Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

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Mopey-One Kanoli had continued to hear from Up-Side Master Yoga-Rug at intervals. Mopey-One thus knew that Noherra Synthmusica, Gross-Goo and others were helping the humans of the Bubblewrap Coalition to improve their starships very much as the Human Federation was being helped by Mopey-One's party.

This process of staying informed reminded Mopey-One that advances in technology are never monolithic. The Babylon Five-patterned story-reality and the Starship Troopers-patterned story-reality were both receiving guidance from the exact same technological base: that of the Star-Wars-slash-Spaceballs-based story-reality. But the two civilizations differed in their shortcomings. Ships of the Human Federation possessed actual generation of gravity force, whereas Earthlyforce ships did not; but Earthlyforce warships designed on "J.M.S. Earth" possessed shipboard armament far better than anything mounted by Federal Earth's space navy.

Neither weaponry nor gravity, however, was the immediate concern for Lavinia Creston from Pro Dashalong's crew. She and an experienced Federal Earth electrician called Nondis Krypt were inspecting powerlines from the main reactor on board the troop ship Itto Origami.

"Electricity is electricity, whatever the conducting medium," the older woman told Lavinia. "The proposed new shields and armament will consume so much more electricity, the bus-bars will need to be thicker and more numerous. Three-dimensional space inside a ship IS three-dimensional space, and something will have to give. Less bunking room, less food-storage room, less room for air purifiers?"

"You're partly correct," Lavinia replied. "But our ships have electrical conduits which can carry MORE voltage and amperage for a given cross-section. And there's another compensating factor. Since your ships will reach any destination sooner, they won't NEED as much food-storage room and suchlike."

Nondis fell silent while she replaced the covers on two circuit-breaker boxes they were finished with. After they had moved to another junction point, she said, "What about the retraining of all our electricians and reactor techs? How long will that take?"

"With luck, not terribly long. We can make the circuitry improvements be logical extensions of what you have at present."

"That's good to hear." After another half hour of diligent work: "Are you seeing Mister Kanoli?"

Lavinia shrugged. "Not socially. I like him, but he and I are too different from each other."
 
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Lieutenant Jawad and Hoodunnit the Pensive were biologically more different from each other than Mopey-One Kanoli was different from Lavinia Creston; but Lydia and Hoodunnit were more similar in spirit than Mopey-One and Lavinia.

Trying not to be obvious about trying to help things along, Fratbro and Vastbulk offered to take over Hoodunnit's public appearances and news conferences. "You can still be part of building our local friendships," Vastbulk assured his friend. "You can spend more time with the Starship Grunts." Wearing his most innocent expression, Fratbro added: "You could sit in on combat-training sessions. I understand that Lieutenant Jawad is often at those."

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Hoodunnit went to a close-combat practice hour unannounced, but of course everyone there knew who he was, and at least half of them knew how Lydia Jawad felt about the roughly handsome alien. Invited to participate directly, Hoodunnit said matter-of-factly, "I'm afraid I'm too accustomed to hitting for real. I suggest that each of you try HITTING ME in turns. Any place other than my eyes or below the belt. I'll simply take it, then try to offer any appropriate advice on your technique."

None of the regular-human soldiers, Lydia included, could make an impression on Hoodunnit. He did offer the best martial advice he could; and although there was nothing jolly about him, his courtesy and clear sincerity prevented anyone from resenting his advantage of superhuman strength.

So it was that, by the time an unexpected subspace bulletin came in from out-system, the troopers already felt as if Hoodunnit were one of them. A colony world of the Human Federation which had never to date been attacked by Creepycrawlids was now being invaded. And it became the most natural thing for several of the male Grunts to ask Hoodunnit to join the rescue sortie.

"Give Pro Dashalong the coordinates," the Hallpasscardian told them. "Captain Dashalong will be glad to help. Choose one squad of your warriors to ride with me in his ship, so that SOME help can reach your colony at the very soonest possible moment. The rest of the relief company will follow us at best speed. Master Kanoli may also be available to accompany us with his own ship."

Amid the excitement of impending action, Lydia suddenly experienced a not-so-military shyness. Her asking to be in Hoodunnit's advance team would be throwing herself at him.

But hey, if Mopey-One also set out against the big bugs, Lydia could ask to ride in his A-Frame ship's one passenger seat. This wouldn't be so obvious, would it?
 
The up-side hero did intend to accompany the rescue mission, did sympathize with Lydia's feelings for the Hallpasscardian, and did allow her to ride in his fighter-bomber. Mechanics in the Federal Service improvised attachments and control connections for explosive ordnance which Mopey-One could use against the carnivorous horde on Planet Kostupla.

These underwing munitions could be controlled from the backseat, so Mopey-One showed Lydia how to run the relevant controls. He also showed her how to run the ship on voice control and start up a distress beacon, in case he came to harm but she survived while they were in flight. They kept station on Pro Dashalong's ship during the hyperspace crossing; the Lawrence Joshua Chamberlain, a regular Federation troopship designated on standby for such cases, would come along after them within a day or less.

On the way, Mopey-One communicated with Sergeant First Class Harry Biffo, the ranking Starship Grunt on board Pro Dashalong's vessel. "What can you tell me about Kostupla?"

"If not for the scragging bugs invading it, Sir, that place would be a paradise. Solar radiation level within safe boundaries, wholesome atmosphere, bearable temperatures, plenty of water, good rivers for hydro-electric powerplants, metal ores to enable tool-making, fertile soil which can accept all Earth-type food crops, no seriously dangerous wild animals. The settlers have been there for two full generations, and have established multiple independent states-- well, independent locally, though still under Federation authority-- WITHOUT having any serious quarrels among them."

Mopey-One sighed. "In a way, Sergeant, I'm sorry to hear that."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"I'm confident that we'll defeat the present threat to the Kostuplans--"

"Respectfully, Sir, they call themselves 'Kostuplites.' It's meant to suggest the word 'hoplite,' meaning a type of ancient warrior."

"Thank you, Sergeant. My concern is that the distant enemies about whom we've told your people-- that is, BESIDES the Face Twisters-- would be even more eager than the Creepycrawlids to capture this colony planet. Which lends additional urgency to our efforts to upgrade your self-defense capability."

"Roger that, Sir."

Listening in on this dialogue did not change Lydia's love and preference for Hoodunnit, but it did heighten her respect for Master Kanoli.
 
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The readers are invited to assume that Sergeant Biffo gave Mopey-One the same additional information which I will now disclose.

The planet-name "Kostupla" is not merely a self-indulgent joke on the author's part; it's a little joke occurring WITHIN the story. The colonists there had come up with this name for their world, INTENDING a twist upon the words "costume play." All of the original settlers, or at least someone in every family that went there, loved live-action roleplaying. In fact, they had named their planet's moon "Larp." The Society for Creative Anachronism had existed on their Earth-variant; and once well established, the pioneers of Kostupla had made S.C.A.-type recreation their number-one style of entertainment. One reason why no human-against-human wars had ever occurred on the colony world was because the most serious disputes between towns were arbitrated by absolutely non-lethal battles with wooden swords.

Fortunately, the Kostuplites had known of the existence of Creepycrawlids for a long time. The space pods which carried swarms of Creepycrawlids to targeted worlds were plain enough to be seen entering atmosphere, and their failure to reply to hailing transmissions from the settlers had confirmed the worst. Friendly ships would have announced themselves. At the time of the enemy landing, no humans had been standing around near the landing locations obligingly waiting to be eaten alive.

Obviously, the settlers' sport weapons would be of no use against the Creepycrawlids. But the fortified villages they had created-- always on high ground, with secure water sources in case of siege or simple drought-- WERE of use. Constructed from good stone and good lumber, with design features to make external scaling of the walls very difficult, these places had saved their citizens from being devoured in the first hours; and every walled settlement had at least one secret evacuation tunnel. Such firearms as the pioneers possessed inflicted only limited damage on the monsters, but Molotov cocktails had proven far more effective. The first three towns to be hit suffered the most losses, but all of their children escaped, packed into aircars at the far ends of the tunnels.

By the time Mopey-One's A-Frame fighter-bomber hit atmosphere over Kostupla, all surviving humans on the planet were either hiding out in marshy or arctic areas where the big bugs could not move around quickly, or else holed up in one of the planet's two largest and hardest-to-break-into strongholds. One, La Rochelle, was in the temperate belt of the northern hemisphere. The other, Carcassonne, was on a different continent from La Rochelle, in a colder zone. It was more or less as if, on Earth, La Rochelle had been in Italy, and Carcassonne in southern Argentina.

Operating the subspace radio, Lydia told Mopey-One: "They're in comms with each other as well as with us. A bigger number of bugs assaulted the warmer location. Carcassonne estimates they can hold out unassisted for another half day, but La Rochelle will be done for if they don't get relief within the next ninety minutes."

"Understood, Lieutenant. So we help La Rochelle first. When I bail out, this ship will obey your voice commands from right where you sit. Pass our news to Captain Dashalong, and to the Chamberlain."

There were over four thousand Creepycrawlids besieging the broad, fortified hilltop which was La Rochelle. The corpses of another three hundred, most of them slain by burning, lay on the slopes outside the Kostuplite citadel. When Mopey-One came in for his attack run, The Fuss guided him in taking out the largest possible number of arthropods without harming any friendlies. Each of his cluster-warhead missiles killed or disabled more than sixty Creepycrawlids, and he had thirty-two of those weapons.

 
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"Stand by to take over, Lieutenant. Never fear, autopilot will override any commands of yours that would cause you to crash. When we pass above the town, I'll drop down inside and help them hold the walls. You make the bugs toward the rear eat some laser, then check in with Carcassonne. If that place remains defensible, you continue burning the bugs here, and let Captain Dashalong see to the southern stronghold."

"May The Fuss be with you!" Lydia Jawad impulsively exclaimed.

When Mopey-One made his telekinetically-slowed fall into the colonial fortress, a pioneer woman who had spoken to him by radio ran up to him. "You're Master Stromboli?"

"Close enough." He pointed in two directions along the rampart as he said his next words: "Remove your gunners from the stretch between there and there. I can hold that portion by myself; let those troops thicken the defense elsewhere. Go!"

Before contacting the other settlement, Lydia put her tactical sense to work. Anticipating that the monsters would sense weakness on the section of wall from which men were being redeployed, she told the fighter-bomber to laser-blast bugs trying to scale that section. When she saw that the up-side master was ready to do his thing on the wall, she shifted her fire to other threatened points.

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As the monsters converged upon the base of the wall directly beneath him, the lone hero shouted to them-- in a language unknown to the colonists, to avoid confusing the latter: "These aren't the humans you're looking for! Move along!" The monsters resumed their efforts to climb up the wall and break into the citadel. Oh well, it was worth trying.

To conserve his strength, Mopey-One decided on the most energy-conserving way to thwart their scaling of the wall. Telekinetically prying claws loose from their holds in the masonry, he made the highest-up arthropods fall onto the ones below them. This, he would easily be able to continue for an hour or longer. That is, if not for the Creepycrawlids bringing up a huge flamethrower bug. He had been told, back on Federal Earth, what those incendiary invertebrates could do.

Now exerting his mind-over-matter to the utmost, he forced the quasi-dragon to swerve away from the fortress-- and cremate seventy or eighty of the common bugs. If a Psionic Bug was directing the besiegers, it must have inferred that Mopey-One had established mind control over the flamethrower bug, though this was not strictly true. Because a moment later, some thirty common Creepycrawlids overran the incendiary monster. In a horrid battle within the battle, the flamethrower killed more than half of its associates turned assailants, but at last was totally dismembered and dissected.

Only now did Mopey-One activate the lightsaber stored in his Fuss ring. When the alien horrors tried again to climb over the wall, he began slicing and dicing them as fast as they reached the battlements. All colonists holding guns maintained a steady fire, until they ran out of ammunition. The defenders were about to abandon the outer wall-- when Pro Dashalong's ship dropped through atmosphere, firing neutron cannons into what was left of the alien swarm.
 
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Peering through the forward canopy over the captain's shoulder, Hoodunnit shouted, "Look up there, to the right! Drop me off there!" The Hallpasscardian pointed toward the one spot nearby which rose higher than the citadel: a crag from which creatures who could survive a hard landing might be able to leap into the citadel's interior. And at least fifteen Creepycrawlids were clearly attempting exactly that.

Pro nodded, and issued an order: "Combat team, await signal! Hoodunnit will exit first, the rest of you half a minute later on command!"

Everyone who was NOT about to dive onto a rocky spire without a means of slowing, made sure they were secure in their seats. Hoodunnit sprang out into the roaring air. An impact which would have instantly killed most humans, did not prevent him from gaining a stable position. Leaving his sword sheathed so he had a hand free for grasping holds, he hefted his axe and worked his way toward his first target. He understood that his loathsome adversaries were much better able to maneuver on a near-vertical rock surface than he was. But like a human, he was smarter than the bugs were; and unlike any non-metahuman human, he was stronger than they were.

The first two Creepycrawlids to come within his reach died quickly. The others were not afraid; soldier bugs were incapable of being afraid; but the colonists were their true objective. One more Creepycrawlid sought to keep Hoodunnit occupied, while the rest bypassed him. A hasty glance gave him the impression that no one inside La Rochelle had yet noticed the bugs trying to get in position to spring onto their wall from a new direction. Lydia was doing well with Mopey-One's ship; she and Pro Dashalong had already slain almost half of the remaining bugs; but even a handful of the monsters would slay dozens of the defenders if they got inside the wall.

Time for a snap decision. Letting his axe fall to free his right hand, Hoodunnit surprised the nearby monster by grabbing one of its legs-- then jumping into empty air, hauling the creature with him. They landed on the parapet, the giant bug underneath..... not that its jagged exoskeleton gave the demi-human hero much cushioning! But the point was that they were NOTICED.

Good thing, too, since there were additional Creepycrawlids on the crag besides those he had first observed. The Starship Grunts let off by Pro Dashalong cut loose with their machine guns, while Hoodunnit was making sure none of his bones were broken. Mopey-One was too deep in the brunt of the main battle to lend aid in that quarter, but enough firepower was now directed at the sneak attackers that none of them succeeded.

In brief, the day went to the bipeds. Not enough monsters ever got anywhere inside La Rochelle to overwhelm the defense. Three more colonists were killed, plus four Movable Infantry; but the noncombatants were safe. Shortly afterwards, Pro received a call from the Lawrence Joshua Chamberlain: Starship Grunts were being delivered in regimental strength to the relief of Carcassonne. They had arrived in time, before that stronghold could be breached.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Lydia Jawad landed the A-Frame ship at the nearest place where she could safely land it, then scrambled out and began frantically searching for Hoodunnit. Since the locals all knew English, they were confused when they heard her crying out a name which sounded like a question in sloppy English.

Finally she found him, on ground level inside the city. He was sitting on the corpse of the last Creepycrawlid he had slain, elbows propped on his knees; his green-smeared sword lay on the ground. Lydia had not risen from the ranks to a commission without acquiring the discipline to check a comrade for injuries BEFORE doing anything like, say, showering him with kisses. She noticed that one of the colonists had bandaged a wound on Hoodunnit's back.

Without looking up, the gruff swashbuckler addressed the gorgeous lieutenant by her first name for the first time ever. "Lydia. I'm glad you're safe. And you can see that none of my wounds are severe. The only reason I'm not looking straight at you is because I'm trying to remember how to smile. No joke, you know I don't make jokes. I literally forgot HOW to smile, something like four hundred years ago."

Lydia sat on the ground, so she could see his mustached face. "At the risk of a stupid question, what robbed you of smiles?"

"Bereavement. Around FIVE hundred years ago, I fell in love with a woman of Mediumgard. Her name was Mimi Bolero. King Garryowen had misgivings, but didn't forbid me to marry her. Thorpe and Queen Sprigga sympathized. Mimi was given all possible anti-aging care on Hallpasscard, and made it to age one hundred and thirty-four. Bore me eleven children, Actual God bless her. I had to bury all of THEM, too, but they did enjoy long lives in human terms, full of worthy achievements. Generation after that, only a long-for-Mediumgard lifespan. I still see my great-great-great-grandchildren from time to time: especially one called Bright Window, born Masha Lomonosova. I managed to show them all that I loved them, only I didn't smile after Mimi passed away."

Pro suddenly was standing near, saying, "Yes, I know it IS possible to have a loving heart EVEN if that heart carries long-term grief."

"True, my friend. It's a divine mercy that my descendants accepted my word that I was pleased to have them in my life, even if I didn't smile."

Lydia cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Hoodunnit, but can we get back to the part about your trying NOW to regain your smile at last?"

And then he DID smile at her. This moment would eventually be spoken of with wonderment in the court of Garryowen and Sprigga. "You know what, Lydia? You have a sweet, perky voice when you choose to show it."

She smiled back, rose from sitting to kneeling, and laid a hand on his right arm. "You deserve to be talked to sweetly. You deserve a lot of good things. Hoodunnit, I want to GIVE you good things."

"Your friendship has already given me much."

From the side, Pro punched Hoodunnit's left shoulder. "Dagnab it, don't you DARE friend-zone her now!!!"

Lydia added hastily: "I've helped fellow soldiers and their dependents through bereavement. I respect grief. But a bereaved person is allowed to move on at last. You obviously moved on enough to stay involved in your family's lives, as your duties permitted. And I promise that I'll never try to make you FORGET your Mimi; I just believe your noble heart has room in it for one more occupant. And think: if you-- if WE were to beget new children, they would experience the paradox of having great-great-great-nieces and -nephews who were OLDER than they were. That should give them a special perspective on life."

Every living and conscious human being in La Rochelle above the age of eight now thundered with one voice: "COME ON, KISS HER ALREADY, DIMWIT!!!" The souls of slain colonists, looking down from Heaven at two who had helped rescue their surviving relatives, shared the sentiment.

So Hoodunnit allowed Lydia to re-train him in kissing, after which smiling was no longer a problem. Then he gazed right out of the story, to declare to all readers:

"YES, knowing true love IS worth facing bereavement, even worth facing it more than once."
 
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WE NOW SWITCH TO SEEDUBB EARTH, WHERE WE REJOIN A REFORMED VERSION OF HARLEY QUINN: THE ONE MARRIED TO A VERSION OF ALFRED THE BUTLER, NOT THE ONE MARRIED TO A VERSION OF WINTER SOLDIER.

"Hello, Mallet Lady?" said the voicemail. "This is Tightrope Tito, remember me? I worked for the Funny Man one time in 2011, when he needed someone to help detach a lot of satellite dishes from high rooftops....."

Twenty-two miles west of the city limits of Urbanopolis, a fenced-off, locked-up, empty factory building was distinguished by a gigantic sign, which could be read from a quarter-mile away. In four languages-- English, Spanish, Korean and Arabic-- it said:

"UNUSED OLD FACTORY, WHICH NO FUGITIVE SUPER-VILLAINS COULD EVER POSSIBLY BE HIDING IN."

This had been The Wisecracker's idea of a joke, when establishing an extra hideout for himself and Harpy Grinn. They had never gotten around to using this one, and various persons looking inside it at various times had always in fact found it empty. So now Harpy NICKELWORTH could use the place for concealment, while allowing electronic networks to do her searching for her. Since she was carrying an unborn human being inside her, she was NOT AT ALL eager to get into any perilous escapades if she could avoid it. The actual telephones she was using were on land lines, running to cellular-network relay stations, so that no one monitoring signals would know where she actually was. This setup had been provided to Wisecracker years ago, by Lex Loozor, before Lex fled from America altogether.

Following up on her pretense of splitting from Alphonse, Harpy was now pretending to make a general-purpose effort to build a new gang. The real purpose, however, was trolling to find clues about where major villains like Opposite Whoosh (and anyone they kidnaped) had gotten to.

The old Harpy Grinn would have been recruiting crooks for real, and would have enjoyed the process. But Harpy Nickelworth was hating every minute of it. She wanted to be with her beloved, the father of her developing baby. She also wanted to enjoy the emotional support of Catfemale, who had given birth to Huntergirl.

Jumping jugglers, I hate pretending to despise my husband! I especially hate it when video-channel content creators call me "stunning and brave and free" for socking Alphonse. I hope they all get viruses in their tablets! Oh, please, Alphonse, never ever doubt me. I miss you, and I want to be with you again! I would rather fall down dead than ever genuinely return to crime!
 
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The first valuable "bite" Harpy scored was a call from a mildly metahuman crook who had been in on heists with Wisecracker. Glueface had managed to stay mostly under the radar where superheroes were concerned, because his crimes were crimes of cunning, not violence. Never even severe property damage.

This outlaw did not have the fantasy ability to change his body shape radically and yet somehow keep his vital organs functioning. What he could do was to make any part of his body stick to things like epoxy glue, then release it at will. This power facilitated climbing walls like Spiderweb-Man, and grabbing objects out of other people's hands. It would have enabled Glueface to suffocate victims by covering their nostrils and mouths; but in addition to his not wanting to kill anyone, this attack form would have exposed him to counterattack. Even in her criminal days, Harpy had never been eager to slay anyone (except maybe Batfellow, and the most obnoxious telemarketers), and this had given her at least a modest kinship feeling toward Glueface.

"Gotta congratulate you, hot lady," said the petty super-villain in his phone call, "for fighting the patriarchy and being smart again."

Right then Harpy winced, and was glad that this was not a videophone call. He thinks it was okay for me to be bossed around and used by Wisecracker, but expects me to agree that a GOOD man who really LOVES me is a nasty patriarch? Keeping her calm, she proceeded:

"Good to hear from ya, sticky boy. Right now, I ain't plannin' anything ultra-risky, not with old Mister Nickel-Worthless havin' everybody hunting for me. I'll happily go back to the old reckless ways, AFTER we have new bolt-holes to escape to. And since YOU'VE done so good at not gettin' caught, I bet you already have some resources along those lines."

"I sure do, Harpy. Secret rooms here and there, off'a the basements of respectable places like libraries."

Harpy smiled. The kind of short-term hideouts to which Glueface referred might very well have been used by whatever bad guys had abducted Marysuefire and Goldfinch. At the first opportunity, she would pass this news to Virgil Fixxit, who would make sure that the Bats-family received the information. And her true love would know that she was accomplishing something.

In the meantime, using her best squeaky-naughty-girl voice, she congratulated Glueface on becoming the first metahuman member of her new gang. Perhaps she would call it the Birds of Playing.

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Meanwhile, on the West Coast:

Astonished at himself after successfully taking the storekeeper Kelly-Faye Merrick to lunch, Lucius Fixxit afterwards conferred with his father in Urbanopolis by encrypted phone. He didn't hide his new acquaintance, but the call was chiefly about Bats-Family business.

"Dad, this 'Rent-A-Nazi' gag is just so weird! It's counter-intuitive! I feel like we should pursue it."

""Hmmm. Well, since Bruce follows hunches now and then, I say go for it with your hunch. I can even give you a pretext to contact this paper-making company. I have enough discretion for this. I'll tell the owners of Birchbark Mills that we're interested in hiring them to produce greeting cards and the like for use by Dwayne Enterprises executives....."

Virgil's overtures to the paper manufacturer resulted in Lucius riding a corporate jet up to Oregon the next day, to meet with a certain Dustin Prather, who was a prominent stockholder in Birchbark Mills. The Dwayne Enterprises offer to buy products from Birchbark was legitimate, but Mister Prather-- who turned out to be a rabbi-- anticipated Lucius' additional area of interest.

"I designed those posters myself. In the last four decades, I have never discovered any Neo-Nazi group anyplace in America which had any more power than a small amateurish gang. But you never know. So I have had those posters put up anonymously in over forty cities, for two purposes. Of course, to see if they drew a reaction from any actual Neo-Nazi group that I might have overlooked; but also to see if they were noticed by the sort of people who always cry 'Look out for the Nazis!' in order to prevent some OTHER evil from being investigated. I have always uncovered more of the second sort than the first sort."
 
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Lucius took a deep breath. It was time now to be a detective.

"Rabbi Prather, I'm so glad to get to know you. There are never too many wise people in the world. Say we forget the question of whether there are lots of active Nazis in America right now, though I never see any myself. What about EVERY brand of bad guys, including but not limited to any present-day goose-steppers? You know that my employer, Dwayne Enterprises, has friendly contacts with superheroes; and without it being untrue that we're interested in doing business with your company, I'm glad for any opportunity to collect clues that can boost the fight against evil."

Dustin Prather smiled broadly, and gestured toward a bookshelf in his office. "Do you see those groupings of books, ten copies each of three titles? I'll give you an autographed copy of each one. I'll be pleased to relay specific news of super-villains and secret conspiracies if I ever HAVE any news of those; for sure, I'll provide you a file of the minor contacts which ensued from the poster game. But I operate in the arena of ideas; I'm too old to walk up vertical walls or survive point-blank machinegun fire. The ATMOSPHERE of any society always affects the incidence of crime. When millions of young people treat violent bad boys like rock stars-- have you heard the saying, 'Whatever you reward, you'll get more of'?"

"Yes, sir. I also know that Isaiah wrote, 'If favor is shown to the wicked, he does not learn righteousness'. You've doubtless heard how the Dwayne Foundation subsidizes efforts to rehabilitate ex-convicts; that's not pampering them IN evil, it's leading them AWAY FROM evil."

"Yes, I admire that greatly. I was terribly saddened to learn that Harpy Nickelworth backslid. I have a happy marriage myself, and I feel so bad for Mister Nickelworth now. If this isn't being intrusive, how do you think he's handling it?"

Lucius wanted to tell the rabbi that Harpy HADN'T really reverted to evil; that she was on a secret mission, and had not stopped loving her husband. What he said was: "Alphonse is a magnificent man. He survived war, and he'll survive this."


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Speaking of being a detective, Batfellow NEVER CEASED being one.

He was in Central Municipality now. On the evening of the day when Flatwing spoke with the rabbi over in Oregon, he set out on the back streets in full regalia. He had not done this often during the current tour of states west of the Mississippi-- because, if there was anyone left in the Western Hemisphere who DIDN'T know that Brutus Dwayne was Batfellow, they might put it together when they learned that Batfellow was showing himself in cities that Brutus visited. But he had a hunch that he might have cause to BE Batfellow tonight.

Striding noiselessly along the alley behind a block of warehouses, Batfellow faintly heard movement around a corner. Instead of continuing in that direction, he did a pedestrian Bat-turn and sought a detour to reach the same place. Whoever he had heard, had moved on; but Batfellow's night-vision goggles detected cigarette ashes on the pavement. Their smell was unlike any tobacco (or the other stuff) the Caped Campaigner had ever encountered, and they served almost as footprints. He conjectured that the unknown smoker had been looking for someone or waiting for something. These thoughts had barely taken form before Batfellow took to the rooftops.

Eventually, he caught another sniff of the unusual cigarette smoke. The only pedestrian smoking nearby was a man who looked Chinese. Batfellow immediately remembered Kenny Garth Jones telling him how strangers who might be Triad gangsters had been terrorizing United States citizens of Chinese ancestry.

> > > > > > > > > > >

Ralph Shao was a vacation planner for tourists coming to the United States from the ancestral Middle Kingdom. These tourists tended to be the families of high executives in Chinese corporations-- which is to say, important members of the Chinese Communist Party. The China on Seedubb was in this respect identical to the China on Original Earth: you didn't GET to be a corporate leader without Party membership.

Ralph had no connection with Dwayne Industries; he was merely rendering peripheral assistance to agents who had their own undisclosed access to Brutus Dwayne's industrial domain. Several of the warehouses in this district belonged to companies with which Brutus did business, but Ralph had had the good sense not to ask what role those other companies might be playing in the current operation. He was here tonight only to receive orders.

A man called Tu Shin-Tai would meet him soon. Ralph would have to remember not to appear curious about anything.
 
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Batfellow had rescued innocent civilians from immediate harm countless times. But since he could not be everyplace at once, there were limits on his ability to protect anyone from a threat which might linger and hover for years on end.

If the man with the foreign cigarettes was being kept under a shadow by agents of Beijing, or by Triad gangsters, capturing and jailing whatever thug was right on the scene at this very moment would not make the man safe with any certainty. In fact, it would only make matters WORSE for the poor man, if the gang or government behind the front-thug perceived the innocent man as consciously helping Batfellow. On the other hand, if Batfellow "obviously" just happened along by chance......

A store owner was baffled, but also delighted, to have Batfellow purchase two bagfuls of smart phones from him. Two local teenage boys felt the same when Batfellow hired them to pull a trick. He promised that each of them could keep two of the phones if they took part in his trick. The remaining phones, if not broken, would be returned to the store and could be sold again. The crimefighter also contacted the local police by his own special channel, transmitting photographs of the boys and saying: "If you see these boys appearing to flee with loot, and me chasing them, DO NOT arrest them; but you PRETENDING to chase them is okay, if you have the time for it. The kids are honest, and will not have actually stolen anything. They are helping me on a case, which I'll tell you more about later."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Are these shipping dates confirmed?" Tu Shin-Tai growled. "The Party is impatient to relieve that round-eyed running dog Brutus Dwayne of some of his undeserved wealth."

Ralph Shao, who worked for a freight company which did business with Dwayne Industries, was in fact being extorted to cooperate with Chinese agents. Red China possessed enough advanced electronics, stolen from America, to have done all contacts with Ralph remotely-- if not for the fact that Spark Laboratories had means to break into their secure comms. Thus, a return to old-fashioned gangster- and spy-movie basics had been indicated. What Mister Tu was talking about was a variety of micro-circuited equipment which Lex Loozor and Red Headbone, respected guests of the Party, had requested for their work.

"Here, sir, this flash drive contains encryption keys with which you can confirm the confidential schedule."

"Well done, Ralph."

The spy had barely pocketed the flash drive before noises of running and shouting burst upon his ears.
 
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The boys carrying their sacks of supposed loot swerved into the alley so abruptly, it was as if they had the Quickness Force. Tu Shin-Tai had better self-discipline than to draw and shoot at children; but his calm was shaken at the sight of who came after them.

Batfellow purposely didn't look directly at the adult men in the alley; he wasn't supposed to know there was anything untoward here. He did yell at them, "Look out!" If Shin-Tai had made a move against him, Batfellow would have taken him down, and hopefully the spy's handlers would have concluded that the encounter had nothing to do with Mister Shao's predicament becoming known. It was for the best, however, that Shin-Tai didn't lose his nerve. He and Ralph Shao simply got out of Batfellow's way as the hero kept on chasing the boys. Mister Shao thus did not fall out of favor with his oppressors. But Batfellow left a little gift for the spy-extortionist; an almost invisibly tiny transceiver.

"So that is Batfellow," Shin-Tai smirked. "Good for chasing petty thieves, but runs right past the man he should have wanted to detain." The spy was reassured by realizing that Mister Shao had not had the slightest inkling of Batfellow being around.

Batfellow, meanwhile, got well out of sight before telling the boys they could stop fleeing. He would have a trace on the spy's movements at least for a while, without Mister Shao being in any trouble with his unwanted overlords.

Using a top-security satellite channel: "Alphonse, Virgil, get a fix on the tracing device just now activated. This man almost certainly is involved in smuggling equipment taken from us, for the use of the Chinese military. This could be a break in our search for Goldfinch and Marysuefire."

After some delay, Alphonse called back to say, "Harpy is making progress, too. She's got a new gang already. Tightrope Tito and Glueface are in it, and they're trying to enlist some smuggling specialists."
 
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The city of Spectrum Springs, on Planet Alwaysurnia, had paradoxically flourished, at least in the short term. With Mighty Male and Sorcery Lass missing, and all authority structures in disarray, hundreds of common families from less-well-ordered communities were gravitating to Spectrum Springs. The old soldier Dolph Bluntgrin and the science teacher Neverditziya, not formally elected to any office but enjoying the trust of everyone who knew them, were maintaining order and civility in a population more diverse than anything which could exist on Original Earth-- since Alwaysurnia was home to several different SPECIES of sapient beings.

The number of fixed-position particle-beam cannon mounts guarding the city-- each with a swivel arc a little more than half a circle-- had been doubled since the last post that mentioned them. The first three fixed weapons, placed at the points of a triangle, were facing outward; the new trio, at Dolph's urging, were oriented inward. The idea was that the new cannons would be able to shoot at airborne threats directly above the town, as well as hitting targets just beyond the city limits on the far side. The weapon barrels could be depressed to fire at ground targets, but their main mission was expected to be air defense.

With the help of a dozen Workasauruses, residential structures and other vulnerable targets like the local hospitals were being strengthened. The idea was to deflect falling debris from any destroyed enemy aircraft, to which end sloping roofs were added. This being a multi-purpose fantasy planet, a plotline-convenient grove of battery trees existed near the city, promising electrical power for the beam weapons.

Also plotline-convenient was a friendly metahuman lady named Subsoila. A pleasant-looking full-figured woman usually, Subsoila could morph into a beast resembling a gigantic mole, though not blind. Her clothing would be absorbed into her fur when changing human-to-animal, then would emerge as clothing again when she went animal-to-human. She had by now excavated several underground shelters and evacuation tunnels for the townspeople. Corporal Bluntgrin, moreover, was working with Subsoila to design a pattern of pitfall traps to catch hostile ground troops.

On a day when battery-fruits were being stockpiled for the beam weapons, a sky-bike descended toward Spectrum Springs, carrying False Teerifica, whom people still believed to be Actual Teerifica. Whether by chance or design, she landed at a moment when she could get the attention of Neverditziya, Dolph and Subsoila simultaneously.

"Schoolmistress! Corporal! Specialist! All of you stand at rigid attention, relax at ease, shut your mouths, tell me everything, listen carefully, forget it all, confess your faults, love yourselves, gather the people together, and keep this a secret!"

"In which order, Lady Teerifica?" asked Dolph Bluntgrin.

"Never mind!" the impostor snapped. "Just explain to me why you have created a battery of assault weapons!"

"My lady, no weapon can be considered an assault weapon if it is on a fixed mount. You must have seen for yourself, on aerial approach, that the beam weapons are unmovable, unless uprooted from the revetments."

False Teerifica suddenly backhanded Dolph across the face, hard enough to stagger him. Neverditziya and Subsoila froze in shock.

"Corporal, if you still were active duty, I would bust you to private for insubordination! OBVIOUSLY the artillery is on fixed mounts. And why IS it on fixed mounts? You should understand that those weapons are nearly useless unless you can move them from place to place!"

"My lady, we wouldn't even HAVE those weapons, if all of us hadn't pooled our savings and resources to build them. We have never been allocated any military funds, and we had no money left to build self-propelled artillery vehicles from scratch."

False Teerifica hit him again, harder, and he fell on his back. "So you're CONFESSING how you embezzled all of the generous funding I personally arranged for your city's defense! Listen here, soldier, being retired is no excuse for disobeying regulations!"

From where he lay, Dolph Bluntgrin could see that both of his friends were about to protest. Before they could say anything, he blurted out: "You see through everything, wise Teerifica! I can't fool you! Yes, I confess, I did steal for myself all of the money that you provided for mobile artillery! Then I squandered it all to buy sporting equipment. But Neverditziya and Subsoila knew nothing about my crimes; because I'm a misogynistic patriarchal caveman, I assumed that they were too stupid to assist in my scheme."

The impostor's face beamed with cruel pleasure. "I knew it! I came here to expose Corporal Bluntgrin! Rejoice, ladies, I have rescued you from exploitation! Although it's partly your fault for not denouncing him sooner. Never mind, you're both needed here. Bring me something to tie him up."

After Dolph had been flown away as a prisoner, Neverditziya broke her silence. "THAT, Subsoila, absolutely IS NOT Teerifica."

The mole-woman sighed. "And Dolph took the heat for us, so we would be free to do something."

"I wish I knew WHAT to do."
 
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Not on Alwaysurnia but in the same star system, the skull-faced warrior-mage Skamartistor still was hiding out in the pretense that he had been defeated. He had a convenient lair on Planet Gagspoon, which resembled fantasy versions of Mars. The six-limbed natives, mighty by the scale of their native gravity well but weaker than people from an Earth-size world like Alwaysurnia, worshiped and obeyed him. It was one of these natives who awakened Skamartistor to announce a visit by the evil immortal Soreheadmort.

"Hello, youngster!" exclaimed the one who hated being named because he thought "Soreheadmort" sounded ridiculous. "I bring you affectionate salutations from the rightful King and Queen of Alwaysurnia. Just kidding; after years in an extra-dimensional prison, they would take your head for a bowling ball if they could get at you. But tell me, how are you getting on with the Naughtygators?"

"Splendidly, mighty one. You were SO right when you said I would benefit by magically duplicating The Jalapeno from Planet Srirachiss. Cosmodart and his colleagues were terrified that they would run out of their empowering substance, now that good guys have raided the leading world synthesizing it, on top of the Ashtrayides controlling the only planet where it occurs naturally. With my being able to supply it, the Spaced-Out Guild will gladly do my bidding. It's just a matter of bringing Naughtygators together with a suitable army they can transport for me, and then I can possess my planet indefinitely. Maybe even throw out Crowdhack and assume the rulership of Anoxia too."

"And what do you consider a suitable army?"

"My lord, your boundless knowledge makes it unconvincing for you to play ignorant. You are well aware of the restraining influence which plagues us evildoers on these two cartoonish planets. It is difficult-- not quite impossible, but VERY hard-- for us to summon the force of will to KILL anyone on purpose. What I could use is warriors who AREN'T reluctant to destroy life. Most battles between us and the good guys on these planets amount to scarcely more than petulant shoving matches. Not the most effective way to keep worlds in fear and submission."

"You're right, Skamartistor. Even we immortal fiends feel some of that restraint-- although for us, it's a matter of conscious fear."

Skamartistor's eyes-- or his eye SOCKETS, which nonetheless could see-- widened. "What are you saying, mighty one? What can YOU be afraid of?"

"I hate to admit it, Skammy boy, but Copperfox is writing that I do say it, so I have to say this: we are afraid of the Creator. By which I don't mean Copperfox; he's only a SUB-creator, as that accursed fellow Tolkien would put it. Beings like me are allowed to cause plenty of mayhem and grief, because it makes the good guys look good; but if we go too far, the One Whom we hate supremely might decide to squash us like bugs."

The skull-faced villain shook his head. "So the multiverse ISN'T only a product of meaningless random chance?"

"Nope. Whatever we say to confuse mortals, good and evil DO have an eternal significance, and Someone IS keeping score. But again, SOME homicide is permitted, because epic saga of good against evil; and you probably wouldn't need very much bloodshed to intimidate the wimpy inhabitants of Alwaysurnia and Anoxia. So here's what I'll do: I'll contact Cosmodart personally, and help him to select murder-capable evil warriors from someplace or other, whom he can transport here to serve under your banner. And I'll make sure that, while effective in war, these evil reinforcements won't be SO tough as individuals that any of them would dare to try to overthrow YOU."

 
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WE INTERRUPT THIS ADVENTURE SAGA TO PROVIDE A LINK I JUST FOUND. IT SUMMARIZES THE UNHAPPY LIFE OF HOWARD PHILLIPS LOVECRAFT, ONE OF THE DARKEST IN MOOD OF ALL HORROR AUTHORS. HE MADE EDGAR ALLEN POE SEEM JOLLY AND CHEERFUL. THE WAY LOVECRAFT CAME TO VIEW EXISTENCE IS EXACTLY THE THING I'M FIGHTING AGAINST IN MY CURRENT STORY. AFTERWARDS, I'LL RETURN TO "SPACEBULLIES."

 
As we return to the cartooniverse, note that the appearance of the syllable "SPEC" in two unrelated names is pure coincidence.

On a jungle-covered part of Alwaysurnia, very far from Spectrum Springs, the two Lazytaxies working with Skamartistor were prospecting for exotic plants, which could potentially be used to create useful drugs and chemical reactants. Specularkus was mainly checking out hanging vines and ground foliage, while his wife Negafemina concentrated on the leaves and bark of trees. Both of the scientific pseudo-magicians wore jet packs, in case they needed to escape from any sudden peril.

"Look at the bark on this tree!" Negafemina suddenly exclaimed. "What does it remind you of?"

She was already activating a biochemical sensor device as her husband looked closely. He told her, "It reminds me of those trees on Planet Rustynayle, the ones they called 'Animosity Trees'."

"Exactly. An extract from those trees could make people become angry over nothing."

"I get it. If these trees can produce the same craziness, we can find ways for this to make this work to Skamartistor's advantage."

Negafemina held up a hand. "But only if the locals don't already know about the effect."

"I see what you mean. But maybe we still could use an anger-stimulator even if Alwaysurnians DO know about the source of it. Like, if someone Skamartistor hates were to host a formal banquet, and we tainted the food with animosity enzyme. The fact of people knowing WHAT the drug was, would not let the host off the hook for LETTING the stuff be slipped into the food."

"Good line of thought, Specky. We might even time such an incident so that someone in our camp can save the day."

Specularkus' face lit up. "Especially someone who NEEDS HELP with becoming popular."

Lazytaxies were majorly skillful in all aspects of chemistry, and the couple soon determined that the trees in question could yield an animosity formula. Skamartistor's right-hand evil sorceress Ickylinn helped Negafemina and Specularkus to concoct the finished product in a hurry. Ickylinn also cast a temporary spell on False Teerifica, to stop her from being unreasonable and irritable.

The end result? In an Alwaysurnian city with population over eighty thousand, several hundred persons were trying to FORGET conflict and unrest by stagjng a pleasant, relaxed picnic..... but suddenly all started fighting each other. This was the cue for a chilled-out False Teerifica to intervene. Under Ickylinn's enchantment, False Teerifica acted the way ACTUAL Teerifica would have done: breaking up fights without hurting anyone herself, doing her level best to prevent anyone from being harmed.

This did indeed help False Teerifica to convince the civilian population that she was the good girl. The residents of Spectrum Springs were still upset over her conduct, but many other Alwaysurnians were fooled.
 
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Around this time, on Planet Anoxia, technicians of The Mob were on watch in a fortress on the eastern shore of the same ocean which contained the special island of neutrality and negotiation. Underwater sonar arrays, with superb software to interpret sounds detected in the water, spotlighted a sukmerged shape which had to be Equivvalentor, the Dragon of Reasonableness. They would have felt like doomed Japanese soldiers in an old Godzilla movie, had they not known that Equivvalentor had no desire to kill or hurt anyone on either side.

Presently, a mighty voice emerged straight from their sonar gear:

"Minions of Crowdhack, I am the peaceful dragon. I need to speak with your overlord. This may be done face to face, or by telecommunications. I will wait offshore."

When his underlings notified him, Crowdhack acknowledged, opting for long-distance dialogue. He tried to appear as if he were too important to be inconvenienced, and as if he were doing the dragon a favor by consenting to speak with him EVEN at long distance. But Crowdhack's most trusted advisors knew that Equivvalentor was one of the very few beings short of Deity whom Crowdhack WAS afraid of.

"To be direct," rumbled the dragon, "I want to know whether YOU know what Skamartistor is doing over in his star system."

Crowdhack replied, "My impression was that my counterpart isn't in a position TO do much now. Although he managed to slay Mighty Male, he still was chased off his planet."

"I'm aware that you are not as friendly with Skamartistor as the good guys on Anoxia are with good guys on Alwaysurnia."

"You are the Dragon of UNDERSTATEMENT. Skammy is insufferable, with his constant bragging that his magic supposedly is better than my science. Are you about to tell me that Skammy is in a better spot than we thought he was?"

"It is as you say, Crowdhack. I will go so far as to inform you that Skamartistor enjoys recently-obtained outside help. I mean very much outside. People from a world you never heard of before have recently attached themselves to him, bringing their own distinct contributions."

Equivvalentor fell silent.

"Is that all you're going to tell me?"

"I'll give you one more puzzle piece. As outsiders from far away have signed on with Skamartistor, so the missing Sorcery Lass is alive, but has GONE far away. Make of this what you will." Then the Dragon of Reasonableness departed for his island.
 
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As he swam homeward for Paxifica in an unhurried manner, Equivvalentor heard an underwater version of the angry grunting and panting that always arose when good people and bad people visiting his island got into the bloodless little skirmishes which he allowed them to have as emotional venting. Lazily veering toward the noises, he was already pretty sure that he was hearing the two non-fishtailed mer-ladies who had recently enjoyed their latest series of one-sided battles outside the coffeeshop on his island.

Sure enough, Surfenbirda the good girl and Tunafishla the bad girl were free-floating close to each other, having a bizarre slow-motion fistfight. At the depth and pressure where they were, it would have been extremely difficult for either of them to swing FAST. Seeming to take turns on purpose, they took four or five seconds to deliver each single punch to the other's head or body. Neither of them, even bad-girl Tunafishla who always lost in the end, had so far suffered even the teeniest little bit of damage. They were not so engrossed in their joke of a fight as not to hear the peacemaking dragon's approach; they went on swinging fists while they turned to look at him.

"Miss Tunafishla? Miss Surfenbirda? You do realize that you are far from the diplomatic island, right? Not that I wish either of you to be injured, but you make me curious. You are no more seriously fighting now than if you WERE on my island. Are you training for future clashes, or what?"

"Sort of training, I guess," the bad girl replied, completely unaffected by two meaningless blows to her flat stomach. "You know as well as anyone does that our sub-reality requires most combats to be non-lethal. But this isn't a joke; we do have a dispute."

Surfenbirda took it up from there. "Yes, we're arguing about matters of nutrition and diet. I correctly maintain that, when eating meals on dry land, it is highly appropriate to have pineapple on pizza. But this despicable twit has the nerve to CONTRADICT me on such an obvious point of fact!" Tunafishla's slo-mo fists landed on Surfenbirda's face four times during that speech, without even distorting one word the good girl spoke.

"Um, all right," rumbled the Dragon of Reasonableness. "As you were. I wish that every battle on my planet were as vicious as this one is."
 
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Nitara "Golden Rakshasa" Bagram, still on Planet Awkwardlisp, was notified that Arush "Flying Elephant" Vhani would shortly return by wormhole with his new bride Jelisaveta. The recently-married good sorceress Zoorama Slippage, and the scientist Greensodd, were with Nitara when the honeymoon couple set foot on the liberated world.

"Namaste," said Jelisaveta, as matter-of-factly as if she had already flown to alien planets dozens of times. After all, she had seen aliens invading her own world, and that occasion had been as disastrous for her as the current excursion was upbeat and hopeful.

"I am privileged to meet you, Mistress Vhani," Greensodd crooned. "I am humbly grateful for the mercy I was granted, but I can truthfully tell you that I had no hand in the Shadythings tampering with your face."

"I believe you. Doing a faithful job of helping me deal with my 'decorations' will surely improve your karma in your next life."

Standing close to his bride, Arush looked Greensodd in the eyes with a cold smile. "Yes, you'll probably get to be a bird instead of a worm."

"And maybe NOT a carrion crow," Nitara put in with a more cheerful smile.

Zoorama tapped Nitara's shoulder. "What do you think, shall I change him INTO a few different birds, so he can decide which one he would rather become?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Elsewhere on Awkwardlisp, Deepak Sengupta, head of all Stork Enterprises operations in India, was with Zoorama's husband Kirk "Doc" Slippage. Both of them had spent many hours examining the flying saucer which the late Granny Rudeness had used; now they were discussing the merits of starship travel versus wormhole travel.

"Our Earth," said Mister Sengupta, "will not be economically ready to manufacture interstellar vessels independently, even slower-than-light hibernation ships, for many more years. The theoretical ability isn't enough, we need to have the material means. By contrast, since we now control Awkwardlisp, we could send a diplomatic delegation to any known Earth-variant by dimensional tunnel five minutes after we had the diplomats chosen and brought here. Then, AFTER first contact was made, there would always be the chance that those humans would share spaceship designs of their own with us."

"However," Doc Slippage replied, "the Earth-variant that we've decided was the best prospect is one which WAS INVADED BY aliens using dimensional tunnels. If we want to create goodwill from the get-go, we'll do better to approach visibly in ships, with radio hails activated hours or days ahead of our landing, explaining who we are long before we enter atmosphere."

"Your concerns are valid, but we have someone available for first contact who could satisfy everyone at the other end of her benevolent intentions. And who could brush off any violence attempted against her."

"You clearly have the singer Whiskey Dallas in mind. Right now, I understand that she's over by the Kibralo Sea-- that's the worst sea in the Watery Tetrahedron-- letting members of the Surrender Council see how she can survive monster attacks unhurt....."
 
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