All the school kids so sick of books
They like the punk and the metal band
When the buzzer rings (Oh-Way-Oh)
They're walking like an Egyptian
All the kids in the marketplace say:
Way-oh-way-oh-way-ooh-ah-ooh...
Walk like an Egyptian.
– The Bangles (Walk Like an Egyptian)
=/\=
There were loud bonging sounds throughout the Temporal Integrity Commission's Human Unit's offices. "What does that noise mean?" Branch asked.
"It's temporal restorations. So we've got a few so far. That's good," Kevin replied.
"Is it completed?"
"Nope," Kevin said, checking a PADD, "we've still got Trill First Contact in 1986. That part is totally wrong. But it looks like the Vietnam War ends on time, and it's not in 1997. It's 1975, like it's supposed to be, and Bangkok never gets nuked."
"Will the others return soon?"
"Definitely – at least Polly and Dan will. In the meantime, let's talk about you," Kevin said.
"Us?"
"Uh, yeah. And the Varg-i-yeh as well."
=/\=
It could not yet be seen, not even with the most powerful of telescopes, but the Varg-i-yeh were making good time during their trip to the Milky Way galaxy.
They would get ahead of themselves, temporally integrate, then travel in time again, and then temporally reintegrate, and so forth. It was not a particularly efficient process, but it was a rather rapid one, considering the number of light years that had to be covered.
New worlds to conquer and new species to subjugate! Those were the motivations for the Varg-i-yeh.
The Varg-i-yeh wanted nothing more than to be at their destination. Covering vast distances was a bore and a chore but at least they were getting somewhere.
=/\=
On the other side of the pond, in 2192, Tom stepped into a universe in a perpetual minor key. It always felt strange there. Bad mojo, Rick would have called it.
On that side, there were no Beckett or Reed houses, and no headstones, at least none devoted to Doug Beckett – as he was already on our side of things – or Kevin Madden-Beckett – as he had not had a mirror counterpart.
Figures emerged from the shadows around him. "You got a lotta explainin' to do," said a man's voice with a Northern Florida accent. Tom guessed – rightly so, it turned out – that that was Tripp Tucker, a name he knew from history as being one of the people who had helped get Doug Hayes over to our side of the pond.
Tom began to turn around when a soft female voice said, "Slowly, and with hands raised. Lucy, check him for a weapon." That was – he didn't know that yet – Beth Cutler Tucker.
A late middle-aged woman patted him down. "He's clean," she said. She was Lucy Stone Masterson.
"Now," said yet another female voice, "just who the hell are you, and where did that little ship go?" The voice's owner was another late middle-aged woman, who had likely been a striking beauty in her day. She was grey-haired, but freckles on her face belied a redheaded past. Coppery snakelike tattoos up and down her arms resembled a mirror version of Lili Reed's false calloo tattoos. This woman was former Defiant engineer, Jennifer Crossman.
=/\=
"Got anything yet?" Shelby stepped into the shuttle bay where Frank was working on the Flux Capacitor. A wrapped sandwich was in her hands, her pretext for being there.
"Um, thanks," Frank said, taking it from her. "We're alone. C'mere a sec." They kissed.
"Well?"
"I wish I could figure it all out," he said, "there are lines here that collect, uh, something. And circuits and relays over there are heading around, to here."
"So?"
"So the collection is, I think, fuel, although it might have something to do with how this thing passes through time. The relays I just mentioned – I think that those power a cloak. But again, I'll be damned if I know anything for sure."
"She'll torture that guy until he gives up all he knows about this thing." Shelby said, "Which I don't think is all that much."
"You're probably right." He took a bite out of the sandwich. "One thing that's really weird is, I don't think there's Communications anywhere on this thing."
"If you're going to 1492, you don't need 'em."
"Right, but you do in 2192. This thing just gets weirder and weirder, the more I look at it."
=/\=
"Whew!" Sheilagh was breathless.
"Had enough?" HD yelled over the din of the loud, thumping music in a Miami nightclub.
"Yeah, I think so!" she yelled back.
"Ha, fella, goin' home with Mom, eh?" said some drunk.
HD glared at him. "What's it to ya?"
"C'mon, let it go," Sheilagh said to HD, taking his elbow and trying to steer him out of the club.
"Ditch the kid," commanded the drunk, "and get with a real man." He was a military type, possibly connected with the Cape.
"I'm already with a real man," she said.
"He's got no skills! Guys like that, they're just wham bam, thank ya, Ma'am!," replied the drunk.
"When did this magically, mystically turn into your business?" she asked sharply.
"Don't give him the goodies," the drunk slurred. He stumbled forward, and tried to grab her breast, but he missed his target.
"Get away from my girl," HD said menacingly.
"What're ya gonna do, sonny boy?"
HD uncorked a right, and hit the drunk squarely in the jaw. The drunk countered with a hard left straight into HD's gut. There was an audible "Oof!" as HD had the wind unceremoniously knocked out of him.
Sheilagh put a hand out and helped HD up. They ran out, searching for an alley. Finally finding one, they hit recall on the Transporter remote control and beamed back to the Audrey II, which was orbiting the moon.
They sat together for a while, as HD felt himself recovering and the Stem Cell Growth Accelerator in his body doing its job and repairing a cracked rib or two. The stranger's punch had hurt a lot more than the damage would have normally caused, but such was the case with Stem Cell Growth Accelerator – all the pain in a fraction of the time. After a pause of some time, Sheilagh said, "So, I'm your girl?"
"If you think that, maybe, you wanna be."
"I definitely wanna be."
=/\=
Slide your feet up the streets
Bend your back
Shift your arm then you pull it back
Like Sergeant O (Oh-Way-Oh)
So strike a pose on a Cadillac
If you want to find all the cops,
They're hanging out in the donut shop.
They sing and dance (Oh-Way-Oh)
They spin their clock and cruise on down the block
– The Bangles (Walk Like an Egyptian)