Chapter Twenty-One
NULLIFICATION
"Are you nuts?"

Mr. Munitions(tm) emits a plume of fire, causing a stack of crates to erupt in flame. Leaving that, he turns toward the wall, fires three quick explosive shells, and opens a huge hole into the rooms beyond.

"Ha, ha," shouts the robot. "Let's see what we have here." He chugs through the smoldering hole and out of the cargo depot.

"That tank-head just hit the road," informs Geronimo, peering over a heap of rubbish.

"Any sign of the guards?" asks Gladius.

Geronimo scans the area. Through the smoke, at the far end of the depot, he spots Rhymo, Bloition and a couple of guards hovering nervously around the doorway.

"They're at the door, lookin' to see if that maniacal microchip has left for good."

"We'd better find another way out." Gladius begins to move, but stops suddenly.

Geronimo bumps into him. "What?"

Lavoriss's question is answered by the high-pitched whine of descending AttiTooters(tm). A Vi-Troop Carrier(tm) eases down the shaft, it's military insignia clearly describing it as a unit of the Frak Crak Assault Squad.

"Wonderful," Slate remarks, "Hornheads. We've had it."

"What's that?" Bloition says, peering down the aisle.

The Vi-Troop Carrier(tm) settles itself onto the cargo bay floor. The ramp of the troop carrier slides down and its metal doors grind open. A handful of Frak Craks, poised and ready to kill, spill out, quickly slinking into the cover of the cargo containers. A loud speaker emerges from the top of the ship.

"Bloition!" booms a voice over the speaker.

First Chairman Supreme Bloition, slightly confused, moves out from the cover of the doorway. "Over here!"

Satisfied that their wounds have been neutralized, South and the troopers move to the airlock door, gingerly stepping over the mess left by the dissolved Cleanerschmidt. The odor of gastric juices is overpowering and two of the soldiers make a hasty exit from the close quarters, launching their last meal on the way. Salata and the remaining two move through the Gooey Tube(tm), weapons drawn and trained on the trapped mercenaries. The troopers escort the prisoners back toward the Abrogate.

Peeking through the porthole of the War Buzzard(tm), Salata South gags. The sight of the stinking, oozing, smears within almost make him vomit.

An electronics technician from the Abrogate arrives and goes to work on the Buzzard's hatch. Within moments, the door whisks open and the technician stands aside, wincing at South's facial disfigurement and swooning at the wave of stench which issues from the vessel.

South cautiously pokes his head in, breathing as shallowly as possible. He steps over the remains, making his way to the War Buzzard's(tm) bridge. There, he flicks on the external monitors, trying to determine what's happening on the Green Moon. The screens before him detail the destruction of Verd as the Frak Crak Assault Squad goes about its business. Frak Craks? When did they get here?

From their hiding place, Geronimo and Gladius watch the First Chairman Supreme approach the ship, alone. They see a tall, military colonel march down the ramp.

"What are they saying?" whispers Geronimo.

Gladius shakes his head, the dying cool-down whine of the ship's engines blocking out the conversation.

"What the hell is going on?" asks Bloition.

"The military figured it out. They know about you and the terrorist base that is operating here," reports Itchtrong, flatly.

"Yes, we've been notified. I had the entire facility packed up and ready to move, but when I got word of Frak Craks approaching… we began evidence destruction."

"Right." Itchtrong glances over Bloition's shoulder at Lieutenant Flinnff. Flinnff offers a discreet nod.

"Rhymo," Bloition shouts, "tell the command center to move everyone down to the Cargo Depot, we've got a ride off this berg."

There is no reply.

"Rhymo?"

Still no answer.

"RHYMO!"

Silence.

Bloition looks at the Colonel. "What's going on––"

BWAP BWAP BWAP BWAM!

The holey form of First Chairman Supreme Bloition tumbles to the floor. Emotionless, Itchtrong holsters his Hand Cannon(tm).

Gladius and Geronimo exchange a puzzled look in the wake of the killing.

Itchtrong looks about the depot. "Snax!"

Gladius starts, following the Colonel's gaze. A pile of rubble begins to shift. Snax Mawhoooba's singular eye pokes through the debris.

"Snax, get over here, we're getting out."

Snax pushes the hasty barricade aside and lumbers toward the ship.

"That traitorous pusbag," whispers Gladius, his finger tightening on the trigger of the BIGGER GUN(tm)

"Cool it, Gladman," urges Geronimo, "those dickheads will blast the crap out of––"

But before Lavoriss can finish, Slate is rising, aiming his weapon.

Flinnff catches sight of the movement to his right, sees Slate and the BIGGER GUN(tm). "Over there, kill him!"

The returning Frak Craks spring into action, sighting their weapons at Slate. Gladius's finger begins to squeeze. The buzz of targeting-lock-mechanisms floods the area as the Frak Craks get a positive fix. Snax, spying his ex-boss, tries to waddle faster. Geronimo grabs the seat of Slate's Spiffy Sensor Suit Undergarment(tm).

KAFLAMMMBEAU!!

The burst of blinding energy from the Frak Crak's guns screams toward Slate, narrowly missing him as he is pulled down. The eruption from the BIGGER GUN(tm) goes straight up. Huge hunks of ceiling rain down on the small group of combatants.

"Forget them," orders Itchtrong. "Let's get out of here. This place is falling apart."

Restraining themselves, the Frak Craks pour back into the ship. Within, Snax takes a place on the Magno Bench(tm) and begins to snoop about. "Anything to, um, eat in here, guys?"

The troopers are silent, staring coldly at the Metamorphrodite.

Unaware that the Frak Craks are retreating, Gladius and Geronimo make a hasty exit, skirting around the shelving and slinking along the wall, back toward the main door. Halfway there, they enter the hole made by Mr. Munitions(tm). Inside, the robot, with total disregard for the existing rooms and corridors, has made a crater riddled tunnel, which snakes into the bowels of the complex.

"Holy crap," says Geronimo, in awe. "Where to?"

"That psycho robot made us a trail," Gladius shrugs, "let's see if it leads anywhere useful."

South, aboard the War Buzzard(tm), thumbs open a channel to the Abrogate's bridge. "Major Wu Su?"

"What's the situation?" returns the Major.

"The emergency medical team were assassins, sent to finish us off. The situation is under control, but I'm afraid we've lost Cleanerschmidt." South pauses to let the news settle with Wu Su. "I've scanned the Moon's surface. Hornheads are ransacking the city."

"Itchtrong must be here," says Wu Su, hopeful.

"Something is out of kilter, Major. They're attacking unarmed civilians. And why hasn't he made contact and facilitated a rescue? That's procedure. I'm going down to check it out."

"Captain South, I can't spare anybody. There's no point risking the lives of any more crew members."

"I don't need anyone else." Salata closes the channel. He waves the technician back into the Abrogate and settles himself into the Magno Piloting Chair(tm).

Once the inner hatch is sealed, he blows off the Gooey Tube(tm), effectively venting the bulk of the gory tangle in the airlock out into space. South then toggles the HooterTooters(tm), driving the War Buzzard(tm) back to Verd.

Gladius and Geronimo step carefully along the bombed-out path left by Mr. Munitions(tm). Ominous creaks and pops issue from the structure around them. It has become unstable, weakened by the robot's incessant firing. Staccato burps of weaponry report from further down the tunnel, punctuated occasionally by a mechanical chuckling.

"He must be up around that corner," Gladius whispers. "There's got to be a way out of here, Geronimo."

"I just hope we find it before that metal megalomaniac brings the house down on us."

Geronimo watches as Gladius sneaks along the passage to the corner. Slate motions him forward. The two garbage men observe as Mr. Munitions(tm) burrows into a main cross-corridor. They move up through the clouds of dust to the fresh hole. The robot is going to work on a large metal door. Stenciled across the door, in bold letters, are the words:

REACTOR CONTAINMENT AREA
EXTREME RADIATION HAZARD
DO NOT ENTER

"Oh shit," Geronimo gasps.

Gladius looks about, then spies an access elevator to the left of Mr. Munitions(tm). Elbowing his ex-copilot, he points to their intended escape route.

"Now I'll use my favorite toy," chortles Mr. Munitions(tm). "The MetalBiter Rotorsaw, a modern miracle in cutting equipment. Handy, dandy stuff."

A retractable arm extends from a compartment in the robot's side, the gleaming disk of the MetalBiter Rotorsaw(tm) poised for action. The disk revs up and, in a shower of sparks, Mr. Munitions(tm) happily begins to cut into the door.

The Vi-Troop Carriers(tm), now in orbit, regroup and round the Green Moon, heading for the Decimater.

On board, Colonel Itchtrong queries Lieutenant Flinnff. "Are all the troops clear of the planet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Give the order to prepare for detonation."

The screeching wails, rising and falling, until a huge metal slab of door clangs loudly to the floor.

"Let's renovate, heh, heh," calls Mr. Munitions(tm), jockeying himself through the opening and entering the unworldly glow of the reactor containment area.

"Come on." Gladius motions and they dash across the corridor, sneaking past the preoccupied robot, to the elevator.

Geronimo impatiently plugs at the call button. "Let's go, let's go!"

Finally, the door slides open and they dart inside.

Gladius scans the control display. "Where do you think we are?"

"Just hit up," snaps Geronimo, punching a button.

The door slides shut, cutting off the sound of machine gun bursts, and the lift begins its ascent.

The elevator stops abruptly on the surface level of Verd. The doors whisk open, allowing Gladius and Geronimo to tumble out into the foyer of an office building, the razed street beyond. They stare dumbly at the pockmarked rubble that Verd has become.

"These Hornheads don't fool around," observes Geronimo.

"Not much left, is there?"

They step out into the street. Slate points to the dead civilians heaped about.

"This is odd. I know Hornheads specialize in calculated efficiency in battle, but it looks like they've been on a slash and burn spree. These people have been mowed down indiscriminately. None of them have weapons. There's no sign that they were fighting back."

"What are you suggestin'?"

"I don't think our Frak Craks are here to apprehend terrorists, I think they're on a sterilization mission."

"You mean, as in… annihilation?"

Gladius meets Geronimo's gaze, nods slowly. "This place has probably been mined."

They glance around, engulfed by silence. Verd lies still, awaiting the death blow. Slate and Lavoriss begin to walk, slowly at first, then to trot, and finally they break into a flat out run down the center of the wide boulevard leading out of the city.

"Prepare for Tow Hold," informs Flinnff.

The troop carrier rocks gently as the Decimater activates the beam to bring the ship into its belly. The ship settles with a bump onto the landing deck, and a conveyor ushers it into the large airlock leading to the storage hangar.

The airlock's inner doors open onto the storage hangar deck and the Vi-Troop Carrier(tm) is conveyed to its stall within the hangar. Itchtrong deactivates his Magno Command Chair(tm) and struts down the boarding ramp.

Snax quickly lumbers after him. "I did good for you, right?"

Itchtrong ignores the alien, stopping to look at an unfamiliar sight in the hangar.

"The least you could, like, do is point me toward the snacks," continues Snax.

"Shut up," orders the Colonel. He walks over to the foreign vessel delicately perched on the deck. It is a sleek Personal Stellar Cruiser(tm), the seal of the InterGalactic Military High Command emblazoned on the door.

An ensign approaches. "High Commander Supreme Snoyan has arrived, sir."

"Indeed." Itchtrong cocks an eyebrow toward the officer. "Alone?"

"With an unidentified guest, sir. They took the express lift straight to the Deluxe Guest Quarters."

Itchtrong ponders this briefly. "What's the situation with the other Battle Accelerators?"

"Only the Abrogate survived, intact, but crippled, sir."

"Once all the Vi-Troop Carriers are safely stowed, have the helmsman proceed to their position for facilitation of a rescue."

"Right away, sir." The ensign retreats into the bowels of the ship.

Lieutenant Flinnff joins the Colonel, he too recognizing the Stellar Cruiser. "What's she doing here?"

"Good question."

FFFFWWWWHHHOOOOOSSSHHHH!

Slate and Lavoriss turn at the sudden sound. A small ship skims fast and low overhead, passes them, and pulls up short in front of them. It hovers, as if investigating the pair. They duck for cover. From behind a gutted Transport O'Bus(tm) they watch the ship land in the street.

"War Buzzard," Geronimo says, his upper lip twitching.

"That's our way out of here," informs Gladius.

"But it's probably filled with soldiers, we can't out gun them."

"Maybe. Maybe it's time for a different approach."

Gladius slings the BIGGER GUN(tm) over his back, holds his hands out and begins to walk toward the ship.

"Are you nuts?"

The hatchway of the War Buzzard(tm) slides open. Gladius hesitates, then continues forward. A figure appears in the doorway.

"Hold your ground, garbage man."

"South?!" calls Gladius, in disbelief.

Captain Salata South aims his Intensifier Musket(tm) at Gladius's chest.

"South, the Hornheads have probably got this place mined. If we don't leave now, we aren't going to have much of a future."

"I oughta blow you away, garbage man."

"You oughta listen to reason."

Geronimo skulks around the Transport O'Bus(tm), sneaking under the War Buzzard's(tm) landing gear. He quietly unslings the Prompt O'Sting(tm) pole from his back.

"How did you avoid the Frak Craks?" asks the Captain.

"We were on the subterranean levels, apparently the terrorist command center. The Frak Craks didn't seem too interested in investigating down there, though. Some colonel arrived to pick up Snax, my traitor of a copilot, and then took off."

South sports a look of surprise. "Colonel? That must be Itchtrong. But I wasn't aware he knew about Snax Mawhoooba."

ZZZAP!

Salata is suddenly jolted and crumples to the gangplank, having been prodded in the back of the knee by the Prompt O'Sting(tm) pole. Before he can recover, Geronimo grabs South's musket and levels a Hand Cannon(tm) at the Captain's scarred face.

"Enough crap," spits the wincing Geronimo, "let's get the fuck outta here."

Gladius pushes his way up the ramp onto the ship.

"Get your ass onto the bridge," Lavoriss snorts, motioning for South to get up, "and it looks like I'm the one who should be treated with respect now, don't ya think?"

South, his scar blazing, glares at Lavoriss and climbs to his feet, nursing the tender spot where the Prompt O'Sting(tm) pole has stung. Geronimo seals the door and they turn to move to the bridge.

"Yuck!" gags Geronimo. "What the hell have you been doin'?" He tiptoes over the unpleasant smear on the floor.

On the bridge, Gladius busily works the controls, preparing for lift off. "Sit down and activate your chairs, we're going to be leaving in a hurry."

"High Commander Supreme Snoyan," salutes Itchtrong, entering the bridge. "What an unexpected pleasure to have you aboard the Decimater."

Snoyan eyes the Colonel suspiciously. "Colonel. I trust the mission has been successful for you."

"Us, yes, but I'm afraid the rest of the participating Battle Accelerators didn't fare as well."

"Explain."

Itchtrong looks about the bridge, searching for a clue to Snoyan's guest. Everything appears quite ordinary. He looks back to the High Commander Supreme and begins his explanation: "We arrived late, as planned. I immediately dispatched the Frak Crak Assault Squad to strike the colony while the other Battle Accelerators tackled with the defense grid. We made the scheduled pickup of the Metamorphrodite Snax Mawhoooba, and I took the liberty of mining the city for elimination. Apparently the Annihilator, the Pulverizer and the Expunger have been lost."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"The Abrogate is drifting, crippled, out beyond the limits of the grid. We're underway now to rescue survivors. Their communications seem to be malfunctioning, so we won't know the extent until we reach them."

Sunlight breaks onto the bridge as the Decimater rounds the limb of the small moon. There is no warmth in it, serving only to thicken the air.

"Colonel," Snoyan begins, even-toned, "I have observed your methods in the city of Verd. As you know, this mission was meant to excise the terrorist command post and remove the personnel. Slaughtering an entire city is not a positive public relations maneuver."

Itchtrong faces the wrath of Snoyan, unflinching. Her voice rises an octave.

"Your liberties have overstepped the bounds of your authority, Colonel! Your actions have seriously implicated the military into some bizarre, unprovoked attack on innocent civilians. How are we to explain this, Colonel?"

Itchtrong purses his lips, eyeing Snoyan. "I plan to make sure there are no witnesses to accuse the military of wrongdoing. The detonation of the city will ensure that. Just another explosion in the course of the intense battle with the incredibly well-armed terrorists. We don't have a problem, High Commander."

"There won't be any detonation, Colonel. Just get us to the Abrogate." She turns and strides from the bridge.

Itchtrong watches her leave, his mind whirring. What is going on? "Flinnff!"

The Lieutenant looks up from his weapons station.

"You heard the High Commander Supreme. Deactivate the detonation sequencer, we won't be lighting up the city, just yet."

"Oh, now this is a jolly good target," snorts Mr. Munitions(tm).

He is bathed in the surreal glow of nuclear fusion as he chugs up to the radiating core of the reactor, positively giddy. The cacophony of whirs, clicks and buzzes intensifies as Mr. Munitions(tm) activates every available weapon. His hulk now resembles a large metal pin cushion, with each pinhead a fertile ordnance of doom.

"Heh, heh, heh. Let's play!"

The glow of the reactor reflects momentarily in the precision optical lenses of Mr. Munitions's(tm) visual apparatus, then the mechanical machismo opens fire.

Colonel Itchtrong sits in the Magno Command Chair(tm), mulling, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. Lieutenant Flinff has just finished disarming the detonation sequencer and glances one last time to the Colonel before turning off the ignition key.

"Incoming!" shouts the defense systems petty officer.

The bridge personnel are unable to react before the massive shock wave strikes the Decimater. The ship makes a giant lurch. Flinnff grips the console. Itchtrong tumbles across the deck, grasping for a handhold. The lighting dims, flickers out momentarily, then returns.

Several smaller aftershocks buffet the ship as, far below, portions of the Green Moon are launched into the stratosphere.

"What did you do?!!" shouts the Colonel.

Flinnff manages a shrug, gesturing to the deactivated system.

The War Buzzard(tm) rattles in the wake of the shock waves. Guidance systems useless in the storm of debris, it spins out of control.

"No amount of military hardware has this kind of punch!" bellows South, gripping his seat.

"It's that psycho bot!" Geronimo shouts.

"Must have found the reactor," agrees Gladius, hanging on.

South looks to them questioningly. As the pounding subsides, Gladius deftly works the controls, firing the AttiTooters(tm) to stabilize the path of the War Buzzard(tm).

High Commander Supreme Snoyan storms onto the bridge.

"What the hell is going on?!" she demands, racing up to Itchtrong. "I was thrown clear across my cabin!"

"I didn't do it, Snoyan! That grandiose explosion initiated from a source on the planet. Our charges may have gone up with it, but I didn't trigger it."

"You better be damn sure, Itchtrong, or it's your neck!"

The Colonel stabs a finger toward the disabled detonation sequencer. Snoyan spies the winking green safety light on the console. She snaps her gaze back to Itchtrong. "So help me, Colonel, if things prove otherwise your career has ended."