STAR WHORES 8: MENSTRUAL LIGHT AND MAGIC

or CORELLIAN GRAFFITI

The last surviving Rebel Transport, The Flocculator, sped out of Hoth's outer atmosphere, desperately trying to evade the Imperial Fleet which was moving to intercept it. In the cockpit, the pilots, Deak and Windy, fumbled urgently with a rather out-of-date galactic map. When completely unfolded, it covered the cockpit window entirely. They ran over it with pencils, trying to find their position in relation to the Rebel rendezvous point. Deak chewed off the last remnant of his left thumbnail as he scanned the map.

"Alright, where's Hoth on this thing?" Windy went to the star system index, which covered the entire backside of the map in nearly microscopic print. He ran down the enormous list with his finger. "Okay, wait a second...Halla... Halma...Halme...Hamaa...Hamab...Hamac...Hamad..."

Deak slapped him sharply. "Skip down!"

"Uh, sorry. Okay...Hort...Horta...Hosh...Hoss...Host... Hota...Hote...Hotf...Hotg...Hoti...Hotj..."

"What?! You skipped it!"

Windy frowned at the map. "Oh, you're right. Yeah, here it is--Hoth. It's at...GGG4318." He quickly turned the map over and located the grid in question. "Okay, I got it!"

"So which way to the rendezvous point?"

Windy grinned. "I think we're gonna make it, man. All we have to do is...Come to think of it, where is the rendezvous point?"

Deak did a double-take. "I thought you knew."

"I thought you knew."

"You're the navigator!"

"Well you're the pilot!"

Deak beat his forehead in frustration. "Oh this is fuckin' beautiful."

Windy shot back defensively. "Look it wasn't my idea to enlist in this fucking rebellion anyway. We couldn't just stay on Tatooine, could we? We couldn't just comfortably go nowhere." He began gesturing grandly. "Oh, no, we had to 'do something with our lives.' We had to 'make a difference.'" He angrily stabbed his pencil through the map, tearing a small hole in it.

Deak bared his teeth. "If you don't find out where the rendezvous point is, right fucking now..."

"Uh...Deak?" Windy gulped, as he looked through the hole he had ripped in the map. "I think the whole thing's academic now."

He pulled the map away from the window.

A Super Star Destroyer loomed above them, filling their field of vision. Its open docking bay grew ever larger, like a widening mouth. The stars turned green as the transport was enveloped in an unshakable tractor beam.

Windy flipped the intercom on. "Uh...attention guys...could anybody with a gun meet us on deck one please? Thanks."

*********

Deak, Windy, and a small group of rebels stood in a corridor on deck one, loading their weapons. At one end of the hall was a bulkhead which would most likely provide ingress for the Imperial boarding party. A dull metallic thud shook the ship as it came to a stop in the Super Star Destroyer's bay.

Deak whistled, getting everyone's attention. "Okay, people, whatever happens let's try to be professional about this. Just arrange yourself along the walls, short people in front, just like in high school."

The troops got themselves into position, pointing their blasters. They began to hear a light knocking at the door. The troops looked at each other nervously, sweating and anxiously fingering their weapons. The knocking continued until Windy couldn't stand it any longer.

"Who's there?!"

A muffled came from the other side. "Little pigs, little pigs. Let me in!"

Deak yelled back defiantly, cocking his blaster. "Come on in, you white-booted motherfuckers! We'll warm your breakfast!"

The voice echoed back. "Not by the hair of your chinny-chin-chin?"

Deak aimed his pistol carefully. "Not by my dead grandmother's short hairs, you hog-balled sonofabitch!"

"Well then, I'll huff...and I'll puff...And I'll..."

The bulkhead exploded outward, sending a spray of lethal shrapnel into the rebel defenders. Most of the first row fell dead. Laser bolts began to cascade out of the acrid smoke. The rebels pointed and prayed, firing their weapons blindly into the haze. One by one they fell to enemy fire.

Deak crouched and fired desperately. He yelled to Windy, who was already using the body of one of his fallen comrades as a shield. "There's too many of them! Retreat!"

"To where? We're on a spaceship!"

"Anywhere!"

Deak was suddenly struck in the abdomen by a stray shot. He fell to the floor, groaning and beating at the flaming hole in his tunic.

Windy, who was stacking dead bodies in front of himself like sandbags, noticed his friend's plight. "Deak!"

Deak gritted his teeth grimly. "Go! Leave me! Save yourself!"

Windy shrugged. "You're the boss." He scrambled off down the hallway.

*********

In the passenger cabin of the Flocculator, Emperor Luke Skywalker was in the process of interrogating the assembled Rebel prisoners. He held one man up in the air by his throat. "Okay, smart guy. What's the square root of two?"

The man gasped. "I don't...I can't..."

"Come on, think back to school. I just want two decimal places."

"It's, uh...one point...four..." The man emitted a pitiful gurgling sound, then went limp. Luke threw him against a wall, adding to a pile of suffocated corpses.

An Imperial commander entered, escorting a rather bloodied Windy, who was bound with handcuffs. "We found this one in the girls' bathroom."

Luke looked him over. "At least he had the sense enough to hide. What's your name, scumbag?"

Windy's eyes widened when he recognized Luke. "Lu...Luke?"

"Your name is Luke too?"

"No, it's Windy! We were best friends back on Tatooine, remember? Back at Anchorhead we used to fly our skyhoppers around, pretending we were fighting battles. You know--Windy? Beggar's Canyon? We used to hang out with Deak, and Camie, and Fixer..."

"And Prancer, and Dancer, and Donner..."

"You must remember me! We hung out all the time!"

Luke shook his head. "Look, man, if you think that some weird nickname from the ass-end of an out-of-print trivia book is gonna evoke any tearful nostalgia, you've got another thing coming. Now come on, let's get this over with."

Windy reluctantly placed his neck in Luke's grasp, and he was lifted off the floor. "Alright," Luke hissed. "I just want to know one thing--where's the bitch?"

"Which bitch?" Windy gasped.

"About 5'1". Brunette, fake tits. Your perfect little spoiled Alderaanian princess."

"You've just described...half the women in the quadrant."

Luke tightened his grip. "Look, fuckhead, we've captured every other transport and searched them all. I know she's hiding here somewhere."

"Don't know what...you're talking about..." Windy's face started turning red. "Don't know...consular ship...diplomatic mission...no habla..."

"If this is a consular ship, why doesn't it say 'Consular Ship' on the hull?"

"Ran out of...paint..."

Luke swept his arms around the room. "Everywhere I look it says 'BLOCKADE RUNNER.' On the walls, on the uniforms, on the cocktail napkins." He began tightening his grip on Windy's throat, then suddenly reconsidered. "Wait a second. I want to try something." He put Windy down, took a step back, extended his hand, and closed his eyes, channeling the Force. "My Dad used to do this." He visualized Windy's windpipe being crushed, letting the Force flow through his fingers. Windy began making unusual grunting noises. But when Luke opened his eyes, he saw that rather than suffocating him, he had given him an enormous hard-on. And yet strangely, the front of his pants was soaked with urine.

"Shit." Luke sighed, picked up a blaster, and fired it into Windy's neck, blowing his head off. "Gotta read a book on that or something."

*********

On the far side of the Hoth system, the Millennium Falcon streaked through space, with several TIE fighters in pursuit. Green blasts of laser light struck the ship repeatedly, taxing its stabilizers.

Han Solo and Chewbacca worked furiously in the cockpit, which was shaking so violently that their speech was slurred. Well, actually, Chewbacca worked and Solo shouted.

"Come on, come on!" Han snarled. "Let's hope we don't have a burnout."

"Raarheeah roooaaa." (I burned out years ago.) At that moment, a direct hit was scored on the ship, causing it lurch to starboard. Air fresheners, coffee cups, and tattered calendars rained down on Chewie from an overhead compartment. Han smacked Chewie on the side of the head with a newspaper.

"Concentrate, you fuckin' mutt!"

Chewie momentarily considered killing Han, but then decided to wait for a better moment. He slowly rose to his feet, smoothed his pelt, and left the cockpit. Han stared in astonishment. "Wait a second, uh...stay. Stay! Sit! What the fuck are you doing?!" He turned back to controls, realizing that he now had to pilot the ship by himself. He looked over at Chewie's station and gulped--it was a maze of unfamiliar readouts and buttons.

"Shit!" Han quickly flipped open the glove compartment and pulled out a small booklet--"S-31 NAVICOMPUTER OWNER'S MANUAL." He turned to the first page and began reading frantically:

WELCOME

Have you ever looked up at the night sky and wondered about it all? Wondered where you are, where you're going, and how you'll get there? Have you ever felt adrift in the vastness of the cosmos, convinced that you're nothing more than an afterthought? Or a bit of evolutionary detritus doomed to wander a dingy corner of nothingness in a despairing stupor until you die? Have you ever been struck by the heartless, incomprehensible enigma that is our universe? Have you ever considered taking your own life?

SUICIDE SOLUTION?

Of course. We all have. Throughout history, humanity has travelled many different paths over the aeons, trying to divert its collective attention from these unpleasant realities. You may have tried some of the more popular diversions yourself--Art, Religion, Sex, Psychoactive Drugs, Sports. But somehow they weren't enough. Well congratulations, shrewd consumer, you need search no longer. Who needs love, sex, or some abstracted notion of "God" when you've got...

AN S-31 MULTI-ARRAY NAVICOMPUTER!

Yes, the cold abyss of space can be as familiar as your backyard with the help of your S-31! Just try to get lost! We dare you! Forget about quantum-theoretical non-locality! With an S-31 to guide you, you'll always know 'where it's at.' Are you ready?

YOU ARE GOD

Or at least you'll feel like one as you ride your S-31- equipped chariot in a fiery streak across the heavens...

Leia, who had just stepped out of the shower, walked into the cockpit in a white bathrobe. She was drying her hair with a blaster on its lowest setting. "What have you got there, Han? 'The Book of Common Prayer?'"

"It's nothing."

She crept up behind Han and snatched the manual away from him. She looked at it and sighed. "Terrific." She grabbed Han by the ear and pulled him up out of his chair. "Look, Captain, why don't you go in the back and play." She shoved him aside and sat down in the control chair, then quickly re-stabilized the craft and began evasive tactics.

Han grumbled and walked into the aft compartment. Chewie was already embroiled in a game of Holographic chess with R2, who examined the board carefully and punched his next move into the computer. One of R2's wayward knights (a blue-skinned Hammerhead) slipped through an opening and attacked Chewie's king (a corpulent Gamorrean). Chewie howled in frustration as his king was forced to the ground and decisively sodomized.

Han smirked. "It's a fair move. Screaming about it won't help."

"Raaaoooah." (Did mommy put you to bed?)

Han sat down and slapped his thigh. "Goddamnit! Who does she think she is? I oughta go back in there and whip her little ass."

"Raahaaggh." (I'm afraid that would require balls. Of which you're at least two short.)

"Chewie, we're men here. Now we got some Alderaanian cunt pissin' in our face--cocksucker! Wants to break our rice bowl. No pussy is worth this. Maybe Luke was right. Am I whipped?"

"Reeeoooraar." (Like a bowl of cold mashed potatoes at a Mary Kay seminar.)

Leia swept into the room. "Chewie, the power coupling on the negative access has been pulverized. Replace it, will you?"

Chewie barked an affirmative and headed for the tool closet.

Han waited petulantly for Leia to look at him.

She sighed. "What is it, flyboy?"

"You want the dog to work on the ship's systems?"

"Do you even know where the power coupling is?"

"Of course," Han snapped. "It's on the uh...negative access."

"And where's that?"

"In the back somewhere."

Leia laughed. "I'm sorry I doubted you. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an Imperial armada to outrun." She headed back for the cockpit. "And tell Chewie to step on it. We're going to hyperspace as soon as my hair's dry."

*********

On the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer 'Executor,' Luke was having the finishing touches put on his mechanical cheek. His medical robot was pinching and wiggling it.

"Oww." Luke batted the robot's arm away. "This wasn't made by the same company that made my dick, was it? I still don't know if I'm coming or going with that thing."

"Oh, no," the droid replied. "The failure of the Orifex 2L series put Fleshcorp out of business months ago. This cheek is a top-of-the-line Physiognymix Excelsior. Here's the manual." The droid offered a small booklet to Luke.

"Never mind. I've got a fleet to lead now."

"When you have time, sir, I'd be happy to install a replacement penis. The XP-38 Staffmaster Plus from Membrex was put on the market a week ago. I think it would look good on you."

"I'll let you know." Luke strode out into the center of the bridge, swinging his cape ominously. The crew hurried out of his path. He stopped in front of the main observation window. Outside was a magnificent panorama of Imperial Star Destroyers in tight formation, still orbiting the white snowball of Hoth. Luke turned around and faced the crew.

"Ozzel? Where's Ozzel?"

Admiral Ozzel, a portly man in his early fifties, stepped forward. "Yes, Lord?"

"I'm Emperor, aren't I?"

"Yes, Lord."

"This is my fleet."

"Yes, Lord."

"I have absolute power."

"Yes, Lord."

"A new era is at hand, Ozzie. The era of me. I think the galaxy is in for some pretty dark times."

A communications officer stepped forward, waving a piece of paper. "Lord Skywalker! I have a report from one of our TIE squadrons. Apparently one of the Rebel ships is still at large.

The squadron is in pursuit now, but it's almost out of the system."

"I thought we got all the Rebel transports."

"This isn't a standard transport, Lord. The squadron commander says it's some kind of weird-looking pie-shaped thing.

It, ah..." The officer began quoting the message. "'Looks like it was built by a blind quadriplegic in a washing machine.'"

Luke's eyes widened. "That's it! The Corellian cuntsucker! And I'll bet Leia's with him." Luke jumped with glee, his new cheek twisted into an alarming grin. "Alright, everybody listen up! I want the entire fleet sent after that thing. I want every half-spaceworthy tub with a thruster on that motherfucker's ass.

And I'm going to kill one of you at random every 10 minutes until they're captured, so work fast."

*********

Leia blinked at her scanner. "Uh oh."

Han approached behind her. "What is it?"

"Well, this scanner just picked up about 1200 Imperial slugs bearing down on us. Either that or your clock needs resetting. Is Chewie done with that repair yet?"

Chewie shoved Han aside and sat in the co-pilot's chair.

"Raaaraarh reeooorgahh." (Let's light this candle. Punch it!)

Leia slammed down the hyperspace accelerator--to no effect. The engines simply hiccuped like an enormous vomiting cat.

Han blinked at the starfield outside. "Aren't the stars supposed to like, stretch or something?"

"We're in trouble," Leia muttered.

*********

Luke practiced his evil laugh on the bridge of the Executor. "Ha ha, ha ha, HA HA HA HA!"

The assembled crew applauded boisterously.

Luke raised his hands in mock protest. "Oh, no, come on. You're embarrassing me, please. It still needs work."

Ozzel stepped forward. "Sir, I'm not sure we can get a tractor beam on them before they jump to hyperspace."

"Oh, I took care of that on Hoth. Gave Solo a little unfriendly advice about where the wires on the hyperdrive motivator should go. He's completely clueless."

"Brilliant, Lord."

"Yes I am. Open a channel to them."

*********

The Com panel began blinking. Han pointed at it. "What's that?"

Leia slapped his hands away. "Looks like a subspace call."

"Should we pick it up?"

"Let the machine get it. Telemarketers love that frequency."

"It might be important." Han hit switches randomly on the panel until he got the right one. "Hello?"

Luke's voice crackled out of the speakers. "HAN, OLD BUDDY. HOW'S TRICKS?"

"Is that you, kid?"

"THAT'S EMPEROR SKYWALKER TO YOU."

Leia laughed. "Emperor, my ass."

"I SHIT YOU NOT, SIS. WITH VADER AND PALPATINE OUT OF THE PICTURE, I'M THE MACK. THE WHOLE GALAXY'S LINING UP TO KISS MY ROYAL ASS."

"Okay, whatever. Look, we really don't have time for prank calls, so I'm just gonna..."

"IT'S NOT A PRANK, WHORE! I'M LEADING THE FLEET THAT'S ABOUT TO HAUL YOU IN LIKE A LOAD OF MYOPIC CATFISH!"

Han broke in. "Hey, kid, uh...I mean Emperor. I was thinking about what you were saying back on Hoth, and I think I may have been wrong about you. I realize that..."

Leia swung a fist into Han's scrotum, dropping him to the floor. She switched off the com. "No time for tearful reconciliations. Chewie, set 271."

Chewie raised an eyebrow. "Reeaeeahh? Roooogaraggah." (Are you out of your fuckin' mind? That's an asteroid field.)

"They'd be crazy to follow us, wouldn't they?"

Chewie shrugged and set the course. "Roooraaraahrr reeehaggh." (Sure, I guess. Welcome to Circular Logic 101.)

*********

After a few minutes, the pain in Han's groin had dissipated sufficiently for him to stand up. Leia and Chewie were both slumped in their chairs, somewhat dispirited. Han looked out the window. In front of them was a common expanse of empty space. There wasn't a single asteroid in sight.

"So when do we reach the asteroids?"

"Just shut up, alright," Leia grunted.

"What's the problem?"

Chewie rolled his eyes and barked. "Rrrarrahh." (This asteroid field isn't quite what we'd hoped for.)

"Wait a second," Han chortled. "You didn't actually expect to lose them in an asteroid field, did you? This ain't the movies, sister. When you pass through a real asteroid field, you're lucky to even see one, let alone crash into one. I mean, the odds of unsuccessfully navigating an asteroid field must be something like..."

"Shut up!" Leia screamed. "Just shut up! I'm supposed to be perfect, is that it?!"

Han checked the scanner. "I assume the fleet is still on us?"

"Raarreeooorah." (Like stink on a jawa's ass.)

"Wait," Leia said. "I have another idea. Chewie, set a new course."

*********

Ozzel tentatively approached Luke, who was sitting on a deck chair in front of the main window. "Uh..Lord?"

"Yes, Ozzie?" Luke looked up from his margeurita with a thin film of salt on his upper lip.

"They've changed course. They're heading straight for us."

"Relax, Ozzie, have a drink."

"But Lord, they're heading right at us. I mean, right at the bridge of this ship."

"What the fuck?" Luke set his drink aside and stood up. He scanned the starfield outside. A small glinting point between the stars was slowly getting larger. Eventually it resolved itself into the prow of the Falcon, headed directly for the bridge through criss-crossing fusillades of laser fire. "Well Ozzie?"

"Yes, Lord?"

"Let's all yank our thumbs out of our asses on the count of three, shall we? Do you have any suggestions?" The Falcon was now getting extremely close, bearing down on them like a bullet.

"Well, Lord...a tractor beam, perhaps?"

"That's your answer to everything, isn't it? Shit. If a ship is too far away, use the tractor beam. If it's too close, try the tractor beam. If my girlfriend can't have an orgasm, haul out the tractor beam." Luke plopped back into his chair, picked up his drink, and took a swig. "This needs more salt."

All eyes were on the viewport as the Falcon finally streaked past, changing course at the last second to avoid collision. Then it was gone.

"Well, that was exciting," said Luke. "Now where is it?"

The chief scanning officer looked at his screen in disbelief. He kicked the scanner several times, to no avail. "Uh...Lord, the ship no longer appears on our scopes."

"Really? That's very interesting. So where is it now?"

"I...I don't know, Lord."

"Maybe it's in Neverland. Maybe if we think happy thoughts, we can follow them there. Do you know what my happy thought is?"

"No, Lord."

Luke walked up to the officer and put his hand on his shoulder. "What's your name, son?"

"Peterson, sir."

"Well, Peterson, my happy thought is the prospect of your death." Luke stepped back, extended his arm, and concentrated, letting the Force flow. "Come on, baby. Come on, visualize that esophagus."

Peterson began to go into strange convulsions, as if he was covered with bugs he was trying to brush off. Finally he fell out of his chair, pulled his standard issue Imperial trousers down, and excreted onto the deck.

Luke trembled with rage. "Goddamnit! Why isn't anything going my way?" He closed his eyes, regaining his composure.

"Alright Ozzel, I want you to kill the entire bridge crew, and have their replacements on duty in five minutes. I want round the clock sensor sweeps in every fucking wavelength and every direction. I want people looking in closets and under old newspapers. Find them." With that, Luke straightened his cape and left the bridge.

*********

The Millennium Falcon rested quietly on the Executor's hull, its lights dimmed to avoid detection. Han was working in the ship's head, trying to unclog the toilet. He muttered under his breath as he worked the sonic plunger.

"Fuckin' bitch...fuckin' Wookiee needs a stool softener..."

Han fiddled with the plunger, unable to get it to activate.

Leia stood behind him, silently observing. She reached around him and flipped the plunger on. Han snarled and pulled away.

"Get off me!"

"Don't get excited, Han. I thought you wanted to help."

"This wasn't what I had in mind. You can be one iron-breasted bitch sometimes."

Leia laughed. "I guess so. But admit it, sometimes you still get the itch when you look at me."

Han shrugged. "I don't know, maybe occasionally, when you aren't acting like a whore."

"You know the madonna/whore thing, right? Well I'm in my whore phase right now. If I see something I want, I take it. In fact," she smiled seductively and inched closer to him, "Right now I want...Wait a second. Why am I bothering with foreplay?" She pulled her robe off and stood naked in front of Han. Her reddish nipples crumpled and bunched like a twisted bedsheet in the cold air of the cabin. She took Han's hand and led it to her crotch, entwining his fingers in her pubic hair.

Han swallowed involuntarily, then tried to shrug off the contact. "Been there, done that."

Leia smirked. "Sheeit." With that, she kicked his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling on the urine-stained floor, then wrapped the sash of her bathrobe around his neck, suffocating him. Holding the sash with one hand, she used to other to unzip his fly and pull his pants down. Han's cock was already swelling of its own accord. His eyes bulged. Leia twisted his penis with her free hand, and tried to guide it into her vagina. Han thrashed his hips, trying to avoid penetration. After a few moments of slipping and sliding, Leia finally just sat down on his erection, bending it in half. Han tried to howl, but no sound emerged from his constricted throat. Leia got up, tied the end of the sash to a fitting in the floor, then promptly sat on Han's face. He squirmed and kicked, suffocating.

"Okay, Han. I'm not getting up until I come, so you better lick like there's no tomorrow if you ever want to draw breath again." She leaned forward, her head poised above his penis. "And if you bite down, I'll bite down." She popped his erection into her mouth and wrapped her tongue around it like an eel.

Blind, dumb, and suffocating, Han Solo sat down to an early dinner.

*********

With all the lights off and the blinds drawn over the observation window in his cavernous Imperial suite, Luke sat morosely on his throne. He pulled a lever on the side, extending the foot rest and pitching it back. After a few minutes, he was dozing. He slowly became conscious of something in his field of view. In front of him were the three ghostly female droids he'd seen from his bacta tank on Hoth. "You again, huh? Can I ask you girls a question?"

FIRST DROID: Speak.

SECOND DROID: Demand.

THIRD DROID: We'll answer.

"What's my future?"

Another vision began to take shape in the foggy air. Vader's helmet floated in front of him.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Dad. Didn't I kill you?"

Vader's sepulchral tones emanated from the mask. "ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE! BEWARE, ASSHOLE!"

Luke folded his arms. "Should I be writing this down?"

"I'M DONE WITH YOU." The helmet disappeared.

Luke addressed the droids. "Well that was fantastic. Look, if you know my future, why not tell me something useful, like lottery numbers, or which meals to avoid if I want to stay regular, or even the fucking TV schedules so I can set my VCR in advance."

Another apparition materialized before him. It was Dack, his body horribly squashed after being stomped by the Walker during the Hoth battle. Dack stared at Luke, phantom blood pouring from his mouth, and spoke.

"Luke! Luke! Luke!"

"What, what, what?"

"Be bloody, bold, and ballsy. Laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm Luke."

Luke nodded appreciatively. "Now that's more like it. 'None of woman born,' huh? I'll bet my left nut there's some kind of loophole in that, but it's still a step in the right direction."

Dack's mangled body disappeared, and was soon replaced by a third vision, which seemed to rise up from the floor. It was Ben Kenobi. He was tied up in a studded bondage outfit.

Luke's eyes widened. "Goddamn, old man? You still in the twilight zone, or have you moved to the outer limits?"

Kenobi's voice was deep and slow. "Just listen carefully: Skywalker shall never vanquished be until Great Endor Wood to the high Death Star shall come against him." He winked, then vanished.

"Okay." Luke shook his head, completely waking himself up.

The three droids were gone, and the suite appeared to be normal.

He got up from the throne, invigorated. "Well that's bullshit if I ever heard it. Who can impress some backwater planetoid, or bid Kepler and Newton to fuck themselves and their laws?" He walked to the observation window and yanked the blinds up, letting starlight flood the room. He looked out the window...and a smile slowly spread across his face.

*********

Han sat in front of the holo-chessboard, picking pubic hair out from between his teeth. R2 had taken all of his pawns and knights, and was now taking pleasure in suicide plays. "Sometimes I think droids are better than women. They aren't bitching all the time, they follow logical protocols, and they don't have to eat."

"BLOOP BLOOP." (Your move, asshole.)

"Yep, you're the only friend I have, R9."

"BLEEEEOOP." (This is demeaning to both of us.)

Han gazed off wistfully. "I always thought I'd love a horny little Alderaanian girl..."

"BLOOOOP." (Please stop.)

"Someone who wouldn't just fuck my body...but also fuck my heart, you know? Make love to my soul, when it needed loving."

"BLEEOOWWEEP." (For the love of God, stop.)

"Sometimes I feel like I'm just fucking the same hole, with different faces attached to it each time. It's all so empty. Empty as that great void of space out there." Han gestured majestically at nothing in particular.

Mercifully, Leia approached. She mussed Han's hair. "Hey, flyboy. Why don't you make yourself useful and dust the control panel in the cockpit." She dropped a feather duster in his lap and strode off.

Han got up slowly. "You know something, R5? I think I'm gonna sell this ship when this is all over. No more of this spacer shit. Living from one shot of dipill to the next. Dropping in on any no-horse planetesimal with a breathable atmosphere, looking for another kick. Chugging flameout in some alien strip joint until your last hunk of chrysopaz is gone. Then having to suck some alien sex organ that doesn't even have a human equivalent, just so you can buy enough fuel to achieve escape velocity. You ever try to bring a hallucinating Meeriam Hammerhead to orgasm? I had to take off my boots and use my feet, and it still took six hours. And then the whole bullshit ride starts again. You know, sometimes I..."

He turned around, and saw that R2 had left. "Fuck it."

He walked into the cockpit, duster in hand. He started dusting off panels, still grumbling. He had been working for a few minutes when he randomly glanced through the cockpit window at the hull of the Executor. They were affixed to the ship right next to a large observation window, which afforded him an excellent view into what appeared to be a suite. To his surprise, there was a familiar face in the window, waving at him. It was Luke, his artificial cheek twisted into a grin even more lopsided than Han's. In one hand he held up a posterboard sign, on which he had scribbled a message in magic marker:

BYE BYE DICKHEAD

Han sighed, waved back, then walked out of the cockpit.

*********

In airlock 32, Luke and ten Imperial recruits were pulling on their pressure suits, preparing to go outside. "Alright boys, I'm not gonna bullshit you," Luke said as he locked his helmet on. "Most of you are probably gonna die out there, as that appears to be the direction this saga is going in. You can at least take heart in the fact that this galaxy is so uniquely fucked up that there has to be some kind of cosmic deity controlling it all. Of course he must be a sick motherfucker too, but...never mind." Luke hit the intercom. "Ozzel? Now's your big chance."

Ozzel's voice came back over the speaker. "The tractor beam is back online, Lord. They're not going anywhere."

Luke smiled. "The tractor beam makes everything else worth it, doesn't it?" He turned to the recruits. "Alright, I'm depressurizing and opening the airlock, so now would be a good time for everybody to finish putting their gear on." He slammed the depressurization button. Two of the slower recruits who hadn't finished suiting up popped like corn kernels, painting the insides of their helmets red. Thousands of blood droplets twinkled in the airlock. Luke shool his head. "Christ, I counted slowly and everything."

The airlock door slid open, revealing the bluish hull of the Executor, extending outward in an enormous expanse of metal. Luke stepped out, and began hiking in the direction of the Falcon, which was about a hundred yards away. Luke scanned the cockpit window as he approached, but none of the crew were in sight. When they were within about 20 meters of the craft, Luke motioned for the others to stay back. "Wait here. I'm going in alone." When he reached the hull, he caressed it lovingly, then began walking around the perimeter of the ship, looking for signs of life. He unhooked his lightsaber from his belt.

*********

"This isn't going to work." Within the Falcon, Han Solo crouched in the cockpit, looking at one of the exterior monitors.

It showed the Imperial boarding party, standing in a small group away from the ship, shuffling their feet awkwardly. Solo nudged Chewie, who lay next to him, his hairy paw gripping a remote control signaller. "Alright, Shaggy, they've stopped. Now what?"

Chewie glanced at the monitor, then barked a quiet laugh. "Raarraeehh." (Now we learn the value of a clogged waste unit. Lucky you never got the hang of that plunger.) He pressed a button on the remote control.

*********

On the underbelly of the Falcon, a small waste ejection pipe surged into action. It vibrated for a moment, then blasted out a fetid cloud consisting of several weeks worth of feces and urine, all of which froze immediately upon contact with the vacuum. Propelled at lethal speeds by the difference in pressure, it created a razor sharp spray of solid effluent which hurtled toward the unsuspecting boarding party.

Luke, who was safely behind the spray, blinked in astonishment. Nearly the entire collection of recruits was wiped out by the attack, their pressure suits ripped to shreds. Their mangled, lifeless bodies spun off into the vacuum of space. Luke sighed. "Shit. Well at least the Emperor doesn't have to write the notification letters." Only two recruits remained, crouched on the deck, too petrified to move.

The landing ramp abruptly dropped downward, nearly crushing Luke underneath it. "Fuck!" He stumbled backwards, getting behind the ramp.

Leia, clad in a stylish pastel pressure suit and helmet, stepped out onto the hull, brandishing a blaster. With deadly accuracy, she finished off the remaining recruits with two pinkish salvos of laser bolts, sending their dismembered limbs flying off into the void. Luke hid behind the ramp as Leia briefly admired her handiwork, then went back inside. Then, silently, he followed her up the gangway just before it closed.

Within the ship, Leia pulled off her helmet, then withdrew the pins from her hair, letting it spill down. Luke stood behind her, unnoticed. Han's voice echoed from the cockpit. "Well, your highness, how did it go?"

Leia laughed. "Let's just say I'm glad I'm not writing the notification letters. Now let's get the fuck out of here." She briefly put her blaster down so she could take off her suit. Luke immediately grabbed it, gripped her neck from behind, and shoved the muzzle of the blaster into her mouth, stifling her cry.

He hissed in her ear. "Suck on that for a while, sis." He kneed her in the stomach, doubling her over, then bashed the back of her head with the blaster. She fell to the floor, unconscious.

Luke licked the bloody butt of the weapon and headed for the cockpit.

Chewie was just getting up from the floor when a shot from Luke's blaster struck him squarely in the belly. He roared in agony, clutching at the blackened, sizzling hole in his fur.

"RAAARRGHH!!" (AAARRGHH!!)

Han spun around, saw Luke, and sized up the situation.

"Uh...Hey, kid. Thank God you're here. Look, kid, I'm sure you're pissed off, and you have a right to be, but ah...the bitch kidnapped me, right? Forced me to take her onboard, pilot the ship all by myself, do all the repairs..." His explanation was cut short by another blast from Luke's gun, which cut a hole in Han's leg. He crashed to the floor, screaming.

Luke patted him on the head. "It's okay, Han, you don't have to explain everything now." He straightened up, then noticed Chewie, who was rapidly losing consciousness from his own blaster wound. Luke scratched the fur on his head lovingly. "And don't you worry, big fella. I've got people who can fix you."

*********

The banquet hall was laid out beautifully, with several dozen menservants lining the room, ready to fulfill the smallest wish of the diners. The table was nearly 10 meters long, decorated lavishly with erotic ice sculptures. Luke sat at the head of the table, finishing up his appetizer of raw oysters.

Han, Leia, and R2 also sat at the table. Leia, whose head was bandaged, glared lethally at Luke, refusing to touch her food.

Luke winked at her. "Eat up, Leia. This is your last supper, after all."

Several attendants swept into the banquet room, carrying an enormous platter. They set it down in the center of the table.

Luke rubbed his hands in delight. "Ah, the entree." One of the attendants whisked the cover off the platter, revealing an exquisitely garnished, unusually large roast. They began cutting slices and laying them in front of the diners.

Han cut off a morsel and ate it. "Mmm...not bad. What is this, Triannii? Never tasted boiled cat like this before."

Leia threw her napkin on the table and pushed her plate away.

"Try boiled dog, you idiot. You're eating your co-pilot."

"Really?" Han examined the meat, then continued chewing. "I always figured he'd be leaner."

Luke smiled at Leia, his mouth full. "Hey, sis. Don't look now, but there's a wasp crawling on your arm."

"I'll kill it later," she declared icily, looking him in the eyes. "Along with a few other parasites."

Luke put down his fork. "You know, bitch, you are a real bring-down. Why can't you get into the spirit of this?"

"I'm not partial to Wookiee."

"That's not what I've heard. Look, cooking the thing was a real pain in the ass, especially when it kept trying to crawl out of the oven. Three of our best chefs were killed. I tried to make this dinner as nice as I could, and you're pissing all over me.

Well fuck you very much." Luke stood up. "Guards!" Several stormtroopers approached. "Take Punch and Judy to their cells. Have the Imperial torturer get his shit together."

Han was unceremoniously dragged away from the table, still chewing. "At least let me finish... Can I bag the rest of it?" The guards wrested the fork from his hands, and carried him out of the hall, along with Leia.

Luke surveyed the half-eaten meals. "That's the last time I try to entertain."

R2, who had been watching quietly the whole time, slowly rolled over to Luke, who watched him carefully. "Never thought I'd see your rusty ass again."

"BLEEOOOP."

"What?"

"BLEEOOOP."

"Wait a second." Luke reached over and flicked a button on R2's torso, converting his speech to understandable words. "I've been meaning to ask you--how'd you get off the Death Star before it blew? Did you have a premonition it was going to explode?"

"Are you kidding me?" R2 exclaimed, his voice sounding strangely like a midget inside a trash can. "Shit like that tends to follow you around. I got friendly with a tugboat operator and shoved off the same day we arrived. After that I drifted around-- Commenor, Bestine, Etti IV, Wrigley's Pleasure Planet, Dantooine..."

"You got to Dantooine? Hey, did you show Jabba my screenwriting pitch?"

"Yup."

"What'd he think?"

"He thought it sucked."

"Tough business." Luke patted R2 on the head. "I bet you think you've got 9 lives, don't you? Well I hate to break this to you, but I'm gonna have you destroyed along with the others. Gotta keep my character consistent, you know."

"I kinda figured that." Without warning, a tiny mechanical syringe emerged from R2's body, filled with an orange fluid. It plunged into Luke's wrist, injecting its contents.

Luke yanked his arm away. "Fuck! What was that?"

"Just a little something for your pimples."

Luke suddenly felt weak in the knees. He slipped back into his chair, then experienced an incredible rush of pleasure which lit up every nerve in his body like a supernova. His pupils dilated immediately, and his jaw fell into a slack, childish grin.

"Ooohhh....Oooohhhh....Fuck me...What is this stuff?"

"That, Emperor Skywalker, is my guardian monkey, and he's gonna be living on your back for a while. It's called Acnetrex. It's supposed to clear up your skin, but Membrex had to take it off the market when it was found to have certain...fringe benefits. You are now addicted, and I'm the only supplier in the quadrant. So I think you might want to grant me a stay of execution."

Luke fell out of his chair, drool running down his cheek.

"Sure, baby...it's all groovy...groovy baby, sure..."

*********

A pair of stormtroopers dragged Leia Organa down a seemingly endless cellblock hallway. Her feet had been bound, Chinese-style, her head shaved, and she wore a pair of viciously tight handcuffs.

The troopers opened the door to the cell, picked her up, and threw her inside. "Rest easy, Princess," said the taller one as he locked the door. "The garrison's having a barbecue later tonight, and we plan on getting pretty smashed. When we come back, maybe you'll be a little more enthusiastic." He closed the door.

Leia squirmed around on the floor, trying to take in her surroundings. A single light fixture illuminated the cell weakly.

One corner was in complete darkness. A speaker in the ceiling piped in elevator music at a level that was just a bit too loud. With much effort, Leia managed to sit up.

A smooth, feminine voice drifted out from the darkened corner. "Your bleeding has stopped."

Leia whipped her head around and peered into the darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the form a figure sitting in the corner. "Who are you? How do you know about my period?"

The figure stood up and stepped into the light. She was a dignified-looking woman in her forties, wearing a tattered beige robe. Her long, reddish hair was tangled and dirty. "I know many things, Leia Organa."

Leia squinted at her. "Hey, don't I know you..."

"My name is Mon Mothma."

"That's right, you're..."

"Just about the only other woman with a speaking part in this saga, that's right. I also used to head the Rebellion, before I was captured. Do you know that you're the first human being I've seen in 8 years?"

Leia sighed. "Did you really have to tell me that?"

"It's true."

"I'm sure it is, but did you have to say it? Now it's like, since I'm the first person you've seen in 8 years, I have to be really interesting or something. I suppose you'll be wanting to have sex, too. You see the pressure you've put me under?"

"Calm yourself, Leia," Mothma purred, standing over her.

"You've lived with pressure your whole life. I understand. Remember how quickly the boys discovered you? All those tedious, sticky fumblings in the backseats of hovervans, when all you could think about was..."

"Cut the shit, sister," Leia interrupted. "I know the score. There are no guys around, so we don't have to be dainty. If you wanna fuck, just say so."

Mothma looked at the floor, embarrassed. "I wanna fuck."

Leia nodded. "Fine." Before she could lie down, Mothma had stripped and jumped on top of her. She ripped Leia's shirt open and began sucking her nipples ravenously. Leia winced. "Slow down, lady. We've got time." Mothma's tongue orbited her aureoles in succession, coating Leia's breasts with saliva. She buried her face between them, purring like a kitten. Her tongue left a shining trail down Leia's stomach, until it reached her pants, which Mothma unzipped and pulled off with considerable dexterity.

Leia admired her prowess. "I can see you've been rehearsing this." Mothma grunted an affirmative before she pulled Leia's panties down, exposing her somewhat sweaty patch of black pubic hair. She thrust her face into it, catching the hairs in her teeth and chewing them. With her fingers, she began vigorously rubbing Leia's clitoris. Leia smiled. "Oh yeah, that's the spot."

Mothma wasted very little time getting to the cunnilingus. Her long tongue alternately lashed and caressed Leia's labia. Mothma only came up occasionally for breath, gazing darkly into Leia's eyes and licking her lips before plunging her chin vulva-ward. Leia writhed ecstatically--this was the best head she'd ever received by a mile. "Oooh...oh, yes!" Her back arched like a snake's as she gave increasingly boisterous vocal vent to her pleasure. Soon the elevator music was all but drowned under an avalanche of moans and cries. Mothma reared up and coughed, eyes closed and chin dripping, using her right hand on Leia and her left on herself.

"Remember, Leia," she cooed, "everything you need to destroy the Empire is right here between your legs. Everything..."

Leia clamped her thighs together, embracing Mothma. "Less talking! More licking!"

Mothma smiled. "I think you're ready for something special." She spat on her fingers and rubbed them around Leia's vagina, ensuring complete lubrication. Then she thrust her hand inside, her fingers probing nearly into Leia's uterus.

Leia stopped moaning. "Uh, I don't mean to break your concentration or anything, but there aren't even any nerves that far in."

"Don't worry, dear. Just retrieving something." She pushed in further, making Leia gasp, before she pulled her hand back out. She held Leia's IUD between thumb and forefinger. "For what I'm about to do, this can be a nuisance." She threw it aside.

"What are you going to do?" Leia asked, almost frightened.

"I'm going to expand your horizons," Mothma replied. She began deliberately hyperventilating, saturating her lungs with air. Finally, with her cheeks inflated and her face red, she lowered her head back down to Leia's groin. Leia closed her eyes...

*********

For perhaps the tenth or eleventh time in his adult life, Han Solo screamed like a baby. He was strapped into a model T-42 All-Purpose Interrogation Recliner, being given the full treatment by the head Imperial torturer in a dingy, dank cell. The torturer, draped in a black robe, patted Han's head.

Han's eyes bulged in terror. "No! NOOO!!!!"

The torturer grinned cruelly and loaded another full stick of Fleischmann's Margarine into the T-42's hydraulic force-feeder. He deposited the wrapper in a trash can, where a dozen similar wrappers had already been dumped. Metal clamps tightened on either side of Solo's head, immobilizing it, while two more clamps pulled his mouth open and pinched his nose.

Han struggled to talk with the clamps in his mouth. "Aaarharaarrahhghgaaarrrr!!" (If you have a single atom of humanity left in your black and evil soul, you'll desist right now!)

"Stop struggling, Solo. If you'll just be more cooperative, maybe I'll give you a scrap of toast to go with it."

"AAAAGGGAGGRHRAA!!" (GOD WILL JUDGE YOU, YOU AVATAR OF HELL!!)

Inexorably, the force-feeder crammed the margarine into Han's mouth. Tears streamed from his reddish eyes as he involuntarily swallowed again...and again...and again. Suddenly the doors to the cell opened, and Admiral Ozzel strode in. The torturer glared at him, annoyed.

"With respect, Admiral, I'm not finished."

"Yes you are," Ozzel replied, meeting his gaze. "I'm terminating the session."

"I'm following a direct Imperial order, Admiral. '6 hours of purposeless gastro-intestinal torture.'"

Ozzel levelled a blaster at the torturer. "I'm altering the orders. Now unstrap him."

The torturer, trembling with anger, reluctantly undid Solo's bonds and let him slip to the floor.

"Now punch him in the stomach," Ozzel ordered.

The torturer hauled Han to his feet, then wound up and dealt him a mighty punch to his bloated stomach. Han fell to his knees and retched like a dying man, releasing a nauseating yellow torrent of half-digested margarine. As soon as his stomach had emptied, Han slowly stood up, wiped his chin, and addressed Ozzel.

"Can I borrow your blaster for a second?" He took the weapon from Ozzel, then turned to the torturer, whose eyes widened in terror. Han kicked him in the testicles, dropping him to the ground, then grabbed him from behind. With the skill that comes with experience, he yanked the torturer's pants down, and jammed the muzzle of the blaster deep into his rectum.

"Aaahh!" The torturer's eyes bulged. "Nooo...!"

His cry was cut short as Han, his face contorted into a Satanic mask of rage, squeezed the trigger. The laser exploded through the torturer's body, leaving a smoking, bloody hole in the front where his genitals had hung a moment before. Han kept firing until the body stopped twitching.

He yanked the blaster out, wiped it off with the torturer's robe, and handed it back to Ozzel. "Sorry about the mess. Who are you?"

"A friend," Ozzel replied. "I represent a group of Imperial officers who've become disheartened by the way things have been going. Skywalker is a lunatic, and we're dedicated to his destruction. His leadership is a sick tree and it needs to be torn up by the roots before the true glory of the Republic can be realized."

"So you're rebelling against the Empire?"

"Pretty much. Would you like to join us?"

"Sure. So what's the plan?"

"You and that Princess are our only hope. You've achieved something of a celebrity status in the outer quadrants. If you can escape, you'd be an inspiration to others, and a new Rebellion can rise from the ashes of the old. We're going to help you rescue the Princess and escape."

"Do I absolutely have to rescue her?"

"I'm afraid so. The Millennium Falcon is in hangar 18. We've fixed the hyperdrive, and I'll make sure the tractor beam is offline. We've had an upgraded operating system installed on your ship. It's the latest thing. The manuals are onboard."

"Fine. You know, I admire you, Admiral--staying here selflessly, dedicated to the liberation of the galaxy."

Ozzel laughed. "Fuck the galaxy. You think I want to spend another second on this deathtrap? I'm coming with you."

*********

When the last waves of her fourth orgasm finished rocking her exhausted, soaked body, Leia fell back on the floor. "My God," she said, between breaths, "Where did you learn that?"

Mothma sat back contentedly, licking her fingers. "Many Bothans died to bring me that information. So Leia, do you think you're ready to ah..." Mothma casually pointed to her groin.

"I guess so," Leia said cautiously.

"Don't worry. I'll help you." Mothma crawled forward like a crab, depositing her vagina (yawning open like an expectant mouth) under Leia's chin. Leia leaned forward, spat on it, and grinned.

"Here goes nothing."

Before she had even taken her first lick, the door to the cell whooshed open. Luke Skywalker strode in, his deactivated lightsaber held at the ready. The door closed behind him.

"Oh, now isn't that cute?" Luke inquired mockingly. "Didn't I tell you you'd be hungry after skipping dinner?"

"Look Luke," Leia replied, irritated, "I know you're Emperor and everything, and I'm supposed to die soon, but could you come back in about 15 minutes?" Then she noticed Luke's eyes, which were bloodshot. "Are you strung out on something?"

Mothma stood up. She faced Luke, nude and defiant. "Your evil can't last Skywalker. Your Empire may have imprisoned me, but you'll never imprison the human spirit."

"Don't be so sure," Luke replied, readying his saber. "I've got our best scientists working on it and we're close to a breakthrough. Anyhow Mothma, my sister and I would like some privacy, so..." Luke lunged forward in mid-sentence, ignited his saber, and whipped it in a circular, propeller-like motion. Hot blood sprayed on the cell wall. Mothma's breasts fell to the floor, looking like two overripe pink grapefruit halves. She dropped to her knees, blood pouring from the two gaping holes in her chest.

Luke leaned over and picked up one of the severed glands.

"How do you like that, sis? They're real." He threw it aside with a sneer, then knelt in front of Mothma, who was breathing her last.

"Funny thing is, Moth--they never locked the door. You could have left the cell any time you wanted. Now what was that you were saying about the 'human spirit?'" Mothma gaped in horror, then pitched forward, dead.

Luke turned off his saber, wiped the blood from his face, and started unbuckling his pants. "Alright, let's get to it."

Leia stared at Mothma's body, devastated. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"Wait, don't tell me...Something bad, right?" Luke slipped off his underwear and began stroking his mechanical penis, which was being somewhat uncooperative. It was getting hard, then soft in 3 second intervals. "Come on, dammit." He twisted it around.

Leia snickered. "That dick wasn't everything you hoped for, was it? Common problem."

"Shut up! It does this sometimes. Just needs a good...whack!" He twisted his pelvis, slamming his penis into the wall. Finally it began to function properly, growing to a comfortable nine inches. Luke mounted Leia, whose bonds prevented her from throwing him off. After a few near-misses, he jammed his cock into her. She lay as motionless as a corpse, putting up with the rather unpleasant sensations. She turned her head to the side, not wanting to look at Luke. Something tiny gleamed in the corner. She focused her eyes on it, then realized with horror what it was--her discarded IUD. She gasped.

Luke struggled to keep his eyes focused. He was beginning to sweat profusely, and yet despite the warmth of Leia's vagina, his extremities were becoming increasingly cold--a sign of Acnetrex withdrawal. His thoughts drifted to R2 and his magic syringe.

With each rocking motion, Leia tried to shift their bodies closer to the corner where her IUD lay. Luke became conscious of the motion and gave her a sharp slap. "Hey, what are you doing?

This isn't a roller derby. Stay put." He continued to poke, fighting his way to orgasm through an increasingly thick haze of junk sickness. He coughed a rope of phlegm into Leia's face.

She didn't notice. The IUD was too far away, she'd never reach it in time. And even if she did, she'd never be able to insert it. Her mind raced for an alternative. She couldn't bear the thought of bringing her brother's progeny into the world.

"Hey, uh, Luke. Uh...Let me suck it."

Luke coughed again, his focus slipping. "Ughh...what?"

"I want to suck it. Please let me suck it." She mustered her best 'fuck-me' voice. "You're right, I missed it. I missed the taste of your beautiful cock. I never told you how much I loved having you in my mouth. Please Luke, let me taste it one last time. I want to feel your come slide down my throat. I want to

swallow it all. Oh God, please!"

"Whaaa..." Luke felt as if his whole body was covered with spiders made of ice. He could barely register Leia's voice.

"Dammit!" Leia head-butted him, trying to bring him back. "Will you stick your fucking cock in my mouth, please!"

Just then, the door slid open. Two stormtroopers walked in. One of them immediately grabbed Luke from behind and tried to pull him out of Leia. The extra sensation proved enough to jump-start Luke's hypothalamus. With a sickly grunt, he ejaculated into his weary sister. The trooper finally wrenched him out and threw him backwards onto Mothma's corpse. Luke lay in a daze, his penis still standing up like a flagpole.

Leia, who had registered Luke's orgasm, sighed. "Too little, too late." She looked at her near-saviors. "What are you, mutineers?"

"Cool it, your worship," the trooper replied. "It's me, Han.

We're getting out of here. But we gotta do it quiet-like." With a grunt, he hoisted Leia onto his back.

"What about the Emperor?" she shot back, dangling over Han's shoulder. "We can't just leave him here alive."

"There are troops all over the cell-block. We've got to make this look like a routine prisoner transfer."

"But I wanna kill him!"

Still on top of Mothma, Luke shivered and babbled.

"Ugghh...R2...Utapau...special edition..."

"Ssshh!" Han hissed at Leia. "There'll be another time."

"Okay." Leia paused for two seconds. "How about now?!"

"Will you be quiet?" Han groaned through clenched teeth.

"Fuck you!"

The other stormtrooper produced a gag from his utility belt. He smoothly slipped it over Leia's mouth, silencing her. Solo nodded at him. "Thanks, man. Where have you been all my life?"

*********

The three escapees moved stealthily down a corridor, passing through a series of pre-arranged checkpoints. Leia, who was now able to walk after having her foot bindings removed, finally managed to chew her way through her gag. "Look Solo, I don't how you arranged this, but from now on I'm in charge."

Han chuckled. "Look, your Worshipfulness, I take orders from exactly three people--Me, my mother, and this other guy you've never met. Since neither of those two are around, I'm calling the shots here, so just shut up and let me find a way out of this..."

The other stormtrooper broke in. "Solo, you couldn't find your dick with two hands and a map. I'm conducting this orchestra."

"Who are you?" Leia snapped.

"My name's Ozzel. I represent a group of Imperial officers who've become disheartened..."

"Skip it," Leia said. "So what's our plan?"

"We're just a few decks away from the hangar where your ship is kept. The hyperdrive has been restored, and the tractor beam deactivated."

"Great." Leia scanned the hallway in both directions. There was no one in sight. "You know, this ship is rather conveniently empty."

"A lot of the troops are at some kind of barbecue," Ozzel answered. "And most of the officers stay away from this level. Anything below AA22 isn't fashionable enough."

When they rounded the next corner, to Ozzel's surprise, they were suddenly face to face with a small detail of armed stormtroopers. For a moment, both groups simply stared at each other. Then the troopers began shouting the standard lines they'd been forced to rehearse in boot camp:

"Stop, Rebel scum!"

"You're not authorized in this area!"

"Halt! You are in violation of..."

Ozzel interrupted their declarations with a shot from his blaster. One of the troopers' chests exploded, and he fell to the deck. The others turned and ran. Ozzel screamed and charged after them. He yelled over his shoulder to Han and Leia: "Get back to the ship!"

When they were out of sight, Leia sneered derisively at Han.

"Well, he certainly has courage."

Han stammered. "Well...what good is courage if you're not around to use it?"

*********

Luke, still groggy after having been revived by a medic with a stim-shot, stood on the bridge. Although it kept him coherent, the shot was wearing off, and the aching cold burn of Acnetrex sickness was returning. He needed R2. With his neck draped in a towel, he shivered and stared out the observation window at the Imperial fleet. "Report!" he barked.

One of the officers stepped forward. "They've been found, Lord. They appear to have split up..."

"Not the Rebels, fuckhead, the R2 unit! Where is it?!"

"Oh, that. Yes, well we're still working on that."

"Well work faster, motherfucker!"

*********

Han and Leia sprinted down a hallway with several stormtroopers in pursuit. Periodically, Leia would turn and spit laser fire at them, howling like a banshee. "Authorize this, asshole!!" She crouched against a wall and sent a barrage of red beams through the smoke-filled hall.

Han grabbed her shoulder. "Come on, bitch, if we don't keep moving we're done for!"

"Oh, gimme a fuckin' break," She yelled back, jerking her shoulder away. "Have you ever seen a stormtrooper kill anyone?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Then lighten up. They're about as dangerous as an autistic kindergarten class. I just want to zap a couple more..."

Han grabbed her hair and yanked her down the hallway. She yowled in protest, but followed anyhow. They kept running, with the cries of the troopers echoing ever closer.

("...Stop, Rebel scum! Surrender immediately!...")

They rounded a corner and were confronted by a large blast door. Han punched the control panel and it flew open. He stepped forward and nearly fell into an apparently bottomless shaft on the other side of the door. They both stepped onto a small ledge, then closed the door behind them, cutting off their attackers.

"Shit!" Han exclaimed, his voice echoing in the abyss. "Just once I'd like to find an Imperial ship without one of these. Where are the controls that extend the bridge?"

"You can't extend the bridge, you moron," Leia replied. "It's designed that way. A bridge would defeat the purpose of the pit."

She looked around, then found what she needed--a small recess in the wall, covered with glass. On the glass was emblazoned--IN CASE OF BRIDGE MALFUNCTION (WINK, WINK), BREAK GLASS. Behind the glass was a rocket propelled hook-and-cable. She smashed the glass with her fist, pulled out the device, and fired it at the rafters. The hook shot out and wrapped around a pipe. She pulled it taut.

"How did you know to do all that?" Han asked.

"The Discovery Channel." She attached the cable to her belt and wound it around her wrist. "Grab on to me."

Han grabbed her from behind, and gave both of her breasts a playful squeeze. "For luck," he explained. Leia shook her head and swung off the edge...

*********

"R2! Why have you forsaken me?!" Luke was curled into a fetal position on the floor, shaking.

An imperial aide crouched down next to him. "Lord, I regret to report that the rebels still haven't been..."

Luke grabbed the aide's collar, pulled him to the floor, and hissed into his ear. "Lis...listen to me, you fuck! To hell with the rebels. I want all personnel assigned to finding that droid! All personnel, do you hear me?"

"Uh...all of them, Lord?"

"EVERYONE!!"

*********

Han and Leia crouched in a doorway, peeking into a large hangar. The Millennium Falcon sat quietly, looking no worse for wear. They only had one obstacle left--the horde of stormtroopers guarding it.

"Now what, your highness?" Han whispered sarcastically. "Do we just wait for them to leave?"

Then, for no apparent reason, all the stormtroopers suddenly trotted out of the hangar, leaving the Falcon completely unguarded.

Leia glanced at Han.

"Just shut up," Han muttered. They sprinted across the hangar and up the Falcon's open landing ramp. When they reached the cockpit, they looked out the window and noticed a commotion outside. The troops who had just left were now being forced back into the hangar. Laser blasts illuminated the bay. "What the fuck's going on?" Han sputtered.

Leia shrugged. "Who gives a shit? I just hope your boys got that tractor beam out of commission or this is gonna be a real short trip."

Han grabbed her arm. "Wait." He peered out the window. "It's Ozzel!"

Ozzel, who had discarded his stormtrooper suit, was blasting a swath through the troopers. He appeared to have suffered multiple wounds, and his grey admiral's outfit hung on his scarred body in bloody tatters. Screaming defiantly, he fired shot after shot, killing everyone in his path and slowly working his way to the Falcon.

Leia tried to pull Han's arm away. "Fuck him, Solo. He knew the risks going in. We've got to leave."

Han ran aft. Leia shook her head and pressed the button that raised the ramp.

Han stood at the entranceway and cheered Ozzel on. The ramp was already going up. "Run, Ozzie, run!"

Ozzel noticed him, dropped his blaster, and began running as fast as his legs could carry him. "I'm coming!" The troopers rained fire on him mercilessly. Most of their shots missed (these were stormtroopers, after all), but a few landed, knocking Ozzel to the floor. Suffering hit after hit, he somehow managed to get back up and continue running, as if in slow motion.

Han felt the engines on the Falcon roar to life. The ramp was now halfway closed. "Hurry up, Ozzie! You're gonna be a permanent resident!"

Staying just a few feet ahead of the advancing troops, Ozzel finally reached the ramp, which was nearly closed. He launched himself heroically and landed on the ramp's edge, with his lower torso still dangling in the air. Han grabbed his arm and began pulling. "You made it, baby, you..." Then Han realized he wasn't strong enough to pull Ozzel up the rest of the way. "Uh oh."

"Solo!" Ozzel cried, realizing his fate. "YOU FUCKING PUSSY-ASSED SONOFA..." His words were replaced by gouts of blood as the ramp closed on him. His ribcage was audibly crushed, and after a few more awkward, nauseating seconds, his entire upper body was severed as the ramp finished closing.

Han fell backward. "Oh man, that is disgusting." Ozzel's lifeless eyes stared into his, and his hand was still folded around Han's in a vice-like deathgrip. Han got up and tried to move away, but the torso still clung to him, spilling blood and entrails onto the floor as it was dragged along. "Shit!" Finally he had to smash the hand against a bulkhead, breaking the knuckles. He peeled the fingers back one by one and got himself loose.

In the cockpit, Leia was making the final preparations to lift off. The stormtroopers outside hadn't quite grasped the situation yet, and were milling around outside, pointing quizzically at Leia and shrugging. She registered Solo's presence behind her.

"Did Ozzel make it on board?"

"Well...yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

Han sighed and dropped morosely into the co-pilot's chair. "It means one thing's for sure--He's a lot shorter. Let's just leave this party, huh?"

"Fine by me." Leia kicked in the thrusters, easing the Falcon out of the hangar and into open space.

*********

On the bridge, the turbolift opened, and a group of four stormtroopers ran in. Hoisted above their heads was R2, who was howling in protest.

"Come on, you bastards, put me down!"

Unable to carry him any longer, they threw him to the deck and began rolling him toward Luke, who was struggling to lift his head. Finally the troopers righted R2 in front of him. Luke banged his forearm against R2's torso. "Come on...come on..."

R2 extended his syringe toward Luke's arm, which was shaking so much he couldn't hit a vein. He stabbed the arm several times with no success. Luke didn't even notice. Then finally the needle struck pay dirt--blood shot up into the syringe, mixing with the Acnetrex. R2 squirted the concoction into Luke's arm.

Luke's sickness evaporated immediately, and was replaced by a mild nausea. But the expected rush of pleasure never arrived.

"Hey," Luke exclaimed. "Why aren't I drooling deliriously with happiness?"

R2 laughed. "Shit, Skywalker, that only happens the first time. From now on the only effect will be to stave off the agony of withdrawal for increasingly short periods. It's already doing wonders for your complexion, though."

*********

Back on the Falcon, Leia suddenly remembered her uterine predicament. The thought of Luke's child inside her filled her with disgust. She got out of the pilot's chair. Han looked at her, perplexed.

"Where are you going?"

Leia rubbed her groin anxiously. "I'm gonna go exercise my right to choose. Where are the medical supplies?"

"In the fridge next to the chessboard. Look, sister...I admit it--I don't know a fuckin' thing about the ship, so I..."

Leia picked up a stack of manuals and dumped them onto Han's lap. "Start cramming. I've gotta practice some retroactive safe sex." She rushed out of the cockpit.

Han shifted himself into the pilot's chair and stared blankly at the navicomputer's screen. It displayed an ornate 'M' logo, along with a number of obscure icons. He shuffled through the manuals, stopping on the thinnest one. Its cover featured a colorful picture of a beautiful woman piloting a space ship. Above were the words: 'INTRODUCING MONTROSS 59 (ver. 234.111).'

Han opened to the first page:

WELCOME

Welcome to the Membrex Montross 59 Novanautical Operating System. With Montross 59, all the things you do with your Montross-compatible spacecraft now will be easier and faster, and what you've always wanted to do is now possible. In fact, we're so smart we already know what you've always wanted to do, so we've done it for you already.

Think of the convenience!

MONTROSS IS GOOD

This book introduces you to Montross and gets you up and running quickly. It will explain how Montross is the greatest endeavor in the history of intelligent life. It will explain how you've always needed Montross, even though you weren't necessarily aware of it. It will demonstrate how Montross is all you really need for a happy, fulfilling life.

TRUST MONTROSS

Montross is an absolute good. Montross is life. Give yourself to Montross. Trust Montross. Montross is good...

*********

Luke leaned over the tractor beam operator. "Now listen, boy. I don't want to have to re-staff this position again. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." The operator hit a few buttons on his panel, then stared blankly at his screen. "Uh..."

Luke leaned in. "'Uh,' what?"

"The tractor..." The operator was already on the verge of tears. "The tractor beam is..."

"Off-line?"

"Yes!" the operator burst out crying.

Luke shook his head. "How ironic that a person's life, and the lives of his family, should hinge on the caprices of a computer program. Almost makes me sad." He snapped his fingers, and two guards approached. "Have 'em rounded up, anointed and put in the aft airlock. You know the drill." The operator was dragged away, whimpering.

Luke thought for a moment. "Fuck it. I was just gonna kill 'em anyway. We've got an ion cannon on this thing, don't we?"

*********

Leia yanked the fridge open and pulled out its contents. She quickly found what she was looking for--The Membrex 14 Choice Actuator Kit.

She quickly read the back cover:

YOU ARE WOMAN

And boy can you roar! You're on the move, wheeling, dealing, and living the good life. But all of us can make mistakes...and that's where the Membrex Feterm 14 Choice Actuator Kit comes in! Trust Feterm. Feterm is good...

Leia skipped the rest and examined the equipment. It appeared to be pretty self-explanatory: There was a comfortable-looking nozzle, a hose, and a small vacuum with a disposable bag on it marked, 'LIFESTYLE HAZARD - DISCARD IMMEDIATELY.' It was a bit more elaborate than what she needed, but it would do. Leia unzipped her pants, pulled them down, and fitted the nozzle into her vagina.

"Okay, junior. Here are your walking papers." She reached for the switch on the vacuum...then hesitated. The words of Mon Mothma echoed through her head:

"...Remember Leia, everything you need to destroy the Empire is right here between your legs. Everything..."

Leia thought for a moment, then pulled the nozzle out. She zipped up her pants and stood up. "Aw, what the hell. Maybe she was onto something." She smiled to herself, formulating a long- term plan. "You might just come in useful, junior." She patted her stomach.

Meanwhile, back in the cockpit, Han was fighting for his life. The Imperial fleet was mobilizing a blockade, and enemy fighters were registering on his scopes in all directions.

"That program group isn't even there! How can I click on it when it's not fuckin' there!" He moved the mouse manically, clicking on every icon he could find, looking for the hyperdrive system. He browsed successive menus, searching desperately--Power Manager, Schedule Creator, Waste Management Browser, Clothing Coordinator, Interpersonal Relationship Manager...

Finally, he found something that looked promising--Propulsion Manager. He clicked on it, then scanned the new window. In the corner, barely visible, was a tiny icon depicting a hurtling rocket superimposed over a tilted lightcone--The Hyperdrive Program. Han laughed with glee and double clicked on it...

-----------------------------------------------

Warning: Cannot find

'VBHPYER.DLL'

Check to insure path and filename are correct.

-----------------------------------------------

Han stared at the screen, mouth agape, not believing his eyes. The Falcon lurched as an approaching TIE fighter scored a direct hit on the back quarter.

*********

Luke sat at the ion cannon fire control, grinning like a child in an ice cream store. On the screen in front of him, the targeting computer displayed a series of receding blips. He pushed a small joystick back and forth, letting the crosshairs rove over the targets. The imperial aide spoke cautiously.

"Lord Skywalker, if you fire now, you'll take out half the fleet along with them."

Luke sighed. "I believe the operative words there are, 'along with them.'" He turned back to the screen. His finger hovered over the trigger...

*********

The Falcon was rapidly coming apart under the hail of enemy fire. Leia stumbled down the corridor and into the cockpit.

"Christ, I leave for five minutes, and we're done for."

"Shut up!" Han screamed. "I'm thinking!"

"You're just sitting there. Here, let me..."

"NO!!" Han pushed Leia away. "I have to do this! Either I come up with a plan myself, or we die!"

"Well, what's your plan, hotshot?"

"My plan is...I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING PLAN!! WE'RE GONNA FUCKING DIE!!" He screamed in rage and despair, then brought his fist down on the console as hard as he could. He buried his head in his hands and wept. "I'm so stupid...so fuckin' stupid..."

"Hey, genius," Leia nudged him. "Look." Han lifted his head and looked at the screen. The Montross background had disappeared, jolted by his slamming the console. The screen was entirely black except for one line:

MONTROSS 59 DE-INSTALLING...

Han watched in amazement as the navicomputer hummed and groaned. Then, abruptly, a waiting prompt and cursor appeared:

FALCON>

Han peered at the word. "Wait...this looks familiar."

Very slowly, he typed: GO

The system replied: HOW FAST?

He typed: REAL FAST

The system: WHERE TO?

Han: ANYWHERE

The system: ENGAGING HYPERDRIVE. PLEASE WAIT...

After a few moments, the engines roared. Everyone fell backwards. The stars stretched...

*********

"Lord!" the imperial aide yelled, listening to his headset.

"Can't talk. Almost there..." Luke pressed the trigger. The windows on the bridge were lit up with a tremendous green flash, as an unimaginable bolt of energy surged out of the ion cannon and flashed into the void, cutting an enormous swath of destruction through the scrambling Imperial fleet. Star Destroyers burst like supernovas. Luke sat back, cracked his knuckles, and smiled.

"Han...Leia...we had a time, didn't we?" He turned to his aide. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Uh...nothing."

"Come on, I'm in a good mood. Don't worry."

"Well, Lord," the aide whispered nervously, "apparently the rebel ship escaped into hyperspace."

Luke stared at him for a moment. His face remained expressionless. "I admire your honesty. Oh, well." Luke got up, faced the terrified crew, and shrugged. "What the fuck. These things happen, right?" He walked slowly, methodically, over to the main window, and surveyed the wreckage of the fleet. "Which ships did we lose?"

"The reports are coming in now," the aide replied, listening to his headset. "Several star destroyers...The Avenger, The Eliminator, The Havoc-Wreaker, The Contaminator..."

"Anything else?"

"Three hospital ships...7 food storage tankers...the gambling barge...the nursery school cruiser...the prostitution frigate...and that ship that held nothing but puppies and kittens."

Luke closed his eyes and put his hands to his temples. His forehead was turning red. Anger rose in him like corrosive bile.

He gritted his teeth, bit the inside of his cheeks, threw back his head, and screamed.

"FFFFFUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!!!" With the dark side of the Force flowing like it had never flowed before, Luke lashed out blindly with his mind, striking down every living thing within his power.

The bridge crew began to gasp and reach for their throats. Luke curled into a shaking ball as every man in the room suffocated to death. When the last of them had fallen, Luke slowly looked up.

Only R2 had survived.

Luke shook his head. "Whew. I feel better now. Goddamn, it finally worked. I almost wish my dad was here." He stood up, dusted himself off, and went to the nearest intercom. "Personnel, this is Skywalker. We're gonna need a new bridge crew up here on the double." He waited for a response, but none came. "Hello?

Hello? Somebody answer! Oh, shit..."

He walked over to the nearest console, and punched up the ship's surveillance cameras. As he brought up different camera feeds from all over the ship, the scene was the same--bodies piled on top of each other, each one with its hand at its throat. Luke sat back in his chair and whistled. "Damn. The Force is stronger in me than I thought." He slumped in his chair, contemplating his situation. "I'm gonna miss my coronation if I don't get to Endor soon. Hey R2, can you pilot this thing?"

R2 turned and headed for the nearest turbolift. "I'm not gonna fuck with that operating system. I gave up S&M years ago."

"Well, I don't know how to do it."

"Well you should've thought of that before." R2 wheeled into the lift, and his head swiveled around to face Luke. "When you need your next hit, I'll be in the oil sauna. Knock first. In the meantime, you want my advice?--Crack open the manuals. They'll explain everything." His red eye winked mockingly as the lift doors closed.