A New Dope Part 6 of 8

CHAPTER SEVEN

 “Excuse me,” said the apparent stormpooper to the tall stormpooper as they came masked-face to masked-face in the slick indirect-lighted hallway.

“Yes?” said the tall stormpooper as he eyed the handcuffed wookie nervously, and with just a glance at the short stormpooper who rounded out the party of three.

“We’re transferring this prisoner to detention level three but I’m kind of new here and I’ve lost my way. Can you tell me how to get to detention level three?”

“Oh. Yeah sure. Um. Turn around. Um. You know what? I’m going that way. Follow me. He then carried on down the hallway while the trio turned and followed him.

MEANWHILE IN THE GREAT INTERNAL BOWLING BALL COLUMN… Opie Wan Kablooey Tin Can Toucan Soupman Can Can Wan Can the Second (and also the first) slipped carefully, quietly and gracefully along a narrow bridge toward a large black Undulation Regulator Fixture on a central pedestal. The drop below fell away for what seemed like a mile.

Ben raised his eyebrows, mouthed a silent whistle and went forth. He edged his way to the great device and pushed a few buttons upon it and then drew down a large lever. Rows of red lights greeted this manoeuvre with a constant synchronized flashing. But it was a silent flashing and one that no other persons were around to see.

MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER HALLWAY… RBC carried on, rolling along the dark shiny floor while CIBC scampered along behind him.

“Where in the blazes are you two going!” said the red-striped BMO model steamdroid who spied them from a tertiary hallway and rushed out to meet them.

“None of your beeswax,” said CIBC haughtily.

“Of course it is my business,” snapped BMO. “I’m the executive robot coordinator of the week! I am in charge of all robot scheduling and my database reveals no reason for you to be here!”

“We’re fetching tea and crumpets for Sgt. Goosestep. It’s an unscheduled task. He’s unexpectedly peckish today.”

“Well this is highly irregular.”

“As is Sargent Goosestep. He's hoping a good cup of tea will loosen his bowels. And for the record, we were not instructed to pause in our mission to jabber with the likes of you!”

“Oh piss off,” said BMO spinning about and rolling swiftly away.

The mechanical duo carried on with CIBC hissing at his dwarven steampunk companion. “You are going to get us in SO much trouble! We must return to the Aluminum Fulcrum at once!”

RBC buzzed and honked and tweeted.

“Don’t you talk to me like that. I just might go back myself then and when Master Fluke inquires I’ll say you flipped your lid and joined the Imperial forces! Yes, see if I don’t!”

But he continued to follow RBC.

MEANWHILE IN AN ELEVATOR SHAFT NEARBY… an Imperial Gopher in brown jumpsuit was leaning against his trash bin picking his nose and eating it.

MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER ELEVATOR SHAFT NEARBY… Fluke, Hand, Chewie and the tall stormpooper were humming along downward toward level D.

“You need to display your pass on level D,” said the tall Pooper whose name was Fritzopholes.

“Okay, thanks for all your help,” said Solo. “We’re good from here. Don’t let us take up any more of your time.”

“No problem,” said Fritz. “Out of the elevator I’m going right, but you go left and you can’t miss the detention block.

“Thanks again.”

“But seriously, you need to display your passes right now. It’s a high level security level. You are authorized right? You have the proper clearance?”

“Of course,” said Solo. “Prisoner relocation is mostly what we do.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

“Hmm?”

Technically I should not have directed us to this level without seeing your ID cards. I need to see them now please.”

“Right. I get it,” said Solo. He reached down into his holster, raised his blaster pistol and shot Fritzopholes right in the brain. Fluke yanked off his Pooper mask and stared in horror at the bloody mess. Dripping, spattered brain matter hung everywhere.

“Jesus, Hand!”

“Boring conversation anyway,” said Solo with a wink at his companions. Chewy just shook his big shaggy head sadly. “Put your mask on kid.”

Fluke did so, muttering, “What the hell are we gonna do with this mess?”

Solo pulled out a pretty purple patrol pad from the pooper’s pants pocket and a pen too. He tore off a page and scribbled a note. He yanked the blaster from the corpse’s holster and arranged it in the pooper’s cold dead hand which he moved up to the body’s shoulder so that the blaster pointed at the corpse’s own head. He dropped the note onto the floor. It read:

I can’t take it any more. I can’t live with myself. I can’t stand being a tool of this evil empire. P.S. Lord Gaydar Is a fag and he raped me.

Solo pondered this. Then picked up the note again and added to the end: when I was seven.

The elevator door opened and the threesome quickly stepped out and made their way leftward down the hall unseen.

MEANWHILE IN SOME OTHER PLACE…

“You there!” came an angry voice from behind the two robots. “You there: halt at once!”

“Oh my stars! muttered CIBC. We’re doomed! We’re screwed!” RBC made a sudden turn and a hatch opened before him which CIBC followed him through. “Hey!” came the stern voice. The hatch shut behind them. They found themselves alone in an octagonal control room full of buttons and screens. RBC immediately plugged his phallic doohickey into a matching port and gave it a spin. The hatch at once locked tight.

“Well here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” said CIBC.

RBC continued to twirl the connection port as he scanned information.

CIBC looked around the room. “Do you think there’s enough room in here to practice?”

RBC whistled in the affirmative and unplugged as CIBC began removing his feet.

MEANWHILE ON DETENTION LEVEL D BLOCK… Solo pressed the doorbell repeatedly and banged his fist on the door.

A voice came over the little speaker box. “If you can’t scan your pass then you need to say the secret password!”

“Look pal,” said Solo, “I’m new here and there’s a problem with my card and nobody gave me the password. I can’t go dicking around with admin right now because I’ve got the wookie of the year in handcuffs and as soon as he realizes he’s strong enough to break out of them we’re all as fucked as fuck!”

There was no immediate response but they could just barely hear a conversation going on inside the room. Should I let him in…? He said it…? Yeah it might have been by accident but it’s the password. The procedures don’t dictate that I use any particular judgement… He said it, didn’t he?

“Fuck?” said Solo into the box. “I think the password is fuck.”

“No it’s not.”

“Dicking? Wait, sorry. No. Ah… Strong?”

“Handcuffs,” Fluke suggested.

“Wait. I remember now!” said Solo. “The password is handcuffs!”

“Handcuffs or just hand?”

Solo looked at Fluke unbelievingly. “Hand!”

“Thank you. You may enter.”

“I should have just introduced myself from the beginning!” he whispered to Fluke. The door opened with a gentle buzz and the party walked in. Chewy cast aside the handcuffs which at this point were not locked and the three intruders began firing away with their blasters at everything that moved.

Within seconds every soldier in the detention control room lay bleeding on the floor; either dead or swiftly dying.

“Aren’t you going to say boring conversation anyway?” said Fluke to Hand Solo.

“What?” said Solo.

“Never mind.”

Solo and Fluke approached a big computer screen. “How do we find out which cell she’s in?” said Solo. Chewie meanwhile strode furrily around the room, taking weapons and wallets away from the dead and dying.

“Ask the computer?” Fluke suggested.

“I don’t know how to interface with it,” said Solo. “Computer!” he said, and received no reply.

The phone suddenly rang.

“We should answer it,” said Fluke.

“Hell, no.” said Solo.

It rang again. Fluke picked it up and brought the handset to his ear. “Hello?” he said. He paused, listening. “Hey, do you know what cell Princess Louise is in?” Solo shook his head in disapproval. “Oh, okay,” said Fluke. Then he handed the phone to Solo. “It’s for you.”

Solo’s jaw dropped as he stared at Fluke, taking the phone into his hand. “Hello?” He frowned angrily at Fluke, shaking his head. “No. Negative,” he spoke into the phone. “Everything’s fine here. Yeah, we had some fireworks so to speak. Flash fire. It’s all fine now. No, no. Don’t do that. Just stay put for now. We’ll get back to you shortly. Yeah. No. Technical malfunction. Radiation loop... Land shark... Ah… crossed wires... Girl Guides... No no no. Containment issues. Yeah ah… and the door is stuck. We’ll need a couple hours. We’re all good here. Everyone good…? Yeah, everyone says they’re good. How are you? How’s that thing you were seeing the doctor about? Oh. Oh my. That’s embarrassing. Well I better go now. No, just stay put until you hear back- what? My password? Handcuffs. No - hand! What? Oh the other pass code? Hang on, I gotta look it up.” Solo pointed his blaster at the telephone.

“Don’t do that,” said Fluke.

Solo pulled the trigger and the phone exploded into fiery bits.

Fluke sighed. “Boring conversation?”

“No, it was quite tense actually.” said Solo. “We’re gonna have company by the way.”

“I round ra rincess!” Chewingtobacca suddenly yelped. They looked down the long dark hexagonal tunnel where the wookie stood pointing at a cell door. The men swiftly joined him and peered through the tiny window at the very attractive princess Louise; one of perhaps three to four women in the entire galaxy.

“Wow, she’s beautiful!” said Fluke. “I’d totally do her.”

“For sure,” said Solo. “I’d even do her if she was my sister.”

“Ew, gross,” said Fluke.

Chewie pushed and pulled on the door to no avail.

“You got a key or something?” asked Fluke.

“Stand aside, kid,” said Solo. He raised his blaster pistol.

“Oh shit,” said Fluke, taking a step backward.

“Ruh roh,” said Chewie, following suit, as his master fired two blasts at the door. Sparks flew and a cloud of acrid smoke billowed.

Solo transferred his weight to his back foot, then canted forward kicking high. The cell door burst forward into the cell. Louise screamed. “Howdy princess,” said Solo, stepping into the little chamber and lifting off his helmet. Louise did not look impressed. Flyswatter crowded in beside him, catching Louise’s attention. The tall wookie peered in over their shoulders.

“What the hell is all this knee-bent shenanigans?” said Louise. “You bozos ever heard of a key?”

“We’re here to rescue you, Sugar,” said Solo, flashing his winningest smile.

“Oh that’s rich,” said Louise. “You two don’t look capable of rescuing a donut from a man with no mouth.”

“What?” said Solo.

“What?” said Fluke, pulling off his stormpooper mask.

“You’re kinda cute though.”

“Who, him?” said Solo, frowning.

“You understand we’re floating in space in a giant bowling ball, don’t you?” said Louise.

“Yes, of course,” said Fluke.

“Wait, you mean him or me?” said Solo.

“All of us, you idiot. You got a plan to get us out of here?” said Louise.

“No,’ said Fluke.

‘Jesus H. Christ,” said Louise.

“I don’t understand,” said Solo.

“Are you mentally impaired?” barked Louise at Hand Solo. How the hell do you figure we’re gonna get out of here?”

“You mean I’m cute? Or the kid here?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s just a teenager. I’m a pilot and a famous one. You’ve heard of the Aluminum Fulcrum no doubt.”

“Is he mentally impaired?” said Louise to Fluke.

“He’s got a ship,” said Fluke. “It’s here on board. We should get back to it immediately.”

“Okay that’s starting to sound like a plan. You got a gun for me?”

“There’s a few kicking around,” said Fluke.

“Okay, let’s blow.”

“Whoa! What?” said Solo.

Louise tore the blaster out of Solo’s hands and bulled her way past them all and out of the cell. “Oh shit!” she cried as a wave of laser fire greeted her in the long dark hallway. Fluke quickly donned his Pooper helmet again. “Follow me, you fools!” Louise cried and bolted down the hallway. Her three rescuers rushed out in the hall where laser blasts crashed the walls all around them. Solo tore ass after the princess while Fluke turned and fired back at the poopers in the control area.

“Go away!” cried Fluke at the attackers, “or I’ll set you on fire! I've done it before!” Chewie rushed by, grabbed Fluke by the collar and dragged him away after Solo and Louise.

Louise dived into an alcove and the others followed. For the moment they were there protected from blaster fire.

“Now what!” cried Solo.

“Now what?” barked Louise. “This cocamame rescue was your idea, bozo, not mine! If you don’t have a plan then we’re making it up as we go along, aren’t we? Yeah! So shut up and follow me!” With that she raised her blaster at the door at the back of the alcove and blasted it to pieces. A herd of racing bootsteps sounded in the hall. Louise dived through the door and the others followed.

(To be continued tomorrow… if you can stand it…)

A New Dope Part 5 of 8

CHAPTER SIX

The Aluminum Fulcrum sat in a yawning brightly-lit bay within the Giant Bowling Ball in the Sky. A full battalion of stormpoopers stood in a perfect grid, blaster rifles held against their white enamel chest plates while Sargent Goosestep stood at the base of the gangway ramp. A company of stormpoopers came marching down the ramp. “There’s nobody on board,” said Group leader Wankenshnitzel. “The log shows that they all aborted in a shuttle craft.”

Goosestep turned to his sidekick, Corporal Adolf Uberprick. “Track the shuttle and bring it in. I want the occupants taken alive. DO NOT…! disappoint me!”

“Yes sir,” said Corporal Uberprick. He marched swiftly away.

“Gambino, Weinerhausen, scan the entire interior and report back to me. I’ll be in my office.”

The two poopers nodded and proceeded forward with a wide-mouthed gun-like instrument.

Goosestep marched away and the battalion fell in line behind him except for Gambino and Weinerhausen who boarded the ship.

Meanwhile in a dark compartment below the floor the six Aluminum Fulcrum occupants sat cross-legged except for the short cylindrical RBC who stood in his normal three-point stance. He quietly clicked and ticked and whirred.

“Shut him up,” hissed Solo.

“What?” whispered CIBC to RBC. “Are you sure?”

“I said…” said Solo.

“The princess is on board!” said CIBC.

“What?” said Solo.

“Princess Louise?” asked Ben.

“Yes,” said CIBC.

“Is he sure?” asked Fluke.

“Yes Master Fluke!” snapped CIBC. “What did I just say?”

“Easy.”

“He hacked into the ship’s wi-fi,” whispered CIBC.

“You must rescue her,” said Ben, “While I find the tractor beam power source and disable it.”

“You’re out of your mind,” said Solo, then: “Quiet!” Footsteps approached overhead. They all went silent. Then just as they were about to trod above, RBC issued a quiet but high-pitched alarm. Solo  immediately wanted to wring the neck of the confounded mechanical beast but had no way of doing this. What RBC was trying to say meanwhile, and far too late, was that the disguised trapdoor above them was not altogether properly in place; a fact that became all too apparent to the company as stormpoopers Gambino and Weinerhausen came crashing down on top of them.

The madness which followed would be lengthy and cumbersome to describe in prose but suffice to say: there were a great many bumps and bruises and hurt feelings applied to all parties involved and a great kerfluffle and much alarm, but with great fortune the Fulcrumites were victorious in apprehending and immobilizing the imperial intruders, stripping them naked, clicking a few compromising snapshots and warning them these would be all over the galactic internet in no time flat if they didn’t shut up and play ball.

“Okay, we got some rescuing to do, Hand,” said Fluke.

“Not on your life,” said Solo.

“There will be a huge reward,” said Fluke.

“Will there?” said Solo, looking to Ben. Ben nodded sagely. “Okay, let’s get started then.”

“RB says she’s being held in Detention Block D.”

Fluke and Solo quickly dressed up in all the poopers clothes and poop suits, tying down and gagging the unwilling donors. “Stay here, you two,” said Master Fluke to his little steampunker dudes. Looking like official stormpoopers, Fluke and Solo handcuffed wookie of the year Chewingtobacca and led him out of the Aluminum Fulcrum. They looked around, and seeing the coast was clear, Luke let loose a brief whistle, then the three carried on while Ben, upon hearing the signal, slipped out of the Fulcrum and dodged away into the shadows.

After a short while RBC began rolling away.

“My stars!” exclaimed CIBC. “Where do you think you’re going!”

RB hooted and bleeped and thrummed.

“But Master Fluke-”

RB tooted and honked.

“What!” said CIBC. “Master Fluke can go - what - himself?”

(To be continued tomorrow… if you can stand it…)

A New Dope Part 4 of 8

MEANWHILE IN THE STREETS OF THE CITY OF FOOLS… A Skyrider sand boat whizzed through the crowds pursued by four sprinting light-rainpoopers as RBC perched on the rear of the glider, all of his torso hatches wide open as be blasted ice cubes at their pursuers. Flyswatter effortlessly weaved between and around the city’s denizens and their ware-laden booths as a stormpooper air cruiser suddenly appeared behind him.

“Dammit,” cried Fluke, eyeing his rear-view mirror. RBC opened another tray of ice cubes and began firing at the new target.

The stormpooper driver behind them had a hard time keeping up with his quarry with all the ice cubes caroming off his helmet. Finally he slammed right into a yawning hipposaurus. He flew out of his seat and right into the giant beast’s mouth who promptly gave the soldier an exploratory taste before spitting him out again.

Flyswatter and company pulled into a narrow alley and where the alley opened into a dead-end cul-de-sac he found a giant space oliphant and parked under his great belly.

“There’s a big bag of space peanuts in it for you if you hide this sand glider for us for an hour!” cried old Opie Wan Kablooey.

“Okie doke,” said the oliphant.

A small neon sign marked the back door of the Booze hound Bar and Grill.

“This looks like as good a place as any,” said Ben.

The humans entered the bar where the Elephant Man Band writhed on stage, blowing their saxophones while the lead Elephant Man singer belted out a Rod Stewart cover: “If ya think I’m sexy and you want my money, come on baby shake my flapdoodle!”

“Hey,” said a gorgeous pig-snouted one-eyed man who was covered in scabs and dandruff as he stepped in front of Ben and Fluke.

“Are you a pilot?” said Ben.

“You see that big abominable snowman-looking fellow over there?” replied the scab man.

“He’s a pilot?” asked Ben.

“He doesn’t like you.”

“That’s fine,” said Ben. “We’re looking for a pilot with his own ship. We need a lift in a hurry.”

“And you know what else?”

“Yeah, we need to keep it on the Q.T. As in no government interference.”

“I don’t like you either.”

“Oh well. You have poor taste in people. Nobody’s perfect.”

“I SAID I DON’T LIKE YOU E-”

In a flash, Ben flung open his light saber and the scab man was gutted; cleaved in two down the middle. His two sides fall to the floor as old Ben stepped between them and Fluke scampered behind him. Ben walked up to a great white beast who looked like a space snowman.

“Are you a pilot?” asked Ben.

“Fuck off,” said the snow beast.

“Don’t you like me?” asked Ben.”

The beast roared an ungodly roar, his wide open jaws an inch from Ben’s face, his breath the foulest stench in three space counties. With a sudden blue flash Ben cleaved him in two.

“Boring conversation anyway,” said Hand Solo with a wink at the old man. He sat at his corner table leaning against the wall.

“Are you a pilot?” asked Ben.

“Best one in three space counties,” said Solo. “I’m the owner/operator of the renowned Aluminum Fulcrum.

“Never heard of it,” said Fluke.

“Sure you have.” said Hand. “It made the Cannonball Run in 3.4 space seconds.”

“I never heard of it either,” said Ben. “But we’re desperate. Can you get us to the Dego Blah system in a hurry? We wish to avoid - imperial… interference. If you know what I mean.”

“Well that’s my specialty,” said Hand. “It’ll cost you extra though.”

“Now look here!” said Fluke.

“That’s fine,” said Ben. I’ll give you three bags of space money.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Once we arrive of course.”

“Oh I’ll need a deposit.”

“No can do,” said Ben. But Solo’s attention was elsewhere. He stared at the front door. Ben suddenly realized that the band had stopped playing. He followed Solo’s gaze and saw a pair of stormpoopers at the door. One of the Elephant Men was pointing their way and trumpeting something indistinguishable.

“Back door, barked Solo, bolting from his seat. “Follow me.”

The three slipped into a tall staff service area and before the towering giraffian line cooks could say anything they rushed by and out a side door into an alley. “Where’s your cargo?” barked Solo.

“In my Skyrider around the corner.”

“It’s just the two of us and two banking robots,” added Ben.

“Banking robots?” said Solo, as he followed Fluke around the corner. “This doesn’t sound good. What kind of white-collar monkey-business are you guys up to?”

“Never mind!” said Fluke.

“All right. All right,” said Solo as he leapt into the rumble seat between the two machines. “Just get us the hell out of here. I hope you drive like Steve-the-Queen.”

Fluke threw the vehicle into hoverdrive and they tore ass out of the alley.

Solo kept a close eye on the roads behind them, watching out for authorities while barking instructions at Flyswatter. “You drive pretty good, kid. Ever think of becoming a pilot?”

“Oh, I can fly. It’s in my blood.”

“Takes more than blood to fly a ship like the Aluminum Fulcrum. It’s all any one man can handle. There! make a left into that hangar!” Flyswatter made a hard left which nearly toppled Solo out of the vehicle. He grabbed onto RBC who squealed and blared in protest.

Fluke slammed on the breaks. “What the hell is that?”

“That’s a wookie, kiddo.”

“I mean the ship!”

Solo leapt out of the hovercraft. “It’s a beaut, ain’t it?” The giant mechanical contraption sat on it’s landing feet with hatches open here and there; wires and hoses hanging out of it. A tall shaggy brown-furred primate had paused his wrench-work to look at the arrivals.

“Go start her up, Chewie. No time to spare!”

“Huh?” yawned Chewingtobacca. “Rart er rup?”

“Now! Never mind the recalibrations!” Solo marched quickly toward the ship. It’s gangway lay angled down to the ground allowing access to the interior through the beast’s underbelly. Fluke, Ben and the robots followed.

“Rarirations?” gurgled Chewie.

Solo walked by him and wrenched the wrench from his grasp. “Go start her up! Now!”

“Okie Rokie!” said Chewie with a shrug, and he headed up the ramp.

“Get on board, grab a seat and buckle up!” Solo instructed his passengers. He jogged around the ship stuffing wires and hoses into nooks and crannies and slamming shut maintenance panels.

“This looks like a complete peace of crap!” said Fluke.

“May the the force be with us,” Ben murmured, shaking his head.

“We’ll need it,” said Fluke.

“Is there a meal on this flight?” asked CIBC. No one responded.

“You there!” cried a voice. “Halt!”

Everyone turned to see a small crowd of stormpoopers spilling into the hangar.

“Go go go!” cried Solo. The gang all swiftly climbed the ramp as the stormpoopers raised their blaster rifles. Fluke paused on the ramp and drew his own blaster pistol. The soldiers began firing. Fluke fired back. The engines began to roar and the gangway ramp began to rise, taking Flyswatter with it, laser blasts bouncing off the ship’s surfaces around him. Fluke fell back on his ass, unscathed as the ramp sealed shut. The ship began to shudder madly as it rose from the ground. Moments later it flew through the sky.

“Why the hell are there so many idiot lights flashing!” cried Solo.

“I ron’t row!” said Chewingtobacca.

“What the hell work were you doing down there!”

“Rerairs!”

“Repairs! What the hell?”

“Rerairs.”

“What are rerairs?” said Fluke, stepping through the hatch into the pilot’s cabin.

“Nothing,” said Solo. Go mix yourself a drink or make a space sandwich or something.”

“It’s time to begin your training, Fluke,” said Ben from the hallway. “Come with me.”

They entered the training lounge of the Aluminum Fulcrum where they found CIBC riding around in circles, slumped over the top of RBC, his golden feet sitting on the ground, several yards away, not attached to his legs.

“What the hell are they doing?” said Ben.

“Practicing,” said Fluke.

“For what?”

“I have no idea.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“I don’t get it,” said Solo, peering ahead into the blackness of space. “There’s no planet here! There’s supposed to be a planet here!”

“Obviously we’re not where we’re supposed to be!” said Fluke. “Does anything on this tin can of yours work properly?”

“We’re where we’re supposed to be, kid. The planet is missing!”

“Planets don’t go missing,” said Fluke.

Old Ben Kablooey was pondering the cosmos. “There is something here all right,” he said. “I hear the cries of millions of lost souls! and I sense the crashing of falling bowling pins.”

“What?” said Fluke.

“Rowring rins?” said Chewie.

“I must be mistaken,” said Ben.

“Wait, I can see one of the planet’s moons,” said Solo. They all peered ahead where a small black space; an absence of stars, was beginning to materialize into a visible dark sphere.”

“That’s no moon,” said Fluke.

“It’s the Great Bowling Ball in the Sky.” whispered Ben.

“That’s just a silly old legend old man.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ben. “What do you think you’re looking at then?”

They stared at the massive orb as they approached it. “Well fuck a space duck,” said Solo. “What are those three giant craters? It does look like a bowling ball!”

“Get us out of here now!” said Ben. “We must fly!”

Solo pushed a lever, frowned, pulled it, frowned deeper, pushed it, pulled it, pulled it, pushed it.

“Is that how it’s supposed to work?” asked Fluke.

“No, that is not how it’s supposed to work! It is in fact not working!”

“I’m shocked,” said Fluke.

“We’re being pulled in to the bowling ball. It’s like a small black hole gravitational-”

“It’s a tractor beam,” said Ben.

They all stared silently as the bowling ball grew slowly, inexorably larger.

“I can’t get us out of this thing,” said Solo.

“We’re fucked,” said Flyswatter.

“Is it imperial?” said Solo.

“Yes,” said Ben, pondering the cosmos. “I sense a presence I have not felt…” He looked at young  Fluke and looked away again. “Have you any secret compartments on board?”

“Tons,” said Solo.

“I have a plan,” said Ben.

(To be continued tomorrow… if you can stand it…)