Orion's Testicle

Final Chapter - The Rescue

“There!” Patrick exclaimed. “The Prison!”
He pointed off into the distance.
Scottle glanced through the vision port, squinted and sighed.
“That’s the cuttlefish aquarium…again.” He frowned. “Quite how you manage to do that eludes me. I was almost entirely sure we passed that.”
Walker brought up a travel guide on the ship’s computer. He searched out Orion’s Testicle on the database to look up directions.
The screen hummed in an aesthetically pleasing way, before text infiltrated the display. It read:
Directions are something of a problem on Orion’s Testicle, since on the planet any conceivable direction you can think of is referred to as ‘left’ by the people. This is based on the principal that if you keep going ‘ left’ (any conceivable direction) you will eventually circumnavigate the globe in every single possible way and thus you must reach wherever it was you were trying to get to in the first place. People have mistook this idea and reported that Orionan’s are untrustworthy, but in fact if they followed the directions through they would definitely reach their location, at least at some point in the century.
“Well, that helped.” Walker imputed sarcastically.
“I know which way, if you’re wanting a hand, dear.” Anna said.
Walker heaved a huge sigh of relief and smiled at Anna.
“Thank the Whelk in the cosmos! Which way?”
“Left.”
“Then after that?”
”Left.”
“Then?”
“The second left.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake.”
He put the ship’s engines on all ahead full and they rocketed off into the distance.

* * *

The engines screamed as they slammed to a halt in front of the ominous, almost monolithic form of the Orionan Federal Prison. They then whirred back into life shortly while Walker insisted they parallel park so he could avoid a ticket.
The access ramp of the ship slammed downwards, crushing a tortoise with the unusual sound of metal pipes buckling.
The gang ran out, armed to the teeth. Anna carried the Black Bazooka, a weapon that creates a miniature black hole momentarily, a weapon that sucks its target into non-existence. Megan carried an under-slung
Gatling Mega Laser, complete with high intensity modifiers fitted. Scottle had an Incinerator Beam, capable of unleashing the scorching temperature of a supernova onto its opponents, and with a separate setting, toasting marshmallows after a good day’s slaughtering. Em carried the X-Treem Rail Gun Mk IV, the highest velocity, most horribly overpowered slug weapon in the galaxy.
Walker carried his two trusty blaster pistols he’d had for years, they came in handy whenever Max got in a sticky situation. He had never had to use them, the threat was always enough, but he figured he’d have to today.
Patrick had a trowel.
“Where did you get all these high tech weapons from anyways?” Em inquired.
“Car boot sale.”
“Oh.” Said Em, making a mental note.
“Oh no, Mum got me the trowel.” Walker said. Something blinked and emitted a sonar beep in his pocket.
“What’s that?”
“It’s Max! He’s nearby!”
Anna stepped close to the tracker, peered at it then looked at Walker.
“Wow, he has a beacon in case of emergency?”
“No, he just got tagged when he was sold as a pet in the Agrigam system. I had to buy him back.” Walker explained. “It is useful though.”
Walker flicked a switch on the tracker, and a screen came up, showing max as a blip on a map.
He’s right behind that wall!
Walker pointed towards the prison.
A guard was stood right in front of the entrance.
“We need to get past that guard.”
“Why? You said he’s just behind that wall! Let’s just blast through it!” Meg cried.
“Ah, good point.” Walker agreed. He fired his blasters at the wall.
Quicker then the eye they deflected off the wall and seared walker’s hair off.
The guard, who had noticed the gang moments before, sniggered to himself.
“Ha. Stupid teenagers. These walls are more than the usual walls. They’re extra tough and shielded against any weaponry you can think of.”
“Oh yeah?” Anna shouldered her bazooka and unleashed a bolt of darkness towards the wall. It soared through the air, screeching as it bent the reality around it. It hit the wall, slid down and collapsed like a flan in a cupboard.
“Oh, very impressive. A black bazooka eh? We get them all the time. Barely leave a scratch.” Chuckled the guard.
“Meg!” Anna nudged her. “Fire!”
Meg fired her gatling laser at the wall. White hot bolts of intense photon energy coursed through the air and slammed onto the wall. They ricocheted off in what Anna later described as left.
“Gatling laser? Bah! Pretty standard weaponry, don’t you think?”
Anna could feel her frustration mounting.
Scottle tried his weapon. The weapon squealed as the flame reached the wall, wreathing it in fire. Smoke billowed and billowed from the wall, but as he stopped not a single dent was made, merely the finish was taken off and the wall scorched black.
“Em, use the rail gun on this guy.” She said.
Em looked at her.
”I can’t just…kill a guy like that! That’s horrible.” She said, looking sad.
“Well fire it at the wall then! We need to break through!” Anna replied.
Em fired at the wall, closing her eyes.

No ricochet. No smoke. No rubble. Just a three centimetre wide hole where she shot.
Anna couldn’t contain her anger any longer.
“GRRR, it’s impossible. Let us just give up. Max can rot for all I care.”
Patrick threw his trowel at the security guard, knocking him unconscious.
“Or…we could do that…” Anna stated.
Walker moved swiftly towards the recumbent form of the guard and took some keys off him. Sadly, he couldn’t find a piano nearby to put them in so he took the security access card he had instead.
“Ambiguity rocks, don’t you think?” Patrick said to Em.
Walker motioned to the gang to follow him inside the prison. They sidled against the wall of the room Max was in.
With another quick motion to the rest of the gang, Walker stormed into the room, guns pointing at anyone around.
What he saw made him and the rest of the gang drop their guns and their jaws.
It was a scene of utter torture. A scene of primal brutality. A scene in the nightmares of the honest, working man, a scene of such bloody minded cunning and sickly imagination. A scene that would crush the soul of a holy man. A scene of such calculating malice and evil that the gang could only watch in horror.
It was an office reception. A beige one.
Megan fought back vomit. Patrick told her to think of yellow waterfalls. She vomited.
A rough looking Max span around on a chair.
“Hey, what’s all the fuss, can I hel- Walker?” he suddenly shouted.
“We’ve come to rescue you from imprisonment.”
”That was three weeks ago. What took you so long?”
Walker looked at him then at the ground.
”Yes, well…we had a little trouble getting directions.”
Walker felt a little awkward. He hadn’t shaven in a while, and he was beginning to look like Whalley.
Anna’s hair was a mess, Em’s clothing was dirty, and Megan smelt faintly of almonds.
Strangely, thought Walker, Patrick was the cleanest he’d ever been.
He felt stuck for words.
”What have you been doing?” he managed.
Max filed in a report into a cabinet.
“Well they forgot I mooned the entire planet the Friday before last and they forgot who I was the next.” He smiled. “But you guys are slow, so I eventually resorted to getting a job in administration here. Pays average, meet people, regular hours. It’s been hell.”
“Sorry.”
“No worries. Did you bring the Hunk of Junk?” he queried.
“Yeah, that’s how we got here.” Anna said. “But this doesn’t make sense. If you’ve been forgotten what about the other inmates? Surely they would have seized the opportunity to escape? And you’ve only got five digit hands! Surely they’d notice that!”
”They did, I said I lost them in a horrific welding accident. And you’d think the inmates would leave, or at least, I did, but on the Friday they forgot about me the other inmates seemed perfectly happy to stay in the prison as long as they weren’t any trouble to the guards and that they could look forward to a nice weekend. Weird really.”
Max got his old captains coat on off the hanger in the corner and put it on.
“Well? What are we waiting for?” He said enthusiastically.
The gang sprang to action, and made for the door.
“And where’s that bearded chap you were with?”
”Oh.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Whalley adjusted the bronze wok on his head to his favourite angle and cursed to himself when he couldn’t find his sunglasses. He had tried to get out of the ship, he had tried to find his way out himself and be polite, but he kept ending up facing the cuttlefish tank in the mini-aquarium at the back of the ship.
His next attempt was to get out of the ship ‘as the crow flies’. He’d go in a straight line as best as possible, and see if there was an escape hatch, a door, or an access ramp he could squeeze through.
That was when he got the first whiff of the fumes.
He remembered how much fun he had partying with those mermaids that just seemed to appear, and how special it was that he got to meet Jimi Hendrix, that he’d made the effort to come see Whalley despite being dead for all these years. He liked the way everything had looked pleasingly purple.
But he was becoming immune to the fumes now. Either that or the fumes had changed.
Banana hammocks, he thought.
He didn’t have time to reflect on this notion as he discovered an invitation to a bikini party in his hand.
Before he could show his surprise the chauffer was already holding the door for him to get out of the car.
He thanked him politely and wandered in.

(copious amounts of *’s )

The Hunk of Junk shone brilliantly as it escaped the final layer of clouds above Orion’s Testicle.
The seas below roared aggressively, and the seas below that erupted and eddied with wave upon wave of teenagers.
Pip, Anna’s father, was in her back garden, drying the laundry on the line.
”Pip darling?” Her mother called from the window.
“Yes, Agony?” he replied.
“I really think we should do something about Anna.”
“She’ll call, don’t worry.” Pip reassured.
Pip’s mobile went off.
“See? You should have more faith in her.”
He flipped the phone and put it to his ear.
“Oh, it’s a message.” He said, after a few seconds of silence.
He fiddled with the buttons, fumbled the phone, dropped in the pond, fished it out again, removed the weed, dropped it in the pond again and got Anna’s mum to help.
She flicked the message open.

Hi Mum,
Gon Into Outr Spce. Met nyce guy. Svd Plnt frm totl dpreshun.
Wnt b bk 4 a few yrs. Broke ketl. Ptrick is stll alve.


Lv Ana.

“See! I told you she’d be alright.” Pip smiled.