Sfstory Log 028

=========================================================================
Subject:     Back in Netherspace
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

The HMS Golden Lance arrived in Netherspace with a colorful release of raw
energy, meaning that the ship's computer was back to normal, as she placed a
flashy entrance over the crew's safety.  Within nothing flat the ship had
travelled to the sole peice of interesting property in Netherspace, the Nympho
Beach, home of Club Nympho.  On the way down to a landing, its crew noticed
that near the Club there was a lot of heavy machinery being used, and there
were signs all about that read "Future sight of the Hotel Nympho."

The ship landed and out came two humanoids, neither human.  The first was Time
Agent 357, the owner of the ship.  The second was Omegas, former immortal who
was slowly regaining his former powers, but not his immortality.  Together they
entered Club Nympho.  Taking a circiutious route to avoid copulating bodies,
they made their way to the rear of the establishment.  They knocked on a door
marked "Head Honcho," and were bidden to enter.

Seated behind the desk, however, was not St. Peter, head bouncer of Heaven and
owner of the Club, but rather Doctor Bing Von Spleen, Spamologist at large who
was currently helping himself to St. Peter's private stock of alcohol.  "357!"
Spleen shouted.  "What brings you here?"

"We came here looking for you," answered 357.  "We need your help."

"'We?'" asked Spleen, squinting at the dark area behind 357.  357 moved aside,
and the hulking form of Omegas moved into the light.  "No!" shouted Spleen.
"Not you again.  What are you going to steal this time?" asked Doctor Spleen,
referring to events lost in the dim origins of SFSTORY.

357 moved between Spleen and Omegas.  "Relax, Doctor," ordered the un-retired
Time Agent.  "He's on our side."

"For the moment," snarled Omegas, who helped himself to a beer as 357 began
to describe the events that had taken place since he had parted the good
doctor's company.

"After the battle that destroyed alterverse #721," said 357, referring to the
last entry made by the Cowboy last spring, "I ended up in alterverse #722.  It
took me all summer to repair my ship well enough to receive a message from
Varneyloop."

Doctor Spleen interupted him at this point.  "You mean Time Ensign G.X.P.
Varneyloop LXVII?  Who was last seen heading for Time Central?"

"The same," answered 357.  "He claimed to have been taken prisoner by Chief
Logan, who was deathly afraid that an insectoid known as Quooth would reveal
him as a Destrionvax5 plant as part of phis secret quest."

Omegas snorted at this point, and began speaking in a rumbling bass voice.
"That bug has been spouting phis mouth off about this damn quest for a lot
longer than the Dvax5 has been a threat, so we knew that Varneyloop couldn't be
telling the truth.  We figured that he is also a plant, and was trying to lure
357 to Time Central and certain death."

"Where is this Quooth now?" asked the Doctor.  "And what is this quest?"

"Phe's onboard the ship getting medical treatment," answered Omegas.  "And as
for the quest, nobody has the slightest idea.  I don't even think the bug
knows."

"That's irrelevant right now," 357 cut in.  "What we have to do is secure Time
Central.  The forces controlled by the Interstellar Time Police and their
Agents is immeasurable.  Any assault on the Dvax5 satellite will fail if it has
access to easy time travel.  Dvax5 can simply send an agent or two back and
make sure the attacker was never born, or some other temporal trick."

Doctor Spleen was beginning to get that sinking feeling.  Dvax5 wasn't likely
to have forgotten that it was he who had stolen the OCR.DVAX.CTR disk, which
contained the location of the Dvax5 satellite.  "I'll do whatever I can to
help," he offered.

"Your a brave man, Doctor," said 357, pounding him on the back.

"I prefer to think of it as creative cowardice," answered Spleen, and the three
trudged off to the ship.

=Welcome back, Doctor Spleen,= said a mechanical, yet definitely feminine,
voice.  =I take it you've decided to join us?=

"For the moment, Val," sighed Spleen.  "Since it seems to be the only way I can
stay alive.  Got any 'ludes?"

Leaving Spleen and the ship's VAL9000 computer to converse, 357 went forward to
the control room, signalling to Omegas to follow.  Once there, he turned to the
powerful being and said, "All right, Omegas.  It's cards on the table time."

"What do you mean?" asked Omegas, with a gleam in his eye that said he knew
exactly wht 357 meant.

"I'm going after Logan because he's corrupting an institution I happen to love.
Spleen's doing it to save his skin.  Quooth's with us because phe thinks it
will aid phim in phis quest.  But what about you?  You just don't strike me as
the type that would help out just because he was a good man."

Omegas smiled, a sight that would cause many to break out in a blind panic.
"No, Time Agent, I am not good.  I consider myself to be that part of evil
which opposes the rest.  I fight because I wish to fight, and the concepts of
right and wrong do not apply to my kind.  And in the final days, when all evil
is swept from this universe, I will be dragged down to hell with it, laughing.
And once there I will continue to fight, simply for the sake of fighting."

357 did not appear to be shaken by this bit of dramatic monologue.  "And where
does that put you in relation to the current situation?" he asked, referring to
the Dvax5's plot to destroy and/or control the universe.

Omegas paused to consider.  "For the moment, consider me as neutral:  fighting
for the common good only because I see the galaxy as it is to be better for me
personally than the galaxy as Dvax5 would have it."

"So you fight for humanity, as opposed to machines," put forth 357.

"Humans do not interest me."

"By humanity, I was using a very broad definition, which included beings such
as you and I."

"In that case, you are essentially correct," Omegas said as he headed towards
the door.  He paused as the door slid open, and spoke again without turning to
face 357.  "But do not think of me as fighting 'for' anyone.  I fight for no
one but myself.  I oppose the machine.  That is all."  With that, he was gone.

357 sat down and began to plot a course towards Time Central, and pondered.

***** Appended 02:06:16 on 09/22/88, Posting #     4 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     What's happening on Schimmitar Prime?
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at buacca)

     Meanwhile, back on Schimmitar Prime, Space Commander Buzz Williams
and his companions were just finishing a launching ramp for the Rocket
Racer V after Toni telekinetically removed the sand which had burried the
spaceship's mid-section, strainning her psi ability to its limits.
     "How long will she be out?" asked Bert, the concerned Fungoid
Tetrapod.
     "I'm not sure, Bert," responded Buzz as he tightened a bolt on the
launching ramp, "It could be anywhere from a few hours to a couple days.
Tachi, could you hand me the sonic torch?"
     "How will her psi abilities be affected?" asked Tachi, Zen Master
of the Sci-Fi Shotgun as he passed the torch up to the Space Hero.
     "According to my computer, it'll be like having a pulled muscle.
She'll be able to utilize her potential, but it will hurt."
     "Hurt?" asked Bert, looking up from his work.
     "Like a bad hangover coupled with a Klingon Agonizer."
     "Hurt," stated Taci emphatically as he returned to his welding.
     A claxon sounded as Buzz was finished sonically binding the final
strut into place.
     "Oh, no..." he mouthed quietly as he began to stand up.
     "What is it?" asked Bert.
     "I'm not sure," responded Buzz as he began to move down the ramp,
"Pack up the tools and meet me in the ship!"
     Buzz charged into the Rocket Racer V as Toni lifted herself off of
her bunk with obvious fatigue.
     "What's going on, Buzz?" she asked weakly.
     "I'm not sure yet," responded Buzz as he shut down the claxons and
ran into the cockpit, "but you stay in bed and get rested!"
     Buzz pulled down the local area scanner and began to examine the
data.
     "Buzz," Toni said, holding her head as she painfully walked into
the cockpit, "there's someone comming this way."
     "Of course," Buzz said as he continued scanning, "Tachi and Bert
should be back inside in a few moments."
     "No, Buzz," Toni said, annoyed at Buzz's overprotectiveness, "I'm
talking about the Schimmitaran battle force approaching from the
southwest."
     "Very impressive, Toni," Buzz muttered as he focused the assault
force on his readout display, "you detected them before the computer did."
     "Are we in trouble?" she asked meekly.
     "We're always in trouble," Buzz responded smiling, "It's all a
question of relativity.

IS IT A QUESTION OF RELATIVITY?
ARE THEY IN TROUBLE?
WILL MY NEXT POSTING BE LONGER?
WHAT WILL BUZZ AND THE GANG DO?

Yes, folks, I'm back for good, so stick around to see what happens.
And welcome back to the rest of the SFSTORY team (the imbeded
line wasn't MY idea!)


***** Appended 15:10:29 on 09/22/88, Posting #     5 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     meanwhile...back in Sabre's Posting lands
From:        (TANTS at HARTFORD)

     The TARDIS rocked and shook in the eddies of Space/Time, apparently
without control.
     "My god, the TARDIS is rocking and shaking in the eddies of space
time, apparently without control!" shouted the Intern.
     "Honey, the narration said that before you did," said Radar.
     "Oops, sorry."
     "You know," said Matt, who was well dressed for the first time
in a lot of postings, "If Eric, Lord Sabre didn't have a story transcriber
but instead actually wrote these mother things, we wouldn't have trouble
with the story repeating everything we say."
     "Yeah," said Radar, who looked really good no matter WHAT she was
wearing, "but if he had to handwrite it all, then our adventures would
have to wait until he got back from Hartford and Ithaca."  Thus
did Radar cleverly explain why this posting came from Hartford.
     "Excuse me," said the Intern, to whom clothes were irrelevant, but
if we could forget about that for a moment, "but in case you two
had forgotten, the TARDIS is out of control!!!!!"
     "Oh, right!  So--what do we do about it?"
     "Matt--you're the Omnipotent one, you tell me!!!!!!!"
     "Hey, that's omniscient--but you got it!"  He cleared his throat.
"Question: why is the TARDIS out of control."
     *****Hm?  Wha?  Hey, you woke me up, man.*****
     "Dammit, Superbrain, we're in a situation here!"
     *****It'll keep until Sabre decides to start posting again.*****
     "He *IS* posting, you idiot!!"
     *****Hey, you just watch your Ass, white boy!  What?  You mean
we're live?  Oh hell, um, what was the question again?*****
     "Why is the TARDIS out of control???!!!"
     *****I can't HEAR you, white boy!*****
     "SUPERBRAIN!!!!!!"
     *****Ok ok ok...(giggle)...well, we're out of control because
of a temporal distortion field Alecision put all around his TARDIS
to prevent boarding.*****
     "Intern, we're out of control because of a temporal distortion
field Alecision put all around his TARDIS to prevent boarding!"
     *****I just said that.*****
     "But the Intern can't hear you."
     *****Oh yeah--it's been so long since we were in the story I've
forgotten how this works.*****
     "Sounds like a cue for the author to reexplain your abilities."
     Oh, right--well, Superbrain at Oracle2 is an omniscient computer account
that accidentally got transferred to Matt DeForrest's brain in an accident
that also killed Lisa Bonet, for which there was much rejocing.  Superbrain
can find out almost anything, but doesn't like Matt DeForrest any more
than any of the other computers in this story do.  Life can be like that."
     Meanwhile, the Intern and Radar were adjusting the Time Roter
(mostly by slamming it with large lug wrenches and swearing, the most
effective ways to repair a TARDIS, or at least the most satisfying one)
to cause it to let them in the distortion field.
     "Damn." said Radar.  "We need a model two Megaimportant Circuit-Driven
Thingamabob--model IIb--to get it to let us in."
     Meanwhile, in a TARDIS control room not unlike the one we just left.
Alecision was sitting with Trudy Tetwaters the younger, who had been
bedazzled by his Omnidesirable account (Adonis at Eroticvm3).
     "Damn," thought Alec to his account, "Why can't I get this girl's
shirt off?"
     }}}}}Simple, dude.  She's a) in love, b) a virgin, and c) needs
more than desirability factor 8 to get into her clothing.{{{{{
     'But if I just make her lust after me to that point, she might
feel disgusted with herself which might drive her right into heroism
to redeem herself and some sh*t like that.  That's the last thing
we need.'
     }}}}}Then you just have to wait, my man.{{{{{
     The alert began to bleep, but just then, Trudy said "Um...Alec...
do you, ah, like me?"  she blushed.
     "Why, of course I do, Trudy," he said, sensing her vulnerability
like a shark smelling the kill, and thus forgetting the rather important
alert."
     "Contact!" shouted the Intern, "now we can board then just by stepping
through the door!"
     "Then we can save Trudy?" asked Matt.
     "First we have to find them--and since a TARDIS is as big the operator
wants it to be--that could take years."
     "But we only have three hours before Trudy-Older vanishes forever."
     "You see the difficulty, then."

DOES HE SEE THE DIFFICULTY?
DO YOU SEE THE DIFFICULTY?
OH, COME ON, YOU *MUST* SEE THE DIFFICULTY!
ALL RIGHT, FORGET IT!

For the answers to these and many other questions, tune into
SFSTORY CSNOTICE, and see what account Sabre posts from NEXT time!!!!!

***** Appended 18:19:49 on 09/23/88, Posting #     6 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Time Agents in Space
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

On board the HMS Synchronicity II, a worried group of Time Police Internal
Investigations Agents sat.  Since they have not been heard from in quite a
while, let's describe them for the reading audience.

Piloting the craft was Time Captain Ian Lockheed, who looked and sounded
exactly like Sting.  More exactly, Sting as he appeared in the movie Dune.
This is not as bizzare as it seems, as EVERY member of the Time Police Internal
Investigations team closely resembles some celebrity fof TV or movies of 20th
century North America.

Sitting next to him was his long-time companion, Time Captain Sean Landorian,
who, by the same logic, looked quite a bit like Billy Dee Williams (wouldn't it
be great if we made SFSTORY into a high budget movie?).  Standing behind them
was Time Lieutenant FLoyd Cobalt, who closely resembled the TurtleWax turtle,
except for his blue coloration.

As was noted before, they were worried.  They were some of the few characters
in SFSTORY who knew of the corruption deep within Time Central, the command
post for all time operations.  Another reason to worry was that Chief Logan,
the source of that corruption, was aware that they were aware of this.  As
such, Logan had ordered Greez Hyperiok to arrest, detain, maim, or outright
kill the Cowboy's newly adopted characters.  This did not bode well.

"This does not bode well," mummured Landorian, unaware of the author's
ramblings.   I am rambling quite a bit today, aren't I?

"You're telling me," answered Ian Lockheed.  "We need help, but we don't know
which of the other Time Police members we can trust."

Just then, Floyd Cobalt, who, having been left out of the conversation so far,
had been actually paying attention to the ship's instruments, noticed a ship
approaching them.  "Hey!  We've got a ship approaching us!" he shrieked, which
was a terrible sound, and you would agree if you'd ever heard a turtle shriek.

"Scan it," ordered Landorian coolly as he slipped on his gunner's gloves.
Beside him, Lockheed ran a comb through his almost nonexistant hair and
attempted to look important.

"The scanners identify it as the HMS Blue Fire," reported Floydm who then
withdrew into his shell.

"Blue Fire," muttured Lockheed.  "Only Time Agents have Heroicly Manned Ships
with names two words long, the first of which is always a color."

Just then, the communications screen blinked on.  On the screen appeared a
massive man, who quite resembled a cross between Fat Albert and Ronald Reagan.
"All right you wimps!  This is Time Agent Greez Hyperiok and you bozos are
coming with me!" he bellowed for no particular reason.  Did you ever wonder who
Zark Flyby's hero was?  This was he.

"Hyperiok," said Landorian, "you have to listen to us.  There is corruption
inside the Time Police."

"I know," said Greez as he warmed up his ship's weaponry.  "And you guys are
it.  That's why I've been sent here to wipe you out -er, bring you in."

"No!" shouted Ian Lockheed.  "We're trying to stop the corruption.  You're
supposed to be helping us."

"That won't work on me, boys," snorted the obese Time Agent.  "I didn't get to
be a liscenced space hero by listening to the suspects.  Besides, these orders
came straight from the Chief himself.  And I always follow the Chief's orders."

"But the Chief is the source of the corruption!" shouted Landorian and Lockheed
together, but the stalwart Hyperiok had his mind made up.

"I'm blasting you goons out of Space and Time on the count of three."  A pause.
"THREE!"  He openned up with everything he had.  The HMS Blue Fire poured it's
namesake towards the much smaller and less powerful HMS Synchronicity II.  But
just before it struck, a much larger vessel appeared out of Netherspace, it's
golden shields sucking up the disruptor fire like so much spilt Kool Aid.  The
HMS Golden Lance then turned and fired *it's* namesake at Greez's vessel,
causing tremendous damage.

"This is Time Agent 357," transmitted 357 from his ship.  "Greez, cease and
desist immediately.  I don't want to have to kill a fellow Time Agent."

"Too late," sputtered Greez, his bleeding and burned body appearing on the main
viewer of 357's ship.  "You're a traitor, 357," he spat.  "Destroying one of
your fellow agents for these scum."

"Chief Logan is the scum, Greez.  Surrender now and help us defeat him."

"No way.  A Time Agent never surrenders, and always follows orders."  The
viewer went blank, and then switched to an exterior view of the HMS Blue Fire,
just in time to catch its self-destruction.

Swearing, 357 activated the intracom.  "Control room to Temporal Teleporter
Terminal room.  Doctor Spleen, did you pull him out before the blast?"

"Unknown," came the reply.  "I had him in the TTT beam, but the force of the
explosion ripped him away."

The hulking form of Omegas entered the control room.  "He's probably dead.
Even Time Agents aren't tough enough to withstand that kind of shock."  His
voice was totally devoid of sympathy or pity, as if the death of a great Time
Agent meant nothing to him.

The ship's VAL9000 computer entered the discussion.  =I compute only a 2%
chance of survival.  By the way, the HMS Synchronicity II is hailing us.=

"Put them on," ordered 357, gesturing to Omegas to join him at the helm.

Sting and Billy Dee Williams appeared on the screen.  "This is Captains Ian
Lockheed and Sean Landorian calling the HMS Golden Lance."

"357 here.  I remember you two when you came into the Time Police as rookies.
You were going into Internal Investigations, I believe."

"Quite right, sir," gulped Lockheed, impressed with 357's memory.  They had
only met once, and that was at 357's retirement party.  357 had set a new
alcohol consumption record that night.  "Are you aware that Chief Logan is a
Destructionvax5 plant?"

"And so is my ex-partner, Ensign G.X.P. Varneyloop LXVII," answered 357.  "And
who knows how many others.  We've got to get inside Time Central and get Logan.
He's the key."

"Do you have any idea how we're going to accomplish that, sir?" asked Floyd
Cobalt, who had just crawled out of his shell.  Once again, he wished he were
as brave as his heroes, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"No, I don't," admitted 357.  "Why don't you youngsters dock your ship with
mine and we'll get together and figure this out."

"Roger," said Ian.  "Synchronicity II out."

=Report from sickbay, 357.  Quooth has recovered.=

"Good, have him meet us in the main briefing room."

Val checked her copy of the ship's blueprints.  =We don't have a main briefing
room.=

"Then just throw a few chairs in the game room, and paint over the Zacman game.
Omegas, what do you know about breaking into highly defended..."

In the cold of Space, the two ships silently docked....

***** Appended 14:29:17 on 09/24/88, Posting #     7 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein Nathan sets up a Battle
From:        Nathan Irwin (UD140680 at NDSUVM1)

     Meanwhile, over Disneyland, Zark Flyby and the WS Edwin Meese III
were preparing to engage one hundred F-18 fighter-bombers pilotted by
one hundred deranged and hypnotized North Dakotans.  The North Dakotans
were hell-bent upon bombing Disneyland into dust; Zark was hell-bent
upon demolishing the North Dakotans, thus assuring himself a promotion.

     As the distance between the Meese III and the fighters shrank, Zark
charged his ship's weapons, smirking to himself

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

     "But, MASTER," hissed the servant, "Why do you want Flyby to battle
those stupid North Dakotans?  What if he DIES in the battle?  Then, all
your plans will be RUINED."

     "Be SILENT, fool!" It ordered, "Don't you SEE?  Flyby will not be
beaten by those miserable zombies.  However, to beat THEM, he will HAVE
to use deathwish at vigilantevm, the omniviolent superaccount *I* gave him.
THEN," and here, It drew itself to It's full, impressive height, "THEN,
he will be under MY control, and he will destroy the one creature in the
universe who could POSSIBLY disrupt my plans.  After THAT, my victory
will be assured."

     "Of course, Master." hissed the servant, whose name was
lackey at slavevm1.

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

     Just then, the fighters came within range of the Meese III's laser
cannons.  "FIRE!" Zark screamed, and Louie Stevens fired a volley that
should have atomized all one hundred fighters and their crew.  But, for
some unknown reason, the fighters were barely harmed; most of the planes
took only minor structural damage, and kept flying.

     "Fire AGAIN!" shrieked Zark.  Louie fired again.  And again.
Still nothing; the fighters, still too far away to use their own
weapons, continued to hurtle towards Disneyland and the Meese III.

     Down below,  Billy Guardian was sitting in one of the many cafes
in Disneyland, casually sipping away at a Diet Pepsi (caffeine-free).
"Jeepers!" he thought to himself as he watched the behemoth starship
above him firing at a fleet of Air Force fighters, "I sure hope nobody
gets HURT."  Billy was about five feet, five inches tall, with a
childlike face, and short, brown hair.  He had deep, blue eyes which
had an incredible calming effect on anyone who looked into them, and
golden, soothing voice to which one could listen for hours on end.
Somehow, he always seemed serene, calm, and passive; this quality had
caused his high school class to vote him "Most Likely to be a Real Simp".
He was a Computer Science major at the University of Wisconsin, where,
just the other day, he had found the most PECULIAR file in his reader....

     Aboard the Meese III, Louie fired three more shots, but still
had not manageed to damage even ONE of the fighters.  Suddenly, Zark
leaped out of his command chair, dashed to Louie's weaponry console,
and pushed the youth aside.

     "Get outta my WAY, kid," he threatened, "Yo, STU, I need more
power in these cannons."

     "I wouldn't recommend that," said Bubba, "It's too risky.  The
cannons could overload and the ship could blow up."

     "Shut up.  I don't WANT your opinion.  This here's MY ship, and
*I* give the orders, got it?"

     "Cannons are changed as high as I can get 'em, Zark," said Stu, as
Bubba stormed out of the bridge, "even Life Support has been shut down,
temporarily.  If you're gonna make your move, make it quick."

     Zark took the weaponry controls in his hands, and took aim at the
approaching fighters, calling upon his omniviolent superaccount.


     A hundred North Dakotans aimed their feeble weaponry at the Meese
III.


     Billy Guardian held his breath as the strange ship began to wobble
slightly, its weapons surrounded by an uncanny green glow.


     "Very GOOD," It cackled, "It will all be over soon."


WILL IT ALL BE OVER SOON???
WHO *IS* THIS BILLY GUARDIAN, ANYWAY???
IS BUBBA REALLY MAD, NOW???
WILL DISNEYLAND SURVIVE???

Actually, I kinda doubt it.

***** Appended 18:08:24 on 09/25/88, Posting #     8 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     In need of a plan
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

Time Agent 357 sat at the head of a table located in the newly created main
briefing room aboard the HMS Golden Lance, a powerful, ABPSAR-powered time
vessel currently docked with a less powerful, conventionally-powered time
vessel called the HMS Synchronicity II.  Both ships were located a few parsecs
out of sensor range of Time Central, which had been infiltrated by the Dvax5
agents.  357 looked closely at the 'people' sitting at the table with him.

To his right was Omegas, once God's most streetwise henchman and now a former
immortal of considerable power.  His powerful frame completely filled his
chair, and his long arms made frequent reaches toward the alcohol dispenser.
357 wondered what was bothering him lately, as he used to be a much happier,
Bruce Willis type character.

Seated next to Omegas was a blue grasshopper-shaped alien named Quooth, native
of Wzaxtil.  Phe had entered only moments before, as phe had been recovering
from a nasty blow to the head for the last several entries.  Omegas had handed
phim phis Holy Harmonica, which functioned as a very efficient translator, with
the exception of the musical notes it occasionally emitted when phe spoke.

To 357's left was Doctor Bing Von Spleen, the only Earth native in that sector
of space.  Spleen was the founding father of Spamology, the study and use of
Spam, a vile substance that had actually been mistaken for food on his home
planet.  He had replace his usual white Spamology labcoat with an efficient
looking bartenders get-up, as he had been the head bartender at the Club Nympho
over the summer.

At the other end of the table was Time Captain Ian Lockheed, member of the Time
Police's Internal Investigations Division and a dead ringer for Sting, as all
members of the TPIID resemble someone.  His companion, Captain Sean Landorian,
was a dead ringer for Billy Dee Williams, and had been his partner for years.

Rounding out the group was Lieutenant Floyd Cobalt, a blue turtle who stood
less than four feet tall.  He was the youngest and least experienced of the
group and thus spent much of his time looking around and acting impressed.

=Holograph projecter ready, 357,= reported the voice of the ship's VAL9000
computer.  =I was able to locate all the blueprints you asked for.=

"Good work," complimented 357.  "Let's start with the main floorplan."  In the
air before them, a complex diagram appeared.  "This is Time Central's main
building, which contains the barracks, temporal monitoring equipment, offices,
main defences, and the tennis courts.  Normally, it would be entered through
the main entrance... here."  He casually indicated a pair of suprasteel doors
located on the flatest side of the very angular building.

Captain Lockheed spoke at this point.  "Unfortunately, we can't get to those
doors, and Time Central's main screens are up.  We won't be able to get within
two miles of the complex."

"What about the Temporal Teleporter Terminal?" asked Omegas.  "The TTT could
place you directly inside the building."

"That won't work," corrected Landorian.  "The main screens also cancel out TTT
waves.  The screens also isolate Time Central temporally, making them mostly
immune to attempts at altering history.  Otherwise, they couldn't be around
afterward to fix history."  As he spoke, he noticed Doctor Spleen wasn't
listening, but was instead scribbling figures on a note pad.

"Hmm," hummed Doctor Spleen.  "Does Time Central use Spam-powered devices in
its work?"

"No," answered 357.  "Time travel is rather easy without Spam.  As far as I
know, I'm the only character with a Spam-powered timeship, and I use Spam
mainly for inter-dimensional travel."

"Then maybe," said the Doctor excitedly, "we can use the Spam-powered TTT
aboard the Golden Lance to beam a team inside the screens by jumping through
different alterverses."

"It sounds reasonable, human," rumbled Omegas' deep base voice.  "But the
calculations are quite beyond your capabilities."

"Well, we do have a state of the art VAL9000 computer on board."

=Sorry to disappoint you, Doctor, but such calculations are totally beyond my
parameters.  I can only do what my designers could do.=

"Wait a minute!" shouted Lockheed.  "Landorian, didn't you get an A in Temporal
Physics back at Interstellar University?"

"No," said Landorian, a blush showing through his dark features.  "I got an A
in Creative Computing, and reprogrammed IU's memory banks to give me that A."

357 mentioned that Temporal Physics had not been required at IU when he was a
student, and Lockheed admitted that he'd had so much trouble passing it that
he'd almost switched majors.  Omegas was complaining about how he was risking
his life for a bunch of high school dropouts when Quooth spoke.

"Excuse me, gentlebeings," phe said.  "But is there not another member of the
Time Police among us?"

357 stood and looked across the table.  "Lieutenant Cobalt, front and center."
Floyd Cobalt stood at attention, or at least as close to it as a turtle could
attain.  "What was you score in Temporal Physics at IU?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I didn't attend IU," the blue creature said.
"I'm a graduate of Arcturus Tech, and I only got a C in TP.  They didn't like
my term paper:  How to defeat Time Police defenses with Spam-powered Devices."

Let's just say that Floyd is a little slow on the uptake, but he caught on
after 357 had carried him to the TTT room and set him and Spleen to work.
Quooth accompanied them, not because of any skill he might have had in such
matters, but because phe felt a kinship with the similarly colored turtle.

Time Agent 357, Omegas, Captain Ian Lockheed, and Captain Sean Landorian then
retired to the briefing room and began formulating a plan of attack.  Val ran
her electronic buns off attempting to supply information to both groups.

***** Appended 18:32:59 on 09/25/88, Posting #     9 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     The Announcement    {SM3}
From:        Scott McGuire (89SGM at WILLIAMS)

SUMMARY:  The forces of the J'lean Imperium, led by Dark Lord Brigoni, have
invaded the planet Jarma.  Brigoni and his first lieutenant Galwyn have
transported down to the Minister Prime's office to assume command of the
government.  Unbeknownst to Brigoni, Galwyn is an agent of the R'nthrei
Movement, a rebellion against the Imperium; and any suspicions Brigoni may
have are far from his mind, as he is distracted from his job by a red
sports hovercraft he recently obliterated.

------------

Galwyn indecisively stood in front of the portable videocom link.  He was
sorely tempted to use it to contact the R'nthrei Movement before he took it
to Brigoni.  He hadn't made contact with the Movement since he applied to
work on Brigoni's command 'craft; his leaders had deemed a transmission too
likely to be detected.  He wasn't on the ship now, but the whole planet was
crawling with J'lean scanners and troops.  And even if he did transmit
without being detected, the signal would be too late for the Movement to
come to Jarma unless they were already on Jarma, or another planet in the
system.  And if they were in Jarma's system, they already knew the J'lean
Imperium was invading.  Galwyn's conscience reasoned its way out of making
the transmission, so he hefted the portable videocom and hurried back to
the Minister Prime's office.

In the state office, Brigoni stood aloof, his hands crossed against his
chest, as he stared coldly at the Minister Prime Wisener.  Brigoni felt
like pacing; he felt like leaving; but he had his job to execute, and the
appropriate air to maintain, so he did not pace or leave.  He was to invade
another system as soon as he had control of this one.  The timing of was
crucial; yet he wondered if it could wait, or if another Dark Lord could
deal with it.  Brigoni wished to return to his estate on J'lea, and think.
He was disturbed that his drive to unify the galactic arm was waning, but
surely a rest would help.

Galwyn entered, holding the videocom transmitter.  Brigoni nodded, and the
lieutenant began to set it up.  Then he took some precise steps to
Wisener's desk, and looked at the man behind it.  "It is time for to make
an announcement," the Dark Lord said.

Wisener noticed the ten elite guards grow a little ready.  Brigoni was
staring at him.

Wisener glanced around the room.  The Minister of Trade had returned from
whatever errand it was he had run for Brigoni; the traitor was ready to
make an announcement if he did not.  Wisener swiveled his chair around so
that his back was to the Dark Lord, facing out the window, where the J'lean
forces were massed in his capitol's lawns.  He remained there, refusing to
even answer.

"Your decision is not a wise one," Brigoni said.  He pointed to a balding
man, the Minister of Trade.  "Will you too refuse?"

The Minister shook his head, and stepped forward.  Wisener could see it out
of the corner of his eye, and he clenched his chair in anger.

"It is ready, my Lord," Galwyn said.  The videocom transmitter was now set
up on a tripod, and aimed at the Minister of Trade's face.

"What shall I say?" asked the Minister nervously.

Brigoni thought for a second.  "Announce who you are; say that you are
making this announcement on the Minister Prime's behalf; say that he has
granted me the authority to assume his position.  And remember that the
announcement is important."  He waited five seconds.  "Begin transmission."

Across the planet, all video screens and radios were blanketed in silence
as the videocom transmission, encoded with the highest emergency priority,
interrupted all normal transmissions.  The digital wire services of news
stations of cities where it was night recorded the message, placing it at
the top of the news stack.  It was entirely possible that most of the
planet did not know it had been invaded; even the J'lean Imperium did not
have the resources to invade every square inch of a planet.  Instead, it
had been shown that invading the five major cities, including the capitol,
was sufficient.  The cruisers in orbit around the planet could transport
troops to any spots of resistance that then sprung up in other places.

The Minister of Trade cleared his throat.  "Greetings, fellow citizens of
Jarma.  I am the Planetary Minister of Trade, speaking on Minister Prime
Wisener's behalf."

Wisener winced at the words, but something out his window caught his
attention.  A flash of laser fire - an explosion - new hovercrafts
appearing on the horizon.  The milling J'lean troops suddenly organized
into squadrons.  The elite guards near Wisener began to look out the
window.

"The Minister Prime is, uh, indisposed, but the message which follows is of
vital importance, and I urge to you pay attention."

Several dozen armored 'crafts, not of J'lean design, roared over towards
the capitol building, their laser turrets blasting at the parked J'lean
'crafts.  The troops responded in turn.  The noise had not yet penetrated
to the relatively soundproof office, but the explosions were getting
closer...

"Many of you have no doubt heard of the J'lean Imperium.  In pursuit of
their goal of unification of the Galactic Arm, they have come to offer
Jarma their protection and services."

The elite guard next to Wisener turned to face Brigoni, whose back was to
the window as he watched the Minister of Trade.  "My Lord!" the elite
hissed.  Brigoni silenced him with a vicious backwards wave of the hand,
without looking around.  The guard turned back to the window, and looked at
his compatriot for help.  The laser fire was within yards of the capitol
building.  Wisener realized that neither guard was watching him, as they
tried to decide how to best respond.

"To this end, the Dark Lord Brigoni has been granted the title of Minister
Prime by the current Minister Prime Wisener.  I urge you..."  Wisener
jumped over his desk and into the videocom's line of sight.  The elite
guards moved after him quickly.

"I grant no such authority!" Wisener screamed into the lens before being
clubbed by two elite guards.  The Dark Lord's face raged.  The two elites
at the window took this moment to further interrupt the announcement.

"My Lord, we are under attack!" shouted the one who had first spoken.

Brigoni hastily reached down to his belt and withdrew one of the pistols.
He fired at the guard.  "SILENCE!" he roared.  Then the fire reached the
office's window, which exploded inwards.  Brigoni stared at it for only
half a second before withdrawing the other pistol with his other hand.
"Elite, protect me!  Galwyn, radio for reinforcements!"  He began to fire
out the opening, blasting the occasional Minister who got in the way.  The
elite massed at the window, some firing their laser rifles, others getting
out their grenades.

Galwyn took his personal com off his belt and spoke into it.  "Main force,
alert.  All available forces in the capitol city to the capitol building to
combat insurgents.  Cruisers, detach additional units to capital city."  He
knew that the instant he said it, more troops from the cruisers in orbit
were being transported down, and all the troops in the city which were not
already preventing the rebellion from spreading were making their way to
the sight of the battle.

His hands shook as he returned the communicator to his belt.  He had
probably just consigned this effort of the R'nthrei Movement to failure;
but the trust of Brigoni had to be maintained, as the success of Galwyn's
ultimate task was worth more than the independence of this planet.  But he
was disturbed just the same.  He ran to join Brigoni behind the line of
elite guardsmen.

"Identify the leader and bring his car down alive," Brigoni said into his
com, "by order of Dark Lord Brigoni himself."  He turned it off.  "Lt.
Galwyn, is that videocom still transmitting?"

With a shock, Galwyn realized it was.  "Yes, my lord."

"Good.  Then they shall see the insurgence destroyed."

In a few minutes, it was.  The capitol lawns were littered with burnt metal
and plastic from destroyed hovercrafts; the troops were regrouping on the
less littered sights.  Some were collecting the bodies of fallen troopers
into piles for transport up to one of the cruisers, where they would be
identified and their families sent a medal of honor.  The J'lean Imperium
at least honored those who had fought valiantly for it.

A man, wearing the R'nthrei crest, was bound and guarded by one the
remaining elite; Galwyn thought he had seen his face before.  Another held
Wisener; Brigoni himself held one gun trained on the Minister of Trade's
back.  The last two stood in front of the still-transmitting videocom.

The Minister of Trade, wide-eyed, finished his announcement.  "The Dark
Lord Brigoni, who as you see stands at my side, will assume the title of
Minister Prime and thus governorship of this planet.  We shall reorganize
our government and work force to conform with Imperium standards.  I am
sure... the joining of our planet to the Imperium will benefit both
parties."

He looked at Brigoni expectantly.  The gun did not move from his back.
Instead, the Dark Lord held it steady as he spoke to the camera.  "It is
certain that you will benefit from the protection and service of the J'lean
Imperium.  The benefits of uncooperation are also certain.  For example:
Minister Prime Wisener."  The guard brought Wisener into the picture.
Brigoni reached into his robes, removed his other pistol, and shot Wisener
point blank.

Galwyn turned the videocom off as soon as Wisener's body fell to the
ground.  The Dark Lord reholstered his pistols and turned to face the
Minister of Trade, his imposing presence towering over the balding man.
"Notify my command 'craft when my request arrives."  He took hold of the
R'nthrei leader.  "Galwyn, transport us up."  Silently, the Dark Lord, his
Lieutenant, and his captive vanished from the office, leaving the elite
guarding the Minister of Trade, who knelt down at his feet where Wisener
lay.  Above the capitol, Brigoni's command 'craft rose vertically to
several hundred feet above the city.

-- TO BE CONTINUED --

***** Appended 19:57:42 on 09/25/88, Posting #    10 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Preparing for the assault
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

Time Agent 357 was tense.  For any other character this would be unremarkable,
but for 357, a liscenced space hero and Champion of Truth, Justice, and the
Ability to Consume Large Amounts of Alcoholic Beverages, it was highly unusual.
He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"All right.  We all know the plan but we'll go through it one more time for the
benefit of the reading audience.  Omegas and I," he paused to indicate the
ex-immortal next to him who was trying on weapons harnesses, "will TTT into
Time Central using the HMS Golden Lance's Temporal Teleportor Terminal, which
Doctor Spleen and Lieutenant Cobalt have altered to work with Spam.  They will
be aided by Quooth, whose Holy Harmonica is needed in some fashion that I don't
understand as I'm not a scientist."

He paused while he strapped on his own weapons harness.  "Captains Landorian
and Lockheed, along with Cobalt, will fly the HMS Synchronicity II into battle
with Time Central's outer defences, just as the VAL9000 computer will do with
the HMS Golden Lance.  You will distract them while Omegas and I find Chief
Logan and expose him as a Destructionvax5 lackey.  Any questions?"

Doctor Spleen raised his hand.  "Is it too late to call this thing off?"

Omegas grinned as he stepped aboard the TTT.  "Much too late."  Once again, 357
wondered why Omegas, who normally so outspoken, had been so quiet lately.  At
least he isn't giving those longwinded morality speeches anymore, he thought.

=Ready to begin attack run,= reported Val.  =Capt. Landorian reports that the
crew of the Synch II is ready to roll.=

"Doctor Spleen," said Time Agent 357, at once sounding like both Captain Kirk
and Captain Picard, "energize."

The TTT activated, producing the usual rainbow accompaniment.  Instead of
the usual fast buildup of energies, this was instead a pulsing rise in power,
all in time with the weird noises coming from Quooth's harmonica.  357 would
not have been impressed that phe was chanting Lincoln's Gettysburg Address in
pig-Latin through the second most Holy Instrument (after the Harp).  And just
at the instant that Omegas realized he had to take a leak really badly, the
full effect of the TTT set in and they were gone.

"They're gone," mumbled Spleen, too impressed that his feat of afro-engineering
had actually worked to come up with anything more elegant.

Quooth, sensing that the author had something to say, stood upright and faced
Spleen.  "Yes, Wise One," phe said.  "They have gone to secure Time Central, as
any attempt to destroy the Destructionvax5 satellite will fail as long as It
has agents inside Time Central who command its great powers."

=Val to Landorian, begin attack run on Time Central.  Full power to shields.
Half power to weapons.  We just want to keep them occupied.=

Inside Time Central, 357 and Omegas, guns drawn, had just materialized inside a
shower in the Girl's Dormitory.

***** Appended 22:50:46 on 09/25/88, Posting #    11 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein trouble is had.
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at buacca)

     Meanwhile, a force of Scimitarian Sand Skimmers and Fast Attack
Fighters, lead by Sherif the Madder, sped towards the location of the
downed Rocket Racer V.
     "Come in closer, wing three," droned Commander Akhim from the
command skimmer as Sherif the Madder strode dramatically into the room,
"Skimmer Squadrons Alpha and Epsilon move into flank formations."
     "Report, Akhim," demanded the deranged heir-apparent.
     "There are two large echos on the scanners, your highness,"
he responded, "One has been identified as the Tracking Station."
     "And the second," Sherif demanded impatiently.
     "Unknown, your highness, but it reads as having activated several
systems."
     "Systems?"
     "Corporal," Akhim said as he looked to the youngtechnician manning
the skimmer's scanners.
     "I have never seen anything like it before, your highness. It has
scanned us, but they should be able to jam our scanners."
     "Why is that, Corporal?" asked Sherif as he looked at the screen.
     "The Sand Skimmer 250's scanners are designed primarily for anti-
troop activity, your highness. This is reading clearly as a starship."
     "Perhaps the valliant Space Commander's ship is dammaged," Sherif
said as a sinister grin crossed his face, "Commander, prepare to attack.
I will contact my father."

     Meanwhile, on the Rocket Racer V, Buzz initiated emergency launch
procedures as his companions strapped in.

     "The reason he hasn't jammed you is because his technology is over
fourty years old, my son," said Sherif the Mad's holographic projection
after his son explained the situation, "Use the skimmer's stasis beams
to capture him. I want him brought to the capitol."
     "Yes, my father," responded the young evil villian as the
transmision ended.

     The Rocket Racre V shot skyward as the Schimitarian attack force
began it's attack run.
     "What are we going to do, Buzz?" asked Bert.
     "I'll have to concentrate on the fighters. The skimmers are only armed
for anti-troop movements so they shouldn't pose too much of a threat.
Our best chance is to leave the atmosphere and make the jump to hyperspace
and try to re-contact Skip. Hang on!"
     As Buzz threw the Rocket Racer V into a tight turn,  flying
under the approaching fighters, Sherif the Madder ordered the three central
skimmer squadrons to fire their stasis beams at the approaching Space Ship.
As Buzz began to blast at the fighters, the Rocket Racer V was frozen in mid-
air.
     "What happened?" asked Tachi as Buzz began to flip switches in a
frustrated manner.
     "They have us caught in a stasis field. One of the skimmers must be a
scout and have locked all of the skimmers onto us with one beam. I hadn't
anticipated this, I'm afraid."
     "What happens next?" asked Toni, who had an ice bag on her head.
     "I don't know," muttered Buzz, "I just don't know."

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT?
WHAT WILL SHERIF DO WITH THEM?
WHAT WILL HAPPEN WITH TONI WHEN SHERIF THE MADDER SEES HER?

That's right folks, cue the ominous theme music as your favorite members
     of the Rocket Racer V crew are in big trouble. Stay tuned to see what
     happens!

***** Appended 14:08:52 on 09/27/88, Posting #    12 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     the assault of Time Central {part 1}
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

Time Central, the best shielded instillation this side of the Destructionvax5
satellite.  The temporal screens are capable of absorbing the combined
firepower of over forty ReallyBigKiller class dreadnoughts.  The DIESCUM
batteries alone are capable of vaporizing entire planets.  No force has ever
attempted an assault and survived.

HMS Synchronicity II, the latest word in time ship technology.  Sleek, angular,
manned by an heroic crew, and currently getting its ass kicked attempting to
assault Time Central.

HMS Golden Lance, a hybrid of old time ship technology and the latest in Spam
technology.  Sleek, curved, pilotted by a sentient VAL9000 computer, powered by
the ABPSAR (Automatic Beet Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-integrator), it is also
getting its ass kicked attempting to assault Time Central.

Time Agent 357 and Omegas, tough, mean, unstoppable, and currently standing in
a shower in the girl's dormitory of Time Central due to a Temporal Teleporter
Terminal accident.

"Teleporters are the bane of my existance," mumbled Omegas, ignoring the naked
females in the shower with him.

"Let's get going," ordered 357.  "Thoses two ships won't last long against Time
Central's defenses unless we get to Chief Logan and shut this place down."

"I already knew that," hissed Omegas as he wrenched a towel from a passing
coed and began to dry himself.

"Yeah, but the reading audience might have forgotten."

The two burly humanoids slowly crept out into the hall.  Seeing that the coast
was clear, they proceeded to a maintenance hatch.  Blasting the hatch open,
they entered and began climbing.  "Where does this lead to?" asked Omegas,
whose larger frame left him feeling quite cramped.

357 stopped to rest for a second.  "It comes out right next to Chief Logan's
office.  And inside most of the inner defenses."  The second being over, he
continued climbing.  Omegas cursed as he followed, and began using his
energy pistol to widen certain narrower sections.

"357," he called out, "you haven't been in this place for over 200 years.
How do you know about these passageways."

357 didn't stop this time as he replied.  "At my retirement party, Chief
Joanne (Honey) Bayer took me on a 'guided tour.'  I got to see every nook and
cranny in the building."  And for that matter, he continued silently, in
Chief Bayer.

Reaching the top, 357 blasted the hatch off, then quietly stepped out into the
hallway.  Omegas followed loudly, as he realized that after 357 blasted the
hatch there was no reason to be quiet.  He openned his mouth to speak, then let
it hang open as he realized that he and 357 were surrounded by over 20 members
of the Interstellar Time Police, all armed.  And legged.

In the room down the hall, Chief Logan laughed heartily at the image on the
viewscreen, then signalled his lackey, G.X.P. Varneyloop LXVII, to activate the
external cameras. He laughed even more heartily as he saw the HMS Synchronicity
II take a direct hit, obliterating its defensive screens.  The HMS Golden Lance
moved between it and Time Central to protect it, but would soon be losing its
shields as well.

***** Appended 17:44:53 on 09/27/88, Posting #    13 *****