SF: Universal Solvents #25 *series finale*

[Gary W. Olson]

                         UNIVERSAL SOLVENTS
                        (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                             Episode 25
                               "Gold"
                         (the series finale)
                                 by
                            Gary W. Olson

                                -~-_-

     The world around Bing Von Spleen seemed more-or-less the same as
it had been, but he immediately saw that it was not.  The verdant
forest around him was undamaged, and mighty trees--which only hours
ago he had seen broken to pieces by the titanic cosmic energies
expended by Zark Flyby--stood tall and proud.  The sky was a slightly
darker shade of blue, and held more clouds.  An asp was considering
his exposed thigh, something he was quite sure had not been the case
only a few seconds ago.
     "Yipes!" he exclaimed, as the last fact sunk belatedly into his
consciousness.  An instant before the asp lunged, he jumped back,
twisted in midair, and hit the ground running.  The remains of his
fruit-rollup cloak fluttered behind him as he streaked (in multiple
senses) through the trees.
     As he ran, he considered recent events.  He had been in a
clearing with Toni Williams and a large number of other combatants on
planet Zeta Ricola Beta in the battle to prevent the Breaking of the
Fast at the Dawn of the Universe.  Through a slew of spectacularly
contrived and unlikely happenings, combined with willful stupidity of
cosmic magnitude, that event had indeed been prevented, and the
energies prophesized as the doom of the universe were capped.  The
device that powered so many of those contrived, unlikely, and stupid
happenings, the ABPSARI (somehow changed into a wetvac), had been in
his hands, and he had started to shift it into 'safe mode' in
preparation for the erratic device's deconstruction.  Then Lucky, the
six-foot-tall-at-the-shoulder mutant black cat that had eaten one of
the authors of the drama--the ur-bagel Shoonma--horked up said ur-
bagel right into the ABPSARI nozzle.  The ABPSARI transformed into an
asp, of all things, and it and Von Spleen had been consumed in a
flash... and wound up here.
     'Here' seemed to Von Spleen likely to be planet Zeta Ricola
Beta, though not of the time he had only recently inhabited.  As a
semi-regular voyager with time travelers such as 357, he was not
particularly fazed by this realization, though he was considerably
annoyed.  Past or future, it would be a challenge to find a way
offworld, to someplace with decent food, clean clothes, and quality
mind-altering substances.
     He looked over his shoulder, and emitted another yelp.  The
ABPSARI-asp was slithering through the foliage after him, moving at
speeds he was almost sure snakes were not known for achieving.  Why
it should be fixated on him, he did not know... although, as the
Earth's foremost Spamologist, it might have been because of all the
Spamological radiation he had been exposed to over the years.  He
resolved that he was not so curious about the answer as to stop
running, and in fact picked up his pace.
     Moments later, Von Spleen burst into a broad clearing, in which
rested a silver starship that was about thirty-five yards long from
nozzle to thrusters.  Its landing ramp was down, and two figures near
it stood conversing, oblivious to his approach.  One figure was
short, grey, wore gold robes, and had a face that bore a strong
resemblance to that of Freddie Prinze Jr.  The other was a heavyset
man in a retro-gold-and-black spacesuit, who looked only vaguely
familiar.
     Von Spleen didn't pause to identify the figures, as he was too
busy sprinting past them and up the ramp.
     "Hey!" the space-suited man exclaimed.  "You can't go in there!
I, Baconos, future overlord of the universe, forbid i--*gaaaaaaaah!*"
     "Sssss," said the asp-ABPSARI, as it removed its fangs from
Baconos's right calf.  It appeared dazed, as if it had run into the
Space Villain by accident, and had reflexively bitten him.  The other
figure, who Von Spleen now recognized as a younger version of Sark
Flyby--one of the rulers of Zeta Ricola Beta in the future he had
come from--took several brisk steps back.
     Before the asp could resume its pursuit, Baconos expressed his
displeasure by shooting it with his DIESCUM laser pistol.  The
ABPSARI vanished in a neutron haze.
     Von Spleen, peering around the edge of the hatch, watched as
Baconos looked up to consider him.  When Baconos toppled onto the
grass, nearly landing on Sark, Von Spleen decided he had seen enough,
and pushed the 'close hatch' button.  He then went to the cockpit and
pushed a sequence of 'launch the ship and get the hell out of here'
buttons.
     As the blue haze of the sky was replaced by the starry darkness
of outer space, he contemplated his future, which now, it seemed,
included roughly forty years of his past.  He'd have to avoid himself
for those forty years, to avoid causing paradoxes and/or explosions
of his person(s).  But that would be easy enough.  All he had to do
was think of where to go first, and where would be a good place to
hide during times when he might otherwise run into himself...
     (Which pretty much worked out for the next forty years, up until
the events of the HMS Golden Lance series, in which the now-elderly
Von Spleen (or just 'Spleen', as he signed his last name by then) got
re-involved in many exciting semi-heroic exploits despite himself.)

                                -~-_-

     Still on Zeta Ricola Beta, but back in the 'current' time (i.e.
less than half a day after the end of Universal Solvents #24),
Captain Steve Vogel stood on the deck of the earth ship _Challenger
III,_ watching two vessels depart on the main viewscreen.  One was a
Ford Pinto, a converted-for-interstellar-travel vehicle owned by a
couple of Interstellar University senior students.  The other was a
decidedly shoddy and rusty saucer-shaped craft bearing the name W.S.
_Universal Solvent_.
     "Looks like they're on their way," said Toni Williams, the Space
Hero who had taken charge of the battle on Zeta Ricola Beta and
sorted out the aftermath with remarkable patience.  "I'm told that
repairs to your starship are also completed, and you can depart at
any time."
     "Ah, good," said Steve.  "I'm a bit surprised the _Universal
Solvent_ could still fly, given that its primary power source, the...
um..."
     "'The Fiber,'" Toni supplied.
     "The Fiber," Steve repeated.  "I'm surprised their ship can fly
without it.  Of course, going visually, I'm surprised it could fly
*with* it..."
     "We replaced the Fiber with a standard n-core Spam-pod," Toni
replied.  "Did some light reconfiguring of its power relays.  It
should last them a while."
     Steve nodded.  "It was... interesting, traveling with them.
Wonder what they're going to do next?"
     "Hard to say," said Toni.  "What are *you* going to do next, if
I may ask?"
     "The _Challenger III_ is returning to Earth," Vogel said.  "Buzz
Williams took care of Earth's 'Spammymon Z' problem for us, and now
that this excitement is done with, we have no reason to be out and
about."
     Just then, the turbolift doors opened, and four uniformed
figures spilled out, apparently in the midst of a high-speed chase
that had been only momentarily interrupted.
     "Stop that man!" exclaimed Captain Spaulding.  "He's committed
an act of treason!"
     "But I was just pretending I was taking pictures of the ship's
power plant!" Zeppus Coleslaw replied.  "Honest!"
     "That's'a why he'a said it was an act'a treason," Lt. Chicobaldi
scolded.  "If you wasn't'a acting, he would'a just called it'a
treason!"
     Lt. Zacko honked his horn and chased Zeppus about the bridge.
He then noticed Toni, and attempted to give chase to her, which she
managed to fend off by placing a firm hand against his forehead.
After letting him run in place for ten seconds, she spun Zacko around
and sent him running to the lift.  Chicobaldi and Zeppus followed.
Steve fumed, silently and effeminately.
     "It's been a pleasure seeing you again, my dear," said
Spaulding.  "Last time I saw you, you were this high."  He held out a
hand at waist level.  "Next time, lay off the drugs."  With a tip of
his cap, he raced to the lift, just before the doors closed.
     "I'm also looking forward to getting them off this ship," said
Vogel, after a heavy sigh.  "Fortunately, I was advised this morning
that their space station, Freedonia 5, is now fully repaired and is
being towed from the Moon to a La Grange point orbit around Earth."
     "I can see how that's a relief," Toni answered.
     The lift door opened again, this time disgorging Cmdr. Jean St.
Thomas, Buzz Williams, Kalvin Certain, Lucky, Megabot, and an elderly
man in a retro-futuristic silver jumpsuit.  The energy shackles
around his wrists indicated the old man was a prisoner, but unlike
fellow prisoner Kalvin, whose wrists were also shackled, the old man
seemed in high spirits, and was animatedly conversing with Buzz
Williams.  Jean St. Thomas seemed markedly annoyed, however, and
split off from the group as soon as she could.
     "They're ready to transfer back to the Time Police vessel
_Zenyetta Mondatta_," she said, as Lucky padded over to his spot next
to the captain's chair and settled down.  Then she lowered her voice.
"Now, sir, please.  I don't think I can take another old story from
those two."
     "What?" Toni asked.
     "I was just getting to the part about the giant fire ants of
Raknos Six," said the old man.  "I... oh, hello, Captain, I don't
believe we've met.  I'm Satik."
     "A Sonar Man?" asked Steve.
     "Quite," Satik replied.  "I was just telling your Commander
about a particular time I was trying to kill Buzz Williams, here,
back... oh, several decades, I think..."
     "Twenty-eight years," Williams supplied, as he scratched his
chin in thought.  "Right after I nearly caught you helping the Space
Pirates of the Chartreuse Nebula..."
     "I don't remember... wait.  Was that where I tried to feed you
to the Giant Basset Hound of Arctos?"
     "No, that was a year before... I think..."
     "I'm quite ready to get out of here," said Kalvin Certain.  "In
fact, I'm not sure I wouldn't object to just being beamed into space
at this point."
     "Nonsense!" said Buzz, clapping Certain on his back.  "You
haven't even heard how Satik and I ended up having to form a
temporary alliance to fight off the rise of Death Lord Randlak's Frog-
Yams on Beta Targon.  You want to be a Space Villain, after all, and
how're you going to do that if you don't have a good grounding in the
history of Space Villainy?"
     Kalvin responded by making small strangulated sounds and
shutting his eyes.
     "Mr. Satik," said Steve, "I understand it's you we have to thank
for the Time Police arriving in the nick of time to save this ship?"
     "Right, right," Satik replied.  "After those fellows, Ronald and
Norman, and their Space Ingenue... Kissy, was it?... yes... after
they were captured by this fellow's 'Team E' henchmen...'  He tilted
his head at Kalvin Certain.  "...well, they'd left their spacegoing
Pinto on the space station we were on.  That whole mini-adventure we
had in capturing them was the last straw for me.  I was done working
in the sales shop for those arrogant young fools that Sonar Men are
these days!  So I tracked down the Pinto, hotwired it, and took off,
determined to recapture my glory days!"
     "So what happened?" asked Toni.
     "He was red-flagged by the security system on Talmot's
Asteroid," Buzz noted.  "They reported his capture to the Time
Police, I came out to take him in, and heard his story.  From that
and the information Toni relayed to me over the past year, I
immediately deduced where everyone was headed--that is, here--and
assembled a Time Police fleet."
     "I'd had some prunes and fiber just before Ronald and Norman
showed up," Satik explained, looking somewhat sheepish.  "And the
Pinto's waste facility was both distasteful and... er, offline.  So I
had to stop somewhere."
     "Speaking of stopping somewhere," Kalvin interjected, "may we go
now?  I've never looked forward to a solitary cell so much."
     "Satik's just with us temporarily," Buzz explained.  "Our
bargain was his information for his freedom.  We'll drop him off at
the trade station on Cephelos IV."  A smile then lifted his wrinkly
cheeks up.  "Until then, though, he'll have the solitary cell next to
you, Mr. Certain.  I'll be down, of course, to talk some more about
the old days..."
     Kalvin absorbed this news, and responded by making more tiny
strangulated sounds.
     "Everyone ready, then?" Toni asked.  Buzz and Satik nodded.
Kalvin grunted.  She turned to Steve.  "Goodbye, Captain Vogel.
Hopefully we'll meet again soon."
     "The pleasure's mine," Steve replied, in a tone he hoped was
more suave than effeminate.  He then stepped back as Toni tapped her
wrist-transceiver.
     "_Zenyetta Mondatta,_" Toni said.  "Four to transmat, identified
by beacons.  Acknowledge."
     "Acknowledged," came the reply.  Toni, Satik, Buzz, and Kalvin
then gradually disappeared from the bridge in a haze of cheap-looking
special effects.
     "Well, then," said Steve, after a few moments silence.  "Time to
head to Earth, then."
     "Aye, sir," said Commander St. Thomas.  "Er, sir, what about..."
She finished by pointing to a space just behind Steve.
     "Lucky seems to have shown no ill effects from eating and then
tossing up an ur-bagel from the beginning of time," said Steve, as he
glanced at the massive shaggy pile of black fur.  Lucky paused in the
un-unseeable act of bathing himself long enough to give him a
disdainful snort.
     "I meant..."  She pointed again.
     Steve stifled an effeminate shout, having not realized that
Megabot was hovering so closely behind him.  The massive, menacing
red robot hummed as innocently as it could, its single crimson eye
slowly pulsing.
     "Er, yes," said Steve, rallying to take command of the
situation.  "Megabot.  I received your crew application.  I...
suppose, being down a good number of crewmembers, we do need a bit of
support in security."
     Megabot bobbed happily at the news.
     "So... um... Security Crew... bot Megabot," said Steve.
"Welcome aboard.  For your first task, um..."
     "Alert," chimed the _Challenger III's_ computer system.  "Floor
wax deployed on level 4.  Floor wax deployed on level 4.  All
personnel warned to be cautious."
     Steve grimaced, then looked at Jean St. Thomas.
     "Spaulding, I'll bet," he said.  St. Thomas nodded.  Steve
looked back up at Megabot.  "Right, then.  Your first task... subdue
Spaulding and his crew and sit on them until we're back in Earth
orbit and we can get them back to their space station."
     Megabot's head whirled--Steve presumed out of delight--and it
and the rest of the robot bolted for the lift.  As soon as Megabot
was gone, St. Thomas gave Steve a questioning look.
     "It'll keep both him and them busy," Steve said.  "I hope."
     She nodded.  "Orders, then, Captain?"
     "Time to head home," said Steve.
     "Alert," chimed the computer, "New security robot on level 4 has
been temporarily blinded by fire containment foam.  Do not approach
him or comment on how his foam has been sculpted to look like a
corset."
     "Past time," Steve added.
     "Oh, yes sir," Jean answered.

                                -~-_-

     Meanwhile, on the spacegoing Pinto, still in 'current' time (or,
as current as time can be in overly-hyped space) Ronald Hastings set
the Pinto's controls on automatic and leaned back in his seat.
     "Captain's log," Ronald said, while the computer cleverly
disguised as a battered stereo tape deck recorded his words.  "We
should be arriving at Time Police Academy in six hours, forty-one
minutes.  Our mission to rescue Commandant Zark Flyby was a
resounding success.  He is now comfortable and unconscious in the
trunk of this vehicle, with all traces of the earlier cosmic powers
he displayed gone.  Once the Commandant has been returned to Time
Police Academy, we will return to Interstellar University, where my
crew and I will turn in our report on the successful conclusion of
this Senior Project."
     The man in the passenger seat, a self-styled hero named Sajon,
glanced in the back seat.
     "Should your crew add anything to the report?" he asked.
     Ronald looked in his rear-view mirror.  In the Pinto's back
seat, his crew--a.k.a. his best friend, Norman Sassafras--was having
an earnest, whispered conversation with the space ingenue--Kissy
Hitowers--they'd hired to assist them at the start of the project.
Somehow, despite the general unlikelihood of the connection and the
specific disavowal that such a connection might even happen in the
contract they'd signed, romance had blossomed between Norman and
Kissy, a fact that Ronald regarded with absolutely no jealousy
whatsoever.
     "Er," said Sajon, "you're crushing your steering wheel."
     Ronald blinked, and removed his hands.  Sure enough, the parts
of the wheel where his hands had been were thinner and somewhat
mangled looking--which was more of an indicator of the quality of
Pinto parts than Ronald's hand strength.  He sighed.
     "It can be a frustrating life, being a Space Hero," said Ronald.
"I'm sure you can identify with that."
     "I'll say," Sajon answered.  "I don't suppose you know any cute
women at Interstellar University, do you?  After giving it some
thought, I've decided it's time to really apply myself to becoming a
Space Hero like you."
     Ronald experienced, at that moment, the new thrill of actually
being looked up to.  He gave his best, most Kirk-like grin before
replying.  "As it happens, I'm graduating soon, but if you're looking
for mentors, I think we can handle that.  Right, Norman?"
     "Hmmm?" asked Norman.  "Oh, um... sure."  He went back to
whispering.
     Just then, the Pinto violently shuddered.  The boring grey
expanse of overly-hyped space did not change, per se, but Ronald
thought he saw the Pinto's hood quiver.  Sajon saw it as well.
     "Um, looks like that came from the trunk," he said, as he looked
over the viewscreen built into what had been the glove box.  "Should
it be doing that?"
     The Pinto shuddered again.  Kissy screamed.
     "Kissy!" Norman exclaimed.  "It's all right!  Toni's engineer's
upgraded the trunk to hold a Mark VI U-SLEEP-NAO time dilation
capsule.  She figured just in case Zark's tranquilizers weren't
strong enough, it'd keep him from causing damage.  It's got to be
something else..."
     Kissy screamed.
     "Kissy!" Norman exclaimed.  "What is it?"
     Kissy blinked.  "Oh... I've just always found 'something else'
to be worth screaming about.  Professional instinct."
     Just then, 'something else' squirmed out from between the rear
seat cushions.  Kissy screamed, on principle.
     It was a small robot that resembled a wind-up toy.  As it
floated up and away from Kissy and Norman, it emitted a long series
of gleeps and squeaks.
     "Hi, TH1K1!" Sajon exclaimed, plucking the robot out of the air
and giving it a warm embrace.  TH1K1 added a low series of
electronic noises that, to Ronald, had a sort of ominous tone.
     "What's going on?" he asked.
     "TH1K1 must have been investigating what was causing the noises
back there," said Sajon.  "I'm sure he must have fixed i... uh oh."
     "Uh oh?" asked Ronald.
     "There's been a sort of... um... containment breach... thingie,"
said Sajon.  "Zark's kind of gotten... out."
     There was silence as everyone considered this news.
     A second later, there was ear-clutching as everyone who was not
Kissy tried to consider this news while avoiding being deafened by
Kissy's screams.
     Ronald thought... what would his hero, Captain James T. Kirk, do
in this situation?  Kissy would probably object to being made out
with, at least by him.  He couldn't get back into the trunk while the
Pinto was in overly-hyped space, and he strongly doubted that karate-
chopping Sajon or Norman would help matters, as tempting as it felt.
Shatner had always made it seem so *easy*...
     He paused.  *Shatner.*  Of *course!*
     "Computer!" he yelled.  "Activate emergency CD archive!
Playback area confined to Trunk Level!  William Shatner!  I am the
Walrus!"
     "Working," said a voice from the Pinto's stereo deck.  Moments
later, the mellifluous sounds of William Shatner singing "I am the
Walrus" drifted from the trunk.  Everyone who had removed their hands
from their ears immediately clapped them back again.
     More violent thumps came from the trunk.  Sajon watched the
readout, then said something.
     "What?" asked Ronald.  He risked removing a hand from his right
ear.
     "Zark has gone unconscious," Sajon said.  "I don't think his
mind could cope with the sheer atonality."
     "Computer," said Ronald, "volume down to one quarter level.
Return to previous level if subject in trunk shows signs of
consciousness."
     "This is Zark we're talking about," Kissy noted.
     "Okay," said Ronald.  "Signs of awakeness, then.  Got that,
computer?"
     "Affirmative."
     Sajon let out a sigh of relief.  TH1K1 let out a series of
squeals that Ronald could have sworn had a sour tone, as if the robot
had deliberately sabotaged the containment unit in an attempt to kill
them all--something Ronald knew could not be the case, given what a
good, loyal bot TH1K1 was.
     "Quick thinking, Ron," said Kissy.  "Zark could've easily
destroyed this craft."
     "That's right," Norman affirmed.  "Hey, you think we should get
those under-seat tele-transport modules we were talking about as a
backup safety system?  I know they're expensive, but..."
     "I think we should," Ronald agreed.  "With all the money we've
made in trading in pudding futures, we can easily upgrade the hell
out of this Pinto, or buy ourselves a real kickass starship."
     Norman grinned, then turned back to Kissy.  TH1K1 rested in a
cup holder, looking as if he was sulking about something.  Sajon
started humming a tuneless tune, prompting Ronald to put on the
radio.
     *sqlllrrrrk* "--in financial news, investors are panicking today
as pudding futures collapse on the interstellar trading exchanges,
wiping out fortunes in the blink of an eye.  News from the Zeta
Ricola Beta system confirms that, with the collapse of the governing
monastic authority, the system's control of the pudding market has
also collapsed, as former officials cashed in their shares to buy
legal representation--" *sqlllrrrrk*
     Silence reigned in the car for several moments.
     "I *do* hope the check you guys wrote me cleared," said Kissy.
     Ronald sighed.  "Computer... check our finances."
     "Working."  Computery sounds came from the stereo speakers for
six seconds.  "Last check cleared was check to Miss Hitowers."
     "Current balance, computer?"
     "Working."  More computery sounds ensued, but only silence
followed.
     "Computer?"
     "Laughing."  Computery sounds came.  "Ha ha ha ha ha."
     Ronald sighed.  Norman sighed.  TH1K1 perked up a bit.
     "I don't suppose," he said, "there's been a pickup in hiring of
Space Heroes, has there?"
     "Still laughing.  Ha ha ha."
     "Don't worry, Ron," said Norman.  "It could be worse.  Someone
could get the idea to completely reboot the Star Trek movie series,
overthrowing decades of continuity to show the Enterprise crew as a
bunch of twentysomethings who don't sweat all that heavy philosophy
stuff while they go around blasting enemies and getting undressed
around one another."
     Ronald and Norman shuddered at the very idea.
     "It'll never happen," said Ronald, glad there was at least one
constant in life he could hold on to.  He set the controls, leaned
his seat back a bit, and settled in for a nap.  The Pinto continued
flying through overly-hyped space toward its destination, and for a
time, all was well.

                                -~-_-

     Elsewhere, also in overly-hyped space in 'current' time, the
Warp Ship _Universal Solvent_ flew along, its n-core Spam Pod
efficiently and quietly converting Spam to power.  On the bridge, its
crew members were conducting an important ceremony, one that would
have important ramifications for the future.
     "You've got to find more credit chips!" Benjen insisted.  "How
are you going to gain entry to Madame Latrelle's House of Illicit
Ways to Abuse Bubble-Wrap?"
     "Yeah," said Gham, as she made marks on a scorecard.  "Barbados,
Planet of Physical Delights is many things, but 'cheap' isn't one!"
     "I, Bagelos, am convinced your couch does not contain any more
change!" the Space Villain named Bagelos declared.  "I, Bagelos, am
also convinced that I, Bagelos, have found all the credits in every
junk drawer, storage hold, and empty pizza box on this vessel.  How
can there be any more?"
     "Friend Bagelos," the wzaxtil named Quooth said, "fear not!
>From what we have been told, we have far to go in the art of shaking
down our surroundings for loose change.  Friends Gham, Jerriphrrt,
and Benjen are masters!"
     "Slithis was the best at it," said Jerriphrrt, as he sipped from
a beer he was holding with his prehensile furry tail.  "I'm pretty
sure the volume of change he was able to get out of that couch over
the years exceeds the actual size of the couch..."
     "I wonder how he's doing now," Gham mused.  "Him and Shadebeam."
     "As I told you," Quooth answered, while fiddling with phis Holy
Harmonica, "they went through a cosmic portal to altiverse
000SUPERGUY, to the point where the ABPSARI originally pulled friend
Shadebeam to our altiverse, 001SFSTORY."
     "That doesn't tell us what happened after," Benjen noted.
"We'll have to work on getting in touch with them, in between rubdown
sessions in the Mind-Expansion Saunas of the Southern Desert."  He
looked at Gham's notes.  "Which at the moment seem well beyond our
ability to afford."
     "I believe I know of a way to help," said Quooth.  Bagelos, who
knew what forms the wzaxtil's help could take, immediately dove
beneath the table that Gham, Benjen, and Jerriphrrt were seated
around.
     The tune that came from Quooth's Holy Harmonica only seemed, on
the surface, like a Bruno Mars song as rendered by tubas, chainsaws,
and weasels in heat.  It was only later that Quooth explained that it
was his people's Song of Added Value, which had been written as a
paean to the virtues of social marketing and the spiritual delights
of search engine optimization.
     When Quooth was done, phe put the Holy Harmonica down and
started feeling about the couch.  Phe soon pulled out several credit
chits.
     "Hey," said Bagelos, "you never told me you could do that."
     "When we were on the Planet of Casinos," Quooth answered, "there
seemed no need.  After all, money was all around."
     "These chits, combined with our other monetary resources, have
enough credit on 'em to buy us a landing berth for four days," said
Jerriphrrt, as he examined them.  "Plus suitable accommodations,
libations, and recuperations."
     "I was hoping for more than four days," said Bagelos.
     "There's always the pay-with-work program," Gham noted.  "Which
is not as fun as it sounds--that's how they get people to do all the
necessary, not-physically-delightful work of keeping a planetary
economy going."  She smiled, a faraway look in her eyes.  "Though
they had some really big... compensation packages."
     Jerriphrrt snorted.  She stuck her tongue out at him, then
grinned.
     "Here's an idea," Benjen interrupted.  "How about we take all
this money, here, and... go someplace else."
     Bagelos, Jerriphrrt, and Gham regarded him as if he had grown a
nipple on his forehead.  Quooth began cleaning phis Harmonica.
     "I mean it," said Benjen.  "This ship's not likely to last much
longer, especially now that the cosmic fiber-thingie that we never
knew was in it in the first place keeping it all together is gone
now.  When it goes, so does our space salvage business.  Maybe we...
well, maybe we ought to start thinking about where we're really going
from here."
     "I, Bagelos, am going to conquer the universe," Bagelos
declared.  "Is that what you're talking about?"
     "Well, sort of," said Benjen.  "I mean, it's all well and good
to *say* you're going to conquer the universe, but that's doesn't
tell you much about what to do with your last 323 credits."
     "One of my conquest plans requires with a mere 6.3 billion
credits to buy a used asteroid-redirector..."
     "So what is *your* plan, friend Benjen?" asked Quooth.
     "Yeah," said Jerriphrrt.  "What's your big idea?"
     Benjen grinned.  "Entertainment!"
     Silence, and much blinking, followed.
     "I mean," Benjen went on, "we get in with one of the big
entertainment channels, like the Extra-Sensory Perception Network.
You and me, Jerr, we used to work in that field when we were in
000SUPERGUY.  What we do is we get some work at a regional branch
for some local sim-news outlet, maybe editing or signal-gathering, or
something like that, build up some real cash, and then strike out on
our own."
     "What?" asked Gham.  "How is that different from now?"
     "I mean, launch our own concept!" Benjen raved.  "A new channel,
or an entertainment idea no one's ever conceived of yet!  We'll make
billions!  What do you say?"
     More silence followed.
     "I, Bagelos, think my idea's more realistic," Bagelos said.
     "I don't think that's going to be my road," Gham told him.  "As
for my husband..."
     Jerriphrrt shook his head.  "I can't see it.  I was glad when we
left that life before... it's not something I want to go back to."
     "I expect to fulfill my quest," Quooth noted.  "And possibly
appear in a music video with Beyonce."
     Benjen nodded, as if he had expected these reactions.  "It
sounds like this may be... it.  We're all going to go our separate
ways at long last.  No more adventures together.  No more saving the
universe, or high-flying adventures desperately trying to evade
horrifying monsters or cosmic-powered morons or three-mile-wide pies
or what have you.  It's over.  Finis.  The end."
     Gham nodded. "That's about the size of it."  She looked at
Jerriphrrt, who smiled and took her hand.  "Which means the planet we
land on next is likely to be our last, as a group."
     "And I, Bagelos, just got here," Bagelos grumbled.
     "Pardon, friends," said Quooth, "but, given that all this is
true... does that not mean our next destination *should* be Barbados,
Planet of Physical Delights?"
     "Er..." Benjen started.
     "After all," Quooth went on, "if we are to go our separate ways
soon, should it not be on a world dedicated to making any occasion as
pleasurable as possible?"
     Benjen thought about this.  The others did as well.
     Moments later, the _Universal Solvent_ was on course for
Barbados, and the couch--and everyplace else on the ship--was getting
a considerable what-for in the search for the Last of the Loose
Change.

                                -~-_-

     "...and that's why I have this," said Jerriphrrt, as he gestured
to the free-floating Justin Bieber head about three feet above him
and two feet to his left.  "A souvenir from our last visit to
Barbados, for which the money we got from selling the _Universal
Solvent_ for scrap only just covered the treatment expenses.
Fortunately, it only comes out around this time of year--it's just a
little warped patch in the sky the rest of the time.  That's why,
when we have The Talk with our kids, I'm going to make sure they know
how to play safely to avoid contracting an S.T.B."
     Benjen scratched his goatee.  He looked at the floating Bieber
head.  "S.T... B?"
     "Never mind that," said Gham.  "How've you been, dear?  It's
been thirteen years since the last scene, and we're so glad you were
able to come to this, our reunion picnic, here at our home on Vilamix
III."  She exhaled.  "Wow... exposition's harder than I remember."
     "Not doing bad," Benjen answered.  He adjusted the collar of his
expensive-looking silk tunic.  "Bit hotter here than I'd imagined."
     "Have some beer," said Jerriphrrt, handing him an unlabeled
bottle.  "I brewed it earlier this summer."
     They drank, while surveying the fields that ranged beyond
Jerriphrrt and Gham's enviro-dome home.  Some were dedicated to crops
of various kinds, while others were grasslands where cows, sheep, and
potatoes grazed.  (Vilamix III is famous for the quality of its farm-
bred, ambulatory potatoes, the creation of a Space Villain with too
much free time on his hands and not enough oxygen getting to his
brain.)  Three adolescents--Jerriphrrt and Gham's children--were
riding six-legged horses and chasing one another a few fields over.
     "You've done well for yourselves, too," said Benjen.  "Seems
really peaceful here."
     "Managing these lands isn't as easy as it looks," said Gham.
"Even though it's mostly keeping the robots that do the work in line,
and a lot of accounting and marketing.  Plus some of the orders we
receive from our Social Media Overlords are kind of strange."
     "Huh," said Benjen.  "And I said Bagelos's Real Life Farmville
idea would never work.  How is he, by the way?"
     "Working on step two of his plan to conquer the universe,"
Jerriphrrt answered, after taking a swig.  "It's the first time ever
he's had enough money to get beyond step one of any of his plans, and
he's discovering it's not so easy to keep a deadly space armada
supplied as he thought.  Last I knew, he'd rented out his personal
death cruiser to the Koch Brothers in order to replenish his stock of
planet-destroying missiles."
     "Ron, Norman, and Sajon stopped in a few months back," Gham
said.  "They've tracked Dark Lord Abrams through several galaxies,
and they're pretty sure they'll catch him soon.  Kissy and her sons
were with them, and you would not believe their screams..."
     "Heard anything from Quooth?"
     "Last e-mail we got said phe was back on phis homeworld,"
Jerriphrrt replied, "having finally completed phis larger quest.  Of
course, phe never said what that *was*, exactly.  Dr. Spleen went
through a convoluted series of adventures with time agent 357, and
survived them mostly intact and occasionally sober.  Steve Vogel
recently retired from captaining the _Challenger III_.  The space
station Freedonia 5 is still in orbit around Earth, though I think
Captain Spaulding and his crew have wandered off.  Buzz and Toni are
still about, keeping galaxies safe from Space Villains.  Kalvin
Certain's directing a holo-miniseries of his life story from prison.
Zark Flyby retired from the Time Police Academy and went back to Zeta
Ricola Beta..."
     "That explains all those news stories about people fleeing that
system," Benjen interrupted.
     "Quite," said Jerriphrrt.  "And... that's all I can think of,
off the top of my head.  Gham?"
     "We still haven't heard from Slithis or Shadebeam," she
answered.  "I wonder..."  She stopped, on seeing Benjen's sudden
grin.  "Okay... what do you know, mister?"
     Benjen reached into his coat pocket.  "Well, you all know how I
made *my* fortune, right?  By marketing viral videos of cats doing
cute and/or strange things?"
     "If by 'cats' you mean 'nubile sentients of various species and
genders wearing cat-ears, cat-tails, and nothing else,' then sure,"
Gham said.
     "Well," Benjen went on, "I took my initial profits--after paying
back all I owed to Madame Latrelle on Barbados--and bought a small
company that was doing some very keen work on making inter-altiversal
communication a functional reality.  It's not easy, but we've made
strides in making it both portable and only slightly insanely energy-
consumptive.  And thanks to the Sage, and a few of our old friends
still in the holovision business back in 000SUPERGUY, I was able to
get some receivers down to the version of Earth over there, and...
well, just look."
     The disc, which was about the size of a coffee saucer, hovered
in the air after Benjen withdrew his hand.  Above it, light shimmered
in a variety of funky colors, finally resolving into holographic
shapes.
     "Amoeba, amoeba, amoeba," Gham and Jerriphrrt chanted.
     "Hush, kids," said Benjen.  "It's syncing now... ah."
     Abruptly, the hazy shapes resolved into two holographic people.
One was that of a human female of Asian descent, with long blonde
hair, sharp eyes, and a smoker's mouth that seemed etched with a
knowing smirk.  The other was of a reptilian humanoid with scales
that continually shifted color.  After blinking a couple times, it
became clear that they could see right back at those viewing, because
they immediately started screaming.
     "No!" Benjen exclaimed.  "It's not really Justin Bieber!  It's
just a phantom floating Bieber head!"
     They stopped screaming and considered this.
     "How does that make it any less scary?" asked Slithis, the more
reptilian of the two.
     "Man," said Shadebeam, the more mammalian of the two, "we should
not have done this the morning after the end of Burning M00se."  She
shook her head.  "So, how's tricks, you guys?"
     "Great!" Jerriphrrt answered.  "I... um, how long do we have,
Ben?"
     "These are powered by micro pink holes," Benjen said.  "They're
beta models, so they'll probably only last a couple days, but once
we're up and running--"
     "Pink holes?"
     "Super-dense spam," Benjen said.  "Dr. Spleen's invention.
Massive quantities of spam subjected to gravitational implosion.  So
powerful that not even putridity can escape."
     "Well, then," said Gham.  "Let's never mind that.  What's been
going on?  Slithis, what's going on with your scales?"
     Slithis nodded, as if expecting this to be the first question.
"You're never going to believe this..."

SFSTORY.  It may stop, but it never ends... just like... SUPERGUY!

                                -~-_-

Author's afterword:

     Thank you for reading these tales.  Hard to believe, but
Sfstory's been around for over 26 years now (the last 13 of which
I've been working on this serial).  This is, most likely, the last
thing I'll write for Sfstory (though not necessarily for Superguy),
which may explain why it took me so long to finish.  (Actually, I was
busy writing other things.  But we can pretend, can't we?)  I'm
hoping it's not the last anyone writes for SFStory.  But either
way... we had a good run, eh?
     Don't forget, these stories are archived on my Sfstory site:
http://sfstory.garywolson.com .  I can't promise this archive will be
around forever, but I can promise that as long as I draw breath and
can pay my web hosting bill, it will be.  (When I become a cyborg and
no longer need oxygen, though, all bets are off!)
--
Copyright (c) 2013 Gary W. Olson, All Rights Reserved.
--
Gary W. Olson      swede at garywolson dot com
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Sfstory Archives:  http://sfstory.garywolson.com/
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