Disclaimer: Let's start off with the fact that I own nothing here! George Lucas and his bunch own Star Wars and all related materials and characters. Joss Whedon and his gang own Buffy The Vampire Slayer and all related materials and characters. Aesop created The Tortoise and The Hare.

Um, let me say that this story is a continuation of the story Not Just Another Pretty Blond.

I warn you right now, there's really nothing interesting in this chapter; most of it is on the 'blah' level. Even the secondary story is 'blah'. But it is a necessary opening for the rest of the story.

Given my view of it, don't be surprise or blink when I edit portions of it, or even replace the entire chapter, as I did with the fifth chapter of Not Just Another Pretty Blond.

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Summary: Buffy and the Scoopies salvage and rebuild a lost fleet of starships.

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Buffy's Two Hundred

"Xander, please!" Buffy begged. Her green eyes big, and her pout on full wattage. "Pretty please?"

Internally, Xander staggered under the power of both the eyes and the pout-But he had to be strong and resolve about it, damn it! "No! Buffy, you don't need a couple of hundred spaceships!"

"They're starships! Not spaceships!" Buffy corrected, in outrage. "Besides, I only wanna a few . . ."

Xander slowly shook his head. "Yeah, you see . . .anyone else . . .and they'll buy that-But this is the Xandman you're talking to here-Two hundred is not a few. And, since we're being exact here, they're warships, not just starships-So . . .Why do you really need those ships?"

They stared hard at each other until-

"Fine!" Buffy finally spat out, changing tactics. She crossed her arms and glared at Xander. "You want to know? I'm bored. With summer here, I'll like to have some harmless, but challenging hobby. And since raising an army of flesh eating zombies is currently out of the question, I decided to settle on a mechanical and technical challenge-Ripping and cutting into two hundred dud warships and redesigning them into something Supreme Commander of the Republic fleet Revan would have been proud to command!"

"Okaay," Xander drawled. Wait, what did Buffy mean by 'Currently out of the question'? Sure, he might be experiencing feelings of paranoia . . . assuming Buffy was innocent-But this was Buffy/Revan! Zombies-did something happen and he missed it? Hmm, whatever Buffy was up to with that, it had to wait. "So . . .What? You're planning an invasion of some kind?" He half joked. "I thought you retired from the warlord game."

Buffy snorted and bounced over to the sofa; she threw herself into it and wriggled about on the cushion until she was comfortable. Buffy leaned back and absently began toying with the fringes of one of the throw pillows. "Game-That's the key word. You know the Trio and their stupid role playing games?" Xander nodded. "They and other magically incline geeks have taken it to a whole new level. Instead of arguing about which movie's or which T. V. show's toys or ships are more powerful, they build their own versions of the stupid things and fight it out-Winner get a free shopping spree through the multi-verse's biggest, and most expensive department stores and shopping malls!"

"Ah," Xander smirked in understanding and some relief. "And you feel it's the perfect way to get new shoes and humiliate a few good geeks?"

"Yep!"

"Alright!" Xander grinned. "I'm with ya!" Andrew Wells! Eat your own action figures!

Four days later, Buffy and the Scoobies stood on the observation deck, staring in silent dismay at the two hundred warships, floating in the protective embrace of the shipyards. The hidden spacestation and shipyard was anchored somewhere around the planet Jupiter's gigantic shadow.

"Maybe they're not that bad . . .?" Murmured Willow optimistically.

"Oh, they're that bad," said Buffy, grimly. "A pathetic excuse for a power plant. Weak, almost non-existing shields and wiring so inefficient it usually takes a crew of six thousand to man one-But wait! They fixed it, so, now, they need a tiny crew of only twenty-two hundred. As for firepower . . .Turbo lasers, laser cannons, quad lasers-And, all of them so under powered that some smaller, cargo transports out there can actually punch holes in the stupid things!"

Xander sighed, closed his eyes and gently and slowly, banged his head against the observation window. "Are you sure they're not needed in their home dimension?" He asked hopefully.

"Nope," Buffy said flatly. "I made certain to snatch them from a dimension where they wouldn't be needed-So, now, they're all ours."

"Crap."

"Hey! Hey! Turn those frownie faces upside down!" Willow chided. "Take this as, as an opportunity to do something about those flaws-Get the ships up to our standards! We have the time, the energy and the resources to do this thing!"

A moment of silence, and then Buffy grimaced and shrugged one shoulder. Xander gave a slight nod. But neither was optimistic about their small project.

Five weeks later, the Slayer and the Scoopies stood on another observation deck and silently watched two hundred ships begin their transformation from expensive jokes, to formidable warships.

Each ship soon began to glow with a greenish cast-Their hulls darkening and thickening, becoming fluid and viscous, expanding outwards; details became indistinct and nonexistent as the ships' outer hulls seemed to balloon into a cocoon of swirling greenish energy.

For three weeks, each ship had undergone a series of scans-The scans deep and thorough enough to penetrate down to the subatomic level. Every portion of each individual ship was intimately and deeply studied, understood and known. Hundreds of different materials, compounds, natural and artificial, were cataloged and considered. Then, they were either salvaged or discarded during the redesign process. Ribbons of energy, running through every construction involved in the ships' creation, came under the sharp and critical eyes and Force senses of three powerful Force users.

Two weeks before the cocoon stage, and Buffy and the Scoobies, drag themselves away from their work with the ships.

The lounge area was a massive, transparent globe, reachable by a circular ramp opening up in the middle of the lounge. Buffy, Xander and Willow fell into one of the sofas; Buffy in the middle Xander to her right and Willow curled up on her left with her head resting on Buffy's shoulder. Buffy softly whimpered, Xander groaned and Willow sighed. After several long moments, Buffy quietly cursed, "That sonovabitch . . ."

To her side, Xander coughed, licked his dry lips and deliberately took a deep breath. "Palpatine was a bastard, all right. Two hundred ships, with a crew of 2,200 . . .I can't begin to guess why no one even considered sabotage."

"Palpatine was sneaky," said Willow softly. "Now we know he was Sith, but back then he was only a visiting dignitary to the ships' yard. It would have been easy for him to fake interest in the workers, go from ship to ship, feigning good will, touching things-The usual Politician Takes A Tour stuff."

"All the while, Palpatine is hexing the ships with every loving touch," Xander said sardonically.

"Cursing," Willow corrected.

"Cursing, hexing-Tomato, toemato," Buffy interjected impatiently, shrugging her right shoulder. "Hmm, it makes a twisted sense, though. Consider, Palpatine favored the new star destroyer design over the old dreadnought type; he also had axes to grind-Right and left. With the fleet lost, those folks would have been especially hard hit and, oh, so screwed! Palpatine would have gotten political capital from his rivals' humiliation and fall, and considerable support from rival shipyards and companies. Overall, he'd expended a little bit of dark energy and raked in a huge profit-With no one, not even the Jedi, noticing his activities."

Each of them mulled over their own thoughts and the last eleven exhausting hours they had put into digging out and neutralizing Palpatine's nasty secret. Searching through each individual ship with their Force senses, they located the pulsing, angry blotches of dark energies contaminating each vessel. Whenever they could, they exorcised and dispersed the energies. Other times, they had to physically cut out the infected part and dispose of it instead of salvaging or recycling it.

Slowly, each tired and exhausted mind began the gentle transition into sleep. Buffy noticed Xander's snores and Willow's sighing breath-Buffy struggled to stay awake but only succeeded in taking longer to fall asleep. Her final conscious sight was the massive planet Jupiter drifting out in space.

Buffy's final conscious thoughts settled on the pickle brine-where she had a dozen squirrel carcasses soaking. Like she slipped to Xander, raising an army of flesh eating zombies was currently out of the question, but she could hand make about a dozen little prezzies for a few deserving people. She even had the ribbons and wrapping paper picked out-Now, the only real challenge was in preserving them well enough that no odor escaped the packaging. Since formaldehyde negated the reanimation spell it had to be something cruder.

Oh, Xander! Buffy considered her peacefully, snoring, friend and self-appointed keeper with great fondness, if you only knew . . .With that last thought, Buffy fell asleep.

Two weeks later, the gang stood on the observation deck, and watched the final procedure and step towards their own little fleet.

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"There! It's finally finished!"

A triumphant tortoise shuffled back and viewed his new ride. Sim held the hot soldering iron in one clawed, scaly paw. The cord plugged into a socket, wired up to a large battery.

Suddenly, an unbelievable blast of noise and foul air hit him hard enough, to cause Sim to jump as high as a tortoise could jump! The newly released hot soldering iron clattered and thumped down on bare rock and sand. Sim cursed and retrieved the tool, glad and relieved he had prepared the area before setting up the iron.

"Wat'za mean? Watz finished?" A slurred voice demanded.

Sim momentarily ignored the voice-he slipped the iron back into its coil stand and unplugged it. Then he faced the 'voice'-A disreputable gray rabbit swaying in an invisible breeze. The rabbit's name was Eree and he looked like the drunken creature he was. Sim observed in disapproval the red, bleary eyes squinting in the sunlight. The cockeyed ears and worse, the sloshing human child's toy tea cup Eree griped tightly in one paw.

"My tortoise car," Sim grandly gestured to his creation-To be frank and honest, most of it was the doing of a human, in his late teens, who had been vamped nearly a week before he had found it. A toy, the human, was going to enter in a race with other radio controlled home made vehicles. After getting vamped, he was still going to enter, and win after he ate the rest of the contestants and judges; however, a little, blond girl dusted him before he could do much of anything. Even if someone else made the frame, the cradle and webbing and the paw controls, those were his additions. With the modifications, the six wheeled, treaded vehicle became his creation!

Eree took a noncommittal sip from his cup, squinted at the vehicle and, unexpectedly, released another loud, long burp! Causing Sim to once again jump for the sky!

"Uh-huh, so watz it do?" The rabbit used his free paw to scratch his furry rear while eyeing the contraption.

Sim still trying to calm his racing heart, suddenly felt his temper escaping and he sputtered out-"Watz-What does it do? It's got wheels! It moves-fast! In fact, once I'm in there, neither demon nor human will be able to catch me!"

"Hmm . . .Watz that thingy over there," Eree waved a vague paw in the direction of the fire extinguisher, encased on top of the vehicle, above the battery. The rabbit swayed and nearly toppled to the side.

The Tortoise snapped his beak in irritation. "That is a fire extinguisher-It'll help push the vehicle even faster!"

"Oh," Eree said, he looked thoughtful. Then he took another sip from his toy teacup, released another ear-busting burp and said, "Nope. It ain't gonna work-It's still too slow."

Sim gaped at the drunken rabbit, and exploded: "What do you mean it's too slow! It's faster then you! You hopped up, long eared, gaseous, drunken freak!"

Eree giggled and grinned. "Nope. Sure, I'm-I'm all those things, but I'm still faster then this hunk of junk!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!" Sim howled in rage.

"Are too!" Eree smirked. "And I can prove it . . .I'll race ya! I'll even do one better and put up a whole case of chocolate. That way we race for proper stakes-Not just bragging rights! 'Cause, thats nice too."

"If you can put up a case of chocolate, then I can put up a keg of beer!" Sim glared.

"Ooooh! Thats a good one!" Eree approved. "See, tomorrow morning, we meet up at the dry creek, next to the black oak-Start the race there; go towards Howler hill, cross the road, keep going until we hit Spencer cemetery. Winner is the first to cross the lawn. We begin when the bottom of the Sun hits the treetops; so, are ya with me?"

"With you? Don't be silly! I'll pass you and make you eat my dust!"

"Tchz the spirit!" Eree slurred. Then he burped.

High in the tree branches, unobserved by either rabbit or tortoise a gleeful squirrel clapped and rubbed his paws together.

Late that night, Sim carefully rolled the last full beer bottle across the thorn covered path Eree the rabbit had to hop down to get to the dry creek. The tortoise told himself he could win without resorting to cheap tricks-But why chance it? Besides, he really liked chocolates.

In his comfortable burrow, Eree slept and snored in easy, and drunken, bliss.

The Sun was still behind the trees. But the birds were in full throat chorus and the day creatures were up and about. Including one impatient tortoise encased in his strange multi-wheeled and treaded vehicle.

Sim's hope of victory by forfeiture was dashed, when a staggering rabbit shuffled into the starting area. Eree was clearly drunk-even more so then he was the day before! Somewhat satisfied, Sim reasoned that if he was that far gone, how far or how fast could the alcohol stricken rabbit get?

Whatever confidence Sim had of an easy win evaporated the moment the race began. Out shot rabbit, his weaknesses forgotten and wiped away. His legs pumping, his ears pressed back closed to his body; rabbit's muscles bunched and flowed. His lean body expressing speed and strength. Rabbit's eyes so unfocused and faded, changed and took on a sharp, determined diamond glint.

The tortoise gasped-Rabbit was flying! Not running, flying! His paws indistinct blurs: every bound and leap propelled rabbit through the air-Nothing seemed to slow or stop Eree. From his place behind the rabbit, Sim saw rabbit leaping and twisting and bouncing off the sides of trees, large logs, and boulders. In his tortoise car, Sim's body was violently jolted and batted about from side to side. But the turtle car still rolled on the rutted, uneven, debris and obstacle seeded path. While he was behind, tortoise could still see the rabbit-Sim called that a good thing. Because if he had lost sight of the bunny, Sim acknowledged he might as well have gone home and delivered the keg to Eree's burrow.

A moment later, they exploded out of the underbrush and on to a smooth dirt road. Ah, what Sim's had been waiting for! He pulled the lever to the fire extinguisher and was shoved back, as the tortoise car became airborne with the Whoosh of escaping chemical flame retardant!

He could hear screaming-Yes . . . it was his own voice releasing a mindless scream. Sim could barely keep the tortoise car on the road, but, oh, how exhilarating the ride was!

In a pounding heartbeat he was alongside the rabbit. And there they stayed for one, two heartbeats! Finally! The road they had to cross opened up in front of them! Sim noted with sincere relief that the road was empty of traffic.

In a heart straining moment, Sim pulled ahead and hit the blacktop with Eree a whisker behind him!

Neither saw the shadow that fell on them and most of the road. The owner of the oversized shadow followed-A four ton, writhing blue dragon and it's unwanted rider, a petite, blond young woman swinging a double headed axe at it's neck! Most everyone hoped that neither rabbit nor tortoise felt pain when the fallen dragon squished and smeared them into the road.

Urk'Han, squirrel and bookie, gasped and slowly stepped away from the opera glasses he was using to keep track of the race. He gulped and turned to the crowd of squirrels hold white betting slips. Urk'Han's facial muscles twitched, he grinned weakly, "Uh, fellas? You're not going to believe this, but . . ."

Buffy heard the scream and presented a battle ready pose, with her axe ready to cleave into anything that dared showed up. She was not in the best mood, after killing a dragon that left her stranded on the other side of the town and worse, ruined her clothing with icky acidic blood!

She looked up into the trees, and there were a group of squirrels holding down one squirrel while one applied wax, yet another pressed a strip of paper on the wax, another ripped off the paper. The screams followed. Worse . . .dozens of squirrels, more then Buffy ever suspected lived in Sunnydale, sat on the branches and tore up pieces of white paper, then threw them down in obvious rage!

Buffy turned and sprinted away. Vampires, demons, and if necessary aliens, she could handle-But weird rodents? Nope! Buffy decided that keeping certain details to herself was as necessary as breathing!

In the secure hollow of a tree, an owl opened it golden eyes. It stared out at the white fall of paper outside it's nest, blinked once, ruffled it's feathers once and then closed it's eyes, promptly falling asleep.

Hoot!

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What? Did you actually think they were going to get hit by a truck?

This is goodbye, for now.

Bye!