[[This is Part Four, also called the Conclusion of the Post. Please proceed to the rear of the vehicle in an orderly fashion.]]
The Masked Bruce had a bit of a love/hate relationship with the detention cells on Level 6 of the B-Tower (the Tower that was the A.L.U. proper's tower, versus living space and Academy). On the one hand they were amazingly durable, could contain most menaces, and were among the most sophisticated holding facilities on planet Earth. On the other hand, when the ULA and AIF had beaten him to a spongy pulp, they'd dropped him in a cell, right next to Trudy on one side, Dianna on the other, and Jane just past that. Not the best couple of days.
Still, he was looking forward to this. The glowing orbs continued to drift around him.
The Dash was pacing. Which is something she generally did in situations like this. "
"You're overthinking this," the Masked Bruce said. "Ah! There we go!"
Dangerousgirl got there first, followed by Trashman and Unorthodox Lass, with Kid Solipsism and Mandy Harken taking up the rear. Mandy was carrying her club-thing, which the Masked Bruce didn't understand at all.
"We're here," Trashman said. The Masked Bruce could tell he wasn't at his most happy. What else was new, right? "What's this about?"
"Ah ah ah! We're waiting on the Skintight Centurion to join us."
Unorthodox Girl blinked. "Oh, I kinda like that one."
Trashman nodded. "Do we know she's coming? JOEL, has she left her room?"
<<Well, she's got her version of Privacy on, since I have to monitor during her disciplinary, but I can say she's not left the room and she's not likely to based on her current activities.>>
The Masked Bruce frowned, glancing over in the general direction of C-Tower. "Yeah... she's not moving at all. Seems to be healthy, though. Hm. That's worrying."
"Welcome to, like, four days ago," Dangerousgirl sniped.
"Are you seeing through the walls?" Trashman asked.
"You mean like Mighty Guy's Mighty Vision? No -- I'm just looking at the pattern of her bioenergies. It's actually pretty neat. Should we goose her or--"
"Is there some kind of danger?" Trashman asked.
"That would be a no." The Masked Bruce grinned.
"Then no. Let her rest. We'll talk to her later."
"Good luck," Dangerousgirl said, sullenly. Unorthodox Girl winced, then turned to say something to Mandy. She blinked. "Whoa... Mandy, you change hair conditioners or something? You look *amazing.*"
Dangerousgirl looked over. "Wow. Seriously. I don't know what you changed, but keep it up."
Mandy glanced at the Kid. "I'm not entirely sure I should thank you."
"For what?"
"Never mind."
"Okay!" The Masked Bruce sounded cheerful. "Ladies and Gentlemen -- please look away from the admittedly startling Mandy Harken and allow me to direct your attention to the glowing orbs surrounding my head."
"We noticed them," Mandy said. "Get on with it."
"You will notice, also, that all the cells in this cell block are closed and secured! And that I have nothing but bracers of cosmic power up my sleeve."
"Stipulated," Trashman said. "Seriously, Masked Bruce -- what--"
"Imperious REX!" The Masked Bruce, still grinning, gestured at the cells. The orbs floated into them, over the bunks in each cell, where the seemed to burn brighter and resolve into the sleeping members of the League of Unconcerned Scientists, each one in a blaze orange convict's jumpsuit with their names printed on their back like some kind of sports team.
"...shut... *up.*" Unorthodox Lass said, staring.
"Now, I took the precaution of taking all their bits of string and technowhatsises and stuff, and disarmed it and drained any power cells." He gestured again, and the clothes and gear of the League of Unconcerned Scientists appeared, folded neatly, on the other side of the room. "I'd suggest having the bots come down, tag this stuff and get it in the evidence locker. I also gave JOEL the coordinates of their base, which has been powered down cold but is still something to be careful about."
"You... did all this on your own?" Trashman said, eyes beginning to narrow.
"Hey -- I logged the details of the mission with JOEL before I went, along with a deadline in case I didn't get back when I expected. And I called the Dash in to provide backup and clear the civilians out of the area, since I knew that if they could take me down she'd either have the speed to get me out or the speed to get back here and call in the marines. And c'mon, Trashman. We all log solo missions, like, all the time. You're the *king* of soloing." He paused. "And... about before. Look. You're right. I'm new to this power. I'm new to what it means and I'm still getting used to it. That was no excuse for the crap I pulled in the debrief. You were right -- this *was* important. It's... hard to remember the smaller details when the big ones loom on the horizon." He snorted. "Maybe that's why I accused you of micromanaging. You live by the details we sometimes ignore. Which is why you're in charge, and I know that. So... I did what you told me to do."
Trashman paused, then nodded. "And did it extremely well, Masked Bruce. It will take some time for all of us to get used to the level of power you possess and some of its broader implications. I'll ask you to be patient with me while I'm being patient with you." He paused. "Though perhaps tone down the sarcasm a notch or two?"
The Masked Bruce laughed. "That's a deal, boss." He clapped Trashman on the shoulder. "Dash? Able to clock off for a bit? I have a trick I can't *wait* to show you."
The Dash nodded, too fast for most of them to perceive. "
"Right as rain!" the Masked Bruce said, grinning. "Later, all!"
The rest of the team watched the two leave, the Dash significantly faster, of course. Mandy opened her mouth but Trashman held up a finger, shushing her for a long moment. He kept his head cocked and his eye on the door as he spoke. "By the by -- not to be unprofessional, Mandy, but they're right. You really do look quite stunning today. I don't think it's new clothing or a new haircut -- more a je ne sais quoi that--" He stopped mid-sentence, nodding. "JOEL, Privacy Mode locked to all members in this room plus Mandy. Lock out all other monitoring save of the prisoners and screen out our video and audio and any other audio relevant to our discussion." He looked at his teammates. "All right. Comments."
"That was amazing," Mandy said. "And I'm scared shitless. Is anyone else scared shitless?"
"Not really," Kid Solipsism said. "Nothing from the dream proper scares me in the way you're describing, since it was all created by my subconsciousness anyway."
"That makes one of us," Dangerousgirl said. "I almost peed my uniform, and it's my only clean one."
"What I said before, about that not being the Masked Bruce?" Unorthodox Girl said -- she was often fast and loose with the 'codenames in uniforms' rule, but in a roomful of evil mad scientists, she wasn't about to use a real name. "That's... that *was* the Masked Bruce. But... not the best part of him. And... I dunno. It's like... he's as much playing the part as anything. 'Cept with the Dash. That looked real."
"It was real. He set the whole attack up to impress her."
Unorthodox Lass and Dangerousgirl jumped back. Mandy didn't jump but looked startled. Kid Solipsism clearly didn't care, and Trashman looked entirely unsurprised as he turned around to face the speaker. "You don't seem to have been as affected by the Masked Bruce's forced somnolence," he said, mildly.
"Of course I wasn't," Doctor Pepper said, having gotten up and walked closer to the xolchaglassite wall separating him from the ALU. "I have enough caffeine in my system to stun two goats, a mule and Boutros Boutros-Ghali. I don't know what happened to your snarky little friend since he lost the crowbar, but if you hadn't told me that was the Masked Bruce, I wouldn't have believed it."
"What makes you say that?" Dangerousgirl asked.
"A lot of things. First off -- he wasn't cocky or sarcastic when fighting us. He wasn't determined. He wasn't confident. He wasn't even *smug.* He was *amused.* It was like he'd set up dominoes and was now cheerfully knocking them down for his own entertainment." Doctor Pepper paused. "Can I get a drink?"
"I'm afraid all we have is Mister Pibb," Trashman said.
Doctor Pepper's face twisted into rage, before settling back into its placid form. "Water is fine. Carbonated by preference but hardly by requirement. Anyhow. That might have been easy to ignore, but... look, I nearly beat the Masked Bruce once. He beat me thanks to summoning sketch comedy about toothpaste and running me over with many cars. He's really not liked me since then and I assure you it's mutual. Whenever we encounter each other, we want to *hurt* each other... until today, that is. This time he clearly didn't *care* about me. Or about Doctor Unstable despite what he did to the Dash. Or about Doctor Chauvinist despite what he did to Spandex Babe."
"Not to mention me," Dangerousgirl said, venomously.
Doctor Pepper shrugged. "You exist because of us. From my point of view, you're our greatest success, even if you didn't exactly go on to perform as we'd hoped."
Dangerousgirl raised a fist, energy hazing around it.
"Dangerousgirl," Trashman said, mildly. She put her arm down. "Anything else? You're a scientist and trained observer--"
"Yes. One other point. I mentioned the time he summoned a sketch comedy routine to run me over. This time... he quoted a sketch from that program he likes. Something about surprise and fear."
"The Spanish Inquisition," Mandy, Unorthodox Girl and Trashman said in unison.
"I have to watch some of these stupid shows sometime," Dangerousgirl muttered.
"That one. Yes. He quoted it. But nothing appeared because of it. No one in priest robes or goggles. No comfy chairs or dish racks. It was more to scare us, I think, if he even cared about that. The cadences weren't even right."
Trashman considered. "Has anyone seen the Masked Bruce use his Python powers -- really use them -- since the mission?"
"He sort of quoted Holy Grail during the Vermont thing," Unorthodox Lass said. "But it was just a throwaway line and nothing happened. The Dash'd probably know more than we do about that, though."
"The Dash, who's currently being shown a 'trick' upstairs after the Masked Bruce showed off for her," Mandy said. "Maybe not our most reliable witness."
"But our most valuable one," Trashman said. "And please, Mandy. Not in front of the supervillains."
"Pfah," Doctor Pepper said. "I was there on the mission they started making goo goo eyes in front of each other. I couldn't care less where that went afterward." He leaned forward. "I'm a mad scientist, Trashman. The operative word being mad. I have the insanity of a man who's been pushed beyond the bounds of what reality should contain, with the science to prove to those fools at the institute that I was right--"
"What institute?" Mandy asked. "No one ever says--"
"You don't know? DeVry."
"DeVry?"
"Absolutely. Every mad scientist attempts to go to DeVry as a matter of course, and we're all rejected. The fools."
"You were saying?" Trashman asked.
"What? Oh, right. Cracked worldview, all shall tremble, the standard madness rant. We're all madmen-and-woman here in the League of Unconcerned Scientists, Trashman, whether as raving as Doctor Unstable, as mellow as Doctor Teeth, or as cheerful as I usually am -- there is the chaos of the storm beneath the surface. You learn to recognize it." His eyes burned as they stared at Trashman. "I don't know in what way, or how, or why... but that storm lies within your teammate now, Trashman -- and it's not centered on Monty Python's Flying Circus, either. And with his power level? That frankly terrifies me."
Trashman nodded. "JOEL, if Doctor Pepper attempts to talk about this with his confederates, soundproof his cell. Please give him a club soda and allow him access to television or music if he wants it, though keep a full xolchaprobe suite active while he has the beverage." He looked at Doctor Pepper. "You understand our prudence?"
"Of course. And if I could get something hot to eat, that would be great. Especially if it smells halfway decent. It smells like... old *chum* in here."
"See to it, JOEL." He turned and left, the A.L.U. following him.
Doctor Pepper sat on his bunk, whistling a 70's jingle about soda and waiting for his meal.
* * * * * *
Her name was Coye, and she had begun to figure out things were very, very bad indeed.
She and the mysterious expatriate Xolchipalian Alec Guinness (Coincidence), Corpsman of the Fifth -- whatever *that* was -- had just walked into a maximum security military detention center. No one blinked as they walked through, right up to a cell, and opened it up -- despite the fact that the two people inside were the two thieves who had stolen the Omniquantum Megabracers -- one of the most powerful weapons ever seen. They'd then walked right back out with R'lla of House Dukat -- one of the thieves and the wife of the man who'd stolen said Omniquantum Megabracers and used them in a terrifying engagement, again without being challenged.
Coye was Pentus Mystica of the Magestrix Local 223. She served the interstellar trade and magic guild faithfully, having been embedded as a Sailing Master on the Free Trader Oksana for some years before being activated for a mission. That mission had gone off apparently as expected -- and Coye had been paid a significant bonus by Primus Mystica Jennifer Connelly (Coincidence).
The Magestrix didn't pay bonuses unless the profit was so astronomical as to make *not* paying a bonus worse than paying one. And for the life of her, Coye couldn't see how her mission profited anyone, except some backwater Terran in a domino mask who had walked away with the Omniquantum Megabracers -- and he didn't exactly look rich.
That Guinness had implied that Coye had been paid all those gold tokens -- so named because they were tokens redeemable for gold. Look, not all science fiction names are confusing -- for a mission that was leading to the destruction of the universe didn't make her feel better.
"Coye." R'lla's voice was softer than Coye remembered it being back on the Free Trader Oksana.
"Yeah?"
"You... interfered with the Terrans, but only after they'd cut my husband's arms off. In fact, you made sure the man who got M'Yet's bracers was the same man who maimed him."
"That's right."
"Why?"
"Because I was paid to."
"Paid -- how is that possible? How could you have known to go on leave from the Oksana *months* ago so you could ensure a specific person got the Omniquantum Megabracers when no one even knew we were going to steal them?"
Coye sighed. "I'm with the Magestrix. They told me. So probably a prophecy of some sort."
"You're a mage."
"Yup."
"That's how you cloaked yourself and fired that blast at the woman."
"Yup."
"I thought you were our friend." She didn't sound angry, or even accusatory. Just sad.
"That's the bitch of it. I was. But business comes first."
"She did not know the shape of her mission when she befriended you," Alec said, as mildly as ever. "I am certain she made sure her mission wouldn't involve hurting either of you -- which is true, from a certain point of view. She didn't attack either of you. She didn't try to ensure the Adjusted League would defeat M'Yet. She simply acted after they had."
"It's hard to see it that way, Alec," R'lla said. "Really hard."
"I know. But we do not have time for recriminations. The entire universe is in grave peril because of what you and your husband did here. We must see about putting it right."
"Us?" Coye asked. "A farmer, a Sailing Master who's at best a minor mage, and an old man with the power to cloud Hottentot's minds? We're going to save the universe?"
"Stranger things have happened, friend." Guinness's ever present smile didn't slip. His characteristic Xolchipalian features -- deep red skin, silver hair -- suited that smile.
"Look... I don't even know how I managed to break into the Armory," R'lla said. "It's almost a haze. I don't know what you even think I can bring to the table. I should get back to my husband -- when they discover I'm gone they'll think he helped me escape."
"They will assume no such thing. They will know your husband had nothing to do with it -- and indeed, thanks to his injury, he would not be capable at this time."
"His injury. You make it sound antiseptic. They cut off his arms, Alec. Sliced them off and cauterized his wounds with Xolchipaliax radiation."
"Yes they did, and I am sorry that happened -- but they needed to reclaim the Oanthet and save their own lives and the lives, ultimately, of everyone on Planet Seattle. That was the only way."
"Oanthet?" Coye asked. "I thought they were the Omniquantum Megabracers."
"A nonsense name given to them by an uninformed soldier, Coye. What the Ottsamattawidu military calls a thing is not necessarily what the thing is called."
"Okay -- whatever," Coye said. "R'lla's right. What exactly are we supposed to do? The *Oanthet* isn't even on Planet Seattle any more -- and we don't exactly have a ship. I mean, I can afford tickets almost anywhere, but liners don't go to the Moroboshi Delta."
"Where's that?" R'lla asked. "And can we slow down?"
"Can we?" Alec asked. "Yes. Should we? No."
"The Moroboshi Delta's where the Ottsamattawidu, Kreep, Xolchipalian and other regions of space meet. The only significant planet is Earth, which is where those people were all from. I assume we have to go there. Which is hard without a *ship.*"
"Assumptions are dangerous things, Friend," Alec said. They walked onto the landing field -- full of the smaller trader ships -- small enough to easily land -- as well as a couple of the giant superfreighters that launch from the surface with antigrav only.
"We're going to charter a freighter to get to the Moroboshi Delta?" Coye shook her head. "That's insane. The only trade goods they have are premium beverages and comfortable footwear, and no Trader wants to try and muscle in on the Magestrix."
"Fortunately, there are other options," Guinness said. "Ah! This way." He started walking towards what was clearly a Xolchipalian Defense Forces two man gunboat, only its XDF markings had been covered over with what looked like Xolchaduct tape clumsily applied to look like racing stripes.
"...is this a setup?" R'lla asked, suddenly nervous. "You told me you weren't Exdef."
"I told you that because it is true. The good people aboard that ship are here to meet us, but they're not quite aware of that fact, yet. And I ask you to trust me, my dear. I didn't escort you out of Ottsamattawidu custody, where they have a legitimate cause to arrest and try you, just to hand you over to a Xolchipalian authority that doesn't."
Coye considered. "He does have a point."
R'lla nodded. "All right. Let's go see the nice Exdefs."
* * * * * *
It is perhaps worth noting that 'the nice Exdefs' in question didn't actually care for the term 'Exdef,' whether 'nice' modified it or not. They were, in fact, two officers and one doctor (also technically a doctor, but whatever) of the Xolchipalian Defense Forces, the law enforcement and military arm of the Xolchipalian civiliation. Xolchipalia was the oldest civilization in the galaxy and -- as it turns out -- the entire altiverse, having been around long enough to have actually moved homeworlds more than once because 'this star seems about used up.' The Xolchipalians had the most advanced technology, the most complete understanding of the universe, and the most refined understanding of philosophy of any race in the galaxy. They had long since abandoned any thoughts of conquest or war save to protect other, younger races or safeguard the galaxy as a whole. Instead, they accepted certain worlds as Xolchipalian protectorates by the request of the planet's local government, and had certain member-worlds of the Xolchipalian Confederation, who accepted their place in the Xolchipalian hierarchy and Xolchparliament and enjoyed the fruits of Xolchipalian culture.
It was also worth noting... other races might not have the Xolchipalian understanding of philosophy, but they sure as Hell(tm) knew 'insufferably smug' when they saw it. And generally? Among the Xolchipalian Defense Forces they saw it. A lot.
It is also worth noting that native Xolchipalians have a deep red skin ranging from kind of a burgundy to a blood red, and a range of hair color that always looks white or silver to most other species' eyes. It is *also* worth noting that every Xolchipalian seen to date seems to have the same name and general appearance of a speculative fiction actor of Planet Terra. This is coincidence. As is any apparent mannerisms. In fact, when translating the name of a Xolchipalian out of their native tongue, the parenthetical (coincidence) is a part of that translation as a cultural imperative, to simply reinforce that these clear aliens were not, in fact, the same people who their names, appearances, in-jokes or mannerisms would suggest meant they were those selfsame actors in red greasepaint and wigs. Really. At all. In a clear and legal way.
Parody and satire, it is also worth noting, is protected speech under the United States Constitution, where this work originated, is published and distributed. But I digress.
There is one other point I should note. In the Terran year 1995, the television program 'Star Trek: Voyager' premiered and quickly established itself as 'a Star Trek sequel.' Nevertheless, most people had a lot of hope that the series would end up beloved and adored as others had before it. Just saying.
Aboard the Xolchipalian Defenses Forces two man gunboat that had recently landed on the surface of Planet Seattle... the aforementioned two officers and one doctor weren't perhaps feeling philosophical. Perhaps this was because the two man ship had three crewmembers, meaning the doctor had been sleeping in the brig. Perhaps it was just personalities. And perhaps it was because their commanding officer, Leftenant Commander Ricardo Montalban (Coincidence) and the rest of his command crew had potentially been suborned by an evil intelligence and definitely were acting strangely. The three had executed a ruse along with Leftenant Peter Weller (Coincidence) to make it to planet Seattle and perhaps find out what was going on firsthand -- and maybe get the evidence they needed to report Montalban suborned and prevent whatever nasty thing was going to happen from happening. Presuming, of course, that it hadn't already happened.
The aforementioned doctor's name was Doctor Robert Picardo (coincidence). And he was particularly annoyed -- annoyance being his natural state -- as the three moved to the access hatch and ramp in the cramped vessel. "I can't believe we've come all this way in terrible accommodations only to realize absolutely no one brought a disguise or a change of clothes."
"We didn't exactly have a lot of preparation time," Officer Jennifer Lien (coincidence) said. "We're going to have to do our best.
"Yeah," Officer Michael J. Fox (coincidence) -- who not only wasn't the Terran speculative fiction actor of the same name but was also not the evil AntiElvis as told of by the prophet Mojo Nixon in the seminal work of philosophical understanding yet produced, "Elvis is Everywhere," as can be found at https://youtu.be/mpb4ZAAP6Z4 as of this writing.
Not that we're hinting.
"Yeah," Fox continued to say from above, annoyed at the interruption for a Youtube link. "We have to get out and investigate what's going on. We'll have to just play it by ear."
"Play it by ear?" Doctor Picardo asked. "Play it by ear. I realize you're the field officers and I'm simply medical staff -- if by simply we mean I have encyclopedias more knowledge and skill than either of you -- but am I the only one who thinks this is insane? This is a highly convoluted mystery. We can't expect to open the hatch, extend the ramp, and have the answer walk up to meet us."
"Oh give it a rest," Lien said. "I'll take fresh air and a chance to get more than three meters away from you." She opened the hatch and extended the ramp.
An elder Xolchipalian in the robes of the mysterious Corps of the Fifth started up the ramp, followed by a native of planet South Dakota and a Hottentot. "Well done," he said. "Please close the hatch and prep for takeoff. We haven't much time."
"Excuse me?" Fox squeaked, drawing his Tihorn -- the crowbar shaped sidearm of the Xolchipalian Defense Forces alluded to but not fully explained earlier. "I don't know who you--"
"Holy-- shut up, Fox," Lien said. "That's Alec Guinness (coincidence) -- one of the greatest Supreme Commanders the XDF's ever had! I thought he was dead!"
"Merely retired," Guinness said, stepping around the three. "Come along. We have to get going."
"But we have to investigate the weird--"
The Hottentot woman turned, her antennae crackling lightly with electricity. "Actually, we're probably the only three people on the planet with any hope of explaining this to you, so. Yeah. Well done."
Lien, Fox and Picardo turned, watching them make their way into the now-even-more-cramped gunship.
"We can't expect to open the hatch, extend the ramp, and have a catered lunch delivered to us," Doctor Picardo said.
The three turned around.
A Slackeryan was at the bottom of the ramp, carrying a bag. "Hey there, uh, Exdefs. Um... I got stiffed by a delivery order, and we're just gonna throw these sandwiches away. You want them?"
"I can't believe that worked," Lien said.
"I can't believe we're leaving without using it more extensively," Doctor Picardo said. "I just hope our new passengers realize the brig is spoken for."
IS THE BRIG SPOKEN FOR?
ARE THE SANDWICHES ANY GOOD?
WILL THE XDF GET THE EVIDENCE THEY NEED?
WILL DIANNA GET OVER HER DEPRESSION?
WILL DANGEROUSGIRL FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO?
WILL TRUDY EVER APOLOGIZE TO DIANNA?
WILL TRASHMAN EVER CALM DOWN ABOUT HEALER?
WILL HEALER GET OVER CALFORCE'S SHOCKING BREAKUP?
WILL KENT AND KEY RECONCILE?
WAIT... DIDN'T KENT AND KEY RECONCILE BY THE MID-2000s AND EVEN HAVE A SON AS TOLD IN RAD #91-100?
ARE WE SERIOUSLY POSTING A REACTION POST TO A POST THAT WAS POSTED TWENTY BLOODY YEARS AGO AND ACTING LIKE IT'S SOMEHOW FRESH?
ARE WE SERIOUSLY PICKING UP A 1996 PLOTLINE IN A SERIES THAT ALREADY HAS AN OVERDUE *SEQUEL* SERIES?
WHAT'S NEXT? THE NEXT EPISODE OF ERIC AND BART?
OH -- AND IS THE UNIVERSE GOING TO BE DESTROYED?
It seems likely. Regardless, Superguy's your hookup in situations like this!
Elizabeth "Healer" Tirkoff created by Gary W. Olson, used by arrangement
Portentous Piranha created by William R. Dickson, used by arrangement
Roger Nobody created by *THE* Mason Kramer, used by arrangement
Kent "Mighty Guy" Clark created by Eric Burns-White, appears courtesy Gary W. Olson