Shamus looked for the second time at the new data on the FnordNet comms panel. Gotcha.
He quickly reviewed the figures for the planets current trajectory, and his heart fell for a moment.
Gods, well go under it, unless
His finger stabbed down on the general comms panel.
Listen up! We have acquisition! Ops, I need an immediate full burn at 180 lateral.. Bring her nose up, now! Then kick in corrections at 110 lateral to bring her left a bit.
We need final corrections of 1.0528 up and 3820 left to be dead on this mugger! At this point, Ill even settle for the side pocket, gents. Hit it a glancing glow if you must, but hit the bastard!
Almost immediately the vibrations rose again through the soles of Shamus feet, rising in frequency and amplitude. Ill be needing that bloody dentist for sure after this. Hope Waverlys insurance is good!
Shamus returned to his displays, as the two sets of courses, actual and desired, began ever so slowly to come together.
Now, get off that bloody floating charnel house, lads and lasses! Shamus is coming to visit!
Shamus lit the last of Pops' Canarian cheroots as the Armored Transport lifted gently off the "aft" side of Planet Bora Bora. The Transport would deccelerate briefly, allowing the speeding planet to gain distance on it. The ensuing course to Gran Canaria, and the Veranda, was already programmed and ready to activate.
Shamus was exhausted. He felt as if the final course corrections had been accomplished through his own sheer brute force, rather than that of the straining fusion engines. "I've done the job, but have I fulfilled the terms of the contract?"
The "aft" side of Bora Bora seemed dark and deserted. There was no fuel left for the engines.. no further need. As the disk of the planet became smaller in the Transport's viewport, one of the system's twin suns began to peek from the around the edge of the planet, as if a small ray of hope greeted Shamus' arrival.
*Incoming traffic, Mal. Launched about four minutes ago and heading this way!*
(This "way" being towards the ice moon Fuertaventura, behind which the three Fnordette fighters were stationed as protection fro the pending impact of Bora Bora on the Ska Ralla..)
"Got it, Dis. Looks like a small cargo shuttle of some sort. Anything else?"
*It appears to be on an automatic course, programmed to dump its cargo on the moon's surface and return to the Ska Ralla. Wup!! I'm detecting two sets of lifesigns, Boss! One is higly elevated; and the other is... barely registering. Someone is in big trouble on there. We need to act!*
"Roger! What's the mass of the shuttle? Can three tractor beams in concert grab the thing and haul it to Gran Canaria??"
*No prob, Mal, with a little judicious fire control first. Sophie! Engine fuel lines. Now! Merci, go for anything that looks like control circuits or attitude controls!*
The three fighters streaked toward the cargo shuttle. The shuttle's minimal shields went down in seconds, and critical flight systems were disabled with surgical precision. Three tractor beams stabbbed the shuttle, and began first slowly, then more rapidly, to alter its course and drag it towards the Gran Canaria Space Port.
"Canaria Control! This is the Merc craft Killer_Dis! We have a medical emergency, and we're coming in hot! ETA approximately 4 minutes. Be ready!"
*That's only two, boss. The rest of our band better have some real Mojo workin', or there'll be some serious funeral arrangements to be made very shortly.*
Fnordie finally awaked from his raving. He remembered the last hit from Kitty which caused explosion of his ship and after that he had a complete blackout. He had tried to contact Rick with full mental-force he was capable of but he was not sure of the success. Fnordie closed his eyes again.
He felt....different. He thought he was aware of all his powers but something had changed. He gently touched minds of some Freeport's inhabitants and then he discovered the difference. He was able to read through the thoughts of other beings before. Well, they weren't as clear as now and his range was more limited before but there was something else.
He now clearly recognised effective brain fibres and he was able control them. He moved his mind to the Freeport's bar and chose randomly a man drinking beer. He took over one of the mind fibers, made the man stand up, turn around and spill his beer on another man. It was very easy and he still didn't feel the usual tiredness which always came when he was using his mind force. A loud skirmish started in the bar but Fnordie had to try more.
Then he located a nearby asteroid, sized approximately same as the Large Train, and made it accelerate swiftly towards the Neutron Star. He did it before when passing Omega 5 with Rick in his previous Container Transport. But it always was on a very short distance and he could "produce" only a very slow speed. The move was noticed by a man in the observatory who was quite shocked to see a huge piece of rock to start moving first slowly but then it speeded up insanely and disappeared. He was just about to report such an exciting phenomenon but Fnordie didn't need any sensations. He moved onto the mind of this man, made him calm down and narrowed the last memory fibre so the man didn't remember what happened any more.
There were several more things to be found out. First, what happened Fnordie remembered just before the explosion he tried to eject the emergency pod but the ship was already so damaged that the pod jammed in the cockpit and Fnordie was hit by something very badly in the back of his head. ~ Back of his head... ~ Fnordie just discovered this thought in the doctor's mind who was trying to fall asleep somewhere on Freeport 5.
Dr. Mitchell was taking care of Fnordie. He was just thinking of some very strange EEG recordings with an odd brain activity and CT scans showing a huge inflammation of Pineal Gland of the subject (which happened to be a dog brought by a desperately looking man). Dr. Mitchell has never seen something like that. It later started to heal very quickly but the Pineal Gland remained greatly augmented. And the magnetic resonance showed prevailing activity, which was expanding the subjects physical body. Dr. Mitchell knew he was at the beginning of a great discovery and was looking forward to transfering the subject to the nearest research station and start its deeper research. He suddenly fell asleep. A deep one. A forgetting one. And his enthusiasm vanished as suddenly as it once appeared...
So it was Rick who saved him, he was the other concern of Fnordie. Fnordie recognised his image in Dr. Mitchell's thoughts. Rick was different than the others but he didn't know it. Fnordie now remembered that he dreamed about Rick while being unconscious. After "taking care" of Dr. Mitchell Fnordie concentrated and tried to find Rick's mind. He didn't want to harm him so he started very "silently". Nothing. He increased his mental force a bit and finally found a diminishing trail. It led out of the Omega 49 system and it was very quick as if it was moving nearly at light-speed. This was ubnormal, Fnordie knew that no Sirius-made ships are capable of travelling at such speed without using jump holes. There was not time to loose.
Fnordie sneaked out of the hospital and headed towards the docks. He found a lonely bounty hunter who was wandering through the passages of the Freeport 5. Fnordie "persuaded" him to enter his Manta with him and few minutes later they were both flying in the direction of Omega 49. Fnordie found some surprising similarities of this man's mind and Rick's one. They both weren't clones, Fnordie was quite sure about that. Clones are biologically grown and their minds are always equal to their "parent" ones. But the mental fibers of Rick and this man were somewhat hardened. It consumed much more of Fnordie's force to change them. Fnordie used a trick and infused him a thought that there might be a certain girl called Margarita spotted on Planet Canaria as the man felt a certain attachment to her. Fnordie therefore didn't have to control the man's mind and could rest. If Rick's in trouble Fnordie will need his force at full strength.
...
After landing on Planet Canaria Fnordie let the man to search for his girl of interest and remembered the pattern of his brain in order to locate him later. There was a connection between him and Rick. But there was not time for that at the moment. Fnordie came to the Veranda entrance. The lasers seemed incative. There was Rick's Large Train parked nearby. But there was also a man lying dead in the slop of blood on the path leading to the Veranda. Fnordie recognised Shamus but his brain was inactive too long and the last remains of his mind were gone. Poor Shamus, this confirmed Fnordie's catastrophic scenarios. No time to loose, at all, at all. He jumped in the train and started the launch sequence.
Once in space Fnordie detected the direction Rick left. The trail was almost "cold" so Fnordie entered the cruise speed immediately and then used his abilities to accelerate the Large Train rapidly in the trail's direction. The ship was not built to travel at such speeds so Fnordie had to maintain a force shield in front of the ship. Once the ship approached the light speed Fnordie stopped accelerating it. He used a huge amount of his powers but he couldn't rest now. The front shield had to be kept so the ship's not vaporised by the first hit by a stray asteroid. Fnordie must keep on. Rick's life is in danger. And Fnordie can't let him down.
Malaclypse sat in the small waiting room. He seemed overwhelmed by recent events. The news of Shamus tragic death had been delivered by his neighbor, Alan Kell. There was no way of even reaching the body to recover it as long as the Verandas inner defenses were still active. Without Reggie around to de-activate the systems, the problem seemed insurmountable.
Beau Coup had been sedated. His injuries were minor, but his mental condition was such that they had been able to gather no information whatsoever about events aboard the Ska Ralla immediately before its demise. Not that the information would be of any value now.
Miokis terribly mutilated body had been taken to the local equivalent of a morgue. How she had managed to survive even briefly inside the ghastly garbage pod was a mystery. Trauma and blood loss should have been fatal even before the pod was sighted by the Fnordettes.
Hovering next to Mal at head level on her anti-grav unit, Merci had been morbidly silent. Then..
*I dont know what to say to him, Boss. I think Im experiencing what you primates call guilt. If I had not been so upset over Beaus engagement, Dis would have never tried to kill them. And, perhaps they would not have attracted Dr. As attention. Im not even sure I can face him when he wakes up!*
Water under the bridge, my dear. said Mal. It is obvious that your feelings for Beau are still very strong, even after the way he treated you. But, there is nothing we can do about the past. You must help me try to communicate with Beau when he is able. We need every iota of information if we are to plan for the future.
*Understood. I just hope the big lug even remembers me. I thought we made a good team with the ELF. Oh, sure, we had our differences; but we also made a difference. I just couldnt compete when it came to the pleasures of the flesh, as you humans so quaintly put it.*
Ah, Merci. I sometimes envy you girls for not being subject to the impermanence and the travails of the flesh. You may be more fortunate than you realize
*All the same, if Id just been able to hug the big galoot once in awhile*
Merci and Mal lapsed into their own reveries once again, and waited.
I did not ask her, nor did I dissuade her. Perhaps allowing her to go would help to return her sense of self-worth. She was still blaming herself terribly for Beaus plight, and Miokis fate.
It was the strangest feeling. Merci and I were once again "sitting" in the waiting room at the Gran Canaria Medical Clinic, waiting for Beau to become lucid.
Something touched my mind. I knew immediately that it was Fnordie, as there was just a hint of unhuman flavor to the touch. But the thoughts I received were easily understood; even though through a background haze of exhaustion.
Even more amazing was the way Fnordie was able to project the codes onto the wall across from us. I was clearly able to see three sets of codes on the wall. I grabbed furiously for my pad, and captured the data. I thought back the codes in Fnordies direction as best I could, repeating the codes back for verification. I had them.
Three code sequences. The first was for the outer systems, which had been pretty much disabled by Dr. As initial attack. Merci would enter it at the main portcullis comms pad, just to be certain.
The second set would be the most difficult. They would open the hidden entrance to the hardened bunker beneath the villa. To reach them, Merci would have to risk the inner laser defenses; the ones which had caught our poor friend Shamus and an innocent passerby completely by surprise.
Merci was confident she could dodge those nasty buggers; or, failing that, she believed her hardened titanium alloy casing would protect her from all but a direct hit. Reluctantly, I agreed. The information in that bunker would indeed be vital.
I held my breath as Merci went in, in direct communication with her. She entered the outer code, and entered the inner courtyard. My breath caught in my throat when I heard : *Dammit!* Then silence. Then, *That sucker singed my tail! Im in, Boss, and headed for the bunker access door!*
I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. If the inner systems were working properly, Merci would soon be entering the final code within the bunker itself; deactivating and resetting the Verandas entire defense system.
*Done, Boss! Green lights across the board! Just let me sashay out and offer myself to those idiot turrets one more time to verify. 5 9s says we got the Veranda back!*
She sounded much better. I suppose an idle mind is the Devils workshop, even for a cyber sentient.
I started whistling an ancient Irish tune as I left the Clinic and started walking towards the Veranda.
Now, to plan one huge and glorious Wake for our friend Shamus!
Now for a few words about the "real truth," at least as the Illuminati understand "real truth."
Every society actually passes through the five stages of Verwirrung, or chaos; Zweitracht, or discord; Unordnung, or confusion; Beamtenherrschaft, or bureaucracy; and Grummet, or aftermath. Sometimes, to make comparison with the exoteric Hegel-Marx system more pointed, the esoteric Illuminati system is defined as: Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis, Parenthesis, and Paralysis. The public Hegel-Marx triad is also called the tricycle, and the arcane latter two stages are called the bicycle; one of the first secrets revealed to every illuminatus Minore is "After the tricycle it comes always the bicycle." (The Uluminati are rather prone toward literal translations from Weishaupt's German.)
The first stage, Verwirrung or chaos, is the point from which all societies begin and to which they all return. It is, so to speak, the natural condition of humanity�an estimation which the reader can confirm by closely observing his neighbors (or, if he has the necessary objectivity, himself).
It is, therefore, also the fundamental Thesis. The Illuminati associate this with Eris, and also with other goddesses from Isis to Ishtar and from Kwannon to Kali�with the Female Principle, yin, in general. This correlates with hexagram 2 in the I Ching: that is, K'un, which has the meanings of receptivity, nature (in contrast to spirit), earth (in contrast to sky), female (in contrast to male). Thus, although this is the first stage chronologically, it has the mystical number 2, which is always associated with the female in magic; and it correlates with the 2nd trump in Tarot, the High Priestess, who represents not only maternity and fertility but gnosis. The sign of the horns represents Verwirrung because the fingers make a V shape; and the planet or the symbol of Venus, , also designates this stage. On the Zodiac: Aquarius.
Verwirrung
In this chaotic period, the Hodge and the Podge are in dynamic balance. There is no stasis: The balance is always shifting and homeostatic, in the manner of the ideal "self-organizing system" of General Systems Theory or Cybernetics. The Illuminati, and all authoritarian types in general, dislike such ages so much that they try to prevent any records of their existence from reaching the general public. Pre-Chou China was one such period, and its history (except for some fragments in Taoist lore) is largely lost; we do know, however, that the I Ching was reorganized when the Chou Dynasty introduced patriarchal authoritarianism to China. It was then that the hexagram K'un, , associated with this period was moved from the first place to its present, second place in the Ching. Every line in K'un is broken (yin), because this is a feminist and prepatriarchal form of society, and because yin correlates with the agricultural rather than the urban. Always linked to darkness by mystics, this K'un style of sensibility is also linked, by the Illuminati, with dreck (dung) and everything they find messy and intolerable about ordinary human beings. (The Erisians, of course, take the opposite position, connect this with Eris, the primordial goddess, and regard it as ideal.)
Verwirrung is numerologically linked with 2, not only because of K'un's shift from first to second place in the Ching, but because it is the balance of Hodge and Podge. Thus, even though it is the first stage chronologically, it is never linked with 1 in magic sense, because 1 signifies the erect penis, the male principle in isolation, and such authoritarian games as monotheism, monopoly, monogamy, and general monotony. This dynamic 2-ness of Verwirrung is also implicit in its Tarot card, the 2nd trump or High Priestess, who sits between a black pillar and a white one (cf. The Hodge and Podge) and who represents mystery, magic, mischief, and Erisian values generally. She wears the balanced (solar) cross, rather than the unbalanced (Christian) cross, to emphasize the unity of opposites in such a historical period.
Typical Aquarians who have manifested Verwirrung values are Aaron Burr, Christopher Marlowe, Hung Mung, Charles Darwin, Willard Gibbs (who incorporated chaos into mathematics), Mrs. Patrick Campbell, Elizabeth Blackwell (pioneer woman physician), Anna Pavlova, Mozart, Lewis Carrol, Robert Burns, James Joyce, Lord Byron, David Wark Griffith, and Gelett Burgess, author of the classic Erisian poem:
I never saw a purple cow I never hope to see one But I'll tell you this anyhow: I'd rather see than be one.
Beau Coup stood in front of the mirror in his Hospital room, his hands shaking as he attempted to close the zippers and fasten the Velcro on his old flight suit. The blood stains from this recent horrible experience had somehow been removed during cleaning.
He had been released from the Canaria Clinic today. The doctors had vetted his physical health; but were guarded as to a prognosis of his emotional and psychological condition. Beau could make that prognosis himself.
As he peered at himself in the mirror, he noticed that his eyes still appeared gaunt and haunted. The ghastly events that occurred to him and his departed fiancee Myoki still entered and disturbed his dreams every single night. Her gruesome death at the hands of Dr. Artifice and Julius Kane, Lord Darkstar, would haunt him for a long time to come.
Beau had been grounded by the physicians who attended him, for an indefinite period. His emotional recovery was out of their hands, and would have to be dealt with as Beau saw fit. He might ignore their edict, and return to his Chimaera some day; but at the moment he realized the truth of his condition. He was unfit to fly.
Still staring into the mirror, and reflecting on more than his image, Beau heard the soft hum of a small anti-grav unit as it entered his room. Beau turned towards the sound, and attempted a weak smile.
So, Merci, youve finally gotten the courage to visit me. Out of pity? Curiosity? You should know that I dont blame you at all for what happened to Myoki. Our capture by that insane animal Dr. A. could never have been predicted. And perhaps Id be better off now if Mama Dis aim had been truer in the first place.
Merci, Beaus past companion and fellow ELF, was silent for some moments. Finally,
*Its that instinct thing you primates have. Yes, we cyber sentients may have a thousand times better response and reaction time than you do; but whatever that trait is, and wherever it comes from, it will always make you the better pilots.*
I believe thats the first time youve ever admitted inferiority of any kind to me, Merci. I appreciate the kindness. And, Im sure you have more pressing matters than hanging about a Clinic for weeks on end
*Not really, Beau. The Dojo for KNF training is closing. Sophies death took a toll on Mama Dis. I still dont believe it myself. Im pretty sure Dis will be returning to Canaria, to work with Mal and Pops.
*And Ive requested a leave of absence from the Merc Registry. They can find someone else to haul their ashes while Im.. while were.. gone*
Beaus face finally took on a look other than pain and loss. A look of curiosity briefly stole across his features. Gone? Are you planning to kidnap me and torture me for the way I neglected and mistreated you? I would deserve it.
*No, Ape boy.* said Merci, with a slight lilt to her vocal output. *Ive gotten a Nav program from my new little buddy, XM. Theres a semi-stable Rift about 40K above Canaria, that leads elsewhere. We need to go there, wherever there is, and get away from things for awhile. We need to decide who neglected and tortured whom, Beau, before we can heal the damage done to both of us. Then, we can think about returning here to our old lives. Interested, Count Coup?*
Theres nothing here for me anymore, Merci. And I trust your chauffer abilities implicitly, through experience. Im all packed. What are we flying?
*Well, my old Pard, I just happen to be in possession of a Chimaera. So, if you feel the urge to take the stick for awhile, it should be familiar! And thank you for accepting my offer, Beau. You dont know how hard it has been to approach you. Ive borne a lot of guilt over what happened to you and.. Myoki, myself. Perhaps a fresh start somewhere will help rid us of all this crazy emotional baggage.*
Then lead on, Merci! Let me just tap a note to his Episkyhood, if he even still acknowledges the title. I doubt it will take a whole page for Mal to understand the whys and wherefores. And thank you for the offer. Had you not had the courage to approach me, I doubt Id have found the guts to find you. Id probably still be immobile, staring into that mirror.
Message to: Mama Dis, Perfect Blossom
Comm ID: Malaclypse.
Subject: Industrial Strength ZKW Pies.
Hey, Dis,
Contact the Staff at Laughing Goddess Bakeries, will you. It seems with all these new heavy duty pie shields popping up throughout the sector, we may have to change our recipe a bit. Let's make em a lot juicier, eh?
Oh, and look into this supposed "ZKW" technology. Perhaps pies frozen within an inch of their bloody lives would also be an effective counter.
And tell me again, why didn't the ELF put a Sector-wide copyright on pies and pie-throwing back in the old days?
The captain looked at Hiia, smiling. Suddenly, though, the captain changed. It was a subtle thing, entirely impossible to tell the difference, but Hiia knew that there was something amiss. The captain opened his mouth, and in his voice, began to speak to Hiia. But it was not the captain who spoke.
"Fool! Infidel! You force me to come here, to this system once barren of life, after I was in Omicron Theta? You! How dare you! You brought life here, HERE, of all places? Why? I demand to know!" Hiia could not answer; he was to stunned to form words or even open his mouth. The captain continued on. "Idiot, idiot, idiot. I have lived well over ten thousand eons, have seen more information than even the most powerful of computers could hope to begin to store, have jumped from body to body learning that which each knows. I have driven men mad with my whisperings, entering their minds and telling them of the most horrible secrets, forever dooming them to suicidal thoughts.
"I have just recently encountered something of such import that I must divert my attention to it, the C'Tan people of this galaxy, and you have the audacity to draw me away? I will not kill you, Hiia. No, that would be to easy. I shall let you live, and you will never tell anyone of this. Sadly, the Captain here won't return to his body - I devoured his conscience. He'll appear to be in comatose, but it is a vegetative state. I advise jettisoning him. But remember, Hiia, I will always be watching you. And you will one day know what I have in store for you. Until then, have fun with the experiment. Oh, a word of advice. Check to make sure the conduit is aligned with the magnetic conductor correctly, or the reactor could go critical and fracture the planet in twain." And with that, the captain fell over, his eyes lulling into the back of his head. Hiia slumped to the ground, his mind racing with thoughts.
(In another part of the Sirius Sector, four of the five Illuminati Primi met in an old graveyard in the Munich System; the fifth could not be present. His animus was currently on assignment elsewhere
They agreed that all was going as scheduled, but one danger remained: nobody in the Order, however developed his or her ESP, had been able to trace the Episkopos of the ELF.
The eldest of the four said, "We can still succeed, if one of our mediums finds the mehum Malaclypse before he can intervene." (Mehum was an abbreviation for all descendants of those not part of the original Unbroken Circle; it meant mere humans.)
"Why can none of our ultra-sensitives find him?" a second asked. "Does he have no ego or soul at all?"
"He has a vibration but it's not distinctly human. Whenever we seem to have a fix on it, we're usually ' picking up a bank vault or the safe of some Zoner billionaire," the eldest replied.
"We have that problem with an increasing number of Zoners," the third commented morosely. "In that Faction, we have done our work too well. The conditioning to those pieces of paper is so strong that no other psychic impulse remains to be read."
The fourth spoke. "Now is no time for trepidation, my brothers. The plan is virtually realized, and this Malaclypse's lack of ordinary mehum qualities will prove an advantage when we do fix on him. No ego, no resistance. We will be able to move him at our whim. The stars are right, He Who Is Not To Be Named is impatient, and now we must be intrepid!" She spoke with fervor.
The others nodded. "Heute die Sektor, Morgens das Universe!" the eldest cried out fiercely.
"Heute die Sektor" all repeated, "Morgens das Universe!")
Quote:Meanwhile, at the Uli Rouge, Fiona welcomed her friends to the Villa. She had been sad that not everyone could attend, but saw many familiar faces. Ringing a crystal bell, she summoned her guests to the dining room. She recognized Jay, Rick, Reggie, and Julius Kane.
<snip>
Tell me, does everyone like their food? Oh my! I forgot. Mr. Walters, could you be a darling and get the food I had imported for Fnordie? It took a lot out of him to get past those defenses of deSicev's!"
"Of course, madam, if you wish. Shall I get the bovine or the marine fillet?"
"Both! Spoil the little pup, if just for this night. Well! Now, we're all settled in. Everyone's good now? Good! Let's eat!"
And so, the dinner party began.
But four days earlier, as the [~V~]Malaclypse left Kusari space and entered the uncharted system where the Deius Prime was to be tested, Beau Coup was listening to a different kind of chorus. (He and the Fnordette Merci had not disappeared through the Rift atall, atall; but had been recruited as crew aboard the vessel while Beau completed his recovery from his horrific experience aboard the Ska Ralla.)
It was, Mama Dis had explained to him in advance, the ELF ritual of Agape Ludens, or Love Feast, and the dining hall was newly bedecked with pornographic and psychedelic posters, Christian and Buddhist and Amerindian mystic designs, balloons and lollypops dangling from the ceiling on Day-Glo-dabbed strings, numinous paintings of Discordian saints (including Norton I, Malaclypse the Elder, Guillaume of Aquitaine, Chuang Chou, Judge Roy Bean, John Dillinger, and the Prophet Wilson), bouquets of roses and forsythia and gladiolas and orchids, clusters of acorns and gourds, and the inevitable proliferation of golden apples and pentagons.
The main course was the best Kyushu king crab Newburg that Beau had ever tasted, only lightly dusted with a mild hint of Kallisti Gold. Dozens of trays of dried fruits and cheeses were passed back and forth among the tables, together with canapes of an exquisite caviar Beau had never encountered before ("Only Mal knows where those sturgeon spawn," Mama Dis explained) and the beverage was a blend of the Kusari seventeen-herb Mu tea with Banasteria extract.
While everyone gorged, laughed and got gently but definitely zonked, Malaclypse, (who was evidently satisfied that he, Mama Dis, and FnordNet had located "the problem in Kusari"), merrily conducted the religious portion of the Agape Ludens.
"Pistle sie nie, wahrend sie Whiss!" he chanted, "O hail Eris!"
"Pistle sie nie, wahrend sie Whiss!" the crew merrily chorused, "O Hail Eris!"
"Sya-dasti," Mal chanted. "All that I tell you is true."
"Sya-dasti," the crew repeated, "O hail Eris!"
"Sya-davak-tavya," Mal chanted now. "All that I tell you is false."
"Sya-davak-tavya," Beau joined in, "O hail Eris!"
"Sya-dasti-sya-nasti," Mal intoned. "All that I tell you is meaningless."
"Sya-dasti-sya-nasti," all agreed, some jeeringly, "O hail Eris!"
"Sya-dasti-sya-nasti-sya-davak-tav-yaska," Malaclypse sang out. "All that I tell you is true and false and meaningless."
"Sya-dasti-sya-nasti-sya-davak-tav-yaska," the massed voices replied, "O hail Eris!"
"Pistle sie nie, wahrend sie Whiss," Mal repeated quietly. "Does anyone have a new incantation?"
"All hail crab Newburg," a thought came from Fnordie.
That was an immediate hit. "All hail crab New-burg," everyone howled.
"All hail these bloody beautiful roses," a gravelly yet cultured Zoner voice contributed.
"All hail these bloody beautiful roses," all agreed.
Merci rose up on her anti-grave unit. "The Pope is the chief cause of Protestantism," she recited softly.
That was another roaring success; everybody chorused, and one Texan/Junker voice added, "Right on!"
"Order is the chief cause of Chaos," Rick Deckard chanted.
That went over well, too, and he then tried, "The Houses are the chief cause of anarchism," which was another smashing success.
"Prisons are built with the stones of law, brothels with the bricks of religion," Merci went on.
"PRISONS ARE BUILT WITH THE STONES OF LAW, BROTHELS WITH THE BRICKS OF RELIGION," the hall boomed.
"I stole that last one from William Blake," Merci slowly floated back to her seat next to Beau.
"Any others?" Malaclypse asked. There was none, so he went on after a moment, "Very well, then, I will preach my weekly sermon."
"Balls!" cried the Texas/Junker voice.
"Bull****!" added a Bretonian female.
Mal frowned. "That wasn't much of a demonstration," he commented sadly. "Are the rest of you so passive that you're just going to sit here on your dead asses and let me bore the piss out of you?"
The Texan, the Bretonian lady and a few others got up. "We are going to have an orgy," the Bretonian said briefly, and they left.
"Well, sink me, I'm glad there's some life left on this old tub," Mal grinned. "As for the rest of you, who can tell me, without uttering a word, the fallacy of the Illuminati?"
A young girl (she was no more than fifteen, George guessed, and the youngest member of the crew; he had heard she was a daughter of an Ambassador, and a member of the Kusari Trader Corp.) slowly raised her hand and clenched her fist.
Malaclypse turned on her furiously. "How many times must I tell you people: no faking! You got that out of some cheap book on Zen that neither the author nor you understood a damned word of. I hate to be dictatorial, but phony mysticism is the one thing Discordianism can't survive. You're on ****work, in the galley, for a week, you wise-ass brat."
The girl remained immobile, in the same position, fist raised, and only slowly did Beau Coup read the slight smile that curled her mouth. Then he started to smile himself.
Malaclypse lowered his eyes for a second and gave a Zoner shrug. "O oi che siete in picoletta barca," he said softly, and bowed. "I'm still in charge of nautical and technical matters," he announced, "but Miss Sylvia deLuna now succeeds me as Episkopos of the Temporary Autonomous Zoner Cabal. Anyone with lingering spiritual or psychological problems, take them to her."
Mal lunged across the room, hugged the girl Sylvia, laughed with her happily for a moment and placed his Golden Apple ring on her finger. "Now I don't have to meditate every day," he shouted joyously, "and I'll have more time for some thinking."
Malaclypse later drew five of the motley group aside. Two of you will remain here with me on the V-Mal. I believe three of you have a dinner engagement to attend, he directed.
I promise you, if it is within our power, we will not let those Illuminati bastards Immanentize the Eschaton!