Something I wrote on the train...

I
'Do not run after consumption.'
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj- Instructions on a Sprite bottle.

Peter Gabriel was very much a victim of miscommunication. He had decided to start the day with a quick jaunt in a bar on Centauri Minor. At the time equilibrium had been quite stable; at least until Conner Crevin graced the doors. Old Conner was a celebrity after all - a veritable Arthur Fonzarelli of 50's pop-culture. Equilibrium could do nothing but swoon under the raw sexual magnetism of his elastic hips. When he walked across the floor his synthaleather jacket glistened in the light of thumping holosongs, his quiff erect, as if probing the room for totty of the highest order. Our man was ecstatic when the shining epitaph of luxury took a stool next to him; and when the position of 'wingman' made itself available, Peter's mind was flooded with images of triple-breasted vixens from other worlds, free flowing measures of booze, and enough lines of synthacoke to accurately depict the workings of a light-drive. He didn't so much agree to the proposition, rather drool appropriately; which would have done quite nicely in elevating Crevin's allure in front of any languishing nymphites.

jjjSo imagine Peter's disappointment when he found himself drifting along the drabberies of space, confined to the left-flank of a convoy like some rotten Freelancer! Of course he could have changed his mind; but when approached by an executive of Everset, one doesn't say no – one drools appropriately.

jjjBack in the good old days, people used to think space was rather exciting: the unexplored depths of infinity and all that; but when mankind finally discovered how to take to the stars, it wasn't long before they realised that infinite stretches of nothingness are actually quite dull. The late Harrod Karl had once described it as shockingly similar to riding a train to Hull, only with proportionally less crazy people.

jjjAll of this however was quite lost on Peter, who had discovered the guidance system on his CPU could be used for viewing pornography. Intergalactic marvels filled his viewing-panel, stars flew past with unimaginable regularity, and our noble protagonist found himself fixated on a heaving pair of synthaknockers.

jjj'That's really something,' the right-wingman, Rex, commented over the radio.

jjj'They truly are,' agreed Peter, little in the knowledge they were both referring to the same set of somthings.

jjjWith all of this admiration going on, it seems the two pilots made a fatal error. Flying in formation is a risky tact: on the one hand, it leaves your hands free, relatively speaking. On the other, it relies on someone else being behind the wheel – a requirement neither men were currently fulfilling. As a result, when they reached the final jump-gate the two ships plunged through to the other side at speeds that would articulate light, if only to give it the brief convenience of saying, 'Cor blimey,' before going back to whatever it is that waves do.

jjjMost people are aware that Force = Speed x Mass. So when a collision occurs in which speed can only be recorded as the number at which light gains cognition (H. Or Harry's constant), things get interesting. In this instance, Rex's ship and the Flagship Aurora became interesting in a radius approximately that of the known universe in the 21st century.

jjj'Cor blimey,' said Peter, slamming his reverse thrusters into effect. 'That was interesting.'

jjj'That was our fifth pilot this week...' came a voice across the radio. 'Looks like it's just you and me.'

jjjThis time Peter decided not to join formation, instead hovering in front of his sister craft as though the two were having a conversation.

jjj'So...' said Peter, liquid propellant clouding his viewing-panel. 'What's up?'

jjjThe exaggerated moaning ceased, and the CPUs screen quickly flicked to that of the newly promoted CO.

jjj'This is Dahlia Cal of the fighter-ship, Piranha. Freelancer, were you informed of the mission objectives?'

jjj'That was rather dull,' thought Peter. 'No I was not,' he said.

jjj'We're hunting a known fugitive in the area. He's been evading capture for six standard-months, and we've been authorised to terminate him.'

jjjPeter waited a moment to see if this was leading up to something, when it didn't, he simply shrugged and said, 'Ok?'

jjj'Reports suggest he's in sector B3. We should check it out.'

jjjSpace travel is considerably slower without jump-gates, barely enough to articulate even a piece of fruit for that matter. So the drift between chasmous destinations seemed unbearably longer; especially with the relationship of the two pilots bearing an uncanny resemblance to that of strangers waiting for a bus together. So when the empty readout screen finally tagged a ship belonging to the infamous (so infamous that Peter had never heard of him) Vordinal Slerp, silent air pumps were performed in the cabin of our hero.

jjj'Vordinal Slerp. This is Captain Cal of the Everset republic. You have been authorised for capture. Please power down your engines.'

jjj'What are you talking about?' said the fugitive in a voice fitting of a Lethal Weapon villain. 'You can't do this to me! I'm an ambassador!'

jjj'Power down your engines or we will be forced to disable them.'

jjj'Yeah!' added Peter, quite unnecessarily.

jjj'You can't do this to me! You can't-' but his voice was interrupted by a crackle of static, or more likely the tachyon torpedo that had just slammed into the side his ship.

jjjVordinal took off, attempting to join a cloud of hydrogen that was listlessly making its way across the void, but was shut down once again by an accu-EMP. His only option was to fight...

jjjWhat followed was a battle of epic magnitude. Lasers and torpedoes made from theoretical particles streamed in front of Peter, who spent the duration swooping and diving through the chaos, looking impressive but not actually helping. Theoretical particles were expensive after all: he had never been able to afford tachyon before. Now that his ship was loaded with it, he wasn't about to show off his ineptitude by blasting thousands of credits towards the nearest star. If all went well, he might even get a medal for participation!

jjjLuckily for Peter, all that 'evasive manoeuvring' seemed to have paid off, because not only did Dahlia disabled her target's engines, he was still alive, and doing a damn good job of it.

jjj'Vordinal Slerp, you have been designated for termination. Prepare to die.'

jjj'No!' cackled the radio of the useless ship. 'You can't do this! While either of you are in the employ of the Everset Navy, any actions carried out against this vessel are a direct violation of the treaty! This will be a declaration of war!'

jjjDaria paused coolly, her face smirking upon the intercom.

jjj'In that case... Freelancer, your contract is terminated...'

jjjWhat!? thought Peter, who had been calmly picking his nose. Who in the Hell dpt. did she think she was thudding him in the middle of this mess?! Then again... who was he to ruin a perfectly good one liner? As far as Freelancing goes, one-liners were law. Still... it was a lot of tachyon...

jjjHe sighed and pulled the trigger like any self-respecting protagonist should. 3000 credits flew out of the end of his launcher, reducing the vessel ahead into nothing but fire, twisted metal and a radio message announcing, 'NOOOOOOO!!!'

jjjPeter sat back in his seat. It was pretty cool he supposed - the whole terminated bit. Then he realised that if the contract was terminated he might not actually get any money... He turned the radio frequency back to Dahlia. Nothing. She had ditched him in the void.

jjjFor the second time today, Peter Gabriel found the bloody spear of miscommunication poking out of his abdomen. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of treachery.



Back in the good old days when the Sol System was still the happening place, a person would have forgiven for believing in a monotheistic religion. They might have even been considered darn right normal. But like a lot of things, religion changed when mankind took to the stars. It didn't take long for humanity to realise that managing solar systems accumulates a lot of admin; an ungodly amount, as it were. So it would seem that any deity forced to slave over all the universe and all the planets would have quit a very long time ago – perhaps even signed their resignation with a deity shaped splat on the pavement. For a while this was a religion in itself, until the human admins went on strike, and everything quickly collapsed. So it was that the Church of the Board of Gods was established – a religion that preached good filing, ease of printers, and condemned embezzlement with fines only calculable by the Hell department (which was coincidentally the largest of all departments).

jjjIt didn't take long for the gods to appraise their new Office Temple, and humanity was delighted to learn that their church was to be the boardroom of the Coalition of Gods. While their plans were never uttered to human ears (the teaser trailer for Holy Bible: The New Testament 2 had just been released though – also known as Bible 3: Galaxy Conquest), a congress of the highest beings in the universe gathered in a board-room one dimensional-plane below theirs. They did not receive orders from the Gods, but they sure as Hell dpt. didn't go against them.

jjj'So,' said Mr Parsley. 'As we are all aware, the time draws near.'

jjjUniversal heads nodded in agreement like some all powerful Churchill.

jjj'Oh yes...' said they.

jjj'And as we know, this time marks the end of human dominion. The Status Quo is about to picked up and shaken violently, until all that remains has been shaken to the point of destruction.'

jjj'Violently shaken,' agreed the lesser heads, making full use of their bobbing ability.

jjj'And is our pawn in place?' said Mr Parsley.

jjj'Yes,' confirmed Mr Nana, 'he is now a wanted criminal of all nations. It will not be long before he is pushed into the hands of rebels and open war dawns upon them all.'

jjj'And when the empires crumble?'

jjj'We shall be on the top...'

jjj'Very good, Mr Nana,' said Mr Parsley. 'Very good indeed.'




Peter Gabriel hurtled through space at speeds of up to 5H. He passed light by so quickly that even his sensitive equipment couldn't pick up its cockney declaration.

jjjPeter cruised on an unestablished principle. The basis of all faster-than-light travel was recovered from a High-School notebook from the Dead Age. Not only did this invaluable text contain the mathematical, logarithmic and engineering information required for a light-drive to function, but being a high-schooler's notebook, it also contained doodles... lots of them.

jjjNeedless to say, the first drive was constructed sans-dirty pictures. Unfortunately for the future of mankind... this did not function. It seemed the mathematics and theoretical quantum physics had become so interlaced with drawings of dongs, cars and guns that the two simply could not exist without one another. Humanity was yet to shake hands with an alien race, but no doubt if they did, the light-drive would cause any extra-terrestrial to wash theirs afterwards.

jjjBut Peter wasn't really concerned about all this as he hurtled through the man made jump-holes that looked disturbingly similar to... well let's just say they'd been compared to a Sarlacc: he was more worried about tracking down that liar Daria and securing his pay. Her vapour trail had long expired, but as it followed the road back to Centauri Minor, that's where Peter was heading.

jjjThe planet's fortifications loomed up in front of him. Lots of ships, and guns, and things of an explosive nature; but what did Peter have to fear? It's not like he was a pawn in some board of demi-gods evil plot or anything.

jjj'This is Freelancer Peter Gabriel back from a mission with the Everset navy. Request permission to dock.'

jjj'Roger, this is Planet Centauri Minor docking platform. Please wait a moment while we check your ID...'

jjjMoments passed; Peter did not.

jjj'Shut down your engines. You are wanted by the Everset navy for assassination. Make a move and you will be destroyed. Have a nice day.'

jjjEver the thinker, our hero took a moment to quietly reflect his circumstances.

jjj'Oh toss,' suggested his epiphany.

jjj'Oh toss indeed,' agreed Peter.

II
'Warning: Volatile when shaken.'
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj - Message on a Sprite bottle.

Various Sly was a man of many measures. Some called him a scoundrel, others called him a hero. Most described him to be 5.8 at around 160lbs with the most enigmatic green eyes they ever had the pleasure of gazing into. Few of these people were taken seriously on police databanks. So you see, Various Sly was a harbinger of both good and evil. The only consistency one could find by sipping at the bubbling soup of his morality was victory. So had Peter Gabriel known that his name had just popped up on the bounty-hunter’s list, he probably would have said something along the lines of, ‘Oh toss,’ which conveniently, he was already in the process of saying some light-years away.

jjjjVarious smirked as he ripped the top off a synthalemon, guzzling the insides. Little did he know, his short debut was already coming to an end. Old Sly may have been a man of many measures, but there was still one role he could not fulfil. To find our true protagonist and saviour, we must look in a very unusual place – a place where leading roles are seldom found (with the exception of Jayne Eyre). This particular hero happened to be located in a box of synthalemons at the back of Various’ ship.

jjjjScience cannot explain everything. There are many mysteries of the universe that would leave a rational man scratching their head, and an omnipotent admin swearing loudly and having to stay after work. These are instances referred to as miracles by humanity, fuck-ups by deities, and the convenient misplacement of plausibility by myself. This instance was amongst the more miraculous.

jjjj‘What is this place?’ asked an anthropomorphic lemon, who despite being typically chatty at 3.5H had come into existence from the plastic shell of a synthalemon mere moments before.

jjjj‘Pfft!’ cry you overindulged 21st century connoisseurs. ‘That is hardly an impressive miracle in a universe where things become articulate at high speed! Why, in our very folklore we have a chap named Pinocchio who did that exact thing; but had a nose growing problem that made him all the more interesting for it! I am not impressed by your spontaneously existing lemon!’

jjjjWell then! you rather dislikeable reader who would penetrate the narrative for the sheer point of heckling me: perhaps you would be impressed to discover that not only is this newborn lemon the only one left in existence, he also died some 843 years ago! I’d like to see Pinocchio perform such a feat with his vulgar nose.

jjjjSo with the terms of the miracle laid out before him, the lemon found itself staring into the plastic faces of a thousand packed synthalemons. The fruit in question was used to being an outsider, but he had never seen such beings before.

jjjj‘Can you hear me?’ he said to the one ahead of him. ‘Are you alive...?’

jjjjThe shell remained silent.

jjjj‘Do you have a soul…’ he whispered fearfully.

jjjjThe ship lurched forwards to a speed of 3.6H, otherwise known as the point at which lemon shaped plaster-moulds become very talkative indeed.

jjjj‘Shaddap!’ Various shouted at the crate.

jjjjA sea of gossip engulfed Jerry; terrifying the poor lemon to the extent you would become terrified if a factory full of manikins suddenly became animate. If you’re wondering what you’re doing in a manikin factory – so was Jerry. Yet this incomprehensible natter quickly ceased with the realisation that a miracle had occurred.

jjjj‘Oh hello…?’ said a synthalemon. ‘Where’d you get the skin?’

jjjj‘The pulp! Ask if he’s got a pulp!’ chimed in another.

jjjj‘Quiet, Bif!’ it snapped. ‘So… are you a real lemon?’

jjjjJerry examined himself through means unknown.

jjjj‘I think so…’ he said eventually. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

jjjj‘Because Jef…’ it sighed impatiently, ‘a moment ago you were made of plastic.’

jjjjJerry paused for a moment, trying to make sense of this all.

jjjj‘But my name is Jerry…’ he said eventually. ‘Jerry Lemon.’

jjjj‘Hmmm…?’ said the synthalemon. ‘Well I’m Jif. Jif Lemon. You know? “Don’t forget the pancakes on Jif day!”’

jjjjJerry stared blankly… which is difficult to tell with a lemon.

jjjj‘I’m sorry. I can’t say I’ve heard that before. Where is this place?’

jjjj‘Why this is the hold!’ said Jif. ‘You know? the place in space-ships where they put all the synthalemons.’

jjjj‘And you’re… synthalemons?’

jjjj‘Why of course! Pilots have had to use synthalemons ever since lemons went extinct 400 years ago. We’re just lemon juice in a plastic casing.’

jjjj‘Cyborgs?!’ exclaimed Jerry.

jjjj‘Oh Sprite, no!’ he and the other lemons laughed. ‘We’re just simple every day, run of the mill synthalemons. Face it, friend. You’re the oddity here.’

jjjjAll this was too much for poor Jerry. He was a lemon in vast fields of limes – story of his life… But now the question was why. Surely there had to be meaning behind this lunacy. In the mean time, the dazed fruit merely waited, hoping that the fizz of the Holy Brand might show him the way. In the meantime however, Jerry was just a commodity in a crate; and if history has anything to say on the subject, this was no speciality of his.




Peter drummed his fingers impatiently as he waited for the planet’s armourments to come to a conclusion. If he was going to die… it wasn’t going to happen like this. For a start it was far too boring a way to go. It’s the space equivalent of being gunned down at a McDonald’s drive-through for not having enough change, only with more international espionage and conspiracy.

jjjj‘Ok…’ said the docking ring’s AI system. ‘Your black box seems to confirm everything you’ve just said. However, records indicate a discrepancy at the time of the one-liner. Please confirm the statement.’

jjjj‘Finally…’ Peter sighed. ‘“Any actions carried out against this ship will be a direct violation of the treaty!”’ Peter gesticulated wildly. ‘And she replied, “In that case… Freelancer, your contract is terminated…”’

jjjj‘Roger that. I’ve heard better. Scanning for verification…’ The AI scanned its databanks as Peter recreated a symphony of synthatechno using only the digits available on the extremities of his hand. ‘Error. Data on Dahlia Cal appears corrupted. Prepare to die. Have a nice day.’

jjjj‘Bollocks,’ said Peter; rightly so as well.

jjjjProtagonists have a mixed bag when it comes to luck: while it must be admitted that their everyday stroll typically turns into a disaster of apocalyptic proportions, one would be hard pressed to say they come out of it all that badly most of the time. So at this point Peter was feeling pretty confident in himself. As the opportunely slow missile tower began its rotation, our man had still not reached the conclusion of his drum beat. Unfortunately for Peter, he was not yet aware that one, possibly even two main characters had been introduced only a page ago; and that his place in this tale might be as short lived as half the people from act one.

jjjjBut this was not the case today. It seemed Gabriel had pulled a cashew from his mixed bag – a nut of good favour; the rich man’s nut. And speaking of rich men, our inactive hero was delighted to find his contact readout humbled by the presence of the one and only Conner Crevin. Precious seconds were gained as the platform’s aiming algorithms swooned under the raw sexual power of Conner’s limber hips – that or the tachyon torpedo that had just slammed into the side of it.

jjjj‘Get out of here, man!’ demanded a voice that would melt stone. ‘I’ll hold them off as long as I can!’

jjjjPeter didn’t need to be told twice. Well actually he did, because when told to escape by an ex-executive of Everset, one doesn’t comply, one drools appropriately. Lucky, our dashing saviour had been expecting this, and relayed the message twice. No sooner did the second communication arrive that Peter was already priming his pump and heading for the nearest jump-gate.

jjjj‘Wow… I can’t believe Conner Crevin saved me,’ Peter said to himself, completely disregarding the severity of his situation for the far more attractive prospect of becoming pals with a celebrity.

jjjjEver the shining bastion of heterosexuality, he found himself trying to repress some oddly favourable images when he saw the readout of a ship approaching at nearly 6H. It was impossible to measure, but had the appropriate equipment existed, a listener would have heard the following take place:

jjjj‘Cor blimey…’ but in a far more aroused tone than usual.

jjjj‘Hello there, Gabriel. Sorry about all that,’ said the incoming ship.

jjjj‘Wow… Conner Crevin is talking to me…’ Peter said to himself. ‘Thanks for saving me.’

jjjj‘Not a problem, old chap. I couldn’t leave you out there to dry. After all, this is partially my fault!’

jjjj‘So what’s the low-down? The dilly-oh?’ said Peter, failing to act cool. ‘Why is all this crazy shiz happening to me?’

jjjj‘I’m afraid you’re a pawn, my good man. Nothing but a set piece in the big-wigs’ twisted game. They needed a bloke to assassinate that pillock Vordinal without taking any of the blame. No dice I’m afraid… Your little escapade at the docking ring’s put us all in hot water. Colonies are about to declare war on each other. Not a pretty sight: we’ve got so many mashed up treaties this will be a regular Space War 3!’

jjjj‘Huh…’ said Peter, who was busy trying to suppress the sexual advances of his imaginary counterpart.

jjjj‘Only one place is safe now. My guys. The rebels! How do you think I got so damndably attractive in the first place? You don’t find yourself looking like I do on the side of ‘the man.’’

jjjj‘I bet,’ replied Peter, his face contracted in the aftermath of sucking the juice from a synthalemon.

jjjjConnor Crevin studied the contorted face on his comm-channel. The man before him was an utter dweeb. Could he really be the one they had been searching for?

jjjj‘He’s the one…’ Crevin uttered to himself. ‘I’m sure he is…’






Various Sly became concerned by the lack of noise coming from his hold. At his current speed, the synthalemons should have been nattering like a Corvellian talk show host! As it was, he could hear nothing but the noiseless undulations of space and a low moaning from his speakers. Something was definitely wrong.

jjjjVarious pulled out of the jump-channel before he came out the other side. He was now stranded in the depths of space; but at least it was safer than leaving the cockpit while flying. Scanners detected two life-forms aboard: perhaps a stowaway that had infiltrated his cargo.

jjjjHe proceeded to the rear of the ship, armed to the teeth with various weapons designed to strike fear into an opponent’s heart. Unlike traditional ballistic weaponry, fear is an emotional concept and therefore unaffected by air resistance or gravity. Whoever said fear is in the eye of the beholder had obviously never been shot in the back with a fear-pistol; although to be fair, synthafear is the only widespread ammunition available since the Kora Convention.

jjjjThe crate’s cover was removed tentatively, Various’ weapon trembling in his hand. What he saw appeared to be a regular crate of synthalemons… but the life-sign was definitely there.

jjjjThe bounty hunter decided to opt for the tactics of many a nameless sci-fi horror character; reassured that a genre had already been established. And where many a faceless doctor, grunt or civilian would find their arm ripped off, Various found himself grasping an odd rubbery, spongy surface…

jjjjHe pulled the lemon from amidst its plastic companions.

jjjj‘Hole… ee… shit…’ said the human, leaving him lexically disarmed for the next bit of dialogue.

jjjj‘Hello,’ said the lemon, almost shyly.

jjjjVarious was speechless.

jjjj‘You’re… a lemon!?’ he said eventually.

jjjj‘In the flesh,’ joked Jerry. ‘Most people’s first reaction is “You can talk!?” though...’

jjjj‘You can talk at 0?’

jjjjNow the fruit found itself equally confused.

jjjj‘How did you get here?’ said the bounty hunter.

jjjj‘To tell you the truth… I don’t know. I just sort of… was. I’m trying to speak to God; but seeing as you’re the only one who can fly this ship, it would be lovely if you could drop me off.’

jjjj‘You can’t speak to God… He’s on a higher dimensional plane to us!’

jjjj‘Sure I can. We just need to find the nearest vending machine.’

jjjjVarious Sly was a man of many measures; culinary crusader however was new to his list – and if he said so himself, it was an unwelcome addition.

III
' “They came and they ate us; but our seed had already been
planted in he who would refertilize our race.” '

The board room was deathly silent. Stillness penetrated the air. You could even pick up the exclamation of light-waves as ships hurtled by outside. The atmosphere in the room was tenser than steel. None spoke… Then the board members came in and things livened up a bit. In fact, I might even go so far as to declare them darn right cheerful. And why wouldn’t they be? Everything so far was going to plan.

jjjj‘You know, Mr Nana,’ said the chairman. ‘I dare say I’m feeling quite cheerful.’

jjjj‘And why wouldn’t you be, sir?’ replied the ambiguously named board-member. ‘Everything so far is going to plan!’

jjjj‘Quite right, Benjamin. Quite right.’

jjjjMr Parsley fixed himself a glass of water-nutrient. It had been filtered through the finest of reprocessing plants in the galaxy. This was no trivial decanter, rather a drink of gods amongst men. He stared down the lengthy table, the glowing faces of various higher-ups beaming back at him.

jjjj‘Our pawn has acted as we wished him to and all factions have engaged in war.’

jjjj‘Check.’

jjjj‘And Conner Crevin revealed himself to be a traitor to his people, and is now leading them to the rebels.’

jjjj‘Double check,’ said Mr Nana.

jjjj‘Excellent, excellent, excellent!’ said Mr Parsley. Things really were quite excellent. ‘So where do we stand now?’

jjjj‘The Everset Navy have been tailing Crevin ever since he left the planet’s patrol zones’ said Ms Flowers, an older lady of the ultra-hippie generation. ‘No doubt they’ll obliterate the rebels, leaving us to focus on more pressing matters.’

jjjj‘And if they find a way to relay our most brilliant of schemes?’

jjjj‘Not a chance. They are rebel scum and will be treated as such.’

jjjjMr Parsley took another sip of nutrient. Lemon flavoured. Zesty, he nodded with approval. He was rather enjoying today.

jjjj‘What left is there to say?’ he smiled at the other board members. ‘We are infallible. And far be it for me to say: you have all done an outstanding job. We will soon see our plan come to fruition! For nothing can stop us no-’

jjjjBut before he could continue, a cliché burst noisily through the door.

jjjj‘Mr Parsley! Mr Parsley!’ said Percy Pod, without elaborating.

jjjj‘What is it, Mr Pod?’ demanded the chairman, infallibility shrivelling up like an old cabbage.

jjjj‘He’s here! He’s finally come!’

jjjj‘So… this is it,’ said Mr Parsley, knowing full well the consequences of the ambiguous pronoun. ‘Do we know where?’

jjjj‘No sir. Only that he emerged several hours ago somewhere in deep space.’

jjjj‘Well!’ ordered Mr Parsley, splashing Ms Flowers with nutrient in the process. ‘You know what this means! Get to work!’ Those around him burst into action, but for the benefit of any metaphysical onlookers, he decided to elaborate with: ‘Kill Peter Gabriel…’




Peter Gabriel was in no mood to be killed. In fact, had anybody suggested such an action he most likely would have expressed a stern disinterest. Lucky then that he did not hear the pan-dimensional chairman, for the statement had been issued as an order rather than a suggestion; or if you want to get really technical, a convenient plot reveal. Either way, it was something poor Peter had nothing in the say of. At least he was happy at the present time, albeit in a very uncomfortable way for all involved.

jjjj‘Get out of my mind!’ he shouted to himself, the image of Crevin’s hips dry-humping his brain.

jjjjThis carried on for more time than our protagonist would like to admit, and wasn’t particularly integral to the story. So after hours of trying to eviscerate the mental picture, Peter gratefully watched the rebel’s asteroid drift into view.

jjjj‘Quite the place, ey Gabriel?’ said a man women wanted to be with, men struggled with new and confusing feelings around. ‘Built from the ground up in nearly six months. Been the base of operations for almost a year now. Have to keep moving, you see? Under the radar, as it were.’

jjjj‘It’s very nice,’ said Peter, keying in the routine sequences.

jjjjDocking this time around was considerably easier without all that conspiracy and murder going on to clutter up the whole process; and shortly, Peter found himself staring up at the inside of what looked like an armour plated service station. Those born after 2015 should disregard the previous simile, knowing full well that all motorway stops have been reinforced since 2012. The hero’s view however was made a little more bearable when he was led to the commander of this particular station: one Felicity Crumb.

jjjjHer hair flowed like the rivers of ancient Babylon. In her eyes were fixed two burning stars that radiated passion above that of the goddess Venus. Her face was set of marble beauty, doubtless proof of intelligent design. And it seemed as though her breasts were suspended by nothing more than happy thoughts.

jjjjThis was love: he knew it. Finally he had found a woman he could spend countless nights watching the stars with, spontaneously utter poetry to, or simply shag like the last two bunnies in existence. He prepared his opening line carefully.

jjjj‘You’re bosoms would arouse the gods themselves!’ declared he.

jjjjLuckily, our man’s heart rendering woo did not reach the ears of his soul-mate, for around them were cusped the gentle yet firm palms of Peter’s other love, who was in the process of sharing a kiss with his fiancée.

jjjj‘Oh bugger me,’ grumbled Peter, though he would no doubt have complied given the opportunity.

jjjj‘This is my girl,’ said Crevin, ‘and senior officer of this station.’

jjjj‘Felicity Crumb. I’ve heard great things about you.’

jjjj‘Oh yes?’ said Peter with genuine intrigue, his recollection of himself being nothing more than a compilation of loutishness.

jjjj‘I was surprised too…’ said the commander. ‘But if you are really the one we’re looking for… it’s good to finally meet you.’

jjjj‘So… Who exactly am I then?’ Since Peter was so frequently a victim of miscommunication, he decided he’d get things straight for once.

jjjj‘You’re the one, old boy! You’re the pawn. You’re the one who killed Vordinal. You’re the one who made the colonies declare war on each other. You’re the one who started this all. And you’re the one who’ll end it all...’

jjjj‘Ah…’

jjjj‘What he means is,’ said Felicity, ‘you’re the one every person in the galaxy is hunting after.’

jjjj‘Bloody brilliant,’ said Peter, in a fashion that made it very difficult to tell whether he was being sarcastic. ‘It’s nice to feel wanted.’

jjjj‘Listen old codger, the universe is at war as we speak. They’re shaking themselves to dust; and we have to make sure we make it through a ok – because if we don’t, those crossers up at the Coalition of Gods will declare supremacy like the rotten bastards that they are. It’s the bloody apocalypse wouldn’t you know!’

jjjjThe message took a moment to settle in: not only was it a shocking truth, it had come from a mouth atop the most chiselled jaw he had ever laid eyes upon. Then revelation hit him: harder than he had expected, almost painfully. Peter contemplated this for a second; then remembered the problem at hand.

jjjj‘Well that’s just fantastic,’ he waved his arms in an irritated fashion; not that such a mood was ever considered fashionable. ‘Not only are we all going to die; but I don’t even get a bloody love interest!’

jjjj‘Well we might not die…’ Felicity said sympathetically, placing a hand on Peter’s in only the way engaged love interests can. ‘There is apparently one person who can save us…’

jjjj‘And that’s me… right?’

jjjjThe rebel commander smiled softly, her ruby lips enough to calm even the strongest of huffs. Our man gazed for a moment into the face of divinity.

jjjj‘Then we’re doomed!’ he cried, throwing up his arms in a continuation of theatrics. ‘You know what? Sod this: I am leaving! If I’m going to die, I’m not having my last thoughts straggled between either of your luscious thighs…’

jjjjThis outburst was met with awkward silence, putting a sort of damper on the climactic finale. Then when sufficient time had elapsed that none could dispute the moment as uncomfortable, Conner Crevin spoke up.

jjjj‘I’m afraid you’re too late, old boy… they’re already on their way.’

Various Sly found himself rocketing down various Sigma b-gates under the command of an anthropomorphic lemon. It was a situation, if anything, he would describe as ‘untypical.’ Indeed, history appears to be lacking in great men piloted by fruit; perhaps because those who offer their services consequently find themselves too busy to record their day-to-day; or maybe because their opal overlords would not grant them the liberty of record. Lucky for this bounty hunter, his companion wasn’t nearly as dark as these sentinels of vitamin C. Indeed, being a lemon, Jerry was the brightest of yellows; and quite the free spirit as a result.

jjjjVarious had been on the lookout for a good service station for the last hour. He had told his oval cohort that such a feat was impossible; but regardless, Jerry had passed up stop after stop, until eventually they found themselves nearing the hyper-gate to Gamma Quadrant.

jjjj‘We can’t go much further, little buddy,’ Various consoled his pocketed chum. ‘The hyper-gates will be all locked down due to the war.’

jjjjThey swished past another nightmarish truck-stop, an epitomizer of the Hell dpt itself; though in terms of service stations, rather charming.

jjjj‘There’s only one left now,’ said the bounty hunter, eyeing the Little Synthachef logo with displeasure. ‘And it doesn’t look too fancy.’

jjjj‘Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing. But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised.’

jjjj‘It’s a bloody service station!’ cried Various, the profound words of the lemon not quite hitting their mark. ‘Why do you keep saying stuff like that anyway?’

jjjj‘I’m not really sure,’ mused the fruit. ‘Maybe it’s because we’re getting closer.’

jjjjA sign flashed past, reading ‘Star Break - 3 plancks.’

‘That looks to be the one,’ said Jerry.

jjjjAs you might not know, a planck is the smallest measurement of distance or size about which anything can be known. It is said to be roughly 1.616 x 10-35(standard index form); so when I say Sly had to swerve to make the turn, I make light of the event.

jjjjApart from his face being tugged three centimetres to the right, the outcome of this overzealous manoeuvre came into view: a destitute hovel, a synthaconcrete shack, unfit for any fruit or veg expecting to live a long and meaningful life. This is why it came as quite a surprise when Jerry said:

jjjj‘Perfect…’

jjjjThe inside was no less pretty – a grease trap of nausea inducing proportions. The bathrooms carried with them a rank odour; though a person peeking into a toilet bowl would find it pristine. Then upon leaving they would have to change their socks, because depending on the quality of fabric they were wearing, they would have accumulated more human waste than is considered attractive by most standards. And had any of you considered this to be the norm in public lavs… I refer only to the lady’s.

jjjjIt was in the genital opposite that Jerry sought his lord and saviour. A passer by might have wondered why they were selling soft drinks in a condom machine… but they would not have long to muse, for they would quickly find their feet becoming soggier than is thought to be comfortable. Jerry did not wonder, he merely gazed through the synthaplastic, and looked for a second time into the face of God.

jjjj‘Jerry,’ said the plastic-bottle deity. ‘My son…’

jjjj‘You remember me…?’

jjjj‘I have been carbonated for many years, my child. I remember lots of things. You are but one of them.’

jjjj‘But the last time I saw you, you were drank!’

jjjj‘I am Sprite. I am all Sprite; as I will always be.’

jjjjVarious felt very self-conscious at this moment, and not just because of the urine that was coupling with his sock. There are few people who have experienced being a third wheel in a conversation between lemon products; but those in the know would probably not speak fondly of the occasion.

jjjj‘Why am I here, oh Lord? How can it be that I breached the eternal bond that death gives unto us?’

jjjj‘To understand your purpose, you must first know the world around you…’ the bottle proffered sagely.

jjjj‘I know that humanity is at war, that I am the last of my kind.’

jjjj‘You may be the last of your kind… but this will not always be so. In you we have planted the seeds of a future. You are the prophet Jerry, awoken from the slumber of a martyred death to serve me once more.’

jjjjJerry bowed in the gravity of the occasion.

jjjj‘And how, Lord? How can such a feat be achieved?’

jjjj‘First, you must secure a future for your people… Then you can create it. You have an ally in the synthalemons. They will follow you. Seek out the one named Gabriel.’

jjjjSuddenly a customer walked into the bathroom, trousers hoisted around his legs like a veteran of public toilets. And as customers often do, he decided to purchase something. Seeing as the only vendor present was the condom machine, this became the subject of his attention.

jjjj‘Two bloody credits for a bottle!’ he cried in outrage, as folk often do when interacting with condom machines.

jjjj‘Well it is God,’ commented Various.

jjjj‘Hmmm,’ went the customer, making an impressed noise as he did.

jjjjSo it was that Jerry’s god was once again pulled out before him and consumed. The poor lemon watched in lament while the consumer cast them both a guilty look that said, ‘Don’t judge me.’ Or at least it would have done, had it been travelling at the appropriate speed.

jjjjWith that said and done, the refreshed customer turned to our doleful lemon, causing revelation to spark in his eyes. The man purchased a condom. Were that it fruit flavour… but no. Whatever association had occurred within this chap, it would be left there ad infinitum.

jjjjVarious went to console his soured pal.

jjjj‘We could always talk to the next one…’

jjjjHe turned to the machine. Out of Stock.

jjjj‘Bollocks,’ said he. Then he bought a condom. He would never know why…

IV
' “We were but one against millions. Little did we
know that hope was on its way.” '

The situation looked bleak inside the rebel base. Hundreds of nameless names prepared for battle in unison. Those on the ground were busy charging their weapons with synthafear. Stephen King’s IT echoed up and down the corridor as young freedom fighters read aloud. There was also the odd soldier attempting to muster genuine fear. People would hide behind doorways, leap out at their guns and shout, ‘Boo!’ – but the armaments had fallen for this too many times before for it to be effective. Indeed, there seemed to be no hope amongst these warriors of virtue; and had a way of extracting their own fear existed, they would have been amongst the best armed in the galaxy.

jjjjFelicity Crumb frowned as she paced the ranks of the oppressed, despondency filling her massive heart.

jjjj‘They do not expect to survive,’ she said to Peter, watching the pilots whisper in prayer. ‘I do not think they expect our victory either.’

jjjj‘Well what do you believe?’ said our protagonist, momentarily shifting his gaze from Felicity’s colossal heart.

jjjj‘I am not sure what to think… Conner seems confident in himself.’

jjjjThey watched Crevin deliver a rousing pep-talk to the pilots he would be commanding. Both characters sighed dreamily.

jjjj ‘He always is…’ said Peter.

jjjj‘So is it true you do not know why you have come?’

jjjj‘Not the foggiest.’

jjjj‘Then I suppose there is nothing for us to do but wait…’ Felicity smiled, wrapping a slender hand around Peter’s.




‘That’s odd,’ noted Various. ‘There’s not much to this section at all…’

jjj‘Of course. This conversation is but a breath before the battle,’ said his enlightened compadre.

jjjj‘Well that’s a bit pointless.’

jjjj‘Perhaps; but it also explains how we came to locate Gabriel, and about the synthalemons.’

jjjj‘Ah,’ said Various. ‘So how’s all that again?’

jjjj‘I have become enlightened since visiting God. I know all that I need to know.’

jjjj‘Oh right yeah.’

jjjjSilence pervaded the scene.

jjjj‘So…’ Various suggested awkwardly. ‘The synthalemons?’

jjjj‘Why don’t you do it?’ suggested Jerry. ‘You are the space-faring rogue after all.’

jjjj‘Okay dokey…’ Various cleared his throat to make way for his best scripture voice. ‘“So it was that with the second coming of Jerry, those formerly encased in plastic would awaken and become a reckoning force in the galaxy, fighting to restore equilibrium to its usual dull self.”’

jjjj‘I think that’s everything,’ said Jerry.

jjjjAnd with that out of the way, the scene of the battle was hastily returned to.



The rebel fleet hung deftly in the vacuum of space, knowing only that their lives would shortly be coming to an end. Connor Crevin cruised along the front lines, delivering a heartfelt speech through the intercom. Even equilibrium, which had been swooning non-stop up to this point decided to stop and listen. Conner’s words were both rousing and arousing to all those present. What a guy…

jjjjHe knew they didn’t stand a chance. He looked into the faces of all these brave young men and women and could not see life beyond five minutes… but he could see an ideal… one that was worth fighting and dying for…

jjjj‘Hey,’ began one of the pilots, ‘is that a miss-’ but was unable to finish due to an involuntary reduction to atoms.

jjjj‘How bloody rud-’ started Crevin, before he too was impolitely exploded.




Minutes later, Peter found himself firing wildly into a group of soldiers. Felicity stood by his side, sextacularly lethal in her regulation miniskirt. Her long legs shimmered in the arcing glow of tachyon. Her eyes burned reflectively of the fires all around: but there was no time for all that! There was a battle going on! Peter shot again.

jjjj‘WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!’ screamed his victim, fleeing the battlefield with a trail of urine dripping in his wake.

jjjjPeter performed an air pump as an explosion went off behind him– very cinematic from the right angle. Everset soldiers swarmed the base like fire-ants on an ignited picnic. Orbital lasers hammered down upon every hole the rebels had dug for themselves. The situation looked consistently bleak.

jjjjA man next to Peter was struck, defecating himself and running off to the bathroom. Allies were dropping by the hundreds.

jjjj‘It looks like this is it!’ cried Felicity, striking some Fear of God rounds into an enemy soldier who then ran away to became a priest. ‘Oh Conner! To think you gave your life for this!’

jjjj‘Not for this!’ rallied Peter. ‘He died to give us a chance! And if we don’t take that opportunity, then his sacrifice will have been in vain!’

jjjj‘You’re right, Peter! Maybe you are the one after all.’

jjjjA fighter ship zoomed through the caverns in an unnecessary but wholly impressive manner. Flames burst from its cabin as the vessel plummeted into a group consisting of both sides – even some conscientious objectors were crushed, who were only there in the first place because they could technically be described as rebellious…

jjjj‘Biggs! Wedge! Jessie!’ Felicity shouted into her radio. ‘Are any of you out there?’ But the only response she got was weeping. ‘My God… They’ve all been hit.’

jjjjShe turned to our hero to find him struck by a bolt of genuine fear.

jjjj‘NOOOOOO!!!!’ shouted she.

jjjj‘ARGGGGGHHHHH!!!’ he replied in terror.

jjjjPeter rolled about on the floor, expelling torrents of profanity that accurately described his sentiments at the present time. In the end however, the culmination of these lexical whoopsies turned out to be a garbled scream of fear. Felicity kneeled above him, tears welling in her eyes as though hit by a weaponized amount of synthasad.

jjjj‘Peter…’ she sobbed. ‘You’ve got to snap out of it. I can’t loose you too…’

jjjjThe fallen hero responded only with screams and swears.

jjjj‘Please, Peter…’ She picked him up in her arms as another conveniently timed explosion provided light for the touching scene. Peter whimpered as enemy soldiers closed in all around.

jjjj‘Please…’

jjjjNow… far be it from me to detract from the awesome power of the action kiss, but that kind of thing has always got on my knackers. It’s not like fear. Moments of passion can’t be bottled up into some kind of saliva transferred first-aid kit. They can only be used in low-budget aphrodisiacs! So I’m afraid that even though their kiss was backed by appropriately mammoth explosions and people soiling themselves, it was not enough to rouse Peter from his coma state.

jjjjNo. It was something else that caught his attention; as well as the attention of everyone else on the battlefield.

jjjjVarious Sly expertly piloted the tunnels of the rebel base, narrowly avoiding obstacles with the foresight of a prophet; but all the skill in the world couldn’t stop his vessel from bursting into flame for the mere purpose of making his landing more exciting.

jjjjIt ground across the floor in a manner not uncommon for this type of battle – in fact it was so typical that it went largely ignored by those unflattened. It was only when the hold cracked open and thousands upon thousands of synthalemons emerged that anyone thought it might be worth a glance.

jjjj‘Well that’s unusual,’ said Peter, suddenly sitting upright.

jjjj‘Yep,’ agreed the now established love interest. ‘You don’t see that everyday.’

jjjjAn army of plastic fruits poured from the cargo-bay door; Various Sly posing at the entrance like some space-age Moses. His minions swarmed over everything, consuming the base in a nightmarish shade of bright yellow.

jjjj‘Argh! My eyes!’ cried a nameless solider that had been squirted in the face. ‘It burns!’

jjjj‘They know no fear!’ screamed another, blasting hopelessly into the crowd.

jjjjThe tides of the battle were quickly turned beneath two-thousand cubic tonnes of lemon juice. It wasn’t long before Everset began fleeing for their lives.

jjjj‘Don’t forget the pancakes, bitch!’ taunted Jif.

jjjjThe rebels stared bewildered into the face of victory. It smelt a bit like the starter of an Indian meal. After a moment of stunned silence, they began the procedure or carting off those fallen to the infirmary; there they would enjoy an extended period of cuddling, reassuring words, and a recording of The Very Hungry Caterpillar as performed by Stephen Fry.

jjjj‘You saved us…’ Felicity said to the bounty hunter.

jjjj‘Don’t thank me. It was all this guy’s doing.’

jjjj‘Aww, thanks,’ replied his pocket.

jjjjFelicity looked confused for a second until Various pulled Jerry from his jacket. ‘Ah,’ she nodded, then thought about it some more and went back to being confused.

jjjj‘This is Jerry Lemon. He’s the saviour of all the lemons.’

jjjj‘Nice to meet you,’ piped the polite citrus.

jjjj‘You do know you’re a bit late…’ said Peter, wiping drool from his mouth he would claim was a result of the fear-bolt.

jjjj‘And you are Peter Gabriel,’ Jerry went on. ‘You are the one we have travelled many galaxies to find.’

jjjj‘It took bloody hours!’ added Various.

jjjj‘Cool,’ replied Peter. Being a victim of miscommunication and all that, he went on to say, ‘So why is this?’

jjjj‘Because you’re the one everyone in the universe is looking for.’

jjjj‘Oh yes, that’s right,’ said Peter, who had secretly been hoping his purpose was a little more interesting than pawn. ‘So why were you looking for me as well? just because it seems like the fashionable thing to do?’

jjjj‘Of course not. You are the one who will ultimately aid me in my quest.’

jjjj‘Oh jolly be,’ said our intrepid hero. ‘I do hope it’s not suicidally dangerous.’

jjjj‘We must kill the board of gods…’

jjjj‘Fabo…’ replied Peter, quite enthusiastically. ‘Faaaaaaa-boooooo…’