Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

Atomic Scalp's radioactivity was contained somehow, because fantasy. Consequently, Greg could approach to handshaking range without having his skin blister or his body cells become cancerous; as they shook hands, he merely felt as if he were standing close to a hot ordinary flame. "Morning, Scalpie! Good of you to anticipate the hazard of spookin' my livestock. What can I do for you?"

"Everyone knows how approachable you are, Cowboy, and how much understanding of life you have. And how you've borne disappointment without becoming bitter. I'm doing all right with material challenges like watching out for flammable liquids. But now that I'm being as human as I can, I'd like some guidance with ACTING human again."

Greg nodded. "You were born human, just like me an' my wranglers and the kids we train. Happened you got changed into, um, a different fashion statement, and yep, the super-powers were excitin' to have. Maybe the chance to settle scores on people you didn't like. For sure, havin' people be scared of you. But now you've turned good-- and have no doubts, I do know yer conversion t'be genuine-- you wish to have human interactions. It don't get more normal and right than this desire. And you don't just want to play Texas Hold 'Em or watch baseball games. You wish that there could be a lady you could go dancing with, preferably without settin' the club on fire. A lady who can take dancing close with you, eventually get married and make a home. Not one durn thing wrong with this desire. You know I've had the same desire, and if it can still work out someday, I'll darn-all go for it.

"But in your case, I don't know if you can get un-monsterized; so natur'ly, it'd be the deer-path of least resistance if some gal who couldn't get burned took a shine to you. Sad to say, while Superhottie an' Brazilian Flame would both be physically able to get cozy with you unhurt, them acceptin' you as bein' a white-hat now don't mean you can expect 'em to shop for wedding dresses." Greg looked down, then met Scalpie's gaze once more. "So let's be sure about the trail sign we're followin' here. Are you wantin' to be shed of the portable barbecue for good and all? Or are you wishin' you could stay as you are physically, but somehow STILL be able to score yourself some love and caring?"

A rasping sigh escaped the former evlldoer's fleshless lips. "I figure if I'm going to make forlorn wishes, I might as well be ambitious with what I ask for. I know you have no magic-- unless it counts as magic when you take abused horses and abused children, then teach them how to heal each other. But I know that if nothing else, you'll hear me out without judging me. Did I just say 'without judging'? That's SUCH an overused catch phrase."

"But I s'pose it applies here. Go on."

"I wish that I were able to SWITCH my powers on and off at will, so I could have a normal human life, even raise a family, but still could be a soldier for the Justified League, helping to stop the kind of evil I used to do."

Greg slapped his Stetson hat against one knee of his jeans. "God bless you, buddy, that WOULD be the best of all possible worlds! And things have worked that way with at least some superheroes. But I got me less'n zero knowledge of cryptobiology or mutational genetics, so I got no clue 'bout can it happen for you."

Scalpie's blazing head made a blazing nod. "Yes, I realize you can't change me. But what you can do, you're already doing: helping me to get my thoughts in order. Any outcome to my dilemma will be more bearable if I can learn to look at it the way you look at things."

Greg looked straight up into the sky, then met Scalpie's eyes once again. "Y'know, the Apostle Paul wrote to them folks in Philippi that he knew both how to enjoy good fortune and how to endure deprivation. What I can try to do for you is lead you to an attitude where if you somehow can have a wife, great, but if you never get that wish granted, you won't have a sulk and reject whatever good things you ARE allowed to have. For now, I'll bring up the question to our eggheads, whether they can find a way to un-monsterize you for TEMPORARY periods."
 
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Taffy the young ranch worker had never been told NOT to tell the staff and children who was visiting. No more than two minutes into the private superhero conference, the porch and front windows of Greg's house were jammed with children, wranglers and visiting parents. None of the children, and none of the ranch employees, were seriously frightened, but some of the parents were nervous; and there still was the prospect of panicking the horses to consider. When Atomic Scalp was ready to leave-- he had taken up skateboarding, having figured out how to use flame blasts from his hands to propel himself and the skateboard forward-- Greg walked back to the house and told everyone:

"Y'all can see that Scalpie's for sure a good guy now. He did in fact have in mind not spookin' the horses. He'll be back tomorrow. I told him I expect a visit from Jasper an' Stella then; and like I told some of you, Winged Virtue can palaver with ordinary horses. Winged Virtue can convince my stock that Scalpie won't hurt them. When that's done, Scalpie can come right into the paddock an' jaw some with all of us."

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

The next day, the newlyweds Gleaming Knight and Stellar Sapphire arrived two hours before Martin "Atomic Scalp" Alpert was expected to return. Within bounds of propriety, every male human being present mightily admired Stella, while the females equally admired Sir Jasper. Taffy ran a video camera to record all of the many-sided conversations.

Stella related her own conversion experience; Jasper spoke about all the differences between the Arthurian Britain of Urth and the America of Urth; Winged Virtue demonstrated his complete understanding of everything that was said to him; and Greg offered comments to the camera on all of the proceedings. Child and adolescent guests brought up a wide variety of their own questions. Then, by prior plan, Stella took the lead and spoke about how Atomic Scalp had expressed support for her conversion within ten minutes of it happening.

When Scalpie returned, everyone was primed for his visit. Even the horses were sufficiently calm in his presence, thanks to the influence of Winged Virtue. Some credit also belonged to Vigilant Cowboy, who had spent the early morning chatting with kids who had stayed overnight on the ranch. No one present was more emotionally moved than Scalpie himself was, with everyone welcoming him and even posing with him for photographs.

The reformed monstrosity did not say a word about wishing someday to find love, and his three Justified League comrades knew not to bring it up either. But Scalpie still enjoyed a huge morale boost that day, just from being welcomed and accepted among normal people.
 
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Somewhere off the beaten path of story-realities, in a version of early-19th-century France, an unfortunate young single mother was about to lose her job because an evil manager had lied about her to the owner. But in this timeline, the factory owner-- a well-meaning man, just not infallible-- took the time to investigate the incident carefully.

Accordingly, Jean Valjean fired the evil manager instead. Not only did Fantine avoid fatal illness by this turn of events, but Valjean married her a week later, so they raised Cosette together. Inspector Javert was so moved by this happy ending, that he quit trying to put Valjean back in prison.

About fifteen years later, during the 1832 uprising in Paris, the tragic heroine Eponine DID NOT die on the barricade.... because no less a person than Zorro galloped into the middle of the action, scattering and intimidating the French solders so effectively that Enjolras was able to pull off a successful evacuation of the untenable position. The boy Gavroche also survived.

Marius never even met Cosette, because she was living elsewhere with her mother and Jean Valjean. So, with Eponine alive and well, Marius married her, and they lived happily ever after.
 
Change of scene

During the first decade of broadcast television on Original Earth, network heads had adamantly insisted that husbands and wives must never come within six feet of each other when going to sleep. Generations later, the media productions which radiate into story-worlds retained at least one taboo that seldom was violated. NOBODY MUST GO TO THE TOILET.

Even by the time when Peter Jackson adapted "Lord of the Rings" into movies, Hobbits, Dwarves and Elves were still forbidden to go potty.

But in his last shipboard sleeptime before approaching the Sorghum System, Slick "Dark Headgear" Mudpackis wetted his bunk. This was a situation he could cope with by The Fuss. His new Fuss ring generated enough energy, not merely to dry the sheets, but to annihilate every molecule of uric acid. Once his accident was erased-- though he still wished he had his old helmet to hide his expression-- he joined the on-watch crewmen to bring the news.

"Spacers, I've received a psychic message. An other-dimensional entity called Kuth-Hula-Hoop communicated with me. Up-side forces were closing in on Expansive Asteroid Base, and got there ahead of us. Only Kuth-Hula-Hoop's intervention prevented Mopey-One and Moose from arresting Zoot Booter's entire gang. So our friends are now reassigned to a different front in the war against icky goodness, under the entity's leadership; they can still uphold the down-side cause, but it won't be with us."

"Did this being offer any suggestions to us?" asked Krayzee Fireflaw, from where she sat in the pilot's seat.

"Yes. There's a human-settled world outside of our sub-universe, where technology is far below our level, but where skills resembling down-side Fuss activity are abundant. Kuth-Hula-Hoop has personally manifested there several times over the centuries. People there are smart enough, talented enough, to be worth recruiting for our side, but not so advanced that we would have too much difficulty fighting our way into the clear if things went against us. The planet is called Punksteema."

"Did the creature tell you how to FIND Punksteema?"

"Yes, it inserted navigational coordinates in my mind. It also offered me an option. Our course to Punksteema will take us past a human-colonized world called Freesoil. When we pass near there, Kuth-Hula-Hoop says to use my own judgment about whether we would benefit by intervening in events there. Then if we think we should stay on Freesoil, the other-dimensional entity will find other surrogates to destroy goodness on Punksteema."

"Did it express any opinion about whether you could cultivate Fuss-power potential among people there?"

"Yes, it said I would have a good chance of identifying people whom I could train as my pattycake-awans."

"Then let's get going, my lord," said Perry Kusshun.

One of the quieter members of the crew, a woman called Lylah Doxum, now spoke up: "Lord Headgear, wouldn't it make sense, while we're enroute for the new destination, if you test whether each of us already with you has potential to use The Fuss?"

Slick had in fact forgotten to think of this. Lacking his helmet now, he had to bear in mind how his facial expressions would look to his underlings. Accordingly, he now assumed an expresson of serene wisdom. "Congratulations, Lylah! You have just passed my secret test. You were the first to make that suggestion, so you shall be the first pupil I begin teaching."

Unnoticed by the rest of the crew, Krayzee shot a jealous dirty look at Lylah.
 
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Punksteema was a crazy world indeed. If Almighty God, here present in the manifestation "AsaLion," had been capable of being baffled, He would have been baffled by this place. The fully-human residents of the planet had knowledge of Original Earth history; they even possessed books and music written by Original Earth authors and composers, running up to around the year 1890. Moreover, individuals bore names which were unmistakably rooted in Original Earth languages and cultures: Ricardo, Jennifer, Wu-Sung, Fyodor, Nokulunga, David, Sarah, Tamiko, Benjamin, Heinrich, Tecumseh, Louise, and so on. Punksteema's own history did not at all follow Original Earth's history; nobody on Punksteema had ever visited any clear, direct version of Earth; nor had anybody from a true version of Earth had ever come to Punksteema. And no Punksteemian ever asked how it was that they HAD elements of Earth culture, yet had no record of migrating FROM Earth.

In short, Punksteema was an exact embodiment of the fantasies written by authors who don't care the least bit about their story settings making any sense. Fantasies written for a readership which never took any pains to learn either history or logic.

The planet certainly differed geographically from any Earth. It rotated faster than Earth; days here were only 22 hours long. The greater centrifugal force exerted an outward push upon Punksteema's ocean; the equatorial belt, extending over a hundred miles north and south of the actual equator, was all water with no exposed land surface.

There were only two genuine continents, each quite large, but there were also many sizeable islands, a few of these being larger than Earth's Ireland. Each continent contained one of Punksteema's polar zones, and reached out southward or northward in twists and curves. Out-thrust peninsulas of each continent formed gulfs and bays; these, in the planet's ancient era, had afforded plentiful opportunity for early peoples to build experience with sailing ships, before anybody tried crossing the Equatorial Ocean from one continent to the other. The most-often-used names for these continents were Arcondoyla for the northern one, and Wellvernia for the southern.

In the spirit of no-logic fantasy writing, the readers of this epic are encouraged NOT to ask how completely separate continents, which could not contact each other until AFTER people had gained some technology, both hosted the human race and both developed civilization before the respective populations mingled in either direction.

One extraordinary attribute of the planet had also contributed to the development of practical sciences. Its breathable atmosphere extended farther out than a planet's atmosphere should be able to, because fantasy. Punksteema's moon (which had multiple names, depending on whom you spoke to) was smaller than Earth's moon, but still significant in mass.... and it orbited WITHIN Punksteema's atmosphere. In fact, it was close enough that its own gravity kept a breathable concentration of air around itself, without jeopardizing life on the planet. It circled its primary far faster than Luna circles Earth; and-- for the sake of narrative-- this orbital velocity was enough to prevent the moon from falling down onto the planet. There still were proximity effects: any part of the planetary surface in the tropical or temperate zones experienced brief solar eclipses about every three days, and both air and water were drawn to follow the moon as it passed.

Around the equatorial belt, wind and current alike always moved from west to east, without variation. Before the advent of engine-driven ships, any vessel crossing between continents would have to accept being driven many miles eastward before it could finish its crossing. Direct westward movement along the Equatorial Ocean had only been possible in the continental-shelf waters close to either landmass. Even since the advent of steam power, ship captains needing to sail west on the ocean had found it more energy-economical to use coastal sea lanes.

And then, within the sixty years preceding this narrative, AIRSHIPS had appeared on the scene-- created independently on both Arcondoyla and Wellvernia. After several disastrous failures (which had occurred mostly because the explorers neglected to take into account the alteration of gravity attendant upon approaching the moon), mankind had succeeded in flying close enough to Punksteema's moon to study its surface in detail. Hence another difference from the history of any Earth: Punksteemians had achieved what amounted to interplanetary travel, without having ships that could operate in vacuum.

Now, against the background of this paradoxical world, a gunslinger walked the land.

In The Ominous Lands, a sparsely-populated temperate-zone region of the southern continent Wellvernia, dressed like a duster-coated Original Earth cowboy but currently lacking a horse, Ronald of Goliad pursued his quest. He looked just like the Original Earth movie actor Idris Elba, and he had a mission.

As far as he himself knew, Ronald was the last survivor of an ancient order of knights-- who had called themselves "knights" because they got started long before firearms had been invented on Punksteema-- known as the Towermen, because their founder Sir Edgar Pallendin had been an expert at building fortifications. A female counterpart fellowship, calling itself Smoke Maidens, had arisen on the northern continent; and once, early in their history, many Smoke Maidens had come south to help in a great battle against evil creatures. Monuments remained today to that event. Firearms had largely made the Smoke Maidens possible.

Before gunpowder, all Towermen had trained in archery, because their planet was home to many creatures which you didn't really want to fight at close quarters.

Including the rat-like beast, large as a small bear, which had been waiting in the branches of a tall tree up ahead. Seeing that Ronald was not going to walk directly under it, the furry nightmare dropped to the ground and charged.
 
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In one movement, Ronald snatched the already-cocked heavy crossbow, or arbalest, off his back and brought it to the ready. He possessed four quarrels for this weapon; back in his native realm of Goliad, no one needed to be told that in this context, the word "quarrel" meant the type of arrow shot by crossbows. Ronald owned four arrows for his crossbow, all sturdy enough to be used scores of times without breaking.

When the trigger freed the quarrel to fly, it flew into the doomrat's throat, hardly even slowing in the dense flesh, and came out alongside the spinal column near the tail, drenched in heart-blood, heaving the entire beast eight or ten paces backwards. From the nearest bush-grown area came sounds which suggested another such beast fleeing in a hurry, rather than face the gunslinger.

Before his attacker gasped its final gasp, Ronald had the arbalest braced nose-down on the ground, so he could crank the bowstring winch to reload. This powerful, durable weapon took half a minute to crank up, and this was for a strong man like Ronald. The two .44 magnum revolvers which marked him as a gunslinger had only their present loads, plus one change-out cylinder each to reload. Whenever he was short of bullets without the means to replace them quickly, he relied on the reusable arrows as much as possible. Roland's last-resort weapons, doubling as tools for various purposes, were a hand axe and a long poniard.

Because the Bible existed on Punksteema despite no one seeming to know how it had come to be here, the gunslinger called his arrows "The Four Quarrels of the Apocalypse." This idea had occurred to him one day after he killed an aggressive spine-lizard by shooting it through the stomach. Extracting the particular quarrel he had shot to slay the reptile, he had named it Famine. The name "Plague" had later gone to the quarrel which slew a bandit chief who had been poisoning people's wells. The other two names, War and Death, he had simply bestowed on the remaining quarrels without waiting for distinct incidents.

Once his arbalest was ready again in case of new threats, Roland brought two small flasks out of a pouch and filled them with blood from his kill. Doomrats were not wholesome to eat; but the blood of ANY unnatural monster slain by a noble Towerman had uses in spells of good magic, to protect innocent people against evil. And evil was abundant in the wilderness regions of the southern continent.

Truth to tell, Arcondoyla was no less well-supplied with wickedness; but on the northern continent, evil was far more abundant in the cities.

It was less for the value of accurate gunfire, than for the paladin's aura which hung about the Towermen and made monsters hesitate, that Ronald of Goliad wished greatly for more gunslinger-knights to be raised up. This, in fact, was the basis of his mission.

Over the centuries-long history of the noble order founded by Edgar Pallendin, some thirty-five or forty pilgrims from nations on Arcondoyla had crossed the Equatorial Ocean to Wellvernia, petitioning for admission to the gunslingers' order. All men, these, and most had been accepted. Numerous women, starting midway into the planet's industrial revolution, had requested membership in the Towermen. The Towermen wanted to maintain an all-male organization; and they could truthfully point out to the female petitioners that all-FEMALE organizations existed on both continents. Sir Henry Remington Mossberg, a previous Grand Master of the Towermen, had achieved an accommodation which satisfied everyone: female shooters would organize their own fellowship, which would be officially recognized and assisted materially by the Towermen, and the two organizations would share information and magical resources. In contrast with the Towermen, the female organization was to be led by a committee.

The Smoke Maidens, as they called themselves, had never grown as numerous as the Towermen at their apex. Note that this leaves out many WIVES OF Towermen, who were not technically gunslingers but who were never prevented from packing heat if they wanted to. Actual Smoke Maidens who married Towermen retained their Smoke Maiden membership. The number of enrolled Smoke Maidens had remained small because, among women who could shoot AND who preferred adventure over a domestic life, many preferred to stay completely separate from the Towermen. In the eyes of these less male-friendly women, the Towermen were horrible because, although ungrudgingly recognizing the frequent superiority of women in long-range marksmanship, they expected women also to recognize the equally-true average superiority of men in strength and stamina-- qualities always needed in anything like a real war.

A few years before Ronald's birth, five Towermen, and five women who didn't belong to the Smoke Maidens, had competed in a twelve-mile footrace, each contestant carrying a pack weighing one-eighth of his or her body weight. The slowest of the five men had crossed the finish line half an hour ahead of the fastest woman. The actual Smoke Maidens had been untroubled by this outcome, but the embarrassed female competitors had loudly and falsely accused the Towermen of resorting to sorcery to win.

Except for three who had been relatives of competitors in the race, no Smoke Maidens had become estranged from the Towermen over this demonstration of biological reality. But later, they forsook the southern continent for an unrelated reason: they believed that, on the whole, they would be more effective combating evil in cities than in rural and wilderness areas. The nations of Arcondoyla had more good-sized cities than Wellvernia had, because-- as had always been the case with real-world Japan-- much of the northern continent's land area was mountainous, compelllng populations to cluster in densely-housed communities, in order to preserve arable real estate for farming. So the Smoke Maidens had become distinctly urban-steampunk heroines.

All well and good for the northern continent. But within the last two years (longer than Earth-years), evil forces had been stepping up their activity on the southern continent; and they had been organized, purposely going after those heroes who could best oppose them. Which was why Ronald appeared to be the last of the Towermen; and this was the cause of his mission.

Ronald the gunslinger was looking for a way to take ship across the Equatorial Ocean and ask the Smoke Maidens for assistance. He had never given them any cause to dislike him; but he needed to be as inconspicuous as possible. Steampunky underwater telegraph cables, laid between the continents at three points around the circumference of Punksteema, had been in service for more than five years now; but a plotline-convenient seer had warned Ronald that enemies would be watching all Wellvernian telegraph stations which could communicate with the transoceanic lines. They would also be spying on airship terminals.

Therefore, the gunslinger was in The Ominous Lands-- looking for a LOW-technology way to cross the ocean. And, at the same time, doing what he could to weaken evil forces in this wilderness, lest the scattered people, unable to band together quickly for mutual armed self-defense, should be wiped out while there were no gunslingers to protect them.
 
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"Sing another gambler song!" exclaimed a dark-skinned lady wearing a stovepipe hat. Zoralee Jeralo, a sturdy but shapely woman in her late twenties, with a short cutlass sheathed at her side and several derringer-equivalent pistols hidden about her person, was addressing a mandolin-playing blonde woman several years younger: Judy Lightheart, currently one of the most popular entertainers performing on riverboats-- or, as now, in the ports which serviced all riverine craft. The latest eclipse of the sun was in progress, and many travelers waiting for daylight to return preferred to do their waiting where there was entertainment.

Cargo ship sailors, fishermen, and stevedores, filling every table at Creekport's leading tavern, called The Wayward Otter, had not finished applauding Judy's previous number before she resumed singing. Only later would two of these rivermen, secretly informants for Zoralee, meet with her separately to pass along their latest news. The cutlass-wearing lady was a this-planet counterpart of a private investigator, and Judy was also among her informants. Although telegrams, telephones in a few places, railroads and airships existed on Punksteema, much of the world's news, like much of its merchandise, still traveled by water for all or part of a journey.

The two continents of this not-really-Earth both having sizable polar icecaps in their interiors meant that there was always water to feed the rivers. As a result, every landlocked nation on either continent still had access to the sea by way of navigable rivers.... although, in some cases, the crucial river passed through another country which required passage tolls from foreign river vessels.

At a location almost exactly opposite to The Ominous Lands of Wellvernia-- which is to say, precisely opposite in east-west terms, and with a temperate northern latitude similar to the temperate southern latitude of The Ominous Lands-- lay the Republic of Gromstark. Its land area was like Original Earth's Montana, if you rotated Montana to line up north-to-south. Gromstark was not among the top seven Punksteemian countries for steampunkological industrial advancement (only two of the Big Seven being on the southern continent), but it had always been a prosperous nation.

Thanks to river trade.

Located due north of one of Arcondoyla's major south-pointing peninsulas, though not having a seacoast, Gromstark boasted three wide and relatively straight rivers: one flowing directly south to empty itself at the far tip of the neighboring peninsula, and one river each for the two adjoining bays. No fewer than five modest-sized neighboring nations, more truly landlocked than Gromstark was, were home to smaller navigable rivers which were tributaries of rivers in Gromstark; and a sixth neighbor, lying due north, contained the headwater springs of Gromstark's own central river. These half-dozen countries, having other neighbors less friendly than the Republic, had for many centuries relied on Gromstark to let them reach the sea.

Dating back long before the steampunk industrial revolution, dating back to when Gromstark had been a monarchy, the Gromstarkers had cultivated good relations by being very lenient about waterway tolls. This policy had always paid off. By mutual support and cooperation, the seven allies had been able to offset any industrial and scientific advantages enjoyed by hostile regimes. It didn't hurt that, after departing the southern continent many years ago, many of the Smoke Maidens had settled in Gromstark and its friendly neighboring countries. Zoralee and her brother Billyboy were the children of a now-retired Smoke Maiden and the respected Gromstarker businessman she had married.

After Judy's singing set ended, Zoralee's two informants, who didn't know each other, had their successive turns briefing their employer on their latest findings. When this business was completed, the detective left The Wayward Otter by a back door. Then she called softly: "Billyboy?"

What approached in reply to her call was a bulky, long-fanged doomrat, nearly identical to the one that Ronald of Goliad had recently slain. Only its eyes revealed the human personality still surviving inside the hairy, bad-smelling body.

Billyboy had been changed into this creature ten months ago, by a warlock who was the cousin of a merchant who was a competitor to Zoralee and Billyboy's father. The competitor had demanded a hefty ransom for the young man to be changed back; the father had ruined himself paying the price; and then the competitor had reneged on the deal, fleeing over the border to escape retribution from the law. The scoundrel had not gone completely unpunished; the Republic of Gromstark had passed a resolution that no boat, wagon or cargo belonging to him would ever be permitted to use Gromstarker waterways or land routes. But the Jeralo family still was living in comparative poverty.

Then Zoralee had made the mistake of believing that hunting down and executing the warlock would remove the spell from Billyboy. No such luck; and now, the siblings needed always to be on guard against threats from other evil magic-users, though these were mercifully fewer in number on the northern continent than on the southern.

But Zoralee's brother had always been one to make lemonade from lemons. Unable to speak now, but able to understand speech and able to write replies if he had writing materials he could manipulate, he had begun finding ways to assist Big Sister in her private eye career. It was up to them to restore their family fortunes.

Dutiful daughter and dutiful son were doing well; and Judy Lightheart, once apprised of what had befallen her sweetheart Billyboy, had vowed that she would wait as long as it took for him to become human once more, so they could be married. Billyboy for his part had promised her that, if eventually they lost hope of a cure, he would not hold it against her if she found a new man.

Deeply touched by the mutual and courageous love between her brother and her should-have-been sister-in-law, Zoralee, busy with work though she was, poignantly longed to know such a love herself. Oh, I don't know, maybe a manly man journeying far on a sacred mission, a man dressed like a cowboy and looking like Idris Elba, whom I could help to achieve his goal?
 
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Commence more changes of scene

On the same Earth where Skinny Leopard was now promoting true love and clean friendships, this Earth's version of Joan Jett had been born decades later than the original Joan Jett; but she somehow had still managed to record the same identical song "I Hate Myself For Loving You," because fantasy. This Joan Jett's personal life had been terribly unhappy: so much so, that she could not allow herself to believe that the true-love campaign would ever amount to anything.

But she had no idea that various media appearances of hers, and even some of her private communications, were being monitored from outer space.

This Joan Jett had a country house.... and one evening, this house received visitors.

A compact starship landed on her long driveway, and a handsome gentleman stepped out of it just as Joan emerged from her house. Right behind him came something like a walking tree. Before either of the two humans could say anything, the tree-creature exclaimed, "I am Square Root!"

The human visitor looked as if it were commonplace to him to hear his tree-friend speak like that. He now uttered his own greeting: "Excuse me, Miss Jett; you are this planet's Joan Jett, aren't you?"

The lovely singer lifted a lovely eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you mean about 'this planet;' I'm the only Joan Jett I know of."

He smiled. "We can go into that later. My name is Quill Peterson; I'm nicknamed Star Squire. I know that you're tired of men playing with your feelings; and guess what? I'm tired of women with uncommon strength using me as a punching bag. I really love your music, and I believe I understand your personal frustrations. Could we talk?"

Joan somehow anticipated that the walking tree would again interject: "I am Square Root!" Once it had done so, she told Quill Peterson, "Yes, I'd be delighted to get to know you! A man from space CAN'T be any worse than a lot of Earthmen I've known."

Five days later, Quill and Joan stood before a galactic pastor, got married, and lived happily ever after.
 
On the planet with the four-armed natives, the anime villainess Mugwumpa was teaching her new subjects how to alloy copper with tin to make bronze. Now her people would be able to manufacture tools effective enough to make something like real industry possible.

And she was increasingly THINKING OF the natives as-- her people. Since her initial execution of recognized criminals, she had not killed even one of the natives, nor turned any into zombies.

Then, one day, a modest-sized but sophisticated spacecraft landed within fifty feet of the village which had become the monster's home base. Her native subjects babbled and chattered, looking to their self-professed deity for cues.

Out of the ship came three handsome, fit-looking humans. First to emerge was a fortyish-looking man bedecked with armor and weapons. Coming up on his left side was a shapely, athletic young woman, with a sword at her hip and a face which clearly resembled the older man's face as a daughter might resemble her father. Coming up alongside the older man on the right was a handsome and very muscular young man with yellow hair, also armed with a sword. Behind them came what seemed like a green-furred jaguar.

Mugwumpa hesitated to take action: because the woman and her apparent father both carried some kind of guns which looked as if they would work against her, because the green feline looked dangerous, and-- because, if a fight broke out, some of HER people would get hurt. She realized that she didn't want any of them to get hurt.

"Who are you, strangers?" Mugwumpa asked, in precisely the way a perfectly normal person would address newcomers.

The older man lifted a device like a Star Trek tricorder, held it out toward Mugwumpa, drew it back, looked at it.... and then spoke:

"I am Weapons-Man. This is my daughter Teerifica; and with us is Prince Andy of Alwaysurnia, son of King Rentakar and Queen Maldeva. YOU, large creature, have just been scanned by my Plotline-Convenient Alignment Reader. My inventions always work, and this invention reveals that you have devoted your entire life to evil, until recently. Over the centuries of your life, you have done great harm to numerous inhabitated worlds; and some of this harm was inflicted on a version of Planet Earth, barely one Alwaysurnian month ago.

"But my device also reveals a fact which you yourself might not understand. The natives of this planet, unknown even to themselves, share a special collective power of their own. Although some of them do turn to evil, the great majority of them can be considered Lawful Good-- like Andy, my daughter, and myself. Ever since you first arrived here, their spiritual influence has been transforming you. Without realizing what was happening to you, you have been changing into a Lawful Good being yourself."

Mugwumpa's eyes went wide. "Yes! I do feel it now! I thought I was elevating my people, but it's been THEY who were cleansing and curing ME." She temporarily turned away from the strangers, to speak to her four-armed followers. "My people! I am forced to confess to you that in the past I have done great evil, but now I want with all of my heart to make amends for my crimes. To begin with, I confess that I am NOT a deity, only a very powerful flesh-and-blood being. I call upon you to rebuild the tribal authority structure you had before I came. I will no longer command you, but I can still advise you."

Turning back to the new arrivals: "Noble strangers, can YOU help my people to better themselves?"

Teerifica smiled. "As we will explain, we ourselves are in need of a new home base. And we certainly can be VERY helpful to this world. Right, Father?"

"Indeed so," replied Weapons-Man, then looked to his right. "Prince Andy, I think the time for secrecy is past. I suggest that you show them."

"Right," said the blond-haired man. Drawing his own sword, Andy roared, "By the power of Greyhair, I have reclaimed the power!!" Lightning flashed, and not only Prince Andy, but also the green cat, grew visibly larger.

" He's also known as Mighty Male," Teerifica told the onlookers.

Mugwumpa nodded. "I think I catch the drift. May I ask exactly why you left your own world?"

"We won't hide it," Mighty Male answered. "Our homeworld of Alwaysurnia was recently taken over by a great evil, whose workings even The Sorcery Lass doesn't understand."

The large green cat, revealing himself to be able to talk, interjected: "I'm called Battery-Cat. Sorcery Lass was a leader on our world; it was she who gave me the gift of speech. We don't know yet what became of her, but her absence has made things much easier for the mysterious evildoers."

Teerifica poked a thumb toward the green beast. "Yeah, what Battery-Cat said."

"To the best of our knowledge," Mighty Male continued, "Weapons-Man's cloaking technology will have prevented our enemies from knowing where we went. We wouldn't have landed here if we thought we might bring danger upon your people."

Mugwumpa struggled against impatience. "Can you tell us who and what your enemies ARE?"

"They're sneaky and subtle, I can tell you that much, with magical powers," rumbled Weapons-Man. "They've set out to REDEFINE everything that Alwaysurnia and Castle Greyhair ever stood for. They created an illusion that Mighty Male here was dead. Worse, they brought in a horrid, ugly, nasty-mannered, petulant woman who pretends to BE my daughter Teerifica."

Mugwumpa looked at her people again. "My people, I believe it will be well to house these visitors among us. But YOU have the right to be heard in this matter."

Almost a hundred of the natives were present, and every adult among them expressed willingess to welcome the Alwaysurnians. Mugwumpa faced the newcomers again.

"We have much to talk about, space voyagers, and much deliberation to undertake. You do find our environment liveable, do you not?"

"We do," replied Weapons-Man. "Instruments confirm that foods here will be nourishing to us, and so on."

"Perhaps best of all," Teerifica observed, "this reverse-corruption power of your people might prove to be our greatest defense against evil invasions."

Mighty Male changed back into the less-brawny Prince Andy. "Let's begin getting to know each other."
 
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On Planet Waterpark, an island with no permanent human habitation, far from the capital island and outside the high-risk hurricane zones, had been designated as a project site for attempts to build non-Jalapeno-dependent starships. A physicist named Felicia Baenboox, one of the officials to whom Lady Jazzica had spoken during her hasty visit, was touring the plots of ground where buildings were being raised for the coming work. Accompanying her was Alec Hurdygurdy, a veteran Ashtrayides warrior who had been with Duke Neato and Muddy-Drip in former adventures on Srirachiss. After the Calamari Empire was brought low, Alec had been sent back to the Ashtrayides homeworld, to help maintain stability there much as Chief Sleevecard was doing on Srirachiss.

"Do you think there's ANY risk of spies and saboteurs on this island, when we get to actually building ships?" asked Felicia.

"Not likely. The biggest single advantage of House Ashtrayides has always been the loyalty the ducal family could inspire. On top of that, here on homeworld, the small total dry-land area leaves few places for space-dropped infiltrators to descend."

Felicia winced. "Funny that you mention planetfalls, and the sea-land ratio. I've been thinking about the subject of starships which land on a planet, vice parking in orbit. All of our people who've relocated to Srirachiss, with not so much as an open-air lake there, have grown conditioned to assume that landing ON SOLID GROUND is the only way a spacecraft can descend onto a planet."

She gestured toward the ocean. "But on Waterpark, we have ALL OF THAT to anchor our ships on."

Alec chuckled. "You're right. People do get into mental ruts! Yes, it is possible for an airtight ship to set down on water, and float there. Bonus benefit, seawater cools the hull after a ship's re-entry. The issue of shipbuilding security gets bad only if potential adversaries get the idea of water-berthed spacecraft."

"And if enemies do reckon with possible water-berthing of starships here," Felicia asked, "what will your security posture be?"

"My security posture now IS to assume there's a threat of water-descent infiltration."

"And what happens to your manpower allocation?"

"What happens is that I'll think outside the box, just as you're thinking outside the box. Lady Jazzica, Trala-Lalia, Bunkem, Sleevecard and I have a database of warriors on OTHER planets who bear allegiance to the Ashtrayides. Naughtygators haven't gone so far yet as to boycott THOSE worlds. I'll import some of the pro-Ashtrayides warriors to Waterpark, and assign them to security duties in the very places where I would be expected to station only native-born Waterparkers. Then all Waterparker troops can be detailed specifically to safeguard the waterborne shipbuilding operations."

"I'm impressed," said Felicia. "You do think flexibly."

Alec shrugged. "What with being left out of the story action up to now, I have to be allowed to do SOMETHING distinctive."
 
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JUMPING BACKWARD IN TIME JUST A BIT---

When Sky Lioness landed in Seoul, Korea (this being before The Brickhawks, Captain Sha-Na-Na and The Javelin fought Red Slaughter, Lady Blast and a poaching gang) Conn Johnstantine and the blank-faced sleuth The Inquiry were waiting for her. Inquiry was the first to speak. He was the one with the superpower of finding out things.

"Lioness, here's the latest. Hamhanda Blubber was taken to the United States Embassy soon after the Screendoormammu incident. But less than an hour after Conn asked you to join us here, an unmarked vertical-takeoff jet carried her out of the country. My finding-things-out power ascertained that she was being brought to Area 42 in Nevada." Inquiry then glanced at Conn Johnstantine, who added:

"Working from Inquiry's finding, I divined that the Korean government knows something's up; they're highly annoyed about being told so little of what Miss Blubber wanted to accomplish. I spoke to their leaders, and offered something to placate them: enlisting an impartial non-American citizen to help examine the scene of the Starhatch manifestation. They were pleased with my offer, but further stipulated that Korea's one currently-active superhero join us."

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

The superhero Kimchee Man had the power to make air unbreathable for anyone but himself inside a ten-foot radius. He also had the power to burn flesh with a touch, and temporarily to blind any normal person's eyes up to twenty feet away. He didn't contribute much to the renewed forensic examination of the place where Miss Blubber had tried to summon a demon king.... but he was flawless at preserving site security. Even fellow Koreans who ate kimchee nearly every day didn't want to come near him when his powers were working.

The magical superheroes determined to their satisfaction that no active or dormant effect of magical evil now lingered where the Starhatch had been. It followed that Hamhanda Blubber herself must be the carrier of delayed-action demonic activity, if there was any. So to America the heroes must go next.

An ordinary airline would serve the purpose. And Kimchee Man, coming along, would make sure not to poison the air inside the plane.
 
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ANOTHER SUMMARY, PRETTY FULL NOW

Fooldemall, the Lazytaxie Face Twister who is friendly to Dark Headgear, still is trying to undermine the government on Princess Vespa's home planet, posing as the Chimpanzian diplomat Proconsul (whom he secretly murdered). Encountering a Chimpanzian ape-woman who knows Proconsul, Fooldemall works on her to make her an unwitting accomplice in his plot.

Mopey-One Kanoli joins Moose Windchime at Lackdough Carribiyan's Cloud Suburb Casino in the Sorghum System. Mopey-One and the ex-bad-girl Melodica listen to Master Moose performing a blues song which actually was written by Copperfox. The demon Kuth-Hula-Hoop does not attempt another attack on Cloud Suburb; instead, it contacts Dark Headgear's gang, counseling them to travel to a world not yet shown in the story, and make themselves important there.

The "Space: 1999" parody, having already been joined by a female "Green Flashlight," has acquired a shape-changing woman. She was arbitrarily pulled out of a hat for the actual TV series, and so I also pull her out of a hat for my parody. (Green Flashlight Lucy Luminous, a native of the Earth-version which has lots of Asian superheroes, never did catch the fleeing monster Mugwumpa.)

On "Terra," the Earth-variant where versions of Winter Soldier and Falcon married reformed versions of Harpy Quinn and Poison Ivy, I introduce a version of the classic DC heroes The Blackhawks. Patrolling West Africa in the absence of Sky Lioness, they join up with other heroes to battle a large poacher gang which is allied with super-villains. The good guys win only a partial victory; The "Brickhawks" lose their aircraft, and one escaping super-villain hands these over to terrorists.

My version of Princess Irulan from the Dune books pays a friendly visit to Srirachiss, offering to support Lady Jazzica's efforts at acquiring or building starships not dependent on the Naughtygators. This leads to the startup of a shipbuilding project on Waterpark, the ancestral world of House Ashtrayides. Over and above this, "Princess Eerilake" brings along Professor Jean Yuss-- who, at the very start of this parody-novel, overthrew the administration of Spacebull's evil ruler Bob Snooze. Taking an element from the actual movie "Spaceballs," Jean Yuss is able to show the Srirachian leaders much of what has gone on elsewhere during my story-- especially what Groan Starr and Princess Vixen have been doing.

On "Urth," the Earth-variant which has a version of the Justice League, Adam and Proxima Straightup-- the couple who arrived from Planet Senphatori-- are helping the world's nations to design and build spaceships which can use the Senphatorian Tachyon Loop technology to reach other star systems. At the same time, my version of the DC villain Atomic Skull, previously converted to the side of good, is trying to figure out how to act more human; Vigilant Cowboy and Gleaming Knight are encouraging him in this.

Reflecting the recent real-world news of Hollywood intentionally ruining "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe," I depict my versions of He-Man, Teela, Man-at-Arms and Battle-Cat escaping the downfall of their world, hoping eventually to enlist help to liberate it. Where they end up is on the same planet which has become a refuge for the anime villainess "Mugwumpa," whom I earlier depicted as attacking China on the anime-themed Earth. But "Mighty Male" and company don't have to fight Mugwumpa, because SHE has been converted to goodness by the natives of this planet.

Several chapters are devoted to introducing Punksteema, the planet which Kuth-Hula-Hoop wants Dark Headgear to invade. Punksteema is the precise model of a fantasy world which has NO traceable ties to the real planet Earth, and yet which is full of people whose names are absolutely of EARTHLY origin. All sorts of writers, like Terry Goodkind with his "Seeker" novels, have been guilty of this literary cheating, so I've gotten around to copycatting the same device. I have introduced two main characters (who do not yet know each other) for my steampunk world. One, purely made up, is a standard tough chick named Zoralee; the other is Ronald of Goliad, a blatant parody of Stephen King's gunslinger hero in the "Dark Tower" series.

FORGOT TO ADD: I'm still hoping to hear from readers (indeed, I'm hoping to HAVE readers). Because I believe in true love, and because I'm dismayed to see true love scoffed at in today's real world, I'm determined to continue depicting numerous characters as FINDING true love. In this connection, I have solicited reader opinions on whether my version of Hera from "Star Wars Rebels" should get together with my version of Zack Allen from "Babylon Five." Then I asked for opinions on whether my version of Marvel's Thor should marry my version of Lady Sif; truth be told, it will take a lot of convincing for me to do ANY OTHERWISE than bring those two together. Now I add "Atomic Scalp;" I want him to be able to be human enough that he could marry a woman. Assuming he can render himself marriageable, who would be a suitable bride for him?
 
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We now return to The Banjolorian!

With his ship refueled and reprovisioned, Dim Jargon had said all his farewells on the planet Toofah-Roff. An up-side Fuss adept named Zubdookree, a female of a bird-like race, had come by Master Yoga-Rug's request, leading a regiment of crack solders from the Republic of Lots of Worlds, equipped with planetary-defense weapons. Factoring in the Fuss powers of many Toofah-Roffians, Yoga-Rug's native world would henceforth be well defended in case of new incursions by villains using Chipotli battle-droids.

Dim Jargon the Banjolorian thus was free to find a new path in life. Navigational data for the anime-themed world which Yoga-Rug had recently contacted was downloaded into his ship's compute of my people have been such that. The artificial intelligence was good enough that Dim could safely sleep as much of the time as he needed to.

On his third day in deep space, Dim was roused from sleep by a phenomenal female voice. This voice not only was beautiful; it WAS BEAUTY in the form of audible speech.

"Bounty Hunter Dim Jargon, friend of the great Yoga-Rug, and benefactor of the up-and-coming Gross-Goo! I am one of the immortal Swimmers in Space, who safeguard one version of the valuable planet Earth. I am commonly called Swimmer Pluto, and I have communicated across the cosmos with your friend Yoga-Rug. From him, I know that you are one whom I can gladly welcome into this solar system. But I invite you to say, in your own words, what you desire to find on my adopted version of Earth."

Dim considered the question for a minute, then replied: "A contradiction, maybe. For all of my life as a Banjolorian, war and the hunt have hung foremost in my awareness. The circumstances of my people have always been such that we could easily find-- in fact, we could barely avoid finding-- situations in which we had moral justification for fighting. But my recent experiences of being with younglings have broadened my outlook on life. I still can't easily conceive of a life WITHOUT battles of some kind; but now I can easily welcome the idea of a life containing something BESIDES conflict."

"There were many worse answers you could have given me, Dim Jargon. I will communicate with some Earthlings whom you would benefit by knowing, let them know who you are. Then, being able to live in vacuum and fly through space without a ship, I will meet you in space as you draw near my solar system."

"Swimmer Pluto, I'm grateful for your welcoming attitude. One thing: Master Yoga-Rug may not have mentioned to you that my people have a unique tradition. All of us in our adult lives, men and women alike, keep our helmets on whenever any other sapient being can see us. Even wives and husbands don't get in bed together until the room is dark, and they eat meals separately. I've known surgeons among our people to make an exception when a gravely injured patient needed repairs above the neck, but I don't know of any other exceptions."

Dim seemed almost to SEE Swimmer Pluto shaking her head.

"Now, that's a situation I haven't faced before, no pun intended. Even Combatalot, a warrior on my Earth who goes about in armor, will take off his helmet whenever he sees fit to do so. I'll tell people to expect this custom of yours. Expect to hear from me as you come closer to our outer planets."

"Thank you. By the way, Miss Pluto, if you are able to see me directly inside my ship right now, please DON'T TELL ME that you can. It's comfortable for me, in space alone, to be able to leave the clanky thing off."
 
One of the most admired families on the Earth Dim Jargon was traveling to, currently was meeting with the female President of China. To remind the reader, THIS China had rejected Marxism decades earlier, when its army sided with the pro-democracy demonstrators on Tienanmen Square.

President Hua Choi-La was entertaining Swimmer Moon, her husband Tuxedo Dash, and their daughter Chipmunkyusa. The first order of business in this meeting had been to ask if they knew what had become of this Earth's Green Flashlight; sadly, they knew nothing about this. President Hua thus moved on to her next subject.

"Swimmer Moon, our world has benefited immeasurably from the protection you Spacer Swimmers afford us. It is not any sign of ingratitude if I say: given what we recently went through against Mugwumpa and her zombie plague, both I and other heads of state would greatly appreciate it if you Swimmers could help humanity to produce more home-grown superheroes."

"By the strangest coincidence," replied Swimmer Moon, "we came bringing news which may relate to your understandable wish."

"There's a friendly off-worlder enroute here now," said Tuxedo Dash; and Chipmunkyusa added, "We hear that he's even kind to children."

"Madame President," Swimmer Moon continued, "you already know that there are other worlds with regular people on them The super-being who communicated with us during the recent crisis is not human, but the man who is coming toward us now is human. Like my husband, he has no super-powers but is a top expert in many skills. And the technology he possesses is at least a century ahead of this world. He wants to enjoy something like a normal human life, but can bring benefits to everyone's life by the scientific knowledge he can share."

President Hua began sending diplomatic messages to other nations, inviting them to send scientists to Beijing once the Banjolorian arrived. He attached a request that, if any other government received news of Green Flashlight Lucy's whereabouts, they would let Beijing know.

When Swimmer Moon and family departed the presidential residence, she told her husband, "You're a saint, sweetheart. You're a saint for NOT mentioning to the President how I wasted precious time twirling and chanting while you were fighting monsters."

"And you're a saint, too, Mama-san," said Chipmunkyusa, "for not including me in the blame for that."

Tuxedo Dash concluded the subject by kissing his wife and their daughter.
 
The solar system whose Earth contained a liberated China was in plain view of Dim Jargon's hyper-cameras, when he received an unexpected pleasure: a telepathic message from young Gross-Goo.

I see that you're approaching a human-inhabited world. I'm glad you'll soon be with other humans, but I hope you won't forget Great-Great-Great-Uncle Yoga-Rug, Noherra Synthmusica and me.

"I especially won't ever forget you, kid," the Banjolorian assured the green kid. "The time I spent with you made me realize for the first time ever that I might enjoy being a literal father. And on Earth, I'll have the opportunity, at least in theory."

I know you would make a fine father, if your children could get used to never seeing their Papa's face. I'm glad you allowed me a glance at your face before we parted company. If you'll take a Fuss-using kid's advice, please bend the rule enough to let your future wife see your face at least once before the wedding!

"We'll see. Meanwhile, just where are you and Noherra now?"

We're on board an orbital habitat called Bubblewrap Five, in a reality sector which contains another Earth, and this Earth is far more advanced scientifically than the one you're moving to. Almost as advanced as our own George Lucas-rooted story-reality. But every bit as irrational as anything in our own reality. There's one biped race here called the Mintcandybarri: sort of like Vulcans, only much snottier. The Mintcandybarri boast endlessly about how enlightened and spiritual and compassionate they are; but they once killed tens of thousands of Earthlings because of the fault of ONE Earthman. No one has given Noherra and me any trouble so far; but if some arrogant Mintcandybarri warrior provokes me enough, I'll see how he likes having his own fist suddenly punch him in the nose.

"Say, kid, you just reminded me of my own complaint about my armor not stopping blows from any woman! Once I'm on this new planet, I'll start inquiring about ways to improve my protection."

Glad to be of help, Uncle Dim. If The Fuss permits, you'll hear from me again one of these days.
 
As Dim Jargon's ship was cruising in-system, Swimmer Mars flew up and kept station on him. Able to project her voice across vacuum and through solid barriers, she told him, "Elder Sister Pluto has told the rest of us about her communication with you. From the little I know about you, I think that one of our Earthly heroes, called Masked Biker, would be the perfect choice as an Earth-based friend for you. Where you come from, do people ride on small, two-wheeled, unenclosed vehicles?"

"From your asking me a question, I have to assume that you can hear me too?"

"Yes, I can hear you."

"All right, Miss Mars, if what you describe is what I think it is, yes, transportation like this does exist. But on any world that my people would consider modern, the machines in question levitate a modest height above the ground and skim-fly along. The same purpose is served. So does your Masked Rider travel on a two-wheeled ground machine?"

"He does, and skillful use of his motorcycle serves as part of his combat method."

Dim nodded, not even thinking about whether or not Swimmer Mars could see him. "I can envision that. Our hovering speeders also become an element in small-scale tactics." At this point, the Banjolorian brightened up. "You know what, if I do get acquainted with your Masked Biker, maybe he can introduce me to manufacturers whom I could teach how to build my kind of one-person hovercraft. Then he could learn how to operate one."

Swimmer Mars seemed pleased by this. "Masked Biker is on a case right now, hunting down a gang of Yakuza kidnapers to whom he might very well do some violence. But I know he'll be happy to meet you when he's free."

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

With urban authorities clearing space for him, Dim Jargon set his ship down right in Tienanmen Square. On this Earth, Tienanmen Square featured a life-size sculpture in honor of the rejection of Communism in 1989. The monument portrayed a stopped army tank; a helmeted crewman was crouching on the forward exterior of the tank, extending one arm to help a civilian gentleman climb up onto the war vehicle.

Having witnessed some incidents in the war to save the Republic of Lots of Worlds from Emperor Porkandbeen, Dim had a sense of what the monument was intended to express. Any further thought about the sculpture had to be postponed, because a sturdy, gray-haired man in traditional Chinese attire was walking toward him, while men and women in modern business clothing stood in the background.

The gray-haired Chinese man said in Mandarin Chinese: "I have heard about you, spaceman. Do you have a plotline-convenient ability to speak Chinese even though you didn't even know that China existed until recently?"

Dim Jargon felt the oddest sensation, as if his own brain were being reset, as if a storyteller had just now realized that he, Dim Jargon, should be able to speak the local language because reasons.

"Yes, sir, I can speak your language. My name is Dim Jargon; and I have lived part of my life on a planet called Tantrumine."

The older man bowed. "I am Ying Cheng-Lee, a teacher of Eagle Style kung-fu. I do not hold any official government post, but many of our officials concur that you will find me a kindred spirit."

A new voice, feminine and sweet, came from behind the kung-fu master: "Father, may I now be introduced to the far-voyaging stranger?"

Master Ying looked behind him. "Of course you may, daughter. Spaceman, meet my daughter Tien-Hai."

Advancing toward the Banjolorian was the most beautiful human female, for face and figure, that he had ever seen or even imagined. Dim felt that he knew she had an inner spirit as beautiful as her outward appearance. Only, her lovely eyes were not exactly fixed upon the newcomer.

And she was carrying the white cane of a blind person.

The Banjolorian shot a hasty glance right out of the picture, out of the story, looking right at the author of this novel typing on his laptop.

All right, author, if you're going to create an ideal mate with whom I could go unhelmeted full time when we were alone in the house, please DON'T then just yank her away again!
 
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On Seedubb Earth

One thing sorcery could not do was to heal bodily injuries all in an instant; but Doctor Unusual's magic had ensured that his neck injury would not become a complete severance of his cervical spine. Knowing how important a man Doctor Unusual was, the Kansas State Police posted numerous armed guards around the hospital while waiting for other heroes to show up.

Groan Starr and his party (with Princess Vixen still wearing her Dolly Protein blonde wig) used their ship for an in-atmosphere hop to see the good sorceror; Batfellow, Huntergirl, Cyberdork and Luchador Hidalgo came along.

"Clive!" exclaimed Huntergirl --using Doctor Unusual's first name, because it could be confusing to address a patient in a hospital as Doctor. "Did you see who hit you?"

Unusual gave her an embarrassed smile. "I saw him, all right. I saw him in front of me, at the same time as he crept up from behind me. Because it was Opposite Whoosh, and he outsmarted me with a time-skip. Your own Dad is living proof that cunning may defeat greater power."

Luchador nodded. "Es verdad, amigo. More than one time, I would have been killed by enemies, if I had not always made a habit of using my brain in addition to my muscles."

"Now that we know you're going to make it," said Cyberdork, "I'm going to get out searching for Opposite Whoosh. Groan Starr, can you come with me? I believe that your telekinetic abilities might be able to trap Opposite Whoosh, kind of like spreading glue over the ground he runs on."

"I'll be glad to help," replied Groan; "but I can't actually fly."

Vixen waved a hand, like a child in a classroom. "But you can at least levitate!" Facing Cyberdork, she clarified: "My husband can't strictly fly, but he can make himself effectively weightless; that way, you could sort of tow him along like a kite."

"That will work. Groan, I know you've got something like telepathy; can you mentally detect our quarry?"

"If your bad guy were someone I knew personally, I think I could pick him out at maybe as much as a mile's distance. My sister the same, probably at a greater distance. But since Trala and I don't know him, the very most either of us might be able to detect would be that someone evil was over in such-and-such direction."

Cyberdork nodded at Groan. "That much might help. Go to the restroom first if you need to, then we'll start. Batfellow, can you stay on radio to hear any reports from us?"

"Of course I can..... because I'm Batfellow." Batfellow gave these words an exaggerated emphasis, to get a laugh out of Doctor Unusual.

Bot Index interjected, "Mister Batfellow, it might help if you let me monitor your good-guy frequency for calls from Cyberdork. Then you could do something like interviewing the state police about any clues they might have."

"If these law officers would let me read their databases on criminals at large in this and adjoining states," Bunkem the Mentalcat suggested, "I could calculate which criminals Opposite Whoosh was most likely to seek assistance from." Assuming Bunkem to be a superhero, the officers helped him to get online for this purpose.

Cyberdork and Groan Starr set forth in an outward-spiralling search pattern. Batfellow asked his daughter and Luchador to update the state police on the recent super-villain activity which had led to Doctor Unusual's misfortune. Then, with Unusual, Vixen and Puke listening in, the Caped Campaigner addressed Bot Index: "As I understand, you are a fully sentient being, complete with free will and even emotions. Is that not so?"

The robot lady's reply lacked her usual snarkiness of tone. "Yes, I am."

"And you surely are aware that Cyberdork is more machine than human, though he also retains his human personality and free will. He could in theory be regrown back into a complete human body; but at best it would be a difficult and painful process for him. He seems to be satisfied with the existence he leads now. Satisfied-- in all ways except one."

As far as a robot could look agitated, Bot now looked agitated. "Sir.... are you hinting that it might be possible.... for me and him....?"

"I've never been a robot or a cyborg," said Batfellow; "but where a man, and the, um, counterpart of a woman, both have genuine self-aware personalities, complete with real feelings, maybe some sort of love could be possible. Maybe you could even build robot children for yourselves."

Every external indicator light on Bot Index blinked. She looked at Doctor Unusual. "Sir, do you believe this could, you know, be feasible?"

"I assure you," relied the sorceror, "that I've seen stranger things. The concept is not unprecedented. Isaac Asimov and Piers Anthony both imagined free-willed robots being able to give and receive love."

"And there's another factor in favor of it," Princess Vixen put in. "At the time of my birth, my Grandmother Aquitura, she's on my father's side, still was living, but Grandmother Lisravil had already passed away. When Bot's awareness was being designed, Rabbishop Malarkey-- he was just a royal chaplain then-- proposed something both bold and humane. Malarkey urged the software planners to model Bot's personality traits after my maternal grandmother. Grandmother Aquitura had always gotten along well with Grandmother Lisravil, so she endorsed Malarkey's idea. This gave me the gift, in childhood, of experiencing something like having my departed grandmother available as well as the living one."

Vixen gazed at Bot. Bot, in turn, pointed metal fingers at Doctor Unusual and Batfellow. "Don't either of you dare to tell Cyberdork what we're talking about now! I don't have to be flesh and blood, to want to avoid jinxing what might be a good thing. And especially don't tell Cyberdork that I'm the copy of a grandmother!!"

Vixen laid a graceful hand on her governess' metal shoulder. "Dear Bot, having mannerisms like those of Grandmother Lisravil doesn't mean you are her. The actual Grandmother Lisravil is not inside your skin, she's in the afterlife. And remember when it was that you were built. You literally are not any older than I am."

Batfellow told the robot, "It's true that in effect you were born already an adult. But it's often been said of Cyberdork that he was 'born old,' because he always had a wise and responsible spirit about him. I'm starting to think now that you and he really were made for each other!"

Everyone speaking in this conversation was underestimating Cyberdork. Having a comms-link open to Bot Index while he flew his search pattern, he was in fact hearing everything that was said in the hospital room, though he didn't admit to Groan Starr that he was eavesdropping. And he thought hard about it.

Since becoming a bionic person, I've had a fulfilling life in many ways; but I've been assuming that love was out of reach. Yet Bot Index does have a living personality, a mind which feels and chooses. Maybe....?
 
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On the outskirts of Urbanopolis, the good magician Zoorama answered a request from Catfemale and Evening-Wing to visit the Bat-Grotto. After the security system passed her through by a hidden entrance, she found that Goldfinch and Virgil Fixxit were also present. Virgil was doing brainwave scans on a cooperating Maskoflage, recording changes in brain activity, as the Face Twister performed specific changes by request: lengthen the arms, shorten the arms, lengthen the legs, shorten the legs, eyes larger, eyes smaller, and so on.

"Thank you for coming, Zoorama. I believe you can magically absorb understanding of data developed by scientific means."

"Yes, I can. Should I assume that you want me to be able to spot other Face Twisters?"

"That's right," Virgil confirmed; and Maskoflage elaborated:

"We Face Twisters develop our own individual styles of disguise, and since we operate alone more often than not, any one of us may fail to recognize another one, even if the one is not purposely trying to go unrecognized by the other. But now, obviously, Slywink and the others WILL be trying to pass unrecognized. I don't believe they guess I've been turned, but by now they all know that Batfellow captured me. So I can't personally assist you in the hunt out on the streets; but I'm undergoing Mister Fixxit's scrutiny so that others, primarily YOU, have the optimum chance of detecting other Face Twisters."

"Makes perfect sense," remarked Zoorama.

Then Goldfinch said, "I have a stake in this, because Maskoflage here impersonated ME. This embarrassment doesn't make me any better able to spot them, but it sure motivates me to help in the hunt any way I can."

Zoorama patted Goldfinch's arm. "If you're about to offer to accompany me as a physical-defense resource, I'm glad to accept the offer. I think it's better if you and I both go plainclothes." She looked at Virgil. "Will you share the neurological readings on Maskoflage with others too?"

Virgil nodded. "Doctor Unusual's out of the game for now; but I believe our extraterrestrial visitors, Groan and his sister Trala, must have enough quasi-magical sensitivity to profit by my findings."

"I wish our Green Flashlight would come back," sighed Catfemale. "He would be a major help."
 
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Change of place, but a related situation

In Filthopolis on Greedy Crime, Baron Meedi Ogre Snarkonnen was meeting with Doctor Dizwarn and Master Naughtygator Zingdash, to brainstorm their most productive courses of action, since direct aggression against the Ashtrayides on Srirachiss was a non-starter for the near future. As the Baron observed: "It's our supreme good luck that my predecessor finally succeeded in transplanting a few Habanero monsters to Greedy Crime, so we would have enough of a secure source of Srirachian Jalapeno to support our minimum necessary level of galactic shipping. Not the best conditions we've ever had, but sustainable.

Without casting any shade on Zingdash, Dizwarn said, "We have plenty of promising fields of action. We've barely started exploring the possibilities for collaboration with Admiral Blender's people. We have a far greater population of people with SOME special abilities than they have, but their highest-level individuals have personal powers which we can't equal person for person. We need to become acquainted with more of their specialists."

"Then we need to go looking for them," Zingdash concurred. "I say this is important enough to warrant simply writing off whatever we might have achieved by sending Blender and Quarkie to Srirachiss. Go ahead and change Blender back to his original face, so that his Dark Headgear won't be in any doubt of who Blender is."

"All this is well enough," said Meedi Ogre. "But remember our VERY TOP agenda. Above everything else, we need to undermine the belief in goodness. The good news for us is that spiritual sabotage doesn't require us to transport large numbers of operatives."

"My Baron," Dizwarn replied, "this is as much as to say that we need to send reinforcements for our Face Twisters on the planet Seedubb."

Here Zingdash sprang a surprise. "Baron, I received gratifying news mere minutes before you summoned us to this conference. You will recall authorizing a mission to Planet Alwaysurnia? The news came to me that the planet's leader, Sorcery Lass, has been overthrown."
 
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Back in Urbanopolis on Seedubb Earth, within three hours after the last post which featured Zoorama and Goldfinch, those two characters made ready to board Zoorama's flying carpet. Luchador Hidalgo rejoined the Bat-Grotto crowd before the two took off; he and Evening-Wing would be helping to guard Maskoflage until further notice, and being a reserve reaction force for the others.

Luchador wondered aloud: "I hesitate to question my compadre Brutus Dwayne's judgment, but was it really a good idea for him to make it known to the other Face Twisters that he personally had captured our nuevo amigo Maskoflage?" To this, Evening-Wing replied: "We can't be certain that the other shape-changers wouldn't have known anyway that Maskoflage got caught; by announcing outright that HE had nabbed a Face Twister, Brutus will have drawn the attention of others. For at least the next few days, wherever Brutus goes and whatever he does, the other Face Twisters will have to assume that his actions are a threat to them in particular. So, all other things being equal, the REST of us now have a better chance of catching more of these aliens."

Like programming a navigation computer, the exotic black-haired sorceress magically programmed her flying carpet to act as an extension of her own mind, concentrating on what she had just learned from VIrgil Fixxit about Face Twister characeristics. If and when Zoorama sensed a hint of a Face Twister's presence within her sensing range, the carpet was to fly toward that general location, then spiral in closer unless otherwise commanded.

The carpet's ability to prevent rightful riders and their belongings from falling off meant that Zoorama and Goldfinch could bring along drinking water and bags of trail mix. Before takeoff, the "good witch" told the potential future Batfellow: "We don't know if there ARE any other Face Twisters in Urbanopolis, after Brutus captured Maskoflage; but we have to start someplace. On this flight, we're going to balance being alert with fighting boredom. We can talk for a minute or two at a stretch, then be quiet for an equal time."

During the first hour of their night flight, Zoorama and Goldfinch spoke only of minor topics at their talking times. Finally, after eleven p.m., Goldfinch grew bolder where subject matter was concerned.

"Zoorama, everybody who matters, knows that you've known Brutus since you were four years old and he was nine. But nobody ever says a word about the fact I figured out a year or so ago: that you've loved him since childhood because he was kind and friendly to you, and you still love him right now as much as you ever did. Saltina not being ferociously jealous of you speaks well for Brutus' moral character, and for Saltina's, and for yours. I'm sorry that you should have to bear the sadness of your love not being returned; but why SHOULD your love have gone unreturned? You became an adult woman before Saltina ever was even a theoretical mate for Brutus; why didn't you make your move BEFORE there was competition?"

Zoorama kept her feelings under control, but did raise an eyebrow. "If you're implying that I should have cast a spell to MAKE Brutus desire me before he ever took an interest in Saltina, that would have been fighting dirty-- even though, if winning him for myself, I truly would have done my best from then on to make him happy through genuine loving behavior. And magic is not omnipotent; Brutus has a strong enough mind that he would eventually have shaken off any love-enchantment. So only by playing fair could I have ensured my keeping at least his friendship. If you love something, set it free."

Goldfinch sighed. "I apologize for making it sound as if I thought you would fight dirty. But on my honor as a Teen Tryout, I didn't mean to say that you should have tried to control Brutus with a love spell. What I meant was that, just by your natural feminine qualities, and by the clearly sincere nature of your love for him, you should have been able to get him to marry you WITHOUT using magic."

"Thank you for clarifying. You may be certain that I've gone over all these things in my mind at least three thousand times in the past eighteen or twenty years. Yes, there would have been a strong possibility of my winning Brutus for myself before Saltina ever came within his orbit. But the elephant in the room would always have been..... the issue of such a huge INEQUALITY between him and me."

"Say what? Knowing Brutus as well as you do, knowing he isn't afraid of anyone or anything, do you really think he would've been too intimidated by you to feel comfortable in a marriage to you?"

Zoorama caressed the hair on the boy's head. "You still have plenty to learn about life, Goldfinch. When I said 'inequality,' I meant it the other way around. It's Brutus Dwayne who is superior-- in spirit, heart and intellect. If it had been his fate to acquire magical powers, he would have been mightier in sorcery than Doctor Unusual and I combined. His mind and his discipline, more than his physical athleticism, have brought him success against formidable enemies, even without his having any super-powers.

"You may never have heard; this was before you were eating solid food; but the first time Brutus ever met Ryan Pebbles, Brutus grabbed the Green Flashlight artifact right off of Ryan's hand, as easily as taking a potato chip out of a bag. Brutus has mastered the quality of mindfulness; not only is he always smarter than his adversaries, he's also more consistent about being mentally PRESENT in any situation. If I had been so lucky as to become Mrs. Brutus Dwayne, he would have been UN-lucky in the match, because I would have been the one slowing HIM down, rather than the reverse.

"Which is what makes Catfemale a better partner for Brutus Dwayne than I would have been. Of course I have more sheer power than Saltina has; but she has the same kind of mindfulness he has, which makes her his best possible wife. And I could never be so horribly selfish as to wish for Huntergirl never to have been born.

"But make no mistake: if I ever happen upon an alternate Earth where there's an exact copy of the Brutus I know and love, and this one's unattached, and there is no Saltina Kool in his life, and there's also no duplicate of me whom I would be wronging by moving in, and if THAT Batfellow thinks he could marry me without being slowed down by me.... I'm going for it!"

Zoorama and Goldfinch didn't uncover any new Face Twisters in Urbanopolis that night. They did, however, gain an increased mutual understanding, and Goldfinch gained a deeper understanding of human nature at its most virtuous.

Meanwhile, the author of this epic began pondering whether, without breaking up the Bat-Cat couple of Seedubb, he might indeed provide Zoorama with a Batfellow of her own, someplace else.
 
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