Tell It Like It Is

Post to archives is encouraged as long as my name and title stay with the story.

Author's Note: Beware of spoilers. This story is set between the episodes "A Stitch in Time" and "Dimensions." You should read my previous stories, "Hostage - Parts 1 to 4," "Ma'el: Thinker, Dreamer, Achiever," "If You Think You Know The Taelons...," "Oh, Baby!," "Adventures in Taelon-Sitting," "Last Dance," "Girls' Night Out," and "Say No More, Zo'or," before reading "Tell It Like It Is."

Please feel free to use any of my characters for your own fanfictions, but keep their name and status quo as is in "Tell It Like It Is," and please tell me so I can read your story.

Summary: Marla Evans, a relentless and superficial daytime talk show host who thrives on sensationalism and exaggeration to get ratings for her show, uses the Taelons to make her show even more controversial and over-the-top. She enlists the aid of her staff to help her “capture” guests for her show through abductions and help from an unlikely ally.

 Special thanks goes to Brown Unicorn (aka Browny) for allowing me to use her characters of Ja’an, Julie, Agent Mike Stansfield, En’ley, and Mah’rie in this story, and to Rilei for letting me use her character of Mi’Lin in this story. These characters can be found in more of Browny’s and Rilei’s stories. Please ask permission from these authors before using their characters in your stories. Also, special thanks to Cal Heighton for his creative influence which helped to develop this story.

 All of my stories take place in an EFC universe that is basically similar to that of the actual series, but with a lot of my own characters and ideas blended into it. For this reason, please remember that my story arcs and plots will not always be completely accurate with those of the other fanfiction authors whose characters I sometimes use in my own fanfiction, or of the actual series.
 
 

    * * *

    “People, can you believe it?! I hardly can!”
    The blond, buxom daytime talk show host Marla Evans gaily spun around on the set of her daily gabfest, “The Marla Evans Show.” Sprawled out on the carpeted floor of her set was a man in a plain, black bodysuit, twisting his legs up behind himself and over his shoulders. He effortlessly linked his slender arms through the openings formed by his folded-back legs, and then looped them around in a different direction a second time.
    “Let’s give it up for Mark Wilmington, the human pretzel!” yelled out Marla Evans, as she smacked her lips which were glazed with bright, crimson lipstick.
    The studio audience roared with laughter and applause. Marla wiggled her body a little bit, self-absorbed with the attention from her spectators.
    “That Marla Evans!” sneered Lili Marquette, from where she sat in the front row. “She is such a degrading sex symbol. She makes all women look bad!”
    “I think she’s hot!” Liam Kincaid put in his two-cents.
    “You would!” Lili rolled her eyes.
    “Let us not quarrel,” pleaded Da’an. The North American Companion was sitting between Sandoval and Liam in the front row, customarily reserved for VIPs.
    Da’an and his entourage were present on the set of “The Marla Evans Show” that day because Mi’Lin, the Companion to Japan, was going to be doing a cooking segment with Marla on how to prepare Japanese cuisine. Da’an had insisted that they be present to lend their support to Mi’Lin.
    Liam and Lili turned their attention back to Marla Evans and “the human pretzel.”
    “Uh . . . Marla, could you help me untwist myself?” Mark Wilmington called awkwardly.
    Marla let out a phony laugh. “When we return,” she spoke, looking at the tele-prompter and ignoring Mark, “we’ll be cooking up a tsunami with Mi’Lin, the Companion to Japan. Stay tuned!”
    They cued the theme music and broke to commercial. Unlike most daytime talk show hosts, Marla did her show live from a studio in Washington D.C.
    “Get him out of here,” she demanded to two of her gofers, indicating Mark Wilmington.
    The gofers picked up “the human pretzel” and carried him off-stage.
    “Help! I’m still stuck!” came Mark’s voice as he was carried away.
    When they returned from the commercial break, the camera zeroed in on Marla and Mi’Lin, who were wearing aprons and positioned in a kitchen set to do Mi’Lin’s cooking segment.
    “So what are you whipping up for us today, you tasty Taelon?” Marla quipped.
    “I shall prepare a specialty of mine, fugu dipped in teriyaki marinade,” explained Mi’Lin, with a smile.
    “Fugu?!” repeated Marla. “Ew! Sounds like something you’d scrape off the bottom of your foot!”
    The audience rumbled with laughter. Lili groaned.
    “No,” answered Mi’Lin seriously, missing the joke. “Fugu is a type of Japanese fish.”
    “Oh, well. You learn something new everyday,” Marla giggled, shrugging her shoulders.
    “She is such a flake!” exclaimed Lili.
    “Aw, don’t be so hard on her,” Liam interjected. “Besides, she looks great!”
    “Liam, that’s your libido talking,” Lili declared. “Besides, it’s all plastic surgery and lyposuction. I’d say that probably 75% of her body is man-made.”
    “Who made it?” Liam asked naively.
    “That’s not what I - - ,” Lili stopped and decided to give up. There was no use in trying to explain it to Liam. Ha’gel’s son still had a lot to learn about this new world he lived in.
    They turned back once again to the action on the set of the show. Marla was now attempting to use Mi’Lin’s teriyaki sauce as fingernail polish.
    Lili buried her head in her lap. “This is going to be a loooong remaining half-hour!”

    * * *

    “I want something BIG!!! We’ve got to pull out all the stops! It’s sweeps month, boys!!!”
    Marla Evans was reclining back on a plush, fancy settee in her dressing room. She was ordering around two of the show’s newest interns.
    “Ms. Evans, what exactly do you want us to do?” one of the interns asked.
    “I don’t know! Do something! Find me a freak to put in the hot seat! Go capture an alien . . . or better yet, find out how those Taelons reproduce.”
    At that moment, Marla’s agent, Anita LaQuicksilver, sauntered into the dressing room as she spoke into a cellular phone.
    “I told you, Marla doesn’t do talk shows!” Anita screamed into the cell-phone. She slammed the antenna back into the phone and rolled her eyes. “That Larry King! He is SO annoying! I’ll tell him what he can do with his scrawny interviews . . .”
    “Like I want to be on ‘Larry King Live’ anyway,” yawned Marla, laying her head back. “He is so old, and so boring. It is such a mystery why millions of people watch his show. They should be watching MY show!”
    “Am I missing something here?” the other intern piped up. “You turned down an interview with Larry King?!”
    “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” Marla snapped at her subordinate.
    “No, you didn’t.”
    “Well I’m telling you now. Shut up!!”
    “So what’s on the agenda for this afternoon’s show?” interrupted Anita.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” sighed Marla, apathetically. “These goons need to go out and find me something juicy.”
    “You mean you haven’t even picked a topic for today’s show yet?!” Anita LaQuicksilver interrogated her client.
    “I’ll probably do make-up tips or something. I don’t know. Go fetch me a hot potato. Anita, go with them. I need to take my beauty nap now.”
    “What if we can’t find anything?” one of the interns asked.
    “Then you’re all fired.” Marla waved them away with her hand. “Now scat. I must rest for today’s show. It takes a lot of energy to hold that microphone.”
    Marla rolled over and began to snooze.
    “Come on!” Anita pulled the two interns out by their ears.
    Soon the three of them were cruising the streets of D.C. looking for something fascinating to bring back to Marla. As they drove past Bawden Park, a unique sight caught Anita’s eye.
    “Stop!” she commanded to the driver.
    They gasped at the figures who were stationed peacefully in the city park. There was En’ley, a Taelon/human hybrid who wore the appearance of a human female with some distinct Taelon features. Next to En’ley was her husband, Mike Stansfield. Mike was one of Da’an’s implants. En’ley was holding Mah’rie, her and Mike’s daughter, on her lap. Finally, Da’an’s grandchild, Ja’an, and Ja’an’s human friend, a blind girl named Julie, who both lived at the D.C. embassy, were playing on the ground beneath a red maple tree.
    “Nab them!” ordered Anita. “As soon as the implant leaves their side. Joe, you grab the freaky mother and her freaky baby. Noel, you take the blind girl. I’ll get the little alien.”
    Mike left his wife and daughter for a moment to go get a drink of water. As Mike headed over to the park water bubbler to get a drink, Marla’s cronies made their move. Armed with gunny sacks, Noel and Joe covered Julie, En’ley, and Mah’rie with their sacks. Kicking and crying out with muffled screams, En’ley, Julie, and Mah’rie felt themselves being dragged away in the gunny sacks. With her gunny sack, Anita scooped up Ja’an and hauled him away, as well.
    By now, Mike had taken notice. Anita, Joe, and Noel had already loaded their hostages in the company van and were speeding off. Mike aimed his skrill at the van and fired, but it was too late. They were already gone.

    * * *

    En’ley held Mah’rie close to her. They were seated on the set of “The Marla Evans Show” along with Ja’an and Julie.
    “So,” spat out Marla, sticking her microphone in En’ley’s face, “tell us exactly what type of . . . creature you are!”
    En’ley could only stare at the cameras, her eyes filled with fear. “Please . . . d - don’t hurt my child,” she stammered.
    “Aw, we wouldn’t do that!” Marla gushed. She put on a big, perky grin and circulated over to Ja’an. “Obviously, you, young man, are a Taelon. Tell us a little big about your homeworld.”
    Ja’an pouted, and then answered Marla in the hope of shutting her up. “It is very nice. A great world.”
    “Well then,” Marla suddenly whirled around dramatically, and verbally jumped on Ja’an like a predator attacking its prey, “explain to us about your secret Taelon agenda! Why is your species really on Earth? What do you want from us?!”
    “We are here to help,” Ja’an replied meekly.
    “Very cryptic,” observed Marla. “But WHO are you here to help? Our human race - - or yourselves?”
    Ja’an glared at Marla Evans. “Both!”
    “Oh, really?!”
    “Yes, and that is all I am allowed to say!” Ja’an had had enough.
    “Leave him alone!” piped up Julie.
    “Ah, yes, we can’t forget you, little girl,” taunted Marla, making her way to where Julie sat at the end of the panel. “Now I’ve heard through the grapevine that you have psychic abilities?”
    Julie rebelliously kept her mouth shut tight.
    “So on what date is the world going to end? Are the Taelons here to kill us?”
    “I will not tell you anything!” Julie screamed at Marla. “I don’t like you! You have kidnapped me and my friends! I will never tell you! Do you hear me?! Never! N-E-V-E-R!”
    Marla laughed. “Isn’t she cute?!” she directed at the audience.
    In response, the audience laughed, hooted, whooped, and hollered.

    * * *

    “Major Kincaid, there is something here that you may want to see,” Da’an called to his protector.
    Liam came over to Da’an, who was watching television via his data stream monitor. The Companion was watching “The Marla Evans Show” and pointed to the monitor.
    “It’s En’ley!” gasped Liam. “And Ja’an! And Julie! And Mah’rie!”
    “I would like to know how my grandchild suddenly appeared on a television show,” pouted Da’an.
    Mike rushed into the audience chamber, panting and gasping for breath. “It’s En’ley and Mah’rie! They’ve been kidnapped!”
    “Ja’an and Julie, as well,” Da’an completed the thought.
    “Yes. How did you know?” Mike asked.
    Da’an closed his eyes. Ja’an was calling out to his grandparent. He was calling for help.
    “They’re on TV,” Liam pointed to the data stream.
    Mike looked baffled when he saw his wife and daughter on the stage of “The Marla Evans Show.”
    “I am so negligent!” Mike smacked his head. “How could I have been so careless to leave them alone for even a moment?!”
    “Do not cause yourself to suffer, Agent Stansfield,” Da’an spoke to Mike in a soothing voice. “You did not know what would happen. Go with Major Kincaid to the studio and retrieve them.”
    Liam and Mike took the shuttle over to the studio building where “The Marla Evans Show” was broadcast from. They passed through security by showing proof that they were Companion agents, and interrupted the live telecast.
    “En’ley!” Mike yelled out, as he and Liam dashed into the studio.
    “Mike!” shouted En’ley. Mike hopped up onto the stage and wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter.
    Major Kincaid kneeled down next to Ja’an and Julie. “Are you two all right?”
    “Yes, Liam,” Ja’an replied, hugging Major Kincaid. “I am so relieved that you and Mike found us.”
    Julie smiled, knowing that Mike and Liam were there.
    “Aw, isn’t this sweet?” cooed Marla Evans, standing in front of her guests. “A heartfelt reunion between Companion agents and their loved ones.”
    On cue, the audience gushed, “Awwwwwww!”
    But Mike wasn’t pleased at all. “You were responsible for this, weren’t you?” he challenged Marla, giving her an intimidating poke. “How dare you have my wife and daughter, not to mention these other two innocent kids, abducted!”
    “Oh, lighten up!” winked Marla, slapping Mike on the back.
    “No, I will not ‘lighten up’! This isn’t funny!” Mike was steaming. “Is this just some game to you, Ms. Evans? You can’t just go around plucking innocent people off the street and force them to be on your show!”
    “Yeah!” chimed in Liam, standing up and marching over to Marla. Then, Liam turned to face the cameras and flashed a big, toothy grin and waved. “Hello, America! Hi, Da’an!”
    Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head at Liam.

    * * *

    “And now it’s time for . . . Marla’s Tabloid-reading Club!”
    Marla had just announced a new segment of her show. She was dressed in a gorgeous bathrobe, sitting around a “kitchen table” on the set of her show along with Mi’Lin, who’d returned as a guest due to popular demand, and three other random audience members. Mi’Lin and the three audience members at the table were also wearing bathrobes. Actually, Mi’Lin’s bathrobe was styled like a Japanese kimono.
    On the table was a huge collection of various tabloids, scattered in a messy pile. Mi’Lin had picked up one of the magazines and began flipping through it.
    “Well, it’s time for plenty of banter and chatter during this weekly segment of ours,” rambled Marla. “So let’s have some enlightening discussion about this outstanding literature. Why don’t we start with Mi’Lin?” She looked straight at the Japanese Companion. “What has caught your attention in the tabloids today, Mi’Lin?”
    “Let me see,” Mi’Lin spoke, turning the page of the magazine he was cradling. “Well, I am quite intrigued by this captivating picture of President Thompson’s butt.”
    The audience chuckled with uncontrollable laughter.
    “Very cute . . . considering he’s an aging bureaucrat!” quipped Marla.
    Mi’Lin continued to examine the tabloid he was holding. “You humans certainly have some odd forms of entertainment.”
    “Oh, look,” noticed Marla, showing a picture from her tabloid to the camera. “This article reports how our President Thompson was abducted by aliens. And Mi’Lin, you’ll be interested in this. Reportedly, he was brought to the Taelon mothership.”
    “How queer,” remarked Mi’Lin.
    “And look at this one . . .” began Marla.
    But suddenly a voice from the control booth was heard.
    “Uh, Marla,” the control booth person informed her. “You’ll never believe who’s on our phone line.”
    “Who?” Marla asked.
    “President Thompson.”
    The audience gasped.
    “Oh, how lovely of him to call me,” blushed Marla. “And during sweeps month of all times! Put him on speaker-phone.”
    “Hello?” came President Thompson’s voice.
    “Hiya, Mr. President. How’s life in the White House?”
    “Fine,” the president answered, preoccupied. “Ms. Evans, I must say, as chief executive of the United States, I cannot believe that you produce such trash to be put on our airwaves!”
    “Oh, really?” frowned Marla.
    “Absolutely! You are a disgrace to the morals upheld by this great country of ours! Honestly, making comments about my . . . rear end, and spreading rumors that I was abducted by aliens! And kidnapping a couple of our Taelon friends, a stunt which I believe you pulled yesterday, Ms. Evans! How low can you get? Can’t you find something more productive to do on your show?”
    “Let me ask you something, Mr. President,” chided Marla Evans. “If you hate my show so much, then why do you watch it?”
    “I DO NOT watch your show!” insisted President Thompson.
    “Really?! Then how did you know about all the stuff you just repeated that we discussed here live on the air a few moments ago?” Marla challenged.
    “I - -, I - -,” President Thompson stuttered indignantly. “You bad woman! I hate you!”
    President Thompson slammed down his phone in the Oval Office. He hastily clicked off “The Marla Evans Show” from his television set, and dropped his remote control to the floor.
    “I’m switching to Oprah!” he grumbled.

    * * *

    “Go! Get me a really hot story! I mean sizzlin’ hot! So hot that I can wax my legs in it!”
    Marla practically booted Anita, Joe, and Noel out of her dressing room.
    “Come on,” murmured Anita, “let’s go find Little Miss Daytime another impromptu discovery.”
    Anita LaQuicksilver and the two interns were driving down the highway when they had to stop for a red light.
    At the same time, Augur pulled up in the next lane in his car. On the backseat was his Hegawud/human niece, Hegawita. The “Humawud” child peeked her head up against the car window.
    Noel caught site of Hegawita. “Hey, look!” he pointed at her. “It’s a lobster with stringy black hair and human eyes!”
    “We’ve hit the jackpot!” exclaimed Anita. “Capture it!”
    Joe took an umbrella from the van, opened the side door, approached Augur’s car, and smashed the car window. He grabbed Hegawita, and in retaliation, she pinched Joe’s hands with her claws. Joe yelled in pain, but tossed Hegawita into the backseat of their van. Anita slammed her foot down on the accelerator and they swerved through the red light and zoomed down the highway.
    “Hey, come back here!” Augur shouted after them.
    But they were long gone. Soon, the trio brought Hegawita to the studio and she was forced onto the stage. Marla began that day’s show.
    “Have you ever run across a really weird animal?” Marla asked the audience. “An odd creature that is somehow a total fluke? Well today, we’ll be showcasing weird animals. Here is our first one. The world’s foremost cross between a lobster and a shaggy human.”
    Marla stepped aside and gestured to Hegawita. The audience gasped in awe.
    “I am not a lobster!” protested Hegawita.
    “Then what are you?” Marla probed.
    “None of your business!” screamed Hegawita. With that, the hybrid child clamped her pinchers down on Marla’s hand and squeezed tightly.
    “Auuuuuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

    * * *

    “This stuff’s funnier than hell!” cackled Jonathan Doors, as he watched “The Marla Evans Show” on a TV set from down in the Resistance headquarters. “No more Jerry Springer for me. I’m sticking with this gal.”
    “What’s it about?” Dr. Melissa Park joined Doors.
    “I don’t know. Mutated animals, I think,” mumbled Doors.
    “Hey, isn’t that Augur’s niece?” asked Dr. Park, pointing out Hegawita on the screen.
    “Well, I’ll be damned!” exclaimed Doors.
    Meanwhile, back in the studio, Marla Evans continued to grill Hegawita.
    “So do you live in the sea?” inquired the talk show host. “Do you need water to survive? Obviously not, since you’re here and breathing right now.”
    “I WANNA GO BACK TO MY UNCLE AUGUR!!” shrieked Hegawita.
    Suddenly . . . POOF! Out of nowhere, Diana VanKirk appeared on the set of “The Marla Evans Show.”
    “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!” grunted Diana.
    “Who are you?!” Marla demanded.
    “I’m your worst nightmare!” Diana said. “But you can call me Diana. Because that’s my name!” She laughed psychotically.
    “You should know then,” Marla informed Diana, “that you’re live on TV right now. The entire nation is watching you.”
    “Like I care!” Diana bulged out her eyes. Then she scooped up Hegawita into her arms and disappeared with her into thin air.
    “Hey!” shouted Marla, vexed that Diana had taken her guest away. Marla faced the camera and laughed light-heartedly. “When we return from commercial, we’ll meet the world’s first simian/mollusk hybrid . . . half octopus, half chimpanzee . . .”

    * * *

    Augur madly clicked away on his computer keyboard in his apartment.
    “Oh, sweetheart!” called Holo-Lili from her cylinder-like screen. Augur’s hologram was dressed as Dolly Parton, complete with a curly blond wig, a sequined cowgirl outfit, a Southern accent, and other sizable bodily features.
    “What?!” barked Augur, as he frantically searched the Internet for any information on where Hegawita may have been taken to.
    “Can I help you at all?” drawled Holo-Lili, giving her body a little shake.
    “I’m afraid not. Unless you can do a scan of worldwide computer databanks, for some sign of Hegawita.”
    “Sure thing, honey!” Holo-Lili swung a lasso around above her head and began performing an AutoScan.
    “My contacts all over the world should be able to tell me something!” Augur mumbled. “Hegawita better not be up for sale on the black market . . .”
    In the blink of an eye, Diana appeared in Augur’s apartment, holding Hegawita.
    “I believe this creature belongs to you!” Diana rumbled, extending the Humawud child to her uncle.
    “Hegawita!” Augur embraced his niece. “You’re safe! I was so worried that something had happened to you!” He looked at Diana. “How did you ever find her? And how can I repay you?”
    “Marla Evans kidnapped your niece,” Diana divulged. “I went to her studio and brought Hegawita back for you!”
    “Thank you,” Augur stammered. “What can I do to show my appreciation?”
    “You don’t have to do anything, Augur. I like making trouble!” Diana cackled.
    “Uh . . . how did you know my name?”
    “I know everything!” With that, Diana disappeared.
    Now Augur was really confused. But he decided not to ask questions and just be grateful that Hegawita was safe.
    “Augur, sweetiepie!” called Holo-Lili. “Shall I abort the AutoScan?”
    “Yes, Holo-Lili.” Augur’s eyes twinkled. “Or should I say, Holo-Dolly?”

    * * *

    “I can’t ever have a successful show!” whined Marla Evans, laying back on her office settee. “Even though my ratings are through the roof.”
    Before she knew what hit her, Marla saw Diana VanKirk, who had magically appeared in her dressing room.
    “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!” Diana grunted.
    “Who are you?! What are you doing in here?!” Marla hurled a pillow at Diana. “Get out!”
    Diana made the pillow freeze in mid-air. Marla gasped.
    “Fine, I’ll leave,” said Diana, breathing deep. “But I guess that means that you don’t want to hear about Zo’or’s little moon colony.”
    “Moon colony?! Wait a minute!” Marla held up her finger. “What are you talking about? Tell me! Will this help my ratings?”
    “Yes!” Diana gleamed mischievously. “But first you have to trick Zo’or into coming on your show. Here’s the address of someone who can help you.” Diana cackled and handed Marla a piece of folded-up paper with an address and telephone number written on it. “Now, I’ll tell you all about Zo’or’s experiments on humanity . . .”

    * * *

    Zo’or was socializing with a handful of Taelon diplomats at a reception being held in his former New York City embassy. The new Companion to the United Nations, Go’el, had invited Zo’or.
    Before long, a messenger arrived at Go’el’s embassy.
    “Telegram for Zo’or, the Synod speaker,” announced the messenger.
    Go’el took the telegram and came over to Zo’or with it. “Zo’or, this message arrived for you,” Go’el informed him.
    Zo’or unfolded the telegram and read it. “Ah, what delightful news. ‘The Marla Evans Show’ has requested that I make an appearance next week.” Zo’or grinned deviously. “This will present a perfect opportunity for me to deceive the mere humans into thinking that I am their friend.”
    “What shall I tell the show, Zo’or?” Sandoval asked the Taelon, helpfully.
    Zo’or shoved the telegram into Sandoval’s hands. “Tell them that I will make the appearance. Put forth the illusion that I am looking forward to it.”
    “As you wish, Zo’or,” agreed Sandoval, bowing.

    * * *

    “Please welcome,” Marla introduced, “the Synod speaker . . . Zo’or!”
    The audience applauded enthusiastically as Zo’or walked out on “The Marla Evans Show” set. He nodded politely at the crowd.
    “Thank you for being here, Zo’or. Please have a seat.” Marla gestured to a cushy armchair. Zo’or sat. “So tell us, what’s it like being Synod speaker?”
    “It is a tremendous responsibility,” stated Zo’or. “I must oversee all business that the Synod attends to, and speak for what we believe is in humanity’s best interest.”
    “Well then,” challenged Marla, “how do you explain . . . your secret moon colony where you experiment on humans who are abducted through your inter-dimensional portals?!”
    The audience gasped.
    “I have no idea what you are talking about!” Zo’or lied, indignantly. “No such place exists!”
    “Oh really?!” sneered Marla. “Well, I have someone here who would disagree with you, Zo’or! Mystery guest, come on out!”
    Suddenly, Sarah Boone stomped out onto the stage, a furious glare plastered on her face. She had been watching Zo’or’s interview on a TV from inside the green room.
    “What are you doing here?!” demanded Zo’or.
    “You liar!” Sarah marched right up to Zo’or and put her face inches away from his. “How dare you come on national TV and deny your involvement with YOUR portal project! Diana told me all about it! Do you realize what pain you’ve put me through???!!!!”
    Zo’or promptly gave Sarah Boone “The Hand” and looked away from her. “Talk to ‘The Hand’, girlfriend!” Zo’or yelled at her.
    Sarah Boone gave Zo’or a fierce shove, and the Synod speaker fell right out of the armchair, tumbling to the floor.
    Turning to face the studio audience, Sarah began her rant. “I recently found out that when traveling through the Taelon portals, I was actually sedated and transported to a facility on the moon where Zo’or instructed his scientists to impregnate me with an unknown baby creature. Later, during another trip, Zo’or brought me back to his moon colony and aborted the fetus. At the time, I knew nothing about this. I thought I’d had a miscarriage!”
    “These allegations are completely false!” protested Zo’or.
    But the audience was booing and hissing at the Synod speaker.
    “Admit it, Zo’or!” hollered Marla. “You are a bald-headed freak of nature! I’ll bet you were a test tube baby!”
    “I don’t have to take this!” hollered Zo’or, blushing blue. He walked right off the set.
    “Come back here, Zo’or, you coward!” Sarah shouted after him. “Take your medicine like a Taelon!”
    On his way toward the studio exit, Zo’or brushed past Liam, who was standing by where the audience was.
    “Having fun, Zo’or?” chuckled Liam.
    “You were behind this, Major Kincaid!” accused Zo’or. “You were responsible for setting up this scheme. You also conspired with Pha’ra against me in Egypt! How dare you! You are out to ruin me!”
    “Not today, I wasn’t!” Liam protested.
    “Revenge will soon be mine!” threatened Zo’or. “I’ll get you, Liam Kincaid . . . and your little shakarava too!”
    Zo’or briskly flounced away.
    “That’s not fair!” Liam called after Zo’or. “I wasn’t even involved with setting you up . . . this time!”

    * * *

    FIN
 
 

Copyright 1999 by Earthboy
Gene Roddenberry's Earth: Final Conflict is property of Tribune Entertainment Company and is produced by Roddenberry/Kirshner Productions. No monetary profit is being made from this work. No infringement is intended. If you sue me, I will start a petition to get Jonas McCord hired back onto the show (yes, that is a threat).