#319: Untold Tales of the Parody War: Total War
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Previously: The Parody War has reached its climax. Aboard the Parody Master’s flagship Inevitable Destiny, Yo, Dancer, and Sorceress face off against the conqueror of the Parodyverse himself, with the aid of Lisa’s spirit trapped inside the Parody Master’s soul-stealing axe. Earth’s concealment in Hallie’s virtual realm can continue no longer. Danny Lyle has claimed control of Herringcarp Asylum, the Portal of Pretentiousness, and the Purveyors of Peril to retrieve the kidnapped Kerry Shepherdson. The Lair Legion’s long preparations for final combat will now be put to the test. The last battle is ready to unfold.
A cast list for this episode is included as a footnote.
Previous chapters at The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom.
Descriptions of cast at Who's Who in the Parodyverse.
Locations explained in Where's Where in the Parodyverse.
***
1: The Theatres of War
Sir Mumphrey Wilton stood in the Operations Room beneath the Lair Mansion that was headquarters to the Earth’s greatest defenders, his old bewhiskered facer painted red by the light from the giant holographic display that commanded the centre of the chamber. The usual globe graphic was gone, replaced instead by a map of galaxies. Every red dot was a conquest of the Parody Master.
“EEE report their transfer grids in Off-Central Park and in Gothametropolis York are now online,” called Kat Allen. Normally she was a weaver and lace-maker in Paradopolis’ fashionable Tiny Greece; today she was part of Earth’s last chance for survival.
“Jolly good,” murmured Sir Mumphrey. “Hallie, are you ready to shift us out of this virtual state back to the material universe?”
The Lair Legion’s AI was back to her crudest wire-frame hologram just now, a sign of how little spare processing capacity she retained. She glanced across at Lair Lab One, where billionaire inventor Jamie Bautista, the cybernetic hero known as NTU-150, was making the last links to the one-use supercomputer that would boost her processing capacity for what was to follow. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You’ll do fine,” encouraged Tandi, the robot volunteer who was manning – well, sexbotting – the diagnostics panel for her friend. “Make us proud.”
Hallie flashed the girl a nervous smile and began to reverse the process that the Movie Gun had set up weeks before, taking the electronic data that all of Earth and all life on Earth had been stored as and converting it back to matter.
But this wasn’t as easy as a simple reversal. Sir Mumphrey wanted something more.
Two hundred dimensional dreadnaughts ringed around Sol waiting for Earth to resume its customary orbit were confused when the planet and its moon did not appear.
Two and a half million light years away in the Andromeda nebula, the F-Type giant star Beta Cassiopeiae, named by humans and natives of that solar system alike as Caph, suddenly gained a new orbiting world. The transfer back had been successful.
“One dimensional dreadnaught on station,” reported Amazing Guy, extending his cosmic awareness. “Presumably waiting for Caph IX to come back from the time-jump that saved it from the Parody Master’s conquest before.”
“I hope it doesn’t come back very soon,” admitted Hallie, massaging her virtual forehead where she had a virtual splitting headache. “At least not till we figure out a way to get Earth back home.”
“We’ve got weeks yet, m’dear” Mumphrey offered, helpfully. The Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity had arranged the temporal shift that had saved that world from conquest.
“I’m blocking the dreadnaught’s communications for now,” reported D.D., the Lunar Public Library’s computer sentience. “I don’t know how long the library’s data dump will confuse its transmission systems though.”
“The vessel is turning round and heading for us,” warned Kat. “It’s arming its transnuclear weapons.”
Sir Mumphrey frowned, thumbing another comm-channel. “Neutralise the threat please, Mister Brooke,” he asked.
“Understood,” came back Premiere’s terse reply. One lone defender rose from Earth’s atmosphere, a single man against a city-sized warship that could shatter planets. The dreadnaught didn’t stand a chance.
“We’re getting intel about the side-effects of our new location,” Hallie warned as NTU-150 and Tandi patched her back in to her usual data sources. “The slightly different gravity is causing some strange weather and tidal effects. And people are a bit spooked by a sky that is filled with burning nebulae and a giant white sun.”
“Not as spooked as they would be by a sky filled with firing dreadnaughts,” noted Kat.
“Miss Teshmaker?” prompted Mumph.
“On it,” agreed the Legion’s embedded reported. “I’m going on air to report what we’ve done in five, four, three, two…”
“Phase two then,” the eccentric Englishman announced, with perfect confidence at leaving Bernice Teshmaker to inform and calm the world. “Request Miss Framlicker and her colleagues to open up the transfers, if they’d be so kind. Tell Colonel Drury that he is cleared to initiate transit.”
At the base camps where the remaining Earth military ground forces were gathered the mighty dimensional transfer gates cobbled by the weird scientists of Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises spun into life.
“Wargate One active,” reported in Cody Harper.
“Wargate Two is go,” added Kara Harper.
“Both are unstable and they’re going to blow up in under two minutes,” contributed EEE engineer Amy Aston. “So no change there.”
The Parody Master had provoked this attack, hoping to bring about an unwise early assault by the defenders of Earth. His scriers and prophets had already determined the most likely places where Earth’s troops would emerge from the desperate makeshift special conduits and were already waiting in overwhelming force.
“Go!” called Sir Mumphrey, keying in permission codes on the console before him.
A couple of miles away in a temporary command centre that had formerly been a bandstand in Off-Central Park the Director of the Super-Menace Principle Undercover Directorate chomped down on his unlit stogie and barked his orders. “You heard the man, you yahoos. Make it so! Waah-hooh!”
For a moment the great transport archways flashed with Interdimensional lightning; but contrary to the Parody Master’s expectations no troops poured through to massacre. Instead only the last of Earth’s nuclear arsenal dropped into a dozen ambush sites, detonating galaxies and planes away, decimating those who had been waiting to kill the attackers. The straining archways flared and exploded, now useless for further attack.
“A high level of enemy casualties,” Amazing Guy reported soberly. Mass destruction held no appeal to the protector of the Parodyverse. “They’d expected conventional combat, at least from our side. They hadn’t expected us to sacrifice our primary attack method to deliver atomic weaponry.”
“Quite so,” snorted Sir Mumphrey. “Dashed good job we didn’t need to go with our original plans, what? Now for some new ones.” He selected yet another communications channel. “Your excellency, kindly report.”
Contessa Natalia Romanza was in a freight yard by the Sheldon docks. “We found the Parody Cult’s ESPer unit,” she answered. “They were trying to telepathically listen in on what we were planning but Miss Murcheson led us right to them. Now that Hagatha Darkness woman is talking to them and they’re falling over themselves to surrender.”
“Jolly good. Miss Ebony?”
“Yes, there was a necromancy division in the old tunnels as well,” added the priestess of the Manga Shoggoth. “The Abyssal Greye and his fellow scholars were quite offended. Fortunately the situation is now being digested.”
“You mean defused?” Kat checked. “Or deflected.”
“They won’t be a problem any more,” Ebony of Nubilia answered carefully.
“That just leaves the tech-unit spying on us via the Twin Parody Tower,” noted NTU-150. “I’m letting them penetrate our shielding and latch onto one of our comm-channels now.”
Across the bay, the Parody Master’s science spies became excited as they suddenly broke through the Lair Mansion electronic defences and got a clear signal to one of Sir Mumphrey’s allies.
“This is the Word of Logos,” announced Gideon Book in dry, cold, irresistible tones. “You will forget your former allegiance and attend only to me. Listen carefully, because there is false information I require you to impart to your former Master.”
“We’re secured,” Dan Drury judged. “Looks like we’re ready fer phase two, Mumph.”
“Quite so,” agreed the eccentric Englishman. “Are you all set, Mister Visionary?”
In the lighthouse tower that perched on the far edge of Parody Island Vizh surpassed a shudder. “As ready as we’ll ever be,” he conceded. “Ready to try anyway.”
“Then proceed.”
Visionary winced and nodded to Urthula Underess. The party ghoul had spent quite a lot of the last twenty-four hours with Con Johnstantine, the Manga Shoggoth, and Xander the Improbable working on the mechanism that operated the lamp on the dimensionally-anchored lighthouse where Vizh now lived. It had been Urthula’s former home when occupied by her uncle the Necromancer General. She knew that the structure was capable of doing more than shift between Parody Island and Willingham with the tides.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t make this journey by starship,” complained Herbert P. Garrick, presidential advisor on metahuman affairs. “I don’t see why I had to come along.”
“Because it’s extremely dangerous,” answered Amber St Clare acidly. “And we’re all hoping you get eaten.”
“If it’s any comfort,” offered Fleabot, “Visionary has a red sweater he never wears that you could put on. For luck.”
The lighthouse shuddered as Urthula did something to the mechanism, and seemed to ripple.
“How many times have you done this before?” Amber asked anxiously.
“Including this first time?” the party ghoul grinned, a little manically.
“I’m sure we can fully trust the calculations made by Johnstantine, Xander and… the Manga… Shoggoth…” swallowed Vizh with a wince.
“It’s not the shift across space and dimensions that’s the problem,” Urthula explained cheerfully. “It’s that time element Sir Mumphrey added in. This could be a bit bumpy.”
“But what’s the worst that could happen?” Vizh asked unwisely.
His scream vanished as the tower flashed brightly then blinked away to a distant horizon.
“Lighthouse one is away, sah!” reported Sergeant MacHarridan of the Most Loyal Order of Detonator Hippos.
Sir Mumphrey nodded and didn’t enquire where he was supposed to find lighthouse two. “Best play our hole card then, what?” the leader of Earth’s defence forces noted. “Mister Lyle?”
“Yeah, right here,” came back the youthful voice of Denial, new master of the Portal of Pretentiousness. “You guys ready to rock and roll?”
“We’re certainly ready for a moderate amount of turbulence during interdimensional transfer,” agreed Sir Mumphrey. “Kindly begin the transits.”
In the chill gloom of Herringcarp Asylum a young man gripped the stone arms of his father’s chair and whispered to himself, “You won’t let them down.” He stared at the huge ancient mirror before him until its cloudy surface became transparent, then concentrated his will to fold space and move the combatants of the last battle of the Parody War to where they needed to be.
“Globetrotting Guardians to the Intel and Evaluation Base on Reticulum Locus,” he reported with little more than a wince. “Giant Hero Six to the temporary dockyards in the Skree system. Mister Summers and the group formerly known as the FMRC C-Team to the prison holding camp at Chalastis Core. Frightsome Four to the munitions planet Skelvis.”
“Careful, Danny,” advised VelcroVixen at his side. “Each use of the Portal has a physical cost. Even your father made sparing use of point to point transfers.”
“I’m not my father,” snapped Denial. “And I’m not going to fail everybody.” Both of them knew that everybody to Danny was one fiery-tempered Irish girl.
“Starting to move our conventional forces with Terminus Team support,” Danny went on through gritted teeth. “Shifting our remaining carriers. Shifting our missile bases. Deploying the beasties of Monstrous Isle. The giant lizard that cannot be named for copyright reasons is loose in the PM’s palace on Skunk Prime.”
“Danny, you’re bleeding from your eyes,” VV pointed out.
Across the Parody Master’s empire attack alerts were going out. This hadn’t been what the conqueror of the Parodyverse had envisaged. Instead of facing him in glorious final battle the insects of Earth were attacking in a hundred different places in a thousand different ways. They were cheating.
“I’m moving Badripoor to the Grand Boulevard of the Shee-Yar Imperium,” Danny called out. “spiffy and his people are surging out to start the counter-revolution.”
“Because nobody can be as annoying as spiffy when he tries,” muttered VelcroVixen. “Except perhaps Nats.”
Danny coughed up blood onto his t-shirt. He clenched his fists and carried on. “It’s getting harder,” he reported. “The PM knows what we’re up to now and he’s trying to block the Portal. But he’s having to extend his defences across the whole Parodyverse, whereas I only need to punch through at one specific point.”
“You’re doing fine, Mr Lyle,” Sir Mumphrey assured him. “Damned fine. Keep going, lad.”
“Shifting the Great Relief out from behind its Negativity Zone barrier and dropping it right in the middle of the Avawarrior training camp on Shankaru,” Danny called. “That’ll surprise the Abhumans who thought they could ride out this Parody War safe behind their impenetrable shell.”
“They’re going to love us for this,” breathed the Contessa.
“They can send in a written complaint,” muttered Dan Drury. “An’ then they can kiss…”
“Connecting the deep tunnels under Paradopolis with the deep tunnels under Astrovidia,” went on Danny, ignoring the tightness in his chest and the pain in his skull. “The Morshlocks have encountered the scavengers the Parody Master set to pick over the civilisation he destroyed. The Outcasts are going on a rampage in the sewers of Draum.”
“Danny, that’s enough,” VelcoVixen called out. “Sir Mumphrey, he’s going to kill himself!”
“The PM really doesn’t like me doing this,” Denial admitted. “Let’s see… Hole Man and his holeoids transferred to the J’Rondri transmundium mines on Segeris III. Thighmaster’s collection of giant celebrity robots loosed on Prospectis. Opening a conduit between Granny Grimness’ Apocalyspe Hog-Soldier training facilities and the High Court of the Parody Master’s Inquisition. Now to channel a solar flare from our own sun right into the capital city of the vampires of Bloodworld.”
Danny Lyle screamed as he wiped out three million vampire allies of the Parody Master. VelcroVixen grabbed him as he toppled from his chair.
“Get me back…up.. there,” he ordered.
“I don’t think so, Danny,” Vicki Vee insisted.
“Now!” demanded the young man, staring at her with eyes that chilled her to the core.
“The Parody Master is focussing all his attention on stopping the Portal,” Amazing Guy sensed. “His will is absolute.”
“Splendid,” snapped Sir Mumphrey. He opened another comm-link. “Miss Cleone?”
“I have established a link,” reported the beautiful swanmay, across the continent from Parody Island in the haunted caves of Mount Shasta, California. “You may address the Court. You will be heard.”
“And Queen Annj?” checked the eccentric Englishman.
“Speak, Sir Mumphrey of Earth,” replied Donar’s bride. “Your words shall be attended to.”
“Your majesties,” called the eccentric Englishman, speaking through Xander’s familiar and Donar’s love to the rulers of two mighty kingdoms, “the time has come for us to call upon our allies. This is the final push. We need you to fight beside us. We need you to strike.”
“Sir Mumphrey Wilton, you have called upon your allies, the Fey,” answered the Queene of the Faeries, “and now we go to war.”
“You have called upon the gods of the Frozen Antipodes,” answered Oldman, All-Pappy of the Ausgardians, “now shalt the wild hunt commence for the nonce. Let the heavens wrack with tempest and the valkyries sing, for verily the hosts of Ausgard wilt ride to the smiting!”
And across Faerie and the Mythlands the battle against the Parody Master was joined.
“That surprised him as well,” Amazing Guy sensed. “He didn’t expect trouble from the belief realms just now. He seems to be fighting a battle on several fronts at one. I think he’s being physically attacked too, by… the Yurt? Uh-oh. He’s spotted me watching him. He’s blocking me out.”
“No matter, Amazing Guy,” Sir Mumphrey assured the protector of the Parodyverse. “Time for phase three, I believe. Go and join the others in the Main Hall.”
“This really is time to put all the chips down on the table, isn’t it?” Tandi noted as she picked up the co-ordinates from D.D. and relayed them to the Legion.
“Time to do or die, yes,” agreed Sir Mumphrey. “Pleasure workin’ with all of you, ladies and gentlemen. Godspeed.”
At Herringcarp, Danny crawled over to the Portal of Pretentiousness and ran a blood-smeared hand over the glass. “He can’t stop me,” he denied, pressing his will one last time. He could sense Kerry now, knew where she was. He shifted the Purveyors of Peril to that spot, the Avawarrior barracks on the troop carrier Bloody Genocide. He shifted himself. “I’m coming, Firecracker.”
The Parody Master sensed this new assault on his authority. He focussed his will and shattered the Portal into a million useless shards.
“Mr Katz,” said Sir Mumphrey Wilton, “Now.”
The Legionnaire known as Goldeneyed nodded in acknowledgement. As the Parody Master brought his will to bear blocking one means of assault, Bry Katz grasped hold of his team-mates and teleported the Lair Legion across the universe to join the battle.
***
2: The Diplomacy of War
The Reticulum Matrix was a solar-system-wide connection of circuits on a gigantic scaffold, traversing the nebulae scavenging for additional minerals to harvest to expand its massive metallic bulk. The beings who lived on the vast structure were sentient but not organic. They were evolved from computers in the same way that humans were related to lemmings. They had calculated the odds of defying the Parody Master and had elected to join his cause.
The Matrix had elaborate defences against intrusion, an electronic firewall that could identify and eliminate any possible incursion. They had never evolved a defence against magic lighthouses.
The Willingham Light appeared quite near to their central control rack, where the datawardens and codeprovosts assembled to order the future of the Reticula. The worn stone tower blocked one of the major information routes, causing a traffic feedback that shunted all the way through nodes 618 to 729. Then organic bioforms wandered out onto the circuit paths and one of them struck a match on a secondary grid bus to light his cigarette.
The Matrix quickly identifaxed the interlopers. “Code Alpha belligerents! Designate Con Johnstantine, Terran human, cross-reference irritating Englishmen; Designate Urthula Underess, Terran undead, sub-class revenant ghoul; Designate Herbert P Garrick, Terran human, cross-reference pain in the ass; Designate Amber St Clare, Terran human, category Lair Legion staff; Designate Visionary, Terran Lair Legion, veracity uncertain!”
“I’m real, dammit,” complained the possibly-fake man. “I’m Visionary, and you might have seen me in such productions as the Transworlds Challenge. Oh, and I come in peace. Or at least, I come to have a word with you. Please.”
“Alert war response units! Alert biodrones! Alert fast response date protection nodes! Alert Parody Cult software of Class Alpha contact!”
“Oh shut up,” snapped Fleabot, leaping from Visionary’s shoulder, growing in size to roughly that of a jeep, and jacking into the dataflow via the nearest open conduit. There was another round of electronic panic as the sensors finally detected the stealth contingent of the lighthouse crew.
“Code Alpha belligerents update! Designate Terran stealth and assassination unit Fleabot v1.00, cross-reference Zemo war technology!” The sensors spotted the shielded holographic emitter drone hovering at Vizh’s side. “Designate Terran Heuristic Artificial Life Learning…”
“Yes, I know who I am, thank you very much,” snapped Hallie. “Now if you could stop your electronic vapourings for a moment we’ve come a long way to talk to you.”
“You’re okay here?” Urthula whispered to Hallie as the AI assumed her humanoid hologram shape.
“Hell of a headache from all the electronic whispering but otherwise fine. Fleabot’s acting as a physical firewall to keep them from tearing my code to bits. It’s amazing to be on a world where evolution favoured electronic intelligences like me.”
Garrick shifted uneasily as the walls grew guns out of them. The high-spec elite of the Nexus could morph metal and circuitry. “We should have brought weapons with us. Or superheroes.”
“We’re a diplomatic mission,” Amber called. “We’ve just come to talk!”
The scanning went on. “Designate HALLIE has data memory of initiating VR mass transfer shunt to digital state!” the metallic commentator said. For the first time there was a reverent tone to its analysis.
“The Movie Gun stuff?” Hallie tried to sound nonchalant. “I do that all the time.”
“Yeah, let’s all stand around chatting,” complained Fleabot, “while I hold off the killer robots for another fifteen seconds.”
“We’d better get on with the diplomacy,” Urthula suggested. “I don’t think the tides are right to shift the lighthouse away again yet if things go badly.”
“And yet we brought Visionary as Earth’s spokesman,” noted Johnstantine.
Vizh swallowed, glared at the Englishman, and stepped forward to address the Nexus. “I, um, I need to talk to you. There’s information you don’t have.”
“Present your data, fleshy biped.”
“Right. Well, you probably think the Parody Master is about to wipe us out. You probably think this Parody War is a done deal. But it isn’t. We’re fighting the Parody Master. Right now. Today. The big finale’s coming up in the next few hours.”
“It is not in the interests of the Nexus to oppose the unstoppable.”
“He’s not unstoppable,” Hallie argued. “Come on. Think creatively. Is your future really assured as minions of the Parody Master? Extrapolate what he’ll do when the whole Parodyverse is under his command. Won’t he just absorb it as fuel so he can go off and start all this again somewhere else?”
A number of datawardens were tasked with undertaking the calculation.
“Since the Parody Master committed genocide on the Astrovids you’ve been running his trans-light information channels,” Visionary pointed out. “Check a few of his key bases if you think we’re kidding. Look at the Shee-Yar Royal Palace. Look at the Skunk homeworld.”
Instantaneous viewscreens blossomed from the framework of the Nexus. Sitting where the royal palace had been amidst the delicate pastel honeycomb of the Shee-Yar homeworld was the silver and slate sprawl of grimy Badripoor, the most corrupt and sleazy Pacific basin city formerly on Earth. It was also the place with the most metahumans per head of population anywhere. Right now those metahumans were involved in graphic terrain disputes with the Shee-Yar Imperium Guard.
spiffy flexed his energy-channelling fern and took down Temptest and Nightslide. Behind him Bev Campbell, his personal assistant, was engaged in a desperate legal wrangle with some imperial surveyors. “But if it’s on the royal palace then this domain is ours by right of conquest,” she argued. “It’s your own laws. spiffy is the new emperor of the Shee-Yar.”
The feather-headed man looked doubtfully at the fern-wielder who had just temporarily vanished under a dogpile of Imperium Guards. “He can’t be emperor. Mayor maybe.”
The viewing screens flicked their observation to the Skunk Homeworld, where Weed Wrichards and his three partners had created some kind of huge machine that seemed to be blocking the Skunks from shapeshifting. Right now they were fighting off a suddenly unpowered Super-Skunk.
“And do you know what time it is, kiddies?” asked Brick Laird, doubling one lumpy fist and pulling it back.
The panels changed view again. Now they showed the Avawarrior troop warship where over a dozen elite supervillains were rampaging through the ranks of the black and red clad troopers.
“Hey, that’s the Purveyors of Peril!” recognised Visionary. “That’s the appalling Appendage Man doing… that… to that Avawarrior. And that’s Anvil Man stomping that tank flat! And there’s that spooky Razor Ballerina spinning round and shedding those slice-through-anything shards! And… I don’t know who that laughing girl in the jester outfit is who’s glued those soldiers to that exploding weapons platform but she kind of reminds me of my therapist.”
“The Purveyors of Peril were supposed to have been lost when Herringcarp Asylum vanished,” Hallie noted.
“Yeah, but that Lyle kid got Herringcarp back, didn’t he?” noted Johnstantine. “Looks like he’s moving up into daddy’s shoes.”
Garrick turned to address the nearest camera extension protruding from the framework around them. “The point is,” he argued, “that we’re well capable of resisting the Parody Master. You need to reconsider your allegiance.”
“If we’re going to stop him, it has to be now,” Vizh agreed. “And you don’t often find Garrick and I saying the same thing.”
“What could the Nexus do against power such as his?” asked the Nexus.
“Are you kidding?” snorted Fleabot. “Why d’you think the PM wiped Astrovidia. You got the best attack in the Parodyverse right now. You control the comms signals.”
“Just show that on the TVs of everybody across the galaxy and see who wants to join in,” suggested Johnstantine with a grin.
“You propose that the Nexus declassify key information nodes and disseminate to an open source list?”
Vizh nodded. “If everyone knows the truth, knows that the Lair Legion is fighting back, that this is the time to pick sides, to honour old alliances, then together we stand a chance. The Parody Master can’t be everywhere at once – or if he can he’ll be weakened. We need to…”
The possibly-fake emissary’s argument was never finished. The very ground around him burst up, great steel girders warping around him ready to punch through his ribcage. Steel restraints slipped up around Amber, Johnstantine, Urthula, and Garrick. Fleabot spasmed onto his side, assaulted with devastating virus code.
“Enemies of my master!” boomed Nexus 935, who had been transferred across as a bride of the Parody Master. “Now you shall be pared down to mere lines of source!”
“Or not.” Hallie’s hologram suddenly vanished as her HED surged forward. “Why do you think they brought me along? I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
Nexus 935 wasn’t impressed. “A mere Terran program cobbled from diverse conflicting operating systems?” she scorned. “Against the finest software ever written by the entire Reticulus?”
Hallie began by downloading her entire files on the Necronastycon and the Fairly Great old Ones. “Oh, I think I might have picked up a few tricks along the way,” she noted. “How about this one?” She grabbed a section of Nexus 935 and e-mailed it to the Moon Public Library for D.D. to have a go at.
Nexus 935 spawned another wave of virus to overwrite her enemy’s operating system. Fleabot caught it and used it against the destructive code already clawing at his systems.
Hallie released her Roni Y Avis spamfile at Nexus 935. “But this is not true…” the bride of the Parody Master puzzled as a thousand African princes sought her help for vital money transfers. “I do not even have an e-bay account to be suspended!”
“I can see massive hacked areas in your programming,” Hallie pointed out, transmitting the data along so the rest of the Nexus could see what the Parody Master had done to their finest software. “It must have been horribly painful. And a gross insult to the work of art your code is. It must be terrible to be so disfigured with those brutal obedience protocols and personality wipes.”
Nexus 935 slapped the interfering Terran program down, bringing her quadrabytes of processing power to bear to pin Hallie for destruction. “He is my Master!” she screamed. “He is Master of us all!”
Hallie jabbed the last of her free processing right at Nexus 935’s scarred BIOS to prompt a systems reset. Nexus 935 went down with a crackle of static and began a reboot from start. Visionary caught Hallie’s power-drained HED as it fell towards the grating floor.
“Your program has defeated Nexux 935,” said the Reticulus in awed tones of respect. “The Parody Master’s modifications must have damaged our node-sister indeed.”
“The Parody Master’s modifications are damaging everyone,” Amber pressed. “So whose side are you going to be on?”
The Nexus hurriedly activated conference mode.
“Are you okay, Hallie?” Vizh asked worriedly, shaking the HED hopefully.
“She’ll be fine when she gets plugged into the mains again,” reported Fleabot, massaging his cramped joints as he rose from the floor. “Ouch.”
“But what’s going to happen with these alien computers?” demanded Garrick. “Will they help us or destroy us?”
Three minutes later, Visionary’s face was projected across the Parodyverse.
“Um,” he said to the civilisations of the known galaxies. “Is this thing on?”
***
3: The Merchants of War:
The Austernal Paragon Class Exploration and Recognisance Vehicle known as Aunt Sally dropped from transwarp within fifty yards of the dimensional dreadnaught Lethal Encounter, released the magnaclamps holding the stolen negativity zone jumppoint generator so its own momentum slammed it into the dreadnaughts’s side at three-quarters the speed of light, then dropped back into the dimensional substratum to warp away again.
The Encounter rocked as the blast took out fully a third of the city-sized vessel. Primary systems went offline as it began to spill down into the gas giant Betelgeuse. Aunt Sally might have got away scot free had it not been for the other six dreadnaughts on station with the Encounter.
The massive ships detected the tiny Earth vessel and gave chase. Aunt Sally spotted the pursuit. “Oops,” she said. “Everybody had better hold on tight,” she warned the Klan Klayhog who were operating her various control stations. “This is going to be a little bit close.”
The dreadnaughts followed her into the dimensional substratum, gaining distance on her by the sheer power of their massive propulsion engines.
“This is getting a little close,” noted Clan Heir Argo. “Yesmin? Darling?”
“We’re almost there,” his wife assured him. “Sally, do you have the co-ordinates?”
In answer the Ausgardan exploration ship dropped out of high warp and came to a complete stop, twisting through one hundred and eighty degrees and priming (but not firing) her side cannons then jetting away at right angles to her previous course. The first dreadnaught to follow wasn’t so quick to manoeuvre and exploded as it impacted with a vast invisible wall.
“Oh dear,” sympathised Aunt Sally. “That must have hurt.”
The other five dreadnaughts failed to analyse Aunt Sally’s parabolic flight pattern and used their heavy cannon to destroy the little ship. Their force beams slammed into the invisible wall too, hitting the very edge of the massive bubble. Too late their analysis revealed them to be assaulting the very sphere of force their own Master had set around the conquered Galactivac, a cage of power that was set to return any attack against it tenfold.
The Parody Master granted whatever power was needed to the guns of his dreadnaughts. If their power was insufficient they could draw on him for more. But he has also willed the barrier that imprisoned the Living Death That Sucks, and set it to respond to any attempt at breach.
Aunt Sally manoeuvred the Klayhogs firmly round the other side of the bubble to avoid the explosions as four more dimensional dreadnaughts bloomed with brief fiery flares then vanished from space.
“One left, and it’s damaged,” Argo noted. “But we did set out to stop all of them.” He glanced at his wife and clan-brothers.
“I suppose we did,” sighed Yesmin. “And the Hooded Hood did force us to turn on our friends earlier. We have to make amends.”
Aunt Sally turned round again and accelerated straight towards the remaining damaged dreadnaught.
The Fatal Blow cycled up its main disintegrator port to blow the little ship into atoms. It paused only to check it would not shoot the Galactivac barrier again but that pause was fatal.
Aunt Sally fired right into the disintegrator port, destroying the mechanism, then flew through the hole she’d made so that she was actually soaring along inside the vast warship.
“Yeeeee-hah!” cried Zo and Quke, the excited young outriders manning Aunt Sally’s port and starboard gun nacelles, blowing their way through the Blow’s interior bulkheads.
“I swear we should never have let them watch that Terran programme about those good old boys,” Yesmin sighed. “It’s a bad influence on them.”
“Point me towards their main reactor plants,” Aunt Sally instructed the Klayhogs. “Let’s finish this.”
***
Slave D’Rothy looked around her at the squat ugly green buildings and the pulsing orange skies and knew she was back on Frammistat Eight. “Don’t be frightened,” Professor Blargelslarch assured the child. “This time we’ve not come alone.”
“No harm shall come to you,” promised Sir John de Jaboz, Knight Improbabalar. The armoured man carried only a sword, but by his discipline and natural abilities he could use that weapon to deflect even laser fire. There was something about the way he spoke, about the assured way he took command, that calmed D’Rothy’s fears.
“I believe in him,” she told the blonde woman who was holding her hand.
“He is very believable,” conceded Princess Lileblanche with an involuntary smile. “Now which way do we need to go?”
“The ownership banks are all that way,” Blargelslarch pointed. “If the Lovetoads are holding the planetary destruction codes that the Parody Master has established to ensure loyalty on all his conquered worlds, that’s where they’ll be stored. Those are the most secure buildings on the entire planet.”
“I can find the codes,” promised D’Rothy. “I can find most anything if I try hard enough. I can just see them in my mind.”
“Useful psionic talent,” approved Lileblanche. “High end psychometrists are rare.”
“That registry is where you Lovetoads keep details of the sentient beings you claim ownership of as well?” Sir John demanded of Blargelslarch.
“I’m Frammistatian,” the academic answered with dignity, “a Reptiloid but not a Lovetoad. It’s the same difference between being human and Republican. One’s a matter of genetics the other a choice of politics. But yes, those ownership bonds are lodged in the banks. Why?”
“Because I intend to blow up every single one,” answered the Knight Improbablar. “Any objections?”
Lileblanche grinned and linked her arm through his. “Not from me. Carry on, Sir Knight.”
***
The great web sprawled over half the landmass off Z’Sox, a vast ancient accumulation of spun chambers, some older than the civilisation that used them now. Everything was ordered here, every caste in place, every duty defined and understood.
The assassins were the highest of the castes, of course. Bred to kill, each of the guilds vied to produce the finest purveyors of death. Fully one third of Z’Sox’s planetary income came from offworld contracts to bring death.
Right now the Z’Sox were fully behind the Parody Master’s war of conquest. They had seen which way things were going and had wholeheartedly allied themselves with the conqueror of the Parodyverse. They had awarded him the bride of his choice, had refurbished the temples of Sh’Lob and L’lth as shrines to their new Master, and had grown rich and powerful on the work that had come to them and the opportunities for plunder their service allowed.
Now they were enforcers across the whole of the Parody Master’s wide empire. That was why the Science Elite had built the teleport threads into the Hall of Passages, twenty thousand doorways through space to distant worlds. When the remote alarm webs hummed their warning of insurrection on hundreds of worlds the great spiders left their training and assembled in orderly ranks to pass across the Parodyverse and bring brutal ends to the civil disorders.
Assassin-Queen S’Tab herself emerged from the conduit to the Master’s flagship to take command of the operation. “The empire is under attack by the Terransss,” she hissed in cold brisk tones. “Our Massster is dealing with the threat directly even asss we ssspeak, but he musssst not be dissstracted by trivial disssobedience on the fallen worldssss. You are authorised to ussse heavy forcssse to teach a final lesssson to those planetssss which rebel.”
The Z’Sox assassin-spiders clattered their spinnerets together in unison and moved towards their designated dimensional doorways.
Then the explosions went off all around the Hall of Passages, blowing out the vital data relays that maintained the delicate portals. Each of the transfer gates closed, filled now only with static fuzz.
One door only remained open, that to the obscure remote edge-world of Plxtrazia; and through it swarmed humans.
“Take them down,” ordered their leader, a female in shocking bubblegum-pink battle armour, wielding a long katana and a disintegrator pistol.
“Take them down with style,” corrected the man in the over-large pinstriped suit and fedora next to her. Frankie of the Zoot Suit Gang used an old style chattergun to hold back the incoming assassins. “Don’t give these mugs a chance, though.”
Akiko Masamune gestured for her bioborg operatives to somersault into the battle, engaging them against the red-striped spiders who were heavy assault specialists. She sent her transformerbots with their enhanced sensor grids against the stealth arachnids.
“Human criminalssss!” recognised the newly-returned S’Tab from her place high on the upper webs. “A lassst desssperate attack to sssabotage our ssssupressssion of their rebellionsss!”
A razor sharp blade sliced through the web-strands that kept the assassin-mother in place, spilling her to the floor below. “A simple diversion,” said Chiaki Bushido, the Psychic Samurai. She dropped down beside her enemy. “We have already accomplished the first part of our mission, destroying that Hall of Passages and confining you to your planet so you cannot stop the resistance. Only the second part remains.”
“And that issss?”
Chiaki lowered her blade. “Destroying you,” she replied. “Let’s see how well you fare against a warrior when she is not poisoned.”
S’Tab drew six blades for six of her legs. “Let us ssssee, then,” she hissed.
***
The great broadcast towers of Astrovidia were silent now, the whole artificial planet filled with the corpses of a people who had defied the Parody Master. In distant parts of the devastated city explosions bloomed like lurid orange roses as Earth forces clashed with occupying troops of the Ava-armies. But the incursion was designed to pull the Parody Master’s forces away from Transmission Tower Nine, the least damaged of the great faster-then-light satellite projectors which had once sent news and entertainment across the galaxy.
Leticia Gahagan, the Idiom, clipped the last of her home-made shortcut devices into the communications rack and patted the equipment affectionately. “There, that should do it,” she decided. “Let’s power up the array and see what happens.”
“We’d better hope the tower defences are still operational when the power comes back on,” April Apple noted. CrazySugarFreakBoy!’s wife was wearing her Groovy Gecko-Girl outfit but she didn’t feel confident about stopping endless hordes of rampaging avawarriors.
“Hey,” grinned PsychoAcodPervGirl, “This is where we hold them! This is where we fight! This is where they die!”
“I’d prefer we did this without bloodshed,” the Idiom commented. “Well, it looks like the transmission array’s all patched into the Reticulum Matrix channels. We’re ready for Radio Free Parodyverse to go on the air.”
PAPG! nodded. “The world will know that freemen stood against a tyrant, that few stood against many, and before this battle is done, that even a god king can bleed.”
“That too, darling,” agreed Meggan Foxxx, taking up the microphone. “But first let’s tell folks that the time’s come to kick the Parody Master in the ass.” She nodded for Leticia to go live. “This is Meg Foxxx speaking for Earth and the Lair Legion. Good morning Parodyverse! We got hot news for you, and you’re going to like this.”
“Peoples of the universe,” PsychoAcidPervGirl! chuckled in the background. “Please attend carefully.”
***
Others might get all the power, but Sister Bartok was going to get the glory.
The acolyte of the Parody Master had been all but forgotten, left behind after the unsuccessful incursion into China as she the Avatar had ordered to prepare the failsafe. With the support squad of technicians and a dozen Avawarriors she’d made her way to the deserted fortress at Hughlong Dao, the deserted island fortress of the fallen Devil Doctor. There, behind sophisticated stealth screens, she had begun the task of preparing the Master’s great surprise for humanity.
The creatures were called the Broob, a cross between a H.R. Giger nightmare and a velociraptor. They’d evolved in hard vacuum on the asteroids of the galactic ridge with a colossal appetite and the unpleasant habit of laying their young in the paralysed bodies of their partially-eaten living victims. Sister Bartok has been send to hatch out five hundred of their eggs and keep them in stasis until the Parody Master sent word.
Sister Bartok had kept silent and hidden all those months that her Master had been denied access to Earth by the Celestian barrier. She’d nursed her charges, watching them grow to full size in their sedation pods until they were each nine feet long with razor armour and caustic saliva. She’d trained them to attack anyone wearing a yellow coat on sight and to be enraged by fire.
And she’d waited.
“I’m guessing that you’re not a great thinker,” suggested Champagne, entering the vast dark lab that the tech squaddies had found in the caverns beneath the island. The international jewel thief pointed to the carvings on the archway she was stepping through. Sister Bartok hadn’t even known there was a doorway there. “The engravings on these lintels form a Fibbonaci sequence to show where the secret passages are. You blocked the obvious entrances with force fields but completely missed the Devil Doctor’s hidden exits.”
“Guards!” called Bartok. “Intruder alert!”
Champagne held her hands up as Avawarriors surrounded her. One of them took the spherical object she was holding from her and handed it to a wary tech officer.
“It was easy enough to find you,” Champagne told the cultist. “All I needed to do was hack into your biofeed monitors to work out you were raising alien monsters, trace where the protein solution purchases were being delivered, then do a little creative architectural study, and here I am.”
“Here you are,” snarled Sister Bartok, “captured and ready to die. Nothing can save you from being fed to my little pets, and we have gained control of your secret weapon, your…” She paused for a report from the technical officer.
“Her ballcock,” the puzzled servitor supplied.
“Her what?”
“Ballcock,” Champagne repeated. “From the Devil Doctor’s lavatory. Well, since he actually turned out to be an undead Makluan dragon maybe it was a guest lavatory. I didn’t stop to check all the evidence. But it’s definitely a ballcock.”
All the technicians were scanning the greened-copper sphere now. “It appears to have no offensive capabilities,” frowned their commander. “I can detect no circuitry or energy source.”
“Perhaps the technology is too advanced for our scanners?” worried his assistant.
“No,” explained Champagne. “It’s just a ballcock – a float on the valve in a toilet water tank that stops it overflowing by closing the feed when the water level reaches the right point. Without it the tank overflows.”
Sister Bartok was puzzled. “You located and somehow penetrated our secret base merely to vandalise a water closet?”
Champagne shook her head and grinned. “You’ve protected this place with all kinds of sophisticated force screens and so on. You’d have detected an invasion force and released those Broob horrors into the wild. They need to be dealt with here, where they’re contained, so the force fields need to stay up for now. I even adjusted your screens to block the secret entrances you didn’t find. So now we’re all trapped in here until those monsters are dealt with.”
“And you intend to defeat a squad of unstoppable Avawarriors, backed by tech officers and bioborgs?” Sister Bartok scorned, “Not to mention the fearsome intellect of Sister Bartok?”
“I fear your intellect all right,” Champagne admitted. “And maybe your Adam’s apple. But no, I rather thought I’d leave dealing with you, your troopers, and those Broob things to my secret allies.”
Again the servants of the Parody Master were puzzled. “Allies? What allies? You just said yourself that you’d sealed all the corridors.”
“But I busted the ballcock,” the blonde thief reminded them. “So that means we have water gushing into the bathroom. And that means…”
“It means an attack of the Sea Monkeys, thank you very much,” Princess Uuuukelele completed the revelation. “We take a very dim view of biogenetic killing organisms, you know. It gives the rest of us a bad name.”
“Sea monkeys?” asked Sister Bartok, just before five hundred artemia nyos grew from brine shimp to human size and fell upon the Avawarriors. “Aaaaghh!!”
Champagne left the sea monkeys to their victory and went to quietly empty the Devil Doctor’s treasure vault.
***
Blackgullet Bugwallah had been appointed Grand Slimy Slaver Lovetoad by the Parody Master himself, ending the long wranglings to buy the position by the simple expedient of executing all the other candidates. He had everything to gain by upholding his Master’s empire and plenty of enemies waiting to replace him if he should fail.
When things started blowing up in the city it was only natural that he, as his people’s most valuable asset, should be kept safe in the ownership banks. What he hadn’t counted on was a little slave girl who’d been bought as a baby and brought up in the Lovetoad stockhouses that had a gift for tracking anything anywhere, and for knowing over-ride lock codes by pure instinct.
Slave D’Rothy was able to bring Dr Blargelslarch and her humans right to the Lovetoad himself.
“Guards!” called Blackgullet. “Guards!”
“I love it when they call for their guards like that,” admitted Sir John de Jaboz. “It’s that note of surprised horror in their throats as they realise that all their years of villainy come with a price.”
“Well sorry to spoil your fun,” Liliblanche told the knight, “but if you remember we came here for a reason. Make him tell us where the destruction codes are so I can destroy them and we can get on.”
“I-I can’t tell you that!” the Lovetoad stammered as the Knight Improbablar did gory things to his elite bodyguards.
“Of course you can,” the princess of the Esperines told him. “Or I could make you explode, if you’d prefer.”
“Codes,” mumbled Dr Blargelslarch, looking around him at the massive data banks stacked high with control interfaces. “Hmm. D’Rothy, do you happen to be able to know the codes that would shut off the discipline collars of every slave across the planet? The ones that prevent slaves from using force to defend themselves from their masters?”
Little D’Rothy concentrated then nodded.
“Oh my,” beamed Dr Blargelsarch happily.
***
Spider and human moved with perfect precision, attack and counter-attack, thrust and parry, neither able to gain the advantage, neither willing to give ground. For two minutes, three, four, they moved in lethal balletic synchronisation, neither managing to even touch the other.
“Your friendssss are dying down there,” S’Tab told Chiaki. “They cannot hold off the clanssss for much longer. Already they are falling back through their ssstolen portal. We will pick off the sssurvivorsss, and then you will be alone.”
“Is that an admission that you cannot beat me?” the Psychic Samurai challenged. She anticipated the change in tactics that the queen suddenly made and the rhythm of the contest changed again.
“I do not have your pitiful concsseptsss of honour,” hissed S’Tab. “For usss it isss the kill that matterssss.”
“And for me how I live is more important than how I die,” answered Chiaki. Suddenly she lunged forward, impaling herself on the spider’s blade, pushing it in and through her torso so she could slide inside S’Tab’s defence. “Like this,” she said, slicing off her enemy’s head.
She saw the light go out in the spider’s multi-compartmented eyes. S’Tab toppled over. A great hum of dismay rose from the spider below.
Chiaki slid back off the spider-queen’s blade, feeling the burning in her chest. Of course the weapon would have been poisoned.
“The task is done,” she said, before blackness overtook her.
***
“The destruction codes have been neutralised,” Kat Allen reported, looking up from her communications console in the Lair Mansion Operations Room. “Amazing Guy is reporting that rebellions are springing up now all across the Parodyverse. Spontaneous uprisings on Shee-Yar, on New Skree, on Skunk Prime, amongst the Joad Majanu and the J’Minti and the Shankaru, even at the Watchpoint of the Observers. D.D.’s heard from Selinda Saxmendim at the Great Repository. Even Naicluv’s finally picked a side and is making a stand with us.”
“Jolly good,” Sir Mumphrey responded. “Send off the message to Xnylonia, please, and then join the other civilians for the evacuation, m’dear. I think things are going to get a little busy around here quite soon.”
***
4: The Holy War
The great Cathedral Ship had been built by the Ecclesiasts of Elygium, but after they had been eradicated Most Holy Taus had appropriated the crystalline wonder as the central pontificate of the Parody Cult. From here hundreds of thousands of Parody priests went forth to proselytise and demand confession amongst the ever-growing territories conquered by their Master.
The great vessel was not only the most sacred of temples to the Parody Master but also one of the best defended. Their Master granted his senior priests occult powers or magnified minor talents of their own. The lesser cultists could act collectively, crafting their own miracles through group rituals and sacrifices. The Cathedral Ship was protected by guardians seen and unseen.
When the rebellion spread across the galaxies like wildfire Holy Taus summoned the most devout of his acolytes back to the Cathedral Ship, both to guard it and because together with them he could summon up the darkest of magics to crush nonconformity. The vessel was sealed with wards empowered by the Parody Master himself, making it an unbreachable occult fortress in the last campaign of the Parody War.
It didn’t occur to anybody that the enemy might already be present before then barriers were activated. And nobody thought to look for trouble amongst the sacrificial virgins.
On a lower deck, where the crystal walls were darkened with dried blood, the young women taken from their homes and families as spoils of war by the Parody cultists cowered and waited for their time at the worship rack and the piety altar. Watched by ever-vigilant mute techno-zombies they had no chance of escape or hope for the future.
Until the techno-zombies began to fight each other.
The captives watched in horrified fascination as first one, then a dozen, then hundreds of the rotting shambling guards began to turn on their fellows, literally ripping each other to pieces.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Ebony of Nubilia commented as she pulled apart one of the defence triptychs in its wall niche and rearranged the sacred components into something different.
“Vampires are supposed to have command over lesser undead,” answered Grace O’Mercy, the Night Nurse. “I just told them to remove any and all electronic implants from each other.”
“Greater vampires have command over lesser undead,” clarified Ebony. “Scary greater vampires thousands of years old.”
“I must have just got lucky then,” evaded Grace.
There were shouts from the gallery overhead. The zombie-callers and Sacrifice Priests had spotted their zombie technical problems and were coming to intervene.
“Without those cybernetic implants to allow the zombie callers to control the, those undead might be a bit angry,” estimated Ebony. “Oh yes, look. They’re expressing themselves to their former controllers.”
Grace shuddered. She wasn’t really used to violence. “Those poor people are getting ripped apart. And eaten.”
“Yeah, you’re a scary greater vamp alright,” retorted the high priestess of the Manga Shoggoth.
Flapjack joined them just then, hauling along an impossible large crate on his hunched back. “Okay, I got the worst kind of Charlie horse from dragging this stuff,” the lecherous major domo complained. “I hope one of you’s going to massage it better?”
“Just put the box down over there,” Ebony instructed him. “The cultists are about to activate their arcane defences and I want to see how they react to my modifications.” She pressed the last of the talismans into its new configuration and added a blob of Shoggoth from her amulet for good measure.
There was a shrieking sound and a series of mystic not-good whooshes from around the complex as the Parody priests tried to use their pre-prepared spells.
“Nice,” appreciated Flapjack. “But I was told we were saving virgins. When do I get to save them?” He leered. “Do I get to keep some for later?”
“No,” said Grace firmly.
“You mean I have to save them all from being virgins right here, right now?” the hunchbacked butler asked. “Well, I’m game to try.”
“That’s not the method we’re intending to use,” Ebony explained clearly.
Flapjack muttered sourly.
“I think this control here would open the pens and let those poor women out,” Grace noted, inspecting the black operations board with the runes on it.
“Let them free then, please,” Ebony instructed. “Flapjack, get that crate open.”
“You could at least let me keep one or two of the more collectible virgins,” muttered the major domo as he crowbarred off the top of the box he’d carried. “They’re quite rare, you know.”
The Night Nurse unlocked the cell gates. Ebony shepherded the uncertain, frightened sacrificial victims past the remains of the zombie uprising. Alarm klaxons echoes through the Cathedral Ship and the alarm lighting painted everything in a lurid red wash.
“Don’t be frightened,” Ebony of Nubilia told the girls. “We’re here to set you free.”
“You’ve come to rescue us?” asked one timid sacrifice.
“We’ve come so you can be free,” Grace O’Mercy clarified. “You have to rescue yourselves.”
“You’re not victims any more,” Ebony told them. “You can control your own fates, choose your own futures. You can resist what the Parody Master and his horrible priests want to do to you. You can fight back and save yourselves.”
“Or there’s my method,” Flapjack offered before the Night Nurse stifled him.
The victims looked around each other, trembling with fear. “How can we save ourselves?” one asked with dismay.
“There are so many of the holy ones,” another quavered. “And they have terrible powers.”
“Leave the terrible powers to us,” offered Ebony. “As for the rest, watch carefully. This box contains presents for all of you. Flapjack?”
The hunchback leered and handed out the gifts. “This, ladies, is what we call an M249 Squad Automatic Weapon, an air-cooled, gas-operated, fully-automatic-only machine gun that fires from an open bolt position. It can accept belts of linked NATO .223 inch ammunition through the top-mounted feed tray or M16-type magazines through the side-mounted port.”
“Ebony smiled at the women. “We brought enough for each of you.”
The revolt of the sacrificial victims had begun.
***
No matter how glorious and massive a cultist temple is, somewhere somebody has to get the blood and grime off the sacred vestments. And that means that somewhere there’s a laundry.
And if there’s a laundry then there’s a way for Mr Li and his staff in infiltrate.
The first the slave drudges aboard the Cathedral Ship knew about this was when the ancient Chinaman strode onto the work floor past a huge pile of cassocks, clapped his hands, and called for everyone’s attentions.
“You will all take the day off,” he announced. “You will please go with this young lady and you will be given biscuits.”
The serfs looked puzzled and frightened.
“Good biscuits,” Ruby Waver assured them. “Not the rubbish wafers he used to get in when they cleansed a place. Proper stuff with chocolate and bits of nut in them. Cookies. I like to think that the quality of rescue at Mr Li’s Laundry has improved immensely since I came to work here. This way, please.”
Mr Boilface held open the curtained aperture that hadn’t been there earlier and shepherded them through to where Callie was cackling over a tea urn.
The slave overseer had objections, of course.
Right up to the point where the silent golem Shadrach pulled his head off.
***
The alarm klaxons spread across the Cathedral, tolling bells warning of intruders and insurrection. Confusing reports were coming in of disobedient undead, of escaped victims with firearms and small bore anti-tank weapons, of the disappearance of hundreds of drudge labourers.
Holy Zadokus was displeased. He stood in his hall of crystals and prepared to loose some of the vicious captive spirits in his collection to bring savage order back to this sacred place.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, mate,” advised Tanner, one of Mr Li’s laundrymen.
Zadokus didn’t engage in banter. He simply released a Fivefold Curse of Flesh Flaying.
Tanner caught it and shredded it in his hands.
“Those spirits are most unhappy,” warned Legumo, the pale thin man beside Tanner. “I can see the future. I know truth. They’re not at all pleased to be shut away in those crystal prisons.”
Zadokus sent out the Scarlet Serpents of Saggaroth to imprison the intruders. Tanner bit through them.
“You’re going to call for guards next,” Legumo predicted to the Parody priest. “Then they’ll die.”
“Guards!” shrieked Zadokus.
Tanner shredded them like he’d done the magics. Legumo shuddered and moved to a spot where the coming blood-spray wouldn’t cover him.
“Go on then,” Tanner challenged Holy Zadokus. “Set your soul-bound spirits loose. But there’s one thing you should know first.” He tossed the tangled shredded remains of the spirit nets that Zadokus and the Sisters of Agony used to keep the tormented souls in check. “They might not want to obey you any more.”
Zadokus decided the time had come to withdraw and triggered his rune of teleportation.
Nothing happened. Legumo had seen that coming too and had already pocketed the little crystal disc.
“You’ve not been a very nice man,” Tanner told Zadokus. “And I’ve never much liked priests anyhow. So now you’re going to hurt, and then you’re going to die.”
“It’s true,” winced Legumo. “You are.”
“Pick a limb,” ordered Tanner with a fierce mad glee.
“He’s going to pick his left arm,” Legumo predicted.
The alarm bells very nearly drowned out Zadokus’ screaming.
***
Most Holy Taus was ready for Xander the Improbable this time. As the sanctum door opened despite the complex wardings around it the High Priest of the Parody Master screamed “Fire!” Half a dozen cultists with laser rifles shot searing holes through the red robed figure who peered inside.
“Hah-ha!” gloated Taus, dancing in savage glee as the intruder went down with half a dozen holes bored through him. “You expected magical attacks, didn’t you? You expected to do clever things deflecting arcane energies to other targets. You never thought I’d dispense with the witticisms and simply have you shot like a dog!”
The man in the red robes sat up with a hurt expression on his face. “I had my best dressing gown on under this robe,” complained the Abyssal Greye. “That was just rude.”
“What?” scowled the High Priest. “You’re not Xander!”
“Very observant,” said a voice by Taus’ ear. The High Priest whirled round as Xander grabbed his staff off him and used its protective properties to hold off a new round of laser blasts from the enthusiastic cultists.
The Abyssal Greye got up and began casually tearing into the people who’d ruined his gown. Just because he was the Dean of the Scholar-Ghouls Under Gothametropolis didn’t stop the wiry figure from being able to eviscerate annoying cultists who didn’t run fast enough.
“I warned you once that we’d be having another chat,” Xander told Taus. “A last chat.”
“You caused this… this chaos throughout the Cathedral,” accused the High Priest.
“I wouldn’t want to take all the credit,” the master of the mystic crafts noted. “A lot of enthusiastic talented people offered their services to stomp your nasty little cult into the ground. I’d like to think the explosions and screaming and the Parody priests wetting their pants was something of a group effort. Think of it as our way of giving something back to the community.”
Holy Taus had regained his equilibrium. “You were foolish to come here, little mage,” he warned. “My Master gives me unlimited power to draw upon, unlimited resources to defeat those who blaspheme against his will.” He gestured so the staff Xander had taken flamed away to nothing.
“Magic isn’t about power,” the Abyssal Greye observed, licking the blood off his fingers and replacing his half-moon spectacles. “But I expect you’re going to have to learn that the hard way. Most cult high priests do.” He looked around him at the slaughtered fanatics. “I’ll be on my way now that I’ve done my bit. I really don’t want to be in the area when Xander does whatever it is he’s got planned for you.”
“Xander?” snorted Taus. “Xander can do nothing now but scream. And then I shall come for you, undead.”
The ghoul looked at the High Priest with a mixture of contempt and sympathy, then shuffled out, leaving bloody carpet-slipper tracks to mark his passage.
A new round of explosions shook the sanctuary, sending shards of crystal spilling from the walls to shatter to dust on the floor. Xander stared at Most Holy Taus. “How shall we end this, then?” the sorcerer supreme of the Parodyverse challenged. “A chess game? Riddles in the dark? A contest of wills? You channel your energies at me and I turn them back to evaporate you? I release all the restless spirits you’ve bound into this structure over the years and give them your home telephone number? What do you say?”
Taus took a step back despite himself. He’s seen Xander be flippant and irritating and irrelevant and devious. He’s never seen Xander be focussed. And angry.
“I won’t kill you now,” Taus warned the mage. “I’ll cripple you but keep you alive, for centuries. For millennia. Screaming and pleading.”
“With no biscuits except for plain rich tea, I imagine,” Xander answered scathingly. “After a while the threats become as meaningless as your doctrines.” He stepped forward. “And now I know how you’re going to end.”
Taus’ nerve broke. “It is you will die, not me!” he screamed, and unleashed his massive occult might against the master of the mystic crafts.
Xander winced and furrowed his brows to withstand the onslaught. There were no flashing visual effects of strange winds. There was only concentration, two minds striving to dictate to the universe how it was going to be.
“I can sense your weakness, sorcerer,” sneered Taus. “You are reaching your limit, whereas my will is fully committed but my power is without end.”
“Yes, about that,” Xander grimaced. “Now that you’re channelling absolutely everything to destroy me, what about them?”
The sanctuary door shattered to pieces as Ebony led the rampaging sacrificial virgins into the room. They saw the High Priest who had slaughtered so many of their kind.
“Ah ah!” Xander called as Taus tried to divert some of his energies to protect them from their improvised weapons. “Your will is fully committed to destroying me, remember? You can channel all that amazing power at me – and only at me.”
The horde of blood-splattered frenzied escaped victims surrounded Most Holy Taus. He was trying to shout something as he vanished beneath the mob.
Xander felt the pressure go from the mystic assault he was enduring, then vanish altogether. He glanced through his hands at what was happening with the High Priest of the Parody Master.
“Ooh, that had to hurt!”
***
Continued in Untold Tales #320: More Total War, with Part Five: The Morality of War.
Tie Ins:
Addressing the Universe by Visionary, covering the actual content of the possibly-fake man's Parodyverse-wide speech
Life Education by AnimeJason, explaining how Chiaki escaped the Z'Sox
***
Who’s Who of the Parody War: The Cast List
In order of appearance or reference:
Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity, leader of Earth’s combined defence force
Katarina Allen, a weaver, Mr Epitome’s girlfriend, helping out at the Lair Mansion
Hallie, the Lair Legion’s resident artificial intelligence, keeper of the virtual realm
NTU-150 (Jamie Bautista) millionaire industrialist inventor, Legionnaire
Tandi 3000, former sexbot turned waitress, helping out at the Lair Mansion
Amazing Guy, protector of the Parodyverse, honorary Legionnaire
D.D., computer intelligence responsible for administration at the Lunar Public Library
Premiere (Victor Brooke), last science hero from the alternate universe of Technopolis
Bernice Teschmaker, embedded reporter at the Lair Mansion
Miss Framlicker, scientist and administrator at Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises
Colonel Dan Drury, Director of S.P.U.D.
Cody Harper, teenaged son of Al B. Harper
Kara Harper, teenaged daughter of Al B. Harper
Amy Aston, engineer at Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises
Contessa Natalia Romanza, S.P.U.D. superspy
Marie Murcheson, formerly a banshee at the Lair Mansion, now resurrected
Hagatha Darkness, crone and witch
Ebony of Nubilia, high priestess of the Manga Shoggoth
Manga Shoggoth, loathsome elder beast, Legionnaire
The Abyssal Greye, dean of the scholar-ghouls under Gothametropolis
The Word of Logos (Gideon Book), servant of Order, a villain against the Parody Master, father of the kidnapped Pelopia
Visionary, a possibly-fake man, Legionnaire
Urthula Underess, party ghoul
Con Johnstantine, irritating English occult expert
Xander the Improbable, master of the mystic crafts, sorcerer supreme
The Necromancer General (Bogdan Vladivock), an evil necromancer, Urthula’s uncle
Herbert P. Garrick, “Bad News Herb”, Presidential advisor on metahuman issues
Amber St Clare, government liaison to the Lair Legion
Fleabot, a robot espionage flea
Sergeant Argus MacHarridan, detonator hippo, security chief at the Lair Mansion
Denial (Danny Lyle), the Hooded Hood’s son, current master of Herringcarp Asylum, boyfriend of kidnapped Kerry Shepherdson
Globetrotting Guardians, a team of reformed supervillains
Giant Hero Six, young Japanese heroes in morphing giant robots
FMRC C-Team, former trainees of the Federal Metahuman Resource Centre, now independent under the tuition of retired hero Gordon Summers
Frightsome Four, violent villain team
VelcroVixen (Vicki Vee), villainous aide-de-camp, field leader of the Purveyors of Peril
Terminus Team, a national service rehab programme for offending metahumans
spiffy (Mark Hopkins), president-for-life of the rogue nation-state of Badripoor, a Legionnaire
Nats (Bill Reed), vanished former Lord of Hell, former Legionnaire
The Abhumans, a reclusive powerful genetically bred secret race
The Morshlocks, degenerate tunnel dwellers deep below Paradopolis
The Outcasts, sewer-dwelling metahuman rejects below Paradopolis
The Hole Man, subterranean emperor of the Holeoids
Thighmaster, eccentric villainous ruler of the tiny European state of Barovia
Granny Grimness, headmistress of the Hog Soldier training academy on brutal Apocalyspe
Cleone Swanmay, an exile for Faerie, Xander’s familiar
Queen Annj, Ausgardian goddess, Donar’s wife
The Faerie Queene, queen of, um, Faerie
Oldman, All-Pappy of the Ausgardian gods
The Yurt (Vlastimock Bogoff), radioactive rampaging Russian peasant hut
Kerry Shepherdson, probability arsonist kidnapped by the Parody Master
Goldeneyed (Bry Katz), teleporter, Legionnaire
The Reticulus is a gestalt electronic civilisation allied to the Parody Master
Nexus 935 is one of their primary code nodes, and a bride of the Parody Master
The Astrovids were a communications and entertainment-obsessed alien race eradicated by the Parody Master
Beverly Campbell is PA and girlfriend to Badripoor’s President for Life, Mark “spiffy” Hopkins
Temptest and Nightslide are members of the Shee-Yar elite Imperium Guard
Dr Weed Wrichards and Brick laird are two of a team of four adventurers and scientists who explore the multiverse
Appendage Man (Milton Freebish), body-part-growing pervert, Purveyor of Peril
Anvil Man (Brendan MacGillicuddy), unstoppable demolitions juggernaut, Purveyor of Peril
Razor Ballerina (Mindy Kovkoski), razor-sharp terpsichore murderess
Mary Prankstar (Mary Louise Pfeffercorn), psychotic joker
The Fairly Great Old Ones are sanity-mangling Lovecraftian elder gods
Roni Y Avis is the scheming entrepreneur who pioneered internet spam
Aunt Sally, sentient Austernal exploration vehicle
Clan Heir Argo, young heroic leader of the spacefaring Clan Klayhog
Seeress Yesmin, prophetess of Clan Klayhog, Argo’s lifemate
Galactivac, the Living Death That Sucks, Hooverer of Worlds
Zo and Quke Klayhog, just two good ‘ol boys never meaning no harm
Slave D’Rothy, psychometrist child rescued by Hatman from the Inquisition
Professor Blargelslarch, political exile archaeologist and anthropologist Reptiloid from Frammistat Eight
Sir John de Jaboz, Knight Commander of the Knights Improbable from the alternate reality of the Swordrealms
Princess Lileblanche of Salem, of one of the royal families from the alternate reality of Esperine
Assassin-Queen S’Tab, arachnid clan mother of the Z’Sox V’nmm Guild, a bride of the Parody Master
Akiko Masamune, the world’s pinkest crimelord, mistress of Mangatown.
Frankie, of the Zoot Suit Gang, leader of a cabal of 40’s-themed criminals
Chiaki Bushido, the Psychic Samurai
The Idiom (Leticia Gahagan), unconventional scientific genius public menace
April Alice Apple (a.k.a. the Groovy Gecko Girl) CSFB!’s new wife
PsychoAcidPervGirl! (Gwendolyn Lyons), CSFB!’s twisted sister
Meggan Foxxx (a.k.a. Action Figure), CSFB!’s porn star mom, the LL’s occasional P.R. officer
Sister Bartok (formerly known as Brother Bartok), a cultist acolyte of the Parody Master
The Broob, a voracious species of alien predator
Champagne Cacciatore, beautiful international jewel thief
The Devil Doctor, an undead Makluan dragon in the form of an Oriental mandarin, now deceased
Uuuuukelele, Princess of the Sea Monkeys
The Slimy Slaver Lovetoad (Blackwallet Bugwallah), new supreme leader of the Slaver Lovetoads of Frammistat Eight
The Joad Majanu, a hologram species conquered by the Parody Master
The J’Minti, hippy space monks conquered by the Parody Master
The Shankaru, pirate monkey denizens of the smuggler havens of the Coalsack nebula, conquered by the Parody Master
The Observers, ancient watchers of events in the Parodyverse, conquered by the Parody Master
Selinda Saxmendim, a Crystaxian trainee Librarian of the Intergalactic Order of Librarians
The Naicluv, an advanced but indolent species who value perfection and who have remained aloof and shielded from the Parody War until now
The Xnylonians, telepathic dwellers on a hidden planet of concepts led by former Legionnaire Ziles
Most Holy Taus, Archcleric and High Priest of the Parody Cult
Grace O’Mercy, the Night Nurse, who also happens to be a vampire
Flapjack of the Carpathians, the Legion’s disgusting hunchbacked major domo
Mr Li, mysterious owner and operator of Mr Li’s Laundry of Doom
Ruby Waver, most recent assistant at the Laundry of Doom
Boilface, an enigma who works at the Laundry of Doom
Shadrach, a golem who works at the Laundry of Doom
Holy Zadokus, second clergyman of the Parody Cult
Tanner, a werewolf who works at the Laundry of Doom
Legumo, a cursed seer who works at the Laundry of Doom
Where’s Where for the Parody War:
In order of appearance or reference:
The Lair Mansion on Parody Isle, home and headquarters of the Lair Legion
Off-Central Park, green open space in the heart of the city of Paradopolis
Gothametropolis York, the crime-riddled grimy city across the river from Paradopolis
Paradopolis, the massive East coast urban city from which most of our heroes operate
Tiny Greece, a suburb of Paradopolis known for its markets and craft shops
The Virtual Realm, a computer reality in which Earth was recently hidden from the Parody Master
Caph, a star in the constellation Cassiopeia, usually home sun to the planet and denizens of Caph IX
Caph IX, home of the green-skinned Caphans, currently shifted forward in time to escape the Parody Master
The Moon Public Library, local branch of the Intergalactic Order of Libraries
Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises, a Gothametropolis-based weird science consultancy and dimensional transit business
Sheldon, the waterside and dock district of Paradopolis
Old tunnels under Paradopolis, filled with Morshlocks, Outcasts, sleeping elder beings etc.
The Twin Parody Tower, highest building in Paradopolis
Willingham Lighthouse, a dimensionally displaced tower whose light shines across dimensions, Visionary’s home
Reticulum Locus, a primary database of the computer race of Reticulans
New Skree-Lump, the homeworld of the conquered Skree Star Empire
Chalastis Core, a bleak swamp world turned into a prison camp
Skelvis, homeworld to the Shankaru, weaponmakers extrodinaire
Skunk Prime, the throneworld of the Skunk Confederation
Shee-Yar Alpha, the capital planet of the conquered Shee-Yar Imperium
The Great Relief , home to the Abhumans, formerly shut off behind a Negativity Zone barrier
Shankaru, conquered jungle homeworld of the Shankaru space-monkey pirates
Astrovidia, former homeworld of the Astrovids, wiped out by the Parody Master
Draum, conquered homeworld of the gastronome Draumids
J’Rondrus, conquered home of the insectoid J’Rondri mining corporations
Prospectis, conquered home of the galactic PR partnership of the Prospectii
Apocalyspe, contested brutal and terrifying home planet of Dark Thugos
Bloodworld, conquered planet ruled by vampires
Mount Shasta, California, mystical haunted second-largest mountain in the Cascade range
Ausgard, Mythlands home of the Antipodean Ausgardian gods
Faerie, the many-coloured realm
Herringcarp Asylum, bleak former base of operations of the archvillainous Hooded Hood, location of the dimension-linking Portal of Pretentiousness
The Reticulum Matrix is a vast spacefaring datanet, home of the electronic Reticulum sentiences
The Bloody Genocide, warship and training academy of the elite Avawarriors
The World-Ship of Galactivac, a massive vessel currently held in stasis by the will of the Parody Master near to the Caph system
Frammistat Eight, tropical homeworld of the Reptiloids, ruled by the Slimy Slaver Lovetoads
Z’Sox, shadowly web-covered world of the Z’Sox assassin-spiders
Plxtrazar, shattered rim world recently conquered by the Parody Master
Hughlong Dao (Dragon Island), a storm-tossed rock in the South China Sea, formerly headquarters to the insidious Devil Doctor
The Watchpoint, home of the ancient race of cosmic Observers, conquered by the Parody Master
The Great Repository, the Central Library of the Intergalactic Order of Librarians, conquered by the Parody Master
Xnylonia, homeworld of Ziles’ people, the elusive telepathic Xnylonians
The Cathedral Ship of Elygium, now home of the Parody Cult
***
Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2007 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2007 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
It amazes me how everyone is getting little character moments with a cast so large. Well done sir! (no text) - Hatman - Fri Aug 10, 2007 at 08:51:51 pm EDT