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                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
                              THE KILLING OF TIME
                                   Episode 1
                             "When We Left Off..."
                                      by
                                 Gary W. Olson

                                     -~-_-

     "Pope Joe Don I, people don't like you," Satan T. Lucifer Jones said, as
he took another bite of steak.  His dinner guest looked up from his dinner,
and belched loudly.
     Satan merely smiled.  This would be easy.
     "Bekn'kse, more soup," he said.  "Like I was saying, Joe Don I, people
don't like you.  You've got to reach out to them, try to cultivate them."
     "I don't quite follow you, Mr. Jones," the Pope said, as Milagro Bekn'kse,
wearing a tuxedo, brought some soup over to Satan's side of the dining table
and began ladling it into his bowl.  An eyeball fell out of the ladle, and
splashed Satan's tie with blood.  Pope Joe Don I seemed unfazed.
     "You've got to be nice to them," Satan said.  "You never know when they'll
be useful."
     "Um, I've got a few questions, if you don't mind," Joe Don I said, as he
slipped a couple bread rolls into his papal robes.  "About the spam
shipments, for instance."
     Satan looked away, to prevent Joe Don I from seeing his expression.  Did
the fool really believe he could prevent the forces of Hell from smuggling
Spam to Earth?
     "The soup's cold, Bekn'kse," Satan said, instead.  "You're a lousy
butler."
     "I am not!" Milagro protested.
     "I say you're a lousy butler," Satan repeated.
     "I am not!" Milagro repeated.
     Satan took a nine-iron out from under the table and impaled Milagro with
it.
     "The customer...is always right..." Milagro groaned, as he staggered off.
     "About the spam, Mr. Jones..." Joe Don I started.
     "Stop asking about the spam," Satan told him.  "Listen, Joe Don I, you're
smart.  Surely we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement..."
     "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones," Joe Don I said.  "I've been told to keep an eye
on you, and that's what I'm going to do."  He stood up, pocketing an extra
steak.   "I think I'd better be getting back now."
     Satan watched as Joe Don I put on his pointy papal hat and walked
through the dimensional gate.  As soon as he was gone, he cursed and stabbed
Milagro with his butter knife, out of spite.  Milagro yelped, but continued
to clear the table.
     "He's been told to watch me," Satan grumbled.  "Who could have told him
that?"
     "Go-" Milagro started.  Satan slashed his throat before he could finish
the word.
     "Yes, I know, the Big Guy," Satan said.  "Now, in the Superguy altiverse,
he's not much of a problem, because he sleeps all the time.  But here, on
the Sfstory side of the listserv, he's making things as difficult as ever."
He handed his dishes to Milagro, then kicked him in the kneecap just to
watch him drop them all.
     "There's got to be something I can do, though," he said.  Subsequently,
he did something.  That is, he pressed a red button at one corner of the table.
"Susan, get in here."

                                     -~-_-

     "'Nother scotch, m'boy," Kalvin Certain mumbled, holding out his hand.
He waited, patiently.
     Presently, he noted that a scotch had not been placed in his hands,
and that no one was sitting too close to where he was slumped in the hard
liquor aisle of the Planet of Supermarkets.
     Actually, to call it an aisle would be like calling Disneyworld a
merry go round.  It extended for many thousands of miles, snaking its way
back and forth across three continents and four oceans, and contained
every type of beverage that a sentient mind would find intoxicating, from
tequila and scotch for the humanoids, to liquid methane and drain cleaner
for the Velkothians of Sinus III, to clear spring water, which the
Wzaxtil enjoy when it is splashed upon their unconscious, insectoid bodies,
to Zima, enjoyed by...um...
     Um...
     We'll get back to you on that.
     Kalvin Certain lurched uncertainly to his feet, pulling his frayed,
foppish coat around himself as he looked one way down the aisle, and then
down the other.  There were some customers moving up and down the aisle,
loading bottles into their carts, which they would steer around the
winos that they encountered every 30.4 feet.
     No security in sight.  Perfect.
     As he reached for the bottle of scotch, which was on the second shelf
from the top, he thought about how his life had taken something of a
downturn ever since crash landing on the Planet of Supermarkets.  He had
expected that he would be off the planet within the week, but here it was,
almost a year later.  Megabot had gone and joined the Planetary Security
Staff.  Alexander, beautiful Alexander, had wandered into the meat
department one day, and had never been seen again, except for three months
later, when Kalvin stole a package of hot dogs, opened them up, and found
Alexander's ring around one of them.
     He lifted the bottle of scotch, and started to saunter, casually,
down the aisle.  Before getting three feet away, an ear-splitting siren
started up, an the PA speaker started squawking: "Shoplifter in aisle
35,949.  Shoplifter in aisle 35,949..."
     Kalvin grumbled, as he started running.

                                     -~-_-

     Far, far away, Lark Purree, aka Time Agent 90210, was confused.  And
lest you think that, since he bore a startling resemblence to Luke Perry,
this was to be expected, you should be aware that Lark was not often
confused.
     He ran his fingers through his short hair, which still had not fully
grown back after the battle against the OmniDean.  His sideburns seemed out
of place, but there was a reason for that.
     The source of Lark's confusion smiled, and flexed his fingers.
     "Your assignment," the source, who bore the name of Sajanseel Boudoir,
the Time Agent number of 914, and a strong resemblence to John Saxon, said,
"is to escort Special Operations Agent Melu Ulem to Earth, and assist her
in her mission there."
     "What is her mission?" Lark asked.  "And if she's Special Operations,
why doesn't someone in the department escort her?"
     "I can't tell you that," Boudoir told him.  "The agent will give you
information on a need to know basis.  Furthermore, she will be in command of
the entire operation."
     Lark opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again.  He had seen
the orders that Boudoir had sent him, orders that had been initialed by
Floyd, the acting cheif of Time Central (the real cheif, Ian Lockheed,
having left on a mission some time ago).
     "Very well, sir," he said.  "When do I leave?"
     "Tomorrow morning," Boudoir told him.  "You'll meet her at your ship,
the HMS Shannon II."  Lark nodded, and turned to leave.  "Oh, one more
thing, Lark."
     "Sir?" Lark asked.
     "Your AI, BRENDA, isn't included in the mission profile."
     "Understood, sir," Lark said, as he headed out.

                                     -~-_-

     Kissy Hitowers screamed.
     The reason for her screaming advanced closer, smiling in an intrinsically
evil manner.  He was smiling because he had foam earplugs in his ears, and,
as a consequence, could not be incapacitated by the volume and pitch of her
scream, as half of his soldiers had been.
     "Do not scream so," he said, smiling.  "I only want you to join my
harem on a trial basis, you see."
     "Well, I sort of have to scream," she stopped screaming, long enough to
explain.  "It's part of my training."  The training Kissy referred to was
her academic training at Intergalactic University to become a Space Ingenue.
She was in her senior year, and at the top of her class.  Currently, she was
working on her senior project in Being Terrorized 440.
     The villain who was stalking her, Governor Eldermais Schlub, the Butcher
of Barugon B, the Terror of Tylenol X, the Bar-Tab-Runner-Upper of Barbados,
was completely unaware that his evil intentions were helping the cause of
education, as his attention was completely focused on another aspect of
Space Ingenue-hood that Kissy Hitowers got straight A's in: she looked really,
really great in her nylon jumpsuit.
     Kissy resumed her screaming, as Schlub and his personal guards advanced.
They were deep within his high-tech, heavily defended fortress, with no
avenue of escape open.  She was unarmed, except for her scream.
     Now was the moment of truth.  Would she be rescued, and consequently
finish her senior project, ensuring her graduation from IU?  Or would the
Governor have his way with her, and make her part of his harem, forcing her
to live in extreme luxury, comfort, and depravity?
     The answer came in the form of an explosion that blew the far wall in.
Schlub had only half a second to utter a villainous threat before a matterpulse
beam turned his head into fettucini.  His guards didn't fare much better, and
Kissy found herself screaming in an empty, smoky room.
     Moments later, some forms emerged from the smoke.  One of them had
catlike facial features, though he was humanoid.  Another was reptilian, and
carried a large matterpulse rifle.  A third, with small, conical horns and
human facial features, emerged from the smoke and dashed up to her.
     "Are you all right?" he asked.
     "Who are you?" Kissy asked back.
     The man blinked.
     "I'm Benjen," he said.  "Are you Kissy Kitomers?"
     "Hitowers," she corrected, getting annoyed.
     "Sorry," he said.  "Anyway, we're here to rescue you."
     "Oh, joy," Kissy sighed.  "Did you bring the rest of the swing boy choir
with you?"
     "Hey!" Benjen said.  "We came all the way here just to find you..."
     "Oh, never mind," Kissy said.  "Let's get out of here."
     Benjen sighed, and signaled to Slithis and Jerriphrrt.

                                     -~-_-

     Pope Joe Don I slouched into his bedroom, throwing his papal robes onto
the back of a chair.  He was tired of explaining to his Cardinals that he
was spending his evenings in quiet meditation, which was his cover story.
They wouldn't understand, much like they didn't understand when he issued a
papal decree that Schlitz could be substituted for wine during Communion.
     He looked around for the Big Guy.  Sometimes He appeared to him here, as
he did the day he gave Joe Don I his assignment.  But he wasn't here tonight,
it appeared.
     Joe Don I slipped into bed, and had almost closed his eyes when he
realized there was a book on his nightstand.  He could have sworn there was
a pile of beer cans there when he had left to have dinner with Satan T.
Lucifer Jones.
     He turned on the lamp, and looked at the title of the book:
     _How to Build an ABPSARI With Materials You Find Around the House_ by Dr.
Bing Von Spleen, the Earth's Foremost Spamologist.
     Unimpressed, Joe Don I turned out the light, and went to sleep.

WILL JOE DON I BECOME MORE IMPRESSED AS THE SERIES GETS UNDERWAY?
WILL SATAN FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO ABOUT JOE DON I, IF ANYTHING?
WILL MILAGRO BEKN'KSE LEARN TO WEAR ARMOR?
WILL KALVIN CERTAIN BE CAPTURED?
WHY ARE BENJEN, SLITHIS, AND JERRIPHRRT RESCUING A SPACE INGENUE MAJOR?
WHY IS A JOHN SAXON-LOOKALIKE ORDERING A LUKE PERRY-LOOKALIKE TO DO ANYTHING?
WHY HASN'T THERE BEEN AN SFSTORY POST IN CLOSE TO NINE MONTHS, UNTIL NOW?

Answers are ephemeral, but Sfstory isn't.  How 'bout them apples?

        Gary W. Olson         <^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v
swede@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu  >  "If you're so special, why aren't you dead?"
     swede@drycas.bitnet      <      - The Breeders, "I Just Wanna Get Along"