They all took turns looking through the Magnascope at the Tele-Disco Destructor ship. They had moved American Spaceship back to within one light day of the enemy fleet, while
Billy ate Pop Rocks and drank Royal Crown Cola to re-energize his flexible young body.
"I am absolutely out of ideas," said Tongo. Debbie had forced him to take an
anti-septic shower and now all his vermin were dead.
"We will use Glass Energy Shell technology invented by Dog hive-mind to protect
ourselves and American Spaceship from hyperbombs," said Dog. He had an incredibly
tiny rocket pack strapped to his back so he could move around very fast and avoid being
smashed by humans and Tongo.
"Okay," said Billy. His voice sounded funny because of the pop rocks and
everybody laughed, forgetting for a moment the huge shitstorm of really serious stuff that
was happening just then. "But how will we penetrate their shields?"
"That will be my job," said Dog. "I am too small for the shields to block. I can slip aboard the Destructor, locate their main computer, and totally fuck it up.
Then I will send you a signal on my incredibly tiny radio, which amazingly enough is
nothing more than an improbably huge and complex atom the Dog hive-mind invented."
"Sweet," said Debbie.
"But wait until I'm back aboard American Spaceship before firing your plasma cannons
and warp torpedoes," said Dog. "Because a dog's life, contrary to popular
opinion, is sweet as hell, and I don't want to die right now."
"Right," said Billy.
"Ajax is dead," said Billy flatly.
"That's impossible!" said Tongo. "He was alive just a second ago."
"Well, he's dead now," said Billy.
They all looked down at the cooling corpse of Ajax, the Cyborg-Poet and eclectic space
wanderer who'd arrived at Space Command two years ago, singing off-color tunes and
strumming his quad-lute, regaling them endlessly with tales of his boring life in the
Andromeda galaxy until they all felt they would go insane.
"What killed him?" asked Debbi. She stroked his lifeless, 7-fingered grey hand
with its two triple-jointed opposable thumbs that shot death darts from tiny assholes in
"Lack of patriotism," replied Tongo. "The poor luckless fuck kept skipping
out on his political orientation meetings."
"Is that even possible?" asked Billy. "I'm feeling like it's not
"Oh, it's possible," replied Tongo.
"Look!" said Debbi. "There's a little hole in his space helmet. It was a
micro-meteorite that killed him."
"Shut up," said Tongo.
Dog was all alone in space. He was feeling very vulnerable. Even a particle of space
dust could kill him, if it was traveling fast enough. Boy, it sure is freezing cold out
here, he thought. They should have warned me about that. He had never actually been in
space before. The vast infinitude of all creation hung over him like a giant hammer.
It dawned on him then what a mixed blessing his microscopicness was.
He forged ahead, his tiny rocket pack bringing him ever closer to the hull of the
Tele-Disco Destructor. Reaching it, he clung with tiny magnetic clamps. He removed a
tiny laser and began cutting into the hull. It only took a few minutes, and then he was
in and moving toward the main computer complex, his tiny dog heart pounding and choked
with miniaturized blood.