Earth: A Rendezvous with Destiny Chapter 26: The Fandom Menace, a star wars fanfic

Lance Corporal Patrick Stewart - Rifle Group, Infantry Section One, Second Platoon, 1st Battalion, Prince of Wales's Own Regiment of Yorkshire, Yorkshire Brigade, 3rd Commonwealth Division, British Army

RNS Stargazer- Wanderer -class transport- En Route to Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

09:15:16 ATC /Monday, September 15th, 1969 - 15:42/3:42 PM

"Tea, Earl Grey, hot." Patrick Stewart repeated in exasperation, his accent thick and rich. The food replicator pinged again, flashing an inscrutable error message. He slammed his fist on the console, the metal rattling under the force of his blow. "Bloody hell! This blasted contraption is more aggravating than a Lancastrian at a Yorkshire cricket match!"

All around him, the Republic transport vessel was humming with activity. Crew members of various alien species bustled about, performing their duties with focused efficiency. Stewart, a conscripted actor drafted into Her Majesty's Service, felt out of place among the advanced technology and bizarre extraterrestrial beings.

He leaned against the replicator, his naturally bald head shining under the bright lights of the mess hall. "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot." The Yorkshireman tried again, enunciating each word carefully in a manner worthy of a Shakespearean play. The machine whirred and clicked, then produced a steaming cup of... something. Stewart lifted the cup, sniffing suspiciously at the contents. It smelled like someone had poured perfume into boiling water. The Englander took a tentative sip and promptly spat it out, gagging at the unfamiliar taste that was not even like Lipton.

"Is there something wrong?" A deep voice rumbled behind him.

Stewart turned to see a massive, brown-skinned and muscular creature with a horn on his head and beady orange eyes. A Krex, he recalled, remembering the briefings on the various member worlds of the Republic. The being wore the insignia of a colonel, and Stewart recognized him as Ardinondu Dipolus Daeruun, the highest-ranking Krex officer on the transport.

"Forgive me, sir." Stewart apologized, setting the offending cup aside. "I was attempting to procure a decent cup of tea, but this... abomination... is an affront to the senses."

Daeruun chuckled, a sound like rocks grinding together. "I still recommend the Gatalentan tea, Lance Corporal. The flavor is quite unique, though it is best appreciated when shared with others."

Stewart hesitated, torn between his desire for a proper brew and the strict regulations prohibiting fraternization between enlisted personnel and officers. But Daeruun was not a British officer, and surely the rules didn't apply to alien allies? "Very well, sir. I would be honored to share a cup with you."

The two sat at a table, and Daeruun ordered the Gatalentan tea. The cup that appeared was filled with a pale, shimmering liquid that smelled faintly of lotus blossoms. Stewart inhaled deeply, hoping for a more pleasant experience than before. He took a cautious sip... and nearly choked as the tea slid down his throat, coating it with an oily, cloying sweetness.

"Is it not to your liking?" Daeruun asked, noticing Stewart's struggle to maintain his composure.

"It's... an acquired taste, I suppose." The Yorkshireman managed, setting the cup down before he embarrassed himself further. He thought longingly of the ration packs, with their familiar tea bags procured from the lowest bidder. At least those were comforting and familiar, unlike this strange new world he found himself in.

As he sat across from the imposing Krex, Stewart's mind wandered to other unpleasant memories like the constant belittling he had endured from his abusive father. Or the time he had been unexpectedly punched in the face by a feisty Lancastrian lass following a performance with the resulting impact sending him down to kiss the asphalt yet despite the ghastly incident and having to testify in youth court he couldn't help but to wonder whatever happened to Oakley Shelby Delbrück, the then young girl who certainly kept the cause of House of Lancaster alive, an intergenerational regional rivalry that only started with a bloody feud in the Fifteenth Century. Still, despite the episodes in his life, the stage had always been his refuge, a place where he could lose himself in scripted lines and carefully crafted performances.

But now, drafted into National Service and flung across the stars, Stewart felt adrift and out of his depth. The futuristic tech, the alien species, the strange customs - it was all so overwhelming. He missed the comforting familiarity of home, the smell of pea soup, and either the sound of cricket balls thudding against bats or the black-and-white ball being kicked around the pitch.

He glanced up at Daeruun, who was regarding him with a curious expression. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not usually one for maudlin reminiscence, but this... well, it's all been quite a lot to take in."

The Krex nodded, his snout twitching. "I understand, Lance Corporal. Leaving home can be a surreal experience but it also can lead us to unexpected places and unexpected friendships."

"Aye, sir. I suppose you're right." Stewart acknowledged with a wry smile. "Perhaps this strange new galaxy has more to offer than just bad tea and awkward social interactions, something that I imagine can be rather difficult for the captain of a starship."

Daeruun returned his smile, revealing a mouth full of sharp, gleaming teeth. "I think you'll find, Lance Corporal, that there is much to appreciate in the Republic, if you're willing to look beyond the surface. Now, shall we try again with the tea? I believe there may be a blend that would suit your tastes more closely."

And so, over cups of fragrant, floral tea, Stewart found himself opening up to the Krex colonel, sharing stories of his life on Earth and learning about the vast, multifaceted culture of the Republic. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, in a strange galaxy that seemed determined to keep him off balance, as if it was obvious that he did not belong, that his very presence was only tainting it.

As he raised his cup in a silent toast, Stewart reflected and had second thoughts, that perhaps this strange new reality wasn't so bad after all. With friends like Colonel Daeruun, and the possibility of discovering new tea blends, he might just find a way to make this place feel like home, as if he truly belonged in this plane of existence instead of being some unwanted blight, and hopefully he would not be mistaken for the enemy in the process.

Oakley Shelby Meyer

Acton, Franklin Township, Marion County, Indiana, United States of America, North America, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy

09:15:16 ATC /Monday, September 15th, 1969 - 21:00/9:00 PM

It was late in the evening, and the cozy living room of the Bower's residence was alive with the chatter and laughter of five young women enjoying a slumber party. Oakley sat cross-legged on the floor, her half-sister Valerie sprawled beside her, while their half-second cousin Frauke lounged on the couch, flanked by Valerie's two friends, Janice and Ivy. The atmosphere brimmed with youthful energy, fueled by countless snacks and the flickering glow of the television screen, which had just concluded yet another episode of the popular series'Star Trek'that aired on NBC.

"I can see why Jake suspects'Star Trek'of being a Communist plot." Oakley stated with a serious expression, her tone was deadpan as she offered her interpretation after the credits rolled. "It's not only subversion but absolutely rubbish."

"You mean to tell me you actually agree with your brother's nutty assessment?" Frauke asked, her brows furrowing in disbelief as she was bewildered at the conclusion.

"That's right!" Oakley exclaimed, the conviction in her voice rising. "Roddenberry must either be a pinko or some sort of closeted red. Honestly, I think this program should be taken off the air entirely."

"Well, I'm not convinced." Janice said as she chimed in, shaking her head in disbelief. "It seems a lot like'Wagon Train'to me."

"It's subtle." Oakley insisted, her tone sharpening. "But if you know what to look for -" She paused momentarily, allowing the suspense to build, only to be interrupted.

"You're talking to a fellow member of the John Birch Society." Janice interjected. "We're all Birchers here."

"Well, if you really suspect that Star Trek is some elaborate Communist plot to subvert the American way of life with subliminal messages then perhaps you should write an article for eitherAmerican OpinionorThe Review of the News." Frauke suggested with a smirk, her gunmetal blue eyes twinkling.

"Perhaps after writing something condemning Arthur Scargill." Oakley replied with a mocking tone. "It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if Yorkshire has more Marxists per capita than Colindale in London or Scotland."

Ivy - who was wearing a Butler University dark blue sweatshirt emblazoned with a white bulldog - shifted in her seat as the redhead and aspiring history teacher remembered something."Say, that reminds me, Oak. I have a history report due in two weeks and I choose to do it on the War of the you happen to know anything about that Medieval conflict?"

"Do I? Why, it's in my heritage." The girl who had spent most of her formative years amid the rolling hills and verdant fields of Lancashire simpered, her eyes sparkling with a proud and mischievous glint. "The Wars of the Roses was an epic struggle that made the notorious Hatfield and McCoy feud look like a minor spat, never mind the laughable Toledo War. It all began when the noble House of Lancaster, proudly displaying the red rose, clashed with the pretentious Yorkists, who flaunted their insipid white rose, for supremacy over the English crown. The air was thick with the scent of blood and treachery as ferocious battles raged across the land including Wakefield and the Second Battle of St. Albans, but in the end, it was Lancashire's unyielding spirit and indomitable strength that crushed those pansies into oblivion." Oakley chuckled before adding an afterthought. "And you'll never catch me dead with anything from Yorkshire."

"You wouldn't even have an adorable little Yorkie if you ever had the chance?" Janice exclaimed, her face agape in shock. "But they're so cute!"

"She'll have a Yorkshire Terrier and pamper it with a bowl of Yorkshire pudding when pigs fly." Frauke said in a sing-song voice. "And I will drink a full bottle of Chateau Latour if that day ever comes."

"You're that confident?"Janice pressed, her curiosity piqued.

"I am because no true blue Meyer would ever be caught dead with atrocious French detritus and dross." Frauke declared with a haughty air. "We always ensure that our perfume is made here in America or in Germany, and not from that cesspit which makes my native city paradise in comparison." A dramatic sigh escaped Frauke's lips as the expatriate from The Big Apple continued her tirade. "Honestly, even if there's an intergenerational umbrage in Lancashire against Yorkshire, the Erbfiend is the real menace, France should've been razed to the ground by the Sixth Coalition back in 1814."

"What Frannie said." Valerie concurred, execrating the entire nation of France with an unexpected scowl as if she yearned for sanguinary against a hated archenemy, the literal Erbfeindschaft. "France is such an abomination, a blight on this world that I wouldn't mind if an orbiting Republic ship accidentally bombed the entire land from the English Channel to the Rhine as that would be a godsend."

"Well, there's also the Minuteman missiles and Uncle Sam could honestly use some 'target practice' before striking the Soviet Union as they're still an adversary." Frauke snickered, with Ivy and Janice looking at them speechless.

"Actually I'll have one of those galling mutts and coddle it once an actor from Yorkshire is cast to portray an Earl Grey drinking Shakespearean-obsessed Frenchman in a popular series, if it even happens in this plane of existence because that absurdity seems less likely than witnessing pigs taking to the skies with wings." Oakley declared bluntly, confidently, and sarcastically. "But Yorkshire is plagued with useless swine with the moors and all and I don't mean the yapping dogs who are no better than flea-infested squirrels."

Lance Corporal Jake Gregory Meyer - Fireteam Alpha, Second Squad, First Platoon, C/Charlie Company, Second Raider Battalion "Carlson's Raiders", Second Raider Regiment, Second Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force, United States Marine Corps

Coruscant Livestock Exchange and Exhibition -Grand Symposium, Senate Commercial District, Senate District, Galactic City, Coruscant, Coruscant System, Corusca Sector, Core Worlds, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

09:16:16 ATC /Tuesday, September 16th, 1969 - 13:25/1:25 PM

Jake sighed and felt consternation as he reflected on the unplanned military maneuvers against the Corellians and how bewilderingly it still concluded as neck and neck since the United States Marines were the best of the best but the Republic Troopers took advantage of every corridor and at times had a head start to set up defenses. The entire regimen was unfamiliar to the Leathernecks as was the training equipment and it was suspected to be the culprit as well as theorized bias on the part of the supposedly neutral training officers but despite the exercise that was more of a sham, the true test was actual combat on the two-way range and where martial prowess wasn't encumbered by being handed unfamiliar materials but using the exact weaponry and equipment they have been trained with but if they had more time to ingrain muscle memory the Marines believed they could have emerged on top.

"At least today was the last day."

The Coruscant Livestock Exchange and Exhibition was held annually at the Grand Symposium but the building was spacious enough to hold multiple conventions concurrently, significantly more than fifty in fact and that was lowball for a world with billions of inhabitants.

"Say, you guys should meet George."Milius suggested to the pair. "He's in town, well, the city at the Convention next door."

Although the Hoosier and Wyomingite still doubted the eccentric cigar-smoking man, Meyer and Ledoux still accepted the offer anyway as they needed to take their mind off of the emetic stench of Nerfs that not only made swine an exemplar of hygiene in comparison but gave them insight as to why 'nerf herder' was a popular insult. Besides, the pair were also curious in addition to needing a reprieve but Jake then noticed the banner, that the event being held inside was a Star Trek Convention with the mug of Roddenberry smirking down to the sightseers and incoming attendees.

'Of course it has to be in that wretched hive of Pinkos and Communist villainy.'

Lance Corporal John Frederick Milius - Fireteam Charlie, Second Squad, First Platoon, C/Charlie Company, Second Raider Battalion "Carlson's Raiders", Second Raider Regiment, Second Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force, United States Marine Corps

Star Trek Convention -Grand Symposium, Senate Commercial District, Senate District, Galactic City, Coruscant, Coruscant System, Corusca Sector, Core Worlds, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

09:16:16 ATC /Tuesday, September 16th, 1969 - 13:45/1:45 PM

Milius took out his cigar and smiled as he spotted the man himself, the one who was engrossed in producing a film about the exploits of Revan entitled as 'Star Wars' but to him Lucas was not some aspiring filmmaker but rather a close friend.

"George!" He roared, gaining the attention of the man wearing a plaid shirt which stood out among the spectators who were either wearing the contemporary Galactic fashion or in costumes reminiscent of Starfleet, Klingons, and Romulans ranging in authenticity from cheap offshoots and approximations to even meticulously constructed replicas that at first glance couldn't be distinguished from the originals worn by supporting actors yet minor details could still slip pass and there wasn't exactly a set standard as of the present. Still, Milius wouldn't be entirely surprised if Roddenberry was satisfied and praised the effort.

"John? Is that you?" George recognized the voice of his eccentric friend but as he spun around to greet him the aspiring director noticed the lack of facial hair. "You shaved your beard."

"So did you but we're going to grow them back after the war." Milius grinned, earning a chuckle. It wasn't like the military would let them keep the beards but after receiving their discharge it was back to normal more or less.

"I intend to regardless but at least I'm in the Air Force and you're a Marine."

"The few and the proud." John John grinned before introducing his companions. "George? These are Chris Ledoux and Jake Meyer."

"Howdy."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Lucas." Jake smiled as he shook George's hand as if the man already became a legend and earned a concrete star in Hollywood.

"Likewise, Mister Meyer."

"By the way, Mister Lucas, I heard things from John and you're alright." Jake complimented the aspiring Director. "But you honestly need to ditch the Commie."

"Sorry?"

"Forgive him, Jake is a John Bircher and he suspectsStar Trek'is Communist subversion."

"Roddenberry, that Kremlin-loving Pinko, is an unworthy benefactor for a fine mind like you." Jake insisted, the Jenner Republican and McCarthyite was surprisingly willing to give George the benefit-of-a-doubt but Gene Roddenberry was however a different story altogether.

Lucas looked like he wanted to defend his benefactor somewhat but the man himself overheard the jab and decided to question it.

"What's this about being a Pinko?" Gene asked.

"Star Trek'is subversive material."

As Jake discussed his peculiar viewpoint with Gene which of course gradually evolved into a debate, George grimaced after noticing at the corner of his eye oncoming rabble-rousers. "Oh no."

"What is it, George?" John inquired as a procession marched in and glared at the main attendees with scorn as if they were heretics or heathens that strayed from the true path.

"Lost in Spacers and Whovians..." George groaned. "It reminds me of greasers and jocks going at it as we're gazelles among lions."

"You know, we can have our chat later." Milius overheard Gene mention to Jake in regards to the developing situation. "We have bigger issues at hand."

'I have a bad feeling about this.'John determined as he recalled the information about the rival franchises.

'Lost in Space'was an American Science Fiction television series centered around the adventures of the Robinsons, a pioneering family of space colonists who struggle to survive in the depths of space then there was the British creation that John only had a vague understanding of, something about a Doctor traveling in a special phone booth and battling various monstrosities from demonic-looking aliens to apocalyptic trashcan-like robots, the two series from back home on Earth were just as popular as Star Trek and a fierce rivalry had taken hold among the Galactic fandom who became enchanted with the 'Big Three from Earth' but up to this point it was mostly just debated on Holonet even among the more entrenched contemporaries and civilized discourse at that.

It was obvious that trouble was imminent and if the intrusion by their zealous fans was not enough, the confrontations made the intention clear as the fans of the two different franchises invaded the Star Trek Convention en masse in a united front to purge the halls of the infestation which may very well include the guest of honor as prominently advertised.

"How about you take your TARDIS elsewhere, you Imp sympathizing pest." The Twi'lek with Vulcan ears snorted as he condescendingly 'analyzed' his rival with the toy Tricorder. "It is illogical for you to be here."

"Oh yeah?" The Whovian growled defiantly. "Make us, Trekkie."

"I'm telling you that Robot can make better calculations than your computers." Another voice, this one coming from some Lost in Spacer, grouched. "And besides, he walks while the ones in Star Trek are immobile."

Then the first punch was thrown and now under the circumstances Gene Roddenberry and George Lucas as well as the three United States Marines got caught in the crossfire of an interfandom melee.

Lucas grimaced and looked warily at his companion, as wrestling and kicks began occurring throughout the arena. "Ummm...I think we better go."

A Wookiee Whovian threw a plastic cup and it struck Gene in the head, the impact knocking him to the floor.

"Good idea." Roddenberry concurred as he massaged his head but the pelting only increased when the Wookiee's companion noticed the embodiment of the loathed blight was present and rushed to the nearest food stands.

"It's Roddenberry! He's right there!"

"Get him!"

Another object, this time some slimish fish, was thrown at the creator of Star Trek but the Gungan, however, missed and accidentally hit Lucas instead of the creator of the targeted franchise in question.

"Whoopsies! Soree! Mesa was aiming for Roddenberry, not Lucas!"

"Ugh."George groaned, not expecting to be pummeled due to being injured as a result of Star Trek or stink but at least it was some consolation to know that the creature did not hate him personally, just the one-and-only Gene Roddenberry as if Roddenberry was some cancer that didn't belong in this galaxy and needed to be removed.

Milius immediately reached for Roddenberry and helped him up with Ledoux assisting despite not being closeby but John was enraged when he witnessed his friend was struck as well.

"Why didn't you help him?" Chris asked Jake as he and Milius tried dodging the objects being thrown by their assailants which now included in a cruel sense of irony Star Trek memorabilia stolen from the fleeing merchants.

"Because I got George here." Meyer snapped but Ledoux was unconvinced by the excuse. "And even if he now needs a shower, I'm not leaving him!"

"I'm fine even if I'm dazed. You simply have to put one foot in front of the other and keep going." George asserted while holding his nose. "Put the blinders on and plough right ahead."

"Out of my way!" John shoved some of the brawling geeks and formed a path for the five to emerge away from peril.

Grand Symposium, Senate Commercial District, Senate District, Galactic City, Coruscant, Coruscant System, Corusca Sector, Core Worlds, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

09:16:16 ATC /Tuesday, September 16th, 1969 - 14:15 PM/2:15 PM

"I hate'Star Trek'..." Jake grumbled as he carried George splattered with the nauseating fare and evaded the inter-fandom mess occurring in the spacious room as the Spacies and Whovians alike converged on the Trekkies and began demolishing anything related to'Star Trek'. "And it's subversive messages but at least the other fans are doing a service."

Even though Jake was astonished by the entire occurrence, at the same time the Hoosier was not complaining about the act even if it was an overreaction. The fact that there were those lashing out against the subversive nature of'Star Trek'was a godsend just like how the Patriots stamped out the Hippies.

"Jake? You honestly may have a point aboutStar Trek'." Chris proclaimed as he carried a currently unconscious Roddenberry.

"I told you that it's a Phantom Menace." The Hoosier deadpanned but with a satisfied simper.

Drunkard's Vote - Senate Commercial District, Senate District, Galactic City, Coruscant, Coruscant System, Corusca Sector, Core Worlds, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

09:16:16 ATC /Tuesday, September 16th, 1969 - 17:00/5:00 PM

Ledoux and Milius as well as Meyer were at the bar, known natively and intergalactically as a cantina like the coincidental Spanish establishments back home on Earth and John mentioned that the waitresses reminded him of the camareras at the Acapulco Mexican Restaurant and Cantina in Pasadena.

The mention of California led him to recall the time after graduating from MP School at Fort Gordon in Georgia, about how he and the other newly minted 5811s were handed a piece of paper to list their preferred first duty location.

Without hesitation, he had listed Subic Bay followed by Kaneohe Bay and then his actual goal of Keflavik, a consecutive arrangement that by appearance wasn't unusual given how it was to be expected but ironically despite actually being probably the only individual in the room who sincerely did desire being sent to Iceland and not some tropical vacation hotspot or paradise, he ended up with the first choice which wasn't his preference in the slightest but it was rather an attempt of appearing to 'push his luck' only for it to astonishingly backfired.

'Funny how I was in Subic Bay before 'Nam.'

Despite in reality not being his first choice not due to aversion as he thought highly of Filipinos he earnestly yearned to be part of the Iceland Defense Force at Naval Air Station Keflavik yet his first assignment was with The Office of the Provost Marshal at Naval Base Subic Bay in the Philippine Province of Zambales. While it was quiet for the most part it wasn't all recreation as Subic Bay was a strategically important installation for operations in the Pacific. There were times when the MPs had to step in because some scuffle broke out in Olongapo with intoxicated Marines, Sailors, and the odd Soldier or Airman disturbing the peace or unauthorized entry at the garrison.

The Hoosier couldn't complain about seeing Humpback Whales out in the bay occasionally even if it was not the North Atlantic Right Whale, not to mention the lack of arctic air and snow and his time in the Philippines helped him acclimate to the jungle environment before being shipped to Vietnam and every duty assignment was ultimately at the need of the service, not the discretion of the individual serviceman but despite Iceland becoming a pipedream, after Vietnam and in time he did manage to make it to Norway during a military exercise while on Temporary Additional Duty with the 2nd Military Police Battalion.

The coverage caught his eye and brought his thoughts to the present. "Well, I can officially say that we escaped from a riot in the nick of time and relatively unscathed." Jake deadpanned as he watched the announcement on the screen. The five headed to the nearest tram as soon as possible and managed to throw off the pursuing Whovians who were the most persistent in lashing out against any semblance of'Star Trek'as well as disappointed Trekkies who missed out on meeting Roddenberry in person but at least they made it relatively unscathed without being Tarred and Feathered. "Boy, that was a close call."

The anchorman reported that the riot got so out of hand that the responding Coruscant Security Force units had to request assistance from the Republic Army as it escalated from brawling between rival parties to sporadic instances of literal arson and other avenues that just crossed the line just short of murder as astonishingly no one died amidst the chaos but even so the overall damage which spread across the twentieth floor was insurmountable and the center was wrecked with the owner still determining the exact damage to the structure as a result of that brazen and overzealous raid but regardless the cost of repairing the Grand Symposium would not be cheap.

Arson, Destruction of Property, and Trespassing yet that was not even the most drastic threat the overzealous party crashers committed:

Since Roddenberry was no longer present at the Convention Center, the enraged rioters decided to symbolically burn Roddenberry in effigy, something the executive producer of the show accepted amusedly as an honor upon learning about the deed at the hospital after being checked for a possible concussion yet Jake felt that it was a mistake to not leave someone he regarded as some naively idealistic Utopian Pinko to the wolves.

"Well, I'm now convinced that you might have a point." Chris noted. "And it seems by the sound of it that there is a substantial minority who think'Star Trek'is not compatible with this Galaxy while'Lost in Space'and'Doctor Who'somehow are."

"I can't believe that I'm saying this but if it turns out that the loathing of'Star Trek'was somehow the Will of the supposed Force the Jedi, Sith, and other like-minded institutions babble about then there may be a chance for me to believe in the Farce." Jake declared humorously. While ambivalent about the Galaxy, he still found admirable spirit about this region of space and its inhabitants with the Galactic Republic as a body - while flawed - was equivalent to the United States of America and shared common principles even if there were disagreements over trivialities.

Still, for good or for ill the nature of the varying cultures and values was as different as Uncle Sam and John Bull or Germania and Marianne.

That and other attributes actually made him eager to see'Star Wars'once it was completed and hit the theaters as to him it was a foregone conclusion that'Star Wars'was superior to Trek. He didn't even need to watch it to judge as the conversation with Lucas assured him that the venture would be successful.

"You don't say." Ledoux deadpanned but the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the man himself.

"Good evening."

"Hey, George!" John greeted. "Glad you can join us."

Lucas sat down on the nearest barstool and ordered his drink. "Meltdown please."

"It's still on the house." The bartender insisted, still reiterating the offer since their arrival.

"Thanks." Lucas accepted his Meltdown cocktail and took a sip of the 'sophisticated' beverage before querying the man sitting to his right. "Say, where are you from again, Jake?"

"From a farm near Indianapolis." The Hoosier declared simply, something which sparked another curiosity.

"Ever been to the Motor Speedway?"

"Once or twice but not annually." Jake wondered why George inquired about him watching the annual Indianapolis 500 which was one of the few excitements within proximity to a city that was otherwise best described as a rather large, quiet, and uneventful small town.

"To be perfectly honest, before I went into filmmaking I aspired to become a race car driver." George admitted before taking another taste of his drink. "I was even practicing until that fateful day when another car hit me and the collision flipped my souped-up Autobianchi Bianchina several times then crashed into a tree." Lucas recounted how lucky he was to survive. "It turned out after almost being declared dead on the scene by first responders that I only lived because the seat belt snapped and ironically if the seatbelt did as it was designed I wouldn't be sitting here next to you today."

"I'm sorry that your dream didn't pan out."

"Don't be." George shrugged. "It made me realize that racing wasn't for me and I decided to explore other interests, which is how I came into filmmaking. Say, is there anything you would've done differently if becoming a United States Marine wasn't an option?"

Jake mused and thought about what could have been for him. "Honestly, I don't know what else I would've done beyond maybe enlisting into the Army or becoming a fireman in any of the local departments." Meyer admitted. "Instead I joined the Marines and always imagined myself walking the beat with fighting flames being the backup plan."

"Wow? You of all people want to head straight into an inferno!?" Milius gawked, astonished.

"Well someone has to do it." Jake chuckled. "I'm crazy enough to be shot at, running into a fire is just another hazard."

"Excuse me, I need to use the men's room." John interrupted as he hopped out of his seat. "I'll be right back."

"By the way, speaking of which, John mentioned that you've been tense lately."

"Did he now?" Jake was unsure what to think other than the fact that from now on he was not going to confide anything to Milius as it would not remain private.

"I don't think I can do much as I'm no psychologist but I have some advice." Lucas mentioned. "The secret is not to give up hope. It's very hard not to because if you're really doing something worthwhile I think you will be pushed to the brink of hopelessness before you come through the other side."

Jake smiled and extended his hand to George, finding that there were praiseworthy qualities in his ambition, unlike his benefactor of course. "I hope your endeavor is successful, Mister Lucas."

"Good luck, Jake, and take care." George nodded. "You as well, Chris."

"It's been a pleasure." The bull rider smiled.

After seeing the aspiring director departing from the watering hole, it didn't take long for John to return only to miss his friend.

"Say, where's George?"

"He had to leave." Jake mentioned before glaring at John. "By the way, how did you manage the time to confide some personal information about me or know he was in town?"

"He gave me a number to use on a datapad."

"Of course." Jake muttered as he thought of the texting fad utilized on the finicky datapads.

George Walton Lucas, Junior

Senate Commercial District, Senate District, Galactic City, Coruscant, Coruscant System, Corusca Sector, Core Worlds, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

09:16:16 ATC /Tuesday, September 16th, 1969 - 17:20/5:20 PM

"I feel like I made a mistake." George groaned after glancing at the message he received on his datapad and he couldn't miss the 'blaster pistol' and 'skull' emojis that Milius had been using as his signature instead of typing John, Milius, his initials, or the full name. While Lucas was still getting used to the fad, he could at least discern the courtesy and the aspiring director was about to respond to John's message only to notice an advertisement sent previously as well as the one asking his whereabouts and why he didn't say bye to his friend.

Hey George, have you seen this yet? Maybe they could be used as props for shooting scenes requiring live fire.

George sighed and felt like he was about to regret 'clicking' play yet he nonetheless mustered up the courage to do so.

"New from BlastTech! A limited edition blaster pistol in recognition of the legendary Carth Onasi and engraved with the exploits of Revan's companion! Only one thousand pairs will be produced, don't wait to be on the list as they're available while supplies last! Get yours today!"

While it was epic and the suggestion wasn't terrible, George still grimaced at the thought due to an underlying yet significant flaw. Milius was a close friend but at times his judgment and even sanity were in question due to his above-average level of testosterone and the last thing Lucas needed on his plate was to increase the likelihood of having an accident occurring on set, even fatal. Sure, Blasters could be set to stun but what if the switch was on the kill setting? Special effects could fill in and it was better to be safe than sorry.

First and foremost, I would like to confirm that the title of this chapter is an intentional pun and I was also inspired by a certain comedy film calledFanboysas well as the ye olde rivalry withStar Trekof course :)

I guarantee you didn't see this coming but at the same time I also have devious tricks up my sleeves and including instances of fandom rivalry should have been realized among the readers by now especially withStar Trekbeing an intentional butt monkey here and it is only being utilized as a convenient plot element.

I mean most of the readers should have at least some awareness of the fact that Star Warshas been engaged in continuous conflict withStar Treksince the late 70s including perpetual warfare across the chatter rooms and what-if scenarios or if Captain Kirk is somehow better than Darth Vader.

In my defense this is still ultimately at the end of the day a Star Wars fanfic after all, not a crossover withStar Trekand I'm obligated to deride the inferior franchise by any means necessary.

STAR WARSstar trek

With that being said, it's not over but I have some good news, more like reassurance:

George Lucas will not be seriously harmed in any way whatsoever unlike Roddenberry ;)

Yep, it's only just the beginning of circumstantial torment for Gene Roddenberry:P But to be perfectly honest it's not just him as others like William Shatner, Patrick Stewart, René Auberjonois, and pretty much anyone else associated withStar Trekare not exempt from anything that comes their way in this tale. Also, don't say I didn't forewarn any diehard Trekkies who just happen to be reading this story ahead of time even though I didn't have to be courteous at all and there's still more to come! XD

Also, there's some extra addendum regarding Jake's experience prior to Vietnam and how he ended up in Hawaii was not by choice but by random chance as some penpusher assigned him and others to Hawaii, x number of different servicemen to whatever location there, and so on.

Now I will admit that as far as I'm aware handing out 'dream sheets' to servicemen and having them rank their 'choice of duty station' isn't always done especially during wartime obviously as servicemen are mostly told where one is heading with no room for compromise and individual experiences vary but there are apocryphal accounts where such leeway giving the Enlistedman a voice on their first assignment transpired, mostly to those with high demand Military Occupational Specialties in a peacetime setting.

Normally the first choice on a dream sheet wouldn't be granted and I'm pretty sure by now that you get the picture but stranger things had happened to military servicemen due to desk jockeys and needless to say, Jake certainly had his sights on somewhere else.

Although nowadays the United States Army Military Police School and the accompanying Marine Corps Detachment are presently both located at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri, during World War Two and into the Cold War up until after Vietnam MP training was conducted at Fort Gordon although Fort Benjamin Harrison in Lawrence, Indiana for a time did supplement Fort Gordon for MP Training during WWII, that was until Fort Benjamin Harrison was converted into a Prisoner of War Camp to intern German and Italian POWs.

It actually isn't that odd if you consider this example:

The United States Army, for instance, maintains its own diving school as their doctrine and requirements for scuba divers are different from the Navy's as for instance the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers maintains locks and dams in the continental United States and are diving in murky freshwater conditions in addition to the sea whereas Naval divers are primarily trained for oceanic and maritime conditions - in short there are two different needs but otherwise why pay for separate schools when the doctrine is relatively the same?

Despite the still obvious overlap, I'm not here to debate the military budget of the United States and the necessity of the United States Marine Corps but rather to clarify what was mentioned in this chapter.

Plus I guess it's a nice touch to have datapads be the equivalent of cell phones, huh? Sure, I know that there are holocommunicators but the Holonet exists and while it may be more accurate to describe it as more akin to EMail, regardless if it's more synonymous with email or texting, it does give the picture, especially when sharing a video based on actual ones produced by the Black Rifle Coffee Company for viewing on YouTube.

As for the accident, it's a true story: George Lucas originally did want to become a professional race car driver and if that fateful in the Summer of 1962 never occurred then it is undeniable that he wouldn't have the urge to become a filmmaker instead and we should all be grateful that Lucas survived the crash that reportedly should have killed him because otherwise the Science Fiction genre would still be nothing more than just pulp fiction and Star Wars changed not only filmmaking but a genre previously treated like a redheaded stepchild forever.

Last but not least I sincerely apologize for the delay in updating this story but at least there are now four chapters available.

Oh and Happy Thanksgiving, Happy National Cookie Day, Happy Saint Nicholas Day, Happy Bodhi Day, Happy Posadas Navidenas, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy Boxing Day, Happy Saint Stephen's Day, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy New Year everyone. :)