The Sons of Horus (vihoviimeinen ahnold tarina)

[hullukoira]

Okay! I said I would not write any more Ahnold, but yesterday I found the script I had written for this, the last episode, on my hard drive, and so, as I had some free time, I decided to write it all up. Mind you, this really is the last Ahnold story, as can be seen when you read the story to the end. But on to the story already!!!




Previously in the Adventures of Ahnold:

-Ahnold is revealed as the most muscular of marine heroes.
-So muscular, in fact, that he had to change to terminator outfit, the regular armour getting too small for his mighty frame.
-But Ahnold strips off his terminator armour as it is too clumsy, and goes on to slaugter a horde of dark eldars with naught but a codpiece on.
-Later, Ahnold goes for a spirit journey to Warp, where he meets the spirit of Warmaster Horus and does battle with the dude.
-Warmaster Horus reveals he is Ahnold's father!
-Ahnold returns from Warp and meets Cypher the Fallen, whom has arrived to prevent Ahnold falling to the hands of Horus and his scumm. With two mms.
-Cypher offers Ahnold some gahvey. As a result, Ahnold goes hyper.
-Cypher announces that the Sons of Horus have arrived planetside.

And so they had!

It was time for action!!!

The final part of the Adventures of Ahnold

The Sons of Horus

The sun dimmed.

Dark shapes of gargantuan chaos cruisers blotted out the light, their cold shadows falling over the gathered company of Fallen.

From the bellies of these warped starships, sinister shapes detached. Flights of Thunderhawks swept over the desert plains. A veritable rain of chaos drop pods thudded and crashed to the ground all around the small marine company, making the earth heave and tremble.

From the belly of Brian, the Fallen Angel with a b-type diabetes, a mighty rumble of hunger arose. Alas, there was no time to break a fast now. Brian shook his head to clear it, and readied his bolter with shaking hands.

It was a dismaying sight for the beleguered company. For they numbered only two score men against the whole might of the Sons of Horus chaos space marine chapter. Still, there were some good sights as well; For one of the drop pods had landed upon the annoying mime and squashed him to pulp. Or her. It was had to tell with mimes, and even harder now! Ahnold gave a fleeting grin at this. For he hated the bloody mimes.

'All right, men!' shouted Cypher the Fallen with clipped tones. The storm raised by the passage of the chaos craft made his robes billow around him, so that patches of dark green armour were revealed in a mysterious manner. As if. 'Gather around! keep close to Ahnold! They want him alive, which means they'll not risk shooting in his direction. Which means they have to get close enough for hand to hand fight. This gives us a change to win this fight, despite the odds against us!'

The Fallen Angels grouped around Ahnold, their green armour flashing despite the shadowy illumination. Gripping their bolters they kneeled down to fire positions, taking aim. What heavier weapons there were, were already firing. Ahnold could see one Thunderhawk go down in flames from an ace lacannon shot. Say what you want about these outlawed chaps, thought Ahnold, they could outshoot pretty much everyone.

'Not everyone, boss,' said a caustic voice from the region of Ahnold's gargantuan codpiece. Surprised, Ahnold looked down. And lo! it was the squad of ratling snipers we met in the earlier Ahnold stories. The diminutive soldiers were still toting their sniper rifles. Many had taken cover behind handy Fallen, and were taking potshots at the incoming chaos fanatics. With a nod, Ahnold marked many of the chaos scumm going down. No simple feat either. The chaos marines were clad in power armour from head to toe, and only a masterly shot could fell a foe clothed in such apparell.

'What on Terra are you lot doing here?' quizzed Ahnold. The gahveine in his brains was making it had for him to concentrate.

'What does it look like?' answere the ratling chief, rolling his eyes. 'It looked like you needed help, so we decided to butt in.'

'But you'll get slaugtered!' stammered Ahnold, impressed by the courage of this little fighter.

'So people keep telling us,' shot the ratling, winking up to Ahnold. 'And yet, here we are, still alive and kicking. And talking of kicking, is that the way you are going to tackle that chaos scumm? I mean you seem to have no weapon, boss...'

'I do have this!' grinned Ahnold, and dug into his codpiece. His hand came out holding a genuine Marbo (tm) hunting knife. Yes, the one with a compass in the pommel.

'Wow!' whistled the ratling chief. 'A genuine Marbo (tm) hunting knife! Fitted with a compass too! Darn! Let me take a closer look, boss!'

'Fat chance!' cried Ahnold, snapping the knife out of reach. He knew of ratlings, or rather, of their reputation. The diminutive gunmen were habitual thieves. They would steal anything if it was not nailed down. And usually did, too.

Luckily, the ratling was just as familiar with the said rep, and did not take offence. Rather, he looked Ahnold with even more respect. This human was clearly no fool!

By now, the desert plateau was filled with chaos soldiers. The warped brass etching upon their black armours glittered in the shadowy light. But they were not the only ones upon the environ. For here and there, a paparazzi or a jogger was making speed the other way, towards a nearby hive. Clearly even the most hardened reporters had decided to call it a day. And who's to blame them? For chaos marines are a terrible, dismaying sight.

No, wait! Not all reporters had scarpered. For from behind a nerby dune, two men rose and started walking towards Ahnold and his band of courageous marines. One of them was holding a holocoder, the other an old guard issue hellgun.

'Charles and Lloyd!' cried Ahnold, recognizing his court reporters. The two newsreel men had been with him through thick and thin. 'What are you doing? This is no time for close-ups!'

'Indeed not, old chap,' said Charles, the one with the holocorder. 'We are here not to shoot you but those chaos scumm.'

'Good for you!' grinned Ahnold, pleased at the men's courage. Both reporters, he knew, were veteran guardsmen, now retired, and could hold their own in any fight. 'You got weapons?'

'Just the hellgun,' answered Lloyd, cocking his weapon of choise. 'For now. -We'll soon pick up something better, though.'

'Okeydokey. But Charles...'

'Yeah?'

'Hold on to that holocorder. This fight will be the stuff of legends. If there's going to be any epic stuff I want you two close enough to cover it.'

'Nuff said, boss.'

And then the Sons of Horus were upon them.

Like a wave, the chaos scumm crashed over the small company of the Emperors finest. But like a breaker, the company held. The chaos commanders could only look in dismay as the chaos front was broken and then cut down.

And then it was the turn of the Fallen to move. Crying warcries and insults, the Fallen ran forward, firing their bolters from the hip. They mowed down a squad, then swarmed over a Landraider. Nothing could stand in their way, it seemed. And no wonder: For they were led by the two most feared fighters in the universe (apart from Marneus Calgar, of course), Ahnold and Cypher.

As one, the chaos commanders realized it was time for drastic measures. They huddled together and started praying in heathen lingo. The earth rumbled. The sky cracked. The air blackened. And then, the very fabrick of reality was torn away. For a moment, the battleground was filled with the wails of a million daemons. Then reality returned. But it did not return alone.

'Oh my Holy Emperor!' cried Brian of the fallen blood sugar. 'A Greater Daemon!'

And so it was!

The Daemon was a gargantuan giant of a titan! Shaped like a pagan god, the four metre tall creature had the body of a astonishingly muscular man, the head of a very scary dog, and the wings of a bat. Only bigger, well, obviously. It's sweaty skin was of deep red hue. In it's meaty hands glinted two evil weapons, an axe, and a worryingly huge sword.

'Now that's some sword!' sighed Ahnold in awe. He glanced at his own weapon, the Marbo (tm) knife, that was looking decidedly worse for wear. The famed weapon was full of scratches and nicks. And the shopkeep had sait the weapon could hold it's edge for eternity. -What a ripoff merchandize!

'You like it?' asked Cypher.

'Heck yeah!'

'Well, let's go get it!'

The two heroic incdividuals moved in gracefull union towards the bellowing Khorne Daemon. They cut down anyone trying to block their path. Coming to the Daemon, they halted, letting the beast make the first move.

'Come on, doggie!' cajoled Cypher. 'Heel! Roll!'

The Greater Daemon, having been schooled in the gothic language, bellowed in rage. It swept at Cypher with it's axe, but the Fallen jumped the strike with contemptous ease. It then raised it's sword.

This was the moment Cypher had been anticipating. He raised his plasma pistol in a gracefull movement, and shot the beastly Daemon in the fingers. With a howl, the Daemon dropped it's sword.

Which Ahnold caught straigth from the air!

Charles and Lloyd whooped at this. This was the stuff! There was going to be a Pulpitzer prize for them in this! Checking that the holocorder was still green, Charles kept shooting the action. Lloyd, for his part, kept mowing the onrushing chaos fanatics with a plasmacannon he had acquired from one of the Sons of Horus.

Hold on, I hear you say. A plasmacannon? In the hands of a human?

Heck, why not? Yeah, it's a hefty piece of equipment, I'll give you that, but bear in mind this is a guard veteran you are talking about. Plus, both Lloyd and Charles have been pumping iron with Ahnold for over two years, what with their in-depth interwiews usually happening in and around gyms.

-Pumping iron with Ahnold? Darn! Talk about a high class personal trainer! I mean those guys have been sharing shower sessions with Ahnold!

Ummm, I wish I had not said that one... But moving on!

Ahnold did not bother to grandstand with his new weapon. He knew Greater Daemons well enough not take them for easy marks. So, letting the Daemon no time to recover, Ahnold spun to it's backside and severed it's spinal cord in one fell swipe. Cut in twain, the Daemon exploded in a huge explosion of viscera and warp essence. The Fallen all around punched the air with their fists and wiggled their eyebrows at the dismayed chaos scumm around them.

'Play dead, doggie' said Cypher caustically, and kicked the remains of the Daemon for a good measure.

Ahnold decided to take a breather, and to took stock of his new weapon. The sword was well over a metre long, with leather wrapped, two handed pommel. The blade section was jet black, with a hint of blue running on the edges. It was surprisingly light. Pleased at what he was seeing, Ahnold swung the sword around over his head. The air tore with a sound of a, well, torn cloth. This was some sharp blade, then! Unlike that crappy Marbo (tm) knife, I might add.

'I say, who might you be?'

Startled, Ahnold stopped waving his new weapon around and looked about for the speaker. But only Cypher was by now near him, and the old geezer looked just as mystified as Ahnold.

'Who is this?' quizzed Ahnold, feeling a bit silly, as people tend to do when they have to address empty air. 'Who is speaking?'

'Why, it is me, the famed sword Aquiesse, of course!' the sound answered.

'Good grief,' sighed Ahnold, passing a hand over his weary eyes. 'A talking sword. What a cliche!'

'Look who's talking!' quipped the sword back. 'The living and breathing he-man. By the looks of you you could have walked out from the pages of some juvenile comic book!'

'Have a care, sword,' grunted Ahnold. 'For I have you know I am Ahnold, the mightiest marine hero of all time. Apart from Marneus Calgar, fo course. And If I had the mind, I could break you in twain upon my knee!'

'Ahnold?' the sword cried, surprised. 'Surely not Ahnold, the only living son of Horus? The destroyer of the dread chaos captain Ahrzzzz'z? The conqueror of Haxor? And not the least, The Bodybuilder of the Month for ten years running?'

'That's me!' grinned Ahnold, pleased at being recognized by the fell weapon.

'By the Chaos Gods!' cried the sword. 'This is the happiest day of my life! Finally I will be wielded by a real hero, instead of being waved about by a dog headed daemon! This is the day I have dreamed since I was birthed at the forges of Horus, thousands of years ago! Oh, Ahnold, grip me! Hold me tight! Caress my keen edge with your callous fingers! Ohhhh!!!'

'Steady on!' Ahnold cried, a bit disgusted by the eagerness of the sword. 'I'm strictly heterosexual, I'll have you know, despite the rumours!'

'Oh.' The sword sounded a bit disappointed. 'So there is no chance of you sticking my pommel up...'

'No.'

'How about licking the blood off my edge after a heady fight?'

'Nope. Think not. Don't like blood all that much. Sorry.'

'Well, you cannot get it all, I suppose. By the way, what's the deal with Marneus Calgar? How come he's regerded as greater marine hero than you?'

'Funny you should ask! Well, the blame lies in an arm wrestling match I had with the man.'

'You arm wrestled Marneus? Wow!'

'I know! Stuff of legends and so forth! Made a great press coverage too...'

'I bet it did! Did you win?'

'No, and that's where the rub lies! But I only lost, mark you, because Marneus cheated!'

'Surely not!'

'Surely he did! He used his gauntlets, see!'

'The lowly cheat! But surely you objected?'

'Oh, yeah! Objected! Sure! Flanked, as I was, by the toughest Ultramarine commanders of all time, I was so going to object!

'I see your point...'

'Yeah. Well, I'll get Marneus one of these days. He'll be without his cadre and I'll make a new challenge. I'll make him squeel, see if I dont!'

'That's the spirit! By the by, lad, I have very keen senses, and I think somebody is crying for help as we speak.'

Ahnold glanced around to see what the sword was up to. The Fallen seemed to be doing all right, working in pairs, cutting down chaos warriors with enviable efficiency. Further along the front, the ratlings had made an old radio mast their base, and were sniping Chos commanders from their aerial loft. But now Ahnold too could hear the cries for help. But from whence did they come from? Aha! there!

Brian was in trouble. Big trouble. He had been fighting against the weakness in his blood, but had finally succumbed. His blood sugar was by now so low, that he could but lie atop a dune, and mew for help. No longer was there strengt in his hands to even lift his fighting knife. Soon, he would surely black out. If the terminators did not get him first.

Oh, yes, the Terminators. the gargantuan chaos fighters had espied the weakened Fallen and had headed for him, to make an easy kill. The monstrous fighters were over two metres tall, and clad from head to toe in a hideous terminator armour, hideously warped by the powers of the warp. Tusks there were, chains also. And studs. And more weaponry that Abnet's uncle Mack, the one with the bunker out back.

The terminators had circled Brian, and were jsut going in for the kill, when Ahnold arrived.

Screaming in battle rage, Ahnold rushed the terminators from behind, cutting down two with lighning strokes. The talking sword worked like a dream, cutting into the warp armour like it was paper. The other terminators looked on, dismayed. For to them, Ahnold looked like some barbaric king come upon them form the mists of time.

The terminators tried to turn to face the new threat. But this was easier said that done. For as was told in earlier Ahnold adventures, terminator armour is not built for turning (it has ten metre turning radius, see).

So, as a result, one of the terminators tried to walk backwards to get Ahnold in his sights. Bad idea, for it walked right into Brian's rejected bolter and fell over. Moving faster that a racoon, Ahnold was over the fallen figure and pushed his sword into it's midriff with a disgusting sound. The sword drank deep of the tainted blood of the fell terminator.

Well, it had to eat too, you know!

Another of the terminators that were still left, tried to spin upon it's foot. It was a good try, and it managed to loose a hail of bullets in Ahnolds direction as it spun around. Sadly, it lost it's balance, and fell face first into the sand. Where it was cut in twain...

The last of the terminators, their captain, was of more intelligent breed, however. It had taken the careful approach, and had walked a full circle in the sand. By the time Ahnold had finished with the others, the terminator captain was facing him with evil grin. It's autocannon whirred into a life. And spat death!

DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKKADAKKA!!!!

'Oh, crap,' creid Ahnold, and raised his sword in a feeble effort to shield his unarmoured torso. The hail of superheated bullets hit the sword... and pounced back, hitting the fell terminator in the face! The terminator captain fell, a look of surprise in it's hideous, bullethole filled visage.

'Wow!' cried Ahnold, patting his sword, 'you can take bullets too! And you saved my life with it! Thanks!'

'You're welcome! Now, how about a kiss of thanks..?'

'Nice try! But hark, we had better help Brian! Brian? You all right?'

'Ahnold...' sighed Brian in a weak whisper. He tried to lift a hand, but failed.

'Man, you do not sound all that well. What's the trouble? I do not see any bullet holes.'

'It's my blood sugar,' gasped Brian. 'It's in the all time low. If... If I cannot get something sweet to bite on, I'll pass away.'

'Oh, man, that's bad! But wait a sec, did you not pack a field lunch?'

'I did,' gasped Brian. 'It was in my belt pouch... But look...'

Ahnold looked. Where the belt pouch had been, only a strap remained.

'The world is darkening, Ahnold,' Brian whispered. 'I am dying. But I am glad that I can die with you on my side, the greatest marine hero fo all time. Apart from Galgar, of course.'

'Of course...' Ahnold watched, helpless, as Brian's eyes slowly lost their focus, and his lips their colour. If only he had packed some food, he could have saved Brian. But you did not pack food into your codpiece, not if you knew what was good for you! And definitely not after the last time.

The last time, Ahnold mused. Could there still be? Well, it was surely worth the try!

With a cry, Ahnold dropped his sword and dig into his codpiece. Out came the Marbo (tm) knife. Out came a box of matches, a shaving kit and a pocket watch. And finally, accompanied with a cry of joy, out came a soiled and smelly wrapper, full of some sticky brown stuff. Ahnold smoothed out the packet and as the sun caught it in it's rays, the audiences could see the word TERRA embossed in gold capitals upon the wrapper.

Ahnold took a sniff of the genuine TERRA (tm) chocolate bar (filled with almond and penauts, it was THE choise for a battlefield snack) and grimaced. The date upon the pacage had passed, like, decades ago. And that was not the worst of it! But did they not say that peanuts did not get old? And nor did sugar, right? And this was an emergency, right? Right!

So without further ado, Ahnold bent down and pushed the soiled chocolate into Brian's unresisting mouth.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, slowly, Brian's eyes came back into focus. He sucked deep into the chocolate, the started munching. Colour returned into his cheeks. Soon, the diabetic marine was up and was energetically shaking the hand of his saviour!

'Thank you, Ahnold!' the Fallen cried, tears of gratitude streaking down his cheeks. 'You saved my life! And with a genuine TERRA (tm) bar too. THE choise for a battlefield snack! ...Mind you, it tastes a bit weird... Could I see that wrapper, please!'

'Must be the near death experience playing with your taste buds!' cried Ahnold and snapped the wrapper out of Brian's reach.

'Yeah, must be, and anyway, this is no time for complains. After all, I was just about to die! But still,' continued Brian as he dug into his mouth and pulled out something hairy, 'I do not recall animal hair as being one of the incredients in a genuine TERRA bar...'

'Must be a counterfeit, then!' hastened Ahnold to exlplain. 'You just cannot trust a brand these days, can you?'

'Animal hair!' cajoled the talking sword Aquiesse from the sand and sniggerd evilly. 'Yeah, right! Wait till I tell you, young Brian, from what kind of animal it came out of!

'Shut up, Aquiesse.'

'Oh, come now, do not spoil my fun! I just saved your life!'

'And it may have to do it again, Ahnie,' grunted Brian, looking at something over Ahnold's shoulder. Ahnold spun around. And swore heartily.

'Of all the chaos armoury they could have called upon,' cussed Ahnolds as he scanned the distant dunes. 'they had to call up their Titan Legion. We are so frakked, people.'

'Yo, Ahnold,' cut in a familiar voice just then.

'Whisperer!' shouted Ahnold, tapping his commbead. 'My, am I glad to hear you are all right.'

'Yep, likewise, kid,' answered Whisperer. 'But better put the pleasantries on hold. We are coming in to get you. There's trouble incoming and we had better skeedaddle before it arrives.'

'Yeah, darn right!' cried Ahnold, happy he did not have to stay and fight the bloody Warhound Titans that were stomping ever closer to their position. He had heard some nutters had tried to take these behemoths out singlehandedly. A renegade inquisitor Eisenhorn had even succeeded downing one, or so they said. Personally, Ahnold doubted that one. 'The Titans might indeed be a bit too much for us!' He continued into his commbead.

'What Titans?' Whisperer sounded nonplussed.

'What?'

'What?'

'When you said incoming trouble, you did mean these Warhound Titans that are just about to come in range with their gigantic cannons? Right? I mean, there cannot be MORE trouble coming this way? Right?'

'Wrong, kid. You see, Dark Angels just arrived planteside, with full bleeding armada.'

'Dark Angels?!?'

'Yep. Now, we do not know their agenda, and wether it concerns you, but we like to be on the safe side, and take you to hiding all the same. Unless you prefer to stay, of course...'

'Nah, just get here.'

'Okeydokey, kid. Well be at your position in, oh, minute or so.'

'Hey, what was that about Dark Angels?' quizzed Cypher. The fell character had appeared at Ahnold's side as if from nowhere.

'They're coming planetside with a full armada,' answered Ahnold.

'Oh, crap,' said Cypher in his clipped tones, and tapped his commbead. 'This is Cypher,' he then intoned in a whisper. 'Be adviced: We have Dark Angels inbound. I repeat: We have Dark Angels inbound. Retreat to the ship. We take off in two minutes. Till then, keep comm silence.'

'What's up?' quizzed Ahnold.

'We have to go,' sighed Cypher. 'The Dark Angels are here for us Fallen. And it is not yet time for me to encounter them. So, I'm afraid it is time to say goodbye, my good hero. On my part, it has been a honour to fight with one such as you.'

'Likewise, sir,' said Ahnold, and moved in to shake Cypher's hand. Charles grinned and let his holocorder whirr. This was so going to be the holopic of the century. I mean we are talking about front covers in every major newspaper in the galaxy here! Way to go! Man!

'What's that?' cried then Brian, breaking the tender moment. 'Looks like some sort of Arvus Lighter.'

Ahnold turned to watch the incoming craft. She skimmed the dunes with consummate skill and came to land scant ten metres from the company. 'Hello, Ahnold,' the craft said as she opened her doors.

'Hello Mother,' answered Ahnold.

And Mother it/she was. The craft, I mean. For you see, Ahnold's mother had, in her time, been a very skilled pilot. And it had been her dying wish that her mind would be unified with the mind of her ship. This, the Gene-Whazzit Order, had done for her. For they had understood that The Mum of the Century wanted to do this so she could watch over her son, Ahnold, whose lieneage was very well known to The Order. And so, from her death, Ahnold's mother had remained with her son, carrying her from one fight to another, and serving as his apartment as well as a transport ship.

What this had done to Ahnold's relationships with various females, you do not want to know. Trust me, you just don't.

But I'm sure you can imagine. For all mothers are alike when it comes to the dates their sons pick up... But anyway.

Ahnold run to the doors. The reporters followed in his tail, having shared flight with Ahnold many times before now.

Before he entered the ship, Ahnold truned to survey the scene. He saw the ratlings close by, looting bodies, and waved them over.

'You guys wanna lift?' Ahnold asked the diminutive marksmen. 'It'll be pretty hot here soon. There's some real Dark Angels arriving any minute...'

'Nah, we'll stick around,' said the chief ratling and winked. 'We'll try and get onboard one of their battle barges, to see if there's anything they, you know, would like to lend to us.'

'Well, good luck then,' said Ahnold and ducked inside.

The Arvus took off with a shover of sand and dust. Just in time. For the warhounds had finally found their range, and the place where the Arvus had stood became a glassy crater as a superheated salvo from a score of turbolasers hit the locale.

And from the distant skies, a shower of Dark Angel Drop Pods, umm, showered.

Hey, what about the ratlings? Did they just die?

Of course not! The wee men were thrown clear and survived with minor scratches. They did get a bit miffed, however, and went and conquered one of the Warhounds, with which they then walked about, stomping over bodies of the chaos scumm for a laugh.

Good for them!
**********************************************************************

'So I really am Horuses son,' mumbled Ahnold over a cup of degah.

Mother had gotten out of system without anyone noticing. The company had then hitched a lift on board a rogue trader, and entered warp soon thereafter. After all had settled in, it was time for The Talk. You know: the talk were loose ends are tied and so forth.

'Fraid so,' sighed Mother in her metallic voice from one of the lighter's consoles. 'I'm sorry you had to find it out this way...'

'So what's the story then?' Ahnold quizzed. Were you lovers or something?'

'By the Emperor, no!' cried Mother, clearly dismayed by the notion. 'No. I was acting under orders from the Gene-Whazzit. They had seen the future, and wanted the seed of Horus for themselves before it was too late. Now, as it happened, Horus was visiting my home planet at the time, and so, I was sent to seduce the man. Which was not all that difficult. The end result was you.'

'Could you not have said no to the Order?'

'Yes, I suppose, I could have. But I was young. And besides, I think I did the right thing. For without that incident, I would not have you, a son as dear as any mother could wish for.'

'Awwww,' purred Whisperer at this, and winked at the two reporters. The said reporters looked a bit gloomy. They knew this was something they could not publish.

'So, what now?' asked Ahnold after a moments silence.

'Well, I think the secret of your heritage is out for good,' mused Whisperer. 'So, being a regular marine hero is out. You would just be caught and put into a secure prison. Or just killed outright.'

'Which is why we are going into hiding,' put in Mother.

'Hiding!' cried Ahnold, dismayed. 'Surely not! I could not stand a life in some backwater farming town, farming stuff and standing in the fields all day scaring birds and stuff.'

'We are not going into any farming town!' grinned Whisperer. 'It's the first place they would look for you! No, we are going to a pleasure planet!'

'A pleasure planet?' chorused Ahnold and the reporters.

'Indeed,' admitted Mother. 'They are always full of pumped up pleasure boys, so you'll fit right in. You can found your own gym or something there, son. It'll be such fun! Mind you, you'll have to change your name...'

'What of you, madam?' quizzed Charles. 'Surely you would be bored out of your skull, sorry, cogitator, just sitting on a spaceport...'

'Don't be silly! I would not be sitting on a spaceport!'

'Eh?'

'They have robotic bodies on sale there! I have talked it over with Whisperer here, and he's pretty sure he can transfer my conciousness into one. We can then tour the casinos there and have such fun! Right, Whisperer dear?'

'Right on!'

'Own a gym in a pleasure planet...' mused Ahnold, not really listening. 'Hey, I like that! And as for a new name, how does ARRnold sound to y'all?'


*The End*