ELEVEN

"It's no use," King Roland shook his head as the water from the running sink in the bathroom was spilling out into the hall, "We're going to have to break it down. Somebody get the battering ram."

"No Daddy, you can't!" Vespa protested.

"Vespa my child, something might have happened to your husband," her father pointed out.

"But if you break the door down, you'll wreck the ivory hinges!" Vespa cried, "This castle can't afford the cost of replacing them if they're destroyed!"

Roland groaned. "All right Vespa, we won't use the ram," he sighed, "We'll just have to take it off its hinges manually. Porter, see if you can find the royal disassembler somewhere on the grounds."

"Whatsa goin' on here?" came the repulsive voice of the least liked inhabitant of Roland's castle. Tar-Tar, a hideous lime gangly…thing came striding up the hall. "Issa something' goin' on with Captain Lone Starr sir?"

"Uh, we've got it under control, Tar-Tar," the king said quickly, "Thanks for your offer, though."

"Uh oh, the sink, she'sa broke!" Tar-Tar exclaimed, noticing the water spillage, "Don'ta worry Captain Lone Starr, meesa save you!" he shouted, tearing at the door.

"Break that door and you're a dead-thing!" Vespa yelled, hitting him on the shoulder. "Ow! Thata hurt bad!" Tar-Tar complained.

"Dot, why don't you take Tar-Tar outside and try to tell him about the situation here," Roland asked the droidette.

"Why me, sir? "Dot asked, desperate not to do it. Roland gave her a look that told her she'd better do it or else. Sighing, she took Tar-Tar by the hand and rolled off with him, saying, "Well, I guess you could say..."

"A few days ago, a group of interplanetary beings found themselves under attack by the ruthless Spaceball army. These beings promptly escaped from the clutches of Dark Helmet to the deep reaches of space. Today still wanted by the Spaceballs, they exist thirsting for justice and peace. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you could hire the ALF team."

"Hey Shumway, give it a rest," Lone Starr called to him, "You're starting to get on my nerves with those fake promos."

"Well, just thought you'd like to hear one more," Alf shrugged. He glanced up at the clock on the wall of the Winnebago. "Well, it looks like we're definitely going to have to go into Spaceball City now," he said, "The day Helmet gave's up."

"Well, let's hope a couple squadrons are camped at Kerr Ash Helmet's statue on Jupiter 2," Barf said, helping himself to a bowl of Dog Star Kibbles 'n Bits, "The less we have to go through on Spaceball City, the better."

"I knew Kerr Ash Helmet," Alf commented, "We fought together in the Drone Wars. He got his head cut off."

"The Drones cut his head off?" Brian asked.

"No, he was trying to open a can of chicken noodle soup and was leaning too close to the opener," Alf explained, "He never did have much sense with mechanical things."

"I thought you Melmacians only fought in one war?" Tripley asked, trying out the arms of the Indestructo Suit Yogurt had given her.

"As a whole we did, but this one night I was just finishing my sit-down routine, and the next things I knew this conehead guy swept me from my dressing room and put me in his spaceship," Alf told her, "He said they needed every available person to fight the Drones. The rest was a blur.'

"Well tonight can't be a blur," Lone Starr said, typing in coordinates to the Winnebago's computer, "Better we go in, get the people you need, and get out. The longer we stay around, Shumway, the more danger you're in."

"I don't care about personal danger, Lone Starr," Alf cocked a disintegrating pistol, "The primary concern for me is the safety of the people I love. And incidentally, I have just the plan that'll get us past security without being detected."

"Oh do you?" Lone Starr raised his eyebrow.

"Why do I get the distinct impression no one here trusts the hairy guy?" Alf asked Brian.

"Maybe because they don't?" Brian shrugged.

"Well we'll change that tonight," Alf started rooting through the Winnebago's dressers. "Hey Barfo, come here when you've got a spare minute. This plan of mine involves you heavily."

The Tanners' cell door opened. "OK you three," buzzed a droid with a laser gun, "Time to die on national TV. On your feet."

"But the twenty-four hours aren't up yet!" Willie protested, showing the droid his watch, "Alf still has twenty-one minutes!"

"You think he'd show up now if he hasn't already?" posed another droid, joining its associate, "Hands in the air and be silent during contestant processing."

"Listen, we'd rather just die normally, and not on your shows," Kate tried to appeal to the druids as they hustled her and her family out into the hallway, "I mean, I'm sure there's more worthy…contestants than we are."

"Sorry, we've already put you on the promos, and we don't want to disappoint the viewing public," said a Spaceball dressed in a fancy tuxedo with a clipboard, "Here, sign these release forms exonerating us from any liability in your expirations later."

"Uh, don't we get a phone call?" Lynn asked as one of the guards slapped a nametag saying HELLO MY NAME IS LINNE on her chest, "I wouldn't mind calling my brother and telling him to, well, you know, to look for us on TV tonight."

"Sorry, Bell Galactic service is out for this galaxy," the "producer" said, "Guards, would you be so kind to escort these contestants over to Studio 66?"

"Move it," the guards and droids pushed the Tanners most unkindly through the halls of the Spaceball prison complex and through several other facilities before arriving at the wings of a large television studio. About two dozen other convicts, some of them completely different species, were being held outside two large doors with a sign saying DO NOT ENTER STUDIO WHEN RED LIGHT IS FLASHING OR ANY OTHER TIME; THIS DOES MEAN YOU. "Line up," a guard stationed near the doors ordered, waving a laser gun at the prisoners, "We need you to be in the order you're going on the air. You, pull in your tentacles."

A squid-like alien growled angrily at the request, but several lasers in its face made it back off. Satisfied all was ready, the producer announced, "Three minutes to tape," and walked off. "Uh, pardon me," Willie tapped the convict in front of him on the back, "What are they executing you for?"

"Being in too many bad moods," the convict told him.

"Oh," Willie frowned, "Well, I guess there's nothing on this planet that's sacred. We're in for harboring a Melmacian, and frankly I think we got a bum rap."

"Melmacian?" the convict looked him over, "Well, now I can understand why you're here. Nobody in this whole galaxy likes a Melmacian. They're among the most irritating forms of life imaginable. And anyone who harbors them s even worse. Now I know why they saved the atom chamber for you."

"Wait, what's the atom chamber?" Kate asked, not liking the sound of this.

"Oh, it's the punishment they always save for the end of the show," another prisoner piped up, "I should know. I was the technical director for the last five years. Up until two hours ago."

"What did you do to get here?" Lynn asked.

"They switched over to a droid production crew, so we human staff members got the death sentence," the prisoner said glumly. A group of people behind him grunted in agreement.

"President Skroob salute!" came the call up the hall. Skroob and his entourage were walking toward the convicts under heavy guard. "HAIL SKROOB!" the guards all shouted, giving the salute.

"Mr. President, Mr. President, please, I need to file an appeal!" Willie screamed in Skroob's direction, "We're innocent, I swear! Come on, what do you say, grant us a pardon and…"

Ah, shut it pal!" Helmet shouted at him, "We're Spaceballs, we don't give pardons."

"You tell him, Lord Helmet," Skroob nodded to his associate. As the group passed through a large doorway heading for a private booth, the president told a guard, "Lock it down." The guard nodded and hit a button on the wall. No fewer than eight heavy vault-like blast doors lowered into place and locked. "Extra security," the former technical director told the Tanners, "No point in risking the president's life when there's a million unhappy felons around…as if you couldn't have already guessed."

"Quiet for taping in five, four, three, two, one," came a droid's voice over the hallway intercom. Several monitors in the vicinity were turned on. "This is SBC, Planet Spaceball's best and only TV network," said an announcer over an off-key chime arrangement done against the SBC space turkey and its discolored tail feathers.

"COME HOME TO S-B-C!" announced the network chorus. The monitors cut to shots inside the studio, where multi-colored strobe lights were flashing wildly all around. "Live from Spaceball City, it's everyone's favorite show, Execution Tonight!" boomed the studio announcer over wild cheering from the audience, "Tonight, we bring you Judgment Day for two liberals, who face the hydra monster pit. Planet Spaceball's top thief gets locked in an airless safe and slowly suffocates. And a bunch of Melmacian hoarders trying to stop our efforts to keep your air plentiful and fresh face the worst death of all, the atom chamber! Special music guests include your personal favorite, Jichael Maxson!"

"Jichael Maxson?" Kate raised her eyebrows, puzzled, "You don't think they could mean…?"

"Kate, the way they think on this planet, it probably is," Willie said, "But if he makes a move for Lynn, I'll wring his neck."

"Well it would be worse if Brian were here," Kate said, nodding slowly, "He probably be all over…"

The look of discomfort on her husband's face made her stop. "And now, here's the host of Execution Tonight, Spike Tougher!" the announcer bellowed. Tougher, a clean-cut Spaceball in a pure white suit, rose magically out of the floor. "Good evening Planet Spaceball!" he called out to the wildly cheering audience, "We're so glad you could join us tonight. We'd especially like to thank President Skroob and his staff for stopping by for this evening's show."

Inside their bombproof, bulletproof, waterproof, electric proof, soundproof, and just-about-everything-else-you-could-name-proof booth, Skroob rose to his feet and bowed gracelessly to the audience. "Ah, my public, how they love me," he said to no one in particular.

"Yeah, but not as much as he loves himself," Helmet grumbled to Sandurz.

"Shhhhh!" General Mills whispered to them. The half-alien, half-droid pushed up the volume on his personal monitor to almost full level. "And now, ARE YOU READY?" Tougher announced to the audience.

"YEAH!" they yelled back.

"Well then, on behalf of President Skroob and his staff, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages……..LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLET'S GET READY TO KILL SOME PEOPLE!" Tougher shouted, eliciting a huge cheer. "Now we'll turn the proceedings over to my associate Lotto, who'll bring out our first special guests of the night; Lotto?"

Lotto, a large red humanoid cockroach, buzzed out into sight. "Well Spike," he said in a German accent, "Our first guests is Oliver East, disgraced guard, who let Druidian freighters pass right under our radar beams and almost attack this beautiful planet of ours. You know what that means, folks? We're going to put him on the…"

"WHEEL…OF…MISFORTUNE! the audience shouted out. Several droids wheeled out a large vertical wheel. At the front of the prisoner line, several more droids dragged a kicking and screaming East into the studio and strapped him to the wheel. "That's right, it's time to spin the Wheel of Misfortune," Tougher announced, taking hold, of one end of the wheel, "Lotto and I'll give it a whirl to decide Oliver's fate. Whatever happens, parents, let your kids see it. It'll make them real Spaceballs. Ready Lotto?"

"I'm always ready, Spike," Lotto said, taking the other end of the wheel.

"Then HERE WE GO!" Tougher and Lotto gave the wheel a strong spin. After about five revolutions, it came to a stop on Flaming Death. "Well Oliver, looks like you've got a date with the lava pit," Tougher told East, pulling a level. A trapdoor underneath the wheel opened, and East was dumped into a fiery pit below. Flames rose high as he was scalded to death. In the hallway, the Tanners grimaced at the views being shown from the cameras inside the pit. "Yes, I was right," Willie groaned, "These people are definitely the most repugnant in the universe."

"I'd like to announce that I'll never watch Fear Factor again when your backs are turned," an equally turned off Lynn told him and her mother.

"Wait, you've been watching that?" Kate raised her eyebrows at her daughter.

"How about that lava pit, folks?" Tougher asked the cheering crowd, "Well, there's more people to get rid of tonight, so let's bring out our next contestant…"

"So he said, 'I know what the punch line is, rectum damn near killed him,'" the guard near the entrance of the Spaceball entertainment complex said to his partner, "But I told him no, that's not it at all. It's…wait, give me a minute, I…"

Just then the doorbell rang. "Pizza Saucer, special delivery!" rang out an unfamiliar voice. Both guards jumped and drew their rifles. "Identify yourself!" the second one shouted.

"I just did," the person outside said.

"Oh," the guard said sheepishly, "But we didn't order a pizza."

"It's free and on us," the deliverer said. Their mouths watering, the guards foolishly opened the door. "Here's your pie, sir," Alf said, throwing the pizza into the nearest guard's face.

"And here's yours," Barf hit the other in the face with a second one. Both guards staggered backwards. "Anchovies!" the first one groaned, "I hate anchovies!"

"Tripley, if you please," Alf stepped aside as Lone Starr's ex-lover stomped forwarding her Indestructo Suit. Setting an internal dial to taster, she shocked both guards into silence. Lone Starr then stepped up and conked them out with a lead pipe. "Good work all," he told everyone, "Now we've got to find out where they tape Execution Tonight."

"Let's see," Alf consulted a map on the nearby wall, "We're here, near It's a Small War, um…it looks like it's about two studios down and three studios over. I think we should pose as door to door salesman this time, pretend we're selling doorknobs."

"Or better yet, let's just knock out the guards and storm the place firing away with everything we've got?" Tripley suggested.

"That'll work too," Alf shrugged.

"What do I do?" Brian asked, siding up alongside his friend.

"Stay close to the old Alfer," the Melmacian told him, "And take comfort in the fact that I'll probably take a laser blast for you."

"Thanks," this didn't really comfort Brian.

"Someone's coming," Barf pointed up the hall where an advancing patrol was heard stomping. With no other open options, everyone froze in ridiculous poses. Somehow this ludicrous plot worked; the guards walked right by the obvious intruders without noticing them in the least. "That was close," the mawg commented once they were past.

"Well, we haven't got a moment to lose," Lone Starr said, glancing at a watch on his wrist that wasn't there, "Let's get cracking."

The five of them strode up the hall until they came upon another guard stationed near the audience entrance at a checkpoint with a sign labeled NO UNAUTHORIZED OR AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL PERMITTED BEYOND THIS POINT. Lone Starr waved for the others to wait where they were, then crept up behind the guard and walloped him on the head with the lead pipe. This didn't have the effect he'd hoped for, though; the guard, instead of falling unconscious to the ground, clutched his head and howled in pain. Stunned, Lone Starr looked around and saw a glass soda bottle on the ground. He picked it up and hit the guard with that. "OW! OO! OUCH!" the guard continued to yell, "You broke my skull! You broke my skull! You broke…!"

Lone Starr spun him around and slugged him in the face, but this also failed to knock him out. "My jaw! You broke my jaw!" he screeched loud enough to wake the dead on every planet without ten parsecs.

"Uh, a little help please?" Lone Starr appealed to his comrades. Barf stepped forward and delivered a one-two combination to the guard's chest. "My kidneys! You smashed my kidneys!" the guard screamed onward.

"Let me," Brian ran forward and punched the guard in his reproductive organ. "MY BALLS! YOU HIT…!" the guard finally keeled unconscious to the floor-but not before hitting the alarm on the wall. Sirens wailed throughout the complex. "Well, we've pretty much run out of options," Lone Starr said, pulling Brian close, "We've got to use the ducts."

"Sure, but explain to me why they always use ducts in these types of stories," Alf said as they ran for the nearest vent.

"Once this is over, I want to head back to Exodosus and get the rest of the T.A.R.G.E.T.s we've got armed and ready to go," Helmet said, checking his watch, "We're behind schedule as it is."

"What's the matter Helmet, not having fun?" Belz asked him almost derivatively.

"Of course I'm having fun!" Helmet retorted, "I loved Clock Game a few minutes ago, even though Tougher and Lotto had to stall so the bomb's clock would reach zero and blow that Termathian up. This is why we watch Execution Tonight."

"And for the Solid Platinum Dancers, "Cuckoo pointed to the attractive Spaceball women dancing along with Jichael Maxson as he crooned away about how big and nasty the Spaceball race was, along with high pitched and pointless squeaks.

"Well, it looks like we're at the end, so we'll…" it was then that Skroob noticed the alarm buzzers ringing next to his armchair. "Oh boy, what's this now?" he frowned.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for," Tougher announced to the crowd down in the studio, "It's time to bring out the atom chamber!"

The crowd burst into huge cheers. The guards outside the studio forced the Tanners into the studio, where a droid took hold of each of them. "Mr. William Tanner and family, you have the good fortune to now take your seat in the atom chamber," Tougher said, pointing to a large glass rectangular chamber at the far end of the studio, "Once we press the button, the laser there will activate the hidden nuclear properties in the chamber, and the resulting fission reaction will disintegrate you in seconds. Quick and painful, yet fun to watch. Any last words?"

"Uh, yes, I'd like to say some last words," a weak Willie strolled over to the host's podium, "I'd like to say that, even though you're about to murder us in cold blood for crimes we didn't commit, we're going to go strongly and without qualms. We are after all men and not mice. Our hearts are strong, and we won't feel…I mean to say, you may take our lives, but you will never take our humanity. For we will live on in spirit even though our…" At this point he proved unable to keep up the charade any more and collapsed into a sobbing heap on the ground. "Oh PLEASE don't kill us!" he sobbed, tugging on Tougher's pant collar, "I don't want to die! I'm too young to die! I'm too ME to die!"

"On your feet, inferior species," a droid hauled him to his feet and dragged him into the atom chamber. "Very nice Willie," Kate derided her husband as they were locked into chairs inside, "Short and utterly pointless."

"You're welcome," Willie told her. Seeing their prisoners were now firmly restrained, the droids shut the chamber and locked it. A sinister-looking laser was wheeled into place near an opening in the chamber. "Everyone ready?" Tougher asked the crowd. Without even waiting for the enthusiastic response, he told the droid manning it, "Let them have it." The droid nodded and hit a button on the side. The laser slowly roared to life. The Tanners gulped nervously and closed their eyes, expecting the end…

Just then a loud blast erupted from the vents. In the smoke and confusion that followed, Lone Starr jumped out and aimed his Schwartz at the laser, causing it to turn sideways just as it reached full power. A red beam shot out and hit a droid, disintegrating it in a blast of colorful circles. The hero activated the Schwartz's long orange beam and set about nailing every droid that came at him firing its laser. Barf jumped in with laser fire from one of the rifles Yogurt had given him on discount, destroying the rest of the droids. Then the mawg turned his fire on the laser, blowing it up in a blast of sparks. "My beautiful laser!" Tougher lamented, looking over the wreck of his machine, "This cost me two hundred grand I don't have!"

He reached into his pocket for a laser of his own. Lone Starr reached him first and held the Schwartz to his head. "Don't even think about it," he told the host, "Your show's been cancelled."

"You talking to me?" Alf asked over his shoulder.

'No!" Lone Starr shouted. "Go let your friends out."

"Well folks, it looks like we'll have to end the show early tonight, so this is Spike Tougher saying, 'HELLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPP!'" the host shouted at the camera. Once the red tally light went out, he dove cowardly down through the hole in the floor he'd entered in. There was a low thump below, followed by Tougher moaning, "OUCH!"

In the meantime, Alf ran over to the atom chamber and blasted off the lock with the smallest gun he had. This gun had a tremendous recoil, sending him flying halfway back across the room. Shaking himself off, he thrust open the door and hit the main switch to unlock his adopted family from their seats. "Alf, how did you find us?" Lynn asked him excitedly.

"Oh, I have my methods," Alf said flexing his muscles coolly, "I believe some thanks are in order, Willie?" he gave the paternal figure a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe later Alf, once we get out of here," Willie said dismissively, pushing past him, "This doesn't let you off the hook for what you've done to…what the hell are you?"

He stared up at Barf, who was about two feet taller than he was. "What's the matter with you?" Barf asked him, "Haven't you ever seen a mawg before?"

"No," Kate was equally amazed to see Barf, "And quiet frankly I don't think I'd ever want you on my couch."

"Well at any rate, we'd better get you people out of here," Lone Starr ran up and shook everyone's hand, "Captain Lone Starr, hero for hire. We need…"

Just then there was a loud crashing. Dozens more guards swarmed in through the door that no one was ever supposed to come through. In the presidential box, Helmet grinned widely behind his visor. "So Lone Starr," he said in his sinister voice, "You thought you could come around behind our backs. Well now I have both you and Shumway in my clutches!"

"Well," a fluttering Lotto sneered as the guards surrounded everyone, "I guess my show's still going strong now."

"Yeah, well my Nielsen board begs to differ," Lone Starr retorted.

"Go to heck, Lone Starr!" Lotto snapped.

"Go to heck?" the hero frowned.

"You can't say hell on Spaceball television," Lotto explained.

"Oh," Lone Starr shrugged.

"Get that Melmacian," Lotto ordered the guards. Thinking quickly, Alf grabbed Barf's laser rifled and held it to his own head. "One more step and the Melmacian gets it!" he warned the guards in a rough voice. They all stopped short of him. "What's he doing?" one guard asked a colleague.

"I have no idea," the other said.

"Over this way, move!" Alf forced himself toward the air vent as if he was being made to do so by another person. "Please, don't let him take me!" he cried in a desperate voice. "Shut up, Gordon!" he told himself in the rough voice.

"Has Alf flipped his lid?" Kate asked out loud.

"No, he's got just the right idea," Barf whispered in her ear, "It's something I would have thought of. Let's follow him."

"Isn't someone going to help him?" another guard abruptly asked, watching Alf with worry.

"Shh!" still another hissed, "That's the surest way to get him killed."

Despite the absolute ridiculousness of the situation, the guards stood absolutely still and watched in horror as Alf led himself as hostage toward the vent and up into it. "You morons!" Lotto growled at them. The big cockroach fluttered toward them, taser in hand. Lone Starr bent down, picked up a giant flyswatter that just happened to be lying nearby, and whacked Lotto with it. "A finis!" Lotto moaned as he spiraled to the ground. This brought the guards to their senses. "Let's get them!" one yelled, and they charged toward them escapees. "Close your eyes, "Lone Starr told the others. Then he pointed his Schwartz toward the lights and made them increase in luminosity. The guards cried in pain and covered their own eyes. Lone Starr nodded in approval and climbed in after the others.

"Alf, Tripley's stuck in the vent," Brian called to his friend as they approached him.

"Oh Brian, you're all right!" Kate hugged him tight. Then her expression abruptly changed. You brought him here?" she demanded to Alf, "You're endangering his life in the process of saving us?"

"Well Kate, it was this or the Ochmoneks, and I think we know which option is more dangerous in the long run, "Alf told her, "Now if you're intent on heading back to L.A., help us get Tripley undone. Helmet'll be on the warpath soon."

Indeed, Helmet was now pounding on the airtight door to the presidential booth. "Open this up now!" he screamed to the attendants on the other side of the door.

"We're going as fast as we can, Lord Helmet," the head attendant told him, "But with eight doors it's a little time-consuming."

"I want Lone Starr!" Helmet shrieked, "And Shumway! And they're getting away!"

"Not on my watch, Helmet," Skroob activated his personal pager. "Attention all guards and droids," he announced, "Lone Starr and Gordon Shumway are loose on the planet. Seize them and hold them."

"Mr. President, are we sure we want to commit the droids?" Sandurz asked, pushing on the innermost door with Helmet, "They've just come off the assembly lines; they might not be combat ready yet."

"Trust me Sandurz, they're ready," Skroob reassured him. "You hear that boys?" he told his men, "Go get 'em, on the double!"