Hey! Look! An update! Amazingly amazing. After I left you so stable on solid ground last time. This one has been a long time in coming, I know, but I have a feeling it'll be good... I'm in a random mood (I mean, c'mon, I'm listening to Shipoopi and various other songs from the Music Man), so, yeah.

--

Kirk looked around, bewildered. "Uh... You weren't there a moment ago."

"Yes, Captain, we were." Spock responded.

Kirk skewered Spock with a glare, and turned to McCoy. "Seriously, Bones, you weren't here a minute ago. And neither was any of this stuff. The trees, the grass, none of it."

Spock opened his mouth and was promptly kicked by McCoy. "Doctor, why are you kicking me?"

McCoy ignored him. "Y'know, maybe you're right. Go ask Jones about it. He'd know if we moved."

Kirk looked skeptical, but went anyway. When he got to Jones, he started to talk. Jones took one look and screamed.

"AHHHH! GHOST!!" Then he broke off at a run, closely pursued by Kirk.

"I'm not a ghost, Ensign!" Kirk's shout went unheeded by anyone, as it was covered up by Jones' yelling.

"GHOOOSSST! GHOSTGHOSTGHOST GHOSSSSST!"

Kirk broke off the chase, seeing as how a redshirt who thought he was being chased by a ghost, and who also was contracted to this story as long as he didn't die, was uncatchable by mortal man. He sighed, and turned to Spock.

"So, who's fault do you think that is?"

"What is?"

"Jones' fear of ghosts, and his belief that I'm a ghost."

"Jones' fear of ghosts most likely came from Tavia (A/N: Y'know, I don't think there was anything where he ran from ghosts before, but, c'mon, he's Jones)." Spock surmised.

Kirk sighed. "Of course. And his belief that I'm a ghost?"

"From our current Author."

Kirk paused. And kept pausing, as he presumably contemplated that. Then he opened his mouth wide, and began to bellow. "AUUUUTTTHOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

With a flash, I appeared before him. "You rang?"

"Go get Jones back."

"No."

"Do it."

"I regret to decline your invitation."

"I regret to announce that I don't care. Do it."

"Hey, who's the author?"

"Who's the Captain?"

"Authors better."

"No it isn't."

"Okay, Author ranks higher."

"How?"

"We write what you do."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do not."

"Do to - Hey! Cheater!"

"Comes from quoting Jack too much."

"Who?"

"Skip it."

Confused yet? Me, too.

"Okay, fine, Author may rank higher, but I'm the Author in Revenge of the Red-Shirts. I'll do something mean to you." Kirk smirked. Hey, it rhymes!

I scowled. "Fine. What did you want, again?"

"Go get Jones."

"If I must..." With that, I disappeared with a poof.

--

A split second later, I reappeared in front of Jones with a similiar poof. "STOP!" I commanded. He tried to screech to a halt and turn around, but knocked me over and kept running.

As I pulled myself up from the ground, I shook my head. "Never underestimate the power of a scared red-shirt..."

Again, I disappeared and reappeared by Jones, but this time I floated above him. "Stop!" I commanded again.

"No!"

"What are you running from?"

"I forgot!"

"So why not stop?"

"Because it's still chasing me!"

It sounded logical to me. Of course, logic has absolutely NO place in my stories.

"Fine! But watch out for the wall."

"Wall? What wall-" Then there was a loud 'SMACK' and Jones bounced back from the air and hit the ground.

"The invisible one I put in there earlier." I smiled at him apologetically.

"Why me? I think I'm dying! AGH!" Jones wailed.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a drama queen?" I inquired thoughtfully.

"Yes, frequently."

I nodded. "Thought so."

Then Jones resumed his wailing.

"Oh, cut it out." I moaned. "That wall was specifically designed so it couldn't hurt people, just stop them." I shook my head. "Now lets go."

"Go where?"

"Back to Kirk."

"AHHH! The ghost!" Jones sprang up and ran into the wall again, with the same result.

I buried my face in my hands. "How does he do it?" I mumbled to myself.

Jones got up and dusted himself off.

"Okay, look, Kirk ain't a ghost. So... no running off, okay?" I stared at him.

"Ghost! Where?!" He began to run at the wall again, but I caught him by the collar before he got there.

"Jones, you're running towards the ghost. See?" I pointed, and a ghost appeared just beyond the wall.

Jones screamed again and run back towards where Kirk and Co where waiting.

I did my disappearing act, and reappeared with the above-mentioned Co just as Jones was arriving. He saw Kirk and started to turn and run, but found himself trapped in an invisible box.

"No more running off. And remember, that's the way towards the ghost." I looked at him sincerely.

"But there's a ghost right there!" Jones' eyes were wide with fright.

"Jones, he never died." I'm not sure why I tried to reason with him, but I did.

"Yes he did! I read the script! He's dead!" He took out a bunch of papers. "See!"

I looked confused, then my eyes went wide. "No! How'd you get your hands on that? That's not the script for this, that's - " At this point I became aware of a smoldering glare from Kirk. "Uh, that's someone elses." I may be the author, but, well, he's Kirk. He'd scare you if you got him angry at you. "Anyway, give me those." I grabbed the papers from him, and put him in a randomly appearing bag, which just as promptly randomly disappeared.

Kirk looked at me. "You have no intention of giving those back, do you?"

"I already did."

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did. They were mine. You see, I had this idea for a really tragic story and angst and stuff where everyone dies a while back." I cringed a little.



"And...?" Kirk prompted threateningly.

I cringed a bit more. "Er... I kinda changed the series."

"To...?"

"Your comepetitors. I'm killing off everyone there, so, er, be happy. You don't have to die. At least, not by my hands or not yet." I shrugged innocently. "No guaruntee's about other people's stories."

He considered this. "Hm... good enough."

"Alright, now that we've wasted an entire chapter with Jones' chase, we should get moving," I decided. "And yes, we have to." I added when others opened their mouths to voice their objections.

"Wait a minute. Vhat 'we'?" Chekov asked. "Does this mean that you're coming vith us?"

I nodded.

"Does this mean we can have wodka vhenever we vant?"

Another nod.

"Okay, just clarifying."

"Uh, why?" Sulu asked.

"It's more interesting then going to shool." I got a look of disgust. "And I wanna make sure you don't get into more trouble like that little wasp incident again."

"Ah."

There was a pause. Everyone obviously expected someone to say something. The silence stretched on. Without a break.

McCoy finally broke the silence. "Well, you pointy-eared Vulcan, what are you waiting for?"

Another silence, but much shorter.

"Well?"

I looked puzzled. "It was in the script for him to say something. Why isn't he speaking up?"

Everyone shrugged more or less at the same time.

"Hm... come to think of it, where is he?"

Another unanimous shrug.

Jones gave a little squeak. "Uh... I may of seen someone who looked kind of ominiscent - like you but wearing black - hit him with a whack-bonk and drag him away..."

"A whack-bonk?!" I growled a little. "Those aren't for characters! They're only for authors! And why didn't you say anything?"



"I tried, he pulled out a pen and paper and wrote something down and then I couldn't talk until he left." Jones squeaked in his defence.

"And why didn't you until now?"

"Uh... I kinda forgot."

I paused, and then summoned up a tree next to me.

"What's that for?" McCoy asked.

"This." Then I started hitting my head against the tree. "Why. Is. This. Happening. To. Me. What. Did. I. Do. To. Deserve. It."

"I take it you know this man?"

"He's the Black Author. He has plagued the stories of authors for ages. He's also known as Writers Block, or at least the cause. And he's why your schedule is always cluttered up when you try and write something. He's never been this open before, though, and no character has ever seen him and remembered it." I sighed. "He leaves them a special script, and they read it, and it tells them to forget, so they do. How Jones remembered is beyond anyone's guess."

Jones shrugged. "Well, that's easy. I just didn't read the script." At that I nodded, and then resumed banging my head against the tree.

Kirk spoke up. "I don't know about you people, but we need to do something about this."

I lifted my head again. "By the powers, yer right!" I thought. "We need to rescue Spock! Now, men, this will be a dangerous and risky attempt, but - "

"Risks?!" Kirk began.

"Oh no."

"Risks are our business! When man first looked out at the stars - " There was another loud whack, and then a bonk. I looked at them all evenly, holding my whack-bonk in my hand. A round of applause went up.

"Now, as I was saying, we should all be okay if we stay togethor, and nobody leaves my sight. Got it?"

Everyone there nodded.

"Hey, where'd Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and the Redshirts go?" I looked around.

McCoy looked up. "They left when you started your little speech to track down the Black Author."

I sighed. It was going to be a long rescue attempt.