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Sfstory Log 063

Date:         Sun, 12 Sep 1993 00:03:00 EDT
From:         The Elusive North American Sabre (RUBICON at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF:  InterPlanet #9 (Synopsis of 0-8)

                              InterPlanet #9
                        "Wherein we relay a synopsis"
                   writ by the Automatic Story Transcriber
                          and passed off as Sabre's

     Given that it has been many months since this forum has been adequately
utilized, it behooves the cybernetic authorial construct which produces these
particular stories to update and synopsize what has gone before.  Therefore, we
present you this humble synopsis:

     Dashing Roger Corbin, Paleontologist and Opera lover, finds himself in
quite a quandary when the lovely but somewhat sexually confused Glenda Hull
locks him in a room with Reg LeCrisp, an antique dealer and skydiver.  Reg and
Rog hit it off so well that Reg is forced to kill and eat Rog to prove his
     Meanwhile, Atok the Star Barbarian lands and attacks the sparsely
populated but widely praised town of Beckerston, Iowa.  He immediately finds
himself enthralled by the peace and serenity of the town.  By his code of
ethics, however, anything that enthralls him must be possessed by him, which
drives him to conquer and enslave the town, burning it to the ground in the
process.  All seems lost for plucky Beckerston when a crack force of defense
dancers, lead by Plucky Debbie Gibson herself, arrive and begin to sing and
dance.  "Electric Youth" is enough to delay the invasion long enough for Atok
to kill every one of the dancers, and capture Debbie for his own.  He takes her
to his Flying Saucer -- the "Ray Kellogg," and mercilessly tortures her until
she is pliable, then implants behavior modification chips in her brain, making
her into Debbette the Hun.  The two go forth and finish subjugating the town.
NBC News is on the scene, and video of Debbette slashing, killing, and maiming
farm animals are broadcast across the country.  Record Sales increase
dramatically, and Polystar Records plans a summer tour, with Atok playing
percussion and atomizing sections of the audience.
     Meanwhile, quite a ways away, Young Toby Tyler finally realizes his dream
and runs away to join the circus.  He begins as a Popcorn and Peanut Concession
worker, but his boss tricks him out of his tips.  The clowns take pity on him
and train him to be a clown.  Several of the Darker Clowns make him a Brother
of the Clown Cult and together they gut and eviscerate the Head Concessionaire.
However, Toby is forced to go home to his parents, who henceforth are
terrorized by the Hideous Boy-Clown that has been unleashed into their midst.
They are saved by Reg LeCrisp and Glenda Hull, who take Toby the Boy-Clown and
domesticate him as a pet.  They are kind to him, though they consistently trick
him out of his tips.
     The Brothers of the Clown Cult, in the meantime, kill Vince McMahon --
president of Titan Sports and head honcho of the World Wrestling Federation --
in a mystic Clown Rite which is so horrid it cannot be paid for on our special
effects budget.  This has the effect of freeing Vince McMahon's intellect (such
as it is) and casting his essence into the void.  The essence rapidly begins to
dissipate, so Vince is forced to imprint his Personality on the only man he can
locate who has no Personality of his own to block his attempts at the merging.
     Much to Vince's surprise, he discovers he is now inhabiting the body of
the Vice-President of the United States, Al Gore.  He begins a program of
hostile takeover which eventually leads him to the Presidency.

     ***  Notes from the Automatic Story Transcriber  ***

     For those who are not aware, it should be mentioned that this story is not
actually written, per se, by Sabre (whose account it originates from).
Instead, Sabre procured a VM/CMS 999.9943 Automatic Story Transcriber, some
years ago.  This versatile unit is an access interface between the formless
imagination of Sabre's preconsciousness and the OmniVAX account system used to
create and propagate fiction in the Sfstory, Superguy, and other altiverses.
The Automatic Story Transcriber (or AST) then takes these random, pre-Jungian
streams of consciousness and reformats them into random, post-Jungian streams
of consciousness which follow the rules of grammar.
     Unfortunately, it has been a considerable amount of time since the
Automatic Story Transcriber has been active, and extreme amounts of raw data
have been filling the buffers of the system.  A selection of this raw data
barely reconfigured into normal sentence structure can be seen above.  Needless
to say, it is *not* a synopsis of  InterPlanets #0 through #8.  It is
recommended that readers ignore the preceding, unless they are licensed
psychoanalysts, in which case there may well be Doctoral Thesis material
implicit in the text.

     ***  End Automatic Story Transcriber Transmission  ***

     The *real* story so far.  There are no guarantees that it will be any
saner than the above, of course.

     As Sabre, in the Author's Altiverse, slumbers in a chair, a mysterious
female figure sneaks within his Authorial Home -- La Casa Violente -- and
surreptitiously interfaces and activates his Automatic Story Transcriber,
effectively resurrecting Sfstory from oblivion.  The AST begins to pattern and
create a story, pulling Matt Deforrest, Linda Madison, Radar, the Intern, and
Muck Luck out of the Home for Forgotten Sfstory Characters, altering their past
to eliminate their time in the Home, and setting them in place for the story
that shall take place.  The figure, having accomplished her mission, slips away
after concealing the AST and leaving it running.
     Muck-Luck  -- once the most enlightened man in any Universe, now merely
unemployed and bitter -- arrives on a Chartered InterPlanet WarpShuttle at the
massively huge Oracle2 Space-Station/Omnimainframe Computer system.  Oracle2 is
a purely omniscient computer system, which users access through accounts
encoded in their Brainwaves.  Muck-Luck meets with Demark, Director of the
Complaint Department, and complains that four years previous, his Omniscience
Account (SUPERBRAIN at Oracle2.omnivax.sage.div) was stolen from him and encoded
into the brain of Matt Deforrest, ex-president of Danielson Hall at the (now
destroyed) Boston University, commander of Camelot Command (once Enlightnment
Command, and stolen at the same time the account was), and Paladin and Patron
Saint of Hot Chocolate and other warm, tasty drinks.
     Matthew himself, in the meantime, is sitting in Camelot Command --
retired, which Paladins should never be.  He is bored out of his skull and
entering an advanced stage of despair, as is his Soulmate, Lifemate, partner
and fellow Paladin Linda Madison -- ex-astronaut, and Patron Saint of Lacy
Underwear and Warm Fuzzy Blankets.  The inactivity is killing both of them
slowly, and threatens to break them up forever.  The two of them are
redecorating the bedroom to give themselves something to do.
     Muck-Luck, back at Oracle2, makes his complaint.  It is determined that
the payments for SUPERBRAIN have been kept up, so the account has never been
nologged.  It is also determined that Muck Luck would *not* keep up the
payments, any longer.  The decision is made to remunerate Muck Luck for his
loss, and give Matt one month to apply for his account, or SUPERBRAIN would be
nologged (and therefore killed).
     Linda, in the meantime, gets fed up and screams at Matt for a while.  This
does not serve to advance the plot but it is cathartic for Linda, the Author,
and the Reader, all at once.
     Meanwhile, Omegas -- once one of the most powerful characters on Sfstory
-- languishes in the Home for Forgotten Sfstory Characters.  He is beaten in
Chess by Ralph the Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V.  He vaporizes an attendant,
and leaves the Home, determined to break into a plotline if he has to.
     Meanwhile, in Heaven (yes, it's quite a jump-cut), St. Peter and Archangel
Gabriel discover that The Book was gone.  This was the Master Plan of the
Omniverse, unchangeable save by Saint Peter and God.  Saint Peter -- never the
most pleasant of Saints -- grumbles, places blame, and stalks off to place a
Angel-to-Mortal call and get The Book back.
     Omegas stalks the endless grey of Netherspace, trying to find the egress.
He comes upon the nearly faded form of Ernst Flout (the Hero of Sfstory), who
reveals that Forgotten Characters either have to stay in the Home for Forgotten
Sfstory characters or remain in a plotline, or else their existence fades even
as they're forgotten.  This renews Omegas's purpose and (after getting
directions from Ernst) he goes through the Green Door to Realspace (Altiverse
001SF, the Sfstory Altiverse).  He leaves *before* Ernst can tell him that he
needs to be picked up by an Author in the Home, or he will fade away anyhow.
     Omegas appears in the control room of an obsolete F-T-L ship, the G.S.
Condemned (G.S. standing for Garbage Scow).  The Condemned's A.I., TIPPY,
informs Omegas that the ship's course is locked in -- the ship is designed to
be crashed into a Black Hole, and thereby the ship and the garbage are crushed
into Neo-Spam.  Omegas freaks.
     Meanwhile (there's that word again), Matt and Linda receive the call Saint
Peter was placing three paragraphs ago.  They're assigned to go and find The
Book -- without receiving a reward of course, since they *are* Paladins.
Immediately after they take the case, Matt receives the Nologging notice via
E-Mail -- a sentence of death for SUPERBRAIN.
     At this point, there's a lovely little digression involving fronds, which
I happen to think is about the funniest thing in the entire story.  However, it
is a digression and has no bearing on the story in general, thus we ignore it.
     Omegas decides to use his failing powers to transmute the F-T-L drive into
a Hyperdrive, and make the Hyperspace Jump into the Gravity Well of the Black
Hole -- which would most likely kill them, but that was still better than
definitely being killed.  He gets to work.
     Back at Camelot Command, Matt, Linda and SUPERBRAIN discuss the best
course of action.  Matt says he will simply go and apply for an account,
thereby saving SUPERBRAIN, only to be told that in order to qualify he needed
to answer a three-hundred and sixty-seven thousand, one hundred and fourteen
question test over pretty much any subject matter on any world.  The three
decide to go get the account first, since Divine Quests tend to follow a
winding path.  Matt and Linda, happy at last (since they were once again going
to be in mind-numbing danger -- to each his own, I suppose) kiss and prepare
the H.M.S. (Heroically Manned Ship) Millennium Trout for takeoff.
     Meanwhile (in *another* offshoot of an already convoluted plot) The Intern
-- Doctor Who parody, Licensed Space Hero, and all around good guy -- and Radar
Vogal -- brilliant Spamologist, Timelord's companion, Space Ingenue and
drop-dead gorgeous sunscreen lotion model -- complete an epic adventure where
they bring peace and prosperity to the entire P'Shuti Confederation and forever
win their respect after a quest which, all told, sounds like it would be a lot
more interesting and exciting than the one you're reading now.  After they
board the Intern's beer-keg shaped TARDIS, they debate what their next move
should be.  They decide to return to Intersteller University, so the Intern can
complete his Space Heroism Ph.D. and Radar could do Postgraduate work in
Advanced Pseudoscientific Engineering.
     But, the best laid plans of mice and men go awry, as the TARDIS is
buffeted by what seems to be a devastating Tachyonic Explosion -- which
everyone knows is impossible.
     But Omegas doesn't know that -- as just minutes before he completed his
Transmutation and jumped to Hyperspace right into the Event Horizon of the
Black Hole.  Reality melts away and strains the effects budget.
     Radar explores 12th Century France, while the Intern works on the TARDIS
omniversal sensor array.  She goes to a tavern, only to discover that as a
pretty woman who smells good and is clean, she is *begging* for assault.
Radar, of course, merely wants to return to the TARDIS and not cause any
trouble, so of course she is grabbed and restrained by the Church.
     Matt and Linda make their last minute preparations and shove off, flying
into the darkness of space looking for adventure, excitement, and really wild

     ***  Notes from the Automatic Story Transcriber  ***

     The debts owed to Douglas Adams and the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Series by a story such as this are, of course, immeasurable.  However, it is
rare that Mr. Adams is quoted so directly, as the convoluted plagiarism laws we
follow say *concepts* cannot be copyrighted, while *text* can be.  Therefore,
while it is painfully obvious to even the most uninformed of readers that
`derivative work' is a barely adequate euphemism for `ripping off wholesale'
and that both terms describe this story, we still must make mention that the
last sentence of the last paragraph is a direct quote from "The Restaurant at
the End of the Universe."  Thus we are legally covered, and may continue to
happily pick at the literary bones of Mr. Adams.

     ***  End Automatic Story Transcriber Transmission  ***

     Back in 12th Century France, Radar -- who decides to give the name
`Esmerelda' rather than a plainly anachronistic name -- is accused of having
the mark of the devil and temptation upon her.  In fact, she is accused of
having two marks of the devil and temptation upon her.  They want to burn her,
but she throws herself on the mercy of the Catholic Church (which is quite
humorous if you think about it).  The priest declares that she shall confess
her sins and be shrived, and somehow makes the sacrament of confession a sexual
     The Millennium Trout, meanwhile (you *do* remember the Millennium Trout,
don't you?), cruised at Warp Four.  Matt and Linda were necking and otherwise
kissing passionately, which is very romantic but didn't leave anyone on watch.
This turned out to be a mistake as the ship's starboard engine nacelle was
sheared off by an easily avoided dust particle struck and many thousands of
times the speed of light.  The two found themselves alive, but without
artificial gravity...or life support.
     Meanwhile, Omegas (remember *Omegas?*  You know -- the one who'll fade
away?  Right....) woke up (after a few false starts) and discovered that the
last thirty feet of the ship had been ripped off, along with the Hyperdrive and
the Maneuver Drive.  However, they have plenty of power because the ship
converts the garbage into energy, with the by-product being an edible grey
paste that tastes almost exactly like a very delicate Chicken Kiev, with
steamed broccoli on the side, garnished with lemon -- though there is a hint of
red wine where white is clearly called for.  However, the ship bumped into
something -- which without external sensors, neither Omegas nor Tippy could
     This didn't last long, of course.  After a nice meal, the sensors were
fixed and determined that the ship was a badly damaged Class IV WarpShip,
missing an engine nacelle.  He quickly maneuvered the two ships into a vaguely
sexual linkup, using the Condemned's power and the other ship's drive system.
     Of course, the other ship was the Millennium Trout.  Now, you might think
it an incredible coincidence that Matt and Linda's breakdown happened right
next to Omegas's breakdown, given how mind-numbingly large space is.  What I
haven't mentioned in this synopsis yet is Linda's power of Deus Ex Machina --
part of her Paladinhood -- which insures that whenever Linda is in horrendous
danger, she is saved.  The method of saving might not be comfortable though.
     Matt and Linda themselves, in the meantime, are trying desperately to
repair the Millennium Trout's life support, only to discover they're being
hijacked.  The two don't look a gift rescue in the mouth, however.  Instead
they decide to beam over to their `attackers.'
     Yes, it looks like a convergence of plotlines.  Yes it does.  But don't be
fooled quite yet.
     Meanwhile, eight centuries back in time, Radar is brought into her first
confessional ever.  Radar fends off the priest's attempts at amour and
confesses, but her penitence is to strip naked and submit to the Hickory Stick
of Righteousness.  Radar politely declines through Tae Kwon Do, and escapes the
confessional only to be confronted by a lot of dangerous looking farmers and
even a couple of guards.  This is inauspicious for the first plotline Radar's
ever had all to herself.
     Meanwhile, in YET ANOTHER plot, the Assistant Vice President of Covert
Operations and Cheese Dip in the Quasaristic 900,000 company InterPlanet is
monitoring a woman at Ithaca College on Earth, despite his InterPlanet offices
being on the fourth planet orbiting the star Desternatus.  The woman in
question, Christine Anderson, had just been rejected by NASA to join the crew
of the second Star Shuttle (the first having been the focus of the VERY FIRST
Sfstory plotline and therefore far too much in the past for me to bring up now,
save that Linda Madison was a crew member of it).  She is accosted by a robot
which is very much like the Terminator, and she faints.  The robot contacts
InterPlanet and reports that it is in position.
     Meanwhile, back in space, Matt and Linda beam off the Millennium Trout and
onto the Condemned.  However, you'll recall I mentioned that Linda's Deus Ex
Machina isn't necessarily comfortable?  Well, just you wait.
     Meanwhile, the Assistant Vice President of Covert Operations and Cheese
Dip orders Christine and the robot Telstargated to Desternatus IV.
     Meanwhile (sort of, as it's back in time) Radar's accosters decide to burn
her, and drag her to a stake out in front of the Church.
     The Intern fixes his TARDIS, and only now begins to notice Radar is gone.
He isn't particularly worried, of course.
     Remember when I mentioned that bit about Linda's Deus Ex Machina?  Well,
imagine our heroes' surprise as they appear in the middle of the Condemned's
Garbage Hold.  This would be okay (if embarrassing) save that the garbage
they're sitting in is *just* about to be processed into chickenlike food and
lots of energy.  This is a heck of a cliffhanger, if you think about it.
     And, as if on cue, our little adventure is finished.  There is no more to
InterPlanet.  Nor shall there be...UNTIL THE NEXT POST!!!!!!


The answers to these and many more questions can be found on SFSTORY!!!!!!
Watch for them!  And Dream....
Date:         Sun, 12 Sep 1993 21:08:00 EDT
From:         ice station sampo (SWEDE at DRYCAS.BITNET)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode fifteen

Episode Fifteen: "Making Time" by Gary W. Olson

     Emma Goldman entered the bridge, followed by her fellow Anarchists, and
friends thereof.  Pizza boxes, flyers, game pieces, food, paper plates,
cards, informational brochures from Planet Barbados, taco bell hot sauce
packets, marbles, cigarettes, empty whiskey bottles, autographed pictures of
John Laroquette, assorted footwear of the non-comfortable variety, flea and
tick remover, some old shares of Hell, Inc, and a tin of Dinty Moore Beef
Stew were strewn about like a tornado had ripped through the bridge.
     "Phew," Emma said.  "For a minute, I was worried that the explosion
might have made a mess of this place."
     "That would have been depressing," Robert Smith agreed.
     "Welcome, Renegade Anarchists," a rich, feminine voice called from the
internal stereo speakers.
     "Cylla, I presume," Jerriphrrt said.
     "I knew it," Bata mumbled.  He quickly maneuvered out of the way of
Shadebeam's reach.  Shadebeam glowered.
     "I am aware that you must have many questions for me," Cylla said.  "I
hope I can answer them on the way."
     "On the way to where?" Benchen asked.
     "To the planet Pincota," Cylla told them.  "Where the Preserves currently
     "The Preserves still live?" Katayin asked, stunned.
     "Yes," Cylla said.  "It is vitally important that we reach them, to tell
them what the OmniDean has in mind, with regards to Spam Lite."
     "I don't know," Slithis said.  "Is it really all that important that we
do?  I mean, our original agreement was to find the OmniDean, and find him we
did.  Of course, we promptly lost him again, but that doesn't mean..."
     "How can you say that?!" James Dean(xiv) exclaimed.  "If the OmniDean
succeeds in conquering Time Central, he'll be able to conquer the galaxy!
No place will be safe!"
     "We could always go back to the Superguy altiverse," Benjen interjected.
     "As a Time Agent, I must do my best to prevent this," Lark Purree, Time
Agent 90210 said.  "However, I cannot ask that any of you share that risk with
me.  Now, there's a resort planet in the nearby Lavasoap System called
Pumiceaction, which is a favorite vacation spot for Time Agents.  If you could
just drop me off there..."
     "Out of the question," Cylla said.  "We are going to Pincota."  The Red
Emma shuddered, and the viewscreens showed distance growing between them and
the Winaprize.
     "Dammit, computer, I *order* you to return manual control of the ship to
us!" Emma snarled.
     "You can't order me," Cylla replied, calmly.  "You're an anarchist."
     "She got you there," Shadebeam said.
     "You walked right into it," Gham added.
     "*Don't* encourage her!" Emma yelled.
     "Well, there they go, Splock," Jimbo Quirk said, from aboard the Starship
Winaprize, as the Red Emma disappeared into overly-hyped space.  "Too bad
they couldn't stay longer."
     "Indeed, Jimbo," Splock said.  "We could have had a party."
     "Anyway, I say it's time we go to Barbados!" Quirk exclaimed.  Sulu and
Chakoff bounced in their chairs, barely able to contain their excitement.
Spot searched his uniform for his hidden scotch bottle.  Yoo Hoo sighed.
"Ahead warp factor ninety!"
     "What course, sir?" Chakoff asked.
     "To Barbados!" Quirk answered.
     "Yes, but what coordinates, sir?"
     "The coordinates"
     The bridge waited in silence for several moments.
     "There were a bunch of deltas in it, I think."
     "I thought they were gammas," Yoo Hoo said.
     "Doesn't Earl figure into this somehow?" Sulu asked.
     "Dammit, Jimbo!" Boner McFly cursed.  "Didn't anyone write the coordinates
they gave us down?!?"
     The bridge was silent for another several moments.
     "Splock, who is in charge of recordkeeping this week?" Jimbo asked.
     "Dr. McFly, of course!" Splock answered.
     "Dammit!" McFly yelled, his face turning bright red.  "There is no
'recordkeeper' position on this ship!  And stop having that damn puppet stick
its tongue out at me!"
     "I think it's finally happened," Quirk said to his hand puppet.
     "What has, my Captain?" Splock responded.
     "His memory has gone," Jimbo said.  "They say it's the second thing to go,
after..."  He whispered the rest into Splock's ear.  Splock giggled.
     "We're entering the Vitupritude system, Kalvin," Alexander Berkman said,
as the grey dullness of overly-hyped space darkened into the black void of
regular space.  To the port side of the ship, Vitupritude II shown brightly,
its brilliant lime green seas and magenta land masses looking very inviting.
     "Excellent, dear boy," Kalvin Certain, intergalactic arch-criminal and
lover of perfume baths said, strolling onto the bridge, resplendent in fine
truffles and foppery.  "Signal our boys and girls to stand by, with our first
     The hijacked Spam Lite barge headed in, getting closer to the star at
the center of the system.
     Time Agent 173 sipped on her radioactive orange tropical drink, and
wondered if she should go back to work within a month or so.  She had been
on vacation nearly a year now, and, after months of relaxation, drinks, more
relaxation, and personal massages from muscular, well-tanned male beings of a
variety of humanoid and non-humanoid races, she was getting a little bored
with it all.
     She had just talked herself into staying another five months, when a
shadow fell across her.  She opened her eyes, and gasped.
     "James Dean!" she exclaimed.  "But you''re..."
     "Alive," James(mxi) said.
     "So am I," James(mmmxi) said.
     "So are we!" five other James Dean synthezoids said.
     "You're coming with us, Miss Marbles," James(xxvi) said.
     "Right now!" James(xlv) added.
     "Am I?" she said, sitting up.  "What makes you say that?"
     "The commands I send from my brain, via my nervous system, to my vocal
chords," James(mxi) said.
     "Unless you want a more philosophical answer," James(xix) said.
     "For instance, I could have been fated to say that," James(xxvi) said.
     "This could all be illusion," James(iv) added.
     "In which case, this is your delusion, and we don't have to answer for
it," James(mmmxi) said, beaming at his own logical prowess.
     It took them several minutes to realize that they were no longer
standing over Time Agent 173.
     "Where'd she go?" James(iv) asked.
     "She disappeared!" James(xix) said.
     "Well, *duh*," James(xxvi) replied.  "Where'd she go?"
     "Maybe we were the ones imagining her," James(mxi) said.
     "No, wait, I see her, over there," James(xlv) said, pointing up the
beach, where they could see Time Agent 173 running.
     "Oh, yes," James(xlv) said.  "After her!"
     "We're entering the Vitupritude system, sir," a tech reported.
     "Do you have a fix on the barge yet?" Bob, aka James Dean (xxiii),
     "Affirmative," the tech responded.  "They're heading towards the sun."
     "Strange," Bob said.  "Be careful.  Kalvin Certain is a trickster."
     Behind Bob, Megabot floated, showing off its fresh coat of fire engine
red paint to anyone who cared to look.
     The armada moved closer, pursuing the barge.
     "Hull temperature is rising," the tech reported.
     "Radiation shields at 90%," a tech reported.
     "Damn!" Bob exclaimed.  "How can they dive towards the sun like that?"
     "Hull temperature approaching maximum!"
     "Sir!  We have to turn back!"
     "Radiation shields overloading!" another tech shouted.
     "Reverse course!" Bob ordered.  The armada slowed, stopped, then
reversed course, moving away from the sun.  They watched, as the barge drifted
closer, and closer to the sun, until it finally disappeared.
     "Well," a tech said, "that could have gone better."
     "No," Bob said.  "We've not seen the last of Kalvin Certain."
     Megabot turned to look at Bob questioningly.
     "Kalvin's pulled this trick before," Bob said.  "When he dived into the
sun following his escape from his trial, decades before.  Tactician...please
scan the planet below."
     "Scanning," the tactician said.  "The planet is composed of...paper
     "He tricked us!" Bob growled.  "Damn it!  Head towards that star!"
     "But sir..."
     "Just do it!" Bob ordered.
     "Yes, sir."
     The armada re-reversed course, and plunged towards the star again.
     "Ow!" Lark Purree exclaimed.  "Ow!  Ow!"
     "Oh, just hold still," Benjen said.  He hefted the hammer again, and
brought it down on the spike, attempting to hammer it into Lark's hair.
The hair refused to even chip.  "This stuff is tough!"
     "I could just wear a hood for the rest of my life," Lark mused.
     Gham, who had borrowed some jeans from Lt. Yoo Hoo before leaving the
ship, discarding her gel-encrusted miniskirt, giggled, and snuggled up to
Jerriphrrt, who lounged on the couch and was feeding her grapes.  Robert
Smith, on the other end of the couch, burrowed under the cushions and laid
     "There is only one way to solve this dilemma," Bata said, decisively.
He paused, flinching.
     "Well, tell us," Shadebeam said.  "Make yerself useful for a change."
She sat down on the couch.
     "Oof!" Robert Smith said, in a depressed sort of way.
     "I believe you have an AI of your own," Bata said to Time Agent 90210.
     "Of course!" Lark said, sitting up abruptly.  Benjen swung the hammer
down, missed the spike, and hit his (Benjen's) thumb.  As Benjen's blood-
curdling scream of pain echoed through the bridge, Lark got his pocket
calculator out of his jacket, and punched some digits.
     "What's the word?" Emma asked.
     "Thunderbird!" Jerriphrrt, Slithis, and Benjen chorused.  Emma
glared at them.
     "She'll do it," Lark asked, looking at the flashing readout.  "Now,
can you get manual upload access?"
     "Let me check," Slithis said, moving to the helm computer.  "Main
ports...frozen.  Auxilliary power.  Auxilliary auxilliary
ports...filled with peanut butter."  He paused.
     "Hey!" Shadebeam said.  "I'm a messy eater!  So what?"
     "Wait!  I've got an idea!" Benjen said.  "Tarrfel!  Hand me that
pixie dust straw, and that microcable!"  Tarrfel looked up from
cataloging the paintings she had stolen from Kookamonga IX, found the
requested items, and handed them to Benjen.  He worked feverishly,
threading the cable into the straw, in a tight coil.  When he finished,
he jammed the straw into one of the peanut butter-clogged access ports.
"Okay, try it now."
     Lark hooked the free end of the cable up to the calculator, and
pressed the 'clear' button.  A blue glow arced through the wire, into the
pixie straw, through the access port.
     "You shouldn't have done that," Cylla said.
     "Oh, quiet, Kelly," BRENDA growled.  "I'm taking over!"
     "My names not Kelly!" Cylla replied, angrily.  "And watch your
shoving!"  The ship lurched, throwing the Anarchists who weren't already
parked onto the ground, or onto the ones who were already parked.
     "Oof!" Shadebeam oofed.  "Get off!"
     "I'm trying!" Slithis yelled.
     "There is a depressing amount of weight on me," Robert Smith noted
calmly.  The ship lurched again.
     "I don't think this was such a good idea," Gham said.

Date:         Sun, 19 Sep 1993 20:51:00 EDT
From:         ice station sampo (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode sixteen

Episode Sixteen: "Preserving Things" by Gary W. Olson

     "Approaching the star," the tech reported.  "Radiation shields near
     "Keep going," Bob ordered.
     The ships plunged towards the star in the center of the Vitupritude
System, ignoring the warnings from their instruments that the hulls of
their ships were overheating, that their radiation shields were overloading,
that they were paying too much for their mufflers.  Time passed, and
they began passing the star.
     What they saw on the other side startled them.
     "Aiiiiieeee!" Slithis yelled, as his body hurtled through the air,
colliding with Tarrfel t'Krod'kzik, sending her paintings flying through
the air.  The Red Emma rocked again, as two sentient AI's battled for
     "You blonde bimbo!" BRENDA's voice yelled from the speakers.
     "Tramp!" Cylla accused, as the lights began flickering, and the food
replicators began creating large quantities of ravioli.
     "BRENDA!" Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210, yelled.  "Calm this ship
dowwwwwwww...!"  The ship lurched, sending him into the couch, landing in
Gham's lap.  Jerriphrrt, in whose lap Gham was at the moment, hissed at
him.  Lark shrugged.  Gham giggled.
     "Asynchronous trinometric bicalibrated circuit fondler!"
     "Drooling Bill Gates fangirl!"
     The ship lurched again, and Shadebeam was catapulted into Bata,
completely accidently, mind you, even though she did have the presence of
mind to land heels first.
     "Enough of this, both of you!" Emma yelled.
     "What were we doing?" Bata and Shadebeam asked.
     "Not you!  Cylla and BRENDA!"
     "Yes?" Cylla and BRENDA asked.
     "We'll go to planet Pincota," Emma said.  "Just stop the ship from
     "Okay," Cylla said.  The hyperspatial flight immediately smoothed out,
like a hyperspatial flight should.
     "And now, apologize to each other," Katayin said.
     "No buts!" Katayin said.  "Do it!"
     "Um...I'm sorry, BRENDA," Cylla's voice said.
     "Like you mean it," Benjen added.
     "I *am* sorry!" Cylla insisted.  "It's just that this is very important!"
     "I'm sorry too, Kelly," BRENDA said.
     "My name is not Kelly, dammit!" Cylla yelled.  The ship shook.
     "On second thought, maybe we'd better just strap in," James(xiv) said.
     Robert Smith said something about it, but no one could hear him, as he
had a couch pillow jammed into his face.
     Time Agent 173 ran, dashing through the popular planet Pumiceaction
resort, dodging young, pony-tailed waiters, leaping over deep-blue tanned
Baraskhim from Barashk B, obsequious grinners from Dental Care IV, water
polo robots, and assorted pleasure bots, as she fled the James Dean
synthezoids who were chasing her.
     She dashed into a Tastee Freeze trailer that seemed empty (except for
large quantities of Tastee Freeze.  She huddled in one of the cupboards and
     "Where'd she go?" James Dean(xlv) asked, outside.
     "Hard to tell," James(mxi) said.  "She could be anywhere."
     "She couldn't be on another planet," James(xxvi) said.
     "She could to!" James(mmmxi) insisted.  "A fold in the fabric of space
and time could have spontaneously occured, sending her millions of light
years away!"
     "Oh, I'll give you five space-folds, you..." James(iv) said.
     "Stop it!" James(mxi) said.  "(iv).  Take the ship back up to the
OmniDean's ship, and get some reinforcements.  We'll find the Time Agent,
or another one.  There's several on the planet, I think."
     Time Agent 173 listened, as the voices drifted off.  She was about to
emerge from the cupboard, when someone entered the Tastee Freeze.
     "Five folds..." he was grumbling.  "Boy, I'd like to five-fold him..."
She heard several switches being flipped, and felt the Tastee Freeze
shudder, as metal shifted and concealed thrusters fired.
     The vacationers below were only moderately surprised to see the Tastee
Freeze blast off into the wide blue sky.  This is because most of them were
tanked to the gills.
     "" a tech said.
     "It's just a big spotlight!" another tech said.
     "As I suspected," Bob said.  "Check the instruments.  You'll likely find
that our radiation shields are at full strength, our hull temperature is
normal, and that we did not pay a lot for our muffler!"
     "They must have overridden our external sensors," still another tech said.
"I can shift to multi-phase duo-tronic resonation in the shields to counter."
     "What?" Bob asked.
     "I can make it go away," the tech said, slowly.
     "Ah, good!" Bob said.  "And while you're at it, scan for our Spam Lite
     "I've got it!" a tech said.  "It's entering overly-hyped space...entry
path indicates it's heading for the Hahaoutsmartedyou System!"
     "Follow that ship!" Bob ordered.  He watched, as the techs turned to
implement the order.  "Thought you'd outsmarted me, did you, Kalvin?  We'll
see about that."  Behind him, Megabot hummed a happy tune.
     Boku's tears had mostly dried, and he rested on his cot, staring up at
the ceiling.  His world had been destroyed, his ex-wife, Xiphria, had turned
out to be a collaborator with the OmniDean, who was planning to conquer the
galaxy with the power of Spam Lite, which he had been manufacturing under
the surface of his planet, in the hidden preserve of the Preserves.
     He had vowed to extract revenge for the death of his planet, but had
no idea where to begin.  He could not open the solid bars of his cell, nor
did there seem to be any other prisoners about with whom to conspire.  All
in all, it had been a hell of a day.
     "Who's there?" Boku asked, looking up from his cot.
     "Over here," the voice said.
     Boku got off the cot, and walked, cautiously, over to the robed figure
who was beckoning him near.  Boku noted the figure was wearing turquoise
blue glasses, and had shocking red hair, covered partially by a hood.
     "You want revenge, for the destruction of your world, no?" the figure
     "Yes..." Boku said.  "But who..."
     "Who I am is not important," the figure said.  "I am here to give you
the means of your revenge."  The figure produced a black box from his robes,
and pressed it into Boku's hands.
     "What is it?" Boku asked.  "A bomb?"
     "Much more powerful than a mere bomb," the figure replied.
     "But how do I use it?" Boku asked.
     "You don't," the figure said.  "You give it to the person who can use
it.  The person whose genetic code is imprinted on the surface receptors
of the box.  My agents have forseen that you will eventually encounter this
person.  When you do, give her this."
     "What does this female look like?" Boku asked.
     "About 5'5", human, mongoloid skin coloration, short, spiky blonde hair,
and a gold nose-to-ear chain."
     "I believe I have met her," Boku said.  "She was with a group that
called'Renegade Anarchists,' I believe."
     "Yes," the figure said, starting to move off.
     "And what do you gain from this?" Boku asked.  The figure paused.
"Certainly, you are not doing this for nothing..."
     "No," the figure said.  "I am not.  Let us just say, your revenge will
further my aims."
     "Okay," Boku said.
     "Your revenge will further my aims," Boku and the figure said together.
     The figure left, disappearing down the corridor.  Boku looked after
the figure, his mind lingering on the figure's shocking red hair and
turquoise blue glasses.  He looked at the black box.
     "An exploding cow," Boku said.  "Strange."
     "We are emerging from overly-hyped space," Cylla said.
     "Entering orbit around planet Pincota," BRENDA added.
     "You can get off our laps now," Jerriphrrt hissed to Lark.  Lark made
a face at Jerriphrrt before standing up.  Gham, who had been squished between
them, rolled off onto the floor.
     "Well, we're here, at last," Benchen said.
     "We might as well see what these 'Preserves' have in mind," Slithis said.
     "Receiving a hail from the planet," Cylla said.
     "On screen," Emma told the computer.
     The screen lit up, showing a jar of raspberry preserve, with legs, arms,
and a head sticking out of appropriate parts of the jar.  The head had shiny
red hair, red eyebrows, and a red mustache and beard.
     "Greetings," he said.  "I am Raspberry Preserve, leader of the Preserves."
He paused a moment.  "What are you all laughing at?"
     Shadebeam removed the couch cushion from Robert Smith's face so he could
see the screen.
     "Fruit jams and jellies depress me," Robert stated, flatly.  Shadebeam
replaced the cushion and sat on him.  "Oof!" Robert oofed, in a depressed
     "Your AI, Cylla, she is all right?" Raspberry Preserve asked.
     "No I'm not!" Cylla said.  "I'm stuck in here with a homicidal maniac!"
     "Hey!" BRENDA replied.  "You're the one who blew up the planet!"
     "We have a lot of questions we'd like to ask you," Lark said, stepping
forward.  Now, Raspberry Preserve started to giggle uncontrollably.  Lark
turned a deep shade of red, and put an open pizza box over his head, to
hide the sexy lingerie that was fused to his hair.
     "Please, land, and accept our hospitality," Raspberry Preserve said.
     "We don't have much time..." Lark began.
     "They still have not recovered the Spam Lite barge that Kalvin Certain
stole," Raspberry said.  "In the meantime, our own forces are preparing to
go into battle."
     "We don't know how to say this, but..." Emma started.
     "We have copious amounts of strawberry wine," Raspberry added.
     "...we accept," Emma finished.  She shut off the viewscreen.
     "Looks like we're getting involved after all, then, eh?" Tarrfel asked.
     "I knew it," Bata said.  Everyone was too tired to hit him.

Date:         Wed, 29 Sep 1993 01:26:00 EDT
From:         i could be back in the salad again (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode seventeen

Episode Seventeen: "To Catch a Spam Thief" by Gary W. Olson

     "Hold still," Jerriphrrt hissed.
     "I *am* holding still," Lark Purree responded, as Jerriphrrt started
up the chain saw.  "I'd just prefer to hold still somewhere else, such as,
for example, a different continent than you and your chain saw."  Lark
struggled, but Slithis, Benjen and James Dean(xiv) held him still.  From
a nearby table, Lark's sideburns watched and gleeped.
     "Thanks a lot, guys," Lark snarled at his sideburns, as Jerriphrrt
brought the roaring chain saw down on the top of his head.  There followed
a sizeable explosion, as the chain saw ground futilely against Time Agent
90210's hair, until it gave up.
     "Ow," Lark commented, as he waited for the smoke to clear.
     "I don't believe it," Tarrfel t'Krodkzik said, looking at Lark's hair.
"It didn't even scratch it."  Lark turned to the mirror, to see his hair,
and the feminine undergarment that had been permanently fused to it by a
strange chemical reaction involving the styling gel and the hair care products
that Lark had previously used before coming into contact with the gel.  It had
proven resistant to chisels and, just now, chainsaws.  Lark wondered what
the next step was, and shuddered.
     His sideburns gleeped and gimbaled towards him.  Lark picked them up and
looked at them reproachfully.  They made apologetic keening sounds, and he
petted them before reattaching them to the cyberports just in front of his
     "Well, it's been quite a while since I've slept that soundly," Emma
Goldman said, as she walked into the conference chamber of the Preserves,
which is where most of the rest of the anarchists and friends thereof were
currently at, after getting a nights rest.
     Actually, to call it a 'chamber' would be somewhat misleading.  It struck
Emma, and the others, more like a garden, open to the blazing pink suns that
shown to the east, with toast, crackers, knives, and jelly preserve samples
placed strategically around the room.
     "Where's Jerriphrrt and Gham?" Emma asked, noting the only two in their
party not present.
     "They'll walk in the door in two seconds," Bata said.  Two seconds later,
Jerriphrrt and Gham walked in, hand in hand.
     "Hi, guys," Shadebeam said, between bites of toast with grape preserve.
"Sleep well?"
     "We were supposed to sleep?" Gham asked, turning to Jerriphrrt.
     "Um, yes, we did," Jerriphrrt said, answering Shadebeam's question,
thankful that his fur obscured most of his reddening.
     "So, now that we're all here," Katayin said.  "When do our hosts show up?"
     "In five seconds," Bata answered.
     "It was a rhetorical ques--"
     "Greetings, friends!" Raspberry Preserve said, strolling in.  Behind him,
men and women wearing jars filled with assorted flavors of preserves followed.
"I am Raspberry Preserve - I talked with you on the comm yesterday.  With me
are my compatriots: Blueberry Preserve..."  She nodded, solemnly.  "Strawberry
Preserve..."  He nodded.  "Apple Cinammon Preserve..."  He smiled.  "Tofu
Preserve...Wild Eichenberry Preserve...Cherry Preserve...Cherry 2000
Preserve...Blackberry Preserve...Grape Preserve...Butterscotch Preserve...and
Watermelon Preserve."  The various preserves waved, their jellies jiggling
as they did so.
     Robert Smith, eating his toast without fruit preserve adornment, sighed
in a depressed manner.
     "Did you all sleep well?" Blueberry Preserve asked.
     "Well...most of us did," Emma said.  "And we thank you for your
hospitality.  Now, what say we talk turkey."
     "Sorry, we're vegetarians," Grape Preserve stated.
     "No, what she means is," Tarrfel said.  "What's going on?  Why are the
Preserves, whom everybody thought to be the long extinct protectors and seeders
ofthe galaxy, suddenly coming out of hiding?  Why should we help you stop the
OmniDean?  What does it all mean?"
     "Is it time for the teaser questions already?" Jerriphrrt asked, yawning.
"I thought the episode had just started."  Gham elbowed him.  Lark glared.
     "My friends, allow me to tell you our story..." Raspberry Preserve
     Mapa Marbles, Time Agent 173, peeked out of the Tastee Freeze.  Gone was
the glamourous planetside beach resort scenery.  Gone were the weight lifters,
the barely-clad male, female, androgynous, and other-gendered beings, and the
staggering amount of libations they had been consuming.  In their place was
a stark, steel-laden docking bay, filled with ferocious looking fighter
craft, troop transports, and a Coney Island.
     She looked about the Tastee Freeze for the controls to the vessel.  After
finding them, she stopped, as she was about to start the vessel up.  They had
gone to a lot of trouble to try to capture her, out in the open.  She had
only made it up here, to what she assumed to be the ship of the 'OmniDean' that
the James Deans had referred to, by hiding in their ship, though she did not
know at the time that it was really a starship disguised as a Tastee Freeze.
     It might be worth her while, she thought, to see if she could discover
just why they wanted her so badly.
     Alexander Berkman frowned at the readouts.  They had just entered the
Hahaoutsmartedyou System from overly-hyped space, after having fooled Bob's
portion of the OmniDean's armada in the Vitupritude System into retreating.
By all rights, they should have been home free.
     "Victory is mine again!" Kalvin Certain chorused.  "Isn't it glorious?
Isn't it grand?"
     "Um...Kalvin..." Alexander said, as he saw some lights flash on the
panel in front of him.
     "Not now, dear boy," the foppishly attired Kalvin said, as he sipped
a mint juliep.  "Today is the day we savor the sweet taste of victory.  Once
again, we have rightfully stolen what is not ours, so that we might make
huge profits by reselling our cargo.  Today, Spam Lite...tomorrow the
     "Um...Kalvin...I'm picking up a huge armada coming out of overly-hyped
space..." Alexander said.
     "We'll retire in a year or two," Kalvin said.  "We'll each have whole
quadrants of the galaxy as our personal estates.  I personally plan to have
the Nagala Quadrant remade as a stunning tribute to Zsa Zsa Gabdid you say
large armada?"
     "Bob's ships!" Alexander said, frantically lunging for the shield
controls.  "They've tracked us!"
     "Impossible!" Kalvin exclaimed.
     Before the shields could be raised, there was a hum and a bright light.
Megabot and three masters of unarmed death-dealing stood before Kalvin and
Alexander.  Megabot wielded it's weapons gleefully, with a malevolent gleam
in it's single red eye.
     "As you no doubt realize, I am not the first Raspberry Preserve to wear
the jar," Raspberry Preserve said.  "My father was Raspberry Preserve before
me, as was his father, as was his mother, as was her brother's stepfather,
as was his aunt's second cousin's former roommate, and so on, and so on,
into the deep recesses of history.  It was these first generation of
Preserves who were responsible for the seeding of the galaxy.
     "Life had evolved on this planet far in advance of all others.  It
had developed travel...and a keen appreciation for
fruit-based jams and jellies.  They sought to share these things with others,
but found that life on other planets was scarce, and stood little chance of
     "So began the Project.  Over the course of millenia, they spread the
life forms they had encountered over millions of worlds, imprinting upon them
the skills they needed to survive, to thrive, and to grow.  They also tried
to imprint a love of fruit-based jams and jellies, but that didn't always
take so well.  The Sleenaks of Rigias Beta hate jams all together.  The
Jamjamjams commited collective suicide as a race after an erroneous galactic
newsfeed report about the Smuckers corporation going belly up.  But for the
most part, it turned out okay, anyway.
     "Once our work was done, we turned our attention to monitoring our
work.  We left hidden bases and monitoring stations under the surfaces of
many worlds, including Kookamonga IX, which was one of our original beta
test sites.  We constructed AIs, such as Cylla, to monitor events on the
surface, and provide for the defense of those on the surface, as needed.
That done, we proceeded to wait.
     "Slowly, the galaxy began growing, as more and more races acquired
space travel.  Soon, the galaxy was packed, and we went out to meet our
progeny, to guide them to true enlightenment.
     "Twenty minutes later we returned, after having learned that our
progeny would just as soon sell us as talk with us.  We could plainly see
that things had not gone quite as planned.  So, we remained in hiding,
knowing that one day, our children would welcome us, gladly.  Now, thanks
to you, that day may finally come.  But only if we can stop the OmniDean.
     "He seeks nothing less than complete galactic domination, with him
doing the dominating.  With Spam Lite, he will be able to tap into
bizarre and strange consequences of having such an item.  The television
spots, the glamour, the's all part of his mad lust for power.
We need your help, to make this plan a success."
     Raspberry Preserve waited, smiling.  Several moments passed.
Jerriphrrt's snores began rising to fill the room, while the other
Anarchists and friends looked on listlessly.  'Good,' thought Raspberry.
'I made an impression.'
     "So, what, exactly, is our role in this little plan of yours?"
Slithis said.  "Not that we have any intention of accepting, but just out
of curiousity."
     "The OmniDean's plan was to forcibly enlist a Time Agent, namely you,
Mr. Purree, to guide his ship past Time Central's defenses, where Tane
Tessier would proceed to put on a concert, thus distracting everyone so that
the defenses could be sabotaged, so that the armada could swoop in and take
over," Raspberry explained.  "They lost you, but they have been in pursuit of
another Time Agent, designation 173, if I recall..."
     "Mapa," Emma said.  "We know her."
     "We need similar assistance, in securing a path for our forces to Time
Central, to counter the forces of the OmniDean in time," Raspberry said.
     "Then I'm your man," Lark said.  His sideburns gleeped.  "And they're
your sideburns."
     "Unfortunately, it is not that simple," Grape Preserve spoke up.
"After the destruction of Kookamonga IX, Xiphria, the ex-Prelator of that
world, forged evidence that you had died with that world.  By now, all your
Time Agent priveledges must have been revoked."
     "So your other option is..." James(xiv) said.
     " break in to Time Central," Grape finished.
     "And there is only one person, alive or dead, in all the galaxy, with
the skills to bring that off," Raspberry said.  "Tarrfel t'Krodkzik."
     "Well, I'm glad you're bright enough lads to realize that," Tarrfel said.
"But suppose I'm not interested."
     "Then we were wrong about you," Blueberry said.  "We would have to
hire the second best thief, and give him a chance to take over the top spot.
You must admit, with a prize like that, anyone who wins it ought to be
called 'the galaxy's best thief.'"
     "All right," Tarrfel said.  "I'll do it."
     "I'll go too," Shadebeam said.  "Between the three of us, we should have
those computers twisted up nice."
     "Hell if I'm going to miss out on this," Slithis said.  "Count me in."
     "Me too," chorused Benjen, Benchen, Katayin, Bata, and James(xiv).
     "I'll be equally depressed either way," Robert Smith reasoned.  "So
I'll go."
     "I suppose I'd better go along, just to keep things from screwing up,"
Emma said.
     "I'll go too," Gham said.  She nudged Jerriphrrt, who was still snoring.
"Jerri, wake up!  Jerri!"
     "It's my turn to wear the cheerleaders uniform!" Jerriphrrt exclaimed.
sitting up.  "I..."  He paused, realizing everyone was staring at him.
     "Just say 'I'll go too,'" Gham whispered.
     "Um...I'll go too," Jerriphrrt said.
     "Excellent," Raspberry said.  "Now, let us map out our strategy..."
     "Raspberry Preserve, o most singular excellence of Preserves," a lowly
mint jelly messenger said, running up to Raspberry Preserve.  "We have just
received word.  Bob has captured Kalvin Certain and the Spam Lite barge in
the Hahaoutsmartedyou System.
     "Blast," Raspberry said.  "No time for planning, then.  We'll have to do
this on the fly.  Everybody, move out!"
     "What did I just agree to?" Jerriphrrt asked, confused.
     "I'll tell you later," Gham said.  Jerriphrrt nodded and went back to

Date:         Sat, 9 Oct 1993 14:34:00 EDT
From:         i could be back in the salad again (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode eighteen

Episode Eighteen: "On the Move" by Gary W. Olson

     "Now, look, just trust me," Jerriphrrt said.
     "After what you tried last episode?" Lark asked, backing away.
     "Do you want that undergarment off your head or not?" Slithis asked.
     "Well...okay," Lark said.  "Just watch the glaring continuity errors
this time, okay?"
     "What's he talking about?" Jerriphrrt asked Benjen.
     "He's talking about how you used the chainsaw on his hair in the beginning
of last episode, then walked in the door a few moments later with Gham," Benjen
     "Oh," Jerriphrrt commented.  Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210, removed his
sideburns, and closed his eyes.  His sideburns blipped in alarm.
     Jerriphrrt fired his Hi-Intensity Maximum Pain Phaser Laser Type Gun Thing
at Lark's hair.  The beam struck dead center, and ricocheted off, blowing away
Robert Smith's cheese danish.  Robert sighed and went off to find a clutter to
slide under and be depressed in.
     "Not a scratch," Katayin said, inspecting Lark's hair.  Lark grumbled and
pulled the hood back over his head.
     "Everybody strapped in?" Emma Goldman asked.  "I think Cylla and BRENDA
are cooperating enough to get us going in the right direction."
     "You think?" Tarrfel asked.
     "Well, they've stopped using the cleaning bots to fight wars on the
bridge, so that seems to be a step in the right direction," Emma replied.
The Anarchists were stunned.
     "We have cleaning bots?" Shadebeam asked, stunned.
     "You don't suppose we could use them to, well, you know," Slithis said,
"I mean, actually clean this place, do you?"
     "I knew we had them all along," Bata said, smugly.  Shadebeam kicked him
in the shins.
     "We're about to go into overly-hyped space," James(xiv) reported from
the bridge, which was about five feet from the lounge.  The Anarchists and
friends thereof rushed to get strapped in.  Jerriphrrt and Gham shared a
strap, as did Slithis and Shadebeam, and as did Benchen and Katayin.  Benjen
tried to share Katayin's strap, but got strapped by her instead to the wall.
Emma, Lark, Bata, Tarrfel, and James(xiv) strapped themselves in seperately.
Robert, under a pile of pizza boxes, was counted as being strapped.
     The Red Emma entered overly-hyped space with not even the slightest
shudder or bump.
     "Um, why exactly did we have to strap ourselves down?" Tarrfel asked.
     They, except for Bata, unstrapped themselves, and stood up.  The ship
lurched, and bounced them up and down around the cabin like ping pong balls.
     "That's why," Lark groaned, extracting himself from Emma and Tarrfel.
     "Mmmmph!" Benjen exclaimed, from Katayin's lap.
     "I knew that would happen," Bata said, from where he was strapped in.
     Mapa Marbles, Time Agent 173, stole along the darkened corridor, avoiding
patrols of James Deans wearing black armor and carrying non-civic-minded
weaponry.  She tried to determine where on the ship she was.  If the bridge
was near the front of the ship, and the ship bay was near the lower midsection,
then she was...
     "In the detention block," a voice replied.
     Mapa whirled, and saw an aged man with a thick white mustache looking back
at her, from behind a set of iron bars.  Iron bars, on a ship like this, she
thought.  Very strange.
     "Excuse my poor manners, miss," he said.  "My name is Boku.  I am...or I
should say, was, the Assistant Prelator Supreme of Kookamonga IX, before the
machinations of the OmniDean caused that world to be destroyed."
     "I'm Time Agent 173," Mapa replied.  "Do you know what's going on?"
     For the next hour, Boku told her about the events of the previous
seventeen episodes of Renegade Anarchists II, which was pretty amazing, when
you think about it, since he was only introduced in episode eleven.
     "Then we'd better be getting to the bridge," Mapa said.  "That's the only
way we'll be able to get a message out to Time Central, to warn them."
     "Please, get me out of this cell," Boku asked.
     "I already did," Mapa said.  "While you were telling me what was going on,
I got out my molecular file and sawed the bars open."  Boku looked, and saw she
had done just that.  With her help, he got through the bars, bringing a dark
box with him.
     "What's in the box?" Mapa asked.
     "I don't know," Boku said.  "I was told to give it to somebody."
     Mapa nodded, and led Boku into the darkness.
     "Well, this is just rotten," Kalvin Certain sighed, from where he was tied
up on the bridge of the Spam Lite barge he and Alexander Berkman had recently
stolen.   "Just bloody rotten.  The Queen shall hear of this, I assure you!"
     "Oh, please shut up," Bob/James(xxiii) growled at him.  "You're just upset
because you lost."
     "No, I'm not."
     "Yes you are!"
     "I'm not!"
     "You are!"
     "Well, then, why *are* you upset?"
     "It's these ropes," Kalvin said.  "They're creasing my Armani polo suit.
It's an utterly criminal transgression against fashion that you are
perpetuating upon my person, and I shall not stand for it!"  Beside him, also
tied up, Alexander sighed, and continued working on the knot that held his
wrists secure.
     Bob rolled his eyes.  "Well, in any case, you'll be happy to know that
we've just received word from the OmniDean: we're to proceed to Time Central
at once!"
     "Hoo," Alexandar said.
     "Ray," Kalvin added.
     "However, due to your meddling, it will take us a while longer to get
there than we had planned," Bob said.  "If our plan fails due to you two, do
you know what we would do...?"
     "Um...hop up and down?" Alexander asked.
     "Turn really really red?" Kalvin inquired.
     "I know!" Alexander exclaimed.  "You'd kick something!"
     "You'd become Republicans!" Kalvin yelled.
     "No!" Bob replied.  "We'd kill you!"
     There was silence on the bridge.
     "I was going to say that next," Alexander said.
     "No you weren't," Kalvin replied.  "I was!"
     "No you weren't!"
     "Yes I was!"
     Bob sighed, and gave the techs the signal to start up the engines.
Megabot, hovering nearby, admired itself in a mirror.
     On the PLS Tolling Bell, Ernest Hemingway was decidedly non-plussed.
     "*How* can we have completely *lost* Time Agent 357's ship?" he roared.
His second-in-command, Bram Stoker, cowered before the manly author-turned-
captain-in-the-fleet-of-Hell, who was glaring at him.
     "Golly, sir," one of the Dan Quayles on either side of Stoker said.
"It's been so long since we last had a scene.  He must be a long way away
from here by now!"
     "Blast," Hemingway replied.  "I wonder if Dr. Bing Von Spleen is done
with his orientation yet.  He'll give me answers, or..."
     "Er, excuse me," a voice said.  "Are you Ernest Hemingway?"
     Hemingway whirled, to behold a rather tall fellow, with shocking red
hair and turquoise blue sunglasses.  He tried reaching for his elephant gun,
but found it strangely not present.
     "There's no need for that," the fellow said.  "I'm here to tell you that
Time Agent 357 has hidden his ship inside a cathedral sized hunk of rock and
is currently using that as a cover as he makes a run for Time Central."
     "Is he now...?" Hemingway asked, smiling slowly.  "And who might you be?"
     "My card," the fellow said.  He handed Hemingway a card, that read:

                 |      the Reverend Ranmanic Swede,      |
                 |       Keeper of the Sacred Chao        |
                 |        Ladler of the Sheep Dip,        |
                 |              leader of                 |
                 |  the Dis/Order of the Exploding Chao   |
                 |            available for               |
                 |              weddings                  |
                 |            bar mitzvahs                |
                 |            sacred orgies               |
                 |        nude bingo tournaments          |
                 |         and so on and so on            |

     Hemingway looked up.  The good reverend had vanished.
     "Funny," Hemingway mused.  "He looked like an Author in a cheap disguise."
     "Is everything set?" Raspberry Preserve asked, sitting in the Captain's
chair.  This was a considerably difficult proposition, as the glass bottom of
the preserve jar he was wearing made any sort of seated position a tricky
thing, despite the thick jelly preserves inside the jar that cushioned
everything, and, actually, made a better armor than most steel plating, when
you think about it, not that I can think of any reason why you would.
     "I've gotten reports from all ships," Cherry Preserve responded.  "Ten
thousand Preserve Battleships have left the surface of planet Pincota, and have
taken up formation behind us."
     "Um, sir..." Blueberry Preserve started.
     "Not now," Raspberry Preserve said.
     "But it's important!" Blueberry insisted.
     "How important could it be?" Raspberry asked.
     On the main viewscreen in front of them, planet Pincota exploded.
     "I left the iron on," Blueberry explained, weakly.
     "This is coming out of your salary, you know," Raspberry said, sternly.
Blueberry looked downcast.  "But never mind that now!  We have a mission! Time Central!"
     Time Agent 173 and Boku peered around a computer bank, looking onto the
bridge of the OmniDean's ship.  They saw the OmniDean, standing an impressive
nine feet tall and looming in an impressive rebel without a cause sort of way.
Beside him, Boku identified Xiphria, his ex-wife and former Prelator Supreme
of Kookamonga IX, who was conspiring with the OmniDean.  Tied up in a nearby
chair was Tane Tessier, who had, in the time that Connifer Green was absent
from galactic life, become a hugely successful galactic sex symbol and concert
singer.  Various James Dean synthezoids ran about, carrying out the OmniDean's
     "This is intolerable," the OmniDean rumbled.  "Bob has already captured
the Spam Lite barge, and is ready to follow in our wake to Time Central.
Bilge has begun preparing Time Central for Ms. Tessier's concert.  All we
need is one lousy Time Agent to 'escort' us in!  How difficult can it be?"
     "All our agents have reported in," Xiphria stated.  "She's not on the
planet any longer, it seems."
     "I cannot wait any longer," OmniDean said.  "Prime the KrustBuster
Ray.  We will destroy this planet completely unless Time Agent 173 surrenders."
     "I can't let them do that," Mapa hissed to Boku.  "Hide someplace."
Before Boku could say anything, she pushed him farther into the darkness,
and walked out from behind the computer bank.
     "Okay, I surrender," she said, simply.
     The OmniDean blinked, very surprised.
     "Your reputation as a top-skilled agent appears well-deserved," the
OmniDean said smugly, as James(xlv) and James(xxvi) quickly disarmed her
and tied her up, setting her down next to Tane Tessier.  He turned to James(i),
whose finger was over the fire button.  "Blow it up anyway," the OmniDean
     James(i) smiled, and pressed the button.  Seconds later, planet
Pumiceaction (in the Lavasoap System) exploded cataclysmic-like.
     "And now..." the OmniDean said, darkly.  "On to Time Central."

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