Warning: This story contains coarse language and primitive second
millennium-type sex between women.

Disclaimer: No profit is intended in the writing of this story. Star Trek:
Voyager and Barbarella are both the property of Paramount, I believe.

Summary: Sensual astrometrix Anna Seven, aided by the savage and passionate
B'Elannarella, must save the universe from the evil Doctor's Photonic Cannon.
Any resemblance to the 1968 film "Barbarella" staring Jane Fonda is purely

Feedback should be sent to [email protected] Archiving and downloading is
welcome as long as you credit the author.

Star Trek - Voyager: B'Elannarella (F/F)
by Odon

Anna Seven, Astrometrix First Class, always believed that undressing was as
much a work of artistry as a necessary part of her daily routine. Why go to
the Hallucinogenic Experience Theatre in order to witness radiant displays of
body and motion, she'd always argued to her friends, when you could achieve
such visual perfection in your everyday life?

It was, therefore, to the stirring chords of La Passion d'une Langue
Etrangre by Testamano Three that the beautiful astronaut took off her
spacesuit. Floating in zero gravity above the floor of her cabin she first
removed her gloves, freeing long, slim fingers that danced across the seals
of her magnetic boots. With slow, languid movements she kicked them off her
feet, calculating their trajectory with precision so they would arc towards
her footlocker. A robot arm neatly snatched the boots out of the air.

"Thank you Harry," Anna said huskily to the servant drone. The robot beeped
in happiness, a shiver of ecstasy running through its mechanical components.

Anna's spacesuit pants were next. Rolling onto her back, she slid out one
smooth, sensual leg, then the other, extending each in urbane stretches as
if to celebrate their liberty from confinement. Next she removed her helmet,
shaking loose her hair from its tight French pleat. The blonde locks drifted
across her face, framing blue-grey eyes and silvery facial implants.
Unzipping the front of her bodysuit, Anna let her large breasts burst from
their constraints to bob effortlessly in the zero-G. As the music built to a
crescendo the beautiful astrometrix peeled off her underclothes, exposing her
svelte naked form to the cabin's atmosphere. Anna shivered in pleasure as the
ultrasonics created sympathetic vibrations throughout her body in exquisite
harmony with the music.

It was unfortunate therefore that a piercing tone interrupted her display.
Disappointed, Harry activated the artificial gravity field and dropped her
gently to the floor.

"What is it, Tom?" she asked her ship.

"The President of Earth, Rotating Leader of the Solar System, Doctor of
Artificial Intelligence, Renowned Author of Best-Selling Holographic Novels,
and General All-Round Genius wishes to speak with you."

"Put him on the visualiser immediately!"

A blare of ostentatious music heralded the appearance of the noble
bald-headed features of the 50,678th President of Earth, Emh One. He smiled
fondly at the naked astrometrix, giving the hail that dated all the way back
to the days of the First Copulation. "Long Love."

"And Perfection," Anna finished. "I apologise for my appearance, Mr.
President. I'll just spray on some clothes."

The President raised an imperious hand. "There is no need, Anna. This is an
urgent matter of state." He knew that for some unaccountable reason his young
protg had always been embarrassed over her body. It was true that her
voluptuous form was a genetic throwback to the time of the second millennium,
but she of all people should know that it was the soul, not the body, that
was important. "I have a mission for you that is essential for the ongoing
harmony of the universe. A General All-Round Genius has disappeared into the
Galactic Centre and we want you find him."

"State the name and description of this individual."

An image of the President of Earth appeared on the visualiser, his jaw
clenched, brow furrowed into an evil scowl. "But that's you!"

"No, Anna, that's my hologram. Naturally a person of my enormous brilliance
and charisma is in great demand throughout the galaxy. I hardly have any time
of my own. So several years ago I used my brainwave patterns to create a
holographic copy of myself to take on the public relations workload. We
nicknamed it `The Doctor', as in `spin doctor'. It doesn't have a name of its
own, of course, because it wasn't supposed to be a separate individual, but
me, you see?"

"I see," replied Anna, though she didn't.

"Unfortunately, over the past few months this hologram exhibited signs of
evolving its own divergent personality. It was harmless at first, just some
hobbies I wouldn't normally be interested in - opera, holophotography,
medicine, that sort of thing. But then during a routine check of its
electrofantasies we discovered that The Doctor had been working on the
development of a weapon. Something called `The Photonic Cannon'."

"A weapon?" If Anna's species hadn't evolved beyond their previous state
of neurotic imperfection she would have gasped in shock. As it was, her
implant-framed left eyebrow shot up in extreme emotional discomposure. "But
weapons are irrelevant. The galaxy has been in a state of Collective Harmony
for the past ten thousand years. Surely no-one would want such a device."

"Unfortunately we cannot take the risk. We know very little of the beings
who live in the Galactic Centre. They may well be in a primitive state of
neuro-cortical evolution. If they should get their hands on this weapon, it
could mean war!"

"War?" Anna frowned, her mind struggling to grasp the unfamiliar concept.
"You mean, a lapse into archaic inefficiency? An increase in selfish
inter-species competition?"

"I mean war - bloody intergalactic conflict between sentient beings!"

It was then that the young astrometrix did gasp in horror. Anna knew that
in the third millennium her ancestors had routinely engaged in such archaic
irresponsibility. The United Federation of Planets, which was based on
Universal Love, and the Borg Collective, which sought Perfection, had clashed
in endless centuries of conflict. Only when the two sides realised that by
coming together in the First Copulation they could finally achieve their
joint goals was harmony created throughout the universe. "But why are you
sending me?"

"Who else can I send?" asked the President. "We no longer have armies or
police or Intrepid-class starships - such things are no longer relevant in
our society. You on the other hand are an Astrometrix First Class and my
personal protg. If anyone can find The Doctor, it is you."

Anna's back straightened, her second millennium breasts swelling with what a
primitive neurotic of that era would have called arrogant pride. It was,
however, merely self-acknowledgement of her eminent suitability for the task
at hand. "I will comply, Mr. President."

"Excellent. I want you to set your atomic transporter to a setting of Zero
Three Five."

"Harry?" said Anna over her shoulder. The drone hastened to obey. Anna saw
Emh One placing several unusual devices under a transparent dome. He closed
the lid and in seconds they had materialised in her transporter. She picked
one up. It was a curved piece of equipment, with a nozzle at one end and
flat, square buttons on top. Buttons! How primitive!

"These devices were standard instruments of exploration in the days of the
old Federation. The one you're holding is a weapon called a `phaser'. I got
it from the Museum of Neurotic Irresponsibility on the Klingon HappyWorld.
You might need it in this place you're going to. I know I can count on you.
Long Love and Perfection, Anna."

"Long Love and Perfection," replied the beautiful astrometrix. The
President's image disappeared from the visualiser, to be replaced by a
diagram of the Omega Molecule, symbol of the Harmonious Collective.

"Tom, set a course for the Galactic Centre." Anna stepped into her dressing
chamber, coming out seconds later in her favourite plum-coloured bodysuit.
"How long will it take us to get there?"

"It will take 150 Standard Earth Hours," her ship replied. "Do you wish me
to play a movie to pass the time?"

Anna raised a cautious eyebrow. "Not more `Captain Proton', I hope?"

"Oh no!" said the computer cheerfully. "I was searching through some ancient
databases on Earth and I came across this television series called `Star
Trek'. Apparently there was an entire religious cult based around it, known
as `Trekkies'."

"Oh Tom," Anna sighed in exasperation. "What am I going to do with you?
You're so . . . second millennium!"

* * *

Anna Seven, Astrometrix First Class, was woken by the warbling sound of a
space alarm. The entire vessel was shuddering and strange multispectral
lights were swirling across the viewscreen.

"Warning, we have been caught by a magnetic hurricane and are in an
uncontrolled descent towards the nearest planetary body. Space-time compass
no longer functioning. Stablisers off line. Present possibility of
non-destruction is O point O-O-O-Oh bugger it, we're screwed."

It was for moments like this that Anna had spent endless minutes strapped
into Brain chairs at the Space Academy. She leapt to her feet. "Adjust
the interspacial temporal effectance frequency to a non-covariant ratio
immediately! Set the port parallel thrusters to interlinked harmonistic
bursts! Broadcast our space/time index on a rotating subspace
transmodulation! Dump the linear convection fluid from the hyper-xoduliser's
primary core! Bring the secondary astrogation sensors out of their cryogenic
storage tubes and deploy them to a quasametric spread! Raise the gravity
repellence shields to a nonuple setting of 9.7835 megacomputations!"

Tom was still trying to decypher all this garbage when they slammed into the
planet's surface.

* * *

Anna Seven dressed for her mission as if she was going to engage in a War
of Neurotic Irresponsibility. Pushing her way through the soft bubbles of
shock-absorbing foam that had cushioned their landing, she entered the
dressing chamber, coming out in pair of knee-high boots, tight silver space
pants, and a transparent bodyvest of light plasti-armour. Anna would normally
be extremely reluctant to wear an outfit that revealed her overly large
second millennium-type breasts, but she had read in the database that species
in a state of neuro-cortical immaturity were very impressed by such things.
In case they weren't, she attached the ancient phaser to her belt as well.

"Watch your dix, Caboose," said Tom in concern. "It'll be a while before
Harry and I can repair all this damage. Fortunately while I was on Earth
I discovered an antique copy of B'Elanna Torres' Guide to Shuttlecraft
Regeneration, so that should speed things up a bit."

Stepping into the ship's excretory orifice, Anna was spewed out onto the
planet's surface, a cold frozen lake of purple water surrounded by tall
pillars of ice hundreds of metres high. Meteorites arced their fire trails
across the dark-red sky; twin full moons reflected so much light that one
could see for miles around. It was therefore not surprising that the young
astrometrix could clearly make out every hideous detail of the creature
slithering towards her, from its multiple slimy tentacles to its twenty-three
eyes and armour-shelled back covered in numerous poison-tipped dorsal spines.

"Long Love and Perfection," Anna said, raising her middle finger in the
Old Earth greeting. Just because an alien looked different from oneself
didn't mean it was hostile. Only species in a state of neuro-cortical
immaturity believed such things. Of course, there was nothing to say that
this particular alien wasn't itself in such a primitive state of emotional
development, which was probably why it was opening its mouth, revealing
fifteen-inch razor-sharp fangs ready to devour her crotch creating an
irresistible urge in the astrometrix to lapse into second millennium
behaviour and scream her bloody head off.

A jagged beam of electricity lanced across Anna's field of vision and
enveloped the creature, making it howl in pain. It turned and scuttled
frantically in the opposite direction, only to be hit by a second jolt fired
right up the centre of its three rectal orifices. Its tentacles flailed one
last time as if in impotent fury, then the creature slumped unconscious onto
the ice.

Anna turned to see a burly man running towards her, shouting in an
incomprehensible language. He looked rather first millennium, she thought,
dressed as he was in heavy furs with a strange tattoo marking his forehead,
but with an intriguing facial structure. A wicked-looking electrocannon
was cradled in his hands, belying the concerned expression on his face.
"Molecular variance residuals, temporal gamma flux neutronium particle
increase?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?" said Anna. "Do you speak the Universal Harmonious Language? Tom,
what's this man saying?"

"Dilithium matrix? Warp coil isolation reflux chamber?"

"It's an obscure language from the Old Federation known as technobabble,"
Tom replied over the star-shaped comm unit beneath her right ear. "Use your
tongue box - I'm downloading the translation now."

Anna fiddled with her box as the man said, "Chakarma Sutray."

"Oh Imperfection," she cursed. "It's not working."

"What are you talking about?" said her handsome rescuer. "That is my name -
Chakarma Sutray, Appointed Catchman of the Great Tyrant. But who are you?"

"Anna Seven, Astrometrix First Class, Citizen of Earth, member of the
Universal Collective Harmony, Genetic Birth Batch 709-3A-U01. What was that

"A Horrible Slibberdorph - extremely deadly. It is my job to capture such
creatures for the Royal Menagerie." Chakarma pointed to where two men wearing
red shirts and armoured gauntlets were carefully wrapping the slibberdorph's
poisoned spines in thick cloth and binding its tentacles. A robot drone slid
up on skis and began to attach a towing rope to the alien's horny carapace.
"But what purpose brings you to the Ice Forest of Wier?" he asked, his
appealing brown eyes dropping to study her transparent bodyvest in

"Well nothing, actually. My ship crash-landed on this planet. I'm actually
seeking a holographic artificial intelligence known as `The Doctor'. Have you
heard of anyone like that?"

"I know nothing of such things," Chakarma said to her cleavage - perhaps he
thought her vocal interface was located there. "But if you are looking for
someone, the best place to start is the city of Sogo. I would be happy to
take you across the ice lake in my craft."

Chakarma's icecraft was a large wooden vehicle, twenty-foot in length and
mounted on skis. An enormous rotating fan created thrust, while large sails
of gauzy material captured the wind when fuel was low. Anna was surprised to
find that its cabin was quite warm. Her plasti-armour fogged up immediately,
much to her rescuer's disappointment. In order to satisfy him Anna turned
down the thermal setting on her bodyvest. Chakarma opened up his furs to
reveal broad hairy pectorals. Taking her cue from the Catchman's behaviour,
Anna stared politely at his chest.

"I really am most grateful," said Anna to Chakarma's nipples. "I'm positive
I can get you some kind of financial recompense from my government. In fact,
if there's anything I can do for you, anything at all, I'd be more than
willing to do it."

Chakarma raised his forehead tattoo at this statement. "Well in that case,
you could . . . let me make love to you."

Anna's blue-grey eyes widened in surprise. "But . . . you're an alien! How do
we know if our psycho-cardiograms are in confluence?"

"Psycho . . . what?" said the Catchman, frowning at his latest catch. "I know
nothing of such things."

"On Earth people don't make love unless their psycho-cardiograms are in
perfect harmony. It avoids all the interpersonal and physical compatibility
problems suffered by mating couples throughout the early millenniums."

"But my dear, it would be a great error, a terrible, tragic, all-too-human
error, if I let such an incredible beauty pass through my hands without
making love to her!"

"Well, OK then," said Anna reluctantly. "But I don't see what good it will

The stunning Earthwoman closed her eyes and stretched out her left hand
towards Chakarma. It was interlaced by strips of thin metal, he noticed,
melded into the flesh. "What are you doing?"

"On Earth we `make love' as you call it, by touching our cybernetic implants
creating an Exaltation Transference Link between the pleasure centres of our
minds. You hold for one minute or until full rapture is achieved."

"Only one minute!" Chakarma exclaimed. "But when I made love to the beautiful
Siamese Delaney Twins of Stella Five, the foreplay alone lasted for three
days! Why don't you just take off your clothes and lie down on that bed?"

Anna's eyes shot open to the size of Mutara-class nebulas. "But . . .
no-one's done it that way in centuries!"

"Why ever not?!"

"Because it was proven to be distracting!" she cried. "And a danger to
maximum efficiency, and because it was pointless to continue when other
substitutes for ego-support and self-esteem were available!"

But her hairy rescuer was not to be denied, so the young astrometrix
reluctantly exposed her imperfectly voluptuous second millennium-type body.
She could really do with a zero-gravity field about now, Anna thought. There
was simply no artistry in the way her large breasts jiggled as she pulled
down her skintight spacepants, or her hair tumbled in heavy golden locks
around her shoulders. "It's not much to look at, I'm afraid," said Anna as
she spread her infinitely long legs on the fur-covered mattress. "Are you
sure you don't want financial recompense instead?"

"But you are the most beautiful, the most sexy alien I have ever seen,"
gasped Chakarma, trying in vain to work his trousers down past an enormous
erection. Temporarily abandoning his efforts, he picked up a shiny metal
tray and held it in front of Anna's face. The young astrometrix stared at
her reflection. "Look at yourself. Those full sensuous lips, created by the
Gods of the Universe for embracing the firm flesh of a man's Tower of Love.
Your legs, long and smooth like ice trees in the Forest of Wier. Those firm,
tight buttocks, like the luscious tasting double-fruits of Reharni Prime.
And most of all, your magnificent breasts." He reached out and seized them
in his eager hands. "Like the__"

With a deafening crash, Anna brought the tray down on Chakarma's head.

* * *

Chakarma Sutray, Appointed Catchman of the Great Tyrant, woke up with his
head aching as if the Great Rhyder Birds of Yini II were trying to peck
their way through his skull. Groaning in pain, he rolled over onto his side
and clutched at the nearest dispenser for a revitalisation pill. The lack
of motion of his ice-craft and the frozen pillars he could see through the
portal told him that he was parked on the shores of the ice lake. There was
no sign of the exquisite Earthwoman he had picked up.

A small white cube had been left on the fur-covered bed. Chakarma picked it
up, jumping in surprise when a hologram of the beautiful Anna Seven leaped
into existence in front of him.

"I'm so very sorry, I should have warned you. The region of my body on which
you placed your hands is extremely sensitive. If it gets touched for any
length of time I start acting in a highly inefficient manner. My body fluids
are redirected to my extremities, my heart rate increases dramatically and I
have these overpowering urges to lapse into primitive second millennium
behaviour. Thank you so much for saving my life. As I stated earlier, I'd be
happy to arrange financial recompense from my government."

"Mad alien chicks," moaned Chakarma, clutching his head. He groped his way
across the cabin to the visualiser, punching at a series of brightly coloured
buttons. The screen hissed with static, then resolved into the image of a
short, auburn-haired female, dressed in a militaristic red-shouldered
uniform. She reclined on a mighty ornate throne that would have further
reduced her apparent stature were it not for a steely gaze that sliced into
the Catchman.

"What is it, Sutray?" she said in a tone colder than the Ice Forests of Wier.
"Have you captured the insolent B'Elannarella yet?"

"Oh Great Tyrant!" groveled Chakarma. "I have discovered a far greater prize.
A beautiful virgin female from the planet Earth!" He knew his queen had a
preference for females, or at least he believed she did. Certainly in the
seven years in which Chakarma had been her bodyservant she had never made
love to him.

The queen sat bolt upright in her throne. "A virgin? Such creatures still

"Her Lips of Heaven have not felt the exquisite penetration of Mankind's
Probe of Pleasure. Apparently on her world they do not make love as we do!"

"Yes," purred the Tyrant. "So The Doctor informs me. A virgin! A blank slate
on which I can write my most perverted desires. I shall mold her in my image,
teach her the true meaning of humanity." Suddenly she fixed her infamous
Death Glare upon Chakarma, making him shiver in fear. "And just how come this
woman is still in such a state of purity? Did you not try and force your own
carnal desires upon her?"

"I tried, but she resisted me most vigorously! She is now on her way to your
city, my Queen!"

"Excellent," said the queen, stretching languidly on her throne. "It shows
spirit. But I think she will find that in my case, resistance . . . is
futile." The Tyrant threw back her head and gave a great peal of evil

* * *

The city of Sogo had been carved from a mountain of pure black crystal, a
dark gleaming spire that thrust its way out of the folds and valleys of the
notorious Crimson Regions. Its slopes were marked by endless twisting lines,
as if someone had cut a great labyrinth into the ground.

Anna Seven, Astrometrix First Class, studied the distant city with a
determined gaze. There must be some way of approaching the city. Anyone
living in this region would know. She removed an antique Federation
tricorder from her belt and set it to scan for lifesigns.

Whether or not the primitive device worked she had no idea, but after fifteen
minutes of the device whirring, beeping and flashing incomprehensible lights
at her, someone turned up to see what all the noise was about. He was a
short, bearded alien with six toes on each foot, a great mane of hair and
numerous spots on his hands and face.

"Well hello, my young sweeting. My name is Knoluk - scavenger, trader, guide,
storyteller and chef extraordinaire. Could I possibly be of assistance?"

"Yes, I wish to know how to get to the city of Sogo."

Knoluk raised his big hairy eyebrows. "Are you . . . sure you want to go
there? It's not a very nice place you know. To be honest I tend to avoid it

"Yes, I'm looking for a sentient hologram known as `The Doctor', it's very
important that I find him. Would you guide me there? I'd be happy to arrange
financial recompense from my government."

"Certainly, guiding is one of the many tasks at which I am highly qualified.
Err . . . which government are you talking about, by the way?"

"I'm from the planet Earth. It's on the far edge of the Galaxy."

Knoluk rolled his eyes. "No offence, Miss Earth . . ."

"I was Miss Universe actually, three times running."

"Sorry, Miss Universe, but while one of my distant ancestors is rumored to
have traveled from one side of the galaxy to the other simply because a
short-arsed starship captain from Earth wanted a lousy cook and some comic
relief, there's no way I'm traveling all the way there just to get paid.
Haven't you got anything you can barter here and now?"

"Well there's this," Anna said, holding out her tricorder. "But it's obsolete
by about ten thousand years."

"Mmm," pondered the short alien. He pointed at Anna's chest. "What about

"You don't want to fondle my mammary glands too, do you?" Anna cried.

Knoluk laughed. "No offence Miss Universe, but I prefer my women shorter and
a lot younger, say about one or two years old, with cute pointed ears. No, I
was referring to your plasti-armour vest."

So Anna removed her transparent bodysuit, her nipples hardening instantly in
the cold, pointing the way like twin multispatial probes. She followed Knoluk
into the dark confines of the labyrinth, his constant chatter echoing and
reechoing until it sounded as if an army of jabbering pilgrims was guiding

"And THEN I said to that phage-ridden parasite, "Look you ugly bastard, I'll
hand over one of my lungs before I let you get your flaky hands on my prize
Ghafaji roast!" Well you know what they say, be careful what you wish for,
`cause it was then that he pointed this hand-held organ transporter at my
chest and__"

A knife whistled through the air, piercing Knoluk's hairdo and missing Anna's
neck by millimetres.

The two of them spun round, the momentum of Anna's freely-swinging breasts
almost pulling her off balance. Standing astride the rocks above like an
Amazonian colossus stood a dusky alien woman, her scowl emphasised by the
curving ridges of her forehead. She wore a tattered, skimpy toga that exposed
her taut, muscular body and firm round breasts, their nipples standing
proudly in the cold. A thick leather belt crossed between them, laced with
five throwing blades. A lethal-looking disrupter was cradled in her arms,
pointed in their direction.

"Who is this woman who dares to challenge me by exposing her breasts?" she
snarled, her dark eyes flashing in fury.

Knoluk stepped forward, farting loudly in the ancient greeting of his people.
"Good morning, B'Elannarella! You're looking especially lovely today, if I
may say so. I'm just taking my cousin here to visit a poor, ailing little
boy. He's the 500-kilo baby of a Ropondian mega-elephant, so as you can
imagine he requires an awful lot of breast-feeding__" B'Elannarella's hand
flashed and Knoluk ducked just in time to avoid being skewered. The knife
clattered off the rocks behind him.

"Don't bullshit me you polka-dotted lavatory brush! The days when the
culinary techniques of your species were feared throughout the quadrant are
long gone. Has this female come to battle me in bare-chested combat?"

"Your reasoning is flawed," said Anna. "I am merely attempting to gain entry
to the city of Sogo." She saw Knoluk wince as if in sudden pain.

"SOGO?" roared the savage female. "The City of Darkest Night? The Lair of
the Great Tyrant? The Dunghill of Humanity? The Black Force That Sucks The
Freedom From Our Land Like a Parasitic Leech? That Vomit Drenched Open
Cesspit of Evil?"

"Yes Sogo!" yelled Knoluk, holding Anna's plasti-armour in front of him to
stop from being impaled. "And if you'll stop chucking knives for one second,
you'll find I'm willing to exchange this exquisitely shaped piece of body
armour, that I had especially brought all the way from Earth, in exchange
for 600 dymets of leola root and safe passage through your realm!"

Without pause B'Elannarella aimed her disrupter at him and squeezed the
trigger. A blinding ray of incandescent light struck the plasti-armour,
making it glow white-hot. Knoluk gave an almighty howl and rolled backwards
along the ground, blowing on his scorched fingers.

"Seems to work well enough," said B'Elannarella in approval. "Make it 520
dymets and it's a deal." She clambered down off the rocks, striding up to
the tall alien female. "And just who are you?"

"Anna Seven, Astrometrix First Class, Citizen of Earth, member of the
Universal Collective Harmony, Genetic Birth Batch 709-3A-U01."

B'Elannarella snorted. "Is that a name or a telephone number? I'm
B'Elannarella the Torrid, leader of the Forces of Freedom." She leaned
forward to bite Anna's cheek in the traditional greeting of her people.

Anna quickly stepped backwards. "I'm here on a very important mission, a
matter which could affect the loving union of the universe, at the express
orders of the President of Earth, Rotating Leader of the Solar System, Doctor
of Artificial Intelligence, Renowned Author of Best-Selling Holographic
Novels, and General All-Round__"

"Yeah alright, he's important! Great Klueless of the Klingon HappyWorld, you
chatter more than Knoluk here." B'Elannarella picked up her thrown knives,
tucking them back in her belt. "What is it you want in Sogo? `Cause unless
it's a slow and extremely painful death, you might well be disappointed."

"I'm seeking a holographic artificial intelligence known as The Doctor."


"I'm sure he has his good points," Knoluk quipped, promptly jumping to one
side as another knife flew at his head.

Anna raised her hand, palm uppermost. On in rested a small white cube that
projected a solidogram of the holographic Doctor. A knife blade immediately
pierced his evil furrowed brow.

"Yes, that's him all right," grunted B'Elannarella. "I was Chief Engineer of
Sogo, Personal Bodyservant of the Great Tyrant, and Recipient of the Royal
Tongue before this know-it-all bastard came along. He usurped my position,
and I was cast out into the Labyrinth with all the other morons who decided
to take up the dangerous hobby of politics." She pointed with her chin past
Anna's shoulder. The astrometrix turned around, starting as she found herself
face to face with a scruffy band of men and women dressed in brightly
coloured pyjamas, the traditional uniform of freedom amongst the Old

"We have all suffered the injustices of the Great Tyrant," said an
ebony-skinned alien with ears that came up to sharp points. "I am
Toostuk-in-the-Mud. Once I was the Queen's closest advisor, but I criticised
the logic of her position too often. As punishment I was hung up by my ears
for three months before being expelled to the Labyrinth. You can see the

"I think they look wonderful," Knoluk sighed, gazing lovingly at the pointed

B'Elannarella gestured to a man with young Asian features and old eyes. "And
Havent Kum here was the Tyrant's foremost ensign in her Royal Redshirted
Guards. But when he had an unauthorised piece of tail__"

"Tal, her name was Tal!" snapped the former foremost ensign.

"Sorry. Well suffice to say the chick was so hot he was positively glowing
afterwards. But the Great Rant doesn't like anyone to have any fun, lest it's
with herself of course. So she got the Doctor to trap Havent in a permanent
state of temporal paralysis. Doesn't look any different, but his personality
has been immobilised for the rest of eternity. He can't change no matter what
happens to him, which is a major problem when you're as big a bumbler as he

"And let's not forget what she did to her chief pilot," chimed in Knoluk.
"The one whose DNA was mutated to turn him into a salamander, all `cause the
Tyrant wanted some perverted sex, or that First Officer she placed a curse
on so he can only say `yes, ma'am' all the time!"

"Yes ma'am," said a tattooed man with commander's insignia, nodding in

"She's gone completely nuts since the Doctor arrived. With his invention, the
terrible Photonic Cannon, the Tyrant considers her position unassailable,
thinks she can run the ship without our help. Well she's wrong there, isn't
she people?!" roared B'Elannarella to her men.

The Forces of Freedom gave a lukewarm murmur in response.

B'Elannarella's right hand wrapped around the handle of one of her knives.

"DEATH TO THE GREAT TYRANT!" they quickly shouted. She grunted in approval.

"Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other," said Anna Seven. "If you
help me infiltrate the city of Sogo, I can both remove the Doctor and destroy
his deadly device."

B'Elannarella snorted in contempt. "And what makes you think we haven't tried
that already? The Doctor is impervious to all blades and energy beams; they
just pass through him. What makes you think that you can succeed where so
many have failed?"

"Your previous attempts have clearly been inefficient," replied Anna
(B'Elannarella, primitive neurotic that she was, bristled at what she assumed
was arrogance rather than mere self-acknowledgement of Anna's eminent
suitability for the task at hand). "I am an Astrometrix First Class, Graduate
of the Space Academy, XXX-rated personal protg of the 50,678th President of
Earth and Rotating Leader of the Solar System, Emh One who, I should also
point out, is a Doctor of Artificial Intelligence, Renowned Author of
Best-Selling Holographic Novels, and General All-Round__"

"Bullshit artist!" roared B'Elannarella. "Well that might be an impressive
rsum back on Earth, but out here in the Galactic Centre we judge people
according to how they handle themselves in a scrap! Before we trust you,
you'll have to prove you've got what it takes. I challenge you to butt-naked
bed-wrestling according to the ancient tradition of my people!" B'Elannarella
grinned at the voluptuous astrometrix with what Anna, if she had been a
primitive neurotic, would have assumed was pure naked lust.

"Bed-wrestling?" said Knoluk, frowning in bewilderment. "But that's not an
ancient tradition of__" He quickly shut up as B'Elannarella's hand flashed to
her knife belt again.

* * *

"The rules are simple," said Toostuk-in-the-Mud. "No scratching, clawing,
hair-pulling or . . . " he gave B'Elannarella a significant look. "Biting.
The winner is the first one to immobilise their opponent and force her

Anna Seven and B'Elannarella the Torrid faced each other across the Bed of
Blood, an enormous four-poster waterbed covered in red satin sheets. They
balanced awkwardly on the undulating surface, their hands raised in attack
postures, bodies glistening with oil. The Forces of Freedom were clustered
around them, cheering and catcalling.

Knoluk was taking bets on the winner.

"I should warn you," said Anna. "I am a student of the ancient French martial
art of Sioxante Neuf."

"And I was holder of the Queen's Black Dildo for three years running,"
snarled B'Elannarella, throwing herself on top of the Earthwoman.

At first it appeared as if the two women were evenly matched. Desperately
they rolled around on the bed, clutching and groping at each other's
slippery, naked bodies. Unable to gain a hold on Anna's slim form,
B'Elannarella seized the biggest target she could get hold of, the
Earthwoman's formidable breasts, squeezing and kneading them with strong,
greedy hands. But Anna skillfully countered by shoving B'Elannarella's head
into her cleavage and holding it there until she started to pant urgently.
It was then that the young astrometrix made a mistake. Thinking that
B'Elannarella's heavy breathing was due to a desperate need for oxygen,
Anna released her too early and quickly found herself bent over forwards,
leaving her buttocks exposed to a vigorous spanking attack. She yelped and
squealed helplessly as the flat of a hand smacked down on her arse again
and again. But just when she thought she couldn't stand it any longer,
B'Elannarella ceased her savage assault. Puzzled, Anna tried to analyse
her adversary's moves. It was clear from the way in which B'Elannarella
had her bent over that she'd been trained in a Doggie Style of martial
arts, but it wasn't until the astrometrix felt gentle fingers probing
between her legs, stroking the delicate petals of her pussy, that she
realised the devious nature of her opponent. B'Elannarella was clearly
trying to divert blood from her heart and arteries to non-essential regions
of her body! Her analysis was confirmed when she felt warm lips sucking on
her clit, causing Anna to moan with pleasure. Her situation was desperate -
she had to act quickly before she became totally inefficient!

Flipping B'Elannarella with the assover-tit move taught by her instructors
at the Space Academy, Anna shoved her head between B'Elannarella legs and
thrust the full length of her tongue up her vagina. Without mercy she worked
it back and forth, licking and sucking on that steaming slit. In what was
obviously a desperate attempt to throw her off, B'Elannarella was bucking
and grinding her pelvis against her, but all in vain. She would not be

It was then however that Anna felt her buttocks parting under the relentless
insertion of a slick invader. `The Athenian Attack!' she thought in fear.
Yanking out her tongue Anna sprang backwards, trying to break her fall with
her hands. But her palms slipped on the smooth satin sheets and she landed
right on her arse, eyes shooting wide open as a five-inch anal screw rammed
itself up her rear end. B'Elannarella snarled in triumph, snatching up a
long, black vibrator and switching it on. The second the sex device detected
the heat emanating from a female vagina it immediately began squirting
aphrodisiacal lubricants over its smooth surface. Multiphasic laser scanners
measured the width and depth of Anna's pussy and shapeshifted its size
accordingly for ease of insertion and maximum pleasure. The balls on its
rotating sleeve head whirred into action. G-spot detectors and clitoral
probes readied themselves for deployment.

"I'm finished!" gasped Anna, staring in abject terror as B'Elannarella
prepared to thrust the dreaded Black Dildo into her virgin pussy.

Suddenly half the watching onlookers screamed in pain as they were enveloped
in a blinding flash of electricity. Caught with their pants down, in many
cases around their ankles, the Forces of Freedom milled about in disorganised
confusion as from out of the tunnels of the labyrinth charged a horde of
redshirted soldiers, led by an all-too-familiar man in furs, clutching his
mighty weapon.

"There they are!" the Catchman shouted, pointing at the two women on the bed.
"Remember, the Great Tyrant wants them alive!"

"Sutray, you tattooed petaQ!" roared B'Elannarella. She tossed her vibrator
to Anna. "Defend yourself!" B'Elannarella knew their situation was desperate.
The Tyrant's Redshirts were nameless, faceless men whose sole reason for
existence was to die at her command.

Wielding the sex toy like a rapier, Anna leapt off the waterbed and charged
at the nearest redshirt. Quickly the ensign raised a large calibre handcannon
and fired it at the astrometrix's chest. Anna was knocked flying backwards as
a thick rubber dildo smacked with bone-numbing force between her tits.
Snarling with rage, B'Elannarella hurled herself on top of the ensign and
tried to shove an enormous butt plug up his rear end, only to be enveloped by
a horde of redshirts throwing themselves on top of her in their eagerness to
gain the Tyrant's favour. By the time Chakarma had hauled them off, the
ensign had suffocated under the mass of bodies.

"He gave his life in the noble service of the Great Tyrant," pronounced the
Catchman, looking down with pride at the now blue-faced redshirt. "What was
his name?"

"Beats me," grunted another anonymous redshirt. "Didn't know he had one."

"You'll pay for this, Sutray!" growled B'Elannarella, as her hands and feet
were bound in black leather S&M gear. "The Forces of Freedom will never
submit to tyranny!"

"Take them to the Tyrant," ordered Chakarma. "They shall suffer the fate of
all traitors. Let them feel the sharp-edged fury of her Majesty's tongue!"

* * *

Throughout recorded history, humanity had suffered under the tyranny of short

Napoleon Bonaparte, who subjugated Europe and drastically reduced the stature
of his Grand Army in the ill-fated invasion of Russia. Benito Mussolini, the
fascist dictator who brought Italy to ruin and made his country a mere
stunted vassal of Hitler's Germany. But all of them paled in sheer wickedness
and depravity compared to the Great Tyrant.

"Well hello, my pretty pretty," she purred, as Anna Seven, Astrometrix First
Class, and B'Elannarella the Torrid were tossed to the ground before her.

"Uughk ou ou e-urghk!" grunted B'Elannarella. She'd been forced to wear a
bondage gag ball after repeatedly trying to bite one of the redshirts.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that," smirked the evil queen. She turned her cold
grey eyes on Chakarma. "What have you done with the others?"

"They have been thrown to the lesbians, your Majesty."

"Excellent." The Tyrant rose from her throne and stalked towards the young
astrometrix like a panther, her pupils dilated from the caffeine drugs she
had taken. "So my pretty pretty . . . you must be the beautiful Earth
virgin." She stroked her fingers along the edge of Anna's jawline.

"My designation is Anna Seven, Astrometrix First Class, Citizen of Earth,
member of the Universal Collective Harmony, Genetic Birth Batch 709-3A-U01,"
Anna replied coldly. "Do not engage us in superficial attempts at seduction."

"Oh yes, the great `Collective Harmony'," sneered the Tyrant. "A vast
consciousness, billions of minds living and working in a concord of love and
perfection. No indecisions, no doubts, no excitement, no . . . evil. The
security and strength of a unified dullness. How boring."

"You are small," Anna replied, looking down in contempt at the short queen.
"You are a primitive neurotic and think in small ways. You lack harmony,
order, greatness. You do not understand what it is to be Bored!"

"And do you understand what it is to be . . . excited?" asked the Tyrant,
caressing the small of Anna's back. The young astrometrix was unable to
suppress an involuntary shiver of arousal. "Activate the Doctor!" snapped
the queen in her command tone.

The Official Sentient Hologram of the President of Earth, Rotating Leader
of the Solar System, Doctor of Artificial Intelligence, Renowned Author
of Best-Selling Holographic Novels, and General All-Round Genius (that
lecherous, sadistic, bald-headed, egotistical, opera-singing, paparazzi
pervert) materialised in the middle of the throne room. "Please state the
nature of humanity."

"Evil!" answered the Great Tyrant. "Doctor, I have a subject for your unique
talents. Remember, her virginity must be kept intact. I want her for myself."

"Yes, my liege," said the Doctor, surveying Anna with a sinister expression.
"Ah, yes! The President's prize protg. I thought that ugly bag of mostly
water would send you. Computer! Beam myself and this female to the Excessor
Room immediately!"

B'Elannarella grunted and strained against her bonds as the beautiful
Earthwoman disappeared in a shimmer of blue light. Smirking, the Tyrant
prised the gag from her mouth.

"You seem quite taken with this Earth girl," she said as B'Elannarella gasped
for breath. "But she is mine now. You, however . . . " The Tyrant reached
down and caressed her raven black hair. "I can either have you covered in
honey and thrown to the tender mercies of my lesbians . . . or you can join
me once more at my side. Toostuck never told you the truth about what
happened to your mother."

"He told me enough," snarled B'Elannarella. "He told me that you killed her!"

"You obviously never saw `Barge of the Dead' then," said the Tyrant, the
cavernous throne room making her voice echo like Darth Vader. "B'Elannarella,
I am your mother!"


* * *

When Anna Seven, Astrometrix First Class, materialised in the Excessor Room,
she was shocked to find that she'd been beamed into a skintight silver

"What have you done to me?" she gasped in horror. The Exaltation Transference
implants in her left hand had been plugged via twin tubules into a sinister
black alcove that encased her in a cold metallic grip. From the top of the
alcove tall brass pipes extended towards a high-vaulted, acoustically perfect
ceiling. Its base merged into an enormous 1000-key multi-sonic keyboard.

"That biosuit is my own special invention," said the Doctor as he
materialised in front of her. "It consists of dermaplastic grafts that will
transfer and amplify nerve impulses from every neuron in your body. Every
sensation you experience will be multiplied tenfold, such as . . . pleasure!"
The hologram reached up and brushed a single finger along the surface of her
left breast.

Anna moaned in ecstasy.

"Or . . . pain!" He picked up a short leather whip and lashed furiously at
the astrometrix.

Anna moaned in ecstasy.

Doc blinked in surprise. It wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.

Still, never mind. The Doctor sat down at the keyboard, flexing his photonic
hands unnecessarily. "This is my organ," he said, lovingly stroking his
instrument. "It is the biggest, most powerful organ in the entire cosmos!"
His fingers danced across the keys, playing a quick sonata. Anna gasped in
shock as delightful quivers ran up her spine.

"Nice, isn't it?" Doc smirked as he continued to play. "Yes it is nice . . .
in the beginning. Wait `til the tune changes though. It may change your tune
as well!" He hammered out the opening bars of Testamano Three's La Passion
d'une Langue Etrangre.

"Oh-oh-oh-oh-mega molecule!" Anna cried out, her head tossing from side to

"With my Excessor Organ I can directly manipulate the erogenous zones of your
body," said the evil hologram with a leer. "When we reach the crescendo you
will die . . . of pleasure! The end will be swift, but sweet! Yes, very

"But . . . the Great . . . Tyrant . . . " gasped Anna Seven. "She wants me
alive . . . and . . . and breathing . . . heavily!"

Doc's fist slammed down on the keyboard, causing Anna to have an
instantaneous orgasm. "Don't mention that short-arsed java-junkie to me! All
she cares about is maintaining her power on this insignificant ball of dust.
I intend to dispose of her, seize control of this realm, and use its
resources to create an invincible army of holographic redshirts to conquer
the galaxy!" With a maniacal expression on his face the Doctor dived into a
stormy recital of L'Occhio Che Piange Quando E Pleased, by the great U-yijii
R-Har-Tt himself! The keys lit up as Doc pounded on them, the noise of his
opus shattering all glass objects within a ten-mile radius and fritzing air
traffic control processors across half the planet. Multi-tentacled aliens
tied themselves in knots as the harmonics disrupted the equilibrium of their
inner ears. Sympathetic tremors collapsed intercontinental single-span
bridges. A primitive tribe in the Ice Forests of Wier thought the noise was
the thundering of an an gry God, and so committed mass suicide by having sex
with horrible slibberdorphs.

Caught helplessly in the clutches of the Doctor's organ, Anna Seven writhed
and thrashed in her restraints as climax after climax wracked her body, each
one more stupendous than the last. Piercing beams of intolerable ecstasy
penetrated to the core of her being, she was drowning in a sea of rapture,
tossed helplessly on undulating waves of sensuality. Sprouting a dozen extra
pairs of holographic arms, the Doctor launched into a fierce rendition of Das
Axtzeichen im Rcken des Bren by Netonostridarimachii, a piece that could
normally only be played by an entire orchestra of Tonarian octopoids with
multiple personality disorder. Doc's feet hammered on the pedals, photonic
sweat flew from his face, the hair on the sides of his head stood up like
Toostuck's ears. The resonant vibrations from his Excessor machine drew to a
mighty crescendo, causing the walls to wobble like an Obonian jellyfish, and
the ceiling to shed a hail of chandeliers and roofing panels as it split
apart to accompani ment of a deafening roar.

"WHAT THE &$^#?" exclaimed the Doctor as the roof was blasted off completely,
exposing the glaring white plumes of a starship's rocket engines.

"Tom!" cried Anna joyfully, recognising the sensuous lines of her spaceship.

voice of the ship's computer. "RELEASE YOUR CAPTIVE OR I WILL DESTROY YOU

"Never!" shouted a defiant Doc.


A hatch in the belly of the spaceship slid open and Harry hurtled out,
screaming the battle cry of the Old Federation. "Death to the redshirts!"

With a tremendous CLANG! the hapless drone struck the protruding organ pipes
of the Doctor's Excessor machine, tumbled down the side in a chorus of
electronic squawks, skittered across the floor and was promptly buried under
a ton of rubble from the collapsing roof.

"Ha-ha! How about that?!" said the Doctor gleefully. "Did you really think
this stupid tin box of a servant drone could take on a being of MY artificial
intelligence? I have the combined deviousness of ten billion public relations
firms, the incorporated personalities of history's most conniving

"And as much hair as an android's bottom!" snarled B'Elannarella as she
kicked down the door. A dreaded Black Dildo was clasped menacingly in her

"YOU!" shouted the Doctor in disbelief. "But I thought you'd been eaten by
the Tyrant's voracious lesbians?!"

"It takes more than a couple of butterfly-chewing Rigellian dancers with
foot-long tongues to keep me down. I gnawed through my chains, headbutted
my way out of the cell and bit the heads off three redshirts to escape!"
B'Elannarella pointed her dildo at the evil hologram and dialed it to
SuperSquirt. "Now release her at once, you photonic windbag!"

"I refuse to have every Tom, plastic Dick and Harry interrupting my operatic
masterpiece!" roared the Doctor. Reaching into a black bag he pulled out a
curved, sinister-looking device with primitive square buttons on top. To her
horror Anna recognised her own phaser. Cackling evilly, Doc pointed it at
B'Elannarella and squeezed the trigger. With a petulant whine every dust
particle in the room was sucked into its nozzle.

"AARRGGHH!!!" screamed Doc in frustration. He threw the phaser to the ground
and deactivated himself in a shimmer of angry photons.

Curious, B'Elannarella picked up the phaser and turned it over. A sticker on
the back declared:

`This authentic Federation-issue phaser (circa 2370) was generously donated
to the Museum of Neurotic Irresponsibility by the Ferengi Commerce

B'Elannarella peeled back the sticker to see the words: `Remington Dustbuster
- Number One in hand-held vacuum cleaners.'

Hastening over to the Excessor Organ, B'Elannarella unlocked the alcove that
was holding Anna prisoner, pulled out the beautiful astrometrix and clutched
her in a passionate embrace.

"OH PERFECTION!" cried Anna as her dermaplastic biosuit changed
B'Elannarella's loving hug into a torrent of indescribable pleasure. She
pressed her full lips against her rescuer's mouth in a desperate attempt to
sate her primitive second millennium urges.

"We don't have time for that now," said B'Elannarella, pushing Anna away. "We
have to free the Forces of Freedom and liberate Sogo!"

"But it would be a great error; a terrible, tragic error of paramount
proportions, if we did not make love!" moaned Anna, pulling her back.

The sight of the curvaceous Earth beauty, her full breasts heaving and pupils
dilated in passion, almost made B'Elannarella forsake herself. "No!" she
cried, struggling with the overwhelming urge to rip that tight-ass biosuit
off with her teeth and devour Anna's crotch. "I refuse to violate canon! A
warrior's first duty must be to her honour. Sex," she added with a lascivious
grin. "Comes afterwards."

* * *

"Omega Molecule, they're torturing them!" gasped Anna as they peered down
into the Pit of Despair. Under the direct supervision of the Great Tyrant,
the captured Forces of Freedom were suffering the torment of numerous
sado-masochistic acts. Knoluk was being scrubbed clean of his spots in a
boiling pot of leola root stew. Toostuck was being tickled with feathers
until he laughed. Another of B'Elannarella's men, Tom Paris, was being
roasted over hot coals by an enthusiastic crowd of T/7 slash writers.

"There's Havent Kum!" whispered B'Elannarella, pointing off to one side. The
former foremost ensign was being forced to endure the evil attentions of the
Siamese Delaney Twins of Stella Five, who were using some kind of brain
probe on him. According to the orifice in which the probe was being inserted,
Havent's brains were located in his ass.

Screaming out an exultant battlecry, B'Elannarella and Anna leapt into the
Pit, their boots landing directly on top of Tom Paris, press-sealing him into
the hot coals and scattering slash writers like ninepins.

"Ratings or cancellation!" cried Harry, tumbling over the edge after them and
falling into the pot of leola root stew. His external circuits shorted out in
a blinding spray of electric sparks, making Knoluk's hair stand up like Londo
from `Babylon Five'.

"Hi Mum!" snarled B'Elannarella, grabbing the Tyrant by her bun of hair and
trying to twist her head off.

"Don't just stand there like a lump of wood!" shouted the Tyrant to Chakarma.
"Kill her!"

As the Catchman swung the gaping muzzle of his electrocannon towards
B'Elannarella, Anna leapt forward and seized it in her cyber-implanted hand.
Chakarma screamed as his weapon was crushed with a single, powerful squeeze.

Realising that liberation was at hand, the prisoners threw themselves at
their torturers. Knoluk forced a particularly vile chunk of leola root down
the throat of a bellowing redshirt. Toostuck impaled a guard on his pointed
ears. The only dissenter was Havent Kum, who kept trying to fight his
rescuers, protesting, "But we were just getting to the good part!"

His red pyjamas smoldering, Tom Paris clambered out of the hot coals, his
face scorched with more spots than Knoluk after a severe case of Talaxian

"Surrrenderrrrr!" slurred Harry as he burnt through the stewpot with a
laserdrill. A tidal wave of leola root stew erupted from the hole and swept
away a gang of the Tyrant's lesbians just as they were about to ream out
Toostuck with strap-on SuperPenetrators. "Rrresistance is fffutile!" His
external cameras fried, the drone charged blindly across the torture chamber,
ramming into Tom Paris and knocking him back into the fiery pit.

"Guards! Guards!" shouted the Tyrant. Using her short height to advantage,
the queen flipped B'Elannarella with an expert Oh-Shit! throw. "Where are my
feared Redshirts?!"

The doors burst open and in stormed an entire battalion of the Tyrant's elite
guards, faces blank as Borg drones, red shirts bare of nametags or any sign
of individuality. With knee high boots smashing into the ground, they marched
towards the Forces of Freedom in an unstoppable phalanx. Charging up to Anna
Seven, the soldiers took one look at the curvaceous astrometrix in her
skin-tight biosuit and promptly passed out as all the blood rushed from their
heads to their groins.

"Useless pricks!" cursed the Great Tyrant. "If you want to do something,
you've always got to do it yourself!" Reaching down to one of the unconscious
redshirts, the queen grabbed his belt-fed multi-barreled hand-artillery. "Say
hello to my little friend here!" she screamed, blazing away on full auto. The
Forces of Freedom dived for cover as hundreds of thick rubber dildos
ricocheted all around the Pit. Tom Paris, staggering out of the coals once
more, doubled over as a rubber cock slammed into his balls at twice the speed
of sound.

Suddenly the wall behind the queen glowed red and disintegrated. The muzzle
of what seemed to be the biggest gun in the entire universe slid through the
hole, mounted on an enormous battle tank driven by the Doctor.

"The Photonic Cannon!" gasped the Forces of Freedom, their faces white with

"You're just in time, Doctor," said the Great Tyrant in jubilation. "DESTROY

"Ladies first!" the Doctor snarled. An incandescent streak of photonic energy
shot from the barrel of his cannon and enveloped the evil queen.

`Fuck Kes, I should have turned him into a tricorder,' was the Tyrant's last
thought before she was obliterated. With a great peal of insane laughter the
Doctor swung his death ray across the room, destroying unconscious redshirts,
torture devices, fleeing slash writers, Chakarma Sutray, Havent Kum, and
especially Tom Paris whom he'd always found particularly annoying.

"Oh no, not again!" said Harry as he was also killed.

Turning everything in its path into scorched lumps of radioactive metal, the
beam advanced relentlessly towards B'Elannarella, who was struggling to get
out from under the unconscious bulk of a Ropondian mega-dyke.

"NO!" shouted Anna Seven, throwing herself in the beam's path.

"ANNA!" cried B'Elannarella, as the deadly ray engulfed the beautiful

But instead of destroying her, the blast was absorbed by Anna's dermaplastic
garment, which changed the massive torrent of energy into a galaxy-shattering
orgasm. "OH-MEEEEGA!" Anna cried. Writhing in ecstasy, she advanced
relentlessly towards the Doctor.

"She's unstoppable!" cried Doc in fear, firing one impotent blast after
another into the Earthwoman's formidable chest. Pupils wide and blonde hair
flying, Anna raised her cybernetic left hand. Twin tubules erupted from the
surface of her knuckles and shot towards the Doctor.

"NOOOOO!!!!" screamed the Doctor, as he realised what she was about to do.

"YES!" shouted Anna in rapture. Activating her Exaltation Transference Link,
the young astrometrix downloaded every particle of orgasmic energy she could
muster into the Doctor's primary matrix. His evil nature unable to cope with
the incredible outpouring of Love, the hologram destablilised forever in a
radiant blaze of photons. Anna collapsed to the ground, completely exhausted.

"The end of a twisted madman," said Knoluk, as he and Toostuck freed
B'Elannarella from under her burden. Shoving past them, B'Elannarella rushed
over to Anna's limp form, cradling her in her arms. The Earthwoman's face was
pale and tears were running down her cheeks.

"Oh B'Elannarella," she sobbed in despair. "That was the most amazing climax
I've had in my entire life. It was true Perfection. I'll never experience
anything like that again."

It was an understandable error.

After all, Anna Seven had never made love to a Klingon before.



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