When Winston Noble finally invented the alphacide death ray and under seemingly impossible enemy fire managelto em-loy it to wipe out the Alpha Aphids, he must have been the most popular man ever to live in the galaxy. Already a household word for his daring military genius, brave rescues and two-fisted courage, the invention and deployment of the alphacide ray had placed him securely in the forefront of historical personalities. He wiped the demonic, moraless Aphids right off the star charts with his initiative and just plain old fashioned down to earth he-man guts. And everyone in the milky way owed him for that. They owed him plenty.

His name was a problem, though. Too colorful to be familiar-- and while he was the big brother image,that name didn't seem to fit. Somehow he'd never gotten a pet name from the public, and that was a shame. A darned shame.

The intergalactic council, therefore, decided on a christening so the many peoples of the galaxy could feel at ease. A priliminary election was held and the names of various war heroes were placed upon ballots. These were accompanied by full decriptions of each hero-- his life history, and his part in the war against the Aphids. The winner would chose a name for Noble and everyone in the galaxy would use it-- heads of state, kings, emperors, and common folk alke. It was darned appropriate that one of the inlisted men would name the "old man."


At last the votes came in from ultralightagrams. Over loo billion of them. The winner: Brad Wittingsnack, a young chap from Hooper, Nebraska. The public had been charmed by his background and record. His real claim to fame occurred while he was a prisoner in an Alpha ship. He was on kitchen duty and made the *~~x wrong turn with the prisoners' leftover slop. Instead of shuting it into the garbage he tossediit into the molecular vacumn hold above the ship's engines. rthe slop hit some sensitive Nurkron crystals and there was one...heck...of an explosion. To make a long story short, Brad escaped with his life and the laundry lady found a piece of microfilm thatthat had somewhere along the line fallen into the cuff of his trousers. That film was important. Darned important. The public thought this was the perfect example of the stumblebum pulling through and of the punk kid from Nebraska turning all man. He won by a large margin.

Lights were set up. A hundred cameras stared down at Brad. Billions of people waited to hear the choice he had made. Could it be 'Smoking Winston" or "Null-A Noble?" What?

Winston Noble stood comfortably next to a visibly shaken Brad Wittingsnack. There was a hushed silence after a short and respectful speech by the emperor of the galaxy. Then came the long-awaited moment.

"You sure I won?" asked Brad.

"We're sure," smiled Winston Noble. "How would you like me to be known by the peoples of the galaxy?"

Brad hesitated.

Winston Noble smiled again. Infinitely confident and radiating great power and good goodness, he put a hand on Brad's boney shoulder. "Go on, little fellow." he said gently.

"You sure?" repeated Brad, nervously.

"We're sure." smiled the greatest hero of all time.

Brad shrugged. "Okay, Buckwheat."