MiSTied: Robotech III, The Odysseus Epic (Part 1/2)
Mark Mark
Wohoo! I finished it at last!
In the not-too-distant future...
[We open on the Satellite of Love. Mike is sitting there; before him is a pile
of menus from take-out restaurants. He's dialing a phone but having little
luck reaching anyone. Propped unobtrusively in one corner of the set is a
mirror.]
[Enter Crow.]
CROW: So, Mike, how's the dinner plans?
MIKE: Not so good, Crow. Hardly any of the take-out places will deliver to
geosynchronous orbit. And the ones that will are either closed or not taking
dinner orders until 6:00 PM. I'm down to this last one.
CROW: [craning his neck to read it] Hmm? I dunno if I'm up for Japanese. Oh
well, I'll be in the load pan bay with Servo if you need me.
[Crow wanders off. Mike dials the number.]
PHONE: Hello, this is the Relief Goddess Office Technical Support Line.
MIKE: Huh? I'm sorry, I wanted Fujishima's Takeout --
PHONE: We will have one of our technical support representatives over to you
right away to handle your request. [click]
MIKE: Uh... [stares at phone] Hello? Hello?
[Suddenly there is a whoosh and roar of brilliant special effects, and from
the mirror emerges a startlingly beautiful, elaborately dressed brown-haired
and big-eyed woman...]
BELLDANDY: Hello?
MIKE: Yaah! Who are you?
BELLDANDY: I am the Goddess Belldandy. You called from the Relief Goddess
Office for help. Well, here I am.
MIKE: Goddess?
BELLDANDY: [bowing] At your service. My job is to assist people in dire need,
such as yourself. I can grant you one wish.
MIKE: Is this one of those Twilight Zone situations where I wish for something
and its most awful consequence comes down and destroys me?
BELLDANDY: Of course not! As a Goddess, I cannot lie or trick you.
MIKE: I can wish for _anything_?
BELLDANDY: Anything your heart desires.
MIKE: All _right_! Okay, here I go. I wish you would take this satellite back
down to Ear --
[Enter Tom and Crow.]
TOM: Hey Mike, we plugged up that leak in the air intake with all of your old
socks, but -- Say, who's the new girl?
BELLDANDY: [smiling] Hello!
MIKE: Uh, hi Tom, hi Crow, this is Belldandy. She's... er...
BELLDANDY: [brightly] A goddess.
CROW: You're a _goddess_?
BELLDANDY: Yes. I work for the Lord, in Technical Support.
TOM: Gee. What's the Lord really like?
BELLDANDY: He's just like Bill Gates.
CROW: Wow.
[Commercial Sign light flashes.]
CROW: Hey, we got commercial sign.
MIKE: Gates willing, we'll be right back.
[**** Commercial Break ****]
TOM: So you're a real life Goddess? You have, like, magic powers and stuff?
BELLDANDY: Yes, of course!
[Belldandy produces spectacular fireworks with her hands.]
TOM: Neat!
BELLDANDY: Thank you!
CROW: Mike, we have to think of a really cool wish.
TOM: Yeah. I could wish for better scripts on seaQuest DSV!
CROW: I could wish to decide who lives and who dies!
MIKE: Listen, you two, I'm the one who manifested the supernatural being. So I
get to make the wish and I've already picked it. Belldandy?
BELLDANDY: [cheerfully] Yes, Mike? Have you decided?
MIKE: I wish for you to take the Satellite down to --
[The Mads' light flashes.]
CROW: Oh, look, Dark Schneider is calling.
MIKE: Sigh... I'm noticing a trend here. [hits the button]
[Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is there, looking smug as ever.]
FORRESTER: Ah. Michael-kun. Botsy-chan. And... friend? [frowns] I simply must
upgrade the Satellite of Love's defense systems. All sorts of galactic riff-
raff are wandering on board these days. Anyway, watch your brain, because
today you're going to meet a crawling horror from that den known as
rec.arts.anime.stories. The lovable _Robotech_ we all enjoyed back in grade
school has been transformed into a turgid morass spoken of only in whispers as
_Robotech III: The Odysseus Epic_ -- and after it's over you'll feel like
you've been wandering the Mediterranean for ten years too, boobie. It's served
with a short, chock full of yummy conspiracy details on how your Preferred
Customer Discount Card is a tool of Big Brother and the New World Order.
Prepare for a Buster Beam Attack, Ataru Moroboshi.
[Back on the SOL. Clearly nobody has been paying attention to Dr. F.]
TOM: I've got it, I've got it! I'll wish that Battlestar: Galactica was never
taken off the air.
CROW: How about you wish that it didn't suck, instead?
TOM: Why, you little --
[They start fighting.]
BELLDANDY: [apologetically] I don't mean to be a bother, but I have to know
your wish soon. The Lord has all of us goddesses on a very tight schedule ever
since He released Cosmos '95.
MIKE: Gee, that's a shame; it's been nice to see a new face around here. I
wish you could stay with us a little longer, but --
[BOOM! A brilliant flare of light centered on Belldandy throws everyone to the
floor. The set is disarrayed as small objects and assorted bits and pieces
drift weightlessly around her, and sparks and flares emit from her forehead.
At length, the light show winds down and she settles back to the floor.]
CROW: What in the Sam Hill was _that_?
BELLDANDY: [smiling] Your wish has been approved.
MIKE: What wish?
BELLDANDY: You wished for me to stay with all of you. And now I shall. For the
duration at least, we are inseperable.
MIKE: But -- that wasn't --
TOM: Oh, nice one, Nelson. We could have gotten VR.5 renewed.
MIKE: But -- but I --
BELLDANDY: And it can never be revoked. Wishes are controlled by the powerful
Ultimate Force. To put it in terms you would understand, it's almost as
powerful as Megaweapon.
CROW: Wow! That's powerful.
MIKE: But --
[Buzzers and lights go off.]
TOM: Oh no, we've got USENET SIGN!!!
[They rush for the theater. Mike pulls Belldandy along.]
BELLDANDY: Yikes!
...6...5...4...3...2...1...
>Path: psuvm!news.cuny.edu!news.sprintlink.net!metro.atlanta.com!
>spcuna!uunet!in2.uu.net!ftpbox!newsfeed.acns.nwu.edu!news.cc.uic.edu!
>e046.gene.uic.edu!user
[Everyone files into the theater.]
BELLDANDY: So we sit here?
MIKE: That's right.
[Belldandy sits next to Mike on the left.]
>From: u58...@uic.edu
TOM: Heh, check this guy out. I am not a man, I am a free number!
>Newsgroups: alt.fan.cecil-adams,alt.conspiracy
>Subject: Re: Anti-counterfitting or Big Brother?
CROW: [Minnewegian voice] Ooo, I dunno, they both look so tasty!
BELLDANDY: And riff the post, like that?
MIKE: Pretty much.
>Date: Wed, 27 Sep 1995 22:51:07 -0500
>Organization: University of Illinois at Chicago
>Lines: 56
>Message-ID: <u58563-2709...@e046.gene.uic.edu>
>References: <ALFAC...@thefarmbbs.com>
MIKE: Al Face? I went to high school with Al Face!
>NNTP-Posting-Host: e046.gene.uic.edu
>
>I don't buy the "counterfeiting strip magnetic resonance" stuff.
CROW: I much prefer the "black helicopter foaming nut" stuff.
>HOWEVER, all you "nice normal people" better THINK before you walk into a
>"cashless society" *trap*!
BELLDANDY: [enchanted] Look at all the lovely punctuation!
>
>What could be done with the information about your bag of Doritos?
TOM: Ooh, make a paper airplane, or an origami swan, or a butterfly...
> Well....
>1) Government agencies tracking down fugitives or illegal immigrants or
>illegal emigrants or people who try to acquire a new identity to avoid
>punitive legal restrictions, etc.
MIKE: Wouldn't want law enforcement agencies tracking down criminals.
You never know where that could lead.
> could compile a "fingerprint" of your
>purchases.
TOM: It'll never work. They'll end up sitting in their offices until 3 AM
trying to figure out where they left out a semicolon. Heh, because you see,
"compile," and...
> Do you like Doritos or Cheeze Curls?
CROW: Cheese curls!
MIKE: Doritos!
CROW: Uh, door number two!
TOM: The box! What's in the box!
BELLDANDY: My goodness, you do get into this, don't you?
MIKE: Hey, it passes the time.
> Do you eat eggplant,
>liver, onions?
MIKE: [rapid-fire] What is the location of the secret rebel base?
TOM: [rapid-fire] What's the frequency, Kenneth?
CROW: [rapid-fire] Why did you resign?
> What breakfast cereal, what laundry detergent?
BELLDANDY: [triumphantly] This is not my beautiful house!
CROW: Ooh, she shoots, she scores!
> Before
>long, you establish a single, measurable identity far more unique than a
>fingerprint.
> I ask you,
MIKE: [as John McLaughlin] -- Morton Kondracke!
TOM: Uh, what was the question?
MIKE: WRONG!
> *WHY* do some supermarket chains give you a discount if you
>present a "Preferred Customer" card at your purchase? Do you know where
>that information is going NOW?
CROW: [as Dana Scully] Mulder, I ran that "Preferred Customer" card you
got at Superfresh through a scanner, and the machine went crazy -- what
_is_ this thing? I -- *crash* MULDER!!
> [ObCecilAdams: where DOES that info go?]
MIKE: Into delicious, chewy Pepperidge Farm cookies! Mmm-mmm, good!
>2) Socialist health care is a standard in much of the world. If you
>overeat, it costs the government money. If you don't get your vitamins,
>it costs the government money. Clearly some inventive bastard
CROW: *Gasp*! Dr. Clayton Forrester!
> will wait
>about 2.3 seconds after cash is abolished, then propose a Caloric Tax.
>Everything you buy that is edible
TOM: Phew. They won't be taxing my Twinkie purchases.
BELLDANDY: Or my sister Urd's cooking.
CROW: Say, you have a _sister_?
BELLDANDY: [gently] Crow, don't get your hopes up.
> will be indexed for healthiness, and the
>Social Cost of your actions will be appended to your bill.
MIKE: And we _all_ know how painful that can be.
TOM: Next time on "Cops." A madman is holed up in an apartment with
ten hostages and a full bag of membership warehouse popcorn...
> This has the
>further advantage of spotting Undeclared Persons, if they want to eat,
TOM: [as interviewer] And do you have a special diet, Mr. Tirebiter?
CROW: [as old man] I don't eat.
TOM: You don't eat?
CROW: But it hasn't affected my appetite!
>since anomalous calorie usage will show up on the computers. And if you
>want to drink some beer.... ! ... God help you!!!
BELLDANDY: [brightly] Yes?
MIKE: I think he was speaking metaphorically.
TOM: Heh. 24-hour police surveillance doesn't faze this guy, but take away his
beer...
> They'll have you
>rationed yet; you'll probably have to return the empties to prove that you
>are having a healthy single beer after dinner instead of a destructive
>"binge". (they'll call it "recycling" at first?)
CROW: You tell us! You're the writer...
>3) Imagine the benefits in forensics.
TOM: Just imagine! Yes, 3M innovation can bring to _you_ --
> WHO dared to deface the
>anti-tobacco billboard?
MIKE: Suddenly this is a Dr. Seuss story!
TOM: It was the net.loon, in the conservatory, with the lead pipe.
CROW: Ah, I'd just like to point out here that this allegedly individualist
poster is actively taking the side of huge, evil multinational corporations
that sell addictive drugs. Thank you.
> Well, who bought gasoline within the radius, or
>used public transportation, and has purchased red spray paint from company
>X
MIKE: At last, a company for our generation.
> (they'll have a way to figure out which!). Now restrict that those
>wearing shoes with the registered shoe-prints of whatever U.S.
>distributor...
CROW: [as policeman] Now touch your fingertips together at arm's length... Now
breathe into this tube. All right, sir, you can go. Drive safely, now.
> before long you have your terrorist!
TOM: Yep! You've got him! Easy as pie! Er, you're not buying this, are you.
> Sentence him to a
>lifetime of electronic monitoring and restriction of civil liberties, with
>cell-phone real-time bugging built in,
MIKE: They're going to put him on jury duty? Those fiends!
> and see how much revolution he can
>plot!
TOM: Bet he could plot a heck of an episode of "Star Trek: Voyager," though.
>4) Complete surveillance provides a far higher quality of feedback to the
>controllers of a society. A media campaign for Colon Powell
[All snicker.]
CROW: Sounds like a new type of laxative. "Gentle, soothing Colon Powell..."
MIKE: [putting a hand on his shoulder] Okay, that's enough.
> can be
>measured precisely, in terms of copies of newspapers sold, decreases in
>donations to other candidates (it isn't just THEIR business anymore),
CROW: It's not just for breakfast anymore!
TOM: It's not just for conspiracy wackos anymore.
>copies of his book sold (where, when?).
TOM: Mr. Vice President! Somebody finally bought a copy of your book!
> Conversely, if a particular
>community has a problem;
MIKE: Hello. I'm Andover, Massachusetts, and... I have a problem.
ALL: Hello, Andover.
> if it has an unusual high rate of sale of Noam
>Chomsky volumes, for instance, the persons making those purchases can be
>examined in detail.
TOM: By employees of the Federal Department of We Had Nothing
Better to Do That Sunday Afternoon.
> What do they have in common --- do they watch a
>particular program on cable with a hidden subversive agenda?
CROW: [brightly] Oh, you mean like the Mystery Sci -- uh... oh.
ALL: [ahem, cough, clear throats, etc.]
> Do they make
>contacts on Internet that somehow have not been busted with convenient
>laws
CROW: The Law...
TOM: The LAW!
about pornography, advocating drug legalization, giving usable
>recipes for potentially destructive or abusable products? Although this
>sounds vague --- it is vague ---
TOM: [nudging Belldandy] Go ahead. Say it.
BELLDANDY: Okay. Um... I suppose it's nice that there's finally a verifiable
fact in this post.
MIKE: You know, you've been pretty quiet so far, Belldandy.
BELLDANDY: Well, if I can't say anything good about someone I try not to say
anything at all. Is that wrong?
> I rather suspect that this last provision
CROW: Provision of _what_?
TOM: I think we left the antecedent at the station about ten miles back.
>will turn out to be the most devastating of all, because in the end
>intelligence is the most crucial part of the battle.
MIKE: Heh.
>=== Long live the revolution! ===
MIKE: [thoughtfully] Isn't that actually the problem with most revolutions?
CROW: Uh, I'd love to stay and chew the dialectic with you, Mike, but we gotta
go.
[Exeunt.]
...1...2...3...4...5...6...*...
[SOL Bridge. A small kitchenette has appeared from nowhere. Belldandy is
cooking something on it while humming an awful tune. Mike, Tom, Crow, and
Gypsy are gathered 'round.]
BELLDANDY: [humming (see, I told you)] Oh egg, oh egg, I'm gonna mix you...
MIKE: So, uh, Belldandy, what did you think of the post?
BELLDANDY: Oh, from everything I've heard they're supposed to be terrible. But
actually, it was quite a lot of fun!
TOM: _Really_?
BELLDANDY: Of course! When you mock the terrible posts that get sent to you,
you reaffirm how happy you really are to be alive -- even if it is up on a
satellite in space. And as long as you have that hope and happiness, the posts
are just words and letters; they cannot harm you.
CROW: Huh. I never thought about it that way.
BELLDANDY: All done!
[She starts apportioning out plates of whatever it is she's cooked.]
GYPSY: Yum!
MIKE: What is it?
BELLDANDY: Well, let's see. It's boiled octopus, folded over in fried hake,
poured on French toast.
MIKE: Er...
BELLDANDY: Don't worry, I made some without RAM chips for the two of us. Dig
in!
[Cut to Deep 13. Dr. F looks seriously perturbed.]
FORRESTER: No. This is unacceptable! The subject, actually enjoying himself?
That'll ruin all my experimental results! Seven seasons -- er, years of hard
research, wasted! The National Mad Science Foundation might take away my
grant! [determined] No, it won't happen. This must be stopped! I'll have to
hit Godai and Kyoko up there where it _hurts_, and finish them off with _one
blow_!
[He jumps up and starts looking through a file cabinet. From each file folder
he produces something evil and ugly-looking.]
FORRESTER: Let's see... Deep Hurting... concentrate of Ratliff... -_-
additive... essence of alt.tv.x-files.creative? Yeargh! That's too evil, even
for me.
[Finally, at the back of the cabinet, he finds a tiny glowing crystal.]
FORRESTER: A-_ha_! Of course... desperate times call for desperate measures!
Install this in the console, will you, Fra -- oh, that's right.
[Dr. F installs the crystal in the console himself.]
FORRESTER: Let's see you Nut Sabers stand up against... _Hypno-Helio Static
Stasis_! Ah-HA, hahahahahahaahahaaaa!!
[Cut to SOL bridge. Everyone is enjoying the food with gusto, bots making
"yummy" noises, and so on.]
MIKE: This is great!
GYPSY: Delicious!
BELLDANDY: I knew you'd like -- [Pause. She suddenly looks worried.] Do you
hear maniacal laughter?
MIKE: Um, well, now that you mention it --
TOM: Say, Mike, could you, uh, help me out here? Er, what with the arms and
all.
MIKE: Sure thing, bud.
BELLDANDY: [quickly] Please, allow me! [She spears a bit of food with her
chopsticks and offers it to Tom.] Open wide!
TOM: Why, thank you!
[Tom eats the morsel and suddenly springs out of his seat.]
TOM: AAAH!!
CROW: Huh?
BELLDANDY: What's wrong?
TOM: It's TOO GOOD! I... I can't TAKE IT!!
MIKE: Hey, Tom --
TOM: WHAT FLAVOR! Tastier than the five-star cuisine of the finest chefs! A
hundred -- nay, a THOUSAND -- nay, TEN THOUSAND TIMES TASTIER! HOW CAN I EVEN
BEGIN TO DESCRIBE SUCH FLAVOR?!
[He collapses loudly on the floor. Pause.]
CROW: I'll have what he's having.
[Movie Sign alarms go off --]
MIKE: Uh oh. We've got FANFIC SIGN!!
...*...6...5...4...3...2...1...
[All four enter the theater. Belldandy is carrying Tom.]
MIKE: Er, I can carry him.
BELLDANDY: Oh, it's no trouble! [She sets Tom down and sits next to Mike
again.] There you go.
TOM: [still dazed] Such flavor...
>Newsgroups: rec.arts.anime.stories
BELLDANDY: How strange.
MIKE: Hmm?
BELLDANDY: I just felt the fall of a very small, but definitely unlucky star.
>Path: psuvm!news.cac.psu.edu!news.tc.cornell.edu!travelers.mail.cornell.edu!
>news.kei.com!
CROW: [as fanboy] They're death in high heels! Armageddon in a teeny-weeny
bikini!
TOM: [as fanboy] Screw you, pal! Lovely Angels rule!
MIKE: Is that still up, after the plague and all?
>usc!howland.reston.ans.net!
>tank.news.pipex.net!pipex!in1.uu.net!world!megazone
>From: Presley Cannady <76725...@CompuServe.COM>
CROW: Dear National Enquirer. Elvis is alive! He has a Compuserve account and
he lives in Canada!
>Subject: [Preview] Robotech: TOE A-I Book 2 [FanFic]
TOM: Robotech: Artificially Intelligent Toes!
CROW: Hey, I _liked_ Robotech!
>Message-ID: <4471ou$lbs$2...@mhadf.production.compuserve.com>
>Followup-To: poster
MIKE: So after the fanfic is over we get to wind up and post the author! All
right!
>X-World-Archive:
TOM: A whole new universe from Marvel Comics. Coming soon.
> Robotech/robotech.odysseus-epic.book-2.gz
>Sender: mega...@world.std.com (MegaZone)
>Organization: Robotech Development Group, North Eastern America
TOM: Scotty, don't you _ever_ mention that show again -- or I'll stab you to
death with my chin.
MIKE: [doubletake] _Wow_, that's obscure.
>Date: Tue, 26 Sep 1995 07:44:30 GMT
>Approved: mega...@world.std.com
>Lines: 407
BELLDANDY: Oh, my.
>
>And a preview of Book II: The Bending of Rules--
>
>Robotech III: The Odysseus Epic
>by Presley H. Cannady and others
CROW: Don't step on my blue suede Veritechs.
>76725...@compuserve.com
>
>Act I- Superdimensional Starforce Orion
TOM: [alien voice] Star Force? We do not consider the Star Force to be a
threat.
>Book II- The Bending of Rules
>________________________________________________________________
>
>The New Era Sagas and all therein are copyright 1995@ Presley H.
>Cannady.
CROW: [singing] You ain't nothin' but an Invid dog, a-frying troops of mine...
MIKE: I think that's enough Elvis jokes for now.
> All rights reserved. Any profit-intended publication of
>this novel without authorization of the author or current copyright
>holders is strictly prohibited.
MIKE: [bemused] They always say that.
BELLDANDY: Well, hope springs eternal!
>
>Copyright 1995@ Anime/Macross/Robotech Development Group
>Copyright 1985@ Harmony Gold
TOM: If these are E-mail addresses, they're pretty badly formed.
>Copyright 1982@ Tatsunoko Productions
>Copyright 1982@ Studio Nue
CROW: It took five people to copyright this fanfic.
>________________________________________________________________
>
>This story is the largest part of my New Era interpretation.
TOM: Uh-oh.
MIKE: Threats will get you nowhere, Presley! We can't be cowed that easily!
> My
>theories conclude that there are many Robotech universes:
CROW: [maniacally] And we can get from ONE to the NEXT by using JUMBO
COSMOSPHERES!
> Aubry
>Thonon and Peter Walker's Pretoxican universe, Macek's original
>design, and now, my Tkon universe.
>__________________________________________________________
MIKE: I hate these Netscapisms. People should just use <HR>. I mean, it's in
the standard, after all.
TOM: Yeah, sure, Mike. Whatever.
>
>* * *
>
>EPISODE V: Skyward Again
CROW: How far into this fanfic are we, anyway? I'm ready for a break.
BELLDANDY: I don't think it's started yet.
CROW: Oh.
>Chapter X-
MIKE: Slackers Go To War.
TOM: [importantly] This fanfic is rated X the Unknown. Absolutely no one
admitted, mitted, mitted...
> We ride into battle on our steeds of war. Soaring higher and
>higher to the peak of perfection. To defend, to uphold
CROW: Hey, this is the opening montage from "Reboot!"
TOM: Let the Mads overwhelm us with a _fanfic_? I don't _think_ so.
> and to observe
>the individual right of freedom and peace.
CROW: And now it's "Babylon 5"!
>-Mongol Squadron Motto, circa 2078
>
> They enticed as the maids of Samarkand, and brought barbarianistic
MIKE: When this guy uses suffixes, he doesn't mess around!
>passion to the order and peace of the Halls of Peking.
TOM: Peking is Peiping.
> From North to South,
>from Manchuria to Laos,
BELLDANDY: From Satchel to Page?
> they left their mark on all.
> They were the Mongolians, Riders, Warriors, Beautiful.
TOM: Oh, right, except for the innocent civilians they trod underfoot as they
hacked their bloody way across medieval Asia. We're not in for 407 lines of
glorification of war, are we, Mike?
MIKE: Well --
TOM: Because if we are, I could just go and read that Tom Clancy novel the
Mads sent us.
BELLDANDY: [alarmed] No, Tom! You have too much to live for!
>-adapted from The Tartars and the Yuan, an epic by Sir Aaron Toland,
CROW: [sarcastic] Oh, an _epic_ by _Sir_ Aaron Toland.
>Worcestor 1998, used as a opening paragraph to Colonel Hirota's
>Recall Oh-One, One General's Autobiography,
CROW: So, uh, y'think Colonel Hirota will run for President?
MIKE: Naw, he just wants to sell more copies of his autobiography.
> published New Randall
>House, 2245
TOM: Remaindered New Crazy Eddie's Buck-A-Book Shop, 2246.
>
>* * *
>
>Looking out on the field of glory, the fields of hell and death, to
>which even death seemed preferable.
CROW: Uh, if you see a verb, Presley, hop on.
BELLDANDY: [dubiously] So, to sum up, death is preferable to... death?
> The game played for lives, and
>only the quick, the most apt tactician would survive.
MIKE: Oh, it's just NetDoom. Really, some people take this stuff too
seriously.
> The major difference in tactics of the Neo-Robotech Wars and her
>predecessors was the fact that strategy was not played in the "shoot-
>out" traditionalist methods pioneered by the Zentraedi and
>subsequently adopted by the space-virgin Terrans.
CROW: Sayyyy... naah, too easy.
> Now, in this age of
>higher-manueverability and the first Robotech War to actually pit
>Earth against an enemy not technically superior, it had boiled down to
>one point, the mind versus the mind.
MIKE: Which meant that in this fanfic both sides were in deep, deep trouble.
> The weakest enemy Terra had ever
>faced now posed to be their greatest threat.
TOM: Static cling! Who would have thought...?
> In a war that had gone
>on for longer than many remembered, for what reasons no one cared, for
>what instigation no one thought existed.
CROW: Like, say, Robotech III: The Odysseus Epic. What did _we_ ever do to
deserve it?
> It was preferable this way, Jadi decided to herself, positioning
>herself in her enemies footholds.
TOM: But then, Jadi was a bitter, lonely woman...
> Shouting out an order through the
>radio, she gave an order
TOM: [whispering] What's going on?
BELLDANDY: [whispering] I think she's giving an order.
> for the newest fighter squadron of the
>Imperial Forces, the Dyushan, to launch.
CROW: [as fighter pilot] Okay, but who are you?
> Their mecha, of the same
>name, had been developed from the Pariah, the Valkyrie, but most
>importantly, the Marduk.
TOM: Their speech, too, had been, overwhelmed by, most importantly, the
commas.
> It was moditransformable, but standard mode
>was a sixteen-point-one-five meter Battloid, wielding the dangerous,
>bat-like features
CROW: [deeply] We're Batman.
> that made the new Pariah Strikers feared,
TOM: [baseball announcer voice] Now coming onto the field-ield-ield, your new-
ew-ew Pariah-ah-ah Strikers-ers-ers!
> but a
>completely new weapon. Its fighter mode included a splinter-wing
>design,
MIKE: So-called due to its tendency to come apart in flight.
> and a more gothic copy of the fearsome GU-23 and GU-56
>autocannons still in service on the Confederation side.
CROW: Let me guess. You get shot by them, and immediately start wearing black
and pretending you're a vampire?
> War, she savored the word,
MIKE: Mmmm... war.
> the sacrement of her family.
TOM: Sheesh! I called it. Glorification of war, right there.
CROW: So... we're about three chapters into this fanfic now?
BELLDANDY: It's more like a page.
CROW: Oh.
>
>* * *
>
TOM: Oh my God, it's full of stars!
>When the H'than left the Corron Empire to found their own influential
>circuit,
MIKE: Previously, on "The Odysseus Epic."
> they neither abandoned their loyalties to blood, nor the
>Imperial Family. However, the relation the H'than held in the Corron
>Government
CROW: [bellowing] In the name of the Second Corron Empire!
MIKE: Never do that again.
> allowed them a freedom that no internal family would
>possess, the ability to simply "not" tide the biddings of the Empress
>and her Arbitrary.Council.
TOM: [shaking his head] I understand each individual word, but...
> This would be the beginning of one of them. Five-hundred million
>miles from the Corron border to the Giovanni Stretch,
BELLDANDY: [perkily] Okay, everyone! Do the Giovanni Stretch...
[...Everyone stretches...]
BELLDANDY: ...And now relax.
[...Everyone relaxes.]
> the H'than
>bordered the edge of the frontier towards the Galactic Barrier and the
>space closest to Earth itself.
CROW: Okay, wait a minute. He says that the H'than, whoever _they_ are, are
500 million miles from the Earth border. Now a light year is 5.8 _trillion_
miles long. That means these guys are only, umm, a little less than one ten-
thousandth of a light year from Earth! That's inside our own solar system!
TOM: I'm down with that, Crow. And in fact the planet Jupiter orbits only 483
million miles from our Sun. That means the H'than, the Corron border, the
Giovanni Stretch, the Galactic Barrier, and the Terran border are all barely
farther apart than Earth, on average, is from Jupiter!
CROW: [triumphantly] So we reach the inescapable conclusion: as far as
science-fiction writers go, our friend Presley Cannady not only is no Isaac
Asimov, he's barely L. Ron Hubbard! Q.E.D.
MIKE and BELLDANDY: Wow.
> Only fifteen hundred lightyears from
>earth space,
CROW: Forget it, Presley. You're just digging yourself deeper.
> she had a chosing the the ripest colony worlds based
>along her border.
TOM: Red Alert! We have a grammar sequencer overload! The syntactical
structure field is going critical!
MIKE: You've been watching "Star Trek: Voyager" again, haven't you?
> Many, of course, were heavily fortified planets,
>requiring a small flotilla at least to subdue.
MIKE: Arrgh! "Masters of Orion" is just too _difficult_ for me!
> At this time, such a
>force would no doubt be met by Confederation retribution,
TOM: [as admiral] Blair, you and Paladin are going to go after those Kilrathi
transports. You'll be flying Rapiers...
> and from
>recent events leaked by H'than "liaisons" in the Corron intelligence
>network,
MIKE: _Dangerous_ liaisons.
> such a move could prove disasterous.
> Only a handful of the feudal military lords of the H'than Empire
>Council knew of the Ko'irl.
CROW: And fewer even cared.
> Captain Second Class Arnoa Touko was not of the H'than mainstream
>family, but of one of the fifteen smaller families that followed this
>progidal third of the Corron race into the deeper ends of undeclared
>space.
TOM: This reads like a James A. Michener novelization of "Fugitive Alien."
CROW: Yeah, with Stephen Ratliff copy editing.
> This uniquely pivotted them between a seemingly insignifgant
>planet Earth,
MIKE: We Earthlings never get any respect, y'know? It's always "insignificant"
this and "backwards and warlike" that...
> once targetted for future expansion of the new H'than
>Empire, but suddenly found reproachful
CROW: [as Inigo Montoya] I do not think that word means what you think it
means.
> when the blue-green world's
>rapid technological advancement took an unprecedented turn.
TOM: Yes, humanity's too-early development of the inside-the-eggshell egg
scrambler threw the aliens' war plans into disarray!
> As if
>heralded by the Founder's themselves,
CROW: Oh, and suddenly we're in "Deep Space Nine".
MIKE: [bemused] The founder's _what_? Bar and grill?
> Earth had suddenly been caught
>up into a role that played down the Corron expansion into space to a
>mere trifle in comparison.
'BOTS: [as Corrons] We're not worthy! We're not worthy! We're scum!
>
> For now, they would wait, and they would strike decisively, and
>place Hara and Hw'ith once again at the center of the Universe.
MIKE: But for Arnoa Touko and her H'than Empire, there would be another day...
>
>* * *
>
CROW: Hey, wait a minute! What _about_ Captain Touko? What the heck was the
_point_ of all that?
>Earthdock, 23,000 kilometers over the surface at Lagrange Point Trojan
>Alpha
TOM: I call NO WAY! Earth's Lagrange Points aren't 23,000 kilometers above its
surface! Mike, tell him!
MIKE: Shh, it's okay, Tom.
>October 4, 2173
CROW: The year the Great War... ahh, forget it.
>"Slow to impulse power, point-four lightspeed," the first officer
>ordered.
MIKE: And the audience is stunned by actual dialogue!
> The helm responded, quickly complying to the order as the
>streaking stars slowed to their normal, realspace value. The Farragut
>glided across the orbits of Mars and her two moons as their homeworld
>came in sight. ETA, fifteen minutes.
CROW: This is just like an E. E. "Doc" Smith novel, except it sucks.
> "Earthdock control, this is Farragut, code Naval Starship
>Designation One-Seven-One-Eight-Mark," the communications officer
>signalled.
MIKE: It's the U.S.S. Farragut, the wackiest ship in the fleet!
> "Approach vector at point-four light speed to Apex Point
>Delta."
TOM: Helm, set a course for ROMANCE!
> "This is Earthdock Control," the reply came back.
BELLDANDY: [as "Earthdock Control"] All of our operators are busy right now.
Please stay on the line. Your approach vector is important to us.
CROW: [awed] You _do_ work in Technical Support!
> "You are clear
>for apex approach. Prepare to slow to thrusters for planetary
>intercept."
MIKE: What's with all this preparing? Just go!
CROW: Right, sir. Just go!
> This continued for the next ten minutes as the behemouth starship
>was guided inward towards home. As the blue world that served as the
>ark for the survivors of homo sapiens, Earth, or more commonly Terra,
TOM: "Steve" to its friends.
>began to show the true relativistic size and insignifigance of the
>small piece of universal matter that the Farragut actually was.
CROW: You are nothing, mon!
> Even
>so, the view was spectacular if not breathtaking.
TOM: [sarcastic] Oh, I'll bet it _really_ strains the special effects budget
of this _fanfic_.
> Rear Admiral Thomas Satie, commander of the starship, onboard
>RDF/REF and ship-sponsered Squadrons, and a member of the Committee of
>Fleet Deployment,
ALL: A good friend.
> glared hostily at the screen as his own homeworld
>increased in size.
TOM: Stupid homeworld! I hate you forever!
> Just off to the right, basking in the glow of the illuminated side
>of Earth's growing aphelion orbit,
CROW: AAAH!! Earth's orbit is growing! We're all gonna drift off into space
and freeze to death!
TOM: Crow, relax.
> was the Earthdock. Built from the
>remains of Dolza's stupidly humongous starship; the shard's of Little
>Luna, the Zentraedi Factory Satellite;
CROW: The bits and pieces of Vader's Death Star Mark II...
MIKE: The twisted ruins of the factory ship _Nostromo_...
BELLDANDY: The crumpled wreckage of an '83 Buick?
MIKE: Sure, why not?
TOM: Y'know... I can't help but wonder how structurally stable a starbase
built out of random chunks of space garbage is going to be.
> and the Southern Cross Liberty
>Space Station, once the only contact to the outside universe, it had
>an air of nostalgic history to it.
MIKE: ["Minnewegian" voice] Oo, yah, so we took the men and all went down to
Earthdock over the weekend.
CROW: [ditto] There's so much history there, y'know.
BELLDANDY: Wouldn't it be _up_ to Earthdock?
> Its design was new, popular due to
>the practicality its generated when originally displayed during the
>Star Trek phenomona of the late twentieth century.
'BOTS: [just snicker at this]
MIKE: Hey, Presley, it's too late to shoot for a crossover _now_!
> The same basic
>design was emminent, but their were major design changes,
CROW: Design! Design design design design design!
> and the fact
>it dwarfed the fictional starbase nearly 200 times over.
TOM: Oh yeah? Well, _my_ fictional starbase is _500_ times as big as yours.
CROW: Well, mine's ten _thousand_ times as big!
TOM: Mine's a MILLION times as big.
CROW: Mine's --
MIKE: Chill, you two.
> The great station's massive upper-docking ring, a gigantic
>structure stretching seven-hundred miles in diameter, rotated to face
>the incoming vector.
ALL: [start humming the Blue Danube Waltz]
> Smaller ships, fighters ranging from Alphas and
>old Valkyries to Khybers, VT-IIs and Tymanechs, and even commercial
>and civilial shuttles and VT's lined up near and around the Farragut's
>approach, taking advantage of the clearway through the massive shuttle
>traffic through this region.
MIKE: So, is there any particular reason why so many highly expensive and
technically advanced military spacecraft are just wandering aimlessly around
the solar system?
> As the moon passed by and cislunar orbit gave way, one could
>compare Earthdock as Earth's orbiting Venus.
TOM: Oh, no! I just realized it! This fanfic's scientific advisor is Alexander
Abian!
[all scream]
> That planet had long
>been obliterated, nearly altering Earth's own orbit and causing severe
>gravitational distortions for decades afterwards.
MIKE: I bet it made a mess of TV reception, too.
But now, the
>morning star was evident day and night, hovering over Earth as its
>guardian angel.
CROW: At an altitude of twenty-three feet. Talk about your navigational
hazards!
> The massive doors were already opened to fifteen percent of their
>maximum apperature (three-fourth's of the mushroom-like docking cap).
>Hundreds of capital ships could be deployed or taken in at a time at
>just this opening, and thousands of smaller vessels frequently took
>advantage of this commodity.
TOM: [exasperated] Presley, we don't _care_.
> Almost redundant in function, three distinctive beam spread out
>from the axis beneath the upper caps. The Triumverate, a namesake the
>Tirolian designer had given to this section, consisted of three
>circular modules for docking and various other purposes. As with all
>the mushroom-cap and circular modules, living quarters, working
>spaces, and hundreds of onboard-colony cities were spread throughout.
CROW: Did this fanfic just turn into a James Hogan novel while I wasn't
looking?
TOM: Bet you a million dollars we never see this starbase again.
>Each being 250 miles in diameter, they were the largest independent
>structures apart from the axis and the main docking ring.
MIKE: I'm guessing the motif here is "big".
> "Drifting thrusters, three-fourth's reverse,"
TOM: Special punctuation assistance by Kittens on Keys, Inc.
> the captain enjoyed
>riding the horse through the barn door on his own,
CROW: _If_ you know what I mean.
> but knew once he
>reached the mooring perimeter, Operations onboard the station would
>take over with special laiden bars containing tractor diodes.
MIKE: The captain would end his years bitter and alone, nursing his lifelong
grudge against Station Operations. Think about it, won't you?
>"Alright, Goodman, take her in, manuevering thrusters only."
TOM: Sorry, sir, I'm too busy creating game shows.
> "Heading mark 5, course zero-zero-zero Relative," he lined his
>sights,
BELLDANDY: [worried] Do you think the lieutenant should be _firing_ on it?
MIKE: Heck, why not? This fanfic could use an action sequence.
> taking the challenge in stride.
CROW: _Challenge_? This is the 23rd-century equivalent of parallel parking!
> A lieutenent, a seasoned
>officer of the Interfederation divisions, he held respect for his
>commanding officer's confidence. "Slowing delta-v to 2.5 kps."
MIKE: [as "lieutenent"] Slowing plot to 0.01 wps, sir.
> The speed diminished quickly, the massive thrusters of the capital
>ships retro firing as she pulled in, safely.
TOM: It's the biggest interstellar empire around, and the safest!
> "We've got you Farragut.
CROW: [casually] We've got you, Farragut. We've got you...
TOM: BOOM!
CROW: We've got you.
>Welcome home."
> The captain merely smiled at his helmsman, and ordered, "Set
>moorings."
TOM: [as helmsman] Sir, are you high?
>
>* * *
>
>Shoreleave had come quite unexpected at first, and thoroughly
>appreciated.
CROW: Hey, speaking of shore leave, let's get outta here.
TOM: I thoroughly appreciate _that_!
[Mike picks up Tom and they all start to head out of the theater.]
BELLDANDY: [wavering a bit] Mike, all of humans' artworks aren't as
bad as this fanfic, are they? Because if they are...
MIKE: Of course not! Let me show you something...
...6...5...4...3...2...1...*...
[continued in part 2...]