Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

TRIPPENWONK MINUS EIGHT DAYS: "Can you sustain a force field which stands entirely OUTSIDE your own body? I mean to say, with you not inside it? Unless you can do that, I can't test my flame against it without being afraid of hurting you." The Strum siblings, a.k.a. the Fantastic Two, were improvising practice exercises for their new super-powers.

Jimmy, the Unfindable Man, replied, "Let's see. Maybe if I start by emitting the force field around myself, I can then step out of it." The first two times he attempted this, his energy shield merely moved with him. The next three times, it vanished like a soap bubble as soon as any part of his body went outside it. Trying four more times, he was able to move entirely out of the unseen sphere, but it never endured long after he left it. The first of these times, it failed after about five seconds; then ten seconds; then thirteen seconds; finally eighteen seconds.

"All right," said Sushi, the Woman Torch, "try it the other way around: see if you can create it entirely outside your body in the first place. If that works, try entering it from outside." This approach worked better. He needed to try eleven times before he could make a force field arise outside himself with stability. This much accomplished, he set out to step inside it while it remained stable. This process gave him a sense of how to relax the field a little, so it WOULD let him pass through.

"All right, good enough with entering and exiting for now. Since I can at least create it off to one side, let's get to the trial by fire." Jimmy raised his barrier around a pile of dry firewood. Now that the sphere of power (which was invisible, but HE could sense exactly where it was) had kept its integrity, Jimmy slowly walked farther away from it. All of this was occurring on rocky ground, so that Sushi would not start a wildfire.

His sister waited until Jimmy was two hundred feet off, then directed a thin stream of flame at his energy screen. At this level of heat, five seconds produced no result. Another five seconds at higher heat, still no effect. Only when Sushi attacked the force field with her highest possible temperature, and kept it up for over ninety seconds, did the firewood smolder and eventually ignite. The fact that it DIDN'T burn out within seconds confirmed that the invisible sphere, which had been airtight, had not merely let heat pass through, but had vanished altogether.

Shutting off her flame, Sushi walked over to her younger brother. "I think this means that heat won't penetrate until your shield fails completely. We already know that air doesn't pass through if you're completely enclosed. So if you had to run through some place that was burning, you would have at least half a minute of immunity before you were in danger. You're like a hamster crossing a living room inside an anti-cat globe."

"All right, Sis, what do you suggest we try next?"

Sushi did a facepalm, then smiled. "What we should have done sooner! You've already shown that you can form a two-dimensional wall with your energy. We can just stand side by side; you project your wall out in front of us, and I shoot fire at it with no hazard at all to you."

"Okay. Then let's walk up that slope over there; that way, you can be shooting at a downward angle, and we'll know that your flame can't keep traveling far enough to find things it would ignite."

Sushi hugged him. "Good thinking. I guess little brothers are good for something."

"Occasionally." Jimmy picked her up like a feather, and carried her toward the chosen spot. The very act of carrying Sushi gave him another thought. "Remember how Creed used to tell Benton anecdotes from history? Creed once described how ancient sailors, if they needed to portage one of their sailboats over a stretch of land, would use log rollers, like the boat was moving along a conveyor belt. I'll bet I could make something like a conveyor out of my shield-force, to move massive objects from place to place."

"Keep on thinking things, Jimmy. Any new application we can find for our new powers might make a difference."
 
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On "Terra," at the temporary Nigerian headquarters of the Brickhawks, Conn Johnstantine and Katuva the Sky Lioness joined local hospital technicians in renewed study of a sedated Willy Bastion. They were trying to think whether there was anything they hadn't tried yet.

Richard Berhanu, The Javelin, was present. He was not a medical professional, but throughout his hero career he had worked in various ways with physicians and all manner of scientists. Abruptly he said, "We haven't seen clear signs of magic OR technology causing the negative change in Willy. But what if something is just plain disguised?"

"Go on," Katuva urged.

"All of us know of nannites and microchips. We envision them as resembling clanky robots, only smaller. What if one of those was injected into Sha-Na-Na, DISGUISED as one of his own cells? Various disease organisms will shelter themselves inside a sort of sheath or capsule."

One of the medical technicians, a lady named Melanie Sarpong who was known to be sweet on The Javelin, entered the discussion. "If this is what they did, there are three disguises our enemies might select. The microchip could be disguised as a brain cell-- a cell in the spinal cord would count as that; as a bone cell on the inside surface of the skull, or as a blood cell which passes through the brain many times each day."

Javelin smiled at Melanie. "The device would have to be still present inside Willy's body, still reinforcing the change in personality. If not so, some part of our efforts to date would already have cured Willy."

Melanie smiled back. "That sounds like a lead to follow."

The omniscient narrator smiled, because The Javelin's idea, acted upon by (sure, I'll say it) his future wife Melanie, would in fact lead to the restoration of Captain Sha-Na-Na's true personality.

But Carly Shedd coming to Africa was not for nothing. Her meetings with Willy, both as Willy and as Sha-Na-Na, would help the split-personality hero to understand himself better, which in turn would give him a chance of being able to detect and resist any future attempts to interfere with his personality.
 
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Latest Summary

Like a sidebar, an additional Earth was introduced. The only notable heroes depicted there were versions of Dick Tracy and the Green Lantern John Stewart, coping with a corrupt city government.

On Planet Chimpanzia, we met Lucasta, the sister of the murdered diplomat Proconsul. The Lazytaxie Face Twister Fooldemall, who killed Proconsul, is posing as him on Planet Directvideo (Princess Vixen's native world); but Lucasta has uncovered the first clue that what seems to be her brother, isn't. My version of Jedi Master Plo Koon will soon be investigating this.

On Seedubb Earth, Groan Starr began looking for ways he could be more effective as a hero. Local heroes were glad to help. Meanwhile, on HIS native world of Srirachiss., Groan's mother Jazzica (parody of Jessica in the Dune series), grew anxious to search for him and Trala-Lalia, to find out if they're all right. The former villain Count Havabeer will accompany Jazzica on the quest.

LOTS of stuff happened on "Urth":

The Justified League was busy looking for violations of the international agreements concerning use of the new Tachyon Loop technology. At the same time, a free-lance hero made his debut in the story: Squire Vindictive, my counterpart of the leading character in "V Is For Vendetta." The Squire was hunting for some James-Bond-movie-type covert villains who seem to have no connection with the super-powered Gang of Naughty Persons.

The contrite ex-girlfriend Ruby Spruce continued trying to get back together with Greg Sutter, a.k.a. Vigilant Cowboy, whom she deserted many years ago. Greg was inclined to take her back, but was realistically cautious. League members Superhottie and Aluminum Banshee were highly sympathetic to Ruby. Simultaneously, Aluminum Banshee (or "Lumina") tentatively began a romance with Russian-born superhero Tapper Cossack; he is perfect for her, because he finds her attractive exactly as she is. What's more, he is immune to being harmed by sound waves, thus could never be accidentally hurt by her voice.

Besides drama surrounding superheroes, Greg's ranch was visited by my version of a REAL hero. I refer to Doctor Temple Grandin, a woman who grew up autistic, and contributed enormously to the understanding and treatment of autism in the real world. I strongly recommend Doctor Grandin's books to anyone who loves an autistic person.

My versions of Solomon Grundy and Mirror Master were revealed to the readers as having a hideout, shared with other villains, in Southeast Asia. When Superhottie, Atomic Scalp and a Hawaiian superhero called Howie Maui battled a small army of Asian terrorists in Nepal, "Mirror Merchant" teleported to the scene. Unnoticed by the heroes, Mirror Merchant stole one of the red-sunlight projectors by which the terrorists had come close to defeating Superhottie.

On Punksteema, my world which spoofs the worlds of the Gunslinger in Stephen King's Dark Tower novels, Ronald of Goliad was joined by Bamulican cavalry officer John Telbroc for the next stage of his mission. In the pseudo-Asian country of Hukshem, Ronald was introduced to a wealthy business family, whose daughter Razibi wished to become a Smoke Maiden ( =female gunslinger). Ronald and John gave her some preliminary training.

In my "Bubblewrap Five" scenario, the sorely-wronged Corin Webber, having taken full mental control of the Shadything ship he was plugged into, was out to terrorize the Mintcandybarri. My version of Hera Syndulia from "Star Wars Rebels, and my version of "The Child," were anxious to find out what was going on. My version of Zack Allen was willing to cooperate with them.

Twerpseid gave "another chance" to Trippenwonk, who had failed in his part of the attempt to conquer Senphatori. (That is the planet which has lately offered help to the people of Urth, to achieve interstellar flight by means of "The Tachyon Loop.") My version of Desaad in DC comics briefed his colleague: the assignment was to conquer an Earth with NO superheroes (not the one with a Dick Tracy counterpart). But new superheroes DID begin appearing on this Earth, including versions of Iron Man and She-Hulk. Also featured were versions of Susan and Johnny Storm, but with each one having the other one's powers.

The colonists on Planet Latterdawn continued improving their defenses against that planet's giant army ants. Another colony planet, called Freesoil, came under attack by the Creepycrawlids (think Heinlein's novel "Starship Troopers"); but Dark Headgear and his new gang, of all people, saved them.

Arriving on my version of Asgard, Yoga-Rug broke the spell that was causing nightmares for my version of Odin. And on "Terra," my SECOND version of a reformed Harley Quinn planned to perform psychotherapy for Captain Sha-Na-Na, once the Captain was released from the mental tampering which had robbed him of his noble qualities.
 
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In the nation of Hukshem, on Planet Punksteema, Sir Ronald of Goliad and the Bamulican cavalry officer John Telbroc still were welcome guests in the home of the well-to-do Pril family, whose daughter Razibi wished to become a Smoke Maiden. This, with the approval of her parents and her fiance, since the female order being CALLED "Maidens" did not mean she would have to change her plans for marriage and family. Neither the Smoke Maidens nor the Towermen had ever been strictly required to lead lives of solitary wandering. Sir Ronald had been leading such a life, because the death of his friend Sir Wyatt Hickok had left him the only living gunslinger-knight on the southern continent.

Inquiries by telegraph, supplemented by horse couriers, had reached Missus Jillian Shard, the semi-retired Smoke Maiden who was personally known to Captain Telbroc. The Hussar officer had described Razibi Pril as a prime candidate to help revitalize the sisterhood of lady gunslingers. Jillian sent back word that, when they could get away from their bustling farm, and if the Prils would cover travel costs, she and her husband Howard Shard would come north to Hukshem with their children. Then they would see about Jillian training Razibi. Jillian added the information that she had not lost her hero-power, the same as Ronald's power, to injure weapon-resistant monsters with ordinary weapons.

Over breakfast on the morning after hearing from Jillian, D'Vargut Pril pointed to Razibi's highly intelligent ten-year-old brother and announced: "Sir Ronald, my boy D'Kovo has been keeping something to himself; but now that he has watched you and John instructing Razibi, he wishes to speak about it. Son, you may begin."

"Thank you, Father. And Mother, I thank you for the years you spent helping me to overcome the dread.

"Friend Ronald of Goliad, when I was four years old, a large band of robbers from the north attacked our community. They were driven off, but not without much loss of life. Ch'Bindar, my elder second cousin on my mother's side, was killed by pistol shots as he shielded me with his body...."

Razibi interjected, "For that reason, the first son I will bear is to be named Ch'Bindar. He was a most noble soul. If he had lived, he would have married Aunt Yozidi, my father's youngest sister and thus no blood relation to Ch'Bindar."

"As my sister says. Father and some of his men reached the spot too late to save our cousin, but with their muskets they slew the murderer and one other bandit who was nearby. All of the shots fired still ring in my memory, and I still dream sometimes of the scattered blood.

"Sir Towerman, even a ten-year-old can understand that firearms are neither good nor evil. Guns killed Ch'Bindar, but guns also justly punished his murderer. They are exactly as good or evil as the person who carries them. But I myself can't get over the fear of them. To be clear, I might someday quit being afraid of their noise, but I can't stand the thought of using one myself. That was why I stayed away when you first allowed Razibi to try firing one of your pistols."

Ronald gazed at D'Kovo the way he would gaze at a grown man who deserved respect. "I don't know how much you know about the Order of Sir Edgar--" (another name for the Towermen) "--but it was founded long before there WERE any guns in our world. The first Towermen were all archers as well as swordsmen and pikemen. Do you use a bow?"

"Yes, sir. A pull-bow, not a crossbow like yours. I have taken part in hunting wolves which raided our flocks."

"Then you already have something of a warrior foundation. Arrows can still be effective, even in our time. I am proficient with pull-bows as well as crossbows. While I'm here, I can assess your archery skill. And I've noticed your interest when I've spoken about the spiritual discipline of the gunslinger fellowships. If God wills it, you could become a Towerman even without using a gun."

"That is exactly what my little brother desires," Razibi put in.

John Telbroc rapped Roland on the shoulder. "In case you didn't already know, apprenticeships are very common occurrences among the Loi-Hukshem. Not only do they give young lads a start for a profitable career; they also reduce rivalries among brothers within any mercantile family, and they open up new possibilities for the apprentices to find wives when they reach manhood."

Ronald looked at his friend, then at D'Kovo, then at D'Vargut, and finally at D'Vargut's wife. "Mistress Shinzil, do you wish for me to accept your son as an apprentice? Even though, in my case, it would require him to travel with me into far-off lands, and most likely into sore peril?"

"Yes, worthy guest. My husband and I would never COMPEL D'Kovo to journey far away from home. But although he loves his family, he longs to defeat his fears once and for all, so he may advance to confident manhood; and we know that cultivating new heroes is at the very heart of your own mission."

"We know from the Hussar Captain that when you speak truth, all hearers instantly know it to be truth," said D'Vargut. "Thus, for us to approve of our son's idea-- and for us to contribute largely to your ongoing expenses-- you need only say that, if becoming D'Kovo's preceptor, you will care for him as if he were your own son."

Ronald nodded. "I can see in D'Kovo the honorable heart you have nurtured in him; and yes, it is absolutely crucial that there should be new Towermen, whatever their nation and whatever their armament. Given mutually acceptable terms, I shall take your son as my apprentice, and I shall treat him as if he were an immensely satisfactory son to me."
 
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As Timekall of Hallpasscard saw from afar, Fuss Master Plow Korn, who had introduced himself to the Spacebullion people, then took his personal ship to Planet Chimpanzia. President Sportycus of Chimpanzia welcomed him warmly; they enjoyed lengthy discussion of the Fuss disciplines, and of recent events in this solar system. From the ape's viewpoint, the tusk-faced Plow Korn was not much stranger-looking than humans were.

Only after Sportycus brought up the subject of diplomatic relatiolns with their neighboring planet, did Plow Korn have a Fuss intuition-- somewhat like the "Shatterplace" insights experienced by Moose Windchime, the man who had rescued the ex-criminal Melodica. "Mister President, has anything unusual happened lately in the course of your diplomatic activity? I mean, besides any disturbance arising from your human neighbors nearly getting exterminated by the former Spacebullion regime under Bob Snooze?"

"Well, a small thing: not illegal or hazardous, but unexpected. Minister Proconsul suddenly was in a hurry to expedite his next visit to Directvideo. As I say, nothing wrong about that, only it arose more suddenly than is usual in our government."

"Was there anything else unusual about this? Even a tiny detail which you wouldn't consider important?"

"Why, yes. Just yesterday, Proconsul's sister Lucasta went to speak with Inspector Antilacor, who is highly placed in our law-enforcement structure. Lucasta had a bad feeling, because Proconsul had left Chimpanzia WITHOUT bringing along a certain special keepsake of his deceased wife. Also, Lucasta and Proconsul's friend Drusena had met Proconsul on Directvideo, and related how he seemed oddly agitated."

This detail suddenly clicked with the foreboding which Plow Korn had felt.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Less than two Chimpanzian days later (those were an hour longer than Earth days), Duke Diskoduck of Planet Directvideo was once again drinking at his favorite wine shop with-- what he believed to be his ape friend Proconsul, talking further about whether the Directvidean government might be in need of hope and change. Suddenly, three royal guardsmen entered the tavern and approached the two.

"Minister Proconsul, please rest your empty hands on the table and hold still," said the ranking man of the three. "I'm serious! Place your hands in clear sight, and don't move."

"What is the meaning of this!" barked Proconsul.... but suddenly his voice was different from the good-natured Chimpanzian who had long been King Lowbrain's friend. "I have diplomatic immunity from arrest!"

A new voice, not even simian, let alone human, retorted, "You mean that the respectable Chimpanzian WHOM YOU ASSASSINATED had lawful immunity. My fellowship knows all about shape-changers. I command you now to show your true form!" It was Plow Korn, coming up alongside the guardsmen, who spoke these words, and with him were the three Chimpanzians who had reported their misgivings.

Without warning, the seeming Proconsul shrank in height by nine inches, dropped to the floor and rolled, then came up looking human-- and with a gun in his hand. But Plow Korn telekinetically immobilized the gun's trigger.

"You can't shoot, assassin. But you can AND WILL talk, to Inspector Antilacor here."
 
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In the Africa of "Terra," Willy Bastion was finally rid of the disguised microchip which had been circulating in his blood, refreshing its personality-ruining input every time it passed through his brain. But the removal of the infernal device had not relieved him of the agonizing shame he felt for not even having tried to resist what his heart HAD KNOWN was a bad influence.

"Whenever there wasn't something actively scaring me, or actively tempting me to do something bad," Willy told his new psychotherapist, "I at least kind-of remembered being good. But the next minute, I would go back to wanting everybody to SAY that I was good, without my ever having to work at BEING good for real. Then I would feel guilty; but this never lasted long, before I went back to believing that anything wrong with me had to be someone else's fault."

"That's unfortunate, but not so unusual," replied the former Carly Whiz, now Carly Shedd. "When I was your age-- and DON'T ask how long ago that was!-- I had some similar sensations. In your case, you were an orphan. Kids who lose their parents often feel if the loss could somehow be their fault. That's nonsense; but the stupidest feelings can pretend that they AREN'T nonsense. Of course, by now you know all the way to your guts that you DIDN'T cause your parents to die; but your mind still retains memory of having felt guilty for no good reason.

"The thing that was injected into you was SERIOUSLY clever in design. It picked up your memory of mistakenly feeling guilty over your parents, and blended this with your new flood of wrong desires, till you thought that REAL pangs of conscience over actual faults were only false guilt."

Their talk went on in this vein for longer than the traditional fifty-five minutes. When it was done, Willy rose to his feet.

"Doctor Shedd, you're a great shrink. You know I haven't changed to Sha-Na-Na since Mister Johnstantine went to work on me."

Carly nodded. "Because you don't want to act unworthy of your superhero identity anymore."

"That's right, Doctor. But now...... WHO PUT THE BOP IN THE BOP TEE-BOP TEE-BOP!!!" And there stood Captain Sha-Na-Na. He opened the wide window of the therapy room, ready to take flight.

Carly smiled: nothing like the cynical smiles of her criminal past. "Going to look for a rematch with Red Slaughter?"

"You bet, Doctor, and HE'S going to lose!"

 
Back on "Urth," an airliner took off from Stockholm, bound for Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia. Two of the passengers were hiding in plain sight, for different reasons. One of the two men was the lone-eagle hero Squire Vindictive, born Schuyler Vinson.

It was a slight risk for Schuyler, letting his disfigured face be seen in public; but he could scarcely board an airliner showing only his moustache-face mask. He realized that his enemies-- who used such names as The Raincoat Corporation and The Boardroom of Owls-- did not yet realize how active he was. Even if they knew he had a vendetta against them for experimenting on him, those who knew his story would not expect him to show his actual face at an airport. And most of their operatives DIDN'T know a thing about him; he was one of their network's guiltiest secrets. Therefore, he had bought his ticket openly, under his own name. It wasn't as if no one had ever seen people with bad scars before.

One pleasant surprise occurred in the concourse. A little Swedish girl, maybe six years old, tugged on her mother's hand for a pause, then stepped fearlessly toward Squire Vindictive. "Did you get burned?" she asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Does it still hurt?"

"Now and then. Thank you for asking."

"You can get some ointment."

"That's a good idea, I'll give it a try."

Squire Vindictive came away from this encounter with a bit more hope that he MIGHT be able to become part of normal society again some day. In the meantime, there was quarry to pursue.

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

Raoul Dumontmartre, the top cyber-thief in this world's France, found himself obliged to lie low. The Justified League usually had bigger fish to fry than mere non-violent thieves, but they DID employ some highly-skilled network experts, and these had been getting uncomfortably close to unmasking Raoul. So he was going to ground for the rest of 2020; specifically, he was going to hide out in the Malaysian house owned by Monsieur Weezul, a crook who was quite useful to The Boardroom of Owls.

As for that, the "Boardroom" would probably have changed its name again by the time Raoul felt safe returning to France.

When Raoul disembarked in Kuala Lumpur, it was evening there, and he didn't notice his "tail." By the time he noticed Schuyler, Schuyler had put on his Squire Vindictive mask-- and was whipping a plastic-cord garrotte around the cyber-thief's throat. No knives on board commercial flights, naturellement.

"Beau soir, monsieur le cochon. You will come with me without resisting or crying out. We're going to MY safe house instead of yours, and at a certain point you will be blindfolded until I have you in a windowless room. There you will go online using my shadow account, and follow my further instructions."

Half an hour later, Monsieur Dumontmartre was seated before a laptop of uncertain manufacture, visiting the public website of The Justified League. He left a message in their Guestbook, saying that he was guilty of dozens of counts of grand larceny and industrial espionage, and that if they would promise him protection against assassination by his own fellow criminals, he would present them with his detailed confession.

Schuyler decided that, since he was upping the ante, it was time to make himself known--sort of. Accordingly, he commanded Raoul to finish by saying he had been "persuaded to confess" by a man called Squire Vindictive.

Some of Moistureman's warriors-- highborn Splatlanteans who could breathe air-- were patrolling the Indian Ocean at this time. When their King passed word to them, they came ashore in Malaysia; followed a set of clues which Squire Vindictive gave them, and found the cyber-thief barely two minutes after Squire Vindictive disappeared into the streets. Hiring a boat from unsuspecting civilians, they took the no-longer-smug master criminal out to sea, to wait until Superdude or other League members could come to fetch him.
 
Launching from the Bubblewrap Five main fighter bay, in a Skyfury with special harness for a small passenger, Snack Salad and Gross-Goo set forth on their first search for clues. The fighter craft did not have built-in warp capability, but could use the stationary hyper-gates. They went through the station's own gate, and Snack set his course for a star system where local space pilots had reported unidentified movements by-- something.

Their first hour in flight was occupied with talk about the Bubblewrap Mission's history, especially the exploits of Jack Playfair, the first station commander. Twenty minutes before they were due to re-enter normal space, the young Toofah-Roffian raised an unexpected question.

"How do you feel about Noherra?"

Snack blinked. "Um, do you mean, like, you mean like a man feels about a woman?"

The green face displayed an unusually wide grin. "What else would I mean?"

Snack shook his head. "Even human women look right through me. And there's only a few alien races that both find humans attractive, and ARE considered attractive BY humans. Don't get me started on Ambassador J'Unkycar! Anyway, Earthlyforce regulations frown hard on romances between humans and non-humans. Too many occasions for hurt feelings and repercussions, even if both parties begin with good intentions."

"Sure, Noherra isn't strictly human, but she's profoundly human-OID. She even has the same shape of nose as humans have. And your Bruce Loxbagel married Deelyte of the Dusky Circle, a Mintcandybarri."

"Obviously I know that, but before they even grew close emotionally, Deelyte underwent a unique procedure which adjusted her genetically. She did this precisely so that she would be able to have children with a human male. She didn't know yet whom she would marry, but she believed it was her destiny to take a human husband, as a gesture of atonement for her people having waged war against a weaker species."

"Very well, I understand about people being able or unable to have children together. But obviously Noherra never told you something. Where we come from, Tryyurlucks and humans ARE considered close enough genetically that they CAN produce healthy children together, provided they have access to the medical science involved."

Snack fell silent for ten or twelve minutes, focusing on his navigation. Only after they emerged into the solar system of interest, and were assured of no flight hazards, did Snack tell his little friend, "Well, Noherra HASN'T mentioned this capability to me, even though she has admitted to her lost love being human. So I'm sure not going to make any moves her way. She's in mourning, and I respect that."

"But if Noherra eventually was done grieving and showed interest in you, and if your chain of command was favorably swayed by learning that you and she COULD have children together, what would you do?"

Snack smiled humorlessly. "I would say, 'This is unexplored space; women usually sentence me to Friend Zone five seconds after they first lay eyes on me'."

"You still haven't said plainly whether YOU feel attracted to NOHERRA."

Humorlessly smiling became frowning. "I'll say exactly what women say about me: she's a Nice Person."

"Fair enough. But I know she likes you a lot, AT LEAST 'as a person'."

They found no clues in this star system, but Snack was left with food for thought.
 
On Planet Toofah-Roff, in the green-people town where several relatives of Yoga-Rug lived, Master Moose Windchime was spending a day testing the Fuss talents of eight younglings. This afforded Melodica, the ex-criminal, an opportunity to converse frankly with the bird-like Zubdookree. Armored human soldiers, here as a garrison with the consent of the natives, passed by the infirmary now and then, but none of them took any interest in the girl talk which was in progress.

"Warrior Zubdookree, does, well, no offense, but does your species lay eggs?"

"No offense taken, my friend. It happens that we give live birth. Our procreation IS like that of birds, however, insofar as our babies are born already able to eat solid food. This makes child-raising easier for us, as both mothers and fathers can equally feed the young from the start."

"I see. But now I wonder: does this area of equality cause your females NOT to be respected if they desire ONLY to be domestic and raise children in, um, the nest?"

Zubdookree's race had beaks, but their beaks were articulated in such a way that they could smile, which the Fuss adept now did. "Not at all. The majority of our females do prefer to raise families."

Melodica looked sad for a moment. "Then did you never get to be a mother? Because of your Fuss up-sider career?

Zubdookree's long, narrow hand (her species had SIX limbs, counting their wings as limbs) caressed the human woman's hair. "Don't feel bad for me, Melodica. I'm not only a mother, I'm also a grandmother. Our average life expectancy is about fifteen standard years longer than yours, and our children reach physical adulthood in about eleven standard years, not counting their time inside the egg. I'm now forty-eight years old; I only began formal Fuss training six years ago, after my youngest grandson became fully able to support himself. My husband Vareeklon and I became patty-cake-awans together, to none other than Master Windchime, just soon enough that we could join the fight against Emperor Porkandbeen.

"My true love died on Planet Randomrock, leading a charge to flank the Imperial troopers. He left a noble example for our descendants; now he, and the heroic Master Ekspen-Dubbul, and the gallant Acne-Skin, gaze down upon us, and are pleased to see us keep on trying and striving forwards."

"Will you ever love again?"

"Vareeklon would not begrudge it to me. It's possible-- if I live to get back to our home planet. Those who imagine that we have to be celibate have heads filled with feathers. Just look at that fellow Master Yoga-Rug talks about, Groan Starr: he's barely begun a promising up-side career, and he's already married.

"But what you really want to ask me is whether Master Windchime has ever been in love. The answer is, he has LIKED several human or near-human women; but it never worked out, because they would have obligations on one world when he had obligations on some other world. This is at least one of the reasons why he took up the fashion of music known as 'blues'."

When she finally had her opening to get a word in, Melodica moved closer to her alien friend and half-whispered, "So what if Master Windchime had the love of a woman who could crew a ship for him, read three-dee star charts, manage a spacesuit, and fire a laser accurately, AND who wanted nothing so much as to be with him WHEREVER he went?"

Zubdookree's beak smiled afresh. "Given the pure sincerity I sense in your heart, which you can be certain HE also senses, I believe your chances with Moose are better than even."
 
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Change of scene

On the "backwater Earth" which had an African-American Green Flashlight as its only superhero, this Green Flashlight, John Stewmeat, received a sudden message from Planet Wawa, home base of the Flashlight Corps. The Janitors of the Universe advised him about the OTHER short-on-heroes Earth which was in jeopardy from the forces of Planet Awkwardlisp.

They downloaded to John's Flashlight fixture the way to reach the imperiled world, and whom to look up when he arrived. Telling only Trace Dickey where he was going, John took off in a way-faster-than-light hurry. Halfway to his destination, he had the pleasant surprise of being joined by a second Green Flashlight: Grakabikrak, a four-foot-long lobster-like being, a female of the sapient race on Planet Kudkubkiztik, able to breathe both air and water. Mere minutes later, a third Flashlight took station on them: vaguely humanoid, thick and squatty, with no neck to turn his head, but having eyes in the back of his head as compensation, so that his total field of vision was greater than that of a human. He was Poradsimu, from Planet Falfooz.

Before they were within fifty system-widths of their destination solar system, John and Grakabikrak went into stealth mode, willing their Flashlights to make him undetectable. He knew that the fiendish Twerpseid had extensive surveillance assets watching at least eight galaxies, and the less Twerpseid knew about help coming for this Earth's people, the better.

Finding Stony Stork's mansion --it was night in America when they arrived-- John deactivated security systems and let them all in. "Mister Stork! If you're here, wake up! This is the infantry to the rescue!" (John Stewmeat's Earth had fashioned the saying to mention infantry instead of cavalry.) "Don't be alarmed if we look strange, we're on your side!"

The billionaire genius, who had only made it to bed less than an hour ago, drowsily took in the sight of the crustacean extraterrestrial as if she were the most ordinary thing to see in his living room at night. "Waking me up like this, you three HAD BETTER be more superheroes."

Using the Green Flashlight ability to know all languages at need, Grakabikrak told Stony, "That's exactly what we are! Our galactic organization assigned us to come defend you against the invasion. We have considerable power to fight against your enemies, and we know much about their capabilities."

Stony scratched his jaw. "This must be why the kookaburra didn't spell out for me the EXACT places and times of all the coming landings. He knew that you whoever-you-are's would be here before D-Day, to improve our preparations."

"Accurate enough," said Poradsimu; "only, what's a kookaburra?"

"It's a kind of bird, which exists on most versions of Earth," John answered.

Stony's jaw sank. "VERSIONS of Earth?"

"More about that later," said John. "We need to talk about the state of your defense plans. Wherever you're the weakest, the three of us can plug the gaps. Your Earth and mine both have Pacific Oceans; Grakabikrak here can loiter underwater in your Pacific, ready to surface and counterattack whatever intruder force is nearest to her..."
 
Since it would be day in Asia right now, Stony Stork neither went back to bed himself, nor saw to the comfort of his new guests, before making an encrypted phone call to Golden Rakshasa in India (at least this Earth did have scrambled voice comms). He told her that additional superheroes had just become available, and that she should notify Flying Elephant and Lone Monkey. They would need to revise their deployment plans in a hurry-- after Stony and the three Flashlights had gotten some sleep.

"I don't need to be underwater to sleep," Grakabikrak assured her host.

As soon as the now twelve superheroes were able to do another conference call, as secure as they could make it, they went straight to discussing who would take position where.

"We know from the magical kookaburra," Stony began, "that New Delhi will be assaulted first, followed by Cairo and Stalingrad. Ostralia comes last; and if we hurt the Awkwardlispians badly enough, they may give it up and leave before Ostralia is ever touched. But that in-between is the problem. I don't think the magic bird meant to be incomplete out of some sense of dramatic mystery; I think he simply ISN'T all-knowing. But we can't leave the known targets under-defended for the sake of guesswork about other beachheads.

"Brigadier Flagstaff informs me that the U.S. Air Force is moving fighter squadrons to India to assist in their defense. But in case these aliens are watching us, the Pentagon is trying not to make it obvious that we know India is a target. The Air Force is doing 'goodwill flyovers' in places like Turkey and the Philippines, and some planes will stay in those locations indefinitely. In fact, the ones laying over in Turkey will be close enough to Egypt that they can help Cairo. But at least three American fighter squadrons will be stationed in India before the expected time of enemy landings."

"Rakshasa and I obviously need to stay in our own country until we are killed, or until that wave is beaten back," said Flying Elephant.

"That's only right," Whiskey Dallas responded. The samurai Lone Monkey offered to come over to India and join them, since his own country was not on the first-wave target list. World War Two being far in the past, the two Indians gladly accepted his offer.

"I'll also come to New Delhi," said Stony. "If the enemy has any intelligence on our defensive ability, they already know that I'm a major weapons developer; so, as soon as we put up resistance, it could make them suspicious if my technology WEREN'T brought to bear in this crisis. Three anti-aircraft laser mounts will come to India with me, plus five of my latest anti-aircraft missile launchers. And I'm having an armor suit like my own built fast for one of my retired-military consultants, Roby Dobie. The haste means his suit will be less sophisticated, but it will mount more offensive armament. Hence, one more superhero defending New Delhi. Roby wants to be called Fighting Machine."

"What about our own space aliens?" asked the side-of-good undead woman Erica Preston, referring to the three Green Flashlights. The actual phrase "Green Flashlight" had not been uttered, in any language, during any of their communications.

"We're trying to strike a balance between not showing our hand too soon, and not failing to USE our strong card. The human one will be in Cairo, spearpointing the defense there. The one with pincers will be on standby near Tahiti, and the third one will be on top cover."

"Not in Stalingrad?" asked Sushi Strum.

"The Soviet government stands by its official position. Rather, its two mutually exclusive positions. The great Russian people need no help from decadent capitalistic nations to defeat the extraterrestrial fascists; at the same time, they know that any visitors from space will be nothing but impressed and approving when they see what gifts the glorious vision of Iosif Stalin and Lavrentiy Beriya gave to mankind. As for that, China has the same attitude, officially; but they're not a first-wave target, and they'll change their tune once Russia gets hit."

"So Russia is on its own?" asked Erica.

Jasmine, currently in her She-Hunk form because she preferred being She-Hunk, spoke up: "The nastiness of my old self will finally serve a good purpose here. As Old Jasmine, I got into the news talking hate against America, because American men supposedly were the world's worst oppressors of women. At the time, I had no idea how this would later serve a GOOD purpose. As soon as this conference is over, I'll take advantage of the public not yet knowing who She-Hunk is: I'll go to a Soviet consulate as Old Jasmine, and ask permission to visit Stalingrad, ostensibly so I can give interviews about how disgusting American men are. And yes, I'll even lambast Mister Stork."

"For my part," said Stony, "if anyone asks me about what Jasmine will be saying in Stalingrad, I'll pretend to be scornful of her."

"There's a fail-safe here," She-Hunk added. "It's all too possible that, while I'm being Old Jasmine , I'll revert to my abrasive personality, and actually NOT WANT to help anyone male. But once hostile extraterrestrials attack Russia while I'm there, I'll still change to my super-form out of sheer self-preservation."
 
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Around the same time as Iron Gent conferred with his fellow heroes, a stranger appeared in the southern Chinese city of Guangdong. He would not have been a stranger to heroes on "Terra;" he was the good wizard Mazash, who had given the orphan Willy Bastion the ability to become Captain Sha-Na-Na. He was about to give a similar gift to a young Chinese couple who did not yet have children.

Kam Sung-Wu was a teacher of Tiger and Leopard kung-fu; his wife Bao Yi-Sha (Chinese wives keep their own surnames) taught Tai Chi Chuan. Mazash appeared to them privately, as they were beginning a routine morning workout at their gym. He made himself look Chinese, in order to be less upsetting to them, and he addressed them in perfect Canton Chinese, with his palms pressed together.

"Tranquility to you both, Master Kam and Mistress Bao. I am called Mazash, and you may consider me to be an Immortal of the Western Heavens. I am aware of your good character, and of your loyalty to your nation; so I have come to warn you of a great peril which hangs over China."

The wife drew herself upright. "Do you mean the bloodthirsty Americans and British?" Her husband added his own question instantly: "Or do you mean the sneaky, envious Hindus, who flatter themselves that their culture is as good as ours?"

"Neither. In fact, the Americans, the Indians, and many others on Earth are under the same threat as you are. Hostile beings from another solar system will soon attack the Earth, using weapons more advanced than any known on Earth. But if certain human heroes are gifted with special abilities-- chi powers, if you will --they can do much to equalize the fight. I have the ability to grant such powers to two persons; and you two are chosen for this duty. Besides your brave spirits, the fact that you live in Guangdong qualifies you-- because Guangdong will be the first Chinese city to be assailed."

"Will our city also be the first place ON EARTH to be assailed?" asked Master Kam.

"No. As a matter of act, far from India being to blame for the danger, NEW DELHI will be the first place where the alien aggressors will strike. Following that will be Cairo and Stalingrad. I happen to know that the Indian government has already tried to warn Beijing of what is coming, but your Party refuses to believe it. When the invasion comes, and the first landing will be in a matter of days now, the world will know that the warning was true. If you survive, remember what this indicates about the supposed infallibility of your Party."

"If we ARE to survive and learn lessons, then we need the powers you offer," said Mistress Bao, who intuitively sensed that Mazash was genuine. 'What are they?"

"First, in keeping with your own country's motion pictures, each of you will become able to make kilometer-long leaps, horizontally or vertically, without getting hurt upon landing. Additional powers will suit your individual kung-fu styles. You, Mistress Bao, shall enjoy a natural expansion upon your Tai Chi Chuan: you will be able to redirect an enemy's attacks, even at a distance. For instance, if a machine gun were about to fire at you, you could will its bullets to turn aside and hit only the ground. If a bomb were falling toward you, you could force it to fly back up and hit its own airplane."

"You speak of Earthly weapons," remarked her husband. "You must mean this as mere illustration, if the invaders' actual weapons are futuristic."

"Yes, it was illustration. Your wife's powers will work even against directed-energy weapons, as well as against live opponents rushing at her."

Mistress Bao then asked, "What if I am fired upon from all directions at once?"

"With practice-- though you have only two weeks at the most to get ready-- you will become able, for brief periods, to create a vortex which will divert attacks coming at you from all directions, also protecting your husband if he is near you. But this will not last long, and it will be harder to prevent the diverted attacks from hitting your friends.

"As for you, Master Kam, your power will be to your wife's power as the linear is to the circular. Whatever you can see or hear, within a radius of one kilometer, you can strike with shattering force, just by directing a punch in the air toward it. Anything you kick at close range will be immediately destroyed or disabled, including stone or metal objects-- unless for some reason you desire a thing NOT to be destroyed. Given practice and concentration, you will be able to make your attacking fist-power PASS HARMLESSLY THROUGH any non-hostile target, to strike a hostile target beyond. And your skin will be tough enough to stop at least small-caliber gunfire; this will not stop ray guns, but will reduce the damage you may take."

"Whom should we TELL about these gifts?" asked Mistress Bao.

"I cannot command you what to do," replied Mazash. But I suggest that you tell no one until the time comes. ESPECIALLY do not allow any non-Chinese person to know, because then the Party would suspect you of 'collaborating with foreigners.' If you tell anyone, let it be whatever local Party official you are on the best terms with. Tell him or her that you are trying to develop new skills which may help you to fight against reactionary enemies of the glorious people's republic."

"Do any other nations have specially-powered protectors?" asked Master Kam.

"Assume that they don't," replied Mazash-- knowing that if the couple so much as expressed curiosity about the subject, Party officials would suspect them of "disloyalty." For the wizard knew that the rulers in Beijing did have some knowledge of superheroes arising in the free world, and wanted to suppress this. It was not Mazash's calling to fight villains himself; the most he could do for China was to give it two superheroes who WEREN'T on the Party's "deviationist list."

Once Mazash vanished, the husband and wife went straight to work together, devising exercises by which they could understand and control their new powers.

They also urged all of their students, with the students' families, to travel to Beijing for a major wu-shu tournament. Anything to get them out of Guangdong for the next week or two.
 
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TRIPPENWONK MINUS THREE DAYS:

Stony Stork received a relatively ordinary visitor at his mansion-- but a useful visitor. This man was well over six feet tall, weighing at least two hundred seventy pounds, but all of this bulk healthy and well proportioned.

"Mister Stork, my name is Kirk Slippage. I hold doctorates in medicine, engineering, law, chemistry, electronics, biology, and police science. Law-enforcement bodies who consult me call me Doc Slippage. If you haven't heard of me--"

"I confess I haven't."

"No problem. Though deeply involved in crime-fighting, I don't seek fame. But my business here will be facilitated if I just go ahead and tell you: the magical kookaburra bird also spoke to me."

Stony reflexively looked all around, as if expecting to see eavesdroppers everywhere. "You've got my attention. Come inside. The man you'll see inside is my close confident, Roby Dobie...... Roby, meet Kirk Slippage, he knows about the kookaburra."

"Then we have to trust him," said Roby. "What have you come to tell us, Mister Slippage?"

Not bothering to insist on "Doc," Doc Slippage told both men, "I know about the impending attack. Last month, before I knew anything, I built my first working model of what I call an Electromagnetic Pulse Projector. It shoots a stream of energy to disable any electronically-controlled machine or device, and also disable any but the most simple and basic of electrical systems. Automobiles, for instance, will be affected, but a plain lightbulb will be unaffected unless deprived of its current by the power source being disabled."

"I follow you," said Stony. "Whatever equipment our enemies have, it's bound to have some kind of electronic elements."

"But did the magic bird promise you that the device would work against futuristic machines?" asked Roby.

"He said that the largest ships or tank-equivalents of the enemy might be effectively shielded, but everything smaller, such as their equivalents of jeeps, mortars or machine guns, will be vulnerable to the pulse."

Stony fingered his chin. "I expect that as soon as the kookaburra had spoken with you, you used all your resources to manufacture these projectors. How many do you have?"

Slippage pointed back at the door by which he had entered. "I've completed and action-tested four of them, all of which are in my van. The kookaburra told me that no superheroes have so far been posted in South America, but you have sent some of your own advanced armaments there. This was a good move, because he told me that Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, will be attacked the day after China is attacked."

"China will be attacked?" interjected Roby.

"Of course they're on the list, after Cairo and Stalingrad. One-sixth of Earth's population! Mister Stork, you need to fly my four projectors to Rio de Janeiro right away; I'm providing detailed manuals, in Portuguese, on how to use them. By tomorrow morning, I can have two more weapons ready, which you can use at your discretion. The last one I'll complete before the first attack, I'm keeping for myself, to defend Rochester, New York, my home city, in case it gets attacked. Design specifications in English are also included in my crates, and I'm giving you a supply of the specialized transistors I created for the invention. If you can build additional projectors with your own larger manufacturing assets in time to do any good, go for it."

TRIPPENWONK MINUS TWO DAYS:

Jasmine Waterford, in her original form and complaining about everything EXCEPT Marxism, landed in a clunky Aeroflot jet at Glorious Patriotic Victory Airport in Stalingrad. She was greeted by several insignificant male bureaucrats who didn't even speak English, and one uniformed woman who did.

Here as on Original Earth, the Soviet Union possessed an armed force which existed halfway between police and soldiers: the Interior Troops. Not that Jasmine had a clue about this, but Colonel Irina Pavlovna Beriya of the Internal Troops knew everything that was publicly available about Jasmine. This did not include Jasmine being the Exquisite She-Hunk.

"Comrade Waterford, welcome to the workers' paradise! I am Polkovnik (Colonel) Irina Beriya, and I am impressed by the record of your speeches at political events in the United States. Although you could have given more attention to the predatory crimes of the private enterprise system, your condemnation of oppressive American men was always exemplary. That is why, among many English-speaking female officers, I was most emphatically eager to meet you and show you our historic capital."

"Begging your pardon, Colonel, but are you descended from Lavrentiy Beriya?" Jasmine did know enough of her Earth's history to know that after the death of Iosif Stalin, Beriya had escaped being executed by Nikita Khrushchev, had himself eliminated Khrushchev instead, and had become Stalin's successor. Practically Stalin's clone.

Irina beamed. "I have the honor to be his great-granddaughter."
---------------------

A FEW HOURS LATER, IN ILLINOIS:

The modest city of Rockford, barely twenty miles south of the Wisconsin state line, had the distinction of being surrounded by fertile cornfields and pasture land, yet also being a powerful industrial hub for its size. Except for Charles Street, and the Winnebago Street Bridge, both of which perpetually needed repair, the streets and outlying roads were in good shape. Rockford had come through the civil rights era with dignity and decency, and interracial relations had been cordial for all of the twenty-first century so far.

In Sinnisippi Park, overlooking the Rock River, a teenage boy named Jeff Stierman was walking his golden retriever named Tin Rin Rin. In four years of life, this dog had shown a phenomenal ability to sense danger, preventing calamity from befalling his humans and their friends. But the Stiermans and their friends had never experienced what Jeff was about to witness.

Coming near a sandy baseball diamond, Tin Rin Rin suddenly tensed up; looked into the sky; growled and barked..... then excelled every other wonder dog by what followed. Stepping to the edge of the flat sandy area, he began DRAWING PICTURES in the sand with his left forepaw. The retriever had not gotten far at this before a dozen bypassers came over to see what was happening.

Ignoring the new onlookers, Tin Rin Rin drew a chart of the Solar System. To save time and drawing space, he drew the Sun at the far left of his depiction, drawing half-orbits of the planets on the right side. He placed the nine recognized planets, with correct relative sizes, in a straight line running out from the Sun. Astronomers on this Earth, even the Soviets who in this timeline had been the ones to land on the Moon (though not until 1981), had not yet identified Pluto's dwarf-planet companion Charon. The dog added a stick figure of a man standing on "Earth."

"Jeff, did you teach him this?" asked a lady who had been Jeff's third-grade teacher.

"No, Mrs. Tremblay, I never even imagined he could do this!"

"Well, don't stop him! Has anyone got a camera?" Cellphone cameras did not exist on this comparatively backward Earth; but two men in the growing circle did have emulsion-film cameras, and began snapping photos of the marvelous dog and his work.

Tin Rin Rin pointed at Earth in his diagram, then tapped his right forepaw on the ground. Next, he moved ten yards away from what he had sketched so far, and drew another star system. This one had a larger sun, but fewer planets. On the biggest of these new planets, he drew something unclear; after all, it wasn't as if he had a pencil and paper. Jeff peered closely at this detail, then suddenly said, "Tin Rin Rin, is that a cat?" The dog barked and nodded his head.

Mrs. Tremblay walked up closer. "Cat means enemy!" She pointed at the vague representation of a cat. "Tin Rin Rin, is this thing bad?" She received the same affirmative reasons as Jeff had received.

Now Tin Rin Rin drew a line of cats, apparently flying through the space from the other world to Earth. Finishing this, he pointed to the leading cat in the line; looked straight upward, growling; pointed to the leading cat again; struck his image of Earth with both forepaws; barked at the sky; then pressed anxiously against his master's legs.

That night, Rockford's NBC-network TV station reported the golden retriever's mysterious actions. Several Rockford residents who knew people who worked for Stork Enterprises made long-distance phone calls to the Stork employees they knew. And in this manner, Stony Stark learned that, when America's turn came, the attack would ignore both coasts, to attack flyover country. He determined that, in the one day of grace remaining before the attack on India, he would send trusted men to Rockford with Doc Slippage's other two Electromagnetic Pulse Projectors.

He also telephoned Kirk Slippage, to tell him that Rochester, New York, was not going to need that spare projector as soon as Illinois would need it.
 
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Resume changes of scene

On another low-grade Earth, one kaiju-type monster existed: a scaly, waddling brute called Radmassivus. Radmassivus was in the course of attacking the coast of South Africa. He was marching in a straight line into Capetown...... and the citizens of Capetown were all running straight forward ahead of the monster, as if they were purposely leading him somewhere.

Suddenly, a middle-aged Zulu woman turned to another woman running beside her, and said, "Why are we all running AHEAD of Radmassivus, and STAYING in his direct view? Shouldn't we veer off to the side, and get out of his way?" Just like that, everyone in the terrified crowd exclaimed as one: "Hey, she's right!" So they all took off to the sides, and Radmassivus passed them by.
 
In the Bat-Grotto outside Urbanopolis on Seedubb, Groan Starr had just been joined by Batfellow. They reviewed the study Groan had been doing through the Bat-Datacloud; then Groan spoke about his existing ideas, like trying to immobilize Opposite Whoosh with The Fuss.

"Let's make it on-the-job training now," said the Caped Campaigner. "The Princess Wife can come too; we'll use the Bat-Helo."

"Let me come too," Evening-Wing asked.

When they took off, Evening-Wing sat in front with Batfellow, because the former boy once called Robin-Good was also qualified to pilot the helicopter. In the rear seats, Vixen looked out on the left, and Groan on the right. Groan had become far more familiar with American geography than Vixen was; it was he who said, "Batfellow, you're flying us to the south, AWAY from Urbanopolis. Why is that?"

"For two reasons," Batfellow replied. "First, crime can occur in the suburbs and even in farm country. Second, from what you've told me about the planets you've lived on, for most of your life you haven't lived where people were so tightly crowded together as they are in Urbanopolis or Generic Large City. So, if we find some action to jump into, I'd rather that you would not be presented with so many targets that you don't know where to apply your telekinesis."

This exercise yielded two results.

Evening-Wing spotted a car driving erratically; so Groan used The Fuss to slow it to a full stop, then turn the ignition key to "off." The driver proved to be drunk, and Groan had almost certainly saved his life. He felt justifiably good about this, and the others congratulated him.

The second result was that the Bat-Helo was sighted by Captain Airplane, who told his fellow villains that the hunt for them was on.

Groan Starr did sense evil somewhere below, but the first evil they found was more Nickelback fans. This was good luck for El Ogro Feo and his friends, who were able to sneak away after the Bat-Helo overflew their hideout.
 
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In the Robert Heinlein-derived reality, the interstellar troopship Audie Murphy approached the star system which included the colony planet Freesoil. Its captain, Suzanne Meriwether, sent out radio hails; and after no more delay than lightspeed lag would account for when hyperspace radio wasn't being used, she heard from a man at the colony.

"Acknowledging Audie Murphy. This is Hsing Tu-Lo, comms overseer for Freesoil Colony. Since we sent the hyper-comms call, we were joined by a second colonizing group, calling themselves the Mudpackers. They were well enough armed to enable a victory over the Creepycrawlids. We are now in tranquil conditions, no need of rescue. Thank you."

The word "tranquil" was a code word, assuring the Starship Grunts and their space carriers that the colonists really were all right, not being held under duress by anyone. So Captain Meriwether sent back: "Very well, Freesoil, glad you're safe. We'll proceed to our next mission."

Conditions really were peaceful on Freesoil; Dark Headgear and his mixed crew saw no reason to harm or tyrannize their new friends. Better to establish a safe port of call against future need. The only violence going on consisted of recurring equally-matched, inconclusive battles between Lylah and Krayzee, over which one of them was Dark Headgear's girlfriend.
 
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In Magnet City, New Jersey, on the Earth which was John Stewmeat's native world, Detective Captain Trace Dickey thought things were quiet now that the crooked Mayor Tripleface was out of office. He was mistaken. But although he would soon have cause to wish his world's Green Flashlight were here, very soon after this he would be glad that John WASN'T here.

It was a very rare off-duty day for the hard-working detective, and the family was playing volleyball in the back yard. Mrs. Bess Dickey was on one side with her first and her middle child, thirteen-year-old Sammy and eleven-year-old Paula, while nine-year-old Bill played beside his father. The sides were even at two games each, and the tie-breaker was just getting underway, when the extraterrestrials descended.

Without need of a spaceship.

The three shapes were still a quarter-mile above the Dickey house when Trace quietly told his dependents, "Remember the big act." Years before, based on his knowledge of other worlds acquired from his Green Flashlight friend, Trace had frankly told his family that, apart from their local Green Flashlight, their world had nothing that could beat back an invasion by any of six advanced alien civilizations which were close enough to come here. Thus, if space aliens appeared in Magnet City when John Stewmeat was away, humans' best chance of survival would be to act as astonished as anyone would be who DIDN'T know that extraterrestrials existed; not to volunteer any important information to the aliens; but not to lie outright. Trace, without any super-powers or far-future devices, had a keen instinct for spotting liars; therefore, he had to assume that interlopers enjoying interstellar transportation would also be able to catch someone lying.

Bess and the children didn't have to FAKE being scared. They fled indoors, and into the basement. Knowing how unlikely it was that he could fight the aliens if they were hostile, he could only hope to keep their attention on him so they wouldn't bother doing anything to his family.

Something else which the detective had learned from his world's Green Flashlight was that many otherworldly intelligent species did not resemble humans even slightly. John had even mentioned one highly civilized race which looked like giant lobsters. But the three beings now descending toward him all appeared like human females-- impossibly beautiful women, perfect by human standards, clad in form-fitting body-suits. The tallest of them wore yellow; the others had baby-blue outfits. The detective noticed that each one of them had what looked like a small red gem adhering to her forehead. If they're part of a multi-world alliance, like the Green Flashlight Corps or like the Federation in Star Trip shows, they would surely include non-humanoid races. And they would have no reason to exclude non-humanoids from a first-contact delegation-- unless they ASSUMED that we humans know nothing about space aliens, and would panic at the sight of giant lobsters. It follows that either they don't know John lives here; or if knowing this, they assume that he wouldn't have told anyone about alien worlds. Remember, no use lying, but I won't VOLUNTEER any information.

The tallest of them was over seven feet tall, and had long purple hair, but in every other detail she was indistinguishable from a typical top-tier white American supermodel or sexy movie star on Trace's Earth. On her right was what looked like an African-American woman, only with an extra finger on each hand; this one was the most muscular of the three, but not in a way that made her less attractive. She was like a black Gina Carano.

The one on Purple Hair's left was physically the smallest of the three, but by no means tiny. Her only visible differences from true humans consisted of butter-yellow skin, and a neck just slightly longer than any human woman would have. If a human male were to embrace and kiss her, he would do well to pass both his arms around her neck, above her shoulders. Her hair was a medium brown, almost anticlimactic compared to her differences. This one spoke first, and her forehead gem blinked as she talked; apparently these gems did for them what John's Flashlight did for him: enabling communication across language barriers.

"You are Trace Dickey, whom the Green Flashlight John Stewmeat esteems as the wisest human on this version of Planet Earth."

Okay, they obviously don't NEED me to volunteer much information.

Long Neck went on: "You therefore are worthy to be the first to greet us." Muscle Chick added: "We represent the Heart Sapphire Sisterhood, which is the highest manifestation of true civilization in all universes."

Modest, aren't they?

"We never kill, nor steal, nor enslave lesser beings," said Purple Hair. "We exist for the purpose of promoting LOVE."

Why do I not find this as reassuring as I should?
 
On Bubblewrap Five, at a time when Security Chief Snack Salad was fast asleep after his shift as acting commander of the station, and Captain Broccoli was taking her turn on the bridge, Noherra Synthmusica and Gross-Goo the Toofah-Roffian prodigy approached Lt. Commander Josh Cordwood, the station's executive officer. Noherra didn't need psychic powers to understand why Gross-Goo wanted to pursue a certain line of inquiry. She was embarrassed to go along with this, because it made her feel as if she were being unfaithful to her fallen hero Klayman. But she couldn't bring herself to refuse, either.

After all, it had been more than two standard years since Klayman had died his heroic death; Noherra knew for certain that he would not hold it against her if she tried to find love again; and if one human male had been worthy of her love, perhaps another human male could be worthy as well. Snack Salad had no Fuss powers, but that was not what she had loved Klayman for anyway. Snack did have the same kind heart and manly sense of duty as Klayman had shown. Every long-time resident on the station could bear witness to the unselfish attentiveness which Snack had shown to Miss Alkaseltzer, the coldly unappreciative telepath; and they could also tell how Snack had cast his lot with Bruce Loxbagel and the freedom fighters when his Earth was taken over by same-old- standard-stereotype fascists. This made him still more like the gallant Klayman; unquestionably Klayman would have liked Snack.

""Commander Cordwood, may we speak to you, if you've already eaten your breakfast?"

"I have, and you may. How can I assist you?"

"By now, Gross-Goo and I have heard the outline of how Mintcandybarri Counselor Deelyte underwent a biological alteration, which made her just human enough to be able to have children with Captain, I mean President Loxbagel. But the most vital question remains unanswered..."

Suddenly, Noherra froze up. These people believe that the Deelyte-Loxbagel marriage is a unique event, never to be duplicated. And I can't provide clinical details of how Humans and Tryyurlucks have successfully married and had babies in my sub-reality. My career was never in the life sciences! I'm going to seem insane to Mister Cordwood.

But Gross-Goo made the save. "Commander, as I understand it, there are two reasons why you strongly discourage emotional bonds between members of different species, even if they are greatly similar both in anatomy and in personality traits. First, due to the impossibility of their producing children, it's hard to believe that there would even BE as deep a love between them as the love which ideally creates families, so there would nearly always be breakups which leave someone hurt. The first reason leads to the second: persons who attempted and lost such a love-bond might want revenge on the ENTIRE SPECIES of the rejecting partner."

Noherra found her voice now. "I've spoken with your station's healthcare personnel, none of whom are Mintcandybarri. They know WHAT happened to Deelyte, but none of them has a clue to how this could be duplicated."

"All right, I see where you're going, Captain Synthmusica," said Cordwood. "It may simplify matters if I tell you that the entire human staff of Bubblewrap Five, except for Chief Salad himself, already knows that you feel powerfully attracted to him. If there were a way to get past the genetic problem--"

No one had ever seen the green tails hanging behind from Noherra's head stand straight up like flagpoles; but they did so now.

"HOW DID YOU FIND THAT OUT??"

"Well, uh, the fact that you spend more time with Snack than with any ten other humans here was a clue, but that could mean only friendship. What convinced everyone that it's approaching love was the, er, the snooping of a Snitsnobbie telepath, named Sneekor Snoopicus."

Right then, Secretary Leftear, the highest-ranking Mintcandybarri currently on board the station, walked up to them. He addressed Noherra almost shyly: "Captain Synthmusica, I'm aware of your-- scientific interest in inter-world marriages. I can provide you with at least part of the facts about how Lady Deelyte became approximately human."

Suddenly ignoring Josh Cordwood, Noherra replied, "Thank you, Leftear. Would your information include a way to stop telepaths from poking into MY business?"

"They don't have unlimited range. You can just avoid being near them."

Noherra scowled. "If I know which people ARE the telepaths."

"If this helps, none of the Goldarns have telepathy. The Shadythings removed that potential from them as a race, thousands of years ago."

"I have a way to help you with that, Noherra," said Gross-Goo. It was the first time Noherra had ever seen him give what could be called a wicked smile.

 
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On Planet Alwaysurnia, False Teerifica still was believed to be Actual Teerifica. Thus, with Mighty Male believed to be dead, the Alwaysurnian people cried out for Teerifica to defend them when the evil warlord Crowd-Hack sent an army in spaceships to invade this world which had also lost its other great defender, Sorcery Lass.

To everyone who cried out for help, False Teerifica snapped some dismissal: "I'm not finished with my cardio!" or "You're exaggerating!"

One of Alwaysurnia's quasi-cyborgs, called Sledgehammer Man, rounded up some volunteers to meet Crowd-Hack's orc-like troops. The defenders fought valiantly, but were all captured. Only after Sledgehammer Man and his followers were prisoners locked up inside a ship, did False Teerifica pretend to counterattack the enemy singlehandedly. By arrangement with Skamartistor, Crowd-Hack's warriors pretended to flee in fear from Teerifica.

But the captured good guys remained captives.
 
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Back on Punksteema, the semi-retired Smoke Maiden Jillian Shard was on her way to the Loi-Hukshem town where the Pril family dwelt, in order to try her hand at instructing the betrothed maiden Razibi, whose husband-to-be approved of this. The boy D'Kovo had been presented by his parents with a high-quality double-curved bow of Loi-Hukshem design, arrows of two kinds (wide point and narrow point), and D'Kovo's own favorite pony, a good traveler. Captain Telbroc of the Malgriff Hussars accompanied Ronald of Goliad and D'Kovo Pril as far as the eastern border of Hukshem.

Both before and after Captain Telbroc bade them farewell, D'Kovo spoke about his family and his own childhood. The Towerman and the Captain both related adventures of their own. Telbroc, for his part, described feats of archery he had witnessed; and Ronald recounted adventures he had shared with his now-deceased friend Wyatt Hickok.

The next country after Hukshem, with people racially similar to the Loi-Hukshem, was called Kikoro, and its people were the Loi-Kikoro. Knowledge of commerce-languages continued to be helpful to the gunslinger-knight, but he still found it very advantageous that D'Kovo was as fluent in the Loi-Kikoro tongue as in his own. Also advantageous was the fact that the Pril family enjoyed many cordial business relationships with Loi-Kikoro merchants. After crossing Kikoro, the two travelers would need to cross the same gulf on which that frightful storm had once occurred, as related at the Pril house by T'Pinnok; and D'Vargut Pril had provided a letter of introduction which would help Ronald and D'Kovo get passage on a ship whose crew knew how to keep live animals safe at sea.
 
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