They walked towards the small village of tents, entering a larger tent labelled 'Inventory: Cybernetics'. Inside they found a range of boxes and parts strewn across the ground.
Lenny rummaged through a pile and with help from Jack, pulled out a large rectangular box. They stood it up. It was about six feet high and four feet wide. The front was transparent, plastic like material, that displayed the SBT-22 in mint condition.
Waterloo was right, it stood in the package with dead eyes and a silly grin. It resembled a Caucasian man in his late 30's with a clean-shaven face and neatly cut, sandy blonde hair. Its eyes were crystal blue. Overall, it was rather gentleman like in appearance.
"Strewth, this poor bugger aint anatomically correct," said Lenny in dismay.
"Well, they weren't designed with such vulgarity in mind," Waterloo replied.
"Jack mate," asked Lenny, "can you go find this poor bastard some clothes? No need to telegraph to the world that this fella is a glorified Ken doll."
While Jack went off to fetch the SBT-22 some clothes, Lenny removed the android from its packaging. After locating a control console concealed beneath the layer of silicone gel that gave the illusion of an ever so slight pot belly, he switched the SBT-22 to start-up mode.
"Now the software for this fella is no longer commercially available," said Lenny, "however, I've directed its CPU to download the data from digitaldodgybootleggers.cos, so we're all good."
STATE LANGUAGE, it said in low, mechanical monotone.
The eyes remained dead and the face expressionless.
"English," replied Waterloo.
Rotating rings appeared in the android's eyes as it downloaded updates from the pan cosmic omninet or more specifically, digitaldodgybootleggers.cos.
STATE ACCENT.
"British," replied Waterloo, "Received Pronunciation."
Once again, the rotating rings appeared in the android's eyes.
DISPOSITION REQUIRED?
Waterloo thought about this for a moment.
"Cheerful, pleasant, positive, upbeat but with a dark and stoic, sense of humour."
The rings returned.
STATE OCCUPATION.
"Assistant to secret agents, no, an 'au pair' to two veteran man children, masquerading as secret agents."
The rings returned once more.
WOULD YOU ALSO LIKE TO DOWNLOAD A VISUAL ART APPRECIATION EXPANSION PACK?
"What?" asked a puzzled Waterloo, "ah, no, absolutely not," she said while she shook her head in confused disdain, "I mean honestly, who gives a flying fudge about art, anyway … but; actually…" pondered Waterloo, "he should be able to appreciate music relevant to his age group. Yes, make him a fan of Indie rock."
FAVOURITE BAND?
"Ah, um…" contemplated Waterloo, "it was then that she noticed the pallet containing unopened cartons of custard powder, "his favourite band is Custard."
UNDERSTOOD – NO VISUAL ART APPRECIATION EXPANSION PACK BUT APPRECIATION FOR INDIE ROCK WITH FAVOURITE BAND CUSTARD AND A PASSION FOR EXPERIMENTAL ARTHOUSE FILM.
"No wait, I didn't say – oh hell."
The green rings in the android's eyes rotated for a single revolution.
"Well that's that then," accepted Waterloo.
PRODUCT DISCLOSURE. ONCE START UP IS INITIATED IT CANNOT BE INTERUPTED. UPDATES DOWNLOADED TO THIS DEVICE ARE QUANTUM ENCRYPTED AND PERMANENTLY ENGRAVED ONTO THE FOURTH DIMENSIONAL HARD DRIVE. BY AGREEING TO THESE UPDATES, YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THESE SOFTWARE MODIFICATIONS ARE PERMANENT. DO YOU AGREE?
"Yes," Waterloo replied.
This time the SBT-22's eyes blinked in bright blue flashes. The process took several minutes.
Jack soon returned with some clothing.
"Is this all you could find mate?" Lenny asked.
The starfish furball carried an assortment of mismatched, old-fashioned clothes.
"It's bad enough," added Lenny, "that this poor bastard isn't anatomically correct, and that he's gunna sound and act like a quirky pomped up pom, but that now we also gotta dress him up like Austin Powers crossed with an op-shop beatnik pimp?"
"We make do with what we have," said Waterloo.
They put the clothes on the SBT-22.
"Okay, I think it's ready to be activated," Waterloo said.
"You familiar with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Waterloo?" asked Lenny.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Waterloo replied, "turn it on."
Lenny pressed a button that was hidden behind the left ear of the SBT-22.
Everyone stood back.
The android blinked its eyes as it looked around.
After a few moments, it sprang into action.
"Greetings!" it said in a loud and succinctly British voice, "I am a Labori Systems SBT-22, manufactured in the Vega star system, 978 Sol standard years post destruction of Primordial Earth."
"Hello SBT-22," smiled Waterloo.
"Hello," the SBT-22 replied with a polite and charming tone, "and how may I be of service?"
"Travel through time to the end of the Cretaceous," said Waterloo before emitting a long and frustrated sigh, "convince retired 'Agent' Big Ham to return to what's left of the Primordial Earth Protectorate."
"Yes madam, and is that all that will be required of me?"
"No, I'm afraid," this time Waterloo was visibly shaking with stress, disappointment and anxiety, "after retrieving," she sighed once more, "'Agent' Big Ham, I need you to travel to the early 2000's and convince another 'agent', 'Agent' Himbo to also reenlist in the honourable Agency's service."
"Sounds like a piece of cake madam," smiled the SBT-22.
Commandant Waterloo let out more of a grunt than a laugh, "Once you have them both, travel back to here, about three hours from the time you leave. This will allow us time to prepare for their arrival," she turned to Lenny, "can you prep SBT-22 and send him on his way."
"Aye, aye, Commandant," saluted Lenny in a jokingly manner.
"I'll text you the mission specifics," she said as she left the tent with her intern Bob.
The SBT-22 continued to stand there in the tent and smile.
"Alright you overgrown Ken doll, let's get you prepped for travel."
The SBT-22 followed Lenny and Jack the chocolate starfish, out of the tent and towards the Hino and the purple port-a-loo.
Lenny's phone pinged. He read the text before he briefed the SBT-22.
"Now this," said Lenny as he tapped the port-a-loo, "is an old pooper retrofitted for travel across time and relative dimensions in space."
The SBT-22 looked on with a smile, absorbing the mission briefing.
Lenny opened the port-a-loo door. The space inside was empty, except for what had been the button to flush. However, the toilet was gone. The faux capacitor was fixed to the back wall but emitted no light.
"Now there's enough space in here for you, but when you pick up Agent Big Ham, then you might want to use the additional storage space behind the back panel. Took a bit of dimensional origami but you'll have more than enough space back there. Just press the old poop flush button to access this."
"I understand," nodded the SBT-22.
"Temporal-astronavigation is already pre-set for three temporal space jumps, okay?"
Lenny pointed to where the mirror and basin had been, before he had ripped these out and installed a small operating console and LCD display.
"Understood," nodded the SBT-22.
"Now the first jump will be a bit tough. You'll need to hold on because we need to manually trigger the temporal wormhole from our end and fling you into it.
"Okay," said the SBT-22.
"You'll arrive about 66 million years into the past."
"Yes," said the SBT-22.
"You'll land just outside a reptile/dinosaur park. This is where you'll find Agent Big Ham. You gotta convince him to come with you."
"Piece of cake."
"Good, now the second jump will take you to Brisbane, back in 2002. You should only be a block away from a 'Betelgeuselian Jiu-Jitsu' gym. It'll be called 'Himbo's Gym'. This is where you'll find Agent Himbo."
"No problems."
Lenny continued to read Waterloo's text message, "Now, apparently, Agent Big Ham has some beef against Agent Himbo. Commandant Waterloo does not want you to mention Himbo to Big Ham, until after you arrive in Brisbane, back in 2002."
"White lies of omission," said the SBT-22, "affirmative."
"Once you retrieve Agent Himbo, your third and last jump, will be right back here, about three hours from now."
"Wouldn't it be prudent of me to explain to both agents, as to why I need to retrieve them?"
Lenny looked at the text again, "Waterloo says, that that's on a 'need to know' basis mate."
"Oh, I see," remarked the SBT-22, "and clearly I, do not need to know."
"Yeah," agreed Lenny, "now if you can just step into this pooper mate, we'll load you, along with it, up onto the trebuchet."
The SBT-22 stepped into the purple time travelling port-a-loo.
"Now remember," reaffirmed Lenny, just before he closed the door, "the first jump's gunna be a bit rough."
"Well, it is a good thing that I don't possess a stomach then," smiled the SBT-22.
"That's the spirit mate," said Lenny as he closed the door, "alright Jack, load up this temporal pooper carrying the droid to the trebuchet, we've got some astrophysics to do."
Jack used the Hino's crane to lift the port-a-loo up to the tray. Lenny climbed up and connected the top of it to the plutonium powered trebuchet.
He hopped down and climbed into the driver's seat. Jack was already seated in the passenger's seat.
"And here we go," said Lenny.
The truck roared down the grassy slope and onto the dirt track. Jack took the opportunity to pop a cassette into the old school tape player. Doctorin' The Tardis by The Timelords, AKA The KLF, AKA same diff, boomed inside the cabin.
"What's this crap?" complained Lenny.
Jack replied with a series of grunts, barks and hoots.
"90's electronic house music?" questioned Lenny, "what's wrong with yah?"
Jack shrugged.
"What about some real music like Cold Chisel or Acca Dacca?"
"Pffffffft," snorted Jack, it sounded like a fart.
"Well, whatever," Lenny replied, "alright Jack, hit the nitrous, here we go!"
The Hino hit 88 miles per hour…
The trebuchet flung the purple port-a-loo…
Inside the port-a-loo, the faux capacitor lit up with life, triggering the old television antenna on the roof of the port-a-loo, to open a temporal wormhole. The port-a-loo tumbled through. The temporal wormhole closed and space-time returned to normal. Lenny eased on the breaks to bring the Hino to a standstill.
"Good luck," said Lenny, "let's hope you make it back to the Cretaceous and in one piece instead of jumping into Jupiter or something."
He turned to his intern Jack, "Crap mate, I didn't think that was going to work."
"Neither did I," replied Jack with a series of grunts and hoots.
Unfortunately, they both looked up through the windscreen of the Hino and noticed a ship jumping into the fabric of space-time above the farm. It was fluorescent green with sharp and jagged edges. Hatches opened up along the flanks of the ship as what looked like giant, heavily muscled, bipedal goannas wearing gas masks and carrying plasma rifles, leapt from the hatches. Supported by jet packs firing blue fames, they floated down towards the grounds surrounding the homestead. What was left of the Agency personnel and their alien interns scurried about in panic. They armed themselves and took up positions behind trees and the wreckage of old cars.
"Well, looks like we're under attack," said Lenny in mild alarm and morbid acceptance, "dunno who these green and gung-ho, beefed-up fellas are, but it can't be good."
The first descending space goannas to near the ground started firing their plasma rifles at the Agency personnel and alien interns. Shimmering flashes of purple light absorbed the plasma fire with ease. The bolts were deflected by the forcefield protecting the homestead and surrounding grounds.
"Hah! Look at that Jack," smiled Lenny, "the forefield generator we set up is working like a charm, those big arse, gas breathing lizards aint got a chance… Give up and go home yah silly bastards!" Lenny roared as he pushed the top half of his body out of the driver's window, punching the sky in triumph.
Incidentally, one of the descending space goannas noticed the forcefield generator. It wasn't too hard to discern on account that it was big and red with the something like the logo for The Who, embossed on the top. Also spray-painted in white across all four sides were the words, 'BIG ARSE FORCEFIELD GENERATOR'. Lenny had thought that at the time of installation, this would help to prevent alien interns (some of whom were quite literally green under the gills) from accidently backing vans and forklifts into it. Also, it was conveniently set up outside of the forcefield it generated. Out on a hill, elevated and in plain sight and with a series of signs mounted on star pickets indicating 'THIS WAY TO THE FORCEFIELD GENERATOR'. Lenny took no chances, as stated, quite a lot of those alien interns were quite literally green behind the gills.
One of the descending space goannas simply pointed its plasma rifle down and over towards the generator and in a volley of plasma bolts, destroyed it. The forcefield collapsed, allowing the descending space goannas to fire at the Agency personnel and interns at will. They returned fire, but the descending space goannas possessed lime green force fields that shielded them from the weapons fire.
"Awe yeah?" sighed Lenny as he watched in horror as Agency personnel and extraterrestrial interns were blown apart in volleys of plasma rifle fire, "awe nah…"
It was like watching a horrific explosion of all the colours of the pan cosmic rainbow, with all the different kinds of blood and guts imaginable. Lenny watched in hope and desperation as several Agency personnel and alien interns rushed towards the homestead. The larger interns pushed or picked up car wrecks, assembling makeshift barricades that surrounded the homestead.
"Nah, yeah, yeah, nah … yeah, well, it looks like they've got the homestead pretty fortified though. Our guys should be able to quickly reconfigure their weapons to penetrate those portable shield generators and repel these…"
A huge bolt of blue plasma fired from the ship, causing the homestead to violently explode. Car parts, body parts and chunks of charred corpses were sent soaring into the air. A furry tentacle made it all the way to the Hino. It slapped the windscreen with a sloppy wet thud, leaving a smear of light purple blood. One alien intern that looked like a five-legged bat crossed with a tree fern and with three heads mounted on giraffelike necks, two sets of leathery dragonfly wings and a shell on its back made of what looked like coral coated in the leather of a buffalo's scrotum, stumbled around backwards (or forwards?). It was on fire. Shortly afterwards, it collapsed, convulsed, died and then exploded.
Like a deflating whoopee cushion, Lenny let out a long and slobbering sigh, "Awe nah, awe yeah, awe nah-nah-naaah… Awe hell! Awe crap! Fudge! Fudge me dead! Fudge me righteous! Fudging hell!" he roared as he thumped and punched the steering wheel a few times in frustration.
Lenny turned his head gravely towards Jack the chocolate starfish and smirked in a mixture of sad acceptance and absurdist humour, "Well … all's well that ends well mate. Now there's an old school kinetic firearm in that glove box. I'll head back down the hill and try to run as many of those green lizard blow hards over as I can. Now, while I do that, you fire some hot slugs of lead from the window. All good mate? Got it?"
Jack kind of nodded/bowed and grunted in agreement.
"Right yah cockheads," resigned Lenny, "say hello to Mister Hino. Time to play pop goes the lizards."
Lenny popped a new cassette into the tape player, Too Much, Too Young, Too Fast by Airbourne, boomed from the Hino's cab. Lenny dropped the clutch and sped the Hino back down the hill towards the raging inferno that was the homestead. Jacked grabbed the Beretta handgun from the glove box and started firing off clips from his window…
Meanwhile, somewhere between times and spaces, the purple port-a-loo tumbled through the temporal wormhole. The SBT-22 was flung about like a pebble in a rock tumbler. The ceiling light flashed red as the red-alert alarm boomed away.
"Oh my, this is indeed a rough ride," he shouted to himself in alarm.
Eventually, somewhere 66 million years ago, on what would eventually be known as the Yucatán peninsula, the mouth of the temporal wormhole opened up on the heavily jungled slope of a volcano. The port-a-loo flew through and proceeded to tumble and bounce down the slope, it tumbled and bounced, bounced and tumbled and kept tumbling and bouncing, bouncing away, tumbling away, tumbling and bouncing as it were, on and on, on and on down the jungled slope of the volcano. It kept tumbling, tumbling here, bouncing there and tumbling and bouncing some more. It just kept on tumbling on and on and on and on and bouncing here and there and over here and also over there. On and on it tumbled and bounced, bounced and tumbled, over and over and when it seemed like it was almost over…
It just tumbled and bounced down the slope some more. It tumbled and bounced repetitively, bounced and tumbled and kept tumbling and bouncing, bouncing away, tumbling away, tumbling and bouncing as it were, on and on, on and on down the jungled slope of the volcano. It kept tumbling, tumbling here, bouncing there and tumbling and bouncing some more. It just kept on tumbling on and on and on and on and bouncing here and there and over here and also over there. On and on it tumbled and bounced, bounced and tumbled, over and over and when it really seemed like it was finally over…
It just kept on tumbling and bouncing down the slope. It tumbled and bounced repetitively over and over, bounced and tumbled and kept tumbling and bouncing, bouncing away, tumbling away, tumbling and bouncing as it were, on and on, on and on down the jungled slope of the volcano. It kept tumbling, tumbling here, bouncing there and tumbling and bouncing some more. It just kept on tumbling on and on and on and on and bouncing here and there and over here and also over there. On and on it tumbled and bounced, bounced and tumbled, over and over and when it seemed like it was over… It was.
The purple port-a-loo came to a perfect standing position near the base of the volcano. Moments later, the door opened and the SBT-22 stepped out. He adjusted his pin striped jacket and bow tie and then straightened his polyester trousers before retying the shoelaces to his ten pin bowling shoes.
As he stood back up, he looked at compound in the valley below. It consisted of an assortment of concrete buildings erected on a raised concrete platform. There was also an old rocket ship sitting on a weathered launch pad. The entire compound was enclosed in rusty red steel walls. The SBT-22 used his multi-optics system to zoom into the compound, switching to infrared.
"Well, that must be the reptile/dinosaur park," he said cheerfully to himself, "I see what looks like enclosures for an assortment of amphibians, reptiles and dinosaurs. I guess it is finally time, to meet retired Agent Big Ham."
He took a few steps but stopped abruptly as a giant rampaging rhinoceros appeared out of nowhere and raced right by. A metallic object that flashed blue like a cop car, protruded from its backside. The rhinoceros was chased by a horde of Mongolians roaring angrily as they road dirt bikes. Some shot arrows aimlessly at the raging rhino's rump.
"Well," said the SBT-22 and he straightened his jacket and adjusted his bow tie, "that was most unusual."
He opened a link to the pancosmic omninet and streamed Hymn For A Droid by Psychedelic Porn Crumpets. He sang instrumental and played air guitar to the tune as it jammed away inside his gelatinous synthetic brain. The SBT-22 strolled happily off into the jungle, towards the direction of the compound. He lightly brushed by the branches of a shrub, as the branches moved, they momentarily showed a trail sign that read…
PRIVATE PROPERTY – FUDGE RIGHT OFF
TRESPASSERS WILL BE FED TO THE GIGANOTOSAURUS
AND THEN THE SUBSEQUENT EXCREMENT RE-FED TO THE UTAHRAPTORS