Chapter 23

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The grass was bent downwards by the force of rotors and the Highwind gently touched down just outside the town limits of Junon. Trent, Cid, and Bare-It emerged. Cid produced a remote control from his pocket, pointed it at the Highwind and pressed a button. A loud chirp was emitted from the airship.

"Wha...?" inquired Bare-It.

"Anti-theft system," Cid explained

"Um," said Trent, "Don't you think the dozens of armed warriors aboard might deter potential thieves?"

"Well, you never can be too safe--Airships are a luxury item, you know."

"I can't help but notice that you said 'airships', as in plural. How many of them are out there?"

"One," admitted Cid, "But somebody might make another one someday...preferably a female somebody."

"One that weights six hundred pounds and is uglier than a pitbull's rectum?"

"That would be acceptable."

"You're whacked, Cid."

Cid laughed and took another hit from his crackpipe.

Trent pointed. "Pipe!" he shouted...

Having bribed the guard, Trent and company walked down the streets of Junon.

"Hey, wait," said Trent, "I get the nagging feeling I'm forgetting something."

"Your pants." said Cid.

"Hmph," said Bare-It, glaring at Cid, "It's only proper."

"Oh, yeah," said Trent, "There's a clothier's shop right now!"

Ten minutes later, Trent emerged from the clothing store wearing a dress.

"Nice dress, Trent," said Cid.

"Kilt," corrected Trent.

"It's got flowers on," pointed out Bare-It.

"It's a special kilt."

"It's a pretty flowery kilt."

"Lots of men wear kilts,"

"Yeah, but they didn't get a free brassiere with their kilts"

"It's a present for Aeris!"

"Sure it is, Trent. Sure it is."

Several moments passed.

"LAH-DE-DAH!" shouted Bare-It gleefully, swishing an imaginary dre--kilt.

"Go to hell," muttered Trent.

The group reached the entrance to the Hair Club underground complex and followed several signs pointing out the "SEKRIT UNNERWADR REAKTIR" before they ran head-on into an entire squad of Hair Club guards practicing their drill.

"It's Trent!" shouted the sergeant, "ATTACK!"

As a group, the squad charged--away from Trent.

"Idiots," muttered the sergeant, turning to Trent, "Sorry about that...the lamebrains I have to work with today...Let's just say in the OLD days, we would have given you one hell of a fight."

"We can wait," offered Trent.

"Naw," said the sergeant, "It'll take me forever to track the daft buggers down. Thanks for the offer, though."

"Anytime," said Trent.

The group passed the fuming sergeant and entered the reactor area. A dog growled at them, but Bare-It growled back, and the dog started to whimper. They passed unhindered and entered an elevator. There was an attractive elevator operator and two Hair Club guards.

One guard said to the other, "Tell you what--Let's waste these intruders, and whoever survives gets to date the operator."

"Agreed," said the second guard, "But what if we both--"

"Don't even talk about that," shuddered the first.

"--survive," finished the second.

"I TOLD you not to talk about that!" shouted the first guard.

"Can we fight now?" said Trent.

"Just WAIT," said the first guard, "I've got to discuss insubordination with a certain PFC."

The second guard looked nervous.

While this exchange occurred, Cid had been chatting up the elevator operator, and when Trent turned around, he found them making out in the corner. He rolled his eyes...then eyed the guards.

Reno put down a heavy box filled with lead weights.

"Fifteen minutes until break," he sighed, "Why in the hell do we need these weights in a submarine anyways?"

He turned back to his work just in time to see Trent, Cid, and Bare-It enter the room.

"Goddammit," he muttered, then: "Hi guys, long time no see. You may remember me from such films as, 'How Much Wood Can A Pissed-Off Lumberjack Chuck' and 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Steal A Car'. I'll be your combat host for toda--"

Reno's watch went off.

"Oops, I'm on break right now. I guess you'll have to fight this rusty, obsolete mech instead. Toodles!"

As he strolled off, a thought occurred to him.

"Hey," he said, "Was Trent wearing a dress?"

Having trashed the mech and the guards on one of the submarines, Trent and company boarded the sub and began pursuing the sub containing the Huge Materia, which the Hair Club for Men had been kind enough to paint a bright, vibrant red, making it an easy target in a sea populated by things which were mostly green and blue. The sub Trent stole, on the other hand, was a dark purple, blending into its surroundings perfectly.

"Full speed ahead," ordered Trent.

"We're going Flank" said Bare-It.

"So speed up to full!" demanded Trent.

"Flank is faster than full"

"FULL SPEED, I SAY, WE'RE LOSING GROUND!"

"Look at this control panel. Reverse, slow, cruise, full, flank. We're going as fast as we can."

Trent keyed the intercom, "Dammit Cid, I need more speed!"

"The engines canna take this abuse, Captain," expostulated Cid, "An I giyye any more power, the dilithium crystals will rupture!"

"How soon can you rig up something to get me more speed."

"Thirty minutes," replied Cid.

"We've got ten," answered Trent.

"I canna do it in ten, Captain," complained Cid, and then slowed down as though to explain to a retarded child, "I've...got...to...have...thirty minutes"

"There! They're slowing down! They must think they lost us. Fire phasers, Mr. Bare-It!"

"Trent, we've got no phasers. This is a submarine. directed energy weapons would be diffused by the water."

"FOLLOW THE ORDER, Mr. Bare-It!"

Rather than deal with Trent, Bare-It just hit a random button on his control panel.

Cid's voice came over the intercom. "Captain, why did we just jettison the privy? I've got to go pee!"

"Hold it in until we hit a gas station," said Trent, "Bare-It, where are those phasers?"

"Directed energy weapons were diffused by the water," explained Bare-It smugly.

"Dammit man, I'm a doctor, not a marksmith! Fire torpedoes!"

"Torpedoes, we have," said Bare-It, flipping several dip switches and pressing a big red button marked "DANGER, DO NOT PRESS". Four torpedoes slid out of their tubes and slammed into the enemy sub, holing it. It went to the bottom in a matter of seconds.

A voice came over the radio, "Attention all Hair Club vessels, return to base, repeat, return to base."

Before Trent could reach the comms station, Bare-It replied, "Hair Club No. 2 here; Returning to base."

"What do you think you're doing?" raged Trent.

"If we park the sub, they won't know this one's been captured--they won't be looking for us. We can take the keys, and go back for the huge materia at our leisure--and now we've got a submarine as well as the Highwind. While they're scanning the skies, we can slip right underneath their noses."

"Er, oh. Carry on"

"With what?"

"What?"

"You said, 'carry on'. I wasn't doing anything at the time."

"You were frying up supper, weren't you?"

"What do I look like, a French maid?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"Oh, look, we're there! Everybody off the sub!"

Preview of Chapter 24:

"I just wanted to warn you never to put a tabby's hindquarters on your wall."

"Oh, there is no countdown. We've got a tard with a book of matches trying to start the engine up right now."

"Ok, Captain Kirk, can you get us out of the collision course with Meteor?"