Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.pas.earthlink.net!elnk-nf2-pas!newsfeed.earthlink.net!wn11feed!worldnet.att.net!205.188.226.97!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m2.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 324 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 14 Oct 2004 21:54:50 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: REP Beyond Paranoia, DS9 Post-WYLB, PG13, 1/1+Bonus Message-ID: <20041014175450.24956.00003260@mb-m20.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:161071 X-Received-Date: Thu, 14 Oct 2004 14:55:15 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title : Beyond Paranoia Author : Rob Morris E-Mail : gogogojirob@aol.comendallspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9, Post-WYLB Rating : PG13 Part : 1/1 Characters : Two DS9 Faves Summary : Two dead men discuss the fate of the Federation, after the Note : A couple of Non-ST Halloween stories follow --------------------------------------------------------------------- Beyond Paranoia by Rob Morris SIX MONTHS AFTER THE END OF THE DOMINION WAR "Hi. Report." The second man nodded, after checking his sound dampener. "Not too much to say. I haven't been dead as long as you, after all. Suffice it to say that the recurring myth of Section 31 has been reintroduced. It had been so damned long since we made use of Kirk's disappearance, people had forgotten it. But now, when Starfleet Intelligence denies certain actions--that denial will be believed." The second man's face looked mock angry, as he imitated another voice. "Oh, nooo--it wasn't usssss.....it was our evil twin, Section 31!" The first man snorted. "Terrific. You know, I combed the quadrant for any Maquis remnants? Couldn't find a one. Where ARE the malcontents?" He took down a drink. "Of course, that just means we did our jobs too well. They all were drained away to the 'movement' we set up, just to see who saluted a rebel flag. God bless the ancient CIA. They started this, you know. Those militia movements? Brilliant." The second man chuckled. "Be fair. You wouldn't have had such an easy time of it, had Chakotay not gone bye-bye. Or if our stings on Picard, making him refuse future intelligence work, hadn't gone so well." "Well, of course not. But the fact remains. We used the Maquis to corner all the malcontents. We used the Maquis to weaken The Cardies. Dukat's psych-profile virtually predicted his alliance with The Dominion. The Dominion pounded the Cardies into paste. Mission nearly accomplished. Now, we just wait for the next Borg incursion, make sure that they enter Dominion space---and watch the great war really begin." "Absolutely, Mister Eddington?" "Positively, Mister Sloane." -- I've Been a-Walkin' All Night Long by Rob Morris October 31, 1952, 4077th MASH Sherman T. Potter did not care to admit defeat. He wasn't about to do it now. But he was tired. Since arriving at the 4077th in February, he had kept up with the arrogant young doctors. Earned their respect by doing so. But several weeks of on-and-off marathon surgery had taken their toll. He was desperately seeking the latrine, but kept getting turned back by people who told him it was somewhere else. Damned stupid, he thought. To not be able to find something like that. But if his bladder hadn't been about to pull a Niagara on him, he wouldn't be up and about. Unbeknownst to him, he had been wandering for a half an hour, all around the camp, more than a little dazed. Among the things that dazed him was the lad the Padre had seemingly pulled back from the grave. Potter knew what it wasn't, but it still gave him the chills this Halloween. Chills, a few drinks, exhaustion, and a full bladder. Worse than the daze he had been in that summer, on the phone. Colonel Potter's wanderings continued. In a moment, they would take him into oblivion. "Hey, yo! Colonel! Stop!" A man Potter had never seen before grabbed him. "What's the idea, pardner? I need to evacuate my-Everything!" The man looked at him calmly, as though he had not a worry in the world. "Yeah, Colonel? Well, where I come from, we do that in the Latrine, not the MINE FIELD!" Potter looked out ahead of him. In his almost blind daze, he had nearly promoted Pierce and Winchester, and given Mildred the chance to take over his workshop. Not that they would have seen it that way. "C'mon, Sherm! We types gotta stick together! I'm stuck out here most nights anyway. I'm just lucky that you could notice me tonight. At least this place is better than that sorry stretch of beach. Gets...lonely. By the by, thanks for taking such good care of Radar. I worry about him still sometimes." Potter's new friend guided him to the latrine. He heard Klinger on the outside say "Colonel?", and then run off. Sherman didn't care. He would ask his new company clerk what he wanted---tomorrow. Right now, his relief was too great. "Thank You, soooo much, friend. I'm still beat, but I'm not feelin' it like I was. I..." As Potter entered his tent, he saw that his hero had left, quite suddenly, and quite silently. The Colonel vowed to find that man and properly thank him-when he woke up. The next morning, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, feeling better than he had in ages, saw his company clerk, Maxwell Q. Klinger, staring dumbfounded at a picture. Both Colonel and Clerk saw in that picture something that put a chill down their spines. The picture was of Walter O'Reilly-Radar-and another man. "Corporal Klinger, is that man in the picture who I think it looks like ?" Potter's voice was almost trembling. "I think so, Sir." Klinger's voice WAS trembling. "Is he the fella who helped me away from the mine-field and into the latrine? The one we both saw last night, alive as you and me!?" Klinger, more than a little thrown, nodded yes, and then added: "Yes, sir. I don't pretend to know how, but I'd swear that was Colonel Blake." Halloween had given way to All Souls Day. But the touch of what happened that night would not leave Klinger's office for the duration of the war. Not then, nor later that day, when a fishing cap covered with hooks was found on the door to the officers' latrine. --- Bonus Story The Halloween Visitor by Rob Morris OCTOBER 31ST, 1967 MORNING GLORY CIRCLE WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT The mortal man answered the knock on the door. His not-so-mortal wife and her mother were away settling some business from earlier in the evening, and their daughter was asleep. "Yes. Can I help you?" The man looked very much the gentleman, and he smiled much like one. For this evening and this time and place, it is exactly who he would remain. "Yes, sir. Is this by any chance the home of Miss Samantha Endoratochter?" The man had heard his wife's maiden name so rarely, it took a moment or two to register. "Yes. Sorry. I'm her husband, Darrin Stephens. Sir--please tell me you're not a warlock." The white-grey haired, Continental-sounding man laughed mildly with a slight rasp, and nodded. "No, Mister Stephens. Not a warlock. Yet I see that Endora's family is as pleasant to in-laws as ever. Tell me, is her brother Arthur still a dolt, and her sister Clara still an angel?" Darrin gestured into his house. "Are they ever." But the man just stood there. Darrin was puzzled. "Errr...please come in." The regal man then did just that, smiling lightly. "The old courtesies are still the best, don't you think, Mister Stephens? I retain bitter memories of the sudden comings and goings of my ex-wife's family. Magi Naturum, except for Samantha and Clara, tend to have no respect for decorum, privacy, or the sanctity of a man's home. Don't you agree?" Stephens felt he had met a kindred spirit, and he had, up to a point. Learning his visitor's name, he nodded in agreement. "Its Darrin. And I could not possibly agree more. Sir, can I get you a drink?" The man pointed to a golden decanter. "That is an Elixir Omne Aster. If memory serves, it will provide the proper mead to quench the thirst of whomever it is poured for. Care to join me, Darrin?" The decanter was a concession to the reality Darrin dwelt in, a way of keeping Sam's relatives from zapping up drinks right in front of Mrs. Kravitz's binoculars. Not wishing to be rude, Darrin first poured his guest a drink, the saltiest version of that famous drink he'd ever smelled, yet the man refused the standard celery stick or ice. He then poured himself the standard double martini he would continue swilling until a futuristic doctor made entirely out of light told him flatly this would kill him. "So you're not a warlock, but you were married to Endora? I thought non-magi was a no-no, and that she and Maurice were just separated." The man sipped his drink, seemed if anything even more centered, and nodded. "Well, neither am I hu--mortal. At least, not any longer. As to the rest, 'separated' is a euphemism that Samantha and her half-sister Peggy Hayden..." Darrin raised a finger, and interrupted. "Peg Hunnicutt. She married a doctor back around 1950, and they live out on the coast, near San Francisco." His guest smiled, grateful for the update. "Thank you. In any event, separated was their euphemism for a painful situation. In fact, I remain convinced that Endora married me mainly to punish the witches' council for delaying her divorce for so very long. We lasted for a time on passion, yet that is rarely enough. Her children and mine did not get on, though my Nicholas and Samantha remain friendly enough, with time and distance helping as they always do." Darrin raised his hand. "You, sir, are a real gentleman. I can honestly say that I've never encountered a more--forgive me--normal member of Sam's extended circle. You're actually talking to me like I mattered." Perhaps any number of answers came to the mind of the visitor. But it had been a pleasant talk, and he saw no need to alter this. "I have my own differences with mortals, Darrin. But I know that Endora and hers give outsiders of any stripe little or no breathing room. So let me conclude this visit by saying that we all matter, each in his own way." He got up to leave, and Darrin shook his hand. "Listen, I can find a babysitter for Tabitha. The restaurants are open late. What say I take you to dinner? Just two non-warlocks, bemoaning our fates over steak and potatoes." "Not my meal of choice, Darrin, though your offer is most gracious. No. I merely wished to speak with Samantha about the establishing of legal identities minus the usual documents. Another time, perhaps. For myself alone, let me say that she seems to have chosen a fine man to take as her husband." "And why am I not surprised that Endora couldn't take someone as polite as you?" The man left as he had arrived, and he was gone more quickly than Darrin could account for, minus witchcraft. Outside a minute later, Darrin saw Mrs. Kravitz shaking, and pointing her finger. "Just what kind of things do you let in that house of yours? That one just up and fl---" Stephens sighed. "Mrs. Kravitz--you know what my costume is? A man telling his neighbor to mind her own business. Just this once, alright?" Looking wholly unnerved, the busybody retreated, and Darrin shook his head as he went inside. Three hours later, Samantha and Endora were horrified to hear of the visitor. Endora checked Darrin's neck. "If he dared harm you...even you, Derrwood, I swear that I'll make him into a bat for real!" Darrin had seen a lot of things in his mother-in-law's eyes. True and open concern for his well-being was a new one, though. "Sam, what's with your mother? I thought he was a man with real class. Like a blue-blood or something." The not-at-all-dumb blonde began the explanation in her usual way. "Welllll..." It would be a week before Darrin Stephens coaxed out of his wife the true nature of Lucien Lacroix. NewMessage: