Theme Planet (Anarchy)
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It’s better than sex! It’s better than drugs! If you haven’t been sick yet, you soon will be...Welcome to Theme Planet.
Welcome to Theme Planet, an entire alien world dedicated to insane rides, excessive hedonism and dangerous adventure. Operated by the Monolith Corporation, Theme Planet is the No. 1 destination for fun-seeking human holidaymakers Galaxy-Wide!
Amba Miskalov is an Anarchy Android, an assassin/torture model fitted with a Quantell Systems v4.7 KillChip. She is beautiful, merciless and deadly, and blends perfectly with her human superiors. Sent to Theme Planet on a dangerous assassination mission, Amba stumbles upon a plot to undermine and destroy Earth’s all-powerful Oblivion Government – and its Ministers of Joy.
But Amba is twisted, damaged and decadent – and this rebellion poses Amba a problem: to remain loyal to her creators and tormentors, to support the enemy – or annihilate them all.
trunks pillars of complex machinery that glistened with oil like sap. Amba seemed twitchy, looking around nervously, staring hard at the machine trees as if they might come alive and chase her. So, even androids have bad dreams, thought Dex. And the thought didn’t make him feel any better. They climbed above the tree-line, although why there should have been a tree line in this place was not immediately apparent to Dex. On Theme Planet, he had become accustomed to the strange being normal, the
the stewardess. Dex glanced up. Licked dry lips. “Go on then.” Kat giggled and slapped his arm. “At least look excited.” “Oh, I’m excited all right,” he said. Then added: I’m not bloody excited about paying for it all. But then, Dexter Colls, you always were a stingy, tight-fisted old bastard. They clinked flutes and sipped Greebo Champagne, and watched London disappear amidst the clouds, then the clouds disappear amidst the swirl of the planet. And gradually, sequentially, the grey and blue
conveyor belts with gleaming ride CARs, all brand new and waiting to be put into commission. There were stacks of hot dog stands with mechanical legs, a hundred stands high, waiting patiently to fill the bellies of Theme Planet’s adventure denizens. Dex moved forward into the factory, Makarov in fist, face grim, eyes alert. The whole place was quiet, not like the roaring factories he’d visited back on Earth. The place did have an almost subsonic hum, an undercurrent of sound, of energy, of
stunned, broken, wondering what the fuck had hit him... “Hiya, darling,” said Amba Miskalov, and her boot stomped down. Dex rolled, and the glossy black floor cracked under the force of the blow. Amba knelt and her fist slammed down; again, Dex twisted, and her knuckles left imprints in the alloy. Dex slammed his knee up, catching her in the groin, but she ignored it and grabbed his head in both hands; twisting, he bit down hard, sinking his teeth in down to Amba’s reinforced bones. Amba did
find Molly, and explore the Quad-Gal together,” said Dexter. RELEASED OF THE FRIEND, SARAH raged. And with her rage came control. On the command bridge of the lead bomber, General Kome released his grip on the comm as the mountain range reared up, expanding like stretched rubber, mountains melting into one another and flowing into a mass of liquid rock before they expanded, and like a mammoth hand reached out towards the bombers – a thousand bombers – and engulfed them with one easy swipe.