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DISCLAIMER: Voyagers! and its associated characters are registered trademarks of Scholastic Productions, James D. Parriott Productions, and Universal-MCA Entertainment. This story is provided for entertainment purposes only; no copyright infringement is intended by the author.
A/N: Over the summer, I took part in a collaborative effort called “The Mary Sue Experiment,” started by GS Jessica over in the Hogan’s Heroes fandom at fanfiction.net. The object of the “experiment” was to insert yourself into the story without becoming a Mary Sue. The plot device that got us into 1943 Germany was a magical time-travel device that each of us inadvertently touched while looking through a file box in the National Archives. In my last contribution, I wondered if Voyagers had to put up with the same kind of temporal disorientation my story-self did, then realized that the gizmo bore a striking resemblance to an Omni. One of the original “plotters” informed me that it actually was loosely based on that iconic device. That simple incident was what brought me back into the Voyagers fandom...and eventually inspired this little bit of pure silliness.
Smokin’ Bat’s Breath!
by
Jake Crepeau
When I finally got home, I figured my roommate was either not going to believe a word of what I told her, or she was going to be seriously torqued off that she had missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime, though there was physical evidence that would probably lead her to the latter---gunshot wounds are hard to fake, unless you’re a theatrical makeup artist, which I am not. Anyway, I got a laugh out of her by telling her that, with her luck, on touching the gizmo she would have ended up in a show she hated.
“Little Prairie Lice,” she groaned---does that tell you how much she hated “Little House on the Prairie”? “I could function there, but I wouldn’t be happy,” she added.
And she thought I had been? I’d been yanked into another time zone, scared out of my wits, shot at...did I leave anything out?
But nothing could have prepared me for what happened a couple of weeks later. I was inside folding laundry while my roommate was outside feeding the sheep. Then, suddenly, our dog started going nuts, fussing like there was no tomorrow. A moment later, Jordre poked her head inside. “Jake, c’m’ere; you have got to see this,” she said, her voice somewhere between stunned and amused. “You are not going to believe this.”
Thinking that our dog---an incredibly intelligent AmStaff---had come up with yet another way to astound us, I followed her outside, where I got the shock of my life.
The dog was shut in the garden, barking and snarling up into the big basswood tree that stood just the other side of the fence. At its base stood a boy of about twelve or thirteen, looking like he was about to fall over, he was laughing so hard. I didn’t have a clue who he was, but he was a dead ringer for Jeffrey Jones. Maybe that was what Jordre thought I wasn’t going to believe.
But then I looked up into the tree and nearly had a heart attack. There was a man up there, staring down at the dog in abject terror---he’d probably done the fastest tree-climbing act in history, and that was why the kid was laughing---and he wore the face of the other half of that unforgettable pair! I stood there, poleaxed, for a moment, looking back and forth, while, next to me, Jordre was laughing almost as hard as the kid was. Of course I wanted to think it was a coincidence, but after what I had just been through, I didn’t really believe it. If their respective outfits didn’t prove it, what I saw clipped to the man’s belt did. “Smokin’ bat’s breath!”
The kid---aw, nuts, just use his name; admit it, already!---Jeffrey stopped laughing as if someone had flipped a switch and looked up into the tree. “I thought you were the only one who said that.”
“Oh, I don’t know; I’ve heard you use it once or twice,” that familiar bass voice shot back. He finally jumped down out of the tree---very carefully aiming for the side of the fence away from the dog.
“Only because I got it from you!”
Then---well, I guess I was feeling a little giddy. Can you really blame me? I mean, twice in as many weeks?! I decided it was my turn to return the shock. “Okay, so is it red or green?”
Oh, this was priceless. The two of them looked at each other, then Bogg demanded, “What are you talking about?”
I sighed. “The Omni,” I said. “You know, V on the cover, ‘Time Waits for No Man,’ and all that.” Then I pointed right at it. “That thing.”
Jeffrey looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Are you a retired Voyager?”
“I wish!” It came out of my mouth before I even realized it. Yeah, I did wish, I realized with some surprise. Okay, yeah, I’d been scared, shot at, and all the rest, but, to realize I actually had done a Voyager’s job (sort of)...Whooo! “Besides,” I went on, “I’m hardly old enough to be a ‘retired’ anything.” Then I decided to have mercy on the poor sods----or maybe it wouldn’t be so merciful, considering Hogan’s reaction when he’d found out his adventures had been made into a TV series. “Jordre, go get my DVD, willya?”
She came back out a minute later with the boxed set in her hand and showed it to them. The two of them stared at it for a second, then both of them blurted---in perfect unison, no less---“Smokin’ bat’s breath!”
Finis