Act IX - Endgame

From the personal logs of Jon Souza:

	Click.

	"Ok, what happened?"

	"I saw a harmonic shift in the metal elements-about four hundred
psyches into the positive factor."

	"Damn, that shouldn't have happened.  It should have been a 
six hundred psyche shift in the water elements.  Hold on, I'll reset the
naga, and we'll try the next harmonics."

	Scrape.  Click.  Click.

	"Now what?"

	"Six hundre psyche shift...."

	"That's good."

	"In the wood elements."

	"Nani?" I asked.  We'd been at this for the last two hours, pushing
and pulling Naga components as Ivanova told me what was going on. "Excuse
my Japanese, I meant to say, 'Fuck!'  This thing isn't responding how it
should normally.  Now, considering how the time harmoincs are screwed with
this thing, I can understand, but this isn't right!"

	"Why can't you just blow this thing up?" Ivanova asked.  "Seems like
that would be a lot easier than messing with this thing."

	"Because," I replied, "The Naga exists outside of our time harmonic-
I can't destroy it because it's not a 'real' object to beings like us. What
we have here is a virtual object that acts like the real one to us.  I can't
destroy it, but I can manipulate it.  It's a problem of Effect and Cause."

	"Don't you mean Cause and Effect?" Ivanova asked.

	"No, Effect and Cause," I replied.  "We already have Effect-all
of the multi-dimentional madness that's going on.  We still have to figure
out Cause-the Naga reactor is a part of the Cause, but not all of it. So,
we've got a lot more manipulation to do, and two days to figure it all
otu in."  I floated down a level, and started to slide a portion of the 
Naga reactor.  "Ok, what happened?"

	"Positive fifty psyche shift in the air elements," Ivanvoa 
replied.

	"Excellent!  Now we're getting somewhere," I said.  "That
is exactly what should have happened.  Now, I'll reset it, and we'll
see what else is right about this thing."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

	Meanwhile, somewhere in Babylon 5, a battle was going on.
Chris Halladay, former Malevolent Deity of the Tenth Pranic Element
of the Nine-Headed Naga Dharma Quotation, was screaming at the top
of his lungs something.

	What was drowning out his voice was the attacks of Susano
Orabanos, God of Destruction.  Oddly, Susano paused, and said, "What
did you say?"

	"I said that I'm not the Malevolent Deity anymore!  Something stole
my powers!" Chris yelled.

	Susano stopped, looked at him, then said, "Ok.  I knew."

	"For the love of God, you knew and you kept trying to kill me!"
Chris screamed again.

	"No, I was only faking the attempt. Had I wanted to kill you, you
would have been dead.  This attack was merely a diversion," Susano shrugged.
"Now, I've got some work to do.  If you'll excuse me...."

	Susano shrugged, looked around, straightened some of the furnature,
then walked out the hole in the wall he made.  Chirs looked around, shrugged,
then sat down.

	The chair collapsed, sprawing him to the floor.  

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

	Meanwhile, on another part of the station, Adversary looked at
the Doctor, and said, "Susano realized that Chris wasn't me.  I don't
know what's going on now-he's moving out of my sphere of probability,
but if he suspects that I'm here...."

	"It took him that long?" the Doctor asked.  "I'm suprised that
he still isn't fighting your trick."

	"Susano is actually very smart-he just doesn't use his brains that
much because he's a supercharged deity capable of blowing up planets,"
Adversary replied.  "Now that he's thinking, he's even more dangerous.
And if he doesn't think that I've reformed...."

	"Well, we'll have a talk with him, won't we?" The Doctor replied,
looking to find something to play in the upcoming concert.

	Adversary looked at the Doctor, and said, chasing after him, "Do you
know how God-dammned annoying that is...."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

	Somewhere on Babylon 5, a mirror seemed to lose it's reflection
for a second.

	But just for a second.

	From the mirror, a oddly spry boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen,
with long platium blonde hair, pointed long ears, and a goofy sort of 
smile, popped out.  He looked around, and said, "Well, it's nice to see
that humans have gotten this smart and...hello!"

	He looked at a wall, and said, "So, Goliath and friends are here!
Hm, this should prove to be interesting."

	A second later, the boy, invisible, popped up behind the four
Garogyles, watching them walk down the hallway.  "Nice to see that
he's keeping in shape, but his choice of company...." and the boy looked
down at the two shadows, "....could be better."  Then, something hit him.
"Wait a minute-when they left Avalon, there were only three Gargoyles,
and that human detective-Eliza."

	He flew up in front of them, still invisible, and looked hard.
"Wait a minute....how did she go back to being a Gargoyle again?  I don't
make mistakes like that!  She should have remained human ever since I put
her back to normal, until the time was right!"  The boy froze time for
a second, to make a more detailed examination.  "Ah, now I get it."

	After the boy flew down a small side hallway, he became visable,
and yelled, "ASCOTT!"

	A second later, Ascott appeared, shocked.  "Oh, what the...., Oh.
Hi, Puck, what is it...."

	Puck instantly hauled Ascott up to face him, and lifted him a bit
off the ground, so the two were face to face.  "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

	"Oh.  That.  Now I get it!  You were the one who changed her before,
wasn't it?  I just thought she'd like to be changed back into a Gargoyle 
and..." Ascott said, but Puck started to shake him.

	"It's too soon!  It is not her time yet!  You got your timing off
again!  Now, I'm going to have to fix her before something goes wrong 
and...." Puck said, dropping him, then walking away.

	"I only changed her two hours ago," Ascott replied.  "She's not
of changling blood, Puck.  If you change her again too soon, the shock
will kill her.  It's only a day, then you can fix her back."

	"Damn you," Puck said.  "The only reason why I'm not going to 
punish you is because Oberon is here-and we are not on speaking terms
as of late."

	"Well, you did save that human child from him," Ascott shrugged.
"But he's being kept watched by someone who's got enough of a hold over
him to delay him.  Did you know that Oberon's Bell is here?"

	"No, I didn't," Puck replied.  He stroked his chin.  "Hm....
maybe I should find it.  Especially to give our dear Lord of Avalon
a lession in humility...."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 It was rather crowded behind the store front; nineteen people, at
the last count, including Shadows. After delivering his announcement,
Thor was standing, looking as impressive as he could manage which,
considering the thunderbolts crashing about him, was pretty darn
impressive.
 "We can probably dive past him," Sinclair was saying, "and get some
people to safety."
 "Yes," Thomas agreed, "but we'll need a distraction. Whoever it is
will doubtless be killed instantly, but that's the way it goes."
 There was a long, drawn-out pause.
 Slowly, every eye turned to Commander Morley's red starfleet
uniform. He blanched.
 "Oh, nonono. Just, just wait a moment...."
 A moment later, Commander Morley was standing directly in front of
Thor, while dozens of people took this opportunity to escape.
 "And WHO," Thor boomed, "are you, little man?"
 "Commander Thomas Morley, Starfleet." He tried to strike a dramatic
pose, but his heart wasn't in it.
 "Oh? And WHY are you standing in front of me, trying to look big?"
 "Ah. Well, I think I'm supposed to be stopping you, actually."
 "Are you?" Thor laughed. "Go on!"
 "No, really, I am," the Commander replied, beginning to get into
the role.
 "What're you armed with?"
 Uh-oh...rather close to home, that one. He decided on a delaying
tactic.
 "Guess."
 There was a long pause.
 "Guess?"

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 The group, now down to eighteen, left the Zocalo with a few
civilians; the Sheridans and the Garibaldi immediately dived back in
to rescue more hapless souls. Thomas looked questioningly at
Sinclair.
 "Not my station anymore," Sinclair said in reply. "I'm the Earth
Ambassador to Minbar." He paused, obviously thinking back to Thor,
God of Thunder. "And I plan to stay that way. Much safer."
 Thomas nodded, then turned and looked distastefully at the actors.
 "You lot, get outta here. You can't help, and I don't want the
responsibility of keeping you safe. Go on, go bite a tree or
something."
 Glaring in his direction, the actors left.
 "That was a bit harsh, wasn't it?" Sinclair asked.
 "But necessary," Thomas replied. "They need to be kept away from
danger. Without them, none of this would exist."
 "Hrm," Sinclair replied, non-commitally.
 They entered the elevator. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't
have been large enough to hold all of them. But these were not
normal circumstances.
 "Core Shuttle," Thomas instructed.

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 "Hmm. Magical Hammer of Total Obliteration?"
 "Nope."
 "No, no, too obvious I suppose. 'Ow about an Ashnod Ring?"
 "What's that?"
 "One of these!"
 Thor held his hand aloft; on it was a silver ring. Sparks leapt
from it occasionally. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning connected it
with a storefront, which promptly exploded.
 "No, not one of those," Commander Morley replied.
 "Good, though, isn't it?"
 "Very good."
 "Er...wot about...."
 "No, you're thinking along the wrong lines. You're forgetting about
something fairly basic in the relationship between men."
 "Oh, I know it, I know it, I've seen 'em, er...."
 "Just think. They left me, an ordinary human, to stop you, a giant
rampaging god who can throw thunderbolts. What do you think they'd
give me to defend myself?"
 "Oooh, er, something pretty damn devastating I should expect."
 "Expect. Oh, yes, expect. I tell you what they gave me, shall I?
Nothing!"
 "Wot?"
 "Nothing at all. Not a Magic sausage."
 "Well! Doesn't that just take the biscuit."
 He was interrupted by the arrival of Susano, who was discovering
that the walls round here were so thin, it only took a tiny tap with
his hammer to knock them down. He proceeded across the Zocalo in a
roughly straight line, passing close to Thor's position. Any sane
mortal would have kept out of his way, but Thor wasn't mortal.
 Let's face it, he wasn't sane, either.
 "Oy, you! Pugface!"
 Susano dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The hand happened to
glance against Thor's face.
 Thor came to a few moments later, embedded two feet into the far
wall of the Zocalo, Commander Morley leaning over him.
 "Well!" he groaned. "Doesn't that just take the biscuit."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 Getting off the Core Shuttle in Brown sector, the group of eleven
took a lift to the secret location of the auditorium. A few
corridors away, Thomas took Bob, Charlie and Artoo aside to make
some arrangements, then they approached the room.
 Thomas opened the door, and stuck his head in.
 "Hi!"
 Zephyr looked up. "You! Give me the key of Avalon!"
 Thomas shook his head.
 "I've told you, if we open the gate too early, the consequences
could be catastophic; we must be patient."
 "No, the longer we delay, the greater the risk that it will all be
lost!"
 Two steel Golems surreptitiously edged toward the entrance. Thomas
glanced at them.
 "Call your servants off. I don't have the key; it's hidden, and you
won't find it until the time is right. I came here to make a couple
of deliveries."
 He tossed her the grey sphere. She examined it carefully.
 "Ought I ask?"
 "It's a working model of reality, without exceptions. You'll need
something to work from, when reconstructing this universe. Joe will
provide the broad outline, this'll fill in the gaps."
 "Joe?" she replied, uncomprehendingly.
 "Never mind. The other delivery is these two droids."
 "What do they play?"
 "Nothing, but I think they'll be useful anyway. You might be able
to link Artoo up to a synthesizer, I guess."
 "Thanks a bunch."
 "Whoo-whee-bweep."
 "Artoo, such language!" Threepio interjected. "I do apologise for
him, Mistress Zephyr. He just hasn't been the same since that
dratted ice planet...."
 Thomas pulled back and let the door close. He turned to Charlie and
Bob.
 "Well, did you get it?" he asked.
 In reply, Bob held up a metal bell and clanger, with some highly
recogniseable markings on them.
 "The Bell..." Amanda said in some surprise.
 "Yes," Thomas replied, "and a very useful tool." He paused. "Come. 
I think, perhaps we should pay Oberon a visit."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 "This game is going on rather long, is it not?" Oberon inquired.
 The Old Man only smiled.
 "You're sure we're using the normal system?" Oberon confirmed.
 "But of course," the Old Man replied, subtly moving his arm to
conceal the five dimensions he had just added, "just plain Chess."
 There was silence for a few moves.
 "How long do I have to go on playing this stupid game, anyway?"
Oberon asked.
 "Not much longer. I expect someone will be visiting us soon."
 "The sooner, the better, I say...."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

From the personal logs of Jon Souza:

	Click.  "What happened now?"

	"Positive twenty psyche change in the wood elements," Ivanova
said.

	Scrape.  Click.  Click.  "What now?" I asked.

	"Come up here," Ivanova said.  I peered over the rim of the
altar, to see Susan Ivanova in a sailor suit, white with green trim,
and cut in just the right way for one of the Salior Senshi.  And, 
assuming what I saw was cannon, the Sailor Senshi didn't wear panties
under that skimpy miniskirt.  "What happened?"  Ivanova asked, and
I prayed she wasn't thinking that I was looking where I was looking.

	"Evidently, an impartial shift," I replied, trying not to think
of the various potentials of such a thing, erotic included.  "As long
as you feel no particular need to yell, 'Sailor Venus Power!-Make Up!',
we should be fine.  Excuse me...."

	I went back and replaced everything.  When I peered up, Ivanova
was back in her armor again.  "Back to abnormal," I said.  "Now, I've
got to watch that one, just to be safe.  Ok, I've got some of the core
harmonics down-now, we've got to move to the next ring of nagas.  Watch
out, I'm pulling a big one...."

	There was a loud SCREECH! and a fried muppet fell to the floor.
"Hold on a second," and I floated down to it.  The lab coat was singed,
the carrot-red hair was toasted, and it was weakly going "Meep, meep,"
"Don't worry!  It was just a muppet!"

	"Ah, there you are," another muppet replied.  "Excuse my assistant
Beaker, he was testing out one of my new inventions when it backfired.  Now,
if you'll excuse me...." as Beaker and Dr. Bunsen Honeydew walked out of
the room.

	"That's odd," Ivanova said.  "And, I've got this weird urge to strike
a dramatic, yet angst-ridden pose all of a sudden."

	I flew back up, and Susan Ivanova was in a Knight Sabers hardsuit.
Not just anyone's hardsuit, but Priss' Hardsuit.  "Well, it could be worse,"
I said.

	"How can it get worse?" Ivanova asked.  Hopefully, she'd ignore
the helmet, and the very big needle gun that the hardsuit had in it's right
arm, "It seems like you're immune."

	"Not really," I replied.  "But, I can't show you, because this is
a PG rated Round Robin, not an NC-17 one.  I think I should put that piece
back-before we get Mihoshi here and muck this whole mess up."

	"This is nuts, you realize that," Ivanova said.

	"Well, you don't have to worry about a bubbleheaded Galactic
Police officer whom is the biggest example of the Fourth Law of
Thermodynamics," I said.  I slid back the naga piece, and everything,
including certian....ahem....anatomical modifications, went back
to normal.

	"Oh," Ivanvoa replied.  Then she asked, "What the hell is the
Fourth Law of Thermodynamics?"

	"'Where Mihoshi is-Chaos Reigns,'" I replied.  "Now, I'm going
to try a very small piece...."

	Squeak.  I looked at Ivanova, and she said, "Nothing odd has 
happened yet."

	I pulled out another piece.  I looked up again, and Ivanova was
in skin-tight black leather, a longsword in her right hand.  "I think
that was something odd," I said.

	"Good," Ivanova replied, a little angry.  "Fix it."

	Only 36 hours to go....

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

	Susano Orabano was not having a good day.

	After figuring out how weak the walls of this station were,
he decided that, rather than risk damage to them(and the even more
fragile inhabitants), he would shift himself slightly out of phase
and move through the walls.  But that took so much time, so he took
the walls that he could spare and just blasted through them.

	When he hit(proverbially) the Zocallo, he never expected
to encounter two things.

        Thomas Morley, and early.

	And Thor, the God of Thunder.

	Unfortunatly for Thor, the writer who brought him in used
the classical Norse version of him, rather than the (significantly)
smarter version that was in Marvel comics.  So, he made the
mistake of insulting Susano.  "Oy, you!  Pugface!"

	So, Susano backhanded him.  With the sleeve of his gauntlet,
Susano Orabanos threw Thor at least half-way down the Zocallo, 
turing him into a divot in the wall.  As Thomas gloated over Thor,
Susano looked at him, and said, "You're Thomas Morley, right?"

	"Yes, I am," Thomas replied, a little confused.

	"You're lucky-if you were wearing a Classic Trek redshirt,
you'd be dead by now-and forgotten in the next act.  Since that's
a New Trek Uniform, you're safe," Susano replied.  He then took
a deep look at his conversation partner.  "You aren't the real
Thomas Morley, are you?  I can feel it in my hair."

	"Well, that gets into tatutology and...."

	"I'll take that as a yes.  If I can find the real Thomas
Morley, I have a message to deliver to him.  And fairly urgently,
damnit, I'm getting paid by the hour, with overtime.  Not that
I really need it," Susano shrugged.  "But any pay is worth it."

	"I heard he was heading to the Core Shuttle.  What's the
message, I can always relay it to him," Thomas replied.

	"Nope, this one's a personal delivery.  Hey, make sure
he doesn't cause any more trouble, eh?" Susano asked.

	"How am I expected to do that!" Thomas yelled.  "I'm not
some God, you know."

	"Well, we can solve that one."  Susano replied.  He reached 
behind his back, and drew a massive, rune encrusted broadsword.  "Here,
use this.  The enchantments work against most mid-level mythaological
beings, and the runes are cold iron, which will effect Seelie and
Unseelie fey."

	The broadsword, in Thomas' hands, was utterly massless and
weightless.  It seems as insubstancial as smoke, until he tested
the blade on a nearby table.

	A single tap turned the table into two symmetrical pieces
of ceramic.  "Jesus!" Thomas said.

	"Oh," and Susano tossed him the scabbard-encrusted with 
runes and made from the hide of a dragon, "just in case you need
it as well.  Nothing special, but it will keep the sword from
cutting through things like floors, trees, people.  That sort
of thing.  Now, I've got to be going...."

	As Susano walked off, Thomas looked at Thor, then at
the sword, and said, in the most convincing voice he could, "Don't
move...."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 "Rook to Queen's Rook/Pawn/Bishknight 4,231."
 "Bishqueen to King's Knight/Bishop/Pawn 2,187. Check."
 "Are you sure?"
 "Oh, quite sure. Not Mate, though. You can still move your king
along the 45th parallel to Rook's Bishrook 15."
 "I must say," Oberon considered, "I usually find it a lot easier
than this to visualise the board; for some reason, it's more
difficult this time. It *is* a normal, eight-by-eight board, is it
not?"
 "Certainly," the Old Man lied with the ease that comes from many
years of long practice.

 Oberon was releived when the door finally opened. *At last, I can
be free of this accursed place.* He gazed from within the mirror at
the doorway. However, the entrants were not precisely what he had
expected.
 Five Gargoyles. Two...black things. Two humans. One of the humans...
 "You!" He shouted, alarmed.
 "Me?" Thomas asked innocently, keeping the Gargoyles between them.
 "Yes, you, you [unprintable], [unprintable] son of a [censored]!
There is no way you are getting these keys!"
 "It seems," Thomas said quietly, ignoring Oberon's shouting, "that
I've done something to upset you. As I've never met you before, this
seems strange."
 "You [unprintable] mongoose-[censored]! You [unprintable], pug-ugly
[unprintable] [censored]! I'd melt these keys before I'd give them
to you!"

 Beginning to tire of endless tirade of obscenity, Thomas subtly
extracted a small ship's bell, and tapped it once with a clanger.
Oberon yelped in agony.
 "Why you..."
 The obscenities increased in vehemence.
 "Now will you give me the keys?"
 "Never in a milleni-aarrrrghhhhhh!" he screamed in agony as the
bell was tapped again.
 "Now, you will give me the keys, or your wife will soon be weeping
over your grave."

 Sinclair watched all of this impassively. He had arrived on Babylon
5 (by some as-yet-unexplained means) a few hours ago, and, of
necessity, had already begun to acclimatize himself to the situation.
This pushed even his limits, however. And...was that some kind of
chess board, in the corner? He tried to angle his head, but could
still make no sense of it.
 He was distracted by a set of keys flinging themselves across the
room.

 Oberon watched as that, that, that [censored] picked up the keys,
and turned to leave the room.
 "Hey," he called, "what about me?"
 Thomas half-turned, then glanced over to the old man. "Could you
oblige?"
 The old man nodded, picked up the mirror and smashed it against the
floor. Thus freed, he returned to Avalon.
 Upon arrival, he found that his wife was not there. Inquiring, he
discovered she had already left, searching for him. She had gone to
some strange, backwater universe...didn't remember the origin code,
offhand.
 Oberon sighed, sat down, and tried to relax.

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 Thomas, Sinclair and the two Shadows (who, for some reason,
Sinclair reacted badly to) wandered along the corridor. Thomas had
already released the Gargoyles, with his blessing, and was now in
an in-depth conversation with Sparky.
 "...So, the modifications are complete?"
 "Sure, fella! You can use it whenever you want. Oh, and I've just
added a couple of extra items..."
 "NO!"
 "What? Not even the triple-super-deluxe..."
 "Get rid of them."
 "What, even the Sunroof?"
 "SPARKY!"
 "Okay, okay! Sheesh...."
 "I'm unhappy with that computer..." Sinclair began, but Thomas held
up a hand to cut him off. He guided the group over to a nearby bay.
 They entered. Thomas sealed the bay door manually, then adjusted
several switches beside the door. A few moments passed before he
spoke up.
 "Sparky, lights low."
 Nothing happened.
 "Good," he continued, "we can talk in private. You were saying?"
 "I was saying I'm not happy with that AI system. We tried it when
the station went operational, and to be honest, its a hunk of junk
with more personality problems than the entire Osmond family."
 "I agree, but there's very little we can do. You know how long it
takes to shut him down, and that's solid work inside the computer's
main systems."
 "I know, I know."
 "How did he get activated in the first place?"
 There was a long pause.
 "Lets not get into that."
 "Well, either way, if we can't shut him down normally, we may have
to wipe the program."
 Thomas agreed.

 Outside the glass door of the docking bay, unnoticed by its
occupants, a monitoring camera hovered. It focused on one mouth,
then the other, then back. Recording. Analysing. Calculating.
 And learning.

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 Bester struggled against the bag he was trapped in. He could detect
no humans nearby, but then, he had detected no-one in the Zocalo,
either. Suddenly, he realised that if he was motionless, he could
hear voices, real, not telepathic; very faint voices:
 "Duh, what're we gonna do wiv 'im, Brainy?"
 "Quiet, Pinky, I'm cogitating."
 There was a short silence, then:
 "Surely it's obvious, Pinky. We use him to take over the world!"

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 After the disappearence of the first Man in Black, Mulder and
Scully had noticed another; this one was short, balding, and wore
all-over black with grey edging. They had been unable to get a look
at his face, so Mulder had gone on ahead to try and snatch a glimpse
of it. Scully kept in contact over their mobile phone (which,
amazingly, still work....)
 "Okay, Mulder, he's taking a left...then a right...he should be
heading straight for you.
 "Can you see him? He should be just in front of you...next to the
grey guys, in purple and green costumes...yeah, the ones that're
fighting. Do you see him?...."
 She paused to listen.
 "You mean, for the last hour and a half, we've been following...
Bruce Willis?"

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
 
 "Initiating pre-flight check," Thomas announced. "Hey, Sparky, all
the modifications in place, as I asked?"
 "Yes."
 Pause.
 "Yes? That's not like you, Sparky."
 Silence.
 Thomas sighed. "As soon as I've left, transmit the message to Jon.
Tell him where I'm going."
 "Fine."
 Thomas sighed again.
 The StarFury moved into launch position. The depressurised wall of
the bay caved in, and a figure stepped through.
 Susano, God of War.
 He had a scroll in his hand.
 He tossed the scroll through the cockpit of the 'fury. Strangely,
the glass seemed unaffected.
 "A message," Susano said simply.
 "Who from?" Thomas asked.
 "Urd, Goddess of love," He replied, and left the way he had come.
 Thomas unrolled the scroll. It was covered in strange symbols.
 *Klingon?* he realised. *An odd choice for the Goddess of Love....*
 A blinking light informed him that launch was imminent.
 *Oh well, I'll translate it on the journey. Shouldn't take more
than ten minutes.*
 "Launching...."
 And it was away.

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

From the personal logs of Jon Souza:

	Susan Ivanova kept looking at me.  "Oh, no.  No more.  In the last
day, I've had my gender swapped five times...."

	"I don't think that being a hermaphrodite counts as a gender," I
said, but Ivanova gave me a look, and that shut me up.

	"Five times!  And I've been in everything from the buff to a
wedding dress!  And you've been no help!" Ivanova kept on yelling.

	"Me?" I hissed.  "If you haven't noticed, I did save you from
that Masu creature!  And I've been two different women, three different
men, and a hermaphrodite five times!  And we know a lot more about this
naga that we did know a day ago."

	"Ok, what do we know?" Ivanova asked.

	"First," I said, summoning up a table, pizza and soda, "we'll eat,
I'll talk as we eat."

	As Ivanova dug into the pizza, I said, "What we have here is nine
seperate nagas with four different dharma quotation bindings to all of them,
assembled in a multi-dimentional nexis.  The total number of combinations is
two hundred thousand, sixty-two thousand, one hundred and fourty four; and 
we've got to figure out the assembly pattern of all of them."

	"How many do we got so far?" she said.

	"Fifty thousand, and wipe the corner of your mouth, you've got
pizza sauce," I replied.  "With that much, we can create a virutal model,
and that's why we've got to finish the manipulations."

	"Wait a minute," Ivanova asked, "if we can create a model, why the
hell are we still working on this thing?"

	"Because I need to make one final manipuation to check the core
naga components-it's the center of the entire dharma quotation network,"
I noted.  "When we're done, we'll get to that."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Continuing the personal logs of Jon Souza:

	After our snack, Ivanova got to the top of the naga, and I went
to manipulate the final pieces.  As I did, the next thing I heard was
a "Oh dear God!!!!  Ah, ah, ah!!!!" from Ivanova.

	In a panic, I flew up to the top, to see Ivanova's hand at her
crotch, trying to pull something off.... "Oh, yes!  Yes!  Yes!" she 
screamed, in ectascy.  I managed to toss her hands away from her crotch,
to reveal some odd kind of panties that seemed to almost be grafted to
her skin.  It was humming and vibrating like crazy, and I found the access
port to get at the unit's CPU.

	The panties were, evidently, some kind of superadvanced sex toy-
keyed into the user's hormonal and emotional readings, it was desgined
to please it's user whenever the user got bored.  And, the unit was
on like mad.  The tension-skin binding this thing used made it so that
I could either leave it on or rip it and the skin it was on off.  I
quickly read the naga components, then pushed the pieces back.  Ivanvoa
was panting, looking both amused and shocked.  "I think it was getting
more intellegent-it decided to remove you as a threat," I said.

	"What the fuck was that?" Ivanova asked.

	"A sex toy.  A very advanced sex toy.  And, I'd better grab one
to take home for my girlfriend-Lord knows, when she get's that, she'll 
love me for the rest of my life...." I said, then looked at Ivanova.  "I
could get you one, if you want.  I think I can solve our problems."

	"Right.  What's the plan?"

	"First," I said, "we get back to the station and you take a shower.
Then, we'll go and get this plan into action.  I can't tell you yet, because
I've got to finish the modeling.  But, I think we've just found the light
at the end of the tunnel."

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

	G'kar, neglected for exactly four Acts of the madness known
as Convergence, mananged to knock enough author heads(and have them make
a very satisfying THUMP! when they hit the ground) to get a slot in 
the story.

	Walking down the Zocallo, with a piece of paper in his hands
detaling the location of someone who could help him, G'kar walked past
Shampoo's food shop, and looked at a man and a woman starting to kiss
each other.

	Yang and Gabrielle, negelected for five Acts, had gotten past
nerviousness to kissing and light petting.  At this rate, the story would
end with wedding bells for the two, they were getting along so well.
It was into this scene that G'kar walked in.  "Excuse me, which one
of you is Yang Newman?"

	"That would be me," Yang replied, adjusting his glasses.  "What
do you want?"

	"Well, you see, I heard that you're a ship designer," G'kar replied,
"and I'd like to commission your services to design and build a new fighter
class for my people."

        "I'm not some mercenary," Yang said.  "I'm a professional engineer
of Shinshei Heavy Industries and...."

	"My people will pay your weight in the hard currency of your choice,"
G'kar replied.

	Yang thought about it for a second, then said, "Her and my weight
in the hard currency of my choice."

	"Deal," G'kar replied.  "When can you start?"

	"Right now," Yang said, "Let's get me to a CAD Terminal!"

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

	In Susan Ivanova's room, a mirror seemed to ripple like a wave
upon the ocean.  From this wave came a woman, striding out of the mirror
like it was just a door she had entered.

	She was a slim woman, yet well fleshed and well turned.  Her skin
was a dusky white with the hint of an exotic, almost feral heritage. Hair
like molten copper ran down to the small of her back, reflecting in the
liquid gold of her eyes.  Every movement was like a prima donna ballerina,
flowing from one step to the other.  Despite the beauty of her parts,
she was even more stunning in the entirity of her appearance.  And it would
have been an embarrasment if the Queen of Avalon, Lady of all the Fey, was
anything else.

	Searching methodically through Ivanova's closet, she said, "I would
have to get someone who's a carrer military woman.  However, there is some
good taist here, so she might be redeemable."  The woman reached to the shoes,
accessing a compartment full of shoes that would make Imelda Marcos break
down in tears, and pulled out the right pair of low heeled shoes to complement
her appearance.

	When she walked out of the room, the woman was wearing a sharp and
tight outfit of black silk, complete with a silk-soft black leather corset
and low-heeled boots.  With a casual glance, she said, "Titania of Avalon
is here, husband.  Pray you aren't deciding to pratice your arts on women
without my permission!"

                         *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The man sat on a bench near a cluster of potted plants on the Zocalo.  He
was an unremarkable, ordinary-looking man, with a canvas backpack sitting
at his feet, and his clothes in a style that seemed a cross between "Robin
Hood" and 20th Century casual.  He looked at the piece of paper in his
hand and sighed.  Then he closed his eyes and muttered, as if it were an
incantation, "If A implies not B, then C.  If C and A, then D..." and so
on, in a similar vein.

He opened his eyes and looked around.  He sighed again.  "Still here.
Looks like my syllogismobile has a flat."  He looked at the piece of paper
again.  "More like a busted starter motor," he added.

He remembered what he'd been told in the world of Irish myth - that he
had a geas to set wrong things right before he could leave a place.
"Ah, Bel, my love," he muttered, "looks like I'm stuck here for a bit.
I just hope you or the Prof don't try to follow me." Harold Shea stood
up and hefted his backpack.  "Better find out what it is that I'm
supposed to do," he said, and started walking.