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

Previously on SFSTORY...

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

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

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

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

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

And now, on SFSTORY...

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

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

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

"Not FUR, ma bon amie, FEW!"

"FEW?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Emperor Ralph?" asked Time Agent 357.

"Science Squad?" asked Diana Dark.

"Beer?" asked Doctor Bing Von Spleen.

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

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

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

These were heroes?

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

And he did.

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

But how?

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

Quite simple, no?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What conditions?" Diana Dark asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright 2006 by Troy H. Cheek. Free to read, but please reprint only with permission.