by Mort Gloss
****
"Why is it that wherever we go, these toolbags show up?" said Tom as he peered through the viewing window. "Balloon's supposed to be finishing the translators, and instead he's going to have to go all Han Solo on these clowns."
"What now?" yelled Victory from the other room.
"The big baddy ship is coming for us again," responded Tom.
"You morons," came Victory's response. "Don't shoot at them!"
"What should we do, Balloon?" asked Russ.
"We gots to git outta here pronto; them bandits is gonna start shootin' soon," he answered, flipping what appeared to be random switches on the back wall of the command center.
"Or now," remarked Tom, pointing out the viewing window. "Unless that red, laser-looking stuff coming toward us is some kind of strange space bird."
"Balloon, get over here and take the controls," yelled Russ. "We've got incoming!"
Balloon obeyed Russ' order, jumping into his seat and gripping the controls hard. "What we gone do?" he screamed in terror, "they's hundreds a them things comin' at us."
Tom slouched down in his command chair and cradled the back of his head with his hands. "It's simple. Close your eyes, and guess how to maneuver the controls so we don't get hit by one of those warheads."
"Agreed," added Russ. "Do it now, Balloon!"
Balloon took one last look out the viewing window, seeing the dark black of space lit up by innumerable projectiles. He then shut his eyes tight and asked himself how to "steer we'all clear." The incomprehensible answer came to him, and he allowed it to control every movement of his thumbs and index fingers. Over the next minute or so, the single-wide gracefully navigated its way through the maze of weaponry, weaving left and right, up and down, increasing and decreasing its speed, and firing off its own laser cannons to intercept random projectiles. When it was all over, Balloon took deep breaths of relief.
"That," yelled Russ, "was epic!"
Tom whispered so only Balloon and Russ could hear: "I say we blast 'em again. They need to know if they come after us it's not going to be pretty."
Balloon looked over his shoulder to ensure Victory wasn't listening before responding. "If'n we blast 'em good, they ain't never gonna let up on us. We gots way better speed on 'em anyhows."
"But are they going to let up on us anyway? I have a feeling these clowns aren't going to stop. And remember, as much fun as we're having, I'd like to get home at some point. We can't just keeping running from these dudes forever," answered Tom.
Russ thought it over for a second. "I agree, we need to keep our eyes on the prize, which doesn't include alien women by the way," he said, directing his attention to Tom. "So answer this question, Balloon. Will engaging these guys help us get the cure for Victory's dad?"
"Engage-whatty?" questioned Balloon.
Tom intervened. "Will shooting these dudes with our laser cannons help us grab the ball of power?"
"No, she ain't gonna do nothin' nohow."
"Well then, it's settled," said Russ, "we'll just outrun them."
"Y'all er a buncha yella-bellies!" shouted Tom with a fake southern accent.
"What's going on, Balloon?" bellowed Victory, entering the command center with a surge of impatience.
"We jist dodged a whole heap a missiles 'n lasers 'n what not, and now we's gonna git outta here."
"That sounds great," said Victory, putting her hands on what was most likely her hips, "but where are we going?"
"We're going to find the Zaxmorthian equivalent to Disneyland, and vacation there for a few days," answered Tom.
"Not necessary," retorted Victory, "you've already found your princess."
"Too bad she hates him," laughed Russ.
"Seriously, Balloon," said Victory, looking at him with resolve, "what's our next move here? My dad's not getting any healthier."
Balloon looked at the ground as Victory spoke. After she finished, he squinted hard and spit out the answer: "we's goin' back yonder to the ball o' power, 'n this time we's gonna scoop her up."
"So that's it?" responded Victory, visibly upset. "We just left there. And now we're just going to go right back? Why did we even leave in the first place? Just so Tom could retrieve that skinny little thing in there?"
"She's quite charming," answered Tom, feigning offense, "especially when she's hissing at you."
Balloon had asked himself the answer to each of Victory's questions, which he now answered in succession. "That's the whole deal. We is gonna go right back yonder. And we needed to leave that there first time, er we was gonna git blown up by all them space bandits comin' at us. And we didna come jist so Tommy could git him a girl; we done came 'cause we need her to git that there ball o' power."
Tom looked at Victory with satisfaction. "Any other questions, your highness?"
"Just one," answered Victory, pointing her finger out the viewing window, "what are you going to do to keep us from getting blown up by all those missiles?" With that, she folded her arms and walked out of the room.
"You know what to do, Balloon," said Tom, getting comfortable in his seat.
"Ain't no thang," said Balloon, his eyes already closed.
