Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

The first available mount for hire proved to be a mule, to which Ronald had no objection. In fact, the gunslinger gained such an immediate rapport with the animal that the owner exclaimed, "He's never been so tractable for me! One more silver piece, and he's yours to keep!" Ronald paid the extra coin himself, and Captain Telbroc generously declined to be reimbursed for what he had spent.

"Mules have better long-range endurance than horses," Ronald remarked to the hussars; "and that's what I need on a quest like this."

The soldier with the cigars told him, "There's a railway line in Reslagor, which runs to the next two countries east. All but the smallest passenger trains on that road have cars to carry people's riding animals."

By nightfall, they reached the nearest cavalry garrison. Its full-time personnel complement, counting Ronald's new friends but not counting service workers like cooks, was fifty-eight men. Telbroc introduced Ronald to Major David Zaptrim. The Major, who knew the history of Towermen, made Ronald feel welcome, and volunteered a bit of information: "The reason why a man of my seniority is at a garrison so small is because I'm also responsible for jurisdiction discussions with neighboring thanes' forces."

Over supper, Zaptrim revealed further that he had a female cousin, Jillian by name, who had been a Smoke Maiden but went into semi-retirement upon getting married. "Did her husband TELL her to quit?" Ronald asked.

"No. far from it. The husband, named Howard, is a diligent farmer, giving all his energy and thought to making his farm productive. He works nearly seventeen hours in every twenty-two, so he frankly is glad to have her on guard against any threat. Not that he's a coward or a weakling, understand. One time two ruffians offered violence to Jillian when she didn't have a gun with her, and Howard slew them both with his bare hands."

That night, sleeping in a hayloft, Ronald was visited in a dream by the immortal who had appeared in the guise of the peasant mother. "You have much business ahead of you, she told him, "so I'll give you a clue to help you in this immediate situation. Young Thane Lawrence IS NOT to blame for the trouble here; he is a true-hearted man, loyal to his father. Look elsewhere for evil."
 
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The garrison treated Ronald to breakfast in the morning, then sent him on his way toward the Thane's Keep with bread and sausage for his lunch. The mule found side trails for him when road traffic became heavy. Some of the traffic consisted of herds of sheep being driven to a shearing corral. In one case, just as he returned to the main road after his latest detour, the gunslinger heard two shepherds muttering to each other, saying that the new Thane had poisoned the old.

Maneuvering his mule closer to the two men, Ronald spoke in commanding tones: "No, Lawrence is NOT a traitor to his father! Lawrence is a faithful son, and has no idea why his father got sick."

The shepherds blinked, looked at Ronald, and echoed the statement of Lawrence's innocence, as if they had never believed any differently.

Ronald had three similar encounters as he rode along. The fourth, occurring within distant sight of the Keep, involved more people than the ones before it. After the gunslinger vindicated Lawrence this latest time, several of the locals ran up a lane. Dismounting from his mule, Roland asked those who had not run off, "Where are they going?" A young woman with blonde hair, which was rare in this country, answered, "They're going to a telegraph office, to send word that the new Thane has been proven innocent!"

Ronald perked up at the reference to the telegraph. "You have telegraph service here now?"

"Yes, the office is in the same direction those people just ran."

"Thank you;" and Ronald started to walk in that direction, leading the mule so it could rest from carrying him.

The young woman hurried after him, so as to say, "You're kind to your animal. That's the sign of a good man."

"Thank you for saying so. It's also plain good sense to take good care of a beast my life could someday depend on."

She tossed her hair charmingly. "Are you a bounty hunter?"

He peered at her more closely. "Are bounty hunters the only men other than soldiers whom you've seen carrying firearms?"

"No, some perfectly ordinary men, and an occasional woman, carry guns. But you have the manner of a bounty hunter about you. Like maybe you're hunting for someone right now."

Ronald let out a sigh. "I have hunted foes more than once. But right now, I'm hunting for FRIENDS. That's why I want to send some telegrams of my own."
 
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The blonde woman finally left Ronald in peace, and he proceeded to the telegraph office. Inside, there was a poster listing the places which could be reached by telegrams from this office. The gunslinger was favorably impressed, and decided it would be worth waiting here in Malgriff Thanedom to be sure of receiving any replies.

He asked the operator, a middle-aged woman with a deeply-tanned face: "Do you have lists of official personages in the lands your service covers? My business is of such a nature, that I would want my actions to be openly known by lawful authorities."

"That reference book over there is what you need to consult. The one with the red leather cover."

"Thank you." But Ronald had barely started searching through the pages before the operator spoke again.

"You must be the stranger who reported that Thane Lawrence was proven innocent!"

"Yes, I reported this, because a good spirit so informed me."

The operator gave an unquestioning nod. "All right, that makes sense."

Ronald had long experience with people trusting his word because he was a knight; but it felt strange being believed by people who didn't know him at all, didn't have any special basis for believing what he said. Even though he was in fact speaking the truth; even though he knew that this effect would not occur UNLESS he spoke the truth; it still was unnerving. He was doing no wrong to anyone, yet he FELT as if he were taking advantage of people. Now, there's a thought. If I should speak a HALF-truth, intended to produce a benefit for myself-- like, if I tried to make that young woman fall in love with me by way of a misleading partial fact....?

That way lies corruption! Even a desire which is not wrong in itself could BECOME wrong, by my pursuing it in a dishonorable way. Lord God, You Who hold authority over all spirits, do not even PERMIT me to desire unjust gain from this gift I was given!

One silver piece was enough to let him send telegrams to heads of law enforcement in Reslagor and three other countries east of Balumica, explaining who and what he was, and his desire to revive the Order of Towermen, with promise of his being allowed to message back to anyone who replied to his initial sending. This done, he returned to his mule, reckoning that he had better expect to hear from the local authorities in a hurry. He stood in the street waiting. He didn't have to wait long.

An open carriage came into view, drawn by a pair of camelopards: the name given to an Arcondoylan mammal which was like a small giraffe. In a comfortable rear seat sat a robed man with many-ringed fingers. Two liveried men sat in front; one carried a bolt-action carbine like those of the Malgriff hussars, and the one holding the reins had a holstered sidearm which resembled an Original Earth Colt 1911 semi-automatic .45 caliber pistol. The last man's holster had its top strap loosened. Ronald folded his arms across his chest; this position, again, kept his hands away from his revolvers, yet was not a meekly submissive posture.

He was standing where no bullet fired at him would hit his mule. There's a verse in the Book of Proverbs, saying that a righteous man has regard for the life of his beast.

Halting very close, the robed man harrumphed at Ronald: "What are you up to, stranger? How are you qualified to judge the affairs of Malgriff Thanedom?"

"Whoever you are," answered Ronald, "I can only assume that you have some objection to my declaring that Lawrence Malgriff is innocent of treason against his father."

"I object to anyone defending a disloyal son. Men, place him under arrest!"

Without moving, Ronald boomed, "Thane Lawrence IS innocent!"

As soon as he said this, the carriage driver exclaimed, "Of course! I should have known it all along!" The rifleman added, "I know Lawrence; he loves and reveres his father."

The robed man grew red-faced. "Quit babbling, fools! Arrest the stranger!"

The liveried men looked at Ronald, not like arresting officers, but like students hoping to hear wisdom from a teacher. The Towerman told them, "I do not know the motives of this angry man, but I do know that you would do well to inquire WHY he wants Thane Lawrence to be accused."

Less than a minute later, the robed man-- who proved to be a high-level judge-- was himself under arrest, though not handled roughly; and Ronald was being asked to meet with the nearest other authority figures available.
 
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Ushered courteously into the Keep, and returning the politeness by voluntarily surrendering his weapons, Ronald learned which authority figures were to interview him. They proved more than sufficient in prestige.

It was immediately apparent that this was a family affair. Thane Lawrence, the man wrongly accused of turning against his father, had bright yellow hair. So did his mother, Lady Priscilla Malgriff; and so did his sister Lady Dorothy-- the same woman who had conversed with Ronald not long before.

Also present was an officer in purple and white, with a bemedalled chest, introduced as Colonel Roger Zaptrim, Chief Commander of Hussars, and elder brother to the David Zaptrim whom Ronald had already met. (Ronald recalled reading once that no military leader in Bamulica was ever called a "general" unless he was leading the combined forces of a majority of the thanedoms.) While the others held back a bit, the Colonel stepped up to shake Ronald's hand. "You are most heartily welcome, Sir Ronald of Goliad! It has been too long since a Towerman walked openly in any part of Arcondoyla. Sadly, even our own Smoke Maidens have lately faded into the background. We remember them when we smoke the cigars named after them, but this isn't much comfort."

"Colonel-- and you, Thane of Malgriff, and you ladies-- my reason for coming across the Equatorial Ocean is the hope of reviving the Towermen, and if possible the Smoke Maidens as well. My last important activity before leaving Wellvernia was to deal with some unpleasant carnivorous beasts; this was a case of completing unfinished business, leaving me free in conscience to depart my own continent for yours."

Now the young Thane, spoke for himself: "As for that, the manner of your coming is a curiosity for us. As far as we know, nobody in any neighboring thanedom-- and Malgriff is located centrally in Bamulica, so no one CAN come to us without passing through, or flying over, another thanedom-- ever saw you before you popped up like a mushroom in the middle of my domain."

"That, my lord, is because I was transported here by good faerie-magic. Certain immortals, obedient to Almighty God, instantaneously projected me to Bamulica and to Malgriff Thanedom. And before they sent me across the ocean, they declared a gift to me: that I would always be believed if I spoke the truth."

"Which explains all the people suddenly rushing about proclaiming your innocence, Brother," said Dorothy to Lawrence. She smiled warmly at Ronald, though she had removed from her smile the hint of flirting which had been there at their first meeting.

For the best, I suppose. I can't even start to think about marriage until I achieve my task.

"Sir Knight, can you also discern if others ARE NOT speaking the truth?" asked Lady Priscilla.

Ronald shrugged. "Only to the extent that any intelligent man can do so if he pays attention. For instance, the pupils of a man's eyes tend to shrink when he is lying. I cannot boast infallibility in this."

"Nonetheless," Lawrence told Ronald, "I request your participation in the questioning of the High Justiciar." The Thane used a bell-pull to signal whoever was presumably holding on to the arrogant judge. Moments later, the robed man--minus all his jewelry-- was hauled into the chamber by a man and a large woman who wore uniforms different from those of the hussars. Ronald assumed that these were the police. They made the High Justiciar sit on a wooden stool: crudely made, but sturdy enough to support his bulk.

"William Sparrek," said Lawrence, "I am innocent of causing either my father's recent bodily weakness, or his nightmares. There are, accordingly, two possibilities. Either you were deceived by liars, or you are the liar yourself. Whichever is the case, you will meet with far more mercy if you speak the truth now, than if you try to deceive or misdirect me. Why did you accuse me publicly of harming my father?"

"I cannot be treated as a criminal!" snapped William Sparrek. "I invoke the immunity of the independent judiciary! An independent judiciary is the heart of all justice!"

"False!" barked Colonel Zaptrim. "The heart of justice is that all people can be held accountable for crimes they may commit, ESPECIALLY holders of high office, including justiciars! This, along with presumption of innocence in a trial."

"The meaning of 'independent jucidiary' comes to us from Original Earth," added Ronald. "It means that a true judge will not let himself be bribed or threatened into making decisions which he knows to be wrong. That's what's meant by 'independent' in this context; it never meant being IMMUNE to consequences for malfeasance in office."

"Thank you, Colonel; thank you, Sir Knight." Lawrence nodded to both men. "William, I shall sweeten the offer of clemency. If you will tell the whole truth now, you shall suffer no penalty beyond losing your title and office."

"But what if he's been a party to murder?" Dorothy asked her brother.

"I greatly doubt that he has descended that low, Sister." Looking back at William: "If you have had a hand in murder, but you confess now, you shall merely serve seven years in prison, with parole possible. If you are guilty of blood and you DON'T confess now, you shall die a most creative death. But this, only if a fair trial results in a guilty verdict. Thank you for reminding me of that, Colonel."
 
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"Lord Thane," said Ronald, "please do not condemn your High Justiciar merely for being an obnoxious oaf. So far, unless you know things I never heard about, Master Sparrek is guilty of no more than wanting to believe the worst about you."

Justiciar Sparrek looked at Ronald with an enigmatic expression, but said nothing. Ronald continued: "If he has been in any way conspiring against the House of Malgriff, he would surely have henchmen-- or even a master."

"Do you have a suggestion, then?" asked Lawrence.

"I don't know anyone here," said Ronald, "nor do I know the details of your laws. But as you may have decided for yourself already, the Justiciar needs to be kept isolated, so that if he IS working for evil with someone, they can't communicate. If you have any errand to ask of me in this matter, I am at your disposal."

"I have an idea," Dorothy put in. "It is one which would not require our virtuous Towerman to lie to anyone...."

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

Soon afterwards, the same two officers who had brought in the Justiciar, were seeing Ronald out. All of his weapons were being carried by two household servants who walked behind. The policewoman, however, whispered in his ear as they went: "If you plan to stay in Malgriff, and you have no sweetheart at present, I'm available."

"If I don't come looking for you," Ronald whispered back, "please don't take it personally. I have no fear of strong women, but my current mission leaves me no time for ANY sort of romance."

A postern door of the Keep opened, and the police officers pretended to shove Roland out. He in turn pretended to stumble a little. The male constable shouted loudly, "Remember, outsider, you have no authority in questions of the Thane's justice!" The servants emerged then, and gave Roland his weapons back. A third servant brought Roland's mule around to the postern. Roland quietly thanked them, as he re-holstered his guns, hung axe and poniard in their places, and hung the heavy crossbow and its quiver on his back.

Then, still feeling no need to mount, the gunslinger led his mule along the carriage driveway, back into the surrounding town. He had not lied, the Thane's officers had not lied, no one WOULD lie. But perhaps, as long as there was a vague public impression of him falling out of the Thane's favor, somebody might approach the stranger.
 
Passing along a street of shops and produce vendors, Ronald watched all directions. One thing he was watching for was a possible escape route, if someone were to shoot at him. This caution balanced his hope of being approached by someone who could reveal something about the High Justiciar. There was no particular cause to expect that anyone WOULD shoot at him; but if anyone did, he must attempt to avoid letting bystanders be in the line of fire.

Just at a time when there was no alley or doorway reachable, the mule uttered an agitated snort. Ronald's survival instincts kicked in, and his powerful physique made the best of his instincts' warning. WIth a standing high jump which would have been respectable in a gymnastics routine on Original Earth, his feet landed on the mule's saddle. From there, scarcely pausing, he leaped higher, to catch the edge of a roof and pull himself up. A gunshot sounded: someone reacting too late to Ronald's evasive maneuver. The bullet struck the front wall of the brick house whose roof the Towerman was mounting. Civilians began screaming.

Reaching the far side of the roof's peak, he flattened himself and rolled sideways, till he was at one end of the single-story house. The next house was two stories-- and had an open second-floor window facing him. He dived across the gap and through the window; but the window frame knocked his arbalest out of its place on his back. Resettling the weapon as he moved, Roland hurried to find the stairs, shouting at the occupants: "Just passing through! Stay inside!"

Bursting out the front door, he saw three men with handguns of some kind, all peering up at the rooftop where he had been. He tossed his hat toward where he had crossed the roof's peak; all three would-be killers reflexively fired at it. This gave Ronald the moment he needed to squeeze through the crowd, reaching a point behind his enemies. The back of his axehead smashed onto each gunman's head in turn, fast enough to put out their lights before even the last one could respond to any effect, while not striking hard enough to kill.

"Someone call the constables!" Ronald shouted in the commerce-language; a bunch of merchants ought to know it. He still was glancing in all directions for signs of any additional threat, but saw nothing.

Letting them think I was out of the Thane's favor didn't induce them to try to enlist me, but it did make them bold enough to attack me. And their not caring that they endangered these innocent citizens argues that they may not be residents of Malgriff Thanedom.

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

Ronald had little part in the investigation which followed, but he was let in on the findings.

High Justiciar William Sparrek had not been acting for any internal faction of malcontents; nor had he been serving the interests of any other Bamulican Thane. Only just barely in time to receive clemency and a light sentence from Lawrence Malgriff, the false judge confessed that he had been an agent for a self-exiled Bamulican noblewoman dwelling in Reslagor: an envious cousin of the retired Thane Jared, named Selma. When Jared had declined to marry Selma and make her the Lady of Malgriff Thanedom, she had accepted the proposal of a wealthy Reslagorian businessman called Armando Casador. From Reslagor, Selma had kept informed of the family's doings in Bamulica.... and had finally conceived a mad plan to create a power vacuum that she could somehow exploit.

Her agents had covertly poisoned Thane Jared, "punishing" him for spurning Selma's past advances. The subtle poison, a formula not fatal except in very large doses, had caused Jared's nightmares as well as his illness. With all of this disclosed, Lawrence was delighted to yield his temporary lordship back to his recuperating father.

Before the gunslinger-knight left Malgriff Thanedom enroute to depart Bamulica, Lady Dorothy came closer than he would ever have expected to expressing romantic feelings for him. "You'll need to detour around Reslagor now," she told Ronald. "Lady Selma has many friends there, because she adds color to their drab society. And Mister Casador is extremely influential in Reslagor. In recent years, that country has developed something called 'evil business corporations,' and he controls one."

Ronald blinked. "What's an evil business corporation?"

"It's like free enterprise, without the freedom. Lots of countries, mine included, have privately-owned businesses; they even have people buying shares of other people's investment stocks. But these 'evil business corporations' don't seem to HAVE any business except harming people. Don't ask me to explain it, somehow they simply ARE that way."

Dorothy paused, then added: "It feels as if someone, someplace, was writing a novel, and he wanted to put some frightening evildoers in the story, without devoting much effort to explaining how they BECAME so evil. And as if this writer's novel has become real on Punksteema. If you pass through Reslagor, or travel on any conveyance owned by a Reslagorian 'evil business corporation,' you'll be in danger. So just avoid them, please."
 
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Rejoining the Moonbase Alpo crew

Green Flashlight Lucy Luminous had resolved to use her spaceflight ability for the benefit of the space-lost humans on the insanely self-propelling Moon. One day, she returned to Moonbase Alpo in great excitement, and hastened to report to Base Commander Roland Foote. Other personnel were listening in, for the news was not to be kept secret.

"I discovered an oxygen-atmosphere planet, liveable for humans, with no current native intelligent species. The absence of prior civilization would be the reason why the Flashlight Corps hasn't paid it much attention; it also means that there are no sapient natives whom you would be wronging by settling there. If I can use my Flashllght power to modify the Moon's own plotline-convenient self-driving, we hopefully can insert the Moon into a stable orbit; let if BE this new planet's moon."

Versaderma the gorgeous shape-changer spoke up: "Let me be on the first exploratory trip to the surface! I can explore land, sea and air!"

In the event, Lucy succeeded in guiding the Moon into a permanent orbit, and the Moonbase people were able to establish a planetside base, the promising start of a new human society. As an added plus, now that the wanderers had a new home, Lucy would be able to leave them, report to the Janitors of the Universe on Planet Wawa, and later check back on her friends before going home to her own Earth. Other Green Flashlights would visit the Moonbase Alpo pioneers periodically to make sure they were all right.

But Roland Foote felt a disquiet which he kept to himself. Somehow, this Earth-like world SEEMED to him as if it should have had a moon of its own. So where could that original moon have gotten to?

Meanwhile, Roland's wife, the chief scientist, hit on a name for the new planet, one which the others accepted. Suggested by the phrase "the latter days," she named their new home Latterdawn.
 
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On the fourth day after the first landing on Latterdawn, Versaderma transformed herself into an ostrich, to run across the grassy plains which constituted much of the landscape within a fifty-mile radius of their landing site. There had of course already been overhead surveying of the terrain, but the shape-changer wanted to see the native life-forms close up. In case of danger, she could change to a flying bird and escape.

Even though AsaLion had created her ex nihilo on board the Moonbase, Versaderma's brain held realistic memories of growing up on a planet resembling this one, except that she remembered her supposed former homeworld having three moons. She knew that this was done to make her a true character in The Never-Stopping Story; but it was unsettling to realize just HOW convincing the imaginary memories were. They were so realistic, that she knew she had felt awfully confined on the Moonbase, compared to the landscapes of her imaginary childhood. She reminded herself of AsaLion's assurance that although she was in a story, she did really exist, and would enter the afterlife after her bodily death.

Somehow she knew that there was a saying on Original Earth: "God created people because He loves stories."

All of the land-walking animals Versaderma beheld, herbivores or carnivores, were smaller than herself; the largest ones she observed were no bigger than a half-grown Earthly pig. And all of them were plainly built for speed; in fact, many types proved able to run faster than she could. She would have changed into a flight-capable bird for safety, if not for the fact that all the animals were afraid of her, and avoided her.

So she continued her exploration, until she discovered what seemed to be a ROAD. The recon pilots had noticed this, and wondered if there had been someone to BUILD a road; but at close range, it clearly was not the work of any sort of people.

Trees and bushes were destroyed along a twenty-yard-wide straight strip of ground, looking as if they had been chewed by thousands of miniature beavers. The swath of devastation ran absolutely arrow-straight from horizon to horizon; its direction wouid not bring it close to the human settlement at any point.

Not THIS path of destruction, anyway.

Then Versaderma noticed the bones. Bare bones, all softer tissue gone, bones bleaching in the sunlight. Next, she noticed ONE kind of dead creature which had not been eaten-- for something eating something was what those dead bones suggested to her. Here and there lay complete, but crushed, specimens of what looked like ants eight or nine inches long. Like army ants on Earth! Some of them always get crushed to death by the animals they devour.

Suppressing revulsion, she scooped up in her beak one of the less-utterly-squashed ant-like things, and ran full tilt for home, to show it to the science personnel.

That's why all the animals are fast runners! Natural selection DE-selects any creature that CAN'T get out of reach of the swarms!

Projected course of action for us? We could simply stay on the Moon for purposes of permanent residence, only landing below to mine useful ores, and gather foodstuffs which don't require us to be constantly on the planet as farmers. But the fact that I'm carrying a DEAD bug proves that they're not indestructible. Many options for us, like electrified barriers, or sound waves that repel the things. Even living on islands, if we can be sure that the bugs can't swim.

Versaderma suddenly felt something like patriotism surging in her heart. No disgusting bugs will get the better of us!
 
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Since my first "Space 1999" spoof-post seems somehow to have deleted itself, I must arbitrarily rename the equivalent of Barbara Bain's character from the TV show.

==================================================================

The Moonbase was not going to be shut down as long as the settlers on Latterdawn could keep spacecraft running. Accordingly, Chief Scientist Barbara Brainy, wife of the Base Commander, spent plenty of time on the Moon, using the electronic systems already in place there to continue surveillance of surrounding space.

Thus, she was the first person to detect an unidentified energy signature bearing down on Moonbase Alpo.

When she mentioned this to her assistant Salamandra, the younger woman groaned, "Oh, felgercarb, not ANOTHER omnipotent unbeatable super-alien! Can't we ever catch a break?"

Just as Barbara was beginning to call the surface, calling became superfluous. A robed, bald-headed humanlike being, some ten feet tall, materalized inside the surveillance center with the two women. "Greetings, humans! I am simultaneously projecting an image of myself to your people on the planet. I am known as The Looker-At-Things, and I decided you would want to know the reason why this planet had no moon for several years until yours arrived here."

"You imply that it DID have a moon before," said Barbara. "So what happened to that moon?"

"It was eaten." The Looker went theatrically silent after saying this much.

Barbara and Salamandra could hear Barbara's husband, Commander Foote, prompting the super-alien: "All right, you've roused our interest already! WHAT ate the previous moon??"

"It was an EXTRA-super-duper alien, called Galactikang. He eats worlds. He could in fact be nourished by eating uninhabited planets; but he pretends that he 'needs' to eat worlds with life on them, because he simply LIKES destroying and killing."

"Let me guess, " muttered Salamandra. "He claims to be 'above good and evil'."

"Afraid so. He proved he could be nourished by non-living matter when he devoured this planet's moon-- as a snack. He moved along then, because he wasn't very hungry at the time. There's no predicting if and when he'll come back to eat the planet itself."

"But let me guess," muttered Barbara; "if he does come after us, you won't bother belping us, because cosmic balance or some such nonsense."

"Afraid so," The Looker confirmed. "It is my mystical duty to let evildoers do anything they like, while never helping good people."

"So why even tell us about Galactikang?" Roland Foote asked from the planetary surface.

"You know, I'm not sure. Maybe because somebody someplace thinks that stories are better if good people are unable to do anything, and have to wait helplessly for evil to strike. Like in almost every horror movie made after 1980."

Barbara had a thought at this point. "Then can you at least tell us how to deal with the flesh-eating insects on this planet? You know, so that we can stay alive TO be waiting in helpless fear for Galactikang to come and annihilate us?"

"All right, I suppose I can do that much. Here, I'll download to your computers all the information you'll need on how to keep the insect swarms away from your settlement."

"We'll take what we can get," sighed Barbara.
 
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>>> On Seedubb, State of York-Jersey, south of Urbanopolis:

The Face Twisters Underhandy and Slywink asked the girl gangsters Yasmina and Rosita to leave the hideout and go shopping for ordinary supplies. "Just plain shopping?" was Rosita's reaction; and Yasmina added, "No robbing anyone?"

Underhandy explained, "We have enough money, with random serial numbers, to buy stuff. We don't want to ruin our lying low by unnecessary crimes."

"Besides," the male Face Twister put in, "I want to get more practice at appearing old. I'll pretend to be you three girls' grandfather."

When those four departed, Scarycroak, El Ogro Feo and Opposite Whoosh looked over the shoulders of Captain Airplane, while he sat before a Lazytaxie-improved laptop to log into the Everyweb (as the internet was called on this Earth). Although the Dune-parody sub-universe the Face Twisters came from had abolished artificial intelligence (people on Srirachiss had looked the other way for Bot Index, because she was a companion to royalty), the information technology on any 21st-century Earth was lowly enough to slip under the radar of this prohibition. Underhandy had ensured that no Earthly web-search could home in on this computer. So Captain Airplane visited news pages, reading every article he could find about superheroes hunting for those super-villains who were still at large.

He and El Ogro both were a bit miffed that Opposite Whoosh was discussed prominently in the articles, while Ogro and Airplane went unmentioned. But Airplane immediately stifled his own annoyance, and turned his attention to smoothing the giant's ruffled feathers. Opposite Whoosh, for once, was not hasty to speak; he realized that it would be precisely a "humble" non-superpowered criminal who could best mollify the hulking villain. If Opposite Whoosh appeared to regard Ogro as a juvenile sore-loser type, a fight might ensue; Opposite Whoosh probably would win easily, but you never knew. And why cause dissension in the ranks?

"Don't forget, Ogro, " said Airplane, "they don't even know you're north of the border. They do know that Scarycroak and I are in the States, but .they're not mentioning us either."

Ogro saw the sense in this, and calmed down. "Es verdad, amigo. But they WILL know that El Ogro is here, when the time comes for action! I am the man who defeated Spiderweb-Man, Captain Patriot, Luchador Hidalgo and Evening-Wing!"

"A note of caution," said Scarycroak; "your victories over those men all occurred in the months while OUR side had control of the Anti-Villain Device, and could use its influence against the good guys. As I understand, the last two heroes did better against you than the first two did, BECAUSE the first two are enhanced, and so suffered more interference from the device than the last two did."

Opposite Whoosh spoke tactfully here: "Everything I've accomplished since the good guys regained possession of the Anti-Villain Device has gone much harder for me than it would have gone if WE still had the Device in our service. Overconfidence on our side is a weapon for the other side."
 
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>>> Elsewhere in the U.S.A. of Seedubb Earth:

Groan Starr knew he had the Fuss power to detect evil, but it wasn't finely calibrated. In the course of his time flying with Cyberdork, he detected eight shoplifters, five motorists making illegal turns, two others speeding by a margin of more than five m.p.h., three uncommonly malicious gossip-spreaders, one golfer lying about his score, seventeen telemarketers, and six fans of the band Nickelback. They eventually stopped to rest in Central Municipality, which was in Missouri northwest of Saint Louis. Cyberdork bought a high-protein smoothie, which his minimal flesh-component could easily digest, and treated Groan to a solid supper. Still getting over the tedious vegan meals he and his crew had eaten while traveling with Santiago the animal rescuer, Groan had a triple bacon cheeseburger with chili fries.

Kids and adults in the restaurant asked for Cyberdork's autograph. He obliged with both hand-written signatures, and electronic messages beamed right into people's devices. Groan was perfectly happy to be overlooked while he devoured his food; but eventually, some customers began to take notice of him also.

A teenage boy asked him, "Aren't you the guy in the new Indianapolis Johnson movie?" The boy's friend scoffed, "Wrong! He's an Elvis Wesley imitator!"

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

Meanwhile, up in Generic Large City, The Whoosh finally had the peace and quiet to enjoy a date with Irish North. They went dancing; and with every song they danced to, The Whoosh was able to dance closely with Irish, and at the SAME time zip away to do fancy John Travolta disco-solo routines, and always get back to Irish before she could be conscious of his having moved away from her. Without spoiling the evening for his girlfriend, Whoosh was thus able to satisfy himself that his Quickness Force was back at maximum. No lingering weakness from the bad months when the Anti-Villain Device had been in bad-guy hands.

Trala-Lalia and Bunkem Isotope were at the same nightclub. Their own dancing was remarkably similar to Earthly social dancing, except that Bunkem had to persuade Trala not to juggle daggers while they danced.

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

Meanwhile, at the hospital in Kansas where he was stuck recuperating, Doctor Unusual hit upon a way that he could speed his recovery without damaging the cause-and-effect matrix. He told the hospital staff what he was going to do: "The other bed in this room has been empty the whole time I've been here. Just KEEP it empty. Starting day after tomorrow, I'll jump back in time to today, and my later self will use the other bed. All you need to do is look after both of me, and remember which one is the later me."

The sorceror gave the staff half an hour to pass the word around. Ten minutes after this, his own self, wearing the same neck brace, appeared in the vacant bed, and said to the younger self, "Yes, it all went well, and they will keep track of which one of us is the later us. Or should I say, they HAVE BEEN keeping track. Best case, we'll be fully ambulatory within three days after the jump-back moment."
 
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More changes of scene

On Urth, spaceship construction following the Senphatorian designs was proceeding well. But even with Adam and Proxima Straightup hurrying hither and thither giving guidance, and superheroes lending physical aid where it would help, Rome really wasn't built in a day. Atomic Scalp departed the Maquoketa Caves for a while, catching a ride aboard a cargo jet with a specially insulated interior, to go to one of the least advantaged of all nations trying to build spaceships: the mountainous Asian realm of Nepal. At least on THIS Earth-variant, China was NOT going to be allowed to think it could invade Nepalese territory with impunity; Scalpie purposely made a big deal of his intention to stay among the Nepalese people for many days.

His contribution to the actual shipbuilding program naturally involved his continuous flame --which, with sufficient concentration, he could use for welding large metal components together. And he was strong enough to carry heavy objects around by hand, if at any time all the cranes and large forklifts were busy elsewhere.

Neither Scalpie himself, nor his fellow super-crooks in the Gang of Naughty Persons, had ever had occasion to commit any of their crimes in any part of the Himalayan Mountain Range; so the Nepalese people had not learned to feel any special dread of him. As a matter of fact, he did not look any more grotesque than some of the mythic monster-images of the Indian subcontinent, such as Ravana, the demonic foe of the Hindu god Rama. Scalpie's popular acceptance was facilitated when, on one day off from his shipyard labors, he climbed up into a high pass blocked by a snowslide, and turned the obstructing snow into steam.

After this and other goodwill-generating activities, Atomic Scalp noticed a change among the locals: one which pleased and yet frustrated him. Exotically lovely Nepalese women, usually needing English-speaking Gurkha soldiers to interpret for them, took to asking him whether he was able to turn off his flame and be more human. He always had to reply in the negative; and with each new beauty who questioned him, he felt worse about not so far being able to revert to full humanity. Some well-meaning fellows among his new Nepalese friends urged him to try becoming one with the universe. Unfortunately, this got him nowhere.

When he had done all he could for the shipbuilders, he went on Nepalese television, and in a subtitled broadcast thanked everyone who had made him feel welcome. He also told the audience that his actual name was Martin Alpert. Then the insulated aircraft came to fetch him back to America. For all the good it did him, he left hundreds of mountain women dreaming that he became normal and married them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Martin / Scalpie supposed that he needed something to take him outside of himself, to divert him from self-pity. In a way, the sojourn in Nepal HAD taken him outside of himself; but then the friendly attentions of Nepalese women had put him back INSIDE himself--back inside his own frustration. But after settling back into his lodging in Maquoketa Caves, he began catching up on the home news. It was mostly good; it included a report that Superhottie had captured the monstrous villain, Scalpie's former comrade, Sullivan Grungy. Not needed for any combative duties at this time, the definitive hot-head had a good talk with Pastor Obed Whippler about his trip.

The preacher told him: "For as long as you have to endure this emotional isolation from other people, you might be able to USE it: make lemonade from the lemons, by letting others benefit from your impartial objectivity."

Sighing through his flames, Atomic Scalp replied, "I guess I did feel some of that in Nepal. But can I be useful to others in a way that isn't about my mixed blessing of power and yuckiness?"

"At least within the circle of your fellow superheroes. In fact, I think you can be useful, right now, to a particular man who HAS been very good to you."

If this could be said of a burning man, Scalpie brightened. "You mean Greg, don't you?"-- referring to Vigilant Cowboy. The minister nodded, holding out a smartphone.

Scalpie read the message sent by his compassionate friend: Pastor, I got me news that I don't know is it good or ain't it. Ruby Spruce, the gal who decided she didn't want me because Superdude saved her from cancer, even though Superdude didn't feel no interest in her EXCEPT saving her life, drove to my ranch yesterday, unannounced-like, after all these years, and out of the clear blue she begged me to forgive her and take her back. I told her to give me a week to decide if I could stand the sight of her; and that's the way I put it, because if she won't really face up to how she hurt me, then she'll just hurt me again if I give her the chance. She cried a lot but agreed. I need advice, should I take her back. Won't do it no-how if she don't convince me she means it for certain-sure; but I need to decide if I'll risk another go-round.

Scalpie instantly remembered the man who had certified his conversion to goodness. He texted back to Vigilant Cowboy:

Greg, it's me, Martin. I'm back from Nepal, and Pastor Whippler showed me your text about Ruby. Here's what I say. After she treated you like dirt, she owes you some respect for your feelings, including your feelings of suspicion about her sincerity now. Fortunately, there's a way to PROVE her sincerity, the same way Banshee, Sapphire and I had our own sincerity proven. If Ruby won't submit to being mind-scanned by Professor Crazier, you'll know she's a phony. But if he does read her mind, and finds honest contrition there, finds that she values you for yourself and is kicking herself for leaving you, then you've got grounds for optimism.
 
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Far away in space, the anti-god Kuth-Hula-Hoop placed Zoot Booter's gang, with the half-dozen Greedorks, in a new spaceship, and implanted in their minds the necessary procedures to operate it. When one of the Greedorks timidly asked where Kuth-Hula-Hoop obtained the ship, the eldritch fiend replied: Beings like you, from a planet you never heard of, worshiped me, and prospered for a time. Then they fancied that they didn't need me anymore. So now their ship is available for your use. This is all you really want to know.

All of the outlaws, of both species, agreed that they didn't need to know any more. But Zoot asked where they were now.

No problem there. I've moved you to a sub-reality where you won't have to deal with hostile Fuss users, who obviously are above your league. And you will finally be reunited with Dark Headgear; I gave him options for his own destination, and he decided he'd rather join you here. The nearest inhabitable world to you is human-settled; but you Greedorks needn't worry, because these humans have a ridiculous level of decency, and they know there are other sapient races. You will find a situation in which you can win the favor of the colonists, and I assure you that, before long, you will see possible opportunities to enrich yourselves. This, not at the expense of the locals, but at the expense of a military force which will be there in the near future. The spacecraft of this military force are less advanced than yours, so you'll have a good chance to give them the slip if you need to flee from them. And of course you'll have the plotline-convenient ability to speak the language of the settlers.

Good luck. The more harm you do to anyone good, the less I'm likely to find you expendable.

"So you're not going to help us on the ground?" asked the she-pirate Grammurnatzia.

No. Having Dark Headgear with you should be enough. The soldiers whom you will eventually meet are so supercharged with goodness and heroism that even I would be uncomfortable anywhere near a large number of them. Sort of like the Nazgul King feeling uneasy at the approach of the Rohirrim, even though they were mere mortals.

"Rohirrim? Nazgul?" echoed Bongbunk.

Never mind. You should be all right. Go ahead now and be criminals.

So Zoot Booter set an approach course for the frontier planet. Before long, Dark Headgear's ship hailed him, coming up to fly in formation. Then they began calling Planet Freesoil. Fifteen minutes before entering atmosphere, a reply came:

"Whoever you are, if you can kill Creepycrawlids, we need you! Landing coordinates follow!"

The word "Creepycrawlids" gave both Zoot and Slick a fair hint of what they had to do to gain the affection of the colonists. They directed all sensors to search the planet's surface for anything that looked like horrible people-eating monsters. Once Zoot found what had to be Creepycrawlids, he programmed the ship's four air-to-surface missiles to strike the rear-middle of the swarm, well clear of the besieged human settlement. This killed more than half of all insectoid monsters that were visible in the area. (Slick's ship had no such missiles.)

"Small arms and body armor, everyone!" Zoot barked. "We'll put down and enfilade the bugs from one side!"

Zoot landed in such a way that, once at rest on the ground, the ship's forward lasers could fire one devastating barrage at those Creepycrawlids near the settlement's gate, without hitting the humans or their structures. Dark Headgear's ship did likewise. Then the crews piled out to open fire with handheld weapons, creating a right-angle crossfire with the guns being fired by the colonists.
 
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In Area 42, in the Nevada of "Terra," Colonel Rick Flakjacket still had not gotten over his astonishment from the day before yesterday, when Sky Lioness and Conn Johstantine had exorcised the influence of Screendoormammu out of Hamhanda Blubber. Hamhanda somehow had lost eighty pounds in the course of the exorcism, and was a lot better-looking, though no one had time to think about this fact for now. Grateful for the sinister program of lies about America to have been cut short, the Colonel was trying to return the favor by obtaining support for Katuva . The Yoruba Nation heroine would soon have a fresh charge of her "migrating" magic," and would be flying back to West Africa: to determine what had happened with Captain Sha-Na-Na, and to help the Brickhawks get their helicopters back.

+ + + + + + + + + + +

In the Los Angeles of the Earth where the band Skinny Leopard existed, that Earth's version of Stevie Ray Vaughn had scored a triumph: persuading a studio's worth of rap artists to join the pro-true-love campaign. He was on his way, riding a light-rail train, to meet these artists for dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant, The Abyssinian Delight.

When a middle-aged woman entered the crowded car, Stevie rose to offer her his seat. She cursed him for implying that she was too weak to stand. And when he sat down again, she cursed him for taking up too much space.

+ + + + + + + + + + +

On the planet Latterdawn, Versaderma was being a large bird which COULD fly. She was dropping seed pods, from a native tree which the Looker-At-Things had told them about in his download. It would take many flights, but she expected within three more days to have a dense ring of seedpods around the settlement, far enough out to make ample allowance for future crop fields. It would take more than fifty local days before the saplings appeared, and twice as much longer before they began producing the scent which would repel the destroying insects. In the interval, electrical power allocation for the planetside colony would have to prioritize generating the ultrasonic vibrations which would also repel the insects.

Once the primary territory was in good shape, Roland Foote and Barbara Brainy would hold a meeting to select a second site for eventual expansion settlement. Everyone held on to the hope that this monster Galactikang would never come back this way.
 
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Rejoining Mighty Thorpe

The techno-magical space-motorboat, actually sized like a large cabin cruiser (with a set-apart sleeping area for Lady Sniff on the top level) was working admirably. Any of the five riders could simply TELL the boat to go hyperdrive, and then back to space-normal. It had a default enchantment, that if it lacked clear orders to follow for longer than three hours, it would steer for the nearest oxygen-atmosphere planet. A Hallpasscardian cornucopia, with elemental powers, generated food, water and fresh oxygen, because plotline convenience.

Fratbro and Sniff, who were more similar to each other in fighting styles than any other pair in the quintet, spent much of their time fencing for practice. Fratbro's greater force in thrusts and cuts offset Sniff's quicker reaction time. Hoodunnit and Vastbulk double-teamed Thorpe for combat practice. For variety, when the magic eyes of the boat sighted a meteor swarm approaching, Thorpe would open an aperture in the boat's protective screen, rear up out of it, and wield Stormcracker like a baseball bat to intercept and shatter individual meteors.

The same artificial eyes were especially programmed to seek any clue to what was causing King Garryowen's bad dreams. Not until their fourth day in space did the eyes indicate something. The boat adjusted course accordingly.

Hoodunnit, the least talkative of the five adventurers, immediately brought up something: "Thorpe, I remember you telling me about the alien who helped you psychically at the pivotal moment, kept you on task to kill Flatnose. Given the fact that the unidentified evil power that day wanted to render you ineffective, it must be the SAME power which is now plaguing your father the King. Perhaps the magical artificial intelligence of this boat can help you to reopen communication with the helpful alien."

Lady Sniff joined them, and suggested, "If two of us concentrate together, we should have a better chance to contact that wise being."

Thorpe simply nodded, and the two of them took a position close to the magic eyes. The woman who loved the Thunder-Master clasped his right hand with her left. He had not invited her to do this, but he did not shake off her hand. No spoken incantation was required; the two Hallpasscardians needed only to think about what they wanted. After two or three minutes, she suddenly said, "Did you see him that day, when he called to you?"

"No. He might have realized that seeing a vision of him, in the middle of the fight, could have distracted me fatally. Do you see him now?"

"I see what I guess is he. He has green skin and pointed ears jutting out sideways. But he appears to be sleeping."

"Then we won't disturb him by trying to send our thoughts to him. I do believe that what you see is the one I heard from. If you could find him once, you can find him again. We'll attempt communication when we find him awake."

They backed away from the eyes of the prow-- still holding hands.

"When you saw the stranger," Vastbulk asked Sniff, "did it look as if he had any wine of beer where he lives?"

"Sorry, no sign of that."

The five of them conferred about whether they could gain substantial guidance from the green person. Sniff did not release Thorpe's hand one second sooner than she had to.
 
(I don't recall having my counterpart of Yoda leave his native planet; but if I did, just assume he came back again for some reason before this post and the previous one happened.)

On Planet Toofah-Roff, all was well. One more assault by Popquizzitors and Chipotli robots had been thwarted, partly thanks to Dim Jargon's arrangement with an automated ship in orbit. The tall, slender, feathered Fuss adept Zubdookree, and the soldiers she had brought with her, had accounted for those invaders who made it to the ground. Zubdookree had been wounded, but the natives had the means to treat her injuries. Now Master Yoga-Rug decided he needed to get back into action. He mentally contacted Moose Windchime and Mopey-One Kanoli on the dwarf planet Hatpin in the Sorghum System. They filled him in on events there, and Moose added that his Shatterplace intuition was as sure as it could be that Kuth-Hula-Hoop had lost interest in the Cloud Suburb Casino, so Lackdough Caribbiyan and his people should be safe. Yoga-Rug asked his friends to come pick him up.

At this point Lackdough interjected, by way of Mopey-One, that he would send a ship to accompany the two up-siders. It would be captained by a highly skilled pilot named Pro Dashalong, who was not lately needed as a fighter pilot, because in this reality, a ridiculously gigantic "First Order" HAD NOT been able to spring up out of nothing.

Only after this communication was Yoga-Rug approached by a girlish great-niece of his-- only three hundred forty years old. "Begging your pardon, Great-Uncle, but last night I felt an intuition that someone was searching for you telepathically."

The elder Toofah-Roffian took this report seriously. "How much could you ascertain about the searcher?"

"It seemed that there were two or three of them. It also seemed that they bore you no ill will; rather, they hoped to consult you about something."

"It's good that you brought this to me. Please join me in a mind-meld, so we can search for those persons together. If we're lucky, they won't have any terrible crisis to talk about, they'll just be interested in retailing Spacebullies merchandise."

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

Mopey-One and Moose took their respective small ships. Moose's ship had room for a second person, and the young woman Melodica couldn't bear to be parted from her protector, so she came along with him rather than ride with Pro Dashalong. This accommodation was helped by storing Moose's guitar on board Pro Dashalong's ship. By following Captain Dashalong's expert selections of lightspeed jumpoff-points, they reached the system containing Toofah-Roff in less than two days. And yes, Moose and Melodica were somehow able to go to the bathroom on board their little spacecraft, because plotline convenience.

Once cleared for descent, the travelers landed as close as they could get to the village where Yoga-Rug awaited them.

The ancient Fuss master introduced his niece: "This is Bestbaya. She has helped to care for our wounded sister Zubdookree, and has assisted me in contacting a certain champion of goodness called Thunder-Master Thorpe."

Captain Dashalong's eyes widened. "I'm sure I've heard of him! Isn't he the one who always gets beaten up by everything stronger than a garden slug?"

"That was happening for a while," said Bestbaya; "but fortunately, the curse got broken. Thorpe and his closest companions are now searching space for the unknown villain who may have imposed that curse in the first place."

Yoga-Rug looked at his two disciples. "Here's what I want. Moose, I want you to stay here, and keep this planet safe while Zubdookree recuperates. Yes, the human girl can stay too; she can make friends with Bestbaya. Pro Dashalong, I'll ride with you and your crew. Mopey-One, you'll accompany us in your own ship. We're going to meet Thorpe and his warriors."

"Before we go any farther," said Pro, "I need to tell you something. My boss Lackdough Caribbiyan says to tell you that he wants to begin marketing your Spacebullies merchandise at the Cloud Suburb."

Yoga-Rug beamed with delight. "Wonderful! Bestbaya, you'll be in charge of negotiating terms with Mister Caribbiyan. This may end up attracting investment capital to our world."

Mopey-One looked uneasy. "Master, aren't you worried that evil business corporations will come here and kill every living thing on Toofah-Roff?"

Yoga-Rug fondly grasped the bearded man's forearm. "Son, I know that's what every movie tells you; but NOT ALL privately-owned businesses are in the business of destroying entire worlds for fun. Certainly not Lackdough's outfit! And Bestbaya can probe the mind of any businessman she talks to, in case he does have such plans. In that event, she'll use The Fuss to destroy his credit cards."
 
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After Yoga-Rug's party departed, Melodica chose a moment when Moose Windchime was busy elsewhere, and confided in Bestbaya: "Since you Toofah-Roffians live to be seven hundred years old or more, age differences in marriage for you can be really large and the relationship still works. But do you have any opinion about humans and closely-similar species like the Tryyurluck? How much age difference is too much?"

Bestbaya turned her eyes upward, as if to say, Ouch, that's a spiky subject. Then she said, "The proportion of lifespan probably still applies, more or less. Kind of. Maybe. It depends. I realize you're talking about Moose Windchime. But I don't believe HE realizes yet that you are in love with him."

Melodica sighed. "Thank you for not STARTING by lecturing me that sudden infatuation counts for nothing. If some doofus just happened to save my life by luck, I wouldn't lose my heart to him solely out of gratitude. But I've been around Master Windchime long enough to see his actual character. He's got it all: truthfulness, loyalty, kindness, discipline, courage, insight, and he plays the best guitar licks I've ever heard in ANY music style. I'm pretty sure that Master Mopey-One approves of my feelings for Moose. Before we left Hatpin, Mopey-One pointedly told me that up-side Fuss users AREN'T really required to be celibate."

Bestbaya peered serlously at her new friend. "Are you sure that Mopey-One wasn't hinting that he desired you for himself?"

"Absolutely sure on that point. Mopey-One went to great lengths telling me what a great man his comrade is."

"Which brings us back to the concrete issue of HOW OLD Moose really is. I don't know his age myself, and Great-Uncle Yoga-Rug has never mentioned it. All I can discern for myself is that Moose Windchime IS extremely fit and healthy, and should be able to do, um, things, normally for many years to come. So maybe the real question is whether he can spare the time for love and family."

"In that case, I have a request. Your great-uncle wants you and me to be friends anyway; so isn't it a friendship sort of thing for you to figure out whether I have potential to use The Fuss myself?"

"You know, you're right about that! Great-Uncle Yoga-Rug has told me more than once that I should make a fine instructor. You could be my first pattycake-awan."

Master Windchime was not aware of this conversation occurring. He was already in the habit of NOT trying to probe Melodica's mind in any way. Up-side heroes were not supposed to seek any reward for their good deeds; and it didn't require any psionic powers to realize that Melodica was emotionally inclined to reward him very willingly.

So far, the closest he had come to consciously returning the beautiful ex-criminal's feelings had consisted of a random thought that "Melodica Windchime" would be a fine-sounding name for a woman.
 
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The space-cabin-cruiser was pointed in the general direction of Toofah-Roff, but its crew had not yet calculated that world's position closely enough to warrant going into hyperdrive. Hallpasscardians, advanced though they were, had long been accustomed to visiting only a limited circuit of three dozen already-known star systems. This was more understandable if one was aware that their entire population totaled fewer than forty thousand persons.

"Let's try to reach out with the boat's eyes again!" Lady Sniff urged. Vastbulk, simply from curiosity about the experience of using the magic eyes, crowded in alongside Sniff before Thorpe even reacted to the suggestion. Sniff accepted this rather than act petulant; but she laid a hand on Vastbulk's shoulder instead of clasping his massive hand.

Dim-witted though Thorpe's heavyweight friend often seemed, on this occasion he was first to detect something. "I see two faces! One is that green fellow from before; the other is human, seems like the helmsman of a ship. I believe they're coming toward us."

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

In the outcome, rendezvous was accomplished without mishap. Captain Dashalong's ship was able to pull alongside the Hallpasscardian space-boat, which extended its magically-contained atmosphere to surround both up-sider ships, making the crossing to Thorpe's boat easy. Yoga-Rug was startled by the hearty bearhug Thorpe gave him, when thanking Yoga-Rug for helping him beat Flatnose. Pro Dashalong immediately picked out Fratbro as a kindred spirit, and they began swapping adventure stories. Pro's co-pilot and flight engineer each took one admiring look at Lady Sniff, and both decided she was way above their league.

Yoga-Rug related for Thorpe what he had encountered of unseen forces creating pessimism and cynicism. Thorpe detailed for Yoga-Rug what his father had been suffering with nightmares. The Fuss master told Thorpe, "Your father's ordeal is probably the most concrete, specific instance we can look at. Please conduct us back to your world."

Fratbro asked to ride in Pro Dashalong's ship, so he could watch how it was operated. Yoga-Rug stayed on board the space-boat, where he could hear more about Hallpasscardia and its people. Mopey-One's utility droid, Eight-Ball, was recording all that they said, for future reference.
 
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Aboard Bubblewrap Five

Noherra Synthmusica and Gross-Goo had recently been attending every sort of official meeting or conference that would allow them to listen in. One subject which came up often was the centuries-long hatred felt by the Goldarn race against the Snitsnobbies on the planet Safari Prime. Ambassador J'Unkycar of the planet Goldarnit had individually risen above the ages-old feud, but most of his people still hated their former masters. The bitterness had not gone away to this day, despite the departure of the Shadythings who had been partly guilty for the continuation of the enmity.

One lunchtime in a cafeteria, Noherra was eating with J'Unkycar, and asked him: "In your homeworld's pre-space history, did Goldarns fight among themselves?"

"Of course. All of our close-range martial-art methods arise from those olden times."

Noherra nodded. "So in those times, your strife wasn't against a different species from a far-away world; it was between members of the same race. Fighting over control of needed resources is understandable; but would you say there were wars which arose from one side attacking the other with no justification, out of a sheer evil greed for power?"

"Yes.... a time or two or fifty."

"So unprovoked violence is not only done by one species to a different species. It can be a matter of some individuals deciding to do evil, even if others of the same race are decent and benevolent."

J'Unkycar smiled his reptilian smile. "I see where you're going. Biological species, and moral character, are not coterminous. Let me anticipate your next point. Yes, I know that there ARE some Snitsnobbies with good hearts on Safari Prime. It would be nice if more of my race understood it. But here comes one of the good ones now."

A young, well-dressed Snitsnobbie man walked up to their table, recognizable by the transverse crest of hair on his head, vaguely similar to the bone crest on a Mintcandybarri's head. J'Unkycar stood up to introduce them.

"Captain Synthmusica, Adept Gross-Goo, this is Ambassador Veesix Lotto from Planet Safari Prime. He inherited his job only recently, but is doing very well. He certainly enjoys President Loxbagel's endorsement. Veesix, these two have come to us from farther away than almost any other visitor we ever had. They are citizens of what they call The Republic of Lots of Worlds."

The young diplomat nodded politely. "I've been off-station lately, on business, assisting law enforcers who were seizing illegally-hoarded Shadything technology. Really nasty stuff. But now I'm back, and I add my welcome to Bubblewrap Five. I do at least already know that Gross-Goo here is not your son."

Noherra stood up to shake hands with Veesix. "Thank you, Ambassador. Every day here is an education. Where I come from, we have humans biologically identical to your humans here...." (She breathed a deep sigh, whose cause she did not explain to Veesix Lotto.) "And humans are the ONLY sapient race occurring both in my cosmic region and in yours. I don't mind admitting that I'm glad the Shadythings were gone before I came into this sub-universe."

Veesix and J'Unkycar sneaked a knowing look at each other. It was also a worried look. Unlike Noherra, the two ambassadors had heard about the Mintcandybarri freighter that was disabled by a Shadything weapon. The fact that the ship's crew was unharmed was more a riddle than a comfort.

When the two green persons were next alone together, Gross-Goo told Noherra, "Those two are hiding something from us. My sense is that neither they, nor anyone else in any official position here, bear us any malice; but they are afraid to let--whatever it is-- be widely known."
 
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In the West Africa of "Terra"

Non-superpowered hero Richard Berhanu, alias The Javelin, was also an aviator, licensed for fixed-wing propeller-driven aircraft. Right now, he was piloting a high-wing Cessna, flying a search pattern over Nigeria. He was hoping to detect some sign of the terrorists, resembling Boko Haram on Original Earth, who were believed to be working with super-villain Red Slaughter.

In the plane with him was Willy Bastion. Supposedly having "luckily" escaped from the poachers in the recent battle, Willy was not known to have been tampered with. Willy himself didn't know what had been implanted in his head. He was with Javelin in his "ordinary" form, because this way he was less weight for the Cessna to carry, meaning less fuel consumption. He could change into Captain Sha-Na-Na quickly if needed. And he was about to be needed.

"Radar-lock alarm!" Richard suddenly shouted. "Hurry, do it!"

Willy shouted in response, "WHO PUT THE BOP IN THE BOP-TEE-BOP-TEE-BOP!!" -- and became the brawny, caped Sha-Na-Na. Opening his door, he leaned out, sighted the attacking surface-to-air missile, and destroyed it with a lightning bolt before it could come near enough to damage Richard's airplane. A second missile almost escaped his notice, but he caught it just in time. The Javelin, meanwhile, was passing coordinates to the Nigerian army. He would circle over this location as long as he could, to guide the soldiers in.

Before the cavalry could charge, the two men (or one and a half men?) observed vehicles fleeing from the hidden terrorist base. "Slow them down!" Javelin urged Sha-Na-Na. The superhero-- still unaware of the sabotage he had suffered-- sprang out of the Cessna, descending to intercept the Buzzvees and armored personnel carriers.

Izdihar, the leader of this gang, directed all of his men not actually driving vehicles to concentrate their fire on Sha-Na-Na's head. They couldn't kill him, but the cumulative impacts did at least put him a little off balance, producing the best possible chance for some of the scattering vehicles to reach cover and escape.

Then there appeared a further means of helping some terrorists to get away....

The monstrous Red Slaughter, looking even bigger than on the recent day when he had defeated Sha-Na-Na by the good luck of changing him back into Willy Bastion.

At the sight of Red Slaughter, Captain Sha-Na-Na forgot that here in the open he could shoot lightning at his enemy. The tampered-with hero even forgot that he had the option of flying out of reach. All he knew was that he was a scared little cowardly boy, who had no memory of ever having been brave enough to risk death for anyone else's benefit. With a mighty wail of "HELP!!!!" he ran away. Ran away like brave, brave Sir Robin.

He was miles away, with Red Slaughter not bothering to pursue, before he collapsed in a sobbing heap.... changing back to Willy Bastion, and still not caring what happened to anyone else, as long as HE survived.
 
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