Set knocked out the Snark Drive with his forward Crazers (yes, emissions of amplified madness). The compost reactor started overheating, so we flipped the pressure sphincter and held our noses. With only primitive spamjets to propel us, we dogpaddled to the far side of Planet Whatever. You name it. I didn't have time.
"I'll divert Set by heading down to that moon there. Then you guys take off, get some distance between us. I'll radio back for you to pick me up if I survive."
Elder Johnson said, "Well, Cap'n, you do what you think is best." Isis just nodded and looked at her feet.
After a pause, I asked, "Isn't anyone going to try to stop me?"
"How about this, Spumms, we'll wait for you," Isis said helpfully.
I set out in the landing craft, which was about as large and technologically advanced as a Japanese talking toilet yet not nearly so comfortable. I flew by the seat of my bandages down to one of the planet's inhospitable moons. Set took the bait and followed me in his landing suit. Viewing through the aft monitor, I thought he looked like an Aztec version of Elton John. Chariots of the Clog. Good luck, Rocket Man.
After landing, I planned to get a significant lead and then figure out some way to defeat him using my wits alone, like Kirk would have done. A couple of shots from the orgone burp gun would incapacitate him for long enough to get on the ship and speed away. Sure, I was running, but I didn't know what else to do. We were hopelessly outgunned. I checked the level on my weapon. It was suspiciously low. Someone must have been using it for recreational purposes.
The landing pod hit level ground and I took off running. I was pleased with my rate of travel across the craggy surface of the moon. It was about .7 earth gravity, so I was cruising like a spidergoat. I found a pass in a massive ridge that lead to rough cover. If only I could squeeze out a silken trap to slow Set down. He landed on a flat area beside my shuttle.
My lead was not as substantial as hoped. I turned to see Set running up the path. I yelled out, "Set, maybe we can work something out. I'll give you some of my old Fantastic Four comics, you know, the ones Kirby drew."
He must not have heard me through the moon's negligible atmosphere, for he answered conclusively by firing his Osirian discorporealiztor my way. A carrier wave of accelerated particles from the ambient dust sizzled past my head. A fraction of a dog-second later, a concussion shock assaulted the rock beside me. Stones flew out and pelted me, knocking me off my feet. Set is no schlump with a blaster. If he hit me, I would be sure to be blown into fourteen pieces.
I stumbled around a stony corner in the pass and the terrain quickly dropped away. I gazed down into an immense pit that fell almost vertically down. Set would soon round the corner and all the orgone I had would probably just give him a rush enough to make my death the more satisfying. I shot myself with the burp gun and threw it into the pit. Pausing to enjoy the indigo bursting of life energy sending thrills through my mummified frame, I jumped for an outcropping about 30 meters down, giddy as sküllboy. Dropping faster than I'd planned, I slipped, did the splits, racked my insensate nuts on the rock and started tumbling down, hitting the side of the chasm as I fell. I flailed out to grab hold of any jutting feature to break my fall. It was like trying to seize a sock out of a washer in spin cycle. More fun along the spiral vector.
On one turn, I kicked out my leg, managed to counter the spin, but pushed myself out from the side of the pit. I stretched out my arms, launched out into the abyss. Trailing blue energy and tattered bandage, I plummeted. The last flight of the orgone comet.
I noticed the chasm was lit with an amber glow. I was able to make out stones set into the side, as if purposefully placed there to light the way. I picked up speed, but I was still diving in a leisurely way, so far as Earth standards go. I would still get jacked if I hit bottom without slowing myself down.
The chasm closed, turning into more of a tunnel, angling progressively more level. Vinelike growths appeared across the opening of the tunnel. I tried to grab one as I fell past, but I was traveling too fast to get a grip. Strands branched off of the main trunks. I grabbed a strand and pulled it down with me. I swung and used it to propel to the next strand. "I'm the brachiating Spacemonkey*! Take that, selective hearing punsters."
The vines got thicker until I jumped into a thicket of them. These were so slick that I fell through them, sliding through a vegetative carwash to emerge through a hole that set me down onto a stone floor with a thump. I was down, at the bottom. And from the looks of it, I was at the edge of a limitless cavern. Furthermore, it was inhabited.
Nearby, there were a few humans wandering around at the edge of an immense bazaar. They wore fezzes and burnooses, elaborate cloth wrapping around their bodies. I felt right at home. Then I saw her, reclining on a divan made from stone and vine cleverly contorted into furniture shape. She beckoned me with whispers of ghostly acoustics.
* When I introduce myself, 9 times out of 10, the person says, "Spacemonkey?" "No, see the bandage? John-Clod Van damn you!"