Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

Returning to the Stephen King-ish steampunk world:

Ronald of Goliad, the last of the Wellvernian Towermen, the gunslinger-knight who looked like Idris Elba but was wearing a cowboy hat, had purposely not ridden a horse for this journey through The Ominous Lands. Important though it was to reach the Smoke Maidens on the northern continent of Arcondoyla, Ronald could not in conscience neglect to weaken the evil forces on his native southern continent.

Foregoing the use of a horse was partly due to not wanting an innocent horse to die; but it was also intended to lure evil creatures to him by appearing more vulnerable. It would be a great victory for the survival of normal humanity if Ronald could eliminate one of the five or six WORST evils running loose in Stingkeefa before he crossed the Equatorial Ocean.

It was worth the risk that he might not live to seek out the Smoke Maidens, if he could vanquish the Wolves of the Crybabiya.

One of the mental disciplines of the Towermen was called "walksleeping," a deliberate reversal of "sleepwalking." A gunslinger could fall jnto a trance while walking forward (or on horseback); could wake back up instantly in case of danger; but meanwhile would enjoy almost as much benefit of resting as if truly asleep. Ronald had been walksleeping for longer than one full 22-hour Punksteemian day, emerging into complete consciousness only three times to drink water, chew some elkalope jerky, and relieve himself. But for the whole time, his arbalest, his revolvers, his axe and his poniard, plus a few throwable stones in his duster-coat pockets, had been ready for use.

The next day's sunrise-- this time, not eclipsed by Punksteema's unnaturally-close moon-- had just begun, when the far-distant howling also began. The Wolves of the Crybabiya think they're smart. Monsters immune to ordinary attacks are almost always vulnerable to silver and fire; and the few monsters who are immune also to those things, can be warded off by various protective spells, prayers and symbols. No evil is allowed to be invincible. The Wolves are coming now, at sunrise, because they reckon that my presumed campfire will have burned out, and I'll be less alert for being tired after a restless night. Maybe also too muddy-headed from fatigue to utter a proper prayer against evil.

They've killed enough defenseless victims to make them complacent. The deaths of my fellow gunslingers in recent years were orchestrated by evildoers far more sophisticated than the Wolves. The Wolves don't realize how many precautions the murderers had to take, to kill gunslingers and not be killed themselves. The Wolves don't realize how dangerous even the very last surviving Towerman can be to them.

Proceeding along westward, Ronald veered a few paces to his right, to attach a length of rope to an overhead tree branch. This, while the trees were thick enough so no beast was likely to notice that he had left the rope there. Then farther west, into a space where saplings began to supplant full-size trunks-- AS IF he didn't realize that at least one Crybabiya Wolf would already be ahead of him.

Fully awake now, fully alert, Ronald spotted movement in a thicket of high bushes. Not by chance am I walking with my back to the rising sun. Your movements won't be obscured by sunlight in my eyes. I not only know that you're there, interceptor; I can tell just when you gather yourself to sprint at me. But you won't live to sprint.

The hero's ears were very well trained, and there was enough undergrowth in the woods behind him that no physically-real creature pursuing quickly on foot would be able to stay unheard, save by a magic more refined than the Wolves of the Crybabiya possessed. Ronald could thus focus most of his attention on the ambush ahead. When the thicket stirred again, the gunslinger's brain instantly registered that the main initial push coming against the foliage from within was at exactly the right height above the ground to be caused by the head of a large wolf. The range was over a hundred paces.... but the magnum revolvers wielded by Towermen had rifled barrels, to shoot properly according to the gunslinger's instinctive aim.

Without losing any of his reaction speed, a corner of Ronald's brain played back the Creed of the Towermen, a creed composed before gunpowder weapons had first appeared on this planet:

The Almighty Creator is my tower of defense, and He shall make me a tower of defense for the innocent. Death holds no terror for me, because my spirit cannot fall out of the hands of God. My bow, my pike, and my sword shall smite the wicked and uphold the righteous. And when my time comes to die, I shall depart in assurance that the world is better for my having passed through it.

By the time the attacking beast's head became visible, and before its entire body came into view, Ronald's bullet was punching between the blazing green eyes. The man-eating monster was dead before it heard the shot which was killing it. Its high resistance to normal weapons had availed it nothing.... because of the special gift of the Towermen.

Each Towerman had the power to damage ALL weapon-resistant monsters, even ghostly ones, with NORMAL attacks, including his bare hands. Once the Smoke Maidens had formed, they had received the same dispensation of power against evil. Ronald was hoping that, upon contacting the Maidens on the northern continent, he would not find them to have lost or forfeited this crucial blessing.

Two more Crybabiya Wolves charged, also from the west: one at Ronald's ten o'clock, the other at his three o'clock. The gunslinger already had his second revolver in his left hand; and in spite of the separation in target azimuth, his hero-instinct guided both shots at once, again piercing the evil beast-brains. His ears reported that any other Wolves behind him still were not yet close enough to prevent him from running back to the tree where his rope waited. Pistols holstered, he dashed back to the tree, climbed up, hauled the rope up after him and freed it, then climbed higher. Unlike ordinary canid predators, Crybabiya Wolves could climb trees-- but not so adroitly as to reach him before he could slay them.

Of course, if they decided to pull back and wait him out.....

Ronald had left his heavy crossbow slung on his back for the opening stage of action. There would have been no reloading it after a shot, or even re-slinging it, in the midst of a melee against the beasts. And a Crybabiya Wolf might well be smart enough to carry the arbalest away, so that even if Ronald lived, he would lose the use of his long-range projectile weapon. But high in a tree, with some effort, he should be able to re-crank the arbalest.

The gunslinger was not currently carrying any loose bullets. He had his two pre-loaded change-out cylinders, and the nine rounds remaining in the guns. Having fired only one bullet from his left-holster gun, he kept that one as it was, but replaced the cylinder of the right-holster gun. If he began shooting now, he would be able to slay or disable eleven Wolves before he needed to do any reloading.

As of the moment when his right-holster pistol was again fully loaded, there were five newly-arrived Wolves in the vicinity. Not too near to the base of the tree, since they didn't care to throw their lives away uselessly; but they doubtless expected additional reinforcements.

All right, unseen schemer who presumably set the Wolves on my scent: you manifestly don't want me to reach Arcondoyla. Perhaps this is actually a GOOD sign, where my overall quest is concerned. If the Smoke Maidens were altogether gone, you might not be trying so grimly to prevent me from reaching them.

Bad luck for you sons-of-werewolves; I've still got some tricks up my sleeve. And even if I die here, maybe the tale of my last stand will reach the northern continent; then any remaining Smoke Maidens will get the hint that there's evil to be defeated here in Wellvernia.
 
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The extraordinary depth/height of atmosphere around Punksteema, when combined with a capricious disregard for mere astrophysics, made it possible for a moon having almost one-seventh of Luna's mass to be orbiting INSIDE the planet's envelope of air, yet never be pulled into an extinction-event collision with said planet. But even a rather magical world could not entirely bypass physical causes and effects. The moon's movement at what would be upper-ionosphere altitude in Original Earth's atmosphere (measuring, of course, between Punksteema's surface and the NEAREST part of the moon's surface) meant that gale-force winds were a commonplace feature of the planetary environment. It followed that, wherever feasible, human habitations were built partially sunk into the ground, or up against that side of a mountain which was downwind relative to prevailing winds in its region. The discovery of electricity on this world had been followed quickly by the invention of wind turbines to generate electrical power.

And all manner of kites and gliders had been made for most of the history of human life on this world.

This, right now, offered the chance for one particular human life to be preserved against the Wolves of the Crybabiya.

With the progress of day, Ronald of Goliad had seen the number of his lupine besiegers (besides those he had slain earlier) increase to a maximum of thirty-nine, all adult beasts. This total had very soon been reduced again, as Sir Ronald expended all of his .44 caliber bullets except two per pistol, patiently choosing moments when he found clear lines of fire. Not one of his bullets was wasted; and of the three crossbow quarrels he had shot, one had penetrated TWO of the Wolves. Then there were the stones he had carried in his coat pockets; he had daubed each of these with doomrat blood, whispering words of defeating evil over them, and used them all to good effect.

Emulating military mortar fire, the gunslinger-knight had lobbed the stones in high arcs, to descend upon Wolves who thought themselves to be safe behind cover. Each stone he flung had slain or badly hurt one of the Wolves. Now, down to only last-stand ammunition plus his melee weapons, Ronald went to work on his nothing-to-lose escape tactic.

What he was going to attempt was not unprecedented. His greatcoat had stirrup-like loops attached to its lower hem. With the garment unbuttoned, his arms out of the sleeves, and his feet and hands extending it out from his body, he and his coat would become a living kite. Given a moment with favorable wind, the gunslinger would be able to get a long lead upon pursuit.

There was a craggy ridge line less than a mile off to the west-by-southwest. If Ronald reached that high ground, the terrain would favor a human over any canid creature. He would be able to lose the Wolves. He had done gliding before; he needed only to ascend as high in the tree as he could, then choose his moment to leap onto the breeze.

And then, from the opposite direction than he needed to fly, he heard the little girl crying.

He knew that the Wolves would both hear her and smell her.

The call of duty is the life and the path of a Towerman.....

(CUE OBI-WAN KENOBI HERO MUSIC)​
 
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Ronald would not be able to fly straight toward the probably-orphaned girl; she WOULD have to be directly upwind. It was do or die now. His cherished greatcoat could render him just one more service.

He threw the coat into the wind, and it flew off by itself. Since the Wolves of the Crybabiya were after all supposed to be hunting the gunslinger, they all did at least look, and move some little distance west, before they realized that there was no man inside the coat. Using this moment, Ronald did his best to see which of the Wolves was nearest to the child. His arrow named Death flew perfectly to slay that Wolf. With his axe, the gunslinger cut off the part of his rope which was still tied to a tree limb, so he could still have most of the rope. Dropping to the ground, he whipped a loop of rope around the nearest carnivore's neck, and with the equivalent of a kung-fu move, BROKE that beastly neck.

Ronald yanked the arrow called War out of an already-slain Wolf. He would have no time to crank up his arbalest so he could shoot that quarrel again, but-- assuming he survived the next three minutes at all-- the potential value of still having eventual use for the heavy crossbow justified the encumbrance. Especially since he was about to be all out of bullets. His last four gunshots killed four Wolves, one of which had been starting toward the little girl. Pistols re-holstered, running toward the child, he also retrieved the arrow called Death. Still no time to re-cock the crossbow, but maybe later?

Now he caught his first clear sight of the girl, eight years old, and realized that he had actually seen her two days ago. Her family had housed him overnight. Probably all dead now.

Righteous wrath re-energized the Towerman, and he THREW the second retrieved quarrel straight into the eye and brain of the nearest advancing predator. The next Wolf got the same treatment with the other quarrel. A grabbed-up rock broke the skull of yet another one. Axe and poniard now sprang into Ronald's hands. The next two Wolves tried to catch him between them, but his ambidexterity served him well. His poniard laid open the Wolf's throat on his right, and his axe cracked the skull of the other. But his grip on the melee weapons was weakening.

Only one Wolf still faced him. Nothing to lose by bluffing. They had no way of knowing how many rounds I started with. Ronald pushed exhaustion aside one more time, and re-drew his revolvers.

He didn't know why, but words came to his dry mouth: "Ask yourself, are you feeling lucky?"

The evil fantasy beast didn't feel that lucky; it withdrew. No others were nearby anymore. After all, Ronald HAD wiped out very nearly the entire pack. So the gunslinger was able once again to recover the arrows Death and War. This time, he would finally crank up the arbalest and settle an arrow in it. The reloading process seemed to take an hour. During this, he finally spoke to the girl.

"Veronica, where are your parents and the other children?"

The only reply he received was the girl's unspeakably devastated stare; but she didn't shrink away from him when he took her in his arms.

"Believe me, Veronica, if your mother and father and your sister and brothers are gone from here, they ARE with God now. And THOSE monsters will be in the other place." She hugged his neck without speaking.

"Do you have an uncle or a grandfather anyplace?" To this, Veronica shook her head.

"Then I'll be your uncle now, for your family, because they were good to me." Ronald mentally added: Whoever organized the Crybabiya Wolves to hunt for me and murder people who helped me, WILL be going to The Bad Place. And if God wills it, since He has kept me alive, this girl will be taught all of my skills.
 
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As they retraced the way back to where Veronica had lived, Ronald allowed her to walk as much as she felt she could do. Not one man in fifty on Punksteema could have kept going through as much exertion as the Towerman had undergone this morning after long hiking; and, girl-power talk notwithstanding, scarcely one woman in a hundred could have done as much. At a rest stop, he succeeded in persuading her to eat a strip of his elkalope jerky; from there, he carried her.

During this stage of the trip back east, Veronica suddenly smiled, as if nothing bad had happened to her. Looking into the gunslinger-knight's eyes, she calmly told him, "They were right: you are worthy." But he was too fatigued to request an explanation.

The explanation, however, was forthcoming soon enough. Barely fifteen minutes after Veronica had spoken, Ronald turned a corner in the trail-- and saw TWO families waiing to greet him.

There stood Veronica's complete family-- INCLUDING another, identical Veronica. Beside them, on Ronald's right, were duplicates of all family members BESIDES the girl. The Veronica whom Ronald had been carrying, now hopped out of his arms and rejoined the group on Ronald's right.

The husband and father on Ronald's left said, "This is us over here. We're all real and alive, but we on this side are the actual common mortals. These others kept us and our neighbors safe from the Wolves, then decided to put you to a test." He fell silent, looking toward his double in the other group. The duplicate father took it from there:

"Greetings, noble warrior! We are a group of plotline-convenient super-duper immortals. We don't pretend to be anything like equal to the Almighty Creator; in fact, we take orders from Him. We assure you that He has heard your prayers. Your fallen brothers are safe and well in Heaven, being rewarded for their faithful deeds; and we have been sent to help you re-establish the Order of Sir Edgar of the Tower."

Bowing deeply, Ronald replied, "Not only I, but all good people of Wellvernia, will be grateful for any aid you provide. What is your precise intention?"

The duplicate wife-and-mother gestured toward the fatigued hero. "The simplest part first." Suddenly, it seemed to Ronald that he had been enjoying normal nutrition and sleep for the past five days. Moreover, his clothes were suddenly clean and undamaged; his four pistol cylinders had been reloaded with bullets, with two identical ones added; he had crossbow bolts in his quiver again, and his rope was coiled at his hip.

"The quarrels you already had have been retrieved for you," the mother-figure told him; "and one more just like them is added. You may call it Luck. A virtue has been placed on all five arrows: they will NEVER harm an innocent person. They will actually change direction in flight, to avoid hitting an innocent person and hit the evildoer they should hit. Note, however, that the arrows WON'T maneuver endlessly, to chase evildoers around corners and up stairways and along tunnel mazes; that would be a bit Gary Stu-ish."

The actual mother of the actual Veronica interjected: "When these immortals turned up to protect us and the neighbors against the Crybabiya, they chose that one there to assume the appearance of my daughter. She was to pretend to be lost and helpless, appearing at the very time when things were going badly for you."

The duplicate father took up the narrative once more:

"We know about your mission. It is a good and right purpose for you to pursue. Our only concern was whether you had the enduring integrity to remain pure in your idealistic motives. Exactly at a time when it seemed that your chances of surviving at all, never mind continuing your quest, looked very poor, you were presented with someone who was in even more peril than you were. Someone who, as far as you could know, had absolutely no chance of life unless YOU saved her. In this crisis, you passed the test with flying colors."

Now the immortal who had posed as Veronica suddenly grew into the shape of what Veronica would presumably look like as an adult.

"Sir Ronald of Goliad, I will never forget your willingness to sacrifice yourself in my defense. By your actions, you demonstrated that your ideals were not merely theoretical; that you cared about individual beings, powerless though they might be. On the original Earth, someone once wrote: 'The test of a gentleman is how he treats those who can do nothing for him.' You treated me as if I had been your own child. You thereby proved that YOU ARE WORTHY. Worthy to succeed in your quest, worthy to be, in effect, a new Sir Edgar."

The duplicate mother smiled. "Understand, we're not simply going to do EVERYTHING for you. Like the Arisians in the old Lensman books-- you don't have those on Punksteema, never mind-- we know it isn't good for you to have everything just handed to you. But what we will do, is to ensure that you have a fair chance to succeed."

The duplicate father now resumed: "You know you have been re-equipped. But wait, there's more!" (There was such a thing as commercial advertising on Punksteema, and Ronald got the little joke.) "When you're ready to move on, we will instantly transport you to the other continent; this will definitely throw your hidden enemies off of your trail."

It was Ronald's turn to raise an eyebrow. "I guess you're not going to tell me WHO those top-ranked enemies are?"

The immortal who now looked like an adult Veronica caressed Ronald's cheek with a slender hand. "Refer to, It isn't good for you to have everything just handed to you. But you will gain a head start which they'll never anticipate."
 
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The gunslinger nodded, and squeezed the hand which had touched his face. "Never think that I'll be ungrateful and greedy! What you're already providing will make an enormous difference."

"Well, here comes the rest," said the father-figure. "You will be given a gift which merely reinforces the already-existing effect of your chivalrous integrity. When you speak the truth, your hearers will always KNOW that you speak the truth."

"Is this one of those double-edged gifts?" Ronald asked. "Like I'm never allowed to lie, even to enemies?"

"It's a shame that you should ever have needed to lie. But even in the Ten Commandments, the Israelites were told, 'You shall not bear false witness AGAINST your neighbor;' they were never told they could not lie to SAVE their neighbor's life."

"Just don't TELL anyone that you have this gift of persuasion," the mother-figure advised. "Then you'll still be believed when you tell the truth; it's just that you'll be on your own if you lie."

"Thanks, I think I can manage. Now, this much is plenty, but is there anything further?"

"One more gift," said the father-figure. "When you meet any person who is worthy to become a Towerman or a Smoke Maiden, you will know it, and you will be able to train such a person."

The imitation Veronica smiled and added: "Now, here's an afterthought: a money pouch with silver coins for several nations of Arcondoyla."

Tha actual child Veronica advanced to hug the gunslinger-knight. "I'm really, really glad that my family DIDN'T really die! But if they had died, you would've been the very best one to take care of me. You're a very, very good man."

Ronald patted her little shoulder. "And you're a very good girl, who deserves to have adults love her and take care of her."

The real mother now also hugged Roland. "May God be with you. Go now, and restart the Towermen!"

"Wait, wait!" exclaimed the simulated adult Veronica. "I thought of one more good bit of help. I now place a blessing upon your crossbow. After each shot, you will be able to re-cock it in one swift movement, almost as fast as working a lever-action rifle, without reducing its driving power. And for a bonus-- now how much would you pay?-- each quarrel you shoot, if not broken, caught or deeply stuck in something, will return to your quiver by itself."

Ronald smiled at her. "What I've just been through, proves how big THOSE practical advantages will be!"

The real father concluded: "Our hopes go with you, Sir Ronald. But know that if you die on your mission, WE will know that you did your best-- like a true knight."
 
Near the planetary capital of Srirachiss

Count Havabeer, the swordsman who had arrived with Princess Eerilake on the visit to Srirachiss, was out on the desert-- not far from shelter and safety, but still experiencing the use of a moisture-conservation suit. He was keeping within a fenced-off area, where sand was only a meter deep over underlying bedrock: similar in purpose to the shallow children's section of a public swimming pool on less-arid planets. From here, he watched the occasional habanero monster passing by-- some with riders, others moving as they chose.

"Count Havabeer, good to see you NOT making any trouble!"

The swordsman had heard the voice of Muddy-Drip Ashtrayides in person fewer than twenty times ever; but he had an excellent memory for voices, faces, names, etc. Knowing that Muddy-Drip had died and yet was making intermittent reappearances, he was instantly intrigued about WHY Muddy-Drip would bother manifesting with none of his relatives nearby.

"No doubt you're wondering why I would appear with none of my relatives nearby." Muddy-Drip was once again changing his appearance in a rotation: looking like Paul in the 1984 Dune movie, then like Paul in the SyFy Channel adaptation, then like Paul in the brand-new version from Warner Brothers. Only the SyFy version matched the Duke Muddy-Drip whom Havabeer had seen, but this was enough to allow recognition.

"I admit, my lord Ashtrayides, that I would not have expected you to journey back from the afterlife to visit ME, in preference to, say, your mother and your children."

Muddy-Drip nodded. "First, I could only appear to you in a place where I belong. Which means here, or Planet Waterpark where I was born. So I've grabbed this opportunity to clue you in. Just before coming to you here, I was over on Waterpark, discussing with Alec Hurdygurdy the shipbuilding program which Princess Eerilake is helping to make possible."

The Count cocked his head. "Are you implying that I could be of use to your household now?"

"I'm here to tell you that you can potentially be of use to the whole inhabited universe. You, and your Penny Jezebel wife also."

The Count held up a hand for a pause. "I guess not all mortal news reaches you in Heaven. Serrimu left me for a super-villain called Block Atom."

All three versions of Muddy-Drip's face showed surprise and sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. I don't mind mentioning that Grainy's and my afterlife is all the better because neither of was unfaithful or cruel to the other in mortal existence. But on the positive side, being alone leaves you free to explore a new life of good-guyness."

"Good-guyness? ME??"

"Stranger things have happened. You never were a great friend to House Ashtrayides; but you have shown authentic loyalty to your own liege-lord. Even this much decency makes you already a good guy, compared to the evildoers about whom I now am concerned." So Muddy-Drip meticulously explained to Count Havabeer about the sinister interstellar campaign to make people everywhere lose hope of goodness ever prevailing anywhere: a campaign heavily supported by, but not limited to, the Snarkonnens and the Lazytaxies.

And Havabeer, for all of his lifelong cynicism, found himself taking Muddy-Drip very seriously.
 
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More changes of scene

On "Terra," still before the events involving Sha-Na-Na and Lady Blast, Sky Lioness, Conn Johnstantine, The Inquiry and Kimchee Man were on board their commercial airliner flying above Nevada. It was no secret to anyone on board that these four passengers were superheroes; but only when they neared their closest point of approach to Area 42 did Conn make an announcement to everyone else in the airliner, magically projecting his voice to everyone equally:

"Attention, friends! This is Conn Johnstantine the good wizard speaking. Do not be alarmed; you are not in any danger; but the four of us need to teleport out of the airplane. Our departure will not affect this flight; you will continue forward as if we had never been passengers. Have a nice day."

Conn's teleportation potential was not limitless; being close to Area 42 made a big difference in the fatigue he would experience. The Inquiry, with his finding-things-out power, had first ascertained which spot inside the installation's perimeter would be best for their arrival. Conn's teleportation power could do a lot to prevent one solid object from fusing with another at the arrival point, but things like concrete-block walls were not easy to deal with. Aided by Inquiry's input, Conn delivered all four of them to the interior of the secret compound. The nearest thing that happened to a disastrous matter-fusion was that one security guard was knocked off his feet by a wave of air, without suffering harm.

As the least powerful of the quartet where fighting was concerned, Inquiry made his contribution by immobilizing the fallen guard with a wrestling hold. "Listen!" he told the uniformed man. "We're not here to hurt anyone!" This much said, Inquiry took away the man's gun, then released him. "But on behalf of the superhero community, we need to investigate what is being done with Hamhanda Blubber."

The guard sat up, glancing nervously at Kimchee Man, taken aback by the Korean hero's faintly greenish skin, then said, "We don't want to hurt anyone either! I can understand how you could be worried about the safety of Miss Blubber, what with her being a mentor and leader to superheroes...."

Kimchee Man interrupted: "Were you told that about Miss Blubber? She isn't any friend to us heroes; she WENT AGAINST superheroes back in my country!"

"That's right," said Sky Lioness; "Hamhanda's gone rogue, wanting only to gain advantages for herself."

"That's not for you to judge!" exclaimed a serious manly-man voice. It was Colonel Rick Flakjacket: not at all an evil man, but sometimes misguided. He and eight more guards had rushed around two building corners, and had automatic weapons levelled at the heroes' heads. "You will stand down now, and be taken into custody."

Conn was tired from the teleporting spell; but something had to be done. There was a serious danger that those guns MIGHT NOT be guns made on the A-Team principle of never killing anyone. So Conn expended all his remaining present "charge" of magic-- to change all the guns into plastic toys.

Seizing the opportunity, Kimchee Man briefly made the air stifling for Colonel Flakjacket and his men. This enabled Sky Lioness to grab the Colonel and order the guards to stand down instead.

"As we told your man over there," she explained to the Colonel," we came here only because we know something YOU may not know: Hamhanda Blubber was caught in the act of trying to summon a demon lord into our world!"

"If Miss Blubber would do that," added Kimchee Man, "you can bet she'll have no qualms about lying to your interrogators. We need to be present with anyone who questions her."

Letting go of Colonel Flakjacket, Sky Lioness told him: "We're cool with you keeping Miss Blubber here, provided you AREN'T fooled by the lies she'll surely tell you."

On their way through the interior of a large building, the heroes noticed a conference room with its doors standing open. Twenty-five or thirty people, some of them in uniform, were watching some sort of training video. The screen showed what looked like old black-and-white newsreel footage. A lecturer's voice from the video set was droning:

"In September of 1941, teachers, doctors, engineers and social workers from Imperial Japan were heavily committed to humanitarian projects which would improve the lives of their cherished Chinese neighbors. The idealistic Goddess-Empress of Japan spent many weeks personally touring in China, encouraging the charitable efforts of her people. But in the middle of one of her Chinese inspection tours, disaster struck her own realm. The evil, sexist, racist Americans, who hated everyone that was different, launched a treacherous air offensive against every major Japanese population center....."

Conn Johnstantine and Sky Lioness looked at each other. Kimchee Man and The Inquiry looked at each other. All four heroes looked at Rick Flakjacket-- and saw that he showed no sign of noticing anything wrong with the "history" video.

Kimchee Man spoke to Sky Lioness in Arabic, a language which both of them happened to know. (In Kimchee Man's case, this was because his own family had lived for three years in Saudi Arabia, when his father held a lucrative technical job there.)

"Yes, it appears that the full-figured woman did bring something with her from the demons' dimension. I suspect that your special power to break evil enchantments will be needed shortly."
 
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On the planet Alwaysurnia, the repulsive arch-villain Skamartistor had summoned the False Teerifica for a meeting. Already with the skull-faced fighter-mage were three evil scientists: evil scientists whose knowledge was so advanced as to produce results equivalent to magic.

Two of the three were Lazytaxies in the service of House Snarkonnen; the third, also serving the Snarkonnens, was more specifically a Naughtygator, named Cosmodart. This Naughtygator, who had himself been the first person from Dune-derivative space to discover the existence of Planet Alwaysurnia, was enclosed in a gas-tight mobile capsule. The two Lazytaxies were a married couple. The wife, named Negafemina, was first to greet the arriving False Teerifica, whom Negafemina had been in charge of bio-modifying to be a copy of Actual Teerifica.

"Strength and pride, warrior-goddess! How are you faring at humiliating males?"

"Excellently, thank you," said a voice much deeper in tone than that of Actual Teerifica. "Ickilynn is a great help. If things continue this way, soon Skamartistor, Cosmodart, Specularkus and Bruteboy--" (Specularkus was Negafemina's husband, while the massive Bruteboy was a personal guard to Skamartistor) "--and a few other males we allow to keep their dignity, will be the only males on this planet who AREN'T cringing and submitting, asking forgiveness for offenses they never committed."

"It won't be longer than a few more weeks," Specularkus assured the skull-faced tyrant, "before we no longer need to pretend that you got overthrown."

"By all means, keep going as you are," said Skamartistor to all the others. "Until you Greedy Crime folks contacted me, I used to assume I would be satisfied ruling just this one world. But now, in association with you, I look forward to being part of something much bigger!"
 
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On "Urth," in this Earth's version of the state of Iowa, Superdude had made some alterations in this Iowa's version of the Maquoketa Caves, to create a sort of house for Martin "Atomic Scalp" Alpert to live in, where he couldn't burn anyone or set anything on fire. To prevent the ex-villain from feeling banished, assorted farm families who knew about his conversion immediately began visiting him. They were happy to see that he could actually eat the foodstuffs they offered him-- though he didn't exactly CHEW the food. And, just as at Vigilant Cowboy's Restoration Ranch, many visitors posed with him for photographs.

Scalpie's fourth night in his temporary home was a major ice-breaker. Scalpie hosted a barbecue; in fact, he BECAME the barbecue. A whole slaughtered steer, and two slaughtered turkeys, were brought to Maquoketa Caves, and several skilled local workers assembled an oversized cooking grill. It stood high enough that Scalpie could sit down beneath it, to cook the meat with his own flames. (As has already been established, he could prevent any harmful ionizing radiation from affecting his guests or the food.) Aluminum Banshee and Black Parakeet put in a surprise appearance, to sing for the assemblage. Superdude and his pregnant wife Luisa were in attendance as well, adding to the Justified League's endorsement of Scalpie.

Unknown to anyone else present, the telepath Charles Crazier was also attending, even dining. He had no invisibilty power; but what he could do was to make every person looking at him feel that this wheelchair-bound bald man did not need any help, and was of no importance. Only after all ordinary citizens present --except for a local Free Methodist pastor named Obed Whippler--had said goodnight, did Professor Crazier openly show himself to the lingering superheroes (plus Luisa Dane Klint and Pastor Whippler).

"Mister Alpert," said Professor Crazier with his ordinary voice, as a courtesy to the bystanders, "do you object to my addressing you by your original human name? Yes, you're right, I can mentally hear you thinking that you have no objection.... There we go, you are also thinking that you don't mind my speaking about your desire to be more human." Looking around at the others, Professor Crazier continued, more loudly:

"Atomic Scalp is a former nuclear physicist, named Martin Alpert. His present form is the result of his most --unconventional-- experiment ever. He originally had implants inserted into his head to enable him to turn his power on and off; but his nuclear fire took on a life of its own, sucking in hydrogen atoms from the environment. Soon it consumed the control implants, and kept on burning; yet he didn't die, because fantasy. He is able to restrain the effects of his energy on things around him, but he can't SHUT OFF the continuous atomic reaction. And shutting it off is precisely what he wishes-- I beg your pardon, Martin, go ahead."

Martin, a.k.a. Scalpie, spread his hands far apart. "First, I repeat my thanks to everyone who has been so kind to me. Iowa rocks! I want to QUIT being a danger to innocent bystanders; but at the same time, I want to be able to USE my powers to protect people against OTHER dangers. Which is to say, I wish to be like YOU, Corky Superdude Klint.

"If my only available options are to stay exactly as I am now, or to go full-normal and have no metahuman powers anymore, I will choose to keep my powers long enough to accomplish some good, then get rid of them permanently. But the best of all possible worlds would be if I could be fully human again, yet still have the OPTION of becoming Atomic Scalp at intervals; never to re-ignite by accident, but able to ignite by my own conscious will. Then I could still contribute something to the League."

Superdude stepped close to his enemy-turned-friend. "If this helps you to decide on your wishes, I promise that in the event of irrevocably losing your powers, you can still work for the Justified League as a laboratory scientist."

"Amen, Brother Super!" exclaimed Pastor Whippler.

"Here's what I can do for you," said Professor Crazier to the ex-villain. "I will spend four or five hours tomorrow tracing all your neural pathways. This will be my first step in evaluating whether or not your flame CAN be shut off by your own brain....."
 
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On the verge of the Bubblewrap Five reality, a discarded Shadything warship had been taking its time, consuming mineral-rich asteroids for purposes of refueling, hull repair and systems improvement.

Net improvement, not only restoration, was possible, because of the Shadythings' long-standing practice of giving each nightmarish vessel a LIVING creature as the central processing unit. There were still artificial computers on board, to provide the benefit of rapid calculation; but a sapient flesh-and-blood creature installed in the driver's seat (subject to the strictures of Shadything programming) could make judgment calls on what actions to take next.

The unfortunate living captain-slave of this particular screaming starship was Corin Webber, formerly a squadron leader of Earthlyforce fighter craft stationed on Bubblewrap Five, in orbit around Planet Upsydaisylon.

When the Shadythings had begun preparing their final campaign to devastate the known galaxy just because (which, obviously, had failed in the end, or there would not have been any more Bubblewrap Station Number Five to play a part in this episodic novel), the higher-ups had kept rank-and-filers like Lieutenant Webber ignorant of the threat of the evil super-duper-species. The rationale for this secrecy was to prevent the Shadythings from realizing they had been found out and accelerating their aggression. The higher-ups deciding on silence had been Kashew, a RELATIVELY friendly super-alien from the Nogutz race; Bruce Loxbagel, a senior Earthlyforce officer who was then commanding the station; and Ambassador Deelyte, a serenely beautiful Mintcandybarri lady who was in her world's diplomatic service.

Because the Bubblewrap Five leadership had refused to trust officers like Corin Webber with any facts about the ancient conflict between the somewhat-good Nogutzes and the totally-bad Shadythings, Webber had seen no reason not to search for clues on his own as soon as he had ANY inkling that the Shadythings existed. This tragically had resulted in Webber getting caught in hyperspace by the nightmare-beings.

In most cases, light combat spacecraft coming within reach of an organic Shadything warship had simply gotten destroyed, since the monstrous vessels already had their own bio-cores. But Lieutenant Webber had been lucky or unlucky enough to be caught at a time when Shadythings DID feel like harvesting another "spare data-drive."

Thus the daring Earthlyforce pilot, slotted into an evil organic starship, had come to know more about the Shadythings than he ever wanted to know, including many facts THEY knew about other races. Besides information directly about the Shadything race, Lieutenant Webber had enlarged his knowledge about the Mintcandybarri. Twenty-one Earth-years before Webber's capture, Mintcandybarri ships had alarmed some Earthlyforce ships by approaching the human ships with weapons in obvious ready-to-fire positions. Then the Mintcandybarri had gotten all fake-indignant over the humans opening fire in an attempt to protect themselves against what ANY sane species would have had to consider a threat. The war which followed had shown how eager the "noble" Mintcandybarri warriors were to beat up on a weaker species which could barely do any damage to Mintcandybarri ships.........

By the time Corin Webber had enlisted in Earthlyforce, the dramatic end of the lopsided war had become history. Everybody knew that Jack Playfair, an older human fighter pilot, who had succeeded in shooting down several small enemy ships, had somehow mysteriously caused the unstoppable Mintcandybarri to cease fire and let mankind live. This hero had so deeply impressed the Mintcandybarri, that they agreed to join the Bubblewrap Non-Aggression Project only because he was given leadership in it.

This much was public knowledge on many planets. But thanks to the vast espionage networks which had assisted the Shadythings, Webber after his kidnaping had been able to figure out more. Two things were the most prominent: one was part of the general picture, while the other concerned Webber himself in particular. The part specific to Webber was the fact that his own commanding officer's refusal to share intel about the Shadythings had exposed Webber to being taken. That stung, but Webber did understand operational security. What really galled him had been what he learned about Ambassador Deelyte.

For as long as Lieutenant Webber had been acquainted with Deelyte on the space station, he had observed that she NEVER tired of criticizing other intelligent races for being hostile and bigoted toward each other. Humans got used to Mintcandybarri talking this way; but no human had known, until Corin Webber found it out from the Shadythings' archives, how Deelyte herself had behaved at a crucial moment. After the shooting incident which the Mintcandybarri themselves had recklessly provoked, Deelyte had gone all blood-and-thunder, URGING the warriors to perform absolute genocide upon the human race.

Gaining this missing piece of the story had changed Webber's image of the Mintcandybarri diplomat: from "kind of self-righteous, but otherwise decent," to "despicable two-faced hypocrite."

All this knowledge Lieutenant Webber had acquired was transformative; but for the better part of two Earth-years he could do nothing about it. Then, when the ancient space-fiends had finally been driven away for keeps, the ship using Corin Webber had been damaged just enough, and in just the right places, so that Webber could act swiftly to make HIMSELF the complete and only onboard guidance system. The damage to his ship made it plausible that he "couldn't" keep up with the fleeing Shadythings. Accordingly, he had soon been free to use his own discretion about repairing his ship's battle damage-- and then, to USE his ship thenceforth as he saw fit.

Once he felt himself ready to pursue justice, Webber promised himself that he would be better than the smug Mintcandybarri. Wanting to rebuke and chastise, not to exterminate, he would avoid killing-- with the possible, eventual excepton of the stuck-up Deelyte. He would put rhe galactic bullies in their place, rubbing their noses in their MORAL inferiority. But at least for the near future, he would not let the Mintcandybarri know WHO was being better than they were.

The occasion for his first move of the game appeared in the form of a Mintcandybarri cargo ship. Good: a ship model I know well enough, so I can hit it only hard enough to put a big scare into the crew. Where they are now, they won't be in any real danger, and help can soon reach them. In fact..... yes, my sensors confirm no pirates or dangerous meteors in the sector. Excellent.

One missile, aimed so as not to jeopardize life support or communications, was enough to immobilize the freighter. The crewmembers might even be able to make repairs on their own; but if not, assistance from a nearby friendly planet was sure to reach them in time.

This was not bloody revenge; it was merely a statement. There was plenty of time to decide what the next measured statement would be.
 
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On a television cartoon program, a talking rabbit and a talking duck were being threatened by two humans: a bald man carrying a shotgun, and a moustached man armed with twin revolvers. The human men were soon joined by a runty extraterrestial who carried a raygun.

Little boys watching this frightful gun violence were instantly transformed into heartless, brutal, sociopathic murderers---

---in no universe that existed or ever could exist.
 
In the Kansas of Seedubb Earth

Not long after Cyberdork and Groan Starr flew off on their villain-hunt, Princess Vixen was approached by a sergeant of the state police, named Chip S. Thursday. (The visitors would later learn that this man was the grandson of a famous mid-20th-century police detective in Los Angeles.)

"Miss Princess? Missus Starr? Your Highness? Meaning no offense, I just figured I'd point out that, however it is on other Earths-- yes, many of us know by now that there ARE other Earths-- regular constituted law-enforcement bodies on THIS Earth do know how to tie their own shoes even WITHOUT being taught by metahumans. Just maybe, if you can call up your husband and Cyberdork, we could get some helicopters airborne to ASSIST in the search for Opposite Whoosh."

Vixen glanced at Trala-Lalia, who shrugged and said, "I'm no more familiar with this planet than you are; but I know that average persons do just fine for most law-enforcement purposes on Srirachiss and Waterpark." Luchador Hidalgo supported Trala: "I'm native to this world, and yes, police forces have been known to do great things. Even Batfellow, independent though he is, doesn't hold cops in contempt."

Bunkem Isotope got the sergeant's attention, and suggested, "What if Trala, Vixen, Luchador and I each ride along in one of these aircraft? ALL of us--" (Bunkem caught Vixen's eye) "--would agree to obey any orders from the pilots while we were on the flights. You can call us observers."

Chip Thursday nodded. "Bringing observers has been done before. On this basis, I think I can use my own discretion in permitting your involvement."

The sergeant was not wrong about being able to swing it. Only two state-police helicopters were currently available, but one was a large model. So Luchador, who had already served as a consultant for Mexican police forces in cases involving horror-movie-type monsters, rode in the smaller chopper, while Vixen, Trala and Bunkem rode in the big one. Cyberdork was made aware of this before the helicopters took off, and began calculating the best possible search pattern for the now-larger number of searchers.
 
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Doctor Unusual had been in a hospital for the better part of a week. The friends keeping vigil over him, even the Srirachiss contingent, had failed to think adequately about the implications of Opposite Whoosh having traveled back in time. They had, though, reluctantly decided not to try to reboot the recent events involving the Queenkraken and the Lazytaxie ship, due to possible time anomalies proving even worse.

The speedster villain had never bothered going forward again in time; time would carry him forward again of its own accord. He had fled straight south on the day he had nearly killed the sorceror. By the time the day of his kidnaping Princess Reelnyce returned, his up-to-date self was in Mexico, looking for Mexican villains who might pitch in on the fight against goodness north of the border.

The only good things to come from the helicopter search in Kansan airspace were (1) that Bunkem Isotope had committed to memory all steps in flying the type of helicopter he was riding in, and (2) that Sergeant Saturday became even friendlier to superheroes than he had been before. At his urging, his own state-level police force began conferring with counterpart forces in other states, to plan for increased coordination with metahuman good guys.

The time when The Wisecracker was captured by Captain Patriot was mere hours past, when an ordinary-looking van crossed into the southwest quarter of the state of York-Jersey. Driving the van was Opposite Whoosh, because his reflexes could prevent any traffic accident-- and because, with his mask removed, he looked utterly ordinary to anyone seeing him. His passengers were his colleague Scarycroak, the criminal chemist; two pistol-packing members of a Salvadorian girl-gang who had worked with super-villains before; and the one Mexican super-villain he had been able to find and recruit: El Ogro Feo.

"The Ugly Ogre" had once almost defeated Aquaticman in a fight (almost, and this on land, with the advantage of attacking by surprise). He had for sure beaten Captain Patriot, Spiderweb-Man and Evening-Wing once each in fights, and had beaten Luchador Hidalgo three times. As it happened, Batfellow had saved Captain Patriot, Spiderweb-Man and Luchador in their instances of defeat, because Batfellow always wins in the end. In Evening-Wing's case, Huntergirl's presence had saved him: not because she could outfight El Ogro Feo, she couldn't, but because Huntergirl stood protectively over the fallen Evening-Wing.... and say what you would about him, El Ogro Feo would never fight a woman.

The super-villain's "sexist" deference to women was the reason why Opposite Whoosh had made sure to add females to his hastily-formed posse, in case female opposition appeared.

When they came near to the suburbs of Urbanopolis, they were contacted by one more evil woman: the only female Face Twister along the team sent to Seedubb Earth by the Snarkonnens. She met them at a rather seedy truck stop. Her name was Underhandy. With her was a super-criminal who was recognized by everyone in the van....

"Captain! Great to have you join us!" exclaimed Opposite Whoosh. This "Captain" was Captain Airplane. His criminal name derived from his peculiar weapon choice. He would make paper airplanes, regular harmless paper airplanes from any sort of paper sturdier than paper towels, then spray them with a lacquer formula which made them rigid enough to hurt people and break windows. This kind of armament at least enabled him to pass metal detectors; and his lacquer had the convenient attribute of NOT sticking to his skin when he used it.

"Same here, Whoosher. Kudos to Underhandy; she's got a hideout set up for all of us; there's even pizza with PINEAPPLE there."
 
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Underhandy guided them to a country house. The property where it stood had formerly been what Original Earth would call a truck farm. It had once been home to a large family (they had simply moved away, not been murdered, because family-friendly-story), and could easily accommodate all of the evildoers.

"This place was intended to house all of us Face Twisters; but some of us dropped off the radar, by unknown causes. All that's left is me, Slywink--" (he was beside her as she spoke) "--and Maskoflage, if he's alive still. The missing ones were in other countries; anything might have happened to them."

"If we eventually conquer the Earth," said Slywink, "maybe our brothers will resurface."

Captain Airplane and El Ogro, with Rosita and Yasmina the pistoleras, weren't sure they liked this part. Opposite Whoosh hastened (most things he did were hasty) to placate them:

"I've learned enough about the spaceflight resources of worlds more advanced than ours, to know that even a technology as high as theirs--" (he gestured to Underhandy and Slywink) "--can't simply carry complete armies, with all possible supplies and munitions, to distant worlds, without SOME difficulties and vulnerabilities. And this isn't even factoring in the likely intervention of superheroes, like the Green Flashlight Corps.

"The distant empire these shape-changers work for --yes, Slywink, I have my own ways to find out things-- is impressive; but I happen to know that some of the powers we Earthling metahumans possess ARE NOT matched by anyone THEY have. This gives new meaning to the expression 'home court advantage'."

"I believe," interjected Underhandy, "that you're saying my masters would realize that it would go far better for them if they negotiated a deal with you local super-villains, than if they tried to take everything on their own terms."

"Exactly. The more so, once you figure out that we villains might make common cause with the superheroes against you, rather than be your slaves. Path of least resistance dictates that you bargain with us."

Underhandy smiled sweetly."True, as far as it goes. But there's another factor. You Earthling super-villains are not in as good a bargaining position as you were so recently as one Earth-year ago. Now that Spark Laboratories has the Anti-Villain Device back in hand, and well protected, THEIR side enjoys unrestrained use of super-powers, whereas YOUR side has become less effective. Your own attempt to recapture our escape ship for us only came as near to succeeding as it did because Wisecracker had grasped the need to use technological means which couldn't be disabled by the Anti-Villain Device. And you still failed in the end. So you need us. We can deploy troops with advanced weaponry, operating on totally non-organic power, against which the Anti-Villain Device will be irrelevant."

No one would have expected the massive "Ugly Ogre" to be the peacemaker. But now he said, "All of us are experiencing setbacks-- though my compadre Opposite Whoosh scored machismo points against el hechicero Doctor Unusual. This is a good time for us to cooperate, not play dominance games against each other. Senorita Underhandy, it is plain that your bosses own a great deal of territory in the universe. They can afford, if coming here, to make concessions to us. They can afford this, better than they can afford to see me and my friends joining forces with Spiderweb-Man, Zoorama, Aquaticman, Green Flashlight and other good guys-- AGAINST YOU."

"True enough," conceded Slywink.

"Another alternative," said Opposite Whoosh, "would be for your world to provide some of its technology for our use here. It wouldn't even have to be your latest-generation science, as long as it was good enough to offset the disadvantage we face because of the Anti-Villain Device. If your aid empowered us to defeat goodness on our planet, then the new regime of evilness here would become cooperative enough with your leaders to afford you benefits more than equaling what you would have gained by conquering us yourselves."

Underhandy and Slywink didn't need to be telepaths, to know each other's identical thoughts at this point: It's extremely unlikely that these Earthlings have any clue about how badly House Snarkonnen was weakened by the victories of Muddy-Drip Ashtrayides, and by the death of Baron Flatbeer. But it really is to the advantage of Greedy Crime and its allies if we can create some friends here, instead of resentful slaves.

"Your ideas have merit," Underhandy told Opposite Whoosh.

"Especially if your lot will give me something to steer my paper airplanes remotely," added Captain Airplane.
 
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Change of scene

Colonel America and Blank Window-- who had just announced that henceforth she wanted her alias to be "BRIGHT Window"-- had begun their honeymoon, and the Revengists were dispersing to resume their diverse activities.

On the planetoid Hallpasscard, Thunder-Master Thorpe said goodbye to his royal parents, then collected his Warriors Four at the near end of the Dentfloss Bridge. There, Timekall the Bridgekeeper, whose duties kept him on that spot, presented the five adventurers with a little gift he had tinkered together to aid their search for the mysterious Master Yoga-Rug.

"Our magic sailing galleys do well enough at crossing outer space and bringing their own atmosphere along; but I decided to modernize the concept. Instead of magical self-rowing space-oars, this new ship has a pair of magical self-starting outboard space motors. The sails are your hyperspace-jump system. It's already provisioned, and it will obey your commands."

All five seekers thanked Timekall heartily; Lady Sniff kissed the Bridgekeeper in a vain attempt to make Thorpe jealous. Thorpe was busy with a transfer of watch authority.

Of Hallpasscardian warriors not going on the voyage, not counting Timekall and King Garryowen, the mightiest was Thorpe's friend Ballwun the Uncommonly Decent. Thorpe briefed Ballwun on all ongoing situations which might need attention. Then, as a token of delegated authority, the Thunder-Master officially entrusted the war-hammer Oatmealnir to the virtuous Ballwun, who was worthy to carry it. Since the midget giant Nawtyfeller had created the battleaxe Stormcracker for Thorpe, Oatmealnir had become a backup weapon; but its testing function remained especially valuable, as a way to identify the most noble-hearted of heroes (like Colonel America, in the recent fight against Flatnose). Once Ballwun was officially in command of the Hallpasscardian army, and all five departing heroes were on board their conveyance, the magic motorboat used Dentfloss like an airport runway, and the quest was on.

"You haven't said what you want to do if and when we find this telepathic alien," Vastbulk reminded Thorpe.

"Learn from him; ask him questions. I formed the impression that he is almost as wise as my mother and father."

"If he's that wise," Lady Sniff muttered under her breath, "maybe he'll tell you who's the most obvious true love and soulmate for you."

All the way back on Hallpasscard, Timekall heard Sniff's muttering, and gravely nodded his head.
 
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King Garryowen and Queen Sprigga, knowing that planetoid security was in good hands with Timekall and Ballwun, resumed an on-and-off private discussion.

"Have Ignore-It and Forget-It returned yet?" asked the Queen of Hallpasscard, referring to her husband's pet magical ravens, who could fly through space at warp speed.

Garryowen shook his head. "No; but I always knew they might not be able to find the answer. Just can't leave anything untried."

Sprigga stroked her husband's mighty arm. "Is your own resistance holding?"

"It is, dearest. But as a precaution, please have Timekall communicate with The Revengists. Crimson Witch might be able to help in this; maybe Eyesight as well."

Since literally only hours after the victory against Flatnose, the King of Hallpasscard had felt his own spirit being attacked by an intangible evil. Who was doing this, he could not guess; but he understood in some degree WHAT was happening. It had to be connected with the unseen evil which had tried to make Thorpe forfeit victory over Flatnose. With Flatnose dead, the unseen enemy apparently was going all in-- trying to CHANGE REALITY.

The reality of the Hallpasscardian plot arc, like the Norse mythology of Original Earth, maintained that King Garryowen { Odin } was on the side of good. But this faceless evil was trying to convince him-- no, trying to MAKE IT BE TRUE --that he and Sprigga had had an additional child whom they in fact had never had. According to the made-up narrative, Sprigga's FIRST baby had been a demon-girl called Harhara. Harhara had supposedly been more powerful than any and every good-aligned being in mythological realities, more powerful than Flatnose, more powerful than Sauron, even supposedly more powerful than Chuck Norris. AND-- in this made-up sequence of events, Garryowen and Sprigga had WELCOMED having a devilish, cruel daughter, because THEY were evil themselves.

A great enemy wanted the royal couple of the planetoid to have retroactively been evil and hard-hearted for longer than Thorpe had been alive. This enemy, in the King's estimation, was trying to make people STOP BELIEVING in goodness altogether.
 
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Planet Spacebull

A woman named Lesha Slater, a friend of Jean Yuss, had been hastily elected as Chairwoman of the new Planetary Assembly, a body dedicated to re-inventing representative government. The eighty-six deputies of the Assembly, including Lesha herself, were in the midst of deliberations about how best to prevent another villain like Bob Snooze from ever taking sole authority over Spacebull again. They were managing courteous debate, since more than one well-intentioned proposal had been made; but suddenly, the legislature's Sergeant At Arms hurried into the chamber, carrying the equivalent of a cellular telephone, which he made to give to the Chairwoman.

"Madame Chairwoman, this comm-linker is connected to a call from space. The caller says he is a non-human wielder of The Fuss, but unlike Dark Headgear, he's on the up-side."

Lesha accepted the communicator. From it arose a one-tenth-scale holographic image of a roughly humanoid being, albeit one with a sort of tusked face. He apparently was aware of the moment when his hologram became visible to the Chairwoman, for he began speaking.

"May the Fuss be with you! I am Plow Korn, up-side Fuss master and colleague of Master Yoga-Rug, whose merchandise is known from galaxy to galaxy. Master Yoga-Rug lately succeeded in contacting me mentally across a vast gulf of stars, relating to me what recently happened in the star system which is home to the planets Directvideo and Chimpanzia."

"I hope Yoga-Rug also told you that the evildoers responsible for the trouble were cast out of power, " said Lesha, "and we now have a representative government on Spacebull."

"So I understand," replied the tusked face. "But sadly, I also understand that, although you did a good job of confining Dark Headgear, outside allies of his broke him out of prison."

"I wish it were otherwise, sir. But as it is, with our entire space navy being erased by the destruction of the mega-mothership, good riddance to it, we have no adequate means of hunting for him."

No human looking at the hologram could tell whether Plow Korn smiled at this point, but his words were friendly. "Fear not, my friend. When I combine efforts with my fellow up-siders, The Fuss will enable us to find the trail. Allow me first to land in or near your capital, so I can talk with some of your astronauts."

"To ask them if they know any abnormal space regions in the direction you'll be searching?"

"Got it in one."
 
Planet Srirachiss

Count Havabeer had visited the desert planet on four occasions when the Snarkonnens had enjoyed control of it; but at those times, he had never taken a ride on a habanero monster. When he requested a ride this time, he was given more positive reinforcement than he could have foreseen.

Lady Jazzica and her grandchildren took him along personally, showing him how the gigantic animals were induced to go where people wanted them to. The Count took no offense from the fact that all three Ashtrayides nobles were armed and wearing personal-shield generators, while he was unarmed and unshielded. Havabeer would have been at least equally cautious in their place. His own pride was adequately satisfied by showing his hosts that he had the agility and control to keep his balance throughout the ride, although he had never before been on a monster's back.

As all signs of human habitation dropped behind the rearward horizon, Jazzica opened the first serious conversation:

"I know that you are trained to resist being controlled by The Chatter; but my own reading of YOUR speech and your eye-movement reinforces the impression you've already given: that you are NOT up to any hostile schemes in this visit. And I have sensed actively good intentions from Princess Eerilake. So I am confident of receiving a truthful answer from you.

"I'm not sure if you understand this, but we are living in a sub-universe which is a variant upon a truly bizarre narrative. In that reality, the equivalent of The Jalapeno as we know it was absolutely impossible to produce anywhere else than on the equivalent of Srirachiss. This made every other planet in the Galactic Empire virtually insignificant."

"I should think so," said Havabeer. "Anyone writing stories about such a cosmos would find it almost impossible to make up anything that WASN'T always focused on the Jalapeno source. Which rather defeats the idea of portraying a UNIVERSE."

"Grandmother taught us," interjected Stillneater, "that our own reality is not very far removed from that other existence that she describes. In the reality we know-- as you are well aware-- a few other worlds can produce a synthetic version of The Jalapeno ; but the process of making it is terribly expensive, and the synthetic spice doesn't work as well as the real thing. So Srirachiss remains very important, just not SO indispensible that everyone is ready to kill everyone else because of it."

Havabeer nodded. "Yet the Naughtygators as we know them still are a gargantuan monopoly, because they control EVEN the synthetic Jalapeno production. Which is why Princess Eerilake decided, independently from the return of Groan Starr to the scene, that we needed the option of non-Jalapeno-dependent starships."

Gladiola's eyes widened. "That was her own idea? Mother always told us that Eerilake was a lazy, pampered lapdog."

Jazzica touched her granddaughter's arm. "I hate to criticize Grainy even slightly, but she DID resent Eerilake for wanting your father. In fact, the Princess is not as bad a person as you were encouraged to believe. And we should not reflexively reject her offer to help us with alternate interstellar transportation."

Count Havabeer bowed to Duke Neato's widow. "The more so since the Naughtygators will never cease to like House Snarkonnen better than they like House Ashtrayides."

Lady Jazzica, who did not know that her firstborn son had appeared to the visiting swordsman, said, "And where do you see yourself in this picture?"

Havabeer met Jazzica's gaze. He knew that she would know if he lied to her; but he still could choose what he WOULD say to her. "Lady Jazzica: between my wife leaving me with our having no children, and the old dynasty sputtering out, I need something new to be part of."
 
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A new location in the story

The planet Wawa, home of The Janitors of the Universe, was located in a galaxy other than our Milky Way: a galaxy having relatively few planets with life, but also a galaxy with plotline-convenient wormhole connections to more-populated galaxies.

At the Supreme Headquarters of the Green Flashlight Corps on Wawa, Katmatao, Supreme Exalted Poobah of the Corps, was receiving a report from Green Flashlight Indabog, the massive Chief Drill Instructor of new Green Flashlights.

"Master, another Flashlight has gone missing. Lucy Luminous, assigned to the sector containing De-Communized Earth, has apparently departed from her sector without leaving word. Even the immortal Spacer Swimmers, who share protectorship of that Earth, tell me they don't know where Lucy is now. But they were able to inform us that Lucy was last known to be pursuing a demon called Mugwumpa."

Katmatao scratched his bulbous head. "I believe I've heard of Mugwumpa. Has unnaturally long ears, I believe?"

"Arms, Master. Long arms. And a habit of turning sapient beings into zombies."

"Right. What about other missing Flashlights?"

Indabog went on reporting. No fewer than six other Flashlights not counting Lucy were unaccountably missing from their duty sectors, besides three who had gone silent longer ago. Katmatao decided to assemble all of the Janitors and try to find out out if the disappearances were all connected.

At this meeting, a Janitor named Yinzubra was the chief speaker. All three of the longest-missing Flashlights were trainees of hers. "Kra-Kra-Kofo, he's the one with purple tentacles, had ascertained that there was a cluster of inhabited worlds beyond the far end of the Red Streak Wormhole, none of which had ever been visited by any Green Flashlight. He decided to try to open contact with those worlds. When he didn't return to his usual sector after sixteen standard days, Flashlights from his neighboring sectors decided to investigate. Oodillipar, she's the eleven-foot-tall one, and (Squeak!)(Hummm!)(Squeak!), she's the pseudo-insectoid, decided to follow Kra-Kra-Kofo's trail through the wormhole.

"We all know that every Green Flashlight enjoys wide discretion in his or her movements. Kra-Kra-Kofo's absence was not long enough to rouse great alarm. But when Oodillipar and (Squeak!)(Hummm!)(Squeak!) set out to find Kra-Kra-Kofo, the very nature of their search argued for them to report progess. Indeed, (Squeak!)(Hummm!)( Squeak!) told me what she and Oodillipar were about, and said they would report at fairly close intervals. But they haven't---"

Yinzubra got no further before there was a flash of light which WASN'T green. Just like that, all nine Green Flashlights other than Lucy who had been unaccounted for, were standing there, safe and intact. With them were five persons from intelligent races unfamiliar to the Flashlight Corps. And in the midst of them all, as beautiful as ever, stood Marysuefire.

"All's well!" exclaimed the invincible good-girl. "I got all these Flashlights out of whatever trouble each was in. Those other five are volunteers from worlds beyond the Red Streak Wormhole, wanting to establish friendly relations with Planet Wawa. As for Lucy Luminous, she's unharmed, but has undertaken a new mission helping some space travelers. I also found out that Mugwumpa has been converted to the side of good, so the Flashlight Corps need not concern itself with her anymore."

Indabog was a being not easily startled or dismayed. He was the first Flashlight present to react. "Um, thank you, Marysuefire, I guess."

"No problem. This multi-layered storyline was complicated enough already, so I decided this was a good time for me to use my unbeatable awesomeness, and resolve this latest crisis without anyone suffering by it. Catch you later!" --and Marysuefire flashed back to the empty galaxy where she had previously been practicing her cautionary control over her own energies.

 
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Planet Punksteema
Sir Ronald of Goliad, the last of the Towermen, found himself with all his gear plunked down on the north continent. Judging by the sun in the sky, he was at a similar planetary longitude to where he had been in The Ominous Lands. The landscape around him could have been any of seven or eight nations in Arcondoyla: nations about which his knowledge was fragmented.

The Towerman did not speak any of the primary languages of Arcondoylan countries. But there were languages of convenience, used widely for diplomacy and commerce. The north continent had three such languages, and the south continent two. Ronald knew enough of all five to serve basic purposes.

He knew plenty about nature, too. The sight of a red-and-yellow songbird convinced him that he was in Bamulica: a country in the upper temperate latitudes, measuring over three hundred miles west to east, and almost two hundred north to south. Ronald recalled this being an uncentralized nation, with ten or twelve thanes dividing the rule. Bamulican towns had elected leaders, whose judgment the thanes usually respected in local affairs. It was particularly heartening for the hero to recall that none of the thanes had waged war against each other any time in the last six years.

A visual confirmation of where he had landed was forthcoming soon. Three horsemen approached him at an easy walk. They wore hussar-style uniforms, colored purple and white, but carried new-looking repeating carbines at a relaxed readiness. This matched what he knew of Bamulica, though different thanes differed in their emblematic colors. If he recalled correctly, purple and white were the colors of Malgriff Thanedom.

Keeping his hands in sight, well away from his holsters, Ronald tried one of the commerce-languages: "Well met, honorable soldiers! I am Ronald of Goliad, the last of Sir Edgar's Towermen." (He had resolved from the start to declare himself truthfully to people. After all, he was on a mission from God, like the Blues Brothers.) "Am I addressing the soldiers of Thane Jared?"

The eldest of the hussars replied, "Eight months ago, that would have been true." (Given the unnatural closeness of Punksteema's small moon, eight "months" for Punksteema was a shorter time than one month on Earth.) "His son Lawrence has been Thane since Jared resigned his title due to illness. But speaking of titles, you say that you are the last of the Towermen?"

"So I am. Wyatt Hickok, the last of my comrades, was shot in the back last winter; that would be last summer for you, of course."

The senior cavalryman gravely nodded. "A loss to the world. I believe you; tell me, though, are you fleeing from assassins, or are you hoping to recruit new gunslingers?"

"Closer to the second. But first of all, are there any Smoke Maidens in Bamulica?"

The youngest soldier drew some kind of packet out of his uniform blouse. "The only Smoke Maidens we have around here are these: Smoke Maiden cigars."

The third soldier added, "Yes, the cigars were named after the gunwomen; in fact, approved by the last Headwoman of the order."

The gunslinger-knight was taken aback. "LAST Headwoman? Were they also killed off?"

"Not as bad as that," the eldest horseman assured him. "But they split up. A few of them decided they wanted to devote their time to humiliating and intimidating men just for BEING men. A far greater number, while not renouncing their martial skills, wanted to have husbands, homes and children. And fifteen or twenty others have remained active against evil, without being hostile to men, but are no longer organized."

Ronald let out a sigh. "Are any women of the second or third categories to be found in the countries bordering Bamulica?"

"We know of some in Reslagor, that's due east. We hear that they all encourage their children of both sexes to learn firearm use. The girls might already have an idea of becoming new Smoke Maidens; I imagine that the boys would welcome an equal prospect for themselves."

"Thank you for the information, Captain--?"

"Captain John Telbroc. You're welcome. Towermen did noble deeds in our land in generations past."

"Then a question follows for me. Are there any current evils troubling Bamulica?"

The hussars looked at each other; then the eldest resumed speaking.

"Our own retired Thane..... has been having very strange dreams. If we were to bring you to the Thane's Keep, simply as an honored guest, perhaps you could pick up something without appearing to snoop. I hasten to specify that there is NO basis for believing that Lawrence could ever be treacherous to his father. That is the very least likely trail to follow for a cause of the elder Thane's trouble."

"I'll be honored to visit the Keep. And don't worry about my being on foot. Any Towerman on foot can march a horse into exhaustion."

"I'm sure we can hire a horse for you soon," said Captain Telbroc. "This will make it easier for us to talk further on the way."
 
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