Roger Wilco: In The Shadows by BLusk I have a new theory to present about Roger Wilco and his arch-nemesis Vohaul, but instead of just presenting the theory in such bland normal fashion as a normal post, I'm going to write a piece of fan faction! This one is intended to take place shortly after the events of SQ5, before Roger gets busted back to Janitor in SQ6. This is going to take a while to finish, too, but keep reading... I hope you will all enjoy it! ------- Roger stepped off the shuttle pad and onto the bare sands of Beloi IV, a small planet far off the beaten track. After unpuking the crew of the Goliath, you'd think they would have respected him more, but they had taken control of the whole ship pretty much right from under his nose. The first officer of the Goliath, Mordack Stukop, knew the ship far better than Roger had ever managed from his StarCon slumber party... er, training. The young Captain decided to take a brief shoreleave while the Goliath stopped to repair Cliffy's latest "invention". Cliffy had removed the video scanner from one of the ComPosts, and had wired it into the ship security systems. While this doesn't sound bad, he managed to cross-link the ship's computer files into the mess, so that it played the personal log entries of whatever person happened to be standing in line to use the head. After it read the entry about the engineering officer and his girlfriends in General Stores, Weapons, and Medical, a riot broke out amongst the crew that lasted for several hours and resulted in hundreds of man-hours of repairs that still needed to be finished. Roger looked across the sandy beach for any other signs of life. It was quiet and still, with nothing but the lapping of the pink waves against the shore to break the silence. Wilco walked along the beach, savoring the wind in his face and the solitude away from the crew of the Goliath. The problems had been mounting fast since he defeated Quirk and his pukoid plans, with no signs of slowing up. A little rest would do him good, he figured. Roger selected a quiet spot underneath a small palm tree near the edge of the water and settled into place, oblivious to the watcher lurking... in the shadows. Thousands of light years away, on another small planet, a cloaked figure pressed a button, igniting a bright holographic display before his face. In the colorful picture, a palm tree on a sandy beach waved in the breeze. Below the palm tree sat a snoozing figure in a StarCon Captain's uniform. A growl emerged from beneath the cloak. Wilco had the most supernatural luck he had ever seen! Time and again, he had foiled his minions, and as yet, he still didn't show any sign of knowing who was behind it all. However, this time he couldn't stop his plans. He was overseeing this entire plan from start to finish, personally. No bumbling underling would foul this up! But first, he needed to strand this man on Beloi IV, without his ship to back him up. He pressed several buttons on his console, then shut down the station and walked away. -*- On the bridge of the Goliath, Mordak Stukop was relaxing in the command chair when the comm systems beeped and a face appeared on the display. "This is Admiral Hardbottom at StarBase 232. Goliath, respond." Stukop sat bolt upright. "Acknowledged. This is the Goliath. Go ahead, Admiral." Hardbottom peered at Stukop for a moment, then began, "The Goliath is to immediately depart Beloi IV and proceed at maximum speed to Sector 3. One of our own, the StarFazer, has sent a distress call, and needs immediate assistance." "Very well, Admiral. Captain Wilco is on the planet surface, and will need to be retrieved..." Hardbottom interrupted him. "Depart immediately, Mr. Stukop. Pick up Captain Wilco on your way back. This mission takes top priority. Admiral Hardbottom out." Mordak turned to the helmsman. "Helmsman, set course for Sector 3, maximum speed." He pressed a button on the command chair. "Engine Room, I need everything you can squeeze from those engines, Cliffy." "Yes, sir. Where is Captain Wilco?" Cliffy asked. "He won't be with us this trip, Cliffy. Admiral's own orders. Bridge out." -*- Roger napped for quite some time, until the shadows began stretching long on across the sandy beach. Yawning, he stretched out and smacked his lips in satisfaction. "What a great nap!" he thought. Standing, he strolled back to the shuttle at a nice, leisurely pace. Climbing into the pilot seat, Roger began the liftoff process. The small planetary landing shuttle was perfect for dropping in on the occasional planet, but useless for anything requiring further travel. He programmed the auto-pilot for standard orbit, then sat back as the boosters flared to life. "Odd." Wilco thought to himself. "The Goliath isn't showing up on my scanners. Must be on the other side of the planet at the moment." The small shuttle blasted through the atmosphere, then leveled off to achieve a perfect orbit. Roger pressed the transmit button on the local space radio. "Captain Wilco to Goliath, come in. Captain Wilco, calling Goliath. Respond please." Static hissed over the tiny speaker on the radio. "Wilco to Goliath, respond immediately! All right, Stukop, is this your idea of a joke?" The Captain poked the throttle forward several notches, hoping to make a fast circuit of the planet and scan for Goliath's presence. The scanning display remained completely blank of any vessels. As he finished his orbit of the planet, a small object appeared on his screen. The computer puzzled over the object briefly, then concluded it was a piece of space junk. Roger maneuvered the shuttle over for a closer look. Finally within a few feet of the object, Roger could make out some writing on the side. The writing clearly said 'Cliffy'! Activating the sample retrieval arm, Roger pulled the object inside the tiny cargo bay, then programmed the shuttle for a landing on the planet below. -*- Captain Wilco stepped off the shuttle ramp, then popped open the small cargo bay door. Now that he could inspect it visually, Roger could see that it was actually an old garbage can about 2 feet long and 1 foot around, with an odd-shaped metal cover welded on top. Hefting the can out of the bay, Roger set it on the ground. Unfortunately, tugging at the lid and beating on it with his fist did nothing to open the object. Roger re-entered the shuttle, and looked around for an object to open the garbage can. Sifting through the shuttle compartments, he found a busted screwdriver and an empty sardine can, but little else that would be vaguely useful. Stepping back out, Roger pocketed the screwdriver, and then pulled the opener off the sardine can. Jabbing the thin lid with the opener, he slowly peeled back one edge of the metal lid, then used his tunic to pull back the whole cover. Peering within, he found a hand-written note on a piece of paper, and a shoebox from a pair of Berksilon Sandals. The note said this: "Captain Wilco, Best I can tell, the Goliath was ordered to report to Sector 3 on an emergency mission. I tried to beep your communicator, but got no answer. Ol' Mordak Stukop has a grin on his face from ear to ear, and keeps saying that this is his big chance to make Captain. Since I can't get ahold of you, I put some stuff in the shoebox that might keep you alive until we get back. I think the Goliath will be about a week, but I'm not sure. I also included a portable medkit, just in case. Sorry there isn't more, but I've only got a couple minutes. Good luck. Don't let the local plantlife kill you. Cliffy" Roger opened the box, and checked the contents. There was a variety of things in the box, but the main items he noted were the medkit, 3 24-hour ration bars, a phaser and a small printout entitled "Emergency Survival Handbook: Beloi IV". Roger noted that it was getting quite dark out. He entered the shuttle, and sealed the door for the night. -*- Captain's Personal Log, Beloi IV, Day 2 - I've managed to survive my first night on Beloi IV with no incident. Since Cliffy only sent three ration bars, I must find an alternate food source today, or risk starvation before the Goliath returns. I wonder if any of the local plantlife grows chocolate cakes... Roger stepped off the shuttle ramp, and gave the voice command to lock down the shuttle. The door whined shut, causing a red 'secure' indicator light to ignite by the door. Roger double-checked his phaser, and managed to hang the medkit on his belt. He had already decided to hike a half-day inland, then retrace his steps back to the shuttle by nightfall. Hiking had never been Wilco's strong suit, as he found out an hour later. Winded from his walking pace, he sat against a huge leafy tree that stretched out of sight above the jungle canopy. The survival guide was dull reading, he found, as he perused the manual during his break. After a brief rest, Roger lumbered back to his feet and continued on. Just short of mid-day, Roger was pushing his way through dense bush. Shoving clear of the last stand of bushes, he stepped over a fallen tree... and fell down the embankment of a dry gully! Smashing into roots and rocks, Roger slid and banged his way down, then farther down, then finally, he slid to a halt at the bottom. He finally gathered enough energy to open his eyes, and stared through a break in the canopy at the blue sky overhead. Bruised and battered, he felt like the recipient of a mugging by a large rat! He grabbed a large root over his head, and pulled himself upright to stand, but fell again as throbbing pain assaulted him. He had sprained his ankle. "Blasted busted ankle!" Roger was livid, but with nobody to vent at but himself. He sat with his back against the embankment, and opened his medkit, grumbling darkly to himself. So occupied was he with trying to figure out what all the mislabeled medical supplies were, he hardly noticed the sudden, irrational silence that decended on the jungle. -*- Roger finished putting an ice pack on his ankle, then wrapped it in supportive tape. Grasping a nearby stick, he levered himself to his feet and leaned on the stick. Glancing around, he suddenly noticed the silence of the jungle. Staring around him, he got the sudden, chilling feeling he was being watched. Knowing he couldn't climb the embankment behind him, Roger slowly turned to walk down the gully. A metallic flash to his left caught his eye. Slowly, he turned to stare into the eyes of a metallic panther-like droid. The eyes of the droid scanned him carefully. If possible, the metal feline looked hungry, even starving, for human flesh. At the close range of just 3 feet, he had a perfect view of the droid, with which he could admire the armored, yet supple and flexible legs and powerful hinged jaw snapping open and shut before his face. In fact, if covered with a black fur, this droid could pass for that cat of the night, a panther itself, except the cold, unfeeling metallic eyes. Roger began to reach for his phaser, but stopped when the cat dropped to a pouncing position. At this distance, he'd be whole seconds late, ground to hamburger before he even wrapped a finger around the handgrip. Impossible. He stepped back a pace, and the cat unwound back into a guard-like stance. Even knowing he wouldn't stand a chance, Roger decided he had try anyway. His hand darted to his pocket, and the feline pounced. -*- The shadowy figure stared at the holographic image floating before him in glee. Wilco had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker! He watched in glee as Roger Wilco's hand darted for his pocket, apparently to draw a weapon, stepping backward as he did so. The holographic image dropped, then flew toward the Captain, like a dramatic zoom, but with a feline pounce fueling its breathtaking speed. The panicked face dropped out of sight below the mechanical cat's sensors, as Wilco apparently tripped. -*- Roger hit the ground with a thud, having tripped over a rock, and the cat flew over his prone figure. He flipped onto his stomach in time to see the metallic body of the droid smash into the bank, blasting a huge cloud of dirt and debris out from under the huge tree that was hanging there. The cat recovered balance, and wound back for another pounce as the tree above it creaked from the sudden lack of supporting earth. -*- The cat had missed! Wilco's lucky stumble had taken him out of the path of the killing droid, but the video sensor showed that the Starcon Captain was back in the feline's sights. The cat lept, but just as she was about to shred Wilco, the display went suddenly blank. The cloaked figure hissed his anger. What was happening? -*- Roger was powerless to stop the approaching droid. He watched as it pounced toward him, jaw sprung wide, claws ready to rip and tear, roar muffled only by the sound of cracking wood. In panic, he shut his eyes, awaiting his end. A huge crash, and the roar stopped. He opened his eyes. A bare inch from his face, the topmost branch of the huge tree was all he could see. Crouching down, he looked beneath the branches of the tree to find the smashed frame of the droid. One eye was smashed, the other twitched, dilated, then focused. The machine ground and screeched, trying to make the formerly supple mechanical muscles move. -*- Long moments passed, with no additional data from the holographic display. The figure hissed again, wondering what had happened. An old hand reached out of the robe, slapped the side of the projector, then darted across the panel, flipping switches and pulling levers. A shaky image finally blurred into view over the holographic projector, twitched, then focused for a moment on the face of Roger Wilco. He pulled more levers, trying to make the mechanical beast respond to manual commands, to no avail. The last view before the display broke abruptly to static was a close-up of Roger's boot, kicking the video sensor. -*- Roger kicked out the beast's remaining eye, then stepped back until the twitching ended, and the sparks from the machine's body stopped flying. Stooping down, Roger pulled the branches from around the machine. Grabbing a large rock, he banged at an access panel until the door opened before him. He reached in, disconnected the battery, and pocketed it, then began searching the machine for clues or useful equipment. The machine was well-built, for certain. He couldn't pry out the circuit boards, servos or hydraulics without tools he didn't have. A small sticker inside the panel, though, indicated that a field repairs kit was located behind the "back panel". Wilco searched the side of the machine, but was unable to locate the kit. Finally, Roger slipped around to the back of the machine. Lifting the tail, he finally found the "back panel", a large double-door with hinges on the outer edges, and the seams in the logical location. Opening the door, he found a small kit of mini-tools, perfect for emergency repairs on the faux-feline. However, the contents of the pouch had only passing interest, compared with the logo imprinted on the pouch. The logo was Vohaul Industries. -*- Roger made short work of dismantling the important parts of the droid. The computer core was a particular gem, since Roger thought he might be able to get more information as to the droids origins. However, he had also pulled a few other odds and ends from the guts of the droid. Hydraulics, some electronics, other miscellanea were now weighing down the pockets of his Captain's uniform. He picked up a wooden stick to aid his hike back to the shuttle, and started off. -*- The last stand of bushes lashed into Roger's butt, pushing him out of the forest and onto the sands of the beach. It had been a vicious hike, with tearing bushes on each side ripping his clothes. His shirt was tattered and torn, with thorns embedded in places he couldn't reach. With relief he gazed on his little shuttle craft. Boarding his craft, he sat down at the pilot's seat. Roger knew so little about real computer technology, so he had to punch up the shuttle emergency repairs assistant, a simple holographic engineer who could give instructions on basic shuttle repairs. The image flared to life over the holoplate, a figure about 6 inches tall, dressed in a red uniform, with a white holder over the shoulder. A gold insignia on the white holder showed him to be a chief engineer. A bit portly, and with greying hair, he had obviously retired from his position after years of working in the toughest of circumstances under demanding Captains who had pushed their ships to the limits... and beyond. "Aye, and what seems to be the problem?" The Scotish accent was strong in his voice. "The shuttle systems appear to be runnin' fine." "That they are, Engineer. However, I need your assistance with a different matter." Roger pulled out the computer core he had extracted from the droid. "I need to read the contents of this computer I pulled out of a droid. Can you tell me what to do?" The holographic engineer examined the piece in Roger's hand. "Well, if I could do it, it would take two hours, but with you running the show, it'll probably be more like four. Why don't you open that computer access panel over there?" Roger and the hologram worked together, pulling cables, hot-wiring interface boards and rewiring panels. After four hours, the engineer confirmed the last of the work, then smiled broadly. "She should be ready for download at yer convenience. Just plug tha' cable into tha' socket on the computer core, and the rest is automatic." The Captain straightened his uniform, then returned the hologram's smile. "Thank you, Engineer. I appreciate the assistance." The holoplate beneath the feet of the engineer sparkled, then dimmed, and the red uniformed figure twinkled out of existence. Carefully, Roger made the final connection to the computer core, then watched as the holoplate sprang to life with columns of file names. He looked at the list of names, then picked a file named "README.TXT". The file scrolled before Roger's eyes. It detailed the operating parameters of the machine, command switches, voice modes, even manual servo controls for the droid. Detailed technical specs whizzed past as Roger paged through the file. Finally, he reached the bottom, but before he closed the file, he noted a strange note buried in the fine print at the bottom. Roger read aloud the note: "Programming is protected under Intergalactic copyright laws. Any duplication, reverse engineering, modification or distribution without the written consent of the author is illegal and will be prosecuted to the maximum extent of the law. Program copyright of..." Roger's voice trailed off, as the realization struck him at last. ScumSoft, Inc. -*- Captain's Personal Log, Beloi IV, Day 3 - I have uncovered evidence of possible collusion between Sludge Vohaul and Elmo Pugg, who have been problems in the past for Xenon and myself. I thought Sludge was pretty well dead, but I haven't heard anything about Elmo Pugg for years. Could they have been working together for years, now? Either way, this still leaves me with the problem of finding a food supply for the remainder of my trip. With a busted ankle, I can't exactly risk another run in with a panther-droid. Roger was still scouring the files of the computer core from the panther-droid, looking for additional clues. The video record of the droid only went back for several days, showing a lot of jungle and a brief shot of Roger snoozing beneath the palm tree. The logs from the transmitter, on the other hand, had been a real treat. Up until the moment Roger had kicked out the remaining eye, the droid had been sending a constant data stream to a small planet a few thousand light-years away. Unfortunately, the name of the planet wasn't in the logs, but the coordinates were. The shuttle computer had finally coughed up that the planet wasn't in the planet registry, never having been seen by any StarCon vessel in the past. "Well, the droid had to get here somehow!" Roger decided. "There must be a shuttle port or landing pad nearby where I might be able to hitch a ride to this unidentified planet." Roger poked the controls of the shuttle, initiating a take-off procedure for a low orbit. The engines rumbled to life, propelling the shuttle up and out of the atmosphere. The sensors began searching for signs of technology on the planet below. The search sweeps made for some tough piloting, so Captain Wilco was quite busy when the shuttle computer spat up a warning on the screen: "Virus detected in Droid Computer Core! Unable to remove! Isolate virus onto external media? Y/N" Roger poked the Y button, causing the display to change to: "Insert diskette into drive A: and press any key to continue." Roger kept one hand on the controls while he ripped open the glove compartment. Searching quickly, he found an old cardboard box with some diskettes inside. Pulling out the first diskette, he slid it into the computer's drive. After several minutes, the machine ejected the diskette. Roger quickly slid the diskette back into the box, then dropped the box into the waste chute, which vented the box into space. As the box passed before the windshield, destined for deep space, Roger was able to see the cover. On it was the picture of a not-particularly wholesome man wearing a polyester suit. Above his head were the words "Leisure Suit Larry". -*- Roger continued his sweep for a landing pad or shuttleport of some type. The fuel indicator was steadily dropping, showing that the search would need to end soon, or he wouldn't be able to land without a Kerona-style crash-landing. He was beginning to panic. Suddenly, the right-most scanner beeped, then displayed a shot of a small platform, surrounded by trees, just barely in scanner range. The Captain glanced back over to the fuel indicator, then slammed the shuttle into a high-speed dive toward the unidentified platform. If it wasn't a landing pad after all, he would have a nasty crash through quite a stand of trees! The shuttle hit the atmosphere, the wind over the hull moaned and screeched, reminiscent of lost souls falling forever into eternal torment. The scanners still hadn't given Roger an analysis of the platform, size or any other data to give him hope for salvation. Leveling out bare yards above the tree tops, the shuttle bounced back and forth, fighting wind currents and tremendous speed. Roger pulled back to gain some additional altitude, causing the engines to howl in protest. Then, an eerie silence. The engines were out of fuel. Roger's free hand bunched into a fist and hit the scanner display. He was desparate for more data, thirsting after information like a man lost in the desert needs water. Data started reading out with agonizing slowness. Analysis Complete, Composition: Concrete/Steel structure, Size: 30 feet by 40 feet by 8 feet, Conclusion: Object is a... The screen blanked out, along with the entire instrument panel. Primary shuttle power had failed, with no fuel to support the load. The shuttle was flying like a brick beneath Roger's hand. With all power assist gone, the shuttle controlled like an elephant with cement overshoes. Roger kicked the panel covering the "Emergency Power" switch, then clicked the switch to "On". Tiny lights illuminated the cockpit again, picking out manual instruments, an old-fashioned dial altimeter, an airspeed indicator, and a level and horizon indicator. After a moment, a mighty whump shook the shuttle as an emergency wing, like those of old-fashioned aircraft, deployed, changing the falling craft into a crude glider. With no computerized scanners to assist his flight, Roger strained to see out the cockpit windows. The platform had been just ahead, he was certain. At 30 feet by 40 feet, the structure was only a few feet larger than the shuttle he was piloting. It could be someone's home, or it could be a shuttle landing pad. The main problem was there was no way to land this craft on the pad in it's current unpowered state. He would glide right over the top of it. Roger spotted the pad just ahead, and lined up the shuttle with it. There were quite a few trees in the way, he noticed. His craft was about to stall out, too, as the speed dropped dangerously low. He took the risk. He nosed the shuttle down, then leveled out right above the tree tops. The shuttle slowed further, then the bottom started grazing the branch tips. A little lower, and the shuttle was beating it's way through the trees, barely staying aloft. Inside the shuttle, Roger was sweating bullets. Every tree forced the shuttle left or right, making fine control nearly impossible. He was certain the platform was right there. Slamming his way through last tree, the shuttle's nose hit the edge of the platform, then the rest of the shuttle scraped onto what was now quite clearly a landing pad. Finally, the shuttle stopped in the center of the pad, smoke curling up from the tortured belly of the craft. Roger wept with relief. -*- Captain's Personal Log, Beloi IV, Day 4 - The emergency landing trashed the shuttle into little more than scrap metal. The holographic Engineer that helped me won't even turn on. The emergency power is nearly depleted, and most of the batteries are damaged. I've crash landed on top of what appears to be a small landing platform on a remote corner of the northern continent. With any luck, I will find some way off Beloi IV and to the un-named planet the droid was transmitting to. I'm also transmitting my position on the subspace transmitter back to the Goliath. With any luck, they will manage to intercept it, even though I suspect the transmitter is too weak to punch farther than a few light-years away. Roger turned off the recording device and stashed it back into his pocket. He had managed to wrest one last transmission out of the shuttle's comm system before the batteries had given out. Now, the shuttle was nothing more than a dead hulk. The door yielded to a couple of swift kicks, and the StarCon Captain stepped out onto the platform. It was gusty outside, but still quite pleasant as the sun dropped toward the distant horizon. He patrolled the top of the platform, then found a small ladder down one wall. Climbing down, he then circled the building, finding only one entrance, a door on the east wall. He stepped into the door, and quietly resealed it behind him. He didn't want to attract any attention until he had some idea who was running this show. Sneaking around the corner, he found a group of Tormeenians working diligently on some odd piece of equipment in the center of the room. Could The Vercotron be back in business? Could Captain Khar'n be after him as revenge for his busting up the time pod and the Laterfusion Bomb? Roger turned to sneak his way out of the plant, but was intercepted by a pair of cold, unfeeling eyes, and one lightning-fast left hook to the jaw. As he went out, he looked at a metallic body not unlike that of WD-40! Roger entered the test chamber, and climbed to the top of the catwalk. The scientist's voice blared over the loud speakers, directing him to start the rotors. He clambered down, meeting the specimen cart arriving from below the test chamber. Grabbing the handle, he gave the cart a shove into the beam... The Captain jolted awake from the odd dream. He was, however, unable to move away from the center beam supporting the ceiling overhead. Twisting his hands, he found himself restrained to the pole with some unidentifiable, yet extremely strong, restraints. Looking up, the backside of a pilot's chair met his gaze. He was apparently in some sort of small craft. In addition, stars were visible through the viewscreen, so he was in space. The pilot, however, commanded the bulk of his attention. He ventured a quiet question, "WD-40? Is that you?" The droid didn't even turn around, replying coldly, "Negative, Mr. Wilco. I am, however, WE21, a newer and much more effective model than the older WD-40 unit you have encountered before. Understand now that resistance is futile." The droid reached up and flipped a control on the panel. "Wilco is awake, sir. Would you like to speak with him?" "Not at this time, WE21. Bring him to my planet, where I will decide his fate for ruining my plans. Thankfully, there will be no meddling by him in my current plans! Leoti out." The speaker crackled and died. Who is this Leoti guy, anyway? Roger tried to imagine what plans of this guy he could have ruined, but came up empty. If anything, luck had been his primary catalyst for not getting killed in his adventures, and he had never heard of any guy named Leoti anything. Maybe this would all become clearer when he finally met this guy. Even so, this had been a crazy last couple of days. It looks like Sludge and Pugg and Khar'n and even the Gippazoid folks had been working together on some major project. How could this have occurred without someone at StarCon even noticing? Roger's mind chased this thread for hours, arriving at no answers. Worse yet, he had no escape plan in mind either. The hours passed, with nothing to distract Wilco from his mental wanderings. WE21 hadn't even responded to his questions since the first comment. Finally, sleep relieved him of his waiting, with only the question of when, if ever, he would awaken again. -*- Roger awoke to the whump of the ship landing. WE21 wasted no time in releasing his restraints, then marching him out of the small craft and down an elevator. The Captain could gain no clues as to his whereabouts from the empty, blank utility corridors the droid was hauling him through. After a brief walk, WE21 keyed open a metal door, which slid to the side with a sinister sigh. The room ahead was nearly pitch black, with only the lights of various computer readouts and displays to light the apparently cavernous interior. The readouts seemed to blink and stare at him with malevolent intent. Barely visible ahead, a huge raised platform seemed to pull the entire room towards it, the focal point of light. It looked vaguely like Vohaul's platform aboard his asteroid fortress, but with an evil, sinister air about it. WE21 prodded Roger to enter the room, then shoved him before the long, climbing stairway leading to the platform. The droid, incongruously slouched, trod up the stairs, then knelt behind the chair. "Master, here is Roger Wilco." The once proud droid almost seemed to grovel before her master, sending shivers of fear up Wilco's already-scared spine. A robed arm lifted, then pointed at a nearby workstation. "Take the scanners, WE21. And, don't interrupt me, I will handle... Roger Wilco." The voice was soft, smooth, but he had spoken with anger Roger's own name. Another shiver went up his spine. The chair rotated, then the cloaked figure stood and began descending the stair. "I don't expect that you know who I am, Roger. However, you have been a thorn in my side since that simpering fool Vohaul and his mentally-challenged Sariens were defeated by you. Every plan for galactic domination my minions have carried out, you have stopped. Every defeat has carried your name on it. I have loathed your luck with every action you have made... you insignificant fool." Roger, the light shed at last, stuttered, then accused, "So, you were behind Vohaul! But, I don't understand... I've bumped into stuff from Scumsoft, K'harn, and... how did you do it?" The cloaked figure laughed. "I funded Voahul's research, then later helped him control the Sariens to get the Star Generator. Both were originally my plans, with Vohaul as a simple tool. K'harn's Laterfusion bomb was also funded by me, as was the research behind it. I was going to make him and his vessel disappear as soon as it was completed, until you destroyed it. Scumsoft was working on my ultimate plan for galactic domination... control of every computer throughtout all of known space! I was going to distribute copies of my own operating system, Windmills 2000, onto every PC in the galaxy, until you 'rescued' the programmers heading up the project, and put Pugg into bankruptcy!" WE21 interrupted, "Sir?" "Not now, WE21. Most recently, you even stopped my mutagenic slime from turning the entire populace of the known galaxy into genetic mutants, controlled solely by my will. Oh, you will pay, Wilco. You will pay. But first, I must carry out my final plan to rule the galaxy! Soon, everyone will cry out for what only I, Leoti Montezuma can give them!" The cloaked figure swelled up with self-assurance. "And you, Roger Wilco, will not be around to stop me. You can be assured of that." WE21 interrupted again, "Sir?" "Not now, WE21! In a few minutes, I will launch a modified Laterfusion bomb toward your home planet of Xenon. It will impact within one hour, but it will not kill anyone... or, at least not anyone important." Leoti chuckled at his own joke. "No, but it will knock out all cable and broadcast television stations across your measly little planet. Then, I will launch a wave of Skull fighters, which will penetrate your planetary defenses and destroy the orbiting satellites which distribute television signals." "That will cause utter chaos!" Roger sputtered out, "Do you know how long it takes to get a cable repairman to your house in Xenon?" Leoti paused, then yelled, "You fool! Of course there will be cable repairmen! They will be MY own genentically-engineered repairmen! I will be the one to provide cable TV, with my own special mind-controlling blend of 'Tango and Cash' and 'Hudson Hawk'! Everyone will be rendered totally under my control! And once I have control of Xenon, I can flood the rest of the galaxy with my brain-washing TV, and rule them all from this very room!" Leoti's evil laugh filled the room, echoing off the rafters, and sending another chill up Roger's spine. "Sir?" "WHAT IS IT, WE21?" "There seems to be a large vessel entering orbit. Scans indicate a 92% probability that it is the SCS Goliath." WE21 continued, "The vessel appears to be charging weapons." "StarCon? Here? Quick, scramble the planetary defense shuttles!" Leoti reached into his robe, then turned and faced Roger Wilco. "Well, it appears that I'm not going to get the chance to torment you any further, Wilco." The hand emerged from his robe, then displayed a weapon Roger had never seen before. "This is a plasma pistol, Mr. Wilco. Sorry I can't use something more elegant, like slow, painful poison, but I'm afraid I have a few more pressing matters to handle." Leoti pointed the weapon at Roger, and tightened his finger on the trigger. A mighty BOOM shook the control center, knocking Roger and Leoti off their feet. The plasma fire went wild, striking the ceiling light fixtures. Roger tackled the man, using his superior weight to hold him down, then struggled for control of the pistol. Leoti cried out, "WE21! Stop him!" The android launched into the air, then disappeared. A moment later, Roger was knocked off of Leoti, then slammed to the ground. Metallic fingers tightened around his neck, causing dark whirls in front of his eyes. He barely heard the creak, then crack, then the silent fall of the huge light fixture from overhead. SMASH! The light fixture slammed into an invisible object, hovering a scant foot above Roger's head. WE21 reappeared, struggling under the weight of the light fixture, which flickered and crackled. Freed of the stranglehold, Roger rolled out from under the droid, then kicked with his good leg at the bare wire, causing it to short out against the droid's metal body. The droid shuddered, then collapsed into a smoking heap. Roger rolled back to his feet, then hobbled behind the raised platform just as a plasma bolt struck the platform's side. "There's nowhere to go, Wilco. I've got you trapped like a bug in a bottle. Heh heh heh!" Behind the platform, Roger stood next to a service ladder. He saw the Laterfusion Launch controls up on the platform, but up there he would be a sitting duck for another of Leoti's plasma beams. With no other options, he climbed the service ladder, then peered over the edge of the platform. He could just see Leoti, watching the sides for Roger to emerge. He climbed onto the platform quietly, then hid behind Leoti's swivel chair. The "STOP" button was clearly labeled on the panel, so all he needed to do was reach it, then find some way to destroy the controls. He'd try the fast approach. Roger hopped to his feet. A plasma beam struck the chair, as Leoti took a potshot at the Starcon Captain. Leaping for the controls, Roger smacked the STOP button, then dove off the side of the platform, as Leoti's second shot slammed into the control panel, precisely aligned with where Roger's chest was a few moments before. "NOOO!" Leoti screamed. "You won't survive this, Roger. You've messed up my plans for the last time!" Roger could just see the doorway, behind Leoti. Perhaps a dash for it, and he could make it through. Roger ran for the door as fast as he could, hoping his bad ankle would hold up under the strain. It seemed like he was moving in slow motion, as Leoti's weapon tracked the dodging Captain with amazing precision. Leoti's finger pulled the trigger as sparkles appeared before Roger's eyes. He could see the plasma beam bursting from the weapon, headed straight for his body. The world went dark, then sparkles appeared again. Roger smashed straight into the wall behind the transporter pad. "Welcome back, Captain!" Cliffy's voice seemed quite pleased. "Hope you weren't having too much fun, down there." "Your timing was perfect, as always, Cliffy! Now, let's destroy that facility and get back to Starcon!" Roger smacked the intra-ship communications panel on the wall. "Droole, status report." "We destroyed the unidentified facility with the second volley, but I pumped in another five or six, just to make sure. The only thing that concerns me is some odd energy readings right after we beamed you out, but WD40 is analyzing them now. Droole out." Roger pressed the button again. "WD40, report." "The energy readings appear to have been some form of long distance transporter, but I was unable to identify the destination. Do you require anything further, Captain?" "No, but good work, WD40. Wilco out." Cliffy looked at Roger's tattered appearance. "Looks like you had quite a bad time down there, Cap. Good thing it's over, is all I can say. Care to tell me what happened?" "Maybe when I have a week to spare, Cliffy. And, I'd have to say that it isn't over... yet." -*- Leoti glared at the picture of the Goliath on his viewscreen. His escape ship had beamed him out just in time, but his entire plan was ruined! The control facility was completely destroyed, and all thanks to that no-good, meddling ex-janitor, Roger Wilco. "You will pay, Wilco! You will pay!" THE END