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Sfstory Log 029

Subject:     assault on Time Central {part 2}
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

Onboard the HMS Synchronicity II, things were not good.  The ship had received
severe damage from Time Central's DIESCUM batteries.  But the crew, being
trained members of the Time Police, were not in the least bit worried.

"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!" yelled Lieutenant Floyd Cobalt as he jumped up and
down.  As Cobalt was essentially a blue turtle, and turtles generally don't
jump, we can assume that his panic was real and not just an attempt to cop
an Emmy.

Captain Sean Landorian attempted to backhand Cobalt in an effort to calm him
down, but instead hit a very hard shell, causing him to release a string of
expletives that we won't go into right now.  He paused his repair of the
starboard laser batteries long enough to bandage his hand.  "Can't you calm
him down?" he asked of the third member of the crew.

"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!" yelled Captain Ian Lockheed as he jumped up and
down.  Being a biped, however, he was not quite as impressive as Cobalt.

Onboard the HMS Golden Lance, things were not good, but I won't bore the
readers with needless repetition.

Inside Time Central, Omegas and Time Agent 357, who had just crawled up a
maintenance shaft to avoid being intercepted, had just been intercepted.
"Nice going," said Omegas.  "That shaft was a secret, huh?"

357 ignored Omegas and instead spoke to the leader of the twenty armed Time
Police officers who had them surrounded.  "How did you find me?"

The man in the Time Seargent's uniform smiled.  "Everyone saw those pictures
of you and the old Chief."  He gestured at the maintenance shaft.  "And it
didn't take too much ingenuity to figure out where they were taken."

"So much for secrecy," said Omegas, readying his pistol.

"Hold it a minute," barked 357, and turned back to the officers.  "Don't you
people know that Chief Logan is a Destructionvax5 plant, and that his orders
to you to stop me and Omegas are only because we are the only ones who can
stop him?"

"Of course we do," snorted the leader of the group.  "Do you think we'd
volunteer to go after the greatest Time Agent that ever lived if we didn't
know he was on our side?"

It took a few moments for it to sink into Omegas' head that these people were
here to help him, not kill him.  "You knew Logan was a plant all along?"

"Well, we've suspected it for some time, but it wasn't until he asked for
volunteers to kill 357 that we knew for sure."

"In that case," shouted 357 as he drew his weapon, "FOLLOW ME!!!"  He raced
down the hall, followed by a very powerful ex-immortal and twenty screaming
members of the Time Police.

In the office at the end of the hall, Time Police Chief Logan and his chief
lackey, G.X.P. Varneyloop LXVII, were laughing hysterically at the viewscreen.
Said screen had just shown the HMS Golden Lance's shields failing.  The next
salvo from Time Central would be more than enough to destroy it.

"Logan to Gunnery," he said after activating the intercom.  "Cease fire."

Varneyloop looked shocked.  "You're not going to show them mercy, are you?"

"Of course not," he laughed.  "Gunnery, channel the control for one of the
DIESCUM batteries up here to my office.  I want their final destruction to be
mine alone."  Logan and Varneyloop cackled evilly as the viewscreen changed
to a target screen.

Logan's hand reached for the control that would fire the beam which would
destroy the HMS's Golden Lance and Synchronicity II, and hence the people
aboard them:  Time Police members Sean Landorian, Ian Lockheed, and Floyd
Cobalt, ship's computer VAL9000, Quooth, and Doctor Bing Von Spleen.  After
checking the list above to make sure the author hadn't forgotten anyone, he
prepared to fire.

***** Appended 19:53:13 on 09/27/88, Posting #    14 *****
Subject:     assault on Time Central {part 3}
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

Just then came a knock on the door.  Logan slapped the intercom on.  "Mrs.
Dinglewarf, I told you I didn't want any visitors!"  After receiving no reply
in a reasonable amount of time, he ordered Varneyloop to check it out.
Varneyloop reached the door just as it blew apart.  The force of the blast
propelled him backwards in a two-and-half gainer, for which he received a 9.25,
and caused him to strike the gunnery controls with sufficient velocity to
render them useless.

"HOW DARE YOU?!?" shouted Logan, who drew his telechronal displacement blaster
and began taking potshots at 357, Omegas, and assorted Time Police.  357 et
all began returning fire, but Logan dodged his way to the far wall, where a
largish, B movie-looking switch was folding itself out of a recess.  357 fired
at Logan time and time again, hitting him more often than missing, yet Logan
continued to move towards the switch.

One of the Time Police members dropped to the floor beside 357 and fired a
sustained salvo at Logan, knocking him off his feet for a moment.  "That proves
it," he said.  "Logan is linked with an omniviolent account of some kind."  As
if on cue, an unspeakable (so don't ask me to talk about it) horror appeared
 among the Time Police and began kicking them around like stray dogs.

"Of course," exclaimed 357.  "That's the only way he could withstand the
force of so many weapons."

Omegas, coming out the loser in a little scuffle with the aforementioned
horror, hit the ground on the other side of 357.  "So what's that switch on
the far wall he's trying to pull?"

A Time Police Lieutenant flying landing behind them had the answer.  "Logan
was working on some kind of device to freeze time.  I remember seeing the
plans, and it had a big switch like that one."

357 rolled to miss another lieutenant, and said "If he freezes time, he'll
be able to kill us at his leisure."

"NO!" shouted Omegas.  "I will not die so easily!"  Springing to his feet
with surprising speed, he blasted Logan into oblivion, and then turned and
did the same to the horror, even though it was already beginning to fade,
its link with Logan broken by his death.

As Omegas was pausing to let the author catch up, so fast did he act, he
noticed that when he blasted Logan and the horror he hadn't used his gun.
357 noticed the same thing.  "I believe you've returned to full power," said

Omegas smiled.  "Yeah, I think I have.  Let's test it."  Extending his hands,
he released bolts of scarlet energy into the walls.  The resulting earthquake
knocked all to the ground, with the exception of those who were already there
and Omegas himself, who was now floating two inches off the floor.

Whistling a nondescript tune, he strolled through Logan's remains and casually
threw the B movie-looking switch on the far wall.  357's hand flew toward his
gun, then slowed to a barely perceptable crawl.  Everyone else froze solid.

"Interesting," noted Omegas.  "I'm surprised it worked on you at all, 357.
This Logan must be a pretty good inventor.  Let's see what else he has around
here."  He began rummaging through Logan's desk.  Time Agent 357's hand had
just reached his gun when Omegas found the wall safe.  The note fastened on it
read "Invention for the Destructionvax5 satellite.  Do not steal.  Time Police
Chief Logan."  Chuckling, Omegas slammed his fist into the safe, throwing bits
of it around the room until the time freeze field caught them and left them
suspended in mid-air.  Reaching inside the safe, he withdrew a what appeared to
be a pocketwatch.  A glance at the enclosed instruction booklet showed it to be
a time travel device of fairly low power, limited to jumps of a few billion
years at a time.  Placing it in his pocket, he walked towards the door,
checking the Time Police members on the way.  None had shown any sign of
movement with theexception of Time Agent 357, whose gun had just cleared its
holster.  Stepping outside, Omegas drew upon his recently recovered powers to
teleport him up to the HMS Golden Lance in orbit above.

Omegas was still in a good mood when he materialized just outside the Golden
Lance.  Another hasty teleportation left him inside the Golden Lance and merged
with the food dispenser.  When he had finally freed himself, he was still in a
fairly good mood and beginning to remember why he hated teleportation.  He
noticed that the time freeze field had extended to the ships as well, so he
took his time in gathering his personal effects and placing them in a
nondescript silver and blue backpack.  During a tour of the galley, he noticed
what appeared to be a pocketknife next to a sign reading "Invention for myself.
Do not steal.  Doctor Bing Von Spleen."  An examination of its instruction
booklet revealed it to be a miniature ABPSAR with a year's supply of Spam.

"Great," said Omegas to no one in particular as everyone else was frozen.  "Now
I have interdimensional as well as time travel."  He placed the instruction
booklets for the two devices where he was sure he wouldn't forget them.

Down below, 357 had finally managed to completely draw his gun, sight on the B
movie-looking switch, and fire a few shots at it.  Time suddenly unfroze.
Onboard the Golden Lance, the members of the crew were not even aware that they
had been frozen, but did notice that Omegas was suddenly among them going
through their personal effects.  "Rude One, please release my harmonica."

=I just received a message from 357,= said Val.  =We're to detain him at any
cost.=  She began warming up the ship's internal weapons.

Omegas, powers mostly drained from blasting Logan and his multiple
teleportations, decided not to bother with combat.  Grabbing his backpack, he
teleported away.

However, he forgot the two instruction booklets.

***** Appended 19:56:12 on 09/27/88, Posting #    15 *****
Subject:     The aftermath
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

Time Agent 357 awoke with a scream, ripped a piece of metal from his bed, and
began to beat his attacker to death with it.  After a few moments he realized
he was in a hospital bed, and his 'attacker' was the night nurse trying to give
him an injection.  With a humble apology, he helped her into the bed he just
occupied and bandaged her wounds, noting with some satisfaction that his many
wounds, which he had received during the Assault on Time Central (parts 1,2,
and 3), had almost completely healed.  The other participents in said battle
filled the hospital ward around him.  Gathering his dignity and his skimpy
hospital gown around him, he went in search of whoever was in charge.

'Whoever' ended up being Time Captains Sean Landorian and Ian Lockheed,
formerly of Internal Investigations, and now running Time Central until a
new Chief could be appointed.  Lieutenant Floyd Cobalt could be seen in the
background, filling out orders for the construction of the HMS Synchronicity
III, as the Synch II was deemed unsalvageble.

Landorian looked up as 357 entered.  "Hello, 357," greeted the Billy Dee
Williams lookalike.  "Before you ask, your ship is okay and your clothes are in
the next room."  357 mumbled a thanks and went into the next room, as he skimpy
hospital gown was letting his **CENSORED** get cold.

Upon returning, he asked "What's been happening while I was recovering?"

Ian Lockheed dumped a pile of paperwork on Landorian's desk and took it upon
himself to answer.  "Your ship was badly damaged, but is being repaired by
Doctor Bing Von Spleen and some spare Time Police personell.  The traitor
G.X.P. Varneyloop is currently in the high security wing of the hospital.  He
has a bad concussion, but is expected to pull through.  Various TP officers
have dropped by to volunteer to make sure he doesn't.  Omegas stole an
experimental time travelling device from Logan's safe and a miniature ABPSAR
from Spleen's workbench, but left the instruction manuals for both on the
Golden Lance when he teleported off.  Your VAL9000 computer reports that it
was a random teleportation and that he could be anywhere."

"That about does it," said Landorian, dumping the paperwork on Lockheed's desk.
"Oh, and Quooth requests we return him to his homeworld so phe can continue
phis quest, whatever it is."

Floyd Cobalt stood up straight, or as straigh as a basically horizontal blue
turtle can stand.  "I would like to accompany him.  I have some vacation time
saved up and phe said it is permitted."

"You'll have to fill out your own travel orders," hissed Lockheed, the Sting
lookalike who was slowly being buried under paperwork.  "How did Logan keep up
with all this junk?"

As 357 left the room with Cobalt, he replied "I believe he had Mrs. Dinglewarf
just collect it and set fire to it every so often.  Carry on."

Time Agent 357 led Time Lieutenant Floyd Cobalt towards Time Central's central
TTT complex, leaving Floyd to set the controls, he backtracked to the
communications room to make a broadcast.

Clearing his throat, he activated the microphone and spoke.  "357 to all other
characters in SFSTORY.  Time Central has been secured.  Repeat, Time Central
has been secured and all local Destructionvax5 lackies have been killed or
captured.  Field agents may still be active, so be on your toes.  Omegas is
fully powered and on the loose again, but I'll be aking care of him.  Good
luck on your assault on the Destructionvax satellite.  Call me if you require
my assistance.  357 out."

Joining Floyd in the Temporal Teleporter Terminal, 357 TTT'd back up to the
HMS Golden Lance to help with repairs.

On a small, insignificant planet known as Earth, Omegas, who had teleported
randomly, took form in a local establishment known as a "junk yard."  However,
his destination co-ordinates were not empty, and he suddenly found his atoms
merged with the atoms of a junked '78 Pinto.

***** Appended 21:14:11 on 09/28/88, Posting #    16 *****
Subject:     Small actions, great consequences.... and a new author!
From:        Beth L Jones (Weredillo) (C465904 at UMCVMB)

As many people know, such seemingly insignificant actions as tossing
cats out of windows and being in Central Park at the wrong time can
change lives forever, even throwing said lives into plotlines that
show no signs of ending before the turn of the decade.  Even the most
ill-conceived of plots can have their repercussions....

I'm sure many of you remember the party that occurred at Altiverse
#223 in SFStory V. 3 #290somethingorother.  During this party, many
"fireballs" were drunk, staircases were thrown off-kilter, and an
"angel raid" was made on Heaven (I just love passive voice!).

St. Peter and God were hard-pressed with matters on Earth at the time
of the raid (Earth, as is pretty much normal, was a mess), and this
stampede was ruining their concentration.  They left their easy chairs
to take action against the gates-of-Heaven crashers, so they could be
left in peace.  God considered taking The Book with him, just in case,
but decided "Nah.  What could happen to it?"

Unlucky coincidence! Zerox, a demon from Hell, happened to be monitoring
Heaven through a scrying-pool at that moment.  The scrying-pool was
giving a poor picture, as it hadn't been fine-tuned in years; however,
Hell was running short on funds at the time (they were seriously
considering televangelism as a source of income).  At any rate, the
demon could see well enough, to see an opportunity to get in good with
the Big Guy (evil version).  As soon as God and St. Peter left their
chairs Zerox teleported--right into God's own sitting room!

Zerox was none too thrilled to be in Heaven.  Even now his skin was
starting to smoke and he was getting a burning rash all over.   He must
hurry!  He grabbed The Book in his clawed hands and.... failed to
teleport back to Hell.  He (ugh) failed again.  And again.  Humph, he
thought.  There must be some sort of Divine Mechanism on this thing.
Now what do I do?

Of course.   He was the demon Zerox!  He could copy The Book and bring
the copy back to Hell.  Admittedly, the copy wouldn't have the mystical
properties of the original, but it may just be enough for Hell to
attempt a takeover of the Plot!

Zerox's skin was starting to char.  His eyes watered.  However, he was
a speedy little copying demon (he could do about a page a second).
Within an hour or so he had copied The entire Book as it stood at the
time.  By the time he finished, he was scorched black from top to toe.
But he had the copy of The Book, and his chance at an administrative
position in Hell was assured.  He grinned and teleported back to the
Gates of Hell.

At the Gates the guards let him in.  They nodded at him and wondered at
his appearance, and were also curious as to where Zerox the copying
drudge suddenly got such a superior attitude.  Zerox ignored their
stares (jealousy, he thought) and began to walk down the steps leading
from Hell's Gate to the depths of the Hot Place itself.

Meanwhile, one of the heavenly gate-crashers dropped his mug of
"fireball" at the top of the steps from Heaven to Altiverse
#233don'tryitauthorsonly.  It rolled down.  It reached the top of the
staircase from Altiverse #233don'tryitauthorsonly to Heaven.  It
rolled down.  It reached the top of the staircase from Heaven to....
well it rolled down stairs for a very very long time.  Eventually it
rolled off the edge of the staircase and fell down for another very
very long time.

It landed on a step of the staircase from the Gates of Hell to Hell
proper.  Right under Zerox' foot!

"(expletive deleted)!" cried Zerox as he slipped and proceeded to fall
down several thousand steps.  "Oof!  Ow!  (another expletive)!"  In his
weakened state he couldn't hang on to the copy of The Book.  The pages
of the copy were strewn down the entire length of the staircase.

Zerox lay unconscious at the foot of the steps.  Three cleaning imps,
surveying the mess he'd left behind, clucked and began to clean it up.

"Hey, wait," Imp Irvious said, holding up copied page 4624 of The Book.
"Look at this!  Is this what I think it is?"

"Book."  Imp Losian replied.

"Yup," Imp Lie added, too busy gathering up sheets of paper to really
take part in the conversation.

"Zerox?" Losian asked.

"What was he doing with it, you want to know?" Irvious filled in the
blanks Losian tended to create with his one-word sentences.  "I have no
idea, but WE have it now.  And I think I know how we can have a bit of

"Fun?" Lie finally spoke up.  Lie loved fun, especially at the Demons'
expense.  They thought they were so great!  "Count me in!"

"Ok, here's my plan."  The three imps crowded together, Irvious beaming
in the glory of his idea.  "We each have about one-third of The Book,
right?  And not in order either.  I have a task for each of us.  Losian,
you find a way to get your portion of The Book to the Destructionvax5

"But," Losian peeped miserably.

"Yes, I know, no one really knows where it is, not even HIM" (he gestured
downward).  "But you're smart, you're clever, and remember you're
indestructible and can take anything anyone throws at you.  Besides," he
cajoled, "you've always wanted to meet Dvax5, haven't you?"

"Boom," Losian smiled.

"Lie, you take your portion to that new corporate empire that's forming,
Corpcorporation.  You know, near the Fuzzy Lime nebula."

"Righto.  Fun!"  Lie chuckled in delight, hugging his part of The Book
to his chest.

"And me?  I'll just go where I'll cause the most trouble.  There's a
being I've had my eye on for quite a long time.  I think I'll pay them
a little visit.  Oops!  I say we get moving, before ol' High Britches
wakes up," he ended, jerking his thumb in Zerox' direction.

Each of the imps went his own way.  Unfortunately for them, imps can't
teleport, and therefore have to take conventional transport to wherever
they need to go.  (Thereby conveniently explaining the time lapse
between the party and the present day.)


Meanwhile, God and St. Peter re-entered God's sitting room.  God
immediately dashed for The Book.  "Good, it's safe.... uh oh."  If you
can imagine an omnipotent, omniscient being turning pale, insert that
image here.

"Boss?  Are you ok?" Peter asked, concerned.

"The pages.  They're all smudged with copying ink!"

"You mean....?"

"Yes, I'll have to clean it!"

"But isn't The Book dangerous in the hands of someone like Zerox?"
Peter had gathered Zerox' role in this almost immediately.

"Nah.  I think Mr. Copying Demon is in for a BIG surprise."  If you can
imagine an all-loving, all-giving deity with a malicious grin on his
face, insert that image here.


Don't worry, you'll find out!

***** Appended 22:08:36 on 09/29/88, Posting #    18 *****
Subject:     People on the River are Happy to Give
From:        John Sullivan (JSULLIV at VTVM1)


     Ronald and Norman, two members of the Association of Extremely
Dedicated Watchers of Star Trek Who Dress Like Crew and Pretend We
Have Phasers (AOEDWOSTWDLCAPWHP) have come to New Orleans in order to
visit the World Science Fiction Convention and consult with Earth's
greatest science fiction authors for help in their quest to find an
alternate reality in which Star Trek is real so they can attempt to
join Starfleet and be socially acceptable in skintight velour.
Unfortunately their leader, the High Spock, has gotten his
schedule mixed up and they have appeared at the Republican convention
instead and promptly been ejected  by Secret Service agents.  While
on a quest to locate twinkies, Ronald and Norman chance upon the
landing of the Synchronicity II in a bourbon street alley.  While
Ian Lockheed is planning the assault on Time Central in a smoky bar,
Ronald and Norman alert the rest of the group, then return to steal
the timeship.   Their plan is thwarted by Floyd Cobalt, who takes
pity on the pair and sends them on their way with a brochure which
explains how to make a warp capable craft out of a '78 Pinto.  We
rejoin Ronald and Norman just after the departure of the Sunch II
as they go to rejoin the rest of the AOEDWOSTWDLCAPWHP and a
horrible realization begins to form in the mind of the readers.

     "He's gonna be mad."
     "Shut up, Ronald."
     "But he's gonna be real mad."
     "Will you shut up already?"
     They trudged through the darkened streets toward the park, heads
downcast.  Norman clutched the pamphlet Sting's helper had given them
tightly in both hands.  The High Spock was going to be real mad.  The
plan had been for them to steal the spaceship and pick up the rest of
the AOEDWOSTWDLCAPWHP in a park not far from the alley.  They were
coming back without a ship.  The High Spock was going to be mad alright.
They'd probably get busted down to security. (Security had to wear red
shirts and everybody knew what THAT meant.  Whenever the group had
the misfortune to attract the attention of a bunch of drunk preppies
or frustrated jocks, security were the ones who had to get the living
shit beaten out of themselves to protect the High Spock.)  Their only
chance was that the High Spock would be satisfied with the instructions
for making a warp capable craft out of a '78 Pinto.  The more Norman
thought about this, the less confident he became.

     As they entered the park the rest of the club was there, facing them
in a rough semi-circle.  At the center stood the High Spock, his arms
crossed across his chest, one foot tapping on the sidewalk.
     "So where's the starship?"
     "We're gonna be in a Sting video!" said Ronald.
     "Shut up," said Norman and the High Spock simultaneously.
     Norman cleared his throat, looked around at the stone faces of
the group, and began.  "Well, you see, there was this other guy on
the ship, and ...."
     "Jesus!" shouted the High Spock.  "You blew it!"  He turned around
and took a few steps, then turned back toward Norman and took a few more
steps, throwing his arms up in the air very dramatically.  "I don't even
believe you two!  Jeez, you're SO illogical."
     "Hey, they had guns!" protested Ronald.
     "They gave us this..." pleaded Norman, holding the pamphlet out
as a sort of peace offering.  The High Spock snatched it.
     "Warp Conversion for the Ford Pinto/Mercury Bobcat Series," read
the High Spock.  "An Illustrated Hands-On Guide.  Reprinted from Rod
and Starship, November 2271 with permission of the publisher.  What the
hell is this?"
     "It tells how to make your own starship," Ronald explained.
     "Oh yeah, that's real logical Ronald."  He flipped through the
pages.  "Step 61 - attach matter/antimatter converter to the carburetor
intake valve as shown in figure 29B.  Where the hell are we going to
get a matter/antimatter converter?  If we had all this stuff we could
make a starship out of anything!  And even if this works, how many
people do you think you can get into a Pinto, huh?  Real logical guys."
    Ronald found, quite to his surprise, that the fire of self-righteous
anger was rising within him.  "Stop calling us illogical!" he shouted
suddenly.  "You're illogical!"
     Dead silence fell over the group.  "OOOOOOhhhhhhhhh, you're gonna
get it!" said somebody in the background.
     The High Spock became apoplectic.
     "I'm illogical?"
     "You're calling ME illLOGICAL?"

     Time passes...

     "I'm the High Spock, second most logical man in the universe!  None
of you would even be here without me!"
     "Yeah," said Norman, "and I wouldn't have lost my job!"
     "I got thrown out of my house,"Ronald said plaintively.
     Other voices began chiming in from the crowd.  "I don't have any
friends."  "Girls think I'm a geek."  "I got this skin condition."
     Norman  stepped forward and pointed a finger into the High Spock's
face.  "And I don't even think that WAS the  Worldcon!"
     "Okay, okay, THAT IS IT!" barked the High Spock.  "I've been cutting
you guys some slack because you're humans and you've got a whole bunch of
illogical emotions, but I have HAD IT!  Security Team to the bridge!"
     "OOOOHHHHHHHHH," said the members of AOEDWOSTWDLCAPWHP and shuffled
nervously back as five of their number in red shirts, bruises and
band-aids limped forward into a ragged line facing Ronald and Norman.
     Ronald and Norman tried to look brave as the High Spock took up a
position beside the security team and barked "Phasers on kill!"
     "He said kill."
     "Whoa, he's pretty mad."
     The security team took the carved and painted balsa wood boxes from
their belts, pushed at them with a fingertip and said "click."
     "Uh, phasers on kill, sir."
     They pointed their boxes at Ronald and Norman and said "ahhhhhhhhhhh
in a high falsetto.
     "There," said the High Spock, scratching himself under one armpit.
"That's done with, lets get out of here."
     The AOEDWOSTWDLCAPWHP began filing out of the park. Ronald & Norman
fell in behind them.   "Does this mean we have to be security?" Ronald
         "What are you doing here?" snapped the High Spock.   "What do
you THINK phasers on kill means?   Jeez, you're so illogical.  It means
you're DEAD!  You're out of the club.  Get lost.  We'll  find the
Federation without you."
     Ronald and Norman stood forlorn, as the rest of the group turned
onto the sidewalk and were gone.  Norman picked up the pamphlet from
the ground where the High Spock had thrown it.   Wordlessly they turned
and walked the other way.
      Morning found them on a levee overlooking the river.  They sat in
the grey dawn, staring forlorn at the slate grey water as it rolled
past them.
    "Any twinkies left?" asked  Ronald.
    "There weren't any twinkies to begin with."
    "Well, what are we going to do now?"
    "All we've got is this booklet."
    Ronald looked at Norman.
    Norman looked at Ronald.
    Ronald and Norman looked at the pamphlet.
    The pamphlet sat there looking important.
    "There's a junkyard down there on the  riverbank."
    "Let's go."
    "Dibs on Captain."
    "What do you mean Dibs on Captain?  You're sciences, I'm command.
I'll be Captain and you be First Officer."
    "Aw, shit."





***** Appended 00:27:03 on 09/30/88, Posting #    19 *****
Subject:     Wherin Sabre's plots get advanced, and we prepare to end this plotl
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enlqy9c at buacca)

     The T.S. Challenger II came to a soft, majestic landing, proving once
and for all American Space Superiority as it set down with such grace and
delicacy in the ruins of a McDonalds on Martha's Vinevard.
     All right, so it kinda kills the effect.
     The Ramp extended, and Steve, Linda, and Lucky bounded down, followed
by the very winded Lameduck, who was ten thousand and forty three years
old he didn't need this shitgoddamn!
     Meeting them at the Ramp was Ralph, the giant space weasel from
Anthrax V and Wilhelm Natchwald--once a member of the Challenger II crew
and now a very powerful Bionoid.
     "Hey guys, nice to see you all again--when'd you all get the old ship
back?" asked Ultranatch, who was really honestly glad to see all his old
friends again (sniff.)
     "Probably about when you bought the funky Robocop outfit," said Steve,
smiling at his old friend and fellow girl chaser.
     "Oh yeah, this--except it isn't an outfit--its me."
     "Oh, hey, no offense."
     "None taken."
     After comparing notes, the three discovered that a lot had happened
since WAY back in Sfstory V2n002, the last time they had ALL seen each other.
However, as that will be covered in Sf_Synopsis (v3n001 has just come out,
subscribe today!!!!!) we won't rehash it here.
     "Heh--kiddies, can we please get on with our mission?" asked Lameduck,
who was petting Lucky (the six foot tall-at-shoulder ship's cat.)
     "Oh--right!  Natch, you have the OCR control disk!"
     "No I don't," said Natch.
     "You don't?" asked Linda, who was beginning to wonder if this Dvax5
plotline wass EVER going to end.
     "Nope--Ralph does."
     "That's right," said Ralph, who was wondering up until that point
if he was going to get to say any lines at all and was wishing he had never
left the Netherspace Nympho beach.  "Here," he handed the HELP capsule
to Linda.
     "Well, come on then," said Steve, "We have to get to Camelot Command
with this--with it, we'll be able to find the location of the Dvax5
sattilite, and finally get to some DIFFERENT and EXCITING adventures!"
     "Ok," said Linda, "But I wish I knew how Matt was doing!"
     "Don't you worry about him, lass," said Lameduck, "If I know
the Intern, they're havin' no trouble at all!"
     "But do you know the Intern?" asked Ralph.
     "Who?" asked Lameduck, blissfully ignorant of the entire conversation.
     "Miaou," miaoued Lucky, as they boarded the ship and launched.

     Meanwhile, the Intern was having trouble, but this is to be expected.
     "We've been walking for five hours," said Radar, "and I swear to god
we havn't so much as moved thirty feet from our original location!"
     "Calm yourself, my dear--I am busy calculating the path by considering
just how Alecision's rather inferior mind works."
     "So what have you got so far?" asked Matt, "Trudy only has a half-hour
     "I have so far determained that Alecision's mind is more chaotic
than I thought."
     "Oh.  Great."
     "Still," the Intern said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I can't help
but think there's something we're completely missing here--like it would all
be easy if we just thought of--whatever it is."
     "We could shoot out the walls," said Radar.
     "No Good--this is a model 65 TARDIS--weapons don't operate within it."
     "Well, what else is there to do?" asked Radar.
     "I'm not certain."
     "Well," said Matt, rightious indignation rising in his face, voice,
and bread, "we have to do SOMETHING!!!!!!"
     "Well like what?!" shouted Radar, losing her temper.
     "Well, I don't know!  Do I look like I have all the answers???"
     The silence in the corridor was deafening as the Intern stared
incredulously at Matt.  "Of...COURSE!!!!  Stupid stupid stupid!!!!!!"
     "Hey, I am not--"
     "NOT you, Matt, *US*!!!  Just get Superbrain to plot our course!!!!"
     *****I was *wondering* when you people would think of that!!!*****

     Meanwhile, at the immense Destructionvax5 Sattilite, the huge Hyper
Dreadnought Lets_Kill_Matt_DeForrest was leaving dock.  At her helm
was Muck-luck, once the universe's most enlightened man, now just
a bitter, evil jerk bent on exacting revenge on Matt--mostly for reasons
we don't have to get into here.
     "Mordred?" asked Muck-Luck, "What is our operational status?"
    &&&We are ready to go, Sir--hyperstar is providing full power to
shields, weapons, hyperdrive, tractor beams, holodecks, communications,
sensors, tactical computers, life support, food preperation, and the
      "Damn, that's impressive!  Prime the TARDIS trackers, and set
Saintly Divine Infuence Detectors on full!"
     @@@Sir, we cannot find the TARDIS of the Intern--but we detect a
pure divine source on a course between Earth and Camelot Command--it must
be a Paladin, sir!&&&
     "Heh heh heh--in which case, its either DeForrest or Madisen.
And if its Madisen, then the second she's in danger, her own Deus Ex Machina
abilities will bring DeForrest and the Intern in to their doom!"
     &&&What if it's some other Paladin, sir?&&&
     "Then we smoke it and not worry about it!"
     &&&Yes sir--shall I plot a course for Camelot Command?&&&
     "Yes--and synthesise me a Margarita."

     In Alecision's TARDIS control room, Alec was finally making some
headway with the overly pure Trudy Tetwaters.  Specificlly, he had her
stripped down to her Doctor Who underwear and was working hard at getting
the Peter Davidson Bra off of her.
     Suddenly, the door to the control room smashed in with the full force
of the martial art known only as Hyper-belcho!  Just as fast came Matt's
blushglow--reacting to Trudy's state of undress as he scooped her up
and moved her to safety!
     "Dammit, Intern, you always had the WORST sense of timing!" shouted


The answers may be found withing the karmatic soul of the questioner,
but I would check SFSTORY CSNOTICE anyway, just to make sure.

***** Appended 02:28:42 on 09/30/88, Posting #    21 *****
Subject:     People in the river are sad to drown
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

In a junkyard located near New Orleans, which is situated near the Mississippi
River that flows on the North American continent of a third-rate planet
orbiting a tenth-rate star, a pair of odd looking individuals wearing sweat-
stained velour shirts wandered aimlessly.

They were former members of the Association of Extremely Dedicated Watchers of
Star Trek Who Dress Like Crew and Pretent We Have Phasers, or AOEDWSTWDLCPWHP
for short, an acronym which is utterly unpronouncable yet they insist it makes
perfect sense in Vulcan.  I say former because they had recently been kicked
out.  It seems they pissed off the High Spock and he ordered Security to shoot
them with 'phasers on kill' or some such garbage.  But I digress.

Ronald and Norman were wandering aimlessly in search of a '78 Pinto, for which
they had instructions for the process of making it into a warp driven craft.
It had yet to occur to either of them that they did not possess the necessary
mechanical skill to even recognize a '78 Pinto, let alone perform high
precision work on them.  The lack of parts, such as antimatter inducers and
mega-guass fluxors, that the pamphlet they were holding said was required for
such a conversion did not seem to bother them too much.  This could be taken
as an indication of their dedication.  Or stupidity.

"Is that a Pinto over there?" asked the one in the blue velour shirt.

"Shut up, Ronald," hissed the one in the yellow velour shirt.  "That's a
stationwagon.  Jeez, and you're supposed to be a science officer."

"Well, just excuuuuuuse me," said Ronald.  "Klingon cruisers, those I can
identify.  I can pick the serial numbers off a Kzinti drone at ten hexes.  I
can even repair shields while under fire.  But nowhere in my briefing material
was there listed the criterion for locating and identifying the carcass of a
'78 Pinto in a junkyard."

Norman waited until Ronald ran down.  "That's not my problem," he said as he
pointed to his own yellow shirt.  "I'm in command, and I gave you an order to
find a Pinto.  Get to it!"

As Ronald ran off to look for a Pinto, Norman began looking for a place to
catch a nap.  Ronald ran until he was out of Norm's line of sight, then began
to do similarly.  He had just stretched out when he heard a voice.

"Hey, you asshole," said the voice, which seemed to be eminating from he
body of one of the automobiles he was leaned up against.

"Gulp," said Ronald.  He hadn't seen talking cars in any of the episodes.

"I heard you're looking for a '78 Pinto," said the metallic voice.

"Uh," began Ronald.  "Well, that is..."

"Well, go tell your friend you found one," the voice ordered.  "And make it
snappy.  We have to get this thing spaceworthy as soon as possible."

Ronald was already gone.  He quickly found Norman and shook him awake.  Norman
was not exactly happy to be awake, as he was dreaming he was the sole judge in
a contest between an Orion and a Deltan to see which race was the better lover.
"Shut up, Ronald!" he bellowed.

"But, Norm!" Ronald shouted excitedly.  "I found a '78 Pinto and it wants to

"Wants to help?  Are you getting too much oxygen?"  Norm's mind raced for a
few moments, then decided that nothing could be lost in humoring his only
crewmember.  Besides, it was probably another stationwagon.

"Here it is," said Ronald a short time later.  "Say something, Pinto."

"Go to hell," said the Pinto.  "But first, convert this carcass into a warp
driven craft."

"Uh, right," said Norman.  "We have a slight problem, though.  We don't have a
lot of these parts."  He held the pamphlet up to one of the Pinto's headlights
and indicated an entire page of parts.

"Silly humans," mumbled the Pinto.  "You can use an atom emulsifier instead of
the dilithium destabalizer.  You should be able to rig one up from that old TV
set over there.  You can forget about the cryonic regeneration chamber if you
modify that blender over there to..."

"Yes, sir," said Norman, who knew when he was outranked.  "By the way, what
shall we call you?"

"Since 'God' is already taken," said the Pinto.  "I guess you can call me
Omegas.  Now get to work!"

Ronald hummed to himself while he set about converting a kitchen sink to a
dilithium crystal purifying chamber.  "The U.S.S. Omegas...  kinda has a
nice ring to it."

"So does that bathtub over there," quipped Norman as he hacked up an old couch.

And soon the craft was finished.  It still looked like a junked '78 Pinto,
but Omegas assured them that it was a warp capable craft able to fly them
safely across the galaxy.  Or at least get me into low Earth orbit where I
can dump these jerks, he added privately.

"Now get in and start up," Omegas said.  "I feel 357 getting closer."

"Who's 357?" asked Ronald, as a science officer should know these things.

"That's not important.  Start preparing for flight."

Ron and Norm, still following Omegas' instructions and not knowing what the
hell they were doing, prepared the ship for flight.

***** Appended 14:45:31 on 09/30/88, Posting #    22 *****
Subject:     Wherein Bubba fixxes things up for a while.
From:        Nathan Irwin (UD140680 at NDSUVM1)

     While Zark Flyby prepared to atomize a hundred North Dakotans,
his ally and navigator, Bubba Wojohowitz (occassionally known as Bubba
the Wanton and Invincible Death Merchant from Hell) raced to his cabin
at the back of the ship.  Upon entering his cabin, Bubba crouched by a
trunk, in which he stored his personal belongings.  He pulled out what
appeared to be a large, black calculator, in a a black leather case.  The
claculator, however, had only fourteen buttons: the numbers 0-9, and
buttons marked "On," "Yes," "No," and "Cosine."  The "Cosine" button, in
all honesty, did absloutely nothing at all - it was put there so that the
calculator would not have thirteen buutons (thirteen being an unlucky

     Bubba removed the calculator from its case, and pressed "On."  The
screen on the calculator displayed the following:

          "Incredibly Holy Fixxitup Device"
          "Enter Spiritual Security Number"

     Entering his Spiritual Security Number, Bubba remembered the time
he was given the IHFD, by his best friend, St. Peter.  It had happened
just after Nathan had arrived in Heaven, and announced that he would be
using Bubba in his plotline (see old volumes of SFSTORY CSNOTICE for

     "Take THIS, Bubba," St. Peter said, pressing a strange device into
Bubba's palm.

     "What IS it, Pete?" asked Bubba.  Bubba was one of only three beings
who could get away with calling St. Peter "Pete."  Anyone ELSE who tried
it usually ended up being SMOTE.

     "It's an Incredibly Holy Fixxitup Device.  Use it only when you are
in the greatest of danger.  It will save your skin and fix everything up,
at least until you get into trouble again.  But use it wisely - it only
works once."

     "Are you sure I'm going to NEED this, Pete?" asked Bubba.

     "Unfortunately, yes.  I sneaked a peek at The Book, and saw that
you would need an IHFD before your adventure was through."

     "Gee, thanks, Pete." said Bubba, as he vanished in a display of
pyrotechnics that woould have given Steven Spielberg wet dreams, had he
seen it.

     And now, having entered his Spiritual Security Number into the IHFD,
Bubba read the new text on its screen:

     "WARNING! Use of this deice may be a violation of the Jeff Smith"
     "accords, which prohibit gratuitous use of divine beings and/or"
        "divine power.  Do you wish to use this device?  (Yes/No)"

     Bubba muttered a short prayer, and pressed the "Yes" button.

     At that moment, Zark Flyby, Time Police First Lieutenant, and
commander of the WS Edwin Meese III, was about to annihilate the North
Dakotans and their fighters.  Suddenly, the huge, heavy, and totally
useless bank of electronics, under which he was standing, fell, knocking
him unconscious and pinning him to the floor.

     Then, the Meese III's laser cannons fired themselves, at maximum
power, at the North Dakotans.  However, the beams they fired were pure
gold and purple, rather than their usual sickly green.  The beams
instantly hit the North Dakotans and their planes.  However, instead of
being blown into billions of microscopic particles, the planes simply
disappeared with a loud "Bwap!"

     The one hundred F-18 reappeared in their hangars, fully refueled,
at the Minot Air Force Base, Minot, North Dakota.  The one hundred North
Dakotans reappeared in their living rooms, as did fifty-nine thousand,
nine hundred OTHER North Dakotans, who had been left at Minot AFB.  None
of them had even the slightest recollection of the events of the last
four months.

     And, finally, in a small cafe in Disneyland, a tourist named Billy
Guardian disappeared, only to reappear in the cabin of the Meese III.

     "Gee," said Billy, now aboard the Meese III, "Where am I?"

     "You're on board the WarpShip Edwin Meese III." responded Bubba,
who had returned to the bridge, and was now helping Zark to his feet.
"Sorry I had to do that to you, Zark, but it was the only way.  No hard
feelings, okay?"

     "None." muttered Zark, as he and Bubba shook hands.

     "So whadda we do about this new guy?" asked Louie.

     "Since the IHFD brought him here, we must need him for something.  I
guess we find him a cabin and add him to our crew.  Maybe he's the key to
our blowing up Dvax5."  Bubba said, as he prepared to give Billy a tour
of the Meese III.

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

     "What will you do NOW, Master?"  hissed Lackey at Slavevm, "Not only
are Flyby and the others still alive, but now the Hated One is among
them.  It is only a matter of time before they discover your secret and
track you down."

     "SILENCE!" It shrieked, "I am not yet defeated.  When Flyby brings
the Hated One here, he will be forced to invoke his superaccount to
attack me.  When he does, he will die, along with the others.  Now leave
me alone.  I must plan......."

     And, so, Lackey at Slavevm slinked out of It's chamber.

***** Appended 20:50:35 on 10/02/88, Posting #    23 *****
Subject:     The imps deliver the goods
From:        Beth L Jones (Weredillo) (C465904 at UMCVMB)

I.  Imp Lie:  A bit of a delay

As we enter current time, Imp Lie is still on his way to deliver his
portion of the copy of The Book to Corpcorporation.  Part of this delay
is due to the fact that Lie is not incredibly bright and has not bothered
to find out just where the crafts he stows away on are going.  Part is
due to the fact that Lie doesn't particularly want to deliver his portion
yet--Lie loves fun, and there's enough fun in the pages he holds to last
several of his humorous bent a very long time.

But, the biggest part is the fact that the author isn't ready to
introduce Corpcorporation to the plot yet, and will therefore leave Lie
chuckling heartily away, in the cargo hold of a spacecraft heading the
exact opposite direction to where he should be headed.

II.  Imp Losian:  If you can't bring Mohammed to the mountain....

Imp Losian was not much one for subtlety.  His habit of expressing his
ideas in one-word sentences and letting others figure the context is
much analagous to the author's choice to just say that Losian reached
the Destructionvax5 satellite and not bother with the details of how
he got there.

Just kidding....

To be honest, there are easier ways to get to Dvax5 itself than through
the contents of a much-sought-out computer disk.  How many hundreds, nay
thousands of SFStory entries have passed, with how many losses and
findings of said disk and no real progress made to finding Dvax5, until


Gargavax Oolavant's Guide to the Universe relates this mercifully short
history of Sirius V:
In the late 20th century of Earth, a great increase in the amount of
paparazzi rumor led the governments of Earth to exile all yellow
journalists to Sirius V.  Opportunistic creatures that they were, the
journalists thrived on the planet and formed their now infamous data
center, The Rumor Mill.  Today, anyone with a rumor and a Rumorcard
can take them to an Automatic Rumor Machine (ARM), and send his rumor
directly to the Rumor Mill.  The Mill sifts out the obviously true and
obviously old, and prints the rest in a daily microfiche tabloid which
is read by bored housewives across the universe.


Losian had only to go to the surface of Earth and use his Corpcorporation
(R) Rumorcard to send out this simple rumor:  "Sources have it that Imp
Losian has The Book."  He rented out a hotel space in the Bahamas, sat
on the beach and scoped out chicks, drank exotic liqeurs in beachside
taverns, and waited.

Within two weeks, a sleek FTL spaceship landed not yards away from where
Losian lay sunbathing, and a harried but proper-looking green four-armed
creature approached Losian.

The creature leaned over Losian's supine form.  "Imp Losian?"

"Yes."  Losian gave no other indication of having noticed the creature.

"Ahem.  Your presence is required by the Destructionvax5 core, by reason
of your possession of information valuable to Its purpose.  You are
requested to come with me."

Losian shrugged.  "Ok."  He stood up from his beach towel, grabbed his
copied portion of The Book from the sand, and followed the creature to
the waiting spaceship.


Dvax5 eyed the imp:  swimming trunks, sunglasses, foolish grin, and
dripping sand all over Its floor.  It shivered a bit to think what
sand could do to Its delicate circuits.  It glared at the green creature,
who tried his best not to look at It.

"Boom," Losian beamed.  He had finally got to meet Dvax5.

"You have something I want."  Dvax5 got right to the point.

"Here."  Losian offered the smudged, sandy pages to Dvax5.

The green creature snatched them out of his hand.  "I'll take care of
this," he said, and whisked out of the room.

"You've served your purpose," Dvax5 said to the somewhat disgruntled imp.
"I don't really want the whole universe to know about this, so you do
understand that I must eliminate you."

Losian shrugged.  "Try."

Which Dvax5 did.  Several times.  After trying lasers, electric shocks,
sonic attacks, and even bullets, It finally gave up.

Losian cleaned his nails.  "Earth."

"All right, have it your way.  I'll set up a ship for you.  At this
point it'll be a blessing getting rid of you."

Losian grinned at the unconscious irony of Dvax5's statement.

III.  Imp Irvious:  A quest complicated

Irvious reached Time Central in record time.  He'd been following
Quooth's activities for some time, and knew exactly where phe was at
any given moment.  Quooth delighted him; phe seemed so much a Heavenly
experiment that had gone awry somewhere along the line.  Phe showed that
even Heaven wasn't perfect!

Time Central was in chaos, so it was a simple enough task for Irvious to
get through its patched-up security systems.  He looked at himself in a
hallway mirror to check his disguise, and went on to Quooth's temporary

Quooth, at the moment, was packing up some things in preparation for phis
return to his homeworld, Wzaxtil.  Lieutenant Cobalt was going to
accompany phim, and this suited phim just fine;  phe was glad to have
someone with phim who could skillfully pilot a spaceship.  It would
take a while for Cobalt to finish up his business in Time Central, and an
even longer while for Time Central to outfit a spaceship in a way such
that a three and one-half foot high blue turtle could pilot it.  In the
meantime, Quooth could meditate on phis Quest and come to no more
sound conclusion than phe had any other time.  Phe had barely begun his
meditation when there was a knock on phis door.

"Enter," phe called.

Imagine phis surprise to see an angel come in!

Well, it looked like an angel... sort of.  It had wings and a halo.  But
the halo had fallen a bit off center, and since when did angels have
bright orange-red skin?  Quooth decided to be polite.  "Welcome.  What
do you wish to discuss with me?"

"It's like this, Quooth.  You've been on your Quest way too long.  So
Heaven, in conjunction with Altiverse #233don'tryitauthorsonly, has
decided to bestow this tome upon you, with our best wishes for a happy

"What is this?" Quooth held the copied portion of The Book as though phe
was afraid to touch it.  With good reason--the copy was dog-eared, ink-
smudged, and in general not incredibly healthy-looking.

"(unrepeatable word)," grumbled the angel, as one of its wings fell
askew.  It straightened itself out and said, "Pal, Heaven did not get
where it is today by telling all of its purposes to its followers.  We
have to remain mysterious, reveal our secrets a bit at a time, while
creating new ones to keep the devout guessing.  It's a matter of faith,
mostly.  You know?  Figure it out yourself!"  With that the angel
turned on its heel and stomped out of Quooth's lodgings.

"How strange," Quooth murmured to phimself.  "How very, very bizarre."
As phe muttered and mumbled phe flipped through the pages in phis hand
(or what could most easily be considered a hand on a four-foot high
grasshopper), glancing over them.  Phe was dubious about that angel, but
the document phe held may provide some interesting reading for dull
lapses in phis journeys.

You know the rather exaggerated image of a frightened person--bugged
eyes, stiff limbs, hair standing straight on end?  In insects, well at
least the inhabitants of Wzaxtil, such a fear reaction is similar--eyes
already buggy become even more bugged, every numerous limb goes stiff,
antennae straighten (insects have no hair).

Quooth looked exactly like this, then promptly proceeded to faint dead
away.  On several pages of the sheaf phe held, was printed phis own


For the answers to these and other silly questions, stay tuned to

***** Appended 23:15:43 on 10/02/88, Posting #    24 *****
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