Bucephalus's gas piston driven steel hooves beat out a steady, relentless rhythm as she crossed the rough, rubble strewn wasteland beyond the settlement.
“Switch on the electromagnetic force field so that the foolish Earthlings cannot detect our approach with their primitive instruments, Eight-one-seven-three,” said the senior Ickle Green Man.
A muscular, heavily tattooed man with a scarred upper lip and funny looking teeth walked into Hickenbottom's Book Bonanza, a cluttered second hand book shop that also sold old paintings and prints.