Chapter Three: Back to School
For six months, the new Eternity Agents endured a grueling and very peculiar training program.
"Parry, riposte, step back," McLeod repeated over and over, walking past the students arranged in a staggered line. Quinn, Rembrandt, Professor Arturo, Maggie, Xander, Picard, Riker, Giordi, Kira, Bashir, Sarah Connor (looking mildly annoyed), John Connor (having fun) and Annalee Call were in the oversized dojo, holding practice swords, following MacLeod's instructions. They were wearing form fitting off-white jumpsuits that absorbed sweat and kept the wearers cool and fresh. "Step, cut, parry, riposte. Sarah, you're putting too much weight on one leg. Good stance, Professor -- your college fencing is coming back to you. Remember that a fighting sword is heavier than a foil, though. Giordi, don't grip the sword so tightly."
"Waste of time," Sarah muttered to herself -- not softly enough to avoid being overhead by MacLeod.
"Waste of time, is it?" MacLeod said.
"Guns made swords obsolete," Sarah replied.
"And if you are sent to a primitive timeline, no guns allowed, what then?" Louder, to the rest of the group. "All of you need to qualify with at least one hand weapon. Swords are fairly common, and very effective. You'll get to train with the staff, improvised weapons, and bow or crossbow, too, but it'd be a good idea if you know which end of a sword to pick up." He smiled. "Perhaps some sparring will help convince you." He looked up and spoke into thin air: the Fortress' computer would rely his words to their recipient. "MacLeod to Amanda: would you please bring the advanced class in here for a little one-on-one?"
There were groans all around. "Don't worry, the room projects force fields that will spare you from most of the damage. Most, but not all -- pain is a good teacher, and I'd rather you hurt a little now than see you trying to pick your entrails off the floor."
A door opened. Amanda came in followed by Ioalus, Gabrielle, Worf, Ezri Dax, Buffy and Sherlock Holmes. Gabrielle had a staff; the rest were carrying swords. Bashir wasn't thrilled at seeing his girlfriend come from the advanced sword class, but he reminded himself she had Curzon Dax's skills inside of her.
MacLeod considered the situation. "Eight to thirteen -- doesn't seem fair."
Amada smiled back. "It should be thirty to eight, but my class could use the exercise."
MacLeod nodded. "I'll spar with the Connor family."
John mock-grimaced. "Thanks, mom."
"Mr. Holmes and Professor Arturo?" The two Englishmen nodded and took positions. "Ezri, take Xander and Giordi, Worf versus Quinn and Rembrandt. Buffy versus Maggie and Kira, Ms. Call and Gabrielle. Captain Picard and Riker versus Amanda. Doctor Bashir versus Ioalus. Places, everyone. Try to avoid tripping over the other teams. All right, on my mark, now!"
The training room exploded in a flurry of motion. John Connor charged, giving a half-assed kung-fu shout. MacLeod, sidestepped the slash and delivered a crippling blow to John's neck, and turned just in time to parry a wicked thrust from Sarah. She was fast, and had some training in stick fighting, but not nearly enough. Their swords locked, and Sarah tried a snap-kick to the groin, but MacLeod was expecting it, and his thigh blocked it even as he sent Sarah's sword flying with a quick disarming twist. Sarah was not done yet, however. She tried a takedown, fingers reaching for his eyes, body bearing down on him. It almost worked. MacLeod twisted, avoided the eye-gouge, and tossed Sarah over his shoulder. She landed in a Jiu-jitsu position, started to kick -- and felt MacLeod's sword against her throat.
"You have speed, and you have viciousness, but it's hard to make those count against someone with a yard of steel in his hand," MacLeod said.
Sarah leaped to her feet. "Made you flinch, though." Her smile was not altogether unfriendly.
MacLeod observed the rest of the melee. Holmes tapped Arturo's chest with the tip of his sword after a brief flurry of parries and ripostes. "Touche," Arturo said. Further down Amanda and Picard were still sparring, Riker was already "dead." Buffy was showing Maggie some parrying techniques after the swift victory. Ezri was helping up Xander, who had a stunned expression in his face. Worf had wiped the floor with the two Sliders in a few seconds. Only Bashir was -- barely -- holding his own, matching his bio-engineered reflexes against Ioalus' experience. It couldn't last, and it didn't; Ioalus beat aside the doctor's blade, and scored a killing blow.
"I hope this is sinking in," Duncan said. "Some of you have some skill in empty-hand techniques, but swords are better than empty hands. They give you reach, striking power, and the ability to disable your opponent quickly."
Most of the students nodded thoughtfully at that.
"All right, then. Places, everyone -- and step, parry, step back…"
"This is highly irregular, master," Obi Wan Kenobi said in a low voice.
"It is what the Jedi Council has decided," Qui-Gon replied.
The meeting had been interesting. Qui-Gon had insisted on gaining the approval of the Jedi leadership, and several members had been invited to the Fortress, where they met with Mother. It had been -- refreshing to see so many old and powerful Jedi become rattled and confused in her presence. In the end, they had agreed to let Qui-Gon and Obi Wan go with Mother. More importantly, they had given the Jedi permission to train any promising candidates at his own discretion. The new students were too old, and had not been properly raised in the ways of the Force. All but one of them seemed to have overdeveloped one of the paths of the force, to the detriment of the others. And all were women, a relative rarity in his world, although not forbidden.
The four students were sitting cross-legged in the training room. Wade Welles -- the one with the most potential to develop into a true Jedi. Counselor Deanna Troy, whose empathic abilities might be sharpened to enable her to manipulate the emotions of others. Phoebe Haliwell: her precognitive power might be developed and combined with lightsaber training. And, finally, Prue Haliwell, who could project the Force with her mind. Their sister Piper's abilities were beyond Qui-Gon's ken, so he had not invited her. In any case, he could only devote half as much time training the Haliwells as the other two students: they were also undergoing magical training under Pug and Miranda, along with another young woman, Willow.
Qui-Gon wished he had more time. Given but six months, he had chosen the four most promising students. He and Obi Wan would do their best to develop their potential in that time. Then they would have to act.
"Empty your minds," he began in a clear voice. "Feel the Force within you…"
Xena attacked, a living whirlwind of violence.
Buffy retreated from the onslaught, parrying, dodging, blocking punches and kicks. Xena might not be a Slayer, but her reflexes and strength were just as good -- if not better. Buffy had not felt this evenly matched since her battles with Faith.
Well, time to start giving a little bit back, she told herself as she ducked under a high spin kick. She moved in, landed a hard punch in Xena's midsection, followed up with a side-kick to the chin. Xena went with the blow inertia and somersaulted away. Buffy started to follow -- and Xena suddenly reversed her leap and caught her with a scissors-kick right. Two muscular legs clamped around Buffy's neck, and the Slayer was twisted and smashed against the floor. Without the safety force-fields, a normal human -- maybe even a Slayer -- might have suffered a broken neck.
As it was, it hurt quite a bit.
Xena prepared to strike at her prone body. Buffy raised an open hand. "Time out," she said. With a fierce smile, Xena offered her a hand up. Buffy accepted it.
"Got too eager there," Xena said. "You had me worried for a second."
Their current score was 5-3 in Xena's favor, counting this probable broken neck (which Xander would have called, in his worst Mortal Kombat imitation "A Fatality!!"). Buffy had won the first two matches, until Xena had gotten a feel for her fighting style and figured out how to counter it. The warrior woman had been stomping bad guys for a lot longer, after all.
As Buffy got her second wind, she surveyed the other matches. Hercules and Tomas were mixing it up. They were the strongest two in their merry band, and each time one connected a solid punch, the other went flying a good twenty yards. Buffy had sparred with both of them, and been on the receiving end of those punches -- even with the force fields, it was like being hit by a car. Fighting them was definitely a "don't try this at home" experience..
"This is very realistic training," Xena said. "Without those invisible shields, we would have had many serious injuries, even deaths."
"Yup. Hurts almost as much as the real thing," Buffy agreed. "Some distance away, Ripley and the Terminator were squaring off. Ripley scared Buffy a little. Her strength and speed were amazing -- not quite Hercules, level, but close -- but that wasn't what bothered her. There was something -- inhuman about her. It reminded her a bit of Spike, or Angelus, and she didn't like it. The quiet woman seemed quite willing to hurt people. At that moment, she and the Terminator were exchanging killing blows. Nothing sportsmanlike about those two, Buffy thought; they were just trying to tear each other to pieces as fast as possible. Hercules was your basic Boy Scout -- Buffy won their first match together because he was unconsciously pulling his punches. Tomas was a bit more pragmatic, but was a regular knight in shining armor unless his battle rage consumed him. The T-100, on the other hand, did not care who he fought; unless told otherwise, he went for the kill, quickly and efficiently.
On the other side of the room, Doc Savage took Worf down with a devastating punch. The Klingon still looked surprised; few humans had been able to match him in hand to hand, and none had bested him consistently -- until now. The man called Savage was not only stronger and faster than most humans, but he was a superb tactician. He lacked the bloodthirsty ferocity of a Klingon, but more than made up for it with his physical and mental abilities. He would be a worthy comrade at arms. He saw Buffy looking at him, and gave her a curt nod. The Slayer was another dangerous opponent, despite her small size. In fact, though Worf was loath to admit it, he was probably the lowest-ranking fighter in this room. It was a humbling experience, and one that drove him to greater efforts. "Another match, doctor?" The Man of Bronze nodded.
Mr. Data entered the sparring room. His trans-quantum mechanics session with Professor Arturo had run longer than expected, and he was running late. Once the Professor had been disabused from a number of 20th-century misconceptions, he had been capable of amazing insights about parachronic phenomena, and his discussion on paradox had been quite intriguing. He saw Xena and Buffy talking, and approached them. "Sorry for my lateness. Perhaps the two of you would care for a sparring bout?"
Buffy groaned. Data was the third strongest guy in the group, or maybe the second, depending on the type of strength test, and punching him was like hitting a brick. She looked at Xena. Xena grinned. "Two on one?"
"Sounds good to me," Buffy replied, and the fell upon the android like twin avalanches.
Cool, I get to be an instructor, Xander thought.
Well, junior instructor. Arnold -- the cyborg pronounced his name 'Ah-nold' for some reason -- was the lead instructor, with Xander and Maggie as assistants. The course was 19th to 21st Centuries Firearms 101. Xander was an expert -- a small side effect of dressing up like a soldier on a Halloween night when people had turned into their costumed identities. Maggie, with her military training, was another. Sarah Connor was better than either of them, but she was teaching an explosives course -- or, more accurately, Ordnance Disposal 101 -- next door.
The "ancient" guys and gals -- Xena, Gabrielle, Hercules, Ioalus, Tomas and Miranda; Pug had excused himself -- were there. Obi Wan Kenobi was reluctantly there as well. The Galaxy Quest -- sorry, Starfleet -- people were mostly not there; their holodeck experiences had given them more than enough training in firearms. Only Giordi and Ezri Dax had shown up. Xander thought she was cute, but she was already dating a doctor, so no hope there. Gabrielle was mega-cute, too, but he suspected she and Xena had something going on, and trying to find out might get him in trouble with Xena. Xander had no intentions of pissing off someone for whom the expression "tear your head off" was, well, not really an expression. Maggie was way out of his league, too -- after Faith, he'd pretty much sworn off on macho women, unless Buffy saw the light…
"Pass the ammo around, will you?" Maggie said behind him, startling him out of his daydreaming.
"Sorry," he replied. People had a number of semi-auto pistols in front of their firing booths in the 25-yard range. Man-shaped paper targets floated in front of the group.
"Ready your weapons, but keep them in safe," Arnold said. There was a ragged chorus of clicks as the students loaded the weapons. "There, you didn't pull the slide all the way back," Xander told Gabrielle as she fumbled with a Beretta 9mm. She gave him an embarrassed smile as he helped her, and he felt warm and tingly all over. Like Willow, but with extra muscles, he thought. Or like a cross of the better attributes of Willow and Faith…
"Take aim, and ready the weapons," Arnold continued. "Five shots. Fire."
The students fired away. Xena eschewed the two-handed Weaver grip they were teaching most of the students, and fired her .44 Magnum revolver with one hand, as fast as she could pull the trigger. Xander opened his mouth to criticize -- and then closed it firmly. No sense making trouble.
The targets floated towards the firing line. Gabrielle had hit hers twice with her five shots; she was pulling high and to the right. Xena's target had five holes at in the middle of the forehead, less than an inch apart. "Nice grouping," Xander said.
"Guns make killing too easy," Xena said contemptuously. "If killing's to be done, you should be close enough to look into a man's eyes as you do it."
"But if you do that, they can kill you too," Xander blurted back.
Xena fixed him with a cold glare. "Exactly."
Well, so much for starting a 'starts with an X' club, Xander thought to himself.
"A big problem," Lucian Worldwalker said, "is the release of non-congruent energies."
He was addressing a full room. All the Eternity agents were there. Lucian was going over some of the basics of the Legion's work.
"Most of you have already determined that Mother's power is godlike. She can create and destroy matter with a thought, and manipulate energies of stellar magnitudes with ease -- her basic form of attack has roughly the same energy output of a nova. All of which begs the question 'Why does she need us?'
"The main reason is the non-congruent energies signatures she would create. Basically, if energies that are unusual for the local chronoline are released, there is a chance the Enemy will detect them. If that happens, It may attack in strength, with the sole purpose of destroying the planet. Apparently, the Enemy is not as skilled at parachronic travel as we are, so the only way for it to detect major nexus points -- places and times where the future of humankind is at stake -- is to hunt for noncongruent energies and home in on them."
Riker raised his hand. "So, other than our leader showing up and firing up supernovas, what else constitutes noncongruent energies?"
"It depends on the world in question. A starship firing all weapons in the 20th century would probably cause enough of a "blip" to be detected. Firearms or energy weapons in Ancient Egypt would have a small but noticeable chance of doing the same thing. Large applications of magic or psychic powers in worlds were such abilities are weak or unknown. Weapons of mass destruction in times and places where they were not supposed to be used."
"So we don't get to play with nukes," Rembrandt whispered sarcastically. "Breaks my heart."
"Sometimes you need nukes," Ripley said behind him.
"We may have to risk discovery if the stakes warrant it," Lucian continued, "But for the most part we will try to use local-equivalent weapons and equipment. There are some pieces of equipment you may safely use in any world, however." He held up a small silver ring. "These rings," he explained, "are the product of a very advanced civilization, as far ahead of the world of Starfleet as that world is ahead of Hercules' civilization. It is not overly powerful, but has the virtue of being virtually undetectable at the proper power levels."
"So what does it do?" Maggie asked.
"First, it extends a skin-tight force field around the wearer which activates when a sufficiently energetic object or current is detected headed in your direction. It is similar to the training shields, and will provide a measure of protection against impacts, heat and other forms of energy. It is not perfect -- heavy firearms will punch through with enough energy to wound or kill, and energy weapons or large explosions will overload it; a phaser on setting Seven will defeat the shielding with a shot or two. Even if it doesn't penetrate, an attack may produce enough jarring to hurt -- in other words, a .45 bullet or a hit with an ax may not get through, but you may still get bruises or even a broken bone."
"Still, a very useful item," Picard mused.
"Better than a suit of armor, and a lot easier to lug around," Miranda agreed.
"The ring also has limited offensive capabilities," Lucian added. "It can project kinetic force -- basically, it takes the energy of any movement you make with the hand it is on, and directs it against one target up to 50 yards away. About as powerful as a punch, modified by the strength of the wearer."
"In other words, if I use it, I can make someone laugh at fifty yards," Xander mused. "And if Buffy uses it, she can kick someone's ass at fifty yards."
"Finaly, the device provides a secure method of communication at up to fifty thousand miles. It projects thoughts directly onto other users, allowing for mental communications.
"Since the ring cannot be detected anywhere at these power levels, you can use it in every world you visit. In some chronolines, the power level of the rings can be greatly increased in safety. For the most part, they will work as I've outlined."
"This is totally phat," John Connor said. "Arnold is going to kick butt like Superman with that ring."
"Who is Superman?" Arnold asked.
"Three months down, three to go," Quinn mused. He and Wade were having a drink at the common lounge. It had been a hectic three months, with all the new agents studying and training as hard as they ever had. It had been, as Professor Arturo had put it, "like final exams at Oxford, initiation into the Druids, and Marine boot camp wrapped into a compressed, disagreeable package."
"It feels strange to stick around one place for this long, isn't it?" Wade said.
"It does, but in a good way," Quinn said. "It's not a real home, but it may become one."
"Our old home… it's almost like a dream now," Wade said absently. She still wouldn't talk about her experiences with the Cro-Mags. Counselor Troy was helping her heal, but she still couldn't open up to Quinn.
"So are you learning anything from those Jedis?" Quinn asked hoping to snap her out of her reverie.
"A few tricks," Wade said, a bit of her playful smile returning. She pointed at Quinn's glass -- and it slid across the table into her hand.
"Not bad," Quinn said.
Wade's smile was replaced with a worried expression. "It doesn't scare you, does it? I don't want to scare you away."
Quinn gripped her hand. "The only thing I'm scared of," he said steadily, looking into her eyes, "is losing you again."
Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "You'll never lose me again." She stood up, her hand in his, guiding them towards her bedroom.
"Never again."
Quinn went with her. For the first time since the Sliding began, he felt true joy.
And, underneath, fear that the joy wouldn't last long.
The party had been the Scooby gang's idea. Willow, taking a break from the practical magic classes she and the Haliwell sisters were taking under Pug, was the chief organizer. Phoebe, Gabrielle and Xander had been enthusiastic supporters, as well as Giles, to everyone's surprise. The fabricators at the Fortress had produced the required props, food and music. And the Legion Trimester Bash had begun.
A buffet table held all kinds of Earth and alien dishes. Xander got to try Blood Wine, and discovered it was an acquired taste, much to Worf's amusement. John Connor wanted to, but it's hard to get any underage drinking done when your mother is at the party. The Background music was eclectic, from Classical to alternative to even a (mercifully brief) round of Klingon Opera. Soon people were dancing on. Indiana Jones and Amanda, Quinn and Wade, Maggie and Iolus, Riker and Troy.
Xander looked hesitantly at Gabrielle. "Well, are you going to ask her to dance, or not?" Buffy asked him.
"I'm gathering courage," Xander replied. "Can I borrow some from you? I'm all fresh out."
"Xander, it's time to stop being a dork and start being a man."
"All right then. Buffy, would you like to dance?"
Buffy's eyes widened in surprise for a second. "Sure." As they walked to the floor, she added. "Don't look now, but I think Gabrielle looks a bit disappointed."
"That's all right, I'll ask her to dance on the next set. And then Willow."
"I think I've created a monster," Buffy said.
Not too far away, Phoebe had half-dragged Obi Wan Kenobi to the dance floor. The strait-laced Jedi was visible uncomfortable at first, but after some time he started to have fun. Phoebe's sisters watched her from the sidelines.
"Phoebe never wastes any time," Prue said. "I think we need to launch a recruiting drive for more cute guys."
"Well, there's Data over there," Piper said, and waved the android over. "He's smart, he's cute…"
"… he's a machine," Prue replied.
"Not a problem," Piper said, as she and Data walked to the dance floor hand in hand. Prue rolled her eyes.
And the Eternity agents danced, ate drank and were merry. New friendships, and a few romances, were forged anew. It was the calm before the storm.