Chapter Sixteen
ENTANGLEMENT
"Hey, this isn't the cafeteria."

The Hover Screemer(tm) rips along the dirt road, a dust trail billowing conspicuously behind it. Gladius examines the BIGGER GUN(tm), trying to figure out how its Randomizer(tm) works.

Suddenly, two bolts of bottled energy flash out of the sky, plowing a deep trench across their path. Geronimo reefs the wheel, forcing the Screemer into the ditch. He brakes hard, the rough terrain jolting the land craft. A patch of soft dirt sucks at the undercarriage and the Screemer spins ninety degrees, sinks to the ground, and comes to an abrupt halt, its engine stalled.

Gladius scans the area for the source of the shots, drawn to the whine of a propulsion drive. An airborne Cop Hopper(tm) is closing fast from above and behind, its lights flashing. "Move this can!"

Geronimo jabs at the keypad. The starter motor whines and the engine sputters once, then rumbles to life. The Screemer elevates from the ground and he guns it, whirling in a barely controlled donut.

Crouching in the back, Fystik keeps one eye on the approaching Cop Hopper(tm), the other on Geronimo's driving. Geronimo punches the black craft into a copse of trees, heading toward a field of tall, thick-stalked alien crops.

baaaFOOOOMMM!!!

A tree splinters and falls across their path. Geronimo swerves hard, heading for a patch of saplings. Slate and Fystik are wrenched sideways in their seats. The young trees engulf the vehicle, then go down with a raggedy slap, trampled by the Screemer.

Fystik, spitting out a wad of bitter-tasting leaves, gives Geronimo a dirty look as they burst out into the open. He hunkers down, clutching the edge of the seat.

Gladius wrestles with the BIGGER GUN(tm), taking aim at the Cop Hopper(tm). He tugs at the trigger as Geronimo, fighting with the rough terrain, flattens a fence and enters the field of alien crops. A blue energy pulse erupts from the gun and goes wide.

Gladius draws another bead and fires again. This time a stream of liquid nitrogen spits from the weapon. The direct hit freezes the Cop Hopper's AttiTooters(tm), pitching it forward in a slow roll, its pilots stunned with horror. The plummeting machinery impacts with the ground, collapsing into a snarl of tangled metal.

Geronimo glides the Screemer to an easy stop, deep amidst the tall rows of the field.

"What the hell did you do to this thing?" asks a bewildered Gladius, looking at the BIGGER GUN(tm).

"That would be the Randomizer," informs Fystik, trying to sound casual as he picks himself off the floor.

"I guess it's, ah, random?" Geronimo suggests.

"Shouldn't we get moving?" Fystik says. "There could be more of those on the way."

"Let's check the wreckage first," Gladius says, climbing from the Screemer, "we might find something useful."

Geronimo nods and follows him. Fystik nervously scans the sky, then reluctantly leaves the safety of the vehicle and trots to catch up.

The door to Petunia's cell whisks open. Bloition enters, followed by a tall, neatly dressed man wheeling a Nasal Acid Batherizer(tm) cart. Petunia sits innocently, covering the damaged shackles she has been working on.

"So," begins Bloition, sarcastically, "you could handle it. And you wouldn't be followed."

"I wasn't," implores Petunia.

"Are you in league with the military? The IDR? The Space Commission? Which?"

"Look, you've got the Scow Cows. I've been damn good to you! I've always delivered an excellent product, always on time. Why don't you just leave it at that?"

"We need you to keep supplying us with ships. But now the military have arrived to spoil our plans."

"I didn't bring them here. Somebody else must've––"

SMACK!

Bloition backhands Petunia. He rubs his hand, angry at himself for losing his temper. "I'm sorry. I'm usually very reasonable."

Petunia sucks at the blood on the inside of her cheek, raises her head to glare at her captor and former client.

"But my friend, Count Abelnod, is not very reasonable. You know more than you're telling, and tell you will."

The First Chairman Supreme exits, leaving Petunia alone with Count Abelnod. Grinning, he activates the Nasal Acid Batherizer(tm).

As Gladius, Geronimo and Fystik trudge through the tall rows toward the downed Hopper, they become acutely aware of movement. The field has come to life. The three meter tall, asparagus-like brown stalks writhe and twist, blocking their path.

"What the––?" Geronimo exclaims, disturbed.

"This must be a Nauga field," comments Fystik, examining the pliable skin of a thick, tubular stalk. "Where they get Naugahydes."

Gladius and Geronimo crane their necks. The leafless, firmly rooted plants sway their bulb-like heads back and forth, sensing the intrusion into their midst.

These plants are carnivorous, eating insects and small rodents that wander into the fields. Although they could never devour anything as large as a human, due to the lack of incisors, their powerful biting could turn a large animal into a sack of bone chips. During the harvest, when the plants are stripped alive of their hides, they must be heavily sedated to allow the workers and machinery to proceed unhindered.

Abruptly, a Nauga chomps down on the Dismemberon's shoulder, the bony ridge of its mouth parts pinching on his blue flesh. Fystik shrieks, stabbing his hand into the light sensitive surfaces on the Nauga's head. The giant plant howls, dropping him.

Another Nauga lashes out at Gladius, who, in reflex, unloads the BIGGER GUN(tm). A plume of fire blossoms from the barrel, searing several rows. The large stalks go limp and the wailing plants flop to the ground in pain, their vinyl hides melted and blistering.

As the trio turns to break for the Hover Screemer(tm), a giant Nauga swings down, its bone crushing jaws searching for crushable bones. Geronimo reveals the Tri-Prong Defacer(tm) from beneath his cape and deftly cleaves the plant in three.

"My Defacer!" shrills Fystik. He leaps at Geronimo, tackling the pack rat, and they tumble into the smoldering group of Naugas. The plants, their stems now acutely sensitive to pain, screech and peck wildly at the pair.

Gladius skirts the confusion, climbs into the Hover Screemer(tm) and cuts through the plants toward his scrapping cohorts. He leans out, cracks their heads together, and heaves them into the Screemer. Grabbing the Tri-Prong Defacer(tm), Gladius speeds out of the Nauga field toward the road.

Shaking off the disorientation, Fystik begins to climb toward Gladius, reaching for the Defacer.

"Freeze, Blue Boy!" Gladius sticks his arm out of the vehicle. "Another move and I drop it."

Fystik stops, eyes glued to the Defacer dangling precariously on Slate's fingertip, the ground whizzing below.

"Now, fighting amongst ourselves is not going to get you to Petunia. I'll give this back to you, but you've got to calm down."

"That's mine, Gladass," whines Geronimo, rubbing his head.

"Shut up, Gerry." Gladius hands the Defacer to Fystik who caresses it lovingly.

The Hover Screemer(tm) glides swiftly onward, approaching the laser curtain and the city of Verd that lies beyond.

Second Clerk Tizzaphooex makes pleasant conversation with Snax as she leads him down the umpteenth corridor. People dash back and forth, most carrying stacks of papers or personal belongings.

"What, um, happens here?" Snax asks, observing the activity.

"Accountancy," Tizzaphooex replies.

"Everyone sure seems in a hurry."

"Yes, we're in the midst of relocating to a new facility. Moving is such a pain. Ah, here we are."

The pair stop outside a large set of sliding doors. Tizzaphooex withdraws a key from her belt and inserts it in the door lock.

HUMMM. BZZT.

The door opens revealing the Crusade Strategy Room(tm). It is abuzz with panicked clerks urgently destroying evidence and preparing for flight. Several employees await the signal to make their way to the vehicle hangars. They watch, with apprehension, the crippled military battleship on a large Holo-Vis(tm) projection.

"Good work, Tizzaphooex." First Clerk Supreme, Ondurf Munch, strides over to Snax and Tizzaphooex. He nods to two guards who immediately slap Snax into restraint cuffs.

"Hey, this isn't the cafeteria."

"No, spy, it isn't," Munch spits, motioning to the guards. They usher Snax through the room toward an elevator. "Second Clerk, accompany them and prepare him for questioning. I will join you shortly."

Munch returns to the gathering around the Holo-Vis(tm). Second Clerk Tizzaphooex follows the guards and Snax into the elevator.

Count Abelnod's bony hand encircles Petunia's jaw. She struggles, yanking the chains that constrict her limbs. Her captor begins another assault with the Batherizer. She can smell the acid as the nozzle nears her nose. Her mind swims; there is no way she can handle another attack on her senses.

With a desperate tug of her laser equipped arm the weakened chain gives way. The Five Point Pin Laser(tm) swings into view, activates. Abelnod flinches, grabbing for her freed appendage. The laser fires crazily from Petunia's wrist, cutting into the wall, the door, anything that gets in its way.

The Count is overpowering her, forcing her arm toward the ground. She lashes out with a ferocious head butt, catching the Batherizer nozzle and splashing acid into Abelnod's face. He jerks, blinded, and stumbles backward, tripping over the Batherizer unit. He scrambles to his feet, eyes gushing.

Petunia seizes the opportunity, strafing the Five Point Pin Laser(tm) across Abelnod. The Count wails. She fires again, poking five neat, symmetrical holes in the man's forehead. His remains topple backward, clanging off the cell door.

Petunia gasps heavily, her face red and stinging from her tormentors attempts at information extraction. She returns her attention to the chain which still binds her other arm and resumes cutting.

On board the Annihilator there is mayhem. All electrics and communication equipment have been knocked out, the decks are filled with noxious fumes, and the dim emergency lighting is beginning to fail.

South and Cleanerschmidt wend their way through the choked passages, searching for survivors. Roughly one third of the initial three-hundred and forty-one crew members have made their way to the docking bays, only to find the extravehicular equipment inoperable. Dejected, they sit quietly, awaiting their fate.

The Observer's cabin is dimly lit by a flickering Holo-Vis(tm). The static-riddled image of an agitated Bloition, pacing back and forth in his office on the distant Green Moon, has just finished relaying his fears of defeat against the powerful military. The Observer manages to calm the Chairman Supreme, and informs him of what steps must be taken when the next wave arrives. With the assurance that help is forthcoming and that control will be maintained, Bloition signs off. The Observer sits, motionless, gazing at the star-trails as they quietly slide past the view port.

Slate backs off on the accelerator of the Hover Screemer(tm). Looming impressively above the trio is the shimmering halo of the laser curtain defense system. The Screemer glides to a halt, idling smoothly.

"Sonnuva bitch. How do we get by this thing?" Geronimo mutters.

The giant mirrors of the system are several meters above the ground, mounted on pedestals. Protecting the lower spaces around the base of the pedestals is a series of smaller, horizontal lasers, arranged in rows a few centimeters apart, much like a rail fence. At intervals of one-hundred meters or so, a deflector lens accepts the beams and redirects them to the next column, and so on around the perimeter. The columns are made of extremely tough material and engineered in such a way as to be virtually indestructible.

Gladius stares, trance-like, at the huge mirrors.

Fystik flops down into the rear seat. "Dirt balls! I'm never going to be reunited with Petunia."

"Brilliant deduction," remarks Geronimo. "We could've split ages ago, back when we had fuel, and been livin' happily-ever-after by now. But no, I happen to be travelin' with an over-qualified psychotic butcher, and an under-qualified one-man army who wants to be a hero." He shakes his head in disgust, stares off into the distance.

Gladius lowers his gaze from the overhead mirrors, down and across the gleaming, gloss-black hood of the Hover Screemer(tm), then looks thoughtfully at the horizontal beams of the laser fence. Finally, he reaches down, shuts off the Screemer's engine and begins to climb from the vehicle.

"Hey!" shouts Geronimo. "What the hell do ya think––"

"Shut up! Get out here, both of you, and help me get the hood off this thing!"