Sqquueuuueeooooooweeeoooooooesqquuuuuueeeeeeee!

Trio of Singers: You're tuned! to Kaayyyyy-NIT! Kay Enn Eye Tee...Saint Looooouuueeeee!

Crackle....

Announder: "Last time....on El Eye See See..."

Seeker's deep basso profundo: "DANGER, HUGE, SHATTERING..."

ShootingStar's dulcet tones: "Spidermobile....this is the New Dolphinmobile...if you can hear us, you must break the tractor beam and leave immediately!"

Ensign Ardluck's nasally yelp: "Bridge, there's been somekinda explosion in Hyperspace! Even though the epicenter is hundreds of light years away the dimensional scanners are going crazy!"

Taconator's distortion-filled Warnerian drone: "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, LEAGUE. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU HUMANS ANY MORE, I JUST WANT MY SON. NO! NO! Nooooooo!!!"

Spidora's gurgling speech: "Somekinda energy has caused various pieces of equipment to turn into older versions."

Announcer: "The League met Taconator's Engineworld in a final showdown, made even more dangerous by otherworldly pirates attacking, looking for booty! The GROSS Three made good their plans, and infiltrated Taconator's world, using BetaMax's unique power to bring the tyrant to his knees once and for all! Now...the Spidermobile is recovering from the effects of BetaMax's obsolesence power. Will their primitive spacecraft leak? Will they ever get home? Will the huge dimensional rift that is all that remains of Taconator's world have dangerous effects on the galaxy? Stay tuned to this frequency, loyal listeners!"

(The LICC senior staff are holding a meeting, but instead of a spacious observation lounge, they are in a small, cramped room with bare walls which can only be shot from one angle. When anyone has to make a point, they have to slip a squarish primary-colored disk into a slot, and crude displays will be shown on a screen on a monitor made of cheap plastic.)

We're in a bad state, and we don't know how to deal with it. So, I suggest we try to create some makeshift weapons and defenses, for in case we are attacked. We still have some, but I suspect they won't be very effective.

Nooooooooooo! Not another meeting! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...

sound of breaking glass as he jumps out a convenient nearby window

Sir, I have a status report of the changes.
Alex sticks a disk into the reader.
The only torpedos we have are old mark 5 nuclear mines, we have laser weapons, and the engines can only get up to warp 3.
According to Butrfli, the Doctor has become a static hologram and Sickbay has reverted to a 20th century operating room.
As for the computer, it only has 100.45kb of space, and seems to be run by a Microsoft system.
We have limited long range and short range sensors, and internal sensors can only locate known crewmembers.
The Furbies seem to have been transformed into one of those pull string toys. Oddly enough, when you pull the string, their normal comments come through.

Meeting Man is at the meeting, happily taking notes, writing agendas, etc...

Delgado, or rather, his accoutrements, have been radically altered by the phenomenon. Instead of his utility belt, he is now outfitted with a gigantic backpack with several large, bulging pockets. His equipment is similarly altered; his sabers have been transformed to dirks, the blackout bombs are now rocks, and his remote device is now a clipboard with at least fifty pages of paper stuffed under the clip.

"Does anyone know the status of the Bad News Drive? We've certainly got enough fuel for it, so to speak..."

A deep booming voice echoes

Who knows what evil lurrrr... Oh, I'm sorry, I thought this was being done like a radio show.

The sound of footsteps can be heard receding into the distance

Milkshake is poring over several old, bulky 23rd-century PDAs, all of which are displaying status reports. He has also discarded his useless (to him) armor and now is attired in a standard Terran Navy active duty jumpsuit from the mid 2600s.

No, looks like the Bad News Drive is now just a Vaguely Unpleasant Impulse Engine, which will push us at barely 0.3c. Which means we're extremely far from home without even a viable chance of getting back in our lifetimes. The Atlantis seems to be totally gone.

Looks like our first objective is to build the best equipment and system upgrades we can with what we have, and then look for an inhabited system and see if they can help us.

The Docking Bay supervisor says our auxillaries are still coming in, but we're missing several fighters and light craft, as well as Seeker and Artsy. Let's get on this right now.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Click click click...whirrr...

Alright, I don't know if this is working. Personal log, Ensign Yiaquin Ceffiree. Now, I'm guessing on this...Thursday, July 7th, 3003. Bijianian year 45,338. Uh...

...1312 hours. All hells have broken loose on the ship. The Captain ordered general quarters during the battle, which seemed to last several hours. We got closer and closer to Taconator's world and then from what I could see, the entire planet started to glow, and then everything became very very strange. Everything's become old, somehow. My laklka collection, the computer, my personal log PADD, even the bathroom fixtures. Everything is old and bigger and creakier. Lots of shouting from outside, in the corridors. I'm not leaving my quarters right away, I'll wait for an announcement from the Captain or Rikard or someone before I know it'll be safe.

Join the Navy, see the galaxy, they said. Great opportunities. In my next life I'll be more careful.

Tick...shickooooduuuuuuuu

"Were the ship's libraries affected? We might be able to do some research and start a chain of upgrades, building on the technology we already have..."

It looks like the sensors still have a max range of a light year. Wait, now half a light year. Still going down. Still dropping. Still dropping. Still dropping. Geez, it's never going to stop. Ah, there we go. The decrease in range is slowing. Looks like it's settling around 250 million kilometers.

We could scan the area and see if we can find any clues on how to reverse this.

(The near region of space is absolutely littered with debris, making it near-impossible to find anything, at least with just background passive sensors and a pair of keen eyes. But then, starkly lit by the massively glowing dimensional rift, he sees a red shape against the glitter and stars.)

"Seeker."

(The fine old '42 Mitsubishi Pulsar-L handles like a dream, and Morgan brings the silver shuttle right up against the adrift, motionless Seeker.)

"Something must be wrong." Seeker?

(Morgan sends a worried telepathic query, but has no way of knowing if the traveler hears him. Time is of the essence. He engages the old 'soft' graviton docking latches, and begins to tow Seeker back to the Spidermobile.)

Announcer: Meanwhile... (takes deep breath and says the following really fast) Cyber 9 was treated and was cured of the X-CwX genetic disorder as was 12 of 10 and Myriad, the solution was transfered to the Chameleonmobile's Medical computers to be taken back to the 64th century where it will be used to treat the victims of the X-CwX assimilation techniques as well as any X-CwX who wish to live now that the Overlord Taconator is apparently dead. Dragonette attempted to reverse the obsolesence by casting a spell on an affected shuttle but she wasn't strong enough to completely reverse the effect, but she could cast a spell that would slowly reverse the effects, but didn't know how long it would be before everything would be back to normal. Then before anything else could be done some powerful aliens came out of the dimensional rift, fortunately the LegionICC & Myriad's vessels forced them back into the rift, they followed the aliens into the rift which sealed up behind them and five minutes later a crosstime message came to the Spidermobile from the 64th century saying they had been unable to return through the rift & after weeks of fighting had returned to the 64th century. And yes The Funky Horror was with them. There, another dangling plot thread no one cared about is finally wrapped up with a ribbon and pretty bow. *gasp* *wheeze* (sound of inhaling)

Jadlad makes his way to where his Psuedoscince station was. Yes, WAS!

What the?! A couple of books on cartoon physics, books about cartoons written by Jerry Beck, and really bad movie DVDs?!

Jerry Beck and Will Friedwald, you mean.

Yep. My fault.

Day 105, Bunk #2748, Spidermobile.

Dear whoever,

Things have taken a really strange turn in the last week. The Hawkflint's mediaeval decor somehow disappeared during the dying minutes of the battle, and things were running as could be expected from a little heavily damaged fighter piloted by yours truly. The last thing I remembered was just managing to get Lt. Insane's fighter back in the hangar bay before the Hawkflint crumbled into its constituent elements of bolts, Meccano struts and shrink-wrapped IKEA flat-pack self-assembly shelving. Which is strange as the fighter's logs don't recall going to any furniture store in its construction. When I woke up there was a drip up by my bed and an old-fashioned neck brace. Had we returned to the Dark Ages yet again? As it happened, our tech's gone downhill once more. I'll need to get out my toolkit and try to do a bit more work on the old ship to get her back to her old glory. So far I've concentrated on the basics and got a rudimentary flight recorder working.

My own backup of record tapes has become a sturdy leather-bound journal with classy metal ball-point pen not seen for over a thousand years. Am having to write everything now - it's giving my hand the cramps. The Hawkflint's computer, bless its soul, sustained heavy damage and got battle dementia and, after a brief recovery, is now slowly regressing into the intelligence of a three-year-old Labrador. I've detached its core from the remnants of the Hawkflint and am nursing it back to health here in my bunk (which used to be a luxurious ten foot by three foot box room minus window, but never mind), though I've got bruises on my head when hitting it in my sleep. Here's hoping it doesn't turn into a ZX81 overnight.

Worst of all, my Old Phyll has shrunk down into the form of a potted cactus, a shadow of his former self! Who's going to look after my quarters while I sneak off and go on exciting space adventures with my superiors behind everyone's back? He looked after me all my life, and I'm going to look after him and protect him from my jealous bunkmates. See? I didn't even have bunkmates before all this blew up. I had my own quarters with my own music collection! Now I'm forced to listen to Crewman 5th Class Hedgehog's collection of ragtime records every day at precisely 2030 hours until I go mad. Come to think of it, who died and made me Crewman SIXTH Class? That's the third demotion since I signed up as a volunteer on this ship! It's a lower rank than the ship's junior-grade janitor! I even got my own personalized bucket and mop yesterday... which I suppose is better than what a 7th-classer gets.

Gotta go now. Computer's getting a little twitchy. I think he wants to go walkies.

R

The Evil Executive looked at his writers, who were cowering in fear.

"Well, this is just great. None of you knows what to do with this obsolesence? Fantastic..."

A writer in the back raised a trembling hand.

"Actually, sir, I think I have an idea how we could tie this storyline into the reality television craze."

The Evil Executive looked intrigued.

"Interesting..."

On the bridge of the Spidermobile, there is a strange disturbance. Wisps of smoke suddenly appear, drawing in towards the center of the bridge, until they coalesce into a humanoid form. With a ZAP!, this form changes into a tall, thin human, dressed in a white suit and tie. He has very pale skin and very black hair slicked straight back, and the final touch is his red sunglasses.

After his appearance, this man surveys the bridge.

"Where is Commander Milkshake?"

And then, the meeting having finished, the door to the conference room open and the bridge crew departs, Milkshake at the head of the group.

"Ah, Commander. There you are. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dnar'af, and I couldn't help but notice the somewhat... antiquated condition of your ship. Surely you realize that in this state you are leaving yourselves vulnerable to your many enemies. I can help you, if you wish, but there are some... conditions."

And what...conditions...would these be?

"Very simply, Commander, I want you to gather a group of ten of your crewmembers. This group will then engage in a series of challenges I have established, some mental, some physical. Each time you succeed in a challenge, I will upgrade one of your ship's systems. Each time you fail, I will select one of your crewmembers to join me on another... special project of mine. No, Commander, I cannot tell you what that is. But I can tell you that any crewmembers that wind up with me must follow my directives unquestioningly, or your ship will find itself very much the worse for wear. If you can get all your systems upgraded before the group is down to one person, the other crewmembers will be returned unharmed. However, if you fail in this, I will not return them until I am absolutely sure they can do no more for me, and I assure you that could be a very long time indeed, and that I could not assure their safety under those circumstances.

"Do weigh my offer, Commander. I should point out that there is a group of very angry O'kakians in the vicinity that seem to be unable to pinpoint you at the moment. If you decline, I'm certain I can find other helpers, but, after all, the LICC has a certain... reputation."

I think we should take the offer. We're a hardy bunch, are we not, Commander?

More like a Laurel & Hardy bunch.

Are you any relation to Lucifer S. Beelzebub?

if a couple of my Cyberarmors were allowed to return, I could equip Alex and I. Butrfli still has magic at her disposal...

Didn't you fight crime before you had any cyberarmor? Or am I thinking of a completely different Tacoman?

I can remember reading my ancestors' memoirs' Tacoman's Butlers: The Men Who Cleaned The Costume, that when you started out it was just you and a few 20th century gadgets in the fight against crime. And even into the 21st century you mostly fought crime by your wits, never overly relying on gadgets that could be destroyed or damaged.

But then that Tacoman disappeared in the 2030's. So it must have been another Tacoman altogether.

Your cyberarmor has turned into a bulky knight costume with a grappling-gun and a .45 pistol in its holsters.

Jackson looks over at the butler.
Good point, my friend. I guess I've gotten used to current technology.
Alex, let's go raid the armory to see what we can find. I'll head down to Rocket's lab to see what I can use.
Alex: From what I saw, the stuff in his lab has become...somewhat primitive... by our standards.
Jackson: I think I can manage. Let me get out of this suit first.
With a number of clangs, slight curses, and other assorted noises, Jackson removes the knight armor, and is left standing in a short sleeved shirt and shorts.
Ok, let's go.
With that, Jackson and Alex enter the now old style elevator, choose their floor, and decend.

In still darkness, Artsy breathes deep, trying not to panic. "Seeker!" She pounds a deliberate fist against the yeilding surface around her. There is still no response. No sound but her own breathing and the barest hint of another mind, present but unreachable. And no channel, no conduit, to the outside world at all. How much longer can they stay out here? If they are still in fact in space...? Artsy breathes out, pressing her hands against the softness beneath her, trying to focus again.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, powerful sending thrusts into Keiran's mind. The red organic ship twists in the grasp of his graviton docking latches.

WHERE IS SHE? Seeker sounds frantic, disoriented. SILENT ONE, WHERE IS SHE?

(Morgan is weaving his way through the dense debris field, towing Seeker slowly back to the Spidermobile. Suddenly, the sentient ship's 'voice' suddenly thunders through his mind.)

WHERE IS SHE? SILENT ONE, WHERE IS SHE?

"AAH!" Morgan gasps, putting one hand to his forehead. Seeker, in his anxious state of mind, puts no restraints on his sending, and the corresponding telepathic shock nearly causes Morgan to lose control of the shuttle. A large piece of discarded hull plating collides and bounces off the Mitsubishi before he can bring the helm about again, barely in time to keep a larger piece from hitting Seeker.)

SILENT ONE!

(This sending is even stronger, and Morgan can almost feel his ears ringing with the telepathic 'shout'. Without thinking to concentrate or prepare himself, he sends his thought right back at Seeker.)

Seeker, stop! I'm listening.

(There is 'silence' for but a second, and then Keiran gasps again, as Seeker establishes a link with his mind. He can feel the traveler's powerful conciousness so very close to his, and all Seeker's anxiety is transmitted through the connection. Keiran, fighting his own rising panic at hearing that Artsy is missing, attempts to calm Seeker. Because of the link nearly merging their two minds, he finds himself adopting Seeker's own cadence and way of 'speech'.)

I do not know where she has gone, long-traveled one. Once we return to the great metal voyager, we will be better able to find her. Do not fear.

I say we do it, Captain. What have we got to lose? There doesn't seem to be another way to reverse what's going on.

Nearby, at one of consoles, an alarm goes off. Rikard walks over and looks at the old-fashioned, 2 dimensional radar.

Proximity alert. Looks like a ship's approaching towing another. Ah, it's Keiran. He's back and he's got Seeker and Artsy with him.

Rikard grabs the now present headset and activates the radio comm.
Rikard to Morgan. Need any help out there?

"Fine, Dnar'af, I don't see that we really have any choice. Just give us a little time until we're sure we've retrieved all our crewmembers."

"You know this place, you know this," Artsy mutters to herself. "Light, you're still in the ship." Curled on her side, she has given up beating the 'floor' or 'wall' and simply stares into the dark, listening. If only there was light, just a bit...she would be able to pattern her confusion, make something out of it. Slowly she begins to rock, feeling and hearing a rhythm to this place. It's not like hers, but it is a pattern: broken and unsettled, but a pattern all the same. Something to hold on to. She could do this one in gels, though stone might work as well....

It's not much without actual medium to work in, but enough to keep the choking aloneness at bay.

~~~~~

Morgan's connection with Seeker remains solid, though the ship refuses to calm down. NOW, SILENT ONE! he demands. FIND HER-- the sending floods with a nauseous sense of discomfort.

Are you alright? Morgan asks. Were you hit?

NO. BEWILDERED. Then his wording starts to clear. YES, NOT BY FIRE, BY WRONGLY OPENED DOORWAY. HURT. YES.

Morgan hardly breathes. Could Artsy have been hurt too?

Seeker replies with the mental equivalent of a very rude noise. NOT THROUGH ME. OH...OW.

...through you?

(A glimmer of hope begins to take seed. Seeker senses it, but cannot read Morgan's thoughts, not entirely.)

WHAT? WHAT IS IT?

She never left you, did she?

(A pause.)

I NEVER STOPPED CARRYING HER. BUT SHE IS NOT HERE! I WOULD SENSE IF SHE WERE NEAR!

(Morgan acknowledges Rikard's com signal.)

"Shuttle Undesignate-1 to Spidermobile, we're fine, we just need to get inside."

(Seeker is set snugly into the floor of the Spidermobile's new docking bay. Early 26th century support craft had globular shapes, and the newly reconfigured bay cradle fits Seeker's shape rather well. Morgan pops open the hatch of his craft, waving off offers of help from a nearby bay officer, and makes his way as quickly as he can to the red traveler.)

Seeker? Seeker?

(As soon as they had docked, Seeker, perhaps out of anger, had broken the link, and now Morgan finds that his sending is basically inaudible again. He steps up, removing his gloves, and makes physical contact with Seeker again. He concentrates mightily.)

Seeker. Open your orifice. Seeker. Open your orifice.

(Seeker's anger is still present in his insouciant sending.)

CARRY YOU I CANNOT. WE DO NOT KNOW WHERE SHE IS.

Seeker, just open your d*#$ed orifice!

(Seeker does, and Morgan peers into the depths of the living spacecraft...)

So does this make Keiran a dentist or a proctologist?

Carol: Wow! So your family worked for Tacoman all those centuries ago & now you are too?

SBM: Yes, it's an old family curse.

Carol: Which family?

Duella: I'd guess both of them.

Dnar'af turns to Ensign First

"No."

He then looks back to Commander Milkshake.

"Very well, Commander. I shall return when you have selected your crewmembers. Until then..."

And with a ZAP! he was gone.

Pick me! Pick me!

(he finishes whittling a bit of wood, so it now resembles a club)

I'm ready for anything!

And as soon as Lt. Insane said that than a purple rhino in a pink tutu appeared, covered him with chocolate syrup, Martian chicken feathers, pinecones, whipped cream and a cherry and disappeared.

I was ready for that...

Now I'm going to have a sonic shower.

(exits)

to Lt PD Insane

Hey! I'm in here! Go away!

I knew the rift would start to cause dimensional madness sooner or later. Helm, whatever we have closest to impulse, engage it and head us away from that rift. Quietly, we don't want to draw attention.

The elevator doors open, and Jackson and Alex emerge. They both wear 22nd century body armor, helmets with enhanced listening and vision features, a utility belt, and a good pair of boots. They seem to be carrying a number of weapons, including Vantexian multi-purpose knives.
Jackson: It's not quite as advanced as my cybersuit, but it will do for know. I found a cybertec catalog lifting a very large book, but unfortunatly, we can't make interdimensional calls... In fact, we can't even call the other side of the galaxy at the moment.
Alex: In any case, we are ready for the mission if picked.

I thought the rift was sealed when the Chameleonmobile entered it?

Anyway there is one piece of equipment on the ship which was not affected by the obsolescence 'ray'.

(pause)

Unfortunately it's the ship's weirdness magnet.

(And in one of those weird quirks of coincidence the First sisters simultaneously get sick, becoming very hot, then very cold, then breaking out in purple polka dots. They go to sickbay where they are diagnosed with authorius jurydutyitis and are confined to sickbay for the duration.)

In response to Ensign First's comment about the weirdness magnet

Ha ha ha!
Ho ho ho!

Pulls out a six shooter, formerly a phaser, aims for the laugh track and fires.

Light!

Overpowering, intrusive, blinding through her closed eyelids. Breaking into the patterns she has so carefully attended to--

But light, nonetheless. Artsy, eyes still closed, rolls to her hands and knees, feeling her way into the light. Something rough grabs her, pulling her forward...something more familiar than the soft dark she had been listening to, but uncomfortable, unsettled, intrusive.... Maybe she can fix it.

The hands shove her away, a shock worse than the light; the floor flies up to slap her, jarring her eyes open.

~~~~~

Morgan nearly shouts aloud in his relief. Seeker, she is here! Artsy crawls towards the mouth of Seeker's orifice, and Morgan reaches out to guide her. She moves with the clumsy groping of a sleepwalker, eyes tightly shut, and does not respond to his hands or his voice.

"Artsy, are you all right?" The question is echoed on the telepathic level by Seeker, muted by thorough CONFUSION.

HOW IS SHE HERE AND I NOT KNOW IT? is the ship's pained question.

But Artsy does not appear to hear this either. Standing beside Seeker, the artist reaches up to touch Morgan's face, eyes still closed in what looks to him like serious concentration.

It takes him a moment to feel his hair rearranging, smoothing unnaturally flat, and to see his skin changing color. The smooth reddish tint is eerily like Seeker himself.

Involuntarily, he pushes her away, breaking the contact. Artsy stumbles and falls heavily to the deck. Her eyes snap open with the shock of the fall, and they are neutral white like her still-short hair. It is a long moment before they focus on Morgan, and the white shades into blue-green consternation. "What...?" she mouths, silently. And then: "Sorry. I...I'm sorry, Keiran."

(Morgan kneels right down next to Artsy.)

"No, I'm...are you okay?" he says, changing thought in mid-sentence. He takes her hands to help her to her feet, halfway noticing that his own are fading to their normal color. She seems to be mostly alright, but what disturbs him most is her right hand, where she used to wear her crystal ring, is ice-cold and shaking, perhaps uncontrollably.

A familiar voice hails the Spidership.

"Equalizer to Spidership III. Can you read? I've found the Siliconian ship that hijacked two of your crewmates. It's under Level 1 quarantine as I said in an earlier comminque. Andafi forces have taken the Anorexian homeworld but are meeting hevay resistance. My ship is needed and can no longer stand guard over the ship carrying Flight Commander Lopez and Ensign Plevyak. Can you assist?"

"This is the Captain. All senior staff members report to the bridge at this time. All senior staff members report to the bridge."

When all the senior staff members assembled on the bridge, Dnar'af promptly appeared.

"Hello, Commander. I see you've selected your crewmembers. I trust you're certain of your selections? Once your team leaves here, you will not be able to make substitutions. No? Very well..."

With a great ZAP!, Keiran, Artsy, Milkshake, Rikard, Insane, Enesku, Jadlad, Jackson, Alex, and Butrfli all dissapeared.

The team reformed in a forest clearing, with Dnar'af following shortly thereafter.

"This is your first task. Succeed, and your ship will regain its long-range sensors. Fail, and one of you comes with me. Simply put, I want you to retrieve a book for me. This book is located in the library of a nearby castle. You must infiltrate the castle, find the book, and return here without raising suspicion. And I must stress, no alarm can be raised about your whereabouts. The people here are somewhat unused to the type of superheroics you typically employ and will be quick to sound the alarm if they spot something... out of the ordinary. Any questions?"

Lt. (JG) Thompson responds to Kiehart's call.

Good to hear Mr. Kiehart. The senior staff has been transported away by a mysterious being named Dnaraf but I'm pretty sure the rest of us can keep watch over this ship, despite some recent technology problems we're having.

Though I do have one question, why did the Andafi attack the Anorexians?

I wish Cid were still around...

Delgado looks around after the group's dissapearance.

"We'll have to make do until they get back. Lieutenant, ask the Equalizer what sort of assistance they require. I don't know if we can help, but we can certainly try."

Yes. Several. Are the inhabitants of the castle human? What time period are we dealing with, here? And what place? Could this have consequences on the timeline?

"No, Commander, there will be no temporal repercussions from your actions here. You haven't traveled into the past, rather you are in the same time frame as your ship. And the inhabitants are human-like in appearance, although I wouldn't let them see your feet, or get a good look at your insides for that matter. Anything else?"

"Well Thompson, that's pretty simple. The 3 Modelizer races had a pact where if one declared war all three did. The Airheadians, being who they are, badly misinterpreted the message of the LICC's victory over them. We're not sure exactly what was said but it was apparently worded in a way that made the Airheads believe they'd won, and they decided to atack their nearest neighbor. The Andafi. Naturally we made short work of the Airheadian fleet. The Anoerxian homeworld is the smallest and otuermost of the Modelizer planets, so we're goign to secure that planet first, then bypass Airheadia to go after the Siliconians. I don't want to leave Grant and Brad exposed since they don't know how to work the Siliconian ship yet. If the whole senior staff is gone I suggest just replacing the Equalizer in enforicng the Level 1 quarantine. HoloDoc can help with that better than my physicians can. Kiehart out."

The bluebikini shakes her two toys.

Frell!

I hate this situation! That's worse than in one of my at least three dark pasts.

AOL ME!

Kiehart, if you want to fool the Siliconians then you should program your holocommunicator to...

Pauses. A few embarassing seconds pass until the Furby is being shaken again.

I already feel like a Vodka-Martini. ...show you as an ancient fashion designer named Karl Lagerfeld. I know for sure that they consider him a god and...

Again.

...you could talk them into a quick surrender. Just mention Paris, Chanel and hoot cowtewre.

Hm, the main viewer has become a black&white silent movie screen. But I wonder who plays the piano and writes the cards?

In the forest clearing, Artsy insists quietly to Morgan that she is fine. But she doesn't shrug off the concerned arm around her shoulder...and though she is listening to the briefing, her gaze is distant and she rubs her hands as if they are cold.

"And the inhabitants are human-like in appearance, although I wouldn't let them see your feet, or get a good look at your insides for that matter. Anything else?"

"Uh oh." Artsy looks down at her bare feet. "Guess I'll have to find some shoes."

Don't shoot me, I'm just the piano player!

A woman in a crown, with hearts all over her uniform, answers the Furby

I write the cards.

With verses that knock 'em dead.

But if you don't buy 'em,

Then OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!

*to Artsy* Are you human, anyway? You're from another dimension, are you from that dimension's Earth?

(Morgan idly pulls out an object of unknown purpose from one of his silky, seemingly empty pockets, now stiched into the pilot's jacket he wears.)

And how will we know this book? What does it look like?

"I'm glad you asked. Behold..."

Above the heroes' heads appeared the image of a thick book, perhaps 1000 pages in width. It was bound in a brownish gray material that showed signs of wear and age. The pages, however, were lined with a brilliant blue dye, giving the book a somewhat striking appearance.

"The Rune of Alnathea," Dnar'af explained. "A rather ancient text, though not as fragile as it may appear. There are no markings on the exterior of the book, so you will have to use alternate means of identification. You will find that when the book is open, the blue around the edges turns to gold. It is the only volume in the library with this capability, so in that sense, it will be easy to locate."

Dnar'af then turns his gaze to Keiran.

"And... I hope you're not going to try anything foolish with that."

What do the people around here look like? If I can see that, I can whip up a spell so that we look like them, thus not arousing suspision...
I mean, look at us...I have wings, Artsy can change colors, Alex and Jackson have a strange mixture of stuff, Enesku's still in a bikini... I think we might attract some attention in our current state.
I suppose I can use an invisibility spell if necessary...

You know, I just thought of something...
Dnar'af, what do you know about local customs and things like that? If we want to pass as locals, we have to know local things...

Right, naturally.
Turns to Delgado.
Well, sir, looks like you're in command and now we have a quarantined ship to look after. Should we send one of the Holodocs over?

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure we can send him, now that he's been rendered obsolete like everything else around here. I'm not sure we're the best pick to be reinforcing a quarantine, but... Get the grapplers on-line and tow the ship into position. Someone find out how much duct tape and plastic sheeting we have."

The Rune of Alnathea vanishes, replaced by a vision of two humanoid figures.

"Your typical inhabitants," Dnar'af narrates. "Note the many layers of clothing, good for concealing one's true identity. Take a good look, superheroes. Unfortunately, I don't really have the time to give you a crash course in local culture. You are going to be able to communicate with anyone you come across, but you might want to limit your contact somewhat. Now, then, you have one last question. Use it wisely.

Looks around at his companions.

Anybody? Besides me that is?

Ok... here we go...
\i[Butrfli begins chanting, and soon the group is clad in clothes similar to what Dnar'af showed them. The spell also makes her wings disappear, Artsy's colors to stablize, and other small details.}
I used a disguise spell for us. It should work for the entire mission.
As for knowing local customs and things, I can do a quick mind reading on the first local we come across. Done right, it should show me what things are like around here.

If we really want to remain undetected, it would be a good idea not to encounter a local at all. Captain, I volunteer to act as an advance scout. I've had some experience with things like these. Plus, it might be a good idea not to have everyone crashing around and alerting everybody within miles of the objective.

(Morgan gives Artsy a loving squeeze, then melts off into the woods before anyone can even ask Dnar'af the last question.)

And, so he just leaves...

"And so will I. I hope you have the Rune the next time we meet."

And with a ZAP! he is gone.

Gee, boss, do ya think they're gonna do it? Huh? Huh? Do ya? Do ya?

(on a green monitor a bitmapped picture of Holodoc's face comes on the screen)

Holo... err, BitmapDoc: Attention. Ensign First has slipped out of Sickbay. She is not contagious, but may be suffering the side effects of the medication given her and may be suffering from delusions of granduer and/or hallucinations and she should be gotten back to Sickbay before she injures or embarrasses herself.

(at that moment Ensign First enters the Bridge wearing a hospital gown with a hand drawn O on the front and a cape made out of a Sickbay bedsheet.)

I am Ms. Obvious! Supergenius. Here to tell you all what you're doing wrong because I'm smarterererer... er than the rest of youse.

(she then holds out her 'cape' and runs around the bridge)

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

BitmapDoc: Obviously I'm too late.

Let's keep a handle on this. All right, folks, let's move out, but quietly.

The team approaches the castle in the distance.

Greeeeeetings!

I am the Gatekeeper!

Before you enter the castle near, you must answer three questions here!

The former blueshirt sighs and throws alt-Furby at Ms.Obvious.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

Hit!

A pile of stone knives and bearskins appears on the bridge. There's a note attached. A science blueshirt reads it.

Maybe these will help you in creating some mnemonic circuits!

What three questions?

The three he's going to ask you, of course. Duh!

(Alt-Furby hits her on the head)

Ow!

*Thud!*

(some blueshirts carry the unconscious ensign to Sickbay)

Very well... I shall ask you the first question! There may be no consulting. Only one of you may answer and the number of people answering shall be one. There shall not be two, nor four. Three and five are right out.

Now, here is the first question!

What is the opposite of Denise and Defeat?

Hmm.. so if this is the Gatekeeper, where is the Keymaster? And do we have to worry about giant marshmellow sailors attacking us?

Ha! WRONG! Now go away, or I shall taunt you again!

What? What?!? WHAT?!?!?

The Gatekeeper looks somewhat alarmed to hear a screeching voice come piercing out of the darkness. The voice is soon followed by what appears to be a slightly elderly female form that proceeds to berate the Gatekeeper somewhat harshly.

What are you doing out here? You promised you'd never try this again! Oh, I have a right mind to-

Gatekeeper: But... but...

NO "BUTS"! You're coming straight home this instant! DO YOU HEAR ME?

The Gatekeeper turned meekly and shuffled off in the direction that the woman had approached from.

Awfully sorry about that. He's gone a bit soft in the head, it seems... likes to pretend he gaurds the gate to the castle... a bit sad, if you ask me. But... I'll let you on your way.

She, too, leaves, and our heroes are once again left alone on the outskirts of the village that preceedes the castle enterance.

I knew what the opposite of Denise and Defeat was!

What was it? Taefed and Esined?

Denephew and Dehands?

crickets (or the planet's equivalent) chirp.

Rikard would have been closest. It was really De-elbows and dehands.

Ha! I knew that!

The elevator opens, Adon tips the operator, and steps out onto the bridge.

He looks around with a confused and amused look on his face.

You guys do some remodeling while I was away?

Actually, Enesku, Ensign First & Shadow Senshi did some Supermodeling.

(his head bursts into flames at the memory.)

A seedy, looking native makes his way toward the heroes

Psst! Would you like to buy a drawbridge? I can let you have it cheap. Grants you access to the castle & everything.

Delgado addresses Adon

"Oh! Well, actually sir, following the battle with Taconator, the ship was hit by a massive obsolesence wave which has transformed the ship, the results of which you see here. But then this guy named Dnar'af showed up and said he'd help us restore everything but that we'd have to send ten of our officers with him so that they could engage in a series of 'challenges' to get the ship's systems back. So that's where most everybody is right now, and we've got to deal with a ship with two officers on it who were abducted by the Supermodels and have now escaped, but are under a Level-1 quarantine. And... let's see... I don't think I forgot anything... No, I think that's it."

So when do we get to vote people off of the quest?

No, no! I've got it! Jadlad is the Mole!

Milkshake glances at the local

Right, and I suppose you've got the Brooklyn Bridge to sell us, too.

If she wants the one million credits, I think Enesku should go on a date with...

He's rudely interrupted by his buddy who hits him.

{Butrfli glances at the local and does a brief mind scan on him. After a while, her hand goes up to her head and she groans a little. Concerned, Jackson and Milkshake go up to her.}
I think I have the general idea of morals, customs, and laws. Maybe we can go to the local police so I can really get to know them...
As for this guy, I wouldn't trust him at all.

I don't think so, Butrfli. The word here is inconspicuous. We really should get away from the town.

Milkshake gestures toward a clutch of men in official-looking garments with metal-tipped clubs at their sides.

The cops. Let's scatter, back toward the forest, and circle around under cover of the trees. We'll try to make an entrance on the other side of the castle, there doesn't seem to be any buildings there. Let's go. In...conspicuous.

Meanwhile, in a secret location...

A large group of people sat in a dimly lit room around a huge conference table. They all wore similar grey uniforms, execpt for the young woman sitting at the end of the table. She was dressed as a scientist who had just come out of her lab. All eyes in the room were on her.

The woman at the head of the table, General Dulce Adari, spoke up first.

General Adari: "We would like to hear of your findings, Dr Won."

Dr. Won, the young woman at the end of the table stood up. At the same time, the wall behind her lit up as a number of different viewscreens activated, each showing a different scene.

Dr. Won: "As you know, I have been working on Project Chulip, which is to create an artifical diminsional gateway."

The screens behind Dr. Won showed several different views of a massive crystaline structure opening up, much like a flower, and a swirling vortex of energy appear in the center.

Dr Won: "So far, we have met with limited success. Most of our gateways are very unstable. We have successfully sent machines through the rift, but have failed at live experiments. However, this is not the most important news that I bring.

My experiments have shown that the energy generated by the gateway's structure is very similar to the subject's energy signature, as well as the signatures of those like him that we have encountered. It is my theory that they could be used to advance Project W. But I would like to confirm this by examining the subject again."

There was hushed whispering around the table for a few moments. Then Commander Gendo Lorenz, who sat near the head of the table, spoke up.

Commander Lorenz: "You are aware of the difficulty in such a request. I assume that you have though of how to accomplish this particular goal."

Dr Won: "Yes sir, I have."

The screens changed yet again. They showed a four people, obviously part of a group. There was a man in a blue suit with a yellow shirt. He had brown eyes and his hair was almost an afro. Next to him, was a taller, balding man who had a scar on the right side of his face. His left arm was a prostetic device. The third person was a woman with dark hair. She was barely wearing a very skimpy yellow outfit. The fourth person was a boy with wild, red hair, who was wearing some sort of goggles.

Commander Lorenz: "Absolutely not! These characters look like they belong in a one thousand year old anime. I sincerely hope that you have someone else in mind for this task."

The screen changed again, and the people seated around the table whispered among themselves again. Finally, Commander Lorenz spoke up.

Commander Lorenz: "We approve. Please rest assured, Doctor, that we will contact this person and request that he undertake this assignment."

Vice Admiral Tom Ahomee, who sat across the table from Commander Lorenz turned towards Dr Won.

Vice Admiral Ahomee: "The rest of the meeting does not concern you, but thank you for the information."

The people and the conference table vanished, and the lights came up in the room. Instead of a vast conference room, Dr Won was sitting behind a tiny desk in a room barely large enough to hold both her and the desk. The walls were all painted a dull grey color, as was the desk itself. The only color in the room was the doctor herself, and the chair she was sitting it. She collapsed into the chair and let out a sigh of relief.

As the group heads out of town, a nearby sign attracts Rikard's attention.

Hey Cap, look at this. According to the translator it says that there's a Festival for the Learned in town this over the next few days. Apparently, they've brought a lot of old and rare texts with them and a few are on display, others are available to be looked through. You think our book is there?

How did Rikard learn to read the local language?

Gotta love that 31st century translator tech.

That certainly is a possibilty, Josh. Perhaps we can split into two groups... one to look around the Festival, and one to infiltrate the castle.

To The Answer... Person:

They don't have 31st century translator tech. Their tech is a mix from medieval to early 23rd-24th century tech.

Okay, then gotta love that 26th century tech? (We didn't list every single piece of equipment now did we?)

This stuff should go in the discussion board or the Nitpicker's Guide to LICC