Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 6
                         Side Stories - ch. 1

Date: Sat, 20 Nov 1999 11:04:53 -0800 (PST)
Subject: AAE SO: Little Starfleet Has Lost iI's Sheep, But Someone
Knows Where to Find Them...

On Sat, 20 Nov 1999 11:40:05 -0600
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00007976

     The ebony wedge of a ship stalked the inky blackness of space, a
black cat in the shadows, both trying to avoid detection. This was
Borg space, the Delta Quadrant. The ship passing through at speeds
that would put a Borg Cube to shame had a name, but it wasn't
advertised on the side. It's owner had had a dream however, during the
design phase, of the black wedge metamorphing into a black feline of
his acquaintance, a companian of his at one time. The ship was named
after that cat's nickname, the _Feline_God_.
     Mike leaned back in the ergonomic pilot's couch, the interior of
the cabin as black as the exterior. Even the controls. Black buttons
that lit up with black light. A joke, he knew, in honor of that
hitchhiker mystique he had cultivated in his early jaunts with the
Army of Light, before they were the Army of Light, in fact.
     He smiled. It sort of fit, however, the Technomage mystique as
well. They were as much descended from 20th century UNIX wizards and
electronics hobbyists as any religious order. Well, those who came
from Earth were. And Douglas Adams was as much a part of that culture
as any.
     And wouldn't the Technomages disapprove of what he was doing now.
So would the Vorlons and Time Lords. Even Starfleet's Golden Rule was
being broken. He found a bit of perverse pleasure in that. He was
involving himself in human affairs, publicly, affecting their
development. He was out to save them from catastrophe. And one of the
ways he was going to do that was by rescuing a lost crew who had more
in-depth knowledge of the Borg than anyone. Well, one of them did,
anyway.
     Mike chuckled. There was definitely an exhilieration to this.
     "Alright, so, I'm breaking the Prime Directive, by interfering in
the development of Starfleet's own culture. That's something like
irony in and of itself. The Technomages forbid extensive contact with
the outside world, not that I'd ever wanted to be a monk. Well, not
once I re-re-re-discovered girls when I met Flarn. The Vorlons would
have said 'no' to this, certainly, though their rules are as material
as they are out of their encounter suits. And the Time Lords, well,
they did have something like the Prime Directive, though, I'm not
giving humanity time-travel technology, that's for sure. They'll have
to develop that on their own."
     Mike laced his fingers behind his head. "Breaking the law, my
conditioning, and probably the speed limit in this part of space.
Definitely cause for celebration. Computer, music."
     The cabin filled with the James Bond theme and Mike's laughter.
     "Good choice!"
=================================
Date: Tue, 30 Nov 1999 20:37:26 -0800 (PST)
Subject: AAE SO: Silicon Simon

On Tue, 30 Nov 1999 09:01:22 -0600
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00008012

     "Don't drink, don't smoke,
     What do you do then?
     Goody-Two, Goody-Two-"
     Mike smacked the off button on the ship's audio and sat back with
the frown. "That's the trouble with multiversal travel, all the song
lyrics change. Either that, or that Ferengi ripped me off. Probably
the latter."
     "Computer, dump current music database in favor of one downloaded
from Starfleet music archives. We'll start from scratch then."
     "Time to completion: twelve hours."
     Michael Seven sat back and looked out the front windows of his
technomage ship. The _Feline_God_ was passing through a thick nebula.
There'd probably be a new solar system or seven where this cloud was
eventually. It was a colorful setting. And totally boring.
     Mike felt his eyelids drooping as he stared out the cockpit
window.

     The lance was heavy in his gauntleted hand, technomancy glyphs
etched all over its surface. Glowing patterns of circuitry traced
toward the tip that glowed white hot before his eyes. His armor
shimmered and rippled around him. He spurred on his black robotic
steed, and it leaped forward, hooves thundering across the starry
void.
     Something appeared like a vanishing point in the distance, dark
gray against the black background of infinity. He knew what it was and
spurred his horse onward, superheated particles blowing in blue clouds
from his mount's nostrils.
     The dragon was enormous, dark grey components shifting and
writhing over it's ten mile long form. Wings spread, snakeing head
outstretched, tail snapping out like a whip behind it, sitting on its
rear haunchs, its forelegs in the air. The entire form carved from a
Borg cube.
     He gave a wordless battlecry to the void and charged. The dragon
reared back and let loose a breath of green disruptor fire and black
nanoprobe smoke. He raised his forcefield shield arm too late, the
last thing he saw were the dragon's glowing optics, one blue, one
brown.

     Michael Seven awoke with a jerk as the proximity sensors went off
in the ship. The dream fading almost immediately from his mind as he
looked to the sensors.
     There was a ship out there. A big one at that. His own vessel was
the length of the old tractor-trailer freight trucks he remembered on
the interstate highways as a boy. By comparison, this vessel's four
engines were each the size of one of the World Trade Center buildings
and were attached to six stacks of 20 astrodomes lined up in a
hexagonal pattern. On the opposite end was the Sydney Opera House, its
arching roof pointed out towards space.
     Well, maybe that was taking the metaphor too far, but it was
close enough if you were in that frame of mind to begin with.
     As no one seemed to care that he was there, or more aptly, no one
was home to care, Mike found a docking bay in the rear of the ship and
piloted his craft inside. He registered an artificial gravity field in
the vessel and had to orient the ship appropriately so the bay door
was set in the floor and he was rising up through it.
=================================
Date: Fri, 31 Mar 2000 16:38:57 -0800 (PST)
Subject: AAE (Side Story): Silicon Simon (Conclusion)

On Fri, 31 Mar 2000 17:59:38 -0600
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00008352

<OOC: I'd started this story some time ago, but had accidently posted
before it was finished. This picks up right where I left off. The
original was called "Silicon Simon" and is on the CAoL web site...
somewhere. :) Not sure when it will be concluded; soon, I hope; but at
least this one has more of a cliffhanger ending instead of just a
ho-hum one. And this isn't a teaser for AAE7, just the continuation of
Michael's side adventure with the Borg Nanovirus. I've got something
more amusing in mind for AAE7.>

     Mike brought the _Feline_God_ into proper orientation for the
docking bay's artificial gravity and landed the black technomage
craft. He made a quick check over the environmental controls;
breathable atmosphere, temperature 15 degrees Celcius, gravity 9
meters per second per second; and grabbed a light, red and yellow
Chiefs windbreaker from a drawer to throw on over his purple hawaiian
shirt. Slipping on some fleece tie-dyed socks Tink had made for him in
school several years ago and a pair of sandals, Mike tugged his blue
jeans cuffs down and looked at himself in his cabin's thin full length
mirror. He rubbed his recently shaven chin and smirked at himself.
     "Oh yeah, the picture of a 24th century space explorer."
     Mike dropped lightly down the boarding stairs, slinging a slim
duffel bag over a shoulder, and looked around the empty docking bay.
He glanced up and saw a second and third docking level above him. The
exit to space was only guarded by a forcefield, hopefully well
maintained, though he suddenly wondered about that as no one seemed to
care that he was here. He should have packed a better tricorder.
     "Oh well, didn't plan to investigate ghost ships when I came out
this way."
     He walked over near the forcefield and noticed the gravity
lighten drasticly. He leapt up and forward, out over the forcefield,
which, as he suspected, didn't possess a gravity generator for that
portion of the bay. Thus free of the annoying pest of a force pulling
him down, Michael sailed up to the second floor and passed into the
gravity field at the opposite side of that bay.
     Mike landed with the force one would expect from a five foot drop
and looked around this second, unempty bay. He whistled.
     "Somebody's got good taste in cars."
     He was surrounded by what, in this time, would be considered
antique 20th century automobiles. There were several 90-something
Dodge Ram trucks, farming equipment from John Deere and Case IH,
several Jeeps and Humvees, four Tracker fishing boats and two speed
boats, a couple Winnebagos, and a dozen Harley Davidson motorcycles.
The third story was just as full, with a pair of red Mack trucks and
cattle trailers in addition to the usual items. Also, set in the
ceiling was a square large enough to fill the bay doorway. Apparently,
a freight elevator able to raise and lower all this stuff in and out
of the ship.
     Mike spotted a door in the corner on the third floor and went to
investigate. A sealed airlock, like one might find on a submarine.
Artificial gravity next to twentieth century technology?
     "Something's wrong here," Michael muttered to himself, then,
"Yeah, duh, state the obvious."
     Opening the airlock revealed a small room with a door in the
opposite side. A red light was glowing. Mike closed the airlock behind
him and the room light changed to yellow, then was replaced by light
from the floor as four long tubes began to glow a deep violet color.
The smell of antiseptic was almost overwhelming as air was forced into
the chamber.
     The tube lights crawled up tracks in the corners of the walls as
Mike's form went from underlit to overlit, then dropped back to the
floor as the status light turned green and the other door opened.
     Mike stepped through the doorway, "I guess I'm free of
comtaminants."
     The room beyond was an elevator that reminded Mike of a pneumatic
cannister. Round, with a solid ceiling and floor and glass all around.
Glass doors, Mike realized, four of them, with four supports that each
held twenty buttons, except for the door opening onto the room he came
from, which had twenty three, the last three sectioned off below the
twenty, the topmost of those final three was lit white. There was a
card swipe on the door facing behind him, above the buttons there.
     "Twenty of those Astrodome pod things per column, four columns,
plus the docking bay three floors high." Mike spun back to look at the
cardswipe. "Bridge access for authorized personnel only, I'd warrent.
So, that plus the farming equipment in the docking bay would make me
think I've stumbled on a colony ship. But other than that scan in the
airlock, where is everyone? You'd think a ship like this had some sort
of security system."
     Mike pressed the topmost button on the door in front of him, the
glass slid closed and he felt the slight jerk as the elevator moved
upward. Suddenly, Mike saw why he was in a glass elevator, the tube it
went through was also some sort of glass. Mike had a 360 degree view
of the ship and the empty space around it.
     "Whoa, classy."
     The elevator continued upward rapidly, finally stopping on the
top floor. The glass door opened and Mike stepped out. He noticed a
floorplan on his right and looked it over. The lowest levels were the
docking bays, then live stock, hydroponics, and living quarters. The
bridge was indeed on top, segregated by that cardswipe.
     Continuing down the hallway into the topmost pod itself, Mike was
again struck by the pristine nature of the place. No dust, no tarnish,
perfectly sanitary. He found a door on his left that read "Captain's
Quarters." As he attempted to slide it open, finding it locked, he
noticed a buzzing behind him. Turning, he saw a small machine that
looked like an oversized scrubbing bubble, a plactic dome sitting atop
a ring of bristles with a pair of electronic eyes inside. There was a
pair of caps on top and two chambers with what looked like they might
be cleaning solutions inside.
     Mike observed the scrubbing bubble zigzag out a doorway and down
the corridor toward him. At the captain's door, it stopped and chirped
a musical tone. The door opened and it zigzagged it's way inside. Mike
stepped in after it.
     No one was home. Michael looked around the place, and spotted on
the dresser a card with the captain's picture and a magnetic strip. It
apparently clipped on and was meant as id and bridge access in one. He
picked it up and went to the door, which opened this time as he
approached, leaving the little robot to its floor cleaning.
     Mike returned to the elevator and swiped the card through the
lock. The elevator moved up to the bridge. The door opened onto a
massive room that reminded Mike of a NASA control room, circa 20th
century. Like the rest of the ship, it was empty.
     A voice announced in English, "Captain on the bridge."
     Mike entered and looked around the room. Very light security
here, probably mostly relying on humans and trust. Sitting down in
front of what looked to be the central terminal, he looked over the
GUI.
     "Now, what happened to you, ship?" Mike muttered.
     "Voice print not recognized," a thoroughly synthesized voice
said, one that reminded Michael Seven of Joshua in the movie, "War
Games." The voice continued, "Please insert security card to redefine
voice print."
     Mike did so and got in reply, "Greetings, Captain Miller, please
repeat after me: The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain."
     Mike did that, and in five minutes was thoroughly in command of
the vessel, down to having a new security card printed for "Captain
Michael Seven."
     "Now, Simon," the new captain said, using the new access name
he'd just given the computer, "what happened to the crew?"
     "Unknown inquery. Please redefine question."
     "When was the last computer inquery made?"
     "January 12th, 2001."
     "Display last log."
     A projection screen lit up showing a view of the bridge, Captain
Miller, the owner of the security card Mike found, sitting at the same
console Mike was. Miller, a sandy-haired Australian, made his report
to an empty bridge, showing battle damage that was now fully repaired.
     "That Sheila, Seven, she's gone and done it now. She let them
things, the Borg, on board! The bastards have assimilated the entire
crew, that evil witch included! I don't know when or if Earth'll find
us. Hell, I'da rather stayed and faced the nukes on Y2K day than lose
myself to that collective. I'm making my last stand here. Stay away
from this part of the galaxy! It's too dangerous!"
     "Stop playback! Who is Seven?"
     "Two names appear in ship's roster. Captain Michael Seven and
Ship's Engineer Michelle Seven."
     Mike sat there, stunned, but finally worked up the nerve, "Show
me Michelle Seven."
     The profile came up on screen and Michael just stared at it.
There was no mistaking that face. It was once his. The face he wore
when the Time Lords forced him to regenerate, but so badly damaged his
DNA that the result came out of the process looking like the sister he
never had. It was the face he saw again as the Time Lords used what
few live cells were left to clone a copy of him, then twisted it into
an insane monster. The one who destroyed incalcuable lives trying to
get to him and every universe's alternate of him. The one who
destroyed his entire family, who he had though safely locked away on
an ancient, far-flung world where she could never do harm to anyone
again.
     It was Voyd. And somehow, she'd escaped.

<To Be Continued... oh, like you didn't know that was coming. :)>
=================================
Date: Mon, 3 Apr 2000 20:09:28 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: AAE: (Side Story): The Rescue (Part One)

On Mon, 3 Apr 2000 19:11:08 -0500
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00008357

     Michael learned from Simon, the ship's computer, that the impulse
drive had actually been a warp drive in disguise, but the trip out to
the delta quadrant would have taken a few hundred years. However,
inside the ship, the trip had only seemed to take a year. Michael
traced this discrepancy to a fault, probably planned, in the
generation of the warp field.
     Only able to speculate as to why this was the case, he left the
ship, there being nothing he could do for it except mark it's point on
the charts and send someone back for it later. Setting course again to
search the Delta Quadrant, Michael sat in the pilot's couch, lost in
thought. Voyd would have to be handled, but he didn't like the options
he saw on how to do it.
     With Voyd as part of the Borg Collective, the Borg nanovirus's
resemblance to the nanotech virus that hit Babylon 5's earth in 2266
suddenly made a great deal more sense. Further, he now knew why
something in the back of his mind had been trying to tell him he was
involved. Indirectly, he had been. The circuit design imprinted on the
Borg nanoprobes was similar to that of the Gateway katana's nanites.
     Michael was suddenly thankful he had sought out the Technomages
to learn to break that katana's hold on him. With that and what he
learned from Nemisis's nanotech-equipped hovercycle, he should be able
to irradicate the virus by inserting an antidote into the Borg
Collective.
     That was the part he didn't like. In order to succeed, he was
going to have to not only invade the Borg Collective, but take over
their Queen. And while he had a few ideas on how to do that, untried
as they were, he had thought them up long ago, so Voyd knew them as
well, which meant the Borg knew them.
     He needed something Voyd didn't have. He could ask the
Callahanian Army of Light to help, but knew the price to their morale
would be disastrous at fighting what was once a member of their own.
Well, no, that wasn't true, there was Squee, who'd turned on them
all... so no, the morale of the Callahaners wasn't what he was worried
about, at the source. He was afraid -he'd- flinch when the time came
to act, not them. But she was a problem he felt he must conquer on his
own.
     "Voyd is everything I've ever feared in my own self. The idea of
my mind, snapping like a dry twig, finally, after the right pressure
was applied to it. And, knowing that, I'd fear she'd do it to me, just
to exact her revenge on the multiverse. Yet, if I don't face that
fear, I'll never conquer it."
     His long-range sensors went off then, having picked up the real
reason he was out here, the Federation Starship Voyager. They wouldn't
pick him up for another hour, he had better get ready.
     This introduction was going to be interesting.

     An hour later, on the bridge of the _Voyager_, Harry Kim was
drumming his fingers quietly on the console in front of him. Tuvok
observed him from his own station.
     "Ensign," Tuvok began, "If that repetitive gesture you are making
is an indication of boredom with your duties, I feel certain I could
arrange something requiring a greater amount of your attention."
     "Sorry, sir, it's just that we haven't seen a ship in weeks and
I'm starting to miss the excitement that causes."
     "Well, Harry," Tom Parris called from his station, "Looks like
your wish has been granted. I'm detecting what looks to be some sort
of shuttle on long range sensors on an intercept course."
     Chakotay stood up, "Captain to the bridge."

     Mike, rising from the flight couch, pressed a button and opened a
hailing frequency. With a smirk, he said to the approaching ship,
{"Federation Starship _Voyager_, my name is Michael Seven, of the
planet Earth. Could I interest any of you in a ticket back to the
Alpha Quadrant?"}
     There was a momentary pause, then Captain Janeway appeared on the
small screen in front of him.
     {I'm Captain Katherine Janeway. That's... quite an introduction.}
     Michael Seven smiled, {"I imagine it must be. Permission to dock
as soon as your scans are complete?"}
     Onscreen, Janeway glanced over her shoulder to what must have
been Tuvok's station, then back, {Permission granted.}
     {"Excellent,"} Michael said, {"I look forward to meeting you and
your crew."}
     Docking the _Feline_God_ in the _Voyager's_ shuttlebay was
uneventful. Michael, still in 20th century garb, strolled out into the
shuttlebay to meet the crew. He knew already who each was, but
attempted to hide that fact. There were two faces he had particularly
hoped to see, but Seven of Nine and Naomi Wildman were not to be
found. He began to wonder if he'd somehow misgauged and arrived before
the one-time Borg became part of the crew.
     "A pleasure to meet you all," Mike said, "Captain, if I may, I'd
like to meet with you in private, along with your-" He almost said
'EMH', but caught himself in time, "-Chief Medical Officer. We'll meet
everyone and share the good news as soon as that's done."
     Janeway assented and the pair went to the Captain's Ready Room
where the EMH was already waiting. Michael started off the
conversation.
     "First, let me assure you I can have you back in less than a
month. We'll need to do some work on your engines and such, but it
shouldn't take too long."
     Janeway nodded, "So what can't the crew hear about that?"
     Mike gestured to her desk chair, "Have a seat," then paced for a
moment, before saying, "You won't be able to enter the atmosphere,
beam down, or otherwise come in contact with Earth. The reason is
this..."
     And Michael went into the long and technical story behind the
Borg nanovirus, only leaving out the actual source of the virus and
his plans about it, since A) neither fact was truly material, he felt
and B) he hoped to come up with a better solution. One that wouldn't
involve the tricky problem of avoiding assimilation in the attempt of
implanting the antidote.
     He concluded with, "I don't know how to explain all that to your
crew, which is why I wanted to explain it to you as well as your
doctor first."
     Janeway thought for a few moments on the matter. "I'll have to
give it some thought. But, with us back in the Alpha Quadrant, we can
help find a cure. I think that's the approach I'll have to use."
     Michael Seven nodded, not being experienced with the crew at all.
     The doctor offered, "It might boost morale for those working on
the engine upgrades as well as the ship at large if the science staff
began work on a way to treat this virus. We're going to want to start
work on a cure as soon as we return anyway, may as well be ahead of
the curve."
     Mike nodded, "I'll need to tie my ship's systems into yours,
anyway, the data you'll need to get started is there."
     Janeway stood up, "Well, I imagine the rumors of your arrival are
already flying. Let's give the crew the facts before their hopes get
too out of hand."
     The captain did, Michael explaining before the engineering staff
how they were going to get home, and before the science staff what
they'd be doing once they got there. The hours wore on, hundreds of
questions were asked on both sides of the proverbial podium, Mike
asking as many as any of them. He had to learn just where they were
with regard to slipstream technology as well as how much they knew
about the Borg.
     The latter topic was where he finally got his first look at Seven
of Nine. It was her insiders information he needed most, and the
primary reason for his trip. With her and the Captain's permission,
they reviewed Seven's withdrawal process from the collective. He also
discovered she had no idea of where the Borg nanovirus had come from,
which to them both implied it had been discovered in only the last two
years.
     For _Voyager_, Michael's arrival was at the start of the day,
with the engineering meetings taking up the first half of it, then a
break, and the meetings about the Borg filled the second. It was
twenty-three hundred ship's time when he finished tying his computer
systems into the ship's and midnight before he finally threw up some
privacy wards, of the technomage variety, around his room and tried to
get to sleep.
=================================
Date: Tue, 4 Apr 2000 20:39:59 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: AAE: (Side Story): The Rescue (Part Two)

On Tue, 4 Apr 2000 22:18:30 -0500
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00008363

     Seven of Nine strode purposely through the corridors of the ship,
as was her custom in all things. This morning, however, she was going
to meet their mysterious benefactor, Mr. Seven. Seven had tried a
search through Voyager's database, but had found no record of the
name.
     As she neared the hallway where Michael Seven was staying, she
saw a small shape in the shadow of an alcove. She stopped and
addressed the figure.
     "Naomi Wildman, what is your purpose here?"
     The young Wildman peered around the corner at Seven, then blushed
sheepishly.
     "I wanted to see him," she said, "Everyone else has. People say
he's like something out of the 20th century."
     Seven replied, "His apparel is dated, but he is otherwise like
any other human that I have observed."
     Naomi continued to look toward the hallway toward Michael's
quarters. Seven considered the child for a moment.
     "Come," the older woman said finally, "I am going to meet him.
You can see for yourself he is an ordinary human."

     Michael was up early. He had an appointment at ten with Seven of
Nine to start work on redesigning the ship's engines, but that wasn't
what had him awake so early. The question of what to do about Voyd had
plauged his thoughts all night.
     He had had another dream, this one inside a Borg Cube. He stood
on a catwalk staring down the length of the ship, in the distance was
Voyd. There was a wind sweeping up from beneath him, for some reason,
he was dressed like the Shadow, red scarf, slouch hat, cape billowing
behind him. In his mind was the antivirus.
     In the dream, the Borg were blocked from reaching him by some
form of shield they couldn't adapt to. They called to him, the
Collective, but he felt no draw to them. The antivirus flowed down his
arm and into his hand into a thunderbolt. He flung the bolt down into
the pit beneath him and it spread up the catwalks around him on all
sides. As it did, the Borg froze in place, their insistant voice
silenced.
     Shadow-Michael leapt across the gap between Voyd and took her in
his arms. She struggleed violently, then was still as he bit into her
neck. He sucked something bitter from the wound, then touched her face
with his off hand as if he were performing some sort of mindmeld. The
lens on his wrist flared into polychromatic life and surged up his
hand into Voyd.
     Her eyes, which looked vacant before, regained their focus and
she smiled at him and asked "Who am I?"
     He was about to answer when he woke up.
     Michael was sweating a cold sweat, half in fear of something in
his dream, half thrilled by it. He hadn't used that kind of mental
power in ages. He despised it, the very idea of creeping around in
another person's mind.
     Sitting there in the dark, he prodded his feelings about it now.
He had lost those abilities after his death, the point where his life
diverged from Voyd. Or had he?
     He got out of bed, got himself cleaned up for that morning's
meeting while he thought. If he hadn't lost those abilities, he'd have
to go digging for them, they wouldn't be at the surface just waiting
for him.
     He frowned at the clock. He hadn't even been asleep an hour.
Well, he wasn't going to get any until he'd sorted himself out.
     He had to put his past behind him, and there was only one way to
do that. Face it, or more aptly, what memories he had of it. He
thought he'd done some horrible things in his day, but often found
others disagreeing with his self-image. So, if so many saw something
he didn't see, maybe it was time he looked honestly at himself.
     Sitting down in the middle of the floor in just a pair of pants,
he adopted a lotus position with a mild bit of effort, closed his eyes
and relaxed his mind.
     [These dreams are guiding me somehow, making me see things
differently. I can feel they're right, but there's so much making me
disbelieve it. Why? Somewhere in here is the key to the Borg nanotech
virus, the solution for Voyd, maybe even the original Michael Seven,
that spirit I've always been looking for, but there are so many
imprints on my mind, so much stuff that I didn't put there, or buried
with other things that I thought more rational, more logicial, more
practical, more sensible, more realistic, it's like looking for a
needle in a planet-sized haystack. What I need is a top-down,
brainstorm with flash flood warnings that'll wash away all the garbage
between my ears that's stopping me from doing the things I know in my
heart and soul are right and correct.]
     He set aside the imprints of family, Tink, Melissa and Grep,
Molly, Mom and Dad. They were all people he loved, but needed to see
what was underneath them. After holding it in mis mind's eye for a few
minutes, he set Flarn aside, too. These were to be saved, but
somewhere out of the way, so he could work without distraction.
     As he set them aside, he uprooted guilt over their deaths and the
inability to save them. Their deaths were not his fault, though! He
was as thoroughly taken by surprize as any of them! He had no reason
to feel this way! Lay the blame where it belonged, dammit!
     Guilt was uprooted and thrown bodily out. They died. It was sad.
There was nothing to be done. Time to heal that patch.
     Michael moved on down.
     The Seventh Doctor. His thoughts double helixed, they had been in
his mental DNA even after they had been removed from his physical
body. He didn't need to think like the Doctor, that was the Doctor's
job. He needed to think like Michael Seven. The Doctor's influence he
removed completely from the mental landscape. It had been an
interesting perspective, but too heartbreaking by half. Time to forge
a pair of rose-colored glasses instead. Do the right thing and damn
the consequences.
     The Gateway katana and it's influence. The psychological scars
were still there, which meant there was still an imprint. He removed
those utterly. His mind was his own. No artificial construct, no
ancient psychological programming, would wear his will down again. He
was free to do whatever he pleased. Draw strength from the memory
instead, he'd withstood worse.
     Dhyrclhanc. That ice-blue mental image that represented the
mini-lens and all those on it. He put that aside to be saved with his
thoughts of family. There was some sense of duty, of responsibility,
underneath. No, that didn't belong with family, except as aspects of
love and friendship. You did things for family because you wanted to,
not because you had to.
     He recalibrated that, putting things in proper perspective then
moved lower.
     The Vorlons and Shadows, those were more insidious. He'd have to
work on those. An influence here, a compulsion there. He sifted, dug,
detached, and unlocked by instinct. Was that thought really his? No.
Then it had to go. He gathered all the influence together and looked
on it as a whole.
     [Leave this place, now,] he thought, [Get the hell out of my
head.] Then he threw that programming aside.
     The Time Lords. Every bit as insidious as the Vorlons and
Shadows, with longer to work. Their influence ran deep. Michael dove
into it, as far as he could reach, then pushed himself further.
     [I fought as best I could. I didn't know I had the fortitude
before, but I do know now. You have no hold over me.]
     Mike dug deep, uprooting things he never knew were there,
everything he found with a Time Lord feel he threw out whole. Rules,
compultions, geas, whatever term one chose, it was there and it wasn't
by his choice. He yanked, shoved, flung, and broke those bonded parts,
then, like all the other things, brought it under the harsh light of
his true self and dissected it, watching it crumble away into
nothingness as he did.
     When he could find nothing that was not him, he realized he was
done. He let himself float there, a warm current carrying him upward,
everything felt clean and new, crystal clear, brilliantly blue, like a
brilliant white sand beach, with pale blue water and deep blue sky. He
float there at the surface, finding those memories of family and
friends greeting him like tropical sunshine, and a clarity of thought
like a cool breeze.
     His mind felt opened there like it never had before, unencumbered
by thought in a way he'd never felt before. He couldn't even analyse
it, it would have destroyed the openess, like a popping soap bubble.
He held that state of utter emptiness, or rather did nothing and it
just existed of its own accord.

     Seven of Nine pressed the call button, but there was no answer.
     After a few tries, Naomi asked, "Has he left already?"
     "Computer, current location of Michael Seven."
     "Michael Seven is in his quarters."
     Seven tapped a few keys on the doorpad, hacking into the simple
encryption system and opening the door. As the pair, entered, Seven
bumped into what felt vaguely elastic. The air seemed to ripple before
her eyes where she had impacted.
     Naomi pointed beyond to Michael Seven. "Look, Seven!"
     Seven of Nine looked and frowned.
     Michael Seven was floating in the lotus position a few inches
above the floor, a brilliant polychromatic glow shining from his left
wrist. His eyes snapped open as Naomi called for Seven's attention
and, concentration broken, he landed heavily on his backside. The glow
from his wrist vanished at the same instant his eyes opened.
     "Oh, uh, hi, that time already?" Michael said, a bit embarrassed,
as well as thrilling at what he'd just experienced. That sort of thing
could get addictive in all sorts of good ways. He trew on a black mock
turtleneck that matched his slacks and a pair of black slip-on
loafers. What time was it? 10:05? He'd been sitting there for 8 hours,
but it felt like eight minutes, eight seconds, even.
     Seven put a finger to the forcefield and observed the rippling,
"What is this forcefield, where is it's generator?"
     Michael grinned and waved a hand as if sweeping something away.
The rippling vanished.
     "Just a simple personal forcefield and sound barrier. Forgot it
was still on." He smiled at Naomi. "Hello, I'm Mike, who are you?"
     The little girl smiled and snapped to attention sharply, "Naomi
Wildman, Captain's Assistant."
     Michael did likewise and saluted, which the girl returned, "A
pleasure. Shall we be on our way?"
     Seven asked, "When we entered, you were floating in air, and
there was a glowing, convex disk on your wrist. Another forcefield?"
     "Uh, yeah," Michael said, thankful for the excuse, "For
meditation purposes." He actually couldn't explain either of those
things, the first in no way, the second out of prudence. How does one
explain the mini-lens?
     But, having placated, probably all too temporarily, the
curiousity of his two escorts, the threesome headed for the
engineering deck.
=================================
Date: Sat, 15 Apr 2000 07:08:42 +0000
Subject: AAE (Side Story): The Rescue (Part Three)

On Sat, 15 Apr 2000 01:02:53 -0500
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00008371

     "I don't get this waveform," Lt. Torres said, scowling at her
panel, "how are we going to maintain a steady field with these
fluctuations in it?"
     Mike looked over her shoulder, "Easy, those fluctuations
compensate for the fluctuations within the slipstream." He snatched a
pair of long-handled crescent wrenchs from a passing engineer and
began drumming a stacato on the railing around the warp core.
     "Bap-ata-bap-ata-bap, that's the turbulance you found while in
the slipstream. What that field does is counteract the turbulance.
Now, you hold onto the opposite end and stop me from drumming."
     B'lana obliged, if only to get rid of the shrill clanking, but
countered with, "But that's not nearly as complex as reality. I've
been working on those field equations for months."
     Mike nodded, "I know that, and your equations were almost there
anyway, I just nudged them in the right direction. Here," he added,
reaching over the console and activating a three-dee model of the
ship, "There's the old equations in action... rough ride there. Now,
watch with these new equations."
     The virtual Voyager's rough travel smoothed out on the screen,
and her speed increased. Mike looked at Torres.
     "Think it'll work?" he said with a grin. He knew who he had to
convince and she was looking the settings over extremely carefully.
     B'lana nodded slowly. "Yeah...it'll work at that."
     Michael smiled. "Then let's start making those modifications."

     Over the next couple nights, Mike didn't dream anything that he
could recall the next morning. Every morning, he also attempted to
recapture that pleasureable, effortless, empty feeling he had found
accidently during his mental "spring cleaning", with increasing
success.
     On the third night, Mike was awoken by the door chime and a
child's giggle outside his door. Getting up, he went out into the
corridor.
     Standing in the hallway of _Voyager_, he heard the sound of the
child giggling again. He followed it through a maze of elevators and
passages until finally arriving in front of a holodeck.
     The door slid open to reveal the interior of a Borg Cube.
Standing in the entrance was Voyd, again as the Borg Queen. She leapt
for him with a scream and they grappled in the hallway. She raked him
with metal claws many times, he punched her with all his body behind
the blow on several occasions.
     "Hold her still!" a child's voice called. Mike was trying to
already, but quit concentrating on attacking and solely on defense and
holding. Both looked toward the voice as they continued struggling to
see a small boy. Both recognized him.
     Round face, brown hair with hightlights of red and blonde,
pouting lips, eyebrows that made him look mad, one blue eye, one
brown. He looked like Mike as a child.
     The boy ran over and grabbed Voyd as she was raising a clawed
fist to smash into Michael Seven's face and tried to pull her off from
on top of him. But, what he pulled away was semi-transparent, a ghost
of Voyd, and the child was getting the better of her.
     Voyd's body didn't move from it's poised attack, but shuddered as
Michael held it. He looked between the child with the Ghost-Voyd and
the real thing. Once the ghost was subdued, the boy drew a phaser and
blasted the Borg wraith.
     Voyd's body went limp.
     from his prone position, Michael asked, "Who are you?"
     The boy grinned, "I'm you."
     Mike blinked, "But, how can you be me?"
     The child ran at Voyd's limp form, poised over Michael, and keapt
into it. Voyd came back to life and smiled a childish grin.
     "Because you're still asleep," The child's voice said through
Voyd's mouth.

     Mike woke up with a start. He sighed and tossed off the covers,
now wide awake yet again before his wakeup call.
     "I really wish I wouldn't do that," he muttered, getting up and
deciding since he couldn't sleep to try meditation again. If nothing
else, perhaps he'd relax enough to nod off again.
     As he cleared his mind and drifted off, a part of him noticed
there seemed to be some direction to the drifting. He decided to
follow it as it dove deep inside his mind.
     His dream. What did it mean? Voyd on _Voyager_. He and Voyd
struggling here on the ship. She'd come to him, he realized. She'd
know he was in the Delta Quadrant. She wouldn't just abandon a ship.
She'd want to know who found it.
     Voyd had the personality of a Borg Queen. She wouldn't be any
drone. She wouldn't run off to her death, either. She was preparing
for revenge. And he'd be her first stop. She'd come for him first.
     The boy, that was him. He tore something out of Voyd and
destroyed it. Whatever made her her. Then he took it's place. Death of
personality, that was what they called it in Flarn's Bablyon 5
universe. Could he do that? His subconscious seemed to be saying so.
So, a purely mental attack? It was possible for some people, but not
for him.
     It used to be, though. What if it wasn't an outside influence, or
outside conditioning? What if he had it all along? He had to reason
this out.
     The Time Lords had made his genetic code perfect. No. Dad's was
perfect for a human as well. And now that he thought on it, so was
Mom's. Voyd's body was, after all, so hers and his had to be. So, what
had the Time Lords added? The regeneration gland. Some hardware and
some mental conditioning. That was all.
     Okay, if the ability was in him all along, it would logically
have been passed on. Molly was an impressive telepath. She didn't
believe it, but that trait ran in the family. And in fact, the more he
muddied the genetic code, the worse he got at telepathy.
     Alright, so logically, it wasn't induced from outside, it was
latent, just waiting for a trigger. So, when he had used it, what had
he done?
     Michael focused on a memory, in Arcadia, in the castle, he'd
convinced a pair of guards they were one step ahead of two massive
fireballs. Sure, he'd been going the wrong way at the
time....neverming, he reprimanded himself. So, what had he done?
     Perceiving someone passing his quarters, he reached out to that
unseen person and tried to convince them the path was blocked with a
security forcefield with a message just beyond that said "Security
Training area, do not enter."
     The passerby stopped a bit past the door, his jaunty tune stopped
midnote and turning into a slightly surprised, "Oh!", turned on a
heel, and headed back.
     Mike realized he needed more of a test. As the passerby, who Mike
had never met, but suddenly realized was named Gary, passed his door,
Mike convinced Gary the door had opened and Michael stood there.
     "Oh, hello," Gary said.
     The Michael-hallucination waved, "Hi."
     "Oh, Mr. Seven, they're running some security drills down the
corridor, so they've put up a sign and a forcefield. I guess they've
had problems with people walking through. I bumped into it myself
before seeing the sign."
     "Okay, thanks, I was wondering what was going on." The phantasm
went back into his quarters and Gary went on about his business,
Michael slipping back out of his mind.
     Well, if that didn't cinch matters, what would?
     Mike went on to other things. Telekinesis... not much, he could
activate pushbuttons, but that was his limit, though he got the
feeling with time he might improve that.
     He could also sort of sense where everything was in his room. He
pushed at the wall, it seemed to give and let him see inside it, into
the metals and equipment sandwiched between each side. He found he
could trace circuits easily this way. Pushing on though his wall, Mike
reached out to the rest of the ship. He could keep the whole ship in
his mind, what was going on inside it, as well as see what was outside
it, though his attempts at telekinesis couldn't reach beyond the
sphere of the ship. He tried pushing beyond the boundary and felt a
strain like real outstretched fingers. No good, he realized, that was
the limit of his reach.
     Mike moved outward then with perception alone, in an attempt at
unfocused expansion, at first finding only emptiness, then becoming
dimly aware of ships, planets, stars and other space-bound bodies. He
discovered if he focused on one, he came back to a sphere of
visualization about the size of _Voyager_, but by not focusing on any
one, he discovered he could go a long way in all directions at once
like this. He'd have to check star charts to find out how far his
reach was.
     Then he felt something enter his field of perception and focused
on it.
     The Borg.
     Mike's mind snapped back to _Voyager_ in surprize. He calmed
himself and shot off toward the other ship again, making a beeline to
determine it's position. With that information, he sought out the
_Feline_God_. Inside was a panel, a remote that could signal
instructions to the _Love's_Labor_, and that massive ship was what
Michael couldn't reach from here, but needed fast. In that moment of
mental contact with the Borg Cube, his plan crystallized.
     The _Love's_Labor_ activated the transporter circuits, ones far
more powerful than anything even in the 24th century, and locked on
Michael Seven, beaming him off the ship and onto the approaching Borg
Cube.
     If Voyd wanted to force the confrontation, Michael Seven would
oblige.
=================================
Date: Sun, 28 May 2000 13:38:28 +0000
Subject: AAE SO: The Rescue, Part 4: Final Confrontations

On Sun, 28 May 2000 08:14:11 CDT
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00008445

     "Okay, Michael," the ex-Time-Lord and technomage muttered to
himself, "So this may have not been such a grand idea."
     Standing weaponless in a Borg regeneration alcove in just the
sweatpants he'd been sleeping in, Michael Seven sighed to himself. No
where to go from here but forward.
     [Or, in truth,] he thought, [no where to go but backward,]
stepping back into the alcove and looking over the interface to the
Borg ship's Collective. [Damn, no easy way to get to Voyd that way.]
If he'd thought first, he might have brought some tools. As it was,
there was only one way to find Voyd on this ship.
     Five Borg appeared outside the alcove.
     "Follow us," they said as one.
     [At least I'm not being beamed into space immediately,] Mike
thought as he was led through corridor after corridor, then finally
into a high ceilinged central chamber. Several corridors met here, and
everything seemed to point to the center of the room. There was some
sort of trapdoor in the floor, a circular opening covered by wedges of
metal. Above that was a catwalk that led to a circular dead end over
the central trap door in the center of which was an alcove in which a
figure stood with her back to him. Michael couldn't see her face, that
portion was blocked by a part of the freestanding alcove. Above that
was a cylindrical chamber with leads of all types tracing to various
parts of the ceiling.
     The five guards alerted the Queen. Michael winced as something
blocked his minilens. He cast his eyes about the room, looking for
something that might be giving off this telepathic blocking field.
Nothing was visibly obvious. If he ever found what that thing was, he
was going to destroy it and the records on how to build it.
     Voyd revealed herself then, lowering from the suspended chamber
near the room's ceiling. Michael stared in revulsion. She had been as
fully borged as he could have ever imagined. All that was left of her
original body was a macabre bald head, shoulders and spine.
Connections for biomechanical relays were clearly visible. She was
lowered into the alcove, the female figure housed there actually being
the rest of her mechanical body, and connections were automatically
made.
     Voyd walked slowly along the catwalk to a set of stairs in one
wall, all the while smiling viciously. She finally spoke as she
reached the bottom of the stairs.
     "I see we've both been through some changes since we last met."
She walked forward and looked over her chosen adversary. "Excellent
workmanship, no scarring. You'd never know I cut your arm off."
     Michael flexed his left arm. "Indeed you wouldn't. You appear to
have lost a few parts yourself."
     "One can't be Borg Queen unassimilated."
     "I imagine not." Mike said, "You know I can't let you enhance the
Collective. If the Borg ever gained what we know about-" Michael
stopped and stared at Voyd, "You've already done it, haven't you?
Given time travel technology and the ability to cross the dimensions
to the Borg."
     Voyd waved a hand.
     "Observe," she said as a black pedestal arose from the trapdoor
in the center of the floor. Michael Seven gaped, the technology was
Borg, but the shape, the circuitry, was unmistakably Time Lord.
     "You," Mike said, spluttering, "You've turned this Cube into a
TARDIS!"
     Voyd laughed, "Even more grand than that! I've turned the entire
Collective into a TARDIS. Soon, I will make the Borg the only species
in the multiverse! I will assimilate all of reality!"
     "You're insane! Why would you want to do that?"
     "Why not? You and I both know you thirst for power and conquest!
Sure, you hide it well, but behind all your crusading to make the
multiverse better is your desire to control, to force others to do as
you will. How often have you sat in judgement over another culture,
comparing them to your vaunted ideas of civilization? Remember Quaren?
Arcadia? Oa? Your own revulsion at real power covers your appetite for
it."
     "Bull. I'll stop you," Michael replied, "You have to know that."
     Voyd guffawed, "You and what Army of Light? You're minilens is
blocked! It's just you versus my Borg, alone and weaponless."
     Mike seethed.
     Voyd chuckled, "Borg, to your stations."
     The five guards each took a section of the six-sided console,
Voyd taking the sixth. Another six guards came in, surrounding Michael
Seven.
     "You'll get to watch while we make our second trip back in time.
You might find our first trip of passing interest. In this reality,
what first led to our mutual birth was the meeting of Robarta Lincoln
and Gary Seven. That happened because of a car accident in which two
agents of Dad's mysterious group died. Here, the accident never
happened. The agents lived, so father never came to Earth. Thus, I
eliminated our alternate on this earth. I understand mother married a
lawyer and became a stock broker. Mom the yuppie. Horrifying, isn't
it?"
     Mike just shook his head. Voyd smirked, hovering over the
controls. The time rotor lit up as the ship began to shudder. Voyd and
the Borg worked over the controls and the shaking subsided. Voyd
laughed as the time rotor began a steady rise and fall, and a familiar
grinding and wheezing filled the room.
     "It works!" Voyd shouted in delight, "We've shifted the entire
collective into its own pocket universe," She turned to Michael and he
found himself horrified at the maniac gleam in her eyes. "Soon, we'll
assimilate this universe, then others. The Borg, with me as its queen,
will reign supreme through all of space, time and dimension!"
     The minilens was blocked, his planned mental attack circumvented
before it started. Mike furrowed his brow in concentration. He shoved
at the block, looking for any weakness. Voyd blinked, and increased
her concentration. Mike pushed that much harder, forcing Voyd to call
in the force of the Collective.
     Psychic energy flared into a brilliant physical flash. The Borg
in the room froze as their minds were suddenly subverted to provide
power for the mental attack. Voyd's minilens flared into life on her
forehead as the shield blocking Michael's minilens dropped in order to
coordinate the Collective. He accessed the power stepping-up his own
minilens provided and trebled the force behind his own attack.
     In the shimmering air, psychic energy made itself visible as
physical lightning forming from the impact of the Collective and
Michael Seven's battle. Voyd's defense dropped back as she forged a
mental bolt and flung it at Michael, who deflected it at the last
minute. The Borg around them fell, their own synapses fried from the
stray shot. There was nothing refined about any of this, it was just
unskilled grappling, a desperate "kill-or-be-killed" struggle for
supremecy.
     The battle suddenly ceased, then, both minilenses glowing like
white-hot steel. Michael slowly circled Voyd, ending up on the other
side of the Borged TARDIS console. Both combatants were looking
strained, covered in heavy beads of sweat, and the queen's chamber was
almost unbearably hot.
     "So, now what?" Michael Seven asked.
     "You die!" Voyd shouted, leaping over the console, ten razor-keen
blades sliding like claws from sheathes in her finger. Michael stepped
backward involuntarily and tripped over one of the downed Borg. He
grabbed a second Borg's arm, triggering its disruptor and blasting
Voyd center-stomach. She fell, a gaping hole visible through her,
vital life support systems destroyed. But the look of surprize on her
face quickly shifted into a snarl as she struggled to get up.
     They locked eyes again and Michael broke her mental defenses
easily, racing into her mind. She struggled against his grip on her,
fighting every inch of the way as he suddenly knew everything she'd
ever done, her entire life story.
     Voyd had been reborn in a room that looked like the cloning room
in Fifth Element, in the cloning chamber. Two faces looked in on her,
two Time Lords. She'd screamed. They'd taken her back to Gallifrey in
their TARDIS, her prison therein a torture chamber both physical and
mental, using methods that would have forced regeneration several
times over, had her body been able to handle it. She'd resisted a long
time even so, but they'd finally broken through her defenses by
letting her see the "thoughts" of the Callahanian Army of Light, but
twisted into thoughts of hatred for her and love of their cloned
version, one they had "said" they could get anywhere, just find a Star
Trek universe and Michael Seven would be there for them. Let the Time
Lords have that one, they'd just get another. She'd refused to believe
it, of course, until some of the CAoL had come into the room where
she'd been held and started administering the torture themselves.
     Then her mind shattered and the pieces were picked up by the Time
Lords and reforged. Or so they thought. She'd stolen relics of
Rassilon, opened the gateway beneath the Panoptican in the Time Lord's
capital, exposing the Eye of Harmony, the naked singularity that
powered all their TARDISes, then left in Anna Mahloy's TARDIS, which
they'd broght there for her to infiltrate, as Gallifrey was pulled
inside out.
     Anna had been unaware of this, it hadn't affected her own link to
the Eye of Harmony. Voyd had discovered Anna's intent to create a new
power source for her ship, thus severing her need for the Time Lords',
never realizing Gallifrey was no longer a threat. She used the other
woman to gather the means to destroy what Michael Seven held most
precious, the collection of universi his people had attempted to
shuffle out of the main line during the last Cosmic Reset.
     When that effort failed, she'd used the linking book of the D'Ni
Anna had brought aboard to escape that TARDIS's destruction. From
there, she'd found her way to the underground world of D'Ni, empty due
to some virus to which she was immune, where she'd studied the methods
of writing books that linked to other worlds. She'd travelled to the
surface of that D'Ni's planet, and found herself on Earth, just as the
D'Ni themselves had discovered. A caravan had passed and she'd killed
most of them, only a few men escaping.
     She left the desert by camel, heading for London, where she
turned the system of D'Ni writing into a form of magic that would let
her cross the barriers between worlds. She'd needed money, so she'd
taught this system of magic to a few others, or shards of it, mostly
using them as guienea pigs for her own attempts to leave this world.
     She finally wrote a thorough enough description of a Star Trek
world that she'd landed in this universe on Earth in the 1960's. She'd
known it was the right planet since she'd landed in New York City and
nearly bumped into her own mother on the street.
     The building of the financial empire was easy when you knew the
future and by two thousand, she'd gathered the money to fund her
expedition to Borg space, tricking a whole crew into going with her,
as the Borg rarely paid attention to single individuals.
     As she'd built her TARDIS from the Borg Collective, she'd
discovered Michael Seven had found his way here and sent the Borg
nanovirus to wipe him out and as a test to see if the proccess would
help in her eventual conquest. Then she'd found Michael Seven in the
Delta Quadrant with Voyager. Seven of Nine might have managed to help
him find a cure, she'd been her worst failing, so Voyd had moved to
intercept.
     As Michael grappled with this and Voyd, a blast caught his
attention. He saw Voyd fall, a Borg behind her, felt her pain as she
died, and suddenly his link with her mind, her grappling to be free,
reversed, as Michael attempted to break free from the white vortex
that threatened to drag Voyd in and Voyd tried to take his mind with
hers as she died.
     [You're going to come with me!] she screamed in his mind, as she
clung to him, Michael attempting to loose himself from her grasp and
that of Death trying to engulf them both indiscriminately. There was a
sudden freedom from the vortex and it vanished.
     Michael's mind reeled, his thoughts muddled, he'd pulled them
both out of the vortex, he hadn't, he couldn't be sure. She looked
dead, she had to have gone in, or not, he wasn't sure. The cure, had
he gotten the cure? Someone was attempting to drag him to his feet.
     "Hey, kid, com'on, you okay?" It was the Borg. A small silver pen
was in his right hand, the light reflecting off it like that of the
vortex, his own face in the center of it.
     Michael staggered, his words a jumble, "I'm not sure. Who are
you? Voyager, gotta get back to Earth with the cure. Too much to do,
not enough time for an ex-Time Lord."
     The world turned a sparkling green and Michael Seven saw the
bridge of Voyager, triggered the relay to his own transporter, called
out with his mind...

                       *     *     *     *     *

     In Callahans, Tinkerbell Seven jumped as the rifle-like report
sounded in her mind, ^TINK! I NEED YOU!^
     "Yipe!" she said as she fell backwards in her chair just as a
transporter took hold.
     "Back in a bit!" she said just before she dissolved, her voice
echoing oddly inside the beam. Her chair landed on the floor, empty.

                       *     *     *     *     *

     Captain Janeway stood up and stared at the tiny Borg Scout Cube.
Their hail had been a repeated "We come in peace," no shields up, all
weapons systems down. The green transporter beam had caused a great
deal of alarm, turned surprize at the Borg holding Michael Seven
upright.
     Another beam shimmered behind her, this one the blue-white of
Federation transporters. A blonde girl in a yellow Starfleet uniform
fell out of the air into the captain's chair, looked around in
surprize, saw Michael Seven, then shouted "Grampa! Medical emergency
on the bridge!"

                       *     *     *     *     *

     Michael awoke with a groan. He was lying on the bed in his
quarters on Voyager. Tinkerbell was snuggled up against him, she
stirred as he did.
     "How do you feel?" Tink asked.
     "Like I had my brain smashed with a large gold brick, minus the
lemon wedge. And hungry. Computer, I want a steak, medium rare, with
A1 sauce, search your archives for that recipe; eggs, sunny side up,
hashbrowns, tomato juice with a few dashs tobasco, two buttermilk
pancakes with raspberry syrup and butter, and a glass of water."
     Mike and Tink sat up in bed. The replicator shimmered as it made
the large meal, and at the same time, a patch of air did as well,
turning into the holodoc. The ship's EMH looked at the meal in the
replicator, took the glass of tomato juice and the glass of water and
brought them over to the bed.
     "You can have these," he said, handing them over. "You've been
asleep for the last week, a large breakfast would be a bad idea."
     "A week?!" Mike said, looking at Tinkerbell.
     "Taking on the entire Borg Collective by yourself, you're lucky
to be alive," the doc said, running a tricorder over him. "Your
readings are almost back to normal." He closed the tricorder. "But no
large meals for a day or two, I've uploaded your restricted diet to
your computer."
     "Dammit, my stomach's in knots, and you expect me to live on
juice and water?"
     "It's because your stomach's in knots that you will live on juice
and water, unless you'd like to find out why large meals are
documented as harmful in ending fasting firsthand."
     Mike grumbled.
     "Is he always this difficult a patient?" the doc asked Tink.
     The little girl grinned, "I'll handle it."
     The doc nodded and left. Mike sighed and sipped the juice,
staring at the breakfast he couldn't eat grumpily. The door chimed.
     "Come in," Tink called. Seven of Nine, Naomi Wildman and a young
man who looked somewhat familiar to Mike came in. The man looked at
the breakfast in the replicator.
     "Looks good," he said.
     Michael nodded, "I know. But the doc says I can't eat it. Have it
if you like."
     The man brought it to the small glass top table in the room and
set up a few plates in addition, dividing it up.
     "You've got to try this, Seven. Tink, Naomi, want some?"
     Naomi nodded, as did Tink after a quick sympathetic look at Mike.
Five chairs were pulled up around the table, four with a quarter of
the breakfast on a plate before them, one with a pitcher of tomato
juice and a pitcher of water within easy reach.
     Seven looked over her plate somewhat dubiously, asking, "How was
the Collective broken?"
     The unknown man said after a bite of steak, "When Michael shot
the Borg queen,"
     "Voyd," Mike explained to Tink, who nodded back, "Is she dead?"
     The man nodded, "Yes, I made sure of that, there's absolutely
nothing left, not even a skin cell. Anyway, when she was shot with the
disruptor, her hold on the collective broke. Without a central
consciousness, I made my way to the queen's chamber and shot her."
     "The Collective is going to be very dangerous without a central
consciousness," Mike said, "Especially with Time Lord technology."
     "They'll have a central consciousness of sorts, at least
leadership while they adapt to individuality, Seven and I will see to
that. Though my people are projecting that the Borg will be able to
become a peaceful society now. That was why I was sent there."
     "You were sent to infiltrate the collective?" Tink asked before
having a bite of her pancakes.
     "Why?" Naomi added. "How come the Borg didn't know?"
     The man said, "I was there for ten days. It was projected that
this period would be crucial to their development, so I was sent to
help it along. I was under a hypnotic suggestion to not reveal
anything about my mission or who I was until the Collective was
broken, then to remember and act."
     Seven nodded, "We will dismantle the time travel technology and
remove the Collective from the pocket universe once it is ready to
emerge as a peaceful people, and once retaliatory threats are no
longer a possibility."
     The man nodded, "We also went ahead and had Tinkerbell here beam
the antivirus information to Earth, though without a collective, it's
mainly a matter of destroying the nanoprobes. Earth should be returned
to normal within a month."
     Michael nodded and frowned over his tomato juice. "Who are you,
anyway?" he asked the man across the table.
     "You don't recognize him?" Tink asked.
     Michael frowned, "Sort of, but I can't place it."
     The man smiled, "I'm surprized a bit as well, based on what I
overheard you and Voyd talking about." He stuck out his hand, "I'm
supervisor 194, code name Gary Seven."
=================================
Subject: AAE Spin-Off: No Need for Foresight
Date: Fri, 20 Oct 2000 13:21:31 -0700 (PDT)

On Fri, 20 Oct 2000 16:04:45 -0400
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00008850

     The stone came from nowhere, then, suddenly they came from
several directions at once. David deflected the first with his
practice sword, sidestepped another pair, then deflected three more in
rapid succession before the final stone struck a tree branch above him
and dusted him in snow. He scowled then bowed to his instructor.
     "You are improving, brother," the blonde woman said as she
offered David his coat.
     "That bit with the snow was a dirty trick, Grep," David replied,
slipping into the duster. He brushed the snow from his coppery brown
hair then from around the delicate fringes of his crest bone. Grep
smiled her usual smile to him, that of teacher to wayward student.
     "Always be aware of all your environment," the 35-year-old woman
cautioned, "Foot placement and sword technique are not all there is to
fighting. When I was your age-"
     "You never were my age."
     "Biologically, no, in all other senses, though, yes I was," she
said, interrupting David's interruption, "I thought I knew everything
there was to know about fighting. Then I was captured by a precocious
little boy who put a bucket of water over the door in my bedroom."
     David chuckled, "I remember that, I'm surprised now you fell for
that."
     Grep shrugged, "I was caught unaware, presuming I was safe. In
our home, that would be acceptable. In the field, it is not."
     David sighed and nodded. Grep put an arm around his waist; she
was about a head shorter than him.
     "As father says, "Buck up!" You have already surpassed father's
skills with a sword. That is no mean feat."
     David grinned, "He's had a lot of time to practice."
     Grep nodded, "As I said, no mean feat."
     They passed through a tool shed doorway, the small building
sitting alone in the wooded clearing, across the undetectable
dimensional barrier, then into a long hallway of mahogany and hunter
green. Old Victorian wall sconces illuminated the length of the
corridor in the warm light of electric filaments.
     Grep turned to the ceiling, calling, "Computer, locate Melissa
and Tinkerbell."
     A male voice replied smoothly, "Both parties are in the garden,
two kilometers from portal three."
     Grep turned to David and both bowed to the other. Grep headed
down the hallway, taking a left. David took a right, then another, and
entered his rooms. After stripping out of his training gear and a
shower, he put on his school uniform, then headed down the hallway to
a flight of stairs and then a larger room with a door on the far wall.
     "Computer," he called, "Announcement: I'm heading to school! End
announcement."
     "Confirmed."
     A chorus of goodbyes followed moments later. David grabbed his
book bag and slung it over a shoulder, opening the front door. Pausing
a moment to put on a net-like cap that instantly disguised his bone
crest and lack of eyebrows, he noticed a lunch box sitting on the
table next to the door. He picked it up, took the note off it, smiling
when he saw his mother's minbari script saying "I love you. Enjoy,"
then went through the door.
     He ran down the building's stairs to the bus stop, arriving just
as it pulled in. Seeing a familiar face, sitting near the middle and
leaning against the window dosing as he boarded, David sat down next
to him. The boy was about David's age, Japanese, with short hair and a
rat-tail.
     "Tenchi, wake up!"
     Tenchi jerked awake with a start, shouting, "Ryoko, put down the
whip!"
     "Woo!" David said, as people turned to stare at the pair of boys,
"Sorry I woke you, that sounded very interesting."
     Tenchi slid down in his seat, blushing furiously, "Man, David,
don't do that!" he said, then glared, "And "interesting" isn't the
word. "Terrifying" is more like it."
     David leaned back in the seat, putting his arms behind his head.
"I don't know what you're complaining about. I'd love having so many
women chasing after me."
     Tenchi looked disgusted at David, "You have no clue."
     David shrugged, "Hey, don't get me wrong, you ought to pick one,
I mean, any decent guy would, not fair leaving the rest hanging and
all, but having women fight over you sounds cool to me."
     "Yeah, well, may it happen to you someday, then you'll see."
     David smirked, "I welcome the challenge."

     Eleven years later…
     ""I welcome the challenge." What was I thinking?"
     The bartender stared at the man sobbing into the bar top, an
empty whiskey bottle next to him. He was about to reply when an
extremely long-eared rabbit with fur colored like that of a Siamese
cat hopped onto the bar next to the man named "David."
     "Meow…" the rabbit said forlornly and rubbed David's hand. The
man seemed to rally himself together and stood up.
     "Right," David said, "Too much introspection," then looking to
the barman, he inquired, "How much I owe you?"
     The bartender made to reply but just then the bar was rocked by a
large explosion from nearby outside.
     David muttered, "Three doors down and across the street," then
reached into his grey leather jacket and slapped a small stack of
bills on the counter. "Do me a favor, take the bill out of that, give
yourself a hefty tip, and distribute the rest as an urban renewal
fund. This area's gonna need it."
     The rabbit hopped onto David's shoulder and they both ran out
leaving the barman scratching his head.
     Just as David expected, three doors down and across the street
was now a mostly torched building. In the glass strewn street lay a
lavender figure he recognized immediately. But then, a Zora was hard
to mistake, looking vaguely like a grey alien from X-files given
wing-like fins from the upper arms and having the tail of a dolphin
hanging from the back of their heads, then painted a light lavender
with blue spots on the arm fins and back of the head.
     David helped her to her feet as the blue magical force field
dispelled around her. He noticed she'd put on a blue sequined
strapless gown and silver boots and gloves.
     "You alright, Zora?" he asked, then added as he noted her attire,
"Uh, that's a nice dress, by the way. Is it new?"
     Zora turned away, hiding a shy smile. "Yes, do you like it?"
     David smiled, "Reminds me of water. It's very you." He looked
toward the collapsed building as something shifted in the rubble. A
blue and chrome robot, about ten feet tall, shifted out from under a
pile of debris. A vaquely face-like red emblem adorned her chest.
Nearby, a smaller pile of rubble shifted, a woman with guns for
forearms, dressed in a black leather skirt, black boots, and a black
halter top crawled out of another pile. Both were singed and both
showed signs of battle damage.
     David growled, "Walkabout, Bernice…" Walkabout, the ten foot tall
female autobot, and Bernice, the robotic human punker with spiked red
and white hair, both looked at David, then each pointed to the other,
saying "She started it!"
     David was about to reply when sirens began to sound in the area.
     "Nevermind," he said, then looked at the rabbit on his shoulder,
"Keri-Ohki, let's get out of here before we have to explain this to
the authorities."
     With a meow, the rabbit leaped into the sky, metal shifting from
its body and forming into the spiked red and pink crystal form of a
spaceship. As the four were lifted aboard, David muttered to himself,
"I swear that cabbit's the only one truly sane in this group."
=================================
Subject: AAE (SO): A Long, Strange Trip - Part 1
Date: Thu, 7 Dec 2000 13:31:49 -0800 (PST)

On Thu, 7 Dec 2000 15:25:55 -0500
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00009069

     David sighed as he stared out over the canal. The september
breezes wafted the earliest fall leaves down into the rippling water.
The sun shown brightly, the downtown city traffic was fairly quiet
here. The sound of cutlery on plates surrounded the pair on three
sides at the outdoor cafe and the chicken he'd just eaten was superb.
As always, Ottawa was the most pleasant place he'd ever called home.
But, he just couldn't enjoy it.
     "Dad, they're driving me nuts," he said finally, "I mean, I like
the girls and all, but honestly, when they fight like this, they all
get pretty ugly."
     Michael Seven rubbed his chin. "David, I have to say," he said,
setting down his orange pekoe tea, "In three hundred and thirty-five
years," then the side of his mouth quirked upward, twitching, "I
haven't heard anything," and finally, the dam broke and he laughed,
"So funny!"
     At David's crestfallen look, Mike took a moment to regain his
composure. "I'm sorry, you're having a hard time and I'm laughing.
Okay, well, tell me this, WHY is this an issue? You have two machines
and a fish lady attracted to you."
     Michael paused and scrutinized his son for a moment, "Uh, this
isn't some, uh, fetish thing with you, is it?"
     David looked appalled, "No! Look, you know, Bernice isn't exactly
a machine, she's a Betrayer. Without the Bailey programming, she's got
the personality of a real human being in there. Sure, it's the
personality of a wanted criminal, but I mean, with Melissa, Grep and
Tink all starting similarly, there is a shot at restoring her to a
real human body."
     Mike nodded, "Okay, that could be arranged, I'm sure, but why not
just go ahead and do that, then see if there's something you can build
on with her--what, she won't agree?"
     David was already shaking his head. "No, she likes her new body.
She doesn't want to change back unless she's sure she can have a
relationship with me. And she's not all machine, it's sort of a
metallic-like organism. Like the T-1000, but with her it's not just a
mold, it emulates the same physical responses."
     "Physical respon-? Nevermind, none of my business."
     David blushed, "Geez, dad, I -scanned- her. And I've seen
Betrayers in full human mode faint when exposed to gases that knock
out humans."
     Michael held up his hands, "Okay, I believe you. What about
Walkabout then?"
     David looked a bit perplexed, "Dunno exactly, the closest
description I can think of is that it's a platonic love, but one that
she feels is being taken from her by Bernice. She feels threatened
just by the thought of her."
     "And Zora?"
     "She's shy about it. I think that's why Walkabout and Bernice
leave her alone. Walkabout isn't threatened by her, probably because
she's not as overt, and Bernice probably doesn't think she has a
chance at all. Heck, I don't see what she sees in me, except that
there does seem to be some intermingling between Gerudo and Hylians,
so maybe it wasn't unheard of with the Zora. After all, Princess Ruto,
as a kid, got engaged to that kid, Link. And she still seemed serious
about it as an adult when we last checked in on them. If the Zora
princess can feel that way, who knows?"
     Mike pinched his brow, "Okay, now the key question, how do you
feel about them?"
     David thought about that. "I like them all. They're my friends. I
don't want to choose between them."
     Michael thought about that for a while. The waiter came over to
the table and refilled Mike's tea cup and David's coffee mug. David
ordered a piece of pecan pie. He finished it before Michael finally
replied.
     "Let them fight it out," the Time Lord said, "Be honest with them
about how you feel about them and about their fighting, of course, but
if they still want to stick around, let them. Let them fight until
they reach some sort of understanding with each other. When it starts
to get to you, drop them off somewhere and give yourself a timeout or
something. But, essentially, I don't think you're ready for a
relationship of that sort, so I don't think you should be forced into
one because they want one."
     "Off topic, but c'mon, Dad, I'm twenty-eight. I should be
settling down. I don't even have a girlfriend."
     "So?"
     "So, shouldn't I? I mean, that's what's normal for a guy my age."
     "And I'm actually only as old as I look," the apparently
forty-five year-old technomage retorted. He tapped his forehead,
continuing, "It's not a biological age decision. I don't think you
want a girlfriend right now. Just some friends. If they can't handle
it, tough."
     "But why shouldn't I be ready for a relationship? Everyone I knew
in high school and college have all settled down and gotten married.
What makes me different?" David could already see that his father was
right about him, but still, it bothered him.
     Mike smirked, "You're my son. Our whole family has a somewhat
unique relationship with the whole concept of time. David, you're
-different-, even different from me and your mother. That's life, my
boy. You just take each step when you're ready and hang what the rest
of the world thinks."
     "But why let them fight over me?"
     "Ah. Because," Mike said, "It may not actually be about you as
much as about how they treat each other. Sometimes fighting is the
only way, as harsh as that may seem. But, it would seem that that is
the way they've selected to settle their disputes, as the only way to
let out their frustrations with each other. And, considering the power
Bernice and Walkabout pack, and maybe Zora, too, if you get in the
way, you're liable to become the focus of their anger."
     "Good point."
     Mike looked around, "Speaking of the girls, where are they?"
     David gave a long suffering sigh, "Probably blowing holes in the
Parliment building."
     "Well," Mike replied amiably, "Just so long as they aren't
breaking anything important."
     "Mom and Anna went out with them, I know that much."
     Michael nodded, "They should be fine then, your mom'll keep them
in line. Besides, it wouldn't do to bicker in front of the woman you
hope to be your future mother-in-law."
     "Dad!" David said, embarrassed.
     Michael Seven just smiled and sipped his tea.

     "How did you meet my son?" Flarn asked as she looked through the
multitude of beads laid out in small boxes before her. "These are
nice," she added, passing a sapphire blue bead to the woman next to
her. Like David, Flarn habitually adopted a chameleon net designed
specifically to conceal her lack of eyebrows and bone ridge. To the
store's occupants, she simply seemed a woman of roughly middle age
with coppery brown spirals of hair cascading dowh her back who
possessed a style of dress that leaned toward the medieval and exotic.
The woman to whom she was showing beads was covered from head to toe
by long robes and veils over her face and head as according to some
middle-eastern customs.
     The woman, Zora, nodded. "They are, though I fear the paint will
come off in water. I met him the day of the war, when Ganondorf came
with his minions to enslave Hyrule. Your son had landed a spacecraft
in Hyrule Field as Ganondorf was chasing the princess from the castle
and Link confronted him. The landing distracted him and Link slashed
at his leg. Ganondorf got angry at the wounding and fired harder than
he might have. The boy was knocked unconscious, which David saw.
Ganondorf fled as David ran toward the boy. Together they opened the
door to time and while Link fought in the future alone, David went
about gathering the forces to stop Ganondorf. I was one of Princess
Ruto's nurses and assigned to help David learn the ways of those of
our world by her majesty. The war against Ganondorf did not go as
planned, but beyond our loss to the forces of darkness and my
certainty that had David not been there guiding the troops of the
Hylians it would have been far worse, I don't know what exactly went
wrong. David won't talk about it, says it is under Lensman's Seal."
     "Lensman's Seal?" Flarn inquired.
     Zora nodded beneath her veils, "Apparently, some sort of privacy
restriction that others could not pry into. I took the hint and did
not pry, either. I think he may have been dissatisfied that he could
not unite all our world's forces and thus was fighting a losing battle
from the beginning. From there, I asked my lady if I could go with
David. She consented, as did David, and so I am here."
     Flarn smiled to herself, "I think you're leaving some things out
of your story." She could almost hear the blush. Zora was truely glad
for the veil at that moment.
     "Uhm, well," she said, then picked up a bead at random, "Oh,
isn't this lovely?"
     Flarn let it pass, she had enough information already, "Yes, very
pretty."

     Anna leaned against the blue and chrome racing motorcycle, fine
blonde hair reflecting the sunlight so well it almost seemed composed
of the brilliant rays. She crossed her arms, tapping a heel lightly as
she waited.
     "Where has Bernice gotten to?" Walkabout emitted from speakers in
her dashboard. Anna raised a CB mike to her mouth with her artificial
arm, her black turtleneck and black driving gloves all the concealment
she usually adopted for the wooden prosthesis.
     Brushing at a bit of white lint on her khaki slacks, Anna
replied, "Down the street. She said she wanted to have a peek in one
of the buildings down there."
     Walkabout grumbled, "Probably a bar," then paused for a moment
before asking hesitantly, "Anna, there is something I don't
understand, how are you related to David?"
     Anna replied, "I'm the mother of his half-sister, Molly."
     Walkabout thought about that, "Then you're Michael Seven's first
wife? Then why do you call Molly "Mother?" Shouldn't it be "daughter"
instead?"
     "No, Grandpa and I weren't married. Yes, she is biologically my
daughter, but she adopted me when I was five. The technical details
behind that are complicated. Anyway, that's why I call her "Mom." She
and Tiara were my parents in every other respect.
     "And before you ask," Anna added with a smirk, "Yes, this means I
am my own grandmother."
     "I am confused."
     "So was I when I first sorted this out. I look at it this way,
Molly and Tiara raised me because my parents couldn't. Michael Seven
was like a grandfather to me. And David was like a cousin, we grew up
together. So, that's why they're "Mom," "Grandpa," and "Cousin." And,
just to confuse things even more, almost none of us are our
chronological ages, exactly, thanks to some fancy rejuvenation
techniques. Gramma Roberta and Grampa Gary are Mike's parents, and
they're only five years older than him. Grandpa Mike tried aging
normally for a while, but decided to quit at forty-five. Grep made it
to thirty-five before going back to twenty-five with Melissa. I chose
twenty. Tinkerbell decided she liked eighteen best. David's aging
normally right now since he hasn't decided on a favorite yet. Mom and
Tiara are still thirty-five and twenty-three, respectively. So, I call
Mommy Tiara that, even though she's only three years older than me. We
seem to have a general convention that parents are older than kids,
just to make things feel a bit more normal, Mom and I probably being
the only exception, but I don't think anyone would make a fuss if we
decided to go against it. As a general rule of thumb, you can pretty
much bet the Seven family timeline, when you figure it all together,
will be like a snarl of fishing line, everything tends to loop over
and around and back through each other. It's a knot that refuses to
untangle."
     Anna looked at the motorcycle, saying, "Your turn for a story,
how'd you meet David?"
     "Well," Walkabout replied, "The Autobots had just retaken
Cybertron after the defeat of Unicron. Most of the Decepticon forces
had been exhausted trying to stop the planet killer, the rest
retreated to somewhere else in the cosmos, the Autobots weren't sure
where. I was studying the captured space-bridge, a device that allowed
the Decepticons to teleport their forces from Earth to Cybertron in
mere moments. I had just finished repairing the last connections that
had been damaged during the Autobot raid of the Decepticon
headquarters. To my surprise, the space-bridge activated itself and
David stepped through, with Keri-Ohki on one shoulder and Zora close
behind. He had built a similar space-bridging device, but designed to
bridge dimensions. I had thought a pair of humans had somehow been
teleported from Earth, until David and Zora removed their chameleon
nets. Zora promptly fainted, her net had had a malfunction and was
leaking radiation. We ran some scans on her and David recognized the
radiation symptoms. He removed a bottle of blue liquid from a pouch on
her belt and gave it to her. She recovered almost immediately. Then
they asked if they could use my space-bridge. I agreed. Over the next
month, David and I reconfigured the device to bridge dimensions, at
the end of which I asked to go with them. After all, the war was over
and I thought there was a lot to learn from David. And the idea of
travelling has always appealed to me. That's the reason my name is
Walkabout in English."
     Anna looked dubious, "Those're the only reasons?"
     Walkabout sounded slightly flustered and decided to change the
subject, "Well, I, uh, why couldn't your original parents take care of
you?"
     Anna frowned, "Where -did- Bernice get to?"
     Walkabout got the hint and didn't press further as Anna seemed to
have decided with her own line of questioning, "Probably at a bar
somewhere," she replied.

     "So, how'd you meet Bernice, anyway?" Mike asked, setting down
his tea and taking a bite of a cookie from a small plate brought out
for them.
     "Well," David said, settling back with a second cup of coffee,
"Keri-Ohki and I were just wandering, trying to get to know Zora and
Walkabout better, and vice versa. We happened into a Cleopatra 2525
universe, down in the underground, when we happened onto a bar Bernice
the Thief frequented. She'd been gone a few weeks, apparently, but had
arrived as we got there, having escaped from a Betrayer factory, where
Bernice the Betrayer had been made. Naturally, Bernice the Betrayer
escaped before her programming was complete, so essentially, both
thought they were the original. They'd come in on different sides of
the bar, and both were being hassled for having welched on a job by
some gang's enforcers, neither of whom knew the other had a Bernice in
custody. One finally radios the boss, the other overhears, comedy
ensues, both are brought together to try and work out who's who, they
make the mistake of threatening Bernice the Betrayer, who
automatically morphs her arm into a gun and blasts one of the guards.
Panic ensues, they want their money from Bernice, and they want the
Betrayer dead. Bernice the Betrayer rescues her original and, as we're
ducking out, also snares Walkabout with a sort of spiderman-like
grappling line and yanks herself after us. After a little questioning,
I figure she's not so bad, and that she'd probably be useful to us in
getting off this world, so we agree to team up, with some grumbling
from Walkabout, who's a bit untrusting of those with a blatantly
checkered past. So, we head down to one of the power stations, where
we put together a new dimensional portal, which we use after we've
caved in the shaft it's in. Bernice came along, realizing life there
would be more of the same. I think the Tenchi curse kicked in not long
after."
     Mike chuckled.

     David entered the nightclub, suddenly deafened by the loud techno
music pumping out of the speakers. As his ears got accustomed to the
levels, he looked around for Bernice. Not at the bar, where Walkabout
had expected. Then he caught sight of her, in the center of the dance
floor. The music shifted into a new song as their eyes locked.
     Bernice gave him a wicked smile and she began what looked to
David like some sort of neo-bellydance. Her blouse, made of rainbow
sequins on black fabric, was knotted around her midriff, showing off
her stomach, the arms flasing in the lights as she beckoned for him to
join the dance as her slitted, denim skirt-clad hips swayed with
obvious invitation. "Come here," she mouthed.
     The crowd, through independent subconscious decisions that none
would notice, cleared a path between the pair. David jerked his head
toward the door with a mouthed "Come on."
     If David would not play her game, Bernice would not play his. Her
attire shifted faintly of its own accord, the knot in her blouse
loosening, the slits in her skirts slipping a few inches higher, all
with the intent of being more revealing as she continued dancing
enticingly.
     David frowned, stepping onto the dance floor, intent on
physically taking Bernice by hand and dragging her out. She'd had
Flarn and Anna worried. Walkabout was irritated and wanted to leave
her there, while Zora was mildly concerned, if only for the Sevens'
sake.
     Bernice gave a flick of her wrists and a satin scarf floated
through the air as it wrapped around David's neck. the crowd began to
hoot a bit as they noticed the pair, thinking some magic trick or
staged event was going on.
     "We've been worried about you," David said, barely over the level
of the music.
     Bernice smiled, "Well, no need to worry now. C'mon, let's have
some fun." She drew herself closer, pulling her way along the scarf.
Giggling to herself, she said, "You know you want to."
     David tried to be accomodating, "Normally, I'd be happy to,
bu-mmmf!"
     The kiss caught him off-guard, Bernice throwing her whole body
into it. The crowd cheered, there was a flash and applause fading
rapidly...
     ...To be replaced with the noises of a night forest, and the
sounds of a less technological party going on nearby.
     David broke the kiss, suddenly more curious about his
surroundings. Bernice blinked, looking around as well.
     "Great, -now- where are we?" David said in irritation.
=================================
Subject: AAE: Strange Liaisons <FLASHBACK>
Date: Tue, 26 Dec 2000 01:07:59 +0000

On Tue, 26 Dec 2000 00:58:05 +0000 (GMT)
Stranger Said As CAoL Message # 00009141

Hi,

I wanted to get stuck into the story again, but I'm off hiking for a
week in a day or two, so I probably can't get into the main story
right now, so I thought I'd tie up a little loose end I've been
meaning to sort out for a while. The following happens right at the
end of Greyworld and it answers two questions. Why was Gruber willing
to work with the Stranger? Why did Stranger have a new body next time
you met him?

Oh, and you remember there were Aliens style 'xenomorphs' running
around?

Here we go....<doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo>

Stranger pushed his way through the crowd, he didn't need this, he'd
hoped to sort out his business quietly and get the hell out. Oh well,
nobody gets everything they want.

"Let me through here! Come on, get out of my way!"

This was getting him nowhere. He hefted his pulse rifle into the air
and fired a burst. The crowd surged back, opening a clear path to the
open manhole. He settled his rifle back on his hip, he'd taped an
incinerator to it as was traditional on occasions like this, so he was
finding it a little unwieldy.

Better.

He strode up to the manhole, the cover was lying a few feet away. It
was quite heavily scratched and looked corroded in places.

"You." He picked a man at random and pointed at him, "What's going on
here?"

"Me?"

"Yes you, come on I haven't got all day."

"Well, I'm not sure, seems something came out of the sewer, snatched
one of the children from the playground over there. My boy saw it
all."

"We were told it was safe again to come out." he added.

"Anyone else involved."

"Her father's gone down after here."

Great, thought Stranger, that's all I need, a child and a civilian in
my way. Just great. He slung his weapon across his back and started
climbing into the manhole.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get her, where the hell do you think I'm going. Oh, and
if I don't come back, find someone in authority and tell them to drop
a nuke in after me."

Without explaining further he descended into the manhole, at the
bottom of the ladder he dropped and landed ankle deep in something he
didn't want to think too much about. He paused and produced a pair of
goggles from the pocket of his coat. He took a few seconds to put them
on and adjust them before heading off down the tunnel.

Stranger was afraid this might happen. He'd come across the xenomorphs
on the surface, but there had to be a queen. Now when the aliens had
been removed by Nemo <OOC: I think it was Nemo> that should have been
an end to it, but he had an instinct one was still here, shielded in
some way from detection. He had no proof, but he knew she was here and
he could smell the influence of Chaos. Or Law maybe. One of the two,
they were often hard to tell apart.

He followed the tunnels for some time, taking branches at random,
guided by some inner instinct, occasionally pausing to examine marks
on the wall or roof. Eventually he found the first definite evidence
he was looking for. A patch of green slime. Not that unusual in a
sewer, but this slime glowed bright red when viewed with his goggles.
They were bioscan goggles, tuned to the resonant frequency of
xenomorph DNA. This was alien slime and it was fresh.

++++

Mary woke up. She couldn't move, she was trapped in some sort of
coccoon. As she struggled to free herself she heard a soft, sucking,
organic sound. The light was weak, she wasn't sure where it came from,
but she could see where the sound was coming from. A sphere of some
sort had opened in front of here, as she stared horrified at it,
something scuttled out.

She screamed.

++++

Stranger heard the scream and started running. Then he heard, shots,
half a dozen rifle shots, painfully load in the enclosed tunnels. He
increased his pace. The walls here were bright red to him, he was
inside the nest now, no question.

Skidding round a corner he came to stop, in front of him a large man
was cutting a child free from a coccoon. As he watched, the man cut
away the last fibres holding the child, she flung her arms around him
and called him Daddy. The man looked around at Stranger.

"Hello Stranger."

"Hello Gruber. Your little girl?"

Gruber nodded.

"I see."

Stranger stepped up to Gruber, staring past him.

"Well, I've found what I'm looking for, but you're in deep trouble."

Gruber turned and raised his rifle, tracking the torch tied to the
muzzle across a large chamber, filled with 'eggs'.

"Oh hell."

Something scuttled across the far wall and Stranger fired a long
burst, the muzzle flash lighting up the chamber. Things exploded on
the fire side of the room and the unearthly scream of an alien could
be heard above the roar of the rifle.

Stranger stopped firing.

Gruber raised his rifle, but Stranger motioned at him not to fire.

"What, dammit man, can't we just destroy these and get out?" Gruber
sounded a trifle on edge, Stranger thought. Mary had started crying.

"No. I want the queen. If we destroy them all, she'll flee, if she
thinks she can save them, she'll come and try to kill us."

"Oh great plan, just great."

Another alien scuttled out of a nearby tunnel, Stranger lit the pilot
light of the incinerator and pointed it at an egg, the alien prowled
in front of Stranger, hissing menacingly, but not advancing. Stranger
smiled at it, he could hear something large moving in the distance.

Gruber was trying to comfort Mary and watching out down the tunnel
behind them.

"Gruber, can you have a look in the backpack I'm wearing please?"

An egg unfolded in front of him, Stranger fired the rifle again,
hitting the alien in the chest and tearing it apart before he walked
the fire onto the freshly opened egg, shattering it and several around
it. He could feel Gruber removing the heavy package from his rucksack.

From the opposite tunnel came a moaning screaming sound. The sound of
something ancient and primal in terrible pain.

"Even aliens love their sons," whispered Stranger as he stealed
himself for what was to come. He looked round at Gruber, Mary was
still clinging to his neck as he quickly, expertly prepared the weapon
from Stranger's backpack.

"You know how to use that?"

Gruber raised it to his shoulder.

"It's a splat gun[1], of course I know how to use it!"

The alien queen emerged into the chamber on the far side.

"Good, then.."

<WHOOO-WHOO-WHOOOSHH>

"...fire!"

Stranger and Gruber flung themselves to the floor as the rockets
streaked across the chamber.

<BOOOOOM!!!!!>

For several seconds the world was filled with fire and dust and
deafening, deafening noise.

When the echoes subsided, Stranger lept to his feet and sprayed the
room with incinerator fire. He couldn't see for the dust, but with an
incinerator it doesn't matter that much anyway. He shouted at Gruber
to start firing, but they were both still deaf from the explosion and
was firing on his own account.

Eventually the incinerator ran out, Stranger cut it free and let it
drop. He shrugged off his rucksack and pulled the pin on the satchel
charge at the bottom before flinging it with all his strength into the
room.

"GRUBER! RUN!"

He grabbed him and they started running. Gruber took the lead, gunning
down aliens from the hip as he ran, Mary still clinging tightly to his
neck. Stranger followed, firing short burst behind him at pursuing
aliens.

Two minutes later they reached the main sewer. Stranger pulled Gruber
to a stop.

"It's five minutes to the nearest manhole, straight sewer, we'll never
make it with the pack I can hear behind us on our heals. You get her
out of here and I'll seal the tunnel for you."

"That's signing your own death warrant isn't it?" asked Gruber calmly.

"Yes, but it doesn't last with us now does it. Besides, I could use a
new body, this one's been scratched." Stranger thought for a second.
"Tell me something, does she have any sisters or brothers?"

Gruber nodded "Two sisters, one brother."

Stranger nodded. "I thought, well, it doesn't matter what I thought.
This makes us even, yes?"

Gruber offered his hand and Stranger shook it.

"Yes."

"Good, get the hell out of here."

Gruber started sprinting down the tunnel, Stranger watched him go.

"You win again Gruber. You win again."

He turned and fired a short burst down the tunnel behind him, he could
see several aliens advancing cautiously on him. They charged as he
emptied the magazine. Without another weapon to hand he fired the
underbarrel grenade launcher at the nearest alien, blowing it apart
and shattering several nearby aliens. He felt the hot sting of
xenomorph blood across his cheek as the blast threw him onto the
floor.

Frantically, he ejected the clip from his rifle and slammed a new one
into place just in time to fire a long burst into another alien that
almost reached him.

Another wave was coming up the tunnel, he scrambled to his feet and
fired a long, controlled burst into it, walking his fire across the
advancing aliens. Eventually the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

Instead of reloading, Stranger reached into one of the larger belt
pouches under his coat.

"I hope you've got far enough Gruber."

The aliens advanced cautiously on him, unsure of themselves now they
faced no apparent opposition. They moved up on their tormentor,
examining him.

Stranger could feel their hot breath, he stared into the double jaws
of the nearest one, it hissed and snapped at him. He grinned.

"You know, you look taller on the TV."

Aa the aliens reached out to strike at him, he pressed the button on
the device in his hand.

Far away, Gruber felt the earth around him shake and heard the distant
boom of a very large explosion in a very small space.

Minutes later he crawled out of the manhole and collapsed on the
ground. Mary was badly shaken and hurt, but she would live.

"OK Stranger," he muttered "the circle of fire ends here."

...and there we are. Not that I'm in a dark mood at the moment or
anything :-)

Stranger

[1] GURPS Ultra Tech - six barrels, short range rocket launcher
=================================
Subject: Foreshadowing
Date: Thu, 04 Jan 2001 08:21:01 +0000

On Wed, 03 Jan 2001 23:31:50 -0800
Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00009170

Harlock bids his new-found companions farewell. From a quick tickle
with Tink to a deep kiss with Rhia, he works his way through those
members of the CAoL who have turned out to see him off. As he steps
through the portal for home, a gut-wrenching sensation tells him that
something has happened. Something has gone terribly wrong somehow.

Stumbling out the other side, the Bard finds himself...nowhere. Much
like his experience in the void of EmptyWorld, actually, as he is
standing on nothing. Unlike EmptyWorld, however, he sees nothing in
any direction save for himself.

A chuckle echoes softly out of nowhere. "Marvelous. It worked.
Welcome, Harlock, to your new home. I hope you dislike it, because
you'll be spending the rest of your days here. Ah, but that's right,
Oghma granted you eternal youth, didn't he? Well, then, the rest of
your days would consist of forever, wouldn't it?"



The Bard awakes in a cold sweat. The walls of Fuzzy's castle surround
him. Not as familiar as the whitewashed lathe-and-plaster walls of his
room in the Bardic College, perhaps, but not the inky nothingness of
his dream, either. Still not fully conscious, he whispers "thank the
gods. 'Twas but a dream."

Was it just his imagination, or did somebody whisper "...this time..."
in his ear?
=================================