After a final, despondent glance at the peacefully recumbent forms of the baristas, EJ turned to face the approaching Rigellians, morphing as he did so into the form of a Narguwullian trooper.

"Hey there," he called, as they came within range. "How's it hanging?"

The two Rigellian soldiers came to a halt in front of him. They looked as though they'd be lucky to be five feet tall in their socks, but their elevated battle boots and crested war helmets boosted this up to over six feet. The soldier on the left raised his visor and glared at the hologram. "How is what hanging?"

EJ blinked. "Do you know what? That's a good question." A quick peruse of his downloaded copy of the internet provided the answer. "Your penises, of course."

Now the soldier blinked. "What is a penis?"

More perusing. "A human male sex organ."

The soldier turned to look at his companion, who now also lifted his visor. They shared a perplexed glance. The soldier on the right turned back to EJ. "But we don't have human male sex organs."

"And," contributed the soldier on the left, "if we did, then presumably they would hang down, as that is the nature of gravity."

"Unless perhaps gravity is anomalous on this world," speculated the soldier on the right. "Then perhaps our penises would hang up. If we had penises."

"Or possibly," pondered the soldier on the left, "human penises are anomalous in their interactions with gravity."

"Yes," said the soldier on the right. "Or maybe they're inflatable."

"Maybe," said the soldier on the left. "Both of which would presumably make human sex somewhat anomalous as well."

EJ reflected on his internet experiences. "Oh, it is."

They all paused to consider this. Then the soldier on the right shook his head, as if to clear it.

"Your behaviour is very strange for a Narguwullian trooper."

"Yes," said the soldier on the left. "And why are you wearing that hard and very short yellow hat?"

EJ groaned internally. "Uh, it's to protect me from, um—rocks. Yeah that's it, rocks. With all these gravitational anomalies around there's rocks and penises and stuff flying around all over the place. You can't be too careful."

The two Rigellians looked around and took in the complete absence of flying rocks and penises. They looked back at EJ. "I suspect you are a faulty unit," said the soldier on the left. "You will be scheduled for recycling when you return to the battle-station. No doubt your faulty status is the reason why you activated your distress beacon."

"Yeah, yeah—that's right. I was faulty for a bit, but I got better. Now I'm fit as a violin and ready to crumble. Um, rumble. Yeah, that's it. Um."

The soldier on the right gestured towards the four motionless, prostrate baristas. "What is the status of these humans?"

"What humans?"

"The humans lying on the ground behind you! What is their status?"

"Their status? Well, let's see—I'm pretty sure Max and Cora are dating and Cam's with Mel, although I've got to admit, sometimes I wonder what the attraction is. Apparently, from what I've read, some men—"

"Their military status, you imbecile! Are they combatants or non-combatants? Are they a threat? For that matter, are they even alive?"

"Alive? Actually, now that you mention it, no they're not. Dead as a box of hammers. Um, or a doorknob. I killed them, which of course demonstrates that I am a fully functional, non-faulty Narguwullian trooper. You guys can jump back in your battle-tank and head home, nothing to see here, have a good night, check you later."

"Why did you kill them? Our instructions were to spare non-combatants, and those humans appear to be dressed as civilians. Admiral Splurmfeen will not be pleased at the wastage of potential slave labour."

"Non-combatants—those guys? No way. They're actually undercover special forces, stationed here to guard this high-security...er, paddock. Highly trained, lethal warriors. But no match for me. It was a mighty fight but I killed 'em all. Yep, they're dead, deceased, departed. Couldn't be deader."

Behind him, Mel twitched and let out a groan.

"That one is not dead," said the soldier on the right, drawing his gun.

"Yes she is, that was just the wind. Or maybe a gravitational anomaly."

Mel groaned again and sat up. She rubbed her eyes. "I need a coffee."

"Wow," stammered EJ. "Must be a big anomaly. It'll be raining penises soon."

"Narguwullian!" barked the soldier on the left. "You will stop talking. You will return to your craft and you will await the order to return for recycling. We will take these humans back to the battle-station for questioning. As there are male specimens, they will also be examined to determine the nature of their penises' interaction with gravity."

Mel blinked slowly at the Rigellians. "Excuse me," she said, groggily. "Did you just say that you were going to examine my boyfriend's penis?"

"That is correct. How else we will we determine how it hangs?"

Mel considered this for a few seconds. "Well, you could ask him." She shook her head and blinked a few more times. A hint of a glimmer of fire flared in her eyes. "But he'd probably tell you to mind your own business and go to hell." She climbed unsteadily back to her feet. "Just like I'm telling you to go to hell, you short-arsed little bum-wipe."

The soldier on the left drew his gun and pointed it at Mel. "You are our prisoner," he growled, through gritted teeth, "so I will not accept your challenge. But if you insult me again I will be forced to disable you."

Mel took a few unsteady steps towards the Rigellians. She squinted uncertainly at them. "Who are you tossers, anyway?" She turned to look at EJ. "Oh, that's just great. Another Nargoowillyface. Hey, why are you wearing EJ's hat?" She swayed slightly. "I feel weird."

Now the soldier on the right pointed his gun at Mel as well. "Silence, human! Stop right there."

Mel frowned at him. She looked over at the parked battle-tank. She shook her head again. "Oh, right. So you guys are from the box." She looked them up and down. "Wow, EJ was right, you seriously are short-arses. Nice heels, though."

EJ was anxiously following the conversation from the sidelines. "Er, Mel...I mean, human. It's not really a very good idea to insult a Rigellian. They take that as a challenge to fight."

"Hey, you sound like EJ as well..." The scrambled synapses of Mel's brain slowly and tortuously processed this little tidbit and came to an eventual conclusion. She grinned and gave EJ an enormous wink. "Oh, I see. Thanks for the advice mister space-trooper dude, who I've totally never met before and don't recognise at all, even in that stupid hat. Important safety tip. Don't insult the bum-wipes, even if they look like some of the stupidest, ugliest, stinkiest, stupidest and short-arsiest bum-wipes that ever wiped a bum. And are stupid."

The soldier on the left glared stonily at her. "You were warned, human." He raised his gun. "Yo momma is so ugly," he snarled, "that when she tried to enter an ugly contest, she was disqualified for being a professional." He fired.

A sizzling beam of energy arced from the gun and blasted into Mel. Who watched this with interest, swayed slightly, but was otherwise completely unaffected. She yawned. "That's one lame-arse gun you've got there, shorty."

Both soldiers gaped at her. The one on the right snapped, "Switch your weapon from stun to kill. Fire!"

Now two white-hot beams of plasma lanced into Mel, who apart from starting to smoke slightly, still appeared completely unharmed. Looking thoughtful, she turned to EJ and raised her voice to be heard over the sizzling of the energy beams. "So I guess the weaponisation thing musta worked, huh?"

EJ nodded dumbly.

"Cool. Hey, I have a question. How come these runts can speak English? Shouldn't they be speaking alienese?"

"Um," said EJ, watching with appalled fascination the enormous amounts of raw energy now pouring into Mel. He was forced to raise his voice as well. "They're not speaking English. The capsule implanted a translation device in your brain, so you can now understand and speak all the major galactic languages. Also, you're on fire."

Mel looked down. "Hey, this is one of my favourite T-shirts!" She attempted to pat out the flames, but the energy beams kept re-igniting them. "Right, that's it." She stomped up to the soldiers, snatched the still firing guns out of their hands and threw them into the river. Dropping into fighting stances, the Rigellians began to circle warily around their unexpectedly challenging opponent.

In order to keep an eye on both soldiers, Mel was forced to turn slowly and before long she started to feel a little unsteady. "Can you guys please stop doing that? You're making me dizzy."

Sensing weakness, one of the soldiers lunged, fists swinging, only to find himself blocked by Mel's hand to his face, and unable to get close enough for any of his increasingly wild punches to connect. "Platforms and big hats might make you taller"—the other soldier charged in and she blocked him the same way—"but they do bugger-all for your reach." Despite this self-evident truth the soldiers continued to flail away. "You know, you guys can give up any time now."

"Never!" cried one soldier. "A Rigellian never quits!" yelled the other.

Mel shook her head. "You know what, short-arses? I don't know which is lower, your height or your IQ." Carefully, and with some difficulty, she repositioned her hands until she had her fingers firmly under the upper rim of both soldiers' helmets. And then, she began to rotate, dragging the soldiers around by their heads.

Gradually increasing her speed, she forced the soldiers to change their pace from a walk to a trot and then to an awkward run. Faster, until their legs could no longer keep up and were dragged behind them as they spun around her. Faster still, until their whole bodies were horizontal as they whipped around and around Mel in a dizzying blur of motion. And then, she let go.

The soldiers streaked through the air, sailing away in opposite directions. One disappeared off into the darkness on the other side of the river, while the other crashed into a large tree, leaving a distinctly Rigellian-shaped impression in the trunk, before crashing to the ground. Somewhat astonishingly, after a few seconds the soldier sat up. But then, even more astonishingly—at least to the soldier—a car fell on his head.

"Huh," said a voice from behind Mel. She turned around to find three groggy but conscious baristas sitting up and blinking slowly. Cam gave her a sleepy grin. "So that's where our car got to."