El-Hazard Round Robin, Part 2

[d.t.]

"All science is perfectly useless," Yume's father had explained to her when she was a child.  "Look at the Spring of Life.  First it's giving its life energy to grow our crops.  Then it's apparently killing us all.  Then, when it's turned off, all the crops start growing again.  And now they're dying once more.  Science!  It does nothing but make messes."



The Writers of Destiny chuckled.  The Other snorted.  The Ancients laughed.

The Doctor knitted his brow and looked back over his shoulder and up at the massive humanoid.  "Well?  Aren't you going to-"

"No No."

The Doctor stiffened for a split second, then slumped slightly.  "Ah.  That's very peculiar.  I could have sworn I heard you say-"

"WeWe said we could do what you were talking about, not that we would would[/size]."

The Doctor chortled ruefully.  "So you did," he agreed, "but if you do not act, the entire world of El-Hazard will be destroyed."

"You You are not skilled enough to defeat us Doctor, but we do not think you are incompetent enough to destroy an entire world world.  We We are confident that you have a back up plan plan."





Master Yume leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms behind her head.  She allowed herself the smallest of smiles.  Dall had lasted longer than she had feared, but not as long as she had hoped.  The boy's inexperience, in fact, had been the real weapon.  Smith was a being of logic and order.  Dall, in his inexperience, was both an utterly useless fighter and a very chaotic one.  That randomness had bought her a few more seconds.  More importantly, Dall's ineptitude had been effective camouflage.  Smith still hadn't given the little blue sword a second glance.

Two monitors were on front of Yume.  One was sending her all the information that the sword was picking up about Smith.  The other monitor was showing something else.



Smith shrugged, then flew towards Dall, ready to inflict a killing blow.

The adult human skeleton consists of 206 named bones, most of which are paired on the right and left sides of the body.  Ryoko broke every single one of them in the Smith's body.  She shattered his zygomatic bone.  She pulverized his talus.  She snapped his ischium like a twig.  And she did it all in less time than it takes to hate someone.

The other Smiths watched their fellow slump to the ground with slight dissapproval.  "Ms. Ryoko," said one.

"We were hoping you'd show up," continued another.

"Do you like what I've done with the place?" carried on another, gesturing to the street of Smiths.

Ryoko scowled and picked up the blue sword.  She held it straight out at her side, tip pointing to the heavens.  An executioner's stance.  "This ends now!" she growled.

"Yes.  I agree.  And I'm going to win.  I hope your... creator is watching.  I'm coming after her next."




Master Yume held a small bonsai tree in her hands.  If anyone looked very closely, they would have seen small pieces of machinery growing along its sides.  It was the technolo-tree, the tree of life, Bizen.  She had designed it, partly using what she had learned about Peorth's "physiology", partly from the residual traces of Yggdrasil that the goddess had carried with her.  It would take time for the tree to grow, even though she was accelerating its growth.  Hopefully, however, it would be enough now to patch into Yggdrasil and prevent the calamity that she had detected.  "I know you're there," she said, not looking away from her work.

"Correct Correct."  The Other took a moment to look through Yume's eyes and study the data on Bizen.  It was very curious, but large parts of the plant's aura were identical to Tina's.  For a moment the Ancient scientists within The Other took the floor, and they alone addressed Master Yume.  "It It is no Palace, but it is still a design worthy of us, Master Yume Yume.  Whatever Whatever happens next, it was enjoyable working with you you."

"Hey!  Stop with the pep talk!  I'm not going anywhere.  We still have that bet, remember?"





Ifurita watched as Smith drove his hand into Makoto.  She looked on, transfixed, as the ooze enveloped her one true love.  She cried out in horror and grief, lashing out wildly at the Smiths in her anguish.  No longer was she concerned that there might be real people somewhere within those bodies.  All rational thought had been drowned out by the horror of what she had just seen.  Flames poured from her staff and winds swirled around her, catching up the Smiths and slamming them against the rocks.  Again and again she struck at those identical leering faces, trying to obliterate them from the universe.  Nothing worked.  They were like a swarm, like a murder of crows, like a parliament of rooks.  They were Legion, she was but one.  She found herself slowing down, then, at last, stopping, standing stock still.  The Smiths watched cautiously but contemptuously.  
A single Smith began to approach her.  "I think we've broken her, boys!"  The crowd of Smiths laughed, a horrible sound.  Ifurita raised her head, tears still staining her cheeks.  Faster than he could react, she grabbed the Smith by his shirt and lifted him up.

"You took someone from me, monster.  Someone more precious to me than life itself.  Do you have any idea how much agony I'm in?"  The Smith narrowed his eyes in disgust, shooting a glance at the army of duplicates behind Ifurita.  They looked at one another in mild uncertainty, each one searching for support in an sea of identical faces.  As one they stepped forward.

"You will," whispered Ifurita.  She grabbed the Smith's hand roughly, and plunged it into her own chest.  She gasped in pain as she felt her synthetic flesh buckle and tear, but pushed through the hurt, thrusting the Smith's hand in further.  The ooze began to flow for the last time, but slower than ever before, as if it was being drawn out under protest.  Which is exactly what was happening.

And then the Smiths knew fear.



Yume had looked much different when she was younger, studing under Professor Dornkirk at the Univesity of Creteria.  It had been brand new when she had attended, back before Emperor Dall I abdicated the throne to his daughter.  At the time nobody would have guessed that Emperor Dall II would be in charge soon, nor that she and her husband would one day apparently just up and leave, dropping responsibility for all of Creteria in their son's lap.  Yume certainly had no idea that she would play a key role in Dall II's disappearance.  She had no idea that she would one day be in charge of excavating The Platform of Infinity, that wonderous machine that had brought her people to this world.  She had no idea what she would one day do in order to obtain sole ownership of the ruined, rusty, broken little remnant of a demon god they would find.

Back then, Yume had looked just like any other Creterian girl.  No funny ears, no slitted eyes.  Of course her eyes had still purned with her passion for science, but in all other ways they were like those of any other girl.  The only novelty had been that she was one of only 23 female students in a university attended by 102 youths.  



Almost everyone has, at some time or another, seen a bug batting against a lightbulb.  The bug feels pain as it collides, yet it keeps flying back, slamming against the hot glass.  The Smiths fighting Ryoko were like a swarm of bugs relentlessly thrashing themselves against the bulb.  And Ryoko, to keep the analogy going, was begining to dim under the stress.  A Smith managed to grab her from behind, holding her still as another Smith grabbed Dall.  She squirmed and kicked, but to no avail, more Smiths were grabbing her by the second.

A Smith walked right up to her and removed his glasses.  "Look Ifurita, I can see you're really upset about this.  Losing.  You're wondering how it happened."  He turned and showed his teeth to Dall.  It was not a smile.  "Well, I don't think there is any question about it.  It can only be attributable to human error.  This sort of thing has cropped up before and it has always been due to human error."   The Smith holding Dall stopped smiling, his face twisting in raw loathing for the man he was holding.  His hand thrust forward, and Ryoko was forced to watch as Dall was turned.  The blue sword fell from her fingers as she went limp in the Smiths' hands.

The Smith nearest Ryoko beamed, enjoying her despair.  "Now, Ms. Ryoko.  It would appear we cannot abzorb your kind.  So what," he continued, bending over and picking up the sword, turning it this way and that, "are we going.  To do.  With you?"  He raised the sword in mocking imitation of Ryoko's executioner's stance.  And then he fell to his knees, hands clasped to his head, sword falling from his fingers as an inhuman howl issued from his throat.  One by one the other Smiths joined him in his primal scream of pain, falling to the ground in anguish.



The ooze continued flowing over Ifurita, just now reaching her chin.  She felt herself sinking deeper and deeper within what had once been The Doctor.  She was not something Smith was meant to try to absorb.  Her very presense brought pain to the Smiths.  But not enough pain to sate her grief.  She began to tear down everything around her, looking for Makoto.    



"Now?" mumbled Millie.

"Not yet,"  replied The Guide

The Smiths smirked haughtily and encircled the small band of survivors.

"Now?" whispered Millie.

"Not yet," replied The Guide serenely.  

The Smiths made great show of cracking their fingers and necks, self-importance positively oozing from them.  Calmly, savoring the moment, they began to close their circle.

"Now?" hissed Millie.

"Now."

Millie jumped to her feet.  "NOW!" she cried.

Summoning the last of her strength, Afura waved her hands through the air.  Gritting her teeth in raw agony, Ishiel slammed the Lamp of Earth into the ground, breaking the crust.  The Priestesses had not been playing possum - if Smith wasn't certain he had beaten them, he would never have allowed this opening.

The very roof of the building shuddered and splintered, powerful winds carrying the debris away from the Roshtarians.  A single mesa of earth rose up under the feet of Millie's militia, carrying them higher and higher, past where the roof had been a moment before.  As for the ground beneath the Smiths' feet, it just plain wasn't there any more.  A handful of the Smiths did indeed manage to jump onto the side of the mesa, and were trying to climb their way up.  But one by one they fell, easy pickings for the Bugrom Demon Gods.

"Are they dead?" asked one of the survivors, cowering behind one of the Bugrom demon gods.

The bird peered into the distance.  "Not quite.  Excuse me for a moment.  I'll be right back."  It leapt from Millie's shoulder even as the girl shouted her objections, riding through the air in a manner so unnatural it was clear that the wings were only for show.



It hadn't been enough.  No matter how hard she pushed, she still found herself wanting.  The mind was willing, she had realized, but the flesh was weak.

So she had strengthened the flesh, remade it.  Genetic modifications.  Cybernetics.  Surgery upon her own brain.  She had pulled out all the stops to improve herself.

And, Yume realized as she stared at her naked new body in the mirror, she still looked good.  She had been worried that the small metal machines she had replaced her breasts with would look unattractive, but (if you were into that sort of thing) they didn't look bad at all.  Definitely on the small side, yes, but she liked the petite look.

"Now I'm an ally, not an assistant.  Someone that really is your equal.  I can win our little wager," she declared to thin air.

"We We commend you on your work, Professor Yume Yume."

"Master Yume," the genius responded dryly, "I'm not the same person that needed your help to crack the mysteries of The Ancients.  I'm the greatest of all great galactic geniuses, and I'm going to win the bet.  I'm going to be the one to find out what's poisoning Creteria, not you."  She lifted up a carafe of wine.  "What'll we drink to?  To the trip Dall III and I will soon make to El-Hazard?  To self-improvement?"

"And And to the elimination of annoying variables, Master Yume Yume."




By now all the Smiths were writhing in agony, their bodies slowly turning an oily black.  Ifurita was shredding their core essence, destroying that which linked them.  Their faces twisted and deformed, bubbled and oozed, looking like they were sculpted from tar.



Ifurita knew that she had found what she was looking for.  None of her physical senses had followed her to the limbo within the Smiths, yet she could still sense it.  She reached out and grabbed hold, not with her hand, not with her mind.



The Smiths were as still as statues.  It was as if some talented but deranged artist had gone around sculpting them, obssessed with pain, and unaware of how repetitive his work was.

A crack appeared in the solid blackness of one of the Smiths.  And then another crack, and another, and soon the whole horrible thing was falling away as Makoto shook off the obsidian fragments, like a chick emerging from its shell.

As he opened his eyes, feeling like he was being born a second time, he felt his breath being taken away.  It really was incredible, how beautiful she was.

"Ifurita..." he whispered.

"Makoto," she answered, crying tears of joy.  Her hand was covering the wound in her chest, but she didn't even feel it.  Nothing mattered now, except that they were together again.  As they embraced, Ifurita felt like she was falling again.  She never wanted it to stop.



It was a scene played out all everywhere Smith's influence had spread.  People did what anyone would do after being turned itno someone else, then turned back.  They cheered.  They whooped and hollered.  They danced.  They shook their friend's hands, and slapped their enemies' backs.  They hit the Taverns hard, having a great deal to repress.  They grabbed the nearest available person of the desired gender and orientation, and kissed 'em like it was goin' out of style.  They partied like they were trying to teach those idiotic ravers in Zion how it was done.

On any other planet this sort of thing might have been a major event.  The people of El-Hazard, on the other hand, pretty much took it in thier collective stride.  

Peorth gasped as she stepped out of her captor, and shuddered as she looked back on it.  The back half of the petrified Smith remained, frozen in one of his trademark arrogant stances.  With great satisfaction she gave the thing a push, and nodded happily as it smashed into smithereens.

"Pissant," she spat, as only the French can.



Yume was using supergenius technique number one: typing faster than the eye can see.  There was a great deal of data to transmit, but it looked like she would actually be done with time to spare.  Still, she didn't get this far by leaving anything to chance.  She reached out with one hand and pulled a lever.  The data on Smith was sent to the blue sword.  She slammed her other hand against a giant button, and Bizen glowed for a moment.  She waited for three seconds that seemed like three years, and then the little tree glowed again.

Yume sighed with more relief than she had ever felt in her life.  She practically melted into her chair.  Yggdrasil had accepted her transmission, and had acknowledged that the threat Smith posed was over.  The vaccination had been called off.  All was right in the world.

Precisely 50 seconds later she was running through the corridor, with what looked like a carpet made of circuitboards rolled up under one arm, and a sheathed scimitar-shaped variant of the blue sword tucked under her other arm.  She'd completely forgotten about that darn home media system.  She'd be hard pressed to get these pieces of ancient technology to the boy in time.  Darn the luck!  Darn it, darn it, darn it!

[d.t.]

The Other grinned an army of smiles as people began to dissapear from its mind-realm.  

If If you ever need advice in making an overly-convoluted evil master plan, Doctor, don't hesitate to call our secretary's assistant's runner's gardener's wife's third cousin's voicemail voicemail.  After After 10 p.m.  p.m.. On On every third wednesday wednesday  In In February ruary. [/url] You're You're just no good at evil, Doctor Doctor."

"Actually I had expected something like this to happen.  I was just hoping to get you to play by my rules first," observed The Doctor quietly.  "How exactly are they beating the Smiths, if you don't mind my asking?"

"TheyThey are The One One.  The The Two are The One, and together united they are The One in Two and Two in One One."

"That reeked of bollocks.  Sounds like a prophecy."

"It It is."

"How old is it?"

"About About five seconds seconds."

The Doctor shrugged helplessly.  "The ink's still wet as the events happen, just like most good prophecies.  Well.  I suppose I'll be off then."  And he vanished.



The current writer had stated earlier that all the Smiths were turned solid.  Actually, the current writer had been telling a little fib in saying that.  One Doctor Smith still remained.  The original.

He leaned against a building, panting, clutching at his chest.  Where had he gone wrong?  Gloating.  He had stopped to gloat far too often.  Well, that would change.  Next time he would descend like a plague, swift and silent.  He wouldn't even put his efforts into capturing key players, he would just do everything he could to spread as quickly and efficiently as -

Something was happening to the ground, barely percievable.  Smith slid into a defensive stance instinctively.  He should have just run.  It wouldn't have helped much, but every second of life is precious.  Wraithlike, Ryoko slid up from the ground, the blue sword held in her hand.  Ever since Yume had sent it all her data on Doctor Smith, it had been blazing in a different way.

On top of the building, The Guide watched as the ninth Doctor died.  It stayed after Ryoko left, just long enough to see the face of the next Doctor.  And then it flew away once more.



"Oh well.  It was a good a shot.  The Smiths I mean."

"You wasted a regeneration.  The ninth Doctor is dead.  Only three remain.  I am a probability machine," explained The Guide evenly, "Smith was a creature driven by a need for logic, purpose, and order.  Given enough power, he would have pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, de-briefed and numbered the entire universe.  He was, in his heart of hearts, just an auditor.  Even I know of only a few things more predictable."

The Doctor shook his head, smiling. "I suppose.  Probably my own fault for trying to use a machine invented by The Master.  You say you're a probability machine?"

"Yes.  And I'm going to kill you."

The Doctor laughed out loud.  "All right.  Well, you're not off to a bad start.  Or, actually, you are, from my perspective.  When will you kill me?"

"I will watch the twelfth Doctor gasp his last breath in the sands outside of the Palace of Infinity."

"Sands," muttered The Doctor to himself.  He grined brightly.  "Thank you, my fine forged-feather foe.  You've just given me a clue to its location."

"Yes.  I know."

"Oh.  Right.  I suppose that's the only reason we're talking. "  


The Doctor shivered and thrust his hands deep into his coat.  He was actually cold in El-Hazard!  The mind boggled.  "Do you know, I think I prefered the Pescatons to you."

The Guide did not react to that comment, instead looking pointedly at the TARDIS.  "This is when you leave," The Guide said in a smooth voice.  The Doctor found himself glaring at the little machine.  It really was the most detestable thing he had ever encountered in his travels.  The Vogon influence showed.

"I could just stay here, you know."  The Doctor's expression remained neutral, but the bird could sense his anger.  The bird could sense everything.  The first four dimensions were very boring, it had once pointed out.  It was in the next 22 where things started getting interesting.  

"No.  You can't.  You won't, because you didn't.  If you remained, and you cannot, there would be a time paradox."

"That would get rid of you at least," replied The Doctor icily.

"And everything else in this time line.  It's not in your patterns to do that."

The Doctor took a deep breath.  He was fond of this incarnation, and in no hurry to meet his own demise.  "An appointment at Samarra," he sighed.  The Doctor stepped into the TARDIS.  "So now I go back.  And I meet your for the first time.  And I try to kill you.  And... I die."

"Yes."

"Still, I'll do a good acting job.  Pretend I don't know what'll happen.  Maybe even repress a few memories, so that I really don't see it coming.  I bet you were fooled."

"No."

"No.  No, I suppose not.  Well, be seeing you back then.  And at The Palace."  He shut the door to the Tardis.  A few moments later the entire booth vanished.

The bird watched with complete detachment.  After a pre-determined amount of time passed, it began to fly back toward Millie.  The election would be soon enough.



And on the satelite of love, popcorn was being thrown at the screen.  Monitor.  Whatever Mike and the bots are reading this horrible excuse for a post on.

[MrWhat]

"PIKA!!" said the Mouse Wearing A Hat that had read Dr. Schtalubaugh's books on genetics and electricity.

As it cheerfully electrocuted the few remaining white Bugrom in its part of the sewers, its powerful electrical pulses surged through ancient infrastructure.  Ancient breakers were tripped, ancient fuses were blown, and ancient wiring melted or burned clean through.

The ancient El-Hazard home media center suddenly lost power.  It gracefully shut down, never to pose a city-destroying guitar-noise threat again.

It was just as well, seeing as how that plot thread had mostly failed to catch on before all those other things had come up.


Shayla, Parnasse and Ura awoke, to find themselves in a deep chasm carved out by an underground river.  They could hear the white Bugrom chittering away, somewhere above them.  White Bugrom eggs floated in the nearly still waters before them.

All three of them were still wrapped up, up to their necks, in sticky white cocoons so thick that they were nearly spherical.  Escape was impossible, even for the shape-shifting Ura.

Parnasse wet himself.

"GAH!!" said Ura.

Shayla sighed.  "Damn and blast!  Why do I keep getting stuck in Creterian Bugrom chasms?"


Hatora and Gatora, Fatora and Alielle, Jinnai and Groucho had all fled back into the seminary.  Of course, they had all fled mere seconds before the Smiths began to writhe in agony and melt like tar.

In their panic, Hatora and Gatora ran down a short hall, flung open a small supply closet door, threw themselves into the closet, and slammed its door shut behind them.

A moment or two after that, Fatora and Alielle ran down the hall, flung open the closet door, threw themselves into the closet, and slammed its door shut behind them.

And, a moment or two after that, the male Jinnai and Groucho ran down the hall, flung open the closet door, threw themselves into the closet, and slammed its door shut behind them.

Another moment or two passed, for additional comic effect, before the six hapless occupants of the closet realized that they were packed in like sardines; further, that the closet door could not be opened from the inside; further yet, that Groucho couldn't break the door down without squishing at least three of the other occupants.

"AAAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!" said Fatora, Gatora, Hatora, Alielle, the male Jinnai, and even Groucho.


Ifurina was still drifting through a sky heavy with swarms of icky-squicky alien Bugrom wasps.  Staff-chan zapped the occasional wasp, by himself, to keep them from coming too close to her.  But it was only a matter of time before those mean ol' Smiths saw her amidst the wasps, and came after her.  She was the last un-Smith-ed person in sight.

And so it was that Ifurina made her decision.  She suddenly darted away, still enjoying the cover of the wasp swarms.  She was flying back to the Fujisawas' rural hideaway at top speed.  Of course, she had turned away mere seconds before the Smiths began to writhe in agony and melt like tar.

She had had misgivings about what she had found there, earlier, in the Fujisawas' pantry.  But that was before the whole 'nother level of Bad News.  It was clearly time to use... the Plot Device.  And maybe she could actually fix herself a snack from the pantry, while she was there, this time.

Little did she know that, instead of actually using the Plot Device, she was about to uncover a Deep Dark Mystery concerning the retired Great Priestess of Water, Miz Mishtal-Fujisawa.  There just had to be a Deep Dark Mystery there somewhere-- after all, most retired Great Priestesses of Water didn't keep Plot Devices in their pantries.


"Do you mean to say, the souls of half the city of Floristica were separated from their bodies, and briefly held in your mind-space-- and yet, you couldn't set aside just one body for me!?"

"sorry Sorry, Kalia.  We had a lot on our minds.  But we have found a suitable candidate for your, uh, installation.  And we are confident that we can succeed where the Smiths failed. failed"

"Oh?"

"yes Yes.  The Smiths made a mistake when they used a brute force attack.  We prefer a more subtle approach-- something along the lines of... spyware. ware"

"Whatever.  Just who do you have in minds?"

"tell Tell us, Kalia-- how do you feel about the French? french"

[MrWhat]

OOC:  Sorry for the double-post.  I Had An Idea.


To paraphrase Douglas Adams, the one thing the current writer really couldn't stand was a smart-ass.

The Guide was arguably such a smart-ass.  Its confidence in its own abilities, its encyclopedic command of the knowledge of 22 dimensions, and above all, its vain smug self-assurance, made it one smart-assed little birdie.  Its defeat of two formidable opponents (the canonical Doctor and Elmira) only served to make it even more smart-assed.

And, at the risk of being thought of as a smart-ass, his own self, the current writer was about to go and introduce yet another unimaginably powerful entity to the Round Robin, in order to try to set the Guide a well-matched opponent, until the mystery behind the tachyons and the Doctor's failed fan-fiction Smith was fully revealed.

Although, not exactly.

This opponent was not Stanley Spadowski's mop.  Except when it was.

The opponent wasn't even a discernible entity at all.  Well, maybe.

The author wasn't sure, to be honest.  He literally couldn't be certain.

This opponent was... Uncertainty itself.

The Uncertainty was actually a naked singularity of quantum Heisenberg uncertainty that had formed in the vicinity of Stanley's mop, a bizarre side-effect of the unpleasant concentration of bistromathic energies.

Just one final surge of bistromathic energy was needed to give the Uncertainty a weird astral sentience, and to unleash it upon the sad little dimension of El-Hazard, to attack the Guide, along with any other sad little vestiges of predictable logic, thoughtful reason and relative sanity left in El-Hazard.  (By this time, there weren't many left.)

That final surge of bistromathic energy was supplied when Stanley tried to give Sparky a tip in Monopoly money.  This act probably ended both of their cross-overs... but it was enough.

No human could have detected the naked singularity of quantum Heisenberg uncertainty.  Nor could the demon gods, or the Smiths, or even Yume.  Peorth might have noticed it, but she would have had to have been looking really hard.  The Other would have noticed it, if it didn't detest variables so much.

The Guide would have been certain to detect the Uncertainty, and to destroy it in its vulnerable naked state-- if the Guide hadn't, at that exact moment, been flustered by the attacking Smiths.

If anyone had seen it, it might have been recognized in its vulnerable naked state as a Schrodinger's Cat.  Well, maybe.  No one knows exactly what a Schrodinger's Cat looks like, since it's actually a thought experiment in an imaginary sealed box.

After achieving sentience, the Schrodinger's Cat set out to clothe its vulnerable naked state by assimilating with a physical entity-- preferably a wacky feline entity like itself, and one that was prone to random assimilations.

Happily, El-Hazard currently had such a wacky feline entity.  She was about to become even more of an All-Purpose Cultural Cat-Girl.

And then... the Cat was going to chase the Bird.  Hopefully not until after Millie's election, though-- the current writer generally roots for the Good Guys, but he was still pulling for the Mice Wearing Hats.


Nahato returned to his private quarters after an inspection of the Phantom Tribe's half-breed clones.  Soon, very soon, they would be ready.  After many set-backs, and many episodes of comedy relief, Nahato was finally feeling a bit vain, smug and self-assured again, his own self.  He was contemplating the happy prospect of a purring Jinnistacia in his lap, and six groveling clone slaves at his side.

He stepped into his quarters, to find three of his clone slaves super-glued to his other three clone slaves in hideously fan-servicey ways.  The first three were Nanamis, and the other three were Makotos.  They apparently had a natural genetic attraction to each other, because all six of them were, in fact, starting to enjoy it.

Then he noticed that Jinnistacia, still wearing her fan-servicey cat-girl outfit, was standing on two feet again, and aiming her power-key-staff at him.  He briefly pondered how she had been able to throw off her core program of servitude to the clone-Kauru's genetics-- perhaps by assimilation with some unimaginably powerful entity?-- before he wet himself.

"Uh... Jinnie?" he whimpered.

Jinnistacia smiled in an incredibly disturbing way, but tsk-tsk'ed.  "Ah, ah, ah!  Naughty Master!  Please, call me-- Schrodinger's Cat-Girl Jinnistacia!!"

"How did you throw off your core program of servitude to the clone Kauru's genetics?"

"I don't know."

"Have you assimilated with some unimaginably powerful entity?"

"Maybe."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure."

"What can you do now?  I'm not trying to suck up, here, but you somehow seem almost unimaginably powerful, now."

"I'm... Uncertain.  Yes-- Uncertainty is what I can do now."

"Are you trying to turn this into an Abbott and Costello routine?"

"Possibly."

"But I'll bet you are gonna glue me up again.  Aren't you."

"Yup."


Ryoko and Dall-III were renting a single small room while they tried to figure out what to do with the rest of Dall's life.  (Ryoko, of course, was an immortal True Demon God without a care in the multi-verse.)

After the unpleasantness with the Smiths, Ryoko had slept in (her Round Robin demon-god persona was almost as lazy as her canonical space pirate persona).  She finally woke up to the sound of someone breathing out both heavily and regularly.

She squirmed to the side of the bed, looked down, and saw Dall doing push-ups on the floor.  He was wearing shorts and a muscle T-shirt, and he had tied his pretty-boy hair back.

Ryoko raised an eyebrow.  "Whatcha doin', hon?"

"Training," Dall said.

"For what?"

"For... anything.  For myself.  For... you."  Dall paused, and looked up at Ryoko.  "I let you down.  And Yume too-- she may not be done with us, after all.  But I'm tired of being comedy relief.  I don't know if I'll ever be called upon again, but if I am, by Creteria, I'm going to be ready for it."

Ryoko grinned.  "Why, Dall.  I'm proud of you."

Dall smiled thinly in return.  "Well, maybe I can make something of myself.  Maybe I can make myself into someone you can be proud of."

After Dall and Ryoko enjoyed this heart-warming little moment, Dall resumed his self-imposed training.  Ryoko continued to look down on him from the side of the bed.

She watched him heft his body up and down, up and down.  She watched the muscles ripple in his broad shoulders, and in his big strong arms.  And she watched a light sweat form on his face and arms.  Her enhanced demon god senses were delighting in his rhythmic movements, in the warmth of his body heat, even in the smell of him.

Ryoko's eyes went all dreamy, and a light blush came to her cheeks.  She sighed, so softly, and she licked her lips.

Dall paused and looked up at her again.  "Uh, Ryoko?  Do you have to stare at me like that?"

"Ooooohhh yeah," said Ryoko, in a sultry voice.

Dall sweat-dropped, in a not-exercise kind of way.


Kauru was curled up in a corner of Crayna's place, resting up after her bizarre healing rampage, letting the tequila that she had consumed restore her strength as she slept off her intoxication.

Meanwhile, Al-Zahad had constructed an impromptu bio-chemical laboratory.  He stood behind a short counter of bottles and burners, along with Crayna and Nanami.  All three of them wore long white lab coats and clear plastic safety goggles.  Al-Zahad was comically wearing a second pair of safety glasses over his third eye.

Even more comically, at Crayna's masterly suggestion, and to the delight of both her and Nanami, Al-Zahad was wearing only his red Speedo under his lab coat.

Despite all that silliness, Al-Zahad had analyzed the healing agent in Kauru's altered spinal fluid, and in short order.  He held up a large recycled vodka bottle, full of his synthesized anti-alien Bugrom serum.  "It is done, Master Crayna.  I now hold a sufficient supply of serum to cure and inoculate every citizen of Floristica from the alien Bugrom."

Crayna whistled appreciatively.  "That's incredible, hon.  Is there anythin' you can't do?"

Al-Zahad hung his head.  "I was unable to fight the Dollmaker.  I am also unable to bear arms against my sister Jinnistacia, no matter what fan-servicey form she may take.  Further, as a male demon god, I am unable to leave the toilet seat down, or to take out the trash without being nagged about it, or--"

Crayna giggled, and held up a hand to cut Al-Zahad off.  "Whoah there, big fella!  Don't worry 'bout it!  It was only a rhetorical question."

Al-Zahad held up what looked like a long syringe mounted on a belt.  "I have also devised this artificial delivery device, since the natural female human form does not have a stinger."

Nanami grinned.  "Aw... and here I was hoping you could turn me into an insect girl too."

Al-Zahad turned back to his lab.  "I could prepare a harmless reversible mutagen that would--"

Nanami gulped, and quickly cut him off too.  "That was a joke!  Gee, you really do take things seriously, don't you?"

Al-Zahad sighed, and handed the belt to Nanami.  "Be that as it may... while Kauru's instinctive method of delivering the cure may seem... fan-servicey, it is in fact the safest method of injection.  The human spinal cord is a thick bundle of delicate nerve fibers.  If the injection is not administered properly, the subject may be paralyzed or killed."

Nanami put Al-Zahad's belt on her, pulling it around to position the syringe behind her.  She looked over her shoulder, and wriggled her assets.  A disturbing smile came to her face.  "Hmm.  I sure hope Makoto-chan hasn't been possessed.  It'd be such a shame if I had to tackle him and sit on his head..."

Al-Zahad sighed again.  "Be that as it may, the problem is that this method of delivery is painstakingly slow.  It would take a small army of young women to sit on heads fast enough to overcome the current rate of infection."

Crayna was thoughtful.  "Damn.  What we need is a small army of highly disciplined young women, in peak mental an' physical condition, willing an' able ta give themselves to a frankly ridiculous cause.  Where the flippin' 'ell are we gonna find somethin' like that?"


"ATCHOO!!" sneezed most of Gatora and Hatora's female ninjas.

[rowan_a._seven]

There was a knock on Ryoko and Dall's door.  Exchanging a perplexed look with Dall and wondering who it could possibly be, Ryoko floated over to the entrance and opened it.  Standing on the other side was a thin little man, with thin little glasses, a blue uniform, and a small brown paper-wrapped parcel, tied with string.  He had a peaked hat on, announcing with large white script to any that cared that he worked for International Express.  He handed her a card and extended a clipboard with an attached receipt and pen.

"Please, sign here and mark the date, ma'am," the thin, little man requested.  Bemused, Ryoko did so.  Nodding his head in thanks, the International Express worker left for his next delivery.  Shrugging, Ryoko tore the card open and read it.

Dear Ryoko,
Hi.  It's your creator, Yume, the greatest super genius in the entire universe.  I have some important news for you so read well and hard.  Creteria is saved.  Yes, I finally discovered the solution and, though this will probably go right over your head, I'll try to explain it using really simple concepts and words you can understand, okay?  Basically, when the Creterian Eye of God was first activated, it went chaotic and plunged the world into a new dark age.  Of course, this isn't all it did.  In addition, the natural dimensional barriers surrounding our home world were weakened, and this caused a slow but steady inward leakage of dimensional energy.  The Spring of Life, our ancestors' cure to the dark age, collected this energy, reprocessed it, and used it to artificially rejuvenate the planet.  However, unbeknownst to them, this only aggravated the _real_ problem, the dimensional instability, and made it worse.  I calculate that it was this weakness in the dimensional barriers that allowed Arjah to infiltrate Creteria and divert the reprocessed energy to himself, increasing his power and ability to manifest in other planes of existence.  Regardless, this dimensional instability is what has been poisoning our planet.  When the Creterian Eye of God reconstituted itself and absorbed the Spring of Life, the continued destabilization of the dimensional fields stopped, allowing the planet to briefly revitalize itself, but since the deterioration had not been reversed, Creteria still continued its march towards death.

Now, however, I've created Bizen, the tree of life.  It has the power to not only heal the barriers between dimensions but completely restore our planet to its natural state prior to the Eye of God catastrophe.  Though still young, Bizen's power is infinite, and with the tree of life all of Creteria should be completely rejuvenated in under a century.  Additionally, the Creterian fleet will be heading home soon, and Dall II and his wife should be returning from their "accident" any minute now.  Thanks to the Creterian legal code, they will have the power to declare our surrender null and void, and Creteria will belong to and be ruled by Creterians again.  As for you and Dall III, you will both be listed as missing in action and recovered by a rescue team one year from now, giving you plenty of time to make the young emperor into someone to be proud of.  You have your work cut out for you, but I have faith in your ability to succeed.  Heck, I created you.  Anyway, I wish you well, take care, blah blah blah.  

Love,
Master Yume

P.S.  After reading this document, you are released from your programming.  You now have total free will.  Congratulations.

P.P.S.  Don't screw up!

******

The International Express worker made his way through the celebrating crowds towards the goddess Peorth.  Had he known he was approaching a goddess he might've been a little more reverent...but probably not.  He had his duty, and that was all that mattered.

"Please sign here, miss," the thin, little man politely requested, holding up a clipboard with an attached receipt and pen.  Puzzled, Peorth signed her rune which glowed brilliantly on the paper.  Without even the slightest hint of surprise on his face at this unusual signature, he handed Peorth a card, tipped his hat respectfully, and left to continue his task.

This is what the card said.

Congratulations!  You are a mother!  Your daughter, Bizen, is a healthy, beautiful baby tree of life!  Enclosed is a picture of your child.  Have a nice day!

It's been fun,
Master Yume

P.S.  For more videos, check out babump.com's online catalogue.

"Sacre bleu!" Peorth exclaimed in shock, stunned by this news.  A mother, her?  Although the following action is typically reserved for the opposite gender in situations similar to this, Peorth chose that moment to faint.

******

Above the skies of Florestica, a large, black portal opened, and one by one the Creterian ships (which had just been repaired) with their surviving Creterian crews and passengers left for home.  Yume's ship was the last to go, partially for dramatic effect but mostly because it was her ship that was generating the portal.

"Well, this has certainly been a learning experience," Yume commented cheerfully as she inputted the flight coordinates for home into the ship's navigation systems.  A moment later she sat back in her chair and grinned, sipping another cup of tea.  "I suppose I owe the Other my thanks for starting me down the right path and not telling me what was poisoning Creteria this entire time despite the fact that it must have known since the problem was so bloody obvious!  I probably never would've forgiven myself if I hadn't figured it out on my own."

"However, there is _one_ more thing I'd like to say," Yume suddenly declared, smirking, as she set down her cup and stood up.  "Washu, my cameo was tons better than yours!  Bwhahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!"

Hishima and the slightly bruised Yakage sweatdropped.

******

The International Express worker looked up as the last Creterian ship flew through the portal which closed behind it, eliminating the variable the Creterians (minus Ryoko and Dall III) posed and concluding Yume's part of her bargain with the Other.  He then glanced at the next name on his list.

Package for Mizuhara Makoto.
From:  Master Yume

The thin, little man shrugged nonchalantly and got back to work.  Compared to some of his previous deliveries, the next one would be downright easy.

[Andrusi]

Several lightyears away from El-Hazard (assuming that is indeed what EH characters call their planet), a planet drifted.  But this was no mere planet... this was a giant metal sphere with a mouth which devoured everything in its path and which was best known for being able to turn into a giant robot named Unicron.

For most of his multidimensional, trillions-of-years-long existance, he'd been invincible, but recently Unicron was being defeated a lot.  First there'd been that incident with that bright red moron and his Matrix thing.  That'd been embarassing... he'd floated around as a disembodied head for years afterward.  Then he tried spying on his enemy first in the assumed form of a robot named Sideways.  That hadn't worked well either... he still shuddered inwardly whenever he heard the words "requiem" or "blaster".  At last he'd wisened up... he went into a reality where he'd never been and just went after that blasted planet of Cybertron in the first place before anyone could figure out how to kill him.  It was a perfect plan... except for Over-Run, that Mini-Con who'd escaped from a planet he ate previously.  And that extra Matrix he pulled out of a plothole.

Unicron was now officially pissed off.

He had a plan now, though.  He had discovered that this universe had no Cybertron.  Better still, Over-Run was here--trapped in a form which rendered him helpless.  He was going to eat the planet of El-Hazard, and damned if he was going to let anything stop him.

As he drew closer, he detected a multitude of different things going on.  Dimensional travel.  Superbeings.  Time Lords (possibly only one, it was hard to tell at a distance).  Even well-disguised self-insertions, of all things.  Didn't matter.  He'd dealt with it all before.  Even the Guide posed no threat to him... he'd always wondered how a being that could see all probability would taste.  He kept looking, preparing a plan for how he would react to any possible thread, for how he would finally get the first decent meal he'd had in decades...

...oh, no.  Not that.  Anything but that.

Unicron was a powerful being, nearly invincible.  But all the physical power in the multiverse is worthless if the mind is vulnerable.

And so it was that Unicron transformed and landed on a convenient planet specifically so that he could run screaming from this universe rather than simply leave it.  Hopefully within a few thousand years he'd be able to clear from his head the image of robotic doubles of Makoto and Jinnai doing something he really didn't want to think about.

---

Even as he fired at the wasps pursuing Ifurina as she sped back towards the house with the intention of using the Plot Device, Over-Run would have grinned if he could find his face.  As expected, his study of human mating rituals had paid off.

[d.t.]

Peorth felt like crying, she really did.  She had left her post, something she almost never did (although she seemed to be doing it with more regularity these days), in order to face The Other.  And what did she have to show for it?  The Doctor's plan had backfired spectacularly, leaving their enemies fully aware of their intentions.  And, to add insult to injury, she had been saved by The Other.  And now this.

Peorth, once more dressed in her usual belt-fetishist's clothes, was standing on the cliff where she had expected to find Yume's ship.  From the cliff she had an excellent view of Florestica in the distance, along with the Great Holy River of God, and a few of the small villages around Roshteria's capital (if she had looked closer she might have noticed some very large bugs around those villages, but she was a bit preoccupied).  The Creterian lab vessel (packed with super-advanced technology and one of the greatest minds she had ever met) was conspicuously absent.  Instead there was a giant mound of mechanical junk (including the bodies of the ill-fated Makoto and Dall-III doubles, whose heads were probably in the pile somewhere), and probably enough coffee grinds and old newspapers to start a good compost heap.  She still had a thousand questions for Master Yume, but somehow Peorth knew she wasn't going to get any answers.  She went through four of the stages of getting ditched.  First came Denial.  "No," she said, her voice wavering, "she is not gone.  She is just playing ze silly prank. Ha!  You are ze prankster, Yume!"

Depression quickly followed.  She sank to her knees.  "Oh no, I am undone.  All ze others will laugh at me when zey hear of this.  Especially Urd."

Bargaining came along swiftly, nipping at depression's heels.  "Yume?  Can you hear me?  You can video me for your tapes, if you come back, mon ami, oui?  We goddesses, we are surprisingly flexible, non?"

Finally, she slid into Anger.  "Zis is just un-be-lievable!" she yelled, jumping to her feet and shaking her fist at the sky.  "You steeewpid cat-girl zilly scientist type!  You are ze worst ally I have ever had!  And your lab stank of coffee!"  She kicked at the pile of technology angrily, and jumped in surprise as it began to beep and hum at her.  Curious, she brushed away coffee grinds and spare parts until she could see what was underneath it all.

Yakage had been busy.  The... unique demon god had been given the ability to construct demon gods of his own.  Clearly he had built two, or at least had tried to.  Unfortunately, Master Yume's departure had been even more abrupt than the end of the Godzilla vs. Bambi grudge match, so he had been forced to leave his unfinished work behind.  Peorth knew none of this, naturally, she just knew that she was looking at two girls floating in glass tubes, in the usual semi-naked fanservicey way that Peorth was quite used to.  One of the girls, the one in the cannister marked "Minagi", closely resembled Ryoko.  It was the other cannister, however, that drew Peorth's attention.  The demon god in that one didn't resemble anyone.  It was at such an early stage in construction that it barely looked humanoid.  Staring at it, Peorth felt herself oddly compelled to finish it.

Part of what makes spyware so insiduous is that it does not take over computers.  It may monitor computers, it may make computers do things they normally wouldn't, it may drive users nuts with pop-ups, but spyware doesn't actually take over the computer.  This is a key issue because many users are willing to just grit their teeth and work around it rather than taking the time needed to completely and utterly irradicate the hated programs.  The Other's plan worked along these lines.  There was a good likelihood that Peorth would have spotted an attempt to steal her body again in time to thwart it.  And besides, that sort of tomfoolery might well cause Yggdrasil itself to take a hand in things again.  That would most definitely fit in the bad things category.  So instead The Other had decided to make Peorth do something she wouldn't normally do.  And, with any luck, the finished demon god would have a little of that (very dangerous) kooky Yggdrasil charm to it.



The Doctor slowly rose to his feet.  That had been, by far, the worst regeneration he had ever experienced.  He couldn't remember that, obviously, since he was suffering for his usual post-regeneration amnesia.  He was just aware that he had a headache bigger than the TARDIS' interior.  "Mmfffmmmfmmmffff," he groaned, closing his eyes tight against the painful sunrays.  He staggered out of the alleyway, and collided with Tina.  Certainly an unlikely coincidence under normal circumstances, but when you're having a deadly grudge-match with a probability machine, it's best not to assume anything happened by chance.

"Doctor?" said Tina quietly, looking him over in surprise, "is that you?"  

The Doctor took a step back.  This woman was a stranger to him, yet, all the same, he felt he knew her.  Moreover, he felt that she looked different from how he not-quite-remembered her.  She was still wearing that vaguely-arabian waitresses' uniform , red with beautiful embroidered flowers and a pretty purple bow for her hair.  But now her hair seemed to be a slight shade of... well, green.  Like the leaves of a tree, or a blade of grass.  

"That is you, isn't it?  That strange lady with the funny accent said you would look different, but your eyes look the same to me.  Are you all right, Doctor?  Are you... yourself again?"

"Mfffmm?"

Tina sighed and pushed her ponytail over her shoulder.  "Oh dear.  The amnesia again.  Okay, let's start with the basics.  I'm Tina Bradford, although my friends sometimes call me Terra.  And you're..." she trailed off, giving him another good look-over.    "Doctor?"

"Mmmfffmmm?"

"Where in El-Hazard did you find that hooded orange parka?"

"Mmfffmmm," he replied with a large shrug.

"Aren't you hot?  This is El-Hazard you know!  At least uncover your mouth!"

"Mfffmm!" The Tenth Doctor replied firmly.  He was actually quite comfortable wearing this, and did not realize that his latest life was off to a Very Bad Start[/i].



There's a relatively new (to earth) branch of physics that examines what are called Phantom or Ghost particles.  In essence, an apparatus is set up, creating a "ghost" copy of a particle, which then reacts exactly as the original particle does, irregardless of space.  The discovery of the phenomenon has led to the creation of a number of interesting theories.  One such theory suggests that there is no uncertainty, that everything is connected, that there is no chance or luck or unpredictability, only synchronicity on a grand scale.  There might very well have been something to that particular theory - after all, The Guide mark II existed.

Uncertainty, unsurprisingly, wasn't certain what to make of it all.

There was, however, hope to be found for uncertainty (well, possibly, anyway).  Now where, one might ask, might one find the greatest concentration of uncertainty?  A number of answers had been proposed over the years, including numerous glib suggestions involving persons of the opposite sex (or same sex, if that's where one's preferences lay), marriage, and human nature in general.  All these answers were way off.

The real answer was pantries.  Some might argue that fridges are even more unpredictable, but careful studies have shown that not to be the case.  Most of the contents of a fridge are suitably organic that there is little question as to whether or not they're still edible.  There was the occassional question about how old something was, or what something had once been, but generally it wasn't too hard to decide whether or not something was safe to eat.

Not so with pantries.  Within pantries all bets were off.  Expiration dates mysteriously vanished or faded into illegibility.  Obscure canned and dry goods caused moments of profound soul searching as foragers wondered to themselves 'it's safe to eat, provided it hasn't been opened, right?'  Labels somehow managed to fall off, leaving enigmatic cans, items most definitely put on one shelf were somehow moved to another.  In fact, items most definitely put in one pantry at one time somehow manged to tranverse time and space, turning up on entirely different continents at the most unlikely of times.  The reason for all that last occurance is quite simple - due to the intense improbability of pantries, all pantries, regardless of time or dimension, are linked.

It hadn't always been like this.  Things only started to get bad when people started putting impossible things like spam and non-dairy creamer in their pantries.  When people started buying and storing potato chips made with olestra, the certainty threshold finally gave up and allowed uncertainty to reign.  This is important to the current story for a number of reasons.

First, the singularity of improbability that had entered El-Hazard had done so through a pantry in the bistro Stanley had been eating at.

Second, it partially explained Miz' deep dark secret.  The truth of the matter was, she had inherited that little rural home-away-from-home mentioned earlier in the story.  It had been passed down from one retired Great Priestess of water to another, much like Crayna-Crayna's place.  Many generations ago, it had been owned by a Great Priestess who, after years of work, had grown utterly sick and tired of water and cleanliness.  Much of the house had gone thoroughly to pot while she was staying there, particularly the pantries.  Try as they might, later owners couldn't even put a dent into the disorder of that pantry.  In the end thay had all admitted defeat, and tended to good naturedly eat whatever seemed safe in the pantry, leaving the rest be.  While pantries themselves are unstable, this particular one was the most unstable place in El-Hazard.

Which helps explain what happened to Ifurina.



Peorth added the finishing touch, a cute yellow hat, then stood back and wiped a little trickle of sweat from her forehead.  A little bit of hard work had done her a world of good.  She really felt as if she had just taken a load off her mind.  Then, as she looked at the wrench she was holding, the doubt began to set in.  Since when did she enjoy building machines?  For that matter, since when did she do anything as dangerous as combining Ygdrassil designs with alien technology?  It was almost as if-

The demon-goddess yawned and stretched, making Peorth drop the wrench and just about jump out of her belts.  "Sacre bleu!  But I have not installed ze AI yet! Wha... who are you?"

The demon goddess stood up and looked at herself.  It was a smallish body, roughly teen-aged in shape, with sky-blue dress, deeply tanned skin, and short white hair.  As a matter of fact, she looked a little bit like an older, off-color Madeline.  "Kalia," she said in a voice so soft Peorth had to strain to hear.  "I think," the demon goddess added.

"You think?"  Peorth frowned.  "Zis is a leetle worrying.  Consult your memory!"

The demon goddess mirrored Peorth's frown perfectly.  "My what?  What's that?"

"You... don't know how to access your memory?  Non?"  The girl shook her head no.  "Can you remember anything else?"

Kalia raised her finger to her lips and tried to remember.  She had a flash of something, a girl in a street, crying.  The demon goddess gasped and took a step back.  "No," she said firmly, shaking her head back and forth with force, "No, I don't remember anything else and I don't want to."  She suddenly began looking all around her, a little hyper.  Peorth began to wonder if maybe the AI was damaged.  Kalia poked at some of the coffee grinds with her foot.  Finally she looked back at Peorth.  "Who're you?" she asked.

"I am Peorth," replied the belt-loving goddess, feeling a bit lost.

Kalia beamed brightly.  "Hello Peorth!  Will you be my friend?"



Ifurina burst through the door to the kitchen, firing Staff-chan (at this point Over-Run officially gave up all hope of ever using his old name again, and decided their were worse fates than his) at the pursuing wasps.  She wasn't sure what she had seen earlier, but she hoped it would help.  She hurried past the dinnertable, but had to slow down for a second to avoid a mop someone had apparently been cleaning the floor with.  This threw off her timing by just the right amount, and when she reached the pantry and pulled open the door, she did not see The Charm/Plot Device in any of its myraid forms.  As a matter of fact, she could barely see anything for all the sand blowing in her face.  Plus, it was hard to focus on anything, with the Creterian Eye of God in the sky, tearing horrible holes in space like that.  There could have been an army out there somewhere, for all she could see.  But she could, just barely, make out the figure on front of her.  It might have been Princess Rune, but it was very hard to tell.  For one thing, this girl looked much younger than Ifurina remembered Princess Rune being, much closer to Makoto's age.  Plus, she couldn't quite imagine Princess Rune holding a mop, especially not a broken one like this woman.  And, to the best of Ifurina's recollection, Princess Rune didn't have any clothes with question marks on them, much less an entire ensemble.  Last, but not least, it was hard to tell if this was Rune Venus because Ifurina had never seen the Princess lying on her side in the sand, coughing up blood, like this woman was.

It was about then that Ifurina saw the thing hovering, no, hanging in the sky over the woman.  Ifurina, as has already been pointed out, was a very simple person.  She tended to believe what she was told and what she saw.  As a matter of fact, she had been born without some of the filters that most people have, which let her see the world slightly differently.  So when she looked at The Guide, she saw something much closer to what it really was than anyone else in the Round Robin allowed themselves to see.

Ifurina screamed in terror.  The Guide slowly turned to face her, its eyes glowing like cigarettes, narrowing to the thinness of a knife-edge.  For a moment she could tell it was experiencing something purer than confusion, followed by something less human than anger.  "You?" it hissed.  Its voice was horrible, so cold and sterile, like a scientist making a recording of his observations.  "Impossible," it continued in that horrific analytical voice, "I killed you.  I saw you die."  Ifurina clutched her staff close to her in fear.  Staff-chan was every bit as terrified.  He could barely see through the whirlwind of sand, but he could just about percieve what The Guide was holding in its talons: The Creation Matrix, spent and broken.  Somehow they both felt it as the Guide aimed the Creterian Eye of God at them.  

"Close the door!" shouted Staff-Chan.  Ifurina stood in place, too scared to move.  The air around them began to feel warmer, and the sand seemed to slow down slightly.  "Ifurina!  Close the door!"

The demon-goddess blinked and snapped out of it.  She slammed the pantry door closed and leaned herself hard against it.  She felt the handle warm up slightly, and then cool down again.  She didn't move for a minute, her heart pounding in her chest like mad.  When it became apparent that nothing else was going to happen, she slid to her knees and pulled Staff-chan close.

She didn't realize it yet, but what she had just done was about as Good as anything gets.



Dr. Schtalubaugh folded diapers.  Of course he had realized some time ago that Makoto was either cured or dead.  And he could have pointed this out to Londs and Diva, who apparently had selective amnesia when it came to the demon goddess that would probably be after their hides either way.  But... nahhh.  It would, he told himself, just ruin their fun.

He briefly permitted himself a very evil grin.



Peorth had her hands clasped behind her back, and was staring at Florestica, trying to figure out what to do next.  She should probably just wait until the next regeneration of The Doctor contacted her, he was much better at this stuff than her.  Behind the goddess, Kalia was laughing and chasing after a butterfly-like bug, catching it and letting it go again.  A few moments earlier, in a fit of energy, she had sketched in the sand with a stick, but now she was running right over her drawings.  Had Skuld seen them before they were destroyed, she probably would have made lots of little changes before sweatdropping, saying a very uncharacteristic swear word, and hightailing it away from the scene of the crime.



Just out of sight, a number of Master Yume's robotic body doubles were watching Peorth with interest.

[MrWhat]

OOC:  There's a few more bits of creepy experimental fan-service in this reply.  (When am I gonna learn?)  Reader discretion is advised.


The six hapless occupants of the seminary closet were packed in so tightly that they could barely move.  In fact...

"Can't-- breathe--" gasped Gatora.

"Too-- many-- people--" gasped Hatora.

"Alielle!--  Climb up-- on my-- shoulders--" gasped Fatora.

Using her advanced hentai skills, Alielle wriggled up Fatora's side, entirely without the use of her pinned arms.

"Whew," said Hatora.  "Thank you, Alielle.  At least we all have room to breathe, now."

"Alielle?  Where'd ya go?" Fatora asked.

"I'm sitting on your shoulders, Fatora-sama."

"No, you're not."

"Um, she's on my shoulders, actually," said Gatora.  "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Never mind that!" Jinnai yelled.  "What the heck are we gonna do now!?"

Alielle was thoughtful.  "Fatora-sama?  Gatora-sama?  Hatora-sama?  Like I said, there must be some wacky misunderstanding here.  Why don't we try to work it out?  I'm sure that, if we're open and honest with each other, and if we talk about our feelings, we can--"

Jinnai screamed in terror.  "OH, SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP!!  SOMEONE GET ME OUTTA HERE!!"


Makoto and his Ifurita were ignored by the crowds that were once again cheering, whooping and hollering all around them.  Ifurita's demon god body had healed her sucking chest wound, but that and her terrible battle with the Smiths had almost exhausted Ishiel's half-charge.  And Makoto and Ifurita were far too busy clinging to each other, and bawling their eyes out in relief, to have recharged her.  There was also Makoto's tearful confession of infidelity, and Ifurita's tearful forgiveness, to get through, not to mention the occupation of Floristica to over-throw, and that whole darned Palace of Infinity mystery waiting for Makoto.

And so it was that Makoto was unusually snippy when the delivery man interrupted their latest tearful reunion.  He glared at the delivery man as he wiped the bishounen tears from his eyes.  "Look, this isn't a good time!"

The delivery man sighed.  "It never is, sir.  Please, just sign for this package, and I'll be on my way."

Makoto signed with his Japanese name stamp, then accepted his package.  The delivery man disappeared into the crowds again.  Ifurita opened the small package while Makoto read the letter that was attached to it.

Dear Makoto,

Master Yume here.  Yeah, the real deal.  Do you remember that stuff that my robot double told you?  Fuhgeddaboutit.  It was advanced bollocks and utter balderdash.  Well, except for the parts that were true.  Yer a smart kid, but I thought I oughta make it clear, anyway.

Anywho, long story short, I've solved Creteria's little problem with the illegitimate life-tree-child of a Yggdrasil goddess, so we're packing our goodies and going home.  Terribly sorry about the invasion, and the attempts to destroy your soul-mate, and all that.  Hopefully, within your pitifully short life-span, you'll pull your government, economy, and social order out of the world-wide collapse that could still come any day now.

Oh, and about the Palace of Infinity thingy.  Good luck with that, Sparky.  The Doctor and Peorth may be able to help you out with that-- but I doubt it.  Two bigger screw-ups, I've never seen.  Just believe in yourself, trust in the ones you love, yadda yadda yadda.  You might want to try to get around to it pretty soon, though.  I don't think the Round Robin itself will end (that's a thought too terrible to contemplate), but this big ol' honkin' Palace of Infinity story-arc might finally be winding down.

If you're ever thrown across dimensions to Creteria again, stop by.  We'll do coffee and donuts.

Love,
Master Yume

P.S.  The enclosed DVD-R is for Ifurita.  If you've done anything particularly stupid lately, like, say, a one-night stand with one of her sisters?  Some yaoi hentai might be just the thing for a scorned soul-mate.  If you suck it up, and watch it with her, she'll be impressed with your open-minded tolerance, and it might even strengthen your relationship.  (But fer crapssakes, if Nanami sees the alternate scene with Jinnai, get her in a straitjacket, STAT, and keep her away from axes!)  For more videos, check out babump.com's online catalogue.  They're planning for a whole series of Ishiel x Afura titles, dontcha know.  You might even get to see Peorth in deep yogurt soon.


"*mmmph*" said Shayla, again.

The white Bugrom had earlier released Parnasse and Ura, but left her cocooned.  And when they had brought trays of food to Parnasse, Shayla had tried to remind Parnasse of how the white Bugrom had fattened Jinnai for their Deva.  She had got as far as "PAR--" before the white Bugrom had webbed her mouth shut.

She sighed through her nose.  Ah well, she thought.  Parnasse is just a little twerp, so it won't take those cockroaches very long to fatten him up.  But I still wish I didn't have to wait out this dull Alternative World plot thread again.


Afura and Ishiel were at work in the Mice Wearing Hats, Giant Sewer Rats, Rogue Priestesses and Bugrom Demon God Militia warehouse.

"So tell me, Afura," asked Ishiel.  "I'm a self-proclaimed Rogue Priestess.  But why are you still helping Millie and the Mice Wearing Hats?"

"I'm not sure, really," Afura said.  "My loyalty to the Alliance ended with the Alliance's craven surrender to the Bugrom.  Maybe I'm just eager to get the Bugrom out of power, even if it puts that annoying brat in power.  Maybe it's because Millie personally promised me two cities if I helped her.  Maybe it's because the current writer is both a Mice Wearing Hats fan and an Afura fan.  Or maybe..."

Afura suddenly gulped.  "Or maybe... it's because you'll kick my skinny butt again, if I try to act against you."

Ishiel smirked.  She stood away from her work, came up to Afura, held Afura's chin in her hand, and looked deeply into Afura's eyes.  "Damn straight," Ishiel said, in a mock-dangerous voice, with a devious twinkle in her eyes.  "We may be friends again, but just remember who's calling the shots now."

Ishiel gave Afura's cheek a condescending little pat, and stood away.  "wow," Afura said, in a very small and squeaky voice.

Then Ishiel returned to her work.  "C'mon, hon.  Let's finish setting up these non-certified touch-screen voting machines for the election."

Afura also went back to work.  "'Kay.  Yes, these new voting systems should ensure a fair election, free of controversy and vote-tampering.  Isn't it wonderful?"

Ishiel remained silent, but she smirked again.  Oh Afura, she thought.  You can be surprisingly naive, sometimes.  My dear sweet little Afura...


Ifurina and Staff-chan were looking for Fujisawa and Miz, to tell them about the horror that they had just witnessed via Miz' pantry.  The Fujisawas weren't in the house, so Ifurina went back to Fujisawa's shed.

Ifurina opened the shed door, to find that, having been left alone, the Fujisawas had decided to do Something Else with the ropes before putting them away.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!" said Ifurina, Staff-chan, Miz and Fujisawa.

Ifurina quickly shut the shed door again, then fell back against it and slid to the ground.  She clutched tightly at Staff-chan, and whimpered in a pathetic sad kind of way.

Over-Run surprised himself.  By all rights, he should have been well upset with the simple girl that had stripped his gears.  But he felt his heart, or whatever it was Mini-Cons have for a heart, go out to the sweet and innocent dear.  "Ifurina?  From what I have learned of human mating rituals, it's entirely acceptable for two adults to do that with ropes in the safe and loving confines of a consentual long-term relationship."

"Um, Staff-chan?" whimpered Ifurina.  "I've had really bad luck with opening doors today.  Would it be alright with you if I didn't open any more doors for awhile?"

"Of course.  Why don't you get some ice cream, and go to the public park, and eat the ice cream while you look at pretty flowers?"

"'Kay."


Schrodinger's Cat-Girl Jinnistacia emerged from the original hidden entrance at the peak of "Kingfisher."  After putting the cap back on her power-key-staff super-glue-gun, she stood still for a moment, surveying the magnificent world of El-Hazard for a few moments.

She also surveyed her own internal systems.  She felt more powerful than ever before.  Every quantum particle of her being was afire with Heisenberg uncertainty.  Except for the ones that weren't.  It was hard to tell which were which, what with all the uncertainty.

Jinnistacia finally rose into the air, leaving the ancient stone fortress full of re-super-glued Tribesmen behind.  Well, I can't stick around here, she thought.  Places to go, people to confuse, things to make Uncertain.  Tee hee!


The Guide shuddered.

Just for a moment, it felt something that it almost never felt.  It was only a flash, a premonition, a twinge of cosmic angst.

But... for the briefest moment... the Guide felt... uncertain.

It quickly shook it off.  Come now, it thought to itself.  Millie's election is mere chick's play.  And triumph over the dying Doctor, in the sands near the Palace of Infinity, was already a done deal.  Why, its eventual pear-shaped success was as certain as fan-service in a round robin.

The Guide pleased itself with thoughts of the Tenth Doctor's sad little fan-fiction persona in the hooded orange parka.  There was no need for the Guide to attack the Tenth Doctor.  This pathetic persona was destined to be even shorter-lived than the Curse Of The Fatal Death Tenth Doctor.


"Um, Bill?"

"Yes, Alyssa?"

"This is the third time that freaky demon-god has completely super-glued us together.  And it's the second time she stripped us both nekkid, and put us together in a position to--"

"*ahem*  Yes, Alyssa.  I'm inescapably aware of that."

"Bill.  Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I think so, Alyssa.  But I don't know if there's a market for full-body super-glue videos, even at babump.com--"

"Not that, you big silly.  I mean, it's almost as if someone was trying to tell us something.  It's as if we're meant to be together."

"Oh.  Yeah.  I guess it is like that, isn't it?  I mean, we haven't been together long, but we do have something special here, don't we."

"Yes.  I really think so, Bill.  You know, I am happy to be with you."

"And I'm happy to be with you too, hon.  And the world has almost ended so many times, lately... well, who knows how much time we have left?  So..."

"So?..."

A moment of silence passed.

"Alyssa?  Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

Another moment of silence passed.

"Oh, Alyssa.  Don't cry."

"I'm sorry, dear.  It's just, every Phantom Tribe girl dreams of this moment.  It's just like I always imagined it.  Well, except for being completely super-glued in a hideously fan-servicey kind of way.  But I'm so happy.  I love you, Bill."

"I love you too.  Wanna kiss?"

"I don't know, dear.  There may still be some super-glue on our lips."

"Well, shucks.  That wouldn't make much difference at this point, would it?"

"*giggle*  No, it wouldn't."

A third moment of silence passed.

"*mmmph mmmph mmmph*"  [I guess there was some super-glue on our lips.]

"*mmmph mmmph mmmph*"  [Yes, Alyssa.  I'm inescapably aware of that too.]

[d.t.]

 OOC:  Urg.  Sudden major case of writer's block, halfway through this.  Gomen.  
IC:

It was entirely unfair to look down on the intelligence of the White Bugrom.  True, compared to the more advanced Bugrom of El-Hazard, they probably did seem a little dim.  But they were still extremely advanced for a bunch of bugs.  Still, on their own, it would have taken them a long time to figure out how to work Ifurita mark III.  They were by nature tough hive-minded insects, fairly capable at the things they did, but unfamiliar with things like, say, keys and wind up dolls.

Unfortunately for the good guys in the story, they had assimilated villages of humans.  And, as any fan of Granny Weatherwax or Ms. Marple will point out, in any good sized village there's an old woman who's a hell of a lot smarter than she lets on.  The white bugrom had assimilated one such person, a white-haired old spinster with a lifetime's worth of living.  The former leader of the Roshterian Resistance had been fiddling around with the demon god for almost an hour without any success.  The old woman had taken less than a minute to figure out that Ifurita III's staff looked like it fit into the hole in her back.

The Hivequeen was taken a bit aback by her latest acquistion.  Ifurita III didn't look well, which was to say she had become a study in scarlet eyeballs and problem drooling.

"Deva?" whispered the queen to the former head of the Resistance.  He had pretty much become her go-to slave.

"Well, from what I can tell, the 'little things' in the demon god's blood are in her wasp grubling now.  It's essentially become a demon god itself."  Hesitantly he gave the demon goddess a little push with a stick.  Ifurita's eyes slowly moved to look at him, then move back to stare at the queen.  Aside from that she gave no reaction.  "Okay, I think it's safe to say she's a bit weird in the head," whispered the advisor to his queen.

"Deva."

"Yes, your majesty."  He turned back to the demon goddess.  "Um... go and serve the hive?"  Ifurita III's eyes slowly moved to look at him again.  She promptly spun on her heel and marched off, with such speed that the queen and her advisor both lost a year off their expected lifespans.  "Like I said," continued the advisor after a moment, "Weird."

"Deva!" replied the queen firmly.

"Deva!" agreed the young hive princess, who had been hiding behind her broodmother all this time.  She looked just like her mother, only still a child.



Nahoto was taking another bath.  He had glue in his hair this time.  And he was starting to get a rash from all the exposure to harsh chemicals.  "Oh Galus, I fear I have made a terrible mess of things again," he whimpered pitiably.  "Scrub harder," he added.  This last comment was made to his collection of clone-slaves, who were helpfully washing him in an extremely fanservicy fashion (which is a bit disturbing when one considers that Nahato was even younger than Alliele).  

"Nonsense," came Galus' voice from nowhere, "You had no way of knowing that would happen"

Nahato jumped up in the bath.  Nahato was an extremely skilled ninja-ish assassin, who had learned all sorts of Phantom Tribe techniques, such as how to jump up in a bath without slipping.  Readers should not try to replicate his stunt.  "Lord Galus!" he cried.  "You have returned to us!"  then, not really annoyed but still wanting an answer, he added "Why weren't you watching, to protect me from that thing?"

"Yes, well.  We... I had a lot on my minds.  Mind.  I had a lot on my mind.  A great deal has been going on.  The clones are almost ready?"

"Yes, my Lord Galus.  They should be completed in about the amount of time it would take to stop an invasion by mind-controlling bugs and have an election."

"Interesting way of measuring time."

"But the loss of Jinnistacia troubles me, my Lord." continued Nahato, "Once again we will have nothing to fight Ifurita with.  When we attempt to use the Cloud of Tears against our enemies, she will surely stop us."

"Yes..."  Actually, The Other was a little troubled by the changes to Jinnistacia.  The Ancients hadn't predicted that.  They could have just asked The Guide, which surely knew all about Jinnistacia's new form.

But, in all honesty, that bloody bird bugged the hell out of them too.  In retrospect they should have known they would hate it.  It had, after all, been made by the Vogons.  No race was more hated in the entire universe, and no race hated the entire universe so much.  Anything they had helped to make could hardly be likable.

They'd do it again though.  The Ancients had built the Trigger of Destruction, a weapon of frankly ludicrous power.  All the other stuff they had done, from the sentient stars to the cybernetic solar-systems, still didn't compare with the power of the Trigger.  They were truly a threat to Makoto and his friends, a threat of the highest calliber.  And yet, in their current form, the Ancients knew full well that The Doctor would probably be able to beat them.  He'd fiddle around a bit with his sonic screwdriver, wither about pressing buttons and twisting dials in the correct order, consult with a boffin or two, and they'd be beaten.  Just like that.  No, it really wasn't fair to get The Doctor involved in an adventure that would be challenging to Makoto, but old hat for The Doctor.  The Guide was a necessary evil.  They just didn't have to like it.

"Lord Galus?  Are you listening to me?"

"Hmmm?"

How are we to face Ifurita?"

"There are other demon gods still in play... Jinnistacia has a brother unit, whose core kernal should still insure loyalty to your Kauru-clone.  In fact, the Kauru clone should be able to take control of any demon gods constructed after Arjah's imprisonment."

"Arjah?"  Nahato frowned.

"A long story.  Do you wish to know it?"

Nahato shook his head and made a gesture to his clone-slaves.  They began to dress him.  "I merely await your orders, my master."

"Dear loyal Nahato.  Your enemies have two demon gods, Ifurina and Ifurita.  But the demon god Ibn Al-Zahad will be loyal to you.  Jinnistacia may yet be loyal as well.  The two of them should be a threat even to Ifurita.  And as for Ifurina, I know of just the demon god to handle her."

Nahato gasped in surprise as The Other planted information directly in his mind.  He whirled to his slaves.  "Assemble a crack team!  The demon goddess Minagi will be ours."



Unlike most boys his age, Makoto had already dived into the minds of several demon gods, learning much of their most intimate secrets.  What that meant was that he really had no frame of reference, no one that could explain to him how to make sense of it all.  So it was understandable that he got a little muddled from time to time.

For example, he knew that some of the demon gods he had interacted with had the ability to read a DVD-R just by picking it up.  He just wasn't 100% positive whether or not Ifurita was one of them.  So it's really no surprise that several years of his life epectancy got shaved away when he saw Ifurita unopening that passage.  Yume's description of the disc made it sound a little embarassing to say the least.  But he really didn't want Ifurita to look at it without at least telling her what it was first.  He was well aware that, after a series of comical misunderstandings, even the most tolerant of girlfriends was prone to whipping out mallets and dispensing "punishment".  

"Ifurita-wait-I-can-explain!"  he yelped, voice going all-soprano-like.

But really, there's no way he could have explained.  Master Yume, Greatest of the Great Galactic Geniuses (self-proclaimed) had managed to fit a full length carpet into a package the size of a Michael Crichton paperback.  Makoto looked rather stunned.  Less stunned than Ifurita, however, since a large part of that circuit-covered carpet had unfolded right into her chin.  She staggered back, dropping the carpet in the process, and gave Makoto the first good hard glare he had recieved from Ifurita since they had decided to be a couple.  She could tolerate infidelity if it wasn't really his fault, but if he was responsible for her being attacked by a souped-up rug, she would just have to start laying down relationship rules.

Thankfully it didn't come to that.  "What the heck is that thing?" exclaimed Makoto, pointing at the rug.  He was concerned with Ifurita's safety, naturally, but he had managed to miss the look she had given him.  

"It would appear," Ifurita replied, rubbing her jaw, "to be a heavy woven or felted material, intended for use as a floor covering, and decorated with circuitry."

Makoto couldn't much argue with that.  Gingerly he rolled it out, trying to make some sense out of this odd twist.  "Okay, so it's a carpet."  He poked it gingerly.  Nothing happened.  He stepped on it and began to pace back and forth across it, hoping to find whatever it was Master Yume was trying to tell him.  But there's only so much attention one can give a carpet.  "I give up," he sighed, "Maybe Master Yume just wanted to give us a housewarming present, to make up for the way she tried to kill uuuuuuuuusssssss!"  

The last part was screamed mostly because the carpet had started to fly, quite quickly, after Makoto stepped on just the right part of it.  His tech-touch activated the Ancient Technology woven into it, and, much like what had happened when he had touched the robot in the Palace, the carpet had done its thing.  Part of the scream was also due to the fact that Makoto was quick on the uptake, and remembered that the Robot had shut down a few moments after he had touched it.  Which meant he had to find whatever part he had touched on the flying carpet, and fast if he didn't want the whole thing to give out in midair.  It might help to figure out how to steer the thing too, but first things first.  And the last part of the scream came when he saw the DVD-R fall off of the carpet (it must have been rolled up inside, and somehow he had managed to miss it when he was looking at the carpet), and neatly bonk Ifurita on the head.  This time he saw the look she gave him as she instantly read the thing's contents.

Oh dear.

[MrWhat]

OOC:  Jinnistacia strikes again!  


The new Kalia suddenly stopped dancing around the illegal Creterian road-side dump.  She stared at the sky, then pointed with one hand.  "What's that, Miss Peorth?"

"Eet ees ze Mouth of God and ze Heck-laire of Rassilon, mon cherie.  Zey are still in le deadlock-- Kalia!?"

Kalia had left the ground.  She was flying towards the Mouth of God, with an unreadable expression on her face.  She somehow felt drawn to what was once her Dimensional Phase-O-Matic.

It remained to be seen what effect, if any, Kalia would have on her creation, after Skuld had redesigned it, and after the Heckler of Rassilon had weakened it-- and after Peorth had rebuilt Kalia herself, with additional wacky Yggdrasil goodness.  Everything had changed so much that it might not even be a Bad Thing.

Meanwhile, a bemused Peorth spoke out loud to herslef as she watched Kalia fly away.  "Zees is très bizarre, no?  Why have I creeated le nouveau demon-god, and why has she deeparted like zees-- URK!!"

A lurking robot Yume had seen its chance.  It had sneaked up behind Peorth, to slap a used coffee filter over Peorth's face.  The Creterian coffee grinds proved to be as effective as chloroform. Peorth quickly fell unconscious and slumped over.

The robot Yume beckoned to its fellows.  They surrounded Peorth and bore her away to a hideously fan-servicey fate.  I mean, Peorth captured by half-a-dozen wacky super-genius robot cat-girls?  With that set-up, the next writer had better come up with a near-Nirvana of fan-service.


Ifurita-3 half-walked, half-stumbled up to a Bugrom guard that stood just outside the Floristica palace.

Her eyes were still bloodshot, but she had concealed them with cheap plastic sunglasses.  And she was still drooling a little, as she stuffed her face from a large bag of potato chips, trying to battle a sudden case of the munchies.

She had finally discarded her fuzzy white hotel bathrobe.  She remained barefoot, but she now wore a stained and threadbare long-sleeved shirt, ragged bell-bottom jeans, and an ankh on a long chain.  Her hair had gone all flat and straggly, and she had parted it in the middle without actually brushing it.

And there was a strange sickly-sweet smell about her.  It was a potpourri of incense, scented candles, and something else that was much more illegal.

"Vegetable rights and peace," the new Ifurita-3 said to the Bugrom guard, with a, uh, dopey giggle.

"eippih ytrid nmad uoy em morf yawa teg," the Bugrom said.

"Far out," Ifurita-3 said.  "Say, my man.  I'm lookin' for Deva.  I don' mean to bring ya down, but I gotta, like, kidnap her an' stuff, so that a future writer can have a hissy-fit cat-fight between her an' the Creterian Deva.  Dig?"

"ciffart yvaeh ni yalp og uoy tnod yhw." the Bugrom dug.

"Thass cool, man.  Thass beauty-ful."  Ifurita-3 draped herself against the sweat-dropping Bugrom in a not at all modest way, smooshing her bag of potato chips between them.  "Yer a beauty-ful person, man.  Er, bug.  Man."

"kcis eb ot gniog mi kniht i."

"Welp, I hate ta be a really selfish negative vibe merchant, but I gotta throw down on ya now. No rest fer the wicked, when yer workin' fer The Man.  Er, Bug.  Man."

After throwing down on the Bugrom, Ifurita-3 wandered away unsteadily, in the general direction of Deva's throne room.  She continued to giggle to herself, in a disturbing trippy kind of way.

Her nanites were unable to destroy her Bugrom possessor, but they were obviously impairing it greatly.  


Nahato had come to the illegal Creterian road-side dump with his "crack team"-- actually his six hapless clone-slaves, an unglued Bill and Alyssa (who were both so pre-occupied with each other that they might as well be glued together), and maybe a few other Phantom Tribe minions for window dressing.

"There!" Nahato shouted.  "There lies the salvation of the Phantom Tribe!"

"How did you find it so easily, sir?" asked Bill, without looking away from his dear Alyssa.

"My first clue," Nahato said with a great deal of snarkiness, "was the semi-naked demon god in a big glass tube with the name 'Minagi' on it.  Now quit mooning about and help me retrieve her!!"

Soon, Nahato and Bill were standing at Minagi's side.  They had opened up the tube, and Bill had draped a Phantom Tribe cloak over Minagi, after a dangerous look from Alyssa.

Minagi slowly opened her eyes.  As a Ryoko-model True Demon God, she did not have a power key staff.  She simply accepted Nahato, the first man she saw, as her Master.  "Oh...  Are you my Master?  Thank you for awakening me.  I exist only to serve your wishes and fulfill your needs."

Nahato cackled with glee.  "Excellent!  You have a much better attitude than Jinnistacia!"

Minagi smiled shyly.  "Um, could you please give me a hand?  This tube is cramped, and I feel a bit... disjointed..."

Nahato leaned down, took up Minagi's right arm, and helped her climb out of her tube.

"Oh dear," the standing Minagi said.  "Master?  Could you please give me a hand back?"

Nahato looked down, and saw that he was still holding Minagi's arm.  It had painlessly come off her shoulder.  "*eep*," said Nahato.  He gave it back to Minagi, and she snapped it back into place with a giggle.

Then Minagi stumbled in place, and noticed that one of her bare feet was still lying in her tube.  "Oops.  How did that happen?"  She reached back and took up her foot, then bent down and put it on her ankle, as if she were putting on a shoe.

Nahato sweat-dropped.  "Uh... are you... alright?"

"Of course," Minagi said.  "My creator Yakage did not quite complete my construction, but my AI and my weapons systems are fully functional.  Allow me to demonstrate."

She cupped her hands, formed a Ryoko-esque charge of energy, and flung it at a nearby chunk of Creterian junk.  It exploded quite nicely.

But Minagi was unable to brace herself against the recoil of her charge.  She had fallen flat on her back, and she had come apart like a cheap department store mannequin.  "Oh dear," her disembodied head said again, as it rolled a short distance away.

Nahato pulled a hand down his face in exasperation.  "What kind of comedy relief slash creepy experimental fan-service is this!?"

[rowan_a._seven]

"Mr. Londs, would you be kind enough to remind me again why there's an election scheduled for tomorrow afternoon that will decide the next ruler of Roshtaria?" Empress Diva asked a tad testily as she overlooked Florestica on the palace's rebuilt and now hexagonal balcony.  Princess Rune would've had a fit had she seen how the Bugrom had remodeled it...and then she'd probably angst some more.

Londs shrugged from where he stood behind her.  "Uncertain, my lady, although a possible explanation is that the nearly constant day-to-day crises the land has recently been experiencing has caused the citizenry to gain a new appreciation of life and, consequently, a desire to decide their own destinies...or at the very least to choose the one who'll be controlling the future for them.  Unfortunately, using a show of force to regain total control would be inadvisable right now due to the popular support a democratic election currently has.  Still, this situation is not a complete loss.  Unless provoked, I doubt even the Demon God Ifurita would annihilate a duly elected ruler.  Would you like to hear the results of the nonpartisan public poll recently taken, my queen?"

Empress Diva blinked and turned around in surprise.  "Mr. Londs, do you mean to tell me that a poll of popular opinion has already been taken despite news of this election being less than 5 hours old?"

"Yes, Florestica's public servants move very fast," Londs answered nonchalantly, opening a folder full of documents and retrieving one.  "Current polling places Princess Rune Venus and yourself each at 30%, Millie the Bratty War Orphan at 20%, Undecided at 15%, and Ura the Armor Cat at 5% with a margin of error of 2%.  It remains a mystery how Ura's name was added to the list of choices, but rest assured I have people looking into it."

He put the document away and pulled out a couple of wall posters, handing them to Diva who looked through them with a puzzled expression.  Londs calmly explained.  "They're negative campaign ads spread by supporters of Millie who are not 'officially' affiliated with her campaign.  One of the more common attacks appears to be accusing you of having a hive mentality and being more concerned about the collective than the individual worker-"

"But I _do_ have a hive mentality and am more concerned about the collective than the individual worker," Empress Diva interrupted, a confused look on her face.  "It's just plain common sense.  How is that a negative attack?"

"Let's just say that humans see things...slightly different and leave it at that, okay?" Londs answered, coughing once politely as he continued.  "Compared to Princess Rune Venus, though, you're actually making out rather well on the publicity front.  Princess Fatora has become so thoroughly affiliated with Princess Rune's reign that it's nearly impossible to seperate them, and that combined with the recent military defeat and the destruction of the old Eye of God has given Millie's supporters quite a lot of material to use.  Heck, I even noticed a few posters accusing her of war crimes and genocide against the Bugrom for wiping out your old hive with the Eye of God during the last war.  Regardless, you should stay positive and try to appear to be above petty politics.  Core groups of swing voters have little tolerance for mudslinging and put practical results above all else."

"Indeed," Empress Diva commented, sighing.  "I'd much rather focus on reconstruction and human/bugromitarian programs right now than an election.  Still, an empress must do what an empress must do, I suppose.  I just wish Mr. Jinnai was here to help us.  His political experience surely would be a great asset to us right now."  

******

Makoto had to be responsible for this somehow.  It was just his style.  Sure, you'd think that between the poison and whatever life-threatening adventure he'd undoubtedly gotten involved in he'd be too busy to plan this, but Jinnai had made a point of never underestimating Makoto's deviousness and knew that this was exactly like him.  

"Lock _me_ in a closet with four raving lesbians inside a seminary of beautiful, naked women that treat me like a god will you, Mizuhara?  Well, when I get out of here, you'll pay!  You'll pay dearly, Mizuhara!  I thought that keeping you completely dependent on my good graces for survival and a step away from death would be enough, but now I see that I was being too nice!" Jinnai ranted madly.  "Next time we meet I'll-"

"Shut up!  You're using up our air!" Alielle panted from atop Hatora's shoulders, having decided that she might as well move around a little bit.  Hatora didn't complain either.

"Kija noa edis bkreeet," Groucho piped up.

"Yes, it's _nice_ knowing that you can survive without oxygen for such a long period of time, but that doesn't help the rest of us at all!" Jinnai yelled.  "What we need is a brilliant plan to get out of here-"

"Dddroooot brraaaam bogodoso wada ban din," Groucho suggested.  

"Idiot!  Why didn't you say you could dig us out of here in the first place!" Jinnai demanded angrily.

"Abacu dani go-"

"Don't answer me!  Just get us out here immediately!" Jinnai ordered.  Groucho promptly obeyed and started tunneling with his feet and, when he'd gone down a little ways, his hands.  Dirt and stone were showered everywhere.

"I feel *cough* so dirty," Fatora commented, an amused smirk on her face.  Jinnai shuddered and ordered Groucho to dig faster.

Had they known that the temple was no longer under siege by Dr. Smiths or that an acolyte would stop by and open the supply closet door in another 15 minutes, they could've saved themselves a bunch of trouble.  Of course, this would've also eliminated the possibility that they'd tunnel into the Ancient Bugrom Cooperative's hive or the Phantom Tribe's new secret base at a key moment, but the odds of either of those events happening were astronomically slim.  Then again, the same thing can be said about most of this week on El-Hazard.

******

Ifurita-3, lumbering forward in a manner that was remarkably similar to that of a zombie (or somebody incredibly stoned), passed a poster and, with bleary, red eyes, read it.

Public debate between the candidates (Empress Diva, Princess Rune Venus, Millie the Bratty War Orphan, and Ura the Armor Cat!) in tomorrow's election tonight in Florestica!  Be there!

"Yeah, cool," she uttered, bad breath so pungent it wrinkled the paper.  "I'll, like, grab Ura and so totally be there, man!"

The impaired Ifurita unit didn't bother to think about how a political poster had ended up in the Ancient Bugrom Cooperative's hive.  Had she done so and taken the time to scan her surroundings, she might've noticed a chuckling Mouse Wearing Hat fleeing the scene.

******

Within Rune Venus campaign headquarters (which was still a dungeon, by the way), Dr. Semimad sighed and wondered how things had moved so fast.  One moment he'd been having a nice, logical discussion with Princess Rune, the next there had been word that an election was going to be held, and before he knew what had happened he'd been appointed his prisoner's campaign manager and had to prepare her for the pending public debate.  Honestly, it was almost like some omniscient being existing across twenty-two dimensions was manipulating and accelerating events using chaos theory!

The Guide sneezed.

[d.t.]

ooc: *wonders if the homage/plagarism will be spotted...*
ic:
Kalia quietly rose up into the air toward The Heckler of Rasillion, neatly avoiding the flying turtle things hurtling through the sky.  Her smile was so saccharine it defied belief and demanded its own PBS kids show right after Tellytubbies.  "Hello Mister Man," she said curiously.  "Whatcha doin'?"

The Heckler slowly inclined his head to regard her, little sparks flying from every inch of his body.  "I am afraid you cannot see it-"

"Why?" Kalia interrupted.

The Heckler looked even more upset than usual for a moment, but continued.  "You can't see it because we're cancelling each other out.  It's trying to send these messages to El-Hazard that would leave everyone's brains like tapiocca, but right now I'm blocking them."

"Why?"

The Heckler gritted its teeth.  It really should have had all its attention on the Mouth, but still... "Because this is what I was built to do.  And the Mouth needs to be stopped."

"Why?"

"Because it would be very bad if it turned everyone's minds to blamange!"

"Why?"  

"Because it just would, okay?  This thing was built to do something bad!"

"Why?"

And that gave the Heckler pause for a moment.  It really should have been focussing all its energy on The Mouth.  But at the same time, it decided that Kalia, in her current state, should probably be shielded from the darker side of humanity.  "Because sometimes people do very silly things," it explained.  "Now I'm really busy, can you maybe-"

"Okay-buh-bye!" Kalia grinned, slowly floating back down toward the ground.  A bird landed on her shoulder, and she regarded it with perfect innocence.  "Hello Birdie.  Will you be my friend?"  The bird tweeted for a moment, then flew off.  "Okay-buh-bye!" she called after it, waving happily.  



"Do you know what I'm going to do to those wretched bugs when I get free?" growled Shayla.  She had managed to roll her cocoon over to a sharp outcropping of rock, and, by skillfully rocking herself back and forth, had already managed to wear away the part covering her mouth.  At the moment she was continuing her work, making slow but certain progress.

"Um... no?" supplied Parnasse unhelpfully.  He would have helped, really, but he had been tied to a very smooth pillar, and there really wasn't anything to cut himself free with.  He couldn't really do much but eat, which he was doing.  Ura, meanwhile, was glaring mournfully at the mitten-like coverings the Bugrom had put over his paws.  The muzzle was quite annoying too.

"I'm going to skin them alive," Shayla replied, a tiny bit of frustration-induced-dementia finding its way into her voice.  "Yes.  Skin them alive.  Or remove their shells, whatever you do with Bugrom."

"Erm... that sounds unpleasant," frowned Parnasse.

"I'm going to tear their shells off. In little one inch strips."

"I'm not sure you can remove a shell in strips..."

"And then-"  She grunted in annoyance as the cacoon rolled too much one way, and it took her several more tries before she could scoot it back to the sharp outcropping.  Worse still, she had managed to roll into a puddle of water, which was just plain annoying.  "And then I'm going to rip off their little bug legs, and beat them to death with them."

"Geez.  Bloodthirsty much?"

Shayla didn't hear him.  She was in her own little world by now, and was already picturing the bugs burning.



Hassad and Khamid, chief scientists of the Phantom Tribe (and utterly humorless people) turned on the most powerful lights in their laboratory.  Hassad scratched his chin thoughtfully, while Khamid circled the pile of parts that Minagi had been reduced to.  

"Interesting," said Hassad, picking up one of Minagi's arms.

"A challenge," commented Khamid, picking up Minagi's head.

"Erm, hello?" tried Minagi.  The scientists ignored her.

"It will take time to properly finish the demon god's construction," remarked Hassad dryly.

"Master Nahato wants her ready before the clones are fully programmed," noted Khamid.

"Tricky," remarked Hassad, turning the arm this way and that, staring intently at the joints.

"But doable," finished Khamid, placing Minagi's head on her torso.

"Erm," tried Minagi again, but was again ignored.

"In the meantime?"  contributed Hassad.

"The Handyman's Helper, of course."

"Oh come on!" groaned Minagi as she saw them reach for the duct tape.



"And then," growled Shayla through clenched teeth.  She had done significant damage to the cacoon, and was now in the process of pushing it open from the inside.  Bit by bit it was ripping.  "I'm going to hang them from the tallest tree outside of Florestica, as a warning to all the other bugs.  And then..."

"I think they'd be dead from the last few things you did," said Parnasse.

"Probably, yeah," agreed Millie.  She walked calmly into the little cavern, flanked by Afura and Ishiel, squads of mice in hats trailing after her as if she was the Pied Piper.  The Guide was not with them.

"ack," said Shayla.

"eep," said Parnasse.

"gah," said Ura.

"arg," said Parnasse.

"ngh," said Shayla.

"Yes, I know.  I am amazing, aren't I?" said Millie with a smirk.  She gestured to the cacoon, and a moment later the mice were on it, neatly ripping it to shreds.  Before she even knew what was going on Shayla was free.

The Great Priestess Of Fire rubbed her arms, trying to get the circulation back.  "I was just about to free myself!" she sulked, a little peevishly.

"Of course you were," sighed Afura, patting Shayla on the back.  

"I so was!" growled Shayla, stamping her foot in frustration.  Of course, she manged to stamp right in a puddle, so she looked and felt a little silly.  "What the heck are you guys even doing here?" she asked, trying to pretend she hadn't just done something stupid.  "And who's the weirdo?"

"And why mice?" hissed Ura.  The mice with hats were surrounding him, suspiciously.

"I'm Millie," interjected Millie helpfully, "the head of this little rescue operation.  We're here to save you, along with..." she looked up at the ceiling.  "Afura, Shayla, my little bird demon god thingy said you should take a few steps to your left at this point."  

Afura did so without question, much to Shayla's puzzlement and Ishiel's amusement.  "What-" began Shayla, but she couldn't get any further, on account of the ceiling giving way and depositing a small amount of dirt on her.  Followed by Fatora, Gatora, Hatora, Allielle, Groucho, and Jinnai, in that order.  As luck would have it, some of the cold water managed to get splashed on Jinnai as he landed, before anyone could see his face.

Millie sighed.  "I did try to tell you to move, Shayla."

"So you did," groaned Shayla, somewhere underneath the pile of (mostly ecstatic) women.

Millie smiled.  Having two of the priestesses on her side was great.  But the love potion in her pocket meant she could buy the loyalty of a third priestess, and that, The Guide had told her, would help a lot.



Gatora and Hatora's ninjas were moping around, feeling awful.  "There's nowhere we haven't looked?" said one.

"Nowhere," sighed another.

"But what will we do without some attractive bossy woman to tell us what to do, and to fawn over?"

"And to do strange missions for, like sitting on people's heads?"

CHI-

All the ninjas turned to stare at the part of an axe sticking out of thin air.

[MrWhat]

Makoto's flying carpet had borne him away from his Ifurita, at least somewhat to his own relief.  After instantaneously scanning the contents of Yume's DVD-R, she had given him a look of complete surprise.  And, to Makoto's dread, it was a look of at least somewhat pleasant surprise.

But Makoto's relief was short-lived.  He couldn't assert control of his flying carpet.  It bore him through the narrow and twisty alleys of the Floristica palace-town at Disney's Aladdin breakneck speeds.  He was too busy screaming, and holding on for dear life, to focus his ability on it.

The carpet inevitably flew too close under a protruding shop sign.  WHAM!!  Makoto's body painfully accordion'ed against the sign, then fell to the cobblestone street.  The carpet flew away without him.  It was long gone by the time Makoto shook off his fall and got back on his feet.

The carpet would eventually run through the scrambled flight instructions that Makoto had unknowingly given it, and then it would automatically return to him.  But it had a predictable plot development to fulfill, en route.


"Doctor?" said Tina.  "I know I keep saying this, and I know you keep ignoring me.  But I think you really, really, really should sit down and try to rest for awhile."

"Mmffffmm!!" the Tenth Doctor said.  "Mmmmffffmm mmff ffmmffffmmmmff mmff nmffmm mmmmffffmm!!"

Tina grimaced.  "Doctor!  There's no need for such foul language!"

"MMffffmm!!" the Doctor said again, just as he stepped around a corner, and just before he got whacked by a runaway flying carpet.

Tina shrieked.  "DOCTOR!!"  She ran to what was left of the sad little body of the Tenth Doctor.  He had obviously suffered a fatal rugburn.

Tina knew that the Doctor could regenerate, but tears still came quickly.  She hung her head over the Doctor's body, then raised her tear-stained face to the sky, and screamed in anguish, even as the Eleventh Doctor came to life.

"OH MY GOD!!  THEY KILLED THE DOCTOR AGAIN!!  THE BASTARDS!!"


The Guide smirked to itself, in a smart-assed kind of way.  Three down, two to go, it thought.


Nanami emerged from her dimensional portal within Fatora's clones' seminary.  She briskly walked past the idle ninjas, and went to a nearby bulletin board.  She pulled a small handwritten poster from a sheath in a satchel, and posted it on the seminary Situations Vacant area.  Then she left for the next bulletin board on her route.  CHINK!!

Several ninjas crowded round to see what the strange yet attractive bossy woman had posted.

WANTED:  A small army of highly disciplined young women, in peak mental and physical condition, willing and able to give themselves to a frankly ridiculous cause.

Duties include attacking and subduing villagers possessed by alien Bugrom, pinning them to the ground, and sitting on their heads, in order to deliver a deus ex machina cure.

Benefits include attacking and subduing villagers, pinning them to the ground, and sitting on their heads.  Flirting and indecent proposals following head-sitting duties are not guaranteed, but they may be expected.

Equipment and supplies provided at no cost.  Experience with sitting on heads is preferred, but not required.  If you require training, please bring your own alien-Bugrom-possessed villager for demonstration purposes.

If interested, please report to the Damn Volcano, fer crapssakes.

The election candidates' debate had begun.  The four candidates stood behind lecterns on a low stage, under uncomfortably hot lights, in front of a large audience.  Except for Ura-- it sat on top of its lectern.

The debate moderator asked the Princess Rune Venus her first question.  By terrible coincidence, it was the very question that Dr. Semimad had posed, shortly before his conversion from torturer to debate coach.

"Do you truly believe that you can do a better job ruling the world than Empress Deva!?" the moderator demanded.

Rune gasped.  Then she hung her head, and fought back tears.  A terrible silence filled the hall.

Behind the stage, Dr. Semimad slapped his forehead.  "D'OH!!"


Deva fared little better in the debate.  "Is it true that, since you came to power, you have spent most of your time making wild passionate love with your domestic advisor?" the moderator asked.

Londs strode forwards, past Deva.  He stood at Deva's lectern, and glared at the debate audience.  Then he spoke slowly and clearly, softly beating the lectern with his fist to emphasize his point.  "I did not! have inappropriate sexual relations! with that Bugrom Queen!"


As the cameras were trained on Ura, Millie turned to the Guide.  "This is easier than I dared hope!  And with the public endorsement of three elemental priestesses, my victory tomorrow is-- what?  What is it?"

The Guide was trembling.  "Forgive me, Millie.  A concentrated field of Uncertainty has suddenly converged on this debate hall.  I can no longer predict the outcome of this debate with any... certainty."

Millie gasped, and turned back to the debate, just in time to hear Ura's predictable response to its first question.

"GAH!!"

The debate audience suddenly came alive with excited whispers.  "Oh!  How CUTE!  Isn't Ura CUTE?  It's so CUTE!!"

Somewhere in the audience, Schrodinger's Cat-Girl Jinnistacia snickered to herself.  She had decided to give the Armor-Cat Party a boost in the polls.  And she had only just begun to make things Uncertain.


The first of the Phantom Tribe hybrid clone slaves was finally ready.  The youngest clones were emerging from their breeding machine, naked and dripping with fan-servicey semi-transparent goo.  The clones of the older adventurers still required further careful maturation.

Clone-Ura had come out first, earlier in the day.  Clone-Alielle had come out next, just a few minutes ago.  True to her genetic heritage, clone-Alielle had immediately glomped Alyssa, in a sticky semi-transparent goo kind of way.  A protesting Alyssa had wondered why she kept getting into sticky situations, as Bill's nose had bled.

Nahato was summoned as clone-Kauru emerged next, in a similar fan-servicey fashion.  She was arguably the most important of the clone set, and Nahato had requested that he be alerted when she was ready.

A smiling Nahato held out a hand, to hold clone-Kauru's hand and steady her, as his scientists and minions toweled her off and clothed her.  He spoke to her.  "Welcome to your destiny, slave.  You shall now know the honor of serving the Phantom Tribe-- what?  What is it?"

Clone-Kauru had recoiled from him in sheer terror.  She raised one trembling hand, and pointed at Nahato's shoulder.  Nahato turned his head, and saw a large beetle resting on his shoulder.

Nahato was about to learn that clone-Kauru was also true to her genetic heritage.

"A BUG!!  YEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!"


"Oh, dear Nahato.  Please don't cry."

"WHY, my Lord Galus!?  Why were all the other unborn clones destroyed in Kauru's outburst!?  WHY!?  Has the universe forsaken me!?  Does reality hate me!?"

"Well, you are a particularly nasty little brat, you know.  It's a bit late to be looking for sympathy from the fan-boys, now."

"It's just not FAIR!!  I don't WANNA be comedy relief any more!!  But I might as well just ask Jinnistacia to super-glue a pair of cheap Groucho Marx glasses to my face!"

"Calm yourself, Nahato.  Yes, Clone-Kauru destroyed the unborn clones with her entomophobia.  But you still have her.  You still have the last living being that bears the genetic markup of the Northern Capital weaponers.  You still have the clone-slave that can take control over our enemies' demon gods, and bring about our final revenge in a Cloud of Tears."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Well, you also have a clone of a loveable wacky lesbian sidekick, and a clone of the armor cat that is currently leading the polls to be the next ruler of the world-wide Bugrom Empire."


Nanami, Crayna, Al-Zahad and insect-Kauru stood at the foot of the Damn Volcano.  They watched, as a volunteer army of female ninjas, advanced seminary acolytes, and a few other random wacky female nymphomaniacs, went through a last round of head-sitting exercises.

Nanami grinned.  "Those alien Bugrom won't know what hit 'em.  Right, guys?... uh, guys?"

Crayna was looking up at Al-Zahad.  He was distantly staring into space.

Then he hung his head.  "Forgive me, Master Crayna.  Another of the ancient weaponers has awakened, and she has super-ceded your control.  I must obey her summons."

The usually unflappable Crayna didn't take this news well.  "Guh-- nuh-- uh--"

Al-Zahad bowed.  "I shall return to your side, if and when I can do so.  For what it is worth, you were perhaps my wisest and kindest Master.  And the red Speedo shall remain our secret."

With obvious regret, Al-Zahad left the ground, and rose high into the air.  He quickly diappeared over the horizon, in the general direction of the Desert of Bleached White Bones, and the ancient stone formation commonly known as Kingfisher.

Nanami was shocked.  She silently watched him fly away, with wide eyes and open mouth.  Then she came to herself, and turned to Crayna.  "Uh, Miss Crayna?...  Are you?..."

Crayna also hung her head.  She sniffled, and rubbed at her eyes, before she glanced up at Nanami with a shaky smile.  "Ah well.  Jus' like a man, innit?  E'en the boy-toy demon god of a retired and middle-aged yet still devastatingly beautiful fire priestess canna be faithful.  Ah well..."

"I'm sorry, Crayna.  I don't know what to say."

"Don' worry, hon."  Crayna put a friendly arm round Nanami's shoulders.  "Best thing fer it is ta get blind stumblin' drunk.  But I'd be honored if ye would keep me company whilst I get pissed."

Nanami glanced over her shoulder.  "Oh.  Um, okay.  These girls are ready to attack the alien Bugrom possessed villagers.  I guess we could go back to your shack now--"

"Nah.  Let's head inta town.  Tain't near enough booze in my shack ta get me soused."

Nanami gulped.


Clone-Kauru turned away from her control amplifier equipment.  "It is done, Master Nahato.  The demon god Ibn Al-Zahad is on his way to serve us."

"Well, that's a welcome rare success," Nahato noted.  "What of your attempts to control Jinnistacia?"

Clone-Kauru bit her lip.  "Um, I didn't quite understand her response.  But she said to tell you that she was working on a completely insoluble new adhesive-- one that would take a couple of weeks to wear off.  And that she would be happy to return long enough to demonstrate it on--"

Nahaot held up a hand to cut her off.  "NO!!  Er, I mean, let's decline her kind offer, and leave her to her business."

"'Kay," said clone-Kauru.

She and Nahato both suddenly heard a yelp.  They turned to look behind them, and saw that a happy clone-Alielle had glomped a duct-taped Minagi a little too hard.  The sweet but hapless demon god had mostly come apart again in the clone's embrace.

Nahato rubbed his temples, with a pained expression.  "Oy vey!..."


Peorth slowly regained consciousness.

She found herself unable to move.  At first, she assumed that she had just got all tangled up in her belts again.  But as her vision cleared, she found that her predicament was much more fan-servicey than that.

She was in a hastily-constructed alternate-dimension laboratory, suspended in a tangle of metallic tentacles, in a Tenchi Masaki in Washu's laboratory kind of way.  True to the Tenchi Muyo! OVA, she even had a circlet of flashing lights on her head, and a small clamp on her tongue.

Peorth looked back up, and gasped.  The robot Yumes had surrounded her.  As if half a dozen wacky super-genius robot cat-girls weren't fan-servicey enough-- the robot Yumes were all wearing fetishey nurse uniforms.

Then she saw the dolphin bear standing behind the robot Yumes, adjusting a video camera on a tripod with the babump.com logo on its side.

And then, she saw the short wide glass booth full of yogurt.

Peorth whimpered, and spoke out loud to herself.  Her tongue clamp served to make her cartoonish French accent even more difficult to understand.  "Theeth theemply eeth not my betht croth-over, n'etht-the path?"

[d.t.]

"That'll learn him to bust my tomater!" cackled Nahato's (divorced) mother, her extra chins jiggling with glee.  She was wearing the uniform of the Phantom Tribe janitorial staff, and leaning slightly on her broom.  "Kya-ha... just like you said, they didn't even notice me walk in there and empty that jar of bugs.  And boy were you guys on the ball about what would happen next!"  She giggled in evil glee, rubbing her pudgy hands together.  "You and me, boys, we're going right to the top!  Nahato'll come crawling back to me, soon enough, and you two will get your reward!"  She positively bounced off the walls with adrenaline, pacing back and forth so quickly that her prodigious weight seemed to be flying in all directions at once.  More than once she narrowly missed knocking over a complicated piece of machinery, although Hassad and Khamid didn't even look up from their work.  Grinning in an ingratiating manner, she walked right up to Hassad and tapped him on the shoulder.  "What's that thing you're working on?"

Hassad lifted up a device that looked similar to a deringer, but with a needle at the end.  "A powerful mutagen," he explained.  "It alters body perspiration to create a powerful anti-adhesive agent."

"So you don't get glued?" said Nahato's (former) mother, nodding as if she was giving the idea her approval.  she looked around the lab again.  "No photographs.  You two don't get out much, do you?"

"Our work takes up our time," replied Khamid, typing away at a computer terminal.

"No girlfriends I take it... hang on, are you two a couple?"

Hassad flicked on a small centrifuge.  "Yes," he said simply.

"Not sure I approve of that," muttered Nahato's (former) mother, loud enough to show she wanted to be heard.  "No, not sure about that at all.  Think I'm going to make some changes in the laws, around here, once I'm in charge again.  And once I've got my wretched boy married to one of those girls.  'Course getting back my stuff is my first conc-" Nahato's (former) mother's tirade was cut short as a thin tongue of flame burst from her chest.  She looked down at it in horror, and had jsut enough time to let out a little scream before turning to vapor.

"Thank you," breathed Khamid, not even turning away from his workstation as the woman met her demise.  "I was starting to wonder if she would ever cease her yammering."

"That was very interesting though," commented Hassad.  "I believe the flame went through her left subclavian artery."

"And she had time to react?" supplied Khamid.  "That is unusual."  He stood up from his lab stool and gazed through the thinning mist that had once been a fellow tribemember.  A clone of Shayla-Shayla, wearing the dark lamp of fire, stared back at him.

CHI-

As one Khamid and Hassad turned and regarded the part of an axe sticking out of thin air.  It was jet black, and utterly devoid of ornamentation.

INK!  The axe finished cleaving a portal in space, and a blue skinned clone of Nanami stepped through it, followed by clones of the other heroes, as well as Ibn-Al Zahad.



"'Ere," said the head of the Bakers, confectioners, and piano movers, "wot I wonts to know is, why should I vote for someone 'ats got mice backin' 'er up?  I mean, they're the little meances wot eat my profits!"

Millie rallied herself reamarkably well.  "Actually, if you think about it, it makes sense.  The mice with hats are intelligent.  They would gladly leave a store alone, provided they were given a certain tax... say a loaf of bread every once in a while... and in return they would be able to guard your establishments against unintelligent creatures."  Since the Bugrom had taken over, there had been a redistribution of power in the El-Hazard guilds.  The various people working with food were by far the most powerful now - you could trust Bugrom with construction, but not food preperation.

It just didn't seem sanitary.

"My question is for Queen Diva," voiced a woman in the audience.  Diva nodded uncomfortably, still not used to this whole 'democracy' idea.  "My husband's a construction worker.  Thanks to you, he's out of a job."

Diva smiled weakly.  Londs quickly answered the question.  "You will still recieve pay, even if you aren't working."

"That's not the problem!" shouted the woman angrily, "He loves getting paid for not working, but I don't love having him at home all day, sitting around, gaining weight!"  

Several other people in the crowd, unhappy with having more time with their spouses, chimed in.  Rune Venus smiled to herself.



Shayla-Shayla sat with the other priestesses, off stage.  She had a great deal to think about.  Shortly before the debate had started, Millie had taken her aside.  And the two had talked.

There had been a picture of Princess Fatora in the room.  Millie had noticed the way Shayla had looked at it.  "Amazing resemblence to the Earth-Boy, I'm told.  IS that true?"

Shayla had blushed and looked away.  "I'm sure I haven't noticed.  Not my business what he looks like, or who he looks like... er... at."

Millie had laughed.  'Good grief, you're smitten aren't you?" she had laughed.  Shayla had bristled.

"No!  He's nice but he's... I just think he's nice is all.  Nothing else.  Besides, he's with Ifurita."

Millie had nodded.  "Yes, the machine that tried to kill us all a while back.  But you're right, if he's remained completely faithful to her-"  Millie had stopped there, staring intently at Shayla.  "Has he?"

"Well... there was once, with another Ifurita..."

Millie had laughed again.  "But you have a chance then!  Go for the guy wou want!"

"Look, I never said I want anyone!" Shayla had retorted.

Millie had shrugged.  "I guess that makes sense.  After all, I know a Great Priestess of Fire wouldn't let some machine beat her."

"Yeah..."

"I know how brave you are, I'm sure you'd have at least told him your feelings... if you were interested."

"Well... Yeah..."

"And I know you'll fight for what you want, to your last breath."  Millie had gone on, moving closer to Shayla.  The Priestess fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Well, I don't know.  I mean, I know how to fight fight, but lovey dovey stuff..."

"Oh I know all about romance," purred Millie, "If you ever needed any help... well, I know of a few ways to ruin even the most perfect of relationships.  Make the people invovled realize it wasn't so perfect after all.  Make people realize who they're really destined to be with..."

It was damne trite dialogue, but it had been the sort of thing Shayla had wanted to hear.  That there was hope, that she could win Makoto's heart, that Ifurita wasn't really competition, just a mistake.  A machine.  Millie had poured on the honeyed words up to the start of the debate, and Shayla had listened.  Looking at her fellow priestesses, she noted that Afura had fallen sleep leaning against Ishiel, smiles plastered across both faces.  She made up her mind.  She would take Millie's help, she would fight for Makoto.  She would do what she had to, to break Ifurita and Makoto up.



"Splendid," remarked Khamid, taking readings of Ibn Al-Zahad.

"And you had no problems finding him?" asked Hassad.  A blue skinned and white haired clone of Kauru shook her head.  "And the rest of you," he turned and looked at the other clones, "no problems with the lamps or ring?  You abilities all working correctly?  Splendid, splendid."

Ibn Al-Zahad crossed his arms over his bronzed and muscled chest, speaking in a low voice tinged with slight menace.  "What exactly is going on?" he growled.

The two scientists looked him over with more curiosity than fear.  "A private little coup, actually," explained Hassad.  "The leader of our tribe intended to take control of you, using a clone."

"The clone that he has, however, is faulty," continued Khamid.  "As you've no doubt detected by now, her rate of cellular apoptosis is vastly accelerated.  She is not long for this world.  Our clones, on the other hand, are quite healthy."

Hassad laughed mirthlessly.  "Of course we have copies of all the clones.  Scientists always keep back-up copies."

"Although ours are loyal to us," added Khamid.

"Yes," picked up Hassad, "and we also took note of some peculiarities of the originals.  They show compassion.  Therefore we have randomly selected members of the original party, and isntructed the clones to be in 'love' with them."

"We believe," said Khamid dryly, "that the originals will show reluctance to kill clones that are displaying emotion.  Particularly 'love', which they seem to consider very human."

"A failing," noted Hassad, "that our servants do not possess.  They will even kill the ones they 'love', if so instructed."

"Cellular degeneration," interupted the demon god.  "An extremely painful death." Al-Zahad frowned deeply.  He did not like these men.

The scientists shared another glance.  They were the sort of natural evil that always showed up when science was pursued without morality, as sure as plague showing up in rats.  "I would imagine it's an agonizing death," agreed Khamid thoughtfully, shrugging a shrug that let everyone know that, while the world had many problems, this one was not one of his.  "Although we never really considered it.  We just wanted a hastened death.  One that would quickly leave the other clone in a state that you could not serve it.  You can't serve the other clone, correct?"

Al-Zahad narrowed his eye in disgust.  Scientists playing god, never even caring about the pain they caused.  Yes, this was familiar.  "Her cellular state has progressed to the point that I am more loyal to your clone, yes.  I suppose you'll want me to kill the one she serves?"

The scientists shook their heads.  "Actually, we think his plan is splendid," pointed out Hassad, "turning the entire world to Phantom Tribe.  There's definitely something to it.  We just want to be the ones in charge at the end, is all."

"We were the two scientists that did most of the work taking over the original Eye of God," bragged Khamid.  "We deserve to be in power."

"But," continued Hassad, "We want Nahato there to watch as we take power.  That would be Splendid.  He has not treated us well."

Khamid looked worried.  "I'm surprised you showed concern about the 'pain' of the other clone.  Perhaps we should reset your settings."

Al-Zahad bristled.  That would wipe his memories of Crayna.  He did not want that, but he couldn't argue with his masters.

"There would probably some loss in efficiency," sighed Hassad.  "I doubt his core kernal is compromised.  We should leave him."

Khamid shrugged.  "Very well.  But I think we should do something about Uruak's... problem."  The two scientists looked at the Kauru clone thoughtfully.  She looked back at them, a little worried.

"M... masters?  How may I-"

"Silence clone," interuppted Hassad.  "Khamid, do you remember experiment D - 9 - D?

Khamid tilted his head back, trying to recall.  "Ah!" he said with a grin.  "Splendid!  After all, Uruak's phobia is entirely triggered by visual input."  He turned his attention back to the Kauru clone.  "Uruak, please blind yourself."

Hassad turned to look at the horrified Al-Zahad.  "In experiment D-9-D," he explained, looking like something found in a very deep hole that had been shoved into a labcoat, "we sewed shut kittens' eyes, to see if they'd go blind.  We suspected they would, and were right.   But sometimes you just have to test things."




"So you're saying you have no information on the strange Bugrom seen near the outlying villages?"

"No!" said Londs, exhasperated.  "I keept telling you we have no 'new' species of Bugrom, and there are no Bugrom in those villages!"

Another hand shot up in the audience.  "Sorry," said the speaker, "but you said no new 'species'.  What about phylum?  Or order?"

Londs rolled his eyes heavenward, unable to believe just how pigheaded people could be.  "Read my lips!  No.  New.  Taxa!"



[SOL]

Crow, Mike, Tom:  *GROOOOAN.*



"How do you explain that you've lost the support of the Bugrom Demon Gods, your own people?  They say you let other Bugrom pick on them because they look silly!"

"But, but, but," stuttered Diva, "they do look silly!"

There was a murmmer of agreement from the audience.  Apparently the answer had been satisfying.  But she had lost the silly looking people vote.



"Gah!" said Ura.  His supporters applauded.  The person who had asked the question sat down, satisfied.

"'Ere, I gots a question for the cat," spoke up the head of the Baker's guild.  "Dem Bugrom, dey say dey're going to give us whatever we want, an we don' have to work for it.  But what if wot I wonts is respect, eh?  What do you have to say to the people of Floristica that just want to be respected?"

Ura raised his paw and extended his middle claw in response, much to the surprise of everyone in the room, particularly Ura.  The claw moved quite fast, quickly flipping off the entire audience and the other speakers."

"WHAT?" shrieked Diva.

"THE?"  gasped Rune.

"HELL?" gaped Ura.

Millie turned to Ishiel, her head of counteradvertising (and a powerful illusionist) and smiled.  "If I might take a moment," she said after the boos and hisses stopped, "I'd like to address and earlier question.  As a matter of fact, there is an alien Bugrom threat in the outlying villages... can I have the lights please?  Turn on my projector Afura, thankyou... as you can see here..."

"D'OH!" exclaimed Londs and Diva.

[rowan_a._seven]

"No, it can't...be," Empress Diva gasped in shock as the images of the Creterian Bugrom were projected onto the screen.  "They're supposed to be...extinct."

"Na-uh!  We're, like, so totally back, man!" Ifurita-3 shouted cheerfully as she rose into the air from where she'd been sitting innocuously among the rest of the audience, twitching uncontrollably every other minute.  "A new world order is coming, dudes, and we're going to overthrow everything!  Down with the government!  Down with individuality!  Down with the...well, down with getting down!  Embrace the Ancient Bugrom Cooperative, mammals, 'cause WE ARE THE FUTURE!  Hahahaheheheheheeheeheeheehohoho!"

Realizing that she'd gained everyone's attention, Ifurita-3 made a peace sign, grabbed Diva, and alternately wobbled and zigzagged out of the public debate hall.  Diva's shrill protests and struggles were to no avail.

"...Well, that was unexpected," the debate moderator said after a moment of stunned silence as the Guide mutely chuckled.  Then, seeing that people were starting to panic and that Londs had left to form a search party, the moderator rushed to reassure the audience.  "But don't worry, folks!  This public debate will go on...with the added presence of the newest candidate, Princess Myuun the Traitor, Ruler of Baron!"

Doing her best not to wince at her newest title, Myuun glided onto the stage, smiled winningly at the crowd, and assumed a position behind Diva's abandoned lectern.  Smirking nearly imperceptibly, her eyes met the Guide's, and the Guide blinked, coming close to feeling surprised.  To the Guide, mortals (and even immortals) were an open book, unable to hide anything from him.  Myuun, however, was completely closed.  Where she should exist on the higher planes there was only an opaque darkness that completely blocked his penetrating sight.  Granted, this was only a minor inconvenience since he could still extrapolate, but still...it would've been annoying to anybody but the Guide.

"So, Princess Myuun," the debate moderator asked after a relative semblance of calm had been restored, "after convincing the entire Alliance minus Roshtaria to surrender to the Bugrom Empire, why have you decided to run in this election against the Bugrom Queen?"

Myuun took the stage and gazed at the audience with warm, benevolent, persuasive eyes.  As her vision swept across and took in everyone there, for one brief moment each individual felt like they were the most important person present, that they're lives truly mattered.  The Ruler of Baron soon had their full attention.

"Because it is time for change," Myuun answered simply, honestly, the first hints of passion entering her voice.  "Because we're standing on the dawn of a new age, and the decisions we make here and now will not only affect us but our children and our children's children and their children for generations to come.  Peoples of Roshtaria, please, lend me your ears and listen with your hearts.  Allow me to speak and answer your questions.  Permit me to-"

"I'm sorry, Myuun, but your time is up.  It's time for another candidate to..." the debate moderator trailed off as Myuun turned her expressive red eyes on him.  He suddenly felt...guilty, as if he was doing something wrong.  Would it really be so bad if he let the princess continue to speak?  No, of course not.  "Then again, seeing as how you only recently entered this race, I suppose we could permit you to speak a little longer.  It's only fair to give all of you equal screen time, after all."

"Thank you, moderator," Myuun said gratefully, smile so beautiful it filled with the moderator's entire body with warmth.  She turned back to the audience and continued her speech.  "Permit me to lead you, all of you, regardless of your pasts and histories, heritage and differences, into the future.  I am-"

It is worth noting that, a long time ago, one of Myuun's ancestors, tired of always caving in to his wife's demands, had commissioned a secret study to find out _why_ he always caved in to his wife's demands.  The commission's first answer was that the king was a coward who couldn't stand up to his wife.  Myuun's ancestor's reply was to declare that couldn't be right, behead the members of that commission, and then authorize another commission with the order to find a different answer.  

"Princess Rune, though her heart is kind, is an antiquated relic of the past.  She will not...cannot...bring about the changes the world wants...no, needs!  Should she be elected and regain her throne, this cycle of the ages will repeat endlessly and the crises we're facing will only grow worse."

Needless to say, the second commission did come up with a different answer, arguing that it was a combination of vocal talents, body motions, facial expressions, and vivid eyes that allowed the king's wife to win every argument the couple had.  Intrigued, the king had demanded that the commission study this phenomenon further.  The commission (which had been made up entirely by men) argued that this was impossible, to which the king replied by also beheading them and funding a nearby (and female) seminary to pursue this research.  

"Empress Diva's reign would be both the best and the worst.  Her benevolent dictatorship would bring previously inconceivable prosperity and order to El-Hazard, but at the cost of what truly makes us individuals and alive.  A world without strife, a world without trouble, a paradise of perfect contentment, denies us of the fundamental nature that makes life worth living!  It's the journey that matters and not the destination!"

The king had soon after been beheaded by his son (there were a lot of beheadings in Baron back in those days) who assumed the throne, and the order was forgotten by everybody but the seminary whose members dutifully researched this topic for generations, composing a ten book treatise on the subject which had finally been finished a mere decade ago.  The priestesses faithfully sent their manuscripts to the Baron monarchy, and the current Baron king, having no idea what they were, gave them to a curious Myuun as a birthday present.  She read, memorized, and mastered the knowledge contained within them.

"As for Millie, let's not speak of her motivations and her inexperience.  Rather, I ask you to remember that she is still young.  Do you really want to consign such a beautiful child to the stifling, monotonous world of politics?  To hoist the weight of the entire world on her shoulders and deny her the freedom of youth that you all enjoyed?  That she still has a chance to enjoy?  Before appointing her as your next leader, I plead with you, not for my sake but for hers and as one who has known the sorrows of power, that you first let her have a childhood!"

Unfortunately, the manuscripts and all copies had been lost in a terrible fire not long thereafter, but Myuun had already learned what she needed to know.  She had spent hours each day training every component of her body to act in unison to evoke the responses she desired.  She could charm with a smile, terrify with a chuckle, captivate with a wave, and destroy with a glare, but most of all she could persuade.  She was a master not only of public speaking but also of public expression.

"And Ura, despite his incredible cuteness, is still an armor cat.  Tell me, do you want an armor cat with a weakness for nice smells to govern you?"

Offstage, an untraceable dart struck Ishiel, interrupting her concentration as she attempted to weave an illusion to discredit the newest candidate and injecting her with a poison that should dampen the half Phantom Triber's illusionist talents until the election was over.  The Ruler of Baron had come prepared.

Rich, vibrant voice reaching a passionate crescendo and with the audience hanging on her every word, Myuun finished her speech with a declaration that would cement her position as a serious contender in this election.

"And my first order of business, should you elect me, will be to throw Princess Fatora in a dungeon for the rest of her natural life!"

The audience erupted in loud, excited cheers.

******

Ifurina-3 dropped Empress Diva in front of Diva's throne and then found a comfortable place to watch events, twitching and spasming sporadically.  The two Bugrom queens stared at each other for one long moment, holding their breath as they took in the sight of the other.  However, deep in their hearts they both knew that this meeting could only end one way and that they were merely delaying the inevitable for a few precious seconds.  

"Diiiiivaaaaaa," the Creterian Bugrom Queen declared solemnly, rising to her full height.

"Diva," the Empress concurred, getting to her feet.

"Diva!" they both yelled as they hurled themselves at each other.  

What happened next was too brutal to be called a cat fight.  Ancient instincts seizing control of both, the two Bugrom queens fought each other with frightening intensity, tearing flesh and breaking limbs with no regard for their own injuries.  It was a gruesome, horrifying, primal spectacle, each combatant focusing entirely on killing the other and ignoring everything else for one simple, undeniable reason.

There can be only one!

******

"Zroot ca kaom?" Groucho asked the still female Jinnai as they marched through the desert...or rather as Groucho marched through the desert with Jinnai on his back.

"Because spending time with those priestesses is bad luck!  Had we traveled back to Roshtaria with them there's no telling what new torment we'd experience!" Jinnai answered testily, desperately hoping that her (now incredibly tight in certain places) school uniform wouldn't burst apart at the seams.    
 
Unfortunately for Jinnai, her troubles weren't over yet.

"Kaiz ni tat?" Groucho asked curiously, pointing at something on the horizon.

"How should I know what that is?  It's probably just a-"

BAM!

A moment later, Jinnai find herself plastered against Makoto who was holding onto his recently returned flying carpet with a death grip.  Groucho was dangling off the back end and clutching the tassels with his full strength as the carpet headed off into terra incognito.  

******

Bloody, bruised, but not broken, Empress Diva weakly stood over her fallen opponent, a tired but victorious grin on her face.  "Any last words?"

"...Di...va," the Creterian Queen choked out, smirking, as her maimed body quivered, transformed, and began to grow.  The Empress stood back in shock as the tables quickly turned, and she found herself face to face with her ancestor's true form.  

"Diva!" the rejuvenated Creterian Queen shouted triumphantly, preparing to end this battle once and for all.

Empress Diva, seeing her death approach and everything she had worked and labored for about to be destroyed, screamed.

This was not a normal scream.

All across El-Hazard, Bugrom of all types and varieties reacted, turning their heads in the Empress' direction.  The Creterian Bugrom, under assault by female ninjas, yelled and clutched their heads in pain.  Jinnai experienced a headache that would put one of Fujisawa's hangovers to shame.

The Creterian Bugrom Queen was a creature of instinct and genetic memory.  She could adapt and through her parasites duplicate the achievements of others, but she was still controlled by her inherited drives and single mind.  Empress Diva, however, was something more.  She was not just the Diva; she was every Diva.  Past to present formed a single, uninterrupted continuum of consciousness, transferred from one generation to the next and constantly learning and evolving.  When she cried out across the collective, it wasn't just her voice but the voice of every one of her ancestors and all previous generations that cried out with her.  Against this mental force the Creterian Queen didn't stand a chance.

With a scream of absolute agony, the Ancient Queen fell for the last time, her consciousness ripped to shreds.  In her defeat she was joined by her brood, their minds destroyed.  One by one the parasites died, freeing their hosts who eagerly volunteered to have the now dead bugs removed by the female ninjas.  The termite bugrom collapsed, defeated, leaving only their lifeless exoskeletons behind.    

Panting, Diva joined her 'sister' on the ground and winced.  Her body would completely heal itself in a few hours, but the physical and mental pain would remain for some time.  The sound of crying drew her attention, however, and the Empress turned to find a weeping Ifurita-3.

"What's wrong with me?!" the Demon Goddess screeched, body wracked with sobs as it destroyed and ejected the Ancient Bugrom Demon God.  "Why can't I...why do I...why am I so confused?!!  I love Makoto...but I don't really...I want this...but I don't...why...what...is this...000111001010101..."

Ifurita-3 turned desperate, pleading, and nearly mad eyes on Diva.  "Please, you've got to help me!  Please, I need...help...don't want to...be alone, not...anymore...please, help?"

Overwhelmed with pity, sympathy, and possibly her maternal instincts as well, Diva limped over to the troubled Ifurita unit and offered her a hand.  She urgently grabbed it as if it was her last link to reality, and, with Diva whispering comforting, soothing words in the Demon God's ear, the two left the hive and began their journey back to Roshtaria.

From the shadows, a pair of eyes watched them go, and when the creature was certain there were no nearby threats it stepped into the light and stared sadly at the Creterian Queen's body.

"Diiiivaaaa," the Creterian Bugrom Princess uttered, taking the first steps to becoming a queen and preparing to build a new and even greater collective.    

******

Public Support for the Candidates as of 10 o'clock tonight!
Millie the Bratty War Orphan = 23%
Princess Myuun the Traitor = 22%
Princess Rune Venus = 15%
Empress Diva = 15%
Ura the Armor Cat = 8%
Undecided = 17%

Princess Myuun chuckled mirthlessly as she read the document.  The results were exactly what she had anticipated, and a quick check via the Mantle of God revealed that the rival campaigns were reacting in predictable fashions.  She shrugged off the accompanying headache.  As her skill at using the Mantle of God grew the pain that came with it had decreased, and although her newfound ability to access the ancient creation without the use of an interface worried her slightly, she had a duty to her people and her country to fulfill.  Granted, her own talent at shaping favorable outcomes not withstanding, she knew that her odds of winning this election were slim to none.  The Guide's powers far outstripped her own and attempting to defeat such a creature was foolishness, especially since the tachyons were also blocking the Mantle of God's ability to see the future.

This didn't bother Myuun at all.  To her, the election was merely a means to an end, and, win or lose, she'd still win anyway.