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Sfstory Log 118

Date:         Mon, 18 Jul 2016 15:21:47 -0400
From:         eaburns at (Eric Burns)
To:           superguy at
Subject:      SG/SF: Trail Boss #1 (1/2)

Altiverse 000SUPERGUY, local 1994-03-03 12:49 UTC
Twenty-three minutes after the defeat of Satan, Prince of Darkness, Duke of
Smelly Feet, CEO of Hell(tm) Inc., commander of the Hellship Yesj.

APRIL 3, 1994: 7:49 AM EST

     "I can't-believe-he's gone," Relativity Woman panted, her breath
coming in staccato gasps.  "I can't, I can't."  The rest of the room was
silent, apart from the gentle rasp of Spandex Babe's hand against the back
of Relativity Woman's costume, and the quiet sobbing of Dangerousgirl.
     Trashman stood silently, his mind awhirl.  He tried to come up with
reasons for leaving the microphone active, and succeeded -- revenge, a
final torment, an attempt to bring Dangerousman back from the edge, sheer
cruelty -- but he entirely failed to choose a final answer from the list.
     "It's..." Unorthodox Lass began, reaching for Dangerousgirl, but
stopped.  She had been about to assure her teammate that it was okay,
everything was okay.  But that would have been patently false.
     ((Hey, guys?  Listen-))
     "Not now, JOEL," muttered the Masked Bruce.
     ((I really think you ought to see this.))
     "I said not now!  And for crying out loud, would you turn off that
damn picture of the sun-"
     Mike Green gaped.
     ((I told you so,)) JOEL said smugly.
     "LOOK AT THIS, ALL OF YOU!" the Masked Bruce commanded, and the team
looked as one at the conference table as JOEL zoomed the picture.
     Glowing bright orange, its shape difficult to make out in the blinding
light, something six thousand miles long was forcing its way slowly,
ponderously, out of the surface of the sun.

APRIL 3, 1994: 8:00 AM EST

     "If that damned Texan fool hadn't destroyed our engine..." gritted the
demon, sweat pouring down his brow from some unseen exertion.  "See if I
can't re-route some circuits, boost output to numbers three and six."
     Lars pulled, trying not to think.  Was the heat fading?  It was
impossible to tell if the ship was even moving, let alone in which
direction.  He just pulled with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the fact
that he was trusting a demon.
     "Center the stick," the creature roared.  "Hold it dead center!  We're
going to make it!"
     The Yesj heaved against the pull of the sun, its ancient alien engines
blazing away with untold power.  It dragged itself slowly from the
photosphere, into and through the corona, metal boiling away from its
miles-thick hull to evaporate in space, propelled away by the solar wind.
Its Hellish weaponry fused itself in flat scraps to the hull, every access
hatch on the ship welded shut.
     And slowly, steadily, it pulled itself free.
     The great ship began to pick up speed, its hull glowing bright in the
blackness of space as it left the yellow star behind.  It heaved itself
past the orbit of Pluto, a streak of light flashing through the blackness
as it closed in on Venus.  Finally, it turned ponderously end-over-end and
the engines fired gently and constantly.  It slowed, drifting, settling
finally into a solar orbit near Earth's.
     It was essentially alone in open space.  The Xolchipalians and
Ottsamaddawiduans hovered outside Earth's orbit, trying to patch themselves
together and save their wounded.  Earth itself was quiet, as if in shock at
the fate it had narrowly avoided.
     Then, a small vehicle of sorts dropped slowly, softly, toward the dull
red hull of the Yesj.  It flitted forward, almost to the bow, as a
collection of similar tiny ships gathered around it, like a swarm of tiny
insects gathering around an elephant.
     The foremost vehicle -- which, on inspection, could be seen as a Ford
Bronco with a huge set of steer horns on the grille, touched down.  Its
tires melted instantly, and the wheels were welded to the Yesj's hull by
the heat.
     The door opened, and a space-suited figure with a ten-gallon helmet
leaned out, a thick pole in one gloved hand.
     "DAMNitall, it's hot!" he said.  Pointing one end of the pole straight
up, he planted the other end on the hull.  It, too, fused itself in place.
     "Ah do hereby claim this ship in th' name o' the Lone Star State!" he
bellowed, and touched a stud on the pole.  It instantly telescoped upwards
a mile and a half, and an enormous steel Texas flag unfurled and stood
rigidly in space above.  "And ah do hereby rename it...TH' ALAMO'S
     "Och, Stetson darlin'," said a matronly voice from inside the truck,
"I do think it bae time fer a celebration."
     "But yer arm's broke, darlin'," said Stetson, closing the door and
turning to Scotty as he removed his helmet.
     "The rest o' me works just fine," she grinned, wrapping her other arm
around his neck and pulling his face down to her own.

                         Sfstory Digest presents
                       Stetson Tyler, Space Cowboy
                                Trail Boss
                                  Part 1

            Based upon the work, attitude, and sheer willpower
                             Frank Orzechowicz
                  The Large Manly Man in Wet Clothing
                               Nigel Savage

                 Prologue taken from "Yesterday's Hero"
                            William R. Dickson

                       Written, if that's the word
                             Eric Burns-White,
                                Lord Sabre
                   which is a really embarrassing title
               twenty-nine years after you started using it

Altiverse 000SUPERGUY, local 1994-03-07 13:34 UTC

April 7, 1994
11:34 AM EDT
Conning Tower Level 117 (Tertiary Control Deck)
Pretty Damn Fine Ol' Hellacious Ship "Alamo's Revenge's Revenge"

     The man was six feet tall, shoulders broad, grey ten gallon hat held in
his hand. His hair was short and a bit sparse on top, salt and pepper over a
weathered face, tanned brown and of indeterminate ethnicity -- there was
clearly some First Nations in there, probably more than one tribe, alongside
some European, possibly African, and it was hard to rule out Asian.
Similarly, it was hard to tell the man's age from looking at him. Eternal,
maybe. Or perhaps old. Or maybe young. Middle aged was on the table as well,
while the Vegas Oddsmakers had 'post pubescent' as a 1000-to-1 longshot. He
wore a flannel shirt, jeans, and a bolo tie, and his cowboy boots were
functional, not fancy. He was a man who worked, and this was his ranch.
     It just happened to be a ranch that doubled as a crippled starship six
thousand miles long floating at the Earth-Sun T5 point to keep from
accidentally disrupting the celestial mechanics of the planet with its
gravity well. And like any decent ranch that had been through a storm, the
first thing you had to do was get the fences repaired and make sure the herd
was doing okay.
     It is worth noting that the man's former ship -- the Pretty Damn Fine
Ol' Texas Ship "Alamo's Revenge," formerly the largest starship commanded by
a human being or indeed any known sentient in either Altiverse 000SFSTORY
(its origin point) or Altiverse 000SUPERGUY (its end point) had actually had
hundreds of head of cattle on board, along with horses, chickens, fields,
and all the rest, along with the cowpokes and ranch hands what needed to be
on hand to bust broncos and git dogies along. Before its long firey crash in
the Sahara Desert, the call to abandon ship had triggered automatic systems,
grabbing every animal and a frighteningly complete number of plants and
dropping them in their own survival pods. When a man designed a lifeboat, he
didn't leave behind anything he was GOD DAMNED RESPONSIBLE FOR, dagnabbit.
Said survival pods were now floating in a Xolchapalian Containment field,
and said cowhands in survival suits were going from pod to pod seeing that
all the usual work got done. Because damn it, just because everything was in
a pod wasn't a reason to shirk the damn job.
     "Well," the man said, finally. "What we got, then?"
     He said it to one of the small group of people who were standing on the
auxiliary control deck, wearing the brown uniforms of the "Alamo's Revenge"
with the command staff patches. The people who were the man's right hands,
and sometimes his left hands to boot. The stalwart captain, dark skinned
with short curly salt and pepper hair who'd seen more than his share of
danger and continued riding high. The red haired woman who'd gone from
programmer to astronaut to navigator to tactical officer and mastered each.
The tall man -- boyish, really -- with the unruly brown hair and pale skin
who had been the genius architect and shipwright of the "Alamo's Revenge,"
and finally the auburn haired woman, slightly paler than the other red-head
who clearly was her daughter, built a bit like a curvy tank. Around them
were five officers of the alien Xolchipalian Defense Forces, two warriors of
the Ottsamattawidu Empire, a Xolchipalian Commodore and the fabled Galaxy
Hunter who I'd be coy about but only fools were coy about Galaxy Hunter.
     The shipwright -- whose name, since I'm getting tired of being coy
about the humans as well -- was William 'Bill' Tog, shrugged. "It's kind of
a mixed report."
     "That's being kind," the tanklike woman -- Esmeralda Montgomery O'Scott
Campbell, legendary engineer of Her Majesty's Royal Navy turned legendary
engineer of the "Alamo's Revenge" itself -- said with a thick Scots brogue.
"The Primary engine's fucked t'Hell and back, which makes sense since it
came from Hell in th'first place."
     "Not likely," Tog said, shaking his head. "The engines were clearly on
the 'Yesj' before--"
     "Alamo's Revenge's Revenge," the man we mentioned at the beginning
said, arching an eyebrow and making it clear with a look that there was no
possibility of debate in this declaration.
     "...right... yeah. The... "Alamo's Revenge's Revenge" was more or less
in its current configuration when Satan first salvaged and claimed her. He
pretty much just retrofitted the information technology, adapted the
transmission stations, yanked out the powertrain and primary spinal mount
and retrofitted them to use a Hellsconduit and Brimstone Projector instead."
     "So Satan didn't have more'n salvage rights to the ship before us
anyhow," the man in charge said, and yes we seem to continue being coy about
his name even though it was already said in the prologue *and* was named in
the opening titles, so being disingenuous now was just ridiculous right on
the face of it. "So our claim's just as legitimate."
     "More legitimate," the dark skinned man -- Captain Stephen Lee Majors,
former Mission Commander of NASA Astroshuttle "Trailblazer," then Captain of
the "Alamo's Revenge" itself -- said. "After all, Satan's gone. We're here."
     "We're here alongside several billion demons in the main body of the
ship," the younger redheaded woman -- Shauna Campbell, former Royal Air
Force, former NASA Astronaut, operations expert and ploymath -- said. "The
argument can be made that they still have possession of the ship."
     "I don't think so," Majors said. "The entire Conning Tower's cleared
out, as is Engineering -- and we've established that none of the four
hundred and forty decks of the main body of the ship that the demons are
still on have either working Transmission stations or control systems. I'd
say they're less legal owners as an infestation."
     "Wait, four hundred and forty decks?" one of the officers of the
Xolchipalian Defense Forces asked. She looked human, save that her skin was
dark crimson as most of her species was and her hair was bright silver, also
pretty much like most Xolchipalians. Her name was Officer Claudia Christian,
which was a pretty strange coincidence but that's all it was, as she was a
legally distinct entity from any public figures or science fiction actors
from any Earth you may have heard of. We make that plain by putting
'(Coincidence)' after her name and the names of other Xolchipalians who have
coincidental names reminiscent of actors from speculative fiction movies and
television shows... which is to say all of them. "The 'Yesj--'"
     "Alamo's. Revenge's. Revenge."
     "...right. It's six thousand miles long," Christian (Coincidence)
continued. "How can it have only four hundred and four levels in the main
body of the ship?"
     "Actually, quite easily," Bill Tog said. "See... the ship's main body
is a tapered cylinder with the conning tower rising out of the aft
     "Looks like a bloody kazoo," Shauna Campbell muttered.
     "--with levels that are actually cylindrical, one over the next going
into the center, with gravity pulling down on the outer skins. Each deck
plate's approximately thirty-five hundred feet thick and made of the same
remarkable armored material as the outer hull, with a full mile of clearance
on each deck. Since the main body's nine hundred miles in diameter, and the
center twenty miles or so's taken up by engineering and the spinal mount,
that leaves four hundred and forty decks--"
     " do I no longer care," Christian (Coincidence) said.
     "Interesting," Officer Mira Furlan (Coincidence), one of her
comrades-in-arms said. "I'm quite interested. It's easy to think of the
     "Alamo's Revenge's Revenge! This ain't hard!"
     "...quite. It's easy to think of... this ship... as being the size of a
planetoid, but all those levels that are 9,600 kilometers plus, curved
around -- the potential livable area would rival a large planet."
     "Rival?" Bill Tog smiled a bit. "The livable area in the main hull is
approximate nineteen point three times the size of Earth's surface area,
without those inconvenient mountains or oceans getting in the way."
     "Damn right," the man whose name we're *still* not allowed to type
said, grinning savagely. "We got over fourteen thousand Texases worth'a
space down there! By God the possibilities are adequate!"
     Furlan (Coincidence) cocked her head. "Just adequate?"
     "My plans are BIG, lady!"
     "Yeah," a third Xolchipalian officer name of Jerry Doyle (Coincidence)
said, his vice resplendent with cynicism. "Big plans, 'cept for billions of
demons and some question as to whether or not we're even gonna let you keep
this crazy Hellpipe."
     "Ottsamattawidu recognizes the salvage claim," Galaxy Hunter said. The
hero of so many battles commanded respect with his mere presence, and his
words hung in the air the way fish don't.
     "It does?" the Xolchipalian Commander -- Commander Michael O'Hare
(Coincidence) -- of the officers asked, his pet eyebrows looking as
surprised as he did. "I admit, I didn't expect the Empire to so casually
cede such a powerful weapon to such a...."
     "Loose cannon?" Shauna Campbell asked.
     "Certifiable nut?" her mother asked.
     "Crazed man with delusions of grandeur?" Captain Majors asked.
     "Visionary without understandings of basic limits of physics?" Bill Tog
     The man grinned at his peoples' assessments as though they were
showering him with praise. "I'm curious too, got to admit."
     Galaxy Hunter shrugged. "We lost a lot of ships. The Xolchipalians lost
more. We all lost officers. And not one of us even scratched the exterior.
Not one of us except you and your crew. You crippled the engine and came
within a hundred yards of piercing the armor on the Conning Tower. You
forced the ship into a defensive posture for the first time and gave
Dangerousman precious time to get aboard and stop Satan. Only Dangerousman
himself would have a claim to rival yours, and he doesn't want the ship."
     "How do you know?" Officer Christian (Coincidence) asked.
     Galaxy Hunter arched his eyebrows. "I asked him."
     Officer Christian (Coincidence) shrugged. "Good enough."
     "To be fair, I'm inclined to agree with Galaxy Hunter," Xolchipalian
Commodore Robert Vaughn (Coincidence) said. He had commanded the
Xolchipalian Task Force that had broken itself on the ship's bow, trying to
delay the attack. "If one of our officers hadn't delayed in accepting the
'Alamo's Revenge' as part of the task force, we may have stopped Satan with
a lower cost -- and we're not in a position to take possession of this ship.
We can't leave it derelict and we don't have the sheer power to destroy it.
Our esteemed commander here is the best possible candidate for claiming and
holding the ship."
     "Now hold on," the man whose name I *still* can't write and that's
really beginning to chafe said. "I ain't no commander! The Captain a'this
ship's over there and his name's Majors, assuming he'll take it!"
     "Of course I will," Majors said. "So long as it's really my command and
not just a fancy title you give me while calling all the shots. *Again.*"
     The man -- damn it, still not cleared to write the name you already
know God Damn it -- laughed. "Well said, son! But don't worry -- I got
work'a my own. Oh, I'll be the owner 'cause I'm always the owner and 'sides,
I claimed the damn thing, but it's your ship. Me -- I got to think about
those fourteen thousand Texases down in the primary hull to fill up!"
     "Fill up?" Shauna Campbell asked. "What do you mean?"
     "I mean I got plans -- travelin' the stars is all fine, but there's
more that can be done! I'm gonna blaze a trail and remake pioneering --
because we're carryin' the damn prairie with us! We're the colony and the
ship all in one, the biggest Conestoga wagon ever done ride, and the damn
territory bein' ridden to all at once! We're the Trail and its destination
all at once!"
     Captain Majors arched his eyebrow. "And that makes you--"
     "Makes me? That doesn't make me nothin', son! I'm already here! I'm God
Damned Stetson Cowboy, and I'm the God Damned TRAIL BOSS!"
     There was a long pause.
     "That was the dramatic reveal?" Officer Christian (Coincidence) asked.
     "Isn't that the title of the whole series? How is this a surprise?"
Officer Doyle (Coincidence) added.
     "Don't talk to the camera," Commander O'Hare (Coincidence) said.
     "It's all fine and good," the elder Campbell said. "But we shot the
damned engine out, tore out enough armor from the back'a the conning tower
to actually make it potentially vulnerable, and when Satan got blown back to
Hell(tm) he took the Hellsconduit and the Brimstone Projector with him!
We're on reserve power, one quarter drive, and got no way to replace any of
it. We're damn close to being a space station right now! We can't ride the
damn space trail with our axle broken!"
     "Scotty's got a point," Captain Majors.
     "Don't call me that. I go by Zelda now."
     Captain Major blinked. "You do? Since when?"
     "It's what Stetson called me after I told him I didn't go by Scotty any
more -- like it better than anything you can make outta Esmeralda normally."
     "No... I mean why did you stop being 'Scotty?'"
     "Ask god damned fucking Simon Pegg! He knows why, the bastard!"
     There was a pause.
     "Who's Simon Pegg?" Shauna Campbell asked.
     "*Exactly,*" Zelda snapped.
     "No worries," Stetson Tyler said, smiling that insufferable smile. "I
got a plan for the demons, the power train, the repairs, the spinal mount --
     "How?" Commodore Vaughn (Coincidence) asked. "How could you have a plan
for all that?"
     "I'll admit, I wasn't sure how you were going to pull such a thing off,
Stetson," Galaxy Hunter said. "After the destruction the 'Yesj--'"
     Galaxy Hunter arched an eyebrow. "Not when it was shooting at us."
     "Oh -- good point, son. Carry on."
     "After the destruction of our fleets, it's not like any of us can
provide materials, much less engineering help or even help clearing the
     "We could assign a few officers," Vaughn said, "but even they would
have trouble with billions of demons."
     "Don't sweat it. It's all in the plan!"
     "Where did this plan come from?"
     "Where else?" This was a new voice, causing everyone to turn around.
There, standing near the transmission station, stood a short balding man in
robes. He looked for all the world like Wallace Shawn circa 1989, but he
wasn't. No, he was known throughout the altiverses -- and generally disliked
where he went. He looked insufferably smug. But then, he always looked
insufferably smug.
     "Oh Needlewarp," Shauna Campbell muttered.
     "Language," Zelda snapped.
     "You? Are cautioning me about swearing, Mother?"
     "Bloody right. You're doing it wrong. When confronted with a troll-like
smegma coated fuckwad, you don't waste your curse by saying 'Needlewarp!' I
taught you better than that!"
     "Actually... you didn't."
     "Well, in my mind I did."
     "God, that explains so much of our relationship."
     "How did you get on this ship?" Captain Majors asked the ferretlike
man, ignoring the familial discussion entirely.
     "There's a perfectly simple explanation for that," he replied, walking
towards the group. "And it will cost you twenty bucks to hear it!"
     "You're on retainer, son," Stetson said, "and don't you forget it!"
     "How can I forget it -- I still have a space station to rebuild! But
you're the one paying my retainer -- not him!"
     "Why are you here," Bill Tog half-shouted. "What can you possibly do
for us?"
     "Forty bucks will tell you the answer to both of those!"
     "He's here 'cause I hired him, and he's giving me the details of the
plan that's gonna get this ship up and running better than it ever was
     "Him?" Zelda demanded. "You think he knows how to do that?"
     "Of course I know how to do that, idiot!" the man shouted. "I am the
     "That was a better dramatic reveal," Officer Christian (Coincidence)
     "Was it? It felt stock to me," Officer Furlan (Coincidence) said.
     "Shut up," Officer Doyle (Coincidence) said. "The mike's still on.

(This is the end of Part 1. Part 2... will follow. Believe it!)
Date:         Mon, 18 Jul 2016 15:26:05 -0400
From:         eaburns at (Eric Burns)
To:           superguy at
Subject:      SG/SF: Trail Boss #1 (2/2)

(This is the start of Part 2. If you haven't read Part 1 it's hardly my


     It is likely that some of the people reading this will have no idea
what's going on, from the ship being mentioned above to the odd swear words
right through to this happy section wherein I, the Automatic Story
Transcriber, annotate things as appropriate. This is a fair cop. Some folks
will just have forgotten details. Others will have never known or cared
about them. Several are probably drunk even as they read these words.
Regardless, a quick primer is likely of use.
     This is a story of Sfstory Digest, a shared fiction story that began
back in the wilds of Orono Maine in 1987 and meandered its way through
nearly thirty years of stupidity, chaos and fun over the course of time.
Dozens of people contributed bad Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy ripoffs
amid occasional decent science fiction and a hint of porn to taste. One of
the early prolific writers of this 'thing' was Eric, Lord Sabre -- which is
seriously what he called himself back in the day, because in the eighties
the Internet was oddly more forgiving than it is now, and also he's an
idiot. He wrote thousands upon thousands of words for Sfstory, featuring
space heroes, paladins, ingenues, and hearty and thick amounts of sexism.
Probably racism, too. The sad thing was, he didn't know he was being a dick
at the time. This is what age, experience, and enlightenment teach you. They
teach you that yes -- the Asshole was in you all along.
     Originally the story was written as a shared plotline. One person would
write a post, someone else would write the next and so on. By the end it had
full on 'series names' like Superguy which after all *was* a sequel to
Sfstory and people using Author like it was a title or something and crap
like that. Sabre, in the meantime, had long since buggered off to other
shiny things and left me -- a VM/CMS 999.9943 Automatic Story Transcriber --
to piece this thing together out of the dregs of Sabre's subconsciousness.
For those of you confused by the words 'VM/CMS,' this is a form of mainframe
that isn't based on Unix, any Mac OS, DOS or Windows.
     Stop laughing. It happened.
     Now, I was outdated at the time, since the OmniVAX had long since taken
up universal--
     VAX. It's another operating system not based on Unix, Mac OS, DOS or
     Stop LAUGHING.
     Regardless, I was outdated but did my best. Which, apparently, was only
marginally good enough. Which may be Sfstory's catchphrase.
     Anyhow. Let me try to catch you up a bit.
     This story is a sequel of sorts to "Yesterday's Hero," which was the
big finishing plotline for Satan, who used to be a bad guy both in Sfstory
and Superguy. It was a Superguy story but it had Sfstory elements -- most
notably the inclusion of Stetson Tyler: Space Cowboy and his ship, the
Alamo's Revenge -- a multi-kilometer starship that blew up Altiverse
001SFSTORY's Texas upon launch.
     Oh -- Altiverses. Right. Alternate universes. The first three digits of
an Altiverse's designation are decimal, the remainder is hexavigesimal,
which is totally a word, guys. I didn't make it up. For our purposes, it
means the digits are A through Z, without the decimal numbers showing up at
all. The three decimal digits form a group of altiverses tagged by the
hexavigesimal part of the designation, creating a thousand related universes
in what we call a milliverse for no adequately explained reason. The main
altiverse in the Omniverse -- the whole kit'n'kaboodle -- is 000SUPERGUY.
That's what everything else rests on. It used to be 000 which used to be
SFSTORY, but times changed and people got confused and boo hoo who cares,
Sfstory proper takes place in 001SF, which is quite a long ways away from
000SUPERGUY. Sometimes it's said to be in 001SFSTORY, or 000SF, or
000SFSTORY, or 000 by people who didn't get the memo. For our purposes... we
don't really care. We're not getting paid for this. We're saying it's 001SF
and we're sticking by it, and who's going to argue? Gary Olson? He punched,
remember? It's my damn show now!
     As for Stetson Tyler: Space Cowboy -- this cast of characters
originally belonged to, were created by and written by the very large and
powerful Frank Orzechowicz. In 1997, or thereabouts, he gave the cast to the
aforementioned Lord Sabre, which may have been a tactical error. Regardless,
beyond the shared bits of Sfstory's nature to begin with, the characters
were Sabre's to write, which he never, ever did despite good intentions.
     Frank died.
     Sorry, got real on you there. We won't do it again except we totally
will in like another post or two.
     Anyway, because of this, Frank's voice started getting really loud in
Sabre's head -- which might make you question his sanity but A) that ship
sailed long ago and B) you have no idea how loud Frank is. Shouting from
beyond the pale is way within his wheelhouse. Suffice it to say, he
started... gently pointing out that Sabre had control of his characters, and
that meant it was time they get written. The debate was considerable, but
here we are.
     Yeah, Frank always wins fights. It is his nature. His nature at being
huge and strong and mighty and right most of the time. So he won this one
too, and here we are. For how long? Who knows.
     Anyway, the Sage was Bill Dickson's fault, as was the 'Yesj' which is
now the 'Alamo's Revenge's Revenge' and this is why the first Sfstory post
in three years is taking place in Superguy so far. It all came out of a
story called "Yesterday's Hero" which had a passage yanked out of context at
the very top of this post. It was known from later Superguy posts that
Stetson Tyler, Captain Majors, Lieutenant Campbell, Bill Tog, 'Scotty' who
is now 'Zelda' and the 'Alamo's Revenge's Revenge' continued to have mighty
adventures later on, but we didn't know how we got there.
     Guess what. You -- yes you -- get to find out. That's what we're doing
     Also, Galaxy Hunter was from a Superguy series called "Rad" and the
Xolchipalians are their own deal. I don't get paid by the word.


Altiverse 001SF, local 1204-08-18 12:49 UTC

August 18, 1204
11:49 AM CEST
Le Village de Cloches et Les Excréments de Porcs
Planet Earth

     Radar Vogel had had a storied career. She was Earth's second foremost
Spamologist (after only the legendary Dr. Bing Von Spleen, Earth's Foremost
Spamologist after he killed the first Threemost), Licensed Space Heroine,
Olympic champion beach volleyball player, ESPN (Extra-Sensory Perception
Network) star and fiancee to and companion of the mysterious Timelord known
only as the Intern. All of these things had their place, and had gotten her
significant income from merchandising.
     Very few of them were useful right now, since she was in France in the
Twelfth Century and was about to be burned as a witch because she was A)
pretty and B) clean, and that was proof enough of the supernatural for these
idiots. Having been given the opportunity to say her last words before they
set the fire, and further being told there was no time limit on said last
words, Radar had taken to reciting the entirety of Shakespeare's "Richard
III" from (her admittedly eidetic) memory. The crowd had been discontented
at first, but Radar had excellent delivery made more excellent by the
Intern's TARDIS translating for her automatically so we don't have to worry
about that again. She had been figuring that she could do a few scenes, the
Intern would show up having finished repairing the TARDIS, and then they'd
have a daring escape.
     It was many hours later, and Radar had begun to doubt said daring
     She took the proffered sip of wine from a skin -- water would have
eased her throat more, but drinking what passed for water in 12th century
France was a fast route to begging them to set her on fire and get the pain
over with -- and continued reciting the last speech of Henry Tudor, the Earl
of Richmond -- which is to say the final speech of the play. "Inter their
bodies as becomes their births: Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled that
in submission will return to us: And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
we will unite the white rose and the red: Smile heaven upon this fair
conjunction, that long have frown'd upon their enmity! What traitor hears
me, and says not amen?"
Plod the Dirt Farmer had wept as the play had concluded. "Tis a noble
sentiment of a noble man."
     "Noble?" Maladie the crappy baker asked. "Tis but a churl who wishes to
unite the houses and rule in the stead'a the House a'York!"
     "Oh come now," Dégueuler the terrible innkeeper said. "Richard had
already placed the House a'York into an unnatural state and had the blood of
innocent staining his hands! Y'can't expect York to retain the throne under
such conditions!"
     "Look, I'm not saying York deserves it more than Tudor," Maladie
complained. "I'm just saying that this isn't a restoration but a conquest --
no matter how pretty he makes the burials."
     "Silence!" the priest shouted. "I want to hear the rest of this.
     Radar continued. "England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; The
brother blindly shed the brother's blood, the father rashly slaughter'd his
own son, the son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: All this divided York
and Lancaster, divided in their dire division, o, now, let Richmond and
Elizabeth, the true succeeders of each royal house, by God's fair ordinance
conjoin together! And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so. Enrich the
time to come with smooth-faced peace, eith smiling plenty and fair
prosperous days! Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, that would
reduce these bloody days again, and make poor England weep in streams of
blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase that would with
treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace
lives again: that she may long live here, God say amen!"
     Radar dropped her head to thunderous applause from the gathered
peasants. The Intern could spring out and start the process of distracting
them so she could free herself and begin the kicking of asses NOW.... Damn.
     "Well," the Priest said. "I can say I've never been so moved by the
final words of a witch most damn'd. Now, let's get you burnt so we can get
home to--"
     Radar lifted her head. "Wait, I'm not done!"
     There was a pause.
     "Really?" Plod asked. "I mean, that took hours."
     "Yeah, I dunno if I have another play in me tonight," Dégueuler said.
     "You said there was no time limit," Radar said.
     There was another pause.
     "Is this one depressing?" the Priest asked.
     "No -- it's funny."
     "Really? Like, highbrow funny or--"
     "Chock full of dick jokes."
     There was murmuring. "All right then," Maladie said. "We're listenin'."
     "I'm sure you are," Radar said. She was exhausted, but then there was
something about incipient horrible death that just *motivated* a girl. "We
open in Athens of antiquity, and the King of Athens enters and speaks! Now,
fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace; four happy days bring in
another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow this old moon wanes! she lingers my
desires, like to a step-dame or a dowager long withering out a young man

*** *** ***

Altiverse 001SF, local 1994-03-07 20:18 UTC

April 7, 1994
6:18 PM EDT
Livingston Park
Manchester, New Hampshire, USA
Planet Earth

     288,370 days, 7 hours, 29 minutes and 34 seconds after Radar Vogel had
finished "Richard III" and moved on to "A Midsummer Night's Dream," a tripod
like ship slowly descended through the atmosphere towards the Earth's
surface. it was large enough to house a couple of staterooms, some cargo
space, a control deck and both warp and sublight engines, but small enough
to be easily recreated on a soundstage for closeup and 'hero ship' shots in
a movie. Just saying.
     Naturally, the descent of a UFO had drawn some attention, and the New
Hampshire National Guard, several police officers, a number of onlookers
with guns and sixteen kids from a marching band that had been tragically
misrouted were waiting to defend the Earth from possible invasion.
     The ship soft-landed, coming down easily on struts that slid from the
underbody with the smoothness of buttered silk, and the hiss of hydraulics
as the weight of the ship took over. The grass was a bit scorched but all in
all it wasn't a bad landing.
     Inside, two figures waited. "Are you sure then that they'll be
friendly?" the larger of the two said, wearing massive scale mail, a winged
helmet, stylish glasses and carrying a sacred uru hammer. Because this is a
science fiction story. His brown hair and thick brown beard covered his
slightly pink face well, and his hazel eyes danced with excitement instead
of fear.
     "Trust me, Maeganhard," the other -- a woman with long honey-blond
hair, wearing a pair of jeans, a white cable knit sweater, and a handheld
pistol style personal nuker strapped to one thigh -- said with a slight
smile. "They'll posture a bit but we'll get through to them. It's what I
     "Well -- I trust you as always, but perhaps battle shall yet come to
us!" Brother Maeganhard shouted, hoisting his sacred uru hammer Frank high.
"For verily shall--"
     "I'm about to open the door."
     "Ah! Right! Carry on!"
     The woman did indeed open the door, the hatch sliding down and forming
a long exit ramp. The various people cocked their weapons and pointed.
     Unconcerned, she stepped out, hands half-way up to show she wasn't
actually holding her personal nuker, though she made no effort to conceal
that she *had* it. The powerful Star Warpriest stepped behind her, but let
her take lead. He wasn't so much with 'lead' much of the time.
     "Halt!" the colonel in charge of at least one of the groups (hint --
not the marching band) shouted. "Identify yourselves!"
     "Hello!" the woman shouted. "My name is Lieutenant Linda Madison of the
National Aeronautics and Space Administration's Challenger II mission! I am
also a licensed Space Paladin and Heroine! My ship is the 'Unmitigated
Trout!' I mean no one here any harm!"
     There was a pause.
     "Challenger II?" one of the locals with guns said. "Wasn't that lost
years ago?"
     "Oh yes. Years and years. I've been busy." She smiled a bright smile,
which caused most there to feel a slight peace touch their hearts. "But I'm
home now, along with my friend Brother Maegenhard of the Star Warpriests of
Star Thor."
     "Star Thor?" one of the soldiers asked.
     "Of course," Linda said. "We're science fiction, after all. And the
Jeff Smith Accords apply."
     "Oh, right."
     "So... you... legitimately mean us no harm?" the colonel asked.
     "That's right!" She grinned again.
     "Huh. Okay. Well. What happens now?"
     "Now... we're going to step down to the ground. And then we're going to
go to the Red Arrow diner, because it's been years since I've had home fries
and I can't wait any longer."
     "Whoa -- good idea," one of the Clarinetists said.
     "How will we all get booths?" a soldier asked.
     "It's a nice day -- we can spread out onta the sidewalks," a local with
gun answered.
     "That sounds great!" Linda said. "I'm glad to be back, and I don't
intend to leave again!"
     At this point, both spatiotemporal and altiversal barriers were torn
asunder and the HMS 'Unmitigated Trout,' Brother Maegenhard, and Linda
Madison herself were yanked through the resulting hole in the omniverse,
sealing the barrier behind them.
     "ZWOP!" the hole said as it tore asunder.
     "FWHASH!" the space around the 'Unmitigated Trout' said as it was
pulled in.
     "FGAHN!" the hole said as it slammed shut.
     "AIEEEEE!" the soldiers, locals with guns and marching band screamed as
they were pulled into the wake of the hole, compressed into a singularity
and ejected as a mass of neo-spam.
     Just because you *mean* someone no harm doesn't mean harm won't show

*** *** ***

Altiverse 000SUPERGUY, local 1994-03-07 20:21 UTC

April 7, 1994
6:21 PM EDT
Conning Tower Level 958 (Launch Deck 4)
Pretty Damn Fine Ol' Hellacious Ship "Alamo's Revenge's Revenge"

     "Altiversal UFO Catcher Vortex stable," Shauna reported, working the
controls, goggles on her face. Her hands were steady, her eye on the prize.
"It's coming through!"
     As if by direct order, the HMS 'Unmitigated Trout' burst into existance
through the aperture formed by the ship's Altiversal UFO Catcher Vortex, a
ghostly three-pronged crane of vortex energy fading from sight as it landed
with a CLANG.
     The two people on the landing ramp had managed to flatten and ride out
the shock. The one in front rolled back into the hatch, pulling her personal
nuker out and setting it for "incinerate Times Square and maybe part of
Fifth Avenue." The one in front surged forward, lightning playing over his
ABDUCTION OF TWO AS CAPABLE AS OURSELVES!" he screamed, rearing back with
his hammer.
     There was a long pause, during which time no one on the Launch Deck
made any provocative movements whatsoever.
     "Hello?" Brother Maegenhard asked. "I'm sorry -- can we get on with
this? We were going to go to a diner."
     "One moment, please," Captain Majors said, before turning back to the
group. "All right, they're here."
     "And with them a non-trivial amount of our remaining power reserves are
gone," Zelda snapped. "This is insane!"
     "No," the Sage said. "This is a step in my PLAN!"
     "I'll be feeding you that plan in a moment, y'rascal!"
     "Wait a minute," Shauna said, narrowing her eyes. "I know her."
     "Me too," Captain Majors said. He turned to the Sage and Stetson Tyler.
"Someone want to explain to me why we just kidnapped an MIA NASA Astronaut?"
     "Happily!" The Sage shouted. "And it will just cost you twenty bucks!"
     "Someone please shoot him," Shauna muttered.
     Stetson ignored pretty much everyone, walking up to the ramp where the
Star Warpriest was ready to engage with might and power and the Paladin was
bravely peering around a corner ready to incinerate him with a level of
overpoweredness the man would have cheerfully declared 'Texan.' "Linda
Madison?" he asked.
     "Er... no," Brother Maegenhard said. "I'm Brother Maegenhard," the Star
Warpriest said--
     "He means me, Maegenhard."
     "Oh. Oh that makes more sense."
     Linda kept the Texan covered. "I'm listening," she said.
     "I'm sure you are." Stetson Tyler grinned a broad, Texan grin. "I'd
like to offer you a job."


The answers, as always, can be found on Sfstory Digest! Which is, like, a
name that's way deprecated now that I think about it.
Date:         Tue, 19 Jul 2016 14:10:57 -0400
From:         eaburns at (Eric Burns)
To:           superguy at
Subject:      SF/SG: Trail Boss: The Cast List

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

     When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one
plotline to be revived and other plotlines started within the continuity
bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers
of the Omniverse, the separate and equal station to which the Jeff Smith
Accords and Trundle the Wonder Dog entitle them, a decent respect to the
opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the cast list
deliniating characters that no one likely remembers or cares about enough to
look up.
     This is that Cast List.

*** End Transmission***

                             Sfstory Digest
                      Stetson Tyler: Space Cowboy
                               TRAIL BOSS
                              The Cast List

                            Eric Burns-White
                               Lord Sabre
            who didn't come up with the name Radar, he swears

In order of who cares what the order is:

     STETSON TYLER - SPACE COWBOY: A multibillionaire Texas rancher, oilman,
sushi king, technology wizard, agricultural lord, real estate baron,
railroad tycoon and a shockingly large number of other things. Stetson Tyler
is one of those people who's never failed at a single thing he's ever done.
If he puts his mind, will and tremendous ego to something, he gets it done.
The closest thing to failure he's ever had was in not single-handedly
destroying the 'Yesj' during its attack on Earth, and as it was he crippled
it and did the only noticeable damage to it. The NASA AstroShuttle
'Trailblazer' crashlanded on his ranch, and Tyler was shocked to discover
the majority of the shuttle's construction had been outsourced to Taiwan.
So, he decided to build a ship that was all Texan -- this ended up being the
'Alamo's Revenge.' Responsible for destroying the entire state of Texas when
he launched, but he doesn't generally look back. Bailed and bought out
Donald Trump several times in the eighties and nineties, which allowed him
to walk into Trump office, beat him up for the fun of it, and take all his
money to fund the construction of the ship. In 1990. Because Donald Trump.
He was... you know, a joke. In 1990. Really.
     Stetson Tyler is very disappointed in all of us.
     The Trail Boss of the 'Alamo's Revenge's Revenge,' meaning he's
out the populating of the massive interior of the ship with... well, who
knows what. Who? Stetson Tyler, that's who!

     CAPTAIN STEPHEN LEE MAJORS: A veteran NASA astronaut and mission
commander. Captain Majors is every inch the classic starship captain -- cool
headed, smooth talking, tactically minded, heroically inclined... he's the
real deal. This had lead to him being mission commander of the ill fated
AstroShuttle 'Trailblazer' mission. Captain Majors's quick thinking enabled
the crashing shuttle to land safely on Stetson Tyler's property after
monumental equipment failure. He readily agreed to be the captain of Tyler's
new ship, the 'Alamo's Revenge.'
     Majors learned quickly, however, that Stetson Tyler wasn't one to take
orders from a captain who worked for him, and found himself at most being a
skipper -- passing along the commands to work the will of the real man in
charge. He stuck with it because it was a remarkable adventure, but after
the destruction of the 'Alamo's Revenge' he had to rethink his position. He
has been offered the Captaincy of the 'Alamo's Revenge's Revenge,' but has
only agreed conditional to actually *being* the Captain. Tyler has agreed.
We will see.
     Captain Majors has a notably bad singing voice. He likes animals,
they generally do not care for him.

     LIEUTENANT COMMANDER SHAUNA CAMPBELL: A former pilot and engineer in
Great Britain's Royal Air Force, who successfully transitioned to NASA to
become a Mission Specialist and engineer, earning Astronaut status in record
time, and racking close to two hundred hours in space before the crash of
the 'Trailblazer.' As a result, is best known inside and outside the agency
for her red hair, which admittedly is very nice. Campbell is an expert
martial artist and soldier, can fly almost anything, and is an expert
multitasker. She enthusiastically signed on to the 'Alamo's Revenge' when it
became clear they were going to do more than just orbit and crash, and
probably one of the most loyal crewmembers aboard.
     She was known as 'Sheena Campbell' in earlier years, and apparently has
gone by other first names as well. No one knows why.
     Campbell is the daughter of legendary engineer Esmeralda Montgomery
O'Scott Campbell of the Royal Navy. When Stetson Tyler needed a chief
engineer, Campbell immediately suggested her mother. This has had the
consequence of actually putting her mother aboard the ship, which on
reflection isn't what she'd had in mind.

     LIEUTENANT WILLIAM 'BILL' TOG: An engineering and astronautics prodigy
with an expansive mind and vision which appeals greatly to Stetson Tyler --
the boy thinks big! TEXAS BIG! Bill Tog (most people call him 'Bill Tog'
instead of just Bill or Tog. Why? It's fun to say -- try it! Bill Tog! Bill
Tog! Whoo hoo!) was the Shipwright of the mammoth, multiple-kilometer long
Pretty Damn Fine Ol' Texas Ship 'Alamo's Revenge.' He did not name it,
however. Stetson Tyler named it. Honestly, Bill Tog doesn't know exactly how
the ship got revenge for the Alamo -- it didn't engage Santa Ana's forces in
battle, for example. He'll talk to you about it, though. And a lot of other
things. He'll gladly talk to you about whatever you'd like to talk about.
     Bill Tog got multiple PhD's by 19 years of age, and had a mind capable
of taking a wargame's descriptions and turning it into the most powerful
ship humanity has ever built. Social skills were never at the top of his
character sheet, if you know what I mean. And you do. You know what I mean.
     Bill Tog (Bill Tog!) has signed onto the 'Alamo's Revenge's Revenge,'
but he's not entirely sure why -- yes, he's been invaluable in working out
the composition and logistics of the ship... but ultimately maintaining it
will be Engineering's problem, not his. And... he's not so sure about
serving aboard a ship he didn't design. Especially one that blew up his

absolute legend of the British Royal Navy, Zelda -- known as 'Scotty' at the
time -- has had almost inhuman engineering skills, able to walk into almost
any engine room and rebuild it inside of two hours. The first woman to serve
as Chief Engineer on a Royal Navy combat ship of the line. Really, she's
been 'first' at a lot of things. She is brilliant and she is churlish and
the combination gets results!
     In her fifties now, Zelda (don't call her Scotty -- Simon Pegg knows
why. Damn Simon Pegg!) was looking for a challenge when her daughter Shauna
called her with a doozy. As the chief engineer of the 'Alamo's Revenge,'
Zelda made the ship better at everything, kept it running when it should
have blown up, and delayed it blowing up until it crashed in the Sahara
despite a broken arm. She stayed behind when the trainees -- and crew --
ran! Er, to the lifepods they were ordered to as they were abandoning ship,
necessitating Stetson Tyler to go in and drag her out bodily.
     Zelda and Tyler have had a physical relationship. It doesn't seem to
have had any impact positive or negative on their work relationship, which
honestly skeeves everyone out.
     Zelda was glad that her daughter recommended her for this job, and for
the opportunity to serve alongside her. Really, she was glad that she got to
spend time with her, since she was at sea pretty much throughout Shauna's
life. As a result, she's constantly surprised that Shauna hasn't learned
lessons that Zelda didn't actually get around to giving her. There's some
tension there. Also, though her daughter is a decent engineer, she spends
most of her time either flying things or running ops boards, not fixing
them. And she's an officer. An *officer.* Where did Zelda go wrong?
     Not actually being there ever when Shauna was growing up. That's where
she went wrong. Especially given her ex-husband, but that's another story.
     Zelda runs her engineering department like she runs her car engine.
with no compromises or backtalk, with a readiness to tear the thing out,
rebuild or junk it, and go with plan B.

     LIEUTENANT SAINT LINDA MADISON: A mission specialist and computer
programmer on the ill fated AstroShuttle 'Challenger II' mission, Linda
Madison was pretty much boned from the moment she stepped on board the
thing. After the destruction of the 'Challenger II,' Linda found herself in
several compromising positions before she was accidentally killed horribly.
     Except she wasn't. As it turns out, Linda has a natural affinity for
Space Paladinhood -- and her core Paladin ability is a form of Deus Ex
Machina. When all hope is lost, some extra hope will always be found lodged
beneath the seat cushions. However, said Deus Ex Machina won't generally be
pleasant or comfortable -- rescue doesn't mean safety, after all. So, she
might be beamed out of the exploding ship at the last minute, only to
discover she's in a garbage hold and about to be converted to synthetic
Chicken Kiev dinners. Which happened.
     She has other Paladin and Saint abilities, which she learned about when
she finally met Trundle the Wonder Dog. Some of these powers apparently
involve warm fuzzy blankets and lacy underwear, because of reasons I don't
really want to get into. Since striking out on her own, she has been
exploring her less... textile based abilities more fully.
     As a Licensed Space Paladin, Linda is automatically considered a
Licensed Space Hero as well, and is permitted to use 'HMS' in front of her
ship's name. This pisses off a number of Licensed Space Heroes who had to,
you know, go to classes and certify and stuff to get the damn license, but
what can you do? The system is rigged.
     Was in a long term relationship with fellow Space Paladin Matt
DeForrest. That seems to have ended. She is the proud owner of the HMS
'Unmitigated Trout.' She and friend Brother Maegenhard were travelling back
to Earth in Altiverse 001SF and had in fact landed and prepared to go out
for breakfast at a legendary local diner when they were kidnapped to
Altiverse 000SUPERGUY by the crew of the 'Alamo's Revenge's Revenge.'
Stetson Tyler has offered her a job.
     Whether or not Linda takes it has yet to be determined.
     Linda is basically a kindhearted and friendly person who will go the
extra mile to help someone -- even a stranger. This has resulted in her
getting conned any number of times, and even now she's not one hundred
percent sure where her wallet is.

     RADAR VOGEL: The twin sister of 'Challenger II' and 'Challenger III'
mission commander Steve Vogel, Radar Vogel's own achievements generally
outstrip her brother's. She is Earth's secondmost Spamologist (she had been
fifthmost until the legendary Dr. Bing Von Spleen after he killed the first
Threemost), Licensed Space Heroine, Olympic champion beach volleyball
player, ESPN (Extra-Sensory Perception Network) star, judo champion, and
fiancee to and companion of the mysterious Timelord known only as the
Intern. Known across the cosmos as an actress, model and mad scientist.
Inventor of the Spam Subatomic Reintegrator, or SSR -- a device second only
to Bing Von Spleen's Automatic Beet Peeler and Subatomic Re Integrator (or
ABPSARI) itself in the annals of the horrifying and powerful field of
     Radar had been evil until an encounter with Trundle the Wonder Dog gave
her the chance to become good. Unlike others, she embraced her redemption
and ended up in a long term relationship with the Intern, with whom she
explored time and space for some time.
     The pair ended up in 12th century France after the Intern's Beer-Keg
disguised TARDIS broke down. Radar investigated the area only to be accused
of witchcraft. The evidence -- her general cleanliness and the fact that she
is actually attractive -- was unfortunately compelling by the standards of
their mob-based court, and she was sentenced to be burnt at the stake.
However, she was given a chance to say her last words and as there was no
time limit and she has an eidetic memory, she proceeded to perform a
dramatic one-woman monologue version of "Richard III." She has since moved
on to "A Midsummer Night's Dream" while waiting for the Intern to notice
she's hours late and come create a distraction so she can escape.
     Radar is one of the few Licensed Mad Scientists who's also a Licensed
Space Heroine. Her redemption has more or less 'taken,' but that doesn't
mean she's particularly nice or lacks a vicious streak. She is a deadly
opponent -- she was one of the architects of the massively destructive
Golden Lance weapon, for example. She is also a deadlier friend, since
people around her tend to have... things... happen to them. Nasty things.
Horrible things. Redolent things. Also, she may be good, but she still owes
Bing Von Spleen for a thing or two, and that may be trouble someday.
     Oh, she also almost destroyed the Omniverse. Like... four times. Her

     THE INTERN: A mysterious Timelord who's clearly a parody blah blah
The Intern is blond and handsome and tends to wear blue jumpsuits. Owns a
TARDIS permanently trapped in the form of a beer keg, because I was
GODDAMNED NINETEEN AND A COLLEGE STUDENT when I first wrote this, so cut me
some slack. Also owns a sonic crowbar.
     All right, I'm actually still a fan of the sonic crowbar.
     Has completed the repairs to his TARDIS, and proceeded to get drunk.
only begun to wonder if maybe being like nine hours late means Radar, the
ostensible love of his life, may be in trouble.
     Also has connections to multiple temporal versions of Trudy Tetwaters,
who otherwise is not currently scheduled to appear in this story. Also a
former associate and college roommate of Time Agent 357, who is also not
currently scheduled to appear in this story.

     TRUNDLE THE WONDER DOG: Look. If it got out to certain (not all, by any
means, but *certain*) fundamentalist sects of Christianity that the Second
Coming happened in the form of a small terrier, they would collectively blow
their head gaskets. So, let's just move on, all right?

Warpriest in service to Star Thor, who is like Thor but, you know, in space.
Because of the Jeff Smith Accords, which states all mythological elements
have to have science fiction bases only. Because. So Star Thor. Got it?
     Brother Maegenhard is an enthusiastic and powerful warrior -- cunning
and bright, but unversed in the ways of social niceties and inexperienced in
a universe not based on space giants and Space Loki. He has might and power
and a sacred Uru hammer named Frank, and he's a good man to have on your
side. Because he will FUCK THEIR SHIT UP. Like, Black Metal Concept Albums
     Among his other abilities -- whether it's the hammer, his mighty scale
mail or something else entirely -- is the ability to fly at FTL speeds
without needing either a ship or an oxygen supply. This is amazingly
convenient when it comes to saving airfare, and amazingly inconvenient when
it comes to needing a bathroom. Because if you pee in space? It pretty much
stays with you until you hit gravity. And that's just *pee.* No one wants
that, man. No one.

     SATAN T. LUCIFER JONES: The Devil. The Big E. The Duke of Smelly Feet.
The Lord of the ancient realm of Hell(tm), with its malefic fires and its
     Oh, wait. Sorry. I was looking at the Superguy notes. This is Sfstory
so, you know. Jeff Smith Accords.
     The Devil. The Big E. The Duke of Smelly Feet. Owns a massive fleet of
starships crewed by Space Demons and fueled by Space Hellfire and Space
Hellbourne weaponry and Space Brimstone Projectors. SPACE.
     Satan was once arguably the core villain of both Superguy and Sfstory,
until a hero named Dangerousman stopped his attempted destruction of the
Earth and a hero named Dangerousgirl punched him with the force of a
hydrogen bomb obliterating his form and draining all his remaining power
from his dark soul. At last look, had just begun the slow process of
rebuilding. His fleet is in disarray thanks to the campaign to capture the
massive 'Yesj.' Which, as you'll recall, is now the property of Stetson
     Yeah, that'll go well.
     Satan enjoys playing the fiddle, indulging in the seven deadly sins,

     OMEGAS: Omegas is not in this story. Yes, that pisses him off.

For more -- wait for more SFSTORY DIGEST! Now fortified! Like wine! And
defenses! For the wine!



No, wait -- your business and not mine. Regardless, Episode 1 notes can be
found on the nigh unto dead Superguy_List Livejournal Community! Go to:

And read and comment! Or, just grab the raw PDF if you prefer, over at:

Mind you, it's the same PDF either way, but there's so many *community*
options over at the Livejournaloh who am I kidding. I need a drink.
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