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Sfstory Log 081

Date:         Wed, 17 Apr 1996 23:47:57 -0400
From:         hey jupiter (swede at SOJOURN1.SOJOURN.COM)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists IV, episode twenty two

                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS IV:
                                    IN DRAG
                             (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                                  Episode 22
                                 Gary W. Olson


     Everyone from the last episode started getting into position for the
huge, climactic fight scene.  Weapons were raised.  Fists were clenched.
Teeth were gnashed.  Eyes were wide.  Buttocks were pert.  Stocks were
splitting.  Weebles were wobbling.
     "Um, excuse me," Gham said.
     "What?" everyone else asked.
     "Why are we having this fight scene, anyway?" she asked.  "I mean, was
there a bit of exposition that explained all this?  Who is on what side?
Why are we fighting?"
     "It was all explained at the meeting," James Dean noted.
     "What meeting?"
     "The one you weren't at."
     "What it's all about is simple, my dear," Captain J. Michael Spaulding
told her.  "We're going to war!"
     "To war!" the crowd yelled.
     "To war!" Spaulding responded, as the music started up.

CROWD: To war!
SPAULDING: A shadow war!
SHADOW PUPPETS: A shadow war!
RONALD: It's a commotion!
NORMAN: Arm the photons!
SPAULDING: It's a shadow war!

     The demon soldiers slung their Hell(tm)fire rifles over their
shoulders and pulled out assorted musical instruments, as did the Shadow
Puppets, the assorted bystanders, innocent, guilty and insane.  Spaulding
started up the steps that led to where Bagelos was tied up under a 16-ton

SPAULDING: Fredonia 5 is going to war!
           To fight against the Shadoes!
CROWD: Fredonia 5 is going to war!
       Be sure to bring along some nachos!
SPAULDING: Darkness against the light!
           Don't forget to hang a right!
CROWD: Darkness against the light!
       It ain't a pretty sight!

     Spaulding did a tap dance around Bagelos's struggling form, while the
combatants started an elaborately choreographed series of moves that I
couldn't even begin to describe here, CDA or no CDA.

SPAULDING: Fredonia 5 is going to war!
           What do you think of that?
BAGELOS: Fredonia 5 is going to war!
         I, Bagelos, am against that!
SPAULDING: Fredonia 5 is going to war!
           You'll change your mind I bet!
BAGELOS: Fredonia 5 is going to war!
         I, Bagelos, think 'em I wet!

DEMONS: To war!  To war!  To Hell(tm) with war!
SHADOW PUPPETS: To war!  To war!  To the shadows with war!
ANARCHISTS: To war!  To war!  We'll be over here if you need us!
TIME AGENTS: To war!  To war!  We've got you surrounded, don't make a fuss!

SPAULDING: In case you haven't heard before
           We're about to have a Shadoe War!

CHICOBALDI & JERRIPHRRT: We're going to war!
GREEZ & ZARK: We're going to war!

     Spaulding leapt from Bagelos's platform onto the Bruins that had just
streamed into the combat/singing zone.  They paraded around the Mall Level
with him on their shoulders as things really started to swing.

BRUINS: To war!  To war!
BAD GUYS: To war!  To war!
DEMONS: Against Za'ha'tra'la'la'la'la'la'la'la'etc'etc!
CROWD: Za'ha'tra'la'la'la'la'la'la'la'etc'etc!
STATION PERSONNEL: Za'ha'tra'la'la'la'la'la'la'la'etc'etc!
MARKY MARK: Za'ha'tra'la'la'la'la'la'la'la'etc'etc!

     At this point, the song paused long enough for everyone to take aim at
the Funky Bunch and open fire.  That bit of pleasantness done, the music

RONALD: It really seems absurd, through war all problems solved!
NORMAN: Since in the 23rd century, all humanity's evolved!

     "Evolved, eh?" Spaulding asked.  "Well, we'll have no evolving on this
station.  Do you know why?"  Ronald and Norman shook their heads.  "I'll
tell you!"

SPAULDING: I don't believe in universal peace
           My credulity you will not fleece
           Whatever you say, I'm against Trek!
           No waffling you will ever detect
           I'm against Trek!

           Your battle scenes may please the eye
           But ours are better, we've got CGI
           Whatever you say, I'm against Trek!
           No magic plot reset button will protect it
           I'm against Trek!

     The would be combatants followed Spaulding around the station, waving
their arms and occasionally firing them, too.

SPAULDING: I'm opposed to Trek, I want more drama!
           I'm opposed to Trek, so your mama!
CROWD: Whatever you say, he's against Trek!
       The Klingons can go ahead and conquer it
       He's against Trek!

     The demons swung into a rousing dance routine, punctuated by the
occasional lambada-esque move.  Everyone moved towards the center of the
Mall level as the music soared.

SPAULDING: I cannot discuss this more, because we're off to war!
ANARCHISTS: To war!  To war!  To fight a shadow war!
EMMA: The station is surrounded, our chances I deplore!
SPAULDING: Hey, don't look at me, I didn't start this war!

CROWD: To war!  To war!  It's time to start the war!
       A war!  A war!  With an orchestral score!
       Some more!  Some more!  You can't have too much war!
       Succor!  Succor!  Time for go to bed, says Tor!

SPAULDING: To war!  To war!  Let's drink a toast to war!
VARNEYLOOP: Liquor!  Liquor!  Pass around the liquor!
SPAULDING & CHICOBALDI: Everybody have a drink, and then have one more!
                 You'll need it to convince you, we have to have this war!

     Glasses were handed out and booze was poured freely.  When everyone
had a full glass, they raised them above their heads and sang:

CROWD: To war!  To war!  Let's drink a toast to war!
       To war!  To war!  Let's drink a toast tglubglubglub!(hic!)
       Let's toast our Sha...doe... waaaaaaaaaaaaaar!

       To war!

     The crowd consumed their drinks, then tossed the glasses behind them.
Hundreds of glasses shattered against the floor, making a satisfying
crashing sound.  The music ended, and everyone started looking around.
     "Well, we can't have our big battle scene now," Zark complained.
"There's glass all over the place."
     "Get the station's janitor in here!"  Spaulding ordered.  "Have him
bring some glass cleaner and some sawdust!  Or maybe just more drinks!"


These answers and some completely unrelated questions will follow next
time, on a strangely melodious... MCLAUGHLIN GROUP!!!!
Date:         Sun, 21 Apr 1996 13:42:28 -0400
From:         Nopporn Wongrassamee (NoppornW at AOL.COM)
Subject:      SG/SF/MW/WW: Analogs #12

        This world was crazy.
        That was Paul's thought as he wandered the UCLA campus in the
000SUPERGUY altiverse. There were superguys running around in spandex
tights. So-called villains running around, popping up and initiating
plans to take over the city/country/world on a regular basis. There was
the stupid Mask Principle, which seemed extraordinarily effective. It was
like something straight out of a comic book.
        This world was crazy.
        The UCLA campus here bore a remarkable resemblance to the one in
000METAWORLD. It had the same buildings, the same layout, the same
professors, and - Paul was willing to bet - the same student alumni. This
UCLA had a few extra departments and professors, mainly dealing with the
paranormal population.
        Paul shook his head. On his world, the paranormal population had
to keep a low profile. The Illuminati, of which he was a member, was
there to keep negative public oppinion from turning into literal witch
hunts. It was a dream of the Illuminati's for paranormals to move among
the more mundane population without fear on either side. This world had
that at least.
        Of course, this world paid the price for it. In the month since
his arrival, Paul had heard of two cities nuked, a plague being spread
deliberately, and lots of property destruction in general. Paul was sure
that the Chinese restaurant on Sunset Boulevard was a direct connection
to Hell(tm), the name itself apparently trademarked. It was a wonder that
public oppinion was as positive as it was.
        Turning around, Paul spotted the last person he expected to see
in this world. "Mary?" It was indeed Mary Sinclair, or at least this
world's version of her. She wore a tight-fitting, all black outfit. Her
hair was longer than his Mary, hanging down to the waist. All in all, she
resembled what Mary would look like if she were drawn in a superhero
        A superhero comic book? Oh, sh...
        "What have you done to my mother?" Mary demanded, grabbing Paul
by the scruff of his neck and lifting him bodily into the air until his
feet dangled several feet off the floor. This was rather impressive since
Mary was shorter than he was. She was obviously much stronger than the
Mary from his own world. "Well?" she said, shaking him.
        Paul readied a spell. It looked he was going to have to fight

                  Overly Bar-B-Cued Authorial Productions
                            /\  \      /  /\
                           /__\  \    /  /__\
                |                 \  /              
            o   |   o              \/               /\_/ | \
              o | o                    _  __  __      |__/\/ 
           _ __/ \__ _  /\ |\ | /\ |  / \/ _ (_   /\/\/  \  /
               \ /     /  \| \|/  \|__\_/\__|__)   /  \__/\/\/
              o | o                                _/\/  \_
            o   |   o          Episode #12          \    / \
                |            "In the offing"
                         *                  ______
                     *  ** *               /\____/\
                     * **  * *            / /\__/\ \
                       ***   *           /_/_/  \_\_\
                      ***** *            \ \ \__/ / /
                      *******             \ \/__\/ /
                      _*****_              \/____\/

                          by Nopporn Wongrassamee
                              the Evil Author

        "We'regonnadie!We'regonnadie!We'regonnadie!" Sissyphus chanted
over and over as his Heck Cruiser plummeted towards the surface of Planet
        "Oh, stop whining!" the Cruiser's captain told Sissyphus. "We'll
just reappear back in Heck when we hit the ground!"
        "But Heck can't afford to buy another Heck Cruiser!" Sissyphus
replied. "YOU'LL be out of a job!"
        The captain thought this over. "We'regonnadie!We'regonnadie!We're
gonnadie!We'regonnadie!" the captain chanted, joining Sissyphus. The crew
immediately joined them.
        On the main viewscreen, the swampy surface of Shtickobwaha loomed
closer at an alarming rate. The screen suddenly filled with a blinding
golden light and the Heck Cruiser jolted, throwing the Heckish crew
around like rag dolls.

        "Hello, Professie Westie," Dr. Laura Chives greeted as she
entered the lab. "I came by to return the Fritzilthingamabober you were
SO nice to loan me."
        "Er, thank you," Professer Weston replied. "Just put it on the
table over there."
        Laura put the piece of technobabble on the indicated table.
"Whatcha doin', Westie-poo?" Laura asked.
        "I'm about to do my first test run of the Dimensional Portal I
built," Weston answered.
        "Ooh, won't that bring make all the icky TV characters enter our
dimension and do lotsa Bad Things like destroy the whole altiverse or
somethin'?" Laura asked.
        "No, because I specifically programmed the Portal to NOT access
the TV dimension. Anything else is fair game," Weston replied. "Well,
here goes nothing." He typed a command into the Portal's computer. There
was a buzzing sound and an object appeared on the Portal's transporter-
like pad. Laura bent and picked it up.
        "It's a rock, Westie," Laura said, puzzled.
        "Yes, it is, Laura, but it's a rock from another dimension!"
Weston replied triumphantly.
        Before Laura could say how unimpressed she was, Paul came flying
backwards through the doorway and tumbled to a halt. Amazingly, he didn't
hit any of the sensitive equipment strewn about the room, so no disaster
occured. Yet.
        "Ouch," Paul commented.
        "Hey, I'm not done with you yet," Mary said as she stepped
through the door. Then she spotted Laura. "You! What the Hell(tm) are you
doing here?"
        "Holding this rock, Mary pie," Laura replied, holding up the rock
from another dimension.
        "Well, I'm not here for you," Mary said. "I'm here for this guy."
She pointed to Paul.
        "Wait a minute, Mary!" Paul said desperately. "Can't we talk this
over?" For all his technomantic knowledge, Paul was barely holding his
own against this altiverse's version of Mary.
        "Talk?" Mary laughed humorlessly. "What's there to talk..." Mary
was suddenly interupted when she suddenly grimaced in seeming pain and
put a hand to her stomach. She used her other hand to steady herself,
grabbing hold of a wired box labeled "Portal Control Circuitry". When she
touched the box, black light flashed from the point of contact.
        The Portal began to buzz suddenly. The buzz grew louder. Data
flashed wildly on the monitor. "What have you done?" Weston demanded
frantically as he futiley tried to regain control of the Portal. The
transporter pad began to shimmer, then a blazed with light. Wind began to
roar around the lab.
        "Uh, did I do that?" Mary asked, recovering. They saw a man clad
in white and purple overalls step out of the light.
        "Who are you?" Laura asked over the wind.
        "Uh, hi!" the man shouted back. "I'm Roger Wilco!"
        The Portal's light grew larger.

        "Boss!" exclaimed Data (pronounced with the short "a", not the
long). "There has been a major manifestation of some Edit-like energies
from the planet. Wait, it is gone now. But I am currently reading massive
quantities of Nerf on the planet where there were none before."
        "So, Mary's beginning to manifest his birth right," the
Interloper mused aloud. "Alright, let's stop this farce and..."
        "Boss!" interupted Waif, the Kinkon security chief. "Several of
Anonymech's Edit fighters have penetrated the Flap and are running amuck
around the Garden Deck! Rikki Hunter's and Lucy Skywalker's squadrons are
moving to intercept!"
        "Damn!" the Interloper swore. Being a grand piano whose
dimensions tended to be measured in thousands of kilometers, the Symphony
o' Doom's entire top hull was a single giant flap that could swing open.
It covered the Garden Deck, which contained forests, cities, amusement
parks, factories... and space ports. "Send whatever fighters we have free
to clear away Anonymech's forces outside."
        "Boss!" called YooHoo-ra, the communications officer. "Commander
Kinky Nurse reports that she has detected a Heck Cruiser crashing into
the planet. It landed intact because of the sudden appearance of Nerf at
their landing zone!"
        "What?! Sissy's here, too?" the Interloper exclaimed.

        "Tell me, Miss Sinclair," Lazarus Baines began, "where is Paul
        "000SUPERGUY," the hypnotized Mary replied.
        "I see," Lazarus said slowly. "And where, pray tell, is this
        "000SUPERGUY is another altiverse," Mary answered.
        "And what is an altiverse?"
        "Altiverse is a contraction for 'alternate universe'," Mary said.
        This went on for a while. Lazarus would ask Mary a question and
Mary replied tersely. In the course of the interrogation, Lazarus learned
about altiverses, Bane's trans-altiversal FTP, Paul's little jaunt to
another worlds, and Mary's dream that prompted it.
         "Mary Sinclair," he began when he was satisfied with the answers
Mary had given, "you will remember none of this. What you will remember
is that we had a pleasant conversation. You reassured me of Paul's
continuing good health and that this interview is now over."
         Mary immediately snapped awake. "Well, Mr. Baines, it was nice
meeting you," Mary said as she stood. "To be honest, I was worried for a
while there. I had this stereotype of the vampire running through my
head. I'm glad you disproved it." With that, she left.
         Lazarus sighed wearily and leaned back into his chair.
         "Do you believe her?" Patricia Baines asked as she materialized
in the chair opposite him.
         "She couldn't have lied to me, Trish," the vampire said.
         "That's not what I asked," the ghost clarified.
         "Unfortunately, yes. I do."
         "That's what I was afraid of," Patricia seemed to sigh. "This
means prophecy is going to be fulfilled soon, doesn't it?"
         Her husband nodded. "Yes. The End of the World is coming. Soon.
And Miss Sinclair will most likely be at the heart of it."

        "Ow, what happened?" Mary groaned as consciousness came back to
        "Hurt, you were," answered Yoga. "Strange it is. Injured none
have been before."
        "Uh, did I pass?" Mary asked as she stood up unsteadily, grabbing
an outcropping of Nerf to steady herself. Yoga just shrugged. Well, THAT
was really helpful.
        Looking around, Mary saw that the swamp had been totally encased
in Nerf. She and Yoga stood in a domed hollow that included the site of
her recent test for Semi Knighthood.
        "What...?" she began to ask, but was interuptedby an explosion.
From it materialized a black trans am sports car. A red LED light pulsed
back and forth in the front. A red, oldfasioned phonebooth impaled the
trans am's trunk with rocket-like exhaust vents flanking the booth. The
side doors swung open and three men got out. The tall driver had curly
brown hair and wore a black leather jacket. Passenger #1 had wild white
hair and wore a whit lab coat. Passenger #2 had curly blond hair worn
long and carried a clipboard.
        "Funny, this doesn't look like Shtickobwaha," the man with the
clipboard said. "SIK, are you sure you have the right place?"
        "Unless you fed me garbage for data, Doctor," the car replied,
"then this is Shtickobwaha."
        "Well then, that must be your friend, Yoga," the driver said to
the Doctor, pointing at Yoga.
        "Hello," Yoga called. "To Shtickobwaha be welcome."
        "Master Yoga? Who are these people? Mary asked.
        "My friend, Doctor When, this is," Yoga replied, gesturing to the
Doctor. "The others I know not."
        "Allow us to introduce ourselves," Doctor When said. "That is Doc
Brownish, a fellow temporal physicist," the wild haired man waved, "that
is Michael Squire, our chaufeur," the tall man smiled charmingly, "and
our transportation is the Squire Industries One Thousand, SIK for short."
        "Greetings," SIK greeted.
        "Mary my student this is," Yoga said, gesturing to Mary.
        "Charmed to meet you," Michael said as he gallanty kissed the
back of Mary's hand. Mary giggled a bit.
        "Here you what brings?" Yoga asked When.
        Before When could reply, there was a tearing sound as a passage
opened up in the wall of Nerf, spilling out dozens of Heck Demons. "You!"
Mary exclaimed, recognizing Sissyphus in the lead.
        "Yes! Me!" Sisyphus laughed in reply, "This time, you won't be
getting away from me! You will be mine!"
        Before anyone could reply, another hole opened in the Nerf wall
and Commander Kinky Nurse leapt out, followed by a horde of purple and
black clad Leggs soldiers. "No! She ours!" Nurse cried.
        Before Mary could object to being treated like some piece of
baggage, yet ANOTHER hole tore open! Pouring out of it were hordes of
power-armored Elementaries, led by a short guy who bore a resemblance to
Yoga. "Wrong all are you! Taking her WE'LL be..." The short guy paused in
midsentence and did a double take when he saw Yoga. "You!"
        "You!" Yoga exclaimed.
        The impromptu audience to this little reunion rolled their eyes
and groaned at the sudden cliche. Then they all leveled their weapons
at each other.

        Feeling the rumble of the Enterprise's fusion engines push her
and the invasion force she was part of out out of Earth orbit, Mary
strapped herself into her WarHorse mecha. Very soon now, the CAFFEDAB
ship was going to arrive and ferry the Enterprise to Mars. About an hour
later, they'll arrive at Mars and establish a beachhead soon after that.
Mary's unit was going to be one of the first ground units to land.
        She listened with half an ear to the bridge activity being piped
into the rest of the ship. No one was quite sure what a CAFFEDAB ship was
like since these aliens typically stayed on the other side of the
asteroid belt. This meeting would be broadcasted back to Earth both for
evaluation and publicity.
        "Good morning, Captain," she heard Colonel Wulf say. "Has the
CAFFEDAB ship been spotted yet?"
        "No, Colonel," Captain Krik replied. "Though if they don't show
soon, they're going to miss the rendezvous."
        "Shouldn't we have picked them up on radar, yet?" Wulf asked.
        "We have no idea what their ships are made of or how they're
constructed," said a new voice. Mary identified it as belonging to Doctor
Gillian Andersen, the expeditions expert on aliens. "Until they actually
show, we should expect anything."
        "Sir!" someone exclaimed. "I'm reading an anomalous object on a
course and...look at that decelleration curve!"
        "Fascinating!" Andersen commented. "According to the radar, the
CAFFEDAB ship is pulling some 20 Gs. Ah, I see the external cameras have
locked onto it."
        Mary glanced at the monitor featuring the outside view. A
featureless, blue-white sphere was growing larger on the screen.
        " apparent means of thrust. No external protrusions or
devices that might be sensors or weaponry," Andersen was saying. "The
spectroscopic reading says that their hull is made up of hydrogen ice!"
        "Sir?" came a new female voice.
        "Yes?" Wulf and Krik chorused.
        "The CAFFEDAB ship is hailing us," the woman reported. "They're
asking for the first half of the payment."
        "Right," Krik replied. "Chirinkov, hit the release switch for the
cargo pod marked 'Payment #1'."
        "Da, Keptin."
        "Ladies and gentlemen," Wulf began, obviously addressing the
entire ship. "We are on our way. It's Mars or bust, now."
        The Enterprise lurched suddenly as the CAFFEDAB ship latched onto
it. "I hope it isn't 'bust', Colonel," Mary muttered to herself.

        "Y'know, Mary, I'm beginning to think that you've given up
looking for those notes the Evil Author might have made about you," Vicky
Kritz said, sitting down next to Mary.
        "Really? What makes you say that?" Mary asked as she finished
reading the Evil Author's copy of The Dragon Reborn, written by Robert
Jordan. The cover had fallen off before Mary had ever lain eyes on it.
The book was also 674 pages long without the glossary.
        Vicky glanced at the other two Robert Jordan books that Mary had
read; both were of similar length as the Dragon Reborn. She raised an
eyebrow questioningly.
        "Okay, you're right," Mary said finally. "Maybe it was like you
said. He wrote about me and my counterparts off the top of his head
without making any notes first. The most we've been able to find were a
few sketches of me and a half finished poster for the Analogs series. I
don't think we're going to find anything more."
        "Eureka!" the Vicky on the computer exclaimed.
        "Of course, I could be wrong," Mary added sheepishly. For those
slow on the uptake, "Eureka!" translates from Greek as "I have found it!"
"What took you so long?" Mary asked.
        "This piece of junk runs Windows '95," replied the Vicky on the
computer. The Vicky next to Mary added, "The file was in the directory
        "Plot_devices?" Mary echoed. "Does this mean we're in the middle
of an episode or something?"
        "Apparently so," Vicky replied. "Finding this file is necessary
for advancing the plot...such as it is."







Find out in future episodes of Analogs, only on...
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***********  *  **  *  *****  *****  *   *  **  *  **  ***  *************
********     **    **  *****      *  *   *      **    ****  ***  ********
Copyright Notice:
This story is (C)opyright by Nopporn Wongrassamee in 1996. All rights

Send feedback to: NoppornW at

"I am no bloody hero!"
              - Matrim Cauthon
                The Fires of Heaven, 5th Book of the Wheel of Time
Date:         Tue, 23 Apr 1996 00:39:46 -0400
From:         hey jupiter (swede at SOJOURN1.SOJOURN.COM)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists IV, episode twenty three

                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS IV:
                           IN UNLIKELY CIRCUMSTANCES
                             (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                                  Episode 23
                                 Gary W. Olson


     [Ahem.  I have an announcement to make.]
     But the big final battle's about to start!
     [That's the subject of the announcement.]
     Hey, how can you be making an announcement now when you're *in* the
final battle?
     Look, you're over there, next to Zark and Janice.
     [Wh... oh.  Well, don't mind that.  I'm one of the other Swedes.]
     [Anyway, I must announce at this time that the big final battle is
     Say WHAT?
     But... but...
     [I'm sorry, but we're clean out of money.  Our Brazilian backers
dumped us for that Mason's Something-or-other Mob feature over on Superguy.
We're almost bankrupt.  That musical number in the last episode was
incredibly costly, you know.]
     How bankrupt is *almost* bankrupt?
     [We can only afford five sentences.]
     Five sentences.
     Not counting these.
     [No -- these were donated to us after suitable begging.]
     So, once the story starts, we've only got five sentences to do this
big horking final battle in.
     [Yes.  Only it's not going to happen, now.]
     What about teasers?
     Do the teasers count towards the five sentences?
     [No, those are done by an outside agency.  Already paid for, no
refunds.  Same with the .signature.]
     [I just hate to see the looks on the kids faces when they hear about
     Wait.  I've got an idea.
     [Do you now.]
     Yes!  Is everything ready?
     [It's ready to go.  I just have to give the cue.]
     Well, then, give it, man!
     [Sigh.  Okay.  Cue!]


     As soon as the janitor finished cleaning up the broken glass and
sweeping up the sawdust, the final battle began in earnest on the Main Mall
Level of Fredonia 5, as the demons tossed aside their musical instruments
and started opening fire with their Hell(tm)fire rifles at the Shadow
Puppets, Bruins, station personnel, or whoever just happened to be in the
way, even each other, as demons are not exactly the most discerning beings
in the galaxy, though they do a damn sight better than whoever lets Pauly
Shore continue to make movies, you know, the ones where he runs around
waving his arms talentlessly, just like Jerriphrrt, only Jerriphrrt wasn't
running, more like flying uncontrollably through the air, having been
thrown by the large and violent Greez Hyperiok in a fit of unbridled rage
that is standard characterization for someone like Greez, and for someone
like Zark Flyby, who was the recipient of the Jerriphrrt missile, despite
not wanting to have anything to do with it, which is about how Jerriphrrt
felt on the matter, only Jerriphrrt made more eloquent comments along the
lines of "eyaaaaaaagh!" and "stop or my mom will shoot!" whereas Zark had
to confine himself, due to his very very very limited intellect to one-
syllable screams like "ah!" and oaths like "your mom!" which he only just
recently learned, having thought for decades that it was supposed to be
"your Motts!" which confused people who were eating another brand of
applesauce just before Zark blew them up and nuked the ashes, much like
Susan B. Anthony was trying to do to Sajanseel Boudoir, only substituting
ordinary Brimstone Mortars for nuclear bombs, which tends to strain the
analogy, but that was understandable, given the amount of straining going
on to avoid the laser blasts that the Shadow Puppets were firing and the
screaming that the hit father-daughter duo of Space Ingenues, Lyle and
Kissy Hitowers, were doing, shattering more panes of glass, frightening
away tourists and giving Joe Don I a severe case of indigestion, which he
attempted to express to his good friends Cardinals Hagen and Van Cleef, who
promptly ran away as they had experienced such explanations before and were
not keen on taking their robes to the cleaners again, which, coincident-
ally, was where Sajon, Professor Parsasentence, Quirk and Benjen were being
taken by the combat skills of the demon hordes despite the covering fire
being directed their way by James Dean, Lenin, Mapa Marbles and the Orkin
Man, who wasn't even supposed to be in this sentence but, hey, he's here
     Captain Spaulding, after paralyzing a dozen demon soldiers with the
Lindey Hop and the Tulsa Two-Step, brazenly stepped aside and smoked his
cigar as Steve Vogel and his monks body-tackled said soldiers into a group
of Shadow Puppets who had been protecting their leader, Steve Shadoe, and
his ally, the Shadow Duck, who, when the chips were down, attempted to sell
each other up the river by pushing each other into the lines of fire, which
at that point were being filled in by, who else, Zark Flyby and Greez
Hyperiok, who between them were creating enough lines of fire to supply a
fishing fleet for a year, or ten thousand miles, whichever came first, not
counting flats, restroom breaks, or that sudden, disastrous decision that
that year's supply of turtle wax is just the thing to add to your mixed
drink, which, getting back to our battle here, is exactly what Floyd Cobalt
and Lark Purree were craving, minus the turtle wax of course, though Floyd,
being a large blue turtle, had other uses for the wax in mind later on,
presuming he could find a female blue turtle to share it with, a
presumption that was not looking terribly likely at this point, given how
incredibly violent and exciting this space battle was, the action, the
glamour, the gratuitous, split-second shot of naked breasts that have
nothing to do with what's actually going on in this very extremely exciting
all-out melee but are absolutely necessary for improving Sfstory's ratings
among males age 14-35, the most important demographic for these kinds of
stories, a demographic Gham couldn't care less about as she evaded laser
blasts by the Logan-inhabited Meester and made a diving run at Sajanseel
Boudoir, snatching the Plot out of his hands only to fumble it due to the
fact that Boudoir, prior to the grand battle, had been eating lasagna and
had gotten the Plot all greasy, so it ended up flying through the air with
the greatest of ease, pivoting casually and evoking cries of "hey, look!"
from Chatsia Slacks and "it's a shoe!" from Kalvin Certain, who has a
certain annoying tendency to state the obvious anyway, not that anything is
really obvious in this story, or inobvious for that matter, more like it
randomly fluctuates between predictable and completely wonkily surreal, and
in case you're playing along at home, this falls in the latter category,
but, for the aforementioned budget reasons, we'll continue along with it as
if it's what is supposed to happen anyway.
     Rumors abounded that the battle was lurching to some kind of
conclusion, which was premature since this was only the third sentence, and
a lot can happen between the third sentence and the fifth, as any good
student of Wall Street will tell you when they're not busy splitting stocks
and kneeing blind beggars in the groin only to yell in pain when the
beggars kicked them in the ankles and stole their rolexes and found some
way to segue back into the battle I'm *supposed* to be narrating as if I
stop going for just a moment the sentence will be over and we'll only have
two sentences left, which any political pundit or soap opera wrangler or
assistant to Neil Diamond will tell you is a thing you don't want to do,
which means I'd better get right back into it, narrating with gusto and not
a small bit of Cary Grant-like suaveness as Jerriphrrt and Benjen teamed up
to annihilate a large swath of Shadow Puppets through the keen and
sublimely mammalian idea of, get this, finding a really bright light and
turning it on them, which cut them off from their essential shadowyness and
caused their deaths, which is okay since they're bad guys, and don't let
anyone tell you different, because if you do, you'll become a peace-loving
hippie, start taking enough recreational narcotics to tranquilize Iowa, not
that Iowa isn't pretty damn tranquil to begin with, like Nebraska and
Kansas, now that I think about it, not that these states are known for
their levels of recreational drug abuse or recreational hippie abuse, both
of which were occurring in record amounts on the Mall Level battle scene,
only minus the drugs and hippies and plus a lot of guns and NRA literature
from which our beloved Renegade Anarchists, reunited again, were rapidly
running away, going around the Food Court with G.X.P. Varneyloop moving
fast up the inside, followed by Chicobaldi, Zacko, BRENDA, TH1K1,
Ambassador DePenn and now they're in the stretch for the finish line in
this 280th annual Kentucky Derby and it's a run for the roses as fast as
you can and it's Zacko in a photo finish which, since he was running with
scissors, proved to be deadly to a large number of bad guys, and don't make
me go into that whole spiel about bad guys, young man, because I have to
start another sentence in a little while, which leaves me just enough time
to note that Quooth was blowing away Shadow Puppets left and right with his
stomach-churning Harmonica rendition of the yuletide classic, 'hey, that's
my spleen,' which ended only when the Plot, last seen flying out of
control, hit phim and knocked phim out.
     Realizing that was his cue, the Swede stopped his long monologue on
the death of the Roman Empire and how it related to themes of domestic
servitude and pantslessness in the American classic "Gilligan's Island" in
order to dive after the Plot, which was kicked away by Ronald and Norman,
the only two characters in the battle who hadn't gotten at least one
mention up till now, I think, I hope, and if I missed anybody, well that's
just too damn bad because we can't afford to go back and do another take
like we did in the good old days of wine and roses, which Emma Goldman, who
I just realized was yet another damn character I forgot to mention,
understood well as she struggled with Satan T. Lucifer Jones for the
control that would release the sixteen-ton weight above the also-not-yet-
mentioned Bagelos who was firing laserbeams at random from his eye jewel,
some of which struck Machiavelli's possessed body, blowing it into little
pieces and freeing up more lines for everyone else, not that much was
getting said at this point, aside from "hwoog!" and "no, not the Ming
vase!" and "well, hello sailor," the last of which was not actually getting
said in the room where the battle was taking place but was significantly
more interesting than most else of what was being said, though not as
interesting as what was being done, such as Janice Hoffiser lifting up
Susan B. Anthony, punching her through a solid steel wall, tossing the
still-tied-up Bagelos into the heaving fray, catching the sixteen ton
weight and flinging it effortlessly at Steve Shadoe, who wet himself
immediately prior to being crushed flatter than a really flat thing, a sure
sign that the battle was lurching toward being concluded and that I'm
running out of clever metaphors at a mind-numbing rate, much like the
battle was running out of disposable extras, as most of the demon soldiers
were dead and back in Hell(tm), most of the Shadow Puppets had experienced
death by lightheadedness, the Bruins had all left to watch the Hockey
playoffs, and the Anarchists were pestering Captain Spaulding for cigars,
even as Zark and Greez finally ran out of ammunition and were forced to
fight hand to hand, an event that quickly faded in significance as they
spent the next several hours trying to determine which parts of their
bodies constituted their hands, as that was an item of knowledge they
didn't routinely make use of, which Ronald and Norman were thankful for as
they dashed to the relative safety of standing behind the hard-swinging,
beer-drinking, taxpaying muse Janice Hoffiser, who, since this sentence is
almost at a close, finished off whatever bits of fighting weren't yet
covered and rescued the Swede from being mugged by a small Yorkie with a
squeak toy.
     Meanwhile, the thousands of Shadoe Ships hovering outside Fredonia 5
opened fire on the station.


Duct tape, the 1812 Overture and thou on an upcoming... SFSTORY!!!!!
Take only as directed.
Date:         Mon, 29 Apr 1996 23:53:18 -0400
From:         hey jupiter (swede at SOJOURN1.SOJOURN.COM)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists IV, episode twenty four

                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS IV:
                            IN A FOUR-PICTURE DEAL
                             (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                                  Episode 24
                                 Gary W. Olson

           [with new corporate sponsors... the DeBooze Consortium!
            Buy a diamond today!  Hell(tm), buy a dozen!  Please!]


     The commander of the Shadoe Armada, whose name also happened to be
Steve, even though he wasn't at all the same Steve Shadoe who got crushed
in the previous episode, smiled as he watched laser beams strike Fredonia
5, slowly but surely weakening the station's hull.  The thought of the
horrendous defeat his enemies would suffer was matched only by his
satisfaction with the diamond ring he had purchased from his nearby
DeBooze-affiliated jewelry store, for only six months salary and a couple
internal organs he wasn't using anyway.
     The battle inside had gone less swimmingly than he and the other
Shadoes had hoped.  The leader of the Shadoes, Steve (again, not the
current viewpoint Steve), had been crushed by a sixteen ton weight, and the
Shadow Duck had been taken into custody and had been cruelly deprived of
the opportunity to enjoy fine quality jewelry at highly-inflated-yet-
compellingly worthwhile prices.  Reflexively, he ordered a diamond-studded
tiara to assuage his anger.
     Soon, however, the battle would be over, and all those who stood
against the Shadoes, including the non-DeBooze-approved jewelry stores on
the station, would feel their wrath.  Only a few more minutes....
     "Sir!" a Shadow Puppet that vaguely resembled your friendly local
jeweler exclaimed.  "There's a ship coming out of overly-hyped space!
They're refusing to identify themselves and they claim that... that..."
     "What?" Steve asked.  "Spit it out!"
     "They say they don't like diamonds."
     "Don't like diamonds?" Steve repeated, adding a sexy, dark, macho
snarl to the words that only a being heavily in debt to the Diamond
Industry can achieve.  "Kill them!"


     In the Author's Altiverse, the Swede, or at least a Swede, stepped
into the Writer's Guild of America offices and, through a complicated
series of moves which did not involve diamonds in any way, subdued a clerk
for assistance.
     "I'd like to get this form for renewal of my Artistic License
approved," the Swede said, charmingly.
     "Um, okay," the clerk said, as the Swede handed him the approval stamp
and a pen.  "Er, could you lean away a bit?"
     "Your... mouthwash.  It just ain't makin' it."
     "Damn," the Swede said.  "And I just ran out, too.  Got anything that
can freshen my breath?"
     "Sure do!" the clerk replied.  He reached up to the desk and brought
down a heaping basketfull of diamonds.  "Have a diamond!"
     "Don't mind if I do," the Swede replied.  He popped one in his mouth
and chewed for a while.  "Hmmm, I think it's working."  He chewed some
more.  "Crunchy, too."  He considered a while.  "No, wait, that's my teeth.
Still, my breath *does* feel fresher."
     "It is," the clerk confirmed.  "And your Artistic License is now
officially renewed.  Congratulations!"
     "Thanks!" the Swede said.
     "Now could you please remove your knee from my throat?"


     "Yes!" Slithis exclaimed.  "We're back in the episode!"
     "It's lucky we encountered the Diamond People of Planet DeBooze," Bin
Shishkabob read from a prepared 3x5 card.  "They fixed our navigational
system and AI, enabling the Ed Enema..."
     "Red Emma," Slithis corrected.
     " get to Fredonia 5 in the nick of time."  Shishkabob frowned.
"You know, these constant plugs for DeBooze diamonds are starting to get to
me.  This smells like a sellout."
     "I'm sorry you feel that way," Slithis said, gazing idly at the
diamond band around his wrist.  "Priscilla, Di'jon?"
     "Yo," Di'jon Mu'tard replied.
     "Bin wants to be taken to the back room and watch some more of the
great DeBooze educational videos we brought along with us."
     Priscilla Fussbonnet and Di'jon grabbed Shishkabob by his arms and
started hauling him away.
     "Noooo!" Bin cried.  "Not the videos!  I don't want to give up six
months salary!  You can't make me!  You can't... noooooo!"  The door
closed, and those on the bridge of the Red Emma shook their heads.
     "Poor dope," Bata commented.  "I knew that would happen."
     "Pretty trails," Dr. Cerulean Brazier, stoned as ever, added, as he
pushed a small diamond up his right nostril.  Next to him, Blob
shapeshifted into an exact replica of the Hope Diamond.
     ((The Red Emma's forward weapon is primed, maximum power,)) Cylla, the
ship's AI, reported.  ((Shall I open fire?))
     "Have a ball," Slithis told her.
     ((Or a diamond?)) Cylla asked.
     "That too," Slithis replied, with a hearty laugh.


     Susan grumbled as her wrists were securely bound with handcuffs made
entirely out of high-quality diamond.  The surviving demonic soldiers were
being similarly bound.
     "Let this be a lesson," Spaulding told her, sternly.  "If this was
Tuesday, those cuffs would be made of ruby.  If it were Monday, I'd be in
bed with a hangover.  Say, that reminds me, what are you doing next Monday?
Care to go out for drinks?"
     "I'm defeated," Susan sighed.  "It will be impossible to smuggle
Spam through Fredonia 5 to Earth now."
     "I don't know why anyone would want to smuggle Spam," Spaulding said.
"Or snuggle Spam, or spam Snuggles, for that matter.  Care for a diamond?"
     "I do not do... endorsements," Susan replied.
     "Only outdorsements, then?" Spaulding asked.  "Too bad.  Hey,
Chicobaldi, want a diamond?"
     "Sure, boss," Chicobaldi replied.  "Onna what basis?"
     "Sure, you gotta hava bases if you wanna hava diamond."
     "Okay, how many bases do you want?"
     "Four."  A golf ball shot by, missing Chicobaldi but hitting Joe Don I
on the forehead, failing to faze him in the least.  They looked up the
steps to see Lt. Zacko performing an extended follow-through, having used
his horn as a makeshift club.  Zeppus Coleslaw tossed a baseball at Zacko,
who swung at it, hitting it to second base, which in actuality was the
still-not-untied Bagelos.  Jerriphrrt leapt, knocked the ball down, then
tossed it to Benjen at first.  Zacko, meanwhile, ran directly from home
plate to third, sliding head first.
     The Swede, who was juggling diamonds, and Janice, who was not, made
their way through the post-battle crowd to a large bank of television
monitors, which were showing the space battle going on outside, with
ongoing color commentary by a panel of jewelers.
     "So, who's winning?" the Swede asked.  "What inning is it?  What's the
     "Well, for a while, it looked like we were doomed," Lark Purree
     "Yeah!" Norman added.  "But check this out!"
     The Swede looked at the monitor, which displayed the Red Emma, which
was laying waste to large sections of the armada with it's prototype
     "Shouldn't be too long now," Ronald enthused.  "You know, this is even
*better* than Sta--"
     "Ronald, no!" Norman exclaimed, stuffing a diamond in Ronald's mouth
to prevent him from finishing the sentence.  "Think about what you're
     Ronald spat out the diamond and shook, visibly.
     "Thanks, Norm," he said.  "The post-battle giddiness must have gotten
to me."
     "Excuse me, friend Swede," Quooth, who had been following the Swede
and Janice ever since the battle ended.  "You said you were an Author,
right?  Only without your powers of Edit."
     "That's right," the Swede confirmed.  "Only... hey.  I think my powers
of Edit are coming back now."
     "Really?" Janice asked.  "Then we can get out of here now?"
     "Lemme check," the Swede said.  He edited up a large diamond and
playfully hit Sajanseel Boudoir over the head with it.  "My power of Edit!
It's back!  We can get out of here!"
     "Before you go, friend Swede," Quooth said, "please hold out your
hand, palm up."
     "Um, okay," the Swede said, doing so.  Quooth leaned forward and
tapped the palm with one of phis feelers.
     "Tag," Quooth said.  "You're it."
     The Swede scratched his head and frowned.
     "My Holy Quest is now at an end," Quooth said.  "Thank you."
     "*That* was your quest, bug?!?" Steve Vogel asked in disbelief.  He
and the Wzaxtil continued debating the matter as they walked away from the
Author, the Muse, the Monitors, the Crowd, and their Diamonds.
     "That was strange," Floyd Cobalt commented.
     "That it was," the Swede said.  "Oh, well.  Ready to go back, Janice?"
     "Sure," Janice replied.
     "You're not still mad at me, are you?"
     "What?  Oh, no."
     "Then you'll still be my muse?"
     "Of course."
     "Why do you have a diamond-bladed hacksaw hidden behind your back?"
     "Ah."  The Swede clutched The Plot to his chest, waved at the crowd,
which was largely ignoring him, as they were busy buying diamonds,
demanding DeBooze quality from the non-DeBooze approved merchants, who,
suddenly realizing their shame, applied to join the cartel.  In a flash of
Edit, Author and Muse returned to the Author's Altiverse.
     "Hey, look!" James Dean exclaimed, pointing to the monitor.  The
crowd gasped as they saw the Red Emma, wounded by laser fire, getting
pounded by the few surviving Shadoe ships.


     "At last," Steve Shadoe mused, fingering a bag filled with diamonds of
various sizes and shapes, each one incredibly costly and, as such, morally
necessary to own.  "Another few blasts will have them.  Then we can turn
our attention back to Fredonia 5."
     "Sir!" the same technician Shadow Puppet from last time called.  "The
diamond-powered scanners detect another ship coming out of overly-hyped
space!  A ship with absolutely no diamonds aboard!"
     "No diamonds?!?" Steve asked, aghast.  "Destroy it immediately!"


     ((According to my scanners,)) Cylla said, ((there are no diamonds
aboard that ship.))
     "Are we in firing range?" Slithis asked.
     ((Weapons are recharging.))
     "Damn.  What ship is that, anyway?"
     ((It is the Starship Voyadejour, commanded by--))
     "This is Commander Chachacha, first officer of the Starship
Voyadejour!  We're lost!  Someone stole our DeBooze-approved diamonds!
     The crew of the Red Emma watched, stunned, as the Voyadejour lurched
between the remaining Shadoe Ships, causing them to open fire, annihilating
one another completely while leaving the Voyadejour untouched.  It wasn't
until the perpetually lost ship lurched back into overly-hyped space that
Slithis thought of something to say.
     "Thank... goodness... they didn't try to mooch any diamonds off of
     "Diamonds are forever, foreverrrrrrr," Dr. Brazier sang, extremely far
     ((Setting a course for Fredonia 5,)) Cylla reported.  ((They're asking
if we want more diamonds.))
     "Of course!" everyone on the Red Emma's bridge replied.

     OR TEN?

[The Author would like it to be known that, after a frank exchange of
 ideas with the DeBooze Consortium, a new sponsor will be found for the
 final episode next week.  He does encourage you to go out and buy diamonds
 whenever possible, though.]

NEXT: The one-hundredth and final episode of the Renegade Anarchists, only
Date:         Wed, 1 May 1996 11:23:50 -0400
From:         Nopporn Wongrassamee (NoppornW at AOL.COM)
Subject:      SG/SF/MW/WW: Analogs #13

        "Well?" Mary asked impatiently.
        "Well what?" Vicky asked in return.
        "Aren't you going to tell me what my Big Secret(tm) is?" Mary
clarified. "Y'know, the one we ransacked the Evil Author's bedroom for?"
        A Vicky clone glanced around the bedroom in question. She
couldn't see and difference between the before-ransacking bedroom, and
the after-ransacking bedroom. Yes, it's that untidy.
        "But, Mary," the Vicky on the computer began reasonably, "you
read the same things I did. Over my shoulder no less."
        "Yeah, I know," Mary replied, "but the Readers don't. They didn't
have the benefit of reading over your shoulder. They had to wait a nearly
a week to see this episode. They...why are you looking at me like that,
        "Mary, I think you've been drawn into the storyline just a bit
too far," Vicky replied. "I should have known. It was bound to happen."
        Vicky sighed. "Mary, it's like this. You broke the fourth wall.
Only Main Characters or a character with the equivalent or higher rank
in the scheme of things. Unemployed Musae usually qualify as bit players.
You, now, are a full fledged Main Character in the Analogs series."
        Mary sat down on the bed in shock. "That means...that means I
won't ever get to be a full time Muse," she said slowly as she worked
through the implications of having her own series. "I'll be put into
dangerous situations, forced to fight Bad Guys, and...and..." She was
about to burst out crying.
        "Shh, there there," Vicky said, wrapping her arms around Mary to
comfort her. "It'll be all right."
        "I'd kill the Evil Author right now," Mary sniffed, "except that
Pickle's already beaten me to it." She sighed. "So, what's my Big
Secret(tm), Vicky?"
        "I'd tell you, but the prologue's almost over," Vicky said.
        "Hey, is that another Fourth Wall brea..."

                  Overly Bar-B-Cued Authorial Productions
                            /\  \      /  /\
                           /__\  \    /  /__\
                |                 \  /        
            o   |   o              \/               /\_/ | \
              o | o                    _  __  __      |__/\/ 
           _ __/ \__ _  /\ |\ | /\ |  / \/ _ (_   /\/\/  \  /
               \ /     /--\| \|/--\|__\_/\__|__)   /  \__/\/\/
              o | o                                _/\/  \_
            o   |   o         Episode #13           \    / \
                |      "Diamonds? We don't need no
                           steenkin' diamonds!"
                         *                  ______
                     *  ** *               /\____/\
                     * **  * *            / /\__/\ \
                       ***   *           /_/_/  \_\_\
                      ***** *            \ \ \__/ / /
                      *******             \ \/__\/ /
                      _*****_              \/____\/

                          by Nopporn Wongrassamee
                              the Evil Author

        "You're who?!" Paul asked in disbelief. He had to raise his voice
to be heard over the wind pouring out of the Dimensional Portal.
        "I'm Roger Wilco," the blond man in purple and white repeated.
"I'm a janitor aboard the Deepship 86 and part time hero!"
        "Is it me, or is that Portal getting bigger?" Dr. Laura Chives
asked cutely as an eight foot tall demonic form stepped through the
Portal. It screamed and ear-piercing scream of triumph.
        "Definitely bigger!" Professor Weston judged. "What a fascin...
OOF!" Weston exclaimed as Mary tackled him, just pushing him out of the
path of a fiery green snotball thrown by the demon. The snotball struck a
box on a table and exploded.
        "Right, I'm outta here!" Roger exclaimed, making a beeline for
the door. Paul and Weston opted to follow.
        Mary, on the other hand, decided to attack while the demon was
raising its hand to deliver another explosive snotball. Faster than the
demon could follow, Mary machinegunned it with a blur of hard-hitting
punches, kicks, and even a head butt. Finally, the demon collapsed into
a pile of organic debris.
        "Yech!" Mary commented as she wiped her hands off. "What was that
        "It was a Baron of Hell(tm), Mary-kins," Laura replied. "It's
from the computer game Doom."
        "I think that Westie's Portal has accessed some kinda computer
game dimension," Laura explained. "I have no idea why..."
        "Listen, Doc," Mary interupted, dragging Laura towards the door,
"can we continue this conversation somewhere else?"
        As if in answer, a huge metallic foot was thrust out from the
Portal, immediately followed by the rest of the whatever-it-was.

        "So, still mercenary you are?" Yoga asked his son, Yokel.
        The munchkin shrugged. "A living it is."
        "Not everything money is," Yoga said disapprovingly.
        "The bills it pays," Yokel replied. "Living in swamp it is better
        "Say, Master Yoga," Mary called from her position on SIK's roof,
"I'd hate to interupt a family reunion but we could really use some help
here!" She belted a Leggs soldier across the jaw and deflected several
heckfire blasts and a missile with her Lite Epee.
        "So hasty be not, Mary," Yoga replied, his Semi Psi powers
completely shielding him and his son from the chaos swirling around them.
        "That's easy for you to say!" Mary shouted, slicing open one of
the Elementaries while booting a Heck demon in the face.
        "SIK! How are the calculations coming along?" Michael Squire
called as he punched out a Heck Demon.
        "The Doctors are arguing over the coordinate system again," the
car replied. "That's what you get when you try to mate two totally
incompatible time travel systems together AND then tie it into an AI that
doesn't have the RAM to do all the calculations. I mean, I was just happy
to help you solve crimes and stuff, Michael, but did you ask me if I
wanted to be a time machine? No! You just...Hey! Watch the where you're
swinging that thing, girl!"
        "Sheesh!" Mary commented as kicked aside a Leggs soldier. "You're
as bad as this other droid I know when it comes to whining, SIK."
        "Don't try to cheer me up."
        There was a tearing sound, loud enough to be heard over the din
of battle. Everyone stopped fighting and looked to the source. A rip
appeared in the wall of Nerf and a mecha with a bewildering array of
weaponry stepped through. Some of the gun muzzles appeared to be bigger
than the mecha itself.
        "Hi, there!" boomed a voice from the mecha's loudspeaker. "I'm
known as Anonymech! Anyone who isn't working for me is now my prisoner!"

        "Well, this is quite an...interesting family you have here," Mary
        "Yeah, I know," Wolfgang chuckled. "You sure you don't want to
stay longer?"
        "Nah," Mary replied. "I have things to do. Paul might come back
any day now. By the way, thanks for the bike." She patted the Harley she
was straddling.
        "Your welcome," Wolfgang said. "Have a nice trip."
        "Thanks," Mary said, donning her helmet. "Ready to go, Hazel?"
        "I do NOT like motorcycles," the familiar said from inside Mary's
        "Yeah, well, too bad," Mary laughed as she revved the bike. "It's
a good two hour ride back to LA."
        "Ooooooh," the cat groaned.
        Just for fun, Mary pulled a wheelie as she peeled out of the
Baines estate. This did not do Hazel much good, especially where the
stomach was concerned.
        The hunter watched Mary ride off. Turning on the engine of his
car, he drove to follow. While Mary had been on the Baines estate, he
couldn't go after her while she was surrounded by paranormals. Now, the
hunter could go get her with little trouble at all.

        "Will Mary Sinclair please make herself known to me?" Anonymech
        "No!" came a reply. It was Sissyphus U. Lucky Jones, the leader
of the forces of Heck. "Mary Sinclair is mine! All mine!"
        Several large guns turned in his direction. "What was that?"
Anonymech asked. "Did you say something?"
        "She's yours!" Sissyphus said quickly. "All yours!"
        "Ah, I thought so." Anonymech hesitated. "Say, what does the 'U'
in your name stand for anyway?"
        "Uhn," Sissyphus' secretary instantly replied; she was the only
Heck demon to make it through the battle completely unscathed. There were
snickers all around.
        "Anyway, is Mary there?" Anonymech said.
        "Here I am!" Mary called, raising her Lite Epee. "You want me?
Come and get me!"
        The mecha seemed to shrug. "If you insist," Anonymech replied. He
started his mecha forward...
        ...and was immediately squashed beneath a black WALL that drove
through the Nerf and into the ground. Up above, through the crack in the
Nerf made by the wall, more blackness could be seen.
        A door opened in the wall and a skinny man with really thick
glasses stepped out. "I am the Interloper!" he declared. "Anyone who
isn't working for me is..."
        "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mary interupted testily. "We've heard that
spiel already."
        "You have?" the Interloper said, taken aback. "Well then, I guess
I'll just take you, Miss Sinclair, and...isn't this where you object,
        "It's Sissyphus!" the leader of Heck growled. "And we did that
bit, too."
        "Huh," the Interloper said, scratching his head. "Then I guess
I'll just go straight to capturing Mary Sinclair, then."
        Suddenly, SIK's engines flared to life. "Calculations are done,
guys!" SIK sang. "All abaoard!"
        "Wait..." the Interloper began as Yoga and Michael scrambled
inside SIK. An instant later, SIK, his passengers, and Mary who was still
on the roof, vanished to parts unknown.
        Everyone gaped at the empty space.
        "You forgot about the deus ex machinas, too, didn't you?" came a
voice from behind the Interloper. He turned to see a very dirty, very
ragged, and very pissed off Anonymech standing behind him pointing a very
big gun at him.

        "Captain," called Lieutenant Hurrah, "the CAFFEDAB are signaling
that they are about to disengage. They want the second half of their
payment now."
        "What?!" Captain Krik exclaimed. "Our agreement was for them to
put us in Mars orbit. Why would they back out now when we're almost
        "They say that several Martian fighters are moving to intercept
us and that fighting wasn't part of the deal," Hurrah answered after
relaying the question.
        "Fighters?" Dr. Andersen said. "Martians don't have fighters!"
        "Correction, Doctor, we've never seen Martians use fighters,"
Commander Speck put in. "I'm picking up nine blips heading towards us
from Mars. I believe I have a visual image of one of them." A monitor
flickered, displaying the Martian fighter.
        "Interesting," Andersen commented. "The fighters are a triwing
design with the engines on the wingtips. Not too stable in an atmosphere,
but perfect for a vacuum..."
        "This is the Captain to all hands!" Krik announced over the PA
system. "This is a red alert! I repeat, red alert! We have nine incoming
bogies and are going to Plan Bravo! All fighters and shuttles, prepare to
deploy. All gunnery stations, arm your weapons and prepare to open fire."
He cut the PA. "Chirinkov, how much thrust will we need to make Mars
orbit if the CAFFEDAB released us right now without slowing us down
        "Why, somethen' like 3 Gs, Keptin," Chirinkov replied. "Keptin,
you CAN'T be serious..."
        "Oh yes I am," Krik replied.







See future Analogs episodes for the answers to these questions and more,
        only on...

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Copyright Notice:
This story is (C)opyright by Nopporn Wongrassamee in 1996. All rights

Send feedback to: NoppornW at

"They were the bad guys, we were the good guys, and they made a very
satisfying thump whan they hit the floor!"
                                          - G'kar, Babylon 5
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