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Checkmate

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Umam Preth was preparing a deadly concoction of three parts jaffiger and two parts sillin when the robot slammed through the window.

"Hey, Professor," the Vee3 said in greeting. Its manipulator field rolled it upright.

He watched the spilled jaffiger slip through the cracks of the plas-mesh floor. Without the jaffiger, sillin was only mildly noxious. It lapped innocently against the sides of the last martini glass in the universe.

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The Rude Mechanicals vs. the Anti-Copernican Platypus

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It was Tuesday, and the Rude Mechanicals were about to plunge the Universe into mortal peril.

In other words, it was Tuesday.

The adventure had started out promisingly. “Look at this,” the Six Million Dollar Mannequin had said as their ship, the I Contain Mechanicals, shot past the Cloverleaf Quasar. “A request for services. Strength required – on a galactic scale.”

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The Rude Mechanicals

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The Rude Mechanicals flew from one end of the universe to the other, helping others where they could, generally with the best intentions and the worst results.

On this occasion, the Six Million Dollar Mannequin flew their ship, the I Contain Mechanicals, backwards into three black holes before he realized he had his map upside-down. The Mechanicals were hopelessly lost. They settled on a world called Mundux to get their bearings.

Mundux was a tiny world. You could walk around it in ten steps. The Emperor of the Munds greeted the Mechanicals.

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