cut corners and leave a gaping hole big enough through which to lose a Star Destructor. He stomped off. The Grand Mopp may be untouchable, but SOMEone was getting a head-butt for this.

After waiting a half-minute, just in case, Alec Guinness continued through the corridors.

Inside the elevator, Chris realized he couldn't fit the binders around Arkady's wrists. "This is not gonna work," muttered Fegelein.

"why didnt you say so before????" asked the boy.

"I did say so before," he shot back.

The door opened behind them and they stepped into... well, I guess prisons have reception desks now. Chris nonchalantly drew his gun as Arkady stealthily concealed his wrists. Everyone in the room looked to the posse.

The supervising officer straightened up. "Where are you taking this... thing?" Arkady rolled his eyes.

"Prisoner transfer from Cell Block A113?" replied Chris.

"I wasn't notified," said the man, "I'll have to clear it." He signalled to two men on the other side of the room, who drew pistols and made toward them. Just as one reached Arkady, the werewolf discarded the ruse and clubbed him upside the head.

"Look out, he's loose!" shouted Fegelein, before handing Arkady the machine gun.

"He'll tear us all apart i'll get him!!!" shouted Chris, shooting wildly as the officer tried to sound the alarm. The man levelled his pistol, but was struck in the side and collapsed to the floor. The second guard fired wildly before taking a blow to the chest. As it turned out, the station did have cameras, but rather stupidly positioned to watch over control panels, not the people using them. Either way, they were soon blown apart as the trio took turns blasting consoles and other guards.

When the dust had settled—and I mean literal dust; lasers aren't as clean as you'd suppose—Chris rushed over and dragged the corpse of the officer off the control panel that was now buzzing with incoming messages. Fegelein quickly joined him, poring over the dashboard. "We've got to find out which cell this princess of yours is in. Here it is; 2187." He pointed down the hall. "You go and get her; I'll hold 'em here." Chris departed and Fegelein pulled off his helmet before skimming through the messages. "Spam... spam... spam... lewd spam... DYOS spam... here we go!" He leaned toward the speaker and pressed the talk button. "Everything's under control; situation normal," he reported calmly.

"What happened?"

"We had a slight weapons malfunction, but everything's perfectly alright now. We're fine, we're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?"

"We're sending a squad up."

"Uhh, negative, negative, we have a reactor leak here now; give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak; very dangerous."

"Hold on, I know that voice... Great Scott, am I being trolled by Fegelein?!"

Fegelein glanced at Arkady, raising an eyebrow. "Guilty as charged," he replied.

"Oh my God, I always knew this day would come!! HEY GUYS!! I'VE GOT A LIVE FEED WITH FEGELEIN!!!"

The commlink erupted in a cacophony of noise. "Settle down, settle down, one at a time! I'll be happy to address all your questions. Now, please hold for a moment." He put the speaker on mute before shouting down the hall: "Chris, we're gonna have company!"

The boy scrambled up and down the block until he found Cell 2187. Fumbling over the controls, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Princess Kaiser awoke and looked up at the shock trooper quite obviously ogling her. "Aren't you a little short for a shock trooper?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Huh?" Chris snapped out of his fantasy. "Oh the uniform..." He pulled off the helmet and dumped it on the ground. "I'm christos200 i'm here to rescue you!!!!"

"You're who??" she asked dazedly, sitting up.

"i'm here to rescue you i've got your gentelman im here with Alec Guinness!!!!!!!"

"Alec Guinness?!" she repeated, leaping to her feet, "Where is he?!"

"Come on!!!!!!" The princess sped out of the room, followed quickly by Chris. This romantic rescue wasn't going as he'd planned.

Meanwhile, Lackarse stood before George in the main office. "HE IS HERE," he said simply.

"Alec Guinness de Cuffe?" asked George, idly picking at his nails, "What makes you think that?"

"A TREMOR IN THE FARCE," Lackarse replied. "THE LAST TIME I FELT IT, WAS IN THE PRESENCE OF MY OLD MASTER."

"Surely he must be retired by now," George countered, unenthused.

"DON'T UNDERESTIMATE THE FARCE."

George rose to his feet, giving Lackarse a condescending smile. "The Cheddar Monks are extinct!" he boomed, spreading his arms. "Their laughter has looooong since faded from the universe." There was a buzz on the control panel. George rolled his eyes and walked back toward his seat. "You, my friend, are all that's left of their religion." He hit the speaker. "What?"

"We have an emergency alert in Detention Block AA-23."

"The PRINCESS?!" he breathed. "Put ALL sections on RED ALERT!!"

"ALEC GUINNESS IS HERE," Lackarse smirked invisibly, "THE FARCE IS WITH HIM."

"If you're right," huffed George, "He must NOT be allowed to escape!"

"ESCAPE IS NOT HIS PLAN. I MUST FACE HIM, ALONE." Lackarse turned about and left the room.

Alec Guinness replaced the telephone receiver. He really was astounded the station's entire communications system ran on a single channel.

In the detention block, Arkady finished affixing the last booby-trap just as a hissing noise began emanating from one of the elevators. He sauntered over to Fegelein, who casually shouldered his rifle. There was a loud bang and muffled screams as the shock troopers set off one of the charges. They waited. A few minutes later, another attempt from the neighbouring elevator; another bang, more screams.

"I almost feel sorry for them," Arkady muttered.

It was about ten minutes and dozens of bodies later that the shock troopers finally broke through before being mercilessly gunned down. The carnage might have lasted all day, but for Arkady exhausting the belt. The pair beat a fighting retreat into the corridor, where they were met by the Princess and a thoroughly out-of-breath Chris. It was a big station, and the hall proved longer than he remembered.

"Can't get out that way," advised the Obergruppenführer.

"Looks like you managed to cut off our only escape route," Kaiser deadpanned.

"By all means, feel free to lead the charge," Fegelein grinned mirthlessly.

A close blast sent them diving for cover. Chris remembered he'd accidentally pocketed the mobile phone of his uncle (mayherestinpeace) and hastily dialled Farnsworth's number. He didn’t actually know Farnsworth's number, or even if the gentleman had a phone; come to think of it, neither would likely have reception on the station. But, by some impossible odds on par with Double A surviving in Egypt, Farnsworth had a phone, and Chris managed to dial his number.

"Farnsworth!! Farnsworth!!! Are there any other ways out of the cell bay we've been cut off!!!!!!" A particularly violent salvo followed. "What you say!!!!"

"I said, all systems have been alerted to your presence, sir," Farnsworth replied, milling about the control room. "The main entrance seems to be the only way in or out. All other information on your level is restricted."

Farnsorth’s head jerked up as he heard a rapping at the door. "Open up in there! Open up in there!"

"Oh no..."

"There isnt any other way out!!!" Chris calmly notified his companions, before trying to score some kills of his own.

"I died as I lived my IOTs," muttered Arkady, "Railroaded by dipsticks."

"Even I can’t hold them off forever,” shouted Fegelein; "Now what?"

"This is some rescue," said Kaiser, "When you came in here, didn't you have a plan for getting out?"

"Ask pretty-boy over there." He gestured to Chris.

"Well I didnt—" Chris stood helplessly as Kaiser grabbed his rifle, shooting out a chute cover by Fegelein’s legs. This romantic rescue really wasn't going as he'd planned.

"Enemy's over there, sweetheart."

"Somebody has to save our skins," she shot back, firing rounds down the hall as she crossed over to the opposite wall. "Into the garbage chute, flyboy!" She tossed the gun back to Chris before leaping in. Arkady hesitated.

"Get in there!" ordered Fegelein.

"The odour hints at biological—"

"Get in there, you big furry oaf!" he cut off, "I don't care if it smells like Sone's weapons lab!" He gave the first mate a kick. "Get in there, and don't worry about it!" Arkady jumped. "Wonderful girl," Fegelein shouted to Chris, "Either I'm going to antic her, or I'm beginning to like her." Chris eyed his potential competition. "Get in there!" The boy obediently dove across the hall head-first into the chute. Fegelein loosed a few more shots, then dove in himself. The shock troopers, possibly blinded by the smoke but probably just that thick, continued firing down the corridor.

Fegelein landed on a pile of deceptively soft industrial detritus on top of a pool of murky water. "Welcome to hell, Dante," Arkady called where he was fiddling with the door. Kaiser and Chris were on opposite ends of the room, the latter sifting through the rubbish for unknown purposes.

"I'd make some snide remark about our surroundings, but you haven’t seen the Bunker after Happy Hour. Still, let's not waste our time here. Heads up, Arkady." The werewolf moved aside as Fegelein trained his gun on the door.

"No wait!!" called Chris. The blast ricocheted, sending everyone diving for cover as it bounced about like a supercharged pinball. "WOULD YOU FORGET IT I ALREADY TRIED THAT ITS MAGNETICALLY SEALED!!!!!!!!!" Chris hollered.

"Put that thing away, you're gonna get us all killed!" the Princess joined in.

Fegelein knew to pick his battles, so he simply smiled sarcastically. Then he said more seriously: "It won't take them long to figure out what happened to us."

"It could be worse," Kaiser retorted.

A loud howl suddenly echoed through the room. "It's worse," Fegelein stated matter-of-factly.

"Theres something alive in here!!" shouted Chris. A sound followed, like a motorboat at low speed. "Something just moved past my leg!!! LOOK!!!!" He pointed to where a long, tubular shape briefly broke through the surface. "DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!?!"

"No."

Arkady began hyperventilating. "We're in an Imperial garbage dump... Everyone's heard the rumours, of what the Emporer keeps in them..."

"They're just rumours," the Obergruppenführer sighed, "Why would he fill every trash pile with—"

"HENTAI MONSTERS," he continued, incensed, "They wait 'til you least expect it, grab you with their slimy tentacles, and—"

Chris was suddenly pulled under with a raspy growl.

"Kid!" barked Fegelein.

"Chris!" shouted Kaiser.

He began feebly splashing through the water where Chris had stood seconds ago, calling out his name. The boy surfaced abruptly, a thick tentacle wrapped around his throat. "Chris!" called the Princess, "Grab hold of this!" She thrust a nondescript metal beam toward him as Fegelein scrambled to pull him up.

"BLAST HIM WILL YOU MY GUN'S JAMMED!!!!!"

"Where?"

"ANYWHERE!!!!!!!"

Fegelein let go and began firing rapidly into the water around them. Arkady breathlessly muttered a prayer in Russian as he pounded on the door. Just as Chris began to stand up, he was pulled under again. The water soon settled, and an ominous silence descended on the room. Kaiser looked toward Fegelein nervously, who glanced about the room as the sound of shifting machinery emanated around them.

"Chris!" shouted the Princess as the boy shot out of the water, coughing and spluttering. "What happened?!"

"I dont know!!" he shouted back as Fegelein helped him up, "It let go of me and disappeared!!"

There was a metallic groan. "I've got a bad feeling about this," Fegelein muttered. The sound of machinery in motion reverberated through the room as the garbage began to shift.

Chris looked around. "The walls are moving!!!" he shouted.

"Don't just stand there," snapped Kaiser, "Try and brace it with something!" Chris and Fegelein scrambled through the wreckage as Arkady tried to push the wall back with is own hands. "Help me!" called the princess, fiddling with what looked like a steel axle. Fegelein lifted the beam, positioning it between the shrinking walls as Chris tried in vain to stop the closing concrete. The mechanical cacophony began to accelerate in tempo.

"Wait a minute!" said Chris, digging through his pocket for the phone. "Farnsworth!!" he called, "Come in farnsworth!! FARNSWORTH!!!!!!" No reply. "Where could he be????"

Farnsworth's phone was lying abandoned on the console. The shock troopers blasted the lock open and marched inside the control room. "Take over! See to him," said the leader, gesturing to one of the fallen officers. There was a tapping from one of the side room doors. "Look, there!" He and a soldier flanked the archway before opening the door.

"They're madmen!" Farnsworth sputtered, exasperated, "They're heading for the prison level! If you hurry, you might catch them!"

"Follow me," ordered the leader, and the group fell back into formation. Farnsworth stepped forward to watch them leave. The leader nodded to one of the soldiers by the entrance. "You stand guard," he ordered as the rest of the squad marched back down the hall.

Farnsworth picked up his phone. "Come on," he said, and Jenkins shuffled out of the side room. "Oh," he muttered as they encountered the sentry. He looked to Jenkins, then back to the soldier. He stepped forward nonchalantly. "All this excitement has overtaxed the mental constitution of my counterpart here," he explained calmly. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take him down to the pub."

The soldier cocked his head to one side.

"The bar?" he offered.

"Oh," said the soldier with a strong Texan drawl, "Alright." Farnsworth and Jenkins proceeded swiftly out.

Back in the garbage dump, the posse was failing to improve its position. "I died like IOT politics," Arkady sighed, "Two-dimensional." The axle cracked under the pressure, and Fegelein tossed it away with disgust.

"Farnsworth!!" Chris tried again, "Come in Farnsworth!! FARNSWOOORTH!!!" Fegelein tried to boost the Princess higher up the garbage pile. "Where could he be??? FARNSWORTH!!!!!!! FARNSWORTH WILL YOU COME IN!!!!!!!!!"

Farnsworth, meanwhile, glanced out from an alcove toward the Centurion Raptor, guarded by a handful of shock troopers. "They're not here!" he said, puzzled, "Something must have happened to them!" He shuffled over to Jenkins, who stood near a console. "See if they've been captured; hurry!"

The man chirruped in response, dutifully withdrawing a cable and plugging into the port.

"One thing's for sure," noted Fegelein, "We're all going to be a lot thinner." Beneath them, the larger rubble began to crack and snap.

Jenkins blew a few staccatto notes. "Thank goodness they haven't found them!" Farnsworth sighed. "Where could they be?" Jenkins whistled. "Check my mobile?" he repeated. "Oh my! I forgot; I turned it off." He quickly withdrew his phone and powered it back on. "Are you there, sir?"

"FARNSWORTH?!?!?!?!?!" shouted Chris, walls two metres and closing.

"We've had some problems," the gentleman began, before being cut off.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!!!! SHUT DOWN ALL THE GARBAGE SMASHERS ON THE DETENTION LEVEL WILL YOU!!!!!!!" Fegelein and the Princess feebly attempted to brace the walls with their legs. "DO YOU COPY???? SHUT DOWN ALL THE GARBAGE SMASHERS ON THE DETENTION LEVEL!!!!!!!!!!"

"No, shut them all down!" cried Farnsworth, tremoring, "Hurry!!"

Jenkins got to work. The walls were less than a metre apart, cracks and pops uttering in constant succession. The man rapidly typed in his calculations. Abruptly, the engines shut off and the walls halted their advance with a thud. Fegelein let out a triumphant yell. "WHAT!!" shouted Chris, before breaking into laughter. The quartet began shouting over one another.

"Listen to them!" Farnsworth wailed, "They're dying, Jenkins! Curse my privileged upbringing; I wasn't fast enough! It's all my fault! My poor master–!"

"We're all right!!" Chris cut in, "You did great!!!!!" Farnsworth straightened up. Fegelein and the Princess hugged each other tightly, out of Chris' sight. "Hey, open the pressure maintenance hatch on unit number... where are we?.. 3263827!"

Elsewhere in the station, Alec Guinness trode softly down the hall. He ducked into a corridor that led to a guardrail-less catwalk. He carefully manoeuvred across a thin bridge barely wide enough for one foot, gripping the sides of the octagonal pillar housing the tractor beam controls like a mountain climber scaling K-2. He glanced down at the seemingly-bottomless pit below. It was so utterly predictable that the Emporer' capitalist convictions would condone such ludicrous cost-cutting measures. The whole station was a deathtrap at the best of times; he shuddered to think how many lives would be lost in preventable accidents should there be an emergency.

Shuddered metaphorically, that is. He was, after all, presently on one such deathtrap.

As a small team of shock troopers passed by oblivious a little ways off, Alec Guinness began pulling levers on separate-but-identical consoles on his side of the pillar. The gauges above faded to neutral as their portion of the tractor beam disengaged.

Outside the garbage room, the group tidied itself up. Chris and Fegelein had discarded the shock trooper uniforms which, while of little value in combat, had done a commendable job of keeping their clothes dry. "If we just avoid any more female advice," Fegelein teased, "We ought to be able to get out of here."

"Well lets get moving!!" said Chris.

There was a howl from the garbage room. "God damn it!" shouted Arkady, leaping away from the door frame.

"Where are you going?" cried Fegelein. He sighed, turning around and drawing his gun.

"No wait! They'll hear!" barked Kaiser. He ignored her and fired into the chamber. Exasperated, the Princess rolled her eyes.

"C'mere, you big coward!" he called to the first mate, who was now five or six metres down the hall. Arkady shook his head rigorously back and forth. "And you call yourself a soldier!"

"Listen," said Kaiser, softly but sternly, "I don't know who you are, or where you came from. But from now on, you do as I tell you. 'Kay?" Smiling mirthlessly, she set off down the hall, the other men quickly following.

"You must not know how this works," Fegelein replied with equal sarcasm. "I take orders from only one person: the Master of Antics. Otherwise known as me."

"It's a wonder you're still alive." She pushed past Arkady. "Will somebody get this big walking carpet out of my way?"

"Charming woman, isn't she?" muttered the werewolf.

Chris pondered in silence. This romantic rescue reeeeeeally wasn't going as he'd planned.

Alec Guinness continued his stealthy sabotage as a small squadron of shock troopers passed through the walkway. The leader abruptly threw his hand up and they stumbled into one another, one almost knocking his comrade off the ledge. "Jesus goddamn—!" he sputtered.

"Give me regular reports, please," ordered the leader, leaving two soldiers behind.

"Wait, where are you going?" one of them called after the group, but nobody answered. "And what report?" he asked his fellow sentry. "Does he want, like, TPS reports? 'Cuz I flunked engineering, so I'd be handing him, like, total crap. I s'pose I could do something analytical, like political theory? How long d'you think he wants it? And what does he mean by 'regular'?"

Alec Guinness leaned against the console, a dubious expression on his face as he listened to the chatter.

"The hell if I know," muttered the other soldier. "Y'know, when I was attached to F-wing, our squad leader used to drop impromptu rap battles on us all the time. It was OK for the first couple of weeks, but once he thought we'd got a feel for it, the punishment for losing got downright scary. I swear, I took a crash course in ebonics so fast I think I lost a chunk of my brain in the process."

By now, Alec Guinness had manoeuvred back over to the walkway and quietly slipped away from the conversing troopers. He thought he'd need a distraction, but it seemed the Farce had been exerting a strong influence over the station's operation for quite some time.

"There she is," said Fegelein, looking through a port and into the hanger.

"Farnsworth do you copy???"

"Pipe down, kid," growled Arkady, "We're in the home stretch and I don't want to run into Murphy."

"Yes, sir," replied the gentleman.

"Are you safe???" Chris shout-whispered.

"For the moment. We're in the main hangar across from the ship." He glanced over to where a group of soldiers were playing hackey-sack.

"We're right above you stand by!!!!"

"You came in that thing?" asked an incredulous Kaiser, grabbing Fegelein's arm. "You're braver than I thought!"

"I think you'll find the interior even more impressive," replied the Obergruppenführer, flashing a victorious smirk in Chris' direction. The boy's nostrils flared. "C'mon."

They proceeded quickly down the hallway. As they rounded a corner, they came face-to-face with a squad of shock troopers. "It's them! Blast 'em!"

Eager to make up for the fumble at the cantina, Fegelein blasted a trooper instead. They spun around and fled down the hall, the German giving hot pursuit. "See you on the ship," he called as Arkady hurried after him.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING COME BACK!!!!!" shouted Chris, but to no avail.

"He certainly has courage," muttered the princess.

"oh thats nothing, I'll brake a treaty right after its signed and then nuke my enemies ass!!!!"

Kaiser looked at him dubiously. Chris gave a nervous grin, then grabbed her wrist and bolted down the opposite hall.

Fegelein chased the soldiers into a hangar bay, where he was met with a full platoon. "Hey guys, I've got a riddle: How many Imperial knuckleheads does it take to catch one devilishly handsome anticologist?"

"One?"

The soldier fell backwards with a PEESHAOW!. "Try again."

Arkady rounded a corner and stopped short as laser blasts flew down the hall. Fegelein quickly followed. "Don't worry, I saved some for you," he said as he darted past.

"Give me strength," sighed the werewolf as they ran back down from whence they came.

Chris, meanwhile, had thought he too could take on a group by himself, only to find they weren't gonna let him peace out. Unable to quit his nation, he resorted to Plan B: run for his life. "Whoop!" he cried as he nearly ran right into one of the station's arbitrary bottomless pits. Kaiser hastily pulled him back before he toppled over the side. "I think we took a worng turn!"_{worng turn!} Before he could ask who was there with them, the shock troopers caught up. Chris began firing wildly before Kaiser shut the door.

"There's no lock!" _lock!

Chris swung Kaiser to his left side before shooting out the control panel. "That oughta hold them for a while."

"Quick," she said, "We've got to get across." _cross. "Find the controls to extend the bridge." _{the bridge.}

"...I think I just blated it." _{blated it.} "Hey, who's there?" _{who's there?} "I can here you!" _{here you!} "Shut up!!!" _{Shut up!!!} "No you!!!!!!!" _{No you!!!!!!!}

"They're coming through!" _{ming through!} the princess urgently reminded him.

Chris looked around, then up, where some end pipes were dangling conspicuously. Maybe that sudden musical chord was trying to tell him he should use them? A weapon blast narrowly missed his waist. Kaiser took cover behind the wall as Chris grasped his gun's grip with both hands. It was time to prove himself! Striking what he hoped was a heroic pose, he shot at the trooper on a landing above before quickly ducking for cover. After about 22 tries, he struck the soldier in the shoulder, sending him falling over the edge with an "AaaAAIIaagh—!"

"Here, hold this," he said, passing the gun off to Kaiser as he fiddled with his belt. Another trooper appeared and Kaiser provided covering fire, knocking him out in seconds. Chris struggled to retrieve his grappling hook as the princess fought off a fire team. As she claimed her eighth kill, Chris at last got his grapple out to length.

"Here they come!" noted Kaiser as the door behind them slowly inched its way open. She took out another patrol as Chris threw the cable. It managed to catch on the first try, and he quickly pulled it taut. Kaiser held onto the boy for dear life, giving him a peck on the cheek. He looked at her. "For luck," she explained. His pupils dilated and a wide grin spread across his face. She immediately regretted her decision, but before she could reconsider, Chris pushed off from the landing and sailed over to the other side. The shock troopers tried to shoot at them from under the door. Kaiser gave one final parting shot as Chris disengaged the grapple, and they sped down the corridor.

Another nondescript contingent jogged down a hall. "We think they may be... splitting up, we think they may be on levels 5 and 6 now."

"Splitting up? But Jerome said he saw the chick kiss that kid!"

"Was it hot?"

"I dunno, he got shot before he could say."

"Would you two shut up?!"

Alec Guinness emerged from the shadows as they passed. Glancing down the hall, he withdrew his plasma foil.

Meanwhile, Farnsworth peered out from his hiding spot. Those soldiers were utter rubbish at hackey-sack. "Where could they be?" he wondered aloud. Jenkins gave a short trillup.

Fegelein and Arkady were en route on the double. "Close the blast doors!" shouted one of the pursuing troopers. Fegelein slowed down a bit, returning shots before slipping through the contracting portal. "Open the blast doors, open the blast doors!" shouted another soldier before the platoon ploughed straight into them.

Alec Guinness slowed his pacing. Ahead of him stood Darth Lackarse, neon red plasma foil engaged and at the ready. He slowly made his way over to the man, who fired up his own foil, a poetic blue hue. "I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, ALEC GUINNESS; WE MEET AGAIN AT LAST." The two men stood en garde. "THE CIRCLE IS NOW COMPLETE: WHEN I LEFT YOU, I WAS BUT THE LEARNER. NOW I AM THE MASTER."

"Only a master of disappointment, Lackarse!"

Alec Guinness pressed forward, attempting a downward left swing, but Lackarse parried before making a strike at Alec Guinness' legs. Blocked, he tried for Alec Guinness' shoulder, but their blades collided near the hilts. Alec Guinness retreated backward before launching a new offensive, but was countered by mirror swings by the Dork Lord. Blades locked together again, Lackarse forced Alec Guinness backwards before breaking free, swinging wildly and slicing into the wall of the corridor. Alec Guinness chopped forward, circling around until they were even again.

"YOUR FANBASE IS WEAK, OLD MAN."

"You can't win, Lackarse," Alec Guinness replied, keeping his blade floating to keep Lackarse on his toes, "If you strike me down, I shall accrue more star power than you can possibly imagine."

Alec Guinness feigned to the lower left, then swung up and to the right. Lackarse only narrowly caught the attack. Alec Guinness tried to press his advantage, but he was blocked too high up the blade and couldn't maintain the leverage. He pulled out, and once again they stood off.

"YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE COME BACK."

Lackarse made a sharp lateral cut that was intercepted. He launched into a salvo of short swings, but Alec Guinness managed to block blow for blow. Meanwhile, Fegelein and Arkady arrived at an entrance to the hangar. He sniffed dismissively as he caught sight of the guards. "We've had no shortage of volunteers today, have we?"

"They've been most sporting, sir."

The princess quickly ran up to their side, Chris in tow, still slightly dazed from the kiss. Maybe he could salvage this romantic rescue after all...

"What kept you?" asked Fegelein.

"We, uh, ran into some old friends," Kaiser explained.

"Is the ship alright??????" asked Chris.

"Seems OK, if we can get to it. Just hope the old man got the tractor beam out of commission."

Alec Guinness' duel with Lackarse had moved into sight of the hangar. The Dork Lord made forward jabs, pushing Alec Guinness into retreat. After a split second of draw, Lackarse launched into another series of quick attacks, but Alec Guinness parried, then charged. Lackarse feinted left, and soon enough they were facing off again from the opposite side. The shock troopers, catching sight, left the hackey-sack and made their way over.

"Look!" exclaimed Chris.

"Shh!" hissed Akardy.

"Come on, Jenkins, we're going," said Farnsworth, and the gentlemen cautiously crept toward the Raptor.

"Now's our chance; go," ordered Fegelein. They rushed toward the ship, but Chris noticed the duel and broke off.

"Ali-G??" he murmured. Fegelein immediately tensed.

Alec Guinness took that moment to turn his head. His eyes met with a worried Chris'. He turned back to Lackarse, grinning. Closing his eyes, he lifted his blade. Lackarse took a moment, then swung laterally. The top of Alec Guinness' plasma foil sliced off, while his brown robe tumbled straight down as though his body had never been there at all.

"NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The shock troopers spun around and began shooting wildly. Fegelein, exasperated, rolled his head before taking aim. Chris simply stood, dumbfounded, as shots whizzed around him. When reality returned, he raised his gun and started furiously shooting at anyone he could see. Lackarse tentatively tested Alec Guinness' robe with his foot, as though expecting him to suddenly rise up from a hidden compartment.

"Come ON!" barked Fegelein, finally losing patience as he lay down suppressing fire.

"Chris, come on!" shouted Kaiser. "Come on!" she repeated, but he seemed to be deaf. "Chris, it's too late!" He snapped out of his bloodlust with a start.

"Make yourself useful and blast the door," called Fegelein. Chris shot out the controls, and the doors sealed shut just as Lackarse and a contingent of shock troopers began advancing on the hangar. This was followed by a series of clangs and trooper-shaped impressions in the door panels. Fed up, Fegelein boarded the ship with Kaiser in advance as Chris continued blasting troopers.

"Run, Chris! Run!"

It was like an echo-y voice of Alec Guinness. Chris looked around in confusion, then bolted for the ship.

Arkady was on duty with the controls as Fegelein hurried into the cockpit. "I hope that old man got that tractor beam out of commission, or this could be a real short trip. OK, hit it." The engines powered on and the Centurion Raptor lifted off from the hangar bay. It turned itself around and accelerated into space.

"I'll admit: not the worst trip we've had," Arkady remarked. Fegelein stared intensely at the controls. "You wish it was the kid in place of the old man?"

Chris leaned over the strategic simulation table in the passenger quarters, a forlorn expression on his face. Farnsworth and Jenkins sat across from him in reverent silence. Princess Kaiser approached the table and draped a blanket over the boy's shoulders before sitting beside him.

Meanwhile in the cockpit, Fegelein sat up. "We're coming up on the sentry ships. Hold 'em off; angle the deflector shield while I charge up the main guns."

"Aye, sir."

"I cant beleve he's gone," Chris muttered meekly.

"There wasn't anything you could do," Kaiser offered. They looked up as Fegelein hurried into the room.

"I don't suppose either of you two gentlemen have experience with light ship batteries?"

Chris leaped to his feet. "I'll do it!!"

"Look, kid," the Obergruppenführer smiled wanly, "I deal with rage incarnate on a daily basis. I know you're itching for revenge right now, but trust me—"

"No i can do it i prmoise!!!!! we will avnge Ali-G!!!!!!"

Fegelein opened his mouth to retort. But as he stared into the boy's face, he conceded that some people just weren't born emotionally stable. Sighing, he motioned for Chris to follow. Kaiser joined Arkady in the cockpit while Chris and Fegelein manned the bottom and top turrets respectively. The controls resembled a video game console attached to a plane's steering wheel. They sat down in high-backed, omnidirectional chairs and put on headsets. "You in, kid?" tested Fegelein. "OK, stay sharp." The proximity warning began to chime; Kaiser looked about the canopy as the Raptor shook lightly. A crude wireframe model of the Kite Flyers appeared on the turret controls.

"Here they come," reported the princess.

A wing of four fighters charged the Raptor head-on, breaking formation at the last second. As they circled around, they began strafing the ship; the lights in the passenger quarters briefly browned out, and Jenkins gave an indignant squawk. The gunners trained fire on the fighters as they flew by to regroup. Chris jostled left and right as he tried to get a lock. "Their coming in to fast!!!" he whined.

Farnsworth tried to make his way down the corridor just as the ship was rocked by another salvo, sending him crashing into the wall as smoke billowed from a damaged module. "We've lost lateral controls," Kaiser reported.

"Don't worry," replied Fegelein, "She'll hold together."

Arkady's head jerked up as a panel down the hall began to crackle.

"Hear me, baby? Hold together."

Jenkins rushed down the hall with a fire extinguisher to douse the burning panel. A fighter made another pass, evading the shots from both turrets. You know, I bet this whole episode would be even more exciting if we could actually hear what's happening out in space, but for now we'll just have to make-believe. Anyway, an unlucky fighter tried a head-on attack and was blown to bits by Fegelein. Sensing a score disparity, Chris redoubled his efforts, applying a vise grip to the trigger as a ship entered range; it was soon destroyed, but it took him a few seconds to release the fire button.

"I got him!!! I got him!!!!!"

"Great, kid!" Fegelein shouted from his perch, "Don't get cocky."

"There's still two more of them out there," Kaiser noted.

Fegelein adjusted his headset. They made concentric passes, dipping in and out of both gunners' fire arcs.

...OK, seriously, I wasn't expecting this. I'm actually getting a bit dizzy.

Gimme a sec.

...

...

Better.

One fighter made the boneheaded move to attack the Raptor's hull head-on. Chris mashed the buttons, but the shots were just a little too low. He tried again and blew it up, this time remembering to release the trigger. The last craft made the same charge at Fegelein. He locked on... and was glad that one hadn't come any closer. It blew apart in an explosion worthy of a suicide ship; either ordnance was running out of storage, or somebody was drinking and flying. He let out a contented sigh.

"Thats it!!! we did it!!!!" shouted Chris.

"We did it!" exclaimed Kaiser, leaping from her chair and hugging Arkady.

"So, not a walking carpet?" he smirked.

"Help!" cried Farnsworth, who was inexplicably tangled in electrical wires. "It's Hong Kong all over again! This is all your fault!" Jenkins whistled in what could best be called a tongue-in-cheek tone.

The Raptor sailed on.

Darth Lackarse arrived at George's side. "Are they away?" the Grand Mopp asked distractedly, trying to pry open the toy capsule from his Kinder Surprise.

"THEY HAVE JUST MADE THE JUMP INTO HYPERSPACE."

"You're sure the homing beacon is secure aboard their ship? I'm taking an awful risk, Lackarse... This had bet—OW!" he shrieked, followed by a sharp falsetto tremolo. "Ah, FFFFF— Ahhah! Ah, I broke my nail!"

"You've got to admit," said Fegelein, pulling off work gloves that had mysteriously materialized on his hands, "Given the company I have to work with, that wasn't a bad rescue."

"I shall assume the hint of disparagement was not directed towards me," Arkady commented before leaving the cockpit.

"If we discount that Alec Guinness was killed in the attempt, then maybe," the princess replied as Fegelein took his first mate's seat.

"Can't say I didn't try to talk him out of it," he muttered defensively. "Odd way to go, though. It almost looked like suicide..."

"Well don't think the Empire's given up on us."

"What do you mean?"

"They're tracking us," she grinned mirthlessly, "It's the only explanation for the ease of our escape."

"Not this ship, Fraulein."

Kaiser sighed, knowing further debate was pointless. "At least the gentleman still has the information intact..."

"What's so important about what he's carrying, anyway?"

"It's the technical readouts of that battle station," she replied. With a forlorn look, she shook her head. "I only hope that when the data's analyzed a weakness can be found. It's not over yet."

"It is for me." Kaiser started to object but the officer quickly cut her off. "Don't get me wrong, ordinarily I'd be more than happy to throw a shoe into the Imperial gears, but right now I've got more personal problems taking precedence. The only reason we're out here is because pretty-boy promised El Dorado."

"You needn't worry about your reward," she said, stiffly; "If money is all that you love, then that's what you'll receive." The princess quickly rose from the chair, nearly colliding with Chris at the entranceway. "Your friend is quite a mercenary," she said, more to Fegelein than the boy; "I wonder if he really cares about anything... or anybody."

Chris watched her storm off. "I care!" he called, two seconds too late. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, then took Kaiser's place in the pilot's seat. "So...... what do you think of her?"

Fegelein rolled his eyes. "I'm trying not to, kid."

"Good," he said softly.

Fegelein looked over to Chris, who was doing a terrible job of suppressing his thoughts. "Still," he began, "She's got spirit..." Chris looked up, but not at anything in particular.

Fegelein was about to continue when Chris started suddenly: "Do you think a princess and a guy like me—"

"No," he said simply. Chris sat there, mouth hanging open mid-sentence. Fegelein arched an eyebrow, daring Chris to continue. The boy looked away, and the officer returned to the controls, grinning inwardly.

The Raptor exited hyperspace in the vicinity of an iron-red gas giant. Cruising to the planet's far side, an Earth-like moon appeared. Hundreds of websites had spring up in anticipation of Doomsday 2012, and their subsequent vacancy provided the Resistance with no shortage of secret bases. The ship began its descent into the atmosphere, and within half an hour was skimming over rainforest canopies. They eventually caught sight of Mayan-style ruins demarcating the main base and prepared to land; in a guard tower a few hundred metres away, a sentry shook his head. "Tell 'em a rebellion's on and they plum forget all about the law," he muttered, reading the number on his radar gun.

The posse was met by a group of soldiers who shuttled them to the hangar entrance. Chris stared up in wonder at the pyramid-like edifice. "Gotta hand it to cultists," muttered Arkady, "When it comes to presentation, they spare no expense." Inside, pilots and technicians were in constant motion, what looked like the entire fleet ready to move out at a moment's notice. Their shuttle halted and the group disembarked; Kaiser's face lit up as she made her way over to a bearded general officer.

"Thank God, you're safe!" he cried, and the two embraced. "When we heard about Doctor Who, we feared the worst..."

"There will be a time and a place for our sorrows, General," Kaiser said, resuming a serious demeanour. She led him over to where Farnsworth and Jenkins had dismounted from a second shuttle; the rest of the group was compelled to follow. "You must use the information guarded by this gentleman to help plan the attack. It's our only hope."

"General Nikos Stavros," the officer introduced himself, shaking each of their hands in turn, "Second-in-command of this determined band of freedom-fighters." When he reached Fegelein, he hesitated.

"Hermann Fegelein," said the Obergruppenführer, unfazed, "The pilot that pulled your princess out of that imperial prison." Stavros nodded, and took his hand.

"Were you followed?"

"They bugged the ship, but I took care of it before we left."

"o that reminds me," Chris jutted in. He delved into his robes and withdrew a black box. "I saw it lying by the ramp, you must have forgotten it. I didnt have time to pick it up so i kicked it back on board, but I checked and it doesnt seem broken."

The entire hangar fell silent. Arkady made a squeak bordering on ultrasonic.

"Don't everyone thank me at once," Chris grinned coyly.

Stavros grabbed his radio. "Ready all pilots for combat."

---

Opposite the moon, the Doom Sphere propelled itself, somehow, toward the planet. The intercom buzzed in George's office, breaking him out of his fantasy of the day. After flailing about wildly, he managed to hit the speaker button. "Ey-ye-e-e-e-es?" he uttered. Lackarse stood by stoically.

"We are approaching survive2012now.com. The Resistance base is on a moon on the far side. We are preparing to navigate the website."

"Oh, Princess!" George sighed, cradling an imaginary photo, "Soon we will be reunited at last!" Lackarse considered telling him the speaker was still on, but figured it wouldn't make a difference either way.

Meanwhile, on said moon, a sentry gazed across the canopy. The sun was setting, and a mist had descended on the for—wait a minute, if the moon's on the planet's far side, shouldn't it be night already? Give me a minute to check this.

...

...

Uh oh, bananas are going spotty. Should make some muffins or something.

...

OK, no, from the shadow they were both facing the sun. Disaster averted.

Now where were we?

Just about the entire fighter corps of the base was packed into a small conference room. Standing in front of a wall-sized display screen were Princess Kaiser, Stavros, and the Resistance commander, General Gunter von Esling, as well as a couple of other Allied moderators and a handful of guards. Chris sat among the pilots, at the end of one of the rows next to a young and dashing man named Omega124, who was such a great pilot that he'd probably get a whole series of books written about his adventures. Farnsworth and Jenkins stood a little behind; the taller man noted that there were quite a few short gentlemen standing about the periphery, dressed in what looked like Soviet tank crew uniforms. Fegelein and Arkady were at the very back, watching over the proceedings.

"The battle station is heavily shielded, and carries a firepower greater than half the starfleet," von Esling described, as a three-dimensional model of the Doom Sphere appeared behind him. "Its defences are designed around a direct, large-scale assault; strange as it may sound, a small one-man fighter should be able to penetrate the outer defence." Arkady looked to Fegelein with his Idea Face, but the officer made a dismissive gesture.

"Pardon me for asking, sir," interjected one of the pilots, "But what good are stunt fighters going to be against that?"

"Well, given that the Empire has been phasing out air tactics from its rulesets, it doesn't consider a small one-man fighter to be any threat; hence the lack of a tighter defence." He stepped back as the display changed to an opening somewhere on the Doom Sphere's surface. "An analysis of the plans provided by Princess Kaiser has identified a weakness in the battle station. Due to... what can only be the result of egregiously poor planning, a small thermal exhaust port in the northern hemisphere of the starboard side leads straight to the station's main reactor. The proper ordnance delivered down the shaft will critically overload the reactor and destroy the station. But, the approach will not be easy." The model zoomed out, beginning a simulated flight along the superstructure. "You must manoeuvre straight down this trench, and skim the surface to this point. The target area is only two metres wide."

There was much muttering and shaking of heads at this statement. "It's a trap," scoffed Omega. "Designed by the Emporer himself precisely to trick us into a suicide run."

"Its not impossible," Chris replied, "i became the supowerpoer in multipolarity and then kicked democratic china's ass even though everyone hated me!"

"Yeah, I heard about that game," he retorted, "Didn't the GM hold your hand through the whole thing?"

Chris glared indignantly.

"...Then man your ships," von Esling finished, "And may the Farce be with you."

Onboard the Doom Sphere, George and Lackarse observed a large display screen depicting the station's progress toward its objective. "Orbiting the planet at maximum velocity," reported the intercom, "The moon with the rebel base will be in range in thirty minutes."

"THIS WILL BE A DAY LONG REMEMBERED," said Lackarse. "IT HAS SEEN THE END OF ALEC GUINNESS, AND WILL SOON SEE THE END OF THE RESISTANCE." George cast a furtive glance backward. Lackarse was acting as if he'd done all the work.

Back on the moon, "All flight crews man your stations" echoed over the intercom. Chris, Farnsworth and Jenkins rounded a corner, the boy dressed in pilot's gear. He saw Arkady and Fegelein loading large crates onto a trolley and made his way over.

"So," he began, "you got your reward and your just leaving then??"

"No pulling the wool over your eyes, is there, Sherlock?" the officer replied. "I've got some old debts to pay off with this. Even if I didn't, you don't think I'd be fool enough to stick around here, do you?" He took a moment to calculate Chris' survivability, cost-of-maintenance, and highest general value in an antic, then said, "Why don't you come with us? You're pretty good—" *snnnk* "—'scuse me—in a fight... We could use you."

Arkady looked up with a bemused smirk.

"C'mon!" said the kid, "Why dont you take a look around you know whats about to happen what they're up against!! They could use a good pilot like you your turning your back on them!!!"

"Myself, I've never seen the practicality of martyrdom. Besides, attacking that battle station isn't my idea of courage. More like suicide."

"Alright. Well take care of yourself fegelein. i guess its what you're best at isn't it!!" Chris stormed off.

"Hey, Chris," Fegelein called, and the boy spun around angrily. "May the Farce be with you."

He stood in silence for a moment, then continued down the hangar.

"You know," Arkady piped up, "You could just tell him."

"I know what I'm doing," he replied. "God knows what'd happen if he grew dependent on us." He peered across the hangar. "Hey, Arkady, that man over there; does he look familiar to you?"

The werewolf followed his gaze. "Can't say I recognize him."

"I've seen him before. Just a minute..." Arkady watched quizzically as Fegelein abruptly made off, shrugged, and returned to loading the cart.

Farnsworth finally figured out the purpose of all the short gentlemen. The Allies' fighters contained crawlspaces with controls for all the ship's components. The pilots flew, and the gentlemen worked as onboard mechanics. He could see a few being lifted into the narrow entry hatches just behind the cockpit; these were capped by small domes, presumably windows to operate the small pair of Canadarms affixed close by for external repairs. Conceptually it was a rather clever idea, but he did not envy Jenkins' aptitude for such a role.

He and Chris came upon Kaiser, accompanied by General Stavros and a group of guards. "What's wrong?" asked the princess.

"Oh, it's Fegelein," he explained. "I dont know, I really thought he'd change his mind!!"

Kaiser shook her head. "He's going to follow his own path, like it or not. No-one can choose it for him."

"I only wish Ali-G were here."

Kaiser weighed her options, then, somewhat hesitantly, leaned in and pecked Chris' cheek. He looked up, eyes widening; she quickly walked off followed by the retinue, Stavros eyeing him dubiously. Chris continued through the hangar, a dumb smile plastered on his face. Right before he walked into the laser cannon on the underside of a fighter wing, a voice made him turn around.

"So, despite all my wise counsel, you decided to join the mad crusade after all."

"Jehoshua!!!" Chris cried. A pilot resembling Machiavelli, a priest's collar visible beneath his flight suit, made his way over, clapping his arm over the boy's back in a fraternal gesture but that held just the subtlest hint of a power relationship.

Jehoshua gave a sidelong grin as he eyed Chris up and down. "We must be in dire straits indeed to have recruited you at such short notice."

"I'll be right up there with you!!" the boy beamed. "Have I got stories to tell you—!"

"New kid; christos, right?" They both turned around to face the veteran wing leader, a gold-coloured helmet held under his arm. He sauntered over, looking up at the fighter before turning back to the boy, bemused. "You sure you can handle this ship?"

Jehoshua spoke up. "Sir, I can speak from experience. christos200 has proven a valuable tool given the right handler." He flashed another wicked grin, returned by the leader.

"You'll do alright," he concluded, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I wont let you down I promise!!"

The squad leader headed down the hangar. "Well," said Jeho, "I must to my own ship. You can talk my ear off about all your escapades when we return."

"Hey Jehoshua!" Chris shouted, and he turned back. "I told you i'd make it some day!!" Jeho gave a polite smile, then quickly departed. Chris made his way over to his fighter. A flight crew was helping Jenkins into the ship's tiny auxiliary compartment. As Chris clambered up the ladder into the cockpit, a technician addressed him.

"This gentleman of yours seems a bit beat up," he remarked, "You want a new one?"

"ok."

"Hah! I'm just messin' with ya. We don't treat people like chattel! Which planet are you from? Greece?" Jenkins gave a short whistle. "Oh–!" he choked, grinning even wider. Chris scowled as he boarded the fighter.

"Gold Squadron, begin take-off procedure," announced the P.A.

"Hold on tight, Jenkins!" called Farnsworth, "You've got to come back!" His counterpart gave a little trill. "You wouldn't want my life to get boring, would you?" Jenkins chirruped, flashing what looked like a smile before he disappeared into the machinery and a transparent dome sealed atop the manhole.

Elsewhere in the hangar, the squad leader tracked down a pilot bearing an uncanny resemblance to Jonathan Goldsmith. "Parkins, you never told us you were an ace!"

"Well I—wait, what?" he asked, confounded.

"I know we'd had you on reserve, but a pilot of your calibre is exactly what we need for this offensive!"

"Ace? What?" he repeated, confused and increasingly frightened.

"I've swapped you in for Qiu; you'll be flying in my squad. See you in the air, champ!" The squad leader grinned, then made off for his own fighter, leaving a trembling Tyo.

Shuttles rolled through the hangar, pilots leaping off to board their strike craft. The P.A. said something, but I missed it. Engines revved and flight crews hastily withdrew their equipment as the pilots donned their crash helmets and sealed the cockpits. "Fifteen seconds to take-off." The air was rife with anxiety; a few straggling technicians scrambled out of the way as the ships slowly lifted off, ground navigators directing their path out of the complex.

"Chris, the Farce will be with you." Chris spun his head right to left, searching for the phantom. It sounded uncannily like Ali-G...

A melodic passage started up as the fighters left the hangar and oriented themselves skyward. The tune quickly switched to an anxious march as Kaiser, Farnsworth and an intel officer walked briskly through the communications room to a large circular interface. "Standby alert," buzzed the P.A., "Doom Sphere approaching." A display appeared, showing the planet, their base, the incoming battle station, and its firing arc. "Estimated time to firing range: 15 minutes."

The strike craft crested the planet's horizon and now had visual contact with the station. "All wings, report in," called the fighter leader.

"Red 10, standing by."

"Red 7, standing by."

"Red 3, standing by," said Jehoshua.

"Red 6, standing by," muttered Tyo.

"Red 9, standing by."

"Red 2, standing by," Omega reported.

"Red 11, standing by."

"Red 5 standing by," said Chris.

"Lock S-foils in attack position," ordered the leader, once all craft had checked in.

The wings on the fighters split open into four separate foils, each mounting a long laser cannon; this provided the origin of the ships' nickname of 'X-wing'. As the squadron approached the Doom Sphere, the craft began to shake violently. "We're passing through the magnetic field," advised Red 1, "Hold tight; switch your deflectors on, double front."

The ships were now close enough to make out some of the finer details of the station. "Damn," breathed Omega, "Is this a space station, or overflow for the Emporer's ego?"

"Cut the chatter, Red 2," scolded the wing leader; "Decelerate to attack speed." The wing banked to the right, gradually levelling off. "This is it, boys."

"Red 1, this is Gold 1," called the bomber commander.

"I copy, Gold 1."

"We're starting for the target shaft now."

"We're in position. I'm gonna cut across the axis and try to draw their fire."

The music picked up pace as the X-wings dove in. The station's gunners, now actually seeing the incoming craft with their own eyes, hastily opened fire. Despite the massive barrage, not a single shot hit as the abysmal training standard of the shock troopers was scaled proportionately to the Doom Sphere's twin laser turrets.

"Chris, trust your feelings."

Chris tapped his helmet, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't the intercom. Two fighters flew past a turret danger close before pitching up. Back in the comm room, most of the other officers had joined Kaiser around the 'map'. "Heavy fire, boss," Omega reported, "23 degrees."

"I see it; stay low!"

Omega skimmed across the surface, strafing the construct in front and sending one fire team running for cover as their cannon overheated. Chris inhaled sharply, realizing Omega had claimed first blood. "This is Red 5 im going in!!!" He made a steep dive, squeezing the trigger as he blasted the station for everything he was worth.

"christos, pull up!" shouted Jehoshua. The boy gasped, yanking back on the controls as he sailed right through the ensuing explosion. Sparks trailed from his craft as he returned to a safe altitude.

"You know that's a brand new fighter?" asked Jeho, a touch of scorn.

"I got a little cooked back there but im OK," he replied. The fighters zoomed past a now non-functional battery.

"Red 1, this is Gold 1," called the bomber commander, "We're starting our attack run."

"I copy, Gold 1, move into position." A 3-ship wing pitched forward toward the station. The craft had dart-like fuselages with twin engines that connected to the stern and trailed nearly another full length behind. The Y-like shape easily explained their nickname, 'Tuning Forks'.

Meanwhile, onboard the Doom Sphere, klaxons wailed as shock troopers ran this way and that, not entirely sure what they were supposed to be doing. One officer darted down the halls, nervously peering around corners before spying Darth Lackarse, quickly running over to him. The Dork Lord didn't break stride, and the man had to jog to keep by his side. "We count thirty Resistance ships, Lord Lackarse," he panted, "But they're so small they're evading our turbo lasers!"

Lackarse fought hard the urge to head-butt the man, reminding himself that this probably wasn't the officer in charge of gunnery training. "WE'LL HAVE TO DESTROY THEM SHIP-TO-SHIP," he surmised. "GET THE CREWS TO THEIR FIGHTERS." The officer nodded and ran off.

Red Squadron sailed through a dizzying salvo of laser blasts. "Watch yourselves!" called the leader, "There's a lot of fire coming from the right side of that deflection tower."

"I'm on it!!" shouted Chris.

"I'm going in," said Jehoshua. "Cover me, Parkins."

"Oh God," moaned Tyo.

Not waiting for Chris, the two fighters drew level with the tower, delivering a concentrated strike. The offending structure exploded, sending shockwaves through the station, soldiers flying to and fro as sections of the hall ruptured.

Elsewhere, Lackarse located two Imperial pilots in gear. "SEVERAL STRIKE CRAFT HAVE BROKEN OFF FROM THE MAIN GROUP," he stated; "COME WITH ME." He turned about, and they hastily followed after him.

Looking to follow up their success, Jehoshua continued into another fire zone, only for Tyo to find himself caught in a flurry of laser fire. "Oh man, we're in spaceships!" he cried, "I knew it! He cursed me!!"

"You're fine," said Jeho, "Stay on course."

"No way, I'm getting out of here!"

"You can hold it!"

"Screw you, you bastard Papist hypocrite! I wanna li–AAAAIIEGH!! AAUUUGHH!!!" Tyo screamed as his fighter blew apart in a fiery explosion.

The Doom Sphere's progression plodded along the station's counterpart map, which quite frankly looked a grand deal less helpful than the Resistance's. "The Resistance base will be in firing range in seven minutes," reported the intercom. George paid no attention; he was seated on the floor in front of a toy table covered in plastic teacups. This in turn was ringed by stools for his CCP Heroes of the People™ action figures, two of which were currently being jostled up and down in time to his internal dialogue. "Why yes, Comrade Lon Dong! I should love another cup of tea as we celebrate the destruction of these heathen rebels! / I couldn't agree more, Comrade Phat Phuc! Truly ours is the greatest of strategies! Soon all of Europe will worship our master cult—"

Jesus, let's get back to the fighting.

Three Kite Flyers took off from a hangar. In the middle was a special model that actually looked like a ship and not some carpentry experiment; you probably surmised it was Lackarse's personal fighter. "STAY IN ATTACK FORMATION," he said, tweaking his controls.

Back at the Allied base, the intel officer stepped away from a console and adjusted his headset. "Squad leaders, we've picked up a new group of signals. Enemy fighters coming your way."

"My scope's negative I dont see anything!!" said Chris.

"Keep up your visual scanning," ordered Red 1; "Here they come!"

Sixty Kite Flyers in a neat little row descended on the X-wings. "Watch it," called Red 1, "You've got one on your tail!"

The impugned pilot desperately tried to shake him, but it looked as though these fighters might actually be worth a damn. The Kite Flyer closed in fast. "I'm hit!" he cried; seconds later the ship exploded.

"Jeho you picked one up watch it!!" Chris shouted.

He tried to spy it out of his cockpit, but to no avail. "Then make like the Lord and watch over me," he said. Jeho put his ship into a steep dive before banking hard to the right. The enemy fighter kept pace; he began zig-zagging back and forth. "He's on me tight; I can't shake him."

"First I've heard you turning down an encounter," Omega muttered off-radio.

"I'll be right there!!" Chris fell in behind the Kite Flyer. He watched the icon of the offending ship flit back and forth across his AimAssist. As Jeho and the tango levelled out, it fell within the centre of the screen and Chris squeezed the trigger; the Kite Flyer exploded.

The Allied generals circled around the display. "Pull in!" Jeho's voice crackled over the radio, "christos, pull in!"

"Watch your back, Chris," Omega joined in, "Watch your back! Fighter's above you; coming in." Panicking, the boy cast glances to the rear. The Kite Flyer quickly fell in line and opened up a salvo, one shot striking the top left engine.

"I'm hit but not bad," he reported, "Jenkins see what you can do with it." The gentleman chirped, hoisting himself to the dome and deploying a Canadarm. "Hang on back there!!"

"The exhaust port is locked and marked in," called Gold 1. The bombers dodged fire from a single surface turret as they dove into the trench, a lateral barrage opening up as they levelled out. "Switch all power to front deflector screen."

Still trailed by the Kite Flyer, Chris began swerving back and forth, narrowly dodging the fighter's shots. "Red 6," called the leader, "Do you see Red 5?"

"There's a heavy fire zone on this side," crackled Red 10, "Red 5, where are you?"

"I cant shake him!!!" he shouted, providing absolutely no help to his would-be rescuers. He dove toward the station surface, but the fighter kept on him.

"I'm on him, Chris," called Omega, spying the fighters and peeling off toward them, "Hang on!"

"Blast it Jeho where are you??" the boy muttered.

Just as the Kite Flyer lined up the shot, an X-wing assaulted head-on. The ship exploded while the Allied craft corkscrewed triumphant. "Thanks Megs," sighed Chris.

"Hey, no," Omega called, "You gotta earn that privilege."

"Good shooting, Megs," Jeho called.

Meanwhile, the twin-linked turrets continued their suppressive fire as the bombers swerved up and down the trench. "How many guns do you think, Gold 5?" asked the squad leader.

"I'd say about twenty guns," he replied, "Some on the surface, some on the towers."

"The Doom Sphere will be in range in five minutes," buzzed the intercom back on the moon base.

"Switch to targeting computer," ordered the leader, and a tracking aid deployed in front of him.

"Computer's locked," reported Gold 2, "Getting a signal..." Suddenly, the barrage ceased. "The guns; they've stopped!"

"Stabilize your rear deflectors," advised Gold 5, "Watch for enemy fighters!"

"They're coming in!" called the leader, "Three marks at 2:10!"

Lackarse and his escort flew into the trench in perfect formation. "I'LL TAKE THEM MYSELF. COVER ME."

"Yes, sir," copied a pilot.

In seconds they had caught up with the bombers and Lackarse drew a lead on Gold 2. Eschewing the typical gratuitous fanfare of Imperial forces, he squeezed the triggers and blew the ship apart. Gold 1 cast a nervous glance behind as the fighters quickly closed the distance. "It's no good! I can't manouevre!"

"Stay on target," ordered Gold 5.

"We're too close!"

"Stay on target,"

"Loosen up!"

But it was too late; Lackarse aimed instead for the lead bomber, it too quickly exploding under a short salvo. Gold 5 pulled out immediately, but the fighters kept right on his tail. "Gold 5 to Red 1," he stammered, and Chris glanced down below, "Lost Kyril; lost Hutch..."

"I copy, Gold 5."

"It came from behind!"

Lackarse strafed the bomber, blowing off its port engine and sending it spiralling into the station. Chris swallowed, facing forward.

"All units, this is Red 1," the leader began after a moment, "Rendez-vous at Mark 6-point-1."

Back in the comm room, von Esling nodded to one of the signals analysts before joining the officers around the display screen.

"This is Red 2," Omega's voice crackled over the radio feed, "Flying toward you."

"Red 3," copied Jehoshua, "Standing by."

Von Esling turned on his speaker channel. "Red Squadron, this is Adler. Gold Squadron is rallying at your position but we can't afford to wait. Keep half your group on reserve and make a run yourselves."

"Copy, Adler. Chris, take Red 2 and 3. Hold up here and wait for my signal to start your run." Rather than copy the order, Chris simply nodded his head.

Red 1, supported by Red 10 and 12, dove into the trench. "This is it..!" The fighters raced through the trench, dodging a heavier barrage of laser fire.

"We should be able to see it by now!" called Red 10.

Seconds later the fire ceased. "Keep your eyes open for those fighters..!" ordered the leader.

"There's too much interference," reported Red 10. "Red 5, can you see them from where you are?"

"No sign of any—WAIT!!!" Everyone, in space and the comm room, winced. "Coming in to your, uh, back left!"

"I see them." Lackarse and his escort flew into the trench.

"I'm in range," reported Red 1, activating his computer; 27 000 metres and closing rapidly. "Target's coming up... Just hold 'em off for a few seconds!"

"CLOSE UP FORMATION," ordered Lackarse.

"Almost there..." 18 000 metres and closing.

The Kite Flyers had already caught up. Lackarse opened fire on Red 12, quickly shooting him down.

"You'd better let it loose!" cried Red 10, "They're right behind me!"

"Almost there..." 9000 metres and closing.

"I can't hold 'em!"

One of Lackarse's wingmen took him out.

The computer display fell to 0 and Red 1 deployed a secondary payload. "It's away!" he called, pulling out. He sailed past an explosion that rocked the station violently, throwing personnel from all quadrants down the halls like ragdolls.

"It's a hit?!" called Red 9, while the control crew held its breath.

"Negative, negative. It didn't go in. It just impacted on the surface." Kaiser gave von Esling a forlorn look.

Chris looked down to where Lackarse's fighter was trailing Red 1. The Dork Lord opened fire, scoring a hit on the ship's engine. "Red 1 were right above you! Turn to Point... oh-5, well cover for you!!"

"Stay there!" he replied, "I just lost my starboard engine." Omega, alarmed, peered out of his canopy, searching for the squad leader. Chris's face flashed befuddlement. "Get set up for your attack run!" Lackarse opened up another salvo, but the ship was already on a collision course. Red 1 let out a piercing shout as his fighter dove into the station, exploding in a fiery blast. Chris, bug-eyed and breathing nervously, faced forward.

"Resistance base three minutes and closing," reported the station intercom.

"Jeho, Megs lets close it up," the boy's voice buzzed through the intercom. Von Esling put a hand to Kaiser's shoulder. "Were going in, were going in full throttle!! that oughta keep those fighters off our backs!!!"

"I thought I told you..." started Omega.

"christos," warned Jehoshua, "At that speed and knowing your gung-ho tactics, you probably won't pull out in time."

"thats never stopped me before!!"

"Sadly, this is true."

Da, da da, da da. da da..!

The fighters dove into the trench in the third rendition of this scene. "We will hold back far enough to cover you," said Jeho.

"My scope shows the tower, but I can't see the exhaust port!" reported Omega. "You're sure the computer can hit it?"

"Watch yourself increase speed full throttle!!" Chris barked.

"What about that tower?"

"You worry about those fighters!! Ill worry about the tower!!" Chris shook his head; what would these chumps do without his natural leadership?

The computer display on the Doom Sphere bridge showed the moon cresting survive2012now.com. "Resistance base 1 minute and closing," reported the intercom. George's tea party was interrupted by the arrival of that British officer, who had to kneel down in order to address the Grand Mopp. "We've analyshed their attack, shir," he explained quietly, "And there ish a dainjah. Shall I 'ave yoar ship shtanding boay?"

George's laughter boomed through the room. "Evacuate?" he choked, "In our moment of triumph?" He slowly shook his head left to right condescendingly. "Once we've obliterated these rebels I'm having you court-martialled!" As he turned back to his playset, the officer silently gave the order to abandon ship.

Chris leaned forward as if it would make him go faster, narrowly dodging the incoming laser blasts. "Jenkins that stabilizers borken loose again see if you cant lock it down!!" The gentleman returned to his perch at the dome, whistling as he redeployed a Canadarm. The turrets fired off one more volley before halting; Jeho and Omega looked around nervously.

"Fighers!" called Omega, "Coming in, point-three!" Chris licked his lips, fighting to maintain control of his ship. Redlining didn't seem to help as the Kite Flyers were soon upon the furthest ship. A wingman opened up, striking Omega. "I'm hit!" echoed through the comm room. "Yeah, sorry guys, I think I'm gonna have to pull out."

Jehoshua opened his mouth but Chris cut him off. "Get clear Megs you cant do anymore good back there!"

"Sorry!" he repeated, pulling out of the trench. "You moron," he muttered off-radio.

"LET HIM GO," said Lackarse, "STAY ON THE LEADER."

Jehoshua's rage quickly turned to terror as he realized his head was now on the chopping block, reflected in the evaporation of his normal airs. "Hurry, christos, they're coming in much faster this time, I can't hold them."

^DA da _da DA da _da
^DA da _da DA da _da
^{DA da} da ^DA da _da
^{DA da} da ^DA da _da

"Jenkins try and increase the power!!" the boy thundered.

^DA da ^{da DA} da _da
^DA da ^{da DA} da _da

"Hurry up, christos!" screamed Jeho, "Quick! QUICK!!"

Lackarse got a lock. He squeezed the trigger, and Jehoshua's fighter disintegrated. Back at base, the officers exchanged nervous glances. Cold sweat trickled down Chris' face.

Onboard the Doom Sphere, George was now leaping about like a maniac. "Resistance base thirty seconds and closing," reported the intercom.

"I'M ON THE LEADER," Lackarse stated.

Jenkins chirrupped into the radio as the Kite Flyers soon enough caught up. "Hang on, old sport," muttered Farnsworth. Chris fumbled with his controls before giving up and craning his neck behind the tracking display. 35 000 metres and closing. Lackarse calmly adjusted his controls as he drew in range. Chris toyed with the computer as though it would suddenly grant him a random stats bonus.

DA. DA da. DA da. DA da.
DA. DA da. DA da. DA dadlaDADLADADLA—

Suddenly, a heavenly leitmotif cut in alongside the voice of Alec Guinness. "Use the Farce, Chris!" he called. The boy lashed about right and left, searching for the ghost. "Let go!" He frowned; maybe it didn't want to possess him?

"THE FARCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE," muttered Lackarse as he watched the ship careen back and forth.

"Chris, trust me!" Alec Guinness implored. Figuring the ghost would probably kill him if he didn't comply, Chris reached over and shut off the computer.

"His computer's off," noted an intel officer. "Chris, you switched off your targeting computer. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he said, too quickly and too high-pitched, prompting many operators to look up, "I'm alright!" Kaiser craned her neck back to stare at the ceiling.

Hyperventilating, Chris leaned forward again, ignoring Jenkins' alarmed chirrups as Lackarse got a lock. The gentleman dove for cover as laser fire grazed the top of the fighter. Chris looked down at the flashing light on his dashboard. "I've lost Jenkins!!"

Farnsworth dragged his hands over his face. "The Doom Sphere has cleared the planet," reported the intercom, "The Doom Sphere has cleared the planet." The display showed the station's firing arc dead-centred on the moon. Farnsworth shared a knowing glance with the princess.

"Resistance base in range," reported the Doom Sphere intercom. The display switched to a topographic scan of the moon.

"Fire," cried George, "Fire! FIRE!! UNTIL NOTHING'S LEFT STANDING!!!"

"Commence primary ignition." Technicians scrambled once again as they tried to prime the überfail.

If Chris was frowning any harder, he was liable to pop a blood vessel. Lackarse, for his part, found the fighter stubbornly keeping just below his firing line. He adjusted his controls, waiting for the target to inevitably pull up or dash itself on the station. Just as planned, the fighter faded in to the centre of his reticle. "I HAVE YOU NOW." He pressed both triggers.

But rather than the Resistance fighter, Lackarse's right wingman exploded. Chris gave a nervous glance backward. "WHAT?!" thundered Lackarse, he and his surviving escort looking skyward.

"Honey, I'm home!" Fegelein's voice blazed across all channels, friend and foe alike.

The Kite Flyer pilot, facing forward, found himself careening toward the trench wall. "Look out!" he called as he corrected, striking Lackarse's wing, sending the Dork Lord spiralling into space as he lost control and smashed into the opposite wall.

The Centurion Raptor banked sharply around to rejoin the surviving Resistance wing. "You're all clear, kid," called the Obergruppenführer, "Now let's blow this thing and go home." Chris looked down and saw a button marked with a banana sticker. He pressed it, then pulled the trigger to the auxiliary ammunition. Two banana-shaped projectiles rocketed out from under him, catching on the vent entrance and tumbling down the shaft. He let out a deep breath, angling up sharply before he collided with the superstructure, banking hard to rejoin the fleet.

Onboard the station, a controller pulled a lever while another flipped switches. "Stand by," called the intercom. The Resistance wing, led by Fegelein, fled as fast as its formation would allow from the Doom Sphere. At that very moment, the Grand Mopp interrupted his rabid frenzy... where was that comical 'boing'ing noise coming from? Two crewmen took cover as a beam of pure failure blasted through the tunnel. Similar beams converged at a single point above the dish-like depression on the station's surface.

In one gigantic blast, the Doom Sphere ceased to exist.

It was a very pretty explosion. Here, I brought a metal xylophone to enhance the experience.

"Great shot with those banana bombs," called Fegelein, exchanging a low-five with Arkady, "That was one in a million!"

Chris tried and failed to blink back tears of joy. "Remember," echoed Alec Guinness, "The Farce will be with you. Always."

Elsewhere, Lackarse finally regained control of his maligned fighter, and sailed off into space...

Chris returned to a hangar full of cheering men and women. Hands slapped his back as he descended the staircase. "Chris!" called the princess, running up from under the fighter, "There you are!"

"Kaiser!!" he cried, grabbing her and spinning around.

"This the line for free hugs?" The crowd parted behind them as Fegelein jogged over. Chris ran up and hugged him too.

"I knew youd come back i just knew it!!!!"

"What, and let you get all the credit and take all the reward?" Behind him, Arkady gave a knowing smirk.

"Hey," cried Kaiser, wrapping and arm around the officer's side, "I knew there was more to you than money!"

Their revelry was interrupted by the shout of "Medic!" from a technician above. "Oh no," Chris muttered.

"Oh, Jove!" cried Farnsworth as a stretcher was carefully lowered. Jenkins lay, bloody and unconscious, the broken bottom half of his slide whistle clutched in his hand. "Say something!" he choked. "You can save him, can't you?" he turned to one of the medical staff.

"We'll get to work on him right away."

"You must revive him!" He turned to Chris. "Sir, if any of my organs will help, I'll gladly donate them!"

"He'll be alright," Chris patted him on the shoulder before putting an arm around Kaiser and walking her off. Fegelein shared a sympathetic face before hurrying after them.

---

The following day, Chris sported a fresh change of clothes, a black shirt underneath a mustard yellow faux-leather vest. He beamed at Fegelein, uniform freshly polished, who rolled his eyes, trying to suppress his own smile. Arkady had even dug up an old parade jacket for the occasion. As the fanfare crescendoed, the doors parted and the three men entered a vast atrium. Standing at attention on either side was the entire base personnel. At the far end, Princess Kaiser waited in a simple yet alluring white dress; her hair had been redone, a single bread roll tied in at the back. Fegelein strode forth commandingly, Chris somewhat nervously; halfway down the aisle, Arkady made a pirouette, thrusting a peace sign in the air and shouting "¡Viva la Resistencia!"

As the heroes ascended the main stage, the assembled party turned with military precision to face forward. Chris tried to remain composed as the princess looked over them, but his nerves got the better and he hiccuped, prompting her to break a smile. Fegelein shot her a dashing grin, which she returned. General von Esling stepped up to her side, taking a medal from an aide that he then passed to Kaiser. She proceeded to drape it over Fegelein's neck; the Master of Antics gave her a wink as he straightened up. She then turned to Chris. As she waited for the medal, he gave a glance over to the gentlemen standing along the side; Farnsworth looked better than he had in years, and Jenkins had made a full recovery. The boy leaned forward and Kaiser placed the medal about his neck. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to remind himself not to declare his love for her then and there.

The delegates turned to face the assembled, Arkady muttering "At least I'm a winner on the inside." The hall burst into applause. Hey, wait, he thought, Why the hell didn't all the pilots get a medal? The indefatigable Fegelein looked over to Chris, whose chest rose and fell with the giddiness of a boy who was in the throes of the greatest day of his life. He decided not to mention that the kid's fly was undone.

—DAAAA, da, ^da daaaa, da

DA! ^dada ^dada ^dadododo
Da, DA-, dadado ^deee, do
dadado ^deee, do
DA da DA DOOO,
Da, da DA

Written and Directed by
THORVALD OF LYM

Produced by
COREL^® WORDPERFECT™ 12 & PROBOARDS

Executive Producer
THORVALD OF LYM

Starring
CHRISTOS200 – HERMANN FEGELEIN – PRINCESS BERNÁDETT KAISER

GEORGE I OF CHINA

and
ALEC GUINNESS

with
C. AUBREY FARNSWORTH, Esq., JENKINS APPLEBEE, OBE, ARKADY DMITRAEV,
DAVID PROWSE, JACK PURVIS, KEVIN McNALLY,
JAMES EARL JONES
as the voice of Darth Lackarse

So there you have it! The first in what I've been told is a trilogy that will go down in the annals of fanfiction history as one of the greatest epics ever put to digital distribution. The setting's occasional foul-ups aside, this was a pretty good run, I think, so I'll join you back here for Parte the Seconde as...

Well, I'd be a terrible narrator if I gave away the story, now wouldn't I?

Until next time, may the Farce be with you.