Buckminster Fullerene, Adventurer of the Spaceways! Michael looked worriedly out the window as the American border drew near. He'd been harassed the last time he drove down from Toronto, and just last month there'd been an incident with a sci-fi writer, one more famous than him. He shuddered. A line of cars stretched from the checkpoint. It looked like the "Homeland Security" guys were harassing some driver with a rattlesnake "Live Free Or Die" sticker. But the line moved slowly even after that. Michael saw why when he got closer. Two humorless men in black trenchcoats stood in the chilly wind, questioning people. Finally they got to his car and flashed badges. "Hold out your hand, sir." "Excuse me?" "Special program," said one of the agents. "Genetic profiling. Your hand?" Michael grumbled quietly but tried not to show these guys any excuse to jail him. When he held out his hand, the agents grabbed it and pricked his thumb with a weird copper device. "Ow!" Then the guards peered into a tiny screen, muttering. One of them said, "A match!" The other gave an excited hoot. Something seemed wrong with their barely-moving faces... Botox? "Out of the car," said the man with the gadget. Michael froze. The guard's tone chilled to match. "Out!" He might have fought, might have tried turning the car around and fleeing back north to civilization. But he was no rebel, and these guys were probably very armed. He pried his hands off the wheel and stepped out of the car. The border guards grabbed his arms and marched him away while he was too scared to speak. Internally he railed and cursed at them. He hadn't _done_ anything! They had no excuse! They dumped him in a white room hidden behind what looked like a closet door. While he staggered and hit the wall, they spoke in low tones to each other. "Mission accomplished?" "One's all he wants for now. Let's go." And then they took off their masks. There were blunt muzzles and yellow eyes beneath those rubbery disguises, and hairy tails curled under their trenchcoats. Not human! One of them tossed aside his government badge and produced another spiky copper gadget. "The Overlord will be most pleased." The room shattered. Michael felt his stomach churn as the floor dropped away, and suddenly they were _elsewhere_. the new room was decked -- no, drapes that flashy required stronger language -- _festooned_ with red banners showing a sword stabbing several planets. His captors threw off their coats, looking relieved, and had on shiny red jumpsuits and huge gold belts over their gangly bodies. Michael recoiled, saying, "Giant monkeys?" One of the jumpsuited goons gave a hooting laugh. "Silence, naked ape, for you are in the presence of the Supreme Overlord!" Michael blinked. "What -- you? Or the other guy?" The second guard cuffed the first. "You're supposed to save that for the throne room. Come, prisoner!" he said, dragging Michael down a hall. "Nearly in the presence!" the first one corrected himself. Red banners gave way to orange and yellow, as Michael's paranoia only increased. "Where am I? Please tell me this is all just a really stupid new US Homeland Security procedure." They released him on a marble floor beyond huge steel doors. Michael saw a throne room. Up red-carpeted stairs, past nubile ladies with furry red bodies and fox-tails, stood a leering man who seemed to be half-horse, also half-dressed. The figure wore massive leather boots shaped for hooves, a leather vest with way too many belts and zippers, a spiky crown on his horsey forehead, and not much else. Michael tried not to stare. "Silence, naked ape!" said one of the guards. "For you are --" "Silence yourself!" said the Overlord, holding up a hoof-fingered hand. "What's this creature?" The other guard bowed. "Overlord, our mission is a success! This is a human from the twenty-first century -- and he carries the Destiny Gene." The Overlord stepped forward from his glass throne and vixen slaves. "Truly? Strange it is to look upon a live human. But where are the mountainous muscles, the legendary ferocity?" Michael's head spun, but he managed to speak. "Excuse me?" The Overlord looked startled. "Could we please back up a bit? I could really use an explanation. I'm trying to get to a party. Where am I, first of all? And... when?" The Overlord showed his teeth and stepped down the stairs, menacing and disturbing in a variety of ways. "You dare question me? You demand answers from the Lord of Planets, King of All Cosmos, Terror of the Spaceways -- Pasha the Pantsless!?" Michael shook, and stared at the floor. "If it's not too much trouble, please?" Overlord Pasha turned to his guards. "What sort of invincible gladiator will he make? I wanted a bloodthirsty savage and you brought someone so -- so blasted polite!" "Overlord, we performed a genetic scan as you commanded. Perhaps his true power will only be revealed in the Death Beast Thunder Skull Arena." Pasha jabbed a big-nailed finger, painted in gold, at Michael. "Human, what is your name, and what skill do you claim in the ways of battle?" "Michael Bard, sir." "Bard? A storyteller?" "Yes, actually. Are we in space?" Pasha snorted and sighed. "So you have not washed your hands in the blood of your enemies?" "Not as such." "Slain one foe with the severed limb of another?" "No." "Given a vicious noogie?" "Well..." Pasha stomped the floor. "Send this weakling to the Dimensional Dungeon!" Michael protested, "Could someone please just give me a ride home?" "Silence!" bellowed the Overlord. They seemed to like saying that here. The guards carted him down jagged halls of jade, across a diamond bridge over lava, and stopped at a heavy door. One of the pair twisted his monkey tail in anticipation while pointing a spike-studded pistol at him. "Enjoy the Dimensional Dungeon!" "Silence!" shouted the other for good measure. They opened the door and shoved Michael into blinding light. He heard the door clang shut behind him, but could see only the pulsing glare of the mysterious prison. He felt walls and a floor, whatever tortured physics there might be. In fact the room was hardly deep enough to step back from the door, and just tall enough to stand in. Despite any space-twisting technology in this room, it seemed very much like a short linear trench. He groaned and pounded on the door. "This place barely qualifies!" Still, it was locked. He paced and squinted, trying to see an escape route. That kept him busy till help came. A slit opened in the Dimensional Dungeon's gate and someone peeked in. "Psst! Are you gonna eat me if I let you out?" Michael could barely see the eyes. "Of course not!" The door slid open. A five-foot rabbit stood there with a gun whose barrel was lined with translucent discs. "Don't hurt me!" he said, holding the pistol in trembling paws. When he saw Michael just standing there blinking, he looked over his shoulder and scurried into the cell with him, shutting the door. The room's light dimmed. "I heard that natural humans were terribly, terribly dangerous!" Michael's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a space gladiator, okay? Now could you please tell me what's going on?" The jittery bunny calmed a little. "I'm Jacob. Doctor Jacob Expo." "Not from Montreal...?" "Huh? No. I'm one of the Overlord's scientists. He sent people back in time to seek slaves from before the Virus hit, in hopes of building a squad of invincible warriors. But after the Great Revolt began on Churchilla IV --" "Hold on! What virus?" Doctor Expo said, "It was 300 years ago, in 2051, that the infamous Dark Fraternity released the Delta Eta Rho Virus, and transformed the whole human race. Humanity became a legend. And, um... you're really not going to attack me?" "Really, no. How about letting me go home, though?" The scientist drooped. "I don't have access to the time machine. It's terribly well-guarded. I barely managed to take the gun and this." He fished through his vest and pulled out a vial of inexplicably glowing, bubbling green fluid. "If you try to sneak out as a human you'll be caught, so..." "You want to turn me into a rabbit?" said Michael. Jacob was going on, "-- Recombinant DNA of several thousand species, easily activated by ambient tachyons. Can't predict the exact effect." Michael looked at the bubbling bottle. He could be turned into some kind of icky creature, but maybe something good. Escaping from the Overlord's dungeon was a bonus. "What do you say?" the rabbit asked. "Please?" In a minute the bunny scientist had injected him with the stuff. Michael felt the hair springing up on his jabbed arm, then all over. "Fur?" "Of some kind," said Jacob. "Not a lizard then. You're lucky. In fact, four point two of all --" Michael never heard the rest, because he'd exploded. Or at least he felt like it as a massive but brief headache left him with a weight sitting on his skull. Two weights. He reached up and found hard bony things jutting from his scalp, with four points along each one. "Antlers!" Jacob twitched ears excitedly. "Ah, not a doe then! There was speculation about side effects, but with no test subjects I couldn't get my paper published in _Proceedings of the Overlord's Scientific Thralls_ -- which you ought to learn is _the_ premier journal --" Michael staggered when one toenail of each foot suddenly grew out and the rest of his toes shrunk to nothing. His balance returned quickly, in time for him to spot the muzzle pushing out from his face. Between the big dark nose and the sensation of a little flag of a tail, he'd bet a dollar, "I'm a deer!" "Nice," said the scientist. "This was a triumph." Michael reveled too for a minute. His fingertips clacked with hoofy nails but were still sensitive. Fine hair prickled under his clothes, brown and silver from what he could see of it. Nice! "What about getting out of here?" "Oh, right. The escaping." Jacob opened the door out of the Dimensional Dungeon. "We need to get you to the rocket pads. There are extensive trade routes throughout Overlord Pasha's empire. Why, our exports to the Eldar --" "Maybe you should let me carry the gun," said Michael, peeking out of the doorway to the lavishly carpeted hallway. Yeesh, even their prison was fancy. He felt antlers click against the doorframe and tilted his head carefully to get past it. Jacob handed him the pistol, saying, "Well, you're not a human at least, and you could pass for one of the Overlord's minions if you weren't wearing shredded human clothes." Michael saw his shirt and pants hanging in tatters. "How'd that happen?" Jacob perked up. "It's a side effect of the Virus. There's actually a fascinating explanation for it." "Great. Tell me later, please. If you can lead the way to the rockets, I have an idea for getting us past the clothes problem." He let Jacob lead the way past racks of parrot cages, to the second-biggest door Michael had ever seen. Slowly it rumbled open, revealing the spaceport in starry night. The rocket gantries stretched from somewhere in the canyon far below the deck to the tips of dozens of red-and-silver rocketships. Spotlights shined gratuitously up from the round, unrailed deck platform and the spindly catwalks between the ships. He nearly overlooked the pair of lop-eared rabbit marching toward him along a walkway. "Hey, you! What are you doing walking around in rags?" Each had a holster on her spangly, revealing uniform. He really didn't want to shoot them, but by now he'd figured out how not to. Michael waved his pistol at the startled Jacob, who nearly bolted. "Doctor Expo here used me for an experiment that blew up my clothes!" That much was true. "I'm taking him to the Prison Planet. Which ship is ready?" One bunny pointed to a small shuttle-like rocket standing nearby. "The Proud Anselmo is fueled and -- wait a minute. What's your name, soldier?" He started to tell, but stopped himself. There was probably an alarm already. "Buck," he said too quickly. "Um... Minster. Buckminster." "And where's your pass?" "It was in my pants. Which exploded." Jacob nodded enthusiastically. "All for the glory of the Overlord." The guards remained skeptical. "That doesn't even look like it was a uniform." Plan B, thought Michael. He readied the gun -- and tossed it at the guards. "Go!" he yelled to the scientists. Michale lowered his head and charged. One of the bunnies grabbed the catwalk railing as she hopped out of the way. The other snatched Michael's antler and whipped him painfully around toward the looming edge. His new hooves weren't steady on the metal platform. Barely, he manage to spin and clutch the nearest guard's ankle, hanging on above the canyon. Now bursts of raygun fire sizzled though the night, widely missing him. The guard tried to shake him off but Michael climbed for his deer life. He'd gotten a hoof-hand on the platform when sounds of twanging and booming came from above. Michael risked a glance toward the rockets and saw Jacob fiddling with controls inside one. "Readying engines. Stereo system engaged. Quick!" Strings and cymbals clashed as the two rabbit guards rushed Michael, trying to kick him. He parried with his antlers, felt his head recoil from the blow, and leaped up. A raygun got pointed at him but he swatted it aside and gave a hard kick with one hoof. The guards reeled for long enough for him to dash along the catwalk and into the spaceship cockpit, dodging energy blasts all the way. The hatch slammed shut behind him, and acceleration squashed him into a seat moments later. He sat entranced as the planet's atmosphere thinned, revealing stars that streamed past their forward window. Jacob turned off the screen saver and Michael stared at still points of light. "How did you _do_ that?" said the scientist. Michael grinned and started to float free of his seatbelts. "It was a risky hunch." "Risky! How did you even know there's a Prison Planet?" "Because any space empire with an Overlord _has_ to have one. I bet there's also an ice planet, a jungle planet, and a world of mysterious Precursor ruins." "Why, yes! How do you know?" "I told you, it's obligatory. Which is also why I wasn't too afraid of the guns. They just don't work in the hands of mooks. And if I'd used mine there, it just would've gotten knocked out of my hands, because there was a cliff for it to fall off of." Jacob's ears fell. "The Destiny Gene -- that's what it does It gives you clairvoyance!" Michael hadn't thought of it that way. "I'm just genre-savvy. Where to?" The bunny piloted their stolen ship past ringed planets. "I'm a fugitive from the Overlord now, too. We'd better lay low for a while at Ronald's Planetoid. It's a wretched --" "Den of scum and villainy?" Jacob twitched, startled again. "Yes." "Great!" So he was safe for now, with a chance to get home yet -- after a space adventure. He could even picture what was happening down on the planet below... _Pasha the Pantsless held the struggling guard-bunny by the neck. "Fools!" he bellowed. "How could you let him get away?"_ Michael said, "We should probably watch out for a black-cloaked stranger following us. Whoever the Overlord's least powerful henchman is." "All right," said Jacob, seeming to trust his intuition. "Are you okay about all the danger we're in, Michael?" Michael shook his head, trying not to break anything with his antlers. "I'd better not go by that name, if they're hunting me. How about I stick with 'Buckminster'?" "'Buck'? What kind of name is that for a space traveler?" "I think it'll catch on," said Buckminster. "Onward to Ronald's Planetoid!" This was going to be fun. ------ Buckminster, by Virmir: http://virmirish.crimsonflagcomic.com/main.php?g2_itemId=882 The really, really bad 1933 Buck Rogers short film "An Interplanetary Battle with the Tiger Men of Mars": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rz1AHjN27xU And the classic "Duck Dodgers In the 24th-and-a-Half Century!": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BQBa45IOiY !DSPAM:4b369b10157111804284693! * * * Copyright by the author of this message. If you want to post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission first. 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