========================================================================= Date: Tue, 11 July 1995 21:30:00 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: Introductions: Care and Feeding ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS Introductions by Eric Alfred Burns and Christopher E. Meadows The Unicorn. The Unicorn is, traditionally, symbolic of fertility, masculinity and magical blessing. The Unicorn was an unbreakable beast, which (according to the earliest sources) brooked no riders at all. It was wise and yet still an animal. Its blood was reputed to taste sweet as wine, its flesh supposedly fill a hungry man with the first bite. Its hooves left no marks and, according to some sources, were made of either silver or iron. Its coat was invariably white or black. And, lest we forget, it had a horn. This horn was deadly -- bearing a point that could pierce any armor. The unicorn could use it with the finesse of an epee fencer and the devestating effect of a jouster's lance. Its touch healed wounds and it turned black in the presence of a lie or poisoned food. It retained these properties even when removed from the animal, and when removed from the animal the Unicorn became a mundane horse. The historical unicorn was most likely a rhinoceres, described in some detail in Beastiares as having the girth and armor of the true animal. But the popular folklore kept it a horse -- one prized and yet sought, all at once. It was wild and canny, and no animal could pick up its trail. The only way to entice and trap it was to use a true virgin as a judas goat. The maid (who according to some sources had to be pure of thought, but universally had to be `pure' of body) would sit in the woods and await her equine prey, while hunters would conceal themselves nearby. The unicorn would appear, suffer to be touched by the maid, and then lay its head in the maid's lap (according to more recent sources. The earlier sources made more explicit the implied sexuality of a beast laying its horn in the lap of a virgin). While it rested there, it lost its habitual guard and therefore was vulnerable to capture or slaughter. In our modern times, the Unicorn has become symbolic of the supernatural world now lost to our oh-so-modern eyes. Peter S. Beagle's book "The Last Unicorn" is at once a fable and a censuring of modern life. When the unicorn's horn is broken off the glass unicorn in "The Glass Menegerie," the magical world of the glass figures and their owner's own specialness are lost with it. It becomes a horse. So it is with Terrania. Think about it. Terrania. The root of the country's name is "Terra:" it is our world in microcosm. But more than that, it is the world as it was. The world where magic still has sway, where the common folk (for all their shortwave radios and .22 rifles) still do things as their great grandfathers did. A world where fantasy is possible. I do not subscribe to the cult of the past. Frankly, what the reinaissance and middle ages really had a lot more of was superstition and disease. They had a lot less freedom, hygiene, food and comfort. The simple world was a harsh one, and for all the romance of Personal Government, I rather like the Bill of Rights. But Terrania is not the world of the past -- it is the world of the past as it might have been, given magic and spirit and the blurring of reality's rules. The world of the Celts before Rome. The world as we'd like it to be. Its symbol is a Unicorn. And what a symbol that is. But the real world is coming. And the Unicorn is dying. The true rulers are deposed and running; Church and State are driving away the false idols and imposing rationality. This isn't a "Scholarman" story any more than it's a "Sarah Conner" story or a "Princess Ariella" story or a "Baron de Hevilode" story. This is a story about the world as it could be warring against the world as it is. The world of Don Quixote, if Cervantes had given Quixote power armor and a C cup size to go with his heart, spirit and belief. Scholarman plays a good Sancho Panza, even if he gets shot. I was glad for the chance to write it. I'm glad that you're going to read it. The Unicorns are dying. Maybe it's not too late to nurse them back to health. And if we get knocked over by a Windmill or two, at least we don't have to Translocate to get to them. Eric Alfred Burns Seattle, Washington 7/10/95 After Eric's introduction, there's really not much I can add about unicorns. I might mention that they were often used as a Christ figure in old tapestries, getting hunted down and killed by packs of hounds and then running alive and free again in the end, but that's not particularly important to the story at hand. I've always enjoyed tales about unicorns, pictures of unicorns, movies about unicorns. The aforementioned novel, "The Last Unicorn," is one of my favorite books of all time, and I even enjoyed the animated movie based on it (although this movie may be best considered a proof by example of the reasons why Mia Farrow should under no circumstances attempt to sing). The theme song to this movie, performed by America, still has the power to bring tears to my eyes. And while the plot may not be the greatest, I absolutely love the movie "Legend" for its beautiful depiction of the creatures (and beautiful music by Tangerine Dreams to go with). Anyway, to make a long story short, I like unicorns. I wrote about them on the fantasy newsgroup alt.pub.dragons-inn before I came to Superguy, and it was only a matter of time before they showed up here. But there were other reasons, too. At the time of writing, I was in the middle of collaborating on a huge giant-robot battle in Bob City (see Team M.E.C.H.A. TEB #4) and I needed a change of pace like you wouldn't believe. Also, there was talk of something new on the horizon, a great magical/anti-magical conflict to be called the Industrial Revolution, and I wanted an excuse to be in on it. And someone had called Sarah Conner a "typical anime babe." This was kind of the effect I had been aiming for, true, but I needed to give her more characterization than that. She needed more depth. I'm not entirely certain how Eric A. Burns became involved. I seem to recall talking to him on Internet Relay Chat and discussing the idea of a story set in a tiny European country, not unlike the Duchy of Fenwick from Leonard Wibberly's "The Mouse That Roared" series, only more serious. I sent him the first couple of chapters which I had written so that he could offer suggestions. One thing sort of led to another, and before we knew it, Eric was writing part of the series. This was almost more than I could have hoped for. Not only was this my first ever collaboration with one of the Senior Authors, but this was a Senior Author who knew a great deal about matters medieval, just the kind of information I needed for verisimilitude. To make a long story short, I think it turned out well, but there were a couple of gaffes I made. Most notably, I apparently somehow didn't send out episode #9 over the list itself during the posting of this story, so nobody ever saw it. What's worse, nobody ever emailed me and TOLD me this, which kind of makes me worry in retrospect. (Okay, so either I wasn't being read, or else just plain nobody NOTICED. I wonder which one of those is worse? :) I only discovered the omission a few months ago when I was going through the archives. I guess it's just fortunate that I still had the draft of #9 on hand. Anyway, this miniseries represents a lot of "firsts" for me. My first true miniseries. My first real character solo (well, for the first few episodes anyway). My first use of magic in Superguy. My first collaboration with an "Old Fart." My first protracted effort to write on a Unix system (watch how I experiment with nroff as I write each episode :). But in a sense, its real importance is that it sets up the big Team M.E.C.H.A. plot arcs that come afterward--the involvement in the Industrial Revolution and subsequent events, including the utterly huge Terranian Wedding Album. This miniseries plants the seeds that eventually blossom into all that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy what is to come. I hope you enjoy it even a third as much as I enjoyed writing it. Christopher Edward Meadows Springfield, Missouri 7/11/95 ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Jan 1994 12:45:29 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, Part 1 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS A CONTINUITISTICALLY-IMPAIRED MINISERIES PART 1 By Robotech_Master Starring Sarah Conner from Team M.E.C.H.A. Special Guest Appearances by Mike and Lincoln from Team M.E.C.H.A. Music by Men Without Hats Robotech_Master's First Law of Superguy: Continuity is overrated. Robotech_Master's Corollary to Robotech_Master's First Law of Superguy: ...but sometimes necessary all the same. In view of this, a few words of explanation are in order. This series is set slightly out of continuity. It begins very shortly after the end of the current mega-crossover plot involving Team M.E.C.H.A., Spectrum, et al in Bob City. I'm starting this now so that it will be over in time for the Industrial Revolution. (I realize there's still a possibility that it won't be over in time, but I'm doing the best I can.) [As it turned out, I needn't have worried. - Ed.] I hope you enjoy this...this marks kind of a first for me...the first adventure that sets one of my Team M.E.C.H.A. characters out on her own, in the grand tradition of hijinx, Ramrod, She-Devil (oops! let's hope not, folks, that one was never finished!)...Anyway, enough talk. On with the show! The alarm chronometer clicked over from 0629 to 0630. A piano began to play softly. "Isn't it strange?" the singer asked. "Isn't it just like me...to change again." In the bed, in the small dormitory-like quarters, a figure stirred, grunted. The voice continued, "Live in a fire...Isn't it just like me...final hour..." The piano faded, and was replaced by a more insistent beat, synthesizer and drums. Sarah Conner turned back the covers, swung around and put her feet on the floor as a voice spelled out, "S...A...F...E...T...Y...Safety... DANCE!" The keyboard picked up, and the harmony of the song began. Sarah stood up and did a series of stretches in time to the first verse... "We can dance if we want to...we can leave your friends behind. 'Cuz your friends don't dance and if they don't dance, well they're...no friends of mine. I say, we can go where we want to...a place where they will never find. We can act like we come from out of this world leave the real one far behind. We can dance..." As the song continued, Sarah Conner yawned once more and walked into the adjoining bathroom. The music followed her, coming from hidden speakers in the walls. As the first verse was repeated in a singing voice rather than a speaking one, Sarah let her pajamas slip from her lithe form and stepped into the shower. The water fell and steam rose, partly obscuring her nude body. "Safety Dance" ended and "Antarctica" began. Sarah stepped out of the shower and towelled herself off. She finished up by wrapping her damp hair turban-style in the towel while she got dressed in the sweats she'd laid out the night before. Stepping back into her bedroom, she flipped a switch on the wall to open the skylight, and the early morning sun streamed in. Of course, her room wasn't really aboveground, but thanks to fiber-optic conduits, the sunlight and blue sky came through all the same, thanks to a concealed above-ground pickup. "Ah, this is shaping up to be a BEAUTIFUL day..." Sarah remarked to nobody in particular. She stepped out into the middle of the floor and began doing aerobics to "The Great Ones Remember." As the song ended and she felt warmed-up enough, she stepped back into the restroom and blow-dried her damp hair the rest of the way. Satisfied with her look, she nodded to herself and stepped through the door, whistling cheerfully and stopping only to clip on a communicator and tune the headset to base comm frequency. With Men Without Hats playing in her ears, she stepped out into the corridor and walked to the nearest stairway. A brief jog up three levels to "I Got the Message," and she emerged on the ground level. Sarah Conner, it should be mentioned, is a member of that caste of insufferably-cheerful early risers known to most as "morning people." This did not serve to make her any more popular with Mike, an avowed "late-evening person." They had eventually come to an agreement: she wouldn't wake Mike up, he wouldn't prevent her from getting to bed early. "Mike doesn't know what he's missing," Sarah decided, stopping in the kitchen for a quick breakfast of low-fat granola, skim milk, and orange juice. After that, she decided, since it was such a nice day, she would do that which she often did on good days when she felt like spending a great deal of time outside: go shopping! She hadn't really had a chance to go shopping around here in the Ozarks yet, though. She had kept meaning to ask Mike about good places to go, but never had gotten around to it. "I don't think he'd want me waking him up right now to ask...I guess I'll just go to some nearby town and find my own way around. Wonder what would be good...?" Sarah called up a map of the surrounding area on the computer. "Let's see...nearby towns...Hmm, there's Cassville, pop. 3000 or so...Nah, I'd be lucky to find a Wal-Mart there. Branson? Nah, it's a tourist trap, and too far away. Save it for another time. Joplin's too far, too...that leaves...Springfield! Yeah, I think I could do that!" Sarah left a note on the table that read: Guys: Have decided to take my bike and go shopping. Heading up toward Springfield. Taking a communicator, page me if there's trouble. Hasta la vista, baby! I'll Be Back... --Sarah Conner She walked down to the mecha garage, pulling on her CVR helmet as she went. No need for the armor, she thought...it would just attract attention, anyway. She left it in the panniers, though, for just in case, and upon reflection, threw in her Gallant. She decided to leave the missile launcher behind, though. "What are the odds I'd need it, anyway?" Too inexperienced to realize that she was Tempting Fate (and, what's more, Tempting the Author) with those words, Sarah straddled the VR-038-LT Cyclone, kicked the starter, and roared out of the base into the crisp, cool, Spring day. She gunned the engine, with "Ideas for Walls," the perfect motorcycling song, blasting in her ears, and off she went. A few hours later, Mike got up. As usual, he awoke slowly, in varying stages of awareness. The first stage was when, in Mike's sleep, his bladder began to inform him rather insistently that it was full. The tiny spark of awareness that was Mike's conscious mind evaluated this data, decided it wasn't a solid enough reason to get up yet, and told his bladder to shut the hell (TM) up and quit bugging him. The next stage involved Mike's eyes informing him that the ambient light level in his room was slightly higher than it had been a few moments before. This was largely due to the faulty shutter on the fiber optic system in his room. For some strange reason, it had apparently been damaged by a ricochet blast from Dr. Zwarghoff's abortive invasion of the base, and now refused to shut all the way. He kept intending to get it fixed, but for some reason never did. Thus, a tiny bit of sunlight found its way into his room, rather like light leaking under the curtains in, say, a college dorm room. Mike's response: bury his head in the pillow and continue trying to sleep. However, Mike's conscious mind gradually became slightly more aware, and began wondering, curiously, what time it had gotten to be. This led to other parts of Mike's mind submitting various guesses based on how sleepy he felt. "Can't be past nine," one part said. "No," said another, "I'm betting ten thirty." And yet another said, "You're both wrong...from how full my bladder feels, combined with how sleepy I feel, I would say that it's about nine thirty." And thus it went. During the course of this argument, Mike's conscious mind added more and more bits of awareness to itself, and he began to feel various little things like the way the covers were lying on his bed, how stuck-together his eyes felt, the dampness on his pillow where he'd apparently drooled a little onto it when he'd rolled onto his face sometime during the night, just how much his stubble had grown, and the like. It was around this point that the part of Mike's mind that favored sleeping remarked, "All right, I give up. Do what you will, guys," to the other parts. At this point, Mike's mind began trying to agree among itself to open his eyes. This process generally took a few minutes, during which time Mike simply lay there, feeling the residual tiredness that typically comes from sleeping over nine hours. At last, Mike's bladder became a bit more insistent, and Mike was finally able to convince himself to blink his eyes open. Through slitted lids, he observed the dim sunlight illuminating his room, and blinked them shut again. Next, he opened and closed his eyes rapidly over the course of a minute or so, trying to adapt them to the light. When this task was completed, Mike yawned, stretched, and pushed back the covers. He half-rose, half-fell from the bed, and stumbled into the adjoining restroom, where he stayed for a minute or so. After emerging, he glanced at the clock, noticing that the time was actually 11:15 a.m. "Ha!" one small part of his brain said, "you were ALL wrong." At which point, this part of Mike's brain was lynched by all the others, and was subsequently not heard from again. Mike shook his head. "Gotta stop staying up that late..." he muttered. Then, "Naaaaah." He jumped into some clothes and went down to eat breakfast, aka lunch. As usual, everyone else had gotten up before him, judging from all the bowls containing milk residue on the table. In the middle, with a couple of Rice Krispies and a milk puddle on it, was Sarah Conner's note. Mike tabbed the intercom key. "Hey, Link, Mike here." "Good morning, Mike. We were all wondering when you'd get up," Link replied. "Looks like I win the betting pool...I guessed 11:00, and everyone else didn't guess past 10:30." "Very funny, Link. Listen, I found this note on the table here?" "Ah, yes, from Sarah. Don't worry about it, she takes these little shopping trips every so often." "I'm not worrying about that...what I'm wondering is what she intends to use for money." "Huh. I'm not sure. Maybe we should ask her when she gets back..." "Heck, it'll keep. She took a communicator with her?" "Yes...she keeps one in her purse. She'll call if she needs anything." "Okay. Look, I'm going to go down to the repair bay and finish up on the Bahamodes. Call me if anything important happens." "Roger." The intercom blipped off. Mike wondered, for a moment, whether Sarah would run into any trouble. Then he shook his head. "Naaah, that's just Author foreshadowing that may or may not mean anything." He left the room, fading into a scene segue. Sarah pulled into the parking lot at the Battlefield Mall in southeast Springfield. "Ahhhh. THIS is what I need." She secured her helmet to the bike, removed her purse from one of the panniers, and walked inside. "I could spend all day here!" She grinned wickedly. "Time to shop 'til I drop!" Walking through the mall, one of the first things to catch her eye was the S'barro's in the Food Court. "Hmm. Have to remember to eat lunch here." She walked on. At Camelot Records, a few CDs caught her eye. She took them to the counter, and then removed a Visa from her pocketbook. "Thanks, mom, for understanding," she murmured, handing the card over. Next, she stopped in at a few other stores to buy new clothing--Sears, J.C. Penney, The Gap ("These stores really ARE everywhere!"), et cetera, et cetera. At Mr. Bulky's Candy Shop, she bought enough candy to satisfy her renegade sweet tooth for a few weeks, and then, at S'barro's, she treated herself to a slice of their Supreme pizza. (She knew she really shouldn't, but what the heck, it was her one vice. Besides, she knew she could work it off.) A few dollars spent at Aladdin's Castle helped keep the ol' reflexes sharp, or so she liked to think. Though she did avoid Night Striker and that Sega motorcycle game--too much like WORK. She blew most of her money on Samurai Shodown, mainly because she thought that California guy with the plasma sword and the wolf looked hot. She managed to master a few of his moves, and even made it to that really spooky magical guy toward the end. But she ran out of tokens before she could beat him. Sighing, she left the arcade to go elsewhere. She might have spent more on the game, but she prided herself on being able to stay within her budget. With a credit card, even one where she didn't have to pay the bills, that was one of her main concerns. It was time to head elsewhere. Perhaps to Waldenbooks, she decided, and then back to the bike to check out someplace else. As she left the arcade, two men in trenchcoats watched her go from the shadows. "That's the one?" one asked. "Yeah...that's her," the other said. WHO ARE THESE MYSTERIOUS MEN? WHAT ARE THEIR INTENTIONS? WHY ARE THEY HANGING AROUND A VIDEO ARCADE WATCING SARAH CONNER? HAVE THEY ALREADY SPENT ALL THEIR TOKENS OR SOMETHING? WILL THEY CAUSE TROUBLE? SOME OF THIS AND MAYBE SOME OTHER STUFF TOO, COMING UP ON AN UPCOMING... S U P E R G U Y ! ! ! ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Jan 1994 21:58:30 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, Part 2 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS PART 2 By Robotech_Master Starring Sarah Conner, from Team M.E.C.H.A. Text Formatting by nroff Sarah Conner left Waldenbooks a few dollars poorer and one book richer. The book was a treatise on unicorns. She thought Summer might find it interesting; she'd been fascinated with unicorns herself when she was Summer's age, why might not Summer be? Sarah didn't notice the two trenchcoat-clad figures that appeared to be trailing her... A short time later, Sarah had stuffed her purchases into the top pannier of her Cyclone and was getting ready to leave. At this point, she did notice the two trenchcoat-clad figures, but assumed they were simply passing tourists or something. "Ah...where shall I go now...?" Sarah wondered. "Ah...DEMOLITION MAN is still playing at the $1.25 theater. Imagine that. Hmm...I do seem to have two hours to kill. And it's just a short way down the street...All right." One of the little quirks she'd developed during her relationship with Adam was a certain fondness for senselessly violent movies. And at $1.25, even if it was a nearly worthless flick, she would still have gotten her money's worth. And she'd seen DEMO MAN twice already. Worthless, it was not. So, she parked her bike outside and went in to see the movie. Concession prices were, as usual, through the roof... "$10.00 for a soft drink? I think not..." Fortunately, she had the candy supply from Mr. Bulky's, and it was a simple matter to dash over to a Git'n'Git-Outta-Here across the street and acquire an appropriately-sized beverage, which she hid in her purse. Walking back to the theater, she noticed the two trenchcoated figures again, and began to get suspicious. Especially when they noticed her noticing them, and scurried off. "This is too weird," Sarah thought. "Are those guys after me? Naaaaah." But just in case, she retrieved her Gallant H-90 laser pistol from the Cyclone pannier and stashed it in her purse. She wouldn't be caught defenseless, at least. As she put the gun in her purse, she noticed the M.E.C.H.A. communicator, a device rather resembling a small cellular phone, or perhaps, just a little, a communicator from the old STAR TREK. She considered taking it out, contacting the rest of the team. Then she considered how ridiculous she would look if it turned out to be nothing. "Right. The movie's about to start." So she walked inside and bought her ticket. She didn't notice the two trenchcoated figures walking into the theater after her... "You can take this job, and you can shovel it." "Take this job...and shovel it? Close enough." Sarah chewed on a mint, completely engrossed in the movie. She loved this part... Meanwhile, two rows behind her, the trenchcoated individuals were holding a quiet argument among themselves. "I say we gas her now, and be quick about it. His Eminence will not be pleased if we let her escape..." "No, no...we can't afford to rush this, we have to be SURE! What if we get the wrong person or something?" "There's no chance of that. I tell you, that IS HER! She was last seen in this miserable piddling little town, and she had talked to everyone about her desire to 'go American.' As you can see, she has done exactly that. We must nab her, if the situation back in Te--" "SHHHHH!" "What? Why shouldn't I say the name of--" "Because they might HEAR you, that's why?" "Who? There's no one around who could possibly be concerned in--" "No, no...the READERS, you idiot, the READERS!" "Oh. Sorry." Even though his face was almost invisible under the trenchcoat and fedora, he sported an embarrassed grin and hunched farther down in his seat. "Now, I'm telling you, we have to be CAREFUL about this. Observer her some more, and THEN--" "All right, I didn't want to tell you this before, but I already contacted His Eminence and told him we had found her. He will be waiting for us to bring her in now." "What?!" the other figure gasped so loudly that half the patrons in the theater SHHHHHed them. "I said we've found her. I mean, look, was there ever any doubt? Look at her. The hair, the face--it's IMPOSSIBLE we could be mistaken. It would be an INCREDIBLE coincidence for there to be another like her within a thousand miles." Somewhere, Dan Rossi would have been laughing hysterically if only he knew... The movie ended, and Sarah stayed to watch the credits and listen to the end title song by Sting. "I HAVE to get the soundtrack to this..." she remarked. "We're alone! Now's our chance!" one of the trenchcoated figures, the only other patrons left in the theater, whispered to the other. "Let's--" And just then, the theater attendants walked in to shovel up the mounds of popcorn buckets and soft- drink cups left behind by the retreating moviegoers. "Never mind..." Sarah walked out of the theater, eying the trenchcoated men nervously. Now she was SURE that something was up, and she wanted to get as far away from them as she could as fast as possible. And so she straddled the VR-038-LT Cyclone and powered it up, leaving a strip of rubber in the parking lot. "She's escaping! She must not get away!" the first figure said. "Yeah, you're telling me. Get to the pursuit bikes!" And the two figures dashed for the powerful street machines parked over in the next lot. As Sarah looked over her shoulder, noticing the two bikes pull out of the lot, she muttered, "Oh, yeah, great. I decide to go shopping, and I run into trenchcoated goons with pursuit bikes. Did I do something wrong in a past life or something?" She leaned low over the handlebars. Sarah Conner raced down the street named, appropriately enough, Battlefield, headed west. Her eyes tracked left to right, right to left behind her helmet visor as she weaved in and out among traffic at 65 miles per hour. Imagine Priss Asagiri having a bad day. But whoever the trenchcoated guys were, they were good. They managed, somehow, to keep up, and one of them spoke into a microphone on the inside of the lapel of his trenchcoat. "I don't care what strings you have to pull, just get it set up!" He grinned in the shadows underneath his coat and hat. "Bloody son of a--" Sarah gasped. A big rig truck had turned over on the highway, blocking all but one lane of traffic, and that lane was full. "If I only had my armor on--" But there was no time to stop. Sarah looked around for her options. She could race through the lane of traffic, taking her chances with running into something or--that car! That was it! And so, yelling at the top of her lungs, Sarah Conner bumped up onto the front of a convenient car and used it for a jump ramp, catapulting over the trailer and touching down on the other side with a burst of braking rockets. Shedding some of her excess speed in a skid, she continued onward. "Don't YOU even think about it!" the second trenchcoated figure ordered the first. "Don't worry, it's covered. Just press the red button." "What, you mean this re--WHOAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!" The bike suddenly and without warning lifted off on a trail of rocket thrust. The trenchcoated figure, barely managing to maintain control, touched down on the other side and nearly wiped out. The other one landed in a somewhat more controlled fashion beside him. "You really should attend more weapons briefings, you know." "Just shut up and get her!" Sarah couldn't believe it! They were still on her tail, and were catching up! "This is ridiculous. I can leave these guys behind, if I can only get out into the open..." The traffic was slowing her down. "Is Operator 1-800 in place?" the first figure spoke into his lapel. The answer: "Affirmative. 1-800 Operator is ready to collect." "Excellent." The pursuit bikes rocketed onward. "Lock on and stand by." The two bikes slowly gained, coming right up beside Sarah Conner. Then they swerved toward her, forcing her over to the right. Too late, she realized that they were forcing her into an off-ramp. She raced up the ramp--and right into a waiting truck. The door rapidly slammed shut behind her, leaving her in darkness. Sarah pulled off her helmet and swore violently, impugning the ancestry of the trenchcoated figures, their trenchcoats, the truck, the highway department, and Barry Manilow back to the dawn of time. She turned on the 38-Lite's headlights and took a look around. She was in a trailer, plain and simple. And the truck was moving, she could tell that much from the vibrations. "Well, we'll just see..." She reached for her purse. A few shots from the Gallant would convince the door to open, and then she would see just what these guys who'd kidnapped her had on their alleged minds... But then, with a clatter, three cylindrical objects fell out of a hatch high on the forward section of the trailer, and began spewing clouds of mist. "Gas!" Sarah gasped. If she could get to the CVR armor's oxygen tanks in time...but she couldn't. CLUNK! As the two trenchcoated figures congratulated themselves on a job well done and climbed into the cab of the big rig truck, a third figure watched from the overpass. This figure wore a trenchcoat that was several sizes too large, with a similarly sized hat. The figure reached up and shoved the hat back, revealing a female face framed by brown hair. A very familiar- looking face. "I cannot let this happen," the girl said in a voice with a curious accent. "I must go back." She pulled the trenchcoat tighter around her, and hailed a cab. WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? WHO ARE THE TRENCHCOATED FIGURES? WHO IS "HIS EMINENCE"? WHY DO THEY WANT SARAH? WHO IS THE GIRL WITH THE FAMILIAR-LOOKING FACE? WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? "You asked that one already." OH, THANKS. SCRATCH THAT LAST ONE. ANYWAY, THE ANSWERS YOU'RE LOOKING FOR, AND SOME THAT YOU'RE NOT, WILL BE POSTED EVENTUALLY TO... S * U * P * E * R * G * U * Y ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 25 Jan 1994 17:29:44 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, Part 3 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS PART 3 By Robotech_Master Starring Sarah Conner from Team M.E.C.H.A. Teaser Questions by My Narrator When Sarah Conner woke up, she was rather confused. As consciousness slowly returned to her, she groaned, shook her head. She opened her eyes, and her vision slowly cleared. "Whoa..." she remarked. "This is not my beautiful house." She looked around. "It sure is beautiful, though..." And it was. She was lying in the middle of a four-poster bed large enough to sleep seven, in the middle of a large, large room, ornately furnished in a unicorn motif. The quilts had unicorns embroidered all over them, and the bedposts were carved into unicornine figures. Even the fireplace brick was arranged in patterns suggesting unicorn heads. "I get the feeling I'm not in Missouri anymore, Toto..." Sarah muttered. "Where the hell (TM) IS this?" She made her way out of bed (after nearly getting lost a couple of times). Still feeling somewhat woozy from the gas, she moved over to one of the windows through which sunlight was streaming in and looked out. "Whoa..." She was in a tower of some sort, she could see that, and it seemed, upon further observation, to be attached to a rather largish stone castle. Being as she was, she judged, two hundred feet or so up in the air, she had an excellent view of the surrounding hills and forest, as well as a small village a couple of miles down the slope. Looking down at herself, Sarah noticed that she was wearing a silk nightgown, with lace and frills attached. It was very pretty, Sarah thought, but it made her look like she was about ten. Ugh. "What did they do with my clothes?" Sarah wondered, looking around. Sarah didn't find her American clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt. What she did find was an extremely fancy medieval- styled gown. Something like what girls wore for high school awards ceremonies, only not quite so phony and several orders of magnitude more impressive. "Ye ghods," Sarah muttered. "I'm supposed to wear THAT?!" There was a knock at the heavily-built oaken door across the room. "Yes? Who is it?" Sarah asked. "Milady's lady-in-waiting, here to help milady on with her dress," an accented female voice announced. "What? I don't need any--" Then, looking at the dress more closely and noticing that, instead of a zipper, it had some system of fastening she was unfamiliar with, and realizing that her real clothes were unlikely to show up and she couldn't go around in a nightgown, she changed her mind. "All right, come on in." It was also possible that she might even learn something through this. The door swung open, and a matronly older woman breezed through. The door was then swung shut behind her, and Sarah didn't miss hearing the telltale "click" that told of a bolt sliding shut on the other side. As the woman came toward her, Sarah took the initiative. "Would you mind telling me just where the hell (TM) I am?" she chose for her opening remark. The woman gasped and paled. "Such vulgar language for a young lady! Milady, I am SHOCKED! Is THIS what you've learned during the time you've spent in America? And that VULGAR accent!" "What accent?" Sarah asked. "I don't have an accent. YOU have an accent." Easy...watch that temper, Sarah told herself. You blow her off and you're not likely to get a second chance to find out where you are and what's going on. As the older woman looked like she was about to go into hysterics, Sarah took a deep breath and composed herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "I will--I will try to behave more politely." She tried to match the lady's strange accent, and succeeded, to some extent. The older woman nodded. "Excellent. Now, milady...we must get you properly dressed. It wouldn't do to keep His Eminence waiting." "Who's His Eminence?" This startled the lady-in-waiting so much that she nearly dropped the dress. "Who is His Eminence? Princess Ariella, did you have a fall on your head while you were in America?" Princess Ariella? Is that who they think I am? "Just humor me, uh...what's your name?" The lady looked quite shocked now. "Why, it's Sherise, milady. I've been your servant since you were but a babe, surely you remember me?" "Sherise...I'd like you to pretend that I'm a perfect stranger, okay?" Sarah said. Because I am, she didn't add. "Please answer my questions, no matter how strange they might seem." "Very well, milady. What would you like to know?" "What have they done with my clothes?" "Oh, those horrid things you were in when you arrived? Burned them, I should hope." Sarah fixed her with a steely gaze. She wilted. "I assume that they are keeping them someplace...I wouldn't know where." She removed Sarah's nightgown and began helping her wiggle into the dress. Sarah decided to try a different tack. "All right, all right...who is this 'His Eminence' guy?" "Milady, why must you speak in that germane dialect?" Sarah set her jaw. "Surely you know who His Eminence the Archbishop is." She began hooking the back of the dress shut. Sarah sighed. "Look, we'll just skip all that, okay? Just finish with the dress." I'll get to the bottom of this one way or another, Sarah decided. "Ah, I see that Her Highness has awakened!" the man in the Archbishop's robes announced in heavily-accented English as Sarah Conner came down the stairs. "It is good to see you again, Princess Ariella." Sarah couldn't look up, as she was concentrating on navigating down the staircase in that huge dress without tripping. Damn, I want my blue jeans back, she thought. "Good to see you again, too," she muttered sarcastically. "What was that?" the Archbishop asked, cocking a hand to his ear. "Uh, it's good to see you, too," Sarah repeated in a less sarcastic tone. Sarah looked him over. He was an older man, perhaps in his fifties. Gold rings and jewelry glittered on his fingers and around his neck. Sarah recalled a proverb she'd heard somewhere once: "Never trust a rich clergyman." She immediately decided she didn't like him. The Archbishop raised an eyebrow. "The Princess seems to have picked up more than just clothes during her stay in America," he observed to the man beside him. Sarah shifted her gaze to this man. He had a thin mustache, an aristocratic demeanor, and seemed to be dressed for hunting. His clothes were fancy, probably expensive, Sarah decided. He rather reminded her of Duke Cagliostro. She decided she didn't like him either. "Indeed. But all the same, it is good to have her back once more, and I am certain this American phase she is going through will soon pass..." this man replied, also in a thick accent. Pass my ass, Sarah thought. She wondered if everyone around here had a thick accent. She reminded herself once more to play along, and decided to open the round of questioning with something suitably princess-like, perhaps along the lines of... "Why have you brought me here? You must have known I did not intend to come back." Sarah felt extremely silly, adopting the accent and the stilted speech pattern, but it seemed to have these two fooled. As for the bit about not intending to come back, Sarah figured that if these guys had gone all-out with pursuit bikes and big rigs to try to catch her, the girl had to have one serious attitude problem toward them. And Sarah would have to say that she didn't blame her. "Now, now," the Archbishop began. "We could not leave Terrania without a ruler. Ever since your father, may God have mercy on his soul--" At this, they both placed their hands devoutly over their hearts. You old liars, Sarah thought. "-- passed away two months ago, the land has withered and died. We must have a strong ruler once more to return Terrania to the ways of righteousness, of strength--" "Of profit," the other one added. "Quite right," the Archbishop nodded. "We must have a daughter of Conner on the throne, lest the Unicorn fall and the kingdom crumble. You know the ancient prophesies as well as any of us, Your Highness. Why, what's the matter, your highness? You seem a little pale." "I'm...perfectly fine. It's just...jet lag." "Jet lag?" The aristocratic one looked puzzled. "Jet lag is a malady suffered by CIVILIZED people, stemming from rapid transit." The curl of the Archbishop's upper lip showed his disdain for so-called civilization. "When the body is out of balance with the cycle of day and night." "I--think I should return to my room," Sarah prevaricated. When the Bishop nodded, she fled back up the stairs. In "her" room once again, Sarah collapsed on the bed, heedless of her dress. She had just received a major shock to her system. A daughter of Conner. Sarah had almost managed to forget that she was adopted. WHOA. SARAH CONNER'S ADOPTED? SINCE WHEN? "Probably since she was very little." ER, YES. WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT BEING A DAUGHTER OF CONNER? WHO *IS* CONNER? SINCE HE'S DECEASED, SHOULDN'T WE SAY *WAS*? WHERE THE HECK IS TERRANIA? DO THE ARCHBISHOP AND HIS FRIEND HAVE EVIL DESIGNS ON SARAH CONNER? OR DO THEY JUST WANT TO MAKE HER THE QUEEN AS A GESTURE OF GOOD WILL? FIND OUT. SOMEDAY. OR SOMETHING. ONLY ON S ^ U ^ P ^ E ^ R ^ G ^ U ^ Y ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Jan 1994 12:24:12 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, Part 4 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS PART 4 By Robotech_Master Starring Sarah Conner Text Editing by pico Sarah Conner sat there on the bed for a long time, thinking. She remembered all the old tales her "mother" had told her about the mysterious man who had given Sarah to her. He'd said his name was Conner, but had never said whether it was his first or his last. Sarah's adoptive mother had simply assumed that was his last name, and raised young Sarah accordingly. Sarah had heard the stories so many times that she knew them by heart. How the mysterious man with the thick accent had shown up at her door one day, carrying the little girl in his arms. He had stayed only a few days, and left the girl in her care. All he'd told about her was her name, Sarah, and her birthday, and that she would know the full truth of her lineage one day. He had vanished back into the rain and the mist as suddenly as he had come, leaving the girl behind in the arms of a very shocked young lady. A few weeks later, she had been awarded full legal custody of young Sarah, and had raised her as her own. But she had never tried to keep the truth from Sarah, and had always maintained that someday, she would learn the truth about her ancestry. Sarah had dismissed the tale as a fairy story spun by her mother to make her feel better about having been adopted, but now...now, she wasn't sure what to think. "A daughter of Conner..." Sarah breathed. "Heir to a European kingdom. What would mother say?" She chuckled, then grew a bit more sober. "But something's rotten in the state of Terrania. That Archbishop and the other guy give me the creeps." With this decided, Sarah got up and started looking around the room. For what, she wasn't sure. But there HAD to be SOMETHING she could use. Her task wasn't made any easier by the large, fancy dress she was wearing. She devoutly wished for her old clothes again, but she knew that wishing wasn't likely to make it so in this case. What she needed was ACTION. And she thought she might have an idea...if she could JUST get her hands on the communicator... "What's this, now?" Sarah wondered, gazing at the cord stretching up into a hole in the ceiling. "Looks like a bellpull. I wonder if..." She tugged on it, and a bell sounded somewhere in the distance. "Ah, that did it," Sarah remarked, as a knock at the door signalled Sherise's arrival. "Yes, milady?" Sherise asked solicitously. "I realize that you're not likely to be able to obtain my old clothes for me," Sarah remarked, "but I would appreciate it if you could bring me my purse, the small handbag that I was carrying. It has some souvenirs I acquired in America that I value greatly." Sherise thought a moment. "I don't see that it could do any great harm. Very well, milady, I'll try." Sarah beamed. "Oh, thank you, Sherise. You're wonderful." "Oh, well, I do try." Sherise smiled back, then scurried off down the corridor. Sarah watched her go, then returned to the bed and sat down on it once more. "Hope that works..." she remarked. Then, as Sarah sat on the bed, she suddenly felt tired. "I think I AM suffering from jet lag," she remarked, yawning. She decided to get some rest. An undeterminable time later, Sarah Conner awoke to a knocking at her door. "Who is it?" she asked, getting up and trying to smooth out the wrinkles she'd made in the dress from sleeping in it. "Baron de Hevilode," the voice belonging to the Count Cagliostro-like man replied from beyond the door. "It is time." "Time for what?" Sarah asked. "Time for you to do what I had you brought back here for," the voice announced, and Sarah could sense the undercurrent of menace in it. "Come." "All right, all right, I'm coming, hold your horses..." Sarah gazed into the ornate, full-length mirror along the wall for long enough to straighten her hair, then went to the door where Baron de Hevilode waited with a contingent of the royal guard. He took her by the hand, and together they strode down the hall, the guards' swords rattling in time with their steps. They entered a spiral staircase, upon which they descended. For long minutes, the silence was broken only by the TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP of their booted feet, and the rattle of their swords. Geez, Sarah thought, haven't these guys ever heard of ELEVATORS? At the bottom of the stairs, de Hevilode dismissed the guards. He took a torch from a nearby holder and lit it, and then they walked down another corridor, alone. This hallway was dank and dusty, and cobwebs were everywhere. It was chilly, too. Sarah shivered just a little in the cold air. "I don't suppose it would do any good for me to tell you that I'm not who you think I am," Sarah said conversationally. "What do you mean?" the Baron sneered. "My name is not Princess Ariella, it is Sarah Conner. I'm an American citizen, I'm NOT your Princess." Baron de Hevilode stopped, turned to face her. "Do not try to make me out to be a fool, Your Highness. I know all about your little games of make-believe, pretending to be an American so you can 'escape.' Besides, if you are not Princess Ariella, why did you purchase THIS?" With a flourish, he produced the book on unicorns that Sarah had purchased at Waldenbooks. He's crazy, Sarah thought. Completely nuts. Guess there's nothing I can do but play along. "All right, all right, whatever." She shrugged, and they continued along the corridor in silence. At a certain spot along the passageway, de Hevilode stopped. He turned to face the wall, ran his fingers down it to a certain brick, pushed. The wall slid aside, and together they walked down another long, dark corridor, shadows dancing in the flickering candlelight. As they walked, there was silence. Neither of them said anything, and as they advanced, Sarah felt something strange. She wasn't sure what it was...kind of a tingling sensation down her spine, then over her entire body. It was a strange feeling, and Sarah shivered. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but it felt...compelling, somehow. As if something was deeply wrong, and it was up to her to set it right. And then they rounded a corner, and advanced into a brightly torchlit room. And then she saw it. The first thing Sarah's astonished eyes registered was its utter beauty. It lay there, soft white against the dungeon walls, almost seeming to glow with its own inner light. A unicorn. Perhaps 14 hands high, it was, with a white ivory horn and a strong resemblance to a horse except that it looked immensely...wiser. And then Sarah saw the iron shackles on its legs, the iron collar around its neck, the dirty straw it lay in, the feeble look in its eyes. It struggled weakly to get up when it saw them, but its strength faded, and it slumped pitifully back to the ground. Sarah gasped. "It's dying!" "No it isn't," the Baron laughed. "It's weak, but it will stay alive. For as long as you convince it to, at least." He laughed evilly. Sarah looked from him to the unicorn. "I...don't understand," she said. "Go over there." Baron de Hevilode gave Sarah a rough push, which sent her sprawling a few steps toward the unicorn. "Do whatever it is you do that convinces it to eat. It must not die before I have figured out to tap its powers for myself!" He moved back to the door and left, locking it behind him. Left alone now, Sarah Conner picked herself up and walked over toward the unicorn, being careful not to move too swiftly lest she inadvertantly frighten it. "Easy there," she said. "Easy there, girl." She knelt beside it. "Oh, you beautiful creature, what have they DONE to you?" she murmured. She saw the abrasions on its legs caused by the cold iron shackles, the collar around its neck. She saw the eyes, which held an expression of dwindling hope, and knew with a cold certainty that unless she did something soon, the unicorn was going to die here. "No...you aren't going to die," Sarah said, summoning a firm inner resolve. "I won't let you, I promise you that. I will get you out of here, but until I can, you must keep up your strength. You've got to eat, stay alive. It won't be long, I promise you that." She grabbed the bucket containing a mixture of grains, offered it to the unicorn. It took a couple of mouthfuls, feebly. Sarah looked up, a new fire burning in her eyes. "That bastard is going to pay. I promise you that." "How dare you keep that creature locked up like this?!" Sarah raged at Baron de Hevilode. "My, my, such a temper!" de Hevilode sneered. "And exactly what will you do to stop me? Tell the Archbishop?" "I just might!" Sarah fumed. "You're killing it! A beast that is supposed to MEAN something to this country! You must let it go! At once!" de Hevilode shook his head, steepling his hands. "No, my dear, I think not. You see, that beast is the key to my power. If I can find some way to tap it, transfer it to me, then I shall become the most powerful mage on this planet! Nothing will stand in my way. Certainly not you. Do you think the Archbishop will believe you? And even if he does, he can do nothing to me, nor would he want to. I have many, many friends who would make such an action utterly futile, and besides, I am the source of all the money that has been flooding into the church's coffers of late, due to my talent for making profit. He won't want to do anything to jeopardize that. And if my power is threatened, what then? If it looks like I will not be able to obtain the unicorn's magic, then I have nothing to lose by killing it, do I? And THEN where will this country be?" "You're going to kill it anyway!" Sarah accused him. "Don't deny it, I know it's true!" de Hevilode simply shrugged. "I am the one who controls this castle. You would be wise to remember that." Once more ensconced within her room in the tower, Sarah Conner stood at the window, staring out into the sky. Things had suddenly gotten a good deal more complicated. A unicorn! Sarah hadn't even thought that such a creature could exist. And yet...somehow, deep inside, she felt as if she'd known it all along. Just thinking of such beauty, such intense magic, brought a lump to Sarah's throat. Sarah was slightly surprised at herself. She'd not known herself caable of such feelings, especially for an...animal? No, not an animal...it was much, much more than that. She couldn't remember ever having felt...quite like this...ever before. She just couldn't stop thinking about its piteous condition. It was dying, she knew...unless she could get it to freedom, it was as good as dead. But how could it even exist? What was it doing HERE? These were answers that she simply didn't have. And she didn't have a clue as to how to find the only person she could think of who might have some of those answers. But, as it turned out, that wasn't something she needed to worry about. There was a click from within the room. Sarah turned in time to notice a section of the wall which she had previously thought was solid swing open, and a robed figure step out. The figure reached up to its head, pushed back its hood-- revealing a face that was very familiar to Sarah Conner. Familiar, because she saw it every time she looked in the mirror. That same brown hair, the same brown eyes, the same determined expression. She levelled a crossbow directly at Sarah Conner. "Princess Ariella, I presume," Sarah remarked, without moving. I wonder if this is how Hayley Mills felt... IS THIS HOW HAYLEY MILLS FELT? DID HAYLEY MILLS EVER HAVE A CROSSBOW POINTED AT HER BY HERSELF? WHAT'S WITH THE UNICORN, ANYWAY? AND THE BARON? WHERE DOES THE ARCHBISHOP FIT IN? WILL SARAH CONNER MANAGE TO GET THINGS ALL SORTED OUT? WHAT ABOUT PRINCESS ARIELLA? SOME OF THESE QUESTIONS MAY BE ADDRESSED IN A FUTURE... SUPERGUY!!! (Some assembly required.) ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 28 Jan 1994 08:08:00 EDT Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: A really good cup of tea Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns Part Six The beautiful woman pursed her lips slightly, awaiting her companion. When he entered the room, she was caught, again, at just how beautiful he was. She didn't love him for his features, really, but every once and again she was caught by their ruggedness. The way the brow, the nose, the sloping cheeks and cleft chin seemed to be chiseled from granite, and then brought together and softened by the ruddiness of his skin. The image was one of life, of vitality. "I brought dinner," he said. "I hope you like Extra Crispy." The woman nodded and allowed as how she did indeed like Extra Crispy. The two started to eat. "Sweet Ari," he said, after a few pieces of dark meat -- he being a dark meat sort of person -- "you seem...troubled." She sighed. She had known this was coming. "I am, she said. "Why? There has been no sign--" "But there has." She swallowed a mouthful of Pepsi -- such a new experience, these colas. "Two men of our homeland came for me." "What?" "But they found...another. A woman who looks as much like me as I do myself. And they took her." His eyes grew dangerous. "Then...they shan't be looking for you for some time, and we can get far from here. Far enough to escape them." She shook her head, knowing that he would expect her to do nothing less. "I cannot allow an innocent to suffer my fate in my place," she said. "I must return and help her. I pray that you shall come with, but I shall not expect it of you." "Ari," he half-whispered, "I could never allow you to return without me." She nodded. "Then let us prepare." "Ari," he said, a concerned look on his face, "we're low on funds. How will we even return quickly enough to help this double of yours?" Ari pursed her lips. "I...shall cast a locator spell, which shall find the one destined to help us return." He arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure your magic's that good? You're still a beginner." She nodded, and closed her eyes. Swiftly, she wove one of the few spells she had learned, praying that it would hold, and set it free. It darted, birdlike, from Springfield. It soared high, coming down in Upstate New York. And there it saw him. A dark, handsome mysterious man of power, sitting in a cafe. It approached, preparing the link that would reveal to Ari his identity-- When a man all factors of magic *swore* would not be there stepped straight through the spell, changing destiny and triggering the spell. And that was that, for Ari was not experienced enough to know that he was not the right man. "I have him," she said. "He is in Ithaca, New York, and they call him... Scholarman." ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS PART 5 by Eric, Lord Sabre Starring Scholarman Text Editing by WordPerfect CONTINUITY CASEWORK If Chris doesn't know how this relates to Team M.E.C.H.A.'s plot, which Sarah Conner is involved with, I'll be darned if I know how this relates to the Adjusted League Unimpeachable's plot, which Scholarman is involved with. Call it out of Continuity and wake me when you get it. Rubicon shot along the snow-covered city streets at a comfortable eighty-seven miles an hour, which was just fast enough to scare the two occupants of the magical 1986 Honda Accord LX Sedan to the point of near- urination. It was not the speed per se that frightened them. No no. Both were quite used to Rubicon's psychotic driving habits. It was that they were going that speed on streets that were glare ice covered by an inch and a half of loose, fluffy powder. Huge four wheel drive machines designed for bad weather had slid off the road left and right, their drivers having been stupid enough to attempt a break-neck thirty-three miles an hour. "Rubi!!!!" Scholarman shouted at the dashboard of his automobile. "Are you trying to get us killed???!!!" "Cool your jets. It's just a little snow." "It's a snow *emergency*. The roads are closed. It's illegal to even be *out* here tonight!" "Well then, the police won't be here getting us, will they?" She swerved between cars going either way, causing both to spin out and Rubi herself to fishtail hopelessly before she got it back under control. "Perhaps one of us should drive," Ignorantman said, proving once and for all that Naivete does not mean you're stupid. "Forget it," the car replied. "Besides, I know what I can do. Heck, I'm a Maine car, aren't I? I don't sweat snow!" "The *car* is from Maine," Scholarman shouted, "but *you've* never driven in Maine in your *life!!!*" "No troubles -- we're here!" So saying, Rubicon jammed on the brakes, causing the vehicle to do eight three-sixties in the snow, coming to rest in the parking lot, three feet from a concrete wall, perfectly well parked. "Comments?" Rubicon asked. "Where can I find another pair of underwear?" Ignorantman pondered. "Save it," the vehicle said. "You're here. You don't want to be late your first night on the job." "She's right," Scholarman said. "You're the only one of us making any money right now, so let's go." Ignorantman nodded. He was not dressed in his uniform right now, but instead the Uniform of his new profession. A profession where Bart Breadcrumb was the key, not Ignorantman. they stepped into the citadel where Bart was to serve mankind in his new way. He stepped back where Scholarman could not follow, and within a few seconds, reappeared. He was now empowered to discharge his new duties, and Scholarman would be the first recipient of this. "Welcome to McDonalds," Bart said. "May I take your order?" * * * * * * Scholarman watched the line build at Bart's station, even as he munched on a French Fry. Despite the snow, McDonalds was open, which meant that anyone who didn't want to deal with cooking went there. And dealt with Bart. A woman slipped into the booth across from Scholarman, which was quite unexpected because for one, Scholarman didn't know her, for two, beautiful women didn't usually go out of their way to meet Scholarman, and for three, Scholarman didn't go out of his way to attract beautiful women. No stranger to the travails of love, Scholarman had become quite jaded when it came to relationships. Indeed, he had firmly adopted the opinion that romance served only to distract a person from true Karmic Development, as romance distracted from the truly important spiritual things, such as bowling and beer. Of course, as Sorcerer Superfluous, Scholarman was entirely disconnected from the Cosmic Wheel of Balance, and therefore his Karma was essentially irrelevant, but I digress. "Is this seat taken?" the woman asked in an accent that could not easily be identified. It was a good accent, though, and fit her voice, which in turn fit her face. Which in turn fit her body. Which in turn fit Scholarman's world-view under the heading of `Phenomenal.' She looked about nineteen or twenty, with brunette hair and a smile that could have killed nine on the highway at night. Occasionally, the best way to develop your Karma is to decide to ignore your Karma. "No," Scholarman said. "Not at all." "Good." She munched a french fry, savoring it in that way brunettes had of savoring something most people found mundane. There was an enigmatic quality to the woman that could cause congestive heart failure in certain out-of-shape men over forty. It was though she was still getting used to French Fries -- still experiencing each one as something new, something unique. Scholarman shoved three fries of his own into his mouth, and swallowed after three chews. On a night like this, a french-fry was a potential heat source to him, and nothing more. "So what do I owe the honor of your company," he said pleasantly, striving for debonair as he sipped diet coke. "Well, I need your aid, Scholarman," the woman said, delicately nibbling a McNugget. This caused Scholarman to debonairly snarf half a cup of Diet Coke, causing a debonair spray to coat the booth's table. "How do you know that name?" Scholarman asked. He wasn't even in uniform. Partially because he didn't have a uniform beyond a domino mask, which itself he left at home, tonight. Unless it were in Rubicon's glove compartment -- which really wasn't relevant, right now. The woman smiled, amused at the reaction. "I scryed your presence," she said. "You are the one destined to assist me." Scholarman regained a sense of composure, and chuckled. "You have the wrong man," Scholarman said. "I'm not destined to do anything." She smiled. "You cannot deny your place in the scheme," she said. "I'm not. My place in the scheme is to have no place in the scheme." The woman looked confused. "Have you ever heard of the Sorcerer Superfluous?" The woman shook her head. "Ah. Anyway -- what do you need help with? And for that matter, what is your name?" The woman smiled. "I am the Princess Ariella, of the land of Terrania. I need your assistance in returning to my homeland, and rescue a woman who was kidnapped in my place." Scholarman stared at the woman for a long moment. "All right," he said, looking around. "I'm on `Super-Heroic Practical Jokes and Bloopers' with Nouveau Skunk, aren't I? Come on -- let's see it." "You...don't believe me?" the woman asked, apparently surprised. "That's right -- unless -- you're with the Society for Creative Anachronism, aren't you. Yeah -- that explains it. Where is Terrania, anyhow? Minnesota?" "No -- Europe. What are you saying? I am speaking the truth to you!" Scholarman stared into Ariella's eyes for a long second. "All right -- maybe you are. You need help returning to your county, and freeing a woman who was kidnapped back to your country instead of you. Why were they kidnapped? Why aren't you there -- are you on the run?" Ariella sighed. "I...am. An evil man called the Baron de Hevilode has used manipulations of the economy to effectively usurp the land, and mislead our Archbishop into helping him. I would have stayed, to assist in freeing my land and...and certain powers of my land, but...." "But what?" "But the Baron had discovered the existence of the man I love, and he and the Archbishop both judged him unworthy as a commoner and...and as a thief." "Was he a thief?" "He is a good man," she said, passion flaring her cheeks. "That wasn't my question." Ariella looked away. "So you and he fled to America, the land of fast food?" "Essentially." Scholarman nodded. "And now someone else who looks like you has been kidnapped and taken to your country instead of you? That's a lot of work to capture a woman who represents a significant challenge to one's authority." Ariella looked uncomfortable. "There are...other considerations, which the Baron needs me for." Scholarman could detect Ariella's discomfort. She seemed to be a woman unaccustomed to dishonesty, force into the strange situation of having to use subterfuge. "All right...well, we'll have to consider this carefully, Princess. I assume you want to teleport there, and teleportation isn't easy in the best of circumstances, and I'm in the enviable position of having to teleport to a land I've never been to before, never heard of before -- in fact, I've never even teleported before." "You haven't?" Ariella asked, surprised. "Nope," Scholarman replied. "I'm new at all this." "But...I thought you were a Master Class Sorcerer and Mystic." "I am. I just happen to be new at this." Ariella looked puzzled again. "Perhaps the spell *was* in error," she mused. Scholarman shrugged. "You can always recast." "No," she said. I shall have faith in you." She sounded somewhat unsure. "Cool beans. Pardon me, I have to go tell my partner I'll be late for dinner." Scholarman rose and walked over to the line, which was now exactly three people away from breaking the Moscow McDonalds line's record for most people impatient for the great taste of reprocessed beef. "Welcome to McDonalds," Bart was saying to a new customer. "May I take your order?" "I'd like a Quarter Pounder Extra Value meal," the person in front said. "Why should you want a Quarter Pounder Extra Value Meal when the two cheeseburger meal is almost a dollar less for more food?" Bart replied amiably. "I -- well--" "Why do we call them extra value meals when you end up paying for a larger drink and fries than you might want? Why do people come to McDonalds when they can get the same food at home for less? Why do McDonalds fries taste so much better than anyone else's fries? Why do people buy the McChicken Sandwich because it is chicken and therefore contains less fat, when we deep fry them *in* fat? Why are Filet-O-Fishes on the Menu when no one has bought one since 1967? Who decided to make the Chicken McNuggets look like the one part of the chicken you wouldn't want to eat? Why doesn't McDonalds add enough milk to the shakes to call them milkshakes again? What exactly gets shaken? Here you are sir, that will be four dollars and sixteen cents." "What? I...I don't...." "Thank you and come again." The man staggered off with his food. "Bart -- got an assignment!" Scholarman called to him. "Hold the fort!" Bart nodded. "Welcome to McDonalds," he said to the next person in line. "May I take your order?" "Uh...a Big Mac extra value meal with coke, and a happy meal with coke?" "Why are they called happy meals? Are the meals happy to be meals? Would they not be happier as cows still alive?" Scholarman walked away, before he heard much more. * * * * * * Teleportation, or more properly, Translocation, is a potent thing no matter how it is accomplished. You see, no matter if you use Magic or Physics, there are physical laws involved which simply cannot be flouted. The law of conservation of energy, for example. If a person is Translocated from the bottom of a hill to the top of that hill, there is an increase in the potential energy of that person, just as though that person expended chemical energy in their muscles, to transfer that to kinetic energy, to walk up the hill. These energy changes are a fact of life, and they must be accounted for. If one does not factor it when teleporting, that energy will be taken out of the body heat of the person involved, for example. A sudden drop of several degrees, which would be more than enough to throw the person in question into a state of shock. Which would be quite a price for avoiding climbing a hill, if you think about it. Translocating down is worse, as it involves the release of potential energy. In this hypothetical case, this would raise a person's body temperature several degrees so quickly that a fever would not be the result so much as several of that person's blood vessels with the sudden expansion of blood, while the person's brain would rise to simmering temperature quickly. These are simple cases. One has to factor in the increase of energy or the safe shunting of energy, when employing Translocation, and add it to the energy of the transfer itself. But there are more difficult cases. For example -- a Translocation of distance has to involve and negate vectors of movement. You see, we are in constant motion. The Earth is constantly moving in Space. The surface of the Earth is constantly rotating on an axis. Forces of Gravity from our moon produce a constant force on us. Our Star system itself is moving at a high rate of speed. Our Galaxy is also moving at a high rate of speed. All of these invisible vectors of motion, adding to the bodies in question. They all must be factored in, unless the body wants to arrive at his destination at the same vector which was at rest at the last point he was at. So what does that mean, you ask? Let us assume you are translocated from Northern New York to Southern Florida. Logically, you would think you would appear at the same vector you left. However, imagine the globe spinning (if you have a globe at hand, you may spin it for demonstration purposes). The equator, or middle of the globe, spins much much faster than the poles, at the top and bottom of it. Florida is much closer to the equator than New York is. If you appear in the Keys at a vector which is `at rest' in New York, you will discover you are moving at over three hundred miles an hour to the east, in Florida. This is unpleasant. If you translocate to the exact opposite side of the globe from yourself, the problems becomes worse. That side is moving at the same vector you are -- with the additional consideration that it is moving in the *opposite* direction. So you will suddenly be moving at Mach Two, if you're on the equator. Combine these two problems -- translocating to a different longitude and latitude, and mix in translocation to a different altitude, and you are discussing a *tremendous* amount of power just to adjust your vectors and potential energy from your old location to your new location. Bet you have more respect for Chief O'Brian on Star Trek, now. Scholarman finished his calculations, based on the coordinates Ariella was able to provide, plus a world almanac and a nautical chart he had managed to track down at Tompkins Public Library. According to Ariella, Terrania was in a much warmer climate, this time of year, so they were wearing light clothing and carrying little luggage, to minimize mass. "Damn," Scholarman said after computing all the intricate formulas needed for power, for negation of vector, and the like. "This is worse than Calculus Homework -- how does Dar *do* it so fast?" "Dar who?" Ariella asked. "Never mind. Are you and whatshisname ready?" Ariella introduced Scholarman to whatshisname, which was actually Robert. Robert was a handsome, somewhat roguish man -- the sort of man you expected to see on the cover of a Romance Novel, save that he looked nothing like Fabio and he appeared to be able to conjugate verbs. Robert examined Scholarman in much the same way an exterminator examined a particularly large cockroach as it ate an entire frito before his eyes, just before inflicting chemical death on it, but he seemed to accept Ariella's approval. Scholarman scribed a circle on the floor of the small apartment with a piece of chalk, and stepped into it. He indicated that Princess Ariella and Robert should step in as well. "Once in," he said, "Ariella should stand between us, and you and I should both put an arm around her." Robert glowered. "Why her in the middle," he said. "Two reasons," Scholarman said. "First off, because if we happen to translocate into trouble, you and I should be on the outside to defend against it. Secondly, I mean no offense, but if I have to put my arm around either of you, I'll pick her." Robert thought it over. "I guess I can't fault your honesty," he said at last. "Will this hurt?" "I haven't the foggiest," Scholarman said. "Although I *will* say that if I got any of those calculations wrong, pain will be the least of our worries." "Your confidence is inspiring," Ariella said. Scholarman wove the intricate signs of the spell, and with a flash of light, they were gone. WILL THEY SURVIVE TRANSLOCATION? TRANSLOCATION IS THE PROPER WORD? THAT MAKES IT SOUND LIKE YOU'RE TELEPORTING LANGUAGE, NOT PEOPLE! HEY, I THOUGHT THAT ROBOTECH_MASTER WAS WRITING THIS SERIES! WHAT'S SABRE DOING HERE? The answers to some of these will be found in the Care and Feeding of Unicorns Part 6, only on Superguy, where we don't accept cheap excuses and we don't take American Express. ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 20:07:00 EDT Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Pagan Birthday Rites Subject: SG: On the Care anf Feeding of Unicorns #6 The countryside was quite lovely. It was pristine and lovely, one of the few areas left in all of Terrania that was undisturbed from the loss of the Unicorn. There was the tinkling of birdsong in the distance, as a deer bent over to drink its fill at a crystal clear stream. That was when the explosion of light and sound racked the countryside, and three bodies skidded over the stream and into a bush, the wind being knocked out of them. The deer, having seen this, decided against that particular drinking hole and ran like Hell. "Damn," Scholarman muttered, as he picked himself out of the bush. "I must have forgotten to carry the two." "Remind me not to teleport again," Robert said, spitting a guppy out of his mouth. "How did you get to America in the first place?" Scholarman asked, as both he and Robert helped Ariella out of the bush. "We travelled steerage on a Freighter," Ariella answered. "It was so romantic...." "Yeah, sure sounds it," Scholarman said. "Well -- what now, mine friends?" ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS PART SIX Starring Scholarman Written By Eric, Lord Sabre Uploading by PCPlus Scholarman closed his eyes, and conceptualized for a couple of minutes. He knew the sort of thing they were describing -- five years worth of Renaissance Festivals, including time as a paid actor, had taught him a few things about the proper clothing for the country. But a clothier's spell was tricky -- especially since he was actually altering the American clothing they were wearing into the right cut and material for Terrania. Breeches, hose, appropriate shoes, and jerkins. That shouldn't have been very hard. Magic, however, was not a simple thing. One has to piece together the elements of spells, weaving them like fabric themselves, and the wrong weavings would lead to the wrong spells. He began to make some mystic passes, twisted his fingers into a spell, and opened his eyes. Perfect. "Scholarman... could... you... possibly... make... this... blouse... any... *tighter?*" Ariella wheezed, trying not to burst out of her blouse as she did it. Scholarman had apparently underestimated Ariella's... lineage was possibly a safe word. With a retailoring rite, he made the problem right, and the two looked satisfied. Two people, that is. Get your mind out of the gutter. "All right," Scholarman said. "So where are we going?" "Well," Ariella said, "I'm not entirely sure. I've never been in this part of the country before." "Joy," Scholarman said. "Follow me," Robert said, smiling slightly. "There are days a thief's more useful than a princess." "I don't know if *more* useful's the right way of putting it, Robert Dear," Ariella said lightly. Scholarman elected not to comment as he followed Robert. * * * * * * Autumn felt herself slam against the wall. She tasted the salty- copper taste of blood in her mouth, even as the whip crashed against her. Tears sprung to her eyes and she twisted away, only to have the silver necklace torn from her. "Here it is!" one of them shouted. "The Mark of the Devil Himself!" "I told you!" Yves said, exultant. "I told you what *she* was!" "Here's for the food I'll never feed my child!" one farmer cried, bringing the buggy whip down across her shoulders. "Come on -- bring her! We shall end this famine *tonight!*" Autumn forced herself not to cry, as they pulled her from her home. It seemed they had lost even the semblance of a trial, this time. And not one man of the town seemed to care. Not even Yves. * * * * * * The three made their way in the night, when Robert froze and cocked his head, listening. "Something's coming," he said in a prison whisper. "We have to--" The sound of a crossbow bolt whizzing past his ear caused Scholarman to dive to the side, knocking Ariella out of the path of the shots. "Surrender in the name of the Baron de Hevilode!" came a cry. "Foresters with crossbows!" Robert shouted, ducking himself. "Run -- we can't hold them off!" Scholarman started to run before a rather simple fact kicked him in the head. He was a Master Class Mage. Why the Hell *couldn't* he hold the guards off? He swallowed -- he had never really been in a fight before -- and silently cast a spell of Nightvision. Suddenly, the world turned varying shades of blue, and after a second's adjustment, he realized he could see as well as he could on a Summer's Day. There were two Foresters on horses. One had a crossbow, aimed right for Robert's shoulderblades. He was pulling-- Scholarman summoned a spell and blasted it out as blue-white lightning. The spark cracked into the Forester, causing his aim to go off and also causing him to fall from his horse, spasming. It was low amperage, so the most damage would be a headache. The other forester cursed and loudly called on God's intervention, to cast out the Warlock. Scholarman suppressed a flash of anger -- there were no such things as Warlocks. Male Witches were simply called witches. `Warlock' was old Scots for Oath-breaker. If there was one thing not to call a Scottish-American, it was Warlock. Scholarman wove a spell of containment, caused the Forester to fall into a hallucinogenic trance, wove a spell that made him remember his name as `Wankel Rotary Engine,' and altered his gender for good measure. "Wow," Ariella said as the female forester slipped from the saddle, mumbling stuff about Woodstock and giggling. "Remind me not to anger you." "It'll wear off in a few hours," Scholarman said, smiling. He had done it. He had taken out a couple of goons. It hadn't even been hard -- he really *was* a Master Class Mage! Robert slipped among the two, and collected some choice bits of gear from them. Most especially he took their crossbows and quarrels, and handed one to Ariella. He sort of smiled at Scholarman. "I don't suppose you need one of these, do you?" Scholarman smiled. "No, not really," he said. * * * * * * Autumn struggled, shouting for the people of the town to see reason. But none of them would. The Priest was there, shouting about the fires of Hell. The farmers were erecting the post. Even the children were helping to gather kindling. Rowen wood and mistletoe, to drive off evil things. To drive off her. She knew then that she was going to die. They would burn her alive, as they had for centuries. The others had warned her -- she would survive only as long as she remained an asset to the town. The day -- the *hour* that some unexplained malady descended upon them, she would burn. The fools. If she were so dangerous, why had she not woven a spell to stop them? Magic wasn't like that. Her power was not the power of death. And the power of life would only prolong the agony. Were there any of her kind? Could they hear? Would they help? Autumn couldn't be sure, but she had to try. She closed her eyes, and felt for the patterns of magic -- the Strength of the Goddess. She felt the Health of the Goddess flowing from the green Earth, weakened by this malady of the land, but far from dead. She felt the pulse of it, the beating Lifeblood of their world, and she sent her pleas for help through that heady medium, searching for one who would hear it. Searching for one who could help. * * * * * * "Always a pleasure to come across a horse," Robert was saying. He and Ariella were riding on one of the Forester's steeds, Scholarman on the other. Scholarman found himself glad for the equestrian training he had received when he was a boy. The only difficulties he was having was that he had been trained on Western Style horses, bit and bridle, and Terrania seemed to still use English style. But Scholarman had other things on his mind. Scholarman could feel the waves of...something. It was like there was some pallor over the land -- like something special was in great danger of being lost. It was like the entire country of Terrania was in danger of violation. Of desecration. Twice he had almost asked Ariella about it, and twice he had elected not to. "It's ten leagues yet to the castle," Robert was saying. "Do you know this land yet, Ari?" "Yes, dear Robert. It's not long. The horses will get us there soon enough, perhaps, to save that girl from the tortures they surely are inflicting on her." "And what then?" Scholarman asked. "What do you mean?" Ariella said, her brow furrowing. "I can sense... I dunno. Something. Some cancer violating your Country. What are we doing about that?" Ariella bit her lip. "That... is not for me to say." "Ah. Great. Love to move into these things fully briefed." Scholarman felt kind of queasy -- like the sickness of the land were seeping in. "The girl is the important thing," Ariella said. "We have to save her." There was still something unsaid, but Scholarman wasn't listening to her, any longer. There was definitely some other agency at work, now. Some power reaching out to him, through the land's malady itself. He reined in the steed, and pulled up short. "What is it?" Ariella asked. "Not sure," Scholarman said. "Stay on watch -- I need to check this." He closed his eyes, and sank into his own form. He then slowly released the tethers of the flesh from himself, and allowed himself to rise into the Grey World -- the world where thought and reality were one. He found himself clad in a patchwork coat -- as though scraps of other clothes were stolen and sewn together into the Mantle of his Office. It was appropriate -- the Sorcerer Superfluous was the one left over -- he had to take what he could get for a Mantle. He could see another, not far away. She had fiery golden hair, and piercing grey eyes. She was clad in clouds that were cloth -- the Mantle was not one of an Accreditation -- she was one of the minor Magi of the world. About her neck he saw a pentacle of pure silver. She was of the Wiccan Faith... a witch. >>Help me,<< she was saying. >>Help me, they are burning me. Help me....<< ``Where are you?'' Scholarman called, but it seemed she couldn't here. He sent his thoughts and power out into a spell of finding, amplified by this place, and then he knew. Scholarman's whole body jerked, like that annoying way your body does when you've just about fallen asleep. He looked around himself. "There's a problem," he said. "A woman -- she's in grave danger, not far from here. We have to help her!" "Are you insane?" Robert demanded. "We are already on a quest!" "Well, now we're on two!" Scholarman snapped, and drove his horse in a new direction, heedless now of detection. With a sigh of consternation, Robert and Ariella followed. * * * * * * Autumn was ripped from the Goddess's embrace by the horrid sting of the lash. She screamed despite herself, and tried to pull away. But they held her -- they would not let her go. And now they were ripping off her clothes, and using them to tie her to the stake. She was going to die, she had failed. She had almost thought she had heard an answer, but she knew that was a vain hope. The brands were being brought. Ten or more with torches. Including the Priest, who was screaming, though Autumn barely heard him. Including Yves, who looked so... different. So changed. Almost misanthropic. His true face, maybe. Autumn prayed that the Goddess would make it quick. * * * * * * "There -- *there!*" Scholarman shouted. He could see the mob. The harsh glare of the torches. He could see the bloodied, naked woman. He could smell the smoke. "Dear God," Robert swore. "They... they're burning her alive!" Ariella said, shocked. "They... they must have accused her of being a witch -- of causing all of this! We have to stop it!" "*No*, Ari!" Robert said, grabbing her. He sounded near tears. "What do you mean, `no, Ari?'" Scholarman demanded, turning in the saddle. "This... this *barbarism*--" But they were not looking at him. "Robert," Ariella said, pleading. "Ari -- what is one woman compared to your land? You are a Princess. You *must* serve the greatest good -- and that is stopping Baron de Hevilode. We can avenge that woman later. But now we must...." He was crying, almost. He looked like each word was tearing itself from him. It was as though he was giving of his soul...for the greatest good. Scholarman ripped his gaze from them. The torches were being laid. It struck Scholarman that without his presence, the Witch was destined to die. It was only his own intervention that would make a difference in that. Could he stand by and watch her die for the `greater good?' "All right," Ariella said, her voice a dirge. "Come, Scholarman. We must hurry." "You're right. If we don't hurry, she'll die." "That's not what I mean--" "I know what *you* mean." Scholarman swung off the horse. "The two of you can make better time without me. Go!" "But -- but we need you to--" "Get you to Terrania. I did that. Now I've got other things to do." Scholarman ran for the village -- already he could see the pile of wood at the woman's feet begin to smolder. "Well then, Princess," Robert said. "We are on our own." Ariella nodded, slid off her horse, and climbed onto the one Scholarman had ridden. The two turned and rode for the castle, leaving Scholarman behind. WILL SCHOLARMAN BE ABLE TO SAVE AUTUMN? SHOULD HE HAVE LET AUTUMN DIE ANYHOW? WILL ARIELLA AND ROBERT BE ABLE TO RESCUE SARAH CONNER FROM THE TORMENTS SHE IS CERTAINLY ENDURING? WAIT A MINUTE -- SARAH WASN'T BEING TORTURED! WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? Well, next you'll see our old pal Chris Meadows, as he sends forth Part Seven of The Care and Feeding of Unicorns -- *exclusively* on Superguy! ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 4 Feb 1994 22:30:00 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, #7 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS PART 7 By Robotech_Master, aka Hey Stupid! Starring Sarah Conner, Ariella, and Robert E-mail by pine Ariella had begun to get suspicious when Robert's reconnoiter had told her that her lookalike was NOT in the castle dungeon as she had expected, but instead safely ensconced in her own room in the tower. Fortunately, Robert knew all the secret ways through the castle, and it was simply a matter of finding the right passages to get to where she wanted to be. And so she looked out from the wall to see her foreign double sitting on HER bed in one of HER dresses, staring at the ceiling. She looked well. And not only that, she looked amazingly like Ariella herself! Ariella was momentarily shocked by the resemblance. She had seen from afar the way her hair and face were similar to her own, but from close up, the view was striking! It was easy to see why the bumbling incompetents sent by the Archbishop to capture her had made a mistake. Or, she began to wonder, had it BEEN a mistake? Ariella moved back to let Robert have his turn at the peephole. He made a choked sound. "By the unicorn, mistress, she looks REMARKABLY like you do!" he whispered. Ariella's lips formed a thin line as she set her jaw. "Indeed she does, my love. And I intend to find out WHY." Snatching up her crossbow, she released the catch and shoved the door open, stepping out into her room. As she pushed her hood back, her double looked up with a start. "Princess Ariella, I presume," she said coolly. "Indeed," Princess Ariella replied, walking around next to the bed, crossbow trained on the other girl. "And you have a good deal of explaining to do, and you'd best make it fast. To put it bluntly, just who the hell are you and what are you doing here?" Sarah sat up. "My name...is Sarah," she said. "And as to what I'm doing here, I was kidnapped by your FRIENDS, the Archbishop and Baron de Hevilode." "Were you, now?" Ariella wondered. Her accent, Sarah noted, was similar to Sherise's but a bit more delicate. "Or did they HIRE you? An impersonator, to play me and show all the people of Terrania that I'm back, happy, and doing just what the Archbishop tells me to do?" "I was KIDNAPPED, dammit!" Sarah said. "They forced me up into a truck and gassed me!" "Oh, I saw that. But it could have been a setup. After all, you DO look remarkably like me. And if you WERE kidnapped, why are you in my room in one of my dresses instead of rotting away in a dungeon somewhere?" Sarah snorted. "I couldn't very well be the Archbishop's pawn if they kept me in a dungeon somewhere, could they?" "Ah! So you admit it!" "No, that was SARCASM, Your Highness," Sarah said, slowly getting up. "Look." She crossed over to the door, hands held high in the air, and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she pulled. "Iron bars do not a prison make. Sometimes it's just a very thick wooden door." Ariella lowered the crossbow just a little. "Very well, I accept that part of your story. But you cannot POSSIBLY have an explanation for why you look so much like I do." "Would you believe me if I told you that my full name was Sarah Conner?" Sarah asked. Ariella almost dropped the crossbow. "Impossible!" "Oh, yeah, it's possible all right. My birthday's January 20th, 1976. What's yours?" Ariella paled, hands trembling. "It cannot be!" "Look, would you mind pointing that thing somewhere besides me? It might go off, and I wouldn't want to get blood on your carpets or anything..." A ruggedly handsome man in a leather jerkin and breeches stepped out of the passage behind Ariella and gently took the crossbow out of her hands. Ariella sat down on the bed so recently vacated by Sarah. "How could this BE? There were old tales, true, that my mother died giving birth to not a single child but to TWINS, but I always dismissed them as fantasies spun by superstitious peasants..." She trailed off into silence. Sarah wasn't exactly sure where she stood, and she was sick and tired of it. "Would someone please explain to me just what the hell (TM) is going on?" she wondered. Ariella nodded. "You deserve to know, if you are indeed who you say you are. Very well, I shall tell you." Ariella waved her hand, indicating the decor in which the room was furnished. "For many centuries, Terrania has been home to unicorns, perhaps the last ones on earth. They are seen only rarely, but they act as guardians of our nation, ensuring the fertility of the land and so forth. Many legends exist about these creatures, and they're MORE than just mere legends, they're a part of our national heritage. Thus, the unicorn is on our nation's crest, and is a national symbol. "In recent years, unfortunately, the creatures have receded to the status of a myth, and only a few people remaining have actually seen one of them. I am one of those people. "I first found the unicorn when I was about six..." Ariella said, staring off into space. "I was wandering in the nearby forests--I had slipped away from Sherise and everyone else, for I had wanted to go off on my own. I remember that I came into a clearing, a shady dell in the heart of the forest, and there I saw it...shining soft white in the morning sun." She sighed. "Oh, it was a beautiful creature. I just stayed there, watching it, until I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I found myself back outside the castle with Sherise scolding me." She smiled. "I was so excited that I went around telling everyone I met about this amazing creature in the forest. Only father really believed me, and he told me all the wondrous stories of unicorns from the olden days...and Baron de Hevilode believed me, too, though I didn't know that for a long, long time. "Recently, father passed on, and I was supposed to assume the throne. But then came the time of the Magic Wars, and Akane the Dark Goddess. It was then that I had my first real encounter with the unicorn..." She sighed. "It came up to me, and touched me...and at that point, I...I can't explain it. But I knew somehow that I possessed a great strength within me...a power for magic. And so I began to read and learn." "Magic?" Sarah asked. "Yes...it has always been strong in my family. Father had told me before that unicorns often came to those of strong magic potential." "I thought it was virgins," Sarah said. "No...that's simply an old wives' tale, though it does have some truth in it," Ariella said. "The truth is that unicorns are attracted to those of strong good or innocence and high potential for magic. In many cases, young virgins possess the highest potential for magic of any time in their lives. Thus, evil mages often make virgin sacrifices to gain power. However, sometimes this magic power is retained after the loss of virginity, and it is these rare individuals who become the most potent mages." "I see..." Sarah said. "So you had a strong magical potential. Okay." "Unfortunately, the Archbishop did not approve of my magical inclinations," Ariella continued. "Nor did he approve of my beloved Robert." She took the man's hand and held it in her own. "We met one day when I returned prematurely from from a ball and discovered him in my room." Robert looked distinctly embarrassed. "After the initial shock wore off, we got to know each other and became good friends. But, as I said, the Archbishop did not approve..." Ariella paced the room, agitated. "And then, shortly after the death of the Dark Goddess, when magic all over the world was at its most disrupted, the evil Baron de Hevilode was able, through base treachery, to capture the unicorn, shortly after I had seen it last. Immediately thereafter, Terranian crops began failing all across the land. I learned of this, and angrily insisted that he let the unicorn go. He refused, and furthermore, made me encourage the unicorn to eat, so that it would not die before he could carry out his evil scheme." "Ah. That part I know." Sarah shuddered. "Fortunately, it would seem that I have the same power to encourage it to eat as you do. Otherwise it would probably be dead right now." Ariella looked up in shock. "You SAW the unicorn? Touched it?" "Fed it," Sarah said, wondering why she had a momentary craving for a Mountain Dew. "But how--?" Ariella stopped, and looked at Robert. "My god, she really COULD be my sister." "The important thing right now is the unicorn," Sarah said. "Poor thing's dying, we've got to set it free." "That's why Robert and I escaped to America," Ariella said. "We were going to find a superhero team, perhaps your Defense Squad or CalForce or even Adjusted League Unimpeachable. But I saw you kidnapped and realized I could not leave you, or my people, to the hands of that unscrupulous bastard de Hevilode any longer. I had to return to set them free." "Looking for a superhero team, eh? Well, guess what?" Sarah asked ironically. "You just found one." "What? You?" Ariella asked. "Yep. I am a current, dues-paid member-in-good-standing of Team M.E.C.H.A." Ariella shrugged. "Never heard of it." "Yeah, well, we haven't been heard of too much outside of Missouri. But that'll change sooner or later. Listen, when I was captured I had a motorcycle. If I can get to that, and if my equipment is intact, I can put on a show that de Hevilode and his friends will not soon forget." "I think that--" Robert began, but just then there was a knock at the door. Sarah gasped. "It must be Sherise! Quick, hide!" Ariella and Robert dashed back into the passageway and pulled the wall shut behind them. Sarah went to the door. "Yes?" "It's Sherise, milady, back with your purse. Hurry, let me in before someone sees I took it." "Come on in, then." Sarah waited while Sherise undid the lock and pushed the door open cautiously. "Is milady alone? I thought I heard voices." "Oh, I was just--uh, talking to myself." "If milady says so." Sherise shrugged. "Here is your purse, milady. I hope no one saw me take it." "Oh, thank you, Sherise," Sarah said, hugging the older woman. "This is wonderful." Sherise smiled. "Thank you, Princess Ariella. I had better get back to my other duties now before anybody sees me." Sarah smiled and waved, and the door was shut and locked behind her. "All right, it's safe now." Ariella and Robert emerged from the secret door as Sarah pawed through her purse. She pulled out a small leg-holster and strapped it on beneath the dress, then slid the Gallant H-90 into it. "Ah, armed once more...that feels better. And now..." She pulled the communicator out and flipped it open, "...to call for some backup." "If that is a transmitting device of some sort, I would advise against it," Robert said. "What? Why?" Sarah asked, about to flip the power switch. "Not all in this castle is as primitive as it would seem," Robert replied. "There is an electronic communication facility in one of the towers, which monitors all outgoing transmissions. If an unauthorized message were sent, you can be certain it would be intercepted." "Ah. Hmmm..." Sarah thought. "Then I guess I'll just have to get us out of this on my own." "What is your plan?" Princess Ariella asked. "First, we're going to find my Cyclone motorcycle. Then..." There was another knock at the door. "Princess Ariella, it is time for dinner." Sarah looked over at Ariella. "I don't suppose I could convince you to trade places...Didn't think so." Sarah straightened her dress. "God, I hate this thing...I wish I had my own clothes back." She grimaced. "I'm coming, just a moment!" She hid her purse under the covers on the bed, then tucked the communicator into the strap of the holster on her leg. Ariella and Robert waved, then stepped back into the secret passage and were gone. Sarah resolved to learn how to open that thing, one of these days... Sarah went out the door, and Baron de Hevilode was there to escort her. Just you wait, she vowed. Before long, I'm bringing you down. WILL SARAH CONNER BRING BARON DE HEVILODE DOWN? WILL SHE FIND HER CYCLONE? WILL SHE BE ABLE TO EAT? WHAT ABOUT SCHOLARMAN? WHAT ABOUT THE UNICORN? WHAT ABOUT THE ARCHBISHOP? WHAT ABOUT THE COUNTRY? WHAT ABOUT...WHAT ABOUT...WHAT ABOUT... *THWAP!* THANKS. THIS STUFF WILL HOPEFULLY BE REVEALED, NEXT TIME ON S#U#P#E#R#G#U#Y ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 5 Feb 1994 19:44:30 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, #8 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS Part 8 By Robotech_Master, Unicorn Fanatic Technical Advisor: Lord Sabre Sarah didn't realize how hungry she was until she saw the banquet laid out on the table. When the smell hit her, she realized she hadn't eaten in at least half a day, and probably more. The majority of the dishes at the table were some type of meat--venison, beef, pork, poultry, and some kinds that Sarah could only guess at. There were fruit dishes, a few vegetables, and also pastries of various types. Just about the only bad thing at the table was the company. "Ah, Ariella, my dear," the Archbishop said. "It is good to see you again. I trust you have gotten over your...jet lag?" "I have, your Eminence," Sarah Conner replied, not sure of what else to say. "Excellent. Come, my dear, have a seat. It has been too long since your presence has graced this table." Dinner was somewhat awkward for Sarah...she had to watch the others carefully to see just what utensils they used and how they used them, and then try to use her own similar utensils in the same manner, all the while looking like she'd been doing this all her life. She hadn't known what to expect, but, thankfully, most of the implements seemed reasonably familiar. After finishing up, and managing somehow not to get too much food on the dress, Sarah Conner once more found herself back in "her" room, with the outer door locked firmly behind her. "Ariella?" she asked. "Robert?" She went over to the panel in the wall. "Crud. I KNOW this thing opens, but not how..." She stood back from the wall, and looked at it carefully. "Lessee...if *I* were building this thing, where would I put the release...? It always works in the movies..." Sarah experimented, moving candles and things on the mantlepiece, and feeling for loose bricks. She didn't find anything. "Dammit!" Sarah kicked the wall in frustration. It swung open. "Well, I'll be..." Sarah glanced into the gap in the wall. Darkness awaited her. "Hmm. Lucky I come prepared for these things..." She grabbed her purse from the bed and pulled the high-powered halogen flashlight out of it. Thus equipped, she entered the secret corridor, and the wall swung shut to latch behind her. Sarah Conner soon found her way to a narrow stairway that seemed to wind around the inside of the outer tower wall. She crept down and around it carefully, footsteps echoing off the stone walls. "I must be getting this dress FILTHY," Sarah thought wrily. "Wonder how I'm going to explain THAT to Sherise." At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor forked. "Wonder which way I should go..." Sarah muttered. "Ah!" An idea struck her. She brought out the comlink she'd taken with her and activated the tracking function. A low beeping began to emanate from the device, which became louder and softer as she swivelled it to point in various directions. The signal was stronger down one of the forks, so it was this way that she decided to go. As she walked slowly down the corridor, Sarah began to hear voices. She froze, but then realized that the voices were getting no louder, so they were probably not coming toward her. She crept forward cautiously, Gallant H-90 drawn and charged. Around the corner was a sort of a panel with two holes in it. Light was streaming through these holes in twin beams, revealing the dancing motes of dust stirred up by the air currents Sarah's motion was causing. Suspicious, Sarah came a little closer, leaning up against and beside the panels. Then she turned, carefully, looking through them, and stifled a gasp. She was looking directly into the Baron de Hevilode's study, apparently through a painting on the wall! de Hevilode was there himself, with the Archbishop. They were obviously in the middle of a conversation. Sarah watched, holding her breath. "--and with the Princess firmly ensconced on the throne, and myself as her regent, we shall be able to entice more and more corporations to make us, Terrania, their home," de Hevilode was saying. "Perhaps we can even pick up a DefenseCo franchise. After all, our taxes are far, far less than America's--and a goodly portion of that goes directly into the Church's coffers, let us not forget." "Indeed," replied the Archbishop. "But--I must admit I am somewhat worried by this blight on the land. What could be causing it? Already I have received reports of overzealous peasants searching out scapegoats and lynching them! And though, it is true, these scapegoats are heretics and heathens, the action itself is quite alarming. They could begin lynching priests next!" "I would not worry too much about that," de Hevilode laughed. "Just so long as they find somewhere to place the blame, and I would be very sure that it is not YOU." "How would you go about doing that?" the Archbishop asked. "Why, distribute aid, of course. Let the Church help provide for those who worship it. Make them see you as their savior, and they will turn their anger and fear elsewhere." "You bastard," Sarah muttered under her breath. "YOU'RE the one responsible for this...and I intend to make you pay for it." "Speaking of the Princess, how is she?" the Baron continued. "She has seemed somewhat...unwell...since her voyage to America." "Let us hope that it is simply the strain of the journey," the Archbishop replied. "If she were to be taken seriously ill, then where would we be?" "Let us fervently hope that does not happen," de Hevilode said. "It would be disastrous." The low beeping of the communication device reminded Sarah Conner that she had another task to perform. So, somewhat reluctantly, she left the eyeholes and continued down the corridor. The beeps began to get faster as Sarah continued walking. Sometimes she had to take corridors that led in directions perpendicular to the signal direction to get closer, but it continued getting stronger as she kept getting closer. At last, the beeping became almost continuous, and she knew she was very near. "Now...where? Ah, there." Sarah pushed up on a secret catch, and the wall in front of her hinged outward. As the door opened, she heard the sound of a boot scraping on the floor, and muffled curses. Someone was inside! Sarah brought up the Gallant, finger on the trigger, and stepped through. And met Ariella and Robert, whose crossbows were pointing right at her. Three breaths were expelled simultaneously, and three weapons were lowered. "Fancy meeting you here," Sarah remarked. "We were searching for your possessions," Robert explained, pointing to the Cyclone and storage boxes sitting in one corner of the room. "We had just found it when you arrived. Tell me, how did you find us so quickly?" Sarah held up the comlink. "Built-in tracking function. The motorcycle comsystem has a homing transponder." She walked over to the motorcycle, glanced over it appraisingly. "Hmm. They haven't messed with it, which is good...Ah! My clothes!" There were her blue jeans and sweatshirt, tossed in an untidy heap next to the motorcycle. "Great! I can finally get out of this damn dress! Ariella, will you help me here?" Ariella came over to where Sarah was standing. "Certainly." She glanced at Robert, and cleared her throat meaningfully. Robert understood immediately. "Er...Of course," he said, blushing. "I'll just go...er...keep a lookout." He hurriedly departed, and closed the door behind him. Ariella chuckled, and shook her head. "That man..." "You really care about him, don't you?" Sarah asked, as Ariella began to undo the fasteners in back. Ariella nodded. "Mm-hmm," she said. "I've never met another like him." Sarah chuckled. "I know what you mean. It's like that with me and Adam." "Adam?" Ariella asked. "Adam Douglas. My boyfriend and teammate. I like him, a lot. Though he gets on my nerves sometimes, I'm still glad he's around." Ariella helped Sarah remove the dress, and she tossed it aside in a heap. "Ah, good riddance!" Sarah slipped into her jeans and pulled the sweatshirt on. "Oh, it is GREAT to be out of that dress! You can tell Robert it's safe now." Robert re-entered the room as Sarah opened one of the Cyclone storage boxes and pulled out the CVR-3 armor components within. As she began assembling the armor all around her, Robert looked on curiously. "Are you a knight?" he asked. "Not precisely..." Sarah said, slapping the thigh units into place. "Though in this one case, you could probably call me a paladin." She wrapped the torso unit around her and latched it tightly, following it up with the arm plating and helmet, and slid the Gallant H-90 into the holster at her belt. Straddling the Cyclone, she said, "There. All set. Now let's go find us a unicorn." "Milady--er--Sarah," Robert said, "how do you expect to get around the castle with THAT? It is certainly anything but inconspicuous..." Sarah tripped the transformation switch, and the motorcycle reconfigured, melding itself to her armor. "Don't worry about that," she remarked, "it's portable." Ariella and Robert gawked for a minute or so. "How did you do that?" Ariella asked. "It's almost like MAGIC." "It's the magic of technology," Sarah explained, grinning. "Geez, I wish I hadn't left the rocket launcher back at HQ." "Rocket launcher?!" Robert asked. "By the unicorn!" Ariella laughed. "It is as you said!" she said to Sarah. "You really ARE a superhero!" "I just hope that power armor will be enough to save the day," Sarah replied. "Come on, let's go find the unicorn. I think I can recall where that secret dungeon was..." "Excellent!" Robert cocked his crossbow. "That unicorn shall be free ere this day is out!" Ariella grinned. "I love it when he talks like that." Meanwhile, elsewhere, Baron de Hevilode knocked at Ariella's door several times, and received no answer. He finally threw open the door, to discover that Ariella was not in her bed. "She's escaped!" he gasped. "Guards! Search the castle! She must be apprehended immediately!" He stormed off. "Damn her!" he muttered. "She'll ruin everything!" Well, he knew where she would try to go. To find and free the unicorn. But he would stop her. He knew a great deal about magic already, and once the unicorn's power was his, no one in the WORLD could stand before him! He would be invincible! IF that dratted girl did not succeed in freeing the creature first. Baron de Hevilode quickened his pace. He had to get there at once. WILL BARON DE HEVILODE BE THERE FIRST? WILL HE BE SUCCESSFUL IN STOPPING SARAH, ARIELLA, AND ROBERT FROM FREEING THE UNICORN? WILL TERRANIA GET A DEFENSECO FRANCHISE? WAS SCHOLARMAN ABLE TO RESCUE THE BURNING WITCH? SOME OF THIS, AND MAYBE SOMETHING ELSE TOO, COMING UP NEXT TIME, ONLY ON S > U > P > E | R < G < U < Y ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 9 Feb 1994 20:04:47 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, #9 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS Part 9 By Chris Meadows, Unicorn Devotee Annoying Distractingly Loud Dance Music by the Wells Residence Hall "Love Shack" Dance The threesome crept carefully along the ancient stone corridors of the castle, their footsteps echoing through the open spaces. The footsteps of one of them were a bit louder than those of the other two, since that one, Sarah Conner by name, was clad in VR-038-LT Cyclone power armor. The others only had on leather boots and peasant garb, and carried crossbows. "Are you certain you know where it is?" Robert asked, stepping ahead to glance around the corner. "Positive. Almost." Sarah looked thoughtful. "I only went down there once, but I have an impeccable sense of direction." "If it's anything like Ariella's--" Robert began, before Ariella silenced him with a glare. "Right. Lead on, then." "Relax, relax..." Sarah said. "Come on, I think the stairs are right around this corner..." They were. But there were also four guards standing in front of them. "CHAAAAARGE!!!" Sarah yelled, dashing forward. Ariella and Robert shrugged. There was really nothing else they could do. They followed Sarah's lead. Of course, it was Sarah who cleared the way. Her Cyclone-armor-powered body block flung two of the guards across the stairwell, and a quick knee to the gut of one and an uppercut to the jaw of the other quickly took care of the two remaining guards. "You don't waste any time," Robert said. "When you're the girlfriend of a paramilitary freak, you pick up a few things. Come on, there's no time to lose!" "Notime Toulouse? Where?" Robert asked, looking around. "Come ON!" Ariella grabbed his arm, and they took off down the stairs. There were guards waiting at the bottom. With crossbows. "Get down!" Sarah yelled, and Ariella and Robert hit the floor. Sarah continued running, and the crossbow bolts bounced off her composite armor. "You bastards!" Sarah yelled, ramming into the line of guards. She punched one out, kicked another one, threw a third into a wall... "These guys suck!" Sarah announced, slapping a fourth around a bit and then shoving him into another. "The fact that you are wearing hydraulically-enhanced armor might have something to do with that," Ariella suggested, firing her crossbow. It missed the goons entirely and pinged off of Sarah's Cyclone's back instead. "Oops!" Ariella gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth. "Don't worry, milady," Robert said, his own bolt finding its mark perfectly. "You can only improve." "And that's supposed to be...urgh...a comfort?" Ariella strained to cock the crossbow. Sarah finished with the crossbow-toting guards. "Come on! It's not much farther now!" They continued down the corridor. "Are you certain of this?" Robert asked for what seemed like the tenth time. "I've never been in this section of the castle before..." "Yes, I told you, I am--" "I knew you would come," the figure standing in the center of the corridor intoned darkly. "Although I admit I am somewhat surprised that there are three of you rather than one. Step into the light so that I can see you." Sarah, Ariella, and Robert exchanged worried glances. "It's de Hevilode!" Sarah gasped. "Get ready...we'll rush him." "I don't think that would be a good idea..." Ariella remarked. "Whatever we do, we'd better do it fast!" Robert said. de Hevilode gestured. "Well. If you do not intend to come into the light, I should, perhaps, bring the light to YOU!" He made a tossing motion, and a brilliant flare of light exploded just in front of the three heroes. Sarah's visor darkened automatically, but Ariella and Robert were momentarily blinded. "Ah, Princess Ariella, and your dear friend Robert, too! How delightful. But who is this third person I see?" Sarah shoved back her visor. "I'm exactly who I said I was, Baron. Sarah Conner, Princess Ariella's twin sister." "Impossible! It can't be!" This staggered Baron de Hevilode for a moment, and Sarah took advantage of his startlement to leap forward at him. But de Hevilode rapidly recovered his composure, and made a guesture. Sarah found herself slammed back against a wall by a powerful force. "You shall not defeat me!" de Hevilode ranted, beginning to move his hands and chant for another spell. Robert hefted his crossbow grimly, but Ariella pushed him aside. "This is not the time or place, Robert, my love. I'll handle this." She began to make gestures of her own, jaw set in an expression of grim determination that Sarah Conner recognized quite well. A similar expression came across her own face as she once more got to her feet. Status readouts said the armor was okay, nothing to worry about there. Almost unconsciously, Sarah raised the targeting sensor in the mecha's right shoulder, and it beeped as it registered a linkup with the Gallant's targeting computer through metal induction plates on the CVR/Cyclone's palm and the Gallant's handle. As de Hevilode and Ariella released their spells, Sarah Conner opened fire. Baron de Hevilode managed, barely, to deflect the Gallant energy beams, though it must have cost him a great deal of power to do it. Even so, his blast still cut through Ariella's defenses and slammed into her, knocking her back. "Ariella!" Robert gasped, catching her as she reeled backward. "I'm--all right," Ariella said, righting herself. She began to cast another spell. "You foul wizard...you shall pay dearly for what you have done!" "Do not be foolish, girl!" de Hevilode laughed. "Your powers are nothing, compared to my own. And shortly my own shall increase exponentially, for I have almost completed the magical equations necessary for the transfer of the unicorn's power!" "You talk too much," Sarah said, opening fire again. de Hevilode was again forced to divert some of his power to block her beams. "He's weakening!" Sarah announced triumphantly. "No! Damn you, you shall not stop me!" de Hevilode fired twin magical blasts at Sarah and Ariella. The blast slammed into Sarah's armor, knocking her back and cratering the front of the Cyclone. Ariella threw up enough of a defensive shield so that most of the force of the blast directed at her dissipated harmlessly. She was still thrown back, however. "Gah! Damn that mage!" Sarah muttered, shaking her head. "If I can just..." de Hevilode stepped forward, toward Ariella. Lightning crackled about his hands as he prepared his next spell. Sarah grinned. In moving forward, he had exposed the secret doorway to the unicorn's cell, behind him. But he was too busy gloating over his forthcoming victory to notice. And then Robert tried to shoot him with his crossbow, which bought Sarah all the time she needed. As a spell from de Hevilode grasped the bolt and stopped it in midair, Sarah Conner dived across the corridor into the secret passage. The unicorn looked up weakly at her, its white coat smudged with dirt and grime, its mane matted and dirty. Its eyes were dull, almost lifeless. It could not live in chains for much longer. "Don't worry, you beautiful thing..." Sarah breathed, "you won't have to." She reached down to the iron shackles and collar and used the power armor's enhanced strength to pry them apart, gently. As the last of the chains hit the straw-covered stones, the unicorn struggled to its feet and whinnied, somewhat feebly at first, but then louder, steadier. Sarah Conner held it, felt it growing stronger as it absorbed strength from its new freedom. "Come on!" Sarah said. "Let's go out there and show de Hevilode just what we think of him!" The unicorn nickered its agreement, and they dashed back out into the corridor, just in time to see de Hevilode's magic fling Robert back against the wall where he hung for just a second, then slumped like a rag doll, bleeding from the back of his head and his chest, which seemed to have a crossbow bolt sticking through it. "NOOOO!!!" Ariella screamed in pain and rage. She clenched her hands together and released a brilliant blast of energy that de Hevilode barely managed to deflect. "I think that I have won," de Hevilode gloated. "And *I* think NOT!" Sarah called out from behind him, where she stood with the unicorn. "What--?!" Baron de Hevilode turned around, just in time to see Sarah Conner bring up her Gallant H-90 and begin firing once more. And then the unicorn charged, eyes gleaming with hatred for the Baron, accumulated over the course of its captivity. Shortly thereafter, it was all over, and Sarah walked over to where Ariella was sitting against the wall, crying. Robert's head was in her lap. He wasn't moving. Sarah pulled her helmet off, shaking out her golden hair. "Oh, no! Is he--?" And then the unicorn stepped up. Even dirty, and tired, with blood on its horn and forehead, it still looked beautiful, and also wise. Stepping up to Robert, it inclined its head slightly, touching him on the forehead with its horn. The bolt began to wiggle, working its way out of Robert's body and leaving no sign that it had ever impaled him. As Robert groaned slightly and stirred, the unicorn fell to its knees, then collapsed beside him. "Are you--are you all right?" Ariella asked, almost not daring to hope. "Urgh...I...yes, I think I am." Robert tried to sit up, then decided that he liked the view better from where he was. "But what of the unicorn?" Sarah knelt by the unicorn. "I think she's okay," she reported. "Just exhausted, and malnourished." "It's a female?" Robert asked. "Yes, can't you tell?" Sarah asked. Robert sighed. "We can't just stay here," Ariella said, getting up and helping a somewhat reluctant Robert to his feet. "The guards will be coming." "Right. We've got to get the unicorn somewhere safe," Sarah said. "But where?" "I know a place," Robert said, rubbing the back of his head. "But I hesitate to suggest it--there might be some difficulties..." "Just show us where," Ariella replied. And so it was that a few minutes later, three peasants led a very dirty horse with a large burlap bag over its head out of the castle. Surprisingly enough, the unicorn hadn't objected to the bag. Perhaps it had been too tired, or else it recognized the need for a disguise. Sarah Conner had left the Cyclone and armor behind, hidden in an unused storeroom, and had donned a spare set of peasant garb that Ariella had dug up somewhere. As they emerged from the castle, Sarah remarked on how gray and desolate the land was. "Look at this place. Nothing's growing. I wonder why I didn't notice this before?" "It is probable that the Author didn't have it in mind when he was writing your previous scenes," Robert suggested. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's all so...dead." "Not all of it. Look!" Ariella pointed down, and Sarah gasped in surprise. Everywhere the unicorn had stepped, there was a spot of green, where grass was beginning to spring up once more. Even as they stopped to watch, the spots were expanding, and more grass was springing up where they were currently standing. "Wow..." Sarah said. "It's the unicorn!" Robert realized. "She really IS magical!" "Her mere presence must be returning the fertility to the land!" Ariella gasped. "Well, I hate to say it," Sarah pointed down, "but the grass is growing underneath our feet. We'd better get a move on." There was a collective groan, and even the unicorn whinnied abruptly. They followed the path down toward the village, with greenness and fertility following them as they went. "This way." Robert took them off the main path and between two trees, down a gentle slope, and around a hill. "It's not far now," he said, noticing the unicorn beginning to falter. "Just a little ways more." They soon came to a small hut, little more than a shack, built in the native style. Robert held up his hand for them to stop, then walked softly up to the door and knocked. "Who is it?" a gruff voice asked from inside. "It's Robert, mother," Robert said. The door was flung open. "Robert!" the matronly figure inside called. "Where have you been?! You never call, you never write..." "I'm sorry, mother," Robert sighed. "I've been a bit busy--" "Too busy for your own mother?!" She threw up her arms. "Saints above, what have I done to deserve this child. I feed him, I raise him, I manage to pull some strings and get him a place in the local Guild, and how does he repay me?" She sniffed. "I never hear from him again, THAT'S how he repays me." "Mother--" Robert said. "I don't ask for MUCH, just a note every now and then, a little help with the garden, but can he do this, NOOOO, he has to go off and run around with his friends, never a THOUGHT for his dear old mother. I ought to--" "Mother, will you please LISTEN?" Robert asked, managing to get a word in. "Listen? Eh? Oh, of COURSE I'll listen. I'm all ears! Go on, tell me just why it is that you should come around and disturb your dear old mother after all this time." Robert gestured to the others to come forward. "Mother, may I present my beloved, Her Highness the Princess Ariella, Daughter of Conner, heir to the throne of Terrania. And her twin sister, the lady Sarah Conner." "Och, get out of here," Robert's mother said. "You can't be ser--" She slowed and stopped as Ariella and Sarah pushed back their hoods. "By the unicorn, they really DO resemble Princess Ariella." "Speaking of the unicorn," Sarah announced, removing the burlap bag from the unicorn's head. In sharp contrast to the unkempt state of its coat, its horn glittered in the sunlight. Robert's mother fainted. "I knew you'd understand, mother," Robert said a few minutes later, having revived her and explained the current situation to her during the segueway. "I always said that Baron de Hevilode was up to something," Robert's mother announced, nodding her head to emphasize her point. "Holding such a lovely creature prisoner...death is too good for him!" "Well, it's a bit too late for that, since death is what he has. Anyway, she's free now," Sarah said. "But she's too weak to go anywhere. I think we're going to have to take care of her for a while." Ariella nodded, leaning against the unicorn, who was now lying on the ground behind the hut, a patch of green gradually spreading out all around it. "We'll nurse her back to health." "Well, I'll help you, and take great pride in it," Robert's mother said. "I only wish I'd known sooner..." "Thanks, mother," Robert said gratefully. "I knew we could count on you." WHAT WILL HAPPEN NOW? IS THE STORY WINDING DOWN? WHAT WILL THE ARCHBISHOP DO WHEN HE DISCOVERS DE HEVILODE IS DEAD AND SARAH/ARIELLA MISSING? WILL TERRANIA GET A DEFCO FRANCHISE? SOME OF THIS, AND MAYBE A FEW WORDS FROM OUR SPONSOR, COMING UP ENTIRELY TOO SOON, ONLY ON S + U + P + E + R + G + U + Y ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 11 Feb 1994 09:11:00 EDT Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: "On a Pale M00se riding...." Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns #10 Yves looked up at the woman even as the flames were beginning to rise. She was beautiful -- too beautiful. That was what happened to him. She had bewitched him the same way she had bewitched the lands, rendering them barren and cold. The fields were dead -- the last green places dying. It was as though there were a real Unicorn, and Autumn had slain it with her Satanic power. "Die," he muttered. "Die, you hateful scourge." "Yves!" she shouted. "Please!" "Die," he yelled back at her, and the townfolk screamed. "In the name of God, I say *die!*" There was a sudden explosion of lightning, and a wash of rain. The Wood hissed, but kept trying to burn -- but then an explosion of icy cold smoke dropped over it, leaving it coated in white, and dead. The villagers screamed, the Priest began to mumble prayer. A man with black hair and a black beard, dressed in a black tunic and leggings, strode into view. In the rain and the darkness, his face seemed to leap from the darkness. His eyes were hard. "Do you have anything else to say in the name of God," the man asked coldly. "I'll bet He'd be interested to hear it. I know I am." ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS PART TEN Starring Scholarman Written by Eric, Lord Sabre Coffee by Chock Full O' Nuts Scholarman looked over the cowering villagers. He had let the minor cloudburst die out -- weather magic being powerful in the extreme. He was still weak from Translocating here to Terrania -- he didn't need any other problems. Fortunately, the Minor Cantrip of CO2 Fire Extinguisher Spirits had put out the flames and hopefully put the fear of God into them. "Now then," he said. "Now that I have your attention, perhaps you'd like to explain to me just what exactly is going on?" "Who are you to speak thus," their priest shouted. He was dressed all in black, and collared -- though Scholarman couldn't imagine he was actually Catholic. Perhaps the Terrania church was similar to the Anglicans or the Russian Orthodox -- all the trappings of Catholicism, without the Vatican to mess things up for them. "I'm called Scholarman -- and you could say I'm Freelance help. I'm also the man who put that fire out, called that storm, and I'm the man who's considering turning you all into Sugar Free Jello with peach slices. So answer the question." "She's a witch!" screamed one of the Villagers, who didn't look a thing like Eric Idle. "She's rendered the land barren!" another screamed. "She must die!" Scholarman glanced up at the naked woman. She was bleeding from several wounds, whimpering and struggling with her bonds. "Yeah," Scholarman said. "I can sure see how you'd consider her a threat." "Look we subdued this Witch, but her Curse lives! She will destroy us all if we don't burn her!" screamed the first Villager. "Plus it's good fun," another said. "Yves," the condemned woman whimpered, looking at the first villager. There are many sorts of whimper, actually, and most of them fall into general categories. For example, there is the "Oh My Mother Just Doesn't Understand" whimper, which is used when a child whimpers about anything from a baseball glove to an elopement. There is the "You'll Be Sorry When I'm Dead," whimper, which applies not only to children but almost everyone at different times of his life. There's the "I Don't Understand" whimper, which can be heard when most college students walk out of their first Calculus class. But about them all -- as specific as these are general, and far more painful -- there is a whimper that speaks to the compassionate heart more painfully than the rest. It is a pathetic thing, capable of inspiring pity even as it engenders rage. It is the whimper of a soul that has opened itself utterly to a Soul Mate -- placing itself utterly in the trust of that person, only to have their trust ripped out, pureed, spread on toast, consumed before one's very eyes, and vomited into the toilet, where it is flushed down the drain. It is not angry, or even sad. It is utterly disheartened, as the very foundations of their world crumble. It is that sort of whimper that the witch whimpered when she said the name of the chief villager. And that whimper grabbed the sentimental part of Scholarman (a part he thought he had managed to burn out of himself with Scotch) and throttled it into a white hot rage. Scholarman climbed up to where the woman was tied to her stake, and with a thought seared her bonds away, catching her. He lifted her up, balanced her in his arms, and carried her down. The Villagers were cowed -- fear of Scholarman keeping them back. He set the woman down, and removed his black cloak, covering her with it. He then turned back to the Village. "This girl is terrified," he said coldly. "You're killing her because she's different. Because she doesn't walk the walk you do. This is worse than heinous -- this is *barbaric!* If anyone here deserves to die, it's you horrid murderers." The Priest's eyes grew wide. "Oh, I understand now," he said, advancing. "You -- with your American accent and your mewling -- I thought you an agent of Satan, but I didn't fully understand! But now -- your words and deceptions have revealed all! I know you now! I know who and what you are, and I laugh in your face! You are more than possessed -- more than demonic! I see your true face -- YOU ARE A LIBERAL!!!!!" Scholarman, ready to smite the Priest back, was startled. "What?" he asked. "Where did you hear that term?" "The Rush Limbaugh program on the Voice of America," one of the farmers piped up. "We get it on the Shortwave radio." "Die, Clinton Democrat! *DIE!!!*" Scholarman leapt back, summoning a shield to deflect the villagers away from both the woman, who was sitting up now, and himself. They threw pitchforks at him, which he knocked away with Kinetic Power. Screaming, they ran for him, but Scholarman summoned a wall of fire that drove them back. They screamed religious and conservative dogma at him, badly misquoting both. "We must flee," the Witch said to him. "They will overpower your defenses!" "I could always blow the village up," Scholarman snapped back, sending a charge of lightning into the threshers and scythes the farmers were holding. "That will bring a religious wrath down upon all the Witches of this land," she called, ducking aside as a rock was hurled at her. "They will suffer punishments untold for it." "All right -- then where do we go?" "Move them back, so we might flee!" Scholarman summoned up a blast of Saint Elmo's Fire which drive the Villagers back, and the two turned and ran. He hadn't seen any crossbows among them. Indeed -- he hadn't seen bows or even spears or the like. And he assumed that enraged or not, they wouldn't want to run after a known Witch and an assumed Liberal. You see, Scholarman had been pretty observant during this little jaunt. He had noticed that even though it was the Twentieth Century, these people seemed to be rooted somewhere between the High Middle Ages and the Renaissance. And he knew that if he kept both the Witch and himself safe from that primitive level of technology, they could get away. So when the farmer shot him in the back with the thirty ought six, it came as something of a surprise. * * * * * * Autumn squeezed more bloody water out of the rag, and swabbed away more of the blood. Some herbs mixed together had kept her savior unconscious while she had cut out the bullet. Now she had to see about healing the shoulder. The wound was clean now. She was sure of that. Next came something more difficult. She opened the chest near her, and drew out the bolt of silk. It had been expensive, and hard to obtain, but it had been worth it -- it kept the relics pure. She unwrapped the cloth, and lifted out the Sacred Athane. The knife's edge gleamed in the firelight. Autumn closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. She wove a circle with the Athane, and closed it over herself and the man. She breathed in again, breathing the breath of the Goddess into herself. Underneath her, she could feel the illness in the land fade for a moment, as the Goddess awoke and rose up through her. It reached the apex of the cone of power above, and Autumn drew down the moon to greet it. The power of the Goddess filled her, causing the aches from her own beatings and wounds to fade. She opened her eyes, and looked down at the man. He was not unattractive, she noticed for the first time. His injury was not serious, now that the bullet had been drawn out. She breathed and invoked the Goddess into the Athane, and passed it over the injury. She traced the sign of the Pentacle over the wound, and touched the injury with the blade. Shuddering with the intensity of it, she allowed herself to become nothing more than a vessel for the Goddess, her legs melding spiritually with the ground beneath her. Above, the full moon echoed the power, filling her again. She could feel it now... the strength rising from the Earth, into her legs, up her stomach, through her veins into her heart, out to her arm, her fingers, into the knife, the blade, the injury, and the Man. Connected, she drew the Athane over the wound, the silver edge passing over blood and raw, ripped flesh and leaving pure, unbroken skin. Finally, even the blood was completely gone, the blade pure. Autumn cleansed the blade with bright power, and grounded it and herself. She made the sign of the Pentacle again, closing the Circle and the Ritual. "Blessed Be," she whispered, and allowed the Goddess to again slumber. She then slumped back, the aches and pains of her own body again flooding her. "You did that well," the man said, raiding himself. Autumn's eyes snapped open. "How long have you been awake," she asked. "I sort of came awake as you were Drawing Down the Moon," he said. "I am honored." "I... I'm pleased it was so successful. Healing is the Rite I've come the closest to mastering." "Your call for help was pretty good," the Man said, sitting up and stretching. "Mmm...stiff but whole. Very good work." "Thank you." "Man -- I have to be the only man on Earth who can appear in the middle of a Tolkien epic, rescue a Witch, and then be shot in the back by a hunting rifle fired by a bunch of Dittoheads." He shook his head. "Go figure." "I... thank you," Autumn said. She felt tears rising, but she knew what she must do. "You... you saved my life." She looked up into his eyes. "Whatever you ask of me, I will give." She was sure her meaning was clear. The man looked down. "What's your name," he asked. "Autumn of River-- Autumn of no where, I suppose." "Well, Autumn. I'm called Scholarman. And I don't get the feeling you're much in the mood to make good on that offer." Autumn looked down. "I... am yours." Scholarman touched her chin with his fingers, lifting her face to his, and looking into her eyes. His eyes were brown, she noted, with deep red starbursts around each pupil. "What you are," he said mildly, "is a beautiful young woman who has had her trust and heart broken today. I won't ask you to do either again, for any reason." Autumn started to cry, and clutched Scholarman. He held her, rocking, until the pain gave way, a little. "Better?" he asked. She nodded, sniffing. "Great." He got up, and helped her to her feet. "You know," he said. "I could swear that as I was falling, having been shot, that you were naked and we were in the open thirty yards outside the village. Now you're wearing a black wool skirt and blouse, and we're indoors in a cabin with a fire that you obviously feel comfortable it. What gives?" "Well, as you fell, you threw a spell behind you that set of an explosion. I don't think you hurt anyone, but it scattered the villagers enough so I could drag you away. I managed to get you into what's left of the woods, and then made my way here." She rose. "This cabin is where my Coven would meet, before they moved on. I was young and... and Yves was here, so I stayed behind. But I continued to use this cabin for Craftwork and to honor the Goddess. I kept most of my craft tools here, so they have not been profaned. I never even brought Yves here, so we should be safe." Scholarman nodded. "It sounds like you've been here for a while. So why did they decide now was a good time to burn you?" She looked down. "There have been rumors that I was a witch for years -- since I healed one of the midwife's children of his Jaundice. I had then taken over as Midwife for the Village, which of course was suspect in itself." "Oh, of course." Scholarman said sarcastically, which made Autumn smile a little. "Well, a plague came upon the land. The crops began to fail. The land became barren. The people were restless, as the sickness fell upon the land. I tried to help it, but I know little of the Ways of plants. "They grew afraid. They thought God was punishing them for their sins -- but no man likes to blame himself. So they looked for someone to blame." She swallowed, tears rising. "I had told Yves what I was a long time before. We had discussed marriage, and I trusted him. Trusted him. But as he watched his fields die, he began to feel our love was the sin that was killing the land. And then... he began to blame me. He told me to confess to the Priest -- to be shriven and be reborn in the Church. But I knew the Goddess herself was Ill -- that she was not the cause but a victim. I told him so. He flew into a rage -- he accused me of all the old crimes. Consorting with the Devil, bestiality, seducing children. Eating children. He flew from the house and I sat and cried. But I never thought... never... that he would...." "I understand," Scholarman said. Back in America, he knew a few Witches - - his own cousin chief among them. His cousin had been cast out by her husband, humiliated, divorced, and all but shunned by his Uncle and Aunt -- both the only Catholics among the Burnses -- for months before they accepted her. He hadn't been able to forgive his Uncle and Aunt that, though they had reconciled. "So what will you do now?" he asked. "I... I shall wait for the plague to end, if it does. And then I shall make a Call. Eventually, some means of transport shall come, and I shall leave this place. Perhaps I shall leave Terrania altogether. "But why are *you* here?" she asked, realizing she knew little of her savior. "And what sort of name is Scholarman?" "Well, I'm sort of a superhero type, over in America. They call me Scholarman because... um... well, I guess because `Eric' doesn't strike fear into the hearts of man. Anyway, this woman name of Ariella--" "The Princess?" "That's the one -- she showed up, asking me for help in getting here. She said there was a woman who resembled her who had been kidnapped by some Archbishop and a Baron de Hevilode." Autumn's face furrowed at the name of the Baron. "He is not a kind man to the Witches," she said. "It is whispered that he himself practices magic, of a tradition opposed to ours. He has slain four of my kind, it is said -- but not publicly. Not publicly. Whether the Archbishop and the church are his pawns or his partners I could not say." Scholarman nodded. "Well, can you say how to get to his castle?" "Of course. I shall give you a map. But -- before you go?" "Yes?" "I do not mean to pry, but despite your tremendous power and great knowledge... you are new to this, are you not?" Scholarman looked slightly sheepish. "Well, yeah," he said. "How did you know?" "Most Magi of power weave spells about them for defense and attack during times of peace, which they may call upon in an emergency. You worked all of your power manually during the attack. One of your power should have had nothing to fear from them, and a bullet should not have laid you low." "Ah. I see. Well, to be honest, my magic was sort of bestowed on me, both power and knowledge." "So you lack skill and experience with it. I understand. You must seek a teacher if you are to survive -- and I sense dark times ahead for magi." "Right." * * * * * * Scholarman made his way to the castle. He wasn't sure how well Ariella and Robert had done in his absence -- she was a good kid, but newer to magic than Scholarman was in most ways -- and Robert was out of his league. He thought about what Autumn had said, though. Perhaps he should take the offensive when he got there -- not wait to get attacked. He would have to think about it. He caught a whiff of spring air, and smiled. The land was pretty bleak, but it looked like spring was coming anyhow -- if a little late. The idea that the land was sick was kind of silly -- superstition. He caught a glimpse of white, ahead -- like a flash. But he disregarded it as a trick of the moon. The moon. So important to the Wiccans. Autumn. He shook his head. He reminded himself forcefully that he was cynical when it came to romance, and besides, Autumn would forget him soon enough -- as she got over the horror of her experience, she'd be happy Scholarman hadn't taken advantage of her. WILL SCHOLARMAN FORGET AUTUMN? WILL AUTUMN FORGET SCHOLARMAN? WILL SCHOLARMAN BE ABLE TO DEFEAT THE EVIL BARON DE HEVILODE AND SAVE SARAH FROM A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH? WAIT A SECOND... DIDN'T ARIELLA, SARAH AND ROBERT DEFEAT THE BARON IN THE LAST POST? SO WHAT ACTUALLY IS SCHOLARMAN GOING TO DO NOW? The answers are there for the taking in The Care and Feeding of Unicorns Part Eleven, only here on SUPERGUY!!!!! ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 11 Mar 1994 13:43:28 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns, #11 ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS Part 11 By Chris Meadows, Unicorn Devotee Special Thanks to Lord Sabre for all his help and the use of his character It was morning in Terrania, with the sunlight showing through the tips of the trees in the nearby forest. Trees which, like the grass in the field behind Robert's mother's house, were newly revitalized and growing again, thanks to the presence of the unicorn. Sarah Conner was seated on the grassy field behind the hut, messing with a small cassette player she'd gotten out of her purse. Sarah slid a cassette into the player and started it. The strains of INXS's "Original Sin" emanated from the speaker, and she began her aerobic routine, starting with some knee bends and lower body toning exercises. "What are you doing?" Sarah looked up to see Ariella observing her movements curiously from a few yards away. She stopped the tape and stood up. "Aerobics." "What is that?" "Here, come on, I'll show you." Sarah gestured for her to come closer and she did, a bit hesitantly. "But what exactly IS it?" Ariella asked. "Aerobics is a kind of exercise, dancing. It builds muscle tone and flexibility, and helps keep you in shape." "I see--I think," Ariella faltered. "Trust me, it's easy." Sarah grinned. "I taught a beginner-level course at the 'Y' last year." "At the what?" "We'll start out with some stretches, like so, to loosen up. Come on, do like I'm doing now." Sarah Conner demonstrated the three basic stretching positions, and Ariella hesitantly followed suit with matching movements. "Good. Now, I'm going to show you some motions, and how to do them to music..." She started the INXS tape again. After an hour of aerobic exercise, the sisters were sufficiently hot and sweaty that they stripped to their underthings and went wading in the stream that ran through Robert's mother's property. The cool, unpolluted water felt good against Sarah's skin, and they swam and splashed around for quite a while. Then Sarah felt herself being watched. She and Ariella looked up. "Huh?" ">Nicker!<" It was the unicorn, peering curiously down at them from the bank. "Hey, you!" Sarah giggled. "She looks as though she could use a bath, don't you think?" Ariella said to Sarah. "Y'know, I think you're right. Hey, get in here, you!" The unicorn started backing off, an "oh no, not me!" look in its eyes, but Sarah climbed up on the bank and managed to coax it down into the water. Using a bar of soap Sarah'd had in her purse and some fronds from the riverbank, Sarah and Ariella lathered up and scrubbed the unicorn's coat, rinsing it free of the accumulated dirt and grime from weeks of captivity. For its part, the unicorn accepted these ministrations gracefully--and then it dashed its muzzle through the water and splashed Sarah in the face when she wasn't looking. Sarah went down, gasping and sputtering. "Hey!" she said when she was able to speak. "Cut that out!" She splashed the unicorn back, but missed and hit Ariella instead. "Oooh! You...!" Before long, they were in the middle of a free-for-all, and soon were all wet and giggling frenetically. "Ahem." The girls looked up. It was Robert. "Eek!" they screamed, being mostly nude, and hid behind the unicorn. "It's time for breakfast," Robert said, smirking. "You--!" Sarah muttered, throwing a rock in his direction. Robert sidestepped it deftly, grinned, and dashed off toward the house. After breakfast, Ariella led Sarah out through the fields into a newly-verdant forest dell. "You've showed me how to do aerobics," she said. "It was great fun. In return, I'm going to show you how to do some magic, which is also fun and somewhat useful at the same time." "But doesn't magic require a lot of study?" Sarah asked. "To become proficient, it does, yes, but you can learn the basics quite easily. Now, have a seat." Sarah and Ariella sat down crosslegged, facing each other, and Ari continued. "Now, there are many schools of thought regarding magic, some made up entirely of mystical mumbo-jumbo, others with the more sensible philosophy of magic as simply another kind of energy, like sunlight or wind--or a heartbeat, for that matter--waiting to be tapped. I think you can guess which school of thought I belong to." Sarah nodded. "Sounds right to me." "To get at this magic within you, all you have to do is concentrate. Feel the power, then bring it up and shape it into the result you're looking for." "Sounds easy," Sarah commented. "It is, once you know how to do it," Ariella said. "But only for very easy spells. The hard part is learning to focus and direct the energy for greater spells." "How do you do that?" Sarah wondered. "Through the use of formulae," Ariella said. "These formulae are often referred to as 'spells,' even though the term might better be applied to the magical effects the formulae produce." "You've really studied up on this magic thing, haven't you?" Sarah asked. "The more I learn, the more I want to know," Ariella replied. "And as I learn more, I also learn that I haven't learned nearly as much about it as I want to." "Cool! Okay, so what do I have to do?" "Do you know how to meditate?" Ariella asked. Sarah considered. "Hmm...well, I do know some relaxation exercises..." "That might suffice. I'd like you to relax and try to look inward, focus your energy. As if you were about to push something with the whole of your being, only spiritually." "Um...okay, I'll try." Sarah Conner began to breathe slowly and deeply, letting her muscles relax. Funny...she felt something different this time from all the other times she'd done this exercise, something she couldn't quite quantify. It was as if Ariella's instructions were beginning to awaken something deep inside of her. "You should start to feel something," Ariella said. "I...I think I am," Sarah said. "Good. Now, focus what you are feeling. Imagine the magical forces inside you, waiting to be tapped." "I'm trying..." Sarah concentrated. She could ALMOST feel it...but not quite. She lost it. "Argh! I almost had it..." She opened her eyes. Ariella considered this. "Hmm..." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small crystal on a golden chain. "Sometimes it helps to have something to focus your energies through. I never use this anymore, now that I've mastered the basics." Sarah Conner accepted the pendant. "This looks just like one of those new-age crystals," she remarked. "New-age? Focuses such as this have been around for a very long time," Ariella said, puzzled. "Never mind. It would take too long to explain," Sarah said. "So if I focus my energies through this, it should make it easier for me?" "To a certain point, yes," Ariella said. "It will serve as a learning aid, to help you master the concentration necessary for magic. But the power you can focus through it has its limits. Once you're ready to go beyond those limits, you'll no longer need the crystal." "I understand...it's like training wheels on a bicycle." Seeing Ariella's blank look, she quickly explained the concept. "Yes...I believe that is an apt analogy," Ariella said. "See if you can do it now." "All right." Sarah fastened the pendant around her neck. "I--" And then their solitude was interrupted as Robert dashed into the clearing, crossbow in hand. "We must away, immediately!" Robert announced. "The Archbishop's men are searching the land for you! They've found de Hevilode's body and are searching for someplace to lay the blame!" "And they would place it on me?" Ariella asked. "I do believe they would place it on anybody," Robert said. "And there's always the matter of the two of us to resolve, and your twin sister, and the unicorn...I do believe that it would be prudent for us to make our getaway as hastily as possible." "What about the unicorn?" Sarah asked. "She seems to have recovered sufficiently to survive on her own by now," Robert said. "We have to go!" "All right, let's move it then." Sarah got up, pulled out her Gallant. "Let's get out of here." "Not so fast!" a voice called out. Sarah looked up, gasped. They were surrounded on all sides by men-at-arms. Some held crossbows or shortbows, others pikes and swords. Sarah and Ariella looked at each other. Robert swore. There was nothing they could do. They dropped their weapons. They were taken back to the castle under armed guard, and marched into the throne room where the Archbishop awaited. "Ah, Princess Ariella. It is good to see you again." He paused. "There are two of you?!" "It's rather hard to explain, Your Eminence," Sarah Conner said. "You see, I'm her long lost twin sister, and--" But the Archbishop had moved on to Robert. He peered at Robert, Sarah noticed, as if Robert were some sort of lower lifeform that had dared to stand up on two legs and walk about in decent human society. "Ah. I see that you are once again with Her Highness." His Eminence shook his head. "I simply cannot countenance such a relationship to continue." "I'm sorry you feel that way, Your Eminence," Robert replied with a smirk. "We had so hoped you'd perform the marraige ceremony..." The Archbishop turned to Ariella and Sarah, addressing both of them rather than attempting to distinguish between them. "And you, Princess Ariella. You know how I feel about your studies of these arcane pagan rituals. It does not become a princess to dabble in Satanism, and you are placing your immortal soul in danger with this foolishness." "That is simply not true!" Ariella protested vehemently. "I am every bit as Christian as you are, and my magic does not come from Satan, Hell (TM), or any kind of evil! It come from inside me, and from the world around me!" The Archbishop shook his head sadly. "Satan has deluded you, my child. I can see that it will require lengthy counseling to break you from his spell. As for that wretch--" he pointed to Robert "--confine him in the dungeon!" "No!" Ariella cried. "I will not permit you to imprison the man I love!" Sarah grasped the crystal pendant and attempted to concentrate. She wasn't sure what she could do, or even if she could do anything at all, but it was worth a shot. Robert looked around at the advancing guards and tried to figure the odds of grabbing a sword from one of them and making a fight of it. It was a chancy proposition, but then again, he definitely did NOT want to be separated from Princess Ariella, especially if such separation meant being thrown into a dungeon. The guards moved in, brandishing their weapons menacingly... And then one of the walls exploded inward, bricks flying everywhere but miraculously avoiding seriously injuring anybody. Instead of the giant Kool-Aid pitcher that Sarah had briefly expected, a man walked through, brushing powdered stone and mortar off his sleeves. He looked up, noticed the glinting weapons, and with a wave of his hand transformed them all into their Nerf equivalents. "Hello," Scholarman said. "Sorry I'm late. Have I missed anything important?" HAS SCHOLARMAN MISSED ANYTHING IMPORTANT? WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? IS THIS STORY ACTUALLY GOING TO GO TO *TWELVE* PARTS?! I MEAN, WHAT'S LEFT TO SAY? WILL SARAH CONNER LEARN MAGIC? WHAT WILL ADAM DOUGLAS'S REACTION TO THIS BE? WILL THIS STORYLINE EVER DRAG TO A CLOSE? ALL THIS, AND MAYBE SOME OTHER STUFF, TOO. YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND IT. Superguy. It's not just a list, it's a way of life. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 29 Mar 1994 12:19:21 -0600 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: SG: On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns #12: FINALE ON THE CARE AND FEEDING OF UNICORNS Part 12 (CONCLUSION) By Chris Meadows, Running Out of Taglines This *IS* the last one, really, I PROMISE! Starring: Sarah Conner, Ariella Conner, Robert, Scholarman, the Archbishop, and about a dozen Men-at-Arms Guest-Starring: Team M.E.C.H.A. Extra-Special Guest Star: Superuser Written under the influence of Hamm's Light beer (It was all that was in the house! Really! I wouldn't drink the stuff otherwise!) The Archbishop was at a loss. "What in Heaven's name--!" "Ah, yes. Heaven's name." Scholarman advanced upon the Archbishop. Sarah noticed that Scholarman towered over the Archbishop by several inches. "More crimes have been committed in Heaven's name than in any other cause on the face of this planet," he said bitterly. "Including the one which you're planning." "But I--you--that is--" The Archbishop took several small steps backward as Scholarman got right up in front of him. "You fool," Scholarman continued. "You use your religion as a shield behind which to do what you please. Including separating these two." He gestured to Robert and Ariella, who were standing protectively close together. "I--that's not true!" the Archbishop sputtered, regaining some of his composure. "I'm only trying to do what's best for Terrania. It is best for our country that we have a ruler on the throne, and that ruler should be Princess Ariella. And it is not suitable for one of her station to be married to a THIEF!" He spat the word out as if it were something unseemly. "She could do much worse than a thief," Scholarman said. "How about a murderer and a traitor such as Baron de Hevilode?" "Murderer? Traitor? What are you talking about?" "Are you aware that unicorns still exist?" Scholarman asked. "Nonsense. They're a myth!" the Archbishop protested. "They're not real, they never were!" "De Hevilode didn't feel that way," Scholarman said ironically. "Perhaps that's why he captured one and kept it in chains while trying to determine a way to sacrifice it and make its magic his own. If it were not for these three, it would be dead now, and the blight that had been on the land would be there forever. Or at least for a very, very, VERY long time. Fortunately for you, AND for this country, the unicorn is free once more, and its magic once again permeating through the countryside, restoring the land to its former verdancy." "But--but--" the Archbishop sputtered. "Magic is evil, a tool used by Satan to corrupt the unsuspecting!" "God has been used as justification for more evil than any other cause in creation," Scholarman said. "The Crusades, the Inquisitions...It still doesn't change the fact that evil is evil, no matter in whose name it is done. "Magic is no more good or evil than electricity, or radio waves, or even crossbows or submachine guns. It's just another physical force, which some people have the power to manipulate. Some can manipulate it more than others, just as some people can fire crossbows while others can fire nuclear missiles. It's all a matter of degree." "But Radian nearly destroyed the world!" the Archbishop protested. "So have nuclear missiles. So have other supervillains having nothing whatsoever to do with magic. Magic is a tool, for good or evil. What matters is how you use it." "It--it can't be! Magic is Satan's, it MUST be!" the Archbishop said, clearly shaken. "If magic is evil, then so is your entire country," Scholarman said quietly. "Look around you, man! Can you deny that your nation has been green and verdant for centuries while others have suffered through drought and blight? Can you deny that the blight which was on the land began when the unicorn was taken and is lifted now that the unicorn is free once more? Can even YOU deny the benevolence of the unicorn's magic?" He half-turned, then turned back. "And can you deny that Conner's bloodline has been strong in magic for centuries? Even back in the days when Terrania was first founded, with the blessing of the Pope himself!" "What?!" Scholarman produced a musty old tome from somewhere. "I did some research in the Terrania Royal Library." He opened it to where the ribbon from the spine had been inserted as a bookmark. "Look right here." The Archbishop pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed half-glasses and perched them on his nose. "But--but--" Sarah, Ariella, and Robert exchanged glances, and the men-at-arms just stood there, looking rather confused, holding their Nerf swords, battleaxes, pikes, and crossbows at the ready. The Archbishop looked up from the book. "He was using me all this time," he slowly said. "Baron de Hevilode was manipulating me by playing on my wishes for prosperity." "And personal wealth," Ariella pointed out. "What might have happened if he hadn't been stopped?" Robert wondered. "He might have ended up in control of Terrania." "He might have ended up in control of the PLANET," Sarah Conner corrected. "If he had succeeded in capturing the unicorn's magic..." She shuddered. "It was fated to happen," Scholarman said. "Fortunately, there is one to whom Fate does not apply." The Archbishop found a bench and sat down. "This is truly staggering! What am I to do now, then?" "Are there no other Conners who would be in line for the throne?" Sarah asked. "Other than Ariella--and yourself, if you truly are her twin sister--there are none that I am aware of." "Then appoint a regent," Scholarman said. "An honest regent, this time. Let him rule the country fairly until such time as Ariella feels ready to assume the throne. Let her marry Robert, for if not for his help, your country would be in ruins. Do what you can to stop the persecution of non-Christians in this land; the Dark Ages ended a long, long time ago. If you can do that, then I would say that you have amply fulfilled your obligations to your office and your land." "I--I understand. I'll do what I can." He gestured to the men-at-arms. "You are dismissed." "Yessir!" The leader saluted with his Nerf sword, then led the remainder of the troops out of the room, leaving Sarah, Ariella, Robert, and Scholarman alone with the Archbishop. For a few moments, there was silence, then the Archbishop stood once more and crossed over to a window, avoiding some of the bricks that had been scattered everywhere by Scholarman's dramatic entrance. He looked out upon the fields of Terrania for a long moment, then looked down. He sighed. "Just to think about what could have happened...that all this beautiful land could be gone." He shook his head. "I suppose that magic may just be a blessing after all." The rest of those present exchanged glances. "Well," Scholarman said. "I'd say that my work here is complete. So...who's up for the trip back?" "Ooooh, no." Ariella shook her head. "Nobody in MY kingdom is going to have to go through THAT." "Then what exactly would you recommend, Your Highness?" Scholarman asked. "Several days' journey by horseback to the nearest train station, and then several hours by train to the nearest airport, then several more hours by air to the United States?" "I have a better idea," Sarah Conner announced, producing her Team M.E.C.H.A. comlink. "I can have a VTOL jumbo jet here in just a few hours. With the rest of my team aboard it. Transportation to the States in comfort and style." Ariella smiled. "Excellent! I would like to meet them, and I would enjoy it if you would show me your home as I have shown you mine." Robert grinned. "You'll find no objections here. After what we've been through over the last few days, I would welcome the chance to get out of the country for a while." "No problems here either." Scholarman shrugged. "It would probably take me several hours to perform the necessary calculations anyway." "Great! I'll just get in touch..." Sarah activated the comlink and motioned for silence. "Sarah Conner to Team M.E.C.H.A. HQ. Sarah Conner to Team M.E.C.H.A. HQ. Come in please." Sarah waited for a bit. "Yes, it really IS me...It's a long story...No, I DON'T have time to tell it. What I need you to do is get Mike to warm up the jet and get over here...Yes, you can lock onto my transponder, I'll turn it on. It's a small European country called Terrania...Yes, you heard me right, European...No, I will NOT hold...Just get over here right away, okay? I'll tell you the whole thing once you get here...I love you too. Bye!" She closed the connection, and flipped on the auto-homing transponder. "Grrr, that man." She smiled. "He said they'd be here as soon as they could, though. So I guess all we have to do is wait." "Is there anything you would like to see while you're here?" Ariella asked. "Library, ballroom, dungeon? I'd be more than happy to show you around." Several hours later, a familiar shape appeared in the sky over the castle. Some of the few peasants who were in the vicinity ran screaming, imagining it to be a gigantic dragon descending upon them. Some of the other peasants, who'd had the good fortune to learn something about the outside world, scoffed at the fool peasants who'd run away. "You idiots! That's an airplane!" And then they ran, too, in spite of themselves--even if they knew what it was, it was still rather scary when they hadn't seen one up close before. The M.E.C.H.A. jet landed just outside the castle wall. As the engines cooled down, the four who were going ran out to meet it. Sarah Conner, clad in Cyclone armor, was the first up the boarding ramp, to find Adam Douglas waiting for her at the top. "Where the hell (TM) did you go, girl? We were all worried about you!" Adam said after hugging her. "It wasn't MY fault! I was kidnapped," Sarah Conner replied. "Look, it's a long story, and I'll tell you all about it once we're underway. Right now, there are a few introductions to make." Glancing over Sarah's shoulder to see her identical twin, Adam blinked. "You've got THAT right. Come on, come on, let's get aboard, everyone." The Archbishop stood by the ramp clutching Ariella's hands in his. "Do come back safely, Princess," he admonished. "Don't worry, Your Eminence. I will. And Robert will, too." She paused going up the ramp. "Make preparations for a royal wedding in six weeks," she added. "And you WILL be presiding," Robert smirked, before accompanying her into the jet. Scholarman came last, stopping to speak briefly to the Archbishop. "Remember what I said. You can do a great deal more harm than promoting tolerance." The Archbishop nodded. "I will. You may count on it." "Good." Scholarman went up the ramp, and it retracted behind him. The Archbishop and the few curious peasants who'd gathered around backed off as the rocket exhausts fired, and the jet lifted off skyward again. Once the jet was safely in the air, with the autopilot's course locked in, everyone aboard met in the lounge for introductions and an exchange of stories. Sarah Conner was quite surprised to find the Superuser there, to say the least. "Wow!" she gasped. "I'm quite surprised, to say the least!" "Stop quoting the narrative," Bill Paul suggested. "That's not your Author's schtick, and you know it." "Well, maybe he's using a schtick-shift." "Dohw!" Likewise, the rest of Team M.E.C.H.A. was startled by Scholarman's attendance, and downright flabbergasted by the "second Sarah Conner." "I think you must have quite a tale to tell us," Mike said. "And I, for one, am dying to hear it." However, the reunion soon hit a hitch as Sarah was making her introductions. "...and this is Scholarman, the Sorcerer Superflous. If it hadn't been for his help, we--" Adam stiffened. "Excuse me," he said. "I think I'd better leave the room." He got up and walked out, favoring Scholarman with a cold stare as he passed. "What's HIS problem?" Summer wondered. Scholarman sighed. "He must be one of the 'Radian nearly destroyed the world, thus I hate magic and all its practitioners' crowd. I've seen a lot of that lately." He shook his head sadly, thinking of his recent sojourn with the Adjusted League Unimpeachable. Superuser spoke up. "Oh, by the way, Scholarman, I heard about your and Ignorantman's participation in the battle against the Reverse Backslash. Good work." "Thanks. Ignorantman's said a lot about you, too, from back when he was with Defense Squad." "He has?" Bill Paul asked. "Yes. Well, he ruminated it, actually, after seeing one of your commercials..." Superuser's face reddened, and he cleared his throat. "Um." Sensing a change of subject was in order, Mike hurried on. "Sarah, why don't you tell us what happened?" "Oh, right. Well, it's like this. I went shopping, and..." The Archbishop watched the aircraft fade away into the distance, and sighed. It would take some time, he thought, before the country was well again, even with the unicorn free once more to spread fertility. It was like he was coming out of a long, deep dullness of feeling, right in the heart of him, like life held more promise for him once more. Baron de Hevilode's magic? he wondered. It would probably have been simple for such a mage to cast a spell of control on him, he surmised. He looked down at his hands, covered with opulent gold and silver rings, some with diamonds or rubies or sapphires inset into them, and he suddenly loathed what he saw. "Lord above, what have I let myself become?" he sighed. He was suddenly possessed by the urge to strip himself of all of these trinkets, these baubles, and throw them as far away from himself as was possible. He complied, but only to the extent that he took them off. Instead of casting them away, however, he put them into one of his pockets. Let them serve the Church and the nation instead. And so the Archbishop looked out across the newly fertile land, at the great patches of green spreading, at the smaller patches of grey fading. He was just about to turn away, when a flash caught his eye, a glittering that he somehow knew was not from any mortal metal. As he looked closer, he saw a sight that he would cherish for the rest of his life. It was the unicorn, standing free and clear on the crest of a nearby hill. It reared, and somehow the Archbishop was able to hear its clarion call from across the great space that separated them. It saluted him with its horn, and then it turned and galloped away. The Archbishop never saw the unicorn again, though many's the time he swore he heard it whinny somewhere off in the distance. He took this sighting to heart, and swore to try to become a better man for it. And he did...but that is another story, and one whose telling can wait for another day. WOW. SO THIS IS HOW IT FEELS TO HAVE FINISHED A MINISERIES, BEYOND ALL REASONABLE SHADOW OF A DOUBT. WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? THIS STORYLINE REJOINS AND MERGES WITH TEAM M.E.C.H.A. BEGINNING WITH THE NEXT TEAM M.E.C.H.A. POST, AND THUS, YOU SHOULD LOOK THERE FOR ALL YOUR ANSWERS. AS SARAH CONNER WOULD SAY, "HASTA LA VISTA, BABY!" <<<***THE END***>>> ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 11 July 1995 21:30:00 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: Robotech_Master Subject: Previews & Copyright Notice If you liked this TEB, you might like the following ones by Chris Meadows, available at ftp://ftp.cs.columbia.edu/pub/lennox/superguy/TEB/ SG.Team.MECHA.TEB.01.team.born.gz SG.Team.MECHA.TEB.02.destination.springfield.gz SG.Team.MECHA.TEB.03.blind.science.gz SG.Team.MECHA.TEB.04a.Bob-City-Mega.Part1.gz SG.Team.MECHA.TEB.04b.Bob-City-Mega.Part2.gz I would list some by Eric Alfred Burns, but at time of writing the FTP site on which they are located, awenet.com, is down, and I have no idea of their filenames. Next up...the story of Team M.E.C.H.A.'s involvement in the Industrial Revolution, in a TEB whose title has yet to be decided on. Afterward, tales from the interim between Team M.E.C.H.A. #50 and #51, and the Terranian Royal Wedding. Be watching for them. "On the Care and Feeding of Unicorns" is copyright 1994 by Christopher E. Meadows and Eric Alfred Burns. Permission is granted to make one copy for personal use; all other rights (including CD-ROM distribution) are reserved. Sarah Conner, Ariella Conner, Robert of Terrania, Baron de Hevilode, the Archbishop, Robert's mother, the two trenchcoated figures, and the Unicorn are property of Christopher E. Meadows. Scholarman (Eric Alfred Burns) and Autumn are property of Eric Alfred Burns. Superuser (Bill Paul) is property of Bill Paul. All characters not mentioned in the above are property of one of the above (or someone else) and you should ask before using them.