What happened this time Todd, your luck ran out? The question came from the esteemed Professor and President George Lazenby, of Lazenby University and The Universe, Incorporated, respectively.
No man is perfect, Mr. Lazenby. Every man’s plans and designs are born of imperfect minds.
Interesting. This is a genuine Clone City passport?
You profess to be a Clone City citizen?
I profess to be a citizen of The Universe, but specifically for the moment, I am as my passport declares.
Ah-ha, that I am glad to hear, declared the Professor and President, because I can also charge you with treason. Ah, there’s an irony for you. And with robbery and with murder as well. And those charges I guarantee you will stick.
Then I should be grateful for the abolition of capital punishment, should I not?
Lazenby picked up the phone, which had been buzzing in an old-fashioned sort of way. Yes, send him in. There’s a gentleman on his way in who’s been looking forward to meeting you longer than I have.
This would be Dr. Wormwood.
Dr. Wormwood entered the room and immediately retreated to a corner of hushed and urgent exchanges with the Professor and President.
The decision is still irrevocable, Todd was able to make out from Lazenby.
What do you mean it’s irrevocable? He committed crimes in this state. Capital crimes. This is my jurisdiction. Why is it irrevocable?
Todd interrupted. I see now your imperfection, gentlemen. If I were in your place, I would not have taken me alive. Given the option, however, I can always be sure that you will preserve my life. But fortunately it’s not up to you.
Just then a whirling whooshing sound emerged from outside the window which Todd amazingly just up and jumped through. The doctor and the Professor and President gathered at the broken glass to see Todd swinging from a rope attached to a late model flying saucer which was rapidly making its way out over the city skyline, towards the ocean and skyward. They could just make out through the cockpit window the unmistakable profile of Unit 8633 Joe.
Aloha, melon farmers! shouted Todd as he swung in the wind.
We should’ve never built that damn droid, growled Lazenby. Wormwood was already onto the brandy.