Five Minutes Till Lunch Time! - Part I

Of all the many intelligent species that have arisen in the Milky Way Galaxy in the last few billion years, the Kfarn stand out as one of the more unusual cases.

Two thousand years ago, the military might of the Kfarn Imperial Darkness was practically unmatched. They were a dangerous Empire of blood-thirsty conquerors. The name Kfarn had become a by-word for brutal efficiency in battle. The Kfarn were warriors without equal who showed no mercy to their enemies and would slaughter entire planets merely for the accompanying drop in interest rates. The very fabric of Space itself would quiver in terror when the Fleet of the Darkness was on the move.

This reputation, although very useful to the Kfarn, was completely unfounded.

The Kfarn had evolved from large ocean molluscs, and could only leave the water in complex bio-mechanical suits. The sight of slimy, multi-tentacled creatures with enormous eyes thumping around in great robotic bodies was terrifying to many species, who assumed anything that looked that horrid must be a blood-thirsty conqueror. Thus when battalions of Kfarn appeared, people either surrendered in sheer terror, or flew into such a battle-mad panic that they were useless in any sort of coordinated defense. The more this happened, the greater the reputation the Kfarn gained as warriors; and the greater their reputation, the more likely their enemies were to surrender to them without firing a shot. As a result, for many years the Kfarn's empire expanded rapidly through minimal, and sometimes zero, effort.

Those battalions of fierce Kfarn infantry carrying savage looking weapons were actually battalions of Kfarn quantity surveyors. In an actual armed conflict, the Kfarn fought like... well, like squids wearing mechanical suits of armour. The mighty Kfarn were really about as dangerous as a kick in the shin. The Kfarn built their absurdly named empire on nothing but a bunch of fantastic horror stories and some very sound investments.

All good things come to an end, and so, eventually, did the Kfarn Imperial Darkness. When the Jelvans erupted on the galactic stage, they neither knew the Kfarn's reputation nor cared. The Kfarn Imperial Darkness, and several other good old civilizations, were swept away.

The Kfarn survived, though, and now that the Jelvans have settled down somewhat, the Kfarn make up the bulk of the Imperial Jelvan Star Empire's civil service. The planet Kfarn today is also the home of many of the galaxy's largest actuarial firms, and the single largest planetary insurance corporation, Kfarni Planetary Life.

None of these facts makes the race any less terrifying.

This indisputable feeling was the one currently overwhelming Gerrad Poole as he waited in the reception area of the Kfarni Planetary Life building. It wasn't the fact that he was several kilometers under the Kfarn ocean that bothered him, or even dwelling on the fact that he was one of only three surviving members of the government of Tau Corgi II, but the far more instinctual fear than anyone feels when waiting to speak to a claims adjuster.

Secretary
Comrade Gerrad, the Adjusters will see you know.

Gerrad Poole started at the sound of the Zarpazi secretary's voice. He stood up, nodded to her, adjusted his robes and walked into the consultation room.

The consultation room was very much like any meeting room designed for humanoid species, full of desks and chairs and potted palms and prints of very bland, indefinable artwork, and as such the three Kfarn looked a little uncomfortable. They were wearing the traditional humanoid-shaped bio-suits, with their squid-like heads suspended in glass domes at the top. They certainly resented having to put on these ridiculous outfits just meet with their non-aquatic clients, and there had been some discussion about making such clients come down to the Kfarn meeting areas in aqualungs and flippers, but fortunately for Gerrad Poole nothing had come of it yet.

Kfarn Adjuster
Comrade Gerrad, we are pleased to see you. Please be seated. Did you have a nice trip?

The first Kfarn to speak was well-respected by her colleagues for her subtle grasp of humanoid social graces.

Gerrad
I .. uh, yes, thank you, Comrade Adjuster.

Kfarn Adjuster
And the family? Are they well?

Gerrad
... Recently deceased.

Kfarn Adjuster
That's unfortunate. My best wishes. Now, Comrade Gerrad, you are Minister of Finance for the Tau Corgi government, I understand.

Gerrad
Yes, that's correct.

Kfarn Adjuster
I had done business with your predecessor. A very pleasant gentleman.

Gerrad
He's also dead. Most of the old government is. Until last week I was a back-bencher with the opposition party. I was one of the few who survived the nova flare.

Kfarn Adjuster
Well, my congratulations on the promotion. Best wishes. Now, the accident. In your own words can you tell us what happened?

Gerrad watched his own tightly clasped hands as he recited the story of the disaster.

Gerrad
Tau Corgi, as you know, is a binary star. There is the Primary, a red giant star, and the Companion, a white dwarf. Our planet, Tau Corgi II is in a chaotic stable orbit around both stars. The Companion draws a steady stream of stellar matter from Primary, and periodically flares up as a nova. This we can predict. What we cannot predict is the intensity of the flares, or where our world will be when the flare occurs. We... the planet was at its perihelion to the Companion when it flared particularly intensely. Some stellar matter touched down on the north continent.

The Adjusters look at their data-pads and nod (or, the Kfarn equivalent of nodding, which is blowing bubbles) approvingly.

Kfarn Adjuster
Yes, that matches our reports. Do you have a copy of your Planetary Insurance policy?

Gerrad hands the Adjuster the thick sheaf of plastic hard-copy he had been carrying.

Kfarn #2
They are covered.

Kfarn Adjuster
Yes, past the two billion credit deductible. Comrade Gerrad, do you have an estimate?

Gerrad
Estimate?

Kfarn #2
Of damages.

Gerrad
The north continent has been... sterilized, is the word the scientists use. Twenty million people are dead. Almost a quarter of the world's arable land has been destroyed.

Kfarn #3
In monetary terms?

Gerrad
Six hundred trillion credits.

The head Adjuster glances at her own damage report and blows a single bubble of concern. Gerrad Poole seems very near to the point of breaking down.

Kfarn Adjuster
Severe. Very severe. My best wishes to your people, of course. Condolences is the word I think I want.

She puts the reports down.

Kfarn Adjuster
You will be uninsurable after this point, I'm afraid. I'm surprised we were able to insure you in the first place, having a chaotic orbit around an unstable star. Still, this is the first such incident in your planet's geologic record... But no use dwelling on the past, is there? It won't help you now. Comrade Gerrad, KPL will of course be more than willing to pay out the full amount stipulated in your policy. Pending an assessment.

Gerrad
Assessment?

Kfarn Adjuster
Naturally. Comrade Tl here will accompany you back to Tau Corgi II and perform the assessment, and have the surviving populace complete the necessary forms. Once this is complete she will be authorized to pay out the full award on the spot. Will that do?

Gerrad
I.. suppose it must.

Kfarn Adjuster
Excellent. In the meantime, you are all right for interim relief? Anything KPL can do to mediate the inconvenience?

Gerrad
"Inconvenience"? You call the near-destruction of our entire world an "inconvenience"?! Our atmosphere - we don't know what's happening to the atmosphere! Radio communication on the planet is damned near impossible! Etherwave communication is jammed by the nova activity, we're practically cut off from the galaxy! Our neighbor worlds are taxing themselves to the limit to help, but --

Kfarn Adjuster
Yes, yes, I understand, Comrade. No one is happy here. We will send you on one of our own KPL frigates. Its facilities will probably come in handy. It will leave port in - what do you think, Comrade Tl? Thirteen hours? Yes, that will allow time for the necessary paper work. A page will be sent to your hotel when it is ready.

Gerrad took a deep breath and nodded. The air was surprisingly good down here.

Kfarn Adjuster
If that is all, Comrade Gerrad? Yes? Tl will see you soon, then. Send my best wishes to your government. It has been our honour serving you.

The Kfarn rose, bowed, and filed out of the room, heading back to their water and their paperwork. Gerrad sat for some time, alone in the consultation room, before getting up and walking back out into the reception are, past the sign reading "Thank you for choosing Kfarni Planetary Life".

Another uneventful summer's evening in the Metropolis. The sort of evening that leaves you no choice but to out for pizza for dinner with your family and discuss World Cup soccer with waitress, who is stunningly good-looking and although she can't remember who had the Orange Crush, she does know the name of the Bolivian goalie who had the leading goals-against average from 1965 to 1971. The sort of evening where washing the dog seems like a good idea.

And what do our heroes choose to do on an evening like this? We find Jim Evans and David Marcolin wasting their money drinking yet another round of gourmet hot beverages on the patio of yet another trendy downtown café.

Evans
How's the café mocha, Dave?

Marcolin
Except for a higher than normal argon content, I can't complain.

Evans
Oh, the curses of atomically hyper-sensitive taste-buds.

He gazes pensively at his hot chocolate.

Evans
I'm thinking I might go home and wash my dog tonight.

Marcolin
You don't have a dog.

Evans
Well, my parents' dog, then.

Before David Marcolin can complete whatever mundane thought he was about to reply with, a waiter approaches with a telephone.

Waiter
Telephone, Mr. Evans.

Marcolin
You know that line of dialogue just made the narrative redundant.

Evans
Dave, remember what happens when you use self-reference instead of real humour - the critics will cut out your eyeballs and feed them to giant flying maggots. [speaking into phone] Hello?

Marcolin
Right. Sorry. [to waiter] Can I get another mocha? And a little lighter on the argon this time, please...

Waiter
Oh sure, a little light on the argon, yes sir. You know, I'm getting really fed up with you super-hero types coming in here all the time with your "atomically hyper-sensitive taste-buds". It's always, "less argon, more nitrogen, don't you have any carbon-14 fresher than this?" Well I got news for you, pal - THIS IS A COFFEE BAR, NOT SOME DAMNED CHEMICAL DELICATESSEN, OKAY?! I've got better things to do with my time than serve you clowns! I'm an artist! I've got Vision, man! You jerks can go f*** yourselves, cause I'm not sitting over there at that goddamn atomic force microscope picking out you f***in' argon particles ANYMORE!! DAMMIT, I'm going to make PLASTER NUDES AT GRANVILLE ISLAND!!

He hurls his try on the ground, tears off his apron and storms away.

Marcolin
Can we get some more napkins before you go?

Evans
[hanging up the phone] Great Feynman's Ghost!

Marcolin
Oh? What is it?

Evans
That was Doug back at the Hydrogen Cave. We've had an emergency call from the Prime Minister's office!

Marcolin
Great Frolicking Pagans! Let's go!

Evans reaches for the bowl of sugar packets and gives it a clockwise quarter-turn. The pastel patio chairs that Evans and Marcolin are lounging in fold up, encasing them in canvas pods, which then drop through secret trap doors beneath the table. At breakneck speed, the pods hurtle down through the super-secret Hydrogen Ducts - a network of pressurized pipes linking the entire Lower Mainland to the Hydrogen Cave! They whiz past pipes, sewers and subterranean parking garages. Finally, after a dizzying triple cork-screw five-hundred meters beneath the city, they are blasted out into the Hydrogen Cave's Duct Receiving Room. The patio chairs pop open, and Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy leap out in full superhero regalia!

They dash out of the receiving room into the Cave's central chamber.

Hydrogen Guy
Doug! Where are you?

A rubber skeleton drops down from the ceiling and dangles in front of them.

Doug
*gurgle*

Hydrogen Guy
There you are, hanging around as usual. What's the situation, Doug?

Doug
ON FRIDAY, WHEN THE SKY IS CLEAR,
AND WARMISH SPRING IS GETTING NEAR,
HOW FUNNILY IT WOULD APPEAR
IF HERE WERE THERE, AND THERE WERE HERE

Hydrogen Guy
What's that, Doug? The Deputy Prime Minister is waiting on line 1?

Deuterium Boy
I parsed that as, "the Deputy Prime Minister is stuck in a well", but I suppose yours makes more sense.

They approach the Hydrogen Speaker Phone, and Hydrogen Guy flips the Hydrogen Toggle Switch.

Hydrogen Guy
Madam Deputy Prime Minster! How are things in Ottawa?

Voice of the Deputy PM
I'm in charge, there's no reason to panic.

Hydrogen Guy
How is the Right Honourable Prime Minister?

Voice of the Deputy PM
Down with a case of the sniffles. We're optimistic, but of course we are prepared should things take a turn for the worse. I'm in charge, there's no reason to panic.

Hydrogen Guy
Panicking hadn't actually occurred to me.

Deuterium Boy
Have you tried chicken soup?

Hydrogen Guy
Oddly enough, DB, chicken soup doesn't panic me either.

Deuterium Boy
I was talking to her.

Voice of the Deputy PM
Gentlemen...

Hydrogen Guy
Oh, a wise guy, eh?

Deuterium Boy
Nyuk Nyuk...

Voice of the Deputy PM
Gentlemen, we have a much more serious problem on our hands.

Hydrogen Guy
In the interests of national security I shall refrain from recommending a good hand soap. What is the problem, ma'am?

Voice of the Deputy PM
You gentlemen have no doubt heard of the South American nation of Cyñru, formerly Welsh Guiana?

Hydrogen Guy
Yes, of course. A small South American nation on the continent's north Atlantic coast. Founded in the 17th century by Welsh settlers, it was a British colony for many years until passing to Brazil in the late 1890's. It achieved independence after a short war of liberation between the First and Second World Wars...

Deuterium Boy
Its chief products are sheep, bananas and zinc, and its capital is the city of Caernovo, population 3 million, if I'm not mistaken.

Hydrogen Guy
Yes. And didn't a military coup led by General Saddam Alvares Hussientos oust the democratically elected civilian government in 1982?

Voice of the Deputy PM
Yes, very good. Good for both of you. That subscription to "National Geographic" we got for you last Christmas has paid off.

Deuterium Boy
Hey, we read it for more than the "Girls of the Polynesian Archipelago" pictorials!

Voice of the Deputy PM
Er, yes... well, we have reason to believe that Welsh Guiana is developing a secret nuclear weapons program.

Deuterium Boy
Holy nuclear proliferation, Hydrogen Guy!

Voice of the Deputy PM
Precisely. Hussientos has threatened to turn the Brazilian capital Brasília into, quote, "rain-forest Shake'n'Bake", unquote, unless the Brazilians give in to his demands regarding their border dispute with Welsh Guiana by noon tomorrow.

Hydrogen Guy
So, Hussientos's half-baked noodle has finally peeled of the wall, eh? But I'm curious... isn't this sort of diplomatic work more of a job for Jimmy Carter or David Hasselhoff, or maybe one of the Prime Minister's relatives?

Deuterium Boy
Not that we're unwilling to save the world from nuclear conflagration, but it is our summer holidays.

Voice of the Deputy PM
Your point is well taken, but the usual diplomatic channels aren't available this time.

Hydrogen Guy
Meaning Carter's bringing in the peanut crop. What do you need from us?

Voice of the Deputy PM
Determine the veracity of Hussientos claims regarding his nuclear capability, find and disarm any nuclear weapons he may have, unseat Hussientos, and restore Welsh Guiana to a free-market parliamentary democracy by lunch-time tomorrow.

Deuterium Boy
Sounds simple enough...

Hydrogen Guy
Ah, but the wrinkle, my isotopic companion, is Grif Pedros Pedros Dumnoric, head of the Welsh Guianan Very Secret Police. He's known in international espionage circles as "The Shroud" due his rumoured dealings with unknown occult powers.

Voice of the Deputy PM
Good luck, Diatomic Duo.

Hydrogen Guy
Ah - just one small thing, ma'am. It's just that, you see, this sort of job is a bit outside our normal routine. It could end up being rather expensive.

Deuterium Boy
And our Development Grant does leave us on something of a tight budget...

Voice of the Deputy PM
Yes, you'll be reimbursed any expenses, and yes, their may be some additional remuneration.

Hydrogen Guy
Excellent. Our attorney Bernard will be in touch.

Voice of the Deputy PM
Good luck, Diatomic Duo. The Government of Canada and the nations of the Free World know that we can count on you. And that there's no reason to panic, I'm in charge. Ottawa out.

Hydrogen Guy flips the toggle and turns the speaker off.

Deuterium Boy
This is going to be absurdly complicated, isn't it?

Hydrogen Guy
Quite likely. But there's money in it, DB!

Deuterium Boy
True. De Broglie boards?

Hydrogen Guy
No, DB, why don't we try out our Newest Toy for this one..

Deuterium Boy
Oooh, ZOLTAN!

Hydrogen Guy
To ZOLTAN!

ZOLTAN! The Zero-Omni-Linear Turbo Automotive Navigator - essentially Hydrogen Guy's old '87 Mustang outfitted with a De Broglie drive and a host of other gadgets thrown together the previous weekend by Chuck War just before the hockey game.

Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy dash into the Hydrogen Garage. As Hydrogen Guy checks that the daytime running lights are operational, Deuterium Boy transfers his cup-holder and favourite tapes from the Tritium Truck. They settle in, the engine roars to life, and they're off!

A few moments later, ZOLTAN is speeding down the lonely highway between the Maple Ridge Institute of High Energy Physics and the city.

Hydrogen Guy
The only catch with mounting a De Broglie drive on a car is that we have to get up to a high enough speed for the car's Volker-space profile to be sufficiently flat that it can surf the matter waves.

Deuterium Boy
Eighty eight miles an hour, right?

Hydrogen Guy
Good guess! Roughly 142 km/h...

Deuterium Boy
Look out, HG, photo-radar up ahead!

Hydrogen Guy
Uh-oh... set'er up for 2000 nanometers phase fibrillation, DB...

The car flashes past the local constabulary. Hydrogen Guy watches as the speedometer creeps past that magical 140 km/h mark. He depresses the clutch and shifts into the extra sixth gear which engages the De Broglie drive. With a baryonic spectral flash, ZOLTAN vanishes!

The sun had not yet set by the time Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy find an outdoor café on the outskirts of Caernovo, Welsh Guiana. They are sitting streetside as the summer heat cools and the neighborhood begins to come to life. Thanks to Deuterium Boy's fluent Brazilian Portuguese, they have procured two cups of espresso and are planning their world-saving strategy...

Deuterium Boy
As I was saying, your parents don't have a dog either, do they?

Hydrogen Guy
Yeah, I guess you're right. But no matter, seems we've found something else to do tonight.

Deuterium Boy
So what's the plan?

Hydrogen Guy
At the moment I just have a bare outline - first we confront Hussientos and rattle our sabres a bit. Next we find the nukes. Third, we find Hussientos again, to let him know we know where the nukes are. Fourth, we find Dumnoric, who by that time will be trying to find us. Fifth, we find the nukes again, because Hussientos will have moved them...

Deuterium Boy
Trying to be clever.

Hydrogen Guy
Right. Finally, we, after disarming the nukes and destroying their nuclear capability, we find Hussientos AND Dumnoric to tell them we've done so. Finally, we topple their authoritarian government and establish the sort of parliamentary democracy that all civilized nations know.

Deuterium Boy
Another brilliant yet meaningless plan, Hydrogen Guy.

Hydrogen Guy
Thanks, Deuter-

Suddenly, the twilight is split by a woman's scream! Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy leap to their feet.

Deuterium Boy
Hydrogen Guy! Over there!

Hydrogen Guy
I see it, DB! Let's go!

Across the plaza, a pair of soldiers in black uniforms are dragging a bloodied, unconscious man from a house while a woman screams hysterically, clutching at one of the soldiers and beating her fists against him. The soldier turns and strikes her hard with a backhand.

Hydrogen Guy
<< Stop! Stop! >>

Deuterium Boy
<< HEY! That's enough! >>

Soldier #1
<< This is none of your business, American! >>

Soldier #2
<< Keep back, pig, if you don't want to receive a bullet from Carlo! >>

Hydrogen Guy
<< Stop! Stop! >>

Deuterium Boy
Shut up, HG. << I am the Deuterium Avenger. This is my sidekick, Hydrogen Guy. What is your grievance with these people?>>

Woman
<< These dogs are taking my husband for no reason! We are a harmless family, there is nothing the Great Dog could want from us - >>

Soldier #2
<< Quiet, bitch! So, a gringo super-hero, eh? We don't want your kind here! >>

Soldier #1
<< This man is wanted for spreading subversion. >>

Woman
<< When? When did he spread "subversion"?! >>

Soldier #2
<< You tell your men to be more careful what they say in the barber shop, eh? >>

Deuterium Boy
<< Let him go and get out of here. >>

The soldier pulls a knife from his belt.

Soldier #2
<< What did you say? >>

Deuterium Boy draws his sabre. Hydrogen Guy follows suit with the Ruler of Elendil.

Deuterium Boy
<< Let him go. >>

The soldier lunges at him with the knife. Deuterium Boy parries, whirls around with atomic speed, and flattens the thug on the ground with a single atomic-powered punch. Before the soldier can struggle to his feet, Deuterium Boy thrusts his sabre through the half inch of loose clothing immediately below the soldier's crotch.

The other soldier meanwhile draws a pistol and points it at Deuterium Boy. As he pulls the trigger, the gun itself explodes into a dozen fragments of metal. He staggers back clutching his mangled hand, looks at Hydrogen Guy grinning fiendishly, turns and runs.

Deuterium Boy pulls his sabre out of the ground and holds it to the remaining soldier's throat.

Deuterium Boy
<< Go. >>

The soldier scrambles to his feet and runs off after his companion. The woman thanks Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy profusely as she brings her husband back inside. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy turn and walk down the darkening plaza.

Deuterium Boy
Nice trick with the gun.

Hydrogen Guy
Thanks. It was easy enough to rearrange a few hydrogen atoms in the cartridge to make the gunpowder go off prematurely. It was a bit bloody for my taste, but it'll teach that goon a lesson. I hope those people have the good sense to disappear, as I'm sure Hussientos's thugs will be back...

He swats at a cloud of gnats in front of his face. As they walk, the insects seem to be gathering around them.

Hydrogen Guy
Jeez, what's with the bugs?

Deuterium Boy
They seem to be getting worse...

The swarm of tiny insects is indeed getting thicker. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy turn and start walking back the way they came, but the cloud gets thicker. They stop in their tracks, waving their arms blindly as their vision becomes obscured by the gnats. They start coughing as they inhale the insects. They collapse to their knees as it becomes impossible to open their eyes, or even breathe, as the swarm of tiny bugs gets thicker and thicker.

Suddenly, the cloud of gnats leaves them, and buzzes off to a point several feet in front of them. The cloud assumes a human shape, and begins to solidify. Still coughing, Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy get to their feet. The swarm of gnats has solidified into a tall thin man in a dark coloured military uniform. Anomaly in the equatorial heat, he wears a black fedora and trench coat. His features are long and gaunt, and he peers at the Diatomic Duo through a pair of tinted aviator glasses. He laughs as Deuterium Boy shakes a few stray gnats from his hair.

Hydrogen Guy
*cough* Great Feynman's Ghost... Grif Pedros Pedros Dumnoric, I presume.

Dumnoric
Hydrogen Guy. And.. Dono Deutério Vingador?

Once again, the Covalent Crusaders draw their blades. Dumnoric walks around them, slowly.

Dumnoric
I do not appreciate my arrests being interfered with, gentlemen. The measures necessary to keep order in this country do not concern you and do not need your interference.

Deuterium Boy
We fight injustice wherever we may find it, Dumnoric.

Dumnoric
But not always effectively, senhor.

Down the street, a door bursts open and a woman staggers onto the street, keening and wailing that her husband is dead. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy turn to look; it is the same woman they had helped moments ago. They turn back to Dumnoric, who is smiling.

Dumnoric
The woman herself will not be alive by morning. There is nothing you can do. It is set.

Hydrogen Guy glares at him.

Hydrogen Guy
You're a nasty load of goods, Dumnoric.

Dumnoric makes a sweeping bow.

Dumnoric
HA HA HA HA! So this is the famous wit of the Bohr Warrior, is it?

Hydrogen Guy
I'm not trying to be funny.

Dumnoric
You're succeeding, nonetheless.

He steps forward - but "steps" is the wrong word, as he seems to glide like a spectre.

Dumnoric
Take heed, Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy. Leave Cyñru now. Or you yourselves will not be alive by morning, either.

Black smoke erupts from the soles of his feet, enveloping them in a thick cloud. A breeze whips the smoke away, and when it is gone, Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy are alone.

Deuterium Boy
He's trying to scare us away.

Hydrogen Guy gives him an icy look.

Hydrogen Guy
Yoinks, Shaggy, you really think so?

He glances back down the street to where the woman sits crying. Hydrogen Guy sighs.

Hydrogen Guy
Come on, DB. Let's find Hussientos.

The KPL Frigate Actuary was not the largest ship in Kfarni Planetary Life's fleet, but it was large enough. Within the Imperial Jelvan Star Empire, few civilian organizations maintained as many armed military-grade space ships as Kfarni Planetary Life. This was necessary, as KPL was the largest insurance company in this part of the galaxy, and frequently had to send staff into uncertain and unstable areas, including war-zones. KPL never failed to pay out a policy, even in the middle of planet-crushing interstellar wars, something which its directors took great pride in pointed to as one of the reasons it was the largest.

Adjuster Hababebabian Tl stepped onto the bridge and looked around with approval. The only efficiency greater than Kfarn bureaucratic efficiency was Kfarn military efficiency. For all that they lacked in actual combat, they were still ran a very efficient service. The crew of the ship was largely Partuuni, not Kfarn, although it was run on Kfarn principles. The Partuuni had been in space longer than any other race in the quadrant, and were natural sailors and navigators. The combination of Partuuni skill and Kfarn discipline made for, in Tl's mind, an ideal combination.

She approached the captain, who was in conversation with a engineer. Both were Partuuni. The Partuuni are a dwarvish, albino humanoid race, who sport a single large horn on the top of their heads which usually curves part-way around the skull. The captain wore several gold bands on his, indicating his rank.

Tl
Excuses, Captain. May I have a word with you?

The Partuuni turned to see the Kfarn and managed to suppress a scowl. The Partuuni, as mentioned above, are natural sailors, and so have all the qualities associated with sailors, such as a disliked for discipline and a fondness for assorted vices. The Adjuster had no official authority on his ship, but in practice could out-rank the Captain, meaning that the crew would have to put up with less of the latter and a great deal more of the former.

Captain
Comrade Tl. How can I help you?

Tl
I wanted to discuss the trip with you.

Captain
Right. I thought you probably would.

Tl
Has Gerrad Poole entered stasis yet?

Captain
Yes, first thing when he came on board. Heh. Corgiians and their space-flight superstitions, eh? Course you can't blame the man for being skittish after what happened on his planet. Terrible tragedy, that.

Tl
We'll have to carry on without him then.

The captain waved away the engineer.

Tl
What I wanted to discuss - is the route to Tau Corgi safe?

The captain indicated a set of star charts on a nearby monitor.

Captain
Safe? Yeah, about as safe as it gets. We've chosen a route that takes us past some of the region's bigger hazards... we're keeping inside the Empire for most of the trip, but seeing as how Tau Corgi lies in the disorganized territory, we have to leave at some point. We're crossing the border here at the Turnifwumpia sector, which will skirt us near the Wet Belt nebulae, but the pirates that hang out there know better than to mess with a KPL frigate. We've got transit permission for each of the systems between the Turnifwumpia sector and Tau Corgi, so it should be smooth sailing all the way.

Tl
What is this symbol here?

Captain
That's a pulsar. We can get heavy weather near there, but nothing serious.

Tl
And this pulsar is stable? Some unstable pulsars have been known to emit radiation which can damage a ship's computers...

Captain
Not with the proper shielding, Comrade Adjuster. There is nothing to worry about.

Tl nodded.

Tl
I was merely concerned about undue risk, Captain. This ship's insurance prohibits such things.

Captain
Of course, Comrade. Rest assured I will do nothing to risk voiding this ship's policy.

Tl
Very good. Thank you, Captain.

She bowed and walked towards the lift. When the Kfarn had left the bridge, the captain let out a sigh.

Captain
Dragon-damned bureaucrats..

Partuuni Lieutenant
Captain, we have clearance from the tower.

Captain
Very good. Navigation, set coordinates for checkpoint T67, Turnifwumpian border. Helm, take us out at your leisure. Everyone else, join me for a drink below decks as your schedules permit. That is all...

Darkness has settled over Caernovo. The Presidential Palace of General Saddam Alvares Hussientos is brightly, in fact decadently, lit. The rear entrance, on the opposite side of the Palace from the Plaza of the Glorious Revolution, is guarded by a single member of the Presidential Cavaliers. He snaps to attention as two figures approach him from the dark.

Guard
Halt! Who goes there?

Deuterium Boy
Halt! Who goes there?

He is briefly taken aback; but, despite this being his first day on the job, he is quick-witted.

Guard
I am a member of the Presidential Cavaliers, charged with protecting the President and beating intruders senseless! Now, I asked you first: who goes there?

Hydrogen Guy
No, you're mistaken. We asked you first.

Guard
No, I'm quite sure, I asked you first.

Hydrogen Guy
I'm virtually positive that is not the case.

Deuterium Boy
You just didn't hear us the first time.

Guard
It obviously doesn't count, then, does it? Now, identify yourselves, or I shall assume that you're intruders and I'll have to beat you senseless.

Hydrogen Guy
That's a nice hat.

Guard
DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT. You have one last chance to identify yourselves or be beaten senseless!

Deuterium Boy
Are you sure that's what you're supposed to do?

Hydrogen Guy
Yes, wouldn't it be embarrassing if you beat us senseless only to discover that you were supposed to give intruders free Dairy Queen^TM coupons and send them on their way, instead?

Guard
ALL RIGHT! That's it!

He pulls a nightstick from his belt.

Guard
I have no other choice!

Deuterium Boy
You're going to give us Dairy Queen^TM coupons?

Guard
NO! I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU SENSELESS!

He rushes Hydrogen Guy with the nightstick. Hydrogen Guy easily deflects his blows with the Ruler of Elendil.

Hydrogen Guy
I think you should check, I'm almost positive you're not supposed to do that.

The guard stops his ineffectual attack and throws up his hands.

Guard
FINE, ALL RIGHT! I'll check with my coordinator. STAY THERE!

He turns to the telephone on the wall behind him, and Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy sneak past him into the palace.

Guard
Hello, José? I've got a bit of confusion out here at the rear gate... Am I supposed to beat intruders senseless, or should I give them Dairy Queen^TM coupons and send them away? You're sure? That's what I thought, but these two gringos... HEY! They're gone! José! Sound the alarm!

He slams the phone down, and runs off, brandishing his rifle.

Meanwhile, Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy creep stealthily through the rich, baroque halls of the Presidential palace.

Deuterium Boy
Hey, that was fun.

Hydrogen Guy
And surprisingly easy. Obviously Hussientos doesn't hire based on intelligence. Our next course of action is to find the office of President Hussientos before they notice we're in. Ah, here's a directory.

They come to a placard mounted on the wall, displaying a map of the Palace's three floors. An alarm goes off somewhere in the palace.

Guard
[shouting in the distance] You men check the kitchen, we'll check the bathrooms! They cannot have gotten far!

Hydrogen Guy glances around. He spots door.

Hydrogen Guy
Quick, DB! In here!

He tries the door, and they are in luck! It is unlocked. They duck through the doorway and shut the door behind them. They are in a luxurious and feminine bedroom.

Hydrogen Guy
[locking the door] We've got to find another way into the President's office. Where are we, did the directory say?

Deuterium Boy
I didn't get a good look, but I think this is Desdemona's room.

Hydrogen Guy
Who?

Deuterium Boy
Hussientos's daughter.

A door opens from an adjoining bathroom, and a young, lithe blonde woman in a flowing low-cut green dress enters, combing her hair.

Desdemona
Oh!

She starts, dropping her brush in shock.

Desdemona
Who are you?! What are you doing in my room?! [Aside] Good lord on a bicycle, the long-haired guy in the short cape is GORGEOUS!

Hydrogen Guy
We...

Deuterium Boy
A thousand apologies, Miss Hussientos. I am Deuterium Boy; and this is my partner Hydrogen Guy. We have come seeking to overthrow your father's tyrannical rule. You are Desdemona Hussientos, I presume?

Desdemona
Yes, I am Desdemona, the President's daughter.

She pauses as the sound of running footsteps pass by the door.

Desdemona
There is an alarm! They're looking for you, aren't they?

Hydrogen Guy
DB, I think -

Deuterium Boy
Yes, they are. We are dangerous men, Miss Hussientos.

Desdemona
Is it true that you have come to depose my father?

Deuterium Boy
Yes; and there is nothing in the world, not even you, that will stop us!

Desdemona
Stop you? I would never dream of it! My father is a tyrant, and my people suffer so because of it. I would truly, without hesitation, do anything, absolutely anything to help those who free us! Anything, I tell you! Just so my people, so that I, could feel joy again, feel happiness again... feel love again... [she moves closer to Deuterium Boy]

Deuterium Boy
We would never ask more than you are willing to give...

Desdemona
Oh, I'm willing...

Hydrogen Guy
Ahem! Desdemona, quickly, we need an alternate route to the President's office, the palace guards are after us.

Desdemona
Of course, by all means!

She grabs him by the arm and drags him to a door beside the bed.

Desdemona
In here - quickly, Hydrogen Man, you must trust me!

She opens the door and shoves him inside.

Desdemona
Good luck, Hydrogen Man!

She slams the door shut and turns to Deuterium Boy.

Desdemona
Deuterium Boy... have you ever felt the fire of a Welsh Guianan night?

Deuterium Boy pulls her to him and they kiss passionately. Meanwhile, we tactfully switch scenes to the dark closet.

Hydrogen Guy
It's Hydrogen GUY, okay? Hydrogen GUY!

He sighs.

Hydrogen Guy
Well, while my colleague enjoys a well-deserved though ill-timed tryst, I'll concentrate on getting out of this closet.

BUMP!

Hydrogen Guy
Oof! Auagh! Doesn't she ever get rid of her old shoes? God, there must be hundreds in here... hey, there's another door to this closet... Hm, it's locked. I'll use my hydrogen powers to create an acid that will melt the lock...

The lock begins smoking, then sizzling and melting, as Hydrogen Guy summons hydrogen atoms from airbourne water vapour to join with nitrogen atoms and form highly potent nitrous acid. After just a few moments, the door knob drops off completely, and Hydrogen Guy stumbles out of the closet into an office.

Hydrogen Guy
Oof! Excuse me...

Vice President
Hey! What are you doing in my office?

Hydrogen Guy gets up with as much dignity as he can muster, and straightens his tie. A small, large-eyed little man is staring at him from behind a large desk.

Hydrogen Guy
My name is Hydrogen Guy. I urgently need to speak to the President.

Vice President
Well, hey! You're in luck, friend! My name is J. Danforth Codorniz, the Vice-President of Cyñru, formerly Welsh Guiana. If you're concerned with any important government stuff, I'm your senhor!

Hydrogen Guy
Thank you, but I really need to see President Hussientos...

Vice President
Yessir, as VP I'm the second most important guy around here! I sharpen all the President's pencils, and empty his wastebasket, and sometimes he lets me wash his car, too! And if anything, you know, bad happened, I'd get to be President! Can you imagine that?

Hydrogen Guy
I'm sure the people have a lot of confidence in you. But I really, really need to talk to the President about his nuclear weapons program...

Vice President
I don't know anything about a nuclear program. Say, are you a foreign diplomat or something?

Hydrogen Guy
Yes! Yes, I am, from Canada. And it's real important that I talk to President Hussientos right now.

Vice President
Okay. I'm not allowed to talk to foreign people from other countries anyways, not since I told Colonel Qaddafi I thought he looked like Tony Bennett. I like Tony Bennett, don't you? He's a real good role model for young people... Right this way, Mr. Hydrogen Guy.

Codorniz leaps to his feet and goes to a door labeled "President's Office - Do Not Disturb". He opens the door escorts Hydrogen Guy into a lavish study. At the far end of the room is a huge oak desk.

Vice President
Hydrogen Guy to see you, Mr. President.

President Saddam Alvares Hussientos pops up from behind the desk. He is short, swarthy man with a large walrus-like moustache. He is decked out with the standard dictatorial outfit of military fatigues and large cigar.

Hussientos
Thank you, Dan, you can go now. I've been expecting you, Hydrogen Guy. Dumnoric told me this morning you'd be arriving. Have a seat. Would you like a cigar?

Hydrogen Guy
I'd rather stand, and thank you, no, I don't smoke.

Hussientos
No, of course not. Neither do I, but eh, since Fidel, everyone has to have one. It's all fashionistas.

He drops the cigar in a desk drawer and looks up at Hydrogen Guy.

Hussientos
Now, Senhor Hidrogénio, let us talk nuclear weapons.

Hydrogen Guy
So you admit to having them?

Hussientos
I've got them and I'm willing to use them to get what I want.

Hydrogen Guy
If you think you can blackmail the free countries of the world into giving you what you want, you're wrong, General Hussientos. I'm here to demand that you destroy your nuclear weapons and open up your nuclear facilities to UN inspections. You are violating the Nuclear Test-Ban Treaty.

Hussientos
Cocoricó, Senhor Hidrogénio! I never signed the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, and I don't care to have a crew of UN milk-sops poking their noses around my reactors. I have the warheads, and I'm willing to use the warheads where no one else is, so that gives me a lot of power. I'm not giving them up, and unless Brazil concedes all the so-called disputed territory to me, their capital city will be so many radioactive puddles. Do something about it.

Hydrogen Guy
I intend to.

He turns to leave, when Grif Pedros Pedros Dumnoric leaps out from behind a potted plant and seizes him by the throat, hauling him to the ground.

Dumnoric
I warned you, Hydrogen Guy. You would do better to take my advice more seriously.

Hussientos
Struggle as you may, Senhor Hidrogénio, there is no escaping from my bulldog's grip; the stylish leather gloves he is wearing are actually hydraulic cyber-gloves, which cannot be unclasp except at the owner's will.

Dumnoric
And this charm I wear about my neck, which I'm sure you recognize as Enrico Fermi's famed Lost Protractor of Al-Kahest, serves as a Hydrogen Ward, so your powers are useless against me.

He dangles a crystal semi-circle, inscribed with strange runic symbols in front of Hydrogen Guy's face. Hydrogen Guy feels his power ebbing away as it draws closer to him. The several p.s.i. that Dumnoric is applying to his throat may have something to do with it as well.

Hydrogen Guy
Ga...augh...not the Lost Protractor! But how... it was lost in the desert at Los Alamos decades ago... augh...

Dumnoric
It was sold to me by a gypsy in the marketplace who had no idea what it was he'd sold. He died regardless, just to be on the safe side.

Hussientos
Enough of this nonsense. Your partner, Deuterium Boy, is still at large, but he is of no danger to me now. The attack on Brasília will proceed tomorrow at noon as scheduled. Negotiations or no.

Hydrogen Guy
You fiends! You'll never get away with...ack gahck... this... augh... what am I saying, I think you more than likely will...gach...

Dumnoric
Shall I squeeze the life out of him?

Hussientos
HA HA! No, as amusing as that would be, it does not satisfy my almost pathological need for drama. Take him to the Dungeon of Despair. And tomorrow morning, while the missiles fly, we shall feed him to the Pit of Turbilhão! Will your magicks be up to such a display?

Dumnoric
I think so, yes.

Hussientos
Then away with him! To the Dungeon!

Dumnoric lifts Hydrogen Guy off the ground as carelessly as a stuffed animal, and drags him out of the President's office. His fiendish laughter echoes in the Palace halls as he takes Hydrogen Guy to the Dungeon of Despair!

Oh dear me!Will Hydrogen Guy finally hit the proverbial dirt and come up for air no more (so to speak)? Is Brasília doomed? Did Deuterium Boy use proper protection? And where, in the middle of all this, did they park ZOLTAN? Find out in Part II of...

Five Minutes Till Lunch Time!
Same Hydrogen time... Same Hydrogen website!