A/N: I was watching The Suite Life one evening and noticed that the Tipton looked like a rocket ship, and this story started writing itself in my head. Category may change.
A/N: I don't know anything about fashion, so I apologize if I make the characters look hideous.
A/N: I've not seen The Suite Life on Deck nor do I know much about it, so I'm ignoring it for the purpose of this story.
Standard Disclaimer: All characters herein, with the exception of the dead guy, are the intellectual property of the Walt Disney Company, which will probably never crack down on fanfic because it's free advertising.
Without further ado...
Starship Tipton
By
James Doyle
Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable arrived at the doorstep of the fabulous Tipton Hotel in historic Boston. The green-eyed redhead arrived clad in a high heels, lavender business skirt with matching jacket, and cream-colored blouse. Her blond-headed fiancé accompanied her clad in khakis and and a powder blue golf shirt, covered by a black sport coat. He did little to hide his discomfort in this style of clothing, but heeded his bride-to-be's admonition to dress in a manner appropriate to such a venue.
A colorfully- but elegantly-clad African-American gentleman in the early years of middle age came up to greet him, accompanied by an attractive young Asian-American woman clad in what could only be described as the cutting edge of high fashion.
"Kim," exclaimed young woman as she approached hug Kim, something she rarely. "So good to see you again! How are you?"
"I'm doing great, thanks," replied Kim, surprised at how tightly the young heiress could hug. "Getting married, obviously."
"Oh my gosh, yes! I always knew you two were meant to be!"
Ron cleared his throat. "Uh, last time you saw us you couldn't remember my name for more than two minutes."
"May I see the ring?" asked London, ignoring Ron. Kim rose her hand to display the modest but elegant diamond engagement ring Ron had picked for her (with Mrs. Dr. Possible's assistance.)
"Hmm," said London as she examined the ring. "Don't worry," she said with her trademark clapping of hands, "I'll get you a nicer one."
Kim observed the indignation in Ron's face. "That's quite alright, London. I'm quite happy with what Ron got me."
"Standing by your man, I like that. Kim, this is Marion Moseby, our general manager. He'll be seeing to you all your needs."
Moseby smiled and shook both Kim and Ron's hands. "It's pleasure meeting both of you."
"It's really nice of you to let us have our wedding at the Tipton," replied Kim. "Normally, this would be way out of our budget."
"Think nothing of it," replied Moseby. "It's the least I could do after you saved our hotel in Athens."
"No big," said Kim with mock nonchalance. "Villains these days have no creativity in placing bombs."
"By the way Kim, where are the tweebs?" interrupted Ron.
"They met up with another couple of twins at the mall. They said they'd take the T and meet up with us later."
"Other twins?" said Moseby with a slight gulp. "These twins would be about five feet tall with blond hair, would they?"
"As a matter of fact, they were," said Kim. "Do you know them?"
Moseby sighed. "Zack and Cody Martin. Rest assured, Miss Possible, I'll see to it that they keep the mayhem to an absolute minimum for your wedding."
"If you're looking to keep them out of trouble, you might wanna pull them and the tweebs apart," suggested Kim. "Otherwise, we'll have to pay our babysitter extra."
"Babysitter?" asked London.
Just then, a tall, muscular fellow with a brown crew cut entered the hotel, clad in khaki pants and a brown jacket.
"Barkin," said the man as he approached the guest services desk. "Stephen Barkin." The clerk quietly handed him his room key.
"Alright, Possible," said Barkin as he approached the group assembled in the lobby. "Where are those two hooligans you call siblings?"
"You must be the babysitter," commented Moseby, slightly intimidated.
"Are the commander of this outfit?" demanded Barkin.
Moseby nodded. "Marion Moseby, at your service."
"Possible and Stoppable have asked me to oversee peacekeeping efforts for the duration of this operation. This includes containment of the juvenile element."
"Very well," said Moseby. "You can start by going to the mall and retrieving both sets of twins."
"Aye aye, sir," said Barkin as he stood at attention, saluted, and departed.
Barkin returned about an hour later with the Martin boys in tow. Jim and Tim had taken the train back to Logan Airport to await the arrival of Kim and Ron's respective parents. After dropping the twins off at their suite, Barkin joined Moseby, London, Kim, and Ron in the restaurant.
"We'll be seated shortly," informed Moseby. "We're just waiting for a few of our other guests."
"What other guests?" asked Barkin.
"We'll be joined by Madeleine Fitzpatrick, one of my finest employees. As for the other two, Miss Possible and Mr. Stoppable wished to surprise us."
"You must be Maddie," said Kim as young bleach-blonde clad in a humble evening gown approached their party.
"Kim Possible," exclaimed Maddie, barely containing her excitement. "It's so awesome to finally meet you!"
Maddie extended her hand, only to have Kim offer her a hug. "And you must be Ron Stoppable."
"You actually know my name," commented Ron at the rare event that had just occurred.
"Of course I do," replied Maddie, who then turned back to Kim. "He's always so cute when his pants are falling down!"
Ron shrugged. A guy's gotta have a gimmick.
A few moments later, a blue-skinned man with a black pony tail arrived, looking rather uncomfortable in his powder-blue tuxedo. At his side stood an attractive green-skinned woman with long black hair, clad in an elegant green and black evening gown and high heels.
"Shego," grumbled the blue man. "We need to have a word with the dry cleaners. They shrunk my tux."
"Uh huh," replied the green woman rolling her eyes. "You think maybe getting your rear-end handed to you by Kim Possible all those years might have actually kept you in shape?"
Moseby's mouth hung wide-open. "Dr. Drakken and Shego? Absolutely not! This is a reputable establishment! I'll not have these hoodlums in my hotel!"
"Ahem," replied Shego. "Hoodlums who saved you, and...oh, I dunno...six billion other people from enslavement to alien invaders. Show a little gratitude."
"Shego's right," added Kim. "Besides, they're our guests. As crazy as it sounds, it just wouldn't be our wedding without them."
Moseby looked over at London, who together with Maddie shook her head disapprovingly at him.
Moseby's scowl changed instantly to a smile. "Welcome to the Tipton!"
Moseby's misgivings about Drakken quickly faded as the dinner conversation went on. As it turned out, the two eccentric men shared a number of common interests, including eighties pop-music and reruns of Beverly Hills 90210.
"I swear, Shannen Doherty is incapable of finishing a series!" commented Drakken.
"Tell me about it," replied Moseby. "Charmed went straight into the commode when Rose McGowan came on the scene."
"And just what was with that Andrea pregnancy thing? That is so overdone in prime time television!"
At the other end of the table, the ladies carried on their own conversation.
"So I've heard you shop at Club Banana," said London to Kim.
Kim nodded. "It's not the bleeding-edge of high fashion, but it's pretty tight for upper middle-class folks like me."
"Oh, I agree completely," said London. "That's why my father owns ten percent of the company."
"Wait, time out!" interrupted Ron. "If your dad owns ten percent of Club Banana, then that means he owns ten percent of Smarty Mart!"
London pondered for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose he does. Why?"
"You're looking at the general manager of the Middleton Smarty Mart," said Ron proudly.
"No way!" said London. "That's you? My father told me in his last e-mail that your store is outselling any other store in the chain by fifty percent."
Ron smiled. "What can I say? I have the midas touch."
"I'll say," replied London. "It seems pretty clear your talents are being wasted there. Why don't I talk to my dad and see about getting you a position with corporate."
Kim smiled at her future husband. She'd always known Ron had been destined for great things once he found his niche.
The ringing of Ron's cell phone interrupted the conversation. Ron examined the caller ID.
"Excuse me, I gotta take this," said Ron as he walked away from the table toward the restrooms. He returned a few minutes later which a slouch and a long face.
"Ron, is something wrong?" asked Kim.
"That was Rabbi Katz," he replied.
"I gather your officiant has been detained," inquired Moseby.
Ron nodded. "He was visiting relatives in Europe, and was supposed to meet up with us here. But there was a freak snowstorm, and all flights out of Prague have been canceled for at least twenty-four hours. He's gonna try and get on a train so he can catch a flight out of Vienna, but he's not real hopeful."
"I'll get the concierge," offered Moseby. "I'm sure we can find a rabbi to officiate."
"We're actually having more of a secular ceremony," explained Kim. "We just wanted someone special to both of us to officiate. I'm sure whoever you can find will be fine."
"Belay that concierge call," said Barkin to Moseby. Kim and Ron nodded their confirmation. Barkin led Kim and Ron away from the table to speak with them privately.
"I'm not sure how to say this, but, I'm authorized and willing to officiate your wedding," whispered Barkin.
"Seriously?" replied Kim.
Barkin produced a small business card-sized certificate from his wallet. It read:
Let it be known that
Stephen Foster Barkin, Jr., M. Div.
Has been ordained as a Minister of the Gospel in the Evangelical Church of North America
On this, the seventeenth day of February
In the Year of Our Lord
Nineteen hundred and seventy-eight
Kim and Ron couldn't believe their eyes. It surprised them not in the least that Barkin was an ordained minister. After all, he seemed to do just about everything else. Though the unavailability of Rabbi Katz certainly disappointed them, having Barkin, who had touched their lives in so many other ways, officiate their wedding, would be truly special.
Kim looked over at her fiancé, who nodded approvingly.
"Mr. Barkin," said Kim. "Or should I say, Reverend Barkin. We'd be honored to have you marry us."
"Ladies and gentlemen," Barkin announced to those still seated. "I'm assuming command of these nuptials."
The party applauded. A brownout interrupted their reverie.
"Moseby," protested London. "Hasn't Arwin fixed this yet?"
"Patience, London," scolded Moseby. "It's a very complex problem."
"Perhaps something we can help with?" volunteered Drakken.
"At this point, I'm inclined to accept," sighed Moseby. "The Tipton is a unique building, and thus has always had some unique maintenance issues. We installed a new emergency generator last week, and uncovered even more irregularities in our power grid. Our engineer Arwin is still trying to ascertain what function these circuits actually serve."
Just then, one of the waiters came over and summoned Moseby.
"You'll have to excuse me. The problem we've been having in the towers with sewer gas has resurfaced.
"Are you sure it's sewer gas?" asked Shego. "Usually that'd stink up the whole hotel."
"Perhaps not," replied Moseby. "All I know is, we've had a few small explosions in the towers. I was hoping to have them under control before our happy couple arrived."
"Sounds like we better check it out," suggested Kim, who together with Kim, Ron, Shego, and Drakken, accompanied Moseby to the northeast tower. Once there, they found an open janitor's closet. The continuous bubbling on the wet floor indicated gas emitting from one of the cracks. Shego took a sniff, then cautious touched a lit finger to the bubbles. The explosion knocked her against the far wall.
"That," said Shego, "is hydrogen. Colorless, odorless, highly explosive. We need to evacuate the hotel."
"The fire department insisted it was sewer gas," shouted Moseby. "They'll be receiving a strongly-worded letter from corporate!"
Just then, the fire alarms went off.
"That's odd," observed Moseby.
"Yeah, real kwinky-dink that an explosion would set off the fire alarm," replied Shego.
"No, I mean they're sounding in a highly unusual pattern. Honestly, can't anything function properly around here?"
"Um, could we maybe focus on something more productive, like getting our butts out of here?" shouted Ron.
Moseby nodded. "The nearest fire exit is off the grand ballroom."
The party mad their way to the fire exit, only to find it sealed off by a blast door that had easily dispatched the existing door jamb. Another blast door burst through the wall coverings and sealed off the northeast tower.
"Did we get everyone out of the towers?" asked Kim.
"Good gracious, I hope so," replied Moseby.
Back in the main lobby, dozens of panicked guests pounded on the blast door that had dropped and sealed behind the main entrance.
"That was Fire Chief Pendleton," said Moseby as he ended his cell phone conversation. "He's going to try and get us out of here, but we don't know what's going on here, so he's clearing the near five blocks."
Moseby's phone rang again. "Moseby here," he answered.
"Moseby," said the voice on the other end. "This is Chief Pendleton."
"Any news?"
"Yeah, we don't know what your building is made of, but we can't make a dent in it. We're sending in a demolition team from the National Guard. They should be here in a few minutes."
"Very good. Thank you, Chief."
Just then, the whole building began to shake violently. Guests and staff found themselves pinned to the floor by the force of acceleration. The power went out for a moment before the emergency generators came on.
"Look," said London, pointing to a television displaying news coverage of the crisis. "That's us!"
The video feed, taken from the harbor, showed the Tipton Hotel ascending above the Boston skyline atop a pillar of flame. Shortly thereafter, the satellite dish lost the signal.
After what seemed like an eternity, the rumbling stopped, and occupants of the Tipton ceased to be pinned to the floor and began to float around. An elevator door opened, and Arwin the hotel engineer came tumbling out uncontrollably, pinning Moseby to the far wall.
"Mr. Moseby," cried Arwin. "I have something important to tell you."
"Yes, what is it Arwin?" demanded Moseby.
"I've been looking over this circuitry, and some of the old blueprints. I think the Tipton is really a rocket ship!"
"No!" replied Moseby with mock surprise. "Really?"
End of Chapter One. Stay tuned!
