Episode 1: The Solarium Zeppelin
Blast Thruster and his Dog Star Patrol
Episode 1: The Solarium Zeppelin
A black furred wolf with red stripes, orange hair and green eyes loads a magazine of rockets into a turret on the underside of a rainbow colored zeppelin. His uniform consists of a black PVC jumpsuit with a silver belt and boots to match. On the chest is a rendition of the full moon with a black wolf's paw superimposed upon it. An Old English Sheepdog in the same uniform approaches the wolf on the walkway above and behind him.
"Ah, the new Atomically Infused Zorillium Rockets with Gyroscopic Radio Radar Homing System," the shaggy dog beams in a decidedly Russian/Mad Scientist accent. "I take pride in those, Captain Thruster. But, Blast, are they really necessary?"
"Let's hope not, Boris," Captain Blast Thruster tells his subordinate Lieutenant Commander Boris Pavlov. "But orders are orders. High command head some rumors about the Martians that they might try and sabotage the Icarus on her maiden voyage to Venus. A trip you also helped make possible with your discovery of the electrolight gas solarium."
"Captain," a rather gorgeous blonde Doberman bitch in the feminine version of their uniform says with a smirk. "The Martians are always up to something." Gretta Berlin winks to Boris as her hand subtlety goes to his belt buckle. "But what are you two up to?"
"Gretta..." Boris starts to say before Gretta whips off his belt and as his trousers fall she inadvertently hits Blast on his rump.
"Hey!" Blast thunders. "Lieutenant Berlin! What is the meaning of this!" He then shoves a paw under her skirt. "Not exactly in uniform, are we this morning, eh, Gretta?"
Gretta eeps as she was going down on Boris. "Just what is absolutely necessary, Blast, feel anything you like?"
"Boris," Blast says with a lustful smirk and twinkle in his eye. "I think this bitch needs a little discipline. Sit down and act as a blind while I give this naughty girl what's coming to her, would you?"
"With pleasure, Captain," Pavlov says as Blast pulls Gretta into the turret with him as the big dog plops himself down almost like a sack of potatoes.
"Please do, Boris," Gretta pleads as she kisses his groin. "I feel like blowing something other than my sax right now."
Blast undoes his pants enough to let his cock through. Gretta wraps her muzzle around Boris's member as she presents her rear for yiffing. Sitting down and blocking the view of others with his bulk, Boris caresses Gretta's face and makes sure her hair doesn't get in the way as enjoys her tongue upon his own shaft. Gretta follows her commanding officer's non-verbal direction to sit and impale herself along his length. Captain Thruster's hands wrap around her chest to grope at Gretta's breasts as he pumps her vagina with his engorged phallus. All three canines pant with pleasure as they try to be quiet about their extra-curricular activity. Unfortunately as both males near climax a vixen, black haired with whitish highlights and the traditionally red, black and white fur pattern that is the norm of her species, in the same feminized uniform as Gretta, which actually allows this penetration to happen without disrupting the integrity of the suit, a design that Boris also invented as a modification for just this purpose, comes along and almost drops her clipboard in amazement at what she sees. Putting hands on her hips she admonishes them.
"GRETTA!" The vixen exclaims. "Captain, do I need to remind you that there will be humans on this ship, any one of which could be a spy for our superiors? I mean Boris deserves this for all his hard work..."
"Is there an inspection pending, Commander Kayk?" Blast inquires of Commander Patsy Kayk in an annoyed tone. "You may be my assigned second in command and good at many aspects of that; but Gods of Light and Darkness, Patsy! That does not entitle you to be Alpha female!"
Commander Patsy Kayk hangs her head in shame. "Sorry, Blast, I came here to find you for General Patron."
"Uh, Captain," Gretta says in a nervous tone of voice as she gives Boris back his belt. Blast leaps over Boris as the sheepdog quickly gets dressed. "Finish her off in our general quarters, Boris, I'll stall."
"Lieutenant Commander Pavlov!" An elderly black woman, General Mavis Patron calls after the retreating adventuring field tech. "I heard you were aiding Captain Thruster, I would like a word with you about your discovery." Then she looks over at Blast. "I trust the turrets are loaded, Captain?"
"Loaded and ready to launch, General," Blast says honestly meanwhile Boris and Gretta have managed to get his belt back on as the Lieutenant Commander addresses his superior. "What concerns may I attempt to parlay, General?"
"How combustible is this new gas of yours, Pavlov?" Patron commands to know. "And what measures are in place to guard against sabotage?"
"We have uniformed guards at all key areas." Blast reports. "And we have our own moles amid the crowd. At least one of the Venusians and three Mercurians are members of Interpol. There are also Terran members of Interpol among the passenger list. Any Martians boarding will be searched at the checkpoint and their rooms will be checked out by our allies and agents posing as maids."
"Excellent report Captain Thruster." Patron beams. "You have proven once again that the millions spent to make you and your kind was money well spent."
"Solarium is even less likely to combust as Helium, General," Pavlov lectures. "While I shall not be such a boastful person as to claim it is impervious to such blatant acts of sabotage..." Pavlov drones on with the General in rapt attention. Blast puts a pair of finger claws to his eyes and extends them at the general. Gretta nods as Blast makes his escape. Annoyed, Patsy follows.
"We haven't been dismiss..." Patsy starts to say loudly before Blast clamps down on her muzzle to quiet her.
"Pipe down, Patsy," Blasts growls in warning. "I don't want the skin walker to be alerted, I'm going to fetch Tom, Dick and Harry and then have Polly send out a silent alert."
"SKIN WALKER!?!" Patsy almost yells in an incredulous whisper as she gives him a look of utter disbelief. "But we killed them all."
"Not all of them," Blast whispers with an exasperated sigh. "We destroyed a nest in Tel Aviv, but there is more than one nest I'm sure of it."
"What gave her away?" Patsy asks. "She had all the bluster of General Patron when she arrived..." Then she crinkles her nose. "Oh, the smell..." To which Blast just nods. 'I forgot about that from last time."
Blast and Patsy make their way inside to a sealed and semi-private suite of rooms filled with a smoky haze. One whiff tells them the bad news: some of them have been smoking marijuana again. When the wolf and the vixen walk into the room they are the only ones dressed. A naked coyote with feathers braided into his hair strums a banjo while an African Wild Dog bitch whose hair is beaded at the end of long dreadlocks and whose tails beat a set of bongo drums licks his scrotum and suckles his exposed member. In the corner an Akita lays naked on a piano playing a ukulele with a pink poodle femme eating her out while she plays said piano. Lying out on the floor is a pit bull terrier and a beagle both male in the sixty-nine position with the pit bull on top; a trumpet on the one side and a trombone on the other.
Patsy almost swoons as the air is so thick with the intoxication fumes. Only Blast's amorous groping of her rear and rack at random intervals keeps her from passing out. It takes all of her self control not to ape Lieutenant Commander Kala Nubia performing fellatio on Lieutenant Commander Harold "Harry" Windjammer by going down on her Captain. Ensign Takara Kuragawa gives Blast a lustful wink. Polly Poodle, also an Ensign, wags her tail a little faster in response to Blast's presence. Neither Ensign Thomas "Tom" Jackson, the pit bull whose black hair is in an afro, nor Ensign Richard "Dick" Blue who wears his hair and sideburns much like Elvis did acknowledge the pair initially as they are too much into each other, something that amuses both canines of superior rank. Harry gives his Commanding Officer a casual "Howdy" and then the realization dawns on him that the Captain is actually clothed; a revelation that instantly also dawns on the rest of the band as they almost stumble over each other to line up and salute in case someone is watching.
"Just me, gang," Blast says with a wry chuckle that puts everyone at ease. "But don't get too comfy. General Patron has been compromised by a skin walker. Tom, Dick and Harry; I want you three to take care of our deceptive guest and then do a sweep of the whole ship.
"Right on, boss!" Tom says with a smirk. "Time for a bug hunt!"
Dick shakes his head. "Don't get cocky, bud, them things can be a pain in the tail to account for."
"Shoot anyone that smells of those dark ones?" Harry asks superficially.
Blast nods. "I'm counting on you to sniff them out, Harry, no pun intended. Polly, get on the horn to Star Force Central and advise them of the situation."
"Gotcha, Cap'n," Polly says quickly. "Should I check the spy eyes as well?"
Takara glares at Polly before growling: "That's my specialty, Polly!" To which Blast backs her up. "That's going to be Takara's job, Polly. And Taki, I want you to do a quick scan of the robots afterwards. Take Polly along for backup." The pair exchange a conspiratorial glance and then nod as one.
"What about me?" Kala asks.
Blast flashes her a lustful smile as he gives Takara a wink. "Taki, make sure you broadcast what we begin recording to give the impression we are all indisposed. Kala, you, Patsy and myself are going to give our friends a performance of a different sort."
A round of fiendish grins displays on the muzzles o all as those that need to get dressed as Blast and Patsy get undressed. Kala sets up the auto camera as Patsy licks at Blast's scrotum both to give Kala something to get the camera to focus on as it sets up and to get the wolf ready to go. Not that Blast needs much help, but Patsy displays her nether regions for the delight of anyone that can attend a monitor on the zeppelin. When the camera is set up, Kala joins Patsy attending Blast's groin with her muzzle. His emerging phallus is suckled by first Patsy; then Kala as Blast fingers both of their clits with his hand paws. When they get him hard enough Kala and Patsy play rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to ride first.
Kala takes rock; Patsy takes scissors and since rock blunts scissors Kala wins as Patsy lowers her labia to Blast's awaiting muzzle while Kala impales herself along Blast's shaft. Patsy moans as her commanding officer eats her out. Kala pants with pleasure as her Captain thrusts deeply into her folds whilst grinding his hips with her hips. Arching her back, Patsy places her bosom in easy reach of Kala's muzzle as the painted wolf bitch decides she wants to snack on vixen tits. Held in place above and below, Patsy can only moan and groan as she is devoured by the wolves. Kala rides Captain Thruster until she can feel the white hot blast of semen in her womb. Patsy pouts at this as they go to work at getting Blast hard again.
Part of this includes lesbian action as Patsy rubs her pussy against Kala's as the Nubian bitch refuses to share Blast's cock this time. However, once she has gotten him hard, Kala captures Patsy's body and spreads her for Blast and makes herself a muff mattress that the Captain readily takes advantage of. Thrusting deeply within the vixen he sets his muzzle to her tits as Kala slips paw to grope whichever breast Blast deigns not to suckle at a given moment. Patsy whines in pleasure as Kala uses her other paw to claw probe Patsy's tail hole. Their performance is broadcasted throughout the ship as well as the system internet via some hacker as well as Takara who is getting off on the goings on. Polly is near her on the ships only video phone, a monstrous affair with a largish television screen like monitor with an attached microphone and optional headset that almost never gets used by the Patrol as the set was designed with humans in mind instead of canine hybrids like herself. Unfortunately it does not take much convincing at High Command; the General's lifeless body was found this morning. It is impressed on Polly that their superiors want something to interrogate.
"Alright; Dick; Tom;" Harry whispers in a cautionary tone: "I can smell the thing around the corner." All three are pressed against a wall with each toting a heavy disintegrator rifle, each a black spike with a strap for easy carrying, and handles above the gun for firing and greater control with green disks near the pointy end to focus the destructive energy towards a given target. "And BOY! Is it pissed!"
"I'm not hearing much, Harry." Tom reports: "Just Boris yacking off in jargon and Gretta giggling."
"Well I'll be hornswaggled!" Dick exclaims as he takes a look around the corner with his jaw dropping in the proto typical cash register fashion. The skin walker has been forced into its natural form of a six foot tower of jet black ooze in the general shape of a humanoid and trapped in glowing blue rings that randomly rise and fall up and down its gelatinous body. "Boris!" Dick says as he pulls his rifle and approaches in annoyed amazement followed by the other two. "How in Blazes did you accomplish this minor miracle?"
"Ah! There you are, comrades," Boris beams, "I was telling our new guest here all about my newest invention which it has so graciously agreed to allow me to test." The eye spots floating in man shaped mass of nebulous protoplasm turns a dangerous shade of crimson indication the "agreement" was not completely of it choosing. "My new Spectra Ring Nega-Force Neutralizer is designed to detain creatures like itself indefinitely. Unfortunately I have apparently neglected to take into account the comfort level of the prisoner in question and it is most disagreeable at present."
"Has it made any threats of friends scoring to avenge it, Boris?" Harry asks to which Boris just shrugs his shoulders.
"I think it's telepathic," Gretta speculates, "but Boris's machine is rendering those sort of abilities Null and Void."
"Can't be helped, Gretta," Tom states. "If it communicates telepathically it could also be into mind control."
"Exactly, Tom!" Boris booms, "Which is why I have an Extra Sensory Perceptory Liquid Crystal Display to facilitate communication." To which he puts something like an LCD box on the thing that instantly alights: "Damn you, hybrids! Let me out of this contraption! What is it with you people that you have to assume anything like me is out to get you!?!"
"Hey, um, Boris?" Dick inquires in a halting tone to which Boris intones: "What is it, Dick?"
Dick scratches his muzzle and asks: "Anyway we can make our pudding pal a little more...um, translucent?"
"Capital idea, Dick!" Boris says as he adjusts his machined. The skin walker gets a little more transparent. Floating inside is a lot of gear, most of which looks like explosives.
"Uh, huh," Harry says with a smirk, "then what's with the fireworks? Hold the phone! I recognize these bombs: they're Martian!"
"They look like some of the pieces in your trophy case, Harry," Tom observes as he look into the thing. "I think some of them have Martian markings and not the sort of things you can pick up easily on Mars."
"Martian military in fact," Gretta opinionates, "Whatever this thing was supposed to do here, it has something to do with some in the Martian hierarchy."
"C'mon, Dick, let's get our puddin' pal to the brig." Tom suggests of his friend.
To which he agrees: "Right, Tom, we need to let Blast know that we have thing in custody as well."
"Not yet, boys," the voice of an Asian woman says as she comes over the loud speaker and whom everyone recognizes as Takara. "I'm enjoying myself too much."
Later at the team meeting before the big send off, Blast makes sure everyone is in their uniform including ray gun sidearm "just in case". The skin walker incident is on everyone's mind. And the fact the things was carrying Martian explosives is not lost on anyone.
"Alright, gang, we know these things come in cabals of anywhere between four and twelve individual skin walkers." Blast states. "Sleeping arrangements aside," everyone gives Blast a groan before he continues: "no one goes anywhere alone; groups of at least two or more."
"Groups of two can be rather ineffective, boss," Polly relates, "We only have one of those things in custody." Then she thinks of something. "Boris, how many of those neutralizers do you have?"
"About nine now," Boris states. "I hope I have enough. Does High Command have anyone they can send to pick up our fluidic friend?"
"Colonel Professor Vladimir Tesla is coming to grab it." Polly reports to which Boris nods. "Good, good, I've worked with him, he's a good scientist."
"Even so, Boris," Blast says in all seriousness with a hand on Pavlov's shoulder. "I want you to oversee the transfer. And with that I dismiss you all until we leave for Venus in about three hours."
Boris goes straight for the brig and meets his mentor there. The transfer is quick and painless as the human scientist marvels at the dog's ingenuity. Every one else is tuning or otherwise doing maintenance on their instruments. With great fanfare the Icarus leaves Earth's atmosphere. The Dog Star Patrol performs a combination of swing, night club and rockabilly music with Blast as lead male vocals as well as playing various sorts of guitars and Patsy doing the female lead vocals as well as playing bass. Boris does drums backed up by Kala on other percussion instruments. Gretta blows her saxophone with authority while Takara plays her ukulele as well as she can. Harry strums his banjo with pride as Poly tickles the ivory to everyone's delight. Tom on trombone and Dick on trumpet round out the horn section and everyone takes turns on back up vocals when needed. The band plays on a raised dais with the passengers dancing around them.
Elf like Venusians; dwarf like Mercurians dance around them as well as humans from Earth and Luna. Also there are other hybrids in attendance but nothing really suspicious about the gathered yet. Blast notices some diminutive humanoids that look like what has been traditionally ascribed to as goblins that he knows are what are known as Low born Martians or Commoner Martians; more human sized hobgoblin like beings known to the rest of the system as the High born Martians or Martian Nobles; larger and scruffy bugaboo like beings known as Martian Brutes or Martian Thugs as they often serve the Martian Mafia as leg-breakers, enforcers and bodyguards. In fact the High Martian official of his planet is dressed in an old fashioned, by Earth standards, Nazi uniform that the Martians have adopted along with that much maligned and thankfully defunct organization's dark mindset and methods. The Low Martians appear to be the servants of their noble cousin with the Brutes flanking the High Martians in the general stance and observable attitude of bodyguards. They are noted and mentally marked by the band but there is very little they can do from the stage. Blast Thruster and his Dog Star Patrol play well into the night and early morning hours as is their custom.
After their final performance of the evening Blast straps himself into his bubble helmet and rocket pack to spend some time outside. Patsy soon follows, to spend some quality time alone with Blast if nothing else. The Icarus is well on its way to Venus. In the twinkling twilight of the Galactic Void loneliness pervades as the utter pointlessness of their existence pervades as well. Out of the corner of their collective eye the canines see the lazy fat boomerang shape of a Martian Scout. Knowing their blasters will be laughable in effectiveness against the raider Blast heads for one of the rocket turrets. The Martian ship takes a few pot shots at Blast but they never really had a hope of hitting him. Once he enters the turret the Raider orbits in an aggressive manner until a few key placed zorillium rockets converts it to so much space junk. Patsy catches an older High Martian at one of the portals who looks none too pleased at the display. In the morning they find out just how much Blast's action had displeased the Martian diplomat. When they arrive at the dining chamber of the zeppelin for breakfast, the Dog Star Patrol finds an irate Martian Noble arguing with the airship's captain.
"The act was intolerable!" The elder High Martian bellows at the Captain, a wizened Asian man who has his arms crossed as he give Blast a dark look.
"Your countrymen fired on us last night." Patsy states in a matter of fact manner as she recognizes the Martian she saw last night.
"Attacking us could be taken as an act of war, Baron." Blast growls in an intimidating manner. "I am an established member of Earth's Star Force. I my not have been on official duty but the raider shot at me without provocation. When I entered the turret that should have gave the crew of the raider the clue that backing off would have been a good idea."
Baron Romulus Rommel glares at the Dog Star Patrol who are dressed in their formal uniforms before grumbling: "I retract my protest for now, dogs, but I am NOT satisfied."
"You want blood don't you?" Blast growls. "Usually a bully stands down when he gets a bloody nose."
"How DARE you!" Baron Rommel bellows as a sword of angry purple psychic force springs to life in his hand. "I DEMAND satisfaction and I want it NOW!"
"Challenge accepted, bully," Blast says coolly as a similar blade of silver energy manifest in his own hand. "Shall we dance?"
"As you; wish; dog," Baron Rommel responds in a halting fashion.
The look on the Martian's face clearly registes the fact that Blast can match him in the manifestation and apparent use of psychic swords is something he did not expect. Rommel lunges a strike aimed at Blast's heart. Side stepping the attack, Thruster makes a probing slash to test the Martian's defenses. Easily parrying the weak slash Rommel tries to secure a hit on Blast's left leg. Blast blocks this and uses his free hand to punch Rommel in the face. Infuriated at having his nose crushed, Rommel makes a desperate thrust that temporarily paralyzes Blast's free arm. Dropping low, Blast executes a leg sweep followed up by a head shot with his sword. Headless, the corpse of the Martian Nobleman diplomat falls to the floor. The crowd that had gathered for the spectacle gives Captain Thruster a standing ovation as he goes with his team to eat. High Command registers an official complaint at the incident which is summarily ignore3d as the Martians threaten war if Blast's head is not delivered to them.
On board the Icarus, Martian assassins target the Patrol members in small incidents that are hardly acknowledged as those members of the Dog Star Patrol attacked are able to kill their assailants rather easily. In addition to this a number of other incidents near the key areas of airship operation are recorded in escalating chronological increments. The only clue as to their point of origin is the fact that all these remotes are of techno magical construction using largely Martian materials. While blaming the Martians would be easy, only Venus and Mercury have mechaniks of sufficient ability to make automatons. Add to this the fact that all the Martians on board are either dead or in the brig and the likelihood of Martian sabotage gets steadily more preposterous. Boris is put in charge of the investigation under Blast's auspice. Other members of the team are put on alert as they fraternize with the passengers as is their custom. Although the Venusians are looked at more closely than Merucians two types of Venusians are present.
More familiar to the people of Earth and visitors to Venus are the light skinned people who resemble the elves of Nordic and certain Celtic peoples. But also present are their darker skinned cousins of which very little is known. According to the conjecture of High Command, the Venusian High Council is conspiratorially silent to such inquiries, these darker skinned Venusians act as a kind of "secret police" to keep order behind the scenes. Most prominent among the Venusians is Astro-Aviation Industrialist Xaviki Zastron who has been uncharacteristically friendly towards Earth in recent weeks. His usual stance is one that Earth has no business building starships and should leave such matters to more experienced planets and companies, like his own. Although he is usually quiet and reserved he does decided to make an appearance on Polly's weekly Galactic radio program: "Interplanetary Interviews with Polly Poodle."
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen of all species." Polly coos into her radio microphone. "This is Polly Poodle with my Interplanetary Interview program on the Galactic Broadcasting System and sponsored this week by Celestial Carnival Cruise Lines. This week we are recording live from our sponsor's newest ship, the Icarus. Currently we are on schedule for our inaugural voyage to Venus; a feat made possible by my dear friend and fellow Dog Star Patrol member, Boris Pavlov who will no doubt thrill some of you with his astounding technical expertise later in the program. But first we are honored to have with us the esteemed Astro-Aviation Industrialist of Venus: Xaviki Zastron."
"Thank you, Ensign Poodle," Xaviki beams into his microphone. "I as well will be very interested in Lieutenant Commander Pavlov's technical report. This ship is truly a marvel.It would have been better if it were developed by an already established Astro-Aviation institution instead of such an inexperienced institution which unfortunately is your planet in this field. My own company has been in this business for five centuries. But as your people's colloquialisms go this can be summed up as beginner's luck."
Backstage Pavlov frowns as he and Takara engage in some heavy petting.
"Well," Boris sighs, "at least the old man is back to his usual soap box bashing us as too young and inexperienced for our own good."
"I wonder how keyed up Blast is?" Takara speculates. "He supposedly gave this windbag a Vee Eye Pee tour."
"That's a good question." Pavlov says as he turns to a radio phone: "Boris Pavlov to Blast Thruster; Boris Pavlov to Blast Thruster; Come in, Blast."
"Blast here, go ahead, Boris," Blast radios in. "What's up?"
Takara giggles as she takes the microphone: "Just checking up on you, fearless leader, how did the tour go with the Venusian Vulture?"
"Watch it, Ensign," Blast growls, "he's not too far behind me up here."
Boris and Takara gaze at each other in concerned horror. "Blast," Boris says in a low voice. "Master Zastron is being interviewed by Polly right now."
"Not again!" Blast yells before the radio goes dead.
Takara activates a spy eye that captures a dramatic battle. A human shaped mass of black ooze shimmers in the camera light. Blast manages to reflect its own disintegration ray back at it with one of many special shields that were put in place up there for a similar purpose. Knowing his use of his own ray gun could jeopardize the ship and thus the mission, Blast leads the skin walker into the ships zorillium crystal forest that converts solarium into motive force with the elemental forces direct from the sun. Random pulses of concentrated light shoot forth between the individual crystals as mega lasers white hot in intensity. Each crystal is at least six feet tall with a few reaching as high as ten feet tall on swiveling bases. This way the lasers can be channeled if need be. Zigzagging through the chamber, Blast intentionally knocks into key crystals trapping the skin walker and setting it up for a super crossfire of ultra lasers that utterly destroys it. Among the remains is a Venusian event recorder that was copying the tour as Blast was giving it.
Later at a team meeting before they are scheduled for their second all night performance Boris examines the recorder. Behind closed doors Tom gets his stick cleaned by a very enthusiastic Polly. Gretta lays on her back as Dick gives her a pounding while Takara rides Blast's shaft while sucking on Harry's shaft. Patsy and Kala are examining each other's bosoms among other things until Boris is overcome by a revelation.
"Insidious!" Boris exclaims. "Industrial espionage on such a grand scale that is certainly unprecedented."
"Don't tell us that blow hard Zastron is behind this?" Polly growls in an annoyed inquisitive fashion as she prepares to impale herself on Tom's shaft.
"Is he on the tape, Boris?" Tom asks in between grunts of pleasure.
Boris nods and plays a portion of the disc where he is addressing the skin walker. "He hired the cabal to destroy the Icarus but steal its secrets. I caught one, Blast destroyed another, but we still have three left."
"You sure about that, Boris?" Kala asks incredulously as she runs a hand through her dreadlocks. "I mean, that's not many."
"C'mon, Kala," Patsy urges, pulling Kala outside. "Let's have a private party."
Kala just smirks and allows herself to be pulled away. In a somewhat secluded area the painted wolf bitch gets serviced by the vixen in a most pleasurable fashion until a trio of guards walks up to them. Unfortunately these guards are actually the last three skin walkers in disguise and once they ascertain that the girls are by themselves they drop the façade and heard the pair between them. Pseudo pods strike from their central masses like tentacles to grab and then invade the canines. Between involuntary moans they try to cry out for help. Quickly the pair are engulfed by two of the skin walkers and are continually sexually assaulted even when they are set upon by Blast. But the third skin walker engulfs Blast molesting him by suckling his cock and invading his tail hole. Temporarily shutting himself down, Blast does his best to fool the skin walker into trying to assimilate himself into itself. Patsy and Kala are fighting in an exercise in futility which only gets their attackers off even more. Eventually they merge into one huge entity and it is at this time that Blast strikes. Radiating psychic force he splatters the formerly sentient goo all over the area.
"How?" Patsy asks to which Blast just smirks: "I sensed them and their plan and decided to try and perform a psycho-nova."
"Turning the engulf and merging abilities of these maliciously intelligent sets protoplasm into a liability rather than a strength." Kala says as she thinks aloud. "But, uh, Blast," Kala says in a fearful tone as some of the blobs merge on their own and starts to move around. "Should that be happening?"
"Damn!" Blast swears. "Kept too much in reserve." Kala and Patsy leap behind Blast in fear as twelve small blobs run away collectively yelling: "Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!" over and over as they enter the pipes of the space dirigible. This prompts Blast to run back into their suite yelling: "Heads up and suit up everyone! Our skin walker friends have each split up into four smaller versions of themselves. We gotta take 'em out before cause mischief!"
Everyone scrambles to do just that as they grab electro-pulse disruptor rifles, which look like the misbegotten spawn of a tuning fork and a Tommy Gun in the highly stylized manner of everything else in their reality. They go out in pairs: Tom and Takara; Dick and Gretta; Harry and Kala; Boris and Polly; Blast and Patsy. Dick radios back: "Hey, Blast?" to which Blast answers: "Yeah, Dick?" "We put all the remaining low Martians in the brig, right?" "Yeah, Dick and if it is a goblin, shoot anyway we can claim mistaken identity later." "Riiight!" Dick then blasts the camouflaged mini skin walker and splats it only to be hit with a paralysis beam from something in one of its partners. Gretta goes full auto on her weapon and manages to splat two before the remaining blob goes into hiding. A general alert to security makes sure all persons on board not necessary for running the ship are remanded to quarters.
In the passage ways reserved for military personnel a humanized robot with a cylindrical body and tank tread feet skates its way through; using the blaster turret on its head to blast everyone it see. Pavlov and Poodle blast it to smithereens which takes cares of the one blob that was piloting it and the other blob manning the turret as the mechanized man is pushed into oblivion. But they are in turn paralyzed by it two fellows following along the cables overhead, of which Boris manages to blast another one before he succumbs to the effects of the rays. Tom and Taki unwittingly walk into an ambush as four blobs surround them and blast them with paralysis beams but both dogs go down fighting and each one takes out two of their attackers before collapsing. Blast tracks down one of them in Xaviki Zastrom's suite giving a report of it activites. After splatting the mini skin walker he puts the industrialist under arrest for attempted sabotage and industrial espionage.
"Master Zastron," Polly inquires as she acts as a news reporter once again. "Just one question..."
"Why?" Xaviki replies with a self satisfied smirk. "I would have thought it would be obvious. If this grand endeavor were to fail it would give my position more credence. My skin walker spy was broadcasting when your talented Captain Thruster killed it, which I then relayed back home for my company to utilize. The skin walkers would then sabotage the ship in the shapes of Martians, thus throwing suspicion on them."
"So there never was a threat from Mars," Blast growls, "you greedy son of a stump!" Blast then gives the restrained Zastron a punch in the gut. "You could have gotten us all killed!"
"I wasn't worried." Zastron gloats. "But then I had prepared a teleportation chamber for this part of my plan." He then sighs. "My wonderful plan, it was so well thought out. And then you mangy dogs had to go and ruin it! I would have gotten away with all of this! I would have gotten away with it if not for the inconvenient interference of you meddling dogs. Curse you; Blast Thruster!"
"All in a week's work, bastard," Blast gloats.
Then the ship is wracked with explosions which causes Blast to grab Xaviki by his jackets and growl quite fiercely: "WHERE!?!" to which Zastron goes positively pale. "I...I don't know!" He stammers. "Please believe me, Captain, if I knew I'd tell you."
"You're too much of a coward to try a pyrrhic victory" Blasts in annoyance as he agrees with the criminal industrialist. Then he goes to the radio phone and calls Pavlov: "Blast Thruster to Boris Pavlov; Blast Thruster to Boris Pavlov; Boris! See what you can tell me about the ship's integrity."
"We're crippled, Blast," Boris quips. "But I'm not sure for how much longer. Repairs need to begin as soon as we land on Venus."
"I gotta bead on the bugger, Blast," Dick radios in. "It's the last skin walker. Permission requested to send the black blob back to Hell."
"Granted, Dick," Blast radios back, "But be careful; the ship is bruised bad enough as is. Any more punishment on the systems could blow us to smithereens!"
"Gotcha, Alpha," Dick replies, "One Sniper Special Shot comin' right up!"
Will Dick take out the gelatinous saboteur? Or will his shot blow the Icarus to Kingdom Come? Tune in next time for Episode 2 to find out!