Sfstory Log 017

=========================================================================
Subject:     Terrorism in New England {as if it hasn't suffered enough}
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Orroug, captain of the ETFTWSOTG TerrorShip Oh_No_Not_That, looked at the
computer scans of the continent.
     "This is very strange," he muttered, "We've overslept for so long that
a whole different phila of beings have taken over.  Instead if the giant
cold-blooded lizards, there is a proliferation of warm blooded bipedial mammels
predominent on this planet."
     He muttered a few curses.  "IDIOT!"
     ^Yes, Captain?^
     "Scan this rock, find out what level of technology they've achived!"
     ^Right away, sir.^  Idiot at lizardcom1 began merrily humming as he scanned
and cross correlated until he understaood the Earth even better than the Earth's
population, which really isn't saying very much.
     ^Sir, the planet is at a stage of atomic weaponry, minor Spamology, and
electromagnetic communications.^
     "Perfect," the eight foot tall bipedal lizard snarled.  "They are
sophisticated enough to be scared and primitive enough to be easily frightened.
This is a proper Terrorist's wet dream!!"
     ^Sir, technological anolomy approching off starboard bow.^
     "What?"
     Wilhelm "Ultranatch" Natchwald crused along toward the Oh_No_Not_That
at a cautious Mach four.  He scanned it, and determained it to be appalingly
primitive by galactic standerds, which made it a few decades past Earth
technology.  However, his personal bioniod enhancement was State of The Art
Technology straight from Hell (where if nothing else, they're up to date.)
     "Well," he muttered, simulatinously (yes, I KNOW its misspelled, can't you
just keep reading and not shake your collective heads at me?  I CAN'T TAKE
THE PRESSURE!!!!!) transmitting a signal to Ralph's comlink, which he's
had since his first appearance in SFSTORY, but no one has mentioned yet, "I
might as well blow it out of the sky now, before it takes out more of the
planet.
     Suddenly, a forcebolt cannon fired, knocking Ultranatch off course and
making him crashland in Lowell, Mass, with enough force to do serious damage.
Overreacting, he set off all the weapons at his command to free himself
from the ground and accidentally torched the rest of Lowell.
     In the realms of the Authors, a distinguished gentleman armed with a
sword gleefully smiled and marked Lowell off his list.
     Shooting at Insane speeds back to Martha's Vineyard, Ultranatch landed
next to Ralph.
     "They went that way," said Ralph.  "Hey, do we really have to fight these
geeks, or can't we just retire to Netherspace and check out that new Casino?"
     "Sorry, Ralph, but we have to check this out.  I'm not too heroiclly
minded, but these guys've made me mad--and I don't react well to anger!"  To
prove his point, Ultranatch locked his autodeath-to-all repeater cannons
and blew away the McDonalds they'd just eaten at.
     "Yeah, but you're a Bionoid with incredible power.  I'm just a
weaseloid with Ukulele talents.  I've never really understood why I keep getting
thrown into situations most weaseloids would give their forepaws to swim away
from."
     "Well, if I could explain it to you, I'd be an author.  As it is, we
just have to go with the flow."
     The two took to the air--Ultranatch flying, and Ralph squirming and
kicking with sheer panic as Ultranatch carried him.
     Meanwhile, the Oh_No_Not_That was landing in an area where no being
would ever notice them.  Stepping out, Orroug, his main guard Lieutenent
Snnral, and his main squeeze Yeoman Rarrah stepped down and surveyed their
surroundings.
     It was a college campus, and it was dull.
     Mind bogglingly dull.
     Trust me on this one.
     "Hey!" shouted Orroug to a passerby, who looked up without even noticing
the fact that his accoster was eight feet tall and a green lizard.  "Where
are we?"
     "Orono, Maine." responded the student, with the voice of a man who would
prefer Hell, where at least there was something to do.
     "Perfect," muttered Orroug.  "They'll never suspect us here...and we
can plan the downfall of this species through Terror here unimpeded."
     "You mean...you people have something to do?" asked the student with
hope in his eyes.
     The next second, the student was ash, thanks to the offhanded reflexes
of Snnral.
     "Come on, we must find a library or other place of information," said
Orroug, "so that we can determaine just what we can terrorise this world with!"

WILL THE PEOPLE TERRORISE THE WORLD?
WILL ULTRANATCH BE ABLE TO STOP THEM?
WILL RALPH FIND SOME POWER?
WILL RALPH FIND SOME PURPOSE?
WILL ORROUG BE ABLE TO SURVIVE THE BOREDOM OF ORONO, MAINE?

When tweedle beetles battle, it's called a Tweedle-Beetle-Battle, when they
do it in New England its call SFSTORY CSNOTICE!

***** Entry appended 20:56 on Thu, 04/28/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 195 *****
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Subject:     The Intern, Linda, and Steve on the Challenger II
From:        Eric, lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     "Heh, was wondering how long b'fore somebody got 'round to investigating
this old wreck...." said a raspy voice from the shadows behind the small
group of explorers.
     Steve, Radar, and the Intern whirled, the Intern holding his lightsabre
shaped flashlight towards the voice, Radar holding her Dustbuster-shaped
Star Trek:the Next Generation phaser (only $39.95 from Galoob), and Steve
holding his wallet.
     A hidiously old man and a giant mutant cat stepped out of the shadows.
The man was dressed in robes that were tattered and smelled of Spam, and had the
look of a wild animal who had been forced to drum for the Village People for
two years.  The cat looked like a perfectly ordinary housecat, the tabby
variety, except that it was four feet at the shoulder.  It meowed pleasently
upon seeing Captain Vogel.
     "Lucky!" shouted Steve.  "That's Lucky, the Challenger II's ship's cat!
But...it wasn't that big before the Spam impact!"
     "Poor thing," said the old man, "the Spacewarp had turned him into a bit
of gristle.  I managed to get him back to normal using my TARDIS controls, but
he came out a little...bigger than he should.  Heh heh."
     "TARDIS?"  asked the Intern. Than you're a Time Lord of Gallifrey?  Like
me?"
     "Yup!  Was just crusin' through the ol' Space/Time Vortex, when I hit the
vector all thet Spam caused!  Sucked me right into this here spaceship thingy.
Thet's when I found this here catt, and decided--"
     "You mentioned," said the Intern.  "I am also a Time Lord.  I am called the
Intern.  And yourself?"
     "Lameduck!"
     "Lameduck?" asked Radar, who found this a bit strange.
     "Lameduck.  Thet's my name!  You got a problem with thet?"
     "No..." said Steve, who found all this strange.  "I'm Captain Steve
Vogel, of NASA.  This is my ship, the Challenger II."
     "Your ship, sonny?"
     "Yes."
     Lameduck snorted.  "Don't keep very good care of it, do ye?"
     "Now look here--"
     "Lameduck," interuppted the Intern.  "Where is your TARDIS?"
     "Hm?  Oh, back in engineering.  I've been trying to restore ships
function...to at least get the Galley working.  You know the torture of having
nothing but uncooked Spam to eat?"
     "Lets not talk about it."
     The group walked to engineering, Steve carefully checking all of the
different ships's systems as they went.  They were Spam stained, but otherwise
remarkably undamaged.  His opinion changed as they entered Engineering.
     The Faster-Than-Light drive--pinnicle of American technology although
light years behind the rest of the galexy--was ruined.  Repairs had been
initiated by Lameduck, but to little avail.  The Ion propulsion drive was
at least salvageable, and Radar felt she could get it working with half a
chance.
     Lameduck's TARDIS was here as well, and the Intern was forced to
stare at the metel box.  "What...model...is...this?" he asked, almost
in shock.
     "Why...its a model 4, best one ever built."
     "Model four?  My TARDIS is a bit outdated and its a sixty-nine!  I'm
surprised it even functions!"
     "Well, I'm having a bit of difficulty with the Time Piston."
     "Time Piston?" asked Radar.
     "Yes," said the Intern.  "It was the telechronal drive before the Time
Rotor my TARDIS uses. "
     "Here, come take a look."  Lameduch pointed to a worktable that had a
tube on it.  This tube had lots of wires and system functions and looked
a lot like a standerd piston mated with an IBM XT.
     "Hmmm...well, I can see that the chronon/antichronon chamber is operative,
probably your "problam" was your inability to get out of the Spam.  Perhaps if
we--"
     Just then, in a golden shimmer, a being appeared.  "Thank you," he said,
"for so consideratly empowering me!"  He grabbed the Time Piston and cackled
maniaclly.
     "Empowered you?  Who are you and what do you mean?!" demanded Radar,
who whipped out her dustbuster...I mean phaser...and pointed it at him.
     "I am Apros, and I was a two bit jerk, until you people used an APBSAR
to clear the spam away from this ship.  All that energy was transferred to me!"
     "Was it?" asked Radar, who was putting away her Phaser, realising how
little effect it would have.
     "Put down the Time Piston," said the Intern carefully fitting a module to
his Lightsabre shaped flashlight.
     "No, and you cannot make me," said Apros, doing his best Darth Vader
impression, which wasn't very good.
     "I see," said the Intern, who whipped his Sabrelight up and activated
it--produciing the green energy and circling plasma beams of his
ectocontaiment system--the Ghostbuster them arising in the background.  "You'll
forgive me is I try!" he shouted, showing of his heroic banter.
     Badly burnt by the radiation, Apros screamed and shot great gales of
the golden light, which freed him.  However, it freed him in time to
be tackled by Lucky, who sctatched him.  Lameduck looked around, dazed.
     With a yell, Apros and the Time Piston disappeared.  The Intern
immediatle ran to his own TARDIS.  "Radar, you come with me--I've got
an ion valence tracker I slipped on him while he was wrestling with
Lucky.  Steve, you, Lameduck, and Lucky stay here--try to get the Challenger II
working again!  Lets go!

CAN OUR HEROS GET THE TIME PISTON BACK?
WILL APROS BE MAD ABOUT THE BURNS?
CAN LAMEDUCK AND STEVE GET THE CHALLENGER II OPERATIONAL AGAIN?
CAN LUCKY GET IT OPERATIONAL AGAIN?

Answers?  What answers?

***** Entry appended 22:06 on Thu, 04/28/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 196 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Matt, and Linda make contact
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Muck-Luck was staring at his scanners.  He was really getting sick of this
chase.  Apparently, the HMS Millenium Badger had set down on this world, but
had set Electrocounters up so he couldn't find the Hypercrusier.  Well then,
Linda's Deus Ex Machina or not, he was mad enough to try something desperate.
     He logged into his superaccount Annihilator at Destructionvax5 and perepared
to destroy the entire planet.
     We are sorry, this account has been temporarily quiesed
     "Quiesed?  Needlewarp!  Has that damn account been acting
without ordrders again?  I swear, I've got to get a different
destructive account!  Oh well, until its repaired, I have to do
this the old fashioned way."
     Muck-Luck flipped his sensor array up and started studying
the planet.  He'd find them...if it took the next thirty
entries, he'd find them!  And he couldn't wait!!!!"
     Meanwhile, on the planet surface, plucky Linda Madisen and
her handsome yet moderatly useful partner Matt were striding
along in their smartly pressed white cotton jumpsuits and their
small yet compact personal weapons systems.
     "Linda," said Matt in his incorrigably perky way, "I think
our narrator's got a few problems today."
     Linda looked back, her eyes and hair nicely complimenting
her divinely made clothing as she said in a sweet voice "Really,
well, we'll take care of that!"  With that, she whipped out her
cute personal Nuker and fired several shots at the narrator ah
ow!!!!  OOWWWOOWWWAHHHHHHHIIIIIIRRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
     Sorry....
     Matt and Linda walked over a small rise.  Ahead of them was
a small village of natives, and there was a sign which read
"(*&*#$%)(YPIWUHFPIURHGFPISAUHFQWIPRUEGHQERUGHEKJGRHWEKJGHEKGJERK
:RFDFLKJG:LDSKFJG:LSDKFG:LDKFGJEIUYOIWUEP*%$^JEORJ:SADFH#UH^*(TLW
EORIUWEPORIU^_)$*%^GREW"A}ERGI!(*)$^)**&%*UWA*GIUJ%*IU$#PW($*%^W
_#**$&_*RUOIDFGU*#)(*$T)(Q*$U!PQOGFKJ"HGPIJWEFOI$W(R**_|$(*%&(*ERRUTYPGO
#_$*TQORWIEFUPQORWIGPOIGWEPGOUEWRGIPUHWERGIUWEHGPEWURHGPWEG"
     Or something like that, anyway.
     Matt shrugged.  "Question: what does this sign say?"
     *****Not now, Man!!!  MAN O MAN NOT NOW!!!!!!*****
     "What?"
     *****Just give me a COUPLE OF OH YES BABY!!!!!!*****
     "Superbrain?"
     Somehow, the computer account managed to sound breathless.
*****Okay...now then....um...what did you ask me?*****
     "Question: what does this sign say--in English
translation?"
     *****It says: 'This is a village of the Slybeetles, it is
of moderate size, it is sort of an uninteresting brown, and it
smells in the winter.'*****
     "Oh.  Okay.  As you were."
     *****No prob--and Vall says hi.*****
     "Val?" but Superbrain didn't answer.
     "Well, lets go check it out."  The two walked into the
village.  Lots of seven inch beetles were wandering around in
peace and harmony.  "Hello there." said one bettle to the two of
them.  "You're very tall," said another to the two of them.
"Hey, didn't I see you on a small pile of mud where our invasion
fleet was turned back by a bright blue light," said a third to
the two of them.  "Do you like the weather," said a fourth to
the two of them.
     "Wait," said Matt, "what do you mean--that invasion was by
the NKDBFTIV!"
     "Yes, the Nasty Killer DeathBeetles from Tampon IV--that's
us!  I was the Captain of the ship who lead the assault."
     "But...I thought you were called Slybeetles," said Matt who
was quite confused.
     "We were, but our name got changed to Nasty Killer
DeathBeetles...so on and so forth."
     "Well...you don't seem that nasty to me." said Linda.
     The slybeelte sighed.  "That's rather the problem.  Here we
had this really neat name....but we were too darn cute and nice
for anyone to believe it.  So, we started to attack people and
cultivate a really seriously nasty reputation."
     "But that doesn't make sense...did it make you happy?"
     "Not very," confessed the NKDBFTIV, "we were a lot happier
as pod sucking Slybeetles, but there you are, hey?"
     "I suppose.  What's your name," asked Linda, warming to the
cute little mass murdering military commander.
     There was a pause.  "You don't really want to know," he
said.
     "Yes we do!"
     The NKDBFTIV sighed.  "All right."  He took a deep breath
and said,
"Yyyehehehehehehehehehehehehhehehehrhehrhehrrhrhrehrhehehrhehe"
     "What?"
     "You don't want me to repeat it.  You can call me YYY."
     "Okay, YYY."

WILL THEY CALL HIM YYY?
IF NOT, WHAT WILL THEY CALL HIM?
WILL MUCK-LUCK FIND THE MILLENIUM BADGER?
*IS* VAL PREGNENT?
IF SO, HOW?
WILL THE COWBOY YELL AT ME FOR HAVING VAL AND SUPERBRAIN
     INTERFACE UNTIL CORE DUMP?

All these questions, many more questions....questions
everywhere...all these stupid questions...questions QUESTIONS
QUESTIONS AND THEY ALL HAVE TO DO WITH SFSTORY CSNOTICE NOT MORE
QUESTIONS AAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***** Entry appended 23:55 on Thu, 04/28/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 197 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein The Intern and Radar get out of sorts
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     The Intern and Linda were following the Ion Valance trail through the
ether of the Time Vortex.  The ion trail was caused by an ion tracker on
Apros which the Intern had slipped on Apros during a scuffle on the Challenger
II.  Radar and the Intern were trying to get the Time Piston, an archaic
Gallifreyian temporal drive, from Apros, whom I have mentioned several times.
Apros was very powerful because Radar empowered him with Spam.
     The above sentences are in very basic English--for extra points: combine
as many of these sentences as possible into compound and complex sentence
structures, and turn it in to your English teacher.
     "Radar, he's beginning to slow down.  We'll have to swoop in and capture
the Time Piston before he gets a chance to recover from his radiation burns!"
     "What?" said Radar, who was busy combining the sentences given above
into complext and compund forms etc. etc. etc.
     "Naver mind, just go back to the arsenal and break out...the Unnecessary
Force Weapons."
     Radar swallowed hard.  This was more serious than she had thought.
     Meanwhile, Steve and Lameduck, with occasional Mieows from Lucky, were
busy trying to get the Challenger II into a workable mode.
     "Well, what's this thing armed with, sonny?"
     "Photon/Plasma torpedos!"
     "*Snort*--I knew you human were primitive, but not that primitive!"
     "Look, this ship--OW!" as Steve cut himself on a jagged piece of the
Faster-Than-Light drive "--is the result of a culmanation of many years of
hard scientific reaserch!"
     "Its also REAL old fashioned!"
     "Oh, shut up and hand me the Hypertechnical Ballpeen Hammer!"
     "Hey...you know...there are actually the beginnings of a good idea in
this Faster-Than-Light drive...it isn't built like most F-T-L drives!"
     For those who do not know, the F-T-L drive works on the principle of
channeled matter/antimatter behind the ship, distorting RealSpace just enough
enable the ship to accelerate to faster than the speed of light while being
still in RealSpace.  After this elementary drive usually the culture develops
the Hyperdrive, which focuses Tachyons into a field, channeling the ship into
HyperSpace, or Warp Drive, which intermixes Matter and Antimatter in a
dilithium chamber, and literally warps space, channeling this warp into
engine nacelles like on the USS Enterprise--propelling the Starship into
Warp Space.  This is ignoring TARDISes, which bypass space altogether and in
somewhat of a huff propel the ship into the Time Vortex, and ABPSAR-powered
ships, which force the starship into a space/netherspace warp caused by
the peculiar and unappitizing aspects of Spam.  However, the unique
F-T-L drive of the Challenger II didn't just push matter/antimatter reactions
behind the ship, but instead fired it back to a Duriliam plate, which splits
the channeled beam and reflects it to two large indestrucamirrors, which
channel the Energies back away from ther ship.  This doesn't increase the
ships speed or manuverablility, but does make the exhaust energy a lovely
shade of chartruse.
     "Yeeeeeesssss..." Lameduck said, paying close attention to the set-up.
"We can work with this material...let me see the reactor breeder of your
photon/plasma torp launcher...."
     Pause.
     "NOW, sonny, I ain't gettin' any younger, y'know!"
     "Right!  Right...er...this way...."
     Back in the humble abode (read: shameless dump) of Apros, the ex
two-bit thief-cum-High powered supervillain, Apros was studying the
configuration of the Time Piston.  "Yes," he said, in the way most villains
do when they're sitting all by themselves in their rooms talking to themselves
and detailing their plans to a non-existant audience.  "With this information,
and by following these plans, I'll soon unlock the key to the power of total
Temporal control!  Then, I'll be able to travel back to the very beginning
of the Big Bang and alter it!  Soon, all of time and space will be made
completly out of Cool Whip and Cherry Coke based molecular structures."  Like
many good villains whose biggest role in life is to act as plot devices,
Apros was completly and totally bent as an individual mind.
     So engrossed was he in his engrossing and just plain gross plan, and in
using his Spamical powers to decypher the secrets of time from the Time
Piston, that he didn't even notice the Brador Malt Liqour Keg appear next to
him in the dingy little apartment.  So high was his concentration that he didn't
realise the kep was opening and two people were stepping out.  So completly
in tune with his special project was he that he didn't foresee the Sonic Crowbar
being activated and operated until it abused the very back of the villains head.
Even after this abuse, it was a good thirty seconds before the somewhat
inadaquete brain of Apros realised its eyes were staring close up to the ground
and not on the Time Piston.
     Radar and the Intern reappeared in the Challenger II, and ran out, holding
the Time Piston, which they gave to Lameduck.  "We have to go," said the
Intern, "we must escape in the TARDIS before Apros comes for us!"
     Immediatly outside the Challenger II, Apros appeared.  He looked in with
his power, and smiled.  Using his still limited powers of Time/space, he
dispersed Radar and the Intern's molecules across time and space, laughing.
     He stopped laughing a moment later, as his Spam based powers wore
off and he exploded in the rather humorless vacumn.
     "Oh no!  My sister!" shouted Steve.
     "Don't worry about her now," said Lameduck.
     "What?"
     "Trust me, sonny, we can reintergate them with the Time Piston--if we can
track the Space/Time components of their minds!"
     Lameduck stopped and considered.  "Of course, there's no way to track them.
     "Yes there is," said Steve, excited, "All we need is an Omniscient Paladin!
     "Oh great, do you know any?"
     Steve only smiled.

IS APROS DEAD?
WILL STEVE BE ABLE TO FIND MATT?
ARE LINDA AND THE INTERN GONE?
SHOULD ANOTHER AUTHOR ADOPT THEM?
(NOT IF THEY KNOW WHAT"S GOOD FOR THEM :-)

SFSTORY answers, yeah!

***** Entry appended 22:51 on Fri, 04/29/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 199 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein there is some character development
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at bostonu)

     The Rocket Racer V, after hurtling through space for what seemed
an awfully long time, arrived on the outskirts of the solar system
to avoid hitting a stray asteroid and to give the author time to do
a little bit of character development on Toni whom he won in a recent
poker game with another author.
     "Why did we come out of hyperspace so far from earth?" asked Toni
to start the conversation as she was the only one, other than Buzz of
course, whoknew which of the planets earth was and Buzz knew why, thus
having him start the conversation would be silly.
     "There are too many random particles in the Sol 1 solar system," he
responded, "In between the naturally occuring space stuff and the rubbish
from all the SFSTORY and pulp space battles make it difficult to make
the jump in safely."
     "Oooohhhh," she said, almost sounding as impressed as Bert usually is.
     "I have a question," asked the enlightened cute and furry mauve
creature named Tachi, "Aren't we too late to save Syracuse and Miss Zobkiw?
We've been in hyperspace for a longer time than I would care to remember."
     "It's alright," responded Buzz, who had switched over to the Star
Drive for inter-system travel, "One of the unique applications of hyperspace
is that, if you work it right, you can do some limited time travel. It
is very difficult and extremely dangerous."
     "Wow!" said Bert (of course), "and you can do that???!!!"
     "Well, in emergencies, yes. This time we had some help."
     "From Go..., from the L-l-l-l..., oh, oh, shoot! Why can't I say His
name?" asked Toni as she began to whimper.
     "Because you are a Succubus," answered Tachi, "And the help we
received was from an author."
     "Yes," chirped in Buzz, "Without such help, I'd be lothed to try it."
Thus indicating that it is unlikely that the author will attempt this
application of all-space-and-time-is-coterminous anytime again in the
near future.
     "Tell me something," asked Bert, "What was that rumbling we felt at
Camelot Command?"
     "The addition of a new author," responded Buzz as he pointed out the
rings of Neptune.
     "Tell me something Space Commander," asked Toni as she snuglled
into her seat in a fashion that caught Buzz's attention, distracted Tachi,
and nearly killed Bert, "Where are the droids?"
     "Droids?" asked Buzz as he focused his attention on the planets ahead
and reminded himself that he could easily be her grandfather.
     Tachi began to meditate intently so as to maintain enlightenment.
     Bert went to the rear of the ship to change into a new jumpsuit as he
creamed the pants of the suit he was wearing.
     "Yes," she said, "Droids. Like that cute little R2D2 and C3P0."
     "Oh. You mean robots. We don't have any."
     "Why not?" she said in a disapointed voice that made Buzz wish he
had some.
     "The robots of my era are somewhat large and slow. They are much
more dependable, though. They are built along the lines of a Sherman Tank."
     "Well, where would you hide your lightsabre if you were captured by
a intergalactic mobster?"
     "Lightsabre?"
     "Yea. You know. It hums and you cut through things with it."
     "I'm afraid I use a normal hyper-bonded steel longsword. I've heard
of lightsabres, but I haven't seen one. The only blade I've seen hum
is a vibro-broadsword. That's the weapon of choice of the Quantunuk Gladiators
in the Death Rings of Starhub City in the Rann-Kath Empire."
     "Are they like Cylons?"
     Buzz was getting a little disapointed. "Much worse. They are 8' tall
and 275 lbs of muscle at their smallest."
     "Oh," said Toni.
     "Hang on everyone," said Buzz, "and get ready to enter the Earth atmosphere
Activating radar and IR/UV jamming systems. Prepare for descent."
     The Rocket Racer V descended rapidly into the Earth's atmosphere. Buzz
piloted the ship with care as he approached Upstate New York.
     "I'm worried," murmered Buzz to himself.
     "Why?" asked Bert as he re-entered the cabin.
     "This is too easy. No author would make it this easy on the characters."
     "Well," said Toni who stretched in a way that sent Bert back to the
closets, "Maybe he's being merciful. After all, we're doing a favor for him."
     "My question is why does he want her rescued? What makes her so
special?" asked Tachi who felt it safe to open his eyes again.
     "That,s what worries me," said Buzz. "Something just doesn't fit
here."
     On a much higher plane of existance, God looked down while not
letting the Holy Erasers out of his sight and smiled, enjoying the
irony that escaped the characters that only He or Satan (but not Omegas)
could know.
     On an even higher plane, Patrick McCoy (that's me) and Eric, Lord Sabre
looked down on the universe.
     ++Should we tell them?++ I asked.
     |-}------------Naw, let them squirm about it.
     ++Yea, there are some secrets to the universe that are better left
unsaid or things will get REAL confusing.++
     Back over Upstate New York, Buzz started as a red light began to flash
on the control console.
     "I knew it!" he said.  "Things couldn't be that easy!"
     "What is it?" asked Bert, returning from the closet.
     "Some highly powerful beings are in the Syracuse area."

WHAT BEINGS ARE IN SYRACUSE???
WHY WOULD THEY BOTHER WITH SYRACUSE???
WHAT IS THE MIND_WRENCHING SECRET THAT ONLY SABRE AND I KNOW???
WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH THE STORY???

For the answers to these and other equally silly questions, E-mail
me and give suggestions...even though I know the answers. Anyway,
stay tuned...

***** Entry appended 12:50 on Mon, 05/02/88 by enldc8c at bostonu   # 200 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     First Time Out...
From:        Black Scorpion (MGRAVES at SBCCVM)

                   Space Explorers Volume One
......................................................................
    '38! 38! Get me more power! We're losing shields!'

    Lieutenent Commander of the Space Explorers Ltd. was not pleased
with the present situation at all, and his android co-pilot, model
LGH.38MPH0 was taking the blame for everything, as usual.

    'Excuse me, sir, but I am doing my best...'
    'That doesn't comfort me, you two-tone tin can!'
    'I do believe you have had too much coffee, sir...'
    'Shut up and get me more power to the shields!'
    'As you wish...'

    Instantly, 38 powered up the shields of the CMS Contingency, and
Lieutenent Commander exhaled mass quantities of air in relief.
    The Contingency, you see, was under attack by the evil space pir-
ates of SCUM, or Space Criminals Union Management... nowadays every-
one had union representation.
    The Contingency was on its first five year mission to boldly go
where no one had dared to go before (or were rather too dumb, too
scared, or too sane to go), so our conveniently placed Lieutenent and
android sidekick "volunteered" for the job.
    '38! There are two more coming in at .47! Do something, you syn-
thetic grease wod!'
    'Really sir... your intensity bothers me...'
    'Too bad! Move your *ss!'
    'To where sir? I am quite unable to disassemble myself. You are in
such a case not making sense...'
    'Why you... I oughta... if I.... just you... OOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!'
    'Hmmm... irregular speech patterns, high levels of frustration, a
high blood pressure, and elevated levels of caffeine in his matrix...
I will have to investigate this further...'
    '38! Where the hell are you?'
    'Coming, sir. What do you wish done?'
    'Go up to the cockpit and tell 929 to punch in the plasma drive!'
    'That sounds like a reasonable decision...'
    'Thank you... I am glad I have your APPROVAL!'

    38 walked calmly up to the cockpit of th Contingency, where 929
ALPHA, the on-board computer, was busy beeping and flashing.

    'Good morning, 929...'
    'Oh... hello 38. What can I do for you?'
    'The Lieutenent would like plasma drive, if you will...'
    'Where would he like it? Haha.'
    'I am not aware that he would like it anywhere, but I am making an
educated guess that he would prefer the whole ship in a different time
zone.'
    'Okay... where should we go?'
    'That is up to you. I am unprepared concerning the data on our next
whereabouts.'
    'Okay... random target.'
    'That will be fine.'
    '38! Whaere's the plasma warp? I don't see streaking lights and I
don't here sonic booms! Are the FX people on strike or something?'
    'No... SCUM is on strike.'
    'Not again! No wonder they're chasing us! I hate whaen they get PO'd
and I hate when they pick on us!'
    'That is apparent. 929 is randomly picking a target for plasma
drive, so we should be underway in a brief period.'
    'Whoopie. For now, get to the turrets.'
    'Yes sir.'

    38 and Lieutenent Commander mounted their gun turrets and prepared
to fire (that's sick). There were only 2 SCUM ships coming in, and be-
fore Lieutenent Commander knew it, 38 had disposed of them, read Act 2
of Hamlet, cleaned the lavatory unit, and taken the controls of the ship
for plasma drive.

    'Sir... I suggest you take a seat... we are about to enter time warp
and I do not wish to see you plastered to the wall again...'
    'Thanks for the advice, metal mouth.'
    'Warp in 5... 4... 3... sir I suggest you strap in quickly... 2...
 1... Time Warp now, 929.'
    'Yes sir, 38.'

    With a flash and a kaboom, the CMS Contingency took off in one dir-
ection and Lieutenent Commander of the Space Explorers Ltd. did not. As
a result, said Lieutenant became a part of the cabin wall, something
akin to a painting in a modern art gallery...

    'I told you to strap in sir...'
    'Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!'
    'Overdone if I do say so myself, sir. The writers definitely need a
lot more practice with this.'

    The great thing about being a writer is that you can do things to
the characters when they get snotty...
    The buckle of 38's seatbalt came undone, and he went flying across
the cabin to join Lieutenent Commander as part of the new cabin mural...
I love power...

    'Oh 38...'
    'Yes, Lieutenent...'
    'TURN OFF THE F*CKING PLASMA DRIVE!!!!!'
    'Yes sir. Reverse thrust in 5... 4... 3... hold on to your hats,
readers... these two are going flying... 2... 1... reverse thrust.'

    A sound akin to a '77 pinto shifting gears and going into reverse
spin at the same time as a 747 going overhead echoed through the cabin,
and the Lieutenent and 38 continued forward on their plasma trip as the
Contingency stopped. It was not a pretty sight, especially from the
Lieutenant's and 38's point of view...

    '38?'
    'Yes sir?'
    'Remind me to forget 929's weekly inspection.'
    'Yes sir.'

    As soon as 38 and the Lieutenent scraped themselves off the inside
of the windshield, they proceeded to their seats to find out where they
were.
    'Full scan, 38.'
    'Yes sir. We are in sector 4756345648658476549576529-032492345432.'
    'Holy...'
    'Agreed... we are in deep... how would you say it?'
    'Sh*t, 38.'
    'Yes sir... deep sh*t.'
    'Alright... check the fuel reserves.'
    '38%... hee hee. We are not in terrific shape. We took some carbon
scoring in the battle.'
    'Great! Can you do anything, 929?'
    'I suggest we land.'
    'Reasonable. Find a nice spot.'
    'Planet 4 in the local system. Class M planet, sufficient oxygen and
nitrogen atmosphere, 56% water, mountainous, conifers prevail as domin-
ant vegetation, primitive animal life... mammals and birds, no reptilian
forms. No apparent intelligent life.'
    'Sounds like California.'
    'California, sir?'
    'A similar place on Terra 3... it had about the same collective
statistics as this planet.'
    'I see...'
    'Okay, 929. Put us down there. We can let the fuel packs recharge
and maybe we can do some exploring.'
    'Does this mean we are on duty, sir?'
    'Officially, 38... yes.'
    'I see... then we are going forward with this?'
    'Yup.'
    'Fine. I do hope the writer can keep this interesting. I would hate
to think we were going to carry on hackneyed conversations with no sub-
stance that have no bearing on the present situation.'
    'Me neither.'
    'And I do hope he gives us significant opportunities for lengthy di-
alogue. This is very important to our development as characters. If we
are lacking in dialogue, the readers will never discover our full char-
acteristics...'
    'Yup...'
    'And furthermore, I hope that, just because I am an android, the
writer does not make me a boring numskull who just rambles on and on
about everything and nothing. That would tend to put one to sleep. In my
case, it is fine, since I do not require sleep, but the readers are all
colleger students, and they are quite intelligent for degenerate party
head bangers... keeping their attention will be difficult at best...'
    'ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...'
    'Good night, sir. Systems off, 929.'
    'ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...'
    'Goodness me...'

    The Contingency set down on the planet for what was sure to be a
lengthy hiatus...

........................................................................

Will the dialogue be boring and hackneyed? (I will try my best to assure
that it isn't)
Will Lieutenant Commander wake up?
Will Lieutenent drink decaffeinated coffee?
What will happen if Lieutenent Commander gets a promotion to Lieutenent
Commander? Can we really deal with someone named Lieutenant Commander
Commander?
Is anybody interested in hearing more (email me directly... MGRAVES AT
SBCCVM)

All, some, none, or less than zero of these questions will be answered.

***** Entry appended 13:30 on Mon, 05/02/88 by MGRAVES at SBCCVM    # 201 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     An exciting development
From:        The Cowboy (THC8650 at TNTECH)

Time Agent 357 pounded at the controls, trying to regain contact with Doctor
Bing Von Spleen.  He was just about to give up when the communicator gave a
cheerful bleep.

"Bleep," said the communicator cheerfully.

"Did you receive my last transmission?" asked the Doctor.

"No, say again," ordered 357.

"This derelict ship was powered by an old ABPSAR Mark I.  It's been
completely stripped of Spam.  All life aboard has was removed.  Also, there
are some disgusting stains on the outer hull."

"Hmmmmm," hummed 357.  "Val, please scan the outside of that ship."

=Scan it yourself,= came the reply in an irritating, nasal tone.

"Huh?"

=Oh, and Superbrain says hello.=

"Superbrain?"

=And he didn't even take his shoes off.=

"Never mind.  I'll do it myself," decided the unretired Time Agent.  He
directed the ship's powerful scanners at the derelict floating nearby and
asked for a report.  The results were not comforting.

"Doctor," he reported.  "I detect the presence of large quantities of
vegetable matter sticking to the outer hull."

"Great," responded the Doctor.  "Tell me, 357.  Have you ever heard of the
Giant Space Turnip?"

"Nope, I've been outside the local reality for a number of years.  Bedlam
Central is a pretty fair distance from any good news source."

"Well, the GST has been mentioned in a few entries.  It's very big and likes
to eat planets.  Judging from the lack of Spam on this ship, I'll bet it
gets its power from Spam.  Your ship is also powered by Spam so I think we
should get the hell out of here."  The Doctor was thankful that the design
of the spacesuit made it physically impossible for him to wet his pants.

=Proximity Alert!!!  Proximity Alert!!!= shouted Val at the top of her
electronic lungs.

"357!" shouted Spleen at the top of his biological lungs.  "Get me the-" he
began on the derelict.

"-out of here!" he finished from the Temporal Transporter Terminal platform.

"Val, activate shields and weapons," barked 357.

=Ask nicely,= responded the VAL9000 computer.

"Val, please activate the shields and weapons before that thing eats us for
lunch."

=If you insist,= said Val, bringing the ship's entire offensive and
defensive arsenal online.

"You're not going to fight that thing, are you?" asked the Doctor, gazing
longingly at the handfull of pink pills he was holding.

"Why not?" asked 357.

=The approaching object is several million times our size.=

"Good answer.  Give me a full sensor scan or that thing."

=Working....  Mass:  A few billion tons.  Density:  8.13 grams per cubic
centimeter.  Constituents:  Turnip, Turnip, and Turnip.=

"Does it contain any Spam at all?"

=You expect me to detect a plateful of Spam on an object composed of a few
billion tons of turnip?=

"I guess not.  Activate the Golden Lance in defensive mode," said 357,
referring to the screen of nearly impervious energy that the superweapon
could produce, as opposed to the highly destructive beam of energy and cheez
whiz it normally produced.

No sooner than the screen was up than was the ship rocked by the collision
of several large objects.  Doctor Spleen removed himself from the floor in
time to see the next group strike the defensive shield.  "It's shooting huge
chunks of turnip at us!" he shouted, looking around for something to was
down his pills with.

"I'm tired off this," mumbled 357, activating the DIESCUM cannons.  He fired
a prolonged salvo at the approaching form.  It did not, of course, strike
the GST but instead disappeared when it hit the GLS (Golden Lance Shield).
This, of course, made 357 a tad peeved.

"Val, drop the GLS.  It makes all our weapons ineffective."

=I wouldn't do that if I were you.=

"And why not?"

=Because the instant you do, those giant chunks of turnip will pulverize
this ship.=

"Let me see if I've got this straight.  With the GLS up it can't hurt us,
and we can't hurt it.  With the GLS down, it will destroy us before we can
get off a shot."

=You got it, big boy.=

"Alrighty, I've got an idea.  Pilot this ship right into that thing.  With
our GSL, we'll cut right through it.  After a few passes there'll be nothing
left of that thing but a bloody carcass."

*Turnips can't give blood.  Only people can.*

"Who said that?" asked 357.

=I don't know,= answered Val.

*This message brought to you by the Interstellar Heart Foundation.*

In the meantime, the Giant Space Turnip, seeing that it's attack was in
vain, had turned tail and run.  357 noted this and set off in pursuit.  He
also noticed that the GST was travelling through netherspace, proving the
Doctor correct in his theory that it got its power from Spam.  It also
proved that the author occasionally thinks ahead in these postings.

Will 357 be able to destroy the GST before it strikes again?
If so, how?
If how, when?
If tea leaves, so can I.

***** Entry appended 13:36 on Mon, 05/02/88 by THC8650 at TNTECH    # 202 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Searching the caves...
From:        Black Scorpion (MGRAVES at SBCCVM)

    Lieutenent Commander planted the CMS Contingency right smack plop
on the biggest field on the whole damn planet, and boy was that field
big... damn big...
    However, the Lieutenent was unconcerned with this minor detail, as
he was more concerned with getting the power restored so as to get out
of this big field...

    'Tell me, 38... what in God's name is this stuff? Looks like 20
foot tall wheat...'
    'Are you sure you should use God's name in such a tone?'
    'Yeah... it's o.k. Word has it He's a softie for publicity.'
    'Very well, sir. The vegetation you see before you is indeed a var-
iety of wheat, merely emlarged by high lavels of radioactivity...'
    'Radioa... Radioa... Radioa...'
    '...ctivity... ctivity... ctivity, sir.'
    'Shut up you 40 gallon oil spill... '
    'Yes sir. Shall we begin our search for the crystals?'
    'What the hell are you talking about? This isn't Star Trek! We need
middle light range large molecule kerotinoid pigments!'
    'Sir... I am versed in many forms of scientific knowledge, but I do
not recognise the term MIDDLE LIGHT RANGE LARGE MOLECULE KEROTINOID
PIGMENTS...'
    'CHLOROPHYLL, YOU IDIOT!'
    'Oh... then perhaps we can solve three problems at once.'
    'Huh?'
    'Wheat contains chlorophyll. We can distill the wheat, use the pig-
ment, and also solve another problem.'
    'Like what?'
    'Sir... as you may be aware, the giant space turnip is on the loose
and it is feeding on the Spam deposits everywhere.'
    'So I've heard.'
    'Well... turnips contain chlorophyll...'
    'Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii like it-uh!'
    'I knew you would sir.'

    So after several hours of distilling and processing, 38 was able to
mold the wheat into a viable form to be used in the plasma drives.

    'Bread? You made bread?'
    'Explosive bread, sir. It will, when put in the proper critical
mass, cause a chain reaction, fueling the ship. It will also make a neat
weapon to use against any hostile forces...'
    'Nuclear bread... I like it?'

    Little do our heroes know that an agent from SCUM (Space Criminals
Union Management) is watching from afar.

    'Haha! We will steal the nuclear bread and destroy the universe!'
    'But sir... won't that make space travel a bit difficult?'
    'Good point... we'll just nuke New Jersey.'
    'Very good, sir.'

    Meanwhile, back at the Contingency.

    'This stuff is powerful stuff, 38. We must be prepared for any con-
tingency... huh? Right.'
    'Yes sir. I have fixed it so only a specific mass will explode. Any
less or any more and no show.'
    'Very good, 38. Let's go. We may be able to be of assistance to the
Time Agents and the whole galaxy in the fight against the giant space
turnip.'
    'Right, sir.'
    'Wait... I detect something amiss...'
    'There are 2 unidentified life forms approaching from 207 degrees,
sir.'
    'SCUM?'
    'I do believe so, sir.'
    'Sh*t!'
    'No... definitely scum.'
    'Never mind... get the nuclear bread aboard the Contingency. We're
getting out of here.'
    'Yes sir.'

    Using his superhuman speed and agility, 38 placed all the nuclear
bread aboard the Contingency.

    'Prepare for lift off, 929.'
    'Where to, LC?'
    'Just lose the SCUM ship!'
    'Roger!'

    With a flash/bang/zoom/whoosh the Contingency was off the surface of
the planet, the forces of SCUM following close behind.

    'More speed, 929.'
    'I'm trying... this sh*t that 38 put in me doesn't want to kick in,
so I have no plasma drive.'
    'Critical mass, 38.'
    'Yes sir.'
    'Okay 929... hit it!'

    The critical mass did it all right. Except this time 38 and the
Lieutenent were strapped in!

    'Hooooooooooooleeeeeeeeeeee shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!'
    'YOU SAID IT, 38!'

    The Contingency zoomed off so fast that the special effects kicked
in AFTER they were gone.

    'Good job 38... and you too 929.'
    'Thank you sir.'
    'Thanks LC.'
    'Now where are we?'
    'The same place we started out from.'
    'Good. Any sign of ships in the sector?'
    'Nope.'
    'How about the giant space turnip?'
    'Nope.'
    'Well dammit, we're o.k. then! It's time for a 5 minute break.'
    'We do not sleep, sir.'
    'Details... details... I'm goin' to sleep.'

    He did just that... went to sleep.

......................................................................

Will SCUM get the nuclear bread?
Will the nuclear bread effectively bake the giant space turnip?
Why don't androids sleep?
Why do people sleep?
Why are CSN files only allowed to be a certain length to get through to
    CSNEWS?
Why am I asking all these questions?
What happened to the caves?

Stay tuned... I may answer the questions, or I may just order a pizza.

***** Entry appended 14:52 on Mon, 05/02/88 by MGRAVES at SBCCVM    # 203 *****
=========================================================================
From:        Black Scorpion (MGRAVES at SBCCVM)

    Lieutenant Commander awoke from his brief nap due to hunger pains
and he picked up the vid screen microphone...

    'LC on the Contingency here... I'd like a large pizza with mush-
rooms and extra cheese please.'
    'We'll have it right over.'

    Knock... Knock...

    'That was fast!'
    'Yeah... but delivering in these space suits is a real pain.'
    'I can imagine!'
    '$7.04 please.'
    'Here's $10... keep the change.'
    'Thanks!'

    Lieutenent Commander was feeling very generous indeed.

    'Anybody want some pizza?'
    'As you have pointed out sir... I am only an android. Therefore, I
do not eat.'
    'Suit yourself... that's more for me.'

    Lieutenant Commander gorged himself on the pizza, while in the mean-
time, the forces of SCUM had caught up with our heroes...

    'I have them in sights sir...'
    'Good. Prepare to tractor beam them.'

    Meanwhile, back on the Contingency...

    'Intruder! Intruder! Intruder in sector!'
    'Dammit, 929... what's going on?'
    'SCUM cruiser closing fast...'
    'Sh*t! Prepare to engage plasma drives...'
    'Yes sir.'
    '38... up to the cockpit... I'm manning the guns!'
    'May the forces of purity and sanity help us...'

    Lieutenant Commander was notorious for being more than a little
schizoid with a gun in his hand...

    'Okay... take that, SCUM!'

    Lieutenant Commander fired one shot to the bow of the SCUM cruiser,
and the entire cruiser went reeling on it's side. The Lieutenant was
not finished, however, and he continued firing...

    'Sir... this is 929... if you keep firing in such a reckless man-
ner, you will deplete the excess energy in the plasma drives, and then
we will not be able to get away.'
    'Aw... stuff it up your negative feedback drive...'
    'I'm sorry to do this, LC... I'm cutting power to the turrets...'
    'Why you... I... if... ERG*$%!'
    'Funny... I have not heard him curse like that since they cancelled
St. Elsewhere.'
    'Never mind, 38... I am getting us out of here.'
    'Very well... helm at your control.'
    'Thank you. Go strap yourselves in please.'
    'Affirmative.'

    LC and 38 strapped themselves in to their seats and 929 took over
control of the plasma drives.

    'We will be warping out in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... NOW.'

    Bang... Zoom...

    'New destination, LC?'
    'Yeah... nearest base... we need to refine this nuclear bread...'
    'Destination set... Base Number 65746737089767956795768703857677847-
456387456546357873689705687536987673069876349576567469780349347667.'
    'Man... we sure do have a lot of bases!'
    'No sir... the numbering is akin to M*A*S*H naming its units 4077
and 8063 when there are only about 5 units...'
    'Oh... how many bases do we have?'
    '2 at present, and I don't think you want the name of the other
base... besides... we don't have that much space in the data banks.'
    'I'll take your word on it.'
    'I new you would.'
    'I know you knew I would.'
    'I know.'
    'Invariably.'
    'Sir... I am detecting activity regarding the giant space turnip.'
    'Oh?'
    'Yes... one of the Time Agents, if my nomenclature is correct, is
trying to subdue or get away from the thing.'
    'Radio and see if they need help...'
    'Aye sir...'

    'CMS CONTINGENCY TO TIME AGENT... DO YOU NEED HELP WITH THE SPACE
TURNIP? REPEAT... DO YOU REQUIRE ASSISTANCE?'

    'No answer sir.'
    'This looks damn peculiar... no chance taking. Head for the nearest
base, 929. If the Time Agent needs us, he will contact us.'
    'Okee dokee, LC.'
    'Shut up , you overgrown Apple Computer.'

    929 is quiet, as if she has been dealt a serious blow by her Cap-
tain...

    'That was low, LC.'
    'SHut up, 929... I'm thinking.'
    'Look out!'
    'Can you say disconnected? I bet you can...'
    'Forgive me, oh great and powerful leader...'
    'Yeesh...'

    Meanwhile, back at the SCUM cruiser...

    'This is all your fault!'
    'Mine? You wanted the damn bread!'
    'Quiet, you insignificant wod...'

    Meanwhile, back at the Contingency...

    'Systems report, 929...'
    'All systems normal. We are approaching the base... we are at the
base... we have passed the base sir...'
    'REVERSE GEARS!!!!!'

    A sound akin to an elephant in heat riding on top of a Lear Jet that
is taxiing down a runway in Newark Airport during the 5:30 rush hour on
a clear day with 37% humidity followed as 929 put the ship in full re-
verse.
    38 and LC were, however, used to the new seatbelt law, and thus were
saved of any injuries.

    'We're stopped... ready for reverse?'
    'Hit it!'

    A quick reverse followed, and then a full stop.

    'Are we there yet?'
    'Not far now...'

    One more burst of the plama drives and the CMS Contingency landed
in the hangar bay of base... (for time's sake, I will not repeat the en-
tire number sequence)...

    'Alright... time for a hiatus. Everybody take 5...'
    'Yes sir.'
    'We will meeet back here in a few days. There's a lady I'm going
to see...'

.....................................................................

Who is the mysterious lady?
What will Lieutenant Commander do to her?
Will he flunk the Purity Test (400 question version) afterwards?

The answers to all these questions will probably ignored, but read my
entries anyway...

***** Entry appended 18:53 on Mon, 05/02/88 by MGRAVES at SBCCVM    # 204 *****