Scribe rubbed her hands together happily. "This is cool. She has a low tolerence for sub-perfect physical and intellectucal specimens. Between The Cat, Dave, and especially Rimmer, she should be Jello brained in a matter of days. A fate worse than death." She patted Janeway on the shoulder. "That was worthy of Strife." Everyone in the room shh-ed her, fingers to lips. She blinked. "Damn, sounds like I got caught in a V fiction. What gives?"

Tom looked around nervously. "You don't want to mention his name too loudly. He has a way of getting around. We highly suspect that he masquerades here under the name of Q."

She nodded. "Yeah. Crossovers can be a bitch, and that sounds very likely. So, which way is off this space-bucket?"

Chakotay put an arm around her shoulders. "Before you go anywhere you need to center yourself." His hand slid down and around. "I can help you get in touch with your spiritual side."

She slapped his hand. "That's not my spiritual side you're groping. Don't try to pull that smooth bullshit with me, buddy." Her eyes narrowed. "Considering your previous experience, I'm surprised you didn't scam your way into head of security."

"What does she mean by that?" Janeway asked.

Chakotay was flushing. "Nothing."

Scribe snorted. "Help 'em protect their valuables?"

Now Tom looked interested. "Yeah, come to think of it, there was a flyer shoved under my door a while back about having my security code reset by an expert. What up with that?"

Scribe struck a pose, elbow in hand and said in a bright, false voice, "How much would it cost to have handcuffs set in the wall? You know, as a decorating motif?"

Tom started fanning himself. "I... um, don't have any handcuffs, but I've got some nice leather straps."

"I was quoting." She pointed at Chakotay. "Sound familiar... Raoul?" Chakotay hid his face in his hands. Scribe looked at the others. "Eating Raoul. Cult movie, early eighties." She shook her finger at him accusingly. "You turned people into dog food!"

"Only shallow characters who were disposable anyway," he protested.

"He was helping Paul and Mary Bland off swingers for their dough. Made the mistake of falling for Mary."

"Yes?" Janeway looked interested. "What happened?"

"He got eaten."

Tom shrugged. "Big deal. He gets eaten on a regular basis around here."

"No, I mean as in with fava beans and a nice chianti. Speaking of which, how can you be here if...?"

"It was a previous incarnation. Very handy things."

"Captain."

Janeway operated her com-link. "Yes?"

"You'd better get to the bridge. We're being approached by another ship."

"On my way. Who is this, by the way?"

"Well, in the credits I'd be listed as Crew Member One. Oops! Better make it the docking bay instead. Another one just showed up, and they've both launched shuttles."

As Janeway started toward the door, Scribe followed. "Maybe I can hitch a ride back to... to... Oh, wherever the hell."

Paris followed. "We can't get back to earth, what makes you think you can?"

Scribe rolled her eyes, and put on her booming, super heroine voice. "Because I'm Superauthor! Faster than a speeding fan boy, more powerful than a raging plot bunny, able to leap tall censorship barriers with a single snippet. Yes, Superauthor, disguised as mild mannered Scribe Mozelle, I..." Paris collapsed in laughter. "Yeah, I know, I know."

There were two shuttles in the shuttle bay, two very different types of shuttles, but the doors slid open at the same time. Both of the men who exited the seperate ships were blonde, both were handsome, both were wearing leather, but as different as the shuttles. The one on the left was a bit smaller, and looked impishly cocky. The one on the right was a lot bigger, and his cockiness had a touch of near arrogance. She looked at Chakotay. "Explain something to me: how is it that every other spaceman wears leather, but you never see a cow in space?" He shrugged.

Scribe looked between the two, frowning. "Oh, shit. Not the double-double bit again." She looked at the man on the left. "I don't suppose that Madman Murdoch piloted that thing, huh, Face?"

A charming grin. "You can call me whatever you like, sweetheart. I usually go by Starbuck, but Face will work fine."

"Uh huh." She looked at the spaceman on the right. "I suppose I can't expect to see Ioalaus or, say Joxer or Ares come out of that thing behind you?" He shook his head. "Okay, you're not Hercules. Who are you?"

"Dylan Hunt."

She frowned. "Damn, two fandoms I'm not all that familiar with. Battlestar Galactica was too long ago, and Andromeda is too recent. My cable has been out, and I haven't had a chance to get acquainted with it. All I know of it is what I've read in the fan fiction. Okay, I need information. Exactly how horny are you guys?"

Starbuck shrugged. "I do pretty good. There aren't many of us humans left, you know, so we're encouraged to breed."

Dylan growled, "I'm stuck onboard with three women: one hologram, one lavender, and one who acts like she has almost as much testosterone as I do. Other than that there's a smart ass Irishman and a hulking genetic snob, and I don't swing that way in this section of the fan fiction universe. What do you think?"

"R-i-g-h-t. Six of one, a half-dozen of the other. Maybe I'd be better off hanging here for awhile."

A voice came over the intercome. "Captain Janeway?"

"Yes, B'elana?"

"Is the scuttlebutt true? Scribe is onboard?"

"Yes, she is."

"Is she with you?"

"Yes."

*GRRRRROOOOOWWWWLLLL!*

"B'elana?"

Crewman One's voice came on again. "She just raced out of the room, Captain."

Scribe groaned. "Cripes, that was a Klingon mating growl. Well, that tears it--I have to get out of here, now. I'd do eenie, meanie, miney, moe, but I don't think I could deal with having the Three Stooges run out here and try to molest me." She clapped her hands. "All right, space studs! C'mon down where I can get a better look at you, so I can make an informed choice."

The two men strutted down their respective ramps. She twirled a finger. "Pose, y'all. Remember, I've seen everything this universe has to offer, so you'd better sell it."

Dylan and Starbuck obliged, preening and posing. Scribe started clapping and singing, "Ahm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it huuurts!"

She knew her fanfiction characters well--they couldn't resist. Dylan and Starbuck started stripping. It was a complicated process, given all the leather and hidden fastenings. The crew of the Voyager were getting into it. Some of them started looking for their personal handheld computers to transfer some credits, since they didn't have any physical money to stuff in their pants. Since everyone was preoccupied, Scribe didn't have any problem strolling up one of the ramps.

The dancing and clapping came to an end as B'elana appeared in the doorway and roared, "What the hell are you people doing, letting her get that close to a shuttle?"

Scribe was standing in the shuttle door. "Gee whiz, willikers, I wonder what this button does?" She punched the large button near the door, and the shuttle door slid shut.

From outside she heard someone say, "No problem. She doesn't know how to drive one of those."

"Oh, people," she shook her head as she sat at the control panel. "You should know me better than that by now." She started pushing buttons, flipping switches, and turning dials till the engine started rumbling.

Outside the crew looked at each other. Janeway said, "Well, we just won't open the shuttle bay door."

Paris sighed. "She really is out of it. Run!" They made it out of the bay and shut the doors just as Scribe gunned it and smashed through the doors.

"Off I go, into the wild blue yonder..." she warbled. She took a look at the viewscreen. "Wild black yonder? Whatever. Now, let's see... Where to? Oh well, why am I worried? The main character always ends up somewhere." She sat back for a little while. Soon she was twiddling her thumbs. "In space, no one can hear you yawn.

The ship started to shake. Whoa! What now? Something had appeared in front of the ship. It was sort of like the Generic Interdimensional Time and Space Portal back at Ares's temple, but those are blue, this is black, and... and... We're being sucked into it! Everything is being sucked into it! A cow flew past, disappearing into the swirl. Holy crap! Either they do have cows in space, or I just did a mini-crossover with TWISTER. An ugly woman on a broom swooped past, cackling, to slip into the swirl. Or the Wizard of Oz. Oh, squick! Munchkins and flying monkeys! She shuddered. They always creeped me out.

As she was drawn inexorably closer, she suddenly realized what this was. Good lord! It's not a Time and Space portal, and it's not a black hole! It's something much more insidious and dangerous. It's... it's... As the shuttle was sucked in, she screamed, "A PLOT HOLE!"

Divider approved by Scribe

The shuttle suddenly appeared, popping into existence in a clear, blue sky (yeah, I know that it should have appeared in space, but this is fanfiction). It streaked straight into an equally blue ocean, and ended up bobbing on the waves. Scribe opened the door and scoped the situation. "A pristine beach." She looked toward the heavens and said loudly, "Too bad I can't swim well." The waves tossed the ship to within wading distance of the shore. "How convenient."

Scribe hopped out and waded to the beach. She plopped down on the warm, white sand, closing her eyes. "Oh, well, back were I started." She heaved a sigh.

*plop*

A muscular masculine body landed on top of her. "Oof! Crap!"

"Hi, sweetie."

Scribe frowned, then reached up and carefully felt the butt of the body on top of her. "Xander?"

*smooch* "Welcome back." *hump* "I missed you."

She opened her eyes and gave him a big kiss. "Boy, it's nice to get back to an all American, garden variety, boy next door vampire slayer after all the space jocks." She looked around. "Where's Fox?"

"I had to throw him to the castaways to get them off of me. When last seen he was up a coconut tree, surrounded by Gilligan, the Skipper, and Mr. Howell. The Professor was busy inventing something to help them climb up after him. But don't worry. While I was sneaking away some green eyed dude was swimming toward shore, yelling at them to go find their own toys."

Scribe nodded, "Alex will kick their butts, but if he's on the island I'd better try to get off. I avoided him through all three sections of the last proverb, and he may be a little pissed."

"We're not on the island anymore. We're in Hawaii."

"What? How did you manage that?"

"Well, while the castaways were preoccupied a speedboat came into the lagoon, and I swam out to it. There was this really, really fine guy with a moustache driving it, and he gave me a lift back to Hawaii." Xander shook his head. "He wore a shirt almost as funky as some of mine."

"Let me guess... he was a detective?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" Scribe rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he said he was considering taking a job as an entertainment reporter back in the states. Something about a chance to cover the Oscars when this hot new actor went up for an award for his role as a gay soldier."

"Fascinating. Lemme up, Xand." *hump* "C'mon." *humphump* "Xander, sand!"

"Crap." He got off of her. "Frankie and Annette never worried about that in the beach movies."

"Annette wore a bathing suit that nothing could penetrate--ask Frankie. Oo, wait a minute... Annette and Candy, the fringe girl. It would explain why Frankie never got more than a chaste hug and a closed-mouth kiss." A plot bunny popped up out of the sand, nipped her sharply on the ankle, then dived back down it's burrow. She sighed. "I'm going to have a month's worth of fics to work off before I get out of here. Let's book."

Xander followed her. "Speaking of that, I've been dodging some guy named Dano for the last couple of hours..."