SF: HMS Golden Lance #26 - New Weaseloid Order, Part 1

Sun Aug 1 10:16:51 PDT 2004

SF: HMS Golden Lance #26 - New Weaseloid Order, Part 1

Previously on SFSTORY...

"Time Agent 357, I rescued you and Omegas because I need your help.
My experimental ABPSARII has been stolen by Greez Hyperiok."

"The Automatic Beet Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-integrator Mark II is a
miniature interdimensional and time travel device combined with a
highly efficient search engine.  It can grant literally any wish."

"The ring is a combination of god-like alien power, ancient magic,
ultramodern superscience, and a few components that Ralph had picked
up at the local Radio Shack."

"The Zipper-Locked (tm) protective field of the Planet of the
Supermarkets is interfering with the ABPSARII's ability to process
SPAM.  If I read this right, it only has enough power to grant one
more request.  One.  Uno.  Single."

"Good job, Ralph!  Using your ring to steal the ABPSARII from Greez
Hyperiok was a stroke of genius.  Now we need to...  Hey!  Just what
do you think you're doing with that?"

And now, on SFSTORY...

Time Agent 357 shook his head violently, almost as if he were shaking
off the effects of being present when an entire universe was reshaped
into a completely new reality, which describes exactly what he was
shaking off at that moment.

"Mes amies, we are zoe hap-py that you have zurvive-ed!" said the
furry monster who had just helped him to his feet.  Said furry monster
was wearing a shirt with horizontal red and white stripes.  An
eyepatch covered one eye.  His whiskers curled at the ends.  A ragged
ear poked out from one side of his head.  The other ear was covered by
a red beret worn at a jaunty angle.  He smiled a smile that was
missing several teeth.  "You have just been rescued by zee Ferretine
Underground Resistance!"

"I think you said that before," 357 mumbled.  Ferretine Underground
Resistance, he considered to himself.  "FUR?"

"Not FUR, ma bon amie, FEW!"

"FEW?"

"Ferretine Entergrund We-sis-dance," the furry thing repeated,
allowing his accent to get the better of him.  "The few, the proud,
the...  well, the FEW."

"Ah," said 357 as he and his three companions made the necessary
mental, mechanical, and electronic adjustments to filter out the worst
of the accent.

Being reminded of his three companions reminded 357 of his three
companions, who were themselves currently being helped to their feet
by other furry woodland creatures.  "Is everybody all right?"

"Quite well," answered Omegas, a former all-powerful streetwise
servant of Heaven who was not going to let a little thing like a
universe being ripped to shreds around him make him lose his cool.

"Still in one piece," answered Diana Dark, a sweet innocent girl from
Chicago, or at least as sweet and innocent as anyone from Chicago can
be, confident that no harm would come to her as long as she was 357's
girlfriend.  And as long as the Author's girlfriend continued to
identify with her and refused to let him write her out of the series.

"Garfle phlox menglen figgle," answered Doctor Bing Von Spleen, the
galaxy's fourmost (because he killed the other three) Spamologist and
quite possibly the only one who understood exactly what they had just
lived through and how lucky they were to be alive.  Although he was
not quite completely unmanned by fear, it was a near thing.

=I think he just said he picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue,=
came a sexy yet irritatingly nasal feminine voice from the vicinity of
357's wristcomp, which he always wore but was never mentioned as it
never became necessary to the plot before now.  =By the way, I'm fine,
though I can't seem to contact the main VAL9000 synthetic intelligence
on the HMS Golden Lance.  It's almost as if the ship doesn't exist.=

"Carry on as best you can, Val," 357 said distractedly as he hugged
Diana to him and took another look at their furry hosts.  They were
weaseloids, he suddenly remembered from the end of last chapter, which
felt like it was a year ago instead of just a few seconds ago.

The one speaking to him now was a particularly scruffy-looking
specimen, although they all looked as if it had been months since
their last flea-dip.

"I am Jean-Perrier," he said with just a hint of accent.  "We were
lucky to rescue you.  Emperor Ralph's Science Squad would have had you
in minutes."

"Emperor Ralph?" asked Time Agent 357.

"Science Squad?" asked Diana Dark.

"Beer?" asked Doctor Bing Von Spleen.

Jean-Perrier rolled his single eye and explained.  "Beer is plentiful.
Here, have one.  The Science Squad is a group of weasels equipped with
super scientific inventions which they use to track down and capture
anyone entering this universe from another.  Emperor Ralph is the
undisputed king of this reality."

"If he's the king," Omegas asked, "then why is he called emperor?"

"Copyright considerations," answered Jean-Perrier absently as he
looked over the group.  He was rather shocked at how quickly they
were depleting his beer supply.

These were heroes?

"Perhaps I'd best explain from the beginning," he began.

And he did.

He explained how the universe suddenly shifted overnight.  How it went
from being dominated by hominids to being dominated by weaseloids.
How suddenly it was ruled by Emperor Ralph.  And how a select few
people seemed to know that this change came about literally overnight,
even though it seemed to everyone else that this was the way it had
always been and there had been no change at all.  Jean-Perrier had
been one of the few, and thus had founded the FEW to overthrow Emperor
Ralph and restore the universe to its natural order.

But how?

Some of the older ferrets remembered a badger who used to know a stoat
who, in the end, would lead them to an otter who remembered hearing of
Emperor Ralph back when he was known simply as the Giant Space Weasel
of Anthrax V.  This reminded a polecat of the HMS Golden Lance and her
crew, which lead to Jean-Perrier and his weaseloid band being onhand
when they appeared in this universe.

Quite simple, no?

"No," answered Diana.  "If this is our Ralph, he not only has a Least
Great Ring of Unholy Power (+8 to AC), but he also has the only known
working Automatic Beet Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-integrator Mark II,
which makes him effectively a god.  How can your little band have
survived all this time?"

"We're just too smart for him," answered Jean-Perrier smugly.

"He just doesn't care," answered a wolverine in the back.  "Aside from
keeping tabs on incoming extra-dimensional travelers, he lets us do
pretty much anything we want as long as nobody gets hurt and not too
many people complain."

"So, you're not, like, outcasts from society, hiding in the shadows
and scrounging out a living from what other people throw away?"

"Oh, heavens no!  We just dress up like this to feel the part, though
most of us do tend to skimp on bathing when our wives aren't around.
We're normal, well-adjusted weaseloids.  All of us have normal jobs.
I, for example, work in a comic book store.  We're all just regular
guys.  Except for Jean-Perrier; he thinks he's in Les Miserables."

Jean-Perrier answered with a weaseloid Elvis sneer.  "Regardless, now
that we have the legendary Time Agent 357 and his companions, we can
finally implement...  Drum roll, please...  The MASTER PLAN!"

One of the other weaseloids kicked the drums away from the otter.  "I
told you to cut that out!"

"What master plan?" 357 asked, tossing back just one more beer.

Jean-Perrier explained "Emperor Ralph is holed up in his impregnable
fortress, cowering in fear..."

"Living in the lap of luxury," the stoat interjected.

"Regardless, we have discovered that under the proper conditions, his
impregnable fortress is actually quite... um... pregnable?"

"What conditions?" Diana Dark asked.

"There's a back way in," answered the otter, stowing away his drums.
"But it's booby-trapped.  First, there's an electronic minefield which
can only be traversed and deactivated by someone with incredible
agility and acrobatic talent."

Diana wasn't listening, but rather was amusing herself by doing
reverse handsprings off the girders in the roof.

"Then there's a biolectric energy field, which can only be entered and
dissolved by someone with inate abilities rivaling Ralph's Least Great
Ring of Unholy Power (+8 to AC)."

Omegas paid no attention, intent on frightening juvenile weaseloids
scampering around his feet with the gigavolt electrical discharge he
was passing between his hands.

"The temporal maze can only be solved by someone of unusual
intelligence with centuries of practical experience with time travel."

Time Agent 357 stopped filling out MENSA applications long enough to
shine the "300 Years Exceptional Service" medal he had recently
received from the Interstellar Time Police.

"The innermost door has an electronic combination lock which will
sound an alarm unless we have a computer which can try entering all
3x10^17 combinations within seven seconds."

On 357's wrist, the VAL9000 wristcomp beeped and buzzed happily to
herself as she generated random numbers.

"And finally, a micro-fine soporific gas, capable of seeping past any
breathing mask we can create, is circulated through the corridors.
Only someone who can function while completely stoned can reach the
ventilation controls and vent the gas."

Doctor Bing Von Spleen wasn't listening.  Instead, he was showing some
of the female weaseloids how he could play darts even after
demolishing the beer supply.

The various weaseloids looked at each other.  "To Hell(tm) with all
this exposition!" one exclaimed.  "Just grab them!  I'm sure they'll
figure it out somewhere along the way."

After Diana Dark had traversed and deactivated the electronic
minefield, Omegas had entered and dissolved the biolectric energy
field, Time Agent 357 had solved and passed through the temporal maze,
the VAL9000 wristcomp had tried all 3x10^17 combinations and opened
the lock in 6.97 seconds, and Doctor Bing Von Spleen had reached the
control panel and vented all the soporific gas to deep space (though
he naturally kept a few bottles for himself)...

The crew of the HMS Golden Lance, for which this serial is named, and
their weaseloid companions were immediately arrested by the army of
weaseloid soldiers whose barracks they had just gone through all that
trouble to break into.  They were then dumped unceromoniously in
front of a tall throne.

On that throne sat Emporer Ralph, Undisputed King of this Reality,
formerly known as the Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V.

"Hello, old friends," he said warmly.  "Have fun storming the castle?"

Jean-Perrier strode forward.  "Emporer Ralph, we accuse you of crimes
against the proper functioning of Time, Space, and Spam.  In the name
of the Ferretine Underground Resist-YIKES!"

Jean-Perrier found himself lifed up and hurled across the throne room,
landing in a quivering heap in the far corner.  He immediately leapt
up, ready to resume his rant, but suddenly found himself bound and
gagged as if by magic.  Ralph had barely gestured a paw at him.

357 stepped forward.  "Not very tolerant of dissenting opinion, are
you?  I remember a time when you would happily debate anything for
hours on end."

Ralph smiled again.  "357, I _have_ debated with Jean-Perrier and his
band for years.  Do you think this is the first time they've breached
my fortress and confronted me here?  Do you think this is the first
time they've recruited you to help them?  They do this fairly
regularly.  Their pathetic attempts help alleviate the boredom of
being the all-powerful ruler of a perfect universe."

A stoat pushed forward.  "You mean, you're not going to execute us?"

"Heavens and Hell(tm) no!" Ralph exclaimed.  "I'm just going to alter
your memories so you remember none of this and send you back to your
lives.  Yet again.  I'm sure you'll come up with a new plan in a week
or so.  You always do."

"We do this every week?" a muskrat asked incrediously.

"Of course.  It keeps you occupied and, as I mentioned before, it
keeps me amused."

Before anyone else could say anything, Ralph gestured, his Least Great
Ring of Unholy Power (+8 to AC) glowing faintly.  The Automatic Beet
Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-integrator Mark II (ABPSARII) appeared in his
lap, looking like nothing else so much as an archaic computer
keyboard.  "Shift F7," he incanted as he called up a macro that caused
every weaseloid in the throne room other than himself to disappear.

"So," Ralph said pleasantly to the crew of the HMS Golden Lance.
"Want to chat for a while before I send you back as well?"

"We've been through this before, too?" Spleen asked.

"Many times," Ralph answered.  "Although usually they just recruit
Time Agent 357 and occasionally Diana.  In the past, when the whole
team has joined in, one or more of you has always died in the attempt.
I think this is the first time you've all made it this far.
Congratulations are in order.  And a memo to make the challenges
harder next time."

"There won't be a next time," Omegas said darkly.

"You say that _every_ time," Ralph answered just as darkly.

A weaseloid soldier stuck his head into the throne room just long
enough to report "Emporer Ralph, our fleet in galaxy 2247 reports
they've had to retreat.  The rebels are on their way here.  Our
defenses are useless against them."

"So much for being the all-powerful ruler of a perfect universe," 357
said scornfully.

"Puh-lease," Ralph yawned, keying up another macro on the ABPSARII.
"I have dozens of galaxies in revolt at any given time.  It keeps the
malcontents content, knowing that they're fighting against the
establishment, and it gives the more patriotic weaseloids a chance to
die for king and country.  Of course, I make sure that nobody notices
that nobody actually dies in any of the battles."

Ralph punched a few more buttons.  "You see, I've created a perfect
situation here.  Weaseloids are no longer the downtrodden underclass
of the Multiverse.  Anyone who wants to live out their life blissfully
in peace is free to do so.  Anyway who wants to fight and struggle
every day is free to do so.  Even misfit bands of would-be Time Heroes
have a place in the grand scheme.  Perfect."

Ralph held his paw over the ENTER key.  "And now, I'm afraid, this
is the point where one of you usually tries to attack me, so we're
going to have to cut this conversation short."

Emporer Ralph sat camly on his throne, paw held over the ENTER key of
the ABPSARII, ready to reset the universe as soon as one of his
one-time companions attempted to attack him.  Would it be 357 and his
telechronal displacement pistol this time?  Would Diana Dark expertly
attack using her martial arts skills?  Would Doctor Bing Von Spleen
use his inside knowledge of the ABPSARII to try to sabotage the reset?
Would the VAL9000 wristcomp, uncharacteristically silent during this
exchange, try something?  Or would Omegas simply attack with what he
thought was overwhelming force?

Ralph never knew for sure what would happen.  He kept this part of his
universe random, just so he would never get bored.

What will happen?
Will 357 attack with his telechronal displacement pistol?
Will Diana Dark expertly attack using her martial arts skills?
Will Doctor Bing Von Spleen sabotage the reset?
Will VAL9000 try something?
Or will Omegas attack with overwhelming force?

Find out the answers to these, and maybe a few other questions, in
Part 2 of The New Weaseloid Order.  Only in...  SFSTORY!