Barzok, Barzok and Montgomery L.L.C, one of the citadels of legal power on the office-building infested world of Zung. A single, opulent office rests at the top of this monolithic monument to legal bastardry. In this office sat Thaddeus J. Barzok III, B.S., J.D., LL.B, Att. at Law, who perused the Kazzian Times Obituaries for any promising posthumous lawsuits just as his secretary rang in.
"Mr. Barzok?", asked the voice over the static of the intercom.
Barzok sighed and mashed his pudgy thumb into the reply button, "What is it?"
"There is someone to see you sir. A Mr. Solomon J. Pumroy."
"Excellent. Did he sign all the papers and the NDA-835/G?"
"Yessir, he understands his legal obligations."
"Very good. Send him in."
"What is it?" Asked the stout attorney with a sense of dread and fear.
"Oh...nothing. Just got a paper-cut. I'll just get a band-aid from the clos--"
"You'll do no such thing! Page 148, Paragraph J, Line 8 of the Employee Responsibility Form specifically states, I quote, 'No employee (designated the signee of said form (designated ERF-78/T)) of Barzok & Co. (Herein designated provider of life, bringer of doom, unstoppable legal juggernaught) may use any item/s or chemical/s in posession of said legal firm to treat any form of injury, be it laceration, burn, bruise, puncture, circulatory failure, neural collapse, ionic dissasociation or plasma fusion. This legal firm is not responsible for any of the afformentioned wounds and is not liable for any and/or all injuries caused by use of said legal firm's office supplies'"
"Then...what do I do?"
"Send in Mr. Pumroy please. And get back to work."
A few minutes later walks in a tall, lanky and pale figure wearing a black two-piece suit, white shirt and red tie. With brief case in hand, he looked like any other of the billions of Zungian citizens. Barzok leaned back in his plush chair and steepled his hands as he studied the man before him, "Ahhh...Mr. Pumroy, what a pleasure. I've been looking through your...portfolio. May I tell you what I found?"
Pumroy stared straight forward, following the ancient Zungian saying, "Silence implies consent"
Barzok opened a thick folder before him, "Very good. Let's see...Solomon J. Pumroy A.T., J.R., L.S., C.O. and Commander of the Z.S.S. Jury Crusher. Recieved the Ambulance Chaser Award for Frivolous Lawsuits, the Iron Fist for Corporate Bastardry, the Disembodied Hand for Crowd Manipulation, and the Planetary Soul-Sucker Medal for the time the Chicagoans refused to pay your fee and you were forced to use the Jury Crusher's Pro-Bono Purger Cannon.
Pumroy spoke up, "I took all precautions before using it. I can safely vouch that every Chicagoan subjected to the bombardment were former clients unwilling to honor the fee. Anyone else caught in the blast surely wasn't a registered Chicagoan, and as such is not considered in the related body-count report."
"Yes of course. Noted for such acts as succesfully defending the Uber-Mall in Uber-Mall v. League to End Commercial Mutagenic Testing on Harlemia. And, of course, who could forget how you defended the legality of Geenuz's decision to...sodomize, torture, dismember and horribly burn all non-beavers during that poorly planned Orion expidition to Geenuz? How was that done again? Geenuz wouldn't exactly...fully appreciate your presence there."
"I stayed here on Zung, bounced my signal through 200 sattelites to Geenuz's capital."
"Yes...quite a few accomplishments under your belt. Yes, I think your ready for a real job."
Pumroy raised an eyebrow.
"Yes...Our informants gave us something interesting an hour ago. It appears a boy in Hrung has inadvertently caused the death of a Saskatchewan pirate captain with his rubber-ball paddle, triggering a war between Saskatchewa and Pyronos. Undoubtedly they'll use every illegal weapon in their impressive arsenals against one another."
"Nail the boy?"
"Hell no! Nail the rubber-ball paddle making company! I want you to pile so many damned charges of gross negligence on them that they'll have to bankrupt themselves and their employee's families for four generations. Tell them it's a war crime and they'll pay double. Then when your done, take the Jury Crusher, the Litigation, the Victimizer and the Fund Raker out to scout out any of the remaining pirate survivors and subpeona every one of them for waging interstellar war without going through the proper legal channels. Use any force necessary if they don't come to the bargaining table."
"I'll need the 46-T/JK8 forms to use the Mediation Enforcer Array. And the Mercy-Flayer guns and Lible Missiles as well."
"Very well. Sign all the appropriate documents. As well as the ones to enlist the forces of the other ships as well."
Hanging like a dirty snowball in space, the planet Zung let little sunlight penetrate its smoggy atmosphere. But for a brief moment, sunlight streamed in as four Zungian Plaintiff class Attorney ships poked through the dark canopy into space. The ships, shaped as gigantic, 500-story skyscrapers screeched through space, powered by the wailing, tortured cries of the souls of clients and non-clients who paid the ultimate price for requesting Zung's services. With various weapons of destruction and coercions poking out of the windows, the four ships, led by the Jury Crusher prepared to sue the pants off of some Hrungian factory and bring some pirates to soul-sucking justice.