Disclaimer: Is it possible to own real people, in the literary sense of the term? I don't think so. And as the majority of characters parading through here are actual people someplace on this planet, I don't own anybody. There's a certain satisfaction in being able to say that Paramount doesn't own them either.
This was the slowest growing chapter I have ever written. Don't ask me why, it was interesting and all, but slow. Anyway, it's here now.
I had no idea there were so many people who would want cameos. That's okay, the more the merrier. This is going to run several chapters, I think…
Chapter Forty-Seven:
Somewhere on FF.net
The briefing room table holds, I believe, ten, at a stretch. We fit twenty-three. How? Simple. We rewrote the table. Easy when you know how. And when you've got fifteen writers on hand, we knew how. We also outnumbered the Starfleet personnel two to one.
I had claim on a seat at one end of the table. It was my story, you know, minor privilege. Kirk had the seat at the opposite end, being the captain and all. In between was a lot of activity, people chattering back and forth and up and down. More on my end of the table, the Starfleet officers being slightly more subdued. Things settled down eventually, you can't chatter forever. Well, you can, but there was business to get to also.
"So, everybody know everybody else?" I asked.
The general answer was more or less. More on the part of the writers, less on the part of the Star Trek characters. They knew, but vaguely. Introductions seemed reasonable.
I started with the girl on my left, sixteen, blonde hair, freckles. "First off, this is…I've lost track, you tell me."
She grinned. "Ensign Expendable."
I shrugged. "If you say so."
"Let's see, I write lots of stories, some Star Trek, some not. The clones are mine…and the dead body."
Kirk took new interest. "You're the one who killed me? How do I resurrect?"
She looked faintly guilty. "I, ah, haven't finished it."
"You haven't finished it? I'm lying dead on a transporter pad, and you haven't FINished it?!"
"I don't finish many…"
"I know," I said sourly.
"Heh, heh…"
"Moving on…next to her is EmpressLeia."
She was about fifteen, long brown hair. "Or you could shorten it to Emp, lot of people do. Trekkie, Warsie…"
"Only person I've ever heard use the term Warsie," I put in.
"Really?"
"I don't know many Star Wars fans though. Next to her is Ael. Or Admiral Danks."
Also brown hair, but a year or two older, with glasses. "Ael is fine. I speak Vulcan and Romulan, and I write a lot of stories on here. And I finish them. Some of them."
Kirk was looking at her with a puzzled expression. "I have the funniest feeling I know you from somewhere…"
An eyebrow rose—not Spock's. Ael's—and for just a moment she looked uncannily Vulcan. Kirk blinked, and the moment passed.
"Call me crazy," Kirk said uneasily, "but are we related?"
She smiled enigmatically. "It's a long story."
And a very good story, but it's got its own spot on Fanfiction and this wasn't it. "Meanwhile, next to her is Shameeka…or is it Sukuru now?"
Another brunette, a couple years younger though. "Sukuru, I guess. I like TOS, anime, the color blue…I'm really boring."
"Which probably isn't true," I threw in.
"Oh yeah, the jello was mine."
"Why was there jello on my ship?" Kirk asked, then put up a staying hand. "No, don't tell me, I don't want to know."
"Wise decision. Next to the girl with the jello we find Silver."
Still another brunette. (If you've been counting, that makes five out of six, counting me.) Silver was the oldest so far, at about eighteen. "I'm Silverfang's muse. Mostly I handle Zelda fics, but this looked interesting."
"A muse? Really? Maybe you could talk to mine. She gets lost a lot. I think she might be somewhere near my algebra book…"
That received a ripple of laughter, but no particular response, as the flow of conversation was interrupted by Chekov. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was? Ensign something?"
"Stargazer."
He frowned, puzzled. "Are you sure? I thought…"
"Don't ask, just accept it," I advised. "Next is Beedrill."
A blonde. Dark blonde, some might even call it brown, but I'm told that it's blonde. "Well, I'm either a seventeen year old human female, who's a Star Trek, Dragon Ball Z, SpongeBob fan, or I'm a giant bee. Take your pick."
Spock's eyebrow climbed. "You do not appear to have the physiological structure of a giant bee."
"Guess I must be human then."
"Precisely what would lead one to believe that you are a giant bee?"
"That's what a beedrill is, didn't you know?"
"Fascinating," Spock said faintly.
"And after that strange interlude," I cut in, borrowing a phrase ("strange interlude" if you're unsure which) from the Marx Bros., "we get to Hanakin. Formerly Nevfennasiel."
An unequivocally non-brunette at last. Red hair, hazel eyes, and freckles. "Well, I'm sixteen. I like Star Trek, of course. Also the color pink, cats, and coffee with French vanilla creamer and sugar. And I don't know why I'm telling you that, but I guess I'll toss it out there."
"Random is good," I said firmly. "Anyway, next down the line is Nurse Chapel, and then the rest of the Starfleet group, and since we all know them I guess we'll start over at this end again. On my right we find Kiri of Gondor."
Another non-brunette. A blonde. "Hi…I don't actually post Star Trek stories, I write original fantasy on Fictionpress, but I like this story so I'm here anyway. And I'm Tavia's cousin."
"Nepotism, you know. After her we've got Alania. Followed by PearlGirl."
More brunettes (two). Brown hair, blue eyes, glasses and braces. "We're sisters," Alania said, "We co-wrote 'Read This or Else,' and we've each written some stories on our own."
"Yeah, but I've written more," PearlGirl said.
"Quality over quantity."
For once it was McCoy, rather than Kirk, who interrupted an argument by asking something. "I have to ask, are you two twins?"
"No, I'm fourteen, she's thirteen," Alania said, "but everyone thinks we look alike. Her hair's poofier."
"My hair is not poofy!"
"If you can't tell, they argue a lot," I commented. "After them is A.M."
"An unusual name," Spock commented.
"It's my initials," she explained.
"Ah. I thought perhaps there was some connection to morning; a.m. and p.m."
"Wonder what those stand for anyway," McCoy said idly, then realized what he had said. "No, don't—"
Too late. "Ante Meredium and Post Meredium."
McCoy groaned. "Why do you know these things, Spock?"
I already knew the answer to that one. Because he's Spock. So I felt no qualms about interrupting. "Anyone else feel like this is a completely random divergence?"
"Yes, actually," A.M. commented.
"Okay, we'll move on. Next to A.M. is Me."
"No, you are at the end of the table," Spock corrected, his eyebrow rising as though with a mind of its own.
"No, she means me," the man next to A.M. explained.
"Right," I agreed. "He's Me."
Spock looked at both of us. His eyebrow climbed a little higher. "I do not think so."
"Maybe you better just call me Doug," he said.
"That's probably easiest," I agreed. "That's Doug."
He was greeted with a fair bit of enthusiasm. "I was beginning to think our lives were completely in the hands of teenage girls," was Kirk's take on it.
"Actually, I don't post any original Star Trek stories."
"Our lives are completely in the hands of teenagers," Kirk said bleakly.
"What, don't you like us?"
"I'm not sure. I just remembered that you're all the ones who keep killing me off." He frowned suddenly, looking puzzled. "And I can't figure out why I can't remember your name."
"Starseeker."
"I don't know…anyway, I do remember you're one of the ones who keeps killing me. A whole lot of you seem to regard it as a favorite theme!"
"You're exaggerating your own importance again," Emp told him.
"We don't all kill you. I never have," Ael pointed out. "I've just…done a lot of other things to you…"
"See? See? You're all out to get me!"
"We are not," I said. "And anyway, it's just…'Favorite Character Mutilation Syndrome,' isn't that what you called it, Emp? Translated, we only do it because we love you."
"Yeah, but a lot of us love Bones more," Hanakin pointed out.
"Really?" That was the faintly surprised reaction from McCoy.
"Really?" That was the faintly displeased reaction from Kirk.
"Yeah. So why don't we kill him off?" she continued.
"Some of us do."
"Don't even go there," I warned her. "That's still only just barely forgivable."
"Can we talk more about this mutilation thing?" Kirk requested uneasily.
"No, we have to finish figuring out who's here and what we're going to do about FF. We can do random conversation tangents later. Next in line is Wedge."
More brown hair, but somehow referring to a guy as a brunette (or even a brunet, which Webster's says is correct) doesn't sound right. Anyway, brown hair, turquoise eyes, glasses. "Full name's WedgeAntilles…also one at the end, but that's FF's fault and doesn't really count. I write a lot of Star Wars, but I've done some Trek too. And I don't like describing myself, so that's all."
"Okay, that's everyone, let's get down to business," Kirk said briskly.
"Wait a minute," I interrupted, "there's two more."
Kirk took a better look at who was sitting next to Wedge. "Someone please explain to me," he requested, "why there's a guinea pig at the table."
"Hello!" the guinea pig said brightly.
"That's Unrealistic," I explained.
"I quite agree," Spock put in. "A talking guinea pig is not realistic."
"No, no, she's not unrealistic, she is Unrealistic."
"That is a contradictory statement," Spock observed.
"It's really very simple." I grinned. Who can resist teasing Spock when the opportunity is presented? Not me. "The guinea pig's Unrealistic, Who's on first, and What's the name of the guy on second."
Spock blinked. "I don't know."
"Third base!" at least half the writers chorused.
"Didn't you ever see Abbot and Costello?" Emp asked.
"Who?" Spock asked, mystified.
"First base," I said immediately. "They're comedians."
"The first baseman is a comedian?"
"Can we get back to the point?" Kirk demanded. "Why is there a talking guinea pig at the table?"
"What they've been trying to get across is that my name is Unrealistic," the guinea pig explained. "I volunteered to be Tavia's guinea pig."
"Yeah, and are you sure you wouldn't rather be human?" I asked.
"It would probably would be more fun, true." And because, of course, it's a story and doesn't necessarily have to make perfect physical sense (and I always hated physics anyway) she immediately morphed into a human female, sixteen, blonde. "Okay, that's better. Well, I've only posted one original Trek story, so mostly I'm just here for kicks."
"Who are you planning to kick?" Spock asked.
"Ideally? Picard."
"Hey!" That outraged exclamation apparently came out of thin air.
Unrealistic sighed. "That would be my annoying brother. He wanted in on this, remember?"
"Oh yeah, he did, didn't he?" Immediately a boy, fourteen, blonde hair and tall, appeared at the table between Unrealistic and Sulu. "Presto. Quantum Maniac."
"And I have no idea why he's here," Unrealistic muttered.
"I'm here in case Picard and his crew shows up. Can't let you have all the fun. And of course," he added with a broad grin, "I had to come meet Spork!"
The Eyebrow rose. "Spork?"
"SPORK?!" the outraged cry rose from all other writers present.
"Don't insult Spockie!" Alania snapped.
The Eyebrow continued it's upward trajectory. "Spockie?"
"Wow, did I hit a few nerves?" Quantum asked.
That was met by more outraged rumblings. I think we very easily could have had our first murder of the story. And I was half inclined to go along with it. But there is one thing that's more important, even than taking vengeance on people who call Spock 'Spork.' "Hey, people, G-rating! Kill him in your own story, can we keep mine blood-free?"
I don't think it would have worked. I don't think they would have listened to me, and if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. But fortunately for Quantum, the briefing room doors opened at that moment, a random red-shirt stuck his head in, shouted, "There's a giant purple swirly thing outside!" and immediately left again. This was sufficient reminder that we still had stories overlapping and something needed to be done. Quantum could be killed later.
"So…what are you going to do?" Kirk asked the writers in general.
"FF usually fixes itself…eventually," Emp offered.
"Sure, but in the meantime I'm lying dead on a transporter pad, six McCoys are walking around—"
"Potentially more than a hundred," the author of that story put in.
"—jello is filling the corridor, and there's a giant purple swirly thing outside!"
"I have an idea," I said. "That's why I needed reinforcements, because I can't do it myself. It seems to me that we've got a pretty good percentage of the Trekkies on FF here, so much of the elements that show up should belong to one or another of us, or at the very least we'll be familiar with it. For everyone who doesn't write Trek, there's no reason to assume non-Star Trek elements won't be turning up, maybe because their writers also happen to be Trekkies, I don't know. Anyway, I don't pretend to understand the technology of it, but if we downloaded or uploaded or sideloaded or whatever our own stories when they turn up, that would get them back into our control and hopefully maintain some kind of order around here until FF fixes itself."
The group considered.
"Not unreasonable, but there are gaping defects in your logic."
"Thanks, Spock, that's sweet of you."
"I fail to see how it is 'sweet' to offer constructive—"
"It's my story, it doesn't have to be logical," I interrupted him. "So what's everyone else think?"
There was a general murmur of agreement, with a few phrases such as 'can't hurt,' 'could be fun,' and 'let's try it' scattered throughout.
I beamed. "Great!"
"So how are you planning to organize this?" Kirk asked. "Have everyone wander the corridors and watch for elements of their own stories?"
"Yep. All we need are laptops and guides. So who do you guys want to wander around the Enterprise with?"
So…who do you want to wander around the Enterprise with? Two or three possibilities please, I'm expecting a run on McCoy, Spock and Kirk (in that order), but I'll do my best to accommodate everyone. I make no promises though.
Hope you liked the chap! ^_^ I know it was actually fairly sane. That will change, and soon…
And in reply:
Taskemus: Thanks, I thought it was kinda unique! And yes, a whole year. Don't know where the time goes. The title of that I stole from a really, really sad song…about how wonderful it was and now it's gone…sniff.
Ael: Dragonsez. Snicker. This reaction seems to indicate that they should come back…
AliciaF: I kinda like the labor day idea, but I'm once again in the middle of an arc. Next year!
AgentWebb: It's amazing. Everyone loves Jones and pink tribbles, lol.
Broken Infinity: Spock is fun, isn't he? Esp when confused…
Silverfang: FF's screws up all the time…today included. So I think it deserves these chapters! : )
Solidchristian-88: Of course it's ridiculous. What else would it be?
PearlGirl: Actually, it wasn't a first for Spock. Check the end of "Technically Speaking." Glad you enjoyed the chaps.
Alania: Yes, I think the self-esteem has been boosted…
Sukuru: Nooo, not the first time. And thank you, I had a very nice time!
Unrealistic: Always happy to boost other people's confidence! And it was a good story.
Hanakin: I don't think you're the only one whose family thinks they're crazy…
Whatshername: I have the feeling you enjoyed this…
Wedge: Doug Adams? Really? Cool.
A.M.: I either lost or didn't get a description from you! I blame AOL. Either way I need one!
And now I'm done and posting!