Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

In Generic Large City on Seedubb, members of the Spark Labs workforce, and spouses of same, operated a sort of youth hostel for the Teen Tryouts. The young superheroes, when they weren't with parents or other adult relatives, could stay here in private rooms with access to online schooling. Goldfinch and Raisin were currently at the hostel; therefore, since the Nickelworths were in town, Alphonse and Harpy treated both adolescents to supper at a prestigious chain restaurant, joined by Virgil Fixxit. The dining chain, Masterful Munchies, was owned by Dwayne Enterprises. Close retainers of the Dwayne family, with a reasonable number of guests, automatically dined for free at any Munchies location.

In view of this policy, whenever Alphonse ate at a Masterful Munchies, he would give the employees collectively a tip equal to double the cost of all his party's food and beverages. (The butler and war veteran was a substantial stockholder in Dwayne Enterprises, which was also true of Batfellow's engineer-inventor.) This tended to reinforce worker loyalty to the restaurant chain, and also gained some goodwill for Brutus Dwayne from organized labor.

On this evening's visit to the Munchies nearest to the youth hostel, the former Harpy Grinn attracted all the attention: partly for her looks of course, but mainly due to public knowledge that she had been pardoned by the Governor of York-Jersey and had landed a very respectable husband. This restaurant visit became the first time Harpy had ever found strangers asking for her autograph. She gave the autographs happily, only with the stipulation that she would sign only as Harpy Nickelworth. In the course of this bustle, one fanboy jostled a waiter who was carrying five plates; but Raisin, reacting swiftly, telekinetically stopped the plates and the food from hitting the floor, then suspended them in the air until the server could get them sorted out. This earned her an autograph request from the grateful young man.

When things quieted down, and Alphonse's party had placed their orders, Virgil filled the next twenty minutes by telling the others about some technical projects he was overseeing for Dwayne Enterprises: projects not at all connected with the Batfellow team, and part of the reason for doing them at all was to help conceal Virgil's ties with the Bat-Grotto.

When their meals arrived, Harpy again became the center of attention for table talk. Raisin and Goldfinch were present in their Teen Tryout personas, wearing their costumes. They talked as if Harpy's new husband, and Virgil Fixxit likewise, were only Brutus Dwayne's valued men, rather than also being Batfellow's valued men.

Raisin began by addressing Harpy according to professional status.

"Doctor Nickelworth, do you intend to plunge back right away into psychiatrically treating the criminally insane?"

"Only if my darling Alphonse describes the kids we're going to have as criminally insane. And call me Harpy".

"Has anyone at-- I mean, has anyone from, uh, your former place of residence....have any of them approached you about, maybe, coming back as a doctor instead of a patient?"

Harpy laughed, but her laughter had no trace of her former cynical snideness. "Not even an issue, sweetie. I already have an office ready for me at one of the mental-health centers funded by the Dwayne Foundation. And for at least the first three months, I'll take only routine cases." Harpy's purely warm and friendly smile penetrated the younger girl's heart with profound niceness. "Like teenage girls who are heartbroken over not being awesome superheroes like you." Suddenly, Harpy sighed. "Or, a lot worse, messed-up girls who wish they could be like ME-- and they mean the way I used to be, not the way I am now."

Over the course of supper, all five friends did well at NOT saying anything which admitted that Virgil and Alphonse were directly associated with Batfellow, Catfemale, Huntergirl, Evening-Wing and Goldfinch. It was all right that Harpy was known to be working with Batfellow now-- both because Brutus Dwayne and his butler were publicly understood to be at least friendly with Batfellow, and because Catfemale had gone on record that she was not jealous of Harpy. But it was vitally necessary that, at least, Brutus Dwayne BEING Batfellow did not become screamingly obvious to everyone on Earth beyond the last shred of doubt.
 
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Back in the Bat-Grotto on the outskirts of Urbanopolis, Evening-Wing joined Batfellow, Catfemale and Huntergirl for the interrogation of Maskoflage the Lazytaxie Face Twister. Being unfamiliar with Face Twisters, the heroes dared not underestimate the extent to which they could change form, and Zoorama was not currently available to examine Maskoflage magically. So until more assistance was on hand, there would always be two of the four heroes on watch where they could observe their prisoner directly. They saw to it that their prisoner's physical needs were provided, then got down to questioning. There was a brainwave reader connected to the infiltrator's brain; but the heroes knew that, although a Face Twister still was technically human, his brain might be sufficiently alien to make readings unreliable, even if Maskoflage did not try to mislead his captors.

Nonetheless, there could be benefits to obtain just from getting the stranger to talk.

With all four crime-fighters present, Evening-Wing opened the dance by saying: "We already knew, long before now, that there were other inhabited worlds in the universe; we further knew that not all sapient beings were even remotely human. But we know next to nothing about YOUR world and people. So here's what's going to happen. You will begin describing your own civilization and its values to us. At this stage, we don't even have any determined questions; tell us things which you feel might interest us if you HADN'T made us your enemies."

"Eventually, though," interjected Huntergirl, "we will have specific questions for you. And when that stage comes, if you choose not to obey, then we'll be highly interested in learning how long you can survive without food or water. I assure you that you are not so valuable a prisoner as to make preserving your life our very highest priority."

Maskoflage let out a sigh. Batfellow noticed, but did not remark on, the fact that the sigh was unusually long. It suggested an unusually high lung capacity.

"My civilization is many centuries, indeed millennia old. We are in truth human, but the world WE remember as 'Earth' became unlivable before anyone on THIS Earth had even invented written language. From our point of view, it is your Earth which is the strange anomaly. I truly don't know how to account for the time difference; as far as I know, no one belonging to my own civilization ever visited here, until some of us shape-changers were assigned here quite recently."

(In saying this, Maskoflage was making a purely honest mistake, saying something which he had no way of knowing was untrue. His whole sub-universe, including its barren version of Earth, had only really existed since around the time Galileo was born on Original Earth. The Ashtrayides, the Snarkonnens, the Srirachians, the Penny Jezebels, all of that, had been created as part of The Never-Stopping Story. The whole collection of things resembling what Frank Herbert would eventually write in the twentieth century had popped into existence late in the sixteenth century, with people remembering history and ancestry which existed only in the mind of God. This had required the creation of already-adult evildoers who were not merely under Adam's general curse, but actively evil from their first conscious thought. Since God is not a Calvinist, He had made it so that every one of these evil characters, who now had a real existence, would also have the entirely real chance to repent and be saved before they died. Indeed, the noble Duke Neato Ashtrayides the Pure-Hearted and Generally Likeable, upon entering Heaven, had found that some past Snarkonnen aristocrats and Lazytaxie schemers were also up there, and were now his friends.)

"Our space travel depends on a combination of extremely sophisticated fourth-dimensional manipulation technology with extreme psychokinetic function. The artificial part is the motive power; the organic, psionic part is the guidance. Those who steer our starships gain their organic power by eating-- more accurately, breathing in the case of the top-tier spacegoing ones-- the extract of a certain vegetable which we call The Jalapeno. I believe that our Jalapeno is nearly identical to what you would call a jalapeno pepper-- except for the small detail of your jalapenos NOT conferring special powers on anyone."

"Since I hate jalapenos," observed Evening-Wing, "I'm glad that ours don't give anyone special powers. I'd like to BE super-powered, but scorching my mouth would be a high price to pay for becoming metahuman."

"Actually," Maskoflage put in, "our own Jalapeno plants, by themselves, don't confer super-powers either. They have to be eaten and processed by what we call Habanero Monsters. Kind of like bees on your planet changing nectar into honey. People eating the refined form of our desert plant gain improved health and lifespan at the very least, and some acquire much greater advantages. I know that one of the visitors who came to you openly is the daughter of what we call a Penny Jezebel, and has her mother's power of mental influence. That, and the space-navigation ability I already mentioned, are examples of the powers available to us.

"And where your 'superheroes' are improbable exceptions to the norm, WE can have many thousands of persons among us who gain extraordinary powers from The Jalapeno. Keep this in mind before you commit your planet to being at war with my civilization."

"Supposing your words to be true," Catfemale purred, "why are you giving us this information so freely?"

"In part because I'm a coward, and would rather not be starved to death. Also because it's very likely that the Mentalcat Bunkem Isotope-- Mentalcats are a category NOT directly dependent on The Jalapeno-- has already shared the same facts with your people anyway, and I'm not about to antagonize you by refusing, if my refusing wouldn't even accomplish anything for my own former side."

Now Batfellow finally spoke: "Maybe it's time for some positive reinforcement."

Taking this as a cue, Catfemale resumed talking, and removed the electrodes from the Face-Twister's head as she did so.

"Since you're not from around here, shorty, I expect you don't know that I used to be a villain myself. I used to vex my darling Batfellow all the time. Attacking him without provocation or warning, then calling him a bully when he defended himself. Pretending to go straight, even pretending to be in love with him, all in order to put him off guard. I didn't just play with his feelings, I played with the whole city of Urbanopolis. I made a big show of supporting trendy causes, of being socially aware-- but I never went without luxuries for myself, and I never listened to anyone who suggested that I wasn't really all that sincere and brave.

"It took four times of dearest Bats saving my nine lives, for the truth to get through to me: I was only willing to be anything like 'good' if I could be the one to DEFINE what was good, while Bats had a genuine moral compass. The last time he saved my life was by stopping me from falling into a huge industrial acid vat-- and I had just tried to push him into the same vat a minute earlier! It still took some drama for me to change flags for keeps." She turned to face Batfellow. "But you keeping me out of that acid bath was the moment when I knew I did love you for true."

Stepping in to limit the mushy talk between her parents, Huntergirl told Maskoflage, "This led to them tying the knot, then becoming my mother and father. And let me state for the record that Evening-Wing has been a great brother to me." The implication that Evening-Wing was also the blood offspring of Batfellow and Catfemale served as a bit of cautionary misdirection.

The "brother" addressed the Face-Twister in his turn: "In recent times, we've also seen Harpy Grinn, who was nastier than Catfemale ever was, crossing over to the side of good. And since this whole story we're living in is FULL OF crossovers, we invite you to switch teams to the good side yourself."

Like a morphing computer image, the prisoner's face changed likenesses eleven or twelve times in the next eight seconds. Not merely changing expressions; the physical features of Maskoflage's face changed repeatedly in that space of time. When the spy's face settled down-- as a different face than the man Batfellow had captured-- Huntergirl asked him, "Is this the WAY that you specialized Lazytaxies express emotions?"

"If uncertainty is an emotion. But I've decided to take a chance on cooperating further. Beginning with this: my own powers of disguise were developed independently from anything involving The Jalapeno. Our Goulash cloning process is also independent from Jalapeno powers. We Lazytaxies were already extending the reach of the biological sciences before any Jalapeno was ever exported from Srirachiss. And for much of our history, we have worked smoothly with the galactic tribe or clan called House Snarkonnen. The ruling barons of that house have always been proactive about seeking advantages for themselves...."
 
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In the southeast corner of the state of Kansas, in a wheat field with stalks grown to half their eventual height..... four days before the abduction of Princess Reelnyce.... the Opposite Whoosh was lying on his back, resting from the time-jump. His yellow costume, though not exactly concealing him, did make him less obvious to sight amid the wheat.

I was right to anticipate that the Anti-Villain Device, even at a distance, would interfere with my power to some degree as long as it was in good-guy hands. Normally, my Quickness Force should recover from a time jump in a matter of twenty minutes or less; but the way I feel now, it's going to take over two hours. I can only hope that no good guys trace me and arrive at a point in time when I'm still tired.

The very fact of his thinking this way about time travel gave him an idea; if he just had that much respite, it should work. And he lucked out: no heroes found him while he was resting. The only person to come near him during this period was a ten-year-old boy on a bicycle.

"Mister, are you okay? Are you heading for the comicbook convention?" The boy's tone suggested that he was not joking, there actually must be a comicbook convention taking place in whatever town was nearest to this spot.

"That's right. My car had radiator trouble on the road, but I was able to get it to a repair shop. I've been taking a walk meanwhile, enjoying the Kansas countryside. It should be ready soon, but I wanted to rest before walking back."

"Okay. But you need to think about dehydration. Want some water?"-- and the boy offered a cyclist's water bottle.

Opposite Whoosh drank all that remained in the bottle. His evil nature balked at the thought of THANKING anyone for an act of kindness; but in his vulnerable position.... "Thanks, kid. I feel better now. Have a nice day." The boy rode away westward; the villain sat upright, but did not yet leave this place.

After half an hour, he felt strong enough to stand. Waiting another five minutes or so in a standing posture, the villain then walked eastward. Finding a hiding place two miles off, he rested further. Finally, he felt his Quickness Force reviving. Presently, he reversed time to a moment only minutes after his conversation with the bicycle rider, then went back west and found a spot from which he could observe his own self sitting by the road.

And his hunch paid off.

Doctor Unusual materialized in front of Opposite-Whoosh-as-he-had-been -in-a-sequence-of-events- which-DIDN'T-get- interrupted-by-the-sorceror. Unusual's back was toward Opposite-Whoosh-after-the- small-time-jump. "You're under arrest!" barked Doctor Unusual. It was a weakness of magic-users to assume that no non-magician could be smarter than they were; this weakness on their part had often helped Batfellow to survive against evil wizards. Now it would help Opposite Whoosh, if the villain had the sense NOT to throw away his one-chance-only advantage of surprise.

Unfortunately for Doctor Unusual, Opposite Whoosh did have enough sense. Without monologuing or otherwise defeating himself, the metahuman criminal sprinted up from behind and struck a deadly blow against the back of the good magician's neck.

The only reason why Doctor Unusual didn't die was because the author of this story decided that the wide-reach power of the Anti-Villain Device reduced the impact just enough so that the hero "only" got paralyzed from the neck down. Unusual's cloak of levitation automatically carried the now-helpless good sorceror up and away, out of Opposite Whoosh's reach, and went in search of a hospital. Fortunately, there was no need for Doctor Unusual to return forward in time first. Any hospital in Kansas would be far enough away from the events four days in the future to avoid causation paradoxes.

Opposite Whoosh said to his recent self, "Our trick worked. Now, to avoid scrambling up the cause-and-effect, you need to walk east as we intended, wait over there for a while, then come back soon enough to turn into me and hit the sorceror when he tries to arrest us. Don't try to make it a better hit this time; you could just as easily make the damage less. Do it exactly as you saw me do it. It's good enough that he'll be out of action for-- well, he might get special help with healing, but surely he'll be out of action for AT LEAST several days."

As he headed for parts south, Opposite Whoosh experienced the oddity of REMEMBERING hearing himself telling himself what to do. He even remembered making sure to do what he had already done.
 
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In the metahuman-detention area of Spark Laboratories, what amounted to a hospital room had been set up for The Wisecracker. The choice of such a secure location had had nothing to do with any concern that the non-superpowered and badly injured criminal could escape on his own; but other bad guys might very well want to liberate Wisecracker, because his cunning remained useful to them.

On a day after all major surgery had been completed and the patient was awake again, Wisecracker was visited by the man who had brought him down, Captain Patriot. The Captain was accompanied by Cyberdork.... and by the former Harpy Grinn.

The master criminal knew that there was no chance at all EITHER of Harpy desiring to help him get away, or of her being ABLE to get him out of here even if he had been ambulatory. It was merely for the sake of being disruptive and obnoxious that he grinned and said, "Harpy-Doll! I knew you couldn't stay away from your pudding! Now, pull whatever secret weapon you're packing, take out these two nerds, and load me into your escape vehicle!"

Cyberdork looked at Captain Patriot. "I believe he thinks that was clever." The Captain shrugged in reply, then turned back toward The Wisecracker.

"Wisecracker, I have no need to gloat over you. But I feel a certain obligation to men whom I've defeated but not needed to kill. Even though multiple stays in a mental institution did you no good --and Harpy, I'm not blaming you for failing to cure him yourself years ago-- I know this: there's only one God, He doesn't dress like the Norse trickster-demon Loki, and He can convert EVEN a hardened wrongdoer like you."

Harpy's eyes were leaking. "Listen up, former boyfriend: I do feel ashamed of myself for letting you get to me when I was suppose'ta be giving you psychotherapy. But if I can be cured of badness, so can you! Please try to understand: good IS better than evil, because it's nicer!"

Wisecracker's reply was unprintable. Even an animated-movie company scripting a movie solely for adult viewers would never have permitted the nastiest villain to use such language as Wisecracker now used. Harpy stood silently. But Cyberdork did not.

"Wise-Cretin, I know you imagine that you're clever. But I can outdo you even at this." The bionic hero loosed a stream of invective which would burn the mortar out of a brick wall.... if the mortar could have understood the cusswords. All the words, however, were in languages unknown to anyone else in Generic Large City. Reverting to English: "But a dirty mouth proves nothing. We've come to talk substance, not childish obscenity.

"My actual name is Victor Stoke. You already know that the Captain here is named Steve Roughroad. He doesn't hide his identity. Steve and I have different histories: different races, different generations, different career goals. But we share in common the understanding of how people ought to be. And between us, our combined experiences refute any argument you could make for preferring evil."

Steve Roughroad now said, "I know that you were horribly bullied as a boy and a young man. This didn't give you any right to rob, terrorize and murder innocent people, but it does buy you some sympathy from me. Growing up in Central Municipality, since I didn't have my current physical strength by heredity, I used to get bullied also. I might have become as bitter as you did, if I hadn't had the good fortune to be loved and supported by my parents, teachers and others. Now look at Victor. He was born recently enough that old-time segregation was already long gone. In high school, he was admired by classmates of all colors and both sexes for his football performance, and for his academic scores. He only began to know great grief when his mother passed away in the same accident which maimed him; and he knew that no segment of society had done this harm to him, just one tragic accident which could have happened to anyone of any ancestry.

"Victor and I could hardly be more different in background; him going from good circumstances to bad, me the reverse. Yet we both arrived at the same commitment to lawful goodness. His attaining super-powers came though terrible pain and the permanent loss of many human satisfactions; my acquiring of superior strength was purely a RELIEF from former vulnerability and frustration. But we both have the same advice to offer you. Right, Victor?"

"Right, Cap. Wisecracker, there was a philosopher, some dead white guy, who wrote about what he called 'the war of each against each.' A selfish wacko like you always thinks he can come out on top; but if the whole world adopts the same exact me-first attitude as you live by, this means that you have a planet full of billions of competing Wisecrackers, all of whom would kill you for a dollar before they got back to killing each other."

"Listen to them, Wisey," Harpy implored. "The same folks who defeated you 'cause it had to be done, will be the ones to help you turn your life around, if you'll just give up on the each-against-each like Cyberdork said."

Wisecracker looked thoughtful. "I have to admit that you spared my life, Captain, when you could have killed me for trying to kill you. That has to count for something...."

Just as the master criminal was inhaling his next breath, Steve Roughroad interjected: "Stop right there. You think you're going to startle us by coming back with some line like: 'Yes, it counts for me getting another shot at you later!' Then you'll do the same old maniacal laugh, which you think will be dismaying to us."

Now it was Wisecracker who was dismayed. "That's not fair! You're supposed to be taken off guard by my brilliant comeback!"

"Because good is dumb?" Steve sneered. "Get a life! Crooks like you think you're brilliant because you pull off spectacular crimes; but you can only do that because you have what's known as the aggressor's advantage. We're still going to help you come to the light if possible; but while you stubbornly wallow in the darkness, understand that we're NOT as impressed with you as you want us to be. Any idiot can be selfish, treacherous and violent; but you have no ORIGINALITY. Evil is the ultimate same-old same-old."

"And if you insult our friend Harpy again," Cyberdork warned, "I might just deactivate the speech center of your brain for the next twelve hours."

"Thanks, Vick," said Harpy. "And thanks to you, Steve. I think I'll head back to a REAL man, the man who HAS married me like Wise-Cretin would never do. Speaking of which: Wisey, if you ever get loose, I hope you do try to fight my new hubby. He got his game back, and he'll re-break all your broken bones, so I won't have to. My darling Alphonse is old-fashioned that way."

Wisecracker was fuming helplessly. But Cyberdork hovered over the life-support console, softly muttering: "Try me, creep. Just one ugly word; go right ahead. I may decide then to hit your Mute button for a week."
 
A one-post interlude, just because

The galactic despot Twerpseid had been demoralized by his defeat on "Urth." so he decided he'd better lower his expectations for a while.

Identifying a world whose non-humanoid natives-- looking sort of like snakes with one set of arms each-- had NEITHER superheroes NOR a high level of technology with which to resist conquest, the monarch of the ugly planet Awkwardlisp invaded.

Emerging from his dimensional tunnel, accompanied by a few hundred Pukedemons, in the most populated area of this planet, and activating his plotline-convenient language converter, Twerpseid sent out words in the hissing native language: "I am the invincible Twerpseid, future emperor of all existence! You must now surrender to me, and I will reward you with the privilege of spending your lives obeying my commands!"

The largest native in sight looked at the monarch of Awkwardlisp. His reply came through the aggressor's language converter:

"Better luck next planet, creep! We all read comic books here. We anticipated your invasion, and we requested help. Just look behind you, blowhard."

The villain turned around. There, grinning ominously at him, stood Mister T and Chuck Norris.

Pale and shivering, Twerpseid set a personal-best speed record fleeing back home through his dimensional tunnel.
 
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More changes of scene

Back at the north pole of Srirachiss, a technician named Tutti Howizzit was on watch as commander of the planet's satellite-control center. Tutti, born on the Ashtrayides homeworld of Waterpark, was the daughter of the late Tofu Howizzit, who had been the honored Mentalcat for the late Duke Neato.

Growing up on Waterpark, Tutti had gone around with a chip on her shoulder, looking for every chance to act tough and accuse men of disrespecting her. Upon moving to Srirachiss with Neato and Jazzica, she had been startled to find that Srirachian women simply already were as tough as they needed to be, and they all considered HER to be a wimp. This had been when Tutti finally came to appreciate her widowed father. Not only had Tofu helped his daughter's social position on the desert world by his own prestige, he had also found ways to help her improve Srirachian women's opinion of her.

After losing both of her parents and their Duke AND later another Duke in the person of Muddy-Drip, Tutti had felt a weight lifted from her shoulders when, on one of Muddy-Drip's brief reappearances, the second dead Duke had passed word for Tutti that her father in the afterlife was proud of her achievements. Now she was a respected Ashtrayides official. She had been on watch and scanning space on the day when the Selenium Falcon arrived in Srirachiss orbit.

Now, she had another incoming ship to track, and it WASN'T a Naughtygator hyper-jump vessel. From everything her satellites could sense, it was a ship designed to pass through actual intervening space, more or less, enroute to other star systems. Passing the space-watch alert to Chief Sleevecard, Tutti hailed the incoming arriving ship.

Unfamiliar though the spacecraft was, the person who answered the hail via video-comm was recognizable to everyone in the watch center.

"This is the beautiful and cunning Princess Eerilake," said the beautiful and cunning Princess Eerilake, daughter of the Calamari emperor whom Duke Muddy-Drip. had overthrown. "Although the late Muddy-Drip Ashtrayides never wanted to marry me because my father had caused the death of Muddy-Drip's father, I wish to prove that my love for him was sincere."

Tutti frowned. "Your Slyness, I'll ask you the same question Chief Sleevecard would ask you. We Srirachians--"(Tutti had adopted the attitude of being a Srirachian herself, which had scored points for her with the desert folk) "--know that you were not a party to Duke Neato's death; but what can you offer to convince us that you are POSITIVELY a friend to us?"

"The ship I'm riding, called Sky Queen without bothering to put it in italics, is my proof," replied the classy-looking blonde. "My own plotline-convenient spy network has informed me that you're trying to cancel your dependence on the Naughtygators for interstellar transportation. This ship is of similar type to Prince Groan Starr's ship, thus IS independent of the Spaced-Out Guild. I intend to give it to House Ashtrayides as a gift, no string theories attached."

Tutti refrained from saying anything about other efforts to obtain other-than-Spaced-Out-Guild space assets. Even if Lady Jazzica succeeded fabulously in this area, obtaining still another ship for the Srirachian-Ashtrayides community couldn't possibly hurt. "You are cleared to land, Your Slyness. You already know our arrival procedures. Chief Sleevecard will be informed at once."
 
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Mopey-One Kanoli's A-Frame fighter-bomber landed on the dwarf planet Hatpin. A passenger stepped out at the spaceport with him: Fizzra Teenybopper, the Fuss apprentice whose life had been saved by the sacrifice of his teacher Klayman Jitters.

"I picked him up at the Fuss Chapel on Barandgrillsoom," Master Kanoli told his acquaintances among the spaceport employees. "He wants to get back into the action, in Klayman's honor."

Fizzra elaborated on this by telling the workers: "At the Fuss Chapel, I was reading some books left there by the Starry Krishnas. The books all said that an up-sider must never fight anyone, because fighting anyone ever for any reason would automatically change me into a down-sider. They said that an up-sider adept never needed to do anything more aggressive than asking evildoers to pretty-please be nice. By the time that Master Kanoli found me, I was ready to lecture HIM about never fighting anyone."

Mopey-One sighed. "When I saw what Fizzra had been reading, I explained to him that the Starry Krishna Publishing House is totally owned by the Down-Side Fraternity, and exists for no other reason than to prevent well-intentioned persons from taking any effective action for the side of good."

A foreman of the spaceport workers, Blook Hollar, addressed Mopey-One: "Master Kanoli, I've read Starry Krishna booklets which get left in our terminal. They do seem to make some sense, talking about the path of action and the path of non-action."

"The emotional impression of alleged wisdom is one thing," said Fizzra. "But as Master Kanoli explained to me, neither an eagerness to act nor a reluctance to act has to be motivated by the moral indifference the Starry Krishnas advertise. I want to be engaged in events, not pretend I'm above them."

"Moral indifference, that's a good phrase," Blook remarked. "Who knows what would have happened to all of us here, if Master Windchime and our own boss hadn't had the guts to face that Hula-Hoop monster. "Speaking of which, Master Kanoli, Master Windchime and the girl he protected are waiting to see you in one of the second-floor conference rooms. Windchime assumes you can Fuss-detect him without further explanation."

"Or follow the sound of a blues guitar," said Mopey-One.

Mopey-One and Fizzra started for the elevators, and were joined on the way by Lackdough Carribiyan.
 
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On the "Terra" where Dreadfuldevil and Green Dart existed, back during this world's World War Two, two Native American men had joined the Army Air Corps at the same time. One, a Navajo, was named George Kills-With-Bricks; the other, an Osage, was named Frank Hawk's-Cry. Each derived his surname from an honored ancestor. One of George's great-great-grandfathers, when his village was attacked by raiding Comanches, had slain four of the attackers and injured three more --by throwing adobe bricks at their heads. One of Frank's great-grandfathers had also been a manly warrior, but his manhood name had simply arisen from his talent for imitating the calls of every local species of hawks.

Piloting P-47 Thunderbolts, George and Frank had soon been paired together because of their similar maneuvering styles in aerial combat. Safeguarding each other, they had racked up impressive kill numbers of Japanese fighter planes and bombers. By early 1944, they had both become squadron leaders, and their squadrons had been kept in the same fighter wing. This wing, picking up the spirit and skills of George and Frank, had continued hurting the enemy badly until war's end. The wing collectively had become known as The Brickhawks. George and Frank both had survived the war, and George's eldest daughter had eventually married Frank's eldest son.

Maureen Hawk's-Cry, founder of the new Brickhawks, was descended from the two fighter jocks. Because it was a scientific fact that not all female pilots could endure the gee-forces in jet planes, Maureen had organized her co-ed squadron to conduct helicopter operations. All of their choppers were combat-capable, with ordnance as up-to-date as they could obtain; but many of their missions were humanitarian, such as helping to extinguish forest fires.

Undertaking to sweep Africa for emergencies in the absence of Sky Lioness, the Brickhawks initially did fairly ordinary jobs, including several medical evacuation flights. But a day came when things got livelier.

Ernest Weller, one of Maureen's pilots, was cruising above the Serengeti, when a human form wearing a cape flew up alongside his helo and kept station on him, with a wave of greeting. Ernest was not alarmed; he recognized the flying man as Captain Sha-Na-Na, this Earth's only classic bulletproof hero. By gestures, Sha-Na-Na conveyed a request to get into the currently-vacant co-pilot's seat. Ernest slowed to a hover, to make this procedure simpler. Once inside the cockpit, Sha-Na-Na explained himself:

"Ernest, do you remember my enemy, Lady Blast?"

"The woman with blood-red skin, who can make any non-living object explode like a grenade?"

"That's the one. Conn Johnstantine discovered that she's somewhere in Africa now. It seems to him that she's joining up with animal poachers: planning to use her explosions to help trap the animals of interest."

Ernest got a lightbulb-goes-on look on his face. "And this would work best for them while Sky Lioness Katuva is absent from this continent. With birds to report to her everything they see, Katuva would be the most effective in tracking down the poachers: even more effective than Johnstantine."

"All right, I'll call Maureen on an encrypted channel. I'm sure we'll all be delighted to help you hunt down the illegal hunters."
 
In the America of Urth, top scientists were working by the Senphatorian plans, to build a Tachyon Loop generator. Scientists from sixty-three other nations were being allowed to watch and record each step of the process, though their nations, individually or in partnerships, would be on their own to build other Tachyon Loops. The Justified League made it known that they would not actively prevent any nation from building a Tachyon Loop, but they would consider giving active assistance only to nations which practiced freedom of speech and assembly, allowed private ownership of property, and conducted criminal trials with presumption of innocence. Furthermore, any nation which used the new technology to commit unprovoked aggression against another nation would be regarded as directly attacking the Justified League. "Let that sink in," said Luisa Dane Klint in a worldwide broadcast.

As for spacecraft to be boosted by a Tachyon Loop, numerous ships were already under construction, the building of spaceships being much less new and baffling than the building of Tachyon Loop generators. It was understood that the ships themselves would not possess anything like a hyperdrive built in. Because of this, Adam and Proxima Straightup took pains to remind the world that a ship transferred beyond the solar system by a Tachyon Loop would not be able to return home in the same way unless it could come back by its own power to a point near the point where it had been delivered on the outward flight. How near this would need to be, would depend on the quality of the Tachyon Loop generator involved. And even Superdude could not guarantee to find and rescue any ship which couldn't make it back to the retrieval point.

Starships dependent on this mode of crossing distance would face a similar sort of risk as propeller-driven airplanes in Urth's World War Two or earlier, flying over open ocean where they could get lost.

There were discussions in progress all over the world concerning the chance for new astronauts to be trained by Adam and Proxima. When the large-model ship under construction in the United States took its in-system trial flight, the Straightups would bring along eight foreign star-pilot candidates who would observe all procedures close up. Since Adam himself still was technically a United States citizen, America was not being left out. At a later stage, when the Tachyon Loop was brought into play for an interstellar leap to the friendly destination of Senphatori, the big ship would fly in company with the original Senphatorian ship. At that time, Proxima would be command pilot on the big ship and Adam would command the smaller original craft, since Proxima had longer experience flying spaceships than her husband had. Superdude and Superhottie were both committed to flying protective cover for the historic interstellar mission; they could simply let the Tachyon Loop transfer them along with the ships.

One of the merits of making this trip a trip to Senphatori would be that the Senphatorians could use their own Tachyon Loop to send the travelers back Urth-ward. In this way, the new astronauts would not yet be forced to rely for survival on finding their path back to the Tachyon Loop at their starting point.

Closer in time, as an international goodwill gesture, Adam and Proxima scheduled an Earth-orbit flight in their original ship. Two women and one man were chosen to ride with them. One woman was an astrophysicist from Paraguay; the other woman was a history professor from Bangladesh; and the man was a photographer from Zimbabwe. Jimmy Ulcer, Superdude's close friend and a reporter accustomed to meeting the most unusual sorts of people, received the plum assignment of interviewing these persons before and after their adventure.

The established Justified League member Black Parakeet, and the lately-recruited member Aluminum Banshee, had no role to play in preparations for future use of Urth's new Tachyon Loop technology; so they did in fact begin rehearsing as singers. Their first experimental performance was held at a spot in the Mojave Desert; and the trial audience listened...... from a mile away.

Sitting in this audience, because he was a singer himself, was League member Vigilant Cowboy.
 
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The sub-universe which was known to that Earth which was responsible for the Bubblewrap Five station had been mostly at peace since the Shadythings had withdrawn forever. But some casualties had gone unnoticed.

The Shadythings had gotten in on the sci-fi fad of spaceships being organic creatures. And in their case, they had found it expedient to capture intelligent beings of young races, then insert them as a kind of symbiote in Shadything warships. The use of these living computers had mostly worked well for the ancient evil beings-- though there had been a drawback. Psionically powered people could interfere with Shadything ships. And now, many months after the retreat of the Shadythings, one bio-warship still was around, hiding out in a solar system with no native life-forms. The ship was parked alongside a gas-giant planet, siphoning the planet's hydrogen as fuel for purposes of repair and recharging.

The captive bio-computer inside this warship was, or had been, a human male serving in Earthlyforce. Corin Webber, a fighter pilot, had been a brand-new servicemember at the time when the Mintcandybarri set out to kill all human beings everywhere because of one incident which had been partly the Mintcandybarri's own fault. The Mintcandybarri's warrior caste loved to boast about past victories, but had not been in a real fight for centuries; therefore, they had been delighted to refresh their combat experience against a decidedly weaker species. Mintcandybarri technology had excelled human technology pretty much the way jet-propelled aircraft could outperform propeller-driven aircraft.

Ground combat being by nature a simpler proposition than space combat, humans had fared much better on planetary surfaces than in space. On the ground, humans had managed to kill almost four Mintcandybarri for every five humans who were killed. But in space, humans had been lucky if they destroyed ANY Mintcandybarri craft, even small ones. Only one time had a Mintcandybarri capital ship been destroyed by human action, and Bruce Loxbagel, the hero of that engagement, was now the president of a galactic alliance.

This war had ended for mysterious reasons. The religious caste of Mintcandybar had discovered some secret mystical fact about an Earthlyforce hero named Jack Playfair, based on which they suddenly made peace. The Mintcandybarri, urged by a high-ranking woman called Deelyte, had subsequently SUPPORTED the human diplomatic effort embodied in the Bubblewrap Five habitat. Some of them had even gotten involved in trying to prepare Bubblewrap Five to withstand a coming offensive by the Shadythings. In the midst of this perilous time, Deelyte had fallen madly in love with then-Captain Loxbagel, who later married her at the same time he assumed his presidency.

Corin Webber had survived the Mintcandybarri War, and could say truthfully that he had at least damaged four enemy fighter craft before it was over. After Bubblewrap Five went operational, Corin had become part of the station's permanently-based fighter wing. He had found all Mintcandybarri residing on the station to be determined to make inter-species friendship work, but he never found out why they had stopped attacking mankind when mankind was virtually helpless.

There had been plenty of truth which Corin was not told. One thing he had NOT been told was that the ancient legendary Shadythings really existed. Because those in the know had kept him ignorant, Corin had independently gone hunting for clues about the unknown (to him) alien threat-- and had fallen prey to one of the spidery-looking Shadything ships.

The station leadership had presumed him to have been killed. But it was worse: he had been HARVESTED. Corin Webber had been turned into a data-processing unit serving the enemy. During the Shadything War which ensued, Corin had suffered the living hell of not being able to stop his own brain from being used to help kill humans and human-friendly aliens.

Only at the end, when the Shadythings had been conclusively driven away, had Corin succeeded in bringing his battle-damaged warship under HIS control. Thus, he had not joined the departure of the evil super-aliens. Instead, he had limped his ship away into an obscure area, to regenerate it while keeping it subjected to his own will. While he and his huge horrible symbiote were working back toward full function, he had carefully pondered all the knowledge he had acquired from Shadything databases.

Corin especially pondered information which led him to be certain that people on his own side had purposely withheld facts from him. They had withheld facts which, had he known them, would have prevented him from going all Captain Ahab against a Moby Dick which could swallow him.

Not the now-banished Shadythings, but people on HIS OWN side, had caused him to become this monstrosity. And Corin Webber began to feel that, since they had let him be turned into this materialized nightmare, they should be forced to SHARE in the horror.
 
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A special kind of review:

The Big Picture

My story has many sources to draw upon, but two must be explained before anything else.

As my title indicates, my starting point is Mel Brooks' movie "SPACEBALLS," which was a very loose parody of Star Wars. In Brooks' movie, the hero Lone Star is a mixture of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker: both a space pilot and a learner of supernormal powers. He is NOT related by blood to the princess, thus he can and does marry her. At the end of "SPACEBALLS," Lone Star learns that he is a literal prince by birth; but the movie doesn't bother to say WHAT place he is a prince OF. Therefore, when continuing (sort of) the Spaceballs narrative after that movie ended, my clear next step was to answer the question of my hero's birthplace.

I decided that my "Groan Starr" was born on my parody version of the planet Arrakis//Dune from Frank Herbert's intricate novels. (I have the ducal family residing there for longer than Herbert let them be before they got attacked) I imagine that Groan Starr is a brother to [my versions of] both Paul Atreides and Alia Atreides. Groan was born in between the other two, but didn't grow up with them. I imagine my version of Duke Leto BEING AWARE that he's in a story where nobody ever gets to have a happy ending; so he has the infant Groan transported elsewhere, in the hope that at least one "Ashtrayides" heir can enjoy something like a normal life. So my "Groan Starr" doesn't get to find out that he's a product of the "Dune" story until after he marries my version of Princess Vespa.

As one of my departures from Frank Herbert's merciless pessimism, I depict my version of Alia enjoying a SUCCESSFUL marriage with my version of the Mentat Duncan Idaho. After Groan Starr and Princess Vixen land on "Srirachiss" and introduce themselves to Trala-Lalia and Bunkem, an apparition of the late "Muddy-Drip" ( = Muad'dib) .informs them that they all need to embark on a quest to expose an unseen evil power which wants to make ALL stories end unhappily. This evil power, naturally, combines a version of the Sith with a version of the Harkonnens.

Everything else in my story has at least an indirect connection with this mission. Even characters in far-separated locations, who so far have never met my main characters, are part of the struggle against existential despair. This includes the inhabitants of many versions of Earth itself. Note that I do NOT go along with the idea that every individual choice made by people causes A NEW PLANET IN ANOTHER DIMENSION to be created, just on account of one decision. The diverse Earths all exist within ONE space-time continuum, and their creation is under God's will, not springing from trivial decisions. Few people on any of these Earths, and no one on some of them, are aware that theirs isn't the only Earth. But since my version of the Green Lantern Corps travels the universe routinely, all of THEM are aware of multiple Earths.

Also, in a recent chapter, Drool of Upsydaisylon informed my version of the Babylon Five cast that he had found out there were multiple Earths.

My multiverse includes figures from Dune and Star Wars of course, plus DC Comics, Marvel Comics, "Babylon Five," "Sailor Moon" and "Starship Troopers." Some of my favorite characters, like Aquaman and Captain America, are seen in more than one incarnation. BOTH of my versions of Harley Quinn have been converted to the side of good, because this is MY story.

In the actual world, there actually is an evil power trying to make people believe that "good is dumb." In my story, this spiritual sabotage is being carried on by devil-figures such as my version of H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu.
 
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Planet Directvideo

Early one evening in the guest wing of King Lowbrain's palace, a Chimpanzian ape-woman sought admittance. Her name was Drusena, and she had been a girlfriend to Minister Proconsul-- that is, to the ACTUAL, now-deceased, Proconsul-- at their equivalent of high school. Their families were long-time friends, and there had been on-and-off talk of Drusena and Proconsul eventually marrying. The fizzling out of this notion had not occasioned any resentment on either side.

A concierge brought word to the Face Twister posing as Proconsul, who said, "I'll meet her in the west lounge." While waiting for his visitor, the Face Twister whose true name was Fooldemall, did some hasty thinking. He had no biography on Drusena; he had not anticipated having to talk with Chimpanzians who had business on Directvideo.

Lie big, he decided.

When Drusena entered the sitting room, Fooldemall rose to his feet, with an anxious expression on his face. From a pocket, he pulled out a game-playing device manufactured on Greedy Crime, and started it flashing its lights. "Listen carefully, sweetheart," he hissed: a way of keeping her from getting suspicious about his voice. "This device is shielding us against surveillance. It's the mercy of the Universe that you came; now you can help me."

Drusena had no reason to guess that this might not be her former prospective husband. "Go on," she urged him; "tell me what you need."

Still whispering: "Good girl! First, you know who Dark Headgear is, don't you?"

"He's one of the Spacebullion leaders who attacked Directvideo. He was one of the enemy survivors who landed briefly on our planet."

"Excellent. And you know that Princess Vixen was a captive on the Spacebullion mega-mothership. She SEEMED to be her normal self later, when she came home and that stranger Groan Starr arrived to claim her as a bride. But sources whom I dare not identify tell me that they think Vixen was tampered with mentally. Her staying away since then may be an effort to prevent King Lowbrain from detecting anything out of the ordinary with his daughter. My sources and I are afraid that the Spacebullions aren't finished with us yet."

The ape-woman's eyes widened. "Are you saying that Princess Vixen may be under something like hypnotic control, so that she would do things the Spacebullions want?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But Bob Snooze was kicked out of office! The people in charge now on Spacebull are friendly to our solar system!"

Fooldemall glanced melodramatically left and right. "They might only be pretending to be friendly to us. Maybe they only pretended to put President Snooze and Dark Headgear under arrest. Just getting us off guard. Since they lost their mega-mothership, they'll need some different advantage if they try to attack us again."

"Then what do you want me to do to help?"

"When you leave here, act as if we had a pleasant visit, but nothing intense. Do the things you would normally do for the rest of your time here. But when you get back to Chimpanzia, take every opportunity to talk to anyone influential. What I want you to say to people is that you've heard good things about Duke Diskoduck. And this will be true, because I do have good things to say about him. Diskoduck is an honest man, loyal to his family, and with no ambitions to rise above his position in planetary society. He undertakes any business his uncle the King wants him to do, and I've heard him defend his cousin Vixen against any suspicions that she's unworthy to be a Queen."

Drusena nodded. "He sounds like a noble gentleman."

"So he is. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but a decent fellow. If Princess Vixen proves to be free of mental manipulation, well and good. But if somehow she ISN'T competent as a royal heir, then we'll need to assist the Duke any way we can. In such a crisis, if Lowbrain realizes that the Chimpanzian people have a favorable opinion of Diskoduck, maybe he'll find the backbone to make his nephew the heir to his throne."
 
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Dwarf Planet Hatpin, Sorghum System


Mopey-One Kanoli had been able to get some sleep enroute, since Eight-Ball could serve as an autopilot on a simple direct-course voyage. Thus, after his arrival at Expansive Asteroid Base, and after his initial introduction to Lackdough and Melodica, he stood a night watch while the others slept. During this watch, he listened to night-shift employees' accounts of the eldritch fiend invading their dining room. But Kuth-Hula-Hoop did not attempt a return attack. More than a few of the casino staff confided to the Fuss master that they would feel much more sure of the fiend leaving them alone if Melodica departed the Sorghum System.

In the morning, after breakfast and before Mopey-One went to bed, Master Windchime tuned his guitar and introduced a song which no one else here, indeed no one else in this star system, had ever heard before. "This song was written by a man whose wife left him because she just felt like it. He titled it 'The Long Goodbye Road'.

'I tried to give enjoyment; she was disappointed;
Put me on the long goodbye road.
But she didn't smear me to the people near me;
Give her credit for the high road.
Not the way I prayed it, this is how she made it:
Solo driving now on my road.

'She's not condemned in flames for this; our God gives grace;
But getting papers, not a kiss, is hard to face.

'Here on the long goodbye road, truthful words that I wrote
Seem completely vain and empty,
Since the sheriff's mission brought me her petition;
What a valentine she sent me!
Guess in her opinion, I'm a stupid minion.
And she never should have wed me.

'Something in her past made it hard for her to love.
She didn't plan that; let's just say my luck was tough.

In singing I was too stiff to perform a blues riff,
Till the long goodbye transformed me.
Sadness in September forced me to remember:
From the very start, she warned me.
Now she has it her way, blues became the sure way
I can make it through my story.

'Some folks will say it's my fault just 'cause I'm the man.
I can't prevent that; only do the best I can.

'I thought that I would never have divorce to weather,
But the one I loved has free will.
Love's a break-your-back job; she prefers a lap dog!
Now she's free to live as she will.
Though it will be painful knowing she's disdainful,
I refuse to call her evil.

'These hard goodbyes cannot be healed by hate and rage;
What matters is to see our names on Heaven's page.
Someday we'll meet again,, and then she'll show no sneers;
That will be in the place where Jesus dries all tears.

(Strummitty-strum) Goodbye, goodbye.' "

Melodica asked, "Who's Jesus?"

"He," replied Moose Windchime, "is greater than Kuth-Hula-Hoop, and greater than The Fuss. He is above all stories or speculations or dreams of mortals. He doesn't interfere constantly in our stories, because He wants us to HAVE stories which are real to us; but He is never far away. He is the reason why I was not afraid of Kuth-Hula-Hoop; and He is present in the very best of blues songs."

"That's right," Mopey-One agreed, gazing at Melodica. "I've heard Moose play before. The stories we live and move in are full of 'universe this, universe that' language; but the universe, any universe, has a beginning. Jesus is the beginning and the end. Extra cosmic flourishes exist in our story-cosmos, the better to create intricate stories; and our free will feeds our stories; but there's a stable, foundational reality underlying all-- and it's a lot more personal than 'midi-chlorians'."
 
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In the West Africa of "Terra"

The Brickhawks were eight persons in number, not counting ground mechanics and ordnance handlers they employed. They had six helicopters they usually flew; the two extra members were the crew for a specialized heavy-lift cargo helicopter (which was also used in fighting forest fires). A black Mauritanian man named Brad Sarfaraz, and a Vietnamese-American man named Warren Trinh, were the crew of the big helo when it was used, and were co-pilots or alternate pilots for the smaller aircraft at other times.

Today, Brad and Warren were needed in their own special aircraft, to transport armed game wardens who would officially arrest any poachers they caught. The six gunship helos were flying wide recon over the jungle, while Captain Sha-Na-Na flew a wider circle outside their zone. In case Lady Blast was nearby, all the Brickhawks remained at an altitude higher than the known range of the super-villainess' explosion-causing ability. Captain Sha-Na-Na would have to tackle her if she was around.

Willy Bastion, who was Sha-Na-Na, didn't have X-ray vision, but could see details at long range. Eventually, he spotted suspicious movement. Notifying Maureen Hawk's-Cry by earbug radio, he swooped in close.

He saw that something had happened within an area too narrow to be obvious from the air. Something like a deep water-well in progress was there, at least twenty feet deep. The top end of a rope ladder was firmly staked in the ground, hanging down the hole. From the bottom came sounds of men loosening soil further: stony soil at their depth. (Loosened soil pulled up in buckets?)

Levitating downward into the hole, Sha-Na-Na saw that somebody was down there---but---human??

As soon as the top of his head was four feet lower than the surface of the ground, the ground all around him--exploded. He reacted fast enough to shout "Lady Blast!" over the radio link. The villainess would not have been able to make any living person's body explode, but she could cause a cave-in of soil, and had just now done so. Yet the men down there must have been enlarging an excavation that she had begun herself; why sacrifice them for the sake of springing a trap which wouldn't even kill the superhero?

In the last instant before daylight was blocked by the cave-in, Sha-Na-Na saw that it had not been human workmen at the bottom: it was an ogre-like figure weighing more than 400 pounds. The hero recognized this as his old enemy, Red Slaughter, who HAD been in prison the last the hero knew. Now, in pitch darkness, the humanoid monstrosity scrambled up the shaft and grabbed hold of the superhero.

The struggle which followed had no room for skill or tactics. Hero and villain could not have avoided each other if they wanted to. They clinched and gripped and strangled and bit and clawed and head-butted; and since each was very hard to kill, the bitter battle went on and on and on.

Unable to speak anymore with Sha-Na-Na, Maureen called on all the Brickhawks to land at separate spots. On foot, joined by the game wardens, they converged around the underground battleground. The only identification of an adversary they had heard was of Lady Blast, and there was no sign of her. Ernest and Brad had both brought along entrenching tools, and they urgently began digging.
 
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The ambush had in fact been planned for Sky Lioness. The villains were unable to look over Copperfox's shoulder while he wrote, and Katuva didn't travel by commercial airlines; so Lady Blast and Red Slaughter were unaware that Conn Johnstanine had asked the African super-heroine to meet him in Korea before he asked Sha-Na-Na to assist the Brickhawks in covering Katuva's territory.

Lady Blast had indeed associated herself with poachers, but wanted them as gunmen rather than as animal trappers. The poachers had been glad enough to join up with two super-villains. reckoning that this operation would make their future crimes easier to get away with.

Although Sky Lioness had less flying ability than Sha-Na-Na, her hand-to-hand fighting style on the ground relied on maneuverability and agility much more than was the case with Willy Bastion, because the Lioness was more vulnerable to physical damage than the caped hero was. If it had been Katuva trapped in the pit with Red Slaughter, unable to maneuver at all, her chances of winning would have been very poor. As it was, the struggle between Red Slaughter and Captain Sha-Na-Na looked (or rather, sounded) like going into extra rounds.

Ernest and Brad had not gotten very far digging before one of the fourteen game wardens shouted a warning. More than forty poachers, armed with high-grade automatic firearms which no gun-control regulation had prevented them from obtaining, were closing in from three sides. Twenty-two good guys, the Brickhawks with sidearms and the wardens with their own automatic rifles, turned to defend themselves.

The location offered cover to both sides in the form of thick-trunked trees; but what really prevented immediate fatalities on both sides was The A-Team Effect. Known in many story-worlds, The A-Team Effect meant that two opposing forces with guns could stand twenty feet apart, firing furiously at each other, without anyone, even bad guys, getting killed. Even with movie-style guns which never seemed to run out of bullets, there still were no deaths. Of the Brickhawks, Warren Trinh, Ernest Weller, Pamela Lovejoy, Juanita Vasquez, Todd Morris and Lashimba Sweetwater all received non-critical flesh wounds in their left shoulders. Ten of the fourteen game wardens also received non-critical flesh wounds in THEIR left shoulders. And all but eleven of the poachers received-- yeah, you guessed it.

Finally, the bullets did run out for both sides. So six intact good guys began a grand fistfight against eleven intact bad guys.

All of the poachers were male; and they had never seen the memo that they were supposed to collapse helplessly as soon as any female above the age of six kicked them. So the good side did have some difficulty. But in the end, good-guy-ness prevailed; and with no sign of Lady Blast showing herself to help them, all the bad guys surrendered. Their surrender, however, was short-lived.

The loose dirt in the pit heaved, and into daylight emerged Red Slaughter, carrying-- not Captain Sha-Na-Na, but the thirteen-year-old Willy Bastion. "I win!" roared the ogre. "I hit him in the head hard enough to stun him, and he turned back to his mere-mortal form! Now it's you good guys who have to surrender, or I'll do as much bodily harm to him as a relatively light-hearted story will permit me to do!"

Meanwhile: as for Lady Blast, her absence was no deep mystery. Waiting in concealment for Sky Lioness to appear, and seeing no sign of the superheroine, she had guessed that maybe Sky Lioness was waiting farther out, watching for her own best moment to act. So, mounting an all-terrain four-wheeler, she had gone impatiently hunting for her target.

But out of sight of the combatants among the trees, the maker of explosions had run afoul of someone ELSE'S explosion. A low-charge radio-controlled land mine blew up under her wheels, tossing her into the air to fall with a mighty slam. Before she could recover, a tall, handsome black man pounced on her. Apparently knowing that Lady Blast could explode any chains or handcuffs off of herself, the man swiftly injected her with a powerful tranquilizer, the sort used by the game wardens to subdue animals non-fatally at need.

Lady Blast's captor had no super-powers, but was functionally an equivalent of Batman. Richard Berhanu, known to the world as The Javelin, was a this-world counterpart of an Original Earth African comicbook hero called The Spear.
 
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Red Slaughter didn't know that The Javelin was in the picture. But he did know that superheroes were often saved from disaster by unlikely turns of luck. So he and Lady Blast had come up with a backup trick, in case their expected victory over Sky Lioness (their expected main adversary) turned sour. Despite the Brickhawks all submitting to being tied up, and their helicopters being taken over by poachers who had helicopter training from service in mercenary armies, Red Slaughter was uneasy about not hearing from his colleague. So he decided to administer to Captain Sha-Na-Na the little surprise which had been intended for Sky Lioness if Sky Lioness was not simply killed.

No one else realized what the ogre was doing when he used a small ampule to inject a microchip into young Mister Bastion's neck near the spinal column. This microchip quickly began studying the memories in the youth's brain cells, in order to tamper with them. The chip was adaptable enough that it didn't have to be administered only to a particular person in order to work. It was programmed with basic parameters of goodness-- and was designed to interfere with these.

Willy Bastion! We find that you were chosen for the privilege of becoming Captain Sha-Na-Na because you were honest, unselfish, kind, loyal, truthful, brave and smart. HOW BORING! Goodness is dull! Without the imaginative brilliance and free spirit of evil, the world would be hopelessly predictable! But never fear: it is not too late for you to escape from the dreary, unchanging routines of goodness. We shall RETCON your biography! It shall now be true that you were chosen as a superhero because you WERE NOT clean and honorable! We will make it be a fact that you were a spoiled brat, a habitual thief, caring for no one but yourself, breaking promises to your best friends, pursuing your own pleasure supremely, and scared spineless of any real antagonist. You will continue your career from this fresh start; but henceforth, you will show all of Terra that evil is good, darkness is light, and bitter is sweet!

Willy Bastion didn't understand what was happening. He was accustomed to evildoers using common weapons, or physical strength, or sometimes magic. He had less experience with high technology. His mind scarcely registered what was happening when The Javelin led a counterattack, joined by superheroes including The Kestrel and Green Dart, and the captured good guys were all rescued. Red Slaughter somehow escaped, and the Brickhawks' helicopters were gone, but Lady Blast remained a prisoner, and the net outcome seemed excellent for the side of good.

All of this went over Willy's head. Sitting on the ground, he remembered with pleasure times when he had shoplifted from stores without ever getting caught. But he was a little puzzled over why he seemed to be remembering this for the first time ever.
 
The Africa of "Terra" had suffered for decades from a close counterpart of Nigeria's Boko Haram terrorists on Original Earth. Sky Lioness and The Javelin had greatly weakened them, aided at intervals by The Kestrel and Captain Sha-Na-Na; but they still existed. And Red Slaughter knew where to find one of their cells.

"Izdihar? Are you free to talk?"

"Ah, it's you, friend Slaughter. We managed to monitor some radio calls among the game wardens. Am I right that our sister Lady Blast suffered misfortune?"

"So she did. Superheroes took her captive. But maybe she'll escape. Even if she can't get away on her own, two things at least have gone our way. Firstly, we have captured ALL of the helicopters of the Brickhawks."

Izdihar frowned in thought. "Hmm, good at least to deprive our enemies of their valuable aircraft. But we can scarcely use them ourselves without attracting retaliation by every government in Africa, as well as by superheroes."

Red Slaughter sighed. "You're probably right. But perhaps you could disassemble them, and include their parts in new helicopters for Boko Hassan to use."

"That may be feasible."

"But now for the bigger news....." The ogre proceeded to explain what he had done to Captain Sha-Na-Na, concluding: "Although he won't outright join us, he will become far less effective in opposing us."

"Then we will set about studying how to make use of these favorable developments. We know how to play the long game; we've been doing it for over thirteen centuries."
 
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Planet Srirachiss

Tutti Howizzit, the satellite-tracking officer, went to the landing field to be among those welcoming Princess Eerilake. Joining her were Lady Gladiola, daughter of Muddy-Drip and Grainy, who had been here familiarizing herself with spaceport operations; and a high-ranking desert warrior named Kracknuk. Already at the landing pad was a young Penny Jezebel named Fluralida, who had the specific duty of sensing any lies told by incoming travelers.

The ship which landed was ten or fifteen percent larger than the Selenium Falcon. The suave and poised Princess Eerilake emerged, accompanied by a colorfully-attired man who was known to House Ashtrayides: Count Havabeer, the top fighter among swordsmen in the former Calamari court. It was assessed that, of all warriors on Srirachiss, no more than a few dozen would have a chance against Havabeer one-to-one in close combat. Jazzica and her two grandchildren would be among these, along with Trala-Lalia, Chief Sleevecard and Bunkem Isotope.

The rank-and-file Srirachian and Ashtrayides troops knew to take him very seriously; and Count Havabeer smirked upon realizing that ten or twelve riflemen in elevated positions were keeping clear lines of fire to his head. If he turned on his personal shield unit, he would be bulletproof; but if he did activate the shield for any reason, he would immediately be set upon by three or four skilled fighters who knew the technique of inserting blades inside a shield by slow thrusting. And if he killed those assailants, ten more would follow them, until the Count was counted out for keeps.

That was all right. Havabeer and the Princess really were coming in peace; and Havabeer knew that no one belonging to or associated with House Ashtrayides would ever treacherously assault any visitor who came in peace.

As the Ashtrayides of highest social rank now present, Gladiola introduced herself. "Welcome, Princess and Count. I am Gladiola Ashtrayides, daughter of the glorious Duke Muddy-Drip." Gladiola knew that both of the distinguished visitors knew the sign language of the Penny Jezebels. Therefore, upon completing her spoken self-introduction, her fingers added the following directly at Havabeer: WHO, ON HIS WORST DAY, COULD HAVE BEATEN YOU WITH ONE HAND TIED BEHIND HIS BACK.

I DON'T MIND ADMITTING THAT THIS IS TRUE, the Count signed in reply. Eerilake merely smiled. She truly had loved Muddy-Drip after her fashion, and was always pleased to find him being honored. So she was as light of heart as her circumstances allowed.

"Thank you for your greeting, Lady Gladiola. Before I say more: a question for your own peace of mind. Are you satisfied that this landing field is secure against any hostile spying?"

Captain Kracknuk answered for Gladiola: "We are indeed confident on that score." It was not inappropriate for him to answer the question, because he spent far more time on duty at this location than anyone in the ducal family did. Still, Havabeer noted that Gladiola did not rebuke the officer for speaking out of turn. One more little reminder of what above all had made House Ashtrayides powerful and prosperous: they did not treat their subordinates like inferior beings, and so the subordinates loved their rulers.

Tutti added: "Princess, let me demonstrate our own good faith, by telling you this openly. In case you have not kept close track, Lady Gladiola's Penny Jezebel training has come far enough that by now, she can detect a liar at least as dependably as you yourself can. So as long as you speak truth, you need have no fear of not being believed."

Eerilake nodded to the watch commander, then told the welcoming party in general: "The reason for the Count's question is that we are about to reveal something which is to your advantage; and you would not want anyone hostile to know about it. The Snarkonnens have long ceased to respect my declining dynasty, so I owe them no consideration." She looked Gladiola in the eyes. "And some people VERY hostile to your Uncle Groan Starr have begun working with House Snarkonnen. You would not want them to know how far you have progressed toward becoming independent in the area of galactic travel."

Count Havabeer looked back at the ship he and Eerilake had arrived in. "Professor! Please come out and join us!"

An average-looking woman, albeit one with an air of sober wisdom, emerged, along with the ship's flight crew. "I greet the leadership of Srirachiss, and thank you for welcoming us! I am Professor Jean Yuss, Minister of Science for the reformed government of Planet Spacebull; and I do indeed have information profitable for you."
 
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Fluralida performed her own Penny Jezebel reading of Jean Yuss' character, and pronounced her to be a well-intentioned visitor. Gladiola agreed. Soon, inside one of the spaceport buildings, Professor Yuss introduced her hosts to what was probably the most sophisticated item in all of Spacebullion technology.

"This is what we call a reality-stream insertion extractor. There was one of these on board the mega-mothership. It processes real events as if they were part of a motion picture to be viewed at will. It can't see the future, but it can search backward at least two months into the past. Oh, and those are the months of Planet Spacebull, each one of which is forty-one days long. The only catch is that whoever uses the device in a new search has to have some kind of involvement with the sequence of events being studied.

"You will have been told by Groan Starr and his bride Vixen how my planet, before its evil ruler was overthrown, tried to kill all life on Vixen's planet. The new administration on Spacebull, by way of reparation, will soon be gifting one of these past-event scanners to King Lowbrain; and this one here is being given to House Ashtrayides.

"In order to obtain and record the specific information I want to show you, I needed to involve someone who had taken some part in the event sequence. Fortunately, we had taken into custody many surviving crewmembers of Ex-President Snooze's ship. Forcing some of them to activate the device, I was finally able to extract the vital subsequent event sequence, even though it went beyond what our prisoners had personally experienced."

When Professor Yuss activated the display, it showed everyone present how, after Admiral Blender escaped from being arrested, he had found his way to Greedy Crime and entered service with Baron Meedi Ogre Snarkonnen. It also showed plenty of the activities of Doctor Dizwarn, as he tried to poison humanity's belief in goodness.

There was even a capsulization of how Dizwarn had taken inspiration from an Original Earth costumed action movie which had itself been an attack on the belief in goodness. The movie, based on tales written by someone called Robert Howard, had centered around a seventeenth-century English Puritan named Solomon Kane, who was a swordsman easily in Count Havabeer's league. The written stories had unambiguously depicted Solomon Kane as a one-hundred-percent good guy, noble and truthful and compassionate and fearless at all times. But the movie, much to the delight of Dizwarn and the Snarkonnens, had made Kane start out as one hundred percent evil, a predatory and cynical pirate. It had taken almost the whole film for Kane to become something like his literary persona; and the movie had ENDED just as Kane was only barely STARTING to be recognizable as Robert Howard's virtuous hero.

The Professor's audience learned much of what had occurred with Admiral Blender on the Snarkonnen homeworld, and they learned about Groan Starr's party voyaging to Seedubb Earth. Of special importance was the fact that Groan Starr's party had encountered an automated spaceship of Snarkonnen manufacture. Not only was this fact important in itself, but the personal-association element could use Groan's encounter with Lazytaxie technology to extract at least glimpses of Lazytaxie Face Twisters active on Seedubb.

"Grandmother, Chief Sleevecard and my brother must see this as soon as possible," Gladiola declared. She and Fluralida had exchanged sign-language remarks with each other during the presentation.

Tutti looked at Eerilake. "Your Slyness, bringing us this intelligence earns you a great deal of goodwill here on Srirachiss. But how did you come to be with Professor Yuss, to end up accompanying her to Srirachiss?"

"It was the Professor's doing," the blonde princess replied. "By extraordinarily brilliant use of the reality reviewer, she was able to cross-reference her surveillance of Greedy Crime into views of other worlds in our Frank Herbert-rooted zone of reality. Coming then to my current home planet in the same ship you have seen, she made noises to my imperial father about seeking trade and cultural exchange. I jumped at the chance to make this new acquaintance; and since Count Havabeer is high in my father's favor, his volunteering to join the adventure helped to ensure my father's approval."

Captain Kracknuk now spoke again: "Princess Eerilake, I'm told that you announced, while you were approaching, that you were going to GIVE your ship to us. But am I mistaken, or does the ship really belong to the Professor's government?"

"It did, Captain. But the Professor was empowered to dispose of Sky Queen in any way which benefited her world. And she agreed with me that inaugurating friendly ties between her planet and yours was worth paying a ship for."

"You realize, Your Slyness," put in Captain Kracknuk, "that, unless we can trust the detained Naughtygators not to pull some treachery, we have no way right now to transport you back home."

"Then let my earned goodwill buy me lodging on Srirachiss for some weeks to come," replied Eerilake. Then she looked at Gladiola. "I would like to increase my acquaintance with you and Stillneater. I hope you don't hold it against me that I can't help wishing I could have been your mother."

"Because I can sense that you don't mean your words in any spiteful way," Gladiola replied, "because Fluralida here concurs, and because in our timeline you didn't do any of the really nasty things toward our mother that Frank Herbert imagined you doing, I don't hold your feeling against you. We should get along well."
 
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With the Justified League on "Urth"

Greg Sutter, alias Vigilant Cowboy, had been a charismatic extrovert all his life, but had not been allowed to reap the fruits of his own popularity as he would have liked. The girl he loved in high school in Montana had died in a highway collision-- killed by a drunk driver. The girl he loved in his second year of college in North Dakota had been a rodeo rider, but had died from a broken neck in a tragic fall from her horse. This second bereavement had been the beginning of Greg's shift of attention from horses to motorcycles.

The girl he dated when he was a senior in college, Ruby Spruce by name, had almost died from cancer; but no less a person than Superdude had saved her life. Managing to narrow the focus of his X-ray vision to a microscopic width, Superdude had literally killed the girl's tumors cell by cell, without more radiation damage to her normal tissues than she could easily recover from. The girl had emerged from the hospital with a restored life expectancy --and with an understandable mega-crush on Superdude. Greg knew that Superdude had never meant to steal the girl, wasn't interested in her; and the girl had never made any clear promises to Greg; so he had moved on.

He had embarked on a benevolent version of what Original Earth would come to call "Men Going Their Own Way." Greg's "own way" involved singing family-friendly country-western songs, applying his horse-handling skills to use gentle horses as rehabilitation partners for troubled children, promoting addiction-recovery programs, teaching motorcycle safety, teaching firearm safety, supporting historical re-enactment groups.... and eventually joining the Justified League at the personal request of Superdude. The top-tier hero had visited Restoration Ranch, which was the formal name of Greg's property, for this purpose.

"I can't put a finger on it," the Tonkrypian had told Greg, "but I believe there's an unseen force trying to make mundane people believe that goodness is a fraud, or that it can't prevail. You, Mister Sutter, prove by the very life you lead that this evil force is lying. You're an authentic Roy Autry type. Your practical skills, plus your known integrity of character, would make you a valuable member without needing to hide your actual identity-- just as I don't bother hiding mine. In fact, I could say that your unshakeable decency IS your superpower. We'll even accept you carrying firearms, provided you try in good faith not to kill criminals if this can be avoided without throwing your own life away. And for sure, we'll give you plenty of publicity for your outreach programs." Greg had accepted the invitation happily; it would reinforce for him the sense of having direction in his life.

The more pugnacious League members, like Black Parakeet (who had also been known to pack a pistol), had suggested that Greg name himself "Vigilante." But that word carried even harsher connotations on Urth by this time in history than it had come to have on Original Earth. Horse wranglers with whom Greg worked in his ministry to abused and rejected children favored a takeoff on the suggested hero-name. Since Greg was always vigilant to anticipate and prevent mishaps for horse or motorcycle riders, they had persuaded him to make his nom-de-guerre "Vigilant Cowboy."

The magical time-jump which sent Sir Jasper forward from the early Middle Ages had dropped him and Winged Virtue on modern Urth mere months after Greg joined the Justified League. The enchantment had rendered Jasper already able to understand modern English; but Vigilant Cowboy, with experience rivaling psychiatrists in dealing with bewildered souls, had immediately become Jasper's first and most reassuring friend in the modern world. The two men had intuitively recognized each other as kindred spirits: two men for whom honor, fair dealing and responsibility came as naturally as breathing. Greg had also become the first modern man with whom the flying horse felt fully at ease; as a result, Greg's private horse ranch had become a part-time residence for both the pegasoid steed and his rider.

Greg had also acquired the task of explaining to Sir Jasper how to use modern plumbing.

After many days of rushing here and there to assist with publicity for the Tachyon Loop ventures, Greg had just found time to resume his hands-on supervision of horse therapy at his ranch. The staff he had hired enjoyed rapport with all the child clients, but were glad to have the boss back on the ranch. Barely two hours into the work day, however, one girl on the staff hurried up to tell Greg:

"Um, boss, you remember that fire-headed guy who joined your League?"

"Of course, Taffy, that's Martin Alpert, lately known as Atomic Scalp."

"Well, he's over outside the main gate. He won't come closer without an invitation; he's even tryin' to stay downwind of the stable and paddock, so's not to spook the horses. But he wants to talk with you. Says it's about helpin' him along with life as a good guy."

So Vigilant Cowboy ran east to his property's perimeter to find out what his new colleague needed.
 
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