"So," shouted Max, over the increasingly loud rumble, "can your capsule take out a battle-tank?"

"Yeah sure, no problem," replied EJ. "It could take out a hundred battletanks. It eats battletanks for brunch. Its nickname is cap-the-battletank-slayer-sule. It laughs in the face of megaton-yield plasma cannons. It scoffs at anti-matter missiles. It positively drools at the prospect of laying the spank down on battle-tanks, fusion-forged armour and all. Chunk of muffin."

"Seriously?"

EJ beamed proudly at him. "No of course not, you amusingly dense barista. That was my first attempt at sarcasm."

Max had by nature always been a fairly placid individual. Very few things made him angry. Being cut off in traffic, having his parking spot taken, waiting for hours on hold—he generally accepted these little indignities of everyday life with good grace. His friends all agreed that it was very annoying. He did tend to get bothered if served a coffee that was the wrong temperature, but only a little bothered.

In fact, just about the only thing that had ever gotten Max genuinely furious wasn't even really a thing—it was a person. This person was his big brother, George. Somehow, with uncanny and unerring accuracy, George knew exactly how to push Max's buttons. Whether it was holding him down and dripping saliva onto his face (the secret to a really good flow of saliva, George admitted later in life, was to think about roast chicken) or putting him into the bin and then forgetting to get him back out again, his brother had been the master at wakening the rage that was usually buried so deeply in Max's psyche.

So enraged had Max become at times that he could remember seeing red. Not figuratively, but actually. A red mist would descend upon him and he would launch himself at his only brother, intent upon wreaking an incoherent, mindless, blood-soaked revenge. George would generally laugh, pick him up by the ankles and put him back in the bin again.

Max could still distinctly remember that red mist, even though he hadn't seen it for years. Until now.

Oblivious to Max's internal turmoil, EJ continued to smile happily. "So, how did I do?"

"Well," shouted Cam, thoughtfully (which was quite an achievement), "you probably laid it on a little thick. Sarcasm is generally best used—"

"Cameron!" interrupted Mel. "You may be the love of my life, but don't think that will stop me permanently maiming you if you say one more word about the correct use of sarcasm!" She turned on EJ. "And you! You stupid, stupid...hologram! You got us into this mess, how the hell are you going to get us out of it?"

"I'm not," bellowed EJ over the ever increasing noise. "I am just a hologram—a nobody. You guys are the ones with the actual bodies. And, if you'll just give me the chance, I can significantly increase those bodies' kick-arsability."

As the already deafening noise ratcheted up another notch, the group was suddenly bathed in dazzling light. And then, abruptly, the noise stopped. The light swept away from them, shone briefly on their stolen spaceship and then winked out, leaving them in darkness and silence.

Or at least relative darkness and silence. The pearlescent moonlight still provided enough illumination to reveal, parked in mid-air above the paddock, a large cube, some twenty metres or so in diameter. A featureless grey cube, emitting a low humming sound, across which waves of lights periodically shimmered.

"Bugger," muttered EJ. "It wasn't the earthquake."

Cora stared up at the apparition, suspended above them in apparent defiance of anything gravity might have to say on the matter. "What is that thing?"

EJ blinked in surprise. "Why it's the battle-tank, of course."

"Battle-tank? But it's just a box. Quite a pretty box, with all those lights, but just a box. What's it going to do, squash us?"

The hologram's expression was grim. "If we're lucky."

Almost as if it had heard them, the box began to descend.

"How come it's quiet now when it was so noisy before?" asked Max. "And why didn't we see it coming? It was like it appeared out nowhere."

"Standard Rigellian tactics for invading low-tech worlds," replied EJ. "Shock and awe, I believe your military types call it. The rumble scrambles the primitive brains of the natives, while the ship stays cloaked until it can suddenly appear right in their faces. Of course in our case—"

He was interrupted by a rending, crunching noise.

"What the hell is that?" snapped Max, although he already had a horrible suspicion as to exactly what it was.

Cam gave his friend's shoulder a consoling squeeze. "Um, sorry mate. I think that Rigellian battle-tank might have just parked on your car."

The horrible cacophony continued for a few more seconds, until with final, emphatic crunch, the battle-tank settled on the ground. The red, which had begun to fade from Max's vision, was emphatically back. Slowly, he turned to face EJ.

"Do it," he growled, through gritted teeth. "Weaponise me. Do it now. I don't care about the risks, I don't care if it's reversible, basically I don't care. Just do it."

EJ grinned. "You got it. How about the rest of you? I'm afraid it's a one-time offer—the capsule can only run the weaponisation process once. So, either you're in now, or you're out forever."

Without hesitation, Cora stepped forward. "I'm in."

Cam gave Mel a nervous glance, before joining Max and Cora. "Me too."

Mel glared at them all. And then, stomped forward. "Fine, whatever. If we're going to kick some arse, then you'll need someone who's actually good at it. Besides, who else is going to keep you lot out of trouble?" She turned to EJ. "Let's get it over with, holo-boy."

Casting periodic, nervous glances at the ominously silent cube, EJ arranged the baristas into a loose circle, facing inwards. The capsule, which had been hovering a few metres away, drifted up over their heads and then down into the centre of the group.

Cora swallowed. "OK, so what happ—" A flash of violet light from the capsule cut her off mid-question, and when she tried to continue, she found that she couldn't—her mouth seemed to be frozen. Bewildered, she tried to turn towards the others, but found that her head wouldn't budge—she was paralysed, to the extent that she couldn't even turn her eyeballs in their direction. She could breathe, and her heart was definitely still working—she could feel its panicked pounding—but all voluntary movement was gone. As best she could tell from the limited field of view her current direction of gaze afforded, the others seemed to be in the same state.

"Now, I expect you're all feeling a little anxious," said EJ, soothingly. "No need—this is all part of the process. Certain, er...procedures are about to take place, and it's important that you stay perfectly still, hence the paralysis. Don't worry, it'll all be over in two oscillations of a baby sheep's mobile posterior appendage."

Four silvery, flexible cables slowly snaked their way out of the capsule, each moving towards a barista, and at the end of each a flickering light cycled through a rapid succession of colours. Slowly, hypnotically, the four lights gently bobbed and weaved before each of their faces.

And then, in a spurt of rapid motion, shot firmly up their left nostrils.

"Now, no need to panic, this is all still perfectly routine and there's absolutely nothing to worry about. The probe that just entered your nose is totally safe and the tingling you may be feeling is just your brain being penetrated. Try to relax."

The red in Max's vision was replaced with dazzling showers of light and colour, as the tingling intensified and he felt the probe working its way deeper into his head. There was an intense flash of white and then both the tingling and the light show faded away.

"Excellent, excellent," enthused EJ. "Way to not explode guys, keep it up." He glanced back at the cube, just in time to see an opening appear in its side. "Okey-dokey, we might need to hurry things along, just a bit. The brain modifications are done, now we just need to access your circulatory systems."

Cam just had time to appreciate the relief of feeling the probe leave his brain, when there was a sudden, stabbing pain in the left side of his neck. Just as quickly, the pain faded, only to be replaced by a wave of sensation spreading out from its location, coursing like a billion tiny electric shocks through and over his whole body.

"OK, nano-modifiers deployed into your carotid arteries," said EJ, watching anxiously as two figures emerged from the tank. "Nearly done and no brains melted. At least not yet, anyway. Ha ha, just a little joke there, to lighten the mood."

Slowly, four probes retracted from four nostrils, their ends now dark and lifeless. The silvery cables waved gently back and forth for a few seconds before suddenly vaporising, instantly transforming into nothing more than puffs of smoke, which drifted away on the breeze. The four baristas remained utterly motionless.

"Er, guys," said EJ, as the two figures approached. "Guys? Um, now would probably be a good time to do the human weapon thing. Or sooner. Sooner would be good." He looked hopefully at the stationary four.

Who, for the next few seconds, continued to stand completely motionless. After which, they continued to stand completely motionless, for a few seconds more. Until, abruptly, they all fell down. And lay completely motionless instead.