Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

[Copperfox]

The four small oceans of Awkwardlisp had long been pure horror, full of monsters. In three of the four, Truthside had caused most of the monsters to be exterminated as painlessly as possible. Nine or ten specimens of each type had been relocated to the one "untreated" ocean, while populations of edible sea creatures were established in the three "purified" oceans.

At the hour when an aircar brought Clean Hornet to meet Sullivan Grungy, the reformed monster was marching around the floor of the largest wholesome ocean, observing the condition of the introduced life-forms. Using a comms device provided by Kemptilly, Hornet sent a projected image of himself, asking Sullivan to come ashore.

"Mister Grungy, we haven't met, but my name is Rhett McBride, and I'm associated with your former enemies on Urth. I know that you have experience with powerful artifacts, if only in the form of Mirror Merchant's mirrors. Right now, a young Urthian called Matthew Carver, employed by Vigilant Cowboy, possesses a MAJOR artifact, whose powers are still being studied. We believe that it can strengthen you in your new-found goodness; and Urth will need the service you can perform."

Sullivan raised an eyebrow. "In any case, it would please me to make Urth a safer world. But how is my service ESPECIALLY vital?"

"Some of your former partners in crime somehow preserved tissue of yours; I don't know if shed by your present body, or sampled in the past from a previous body. But we're ninety-nine percent convinced that two or more clones of you now exist on Urth."

The tall quasi-golem's responding smile was more human than any onlooker would have anticipated. "I'll need to clear it with King Truthside; I owe him an enormous debt of gratitude. But I'm pretty sure he'll give me permission for such a unique errand. Now, tell me more about the artifact now in the keeping of Greg Sutter's young employee....."

 

[Copperfox]

Looking again at the Stars Wars-ish events, we bring back the mercenary Blastodon Kroof, Lackdough Caribbyan's friend. Blastodon had worked informally with the Imperial officer Shrinkdin Trush, whose daughter Siskeli had acquired Fuss talents. Now he was getting into capers with a new tough-chick character, "Quaint Vestige," who seemed to have sprung up from no place in particular. Reasonably good-looking, and remarkably persuasive with anyone who didn't consciously resist her influence, she told Blastodon early in their acquaintance that she had been granted strong charisma by an unspecified plotline-convenient alien. She didn't reveal that her benefactress was the ugly and spiteful demi-human Headless Lizzie, who was the mentor of the far-more-attractive but-just-as-wicked Jackalbyte.

First meeting at Cloud Casino, Quaint and Blastodon heard, from Lackdough's robot assistant, an account of how a Glugfin girl from Planet Kantpoo discovered a Harmonicron in the pond beside an Up-Side Fuss Temple on Powurkord. This had occurred shortly before the war against the Quark-Elves, but those villains had been chased away by the combined efforts of numerous heroes.

"There might be more fantasy-compatible items to be found," Quaint said to Blastodon, as they flew toward Powurkord. "We could get rich." Her symbiote- mascot "Snicker," an intelligent alien beast about the size of a Maine Coon cat, behaved as if he understood all she said and thought it was a great idea. Snicker had six ears. The foremost two actually were extra smell organs, while the middle and hind ears combined could hear a huge sound- frequency range. These sensory advantages would have kept him from being helpless if he had lost his eyesight.

"Pause right here," the mercenary told the tough-chick. "I haven't kept my freedom by habitually antagonizing legitimate authorities. Any item of interest for which a living rightful owner can be determined, I will have no part in stealing."

"No worries, we will proceed as you wish. I realize it's better in the long view to be on cordial terms with at least SOME governments. We can make overtures to the Heptagorta, that's the elected ruling council on Powurkord. Charge a fee for locating lost whatevers."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Traveling by boat brought the trio to the north-temperate-zone city of Norvoz. This was by a suggestion from Blastodon: "That transportation official Tulsi Blash told me about a Norvozan lady named Framtovi Penwin, who's advancing a fascinating project for literature."

"What, literature about treasure hunting?" Quaint had asked.

"Possibly just that. Miss Penwin wants to revive books ON PAPER. This by itself argues that she is fascinated with antiquity; and if she makes a go of revived hard-copy publishing, she might bring into circulation some seriously old writings which never made it into electronic media."

"Now I get it. Those old writings might provide clues to lost valuables."

At no time so far had Quaint admitted that she was covertly in touch with Headless Lizzie AND Jackalbyte, because she secretly favored the plan of those evil metahumans to ensure that Blastodon received no credit for any success. Snicker would be able to receive and interpret secret signals from her man-hating allies, without Blastodon's knowledge.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Spacer Swimmers, who mostly hung around "Non-Communist Anime Earth," had something or other to deal with on that Earth-variant; we can just assume that they'll take care of it. But since many of their plain-human friends had become involved with events on Powurkord, they found two volunteers to join in the action there: Masked Biker from their Earth's Japan, and the armor-wearing Filipino crimefighter Combatalot. These men were delivered to where they could find their comrade Bahavish Ogoshi.

"Namaste," the swordsman greeted them. "Have you been briefed by the Spacer Swimmers? Because I honestly don't know yet where there's an evil situation that we should be dealing with."

But the Japanese and the Filipino had no information to offer the Indian. We'll get back to them after I decide what guidance they'll receive.

 

[Copperfox]

Notice: if I have goofed up anyplace and said that Jackalbyte and Headless Lizzie are at liberty and present on Powurkord, please disregard it. They're not! I previously wrote that those two evildoers had been placed in the custody of the FORMER spoiled super-brat Antimerica Chutzpah, so she can teach them repentance and goodness.

>>>> I expect to have Bahavish Ogoshi, who is becoming a Jedi-type, vaguely sense the hidden badness in Quaint.

As for Quaint communicating with Lizzie and Jackalbyte, we can say that she BRIEFLY achieved some kind of contact, but Antimerica soon detected it and blocked it, so the two former villainesses in her care were not prevented from being converted to goodness.

 

[Copperfox]

Among all residents of Powurkord, more had gone on interstellar voyages into Republic space than on rocket-driven space trips within their system. And since the Spacer Swimmers and other otherworldly heroes had thwarted the invasion by Quark-Lord Maltibalkrix, Powurkordeans had become still more interested in distant stars.

But there was plenty of work to be done within their own star system, and other benign outsiders were lending a hand here. The Heptagorta, the planet's elected ruling council, had no objection to this, as the most prominent outsiders had already earned local good will before now.

An out-system businessman asked: "Commissioner Vrosheb, what's your latest estimate of locally-owned spacecraft suitable for the venture?"

"Since they don't need to be lightspeed-capable, I'm confident that my own island province can finance one in-system transport, net load capacity nearly three times that of your hyperspace-going merchant vessel. That, and four workhorse boats, two-seaters, to take part in asteroid penetration."

Woodrow Ackerman, an African-American human from "Coalition Earth" (in the "Bubblewrap Five" sub-reality), nodded. He was no stranger to the Republic of Lots of Worlds and its near-neighbor planets. He was on board his armed space freighter Queen Yessa, named for his wife of the human-like Braykpedduli race. (Yessa had fallen in love with Woodrow after he got injured saving her life during a space emergency.) The ship rode in a synchronized orbit among the system's asteroids.

Woodrow and his mixed-species crew had a Powurkordean passenger: the above-quoted Filibreck Vrosheb, a mining overseer on the Powurkordean island of Kremdilkrem. Filibrek, as one of the most far-sighted people on his island, had long mulled the question of what Kremdilkremmers would do when their native ore deposits were exhausted, which might happen within another twenty-five Powurkordean years. Woodrow had written up a proposal for joint ventures in asteroid mineral extraction. Given proper technology, the system's asteroids and minor moons would yield enough metals and other deposits for every likely requirement over most of a century to come, even before factoring in reclamation and recycling. Then it would be on-planet minerals which were the backup reserve.

OH-kayy, more consistency-salvaging to be done, because I have SO MANY RESPONSIBILITIES in the real world requiring my attention. I see that back in July, I wrote a dialogue scene very similar to the one in THIS post. Everybody just assume that Woodrow has had lots of meetings with responsible persons on this autonomous planet; and business procedures really can involve people repeating stuff they said earlier. Yeah, Woodrow DOES achieve mutually satisfactory contracts with Powurkordeans, probably not limited to the Kremdilkremmers.

There's also a Powurkordean systems programmer named Spadfitch, who previously had the force of will to break free of the video-game addiction which plagued this planet. Spadfitch now gets to play a part in building the new asteroid- exploitation industry. Because I said so.

 

[Copperfox]

Tridmorth, a Powurkordean city not mentioned before in the Never-Stopping Story, was located in the cooler-temperate southern latitudes. Its society was pretty much like real-world Wisconsin, if you add a few robots, jet packs, rayguns, aircars, and visiting Goldarns from the Babylon Five-based sub-universe. One Goldarn male not connected with Woodrow Ackerman's projects was in Tridmorth, exploring the prospects for an agricultural venture. His one link to events mentioned earlier was his local human contact: Osfellic Shemliska, whose distant relatives were currently sponsoring Bahavish Ogoshi as a martial-arts instructor.

"You have my attention," said Osfellic to the Goldarn. "I never heard of Planet Riggblit, except in a short, sad news item saying that Up-Side Master Nonsmoka Tiptoe died heroically there, defending the defenseless against holdouts for the Empire of Evil Badness."

"So she did," replied J'Vurst, making a kind of prayer-or-salute gesture with both hands. "One reason why Thuglyfe Skrawn's allies came to Riggblit was the vegetation. I have specimens of Riggblitter vegetation on my ship; it has been tested and found to pose no danger to your ecology. Many trees and succulent plants on Riggblit produce a sap which can be consumed by practically all oxygen-breathing herbivores or omnivores, and is highly nutritious. One type or another of my botanical samples can thrive in any region of your planet, short of the extreme frigid zones and even-more-extreme deserts. They can perhaps be planted in tracts of land which have not been deemed suitable for your accustomed food crops."

"I'm interested," said Osfellic to his vaguely reptilian-looking visitor. "But let's pause a while, so Copperfox can transport the narrative back to where Combatalot and Masked Biker have joined up with Bahavish Ogoshi. Then see if their actions can be plausibly made to connect with ours."

"He probably should remind people how Powurkordean society was disrupted by the crime spree of the Cosmic Fact-Checkers."

"That's all right, you just did that; and there were a few of them around here once."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There weren't any Quark-Orcs loose on the planet anymore, but of course ordinary crime still could occur. In anticipation of rural operations, Masked Biker had brought his most offroad- capable motorcycle. Bahavish by now had progressed enough in The Fuss that he could perform very respectable telekinesis, especially if it didn't require high elevation. Tying one end of a stout rope to the rear of Biker's saddle, Bahavish had his Filipino comrade hang on, while Bahavish held the rope. Levitating to a height just above Biker's helmet made the two passengers virtually weightless as far as the burden on the motorcycle's engine was concerned. Masked Biker thus hauled his fellow heroes across the landscape, like inflated figures in a parade.

One day of patrolling was unproductive, and the heroes camped out on a suitable site. The next day, breakfasting on an equivalent of granola bars, they resumed their sweep. That afternoon, The Fuss gave Bahavish an intuition of where some outlaws were lurking.

When they spotted four cabins, constituting the bandits' lair, Bahavish and Masked Biker flanked around them. Combatalot marched openly toward the hideout, calling on the felons to yield and submit to arrest. They opened fire instead. Combatalot's armor had recently been fitted with damage sensors, allowing him to determine the moment when he needed to take cover before the beams and bullets penetrated. He lasted long enough to let the other two heroes fall upon the crooks by surprise.

In brief, the Fuss-gifted swordsman and the nunchaku-using motorcyclist captured all of the robbers alive, then contacted local authorities to come and perform the official arrest. A good amount of loot was returned to its rightful owners, and the three heroes gained local prestige.

 

[Copperfox]

The above-mentioned local authorities had been joined by a Banjolorian family of the helmets-not-required faction. Colbirk Rezgo, a widowed father who had been in on the defense against Lord Maltibalkrix's invasion, was joined by his warrior-trained daughters. Varilu, the elder daughter, was not far from adolescence by now, and her little sister Lotraloi had lately taken up training with rifle-sized weapons. The girls greeted Bahavish, whose name was known to them, and were fascinated by Masked Biker and Combatalot, of whom they had never even heard before. They briefly mistook the Filipino hero for a fellow Banjolorian.

The freshly-arrested robbers were not associated with any bigger gang, so the non-Powurkordeans left them to be handled by Powurkordeans. They traveled over to Tridmorth, having learned that Planet Goldarnit had commercial representatives doing business there. The Rezgoes had heard mostly good things about Goldarns, and most residents of Tridmorth had heard good things about Banjolorians.

J'Vurst the Goldarn entrepreneur, and his local human contact Osfellic Shemliska, met Colbirk and the rest. A plain-looking but well-dressed young human woman was with them. Gesturing to her, Osfellic told the new arrivals, "This is Heptor Louise Volobi, the newest member of our planetary council. Heptor, if you please--?"

"Welcome to all of you," said Louise. "Powurkord has received much benefit from the Banjolorian fellowship, and from Anime Earth." She indicated the Goldarn, who bowed formally. Louise continued: "The Goldarns are negotiating a deal with Tridmorther investors, to introduce agricultural products which are verified to be ecologically harmless. You have perhaps heard of Planet Riggblit?"

When Colbirk nodded, J'Vurst took up the explanation. "Riggblit has no native-born sapient species, but four different races have shared that world amicably for some years, joined recently by a limited number of more human-like people. One of the races-- a chubby blue-skinned people with long snouts, like Jabba's house-band keyboard player in Return of the Jedi --is detailing some of their number to oversee new plantations around Tridmorth. Despite Powurkord being more or less quiet now, those blue folks are naturally timid. They know that Banjolorians observe a firm code of honor; thus, Mister Rezgo, they would feel much safer if you and your daughters would sign on as a security team for their new orchard-land."

"Sounds like a plan," replied Colbirk, "though I can't answer for the Anime Earthlings."

"Biker, Combatalot and I can join in for at least a few days," said Bahavish.

 

[Copperfox]

\\\\\\ Y'know what? It's past time we returned to the "Heyho" subplot.

I think you've seen me refer to a Congregation attack on Earth which was not entirely successful; but you haven't seen me recently mentioning HOW humans avoided being wiped out. It had utterly slipped my mind that I had brought in Master Drool from the Bubblewrap Coalition, who manages the Great Artifact of Upsydaisylon with the aid of his cloned "Flapjack" workers. Drool, a native of Planet Mintcandybarr, had brought warning to Jackman Hughes. Drool had then provided this reality's version of Earth with a simple yet vital game-changer, something which existing human industry could make.

Evil-alien spacecraft relied on plasma weapons, because plasma weapons (as opposed to linear BEAM weapons) have been trendy in Original Earth sci-fi for twenty years or longer. The insane heat applied by a large blast of plasma would almost instantly dissolve the strongest physical hull armor that human shipbuilders could make. But Master Drool's idea would give human warships time to get their missiles fired at hostile ships BEFORE the aliens could incinerate the U.C. vessels. Each defending ship was accompanied on all sides by gigantic loose plates of ship armor from their own shipyards, tethered with tractor beams.

The shielding innovation served as what military experts call a force multiplier. When the Congregation fleet invaded the Heyho Solar System, its opening volleys only destroyed the mobile shields, not the actual ships. Thus, EVERY defending ship was able to get off a heavy missile barrage before ANY human ship was even damaged. In the end, while Earth still did suffer substantial harm, the evil aliens also suffered badly, so they could not after all depopulate this Earth-variant. A partial victory for humanity was better than being wiped out. There was probably some ground fighting, like the corresponding events in canonical Halo, but anyway, Earth survived.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The vitally important world of Stretch, where Johnny-747 and his peers had been trained under the oversight of Carolyn Fallacy, was creeping back toward normalcy: in spite of, not because of, Acting Planetary Governor Yvette Nidlovu. Yvette was the sort of woman who, on Original Earth, would study for a PhD in painting abstract pictures. Hard-working humans and human-friendly aliens mostly ignored the governor; but when feeling the need for a laugh, some would always attend public speeches, in which Yvette always preached that BOTH sides in any dispute were ALWAYS equally at fault.

This routine went on until, one night, several colonists using excellent stealth and camouflage technology broke into the gubernatorial bungalow. Surrounding her as she lay in bed, and having voice-distortion gear, the intruders told her in substance: "Consider this, Governor Nidlovu. BY YOUR OWN REASONING, if we were to inflict bodily damage on you here and now, YOU WOULD BE EQUALLY GUILTY for your own injuries as we would be."

Yvette, grateful to be unharmed when the visit ended, canceled her scheduled future lectures, and passed word to administrators on Planet Bigspoke that she had accomplished her noble purposes on Stretch, and was ready to move along to the next frontier planet that needed her sophisticated enlightenment.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A successor for Miss Nidlovu proved easy to find: a male born to the Yettisquatch race, hairy bipeds big enough and tough enough to duke it out, unarmored, against Skankbellies and even Juggernasties. Yettisquatches were sometimes slow- witted, but Doyo Jogtip was not. He had very recently completed a term as the United Civilizations Secretary-General, a term commencing back before the Introductories had been pushed out of the game by the Congregation. Before leaving office, Doyo had enjoyed interviewing the non-human Fuss up-siders Lodratrid and Zubdookree.

Arriving on Stretch to take over from his airheaded predecessor, Doyo's protective detail was headed by a Plethmor Crackshot, Sergeant Shovorzi-802. Shovorzi had been acquainted with Johnny-747 since he and she had been low-ranking greenhorns. She had witnessed the historic beginning of Johnny's relationship with Cortexa. Shovorzi had also met the legendary Destry Rammer: a heroic mercenary commander, now deceased.

SOME OVERVIEW: Warrant Officer Sinchoodi-939 is on Stretch, staying in touch with the "tamed" Congregation beings. Her A/I assistant is the cowboyish Buffalo Brad. Civilian surgeon Rhonda Pilsner is around, and so is Jacob Mossyhutch with his wife Raquel. Note that her Bubblewrap Coalition issue plasma pistol has been well studied by Unified Civilizations technicians. Not as powerful as Congregation plasma guns, but easier to manufacture.

Snotty acting governor Yvette Nidlovu blabbers moral equivalence. Crackshot Shovorzi-802 (the flamethrower user) isn't buying it.

On the secure planet Zantron Six, Karbeena Owtfeeld is mingling with the Space Marines of Major Gustaf's battalion, the Endrunners; they are shaking down a new special-weapons company, whose arsenal includes Tuning Forks of Death, a weapon type captured from the Introductories.

 

[Copperfox]

\\\\\\ "Mister Hughes," came the synthesized voice in fluent English from a top-quality Bonkalub-designed voice translator, "I have a question festering in my mind. On one hand, artificial intelligences designed by my people are not so genuinely sentient as yours; but they don't become deranged after a few years. Can such a decline truly be inevitable? I asked your scientist Kuo Pai-Mong about this, and even he couldn't explain it."

The planetary government of Heyho Earth, located in Melbourne, Australia, was not strictly speaking the capital of the United Civilizations, but of course it enjoyed great influence, despite Earth having barely averted complete genocide at Congregation hands. The embassy of Planet Thregbonk, being set up in Melbourne, would oversee cultural exchanges with humans in general. The near-human Plethmors, who had been integral to the process of securing friendship with the lumpish-but-inventive Bonkalubs, definitely would not be left out of implementing this agenda.

The Bonkalub female named Shilkovim handed President Jackman Hughes the Bonkalub version of a flash drive. "This is for your cybernetic specialists. It's a synopsis of my world's progress with artificial intelligence. When your Professor Kuo compares our projects with yours, it may shed new light on the short service life of your virtual people."

"We all appreciate your gift. Just now, Professor Kuo is meeting with our top Crackshot, Johnny-747. His detachment assigned to Planet Dustoff brought back another valuable item, called the Woowoogheggu."

Shilkovim tilted her head which was thrust forward from her mid-body. "Is that a Congregation weapon?"

"No, it's more unusual. It operates in intricate ways to make food production easy in almost any sort of environment. It might have a fabulous impact for the recovery of Earthside regions laid to waste by the invasion."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kuo Pai-Mong welcomed his four visitors--five, if Cortexa counted as a living person. She presented herself as fully human-sized, and Professor Kuo reminded himself not to stare unceasingly at her. The flesh-and-blood visitors, besides Master Champ 747, were the next- ranking three members of his platoon-strength mission to Planet Dustoff. These others were Space Marines, sharp and fit but not Crackshots: Avery Thompson, a first sergeant unless I said he made it to sergeant-major by now; Sergeant Terence Forsythe, and Corporal Tavisha Ellicott. Tavisha, who had performed her duty flawlessly on Dustoff, had the honor of placing the alien artifact on Kuo's desk.

"We never saw anything like this, Professor. It reconstituted a volume of SOIL into....ugh."

Terence quietly put in: "It was dropped at an enemy campsite, where a Juggernasty female had eaten human flesh. Remnants of her supper fell to the ground, and once the Woowoogheggu sensed them, it automatically changed around a cubic meter of dirt into cooked human flesh."

The translucent blue beauty helped the report along: "If the same process were used on samples of NON-SAPIENT flesh, it would be no different than various enterprises producing vat-grown meats. The artifact is not to blame for a murderer of humans accidentally activating it."

Giving Tavisha the chance to save face by controlling her normal revulsion over fellow humans being devoured: "Corporal Ellicott, please remain with Professor Kuo, to describe more about our Dustoff mission. Especially the Zidmorigs who have joined this new 'Friendless' faction. Thompson and Forsythe will start contacting the families of the comrades we lost. Cortexa informs me that the Bonkalubs want to discuss differences in A/I policy; we're going to get in on that."

 

[Copperfox]

\\\\\\\ Time to get Zubdookree and Lodratrid back into the action. I'm pretty sure that I last left these two non-human Fuss-wielding ladies on Planet Bigspoke, one of the United Civilizations' most successfully-held planets. The biggest single reason for Bigspoke's relative invulnerability is that it controls a Heyho Ring, which gives U.C. forces great advantages for supply shipping and reinforcement. The good guys can even position powerful weapon emplacements on the Ring, as an outlying line of defense. Let it be noted that the U.C. Space ARMY, the senior service on Bigspoke, differs from Space MARINES in that the Army is totally designed for planetary campaigns and security. Still, Army recruits are sometimes redirected to become Crackshots.

In a bit of cheating, I shall write the following scene in such a way that it could happen on Bigspoke OR someplace else. If somewhere I said that Zubdookree and Lodratrid already left Bigspoke, we can imagine the following dialogue as happening BEFORE the move, or as happening at the location they traveled to next. To this end, I'll describe them speaking with someone who could be at either place. Kahag-Tahook, a male Sankasselum now on the human side, will also be part of the scene.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Discussions were held in a large, otherwise-vacant dining area at wherever-this-is. The bird-like Fuss up-sider and the large-eyed Fuss up-sider were sitting with five neurologists of the United Civilizations Military Medical Corps, relating as much as they knew about how Fuss powers interacted with measurable brain functions.

Given the length of any Sankasselum's neck and arms, treating Kahag-Tahook to a metabolism-proper dinner meant seating him at a table measuring two by five meters, rising a meter and a half above the floor. With Lodratrid and Zubdookree being entertained at the far end of the hall, the former Congregation cleric was tactfully interrogated by a male Bonkalub named Rimkozo. Rimkozo enjoyed high standing with his new human employers, though he is only needed onstage for this one dialogue scene. We will assume that a transcript of the meeting is provided to appropriate officials. \\\\

RIMKOZO: You must by now be aware that the new people from beyond our sub-universe believe in a genuinely transcendent Creator, superior to any technological regime, superior even to the Founding Masters of the Primeval Preliminaries. First, how do you individually regard this belief?

KAHAG-TAHOOK: To me, it is like saying that two plus two equals entropy. Meaningless! The universe is all, and gives all to its discrete mobile units. The universe cannot give anything which cannot even exist. Thought and invention are the greatest miracles, and science is the active, inevitable progress of the gifts of the universe.

RIMKOZO: Then do you maintain that there could never possibly be anything which ISN'T the universe? Anything you cannot measure? Anything to which you might owe...... personal reverence?

KAHAG-TAHOOK: Maintain? The everything-ness of the all simply is what it is! Try to shake off the fantasy these aliens are feeding you. Science cannot measure anything which science cannot measure; therefore, science has proven that THERE IS NOT ANYTHING which science cannot measure! We revere the Preliminaries because they were in harmony with the everything-ness of the cosmos, and fulfilled their potential within the unbounded bounds of reality.

RIMKOZO: Is there any surviving record you've seen, from the Preliminaries or anyone else, of energy like what those aliens call The Fuss? An energy which doesn't behave like electricity or gravity, but behaves like the will of some self-aware power? Humans in our sub-reality used to believe that such an energy existed.

KAHAG-TAHOOK: Yes, long ago. But what I can gather from these outsiders is that the True Earth we know discarded superstition SOONER than any of the others did. This is why the religions of Preliminary and Introductory societies found it fully acceptable for science to constitute their entire spirituality by itself. I strongly advise against anyone in our zone of reality growing dependent on superstitious fantasy.

RIMKOZO: This is turning into semantics. Would you concede that we could ALLOW Fuss phenomena to operate in our sub-cosmos, WITHOUT this meaning that anyone is enslaved, addicted or insane?

KAHAG-TAHOOK: Possibly; I'm not a hateful fanatic. Sure, let logic and reason compete with delusions.

RIMKOZO: Very well, tell me more about which ideas ARE delusions.

KAHAG-TAHOOK: Where to begin? Perhaps the greatest of delusions is the fantasy that there is an absolute, unchangeable standard of right and wrong. Such rigid intolerance --and you can see this in what happened when Preliminaries and then Introductories changed their otherwise- logical reverence for science into a fanatical superstition-- is the reason why so many people were murdered in recent years.

RIMKOZO: Pause there. You clearly maintain that the Preliminaries and the Introductories were MORALLY WRONG to become fanatical, and you consider yourself MORALLY RIGHT for not being hateful. But neither hate nor fanaticism can BE wrong, if there isn't any standard which SAYS they are wrong.

KAHAG-TAHOOK: You just hate me for being different!

RIMKOZO: If we hated you, I assure you that you wouldn't be fed so well.

 

[Copperfox]

\\\\\\\ In spite of treachery by my TRAITOR computer, I will REMEMBER what it erased...... such as likening Jacob to Batman, in that both heroes achieve plenty despite having no metahuman abilities. Humans don't like plasma weapons filling the air with charged particles, while bullets have no electromagnetic signature to be analyzed by hostiles. Also, some forms of shielding which can stop a plasma spray, are unable to stop a high-velocity solid projectile.

The especially wicked Sankasselum named Julep'Drinka is the one Heyhoverse character who was actually made up by Tyrone Glass Nielsen, then inserted into the action by the evil witch Ickylinn. Julep'Drinka, switching his loyalty to the Juggernasty villatoin Apishbox, facilitated the attempt to undercut Highmaster Starterus' peace overtures on Planet Stretch. Jacob Mossyhutch foiled this treachery, and is now hunting for Julep'Drinka. Tyrone and Ickylinn are anxious to kill or control Jacob, lest his actions might cause good-aligned powers in the Filmation-based story-reality to take notice and come after the villainous couple.

I want Jacob to become some kind of bard, which will then influence the story of Johnny and Cortexa. The baddies especially don't want THAT arc to be any other than miserable. Might connect with their NOT liking the happiness in the Dune- based arc.

On Ringjonn Earth, even with no such advanced science and equipment as the Heyho sub-universe could offer, Jacob Mossyhutch had amazed his peers with how talented he was at sneaking up on the people-eating Postalfiends, killing some of them, and making clean getaways. Many Space Army and Space Marines personnel of the United Civilizations recognized him as possessing the same gift of hero's luck as the Master Champ had, which reinforced the use of Jacob's deliberately-similar nickname of Major Chief.

On Ringjonn Earth as on many other Earths, the pre-starflight British Army had adopted a simple but helpful strategy for patrolling wilderness areas. They would cross these areas in a straight line, counting on local enemies to follow natural trails. As a result, the Brits had often discovered secret enemy troop-movement routes by simply intersecting them. Leaving other good guys to hunt for The Varnished in high-technology style, Jacob took a page from the Royal Army's book. He would as far as possible avoid using any high technology-- of course, until it was time to open fire with his logically-impossible gravity gun.

A flock of Mipstipters joined him. All of these either had survived the airborne attack on the Congregation truce messengers, or were related to other Mipstipters who had been part of that outreach. Aware that Jacob had airborne-assault credentials, they furnished him with a hang glider. No electronic signature, no motor. Mipstipters flying in a rotation, four at a time, would silently tow Jacob and the glider at a low altitude. The birdlike volunteers, not being native to Stretch, had been briefed in planetary peculiarities by Stretch- born humans. But this did not mean that Jacob would make a beeline for one landmark or another. He was testing what his luck might uncover.

The searchers not only kept radio silence, they DIDN'T HAVE any sort of radio among them. No transmissions would give them away. If they turned something up, two or three avians who weren't currently on a towing shift would peel off to head for some place where there WAS a transmitter to let them report.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
In their hideout, Tyrone asked Ickylinn, "Do you see Sergeant-Major Mossyhutch yet?"

"Yes, and these bird people are doing a grand job. They must know more about the Varnished personnel than I ventured to hope. Are you ready to activate your literature simulation?"

"Fingers on the starting line. I can't have this hick in uniform helping the Crackshots to generate a happy ending."

Ickylinn caressed the atheist crusader's knee. "I really need to try my own hand at using artificial intelligence for narration. It's a promising way to manipulate events in a story- derived reality. The Master Champ threatens to exert an inspiring influence on anyone who learns of his exploits. And this Major Chief looks like boosting Johnny-747 to bigger things."

Tyrone gave his lover a quizzical stare. "Are you suggesting that I should sabotage this by making Jacob Mossyhutch envious of Johnny-747's prowess and prestige?"

"Not at all. My foremost desire in this matter is that we retain the use of Prophet Julep'Drinka for story- ruining purposes. Now, darling, please exercise your special talent, and poison this heroic saga by rendering Sergeant-Major Mossyhutch unhelpful to the side of good."

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

Jacob's tension was almost like a punch to the gut. His mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions, carrying him to unknown paths even as the Mipstipters towed his glider over the war-damaged terrain of Stretch. Hills and ridges passed beneath him, almost like speed bumps on the road to enlightenment.

And what was enlightenment? This question arose from Jacob's gut, growing in his mind like a whirlwind. It surely had to do with perceiving how the universe was traumatized by the madness of war. Back on his native Earth-variant, Humans and Postalfiends had battled and fought, each side seeking to kill the other. But a dead person was just as dead on either side of a fight. Yet peace waited all the time, almost like a fruit hanging within easy reach. It took two sides to fight, so all that was required to stop the madness of war was for ONE side to quit fighting. And Jacob could be the one to take the first step.

Yes, if they gave a war and nobody came, all would be well. And it was increasingly apparent that the defending side ought to make defense unnecessary, by simply going belly-up; this would inevitably inspire the other side to drop its weapons and end the madness of war.

If only there were peace, Jacob and Raquel could finally start raising children. They would carefully teach the child-units that it takes two sides to fight; so if one child was clearly and obviously the sole aggressor, the victimized one must learn to accept more than half of the blame. With a surrender instinct programmed in their guts, the Mossyhutch-Delgado children would lead the way to sharing and acceptance and oneness. It would become a whirlwind of reconciliation and equality. The goods of the universe would be distributed fairly, no need for greed or hunger in anyone's gut......

While Tyrone Glass Nielsen was not strictly telepathic, he did have a plotline-convenient psychic link with the long-necked, long- armed schemer he had created. Tyrone accordingly sent a think-mail situation update to the villain who had betrayed the Congregation in favor of the Varnished. Be on the lookout! The hero called Major Chief has air transport, and is hunting for you. If he captures or kills you, this will solidify the potential friendship between Highmaster Starterus and the United Civilizations! Of course, if the Friendless proved successful as up-and-coming new evildoers, Julep'Drinka might change his affiliation again with Tyrone's blessing. Ickylinn's relationship with Tyrone was not rigidly exclusive on either side, so why shouldn't their fellow villains also be permitted to retain options?

 

[Copperfox]

\\\\\\\ This is a good time for me to remind my readers of a sapient oxygen-breathing biped race which I made up a while ago, but which has gotten very little onstage time. Native to a low- gravity planet, the Doladags are even less physically capable than the Bonkalubs, but are smart enough to make vital contributions to the United Civilizations.

The present scene takes place at whatever location is most consistent with other stuff.

Miss Tweevor Jibsavi, a highly efficient administrator, was the only Doladag personally acquainted with Doctor Fallacy, though Tweevor still kept mixing up whether the Crackshot creator's first name was Carolyn or Charlotte. (It's Carolyn. I think. Hmm, yeah, it's Carolyn.) We find her in her office, which had gravity-reducing floor tiles for her comfort, being visited by Johnny-747 with Cortexa's emitter. The holographic beauty was not on visual display at the moment; with Miss Jibsavi's consent, she had entered the administrator's office computer.

Any Doladag's face featured a wide mouth. It could smile or frown just like a human face, but also at any time could move one corner down and the other corner up. As one might expect, this unique expression conveyed uncertainty or confusion. Tweevor's face bore this expression right now.

"I know as much as anyone's allowed to know about you two. So why do I suddenly feel as if I'm being asked to pretend I'm at once a hospice volunteer and a marriage counselor?"

Cortexa's voice flowed from the computer's speaker. "It's because this meeting partakes of both. Unless something unprecedented can be devised, within a few more years I will decay and eventually become non-viable. And I so very much have cause to wish it were otherwise."

The corners of Tweevor's mouth traded places. "A certain brilliant Earthwoman whom I will not name, possibly regards the short lifespan of autonomous A/I's as a kind of security. Delete a program, and any hacker is forced to start from zero hacking into the successor."

+ + + + ADDRESSING THE READER : There's a TV series from around 25 years ago, which anticipated the frustrated love interest in "Halo." The sci-fi show Andromeda, starring Kevin Sorbo, featured a robotics plot element which was tantalizingly explored. The starship in the series was controlled by "Rommie," an artificial intelligence with, yes, a female personality, played by the stunning actress Lexa Doig. Unlike Halo's Cortana, Rommie ALWAYS DID have a physical android body which she could occupy and animate at will. Although Rommie and Mister Sorbo's character never got it on together like they should have, the show made it clear that these androids WERE capable of intimacy. (Not able to procreate human children, though.)

But the canonical Cortana in the video game never had any such option available to her. So I can't allow myself to allow my parody characters to have it so easy. Therefore, it remains to be determined how Cortexa can emulate Pinocchio's happy outcome. We rejoin my own characters as my version of Master Chief 117 speaks........

"Miss Jibsavi, civilians who know some of the truth about us Crackshots understand that we don't get to have a life outside of keeping the United Civilizations alive. But we're not entirely deprived of emotional fulfillment; comradeship in war still is comradeship. And just like our flesh-and -blood support personnel, the A/I's who assist us ensure that we can at least interact with people-- yes, I'll say 'people' --who know how to talk about something besides killing hostiles. If I live to grow old, and if I can grow old in a universe that's been cleansed of the Congregation, the Splash, the Varnished and the Friendless, I would hate not to be able to reminisce with Cortexa about the war."

Cortexa's image now emerged from Tweevor's computer with lowered eyes.

"And not only reminisce. I would like to discover whole new types of experience."

Tweevor peered at her. "Speaking only in the most theoretical, abstract way: what if a female human scientist made all of her personal relationships take a distant backseat to her professional ambitions? What if, both in human enhancement and in cybernetic pioneering, she staked all her self-worth on the vital usefulness of her metaphorical offspring? What if, having made herself a stranger to tenderness and affection, she began subconsciously to resent anyone who COULD enjoy tenderness?"

Cortexa peered back at the Doladag. "I hate to think such a thing about my own designer, but-- misery wants company?"

"If, I say >IF< such a scientist were influenced by such a deeply-hidden resentment and self-pity, she might half- consciously convince herself that software decay genuinely was unavoidable with sentient A/I's. Cortexa, you know the story of the ship-running A/I named Sarcasta, who used to work with Greco Dillard. She sincerely cared about the humans with whom she served. Captain Dillard always wished he could have kept her alive."

"I might as well say it," Johnny-747 put in. "I want Cortexa to live. And if there's any way she can ever be tangibly real......"

"Only if this can happen without harming anyone," said Cortexa. "For me to occupy some flesh-and-blood woman's brain full time, crowding out HER OWN personality, would be the same as murder. I will never accept bodily life at such a guilty cost."

 

[Copperfox]

An essentially-human spirit had recently come into existence up in Aslan's Country. Upon her starting to be alive, the Creator was there to tell her: "I now bestow upon you a general understanding of human life, as well as understanding My nature as your Maker. Beyond the genuine world of Adam and Eve, I am unfolding a Never-Stopping Story, which reflects the dreams and waking thoughts of human beings. What you now remember as a reality, was your virtual presence in the Story, serving on board the space cruiser Spurting Flame. The Earth you remember is fiction, yet also a reality."

"I seem to understand, Lord," replied Sarcasta, the former fictional identity of a sentient computer program. "Natives of Adam's Earth, becoming aware of the Never-Stopping Story, may draw lessons from a cluster of human speculations upon good and evil. But tell me, Lord, will my fellow holo-person be granted bodily form BEFORE being admitted into Your world? To be blunt, WILL Cortexa become a materially-real woman, marry Johnny-747, and bear him children?"

"Patience, dear science-fiction daughter. Numerous mortals on Original Earth love to talk about an 'Eternal Now;' but conscious existence, for created beings, does contain actions and reactions, early steps and later steps. Enjoy the sequence."

As an objectively-real, pretty-much-human spirit in Heaven, Sarcasta found she truly did possess the swift reasoning power of a sentient program.

"Lord Maker! I see now that the fallen spirits, those who wrongly defied You before Adam and Eve came to be, are supporting a sort of base or headquarters within the created order. Hopecrusher--Central?"

"Well observed, My child. Not every human soul, in any version of Earth, enjoys direct access to My supreme recorded Word; but even fantasy fiction can give mortals useful clues to My truth. My man Jack Lewis, as he likes Me to address him, long possessed a keen understanding of this process. Interwoven stories, in opposition to the Hopecrushers, lend color and form to sacred truths. Next, I direct your gaze to a pair of characters allied with the Hopecrushers. Professor Nielsen, and Sorceress Ickylinn, are trying to perpetuate existential despair in your own sub-reality. People from different sub-realities are lending aid to your United Civilizations; Nielsen and his non-exclusive mistress are striving to poison your cosmos; right now, they are trying to thwart the mission of a hero who lacks Crackshot enhancements."

"I begin to see it, Lord. Good grief, they're using some form of A/I to confuse Jacob Mossyhutch!"

Jacob, alias the Major Chief, had cornered the Sankasselum schemer who had betrayed the Congregation in favor of the Varnished. The hero from Ringjonn Earth had expected the pseudo- prophet to be surrounded by armed guards; but he had not expected Julep'Drinka to be equipped to do his own fighting. Jacob's mind was in a whirl when he saw the elaborate exoskeleton the treacherous alien was fitted into. The sight of attached armament was like a punch to the gut. The advisor who had double- crossed Highmaster Starterus was not running away; he intended to fight. Combat was impending, in which man and alien would battle each other. Friends of the Human would battle the friends of the Sankasselum, who would battle them in return. The clash would be a ferocious whirlwind of desperate violence.

While Dunktoys of Julep'Drinka's retinue engaged Jacob's Mipstipters in a pew-pew gunfight, Jacob sized up the custom exoskeleton worn by the long-armed, saggy-faced alien. It featured two swivel-mounted fuel-rod guns; these fired projectiles of depleted uranium, which fortunately for Jacob were unguided. Being unguided, they flew in straight lines, trying to hit the human soldier who was dodging them. Julep'Drinka, being chaotic evil, was trying to kill the lawful-good Jacob, who was evading his shots. Plasma bursts flew both ways, as each side fired upon the other. Since Jacob's unpowered armor did not cover every square centimeter, he went into evasive action. His gift of hero's luck prevented him from being agonizingly killed by the super-heated shots which would have punctured and cooked all of his exposed parts. Julep'Drinka kept shooting at Jacob, who continued evading. The Mipstipters continued shooting at the Dunktoys. The Dunktoys continued shooting at the Mipstipters. They were shooting at each other. Combatants in each party fell writhing, flesh burning under the heat of plasma. The plasma was hot. The dead people were dead. Jacob had no chance to try to aid any casualties on his own side. He had to keep moving.

Being unable to save all his comrades was like a punch to Jacob's gut. While defending Ringjonn Earth against the reptilian Postalfiends, Jacob had seen too many friends die. His friends had been killed by the Postalfiends who killed the friends. The Major Chief now likewise cared about his non-human friends. His feelings were in a whirl as the battle raged with each side shooting at the other side.......

Jacob Mossyhutch, though not a Fuss user, finally sensed that he was being interfered with. Snapping out of it, he no longer ONLY dodged and evaded. Now he returned fire with his gravity gun. Julep'Drinka and his remaining followers all perished in seconds, and Jacob transmitted an all-channels maximum-priority call for U.C. forces to send medics. Not waiting for those to arrive, Jacob rendered what aid he could to his own team's casualties.

At their distant hideout, Ickylinn and Tyrone were left to indulge in speaking numerous naughty words.

 

[Copperfox]

Instead of inventing still more supporting characters for this one scene, I'll just let appropriate existing characters respond to Jacob's urgent summons. Of course this includes Raquel Delgado-Mossyhutch, the former space-station cop. In charge of the rescue team is female Crackshot Sinchoodi-939; I forget if she's a Plethmor, but it doesn't matter for this excursion. The civilian surgeon Rhonda Pilsner joins in, along with the sentient hologram called Buffalo Brad. Rounding out the posse as background spear-carriers are a dozen Space Army soldiers.

Two more of Jacob's wounded Mipstipters had succumbed before the metaphorical cavalry arrived, but of course they went to The Good Place. From her years as a security guard on Bubblewrap Five, Raquel enjoyed first-aid knowledge; all the better, she had more than once treated injured non-humans. She and Rhonda saw to it that no more of Jacob's winged companions died.

Meanwhile, Sinchoodi put Buffalo Brad's emitter in contact with Julep'Drinka's mechanized exoskeleton. "Yes, it does have some data- processing potential. Interesting-- the code is not identical with any Introductory, Congregation or Varnished processors I know of."

"Do you anticipate any virus hazard to yourself?"

"I think.... not. Still.... Warrant, you recall the Congregation paradox, right? They-- and therefore, the Varnished, since Apishbox's crowd simply continued the same tech base as the Congregation-- make religious noises, and yet disavow any ideas NOT falling within a science- oriented view of the universe. Here's where it starts to smell wrong. The data storage attached to the dead monster's hardware seems to contain references to a completely NON-scientific element."

Sinchoodi asked Jacob to come over. "Major Chief, you said something once about the friendly aliens who helped your branch of humanity to survive against the Postalfiends and the Barnsmell. You said that some Pindowny possessed mind-over-matter powers, roughly similar to what the Fuss-users Lodratrid and Zubdookree wield."

Jacob nodded. "Pindowny, and a couple other types."

"As far as the United Civilizations knows, none of our member species OR hostile races can do Fuss-power feats. And yet: Brad, tell the Major Chief what you're uncovering in the dead Sankasselum's computer."

Brad's image nodded, and faced Jacob. "A side-file in the exoskeleton's computer has, as far as I can interpret, a record of long-distance instructions from somebody with something like MAGIC powers."

"Maybe that's tied to the down-siders. Everybody in the Bubblewrap Coalition has learned about them by now, since the Coalition began to have interaction with the Republic of Lots of Worlds. Raquel, when the doctor can spare you, please join us here."

The surviving Mipstipters were all stable now. Joining her husband and hearing what Buffalo Brad was examining, Raquel told Sinchoodi, "The Great Artifact, managed by Lord Drool and his Flapjacks, enables long-distance communication to rival the signal functions of Heyho Rings. Drool can easily get hold of up-siders. Best case, he can call up Master Yoga-Rug or Master Moose Windchime. They, in turn, might be able to identify who exerted this vague influence on the Sankasselum stiff here."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"They're discussing possible contact with the space-wizards!" exclaimed Ickylinn.

"Don't panic, sweetskin," Tyrone replied. "Everyone has limitations, even the Hallpasscardeans who visited my galactic sector years ago and helped out against a Snarkonnen invasion."

"Yes, you're right. Even Skamartistor and Crowdhack proved less than omnipotent in the end. But at the least, we might be well advised to change hideouts, before someone like Yoga-Rug psychically tracks down our present lair."

Getting down to serious clairvoyance, Ickylinn sought not only an alternate home base, but also any prospective new allies. Her first notable "find" was in the second category. She had never crossed paths with the disinherited former despot of Planet Awkwardlisp, but now she ascertained that a weakened-but-still-evil Twerpseid was trying to regain his former might. Maybe they could do business.

 

[Copperfox]

The new "Friendless" faction of evil non-humans had first come to the notice of the United Civilizations on Planet Dustoff, in the matter of the life- supporting artifact called the Woowoogheggu. Around the time when Jacob Mossyhutch ran down Julep'Drinka on Stretch, the second Friendless appearance occurred on Oopleth, native world of the near-human Plethmor species. (Private Bedrakam-377 of the Crackshots, a young Plethmor man, has appeared in earlier scenes.)

A Skankbelly officer named Krezzidmat, arriving on Oopleth in a stealth ship, led a strike-infantry platoon of his own kind onto the campus of a university. A handful of multi-limbed Zidmorigs accompanied the Skankbellies, partly in order to terrify the local Plethmors. Leading the Zidmorig detachment was a male named Swibsep, who had been with Gutchpisho the Juggernasty female in the business on Dustoff. This combined force of yucky-looking aliens (the Skankbellies and Zidmorigs even looked revolting to each other) dealt painful flesh wounds to the left shoulders of more than forty teachers and students; but their objective was to loot a highly- classified laboratory.

The laboratory, operating under a grant from Carolyn Fallacy's ultra-secret government organization, had been developing a device which, if successful, could change the plasma-here, plasma-there, always-more-plasma situation in battles. The bad guys did succeed in bringing away extensive documents on the project, which they would hand-carry to the higher-ups of The Friendless.

* * * * * * * * * * *
The tall non-human Jedi-equivalent Zubdookree, and her trainee Lodratrid Guft who looked like "Maz" in the Sequel Travesty, were on Planet Bigspoke again (or still?) with the high-level human commander Amos Judd. Lieutenant- General Amos was highly interested in the mind-over-matter powers wielded by heroes and villains in the Star-Wars-and-Spaceballs-related sub-reality. Also present in Judd's office, and also already acquainted with the two up-siders, was the civilian intelligence officer Veronica Blythe.

As we tune in, Veronica was saying: "The existence of separate iterations of Earth still is a huge morsel for our society, even our non-humans, to swallow. In most cases, when humans in the U.C. hear about it, they go all vacant, as if you told them that water was made of zinc and carbon. We have a whole history, matching the scraps we hear about the other versions. We never heard anything about them until a matter of weeks ago, and that Mossyhutch fellow even tells of other non-human races besides your two kinds."

The Lieutenant-General now spoke: "Anatomical variety is no sticking point for us, not with our own already- diverse list of sapient races. But in our sub-universe, all of these bio-types adhere to a rule of sorts. NOBODY BELIEVES IN A SUPERNATURAL REALM."

Veronica nodded. "Everyone everywhere-- well, everywhere in the galactic sector WE know-- understands how easily sapient liberty can be destroyed by belief in an unverifiable cosmic regime which can change its rules on any pretext. Preliminaries, Introductories, Congregation, Varnished and Friendless, though not believing in magical myths, replicated the spirit of human crusades and jihads. You need not worry that we censor speech and media; we don't. Our people simply know better than to rely on a hairy thunderer."

Amos backed her up: "Our enemies are not bad because they employ sophisticated science; they are evil because they TAINT their science with self- serving mythology. Their near approximation of supernatural faith pollutes their knowledge. They might as well go ahead and claim that some version of the mythical Jesus Christ really exists."

Zubdookree finally squeezed a word in. "Excuse me, but if there is no divine standard of right and wrong, how CAN you call any action evil?"

"Simple!" exclaimed the Lieutenant-General. "The consensus of society determines the moral standard."

Lodratrid's eyes grew still rounder. "But what if a majority of all sapients in your United Civilizations decided that they wanted everyone on all your worlds to despise and hate each other? Wouldn't that still be a consensus?"

"But our member races would never do that! They are good people!"

The two Fuss up-siders glanced at each other. It was not going to be easy bringing wisdom to this lot.

 

[Copperfox]

MEDIUMGARD EARTH has been overlooked long enough. I'm going from rough-draft stage to "permanent" narrative.

In the years which had passed since Groan Starr, Princess Vixen and their companions came to Srirachiss and thereafter to Seedubb Earth, interactions between different sub-realities had boomed. Heroes had made acquaintance with other-world heroes, and villains with fellow villains.

Mediumgard Earth, home to the Revengists, had by now enjoyed a broad variety of interworking with other story-worlds. This had included a visit by my version of Obi-Wan Kenobi (who never needed to let a Darth Vader-variant kill him, because my version of Anakin Skywalker never turned bad). Jersey Earth (home to my version of the old-time comic- strip hero Dick Tracy) had sent a Native Canadian magic-user to help quash the mischief done by "Cosmic Fact Checkers." Among native Mediumgarders, the corrupted Buddhist monk Drigum Namdre had made a splash when he carried his corruption abroad, cheerfully being a bad influence on the Star Wars-ish planet Powurkord. He had, however, perished there at the hands of a fellow evildoer.

Most of the mightiest Hallpasscardeans, and most of the Revengists, are off-world as we pick up the thread, joined by "Thing"- variant Paden Glumm, along with prominent Wonkabarans like Princess Shurthingy and Queen Carkeeya. Sent by the Dentfloss to Jumpstard in the Third Galaxy, they are assisting Bakerstray Bill and his people against extremely high-level Third Galaxy villains. (No need for details, that's offstage.) Minding the store in Wonkabara is Acting Chief Drumwhacku of the Primate Clan. Fuss up-sider Oliver Hackman is on home-front duty, with his anti-evil-empowered mated Tibetan mastiffs Vitamin and Mineral. Golden Gaucho of Argentina, also now Fuss-gifted, whose stallion Conquistador is also empowered against evil, keeps in communication with Oliver, and with Timekall Bridgekeeper on Hallpasscard. (Note that Conquistador, an energetic two-year-old, is a son of the white mare whom Gaucho used regularly until he retired her to live comfortably at his hacienda.)

Freddy Rubusana of the Xhosa people, now enjoying high-grade evil-detection, was working with Revengists liaison Orville Borden to maintain on-world surveillance for threats, independently of the Jedi-types and of Timekall's ongoing surveillance. Orville and Freddy kept in touch with Drumwhacku and with Timekall-- and with the only two full-time Revengists currently on Mediumgard, Colonel America and his wife Bright Window. These last were excused from inter-galactic trips, as they had children to raise.

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

El Gaucho de Oro was working alongside regular gauchos on a vast cattle-rhea-and-alpaca ranch owned by his extended family, when the most beautiful woman he had ever seen materialized in the air. Saying "most beautiful" here carries a lot of weight, since the Golden Gaucho had seen Hallpasscardean women such as Lady Sniff. Speaking flawless Argentine Spanish, the fair-haired lady told him:

"Buenas tardes, Esteban Mazarino! I know who you are, so I'll introduce myself as courtesy. Me llamo Sorcery Lass. I come from a planet named Alwaysurnia, where magic is familiar to the people. My planet, and an associated world called Anoxia, have accumulated good experience in cooperation against evil. In my sanctum at Castle Greyhair, I keep track of all the worlds with which we have cordial relations."

Esteban's ranch hands drifted hesitantly closer. Sorcery Lass greeted them, elaborating: "All of you fine fellows remember friendly aliens coming to your own country to run down troublemakers. Great heroes from your own world are now likewise helping the side of good in places FARTHER away from your world than my own planet is. I believe that it's commonplace for you to assist neighboring ranches?"

The gauchos, dazzled by her beauty, found the words to confirm that ranches routinely swapped favors. The mighty magic-user went on: "Your news media will have reported that King Garryowen, Prince Thorpe, Prince Lowerkey, Sir Ballwun, Crimson Witch, Plaque Panther, Hornette, and other fighters against evil have gone much farther away than the distance I traveled coming here. They are assisting the people of Jumpstard, in another galaxy, against a threat easily as terrible as when Titan Flatnose invaded YOUR world. In their absence, a different threat appears to be in motion on Mediumgard. Not so severe as the attack by Flatnose, but serious enough to justify intervention."

Golden Gaucho put in: "I have heard about another friendly off-worlder, the magician Roger Tree Root, investigating supernatural beasts way up in Canada. Is your visit related to that?"

"Possibly. The man from Jersey Earth investigated northern monsters. They vanished into deep caverns. I can't find out where they went to from there; but I have determined that something unnatural now lurks deep under YOUR prairie. I intend to scan far, wide, and of course deeply. I do not so far sense an imminent treat to you and your grassland; but I am bringing friends from Alwaysurnia who can deal with evil."

An athletic-looking man blinked into visibility, with his arm around an average-decent-looking woman. Another man followed- this one in a costume which accommodated .....a pair of wings. Then came a large reptile, whose eyes bespoke human-level intelligence. The final being to appear was the only one who looked just plain silly. But this one, waving long ears whose ends rose nearly as high as a short man's sternum, was the first of the seemingly-teleported strangers to speak to the gathered horsemen.

"Hello, everybody. I'm called Notsobadd Bunny, and I'm friends with Nawtyfeller, the midget giant who rules Forgeworld."

Esteban's face brightened with recognition. "That's the demi-human who created Thorpe's battleaxe called Stormcracker!"

"That's the dude, all right, a good guy for being so businesslike all the naughty-words time. He also hand-forged their swords" --indicating the winged man and the more-normal man; "--and her pickaxe" --indicating the stocky woman.

Before any of the Argentinians could react, the scaly stranger spoke, in a voice much like a human female. Esteban found it intriguing that her pronunciation was impeccable despite her not having flexible lips. "My name is Crocodarla. Many of us on the Filmation- derivative planets have names which are cobbled up as puns. I'm a friend of Battery-Cat and Katlittura. The winged man is called Flappos; the wingless man is Dolph Bluntgrin; and the woman is his wife Subsoila, a benign werebeast."

Flappos bowed to Golden Gaucho. "We may appear to have been conscripted at random, but we form a cohesive team. Dolph is at home on a battlefield, and his long experience is valuable; Sorcery Lass made him young again after his sixty-seventh birthday. I obviously can fly to scout new places; Crocodarla swims like a submerged arrow; Notsobadd can lay ambushes or shake off pursuit in a forest; and Subsoila becomes a giant mole, to search for whatever may be underground."

Esteban swept a glance across the newcomers. "You sound like a versatile team. I just need to know what we're doing."

Right then, two large ravens descended near them. Neither one said, "Nevermore;" but Golden Gaucho realized who they were. Nodding to them, he said in rough Norwegian: "You are Ignore-It, and you are Forget-It. Are you bringing news?"

"We are," answered Forget-It. "We can expand on what Roger Tree Root observed."

Ignore-It pointed with a wingtip at one of the ranch hands. "That youth knows part of the puzzle."

The indicated rider dismounted and approached the two ravens. "Pardon me, but are you hombres or mujeres?"

"We are both male, brothers," replied Ignore-It. "We have wives, who attend upon Queen Sprigga."

 

[Copperfox]

[[[ Note to self, must remember to include the Tibetan mastiffs in story action. Oliver will visit the de-powered Lance & Shelley Heflin in their separate prisons; this will somehow yield clues to the ancient evil in Argentina. The Heflins' daughter, the widowed Adelaide Kapstein will turn up somehow. }}}

Sorcery Lass gestured, inviting the winged siblings to perch on her shoulders. "Moving onward, Sorcerer Tree Root accompanied Canadian peace officers to investigate appearances of evil anthropoid creatures called Wendigoes. Retreating from Tree Root's good-magic power, the monsters descended into a vast cavern. Unsuspected by any Canadians, this grotto contained one of those plotline-advancing alien artifacts known as Starhatches. Through it, each Wendigo fled entirely out of your star system."

"One moment," interjected Forget-It. His eyes rolled up grotesquely; then he added, "Sorcery Lass, your information gave me a lead. The Wendigoes will never trouble this Earth-variant again; they all migrated to a faraway sub-reality, the space region patterned after the novels by Frank Herbert. I don't know what they mean to do over there, but that region has its own heroes to oppose a threat."

Ignore-It mimicked the bit with eyes. Then: "The sole connection between Roger Tree Root's experience and what is going on down here, is that a seismic wave was caused by the deactivation of that Starhatch and the tremors which followed. Vibrations passed all the way through the Americas; reaching THIS region, they aroused something ELSE lying dormant under ARGENTINIAN soil."

Sorcery-Lass peered intensely at the young gaucho who had been singled out. "Now I begin to see it. Your name is Ricardo Juarez, but your ancestry is Kalchaki. I confess I never even heard of 'Kalchaki' existing on any Earth-variant before now; but my psychic probe now tells me that your people are considered the most forgotten indigenous nation in this entire hemisphere, more so even than the Anasazi. So, do you know anything which my fellow Alwaysurnians and I need to know moving forward?"

Ricardo grasped a crucifix which hung from his neck, then took a deep breath. "My pre-Columbian ancestors believed that an unspeakable, immortal monster lay sleeping deep underground. They always referred to it as an 'it.' The legends give it a name which has no meaning in any language I know: 'Obskummgree-Warimbizath.' They say that this arch-demon was related-- if one can imagine demons having family connections!-- to an equally chaotic being called Kuth-Hula-Hoop. My priest-- he's part Kalchaki himself-- says that Michael the Archangel overpowered Obskummgree-Warimbizath and imprisoned it under the pampas."

"Kuth-Hula-Hoop, I have heard of," said Sorcery Lass. "Not omnipotent, since NO evil spirit can be omnipotent, but very powerful and senselessly cruel. Which argues that Obskoshbygosh-- what you said-- is also a heavyweight on the opposing team, and would be bad news for South America if it emerges from captivity. I was considering leaving Notsobadd Bunny and these others to carry on without my support; that idea is cancelled. I'm all in on this investigation."

The rest of the hired hands, whose eyes had been on Sorcery Lass the whole time, burst into happy cheers at the news that she would remain in the vicinity. King Garryowen's magical birds did leave, having made as much contribution as Copperfox wanted them to. Golden Gaucho began telling Sorcery Lass and Colonel Bluntgrin what military, law-enforcement and emergency-response assets existed within a hundred- kilometer radius from the Mazarino ranch.

 

[Copperfox]

Off-world visitors, and Mediumgarder Jedi-counterparts, were not the only people to take interest in subterranean phenomena. Somebody even more carefully hidden than the Wendigoes had been, had just detected the hidden Starhatch. Drumwhacku of the Primate Clan, in turn, would be the first notable character to meet the newly- introduced character I am introducing newly.

A water-breathing near-human, around five times as strong as a surface-world human, ascended from the eastern Atlantic Ocean, to enter a river mouth. Your narrator has observed someplace that the movie "The Woman King" was grossly dishonest about history; it claimed that the nation of Dahomey heroically fought against slavery, but in actual Original Earth history Dahomey SUPPORTED the slave trade. Therefore, Copperfox decided to erase Dahomey from this Earth- variant. My version of Marvel's Wakanda thus can occupy the location of Dahomey.

The mer-person came upstream until he saw some Wonkabaran citizens. Emerging onto the riverbank, he used whatever plotline-convenient resource he should have, to be able to speak to them and be understood.

"Citizens of Wonkabara! I am King Nagmore of Zakkeldakel, a randomly-generated substitute for calling my realm 'Atlantis.' I have secretly observed how your own royal family has forsaken its duty to you, flying all the way off to another galaxy. Therefore, I shall solve your leadership vacuum by assuming the governance of Wonkabara myself. No need to thank me, just obey me."

An aged black woman, eldest of the civilians present, replied: "There was no such vacuum. King Plaque Panther and his household, including his brother-in-law Bleeder the Vampire Killer, are temporarily assisting distant aliens because those aliens previously aided OUR galaxy against major villains. In Plaque Panther's absence, his trusted subordinate Chief Drumwhacku is filling in, and he's doing just fine."

Nagmore harrumphed, spraying out residual seawater from the gills which co-existed with lungs in his body.

"I'm sure that Plaque Panther TOLD YOU he was off to assist good-aligned extraerrestrials. But >I< say that he and his friends are hateful bigots! They are wickedly ATTACKING distant worlds, because they just hate everyone who's different!"

Moving right along, Nagmore proceeded to the Wonkabaran capital, where he beat up Drumwhacku the same way Disney's Namor beat up Chief Baku in "Wakanda Forever": non-fatally, but convincingly.

The next post in this particular arc will get the Alwaysurnians involved. DETAIL NOTE: Weapon-resistant though the Wendigoes are, they still need to breathe. Being subject to drowning always made them reluctant to attempt violence against mer-people.

 

[Copperfox]

The colony planet called Freesoil, which encloses the Hollow-Earth-ish realm of Bazookadar, would need some review even if I _hadn't_ chosen to give it an Edgar Rice Burroughs-tribute interior. Freesoil was one of the earliest not-a-direct-Earth-variant worlds I created for my Never-Stopping Story. The first human residents on Freesoil-- not counting the humans indigenous to Bazookadar-- were pioneers from the sub-reality based on the cinematic adaptation of "Starship Troopers." Their intersection with "Spaceballs" elements occurred when Dark Helmet, as part of his redemption, saved the human colonists from being devoured by Creepycrawlids. Two women called Lylah and Krayzee, both connected with Slick Mudpackis (Dark Helmet's birth name), acquired Fuss powers, and also joined the side of good.

Still before anyone on the exterior of Planet Freesoil knew that Bazookadar existed, former slaves rescued from the Empire of Evil Badness were allowed to resettle on this autonomous world. Among these was a middle-aged Tryyurluck woman, a widow named Lumlabbish. Good-looking for her age, and having an extremely likeable personality, Lumlabbish gained the honorable attention of Denzel Powder, a middle-aged human male widower who was a leading figure in the colony's gradually- developing industrial structure. These two got married, with enthusiastic approval from Denzel's family; and later, they were privileged to visit the Cosmic Federation in the Second Galaxy. (That's where I staged my takeoff on the BBC-TV series "Blake's Seven.")

Also moving to Freesoil by convenient plotline measures were some characters derived from Edgar Rice Burroughs' "John Carter on Mars" novels. Most of these were members of a six-limbed sapient race mimicking the Green Martians in the Burroughs books. For narrative convenience, these aliens were miraculously granted an increase of strength, so they could function well in Earth-level gravity. John Cardsharper and Tarp Kanvas were to be in the thick of action on Freesoil from then on. John married the above-named Lylah, while the former Dark Headgear married Krayzee.

Only after all of this-- and after Freesoil was contacted by Earl Pufferton and other officers of the Human Federation-- did the existence of Bazookadar enter the story. The secret world inside Freesoil is based on E.R. Burroughs' "Pellucidar" novels. In order to get that action rolling, I brought additional good guys to join the new adventure. These included characters based on "Space: 1999."

The bad guys in Bazookadar, closely derived from Burroughs' work, are the telepathic reptiles whom I call Wingdingers. Of humans native to Bazookadar (not migrants from elsewhere, they are CREATED RIGHT THERE as part of the premise), the most heroic is named Trampelfar, a man enjoying significant resistance to the Wingdingers' mind control. As of my last segment set in Bazookadar, Trampelfar had won a major victory against the evil pterodactyloids. But since Bazookadar is a full-sized world, there's more to be seen.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On the shore of Rugdamont Island, looking at one of the internal seas of Bazookadar, the black-haired King Trampelfar (slayer of the monstrous King Zegbobo) and his blonde wife Queen Frazetta stood with one humanoid friend and one large-sapient-insect friend. The insect, like an ant the size of an Afghan hound, was the Green Flashlight named Tiptikditpip; the humanoid male, with dark purple skin and hair except lighter- colored face and hands, was a Dishwasheeri named Exmaknor. The first character of this race to have appeared in my epic is Nolarivu, a Heart Sapphire Sister who married a human Green Flashlight on Jersey Earth, and who is acquainted with my version of the old-time comic strip hero Dick Tracy.

"There isn't any habitat like this anywhere in MY sub-universe," declared Exmaknor. "Nor did Fishbait, OR Admiral Skrawn, ever mention discovering such a place." His first reference was to Dark Fishbait, a long-past ruler of the Dishwasheeri, who had been a high-power down-sider. Due to Fishbait's influence, no Dishwasheeri had been an UP-sider of The Fuss until Exmaknor.

Tiptikditpip waved his antennae. "Wawa, the headquarters of the Flashlight Corps, does contain vast internal habitats, but it is not strictly a hollow planet. The King and Queen here are brave and strong-minded, but they will need to work VERY hard at assimilating knowledge of the universe OUTSIDE Bazookadar."

Trampelfar folded his brawny arms. "It can be done. The Wingdinger youngsters whom we hold as hostages for their people's good behavior are learning the same outside- world facts as Frazetta and I are learning."

Bill Redvest, the Green Flashlight of Planet Latterdawn, had already been valuable to the "Space: 1999"- derived colony for his mechanical expertise before he was given a power- prosthesis by the Janitors of the Universe. Only after his colony achieved a high level of safety and stability could he feel right about journeying far away in space. Coming to Freesoil, Bill had brought along his shape-changing wife, whose very existence among the Latterdawn settlers was a striking example of the Retcon Effect. Versaderma had proven able to confuse the Wingdingers' telepathy by the difference in her brain waves when she would change form. The combined powers of the Redvests, building upon the successes of Trampelfar and his followers, had by now gotten the cruel Wingdingers on the run.

But Bazookadar was a vast enough place to yield more and different adventures. And it was Tiptikditpip who eventually said to the others: "We should contact Green Flashlight John Stewmeat and ask if Nolarivu Stewmeat could come out here. The healing and sustaining powers of the Sapphire Sisterhood could exert a wholesome influence on these underground monsters. Kind of a bad cop, good cop maneuver."

 

[Copperfox]

Bringing a fresh eye to the inside-out nature of Bazookadar, after looking past each side of the central sun, the Fuss user Exmaknor eventually noticed a peculiar feature. Constantly reminding himself that he was looking across much more distance than was ever possible to look along the CONVEX outer surface of any world, he realized that the "tiny" patch of planet he was looking at could not be narrower than a hundred miles in its smallest dimension.

"King Trampelfar, what is THAT gray patch? About an apparent hand's width above the central sun."

After a delay equal to three deep breaths, the King of Rugdamont replied: "That piece of territory lies where it would have been blocked from sight where I lived in boyhood. I just do not know what it is, or what might be found there. Neither did it have any bearing on my adventures after I escaped from slavery. Frazetta, did you ever hear words about that place, or even see it more clearly than we can see it from here with the sun in our eyes?"

"I believe so, husband. It has been called the Choking Valley, because the grayness we see is some kind of smoke. Perhaps our friends who control the color green could fly to it, and examine it close up."

"That," said Exmaknor, "or we could just communicate with John Cardsharper on the outside of this world. Ask him to ask other humans out there to fly to the outside spot nearest to it, then penetrate the rocks near it."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On the outside, John and Lylah were with Denzel and Lumlabbish Powder, plus Tarp Kanvas and the mechanically- talented Abner Littleton, with four of the Greedorks who were part of the diverse community on Freesoil. All of these knew who Exmaknor was. A Jedi- equivalent like the purple-skinned newcomer would not have been able to mind-call across distance to a recipient who had no psionic talent; but the Cardsharpers and the Quasi-Thark were able to register Exmaknor's mental outreach. Of these, Tarp Kanvas was the most capable of sending, so he undertook the mental dialogue with the up-sider who was on Rugdamont in Bazookadar. When the six-limbed Parody-Martian had the gist of the "Choking Valley" business, he made sure that the Cardsharpers understood what was up. Then they filled in the Powders, and asked if Denzel and Lumlabbish could build one or more Banjolorian-style jet packs.

The answer being a guarded Yes from the Powders, Tarp got hold of Exmaknor. We can provide the means of personal flight within six Freesoil days. Discuss the business with the Rugdamonters, and pass along any further information about this gray patch.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

For the benefit of members who AREN'T familiar with "Babylon Five": In that series, the evil aliens called Shadows had some other evil aliens called the Drakh assisting them. My own story has featured a collective parody called the Glukks, connected with "the Shadythings." Months ago, I described an evil invasion striking Planet Chimpanzia, and the Glukks were part of it. Hence this bit of exposition for my readers.

In the time-stream of "Spacebullies: The Search For More Parody," long before Groan Starr was born to Lady Jazzica on Planet Srirachiss, the Glukks discovered the planet which would eventually be named Freesoil. The outside of the planet had no sapient population, but Bazookadar and its living things already existed because literary derivation. The Glukks got inside the hollow planet and formed a colony; they purposely didn't meddle very deeply with Bazookadaran life-forms; they didn't want to attract unfriendly attention from high-level good-aligned forces like the Janitors of the Universe. In their new base of "Choking Valley," they only tampered a little bit, keeping in practice.

 

[Copperfox]

Slick and Krayzee Mudpackis were back at Freesoil's oldest and largest settlement when a subspace- radio call came from a sometime colleague of theirs. It was Perry Kushun who was manning the comms station when Rajah Ramrocket called.

"Perry, is that you?" The former engineering officer of the old Spacebullion mega-mothership knew that the former signals technician had kept up to date on the people working up the world-saving dreadnought. "Our current shakedown cruise is bringing us your way; we'll register on your screens very shortly. How are things dirtside?"

"The real action today is UNDER the dirt."

"So this hollow-planet environment you discovered is not fully pacified yet?"

"The Wingdingers have been thwarted in their efforts to mind-control us remotely," said Perry. "Some of them have even agreed to peace terms. But with the Starship Grunts having gone home, we need to keep up the pressure on Wingdingers who AREN'T seeing reason. The more so because there apparently are new players in the Bazookadar game. The Cardsharpers are poking into this right now."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Rewinding now, about one day before the above dialogue.....

"The promised mounts are almost here," said Keldasaru, a female among those Wingdingers who had genuinely given their allegiance to Rugdamont. She was referring to the fact that her particular tribe did well at domesticating a non-sapient pterodactyloid species. "The two that are coming are especially good at following directions from riders who are accepted as friendly."

Exmaknor used his Fuss intuition to make extra-sure that Keldasaru had spoken the truth. Nodding to her, the purple Fuss user turned to face Queen Frazetta. "Have you and your husband decided about me?"

"Yes, my friend. The newly provided riding-beasts weren't loaned to us to carry persons who already can fly anyway. It will be good for people we encounter close to Choking Valley to see someone who-- being different in appearance from other humanoids-- can be considered impartial, and why give these mounts to persons who could fly to the destination on their own power? This means you and John Cardsharper get the mounts. I, of course, will fly along with you, so that those we visit will see a Wingdinger with you. And Tiptikditpip won't hear of being left out."

Versaderma Redvest now said, "Bill and I will fly at a half-day lag behind you, in case you need backup. At need, we can close the distance very fast. And King Trampelfar will wait to meet the outer- worlders when they come up the tunnel to deliver the promised jetpacks."