The BLTS Archive - Musefic Tenth in the 1000 Raps series --- Spoilers: Two Days and Two Nights Comments: if anyone would like to borrow any of these aliens, go right ahead. note: This takes place as part of the series, since the characters' reference points are based upon it; yet it is not a true member of the fic series. --- As we open the story to read it, Malcolm and Hoshi are feeding each other ice cream (since Hoshi's allergic to grapes), Porthos is talking to his lawyer on the phone, and Phlox is reading a dictionary (since nobody ever explains what 'friend' means). Trip Tucker, on the other hands, is polishing a Glock. "How did you get that thing past the weapons--and metal--detectors when we left Earth?" Hoshi asks, the ice cream dribbling onto Malcolm's shirt. "Lovely," Malcolm mutters. "This's going to be a Wet T-Shirt Story before page 3." In a conversational voice, before The Author can reply that The Author has never written a W.T-S. story before (and thus wouldn't mind practicing), Malcolm says, "For that matter, how'd you get that kind of a gun past the censors." Trip shrugged for the sake of shrugging. "Hoshi, did you hear something?" he asked, instead of politely replying with 'because it wasn't as prohibited a weapon as a G-String.' "I thought a capital G meant 'gravity'," said Liz Cutler, who was wondering when her name'd been abbreviated. Trip shrugged again since his contract didn't say he couldn't shrug as often as he wanted to. "Whatever," he said. "Anyway, I brought this," correctly anticipating the upcoming question, and thus sparing The Author several excess paragraphs of conversation, "because I like old-fashioned ways of gettting rid of rivals when I'm pressing my suit." "I didn't know that Enterprise had a dry cleaners," said Travis, who was here because Shi_Shi2525 likes him, and since he didn't know if he would be in the rest of the story. "In fact, I didn't know there was anything other than the Bridge--and that one planet we visited recently." "You're forgetting the ice-teroid you and I built a snowman on," Malcolm said, trying not to dribble any ice cream onto Hoshi's T-Shirt...particularly since this was a fictional room filled with other men. "Hard to get more old-fashioned," Hoshi said, her reply having been written before Travis' entry into the story, "than rolling a boulder off a cliff." Trip writes that down, grinning maniacally, and runs out of the room. "Thank you, my dear," Malcolm mutters, "for giving him that idea." Since Hoshi is a written character, she knows that Malcolm was using sarcasm. "Oh sure, this coming from the guy who's only flippant when I'm either unconcious or learning I'm pregnant?!!?" "To be fair," Phlox said, himself puzzled as to when his rank had been dropped, "that has taken up a considerable amount of the stories thus far." In retaliation, Hoshi threw a Coconut Cream Pie that just happened to be in one hand at the time. Dr. Phlox ducked, and the pie struck Captain Archer in the face, asphixiating him. Porthos looked over from the phone. "I guess his contract ran out a mite prematurely," and resumed talking on the phone. "Look, Bob, you're my lawyer, right? So you're supposed to be able to help me with this--I don't CARE if it's copywritten!" Hoshi, who hadn't been paying attention to anything since throwing the pie & thus ridding herself of a commanding officer, said "Hey, Mr. Author (despite RE:s and FB:s to the contrary), when do I just get a nice, quiet, relaxing day by myself??" "Right Now," sayeth The Author... It was a nice day. A quiet day. Hoshi was by herself, alone, alone, all all alone. She was alone on a wide, wide sea. And for all that she was relaxed, Hoshi knew that no saint would take pity on-- "I didn't mean I wanted an outtake of 'Rhine Of The Ancient Mariner'!" Hoshi exclaimed & explained, since she wasn't sure which descriptive to use. "At least you didn't have anything chasing you," Rygel said, visiting from http://www.purepilot.com and the FaDoPi there (friends & defenders of Pilot). "Like rabid fans. Or worse." "There's something worse than fans?" Hoshi asked, curious despite herself. Literally. "Bad movies," said Crow from MST3K (mystery science theater 3000), the tv series. "The tale of the Ancient Mariner wouldn't be too far off," said Malcolm, who heard only what Hoshi said. Malcolm had been forbidden to do voice-overs ever since it'd been discovered that this particular ficverse's M.Reed had a tendancy to think such thoughts that The Author's blood sugar levels rose to dangerous levels...and The Author feared negative reactions from any diabetic readers. Malcolm continued, having patiently waited through that explanation. "This entire fic series started off after our Author read a poster for the movie SOLARIS which asked 'How Far Would You Go For A Second Chance?'..." and then Malcolm realized that he'd been abused--used to deliver an infodump by The Author, who Himself was grinning. "I wonder..." said Hoshi, mostly to lead into the next story fragment... category: AU (what if, malcolm hadn't convinced himself to go on Enterprise with Hoshi?) --- Hoshi rolled over in bed, looking at her lo^er with doe eyes (not that there was anything wrong with her normal ones, or to imply that she was a faun--that's another ficverse's tale). She was willing to ignore the tendancy of The Author's keyboard to reverse some Vs into ^s. Trip opened his eyes, having fallen asleep after being sure that his love, Hoshi, had been satisfied in their coita| bliss. He didn't mention that she seemed to have had some prior love-making experience, and he didn't mention it because he was a good gentleman--and a Southerner to boot. As one fanfic enjoyed by The Author had said, that beckoned thoughts of leather and lace...'bad ensign'. "TRIP!!" the muses hollered, having realized only too late that Trip had run, not into the Spare Bunks door, but into the StoryWriting door. "I'll go in and get him," Malcolm offered. "Don't give The Author a chance to work on a slash story," Hoshi said to him. "Don't worry," Malcolm said. "I'll club Mr. Tucker, and--" "BDSM," said Liz, grateful for another line, however short. She was still trying to figure out where the Elgin Marbles were. "Oh," Malcolm said, and sat back down--despite having not been explicitly mentioned when he'd gotten up. "Don't look at me," Porthos said. "I'm not going in there!" He was, after all, only a puppy...despite having been on the Enterprise for over a season. Wasn't that more than a year? And here, dear and gentle readers, is where The Author ends this story...for The Author has just seen SOLARIS, and gotten an idea on how to continue the series. "What about the Greys?" asks Thor from the _Stargate SG-1_ universe. "You promised to write a story with them in a novel position." "In time, all things shall be," pronounces The Author, using the non-linguistic application of 'pronounces'...like 'the king pronounced a new law'. To both the right and left of the missing piece, there were undamaged images carved into the stone. "Humanoid," Hoshi said, being very generous with the application of the word. "Mostly," Elizabeth agreed. There was a peace of sorts between them, though there was no certainty of how long it would (live/last). "You think the Commander identified them correctly?" "As 'chupacabras'?" Malcolm asked. "If Commander Tucker did, then that would mean that this particular species has been to Earth within the last few centuries." He paused. "That's a firestorm I'd rather not see." Hoshi nodded. "Vulcan vs the Contactetees." The word, a phonetic slurring of 'Contact E T,' had become something of a nasty slur--particularly in light of certain Vulcan statements made after the Vulcans had contacted Earth: "'We find no evidence that your planet has been host to extraterrestrial cultures'," Cutler said, quoting one Vulcan of eighty-five years ago. "And if we find evidence to the contrary..." she left it at that. Hoshi hummed a few bars of the theme to Spielburg's Close Encounters Of The Third King, and saw Elizabeth wince. She saw Malcolm lean closer to the screen, examining something; (she gave his butt a cursory glance before) asking "See somthing?" "Who are you to end this story??" Trip demands to know, to spice the tale with some conflict. "I Am The Author, your God!" "oh," sayeth the muses, who hushed up. --- The End