Sfstory Log 084

=========================================================================
Date:         Wed, 24 Jul 1996 00:22:07 -0400
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         David Menendez (dmm264 at MAIL.IDT.NET)
Subject:      SF: Starcruiser Anonymous #0

    "And so a new era of peace began.  It would be about as long-lived as
    the previous ones...."
        -- Kasak Llan

The Omnidean was dead, the Shadoes had been stopped, no one had heard from
Omagas in years, and Satan's attention was pretty much elsewhere.  For the
first time in several years, there was no major galactic threat to the
galaxy, universe, or the fabric of reality itself.  After a few uneasy days,
peace suddenly broke out.  Thousands cashed in their Alien Invasion
Insurance to help pay for trips to Barbados, Planet of Physical Delights.
As always there were some naysayers who said that this was foolish.
Eventually, they claimed, _some_ group of conquerors would come along.
These people were not very popular.  No one invited them to parties.
    They were right, of course.

                            -------------------

                           STARCRUISER ANONYMOUS

                            (A Tale of Sfstory)

                                 Prologue

                Wherein Empires and Starships Are Launched

                                    by
                               Dave Menendez

                            -------------------

There are few planets quite like Abgila IV, a fact for which many are
thankful.  When the first Caphanite colonists arrived -- by accident -- they
saw a desolate landscape broken only by gnarled, whithered trees and the
occasional active volcano.  With the kind of creativity that the people of
Sol III (who named _their_ planet after _dirt_) can only dream about, they
renamed it Planet Gloom.
    The Caphanite Interstellar Alliance thrived for several years until the
rise of Zakav.  Zakav, with his comically evil-sounding name and sour
disposition, seemed destined never to rise higher than his post as Deputy
Snack Procurer.  That was before an unexpected explosion killed everyone
above him in the chain of command.  Zakav took over legally and with his
great charisma (as measured in henchmen) soon became Premier for life,
passing the role onto his son when he died mysteriously.
    His son, named Zakav II, moved the government to Gloom, reasoning that
there would be fewer chances for someone to kill him.  His relatives,
feeling that Gloom was an absurdly depressing place to be, mostly remained
on Caphan.  The exception, his brother, moved to Blargol and eventually
married into their royal family.
    Under the ... unique rule of Zakav II, the C.I.A.'s power dwindled to
almost nothing.  Other empires started to ignore them.  The armed forces
grew restless.  Eventually Zakav II died, leaving no heir.  The military
quickly began looking for a suitable replacement.

Meanwhile, the leadership of the Blargol Conglomerate passed to Zakav II's
nephew.  (It is left to the readers imagination to explain how a Caphanite
and a Blargoloid could successfully have children.)  This nephew, one Vakaz
by name (the famous creative Caphanite nomenclature again) and current ruler
of the Blargol Conglomerate, was the individual chosen to replace Zakav II.
    Vakaz, showing the kind of leadership typical for his family, announced
he was combining the Conglomerate and the C.I.A. into one government which
he would run from Planet Gloom.  This new government, he announced, would be
called the Zakav Empire and its mission would be to expand and conquer.
    The Blargol -- now Zakav -- military leaders approved of the expansion
directive, as it meant they wouldn't have to spend time on Planet Gloom.  On
the other hand, being spread out meant they couldn't easily plot against
Vakaz's rule -- prompting some observers to suggest that Vakaz had actually
thought about his plans, rare for a conquering madman.
        Expansion went slowly until, suddenly, peace was declared on an
unsuspecting galaxy.  The Zakavian Empire was so surprised, it took them
almost a month to get back to conquest.  Then, of course, things moved much
faster.

                                 *   *   *

Elsewhere, mostly isolated from the confused muddle that is galactic
politics, the planet Earth orbited its sun at its traditional revolution per
year.  The Earth (home to a surprising proportion of Sfstory characters) has
not always been quite so isolated, however.  There was a period when it
seemed that every time someone fought someone else in space some portion of
New England got destroyed.  As one might suppose, this was a pretty
stressful time -- particularly for New Englanders.
    In a meeting of leading citizens of a few small towns in New Jersey, it
was brought to their attention that (a) New England was getting blown up
fairly regularly, and (b) New Jersey is pretty close to New England.  This
led them to the conclusion that their own city could very well be hit by
some piece of space debris, which would have a disastrous effect on property
values.  How could this be avoided?  The simplest answer was to leave the
area.  But for where?  Where could they be free from the threat of having
things fall on them from space?  This one took longer, as it was pointed out
that any spot on earth could conceivably have something fall on it.
Eventually it was concluded that the safest place would be space itself,
which raised the question of how they would get there.
    This question proved to be the hardest of them all.  Design teams
quickly formed to consider various options.  Scientists considered the need
for food, water, living room, and air, eventually concluding that all were
needed for an effective starship.  Physicists worked out various ideas for
propulsion.  A group of interior designers tried to work out a design that
wouldn't bore the crew to tears or drive them slowly insane.  Some
archeologists made excavations beneath the area.  Eventually the financial
committee reported that building a working starship large enough to evacuate
everyone would cost far too much to be practical.  The mood of the people
hit an all time low as the media, ever quick to spot a potential ratings-
booster, did special stories on how doomed they were.  Fatalism and apathy
ran rampant.  Many prepared to leave the region for some other, possibly
safer, place.  So it came as a complete surprise when the archeology team
announced they had found a vast alien craft, evidently in working order.

After the joyful celebrations died down and everyone had recovered from the
various after-effects of their particular beverage of choice, the
townspeople quickly moved onto the next important step in their plan to
escape certain doom.  They needed a name for their buried, alien starship.
    Dozens of names were suggested, and it became clear that the most
popular name was _Enterprise_.  The legal department, however, thought that
this name was unlikely to go over well with the good people at Paramount
(although how they expected to be sued in deep space is anyone's guess).
Eventually, in disgust, someone suggested they "just leave the damn thing
anonymous."  As you can guess from the title of this story, this is pretty
close to what eventually ended up happening.
    Now that they had a ship and a name, the various science teams began
investigations to make sure it could support human habitation.  It could.
With plenty of room for everyone.  And any children they might have in the
next hundred or so years.  The _Anonymous_ was big.

They had a ship, which all evidence suggested would work, and a name.  Now
all they needed was a crew to run it.  After much discussion they turned to
one Sandra Harrison, declared her to be Captain, and left her with the job
of finding a crew.  She did a fine job of it, and returned their favor by
not informing them of the departure date.
    Other than those deliberately left behind, the _Anonymous_ left with a
full complement of reasonably-competent crewmembers and several thousand
civilian passengers.  Leaving the increasingly risky safety of Earth, they
headed out into space, getting as far as Saturn before they had to stop and
refuel.
    They remained at Saturn for several years, not wanting to leave because
the rings looked mighty neat and they could still get Earth TV.

                                 *   *   *

The quickly-declared New Era of Peace had little effect on the planet
Arorua, which had been at peace for several centuries now.  Once there had
been wars, great conflicts between the peace-loving people of Arorua and
various expansionistic armadas.  Despite the lack of armed forces and space
armadas and any sense of strategic skill, these attacks were always
repelled.  This was because Arorua was defended by Ampron, a gigantic robot
which was seemingly invincible -- although it only seemed that way because
it never lost.
    Sadly, Ampron's record was stained by its final battle, which it lost.
The victorious army surged into Arorua and quickly discovered that Arorua
wasn't really that great a place to conquer.  The people were bland, the
food was bland, even the _landscape_ was bland.  The conquerors soon
realized that the only thing an invading army could do for fun on Arorua was
attack Ampron.  After a few years of half-hearted dominance, they decided to
go terrorize someone else and left Arorua to its own devices.
    The Aroruans, for their part, were quite happy to be left alone.  They
merely continued their simple lives which consisted mostly of farming,
polishing their various Holy Artifacts, singing blandly, and watching the
occasional Radar Vogel movie on cable.

Of course, war returned to Arorua eventually.  This time it came in the form
of the Zakavian Empire.  The well-liked King of Arorua died in mysterious
circumstances (making him the third ruler to die mysteriously in this
prologue alone), and the new regent, Chancellor Desir Elahte, announced the
Aroruan surrender to the Zakavian forces.  Those Aroruans who didn't quite
accept those circumstances rebelled against their new rulers in a valiant
revolution that, by some accounts, lasted almost half an hour.
    Afterwards, Elahte spent his time reassuring the Aroruans that things
weren't so bad, while the Zakavian political and military leaders spent
their time plotting some way of getting assigned to a more interesting
planet.

                                 *   *   *

Elsewhere in space, Captain-General Rtali, leader of the Blargol Eighth
Fleet, was considering his options after conquering another random planet.
His troops had done well and he had time before he was scheduled to assault
something else.  Time to think about the state of this so-called Zakav
Empire that Vakaz had created.  So far, Vakaz's family had shown the
collective leadership ability of mildew -- when they weren't dying
mysteriously.  Furthermore, he was not too pleased about the idea of a
half-Caphanite running things.  Also, he _really_ wanted to avoid having to
visit Planet Gloom.
    There were others who felt as he did, but holding a meeting would be
difficult, especially with Captain Mselt in his command.  That idiot was
almost obsessively loyal to Vakaz.  There had to be some way to get rid of
him....
    Of course, send him off on a mission somewhere.  He signaled his aide to
call Captain Mselt.

A few moments later, Mselt entered.  Rtali looked at him blankly causing
Mselt to wince and step outside again.
    There was a chime from the door.  "Enter," Rtali said.
    Mselt reentered the room and saluted.  "You wanted to see me,
Captain-General?"
    "Indeed.  Captain, I have a mission for you and your elite fighting
force.  I wish you to go and scout for possible enemies in ... this system
here," Rtali replied, pointing at a spot on his view screen.
    "Where?"
    "Right there."  He pointed again.
    "Oh, I see it.  I thought it was a smudge."
    "It's glowing."
    "Well, a radioactive smudge."
    "Whatever.  I want you to go and scout."
    "Right.  We will report any enemies in this system," he squinted at the
map, "...Sol?  Kind of a dull name for a star, isn't it?"
    "Possibly."  He switched the map to a view of the system.  "Now, you'll
want to meet at one of these outer planets before moving into those more
likely to be inhabited."
    "How about this ringed one?  It seems easy to pick out and we could get
some neat pictures."
    Rtali considered this.  "If you wish."  Anything you do that keeps you
away from me is fine in my book, he didn't add.
    "Okay then," Mselt said, preparing to leave, "We'll get ready to go.
Good day, Captain-General."
    "Good day, Captain."
    Mselt walked out, and the door closed behind him.  Rtali grinned,
pleased he had find a way to get rid of Mselt _and_ scout a potential enemy.
Fortunately, it was extremely unlikely they'd find anything important there.


WILL THEY FIND ANYTHING IMPORTANT?
WILL THE ANONYMOUS BE DESTROYED?
    ["In the first episode? As if."]
HOW DOES ARORUA FIT INTO THIS?
WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE PLOTLINES THE SWEDE LEFT HANGING AFTER RENEGADE
    ANARCHISTS IV #25?

SFSTORY: Still Not Dead Yet.

--
Copyright 1996 David Menendez
=========================================================================
Date:         Mon, 29 Jul 1996 22:36:12 -0400
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         David Menendez (dmm264 at MAIL.IDT.NET)
Subject:      SF: Starcruiser Anonymous #1

The immense, vaguely-defined form of the _Anonymous_ slowly orbited Sol VI,
a network of communications satellites ensuring that its inhabitants had
uninterrupted access to terrestrial television transmissions.  These signals
were pretty much the last link between the crew and passengers of the
_Anonymous_ and their home, called Earth, Terra, or Sol III, depending on
whom you ask.  Captain Sandra Harrison, commander of this alien vessel, had
been against staying around Saturn at first, but eventually was convinced
that they were unlikely to run into anyone this far from any civilization.
        Saturn's distinguishing characteristic is its ring system, the largest
among Sol's four gas giants.  These rings vary in color, forming concentric
circles around the planet.  Viewed from above the poles, these rings
resemble a giant target.  This is why the Captain Mselt of the Zakav Eighth
Fleet chose Saturn for his staging area before scouting out potential
enemies in the solar system.
    It's a safe bet that the Zakavian forces, their stated long-term goals
being conquest and expansion, might come into conflict with the crew of the
_Anonymous_.
    On the other hand, Saturn's a big place.  It's possible the two groups
won't even meet.

                            -------------------

                           STARCRUISER ANONYMOUS

                            (A Tale of Sfstory)

                                 Episode 1

                      Wherein Revolution is Discussed
                                    and
                            Weapons are Tested

                                    by
                               Dave Menendez

                            -------------------

The monarchy of Arorua was never exceedingly powerful;  most power rested in
the hands of the Chancellor.  As a result, the Aroruan kings that cared
enough to actually govern made sure the Chancellor was rather weak-willed.
King Gisp was an exceptionally powerful ruler, and he chose his Chancellor
well.  However, Desir Elahte was no idiot, and, seeing which way the wind
was blowing, he was among the first to leap to the Zakavian side.  As a
result, he now handled most of the day-to-day affairs for Arorua's new ruler
Governor Malta Jjana.
    Currently, the two, along with Captain-General Tvanir, leader of the
Aroruan Occupation Legion, were preparing to receive the latest orders from
Planet Gloom over the encrypted command channels.
    Not surprisingly, the first message was for Tvanir from Central Command.
Elahte wordlessly handed her the printout without looking at it.  She
grabbed it and looked at it.  Like most members of the Zakavian Imperial
Military Aggregate, she disliked the messages from Central Command, mostly
because they were sent in all caps, which made it seem like they were
constantly shouting.  One enterprising commander had assigned a computer
technician to write a short program to properly capitalize the orders,
although he had died soon after when the program mistook an acronym for a
regular word and he moved to close to an enemy ship.
    She read it again, just to make sure they hadn't accidentally sent an
old message.  The dates checked out.  She swore.
    "What's wrong?" asked Jjana, the amused look in his eyes saying he
already knew.
    "They're reducing the Legion.  Again.  For some reason, they think I
have more soldiers than are needed to control the planet," she replied.
    "I assure you, Captain-General," Elahte began, "the chances of my people
revolting are--"
    "'Virtually nil'," Tvanir finished.  She'd heard that speech before.  In
fact, she was getting rather tired of it.  "Well, I certainly hope so.  If
something _does_ come up, neither of _you_ will be losing your jobs."  She
turned to Jjana.  "Anything else for me?" she asked.
    He shook his head.
    "Fine, I've got things to do," she said.  As she left the room, she was
already plotting.

To say Princess Elim of the House Ri'Tala, daughter of the late, lamented
King Gisp, was displeased with her sudden drop from "heir apparent" to "lady
we let live in the castle because she's harmless" would be something of an
understatement.  However, she knew that open rebellion against the Zakavians
was probably the fastest way to reduce her status even further, so she
tended to fume in private.
        In contrast, her brother, Prince Boltar, had received the news with a
bland indifference.  The way he saw it, time spent worrying over such things
as a loss of status was time that could be spent looking for fun things to
do. Looking for fun things to do was a popular activity among the Aroruans.
Despite that, few fun things to do were ever found.  The more intelligent
Aroruans took that as a sign and typically went somewhere else.  The rest
stayed home and wasted time cooking, eating, reading, sleeping, and so
forth.
    Boltar had found a wooden paddle to which a small rubber ball was
attached by means of an elastic cord.  He had discovered that he could
bounce the ball off the paddle, and was currently engaged in seeing how long
he could keep it up.  Eventually, he figured, he would get very good and be
able to impress girls.  Elim was, for the ninth time, considering telling
him to go paddle somewhere else when there was a knock on the door.
    This had the immediate effect of throwing off Boltar's rhythm, which
caused him no end of irritation.  While he sat in his chair holding his
paddle, Elim stood up and answered the door.
    She was one syllable into 'hello' when she saw who it was and stopped in
shock.
    "Good evening, Your Highness," began Tvanir, "might I speak with you a
moment?"
    "Um, certainly, Captain-General," replied Elim, who was racking her mind
trying to see why Tvanir would be visiting her.
    Tvanir looked over at Boltar, who smiled blankly at her.  "May I come
in?" she asked.
    Elim jumped and moved out of the way, gesturing for Tvanir to enter.
"What brings you here?" she asked.
    "Her feet, I assume," Boltar replied.
    The look Elim and Tvanir gave him was sufficient to send him elsewhere
to practice his paddleball.
    Tvanir closed the door behind her and turned to Elim, "Now then, Your
Highness, I have come to talk about the rebellion."
    "Why?" asked Elim, quickly suppressing a spike of fear.
    "Well, other than that first one, we haven't had any."
    Elim waited, having gone from scared to confused rather quickly.
    After a second, Tvanir continued. "I'm wondering if there's going to be
another."
    "Do you think I would know?"
    "Perhaps.  You have never seemed that pleased about our presence here.
You may have connections in a rebellion movement.  You might even have
founded one."
    "Is this an accusation?"
    Tvanir laughed, startling Elim.  "Not at all," she said, "I have no
evidence you're rebellious at all.  I can't even prove a rebellion _exists_.
 ... That's my problem, you see?"
    "Um... no?"
    "Without rebellion, I have no reason to keep so many soldiers.  Without
a large force to call my own, I'll never be able to increase my status and
go somewhere in my career.  What I'm saying is that a _little_ bit of
rebellion would give me reason to keep what I have.  Since this is good for
me, I'd then be inclined to go easier on your people."
    Elim stared for half a second.  "So, if the people were _more_
rebellious they'd get _better_ treatment?"
    "That's about the size of it."
    "That's absurd!"
    Tvanir's eyes narrowed, which failed to make her look more threatening,
but rather gave the impression of someone walking into bright sunlight from
a dark room.  "That's all I came to say, Your Highness," she growled, which
was more effective than the eye-narrowing.
    "Good day, Captain-General," Elim replied, opening the door and
startling Boltar again.
    "Aww," he said, "I was doing pretty good, too."
    "Good day, Your Highness," Tvanir said, making 'Your Highness' sound
like a form of gum disease.  She glanced at Boltar and then walked off.
    "So what was that about?" Boltar asked Elim.
    "Nothing important," she lied.  Already she was making plans.  The few
possible rebels she had met would certainly be swayed by _this_ bizarre turn
of events.

Tvanir walked back to her offices, showing few signs of her inner
frustration. Occasionally, she was passed by one of her subordinates, who
saluted.  She acknowledged those that she noticed, and, despite her sour
mood, didn't kill or maim anyone, which is one of the many differences
between her and, say, Admiral Morgan.
        Her irritation stemmed from a number of sources, but it could all be
traced back to her loss of soldiers.  Since her talk with Elim seemed to
have failed to produce results, she could probably discount any chances of
an Aroruan rebellion.  That left her with only one option, if she was
desperate enough to use it.
        By the time she reached her offices, she had decided she was.

                                 *   *   *

The unknown race that had designed the _Anonymous_ had also included several
smaller craft, which the crew assumed were fighters since they were fast,
maneuverable, and had guns.  Captain Harrison had divided them into five
main groups, with a few spares for security.  Wishing to avoid competition
between the five wings based on names, she called the five groups the Gold,
Red, Black, Green, and Blue squadrons.  Surprisingly, this created quite a
stir among certain mystically-inclined passengers, and they went on for
quite a while about the symbolism involved until they realized that no one
understood, cared, or was even paying attention in the first place.
    These squadrons, however, had virtually no battle experience using their
craft, despite the years spent orbiting Saturn, since they hadn't
encountered anyone with whom they could engage in combat.  Nonetheless, the
squadrons were pretty certain they had mastered their fighters, so they had
moved on to testing larger craft.  The Blue Squadron was assigned the job of
testing a larger craft designated an escort fighter because it was too big
to be a fighter and too small to be an escort.
    Their leader, Squad Commander Roger Vasta, checked his notes for the
last time and prepared to commence the testing.  "All right, guys," he
began, prompting Squadmember Jen Kadar to clear her throat loudly.
"_People_," he corrected, "our first weapons test is to fire on that
meteoroid."
    "We're shooting at a rock?" asked Squadmember Thomas Dent, "What's the
challenge in that?"
    "Look, Dent, we're not even sure what these weapons _do_.  We want an
experiment that's unlikely to harm anyone."
    "What if there's space-borne life living on that meteoroid?" asked
Squadmember Samantha Dixon.  "Wouldn't we be hurting them?"
    "I think we can take that chance," answered Vasta, dryly.
    "Should I say something now?" asked the last squad member, Alex McCurry.
    "That won't be necessary."
    "Righto."
    "Getting back to the matter at hand," Vasta continued, "Dent, target the
meteoroid."
    "I am targeting the rock," Dent replied.  "Should I activate the
QuiteLarge cannon?"
    "Yes."
    "You know," Kadar commented absently, "someone should remind me to punch
Tom for that name."
    "Why, did he come up with it?" asked Dixon.
    "Probably not, but _some_ technician did, so it'll send a message to all
the technicians."
    "Makes sense to me," Dent commented.
    "Remind me never to be in a group you dislike," Dixon replied.
    "You're in _this_ group."
    "Ah, but if you dislike this group, you can just beat up yourself, which
would send a message to everyone about how much you dislike this group."
    "Do you suppose we could fire the cannon at some point before our air
runs out?" Vasta asked, annoyed.
    "You haven't told us to fire yet," McCurry protested.
    "Of course.  How forgetful of me.  Fire at will, Dent."
    "You got it, Boss," Dent said, obviously enjoying himself.  "Firing
now."

The QuiteLarge Cannon being tested by the Blue Squadron spat out a blinding
white beam at the meteoroid, destroying it to everyone's satisfaction except
Dent's, who was never all that pleased about how quiet space is to begin
with.
    However, blinding white Beams of Death are just the sort of thing an
invading scout fleet would notice, and Captain Mselt's scanning crew picked
it up surprisingly quickly.  It seems the two groups will meet after all.
    "Captain!" the Scanning Officer yelled, "we've found something."
    "No need to shout," Mselt admonished, "I'm sitting right here after
all."
    "Sorry, sir.  We've detected signs of alien presence."
    "You mean all that radio flux being put out by Sol III?  The stuff that
almost drowns out the system's _star_?  I already _know_ about that."
    "No, sir, I mean aliens right here."
    "You mean that network of satellites that receive the transmissions from
Sol III and transmit their data to that enormous starship?"
    "Not that either, sir.  I'm referring to aliens _right here_.  Look, you
can see 'em on the viewscreen," he gestured at the screen, where the escort
fighter was busy blowing up another meteoroid.
    "Oh.  Them.  I suppose since they haven't tried to contact us, they
don't know we're here, and that ship looks too small to pose a real problem.
I think we can take it and get out quickly enough so that the main ship
won't even notice what happened until we're already gone.  Weapons!"
    "Yes, Captain?" the Weapons Officer asked, snapping to attention and
spilling his soft drink all over the Helmsman.
    "Prepare the Generic Alien Unconsciousness Ray, but first wipe up that
mess before something shorts out."
    "But these panels are waterproofed."
    "Remember what happened to Rgas?"
    "Yes, sir.  I'll get right on it."

Back on their unnamed escort freighter, the Blue Squadron (who were
technically not a squadron at the moment because they were all in the same
ship, not that anyone really cared about this distinction) was busy
destroying yet another bit of space debris.  Or, to put it more accurately,
Dent was busy destroying said debris.  "Yeah!" he enthused, "look at that
one go.  Hey, Boss, what's that missile called?"
    "I forget," Vasta replied.
    "Look at the way it writhes in space, as its skin boils away.  If space
had an atmosphere, you could probably hear that meteoroid wailing in agony,"
commented Dixon.
    "You have such an interesting way of looking at the world," McCurry said
to Dixon.  It was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic.
    "All right, guys--" Vasta began, cutting himself off after 'guys' and
looking at Kadar, who had dozed off.  "Um, Kadar?" he said, "You awake?
Don't bother answering if you aren't."
    "How could she sleep at a time like this?" Dent demanded.  "She's
missing all the weapons testing!"
    "You see one meteor blow up, you've seen them all," Kadar answered,
groggily.
    "Actually, a meteor is an atmospheric phenomenon," McCurry said, "in
space the rocks which cause meteors are called meteoroids."
    "Thank you, Dr. Pedant," replied Kadar.
    "You know," Vasta cut in, "I think I might take a nap myself."
    "I know how you feel," McCurry agreed, "I feel like an alien sleep ray
test subject."
    "Funny you should mention that," Dent said, "During McCurry's
_wonderfully_ exciting lecture on the meteor/meteoroid distinction I decided
to do a long range scan--"
    "To shore up our depressingly inadequate security?" Dixon interrupted.
    "Er, no.  To look for more meteoroids.  Anyway, I noticed some odd
energy readings, which I'm positive are coming from an alien spacecraft."
    "How (yawn) can you be so sure?" asked Vasta.
    "I followed the readings back to their source and..." he paused,
blinking and yawned himself, "they're coming from an alien spacecraft."
    "Oh, wonderful."
    Soon only regular breathing could be heard.  The Blue Squadron, oddly
enough, contained no snorers.


JUST HOW ODD IS IT?
IS IT ODDER THAN SLEEPING THROUGH WEAPONS TESTING?
WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO BLUE SQUADRON?
WILL PRINCESS ELIM FORM A REVOLUTION?
IF SHE DOES, WILL TVANIR LOSE HER JOB?
WHAT IS TVANIR DESPERATE ENOUGH TO DO?
DOES IT INVOLVE GAME SHOWS?

SFSTORY:  New Lenses in About an Hour

--
Copyright 1996 David Menendez
=========================================================================
Date:         Tue, 6 Aug 1996 00:43:35 -0400
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         David Menendez (dmm264 at MAIL.IDT.NET)
Subject:      SF: Starcruiser Anonymous #2

Governor Malta Jjana, ruler of Arorua by default, usually enjoyed the weekly
meals with what remained of the Aroruan heads of government.  The Aroruans
were about as rebellious as potting soil, so the only real disturbances came
from Captain-General Tvanir, who typically got irritated each time her
superiors reduced her command.  Of course, she realised the need for the new
rulers to show a united front, so she was unable to show her irritation at
the dinners.  This, understandably, made her difficult to talk to.  Jjana
had been prepared for the worst with the newest reductions.  He was not
prepared for what actually happened.
    Tvanir was acting nice.
    Very nice.
    She was actually smiling, something she hadn't done since formation of
the Aroruan Occupation Legion.  She was gracious, laughed at his jokes, and
kept _looking_ at him and pretending not to.
    Sometime around dessert Jjana figured out what was going on, and a chill
ran up his spine, almost tripping over a vertebra he had broken in a
sledding accident as a child.

                            -------------------

                           STARCRUISER ANONYMOUS

                            (A Tale of Sfstory)

                                 Episode 2
                         Wherein a College Student
                               Returns Home
                                    and
                          Captain Mselt runs into
                            the Green Squadron
                                    by
                               Dave Menendez

                            -------------------

The planet Foobarh is not the most famous of planets.  Few people outside
its immediate sector have even heard of it -- although, given the
oft-mentioned vastness of space, this isn't too surprising.  It has the
usual things a small, united planet has:  fairly low taxes, a small space
armada (estimated time of survival in a battle with the Zakav Eighth Fleet:
almost three hours), and reasonably clean spaceports.
    It was to one of these spaceports that our protagonist for this scene,
one Horlun SoFah, was currently traveling, utilizing Foobarh's modern
mass-transit system ('modern' being defined as 'in an almost constant state
of disrepair').  Horlun was traveling to said spaceport in order to meet his
cousin, who was enrolled at Interstellar University where he was studying,
among other things, the great Koosbanian playwrights, the megapoetry of
Arquilon IX, and heroism.  The latter was mostly for personal interest, as
it had the least chance of leading to a profitable job.
    Arriving at the Lomna Fesia Memorial Spaceport, Horlun checked the
arrivals board and saw that his cousin's ship had yet to arrive.  Checking
his wallet, Horlun bought a magazine and walked up to the gate -- or as
close as security would let him approach, anyway.
    Eventually, the ship arrived and its passengers disembarked.  Horlun
scanned the crowd, eventually identifying his cousin by his large size.
"Orliss!" he called, catching his attention.
    "Hi, Horlun," Orliss replied.
    "Is that all your luggage?"
    "Yeah, I don't need much for just a semester break."
    Eventually, Orliss made it over to Horlun, a task made more difficult by
the religious missionaries that kept trying to get donations.  Orliss,
probably because of his heroism courses, repressed his urge to throttle
them.
    "We better hurry," Horlun said, after they had exchanged greetings, "it
takes a few hours to get to my place from here."
    Orliss blinked, "But I can see your house from here," he said, sounding
confused.
    "Yeah, but so many tram lines are down, we've got to take a roundabout
route."
    "Oh," Orliss replied, "I guess that makes sense."
    Once again, Horlun reminded himself that Orliss was not a moron.  People
were always surprised to learn that Orliss attended Interstellar University.
 Especially those who knew that the SoFah family couldn't possibly afford
tuition.  The fact was, Orliss had gotten the equivalent of a football
scholarship -- which always made his chosen course of studies more
surprising.

They reached Horlun's apartment without much incident.  The passengers had
had to get out and push at one point, but that wasn't _too_ much trouble.
    "Well," Horlun said as they entered his place, "here we are."
    "It's very ... dark," Orliss commented.  "It matches your clothes."
    Horlun tried to come up with a response to that, but failed to find
anything that sounded intelligent, so he decided to change the subject.
"So, you want to go down to the local behin place?  On Rinsday they have
anti-establishment ranting."
    "Uh, sure."

Behin was discovered centuries ago by a group of Foobarhians who, possibly
under the influence of alcohol, saw a bean growing on a bush and decided to
grind it up, filter boiling water through the ground bean particles, and
drink what came out.  They discovered that the greenish-yellow liquid
produced tasted _very_ bitter, but they didn't want to go to all that
trouble for nothing so they finished their cups.  Later that night, they
discovered the other attribute of behin when they were all unable to sleep.
        Possessed with the secret of making a bitter, yellow-green liquid that
prevented sleep, the Foobarhians decided to market it, possibly as a prank.
It spread like wildfire.  Its discoverers became fabulously wealthy, but
then, years later, they all died of old age.

Orliss followed Horlun into the behin house.  The sign over the door gave it
the cheerful name of "The Pit of Dissatisfaction", which was probably not
that smart a name, from an advertising standpoint, but probably didn't deter
its target audience.
    Horlun was walking to meet someone.  Orliss quickly moved to catch up;
he didn't want to get lost since he'd probably never find Horlun again --
everyone in the place was dressed in dark clothing.  He had seen funerals
more colorful.
    "Orliss, this is my friend Anme Rifba," Horlun said, gesturing
appropriately.  "Anme, this is my cousin Orliss."
    "Hi," Orliss said.
    "Yeah," Anme replied, before returning her attention to the night's
ranter, who was going on about the evils of assembly bill A2345-56682, which
transferred funding from public television to mass-transit system repair.
    Orliss sighed, it was going to be a rather dull semester break.

                                 *   *   *

Captain Mselt, commander of the _IZS Absurd Physical Harm_, looked at his
new captives and wondered at the weird coincidences of life.  Like the
Caphanites, these creatures looked almost exactly like his own Blargoloid
race -- the only real difference being coloration.  From an objective
standpoint, he had to say their tan/brown coloration was probably more
useful than the blue coloration of the Caphanites from a camouflage
standpoint, but still not as useful as the Blargoloid's pale green color
scheme.  Idly, he wondered what color their blood was.  Yellow?
    "It seems the Generic Alien Unconsciousness Ray was a success, probably
because these aliens are so similar to us," commented his chief scientist.
    "Yes," agreed Mselt, "it also seems that space is black, probably
because there isn't that much light there."
    The scientist, sensing the sarcasm, walked off to be with the other
scientists.  Mselt's second in command, Ship Commander Dfale, walked over.
"Sir," he began, "should we head back to the fleet now?"
    "I don't think so.  It's obvious we've been set up."
    "How so?"
        "He told us to come here.  He chose this system out of all the systems
around.  Do you honestly think Captain-General Rtali wouldn't know about a
starship that size?  He sent us here to die."
        "Captain, even with that ship's relatively immense size it would still
be virtually impossible to detect at that distance--"
    "It doesn't matter.  He sent us here to get rid of us.  Even now he's
probably meeting with his conspirator friends plotting the downfall of the
Empire.  I can't let that happen.  _Any_ race powerful enough to build a
ship like that one is dangerous to the Empire, and I intend to take the news
to the Emperor himself myself -- with those prisoners as evidence."
    "Sir, with all due respect--"
    "Later, Dfale.  For now, tell the navigator to set a course for Planet
Gloom."
    A shudder ran through the room.  "Not... Planet Gloom!" Dfale gasped.
    "Yes, Planet Gloom," Mselt replied.  "Where else would I go to find the
Emperor?  Arorua?"
    "I'll inform the bridge, sir."
    "Excellent."

                                 *   *   *

Back on the _Anonymous_, technicians anxiously awaited the weapons tests
results from the Blue Squadron's unnamed escort fighter.  They waited for
much longer than they had expected.  Eventually, they both had to accept
that something had clearly gone wrong.
    "Clearly," Tom Kadar said, "something has gone wrong."
    His partner, Beth Gaelen, looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.
When it became obvious he wouldn't, she returned her attention to her
computer console.
    "You seem remarkably unconcerned about this problem," Tom commented.
    "Look," Beth said, "you know Blue Squadron.  They're probably just
shooting a few more rocks than we planned for.  After all, what's going to
happen?  We're _alone_ out here in a gigantic starship.  What could create
problems?"
    "The QuiteLarge cannon could have exploded, killing them all.  It would
explain our total lack of communication with them."
    "Oh come on, they probably got into an argument over the
meteor/meteoroid distinction and forgot to check in."
    "Why didn't you just have a continuous connection transmitted over our
satellite network?" asked Tom's younger sister Megan.
    "Because we didn't think of ... say, what are _you_ doing here?"
answered Tom.
    "'What are _you_ doing here?'"
    "Ha.  Very funny.  Listen to me laugh."
    "I just wanted to see what you technician types are up to," explained
Megan.  "Hi, Beth."
    "Hi," Beth responded, not looking up from her console.
    "Don't disturb her," Tom said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "she's
busy trying to ignore me."
    "Not true," Beth protested, "I'm designing stuff."
    "Giant robots?" Megan asked hopefully.
    "No," Tom replied, "_not_ giant robots.  Especially not transforming
giant robots.  Why do you have this obsession with robots anyway?"
    "They're cool!"
    "Perhaps they are," said Beth, "but it's not our style."
    "Oh well," sighed Megan.  "I'll see you guys later."
    Tom waited for her to leave and mumbled something unkind about
teenagers.
    "Anyway," Beth suggested, "if you're concerned about Jen, I could ask
Roy to take a look.  He's on Green Squadron, you know."
    "Of course I know that.  But it's a good idea, anyway.  Odd that we both
have siblings in the fighter squadrons, though."
    "That is kind of odd, now that you mention it."
    Having come up with a plan (and inadvertently informed the readers
about a few details), Beth logged out and went to find Roy.

Finding Roy wasn't as difficult as one might guess, given the spaciousness
of the _Anonymous_.  He, like the rest of the elite fighter pilots (they
actually had admitted every volunteer, but they called themselves elite
because it impressed the civilians), tended to spend a lot of time in the
pilots' lounge.  On occasion Beth asked him what he did in the lounge, and
he usually said something about the pilots trading stories to help each
other improve.  She almost believed him, except that every time she visited
the lounge they were all watching TV.
    She quickly moved over to Green Squadron's traditional table, and got
their attention.
    "What's up, Beth?" asked Squad Commander Rick Hydrospok.
    "Well," she explained, "I was wondering if your group could go and check
on Blue Squadron."
    "They here?"
    "No, they're out testing weapons in space."
    "Oh.  So you want us to leave the relative comfort of the Pilots' Lounge
to go flying around looking for a ship loaded with experimental, possibly
dangerous weapons?"
    "C'mon, Hydrospok," commented Squadmember George Daniels, "you think
they'd be out testing non-dangerous weapons?"
    The others snickered a bit at that.  When they had stopped, Hydrospok
continued, "I'm just not sure I want to get near a ship loaded with weapons
that could accidentally vaporize my fighter."
    "Besides," Roy added, "Mystery Science Theater is almost on."
    "Well, I can see why you wouldn't want to miss that," Beth said.  "Maybe
Black Squadron could go and check."
    "Whoa," began Daniels, "we can't let _them_ go out and do this."
    "Why not?" asked Hydrospok.
    "They're our arch enemies."
    "Since when?"
    "Since they beat us in air hockey."
    "Oh yeah."  He turned to Beth, "All right, we'll go out and find them
for you.  Green Squadron:  move out!"
    The others stared at him.
    "What?"
    Daniels spoke up, "I hope you don't intend to use that line again."
    "Whatever.  To the hangar!"  Hydrospok strode briskly out of the room.
    The rest of Green Squadron looked at each other, sighed, and followed.
    Beth stayed behind and watched Mystery Science Theater 3000.

                                 *   *   *

"Dfale," Captain Mselt said, "why haven't we left yet?  I am eager to get to
Planet Gloom."
        The bridge crew shuddered.  Dfale tried to remember the last time
someone
had claimed to be _eager_ to reach Planet Gloom.  He failed.
        "Dfale?" Mselt asked again.
    "We're still too close to the planet."
    "Still?"
    "Yes, Captain, and ... hey!"
    "What?"
    "That starship launched some fighters."
    "They're probably looking for their missing ship.  Prepare the Killdeath
Blaster."
    "Yes, Captain," replied the Weapons Officer.
    "How soon until we can get out of here?"
    "Very soon, sir," replied the Navigator.
    "How long is 'soon', navigator?" demanded Mselt.
    "Actually, it's now, sir."
    "So, by 'soon' you meant 'now'?  Why not just _say_ 'now'?"
    "No, sir.  Or, yes, sir.  I mean, when I said 'soon', it wasn't yet
'now'."
    "Of course it wasn't now, it was in the past."
    "Yes, sir.  But back then, it was soon and not now."
    "But then it would soon _be_ now?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "I think I understand that."
    "Should I activate the overly-hyped drive then?" asked the Helm.  (Well,
actually it was the officer _at_ the helm who asked, but ... never mind.)
    "I suppose we could hang around and taunt those incoming fighters,"
Mselt mused.

The Green Squadron had, by this point, come into visual range.
    "My God," said Daniels, "an alien starship.  A _different_ alien
starship, as distinct from the ones we use."
    "Should we attack?" asked Squadmember Stan Losar.
    "Do _you_ think we should attack an alien spacecraft with unknown
capabilities for no firm reason?" asked Gaelen in response.
    "I see your point."

"Actually, Captain," Dfale said, "taunting them might bring their mothership
after us."
    "I thought you couldn't track a ship through overly-hyped space," said
Mselt.
    "Not easily, but why take risks?"
    "Can we establish communications with them?" Mselt asked the Comm
Officer.
    "I'm not sure, sir.  We don't know what kind of communications they
use."
    "We have a Generic Alien Unconsciousness Ray but we can't communicate?"
    The Comm Officer shrugged.  Mselt made a mental note to read through his
ship's spec sheets again.
    "Take us to Planet Gloom, then," he said aloud.

"Hey," observed Squadmember Sally Winters, "they've vanished in a rather
unimpressive burst of light."
    "They must have activated a faster-than-light drive," deduced Losar.
    "I'll bet they've got Blue Squadron," Gaelen fumed.
    "Calm down, Gaelen," Hydrospok said.
    "We've got to go after them."
    "Let's see what Captain Harrison thinks about this first."


WHAT WILL SHE THINK?
JUST HOW HORRIBLE _IS_ PLANET GLOOM?
WHY IS TVANIR ACTING SO ODDLY?
WILL ORLISS'S VACATION BE BORING?  OR WILL HE SOMEHOW BECOME INVOLVED IN
    ONE OF THE OTHER PLOTLINES?
WHY ELSE WOULD HE BE IN THIS STORY?

SFSTORY:  Bringing in not only da noise, but da funk as well.

--
Copyright 1996 David Menendez
=========================================================================
Date:         Sat, 10 Aug 1996 01:16:53 -0400
Reply-To:     UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender:       UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From:         David Menendez (dmm264 at PSU.EDU)
Subject:      SF: Starcruiser Anonymous #3

Abgila VII is a cold gas giant, moving in a long, slow orbit far from its
sun.  At the time of this story, it is also quite far from any other planet
in its system, which is why Supreme Captain-Commander Kvasha of the Zakavian
Imperial Military Aggregate chose the planet for the EDIT Project.
    Another advantage of Abgila VII, at least from the perspective of those
working in the EDIT Project, was that Kvasha was unable to personally check
up on the project very often, which gave them the ability to make needed
decisions without consulting him.  However, they still made certain to send
regular reports.
    Kvasha looked at the report on his desk and smiled.  "Excellent," he
said, possibly to the listening devices he was certain were in his room.
"The project is proceeding on schedule _and_ under budget...."  A thought
occurred to him and he looked at the budget report again.  "Although I'm not
sure why they need such a large amount for 'snacks'.  Ah well," he mused,
"Soon it will be complete, and then nothing will stand before Zakav!"  He
pressed a button on his computer terminal and pre-recorded diabolical
laughter filled the room.

                            -------------------

                           STARCRUISER ANONYMOUS

                            (A Tale of Sfstory)

                                 Episode 3
                       Wherein Blue Squadron Awakens
                                    and
                          Lots of Plans Get Made
                                    by
                               Dave Menendez

                            -------------------

Consciousness returned slowly to the members of Blue Squadron -- possibly
afraid that sudden movements might startle Thomas Dent into a fit of violent
activity.  Their leader, Roger Vasta, was the first to regain speech.  "All
right, people," he began, "how is everyone?"
    The others mumbled that they were fine.  It was a credit to Vasta that
he understood.
    "All right," he began, "we seem to have been taken captive on some alien
craft.  Dent, are you still armed?"
    "I haven't had a chance to check, sir," Dent said, still tired.
    Dixon snorted.  "Why bother checking?  They're obviously much more
powerful than we are.  We're probably just being kept alive for some
horrible purpose anyway."
    "Hey," McCurry chided, "just being prisoners on an unknown, alien
spacecraft's no reason to be depressed."
    "Are you kidding?" Kadar demanded.  "It's a _perfect_ reason to be
depressed."
    "Hey, just look on the bright side.  We're going where no human has gone
before.  We're leaving the solar system, casting away the bonds of Sol."
    "One, we're _not_ the first.  The star shuttle _Challenger II_ was
launched almost a decade ago.  Two, I'd be a lot more happy about leaving
Sol if I was going by my own choice."
    McCurry considered that.  "Do you think the _Anonymous_ knows what
happened yet?" he asked Vasta.
    "I don't know," he replied.
    "If we'd been sending a continuous video feed back they'd've seen what
happened," Kadar commented.  The others considered that.  (Actually, McCurry
was trying to figure out if "they'd've" was a legal construction, but we
won't get into that.)
    "Well," Vasta said, breaking the silence, "no use crying over spilled
milk.  Dent?"
    "Huh?" Dent asked, shaken out of his daydreaming.
    "Are you armed?"
    "No, sir.  They must have taken my weapons."
    "How clever of them," Kadar commented.
    "Hey, if I were taking _them_ prisoner, I'd take _their_ weapons,"
McCurry protested.
    "Um ... so?"
    "Well, it's not like, you know, ... well, never mind."
    Another pause.
    "Where do you suppose we're going?" Dent asked.
    ((Planet Gloom,)) replied a new, electronically filtered voice.
    "Gaaah!" added Dent, startled into a fit of violent activity, which
proves consciousness isn't as stupid as you might think.  However, the
speaker was some distance off, and Dent managed to calm down before he could
injure himself on the speaker's combat armor.
    "Who are you?" asked Vasta, voicing the question on everyone's mind
(well, except for the armored figure, who already knew the answer).
    ((I am Guard-Lieutenant Vtami of the Zakav Eighth Fleet.))
    "Why have we been captured?"
    ((The Guards are not privileged with such information.))
    "Figures," muttered Kadar.
    "So who are you?" asked McCurry.
    ((As I said, I am--))
    "No, no.  Not you, the Zakavs"
    ((Zakavians.  Actually, there are no Zakavians, we're an ... alliance of
two peoples, the Caphanites and the Blargoloids.  I am Blargoloid.  By that
token, what are _you_ called?))
    "Humans," replied Vasta.
    "Terrans," suggested Dent at about the same time.
    "We can also go with 'Earthling'," added McCurry.
    "Earthling?  That always sounded so stupid," said Dixon.
    "I think Terran has a nice ring to it," said Dent.
    "I don't see what's wrong with Human," protested Vasta.
    "As long as we don't go with Earthling, I'm fine," declared Dixon.
    McCurry shrugged, "_I_ liked Earthling."
    Again they lapsed into silence.
    "So," Dent said, "is Terran all right with everyone?"
    "Whatever," said Vasta.
    "Fine with me," added Kadar.
    McCurry and Dixon nodded and shrugged, respectively.
    "Great," smiled Dent.  "We are called Terrans."
    ((Fine,)) replied Vtami.  None of the Terrans were certain if they
detected an amused tone through all that filtering.  ((I'll let you know
when we arrive,)) and with that, Vtami left.
    After a few moments, McCurry spoke up.  "Seems to be a rather nice
person, considering."
    "Sure," Dent agreed, "for a representative of an unknown race that's
abducted us against our will."
    "Is it possible to abduct someone in accordance with their will?" Vasta
asked.
    "Shut up, McCurry."
    "Hey!" McCurry protested.  "The Boss said it, not me."
    "Sorry, it just seemed like something you'd say.

                                 *   *   *

"So," Orliss said, barely catching the attention of Horlun and Amne who were
watching the news and reading "Sullen Rebel" magazine, respectively, "do you
think we could do something outside of the city?"
    Neither answered at first, but then an Horlun looked up.  "We could go
on a road trip."
    "To where?" Anme asked.  "_This_ is the most interesting place on
Foobarh."
    "What, this apartment?" Orliss asked.
    Anme rolled her eyes.  "No.  This city."
    "Oh."
    Horlun looked at Anme, a gleam in his eye.  "Who says we have to go
somewhere on Foobarh?" he asked her.
    Anme, looking somewhat confused, replied with another question:  "How
would we get off planet?  You're not suggesting...."
    "I am.  You think your father would lend us his Finstar?"
    "You _know_ I don't get along with him.  He's a boring, upper-class
stooge, and I'm pretty sure he uses his wealth and influence to oppress the
masses."
    "So, would he?"
    "Couldn't we just take a tourist trip?  I've heard of a guy who can get
us tickets to Barbados, Planet of Physical Delights, for only a
five-thousand percent markup."
    Horlun refused to be diverted.  "Would he lend us the Finstar?"
    "Well ... probably."
    "Great!  You ask him, and then we can decide where to go."
    Amne sighed, and walked into the next room where Horlun kept his
communications equipment (which, for all intents and purposes, was a
telephone, but we can't refer to an alien device by such a mundane title).
    Horlun looked at Orliss.  "Great idea, Orliss."
    "Well," Orliss said, "it sort of went further than I originally
intended.  I brought it up because there's a harvest festival in the next
district that sounded marginally interesting."
    "Oh. ... Well, I suppose we could--" Horlun broke off as Amne reentered.
"What'd he say?" he asked her.
    "He said we could use it, and offered us a credit line."
    Were it possible, dollar signs would have appeared in the others' eyes.
    "I turned him down, of course.  He can't buy _our_ respect."
    "D'oh!" chorused Orliss and Horlun.
    "It's not like we don't have money ourselves," Amne said.
    "Do you know how _expensive_ Barbados is?" Horlun demanded.
    "No."
    "Neither do I, really, but that's not important.  When can we pick it
up?"
    "Anytime we want, really."
    "We better start packing, then," Orliss said, standing up.
    "Shouldn't we decide where we're going first?" asked Horlun.
    "Nah.  Space heros just sort of make it up as we go along."
    "But you're just a student.  Couldn't we do a _little_ planning?" asked
Amne.
    Orliss merely grinned, which did little to reassure the others.

                                 *   *   *

The Peace and Light Bar & Grill was one of the smaller eating establishments
within walking distance of the Aroruan Palace, and was suffering from the
drop of palace-related tourism due to the Zakavian conquest.  The owners,
rather than lay off their serving staff (which would be tricky as they were
down to two per shift), had had to forgo those floor repairs they had been
thinking about.  Tels Garav, one of those two servers, walked over to a
small group that had been sitting, talking, and not really buying that much.
Hopefully, he could coax another purchase out of them, otherwise he would
have to throw them out -- which he didn't look forward to, as some of them
looked quite strong and possibly violent.  As he walked up to them, he heard
them talking, and became reluctant to interrupt their conversation.
    "...no, Bentor, I don't think blowing up our own outposts would be very
effective,"  a vaguely familiar woman was saying.
    A man, presumably Bentor, started to talk, then looked up and saw Garav.
"Hello?" he asked, looking irritated.
    "Um," Garav said, forgetting the appropriate phrase.  "How is everything
here?"
    "We're _fine_," Bentor said.  "We just want to sit and talk.  _Alone_."
    "I'm afraid that if you don't buy anything I'll have to ask you to
leave."
    The four looked at him, then at each other.  Finally the woman said,
"how about some water?"
    "But that's free."
    "_Expensive_ water."
    "Oh.  I suppose I could bottle some water and charge you."
    "That works."
    "Right."  Garav turned to leave, then stopped.  "By the way," he said,
"you aren't plotting to overthrow the new Zakavian regime, are you?"
    They stared.  "Sit down," Bentor said.  Garav did so.  "What do you
know?"
    "Nothing, really."
    "I see."
    Garav didn't think he could respond to that, so he waited.  Eventually,
the woman turned to him.  "How'd you like to join an illegal organization?"
she asked.
    Garav considered that.  "I don't know.  I'd rather join you guys."
    She blinked.  "Right.  Welcome to the People's League of Arorua."
    "Aroruan People's League," Bentor corrected.
    "Whatever.  These are Bentor, Vaalte, and Canto.  You may call me
Cinta."
    "I'm Garav," Garav said.  "Do you know you look just like Princess El--"
    "_Quiet!_" Bentor shouted.  The other customers looked at him.  One, a
Blargoloid officer, stood up.
    "Waiter," he said, "perhaps you could serve the customers rather than
talking with them?"
    Garav stood up, defiant.  He was dimly aware of the others standing as
well.  "Yeah?  Well, you tell your bosses that the Aroruans are fed up and
we're not! gonna! take it anymore!"  He slammed his fist down on the table,
which caused it to smash through the floor and into the basement, taking
most of the Aroruan People's League with it.

                                 *   *   *

Rick Hydrospok, leader of the Green Squadron, entered the Pilots' lounge and
walked over to his team.  He looked tired, as if he'd just been in a meeting
with several officers far above him in the Scale o' Authority.  Oddly
enough, he _had_ just been in such a meeting, so he was looking forward to
talking with people below him for a change of pace.  "Ahoy, me hearties," he
said in greeting, which earned him quite a few odd looks.  "What say ye to a
grand voyage?"
    "You mean they approved the plan?" Gaelen asked.
    "And what's with the pirate accent?" Daniels added.
    Losar and Winters said nothing, as they were off playing scrabble with
two members of the Black Squadron and hadn't heard the conversation thus
far.
    "Yes, and I don't know, respectively," Hydrospok answered.  "Let's get
the others and head off to the hangars.  We've got to set up the ship."
    "You think we should pack first?" asked Daniels.
    "Oh.  I guess that's a good idea, since we'll be out on what's
essentially a wild goose chase for an indefinite period of time, and all."
    "I can see the logic in that."
    "Right.  Green Squadron:  prepare to pack!"
    His loyal troops (the half that were present, anyway) exchanged a look
and sighed.

The ship chosen for this mission was larger than the still-unnamed escort
fighter until recently used by the Blue Squadron.  The technicians who had
figured out its basic control systems had given its class the extremely
descriptive name of "Sub-Capital Support Interceptor".  They had also
written a manual for its use, which had finally ended up about the size and
shape of the chief technician's edition of _The Complete Works of William
Shakespeare_. In fact, the technical crew liked to switch the two books as
a joke.  Truly, these were wild and crazy guys.
    Hydrospok looked at his new SCSI-class vessel and was filled with pride.
Whether it was pride about his ship or because he had snatched the
assignment from his rivals in the Black Squadron is somewhat unclear.
"Well," he said, "are we all ready?"
    "It looks like it," replied Commander Gerhardt, who was filling in for
Captain Harrison (who was busy receiving a report from the chief
investigator about a possible explanation for an odd prank which ended up
causing an actor portraying Hamlet to, in the first rehearsal, state that
"the Primary Power Couplings for the QuiteLarge Cannon [see inventory
A/326W] can be found behind panel 431C").  "Now, I know the six of you--"
    "Five, sir," Daniels interrupted.
    Gerhardt blinked and counted again.  "Right.  _Five_ of you have almost
no chance of finding the Blue Squadron, but hopefully you'll run into some
friendly aliens that can help you in your search.  Otherwise you're pretty
much doomed to an eternal, futile quest to find a moving target in an
immense galaxy.  Now go out there and give it all you got!"
    Green Squadron reacted to Gerhardt's pep talk with a collective,
open-mouthed stare.  Finally, Hydrospok spoke up.  "Right!  Green Squadron:
to the ship!"  Slowly, his band of elite pilots entered their new SCSI-class
vessel.
    "Hey," Daniels commented to Gaelen as they walked in, "what do you think
we should call this thing?"
    Gaelen smirked.  "How about the _Futility_?"


THE _FUTILITY_?
ISN'T THAT KIND OF A DEPRESSING NAME FOR A STARSHIP?
WILL THEY FIND BLUE SQUADRON?
OR WILL BLUE SQUADRON END UP ON PLANET GLOOM AND MEET THE EMPEROR?
WILL THE ARORUAN PEOPLE'S LEAGUE PUT UP AN EFFECTIVE FIGHT?
WILL ALL THEIR ACTIONS BE SO HARD ON THE FLOOR?
WILL CAPTAIN HARRISON EVER GET AN ACTUAL SPEAKING PART?  I MEAN, SHE'S ONE
    OF THE FEW CHARACTERS THAT WAS MENTIONED IN THE PROLOGUE THAT DIDN'T DIE
    MYSTERIOUSLY.  FOR THAT MATTER, WHAT ABOUT EMPEROR VAKAZ?
ON THE OTHER HAND, DO WE REALLY NEED MORE CHARACTERS AT THIS POINT?

SFSTORY:  Void Where Prohibited.

--
Copyright 1996 David Menendez

Author's Note:  There is a reason I'm sending this out now, rather than
waiting until Monday when I usually release these.  Simply put, I'm going
to be away from the 'net for one or two weeks.  Normally I would have just
saved this until I got back, but this episode's ending turned out to be
perfect for a brief pause so I decided to send it out.

More importantly, I have switched mail accounts to (dmm264 at psu.edu).  (I
realise this would be more pressing if anyone ever sent me mail, but....)

-- Dave