3.Ø5
Spacetime: 97253.6.228
“We could doom the entire Infiniverse?” Sian sneered at Shatspeare, “Do the words drama queen mean anything to you?”
Shatspeare gaped. Before he could summon a Shat-worthy response, Galahadrielle drew her sword and slapped its flat against the obelisk, “Oh, mighty Stone of Destiny, please display local spacetime perversions.”
Nothing happened.
Without a change of expression Galahadrielle twisted her sword forty-five degrees so that its razor edge screeked across the obelisk’s face. Then she added frostily, “I saideth ‘please,’ did I not?”
Instantly the obelisk projected a flat, 4X4 meter image of the Earth. Galahadrielle snapped her fingers twice and the map morphed into a dynamic 4D image.
Muddle was hypnotized by the intricately-detailed globe. He grew misty-eyed when he spied flashes of lighting along the Santa Barbara coast. Long ago, Muddle and some friends had observed a spectacular lightning storm from atop the Jukebox.
Enchanting as the globe was, Muddle also spotted the worrisome spacetime corruptions that Galadadrielle had mentioned. The globe was enveloped in a sinuous current of energy. He knew not why, but as Muddle gazed upon it the energy current imparted a marvelous sense of vitality.
From where Muddle was standing the energy flowed from left to right. Upstream of Earth, so to speak, there were five arrows that cleaved a ragged laceration in the energy current. The sundered spacefabric afforded dizzying glimpses of alternate universes. Belches of exotic energy disgorged upon the Earth as the fabric fluttered in the breeze.
Gellie pointed at the arrows, “Those must be the disturbances that Ubie and Froda mentioned.”
Galahadrielle nodded, “They are called Time Cheaters.”
“Time Cheaters…!” Ubie exclaimed, “I thought Time Cheaters were pure quantro physical whimsy. Like pink unicorns. Are you saying those things are real?”
“I’m afraid so…” Rudyard chimed in.
Sian scrutinized the PI, “You’re familiar with those things, Rudyard?”
“Yes, I am, Captain,” Rudyard exhaled, “They’re the reason I exist.”
“Time cheaters?” Muddle scratched his head, “What do Time Cheaters have to do with poetic intelligence?”
“Much to do, have they.” As usual, Froda muddied the syntactical waters, “Opposites are number and poetry. Therefore, inseparable are they. Mmm-Hmm.”
Sian pretended she hadn’t heard the Juju Master. Instead, she directed a question at the only Ozlander who, in her opinion, possessed an ounce of sense, “Lady G, would you mind explaining what Time Cheaters are?”
“Gladly,” Galahadrielle seemed as eager as Sian to steer the discussion back to luna firma, “As you are aware, Earth has been invaded by the infamous roach motel baron, Uranus Blowhard.”
Though his comrades said nothing, Muddle could feel their disapproval searing his soul. Galahadrielle, however, did not blame Earthlings for their misfortune. Instead, she thrust her sword at the Time Cheaters, “I am convinced that the problem lies here.”
“Soo..” Ubie chewed over the notion, “You think there’s a connection between the Time Cheaters and Blowhard?”
“Moost assuredly,” Oobie Doobie weighed in, “There’s a troobling imbalance between Earthlings’ technooloogical proogress and their WQ.”
“WQ?” Sian wrinkled her nose, “You mean, Wisdom Quotient? What does that have to do with anything?”
“More than you might think,” Lady G interposed, “Time Cheaters are quantro dynamic constructs that modify the flow of spacetime. In this case…” Lady G spun the globe to get a closeup of the Time Cheaters, “...this cluster of Time Cheaters accelerates technological innovation, while stunting the growth of wisdom.”
“How can they do that?” Sian swatted the dratted Time Cheaters out of her face.
When the globe re-stabilized, Galahadrielle drew attention to the river of energy flowing around Earth, “That energy stream is largely constituted of smarticles.”
Muddle snorted, “Smarticles? You must be joking.”
“Tch, tch, Doctor,” Shatspeare clicked his tongue, “There is more in heaven and Earth...”
“To be fair…” Rudyard spoke over Shatspeare, “...the Kyptin knows nothing about smarticles because Earth scientists lack the aesthetic skills to perceive them.”
“Aesthetic skills?” Gellie asked.
“I know it sounds batty,” Rudyard bopped his head, “But you can’t detect smarticles with formulae like Phranck’s Constant. You have to rely on your wits.” The PI’s passion for this subject was infectious, “No one has ever detected smarticles the same way twice. It’s almost as if the little rascals know how to play hide and seek.”
“Yeeess…” Ubie tiptoed into the discussion, “...and no. Smarticles are a type of quantro particle which energizes subjective experience, like sentience. It’s paradoxical, but you can’t detect smarticles unless you are endowed with them. If you don’t know how to feel things like love, hate or sadness, then you can’t perceive the smarticles that impart those qualities. That’s why so much of the infiniverse remains dark.”
“Sentience?” Muddle sounded fascinated, “You mean there are, uhh… particles that think?”
“No, Kyptin," Rudyard dithered, "Particles don’t think. They are the building blocks of sentience. You are a ‘being’ because your inanimate matter is transfused with animating smarticles.”
“But..” Sian eyed Rudyard, “...I thought you said the Time Cheaters deflected the smarticles.”
“No, no.” The PI backtracked, “The Time Cheaters deflect some, but not all smarticles. Earthlings are endowed with a surplus of technitrons, but a paucity of whizzitons. You see?”
“And why is that a problem?” Gellie asked.
“Because…” Shatspeare ventured, “...men lack the wisdom to control their own intelligence. The fault is not in their stars. But in themselves.”
“Rudyard,” Sian frowned, “...would you mind translating?”
“Of course!” The PI loved being the smartest guy in the room, “Shatspeare means that humans are geniuses at constructing their own worst nightmares. Shining examples include Global Roasting, Doomsday Bombs, Andromeda Strains and...” Under his breath, the PI mumurred, “...AI...”
“I don’t understand.” Ubie grumbled, “Who would want to rob Earthlings of the wisdom to protect themselves from their own stupidity?”
In answer, the 4D Earth projection transformed into a gigantic headshot of Uranus Blowhard.
“Aha!” Gellie cried, “Now I get it.”
“Never before has Blowhard…” Froda refused to gaze upon the bloated orange mug, “...conquered anything with greater intelligence than a cockroach.”
“Indeed…” Lady G’s voice was tinged with regret, “...the Eldar Council was astonished at the ease with which Blowhard conquered Earth.”
“Roight yoo are, lassie.” Oobie Doobie boomed, “Oonce soospicions were aroosed it took nae time ta’ loocate the Cheaters and their knoock-on effects.”
“Meaning…” Gellie summarized, “...the Earth is at Blowhard’s mercy until we scrap the Time Cheaters.”
“Indeed, m’lady.” Shatspeare forsoothed, “Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. Men are deceivers ever. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.”
“What in blazes is that supposed to mean?!” Muddle erupted.
“It doesn’t matter!” Sian cut off the exchange, “We need to destroy the Time Cheaters ASAP. That’s all we need to know.” Sian pressed a finger to her ear, “Star Truck do you read? Over!”
“Pepeet-Eee-Dee!” WONK-E responded.
In the background a shrill voice cried, “I am Froot!”
Sian was all business, “Fire up the engines, WONK-E. We’ve got a mission to complete." Sian signed off and announced, “Prepare for departure Star Truckers.”
WONK-E wasted no time. Rectangular panels slid open at each of Star Truck's bottom corners and bell-shaped thrusters whizzed out. A column of blue flame erupted from each thruster that generated enough propulsion to hoist Star Truck one meter off the lunar surface. WONK-E stood by for further orders.
“Captain!” Galahadrielle called to Solu, “...I’m sorry, but you can’t use your ship for this mission.”
Sian looked confused, “How do you expect me to destroy the Time Cheaters without my ship?”
“You will have transport, Captain, but…” Galahadrielle directed Solu’s attention to Muddle, “...your mode of conveyance will be Dr. Strangelove’s One Watch.”
What?!?
All eyes locked on Muddle. “Honest to Pete...” Muddle confessed, “...I have no idea what she's talking about. If this watch has special powers, then you’re welcome to it...” Muddle tried to lift the watch over his head, but its chain snugged around his neck like a boa constrictor.
“Yoo’ve been choosen, laddie! Tis a greet hoonor and divil of a coorse. But that's as it is.” Oobie Doobie thundered, “There’s noot but one way ta’ teckle the Cheaters, boy-o. The Oone Watch will lead, but oonly if yoo’ve got the stoones and loogs t’ falla’!”
Before Muddle could demand a translation, Froda summoned the Council’s attention, “Quiet, friends! Listen to me you must!” The Juju Master closed his eyes:
One Watch to rule them all, my precious.
One Watch to find them.
One precious watch to bring them all, and…and…
Oh, fudge!
Froda sagged, “Sorry, am I. Never can I remember the last line, my precious.”
“Noot again!!” Oobie Doobie fought a burning urge to smack Froda upside the head. “It’s every bleedin’ time, in’t it? I’m tellin’ ya’, Frooda. Either learn it, or chook it! All this hangin’ aboot in the middle is froostin’ me cake!”
“Sorry…?” Once again, Muddle failed to glean a particle of meaning from Oobie Doobie’s rant. “Would you mind...?”
“KAAA-Booooommm!!” Muddle’s request was squelched by a laser cannon shell.
The blast knocked everyone in the excavation site clean off their feet. Which, as it turns out, was a good thing because, following the cannon shell, a firestorm of laser pellets choked the space above the meeting site, “Pew-Pew, Pinka-Pinka, Pew-Pew!”
A sustained barrage pinned the Council attendees down tight.
Muddle tried shouting, but the laser fire was too loud to surmount. Unsure what to do, Muddle stayed put until he felt someone whack his life support bubble. Muddle was thrilled to see it was Sian. Solu had her little silver phraser in hand. She fired off a series of blasts, “Take! That! You! Sneaky! Rotten! Dirtbags!!” Then she motioned for Muddle to follow her to the obelisk.
When Muddle looked at the obelisk he spied Lady Galahadrielle beckoning to him. Thanks to cool-headed coordination between Sian and Galahadrielle, all of the Council attendees were soon slithering toward the obelisk. Sian and Gellie snugged next to Muddle and scooted him forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Muddle spotted Ubie tugging Rudyard along.
When they were gathered at its foot, the obelisk screened enough of the laser storm to permit a few words of shouted conversation. Sian had already worked out a desperate plan. She hollered at Galahadrielle, “You say here! I’ll crawl to Star Truck and fly the ship back!”
“No!” Bellowed Lady G, “There is another way!”
Just then, the bombardment took on a whole new dimension. A squadron of Bowtie Fighters streaked overhead. Oobie Doobie shook his fist at the fighters, “Blast yoor mangy hide, Dank Vaper!”
“Dank Vaper!” Froda’s heart thrummed. So, my old acolyte! We meet again!! Froda closed his eyes and visualized his old friend-turned-foe. Sensing the Bowtie fighters returning for a second strafing run, Froda activated his lightslasher and sprang skyward.
Oobie Doobie screamed, “Noooo, Frooda! Vaper will toost ya’ like a marshmallooo…!”
Heedless, Froda whirled his lightslasher like a turboprop. The moon’s light gravity and the Juju Master’s thick thighs enabled Froda to spring much higher than expected. When he soared above the excavation pit’s rim Froda was astounded by what he saw. The cuddly old warrior, cried, “Oliphaunts!”
With the Juju Master distracted thus, Dank Vaper saw his chance. The Silt Lord locked Froda in his crosshairs and blazed away. Tasting sweet victory, Vaper pumped fist, but then an unforeseen sequence of events spoiled his celebration.
Bowtie laser blasts travel at the speed of light. So, it’s hard to imagine anything moving faster. Just think how surprised Dank Vaper must have been when something—for a moment, it looked like a mischievous woman with an angelic smile—streaked in front of Froda and shielded him from Vaper’s blasts. Dank Vaper’s jaw was still in his lap when a confuzer grenade struck his port thrusters and sent him cartwheeling into an endless series of sequels.
From his perch in Star Truck’s gun turret WONK-E cheered, “Freebiii-Jeebie-Doo!!” Then he continued blazing away at the remaining Fighters. Astride WONK-E’s shoulder, Froot slingshotted his multi-colored loops while screaming, “I am Froot! I am Frooooot!!”
“Good shot, WONK-E!” Ubie cheered. Powered by jetboots, Ubie streaked above Star Truck and snagged a Bowtie Fighter by its tail. Spotting an oliphaunt in the distance, Ubie flung the bowtie like a frisbee. She scored a direct hit on the oliphaunt’s noggin and knocked it sideways into one of its companions. Their legs tangled and they toppled in a super slow-mo ballet to the lunar surface. “Ploo-ooofff!”
Ubie sighed, “Two down and… Let’s see. 1-2-3-4-... Ugh, forget it!” There were far too many oliphaunts to count. In addition to the oliphaunts, innumerable ground and flying vehicles zipped this way and that in a desperate race to vaporize the Funtastic Five. As she hovered above Star Truck, storm trippers peppered Ubie with laser pellets. She deflected the energy bursts as casually as picnickers shoo gnats. Having seen all she needed, Ubie dove back to her comrades at the obelisk.
Seeing Ubie alight, Sian shouted, “What’s it look like?”
The storm of laser pops and cannon fire carried on unabated. Ubie shook her head, “There's way too many. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Alright,” Sian nodded, “That’s what I figured.” Speaking to the tightly-clustered group, Sian announced, “Lady G and I have a plan to get us out of here.”
“Well…: Galahadriel quibbled, “...we have a plan to get you out of here.”
Sian squinted at Lady G, “What do you mean?”
“Captain,” Galahadriel explained, “This is your quest. Not ours.”
Muddle puffed out his cheeks, “Fate decrees that we must part at the Crossroads, eh?”
“Something like that,” Galahadriel allowed, “Now you must do exactly as I say…”
Moments later Lady G had arranged the Funtastic Five like a ring of luminous Easter Eggs around the base of the obelisk. Galahadriel informed them that the One Watch would transport them to the next Time Cheater, but only if they followed her instructions to the letter. The FF would have to begin by joining hands. Once they were linked, Muddle would have to press the face of his watch against the obelisk. The moment he did so--Hey, presto!--the One Watch would transport them to their next destination. The dicey part was that the FF would have to deactivate their life support bubbles in order to join hands. No one relished the thought of being exposed to the stark lunar environment.
As Lady G ran through a few final instructions a Lectrosassin in the form of an enormous boxer robot marched up to Star Truck and started bashing the ship's force shield with whitehot fists.
WONK-E and Froot concentrated fire on the Lectrosassin until the robot imploded into a molten blob of magnetoplasma. WONK-E barely had a moment to breathe before six more Electrosassin’s began hammering on Star Truck’s shields.
“They can’t last!” Sian roared, “I’ve got to…!”
“No, Captain!” Lady G countered, “We will see to your friends.” Each Council member nodded. “You must pursue your quest.”
“Alright! You’re right,” Sian gritted her teeth, “Is everyone ready?”
At that moment, a Lectrosassin appeared at the top of the excavation site. Sensing the group clustered around the obelisk, the Lectrosassin activated its attack lights and leaped into the pit.
Lady G drew her sword and roared, “Go! Now!!”
Without hesitation, King Idler’s most fearless knight confronted the Lectrosassin. The robot raised its fists with the intention of squashing Lady G as flat as a British beer. But Galahadrielle surprised the Electrosassin by darting between its legs and slicing cleanly through both of its knees.
Detached from its lower legs the mechanoid flopped ungracefully onto its belly. As it keeled over the disabled murderbot switched on its distress siren. Froda and Oobie Doobie quickly silenced the Lectrosassin with their lightslashers. Unfortunately, the Lectrossassin’s back-up units were already en route. Every imaginable type of battlebot—some flying, some wheeling, some marching—converged on the excavation site.
Galahadrielle called to Shatspeare, “William, will you protect the FF until they transport?”
“Happy to oblige,” Shatspeare flipped Yorick's skull to his left hand and in the same motion snatched a nifty little phraser from his belt. One might guess that, through force of habit, Shatspeare would set his phraser on stun, but not this time. For this job, Shatspeare selected the power setting at the opposite end of the spectrum. In a flash, the phraser dissolved into a cloud of nanobots and then reconstituted into a long-barreled Extermazookah. The Zooka looked like a souped up M16 with a satellite-dish nozzle. With the Zooka in hand Shatspeare sauntered High Noon-style in front of the oncoming Lectrosassin.
Extermazookahs are among the most feared weapons in the galaxy for good reason. At a glance, Extermazookah shells appear no more dangerous than a cluster of fireflies. But when the fireflies alight on their target everything changes post haste. Then, as they say, Shat gets real.
Shatspeare aimed at the Electrosassin and soliloquized, "To be or not to be..." Then he pulled the trigger and transformed the murderbot into something the Bard liked to describe as “Dark Matter.”
Outnumbered as they were, Sian was astonished at how well the Ozlanders were faring. All four mowed through opponents by the dozen. Even at the rate they were going, there were far more enemies than the Ozlanders could vanquish in a lifetime. Lady G and Co. were merely holding off the enemy until the Funtastic Five could transport to safety.
Sian shouted to her crew, “On the count of three…” Hearing herself, Sian glared at Muddle, “Meaning when I count UP to three, Eisbein! Ya’ got it?”
“Yes, of course,” Muddle replied, “What could be simpler?”
Solu curled a fist, but, for the sake of time, let the matter slide. “When I say three, deactivate your life-support belts and lock hands. Am I clear?” Nods all around. Sian continued, “After you deactivate, close your eyes and hold your breath. If Mudd does his job correctly, we should be gone in a flash. Do you understand?”
More nods.
“Alright!” Sian took a deep breath, “On the count of three deactivate your belts, hold hands, and pray Muddle doesn’t screw this up. Got it?” Sian looked each of her crew in the eye. All four were rock steady, “Okay, here we go! ONE…”
A cannon blast streaked overhead and vaporized the top third of the obelisk. Everyone ducked, but held fast.
Solu roared, “...TWO!” In the distance, a new squadron of Bowtie Fighters formed up for a strafing run. Sian could dawdle no longer.
“THREE!!”
Each member of the landing party hit their deactivation buttons. One by one, the protective bubbles went dark. Pop, pop, pop. Each pair of hands clasped their neighbors’ until…
Nothing happened.
Something was wrong. Sian opened her eyes a crack. Much to her surprise Muddle was not the source of the delay. Instead, Muddle was banging his fist on Rudyard’s still-active life support bubble.
Rudyard groaned, “It’s jammed!”
Sian felt faint. She was on the verge of reactivating her belt when Ubie lifted a fist and brought it crashing down on Rudyard’s bubble. The force of Ubie's blow shattered the bubble into trillions of liberated phrotons.
Using the last particles of O2 in their lungs, Muddle and Ubie grabbed Rudyard’s hands. Muddle pressed his chest against the obelisk at the same instant that a laser cannon shell vaporized the remainder of the slab.
Had the Funtastic Five escaped in time? The Ozlanders could only wonder. And hope...
In a flash, the Funtastic Five found themselves crammed inside an old-style phone booth.
Swarms of strange, iridescent lights streaked past the booth’s windows. Now and then, one of the fireflights would collide with a window and squish into a luminous smear of spacebug juice.
Ubie was the first to find her voice, “What is this thing?”
An unfamiliar voice answered, “It’s a TARDIE.”
All heads snapped toward the voice. The speaker was a smallish, fair-haired Brit who was standing next to the TARDIE’s navigational controls. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” The young woman smiled, “...my name is Dr. Whozit.”
Before anyone could return the introduction, Dr. Whozit consulted an unintelligible readout above the TARDIE’s door and announced, “Prepare for departure.”
Boing-oing-oing!!
In the blink of an eye, the Funtastic Five blipped from the TARDIE to a mountaintop in a dessicated wilderness. Stark deserts stretched to the horizon in every direction. There was no evidence of anything resembling human civilization.
But they could breath! The FF suddenly realized how oxygen-starved they were. As one they heaved long, noisy sighs of relief, “Aaaaahhh!! That’s better!! Oh, my aching lungs!!”
In the midst of their jubilation, a man wearing a ‘70’s-style leisure suit popped out from behind a boulder and barked, “Hey! Hold it down, over there! I’m trying to film a movie!”