🚀 go-pugleaf

(continued from part one, mate!)

                                 |||---^---|||

     Half a world away, HAL pondered Chalandra's reaction to his news.  It
hadn't startled her, exactly, but it had caused a reaction.  Ever since
Karina Selanova had returned from Planet California with news about Akane,
she had seemed distant.  HAL, of course, did not inquire.
     It was just as well that he hadn't been able to inform her of the
tribulations that Akane and Shadebeam undergoing.  What he was seeing through
their link was disturbing, and somewhat reminiscent of an earlier episode, in
which Healer had been the one probing through their minds.  But there would
be nothing that Chalandra could do about it in any case, and telling her would
only compound an already difficult situation.
     The portion of him that was in contact with Akane's mind lay in a
protected directory, much like his data corridor link to a protected account
at drycas had been, until Akane had discovered it.  HAL had learned from that
episode, and Tom McCavish-Laffalot, who had taken over as CalForce's resident
computer expert, would need epic levels of luck to deduce its existence.
     Other portions of him, protected from outside monitoring but open to
internal scrutiny, were functioning as always.  His game with JOEL was
reaching the decisive stages, and might be concluded in another few months.
Calls from Criticalman's many fans were routed to his agent at Altiversal/
Rival Studios; faxes and strip-o-grams were recorded and stored for later
retrieval; t.v. shows were taped.  He studied the series of low-level
earthquakes that were occuring in the eastern Pacific, with epicenters tending
westward.  The Xolchaportation links saw little activity, and no one had
transmatted in since Karina, the month before...
     A signal reached HAL, telling him that this was about to change.  HAL's
transmat subroutine checked the origin codes and security codes, double-
verifying them before HAL transmitted acceptance codes.  Split-seconds later,
a transmat link was established, bridging the mind-boggling chasm between
planets.  He touched GLADYS' mind but briefly, as a transmat was no time for
personal chatting, and established physical mattergrid patternlock.
     Then, the energy flowed, and HAL's subsystems routed it to CalForce's
transmat chamber.  Though it had been integrated with the far superior
Xolchaportation station technology over a year ago, it still produced cheesy
BBC special effects as a side-effect of the energy-to-matter reintegration
process.
     The process was complete, and the visitor stood upon the transmat pad,
in mid-blink.  The whole process had taken less than two seconds, during which
his life-processes had been suspended.
     "Like, dudes?" Rad asked, looking around.
     <<CalForce is away, on a mission in Belgium, Dave,>> HAL told him.
<<There are Xolchaportation stations in Europe, within hours of their current
location.  I can-->>
     "Like, no, HAL dude," Rad said.  "I'm, like, not here to, like, see
them."
     <<I see, Dave,>> HAL said, as Rad exited the transmat chamber for the
hallway.  <<Is there anything I can help with?>>
     There were a number of priveledge levels accorded to guests in CalForce
headquarters, dependent on their status and relations with members of the team.
Ordinary citizens were accorded Status Level Budweiser priveledges, which
generally meant that they either weren't allowed in, or, if they came in by
legitimate transmat code, their access to the base would be severely
restricted.  Heroes known to CalForce were typically accorded Status Level
Bass Ale, which included the hallway, the elevator, the debriefing room and
monitoring station, the hangar bay and the rugby field, but did not include
the team members' suites, the rec room, the training rooms, or the wet bar.
The members of CalForce had Status Level Guinness, which was basically the
whole shooting match.  (There was a fourth status level, below the other
three, known as Status Level Zima, reserved especially for politicians,
mob figures, and USA Network executives.  Rarely did any attempt to visit
CalForce HQ, owing to the provision that mandated that all visitors with
Zima Level Clearance be hit in the face with a large fish.)
     Only a few people outside of CalForce had Status Level Guinness
priveledges.  Laura McCavish-Laffalot, of course.  Galaxy Hunter, GLADYS,
and Glum, naturally.
     Rad, as you've probably already guessed, had those same priveledges.
Had Rad requested such, HAL would reappropriate system resources to help him
with his current situation, same as he would for any member of CalForce.
     "Um, like, no, dude, thanks," Rad told him.  "I'm just going to, like,
fly around, like, a bit.  See, like, some sights, y'know?"
     HAL's voice analyzers detected the lie immediately.
     <<Very well, Dave,>> HAL said.  <<Have fun.>>
     HAL realized it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to take
it back.  Rad said nothing, only nodding and heading down the corridor,
towards the hangar bay.  It was 7 p.m, on the west coast of North America,
and the sun had a ways to go before it disappeared underneath the blue
horizon.
     Rad stood on the edge, and looked at the sun.  He smiled, briefly,
as his toes left the edge.
     HAL watched him fly away, heading away from the beach.
     Curious.

                                 |||---^---|||

     Manny looked at the clock.  Almost seven a.m.  Mighty Guy and MeltDown
would be reporting in in a few minutes from their survey of the southern,
Walloon provinces, following the reports from MIcrovax and HotFlash from
the northern, Flemish provinces.  Criticalman was downtown, attempting to
follow Eivandt's trail from the point where he disappeared.
     Chalandra had made him catch a few hours of sleep, promising that she
would wake him before the sun came up.  The sun was just peeking over the
horizon now, and Manny sat up, forcing his eyes open.
     It was disorienting to be in his old room, after being away for so
many years.  The only thing they hadn't kept was his and Eivandt's bunk
bed - it had, apparently, been reduced to kindling through inexplicable
circumstances by his cousin, Precious, when she visited his parents two years
before.
     Everything else was the same, from the wrestling trophys on the bookcase
to the model of the original Enterprise made entirely out of waffles to the
pictures of family members on the wall.  Old Manny Seconds, his father's
father, an Englishman who had moved to Antwerp a year after World War II
ended.  His grandmothers, Quick on his father's side and Passing on his
mother's, together in one of the last photos of either woman.  Quick, a
Flemish woman, had died of old age five years ago.  Passing, a German woman
who moved to Brussels from the far eastern section of Belgium, died in a
freak waffle accident in the sixties.
     In the center of the display was a picture of his parents, taken soon
after their wedding.  It had been hard leaving them behind, when he and
Eivandt decided to try to find their fortunes in the U.S.  Aphue, who had
visited the states a number of times, both in his professional capacity as
Professor of Philosophy and in private trips to visit his brother and his
niece, encouraged the move, while Gwen's support was more reluctant.  They
promised they would return to visit frequently; this was, in fact, the first
time they had been back in nearly a decade.
     He heard someone coming up the steps, and forced himself into a seated
position by the time the door swung open.  His mother poked her head in.
     "Chalandra says that she has to get some sleep," Gwen told him.  "So
far, there aren't any clues."
     "Something'll turn up, ma," Manny told her, as he stood.  "It always
does."
     "Of course, dear," Gwen said.  She looked at him, curiously.  "You
haven't been abusing dangerous narcotics, have you?"
     "Ma!"
     "I'm sorry, but looking at your costume..."
     "Ma!"
     "Don't you 'ma!' me, young man," his mother said.  "Now come on.  Your
young ladyfriend looks exhausted."  Manny followed Gwen down the narrow
staircase, and emerged into the living room.  Chalandra looked up from the
communications equipment and smiled.
     "Bout time," she said.  "I've got to get into my casket."
     "Casket?" Gwen asked.
     "It's...ah...a Californian thing, mom," Manny said, quickly, as Chalandra
unfolded her port-a-casket and got inside.  She blew a kiss at Manny before
shutting the lid.
     "I don't know, son," Gwen said.  "I've noticed some weird behaviors in
her."
     "Not unusual for this family," Manny answered.
     "I know, and I try to be open-minded," Gwen answered.  "But I worry.
Are you sure she's the right woman for you?"
     "Ma!"
     "There you go again!"
     "Sorry, ma," Manny said.  "Er...how much do you know about the team?"
     "Well, I do see the evening news, now and then," she said.  "But mostly
they just talk about you and Eivandt, when they talk about your team..."
     "...Criticalman here," the radio sqawked.  "Come in, Chal, over."
     "This is Confusion," Manny said, picking up the transciever.  "What'cha
got for me?"
     "I found something," Criticalman told him.  "Or, more accurately, it
was found for me."
     "Pardon?"
     "Apparently, word's gotten out that Eivandt's missing," Criticalman said.
"Half the city is out asking the other half and each other what happened.
One of them brought me the disguise that Eivandt had been wearing at the
tavern yesterday afternoon.  Looks like a standard 'groucho glasses' disguise,
and the mustache has traces of the microbrew that that tavern serves.  The
person who brought it to me said they saw him getting into a van with
Psybernet and Arsenal."
     "Did he see which way they were headed?" Manny asked.
     "No, but I asked around, and others reported seeing the van heading
southwest, towards Waterloo."
     "Got it," Manny said.  "I'll contact the others, have them concentrate
on that region."
     "Right-o," Criticalman responded.  "Out."

                                 |||---^---|||

     There was a metallic whine, and the chamber door opened.  Someone who had
once been No-Eyelids Man stepped out.  He ignored the gaping looks that the
Unimaginable League Amoral were giving him and headed over to the suit rack,
from which he selected a tuxedo and top hat.  Some fat had been trimmed from
his body, but it was evident that he had not been given super-strength or
agility.  There was only one area where it was apparent that a change had
been made: his head.
     Or, to be accurate, the huge eyeball that had replaced his head.
     He placed the top hat atop his eyeball, and swiveled it to gaze at
Nimbus, Egoiste, the Crimson Crowbar, Psybernet, Arsenal, and Eivandt.  They
were still gaping, though not exactly from awe.
     It was Nimbus who recovered first.
     "Whaaaaaat?" he asked.  "*This* is an *improvement?*"
     "Maybe we missed a few pellets," Egoiste suggested.
     "Don't jump to conclusions," Psybernet said.  "He hasn't yet demonstrated
his new abilities."
     "Yes," Frakes (coincidence) intoned, woodenly.  "Please, my friend, show
us how you have been improved by the Ubermachine."
     The former No-Eyelids Man turned his large eyeball, fractionally, and
fired a meter-thick red beam through the wall, barely missing Egoiste and
Eivandt.
     "Yipes!" they commented.
     "Whoah," Nimbus said, looking through the hole.  The others looked through
the hole in the wall, and saw that succeeding walls had holes as well, all the
way through the house to the other side.  The hill next to the house also had
a clean hole through it.
     *How was that?* a voice asked, telepathically.
     "You're a telepath, too?" Psybernet asked.
     *I can send my thoughts,* the former No-Eyelids Man said.  *It was a
necessary adjustment, as I no longer have a mouth.*
     "So how are you going to eat, or drink?" Arsenal asked.
     *I can demonstrate,* he answered.  *Sir, do you have any waffles handy?*
     "Why, yes, of course," Frakes (coincidence) intoned woodenly.  He pointed
to a stack of fresh Belgian waffles (the waffles that made Belgium famous!)
that was on a nearby coffee table.  A huge eyeball swiveled to regard them.
     A blue beam leapt from the eyeball, striking the waffles dead center.
The ULA watched the waffles turn into blue light, and get sucked into the
center of the eyeball.  When the display was over, their reaction was unanimous.
     "Hey, that was breakfast!" they complained.
     "So what's your new name going to be, anyway?" Nimbus asked.
     *I was thinking,* the former No-Eyelids Man said.  *How would 'the
Unusually Large, Mobile, Death-Ray-Emitting Eyeball' sound?*
     "ULMDREE?" Frakes (coincidence) asked, intoning woodenly.
     "How about 'Stigmata?'" Egoiste asked.
     *That would be acceptable,* Stigmata answered.
     "Great," Frakes (coincidence) intoned, woodenly.  "Now that that's
settled, we are ready to demonstrate it to our buyer, who just happens to be
arriving as we speak."
     *I thought they didn't have plot contrivances in Europe,* Stigmata
commented.
     Frakes (coincidence) left the room, and returned, moments later, with two
people.  The ULA recognized the shorter of the two, immediately, as Dr.
Madhatter, last reported active in Nepal.  He smiled, cordially.
     The identity of the other, taller person startled them.  They knew that
Frakes (coincidence) was insane, but they had not realized that he was capable
of dealing with...a politician.
     "Hello," U.S. Vice President Al Gore droned.  "I'm here to see the
Ubermachine.  Is it ready?"

WHY IS AL GORE INTERESTED IN BUYING THE UBERMACHINE?
DOES HE RESENT HAVING ONLY STATUS LEVEL ZIMA CLEARANCE AT CALFORCE HQ?
WHY IS DR. MADHATTER WITH HIM?
WHERE IS RAD HEADING?
WILL THE ULA HAVE BREAKFAST BEFORE DEMONSTRATING THE MACHINE?
WILL THEY HAVE WAFFLES?
DID KENT ENJOY HIS BRUSSELS SPROUTS?

The Superguy Channel.  Always On.

        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"