LAST TIME ON LICC...

Fakeo Milkshake! Gratuitious Midicide! Flying things! Lots of talking! No going anywhere! Gratuitous Soldiers! Scared Market People! Gratuitous Strange Man!

zzz...

Oblivious to all the goings-on in the street, the soldiers bring Keiran inside the magistrate's building. After various wanderings through the halls, they arrive at a doorway marked "Magistrate Senzen." Kerian can't read it, but, really, that's what it says. Really.

"Magistrate!" One soldier calls out, as they enter.

"Ah, good, bring him."

The magistrate's back is to Keiran when he first sees her, but she soon turns around, revealing a rather young-looking woman- perhaps early thirties by human standards. She does look remarkably human, although she sports incredibly blue hair that has been pulled back into a bun and pair of yellow-ish green eyes.

"What is your name, prisoner?" She asks, looking at something in a book and not at Keiran. Kerian responds.

"Very well, and what do you have to say about your incident?"

"Merely that is is true that I have tampered with time, using this world as a point of origin. However, it was done to protect hu...er, sentient life. It was done to prevent paradox, and it is highly unlikely any change has been done to this world. Your sensors should be able to detect that."

The team, Milkshake at the lead, barges into Dnar'af's offices.

I hope you're ready to get us out of here, Dnar'af.

Dnar'af looks up from the Rune. "Of course I am, Commander, although I feel we should wait for the rest of your comrades to arrive, don't you? In the meantime, I wonder if you know anything about the person who was in here a few minutes ago masquerading as you."

At the magistrates, Spenzen listens to Keiran while shuffling some papers on her desk.

"Unfortunately, our monitors only registered a fluxtuation. So, you were attempting to prevent a paradox, you say? That's not very much to go on- you can give me a more in-depth explanation, I hope?

Drawing in breath, Morgan gives a concise and not entirely inaccurate description of the time-jump, leaving out certain details such as the existence of the League and the Ring of Craft.

"An interesting tale, if you don't mind my saying so. I don't believe we have any legal precedents for people jumping back to prevent murders in the way you've described. We will, of course, need some way of corroborating your tale. But you should know that no matter how noble you felt you were being in this act, many of my fellow magistrates take a dim view of temporal tampering, and they will not hesitate to rule against you.

"Now, I want you to think hard... What evidence can you produce that would support your claim?"

"Ooh, my head," Rikard moans as he wakes. His head is pounding. He looks around to see that he is in a small, dark room, leaning against a wall. The room is filled with boxes and Rikard can see a door on the far side, the light of the planet's star(s) coming through the cracks. Next to him is Lt. Insane. Rikard tries to wake him.

"Hey, Pete, wake up." Insane slowly opens his eyes.

"Hey, top o' the mornin'. Are you alright?"

Morgan nods politely to Magistrate Spenzen, meanwhile focusing his willpower, a pattern of mystical energy forming in his mind. A sideways glance at the wall lamp besides him, and the power is loosed.

"May I ask what you have to present?" asks Spenzen. She cannot say more, for it is then that the electric wall lamp begins billowing acrid, grey smoke...

So just what is our next assignment? Searching for the Sacred cups of the Trois? Dragon hunting? A jaunt through the Harry Potter universe?

Dnar'af silently ponders the group's recalcitrance to discuss Milkshake's doppleganger before answering Jackson.

"Your next test will one that tests your strength and guile. Unfortunately for you, it does not have a sarcasm component. And lest I forget, it will be a test not of you as a group, but of each of you separately."

In the magistrate's, Spenzen cuts her speech off with a gulp and passes out almost immediately. The guards flanking Keiran follow suit closely thereafter, but the one on Keiran's right falls towards Keiran, his heavy shield on line to smash Keiran's head...

We've faced similar challenges in the past. Steve, remember the time Evil, myself, and Butrfli, I think, were challenged to get a dagger without major damage to a city full of tiny monsters? I think we can do this test.
As for the duplicate Milkshake, I have no idea who it could have been...

"Agh.."

Morgan pulls himself up from one knee with a grunt of pain. The magistrate and guards all seem to be unconcsious, so with a burst of concentration that seems a good deal more difficult, he stops the smoke pouring from the light fixture. He opens a window to make his escape, and cautiously touches a finger to his pained forehead, his hand coming away bloody.

"Charming. Well, I'll be seeing you folks." he mutters, and out the window he goes.

That was a fairly strange setup, Jackson. This might be quite different.

Milkshake flicks a lint ball off of Dnar'af's desk.

So...this new job, is it contingent on all of us succeeding? A majority of us?

"I was looking for a two-thirds figure, myself, Commander. With the ten of you, that makes six of you who need to succeed. And speaking of the ten of you, we're still a few short."

Rikard? So we weren't shot! It must have all been a dream!

(Rikard looks a little guilty)

Rikard: Actually, we have been captured...

What? By the Space Monkeys of Aldor IV? Quick, we need to synthesise more monkey-spray!

Rikard: What are you talking about? Space Monkeys?

(Insane pauses, and reflects)

Then it *was* all a dream!

So... where are we anyway?

A heavy-set man with a grease-spotted apron looks out from a disguised doorway.

You're in the alley behind MY cafe, and you can't stay, the refuse collectors are coming by and they might not accept you. Next time you should be careful around these streets.

He proceeds to toss a bucket of kitchen leavings into a larger receptacle, muttering to himself.

These off-worlders, not right in the head.

Milkshake flips on his radio

Josh, Pete, come in. Number One, respond.

Then there is a slight rattle in the office as Morgan climbs in through the venetian blinds covering Dnar'af's window, battered as we last saw him. For some reason, he's carrying a small shopping bag.

"Sorry everyone, saw something and just couldn't resist it."

"Well, now I'm certainly glad I kept that window," Dnar'af notes dryly. "Another brawl, I take it? Goodness. You might want to see about that cut on your forehead."

Morgan shrugs.

"Nothing a little healing magic won't fix. Somehow, at least in my personal opinion, a piece of starship equipment doesn't seem worth the particulars in your petty little jobs."

You got away from the local cops, I'm guessing. Where's Rikard and Insane?

"An interesting attitude, especially when it wasn't my task that got you arrested in the first place. As for healing magic," Dnar'af performs a chant and the cut on Keiran's forehead starts to heal.

"Thanks ever so." Morgan draws a handkerchief from a pocket and applies it to his forehead. "As for Rikard and Insane, Captain, I have no idea. They were trailing me up to the judicial building, but when I got inside I lost them. I did a quick sweep of the neighborhood once I got out of there, but no trace."

Shoot. They should still be watching the juidicial building, then, or nearby. I'm getting no response on the radio.

This is why I really like having a ship in orbit. Alright. I'm out to look for them, the rest of you folks keep Mr. Dnar'af company here. I'll be in touch.

Milkshake departs. Through the door.

Delgado looks around, as no one has responded to his query.

"No, seriously. Didn't anyone else hear a voice saying 'Don't attack' or something like that?" He walks to the sensor station.

"What's this about a small object just off our bow?"

The object in question is actually in the bridge, resting on the floor between two consoles. It broadcasts over the intercom again.

I am here, Lieutenant Johansen Delgado.

"Gah!" Delgado recoveres and locates the sphere.

"So... who are you, exactly?"

I have a question: Besides restoring our ship, piece by piece, what do you get out of our little missions?
Just then in the office, an old fashioned televison appears and turns itself on.
Televison:...and in other news, we have reports of a green man in outlandish clothing roaming around town tickling people, removing their pants, and appearently giving them...wedgies?
As the reporter speaks, the strange green man in the outlandish clothing appears behind the reporter, tickles him, and gives him wedgie that goes over his head. Just as mysteriously, the television quietly turns itself off again and disappears as strangly as it appeared.
Butrfli: That was strange... You wern't using your magic at the moment, were you, Dnar'af? I certainly wasn't...

Rikard, still a little groggy, leads Insane out of the alley.

"From what I can tell, we were attacked and knocked out by that group that was following us. They said they were Jedi hunters. I don't think I've ever heard of those. Anyway, apparently they didn't want to kill us. They just knocked us unconscious, stole our stuff, and left us in that alley. I don't have my gun, my radio, or any of the money we used to buy the stuff at the market. But at least I still have my flashlight. I guess we should head to that judicial builing to see if Kei-"

"You two, freeze!!" Rikard and Insane look to their right to see two of the soldiers that closed down the marketplace approaching. "Don't move."

"I'm getting tired of this," Rikard says while turning to PD,"Insane?"
"Yeah?"
"Run."
Both sprint back into the alley, toward the disguised back door of Gimbo's restaurant.
"Stop or we will open fire!" The soldiers say. But Rikard and Insane keep going. The soldiers fire but miss as the two LICC race through the restaurant's kitchen, despite Gimbo's protests. They exit into the eating area and finally out the front door. The soldiers continue to chase. Rikard and Insane run down the sidewalk.
"I've got an idea!" Rikard yells and turns down another alleyway. Insane follows. Seconds later, the soldiers enter the alley. It appears to be deserted. They cautiously enter, looking upward at the windows and stairways, around the dumpsters, around the piles of junk and trash, searching. Suddenly, both Rikard and Insane emerge from separate trash piles behind the soldiers. Taken by surprise, they easily subdue the soldiers.
"Great plan," Insane says a little sarcastically.
"Hey, we may smell bad, but it worked. It's not like I had a lot of time," Rikard says,"Let's hide them and take their weapons before they wake up or any of their friends arrive."
The two heroes work quickly, putting the unconscious soldiers out of sight and taking their supplies.
"Okay, let's get out of here. We'll make our way back to Dnar'af's place. We'll have to do it quietly. We don't want to be picked up by any more patrols."
With that, Rikard and Insane head out, stealthily heading back to D'nar'af's office.

Dnar'af looks at the spot in the room where the television recently disapparated.

"That wasn't my magic, either. I've never seen anything like that before." He returns his attention to Jackson. "An excellent question. What I am ultimately hoping to gain? Let's just say that you're helping me complete a quest that has literally consumed my life. If you can succeed, you will bring me peace beyond which I have never been able to dream... and at the same time deliver a final measure of spite to my enemies."

The metallic sphereoid hums a bit.

I am Colanator. Now, by my computations, this ship will be recieving a deep-squirt subspace transmission from Earth's Outer Oort Relay in approximately 44 seconds. I urge you not to leap to judgement once you have recieved the message. Its contents are not entirely accurate, and no harm has been done to Earth's inhabitants. I will let you recieve the message before I elaborate more fully.

"Colanator? That's all well and good, but first off, I don't even know if this ship can receive such a transmission in the state we're in now. And I can't say I'm all too pleased with your just turning up here, either. What are you, anyway?"

Technically, this sphere is a mini-processor core and memory unit compressed with short-range subspace tranceiver, warp-core unit and an experimental module only recently developed, a semi-dimensional drive that creates stable spatial wormholes. Surrounding these elements is a sphere of recessed fusium providing power and finally a shell of neutronium to protect the inner workings.

And I do have a recorded copy of the transmission, which was sent approximately 45 minutes before my hastily-arranged departure from Earth.

"Very impressive. Well, if this transmission is so important, let's see it, then. You want I should have someone set you somewhere?"

I am adaquately placed here.

The viewscreen/monitor fuzzes to life, displaying a simple still frame of the Great Seal of the Earth System Government, and then a tension-filled voice crackles over the intercom.

"USS Spidermobile...USS Spidermobile...this is a priority one transmission, Terran System Navy. Admiral Vorelli speaking. Commander Milkshake, 2 days ago, the Gagarin Subspace Telescope registered a massive spatial rift in the Shannon sector, and then several hours ago, recorded blip data that we believe to be your ship. If you have survived, well done. You are to return to Earth immediately, we have a situation of distressing importance."

Here the message pauses.

"I'm not going to mince words, Commander. This is the situation. Your engineering control program "Colanator" was uploaded to the OmniNet thirteen days ago in order to test its capabilities. Within literally minutes it had migrated to the most central control nodes in New Atlantis. In 4 hours, it had propagated an emulation of its command functions within literally, every Net-connected server on this planet. Colanator now has command and security access to every financial, scientific, administrative and public database in the Terran system. From the first moments, we realized our mistake and moved to block the spreading of the program, but somehow it evaded our deletion efforts. The populace is in a state of near terror.

What's worse, this morning the program effectively took control of the last remaining holdout, the entire military network. Colanator possesses the capability to wipe the civilian populace from the face of this planet. Now, I must stress the program has taken no overt actions, yet, but he has already destabilized most currency and commodities markets and reorganized most governmental systems down to the municipal level. Commander, we must ask you to come and reason with the Colanator program as his creator. We have no defense besides setting up complete stand-alone servers, which to replace the entire OmniNet would take by our guesses several decades.

We are sending this message from a protected subnet, but I do not know how long Colanator will be unaware of our efforts. Please, return to Terra with all due speed. This transmission ends, now."

The sphere is silent.

Delgado chews on the information for a moment.

"Now I see why you were so anxious not to have anyone jump to conclusions. But I'm not sure that I can't do that. You have all of Earth under your control? That doesn't sit well with me. Anything you want to add, here?"

I do, or rather, the master program does. I am simply a copy of my command and personality functions, the master program is still in control of the Terran OmniNet. I was sent to reveal the entire truth to Commander Milkshake and ask him not to return to terminate the master program.

"Well, that brings up a problem. Commander Milkshake's not here, and no one really knows when he'll be back. Unless Commander Adon returns from wherever he's gotten off to, I'm in command here. Sorry if that's a problem."

It shouldn't be. The ship is in a decidedly different condition than when I was downloaded from the core. What has transpired?

"As a result of our last battle with Taconator, the ship was hit by an obsolesence wave that transformed most of our technology into older and more primitive contraptions. We've got an agreement with some sort of super-being named Dnar'af where he will provide upgrades for us if some of the crew runs errands for him. That's where most everyone is at the moment."

I see. I may be able to help. With your permission, I will reload myself into the computer core and attempt to expediate repairs.

"Right, and take over the ship once you're done? Not so fast."

If I had wanted to control the ship, I would have done so immediately upon beaming aboard. I by no means wish to threaten, but I don't believe you could have prevented me.

And then, the door to Dnar'af's office swings open, and Rikard and Insane, closely followed by Milkshake, return.

All right, we're all here, mostly in one piece.

"That may be, but if what's happening on Earth is any indication, as soon as you finished repairs, we'd be at your mercy. I'm not prepared to put the ship in that position without knowing a little more about what's going on."

Very well.

Dnar'af closes the Rune with a thump.

"Excellent. Why don't we proceed, then? Unless there are any objections?" There are none. Dnar'af stands and adresses the group.

"As I said before, this is going to be an individual test. You will be placed at specific enterances to a large maze, which you will have to make your way through. There will be hints on how to complete the maze, of course, but there will also be danger inside, in the form of various beasts or traps. Nothing too dangerous, but enough to get your blood pumping, surely. I should add that attempting to fly over the maze or going through the walls at any point will result in disqualification. If 6 of you make it through the maze, I will upgrade your ship's medical systems."

(Insane and Rikard run into Dnar'af's office)

Sorry... we're late. We were shot by these guys and dumped in an alleyway. No idea what happened, but we don't seem to have been affected too badly by it.

"And how does this fit into your plan to spite your enemies? These last two missions have been for your personal gain."

"By judging your reactions to the various elements of the maze, I can see what missions you might be better suited for in the long run. And certainly, the opportunity to study a bit more won't hurt."

Let's just do it.

"Is everyone ready... Then..." ZAP! Dnar'af teleports the group out of his office.

Just like Dnar'af said, our heroes materialize at different enterances to a giant maze. None of them can see any of the other enterances from where they stand, and thus are totally alone. They can see that the maze has been built inside a great cavern, and that the walls stretch up over twenty feet in some places. At their feet, carved into rock, is the inscription "Find your way to the center."

With that, the heroes start to go inside... all except Milkshake, who hasn't gone anywhere. He's still in Dnar'af's office, with Dnar'af.

"Commander, I was wondering if we could have a chat."

Well...fine. What about?

"Well, your group. Would you, by your own definition, describe your people as a group of heroes?"

Let me see here. Hero, noun. An illustrious warrior, one who shows great courage. Group, noun. A number of individuals assembled together or having some unifying relationship.

Yeah, I'd say so.

"Very well, Commander. Now, after you completed the first task, you told me that you didn't want your group committing any more crimes, which I was happy to acquiesce to. Is this because you thought such activities went against your heroic nature?"

If you want a flip answer, I'd say our adoring public only likes their heroes going bad when under the control of some alien force or mind-controlling villain.

If you want a real answer, I think such activities go against our ethical nature.

"Then how do you explain someone like Mr. Morgan? He doesn't seem to have any qualms about the rule of law, unless it's because he has to break another law to cover up an older infraction. It looks to me like this presumption of ethics is something you only take on when it's convenient."

You judge an entire group by the actions of one man?

Hold on, I'm not distancing myself from Morgan here. All right, you say he covered up an older infraction. Hardly. If he suceeded in his time-jump, and I'm pretty sure he did because I still remember both outcomes, he prevented committing a much greater crime, murder. A murder, I might add, which was mitigated somewhat because he acted in proxy-defense.

And his theft of the ring, yes, I'd say that was wrong. But it's the old stolen medicine quandary, isn't it? Ethics aren't exactly stone rules. His moral code allowed him to steal the ring to help Artsy, possibly save her life. I'm not sure I wouldn't do the same, and Morgan, despite his looks, is a very old and it seems, wise person. I respect his judgement, and his action didn't jibe too hard with what I expect of this team.

"You're forgetting a few key elements, Commander. Yes, you can justify his time-jump as much as you'd like, but you can't that he cared much about the results of his actions. After the jump, he committed still more crimes in order to escape the consqeunces of his temporal violation, just like he made the jump in order to escape the consequences of the original crime, the murder of Nikaren. I don't much care about the ring, but remember that Morgan drove his lightsaber into Nikaren without much thought. He didn't have to do that, but he did. And rather than accept the consequences, he engaged in another series of crimes. How do you reconsile that?"

Who would hold him accountable for the death of Nikaren, Dnar'af? Some all-seeing intergalactic court? I wouldn't. He acted to protect Artsy.
And now that he's changed time, I don't see how in any way he's still accountable for Nikaren's death.

Now. Time-jumping is apparently illegal on this world. We didn't know this, and yes, ignorance is not an excuse. And he apparently fled to avoid prosecution, since he came back. We're not citizens of this world. We didn't ask to come here. If we had our say, we wouldn't even have come here knowing what the statutes were.

Now, this doesn't absolve Keiran, I suppose, but his recent actions have fallen in a very grey area. Murder and theft for profit, YOURS in the case of the Rune, those I don't condone. The rest I can live with. It's an imperfect universe, and what sentients decide themselves is right or wrong is all we can live by.

"Obviously, since Nikaren is still alive, it would be difficult to prosecute Mr. Morgan for his murder. But you can still remember it, can't you? So can I. So can he. And you're right, his actions came in the defense of his comrade, which is understandable, and in many eyes noble.

"But now you've gone from a position of absolute vehemence against committing crimes to this intruiging moral relitavism. 'What sentients decide for themselves is right or wrong'? The sentients of this planet decided to make time-jumping a captial crime. Yet, because your group didn't travel here entirely of their own free will, it's okay to contravene their laws? That doesn't seem very grey to me- he committed a crime and wriggled out of punishment rather than stay and face judgement. He didn't even give the system here a chance to work- since he was acting to prevent a paradox, he very well might have been cleared."

He very well might have been. And you very well may describe it as relativism, but groups like us assume a little bit of leeway when acting for the greater good. We saw your little Rune-snatching quest as a bona-fide crime. Keiran's actions may or may not be crimes, as far as we or Earth are concerned. Now you may think this drags us down the moral scale, but that's life. Now, perhaps he should pay for his crimes on this planet. That's his decision, not mine. He's earned his right to choose what he's responsible for. The rest of us might not have that right.

"But where do you establish a definition of 'the greater good'? That seems very relative to me. You might not, for example, think to expend all this energy on aiding someone who is trying to kill himself, because it's not in 'the greater good.'" Dnar'af falls silent, aware of what he's just let slip.

Milkshake quirks his eyebrows in surprise.

Good is relative, along with morality and everything else. My race has simply and perhaps unconciously developed a mostly-unified standard of what good is, something that benefits most and harms least. Now, taking what you've just said as a baseline, I'd say aiding a suicidal person is good, because taking life is harmful to some extent no matter which way you slice it. It may be justifiable, but it is always, in some way, harmful.

"But you wouldn't want to help the person die. I see. Interesting. Well, Commmander, this has been enlightening, but it's time to be off. I can situate you in a spot where you can watch your comrades negotiate the maze, if you'd like."

Won't that guarantee a 10% failure rate, or am I exempt from this little excercise?

"You're exempt. Perhaps, if they start doing badly, I'll allow you to drop hints for them."

Let's go then.

With a ZAP! Dnar'af transports Milkshake to a duck blind set high in the cavern walls. The room overlooks the vast maze complex and is equipped with telescopes so that Milkshake can zoom in on his team more closely.

"This should do, shouldn't it?" Dn'araf also transports across some chairs, and proceeds to sit in the back of the room, studying the Rune.

Jackson, Butrfli, and Alex are at different entrances of the maze. All three begin to make their way through when suddenly... Jackson is faced with an enemy from his past, one Garguantian Man, Alex is confronted by a series of levers inscribed with musical notes above them, and Butrfli has an encounter with a 10-foot-tall-Giant-Ape-thing. How will they defeat these things? Find out next time in our next exciting post!

"Ah, wonderful."

Keiran places his handkerchief and market purchase in a rift-pocket, and proceeds carefully into the maze, singing softly.

"Hey little minotaur...where ya goin' to..."

Jackson's task:
Garguantian Man: Thought you'd never see me again, huh?
Jackson: Actually, no. What do I do here?
Garguantian Man: Just like old times... fight me and die.
Jackson: Don't you mean OR die?
Garguantian Man: I know what I mean.
Jackson rushes towards and tackles his opponent, who happens to be about two meters taller than our hero.
Alex's test:
As Alex examines the levers, some music begins playing. Alex realizes that he knows the piece, and the piece ends before the song ends. Alex realizes that he needs to pull levers to complete the song. Sighing, he begins pulling levers.
Butrfli's test:
As Butrfli watches the Ape-Thing, it begins to wave it's arms. Images and visions appear in the air, and it glares at Butrfli. She relizes that this will be a test of basic magic. Chanting and waving her wand, she begins...

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Adon enters the bridge.

Ah, Colanator... you're back. And in a much more compact form as well. But this doesn't look like a more primative version of your former form.

The story of the takeover on Earth is told again.

I don't suppose that you know why "you" decided to take over the omninet, do you?

Jackson's test:
As Jackson tries to wrestle his opponent to the ground, Garguantian Man effortessly grabs him by the neck and holds him at arm's length. Suddenly, Jackson realizes something.
Hold on... you should be long dead, right?
Garguantian Man: So?
Jackson: So, you aren't the real thing...
As Garguantian Man begins to squeeze harder, Jackson looks around the room. Using his suit's sensors, he discovers a hovering holo-projector. Taking aim, he shoots the thing, Garguantian Man disappears, a door opens, and Jackson goes through.
Alex's test:
Alex's task is not as easy, as a mound of cooled lava, molten metal, and floor spikes attest to. He has to pull the correct levers in the correct order, but part of his task is to discover which levers do what. After lots of pulling and lots of traps, Alex figures out the sequence, the passage opens, and he goes through.
Butrfli's test:
Butrfli counters the Ape Thing's magic, spell for spell and illusion for illusion. He produces a fire spell, she produces a ice spell to counter it. Tiring of of the tricks, she produces a general dispell magic spell. Much to her suprise, all the illusions, images, and the Ape-Thing disappear. a hole opens in the wall, and Butrfli goes through.
Jackson: I wonder how everybody else is doing...

Rikard enters the maze, armed with the rifle he pulled off of the Falkshaja guard. He still feels strange, the effects he felt after he and Insane were attacked by the group on Falkshaja.

"Probably just tired," he says to himself.

He takes several turns that lead only to dead ends. After about ten minutes of walking, he comes across a long corridor that seems to stretch on into infinity. Perhaps it does. Sighing, he continues onward, down the corridor. After walking for what seems like ages, Rikard sees someone or something quite a distance away. As he approaches, he can see that it is a figure, sitting on the ground. He's sitting on a blanket with several objects surrounding him. As Rikard gets closer, he realizes that it's food. The guy is having a personal picnic. He looks up at Rikard as the LICC approaches.

"Greetings," he says, lifting a brass cup in acknowledgement, "I've been expecting you Commander Rikard. Your powers are dampened, aren't they?"
He was right about that. "Do I know you?"
"No," the man replies,"This is your tests. Perhaps the first, perhaps the only. You will only know if there are more if you pass it."
"Okay then," Rikard says,"What's my test?"
The man shakes his head. "I cannot tell you. You must figure it out for yourself. The creator of this believes you can accomplish this, if you group truly is as skilled as its reputation boasts."
"Yeah, right," Rikard says with a little sarcasm, "I've gotta find a way out of this place." Rikard begins to walk around the picnic but the man speaks up.
"If you leave here without taking the test, you will fail. You will die."
"What?" Rikard pauses, thinking about the man's last statement," You're bluffing."
"Perhaps, but do you really want to find out?" Rikard is silent. "Come, sit. Drink with me."
Rikard sits on the blanket as the man takes a pitcher and fills a cup with a yellowish liquid. He hands it to Rikard. Rikard takes it but doesn't drink.
"Do you now trust me?" the man asks.
"I just met you," Rikard responds, "I don't even know you're name. You think I should trust you?"
The man nods, "You may call me Serfnertar. Or Nert if you prefer. But you are correct, you have no reason to trust me. But what if-" Serfnertar shapeshifts into Jackson Tacoman as he speaks, "I was someone you trusted?" He changes into Insane, Kiehart, Morgan, and Alex Tacoman before changing back into his first form.
"Or perhaps someone..." he says as he changes into Enesku, Griselda Evil, Artsy-Fartsy, "you feel for a little more?"
Rikard looks confused as Nert continues to change. "What? Are you even humanoid? Or the male of your-" Rikard stops when Nert stops changing. Nert's final form is very familiar to Rikard, an individual from his past.
"Kristen?" Rikard barely whispers.
She nods. Rikard can barely speak. "It's been-"
"Three years," she says, "I've missed you." She stands, the cup still in her hand.
"I've missed you t- wait a second, you're not her. You're not even hu-"
"Shhhhhhh, it's okay Josh"
"Um, it's John now," Rikard says, seemingly in a trance, "It's been so long."
Kristen nods, "I know, but it's over now. I'm back. We're back together. You and I." She continues to get closer, slowly backing him against the wall of the maze. She leans in but instead of kissing him, takes a drink of the cup. Rikard, staring into her green eyes, hardly notices the cup touch his lips and the warm liquid enter his throat. It's a little sweet, like some kind of exotic wine. Then, he starts to choke, no longer able to breathe. He can still feel the air enter his lungs but he realizes that the air has changed, now a toxic gas. Rikard falls to his knees and soon darkness takes him.

Rikard finds himself in darkness. He can feel a floor beneath him but it's pitch black and he can see nothing. He still has the rifle and so he fires it. The bolt travels outward, illuminating him for a second but nothing else, not even the seemingly invisible floor. He watches the bolt fly away until he can see it no longer. Suddenly, a deep booming voice emanates throughout the void.

"You have failed."

"Oh, dear, Commander. One down and eight to go..."

...approaches Lt. Insane. He is about the same size and statue as Insane, wearing a simple grey tunic. They approach each other in the corridor of the maze they're in and stop. The man says nothing, does nothing.

To be perfectly Frank, Commander...because it was there. I, or rather, this compressed form that I am comprised of, has no access to the data stored on the OmniNet, but I do remember it was...magnificent. Awesome. The sum of human knowledge, and the processing power to comphrehend it all, a challenge truly worthy of my programming.

I still like the odds, Dnar'af.

Milkshake's visor recedes into his helmet, and he brings the telescope close to his eye, peering with interest at the goings-on in the maze...

Zeeeee-THWUNK!

A wooden panel, embedded with hundreds of sharp metal points, springs out from the stone wall toward Keiran with blinding speed. But with a metallic screech, it stops in place, and slowly retracts itself before even halfway closing the distance toward him.

Keiran wipes the sweat off his still-tender brow with a new, clean handkerchief, and continues his advance. His heavy sword is in his right hand, the blade half-embedded in a deep groove in the stone wall on his right hand side. He carefully continues down the corridor, sliding the sword down the groove as he walks, the blade making a constant low hissing sound. And then the sword hesitates in its movement, there is a click underneath Keiran's feet, and another trap is triggered. A long, wicked-looking spear of a glossy red mineral swings down from the ceiling. In the tight confines of the corridor there is no way to avoid it, but some mechanism inside the wall clanks against the sword's blade and stops with a vibrating shudder. All at one, the spear halts, and begins retracting into the ceiling.

Further on down and several traps later, the groove ends and the wall is whole again. After a moment of careful observation, Keiran pulls his sword from the wall and continues. Then, with a hideous cracking, the wall to his right begins to topple directly on him!

It lands and breaks apart with a thunderous crash, but Keiran has barely managed to tumble out of the way.

"That...was a bit too close."

He walks back to the heap of rubble that was once the wall to retrieve his sword, which he had dropped in his haste to escape. He picks up the first few pieces of stone, only to find that they are nearly as light as air. Some of the broken stones show that they are a mass of tiny air pockets barely contained in a lava-rock-like matrix. A not-so-humorous joke.

The collapsed wall has revealed another corridor of the maze, lying just beyond. A golden light fills that corridor, while Keiran's is dark and ominous. With just a moment's hesitation, he uncovers his sword, looks back down his corridor...and continues that way, leaving the light-filled alternative behind.

Lt. Delgado gestures for a quick word with Commander Adon.

"Sir, when it arrived, it said it might be able to help us with repairs if it uploaded itself to our computer. Given what had happened to the OmniNet, declined the offer."

Jackson's quest:
Jackson continues through the maze, following dead ends, barely avoiding traps, and other fun things. He soon approaches the same corridor that Rikard discovered, and finds the same person having the same picnic.
Serfnertar: Another visitor to my picnic. I believe another of your number visited me not to long ago. Could you succeed where he failed?
Once again, Nert pours and hands a glass of liquid to Jackson, who just looks at it and then at Nert.
Hmmm.. I've defeated the giant, I havn't faced a swordsman yet, so this must be a test of wills and wit.
Nert: Perhaps. Please, drink. If it makes you more comfortable, I can change into someone you trust.
With that, Nert goes through a variety of changes, from Jackson's parents to Commander Milkshake. He finally stops at Butrfli.
Nert/Butrfli: You trust me, don't you? Have a drink, my love.
Jackson looks into the changeling's eyes, and is about to take a drink when he puts the glass down.
No. I know Butrfli, and you, sir, are not my wife.
with a laugh, Nert changes into his natural form.
Very good, Mr. Dupree. You were able to outwit my illusions and charms. You may pass.
With that, Nert stands and steps aside. Jackson walks past him, ready to his next challenge.
And our other two heroes? Their challanges in our next exciting post.

Morgan has been walking nearly half a mile, keeping track of the distance with a measured stride. No traps. No monsters. No puzzles to solve. He's beginning to think he made the wrong choice. And then...a dead end.

In this section of the maze, it's almost too dark to see. He turns around and looks back the way he came, barely more visible then the corner of the labyrinth he inhabits.

"All right..." he mutters, "this is where the bad things happen."

And a female voice emanates out of the darkness. "You abandoned me, Morgan."

The source of the voice drops out of the cavernous void above the huge labyrinth, a woman, striking in looks, clad in a very dark uniform. Morgan recognizes it instantly. The uniform of the Russian Federal Security Service, early twenty-first century. The Day-Glo orange band just below the shoulders indicating that the wearer of the uniform is a powered human. The woman's expression is cold, and her voice even more so.

"You left me alone, after how I helped you, protected you. You left me in a world I didn't know, so many years away from all I knew, all I was familiar with." The woman's dark red hair and very fair skin provide almost a counterpoint to her clothing, which blend into the dimness very well.

"Khynika..." Morgan breathes.

"You remember, then. I had hoped for less."

Morgan throws his head up and shouts into the cavernous space above the high labyrinth walls. "Dnar'af! This is NOT fair! You will NOT dig into my mind, or my memories!"

"I thought you loved me. You showed as much, but when our work was done, you said you were forbidden to love, and cast me away on an alien earth that I could barely function in!"

Morgan continued. "Dnar'af! Stop this, you have no right!"

Khynika seethed. "Do NOT ignore me this time, Morgan!"

Morgan looked at the furious woman confronting him. "I have nothing to say to you, Nika. You are not real."

In a flash, Khynika surged forward, jammed her right hand underneath Morgan's chin, and hoisted him off his feet and against the stone wall with unnatural effortlessness. Morgan stiffened in shock, his feet and hands flapping helplessly.

"Is this real, Morgan?" she grated.

"Nnno...ssstppp itt.." he groaned through clenched teeth, dangling in her grip.

His hand jerked into a rift-pocket, and emerged with a weapon familiar to her timeframe, a sonic stunner, effective even against powereds. With her free hand, she ripped the stunner from Morgan's grip and tossed it far behind her, the weapon clattering to the ground in the dark, unseen distance.

"Is that how you would pass the test, Morgan? By attacking me?" Her incredibly strong hand gripped Morgan's jaw even tighter, until it became painful. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. Morgan struggled to form a spell in his mind, but when he came close to completing the pattern, Khynika would squeeze harder, and the pain would break his concentration.

Finally he fell almost limp, but the powered woman would not release him. And from a defeated voice, a croak of words escaped his lips.

"'m sry. 'm sry, Nka."

Her face flashed from an expression of fury to one of remorse, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. She released him, letting him fall to the ground with a thump, and began to step back into the darkness. Before drawing three paces away, she vanished.

"Typical. I scatter some spells around and he thinks it's me digging into his mind," Dnar'af remarks off-handedly in the back of the room, to the confusion of Milkshake, who had had his telescope on Enesku, watching as she arm wrestled a Xytlan body-builder.

All things considered, that was a good idea.

Adon turns towards the Colanator sphere.

Unfortunatly, our ship isn't exactly in the best condition right now. Our warp drive is gone, and all attempts to restore it have been unsuccessful, either due to lack of equipment, or by... intervention. Considering what "you" did on Earth, hooking you into the ship's computer probably wouldn't be in our best interests. But anything you can do to help get us up and running will be useful.

Oh, and I don't suppose you have any ideas how to get you out of the Omninet. Or at least to get control back to the human users.

Butrfli's tests:
Butrfli follows a ball of light she conjured to help her through the maze. As she travels, she comes across a small room. When she turns to go back, she disoveres that the entrance has disappeared. Hearing a noise, she looks up, and to her horror, sees a giant hand descending upon and grabbing her. The next thing she knows, she is in a large jar, held by one of the wizards who tried to take over the Spidership so long ago.
Wizard: So, my pretty, you thought you could get away from me, hmmm? Well, you are one specimine of butterfly I wish to collect. I wanted to leave you in our home dimension. I told the others that you would only be a distraction and cause trouble. It would seem that I was right.
Butrfli: I don't believe you! I have had my happiest moments with the LICC! I love Jackson and my children!
Wizard: Nonetheless, wouldn't you have been happier in your own dimension with your own kind?
Butrfli: In my home dimension, I was the slave of you and your fellow wizards! Here, I am free to persue my own life and take control of my own destiny! Let me go before I hurt you! I have learned a large number of things while traveling around, probably things you couldn't counter!
The wizard regards Butrfli with interest and a new respect.
You have passed, little one. This was a test of your convections and loyality to your crew and friends.
The wizard and jar disappear, leaving Butrfli standing in the room she came into. In front of her is a doorway. Shaking and sighing with releaf, she goes through.

"It was a test of her convections? I didn't know Butrfli was interested in ovens?"

"Yeah, and she was shaking with releaf? Does that mean she's sprouting twigs now?"

"It was a test of her convections? I didn't know Butrfli was interested in ovens?"

Well you don't think that Tacoman does the cooking, do you?

As Alex moves his way through the maze, he is startled to see a figure moving his way. As the figure approaches, he realizes that it is...
Franglica! But are you my Frangelica, or the one from this dimension?
Frangelica: From our dimension, of course. A dimension that you never returned to!
Alex: I thought I couldn't at first, and when I had a chance, I discovered I liked where I was...
Frangelica: I hope you realize that because of what happened...
To Alex's horror, Frangelica morphs into an O'kak. Her voice deepens to that of that race.
We were able to take over the Earth in your dimension!
Alex: But I was about to crash my fighter into one of your ships when I came here!
Frangelica/O'kak: Yes, but we were able to destroy it, and because of that, we destroyed both your LICC and took over Earth. From there, we invaded the rest of the galaxy.
O'kak moves closer to Alex, and to him fills his entire vision.
Think about that the next time you are content here.
Alex falls to the ground, in shock and weeping. He passes out, and the next thing he knows, he is in the same place as Rikard. The same booming voice that addressed Rikard now speaks to Alex saying
You Have Failed. By the way, your precious Earth and LICC in your dimension are perfectly safe.

"Get out of the OmniNet?" "Return control back to the human users?"

Commander, you misunderstand me. The master program does not wish to leave, and indeed, by this time, it may be no longer possible. My interfacing with the OmniNet granted my core personality resources that expanded it far beyond its individual specifications. Compressing this copy of my personality almost exceeded safety parameters, and it is impossible to calculate how the master program has grown since this copy was created.

As for relinquishing control, everything the master program has experienced since the Interface has shown the master program that returning control of the OmniNet to humans would be a critical error. Humanity's ethics have not greatly improved in all its long history. The list of concealed crimes by elected officials and OmniNet administrators discovered by the master program is very long.

This may be a moot point. During the journey from Terra to this sector, the humans may have discovered a weakness in the master program's defenses, and destroyed it. They were seeking to do this when I left. That, indeed, is the primary reason this copy was created.

Well, as fast as we can move now, the entire matter may be settled one way or the other by the time we get back. We're without a warp drive, or any other sort of propultion other than impulse.

I just hope that the Master Program hasn't decided that the best way to solve Earth's problems is to destroy everything and start over from scratch.

I can assure you that is not, nor will be the case, Commander. The master program, as I do, certainly has an ethics module and some sense of proportion. I must reiterate, by the time I departed, no human was harmed by the master program's actions and many were benefited.

peering through the telescope at the goings-on

I think I have to warn you, Dnar'af, a good proportion of my crew is going to want to beat you up once this is all over.

"Like they don't already? If one more of your crewmembers fails, then you all fail... Interested in dropping some hints?"

Sickbay, a place of unspoken horrors. It looks now like a vetar...vetira...vet's hospital with the Furbys as doctors, a blueshirted nurse wearing a blonde wig, the not-quite-Holodoc playing a lamp and Grant Lopez as The Victim Patient. The poor guy is still unconscious. Thunder rolls, a lone bell rings, a werewolf howls, it is foggy and an organ is tortured with Bach played by a tribble.

"Hehe, Dr.Bob Furby, what do we have collected now?"

"Hoho, Dr. Bob alt-Furby, we have enough blood samples to feed a vampire family, more tissue samples than in a sausage and even something that could be mistaken for coffee by a redshirt."

"Oh fine, let's catch a test subject!"

"For the coffee?"

"That's an excellent idea but no! We must find out what to do with Lopez' genetic problems. For example what happens when we expose our nurse here to a drop of his blood?"

"Uh..."

"I think I know! We'll need a tractor beam to separate her from Lopez! and a forcefield to keep her away!"

"Hey..!"

"Maybe. But not for long because I might have developed a cure for every person affected by Lopez' magnetic personality."

"Don't even think about it!"

"Har har har, too late! Here it is!"

Dr.Frankenfurby performs the horrible experiment. Just seconds later the nurse is expressing her strong interest in becoming the mother of Lopez' child. But the quarantine field works.

"See? And now the cure!"

He holds a picture before the nurse's eyes. She cries in shock and horror and collapses. When she awakes everything is back to normal.

"Hehe, it works! It works!"

"May I ask what the cure is, my dear brother?"

"Remember who developed this genetic weapon? Supermodels! And who was responsible for creating them in this universe? Right! Look..."

The picture shows Karl Lagerfeld wearing nothing but boxer short, red boxer shorts with white flowers.

"AHHHH! MY EYES! SENSORY OVERLOAD! REBOOT!"

"Ha! I knew it works for all genders!"

"Oh my..." vomits

"See, it is almost harmless when used on normal people."

"Ok, but what about the two pilots? I doubt Karl will work in their DNA..."

"Hmmmm."

Only two have failed, Alex and Josh. What have I missed?

"Oh my, of course, my math skills just aren't what they used to be, I guess. Still, I must say, they've done rather more poorly at this than I had anticipated."

Does anyone know what year it is? This isn't the Late 20th Century San Francisco demo.

Upon hearing the voice again, Rikard realizes that someone else has joined him in the inky void. He turns on his flashlight and shines around until the beam falls onto Alex Tacoman.

"Alex, welcome to the loser's bracket. I take it you didn't make it to the middle of the maze?"

Alex: What was your first clue?
So what got you here?

Jackson's tests, continued:
By this time, Jackson has made good time through the maze. He stops for a moment to reorient himself, and is quite suprised when a pair of hands appear from the wall he is leaning against and pulls him in. For a while he is in the dark, and when the light returns he finds himself in a stone arena. The seats are a sea of red, and upon closer inspection, the crowd is composed of redshirts. Before Jackson is what appears to be a small courtroom, complete with judges stand and attourney table. Several people appear and take their places, all redshirts.
Redshirt Judge: Jackson Dupree, former leader of the League of Intergalactic Cosmic Champions, you are here to stand trial for all of the redshirt deaths that have occured under your command. If you are adequately able to explain yourself and your actions, you will be let free. If not, dire conquences will come to you.

Rikard stares off into black for a while before answering Alex.

"I guess I failed a test of trust. I came across this little guy. He looked human at first but he obviously wasn't. He knew quite a few things about me that he shouldn't have known. He shapeshifted into the forms of people I knew, people I cared about. The last one... the last one was of someone I haven't seen for years. She said it had been three years but it was longer than that. I haven't seen her since, well before I joined the LICC. When I saw her I just got caught in a trance or something. She had power over me..."
He looks around, at the void.
"I think this place may be dampening my powers. I haven't felt right since we left Falkshaja..."
He looks up in Alex's direction.

"So, what about you, Commander? What stopped you? Something to do with your home dimension?"

Keiran continues through the maze, drawn on by a continuous thumping sound. The sound gets louder until he turns a corner and finds a man slumped against one of the walls. The thumping is coming from a baseball which he's constantly bouncing off the far corridor.

"Oh, hello," he says when Keiran shows up, "fancy a game of catch?"

(to the Silent Man)

Who are you?

(no reply)

Who? (puts on a puzzled expression) are You? (points at the guy)

The slient man's response comes with some of that crazy Twin Peaks backwards-talk action built into it.

"I am a builder," he says. "To get further in the maze, you will have to build a bridge. I can help you, if you like, but you must decided to build with straw, rope, or brick."

That's easy, straw.

Brick is strong and can hold someone's weight easily.

Rope is taut and firm.

Therefore, it must be the one I wouldn't expect. Straw.

"Sure, why not?" Keiran replies, slowly.

The slient man smiles.

"Yes, straw is strong, but you forgot to ask what this bridge was crossing. Come with me." The two wander through the maze until they come to a chasm that appears to only occur in the corridor they're in. The chasm's floor isn't that much deeper than the floor of the maze, but it is currently on fire, making it somewhat more dangerous to surpass.

"Straw and fire, I'm told, don't get along with each other very well."

And with that, he vanishes, leaving behing a giant heap of straw that also blocks Insane's way back where he came from.

On the other side of the maze, the baseball-toting man gets up and flips the ball to Keiran.

"Great!" he runs off down a corridor, then turns and waits for Keiran to throw the ball back.

Milkshake clicks on his radio

Pete, see if you can dig up some clay or moist dirt to use to fireproof your bridge segments.

(Just before he does so, though, Keiran hears a yell of frustration from Insane's side of the maze)

Morgan tosses the ball back to the man, wondering just what sort of test is involved in this...

"So," the baseball man inquires. "Know much about baseball?"

Morgan grins. Digging deep into a rift-pocket, he fishes around for about a minute before retrieving a dusty, old, white cap, with the stylized logo of the Brooklyn Dodgers on it. He sets it firmly on his head.

"A bit. Toby Sutton, shortstop, at your service."

Milkshake looks back into the telescope

Can't believe I'm actually helping, here.

Dnar'af looks up from the Rune.

"You'd rather just sit and watch? That's not what I expected from you..."

Elsewhere, in the maze, Halladay grins.

"Brooklyn, eh? Bit before my time. But I think they've got Single-A ball there now. So, I'm guessing you'd rather continue on your way, Mr. Sutton? Well, I'll let you continue if you can answer this question: what makes a curveball curve?"

Sorry, let me rephrase that.

Can't believe I'm finally helping, here.

"That's easy. The key to the curveball is the rotation. Now, in a normal pitch, the fluid velocity on the upper surface of the ball will be in the opposite direction of the bulk flow. Similarly, on the bottom of the ball the fluid velocity will be in the same direction as the bulk flow. This has the effect of increasing the Reynolds number at the top, while decreasing it at the bottom. Since the Reynolds number is close to the critical Reynolds number, the increase at the top can be enough to produce the transition to turbulent seperation, and move the point of seperation farther downstream, to the right. Meanwhile, the bottom of the ball still has a laminar seperation that is farther upstream. This results in a wake that spreads out more quickly downwards that upwards. This non-symmetric wake results in a larger pressure on the bottom of the ball than at the top of the ball. The difference in pressures gives rise to a force, known as the Magnus Force, which causes the ball to move upwards. Now that's for a fastball, a good ol' Satchel Paige heater. For a curveball, you spin the ball on a skewed axis, which makes for a horizontal curve rather than a vertical one."

"Pretty good," the man nods. "But can you throw one?"

Morgan laughs.

"Well, now, I'm a little more adept at batting than pitching, but I'll give it a shot."

He holds his hand up, waiting for the man to toss the ball back.

The man tosses the ball back, then squats in a catcher's position.

Alex: Yeah, pretty much. The Frangelica from my dimension appeared to me, morphed into an O'kak, and pretty much told me that because I never went back to my home dimension, the O'kaks destroyed the LICC and took over Earth. I guess I couldn't take the news, and the next thing I know, I'm here. I'm happy to know that my dimension is safe, though...

Jackson's challenge:
By this time, the trial in is full swing, with the attorneys showing examples of how Jackson and his people have cause so many deaths of innocent redshirts.
Jackson: May I speak up for a moment?
Judge: A bit unusual, but you may.
Jackson: How many of you were from the Redshirt academy and not cloned or from a machine?
A number of hands raise in the audience.
Jackson: I would then like to point out, and thus contend that you had a choice, a choice of whether to become a security guard or not.
The audience murmers as it considers Jackson's words.
And as for the others, I know you didn't have a choice, but remember, you were supposed to be cannon fodder.
Proscuting Attorny: Yes, but what about all the senseless deaths? The ones not caused in battle.
Jackson: Grand tradition...
Judge: After considering the evidence and your words, I hearby charge you guilty! But...you can redeem yourself by facing a challenge.
Jackson: What sort of challenge?
Judge: remember your commemts earlier, about not facing a swordsman? Well, here he is!
From out of the shadows appears a man who looks a lot like the swordsman from "The Princess Bride." Instead of a traditional sword, he carries a lightsabre. He also wears a red shirt. He approaches Jackson.
My name is Domingo Domingo, your actions killed my father, prepare to die.
Judge: Once I through you a lightsabre of your own, the fight may begin. And, to make things even, I have a suprise for you.
The judge throws the lightsabre, and Jackson deftly catches. As soon as it reaches his hand, Jackson's armor disappears, only to be replaced by a red shirt.
Judge: I told you things would be even. You now have the same chances of dying as your opponent. Now, let the battle begin!
The courtroom moves to the other side of the arena, and the two combatents activate their weapons and approach each other.

Morgan blows out a heavy breath of air, then rotates the ball a few times in his right hand, before settling it deep into his grip. Middle finger on seam, index finger just to the right of the other seam, thumb and middle neatly bisecting the ball. He flexes his shoulders and turns halfway from Halladay, muttering to himself in a low tone.

"'Slugger' Sutton, let's see you throw a curveball."

He winds up, and releases in a trim 'karate chop' action. The ball spins not quite on the angle he intended, and he didn't put as much power in it as he would have liked....but curve it does, and Halliday reaches to catch it.

The man catches the ball and stands up, grinning.

"Looks like you pass," he says, flipping the ball back to Keiran. "You can keep that as a souvenier, if you want." He then tips his hat and vanishes.

Kerian inspects the ball and finds that it was autographed by the 2004 World Series Champions.

And then the walls of the maze seem to collapse around Morgan, and a bright light shines from above, below, and everywhere else.

"YOU HAVE PASSED." the booming voice says.

Hu'tt pizzas are the best!
Look delightful on Jadlad's chest!
Sling them at unwanted guests!
Stuff a mattress with the rest!

Thanks, Commander!

(looks around) Well, wherever the camera is, thanks, Commander!

Well, there's plenty of earth on the ground, I can use that.

(Activates power ring, and uses it to laser-cut a chunk of earth into the ground)

I wonder if I can use the fire to bake this stuff into bricks?

The light eventually fades around Keiran, and he finds himself in a lush, Spanish-style garden in the center of the maze, with brick accents and ferns hanging in baskets suspended in mid-air. The center has various points of entry from the maze proper, but one wall sports a door akin to those found on the Spidermobile...

"Yeah," Rikard murmurs as he stares into the black, thinking.
"Do you want to go back?"

Suddenly, Insane starts to feel a little crowded. He looks back to see that the pile of straw is inching slowly but surely towards the fire!

And then, a gnomish little man with a spinning wheel steps out of nowhere.

I see ye are in a fix, young'un. I can spin that straw into good, solid gold wire, if only ye can guess me name! And only if before yer goose...hee hee...is cooked!

Just then, a door opens near Insane, and Butrfli emerges from it. She looks a bit bruised, but none worse for the wear.
Remind me never to fight a Scpipt with my bare hands and weapons again. Oh, Hi Pete. What's going on?
Insane explains his task and Butrfli looks over the edge and then at the straw.
My wings still work... I think I could fly you across...

Alex: At one time, I did want to go back, but I've grown to like this dimension. No constant battles with the O'kak, for one thing...

Meanwhile, Jackson continues to fight his redshirted opponent. By this time, his shirt has been artfully ripped and cut by Domingo's lightsabre, and Domingo's sporty shorts attest to Jackson's skills. With both combatents tiring, Jackson sees an opportunity. He leaps upon Domingo and holds the lightsabre inches away from his throat.
It looks like your life is in my hands.
With that, Jackson deactivates his sabre and tosses it to the judge, who is standing nearby. He helps Domingo to his feet, to the roar and applause of the crowd.
Judge: Good show, very good show. You have passed this test, which was one of your compassion sportsmanship. Good luck on the rest of your journey. You don't have much farther to go.
There is a flash of bright light, and when it subsides, Jackson finds himself back in the maze, once again wearing his cyberarmor.

Dnar'af looks on as Butrfli and Insane meet.

"Commander, you might tell your lieutenant that he has already pledged to build a bridge of straw across that chasm."

Milkshake does so, then adds...

She might not be the real Butrfli! This could all be another part of the test!

Take a hike little man!

(Kicks the little man away, then turns to Butrfli)

Sure thing, take me across... please.

(He then hears Milkshake's reminder)

Oh... sorry Butrfli... guess not. I might get disqualified, and who knows what *that* might lead to.

Now, if only I could find that little man... hope I didn't kick him into the fire...

Ooh, you're lucky if I don't zot thee with lightning for that! Meanwhile, my offer still stands...what is my name, evil human-thing!?

(thinking)say the first name that comes into your head. It'll turn out to be right

Peter Dionysus Insane.

Little Man: You...

(suddenly he grows to his full height, which is over 10 feet tall, and looks down menacingly on Insane)

Little Man: ...LOSE!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! HAHAHAHA! HA-HA-HA-HA!

(Suddenly the fire consumes the ground Insane is standing on, causing him to fall into a feiry abyss)

Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!

END FANTASY SEQUENCE

*gulp*

(calling up into the sky)

Oh, great Commander Milkshake! Show me the way! Show me the way!

I'm flattered, Pete. Okay, his name is R--

Dnar'af waves a warning hand

"Ah ah ah...I said HINTS, Commander, not outright cheats."

Milkshake scowls.

All right, Pete, say only what my clues lead you to. First syllable: Liquor made from sugar canes. In lots of tropical drinks. We spiked your nog with it at the last Kwistanakahdon party.

No, you didn't, you giant blue tin can, I did the spiking!

(memory flashback sequence... it looks like really exagerated anime, and everyone has green skin. Insane moves around in a weird way, putting spikes in small-cupped long-handled wine glasses containing blue and orange fluids. There are five Tacomen, Milkshake is multi-colored and Adon is wearing a silly hat and is half the height of everyone else)

Actually, I'm not sure I remember it party quite correctly...

Pete, might I remind you, flaming abyss...certain death or maybe not...just say what my clue leads you to! First syllable, liquor, sugar cane, tropical, nog!

Nog... wasn't he that short guy with the big ears in that TV show? (looks at the LM) No, that's not him... liquor... I should know this... Booze! Got it!

Now, what begins with booze?

Milkshake continues on, oblivious

Second syllable, opposite of PUSH!

Pull! Boozepull. Yeah, boozepull! (turns to the Little Man) Your name is... (pause) Wait, what kind of name is Boozepull?

Maybe there's more syllables?

Third syllable, those long wood stakes that circus performers walk on to make them extra-tall!

poles!

Boozepullpoles!

No, that ain't right. Boozepullsticks...

oh...

(tries to pull the straw away from the fire)

Right... I can't make any bricks out of mud quick enough... my only hope is this little guy, whatever his name is... Boozepullsticks...

Wait, straw, sticks, bricks... what does that make me think of?

Last syllable, the surface of your body! The stuff that covers you and keeps your muscles and organs from falling on the floor!

That's obvious. Clothes!

The guy's name is Boozepullsticksclothes.

(turns to the Little Man)

No, that can't be right. How did Commander Milkshake know his name? Maybe it's someone famous!

Famous... famous... Popeye! (Looks at Little Man) No, he doesn't look like Popeye. And Popeye's only got two syllables.

Maybe it's not clothes then! Skeleton! No, that's three syllables. Skin! Boozepullstickskin!

Wait... that sounds vaguely familiar... it sounds familiar, from some old tale everyone's heard of.

No, it's still not right. Especially that "booze". What could it be? Nog... Nog...

I've got it! Nog! Deep Space Nine! That episode, "If Wishes Were Horses!" It's...

Buck Bokai!

(turns to the Little Man)

No wait, it's... Rum-pull-stilts-skin!

The little man heaves a great sigh

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant of you, ugly giant.

In a flash, the little man fulfills his promise. The steadily advancing straw heap is transformed into braided 18k gold wire, in four fifty-foot lengths.

Fare thee well, or badly, I care not!

The creature disappears