Date: Tue, 08 Aug 1995 22:59:20 -0400 (EDT)
From: Tenandys Qural <beattier@river.it.gvsu.edu>
Subject: Re: I'm new here

> 	Alright! SPAM war!!! And it's Craig's fault! 
> 	<insert maniacal laughter here>
> 	Mike
 
Oh, dear... And Jae's gone too... I have a very bad feeling about this...

[Insert Character Sequence...]

Tenandys Qural, Jedi without a cause, itches behind his ear.  He begins 
to realize that the Spam of the galaxy, a powerful source of energy, 
philosophy, and cheap food, is no longer a scarcity.
It's bloody well everywhere, he thinks, wading through wretched, steaming 
piles of processed food stuff.
And Adol, purveyor of the Spam, guardian of pork, and noted scene hog, 
may well make his last stand in this narrative of Spam.
Qural stands at the edge of a windblown cliff, looking down on the sea 
far below, considering.  In one hand, he carries the coin of the Hawk 
that Adol had been given.  In the other...
This will be Adol's final hour, in the great Spam War.
Qural glances at the coin he had been given, the Lemur penny.
Let him get aced, Qural thinks.  He didn't care to have his lines stepped 
on.  And maybe it would teach him to quit messing around in Spam.

[End Character Sequence...]
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Tue, 08 Aug 1995 23:40:48 -0500 (CDT)
From: Mike Overbo <overbom@stolaf.edu>
Subject: Best Template... surprise, too!

Best template? It's definitely the Baadu Grey Jedi template (and I'm not 
just saying that because I made it, either...) C'mon guys, back me up here...
(i'm starting up the ol' spam thing again, just fer old times sake, and 
Jae ain't here to stop me... AAAAH HA HA HA HA HAHAHA!)
 

				Chpt. 1

	The lone figure scanned the ridge. There was big trouble out 
there, and he knew it. Trouble had followed him around all of his life, 
and here he was seeking it out. But he had to talk to an old friend first.
	"Damn," he said. (Eloquence was not his way) "The irony of it all 
strikes me so much, it's practically enough to knock me down." Half of a 
million credits, they said. About enough to make him want to seek out 
trouble, trouble of a big magnitude. "Damn," he said again.
	He hastily scanned the ridge again, and begun his descent.

				Chpt. 2

	He had always been a loner, ever since his youth. He was an odd 
boy, with "magical powers" and a bit of a mean streak. Someone figured it 
out, and trained him a bit. What before was merely potential, became 
Power. Power was very addictive, and he'd had a problem with it in the 
past. Not anymore, the man thought with a wry grin. A whole lot of 
meditation, introspection, and experimentation put an end to that 
problem.
	"No more force bullshit," he said, mostly to himself. With his 
new ability, the dangers and seduction of the Force were neutered. 
Practically no balls to it at all, he thought. The Cleansing could keep 
him on the narrow path. Not on it's own, but it gave him an idea of where 
he was as far as righteousness was concerned. Not very righteous, but not 
anti-righteous, either. He chuckled to himself, checked his lightsaber, 
and knocked on the door.
	"Yo, Yubster! I'm here." A grizzled-looking bum opened the door.
	"Yah, dere, whaddyawant. Aww, itsyoo, Beer-tuh! Shore's good ta see 
ya. Umm, azz jes' figgerin out sumptin. Wanta come in, er-what, eh?" The 
bum opened the door. "Youse heard of dat madder & anni-madder stuff, 
right, eh? I'se got it figgered out. Put it innoo one o'dem starfighters 
over dere. Works like a sweet thang. Trust me; it's yourn. Well, Bah-doo, 
whatsup?" 
	The bum looked decrepid, but was in fact a genius. Yabudabud 
Yubyadub was gifted with electronics and shipbuilding. Gifted in a big 
way. Gifted enough to figure out matter and anti-matter energy technology 
fifty or so years before the big shipdesigning companies and regular 
scientists. Biirta Baadu couldn't care less how he looked or how he 
talked; he was a good friend. Plus, Yubyadub gave him all of the free 
stuff he had ever wanted. Yubyadub showed him how to build his 
lightsaber; Yubyadub had supplied him with half of a dozen ships, and 
countless electronic devices. Baadu loved him quite a bit; and had 
protected him from all of the dangerous people around. And the people 
were pretty dangerous. Jabba was never a safe person to be around, and 
could get angry at anything, or nothing. Baadu had dealt with him on 
several occasions, and hadn't lost yet. Being a Grey Jedi Master had its 
advantages.
	They talked for a couple of days, Baadu looking on while 
Yabudabud installed the Matter/Antimatter power system into a 
lovely-looking space yacht.
	"May da Maker be wit'choo on yer jerneez, Bah-doo."
	"Thanks, Yabs. I might be needing it. I'll definitely be needing 
it," he appended.
	SPAM was not a thing to be taken lightly, and the Maker's 
blessing could never hurt. Spam was big, much bigger than anything he'd 
ever taken on before. But a half-million credits, that was enough to make 
Baadu turn and run from the offer. All that he knew was that someone was 
desperate, or stupid enough to take Spam on.
	"I guess I'm that stupid, being that I'm doing this..." Baadu 
said to himself, as he loaded into the Space yacht, as he ran the 
preflight test.
	Spam. The thought of it was enough to keep him up nights. And 
here he was taking it on. The hunt of his life...

	         	To be continued?

Anybody want to take up the defense of spam? Baadu's a tough character, 
and we'd all hate to see spam go...

						protocol, or lack thereof
						McMike
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 09 Aug 1995 03:55:44 -0400 (EDT)
From: Tenandys Qural <beattier@river.it.gvsu.edu>
Subject: Re: Best Template... surprise, too!

Random Interlude...

	Tenandys Qural stared up at the canopy of trees that shaded him 
and considered the plight of the galaxy.  The great and merciless Zottig 
Mord had perished in a ball of light and flame, locked in a death duel 
with the strange outsiders - the odd Space Marines and the much outcried 
SpamBorg ship.
	Now, there rose a Baadu to challenge the powers that governed the 
Spam.  And the first signs of greater conflict were beginning to pick up 
speed around him.
	He knew virtually nothing about the Baadu, save his origins and 
his objectives.  Granted, this was quite a bit, but Tenandys had the 
officious position of being omniscient in his own sections of the 
narrative.  It was quite an advantage, but it led to pointless thought 
and introspection at times.
	And Adol was still lost to the powers of GlitterSpam, an addict 
in the rawest for of high that could be had.  Surely all was lost.
	But there was something that he saw in the narrative of the 
Baadu - the truth of Spam.  Or SPAM, more properly.
	The ancients had written of a physics problem which they could 
not quite come to understand.  They had found the probability of 
Anti-Matter, but it changed vibrat{nal frequency and energy emission in a 
manner that confounded them all.
	And there was a name for this substance and its properties... 
Selective Phase Anti-Matter.  SPAM.  Tenandys wasn't certain what it had 
to do with the myriad little cans he had found in his travels, but he 
knew the connection was there.
	Now the only thing was to track down the little Baadu and club 
him until he talked.
	Provided, of course, that he could do it before the Empress 
returned, or Admiral Angie tracked his furry tail down.
	Qural shook his head.  Enough introspection and narrative 
gratuity.  It was time to do something.
	He reached behind his head and brought out a statue from the 
Altar to the Penguin God.  No, that wasn't it.  The Penguin God went 
flying.
	As did the red yarnball, the inflatable Mara, and the Bad Guide 
to SW that he always kept with him.
	"Damn it," he muttered.  "I'm going to do something useful before 
this stinking narrative sequence ends..."

[To be continued...]
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 09 Aug 1995 10:52:03 -0400
From: argtemp@pobox.upenn.edu
Subject: Re: Best Template... surprise, too!
Posted-Date: Wed, 9 Aug 1995 10:52:03 -0400

Back in imperial space...

<Admiral Angie sits reading her intelligence reports.  While the Empress is
off dealing with the GenCon system, the admiral is left to mop up this deal
with SPAM, and now, it seems there is more to the nasty stuff than meat . .
.>

<The admiral calls a staff meeting>

"So, it seems that Qural has found some use for SPAM, hard as that may be
to believe. Leiutenant, have the agents following him round him up. The
interrigator droids should have no problem removing this information from
him.  Captain - set an intercept course with our agents.

Qural, your fuzzy but is mine!!!


<As the starlines stretch and fade, the ISD Vegetarian moves off to put and
end to Spam. . .>
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 09 Aug 1995 11:54:08 -0400 (EDT)
From: Leonard Balsera <a027280t@bcfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us>
Subject: Spam Wars--You guys asked for it

Adol looked out the window of the Minas Tirith as it shot through 
hyperspace. With Drycas behind him and the Spam safely going to the 
Rebellion, he could rest easy. Or so he thought...

Just then, the ship lurched violently, throwing the Jedi to the ground. 
Over the intercom, a distressed voice barked orders.

"Adol! We've come out of hyperspace!" It was Landon Darkwood. "I think 
you'd better come here..."

Adol raced toward the command center, only to see a massive 15-kilometer 
long Sovereign-class Star Destroyer directly in front of them. He 
immediately felt a tremor in the Force--of a Dark variety. Of course, he 
also felt the pulsing presence of the Spam in the back...as scentful as 
it was. 

The bridge speaker crackled to life. "Defenders of Spam, I am Zottig 
Mord. You will surrender the Spam to me, or die."

Adol sunk into the back of his chair. Tenandys Qural had warned him about 
this. Where was he? Where was Colonel Mason? Where were those 
Terminators? Despair sank in...


Adol Larynth, Jedi Knight (for Star Wars)
Armand, Eighth Generation, Clan Gangrel (for Vampire)
Landon C. Darkwood (retired)
a027280t@bcfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 09 Aug 1995 12:00:33 -0400
From: argtemp@pobox.upenn.edu
Subject: Re: Best Template... surprise, too!

Back in imperial space...

<Admiral Angie sits reading her intelligence reports.  While the Empress is
off dealing with the GenCon system, the admiral is left to mop up this deal
with SPAM, and now, it seems there is more to the nasty stuff than meat . .
.>

<The admiral calls a staff meeting>

"So, it seems that Qural has found some use for SPAM, hard as that may be
to believe. Leiutenant, have the agents following him round him up. The
interrigator droids should have no problem removing this information from
him.  Captain - set an intercept course with our agents.

Qural, your fuzzy but is mine!!!


<As the starlines stretch and fade, the ISD Vegetarian moves off to put and
end to Spam. . .>
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 09 Aug 1995 15:23:09 -0500 (CDT)
From: goonie tardbox <overbom@stolaf.edu>
Subject: Spam Wars IV: The Spampire strikes Back

	Biirta looked up into space; continuously dazzled by the array of 
stars. So many. How many forms of life out there; undiscovered? The 
thought boggled him. "Damn."
	He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs from his mind. Spending a 
few days with Yubyadub always left him just a little foggy. 
	Thankfully, the trip from Tatooine was surprisingly short. His 
hyperdrive rating was now point two-five past lightspeed; point two-five 
better than the Falcon.
	"Damn."
	Again clearing his mind, Baadu searched the galaxy for the 
everpresent spam. He felt its power coming to him from nowhere, and yet 
everywhere at the same time. After several minutes of intense meditation, 
he was finally able to pinpoint it's main source of power. A vision 
jumped into his mind.
	He had visions of a terrible Star Destroyer, headed by the 
terrible Admiral Angie. He had never heard a good thing about her, save 
that she was a fierce opponent, and an unsteady ally at best. Tenandys 
Qural was a question mark in Baadu's mind; he was unaware where 
Tenandys's intentions lay. Zottig Mord, Landon Darkwood, Adol Larynth, 
all of them questions in his mind. Whether or not to ally with them, that 
was a different question. He didn't really want to split half a million 
credits with anyone.
	His yacht shook violently, all of a sudden. Bearing down on him 
was a Sovereign class Star Destroyer. He noticed another ship being fired 
upon, and was all of a sudden grateful for his Capital-scale power 
output. Matter/Antimatter definitely had its advantages; he could afford 
full-body particle and ray shielding. Checking his guages, he noticed 
shield rating at 94%. After four direct hits, at that. A sadistic grin 
appeared on Baadu's face, and powered up his weapons. He wondered where 
the bridge was on that sovereign class Star Destroyer...
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 09 Aug 1995 22:04:01 -0400 (EDT)
From: LOGAN1040@delphi.com
Subject: Spam Wars, chapter four, A New Spam

Gunner Christensen, Galactic Adventurer, relaxed in the cushy seats on the
bridge of his beloved mid-sized transport, the "Grand Discovery," as it 
hurled thorugh the mottled, swirling domain of hyperspace.

Gunner sent a practiced, casual eye over his readouts and indecators.

Noting something odd on his CGT array, he decided to drop out of hyperspace.

As he reached for his hyperdrive levers, his faithful R7 unit rolled forward
and whistled a question.

Having spend years around various astromechs, Gunner understood his droids
interogative.

"Nah, Teefour, I doubt it is anything spectacular.  This sector has always
been kinda dull.  Probably just a rogue planetoid or something.  Still..
go ahead and interface with the computers, Teefour.  We might get lucky."

Gunner slid the levers back, and the sky flared back into starlines, and
then back to stars...

And got one massive surprise!

10 klicks away, one of the largest Star Destoyers he ever saw loomed over
a rather tiny looking transport.

"TEEFOUR!!  HIT THE CLOAK!" Gunner cried, franticly slapping switches and
levers to re-route power to battle systems.

No sooner than the order was given, than the proper read-outs read that
the cloak was indead active, and the tiny sensor extendor was out,
a small piece of hardware that Gunner came up with a while back to eliminate
the blindness of a cloaking field.  Virtually undetectable itself, it will
appear to be an innocent piece of space junk.

Feeling much safer now, Gunner read his sensors in depth.
The computer ID'd the Star Destroyer as of the Soverign class.
The transport was the Minas Tirith, and, as he watched, a small Space Yacht
jumped in.  
The passive sensors said that the Yacht had such a massive shield rating
that Gunner decided to do an overhaul on the entire rig if he got out of
this.

A friendly, warm voice came from his intercom: "Would ya look at this!  Boss,
I'm reading SPAM!!"

Gunner checked his readings.  Yep, there it was.
"Spam, eh?" Gunner thought as he manuvered the Grand Discovery closer.

"This could be more interesting then I thought..."
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 11:11:11 -0400
From: Peter Vale <povale@novice.uwaterloo.ca>
Subject: Outer Rim... Tatooine...

Ok Ok, <struggling vainly> I've tried to stay out of it, <collapses with 
fatigue> but I just can't any longer... <gets sucked into the Spam maelstrom>


<A smoke filled room, alien music and conversations in a hundred 
languages form a cacophany in the background.  Dim, filtered sunlight 
illuminates most of the audience chamber.  Eyes casually glance at a far 
wall where a piece of what some would call artwork hangs highlighted.  It 
is a figure of a man frozen in carbonite.  A bulbous, slug-like creature 
rests on a raised dais in the centre of the room.  A grey protocol droid 
stands next to him, translating the crime boss' proclamations.  Fully 
aware that he is standing on a grating, a teenage boy listens carefully 
to the large Hutt.
Sudden silence.
Jabba bellows with rage and smashes the tank that once held his live.. 
snacks.>

"The almighty Jabba is 'tired of these tasteless frogs'."  The modulated 
voice of the droid wavers slightly as the mighty crime lord continues his 
rant.  "He wishes for something more suited to his royal status."

The boy stands motionless.  Anything could set his boss off now and he's 
seen too many people fall into the pit.

Jabba calms slightly and growls his request.  The droid translates, "His 
mightiness wishes for you to find something called... Spam?"

Confused, the boy dares to ask a question, "Spam?"

Excited by the prospects of this venture, Jabba begins flailing his arms, 
describing what little he has heard about this wonderous Spam to the 
boy.  The droid tilts it's head in thought.  

"But why me?  I don't even know what it is."

"Jabba says that you are one of his best information gatherers.  He 
trusts you will not fail him.  You will be rewarded."

With thoughts of great rewards, and relief from leaving Jabba's presence, 
the boy walks towards the main gate of the palace.  Behind him he hears 
the echo of the droid's final statement, "But Jabba, I don't think Spam 
is supposed to be eaten..."  A growl, the sound of metal crashing to the 
floor, and then the music and conversation picks up where it left off.

The boy begins to mutter to himself, "Spam, spam, spam, spam.  Hmmm.  
That's got an interesting ring to it.  Spam spam spam spam, nah."

<Years pass...
The boy, now in his twenties, has returned to Tatooine and is seated at a 
booth in the Cantina at the Mos Eisley Spaceport.  A fizzy purple drink 
sits on the table ahead of him.>

Seemingly talking to nobody, he sighs.  "I don't know why I'm still 
looking for this stuff.  I wish I wasn't so damn curious.  And now I'm 
back on Tatooine.  Jabba's dead."  

He sighs again, and drains most of the contents of the glass.  "Come on 
IV, lets go check out this, this, whatever his tongue-twisting name is."

A reassuring beep comes out of his backpack as he shoulders it and pulls 
a hood over his green hair.  He adjusts the visor he built to act as a 
heads up display from the droid brain/computer in his pack.  A message 
flashes across, "Don't worry Rinn, we'll find it."

"Yeah, IV, you can count on it."

  p**p.      E       E         Peter Vale <povale@novice.uwaterloo.ca> 
 R        ,#i.....,#i  ,O*.    University of Waterloo  /  Bulldog Group Inc.
R(   .jj###############ssss$)  
 Rrttt*   '#i''''''#i' `Oe*    The Salamander Hole (...currently offline) :(
             E       E         http://novice.uwaterloo.ca:8000/~povale/
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 13:23:21 -0400 (EDT)
From: Leonard Balsera <a027280t@bcfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us>
Subject: Spam Wars--The Origin Gone

Landon Darkwood looked over the sensor board for a few seconds, then 
turned to Adol Larynth at his right.

"It was there for a second, I swear, some sort of light transport," he said.

Adol stared out the front viewport of the Minas Tirith. "He's still 
there. I don't know how a ship that small could do it...."

"Do what?" 

"Install a cloaking device."

"Hmmm...think he's here for the Spam?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. Comlink the Sovereign."

Landon reached over and activated the ship's comlink. Adol grabbed the 
speaker microphone.

"Zottig Mord, this is Adol Larynth aboard the Tirith. Did you register 
that ship that just cloaked?"

A husky voice answered. "Yeah, we got it. It seems to be an Imperial 
cloak. We are working on its transponder ID now."

Suddenly, a yacht came out of hyperspace too close to the Tirith and 
impacted its side. The Tirith went spinning into the vast reaches of 
space. 

"Adol!" Landon shouted. "Why aren't the lateral thrusters responding?" 

The astromech unit in the back answered the question itself.

Adol looked up. "It's been clogged with Spam. We're done for..."

Landon rushed to the back cargo hold. If that cloaked ship was out there, 
and it had a tractor beam, then only it could save the Spam now. 

"Adol," Landon started, speaking through the intercom. "I'm jettisoning 
the cargo towards that ship that cloaked. It's my guess that it has a 
tractor, and we can't afford to let Zottig get it. 

On the bridge, Adol nodded. He set the limited strength tractor to point 
at the direction of that cloaked ship. "Ready, Darkwood!" he called.

Landon rushed out of the cargo bay and sealed the entryway. "Do it, Jedi!"


Gunner C. sat in silence during all this. Suddenly the speaker on his 
bridge comlink tuned in to a Standard Clear Frequency used for public 
broadcasts. "Cloaked ship, this is Captain Landon Darkwood of the Minas 
Tirith. We were forced to jettison a whole shitload of Spam to you 
because of collision damage. Pick it up before that Star Destroyer does! 
You must save it..." The signal abruptly went into static and a series of 
small explosions registered on his ship's sensors. He swung into position 
to pick up the Spam.


On the bridge of the Sovereign, Zottig Mord was enraged. "They have 
Spam!!!! Get it, quick, before that ship does!!!" 

It was too late. The Spam was gone, having been rescued by Gunner, and 
his ship decloaked and shot into hyperspace.

Zottig stood. "Okay," he said, his Force sensitive fingers tingling, "who 
was responsible for that little screwup?"


"Admiral!" A communications officer on the ISD Vegetarian approached the 
center seat. A lithe, but older figure faced him. "The spy yacht you sent 
has performed beautifully. The Minas Tirith is crippled almost beyond 
repair, and they have transferred the cargo to another light freighter, 
which shot into hyperspace. Fortunately, the yacht was able to calculate 
its hyperspace trajectory. We can follow it."

Admiral Angie rose, delighted at the thought that the Empress' goons were 
actually competent for a change. "Track the Spam's course. No doubt, 
Tenandys Qural will be on the tail (pun intended) of that Spam, and I'll 
get him there. Now, Adol Larynth has no bearing on this conflict. Qural, 
your fuzzy ass (tail included) will soon be nothing more than a 
decoration on my wall!!! Prepare to go into hyperspace!" She sat back 
down, elated. Things were going to change....

(Author's Note: That's it for me, folks. I am going out of town for a 
while. I don't want anyone using my characters. I am out of the Spam Wars 
forever, or until I get back, whichever comes first. Tenandys Qural is 
the new defender of Spam. He's your target now. Someone please mail me 
all copies of any Spam Wars stuff for a few weeks, as I am unsubscribing 
from the List. <sniff> Farewell, all, and may the Spam be with you always.)


Adol Larynth, Jedi Knight (for Star Wars)
Armand, Eighth Generation, Clan Gangrel (for Vampire)
Landon C. Darkwood (for both....)
a027280t@bcfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 15:05:55 -0400
From: argtemp@pobox.upenn.edu
Subject: The Dark side of Spam

**Back at the ISD Vegetarian**

<After recovering the cloaked ship full of SPAM, Admiral Angie set her
scientists to work, testing the pork laden product, to find new ways to
twist it's powers to the dark side.  The Empress will be most pleased...>

<a young private runs up to the center chair, waving a printout sheet>
Admiral! We've had a break through!

<the Admiral, unhurried, turns the chair around and fixes the private with
a steely glare. The private remembers to salute, and simultaneously tries
to grovel for forgiveness. The admiral finally lets up>

Well, what is it then?

Sir, uh Ma'am, uh Admiral ma'am sir. . .

Shut up and get on with it!!

Uh, yes, well, the scientists have found a new use for the stuff - Signal
Projection Amplification Matter - It allows the projection of a holographic
image over a large area, up to the size of a small building, and ...

<The admiral impatiently snatches the report from the snivelling idoit>
You are dismissed.  Oh, and make sure to add one ration of Spam to your
meal every day for the next two weeks, as punishment for your incompetence.

NOOOOOOOO!!!
 <the sobbing wreck of what was once a man is removed from the bridge by
the admiral's guards, a lesson in discipline for the watching crew>

<with an ugly sneer, the Admiral calls out orders>
Captain! set a course for Tattoine - It's time we brought these
Spam-do-gooders to an end.  And tell science officer Matrikk to prepare an
image with the new SPAM device of a "spam processing factory" to be placed
in a hidden part of the Tattoine desert.  Communications officer - Make
sure that a transmission "slips" about finding a replenishable source of
spam.  That should bring those jedi-pud's running.

<As the star lines fade, the only thing left of the ISD Vegetarian is a
cackle of evil laughter, floating out through space . . .>

************
All right spamsters, whose next?

Admiral Angie
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 15:21:03 -0400
From: ryohib@ViaNet.on.ca (D. Jeremy Brown)
Subject: The Fury of the Spampire

        The bridge of the Kodachi was filled with the peircing wail of the
emergency Klaxon.  Cort Cadaan pushed himself wearily to his feet, rubbing
the sleep from his eyes.
        "Alright, alright...What the hell is wrong?" he asked the flickering
light on the console to his left.
        "We're about to be dumped out of hyperspace and you have the nerve
to ask what's wrong?" wailed the ship.  The klaxons crescendoed, almost
drowning out the enraged roar of a very tired, very cranky Wookie as she
made her way to the bridge.
        "Don't yell at me, I don't know what's going on...and turn those
damn alarms off!" Cadaan yelled, attemping to restore some semblence of
order to his bridge.
        The bridge of the Destroyer was a flurry of activity.  
        "Sir, we've picked up another TWO blips on our scanners...both have
been pulled from hyperspace by the SPAM feild.  Let me see, there's...a
YT-1300...it's power indications are off scale!  The other is some kind of
fighter vessel!" cried the rating manning the scanner.
        Cort Cadaan looked at the monstrosity before him...a vessel
dedicated to the dark power of SPAM.  He turned his head to his co-pilot
Kormalah with dismay.
        "I've got a very bad feeling about this..."
        The Wookie rumbled her agreement.
**********************************************************************
D. Jeremy Brown              "Now does my project gather to      
ryohib@vianet.on.ca             a head..." 
                                        - The Tempest
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 17:05:06 -0500 (CDT)
From: "Michael F. Overbo" <overbom@stolaf.edu>
Subject: Revenge of the Spami

	Biirta cursed his bad luck. Here he thought that maybe this 
mission wouldn't be too hard, but it turned out that there were no less 
than four ships involved. Plus the spam, and Biirta knew that Spam was 
greater than the sum of its parts. Of one thing Biirta was happy, he 
still had his ace-in-the-hole, plus the ship. He guessed his odds of 
coming out on top at about fifty-fifty. Tracking the spam was easy 
enough; the fool that thought he could escape with a hyperdrive and a 
cloaking device had a nasty surprise coming.
	Spam left such a register on Baadu's senses; he could probably 
find the ship with the spam flying blind, and probably attack it, too. 
Something felt wrong, though. About ten to fifteen kilometers long. 
Sovereign class star destroyers were not fun to play with. Baadu just 
hoped his ship was fast enough to evade their turbolasers.
	All of a sudden, Baadu gasped in shock. Someone out there was 
crying out; worse than when Alderaan was destroyed... Baadu forced 
himself to concentrate, and saw a hideous vision. Someone was being 
forced to eat spam.
	Baadu cried for that man's sake; there was only one thing he 
could do. End the man's misery, and take out the spam. No more lurking in 
the shadows. Baadu had never been a kind man, even a decent man, but he 
drew the line at killing humanity. Spam could do that.
	His ace in the hole -- the Empress wasn't the only person that 
could use force storms. Baadu had no qualms about destroying the 
Vegetarian; sometimes the ends just had to justify the means. Spam had to 
go. The only question was who was going to go with it.
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 1995 19:05:32 -0400 (EDT)
From: Leonard Balsera <a027280t@bcfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us>
Subject: Spam Wars--The Really Last Goodbye

The two figures huddled with a Droid in the cramped space of an escape 
pod. One, a Jedi, turned to the other. He could smell the smoke from the 
burning hull of the ship. At least they got the Spam out before...

"I can't believe it. All the money I crammed into this thing..." Landon 
Darkwood's voice cut through Adol's thoughts. "All wasted, because of 
Spam. Can't you Force us out of this, or something?

Adol's face was blank. He picked up his facial features from off the 
floor and reattached them. "No, Landon," he said finally, "I can't do a 
thing." Suddenly, a huge surge in the Force hit Adol like a ton and a 
half of bricks. Someone was eating Spam. He was instantly galvanized into 
action. Quickly, he sent out a Force call to the only one in the galaxy 
who could hear him.


Maranda was pacing again. She had been pacing ever since Adol and Landon 
had dropped her off on the Minas Tirith II, Landon's BIG ship. I'm a Jedi 
too, she thought. What are they trying to protect me from? They're 
probably in flames in deep space. Good. They deserve it. 

"No," she said aloud, "suppress the anger..." She in reality was worried 
as hell. That was when her Force senses went up like wildfire. Someone 
was eating Spam. After that, a voice sounded in her head. It was Adol's.

"Maranda! Hear me, my love," it implored. "The ship...crippled. The Spam 
was transferred to another ship, who hopefully got it to Tenandys in 
time. We are of no more use. Help us. The ship is going up in flames 
slowly. Please..." The voice began to rattle off a string of coordinates 
and was silent.

Maranda hit the briddge intercom. "AJ, AJ, are you up?"

A groggy AJ, bounty hunter extrordinaire, answered. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Darkwood and Adol are in trouble. Wake up the crew of the Space Hawk. 
We're movin' out."

Later, the crew of the Space Hawk, a YT-1300 light freighter, along with 
Maranda and AJ were standing in the landing bay. Sal Harkov, ship's 
captain; Ra and Naralis Solray, bounty hunters; and Astar Leage, senior 
tech were making flight preperations. 

Sal glanced up from his bridge console just before takeoff. "Is there 
anything we can do for the Tirith?"

"Doubtful," Maranda replied. "Just go, and may the Force be with us."

(Author's Note: You believe this nonsense is actually driving people off 
the List? Anyway, this in no way implies that I want Darkie and the Jedi 
to get dragged into this mess again. I just wanted to show off the Jedi's 
new girlfriend.) Later. 


+-------------------------------------------------------+
+ "The Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense,   +
+  never for attack? A platitude for the simple-minded. +
+  Or for those with insufficient wisdom to make their  +
+  own decisions. I am beyond such things."             +
+                                                       +
+                      -Jedi Master Joruus C'baoth      +
+-------------------------------------------------------+
Captain Landon C. Darkwood (retired)
Adol Larynth, Jedi Knight (certainly NOT retired)
a027280t@bcfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 1995 00:02:17 -0400 (EDT)
From: Tenandys Qural <beattier@river.it.gvsu.edu>
Subject: The Politics of ContraSPAM...

[Random Narrative Deviation...]

Tenandys Qural stood up, his breath coming in ragged gasps.  Admiral 
Angie and everybody else in the whole bleeding galaxy was coming after 
him for reasons that he didn't quite understand.  He coughed, clearing 
the Spam smoke from his lungs.

"Let's see," he said, "The Empress is due to return soon, at which point 
I'm going to get badly <fzook>'ed, Admiral Angie and Mord were out there 
somewhere, Gunner had a cargo of ill-gotten Spam on its way here, some 
unnamed boy was out looking for me (having the nerve to claim that my 
name was unpronounceable), and so far, I'm seeing three versions of Spam 
(Spam - from which the Dark Side of the Spam and Spami are derived, SPA/M 
- the mysterious energy field that surrounds the Spam (you know the 
rest), and SPAM - which was a strange sorm of holographic technology that 
derived from Spam as well)."

Well, he thought, there's only one thing to do.  He turned away from the 
pile of random detritus that he had been struggling with earlier and 
headed to the cave where his ship had been secreted.

All the time, he wondered if his free-basing Spam was giving his all the 
weird dreams.  He had woken from a dream about being turned into a petite 
red-haired girl with a pony-tail when splashed with cold water.  He 
shuddered all over.

His ship, the Nabiki, was an aged GAT Skipray Blastboat that he had 
procured from the Empire during his short stint as a Combat Engineer.  He 
threw the cloak from it and stepped, powering up the systems and the 
slaved droids that served as his crew.  "McMike, start figuring in a 
course for the Dorben System."

"But, sir, i'm just a protocol droid..."

"At the moment, you're a box underneath the copilot's chair.  Now do you 
want to figure out that course, or do I have to subject you to more Bruce 
Campbell movies?"

"Getting right on it, sir."

Now, he thought, where would he go after Dorben?

Adol and Landon had already summoned some form of help, and they were 
both scene hogs anyway.  They could cope.

The boy on Tattooine was just confusing to him, and the Baadu looked 
pretty likely to nuke him on sight.  Nope.

Gunner was his most likely course.  He sat down at the comm station and 
began composing a missive to transmit across the Holo-Net.

After he procured the Spam, he'd fly directly into the teeth of the 
dragon - confronting Admiral Angie herself.

He smiled at the thought.  If she wanted his butt so badly, she was 
welcome to take him on.

After all, only he knew about the secret meeting that had taken place 
with the lithe dark personage known as the Empress.  Let Angie try to 
figure out what to do with that.
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 1995 00:09:07 -0500 (CDT)
From: "Michael F. Overbo" <overbom@stolaf.edu>
Subject: Spam Wars: the Final conflict

Biirta looked out. Many people were against him; only a few people for 
him. One thing he knew; the Spam had to go. Baadu wondered whether he 
would live to see the end of it all. He had to do something; he just 
couldn't stand by while people were forced to eat Spam. He had spent many 
days following the spam source, until finally catching up to the huge 
Star Destroyer. He had been feeling many force disturbances, apparently 
the evil Admiral Angie was forcing many people to eat spam. This, Baadu 
knew, would seriously deplete her crew, and she'd have to replenish the 
fallen. That was when he wanted to strike, and that time was now. She was 
docked off Eco Draconis IV, and the CAP patrol was pretty sparse. Baadu 
charged up his shields, keyed the comm for standard rebel and imperial 
frequencies, and prepared a statement; summoning the dark power of the 
force as he did so. He felt the terrible rumblings of the force inside 
his belly; Baadu had actual fear. He had never used the force power to 
this scale before, and he wondered whether it would consume him. He spoke 
into the comm.
	"This is the Grey Jedi Master Biirta Baadu. Launch the spam away 
from the ship, this madness is going to stop once and for all. You see 
the energy storm out there, and it's going to consume your ship and 
everyone aboard if you don't comply." His voice was hard and cold, and he 
meant every word that he said.

Meanwhile, Admiral Angie had pulled out her Blaster and shot the Comm 
officer dead on the spot, out of sheer disgust. So close to the ultimate 
weapon, that could destroy the pitiful Rebellion once and for all. But 
she could not risk the Vegetarian; there were just too many lives at 
stake. She wondered if she could call his bluff, if he was indeed 
bluffing. She hoped to the Maker that he was.
	"I wonder if you can control that energy storm, Master Baadu. I 
expect not."

	All of a sudden, Tenandys flashed out of hyperspace, concussion 
missile tubes blazing. The ship rocked heavily, and Baadu definitely had 
fear. A robotic voice came over the comm.
	"Mr. Baadu, sir, I strongly suggest that you cease and desist, or 
you perhaps could be doomed." A YA-5 protocol droid, thought Baadu. At 
least his adversary had impeccable taste in droids. But there was no time 
to think about that, no time. His shield rating was down to 62% after the 
heavy fire, and still dropping; Biirta Baadu feared a power leakage; in 
which case his ass was grass. He hoped his sensor jamming system would 
cover it.
	"Sir, I notice your power signature is irregular, you are losing 
power. Were I not so versed in protocol, I would say that your human ass 
is proverbial Grass. But I'm just a protocol droid, really."

	Baadu cursed under his breath, but too low for the comlink to 
pick it up. He was perspiring heavily. He had been in tight spots before, 
but nothing like this ever before. Everybody was now against him; and he 
just didn't have the cards to back up the gamble. Gunner C's boat was 
lurking near the Vegetarian, his sensors told him. It was going to be a 
bad day. It took all of his will to speak, and yet concentrate on the 
energy storm to prevent it from consuming him.
	"Are you willing to take that chance? If I can, you're gone. The 
storm is moving closer to your ship, you might notice."

	The spam, in all of its hideousness, suddenly floated away from 
the Vegetarian. Baadu willed the energy to the spam, and watched it get 
consumed. He made sure his cameras were on, confirmed it, and set out for 
a secret backwater rendezvous point, known as Port Haven.

			         CONCLUSION

	Adol Larynth and Landon Darkwood were indeed rescued from their 
plight, by their adept Jedi friend. The Minas Tirith required over five 
hundred man-hours of work to repair. Rumor has it that the Minas Tirith 
required 81% of its hull to be restructured, and many electrical 
component systems had to be rebuilt or repurchased. Landon Darkwood 
thanked the Maker for his deep pockets.

	Admiral Angie and her Flagship Vegetarian were not seen or heard 
from again; it was speculated that the Spam contagion ran through her 
ship, causing madness. It was assumed that they made a random jump into 
hyperspace, killing the crew in the process. But that was all 
speculation... Gunner C. was also presumed lost; but this was never 
confirmed.

	Tenandys let the mercenary Jedi Baadu go. He didn't like the look 
of that force storm, and Baadu might just lose it in hyperspace, as his 
Matter/Antimatter coils were starting to overheat. Tenandys could just 
sit back and enjoy the show. He hoped so, anyway. His droid told him to 
go after Baadu, but Tenandys wouldn't listen to him. He should've, of 
course, because we all know that the YA-5 series put out by Yubyadub 
Robotic Labs is one of the best all-purpose droids out there. Especially 
the McMike class. Damn good droids, they are.

	Baadu was given his half of a million credits, and used it as a 
downpayment on the Yacht that Yubyadub courteously loaned him. He knew 
that the Spam was gone, at least for now. It was in another galaxy, far 
far away. Perhaps another dimension, he couldn't tell. But that didn't 
ease his mind. He had made a lot of powerful enemies, and his reward 
looked like a pittance, all of a sudden. He looked into that faraway 
place, and saw things that chilled him to the bone. People could buy spam 
at ordinary stores. What a powerful weapon to keep at a grocery store! 
The humans there must eithe be stupid or foolhardy. Some of them even ate 
spam willingly, and their souls cried out to him. Baadu was definitely 
troubled. He knew that Spam could never be gotten rid of. Even now, he 
felt the ominous presence of Spam Lite, rising to power. Always the 
balance, always the balance.
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 1995 01:30:16 -0400 (EDT)
From: Tenandys Qural <beattier@river.it.gvsu.edu>
Subject: Spam Wars:  Rest for the Wicked...

Epilogue:

Tenandys Qural relaxed on the bridge of his Skipray, looking out on the 
field of space where the climactic Spam battle had taken place.  He 
didn't quite know what to do - it had all ended so quickly.

The last Spam Uprising had dragged on for a while, slaughtering untold 
numbers of innocent bystanders.  Now it had all been resolved before the 
Empress had returned.  Truly scary, this.

He shook his head, reaching into the bridge fridge for a bottle of spiced 
ale from the brewery on Jaglan Beta.  He would have to think on all that 
had happened and try to understand where it would all go from here.

The future, he knew, was uncertain.  The Spam had been extinguished from 
the Galaxy, but for how long?  And when it finally returned, what would 
the consequences be?  It was too terrible to think on.

"McMike, plot a course for Kyan.  I must return to the hall of Elders and 
seek enlightenment."

"Like I care what you have to do there," came the surly reply.

"Hey, I thought you were a protocol droid."

"No, I'm a box under the copilot's chair, remember.  I might as well be a 
hydrospanner for what it matters."

Once on Kyan, he would speak with Luminare Veldtajin, Lord Rhalnacht.  
Perhaps he could shed some truth on things.

The stars became streaks as the hyperdrive kicked in, and Tenandys 
started to wonder why there had been an inflatable Mara in with his 
things anyway.

	Thus ends, truly, the second chapter of Spam Wars...

(Unless, of course, someone wants to throw in their own epilogues?)

[From the Files of Tenandys Qural, Jedi without an Inflatable Mara.]
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Fri, 11 Aug 1995 02:03:47 -0400 (EDT)
From: LOGAN1040@delphi.com
Subject: Gunner C. can survive any SPAM!

Gunner C, Galactic Adventurer, and part-time killer of jokes, drifted
in normal space.

His ship suffered massive damage, but, thank the force, was still running.

As his faithful astromech ran around re-wireing systems, Gunner contemplated
what just took place.

Spam was gone.  That was for sure.  Nothing, not even that hidous substance
could survive that Force Storm.  

What happened to the Vegitarian, he neither knew or cared.  After the
ambush Admiral Angie gave him, nothing was too bad for that ship! He was glad,
however, that the Jedi Tenandys finally got to do some real damage...

That other ship, the Yacht flown by the "Gray" Jedi.  That looked 
to have promise...

His mind made up, Gunner barked "OK, Teefour, as soon as we got the
hyperdrive, follow that Yacht.  Somplace called Port Haven, I think..."

<I appologize, but I just had to let everyone know, Gunner rode that just
fine, thank you.  I know many would have gone insane wondering...
;-)>
                                        Gunner C.
                                        Galactic Adventurer
---------------------------8<------------------------------------
Date: Tue, 15 Aug 1995 11:05:11 -0800
From: Bill Knight - De Oppresso Liber <ANWTK@acad2.alaska.edu>
Subject: Re: Spam Wars, chapter four, A New Spam

Colonel Mason looked over the intelligence reports in front.  Dozens
of them, all refering to Spam, pirate merchants, rogue jedi, psychopathic
adventures, and the dreaded, crazed, deadly, perverted beauty known
as Admiral Angie.  Mason jolted awake from the nap and pondered the
crazed thoughts he was thinking about.  With a shudder he rose from the
desk he had been slumped over and opened the briefing room's side door.
"Lieutenant Soulier, get me a beer.  A red and black one, or a some
orange stuff."  He snarled.  Slamming the door he stumbled back to the 
desk and plopped down.  The intelligence reports in his dream were
real and disgustedly he picked them up.  A sneer crossed his face.  Once
again he'd have to send troops in to clear things up.  Damn those the
independent rebels!  Always making more trouble for him.  Smacking the
com panel, he barked into it.  "Soulier, what's the little metal plug
we use for a spy?"
.
"R2F8 sir?"
.
"Yeah, that's him.  Program him for Spam survelliance.  We gotta do
something about these net romeo's running rampant with spam."
.
"Yes sir.  I'll see to it."
.
With a grunt, he slouched back into his chair and pondered what his next
line of drivel would be.  What cliched, tired, old line he'd have to 
type up.  With that thought running rampant in his mind, he picked up
the intell reports and began going over them again.
.
-Colonel Mason
(And his trusted confidant Bill)