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                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
                              THE WASTING OF SPACE
                                   Episode 2
                                   "Croquet"
                                      by
                                 Gary W. Olson

                                     -~-_-

     "Stop thief!" the security bots droned as they shot at Kalvin Certain.
Kalvin cursed, and dashed farther into the garden supplies sector of the
Planet of Supermarkets, forcing customers to dive out of the way.  The
bottle of scotch he had pinched was long gone now, half consumed by him
during a brief interlude in the chase, the rest wasted when he was forced
to use it as a weapon.
     It was the end for him, he realized.  If one was good, one could elude
the security bots, but only if one shook them before they got a locater fix
on one.  If one did not do that, one quickly found that one was history, and
furthermore, one would be referred to in the impersonal by the narrator.
     Kalvin Certain, the one in question, leapt boldly over a topsoil
display and knocked over a stand of rakes.  He cried out as one of the rake
handles sprang up to hit him in a slapstick manner.  Snarling, he knocked
it aside, and lifted another gardening implement off one of the racks,
determined to make a last stand.
     When the first security bot turned the bend, he rammed the implement's
spikes into the bot's faceplace.  Sparks surged along the metal blades, and
the head started to billow smoke moments later.
     "Ha!" Kalvin yelled.  "Didn't expect a Jerry Baker autographed garden
weasel, did you?!?"  He grabbed another one off the shelf and grabbed a
nearby customer, holding the blades to the customer's throat.  The security
bots that rounded the corner stopped when they saw this.
     "Anybody moves," Kalvin breathed, menacingly, "and he gets cultivated to
a uniform two-inch depth."
     "Ulp," the random customer gulped.
     Kalvin began backing up slowly, forcing the customer to back up with him.
The security bots stayed in their places, as did the other customers, watching
the hostage drama play itself out.
     "Almost there," Kalvin said.  "Just a few feet more, and I'll be at the
riding mowers.  Then let's see them stop me!"  He stopped when his back hit
something metallic.  Something metallic...and humming.
     Kalvin turned his head around, and looked up at Megabot.
     He blinked.  And blinked again.
     "Oh, hi," he finally said.
     Megabot, of course, did not reply, unless you count the sound of his
chest mounted magna-cannon priming to fire a form of communication.  Kalvin
certainly did.
     "I...er...I surrender," Kalvin said, dropping the garden weasel.
     Megabot looked vaguely disappointed, but signaled the other, less
impressive security bots to move in.

                                     -~-_-

     "Get *in*!" Benjen exclaimed, pushing Kitty Hitowers (who, in the last
episode, had been referred to as an undergraduate Space Ingenue major in
Intergalactic University, though she was actually an undergraduate Space
Ingenue major at Interstellar University, which has a much better program,
and better jumpsuits as well) into the small, dingy looking ship, which bore
the legend: "W.S. The Larch" on its bow.  Kissy Hitowers stopped screaming
long enough to give him a look that would wither holes through solid steel.
Jerriphrrt and Slithis pulled her onto the ship, with Benjen following.
     Laser fire echoed all around them as Slithis piloted the ship out of
the Governor Schlub's hangar bay.  Strangely, his guards didn't seem all that
concerned with revenging their leader's demise.  A lucky break for them, it
did appear.
     Around the time they exited the atmosphere of Barugon X, Kissy stopped
screaming.
     "Okay, now what's going on?" she asked, annoyed.
     Jerriphrrt blinked.
     "I *said,* what's going on?!?"
     "Hang on," Jerriphrrt told her.  He shook his head vigorously, to get out
the ringing sound.  "You asked something?"
     "I'm not going to repeat it," she said.
     "Oh, please!"
     "Sigh," she sighed.  "Okay.  What's going on?"
     "We just rescued you," Benjen told her, helpfully.
     "Well, *duh,*" Kissy growled at him.  "What I want to know is...why?"
     "I'm beginning to wonder myself," Slithis commented.  "We're going into
warp now, by the way.  We should be at Keldering Gamma in a few hours."
     "We need your help, see," Benjen said.  "We were on Barbados, Planet of
Physical Delights, a couple weeks ago, and..."
     "Look," Kissy said, "if you couldn't find help on Barbados, what good
can I do, assuming I was even interested?"
     "Er...um...Jerri, could you take over?" Benjen asked, his cheeks and neck
turning a bit red.
     "A couple weeks ago, while we were on Barbados, our friends and our ship
disappeared," he told her.  "We think you can help us locate them."
     "Hmmm, I don't know," she said.  "Tell me more."
     "Well," Jerriphrrt went on, "I got the call a few hours after the End-of-
the-Month Nerf Orgy at Mistress Melu's Spanking Clinic.  Benjen was somewhere
in the southern district, higher than Judy Garland, and Slithis was attending
the Lime Jello Seminar.  The other Anarchists were in the ship, catching up
on some sleep..."
     "Other Anarchists?" Kissy asked.
     "Yes," Benjen said.  "We're the Renegade Anarchists."
     "Oh, gee, my nipples are hard," Kissy said, flatly.
     "Anyway, we were all called back to the ship by Planetary Security,"
Jerriphrrt went on, after shooting Kissy a withering look of his own.  "When
we arrived, we found that our ship, the Red Emma, was gone, and so were our
friends."
     "You sure they didn't suddenly wise up and leave you?" Kissy asked.
     "No," Benjen said.  "Yes...I mean..."
     "They didn't," Slithis interrupted.  "We saw what happened on video.  I'll
roll the clip."
     A viewscreen lit up, showing the Red Emma, nestled phallically into a
docking berth.  Com readouts indicated that three occupants were on board, and
listed their names: Emma Goldman, James Dean, and Gham.
     Then, things started getting weird.  A green glow began to suffuse the
ship, growing brighter and brighter until it overwhelmed the spectral range
of the camera.  Alarms were sounding, but it was too late.
     When the glow dissipated, all that was left was the equivalent weight of
the ship and its passengers in empty Schlitz cans.

                                     -~-_-

     Lark Purree stopped just before the turbolift doors.  He put a hand up
to touch the sideburn on his right side, which had gleeped at him.
     "I know," he said.  "Don't worry, it'll be all right.  She understands."
He patted his breast pocket before pushing the button for the turbolift.  As
he waited for it to arrive, he pondered his mission.
     He was to escort a Special Operations Agent to present-day Earth, for
reasons unspecified.  Sajanseel Boudoir had given him the assignment, and
the orders had been countersigned by Floyd, the acting Cheif of Time Central.
No reason had been given to him for the assignment, and the nature of the
assignment had not been divulged.  Furthermore, the orders prohibited Lark
from bringing BRENDA along with him.
     It was a rather suspicious situation, to be sure.
     Finally, the turbolift arrived, and Lark stepped in.
     "Hold that turbolift!" a voice shouted, from the hallway.  Lark looked
out, and his eyes widened.  Frantically, he stabbed at the 'door close' button,
and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors finally shut.
     The relief quickly evaporated as the doors were blow inward by violent
plasma rifle fire.  Lt. Zark Flyby, officer in charge of Peaceful Relations
for Time Central, stepped through the wreckage, grinning violently.
     "Er, hi, Zark," Lark said.  "Nice day, isn't it?"
     Zark thought about that one a while.
     The turbolift continued, as several minutes passed.  Finally, it stopped,
and Lark stepped out, not caring whether it was his floor or not.
     "Yes, it is," Zark said, at last, as the turbolift departed again.
     Lark breathed a sigh of relief, echoed by his sideburns.
     "Hard to believe he was even more dangerous when he was a Satanic Agent
At Large (SAAL), isn't it?" he asked them.  One of his sideburns glooped,
questioningly.  "I think the Apathy Ray did that plotline in.  He's back here
now, anyway."
     Time Agent 90210 looked around, and, to his stunned amazement, found he
was on the correct floor for his new ship.  He started walking, briskly.  After
ten minutes, he reached the correct berth, and the security doors hissed open.
     There she was, the HMS Shannon II.  Lark, who had been a Space Heroics
Major at IU before starting at Time Central, was suitably impressed.
     "Neat," he commented.
     "Yes, she is," a female...*very* female, and rather enticing, Lark
decided...voice said.  "You must be Time Agent 90210."
     Lark tore his eyes away from the Shannon II to look at the Special
Operations Agent who was advancing towards him, her gaze stern and businesslike.
Her uniform was black and silver, the standard full dress uniform for a
Special Operations Agent, rarely worn outside the walls of Time Central, due
to the secretive nature of Special Operations.
     Except for the horns and the tail, she bore a distinctive resemblence to
Linda Evans.
     "I'm Special Operations Agent Melu Ulem," she said.  "Let's go.  Time is
of the essence."
     "Yes, sir," Lark said, trying not to stare at her as he followed her up
into the ship.

                                     -~-_-

     On Barugon B, things were beginning to settle down.  Governor Schlub's
headless body had been carted off to the morgue, which was drastically
understaffed at the moment, as most of the doctors, along with most of the
guards, were in the Governor's harem chambers, doing drastic things with
peanut butter.
     A deep, emerald glow began to suffuse the Governor's body.  A finger
twitched.  His chest spasmed.  His toes flexed.  His stomach heaved.  His
buttocks cleched.  The veins in his left leg twisted to form the words 'Hi,
mom!'
     In other words, something was happening.

                                     -~-_-

     Pope Joe Don I tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep.  Ordinarily,
he could sleep in almost any circumstance.  When Cardinal Hagen and Cardinal
Van Cleef took him out bowling the other night, he had slept in the Popemobile
there and back, for instance.  When the Big Guy first appeared, He had to
wake Joe Don I up from lightly dozing several times, so that He could finish
imparting His mission to Joe Don I.
     Finally, Joe Don I gave up, and switched on the lamp.  He lay back on
his bed, sighing heavily.  Turning his head to the side, he saw the book
that had mysteriously appeared on his nightstand sometime earlier in the
evening, which had displaced a quantity of empty Schlitz cans that had been
previously residing there.
     He picked up the book, and looked at it.
     "_How to Build an ABPSARI With Materials You Find Around the House_,"
Joe Don I read, "by Dr. Bing Von Spleen, the Earth's Foremost Spamologist."
     Joe Don I propped his head against his pillow, and began to read.

HOW FAR WILL JOE DON I GET?
DOES THE BOOK HAVE PICTURES?
WHAT'S GOING ON WITH GOV. SCHLUB'S CORPSE?
WHAT'S GOING ON WITH EMMA, GHAM, AND JAMES DEAN?
WHAT'S GOING ON WITH ALL THE EMPTY SCHLITZ CANS?
WHAT WOULD A JERRY BAKER-AUTOGRAPHED GARDEN WEASEL DO TO A SCHLITZ CAN?
WILL THE NEXT EPISODE ADVANCE THE PLOT SOME?

Find out, only on the Superguy list...where SFSTORY LIVES!!!!!!!!

        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"