How Many GELFs Does It Take To Blow A Light Bulb?

He was harder than long division. Long division scrawled across shin guards, which had been fashioned from reinforced armadillo hide, specially commissioned, at gunpoint, by 21st century meat-head Vinnie Jones. That was hard, and it was starting to hurt. But it hurt so good...
Jay and Whitewolf had just saved the day in the coolest and most... sexy... sexy... GUH! NO NOT SEXY... sexy... way. Now all they had to do was lock up the GELFs and everything'd be rosy. He could go back to his quarters, away from people and their staring eyes and their sexy, sexy bodies.
He saw that Jay was grinning triumphantly back towards the guys, whose thumbs, and... other appendages, were raised in enthusiastic response. The glowing groined gropeys started to good naturedly shove each other about. A couple of them undressed. Meanwhile Cass and Katrina were still looking stunned at Chrysler's miraculous healing ability.

Wait, something else was happening. Alex blearily squinted at the changing scene from his vantage point in the crane's cab. The felled GELF had regained consciousness and was rising up behind the strange little Chrysler/Jones pocket. They hadn't noticed. “Look out!” He yelled but it was too late, the “woman” was about to smash the girls' heads together between some powerful looking rubbery spiky things. Mmm. Rubbery spiky- Stop it!
But she didn't, instead she violently jerked backwards as a metallic pincer-like attachment erupted through her chest, splattering poor White Wolf's fur with GELF-gore. Her features slid from a gorgeous replica of Cass into a grizzled pig-snouted GELF and she fell to the floor, as a shiny arachnid form scuttled away into the darkness. “Unit One.” Alex breathed. The intelligent robot seemed to be working entirely on its own initiative which was... terrifying... and thrilling... and... unfh sexy. So sexy. Damn he wanted Unit One's mandibles to- He tilted his head back and groaned, pushing the thought away, concentrating instead on his relief at his crewmates' safety and how upset he was at all the violence, first ballroom gown lady, now this. However, none of these thoughts quenched the fire, the beaming distraction beneath his stupid hospital gown. He wished he were dressed, well, and working on something boring like a broken pipe with Bedge. Or undressed and in the hot tub at a Mimian brothel.
“Zizhan!” He heard some of the GELFs cry in misery. He opened one eye and observed them dragging her off into the depths of the encampment. “We must heal her!”
“Bleh.” He closed the open eye and patted where his top pocket – and fags – should've been, but of course, were not. He exhaled heavily. “That horrible thing was Zizhan?” He murmured to himself “Eugh”.
“Looks that way” chimed a female voice by his ear. His eyes snapped open. “Argh!” He almost fell out of the cab in surprise. “Brittany?” He jerked from his seat and grabbed the side of the cab to keep from falling. “You were in the medi bay.” He stated. She quirked an eyebrow. “You were in the makeshift medi bay” he corrected himself.
“Hm. Was I, though?” She said, a slight smile playing on her lips.
“What do you want?”
“Why would you think I wanted anything?”
Alex frowned. His mind was in no fit state for riddles. He thought he'd say as much.
“Look, my mind is-”
“In no fit state for riddles. I know.” She sniffed and delicately pointed to something.
“You might want to watch what's going on with your stick.”
Alex looked dumbly down at his glowing... problem... for a moment, wondering what she meant, then back up at the cab. It seemed he'd knocked a lever during his shocked lurch from his seat, and the crane was moving forwards. Brittany had gone. “Crap.” He quickly clambered back into the seat, sticking to it in unpleasant ways through the gap in his gown, and stopped the vehicle moving. He heaved a large staple-bothering breath and decided he should probably go and see Phi – the real Phi – as soon as possible.

“Wha-oh-oh-oht the-uh-uh he-eh-ehll??” Justin's angry voice floated across the room. During Alex's lapse in crane concentration he'd accidentally knocked the horny holo's cocoon from its moorings and it was now rolling over and over, across the bay, bouncing across everything in its path, including an unimpressed Nathan. Alex grimaced sympathetically. “Oops.”

Now free of the GELFs, who had apparently all scuttled away to assist Zizhan, Jay, Cass and Katrina stepped fully over the partition wreckage and came into the large bay.
Cass looked around at her male shipmates who were in various stages of undress and horseplay. They were roughhousing and they were-
“Why are they... glowing?” Cass frowned.
White Wolf twitched his whiskers quizzically, mid clean. “Long story.”
Jay rolled his eyes as a still very naked Phil slapped past, in pursuit of a giggling Efof.

Alex climbed carefully down from the crane. He still felt sick as a- no, not a pig. He was sick of pigs. He was tired, aching, hotter than the contents of a McDonald's Apple Pie smeared across a bikini clad Cindy Crawford, and, it would seem, quite possibly mad. He plodded wearily past Katrina Cass and Jay, so tired that he only tried half-heartedly to hide his bobbing lighthouse. Cass raised her eyebrows.
Still being overriden by the Philemone, Alex - despite his exhaustion - let his eyes glide to meet Jay's
“Don't suppose-”
“Uh, neeewww.”
“Yeh. Good.”
He plodded on and was somewhat surprised to see a military looking guy standing in the doorway where Candice had so recently been torn to shreds.
“Um...” He looked around, hoping someone would say something.
Nobody took any notice. Perhaps he was the only one that could see him. Yep. Seemed like he had lost his marbles along with his pride. Great. Then he found himself wondering if the, possibly-imaginary, guy would be up for some towel flicking. “AARGH!” He yelled aloud, angry at the unwelcome thought.

Katrina was hugging Max. She looked at Jay's healed torso and then at his face. He was hiding something. “We should talk.” He tightened his lips and gave a noncommital nod before turning his attention to the male crew.
“Right come on you 'orrible lot.” He gestured at them. “Get your acts together. Everyone to the refectory. And for smeg's sake, get some bloody clothes on.”
Alex's shout of frustration at the towel-flicking thought attracted Jay's attention. He double took at the second stranger of the evening.
“Uh... Hi? Who are you?”
“Jaxx.”

The MACO blinked at the bizarre scene before him, still disoriented from Holly's revelation and now feeling even more confused. Who were these guys, and what the hell were they doing?
A pale faced, long haired man in a hospital gown appeared at his side, squinted at him oddly and prodded him. “Are you real?” He enquired, then wiped some sweat from his forehead. “You got a towel?”
Jaxx stepped backwards, “what the smeg man, are you high?”
“Not any more, mate. Not any more.”

Jaxx turned to move away from the weird guy but was confronted by a possibly even stranger one – a blue skinned person who was grinning. “It is FANTASTIC to meet you, Jaxx. I'm Efof.”
“... Hi.”
Then a man in a wheelchair approached him. “Gosh. You are very muscular” he began, before slapping himself around the face. “No Seymour. No!”
A slightly shorter fellow now leaned on the blue man and beamed at him. “Seriously though, my goggles are hella sexy, wouldn't you say?”
Jaxx wasn't sure these people were completely sane.
The bay suddenly erupted into chattering and conjecture as to the newcomers' origins. Jay whistled loudly.
“Oi! Enough! Everyone to the canteen, now. Including you two strangers. And someone bring Pancake. Roll him if you have to.”

But the GELFs had been creeping along the gantries and across the partition wreckage.

“Oh. I don't think so.” Jagara sneered. “I really don't think so.” She threw her head back and laughed wickedly. Phil coughed “Ehem. Cliché. Ehem.”
She shot him a vicious look. “Don't push your luck, seed-giver. Come on girls, it's dinner time!”

Max suddenly changed form and was no longer Max. Katrina screamed and dropped "him".

The GELFs swarmed over the unfortunate Dwarfers like ants upon a discarded jam sandwich.
As one of them read Alex's recent thoughts and became the 20th century fashion model Cindy Crawford, he reckoned his lighthouse was about to blow a bulb.

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