Seven people are on the bridge of the Ortega. Frederic, Jennifer, Daphnix, Ami, Rei, David, and Jessica. Since nothing special is going on, they're talking among themselves, holding up the conversations that had been started at breakfast.
Suddenly, all conversation stops, and seven pairs of eyes meet. Dread works its way up the nerves of the people present.
Without a word, Daphnix turns to his tactical station, and starts running sensor sweeps. At the exact same time, Jennifer turns to the Science station, running sweeps, using her sensors. Frederic closes his eyes, settles back, and starts scanning with his mental powers. The others remain deadly quiet, the sinking sensation that something was terribly wrong now too strong to ignore.
"I couldn't find it," Daphnix reports with a dead voice.
"Me neither," Jennifer grunts, turning back to the rest. "And I don't like it."
Frederic opens his eyes, and an eerie quiet descends over the bridge. He did not need to say anything. The people present just know that he too, came up empty.
"Linda, could you contact ESMF central command? To see if anything's wrong over there?" Frederic asks.
I already did, the female voice answers. Nothing is wrong. Except for the fact that everyone's shutting up, and the entire fleet is on yellow alert, everything's fine.
"They feel it, too?"
Incoming call. Universe 001, Barbara. Before Frederic can take it, Linda says, Incoming call, Universe 001, Buffy. And ... universe 052, Freda ... and, Jonny Quest ... and, Rocky.
"Jeezes! They're ALL calling in?" Jennifer grunts.
"We haven't gotten a call from Starfleet," Daphnix offers meekly.
Jean-Luc Picard, Kathryn Janeway, Benjamin Sisko, and Starfleet command on communication, Borlan adds in.
"You just had to say that, did you?" Jennifer tells Daphnix.
"Sorry?" Daphnix says.
ESMF central command couldn't find anything wrong either. The entire fleet is now on red alert. Borlan reports. I just thought you'd like to know...
"Thanks, B. Add to the tension, why don't you," Frederic grunts.
"All those people are still waiting," Jennifer tells the rest. "And I see that BorgFred's now on hold as well... hey, look at this, guys! Sorcerer's here, too!"
Frederic grunts and slumps in his command chair. "Get them all on split-screen."
Immediately, the viewscreen splits into a lot of tinier screens, each one contained at least two or three people.
Frederic takes a deep breath. I HATE public speaking!
"I take it everyone present felt that too? If anyone has an explanation, please speak up, because we on the Ortega have no fucking clue as to what it is!!!"
A flash of light accompanies six new arrivals. All the people on the viewscreen gasp in shock. The people on the Ortega turn around... before gasping.
<<ALL SIX Gods? Who in hell did we piss off??>> Daphnix asks.
<<I don't know. What's bigger than God?>> Frederic asks. "Wise One," he says, bowing slightly before the center figure of the council of Gods.
"Young Phalanx." <<O-oh. One of those visits,>> Frederic grunts mentally.
"No. Worse," The Wise One replies verbally. Frederic looks shocked, but manages to compose himself.
"What? The First of the Destroyers is after us now?" Frederic asks.
"This is no time to joke around. Something that never should have happened, has happened."
Frederic's eyes opened. <<Joking? About the FIRST of the DESTROYERS being after us? What the FUCK is going on here?>> "Okay, spill it. What's going on?"
"Right this very moment, there are events unfolding in a parallel universe over which we have almost no control."
"What can we do?" Frederic asked, voicing the opinion of almost everybody connected.
"Pray," the answer came. the dread-feeling increased a hundredfold.
"Excuse me," Buffy interjected. "To WHOM do we pray?"
"There is a chance we might be able to do something, but it is slim, and it will take everything we have," a female god responds.
Frederic rubs his forehead. "I just know I am going to regret this question, but... care to tell us what this big threat is?"
The Wise One thinks for half a second, then waves his hand in front of Frederic's face. Frederic promptly falls back in his chair, pale as a ghost. Slowly, he buries his face in his hands.
"Fuck," Frederic grunts, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.
Jennifer, Daphnix, and about half the Master Slayers shout at the same time, "What?"
"You tell 'em," Frederic grunts at the Wise One.
The Wise One nods to Frederic, then begins. "As you have experienced in your travels, among the infinite number of universes and dimensions, anything is possible. The problem is... in one of those dimensions, there is an author who writes science fiction stories."
"What does that have to do with us?" Jennifer asks.
"Well... Think about Luke Skywalker and George Lucas..." the Wise One says, hesitantly.
After a long, stunned moment, Daphnix responds, "Are you saying that we are STORY CHARACTERS?!?"
The six gods all nod once.
"It gets worse," the Wise One continues. "He has friends... and they just got together for the first time!"
"And the bad news is?" Jennifer leads the Wise One on.
"One is another author, and the other is their editor... Together, they have the potential for being MUCH worse than each by himself," the Wise One says, gravely.
Frederic, for the first time since his memory was restored, speaks. "How... much... worse?"
One of the other gods speaks up. "Their ideas feed off of each other. As bad as anything you have faced to date, those events were as nothing compared to what those three have already thought up within the first 15 minutes since Xanthos' arrival on the scene -- never mind what was being dreamt up before he got there!"
Ami points out, "You said that you have at least some effect there though, right?"
"Some," the Wise One replies. "We'll do everything we can. In fact, we have already been trying to thwart their attempts at getting together."
The other gods nod in agreement.
One of the gods looks toward the screen and nods at it, changing its display to a current view of what is happening in that alternate dimension.
*****
"You'll have to use a tourist visa," Grossclout typed in his ICQ message box. "We can't get you a green card unless you have two years worth of experience."
"Damn," Enterprise1701_d replied. "How long do I have on a tourist visa?"
"90 days," Grossclout answered. "Still... We need good computer technicians over here. I don't know why they won't let you come over and work for me, even without experience."
Enterprise1701_d sent a shrug through his ICQ box. "That excuse about the waiting list being too long is strange, but then again... I'm not in the U.S., so how in hell would I know, right? :) "
We weren't able to interfere with Xanthos' initial meeting with Enterprise1701_d, but as he was getting ready to leave the pair after his first visit, he suddenly became much more active in throwing out ideas for Enterprise1701_d and Grossclout to consider. We knew beyond any doubt that we had to keep them from getting together again.
"Have a safe drive back," Grossclout responded.
Xanthos nodded, heading out to his Pontiac Grand Am.
After stopping to get gas and some food for his trip back, he started on the road back home -- a 180-mile trip. Just before turning to get back on the Interstate highway, Xanthos was stopped at an intersection, waiting for a green light so he could turn. When the light changed, the way was clear, so he started his turn. When he was about halfway through the turn, he looked to his side and saw a large, green pickup truck coming quickly at him, obviously not planning on stopping. Xanthos' grip tightened on the steering wheel as he floored the gas-pedal.
The truck didn't swerve or slow down at all -- but Xanthos' reaction and decent acceleration got him out of the way with less than a foot to spare.
As the truck goes flying through the intersection, Xanthos looks in his rear-view mirror... and sees the other driver talking on his cell-phone.
Xanthos just shakes his head, glad that he got out of that, alive.
We would have continued our efforts, if the following conversation hadn't taken place a couple of days later.
"Yeah. I was lucky to get out of that one. If I hadn't floored it ..." Xanthos replies.
"You know, with all the trouble I've had to come over here, and now this... It's almost like that little scene you sent by email... I really think the Gods don't want us together," Enterprise1701_d sends.
Xanthos couldn't agree more.
As he drives into town, rain starts pouring down, and Xanthos switches radio stations to one of the local stations. Tornado warnings greet him, claiming that several tornadoes had touched down.
I need more power! One of the Gods shouted. We almost have him! The others channel their remaining power to the one God.
For Xanthos, the rain intensifies, and the wind picks up. Now almost completely unable to see anything through the windshield, Xanthos manages, against all odds, to make it home safely.
We just couldn't do it, The Wise One said. All we can do now is hope...
---
GEX Group
May 2001