Sfstory Log 014

=========================================================================
Subject:     Arrival
From:        The Cowboy (THC8650 at TNTECH)

Time Agent 357 sat at the controls of his sleek, deadly spacecraft, ever
alert for the slightest danger.  He started only slightly when a small
buzzer sounded.

"Snore.....Snore....[buzz buzz buzz]...snort, huh?"

=You wanted me to awaken you upon our arrival,= a mechanical voice said.

"Oh," replied 357.  "Where are we?"

=I have no idea.  You made me select a random point in Space and Time and
then delete it from my memory.=

"I knew that."

=But the reading audience didn't.=

357's reply was drawned out by the crash of thunder outside the ship.  His
cat-like reflexes had him under the bed drinking milk before.... nah, that's
too corny even for me.  Let's see....  His cat-like reflexes caused him to
throw himself to the floor and draw his DIESCUM pistol.  Luckily, he
suppressed his urger to fire several blasts thru the hull of his ship.
Realizing sheepishly that he was startled by mere thunder, he asked the
computer for breakfast as he examined the SSR.

The Spam Systematic Re-integrator lay on the table.  357 found many
switches, none of which appeared to be marked "off," although fully half
were marked "on."  Having had some experience with Spam powered devices, he
new better than to simply remove all the Spam in the tray.  This can be
rather like shutting down a nuclear reactor by cutting off the cooling
system.  He also knew better than to attempt to disassemble it while it was
still running.  He began to think....

"Let's see, what have I accomplished so far.  I've gotten the SSR out of
netherspace to this place, which seems pretty stable.  With the ABPSAR of my
craft to work against, the SSR shouldn't be causing any strange events.  I
guess the best thing to do would be to sit around until the Intern and Radar
find me, and let them deactivate it."  This last thought angered him, as he
didn't like depending upon anyone.

"Val," he said.  "Fire up the Time Viewer.  We're going to find them first.
And bring my breakfast to the control room."

Busily munching on his BLT (Bologna, Lard, and Tuna) 357 scanned thru the
various Time and Space co-ordinates he knew the TARDIS was capable of
travelling through.  He did not find the Intern, but what he did find made
him curse.  On the viewer he saw a being remarkably similar to Wilhelm
Natchwald fighting with a very large robot.  Between the two of them they
were trashing most of some New England town.  357 jumped into his pilot
chair and ordered the engines to full power.

If he had stayed at the viewer a few moments longer, he would have seen
Ultranatch win his battle.  But every hero has his faults, and 357's was
that he thought and acted too quickly for most of the rest of the CSNOTICE
to keep up with him.

In any case, he knew exactly where he was going.  Unfortunately, Satan and
his mindreading demons also knew it.  Satan cackled an evil laugh (or it
that laughed an evil cackle?) and made plans for the upcoming rematch.
"This time 357 has met his match!"

Has 357 met his match?
WIll the Intern be mad after travelling halfway across the universe to find
out that 357 is back where he started?
Does Satan know that Ultranatch is still in the area?  (hint, hint eric)

you all know the drill.....

***** Entry appended 23:55 on Wed, 04/13/88 by THC8650 at TNTECH    # 164 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     The assault of Netherspace
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     The TARDIS soared through the time vortex, pitching to and fore in
just the way most sailing ships do, and most TARDISes don't.  It was navigating
a very precarious course between Space and Nether Space, which most TARDISes
are incapable of.  However, MAtt DeForrest (President of the now-destroyed
Danielson Hall and Paladin despite his best efforts) used his prodigous
Omniscience to plot a safe course between the two normally mutually
exclusive dimensions.
     Matt himself was sitting in a corner, just beginning to get over the shock
of Boston's destruction.  Linda was there as well, comforting him.
     "Matt, it's all right...there's nothing we could have done."
     "Gone, all gone...."
     "Matt...please...."
     "All my tutorials...the Council of Presidents, Danielson Hall...all gone."
     "Matt...didn't you have any friends in Boston?"
     "Well, yeah, but the political structure was the important thing, and its
gone..."
     "Uh...right...."
     In another corner of the TARDIS sat Mark, polishing his type two phaser
and wondering if there was any point to even returning to Intersteller U, what
with his grades in the toilet and all.  Further, he was wondering just
how Matt managed to take Linda away from him.  All right, so he's a Paladin, and
a Junior, and they're from the same planet, and he had more emotional depth
than a turnip...did all that matter?
     Mark decided he didn't want to answer the question.
     In another corner (TARDISes being multidimensional, they have rather a
lot of corners) sat the huge Sapphire Soul Crystal of Steve Vogel.  Of course,
Steve was incapable of going anywhere just at the moment, as Soul Crystals have
no actual locomotion ability.  He contemplated the different romances in the
area around him and wondered when SFSTORY had become concerned with that sort
of thing.
     In yet another corner sat Toni the Trainee Succubus and Trudy Tetwaters.
These two (before Toni's death) had been cheerleaders together at Freeport
Academy and were now catching up on the news and gossup--mostly stuff about
boys they knew, doomed teenage romances, selling one's soul to become the
best cheerleader on the squad, tests and grades, the whole city being flung
into space at Warp Two, teachers they hated, how stupid the freshmen were,
working for Satan, and traveling around in TARDISes.  All pretty standered
airhead teenage fare, and nothing any of our respected readers would really
care to be informed of further.
     In STILL ANOTHER BLASTED CORNER sat Radar Vogel and the Intern, who
were discussing their plans for the upcoming search and seizure mission.
     "All right," the Intern said, "I'll lead one contengent of SFSTORY
characters on the actual snatch mission.  You'll come along with me, and
when we get the SSR, you'll hightail it back here to the TARDIS and shut
it down.  Linda will lead the other contengent, who'll act as supporting
fire and cover us.  They'll also draw the demons away from us.  Trudy will
come with us, and Toni and Mark will go with them."
     "What about Steve?  Shouldn't we give him something to do?  He'll get
bored."
     "Hmmmm, yes.  I'll think of something."
     "You always do," as she snuggled a little closer.
     "Why thank you," as he leaned towards her and we felt it prudent
to leave this corner and move elsewhere.
     The Warpship Elsewhere, to be exact.  This was a one-being Warpship
designed to travel in Space, Netherspace, Time, Nethertime, and anywhere
else, for that matter.  On board was one being.  A being who looked similar
to Gene Roddenbary crossed with Gahndi.  A being who looked like the sort
of fellow who was once the most enlightened being in the universe, but had
one bad day and was now just another Omnidangerous planetkilling shmuck.
This being was named Muck-Luck, and he was watching a TARDIS tracker installed
in the Elsewhere, to stay on course and attack the Intern and Matt DeForrest.
     Muck-Luck chucked to himself.  "This is going to be easy," he murmered,
as he locked onto the TARDIS as it flew on towards Netherspace.  Logging
into Annialation at Destructionvax5, he seized the multidimensional ship and
totally shattered it, flinging all of its occupents into the void.
     Or at least, that's how it should have gone.
     Muck-Luck unfortunatly didn't count on Linda Madison's presence on
the TARDIS.  Linda was a paladin with the divinly granted ability of Deus
Ex Machina, or "Incredibly Fortunate Coincedience."  In this case, the ability
manisfested itself as a minor glitch in the opetrating system which caused
a minor system's instability and logged Muck-Luck off before he could deliver
the killing blow.  The feedback threw Muck-Luck back, pummeled him for a few
minutes, and left him brused and bleeding while it helped itself to Muck-
Luck's beer.
     In the TARDIS, noone was aware of these events.  The TARDIS finally
translated itself into netherspace, landing on a small hill, near the
Netherspace Nympho Beach not seen for quite some time, but formerlly the
favorite place for Ralph and Dan.
     Dan, by the by, is one of those characters who sort of faded away.  I'm
not going to get into the bizarre cooking accident which catipulted Dan
into netherspace, but as far as I know, he's still on the Nympho Beach, plugging
away at his important research (whether or not extraordinary amounts of sex
causes sentient beings to grow a third arm.)
     However, the group (except maybe Mark) was not interested in the Nympho
beach, but rather was interested in the other side of the knoll--the
slimepits of the Color and Off-Color demons sent to guard the SSR from just
this sort of Search and Seizure from taking place.  Yes, I'd go to the Nympho
Beach too--but there is just no explaining heros sometimes.
     The group began moving out of the TARDIS doorway, weapons drawn, faces
stern, safetys off, and danskins safely skintight.  As they left, Steve
psisaid }}}}}Hey, what about me?{{{{{
     The Intern paused, his eyes catching the quarter-inch tiles on the celing.
"Count the tiles," he said.
    }}}}}Count the tiles?{{{{{
     "Yes, count the tiles and don't leave a single one uncounted!"
     }}}}}Kind of a stupid job, isn't it?{{{{{
     "Stupid?  STUPID????  Good God, Man!  If those tiles don't get counted
and counted soon, we may never leave this place alive!!!!  Get going!!!!!"
     The two groups piled out of the TARDIS and crouched down in the convieient
trench placed there by the author for just such an occurance.  They surveyed
the area ahead of them.
     "Hmmmm...a few Color Demons, a few Off-Color Demons, but nowhere near
as many as I expected." said the Intern, looking through his lightsabre
shaped flashlight like a spyglass.
     "Maybe it means they're holding more near the SSR,"said Radar.
     "Maybe some of them are on Lunchbreak," said Mark, who was immediatly
struck about the head by several people and one succubus.
     After striking Mark, Toni considered for a moment.  "Hey, there were
at least fifty Color Demons here when I was dispatched--and Dispatch was
sending twenty-five off-color Demons.  Both types of Demon are the sort
who pack, not solitary operatives, like the Succubi, Incubi, and assorted
single spirits.
     "Where are the ghostbusters when you really need them?"  Asked
Matt, who wondered if there was an unliscensed Nuclear  Accelerator in his
Bomber Jacket.
     After a quick check, it was found that there was not, in fact, any
weapon designed by Harold Ramis in the Jacket, but there was a goodly number
of Snikers bars and Dr. Pepper, which Matt distrubited and the different
people appreciated.
     "All right then, Radar, Trudy, and I will swing to the left," said the
Intern, "Linda, bring Matt, Mark, and Toni around to the right and begin a
cover fire and low risk assault on the demons.  Any problems?"
     No one spoke up, except Mark, who had to have the plan reexplained to him
in one syllable words.  Then the two groups started to move, stopped,
re-RE-explained the plan to Mark, mostly through hand gesture, told Mark which
side was the right side, moved out again, went through the beginning of this
sentece ONE more time with the thick Freshman, beat him for a while, and moved
out.
     Linda, Matt, Mark, and Toni reached the right parimeter.  Hunched down,
they surveyed the odds.
     "Only seven Color Demons," said Linda, puzzled.
     "And four Off-Color Demons," said Toni, really puzzled.
     "Still," said Matt, "They're more than enough to nuke the four
of us if we aren't careful...we need to divert them, and lauch an attack,
without dying in the process.  Maybe if we built a fire...."
     "Fire?"  asked Mark, "FIRE???  ALL RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!"  Mark leapt to
his feet and began firing ineffectual Phaser shot after ineffectual phaser
shot, screaming "DIE YOU DAMN SATAN SPAWNED INFERNAL COMMIE PINKO LIBERAL
TERRORISTIC MARXIST FACISTIC NAZI SONS OF SCUM JUST LIKE YOU!!!!!!!!"
     "Well, that certainly diverted them," said Linda, who always wondered
what it would be like to die for a good cause.
     All of the demons immediatly turned and charged the group.
     On the left perimeter, The Intern, Radar, and Trudy watched the demons
run off.  "Gee," said Trudy, "They must have come up with a really good plan!"
     "Come on," said the Intern, who ran out to the pedistal where the
SSR was.
     When the group reached it, however, they found an empty pedistal, with
an Egg-beater shaped imprint on it and small spam-stains around it.  There
was also a note, which the Intern read.
     "Attention, this is a valuable clue which reveals that 357 took the SSR,
signed, Eric, Lord Sabre....author of this part of the story."
     "Oh no...." said the Intern.
     "What!?" shrieked Radar, angry
     "WHat?" asked Trudy, truly confused.
     "Never mind, we must get back to the TARDIS!" shouted the Intern,
running across the field, reaching the beer keg, and waiting for the second
group to join them.
     The second group was busy, Nuking, Nuking, phasoring, and hellfiring
demons respectivly, all to no effect.  "We're not gonna make it!" shouted
Linda.  Matt, who has this hero complex, racked his brains for a solution.
Then he remembered the command in his omniscience account--"recall."
     "Everybody," he yelled, even though they were right near him.  "Get near
me!!!!!"
     Everybody got near Matt, without even commenting on his rude yelling.
     "Recall!" shouted Matt.
     *****Are you sure?*****
     "Yes!" as he blasted back another demon.
     *****Really sure?*****
     "Dammit!  The Hell with being sure!  Punch it, Chewie!!!!!"
     In a hyperpotent space-netherspace vortex effect, the four disappeared.
     The Intern saw this through his Sabrelight.  "Damn," he said, "They've
somehow initiated a warphole cycle...they're on their own, for now."
     The three ran into the TARDIS and sealed it.
     Steve looked over and said }}}}}Oh, I'm afraid I'm not quite finished
yet, I'm up to three hundred and twenty four thousand, one hundred and eight,
although I did cheat and use multiplication at one point....{{{{{
     The Intern ignored Steve completly and punched in the coodanates for
the return trip to Earth, and their next move.
     The TARDIS faded away.
     The demons looked at the fading beer keg.  "Damn," one muttered,
"No pun intended, but we're gonna catch some serious Hell for this."
     "Yeah."
     The WarpShip Elsewhere appeared, and landed.
     "Hey," said a Color Demon to an off-color Demon, "A chance to redeem
ourselves!"
     "Yeah!"
     The demons began to pummel the warpship, completly ignoring the Satanic
markings and the protests of the already battered occupent.

WILL THE DEMONS CATCH HELL ANYWAY?
WILL MUCK-LUCK EVEN *SURVIVE* THIS BEATING?
WHERE HAS MATT AND THE GANG BEEN RECALLED TO?
WILL THE INTERN BE ABLE TO GET SAFELY OUT OF NETHERSPACE?
WHO MADE THE SKY, AND WHY DID HE MAKE IT BLUE INSTEAD OF FUSHA?

The answers begger the questions, wrong is right, light is dark, night
is day, read SFSTORY, you're getting sleepy, you're getting sleepy....

***** Entry appended 14:47 on Thu, 04/14/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 165 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Matt goes home
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Matt DeForrest realised everything around him was dark.  He felt warm
bodies pressed around himself.  He knew from familiarity that the body on the
left belonged to Linda, the paladin he loved, or at least thought he loved,
but how could he be sure... etc. etc. etc.  He made an educated guess
that the body on the right was Toni, mostly due to the bat wings he felt
pressing into his side.  He made another educated guess that the body at
his feet was Mark Hyperthrust, mostly by default.
     Matt realised the reason it was so dark was because his eyes were closed.
However, every portion of his body, including his eyelids, ached like each
of his cells was hung over after a particularly successful party.  He opted
to leave his eyes closed.
     *****Feel pretty bad, don't ya?*****
     "Yup," Matt thought, not having the willpower to speak.
     *****Yeah, told you that Recall command was for emergancy only.*****
     "I think being shot at by eleven indestructible demons qualifies, don't
you?"
     *****Hey, you're the boss, I'm just the faithful manservent.*****
     "All right, then, manservent.  Question: Where are we?"
     *****If you'd open your eyes, you'd be able to see where you are.*****
     "Don't get smart with me."
     *****All right, all right...you're in Enlightenment Command.*****
     "Where?"
     *****Enlightenment Command...Muck-Luck's artificial sattilite bungelow.*****
     "Ah.  Will Muck-Luck be coming back here?"
     *****I can't HEAR you!*****
     "Yeah, yeah....  Question:Can muck-Luck come back here."
     *****Nope--he didn't leave via the systems here, so he can't return by
them.  Also, Annialation at Destructionvax5 doesn't have a recall function.  He'd
have to come back via his WarpShip, and its too damaged right now.*****
     "Question--how'd it get damaged?"
     *****Pummeled by the Demons after you and the Intern left.*****
     "He was there?  Oh no--we have to help him!"
     *****Don't sweat it, he's on Satan's side, now.*****
     "Satan's side?  Question: Why?"
     *****Cause he wants to nuke you and the Intern.  He's got a TARDIS
tracker, so wherever the TARDIS goes, he'll be able to follow.*****
     "Uh oh."
     *****Yup...you'd probably better get in contact with him*****
     "Muck-Luck?"
     *****sigh--no, white boy, the Intern*****
     "Oh yeah.  Well, better get a program running to learn how to operate
everything here at Camalot Command."
     *****Where?*****
     "Camolot Command...new name for the place."
     *****Oh, of course.*****
     "All right, Query:complete knowledge and operating instructions for
all rooms, systems, and equipment in and of Camolot Command."
     *****All right, now THAT'S an omniscience command!  But that'll take
a few minutes to work up.*****
     "S'ok, few extra minutes to sleep"  Matt stopped thinking.
     A few minutes later, Superbrain at Oracle2 plugged the complete knowledge
of the artifical satelitte to Matt, including the operating instructions
to effect a cure for the Recall Aftereffects.  Matt opened his eyes painfully,
painfully kissed Linda on the temple tenderly (although it hurt), painfully
rose, painfully staggered over to the command chair, painfully punched a
few buttons, and sighed with relief as the pain left his and the others bodies.
     He climbed into the chair, as the others slowly got up.
     "Where are we?" asked Toni, who was stretching her wings to get the kinks
out."
     "Camolot Command, my command base."
     "Your command base?" asked Linda, "You never told me about this."
     "I didn't know about it until we were recalled here.  But it's mine
now.  You guys want anything?"
     three hours later, the entire group had showered, bathed, relaxed, and
changed into fresh clothing.  Soon, they were all in the command room again,
with Matt sitting in the command chair, Linda sitting on his lap, Toni lounging
on a couch, and Mark praticing his heroic poses.
     "Oh, I like this," said Matt, who was busy replacing "President of
Danielson Hall" with "Supreme Commander of Camalot Command."
     He punched up the communications screen.  "Matt to the Intern, come
in.  Come in, Intern!"
     The Intern appeared on the giant viewscreen (which before had been showing
the robot's progress in scraping the "Enlightenment" paint off the callsigns
and replacing it with "Camalot."
     "Matt, where are you?  What happened to you?"
     "We're on Camolot Command," said Linda, giggling and enjoying this too.
     "Where?  Wait a minute--that looks like Muck-Luck's artificial
Satelitte."
     "It was, its mine, now."
     "He won't like that."
     Matt shrugged.  "Just one more reason for him to kill me."  He then
looked serious.  "Speaking of which, Muck-Luck is a fully willing Satan agent
now.  He's following you in a WarpShip equipped with a TARDIS tracker.
He wants to destroy you, as well as me.  You'd better get over here, so you
can be protected."
     The Intern shook his head.  "If he can track my TARDIS, I'd lead him right
to you and we'd both be killed.  Besides, the SSR had been moved.  Time Agent
357 has it now, and we have to reach him.  Only Radar has the knowledge to
safely disconnect the spamsource and power down that thing.  The only problem
is, we can't lock onto him--he keeps moving through time."
     "Well, let me find him with the Ol' Superbrain, and I'll let you know."
     "Don't get cocky, Matt."
     *****Listen to the timelord, Hyperputz*****
     "Uh, yeah.  Well, anyway," Matt began to blush.  "Question: Where is
357 headed?"
     *****Earth, 1988, April 14th, towards a crater that was once New Haven
Conn*****
     "New Haven too?  What is it with New England towns in this story?"
     *****I dunno, ask Eric, he's the writer.  Maybe New England used to
bully him as a child.*****
     "Anyway, Intern, here's the coodanates."
     "Thanks."
     "Hey," whispered Linda, "You didn't tell him anything."
     "Yes I did," Matt whispered back.  "The author just didn't want to bore
the readers by repeating info right after they heard it."
    "We're signing off now," said the Intern.  "We'll try and get ahold of the
SSR and then we'll contact you there."
     "Right, good luck!"
     The connection was broken.
     "I sure hope they'll be all right," Matt said, as ominous theme music
arose and the camera closed up on his face.

WILL THEY BE ALL RIGHT?
WILL MUCK-LUCK SERVE MATT WITH EVICTION PAPERS?
WILL MATT REDECORATE?
WILL SUPERBRAIN at ORACLE2 CONTINUE TO BE ON GOOD BEHAVIOR?
SHOULD I GET A HAIRCUT?

These questions and many many less are all waiting for you in the next hair
action packed, explosive SFSTORY CSNOTICE!!!!!  In stereo where available.

***** Entry appended 15:29 on Thu, 04/14/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 166 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein Bert does something...
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at bostonu)

     Buzz Williams felt older than he had ever felt. Twenty years ago, he could
have carried Bert (although he would have been carrying a heroine twenty years
ago) while blasting away at the Tung who were beginning to pursue. Now, he was
winded and was sore.
     "Where do we go next, Buzz?" asked Tachi who, thanks to his Zen
training was in prime physical condition.
     Buzz thought for a moment. There was no way they could outrun them.
As he turned the corner and saw three passages, he knew he had to decide
fast.
     A few seconds later, the detachment of Marines lead by Commander
Cutebuns, rounded the corner.
     "HA!" he shouted with conviction, "All three passageways are dead
ends! We have them! Major Dormo, you take a squad down the right corridor.
Major Ette, you take a squad down the left corridor. I'll lead the others
down the central corridor! I want Buzz Williams alive!"
     As the sound of stomping boots and clacking plexisteel armor
faded down the halls, our three intrepid heroes climed down from
the girders on the ceiling.
     "I may not be as young as the Intern or Time Agent 357, but I
can make up for it in being crafty."
     "Yes, you can!" said Bert, sutably impressed.
     Buzz thought to himself that he had to be because he couldn't take
out a full company of Tung Marines and their leaders at close quarters
anymore and that was why he was crafty...but he wasn't so cold as to
crush Bert's image. Beside, with some training, Bert might become a
space hero (OK, a LOT of training) and he wanted him to think.
     "Do we get to put the ship on self-destruct, now? Huh? Can we?
Can we?" pleaded the eager Fungoid Tetrapod.
     "Yes," said Buzz who would have patted Bert on the head
affectionately if it weren't for the fact Bert was 2" taller than he.
     The three heroes made their way to the bridge and, after
a spectacular fight scene involving the wanton destruction of Tung
life...well, let's get into the gory details.
     The three rounded the corner and faced the control room. Buzz
had drawn his sword and quickly dispached the two guards flanking the
door. Tachi blasted a nearby technician in such a way that the shrapnel
from his chair maimed three others (you can do these things when you are
a master of Zen and the art of the Sci-fi shotgun).
     Buzz, as he dove for cover behind a terminal, tossed a guard's
gun to Bert and yelled, "Start shooting!"
     As Buzz blasted three technicians, causing several campy explosions,
and Tachi blew people across the room, Bert cut loose with the Fully
Unbelieveable Killing Energy-Mass beam, Ultra-tough Pistol (FUKEMUP) on
autofire. Not only did he take out the remaining 8 Tungs, he did
property damage equal in price to the current value of Manhattan.
     Buzz and Tachi turned and looked at Bert with the look of shock
you get when your kid brother comes up with a brilliant idea.
     "Did I do good?" ha asked somewhat sheepishly.

DID BERT DO GOOD?
DID BERT DESTROY THE SELF DESTRUCT MECHANISM?
WHAT CITY WILL BE DESTROYED BY ERIC NEXT?
WHERE EXACTLY IS THIS STORYLINE GOING?

If you have the answer to these and other questions, please fill me in soon...

***** Entry appended 15:07 on Fri, 04/15/88 by enldc8c at bostonu   # 167 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Matt's life gets a little wierder
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Matt was having the time of his life.
     Having decided he didn't like Muck-Luck's old arrangements of carpeting
and decorating, was busy redecorating the whole of Camelot Command.  He was
very very busy arranging for the serviodrones to put up crossed longswords,
and all sorts of really neat shields with really neat shield devices, and
paintings and murals of medievil scenes, and a very lovely painting of Linda
wearing a very Queen Guineviere type of gown, with pleats and satin and
silk and a look of absoulute innocence....
     "Spent a whole lot of time mourning, didn't you DeForrest?"
     Matt whirled around.  There, standing a full three inches higher than the
floor should allow, was a translusent, very pale, white apparition
with a slightly scraggly beard, slightly scraggly hair, a very nice sweater,
and chinos.  All in all, he looked like an average Brookstone employee.
     Matthew stared.  "Andy?  Andy Alexander?"
     "You were maybe expecting the Council of Presidents?"
     "But...you're...."
     "Dead," Andy finished for him.  "Oh yes, I'm dead...caught in Boston
while you were off getting your rocks off with some paladin tart!"
     Matt blushed magenta, "How'd you--"
     "I was dead...I was watching...a LOT of us were up there...watching...
Hell, we got us some drinks afterwards...."
     "But what...."
     "And guess what!  I was given the option of completing my last task.  So
I came back."
     "Last task?  What...."
     "Finishing my archeology term paper."
     Matt stared.  "You returned from the grave to finish a term paper?"
     "Weirder stuff happed.  Hell, one guy in Boston went back to finish
posting an entry to some stupid serial he was co-writing!"
     "But--"
     "Except I'm not gonna do my paper!  That was just an excuse!"
     "Then what are--" said Matt, trying desperatly not to get cut off again.
     "I'm gonna spend the next TEN YEARS HAUNTING YOUR ASS!!!!"
     Matt stared.  "Why?"
     "Hey, you were ALWAYS too busy with your damn scheduale and your damn
government to come up to the apartment and spend the night!"
     "There were dishes and ants all over your apartment."
     "That was my stupid roomate's fault!  It doesn't matter," Andy got an
insane grin on his face.  "You've got TIME FOR ME NOW!!!!!!  I might invite
Robin and Ernestine and Andrew Paradis and Ray and Julie and Abbe and Eric
and Jenni and EVERYONE down here...you'd ACTUALLY get to spend a few minutes
with us instead of that silly silly council and that irrelevent government!"
     "IRRELEVENT????  I was the president!"
     "Matthew, president of a dorm government is not that big a deal.  IT'S
MUNDANE!!!!!"
     "Mundane?  MUNDANE??????  Why couldn't Jenni have haunted me instead of
you--she understands..."
     "She underSTOOD, dead as a doornail, remember?"
     "I REMEMBER!!!!!  Look, I'm busy right now--"
     "Busy?  BUSY???  The universe is in danger of Spamming out, the dead
have arisen to chat with you, and you want to go back to DECORATING?"
     "Look..."
     "Matt," came Linda's bubbly voice, "are you ok?"
     Matt turned to her.  "I'm fine!  I'm just TRYING to tell this ghost
a thing or two...."
     Linda looked around, and then looked concerned.  "What ghost?"
     "THAT ghost!"
     "There's nothing there."
     "Yes there is--oh SHIT!!!!!"
     Andy smiled.  "Sorry, shorty, you're the only one who can see me."
     "Did that damn computer account of yours mess you up again," Linda
was growing angry...Matt was one person she didn't want to see trifled with.
     *****Hey, Man, tell the girl I had NOTHING to do with this, its your
Karma!*****
     "But is Andy real?  I mean, question:is Andy--"
     *****Is there a ghost standing next to you that only you can see?  Yes,
there is.  BUT there's a greater danger.*****
     "Are you talking to the ghost or the computer?" asked Linda.
      "BOTH!!!!!....I MEAN NEITHER...I MEAN...I MEAN...Linda...may I please
have a cup of hot chocolate and go to bed?"
     "Yes, Matt," she said, putting an arm around Matt and walking him back
to their room.
     "I'm gonna like this," said Andy, smiling and preparing to follow.
     "No you aren't."
     "What?"  Andy whirled, spinning several times before remembering he was in
mid air with no mass.  He finally stopped.  He was staring at another apprent
ghost, except this one was a golden color."
     It took Andy a moment to recognize the ghost.  "Eric?"  he asked.
     "Of course, you twit!"
     "Wanna help me?" Andy said, excited now.  "I'm gonna make Matt suf-FER..."
     "Andy...I have to tell you something."
     "What?"
     "I'm not a ghost.  I'm one of the authors."
     "You mean--"
     "Yes, you are nothing more than a character and a plot device.  And your
usefulness is used up in this plot."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Well, you were bugged by Satan."
     "Bugged?"
     "Yup...and now Satan knows where Matt, Linda, and Toni are.  He no longer
needs you, and I no longer want to use you."
     "You talk like you work for Satan!"
     "I'm just trying to make an interesting story."
     "Hey, how come we're only speaking in dialogue?  There's no narration!"
     "Because I injected myself into the story.  I can't write narration and
be here at the same time."
     "Oh...But I wanna haunt Matt!!!!!  I was told--"
     "You were told by St. Peter, who's a liar anyway.  Even now, he's
rewriting the Book to haul you back to heaven.  Say hello to Lisa Bonet for me."
     And so, after the author safely pulled his tail out of the story, Andy was
yanked screaming, biting, and arguing back to the land of eternal happiness.
     Meanwhile, a powerful, dark, sinister, and really nasty invasion fleet
of the NKDBFTIV was surrounding the artificial sattilite under the orders of
Satan.  All safely cloaked from its sensors, it was arranging itself to attack.
Unfortunatly, Matt ignored his computer's implied warning and right at the
moment was unable to think of anything besides the girl he was necking with.

HOLY JUMPING CROSS-EYED CREEPSTERS!  HOW WILL THEY GET OUT OF THIS ONE?
Find out, only in SFSTORY!!!!!

***** Entry appended 15:11 on Fri, 04/15/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 168 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Biggest battle since the Big One, part one.
From:        The Cowboy (THC8650 at TNTECH)

"Val, why are we stopping?"

=I've picked up a distress call and was about to offer assistance.  Shall I
ignore it?=

"As long as we're in the neighborhood we might as well see what's up.
Besides, the Hero's Union would kick me out if I didn't."

For those of you who haven't figured it out by now, the two speakers are
Time Agent 357 and his ship's computer, VAL 9000.  They are currently
heading for Earth, a tenth-rate planet circling a insignificant G-class
star, but have stopped to respond to a distress call.

"See if you can get a visual," 357 requested.  A small craft, much smaller
than the HMS Golden Lance, appeared on the screen.  All three of it's
engines appeared to be functioning, and 357 didn't spot any debris.  "They
don't look like they're in trouble.  Try to establish contact."

Soon, the ship on the viewscreen was replaced by a face.  A man's face,
though slightly effeminate.  A long time reader would have recognized it as
the face of Steve Vogel, currently in the possesion of Satan, Prince of
Darkness and Duke of Smelly Feet.  But 357 had never met Steve Vogel, so he
didn't suspect anything.
[A
"Thank God you're here!" exclaimed Steve (Satan) in a voice so sincere even
357 couldn't doubt it.  "We require assistance."

"What can I do to help?" asked 357, always eager to help.

"Well," Steve began, "A special container full of much-needed medical
supplies was accidentally jettisoned earlier today.  We've just located it
on the surface of this G-class star.  We have only minutes before it
disintegrates.  Will you please help us?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Tel you what....  Activate a tractor beam, and then..."

Needless to say, 357 retrieved the "medical supplies" from the surface of
the Sun.  Just as he was about to haul it aboard his ship, however, the
other ship darted forward and intercepted it.  "Thanks a lot, sucker," was
the message that came over the radio.

As 357's jaw did push-ups, the other ship transformed itself into a
dreadnaught class battle cruiser, easily ten times the size of the Golden
Lance.  Val quietly activated her defensive screens and began to warm up the
weapons.  She also detected the presence of a small object near her aft
thrusters, apparently a humanoid body.  A quick scan identified it as tha
body of Steve Vogel.  She relayed this info to 357.

"Needlewarp!" he cursed.  "That must have been Satan I was talking to, in
Steve Vogel's body.  He tricked me into getting him his body.  Now he's back
in his own immortal body and he's thrown away Vogel's."  He thought for a
moment, then "Recover Vogel's body, and prepare for combat."

357 fired up the engines and dove at the advancing dreadnaught, the IMB
Crusher.  On his first pass he scored 27 hits with 7 different types of
weapons, all without effect.  The Crusher fired it's weapons with a similar
effect.  357 brought the 50 megaton atomic bombs, DIESCUM cannon, and
Temporal displacement blasters into play.  Satan did the same with his
demonic equivalents.

The fighting went on for some time.  "Val, what's our status?" asked a weary
357 during one of the lulls in battle.

=Weapons systems down to 34%.  Defensive screens at 14%.  Enemy vessel's
weapons firing at 56% original intensity.  Sensors say their shields are
down to 26% original power.=

"We need a miracle," said 357, swerving around several blasts of demonic
energy.

Up in Heaven, St. Peter watched as the battle unfolded.  He was thorouughly
enjoying himself until he sensed a presence behind him.  Turning, he noticed
a large, bearded man wearing a strange hat and holding a rather powerful
looking gun.

"St. Peter," said the man, "you'd better get to The Book and save 357."

"You're another one of the writers, aren't you?" St. Peter gulped.

"Exactly, now get to it."

At the sight of the battle, space began to be distorted by the huge volumes
of energy being released.  Suddenly, a small, short-lived, but immensely
powerful black hole openned up directly between the two vessels.  Both
stopped firing and poured all their energies into thrust, but they could not
break away.

Will 357 be sucked into the Black Hole and be lost forever?
Will Satan be sucked into the Black Hole and be lost forever?

For the answers to these questions, wait about five minutes for the arrival
of The Biggest Battle since the Big One, part two.

***** Entry appended 19:16 on Fri, 04/15/88 by THC8650 at TNTECH    # 170 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     the biggest battle since the big one, part two
From:        The Cowboy (THC8650 at TNTECH)

The HMS Golden Lance was slowly being dragged towards the Black Hole, in
spite of the efforts of it's engines.  The IMB Crusher was also facing a
similar predicament.  Suddenly, 357 had an idea.

"Val, activate all primary, secondary, tertiary, auxillary, and emergancy
power sources.  Put all that energy into FORWARD thrust, TOWARDS the Black
Hole.  It's are only chance."

=Are you crazy?!?= the computer asked.

"Possibly, but the author wouldn't have put that Black Hole here if he
didn't have a use for it.  DO IT!!!!"

The Golden Lance came to full, emergancy, hell-bent-for-leather power.  It
shot forward like a shot, picking up immense speed.  357 watched as the
speedometer reading increased....0.50c....0.78c....0.97c....0.99c....
0.99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999c.

"We need more speed!" shouted 357 dramatically.  "Do we have any more
energy to use?"

=A few more ergs, but the propulsion systems are maxxed out now.=

"Put the energy into a tractor beam and lock on to Satan's ship.  We'll pull
ourselves towards it and pick up speed that way."

On board the Crusher, Satan was just beginning to realize that 357 was up to
something when the Golden Lance zoomed by.  He ranted and raved when he
realized what they were doing.

The HMS Golden Lance, powered by ABPSAR, antimatter, fusion, fission, and
ionic engines, aided by the gravitational pull of the BH and the tractor
beam pulling on Satan's ship, accomplished a feat never done before and
never will again.  With a last-microsecond change of course, the ship pulled
away for the BH and soared off into space.

The IMB Crusher did not fare so well, and was pulled into the BH.  The BH
winked out of existance as quickly as it had appeared.

357 breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to speak to his ship's computer.
"Think that's the end of Satan?"

=Possibly.  But it is very possible that he teleported off the ship at the
last instance.=

"Then where could he be?"

=INTRUDER ALERT!!!!! INTRUDER ALERT!!!!!=  Sirens and klaxons began
sounding.  357 ran back toward the hold where the SSR was stored.  He
arrived just as Satan was teleporting away, taking the Spam Systematic
Re-integrator with him.  He fired several blasts from his DIESCUM pistol at
the disappearing figure, but succeeded only in destroying a large part of
the far wall.  "Needlewarp!" he yelled.

=Now, now.  Let's control our tempers.=

"Why should we?  We've lost the SSR and Satan has his immortal body back.
The Golden Lance is nearly powerless.  We're almost out of Spam."  357 began
wishing that the author would end this entry of SFSTORY so he could cry
without anyone seeing him.

=Don't worry,= said the calm voice of VAL 9000.  =Things aren't as bad as
they may seem.=

"What the f*ck do you mean?"

What the f*ck DOES she mean?
How will the HMS Golden Lance land without power?
Will 357 remember to activate the Distress Beacon?
Will Eric take these entries as a hint that you CAN portray a major battle
without destroying New England?

For the answers to these and other questions, write your own entry to
SFSTORY CSNOTICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***** Entry appended 19:07 on Fri, 04/15/88 by THC8650 at TNTECH    # 169 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     the confrence
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     In a nebulous place between all dimensions there is a meetingplace
for beings who were deceptivly powerful.  While in most dimensions these
beings were ordinary shmucks who didn't get enough sun or take their
vitamins, in one dimension they were absolute master--above even God and
Satan.
     One was called Sabre, and the other was called Cowboy, and they
were authors.
     Sabre, a man witha mustache wearing the weapon of his name and
smiling, glowing the soft golden glow of all authors in the dimension
they cowrite, was reclined and comfortable.  Cowboy, a largish, powerful
looking man in chaps and a hat, also gold, was a bit wary, but as relaxed
as Marshel BraveStarr.
     "Then we are agreed," said Sabre.
     "Yup, this oughta be as good as the Big Battle, but with only
one ending this time."
     "Right...lets get to it then, and make Jeff proud of us."
     The two authors turned to the platinum statue of Jeff Smith,
the SFSTORY guru, and bowed, murmering "all praise to Jeff, without
whom we'd never have gotten into this silly story in the first place."

But, we digress from the story....

***** Entry appended 19:29 on Sun, 04/17/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 171 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     the calm before the storm
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     }}}}}RADAR!!!!!!!{{{{{
     Radar Vogel ran to her brother's soul crystal at his psiyell.
The Sapphire blue glow was fast fading away.
     "Steve, what's happening to you?"
     }}}}}HHHHHHEEEEEEEEEeeeeeellllllppppppp.....{{{{{
     The crystal crumbled away into dust.
     "Steve...." Radar said, barely audible, as she began to
softly cry in just exactly the way you wished she wouldn't.
     "It's all right," the Intern said, over at the TARDIS control
console. "I've got a fix on him...his soul's flying through Space/Time
at an incredible rate, but I've got the TARDIS warmed up and we're
shooting along direcly behind it.  It's only a minor deviation from
our previous course to 1988, New Haven.  I'll be right behind it
when it arrives wherever its going, and then I'll use my ectocontainment
field to hold it until we can recreate a Soul Crystal for it."  With
that, the Intern Took out his Lightsabre shaped Flashlight, clipped
a component to it, and tested it, the light now being a sickly green
and proton beams similar to those found on Ghostbusters flowing around
it.
     "Intern...thank Gog we fell in Love...."
     "Gog?  Who's Gog?"
     "No, God, the Author mistyped."
     "Oh."
     In the astral regions God was vacationing in until he and Satan
were no longer involved with SFSTORY, the divine being chucked as
he heard his name.  After all, it had been God himself who had caused
Radar to fall in love, to protect her from Satan's power.  He so loved
public recognition.  He then turned back to his copy of Playdivinity.
     "There, the soul's stopping."
     On board the HMS Golden Lance, Time agent 357 was sitting, trying to
figure out just how he was going to reenergise his ship--he couldn't
believe a simple battle with an omnipotent infernal immortal being
could use up all six pounds of spam...well, maybe he could.
     Suddenly, he heard a moaning next to him.
     By the time 357 had turned in his chair, he had also flipped off
all five of the safteys on his DIESCUM blaster and was only one micro-
second away from blowing more holes in the intruder than he had
body to lose.
     It was the lifeless, soulless body of Steve Vogel.  However, it
was moving and breathing in ways lifeless body's shouldn't.
     "Ohhhhhhh...Christ...I feel like a mack truck drove through
my head...." moaned the lifeless, soulless body in yet another way
no lifeless, soulless body should.
     "Who the hell are you?"  Then it hit 357--Satan must have been
destroyed in the Black Hole, and so he had returned to Vogel's body!
     "Captain Steve Vogel...NASA...Captain of the Challenger II...
can I have some asprin."
     "No way, slime king!!!!  Only thing you're gonna get is a one way
ticket back to Hell!"
     Right about now a beer keg matelerized into the command cabin
of the Golden Lance.  357, who was wired to begin with, whipped
around and fired seven full power shots into the beer keg...all with
no noticable effect.
     "357," said the voice of the Intern through a suprisingly clear
PA system, "If you would please stop shooting my TARDIS, I'd appreciate
being able to come out and talk with you."
     "Intern?" he asked.  "I've been looking for you--but I couldn't
find you!"
     "Well, we were looking for you, had to change course from meeting
to chase after Vogel's soul, and found you.  Go figure."
     With a hiss, the Beer Keg cycled open and Radar and the Intern
stepped out.  At one sight of her brother, Radar leapt forward, only
to be held back by the Intern.
     "We have to make sure this isn't one of Satan's tricks," the Intern
said.
     Trudy stepped out a moment later, looked at 357, and shrieked.
     The Intern whipped around and fired his ectocontainment beam
at 357, who got a rather bad radiation burn, a moderate headache,
and a complete sex change--reverting back to male less than four
milliseconds later.
     "Sorry," said the Intern.
     "S'okey, why'd she scream," said 357, who decided to just sit
and feel really rotten for a moment.
     "I'm his companion--that's my job," said Trudy.
     Well, 357 had taken the required courses in Timelord activity,
and couldn't argue with that--so....
     The Intern recalibrated the sabrelight into the Undue Divine
Influence Detector.  Shining the gloden beam over Steve, the Intern
noted the flecks of red light dissapating.
     "He's still recovering from the possesion of his body by Satan.
He probably feels like shit.  We need to administer the antidote."
     "Antidote? What antidote?" asked 357, who was busy changing into
clothes not proton-burned, which embarresed Trudy to no end, as she
was still quite young and sexually inexperianced.  Radar, young and
more sexually experianced than most of Wyoming, was too concerned with
consoling her brother, who, as the Intern noted, felt like shit.
     "Hang on," he disappeared into his TARDIS, and stepped out a
moment later, carrieng a syringe.  He walked to Steve, and injected
him, muttering "no time for him to drink and digest it...gotta administer
it directly."
     "What is it?" asked Radar.
     "The most divine, heavenly substance known to man, beast, fungoid,
weaseloid, gallifreyian, or NKDBFTIV."
     "Classic Coke," murmered 357 reverently.
     "The same," said the Intern, a smug smile on his face.
     "WOW!" shouted Steve, leaping to his feet in a manner which
betrayed none of his inherent sexual confusion.  "I feel great!!!!"
     "All right," said the Intern.  "Where is the SSR?  If Satan has
his infernal body back, then obviously we need to work quickly and end
the threat to the universe!"
     357 looked downcast.  "Satan used his power to steal it.  I tryed
to get it back, but it was two late--now either he, the SSR, and his
ship are all in the depths of a black hole, or else we've lost."
     "Lost?  LOST????!!!!!  By Rassilon, man, that's not the attitude
we need now!  Remember Hope 233!"
     357 looked at the Intern, hope burning in his eyes.  "That's true--
if we could survive that gawdawful optimistic perky downright
nausiating class, we can take Satan in straight sets!"
     "Right, now get this ship to Earth!"
     =I hate to disappoint you, Intern, but that isn't possible.=
     "What do you mean?"
     =We depleted our supply of Spam in the first fight against Satan.=
     "But didn't you say some ship crashed into a black hole? said
Radar.
     "Yeah, so?"
     Radar smiled a grin only a spamologist in her element could smile.
"Well, any time material is thrown into a black hole, it is compressed
into a superdense, highly potent, hoplessly disgusting mass that is
rancid in smell, look, and taste!"
     "Spam!" cried Trudy.
     "Right!  And it has been proven in long distant postings to
SFSTORY that after a preset amount of time, the black hole gets revolted
by the spam and regurgitates it back into realspace!  How long ago did
the ship hit the event horizan?"
     =Twenty-two point one five three minutes ago, ma'am=
     "Then it should appear any second now!"
     Suddenly, five tons of grade A pure spam appeared around the
ship.  Suddenly, there was hope again!
     Yes, I also am struck by the ridiculous nature of hope springing
eternal from five tons of Spam, but I'm not about to go off and fight
Satan either.
     Anyhow about five minutes later, Radar was activly using her
superior knowledge to alter the ABPSAR to handle the load--taking into
account all of the factors involved and pausing every so often for a
quick boff from the Intern.  Then she helped the Intern to understand
enough of the concepts involved to link the TARDIS to the whole
unit, pushed a button, and all five tons of Spam were drawn into
the device--being held in a stasis dimension provided by the TARDIS.
Then the Intern and 357 began to prime, maximize, add, subtract, and
just plain tinker, like the time they created the small cryogenic
bomb they set off in the IU hyperbasketball team's locker, freezing the
team solid and moving on to seduce the entire cheerleading squad.
     But I digress.
     Meanwhile, Satan, holding his stolen SSR, considered manipulating
it, since the eggbeater tongs were whirling around but not doing much
of anything.  Even as his forty thousand ship NKDBFTIV fleet headed
ominously towards the HMS Golden Lance.
     In the Time Vortex, Muck-Luck prepared to appear behing the
Golden Lance as well--and Linda was not there to deus ex machina his
plans again the bitch!

IS LINDA A BITCH?
DOES MATT THINK SO?
DOES THE INTERN, RADAR, 357, AND TRUDY HAVE A CHANCE?
DO YOU REALLY CARE ABOUT TRUDY?
I DON"T.

It occurs to me that anyone reading this is probably
subscribed, so you'll read the next edition of SFSTORY
whether you like it or not!!!!!

***** Entry appended 21:41 on Sun, 04/17/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 172 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     THE BIG BATTLE...or at least the latest big battle
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (with help from the cowboy) (enll6ac at bostonu)

     "All right," shouted 357 down to the Intern, "I think that
does it!!!"
     357 was shouting this from the primary mobile weapons station,
newly cobbled together on the HMS Golden Lance.
     The Intern was below, working on the Primary Osccalating Workload
Enabling Rerouting Ultimate Protoconverter (POWERUP) which directly
fed power from the modified superABPSAR Radar had just finished rewiring
and kicking at odd moments.  "Good," he said, "In a moment, the POWERUP
unit will be ready to keep a steady stream of over 300% power through
all systems on the ship, modulated through my TARDIS."
     "Right, man oh man, this ship'd gonna be the most powerful in
existance at the end of all this!"
     "Hey, when the two of us get together, we get more dangerous
exponentially!"
     Inside the TARDIS was Trudi, who was busy polishing hyperenergy
channeling crystals for the newly installed weaponry.  She was wondering,
as many of the characters in the story were, just why the whole gang
didn't climb into the TARDIS and escaping with their lives.
     The reasons for this were varied.  They mostly centered around pride.
Both the Intern and 357 were liscenced space heros--and were therefore
really annoyed when they had to run away.  But more importantly, if
Satan was allowed to manipulate the SSR without a ABPSAR to work against
it, he'd destroy everything anyway.  They'd might as well go out in a
blaze of glory, perhaps saving the cosmos instead.
     Radar was in the back, working on the ABPSAR.  It was vastly
improved from Dr. Von Spleen's design now...showing that the time
and energy she had put into studying the notes from his briefcase wasn't
completly wasted.  Dr. Von Spleen himself could scarcly do a better
job.  She was trying, however, to figure a way to make it into a defense
against the SSR.  Unfortunatly, the SSR worked against ABPSARs, there
was no way she could see to convert an ABPSAR to work against a
SSR.  Still, with the now multidimensional five tons of spam superpowering
the superABPSAR, they had an incredibly potent ship.  The Intern and 357
were recalibrating the ship to be able to channel that power into the
weapons and defensive systems...and Steve was installing a new weapon
that Radar, 357, and the Intern had just finished throwing together
in a combination kit-bashing-tinkering-hissyfit-orgy-feeding frenzy.
If only it worked.
     Steve wasn't thinking of anything but the job at hand.
     "All right," the Intern's voice came over the PA, "lets get to the
control cabin and prepare for battle.  I estimate the enemy fleet
will be here in under an hour!"
     In a space/netherspace corridor, the WarpShip Elsewhere, newly
repaired after a large amount of battering by Demons, who subsiquently
had been destroyed by one ex-enlightened agent and one infernal immortal,
sat.
     The last sentence makes perfect grammarical sense.  Just go back
and read it again.
     Inside the Elsewhere sat Muck-Luck, who was waiting for a signal
from Satan to launch a huge offensive against 357 and the Intern, backed
up by forty thousand NKDBFTIV starkiller class crusiers.
     Suddenly, his "Satan Wants To Talk To You" button began to blink.
Muck-Luck pushed it.
     "Yes."
     Satan's immacuatly groomed features--once again his own and not those
of Steve Vogel--appeared on his vidcomm screen.  "Good day, Muck-Luck,
there's been a minor change in plans."
     "Oh?"
     "Yes, you will no longer be in the assault on the Intern.  I will
lead that myself."
     "WHAT!!!!!!!!" Muck-Luck boomed with all the force of the might
his destructive computer account could muster.  "HOW DARE YOU!!!!!!!!"
     Satan looked very angry at hearing this, thrust his hand through
the vidcomm screen, and seized Muck-Luck by the throat.  "LITTLE MORTAL,
I AM MY FULLY IMMORTAL SELF AGAIN!!!!!!  DO NOT MAKE THE MISTAKE OF
ATTEMPTING TO SO MUCH AS INFLUENCE *ANY* DECISION I MAKE AGAIN...IS
THAT PERFECTLY UNDERSTOOD????"
     "yesyourmightyevilnessi'llneverdoitagain" groveled Muck-Luck, who
had finally been out-classed.
     "Anyhow, i want you to destroy Linda Madison and Matt DeForrest
for me.  There are only ten thousand NKDBFTIV ships attacking them."
     "Hey, how do you pronounce NKDBFTIV, anyway?"
     Satan shrugged.  "Its the printed page.  We don't really have
to be able to pronounce it.  We just have to use it as if it made phonetic
sense."
     "Oh.  Well, where is DeForrest and that trollap of his, anyway?"
     "Camelot Command."
     "Where?"
     "It was once Enlightenment Command."
     "WHAT!!!!????  I'LL KILL THEM!!!!!  I'LL DESTROY THEM AND FEAST
ON THEIR BONES FOR A MID-AFTERNOON, PRE-TEA, LIGHT AND NOURISHING
SNACK!!!!!!"
     "I thought you'd prefer that assignment."
     Muck-Luck snapped off the vidcomm, turned the Elsewhere around, and
punched off the Camelot Command at Warp thirty-two, proving he was in a
bad mood.
     Back in the Golden Lance, all was in readiness.  Radar was in
Engineering, ready for combat work.  Steve was on the bridge, manning
the scanning and communications consoles, and working directly with
VAL 9000.  The Intern was in the primary mobile weapons station, ready
to coodanate the offensive and defensive potential of the ship into a
mighty weapon.  Trudy had beeen made acting yeoman and was busy making
everyone a nice cup of tea and a light lunch.  All hands were also
equipped with communicators from the old Star Trek show (you know, the
ones you flip up and they make the funny little noise....)
     In the galley, Trudy was looking at one of the fixtures.  It looked
just like a manual egg beater with a wire basket full of spam underneath
it.  The tongs of the egg beater were whizzing away for no good reason.
Finally, she pushed the compucall.
     =Yes, Trudy?= asked Val 9000.
     "What's this thing, Val?"
     =That's an exact replica of the Spam Systematic Reintergater.=
     "Where'd it come from?"
     =I made it.  357 told me I needed a hobby, so I decided on sculpture.=
     "Wow!"
     =The whole thing is made out of painted tinfoil and powered with a
nine volt battery in the box I made look like spam.=
     "How'd you make it smell like spam?"
     =What?=
     Above, in the control room, Steve spun in his chair.  "Bogies, sir,
I count over thirty-five thousand!"
     "Identify them, man!  Hurry!"  357 flipped up his communicator's
anntenna grid.  "357 to Intern--full shields and power  to all weapons,
we're outnumbered forty thousand to one!"
     "I'm on it, 357, hang on  it gets bumpy from here!"
     "Sir," said Steve, "The defensive screens have activated at 540%
usual defensive capacity, the weapons systems are fully charged, and the
bogies are thirty nine thousand, nine hundered and ninty nine NKDBFTIV
Starkiller class crusiers and one Demonic Class Dreadnought!  They're
opening fire!"
     The ship rocked from side to side as mighty antibomb bursts splayed
off the Golden Lance's shielding.
     357's communicator buzzed.  "Sir," came Radar's voice, "Sir, I
cannae be sure ha' long ye can have the power, the shields and weapons--
they cannae take th' strrrrain!"
     "Dammit, Radar, I need that power, Intern, commence destruction!!!"
     "And our new weapon," Intern's voice came back, cool as crystal
in liquid nitrogen, "shall I use it?"
     "Not yet, but lock IT onto the dreadnought, if you can!"
     The sounds of Hypercharged battle lasers and DIESCUM blasts were
heard from the ship's weapons batteries (not included) as 357 began to
deftly pilot the superpotent starship.
     "Sir, there's something you should know about," came Trudy's voice.
     "Not now, Trudy!  Just strap down and pray!"
     "But--"
     The ship rocked, hit by a channeled bean of antispace.  "NOT NOW!"
     "Rear shield energy depleted thirty percent--to 510% usual operating
capacity," yelled Steve.
     "Radar, get on that weak shield!  Can you allocate it more power?"
The Intern blew up another four ships.
     "SIR," the outraged burr came again, "If'n I chanel more power t'
th' shields, we could burn out th' whole POWERUP unit--it cannae take
much more!"
     "Get on it, Radar!"
     "Aye"
     "Sir!  This is important," came Trudy's voice again.
     "WHAT!!!!!"
     "Well, you might not belive this...."
     Satan was sitting on the bridge of the Deathnought Fuk_Ewe.  He
was trying every trick he knew to manipulate the SSR to make the HMS
Golden Lance explode.  But no matter what he did, the tongs of the
egg-beater shaped Spamdriver unit whizzed begignly along.  The Golden Lance
itself was putting up a (pardon the pun) hell of a fight, and close to
seven thousand NKDBFTIV ships had been destroyed.  Also, the Golden
Lance's shields were incredibly resistant, deflecting energies usually more
than enough to level countries with the effort of bouncing a baby off the
bumper of a Ford Pickup truck doing ninty.  Finally, in frustration, he
slammed the SSR onto his command console.
     The artifical plastic Spam splintered, and a nine volt battery fell
out.
     I can't describe the events on board the Fuk_Ewe in a public topic
that children might read.
     Back on the Golden Lance, 357 was shouting into the communicator.
"YOU MEAN MY COMPUTER TURNED MY FAVORITE EGG-BEATER INTO AN SSR REPLICA
WITHOUT TELLING ME??????!!!!!!"
     "Yes sir.  What's more, we have the SSR, Satan stole the replica."
     "VAL!!!!!  WHY DIDN"T YOU TELL ME?????"
     =I did...well, you will remember I told you things weren't as bad
as they seemed?=
     "YEAH????"
     =That's why they weren't.  Only...you yelled at me...and *sniff*
and after all I've done...and....=
     "Oh Needlewarp, it isn't that time of the month again ALREADY?
I thought we had more time...never mind!"  He flipped open the communicator
again.  "Trudy!  Get the SSR down to Radar in Enginneering, have her
convert the thing into something we can use against these things and
beat them once and for all!!!!!"
     The ship rocked again.  "Sir, we can't hold out too much longer!"
     "Blast it, we have to, Steve!  Intern, give us enough time for
Radar to get that SSR working for us for once!"
     "I'll try, but no promises.  The weapons are beginning to overheat
and the shields are weakening!"
     Down in engineering, Radar was desperatly attempting to couple
the SSR to the superABPSAR and ramcharge the SSR into a realityram.
It was tedious work.  She flipped open her communicator.  "357, I'm
going to have to shut off the SSR to make the connections, that'll make
space/time lurch, be ready for it!"
     "Right!"
     She hit the deactivation stud.
     Throughout the entire cosmos, all of the universe and all of reality
was shoved five feet to the left.
     This had the next effect of knocking literaly everyone, with just
five exceptions.
     These five were shooting between dimensions, by an ABPSAR reaction.
They were heading towards a new author's plots, but the explosive reality
reaction had broken them into five seperate trails.  Zark Flyby, G.X.P.
Varneyloop, Ralph, Bubba, and Dr. Von Spleen were all sent to individual
destinies which i don't have time to deal with in this hyperlong entry.
     On board the HMS Golden Lance, Radar was connecting the SSR now,
working fevisishly to get the system to operate without hitch.  "The
Reality Ram is ready," she communicated, "but it'll need fifteen
seconds to power up!"
     "Sir," said Steve, "The deathnought is about to fire its really
big gun!!!!!"
     "Damn--we'll never survive that.  Intern--fire IT, FIRE THE GOLDEN
LANCE!!!!!!!"
     The intern fired the device that he, Radar, and 357 had cobbled
up.  Instantly an incredibly potent beam of utter destrution and cheez
whiz was fired--slicing clean through the deathnought, about three
hundered NKDBFTIV, and several planets, including Earth, where it
wiped out Burlington Vt. utterly, proving once and for all Eric can't
write a major battle without some of New England dying along with it!
     Then, the reality ram fired.
     Satan woke up.  He was in a different dimension, he knew.  He also
knew that he was unable to leave it.  He didn't really remember what
had happened to his ship, crew, and battle, but it was bad.  All he cared
about was what dimension he had been sent to, that it would take years
to escape.
     "Would you like to order sir?"
     Satan turned and looked.  He was standing next to a drive in speaker
for a McDonalds.
     "Would you like to place an order?"
     He whirled again.  There was another...and another--there was nothing
in this dimension.  Nothing but fast food resterants as far as the eye
could see....
     Satan screamed for over three hours.

---------------------------------------------------------------------
Epilogue
---------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HMS Golden Lance flew gallently towards open, clear, tax free
space.  It soared to the stars in exactly the way that Toyotas do not.
     Inside, the Intern, Radar, Trudy, 357, and Steve sat, all sipping
a beer--mostly because, after months of posting and building this
storyline up, it was finally  Millar Time.
     "So what are your plans?" asked the Intern to his old school buddy.
     "Not many...I'm gonna report in to the Time Police, tell them the
SSR has been dismantled, and Satan's finally lost in a big way."
     He smiled.  "Wanna come?  My service has been reactivated, I need a
partner."
     The Intern sadly shook his head.  "I've got other duties.  I have
to get to Camelot Command, get Mark Hyperthrust, return him, write all
this up, and get my Masters.  Then...Radar, Steve, Trudy and I plan
on checking out the old Challenger II--seeing if there's anything
we can salvage from it."
    "Well, good luck to you then--and watch out for Muck-Luck."
     "I will."
     The small group climbed into the TARDIS, and it slowly faded away,
as the Theme music came up, the credits began to roll, and the plotline
ended.

Come on, there are no questions to be asked here!  Just wait for
me to begin writing the next serial of adventures with Radar and the Intern.
In the meantime--read SFSTOY, at least to find out what happens to
Matt, Linda, Natchwald, Quooth, Omegas, and New England!

***** Entry appended 23:28 on Mon, 04/18/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 173 *****