A Rebellion Built On Cake…
“The Son Of Fartlighter Must Not Become A Glutton…” – Emperor Zan Doka.
Zamora – one of the last Federated Planets to hold out against the Zandokan Imperial Onslaught – has incurred the wrath of Zegreatme, Dark Lord of Zan Doka.
He has set the brand new flagship: the Imperial Stodgestonker, armed with the Stellar Converter, a superweapon capable of destroying an entire planet, on a course towards Zamora…
Pledged to defend the planet at any cost is cake-scoffing
bum hero: Brad Fartlighter. Him and ‘is indomitable band of outlaws: Brad Company are already back on Zamora after another daring raid across one of the Imperial provinces, but not all is well…
Poor little Carrie sat at the kitchen table of her mother’s home sobbing uncontrollably.
The Zandokans had just skedaddled, after wrecking the garden furniture, scaring off her friends and callously destroying her prezzies.
Uff, the scaly-skinned bounders had even confiscated her birthday cake…
“They completely RUINED her party!” wailed Tanya, her shocked mother, who sat in the kitchen watching Nacho and Harris try and clear the debris. Lexi sat beside her, trying to console her.
“Gottverdamnt…” muttered Brad Fartlighter. “If only the Calista had come outta hyperspace a tad sooner… I coulda-“
“No, Brad, even you couldn’t ‘ave done anythin’. They would have captured you, and your cake would now be in the hands of the Empire… “
She was a longtime pal, but even those words cut him to the core stronger than steel.
“Yeah, but… As a Galactic Hero, I’m supposed ta be in the right place at the right time, an’ all… So sorry Carrie… “Me an’ the Co. are gonna do everythin’ we can to make yer birfday as snazzy as can be again…” Brad muttered, but the girl did not look up.
Tanya held her daughter ever so tightly: “Oh, those Imperial thugs! My kids…! How could they do such a- a-“ and with that, she broke down in Lexi’s arms…
“Don’t fret, lov,” Brad reassured. “Me an’ the Company are goin’ ta deal with ’em right away – an’ ya needn’t worry aboutcha bairns! Isn’t that right, fellas?”
Brad Company each offered their commiserations as they filed out. Except for Lexi; she paused at the door, looking solemn.
“You fellas run along; I’m gonna stay behind an’ look after these guys.”
“Good on yer, Lex!” Brad replied. “We’ll keep ya posted.”
“Fart! Mr. Fart! Hey, wait up!”
Carrie’s brother, Timmy, came running out to Brad.
“Are ya gonna get those Zandokans? Put one between the eyes for me, will ya?!”
“Whoa, Trooper! Strong words for such a pint-sized Rebel. You gotta-“
Only then did Brad notice the tears brimming in the boy’s eyes; he knelt and gave Timmy a big hug.
“…I can promise ya that Brad’s gonna get ’em… Wipe those tears away, kid. Ya gotta be strong fer yer Muvva an’ Carrie now, y’hear?”
Brad handed out one of his lollipops – wishing he could give so much more – and strode, heavy-hearted, back to the Calista.
“Is he housebroken, or is he going to leave batteries all over the floor?” – Miles Monroe.
The Calista Blockhead veered through the Hugivzatos System en route to intercept the Zandokan Imperial Fleet.
“Hey, ‘Arris, on our last raid, didn’tcha capture an Imperial Service Droid? And reprogram it?”
“Yes sir!” the Calista Engineer beamed with pride. “Got ‘im right ‘ere!”
A tall, powerful, yet long-suffering bipedal droid plodded forward.
“Ay em B2-BEN-D, Zerveez Droid, Zema Zeriez. Ya vont Zerveez – Ay giv you Zerveez-“
“Whoa, excellente, amigo!” Gaz gasped in amazement.
“Hey, BEN, ya ready ta work wonders fer us?”
The droid looked irritable. “…Not really, Urfmairn. Thet wuz zuch en eencunveenienz tekkin’ me away from my
“Well, you’re gonna-“
“Huh… mek me, Urfmairn…”
“Uff, hoighty toighty!” Gaz whispered.
The droid stepped menacingly closer: “En’ enuthair theenk: zeez eedeeot failed to give me an oil barf…”
“Did ‘e now…? Well, Iron Nerk, we can’t afford such luxuries aboard the Calista, y’know-“
“Jeez, vot kinduva Meeky Mouze show air you lot runneenk heere?!”
“Look, I’m famished, BEN – go fry some chips-“
“Huh, go fry your head, Urfmairn…”
“Blimey, ‘Arris. “D’ya think ya reprog-job was extensive enough?”
Brad trudged onto the Bridge, bedecked in the biochemech armoured suit of a Zandokan Shokk Trooper.
“‘Ere’s yer ‘elmet, Commander,” Nacho chipped in. “Where ya wan’ it?”
“ON ME ‘EAD, SON! Where else, Nach?! Fer goodness sake! Flamin’ Nora…”
“I dunno… I gotta bad feelin’ about th-”
“Stow it, Nach. I got this plan, an’ it’s as hot as me pants!”
Harris took one butcher’s and wrinkled his nose: “Uff, too hunky for a Shokk Trooper?”
“Aww, leave it out, ‘Arris! I’m takin’ an awful risk, amigo. This ‘ad bet’er work…”
Luke Skywalker: “Why didn’t you say so before?”
Han Solo: “I did say so before!”
Meanwhile, aboard the Stodgestonker: “Zir!” piped one of the console operators on tne Bridge.
“Yez? Vot now?!” yelled Zegreatme.
“Ay hef detected a deezturbenz urn Level 1138.”
“Level 1138? Zat eez ze control Centair fer ze ztellar Convertair! Put ze ZZTV urn ze main zcreen, eemmeediatly!”
“Eet eez Troopair FU421, Yer Exzellenzy.”
The shot of a blatant act of sabotage relayed on the main screen.
“Votzevukk eez he doeenk?!”
Zegreatme bolted outta his seat as if an electric charge had shot up ‘is high-an’-mighty arse.
“BLAZEZ! Zat eez ze tallest Troopair Ay evair did zee! Ehr… FU421, vhy airen’t you at yer purzt?”
FU421 turned round to face the camera.
“Who, me? Oh, er… vitel repairz-“
“Troopair… vot eez your urpairateenk numbair…?”
“Numbair 2-5… zeex… wurn, wurn-“
“HA! GOTCHAIR, ya zaboteur-zwine, you! Zat eez NUR urpairateenk numbair!
“Oh, Blimey Charley, zat’z-!”
“WETT…!” Zegreatme’s bionic fist shot into the air. “Wett a meenit… NURBUDDY elze een ze galaxy toks laik ZAT. GUARDZ! Remurv zat troopair ent breeng heem to ME!”
“We’re gonna do this!” – Poe Dameron.
FU421 was led by heavily armed escort onto the Bridge; Zegreatme strode forth to confront him:
“Troopair: you vill remurv yer helmet and tell me yer nam…”
FU421 did as he was told, and all the Zandokans on the Bridge gasped as the galactic hero revealed himself.
“Me name is ‘Arrison Ford, Battleforce Commander of the Galactic Defence Militia, Sworn Defender of the Federated Planet of Zamora. Owner of a dodgy bike an’ some mouldy pretzels. An’ I WILL HAVE MY CAKE! In this Prison Barge. Or the next.”
“Whoa, heh heh! Zwivel me zidewez! Vot a zpeech! …But pointlezz. Prepair to meet thy durm, Fertlittair… but, er, really – too hurnky fer a Shokk Troopair?”
“Aow, bloomin’ ‘eck, Zeg, don’t you start!”
“Gentlemen, Ay tell you, zeez Urfdawg hez bin a cunztent pen – laike a boil urn ze burm fer too lonk! Zo… Bred, what breengz you crawleenk out frum undair your wretched ztern zeez taim, eh?”
“Ah, put a cork in it, Zeg! Do wit’ me whatever yer foul bonce can muster, but let Zamora go! I won’t stand aroun’ an’ watch while ya-”
“HA! Do may lugholez hear raight?! Ze gret hero eez lewzeenk ee’z tempair weev Zegreatme!”
Brad lunged forward and started knocking all over the Dark Lord’s armour. A shrill clanging sound reverberated all around the Bridge; the officers present gasped even louder.
“‘Ere, ‘ow come yer suit’s thicker than mine-?”
“GERROFF, ya crazy Urfdawg-!”
“Any’ow, jus’ thought I’d let ya know that I’ve already swiped back all the supplies – an’ the cake, of course! – that you lot swiped from Zamora…”
One of the operators glared closer in disbelief at his console.
“Eet’z true! Containment Vezzel No. 237 eez know compleetly empty! All 403 conzignmentz urv kek are gone as well!”
“Er, 405 actually – I swiped a couple a’ beauties from anuvva-“
“Nur! Zat eez two kekz too many, end- ENNUV! Eet eez urv leetle conzequenz,” Zegreatme remained unmoved.
“Shurtly, ve VEELL enairgize ze Ztellar Convertair end you ken watch your patheteec paltry planet blurn eento urbleeveeurn, heh heh heh! “You hef LOZT, Fertlittair! Urn yer dodgy baike, Urfmairn! GUARDZ! Eef you pleaze…”
“‘Old yer ‘orses, Zeg,” Brad exclaimed nonchalantly, licking some renegade cream off his upper lip. The hero brandished a a small device from his jacket’s inside pocket. The Zandokan guards’ trigger fingers twitched.
“Vot air you feedleenk wiv now, Urfmairn?”
“Ya know what this is?”
“No, Who’s Who, but ya were close. In ‘ere is a record of people who ‘ave been left dischuffed an’ downtrodden by you Zandokan nerks fer too long.
But there’s one name in particular I wanna draw your attention to, an’ – if I scroll down… dum-ti-dum-ti-d-AHA! ‘Ere she is! A little girl – she means nothin’ ta you Imperial nitwits, but your Zkorpion Troopers, Zeg, still ‘ad ta go an’ ruin her big day, anyway! I wan’ ya ta know…”
Brad seethed, fidgeving furiously with his device.
“This… is for Carrie…”
And with that, he flicked a switch, and sparks leapt out of the main console; in the confusion, he darted one hand up to a hidden earpiece:
“Okey dokey, ‘Arris, get me outta ‘ere, NOW!”
Brad Company teleported their Commander off the Stodgestonker.
The Dark Lord waved his arms in the air. “VOT?! Ecteevate ze Tractair Bimm! Ay vont Bred back!”
“Bimm… May Lord?”
“Yayyez, BIMM! BIMM HEEM BECK KNOW!!”
“…But ve ken’t, Yer Ekzellenzy! Ze Urfmairn hez deacteevated ze Tractair Beem!”
“Aah, fer ze lurve urv… KURZEZ!”
Brad exhaled a huge sigh of relief as he reappeared back aboard the Calista.
“No time to ‘ang aroun’, lads – we gotta get back ta Tan’s gaffe, pronto! PUNCH IT, GAZ!”
“As you get older, the pickings get slimmer, but the people don’t” – Carrie Fisher.
The doorbell rang.
Tanya came to answer it – she couldn’t believe her eyes! There stood Brad Company, holding prezzies – Gaz and Nacho carried huge cakes. And all Carrie’s birthday guests came running back in!
“An’ anuva thing…” Brad brandished a small gold-foil-wrapped prezzy. All the kids gawped; Carrie took it and shook it curiously.
“I swiped somethin’ else from Zeg…” Brad whispered to Harris.
The Engineer’s eyes lit up: “Me beauty! Ya crafty beggar, ‘Ligh’er…”
Eagerly, Birthday Girl tore it open…
She opened her mouth in a silent scream, and then let out:
“COOL! A Samsung smartphone! Me very own Samsung smartphone!!”
She ran off to show it off to her friends.
“Don’t forget to say th-!” Tanya yelled, but her daughter had already disappeared into the next room. “She is very grateful…” the exasperated Mum exclaimed apologetically.
“No worries, lov! We can see that… Told ya I would make it up to ya- oh! Hey, Timmy, come here a sec, kid.”
Timmy, feelin’ kinda left out, slouched over very slowly.
“Hey, Nach, bring over that big package…”
In curiosity, the boy gradually unwrapped it – a humongous grin flashed across his grubby face as he brought out the second cake.
“Whoa, cheers, Mr. Fart! This is swell!”
“Oh Brad,” Tanya beamed. “Do ya ever get tired of bein’ such a groovy Galactic ‘Ero?”
“Is this a trick question…?”
Outside, B2-BEN-D complained endlessly as he was ordered to tidy up the wreckage in the garden…
“Nur rewad eez worth THEEZ…”
Back indoors, a rare moment of jubilation erupted in this otherwise deprived sector of the Empire as the party went into full swing. The kids revelled in playing games: Pin The Tail On The Zandokan Ass; 1-Potato 2-Potato and – oh yes! – Shove Piggy Shove.
Tanya wiped away more tears, this time, of joy: “Bless you, Brad!” she whimpered gratefully.