With the area now clear, out strode a space marine, or at least a character of similar stature and bearing. He stood proudly, hands on hips, clearly waiting for the trio to exit their ship and thank him. They duly obliged.
“Think nothing of it ladies, gentlemen, aliens and slime, I am always here to protect the weak, stupid and incompetent!” he proclaimed.
“Really?” asked CD. “That seems unlikely as I’ve never seen you before.”
The marine – or whatever he was – gave CD a hearty slap on the back. Afterwards CD picked himself up and walked back the 20 yards he had travelled as a result.
“Who are you, stranger?” rasped Damaris. There was an odd timbre to her voice and the smell emanating from her turned to pickled cabbage. Captain Disaster found himself oddly envious of the stranger, presumably the result of some kind of weird alien pheromone.
“Well ma’am” said the stranger, “I go by many names. Some call me The Kentucky Kid. Others call me Chicken King. In the Gamma Quadrant they call me Poultry in Motion. But the name I go by most often is Colonel Sandon.”
They chatted for a while, with Damaris edging closer and closer to the Colonel, while the Colonel edged further and further away from her. It was a fascinating dance and seemed like it would have continued for some time, except Gerraldino reappeared and swallowed them both.
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