Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

I remind readers that Sorcery Lass of Castle Greyhair has been on both Redundantworld and Anoxia, but that she is currently at home on Alwaysurnia, having committed herself to the redemption of Ickylinn One. Make it happen!

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In Sorcery Lass' private chambers, three generations of nobility were attending the supernatural upholder of the dynasty. Dickon "Weapons-Man" Docker-- a widower, if I remember my own writing-- understood best what was occurring, what revolved around the original incarnation of the chaotic-evil witch Ickylinn. Princess Teerifica, wife of Mighty Male, understood well enough. She herself had been impersonated by a stronger-than-usual Face Twister-- who, since being redeemed, was known as Glad Ruthie Exculpa. The third witness was little Darshurima, Teerifica's daughter by Prince Andy. No harm could come to the child inside Sorcery Lass' place of power, and her innocence was intended to be a component of Ickylinn's exorcistic deliverance.

Not for the first time, the beautiful-but-wicked woman lay quietly on a sort of operating table. The witnesses were praying for success; remember, my premise is that, in story-based worlds, there >can< be spell-casting which >isn't< a sinful rebellion against God, so prayer is not a contradiction. Sorcery Lass was the only one speaking aloud.

"Magician Ickylinn, you were born as Ixurlee, daughter of Karlikoth and Surdavel in Darting Wind Province. You enjoyed a versatile education, including higher mathematics and six languages. Most vitally, Karlikoth and Surdavel collaborated expertly in teaching you all the elements of righteousness. But at age fourteen, after poking into foul magic, you decided that you were better than your siblings; then decided that you were better than your parents; then decided that you were better than the King and Queen.... and finally decided that even so horrid a person as Skamartistor would be good in your eyes, if he would overthrow Rentakar and Maldeva, then let you enjoy royal privilege and luxury, _without_ your being expected to accept responsibility or care about the people of your planet.

"This inevitably led to you joining Skamartistor in sedition against the royal family....."

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In the remote hideout he currently shared with the duplicate Ickylinn, Tyrone Glass Nielsen, alias Mister Tectonic, sensed by means of his improved micro-drones that the gene-source of his current cohabitant was in danger of turning good.

"Wake up, smooth-skin! I sense that your other self is being attacked by forces of moralism!"

"Fmumfurf.... Oh. _That's_ what my nightmare was about! Can you sense a direction?"

"Yes; and your spells can strengthen me for a counter-narrative. Let's get started."

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Paradoxically, the sensation which soon began in the magical annex of Castle Greyhair was generated by Tyrone's words, yet can scarcely be _described_ with words. The narcissistic God-hater was riding high over his past successes at injecting _his_ notions into story-realities. This time he was reaching across more distance than most cases, >and< into the territory of a demigoddess; but he was on a roll. The online-story-type narration poured forth from his mind, and the inverted-cross mark on his forehead gleamed in anticipation of sabotaging the impending conversion out of evil badness.(Ickylinn Two had made no secret of her wish eventually to meet her genetic template in _agreement,_ not in strife.)

"Sorcery Hag thought she had an easy task before her. Dominating people in a sub-universe which favored mechanical devices would not have been any challenge for Ickylinn, so her magical talent would surely have atrophied from a lack of strain. In this surety, as if supervising castle furniture movers, she off-handedly commanded Ickylinn to give up her intellect and blindly submit to hateful religion.

"All at once, Ickylinn sprang up from the table. While the wizardess gawked in disbelief, the strong independent wammun tossed Weapons-Man to the far end of the room. The dumb blonde stayed frozen in horror as Ickylinn flung Teerifica to the other end.

"For Darshurima, it was enough for Ickylinn to say 'Boo!' and the little twit soiled herself. Then Ickylinn shouted at the cringing Sorcery La-La Lander, 'You are outdated; now, dry up, old biddy!' The sorcerous has-been collapsed....."

This was as far as the story got before Ickylinn Two became unable to boost Tyrone's signal any longer. On Planet Alwaysurnia, Ickylinn One sat up and looked at Darshurima--who, in reality, had _not_ soiled herself. Neither had Weapons-Man or Teerifica been hurled anywhere. Ickylinn One sat up and blinked, looking at Sorcery Lass. "That was Tyrone, wasn't it?"

The sorceress nodded. "Not as unbeatable as he thinks he is."

Ickylinn displayed her first smile in decades which _wasn't_ cynical. "I'm a witness now." Then she sprang up to kiss Weapons-Man, Teerifica, Darshurima and Sorcery Lass in joyful succession.

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The narcissistic Mister Tectonic realized the depth of his failure only when Weapons-Man appeared in his hideout, flanked by raygun-carrying soldiers, _and_ by Ixurlee, formerly Ickylinn One. "You can't be here!" he shrieked. "I scrambled your perceived reality! I am the invinci--" Classic villain-mistake of monologuing.

His reserve T-Sneers might still have enabled him to get away; but before he could mentally order them to interfere with the arresting squad, Weapons-Man's fists broke his jaw, knocked the wind out of his lungs, and put him on the floor less than half conscious. Ixurlee ran to her astounded Goulash copy and embraced her.

"Junior, it's me, Senior! I can't condemn you for anything you've done; you were only doing things I would have done before I saw the truth. Please allow me, allow the _good_ people to help you cross over to the light. What is _totally_ certain is that Mister Tectonic will never again be anything more impressive than a narcissistic university professor-- if the prison he goes to even _allows_ him to do any teaching.

"But hopefully, Jackman Hughes on Heyho Earth will get his researchers busy figuring out how to replicate the T-Sneers left behind by Tyrone, so as to use them for good."

The two clone-twins clung tightly together, while the soldiers policed the captured hideout.

Score one for the good guys.
 
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"Between us, Captain, I'm not sure what I expected to see in a distant galaxy."

Captain Patriot shrugged. "Well, oxygen is oxygen anywhere you find it, even if you're not on an Earth-variant. And some folks are here whom we already know, or at least have heard of. Also, I told you, you can call me Steve."

Carried by the starship to Redundantworld, Steve Roughroad and former villainess Marcie Graze were welcomed by persons whom they >had< at least heard of: Dmitri "Tapper Cossack" Tarasov, Lumina "Aluminum Banshee" Tarasova (these two from Urth), and (less familiar to the Seedubb Earthlings) Lowerkey of Hallpasscard. Lowerkey, I remind readers, is a Loki-equivalent who, like Black Admiral, had never been evil. After the Loki variant of Hallpasscard perished on Mediumgard by his own fault, and after Lowerkey's native world Flashgard was destroyed by a force of mega-villains, both Hallpasscard and Jumpstard had given homes to survivors. Thorpe Thunder-Master had taken Lowerkey under his wing, glad to gain a brother who _wasn't_ evil. When the Jumpstardeans native to Galaxy Three requested support from the Hallpasscardeans of Galaxy One, Lowerkey had been more than glad to accompany Thorpe to Redundantworld.

"I shall have to say hello and goodbye in quick order," Lowerkey told the new arrivals. "Action here has tapered off enough that I can allow myself to go visit my sister Queen Frypanna."

"What is she the queen of?"

"Her domain is probably the clearest Earth-equivalent in this galaxy. While Flashgard existed, that iteration of Earth enjoyed a relationship with my family like the relationship which Mediumgard enjoys with my adoptive family on Hallpasscard. Those who destroyed Flashgard were eventually punished, but that version of Earth now bears the name of Orphan Earth. With no clear human heir surviving to assume rule, the humans there willingly took my sister as their monarch. Queen Wagga and other Jumpstardeans have taken it upon themselves to make regular security checks on Orphan Earth; and two Mediumgard Earthers are there full time until further notice. Those last are Android Eyesight, and his mutant wife Crimson Witch. Because in their sub-reality Eyesight was never killed, Crimson Witch never became embittered.

The pale-skinned Aluminum Banshee interjected: "Prince Lowerkey, Astrosmeller is waiting to teleport you to Orphan Earth. I'll take over the introductory business here." Lowerkey excused himself, and Lumina looked straight at Marcie. "The starship's passenger list mentioned you as belonging to the ranks of _converted_ evildoers. Relax, >I'm< also an EX-villain. So is the suave gentleman over this way...."

"Welcome to the supra-terrestrial playground," rumbled a golem over three meters tall. "I am called Sullivan Grungy. I was evil for a long time, a member of the Super-Gang of Naughty Persons, as was Martin Alpert on my native world. Martin was driven insane by radiation effects. I was far worse than he was; I was literally demonic. But mighty champions of light led me out of darkness-- not least of these a Free Methodist pastor named Obed Whippler, and the helicopter pilot named Preston Vincent, who became King Truthside. These, and others of strong spirit, showed confidence that I would accomplish noble deeds."

Marcie walked right up to Sullivan and shook hands by clasping two of his fingers. "Your history resonates with me, Mister Grungy. I also have been led out of darkness. Knowing what a diverse army of good guys is in the field here, I'm going to ask Steve over there to ask for us to be included in whatever mission _you_ may next undertake."

A local demi-woman who had picked up some English heard the talk as Captain Patriot was filled in on the proposal to assist Sullivan Grungy. Of course, the Seedubber was amenable to the idea. But before any action could begin, the female native returned from wherever she had walked away to.

"The chieftain who flies in circles-- Tixodug, is it?-- is coming this way, carrying another man."

Diskoduck of Planet Directvideo had brought his cousin-in-law Groan Starr, the first Fuss up-sider to be seen onstage in this _ENTIRE_ story. The second son of the deceased Duke Neato Ashtrayides the Pure-Hearted and Generally Likeable. The genetic son of Giles Magg who was the Goulash clone of Neato. The brother of Trala-Lalia of the Spoon. The uncle of Paul Muddy-Drip's gifted son, Duke Stillneater the Incorruptible. The man who first made Seedubb Earth aware of the Jalapeno power, though he had not acquired it himself.

In the ensuing conversation, since he was acquainted with Steve Roughroad, Groaner's eyes were on him when they weren't on Marcie or Sullivan. Diskoduck and others were listening. The most crucial thing Groaner said was as follows:

"Early in my adventures with Princess Vixen and Puke the Kashorcheckian demi-human, when I had barely begun to understand my Fuss talents, I found out about something called Hopecrusher Central. This refers at once to a hidden extra-dimensional place, and to the warped beings who inhabit it. Those beings hate everyone but themselves. The Creator won't permit them to destroy worlds, but He does permit them to try their worst to RUIN ALL STORIES. They want to convince people of every reasoning species that there are no _happy_ endings; that life can only slide downhill into despair."

"I believe that this weird being called Lowblow either was created by, or decided to collaborate with, Hopecrusher Central. And he is clearly a prized asset for them. So he needs to be taken down; and contrary to what the Hopecrushers would have us believe, he >can< be killed, or made weak at the least."
 
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At a simple campsite in Redundantworld's tropics, Princesses Deanna and Grrrryll woke up together. They simultaneously asked each other, "Do you smell something?" Both replied in unison: "Reptiles!"

Coming to their feet, they sighted something resembling a Stegosaurus. Grasping Walloper Woman's arm, the redeemed only daughter of Twerpseid asked, "Could this be from the dinosaur-cloning project your mother Hiptubeeskwerra was monitoring?"

"Not likely. The Yummyzons have no teleportation facilities."

"True, they don't," replied Jamsorvad, the widely-traveled baboon-shaped Green Flashlight, coming into view, his eyes on Deanna. "This is a Redundantworld beast; pure coincidence that it's here. Shimtuku, Plabdof and I have been looking for you, because one _male_ metahuman from your Earth-variant eagerly desires to get in on the adventure of helping the Redundantworlders achieve stability."

"Iron Punch?" Deanna guessed.

"Nailed it. Any moment now, Lord Katmatao--" (referring to the leader of the Green Flashlight Corps) "--will see that I've located you and Grrrryyll, and he'll send the gentleman here."

Grrrryyll began a question: "Does he know that we avoid--?"

The karate superhero materialized. "I know that you and your fellow princess won't harm any living creature without cause. Neither will I." He noted a dead tree standing close by, and punched through it with ease. "I have plenty of non-fatal neutralizing moves up my sleeve."

"So does Doc Slippage," Deanna said. "He now possesses a magic sword, formerly carried by a villain called Deathstink. With crowds always forming around his people-and-animals hospital, Doc needs a weapon which can halt a troublemaker at close quarters, wounding them just enough."

"Sounds like the right assignment for me," replied Iron Punch, and Katmatao soon transported him. Aware that the two tough-chick besties could handle almost anything. Jamsorvad left them to their own plans.

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Timekall of Hallpasscard, manning the Dentfloss Bridge, took charge of delivering the destined heroes to where precognition said Lowblow the cosmic bounty hunter would show himself. Assigned specifically to engage the super- scoffer were Sullivan Grungy, Gray Grump, Sapphire Sister Tiba-bo-Tola, Captain Patriot, and the ex-criminal Marcie Graze. The number of G's here is pure coincidence. For another G-name, King Garryowen of Hallpasscard had been informed by his magic ravens Ignore-It and Forget-It that there _was_ a meaningful task to be covered by Marcie Graze, who was a crack shooter. Timekall had told her: "The evildoers have obtained some surplus Chipotli combat-bots, to come at you from the side when you face Lowblow. You shall be armed well enough to stop many of them; they will be without their accustomed laser guns."

When the bounty hunter's flying bike descended into view, he cut loose with a blaster shot at Gray Grump; it was deflected by Tiba's Heart Sapphire energy. She next formed the likeness of a traffic- clearance bar, which swept the white-faced fiend off of his sky-bike. Before Lowblow hit dirt, his battle-robot allies were attacking Marcie. She blinded the artificial eyes of the foremost assailants with gunfire, but there were just too many of them. Steve Roughroad, however, waded into the Chipotli like a runaway train.

Although Bryce Donner had invented Hulk-ness, he had scarcely any experience in Hulk-ing around. But leaping came easily enough. Unfortunately, Lowblow had _lots_ of experience at fighting. Bryce's momentum hadn't even been halted before Lowblow hit him three times. Landing on his back, he was able to recover his breath only because his new sweetheart shielded him again. So Lowblow, an equal-opportunity bully, it gave the crimson- haired heroine a backhand blow. Her forehead gem just managed to dissipate the impact before it came loose. This was when shame for his poor performance got Gray Grump really moving at last. Punches which would have killed a hippopotamus didn't kill the cosmic troll, but did make him stagger backwards.

And Lowblow smiled. "That's more like it! I do better when someone hurts me!" Right then, Captain Patriot's shield knocked the raygun out of his hand. Undismayed by this, he delivered a double punch to Bryce's chest, and Gray Grump landed forty feet away.

Readers may wonder what Sullivan Grungy was doing all this time. Copperfox reminds you that it takes time to _type_ the narration of a fight scene, especially when the typist has arthritic fingers. All the action in this post, up to this paragraph, lasted for barely over a minute as the characters experienced time; and the benign undead person was the slowest character in the scene. But Sullivan had his own hole card. Captain Patriot bought his ally an extra eight seconds with an otherwise ineffective attack on Lowblow; the inter-galactic outlaw broke the Captain's right leg while flinging him against Marcie.

And then the Frankenstein Monster of Urth was upon Lowblow, catching him by the ankles and hurling him straight up into the sky. Not accepting defeat, Lowblow twisted in his descent, hands downward with intent to grapple. Sullivan caught him, broke both of his wrists, and dashed him to the ground.

"You not know crucial fact." Sullivan lapsed into his old sloppy manner of speaking, but his fully-human spirit was not impaired. "Grungy have _more_ bouncing back than you have. You grow back before from only piece of you left, but Grungy come back many times from like be in Bad Place. You always say no after-living let you in-- but Grungy have power _make_ you stay not alive."

Gray Grump had reverted into Bryce Donner; Tiba-bo-Tola had encased his torso in a solid-light body cast which adjusted to his changing size. "Wait, Sullivan! We don't want to be the same as him!"

The good-aligned golem looked at Bryce. "Even Grungy know Lowblow not deserving live to kill more people better than him. Grungy not buy moral same-valence. But Grungy _will_ give Lowblow fair chance. Lowblow, is being people gooder than you and smarter than Grungy, able send you back to cave of good-thinking dragon. But not waste time. You having only fair chance once. Agree not more make trouble, and mercy get."

Lowblow took a long breath. "So I'm supposed to live choking and gagging on boring goodness?"

"Don't forget, you have someone back there who loves you!" Bryce exclaimed.

Lowblow spat at this. "Sure, and I actually love Hipstera too. But our love is built on the knowledge that good is dumb and evil is cool. I won't disappoint her, and I _will_ disappoint you!" He tried once more to attack Sullivan Grungy.... and Sullivan crushed his skull.

Two seconds later, Lowblow realized clearly, and too late, that for the rest of eternity he would STAY in The Bad Place, and he WOULD NOT be allowed to swagger and boast anymore. Unlike Lex Loozor of Seedubb, Lowblow had enjoyed more than enough independent will that he _could_ have repented at any time. He had scoffed at goodness in full understanding of what he was rejecting, and he would henceforth face eternity in total awareness that this was all his own fault.

Meanwhile, Tiba bo-Tola juggled her powers to simulate casts and bandages on all of her wounded friends. Astrosmeller would soon take note of them, and would transfer them to Doc Slippage's field hospital. It wouldn't be long before Tiba with Bryce, and Steve with Marcie, would be united in simultaneous weddings performed by Rabbishop Malarkey, and would be enjoying all the satisfactions of true love.

To complete the satisfaction, at some future time and offstage but still delightful to those affected, Bleeder the Vampire Killer would introduce Grungy to a suitably-tall undead woman of some kind, who had joined the side of good like Angel on television, and these two would also find true love.
 
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SIDE QUEST: Since we last saw them, Stradivarian & Gasfilla had covered another 241 miles on their native "old" Earth. This, if we measure in a straight line relative to planetary curvature, but they did probe south and north. Communities they visited along the way were all adjusting to having more liquid water available for use; this tended to confirm the Creator's promise that icecap reduction would be slow enough so people and beasts could adjust. No run-ins with Neesheedors during this period.

In keeping with Gene Wolfe's "New Sun" series, they were in the equivalent of South America. But here, there was a large, convenient gap in the Andes Mountains, a little south of the center of Chile. It had been glacier- blocked, but had just lately become passable. Runoff in both directions had created lakes; and the Actual God appeared to have created schools of edible fish.

At a recently-established village, a wise woman calling herself Tuzzbai applied herself to sign-language communication with the adventuring couple. Several of her neighbors took interest, and offered suggestions. Gasfilla had the inspiration to draw pictures in the dirt with a stick ass further interpretation. The substance of the dialogue went like this:

Tuzzbai: You carry a big knife like chiefs in (she recognizably names two cities known to Stradivarian). Do you come to punish someone?

Stradivarian: I do not. In the past, I was a punisher in a great city. But I departed from there last year. Now my wife and I (true enough, since he and Gasfilla unanimously intended to solemnize their union when somebody suitable turned up to do it) are scouting for signs of people who make trouble for others. They call themselves Neesheedors. (Of course he spoke the name aloud, since he knew no meaning of that name which he could have turned into signing language.)

Tuzzbai: What kind of trouble do Neesheedors make?

Stradivarian: They want to tell everyone else what to do. If anyone listens to them, they tell people to march around and talk. They make people stupid.

Tuzzbai: What can they gain by doing this?

Stradivarian: I only know it makes them feel good. Maybe they won't bother you. But sometimes there are.... other people with them. _Different_ people. Metal covers them. If you see _them,_ run! Take your children and run for your lives. Those ones are evil. If they don't come this way, still warn other towns about them.

It developed that no one in this mountain gap had seen any Neesheedors >or< Bazonkers. In the remaining time they spent in the area, Stradivarian and Gasfilla _did_ find that the headman of the largest local village was regarded as having credentials to unite couples in marriage.

:::::: Any military veteran reading "Spacebullies" will understand when I say that the former executioner had a sense of Operational Security. His warning against the meddlesome Neesheedors was not giving away anything except that he disapproved of them; but announcing that he possessed a mighty weapon explicitly intended to destroy evil robots would be like distributing "Wanted, Dead" posters against himself and his bride.

))))))
 
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After clearing the pass into Chile and pitching camp at one of the new springs fed by the new mountain runoff, the newlyweds received surprising visitors. Four persons materialized in a beam-us-down moment, not seeming to threaten the travelers. Three were human-- of these, one a black-haired woman-- plus a furry demi-human. Some of the heroes busy on Redundantworld would have recognized this fourth arrival as Puke the Kashorcheckian, a rough equivalent of Wookiees in Star Wars movies.

All four visitors were armed, but their manner was not threatening. Each one bore a shoulder-slung projectile rifle, with plenty of spare magazines on belts. The elder of the human males spoke first, and the native couple found that they could understand him.

"Be assured, friends. We were transported here by a good-aligned being of great abilities, known as Astrosmeller of Jumpstard. I am General Alec Hurdygurdy, an officer of House Ashtrayides, the great house which possesses planets Waterpark, Srirachiss, Greedy Crime, Lousy Sekondhanstor, Bakwudza, Gumwad, Vojodren, and others. The lady here is Princess Vixen of Directvideo, a sovereign planet allied with House Ashtrayides. The other man is her husband, Prince Groan Starr, a member of the Ashtrayides Clan. The demi-human is Lord Puke, lifelong companion to Groan Starr. Lord Astrosmeller, whom I mentioned, is one of numerous high-level sapients who right now are laboring to liberate another planet from evildoers."

Now Vixen added: "We are advised that your world is also harried by forces of evil badness. The four of us are an advance party, aiming to integrate with any people of Earth who dare to fight against the evil here." Vixen wasn't bothering to confuse the pair before them by revealing that there were more than a dozen fully-real Earth-variants. None of the four emissaries mentioned that Puke's Orangutanoid wife had callously left him and taken the children: this occurring on a First Galaxy world where family courts had a perverse habit of siding with whoever was obviously in the wrong.

"We have not brought heavier weapons which would require a long time for your people to learn how to maintain," said Groaner. "But more weapons like ours can be furnished, and they provide excellent penetration. Also, I possess mind-over-matter abilities;" and he levitated a very large rock a hundred yards away.

Not as an attempt at one-upmanship, but in a spirit of open disclosure, Stradivarian told them about the Hagensaber, with its magical power to destroy _machines_ which were dedicated to evil.

The new alliance was agreed upon. While Vixen cultivated friendship with Gasfilla (and the latter bombarded the former with questions about other worlds), Stradivarian shared information with the males about his planet, including the divine reviving of their sun.

Astrosmeller kept his ruler Woollywoofin informed about the progress Groaner's party was making. Bakerstray Bill was intrigued by the uncommon planetary healing which the True Creator was performing, to undo the harm done to this version of Earth by the Everperpetualists. The supercanine monarch assured his son: "Subject to the obligation we have accepted for the cleansing of Redundantworld, we should soon be able to lend a helping paw to Sir Stradivarian's people."

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Doctor Handmitten, once a human being, now liked to believe he was AT LEAST a god. Being butt-kicked by Lowblow had shredded his confidence; but the white-faced outlaw's death had made that humiliation a non-issue. Still, there were mighty champions of decency on Redundantworld, not to be disregarded. So the energy-fiend resolved to seize and keep the initiative.

This came to the attention of the comparatively-virtuous Living Appeals Court while he was lecturing natives. It came in the form of a blazing plasma wave, as the three-faced lecturer was educating locals about the difference between tort cases and criminal cases. One moment, Mason Perry was explaining complex points for the benefit of rural rustics; next moment, the nuclear flame had sent Mason and sixteen Redundantworlders to The Good Place, and inflicted severe sunburn on ten others. Appeals Court, unlike Handmitten, was fully flesh and blood. He had his right-side head and shoulder burned away (that arm fell off entirely), and his middle head blinded. The remaining viable head still could control his bodily functions, but lesser burns inside the shared lungs left him sagging with weakness.

Handmitten would now have finished his enemy, had not three Green Flashlights been given a minute's notice by the never-sleeping Astrosmeller. The cricket-shaped Shimtuku, the baboon-shaped Jamsorvad, and the brick-shaped Poradsimu interposed overlapping energy shields which blocked the intended finishing blast. The Hallpasscardean healer Welbymark was quickly brought to the scene by Thunder-Master Thorpe, and--ignoring danger to himself-- got to work repairing Appeals Court's frightful damage.

Realizing that three Flashlights plus a demigod were already a threat to be reckoned with, and that more superheroes might come after him at any moment, Handmitten exited atmosphere and went to warp speed. He purposely set his initial course well removed from the way to Deteriorating Earth. It was nearly certain that potential punishers would >not< know that the former human had been there. After a detour to return to the defrosting world, he was confident that he could get the Bazonkers organized as his own army before even Timekall and Astrosmeller could figure out where he had fled.

Making the best use of his respite, Handmitten recharged his batteries with radiation absorbed from a remote, planet-less dwarf star. His depraved mind was indulging in the expectation of a hegemony comprising thirty or forty inhabited star systems-- within the first decade.

His secrecy had not yet been penetrated at the time he received subspace-radio acknowledgement from a tactical unit of Bazonkers. The combined hero-force on Redundantworld still had not picked up his trail.... but someone else, much farther away, >did< perceive him.

The Second (Andromeda) Galaxy had far fewer super-powered heroes than the other two. Apart from Block Atom, a few Green Flashlights, and inhabitants of New Laziness, _nobody_ in this galaxy enjoyed top-tier super-ness except a former highway patrolman on the human-populated planet Madmaksilon. This was in a federation that was like where Spock had a beard. A sociopathic human woman called Vernacula Scurvylaff had assumed rule there by assassinating her predecessor. Lodge Flake and his second cousin Royurbota had become disaffected with tyranny, and their consequent adventures had culminated in their marriage; also in his acquiring combative abilities to rival King Truthside and Black Admiral. Lodge's paladin-quality virtues had inspired the hero-name of Captain Rightawrong.

Though not recently portrayed onstage in my serial, Lodge still had many evils to defeat, in regions I never described, even after justice prevailed in the Cosmic Federation. But he took thought for when he could allot some time to help out in Galaxy Three. Dependent on the attributes of his abilities, he could get over to that galaxy and return again. More will be told as Lodge gets drawn into Third Galaxy events.
 
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On Deteriorating Earth, a swelling Pacific Ocean had entered the lowest elevations of what had been one sizeable island, re-dividing it into what we would call the Hawaiian Islands. The True Creator, having promised not to let the recovery of ocean levels be disastrous, had raised Australia and New Zealand so that none of their surface area would become submerged. This Earth _would_ be changed, but divine wisdom would not permit this to become an extinction event.

Still, where local events were concerned, He was not going to nullify all bad effects of people's free will. This included the choices of the long-dead-and-condemned persons who had invented the Bazonkers. In this connection, we now drop in on some of the detestable Neesheedors.

"Minor daughters come this way!" shouted a robed man. "Minor sons come this way!" shouted a robed woman. When the movement was complete, the man barked, "Come on, feel the noise! Girls, curse the boys!" Not raised for crudeness, the girls extemporaneously shouted any insults they could make up. The woman commanded the boys, "Go wild, wild, wild!" The boys, ignoring the girls, ran around pretending to panic. This went on for a few minutes.... until a Bazonker showed itself, and was welcomed as if it were the featured speaker at a convention.

"We... of... the technical... communion... are... pleased... to encounter... teachable... carbon-based ...organic... units... which... can be... permitted... to continue... functioning. You... will be... taught... how to... operate... in unanimous... conformity..."

The inspiring speech was cut short by four holes appearing in the robot: three in the head from different angles, and a fourth in center body mass. Alec, Vixen and Gasfilla had fired the first three shots, with care not to hit any actual people. Puke's body shot both reckoned with his greater possibility of missing and killing a human, and reckoned with the likelihood that part or all of the Bazonker's thinking capacity was in its body rather than in the simulated skull. One way or another, they brought the automaton down.

The heroes' attack was coordinated. In that part of the crowd which was farthest from the gunfire, Groan Starr landed from a mighty leap: landed where he wouldn't hit any humans with Fuss lightning. His lightning fried the circuits of the two robots nearest in front of him. A Bazonker behind him caught his leg with plier-like pincers, but his Fuss telekinesis forced the pincers open, and he sprang out of the way.

Not to set a predictable pattern, Groaner switched to levitating people away from the homicidal robots. His four gun-equipped companions kept up their carefully-aimed fire, into parts of the turmoil where they could be surest of not shooting people. Every Neesheedor going farther away was another line of fire opened for the snipers.

It was up to Stradivarian to time his own onslaught. He had neither any ranged attack form, nor Fuss powers to help him evade bullets; but give him reachable targets....

Think of the corridor scene at the end of "Rogue One;" just _don't_ think about the fact that the rebels should have shot at _every_ height simultaneously, from Darth Vader's boot soles to the top of his helmet, and he _wouldn't_ have been able to block >all< of their shots. I love to call out plot holes. Anyway, the Bazonkers had no guns, their murderous pincers being deadly enough. The former executioner was in his element now, hacking and stabbing, the Hagensaber puncturing and cleaving Bazonker armor as if it were paper. Not one of the genocide machines escaped; and in the outcome, Stradivarian killed more of them than all his companions combined.

Gasfilla scrambled down from her firing position, to hug and kiss him with frenzied relief. Princess Vixen did as much with Prince Groan Starr. Puke and Alec exchanged a glance which silently said: Yeah, somebody has to be the supporting character who DOESN'T get the girl. But they didn't realize that they were in the same position as horror-movie characters who make the mistake of saying, "We're safe now."

A sick blue light filled everything. An optical illusion made it seem that Handmitten's face was filling half of the sky. Then the radioactive demon came into focus, as it were-- still huge enough.

"Feeble fools," the chaotic-evil titan scoffed. "You have no chance against--"

But then the chance appeared: around the size of a Hulk version, but more human. Assume Captain Rightawrong to possess a suitable costume. He seemed to be carrying a normal-sized man with him; this figure leaped clear, not landing close to anyone else. Pointing one arm like a gun, Lodge Flake shot what seemed like a continuous watery ripple in the air, which knocked Handmitten backwards and held him down, writhing in distress. The mega-hero then shouted to the other good guys: "Let my friend advise you! He knows how to destroy the monster!"

After one intensified blast at the super-villain, Captain Rightawrong seemed to wind down, his punishing charge only maintaining. His regular- sized friend had reached Groan Starr, and proved to be a cyborg.

"Listen, Prince Groan. We know who you are, and we know that you wield the up-side of The Fuss. Doctor Handmitten's evil research took him to the Even Downer-Than -Down Side: a depravity beyond human understanding. It takes a great force of goodness to beat him. Hector von Bootblack-- you know who he is--told us that >you< can put Handmitten down, if the Captain weakens him first. Handmitten is beyond redemption, a heartless murderer, with nothing human left in him. He needs to die before he murders again. Use your Fuss lightning, aim at where his heart used to be. Get over there! He's vulnerable! As soon as the Captain disappears, _finish_ the attack!"

Less than three minutes had elapsed when Lodge Flake vanished. Not requesting any more details, Groaner made a Fuss- boosted leap; and before he landed, he was already shooting bolts with both hands. Doctor Handmitten shrieked, "You are inferior! You are an insect! I... will... obliterrrr...."

What seemed both an explosion and an implosion propelled Groan Starr back. The faithful Puke broke his fall. All that remained of Doctor Handmitten was his condemned soul dropping into abyss. He and Lowblow now had all eternity to argue over who had been more evil than whom. .
 
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The first other good guy to reach Groaner and Puke was Alec Hurdygurdy, closely followed by Princess Vixen and Gasfilla. Stradivarius, not yet satisfied that the coast was clear, watched every direction. "I can help," Alec assured the distraught Vixen. Producing something like a large pill, he inserted it in Groaner's mouth. Instead of choking the former space-rogue, it dissolved effortlessly, assimilated uniformly into Groan Starr's metabolism.

As if lecturing cadets of the Ashtrayides army, Alec explained: "Lady Jazzica, Groan Starr's mother, had a Penny Jezebel premonition of this very day. She foresaw that Groaner would expend all of his Fuss power in destroying a demonic monster." Looking now at the former Jedi-equivalent: "But like purging a databank and recording new software, this emptying would enable you, in compensation, to acquire Penny Jezebel talents as your elder brother Paul Muddy-Drip did. My giving you a dose of The Jalapeno has made this possible.

"You no longer can organically form a light saber through a Fuss ring; neither can you generate hand-shields or lightning. But you can still wield a self-contained lightsaber if you acquire one. Psionically, you cannot any longer plant suggestions, like saying that a droid _isn't_ the droid someone is looking for. But in exchange, you gain the coercive effect of The Chatter: making people do things they don't want to do."

Vixen frowned. "That sounds down-side to me."

"Only if used for evil, Your Highness. You have been around your mother-in-law enough to know that she never uses The Chatter to tyrannize people. Neither will your husband do so."

Now Stradivarius interjected: "In case the rest of you forgot, we still have someone robot-like standing close by. Cyborg, we want to know more about you, and _why_ this 'Captain' of yours needed to depart."

The cyborg nodded. "My name is Chutnykorn. I was mechanized in the Cosmic Federation; and it was my cyborg state which kept me stable when a mystery plague rendered full-human males retarded. A she-devil named Kennedweeba, highly placed in the Hopecrushers' leadership, was overseeing their biological warfare. I became involved with investigating this crisis, as were Lodge Flake and his second cousin and eventual wife Royurbota. I believe Lodge was able to resist the dumbing down because he shared some of her Dahudoran heredity. Many heroes from the First Galaxy aided us in this effort, including the famous Green Flashlights Parbellik Magta and Jamsorvad. Prince Groan, you will recall that your former enemy Slick Mudpackis, alias Dark Headgear, also fought there on the side of good. The evil was finally undone, and the cosmic changes led to Lodge's astonishing empowerment.

"No one has completely analyzed _how_ he turned into Captain Rightawrong, but the leading factor was exposure to the plotline- advancing substance miguffinite. I certainly have never fully determined what there is that he _can't_ do. But one limitation is glaringly evident: he can't _always_ be his ultra-super self. Absolute maximum as metahuman, six consecutive days. Then he has to be a normal human for at least as much time as he was the Captain.

"At the time Lodge learned of your crisis, he had just come from a hard-fought victory over Second Galaxy villains whom you never heard of. Not necessary to describe them, they're no threat to the worlds you know. Anyway, the good wizard Hector von Bootblack told Lodge about your crisis here. He transported Lodge to this planet, and sent me with him so I would be here to explain things to you. Because at that point Lodge had only been recharging for three minutes, he had to hurry up and weaken Doctor Handmitten enough so Groan Starr would be able to finish the job, then blink home to restart his re-powering clock."

"So are you stranded here?" asked Gasfilla.

"I do know that there are beings in this galaxy who can transport me home. But I have nothing urgent waiting back in the Cosmic Federation." Looking at Groan Starr: "I'm interested to see how you manage your power-change." Looking at Stradivarian: "Even more interested in helping >you< to rid this planet of the Bazonkers."
 
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As part of narrowing my range of concurrent plot arcs, I need to retrieve more early characters in addition to Groan Starr. I >definitely< need to bring back my version of Prequel-Era Obi-Wan Kenobi, whom I married off to my redeemed version of Asajj Ventress. For sure, Master Champ and Cortexa. Narrowing the focus does not at all prevent me from still adding a >few< new characters, provided they interact with existing characters of mine.

-------- Some of the Hotblood Matrons who had never accepted the lawful rule of Stillneater the Incorruptible had been keeping a low profile, but never giving up on their hatred of constitutional governance, nor their hatred of men who declined to be dominated.

About one standard year before the events in the previous chapter, they visited Planet Powurkord, which for most of its inhabited history had not been part of the Republic of Lots of Worlds. Here they found a very young woman, thin and average-looking, called Bray Galpowerteen (accenting the first and fourth syllables, as in the word "variable"), who was eking out a livelihood as a junk scavenger, collecting anything that industrial recycling plants would pay for. All of the Hotbloods who met her, although they were not Fuss users, intuitively knew that she could become a superb sabotage device against the Up-Side Fellowship. Therefore, crossing specialty lines, they did all they could to turn her into a down-sider masquerading as an up-sider.

Moving forward in time, to a point just weeks before the events in the just-completed sequence:

Bray is going to meet a pair of existing characters who possess much better sense than she has.

I remind readers that my epic portrays alien races derived from the "Babylon Five" series. This includes the hairless but humanoid Narns, to whom I refer as "Goldarnits from Planet Goldarn." With a bit of biological adjustment, Earthlings and Goldarns can produce viable offspring together. Doctor Frank Stevia on Bubblewrap Five is familiar with such procedures, and he enabled a fertile marriage between human space captain Rajah Ramrocket of the dreadnought "Wisdom One" and the Goldarn businesswoman B'Taolo. They had fallen in love in the best way, by starting as friends. (Yes, I know that I've depicted love-relationships beginning in an instant, e.g. between the reformed Harpy Grinn and Alphonse Nickelworth on Seedubb Earth; but those were precipitated by super-characters like Master Yoga-Rug, who could spot pairs of characters who were perfect for each other.)

We now join Rajah and B'Taolo at a time when "Wisdom One" is undergoing routine maintenance at an orbital station above Powurkord. I seem to recall that the dreadnought had been in the star system which contains Redundantworld, but I've imagined enough space-jumping resources that "Wisdom One" can be back in the Milky Way Galaxy now but return to Galaxy Three when it's called for.

The legitimate use of Powurkord's orbital-garage facilities made it ethically acceptable for the spouses to go planetside and inspect a business venture in which B'Taolo had invested her personal funds. It was a large plantation for a vegetable product which most oxygen-breathing sapients could eat with solid nutritional benefit. It was called sploosh, and could be eaten raw or cooked.

Mr. and Mrs. Ramrocket were strolling hand in hand along a path between plots for slightly different strains of sploosh, when they saw the 105-pound girl sitting in the center of one plot, squashing a dozen sploosh plants while eating the edible part of another. Exchanging a glance with Rajah, B'Taolo casually approached the unconcerned girl.

Bray spoke first: "How do you like my sploosh field? I have a real gift for agriculture."

Goldarns couldn't do an ironic eyebrow lift as well as humans could, but B'Taolo did well enough. "Just when did you acquire our sploosh field?"
Bray gestured vaguely, saying, "I obtained this vacant land by grant of the Heptagorta half a Powurkordean year ago."

Before Mrs. Ramrocket could reply, Captain Ramrocket assumed a blank facial expression, saying in a monotone: "You obtained this vacant land by grant of the Heptagorta half a Powurkordean year ago."

"Thank you, strangers. We might speak again sometime soon."

"We might speak again sometime soon"-- and Rajah firmly tugged B'Taolo's arm, leading her away. Only after they were far out of the trespasser's view did Rajah speak in his normal voice again: "That girl has Fuss powers. She was using the mind trick. Even if she's an amateur, we can't be certain of our ability to deal with her. She might in fact have gotten Heptagors on her side by mental manipulation. I intend to bring her to the attention of up-siders who definitely can resist being mind-controlled by her."

The next morning, though not yet successful at obtaining an appointment with any member of the elected ruling council, the Ramrockets met another adventurous couple who were known to them: Dim Jargon the Banjolorian, and his blind but highly capable wife Ying Tien-Hai, a native of Anime Earth. She still carried the famous Naskar Spear.

"From your sounds of breathing," the kung-fu lady told the Ramrockets, "one of you is demi-human, walking by the human male's right side."

Dim took it from there. "Have you good people crossed paths with a human girl who has Fuss talent and delusions of grandeur?"

B'Taolo replied, "Yes, and she claimed that our sploosh plantation was her property!"

"I'm not surprised. Her name is Bray Galpowerteen. She claims to have single-handedly saved this planet from the Quark Elves, and to have saved Planet Riggblit from Admiral Skrawn's invasion. Stealing glory from Nonsmoka Tiptoe, who gave her life to save the people there."
 
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Your narrator has in mind another married pair of likeable characters, who have been offstage long enough that I can figure they completed any unfinished business I may have depicted them pursuing. The husband is from Anime Earth: Nabirye Jared (Ugandan man, another case where surname comes first). His wife is Heart Sapphire Joza-Varu-Paf, the demi-human woman whose neck can extend and retract. The part about her neck is genuine authorial discretion: Jared could also extend and retract his neck. For Joza, this was plain racial anatomy; for Jared, it was integral to his acquired super-powers. When he elevated his head, he acquired keen awareness of energy forms. Toss in his permanently possessing the strength of a giraffe (remember that a giraffe can kick a lion to death), and Mr. Nabirye bore the hero-name of Black Giraffe. They have a son, even if never mentioned, who partially inherits his father's bodily strength and sensory enhancement I'll call him Robert. Being gestated inside the body of a Sapphire Sister had resulted in his being able to learn speech within his first month after birth, his father's strength had him walking in his third month, and his energy-sensitivity enabled him to know if a transmission was occurring near him, though he could not extract its meaning.

So by the time this post is happening, Robert is already able to keep up with his parents pretty well.
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The Nabiryes had found love together during past adventures on Powurkord. This made the planet special to them. So it was natural enough that they were nostalgic for it. On this return visit, they were pleased to meet a friend from Planet Kantpoo. Pree-Pree Jodd was a Glugfin girl, of the race corresponding to canonical Jar-Jar Binks. Pree-Pree had previously made a splash, no pun intended, by discovering an ancient Harmonicron underwater in a temple pool. By happy authorial decision, still other friends turned up, including a father-daughter team also from Anime Earth.

Ying Cheng-Li was a master of Eagle Claw kung-fu, dressing the part, and sporting long white hair in the chop-socky movie tradition. He possessed a saber of Chinese design, but made of laminated steel such as would be used for a katana. His grown daughter Ying Tien-Hai had been stricken blind in childhood; but remembering the shapes of things had helped her, when sightless, to develop a sense of her surroundings. Cheng-Li had coached her in wielding spears, batons and staves (the proper English plural of "staff"), because these were easier for her to use without wounding her hands. She could also use a dagger whose hilt guard would equally keep her palm safe.

I forget how the Naskar Spear came into the Yings' custody, but Tien-Hai, now the wife of Dim Jargon, was its bearer now.

We pick up as the Nabiryes, the Yings, Dim and Pree-Pree converge. The Glugfin teenager, who had been developing Fuss abilities for months, shared major news. "Do you remember the Cosmic Fact Checkers? The male spin-off of Heart Sapphires?"

Joza nodded. "One of those boys was named Henshok Vorga. Jared was able to sense their activity, as he can with ours. Weirdest thing was, the gems in their ears wouldn't let them hear anything which didn't agree with all the collectivist blather they had been taught by some of the Heart Sapphires. And the boys had none of the authentic benevolent intentions as almost all of us Heart Sisters lived by."

Pree-Pree took up the thread: "Some of you may recall Tebzaldu, a Powurkordean Heart Sapphire who encouraged the Fact Checkers before. Such Fuss intuition as I have, suggests that she is; and what clues I gathered, argue that now isn't even trying to train them in the good features of that sisterhood."

Joza-Varu-Paf snorted. "To my shame, I was one of the leaders of the Heart Sapphire contingent which interfered with society on Jersey Earth. Cosmic Fact Checkers popped up there, too. A teenager named Sawyer Boyd was the ringleader. As I recall, he even managed to lead them in an interstellar flight to another Earth-variant."

"Mediumgard, it was," answered Cheng-Li. "The scoundrel Drigum Namdre used to live in that world's version of Tibet."

OMNISCIENT NARRATOR SUMMARIZES: The good guys, quite logically, communicate with the ruling Heptagorta and hunt for evidence of more "Fact Checker" initiations. Dim Jargon, with his wife and father-in-law, includes Pree-Pree Jodd in approaching Rajah and B'Taolo Ramrocket. These five begin to investigate Bray Galpowerteen. The circumstance that Hotblood Matrons rather than any gem-wielders worked on Bray, meant that Bray was never giving out the particular aura which Black Giraffe would have anticipated. Accordingly, he, Joza-Varu-Paf and their son Robert elect to look for and interrogate Sapphire Sister Tebzaldu.
 
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I remind you that my directly Star-Wars-ish material, in contrast with Spaceballs-ish material, is more like Prequel Trilogy than like Original Trilogy. Here, Acne-Skin Spacewalker never turned bad, but rather died a hero's death defeating evil. Because the widowed Poormee Armadillo could be proud of her husband, she didn't perish from grief, and her children by Acne-Skin did have their mother in their lives.

Drawing on Clone Wars Era, my version of Obi-Wan Kenobi never has to go monastic; because up-siders aren't burdened with idiotic celibacy. Villainess Massage Breathless (parody of Asajj Ventress) joins the side of good and marries "Mopey-One Kanoli." She persuades him to change his name to Only-One Kanoli.

To hurry things along, the Fuss ghost of Quite-A-Guy Jim tells the Kanolis who and where Bray Galpowerteen is. But by the time they can travel to Powurkord, Bray has left for parts unknown, and Quite-A-Guy can't be expected to answer everything for them. So they decide to begin by asking around on planets where they have acquaintances. First off, the homeworld of the bizarre hand-walking Fetlockers. Their old friend Drilpret remembers them; has no information about Bray, but volunteers to accompany them as their ship's engineer. Forward the story.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

As if conscious of True Earth making so darned many movies with desert planets, the inhabited planet Nosandystuff was called Nosandystuff. It had countless lakes and forests, and had been jointly settled by Humans and Tryyurlucks. (As was shown on Freesoil, and in the sub-reality based on "Babylon Five," those two races could interbreed successfully.)

A Tryyurluck man was walking on a well-maintained path, clasping the hand of a clearly half-Human girl. Beside him, a fully-Human woman was carrying a diapered baby boy of the same parentage. Standing in front of them, Bray suddenly said, "You owe me thanks."

"For what?" asked the father.

With a straight face, Bray replied: "For inventing faster-than-light starships, without which you and your husband could never have met and fallen in love. You may thank me in any language you prefer."

The mother took one step to the rear, her face wary. "Unless you are over a thousand years old, I don't see how you could have invented lightspeed propulsion. Who are you anyway?"

"I am Bray Galpowerteen, of course! The way I could invent faster-than-light ships was by traveling back in time to the era of sublight ships, so they would be there in the future for me to use one to go back in time, so I could be the inventor."

"That makes no sense," the father harrumphed.

"I decide what makes sense, because I am the infallible Bray Galpowerteen, who is the bestest better-than-best EVER!!"



Resolutely willing herself to believe that she had brilliantly convinced the Nosandystuffers, Bray let the Hopecrushers move her along to another planet, while assuring herself that it was her own innate wonderfulness empowering her to transit space almost as instantaneously as using a wormhole. Her next landing was on a marginally-livable world called Poxkrut.

An essentially-human woman, wearing the sort of clothing which might be worn by a supervisor at an industrial site, was first to see Bray.

"Young woman, be so good as to identify yourself."

Someone on duty at Hopecrusher Central fed a packet of information into Bray's mind, as if The Fuss had made the snotty girl aware. So she said, "First, I shall identify you. Your name is Wiltrava, and it was I who both freed you from slavery, and made conditions on Poxkrut far more liveable."

Wiltrava drew her head back. "My brother Habgun and I were present all the way through the environmental remediation. Up-Side Master Plow Korn, whose respiratory system can survive practically anything, tackled the worst of dealing with all the lithium and cobalt. He was assisted by an up-side couple, Only-One and Massage Kanoli. No other Fuss users played any part in it, and the Kantpoolian experts who cleaned things up were guided by Master Korn's recommendations."

Bray's face turned red. "You don't understand anything! I created those people, because I say I did."

Wiltrava raised one eyebrow. "You are not the Creator."

Bray cried, "REEEEEEEE!" --until her head exploded. In a whirl of smoke, Hopecrusher Doctor Dizwarn appeared, reconstituted Bray's head, paused to reattach her ears in the right direction, and carried her to the next place where his superiors wanted her to ruin things.
 
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PLANET STRETCH:
"Governor Jogtip?" said a Mintcandybarri woman in priest-like attire. "I am Payvenmo, telepath of the Subtle Parlor. I am requested and authorized to assist in a psionic decontamination of Doctor Fallacy's closed living quarters. These Anflaktikshok warriors, plus your Warrant Officer Sinchoodi-939, and also your musician friend, have been added to my team as you requested."

Sinchoodi-939 was escorting Carolyn Fallacy, the inventive genius who had enhanced the Crackshots and invented their Muledeer armor-- but who had severely compromised herself by being intimate with the narcissistic Tyrone Glass Nielsen. The recent experience of Master Champ Johnny-747, believing himself to be fighting illusionary Zidmorig raiders (fortunately, he had not actually fired any gunshots), had convinced the Yettisquatch Doyo Jogtip that some of Mister Tectonic's versatile T-Sneers had not yet been eliminated. Tectonic himself was now a powerless captive in Castle Greyhair on Planet Alwaysurnia, with his nose rubbed in the conversion to goodness of both versions of Ickylinn; but a residue of his evil had still to be mopped up here in the sub-reality based on Halo games.

The blues singer New Stevie Ray Vaughan was known by Doyo Jogtip to possess bardic power-- which, albeit still not yet fully quantified, was quite real. Doyo swore by this; Payvenmo had verified it, and wanted Stevie nearby as an extra anti-evil resource.

Doctor Fallacy had argued against the whole proceeding with an uncharacteristic petulance: "Those early-generation micro-drones must have exhausted their stored power by now! This is pointless!" But the Mintcandybarri woman saw through this evasion, and the apartment was unsealed. A moment later, all uncertainty was dispelled; the T-Sneers were still operational, and once more they made people feel as if they were inside an A/I-narrated story-video on YouTube.

Carolyn Fantasy had three persons close to her: nothing more, nothing less. Breaking camouflage, eighteen J-Spheres bounced toward her: nothing more, nothing less. Immediately, Carolyn spoke just five words to her companions: "The Q-Spheres have come to assure me that my darling Tyrone loves me still, this is all part of the Congregation's plan, and soon he'll return to sweep me away!"

Payvenmo stood motionless while striding toward Paramedic Fallacy. Her heels clicked while she lay down on the ceiling. "Carolyn: Are you certain that you want to marry Jack Playfair?"

"Of course I want to marry Jack, because I hate him so much. Ever since he was killed, he's been so much more attentive to me. Stevie, would you mind playing me a sentimental song on your trombone?" These were the last words she spoke to anyone who was physically present, before she went into a quivering ecstasy of imagined happiness. Payvenmo detected the danger of heart failure in the demented woman, but was unable to take action.....

New Stevie, not at all disoriented, played his guitar, and sang with a blues artist's instinctive spontaneity.

"Mister Tectonic thought he was better than Christ;
I say, Mister Tectonic thought he was better than Christ;
Became his own victim in a weird metaphysical heist.

"He was born Tyrone, he dragged his first name in the mud; [/COLOR]
He despised his parents, dragged their name in the mud.
But he still got a chance to be saved by the Savior's blood."

The righteous bard kept singing in the same vein, saying more in rhymed stanzas about salvation by grace through faith. With profound relief, the Mintcandybarri telepath of the Subtle Parlor detected Carolyn's vital signs normalizing.

Eventually, freed from hallucinations, Carolyn Fallacy shuffled toward Stevie, kissed the neck of his guitar, then sat at his feet. When he finished singing, Stevie sat down facing her. After one quiet minute, he asked her: "Doctor Fallacy, do you still want to devote your life to a man who doesn't value anyone else's life? That is, if he should ever be let out of his faraway prison."

The designer of the Master Champ lowered her eyes. "Not anymore, I don't. You know Taggart Jekkyl. It was my fault that we broke up. I pretended that showing him any respect would be the same as my submitting to patriarchal enslavement. Our daughter was right to prefer him over me. Honesty and I have been strangers to each other since before I began internship."

"You're still breathing," said New Stevie; "so it isn't too late for you to change course."


COPPERFOX ADDRESSES THE READERS: GIRL-POWER TYPES MAY BE IRRITATED BY THE FREQUENCY WITH WHICH I PORTRAY SINFUL FEMALE CHARACTERS BEING HELPED ONTO THE RIGHT PATH BY RIGHTEOUS MALE CHARACTERS. IF ANYONE FEELS THIS WAY, I REPLY WITH A POINT SO OBVIOUS THAT IT GETS OVERLOOKED BECAUSE IT'S OBVIOUS.

MALE WRONGDOERS IN MY SAGA GET KILLED FAR MORE OFTEN THAN FEMALE WRONGDOERS DO. IF I HAD TO CHOOSE BETWEEN REPENTING OF SIN AND BEING VIOLENTLY SLAIN, I WOULD PREFER TO CONFESS AND BE WELCOMED TO THE UP-SIDE.
 
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The preceding post was enough to check off a significant plotline box. Let me think of something else which can be made current with equal brevity.

On Orphan Earth in the Third Galaxy, we find Lowerkey chilling out with his sister Queen Frypanna. Also present was a regular-human lady in waiting, named Vilazzi, Not enjoying the longevity of Norse-mythology-derived characters, Vilazzi was the sixth generation of high-ranking servants in a matriarchal descent, who had all been favored confidantes to royals.

"Vilazzi, please tell my brother about your grandmother's little cruise."

"As it pleases Your Majesty. Great Prince, long before this world needed your divine sister to take the helm of state, my mother's mother took a dare from an aunt of hers. This aunt had never married, because she regarded all men uniformly as bullying clods. My grandmother loved riding in wind- moved boats; the aunt pounced on this as an opportunity to vilify the male sex. She claimed that men would chide my grandmother for doing her own boat building. But Grandmother took up the challenge, built a sailboat with her own hands, tried it out on a quiet lake, and then waited to see if any scolding ensued. NOT EVEN ONE male of any age, from any province, expressed even the mildest disapproval. Remember that she was not of high birth, so the lack of opposition could not be explained as deference to the high-born.

"Grandmother's aunt closed her nagging mouth after this."

Lowerkey smiled heartily. "The Hallpasscardean people who adopted me, and the Mediumgarder humans who interact with them, know all about aristocratic birth; but they historically refuse to despise biologically disadvantaged sapients. Did you hear about a Hallpasscardean warrior named Vastbulk, who sacrificed his life saving his comrades from a huge monster on Redundantworld?"

"I confess that I didn't." Frypanna, however, had heard about Vastbulk's last noble deed.

Lowerkey went on: "The Hallpasscardeans not only don't oppress women; they have accepted men of their kind marrying 'lesser' women. There's a plain-human female soldier named Lydia Jawad, native to an Earth-variant called 'Federal Earth', where she served in the Movable Infantry beside a famous human hero called Juan Ricosuave. Women routinely serve in their armed forces. Hoodunnit the Pensive, close companion to Vastbulk, fell in love with Lydia, despite knowing that he would outlive her. Hallpasscardean science has extended her life span as much as possible, and everyone there has fully embraced her as one of their own."

Vilazzi was gratified to know that human females, as a norm, WERE NOT cringing, downtrodden Handmaids. Frypanna steered the conversation toward the possibility that Orphan Earth's humans, in appreciation for being protected by Jumpstard, might muster volunteers to join the many-fronted campaign against the diverse evils on Redundantworld. Frypanna interjected what she felt was the best proposal.

"There is an Earth-variant relatively close to Redundantworld, one whose parent star lost much of its energy several generations ago. There are evil forces there-- but forces whose power level DOES NOT render it futile for 'ordinary' humans to oppose them in war. Orphan Earthlings could join in that conflict without being slaughtered uselessly. Lowerkey, dear, please tell Vilazzi about Stradivarian and the Hagensaber."
 
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NOTING WHO LINGERED ON PUNKSTEEMA'S NORTHERN CONTINENT:

Balzik, retainer to the Silnarpian emigres Omar and Cleopatra MacFrancis, leaned against the gondola of the currently- deflated small airship Second Sunrise, conversing with Bronze Raven, the young man from Tagdoss. "My gun crew has been so diligent with practice, I've had to spend nine silver pieces to get more bullets made. These with ordinary gunpowder, of course; have to save the cannonpowder for actual combat, and meanwhile just remind the men that their gun's range will improve in battle. How much longer is it going to be till Jonawiku sends one of the Tengu to summon us over?"

"Surely can't be long now. He and Ronald have had enough time to mediate arrangements with tribesmen, Whistlers, Elves and the lot. I especially would like to meet this man Cornell Brendan. He sounds exactly like the kind of leader that men would follow against ten-to-one odds."

Bronze Raven's father Fist-of-Ice put in: "I expect that Jonawiku and Sir Ronald already have done their part of arranging a united front. But arrangements have to make arrangements with other arrangements. Our own city-state is small enough that plans come together quickly. But what Jonawiku has gotten involved with affects close to one-tenth of all people in Wellvernia. I wish Field-Master Nefekor could come down and add his men to the campaign; but some high-status heroes have to continue standing guard over Arcondoyla."

Balzik snorted. "The more so, since we've heard that the Bloody Diggers have not at all given up raiding the surface."

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NOW look south again!

At Pitcherton Palace in Austreejuntzland, Koshib of Shangri-Blah, an adept of their monastic martial system, was demonstrating moves of his fellowship's defensive system, which was to the Datsunsha martial styles as aikido is to shotokan karate. His ruler Habohai had telepathically advised the Queen that Koshib was charged specifically to protect the Count of Welskark, of whom the Tibetan-like Uzakmid approved.

The object of the Shangri ruler's endorsement, Count Peltrovik, the Hultisnar nobleman who aspired to wed Juliet-Andrea the First. Sidzenso was also following the action; Peltrovik had become accustomed to the young Tengu's presence. Koshib advanced the heel of his left hand toward the Count's right shoulder, not touching it, and Peltrovik felt as if a strong wind were pushing against only that shoulder.

"Is this martial art superior to the kickboxing of the Datsunsha fighters?"

"That, Your Grace, is comparing mangoes with figs. In a given situation, our style might succeed better than theirs, or the opposite might happen. Those who desire harm to Austreejuntzland and to Hultisna should not be allowed the luxury of knowing what fighting methods their opposition will use."

Peltrovik smiled boyishly. "My swordsmanship training is more like straight-line boxing than like your variable techniques. It would be good if an antagonist found me unpredictable. Is it possible to teach me the Shangri combat method?"

Koshib smiled back. "I was waiting for you to ask! Even a small portion of it may suffice to make you unpredictable."

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I never got around to naming General Cornell Brendan's reliable color sergeant, so I'll name him in this post. Despite knowing that Daisy-Anne Marshwood by now had publicly repudiated their betrothal, he still cared what happened to her, and to the rest of her family. Knowing that Sir Sean Fiddleton had armed retainers who had been told how to defeat Whitewashers, Brendan assigned Color Sergeant Thidwick Hesper to command a protective detail for the dwellers in Hardbiscuit Cottage, also keeping an eye on Heathwell Fairwind's parsonage.

Under Color Sergeant Hesper's direct command were six dragoons, plus four volunteers from the Jardekka tribe. In the view of the Jardekka, anyone whom the highly- esteemed General valued was worthy of protection-- even a fickle, selfish twit. Hesper's team coordinated plans with the noble Antarctic Elf known as Finvoldin True-Thrust, who could stay awake for a tenday before needing to sleep.

Many miles to the south, serenely confident of his color sergeant's reliability, the Queen's General of Dragoons had his attention upon the safety of his friends in Gloomenghast Land. Bivouacked less than half a mile west of the edge of the marshland, he waited for Prince Typhus Gloom and whoever else was coming, to come. The soldiers and prairie warriors with Brendan had already thwarted one assault by the ice-ghouls, inflicting more losses than they suffered. Those gathered around him today included Sergeant Sharpe, Climbs-to-Moon, and Best Rope Maker.
 
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Looking eastward, the keen-eyed Ensign Strandwick pointed. "Four men coming, three are Gloomenghasters. One is Prince Typhus, another probably his man-at-arms Tandauzer. I'm not sure about the third. Fourth man is clad like a Ruffnekkian Whistler."

The Whistler was Malafesh, who has been seen in earlier chapters. The least familiar Gloomenghaster was Remick Whitegrove, the one full-time schoolteacher in the sprawling castle. His gentle-natured daughter Jerusha was willingly betrothed to Typhus Gloom, who, without being weak-willed, always considered her feelings. Typhus shook hands with each visitor he recognized.

The young Washadoli brave (remember, first syllable of this tribe-name rhymes with "crash") Climbs-To-Moon, as has been stated earlier, was courteously infatuated with Typhus Gloom's elder sister. Nobody needed to tell him that Princess Frootsalda was out of his reach; but he still wished safety and long life to her. Therefore, ignoring protocol, he urgently asked the same question the General would have asked if he hadn't:

"Have any Whitewashers invaded your domain since the last news any of us heard?"

"Not through our storm drains, nor any other way as far as we can tell," Typhus assured the visitors. "They're more interested in the countries north of us." Then he looked at Professor Whitegrove, who handed two leather-bound, hand-written journals to the nearby Rutger Sharpe. "My teacher has written eight local chronicles." The teacher added: "Malafesh told me what sort of clues you may want. Some of my entries here might be helpful."

"Even if all the Whitewashers are past the horizon," Typhus assured General Brendan, "we still know to remain prepared against any move by Frantic Druids or other enemies hereabouts."

"Good, Your Highness. Before we turn back north, I hope to find out where Elijah Parsifal and Brewster of Goliad have gotten to."

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Not long after the above scene, Punksteema's air-cruising moon made its latest pass above the longitude of the Six Nations River. This would be the last eclipse over that region before the one which would mark Jizbrol Tazaff's planned landing on the moon, aided by the magic stone from Shangri-Blah. But the current pass was dramatic enough in its own right. The noisy winds always roused by this phenomenon typically made it difficult to hear other sounds-- like the sounds made by wicked creatures making ready for what they would do afterwards.

Whitewashers, supported by Bloody Diggers, emerged first in Beldamore Shire: near the Fiddleton estate, on the side toward Hardbiscuit Cottage and Heathwell Fairwind's parsonage. Sir Sean's very smart wolfhound sensed peril before the first
Bloody Digger even broke the surface. Running toward the nearest of the manor house's night lookouts, Readyrough barked only loud enough to make his meaning plain. The defenders got ready as quietly as they could. Sir Sean put a bullet through the brain of the first earth-goblin to emerge, while some of the watchmen looked for other breakout holes. The second hole discovered was bad luck for the finder: one of the ice demons froze him solid and shattered him as it clambered out.

But kerosene was known to these humans; and Sir Sean's people had produced three of what another world would call Molotov cocktails. The first Whitewasher to have claimed a victim, was itself claimed by fire. The second target for incineration was only partly consumed, and crawled back underground, where it would attempt to regenerate. The third Whitewasher to be threatened with cremation grabbed two Diggers, and swung them around to be cooked instead. A fourth and a fifth cold-bringer advanced cautiously, preferring a hundred bullet impacts or bayonet stabs over one contact with fire.

Readyrough had not ceased proving his cunning. His mighty jaws grasped a slain Bloody Digger, and he shoved the carcass in the direction of Whitewasher number six. Gaining momentum despite the difficulty of advancing in this fashion, he rammed into the newest frosty creature. The already-stinking corpse insulated the hound against freezing, so he could hamper the Whitewasher's efforts to get up. Lady Fiddleton, meanwhile, had scrounged more kerosene to make one more fire bomb. When Readyrough smelled the scent of his mistress, and smelled kerosene, he put two and two together, then hustled the nearest human away from the spot where another Whitewasher was next for the flames.

In the end, six men of the estate departed for The Good Place. I remind readers that Whitewashers were not a make-victims-undead breed of monster; the necromancer Nazuvuzid made them, never in hundreds at once.

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The reception faced by the monsters at Hardbiscuit Cottage was not quite uniformly glorious. Finvoldin Straight-Thrust and Color Sergeant Thidwick Hesper positioned Parson Heathwell Fairwind where he could best exert his spiritual authority to make the Whitewashers hesitate. The Bloody Diggers being plain organic sub-humans, plain mundane weapons did the job against them. The two experienced warriors went wherever the Whitewasher threat was most pressing, taking the worst peril upon themselves. Also persistent in bravery was Elsa Marshwood-Fairwind, resolutely wielding a torch to help hold back any snow-ghouls who attempted to outflank the defenders.

John Weatherby, the man who had encouraged Daisy-Anne to repudiate her majorly-noble-hearted fiance Cornell Brendan, verified his own true nature in the crisis.... by trampling on Marjorie, the youngest of the Marshwood girls, as he bolted to save himself by unbolting the back door and rushing outside.

Straight into the clutches of two Diggers-- who, unlike the Whitewashers, needed protein to survive. As Weatherby was getting dismembered, Mrs. Marshwood re-bolted the door.

In front, the Elf and the Color Sergeant had guided the volunteers in chopping off the legs of every Whitewasher that still was capable of attacking them. Once immobilized, the fiends could be cremated later. Once more than two-thirds of the Bloody Diggers had been slain or critically injured, the rest fled back to their egress tunnel. The smartest of the rustics in the defense obtained oil to pour down the hole and ignite, preventing any soon return by the vile things.

Thanks to Thidwick Hesper and Finvoldin Straight-Thrust, deaths among the rank-and-file defenders were few. Antarctic Elf and Color Sergeant stood bleeding, satisfied that they were not dying uselessly. Triumphant shouts from human throats rang around them, confirming their satisfaction, as they fell down dead. An instant later, they were in Aslan's Country, mingling with brave countryfolk who had crossed over with them.

Not surprisingly, there was no sign of John Weatherby or Darden Quicktrout Up There.
 
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Bloody Diggers being far more numerous than the magical spawn of Nazuvuzid, a score of unaccompanied Diggers tunneled their way to a suburb northwest of Pitcherton Palace, and erupted in the midst of unwitting civilians. Austreejuntzland had gone long enough without huge emergencies, that these capital residents were like panicked sheep. More than a dozen people had been slain, and twice as many were wounded in their left shoulders, before constables could even begin trying to combat monsters who had never been seen in Pitcherton City in living memory.

The distant necromancer had psychically confirmed that Habohai, the Uzakmid of Shangri-Blah, was not in mental contact with the Queen at this time. She therefore couldn't have warned her armsmen to be ready.

However it was that the aggressors maintained contact underground, the main force of earth-goblins convoying the Whitewashers knew when it was time to move. Telegraph service didn't exist yet along the Six Nations River; accordingly, before anyone with a horse in the northwest neighborhood could get through the chaos with a coherent report, the main enemy force emerged from the earth and rushed at the half-open palace gates. The relatively urbanized palace guards were more accustomed to hearing about commerce with Tohaz, Tidumo and Hultisna, than in hearing alarms from the south. Certainly they weren't as up-to-date regarding monsters and sorcery as Towermen, Whistlers, Mellow Druids, or the regional counterparts of Native Americans were.

"Hostile infantry!" the duty officer cried hoarsely. "Fire at will!" Caught with his pants figuratively down, the ensign (yes, the same rank as General Brendan's Ensign Strandwick) was coherent enough to recognize an enemy onslaught, but not enough to be sure on eight seconds' notice whether he should try to figure out how much priority he should place on avoiding civilian fatalities. In the event, three of his men made the snap decision to hope that their shots would strike only foes.

Two of the musket balls killed the two foremost Bloody Diggers. The foremost Whitewasher was completely unaffected by the ball that struck its chest. As monsters overran the soldiers, the ensign died knowing he had done his best.

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Half a minute before the on-post ensign ordered fire: "Peltrovik! Arm yourself! Enemies!" Not only the Count, but Queen Juliet-Andrea and her ladyservants, were baffled at Koshib's outburst; Peltrovik, however, had acquired enough trust in the Shangri monk that he grabbed the nearest rack-mounted weapon, a sturdy poleaxe. He knew it for a good choice; it had a decent chance of keeping Whitewashers back where they couldn't freeze-touch him. He also understood Koshib declining to take any weapon.

Everyone in the inner courtyard, military or otherwise, was little short of blind panic; but the Count of Welskark had enough manly-man prestige to suppress hysteria. Koshib used his demi-telekinesis to nudge noncombatants left and right. Unprepared guardsmen were being mangled and frostbitten; the Shangri hero did his utmost to stagger the monsters back. A few still-intact men contrived to drag casualties aside. The moment he saw his opening, Peltrovik roared "For the Queen!" and split one ice-monster's head down to eye level.

The Antarctic monster didn't die, but stood as if baffled. Another Whitewasher manhandled it over to one side. Koshib exerted a mind-over-matter shove against those Bloody Diggers who were trying to crowd inward. Soldiers recovering their wits formed around their spontaneous leaders, raining blows upon the monsters, and not all the blows were futile. Any men who could reload a musket, now grasped that it was better used on the tunneling goblins. Though pale with exertion, the warrior-monk deftly made monsters lose balance and stumble into each other. The Queen's troops were getting the knack of disabling Whitewashers' mobility, versus just-plain-killing Bloody Diggers.

The gallant monk was keeping focused on warding off the greater menace, until one rank-and-file earth-goblin got behind him.... and stabbed him fatally. Koshib's intrepid spirit was already flying upward as his physical body hit the flagstones. The Count's great axe promptly avenged his friend, and soon every monster that couldn't flee into their tunnel was dead. No prisoners.
 
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The Queen and her household staff, royal physician included, rushed outside to bind wounds. They were still triaging when Zutozar, the Tengu matriarch, descended and began exerting all the life-sustaining magic she could muster. At least two human casualties survived, who would have passed away without her.

"Your Majesty," said the hawk-headed magical sapient, "I came as soon as I knew; I wish it had been sooner."

"We prize the aid you were able to render, Lady Tengu. You and your kindred are always welcome in Pitcherton."

After scouts on horseback, and Zutozar herself on the wing, had concluded that no other attack was impending, Andrea- Juliet addressed all those of her subjects who could assemble on the scene. After making sure that everyone understood the day's emergency, and after scheduling new cautionary patrols, the monarch allowed herself a more positive moment.

"in addition to the estimable Tengu from Arcondoyla, two men who are not native to my realm distinguished themselves honorably: the Heaven-led warrior from Shangri-Blah, and my own betrothed cavalier. The valiant warrior-monk has gone to his everlasting reward; but His Lordship of Welskark is within reach of my own gratitude. I am now resolved that our nuptials must be conducted at the soonest possible instant; and there is more. Illustrious Count Peltrovik, you sincerely embraced the connubial precondition that you could never be our king, nor command any aspect of the succession. Now, however, by no requesting of yours, I am prepared to decree that, in the event of your outliving me, you shall be king, while the succession rights of our issue remain unaltered."

The bandaged Peltrovik knelt and kissed the hand of his bride-to-be, then rose to face the witnesses again. "Her Majesty, Juliet-Andrea the First, does me a huge honor by tendering this offer. But Austreejuntzland neither needs, nor could find, a more capable head of state than it already enjoys. I shall be more than satisfied to be her adviser, to bear arms again in her defense as will surely be needful in these perilous times, to ensure peace and good order meanwhile in my native Hultisnar fiefdom, and to ensure unbroken amity between the two countries. I do make one heartfelt request of Your Majesty: if God grants us a son, let him be known as Prince Koshib."

"Done, my love!"

The Queen had not forgotten the rattle-gun which had been entrusted to her craftsmen by Ronald of Goliad and Jonawiku son of Mofiruzo. The royal gunsmiths had needed to disassemble the specimen if they were to learn how to replicate it; it was merely bad luck that this weapon had not been available just when it would have been especially helpful.

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Zutozar did Peltrovik the favor of soaring west, to the capital of Hultisna, delivering the news of the attack on Pitcherton. From there, she went to Peltrovik's manor in Welskark, to find the Count's younger brother.

"Lord Rimaraf, your brother has just aided in thwarting an assault by inhuman creatures upon the Austreejuntz capital. He was wounded, but will recover. Your nation is now assuming a posture of defense, and you are entrusted by your government with organizing Welskark's folk to meet a possible invasion."

Rimaraf took the report solemnly. Since he and Peltrovik had always loved and valued each other, Peltrovik being safe was heartening to him, NOT an occasion to resent not becoming the next Count of Welskark himself. "Lady Heaven-Bird, will your people see fit to assist us humans against this menace?"

"We shall, though our efforts will need to be divided along multiple fronts. In the worst case, we shall at least make reports."

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Brewster of Goliad and Minister Elijah Parsifal had shown up at Gloomenghast, giving General Brendan assorted news which is not necessary to be told in this post. Able now at last to ride north and find out what had become of the Marshwood family, Brendan left Ensign Strandwick and Best Rope Maker in charge of those dragoons and plainsmen who stayed on guard in this realm.

"Always bear in mind, Ensign, that this Washadoli war chief has decades of battle experience. Listen to his advice, and likewise heed the insights of Whistler Malafesh. But you are well educated. Your true assignment here is to analyze Remick Whitegrove's chronicles."

Prince Typhus joined the northward march; the dragoons chose a well-trained gelding for him to ride, and Climbs-To-Moon rode beside him on the trail, in case he needed assistance.

On the boundary of the southernmost Austreejuntz shire, a goat rancher, armed with pistols, told them about the attacks by monsters. "The Queen's new consort is assigning patrols to look for new monster holes. That good-magic chap down in the cold mountains, the one who can visit other people's dreams, he told Her Majesty as how the whipping they got at the palace has lowered their tails good and proper. But the cussed things'll probably find their nerve again eventually. Queen has her smart men working to build a new kind of gun, to be ready."

Rewarding his informant with a silver piece, General Brendan detailed the well-regarded Rutger Sharpe to lead those who would continue toward Pitcherton. As persons of importance in their communities, Typhus Gloom, Best Rope Maker and Brewster of Goliad were to meet and confer with Queen Juliet-Andrea's household. Elijah Parsifal and Climbs-To-Moon accompanied the General on the detour-- not to the Brendan estate in Tasmuth Shire, because the goatherd had reported that place to be unmolested, but straight for Hardbiscuit Cottage in Beldamore Shire.

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The Widow Marshwood, with her youngest daughter and the stout-hearted Readyrough, awaited the travelers. They had made no attempt to be furtive; and, with the earth-goblins having suffered a defeat here, no return assault was anticipated.

"Marjorie, darling, please take Readyrough out for a walk. I shall be obliged to have an adult conversation."

"Of course, Mama, you need to face the General, and explain why Daisy-Anne decided she preferred a lying, selfish coward over him. Please remember to mention that, when I am of age to be courted, I shall prefer dying as an old maid over having anything to do with the likes of Weatherby, who I am certain resides now in The Bad Place."

When given leave to enter the cottage, Brendan left his companions outside.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, General. I cannot imagine you being so stone-hearted as to hate my Daisy-Anne."

"I assure you, good matron, I do not hate her. If she is in a back room, dreading to see me, kindly inform her that I feel no spite or grudge. I feel no reluctance to shoot or slice a foe in battle, but I would not be much of a gentleman if I chided a woman who already felt abashed over her choices."

"She isn't here, General. She's with Elsa at Heathwell's parsonage. For she has an additional cause for embarrassment. While you were away south, she shamelessly defamed your very career. She said that your being a soldier made you blameworthy for what she kept calling 'the madness of war.' Until Weatherby revealed his willingness to let others perish if only he could save his own skin, Daisy didn't see how far she had fallen from wisdom."

Elijah interjected: "No one can break free of injurious folly if they refuse to admit that it is folly. So Miss Daisy-Anne Marshwood has taken at least one step toward honesty. Yet, realistically, she might backslide."

"Quite so," said the General. "Give her time to progress further. Brewster, Climbs-To-Moon, shall we be off?"

"But, General, you haven't said if you regard your betrothal as beyond saving."

"Indeed I haven't, good madam. Daisy needs to grasp the fact that she needs a clear conscience for its own sake, not as a means to restore her worldly prospects. But in case I die sooner than I plan to, tell Daisy that I do forgive her."
 
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HIGH ALTITUDE:

"Jaheg-Jorod has plagued our world long enough," growled Ronald of Goliad, who could not possibly be left out of a mission to rid Punksteema of necromancers. "Zoralee needs a cleaner world in which to raise our children." The two gunners responsible for the mortar carried by King's Honor for surface combat, nodded in agreement. Donnie Tonka and Ysidro Lopez, men of similar martial talents and similar purpose, were there, the former with his wife Nishri. Silas Larkburg of Kung-Sar Free Church in Tablanor, Mistress Mukuma the Bible translator, and Froliptar Greenbranch the spiritual heir of his father Armolas, were talking tactics with Jizbrol Tazaff, the inventor of this dirigible. The girl sharpshooters Heejee faf-Tuvan and Yadiva Joloris (now Smoke Maidens) were chatting with airship crewmen about the complications of shooting from the gondola during maneuvers.

And Peplijad the Gnome, who in the realm of Shangri-Blah had uncovered the fateful stone which would bypass physics to let them land safely on the anomalous moon, asked Mister Jizbrol (the Quelidard people having surnames first):

"When we make turnover below the moon, when up trades places with down, when our own world becomes a many- colored sky above our heads..... have you decided yet who should be first over the rail with a mooring line?"

"Billyboy-- in his doomrat shape, so he has four clutching paws to grab for support, while he grips the hawser in his teeth. He can also run the fastest, hence better odds to keep hold of the line if crewmen have difficulty slowing our momentum."

Silas and Mukuma, meanwhile, kept up earnest prayers against the wickedness infesting this miniature world. And since Mellow Druids followed the true God, Froliptar uttered prayers against the Frantic Druids. --

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One service the Tengu could contribute, with less likelihood of black-sponge magic thwarting them, was transporting things and people. Of the six nations along the accordingly-named rivercourse (plus Hultisna, which was close enough), Tohaz was nearest to the equator, thus most subject to disruption from the moon-pass winds. If evildoers on the Punksteeman surface wanted to exploit the periodic high winds to conduct raids, Tohaz (oh, all right, Hultisna too) was the most vulnerable. And since now it was known that at least one Frantic Druid could breathe water, it was conceivable that enemies would invade from the sea.

Whatever azimuth a hostile force chose to come from, the rough-weather factor would be the same. This meant that it would be advantageous for defenders to have something whose use would not be disrupted by the wind. Rattle-guns, heavier than hand-carried rifles, and rendered more powerful by cannonpowder in the bullets, would not be thrown off aim by the winds. Balzik, the retainer of Omar and Cleopatra MacFrancis, would aim one of the rapid-fire weapons, while Odilladet Gahuhal aimed the other. Two of Balzik's men would help their primaries to load and to keep the guns in position amid the wind. With good timing, including a fire plan of two or three separated bursts per magazine, one rattle-gun could always maintain fire while the other swapped out spent magazines.

Austreejuntzland was already on a war footing since the attacks by monsters. Nations south of Gloomenghast all had strong warrior forces ready for need; and the Gloomenghasters could use their marshland as a vast pitfall, where invaders not knowing the safe paths would become sitting ducks.

Thus, the heroes aboard King's Honor could focus on their mission, without excessive anxiety for the good-aligned people on the planet below them. The reader may assume that, while the SUPREME action climax plays out on the egg-shaped moon, no irrecoverable harm will strike the side of good on Punksteema.

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"Captain, people on the ground astern reacting, they saw us pass over them!"

"Captain, make it minimum eighty trying to pursue us. Don't see anything looks like those ice-walkers or whatever."

"Mortar team ready to go ashore when ordered!"

Peplijad the Gnome-- who, relative to size, was stronger than any Human-- stood ready to command the magic rock from Shangri-Blah to make the airship turn its belly toward the atmosphere-bearing lunar surface, and to cancel any inertia that would hamper their landing.

Space-launch-type countdowns to zero had never been thought of on Punksteema, so Mister Jizbrol counted forward to his estimate of when the decelerating dirigible would be most nearly motionless resite on the moon. Every shipboard lookout watched keenly for anything which might imperil the touchdown.

"....six, seven, eight, nine, TEN! Go, Billy!"

Jizbrol Tazaff's earlier experiments with stretchable material for hawsers had not been pointless. When the human-souled werebeast went over the rail, the rope whose leading end his mighty jaws gripped had just enough give to it, that Billy didn't have to worry about it jerking him off his paws in the event of any error in timing his jump.

"Mister Jeralo holding steady, Captain!"

"Acknowledged! Follow-up rope-holders, over the side! Engine crew, reduce our buoyancy as planned! Mortar crew, stand by to go ashore at signal! Gunslingers will disembark with mortar crew!"

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Jaheg-Jorod had lived on Punksteema since before the sapient races there had figured out mining and smelting metals. He had not been born a necromancer, but had loved knowledge. His primitive environment had not lent itself to seeing a clear line between science and magic (which could also be said about much of True Earth's history). He had noticed a few communities, including Tengu and Elves, producing bronze. Every skill or secret which might enable success for him was desirable-- yet somehow became bad if someone else possessed it.

When Jaheg was eleven years old, he had a dream, whose result would be a nightmare for everyone else in his world. A faceless being told him-- not really altogether truthfully, cough cough-- that a pleasing afterlife was available only to those who were the most ruthless and callous in pushing others out of the way.

Even before he figured out how to animate corpses as zombies, Jaheg became the first person on Punksteema to devise and use the self- serving phrase: "YOU JUST HATE ME FOR BEING DIFFERENT!!!"

After so many centuries, after the setbacks he suffered when Edgar Pallendin raised up the Order of Towermen to vanquish evil, and in the recent years with Ronald of Goliad reviving the chivalrous order, Jaheg-Jorod had fallen beyond all possibility of redemption. He had been granted hundreds of opportunities to repent, but had only clung even more obstinately to self- justification.

It all came down to this confrontation, on the moon-- with a man who had given and suffered and given. Ronald of Goliad had poured out his time and strength to defend the same lesser beings the necromancer scorned. The gunslinger-knight had waited almost too long to find love, marriage and family, and even now he was risking having all of that cut short, because he cared about other people. As he advanced against his opposite number, Jaheg-Jorod, utterly against his will, inescapably knew himself to be in the wrong; but he hated this knowledge. So he fixed his mind upon a twisted notion of a fair fight.

Since Ronald had a high magic-resistance, Jaheg was facing him fairly..... with guns.

Well, fairly, sort of. Jaheg-Jorod, who had facilitated the rattle-gun's creation in the first place, was carrying an improved model: one with twice as many cartridges in each stick-magazine, and each bullet hollow-nosed to increase damage.
 
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(A minute and a half before Jaheg-Jorod came into Ronald's view)

"Girls, get to that rise, shoot from cover!" shouted Jizbrol Tazaff in the Drovalish tongue, which was extremely unlikely to be known by any of the hostiles. It was the native language of Heejee faf-Tuvan Tonka, wife of Donnie Tonka. Hearing the airship designer use her language when she had never learned his rekindled the shame stored in a corner of her mind: shame for having formerly been bigoted against Tazaff. Drovals had collectively scorned people from Quelidar for generations, yet a Quelidard had invented the means by which good-aligned people now could carry the war to the Frantic Druids and their allies.

Nobody was waiting for the center-stage duel with Jaheg-Jorod to play out. Heejee and Yadiva sprinted where Tazaff indicated, to a small ridge where they could ply their sniper rifles from cover. Having had gravity explained to them long ago by Felipe Catalano (Ysidro Lopez's cousin), they were surprised to find in their dash that their weight wasn't reduced as much as they had expected. It was for the best, since it would not have increased their life expectancy to go soaring twenty feet above the alien soil. Concurrently, Donnie and Ysidro hurried to cover the left flank, firing two-handed on the run like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, except they didn't get killed. Wounded seriously, but not fatally. They had put a big hole in the Frantic Druids' infantry, and a bigger hole in their confidence.

Not every member of the punitive expedition noticed the stout canine beasts which were coming from the direction opposite to the area of attention for the shooters just described; but Jizbrol Tazaff spotted them in time to deploy the mortar crew against them. Crewmembers also brought rifles to bear against the dire wolves; for that was what they were, the same wolf breed which Sir Ronald had battled years ago, in the lonesome Wellvernian prairie called "The Crybabiya."

The ronin archer Jonawiku son of Mofirozu, and Mellow Druid Froliptar Greenbranch the son of Armolas, turned their attention to another hostile element: Whitewashers. Nine of them, just as if Copperfox felt like inserting a quiet "Lord of the Rings" reference. For their mistress Nazuvuzid was here on the moon.

Froliptar had scrounged up one obsidian-headed arrow for Jonawiku. The Samplibami-born Towerman shot it perfectly through the bloodless heart of the Whitewasher in the middle, and it fell backward, never to rise.

it's time to aim the spotlight where it's been awaited since four years ago.

Anyone reader of mine who is familiar with Stephen King's "Dark Tower" series realizes that my Punksteeman epic HAS ALMOST >NOTHING< IN COMMON with Mister King's tale of Roland Deschain. I probably wouldn't have bothered including ANY hint of anything done by Mister King, if I had not SEEN THE "DARK TOWER" MOVIE, which ironically also bore very little semblance of the novels, which I happen to have read. What hooked me was the ACTOR Idris Elba, whose gun-related action scenes were very much in the John Wick spirit.

Enough of the footnotes. Let the showdown be shown.

Ronald was poised for the exact sequence of weapon-use that he had been holding in his mind ever since he inherited the lever-action rifle of the valiant Connor McLucas. When Jaheg-Jorod began firing the new rattle-gun, Ronald fired his first bullet precisely into the first rattle- gun bullet. Jaheg's leading bullet was checked in flight, the second rattle-gun round crashed into the first, and the third into the second. Ronald had been evading while shooting his first, so the remainder of the initial burst missed him.

His dodging was effective enough that he could spare an instant, and a bullet, to kill a very large snake which was trying to creep up on Heejee and Yadiva. Then he had to resume using rifle shots to redirect the rest of Jaheg's rattle-gun magazine. When the necromancer tried to reload, Ronald didn't need to do the same, because he also had his two-shot breechloading derringer. With this, he wrecked the rattle-gun's trigger.

Jaheg-Jorod was prepared. From his back he drew something like a Chinese three-section staff. Whirling it from one end, he charged. With rapier already in hand, the Towerman drew his knife with his left hand, then started using random footwork to keep his adversary uncertain. \\ Clang clang, thrust, evade, riposte, clang, duck, lunge, turn, left-hand slash, avoid a kick by Jaheg, wound that ankle with the knife, endure a glancing head-impact by the end of the sectioned staff, pull back to breathe. Note yellow color of that blood, same color Jaheg's feet used to leave in places from which he teleported away. Sudden realization--

Ronald had never seen the movies of Errol Flynn and Tyrone Power, where men talked and talked while fighting each other. But he suddenly found he had to say one thing: "I see it now, you (naughty language)! The moon gave you the power to teleport at will on Punksteema, but it works differently when--"

Jaheg-Jorod attempted to exploit his foe's monologuing. Changing his grip to hold both outer sections of his melee weapon, so he could make double attacks at close quarters, he went all out with desperate rage. \\ Clang clang, draw-cut across Jaheg's chest spills more yellow ichor, lose hold on rapier, no chance to retrieve it so grab at the staff section held by Jaheg's left hand, barely escape having larynx crushed by the other end-rod; necromancer curses in some ancient language; body-check to keep the chaotic sorcerer from getting in a telling blow; struggle struggle struggle struggle struggle struggle......

Then-- so abruptly that Ronald himself barely noticed-- the point of his left-hand blade came up under Jaheg's chin, through tongue and palate, and up through the depraved brain, stopping only when it struck the inside of the crown of the skull. Just like that, the manipulator of death was himself dead, and finding out, oops, that there was a God, Who could not be deceived, and to Whom Jaheg-Jorod must now answer for his crimes.
 
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The score with Jaheg-Jorod was not the only score due to be settled. Froliptar Greenbranch had an Inigo Montoya score with the Frantic Druids, who had been leaders in the war against civilization, a war which had claimed the life of Armolas, Froliptar's father. But Armolas had passed all his powers to Froliptar, and a double dose of good-aligned magic was facing the enemy.

The front, for Froliptar and Jonawiku right now, consisted in part of the Frantic Druid Paoyasti Fonkifu, the corrupted Elf-woman who had gained special power from the black oceanic sponges collected by colleague Bexpodo Yellowstem. He had handed her the ability to drink up the magic of other spell-casters or supernormal beings. This parasitism was the reason why no Tengu had come to the moon with Mr. Jizbrol's expedition, even less could the Colorless Quetzalcoatl come along. Froliptar was an exception, because his father's legacy was precisely empowered to resist the theft of power. Billyboy Jeralo was also exempt from draining, since his magical quality wasn't anything he would shoot at an antagonist, it only energized him.

Roughly simultaneous with Sir Ronald's career-climax battle, Billyboy in doomrat shape raced this way and that way, in effect plugging gaps in the battle line. Seeing where Jonawiku's arrows were knocking the remaining Whitewashers down like bowling pins, he delivered body-checks on the first three starting to get up. His fur was warm enough to protect him from freezing from the contact. Spotting the one killed Whitewasher, he tugged out the obsidian arrow, then brought it to the ronin-archer like a dog fetching a stick. The Samplibami Towerman didn't require a suggestion. Hefting the arrow like a small spear, with Froliptar assisting by unbalancing the ice-fiends with magical blasts of wind, he slew them to the last monster.

Still on the run, Billyboy next killed a massive snake like the one which had tried to get at the people staying with the airship. He fought all dire wolves he met; this wasn't unfair, because his shape-shifting didn't make him immune to normal violence. He broke one leg of each dire wolf he brought down, in the hope that the Mellow Druids could domesticate them later as dogs. He glimpsed his brother-in-law slaying Jaheg-Jorod {Good riddance!}; crewmembers of King's Honor could bind any wounds Ronald bore. But others had suffered worse.

The mortar operators had been repulsing a wave charge by human disciples of the Frantic Druids, blowing many to bits. Natural enough that the chaotic-evil moon-dwellers would throw forces at the invading aviators. Arrows had slain the mortar crewmen, and the other airship crewmen were choosing their shots to conserve rifle ammunition. Jizbrol Tazaff had clambered down and manned the mortar himself. Two shells had eliminated another handful of disheartened menials, before their last three arrows penetrated the unarmored inventor.

Billyboy scared away the already-discouraged Frantic disciples; realized that Mr. Jizbrol was done for-- but was heard when he assured the Quelidard genius, "We have them beaten, the moon is ours."

Jizbrol Tazaff's parting triumphant smile was genuine. "I told people it could be done."

Assured of the scientist's place in Heaven, Billyboy meant to honor him by tying up loose ends. At several spots, he came upon human underlings, let them see him resuming human shape, his clothes magically reappearing on him as he stood up on two feet, then telling them: "The moon is passing into the hands of those who serve the True Creator. None of you has cause to be frightened, if you offer us no resistance. Tell this to other people on the moon."

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Paoyasti Fonkifu still was trying to batter Froliptar and Jonawiku down with elemental wind-blasts, while Nazuvuzid strove to create ordinary undead creatures from any corpse within sight. This not working immediately, Paoyasti tried next to drain power from Froliptar, who scornfully replied: "You can't empty ME out; my legacy empowers me specifically to deflect the same evil which killed my father. Justice is near you. But I offer you both one opportunity to surrender, accept reasonable chastisement, and find pardon."

"It's the best offer you'll get," muttered the ronin-archer. But the diverse villainesses only drew daggers and lunged--in vain. Froliptar seemed to grow larger, and grow translucent. Nazuvuzid and Paoyasti.....were consumed by a flame which harmed no one else.

"Jonawiku, son of Mofirozu," said the transfigured Froliptar, "my father Armolas passed his power down to me in anticipation of this very day. And I now pass it to you. Henceforth, you shall be a new thing: at once a Towerman, and a Mellow Druid."

Jonawiku knelt. "I am stupefied by this honor. I shall try to be worthy of it, but please tell me it doesn't mean I have to be celibate. You remember about Azellajo, don't you?"

Froliptar smiled. "If Mellow Druids were celibate, I would never have existed. But I now prepare to ascend where my parents await me. Your Azellajo is destined to share your future adventures......as Mistress Zoralee Jeralo-Goliad will share Sir Ronald's well-earned RETIREMENT. Ronald still can train young warriors as he finds time; but you are the future. Your path now includes maintaining command of the moon."

From somewhere, Peplijad the Gnome was beside them, holding the moon-stone from Shangri-Blah. "While this fateful stone remains on the moon, its rotating custodians-- with you and me among them-- will command access from Punksteema. We will have the power to make the way open for persons of righteous heart. And Jizbrol Tazaff, beholding us from Heaven, will relish his vindication." \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Readers are now invited to think of the climactic music in "Chariots of Fire," when Eric Liddell triumphantly crossed the finish line. Rest assured that Jonawiku's wedding to the young cousin of his deceased first wife is as rapturous as anyone could wish.

The world of Punksteema will still have evil and injustice to contend with; but the evils, and the ways that heroes combat these evils, will encompass more of advancing technology and science.
 
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BRIEFLY REVISITING REAL-WORLD CHICAGO, AND AQUINAS ROMERO'S SOUTH-SIDE RESCUE MISSION:

"Did you ever hear of a European band called 'A-ha'?" Willie Ekubo asked his pal Saffron Freeburg.

"Probably baby-boomer stuff?" Saffron guessed.

"Not quite, but older than us for sure." He played the official video of Take On Me, in which a college-age-looking girl enters an alternate dimension, where a dashing motorcycle racer defends her against thugs.

Saffron smiled. "A year ago , I would've said this was a pile of _________; but now I like it."

"So do I. But I don't like what I found out later. Lots of European entertainment creators hate happy endings."

"Like the Hopecrushers in Copperfox's run-on story?"

"Afraid so. A-ha made a sequel, almost no one in America knows this. In the sequel video, the hero is forced to go back to the cartoon world, so he can't stay with her after all."

"Wow, that stinks."
 
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