Chapter Nine: Liet Kynes and the Holy FAQ

"I really have no idea what the author means by those silly titles sometimes," Liet sighed, displaying his knowledge of events that lay beyond the fourth wall as he continued on through hills and valleys in the English countryside. "I mean, seriously? Sparkling vampire cider? That just sounds disgusting."

The author tapped Liet on the shoulder. "Um, that's the title for chapter ten."

"Oh. My bad."

An impressively large castle loomed in the distance, so large that it could not have possibly been a mere model. As Liet approached, however, it seemed to shrink down until it stood a mere six feet high.

"Huh. Must be one of those portable model castles."

A tinny voice emanated from the castle. "I am C.S. Strowbridge, Dicktator of ASVS," it proclaimed. "Who dares to intrude upon my realm?"

"It is I, Liet Kynes, Champion of Logic," he replied. "I seek Knights of the Round Robin to join me in the quest for the Holy FAQ."

"That is a worthy cause," Strowbridge replied. "But first, I must verify that thou willst abide by the principles of ASVS. Who is TOWNMNBS?"

"The One Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken," Liet replied.

"Verily," Strowbridge said. "Now, what would win? An Eclipse-class Star Destroyer, or its mass in Galaxy-class ships?"

"Before the ICS or after?"

"Before."

Liet took a moment to consider the question. "Based on the 40-meter asteroids that were vaporized in The Empire Strikes Back, light turbolasers have approximately 22,000 terawatts of firepower. In the TNG episode 'The Nth Degree' it was shown that a terawatt-level emitter can overload the Enterprise's shields in less than a minute. Therefore, even facing its own mass in Galaxy-class ships, the fight should be over in less than an hour. The Federation ships simply do not have the combined firepower needed to bring down the shields of the Eclipse before they will be destroyed."

"Excellent," Strowbridge replied. "I will join your worthy cause, then." The three-inch high main gate opened, and a tiny figure stepped out. A moment later, there was a flash and Strowbridge stood at normal height.

"How do you do that, anyway?" Liet asked. "And why are you talking with that ridiculous fake English accent?"

Strowbridge pulled out a bottle labeled EAT ME. "I found a lifetime supply of these on auction at Christie's. Turns out it's much less expensive to build a six foot high castle than it is to build the real thing. Regarding your second question, I'm the Dicktator. If I want to speak with a ridiculous accent, that's my problem."

"I see," Liet replied, confused. "Shall we carry on?"

The two knights continued on their merry way, followed by Patsy the Gungan and Strowbridge's squire Elim clopping coconuts together.

(Later that day...)

(Inspiring instrumental score)

The two knights continued on their merry way, followed by-

"Didn't we just do that?"

"Do what?" Strowbridge asked.

"The two knights continued on their merry way..."

"Well, first off, I'm the Dicktator, not some mere knight," Strowbridge replied. "Here I am, ego the size of a planet, and you think I'm just some knight."

"Oh give it a rest, Strow," Liet replied. "I'm talking about the goddamned narrator. He's getting repetitive again. Must have skipped his Wheaties this morning."

(Later that day)

(Inspiring instrumental score)

The two knights continued on their merry-

"See?"

"What are you talking about?" Strowbridge asked irritably.

"I'm saying that either someone hit the narrator in the head or the author is being cheap and recycling stuff." As he spoke, the sky in the background unfurled and came crashing down, revealing a black sound-stage wall behind it.

"CUT!" the director exclaimed. Liet and Strowbridge turned around suddenly.

"Director?" Liet asked. "This is a movie?"

"A cheap knock-off of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, I'd say," Strowbridge replied. "It hasn't even been that funny so far, although the bit where you nailed Guardian 2000 was hilarious if predictable."

"When did you see that?" Liet was taken aback.

Strowbridge walked over to the craft services area, where several vending machines stood. One, next to the expresso machine, was labeled Mr. Movie. "Instant movies, out before they're made. What part of this do you want to see?"

Liet put his hands over his face and shook his head. "Mel Brooks already did that gag on Spaceballs. I'm not doing it again."

On the tiny screen in front of them, a tiny version of Liet shook his head. "Mel Brooks already did that gag on Spaceballs. I'm not doing it again."

Liet lunged for the controls to Mr. Movie and shut it off. "Strow, you lunatic! You had it playing with a one-second delay! The echo reverberations would have been so powerful, it could have damaged the fabric of space-time!"

"Hey!" Doc Brown walked in waving a paper, his hair frizzled from a life spent around too many Tesla coils. "I get to do the space-time continuum lines around here!"

"What year is it?"

"Ah..." Doc looked down at his wrist, which was covered in watches. "Hmm. Great Scott, now's a long time ago! I'm late! But that's OK, I can make up for lost time..." He ran off and there was a sonic boom several moments later.

"Alright people, reset!" a nameless PA shouted. "Liet, Strow, wait here. Background, take 5."

"Would someone mind telling me who's in charge here?" Liet asked.

"I am, of course," Strowbridge replied.

"Wasn't talking to you," Liet muttered. "Asshat."

"I heard that."

"Knock it off, you two," the director said from behind. Liet and Strowbridge spun around to face him.

"James Cameron?" Liet asked. "I thought you were busy with that movie about Weyland-Yutani trying to kill the big Smurf hippies?"

"Nah, I'm done with that," the director replied. "Made a few billion, so I'm on to bigger and better things."

"Like this?"

His face scrunched up in concentration. "Huh. Yeah, it doesn't make any sense when you put it that way. I was supposed to be doing the fourth Avatar sequel..." The erstwhile director vanished in a puff of logic.

"Well, that was anti-climactic," Liet said. "Let's get out of here."

They walked past the crumpled sky backdrop to one of the sound stage doors, opening it and nearly falling out into empty sky beyond.

"That was close," Strowbridge muttered.

Something best described as a galleon suspended from a balloon pulled up along the flying sound-stage. "Heave to and prepare to be boarded, ye landlubbers!" a voice shouted.

"You have got to be kidding."

"I'll take that as an act of defiance," the same voice shouted back. Gunports on the galleon opened up, revealing antique-looking cannons. Liet and Strowbridge ducked back inside just as the guns opened fire, blowing man-sized chunks out of the soundstage wall. One of the chunks nailed the Gungan, who went flying through the opposite wall.

"We surrender!" a random PA shouted. Oddly enough, he was dressed in red pajamas, which probably explained the cannonball that sailed through the air and sent him flying through a wall scant seconds after he spoke.

Several minutes later, they found themselves standing on the deck of the galleon in front of the assembled pirates. The captain then stepped out of his quarters wearing an oddly frilly, lace dress. Liet couldn't help himself and began snickering.

"You think this is funny?" the captain, who looked oddly like Robert DeNiro, asked, brandishing a saber. "I'll have you know this is no laughing matter. We are the most dangerous pirates in the skies, and you will respect us!"

"I most certainly will," Liet said, suppressing a snort, "Captain Victoria Secret."

The man pressed his saber against Liet's neck. "It's Captain Shakespeare to you, insolent cur."

"Very well then, Captain Shakespeare. I am Liet Kynes, Champion of Logic. We are seeking knights to join us in our quest for the holy FAQ."

Shakespeare frowned. "Your dress is unbecoming of a knight."

"As yours is unbecoming of a captain?"

"Touche." Shakespeare sighed. "To be perfectly honest, this is not what I wear normally. It's for a play that I'm writing."

"We have many writers on ASVS," Liet replied. "Or at least, we did until everybody left Usenet. The FAQ is our only hope to bring users back from the Web boards and FF dot N."

"A worthy cause," Shakespeare replied. "Alas, I cannot join you as I have to finish training a young lad to be a swordsman, so he can return to his own home."

"That's a pity," Strowbridge replied sardonically. "Can you just let us off at the next port then?"

They spent several more days in the air looking for thunderstorms to harvest before Shakespeare announced that the capacitors were full.

"Looks like London," Liet observed as the Caspertine swung around through a fogbank. "See, there's Big Ben." He paused in thought. "I'd imagine that we'll have the Royal Air Force after us right about now. They don't take kindly to people flying over Parliament without clearance."

"Oh, no need to worry about that," Shakespeare said, appearing suddenly from behind. "The Caspertine is invisible to muggles."

"Muggles?" Strowbridge parroted.

"You know? Non-magical folk?"

Strowbridge shook his head and turned to Liet. "What's he going on about magic, anyway? I thought that it was just sufficiently advanced technology that was indistinguishable from magic."

Realization dawned on Liet, and he looked down at the Improbability Gun dangling from his belt like a second wang. Evidently its improbable effects were active even when he wasn't using it, which certainly explained Cameron, the flying sound stage, and this.

"I suppose that means the author is attempting to pander to the seething masses of Harry Potter fans," Liet grumbled. "Great. Now I have to put up with bratty, teenaged wizards with bad attitudes and even less intelligence."

"Harry is actually quite intelligent," Shakespeare remarked. "Certainly not bratty. I should know, I've been training him and Hermione for the past several weeks."

Liet rolled his eyes and resigned himself to his fate with a sigh as a teen with dark, curly hair and comically large glasses stepped forward, a slightly built red-haired teenage girl next to him. "I should have known."

"Known what?" the boy asked.

"Nevermind," Liet replied. "Um... how are you at making explosions?"

Harry produced a small dark wand and waved it slightly. "Incendio."

On the other side of the deck, a barrel detonated harmlessly.

Liet shrugged. "Well, not as indiscriminate as Tim the Enchanter, but I guess I'm stuck with you. I'm Liet Kynes, Champion of Logic, and this is C.S. Strowbridge, Dicktator of ASVS. We're on a quest to find the Holy FAQ."

"Nice to meet you," Harry replied. "Harry Potter. I'm a student at Hogwarts, Gryffindor house. This is... well, was... my third year there."

"You mean you're actually studying there?" Liet asked in disbelief.

"Um... well..." Hermione poked Harry in the ribs, and he spluttered. "Yeah. Most of the time anyway. When we're not fighting to save the school and ourselves from attack anyway."

"Right," Liet replied sardonically. "I suppose Dumbledore is behind all of the attacks as well."

Harry frowned. "What gave you that idea?"

"Are you sure he's not using you? You know, being an evil manipulative mastermind?

Hermione slapped Liet across his cheek. "You insensitive clod! Dumbledore died to protect Harry and Hogwarts!"

"No he didn't! He's very much alive!" Harry objected.

Hermione paused before taking off her book bag and pulling out a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. "See? Snape kills him right here!" she said, gesturing to a page.

Harry looked at the page, then at the cover of the book, and palmed his face. "That won't happen for another three years!" He paused in confusion. "Where did you get that, anyway?"

"Amazon," Hermione replied without missing a beat.

"In Brazil?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "How?"

She reached out and affectionately ran her hand across Harry's chin. "You know, for someone who lived with Muggles for so long, you're really naive. I mean the website."

"Oh." Harry looked thoughtful. "So how is it you have the book when it hasn't happened yet?"

"Silly," Hermione replied, "the book's been out for four years now. Then again, you never did like to read, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Um," Harry paused, obviously trying to grasp the situation, "so that means that everything we're doing, and saying, is also in one of those books? Kind of like predestination?"

"Well, no," Hermione replied. "We're in another person's story. A parallel universe, if you will."

"So Dumbledore might be an evil scheming mastermind after all?" Liet said hopefully. He hadn't been able to shoot anything in a while, and the Improbability Cannon was getting restless. An old, evil wizard made such a nice target.

"It's possible... in somebody else's story," Hermione finally replied. "Anything could be possible, actually. Who knows, Wonder Boy over here probably even has a harem in one of those universes." She turned to look at Harry, whose mouth hung slightly open with a blank expression, and promptly slapped him.

"Hey! Don't go getting any ideas."

"I wasn't!" Harry protested. "I was just... contemplating infinite parallel universes."

"Yeah. Sure you were." She winked at Harry. "Who were you fantasizing about there?"

"Uh... why?"

"I'm curious."

"Um..." Harry scratched his neck awkwardly. "Well... Ginny."

"That slut?" Hermione asked.

"You're the one who told her to start dating other people!" Harry shouted in reply. "Besides, better a slut than a bookworm!"

"That's it!" She tackled Harry, pinning him to the ground, and began slapping him repeatedly. Liet could have sworn he saw a smile cross Harry's face as the whole thing happened.

Behind him, Strowbridge coughed. "I think we should leave before this fic gets an NC-17 rating."

"Good idea," Liet replied, adjusting his Improbability Cannon's shoulder strap. "Where to now?"

Strowbridge shrugged. "Booze and hookers sounds good to me."

"You just said you didn't want this fic to get an NC-17!" Liet objected.

"Who said it had to be in the story?"

Realization dawned on Liet's face. "I see where you're going." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the strange compass, which gyrated wildly before settling on a direction. Opening a port on the Improbability Cannon, he locked the compass into it, aimed, and fired.

The world flashed into purple polka dots.