h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

A-HA were meanwhile piloting a dilapidated twin otter far out to sea somewhere over the South Pacific.

Too old to be a boy band and with little reccent single success a life of crime had proved too tempting and their little known piloting sklls had often been of inestimable value to Gonzaroolio and the Criminal Federation of Stage and Screen Talent.

Suddenly the radio crackled ...

"Morton - turn that crate around and head for the Bahamas - your contact will meet you there and give you further instructions"

With a shrug Morton hit the left-hand otter with his paddle and the banana box turned slowly and addopted a new course.

"Does anyone have any change?" Bob asked.

Jill looked up from where she was sitting, in a circle with the other agents, brainstorming. "What?"

"I said, 'Does anyone...'"

"I heard what you said," Jill interupted. "I wanted to know ...why?"

Well, I'm a bit thirsty, and I noticed this Coke machine back here, behind one of these tree-things. It was hidden by all of these vines."

"A coke machine?" Said Jill. "On this island, are you still sane?"

"No there really is one, saw it when Tim came into the clearing." Said Bob

"What were you doing back there?" asked Arthur.

"I was...um he - he...er...hiding." Bob finally admited.

"Show us where you saw it last" said heddingly seizing control of the moment.

"Alright." said Bob glad to have someone seem to take him seriously.

He turned and led the others back through the bush, brushing aside large swipes of ferns they emerged into a small clearing, more of a gap between the trees really. The plants had reclaimed this small patch and the grass was thick underfoot.

But there it was. A Big red machine, emblazened with the logo of the Coca-Cola company. Familiar and welcome; like the face of God. It was dirty to be sure and lines of condensation dripped down it's front and collected in the little tray at the bottom, birds bathed in this small font and vines climbed over it's surface but nevertheless.
"A coke machine?" said Arthur.

"Weird." agreed X

"Why is it humming?" asked Jill....


Back now on the beach, the Red Leicester was growing impatient. It had been over a quarter of an hour since he had last seen that effete incompetant and sent him to go and re-capture the the elite of Boutros's Agency. The Red Leicester had already shed his sullen winter garb and constructed a shade to shiled him from the worst of the noon-day's sun. "Very well", he thought "if you want a job done right you just have to do it yourself...

The Red Leicester had entered the forest.

Further up ahead the Agency all thought they heard a twig snap and ' wha...'he blood... e'll....doin'...p there?' come filtering through the leaves.

"They're coming, said Arthur with uncharacteristic alarm.

"Quickly! Follow that flex." said Guy.

The group each took hold of a length of the wire coming out from the back of the coke machine and plunged head-long into the heavy undergrowth. they could not have gone more than a few metres when Heddingly, who was at the front calmly walked nose-first into a large, grey and above all, solid wall.

"What's going on Heddingly? hissed Arthur. "He'll be here any monent now."

"It's a wall." said heddingly simply.

"A what? Wall. here?" said a stunned Jill

"Yes and some carpet tiles." continued Heddingly

"Are you serious?" said Arthur.

"Oh, absoloutly."

"Look", said Jill, "there's a door handle over there, sticking out from that bunch of ferns and vines".

She leant across and pulled hard at the heavy foliage it quickly became disloged and fell at her feet.
What the group now saw was a large red door set into the dangling roots and limbs of the forest.

"Is it open?" asked Bob.

Jill tried the handle and it swung inwards revealing a long set of dark and treacherous looking steps descending into the gloom. The flex led into a plug socket just inside. And now that the group looked around...yes, there were shapes to be glimpsed in the half light. A section of broken wall could be seen protruding through the rapidly advancing forest and Heddingly had been right. Dotted here and there about were some cheap brown carpet tiles and wasn't that a strip light hanging from the canopy...?

Through yet more vines, Heddingly thought he saw a screw, he gently pushed aside he leaves and revealed a sign suspended on the wall next to the waste-paper bin. It read:

U.S Armed Forces, Weapons Depot # 6

"ooh!" said Bob.....

Morton Harket eased the controls forward and plunged the float-plane into the shallow water of the island's natural bay. Surf fizzed up over the nose and Morton tugged at the two levers above his head to reduce the speed of the twin props. As its speed fell the plane sank lower in the water on its big banana-shaped floats and Morton was able to turn the plane in towards land. He raised his hand and pushed the accellerator levers sending the plane bounding over the gently undulating water. Minutes later the plane was wallowing next to a short wooden jetty and Paal Waaktaar-Savoy was outside tying off the mooring rope. Then Mague Furholmen opened the small hatch under the wing and allowed the passengers out.
They'd picked them up at Grand Bahama for the trip to this out-lying island and they'd been cooped up ever since. This had apparently been only the last leg of an arduous journey. Boutros, a very ugly woman in stilletoes, a clown with green hair and Zammo, formally of Grange Hill each thanked Morton, shaking his hand through the cockpit window. The plane was much lighter in the water now and the beach and jetty were crowded with clowns and D-list British actors. They were distributing weoponry from several crates that had been dragged out of the little plane's cargo-hold.

The Red Leicester had a private army. They were generic guards, without identities. They were people, of course, with wives and girlfriends and kids, but for narrative purposes, they were expendible. They were dressed in one colour, -black boiler-suits in this case, and they all carried rifles. You know the types, -they can fire hundreds of rounds at someone with a speaking role and not hit them, while they themselves are killed a few at a time during battle scenes or during sticky situations from which our heroes escape by the skin of their teeth. They are badies though, so its all right. Having made camp on one of the other beaches the Generic Guards were called into the forest by Leicester. They were drawing towards a target whose identity they had not been told.

Leicester clamped a megaphone to his fat mouth, and let go a deafening burst of machinegun fire, "You are surrounded, surrender and your deaths will be swift and painless!"

Bob and the others ducked as bullets shredded the canopy above their heads. They couldn't tell where the voice or the gunfire was coming from, but it was close. Then they saw the black-clad figures all around them, crouched in the undergrowth. Jill pushed Heddingly urgently towards the entrence of the arms bunker.
"We can't go in there!" he croaked.
"We have no choice," said Guy, "We're unarmed and trapped, -Go!"
They all ducked and entered the dark passage.

On the beach Boutros looked up sharply. He had just heard muffled gunfire in the distance.
"Come on!" he yelled to the crowd of clowns and actors. Shouldering a large assault rifle, he started to run up the beach.
Gonzaroolio got his motley outfit into order. Loyal to no one, he seemed to have changed sides on this one. It wasn't really his fight, but as they were here now, they would follow Boutros. The clowns and actors marched after him, watching as Boutros stopped to remove his stillettoes and then continue running over the sand towards the forest, gun in one hand and shoes in the other.

Bob, Jill and the others pushed forward and down the steps. In utter darkness they felt their way along the walls. The receding window of light that marked the open door way behind them began flickering as black-clad shapes passed in front of it.

"They're coming - go!" insisted Arthur.

"I can't see where we are going - it's pitch black in here." panicked Heddingly. "Wait..there something here.....it's not a wall...."

The heavy security door swung open, the huge dead-bolts set in it's frame had thankfully not been locked in place with a concerted effort Heddingly employed those powerful muscles of his which Jill quitely appreciated through his shirt. They all ducked inside and hid behind the door Arthur, X and Heddingly all put their weight behind trying to close it again.

It wouldn't budge.

"Oh you've got to be kidding." whispered an exasperated Arthur.



The Red Leicester stormed into the clearing, there he found a group of his Generic Guards camped outside a large red door which appeared to be just suspended in the forest

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? I WANT THEM FOUND AND DESTROYED!!!!", He screamed down the megaphone which he had forgotten to put away.

The assmebled Gaurds nearly jumped out of their collective skins.
"sorry." mumbled Leicester, motioning to Tim to take the instrument away.

"Down there are they?" he said.

"Yessir!" saluted one of the indistinguishable Generic Guards

"we'll see about that"....



The door still wouldn't shut. "The ease of it's opening is matched but it's absolute refusal to go back again." thought X philosophically.

"Um guys...have you actually checked where we are." said Guy.

Given the fact that the enemy was quite literaly right outside the door and that that door was neither fully shut nor were they sure it could even be locked it was fair to say that, "No." the group had not really taken stock of their surroundings. Which was a pity for two reasons. Firstly it would have made them feel a bit better and then suddenly a whole lot worse. And secondly because this thing that would lead to such a speedy reversal of emotions really was quite bad and on the whole it would just have served them all a lot better to have concentrated on the door....


Boutros feigned left. Gonzaroolio took the clownz right....


The Red leicester heard the sound of gunshots flare up from all around the forest, they were coming towards him , suddenly Vanessa Feltz and Uri Gellar burst through into the clearing.

Uri took out one of the black-clad guards with a shot to the head.

He lunged at the others but the guards responded and emptied a couple of clips at him.

His great telepathic spoon-bending abilities deserted him along with most of his internal organs and a quite collosal amount of blood.

"NOOOO!!" screamed Feltz, maddened at seeing her war-brother slain in front of her, she sumo-wrestled Leicester to the ground and proceeded to punch him repeatedly in the face.

Leicester fended of the blows with deft and deadly hand movements pausing obly to reach out and break the neck of his assailant. Feltz slumped awarkedly against the trunk of a tree.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Leicester berated Tim.

From further outside the clearing came:

"LEICESTERSCHNITCH KITANYA-IRRANIA-TATONYA-KARENSKA-ALISOV. " bellowed the war-cry

"Boutros...." seethed Leicester

Meanwhile Gonzaroolio had adapted incredably well to guerilla tactics in the dense greenery of the island. He felt he was born to this. "I AM Alexander The Great." he thought. "I AM Gehngis Kahn leader of the barbarian hordes." "I AM Stormin' Normin Shwarzkopf and General Wellington and William Wallace leading my trops into battle."

This was decades of repression and custard pies being excised on the field of battle.

"LET'S GO KILL SOMEONE...." he shouted behind him.

The assembeled mass of british Stage And Screen Talent trailed in his wake.


"I say", said Bob " That IS a big boiler isn't it? Well if we have to hold out here for a while at least we know we will be warm.."

"And we have guns." said Jill energetically, eying the rifles hung on a rack on the far end of the room. Well, 'end' isn't exactly right it kind of curved round in a big circle with this pipe in the middle. were the group had entered was a wide area set into the wall.

"Jill" said Arthur "Go and get the guns we'll pin them down as they come throught the door."

Jill did so and Arthur made sure that every one had a gun and that it was loaded.

Bob meanwhile wandered around to the side of the boiler and found
"A control panel...hey! Everyone look it's the on switch!" he said pushing the big red button.

High above them the iris opened and some long dead circuitry winked into life....


On the surface of the island a war was raging between the amries of the generic black-clad guards and the what shall loosely be termed 'The Good Guys' comprising Boutros, Gonzaroolio, The Clownz and the Assembled Stars of British Stage and Screen talent.
On opposing hill-sides the two armies now faced each other
The dead of each side littered the spaces below them. above them a storm was brewing out over the ocean , the skjies were darkening and it was promising to rain. The wind had picked up and all that could be smelt was the smoke from the cooling rifles.

Gonzaroolio and Tim controled the lines.

Boutros had gone to hunt-down The Red Leicester.


The Iris unpeeled like a flower and dust and wind drifted down dropping on the group making them cought and wheeze. The wind dislodged some old tarpaulin draped the boilers upper panels. It revealed a dirty, half-hidden words dawbed in red-paint down the side.

WARHEAD # 9

"Oh dear."

"It's a bomb..." said Arthur.

"A very big bomb." intioned X.

"This isn't just a bunker", said Guy "It's a silo."

It was at this supreme moment of distraction that The Red Leicester opened the silo door and shot Arthur.



Boutros stormed into the emptry space in front of the silo door. he gripped his pistol tightly in his hand. From down the steps he thought he heards a gunshot and shouting. Fixated on finding his agents he plunged down after The Red Leicester....

in 'New Camelot' the secret headquarters of the Knights of Arthur King a red light started flashing.

Arthur Conan Doyle crossed over to read the display " I say, Miller, one of our chaps has just been shot."

Miller sighed mournfully and started talking about death.

"Whats that you say Doyle", said Ransome showing an interest. "Which Arthur is it".

Doyle checked the display - "it looks like Secret Agent Arthur - in the US Silo, you know the top secret one in the west indies"

"Hmmm - isn't Arthur Brown around there somewhere - with that stars of stage and screen group" mused Ransome " with that Boutrous woman".

"Jamaica" agreed Doyle

"No she went of her own accord" said Askley, and got instantly pelted with nything that anyone else could reach ...

... Meanwhile back in the silo The Red Licster having charged in and shot Arthur had himself been surprised by a tumbling Boutrous Boutrous Marcos (whose high heels had been unable to cope with the treacherous steps)

Everyone looked in shoched horror as boutrous and the red leicester tumblled into the dark void below the observation platform where they stood

In the silence that followed the ticking of the bomb sounded ominously loud ...

Arthur suddenly coughed and in a gasping voice he croaked "X old friend here is something I must tell you befor I die ..."

Agent X knelt on the ground, gently cradling Arthur's head in his lap. Arthur weakly coughed up a bit of blood.

"What is it?" X asked softly.

"I..." Arthur paused for a minute to hack up blood and some greeenish-yellow phlegm. "I..."

"Yes?" X asked.

"I...stole your peanut butter."

"What?" X's voice dropped from a gentle caress to a flat surprise.

"In college... when we were roommates, and one day you came back ot find your peanut butter missing. It.. (cough, cough)...was... me."

After five minutes of hacking, Arthur was able to hear X's touching reply. "It's okay, old friend. I forgive you." A tear dramatically rolled down his cheek.

A peaceful smile appeared on Arthur's face. "Now ... I can... die... at peace..." His eyes closed.

"Is he..." Jill asked.

Heddingly looked at Arthur and said...

"No he isn't." said Heddingly stepping forward with determination.


Meanwhile, down in the dank pit beneath the No. 9 Warhead launching platform, Boutros and Leicester were stirring. Leicester was up first but his head swam dizzyingly. He could see Boutros slumped in a heap over in the corner.
Leicester tried to steady himself on the wall but misjudged this horribly and went tumbling head over heels and slumped against a the rim of the pit. He tried again, forcing himself up onto all fours, then his haunches and finally with a concerted effort unsteadly raising himself to his full height.

Boutros was gone.

He looked around quickly, regretted doing so almost immeadiately, took a deep breath then tried again but a little more slowly.

Nothing.

"Curse you! Where are you hiding now?" screamed Leicester at rather shifty looking patch of rust on the interior walls.

"I'm right here" said Boutros steping out into a dusty shaft of light from above. He appeared to be holding a gun.

Leicester froze.

"What are you going to do?"

"I swore I was going to finish this." said Boutros

"The shoot. I'm not afraid." he said closing his eyes.

Boutros did nothing.

Leicester waited.

He waited... he dared trying to open an eye.

Boutros was still there but the gun...yes, the gun. Now he came to study the instrument of his death a little closer, it did assume a rather...shoe like quality. In the half-light, the way he had held it threteningly by the heel had looked real enough.

"It's a shoe." he said out loud, surprising himself.

"Damn." said Boutros and ran back off into the shadows.

Enlivened, leicester stepped forward. The shadows hid all. He couldn't track Boutros by sight so he tried a different tack.
"I already took out one of your precious agents upstairs"

*gasp*

Leicester lunged.

And missed.

The was a syncopated scraping sound. As of someone dragging one shod foot across the floor whilst simultaniously trying to hop on one foot to put the other shoe back on.

"You won't catch me like that, leicester." said Boutros

"It doesn't matter. We are alone down here you can't evade me forever. And there's still the gun. Whoever gets to the gun last dies first." he suggested.


Meanwhile, upstairs...

Arthur was helped up by X a little unsteadily.

"How do you feel Arthur?" asked X

"I...don't know. I must have passed out. I feel...well...fine, I guess."

"It's a good job we had a doctor on hand. Heddingly patched you up a treat." said Jill wiping the dried lines of tears away from underneath her eyes.

"But I thought you were a nerosurgeon?" Questioned Arthur, his voice edged with concern.

"Look, don't question it. You're alive. so lets just leave it at that." said X, before punching Arthur squarely on the jaw.

"And that's for the peanut butter." He finished.

In the darkness, Boutros and Leicester stalked each other.
"You have been an irritation to me for long enough, Dr. Ghali," boomed Leicester's thick Russian voice.
Boutros hid in the darkness listening to Leicester moving around. His shoes dangled in one hand as he shuffled in stockinged feet. It really did look like one of them was not going to climb back out of this hole. Maybe that would be for the best.
"Well, its been a few years now hasn't it?" said Boutros. They'd been adversaries throughout the cold war but afterwards, Leicester the former KGB spymaster, had used the stash of secrets he had accumulated over his lifetime to start blackmailing the most powerful figures in the world. Leicester had become a key figure in the Russian mafia. His greed and the horror of his crimes had escalated. Boutros had dedicated his life to foiling Leicester's scemes.
There was a clatter in the darkness. Leicester bent to pick up the object by his feet. His voice came back brighter and mocking.
"I've killed you once before, haven't I Boutros? Maybe this time you'll stay dead."
Leicester was referring to the occaision years earlier when Boutros had met his nemesis on a hydroelectric dam following a plot to flood Leamington-Spa. Boutros had saved the town single-handedly, but the Red Leicester had escaped by hovercraft. Boutros had been gunned down by Leicester himself, and had plunged into the icy depths of the Leamington-Spa municipal reservoir. He had awoken weeks later as a cryogenically frozen head . His devoted apprentice, Guy had dived into the reservoir and recovered the body. Guy had carried his body back to the surface and back to their secret headquaters where using experimental freezing techniques, he had preserved Boutros's head. How often had Boutros secretly wished he had been allowed to die that day? And now this indignity of living with the body of an old South American woman instead of his own. Of course back then Guy ahd not been ready to take over the agency, but now he was, whether he thought so or not.

Above, on a rickety gantry, Boutros's agents had finally been pinned down by the Generic Guards. They had their hands in the air. From below a deafening gunshot echoed out of the exhaust well. Jill called down, "Boutros? Boutros?", but there was now reply.
"Quiet," said one of the Generic Guards, (one who had an equity card obviously.) He shoved the muzzle of his weopon at her in a non-sexual way. She pretended to faint. The others made a commotion confusing the guards. Guy sprang sideways and launched himself over the hand rail. He plunged down into the gloom, illuminated by sparks as bullets bounced off the metalwork around him.

Guy landed awkwardly on the floor of the silo pit next to a fallen Boutros. He reached over and touched him on the shoulder.
Boutros slowly opened his eyes and stared at him, his eyes were watery and vacant.
*cough* "Guy......not again...." he let out a deep breath and closed his eyes and lay still. Beneath him a slowly spreading stain was mixing with the rust.

Leicester stepped out of the shadows on the otherside of the room, he held the gun before him with a deadly determination.
"And so the mantle of leadership is conferred..." he said and pulled the trigger.

*click*

In the second it took for Leicester to realise the gun hadn't fired, Guy was already off his feet and over Boutros, he knocked the gun from Leicester's hand and sent it skittering off into the dark again. The pair collided against the wall.

Leicester was used to fighting. You didn't get to were he had gotten to without leaning to be able to throw a few punches, visciously beat your oponent into a bloodied pulp, knee-cap the poor unfortunate, before sending in the boys to finish them off with crow bars and then burn down their houses and offices. Typically this was a quite day at the office.

But as hard as he fought back he couldn't block the ferocisity of Guy's attack, spurred on by pain and a burning lust for vengence Guy beat the Red Leicester again and again with punches to the the head and body, scratching huge gashes above his brows and driving him ever backwards.
A huge swing caught Leicester on the chin and sent blood and some teeth flying, he responded by grabbing Guy throwing him into the wall of the pit and planting one of his huge boots spaurely on his rib cage.

Guy grunted and launched himself off the wall at Leicester, knocking him over.

Guy clasped his hands around Leicester neck and squeezed.

Leciester flailed wildly as his breath was crushed from his lungs, his gloved hand touched the barrell of the gun, lying just inches away from his outstretched hand. He could feel his strength ebbing away in his muscles. He made a desperate lung, reaching out with his fingertips. This time his hand closed around the length of the gun he pulled it towards him and with his vision swimming pushed the barell into Guy's stomach and fired.

Throught a sheet of blinding white pain Guy sagged but continued to press on the gangster's throat until at last the dark numb fog closed in and he drifted off into the black. Warm, dark and complete....

Arthur Robinson, X, Jill, Bob and Heddingly had their hands in the air. The guards were arguing about what to do. They really ought to have gone down to see if their boss was alright, but several of them were unwilling to commit to rescuing him bearing in mind that the bunker would be blowing up fairly soon.
X whispered to Arthur, "We really don't have time for this," he said, gesturing up at the warhead which was still ticking behind them. A digital display had winked on a few minutes earlier on the side of the bomb and was counting down, presumably to detination. It read a little under 8 minutes in ominous orange digits.

Arthur tugged the cuff-button from his jacket. He pulled the pin out and tossed it onto the floor amongst the guards feet. They looked down and stopped arguing and then each of them dove for the door. Once they were outside it the agents managed to push the heavy iron door closed again. Arthur picked up his button and dropped it into a pocket, making a mental note to get Mrs. Robinson to sew it back on for him later.
"Bob, you get some weopons togther, -X you see what you can do with the bomb," he said. He motioned to the others to follow him down the ladder into the exhaust well below the warhead.

In the gloom down there they could hear the guards above, who having realised they'd been duped were doing something to the door. Then came the roar of an oxy-acetylene torch. Jill produced a tiny Maglite. In its sparse light they found the three bodies, a large pool of blood surrounding them. Heddingly dove in, checking for signs of life. Boutros's eyes reacted to the torchlight.
"He's alive," said Heddingly, checking the strength of the pulse in the line of stitching in Boutros's neck that he had sewn himself only weeks before.
"It's Arthure here, old thing " Arthur said gently, stooped over Boutros's face.
Heddingly was examining the bullet-holes in Imelda Marcos's chest, "Looks like this body's had it," he said, "Back to being a head for old Boutros then, I guess."
Then came rasping words from Boutros's own lips, "No, ...no. Forget me, save Guy."
Heddingly and Arthur looked at one another, "He's gone," said Heddingly, his hand still monitoring the pulse in Boutros's neck.
Arthur took a deep breath and clenched his teeth.
"I've had enough," were Boutros's last words.

"I think Guy is alive," came Jill's voice out of the darkness.
The other two shuffled over. Heddingly looked him over. Guy had a huge hole in his torso through which his intestines were visible
"Barely," said Heddingly, "We've got to get him out now."
Jill checked Leicester's body, and though he appeared to be dead she pulled the gun from his hand and shoved it into her own waistband.
Heddingly was already advancing back up the ladder with Guy's inert, bloody body over one shoulder. Arthur followed with the torch in his teeth.
At the top, X was atop a step-ladder with his head in a hatch in the side of the warhead, "Its booby-trapped. If I touch anything in here it could go up," he said as the others emerged from below. The counter read 3 minutes 17 seconds.

Arthur stopped. 3 minutes. He had time...

He descended down the ladder quickly went over to Boutros inert body.
Choking back some hidden emotion from the others, alone in the dark pit Arthur whispered horsely,
"I will miss you....always. GoodBye." He touched touched Boutros on the forehead. Stood up and ran for the ladder.
as he climbed out he turned to Leicester and said
"And you? You can burn...."

At the top of the shaft the others were waiting.
"What took you so long? Said X. "The guards are almost through.", he indicated the thin yellow line of metaled metal that traced itself around the outline of the silo door.
With a crash the hinges gave way and the slab fell forward.
"DONT SHOOT!" came the cry from without.
"It's Gonzaroolio." said Bob.
"ARE WE GETTING OUT OF HERE NOW OR WHAT?"
Arthur and X both looked at the digital read out. 2m.00s, 1m.59s, 1m.58s
Arthur, Jill, X, Bob and Heddingly ran for the open security door. They charged up the long steel steps that led into the bunker and emerged blinking into the filtered daylight of the forest.

Gonzaroolio was stood against a tree. All around were his dishevelled soldiers (some of them on purpose, in deference to their profession, still wore the huge boots, green wigs and squirty flowers of clowns and clownz everwhere.)
"We've got to...go!" wheezed Bob breathlessly
"This whole place is about to blow-up - RUN FOR IT!" shouted Jill.

1m.10s, 1m.09s, 1m.08s


In the darkness of the pit, a low rumble awoke The Red Leicester. He rolled over and looked up into the boosters of the rocket.
he looked around Boutros was there but the other one had gone. He reached up and touched his neck. Bruises ran right around, where he had had the life crushed out of him.

46s, 45s,44s.

Another low-felt rumble sent a load of dust in the pit and the Red leicester hacked and choughted painfully.

30s, 29s, 28s.

"I'm going to die." he thought. Far off in the distance he thought he saw a bright point of light and closed his eyes.
"This must be the tunnel, he thought."
It was becoming uncomfortably warm...

20s, 19s, 18s.

Dying. He was now sure of it. With a concerted effort Leicester opened his eyes one last time and noticed how the light appeared to be advancing down now very fast indeed and looked uncomfotably as though it was on fire...

10s, 9s, 8s

"oh shi...

3s, 2s, 1...

The flames roared inaudibly, so loud you couldn't stand to hear them into the pit. A brief scream was obliterated as the rocket shifted upward, rising out of it's silo, the fire filled the rickety gantry where Arthur and the Agency had been. It blew out through the open security door. Spreading through the unexplored corridors, catching a few of the unlucky Generic Gurads who had decided after all to come and rescue their boss. It reached and melted through a door on which were printed the words. "Arms Store.".

The explosion lifted the forest from it's roots as the underground network of stores and depots ignited sending a huge dome of earth and trees high into the sky with a deafening sound.


...3s, 2s,1... Arthur burst through the leading edge of the forest and out onto the beach the others ran out hot-footed by the clownz and some actors. The blast sent them all flying off their feet. Arthur spun around and saw the rocket lifting off from the ruins of the forest. Very quickly it disappeared through the shroud of late evening clouds.

"Now what? said X in alarm.

"We've got to stop it!" shouted arthur above the wind, that had suddenly sprung up.

"What about Guy? asked Heddingly, I'll need to get him back to the Agency if I'm to have any hope of saving him

"How we're trapped on this island.

"We hitched a lift with A-HA said Gozaroolio gruffly. - we could..."

"No, there's not enough time." said Arthur.

"Look we just need to get to some shelter," said Jill, "it feels like there's a storm coming in."

Farther down the beach, Big Ben chimed the passing of the hour.

"I've got an idea" said Arthur....

Arthur ran down the beach and into the palace of Westminster with everyone else in close pursuit.

"No time to explain" gasped Arthur "I just hope that it's still there"

Heddingly, easily the best athelete of the group. soon started to outpace the others. As he caught up with Arthur he enquired "That what is still there old chap?"

By now they were pounding through the corridors of power. Since everyone had decided to take advantage of the unexpected tropical paradise the place was deserted.

No-one stopped Arthur as he charged through the large double doors and strode up to the speakers chair and pocketed something. He quickly russhed everyone out.

"No time" he cried franticly in a somewhat dodgsonian manner we must get to the top of Big Ben as possible

...

Mere moments later they emerged into dailigt on a small platform at the top of the famous clock Tower and Arthur handed the object he had pocketed to Heddingly.

Heddingly looked at the solid brass coloured ball that he had just been passed.

In the sky the rocket was obviously completing some complicated navigational manouver as it had hardly moved from where they saw it last. It was nearly 500 yards away but looked like it was just about ready to move away in a seriously fast and menacing (but non sexual) way.

"If we can hit the abort lever, just below the nose cone then the rocket will plunge harmlessly into the sea" Arthur explained. "If not the rocket will release the most deadly virus known to man"

He paused to let the dramatic impact of his words sink in

"As the worlds greatest bodyline bowler you are the only man who coud possibly make this work"

He looked at Heddingly - his face was grimly serious. "I know Its a long shot, but its the only chance we have ..."

Heddingly took the brass gabble from Arthur, felt it's weight in his hands. He looked out at the missile in the distance. Set his shoulders, said a quiet tribal prayer of some sort, reeled back his huge shoulder bringing his arm right behind his back and launched the ball at the rocket. It zipped through the air and completly failed to connect with the abort switch just below the nose-cone. Instead it neatly struck the navigational guidence switch just to the left of the abort switch sending the rockct into a neat 90o right-angle turn pointing it directly at the Houses of Parliament and the assembled group of Clownz, various actors and members of the Agency (Alive and Not-Quite-Dead Yet.)

"Oh, well that's just perfect." said Arthur. "You save me from being shot but now you are going to kill me with a missile."

"I'm sorry, my throwing always did tend to have a left-way bent." said Heddingly weakly.

The matter of seconds it took for the accelerating missile to reach the island was well just a matter of seconds. It soon passed over the heads of Arthur and the others and the virus compartments opened and a stale greenish wind swept down over them.
The missile, it's load delivered ditched itself in one of the larger sand banks on the beach head.

"Well it was nice knowing you." said Arthur reservedly to Heddingly."

"Mmm. It's sad to think things will end like this." concoured Heddingly

"Oh you two." said Jill with flat disdain. "I don't know what your moping about have you seen the use-by date on that thing?"

She handed Arthur a pair of binnoculars. Arthur wondered where she had kept these through out the hectic adventures of the last few hours but quickly droped that line of thinking and instead peered through the lenses at the crashed missile.

"Star Wars Project Use-By Date: 18-5-87 (material will automatically sterilise after this time and become completely non-lethal but may provoke strange and unknown symptoms such as the erruption of yellow and purple polka dot rashs on the hands and face and hysterical fits of laughter and a tendency to answer "Wibble" when asked the question why is you face purple and yellow and will you please stop laughing now?")

"Oh." said Arthur and turned back to Jill who promptly burst out in hysterical whooping fits at Arthur's new purple and yellow complexsion."

Heddingly tried desperately to supress a giggle but his lower lip trembled and it soon escaped into a full belly-laugh of immense tenor and bass. He was begining to change colour as well.

"Heddingly? Jill? Why are both of your faces going purple and yellow and will you please stop laughing at me?"

"Wibble." they both said in unison and promptly burst of in hild-like fits of giggles again.

"Oh good grief." said Arthur with an air of indifference. He left them both on the balcony of Big Ben. Went down stairs and eventually found after some strategic searching the warping device, a small metal box with a large red button. he pushed it and entered in the menu London, England. there was a flash of white light. The kind that leaves flashy purple patches on the backs of your eyelids. There now materialised in front of him a London underground schematic rail map. He selected Westminster Station, confirmed this on the keypad. And there was another bright flash of white light which left several MP's lounging on the beach, who were complete ignorance of the drama that had unoflded in the bunker, wondering how in the Devil's blazes they were going to get home again. At this one MP turned to the other and said:

"Wibble." and burst out laughing much to his friends bemusement.

In the centre of London, there was a flash of light and and noise that sounding something, but not quite like, a meraginue being blown-up and the Houses of Parliament re-materialised directly over the heads of some serious looking and (briefly) very suprised international news journalists who had been covering the building's dissapearence.

So potent was the effects of the missle that some of the contagion had been carried back with the building to London and had in it's descent managed to infect the new casters before sqaushing them flatter than something very flat indeed.
Upon arrival at the entrance to Heaven one of the recently descesed journalists was seen to inquire to St Peter why his face was turning purple and yellow.

"Wibble." said St Peter.

St. Peter drummed his fingers on the reception desk and invited the journalist to take a seat in the waiting area. This was very tiresome indeed, especially as he had a tricky administrative mix-up to sort out. St. Peter had several legers open on the desk and his assisatnt had just arrived with another pile frtom storage.
"I've been through all the 'G's, sir," said the assistant, who was chewing gum in a most unangelic manner, "He ain't on the list."
St. Peter called back the problematic individual who had been seated in the waiting area.
"Let's go through this again," said St. Peter, eyeing the individual over half-moon spectacles and consulting his notes, "Your name is Ghali, ..."
"Ah," said a ghostly Boutros, as a personification of a soul he was manifested with his own body, "No, it's Boutros-Ghali."
"Double-barrelled, I see," grumbled St. Peter. This was another of his pet hates. He gestured for his assistant to go and look in the 'B' section. "So, Mr, ..."
"Doctor, ...of law," said Boutros apologetically.
"Dr. Boutros-Ghali," St.Peter scribbled in his notepad, "You might be yourself, or you might be Courtney Love?"
"Imelda Marcos."
St. Peter massaged his temples.
"She's here too, -" Boutros pointed out the small South American woman in the waiting area. Imelda waved back. "I had her body you see, so I suppose we were killed together in a manner of speaking."
"Yes, yes. This is most irregular," scolded St. Peter, "And you were both supposed to have checked in here some time ago, -" he stared piercingly over the top of his spectacles, "but for the wonders of modern science."
"Erm, ...yes."
This was becoming an increasing problem with recent advances in cryogenic technology and it was playing havoc with his system. St. Peter had his own views but it was clear that what was required with regard to this issue was a definative policy statement from senior management. St. Peter slammed the nearest leger with a decisive thud, tottered into the back office and conversed with his assistant briefly. There was the familiar sound of the opening and closing of filing cabinat drawers. Then he emerged again and presented Boutros with a sheaf of paper.
"Fill in the form and bring it back to the desk," he said, and then his eyes were over Boutros's shoulder at the next client, "Next!" he snapped.
As Boutros turned his eyes met those of his young friend, Guy.
"Oh, no," said Boutros, "You're not supposed to be here, not yet."
St. Peter rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers as the two figures in front of his desk embraced each other happily. He set about putting his legers back on their shelves while the two chatted. A few minutes later the younger man vanished with a quiet 'pop'. St. Peter shook his head dispairingly as he imagined the scene taking place in some Emergency Room somewhere, as some jumped-up surgeon snatched another soul from the jaws of death and once more messed up his records.
"Next," he suggested to the assembled souls remaining in his waiting area. Vannessa Feltz and Uri Gellar were still puzzling over their forms and didn't seem ready.
A large man stepped up and slammed his form down on the desk violently.
"LEICESTERSCHNITCHKITANYA-IRRANIA-TATONYA-KARENSKA-ALISOV, " he growled angrily.
"Ah," said St. Peter. He slid the form towards him and examined it. Then he took a small rubber stamp from a stamp-tree on the desk and inked it at length on a red ink-pad. Gently he pressed it onto the form. 'DOWN', it stated in small blocky characters.
With a smile his eyes returned to those of Leicester. Before he could leap over the desk and attack St. Peter, Leicester was grabbed by the shoulders and led away by a pair of very burley angels.
"Next," said St. Peter.

Guy awoke to find himself atached to a variety of large and somewhat noisy machines most f which had flashing lights and some of which went ping.

His razor sharp mind instantly recognised that he was in an intensive care unit in a private medical unit and from the faint smell of diesel fumes and sounds of cockney newsvendors outide the window he deduced he was in London.

A white coated figure was examining him in a calmly professional and non sexual way "It was touch and go Mr Guy " he said "but I think you are going to be OK now. Some of your friends are here to see you"

The doctor turned to Jill, Arthur , X and Gonzadrillo " five minutes - no longer"

"It looks like its all over, old chap" said Arthur - "The houses of parliament have been restored, the Red Leicester has been killed, Tim is in a high security detention centre picking out his interior decor, the last few MPs have been ferried back to London by Morton and the boys, and the purple and yellow spots have all dissapeared "

"Wibble" said X - but no-one laughed

"Not quite", said Guy looking meaningfully at Gonzadrillo.

"Ahhh said Gonzadrillo, "You mean the Criminal Clown, Cryogenic Cloning Company"

"The what !" everyone choroused (in the sort of amazed tone that the moment demanded)

Guy sighed as he saw from the expression on Gonzadrillo's face.

Beneath his white face and exagerated mournful expression Gonzadrillo had turned pale and adopted an exaggerated mournful expression.

Guy's worst fears were instantly confirmed. He sighed the weary sigh of a man who has spent 36 hours in reconstructive surgery and 3 weeks in a coma but who is now going to have to find his shoes and save the world yet again.

"Are you going to explain or shall I?"

The letter read...


LISTEN CAREFULLY
This is very very important.
Go to the bakery at Barn street and ask for a Mr Smittington.
When he appears you must throw a loaf of Medium Milk Bread at him and run from the shop screaming. Go then to the ice ring and wait for further contact.

My mistake. Wrong postbox

Guy handed the document back to the clown.

"The Criminal Clown Cryogenic Cloning Company?"

"Yes." said Gonzaroolio guardedly.

"Hm-mm." Mulled Guy. "And Mr Smittington at Barn Street?"

"He's our front. In the basements beneath the bakery we have a network of scientific cloning chambers. It was one of our works-in-progress under Leicester."

"And you knew about this?" questioned Jill in disbelief.

"Yes, we were monitoring the situation. Before Boutros left for the bahamas." He replied wearily.

"So, said Bob, expressing a keenly felt desire to re-enter the narrative after his side-lining in recent posts, "what's the problem? The clownz are on our side now. You were aware of their plans, which might I say, are redundant now the The Big Cheese is Toast."

"He-he. Chese on toast." giggled X. But no-one else joined in.

"Er...it's not quite a simple as that." declared Gonzaroolio.

Everyone turned to look at him again. A past-master of the circus Big-Tent, Gonaroolio thrived under this sort of scrutiny.

"The clones....they're...erm...pre-programmed."

"What sort of clones are they?" said Arthur.

"The cyborg kind. Part clone, part deranged homicidal pyscho-machine. All clown. Right down to the day-glo orange wig and everything, we spent months perfecting that. You woudn't believe how hard it is to grow spun-nylon of the correct shade in a test-tube."

"I see. Said Guy. "You said they were pre-programmed. To do what."

"Well you know...the usual, loot, destroy, spread forth havoc and terror. Only...." the clown broke off.

"Only...what?"

"They have a huge inferiority complex and are pathelogically depressed. One day they rebelled. Between themselves they took a vote and became a Doomsday Cult. When I heard this I immeadiately ordered the entire project be scrapped, only on the way to the incinerators, a unit broke free and escaped. Last I heard, they had run off screming into the night decrying the 'coming of the end'. We hadn't installed the trackers at that point but we think they are still on their projected missions to infiltrate major cities around the globe and to detonate.

"Detonate?" inquired Arthur incredulously.

"Yes, each carries a small but devastatingly powerful explosive charge." responed Gonaroolio.

"And now we've got to stop them." said Guy. From his bed he tuned and looked at his assembled Agents.

"I know, it's going to bebhard without Boustros to guide us. But have faith in me, I will get us through this."

"Just tell me were to go." said Arthur.

"No, not this time, Robinson. I have something more important for you and X to be getting on with. I want Bob and Jill to sort this one out. Bob, Jill I want you to go with Gonzaroolio and try and track down these missing suicidal cryo-clonez. He gestured to X and Arthur to come to his bed-side. They spoke quietly the speech being mostly inaudable
"You two, I want you to.....and......Switzerland.....dying pilchard.......bring back the.....all clear? Good."

"Right off you all go then." Said Guy. The assembled crew all moved towards the door. "Oh and Arthur?"

"Yes boss."

"It's two 'o' clock." he said rolling noto one side. "Send in the nurse would you please. It's time for my sponge bath."

***** I LOVE this story!*****