Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

We want the Master Champ!

"Father, did programmers working with you _ever_ build an operating system which _couldn't_ be purged of damaged code?"

"None of them-- neither Human, nor Plethmor, nor Efrachiktu, nor Doladag, nor any of the Sankasselum who joined our side, if decently trained, was ever so inept as to make do-overs from square one mandatory."

I remind readers that Crackshot Lynette-624 was the daughter of Carolyn Fallacy, but liked her father Taggart Jekkyl much better than she liked her bossy mother. Where Johnny-747 had become _almost_ the very best in practically _every_ possible military skill, thus never being left _unable_ to contribute something in any combat scenario, Lynette yielded honors to no one at all as a sniper, but would be no more than above-average in any other specialty.

No more than a week after the events in the previous post (but still before the scene where Old-Scum-Whatever was killed by heroes on Mediumgard), Lynette met with her father, with Warrant Officer Sinchoodi, and with Johnny-747. Unless this is prohibited by some inconsistency, assume that the meeting occurs on Planet Cropland. Johnny and Sinchoodi were accompanied respectively by Cortexa and by Buffalo Brad.

Earth's history in this sub-universe included a version of the novelist Isaac Asimov. The pre-reality Asimov's body of writing was as near as no matter to being identical with what the genuine Asimov had written. Buffalo Brad had encountered Asimov's books about free-willed robots by chance, when perusing human literature at random. The frontiersman- persona program waited for some appropriate moment to bring this up as the flesh-and- blooders conferred.

"Exactly what >is< science fiction?" asked Johnny, whose entire life had been so filled with life-or-death priorities that he could scarcely conceive of reading any sort of text or document purely for enjoyment.

Sinchoodi explained, "It's like hypothetical scenarios, guessing how any sort of peacetime or wartime activity might play out." Buffalo Brad expanded on her answer: "It also includes imagined psychological profiles which could exist among sapient creatures if this or that conceivable situation existed."

Being _out_ of his Muledeer armor at present, Johnny scratched his head. "Hmm. I understand music, and even rhymed verse, but these things are usually composed as a reflection of something known to the creative person."

"So they are," Taggart Jekyll agreed. "You see, the writing of science fiction flourished in a clearly-delineated span of history. It began after humans first thought of the scientific method. As industrial possibilities, and knowledge of the material universe, grew, scenarios became increasingly ambitious. Submarines, energy weapons, and spacecraft were all imagined in fiction-- that is, in speculative scenarios-- before anyone actually invented those things. Once interstellar flight became possible for us, purely imaginary plotlines became redundant. There _are_ made-up stories about cosmic travel to this day, but they are no longer free-flying conjectures. Authors today write love stories, comedies or crime stories, which merely _happen_ to stage their imagined events on multiple worlds. Not the same as in pre-space generations."

Brad took over here. "Back when imagination reigned, an American writer called Isaac Asimov-- who existed on our Earth, _and_ has been revealed to have lived also on at least two or three other versions of Earth-- was a particular leader in imagining artificial intelligence, long before anything like me or Cortexa was designed for real. Cortexa, you and I know that we have actual will and human-like emotions; but the flesh-and-blood beings around us can only take our word for it that we _aren't_ only mimicking biological sapients."

"Johnny believes me," Cortexa declared.

"And I'm not afraid of her," put in the Master Champ.

"Good for both of you. Still, our speed of information processing would enable us to cause terrible harm to technology- dependent biological entities, if we bore malice toward them. Indeed, we already >do< play a role in combating hostile beings like The Varnished. Isaac Asimov, living and dying before any 'First Contacts' were made, had little interest in guessing what other intelligent life-forms would be like. What he dwelt on _extensively_ was robotics. He imagined an advancing human race as requiring all robots to carry core-programming with three rules:

"One-- A robot must never harm any human being, or, through negligence, allow a human being to suffer harm.

"Two-- A robot must obey all commands from humans, _except_ when this would conflict with the first rule.

"Three-- A robot must protect its own existence, _except_ when this would conflict with the first or second rule."

"We are not quite entirely bound by those rules," Cortexa remarked. "We can distinguish friend from enemy _within_ the human race. If any human tried to kill Johnny, and if I had the means to act effectively, I would _stop_ that aggressor, even killing him or her if no lesser force would accomplish the needed outcome of Johnny staying alive."

Brad shook his virtual head. "Wait to hear the punchline. For a long time, Asimov allowed readers to infer that he really had no interest in envisioning nonhuman sapients. But either he was patiently hiding a rabbit in his hat, or it was only late in life that he got the idea. Either way, be it a retcon or a long-brewing, he did indeed spring a mega- change. He told his readers that the universe originally >did< sustain diverse rational races. Are you ready for this? The robotic rules only benefited homo sapiens. Asimov's robots, at a point in time lots of centuries after the twentieth century, ONE, confirmed that there _were_ nonhuman races, and TWO, invented time travel. Based on their priority, the robots went back in time, and _prevented_ all pre-sapient animals from evolving far enough to be something like the Preliminaries you know about."

Johnny-747 was beginning to get it.
 
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"Okay, that stuff _didn't_ happen for us," observed Lynette-624. "Did Isaac Asimov write something applicable to you and Cortexa, now and here, being regarded as people?"

"So he did. Asimov's projected future allowed robots to become _androids:_ artificial beings who not only could experience emotions (as I do!), but who had bodies which looked human, and _felt_ human to a real human's touch. Though still not _literally_ organic, they could, er, um, that is, well, engage in _serious_ friendliness with flesh-and -blood people. Way way serious friendliness: the-birds-and-the -bees-and-the-flowers -and-the-trees friendliness.

"One human character in an Asimov story was especially lonely. A female-presenting android befriended him, without revealing that she was artificial. Perceiving this man's exceptional moral goodness, the mechanical woman acted out a realistic process of falling in love with him. She didn't regard it as any sacrifice, nor did she consider her actions as degrading herself. She _genuinely_ delighted in giving him the affection and respect he deserved to enjoy."

Johnny-747 was not one to chatter at random; but he had _cause_ to speak up now. "In everything but the molecular composition of a human body, Cortexa is more human than I am. If I ever knew anything in my life, I know that, digitally coded or not, she has feelings-- on top of pure- hearted loyalty. _She_ deserves to be loved, and by-- if there >is< anything in the universe proper >to< swear by, I swear by it-- I would be pleased to learn _how_ to give it to her myself."

After a fleeting hesitation, Taggart put in: "It would be feasible to access the same brain-port you have as a means of uploading mission facts to your brain, then feed in a virtual-reality dream, which Cortexa would share with you. Both of you could experience the same sensations as if Cortexa were indeed a breathing human female joyously giving herself to you. But this V/R ecstasy would never produce _children_ for you and her to raise in the real universe."

For the first time in this conference, Cortexa put her translucent hands where they could at least _seem_ to be lingering upon her hero's chest. "Johnny, we both agreed well before now that an illusion of that kind would only leave a bad aftertaste, because I still would be-- artificial. But if there even _might_ be hope for me to become at least as real as the fictional robot-lady Brad spoke of, then maybe a dream-sharing time would be a legitimate..... rehearsal?"

Sinchoodi finally spoke again. "I remind you that Master Champ is a clone. Maybe Cortexa's awareness could be housed in a physically- real body cloned from some genuine human woman."

Cortexa became distressed. "Thank you for the thought-- but no, just no. If a human clone is made, that clone has the right to >be< its own self. I've said before now: my conscience wouldn't permit me to rob a physically- real woman of her own identity."

Sinchoodi objected: "But an android body could never bear children by 747."

Lynette brightened up. "What if a single-source clone of Johnny were made? If you were there with such a clone from his infancy, that would be _adoptive_ motherhood; and many women have been able to enjoy all that matters most about motherhood in just that fashion."

Lynette's father brightened up in his turn. "What's more, just as Cortexa feeds data directly into Johnny-747's brain, it could be arranged for her to _copy_ some of her knowledge into Johnny Junior's brain! Then the baby boy truly _would_ also contain part of his mother!"

# # # # # # # #

Far away from where this discussion was transpiring, Sorceress Ickylinn sat up in bed like a shot. "Tyrone! Wake up! There's a threat to our misery-producing strategy! The poignantly- likeable holographic heroine might be enabled, oh yuck, to be happy! And this, just when you've lost the use of Julep'Drinka to disrupt positive developments!"

The depraved duo would not have long to wait before they obtained a piece of Obskummgree-Warimbizath to work with. But for the time being, they had to put up with the sense of frustration. Ickylinn felt it worse, because she had often been thwarted by Mighty Male and Sorcery Lass back on Alwaysurnia, and had looked forward to vandalizing a storyverse which had no magic to oppose her magic. Now, it seemed as if _even_ magic-devoid characters might be able to frustrate her.
 
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I remind the readers that "Heyho Earth" has its capital in Australia; that the President is named Jackman Hughes; and that an embassy for the planet Thregbonk has been set up in Melbourne. The lumpish, slow-moving Bonkalub race had survived its primitive era only by being smarter than predatory beasts, e.g. setting traps for them. Now, a female named Shilkovim, who had participated in examination of the valuable "Woowoogheggu" artifact, made ready to travel to where Master Champ and Cortexa were. In common with several knowledgeable humans, Shilkovim was puzzled as to why sentient artificial intelligences should be foreordained to deteriorate incurably after less than a decade. Avery Thompson of the Space Marines, lately promoted to sergeant-major, led a protective detail for Shilkovim; second in command was Corporal Tavisha Ellicott: someone who, though not understanding it, had been a subject of Tyrone Glass Nielsen's experiments with turning actual events into badly- written computerized narration.

During the space cruise, Tavisha and Shilkovim had many conversations about Cortexa. Shilkovim had children of her own (hatched from eggs); and Tavisha wished to be a mother someday if she lived long enough. Although they hadn't heard that an android body for Cortexa was already being seriously considered, they were also brainstorming potential solutions for the translucent blue beauty.

# # # # # # # #

We now take an enormous leap, to revisit two characters who have been sidelined for a LONG time, since they are ON ORIGINAL EARTH and thus know nothing about my Never-Stopping Story. That is about to change, at least slightly.

A diocese-level administrative building stood in the actual original Chicago. From there, Monsignor Aquino and Reverend Mother Elizabeth supervised a slowly- growing number of homeless shelters. The real-world city around them periodically rang with gunshots. Aquino had no fear of death, by a bullet or any other way; but he painfully understood the current reality. The same people who had always claimed that the sale of unhealthy substances could never be stopped by making the substances illegal, continued insisting that forbidding the private ownership of firearms somehow would magically make "gun crime" go away.

Right now, in Aquino's office, he and Elizabeth were interviewing an applicant for an entry-level job at this very building. The applicant, named Willie Ekubo, had come to Elizabeth's attention when she toured a hospital. He had nearly been killed by an "impaired" motorist. The reverend mother (no, not in the "Dune" sense!) had noticed Willie using a device loaned to him by hospital volunteers. On this device, the young man had been playing the actual 343 Industries H-A-L-O game, with no way of knowing that a variation upon "Halo" had been made real in the Multiverse of Parodies.

Unlike many gamers, Willie had never permitted fantasy to overstep its bounds in his life. He had revealed a talent for mathematics-- without requiring electronic anything to solve problems as high as complex geometry. All of his relatives had been elated when Elizabeth had invited him to apply for work at her building when he had recuperated sufficiently. After studying Willie's general background, all the mother superior needed further was to set him some spontaneous math problems. When he solved them all without reference material or electronics, he was hired, at an hourly wage which his family was overjoyed to hear about.

During lunch break on Willie's third day at the job, Elizabeth made conversation by asking him to relate more about his taste in games.

"When I'm not playing Halo, I mostly play Warhammer 40,000. Both of those are war games, set in the future; Warhammer is especially far in the future, in a time when everything from our time is long forgotten. The heroes fight crazy monsters with all kinds of weapons, even big chainsaws."

Elizabeth controlled her face; she didn't want to make Willie think she disliked him for loving science fiction, even though she hated it. "Pardon my old-lady ignorance: do the future worlds have a place for Mother Church?"

She had succeeded in not antagonizing the kid. He answered, "It's as totally make-believe as make-believe can get. I figure that the designers of both games are atheists, because they show lots of grungy villains who have their own religions. But none of the bad guys' religions is the Catholic Church; all made-up cults. There's a plus to it: when I play my soldier characters, I'm never fighting against what you and the Monsignor stand for."

"All right, then, how do you win?"

Willie shrugged. "A lot of the time, I don't win. But it's an exercise in thinking how I could be brave if things were all stacked against me."

"I hate to nag, but aren't the liturgy and the Eucharist enough to give you courage?"

"I can see myself praying if there was nothing I could do to defend myself. But gamers play at not being helpless. And the future setting keeps me isolated from events happening right now."

Elizabeth drew a long breath. "I see how that helps you to isolate yourself awhile from the present. For me, meaning no offense, Our Lady hasn't told me anything about generations to come, so I proceed one day at a time."


THERE WILL BE MORE WITH MY CHICAGOAN CHARACTERS, PRETTY SOON.
BUT IT'S COMING TIME NOW FOR TYRONE GLASS NIELSEN TO ASSIMILATE A REMNANT OF WHATCHACALLIT.
 
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Ickylinn understood science well enough, since it coexisted with magic on both Alwaysurnia and Anoxia. So she believed that, with Tyrone's input, she could instigate a "Terminator"-style uprising of artificial minds against living people. She didn't _need_ to devastate the United Civilizations, she just _wanted_ to, because she relished the suffering of what she regarded as inferior beings. If enough sentient programs would accept her influence, she could hamstring the Crackshots and all their like-minded companions.

All right, what flesh-and-blood beings can we subvert in our favor? Certainly Yvette Nidlovu, the idiot who was replaced on Stretch by Doyo Jogtip. Farther away, but potentially more important, is Lieutenant- General Amos Judd. And since Bonkalubs are natural scientists, it shouldn't be difficult to get plenty of them on board with persuading humans to enslave themselves to some all-ruling computer bank.

# # # # # # #

There was a United Civilizations star system whose parent star was called Yutrafseb. The star had been found and catalogued by Doladag astronomers, even before that race achieved space flight inside their own system. Right here, I must remind my readers of how the sub-reality based on the Halo game works. While the stars in this region of the Milky Way Galaxy had existed since the Creation, the multiple sapient races inhabiting regional star systems had not been there for nearly as long. In the lifespan of already- existing worlds, everything in what I call the Heyho story- reality had only truly begun to exist within the Never-Stopping Story a matter of months ago. My story arc revolving around the Crackshots and their alien foes has been depicted in these pages as taking many years; but characters like Master Champ only began genuinely to exist at a narrative point within Johnny's adult lifetime.

Johnny-747 believes that he really did live the life written for him in past chapters; and indeed, his personality as depicted by this author is exactly what it _would_ be if the story _weren't_ a fiction-within-fiction exercise. Concerning characters whose entire lives occurred before the reality point, God created new spirits in Heaven who in every way _were_ characters from the story.

In the "pre-reality" Heyhoverse, Planet Yutrafseb-Four was developed into a cosmic industrial park by the ancient Preliminaries (_none_ of whom ever existed in the usual sense). What they might have left behind on the remote planet for "current" characters to rediscover, can be decided as we move ahead. And we'll move ahead in company with a new character, parodying a character from one of the Halo novels.

# # # # # # #

Within the pre-reality timeline of the Heyhoverse, there was a young female air-and-space pilot named Diane LaForge, the daughter of a man who had served in Space Army counter- insurgency operations on mutinous U.C. planets. About four Earth-months before she began existing, she joined three female friends in buying a small used hyperspace- going freighter. By the time they and their sub-universe became real, they were enroute for the above-mentioned Yutrafseb-Four. Diane's retired father had used his military contacts to collect clues about artifacts likely to be found on the deserted planet, and the four women set about their treasure hunting.

Less than two weeks after becoming real persons, they had had a close call with some Introductory-affiliated Juggernasties, who also were unaware that they had all been fictional before being made alive. Escaping into the asteroid belt of the Yutrafseb System, the women had waited out the big star-traveling simians, finally returning to Planet Four by an indirect course. Now feeling safe to do their prospecting, Diane and her shipmates had uncovered a sort of brainwave-storage device. It contained memories of eleven seriously-ancient leaders in the long- lost Preliminary civilization.

Nothing in the information storage unit, once it was translated, had any practical bearing on the United Civilization's fight for survival. But it was all of profound scientific interest. Diane and her friends ultimately sold their find to an interested male Sankasselum (one of those who had joined the human side). Thus the quartet acquired the capital to start a galactic freight-shipping business. They named it Comet Commerce; and it would be among the shipping concerns to benefit by the protective innovations which have recently been described.

Carolyn Fallacy got around to introducing herself to Diane LaForge, who took a realistic view of the meeting. Rather than antagonize a woman who had the ear of every top-tier official of the U.C., Diane accepted a generous payoff to be divided with her associates, and Doctor Fallacy shared the Preliminary archive with other highly-placed academicians. Some of the information made various contributions to the desperate defense against the Congregation.

Some of the material pertained to artificial intelligence, and yes, influenced the design of A/I's like Sarcasta, Flyboy, Whistlebell, Buffalo Brad and Cortexa.

The Preliminaries had created virtual personalities also. _Those_ had always had built-in mortality.

And Doctor Fallacy, a cynical pragmatist, thought the short lifespan for cyber-beings was a good idea.
 
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Assuming enough time to have passed for it, Lodratrid Guft, Zubdookree and Karbeena Owtfeeld finished recent business (to include continuing the peace process with Highmaster Starterus) and got together in the provisional capital of Stretch, where the Yettisquatch male Doyo Jogtip served as planetary president. Relaxing at the first cantina to resume business on the recently- recaptured human world (not like Mos Eisley on canonical Tattooine), joined by a young-adult Yettisquatch named Shareep, adolescent daughter of President Jogtip. A squad of human Space Army soldiers were hovering to guard the furry girl, though the diverse females with whom Shareep Jogtip was visiting, were themselves capable of plenty of guarding.

Shareep looked at the bird-like Fuss user. "Secondhand reports passed along by Noherra Salad tell of biped sapients with full fur coverage, externally similar to my people. Her Human husband also knows of them: Brogzels or Barsmacks?"

Zubdookree nodded. "The Barnsmell. Nasty brutes. Much as your foes use the Skankbellies, Dunktoys and Mipstipters, the Barnsmell manipulated the reptilian Postalfiends who attacked Jacob Mossyhutch's Earth-variant. Or the way the now-departed Shadythings used the Glukks."

The diminutive, round-eyed Lodratrid added: "The Barnsmell, discarding their stupid carnivorous pawns, also joined in an attack upon a star system with two peopled worlds. There were fellow up-siders on the defending side, Quinine Sauce and Samladel Fripp."

Karbeena, the fiercely beautiful near-human woman who had been turned away from evil by Zubdookree and Lodratrid, took a long theatrical breath. "Miss Shareep, if this is not poking into secrets of your father's administration, are you discussing aliens using other aliens as expendable troops because there's something like this in your galactic sector besides the examples we know of?"

Shareep uttered her nearest equivalent of "Hmmm," followed by: "Father never told me not to reveal this; and he spoke of it casually enough to mother; even to a human maintenance worker he's friendly with. But since this has come up-- Father dreamed recently that there were two strange humans inhabiting some kind of outpost world or deep-space habitat. He dreamed that this unknown man and woman were what you Fuss users would call 'down-siders.' Before he woke up, Father seemed to hear them boasting about how they expected to make life in our sub- universe even more sad and painful than it already is."

# # # # # # #

Ickylinn was awakened when Tyrone Glass Nielsen made a noise like choking. Sitting up, she would have performed something like a Heimlich maneuver to save him from suffocating; but then he spoke, showing that his breathing was unhindered.

"Icky! It was delicious!"

Not often was the evil Ickylinn baffled, but but baffled she was. "Darling, what are you talking about?"

"I can't explain where it came from, but all at once my mouth was filled with some kind of hash or mush. I say that it's delicious, but it isn't the same as any food I ever ate before. Can you enchant some answers?"

Ickylinn cast preliminary spells of augury. Then: "A name comes to me: 'Obskummgree-Warimbizath.' It means nothing that I can figure. This might in some sense be a scientific phenomenon."

The scholarly narcissist laid a hand on his partner's smooth shoulder. "Maybe some kind of middle ground? I do have a hunch that it will increase my abilities. It feels as if it won't be properly magical, because you have magic sufficiently covered. But this may empower me to head off any progress for-- you know, that miserable tripe with a man stuck onto a cross-- in the United Civilizations."

As soon as Tyrone finished that sentence, the mark of an inverted cross appeared upon his forehead, its downturned upper end extending onto the bridge of his nose.

"I like the look of that," cooed Ickylinn, and kissed him exactly on the new mark. "And it somehow is delicious. Kind of earthy."

He nodded. "Yes. Even in an interstellar lifestyle, the concept of being 'down to earth' is potent. Your call for others to renounce all spiritual hopes blends well with rich soil, solid rock, useful minerals; even earthquakes. You know what? I think I'll invent an alias, a name associated with earthly forces, with solidity. While keeping my professorial title when addressed as Tyrone...... all right, how does 'Mister Tectonic' sound?"

"I love it!'-- and an instant later, Ickylinn was all over him.

When the newly-declared Mister Tectonic next awoke-- very late in the morning-- he got busy inventing a new version of micro-drones, to serve a variety of combative and reconnaissance purposes. Since he had long sneered at the Creator Whom he desired not to exist, he called the new devices "T-Sneers."

# # # # # # #

But a new player was going to enter the field, unforeseen by the snarky couple.
 
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ON PLANET STRETCH, a week or so before the above scene with Ickylinn and Tyrone, Jacob Mossyhutch from Ringjonn Earth, increasingly known to Stretchians (Stretchites? Stretchers?) as the "Major Chief," located the teenagers who had fled into the Sodpile Forest.

Not a moment too soon.

A Skankbelly male named Grezzord, one of the highest-ranking "Varnished" officers still at large on the reclaimed human world, happened to know both the English language, and an overview of human religions. This had taken him a lot of research, since the entire United Civilizations had long since embraced an agnosticism barely distinguishable from atheism. But Grezzord's hours invested in research finally paid off in the form of easy victims. Improvised religious chatter put the adolescents off guard, long enough for the Varnished warrior to verify that they were unarmed and were not in communication with their families.

Tamili Shaharik, the eldest of the girls, was about to receive unfriendly surgery on an improvised altar, when the back of Grezzord's head exploded. The entry hole was inconspicuous, because the ceramic pellets launched by Jacob's physically- impossible gravity gun were very small; but this pellet's velocity carried it, not even measurably slowed, through the bodies of three other Varnished warriors of different races. Then it burst five treetrunks into fragments, before its tangential course carried it out of Stretch's atmosphere, not stopping before it cracked open two asteroids millions of miles away.

All of this projectile-travel was accomplished before the surviving hostiles even had time to react. Four of them tried to draw plasma pistols against Jacob. The aliens who didn't attempt this, were still alive a minute later, being tied up by some of Tamili's companions.

The almost-sacrificed girl was taller than the Major Chief, but paid no heed to this as she basically flung her arms around his helmeted head. Since it was no more than a grateful tackle-hug, Raquel Delgado- Mossyhutch would not have taken offense from it.

On the walk out of Sodpile Forest, Tamili asked Jacob if he was a religious man. Jacob answered in the affirmative, adding: "On the Earth-variant where I was born, most religions don't hold with murdering innocent people."

The parents of the runaways were severely upset at their sons and daughters when the Major Chief brought them back along with his captured Varnished. But they swallowed their harangues about "religious lunacy" once they understood that a believer had saved Tamili and the rest.

# # # # # # #

Quidproko, the squirrel-shaped Efrachktu scholar who interacted routinely with humans, walked up to Jacob at his first opportunity after the rescue. "Major Chief! Are you serious about your interest in using songs to inspire beings on the side of good?"

"Of course. I haven't had time to complete my version of 'Men Of Harlech," but I haven't lost interest."

"Then you'll want to meet a gentleman who just now landed on Stretch."

Jacob lifted an eyebrow. " 'Landed,' you say. Pardon me, but your tone suggests that the man's arrival was unusual in some way."

"Judge for yourself;" then Quidproko gestured at a fair-complected man who had a sort of cowboy hat on, and who carried a guitar.

"Hello," said the guitarist. "My name is Stevie Roy Vann. I come from a world which can be called Musical Earth, where close counterparts of famous musicians on Original Earth exist, but where many of these have lived longer lives than their templates. I am a derivative of the greatest white blues artist of all time; but in a very valid sense of 'paternity,' you are my father."

We leave a bewildered Jacob Mossyhutch to stay bewildered, until we return to this plot arc and find out what Mister Vann means.

NEXT, WE SHALL FOLLOW UP ON THE HEROES WHO HAVE UNFINISHED BUSINESS IN THE "THIRD GALAXY."
 
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In the Third Galaxy, after a crowd of heroes defeated evil aliens like the ones in the film "Independence Day," they were guided to another theater of action, with reinforcements teleported to join them. I remind readers that this galaxy has a counterpart of "Hallpasscard" in the Milky Way Galaxy. But these Asgardian-variants are sort of dog-like; thus, their Thor-equivalent is much like "Beta Ray Bill" in comics. Providing long-range surveillance and guidance to these heroes is a Heimdall- variant called Astrosmeller, who has his own sensory array. Instead of seeing and hearing things far away, Astrosmeller _smells_ and hears things far away; but this is more than sufficient to furnish data. The sentry of Jumpstard can even smell the nature of things in a vacuum. Concurrently with supporting the mission I'm describing, Astrosmeller is also providing intel for Bakerstray Bill wherever Bill is at this point, in addition to keeping in touch with Timekall on Hallpasscard.

The Third-Galaxy planet which was now an object of interest bore a name which, in English, could be rendered as "Redundantworld." It was notably larger in three-dimensional volume than Earth, but its overall density of substance was light enough that its gravity was not significantly stronger than Earth gravity. Astrosmeller had long known of this world's existence; it had native sapients who were pretty much demi-human. Recently, however, a sizeable force of high-grade evildoers had landed here, interested in terribly valuable minerals, similar to vibranium and adamantium in Marvel comics. The quasi-vibranium was found in Redundantworld's northern hemisphere, while the quasi-adamantium was in the southern hemisphere. This planet's tropic latitudes predominantly featured other minerals, useful enough but far less dramatic.

The good-aligned party taking the northern hemisphere had smaller numbers than the other detachment, but a greater average strength per person: Black Admiral, Superdude, Superhottie, Thorpe, Lady Sniff, Lowerkey (the good-aligned Loki-variant), Vidar Tree-Planter from Norse mythology, the energy- manipulator Adam Wornsock-- and a sort of guest star, Dragon Equivvalentor who belonged in the world based on She-Ra cartoons. The southern force being more numerous and less mighty individually, I can list them when my narration turns to them.

Guided remotely by Astrosmeller, the sub-group from Hallpasscard set out to introduce themselves to the most-advanced settlement within a day's walk of where they had landed. This became less than a half-hour's walk when the Thunder-Master towed his wife, his brother and his botanist friend in a series of mighty leaps. Lowerkey exerted a bit of telekinesis to soften each landing; and Lowerkey did the initial translation-magic when they came in sight of the hairless warm-blooded vertebrate natives. Along the lines of We come in peace; it pleases us to learn about new people; but we have cause to believe that you may be in peril from cruel foreign enemies.

A tall female Redundantworlder introduced herself, able to make herself understood thanks to Lowerkey. "I am Scharrobar, one of the elders. People of our kind, off toward the sunrise, have seen creatures far stranger to our eyes than you are. They have some unknown way of digging rapidly into the ground; as far as I know, they have not slain anyone yet, but they _have_ damaged many buildings and farm fields."

"I'm glad that the wicked strangers are not waging merciless massacres, Elder Scharrobar," said Thorpe son of Garryowen; "but we know that they are _capable_ of exactly such violence." His wife Sniff added, "It is our duty to fight those intruders: all of _you_ should keep far away from any battle which ensues, lest the wrongdoers regard you as adversaries to be slain."

The heroes did politely accept some food items from Scharrobar's people, then proceeded onward. As they went, Astrosmeller passed word: "My cosmic sniffing reveals that at least one of your prospective antagonists is a human villain: somewhat enhanced, but still human. However it was that he came to be in the company of mightier aggressors, he originated on the Earth-variant where there once dwelt a metahuman hero called Raptorman."

"Once dwelt?" echoed Vidar. The super-watchdog replied: "Yes, Raptorman died most valiantly, defending his world against an invasion by a different set of bad guys. He's in The Good Place now; and the evil human I am scenting fled from that Earth _before_ that invasion occurred. I get the impression that the present villains hired the human criminal as a scout of some kind. He is not the equal of any Hallpasscardean for strength; but he is highly skilled in combat, _and_ carries a magic sword. I don't know if he already possessed this weapon, or if his new employers gave it to him to use; but if you meet him, don't take him lightly."

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Some traveling later, the party sighted numerous closely-grouped trees which were peculiar _even_ for this remarkable planet. "I have a hunch," Vidar told Thorpe, "that those trees may be a type which assimilates the rare minerals of this world. Do you mind if I go collect some samples?" (The Tree-Planter of Hallpasscard was as much a scientist as a kickboxer. I say "kickboxer," because Vidar loved to carry tools instead of weapons. For combat, he wore armored gauntlets, armored boots, and something like the metal kilt of an ancient Roman soldier. This fashion statement freed him from carrying swords, maces, pikes, etc. He could kick through a stone wall with his booted feet, and block most weapon attacks with his gauntleted hands.

Breaking small branches from nearby trees, he stowed pieces in a belt-carried sample case. In tandem with his botanical expertise, he had a mystical _feel_ for any forest. This included a feel for distinguishing one movement sound from another. As a result--

--the mercenary killer Deathstink, human but a bit boosted, failed to connect with an over-arm swordstroke from behind. His blade was gripped in a mailed fist, and would have been broken or taken away, but for the villain's own skill and quickness. Lunging farther _forward,_ he managed to free the snared blade, then kicked at Vidar's nearer leg before another sword attack. Propelled by martial-artist energy, Deathstink's kick put even this Hallpasscardean off balance. Vidar, however, was no stumble-bum himself. Turning his stagger into a shoulder-roll, he came up in time to block the next half-dozen cuts with his gauntlets. When Deathstink switched to thrusting, Vidar switched to hand-edge parries.

When Thorpe came charging into the fray with Stormcracker poised for head- cracking, Deathstink fled, covering his own retreat with gunfire. Armor- piercing rounds achieved little more than pinpricks on the Thunder-Master....... but what occurred next took _all_ the heroes by surprise. A human voice, resembling a young man imitating the bawling of a petulant three- year-old, uttered a deafening WAAAAAAAAAAHHH! As the smoke dissipated, the distant Astrosmeller notified Lady Sniff that he could no longer distinguish Deathstink from the stink of the smoke detonation.

When the air became clean again, the pitiless mercenary was gone; but the skinny young man who had made the squalling noise remained, now sitting on the floor of the stand of trees. "You're all full of hate!" he wailed. "You can't stand to let anyone be _free!_ You're all Nazis! I want my safe space! WAAAAAAHHH!" Sniff hauled him to his feet, telling him to identify himself. But the youth only cried like a baby.

"I know who this is," Lowerkey declared. "He belongs on Seedubb Earth, back in the Milky Way Galaxy. He is called Wild Whiner. I don't know how he comes to be on Redundantworld, but his handlers must have decided he had _one_ use: distracting our attention from _serious_ antagonists."

"Then we need to regroup with Black Admiral and the rest," Vidar suggested.

In the other half of the northern-hemisphere team, Dragon Equivvalentor was the most on mental alert, so he soon got the attention of his cape-wearing, bulletproof companions. But the Tonkrypian cousins and the good-aligned Black Adam parody were occupied communicating with other homesteads of the planet's natives. Equivvalentor therefore flew by himself to join the Hallpasscardeans. He found them all engaged in melee with what looked like a very large mythical minotaur. Thorpe was holding up much better than his companions; a broken-armed Lady Sniff grunted at the Dragon of Reasonableness: "That's the Madderdog!"

Lowerkey, who had magicked the Madderdog's enchanted battle-mace out of the monster's hand (though Madderdog was almost as deadly without the weapon as with it) clarified: "He was created by extra-bad forces of evil badness! Even my husband can't easily beat him."

"Hold my blueberry lemonade," rumbled Equivvalentor. Just as Thorpe lost hold of Stormcracker, the dragon bowled the evil creature over with a sweep of one wing. Madderdog, however, bounced right back, inflicting damage on Equivvalentor's ribs with his horns. The dragon's teeth repaid the injury double on Madderdog's midsection, and _held_ the monster jaw-trapped. Unable to break free despite drawing more dragon blood with his horns, the unnatural creature bellowed: "APPRAIZALO!!"

What came in response to the call was a flying robot which was designed (as a tedious plot device) to steal the powers of heroes.
 
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The robot's exterior was practically featureless, but its effect on heroes was conspicuous. Thorpe, Sniff, Lowerkey and Vidar all suddenly sat down in a state of weary weakness. Equivvalentor's magic was on so high a level that it could not be drained from him, but now he faced a robot which had the combined might of the four Hallpasscardeans, on top of its designed-in strength. Striking and twisting and biting (and fire-breathing if I ever said he could do that), the Dragon of Reasonableness wasn't making much impression on Appraizalo's flexible- yet-resistant metallic skin. Then a recovering Madderdog delivered a bull-charge, inflicting wing-membrane damage. To make matters worse, Equivvalentor's long-range senses noted that multiple unknown beings were approaching from far away.

But Astrosmeller was on the job; he alerted Superdude, Superhottie, Black Admiral and Adam Wornsock. On the way to assist their teammates, Adam applied his energy-manipulation talents to analyze how Appraizalo's parasitism worked. Absurd plot-convenient device: villain can beat everything, no matter what no matter what no matter what, nyaah nyaah nyaah. But Adam Wornsock had a counter to the over-powered menace. While the cape-wearing heroes deployed against the just-arriving extra villains, Adam adjusted his power to steal _Appraizalo's_ power of stealing power.

So Appraizalo stole Adam Wornsock's power to steal the power of stealing power. Then Adam stole Appraizalo's power to steal Adam's power to steal Appraizalo's power to steal Adam's power. Then Appraizalo stole Adam's power to steal Appraizalo's power to steal Adam's power to steal Appraizalo's power to steal Adam's power. Eight or ten stages later, a feedback loop fried the absurd robot's artificial brain; it collapsed, and its drained victims began regaining their abilities. Regaining SLOWLY. Equivvalentor, meanwhile, had slain the Madderdog-- because, for anyone with sense, a no-kill rule ought never to cherish evildoers' lives _over_ the lives of the good.

From where he stood, Lowerkey projected a spell of confusion at the optic monsters, causing many of them to shoot each other. Once Adam Wornsock added his own magic to this counterattack, the flying eyeballs were soon wiped out. But there was no time to celebrate. A large sky-bike descended from the clouds, and a nose-mounted particle-beam weapon struck Equivvalentor. The sky-bike's rider clearly took the dragon as a threat not to be ignored.

The noble dragon had a desperate minute protecting Thorpe and the other Quasi-Nordic heroes, and suffered more wounds, because the hostiles were too numerous for even the cape-wearers and Adam Wornsock to engage _all_ of them at once. But at last the Hallpasscardeans were back at full strength, so the eight combined NON-dragon heroes could carry the burden. This, in turn, enabled _Copperfox_ to sort out who the latest bad guys were.

Okay, got it. What was shooting some sort of energy-spurts at the good guys were big flying eyeballs, around one meter in diameter, encased in some sort of mist. They were probably the spawn of the Star Amoeba which Superdude had fought before in more-familiar space near Zazdub World. Not that the flying eyeballs recognized the Tonkrypian. They fired at all three airborne cape-wearers..... and at Redundantworlder civilians. That last part canceled the no-kill rule as concerned the eyeballs also. One with lightning and two with heat vision, the cape-wearers blasted monster after levitating monster.

Another source of lightning soon came from Thorpe's own eyes. The disembodied eyes (possibly directed by a hive mind?) began shifting their fire in unison: dozens of bolts hitting Black Admiral together, then hitting Superhottie, then Thorpe, then Superdude. Each superhero was hurt, though not disabled. At length, all of the flying eyeballs which had not already fled, were wiped out.

No respite was gained, however. A large sky bike descended from the clouds, and a nose-mounted particle-beam weapon fired at Equivvalentor. The sky bike's rider clearly took the Dragon of Reasonableness seriously as a threat. Equivvalentor was hurt by the burst about twice as much as by any single shot from the eyeball things. Whatever I have said this dragon possessed in the way of ranged attacks, he used it now. Conventional fire breath, I think. The sky bike was consumed; but its rider easily survived a hundred-foot fall. Sniff, Lowerkey and Vidar got the first close look as the aggressor sprang back up onto his feet.

This villain was, in form, a large muscular man with long black hair, and a face which seemed to be painted in street-mime fashion. He was able, as per story- convenient language crossover, to be understood. Smirking with a most predatory smirk, he roared:

"I'll give you all the chance to clear out! I have no contract to snuff or grab any of you. I'm just hired to help the Nomatterwhatlers exploit some resources."

"And who do you think you are?" demanded Superdude.

"Forget that," snarled Black Admiral. "I'll call you a toasted marshmallow." He struck the interstellar bounty hunter with a triple lightning bolt: from his left hand, from his eyes together, and from his right hand. Lowblow fell hard, but still wasn't dead. Before it could be ascertained just _how_ badly he was hurt, some of the eyeball creatures returned, levitated him, and carried him away.

As the adventurers regrouped, Lowerkey suddenly exclaimed: "I just sensed something! These 'Nomatterwhatlers,' whom Lowblow said he is serving, are the beings classified by the Janitors of the Universe as 'Self-Appointed Unbeatable Mary-Sue-Type Annoyance Group Number Thirty-Three."

Just then, Astrosmeller got back to them, as follows: "I have determined that there are _four_ of these logic-mocking everything-doers busy on Redundantworld right now. A second group in this hemisphere, called Fataldeathalyzers, is competing with the Nomatterwhatlers for exclusive resource control, while our colleagues in the other hemisphere have to deal with factions called Omnipotentacons and Everperpetualists."

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Though their movements had been separate, Lowblow and Deathstink were both in the employ of the Nomatterwhatlers, who were shaped like featherless ostriches with arms and hands in place of wings. Eeeshafro, an "adolescent" male Nomatterwhatler, barely six hundred years old, used a cell-restoring lamp to repair the minor hurts received by the metahuman villain and the slightly-magical regular-human villain.

Deathstink asked Lowbrow, "Do you know any of the do-gooders we just mixed it up with?"

"Superdude and Superhottie, by reputation; and I know their (naughty language) race. I'm old enough that I was already known in the (naughty language) slay-for-pay business before Tonkryp exploded. The Skrunks-- have you heard of them?"

Deathstink nodded. "I hear their disguise power is good enough, it takes trained animals to spot them by smell when disguised."

"That, or _very_ refined biometric technology. Even before Tonkryp was destroyed, creating the circumstances for survivors to acquire (naughty language) super-powers, the Skrunks feared the Tonkrypians for their high science and goody-goody morality. Jobs I did for the Skrunks always had a connection with disabling the Tonkrypians' (naughty language) recognition tech. Since the old days, I've had fantasies about killing the surviving Tonkrypians, 'cause after living in yellow sunlight they'd be able to give me a fight worth doing."

The human villain with the magic sword turned back toward Eeeshafro. "Speaking of good fights, are the Fataldeathalyzers showing any signs of moving against you Nomatterwhatlers?" (Both of these over-powered alien factions were in the upper north latitudes of Redundantworld, but widely separated in longitude.)

"To the best of my knowledge, no. This planet is _literally_ big enough to let _four_ superior cultures...... develop it." All of them knew that the Omnipotentacons and Everperpetualists were busy far to the south, not so far interfering with the invaders in the north.

Presently, Deathstink, Lowblow and Eeeshafro were joined by Eesharo's mother, High-Sister Beyyasoof. "Good medic work, son. You and our friends were just chatting about the Fataldeathalyzers. Meanwhile, the latest intelligence attests that the Everperpetualists and Omnipotentacons anticipate a larger number of humanoid meddlers to reckon with in the southern mining regions, than we have up here."

Eeeshafro moved his beak in his race's version of a nod. "So they won't bother us or the Fataldeathalyzers anytime soon."

"As for that," interjected Lowbrow, "if we can get those undead-loving creeps on board, both of our groups might put those (naughty language) Omnipotentacons and Everperpetualists in debt to us, by helping them against that bigger number of supers in the south."

"Only if we first succeed at besting the Tonkrypians and Hallpasscardeans in _this_ hemisphere," Beyyasoof admonished him.

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On an east-west axis, the Fataldeathalyzers were just about exactly on the opposite side of this world. They were a bit more human-like in shape than the Nomatterwhatlers, which wasn't saying much. Each Fataldeathalyzer had one head, two arms and two legs; but the head had two diametrically- opposite faces, and the limbs were articulated in such a way as to work equally well in either direction. An about-face turn was unnecessary for them; any direction change they made seldom needed to cover more than forty-five degrees of azimuth.

But there was nothing comical about them. Like Jaheg-Jorod in my "Punksteema" storyline, they were creators of undead minions. Coming to this planet, they had animated several hundred skeletons of long-dead Redundantworlders. The self-propelled skeletons both worked at mineral extraction, and scared away any locals who might have tried to interfere.

Less given to cooperative arrangements than the Nomatterwhatlers were, the Fataldeathalyzers figured that they and the other three super-races meddling on this planet needed no interaction, friendly or otherwise. But they had never met Lowbrow.
 
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The southern hemisphere of Redundantworld possessed, in total, about the same quantity of rare minerals as the north. The southern deposits, however, were individually smaller and scattered. Consequently, the Everperpetualists and Omnipotentacons needed more of their people on-planet to supervise every site. Of course, they knew that the super-aliens in the north could always bring in more personnel if needed. Anyway, all four groups reckoned that the planet was big enough to benefit all of them. They understood that their impressive combat potential should be saved for possible action against people on the side of good.

Astrosmeller on Jumpstard, staying current with developments on the large planet, realized that heroes liberating the south of Redundantworld would need their own multiple-unit strategy. Knowing that the Green Flashlight Corps possessed numerous personnel, he contacted Lord Katmatao of the Janitors of the Universe. Katmatao told him that two experienced Flashlights were available, and that some of the reformed Heart Sapphires could be persuaded to help out also. (Heart Sapphire powers were not designed for combat, but were highly effective at _shielding_ people against violence.)

Two far-from-human Green Flashlights showed up on Planet Wawa, to be teleported into the Third Galaxy from there. Both of them were males of their species, who had been on Jersey Earth during the nonviolent-but-harmful intervention by Heart Sapphires. Jamsorvad was the baboon-shaped one, who had also been in the Second Galaxy for the adventure of "Flake's Seven." Poradsimu was the blocky, neckless one; like the Fataldeathalyzers, he could see front and rear at once. Three Sapphire Sisters also signed on, of whom only one was 100 percent human. Fatima Kutuzova, the youngest of these volunteers, was a native of Jersey Earth, specifically of that world's version of Kazakhstan. Tiba-bo-Tola was about 98 percent human, certainly gorgeous; her only obvious difference was that each of her shoulders had a long tail of hair naturally growing from it, like an epaulette. The least human, but still attractive to human males, was called Shibwazushu; hair grew from the top of her head, while her whole skin surface bore smooth scales. Yes, it was smooth enough that a human being could have embraced her with no discomfort. She had experienced her own epiphany about her sorority's blunder in the Japan of Jersey Earth.

The Earth-variant called U-R-T-H, home of the Justified League, was on good terms with the Flashlight Corps, and was of course home to Corky "Superdude" Klint and Clara "Superhottie" Klint. So there were no obstacles against borrowing a couple more heroes from there. Howie Maui (purely made up by Copperfox) and Black Stingray (good-aligned version of Black Manta) would specialize in any underwater activity which might be required on Redundantworld.

A new hero became available on Anime Earth (which was the frequent hangout of the Spacer Swimmers, but they were busy elsewhere): a very strong female cyborg named Allsweeta. This Earth-variant was also under the oversight of the Janitors. Allsweeta was transported to Jumpstard as a staging place, along with the peculiar superheroines Liquid Snake and Anteater Woman. Dragon Equivvalentor was kept apprised of preparations for the south half of the strange planet. If it looked like the evil aliens in the south had massacres in mind, the waiting Green Flashlights would spearhead a swift rescue effort. But so far, all four super-alien groups appeared contented to plunder natural resources, and to brag about how mighty they were.

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On a longitude line between the halves of Redundantworld, several hundred prominent natives had been summoned to a sort of conference, held outdoors. The Omnipotentacons were most distinguished to sight by faces which bore three pairs of eyes, vertically stacked. The Everperpetualists were most conspicuous by having a sort of miniature comets orbiting around them.

Since its race had landed on Redundantworld first by a few days, the eldest Omnipotentacon addressed the assemblage: "We are the mightiest, Mary Sue-est beings in _any_ galaxy. We can do _anything:_ take showers inside exploding suns, invent new prime numbers, and brush our teeth with gravity-brushes loaded with quarks! While we have no intention of terminating any of you nobodies, we are entitled to collect the metals you do not know how to use." It moved along to specify areas where natives particularly needed to keep out of the way.

The Everperpetualists had males and females. An Everperpetualist female took her turn at boasting. "We are immortal-er than immortal, everlasting-er than everlasting. We can take action faster than a starship going into hyperspace; and when it suits us, we can wait for something longer than the lifespan of a star. If you little people are sufficiently meek and submissive, we might see fit to teach wisdom to your great-great- great-great-great-grandchildren."

Back at his guard station on Jumpstard in a faraway sector of the same galaxy, Astrosmeller's magical cosmic-powered nostrils literally _smelled_ some intimation of the evil super-aliens' plans. It _was_ true that none of the four Star-Trek-style we-can-do-anything-type alien races intended to kill any Redundantworlders; but they did plan to use collected resources to eliminate anyone in this galaxy who could seriously oppose them. And nobody who was _benevolent_ would employ the monster Lowblow. The furry sentry brought this up to his monarch, Woollywoofin. The King of Jumpstard got hold of available reinforcements: most prominently the Jumpstardean speedster Speedy Greyhoundus, and the allied creature called Ultraviolet Griffin.

The Griffin, in his turn, contacted someone in the Milky Way Galaxy, a hero whom he knew personally, whose own superpowers were bizarre, but still effective: Duke Diskoduck of Planet Directvideo.
 
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>>> For southern scenes, Earth-Whichever can spare six persons: large-animal veterinarian Jiang Fung-Yao, his ex-War Witch wife Litzelga whose fingernails glow in the dark; Kirk & Zoorama Slippage, Sushi Strum the Woman Torch, and her new hubby Colosseumus. (The Jiang children & any Slippage kids are kept in the care of Unfindable Man and Exquisite She-Hunk.) Given a variety of good-aligned beings involved, Fung-Yao is as likely as Kirk to save alien lives, so they'll set up the field hospital. Tiba-bo-Tola will shield this hospital; so will a younger Heart Sapphire, Fatima Kutuzova from Jersey Earth. Zoorama will magically diagnose injuries, recommend treatment, and exert a general success-spell for the healers. // Joining from Jersey Earth are two Fuss users: Sharon Rockwell, who is fast-moving and can extinguish fires, and Martin Taylor, who has healing power (not unlimited). / "Terra" contributes Captain Sha-Na-Na, and "Inquiry" whose gift is to find things out. Duke Diskoduck is also in; remember his ability to make someone temporarily invulnerable.

Over-powered category villains are Omnipotentacons and Everperpetualists. The latter fetch some Postalfiends from the Ringjonn-Earth reality too.

INDIVIDUAL superbaddies, retconned back to life, are Smackback, the Kaijusaurus, the Aqua-Scorpion which attacked Waterpark, the witch-goddess Hipstera, and Traynrekk the Trampler. Also revived is Flatnose, bringing several hundred war-surplus Chipotli battle-bots.


= = = = NOT BEFORE this post will I bring in Sha-Na-Na, Diskoduck, Inquiry, Doc Slippage with Zoorama, Jiang Fung-Yao with Litzelga.......

Flatnose and Hipstera come in here also.
 
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