🚀 go-pugleaf

    Afternoon in the Chapterhouse.  Authors of all different
descriptions drinking beer.  Other Authors writing in incomplete
sentences.  Chris Meadows aka Robotech_Master and his Muse,
Miriam, sitting at a table with half-finished mugs of Guinness in
front of them.  And a dog.
    "He CAN'T be an Author," Chris was saying.  "He hasn't
WRITTEN anything.  Except THIS!  And I can't PUBLISH that!"
    "Chris, you're getting overexited," Miriam said worriedly.
"You're starting to speak in capital letters again."
    "I am NOT starting to speak in--oh.  Yes, I guess I am.
Sorry 'bout that.  But I still can't believe that HE's an
Author.  It's just impossible."
    "Oh, I dunno..." Miriam remarked.  "If Burt Ward could be an
Author, I'd say that--"
    Rocky the Great Pyrenees [Author's note: If you don't know
what a Great Pyrenees dog looks like, picture a
white-with-grey-highlights-on-the-face, somewhat shaggy Saint
Bernard.] looked toward the bar and barked.  "Arf!"  Chris and
Miriam looked at each other.  Rocky barked again.
    "What does he--" Chris began.
    Rocky sneezed, then sat on his haunches and barked a third
time.  "Arf!"  This time, a bottle of Guinness Stout and a frosty
mug appeared in front of him.  He looked up at Robotech_Master.
    "Well?" Miriam said, gesturing.  "Are you going to pour it or
not?"
    Chris picked up the bottle, looked at it for a moment.  "All
right, all right..."  He popped the top off, then poured it
slowly down the interior of Rocky's mug until the foam came up to
the top.  He waited a few minutes for the foam to subside, then
poured the rest.  "There you go."
    Rocky put both forepaws around the mug, stuck his snout in,
and began lapping it up.  Chris observed this phenomenon for a
minute or so, sighed, and said, "Okay, I give.  No doubt about
it, he IS an Author."
    "Hey!"  The exclamation of outrage came from across the room,
and Bill Dickson came running over, Ruth right behind him.  "What
the hell(tm) are you doing, giving GUINNESS to a--a--a--a--"
    "Dog," Ruth supplied.
    "Right, a dog!" Bill continued, gesturing like a madman.
"It's a mockery of everything such a fine beer stands for!  I
demand an explanation!"
    "He's an Author," Chris said.
    Bill stopped short.  "He is?  Oh, well, that's okay, then."
He knelt beside Rocky, who was happily gulping down Guinness.
"Hi, fella.  What's your name?" he asked, petting him.
    Rocky looked up and barked.  "His name is Rocky," R_M said.
"I don't know why or how, but he's got inspiration dust in his
system, so he's apparently an Author."
    "Huh."  Bill looked around the room for a moment, glancing
briefly at Lord Sabre, the Swede, the Artiste, the Man With Two
First Names, the Nerf Mountain King, and the Girl With a
Catbunny.  "Yeah, I think he'll fit right in.  And look--he even
has less facial hair than Bill Paul!"
    "I heard that!" the Man With Two First Names yelled, slamming
down another empty Yoo-Hoo bottle.
    Rocky finished the beer and stood up, beer and doggie drool
dripping in equal quantities from his muzzle.  Chris recognized
the danger right way.  "Uh-oh!  Take cover!  He's going to
shake!"  He edited up a large umbrella and interposed it between
Miriam and himself and Rocky, just in time.  Rocky shook his
muzzle, making the distinctive "flapflapflap" sound of a dog with
big jowls, and slime went everywhere.
    After he was sure it was over, Chris lowered the umbrella and
looked around.  About three quarters of the other patrons were
glaring in his general direction.  "Um...I think we've overstayed
our welcome," he said.  "We'll just be going now..."

    Once the Author, Muse, and Dog were outside the Chapterhouse,
the conversation continued.  "I just don't understand why my
dog," Chris was saying.  "I knew the breed was smart, but THIS
smart...?  Why did he come here?  What is he here for?"
    "Apparently the same thing as the other Authors," Miriam
remarked, watching Rocky peer after a trio of passing Swedish
bikini sales brochure authors and start to drool.  "Omnipotence,
beer, and the opposite gender."
    "Hey, wait.  Omnipotence and beer I can understand, but sex?
We had him 'fixed' when we got him."
    Miriam looked down at Rocky's wagging tail.  "Well, he
doesn't appear to be 'fixed' any more."
    Chris threw up his hands.  "This is all too much for me."  He
tapped the RDF-symbol commbadge he was wearing.  "Computer.
Three to beam up."  The badge chirped, and seconds later they
dematerialized in columns of shimmering light.

    A short time later, they sat in command seats on the bridge
of the CONSTELLATION III, which was orbiting the Noj at a safe
distance.  Rocky had taken the Captain's chair and now sat in it
happily, looking all around him at computer screens and things,
but Chris didn't mind.  He was too busy trying to think of how to
unblock himself for the next Crapshoot & Co. series.  He had some
ideas...now, if only he could find the necessary information...
    Something else was on Miriam's mind.  "How are you going to
resolve the thing with you and Gadge?  He's supposed to fly you
up here from the planet, then the two of you are supposed to pop
into SG with Zen's bus, where you are to this very day."
    "No problem...I'll just have him fly out here from the Noj."
    "But what about the planet?" Miriam prompted.  "He was
supposed to be giving you a tour of IslandiaBase or something,
wasn't he?"
    "I assume he's reconstructed IB in his section of the Noj by
now, so I can just go over there," Chris said.  "As for Planet
Mitchell, well...we can use special effects.  I'll fake being
unable to use Unix editors, since he hasn't seen me in a long
time and won't know any better, and we'll get this show on the
road."
    "Arf!" said Rocky.
    "Do you think it will work?" Miriam asked.
    "It had BETTER," Robotech_Master replied.  "We're not all
that far from paradox as it stands now--unless someone recreates
Planet Mitchell PDQ, we'll have to go through the charade."

    Meanwhile, thousands of miles and even more thousands of
kilometers (there being more than two kilometers to a mile) away,
inside the Noj, much scurrying could be heard among the darkened
corridors of Robotech_Master's island bunker.  As dozens of
little dark forms scampered all about, their strange language
could be overheard as they discussed among themselves such
esoteric subjects as high technology, space travel, and National
Geographic photographers.
    "Ptang!  Frink frink frink!"
    "Frinkptang!  Frink!  Whoooo!"
    "Frink!  Frinkfrink!  Frink!  Ptang."
    You get the picture.
    These tiny shadowy figures swarmed the darkened control room.
Despite all the light from CRT monitors and control blinkies,
these figures remained dark and mysterious as they went about
their business.  They crawled over, under, and through the
computer consoles, scanning, detecting, accessing.  At last one
of them found what he wanted.  The computer spoke.
    "Transporter system is now online.  Please input destination
coordinates."


WHO ARE THESE MYSTERIOUS SHADOWY FIGURES?
WHAT DO THEY WANT WITH ROBOTECH_MASTER'S ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY?
WHAT DO THEY PLAN TO DO WITH THE TRANSPORTER SYSTEM?
WHY IS ROCKY APPARENTLY AN AUTHOR?

SUPERGUY.  IT'S NOT JUST FOR YOUR YAK.