On Earth, because that's where he lived, more specifically in a small village in the High Peaks of Central England, Billy was making his way home from school.

It was a long journey. The closest secondary school to that small village in the High Peaks of Central England was in Manchester, thanks to the enforced closure of hundreds of other educational establishments that would otherwise have been closer.

Those closures were apparently due to 'government cuts.' Billy did not really care though. In fact there was no 'really,' about it; he simply did not care, mostly because he was eleven years old and generally, eleven year old boys don't care about things like that but also because it was his birthday and he finally had a NukeBord™.

True enough it wasn't a brand new, top of the line NukeBord™ but Billy did not care about that, either. He knew his dad was skint as hell. After all, pretty much every penny he earned at Nukes 'R' Us, was used to put food on the table or send Billy to school. That was far from being his dad's fault, of course... Even Billy at such a young, tender and impressionable age knew that it was his mother's fault or, to use the words of his father, "That fat, rancid slag."

The school bus pulled to the side of the road, emitting plumes of thick toxic smoke into the otherwise quite lovely, tranquil air as it did so, and Billy alighted. He was not alone in doing so, for the unofficial bus stop was the only one en route that served nine small villages, just like the one in which Billy lived, in the High Peaks of Central England.

Billy beamed as he slung his rucksack over his left shoulder and dropped the NukeBord™ in a groundward direction though he caught it deftly, preventing the NukeBord™ from actually hitting the ground with the use of nothing more but his own two feet.

Still beaming like an eleven year old boy who had just been given a NukeBord™ for his birthday, Billy engaged the 'bord's ignition sequence, the final part of which entailed flicking the BigRedButton™ towards the fore of the NukeBord™ at which time an atomic reaction would take place within the NukeBord™'s core and, at speeds approaching three hundred and fifty miles per hour, Billy would then make his way home.

That was what was supposed to happen, of course, but what actually happened was that due to a shoddy welding job the BigRedButton™ was not wired correctly...

Billy and his NukeBord™ started a chain reaction that eventually (eventually, in this case, meaning a grand total of thirty seven minutes) destroyed the British Isles; wiped the region clean off the map.

That's what having thirty-two thousand official (and several smaller, unofficial) fusion reactors on a small island archipelago in the North Atlantic will do though...

***

"...and in other news the United Kingdom of Great British Nuclear Powers has been effectively wiped off the map thanks to a faulty NukeBord™. NukeBord™ officials were unavailable to comment when our reporter arrived at their Adelaide offices at 0315 Earth Standard Time however their Twit-Atom feed has posted several comments since, pointing the blame firmly at BigRedButton™ rather than there having been an issue with the NukeBord™ itself."

***

"Now I know a lotta' you gots your minds elsewhere an' I respect that. What I respect an' what I expect though, well those are two very different things, indeed!"

"Sir, yes Sir!"

"Good. Now I expect you all to go through each and every damn thing and I do mean everything. Computers, both networked and otherwise; weapons, ships... Fuck, check the damn coffee machine! Anything that's got a BigRedButton™."

"Sir, yes Sir!"

"'Til I've got clarification that every gods damned BigRedButton™ is safe and ain't going to blow this space station to all hell then we're going old school."

"Sir, yes Sir!"

Commander Hollister, the most senior man in the Solar System although, it has to be said, not the man who was in charge, smiled, as his squad about-turned and scurried off to carry out his orders.

"Not you, Watkins," he boomed, quietly; quietly for him, anyway. "I got something special in mind for you."

Isabella Watkins, low-ranked though highly decorated, made her way briskly towards Hollister and snapped a smart salute as she stood before him.

"I know you had a young boy back home," he said, actually quietly this time, and with no small amount of sympathy. "I'm truly sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Sir," she replied. In truth, Watkins had been trying not to think about the fact that it was her son's birthday and that she hadn't been there to celebrate with him. Then again it wasn't all bad because if she had been there, she would've had to spend time with her worthless piece of shit excuse for an ex husband. Well that, and the fact that if she had been there she would have been blown to shit with the rest of the United Kingdom of Great British Nuclear Powers.

She would never have said a bad word against his love for Billy or the fact that he was, in truth, a half-decent dad. She couldn't stand the dick though; hated the guy.

"You're good for active duty?"

"Of course, Sir," she replied once again. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good, 'cause I need you in place, ready to bring in the head of BigRedButton™ should they be proved to be at fault 'cause if they are, someone's going down for genocide!"

***

Getting inside BigRedButton™ headquarters was really rather easy. At least, it was really rather easy for a slender brunette with curves in all the right places.

Isabella could not enter in any official capacity though, for as soon as BigRedButton™'s private security got so much of a whiff of the Galactic Authority sniffing around they would have blown the place to high hell, no questions asked.

"I truly am so very sorry," she purred, leaning forwards over the reception desk in a manner that very much accentuated the fact that she was, indeed, a woman, attired in a daringly low-cut dress that gathered around her waist and flowed almost exotically to a point just below her knees. "I simply can't believe I got my interview date wrong. I mean, of all the idiotic things for a woman straight out of secretary school to do..."

Hanging upon the wall behind the desk was a large screen playing a grainy video depicting children of all ages playing with the latest and greatest NukeBord™. The security officer must have noticed Isabella staring at it, which she of course hoped would be the case.

"I shouldn't do this, you know," he said, his eyes transfixed upon the woman's heaving cleavage, "but if you like, I could show you the prototype for the NukeBord™ 2.0. I mean, I'm acting Head of Security, so who's going to stop me?"

"Oh my." She took a step back, placing the flat of her hand atop her breast. "I couldn't ask you to do that, I mean... I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."

"Don't you worry, little lady," he replied with a smile as behind the desk he got to his feet and strode around towards her with the confidence and swagger of a man who knew, beyond all reasonable doubt, that felatio was most definitely on the cards; he had most certainly rested his testicles upon the chin of a woman for enacting deeds far less heroic and dangerous in nature.

He raised his arm, bent at the elbow, and Isabella linked her own arm through it. Then the acting Head of Security set off at a rather brisk pace, but one that she was able to match with ease despite the three-inch heels.

"You're such a wonderful man," said Isabella, coyly, as with a wink to the guard stood beside a heavily armoured door, a wink that the acting Head of Security thought that she did not see, he led her into a large room, entirely white, with a minimal amount of grey, clean-lined furniture. "Big, strong-willed... I do like a man who knows exactly what he wants and will do whatever he needs to do to take it."

"What else do you like, little lady?" he asked, this time adding the most patronising of tones to those two otherwise innocent words.

"Oh you know, the usual things I suppose," she replied, the expression upon her face impassive. "Making sure dinner is ready and on the table by six, ensuring my man's every single need is taken care of..."

Sensing the acting Head of Security's growing state of arousal, sure as he was that he was about to get some, she pivoted so that rather than standing at his side she was directly in front of him and his lazy brown eyes and half-open mouth. She was sure that it would not take much more until his tongue was quite literally hanging at the corner of his mouth but time was short and thus, she had none to waste. Isabella knew she had to wrap this up quickly.

"...but what I really like," she continued, grabbing hold of the man's genitals through his trousers as she squeezed incredibly firmly, "is power. It gets me so... wet."

"Well, erm..." the acting Head of Security fumbled for his words, entirely due to the face that he really rather enjoyed the sensation as Isabella's fingernails dug into his scrotum. "Erm... The, the NukeBord™ 2.0 is, erm... the most powerful model yet!"

"And where is the prototype?" she purred, softly. "You want to make me a happy bunny, don't you?"

She squeezed even tighter and the man's eyes rolled back into his head as he nodded rigorously.

"Mmhmm it's over there," he mumbled and managed to point roughly in the direction of a large set of dull metallic doors.

Isabella smiled and glanced down towards the raygun at the man's hip.

With her grip upon the acting Head of Security's cock and balls as firm and vice-like as ever she easily plucked the raygun from its holster and held it to his left temple. Whether he was aware of any of that she had no idea. She suspected he was enjoying what her right hand was doing far too much and she almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not enough to convince her to do anything other than fire the weapon.

As the former acting Head of Security dropped to the floor she shuddered and hoisted her dress over her head to reveal an outfit far more suited to the task at hand; the tight and figure hugging, incredibly revealing female version of the Galactic Authority uniform.

To finish off the ensemble she clicked the heels of her shoes together sharply and with clunky yet not uncomfortable movements, those shoes transformed into a pair of boots that extended up her shapely legs until they joined seamlessly with her booty shorts.

Several moments later, having cracked the code that opened the dull metallic doors she found herself in an underwhelmingly small room. In fact it was only really large enough for the clear glass podium upon which sat the prototype NukeBord™ 2.0.

It really was a thing of beauty and by far the largest NukeBord™ she had ever seen. Upon it, in all its bold as brass glory, was the bright and shiny BigRedButton™ which when pressed, would set off a reaction larger than that of the first atomic bomb and allow the rider to travel at hitherto unimagined speeds.

That was not why Isabella was there though. She was not even there to find out if there was a possibility that there was something wrong at BigRedButton™, or whether one of their products had been faulty.

No, Isabella was there to put an end to BigRedButton™, and that was exactly what she was going to do. Atomic power was so unstable and therefore it would be quite simple for her to destroy the place, and the pissy little moon upon which it was situated, and simply claim that it was all an accident due to faulty equipment.

That was...

Isabella dropped to the floor as the shot his her at the base of her spine.

The next thing she knew, apart from the fact that she was not dead and therefore whatever had hit her had probably been set to its lowest setting, was that she was handcuffed to a table in a rather swanky office with enormous windows that allowed her to see the quite beautiful landscape of Prometheus, and was sitting opposite an incredibly well dressed man. He even had a pocket square.

"How much will it take?" he asked. Isabella was still incredibly groggy though, and as such she was not sure what the man was talking about.

"For what?"

"How much will it take for you to give your superiors at the Galactic Authority a call, tell them that absolutely nothing at BigRedButton™ is faulty and then work for me as my personal bodyguard?"

"What?" she asked, her eyebrow raised. "You're mad!"

"That's often been said, but everyone has their price and besides, what has the Galactic Authority ever done for you?"

Well that much was true... She had given the Authority ten years of her life. She was appreciated, sure; the medals and commendations were proof of that, but where was the promotion she knew she deserved?

"You know what..?" she asked, finally managing to break the 'cuffs that held her to the bar hidden beneath the table. "I don't think you've got enough money to buy me."

And with that she leapt across the table, planting both feet hard to the man's chest. Clearly he had not been expecting that. In fact, it seemed he had not been expecting any resistance from her at all, given that he was in the room alone with her.

Well he had been alone in the room with her, but that was before her two planted feet had sent him flying, backwards, through the centre pane of that enormous window.

With a shrug she took a seat and accessed the console upon the desk.

"Sir," she said as her commanding officer answered the call. "It's all change, here. How should I proceed?"

"You've found evidence of faulty BigRedButton™s?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "But I did send the CEO through the window."

"I reckon that'll do the job, Watkins," he replied, chuckling. The static accompanying the call made him sound like he was dying. "Blow the shit outta' that place an' come on home. With BigRedButton outta' the way, it's gonna' be a brand new day!"