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[UF][Fanfic] Dimension Hopping, Part 1

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Pearson Mui

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Jan 13, 1998, 3:00:00 AM1/13/98

The Strange Medium Guy with a Bad Haircut
Presents
A Tale of Undocumented Features
Dimension Hopping: Not Quite Home
A Leap Years story
PROLOGUE

The omnipotent, as all of his kind were able to do, watched intently
through time and space, observing a single being. That being was, in the
omnipotent's opinion, not particularly interesting, and certainly nothing
truly special to behold from the former's appearance. What that person had
experienced, however, made him quite unique.
Q pondered what to do. The continuum had given him a wide variety of
means at his disposal to keep his subject, one Pearson "Doc" Mui in check,
death or elimination from the timeline being the only exceptions.
[This is boring,] Q thought to himself. [I think I'd rather watch the
slug-worms of Festus III begin their hibernation than this person's puny life.
Hmm...] The omnipotent noticed that, out in what humans would call the Deneb
sector, a small tear in the fabric of time and space was forming. Such rifts
were hardly an unusual encounter for a being of his age and power. They were
like gnats...annoying, at times, and hardly worth the exertion one would use to
seal them.
[Well...if I can't kill him, and I can't eliminate him from this timeline
altogether, I might as well have *some* fun. Besides...hurling him through a
few dimensions should keep him nice and humble.]
With barely a gesture, Q moved the rift.
[This should be interesting...]

DECEMBER 20, 1993
HOFFMAN ESTATES, ILLINOIS
(1 year, 1 month after leaping)

Pearson's mind wandered as he drove along Palatine Road on his way home,
the occasional snow flurry melting against the windshield of his car. The
snow had begun a few minutes ago, and the salt trucks and plows hadn't shown
up yet. That was all right, because traction wasn't a problem with his car,
a hoverconverted DeLorean. He'd switched it to hover mode (which gained him
a good foot of clearance) after idly checking for people around him.
The past year had been relatively uneventful for him, with one notable
exception, namely, the rather abrupt appearance of the very car he was driving.
Inside were several necessary souvenirs: a medical kit with tricorder, circa
2388, and a British-Animetech focused particle beam saber, circa 2345.
This was not, however, what was depressing him five days before Christmas,
although it was part of the problem. It wasn't even the fact that he was
practically immortal. He was just thinking about what he would have to do in
a few years, all for the sake of the space-time continuum.
An intermittent flash from the time travel display caught his eye, the
LED readout blinking in no particular pattern.
[Hmmm...that's odd. The time circuits are supposed to be deactivated.]
Pulling over to the side of the road, he grabbed the tricorder from the medkit
and took a reading. Sure enough, the time circuits *were* off. [What could've
happened to set the thing off like that?]
He scanned the area with both his eyes and the tricorder. [Nothing...
nothing...whoa! What was that?!]
In the middle of an open field, he could just make out an area where the
snow seemed to disappear...about seven feet off the ground. It was almost as
if there was a previously invisible door which was revealed by the snow.
"My duckish curiosity is piqued," he muttered, driving towards the
anomaly. As a precaution, he hooked the beam saber on his belt and grabbed the
medkit. The saber seemed to fade away, courtesy of a sophisticated holo-
projector hooked up to the saber's power supply. After all, introducing
future technology to the past was definitely a Bad Thing (tm).
Stepping out of the car, he was surprised to find that the area around
the anomaly was a comfy 70 degrees Fahrenheit, so he shed his coat.
[Interesting,] he thought. It appeared to be a time-space rift. Obviously,
since there wasn't any medical emergency, he placed the medical bag on the
car's hood, but continued to scan the rift before him.
[Waitaminute, what am I doing?] This was all very interesting, but he
had to get home. Turning towards his car, he noticed that the light dusting of
snow it had received was melting from front to rear. [I must've parked closer
to this thing than I thought.] Then the realization hit him. The anomaly was
heading towards him!
Less than a microsecond after he completed that thought, he seemed to
vanish in thin air, sinking in the ground with a yelp as he let go of his
tricorder. It followed him shortly thereafter, as did the DeLorean and the
medical bag.
Now, being a relatively ordinary person, he did what most people might do
if they were plummeting through time and space.
He started to scream his lungs out.
"WAAAAUUUUGGGH!"

QUAGMIRE, USA
A SMALL MID-WESTERN TOWN
DECEMBER 10, 1993
DIMENSIONAL DISPLACEMENT: 1

"YEEAAARRRRGH! OOF! OOOH! OOH! Owwww...owie, owie, owie. Yyeah, that
was fun..." Doc commented as he dropped ten feet out of nowhere to land
(well, it was more like roll) on the hard and unforgiving earth. In the back
of his head, he felt...something. It wasn't a headache, but it was definitely
a vague sense that something was wrong. [Hey...where the heck *am* I?] he
wondered. Turning around, he was greeted by a sign that read "WELCOME TO
QUAGMIRE, MICHIGAN" lit by floodlamps in the darkness.
[Quagmire? Hey, didn't Ambassador Feeple come from around these parts?
Waitasec. I didn't think Quagmire was *in* Michigan.]
Before he had a chance to continue that line of thought, he heard someone
from behind him cry out "Hold it!"
"Huh? Wha?" [Waitasec...those guys look like...] he peered closer at the
approaching figures. [Yeah, they're definitely Salusians. Wonder howcome
they're not in their humanform? I mean, they should try to be a *little*
inconspicuous...unless they've already made first contact or something.]
"Uh...hi, guys. How's it--"
WHUMP! He was abruptly grabbed and slammed against the sign by the more
built of the trio that approached him. "Owww..." he observed as his glasses
were mashed against his face.
"Shut up, Terran scum!" the lead Salusian barked. "What are you doing
out after curfew?"
"Uh, well, I was...UMF!" Doc was smashed further into the sign.
"Did I say you could talk, worm?" the leader asked with a generous
helping of malice creeping into his voice. "Terrans...just because they can
walk upright, they think they have a spine."
"Look, guys...(ow, watch it)...I think there's been a minor
misunderstanding, here. I just got into town, and...OW!"
"Rrright...with no transportation and no mention of a transportation log
on file? Gentlemen, I believe we've captured ourselves a vagrant. Or,
perhaps...a spy plotting against Imperial Salusia."
"SPY?! Look, I'm *married* to a Salusian..." Okay, maybe this wasn't
exactly the best thing to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind.
All three Salusians broke out in raucous laughter. "*MARRIED*?! A
Salusian who would lower herself to the level of you pathetic humans? Now, I
*know* you're lying about something. In the twenty years since we have
conquered this puny planet, I doubt that relations have improved *that* much
between you humans and us."
The doctor was forcibly whipped away from the sign, and for the first
time, he saw the face of his interrogator.
"Aric..." he whispered.
"You know me, then, do you? You have me at an advantage, then...and I
*don't* like Terrans having an advantage." The dark-furred Salusian's face
hardened. "Perhaps some time with the nerve-lash will loosen your tongue. If
it doesn't...ah, well...this world will *hardly* miss one person of your
insignificance. But then...what are Terrans, compared to the glorious
Salusian race?"
[Ladies and gentlemen, Aric Ajlond has just left the realm of sanity.]
he thought, the quip appearing in his head unprompted.
A sense of...something almost like danger entered his mind. Instinctively,
he shifted a few feet to the left. At the same time, his medical tricorder and
black bag appeared, ten feet above the ground, and fell directly towards
Aric.
"Wha?" Whack! WHUMP! Both items impacted squarely on Aric's head,
rendering him quite unconscious.
"What the--?"
"Shoot him! Nobody'll miss---URK!!"
[What in the world?] Pearson wondered why he wasn't perforated right now.
He peered at the darkened area, and noticed that both Salusians had been
victim to a 2.8 ton DeLorean, the latter having fallen from ten feet out of
nowhere. Currently, the car was hovering over the two, the repulsor field
from the tires doing its best to turn them two-dimensional.
With an effort, Doc pushed the car off of them and took a preliminary
scan. They were obviously unconscious, but they were pretty well off
otherwise. Their ribs would heal in about five or six days, that is, if all
things were constant.
It was obvious to him that he wasn't, to coin the phrase, exactly in
Kansas anymore. If he peered at the night sky at just the right angle, he
could just barely make out the silhouettes of Salusian ships hovering several
thousand feet above the surface.
There were currently only two explanations for the situation which he had
just experienced: He had either gone absolutely and totally insane, or he was
in a parallel universe. He chose the latter option, seeing as how he didn't
have any sudden urges to worship mold as the supreme being or some other
abnormal (for him) behavior.
[Huwaaahhh...Great. Just friggin GREAT! It's not enough that I go
hurling through through time. Nooo...I've gotta go through alternate
DIMENSIONS, TOO!] He sighed. [Did I kill a nun in a past life or something?]
he wondered, not for the first time.
[Well, I might as well check this world out. I've got a feeling that I
might be here for a while.]
Entering the car, he closed the gull-wing door and jetted off towards the
lights of the nearby town.

The town of Quagmire was quiet, which was perfectly normal considering
the time of night. Silently, and under cloak, Pearson jetted through the
town, seeing no signs of activity other than the occasional uniformed Salusian
striding through the streets: No bars, no late-night parties, no house
lights...nothing.
[What is this, the Salusians are the law or something? This just gets
weirder all the time.]
Cautiously, he zoomed in on one of the guards, increasing both the
magnification and the sound sensitivity of the camera's microphone.
<Y'know, I don't even know why we bother.> one of the guards grumbled in
his native language. <This planet's pacified. Hell, it didn't put up much of
a fight when we came here twenty years ago.>
<I know what you mean.> the other guard agreed. <This duty really
stinks.>
["Pacified?" Waitaminute. The Salusians officially contacted Earth in
1999. The way these guys are putting it, it's like they invaded or
something. Let's see if I can't tap into a satellite view...]
Tapping a few controls, he was rewarded with a map of his immediate
vicinity. Zooming out a few times, he confirmed that he was indeed, in
Michigan. To be precise, a few miles south of Ann Arbor.
[Wish Marty was here,] he sighed. [He'd know this area better than I
do. Then again, judging from what I've seen, I don't think he'd like it any
better than I do.]

It was shortly before morning when he refueled Mr. Fusion. Thankfully,
the generator wasn't particularly picky about the kind of material it
consumed; as long as it had hydrogen, it would do. Besides, Pearson would
need the extra power if he was going to keep running under cloak.
The place he had chosen, however, was less than ideal. It was, in fact,
a small garbage dump on the edge of town.
Pearson breathed out a frosty plume as he closed up Mr. Fusion. He tried
not to think about what he'd tossed into his car as he held his breath. In
the dim light, he could make out bits and pieces of Salusian refuse, ranging
from scrapped repulsor lifts to pulverized navigational arrays. Of course,
human detritus was rather well-represented here as well. Trash jutted out of
the mounds of waste, like some parody of a dinosaur dig...or graves to things
that were once useful. The rather bleak setting contributed to the feeling
that he was in something out of the Terminator movies.
Refueling done, he decided to check out the town. After all, he couldn't
exactly get very much information by skulking about in the car, now could he?
There was even the odd chance that he might find some work. But, just in
case, he prepped the emergency call ot the car in his watch. No sense taking
chances.

"Excuse me." Pearson began, trying to get a man's attention.
The man just walked by, oblivious.
[Ookay...that worked well.] he thought to himself. [Maybe this lady'll
be more friendly.]
"Pardon me, miss..."
The woman walked right past him, barely affording him a glance.
[This is getting annoying.] Just about every human he'd encountered
just blew him off.
"Is there something wrong?" A voice asked from behind him. Pearson
turned around to face a grizzled-looking Vindari Salusian, his grey fur
looking somewhat askew. The Salusian looked surprised when the doctor looked
at him.
"Well, I was just about to ask for directions, maybe find a place to
work."
"Work, hm?" The Vindari pondered this situation. "You'll find work
three blocks down, make a right." He pointed the direction.
"All right...thanks."
The Vindari only smiled, then continued on his way. For some reason, he
must have found the whole situation amusing, as he'd chuckled until he was out
of sight.
[Strange guy.] Pearson thought to himself. [Oh, well...at least it's
a start.]
Five minutes later, he arrived at a rather large building, with
slate-grey walls. People were milling about inside, if "milling" was the
word for it. There was a malaise, an indifference, that permeated the humans
working in some sort of courtyard. Several Salusians were talking harshly
to the humans, shouting at them.
"Back to work, human scum!" A voice shouted, just before a reverberating
CRACK! split the air. Inwardly, Pearson winced at the sound, which was made
even worse by the sound of barely-controlled agony.
[I...don't think this is the kind of work I want.] he decided.
He eyed the situation. All around were some sort of energized
force-field gates, effectively blocking most means of escape. The Salusian
guard held a metal grip, from which what appeared to be an energy whip flowed
with his movements. Where the whip struck, there was no physical mark, but
it was obvious that it induced pure agony in the unfortunate.
"I said, back to work. You humans disgust me," SNAP! "Always believing
that just because you can speak, that means you can think." SNAP! "Move!"
One unfortunate in particular barely propped himself up on the ground,
his arms shaking. He drew ragged, unsteady breaths, pain wracking his lanky
frame as he tried to get to his feet.
"What's the matter?" the guard jeered. "Can't even do such a simple
thing as to stand up? Why don't I *help* you up?" Once again, he raised
the whip.
However, a blue-white bolt from above sizzled towards his whip with a
resonant ZRATCH! Blue lightning enveloped the device as it shorted out. A
second bolt, from approximately the same place, struck the guard's head,
causing instantaneous cerebral agony.
Pearson holstered the ion gun back in his jacket and peered out of the
shadows which comprised his vantage point. More guards were circulating
out of the compound, deactivating portions of the fence. For a brief moment,
the doctor caught sight of the person he'd just saved (although that could be
considered relative in this world), and the thin man did the same.
Turning around, he slowly walked away, ignoring the troops that rushed
behind him. As he rounded the corner, he activated the holoprojector on
his saber and stood still, effectively vanishing within the scenery. Minutes
later, they were gone...and so was he.

It was day two of his extended recon. The doctor had taken to heart the
old adage of hiding in plain sight. Most of the humans he observed looked
tired and broken, and all of them were wearing gold or silver watches with a
strange bulge at the wrist. He didn't think it was a fashion statement.
It was a good thing that the DeLorean was close by, somewhere above him.
He'd programmed it to stay within 100 feet of him, cloaked. It was a
tremendous power drain, but he wanted to make sure the car was where he
needed it in a pinch.
"Hold it right there, human." a Salusian voice grumbled.
Pearson caught himself in mid-step. [Uh-oh...] Turning around, he faced
the Salusian guard, careful not to look him in the eye. He'd observed that
humans who accidentally did this often found themselves embedded into the
concrete. That, and a healthy dose of "yes, sir" and "no, sir" seemed to keep
most humans out of trouble.
"Is there a problem, sir?" he said carefully.
"I haven't seen you around here before. Where are you from?"
"Chicago. Sir."
"Where are your transfer papers?"
"I...thought everything was processed on computers. Sir." [Hoboy, I do
*not* need this.]
The Salusian half-smiled. "They are, for the most part. What's your
name? Just to satisfy my curiosity, mind you."
[Red alert! Red alert! I am in big trouble, here...] he thought
nervously. [No-win situation. If I tell him and he looks it up, he'll get
suspicious. If I don't, he'll get suspicious. He's waiting...damn!]
"It's..."
"There you are!" a feminine voice exclaimed.
Instinctively, the two of them turned to the source: A rather
young-looking, yet mature, Salusian woman, her dark brown hair trailing behind
her. At her side was was that same tall, lanky fellow he'd seen before.
Pearson noted that the guy kept himself at a discreet distance from the
Salusian woman, probably signifying that she had some sort of influence over
him.
"Thank you so much, sergeant!" she continued. "I have been looking all
over for you, you *despicable* excuse for a servant. Why I don't let my
brother use you for target practice, I simply *don't* know."
"You...know this human?" the sergeant asked.
"Yes, and I have regretted every minute of it. Sometimes I think he's
more trouble than he's worth. Then again, he does have his moments." She
finished with a suggestive smile.
"I'm sure he does," the sergeant said, all too quickly. "Do you have
any problems with this, human?"
"No sir, none at all. I'm sorry, mistress..." inwardly, he winced at
using that word, "I guess I got a little sidetracked."
"Hm. Come along...I might as well salvage *something* of today. You
too, Martin."
[Martin?] Pearson thought. [Naaaah...]

As soon as the car stopped in front of a fairly modest home, the Salusian
woman whirled around in her seat and fixed a glare at Martin.
"What was so important about him that you had to drag me from my
shopping?" she asked pointedly.
"He...I owed him." Martin said simply, not looking at her in the eye.
"Hm. It's rare that I actually witness loyalty in your species, Martin.
Most of the time, I'm surrounded by toadies and yes-men. It's almost
refreshing to see that humans have a backbone." she looked thoughtful.
"What's your name?"
"Pearson Mui, Miss...?"
"Ajlond. Keriyn Ajlond. `Miss' will suffice. Well, seeing as how you
were merely meandering about, I don't suppose you'd object to helping out?"
"None." [I *knew* she looked familiar!]
"Good." Her mouth curled into what might have been a smile under happier
circumstances. "Martin will show you around. Oh, and before you get any
ideas about escape, keep in mind that the premises are monitored."

"...here's the kitchen, and the bathrooms are down there. Any
questions?"
"Just one...uh, do you mind if I call you Marty?"
"Yes."
"Martin, then. What was your last name again?"
"Rose. Why?"
"Just wondering." [Huwaaaahhh....]
"We'd better get going. The High and Mighty One is coming home soon, and
you don't want to catch him in a bad mood." Martin warned.
"And that would be...?"
"Keriyn's father, Renar Ajlond. I'm surprised that you haven't heard of
him. He's only one of Salusia's `finest engineering minds,' or so they keep
telling me." Martin finished with more than a tinge of sarcasm. "Her brother
Aric's been out for the last couple of days. Good thing, too. I can't *stand*
the guy."

Pearson leaned against a wall, tired from his first day as a drudge.
He'd done almost every domestic task imaginable, and then some. The head of
the house, Renar Ajlond, seemed impassive at the addition of yet another hand,
but Keriyn convinced him that it was only a temporary measure.
It was late, and everyone except the other servants were in bed. Pearson
saw a light in the kitchen and investigated it. He found Martin doing a
midnight raid on the fridge. Not that he could be blamed. Dinner for the
servants was, at best, scanty.
"Looking for something?" Pearson inquired.
"Something that doesn't bite back. You'll be amazed at what Salusians
can eat."
"Not really." This earned him a questioning glance from Martin. "I...just
wanted to thank you for this morning. You really stuck your neck out back
there for me."
The taller man straightened out of the icebox and shrugged in a hauntingly
familiar way. "S'okay. Guess you could call it payback." Taking out a small
bottle of dark liquid, he poured out two mugs and set them on the table. He
sat down, gesturing for Pearson to do the same.
"I wasn't keeping score or anything."
"You're not from around here, are you?" Martin inquired.
"How could you tell?"
"Well, for one thing, you don't bow and scrape to every Salusian you see.
For another, you don't have that little hint of fear in your eyes."
"Why should I be afraid of Salusians? Other than the fact that they can
easily pound me into a thin paste, that is. And what's with the `I'm better
because I'm Salusian' attitude?"
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Good point. You know where the northwest suburbs of Chicago are?
That's where I'm from."
Martin eyed him dubiously. "You're not telling me something."
"For good reason. If I did, you'd think I was crazy."
"And the world's such a sane place?"
"Where I came from, it was. Relatively."
Martin sighed. "You know, when I was a kid, I always used to wonder
`what if.' I kept wondering what would've happened if the Salusians came in
peace instead of coming to pound us in the war. Some war," he snorted.
"Three days of orbital bombardment, and we call it quits."
"I don't suppose there was much of a choice."
"Has anybody ever told you that you have this talent for
understatement?"
"Yeah, somebody who's a lot like you. So, tell me, how'd you end up
working for Ms. Congeniality and her Rabid Drooling Brother?"
Martin almost cracked a smile. "I'm on a work program. When I'm not at
the camps, I help out here. I got a lucky break, seeing as how I don't have
to face the nerve lash everyday. They treat me well, all things considered."
"What about your family?"
"Don't ask." Martin said abruptly. That meant any number of things,
none of them pleasant.
Pearson held up his palms, as if to ward off the cold glare Martin
threw at him. "Sorry. Stupid question."
"You didn't know." Martin sighed and looked down into his cup. Taking a
sip, he grimaced. Pearson took a slug of the stuff himself, and reacted
similarly.
"Ugh. What *is* this stuff?" he asked, contorting his face into a
variety of grimaces.
"About the only stuff we can drink besides water and milk. It's some
kinda high-nutrition goop for the lower-class citizens."
"Meaning humans."
"Exactly. What I wouldn't give for a decent soda around this place!"
"When I find one, I'll let you know." Pearson promised, subtly shoving
the cup away from him.
"Yeah, right." An insistent beeping pierced the air, the source being
Martin's bracelet. "Duty calls," he sighed, dumping the gunk out of the
cup and rinsing it. Almost nervously, he rubbed the golden band. "Keep
yourself out of trouble, okay?"
"I'll do my best."

"May I ask where you're going? If I may be so bold, that is." Pearson
added quickly. It was shortly after breakfast time, but Martin had informed
him that Keriyn was not a morning person. Then again, the doctor knew that
from personal experience.
Keriyn sighed, her glare not as sharp as it could have been. "To the
hospital. My brother's been involved in an...incident."
"Ah."
"No further questions?"
"I'm just the hired help, as it were."
Keriyn seemed to consider this. "You're not used to being subservient,
are you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You've said nothing. Your eyes, however, tell me much. They have a
defiance in them, indicative of a person unwilling to be broken. They're
also much too intelligent to be those of a servant."
"And this disturbs you?"
"It's different. I find it...intriguing."
"It's interesting that you're investing so much time into observing
humans. We're only inferior beings, after all." His tone was not quite
mocking.
"Are you attempting to be impudent?"
"Hardly, mistress. It was only an observation."
"Hm. Rest assured that I will find out everything I want to know about
you. Security forces are quite thorough that way."
"And spoil the mystery? Seems like I've sparked more interest in you
than it would seem."
"Are there any other observations that you care to share with me?"
"Only of you. I see a person of considerable prestige, laboring under
the shadow of one of Salusia's finest engineering minds. I see a person
capable of great compassion, yet blinded by the one-sidedness of her
upbringing. In another time and place, we might have become friends, maybe
more."
"We shall never know," she murmured, almost to herself. She attempted
to regain some of her brisk manner. "I expect lunch to be served promptly at
noon, and hot. My `compassion' can only be stretched so far."
With a twirl of her ponytail, she left.
"You were playing a dangerous game." Martin informed him from the door.
"Maybe. Maybe I touched something within her. Deep down, she could have
been a good person."
"You know her, then?"
Pearson shook his head. "I only know what she might be, Martin."
"I hate it when you talk in riddles."
"Ancient Chinese secret."
"Hm. Oh, I heard we're having guests tonight."
"Really? Who?"
"Commandant Perry Aldzinjal's wife and her servant, Lawrence."
"Yay." Pearson replied without enthusiasm.
"Tell me about it. The guy's a boot-licker of the first calibre. Of
course, to survive under Perry Aldzinjal, you sort of have to be."
"Wonderful. Guess that says a lot about my potential lifespan, hm?"
"Not unless you're careful."

After lunch, Keriyn made her way to the nearest spaceport, namely
Detroit, with Pearson and Martin in tow. They waited for an ungainly-looking
brick-shaped shuttle to land on the tarmac, the gear emerging for a perfect
three-point landing.
The passengers, one female Cheltari Salusian and her manservant,
disembarked from the ramp which folded down. Keriyn strode towards the
other woman.
"I'm glad you could come, Mirya," she began. "I only wish that the
circumstances were better."
"How is Aric?" the other woman asked. Behind her, the tall man began
keying instructions for the shuttle's cargo bay door.
"Unconscious, but stable. His friends told me that a...that a *human*
somehow did this."
"How?" Mirya asked.
"Apparently, a rather large object fell on him. If I find the human
who did this to him, I shall personally..."
The rest of the conversation was lost as Lawrence hefted the bags and
handed them to Martin and Pearson. He was a somewhat heavy-set man, about
6'6, with dark hair and a trimmed beard. The ease with which he handled the
heavy luggage indicated that he'd gone through this ritual many times before.
Without saying a word, he indicated that the bags were to be loaded into
Keriyn's car.
[Cheery fellow,] Pearson thought sourly.
Lawrence marched stiffly towards the two women, his eyes never
approaching their faces. He bowed severely, almost to the point of
prostating himself.
"I regret that I was not able to make formal introductions, Lady Keriyn,
house of Ajlond, but my own human frailties prevented such a courtesy. May I
say, however, that from my own unworthy vantage point, you look as lovely as
ever, always in the bloom of youth."
"Well-trained as ever." Keriyn commented.
"The nerve lash is an excellent disciplinary tool," Mirya replied. "Of
course, we found that out when you were only ten, didn't we, Lawrence?"
"Yes, Mistress," he replied dutifully. "But I was in error that time,
and it was deserved."
[I think I may have to hurt this guy, if only to spare my ears.] the
doctor grumbled mentally. A quick glance from Martin warned him against
it.
"I see you've added another ape to your collection." Mirya remarked,
lightening the conversation somewhat.
"He does come in handy," she admitted, then lowered her voice. "He's
actually fairly bright as apes go. He adjusted to my personal tastes very
quickly. Why...he even helped make my favorite breakfast, without my even
asking." [How did he know what brand of tea I liked?] she wondered. [There
must have been at least a dozen boxes in the pantry, and yet he picked it out
without hesitation.]
"Lawrence is quite...adequate...for most of my needs. Whatever is left,
Perry provides for."
"I've learned that one should never be totally dependent on one person.
Pearson!" she called out, just as he'd finished loading the bags.
"Yes, Mistress?" he asked, careful to avert his eyes. Saying those two
words, for him, did not get any easier with practice.
"This is Mirya Aldzinjal. While she is visiting us, I expect her to want
for nothing. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly."

The ride back was relatively uneventful. On the outside, Lawrence was
the perfect servant, anticipating the needs of Mirya. When he didn't think
anyone was looking, however, there was something in his eyes that showed
that he wasn't totally broken. There was a hint of...well, perhaps not
defiance, but a spark of longing for something else.
Pearson knew better than to ask.

"If I may ask, Mirya," Keriyn began. Dinnertime had come, and the
various servants milled around the two. "How is Perry doing?"
"Quite well, thank you. He's taking care of some Zardon dissidents as
we speak." Mirya sipped at her drink. "How's your father?"
"He's fine. He's been working on the latest FTL engine designs, so he's
had to put in some late hours."
"A necessary evil." Mirya agreed. "Renar was always intense when he
worked on a project. It used to frustrate Keril to no end until I had a chat
with her. Still, I think you've grown up quite nicely, all things
considered."
Keriyn's composure slipped just a bit. "I, uh--thank you."
Mirya nodded. "Your mother and I were good friends, you know. I think
she would've been proud to see you brought up correctly, a proper Salusian."
She leaned in close. "Never forget who you are, and where you came from.
You're better than most, and that's not just because of your bloodline."
"Thank you." Keriyn repeated.
"Well, enough flattery. You're probably beginning to think that I'm
going to ask for money or something." The older woman smiled, then turned
towards the kitchen entrance. "Now, where is that--"
Lawrence strode briskly from the kitchen, carrying two bowls of steaming
soup. Without a word, he gently set the bowls before the two women and
departed, all the while not looking at their eyes.
"*That*," Mirya began, "is my finest servant. You know, if you train
them right, it'll almost be like they can read your mind."
"I've had no problems with Martin."
"Oh, no...I'm not talking about him. It's that new addition of yours."
Mirya's voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "Seems to need a little
taste of the lash once in a while, just to get him going. He doesn't seem to
be a bad sort, but he'll be better once he's been broken--in, I mean."
"I see." Keriyn responded in a blandly neutral tone.
"Oh, it's not as cruel as some might think. I mean, humans are just
inferior. They can't help it. If we hadn't taken control, they would've
blown themselves to atoms in some stupid nuclear war, and then where would we
be? No, things are better now."
"I'll...take care of him in the morning." There was definitely
hesitation in her voice.
"That'll be fine. Just don't let him get a streak of independence or
anything."
Keriyn was rather quiet for the rest of the evening.

Pearson clambered out of the cot that had been assigned to him and peeked
outside the door. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, he crept outside, pausing
only to put on his shoes.
The DeLorean cautiously hovered above him, led by coordinates from the
remote in his watch. It gently descended, all the jamming systems online. A
few shots from the ion cannons shorted out the security cameras, ensuring his
privacy. With a furtive look, Pearson opened one gull-wing door and entered,
closing it behind him. The car vanished quickly thereafter.

"Personal log. Subjective date, December 13, 1993. I've decided to keep
a log of my experiences in this alternate dimension. Maybe there'll be
more of these as time goes by. Then again, this `dimension hopping'
might be a one-time thing. With my luck, I don't think so.
"This earth is not where I would go for a vacation. The Salusians have
occupied this planet for the last twenty years or so, and every human
being is little more than a servant. I've had more than a few close
calls, and I might not be alive right now if it weren't for alternate
versions of Marty and Keriyn.
"Marty...*this* Marty...seems to be one of the few people with the nerve
to say `no' to a Salusian. He doesn't have much of a sense of humor, but
Hell...that's understandable. I look into his eyes, and I see someone
who has had a brief taste of freedom, then had it taken away. At least
he knows what it's like though.
"There's another player in this, and I'm going to have to be *really*
careful around him. His name's Lawrence, and he seems to be the Perfect
Salusian Loyalist (tm). He's so much of a brown-noser that at times, I
thought I was going to get sick of all that crap he spouts out. There's
something about him, though...something behind that complacent exterior
that wants a different life. Then again, he could be so brainwashed that
I'm imagining things.
"Keriyn...well, she's turned out remarkably well, considering the
circumstances. She's been indoctrinated to think of humans as lesser
beings. She can be rude, condescending, and even outright racist...a far
cry from my more liberal wife. And yet, at times, when she's in quiet
contemplation--when she thinks she's alone--I see her thinking about
how things might have been. In that moment, I see my wife.
"I dunno how the hell I'm gonna get out of this one. I don't know, and
yet I *have* to. I *will* see *my* wife again...no matter what."

Pearson turned off the log, parked the car next to the toolshed, and
cloaked it as he exited. He expected his entrance into the household to be
uneventful, seeing as how all involved were occupied visiting Aric in the
hospital.
Well, almost all. Pearson wasn't prepared for the gentle tapping on
his shoulder. Startled, he whirled and assumed a martial arts stance, ready
to face his opponent--
--one very puzzled-looking Martin Rose.
"Jee-zus quack, Marty!" he hissed. "Don't *do* that!"
"My, aren't *we* a little jumpy? Mind telling me what the deal is with
the car?"
"What car?" Doc feigned innocence...and failed miserably.
"The one you just left. The same one which just disappeared."
"'Scuse me, but am I the only one has trouble with that last
sentence?"
Martin cocked his head to one side, and even in the dim surroundings, Doc
could make out a furrowed eyebrow. The doctor relented with a sigh, deflating.
"I guess I owe you this much. Computer," he said, flipping up the
face of his watch and pressing a hidden control stud. "decloak and deactivate
security systems, authorization mu sigma theta three kappa."
The DeLorean obediently shimmered into view, and the faint hum of the
shields faded. Casually, he opened one of its doors, gesturing for Martin to
do the same. The taller man hesitated.
"You can stay out here if you like, but I don't think we'll get much
privacy." Pearson commented.
Martin shrugged, then opened up the door, hopping in as he closed it
behind him. Pearson did the same for his side, and within seconds, the car
was invisible once more.
"Where do I start?" Pearson muttered, almost to himself.
"The beginning is usually good."
"Yeah...you want something to drink? I dunno about you, but I'm
parched. That gunk they've got may be nutritionally-balanced, but it does a
damn poor job of satisfying your thirst."
"Umm...pass."
"Suit yourself. Pepsi, can, cold," he commanded the replicator, and the
appropriate beverage materialized. Popping it open, he took a long pull.
Martin eyed him enviously.
"You sure you don't want anything? I've got a pretty wide menu of stuff
I could have replicated."
"`Replicated?'"
"Basically food or other stuff that's been scanned to the molecular
level, stored in memory, and then rebuilt using the raw materials. It does a
pretty decent job, actually. You sure you don't want anything?" he
repeated.
"Well..." Martin began to waver.
Pearson smiled as he replicated a 20 oz. bottle of Dew, then handed it to
Martin. "Try it, you'll like it."
With a shrug, Martin unscrewed the cap and took a cautious sip. And
another. This was followed by an earnest effort to down the contents within 3
seconds.
"Hey, take it easy! Go slow, or you'll--"
"KAFFKAFFKAFF wheeeeze..." Pearson patted him on the back, trying to
clear the taller man's airways. When the choking subsided, Martin mopped up
the mess with a napkin.
"Easy, pilgrim. Geez, it's like you've never had a Mountain Dew
before."
"I had, when I was a kid, before the invasion," Martin corrected him.
"Never thought I'd taste it again. So, you were telling me about yourself."
"Well, basically...(Jee-zus quack, I'm not sure how to put this, but...)
I'm from the future."
"Of course." Martin replied matter-of-factly.
"You don't sound too surprised." Pearson commented.
"It's about par for the course for now."
"Weeelll...it's gonna get a little more complicated. Y'see, I'm not from
*this* future. It's an alternate timeline kinda thing. I'm from a future
where..."
"...where this never happened? No war, nothing?"
"Well, there're still wars, but not with the Salusians. Where I come
from, they made a peaceful first contact with Earth in 1999."
"`Peaceful?'" Martin eyed him dubiously.
"They didn't try to pound us into the ground. Sure, it took some time
for Earth to get used to 'em, but they've turned out to be pretty good
friends."
"Is that why you recognized Keriyn?"
"Yup. She and I...well, where I come from, the two of us are pretty
close."
"Uh huh. Do I want to know *how* close?"
"We're married." Pearson stated, punctuating it with a shrug.
"Hm. Guess you like the domineering type."
"She's a lot nicer where I come from."
BEEP BEEP! BEEP BEEP!
"Damn," Martin muttered under his breath. "Look, I've gotta go."
"What is that, anyway? Is that some kinda tracker or something?"
"It's a combination of tracker, watch, pager, and explosive."
"Explosive?"
"There's enough here to blow a person to little chunks. At least,
that's what they tell us when they implant it."
"Any way to disarm it?"
Martin snorted in exasperation. "If there was, don't you think I'd
use it? I've seen the way these things work."
"Well, I can't exactly just zap it with my ion gun and hope for the
best, now can I?"
"`Ion gun?'"
"It disrupts electronic circuitry. On a high enough setting, it can
really scramble a person's brains."
"So *that's* what you used back at the camp."
"Yup. Problem is, I'm not sure what effect it'll have on that wrist
thing of yours. I shoot the wrong place, and I might end up detonating
it."
"Bad idea." Martin agreed.
"How's this thing attached, anyway?"
"It's surgically implanted. Basically, it runs off my nervous system.
If I try to take it off, boom. If, for any reason, the power's off, the
thing still goes off."
"Is there a diagnostic cycle in there?"
Martin sighed, exasperated. "How should I know?"
"Easy, easy...no need to get mad. Just asking," Pearson held up his
hands defensively. "Maybe I can scan the sucker, see what makes it tick."
he muttered.
Whipping out his medical tricorder, the doctor waved a sensor across
the implant. His mouth curled into a smile as he completed the scan.
"I think I've got something. Every so often, this thing goes into a
self-diagnostic cycle and blocks everything out for a while. If I can lock
it into a continuous cycle..."
"...then you might be able to take it out?"
"Maybe. It's gonna be tricky, though. I can do it, yeah...but you
might wanna think about what happens if this works. We both *know* what'll
happen if this *doesn't*."
He saw the hesitation in Martin's eyes.
"I can hold off for a bit, but I'm not sure how long I'm gonna be
around." the doctor informed him.
Martin nodded, then sighed.

"There you go. Martin F. Rose, I now officially declare you a free man,
with all the rights and privileges associated with said status." He said with
some flamboyance.
Martin rubbed his wrist where the implant was once bonded. There wasn't
even the vaguest scar left to mark its presence. In fact, the procedure
wasn't nearly as painful or arduous as he thought it would be.
"So, what do I do now?"
"Anything you want. You can go anywhere you want, anytime you want.
This little monster, though, is going into Mr. Fusion the first chance I get."
he said, indicating the implant with the explosive inside.
[Mr. Fusion?] Martin wondered, but decided not to ask. "What about
you?"
"Me? I don't even exist here. I'll just...disappear."
The taller man sighed, considering the possibilities of his newfound
freedom. There was so much he wanted to do...and yet, something was holding
him back.
[Why should I be the *only* one who's free?] he wondered.
"Can you do this to anyone else with an implant?"
"Well--I guess so, yeah. I'd have to take into account the specific
frequencies emitted from each transmitter, so it'd have to be one at a time,
but...yeah. I could do this to someone else. Why?"
"I've got an idea. But first, I've got to get to a phone. Have to
answer the page, you know."
As it turned out, it was merely Renar calling to notify the servants of
his late arrival from the hospital. This, of course, meant that suitable
preparations had to be made to ensure that everything was in order.

Lawrence was sitting in his temporary lodgings, the light dimmed.
Renar's call had been for his servants specifically, though Lawrence would
have gladly helped out. However, everything seemed to be fine, and Mirya
didn't page him to help the others.
He furtively looked around, then extracted a small sketchbook which also
served as his journal. He had suspicions that Mirya occasionally peeked
through his things. There wasn't any proof, however. Experience had taught
him, however, that although there was no proof, that didn't necessarily mean
that it didn't happen.
Taking out a pen, he began to write.

Journal entry, December 13, 1993. I have been commanded by the Master to
escort and watch over Mistress Mirya during our visit to House Ajlond, in
light of Aric's "incident." Mistress Keriyn has apparently gained a new
manservant, and he is what troubles me. Martin, borderline-defiant as he
is, is at least predictable. This new one...I don't know.
This person..."Pearson," he calls himself...I don't like the look in his
eyes. Once, during dinner, he dared to look at Mistress Keriyn in the
eye, just for a brief moment. What's more troubling is that she doesn't
appear to mind. She grants him the smallest favors which would be denied
any other human. I think that he could, in time, become a big problem
for everyone involved. Was his indoctrination faulty? Has he never
felt the nerve lash? I can only wonder how he's managed to survive in
this society. And yet...there is a certain earnestness to his actions,
to his pointless defiance. When I was younger, I felt much the
same--until the Mistress set me on the right path.
Should I report this to the Black Lance? No. No, I have no proof, and
any undue attention I might get would be nothing but trouble.
I'd best keep an eye on him. The mistress must not come to any harm.

Closing up the journal, he sighed, then turned off the light. How long
had it been since his parents had "disappeared?" Before he came into Mirya's
service, they'd told him of life before the Salusians came, in hushed whispers.
Lawrence's reverie was interrupted by the faint footfalls outside his
room. Quickly hiding the journal, he rushed to the door of the guest
servant's room and opened it, catching a very tired Pearson on his way to
bed.
"Up a little late, aren't we?" Lawrence commented.
"I've been keeping busy," the doctor informed him vaguely. Fortunately,
Martin was safely out of view. "I could ask the same about you."
"You know, you don't strike me as the subservient type."
"Really? What do I strike you as?"
"A troublemaker. What were you thinking, looking Lady Keriyn in the eye
like that over dinnertime? Don't you realize the risk you were taking?"
"It was only half a second."
Lawrence snorted. "People have been sent to the labor camps for less.
Now, I don't intend for anyone to drag me down with them out of some idiotic
need to deny the truth, do you understand that?"
Pearson raised an eyebrow slightly. "You seem like a pretty loyal guy."
he observed. "'Course, all your life, you've pretty much been a servant
and pilot."
"Your point being...?" [Careful,] Lawrence thought to himself. [this
man is either very honest, or he's a damn good liar.]
"Have you ever thought of anything else in life?"
"Such as?"
Shrug. "If you didn't have to be a servant. If you could chart your own
course in life. Two of the most powerful words in the English language are
`what if.' What if you didn't have the bracelet?"
"It's a moot point. It's bonded. And, for my money, the three words I'm
most concerned with are `ready, aim, fire.'" Lawrence countered.
"Point taken. But d'you mind if I ask why you don't seem to associate
with other humans?"
Lawrence shrugged. "Why do I distrust my own kind? Well, what would
*you* do if you had opportunists poised at your back with knives?"
"Well, I'd..." the doctor considered this. "I'd tread *real*
carefully."
"That's right. I've been doing that for the whole of my life, and I'm
not interested in doing anything which might produce death or pain followed by
death."
"`Nothing ventured, nothing gained.'" Pearson quoted.
"`Dissension in the ranks can often be solved through the creative use of
semi-automatic weaponry.'" Lawrence told him, quoting an old Salusian
general.
[I guess some people aren't ready for freedom just yet.] Pearson
mentally sighed to himself. Still, there was something about Lawrence,
something that told him that life wasn't as satisfactory as he had presented.
He decided to take a chance, by far his riskiest.
"Okay," he conceded. "Far be it for me to force anyone to do what they
don't want or aren't ready for. I can understand where you're coming from."
"Good." Lawrence nodded, then turned to his room. He stopped midway
when he felt that Pearson hadn't quite ended the discussion. "What now?"
"Well, I'm not sure how long I'm gonna be around...but if you have a
minute, I can show you what I'm talking about. I'm not gonna *do* anything,
but...well, it never hurts to know. Are you up for that, at least?"
Lawrence sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right, but only to get
some sleep afterwards. Besides, the mistress will know where I am, at all
times."
Five minutes later, Pearson finished his little demonstration on how to
lock the bracelet into a self-diagnostic. Lawrence looked less than impressed.
"And why would I want to do this? What purpose would it serve?"
"In case you change your mind. Not likely, I know, but...in my
experience, it's better to be a free man than to be a comfortable slave; the
opportunities to do what you want to do, when you want to do it.
"Now, I'm guessing that she's treated you pretty well. Hell, you
wouldn't be a driver if you weren't at least *trusted*. Am I right?" Pearson
asked.
"That's right." Lawrence replied, suspicious, but willing to hear him
out.
"What happens if you somehow fall out of favor with her?" The doctor
held up his hands to ward off any argument. "I'm just outlining
possibilities, here. What if your next master or mistress isn't as kind?
What then?"
The taller man gritted his teeth. "I *won't* fall out of favor. Not if
I can help it."
"If there's one thing I've found...it's that sometimes, things go out of
control, and we can't do anything about them. I'm *giving* you a bit of
control, a way out without dying, as it were. You may choose to never use it,
but...it's nice to know that you have another option."
Lawrence sighed exasperatedly. "Fine, now I know. And now that I do,
when can I expect the Black Lance to show up informing the mistress that I've
been consorting with rebels?"
Pearson quirked up an eyebrow at this. "What the hell is the Black
Lance?"
"How could you *not* know?" Lawrence asked. [This man has to be dense
or something!] "They're only the people no human ever wants to see." he
laughed bitterly. "The thing is, they're right. Most of us *are* stupid
apes."
"There's always the exception." Pearson pointed out.
Lawrence snorted derisively. "And most of them are revolutionary-minded
individuals who think they can actually make a difference."
"We all make a difference, Lawrence; each and every one of us, whether we
like it or not."
The taller man shook his head, whether it was from fatigue or something
else was unclear. "I'm tired. Unless you want Mistress Keriyn to find out
that you're still energetic, I suggest that you get some sleep. I know I'll
be getting some."
"Think about what I've said. It won't kill you to do so."
"Are you sure?" Lawrence asked, but Pearson was already out of
earshot.

Morning came, and life seemed to return to normal in the Ajlond
household. Keriyn's father had left early to attend a meeting. Aric,
fortunately, was still recuperating at the hospital. Keriyn seemed to have
the day off, however. That was a problem, but not an insurmountable one.
It was shortly after lunchtime that Martin decided to make his move.
What better place to free the most people than to go into the lion's den,
as it were?
Martin bowed low before her, careful not to let her see his wrist. The
band was still there, but the hump that held the explosive had been quietly
disposed of earlier.
"What is it?" she asked, somewhat impatiently. She'd been reading a
technical journal, something about improved warp engines.
"With your permission, I'd like to take our new arrival to the labor
camp for...indoctrination."
"I thought you enjoyed his company."
"Well, I don't want to see the guy whipped. Or you disappointed."
"Hm...there's something about him. It'd almost be a shame to have that
spark wiped out." She thought for a bit, biting the inside of her lip. She
seemed almost apprehensive at the prospect. "But, the law is the law, I
suppose."
"All right. I'll go get him."
Martin left, then returned with Pearson. The doctor saw Keriyn's face,
and for a brief moment thought of his wife in much the same pose.
"Martin will lead you to the labor camp, where you'll be indoctrinated.
Now, the strange part is...I can't seem to find you in any records." she
told Pearson.
"Indeed?"
"If my brother were here, he'd probably shoot you if he found out. I
haven't found any record of an ID implant being given out to anyone with your
features. It's as if you don't exist."
"That doesn't change the fact that I'm right here in front of you."
"No, it doesn't," she hesitated. "Indoctrination is the mildest method
I can think of for humans to fit in. It's painless, and involves no undue
intrusions. I have seen worse ways of dealing with...freemen. Some were
brainwiped, only fit as servants for the simplest of tasks. Others were
simply put out of their misery."
"But...?" he asked, sensing some internal conflict.
"The more I look at you...the more I see of what might be. I've always
wondered, `what if?' And I...Martin, your wrist." she noted the absence of
the implant. "What--? How--?"
[Damn. Now what?] Pearson thought to himself. He hoped that he didn't
have to use the sedative he'd grabbed from his medical kit last night. The
kit itself was under his cot. It was unwise in the long run, but he had no
intention of staying much longer.
"Easy...calm down." Martin urged her. "It's nothing to worry about."
"NOTHING TO--? By all rights, you..." she trailed off and turned her
gaze towards Pearson. "Did you do this?"
[No sense lying to her.] "Yes."
The statement hit Keriyn like a brick. Her eyes were wide with
uncertainty, and for the first time, she froze. The tense moment was broken
by mild grumbling from the guest room.
Mirya yawned as she entered the living room, Lawrence close by.
Apparently, she liked taking naps after meals, and had been awakened by the
discussion. "What's all the fuss about, anyway? It's barely after
lunchtime."
"Uh...nothing, Mirya. We were just discussing indoctrination, and well,
we got a bit noisy." Keriyn fumbled a bit. She wasn't sure what to do.
"Hm. Excellent idea for new servants." Mirya agreed. "What do you
think, Lawrence?"
"Mine is but to serve, Mistress." he replied.
"Well-spoken. That reminds me, would you care to...?" Her eyes
sharpened as she looked at Martin.
"Is there something wrong?" Keriyn asked.
"Let me see your wrist, ape." Mirya commanded, her voice turning
harsh.
Martin reluctantly dug out his right wrist.
"No. The one where the implant should be. I don't see it."
"Perhaps the implant malfunctioned?" Lawrence suggested. "There have
been rare occurrences where the bio-adhesive has failed, although this has
resulted in some destruction."
"I'm aware of that. Let me see your wrist." she repeated, drawing
closer. She didn't notice the doctor moving closer to her.
For one second, Martin hesitated, and she took the opportunity to grab
his arm, whipping it out in plain view.
"I think it's time to have your implant re-bonded, ape." she said, her
voice a dangerous whisper. "In the meantime...SECU--"
A faint hiss could be heard as Pearson injected a mild sedative. Mirya's
eyes went wide with shock.
"Lawrence...help...me..." she said faintly, collapsing onto the
couch.
"What did you--?!" Lawrence demanded, grabbing Pearson by the
shirtfront. The doctor removed the larger man's hands with some effort.
"It's okay, she's just unconscious. She won't even wake up with a
hangover."
"Do you *realize* what's going to happen to you?" Lawrence asked in a
low, almost menacing voice.
"We're either shot dead right here and now, or we escape." Martin
informed him. "I can't go back to being a servant, not when I have the
chance to be something else."
"What else is there?! There are only two types of humans in this world:
the obedient and the dead."
"Everyone, QUIET!!!" Keriyn shouted as she looked around, confusion in
her eyes. "Now, I don't know what's going on, but...you are out of line,
Lawrence. Please keep in mind that this is my house, and that you are a guest
here at *my* suffrance. Is that understood?"
Lawrence stiffened, his jaw clenching. "Perfectly, Lady Keriyn."
"As for you two..." Keriyn's gaze seemed to waver. "Martin, you've
served me well over these last few years. What is so important that you'd
risk everything just for this abstract concept of freedom? I have every right
to use the neural lash on you, but...I think of myself as better than that.
Why would you *want* to leave?"
Martin drew himself up and looked her in the eye, an act which
disconcerted, but didn't anger her. "I remember what it was like before the
war. I remember what freedom was...and I can't go back to being a servant."
Keriyn seemed a bit taken aback with that answer. "And you, Pearson.
What is it about you that causes so much trouble? You're...you're not a
malicious person, that I know. You're intelligent and honest--"
"Lady Keriyn, you almost sound as if you admire him." Lawrence
pointed out.
"In another time, and another place...perhaps. Here and now, the gulf is
simply too vast to cross. For what you've done, the law would demand nothing
less than your deaths. There would be no alternative."
"So, what'll it be, Keriyn? You could easily turn me--hell, all of us
in and we'd be out of your hair forever."
"...I don't want to."
"Wha?"
"I said I don't want to turn you in." she shook her head in confusion.
"I don't know why or how, but...you don't *belong* here."
[Now, there's an understatement.]
"There's just something about you that I--" she closed her eyes, in
obvious anguish. "Go. Now."
"Thank you." he said quietly.
"Don't thank me. I...I wanted to keep you and Martin safe. Now...it's
too late. By letting you go, I might as well have signed your death
warrants." Keriyn was having a hard time controlling her tears. "I *want*
you to stay, to show me what it might be like for Salusians and Terrans to
be humans...but it's too late."
"I'll stay." Lawrence said abruptly. "I owe the Mistress far too much
for me to desert her now."
"Well, at least let me give you an alibi. How about this: You valiantly
tried to defend your mistress, but were knocked out. You'll even have a huge
bruise to go with it."
"But I would know the truth, as would Lady Keriyn."
"It's either that or disintegration for you. I think that Mirya would
like you alive rather than atomized."
"Would it make much of a difference?" Lawrence asked, resigned.
"One person can make a difference...if they're the right one, at the
right place, at the right time." Pearson told him.
"I'm not that one person."
"Are you sure?" Pearson asked, preparing to work on Lawrence's face.

The labor camp hadn't changed any since his last encounter. It was still
depressing, the slate-grey exterior reinforcing the dreariness of its purpose.
The force-field gates glowed brightly, the threat of immolation an
ever-present reminder of who was in charge.
It was into this stronghold that the two men walked into. Per Martin's
instructions, Pearson feigned the same indifferent, defeated air that most
other humans had. They approached the front desk.
"Ah...another `recruit.' Take him to be indoctrinated. You know the
way, green corridor." the Salusian greeted them roughly.
"Yes, sir." Martin responded.
"How is your Mistress, anyway?"
"In good health, sir."
"Good. Now get going."

"I'll get you to some of the newly-indoctrinated workers." Martin told
the doctor. "There's a better chance that they haven't given up. More
importantly, they'll probably know what to do with their freedom."
"Good point. It'll take me some time to prep up. I can't believe that
they ask why you were carrying my medical bag."
Martin actually smirked. "Sometimes I'm asked to ferry stuff to the
camp. They know me. Here we are." he announced, coming to a security guard.
"Another new one?" the guard asked.
"Mistress Keriyn requested that I stay with this one."
"All right. Go on in."

"Everyone, keep quiet." Martin began. "This is a person who can help
you."
"There isn't any help for us." one young man bemoaned.
"Actually, I beg to differ." Pearson said as he stepped forward.

The Salusian manning the reception area tapped his earpiece. "Say again,
control?"
"Mirya Aldzinjal has authorized the detainment or disposal of two
freemen. Their physical description is as follows..."

"How many have you taken care of so far?" Martin asked, getting a tad
nervous.
"About a dozen. It's tricky, trying to pin down the specific
frequencies."
"Well, put your stuff away. I've got a feeling that someone's going to
check up on us. Standard indoctrination takes about an hour and a half."
Sure enough, the door opened. The guard looked impassively at Martin and
Pearson, then gestured to them.
"You're to accompany me to section 7-G."
"Detainment?" Martin asked. "Why?"
"By order of Mirya Aldzinjal. MOVE!"
[Dammit!] Pearson swore to himself, then reluctantly exited the small
room. He thought of the ion gun under his jacket...and discarded that option.
He might not get a good shot in.
The three of them marched sullenly to section 7-G. The doctor could tell
from Martin's eyes that he was going to make a move. It was just a matter
of when.
"Remember the other day?" Martin asked, conversationally.
"Yeah? What about it?"
"Think you could repeat the fireworks display?" he hinted.
"Anytime." Pearson replied.
"How about...NOW!" Martin turned on the guard and tried to wrestle the
weapon from his hands. The struggle was ended abruptly by the ion gun.
Before the Salusian collapsed, however, he managed to hit an alarm switch
mounted nearby.
"GO! GET OUTTA HERE!" Martin bellowed, shoving the doctor into a
passageway. Behind them, the footsteps of Salusian troops grew louder as they
got closer.
"But what about you?!"
"Don't worry about me! I'll be o--"
Martin Rose hadn't finished that sentence, because at that moment, a
Salusian commando had fired a full-force particle beam. It struck the taller
man directly in the chest. He fell forward, the blast mark glaringly
evident.
"MARTY!!"
That was the last thing Doc saw before he felt himself sinking.
[What the hell--?!]
Then, he was gone. Outside, above the camp's roof, the DeLorean had
somehow decloaked, then vanished, along with the medical equipment.
Martin felt rather giddy, a warm haze enveloping him. He didn't even
bother to get up.
"There's one of 'em! I don't see the other one, though." A Salusian
trooper reported.
"Keep looking. He's got to be around here somewhere."
"Yes sir!"
[Nice to see that one of us got awa--] Martin thought before darkness
overtook him.

Lawrence sighed as he trudged towards his room. The Black Lance had not
been entirely satisfied with his actions, despite the realistic bruise that he
sported across his jaw. No, there would be an investigation...and he had a
sinking feeling as to what the outcome would be.
["One person can make a difference...if they're the right one, at the
right place, and at the right time."] he mentally quoted Doc. [All that it's
gotten him and Martin is killed, most likely. Still...to them, it was worth
*dying* for.]
Lawrence shook his head. [No, I can't stay here. The mistress cannot
defend me from this. If only there were another way.]
He looked at his implant, symbol of his "loyalty." [Should I have taken
him up on his offer?]
There were so many possibilities floating before him, so many things he
wanted to do.
[I can help you.] A feminine voice intruded on his thoughts.
"Wha? Who?" he started.
[There will be a price, but you will have seen more than any mortal could
ever imagine...and your journey begins now.]
The ground seemed to have vanished under him, and he fell, screaming.
Almost as an afterthought, his journal and sketchbook accompanied him. When
the portal vanished, it left behind a small, metallic object: His implant.
The resulting explosion levelled half the house. Fortunately, there was
no one else inside. The investigating Salusians would presume that the body
was vaporized by an ape attempting to tamper with his implant.
On the winds, almost inaudible, the Dark Goddess Kallisti chuckled.

THE CITY
JULY 12, 1987
8:05 P.M.
DIMENSIONAL DISPLACEMENT: 2

About 10 feet off the ground in a darkened alley, a dimensional rift
opened, disgorging a passenger in a rather undignified manner. There were no
flamboyant George Lucas-type special effects; the young man simply seemed to
fall out of nowhere.
"Owie." he Darkwing Ducked, and got himself on his knees. A glimmer of
remembrance crossed his features as he hurriedly scrambled to his left.
As if on cue, he extended his arm to neatly catch the tricorder that
appeared, like him, seemingly out of nowhere. A heavy black bag followed,
and he began to acquaint himself with his surroundings.
A poster caught his eye. It read, "Night of a million zillion ninja."
[Oh no,] he groaned. [Dammit, I HATE ninjas!] Well, that wasn't really
true. He just hated ninjas who would attack him without provocation, not to
mention their overuse in comic books. [Well, it couldn't be any worse than
what I just saw. Geez...] He shivered at the memory.
A noise shook him out of his reverie. A young woman dressed in a yellow
skullcap, gloves, leotard, and white gym shoes bounded over a brick wall
carrying a bow and a quiverful of arrows. However, she was in such a hurry
that she tripped on him and stumbled, barely keeping hold of her weapons.
"Watch it, you stupid bum!" she shrieked.
[Bum?] Well, granted, he wasn't in a three-piece suit, but still...
[Waitaminute! That was Oedipus from the Tick comic book! If she's
here, then so are...]
A ninja dressed in black flopped over the wall. Then another. And
another. All of them piled on the first in an extraordinarily clumsy
manner.
[Huwaaaahhh....ninjas.] he mentally groaned.
"Come on, Oedipus! Just give us the item and we'll leave you alone!"
One ninja called out.
"`Leave you alone.'" another chortled. "Yeah, that was a good one!"
Yet another ninja seemed to be making comments about, "You throw me the
idol, I'll give you the whip!"
"SHHH!" another hissed.
"That's a load of bull**** and you know it!" Oedipus yelled, and shot
an arrow into the throng.
"Uh...can I ask what's going on?" Doc ventured.
"Keep out of this, geek!" the leader said, drawing his sword. "Or
I'll gut you with my katakana!"
"That's a katana," Doc corrected. "Katakana has something to do with
writing."
The ninja looked down sheepishly. "Oh."
"Besides, mate," Doc said in a semi-Crocodile Dundee manner, "That's
not a sword."
He drew his beam saber and ignited it. "THIS is a sword."
Some of the ninjas oohed and aahed at the sight.
"So, here's a riddle. What do you get when you cross this thing with
a couple of ninjas?"
"Ninjas that glow in the dark?"
"Ninjas that can cut just by touching?"
"A ninja choir with a really neat humming sound?"
Everyone glared at him.
"Well, it was a thought." he responded lamely.
"No," Doc said, slipping into Clint Eastwood. "You get a couple of dead
ninjas. So how about it? I've had a bad week so far, and right now, I feel
like blowing off some steam. You feel lucky, punks?" [Damn, I've always
wanted to say that!]
To show that he meant business, Doc cut the leader's katana in half.
[Geez, that's a cheap sword. I could read the GINSU trademark from five
feet away.] he commented to himself.
For a long moment, everything was silent as the ninjas looked down at
their blades, then at him, then at each other.
They made their move.
"I gotta go!"
"Oh, damn! The wife's gonna kill me!"
"They don't pay me enough for this!"
"See ya next week, guys!"
"Wait! Come back, you cowards!" yelled the leader. "There's only one
of him, and twenty of us!"
"Aahh...SHADDUP!" Doc said disgustedly as he severely reduced the
ninja's chances of having children in the immediate future. Translation, he
kicked the ninja where it counted, then threw him into a trash pile.
It was about then that the group had a rare insight. Their leader was
right. They did outnumber Doc and Oedipus, big time. They stopped in their
tracks and slowly approached the two.
"Uh oh." Doc croaked, then closed down the beam saber. Oedipus did the
only sensible thing in this situation. She ran like hell. Doc, not being too
sanguine about having to slice up ninjas (sooner or later, one of them was
going to get in a lucky hit), followed her, snatching the medical bag on his
way.
Right until she started scaling a wall.
[Ohhh geez...] A twinge of his acrophobia made itself known. He looked
back to see the ninjas rushing towards him. Well, it's either climb the
wall or be sliced by some incompetent ninjas.
[I'll take the wall, Pat.]
As he climbed the wall, heart pounding all the way, he heard someone on
the rooftop.
"...And you can tell, just by the way he's looking...that he's got some
pretty heavy things on his mind." A male voice intoned.
Oedipus and Doc flopped over the edge, onto the roof. Doc was panting,
not from exertion, but from voluntarily climbing so high. (something he would
almost never do)
On the rooftop was the Tick. He was almost seven feet tall, built like a
brick house, and oh, yes, he was blue.
Oedipus babbled incoherently about their situation, that their pursuers
were hot on their trail.
"Ninjas? Don't be silly." he stated calmly. "They're more afraid of
you than you are of them."
The ninjas had scrambled onto a rooftop next to them, and the leader, now
recovered, made a threat, saying something about shoving the Tick's antennae
down his throat.
"I'm going to throw a chimney at them." he mumbled.
"Whoa, there, big guy!" Doc exclaimed. "Unfocused, random violence
never solves anything..."
"That goes for you, too, geek!" the leader yelled.
Doc glared at him for the barest of instants. "Let 'im have it."
It was about then that the ninjas jumped from the adjacent rooftop onto
theirs.
Almost immediately, half of them jumped back.
The rooftop was not a pretty sight. Ninjas were strewn about the place.
One ninja moaned. Another groaned, "Congeal..." Yet another was stuffed down
the very chimney that the Tick was about to throw, feet sticking out. The
cheap katanas that the ninjas carried were sliced in half, courtesy of Doc.
"Heh, those ninjas are wacky." the Tick said, brushing off both a
shuriken and its thrower.
"That was...that was..." Oedipus stammered.
"Unbelieveable." Doc finished. "So, what's the deal with the costume,
big guy?"
"What costume?" The Tick asked innocently.
"Ahem!" the now-injured leader called out from the adjacent rooftop.
"The ninja are strong in this city. You will not be able to escape!" he
said, reading out a paper that had the words, "PARTING THREAT" on it.
"That goes for you, too, bug boy!" Another ninja chimed in.
The Tick reached for the chimney, the ninja still inside, and threw it
at the assembled mass.
Doc closed down the beam saber and returned it to his belt. Almost
immediately, he looked up to see his car falling toward him, appearing from
ten feet out of nowhere. He nonchalantly stepped out of the way. Fortunately,
neither the Tick or Oedipus were in the any danger. Unfortunately, the ninjas
on their rooftop were. [Let's see now...the average prone body protrudes about
4-5 inches off the ground. The DeLorean's minimum clearance is about 4
inches...this should make an interesting sound.]
SKLUTCH!
[Yup, I was right. That was definitely an interesting sound.]
"Ah, damn!" Doc cursed.
"What? What?" Oedipus asked.
"D'you know how tough ninja goop is to clean off?"
"Hey, who are you, anyway?" she demanded.
"Uh, well...I'm a doctor," he finished lamely.
"A doctor?" Oedipus repeated. "With a glowing green sword and a car
straight out of that movie?"
"Well, I'm looking at stranger. I mean, you look like a ninja,"
[Albeit one gunning for an Elektra impersonation] he thought silently, "and
the guy standing next to you is big, blue, and has those things on his
head. What was your name again, big guy?"
"I am...the Tick." he announced dramatically.
Both he and Oedipus looked at him oddly, as if to size him up for a
straitjacket. Little did the latter know that, until recently, he *had*
been wearing one.
"`The Tick?'" the two of them chorused. The giant blue figure
nodded.
"Huwaaah..."
"And you are...?" The blue giant queried.
"Having a very, *very* bad day." Pearson replied, his head sinking.
Not for the first time, he asked himself the eternal question.
[Why me?]

NOT THE END...

---------------------------WARNING! AUTHOR BABBLE!----------------------------

Well, here I am again. The question that you might be asking yourself,
the reader, might be...
"WHAT TOOK YOU SO FRIGGING LONG?!!!"
I'm afraid that I can only plead the usual: Life, the Universe, and
Everything. Since I've graduated from UIC, I don't have nearly the spare time
that I used to. Granted, I'm working more or less full-time and going to
school at night, but still...that's no excuse for leaving people hanging.
In case you're totally confused, you might want to check out the rest of
the Undocumented Features stories at http://www.eyrie.net/uf/ or on the ftp
site. I'd recommend reading the four "core" stories first...heck, I'd
recommend reading all of the stories there, but you only *really* need to read
Leap Years, parts 1 and 2 to understand what's going on in this story.
What's this story about? It's basically an eight-part series detailing
exactly *what* Doc went through that gave him such a poor opinion of
dimensional travel. As the series progresses, some questions raised during
the Leap Years stories should be answered.
So, when's the next story coming out? Soon, I hope. I mean, I've been
working on this series on and off for a few years...ever since I wrote the
first ones. Of course, Anime Detective is also one of the series I write (OK,
so I kinda created it), and that helped my sanity a bit. If you want to drop
me a line about my stories, you can e-mail me at either pm...@jurai.net or
pm...@uinet.campus.mci.net.
Until next time...see you in the future!

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