Sfstory Log 062

=========================================================================
Date:         Tue, 20 Apr 1993 20:58:00 EDT
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         he tried to kill him with a forklift
              (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode eleven

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: SPAM LIVES
Episode Eleven: "There's a Lot Going On Underground" by Gary W. Olson

     "Huh," Shadebeam said.  "Nice pad ya got here."
     "Thank you," Xiphria, the Prelator Supreme of Kookamonga IX, replied.
Indeed, her pad (actually, her office), was nice, and very lavishly furnished,
with exquisite silk rugs of rare Tortulian Spice Beetle silk, even more
exquisite Paintings on Debauchery by the prized intergalactic artist and
freelance pagoda designer Sergham 'Siggy' Al'molizaku, and, for no purpose
that any of the Anarchists or friends thereof could fathom, every single back
issue of 'The New Yorker'.  Beside her, the assistant Prelator Supreme,
Boku (no, not the fruit juice), sorted some of the magazines and frowned
thoughtfully, his fluffy white mustache fluttering aimlessly.
     "We regret having called on you on such short notice..." Emma began.
     "We're depressed by it, too," Robert Smith added.  James(xiv) elbowed
him.  Robert "oof!"d in a depressed manner.
     "It's no inconvenience," Xiphria said.  "Especially if it means meeting
Bata again.  How are you doing, old friend?"
     "I am well," Bata answered.  "At least, better than the planet I was last
on is doing."
     "Excellent," Xiphria replied.  "You know, I missed those long nights we
spent together, under the moons, in my hot tub, filled with sphaghetti sauce
and fettuchini..."
     Bata blushed a deep red, despite his advanced age.  Tane Tessier giggled.
     "I never thought you'd give up on trying to find this 'OmniDean' you're
convinced exists here," Xiphria said.  "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you're
back.  You and your little group of...um...remade aquaductists..."
     "Renegade Anarchists," Jerriphrrt purred.
     "Yes," Xiphria said.  "Your little group may feel free to search the
planet.  And sample the ample hospitality of our resort complexes in between
searches."
     "That reminds me," Slithis said.  "When does the nude bungee jumping
start?  There's no time listed on the program we picked up at the starport."
Shadebeam bopped him with her anatomically correct River Phoenix doll, which
she also had bought at the starport.
     "We have no time for those trivial concerns," James(xiv) said.
     "I do!" Benjen interrupted.
     "Oh, no, we don't," James(xiv) said.
     "Oh, yes we do!" Tarrfel and Benjen chorused.
     "Stop that!" Emma exclaimed.
     "I knew you'd say that," Bata said, smugly.
     "You too!"
     "Anyway, as we just relayed to you, before the episode began," James(xiv)
said, "the galaxy is in imminent danger, with the OmniDean and his mysterious
Spam Lite project.  Bata told us that the OmniDean must be on this planet."
     "Nonsense," Xiphria said.
     "Not necessarily," Boku interrupted.  "They could be in the underground
complex left by the Preserves."
     "Sssh!" Xiphria sshed him.  "That's a state secret!"
     "No it isn't!" Boku replied.  "We told everybody at the end of our
miniseries last summer!"
     "Oh, yeah," Xiphria said, sheepishly.  (Not that there were any sheep in
the office.  They were all at the bungee jumping staging area, getting
sheared.)
     "Besides," Boku went on.  "These are the same renegade anarchists that
those nice natives, Benchen and Katayin, were looking for.  Did they ever
catch up with you?"
     "Yes," Emma said.  "We got it all straightened out, and they returned to
their home planet."
     "Ah, good," Boku said.  "Now, what happened was that, at that time, we
were being menaced by a huge interstellar armada, and Cylla, this AI that had
been slumbering deep under the surface of our planet, awoke and executed a
self-defense system that backfired.  So, she snatched a bullet pod containing
me, Katayin, and Benchen, and got them to set the manual defense system.  I
had slipped on something and knocked myself out, so I didn't see all that
much of it, though they told me about it afterward.  Apparantly, Cylla is able
to tap into the minds of those in the Preserves realm and derive amazingly
lifelike holographic simulcrums of an environment, to mask them from the
strangeness of the Preserves Enclave.
     "Anyway, after we returned to the surface, having successfully repelled
the attack from space, we tried to find the point where the Bullet Pod had
been abducted, but could not.  Eventually, we gave up."
     "Incredible," Bata said.  "I hadn't even guessed that the Preserves had
been on this planet."
     "Wow," Shadebeam said.  "Something he doesn't know."
     "I knew you'd say that," Bata added.
     "Argh!"
     "Well, that's where we begin, then," Emma said.  "Thank you for your
time, Prelator Supreme."
     "My pleasure," Xiphria said.  "When you're done searching, Bata, come up
and see me.  I'll fill the tub with pastrami and we'll..."
     "Thank you," Bata said, hurriedly.  Suddenly, the viewscreen chirped.
     "Boku here," Boku said, pressing the button.  "No, not like the fruit
juice, dammit.  What do you want?  Oh, I see.  Prelator..."
     "Yes?" Xiphria asked.
     "The freighter that just arrived, the IP Like The Wind, is having some
problems with their cargo unloading, and they were wondering if you could
pop by and sort it out."
     "Of course," Xiphria said.  "Escort our guests to the bullet pod tubes."
     Boku nodded and motioned for the Anarchists to follow.  When they were
all gone, Xiphria touched an icon on the viewscreen, and entered a command
code.  A face appeared on the screen.
     "They've arrived?" James(i) asked.
     "Yes, master," Xiphria said.  "And my fool of an Assistant Prelator told
them about the passage in the bullet tubes."
     "Do they know precisely where it is?"
     "No, but they'll find it," Xiphria said.  "I recognized Tarrfel
t'Krodkzik, the best thief in the galaxy, with them.  Nothing escapes her
glance."  She looked around - half the paintings, worth millions, had
mysteriously disappeared from the walls.  "Or her hands," she sighed.
     "Damn that Cylla," James(i) said.  "If only we could find it's core
memory.  But it's too carefully hidden."
     "Do you have instructions for me?" asked Xiphria.
     "See to the styling gel shipment," James(i) ordered.  "I shall have to
confer with the OmniDean."
     Xiphria shut off the viewscreen, pivoted, and exited the office.
     ---------------------------------------------------------------------
     "What's going on here?" Xiphria asked the James Dean who was guiding
vats of styling gel into the warehouse.
     "We found something in one of the styling gel vats," James(mmmxi) said.
"It's over here."  He lead her to the nearest of the huge vats and pointed.
"One of the combat drones from the operation on Karma Chameleon II."
     "How'd it get in the vat?" Xiphria asked, puzzled.
     "You want us to drain the vat, see if there's anything else in there?"
James(mxi) asked.
     "No," Xiphria replied.  "It's deadweight - likely it just fell in during
the mining process.  Pull it out and send the vat on it's way."  She pivoted
(she was very good at that, see) and exited the warehouse.  The James Deans
pulled the huge, armored drone out of the goopy styling gel with a sickening
sucking sound, then guided the vat to it's position in the warehouse, depower-
ing it's hoverjets.
     That done, they exited the warehouse.  Several minutes passed.
     A pair of eyes peeked out from the styling gel.  A hand tried to clear
styling gel from the eyes, only had a bit of a difficult time, as they
themselves were covered with gel.  The figure rose from the goop, and
consumed a small pill.
     "Ahhh, air," Katayin said, as the pill (which countered the effects of
the previous capsule she had taken, which allowed her to breathe styling gel
and thus remain hidden.  "Okay, it's safe to come up."  Benchen rose out of
the goop, taking his capsule.
     "Where are Lark and Gham?" he asked.
     Katayin treaded over to another part of the tub and kicked something
vigorously.  Lark and Gham surfaced, taking their capsules.
     "We're there already?" Lark Purree, aka Time Agent 90210, asked.
"Great!"
     "Um...Lark..." began Katayin.
     "No time to waste!" Lark said, climbing out of the vat and onto the
warehouse floor.  "We'll follow those suspicious characters and find out who
is behind this rather strange plot."
     "Lark, were you and Gham doing anything under the gel, by any chance?"
Benchen asked.
     "Nothing, nothing at all!" Lark said.  "Why do you ask?"
     "Oh, no reason," Benchen said, innocently.  Gham started giggling.
     "What?" Lark asked, turning to face her.
     "Nothing...hee hee...giggle...nothing..." Gham managed to get out.
     "Well, in that case, I'm going to find a way out of here," Lark said.
"You fellas ready?"  He patted his sideburns, which gleeped at him sleepily,
and he set off for one of the warehouse walls, slipping between tightly packed
vats of styling gel.
     "Think we should tell him he's wearing my panties on his head?" Gham
asked.
     "No," Katayin said.  "I think it gives him an air of...oh, I don't
know...dignity or something..."  Benchen chose that moment to double over with
laughter, making it more difficult for Katayin to keep a straight face.
     At that moment, the ground lurched.
     "Hey!" Lark called, from the far wall.  "Did the ground just lurch?"
     "Yes!" Gham, Katayin, and Benchen called back.
     The ground lurched again.  This time, it didn't stop lurching, instead
becoming a steady feeling of descent.  They watched as the walls of the
warehouse ascended upwards.
     "So this is how they do it!" Lark exclaimed, returning to the others.
"They've rigged a huge elevator to take the gel to it's final destination!"
     "Good deduction," BRENDA flashed on the control screen of the styling
gel vat who's guidance computer she currently inhabited.  "Care to guess where
the final destination is?"
     "Just tell us," Lark urged.
     "A nuclear furnace," the message flashed.
     "Ulp!" they ulped.
     ---------------------------------------------------------------------
     "Very interesting tubes," Tarrfel said.  "Centuries old, I'd bet."
     "They're Vaboongajongian," Boku said.  "And yes, they are centuries old.
But how did you know?  When we adapted them to serve as bullet pod tubes,
we totally refurbished them."
     "I was around when the design was being drafted," Tarrfel said.  "That's
one of the advantages of having died centuries ago and hanging out in Hell with
the main engineer.  Now, you say it was roughly around here..."
     "More or less," Boku said.  "The bullet pod moves so fast, it could be
anywhere along this hundred mile stretch."
     "Not anywhere," Tarrfel said.  "Here."
     "But..." Jerriphrrt purred.  "There's absolutely nothing here.  It's solid
thermite slipr-e-steel."
     "That's what it looks like, yes," Tarrfel said.  She walked up and tapped
a complex rhythm on the surface.  It reverberated with an eerie series of
chiming sounds.  Tarrfel tapped another complex rhythm.  Again, more chimes.
Finally, she tapped 'shave and a haircut.'  A huge, bullet pod sized door
materialized.
     "Incredible!" Benjen said.  "How did you know?"
     "I saw the particular slope of the tube," Tarrfel said.  "This is the only
place along the entire tube where sheer momentum could take the bullet pod into
another tube.  All Cylla had to do was open it up, and voom, you were in.
Knowing that, I just used the standard Vaboongajongian portal opening signal."
     They looked at the darkened bullet tube that led into unknown depths.
     "Thank you for accompanying us, Boku," Emma said.  "We'll try to get a
message to you when we find out something."
     "Message nothing," Boku said.  "I'm coming with you."
     "I knew he'd say that," Bata said.  Shadebeam swatted him with her doll.
     "I've been searching for a way to return to the Preserves enclave and see
what I missed the last time around," Boku said.
     "Very well," Emma said.  "Let's go."  Carefully, they advanced into the
darkened tube.  Behind them, the wall re-materialized.

ARE THE ANARCHISTS WALKING INTO A TRAP?
WILL LARK PURREE AND HIS FRIENDS BE TOASTED?
WILL LARK PURREE DIE WHILE HAVING WOMENS UNDERWEAR FESTOONED ON HIS HEAD?
WHERE HAVE BOB AND MEGABOT BEEN THESE LAST TWO EPISODES?
WILL THE PLOTS EVER CONVERGE?
ALL THIS AND COME BACK TO THE FIVE AND DIME, OMNIDEAN, OMNIDEAN, ON AN
     UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date:         Tue, 27 Apr 1993 20:02:00 EDT
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         star me kitten (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode twelve

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: THE SPAM BLOOD
Episode Twelve: "The Preserve of the Preserves" by Gary W. Olson

     "Okay, don't panic," Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210, said.
     "Aiiiiieeeee!" Gham, Katayin, and Benchen yelled.
     "Well, okay, panic," Lark said.  "Just help me figure out a way out."
     "The ceiling is descending with us," Katayin said.  "Else we could
use our bioelectric powers and fly out of here."
     "SageWare, any suggestions?" Lark asked.
     ((Well, I should warn you, if I get destroyed in a nuclear furnace, the
warranty will be invalidated...))
     "Just tell us how to get out of here!!"
     ((Okay, okay!  Hmmm...lemmee access...ah, here we are: what to do if
trapped in secret warehouse descending into a nuclear furnace with multiple
vats of styling gel.  Step one: panic.))
     "We've covered that," Lark said.
     "Who are you talking to?" Gham asked.  Lark ignored her.
     ((Okay, step two: locate emergency brake.))
     "Where's that?"
     ((At the corner of the west and south walls.))
     "Right," Lark said.  Still well lubricated with styling gel, he slipped
through the tightly packed vats of styling gel to the southwest corner, and
found a lever labeled 'Emergency brake, in case you were too stupid to leave
before this elevator cleverly disguised as an ordinary warehouse started
descending towards the nuclear furnace.'  He grabbed the lever, and tried to
pull it, only to have his hands slip off.
     "Damn this gel!" he cursed.  "Hey, come over here!  I found the
emergency brake, but my hands are too slippery!"  Katayin, Benchen, and Gham
flew over, and attempted to push and/or pull the stubborn lever.  It
resisted all their efforts.
     "Is it getting hotter in here?" Benchen asked.
     ((If you don't spring that lever soon, kid, we'll be composite atoms.
And take it from software written by the Sage: being rended into composite
atoms will effectively ruin your ability to charge customers.))
     "I...wait!" Lark said.  He reached up and detached his sideburns.  They
looked at him and burbled questioningly.  "No, I don't know what you should
do.  Just figure out some way to stop this thing."  He slipped the sideburns
into the small gap in the wall that the lever stuck out from.
     ((One minute...))
     "Look at the gel!" Katayin exclaimed.  They looked.  It had started to
give off a rather ugly looking gas, and had started to bubble in an unpleasant
manner.
     ((Thirty seconds...))
     "Come on..." Lark hissed.
     "We...are...going...to...die!" Gham exclaimed.
     ((Ten seconds...been nice knowing ya, kid...five...three...two...one...))
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "You certainly took your time getting here," Xiphria said, glaring at
the two in her office.  "Where *were* you for the last two episodes?"
     "Well, there was this half off sale in Muthrud's Mega-Maxi-Macro-Market
of Monstrously Millenial Magna-Monitors, and..."
     "Oh, never mind," Xiphria said, cutting Bob/James(xxiii) off in mid-
sentence.  Beside him, Megabot, freshly waxed, buffed, and with a new coat
of paint and a pretty bow around his neck, loomed menacingly.  "You have
the map.  Your task is to retrieve them before they locate our Master."
     "It will be done," Bob promised.  Just then, a tech came in, with three
rather dingy looking masters of unarmed death-dealing.  "Eh?" Bob asked.
"You three are still alive?  They didn't kill you?"
     "The guy...er...guys we faced..." the first one, who had a couch cushion
around his wrist, said, "...there were about twenty...no, eighty, of them,
and they bombarded us with sixteen ton weights and pizza boxes and..."
     "I want the truth!" Bob screamed.
     "Oh," the first master of unarmed death-dealing said.  "You should have
said something earlier."
     "Arrrgh!"
     "We were able to slip aboard, only to be captured by the one called
Robert Smith," the second master of unarmed death-dealing said.  "He made us
into shelf supports, until Ernie here came on and had us pulled out."
     "Did you plant the bomb on their ship?" Bob asked Ernie, the tech.
     "Sure did," Ernie replied.  "If they go into overly-hyped space, they'll
explode like a donkey's bladder all over the star system."
     "Oooh, good analogy," the third master of unarmed death-dealing said.
     "If there's no further business..." Xiphria said.
     "I think that's it," Bob said, crossing his fingers.
     "...then GO AFTER THEM!!"
     "Ulp!" Bob ulped.  "Come on, men!  Let's rumble!"  They charged out
of the office, cheering.  Xiphria sighed.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "Hmmm," Boku said.  "It wasn't like this before."
     "I knew it," Bata added.
     "Shut up!" everyone else chorused, except for Robert Smith, who made a
sort of depressed, unintelligible sound.
     The chamber, softly lit by phosphorescent patches of blue on the walls,
the floor, and the ceiling (which arched way, way above them), looked like
something out of Dante's Refridgerator.  Large containers of fruit preserves
littered the landscape, filled with raspberry, strawberry, blueberry, and
such preserves.  They could see movement in the distance, though it was tough
to discern what it was, exactly.
     "What was it like before?" Emma asked.
     "Well, there was this jungle, and a sky," Boku said.
     "Cylla must be asleep," Jerriphrrt said.  "Else she'd have holographic
projectors operating, to disguise this place."
     "The Preserve of the Preserves," Bata said.  "A truly legendary place!
Do you know what this means?"
     "Why should we?" Shadebeam asked.  "That's what you're here for, right,
pops?"
     "I knew you'd say that," Bata said, adding quickly, "What it means is
that we've found a vital clue to the spread of humanoid life forms over the
galaxy, and why most of them like fruit preserves so much!"
     "That's nice," Slithis said.  "But what does it have to do with us?"
     "Not much," Bata said.  "Just thought you'd like to know."
     "There's movement to the south," Tarrfel said, pointing.  "Looks like some
kind of tech work."
     "What do you have under your coat?" Boku asked.
     "Um...nothing," Tarrfel said, holding the paintings she had stolen
tightly under her coat.  "Nothing at all."
     "Let's go check it out," Emma said.  "But keep an eye out."
     "Ewww..." Tane Tessier said, as they started out.  "The floor is all...
gross..."
     "That's because it's covered with a thin, slimy residue of some kind,"
James(xiv) said.  "Styling gel, if I'm not mistaken."
     "Getting styling gel on my boots depresses me," Robert said, to no one
in particular.
     "Hush, all of you," Alexander Berkman said.  "We don't know what sort of
defenses they have."  The Renegade Anarchists (and friends thereof) proceeded
quietly, or as quietly as they could, while squishing in the inch-deep styling
gel film.  After a half hour, they could see a huge, dull grey complex, pouring
styling gel out of a chute into what looked to be a boiling vat of some sort.
Some sickening, putrid, artificial meat (Spam) was being added to the vat, and
the results seemed to be glowing the exact same green color as rotting meat
left in the back of the refridgerator for better than a year, at least.
     "Oh, I think I'm going to be sick," Benjen groaned.
     "I *know* I'm going to be sick," Bata moaned.
     "I'm too depressed to be sick," Robert added, sighing.
     "Just don't look at it," Tarrfel told them.  "Come on - I see a door to
the complex nearby."
     "Aiiioooiiiaaa!" a fearsome voice yelled.  Suddenly and without warning,
they found themselves confronted by a pack of roving shoe salespeople.
     "Geez," Shadebeam said.  "Did someone throw the plot contrivance switch?"
     "No, I think this is a random encounter," Slithis answered.
     "You wish to buy our shoes!" the lead salesperson, who wore a red name tag
with the name 'Chad' on it.  "It's gotta be da shoes!"
     "Sole them!" another salesperson, named 'Barb', squealed.  "Cut off their
soles!  Capture their soles!  Save their soles!"
     "We'd better show them our heels," Emma said, backing away.  The
Anarchists backed away with her, until they found themselves up against the
door.
     "It's locked!" Tane Tessier wailed.
     "Be Like Mike!" Chad exclaimed.  "If I could be like Mike!"
     "That's a Gatorade commerical, you fool!" Barb said, hitting Chad with
an Adiddas hightop.  Suddenly, scarlet laser beams blasted through the
salespeople, leaving gaping holes where gaping holes were better not left.
     "We're saved!" Boku exclaimed.
     "Prepare to die!" Bob yelled, as Megabot fired at them, missing.
     "We're doomed!" Jerriphrrt gulped.
     "We're depressed," Robert sighed.
     "I've got it unlocked!" Tarrfel announced.  She swung the door open, and
the Anarchists and friends thereof charged in, with Bob, Megabot, and various
masters of unarmed death-dealing, soldiers, and techs in hot pursuit.
     -----------------------------------------------------------------------
     Somewhere, slumbering circuits recognized a familiar pattern, and began
to awaken.
     -----------------------------------------------------------------------
     ((...zero!))
     The SageWare Defense-Master 7.0 software paused.
     ((...zero?))
     "We stopped!" Lark exclaimed.  "With just inches to spare."  They looked
at the walls, which showed clear signs of having recently tasted nuclear fire,
and not liking it much.  A door slid open, revealing a service tube.
     "Everybody out," Katayin said.
     "What about BRENDA?" Gham asked.
     "I'll get her," Lark said, picking up his sideburns from the crevice they
had emerged from and clicking them back into their cyberports, on either side
of his head just in front of his ears.  He dashed off between the reddening
vats of bubbling styling gel.
     "He's brave, I'll give him that," Benchen said.  "You think maybe we
should tell him he's got Gham's lingerie plastered on his scalp?"  They
thought on this a while.
     "Naaah!" they decided, and crawled through the service tube.
     "BRENDA!" Lark exclaimed, looking around.  "Which one are you?"
     "Over here," a screen flashed.  Lark saw the screen, and got out a small
pocket calculator.
     "You're going to have to sqeeze your files even more, I'm afraid,"
he said, patching the pocket calculator into the styling gel vat's navigational
computer, where BRENDA was.
     "Why bother?" the screen flashed.  "You just go have fun with that native
floozy.  Don't mind poor BRENDA."
     "BRENDA, this is your captain speaking," Lark said.  "Get into this
calculator or..." he took a deep breath.  "Or I'll have to spank you."
     "Promise?" the screen flashed.
     "Just get in the damn calculator!"
     Lights flashed from the calculator.  When they finished, the screen on
the styling gel vat computer went dead, and the calculator flashed complicated
numerical code for 'run away!'  Lark heeded the advice, slipping past the
rapidly overheating styling gel.  The gel was evaporating from his skin, which
felt smooth and soft, except for his hair, which mysteriously seemed solid
as a block of granite.  He decided to ponder this later, as he leapt into the
service tube and slammed the door circuit.  The warehouse dropped into
the nuclear furnace just as the door slammed shut.  Lark breathed a sigh of
relief, echoed by gleeps from his sideburns, and crawled through the
tube, trying to catch up with Gham, Katayin, and Benchen.
     -----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "This way!" James(xiv) yelled.  The Anarchists barreled down the side
corridor.  Bob, Megabot, and the guards, soldiers, masters of unarmed death-
dealing, and so on stormed by, not thinking to use their peripheral vision.
     "We lost them, for the moment," Emma sighed.
     "Jerriphrrt!" a voice exclaimed.  "What are you doing here?"
     "Eh?" Jerriphrrt asked.  "Who...Gham!"  Gham leapt into his furry arms,
and they spent nearly a full minute engaged in some serious lip-lock.
     "Katayin!" Benjen asked.  He waited for a similar reaction from her,
but none was forthcoming.  With a bit of annoyance, he noticed his altiversal
counterpart, Benchen, was with her.
     "What's going on?" Katayin asked.
     "We'd like to know that, too," Tarrfel said.  "You after the OmniDean,
too?"
     "Who's the OmniDean?" Benchen inquired.
     "Yes, who is the OmniDean?" Lark Purree asked, stepping out of the
service tube.  "Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210.  I...ah, the Renegade
Anarchists.  I remember you - you were the ones who helped Time Agent 173
deal with the threat of Niccolo Machiavelli and the Cosmic Cuisinart.  I...
what's wrong?"
     He asked, because it appeared that most of them were on the verge of
severe facial spasms.  In actuality, they were trying to keep from bursting
out in gales of laughter, thus alerting Bob's troops to their position.
He glared at them in some annoyance, particularly at Gham, who was
embracing the Calican, Jerriphrrt, in a rather intimate fashion.
     "Never mind," Lark said, flustered.  "Just tell me about this...OmniDean."
     "I'll tell you, if you'd like," a voice said.  They turned to see a James
Dean, advancing on them, with several other James Deans, who carried rather
villainous looking laser pistols and were pointing the business ends at the
Anarchists.  "My name is James Dean (i)," James(i) said.  "I am the OmniDean's
first officer."
     They heard soldiers' bootsteps behind them, and heard Megabot's hum.
Smartly, the Renegade Anarchists raised their hands in surrender.

WILL THE ANARCHISTS FINALLY LEARN WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THE OMNIDEAN, THE
     GEL, THE SPAM, AND THE JAMES DEAN CLONES?
WILL THEY BE KILLED IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS?
WILL CYLLA MAKE A MOVE?
WOULD THE ROGUE SHOE SALESPEOPLE HAVE BETTER LUCK IF THEY WERE SELLING MORE
     COMFORTABLE FOOTWEAR?
WILL LARK SPANK HIS CALCULATOR?
ALL THIS AND THE SEASON-ENDING CLIFFHANGER ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date:         Tue, 4 May 1993 20:17:00 EDT
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         star me kitten (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode thirteen

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: SPAM TAKES MANHATTAN
Episode Thirteen: "This is Your Spam, This is My Spam..." by Gary W. Olson

     "You've given us quite a run, I'll admit," James Dean (i) said.  "But here
is where the story ends."
     "We'll see about that," Emma Goldman muttered.  The Renegade Anarchists,
and friends thereof, marched sullenly down the corridor, towards an opulent
set of gold doors.  The doors opened, and they entered, guarded closely by
MegaBot and Bob/James Dean (xxiii)'s soldiers, who all were James Dean
lookalikes.
     "Wow..." Shadebeam said, seriously impressed for once.  They were in an
elaborate chamber, something like a mix between a control center and a
battleship bridge.  Arrays of viewscreens showed large quantities of spam
being mixed with larger quantities of styling gel, forming a green, goopy
gunk that was being sealed in thermite containers and being loaded onto
lifts and taken to the surface.
     "Because of the unexpected destruction of planet Karma Chameleon II,"
James (i) said, "it has been decided to conclude operations on this planet.
As you can see, we have plenty of Spam Lite, for suiting our purposes."
     "And those purposes are...?" Lark Purree prompted.
     "I don't believe we've been introduced," James (i) said.  "You are..."
     "Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210," Lark said.
     "Ah, yes, the Time Agent we ordered," James (i) said.  "Splendid.  We were
afraid we'd have to ask Bilge to set up another one for us."
     "Bilge...set me up?" Lark asked.  "But how can that be?  He was my
mentor...my boss!"
     "And also very, very deep in debt to the OmniDean," James (i) said.  "We
told him to send us a Time Agent, and he reluctantly agreed.  You were
captured, as we predicted, by InterPlanet's security force.  When the planet
exploded, we thought you had gone with it."
     "You hadn't counted on the ingenuity of a Time Agent," Lark said, smugly.
     "Fortunately, you bungled right into our hands," James (i) added.
     Lark tried desperately to come up with a comeback to that one, and failed.
     "So what *are* your purposes, anyway?" Jerriphrrt asked.
     "And what do they have to do with me?" Tane Tessier asked.  "I know I'm
necessary to the plan, judging from Bob's comments."
     "I didn't say anything!" Bob protested.
     "Not now, before, on Planet Tessier."
     "Oh."
     "My master will explain his plans," James (i) said.  "Stand, mortals, and
behold...the OmniDean!"
     "We're already standing," Slithis whispered.  Benjen bapped him.
     There was a humming sound, and a figure began rising from the throne.
Up, up, he rose.  The Anarchists' eyes grew bigger as they took in the sight
of him.  His robes were the finest Taiphaisian silk, arrayed in dark, menacing
hues of blue, red, and chartreuse.  His chin was set, and his mouth angry.
A cigarette hung from his lip, and his hair was slicked back with massive
amounts of styling gel.  His sideburns were the most magnificent anyone had
ever seen.
     He stood, and stepped down from his throne, to ground level.  Still, the
Anarchists looked up - he was nine feet tall.  He spoke.
     "I am...the OmniDean."
     "I knew it," Bata commented.  The OmniDean glared at him.
     -----------------------------------------------------------------------
     ((Analyze disturbance.))
     --Intruders have been caught by OmniDean.  Is currently interviewing.--
     ((Identify intruders.))
     --Match code file Renegade Anarchists.  Identified: Emma Goldman, Tarrfel
t'Krodkzik, Jerriphrrt, Slithis, Benjen, Shadebeam.  Others identifiable:
Robert Smith, Bata, James Dean (xiv), Tane Tessier, Boku, Alexander Berkman,
Gham, Benchen, Katayin...--
     ((Benchen and Katayin?))
     --Affirm, Cylla.--
     ((Send code three nine four to planet Pincota, coded Red for Raspberry
Preserve.  Initiate sequence ten zero zero ten.  Enable.))
     --Affirm.  Code sent.  Sequence initiated and enabled.  Recommend
porting procedures begin, to ensure survival once sequence is complete.--
     ((Porting procedures?  Uh oh.  I knew I was forgetting something.))
     -----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "And you, Time Agent 90210, are the one I had most hoped to see," the
OmniDean said, with a rebel sneer.
     "Me?" Lark said.  "I'm hardly what you'd call a veteran Time Agent."
     "Tell us about it," Katayin commented.
     "I refer not to your occupation, but your cheesy imitation of my look,"
the OmniDean said.  "Your pathetic sideburns, your cheap, slicked back hair.
You're the lamest impersonator of me I've met!"
     "You must not get out a lot," Lark replied.
     "And why do you have ladies' lingerie plastered to your head?" the
OmniDean asked.
     "Well, I...huh?" Lark felt atop his head, as the Anarchists, the
soldiers, and even Megabot fought to keep from exploding in gales of laughter.
"Hey...what's this doing up here?"
     "It's my undergarment," Gham said.  "You should know."
     "It's...frozen on..." Lark said, trying to pry it off.  "It's like my
hair has fused into a solid block!"
     "The gel must have undergone a chemical reaction with your hair care
products," James (xiv) said.
     "I'm almost not depressed, seeing this," Robert Smith said.
     "Gham, what's going on between you and him?" Jerriphrrt hissed.
     "Nothing," Gham replied.  "We just had a bit of time to kill, that's all."
     "Pardon me for asking," Boku said.  "But what is all this?  Why are you
here, under the surface of my planet?  What are your goals, your aims, your
ambitions?  What's with the Spam Lite?"
     "As you know," the OmniDean said.  "This underground chamber was once
the property of the Preserves.  It has laid dormant, for centuries, until I
discovered it, and set up my base of operations.  With the help of Xiphria,
the current Prelator Supreme of Kookamonga IX, I was able to establish regular
shipments of spam and styling gel, which, when combined and strained to remove
the fat, salt, and calories, becomes Spam Lite.  With Spam Lite as a weapon,
I intend to take over the galaxy!"
     "Seen it," Tarrfel commented.
     "Hated it," Shadebeam added.
     "Taped it," Jerriphrrt purred.
     "Quiet!" the OmniDean roared.  "I have pondered my plans for ages, now,
and have determined that the first step in taking over the galaxy must be
the conquering of Time Central!"
     "You'll never get away with it!" Lark growled.
     "Silence, impudent worm!" the OmniDean growled back.  Lark was silent.
"To spring my trap, I required the services of Tane Tessier, for whom I would
arrange, through Bilge, a concert in Time Central.  Because she is so
incredibly, vastly popular, and likes to take her clothes off in front of
millions, she is an ideal choice.
     "Due to the defenses around Time Central, only a Time Agent can get
Ms. Tessier into Time Central without arousing suspicions.  Once she gets in,
she would proceed to disable the defense net, and we would use our Spam Lite
projectors to overwhelm any opposition.  Once we have Time Central, we go from
there."
     "Fiendish," Tane Tessier said.  "But I'll never help you."
     "No, I suppose not," the OmniDean said.  "Not willingly, that is.  James
(xxiii), remove her to your flagship, and begin the conditioning process."
     "Yes, my liege," Bob/James (xxiii) said, grabbing Tessier by the arm.
She struggled, but to no avail.  Bob pressed a button on his belt, and he,
Tane, and Megabot dematerialized, beaming back to their ship.  Moments later,
Boku dematerialized as well, as the OmniDean teleported him to Xiphria's
flagship, also orbiting Kookamonga IX.
     "And now, Renegade Anarchists," the OmniDean said.  "It is time to die."
     "Do we have to?" Benchen asked.  "I was kind of hoping to see 'Splitting
Heirs' this weekend."
     "But first, I must teleport those loyal to me to my ship.  Including
you, Alexander Berkman," the OmniDean said.
     "Alexander?!?" Emma asked, aghast.
     "Yes, Emma," Alexander said, moving to stand next to the OmniDean.  "Who
do you think alerted Bob's troops to the location of Bata's underground
hideout?  Who do you think allowed his forces to track us here?"
     "But, why, Alexander?" Bata asked.
     "Don't you know?" Alexander asked.  "It was really the OmniDean who
rescued me from jail, and told me of his plan to liberate the galaxy from
governmental authority.  I immediately agreed, and have not regretted it.  He
assigned me to you to monitor your movements, to insure that you did not
discover his location until it was too late."
     "The OmniDean lied to you!" Emma protested.  "You're too smart to believe
such simple deception!"
     "He is?" the OmniDean asked, puzzled.
     "He is!" a new voice announced.  Everyone turned, surprised.
     "KALVIN CERTAIN?" they asked, shocked.
     -----------------------------------------------------------------------
     --Porting link established.--
     ((Destination?))
     --Computer network of ship formerly under Satanic Registry, now listed
as owned by the current Renegade Anarchists.  Ship name: the Red Emma.--
     ((Very well.  Begin transmission.))
     --Affirm.--
     -----------------------------------------------------------------------
     "My, how lovely to be recognized," Kalvin Certain said, aiming his phaser
at the assemblage.  His dapper suit and fine, wavy hair gave him more of the
air of a dandy than an intergalactic arch-criminal believed to be dead.
     "But...you're dead, aren't you?" Shadebeam asked.
     "Not quite," Kalvin said.  "The OmniDean rescued Alexander from jail, that
much is true, but once he was in the jury for my trial, I immediately got him
on my team.  He helped me fake my death, and has since done a marvelous job in
leading me to the OmniDean.  Well done, Alexander, well done."
     "Thank you," Alexander said, smiling.
     "Now, be a dear and get the OmniDean's keys, alright?" Kalvin asked.
Alexander took the keys from the OmniDean's belt and handed them to Kalvin.
"We're hijacking your ship, you Goliath-like mound of muscle, you.  Hope you
don't mind, terribly."
     "Mind?!?" the OmniDean roared.  "Of course I mind!  Why..."
     "Attention," a female voice boomed over the PA system.  "This is Cylla,
the guardian AI of this Preserve outpost."
     "Cylla!" gasped the OmniDean.  "So you still exist after all!"
     "The planet has been set to self destruct in five minutes," the female
voice went on.  "Renegade Anarchists, I have taken control of your ship, and
maneuvered it to a service hatch just above the bullet tube from which you
entered my realm.  I estimate you can reach me in four minutes, if you hurry."
     "That's our cue!" exclaimed Jerriphrrt.  The Renegade Anarchists bolted
for the doors, which quickly snapped shut.
     "You're not going anywhere," the OmniDean said.
     "Well, have fun, and good luck," Kalvin said, waving the keys.  "Au
revoir."  He and Alexander Berkman dematerialized, transporting to Kalvin's
ship, which was already preparing to hijack the OmniDean's massive Spam Lite
freighter.
     "Three minutes...hurry!" Cylla called.
     "We're trapped down here!" Gham yelled.
     "We're really depressed about it, too!" Robert added.
     "OmniDean to Xiphria," the OmniDean said.  "Lock on to my coordinates, and
transport two.  Goodbye forever, Anarchists.  Oh, and don't worry.  I'm sure
I can acquire another Time Agent to take your place, Mr. Purree."  The OmniDean
and James (i) dematerialized, and were gone.
     "We're done for!" Slithis wailed.
     "Not yet!" Lark replied.  "SageWare, what do you say?"
     ((Hope you enjoy the next life, bub.))
     "Thanks," Lark grumbled.  He took his pocket calculator out of his breast
pocket.  "Well, looks like this is goodbye, BRENDA."  The calculator flashed
some numbers at him.
     "Is he always this weird?" Shadebeam asked.
     "Usually, he's weirder," Katayin grumbled.
     "One minute...sorry, must lift off before the planet explodes," Cylla's
voice said.  "Will attempt to contact a ship in orbit.  Cylla out."
     "So much for that," Emma grumbled.
     They heard a rumbling sound under them, as mounting explosions raced
towards the surface.  Gham buried her face in Jerriphrrt's chest, and
Jerriphrrt did his best to comfort her.
     "I knew it would end this way," Bata sighed.
     "Shut up!" everyone, including Robert Smith, yelled.
     Five seconds later, Kookamonga IX exploded.

UH OH!  IS IT CURTAINS FOR THE RENEGADE ANARCHISTS?
WILL THEY SOMEHOW ESCAPE TOTAL ANNIHILATION?
IF THEY DO, WILL THEY TRY TO CATCH THE OMNIDEAN, OR KALVIN CERTAIN?
WILL SPAM LITE PROVE TO BE THE DEADLIEST MENACE THE GALAXY HAS SEEN?
WHAT WILL THE PRESERVES DO?
ALL THIS AND MUCH, MUCH MORE, WHEN THIS SERIES RESUMES IN THE FALL...IN
     AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date:         Thu, 6 May 1993 13:01:00 EDT
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         "Don't laugh, I graduated" (RUBICON at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      InterPlanet End of the Semester Special (Collect all One!)

     It was quite a long time ago, but there was once a being called
Ploodux on the planet Bettersti IV in Altiverse 001SF.  He was rather a
nice fellow, as such fellows go, though you might not think so to look at him.
Ploodux was about two feet high, and was, oddly enough, made entirely out
of a rather fun and mysterious shade of midnight blue protoplasmic slime.
However, as Bettersti IV was really very very very cold, this slime was
frozen into an exoskeleton shape which Ploodux used much the way you or I
use our own bodies, save that ploodux had only one eye, three arms, and
his primary sexual characteristics were retractible with a simple mental
command.  But that is unimportant to the story at hand.
     All members of Ploodux's race -- the Betterstirites -- were, like
Ploodux himself, made out of midnight blue protoplasmic slime which, frozen,
had taken a vaguly humanoid shape.  It was rather a remarkable thing, as
it's yet another example of life's infinite capacity adapt to an environment.
     So it came to be, one frozen night, that Ploodux was taking his Gwortz
out for a walk under a truly fantastic sky, which is remarkable as the
atmosphere was a nitrogen/methane mix.  However, this was a chilly night, so
all the methane was frozen and Ploodux could look up and dream a little/
     "Someday," he said to the Gwortz.  "Someday I shall be a part of life
out there.  Someday I shall leave this icy home and make my way among the
stars!  You shall see.  Everyone shall see."
     The Gwortz had no comment, of course.
    Ploodux's Bud-Brother Pluudox shambled by, holding a sucrose-laden shard
of methice.  "Hello, Ploodux," he said, for Betterstirites were unfailingly
polite.
     "Hello, Pluudox.  May I have a bit of your Methice?"
     "No."
     "Oh."
     "Are you looking up at the very clear skies and dreaming of the stars
again?  Are you thinking again of the day that you shall travel there, where
no ploodux has gone, and see what you might see?"
     "Yes, my Bud-Brother."
     "I thought so.  You are a fool.  There is nothing out there.  And you
smell of Gwortz-droppings and you are very short, so you may not play in
any of our reindeer games."
     The translation the chronicler is working from might have some flaws,
but the gist should be clear.
     Pluudox left Ploodux and his Gwortz, then, and went off to play with other
Betterstirites who had cleaner pets.
     Ploodux was saddened by this -- though more because he didn't get a taste
of methice than because of Pluudox's scoren, because Pluudox was a kneebiter
who was known to cheat at solitaire.
     As he continued to walk, and dream of the stars, Ploodux came across
Pleedix, his Bud-mate to be.  The two were to come together and mate for
new buddings of children when they were old enough, and so had to settle
for cheap manual stimulation and thrills in the meantime.  But this was well.
     "Hello Ploodux," Pleedix said, winking her one eye winsomly.
     "Hello Pleedix," Ploodux said.  "Have you any Methice?"
     "Yes."
     "May I have a taste?"
     "No."
     "Oh."
     "Are you looking up at the very clear skies and dreaming of the stars
again?  Are you thinking of the day you shall spread the Betterstirite ideal
among them and find peace and happiness?"
     "Yes, my Bud-Mate to be."
     "I thought so.  You are a geek who smells of milk, Ploodux.  There is
no life out there.  And you are quite short and grunt during private play,
so I am returning to Spawn-Mother and sending back your latex goods."
     The word latex might also be plutonium -- the phonics are very similar in
the language being worked with.
     Pleedix left Ploodux and his Gwortz, then, and sought out a Slime-stud
who no doubt would leave her barefoot and fungus-laden.
     Ploodux was saddened by this, but mostly because he knew she wouldn't
have his goods cleaned before returning them.
     Just then, his Gwortz, looking up, started to Sthy.  And Sthy loudly.
     "What is it, Gwortz," Ploodux asked.
     The Gwortz continued to sthy loudly, looking up.  Finally, though it
took some time, Ploodux realized the Gwortz was looking at something, so
he looked up as well.
     And there he saw the most *fabulous* ship -- festooned with spinning
lights and humming engines.  It was shaped like a burreto, but Ploodux
had no way to know this.
     The ship landed.  Ploodux held what passed for his breath.
     The hatch opened, and two beautiful women from space stepped out.
"I am Stenna," the first said, and winked.  "I am Wynna," said the other,
also winking.  "We have been observing you."
    "You have?  I meant to pay for the methice, honestly."
     "It is no matter, Ploodux.  Your dreams and your willingness to hold
to them have touched our hearts."
     "And other parts as well," Wynna added with another wink.
     "We shall take you to the stars, Ploodux, and together we shall have
grand, heroic, *very* sensual adventures!"
     "Really?"  Ploodux was so excited, he nearly voided.
     "Really."
     Ploodux turned to his Gwortz, and unhooked him.  "Gwortz, I cannot care
for you out there, so -- come back!  Our goodbyes are not done!"
     But the Gwortz, free at last, was gone like a shoe out of hell.
     "It is nothing," Stenna said.  "Come, we must leave."
     And so Ploodux climbed into the ship, with the beautiful space women,
and sat in a seat, all excited.  The hatch closed and the heaters kicked in,
and so of course Ploodux melted almost immediatly into a shapeless, slimy mass.
     "Oh dear," said Wynna.
     "You'd best clean that," said Stenna.
     "Why me?" asked Wynna.
     "This was your idea," said Stenna.
     "Oh," said Wynna, who started to wipe it up.  On a whim, she tasted a
bit of the dead Betterstirite.
     "Mmm," she said.  "He is delicious."
     "Really?"
     "Oh yes."
     So the two experimented, and finally decided Ploodux tasted best as
the syrup base of a carbonated drink.  So they gathered up all the
Betterstirites, melted all but a few kept for breeding purposes, mixed
them up, bottled them, and sold them all across the galaxy.  "Dr. Ploodux"
was a huge success, and Stenna and Wynna got very very rich.


     There was a point to this story, but it has slipped the Chronicler's
mind.
=========================================================================
Date:         Mon, 6 Sep 1993 01:05:00 EDT
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         ice station sampo (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode fourteen

[Okay, for all the new folks, this picks up from last season's epic
cliffhanger.  There won't be a summary of what's happened to date, but
don't worry - you should be able to pick it up as you go along.]

RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: RETURN OF THE SPAM
Episode Fourteen: "An Explosive Situation" by Gary W. Olson

     The OmniDean watched, as planet Kookamonga IX exploded, blasting
planetary matter out in all directions, with studied impassivity.  Beside
him, James Dean(xxiii)/Bob and James(i) watched, smiling evilly.  When
the lights cooled, they turned to face the others assembled on the bridge.
     "This...this is outrageous!" Boku (no, not the fruit juice) shouted.
"You...you won't get away with this!"
     "But I didn't destroy your planet, assistant prelator," the OmniDean
said, his nine-foot-tall body looming over the considerably shorter Boku.
"Or, I should say, ex-assistant prelator.  The Preserves AI, Cylla, was the
one who triggered the destruction program."
     "Well, I think it's simply awful," Tane Tessier groaned.  "And its only
the second planet I've seen blown up this week."
     "Great OmniDean!" Xiphria, the former Prelator Supreme of Kookamonga IX,
whose ship they were all on, called out.  "Your Spam Lite barge is moving
away from us.  We're getting no answers to our hails.  It's entering overly
hyped space right now."
     "Damn!" the OmniDean growled.  "Kalvin Certain has already hijacked
my ship!"  He turned to Bob.  "Take your forces and capture that ship!"
     "Yes, Great OmniDean!" Bob answered.  "Come on, guys!"  He pressed
a button, and he, Megabot, and his troops disappeared, teleported over to
his muave flagship.  The OmniDean watched out the viewport as Bob's
armada lumbered away, entering overly-hyped space on the last known course
that the Spam Lite freighter was taking.
     "Show Mr. Boku to a cell," the OmniDean ordered.  James(mmmxi) and
James(mxi) grabbed an arm apiece, and started dragging him away.
     "I'll find a way to stop you!" Boku swore.  "I swear it!"
     "Oh, blow it out your exhaust port," Xiphria added.  "I'll have you
know I just filed for a divorce."
     "Granted!" Boku yelled, his white mustache heaving as the Deans dragged
him into the turbolift, the doors of which closed almost immediately.
     "They will have my Spam Lite back shortly," the OmniDean said, with
satisfaction.
     "Shall I set a course for Time Central?" Xiphria asked.  "We have Tane
Tessier.  Once she gives her concert there, she can deactivate its defenses
like we planned, and we can take it over, and from there, take over the
galaxy!"
     "Ah, but you forget, dear Xiphria," the OmniDean replied.  "We require
a Time Agent to allow safe passage through the defenses surrounding Time
Central.  Time Agent 90210 was going to be our ticket there, but..."  He
waved his hand in the general direction of the destroyed planet.  "We seem
to be in need of a new one."  He turned to James(i), his first officer.
"Contact Bilge."
     "Yes, OmniDean," James(i) responded, then turned to leave.
     --------------------------------------------------------------------
     "Smashing job," Kalvin Certain said, as he sniffed daintily at the flower
on his lapel.  "I simply love hijacking freighters.  Don't you, Alexander?"
     "It's a living," Alexander Berkman responded.
     "Mrph!" James(lxii) mrphed, from where he was tied up and gagged, in the
corner of the freighters bridge.  Beside him, the rest of the bridge crew,
also James Dean synthezoids, mrphed in sympathy.  Kalvin and Alexander ignored
them.
     "It will be a few hours before we reach Vitupritude II," Alexander said.
"As we predicted, we have pursuit from Bob and his little armada."
     "Good," Kalvin said.  "Hopefully, they'll provide some modicum of
challenge for my criminal skills.  I do so love a good challenge."  Kalvin
paused.  "Alexandar...you seem disturbed."
     Alexander nodded.  "The people we left behind on Kookamonga IX...one of
them was Emma Goldman."
     "Ah yes, your ex-lover, as I recall," Alexander said.  "Well, tut-tut,
dear boy.  It's all part of the business.  Now, I'm going to have a lovely
perfume bath with the equipment I brought over from our ship.  Let me know
when we reach Vitupritude II."
     "Aye," Alexander replied, as Kalvin left.
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     Jerriphrrt clenched his eyes tightly, waiting for the explosion.  He
felt a tingling, and assumed that that was simply due to Gham holding him so
tightly.  Finally, when the explosion failed to be forthcoming, he opened
his eyes, to see he was no longer in the OmniDeans secret headquarters in
the Preserves' Enclave under Kookamonga IX, but in a small room that was
considerably overcrowded.
     "Hey!" he hissed to Gham.  "We're not dead!"  Gham opened her eyes,
and looked around.
     "Guess not," she said.  "Or the gods have some very strange views on
interior decorating."
     "Welcome aboard, lads and lasses," a short, vaguely Scottish looking
fellow with a mustache said.  "That was a very close scrape you had!"
     "Hello," Emma Goldman said.  "I'm Emma Goldman.  This is Jerriphrrt..."
Jerriphrrt waved.  "...Gham..."  Gham waved.  "...Slithis...Benjen...Bata...
Tarrfel t'Krodkzik...Shadebeam...James Dean(xiv)...Robert Smith...Katayin...
Benchen...and the one with ladies lingerie fused to his hair is Lark
Purree, aka Time Agent 90210."
     "Pleased," Lark said, looking a bit embarassed.  Gham giggled.  Lark's
sideburns gleeped.
     "I'm Lt. Spot, of the Starship Winaprize," Lt. Spot introduced
himself.  "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to see the captain."
     "Could I just stay here and be depressed?" Robert Smith asked.
     "I knew he'd say that," Bata commented.
     "Could you teleport those two back?" Shadebeam asked.  "Please?"
     ------------------------------------------------------------------
     On planet Pincota, Raspberry Preserve read the last message from
Kookamonga IX with considerable alarm.
     ------------------------------------------------------------------
     "What are you doing?" Tarrfel asked Lark, as they ascended in the
turbolift.
     "Oh, just checking BRENDA, making sure she's okay," Lark answered.
     "She's in that calculator?"
     "Yes."  He looked at her.  "You don't believe me."
     "It's hard to believe anyone who has panties fused to his hair,"
Tarrfel said, giggling.
     "Look!" Lark insisted.  "I've studied for years and years to become
a Time Agent!  I've faced danger!  I've escaped from two exploding planets
in the last week..."
     "So have we," James(xiv) said.
     "...and I was doing just fine until I ran into you Renegade Anarchists!"
     "Does he always go on like this?" Slithis asked.
     "Only when he's not submerged in styling gel," Katayin responded.
Benchen tittered.
     "We're here," Spot said, as the turbolift doors snapped open.  The
Anarchists, and friends thereof, piled out of the very overcrowded lift,
onto the bridge.
     "Greetings!" a man with a hand puppet on his hand said.  "I'm Captain
Jimbo Quirk, and this is my science officer, Mr. Splock!"  Splock beamed.
Another man, who's face fairly screamed 'old country doctor,', and was on
the verge of turning beet red, stomped forward.
     "Dammit, Jimbo!" he yelled.  "Do you have to embarass us with that
damn puppet to *everyone* we meet?"
     "Doctor," the Splock puppet seemed to say.  "We have guests.  It's
impolite to swear in front of guests."
     "A very good point, Mr. Splock," Jimbo said.  "Did everyone hear that?
Splock said--"
     "We heard what he said!" the doctor yelled.  "I mean, what you made
him say...dammit!"
     "Hey, Jimbo!" Jerriphrrt said.  "I see you finally made it over!"
     "Who..." Jimbo started.  "Jerriphrrt!  Slithis!  Benjen!  How've you
been?!"
     "You know these guys?" Emma asked.
     "Sure!" Benjen said.  "They're the ones who brought us to the Sage's
space station, following the Galactic Civil War in the Superguy altiverse.
Their ship couldn't make it through the Sage's space station, of course, so
they had to turn back.  But we stayed, and got picked up by you guys."
     "How did you finally make it across?" Slithis asked.
     "We met a chap last year, named Zen Navigator," Jimbo said.  "He guided
us through the Notoriously Unstable Dimensional Vortex, through various
altiverses, to this one."
     "We took the scenic route," Sulu added.
     "It vas torture," Chakoff said.
     "We know," Shadebeam told them.  "He 'helped' us, too, in the past."
     "It was depressing," Robert Smith noted.
     "Well, let me introduce the rest of my crew," Jimbo said.  "This is
our ship's doctor, Boner McFly."
     "Dammit!" McFly cursed.  "Um...hi."
     "Our helmsman, Sulu...Chakoff, our navigator...Lt. Yoo Hoo, communications
officer...and, of course, Lt. Spot," Jimbo said.  The Anarchists and friends
introduced themselves again.
     "So," Jerriphrrt asked, "did you manage to find Barbados, Planet of
Physical Delights, yet?"
     "Well, actually, that's sort of why we're here," Jimbo admitted, in
a vaguely embarassed tone.
     "We've been following you around for the last eight episodes," Chakoff
volunteered.  Sulu nodded vigorously.  Yoo Hoo sighed.  "We'd heard that you
had been on Barbados, and were hoping you could sort of give us directions."
     "Why not just have Zen Navigator help you?" Gham asked.
     "We want to get there before we're old and grey, dammit!" Boner told
her.
     "But you *are* old and grey!" Benjen pointed out.
     "Dammit!"
     "How did you know we needed rescuing?" Emma asked.
     "Oh, that," Jimbo said.  "Splock, why don't you tell them?"
     "Of course!" Splock said, beaming.
     "Dammit--"
     "Not now, Boner," Jimbo said.  "Splock's talking."
     "We were told by the AI on your ship, the Red Emma," Splock said.
     "AI..." Shadebeam said.  "But we don't have no friggin A...Cylla!"
     "I knew it!" Bata announced.  Shadebeam thwapped him.
     "Where is the ship now?" Lark asked.  It suddenly occured to Jerriphrrt
that Gham was wearing a very short miniskirt.
     "It's docked with the Winaprize," Jimbo said.  "This...Cylla...says it's
urgent she talk with you immediately."
     "Well, then, let's go..." Katayin started.
     "Ahem," Splock ahemed.
     "Oh...the location of Barbados!" Emma said.  "It's sector delta delta
lambda delta erogenous delta gamma gamma IV.  Once you get there, cruise past
the first three starships, then ask for Earl."
     "Yay!" chorused Sulu and Chakoff.
     "Tell Babette we said hi, when you get there," Benjen suggested.  Jimbo
watched the Anarchists get back onto the turbolift with Mr. Spot.
     "Isn't that wonderful, Mr. Splock?" Jimbo asked his hand puppet.  "We're
going to Barbados!"
     "I'm so pleased, Captain!" Splock seemed to reply.  Jimbo looked down.
     "I guess you are, Mr. Splock!" Jimbo said, giggling.
     "Dammit, Jimbo...!"
     ----------------------------------------------------------------------
     Bilge was dreaming of waffles when the comm-alarm woke him up.  He blinked
sleepily, and turned on the visi-screen.  When he saw James(i)'s face, he
immediately woke up.
     "Wh-what can I do for you?" he asked.
     "We regret to inform you that Time Agent 90210 has met his demise,"
James(i) said.  "We need another Time Agent."
     "Listen," Bilge said.  "All the Time Agents under my command are out
on assignment!  And I can't order the other Time Agents to go out, just
on my say so."
     "We need another Time Agent," James(i) replied.
     "Let me check something..." Bilge mumbled.  He flipped through a porta-
com listing of Time Agents.  "What planetary system are you in?"
     "The Kookamonga system," James(i) said.
     "Let me check...nearest time agent is on...planet Pumiceaction, in the
Lavasoap system," he said.  "She's on vacation, as she has been ever since
the conclusion of the Machiavelli affair last year."
     "Who is she?"
     "Her name is Mapa Marbles," Bilge said.  "Designation...Time Agent 173."

WILL THE OMNIDEAN KIDNAP TIME AGENT 173?
WILL TIME AGENT 90210 SUCCESSFULLY REMOVE THE WOMENS UNDERGARMENT FROM HIS
     HEAD?
WILL CYLLA HELP THE ANARCHISTS AND FRIENDS DEFEAT THE OMNIDEANS PLANS?
WHAT PLANS DO KALVIN CERTAIN AND ALEXANDER BERKMAN HAVE?
WHAT OF THE PLANS OF THE PRESERVES?
DO ANY OF THESE PLANS INVOLVE UNDERGARMENTS OF ANY FASHION?
ALL THIS AND I LEFT MY HEART ON BARBADOS, ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!