Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!newsswing.news.prodigy.com!prodigy.net!newsfeed.cwix.com!border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!nntp.giganews.com!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m1.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
Lines: 250
X-Admin: news@aol.com
From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Date: 21 Dec 2004 03:13:58 GMT
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Subject: REP Infinite Paths Xmas Stories (WesC,PK/Saav, Robinsons)
Message-ID: <20041220221358.07117.00002186@mb-m10.aol.com>
Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:161639
X-Received-Date: Mon, 20 Dec 2004 19:14:08 PST (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net)

Summary : In 'The Infinite Paths' series, characters from different realities
(Characters include Wes Crusher from Starting Over, Peter and Saavik Kirk from
Ancient Destroyer, Will and Penny Robinson from First Family Of Space, and
Immortal Radar O'Reilly and six-year-old Blake Pierce (daughter of
Hawkeye&Margaret) from The Never-Ending Battle - They are pursued through
realities by Anthony Fremont, aka The Cornfield Kid from 'Twilight Zone') 

Down Through the Village 
by Rob Morris

UNKNOWN ALTERNATE EARTH, LATE DECEMBER, MID-20TH CENTURY 

As they emerged, Penny Robinson looked around and saw all the decorations. She
smiled at her brother, and for once it was a smile free of complications. 

"Will, its nearly Christmas!" 

Will Robinson nodded, and laughed to see his own breath. 

"It just never really gets cold on Alpha Centauri." 

Walter O'Reilly looked to be only twenty years old, as he always would. But the
Immortal had seen over seventy holiday seasons. 

"Gimme the West Coast, anytime. Three Christmases in Korea didn't make me like
the cold so much. But ya know? There's somethin' about snow when it comes down,
right about now. It could even make Hawkeye all misty." 

Wesley Crusher shook his head. 

"Guys, could we drop the whole Christmas routine? We each left our timelines in
the fourth quarter of the year. We're going to run into more Christmases than
not, so there's no sense getting overly sentimental about a holiday most of the
universe doesn't even celebrate. I like it, too. But how about some
perspective? Saavik, is this logical?" 

The Vulcan stared up at the sky. She smiled. 

"I once met the true Saint Nicholas." 

Crusher turned to the one true warrior of the group. 

"Peter, would you please tell them we're in the middle of a war campaign?! That
miniature psychopath-more powerful than you, by the way-- is hunting us through
every reality conceivable. As long as Anthony Fremont is out for our blood, I
think we should literally cancel Christmas." 

But the son of his era's greatest Captain was almost crying. 

"I was in Bethlehem the night it happened. I saw the star. I stopped Kronos
from reaching the Child, during the Slaughter. It was all so close. If I'd
failed, then no matter who the Child really was, evil would have been
emboldened in ways we can't even imagine." 

With Peter Kirk a lost cause, Crusher decided to do what he did best. He came
up with an idea to buy them time. Searching the town, he saw a frustrated man
leaving the local elementary school, casting something away. He smiled, took
that something, and did the hyper-quick calculations that had earned him both
praise and scorn. He walked back to his friends. 

"This archaic head-gear is perfect. Its silken threads can hold a trace of our
unique energy signatures. Fremont will be thrown off our scent, at least for
now." 

Saavik raised an eyebrow. 

"It seems expensive. Will its owner miss it?" 

Wes shook his head. 

"Its owner was a hack illusionist who was laughed out of a grade-school class.
He threw it out, and didn't look back." 

First, Crusher put the hat in permanent temporal stasis, so the energies that
followed wouldn't burn it. Walter O'Reilly placed a bit of his own Quickening
in the threads. Penny and Will placed their newfound energies in the mix.
Saavik followed. At last Peter placed the greatest portion, since the wicked
brat Anthony seemed to hate him most of all. Wes then cast the hat to the wind.


"Didn't mean to be a downer, guys. But until we destroy that monster, this is
the way we've got to think. Presents and kiddie songs aren't going to be of
help, there." 

But the leader of the group smiled. 

"Mister Crusher--do you have any idea what you just brought about?" 

Wesley then saw it, in the distance. Some children had found the top hat. 

"No. It just can't be." 

The kids all smiled. Their voice could be heard. 

*Its the magician's hat!* 

*Put it on him!* 

Crusher's eyes went as wide as the hull of the ship he once called home. For
the children had taken that old silk hat they found, and placed it upon the
head of their crude statue made of ice and snow. The awakened homunculus,
powered as he was by a mix of energies unguessable, said two words that would
stay with Wesley for the rest of his life. 

"Happy Birthday!"

--

A Miracle by Extension 
by Rob Morris

GREAT BRITAIN, 1900 

Peter had linked their various abilities to escape Anthony's latest attempt to
kill them. This had been a successful--if costly--effort. For the last two
weeks, those abilities had been gone. Except for Walter, they were all just
human. While they felt them returning, it was a slow crawl, and they were
strangers in a pre-modern-tech world. The struggle to survive and stay out of
sight was awesome. 

Few felt it worse than the pregnant Penny Robinson. Her friends and loved ones
had been giving up their food so that she would do better. It was making her
insane with grief. Will and Wesley, never what one would call fat, were almost
emaciated. While Saavik and Peter's Vulcan disciplines kept them going longer,
even they were slowing down. Blake Pierce had simply never been hungry before.
But the very worst was Walter O'Reilly---who almost did not eat at all. 

"Walter? Oh---God. Please wake up." 

The Immortal former Army Clerk just always shrugged her off, upon returning to
life. 

"Hey, No. You just worry about that baby. I'll get by alright. I allus have." 

Chores became a concern. Saavik scolded her for trying to do the simplest
thing. 

"Penny--collecting twigs and pine needles for burning is my task. Be logical." 

She grew to hate the little stretch of drainpipe access tunnel they inhabited.
She hated her friends for fussing over her even more. Peter had been working
the docks, when he could find work, that is. His insane work ethic meant he
always had hot food for her. At night, when Will did dishwashing, Peter Kirk
did not hold his wife, but Penny--at Saavik's request. 

Penny knew what it took for Peter to hold another living being besides Saavik.
Given what had happened to him as a child, he didn't even abide the touch of
his father, Captain Kirk, for very long. But he was a hero at heart, and could
not leave her cold and lonely in her state. 

"Its alright. He's coming back to you. He loves you. Then we'll get home, you
two will explain what happened between you to your parents, and everything will
be...." 

Blake Pierce had found a dark corner, and simply darted her little eyes around,
very, very afraid. 

"Father Mulcahy? Please come down from the Celestial Temple, and get me outta
here. I wanna go home." 

But the Bajoran Prophet that had assumed human form as a man named Francis did
not answer his favorite little girl. 

One morning, Will was being carried by Wes. He had a black eye. 

"Its all right, Penny. He just dropped a plate. The chef--well, he kind of lost
control and went wild on us. We won't be going back there, again." 

Her lover. Her brother---thankfully, she had recently discovered, only by
adoption. The baby she had held in her arms, just as she would hold their baby
soon. It was all too much. Silently, she prayed. 

"This child may be an abomination in your eyes, adoption or no. But if it is,
punish me! I was the older sister. I was the one who started this. These are
all good people---like I used to be. No--I take that back. I am still good. And
this is not our time or place. For pity's sake, you of all---beings---should
know what would happen if Peter and Saavik die. Please. Protect us. Especially
my Will. I love him, no matter how far wrong we've gone. Please---we need a
miracle." 

When Penny awoke, a well dressed, refined looking older gentleman stood before
her. 

"Are you Miss Penelope Robinson?" 

He was smiling, and he had a very kind face. 

"Yes. I am." 

"I see. And are you married to your stepbrother, William?" 

Close enough for good taste, thought Penny. 

"Yes, sir." 

As they all awoke, the stranger helped them one and all stand up. 

"You are Peter Claudius Kirk, and this is Saavik Brianna Kirk. My dear--you are
striking. You two---oh, to think--you will fight with an actual dragon!" 

The two champions were lost for speech. 

"Walter O'Reilly---are you fond of strong drink?" 

"Eh, no, sir. I kinda get queasy after just one beer, doncha know." 

"Good. I need a fellow teetotaler about. And I should like a look at that sword
of yours." 

The happy stranger turned and looked at Wesley. 

"To think--a man who can traverse time and space the way some men do this
single globe. How your French Captain must have envied you, Mister Crusher." 

To Blake, the man held out an exquisitely wrapped chocolate bar. She lit up, as
much from the kindness as anything else. 

"My friends, in three hours, it is Christmas Day. I insist that you spend it at
my overlarge house. The family can't come to visit this year, and I like
company. I am no fiend, and I ask only that you be gracious guests, and rest
with me until New Year's. What do you say?" 

Desperate, the group followed this man, their slowly returning abilities
confirming that he meant no harm. Wes looked at his home. 

"Hey, this is big. Sir, what do you do for a living?" 

"I, Wesley, am a money-lender. I took over the business from my father, who was
taught the business of not only profit, but keeping the community well and men
in their homes. His late employer showed him that, and to me he was as a second
father. Certain parties as helped reform him of miserly habits told me of your
plight." 

Peter Kirk felt a chill. 

"Sir, what is your name?" 

The man with the slight limp and generous nature would treat his guests well,
for the time they stayed. But his name would stay with them a great while
longer--perhaps through all of their lives. 

"My name? Oh, forgive my horrid manners. My name is Timothy Cratchit." 

A stunned Will Robinson mumbled under his breath. 

"And God Bless Us, Every One." 




NewMessage: