Coda 4: The Fourth Wall
A Redshirts Fanfiction
By Gamera Obscura
Note: The novel Redshirts, its characters and concepts, are the property of John Scalzi and Tor Books. I do not own the rights to the original work or any of its derivations. This story takes place at the end of the novel, and is in no way associated with the television series, which at the time of this writing, is still in pre-production.
Special thanks to John Scalzi, for allowing me to play in his sandbox.
Coda 4: The Fourth Wall
It was a lazy Friday night for Nick and Samantha Weinstein as they sat in the living room of their house in Sherman Oaks, California, watching Star Trek: The Next Generation on television. It was a busy time for Nick, but he was taking a badly needed break to enjoy an evening with his wife. The following week, The Chronicles of the Intrepid was scheduled to wrap up filming its series finale, a two hour tour de force that Nick had written. He looked over at the mantle above the fireplace, at a gap in the center where his Emmy award was slated to reside.
The Anon-A-Writer episode had been passed off by many as a publicity stunt, and as Finn had promised, Nick had survived it. There had been a resulting spike in the ratings, coinciding with what many viewed as a sea change in the quality of writing and plotting in the show. The ratings on The Chronicles of the Intrepid had nearly doubled over the last year and a half, and Nick Weinstein had been nominated for not one, but two Emmy Awards. He had also won a Hugo Award for Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form, for his episode "Alpha and Omega". His work had not garnered an Emmy. Yet. But Nick knew that given the quality of his work since his experiences with Denise Hogan and Finn, it was just a matter of time before that award was his. In fact, he had dedicated his Hugo to Denise Hogan for being his muse, a development that had been the topic of much speculation on various forums and the Gawker website.
Nick wrapped his arm more tightly around Samantha and gave her a squeeze. She sighed and she nestled more deeply into the crook of his arm. On the wall above their heads was a cluster of framed photographs of Margaret and Adam Jenkins, mingled with their own. The origins of the other couple's photographs were a secret they shared with a handful of other people, a secret that was occasionally discussed over dinner with Charles and Matthew Paulson and their family, Marc Corey, and Brian Abnett.
With the show wrapping up shortly, Nick didn't have a lot to do on The Chronicles of the Intrepid, but he was busily working on the pilot script and the writer's bible for The Chronicles of the Intrepid: Phase 2, which was set a century after the original series, and would detail the adventures of the Intrepid C and her crew. The Corwin had been so pleased with the improved quality of the show and the ratings it had generated in her final seasons that they practically demanded a sequel series, and Charles Paulson had readily agreed. He had convinced Nick to remain with the production house on the condition that he continue to write "responsibly," as he had for the show's final season and a half.
On the Television, Q was granting Data a gift. "If your intention is to make me human, Q..." Data began.
"Oh, no no no no no. I would never curse you by making you human." Q countered. "Think of it as a going away present." Q disappeared, and Data began to laugh.
Wheels began to turn in Samantha's head. She paused the DVR and put down her glass of white wine. She turned to her husband. "Nick, I've had an idea," Samantha said. She outlined her epiphany to her husband, who frowned in concentration as he worked out the logistics of what she was telling him. Nick nodded, then smiled.
A half an hour later, Charles Pouslon's phone rang. Nick Weinstein was on the other end. "Charles, Samantha and I have an idea; a way to help pay back our 'friends' on Intrepid. Can you postpone striking the sets for a few weeks?" Nick said. The sets for The Chronicles of the Intrepid, most of them, were set to be torn down and redressed as the new sets for the sequel show.
"I could," Paulson said. "It would play hell with our production schedule, but we could do it easily enough. Why?"
Nick explained his plan. Charles listened, his mouth hanging open. "But the hard part will be getting back everyone we need; not everyone will still be in the business, or even living in the area anymore," Nick explained. "Perhaps if you offered them triple union scale for a week, plus travel and hotel expenses, they'd jump on it. Filming should only take a day or two."
"I think you're right. And you really want me to be the one to do it?" Paulson asked.
"I do," Nick said. "I think it has a certain poetic irony. Of course, it will never be shown on television."
"We did that once before. We don't know if that actually works." Paulson said.
"I'm pretty sure it did. Hanson said that he thought even the tie-in novels were appearing in their timeline." Nick said.
Five minutes later, Paulson hung up the phone, and walked down the hallway to where Matthew and his fiancé Sandra were. Matthew was busy working on his second novel. His first opus, a novel called "Redshirts," was already out and quickly becoming a hit. Matthew looked up at his father's approach.
Paulson smiled. "Matthew, we need you to put on the uniform again. For Hester."
O-O-O
Chief Petty Officer Jasper Hester sat in the crew lounge as the Intrepid, nearly crippled after its most recent adventure, limped back to Earth Dock, along with a flotilla of other ships, all heavily damaged. Sitting at the table with him were Lieutenant Commander Kerensky, and Lieutenants Dahl, Duvall, and Hanson. Hester had, as promised, gotten his shit together, and served with such distinction that his career had earned him several promotions in short order. Duvall and Kerensky had gotten back together shortly after returning to the Intrepid, and had been together ever since. No one was sure if that was the work of the Narrative or not, but they seemed happy enough, despite the strife between them during their visit to the 21st century. Either way, no one seemed to question it much. Since then, Kerensky had been one of them, frequently joining them at mess or in the lounge.
Dahl's phone beeped. He answered it and hung up a minute later. "That was Jenkins. He says he's on his way." Dahl said.
Ten minutes later, Lieutenant Jenkins arrived from the Xenobiology lab with a drink in hand, all smiles. "I think congratulations are in order." Jenkins said. "The fleet's routing of the Kitanian invasion force appears to have marked the finale of The Chronicles of the Intrepid. I think it's safe to say that the Narrative is finally done with us."
The others raised their bottles and clinked them together as Jenkins sat down. "Finally, we can get on with our lives. It's just tragic that we lost eleven ships in the attack."
Duvall looked sobered. "Including the Nantes."
"Still, Abernathy ramming the Kitanian flying cannon with the Intrepid probably saved tens of thousands of lives." Anatoly said, still amazed that the ship had survived the maneuver.
"And the emergency force fields prevented a single crewman from being sucked into space," Hanson offered.
"Now that we're off the end of the last page, anything is possible. We could all die tomorrow. It's a conundrum, having our fate in our own hands, but at the same time, not being protected by the Narrative. Remember that time, a year ago, when we had a systems failure, and the Intrepid almost plowed into a small asteroid?"
"Oh, don't get moody on us, Andy," Duvall said. "Or I'm going to have to punch you again. We're going to celebrate tonight."
And that's exactly what they did, drinking and laughing and joking until the early morning, when everyone drifted off to their respective berths, each looking forward to the dawn of a new day in which the Narrative was not a part of their lives.
The next day, Dahl assumed his station on the bridge. Repairs were still underway, as they were on all the ships, but the damage to the Intrepid was so severe, with its front end sheared off, that it was going to take a layover at a starbase, in this case Earth Dock, to set her back in order. The flotilla continued at best speed to the Sol system.
Several hours into his shift, an alarm siren blared. Dahl looked up and turned around. "Captain, there's a force field ahead, and it stretches for at least a half a light year in all directions." Kerensky said. On the viewscreen, a rippling, semi-transparent expanse of hash marks undulated as the ship approached it.
"All stop," said Captain Abernathy. "Signal the fleet to do the same. Q'eeng, get me a read on it."
Q'eeng consulted his workstation. "It reads as solid," Q'eeng said.
Without warning, there was a localized halo of light that flashed, and in its place stood a man dressed in a medieval ship captain's uniform. "Greetings and salutations, Captain Lucius Abernathy!" the man exclaimed.
He was Charles Paulson.
Oh, shit, thought Dahl.
Abernathy scowled. "Are you the one blocking our task force from moving forward?" he asked.
The man smiled. "Aye, I am," he said. "Allow me to introduce myself. We call ourselves the X. Or thou mayest call me that. I present Myself to thee as a fellow ship's captain, that thou might better understand Me. We come from a realm We call the X Sodality."
"Captain," Q'eeng said, "he reads as a non-corporeal life form. This is just an image."
"And why are you blocking our path?" Abernathy said.
"Because we wanted thy attention," the man said.
Abernathy frowned. "Well, you've got it. What do you want?"
X smiled. "My familliars and I are here to grant thee a gift for all that thee and thy Universal Union hath achieved." he said. "But mayhap I am a bit behind the times with my appearance." He flashed again, and appeared to be wearing a Universal Union Fleet Admiral's uniform. "Ah, yes. Much better."
"A gift?" Abernathy asked.
"That's right," X said. "The Universal Union is known throughout the quadrant as peacemakers and explorers, scientists and philosophers. This ship alone, the flagship, is responsible for saving tens of billions of lives. It is time for Us to make Ourselves known. And so I present Myself to you as an Admiral. And what is an Admiral without an armada?" He gestured toward the viewscreen.
Outside, the stars seemed to twinkle. Some of the halos of light were close enough that Dahl realized that ships, Dub U ships, were blinking into existence. Q'eeng seemed stunned. "Ships, Captain. There are hundreds and hundreds of ships now ahead of us," he said.
X grinned. "Four hundred and seventy-eight ships. Every ship that the Dub U has ever lost, including their dead crew, now returned to life." In the foreground, the Benjamin Franklin loomed large as it drifted past.
"Capitain," Kerensky said, "we're getting reports from the other task force ships that the damage they sustained in repelling the invasion has been repaired. All of it."
Before Abernathy could answer, his phone chimed. It was Chief Engineer West. "Captain, I don't know how to explain it, but all the damage to the ship has been... well, the missing front end of the ship is back, and all damage has just been miraculously undone," West said.
"Stand by," Abernathy said. "We have a situation on the bridge, but it appears the same thing has happened to all the other ships in our flotilla. I'll brief you later." Abernathy said, and rang off. He then turned to Kerensky. "Signal the fleet to stand by for an announcement from the flagship, and have them send us a wave if they have anything in the way of emergency needs; some of those ships will have skeleton crews; if they need additional crew, we can supplement them from the flotilla to help them get back to Earth. Let them know that we stand ready to assist them."
"Yes, sir," Kerensky said, and hit the broadcast channel.
The Captain turned to X. "How is this possible?" he asked.
X spread His arms wide. "Death is not as final as you think it is. There is a quantum resonance to all life forms that is what you might describe as an echo of life, a burning ember in a campfire, if you will. If you blow on that ember, it glows brighter. Add just the right amount of fuel, blow on it, and you can bring the fire back until it roars with life. That is what I have done with the crews of those ships. As for the ships themselves, it's a simple matter for My people to synthesize or restore matter on an epic scale. This is the merest demonstration of our power," he paused. "Now, if you, Commander Q'eeng, Lieutenant Commander Kerensky, and Lieutenant Dahl will accompany me to cargo bay 2, I have one more gift for all of you."
X turned to Dahl. "Bring your friends, son. You know who I mean," he said.
As Dahl walked with the others toward the bay complex, Dahl reached for his phone and dialed Jenkins. "Jenkins, you need to call the others and get everyone to cargo bay 2, now," Dahl said.
"Why?" Jenkins asked.
"Because a supremely powerful life form has just come on board the ship and is granting gifts to the Dub U. And because he looks like Charles Paulson," Dahl said.
"Oh, shit," Jenkins said. He hung up, and turned to his labmates. "I'm going to get some coffee," he said ironically. Ben Trin and Lieutenant Collins glanced at each other nervously as Jenkins stood up and exited the lab, dialing his phone as he did so.
A short time later, Duvall entered the bay. She was the last to arrive. Once she had joined the cluster of Dahl, Jenkins, Hanson, and Hester, X smiled as she approached. "Will someone explain this to me?" she asked.
"Wait for it," Dahl said, as X gestured to the empty cargo bay, and hundreds of oblong bursts of light erupted all over the disused space, which was suddenly filled with an entire congregation of crew members. X turned back to Captain Abernathy. "Every crew member killed aboard the Intrepid since its launch," he said.
Abernathy was speechless for a few seconds. "I never realized we had lost so many," he said.
X nodded. "They all died as heroes, in the service of a republic that closely mirrors our own ideals," he said. "In addition to all of this, your library computers are being updated to include theoretical documents and blueprints to allow you synthesize complex matter, like food, to create practical teleportation units, and holographic and articulated force field technology that will allow you to create defensive shields and hologrids necessary for training and entertainment purposes, so that your crew, and people throughout the Universal Union, can participate in interactive fiction without ever leaving their own homes. Congratulations, Captain Abernathy, you should be proud of all that you and your crew have accomplished."
Abernathy was thoughtful. "Thank you, X. I don't know how we can ever repay You and Your people."
"Just keep doing what you're doing, and we'll be in touch from time to time. But now, my work here is done, and for the moment, We leave you. Safe travels, and good luck in your journeys, Captain Abernathy," X said, and vanished in a burst of light.
Dahl and his crewmates began scanning the returned crew for faces they recognized. Dahl spotted a chastened looking Cassaway and Mbeke, standing together. In the crowd, the others spotted Finn, who came up to them. Duvall smiled and said, "Hello, Finn," before punching him in the face, very nearly collapsing him to the deck.
"What was that for?" Finn demanded.
"That's for drugging me," Duvall said. Then she threw her arms around him in a hug. "And this is for not being dead anymore," she said, and laughed.
Elsewhere, Jenkins was lifting a woman everyone presumed to be Margaret off the ground and spinning her around before lowering her back to the deck, and kissing her passionately.
Elsewhere still, as the crowd milled around, murmuring to each other, Ensign Davis walked up to Captain Abernathy and saluted. "Ensign Davis, reporting for duty, sir," he said.
Abernathy smiled. "We're going to need to contact the Admiral by hyperwave," he said. "Your father will be overjoyed to know you're still alive, Tim."
"Tom," Davis said.
"Tom, sorry." Abernathy said. His phone chirped again.
"Captain," the Lieutenant currently in charge of the bridge reported by phone, "The force field is gone, sir. Like it was never there."
After acknowledging the report, he turned to Q'eeng. "Get Doc Hartnell down here to process these crew members and check them out; also, have the Quartermaster assign them to guest quarters as best they can until the Space Fleet figures out what to do with them, and then get back to the bridge. Signal the fleet to make best speed to Earth Dock," Abernathy said.
"Yes, sir," Q'eeng said, and hurried off.
O-O-O
Later, in the crew lounge bursting with celebrating crew, after all the returned personnel had been processed by medical, Dahl, Hester, Duvall, Hanson, and Kerensky, sat with Finn and Margaret, catching up. Dahl had just finished explaining to Finn about their adventures in 2012, and how his death had spurred them on to do as he had asked and find a way to stop the television series that was hell-bent on killing them off. Dahl showed Finn the photograph of him and Nick the bartender from the Irish pub in Hollywood.
"So what was it like, being dead?" Duvall asked, when the discussion had died down.
Finn opened his mouth to answer, but Margaret Jenkins beat him to it. "When you're dead, there's no passage of time, but shortly before being returned to Intrepid, we all found ourselves in a grey, featureless expanse stretching off to nowhere. There were thousands of us; tens of thousands, actually. And some of us were wearing old style uniforms, indicating that some of our comrades had been dead for centuries. Some of the X appeared to us, and explained that we had all been killed in the line of duty. They told us that we were going to be returned to life, and returned to our lives in the Space Fleet. Ordinarily, I think that an experience like this would be pretty damned disconcerting, but, at least for me, an odd sort of peace had settled over me," Margaret said.
"It wasn't only you," Finn said. "I felt like I was taking some of my product," he said.
Duvall punched him in the arm. "Mild effects my ass," she said.
Margaret took Adam's hand in hers and squeezed it warmly. "Almost no time passed for me for the last six years, but poor Adam here had to live without me. I can't even begin to imagine how hard it was for you, love." she said.
Adam's face was wet. "For years, I lived in the bowels of the ship. I didn't bathe or cut my hair. I practically lived like an animal as I hid from the Narrative." he said.
"And speaking of the Narrative," Finn said to Dahl and Jenkins, "I'm sorry that I ever doubted you. Incredible that the X is really the will of the creators of the show, making amends for all the damage they did."
"I agree," said Dahl. "And word is trickling in that they've done even more. The victims of the Merovian plague have been returned to life, and the Borgovians have returned to their homeworld after an inexplicable absence. Even those killed in the Forshan religious war have been resurrected; I believe that in time, all the victims of The Chronicles of the Intrepid will be brought back to life. We are certainly living in strange days."
Kerensky smirked. "Speaking of Merovia, I'm just glad that the writers stopped beating the crap out of me every other episode. But beyond that, it's good to have both of you back, Finn, Margaret," he said.
Both of the resurrected crew members smiled. Kerensky raised his bottle. "To absent friends, now no longer absent," Kerensky said. They all clinked their bottles and glasses together.
O-O-O
Eventually, everyone drifted off and went their separate ways. Duvall and Kerensky went back to her berth, and Adam Jenkins and his wife went to the new married berth that the Quartermaster had assigned to them earlier in the day. They lay down together and just held one another, Adam crying as he cradled her head in his arms.
"Husband?" his wife asked.
"Yes, love?" Adam Jenkins asked in return.
"I have a message for you from the actress that plays me," Margaret Jenkins said.
"W-what?" Jenkins asked.
Margaret closed her eyes. When she opened them, they had changed from their usual brown to a emerald green. "Adam, I received your letters and the message you wrote for me. Your video and holo-photography. I want you to know that the lead writer for the show, Nick Weinstein, is now my husband." Samantha Martinez Weinstein smiled, and described the manner in which they met.
Jenkins said nothing.
"You won't speak during this message; it seemed rather fatuous to give you dialogue to say when the words would not be your own; it would merely be the dialogue my husband wrote for you to say. At any rate, I'm afraid that this will have to be more of a monologue than a dialogue, and I'm sorry to say that I'll never hear your actual response. I can live with that," Samantha said.
"We love each other very much, and we owe it all to you. Nick's gift from the X was in part his penance for haphazardly killing off so many people, but really it was a smokescreen to give Margaret back to you. Call it our gift for all that you've given us, and the Paulson family," she continued.
"So thank you. The love that you and Margaret share lives on in us; we're planning to try for a baby in the spring. If it's a boy, we're going to name it Adam. If it's a girl, Margaret. And there's another show coming, to be aired in the fall. It's a sequel to Chronicles of the Intrepid, set one hundred years in your future. Nick says he'll be sure to be careful with the lives he touches in his writing. Now say goodbye, Adam. The Narrative is about to go away forever. For your lifetime, at any rate," Samantha concluded.
"Goodbye, Samantha," Adam said, and the two shared a long, passionate kiss. When he pulled back, his wife's eyes were brown again.
"At long last, our lives are truly our own," Margaret said, and smiled. The two made love until first shift.
The Box never worked again.
And they ALL lived happily ever after. Seriously.