Sfstory Log 060

=========================================================================
Date:         Mon, 22 Feb 1993 22:50:00 EST
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         welcome to pleasantville (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode three

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: SPAM ON PATROL
Episode three: "Tessio, Tessia, Tessier" by Gary W. Olson

     "We're leaving overly-hyped space, Lark," BRENDA said.  "Planet Karma
Chameleon II is within visual range."
     "Put it on the screen," Lark Purree, aka Time Agent 90210, said.  The
viewscreen lit up, showing a planet covered with lush green forests, brilliant
azure oceans, scintillating orange clouds, pink hearts, blue diamonds,
orange...um, things.  There was also a large metallic object in orbit around
the equator.
      "Hmmm," Lark said.  "That shouldn't be.  BRENDA, identify the ship
in orbit around Karma Chameleon II."
      "Operational configuration matches that of an orbital mining platform,
for final processing and loading onto cargo ships.  It is currently active."
      "Interesting," Lark said.  "Bilge never mentioned a mining platform,
active or inactive.  Any indications on what it is they're mining?"
      "That is unknown," BRENDA replied.  "However, the orbital site is
directly stationed over the approximate area where the Renegade Anarchists
were reported to have originally encountered some natives of the planet...
Lark!  We're being scanned!"
      "Quick!" Lark replied.  "Engage scan-deflect.  Set course one one six
mark two seven nine.  Brew some strong cappucino."
     "Scan-deflect engaged," BRENDA reported.  "They appear able to penetrate
scan-deflect shields.  They've launced two interceptors to investigate.
     "Damn," Lark said, looking around.  "Where did my sideburns go?"
     "Look under the table, darling," BRENDA suggested.  Lark looked under
the table, and saw his sideburns snuggled against the thermal power trans-
fintoozler, their snores trilling lightly.  When he reached under and grabbed
them, they gleeped and wiggled with surprise.
     "Sorry, you two," Lark told them, "but we've got an emergency."  He
reattached them to the cyberports just in front of his ears, and felt his
integrated Sageware Defense-Master 7.0 module kick in, as the sideburns
accessed his software library buffer and established a link path between it
and his mind.
     ))Input situation,(( the Sageware instructed.
     "Have encountered suspicious activity around Karma Chameleon II," Lark
said.
     ))Mining?(( the Sageware asked.
     "Yes, how did you know...?"
     ))I was written by the Sage, who knows everything!(( the Sageware replied.
))Have the interceptors started firing yet?((
     The interceptors fired, their bright muave laser beams slicing past
The Shannon into the depths of space.
     "They just did," Lark said.
     ))First thing you do is set a course for the surface of the planet.((
     "BRENDA," Lark ordered.  "Set a course for the surface of the planet."
     "But Lark," BRENDA protested.  "That will take us closer to the
platform..."
     "Do it!" Lark demanded.
     The Shannon slammed on it's engines and tore towards the planet.  As
the platform loomed closer, Lark noted that the usual ownership markings on
it were suspiciously covered with what looked to be a large grey piece of
cardpaper.  The interceptors, not prepared for Lark's move, shot past his
ship, and swung around for pursuit.  The station itself started firing plasma
cannon and super-shur-kil turrets, but the clever path that BRENDA wove for
the Shannon to follow managed to elude them all.
     ))Okay, so far so good,(( the Sageware continued.  ))Now, accelerate.
Make like you're going to smash into the planet!((
     "But..." Lark started.
     ))Just do it!((
     "BRENDA, accelerate for the surface, as though we were going to smash
into it."
     "But..." BRENDA started.
     "Just do it!"
     A burst of speed kicked in and the Shannon leapt down towards the dense
jungle foliage of the surface.  The interceptors, heedless of the danger,
followed at top speed, their laser weapons buffeting the ship.
     "Lark!" BRENDA exclaimed.  "We've lost port thruster!"
     ))Uh oh,(( the Sageware said.  ))You needed that to pull up.((
     "So what do I do now?" Lark asked, while the sideburns analyzed and
discarded seven billion possible thrust-vector combinations that the ship had
still available.
     ))Um...well...the Sage didn't write anything about that,(( the Sageware
said in a sort of embarassed tone.  ))See, he only wrote me to make a quick
buck.  Maybe if you order version 8...((
     "Impact in four seconds!" BRENDA announced.
     "Brace for impact!"
     CRASH!
     --------------------------------------------------------------------
     "Nice place," Emma Goldman said, looking around at the solid gold and
platinum lined cathedral-sized room.  "How much does it cost to heat this
place?"
     "More than you could possibly imagine," Tane Tessier's manager, who had
introduced himself as Bob Nonotthatbob, said.  "Ms. Tessier will be out in
a moment.  Will your crew be ready?"
     "Of course," Emma said.  "Right guys?"
     "No problem!" Jerriphrrt chimed, as he and Slithis began assembling what
looked like a vid camera.  Benjen worked on the sound equipment, while
Shadebeam and Tarrfel set up the lighting.  Robert Smith moped about, looking
depressed.
     "What's his job?" Bob asked, indicating Smith.
     "He's the producer," Emma said, thinking quickly.  "How's it going,
cheif?"
     "I'm really depr..."
     "Delighted!" Emma said.  "He's really delighted."  Tarrfel reached around
from behind Robert and hooked her fingers on either end of his mouth, and
lifted the ends up to simulate a smile.
     "I see," Bob said.  "I'll go see if she's ready."  As Bob the manager
left, one of the James Deans peaked out of the trunk.
     "All clear?" James(xiv) asked.
     "For the moment," Jerriphrrt said.  James(xiv) and James(mclxvii) got out
of the camera trunk and stretched their synthetic legs.
     "You know, that Bob guy looked an awful lot like you guys," Shadebeam
said.
     "He probably is one of us," James(mclxvii) said.  "There are a lot more of
us than most people think."
     "What should we be looking for?" Slithis asked.  "We've been on Planet
Tessier for four days, waiting to see Tane Tessier, and not one suspicious-
looking item, aside from the James Deanish look of the manager, has occured
to our persons."
     "Don't complain," Shadebeam replied.  "They've paid the bill ever since
we told 'em we were from Galactic Revolution, the galaxies most influential
music critique vid-magazine and tractor-pull event chronicler."
     Just then, the large, glittering rhinestone-studded door opened, and
Tane Tessier strolled in.  Her soft black hair was styled in an elegant
coiffant, her eyelashes were drawn at just the right length over her
stunning orange-gold eyes, and her lips were a very telegenic shade of
magenta.
     But what they most noted was not her face.  It was her body - or, rather,
the clothing that her body lacked.
     Now, understand, the Renegade Anarchists had been on Barbados a scant
six days before, and had seen some fairly stunning sights there.  In fact,
seing stunning bodies was a fairly common occurance on Barbados.  But this
one had them all beat.
     "Ms...Tessier..." Emma started.
     "Please, call me Tane," she said.  "Are you ready to start the interview?"
     "Yes," Emma said.  "But aren't you going to...well...um..."
     "Yes?"
     "...put something on first?"
     "I thought you knew," Tane said.  "I do all my concerts and interviews
in the nude.  It's part of the reason I'm so staggeringly popular and wealthy
these days."
     "She only recently joined," Robert Smith said.  "Sort of depressing, the
kind of help available these days."
     "Slithis," Shadebeam said.  "Are the cameras going?"  She paused.
"Slithis!"  She hit him on the shoulder.  Slithis blinked, as if coming out
of a trance.
     "Whatdidyousay?" he asked, dazed.
     "Turn on the damn camera, you big green oaf," Shadebeam hissed.
     "Oh...um...right..." Slithis said, flipping a switch on the vid-camera.
A small red light came on.
     "Thank you for joining us, Tane," Emma said.  "This interview will
be going out to zillions of sentients galaxy-wide, who have made you the
biggest singing sensation in the galaxy in just under six months time.  What
can you tell us about yourself?"
     "Well, I've always loved singing," Tane said, as she swayed in front
of the camera.  "And dancing.  And making fun of third-order quanta and
neuron-positron energy waves.  Now, with my new fame, I get a chance to do all
three."
     "Can you tell us anything else?" James(xiv) asked.  "For instance,
whether you know anyone who would be plotting to endanger the galaxy with
Spam Lite?"
     "You know, that's the second time I've been asked that question today,"
Tane said, tossing her hair back and stretching out on a silken couch.  "Like
I told the others, I haven't heard anything about it, but it sounds serious,
and I'll keep an ear out."
     "Others?" Jerrphrrt whispered to Benjen.  "What others?"  Benjen shrugged.
     "Have you ever met anyone named 'the Omnidean' or met anyone who looks
like James Dean?" Tarrfel asked.
     "Aside from those two, no," Tane said, as she proceeded to roll about on
the couch in a seductive fashion, while pointing at the James Deans.  "You
know, they look a lot like Bob..."
     "But I don't smoke a pipe!" James(mclxvii) complained.
     "Notthatbob," Tane said.  "The other one."
     "Oh, yeah," Jerriphrrt said.
     "Can we talk about my new album?" Tane asked.  "I'm doing a vid tonight
for the lead single, 'Beer and Spam Bender Weekend with a Meat Cleaver and
You'.  The song itself was written by my manager, and deals with the
ethological implications of hacking up Sean Penn and Whitney Houston..."
As she rolled, she swung her foot out in a sort of seductive fashion.  It
struck one of the supports for the camera tripod, and the heavy vid-camera
came crashing down on Tane's head.
     "Tane!" Bob exclaimed, rushing into the room.  "Are you all right?"
     "Ow..." Tane said.  "Did we get that Toaster yet, Bob?"
     "My lady?"
     "The Toaster!" Tane declared.  "The one we've been following for...oh my!
I'm not wearing any clothes!"
     "Hell," Bob said, getting out a tire iron and whacking Tane across the
skull.  Tane slumped back in the chair, and said, woozily, "did I mention that
I'll be doing a duet with Kenny Rogers and Tiny Tim?"
     "Multiple personalities," he said.  "Sometimes, one must be hasty."
     "Yes, I know where to look for the Omnidean," Tane said.  "You must go
to Parafeit Minor, and seek out Bata."
     "What does Bata look like?" Shadebeam asked.
     "I don't know," Tane said.  "Bob, get my clothes, and cancel the
concert.  I'm going with them to help them find Bata."
     "What do you need clothes for?" Shadebeam asked.
     "It would be indecent to go nude in private," Tane answered.  "I only
feel comfortable, naked, if there's no less than a quarter billion sentients
looking at me.  Any less and it's entirely deplorable."
     "Oh, no you don't," Bob replied.  "We've got a contract.  Don't make me
call out the MegaBot."
     "Come on," Benjen said, laughing.  "One robot, against all of us?  You
must be joking."
     A huge set of doors opened, and a very large, crimson robot, with a single
red eye that pulsed angrily, and enough weaponry primed on the Anarchists to
wipe out all of them and blow away half the wall behind them bristled on it's
red body.
     Benjen gulped.  "Guess not."

WILL THE ANARCHISTS ESCAPE FROM MEGABOT?
WILL TIME AGENT 90210, HIS SIDEBURNS, HIS SAGEWARE, AND HIS AI SURVIVE THE
     CRASH?
WHO OWNS THE MINING PLATFORM?
WILL BATA KNOW WHERE TO FIND THE OMNIDEAN?
WILL HE OR SHE KNOW WHAT THE OMNIDEAN PLANS TO DO WITH SPAM LITE?
WILL HE OR SHE KNOW WHAT BARS ARE OPEN LATE ON PARAFEIT MINOR?
ALL THIS AND STROBE LIGHT-A-GO-GO ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date:         Tue, 2 Mar 1993 21:19:00 EST
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         welcome to pleasantville (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode four

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: THE SEARCH FOR SPAM
Episode Four: "It Ain't Easy Bein' Dean" by Gary W. Olson

     "Okay, everyone, stay calm," Emma Goldman counseled, as the Megabot,
bristling with deadly weaponry, treaded the air, advancing on herself and the
other Renegade Anarchists.  "Perhaps it will be reasonable."
     "It won't be," Bob said, from the other side of the huge room.
     "Does this mean we can panic, then?" Slithis asked.
     "Or be depressed?" Robert Smith added.
     "No," Emma said.  "But I do think it would be a smashing time to...run!"
She whipped out a can of red spray paint from a pouch at her belt and spray
painted over Megabot's single glowing crimson eye.  The robot fired just as
Emma dodged out of the way.  Blinded, Megabot fired at random.
     "Stop!" Bob cried.  "You're missing them entirely!"
     "This way!" Jerriphrrt called, holding open the door they had came in.
     "Sorry, Bob," Tane Tessier called back to her manager.  "I'm taking a
break for a while.  Put out a greatest hits CD or something while I'm gone,
will you?"  She waved, and then disappered through the doorway, pulled by
Shadebeam and Tarrfel t'Krodkzik.
     Bob fumed, watching Megabot blast through a wall and wander into a
lavatory, which it started to demolish.  His master would not be pleased that
he had lost Tane Tessier at such a critical juncture.  But it had to be
reported.
     He removed a small com-unit from his vest and flipped it open.  The small
screen showed only static.
     "This is James(xxiii)," he said.  "Request permission to speak with
James(i)."  The small screen static resolved into a picture of someone who
looked remarkably like he did.
     "Report," James(i) ordered.
     "Tane Tessier has been abducted," Bob/James(xxiii) reported.  "By James
(xiv) and James(mclxvii).  The Anarchists were with them, as well."
     "You fool," James(i) said.  "She is critical if our plan is to succeed.
Fortunately, our operation on Karma Chameleon II has not yet reached a critical
stage.  You have time to recover her.  Do you know where she is going?"
     "She is taking them to Parafeit Minor," Bob answered.  "To see Bata."
     "Listen to me very carefully, James(xxiii)," James(i) said, darkly.  "If
they talk to Bata, the plan may become fatally compromised.  The Omnidean will
not be pleased if he has to take action himself to correct the situation."
     "I understand," Bob said.  "I will set after them at once."
     "Out," James(i) said.  The screen filled with static once more.
     ---------------------------------------------------------------------
     "Ow," Lark Purree commented.  It seemed to sum up his situation, so he
repeated it.  "Ow."  "Ow ow ow."
     After a few more minutes of this, it occured to him that he wasn't dead,
even though he felt like it.  The air smelled sweet and rich, and the colors
shaping in his eyes were lush and green.  Experimentally, he sat up, and
repeated his mantra ("ow") for another few minutes.
     Eventually, his eyes focused, and he found that he was in a jungle of some
sort.  He lifted his hands to the sides of his head and patted in front of his
ears, and sighed with relief.  His sideburns were there, unconscious, but
alive.
     "Looks like I got thrown from my ship on impact," he said, looking at the
smoldering wreckage around him.  "Wonder where those interceptors went."  He
saw two smoldering clouds nearby, which answered his question.
     "Ow," he said, as he got to his feet.  "Hey, wake up, guys," he said,
patting his sideburns gently.  One gleeped, while the other just sort of
groaned.  "I know, I know, but look on the bright side.  We're alive."  There
was more gleeping.  "No, she must have died in the crash.  I don't see how
she could have survived..."
     "Dylan!" a female voice exclaimed.  Lark whirled (or tried to whirl -
what actually resulted was more of a stunted spinning wobble), and saw a small
sperical bit of metal, about the size of a bowling ball, hovering in front of
him.  "I'm so glad you survived!  I'd feared the worst!"
     "BRENDA?" Lark asked.
     "Did I forget to mention I have a scout body for extra-ship missions?"
she asked.  "The minute you ordered me to dive for the planet, I started
transferring all my files into this.  It's a bit cramped in here, but I'll
manage okay."
     "Wonderful," Lark replied.  "And I'm not Dylan.  I'm Time Agent 90210.
Or Lark Purree."
     "Oh, that's right," BRENDA said.  "I keep forgetting that.  So what are
we going to do now, Time Agent 90210?"
     "Haven't really gotten to that part, yet," Lark said.  "Was busy saying
'ow!' up until a few moments ago.  What's our location?"
     "I was doing some scouting," BRENDA said.  "There's a large mine directly
to the south, about thirty kilometers.  We should be able to make it there by
nightfall."
     "I don't suppose you could carry me?"
     "Captain?"
     "I mean, fly me through the air, using your anti-grav units."
     "I'm sorry, Lark," BRENDA said.  "I don't have sufficient power to lift
your weight.  But I wouldn't mind it if you wrapped your sexy arms around
me and--"
     "Thank you, but no," Lark said.  "Let's go.  Time's a'wastin'."
     BRENDA sighed and flew southward, scouting ahead for Lark.
     ---------------------------------------------------------------------
     The Red Emma blasted into space, leaving Planet Tessier behind in a matter
of moments.  Inside, the crew hustled, preparing to enter Overly-Hyped Space.
     "X Drive is on-line," Benjen reported.  "I've just tossed in a fresh
supply of unlicensed 'X' t-shirts."
     "We're getting the course to Parafeit Minor in now," Tarrfel said.
"Feeding it from the nav'puter to the main console."
     "Engaging X Drive," Jerriphrrt purred.  There was a jolt, and the stars
became brilliant streaks of light, and the blackness of space became a dull
sort of grey.
     "I'm terribly sorry about this," Tane Tessier, who had put on an elegant
red blouse made of the silk from an extremely rare variety of Malthusian
Ska-Worm and some black trousers she had borrowed from Benjen.  "I didn't
think Bob would react like that.  He's always been so supportive before."
     "They can fool ya," Shadebeam said.  "If yer not careful."
     "They can also depress you," Robert Smith said, as he slumped in a
couch.
     "Can't you say anything without remarking on how depressed you are?"
Shadebeam asked, annoyed.
     "I've tried," Robert said.  "But doing so always depresses me."
     "Arrrgh..."
     "Can you tell us anything about this 'Bata' you said we have to
talk to?" Emma asked.
     "Not much," Tane answered.  "All I really know is the name, and that
he failed his test for an omniscience account by one point.  He claimed
that it was the Omnidean's fault, but the judges wouldn't accept that excuse.
So, he became bitter, and swore revenge on the Omnidean."
     "And he went to Parafeit Minor, seeking revenge?" Slithis asked.
     "No, he mostly went there to get drunk," Tane said.  "The Omnidean is
awfully tough to find, and finally he said 'the hell with it' and retired.
But he might be talked into telling you what he knows about the Omnidean
and his hiding place...if you can meet his price."
     "Our credit line is pretty large," James(xiv) said.  "I'm sure we
can pay whatever he requires."
     "I don't know what his price is," Tane said.  "All I know is what Bob
has told me.  He also said that I was important to the Omnidean, though I
think he was just making that part up."
     "Did Bob say anything else about the Omnidean?" Shadebeam asked.
     "No," Tane said.  "He only told me this one time, when he got somewhat
inebriated on Kallistan grape juice."
     "Then we'll just have to wait and see," Emma said.  The ship flew on,
towards Parafeit Minor.
     -----------------------------------------------------------------
     Bob/James(xxiii) paced the bridge of the TTS (Tane Tessier Service)
Au Natural, which generally functioned as Tane's luxury ship that carried her
from concert to concert when she was on tour, surrounded constantly by
guard warships left over from her unremembered days as a marauding art
collector.  Tane had not returned to being an art collector, but the ships
were about to maraud again.
     By the railing that ran along the edge of the command deck, which
was lofted above the rest of the bridge, where the rabble scurried, Megabot
hovered silently, it's single crimson eye glowing garishly, it's red body
freshly buffed and waxed.
     "You know, it's your fault," Bob said, finally, pointing his finger
at MegaBot.  "We would have had them, if it weren't for your blundering."
MegaBot sank a bit, looking ashamed.  "You could have simply waited for me
to get the paint thinner, but no, you had to keep blasting away till you
ran out of ammo."  MegaBot sank even lower, and looked deeply hurt.
     "Now, now," Bob said.  "You'll get a second chance, you know.  Cheer
up.  Yes, that's better."  MegaBot lifted up a little, and it's eye glowed
brighter.  "There we go.  A chipper robot is a good robot."
     "Sir!" a tech from below called up.  "The ships are ready to enter
overly-hyped space."
     "Very good," Bob called down.  "Proceed."  As the ship leapt into
greyspace, Bob smiled.  "Soon..." he whispered.  "Everything will be
just fine."
     -------------------------------------------------------------------
     "I see it," Lark hissed.  "How many guards do you count?"
     "Ten," BRENDA replied, her voice amps low.  "They're evenly spaced out
in a ring formation around the mine encampment."
     "That should give me enough room to squeeze by," Lark said.  "Lead the
way."  BRENDA flitted down the densely foliated path she had mapped out for
Lark.  Sure enough, within moments, they had broken from the jungle, and
found themselves in the mining camp.
     A huge barge lumbered skyward, carrying a huge load of whatever was
being mined from the planet.  The heat was formidable, and Lark wondered how
deep they were burrowing.
     "Quite an operation, this is," Lark said quietly.  "This is no fly by
night operation.  These people are professionals."
     "Lark, over there," BRENDA hissed.  "See the tall building?"
     "Yeah," Lark said, as his sideburns augmented his night vision and
telescoped his visual range.  "I see it.  It's probably the administrative
works.  Built for easy extraction, so that management can split in case of
a crisis.  What about it?"
     "Do you see the symbol on the side facing east?"
     "Um...yeah...you know, now that you mention it...it does seem sort of
familiar..."
     "Halt!" a hostile voice shouted.  "Who goes there, friend or foe?"
     "Kind of a silly question to ask, isn't it?" Lark replied, turning to
face the huge, imposingly armored fellow who was advancing on him, gun
raised.
     "Eh?" the guard asked.  "What do you mean?"
     "Well, if I said I was a foe, you'd blast me, right?" Lark asked.
     "Um...yeah..." the guard said.
     "And if I said I was a friend, I could pass."
     "In theory, yes."
     "So what is my incentive for saying I'm a foe, when I could lie and
say I'm a friend?" Lark inquired.
     "Now that you mention it," the guard said.  "I dunno.  I'll have to
think about it after I blast you."  He squeezed the trigger of his gun, but
nothing came out.  "Oh, bloody hell," he commented.
     "I've drained his power cells," BRENDA said, hovering out from behind
the guard.  "Kinda feel overpowered.  Man, am I jazzed."
     "Great," Lark sighed.  "Hurry!"  As lights stabbed out from watchtowers,
he sprinted across the compound, towards the building.  He saw a streak of
blue laser fire hit BRENDA, knocking her to the ground, and spun just as
another streak hit him square in the chest, sending him into darkness.

WILL TIME AGENT 90210 SURVIVE?
WHAT IS THE FAMILIAR SYMBOL THAT HE SAW?
WHAT IS BEING MINED ON KARMA CHAMELEON II, AND HOW IS IT CONNECTED WITH THE
     OMNIDEAN'S PLANS?
WHY WASN'T SPAM LITE MENTIONED IN THIS EPISODE?
WILL MEGABOT GET IT RIGHT THE SECOND TIME?
WILL THE ANARCHISTS BE ABLE TO MEET BATA'S PRICE?
ALL THIS AND THE PRICE OF KNOWLEDGE ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date:         Sat, 13 Mar 1993 19:56:25 EST
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         Jesse Taylor (Jesse.Taylor at LAMBADA.OIT.UNC.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Near Space Three (1/5)

           DRAKKARIM AUDIO/VISUAL ENTERTAINMENT
                  IN ASSOCIATION WITH
                         Z'KO
                    HAPPILY PRESENT

                    NEAR SPACE THREE
               (a deep space nine parody)

               GRAPHICS BY YouCantSeeUmHaHaHa, Inc.

               VOICE ACTORS BY Carl 'Chop-Shop' Macek

               SPACECRAFT BY Mega-Armadas, Inc.

               FUNDING PROVIDED BY The National Association for the Arts

(------)

     "Lt. Cmdr. Ha'Veluri of the BIG Alliance Navy reporting for duty.",
the huge, rather fuzzy, part-time mercenary Veluran said, saluting sharply.
     "Ah. Please sit down, Lt. Cmdr."
     Ha'Veluri nodded and calmly seated himself in a most excellently
upholstered chair, making a consious effort not to pick at the fabric with
his claws.
     "Lt. Cmdr.", the aging Gonar officer said, "Do you know about the
Bore-an star system?"
     Ha'Veluri pondered a moment. "They make cheap smartware systems for
neural-networking."
     "And?"
     "Um... They're the quadrant's leading supplier of synthetic diamonds."
     "AND?!"
     "And...uh...and Bore-an bartenders mix a damn good martini, sir."
     "Excellent.", the Gonar officer said, wriggling his antennae with
delight, "So, you can understand why we're assigning you to the Bore-an
system?"
     "Whaaat?!", Ha'Veluri said, loosing his cool and beginning to pick at
the fabric of the officer's recliner. "But the Bore-an system is
controlled by the Noclon Star Empire!! I thought we had finally negotiated
peace with them!"
     "No.", the Gonar sighed, "We haven't negotiated peace. It's only a
pause, for the Empire and the Alliance to catch their breath and
consolidate their forces. You well know that neither side has gained much
ground in this war."
     "The Noclons took the Haratid star system a month ago...then we took
it back...then they raided it... good point, sir."
     "And that both sides have been losing more ships than either can
build - or buy from the Traders."
     Ha'Veluri nodded. The Noclons had recently begun retrofitting some of
their really old ships - no more than museum pieces - to try and reinforce
their assaults on the Alliance.
     "So, the Noclons have abandoned the Bore-an system to use the ships
they had there to fortify the Jikail cluster."
     "So why does the Alliance want the Bore-an system?", Ha'Veluri asked,
puzzled. "Do we have some use for their smartware?"
     "No."
     "Some new, secret weapon using synthetic diamonds?"
     "Nope."
     "You don't mean...?"
     "Yes.", the Gonar officer said, "You're being sent to the Bore-an
system to safeguard their martini supply for export to the Alliance
homeworld."
     Ha'Veluri sat silently for a moment, then raised himself up to his
full 6-foot 5-inches and stared down at the pudgy Gonar. "This has to be
the stupidest assignment I've ever heard of."
     "So you wish to be reassigned?"
     "No.", Ha'Veluri said quietly, "I'll _do_ it. I just think it's stupid."
     The Gonar raised an antenna, then picked up a notice. "Your ship, the
Merc I, will be escorted to a space station in orbit around Bore-an by the
Evif, a Babylon-class destroyer. You are to cooperate with the Bore-an
government whenever possible, but you _must_ secure the martini supply.
Understood?"
     Ha'Veluri growled, "Yes, *SIR*.", saluted sharply and left the room.


(------)

     "Ve are approachink the Bore-an space station...Near Space Three,
sir.", Check Off said, keying in some commands on the Merc I's
newly-replaced control center.
     "Signal the Evif to wait around a moment until we get settled.",
Ha'Veluri said, straightening his uniform. "Signal the Bore-an commander
to prepare for docking."
     "Aye, sir.", Check Off said, deftly bringing the Merc I alongside a
massive docking pylon of the space station. The airlocks of the station
and the ship locked, and there was a hiss of air.
     "Airlock integrity 100%, shutting down main systems.", Check Off
said, flipping some switches and then pulling the key out of the ignition.

(------)

     Ha'Veluri was slightly surprised not to see anyone at the airlock
when he emerged. He peered around for a moment, suspecting an ambush, but
nothing happened. Bored, he wandered out into the hallway.
     The hallway was a wasteland, with bits of the walls, circuits,
styrofoam hamburger packages, and the occasional mangled body lying here
and there.
     "What the hell happened here?", he wondered out loud, poking through
the rubble with his foot.
     "The Noclon empire.", a female voice said from behind him, "This was
their space station, but a Bore-an anarchist sabotaged the stardrive, and
they had to leave it behind. They were rather pissed, so they wrecked the
place."
     "Who're you?", Ha'Veluri asked, putting away the several dozen
weapons he had instinctively readied.
space station, but a Bore-an anarchist sabotaged the stardrive, and they
had to leave it behind. They were rather pissed, so they wrecked the place."
     "Who're you?", Ha'Veluri asked, putting away the several dozen
weapons he had instinctively readied.
wandering around the back of her head and attaching itself to her right
ear then wandering in front to her nose before tracing up her forehead and
becoming lost in a tangle of reddish-brown hair. [gasp choke!]
     Major Leer-a leered at him.
     "No, really!", Ha'Veluri grinned.
     "Come on up to the bridge.", Leer-a said, obviously annoyed, "I'll
introduce you to the command staff."

(------)

     "This is the bridge.", Leer-a said in a tour-guide voice, "On your
left you see the primary drive-controls with the lithium-fusion power
level indicators that are plainly built during the reign of the Noclon
Emperor Obnoxious. On your right you see the weapons console and
teletransporter controls..."
     "Zzzz.", Check Off commented, dozing lightly in the back of the Lift.
     "Teletransporter?", Ha'Veluri said, "This place has a teletransporter?!"
     "What's wrong with that?"
     "I thought they were hideously expensive!"
     Leer-a chuckled. "Nah. They're actually ridiculously easy to build.
It's just that they take up a huge amount of power, not to mention loads
of CPU time to hold the transporter buffer... I'm surprised more bases
don't have them. They're infinitely cool... Plus all the nifty special
effects..."
     "Is that the bridge crew?", Ha'Veluri asked incredulously, pointing
at an overweight human who was waxing one of the panels.
     "Huh? Oh, no, that's the janitor. Hmm... Where _is_ the bridge crew?!
Computer?"
     "Working."
     There was a long pause.
     "Computer?"
     "Working."
     "Aw, hell.", Leer-a muttered, checking a display. "They've convinced
our computer it's a VAX again!"
     "Where would the bridge crew be besides the bridge, anyway?",
Ha'Veluri asked, growing more confused by the minute.
     "Quirk's bar 'n grille. C'mon."

(------)

     "Wow.", was all Ha'Veluri could say upon looking at Quirk's bar. A
pair of Cher clones were doing a sing and dance routine on a makeshift
stage while a multiheaded hydra-type creature downed a vat of Purple Haze.
A Beigian accountant sprawled on a table, stoned out of his mind. Dozens
of weird creatures talked and drank weird, toxic chemicals.
     And this was just the hallway outside.

     "Ah, here we go.", Leer-a said, helping Ha'Veluri drag Check Off away
from the Cher clones. "Blob! Slacks! Brazier!! Why the hell aren't you on
the bridge?!"
     "Like, chill, boss-lady.", the person identified as Brazier said,
leaning back in his chair, "Can't we take a break, like, sometimes? Who's
the tool of the military-industrial complex with you?"
     "He's our BIG Alliance rep.", Leer-a said, "Don't ask me why we need
one, but he's here."
     "It doesn't seem logical that we would need BIG Alliance
intervention.", the person identified as Slacks said, "We are, in fact,
entirely self-sufficient."
     "Excuse me...", a tinny voice said quietly from behind them, "But
would you care to order drinks?"
     "?!", Ha'Veluri said, whipping around to see a Trader holding a menu
and a tray full of bizzare liquids.
     "Yeah, Quirk.", the person identified as Blob said, stretching his
neck out to five feet to take a look at the menu. "Hmm... Let's try the
Industrial Bleach Cocktail."
     "Of course.", Quirk said without blinking, handing Blob a frothing
cup of liquid that was trying to dissolve it's container. Blob downed it
in one gulp and burped loudly.
     "RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!!", a klaxon blared, "NOCLON WARSHIP HAS
ENTERED TH SYSTEM!! RED ALERT!!"
     "Drek!", Ha'Veluri and the rest of the bridge crew said, in unison,
sprinting for the lift.

CAN THIS POSSIBLY GET ANY WEIRDER???
WILL HA'VELURI COMPLETE HIS MISSION AND SECURE THE MARTINI SUPPLY???
WHAT ARE TO *THIS* TIME???
LEER-A? SLACKS? BRAZIER?? BLOB???
ANYONE NOTICE THE REFERENCE TO ANOTHER SF SHOW IN THE NAME OF THE BIG
ALLIANCE WARSHIP???
AW, C'MON...

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT SOON, ONLY ON...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date:         Mon, 15 Mar 1993 22:59:00 EST
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         mass confusion (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode five

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: THE VOYAGE SPAM
Episode Five: "What's That? Plot's Out of Order?" by Gary W. Olson

     Lark Purree blinked, as colors swam around his eyes.  Most of the colors
were black, so he surmised that it was dark.  But he could make out a shape
that was leaning over him.  He could feel that he was on his back, on a futon
of some sort.  The warm tingling from the stun shot he had taken to the
chest had not entirely faded.
     "Rest," the person looking over him, female, judging from the voice,
said.  "The guards said you'd be all right - no permanent damage."
     "Not unless I get my hands on them," Lark mumbled.  Colors resolved into
images, and a particular image that he found very pleasing.  "Tell me, are
all the nurses here as gorgeous as you?"
     She laughed a little, her unkempt black hair shifting as she did.  "I'm
not a nurse," she said, her voice like music.  "I'm a prisoner, like yourself.
My name is Gham."
     "Gham!" Lark exclaimed, sitting up suddenly, causing Gham to fall back-
wards.  He had a chance to appraise the rest of her.  "I see you're still
wearing your leather jacket."
     "How do you know me?" Gham asked, backing away.
     "Don't be alarmed," Lark said.  "I was briefed on the identities of key
members of the native tribes of Karma Chameleon II, for my mission here.  I'm
Time Agent 90210, but please call me Lark."
     "A Time Agent?" Gham asked.  "Oh...I remember...there was another Time
Agent that I knew, when I was voyaging with the Renegade Anarchists..."
     "Time Agent 173," Lark said.  "I met the ship just after you disembarked
and took her back to Time Central."  His sideburns, having revived, started
augmenting his senses, and the darkness immediately moved away (to someplace
nice, like the Hamptons...*slap*).  He could see that Gham, while showing a
few bruises, was intact and not starving, not to mention rather shapely.
Shaking his head, he looked past her, and saw two others, watching him from
what they likely thought was an area too dark to see.  "After hearing her
report, it was decided that an agent should be sent back to gather data on
changes to native culture in the wake of the Anarchists' visit.  Unfortunately,
it would seem that the changes are much bigger than we had anticipated."  As
he spoke, he looked around for the small, spherical form of BRENDA, his AI,
but it was nowhere in evidence.
     "It can't be blamed on them," Gham said, pulling her legs into a sitting
position.  "Interplanet didn't arrive until two months after they had gone."
     "Interplanet!" Lark exclaimed.  "No wonder that symbol looked familiar...
but what are they doing here?"
     "It's a rather long story..." Gham began.
     "I've got time," Lark said.  "But perhaps one of your friends would like
to tell it."  There were two startled gasps.  "Come out, please.  We're all
friends here, I hope."
     "My name is Katayin," one of them, a female said.  "This is Benchen, my
mate."
     "Hello," Benchen said, waving a bit.
     "The problems started when the Interplanet factory ship descended from
the sky, one night four years ago..." Katayin started.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "Okay, we've got landing clearance," Tarrfel announced.  "On course for
Dreezldrozzl City, the capital of Parafeit Minor.  We'll be there in ten
minutes."
     "Great," Emma said.  "Now, how do we find this 'Bata' once we've landed?"
     "He will find you," Tane Tessier replied.
     "Well, I guess that does take some of the guesswork out of it," Jerrphrrt
mused, his tail holding a portable holocorder, which he was testing.
     "Anyone want some music?" Shadebeam asked.  "I've got the latest from
Sisters of Mercy that I haven't listened to since we left Barbados."
     "Not now," Slithis said.  "We'll be landing in just a few minutes."
     "Who's going to guard the ship?" Benjen asked.  "Parafeit Minor's a
pretty rough planet."
     Everyone looked at him.
     "Besides me, I mean," he added.
     "How about Robert?" James(mclxvii) asked.  Everyone turned to look at
Robert Smith, who was busy lying face down on the couch.
     "Being left on guard depresses me," he said.
     "Everything depresses you," Shadebeam told him.
     "I know," Robert replied.  "Depressing, isn't it?"
     "Arrrgh..."
     "Then it's settled," Emma interrupted.  "Robert will guard the ship."
     "We've landed," James(xiv) announced.  "Everyone out who's getting out."
     "Could you leave the Sisters of Mercy CD?" Robert asked.  "That would make
me marginally less depressed."
     "Whatever," Shadebeam said, setting the CD on a nearby table.  "But you'd
better not scratch it..."
     "Come on, let's go," Benjen said.  The Anarchists and friends, minus
Robert Smith, exited the Red Emma, and the hatch closed behind them.  Robert
Smith stayed face down on the couch, wondering how to start the CD with the
fewest number of actual muscular movements.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "Sir!" a tech called.  "We've arrived in orbit around Parafeit Minor!"
     "Very good," Bob/James(xxiii) replied.  "Have you located the Red Emma
yet?"
     "Yes, sir," the tech said.  "They've landed planetside, at Dreezldrozzl
Spaceport."
     "Send two detachments of troops down to the surface," Bob ordered.
"The first will be targeted on retrieving Tane Tessier and annihilating the
Anarchists.  The second will be targeted at destroying their ship, in case the
first unit bungles things."
     Megabot hovered over to Bob and looked at him rather plaintively.
     "Oh, all right, you can go too," Bob sighed.  Megabot bobbed in the air
happily, and zipped into the turbolift.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "We hadn't expected anything," Gham said, while Lark Purree listened
attentively.  "My people were out hunting, and we were reclining in our temple
playing 'Battleship' when there was a huge rumbling in the sky.  It was a
clear day, so we went outside to see what was happening.
     "It blotted the sun, it was so big.  Black and sinister looking, like
an archangel of darkest night, only metallic and with all sorts of hooks and
barrels and protrusions.  Ships launched from it and strafed the ground around
the village.  Many of us died in that initial attack.
     "When the hunters returned, arms at ready, the huge ship had already
landed, crushing our village.  The company soldiers poured out and shot the
villagers with stun tazers.  They were put into chains, and forced to work in
the mine that the huge black mining platform had dug before ascending back into
the sky, to act as a dark moon above us.
     "Katayin, Benchen, and myself, being the gods and goddesses of the United
Tribes - the Ottsamaddawidu, the College Republicans, and the Various Other
Minor Tribes - were taken prisoner, and kept here, to force the survivors to
mine for the company.  Many were put to death - Ragnuruk, Nat Rephue,
Nootgingitch, and Viol among them.  It's been like this for four months now."
     "What is Interplanet mining?" Lark asked.
     "Styling gel," Katayin said.
     "Oh, I see...huh?" Lark asked.
     "Apparantly, there are huge reserves of styling gel miles under the crust
of our planet," Benchen said.  "They say it could take decades to drain it
all."
     "You've got to help us get out of here," Gham said, leaning forward to
touch his hand.  Lark looked down at her hand and up at her.  "Please?"
     "Well, seeing as I am to get out of here myself, I guess it would be on
my way and all," Lark answered.  "And I think I know how, too."
     "How?" Katayin asked.  "The cell bars are too heavy to bend or break, and
they're too thin to squeeze through.  And you were disarmed before you were
brought here."
     "Not entirely," Lark said, reaching for his sideburns.  He detached them,
and blinked for a second, as his sensory enhancements clicked out and he was
plunged into darkness again.  He cradled them in his hands.  One of them
gleeped a question to him.  "That's right," he answered.  "You know what to
do."
     He felt around until he found the cell bars, and set his sideburns down on
the steel floor.  The sideburns started gimbaling forward, past the bars, and
slowly into the prison corridor.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "You're sure he's going to be here?" Emma asked, looking around.
     "That's where Bob always said he met Bata," Tane replied.  "The Cream
Lemon Tavern, in the Hentai Quarter.  The sleaziest dive this side of Barbados,
as he put it."
     Jerriphrrt, Slithis, and Benjen looked around the bar, taking in it's
sordid sights and appealing bodies.
     "I don't know," Jerriphrrt said.  "It's a bit derivative of the Miyu
Sensory Stimulation and Neurophile Pub on Barbados.  However, the beer has a
special zip to it, and the atmosphere isn't pretentious.  I'm giving this one
a marginal thumbs up."
     "I totally disagree with you," Slithis replied.  "The beer is good, I'll
grant you, but there's no sense of extreme moral depravity, and absolutely
no stage show to speak of.  Plus, I might add, I've heard all the jokes on
these napkins.  I'll have to give it a thumbs down."
     "Well, I have to agree with Jerri," Benjen said.  "True, the moral
depravity is not what it should be, but it's early still, so you have to take
that into account.  Plus, that waitress in the g-string over there just
winked at me.  I'm giving this place an enthusiastic thumbs up."
     "Will you knock it off?" Shadebeam said.  "I haven't even had a chance
to light up yet."
     "There's someone entering now," Tarrfel said, pointing to the enterance.
A huge form was lumbering through the smoke, mist, more smoke, and fog that
obscured the enterance.  A crimson shaft of light poked through.
     "That's not Bata," Emma hissed.  "That's Megabot!  They've followed us!"
     "What will we do?" James(xiv) asked, sounding a bit despondant.
     "Act naturally," Shadebeam counseled.
     "My natural impulse would be to run like hell," Jerriphrrt said.
     "Mine too," added Slithis.
     "Halt!" a loud voice called.  Megabot had been joined by a squad of
soldiers, wearing red and lavender, the colors that Tane insisted that they
wear, after she lost her memory of being a marauding art collector.
     "I suggest we give in to our natural impulses," Emma said.  "Run away!"
The Anarchists ran away, with Megabot and Tessier's troops in full pursuit.
     --------------------------------------------------------------------
     After a depressing effort, Robert Smith managed, finally, to get the CD
into the CD player, and back to the couch.  It was another ten minutes before
he realized he had forgotten to push 'play', and this depressed him a great
deal.  Almost so much that he didn't hear the sounds of knocking on the
hull of the Red Emma.
     But he heard the sounds, which depressed him.  After debating whether it
was really worth his while, he sat up and flipped on the external cameras,
which showed a large detachment of soldiers in red and lavender setting up
a rather nasty looking laser cannon, which was aimed in the direction of the
Red Emma.
     "Hello in there!" a megaphone-amplified voice said.
     Robert flipped on the external speakers.  "Go away," he said.  "I'm
really depressed right now."
     "We can't," the soldier said.  "We're here to destroy your ship."
     "Can you do it some other time?" Robert asked.  "I'd like to be left
alone right now."
     "Sorry, but we're on a bit of a schedule, you know," the soldier said.
"Look, if you come out now, we'll take you prisoner back to Bob's ship, and
you can be alone all you want."
     Robert thought it over, clearly tempted.  "No," he finally said.  "I'd
rather be depressed here.  The cushions are better."
     "Very well!" the soldier said.  "Mind you, I don't like doing this.  But
a job's a job.  If you don't come out now, by the time I count to three, this
laser cannon will fire!"
     "This isn't helping my depression any, you know."
     "One...two...THREE!"

WILL THE RED EMMA BE TOTALLY ANNIHILATED?
WILL THE ANARCHISTS BE CAPTURED BY MEGABOT?
WILL THE ANARCHISTS FIND BATA?
WILL THE CREAM LEMON TAVERN GET BETTER REVIEWS FROM OTHER CRITICS?
ALL THIS AND SPAM-A-LAMA-DING-DONG ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date:         Tue, 16 Mar 1993 23:52:00 EST
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         mass confusion (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode six

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: THE SPAM FRONTIER
Episode Six: "Can Robert Come Out And Be Depressed?" by Gary W. Olson

     "THREE!"
     The laser cannon fired, striking the shields of the Red Emma, which
Robert Smith had thoughtfully turned on at the last second.  The shields
absorbed the energy, and spat it back at the cannon, obliterating it.
     The soldiers surrounding the Red Emma paused to take in this new
development.
     "You didn't tell us you could do that," their leader finally said.
     "You didn't ask," Robert Smith said, speaking through the external
speakers.  "Depressing, isn't it?"
     "I'll say," the lead soldier said.  There were some discussions among
the soldiers around the ship.  "Say, are you going anywhere for the moment?"
     "No," Robert replied.  "I'm too depressed."
     "Ah, good, good then," the lead soldier answered.  "We'll be going,
then..."  The soldiers quickly got into formation and marched away.  Inside
the Red Emma, Robert Smith sighed and flopped back down on the couch, still
formidably depressed.  He contemplated pushing the 'play' button on the CD
player again.
     ------------------------------------------------------------------
     "This way!" Jerriphrrt yelled.
     "No, this way!" Tarrfel t'Krodkzik insisted, yanking Jerriphrrt into
the left alleyway, where Emma Goldman, Slithis, Shadebeam, Benjen, Tane
Tessier, James Dean(mclxvii) and James Dean(xiv) had already run.  Behind
them, Megabot fired laser beams furiously, causing the garrulous crowd
on the garrulous shady side street in Dreezldrozzl City on Parafeit
Minor to get the garrulous hell out of the way.  Megabot was followed by
a group of armed soldiers, who were doing their best to look menacing while
still hiding behind Megabot's laserproof body.
     "Dammit," Emma cursed.  "This alley's a dead end!"
     "We're cornered!" Slithis wailed.
     "Ah, stop whining and start shooting," Shadebeam told him, getting out
a sizeable phase-pulse omni-rifle and blasting at Megabot, who had just
turned the corner.  The phase blasts simply splashed off of Megabot's
crimson armor, which was coated with Pam so that laser burns wouldn't stick.
     "We sure could use a convenient plot twist right about now," Benjen
said, ducking as a blast from Megabot roared above him.
     "Psst!" a low voice said, somehow rising above the din of the battle.
     "Who said that?" James(xiv) asked.
     "I did!" the voice hissed.  "This way!  Quickly!"
     "Where are you?" Jerriphrrt asked.
     "Down here!"
     They looked down, to see an upraised slab of concrete, which had been
cleverly disguised by a half ton of miscellaneous Stephen King novels, some
of which had never been written in other dimensions (yours, for instance):
'The Shinning', in which a kid scrapes his shin and turns into Jack
Nicholson, 'Carrie Out My Wayward Son', the horrific exploits of a cook in
an oriental restaurant who opens a delivery service, 'Cujo Spare a Dime,
Brother?', in which kids raise money to take a rabid dog to obedience school,
and many, many others, too pointless to name.  There was an arm beckoning
them to climb under the concrete with the owner of the arm.
     "How can we trust you?" Emma asked.
     Megabot advanced closer through the convenient fog, firing more blasts
that blew up most everything around them.
     "Never mind," Emma said.  "Everyone in!"  One by one, the Anarchists
and friends piled in, and the concrete slab slammed down.  Everything was
dark until the owner of the arm lit a match.
     "You seek Bata," he said.
     "Yes," Tane Tessier.  "Do you know where he is?"
     "Take you to him, I will," the man said.  "Not far.  Bata not far."
     "Listen, dickweed, save the cheesy lines for 'Calforce'," James(mclxvii)
said.  "Are you Bata?"
     "No," the man said.  "Happy now?"
     "Yeah, sorta," James(mclxvii) said.
     "You sound...familiar..." Emma said.
     "I should," the man replied.  "It's been a long time since I've seen you,
Emma.  Far too long."
     "You can't be here..." Emma said.  "You can't have escaped from Hell."
     "Who says that Alexander Berkman escaped from Hell?" the man, presumably
Alexander Berkman, said.  "I never went."
     "Alexander...it *is* you..." Emma said.  There was a pause, then the
sound of Alexander Berkman taking a fist to the face.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     Robert Smith had just gotten around to pressing 'play' on the CD player
when he heard some sounds outside.
     "What now?" he asked, switching on the external speakers.  "I'm too
depressed to deal with this right now."
     "Land shark," a voice replied.
     "What?" Robert asked.
     "Um...pizza delivery," the voice answered.
     "I didn't order any pizza," Robert said.
     "Free pizza," the voice said.  "Special promotion."
     "Go away," Robert told the voice.
     There was a pause.
     "Pool shark," the voice said.  Robert switched on the auto-defense system,
and experienced a break in his depression of about .00000023 seconds when a
laser blast sounded and the voice screamed loudly and continued making loud
noises as it faded into the distance.  Robert flopped back onto the couch.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "What are they doing?" Gham hissed, hooking her chin over Time Agent
90210's shoulder as Lark gazed out the bars and down the darkened corridor.
     "They're going to get to the guard post," Lark whispered.  "After that,
they've got to defeat the guards, silence the alarms, and open the cell door."
     "How can they do that?" Katayin asked.  "They're just two little..."
     Abruptly, the cell door opened, nearly causing Lark and Gham to fall flat
on their faces.  Benchen helped them stand up.  Quietly, they tiptoed down the
hallway, towards the lit guard post at the end of the corridor.  They stepped
inside, careful not to step into the pieces of shredded flesh or the bloody,
mangled corpses that were strewn about the room.  In the center, the
sideburns stood, their little breathing sounds rather like that of a well-used
squeak toy.
     "Nice job, you two," Lark said, picking up his sideburns and nuzzling
them.  The sideburns gleeped and nuzzled Lark's face before he reattached them
to their cyberports just in front of their ears.
     "They did all this?" Gham asked, looking around at the bloody carnage
that surrounded them.
     "Well, they *are* trained combat sideburns," Lark answered.  "Now, to
find BRENDA..."
     "What do you need this BRENDA for?" Gham asked.
     "She may be neurotic, but she's my responsibility," Lark answered.
"Besides, she's probably the only one who can override the whole security net
and get some juicy nuggets of information, such as why Interplanet is interest-
ed in styling gel so much."
     "Can't these two do it?" Katayin asked, indicating the sideburns.
     "They're specifically coded to interface with my internal cyberdecks,"
Lark replied.  "BRENDA's a general applications kinda gal."  He punched up some
numbers on the screen.  "Okay, I got a general schematic.  BRENDA should be
on the fifth floor...looks like they just tossed her in with some junk."
     "I've got the guards' weapons," Benchen said.  "Though they could stand to
be washed off a bit."  Lark, Gham, Benchen, and Katayin left the guard post,
sneaking deeper into the building.
     ------------------------------------------------------------------------
     *knock* *knock*
     "What now?  I'm really depressed."
     "Burglar!"
     "What?"
     "Burglar!"
     "You're not a burglar.  You're an encyclopedia salesman."
     "No I'm not, sir.  I'm a burglar.  I burgle people.  Honest."
     (laser fire)
     That was an unsuccessful encyclopedia salesman.
     ------------------------------------------------------------------------
     "You lost them...again?" Bob/James(xxiii) groaned.  On the screen,
Megabot looked very, very ashamed.  "Listen, you floating red toaster, if you
don't find them soon, you'll be reassigned to resetting parallel processors!"
Megabot quivered a bit.  "Now go!"
     Megabot fled the screen.  There was silence for a few moments.  A soldier
leaned in and said, "hi, mom!"  Another soldier bopped him, and a third
soldier, the 'lead soldier' we heard from earlier, stepped into the picture.
     "Well?" Bob asked.  "Have you managed to destroy the Red Emma?"
     "Um, not exactly," the lead soldier said.
     "Then you've partially destroyed it?"
     "Not that, either?"
     "Did you discolor the paint?"
     "Not particularly, no."
     "Then what happened?!?"
     "The Red Emma has much more formidable defenses than we had anticipated,"
the lead soldier said.  "Also, they have this really depressing guy who's
manning the weaponry.  We've tried to trick him out, but he's seen through our
most effective disguises."
     "He has," Bob sighed.
     "Not to worry, though," the lead soldier said.  "We've got one more trick
up our armored sleeves.  This one can't miss.  Works every time."
     "Well, then, go play it!" Bob exclaimed.  The lead soldier saluted and
left.
     --------------------------------------------------------------------
     "You hit me!" Alexander groaned, rubbing his nose.
     "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," Emma said, helping him up.
"It's just that I haven't seen you for almost a century now, and I searched
through the ships of Hell when I got there, and couldn't find you..."
     "Like I said, I wasn't there," Alexander replied.
     "Listen, I'm sure it's a really fascinating story," Shadebeam said.  "But
can we go see this 'Bata' guy now?  My feet are killing me, and I gotta have
a smoke."
     "Um, yeah, sure, this way," Alexander said.  They followed him down a
maze of underground tunnels and pipes, stopping only briefly to collect Ron
Perlman's autograph before heading on.  Eventually, they reached a small
door.  "He's in there," Alexander said.
     "You're not going in?" Emma asked.
     "I'm his guard," Alexander replied.  "I've got to keep a lookout while
he's here."
     Jerriphrrt opened the door, and they all walked in.  In the room was
a table, with nine chairs on one side, and one on the other.  The one chair on
the other side was currenly occupied by a man with a leathered, wrinkled face
that scowled at them as they entered.  He wore a simple earth-colored tunic,
and carried a crystal globe filled with peanut butter on the end of a long,
two-pronged walking staff.
     "I am Bata," he said.  "Welcome, Renegade Anarchists."
     --------------------------------------------------------------------
     There was a knocking sound on the hull of the Red Emma.  Robert Smith
sighed and turned down the CD, which was in the middle of Sisters of Mercy's
"Dominion/Mother Russia."
     "This is more depressing than last time," Robert groaned into the
external speakers.
     "Okay, okay, just don't shoot us!" the lead soldier said.  "You win.
We surrender."
     "You...what?"
     "We surrender!" the lead soldier said.  "Open the ship, and we'll
surrender directly to you.  We're totally unarmed, too."
     "Well, um, we don't really have any place to put prisoners," Robert
said.  "Kind of depressing, really."
     "I'm sure we can find something," the lead soldier said.
     "Well...okay..."
     Outside, the lead soldier watched the gangway slither down from the
Red Emma.  He turned to the soldier next to him.  "He bought it.  Are our
masters of unarmed death-dealing ready?"  The soldier nodded.  "Good.  They'll
go in first."

WILL ROBERT SMITH BE KILLED BY A MASTER OF UNARMED DEATH-DEALING?
WILL BATA TELL THE RENEGADE ANARCHISTS WHAT THEY WANT TO KNOW?
HOW DID ALEXANDER BERKMAN (ANOTHER ACTUAL HISTORICAL ANARCHIST, IN CASE YOU
     WERE CURIOUS) MANAGE TO AVOID HELL, DESPITE HAVING DIED ALMOST A CENTURY
     AGO?
WILL MEGABOT GET OVER IT'S LATEST SETBACK?
WILL LARK PURREE FIND HIS AI?
WILL HE LEARN WHAT INTERPLANET WANTS WITH STYLING GEL?
WILL WE LEARN WHAT ANY OF THIS HAS TO DO WITH THE OMNIDEAN OR SPAM LITE?
ALL THIS AND MOSTLY OMNISCIENT ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!