A Darker Shade of Pink

         The new story of war and prejudice by Boddhisatva Troutwaxer

 

Chapter One: A Call To War

Once I sailed through eternity,
Now I got responsibility,
Got promoted yesterday,
I'm a petty officer in ``Bob's'' Navy-
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!

- Ancient Yeti Spacer's Lament

Commodore Kwondat Foom, SSN, supreme commander of Dreadnought Fleet 27, paid no attention to the cold or the snow falling on his shiny black fur. He was walking away from the Court of the Gods, west down Avenida Szukalski from the plaza at the corner of Tesla Highway. Avenida Szukalski was permantly closed to vehicular traffic, which was unusual, even for a street in NuMutantis. The entire surface of the road was one huge video display where the words of the master were continually displayed. Children were brought here on field trips from school, and sometimes spent a whole day chasing the great kook's ideas across the screen. A quote from Behold!!! The Protong cycled beneath him, almost as if it were trying to get his attention, but it was just the giant screen saver's randomization program coming temporarily into synch with his movements.

``The Yetinsyn is about to crush the head of his victim with the hammer (made in the USA), while his right short arm presses the revolver to blow the brain of the Pole out. The revolver ends in the sickle with which to decapitate his victim. I have so arranged the composition, that the legs of the Pole seem to be also the legs of the Moscovite.

However, seeing the sculpture from the right gives us a shock, for the Yetinsyn has no legs at all. Instead, it has the eight blood-sucking arms of the Octopus. Thus I have created a new mythic aberration with which to picture Moscovian world-PARASITISM and Vampirialism.''

Kwondat's calm, slow pace and slumped shoulders would have spoken volumes to one who knew him as the brilliant and energetic yeti who had just been awarded the Silver Kisses of Connie for his victory in the Battle of Epsilon Eridani. Had the same hypothetical friend realized that Kwondat hadn't even noticed the melting snow on his oft polished Golden Dobbshead, that friend would have concluded that Kwondat was in a serious funk and taken him off somewhere for a big pipe of 'frop and and a long talk.

Sadly, in the aftermath of the hearing his lawyer had gone back to hell to join her family for their Xistmas celebrations. A huge crowd of friends, lovers, and fellow officers had offered to attend the legal proceedings, but since a show of support for him might have damaged their careers, he had requested that they stay away. The supreme irony of all this was that he could easily have won - could have grandly and correctly received his just due, had it not been for his once hated fifth grade teacher, Doktor Lizardo, whose interference had saved Commodore Foom from a fate far worse than death.

It had all begun in grade school, when he'd had the misfortune to wind up in Doktor Lizardo's ``Intro to Comic Books'' class. He'd previously been a straight ``A'' student, and he couldn't understand why all his carefully prepared papers received average grades...

``Does anyone else have something to say about X-Men 92?'' asked Dr. Lizardo.

Even years afterward his parents would never discuss the matter with him.

Kwondat Foom paced funereally past a crucified human female hanging from a cross on the grassy "island" surrounding Szukalski's twin sculptures, Law and The Defender. Someone had draped tinsel over the squirming pink bitch, which cried piteously as it pulled against the nails. Normally such sights made Foom hungry and filled him with a sort of spiritual bliss. Not tonight.

He wandered through the oversized intersection where Szukalski's posthumously realized monument, Rooster of Gaul, rose above the nearby buildings. Above the sculpture a moving hologram portrayed dogfighting Xist saucers blasting away at Zist war planets as a pretty bluegreen planet exploded behind them. The lights of the battling spaceships and the glowing planetary fragments formed brilliant, colorful reflections on the lake surrounding the monument, but the most decorated naval hero of his time didn't even notice the space battle raging overhead.

Normally Xistmas was Kwondat's favorite time of year, and when he managed to get planetside he spent lots of time watching the parades, attending the orgies, and enjoying the decorations, but he hardly noticed them tonight. Even the well armed children playing "Sterno and Santa" with live ammo in front of the great kook's magnificent Struggle failed to raise his mood.

He hardly noticed that his beeper had gone off. When the noise finally penetrated his funk he looked down, then took a handkerchief from one of the pouches on his harness and scrubbed at his medals for a moment. He took a moment to get back into the military mindset, then went over to the public MWOWM terminal mounted under a mural sized reproduction of Blessing the New Citizen.

``Commodore Kwondat Foom requesting encrypted and protected connection to Command Alpha,'' he said, coming to attention. A laser interrogated his retinal pattern and a force field which was capable of blocking all the listening devices known to MWOWM's gigantic database rose up and surrounded him. Soon a hologram of Fleet Admiral Fondar formed in front of him.

``Kwondat,'' said the Admiral's image, ``How did the trial come out?''

``Well ma'am, The Holy Giver of Justice, Divinatrix Nickie, has recessed the case until I make certain decisions.''

``I see.'' Fondar frowned, clearly not seeing. ``Does that mean you can return to active duty for a little while?''

Kwondat sighed. ``Yes ma'am. I can't be gone for too long, but as long as I keep The Divinatrix informed it shouldn't be a problem.''

``Excellent!! Is the 27th ready for battle?''

``Ma'am, according to my flag captain we've completed our repairs and are currently loading supplies. Apparently there's some kind of hold up with the new personnel, but subject to replacement of casualties, we will be ready for battle tomorrow by oh five hundred.''

``Excellent, Kwondat. I don't expect we'll be gone more than a week or two. I'll talk with the personnel department myself and expedite your supplies, and my legal department will get in touch with the Holy Giver of Justice. Our scouts report that we've discovered a major, very well guarded Yacatisma repair base on one of the moons of Sirius Four. Unfortunately, the Yacs spotted them, so we have to move before they can bring in reinforcements. The data and orders are being downloaded to your terminal. You'll make the diversionary attack while Admiral Kutar and I come in under stealth from behind the primary. If you can hold their attention for an hour we'll be able to clean them out of this sector for good, and that means medals all around. I'd like you to beam up now, go over your data, and be on my flagship for a conference at oh three hundred.''

Kwondat snapped off a smart salute. ``Yes ma'am!!'' The Admiral's image faded. Medals all around? Pinkshit!!! Unless Fleet had added a dozen or so dreadnoughts to his fleet while he wasn't looking, Kwondat would be lucky if there was enough of him to send home in a pine box. Given the outcome of the hearing, that might be one of his better options.

Of course that pine box thing also held true for Admiral Fondar, a desk jockey who was ``minding the store'' while Grand Fleet Admiral N'harup was inspecting the Zist front. Perhaps Kwondat could talk her into some better tactics. He sighed once more, commed his flagship, and told the captain to beam him up.

 

Chapter Two: The Offer of a Lifetime

I acted like NHGH's evil twin,
The shore patrol they ran me in.
Too much froppin', too much drinkin',
Got promoted, then got stinkin' -
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!

Three months earlier a destroyer which was part of Dreadnought Squadron 27's scouting element had spotted a horde of Yacatisma hell saucers shadowing a heavily escorted Zist supply convoy. The destroyer captain had gotten word back to Kwondat in time for the 27th's dreadnoughts to arrive on the scene. Kwondat had hoped that the Yacatisma would do better against the Zists, leaving them too weak to fight off his own fleet, but the Yacatisma had badly underestimated the two Zist war planets escorting the convoy. Kwondat reluctantly decided that the Zist forces were too much for his fleet to handle, and brought his forces into the system's asteroid belt under stealth, expecting (at that point) only to attack the fleeing remnants of the Yacatisma force.

However, the Zist Admiral foolishly decided to send one of his war planets after the Yacatisma, and after obliterating the Yacs with minimal losses, Kwondat had happily attacked the already wounded Zist target which fate had brought into his grasp. One of the 27th's dreadnoughts scored a lucky hit on the behemoth's forward shield generator, and Kwondat was able to stand off and smash the planetoid into glowing rubble with his Janor devices. With only one war planet left, and facing a more or less uninjured fleet of SubGenius dreadnoughts, the Zist Admiral had surrendered subject to the condition that it be allowed to destroy certain classified components first. Kwondat had accepted the enemy's terms and returned to NuMutantis with a whole Zist fleet in tow.

 

``The thing I like about you, Kwondat,'' said Grand Fleet Admiral N'harup, ``is that you knew when to quit. There are some ``Bob'' damned fools out there who would have told the Zist Admiral she couldn't have the terms of surrender she'd requested. And do you know why these commodores and admirals wouldn't have let her have terms?''

``No sir.'' Kwondat reached into the pen and grabbed a squealing human baby. He bit off the top of the child's skull and licked the brains out of the cranial cavity with several of his eight inch tongues. He and Admiral N'harup were relaxing in the Flag Officer's Lounge after the medals ceremony. The Fleet Admiral took a long hit and jabbed at Kwondat with his pipe stem.

``Damn fools would have been worried that I might think they were insufficiently aggressive, or they might have worried about what the media said, or about their place in history. Fuck 'em all with rotting vulture necks!! And of course you know what would likely happen to shitheads like that, don't you? Of course you do. They probably would have won, though they might have lost against the other war planet, but regardless, their ships would have lacked sufficient delta vee to tow anything home. They would have had to scuttle that Zist supply train and settle for bringing home some samples....''

``You, on the other hand, slacked off, and as a result you brought their whole damn fleet home. I approve. I heartily approve.''

``Thanks sir. I appreciate that, particularly coming from you.''

``You always were a good student.'' Admiral N'harup had been his tactical instructor back at the academy, and had followed Kwondat's career ever since, lending a hand where he could. ``Here, let me re-light your pipe. A hundred centuries in space, with Dobbs given superpowers, you'd at least think we could engineer a strain of 'frop that didn't go out every time you looked at it.'' The Admiral was sitting beneath a video wall, which currently showed the famous picture of Tesla reading a book by the light of his magnifying transformer. Of the two great kooks, the Navy tended to prefer Tesla to Szukalski, perhaps because the Janor Devices mounted on their ships were weapons grade refinements to the Tesla Coil.

``Now listen,'' said N'harup, I didn't invite you back here just to have a gab. I've got some news for you, and maybe a big opportunity if you want it. Are you aware that one of the Gods has fallen?''

Kwondat made the ceremonial gesture of mourning. ``No sir, I wasn't.'' When one of the major gods fell it was usually kept secret until a replacement was found. ``Which of their divine eminences has gone beyond?''

``Her Holiness the Divine Friday Jones has gone MIA. As you know, she was a staunch advocate of deific primacy, and she decided to intervene on the Zist front. She blew up several Zist planets, caused one star to go nova, and attacked their regional HQ near Vega.''

``What happened?'' asked Kwondat, as he pulled the sandwich cart closer and reached for a GLBT sandwich.

``The Zists opened a wormhole to their prime nest and brought out three brood mothers of the warrior caste. There was quite a battle and one of the brood mothers died, but Her Holiness was severely injured. At the end Friday apparently had backed into the star itself and was draining its material to fuel some kind of major attack. A Zist cruiser nearby had survived and they fired off some gravity bombs, which collapsed the star around her.''

``So she's not literally dead.''

``No,'' answered Admiral N'harup, ``but she's stuck in the center of a fucking black hole. None of the gods have yet grown into the kind of power needed to get her out, so The Holy Giver of Justice, Divinatrix Nickie, ruled that her seat in the hierarchy needs to be filled.''

``I see.'' said Kwondat. The philosophy of Divine Primacy said that the gods should go to war against ``Bob's'' enemies themselves, and that it was an act of inferior hate to send proxies - such as the navy - into any kind of important battle. Naturally followers of that philosophy were major enemies of any big expenditures on behalf of the armed forces. This made the question of who would replace Her Holiness an issue of major importance to SubGenius Space Navy. ``I imagine that they'll raise someone from the Clench of Demigods into the hierarchy and fill a lower vacancy.'' Kwondat mused, ``Who's being considered?''

``The last major vacancy, two centuries ago, was filled with a Holocaustal, so by tradition, an Ivangelical gets it this time. I hear they've settled on Sri Devi Beledi Ma to take over her post.''

``I like it sir,'' said Kwondat, ``she's a big fan of ours.''

``Exactly. The Divine Primates are much too busy dealing with their own leadership void to get involved in politics right now, so I think we've got a good opportunity to get a naval yeti raised into the Synod of Demigods.''

``Not to contradict your judgment sir, but this is way above my level,'' Kwondat commented, ``so why are you telling me about it?''

``Because I'd like to nominate you for Godhood.''

Kwondat looked long and hard into his old friend's eyes. ``You're serious, aren't you?''

``Damn right I'm serious. The papers have made a big thing about your recent victory, and the public already knows about how you handled yourself at the Battle of Tau Ceti. Of course, your making the list of most demented bachelors didn't hurt, and your writings are well known for their lovely brand of black humor. I think you'll be a popular choice once the void in the Hierarchy is filled and we can announce the nomination publicly. Even if you don't win, you'll still come out of it looking good. Are you game?''

Kwondat thought back to his fifth grade year. Everyone knew that gods were expected to have imperfections, not ordinary imperfections, but divine imperfections that resonated throughout space and time, making them at one with the manifold imperfections of the universe, but one imperfection was not tolerated. Ten thousand years of experience in raising mortals to godhood had proven that a person who didn't understand and enjoy the great comic book classics would be a terrible failure as a god.

Kwondat looked his mentor in the eye. ``There may be problem,'' he confessed, ``I got a ``C'' in my Intro to Comics class. They may not accept me.''

Admiral N'harup looked evenly at him. ``Did you know that Doktor Brunk made copies of your senior paper and made us all read it? He still uses Hidden Erisian Symbolism in the Background Art of Nine Inch Worm Comics as an example to cadets of just how it's done. I wouldn't worry about it.''

One of the Tesla Coils which lit the room made an odd buzzing sound and erupted in an intricate display of light. The sight made Foom think of the superstition held by the Navy's enlisted men; that Janor Devices and Tesla Coils opened brief windows to the future, and would reveal the fate of one who gazed into them long enough. Kwondat didn't share the superstitions of the enlisted men, but he knew his boson would tell him he'd just been blessed by lightning...

``...and you're a popular choice,'' the Admiral went on, ``and the worst they'll do is put you so far down on the list of nominees there's no way you'll actually get the nod.''

``Well sir, if that's what you think, lets do it.''

``That is what I think. Now listen, my wives want to help you celebrate your new medal. Why don't you put on that ladies lingerie they like so much and beam over to my place? Miza's already inflated the rubber sheep and Komora was saying something particularly rude about your pituitary glans''

 

Fleet's Terrible Error: Gufak Mizar, NuMutantis News Services

In an inexcusable violation of all the traditions of doing deific business, our planet's Navy has nominated a yeti to godhood who barely rated a ``C'' in his Intro to Comics class. For those of you out there who don't know, a god can be deficient in Spelling or Mathematics, ignorant of Celestial Geography, and even bad in bed, but a deficiency in his or her understanding of comic books is literally just about the end of the world.

Does anyone out there know why our nearest galactic neighbor is a stellar nebula? Does the name Brok Faslo mean anything to you? Eight thousand years ago he was promoted to demigod and decided to ``help'' the hapless inhabitants of Praxis Four, human level primates who lived on a planet which was a little to small to hold its atmosphere over time. ``I'll just change a little of the nitrogen to oxygen so they can breathe better,'' he thought, ``and make them a little smarter so they can invent domed cities and oxygen makers.'' What Brok Faslo didn't realize was that these little primates were aggressive motherfuckers. The oxygen Brok had provided gave them lots more energy, and they immediately went to war with each other, inventing in very short order, gunpowder, atomics, and finally hyperdrive. In the end one of their badly designed battle buggies went into warp too close to their own star, which went nova, turning their home world into a airless cinder. Brok Faslo's worshipers turned against him, and with only their contempt to fuel his now godly nental ife, he ended up taking his place as a failure demon, living a sad life consuming Satan's shit and fueling the thoughtless behavior of others.

There are a couple of other tragedies I could mention, but this is the classic case. Had Faslo been a comics reader, he would have realized from the beginning that the good guys only use their powers defensively - the bad guys are always trying to ``help'' humanity, or mutant kind, or some alien race, and in doing so they become dangers to everyone around them - something always goes wrong for them and the world, galaxy or universe is endangered. The proper role of a god is to hang out, get slack, and serve as a moral example unless one of our planets is threatened and our fine navy can't handle the foes. So when the Navy nominated someone for godhood whose report on X-Men 92, a classic tale of superpowers gone wrong, had gotten a ``C-,'' I was naturally appalled.

Now there are those who will tell you that Kwondat Foom is a war hero many times over, a well groomed snappy dresser, and a sexy ubermale with gorgeous brown eyes whose tongue work is spoken of reverently by the hordes of widows he has comforted, and they'd be right on all counts. I've met him, and he's a nice guy who deserves the best rewards our society can offer, like the promotion he deserves and a bigger fleet to go with it. Perhaps the Admiralty should give him some of those new superdreadnoughts we keep hearing about. He's a good yeti, and I have no doubt that he'll produce the victories we need if our society is to survive this war as anything but a source of food for Zist larvae.

But to whatever extent a Commodore's morale is important - and history indicates this is an issue even for officers of high rank - Foom's hopes shouldn't be raised, then dashed by a Naval High Command that can't tell the difference between an excellent tactician and a god. Thus I must take issue with the Navy's judgment. They know better than most of us what the issues are, and in the aftermath of the terrible end met by Her Holiness, the Divine Friday Jones, should have had better sense than to nominate someone for godhood who bids likely to share her fate.

* * *

``I'm sorry Kwondat,'' said Admiral N'harup, ``I didn't realize it would be like this.'' Kwondat and his mentor sat in the Commodore's apartment on the south end of Tesla Highway, gazing gloomily out the window. Every once in awhile the sputtering street lamp outside would shed some light on one of Tesla's less successful attempts to design a turbine. Sometimes, on his way home after dealing with some naval SNAFU, Kwondat would stand before the little shrine to Tesla and put his hand on the ancient prototype for a few minutes, relaxing into the rusty metal's aura of noble failure, and grant himself or his underlings absolution for whatever fuckup had befouled his day. This evening though, the ancient turbine hadn't been able to offer any comfort.

``Yessir,'' sighed Kwondat, who was more angered by the whole business than he was willing to let on, ``and that's one of the nicer commentaries on the whole thing, though,'' and here he looked significantly at his superior officer, ``I did like the part about the superdreadnoughts.'' Kwondat really wanted to be miles away, safely anonymous amid the crowds that swarmed through the great plaza to the north, where Avenida Szukalski met Tesla Highway and four immense magnifying transformers illuminated the great artist's Monument for the Mermaid of Warsaw. Anything would have been better than sitting here with his altogether too patient father figure reading all the bad things the pundits had written about him since the Admiralty announced they were nominating him for godhood.

The Admiral ignored that sally. ``Fame's a fickle bitch, isn't she.'' Sometimes N'harup overdid the tough old campaigner bit.

``Yeah.'' Kwondat had been looking forward to the parties and ``ordeals'' that would accompany his nomination to godhood, particularly the mandatory interview with The Holy Uberslut, Susie the Floozy, but it was starting to look like he might have to put those thoughts away forever.

``Sir, the thing that really pisses me off is that I've been an ``A'' student all my life. The only ``C,'' I ever got was in that Intro to Comics class, and that was because Dr. Lizardo hated me.''

The Admiral suddenly looked very intent. ``Why do you say that?''

``Because I can't think of any other reason for his behavior, sir. He never called on me once throughout the entire year, he praised the same answers I would have given, and when I had a friend turn in one of my papers it got an ``A'' and some very nice comments.''

``Okay,'' said N'harup, ``I'm going to have our legal department look into that. The op-ed pages are beating the shit out of us over this, and the navy can't take that kind of thing lying down; we'd risk our funding. I had Doktor Brunk release your senior paper on Nine Inch Worm Comics to the media this morning, and he may be releasing some of your other work in the Comics field. We've got some friendly voices responding to the shit we're seeing in the papers, and we may have to put you on MWOWM for an interview.''

``On the other hand, if it turns out there's some indication of prejudice against you by Dr. Lizardo, who despite his pretensions to be an ordinary teacher, is one of the gods, we just can't go that far. We'll tell you what we find, but if you want to fight it, you'll have to do that on your own.'' Following this pronouncement, Admiral N'harup took his leave, and Kwondat was left alone to contemplate the flurry of public attacks on himself, his commanders, and the Navy he served. Finally he reached for his phone, called the combination restaurant/whorehouse across the street, and ordered Chinese, requesting that it be accompanied by a woman who wasn't very bright.

 

Chapter Three: A Stop At Yac In The Box

I asked the Judge to grant me bail
This was an effort doomed to fail.
``Son,'' he said, ``the party's over,
Stay in the box 'til you are sober''
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!

``Has the random seed for the Janor Devices been set?'' asked Kwondat. Janor Devices were tricky, and their fire control computers needed to be carefully randomized, usually with the aid of an enormous ``seed'' number generated from a carefully chosen file. A longstanding Naval superstition held that the only files which really worked were digitized songs that St. Janor would have liked. Statistical evidence tended (very slightly) to bear this out, though Kwondat frequently had opined that a funny song which gave frightened yetis who were about to do battle a good laugh was the real secret of fleets whose Janor Devices were ``happy.''

``The Chief Petty Officer has, after consultation with the oracles, chosen There's A Party In My Pants And Everyone's Invited Butt Me.'' replied his flag captain over the intercom. By tradition, the senior CPO of the squadron or fleet about to do battle chose the song to be used. ``It's a very good tune.''

``I've never heard it.'' said Kwondat. He sat on the admiral's bridge of his flagship, the Amassiah, with only his new scan tech, a lovely female named Rege, and his comm officer Cecora for company. Kwondat didn't like having a large staff around him while he commanded an action, so most of the entourage that usually followed a flag officer around was seated in the auxilery bridge.

``Its an old lament written only a couple millenia after the destruction of Earth,'' the captain explained, ``It tells about a guy who's just gotten his first promotion, and he can't attend the party in his honor because he was taken to jail by the shore patrol. However, a friend smuggles his dicks out of the can and they go to the party without him. Even thought it's written as a lament, they usually play it at quadruple time in some sort of punk mode. Naturally, we'll put it on the intercom just before going to action stations.''

Rege laughed, and Kwondat looked severely down at his scan tech. He generally liked his subordinates to stay quiet during a battle unless their input was vastly important. ``I'm sorry sir, but I got a kick out of the Captain's description of the song. It seems like a quite appropriate tune given that a fleet as good as the 27th is handling the divirsionary attack.''

Kwondat tried to maintain his frown but couldn't. ``There is that,'' he said, breaking into a smile. Handling the diversionary attack did rankle. Though Kwondat had gotten Admiral Fondar to agree to a set of tactics which was much more intelligent than the ones she had originally intended to use, he was far from happy over being left out of the main attack. His irritation had kept him from feeling ready to take on the Yacatisma, and Rege's observation lifted him out of his funk.

The 27th had left warp a full light day from Sirius Four, and the dreadnoughts had hung back while the scout cruisers found an appropriately placed comet head in the Oort cloud around that system. They'd dropped an engineering crew off on the rock with orders to set up some automatic fixed defenses and inflate lots of cheap temporary buildings, and left a couple fuel carriers and an obsolete mobile repair yard in orbit around that same frozen body, which some wag had dubbed Rock Nar. Hopefully the Yacatisma would think Rock Nar was a Subgenius base which had been set up in their system. Kwondat didn't intend to give them enough time for analysis to reach any other conclusions. Half the 27th had hidden in the shadow of a rock a little closer to the sun than Rock Nar, while the other half broke into squadrons of four capital ships plus escorts and went looking for the Yacatisma patrols that had to be out there.

Finally Squadron 27.4 under Senior Captain Bukar had taken out a couple Yacatisma carrier saucers only twenty million miles from the Yacatisma base. The last report stated that her squadron was being hotly pursued by the smaller of the two Yacatisma hordes based in this system. Once Bukar had lured the Yacatisma a significant distance past the system's warp limit and the 27th engaged the enemy, Kwondat would signal Admiral Fondar, who planned to drop out of warp on the other side of the horde and race for the Yac repair base.

Meanwhile, Kwondat was frantically preparing for battle. The 27th was badly outnumbered. The departure of the raiding squadrons had left him only twenty dreadnoughts and two dozen escorts to take on some seventy hell saucers of varying sizes plus a couple hundred single being fighters. He would have to keep the Yacatisma in play for an hour or two to give Fondar a chance to blow past the defenders and destroy the base. Worse yet, Kwondat's half of the 27th couldn't use active sensors without giving themselves away.

``Sir, I'm picking up vibrations from a damaged - I'm sorry, two damaged Janor devices. We're looking at maybe five or six seconds between detonations. They're approximately one hundred million miles out and heading this way at a little less than light speed. Looks like about nine minutes out. Check your number four.'' Rege was patched into a string of stealthed observation satellites that orbited the cometary body they'd hidden behind.

Kwondat looked down at his tactical repeater. Bukar had chosen a course that was a little less than optimal for his purposes - not that she had much choice - which would give the Yacs a look at his fleet fifteen seconds earlier than he would have liked. Ideally, the Yacs would blow past him at high speed, still in pursuit of Bukar and Squadron 27.4. The twenty dreadnoughts he had retained would fall in behind them and force the Yacs to deal with attacks from at least two sides. In a perfect world, some of the Yacatisma would stop to either scout or attack his fake base, leaving him a smaller horde to deal with, but that was a long shot. Regardless, those fifteen seconds were an eternity in a light speed engagement, and if the Yacatisma officer in charge of that horde got the idea that he was either the victim of a trap, or that he was being distracted from an attack on his own repair base, bad things would happen.

``Cecora, please signal the fleet to move west about twenty miles.'' The rock they'd hidden behind wasn't very big. ``I want to end up over this crevice.'' He indicated the location with his cursor. ``Thrusters only, use minimum power. Pass enemy course data and any refinements to fire control. I want to hit them just as they come over our horizon.'' The comm officer acknowledged and got to work. Kwondat hoped to saturate the enemy's tracking while his portion of the fleet got up to speed. A Yacatisma hell saucer could decelerate very quickly, and there would be nothing for he and Fondar to do but retreat if he couldn't both distract the Yacs and get between them and their base.

Kwondat turned back to Rege. ``Are you picking up any wotron detonations?''

``Just a couple faint ones, sir, then they stopped. I hate to say it, but it looks like Bukar's getting her ass kicked.''

``Yacatisma are just like sharks.'' The voice of Kwondat's flag captain came in over the loudspeaker, ``They'll go after anything that looks like blood in the water. Bukar may or may not really be wounded, but we'd sure like the Yacatisma to think she is.''

An anxious few minutes passed, then the tech said, ``Sir, I'm beginning to pick up some Yac drive traces - Looks like Bukar just killed one - no, its breaking up into smaller traces and so is another one. Sir, we've got at least six Yacatisma troop ships out there.'' That was the true horror of the Yacatisma - an engine able to push a superdreadnought with nothing attached to it but a pilot's cabin and a framework of girders that looked for all the world like an old fashioned electrical tower twenty miles high. As many as a million killer robots, ranging in size from mile high warbots, each commanding a horde of smaller machines, to nanotech colonies that attacked silicon, copper, or any of the other molecules an industrial civilization depended on would be hanging onto those girders, ready to explode off their perches and savage anything in their path.

``Inform the fleet that we have Yac troopships out there and have them take the usual precautions.'' Kwondat ordered the comm officer. ``Inform the second and third light cruiser squadrons that after we go in pursuit they are to engage troopships and warbots only. Also Cecora, please order the captains to have heavy arms distributed to all crew and tell all engineering staffs of all ships to expect nano-warfare.''

``Sir,'' said Rege, ``Course change from the Horde. They're heading right at our fake base. They're assuming a new formation. That's odd. Commodore, please see your number six.''

The Yacatisma horde had formed a sort of ring shape, with the spawn of two troop ships in the middle and out front by about two light seconds. The ring itself was sort of leaning, almost lying on its side. ``You're right, that is an unusual formation,'' said Kwondat, ``Any thoughts?''

``Sir, perhaps they're expecting a fleet on the other side of Rock Nar.'' the tech said. ``This slight lean to their formation would make sure that everyone came over the horizon at a different time, allowing them to fire without the risk of hitting their own ships on the other side of the ring, and the opposing commander's estimate of their forces would always be off. And even if Bukar was giving reports, she probably wouldn't see that the ring is on its side.''

``And Rock Nar's hypothetical defenders would initially be aiming their salvos in the wrong direction - very good.'' said Kwondat. ``Now what about those troopships, why are they way out front?''

``Maybe they're assuming that our fake base has command and control?'' Rege asked. ``They think if they hit it everything goes to pieces?''

``That's it. Captain, please see that this young lady is given an extra ration of 'frop from my own stores after the battle.''

``Thank you sir,'' said the tech, looking deeply into his eyes, ``but I'm no lady.'' Kwondat's twelve dicks (commodores got more penises) stirred briefly in their sheaths. It would certainly be an excellent evening - if both of them survived. ``All right. New orders for fire control. I want to hit them two seconds after the leading edge of that ring passes Rock Nar's horizon. We'll start moving just as that first group of warbots hits our fake base's fixed defenses. Also, blow that fuel carrier the second it takes even the smallest hit, and blow the second fuel carrier half a second after that. I want them crossing Rock Nar's horizon good and blind. Weapons free as of now. Helmets on and check suit integrity.''

A few minutes later it was time. ``Sir, Bukar just came into visual range. Yacatisma are six light seconds out and closing.''

``Move and fire on my mark...'' Kwondat watched his scanner closely, ``Now!'' The bobyon drives kicked in with a smooth surge of power, and the first Janor Device barrage cut loose with a series of harsh electrical screams. After his ears adjusted Kwondat began to hear the steady ``Whup! Clank!'' of wotron torpedoes being loaded into their tubes and fired. The initial salvos were disaster for the Yacatisma, who had expected the attack to come from behind another asteroid, and they lost several escorts, four hell saucers, three carrier craft, a troop ship, and several dozen single being fighters. The Yacs recovered quickly and fell into a more defensive formation, their healthy ships supporting the ones with battle damage. However, Kwondat's forces were behind them now, and the Yacatisma were continuing out-system, perhaps hoping to destroy Bukar's forces first, then turn on the rest of the 27th. That was when Bukar's ships tuned their Janor devices back to the correct settings, put their torpedo launchers back on line, and started pounding the Yacatisma with three fists of Subgenius Naval fury.

``Sir, the Yacatisma are dividing their forces. One troop ship, a couple hell saucers and some escorts have accelerated at slightly over their rated power and will overtake Bukar in approximately forty seconds. The rest of their horde is heading back toward us. Yacatisma carriers are launching attack craft. The other two troopships are heading for this battlegroup, but have not yet released their bots. Our escorts are responding.'' There was nothing to be done about that. If he ordered any more escort vessels to guard the Amassiah, or shuffled the four ships of Amassiah's battle group around, it would be just like screaming out the location of his flagship to the Yacs.

``Cecora, signal our squadron to move a couple thousand miles further behind our escorts.'' It was the best he could do. ``Rege, what about the other troopships?

``You mean the two that were attacking Rock Nar? They're out of it, sir. No way they can catch us now.'' A huge anti-matter explosion kicked the Amassiah to one side. The flag bridge rang like a bell and the control boards went out, then turned back on again a split second later. Thank ``Bob'' for the yeti who'd finally gotten the idea of sticking a breaker between the control boards and the sensors mounted on the hull. When ships took a hit these days, the control boards didn't explode, the breakers simply reset.

When the blast had cleared a little and sensors could function again, Kwondat's repeater showed that the Yacatisma had slowed enough to come in among the units of the 27th and engage them ship to ship. Normally getting in close was a good tactic for a superior force fighting an inferior force, but in this instance it was a little foolish of the Yacs. He and Fondar desperately needed this diversionary battle to become a close range slugging match, damage heavy and difficult to break away from. The Yacatisma had just granted their fondest wish.

``Signal Fondar that we are fully engaged. Inform our raiding squadrons that they are to support Fondar's attack on the Yacatisma base. New orders for all squadrons. They are to engage single Yac ships only long enough to do serious damage to their engineering sections, which should be the targets of all weapons, then they are to pick an unwounded target. Assign each squadron a quadrant and have them clear it.'' Once again, it wasn't the optimal tactic, but it would make this battle last a long, long time. ``Rege, how's Bukar doing with that troopship?''

``She's taken it out and destroyed its escorts sir. It looks like she's coming to join us, but her squadron's currently maneuvering around the debris cloud.''

Kwondat turned to his comm officer. ``She won't get here in time to be of any use. Cecora, tell Bukar to hit those carrier craft forming up half a light second out on our Z axis while they're re-arming the birds after their first attack, then if she's got anything left, I want her to help 27.6 with that big knot of hell saucers at grid 204 mark 7.''

``Yessir.''

``Commodore,'' said the tech, ``Those troopships' escorts have destroyed our escorts and the troopships have released their bots. We have Yac warbots on a direct collision course with this ship. See your number seven.'' Kwondat looked down at his repeater. The warbots were just a few seconds away, too close for him to order Amassiah's battle group to either maneuver away from them or attack as a unit. If Amassiah moved on her own she would give up the defensive advantage of being part of a coordinated battle group, leaving his flagship easy prey for any Yac squadron with a competent commander. The choice was obvious, but far from easy to make. ``Cecora, please tell Captain Umer that she is in charge of the battlegroup, which will maneuver without Amassiah until we have repelled the warbots.'' If they repelled the warbots. Odds were against any of them surviving.

Worse, Kwondat would have to give up tactical control. Yac nanobots could infest either a computer or a person and make it give improper orders. ``Inform Bukar that she is in overall command as of now. Have her get us out either an hour from now or when all Yac ships have significant drive damage.'' He pushed the talk button on his intercom. ``Captain, please blow all comm gear except for the dumb beacons, free all weapons for ship defense against Yac warbots, and prepare to repel a boarding action. You are free to maneuver independently.'' He paused a moment. ``Is there anything I can do to help you fight your ship?''

``Pick your weapon sir.'' The captain's voice cut off. He had more important things to worry about than a commodore who had just become nothing more than a passenger.

Kwondat unshipped his favorite weapon, ``Old Betsy,'' a sawed off plasma cannon which his father had given him in middle school after he'd been teased by the other children. ``Will this do?'' he asked no one in particular. There were a lot of good memories in that gun. Rege grinned wildly at him, settled a belt of charge packs around her shoulders, and took a heavy blaster in each hand. Cecora pulled a belt of heads out from under his battlechair and fed them into a Gordonworks ``Nine Iron'' shoulder firing launcher. The heads were the bright blue which indicated that they emitted an EMP pulse. When this type of head detonated, it released a magnetic storm that destroyed sensitive electronics and IC chips. Even a near miss with these weapons could take out a well armored, medium sized Yac.

Despite their bravado, this was as bad as it got, and they all knew it. The ship's Janor Devices, now under individual control instead of supporting fleet actions, would be hammering away at the bigger war machines, and wotron torpedos would be set to explode in the middle of the vast cloud of robots currently circling them like a swarm of angry bees. Despite the thousands of battle mechs these huge instruments of destruction would obliterate, the thousands of warbots which survived would open the flagship like a tin can, attempt to take over their communications gear and weapons, then kill everyone inside.

The ship lurched sickenly to one side, probably in a last ditch attempt to avoid the biggest concentrations of warbots. The lurch was followed by a thump as their ship made unwilling contact with a mile high robot shaped a little like a T-Rex. Then came a sound like the screaming wrath of Connie as giant clawed fingers ripped armor plating and three decks of shield generating equipment off the side of the Amassiah, exposing (among other things) the flag bridge and three scared yetis to the thousand warbots pouring off the giant mechanical beast. Kwondat and Rege poured fire into the huge mechanical saurian while frantically dodging the attacks coming from its smaller minions. Finally, a burst of energy from Kwondat's plasma cannon penetrated the battle mech's armor and the comm officer launched an EMP head into the huge robot. It churned to a halt above them, and they turned their attentions to the hundred or so mini-bots that poured out of the giant's death wound.

Light flared all around them from hundreds of huge explosions as the doomed ship sent a self destruct command to its own weapons - weapons that Yacatisma nanobots might reprogram to fire at Subgenius forces. Janor devices obliterated themselves in one last overpowered burst of ball lightning, and wotron torpedoes exploded in their launchers. The blasts destroyed most of the robots on the hull, and there was a brief break in the mechanical carnage; a few frantic seconds in which battle crazed yetis were able to jam fresh powerpacks into their blasters or run madly for better cover.

Kwondat rushed across the room and threw himself behind a damage control console as a second wave of robots rushed the flag bridge. Blaster fire and Yacatisma ion beams ricocheted off the bulkheads, Kwondat's comm gear went out in a shower of sparks, and a dozen warbots died when one of them tore out the conduit to the main power coupling. The three yetis fired blindly in the dark until the secondaries cut in, then took aim at the giant, six armed, mechanical NHGH that tore the charred robotic reptile away and hurled it into space, smiling crazily down at them the whole time. Rege managed to put a lucky blaster slug into one of the robot NHGH's eyes, which exploded, spraying hot metal in all directions, and the comm officer frantically launched more head at the wound. Kwondat couldn't help them, he was firing madly at a horde of mechanical spiders that had came boiling up out of a ventilation duct. He fried eleven or twelve in a row, then missed the smallest one as it dodged in a direction he hadn't expected. It didn't miss him. The targeting laser for the warbot's slug thrower penetrated his helmet and his left eye exploded in a blast of steam and gore that covered the inside of his helmet. He fanned the plasma cannon desperately as he-

 

Chapter Four: A Pleasent Consultation With His Lawyer

``But I'm having a celebration,
Just to mark my elevation.
Your honor please will you relent?''
But he said no to my special event.
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!

The evidence was surprisingly easy to find. Kwondat got a call two days later from Bulida, one of the succubi in Fleet's legal department. ``I made a MWOWM query,'' she said, squirming lusciously in her chair, ``and all the information we wanted was under security seal. However, I'm a firm believer in assembling my own data, so I found out the names of the schools at which Dr. Lizardo has taught, and found excuses to ask for data on the students. I told the schools in the more recent cases that I was doing background checks for classified positions, and told the ones from further back that Fleet was doing a long range study. Once I had enough data together, I subpoenaed everything else, and ran the data through a computer that doesn't have a MWOWM connection.''

``Dr. Lizardo has had a very interesting career. It seems that at first he took on only the most advanced students, basically people who were godhood candidates under the old system, and took them to as high a level of knowledge as a yeti could reach before submitting them to WorJudge Raghead for approval. Then something happened, no one knows what, and he quit his post to start teaching at colleges, then at exclusive private academies, then anywhere that would take him. Naturally, he gets accepted to any position he applies for. He apparently does brilliant teaching work then moves on after a year or two. There's no correlation with any single factor we could find, but when you put the two factors together - black fur and real genius level brilliance - you start to see something, a pattern of people who have an ``A'' in every class they ever took, except whatever Interpretation of Comics class he's teaching. These people have all gone on to have brilliant careers in sales, finance, the arts, the military, etc., and a huge percentage of them have been nominated for godhood, but each of them has gotten shot down for one reason and one reason alone. Can you guess what that is?''

``A ``C minus'' in their Comics class?''

``Exactly. Of course, there are only openings for godhood every hundred years or so, and not all of the nominees have black fur. I suspect that most folks just write it off to coincidence - if they pay any attention at all.

``But what does the color of my fur have to do with it?'' Kwondat asked. Any given yeti might be any of the colors of the rainbow - the genes were all there.

``What you've got to remember is that the gods were all raised on Old Earth. The humans back then had some very odd ideas about how certain colors were better than others.'' Bulida replied, ``It was called racism.''

``I don't understand, they all taste good to me.'' said Kwondat.

``You weren't a history major, were you? What I'm saying is that some of the humans, the light colored ones, for example, had this odd belief that they were morally better than the brown ones or the black ones. They also believed that they were smarter, more pure, closer to god-''

``But that's why we keep them in cages,'' Kwondat objected, ``because they have such animalistic ideas, and are incapable of rational thought. What does this have to do with me?''

``Look at your fur. It's beautiful, - sorry that was unprofessional - but it's also black and as curly as any fur I've ever seen. What I'm trying to tell you is that Dr. Lizardo probably doesn't want any black furred people to become gods because he was raised in an atmosphere of moral horror on Old Earth. You have to remember that even the most enslackened SubGenius from before the Xists came had mostly human DNA. Even Philo Drummond himself had DNA that was only 3.86 percent yeti. The Xists rescued the DNA, filled in what blanks they could, and poured minds that were basically human into yeti bodies. I suspect that some of the attitudes remain, even millennia later.''

``But this is ridiculous. No one has thought that way for thousands of years.''

``No one except the gods and apparently some of them hate... oh what did they call them... niggers.''

``Hate who?'' By now Kwondat was just plain foundering. These human ideas were just too weird.

``Thats what they used to call humans with dark skin and black curly hair. They called them niggers. It's not a nice word at all.'' The lawyer brushed the hair back from the horns on her head. Despite his confused state of mind, Kwondat's heart skipped a beat. Some of his best nights had been spent with succubi. The combination of mortal danger and sexual prowess really got him off.

``But that's how I look,'' he said, ``Do you think I might have DNA from these dark humans?''

``Maybe. Most of them came from a continent called Africa on old earth. Any ancestors from there?''

``I'd have to look it up. But how do you know all this?''

``It's a classic case study in how to fuck up a planet. If you'd gone to high school in Hell you'd have learned all this stuff.

``I thought everybody went to high school in hell?''

Bulida laughed, her eyes glowing a lovely shade of red. ``Listen, I can tell you right now that Fleet isn't going to pursue this. They've got much too much to lose. I'm Sorry.''

``Listen,'' said Kwondat, ``why don't you print out a hard copy of the report and we'll discuss it over dinner.'' She couldn't help but accept. Succubi never turned down a date. Kwondat hoped that this one, who was obviously trying hard to break off the conversation, might let a few things slip. ``I'll send out and we can go over your material at my place.''

Many hours later, dinner eaten and small talk out of the way, Bulida snuggled up to him and rested her horned head on his shoulder, ``My suggestion, should you survive the night with me, is that you call my cousin Neba. She's got a practice on the corner of Avenida Szukalski and Kossey Way. She studied legal history for centuries before she went into private practice, and she's the only lawyer I know of who might even know what a prejudice case is.''

``Do you think I've got a chance?''

``With eight thousand years of statistical evidence to back you up? You've got as good a case as any I've ever seen. I've run this by Admiral N'harup as well. He's all for you filing the case, he hopes you win, and he won't object if I accidently leave a copy of this highly classified printout at your place, but he'd like you to wait until he leaves next week to inspect the Zist front before you initiate legal action, and hopes you'll take a leave of absence and file suit as a private citizen.'' The political reasons for such a thing were obvious, but he still felt a little like he was out in the cold and far from home. Practically speaking it wasn't a problem. Most of the 27th's dreadnoughts would be in repair slips for some weeks, and he could trust his staff to handle the naval paperwork, so he would enough free time to do whatever he wanted.

``Has anyone ever sued a god and won?''

``If you're smart you'll avoid that. Instruct Neba she should only request that the court overturn your Intro to Comics grade on the basis of the school not protecting you from instructor prejudice. Your suit will be against the school district only, and Dr. Lizardo should not be added to the list of defendants in any way, merely called as a witness, otherwise it gets dismissed instantly. Mortals simply are not allowed to sue the gods. I can't tell you much more than that. It's just not my field of law.''

Bulida ran one of her perfect toe nails down the inside of his hairy calf while simultaneously tonguing his ear, ``I'm afraid I've lost interest in the law for tonight. I'm much more interested in finding out whether you're as good as your reputation...''

Kwondat smiled slowly, opened his mouth, and kissed her with one tongue. He used two other tongues to lick both of her ears, and ran his remaining tongues over the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulders. One of his prehensile penises reached up between her breasts and undid the snaps on her push up bra, while the others reached beneath her and cupped her butt, lifting her onto his lap. He put one hand under each thigh and stood up. She wrapped her legs around his torso and he carried her into the bedroom. ``Sound system on.'' he said, instructing the house computer, and the speakers mounted under the mattress cut loose with Hellpope Huey's Music for a Demented Evening.

``Oh dear,'' said the succubus, ``I think I'm going hungry tonight.''

 

Chapter Five: Corrective Phrenology at the High Court

So I languished in the hole,
An innocent victim of shore patrol.
Sat on the bunk and stared at my feet,
I was missing my own party!!
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!

``The Grand High Court of the Gods will now come to order.'' Goro the Bailiff pounded the judge's gong with the Iron Pipe of Justice. ``All rise in honor of Her Supreme Majesty, Magistrate to the Gods, The Holy Giver of Justice, Divinatrix Nickie.''

``Hit the floor little toads.'' said the Divinatrix, as if it was an everyday matter to her to make a shitload of high officials kiss the ground, ``All of you except Lizardo, who happens to be a god himself, can just grovel for a few minutes while I fucking get settled in. How ya' doin Liz?''

``Fine Nickie, fine.''

``This is the third time we've been here for one of these, isn't it?''

``I'm afraid so.'' said Lizardo, ``Last time was back in 4657, wasn't it? Some kid named Grof Bandor got a hold of all the material I expect we'll cover here today.''

``I ordered the MWOWM records sealed back then, didn't I?''

``That is the decision we made, isn't it.'' It was not a question, and hearing the defense's star witness chat amiably with the judge while he and his lawyer licked the carpet didn't make Kwondat feel sanguine about his chances in this court. ``Still,'' Lizardo went on, ``I guess it doesn't stop someone from doing their own research, does it. Unless we want to be high handed, I suppose we'll have to put up with it every few thousand years.'' Lizardo let out a deep and heartfelt sigh.

``That's what I'm thinking,'' said Judge Nickie. ``Okay everyone, you can stop kissing the rug now. Let's get this show on the road. The case is Kwondat Foom vs. the New Dobbstown Unified School District, and said case has been bucked up to this court without a decision by any lower court because it involves issues relating to godhood, which only I am allowed to decide.''

``Alright, just in case someone doesn't know why we're here, I'll sum it up. Dr. Lizardo, a god, has decided to dedicate his time to the instruction of mortal children. His reasons for doing this are his own, and are not germane to the proceedings of this court. Kwondat Foom, on the other hand, has enjoyed an excellent career in the Subgenius Space Navy, and his nomination for godhood was recently turned down on the basis of his fifth grade Intro to Comics grade.''

``The prosecution in this case claims that seventy two years ago Kwondat Foom, who received excellent grades in every other class he's ever taken, received a grade of ``C'' in the class taught by Dr. Lizardo, not because he deserved such a grade, but because Dr. Lizardo was prejudiced against Kwondat Foom due to the nature and color of Commodore Foom's fur and facial features. They claim this occurred due to the bizarre conditioning Dr. Lizardo received at the hands of humans when he inhabited a human-like body back on Old Earth. According to the prosecution, the New Dobbtstown School Board had an obligation to protect Foom from Dr. Lizardo's emotional problems and habits, in which trust they failed, and pursuant to this they should retroactively change his grade to an ``A+'' and transmit said change of grade to the commission which evaluates nominations for godhood.''

``The defense claims that the prosecution has no authority to change or challenge the decisions of a god, and that Dr. Lizardo performed his work perfectly while he was their employee. They further insist that Commodore Foom is using an ancient and no long applicable legal doctrine to change retroactively a grade caused only by his poor performance in said Intro to Comics class.''

The Divinatrix Nickie sighed, put her head down into her hands for a few seconds, then lifted her head and spoke to the lead attorney for the prosecution. ``Okay, Ms. Neba, I presume that you have dozens of expert witnesses lined up who will testify that Kwondat Foom's fifth grade papers are brilliant examples of student work that did not receive the grades they deserved?''

``Yes your honor.''

``You may send them all home.''

``But your honor-''

``Shut up or I'll send you straight to hell. My hell, not yours.'' It was not an idle threat, and Kwondat got the idea it didn't matter in the least that his attorney was already a demon. ``Ms. Neba, I also assume that you have collected all the essays submitted seventy two years ago by Foom's classmates and are prepared to have these expert witness demonstrate that Foom's papers were competitive with the best of them?''

Neba, looking a little hurt and confused, indicated a pile of data chips on the table in front of her. ``They're right here your honor.''

``You will not use them.'' The chips burned for a few seconds and melted into a heap of slag. Kwondat stared in horror at the smoldering pile of what had once been evidence in his favor. ``I also assume that you have reams of statistical evidence purporting to show that Dr. Lizardo has treated all brilliant children with black fur and dark eyes in the same prejudiced manner with which he treated Commodore Foom?''

Neba very carefully and slowly reached into her briefcase and put the thick print out on the table. It turned into a white bird with a thick bill and large feet which flew squawking around the court room. Kwondat stared raggedly at it. His case had literally gone up in flames and flown away.

``I've been missing parrots for the last couple hundred years,'' said the Divinatrix Nickie, ``Ms. Neba, do you have any other pieces of evidence to present?''

``I have some ordinary witnesses, your honor.''

``They are excused. The defense is also excused. However, the defense's keeper of records will stand ready to immediately execute the court's lawful order in this case. Commodore Foom, you, your attorney, and Dr. Lizardo will meet me in my chambers. Everyone else is dismissed.''

``All rise.''

 

``Okay, is everyone comfy?'' Her Supreme Majesty, Magistrate to the Gods and Corrective Phrenologist, The Holy Giver of Justice, Divinatrix Nickie, had a palatial set of chambers. When they entered Kwondat looked through one door and noticed a desk, which was surrounded by the expected MWOWM terminals, chairs, and tables. He wasn't in that room, nor was he in the alcove with the formal dining set, nor was he seated on one of the couches, love seats, or chairs in the lounge that looked out over the plaza. He, his attorney, and his ex-fifth grade teacher, The Holy Doktor Lizardo, were seated in the hot tub, which oddly enough also functioned as a giant water pipe. Servants were bringing in a variety of foodstuffs, which ranged from chilled baby's back ribs to breads and cheeses, to an assortment of sweets that covered most of their serving cart in a carpet of chocolate a foot thick.

Kwondat nodded, ``Yes, Divinatrix.''

The Divinatrix Nickie had carefully filled a huge container with the 'frop of the gods, and she was now struggling to attach it to a complicated coupling that led to several hoses. Doktor Lizardo held a yellow rubber bird in his prehensile toes and gave it a squeeze every few seconds, upon which it emitted a squeak. The noise was beginning to grate. ``This is what they gave little human children for a bath toy back on Old Earth,'' Lizardo said. ``Kids would sit in the tub and squeeze these things for hours. It was one of the lessons the conspiracy taught - that a little thing being attacked by a big thing had no defenses, that all it could do was to squeak. Note the juvenile lines to the face and bill. Children were not only supposed to play with it, they were supposed to bond and identify with it. The lesson was that if you were attacked by something bigger, you had no recourse, all you could do was make a piteous noise. Later on in life when kids realized just how big the conspiracy was, most of them just gave up. Almost none of them took effective offensive action. Quite different from the toys we give children today, isn't it?''

``I suppose so,'' said Kwondat, thinking a little unenthusiastically about all the times his toy porcupine had hurt him. He really wasn't here to talk about the history of toys, and his fantasies for the last few days had related to the terrible things he'd do to Lizardo when they both became gods.

``Never mind Lizardo,'' Nickie told him. ``In the next few minutes he's going to have to talk about something very uncomfortable, so he's trying to distract himself.'' The huge container of god 'frop was in place now and the weed was beginning to burn. A giant dome came down over the sauna area, and the bubbles coming up from the hot tub were smoky and filled with the rich scent of the sacred herb. ``Would you like some baby's back ribs?''

``Yes, Divinatrix, thank you.''

``No need for you to be so formal. If nothing else, your excellent performance in that latest battle would gives you the right to a certain relaxation in our presence. Dr. Howll has been going over the data from those Zist war planet's you captured, and he's quite pleased with you.'' The Goddess turned to his attorney. ``Ms. Neba, I assume that you understand the concept of attorney client privilege?''

``Of course.'' Neba was still pissed about watching her evidence go up in smoke, and her voice was a little cold.

``You are to give it the most fanatical interpretation possible in this case.'' The Divinatrix reached under the water and held up one finger, upon which balanced a truly gigantic bubble filled with 'frop smoke, ``Or else-'' she blew on the bubble and it burst, wafting a little cloud of herbal goodness over Neba's face.

``I understand completely.''

"Not yet, but you will. We will be discussing godly misbehavior this morning Ms. Neba, and I strongly suggest that you forget what you've heard. This also goes for you Commodore Foom. What you're hearing today is not to be discussed with anyone but the people in this room. Also, Commodore, please pay close attention to what you hear. Later, you will tell me how to rule, but not until you've heard the story and had a few days to think it over.'' Foom nodded. The Divinatrix's words about how he would control the ruling might have made him happy under other circumstances, but it was obvious that he had stumbled into something that was much different under the surface than it had initially appeared, and given the level of rank and privilege at which he was now operating, a misstep would have serious and possibly deadly repercussions. There was an uncomfortable silence, but before it could grow oppressive the Divinatrix Nickie gave reached over and gently took the rubber duckie from Lizardo's hands. ``You're up, old man,'' she said.

``I - I suppose I am,'' said the god, looking for a second every bit his age. ``Kwondat, I have only ever had one pupil who was smarter, more talented, or more well rounded than you, and she's been dead for almost nine thousand years. Let me show you her picture. MWOWM, please give us a holo of Ona Rano, no sound.'' A three dimensional picture rose up from the surface of the water. As it solidified, Kwondat's old teacher carefully closed his eyes. The holo showed a lovely female yeti standing in a relaxed pose, brown eyes in an angelic face, her fur a blanket of dark shiny curls that gleamed under the photographic lights. Her eight lovely breasts were ordered in descending size down her brawny chest, and her legs were slightly bent, with long and lovely prehensile toes spreading from the most appealing pair of footglands Kwondat had ever seen. On her head she wore the diadem of a scholar, and her harness showed military medals, as well as badges of outstanding merit in the arts and several sciences. Doktor Lizardo let the holo hang in the air for several seconds, then turned it off.

``You might look her up sometime. Among other things, she designed the building we're in now, and laid out the plan for the city center. She never quite attained your military rank, but she made it to Senior Captain before receiving an injury while 5th Fleet held off the Yacatisma hordes so the rest of the Navy could escape that terrible trap at the First Battle of Orion. At the time regeneration was still not available in its present form, so she received a medical discharge and went back to school. When she'd attained her third doctorate she was accepted into the Academy of the Chosen, which was a sort of last training ground for those who might one day be called upon to serve as demigods. I was teaching there, and that's where I met her.''

``Kwondat, I can't begin to convey just how bright this woman was. She made a few simple changes to the circuitry and added twenty percent to the range of the Janor Device. She was the first person to accurately describe the Zist life cycle, and one of the few people who wasn't a computer that understood their language. She could make intricate and terrible puns in Yacatisma machine code. She bred several new types of 'frop and doubled the number of penises and clitori which can fit into the yeti genetic code. She designed and programmed the infinite video display that projects the words of Szukalski and Tesla onto the streets down there, and she was the one who cast and built those projects which Szukalski had only designed on paper. Take the shuttle over to NuAmsterdam sometime, there's a street named after her too, and it's decorated with her art and writings, which are just amazing.''

``You've seen the holograph of her. As you can tell, she was also physically beautiful. Between her brains and her looks I was sure I had found my yeti lifemate at last. I'm sure there were others who felt the same way, but I was the one to whom she chose to give herself. We lived together for many, many years in utter bliss, then Sterno was killed in that first battle with the Zists. We hadn't expected that; just the day before he was killed it had appeared that they would agree to exchange ambassadors. Naturally, he took the closest Zist fleet and several of their planets with him, but in the end - well, we were just inexperienced, I guess.''

``As the most advanced student at the Academy of the Chosen, Ona Rano was next in line to join the demigods, so she took her thirty dollars and went before WorJudge Raghead. At that time, we didn't spread the propaganda about how the WorJudge ``chose'' people and represented the final barrier to godhood. We didn't need to. He just did a strictly ceremonial challenge and response thing, then ushered the new god into the Place of Transformation. Only five people had previously been initiated to godhood, and quite coincidentally, we had never before initiated someone with black fur, so we didn't expect it to be an issue. Ona and I were thoroughly pleased that she had been chosen, and we were looking forward to spending forever together. She had some wonderful plans for weapons to be used against the Zists, stuff that would make the Janor Device and the Wotron torpedo look like stone age projectiles. Once she attained godhood she would have been healed of her injuries and able to go back into battle. We imagined her commanding a fleet of war planets that could completely crush anything the Zists might throw against her, and expanding the empire of ``Bob'' to the furthest reaches of the Galaxy.'' Lizardo stopped for a moment and stared down at the water.

``What happened?'' asked Neba softly.

Doktor Lizardo kept looking down into the tub. When he started speaking again his voice was so low they all strained to hear him. ``I'd had some money in my wallet when the saucers picked me up from old earth. I gave her thirty real American dollars and sent her down the aisle. Raghead looked angrier and angrier as she came closer to him, and none of us knew why. I guess we just assumed that he was pissed over Sterno's death and was preparing to give her a harder time than he gave the usual initiate.

``She reached Raghead and said,``In the divine name of Dobbs I present to you my thirty dollars and request that you accept me into your company.''

Raghead was supposed to slowly and ceremonially count the money and tell her, ``Not all are worthy to join us. Tell me, have you tasted of the prairie squid?'' and there was a whole question and answer thing they were supposed to do. Instead he got even madder and threw her money down on the floor. ``Oh shit,'' he said, ``It talks. The nigger speaks. I thought when I left Old Earth I'd be done with niggers, but I've got a spearchucking, jigaboo ape in front of me and I don't like it.'' Most of us were in shock, and some of us started forward to grab him and calm him down, but we didn't have a chance. I-'' Lizardo swallowed hard as terrible emotions washed across his face. ``We-'' He buried his face in his hands and drew great ragged breaths of 'frop smoke.

``He has trouble talking about this part,'' said the Divinatrix Nickie, ``so I'll take over.'' She sighed and put one arm around Lizardo's shoulder. He clutched at her hand like he was dying and kept staring down at the water. ``Some of us got up and headed toward Raghead. We wanted to reason with him, wanted to explain that this was not the time to be concerned with ancient racial rivalries because the Zists might even now have a fleet headed our way, but we didn't have time. Raghead reached out and ripped her head off her shoulders, just like a child might decapitate a doll. As she died he whiffed her soul, just pulled it within him and ate it up. He was within his legal rights to do so because she was still mortal, but it wasn't right. The truly terrible thing is that a couple hundred of the gods cheered this act. In fact, some of them had helped plan it. Most of the cheering came from the front section of the auditorium. They'd packed the seats so they could keep anyone from getting up quickly enough to make Raghead vomit out her essence. Even a thousand years after the death of Earth and the subjugation of the pinks, some of us still held onto our human conditioning. Konig was sitting behind Dr. Lizardo, and he hit Lizardo in the head with a burning cross. It was months before Lizardo felt well enough to attempt to avenge Ona Rano's death.''

``Those of us who were appalled by this execution immediately started toward the front of the room with murder on their minds, but then ``Bob'' spoke. ``There will be no war among the gods at this time.'' He said it very quietly, very seriously in all our heads at once, and we all just stopped. ``There is another Zist fleet headed here now, and two dozen brood mothers of the warrior caste are accompanying them.'' He assigned Raghead, Konig and Raghead's other supporters to the task of stopping the invasion. I think he was hoping they'd all get killed, but they didn't.'' She fell silent for a moment.

``I could hear her.'' Lizardo's voice was very low. ``Even for centuries after she died, I could hear her inside him. I could hear her screaming. I could hear her calling me, not in words, she had no more words left, no more mind, but I could hear her.''

``Lizardo has maintained that for a very long time.'' said The Divinatrix.

``So why didn't you do something about him?'' asked Kwondat.

``Many of us wanted too.'' said the Divinatrix, ``I wanted too. But when he and the other survivors got back from the war with the Zists they'd had lots of reason to strengthen their powers and they'd gotten lots of experience. They were just too powerful. If you've read the history of the period you'll know that they spent almost a century fighting nearly every day just to push the border with the Zists back to where it is now. That's a lot of time to practice. When they came back even the most powerful among us was a ninety eight pound weakling in comparison. Also, by then the Yacatisma had recovered their initiative. The Zists still had an immense amount of depth to play with, almost half the galaxy, and they were still pressing us, so we've really had no time to deal with the whole problem. The Deific Primates try. Their whole philosophy on getting rid of the Navy is really meant to make the gods go out and fight for themselves and become as strong as Raghead and his followers. They've had some successes, as you know, and every once in awhile they'll convince one of Raghead's supporters to go out with them. Usually the diety in question doesn't come back for some reason. I suspect they've been fragged. The first time that happened ``Bob'' and a couple of his disciples flew off in one of the Xist saucers and didn't come back. The whole business of him going off to free other oppressed people is a crock. He was just sick of us.''

``Since he couldn't do anything about Raghead without getting killed himself, Lizardo went out into the field to keep other dark furred yetis from getting torn apart and soul sucked. He's spotted god candidates as early as kindergarten and sabatoged all of them. The whole business of comic books is a hoax, a sham, something propped up for the Kwondat Foom's of the world to blame. It's also something Lizardo can give people a ``C'' for that won't affect their chances for any career less than godhood. We've faked up some statistics and gotten some horror stories into the history books, but the whole thing's really meaningless.''

``And every few millennia one of the very best of you puts it all together and shows up here,'' said Lizardo, ``and I have to tell the whole story over again, and watch people like you, people who could really make a difference, learn that there is a ceiling to their ambitions. I hate it. And just so you know,'' his old teacher went on, ``I did my best to kill him the first chance I got. He stuffed me face first into a barrel of old, dead eels and kept me there until they turned to compost. That was the first time. The second time he let me beat on him for awhile. I think he knew that I needed some kind of outlet for my fury. Just when I thought I finally had him he grabbed me by the neck and told me he'd had enough, then he pulled out my eyes and skull fucked me. I've found other ways to deal with him since then. Other people have tried to change things too, and he or his racist buddies have beaten them to a pulp. They even killed couple of people.''

``This is not the rule of law,'' said Neba, ``This is not the best thing for my client.''

``No shit,'' said Nickie, ``This is not the best thing for any of us. How do you think I feel knowing that my sacred and holy office is at best an ironic joke? All I really get out of the damn job is a nice place to put my stuff.''

``My suggestion to you, Kwondat,'' The Holy Divinatrix went on, ``is that you go out there and kick some Yacatisma butt. Kick lots of Yacatisma butt. You want some of those superdreadnoughts Gufak Mizar was talking about in that editorial, I'll make sure you get them. You want to be a full admiral, you got it. If you manage to get through to their main base in Orion and take it out, I guarantee you some action on the whole Raghead front. We can probably fight his supporters and win a one front war simultaneously. I'm willing to take that risk. We can't fight Raghead and his supporters and also fight a two front war. The Yacs and the Zists would kill us. At this point, if it's just your ego that needs your grade changed, I'll take care of it, and I'll set things up so you go on the list of candidates, but not anywhere near the top.''

``Another option is getting yourself involved in a hopeless battle. Die this time and your next incarnation might have lighter fur and blue eyes. Go into the navy again, do some good writing, some good fucking, some intelligent comic book interpretation like you've done this time around and your next incarnation might get in. It's happened before.''

``On the other hand, if you feel for some reason that you have to hand Raghead your thirty dollars, that you have to die to make some kind of point, I'll set that up too. Walking up to that infinitely more powerful someone and saying, ``Or kill me!!'' is every yeti's divine, Dobbs given right.''

``Lizardo and I are getting out of here. I can stall things for a week, maybe a little more if you need that long to think it over. You and Neba can stick around awhile. Maybe your lawyer has some good advice for you. At least you can suck down some more 'frop, have something good to eat, and fuck in the hot tub of the gods.'' There was a flash of light and the two deities were gone.

``Shit.'' said Neba. Kwondat agreed. Neither of them felt much like fucking, and the 'frop had gone out.

They got out of the tub and sat on the Divinatrix's couch. Kwondat spent a few desolatory minutes looking for his apartment, just so he could avoid the othe issues, but it was too far away from the Halls of Justice to be visible. ``I don't have any really good advice for you,'' said Neba. ``You have to decide just how you want to expend your energies. The only court that would take the case at this point is the court of public opinion, and I don't think the Divinatrix will like it if we appeal to that court.''

``That,'' said Kwondat, ``is something of an understatement.''

``Yeah. Do you know what you want to do?''

``Not yet. I'm still taking it all in,'' Kwondat looked out the window for a few seconds. ``I do brilliantly in space battles. Throw something new and strange at me while I'm on the flag bridge of a dreadnought and I'll kick its butt. I understand the Zists. I've even made the occasional joke in Yacatisma, though I can't make an intricate pun, but this business of fur color is just totally alien to me. I just don't know what to do. I don't even have a good question for you at this point.''

Neba sighed. ``Kwondat, I'm sorry it's ending up this way, but, if you really don't need me right now I'd like to go home. It's Xistmas eve, and the children would really enjoy a couple extra hours with their mother. Do you mind? You can call me up if you need me.''

``No, of course not,'' said Kwondat, ``Most of my family was killed in the Zist raid on NuLemuria, and my surviving sister and her kids are on vacation for the holiday. I can't tell you how much I regret the times I left my parent's house a few hours early on Xistmas day, or came in late due to some nonsense at the office. By all means go home and spend some time with your family.''

``Oh Kwondat, I wish I could take you home with me for the holidays. I think you really need to be with people right now, but we both know just how long your organic body would last in hell. I'm so sorry. This really sucks.''

``I'll be okay,'' he said. ``I just need some time.''

He spoke the incantations that sent his lawyer home and went out into the hallway, where he got into the up elevator by mistake. He was in such a funk that on the way back down he ended up in the sub-basement and had to be escorted out onto the snowy streets by one of the janitorial robots. He had planned on walking home, but he ended up on Avenida Szukalski by accident, and wandered aimlessly down the street until Admiral Fondar beeped him.

 

Chapter Six: Aftermath

(Bridge)
But the Judge granted me this mercy,
Got a visit from my friend Timmy
Who said he'd come to take my glands
Into the promised party lands
Smuggled my dicks into the barracks
They did things that I found scary
Penis number one escaped its cage
Penis number two flew off in a rage
Penis number three is in your cunt
Penis number four is up your butt
Penis number five went after the judge
Penis number six can't hold a grudge
Penis number seven took me to heaven
And number eight wants to masturbate
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!

Kwondat came to slowly. His head hurt like hell, and he could feel some kind of goop pouring off his face and pooling on the hard, cold surface beneath him. He tried to blink and discovered that only one eye worked. Memory came flooding back. ``Is anyone there?'' he asked. He didn't think turning his head was a good idea. He heard someone scooting across the floor, and there was Rege sitting next to him. He realized with some shock that she was missing an arm. The stump had been crudely cauterized just above the elbow, and she was wearing some kind of pain control tech on her shoulder.

``Just me, sir,'' she said, and tried to came to attention with her remaining hand.

``At ease. Relax. Where are we?''

``We're waiting on decontamination, sir. After Cecora bought it I grabbed you and jumped. Lost the arm on the way out but the suit was able to seal around the damage. We were picked up by one of Bukar's small craft after the battle.''

``Who won?''

``We did - sort of. The 27th and the Yacs pretty much tore each other to scrap - Bukar's ships are in the best shape, but most of the fleet is going to need months of yard time. Fondar took their base with relatively low casualties, then she sent some reinforcements to clean up and search for our survivors.

``What's left of the 27th?''

``I'm not sure. They won't be giving us any details until we've been scanned for Yac nanobots. Obviously our raiding squadrons are in pretty good shape, though I was able to confirm that they lost at least two ships while taking the Yac base. Of the ships that were out by Rock Nar with us, there are only a few left. Seven badly injured dreadnoughts and maybe a dozen escorts.''

``I expected worse.'' Kwondat wanted to ask a more questions, but he felt awful. He closed his eyes for just a moment...

 

...he was wearing the red robes of the initiate, and he held ancient and crumbling thirty dollar bills in his hands. The bills were so old they actually had pictures of humans printed on them. He was surrounded by chanting gods holding candles. They acted like they were unaffected by gravity, floating at all angles, each dressed in a white robe. They were chanting something from the Book Of The SubGenius in an ancient human language. Though the gods weren't affected by gravity, he was. That would change soon enough, when he became one of them. He walked past Sister Decadence, under Cardinal Sin, around Reverend Yukon Jack... Finally Stang himself long gray hair drifting off in all directions cranked open the ancient hatch and he passed within.

Suddenly he was in a white, triangular room made of some rough white stone. Deep voices chanted, ``Bol Bog, Gan Bog'' over and over again. The walls were bowed slightly outward. Directly across from him, standing a few feet out from the wall opposite, was a flat, vertical triangle made of the same white stone as the walls, which rose to an apex just under the ceiling. Kwondat realized with a start that the big white stone shielded an entrance of some kind. For some reason he was terribly frightened of whatever was behind the big stone triangle. As he watched in horror, a huge, white, octopoid tentacle reached out from behind the stone, and it was soon followed by another, and another. Riding these tentacles was the huge, white furred, muscular form of the Divine WorJudge Boss Raghead. It was confusing. Why was Raghead riding an octopus?

Suddenly he realized that Raghead wasn't riding anything. The God had no legs at all, they had been replaced by the blood sucking tentacles of an octopus, and where each of the suckers should have been was an ichor drooling mouth with white lips and white flesh from which sprouted layer after layer of needle sharp white teeth.

``Bol Topi Nigger,'' shouted the giant octopus god, ``Za-Bi-Ta Nigger Bol. Topi Il Nigger!!!'' Raghead reached out with arms strong enough to tear a planet in half and ripped the thirty dollars from his grasp, then lifted him high into the air and turned him upside down. ``Nigger Topi Il, Bol, Bol, Bol!!'' As Kwondat looked down he could see tiny pieces of the thirty dollars he had planned to give the great WorJudge lying in the ground. It was then that he knew he was doomed. ``Jo Gan Bol Nigger.'' screamed Raghead as he ripped off one of Kwondat's arms. The pain hadn't reached him, but his blood was spurting everywhere and Kwondat was screaming. It all ended when the Worjudge lifted a tentacle toward him and one of the fanged suckers reached for his face and began pulling his soul out of his left eye. As he fell down the throat, he caught a tiny glimpse of Raghead's stomach, where black humans screamed in agony as their souls dissolved, then he began screaming himself, and knew he would never stop.

 

``I'm sorry sir,'' said the medic who was cleaning out his eye socket, ``did that hurt?''

``Not that I noticed,'' said Kwondat, ``it was just a bad dream.''

``Must have been one heck of a nightmare sir. Can't say I blame you after what you went through.'' The medic stopped working on Kwondat's eye and started pulling tubes out of his arm. ``Sir, we've plasmed your wounds together, replaced your lost blood with nanotomin and rehydrated you. Take these twice a day until your eye's been fully regenerated. Doktor Spoog said to let you know that there are a couple thousand yeti triaged ahead of you for the regeneration units. You can claim officer's priviledge, but she requests that you hold off for a week or two. Doktor's respects, would you like an artificial eye meanwhile?''

``Yes, thank you.''

``We'll have one made up for your genotype.'' The medic made an entry in his pocket computer. ``Come on down Weisday and we'll install. At this point we've taken care of all the major stuff, so we'll keep you overnight and release you to quarters tomorrow.''

``My scan tech?''

``She's in bad shape. They're still flushing Yac nanobots out of her, then she'll go straight into regen. Should be all right. Sorry sir, lots behind you, gotta run.'' A sick berth attendant grabbed his gurney and took him to a room.

When he woke up the next morning, he knew just what he would do. As it turned out, he was only half right.

 

Chapter Seven: Your End Game Needs A Little Work

That's how I lost my promotion
'Cause I caused a big commotion
Don't give in to all the hype
No fropping 'til you've earned that second stripe!!
No!
No fropping 'til you've earned that second stripe!!

``I hired the publicist like you asked me to,'' Neba said, ``Have you been satisfied with his work?''

``Absolutely.'' Kwondat was once again in the news. He had sent Neba instructions by fast courier several days before he got back to NuMutantis, and returned to discover that she had spent most of his retirement fund to hire the best publicist money could buy. As a result the news was filled with stories that read like advertisements for his success. ``Foom's Valiant Holding Action Secures Fondar's Victory. Foom Finally Gets His Admiral's Pips'' screamed the headlines on one news site. Another site read ``Foom Promoted After Battle of Sirius IV, Diversionary Strike Keeps Yacs Off Fondar's Back.'' The letters were so big they wouldn't all fit on one screen of his MWOWM terminal. The publicist had also unleashed his magic on the editorial writers of NuMutantis, and they were once again on his side, suggesting that perhaps the ancient and outmoded requirements for godhood be updated in his favor.

Even Gufar Mizak, who had a reputation for integrity and evenhandedness, published an idealized history of his victories, concluding with a paean to the wisdom of the Navy in giving him command of the the Third superdreadnought Fleet.

``So what's your plan?'' his lawyer asked, ``Is this just some sop to your ego, or does your desire for publicity somehow relate to your court case? You do recall that we've been warned off from trying this in the court of public opinion, don't you?''

``Of course,'' said Kwondat, ``and I have no intention of taking you down that road with me. A big part of my planning involved keeping you out of this. We've gotten me into the papers in a very favorable way, and I've done lot of interviews, so now its time for our next step.'' Usually Kwondat played at being shy of the media, but in the few days after this last battle, he had spoken at length with more than twenty reporters. Wherever possible, Kwondat played up Rege's role in saving him and discussed her deductions about the Yacatisma fleet. They had a few wonderful nights together, then the Navy caught sight of how their latest wunderkind was praising a mere scan tech to the skies and sent Rege off to the Officer Candidate's School on NuLemuria. She did deserve the opportunity, but Kwondat also genuinely liked her, and wanted her out of the way while he went out looking for trouble.

``So what is our next step?'' Neba asked.

``I want to adopt a newspaper reporter and make him or her my heir. Warn your publicist on this for me. We want as little publicity on this bit as possible.''

``You want to make a newsie your heir? I suppose I can find someone for you. Do you actually have anyone in mind?''

``Gufar Mizak, if we can get him. Let him know I've got the story of the millennia, but he only gets it if he becomes my son.'' Neba was looking more and more puzzled, so Kwondat pulled up a copy of Gufar's discussion of his injuries:

``Kwondat explained that he couldn't spare the time to have his artificial eye regenerated. ``If we're going to take advantage of the Yacatisma's lack of a repair base, we have to move quickly. I just don't have the time right now to spend several days in a bio tank. I can live with it for a little while if I have to.''

Once Neba read the quote, he told her what he hadn't told the reporter. ``I had the eye fitted with a transmitter and a couple hours of video and audio memory. The Doktor ran a secondary cable from the eye's memory to my auditory nerve. I've got a camera inside my face, but if I want to create a public outcry, I've got to find a way to get the footage to the media. The transmitter might end up being jammed, and the eye might get destroyed, but with both together I've got a pretty good chance of getting the footage out somehow. Of course, my heir will get my body so he can recover the memory and see that the story gets out.''

``I see what you're getting at, but wouldn't you rather live?''

``I'd love to, but I don't see any way to do that other than surrendering to circumstance. Frankly, I'd rather die.''

``I'd rather you didn't. A dead client would do bad things for my reputation. You've done a good job taking advantage of your injury, and you've set things up quite nicely, but both as a demon and as a lawyer, I'd say your end game needs a little work, so why don't you sit down quietly while I tell you how to win this little war. In fact, lets play a little game. You be the WorJudge Raghead, I'll be Kwondat Foom, and you tell me just how you'd handle the little dilemma I'm about to put you in...''

 

The next day they went to see The Holy Giver of Justice. ``Remember, you don't say anything,'' Neba reminded him. ``Draw as little attention to yourself as possible. I'm a demon, which means she can't read my mind. You, on the other hand, are one of her worshipers, and your mind is an open book to her - if she chooses to read it. Just play the brave soldier resignedly going to his fate and keep your mouth shut until I've worked things out with the judge, then spring your question on Lizardo.'' A few minutes later they were in The Goddess's chambers.

``My client would like to take the ``Or kill me'' option.'' said Neba.

Nickie looked at him, not his attorney. ``Are you absolutely sure?'' she asked, ``Do you understand that you're choosing suicide, not just for your body, but for your soul?''

As instructed, Kwondat let his lawyer do the talking and focussed his mind on going over the things he'd done wrong at The Battle of Sirius IV. ``We have concluded that this is the best possible outcome for my client.'' said Neba, went on from there in High Lawyer, quoting statutes and discussing previous court decisions at boring length. The Divinatrix Nickie had replied in the same language. Finally The Holy Giver of Justice turned to Kwondat. ``I hope to hell you know what you're doing. You do understand that this is the same Raghead whose first act upon getting his superpowers was to destroy a substantial portion of Africa. He killed around a hundred million people before ``Bob'' could stop him. They were people who had never done him the slightest wrong, people whom he'd never met. They were just black.''

Neba replied for him. ``He understands very well. While he was off at war I did some research and I conveyed my findings to him when he returned home.''

The Divinatrix looked him in the eye. ``You understand that the only thing that will ever come out of the house of the gods regarding this is the simple announcement that you failed at one of the trials assigned you and died in the process. Despite your recent victory, yeti-kind is fighting for its very survival at this point, and we'll enforce the public view of events as necessary.''

``He understands that completely,'' Neba said.

``Very well,'' Nickie answered, and pushed a parchment across the desk, ``Sign here.''

As The Divinatrix countersigned the papers he spoke the one line Neba had given him permission to deliver himself. ``Dr. Lizardo, do you suppose I might take you to lunch? I've spent the last seventy two years hating you, but circumstances have changed that, and I'd like to get to know you as an adult before I go on to whatever awaits me.'' He used a tone of voice and body that had occasionally been used on him by men he had just sent on a ``one way'' mission.

Doktor Lizardo studied a vase of flowers for a moment. ``My boy, it would be a pleasure. I've spent the last seventy two years wondering what you had to say about X-Men 92.''

 

``Actually,'' said Kwondat, ``I've pretty much forgotten what I had to say about X-Men 92. I wanted to talk to you about something else. Just how scared are you and your fellow gods where Raghead is concerned?''

The old teacher frowned. ``I thought it would be something like this. What are you planning?''

``Well, for starters, how many of you would be willing to complain about your MWOWM terminals in the next few days?''

"I can probably arrange that, but I need to know why.''

``I've decided that I probably can't live through this, but I want to make sure no one else ever has to endure it. I've adopted a member of the media and made him my heir.'' Kwondat tapped the mechanical eye with the claw of his index finger, being careful not to touch the lens itself. ``He'll get the two hours of high resolution video and audio memory I've had installed in this eye - that's assuming the transmitter I had installed doesn't work.''

``Amazing.'' said Lizardo, ``Had I thought of it, I could have looked within your eye and traced the circuits, but I never would have thought of doing so. Well done. Very well done. Do go on.''

``My suggestion'' Kwondat continued, `` is that you or one of your friends innocently suggest that the couple hours of the ascension ceremony, when everyone will be busy anyway, would be an excellent time for adjustments to MWOWM. If the terminals in the House of the Gods are down during the ceremony he won't get any warnings about transmissions save for what he can pick up himself. That will ensure that a clean recording of the event gets out one way or another. I imagine that the public outcry will require that someone else be selected as WorJudge. The gods with a bit more nerve can jam his receivers or protect the eye itself, which is probably the most important thing they can do.'' On Neba's advice, he didn't tell Lizardo about the other part of the plan. His old teacher might decide that it was a little too ambitious for a mortal.

``I see.'' Dr. Lizardo answered, ``That's not a bad idea. Some gods are vulnerable to one thing, and some are vulnerable to another, but the best way to really hurt a god is to embarrass him in front of his followers. As you've guessed, your eye can be protected and MWOWM access can be turned off. There are many friends who will help us achieve this.'' Lizardo smiled grimly. ``None of them will go at Raghead's front, which is to be regretted, and some of them would not even go at his back, which is to be regretted even more, but most of us are willing to help undermine him if we don't have to face him directly.''

``That will be enough,'' said Kwondat.

``I raise my glass to you,'' said Lizardo, ``I've spent so many years trying to save people like you that I never considered the strategic value there might be in sacrificing someone. I suppose it's the lack of a military mind set.''

``And I raise my glass to you,'' Kwondat said, ``For spending nine thousand years making sure that the souls of the children stay in one piece when I'm sure you've got things you'd rather be doing.'' Their talk turned to other things. Kwondat learned that Lizardo had followed his career very closely, and the god who had been the acknowled expert in the field for ten thousand years had some very nice things to say about Hidden Erisian Symbolism in the Background Art of Nine Inch Worm Comics. It wasn't important in the grand scheme of things, but it was good to know that at least one of the gods took his ideas seriously.

 

Chapter Eight: A Darker Shade of Pink

Penis number one escaped its cage
Penis number two flew off in a rage
Penis number three is in your cunt
Penis number four is up your butt
Penis number five went after the judge
Penis number six wouldn't hold a grudge
Penis number seven took me to heaven
And number eight wants to masturbate
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!
There's a party in my pants and everyone's invited butt me!!

It wasn't anything like his dream. The gods sat in ordinary looking chairs in a big marble auditorium. Stang gave a nice little rant about how wonderful it would be to have an excellent strategist like him as one of the gods, but he didn't sound very hopeful. Sister Decadence and Reverend Rabbi acted as his hand maidens, making a big fuss as they showed him to the Chamber of Challenge. ``We built the chamber so that if Raghead decided to kill someone again we wouldn't have to watch.'' Lizardo had told him. ``He takes the thirty dollars there, and sends people down the hall to the Place of Transformation. At least that's what he does most of the time...''

``Good luck,'' said Reverend Rabbi, and gave him a yummy little spank on the ass. Sister Decadence blew into his ear and tried not to look sad. The giant iron doors opened, and Kwondat stepped inside the giant, white chamber of the WorJudge. He took another step and heard a giant booming crash behind him. The doors had closed; there was no turning back now.

Directly ahead, Kwondat could see another set of doors, which presumably led to the Place of Transformation. Those doors opened and the WorJudge stepped into the Chamber of Challenge, closing them behind him. Once again, it wasn't like his dream. Raghead's fur wasn't white, and he didn't crawl about on eight tentacles. His fur was light brown with red highlights and his eyes were blue. On the down side of things, the WorJudge was twelve feet tall if he was an inch. Kwondat stood loosely, his hands at his sides.

``Make sure that you look at all times like you're in control of the situation.'' Neba had told him, ``The one way you can lose this is if you have a failure of nerve. Show doubt or fear and no matter how real the threats you make, it just won't fly.''

Kwondat allowed himself a little smile. ``In the divine name of Dobbs I present to you my thirty dollars and request-''

``Don't bother.'' said Raghead, yanking the money from his hand and throwing it on the floor. Giant fingers closed around his neck. Kwondat had done self hypnosis and deep breathing on this for the lost couple weeks, so he wasn't overcome by terror, though the smile he made himself wear did feel a little forced, and there was a sour scared feeling in the pit of his stomach. ``Stupid fucking nigger. I've been looking forward to killing you for weeks. I'm gonna start by ripping your skin off you, then I'm gonna salt you down. When you're done screaming, I'm gonna eat your soul, and you can join the other jungle-bunnies in jigaboo hell.''

Kwondat managed to force the words out past the huge hand that blocked his throat. ``That's about the dumbest thing you could possibly do.''

The racist god threw his head back and laughed. ``Let me guess, nigger, you're going to explain why we need you, aren't you. Maybe you'll tell me how important your ape fuck nigger ideas are to the gods. Go on, give it a try.'' Raghead's voice boiled with contempt. The giant hand on his throat loosened slightly, ``Pretty soon you'll be begging me to kill you just to make it end.''

``Actually, I'm not going to explain anything, Bill,'' said Kwondat. The God gaped at Kwondat's use of his ancient, human name. ``I'm gonna tell you what you're going to do and why you're going do it.'' The God slammed him into the wall, and let him drop. ``Shut up fucking nigger. I've already had enough of you. I'm gonna show you how we treat niggers around here.'' Raghead came toward him, snarling, his eyes pink with blood and wide with rage. The God's huge feet pounded the ground like hammers.

Kwondat bounced to his feet and pointed at his artificial eye. ``No you're not, this is going out live.''

``What?!'' Raghead stopped like he'd been pole-axed, then laughed ``That can't happen. The MWOWM circuitry surrounding this room won't let anything out! Nice try though, jigaboo!'' The WorJudge advanced again.

``MWOWM's down for maintainance. Didn't you get the memo?'' Kwondat pulled the piece of paper that mysteriously hadn't made it to Raghead's desk out of a pocket on his harness and handed it to the God. The WorJudge took this piece of paper. ``Also, my eye has two hours of video memory which is also tied into my auditory nerve. On the other hand, if you let me through that door I'll make sure the records never see the light of day, because if they do, that's it for your cushy job. I'll bet you like being WorJudge. It's a slackful job. Hell, you only work about once a century. If people stop trusting you you'll have to get another job, one that actually means you've got to put in a full day.'' This was actually the least of his threats.

Neba has suggested that he build gradually to the climax of his blackmail effort. ``If you build up, not down, the mark always thinks you have something even worse in reserve.''

``I don't care what people think of me,'' roared Raghead, ``I'm a fucking god. I'll do whatever the fuck I want.'' Raghead tried to blast Kwondat's eye with some kind of lightning. The bolt fizzled just before it reached the yeti's face. ``Dobbs-dammit!!'' roared Raghead, ``Someone's fucking with me. When I find out who it is they're gonna die. I promise you, you're all gonna die.'' The giant reached for Kwondat's throat again. ``No one gives a fuck what happens to a nigger anyway!!''

``That may be true for your friends,'' said Kwondat, moving just enough to keep his neck out of harm's way, ``but in the outside world no one's heard the word nigger for ten thousand years.'' He dodged the other way, ``They'll be appalled.'' Suddenly Raghead had him by the throat again. Kwondat stiffened his neck muscles and managed to force three more pained words out. ``Remember Brok Faslo.''

The giant hands around his neck loosened again. ``Shit!!''

``That's right,'' said Kwondat, ``You're a god, with all the strengths and all the weaknesses of a god. What your worshipers think of you matters!! It matters a lot. If enough of them decide you're a shit you'll become a demon and go straight to hell. Imagine being prayed to by a bunch of lamer Satanists while Beezlebub does you up the ass.'' Now Kwondat let the contempt he felt for the all too human god flow into his voice, ``Oh Raghead,'' he vamped, ``great nigger hating flaw in the universe, butt buddy of Lucifer, I offer you this heavy metal music in Tiamat's name.'' He continued in his normal voice. ``Not much fun, huh.''

``Once you really get into the pitch,'' Neba had said, ``Don't let anything slow you down. Lay it on as thick as you can and whatever you do, don't give him any time at all to think. Don't stop talking 'til he breaks.''

With that in mind, Kwondat kept going. ``Or worse yet, your worshipers might decide you're crazy as well as evil. You might end up as a chaos demon, and then only Discordians will pray to you. Imagine yourself living in a lake of psychedelic rat puke, hallucinating constantly, randomly changing your form and nature. One minute you'd be a sentient tuna can with multiple personality disorder, the next you'd be a psychotic squid constantly spraying ink on yourself while buttfucking yourself with your own mating tentacle. Every once in awhile you'd change into a nigger your-``

``Enough!!'' howled the WorJudge. ``You can go, just get the fuck out of here.'' Raghead bounded over to the other end of the Chamber of Challenge and threw the doors open with such enormous force that they flew off their hinges and spun across the room. ``Damn fucking nigger shit colored big lipped bastard.'' The raving God punched a hole in the room's iron wall. ``I should have killed all you jigaboos and spearchuckers back when I had a chance. You fucking black ape shit face baboons fuck puppies. I'll bet you fuck little black terriers just like the one I had when I was a kid. They killed him because of you fucking spearchucking jungle bunnies. Nigger!!! Fucking shit sucking jigaboo. This will never be over. I'll kill you and kill you and kill you and kill you over and over again!!!'' Raghead went on for some time. It was lengthy and repetitive, and it didn't make much sense.

Kwondat, who despite his lawyer's coaching, was amazed to be alive, walked out the door and down the hall. Behind him he could hear the enraged god smashing things. Raghead's feet, or fists, or dicks pounding on the floor were like an earthquake. There was a small explosion, then something big fell down. ``I'm gonna shove a watermelon up your ass!!'' The last word went on and one, then turned into an incoherent bellow. There was another door at the end of the hallway, which had been tilted out of true by the shuddering floor. He still expected every second to be his last, but he struggled with the door and it opened. He stepped across the threshold, though not as calmly as he would have liked, and yanked the door shut behind him. Once out of the wrathful WorJudge's sight, he ran to the center of the Place of Transformation and stood upon the altar.

It was time to calm down again. He took deep breaths and enjoyed the sensation of merely being alive. Finally, he began to look around him. The walls were of stone, but that reality was wavering - no, the walls were of metal - no, they were of wood - they were of some substance he had never seen before - they were fading away, their substance slowly vanishing. The floor and ceiling went next, floating up and down until they could no longer be seen. Finally, everything but the altar stone was gone and he floated alone in the starry sky. Strange voices whispered inside his head, saying things that must have made sense, but though he understood most of the words, the ideas were beyond his reason.

Mystical winds of energy plucked at the curls of his black fur. He watched in awe as waves of light that seemed to come from inside him ran up and down his body, shooting bright rays into the cosmos. All sixteen dicks became erect, straining to fertilize existence itself. Everything went tingly, starting with a funny tickling sensation in his foot glands, then running up and down and through his body. His fur stood on end and tiny blue lightnings played about him, as if his fur had become a myriad of bright antennae.

The artificial eye popped from his head, and a new, divine eye, one that could see everything from gamma rays to the cosmic background radiation grew in its place. Looking down at himself with his godly eye, he could see the very cells of his body changing as their DNA rearranged itself. The cells divided, and the engines they had become finally generated something far more powerful than organic DNA, a sort of energy matrix that at first replicated all his cellular functions, then continued transforming into something much stranger than a mere copy of his body. His brain was growing and changing too, all ten senses socketing into the very matrix of the universe itself. He was divine, magical, seeing the world through the eyes of a child once again. The universe was his mother, his lover, his body. All of existence was one long, throbbing sexual connection that held and blessed and comforted every particle of him. The power exploded from his footglands and raced through all of him, lifting him into something like a whole body orgasm (except that it was much better) that wouldn't end until the cosmos ground to a halt. In fact, it would keep getting better and better as he grew into the knowledge and power that was all around him...

Abruptly, all was light, and the brilliant beam of power that had once been Kwondat Foom exploded into the marble auditorium where Stang and the rest waited, expecting only to hear news of his death. The beam of light created something that looked very much like his old body, and something which thought very much like his old mind from the basic building blocks of the omniverse and put it in place in behind the pulpit. Most of the gods were smiling to see him, but there were some frowns from those who had actually seen Old Earth, and some of them were even so upset that they actually walked out of the room. Kwondat Foom didn't care. They were no longer threats, only problems to be solved in their own time. Like everything else, his talent for war had been amplified enormously by the process of transformation, and even before he said his first word as a god, or took his first step, he was beginning to lay out his plans. There were strategic possibilities implicit in the situation of which no yeti could have conceived, and he was going to exploit them all. First the Yacatisma, he thought, already knowing how to drive them from the galaxy, then the Zists. After that there will be war in heaven.

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