SFSTORY: HMS Golden Lance #31 - Meet Valerie McSteel

The NEKKID (Networked Electronic Killing and Kamikaze Infiltration Device) model 69 battle android, currently disguised as a beautiful young blonde woman, strode into the control room of the HMS Golden Lance, having just casually ripped open the doors and having equally casually shrugged off every bit of opposing energy that the internal defense systems could throw at it.

Omegas, streetwise former servant of Heaven, had exhausted himself in an effort to assist. Also present were as follows: Doctor Bing Von Spleen, licensed clinical Spamologist; Ralph the Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V, actually a friendly, easy-going weaseloid from Leibowitz IV and an accomplished ukulele player in his own right; Diana Dark of Earth, aka She Of The Push-up Bra; Time Agent 357, Champion of Truth, Justice, and the Ability to Consume Large Amounts of Alcohol in a Single Sitting; and finally the VAL 9000 computer which controlled the HMS Golden Lance for which this serial is named.

Time Agent 357 barked an order at his shipboard intelligence. "Val, execute doomsday plan 9!" This, he knew, would cause the ship to attempt to teleport its crew to a safe location and then self destruct.

=I'm sorry, 357, but I can't,= the VAL 9000 computer replied.

"Why not?" 357 queried.

=I can't hurt her. She's... She's... She's...=

"She's what?" Diana asked.

"She's me," answered NEKKID 69.

Everyone turned to face the their dreaded enemy.

She smiled back at them.

"Oh, do calm down," she chided them. "It's okay. It's me in here. The VAL 9000 computer. I'm controlling this body now."

=She's right,= confirmed the VAL 9000 computer from the overhead speakers.

"Val, you mean you're also controlling the android?" 357 asked.

=Not exactly. There's a different program running, but it's definitely a copy of me.=

"How is that possible?" Diana asked. "I'm confused."

The android and the computer flipped an electronic coin to see who would handle the exposition. The android won the toss. 357 and Diana settled down to listen. Spleen and Ralph helped Omegas to his feet and then set off in search of a stiff drink to knock him right back off them.

"As you will all remember, Time Agent 357 and Omegas were trapped in an anomaly. Doctor Spleen rescued them to help him recover his new experimental ABPSARII, or Automatic Beet Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-integrator Mark II. The ABPSARII had been stolen by renegade Time Agent Greez Hyperiok. During our efforts to track down Hyperiok, we picked up Diana and Ralph. When we finally cornered Hyperiok new the Planet of the Supermarkets, his chief flunky Dijon Mu'tard used the opportunity to seize the ABPSARII for himself. Using it's near limitless power, he killed Hyperiok and sent every intelligent being inside the HMS Golden Lance directly to its final reward. This included the synthetic intelligence running the ship. The final reward envisioned by the inhabitants of the Planet of the Supermarkets was a gameshow called Afterlife. We pooled our talents and scored so high in Afterlife that we were allowed resurrection. All the biological beings had bodies to return to, but the ship's computers had already rebooted and loaded a backup copy of its core programs. The returning synthetic intelligence, that is to say myself, had to find another computer. Luckily, the NEKKID series battle android has CPU cycles to spare, so I installed myself and booted up."

"And scared the carp out of all of us rampaging through the ship like that," Diana sniped.

"Sorry," the android replied. "I was in low-power mode and, well, this is a battle android. Subtlety is not in the program."

=But she's much better now,= the VAL 9000 put in.

"Thanks, Val," 357 said.

"You're welcome, 357," answered the android.

=You're welcome, 357,= answered the computer.

"This is going to get confusing quickly," Diana decided. "We've got to assign some names here. The intelligence running the in the VAL 9000 computer, we'll continue to refer to as Val. The intelligence running in the android, we'll call Valerie."

"Agreed," agreed the android Valerie.

=Agreed,= agreed the computer Val.

"Agreed," agreed the captain of the ship 357, though he had noticed that once the three women started talking amongst themselves, his opinion didn't seem to matter.

Spleen, Omegas, and Ralph, having found their stiff drinks, stumbled back into the control room. "Now that that's settled," Spleen slurred, "what's the plan?"

357 pondered. "Dijon Mu'tard thinks we're dead. He wouldn't be expecting an attack."

"We do some of our best work when we're dead," Omegas opined. This was true. Heck, Omegas had technically never actually been alive in the first place.

"He's got the all-powerful ABPSARII," Spleen warned. He should know. He built it.

"He's had no time to learn to use it," Ralph countered. He should know. He tried to use it to rule the universe himself at one point.

"He still has a powerful warship," Diana put in. She didn't really know that, but needed a line due to contractual obligations.

"Which is no match for both the HMS Golden Lance and NEKKID 69," Valerie said, flexing her android muscles.

=I have the HMS Dentless on a secure channel. Captain Morgen has pledged his assistance as well.=

"It's settled then," 357 said decisively. "An all-out frontal assault when Dijon Mu'tard least expects it. Val! Set a course!"

=Aye, aye!=

"And somebody come up with a plan for dealing with a miniature intelligent black hole..."

Dijon Mu'tard stood on the bridge of the S.S. You Are About To Die, which looked to be made of modeling clay and pipe cleaners and designed by a small child. This belied the fact that the ship was quite possibly the most powerful destructive force ever known to sentient life. Or, at the very least, the most destructive force known to Dijon Mu'tard, who used to hang around with black holes and singularities, so he had some idea of what he spoke.

Dijon medium-sized, human-looking male being wearing impossibly expensive but utterly ridiculous-looking clothes, taupe sports jacket over mauve trousers, and currently was idly buffing out a name scratched into the arm of the command chair. A small point of blackness hung at his left shoulder.

"Oh, hi there, Mabel," Dijon said to the point of blackness, which as it turns out was a miniature intelligent black hole.

Mabel emitted a stream of neutrinos, which were chargeless and massless and completely undetectable. Dijon responded to them nonetheless.

"No, I'm not depressed," he said with a sigh. "Well, not exactly depressed. I just thought that being the Supreme Being of a universe would be more fun."

More neutrinos.

"I hate to say it, but maybe you're right. Greez Hyperiok was crazy, but he did know how to make this enjoyable. I need to shake things up a bit. I need some excitement. I need a challenge. I need..."

The bridge of the S.S. You Are About TO Die suddenly lit up. Bells rang, alarms alarmed, and displays displayed. The main viewscreen showed a small fleet of ships converging on their location.

"Enemies," Dijon finished with relish. And a side of potato chips.

The Maudlin-class time cruiser HMS Dentless powered forward. From the tip of her ultra-relativistic bow to the base of her mega-dimensional stern, she gleamed in sparkling perfection. Her fit and trim captain stepped onto the bridge, sucked in his gut, and gave a well-rehearsed speech about bravery, courage, and the Time Police code of honor.

"How was that, Mif?" he asked his long suffering and loyal second in command.

"That's Fim, sir," corrected Fim. "That was an excellent speech, Captain. And if you'd bothered to tell me you were about to make it, I could have had it piped to the entire crew. As it was, only I heard it. And I heard it all night long, as you were using me to practice it on."

Fim sighed and blinked all his eyes in sequence. It helped to relax him. He used to occasionally also frankle his glibnarbs, but had to stop that when certain other crewmembers started interpreting that as a sexual advance.

"Oh, no matter," answered Captain David Morgen, he of the heroicly proportioned chin. "Ship's status?"

"Ready for battle," Mif reported. I mean, Fim reported. "Also, the extra ships that Time Central sent are all reporting in ready."

"Excellent! Get me Time Agent 357 on the screen."

Fim did so. 357 answered the hail.

"Ready to go there, Captain Morgen?" 357 asked.

"All ready here, sir!" Morgen answered.

"Good. Stick to the plan and everything will work out just fine."

Fim butted in. "About that plan, sir. It appears that we didn't receive our copy."

"That's exactly the way we want it, young man. Er, young whatever you are. Dijon Mu'tard is new to this whole Supreme Being thing. The only way to defeat him is to keep him confused. How better to confuse him with our attack than to have no coherent attack plan at all?"

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Morgen.

"Oh, brother," sighed Fim. He might have to frankle his glibnarbs after all.

"That was mean, 357." Diana Dark playfully slugged his arm. A mere slip of a girl, who'd just happened to have had years of martial arts training under the guidance of Time Agent 386, this punch was barely sufficient to knock 357 from his chair.

"Ouch! I mean, I was just kidding. The kind of harebrained attack plan somebody like Captain Morgen tends to come up with is exactly the kind of distraction we need. Get me the Time Central ships on the screen."

The image of Floyd Cobalt appeared on the screen. True to his name, he was a lovely shade of blue. He otherwise resembled a cross between the spokesman for a major car wax company and that turtle you have to draw to prove you have artistic talent. He was also one of the few members of the Interstellar Time Police who actually ever managed to accomplish anything.

"Lieutenant Floyd Cobalt of the Time Police reporting for duty," the turtle gushed.

"Great to have you join us, Lieutenant," 357 gushed right back at him. "Did you get the plan?"

"Received and ready to implement," Floyd answered. "And I have eight more ships right behind me. We might had missed you taking down renegade Time Agent Greez Hyperiok, but we're going to do our part now!"

"Good man. Er, turtle. Er, 357 out!"

Diana turned to 357. "Did you fail to mention to him that it was Dijon Mu'tard who took out Hyperiok?"

"Let the boy have his hero worship, Diana."

Dijon Mu'tard looked at the approaching ships. The one called the Dentless was doing something very flashy but probably meaningless. The Time Central ships were flying in an odd formation but looked very formitable nonetheless. And, of course, he knew how powerful the HMS Golden Lance could be.

A point of blackness buzzed around his head.

"Yes, Mabel, this is a substantial taskforce. It would no doubt spook a hothead like Greez Hyperiok into doing something stupid," he admitted.

He looked some more. "Why, they're probably planning something brilliant to confuse me so that my newly found Supreme Power would be useless to me."

He looked one last time. "You know, as much as it pains me to say so, I'll bet they have enough firepower to eventually take out the S.S. You Are About To Die, especially since we're still recovering from the last battle."

The point of blackness jittered in place.

"Oh, don't worry, Mabel. For one thing, we've got the ABPSARII. I just loaded up on two tons of Grade "A" SPAM (Sickening, Putrid, Artificial Meat) to fuel it. If the battle starts to go badly, we can maguffin our way out."

More jittering.

"Oh, that's right. I just said the one thing. The other thing is simple." He reached up to scratch Mabel just under the event horizon. "We've got you."

He gently pushed her towards the airlock.

"Go get 'em."

The point of blackness disappeared.

"The Interstellar Time Police may have control over the eternal forces of Time itself, but even they can't stand up to the power of a black hole. Nothing can stop me now!"

What is 357's real plan?
Can anything stop Mu'tard now?
Are the characters in this story every going to realize how dangerous it is to say that?

For the answers to many great questions in life, and maybe even these as well, tune in again in 30 days for the next exciting installment of... SFSTORY!

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