SF: Universal Solvents #21

[Gary]

                         UNIVERSAL SOLVENTS
                        (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                             Episode 21
                              "Orange"
                                 by
                            Gary W. Olson

                                -~-_-

     Steve Vogel preferred to avoid space combat.  Often, this was
because he was rarely in control of a ship that was good at it.  The
_Challenger II_ had essentially been a tricked-out space shuttle with
interstellar capabilities, which limited the armaments it could carry,
which in turn limited what it could do when attacked.  His current
ship, the _Challenger III_, was considerably larger, and had much in
the way of things that shot space lasers and space missiles and space
etcetera, but he still had his old distrust of how it would hold up in
 space combat situations.  Particularly this one.
     His crew, he noted with some pride, seemed to be handling the
situation in a professional manner.  That is, when their ship
materialized in the Zeta Ricola Beta star system (having been tele-
transported from the far-away Mydrus system) and immediately
encountered an armada of screamingly-big, yelpingly-well-armed,
holleringly-menacing space battleships, they did not immediately dive
for cover behind and/or underneath the nearest thing that looked like
it would afford some protection.  Instead, they shouted things and
pressed buttons that soon caused the _Challenger III_ to fly in a
direction that would avoid the enemy fleet, and would get the ship to
the planet.  They pressed other buttons which fired space lasers and
space missiles and space etcetera, which were very colorful and
impressive and, sadly, not terribly effective against the well-
shielded enemy.
     Steve, as Captain of the _Challenger III,_ knew it was up to him
to take charge of the situation.  Trying to project as much paternal
authority as possible, he extricated himself from where he had been
hiding--behind Lucky, the six-foot-tall-at-the-shoulder black-furred
mutant cat ship's mascot cat, who had regarded Steve's quivering form
with about as much contempt as a mutant cat could muster--and strode
to the center of the bridge.
     "Um," he said.  "How's it going... um, crew?"
     "Five minutes, Captain," said his second-in-command, Commander
Jean St. Thomas.  "We just got word from Toni Williams.  She has the
skiff ready, and as soon as we reach the atmosphere, she, Gham,
Jerriphrrt, Ronald Hastings, Kissy Hitowers, and six of our complement
of space marines will launch and fly down to the Daaksvong complex,
where the cosmic space-time power fluctuations are coming from."
     "Ah," said Steve, nodding in as effective and not-effeminate a
manner as he knew.  "Very good.  Very good."  He paused.  "Er...
cosmic... space-time... what?"
     Jean gestured to the large screen at her console, which featured
a colorful display of the planet below, with a sort of warped orange
patch on a continent in its northern hemisphere.  Steve guessed that
the warped patch was not a regular feature.
     "You remember what Toni told us, along with what we learned from
 that video Captain Spaulding provided to us" said Jean.  "The Zeta
Ricola Betans are turning one of their number--we don't know who,
yet--into a sort of Champion or Chosen One or whatever, which
apparently involves pumping them with a great deal of cosmic energy
stolen from the Breaking of the Fast at the Dawn of the Universe.
They have this sort of prophecy-thing going on that this Champion or
Chosen one will face off against a Chosen One-slash-Champion
determined to take back said stolen energy on behalf of an ur-Bagel
named Shoon-Ma, that they'll engage in some sort of titanic, universe-
throttling battle, and so on.  I'm not sure I followed much of it, but
it sounds terribly important."
     Steve nodded.  The _Challenger III's_ original mission had been
to find a means of saving Earth from a televised plague of a form of
bad television, and he and his crew had only recently learned that
said plague had actually been taken care of in their absence by
legendary space hero Buzz Williams.  The new mission they were on was
even more important, something that was clear to all, even though most
seemed hazy as to exactly what it was about.
     "Three minutes to Zeta Ricola Beta's atmosphere," Jean reported.
"Skiff is ready to launch."
     Explosions rocked the ship, but no red lights flashed, indicating
to Steve that the ship's shields were holding steady.  The
_Challenger III_ was clearly faster and more maneuverable than their
pursuers.  Steve sat down in the Captain's chair...
     ...and promptly stood when he discovered that the Captain's chair
was, in fact, occupied.  He spun on his heel to see who had the
unmitigated gall to usurp his position, and more importantly, his
comfortable seat.
     "Commander, belay that order," said Captain J. Michael Spaulding,
as he lit a cigar and leaned back in the Captain's chair.  "Or order,
belay that commander.  If something isn't belayed in the next minute,
you're all going to the brig!"
     Steve took a deep breath, then let it out.  He regarded the man,
who in his excessively decorated blue Earth military uniform
(acquired during his time captaining the space station Freedonia 5,
which at the moment was parked on Earth's moon, being repaired)
seemed like a rather silly version of... well, of him.  Only he did
not have Captain Spaulding's thick black mustache, or his cigar, or
his mischievous smile.  Steve smoothed down his own not-so-well
decorated uniform and spoke.
     "I knew you'd turn up sooner or later," he said.  "We're in the
middle of a desperate flight to the enemy planet there, and we have no
time for... excuse me."  He turned to Chicobaldi, the curly-haired
Freedonia 5 security chief, who had been tapping him on the shoulder.
"What?"
     "Here's'a your turnip," said Chicobaldi, handing Steve the
indicated vegetable.  "What about'a rutabaga?  We'a gotta fresh
rutabaga.  Or squash.  You like'a the squash?"
     "No," Steve coldly replied.
     "Well, then," said Spaulding, as he rose from the Captain's
chair.  "No wonder you stink.  If you'd squash more often, I wouldn't
have to hold my nose."
     Steve sputtered.  He realized that his crew was in the middle of
a tense situation, and that a distraction at this point could be
fatal.  He realized that Spaulding and Chicobaldi were deliberately
provoking him, heedless of the importance of the moment.  He realized
that he had to get them to deal with him on his terms, not on theirs.
He realized he was holding someone's thigh with his right hand.
     Zacko, the blond, curly-haired Lieutenant from Freedonia 5,
grinned and honked his horn.  Steve Vogel dropped Zacko's leg, and
felt his rage surge past his will to keep it contained.
     The tirade that followed will not be reproduced here.  This is
not solely due to the profanity contained, though it was colorful,
varied, and involved a variety of mammals.  Nor is it due to the
gestures used, as dramatic, pointed, and anatomically unlikely as they
were.  It will not be reduced here because it is impossible to
capture, in mere text, the sheer whine of the tone, the teeth-rattling
effeminate petulance, or the almost-sublime depths of passive-
aggressive blame-shifting.  Suffice it to say that when Steve ran out
of breath and sat down hard on the floor of the bridge, no one was
paying attention to their controls, or the oncoming enemy, or much of
anything else.
     After several long moments, Spaulding spoke.
     "What about a kumquat?" he asked.
     Jean St. Thomas shook her head, as if to clear it, and turned to
the comm panel.  She pressed a button, and a green light turned red.
"Transmission sent, sir," she said.
     "Er," said Steve.  His throat felt sore.  "What?"
     "No," Chicobaldi.  "Quat."
     "That's what I'm asking," Steve replied.
     Chicobaldi grinned.  "Now you'a gettin' it.  Keep'a this up,
you'a be almost as'a funny as'a Zeppus."
     Zeppus Coleslaw, the forth and least remarkable refugee from
Freedonia 5, started juggling fresh produce.
     "Sir," said St. Thomas, "I transmitted your performance to the
enemy ships, claiming it was a surrender hail.  It looks like it's had
an effect."
     "What?" Steve asked.
     "Quat?" asked Zeppus.  Zacko accepted the proffered fruit and put
it in his pocket.
     The space radar made the situation clear.  The enemy ships were
veering wildly off course.  Two had collided with one another, and a
third appeared to be doing a sort of corkscrew thing while headed
toward a moon of the system's sole planet.  The enemy's pursuit was
thoroughly munged.
     "It appears," said Jean, with as much diplomacy as she could
muster, "that the enemy is... that is to say... er... laughing... too
hard... to pursue us.  Due to your... um... amazing improvised
performance, which you of course knew was being broadcast to produce
precisely this effect.  Sir."
     "Riiight," said Steve.  He looked up at Zacko, who held out his
horn to help him up.  Steve grasped the knob, was not surprised to
hear a loud honking sound, and was pulled to his feet.  "Well, then.
Are we in range of the planet?"
     "Getting there now," his helmsman responded.  Steve was a bit put
out that he could not remember the man's name.  "Atmospheric contact
in five... four... three... two... one...."
     "Skiff is away," Jean reported.  "Toni Williams knows her
business, that's for sure.  Looks like the skiff's heat shields are
holding... they should be on the surface in twenty minutes."
     "That's that, then," said Steve.  "What about the enemy ships?"
     "They appear to be regrouping," Jean said.  "Looks like they'll
be coming after us soon."
     "Right," said Steve.  "What do you think, Captain Spaulding?
Time to run away?"
     "With alacrity, Captain Vogel," Spaulding replied.  "Though I
forgot to bring my lacrity, so I'll have to borrow yours."

                                -~-_-

     There are artifacts in the universe that beggar the imagination--
grand constructs, exuding power and antiquity in their elaborate
designs, their sublime textures, and their sheer awesomeness.  They
are the most desired, the most conspired for, the most fought over,
and the most jealously guarded of artifacts, and the histories of
empires have turned on their fates.
     There are also artifacts in the universe that are just stupid.
As the space villain Bagelos gazed upon what had been introduced to
him as 'the Proofs,' he strongly suspected they fell into the latter
category.  In fact, they appeared to be nothing more than twelve
cardboard rectangles cut out of random cereal boxes and attached by
wires to what appeared to be an enormous dented teapot.  Each
rectangle had a series of vertical black lines, with a set of numbers
beneath.  Below the numbers was alien lettering that Bagelos had been
informed translated to 'Proof of Purchase - Unstoppable Cosmic Power.'
     "I, Bagelos," said Bagelos, "feel the need to ask... what is this
needlewarping crap?"
     "Watch your language," Sark Flyby responded.  "You're in a holy
place!"  He emphasized this by swatting Bagelos on the kneecap, which
for him was at eye level.
     Bagelos barely noticed the swat.  "You said you had the Fiber
hooked up.  Where is it?"
     "I believe it is right here, friend Bagelos," said Quooth.  The
wzaxtil stood at the base of the thirty-foot-tall teapot, gesturing
with phis feelers at a rectangular hatch set into the smooth silvery
metal.  Bagelos looked down at Sark, who gestured to a couple of the
soldier-monks who guarded the entrance to the Repository of the Proofs
(the underground complex into which Sark had brought Bagelos and
Quooth following their capture at the Temple of the Ancients).  The
soldier-monks advanced to where Quooth stood, roughly displaced phim,
then opened the rectangular hatch.
     The fist-sized chunk of rock seemed to squirm in Bagelos's sight.
Bagelos recognized it at once as the ancient power source of the
wretched _W.S. Universal Solvent,_ the ship in which he and Quooth had
come to Zeta Ricola Beta.  Sark had told him that it had been taken
from the _Universal Solvent_ and installed here, as well as its true
name and purpose.
     Had Bagelos's grandfather, the space villain Baconos, possession
of The Fiber forty years ago, when he had been on this world trying
to make Unstoppable Cosmic Power his own, he would have succeeded.
Not even the space heroes of the time, including the legendary Hutch
Williams, could have stood against him.  Bagelos contemplated these
facts with anticipation as he again regarded the Proofs.
     "How are they controlled?" he asked.  "I, Bagelos, must know if
I, Bagelos, am to draw Unstoppable Cosmic Power to this world for your
control!"
     The monk next to him sighed.  Bagelos remembered his being
introduced as Tarlus, the Keeper of the Proofs, and also remembered
his first impression of the grey-mop-haired, rake-thin old man as
someone who missed his calling as a dissection cadaver.
     "This is the remote," said Tarlus, holding out a small black
metal rectangle with two knobs and a lever.  "This controls the
overall power flow, this is for fine tuning the directional quadrant
expenditures, and this is for thinning and thickening the power
allowed to the Chosen One."
     "And that's it?" Bagelos asked.  "That is all you do with the
power you have already tapped?"
     "Until the Chosen One has defeated Shoon-Ma's Champion in single
combat," Sark said, "that's how it's got to be.  We gained enough
power, forty years ago, to build a hyper-mumbo-jumbo-energy-tesseract
to seal off our star system from the outside universe, and build an
impressive and stylish space armada, but we do not dare do more until
we've got the cosmic stones to back it up!  And for that, we must
bring the ancient prophecies to fulfillment!"
     "Ah," Bagelos said.  "Right.  Which is where I, Bagelos, come in.
But to gain the Unstoppable Cosmic Power you seek, I shall have to
have more direct contact than what is afforded by Tarlus's small black
box."
     "It's a nice control box," Tarlus said, a bit of petulance in his
voice.  "I painted it myself."
     "Friend Bagelos," said Quooth.  "You must reconsider these
actions.  Recall the fate of Baconos, will you not?"
     "My grandfather," Bagelos replied, "became a pseudo-ghost in the
Temple of the Ancients through his own errors, which I, Bagelos, shall
not repeat.  My grandfather, Baconos, did not have The Fiber, which I,
Bagelos, do.  Are you, Quooth, getting this?"
     Quooth gave no reply, not even an annoying tune.  Bagelos turned
away and regarded the Proofs.
     Perhaps direct contact---
     "No!" Tarlus and Sark exclaimed, as Bagelos reached for the
nearest of the Proofs.  But they were too late.  Bagelos's fingertips
touched the nearest two of the Proofs, and the entire control room
complex dropped away from his perceptions.
     "I, Bagelos, will stay calm," he murmured, as the world above
swam into his head.  "I, Bagelos, am the master of all which I,
Bagelos, see."  The Daaksvong Complex was smaller than he thought, and
the people in it were small and quick.  More appeared as he watched,
and he realized some were actually being tele-transported from outside
of the Zeta Ricola Betan star system.  A few of these tele-transported
beings were passingly familiar, with names such as Von Spleen and
Kalvin Certain and Benjen and... Shoon-Ma!
     "I, Bagelos..." he started to say.  Then things went weird.
     He was in the kind of place he had always envisioned himself in
at the end of any of his impressively detailed plans for universal
conquest: the bridge of an enormous starship, gazing down at his
minions as they scurried about, ever fearful of committing some kind
of blunder that would bring down his wrath.  The screens on the walls
and on the consoles showed scenes of epic space battle, and government
leaders promising surrender and servitude.  The air smelled vaguely of
donuts.
     But the minions were not minions, exactly.  They were places and
times, and as he watched they blurred into patterns and histories.
The battle scenes became stellar ballets, the surrendering governors
some form of light rock music.  The donut smell became a coffee smell,
and in the distance--the infinite distance!--Bagelos heard the while
of a machine that created lattes.
     Across from him, in the booth he did not remember being seated
in, a bagel hovered.
     "I, Bagelos, am thoroughly confused," he admitted.
     "What confuses you?" asked the ur-Bagel, who Bagelos knew to be
Shoon-Ma.  "Your tiny, pathetic human mind must process the enormous
cosmic energies and enhanced perceptions of the infinite workings of
the universe somehow.  Why not a coffee shop?"
     Bagelos looked around again.  The coffee shop was oddly
furnished, and the way the walls and people seemed to blur was both
strange and pretentious.  A couple in the booth behind Bagelos--a
blonde human female and a reptilian being of a sex Bagelos could not
ascertain--were kissing in a passionate if slightly awkward fashion,
completely ignoring their triple-mocha lattes.  The barista behind the
counter was developing an epic sneer in preparation for an approaching
customer.  An enormous plate glass window let in light from outside,
but all it revealed was that all outside was light.  Right offhand,
Bagelos could think of several reasons 'why not' a coffee shop, but
since it was what he was going to have to work with anyway, he decided
to let them go.
     "You are... Shoon-Ma?" Bagelos asked.
     "You know of me?" Shoon-Ma replied.  "Does word of me somehow
survive the Breaking of the Fast?"
     "Er, yes," said Bagelos.  He realized that the Shoon-Ma before
him was not the Shoon-Ma that had just been tele-transported to planet
Zeta Ricola Beta.  The Shoon-Ma before him was here to make a deal to
betray his fellow ur-Breakfast Foods, not knowing that Bagelos fully
intended to betray him, thus setting up the event that would send the
embittered and ancient Shoon-Ma on a quest to find a Champion to send
to Zeta Ricola Beta to take revenge.  "But let us not talk of this...
we hardly would like to cause a temporal paradox, would we?"
     "The other I spoke with," said Shoon-Ma.  "Baconos, his name.  He
tried to describe time to me.  And paradoxes.  They seem rather
complicated.  I'm not sure I followed the explanation."
     Bagelos started to answer, pausing only when he realized the
background music had shifted.  It sounded something like 'Annie Get
Your Gun,' performed on a harmonica.  The higher dimensions were
proving to be as annoying as they were odd.  He returned his attention
to the business at hand.
     "They are unimportant," he said.  "I, Bagelos, am not concerned
with them."
     "Where is Baconos, anyway?" Shoon-Ma asked.  "We worked together
on the preparatory phases."
     "He is no longer with us," Bagelos replied.  "A sad accident.  I,
Bagelos, am his grandson, and am prepared with his blessing to
complete this great work."
     "Right," said Shoon-Ma.  "Let us begin."
     Neither noticed that the couple in the next booth had stopped
making out, and were now watching them.

                                -~-_-

     Shadebeam Moroboshi was no longer in her cell on Zeta Ricola
Beta.  Nor was she on Zeta Ricola Beta at all.  At least, she did not
think she was.  She was not sure that she was limited to a single
place or a single time.  What was before her seemed so much more than
that, though she could not entirely work out what all was in it.  It
was images and lines and movement, an assembly she knew she would
never be able to describe, even though at the moment it seemed to make
enough sense.
     She had no body, but she could deal with that.  What were less
easy to deal with were the sounds of 'Annie Get Your Gun' being played
on a harmonica in the background.  It was the wrong choice, to say the
least, for a meta-cosmic experience.
     "Hey," said Slithis, who seemed someplace close to her.  "I think
that's where we first met."
     She could not see him, but as he spoke, the strange lines before
her shifted, and there they were, on the _Red Emma,_ arm in arm as the
ship lifted away from Earth.  So long ago, so much more young, and
already together, inhibitions erased by the smoke they shared.
     "You see," she said, "I told you this was how it worked."
     "How what worked?" Slithis asked.  "And where are you?  And...
um... where am I?  This isn't a dream, is it?"
     "No," said Shadebeam.  She focused on the mass of past images,
and found where she had been taken away from the 001SFSTORY altiverse
and into 000SUPERGUY.  More correctly, as she remembered that time, it
took shape.
     "Weren't we," said Slithis, "you know... doing something?
Before?"
     "That's how we got here," Shadebeam replied.  "The ABPSARI
brought us inside."
     "Oh," said Slithis.  "So this is just happening in our heads
while our bodies are still there--"
     "No," Shadebeam interrupted.  "It brought our bodies in with us.
Anyone looking in on our cell will just see it empty.  I don't know
where our bodies are right now, but I expect they'll catch up to us."
     "Right," said Slithis.  "So... what are you doing?"
     "Remember what I told you earlier?"
     "Um... before the goinking?"
     "Goi... what?"
     "Goinking.  It's a verb.  It means---"
     "Yeah, got it," Shadebeam interrupted.  "What I said before.  It
wasn't the ABPSARI that manipulated us to this point.  It's just a
tool, right?"
     "Um.  Sure."
     "It only seemed to be manipulating us.  See, like right here.
This point where I'm brought back into 001SFSTORY, by Dr. Bing Von
Spleen's misuse of the machine."
     "With nothing but your bath towel," Slithis commented.  "May I
venture a 'hubba?'"
     "Only one."
     "Hubba."
     "Now," said Shadebeam, "the point is, when I saw what was
happening, I wasn't just re-watching it... I was causing it to
happen."
     "Er?"
     "I was remembering what happened," she went on, "and that caused
it to happen in that way.  See?"
     "Oh... um... no."
     "It's not really a time loop, since we're outside of space and
time.  More like an... um... information loop.  The ABPSARI gets from
us what happened, and then makes it happen."
     Slithis considered this for a while.
     "So... the agency behind the clearly non-random manipulations the
ABPSARI's been inflicting on us for years, and the last three days in
particular is... us?"
     "You got it," said Shadebeam.  "So, here's the thing.  I think we
could change what it did... if we wanted."
     "You mean," Slithis replied, "instead of it next teleporting us
from Shoon-Ma's ship to the Planet of Casinos, it could send us to,
say, Barbados, Planet of Physical Delights?"
     "Basically, yes.  Of course, if we do that, we never end up in
that cell on Zeta Ricola Beta, and then we never realize we're
basically mad for one another, never goink, and probably eventually go
our separate ways.  I'm not sure if that would disrupt the information
loop or not... this *is* a weird-funky-ass machine, and I don't know
that paradoxes apply."
     Slithis considered some more.
     "So what's with the harmonica music?"
     "No idea, sorry."
     "So, the choice is still ours, then."
     "Right."
     "We can choose to inflict all this danger and weirdness on
ourselves, all for the sake of getting to this point now where we can
choose."
     "Right.  So, if you could do it all over again, would you?"
     "Would *you?*"
     Neither one answered.  Neither one needed to.  Their combined
memories of the final three ABPSARI incidents--being teleported from
Shoon-Ma's ship to the Planet of Casinos, being teleported from the
Planet of Casinos to Zeta Ricola Beta, and being snorked out of their
cell on Zeta Ricola Beta to this odd and squiggled non-place--happened
in rapid succession.
     Shadebeam opened her eyes to find she was seated in a booth of a
coffee shop, kissing Slithis.  The harmonica music was still audible,
only now it sounded like it was coming through the shop's speakers.
Two voices came from the next booth.
     "He is no longer with us," said one.  "A sad accident.  I,
Bagelos, am his grandson, and am prepared with his blessing to
complete this great work."
     "Right," said the other.  "Let us begin."
     Shadebeam and Slithis looked at the two in the next booth.  She
did not know the guy in the dingy 'evil' black-and-red robes, or
particularly like his black-and-grey goatee or the ruby over his left
eye.  Shoon-Ma she recognized, and was somewhat surprised when he did
not recognize her or Slithis.
     They listened while Bagelos and Shoon-Ma conspired.  Most of the
details Shadebeam did not particularly get--there was some energy to
be released to Zeta Ricola Beta circa forty years ago, with the
remainder to be delivered to 'present day' Zeta Ricola Beta, this
energy would let Bagelos do such-and-such, and Shoon-Ma would then be
able to do this-and-that-and-that-other-thing--but one plot point was
conspicuously absent.  It was the one that Shoon-Ma had been always on
about when she had been on his ship: the Champion who was supposed to
carry out Shoon-Ma's revenge against Zeta Ricola Beta, after taking on
and somehow defeating Zeta Ricola Beta's Chosen One.
     Bagelos and Shoon-Ma, at the end of their conspiring, vanished.
The coffee house did not, though it started to waver.
     "Bagelos is going to betray Shoon-Ma," said Slithis.  "And set up
this whole chain of events.  How... how do we stop it?"
     "This music..." Shadebeam whispered.  "It's not just music."
     "Um.  What?"
     "In the background..."
     "Is that what that is."
     "Technically, yes.  Let me hear it clearly..."
     Perhaps it was the place they were in, she thought.  The
harmonica sound had something inside it, something that evoked both
the cosmic reaches and the hillbilly in the ditch, the thunderous
silence of deep time and interminable ennui of longtime jailbirds.
The more she focused on it, the more it focused on her, until it was
in her, and she...
     "Hello?" asked a tentative voice.  Shadebeam could not decide if
the voice was male or female, but it also did not seem right to call
it 'neuter'.  "Friend Bagelos?"
     "Not here at the moment," she answered.  "I'm his secretary.  May
I ask your name?"
     "Oh, certainly!"
     Shadebeam waited.
     "Who are you?" she asked, fighting back exasperation.
     "I am Quooth Thiiksi," the voice replied.  An image formed of a
bipedal buglike being with a harmonica clutched in phis feelers.  "And
I see that friend Slithis is with you.  Hello, friend Slithis!"
     "Er, hi," said Slithis.
     "You know... er... phim?" Shadebeam asked.
     "Met phim on Freedonia 5," said Slithis.  "Briefly.  Not sure I
even introduced myself."
     "Is friend Bagelos around?" Quooth asked.  "I have been playing
on my Holy Harmonica the wzaxtil Song of Connection to A Friend Who is
Having Cosmic Things Happening to His Head At The Moment, but have not
connected.  I fear he is conspiring to gain great power for himself,
at the cost of great damage to the universe in general, and Zeta
Ricola Beta in immediate particular."
     "That's about the size of it.  Tell me something..."
     For a while after, they discussed events as they had experienced
them to date, gaining great insight into the plot.  Indeed, at that
point, they probably had greater insight into what was going on than
most other characters, or the readers, or the Author.  At the end of
the discussion, Quooth brought up a vital question.
     "What shall we do next?" phe asked.  "Friend Bagelos has already
struck his deal with not-friend Shoon-Ma.  Already increased power
from the Breaking of the Fast at the Dawn of the Universe is flowing
into him, and will be available to Zeta Ricola Beta's Chosen One,
friend Zark Flyby.  If, as you say, it is likely that Shoon-Ma's
Champion, friend Sajon, is already on Zeta Ricola Beta, then their
prophesized meeting is inevitable!"
     "But he's not Shoon-Ma's Champion yet," Slithis noted.  "At
least, he wasn't last we saw him.  Dr. Von Spleen was going to work on
the means for his transformation, probably a Spam-based pill or
something..."
     "He's going to cause friend Sajon to ingest... Spam?" Quooth
asked, horror in phis reedy voice.
     "Likely some kind of Spam that's been altered to bestow super
cosmic power, in convenient pill-like form," Slithis said.  "Not sure
if that's better or worse than regular Spam."
     "So what you have to do is just keep Sajon from his
transformation," Shadebeam said.  "Once you find him, I mean.  Chances
are he's in your vicinity on Zeta Ricola Beta."
     "I will!" Quooth replied.  "And what shall you do, friend
Shadebeam?"
     Shadebeam sighed.
     "Go home," she said.
     "What?" Slithis and Quooth simultaneously asked.
     "We don't have a way back to Zeta Ricola Beta, Slith," Shadebeam
explained.  "We lost that connection when Bagelos withdrew.  And now
that we completed the memory circuit and chose to cause to happen all
that the ABPSARI did with us... it's pushing me out.  And unless you
come out with me, back into 000SUPERGUY, you'll be trapped here
forever."
     "That wouldn't be good," said Slithis.  "That barista looked very
sur... hey, what happened to the coffee shop?"
     "Gone."
     Not only was the coffee shop gone, so was the panoramic
phantasma-of-space-and-time imagery they had before so easily
manipulated.  Now were just darkness, a bright hole in said darkness,
and some fading harmonica music.
     "Hey, Quooth," said Slithis.  "If you see Benjen, Gham,
Jerriphrrt or Sajon, let 'em know that Slithis and Shadebeam had to go
back to the 000SUPERGUY altiverse, to planet Earth.  We'll try to get
back to 001SFSTORY when we can, but that may not be possible for a
while."
     "I will let these friends know," Quooth promised.  Phis voice was
now very faint.  "By..."
     They waited, but both wzaxtil and harmonica were now silent.  The
bright hole in the fabric of the inky blackness had grown, and
Shadebeam could tell they were close to being pushed out.  Through the
hole she could see the bathroom of her home, the very place from which
she was abducted by the ABPSARI three days before.
     "Three days," she grumbled.  "It feels like eight years."
     "Hmmm?" Slithis asked.
     "Nothing," said Shadebeam.  "Okay, this might get strange.
Strange-er, I mean.  I lost my magic when the ABPSARI plucked me out
of 000SUPERGUY, though Dr. Spleen or Von Spleen or whoever said I'd
get it right back once I returned.  All well and good, but since
you're coming back through with me, it might affect you as well..."
     She felt his arms around her, and turned to face him.  He was
smiling, and she kissed him.
     A moment later, they were through the altiversal rift.  A moment
after that, the rift was gone.
     Back on Zeta Ricola Beta, in the cell that once held Shadebeam
and Slithis, the APBSARI stopped glowing, and, for no apparent reason,
turned into a wetvac.

WILL SHADEBEAM AND SLITHIS MAKE IT BACK IN TIME TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS
NEXT?
WHAT IS HAPPENING NEXT?
DO THINGS START MAKING SENSE?
DOES BAGELOS CONQUER THE UNIVERSE?
DO WE FIND OUT WHAT'S GOING ON WITH CHARACTERS WE HAVEN'T SEEN IN
AGES?
DO WE GET MORE 'QUAT' JOKES?
QUAT?

More obfuscation in the next episode of SFSTORY!
--
Gary W. Olson          swede at novitious dot com
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