Ship of the Line: Far Traveler Chapter 2: Introductions, a Buffy: The Vampire Slayer + Stargate: SG-1 Crossover fanfic

Chapter Two: Introductions

xxxXXxxx

"As the Secretary General of the United Nations, an organization of 147 member states who represent almost all of the human inhabitants of the planet Earth, I send greetings on behalf of the people of our planet." – Kurt Waldheim, Secretary General of the United Nations, 1977

xxxXXxxx

In Earth Orbit, 823 km Above Sunnydale, California
November 1, 1997

09:14:04 GMT

"Huh," Xander said. "You said NORAD?" At Jonathan's nod, Xander just said, "Huh" again. After a thoughtful pause, he asked, "Okay, anyone know what the hell this General Hammond guy means by 'Stargate Command'?"

"Well, NORAD is the Air Force, right?" Willow said, not really asking. "So maybe it's an Air Force Unit that deals with Stargates."

"Yeah, okay, but isn't the nearest Tonalse stargate out near Lacaille 8760? Or was it one of the other Tonalse colonies?" Xander asked. The Tonalse were an immensely ancient species with near god-like technology, including the stargates, which would allow starships – but only Tonalse starships – to cross the Galaxy in seconds from one gate to another.

"I think so. In any case, if Earth secretly controlled a stargate, we'd have seen it by now." Buffy shook her head. "The things are as big around as the moon, for crying out loud."

"Well, whatever it is, these people expect an answer. We've got roughly 8 minutes until their deadline expires." Jonathan said.

"Right. How long is that in Earth seconds? I loved that part." Willow interjected. "So courteous of them to introduce us to that thing they call Earth time."

"Yeah, really. I guess we need to figure out what to say to these people, and we need to do it now." Xander said. "On the one hand, we don't want them to think we're going to attack them from orbit, which is what they're afraid of, I'm sure. On the other, I don't think we want them to know that it's just a bunch of High School kids and their computer teacher up here."

"And we don't want to let them get control of this ship," Buffy added. "That would be a disaster. I mean, think about what the US government would do if they had this sort of firepower. How long do you think it would take for the US to start attacking other countries just to…" she held up her hands and made air quotes. "… keep the peace worldwide."

"I guess it sounds a little arrogant of us, but at least we've been trained as ICS officers to handle the responsibilities of commanding this vessel." Willow said, finally, agreeing with Buffy. "But I don't think we're going to have to worry about them taking the Far Traveler from us. I mean, the security protocols…"

Xander nodded as well, also agreeing. "Yeah. Okay. So that leads us back to what are we going to tell them?"

"We shouldn't give them our real names." Buffy said.

"Well, yeah, I can see that. But on the other hand, I'd feel silly calling myself 'Captain Brock Samson.' That name is way too over the top." Xander responded. "At least with your name you can hide behind an alien culture. Or, you know…" he waved vaguely at Willow. "… a different Human culture."

"You could always be Xander Samson. Or maybe Brock Harris." Willow shook her head. "Meh, both of those sound kind of weird, too."

"I think I'm going to use Jonathan Brandenburger. I mean, sure that last name is a mouthful, but it'll hide my identity."

Xander thought about it for a minute. "Okay, go ahead and call these guys up. I think I know what I'm going to do. Dawn, I want you to trace the origin point of that signal. Once you know where it came from, I want us to…"

XxxxxxX

Stargate Program Base, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
November 1, 1997

09:19:27 GMT

"Anything?" General Hammond asked.

"Nothing yet, sir." Chief Master Sergeant Norman Harriman – longtime friends and colleagues knew he preferred to use his middle name, Walter, rather than his first name, which he despised for some unspoken reason – glanced at the clock. Officially – by the duty roster he, himself, had written on behalf of the general as the senior-ranking NCO at SGC – he was supposed to have been relieved three hours ago. He'd told his relief to stand down. There was no way he was missing this. "Still have a little over two minutes."

"Well, let's hope they get back to us and are friendly. We only have the two Goa'uld-buster missiles, and we don't even know if they'll work. I'd hate to waste them."

"Yes sir." Harriman nodded, his eyes still on his console.

"Anything yet?" The voice of Colonel O'Neill preceded the man up through the control room door. General Hammond turned to address his XO, but Walter just sighed. Dealing with officers was the burden of every NCO.

"Not yet, Colonel. As I was saying to Walter, here, I was…" the General's words were cut off by the whooping sound of an alarm. Walter sat up, away from his command console as every light on the board lit. Screens activated and flickered, data and imagery appearing at an amazingly high speed. He could feel the heat as the computer's CPU immediately overclocked.

And then silence.

"What in hell was that?" Colonel O'Neill demanded, but Walter had no answers.

"I have no idea, sir. It looks like there was a massive power surge but… we seem to be okay now." All of his control systems were responding normally.

"Were we just hacked? Did the aliens cyber-attack us? Could that have been the cause of the surge?" General Hammond asked, worried about the possible leak of classified material.

"If so, sir, we never saw it coming, and we had no way to stop it." Walter shook his head. "I can look and see if there was unauthorized access, but it will take me a while. Hunting down that kind of thing isn't like in the movies where you can just pull up your handy dandy 'computer invasion detection' ap."

"Do what you can, son." General Hammond ordered. He turned back to O'Neill. "Colonel…"

Once again, he was interrupted, this time by a bright violent light that appeared in the center of the room. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough for Colonel O'Neill to shout "incoming" and cross the room at high speed and tackle the general to the ground.

To tell the truth, Walter ducked and covered too. He just did it under his desk.

After a moment, when there was no Earth-shattering kaboom, he poked his head back out. The Colonel was helping General Hammond to his feet and apologizing. A pair of armed MPs were at the control room's staircase, weapons drawn, looking for an intruder. Everyone's attention eventually fell on the new thing floating in mid-air in the middle of the room.

It was a fancy looking disk made of plastic, covered in control surfaces. There was no visible means of supporting it in mid-air but float it nevertheless did. A blinking yellow light next to an inviting blue button was blinking, just fast enough to get everyone's attention. Floating above the device, in the same mild blue, were holographic letters. Eleven of them, grouped together in a pattern of 4-2-5. The letters were the same almost recognizable script that Doctor Jackson had been crowing about earlier. The middle two letters resembled nothing more than the word "TO" if you didn't mind your O's being squared off rectangles.

Speaking of Doctor Jackson… "Jack! Jack! My computer just…. Whoa… now that's interesting." The archeologist-cum-linguist skidded to a halt just inside the door. "Okay, what is that?"

"We were just going to figure that out. I think this is the alien's response." O'Neill hesitantly took a step toward the device without looking at Jackson. "Daniel, can you make heads or tails out of the letters?"

"Well…" Doctor Jackson approached the thing with no hesitation at all. "These letters look like the same alphabet used on the ship. The ones that looked close to English. So, if that's true… let's see." He paused for a moment. I think the middle word is "to." That part's pretty clear. The first word… that first letter is either a P or a really strange D. Next letter is likely a U. As for the third letter… could be an E, an S, or maybe even a… wait… Okay, the first word is "Push." "Push to." The third word is probably something like "talk" or "start" or "begin."

Dr. Jackson looked up and grinned at Jack O'Neill. "They want to talk to us, and for some reason sent this down so they could do it. It's actually inviting us to push the button and start talking."

"Yeah, but what if…" O'Neill started.

"What is that?" Captain Carter asked from the doorway. She was accompanied by Teal'c. The gang was all here.

"No clue," Colonel O'Neill answered. "There was a bright flash, and it appeared in the middle of the room."

"Probably a communication device." Daniel said. He was looking the device over pretty closely without touching it.

"When was this?"

"Likely right after all our computers went crazy." Daniel said, getting closer to the device. "Oh, this is interesting, there appears to be a keyboard along one rim. Alphabet is the same as those letters." He pointed. "And this… huh. Really? Okay… there's a black button on this other side which has a pictogram next to it." Impulsively Daniel punched the button with a forefinger, then lunged to catch the disk as it abruptly stopped hovering.

"Let me guess," O'Neil said acerbically. "You found the off switch."

"Uh." The disk was dark. No lights anywhere, and the letters had disappeared. "Possibly."

Colonel O'Neill sighed. Walter understood the colonel's feelings, as sometimes civilians were harder to deal with than officers. The colonel held his hand out, and when Daniel stared at it blankly, the colonel made a motion with his hand that could only be interpreted as 'give it here.'

Doctor Jackson handed the alien object to the colonel, who immediately began examining it. "Hey Carter?" he finally said. "Come look at this. Its fancy and all, and has that funky alien writing on it, but for all the world this looks like one of those doohickeys you see sitting on the middle of the table at a corporate meeting."

"What does 'doohickey' mean, ColonelO'Neil?" Teal'c asked.

O'Neill looked over at Teal'c while simultaneously handing the device over to Carter. "You know… doohickey. Thingamabob. Doodad."

Teal'c was silent for a moment. Finally, "Ah. I see. This object is a whatchamacallit."

"Exactly." O'Neill nodded.

"I think you're right, sir." Carter said, still examining the object. "From what I can tell – and granted I don't know what its insides look like - this thing is just a fancy, alien version of a standard conference call speaker. There are directions right on the casing, and it's in pictograms. 'Push here to turn it on and off,' 'push here to increase the volume." Carter looked up from her examination of the device. "If I didn't know better, I'd say this was designed to be handed out to lower-tech civilizations as a diplomatic tool. I bet it even acts as a translation device, once there's enough linguistic input."

General Hammond nodded at the information. "All right. Let's get this into the conference room and see if we can't get it turned back on. Walter," the general directly addressed his senior NCO. "Do what you can to find out what that power surge was."

xxxXXxxx

Stargate Program Base, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
November 1, 1997

09:26:48 GMT

The object sat in the middle of the conference table, and SG-1 – along with their commanding general – crowded around it.

"Okay." Samantha Carter said, leaning over the thing. "Here we go." And with that, she pressed down on what they were presuming to be the power button. Once again, the disk lit up, with the holographic letters appearing above, and the blinking light on the body. The disk rose from the tabletop to float maybe a foot, perhaps a foot and a half in the air.

Carter shook her head in amazement. She'd seen a lot of high technology in her time at SG-1, but this was something else. For a gadget that was smaller than an average hors d'oeuvres plate, the object seemed to have a ton of functionality. It levitated, projected holographic images, there was the keyboard, an obvious microphone grid which meant there was probably a transmitter… she suspected it was also a translator, which implied a microcomputer. The miniaturization on the device fascinated her, and she'd love to crack open its case to see what it was made of. Now, however, was not the time.

"Daniel, are you sure that says 'push to begin'?" O'Neill asked.

"Well, I can't be 100% sure, naturally, but… yeah…"

The colonel nodded. "Go ahead, Carter."

"Right." Carter pushed the 'to begin' button. She was mildly surprised by the fact that the pressure she exerted on the button didn't cause the floating disk to shift or bob in the air at all. Whatever was keeping this thing afloat wasn't hampered by having its controls manipulated.

Immediately after the button was pushed, the floating letters disappeared. A globe of light blue light expanded out from the body of the disk that eventually formed into… a person. Or at least the holographic projection of a person. The figure was in color, and seemed somehow shrunken, as if the projection wasn't Lifesize. The man – the figure was male – was extraordinarily broad, and from what she could tell he was heavily muscled, almost to the point you'd see on professional bodybuilders.

"Hello." The holographic man said. He looked around, taking in the entire room – Carter added 'cameras' to her tally of functions the device was capable of. The man nodded at each person in the room before he stopped at General Hammond. "You would be Major General Hammond. Very nice to meet you. I am Captain Xander Samson, in command of the ICS Far Traveler. On behalf of the Interstellar Coalition of Sentients, I greet you in peace." To Carter's ears, the greeting sounded practiced, as if it was a standard set of words used in such situations. "I must say, though, general, that I do not appreciate having my ship and crew threatened.

It took Carter a moment to realize that while everyone in the conference room was hearing English, the movement of the man's mouth didn't quite match. It was like watching one of those badly dubbed kung fu movies from the 70s. Translator confirmed, she thought to herself.

"Yes, I'm General Hammond." The general began. "As for the threats… Captain, I know this is blunt, but your sudden appearance in our skies has caused some panic down here. Your ship presents a tangible threat to this planet and its people. There are some people in authority who just wanted me to shoot you down no questions asked. I was able to talk them down to just giving you a warning. I appreciate that you say you greet us in peace, but… I have to ask – just what are your intentions?"

The man in the hologram – Captain Samson – looked down at himself for a moment, then did a doubletake. "Ah… you placed it on a table. Right." The man stepped forward and the device mimicked his movement. The second the disk wasn't over the table anymore, the rest of the man's body appeared, placing the disk in the same general location as the man's heart. "That's better." Fully formed, the man's image was perhaps five and a half feet in height, but as previously noted he was close to three feet across at the shoulder and looked like he could kick a car door off its hinges.

Captain Samson returned his gaze to the general, then seemed to gather himself for a moment. "I'm sorry for any chaos or worry our appearance caused. Believe me, we aren't here on purpose. This was all the result of a very strange accident. We… uh… well, the best way to explain it is that our FTL-engine malfunctioned. There was an anomalous event with our jump drive, and before we knew what was going on, we found ourselves about to crash into your planet. Trust me, we had our own panicked moments up here, too, before we were able to stabilize our orbit."

Hammond nodded, then said, "In that case, I apologize for the appearance of hostility. I'm afraid that most of our interactions with other alien species has been hostile. It has made us a bit paranoid."

"If all you've had is hostile contacts, I suppose you can be forgiven for being defensive." Captain Samson smiled. "So, no harm, no foul. We've stabilized ourselves, and we absolutely have no intention of attacking anyone. Mostly, we're trying to recover from the accident."

The general still looked non-plussed. "The fact that you've stabilized yourself is part of the problem. You see, knowledge of our interaction with alien species is a closely held secret on this world – in fact, knowledge that alien life exists at all is a closely held secret. We need you to move to a higher orbit where you're not easily visible." The general said.

Captain Samson gave the general a gimlet eye. "You are in contact with other aliens and you haven't told your own populace?" Xander knew the answer already, but he wanted to see where this went. "So… what… only the heads of the other governments know?"

There was an awkward silence and no one but the general met the starship captain's eye. The general's lips went thin, and he seemed to be forcibly avoiding offering any answer to the question.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. You're telling me that you haven't even told other countries that there are aliens and that you're doing business with them. You're telling me no one else on Earth knows but you and the US government?" Samson rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Wow. Well… this complicates things a bit."

"Wait… you're aware that this is Earth?" Daniel asked. It was a good question.

Xander stared, thrown off balance by the out-of-nowhere question. "Of course… um…" Captain Samson stopped, obviously giving Daniel a cue.

"I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson." Daniel nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Jackson." Captain Samson smiled. "To answer your question, yes, we recognize the Earth. Why do you ask?"

"Most of the aliens we've met… even the human cultures from other planets… have no idea Earth even exists, much less are capable of recognizing it from orbit." Daniel responded.

"Really? Weird." Captain Samson ran a hand through his hair. "Well, there's a very simple explanation. Terra… Earth, that is… is one of the founding worlds of the Interstellar Coalition of Sentients. Or rather, it will be. You see, we're from your future."

Everyone in the room was caught flat-footed by that announcement. Samantha herself was shocked, but after a moment's consideration she had to nod. It made all sorts of sense.

"Captain, if what you say is true…" the general began, but before he could continue there was a beeping noise from the device.

Captain Samson's hologram became motionless, and a woman's recorded voice said, "Communications interrupted. We are sorry for the inconvenience. Please hold."

O'Neill laughed. "I love it. Spacemen from the future, and they put us on hold."

"Why do you think?" Daniel asked. "Is there something going on in orbit?"

"Who knows?" O'Neill said. "Maybe he told us something he shouldn't have."

There was another beep and the holographic figure began moving again. "Sorry about that," Samson said.

xxxXXxxx

In Earth Orbit, 823 km Above Sunnydale, California
November 1, 1997

09:30:40 GMT

"Xander! Are you out of your cotton-picking mind, telling them something like that?" Willow demanded at the top of her lungs.

"Wils, what's the problem?" Xander asked, bemused.

"Time travel? The entire jump drive accident thing, okay, but time travel!? Have you lost it completely?" Willow demanded again. "You told them we're from the future?"

"Sure, why not? Can you think of a better explanation of how we're here in an advanced starship, with technology these people never even dreamed about, and yet also know so much about Earth?" Xander chuckled and shrugged in bemusement at Willow's outrage.

"Well…" Willow began. But that was all she said.

"Um… not that anyone asked," Jonathan said. "But I think it's a brilliant cover story. It pretty much works on all levels. Especially since according to the ship's internal calendar, the current year is 3224 anyway."

Everyone looked to Buffy for her opinion. "What? Doesn't matter to me. I was never into science fiction all that much anyway."

Willow sat there, silent, before huffing. "Fine. Just… be careful. Keep your story straight, Xander."

"I will, don't worry." Xander nodded. "Now… let's resume communication, okay?" Willow nodded and pressed a control on her console. Xander was immediately surrounded by images of the SG-1's conference room. "Sorry about that…"

xxxXXxxx

Stargate Program Base, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
November 1, 1997

09:26:48 GMT

There was another beep and the holographic figure began moving again. "Sorry about that," samson said. "My XO was reminding me about the potential hazards of revealing what would be - for you - future knowledge. Altering the timeline and all that. She's understandably worried that we'll screw something up here in the past and prevent the ICS from ever forming."

"And that would be a bad thing, I'm guessing." O'Neill said.

"Well… yes, it would be. The Coalition has kept the peace in Known space for 300 years." Captain Samson shrugged. "Besides, you're Americans, right? Wouldn't you want to make sure that Thomas Jefferson finished the US Constitution on time?"

"Uh… James Madison wrote the US Constitution, not Thomas Jefferson." Daniel replied.

"Really? Huh." Samson shrugged again. "Well… you know, not my planet's history, and history was never really my favorite subject. I'm sure you know what I mean, though."

"So…" O'Neill said with that slight slowness to his voice that his team recognized as being the lead-in to a hard-hitting question. "You're from a different planet and from the future?"

"Certainly. In my time, humanity has spread out among the stars and has colonized multiple worlds. I mean, human space is literally called 'the Hundred Worlds.' There's actually more than a hundred but saying 'the Hundred and Sixty-Three Worlds just doesn't have the same ring to it." Samson smiled. Carter got the feeling he smiled a lot. Most of what he said seemed to be on the edge of a joke, or at least tinged with some unknown source of humor.

"If I may ask," Teal'c said. "You mentioned being from the future. From how many years did you come to this time?"

"Well, its… what… late 1997 according to your calendar? That would mean we were thrown some twelve hundred, twenty-seven years back into the past. Where we are from, its day 184 of Common Year 329, dated from the founding of the Coalition." Samson turned, and seemed to be silently consulting with someone that SG-1 couldn't see. "According to my operations officer, according to your calendar that would be… uh… July 3, 3224."

"Its October here." Daniel said. "Wait, no… its after midnight, so its November. November first. I'd love to find out how closely your calendar matches…"

The general cleared his throat, and Daniel fell silent. "While I'm sure we look forward to exchanging whatever knowledge you wish to give us later on, I still need to know just what your intentions are now that you are here in Earth orbit, Captain Samson."

"Well general, that's a harder question than you know." Samson once again ran a hand through his hair. "You see, we're drastically undermanned and operating on emergency protocols. The… event, let's call… cause massive casualties among my crew."

The alien captain heaved a great sigh and continued. "We have no idea how to recreate the circumstances that brought us here – and given that it wiped out so many of my crew, I'm not sure I'd want to. Nor is there any guarantee that were we to replicate it, we'd land back in our own time. For all we know, we could end up even further in the past, or perhaps in a far off year that would be not only the future for you, but for us as well."

"How many did you lose?" O'Neill asked. The question caused both Daniel Jackson and the general to wince, but neither said anything.

"Over 99.9% of my crew vanished when the event happened." Captain Samson was silent for a long while, before he quietly muttered, "Nearly ten thousand people, almost the entire crew of the Far Traveler, gone. They were here one moment, gone the next. There's less than twenty of us left. Without only a skeleton crew, my options are limited. It looks like there's no way we can get home. We're all going to grow old and die here."

The room went deathly silent as the Stargate personnel tried to process what they were hearing. No one in the conference room could see tears, but nevertheless Captain Samson's holographic form wiped at his face with a hand.

"My god…" General Hammond finally said, his voice heavy. "Less than twenty out of a crew of almost ten thousand?" He looked to his team, and every one of them was just as shocked as he was. O'Neill was thumping his fist on the table, over and over again, his eyes closed. Carter's mouth was hanging open and her eyes were wide and watery. Daniel Jackson looked like he was about to vomit. Teal'c looked unaffected to anyone who didn't know him, but there was a tell-tale tightening around the Jaffa's eyes that gave away that he, too, was being hard-hit by the news.

"Captain…" the general began, then paused. This Far Traveler might have been an alien starship, but right now it was an alien starship in serious distress. American law was quite clear on how to respond in that case. Hammond stared into space for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Captain, in accordance with Article 12 of the Second Geneva Convention and the laws of the United States of America, I'd like to extend any and all possible assistance I can to you in this time of distress. Is there anything we can do to render assistance?"

The starship captain was silent for a long moment. "General, let me consult with my crew about our immediate needs. I'll contact you again in… say… 7200 seconds." The general nodded in response, two which Captain Samson said, "We'll be in touch. Samson out."

The hologram winked out and the conference room was quiet.

Eventually O'Neill spoke up. "So… anyone doubt what he was saying?"

"You think he was lying, Jack?" Daniel asked, incredulous.

"No. No, I don't. Did you see the look on his face? No, that's the look of a commander who has lost most of his command and there was nothing he could have done about it. I just… I've seen some operations go south pretty badly. But there haven't been any cases of near 100% casualties since World War II. It's a bit of a shock."

"All right, people." General Hammond said. "I want us to figure out just what kind of aid we can render and how much of it. I'm going to call the president and explain what's going on to him."

"He won't give you any trouble for volunteering aid, will he sir?" Carter asked.

"No. As I mentioned, I'm following US law which requires all aid and assistance be rendered to mariners in distress." Hammond gave a shallow, dark grin. "Now, granted those laws were originally written for sailors on the ocean whose ships sink, or who are shipwrecked, but I think the principle applies here."

"7200 seconds?" Daniel asked out of the blue.

"Two hours, Danny. He's calling us back in two hours. 60 seconds per minute times 60 minutes per hour times 2 for two hours." O'Neill said. He turned to the general. "It occurs to me that a warship from a thousand years in the future would be an amazing asset in our war against the Goa'uld, sir."

Hammond nodded. "It would, yes. I suspect there are going to be those who will bring pressure for us to simply seize the… Far Traveler, was it? Someone in Washington will think that since most of the crew is gone, and since these are aliens we're talking about, we can just take the thing over. Something tells me that trying it would be a fool's game, colonel."

"If there's one thing that Star Trek has taught us it's those sorts of ships have automated internal defenses." Everyone rolled their eyes at O'Neill's comment. Trust the colonel to make a Star Trek reference.

"Did anyone else notice that Captain Samson's mouth wasn't matching his voice?" Daniel asked. "We were hearing English, but he wasn't speaking it."

"That was one of the first things I noticed, Daniel." Carter said. "There's likely a translator function in the communicator plate."

"That's neat," O'Neill said. "I can think of ways we could use that technology, if they can teach us to make it."

General Hammond nodded. "I'm sure they have many examples of technology we could use. The question is, will they share it."

"If they're anything like every other race we've ever met, they're not going to just hand over the big honking space guns," O'Neill said. "But medical advances, communications technology, material science…"

"Even if all we did was take them up on their offer to be a lifting body for us, it would revolutionize the space program," Carter said.

Teal'c nodded, then added, "It may be that even if they are unwilling to hand over weapons technology, they might be willing to part with more defensive knowledge. Knowing how to make your own shield generators would be a great boon to the Tau'ri."

Daniel seemed to be talking to himself. Everyone else was talking about one thing, and he was talking about another. It was something he did sometimes when he was thinking. "Twelve hundred years between then and now. Linguistic drift is a constant thing. I mean, look at how different the English language today is from what it was only a hundred years ago. Given a thousand years? Who knows what the English language would be like over that length of time; just look at the differences between the language circa the year 1000 and now! It's fascinating. I'd love to see what they know about the evolution of languages."

"One thing at a time, Doctor Jackson." General Hammond nodded, understanding the linguist's interests. He addressed the whole team. "Speculating about the technology they might be willing to share with us can wait. Right now, we need to focus on what they might need to just survive right now. So…" the general paused and took in his team. "Two hours." The general nodded again. He stood, and everyone else in the room stood with him, including Doctor Jackson this time. "Dismissed, people. I need to make a phone call. See to marshalling what resources we have that they might find useful. At the very least, maybe we can lend them a few strong backs for lifting and carrying."

xxxXXxxx

In Earth Orbit, 823 km Above Sunnydale, California
November 1, 1997

09:47:02 GMT

The lights of the holocom system went out and Xander turned to the others on the bridge. "And the Oscar goes to…"

"That was pretty brilliant, Xander." Willow sighed, always the worrier. "Now we just have to remember to keep the story straight."

"Won't be that hard. The best part about the story I gave them is that it's all true." Jonathan said. "An anomalous event did cause us to be here. This ship is from the far future. From what Dawn says, she had a full crew until whatever it was that turned us into our costumes ended and they just blipped out leaving all of us behind."

"So, what are we going to ask them for – you know, the assistance they are offering?" Buffy asked.

"That's a good question." Xander took a deep breath and blew it out rapidly, momentarily puffing his cheeks out. "We're good for food – our biomatter reserves can keep the replicators supplied for decades, given that there's only like one thousandth of the crew complement on board. Repairs can be handled by the service drones, and we can manufacture any spare parts we need. Heck, we probably could build a whole shuttle with the material resources we have."

"And if we need more, we can hit the asteroid belt. Feed a couple of rocks into the converter and boom, we'll have all the minerals we need." Jonathan added.

"Our medical technology is much better than theirs. And besides, no one's hurt." Willow said.

Buffy nodded. "Replicators can make us clothing, and we're in the ultimate shelter. So just what do we need from them?"

Xander was silent. He shrugged, not knowing how to answer.

"How about legal identities. I mean, for our new personas?" Willow said. "I mean, if we're going to be like this forever, I don't want to be constantly explaining why I'm no longer a 5'5" tall redhead from California, you know?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't think anyone's going to be accepting my driver's license as proper ID anymore." Buffy said, waving a hand over her body. Her eyes widened suddenly. "Oh shit… do I even have rights anymore? Does the Bill of Rights apply to non-humans?"

"Yes, you do. As I recall from my History of Law class, the Bill of Rights spoke of the rights of 'people' not 'human beings." Xander said, the knowledge bubbling up from his new memories. "The ICS considers the Bill of Rights to be one of the first steps forward in recognizing the rights possessed of all sentient beings regardless of species. So, you're fine."

"Okay. That's good." Buffy was quiet for a moment. "Other than the new identities, and maybe a place to take a vacation safely, we don't really need anything that the Earth can provide, you know?"

"Oh no. Nope. Uh-huh." Xander said. "Have you seen the replicator's selection of junk food? I have a plan to beam down to a Quik-E-Mart and load up on unhealthy snackage and feed it into the replicator's intake. Probably do the same thing with the Double-Triple from the Double Meat Palace and the Chicken Mega Quesadilla from Jose Fuego's."

"The triple peanut butter malted from Icy-Treat." Jonathan said, staring into space.

Xander grinned and pointed at Jono in the universal 'got that right' gesture. "Exactly."

"Well, before we go on the snack run, I need to call my mom. She's probably worried sick." Buffy said. "Dawn, can you hook into the telephone system in the town below us?"

"Dawn, belay that." At Buffy's confused look, Xander continued. "It's got to be close to 3 am down there. Your mom is probably asleep right now."

"No, I told her that we'd be done escorting the kids by 8 at the latest. I told her we might go hang at the Bronze after, but even then, I'd normally be back home by 11:30 or so. So, if its 3 am I know she's down there worrying about me."

"Oh. Okay." Xander looked sheepish. "In that case, Dawn, can you get into the telephone system down there?"

"Easily, Captain." Dawn said. "Whom did you wish to contact, Commander Summer?"

"My mother. Here's the number. I'll take it at the communications console." Buffy rattled off the ten-digit phone number for the house on Revello Drive, sitting down at the appropriate console. She put the earpiece off its hook and put it on, then tapped a control.

"So, anyone else want to make a phone call before we talk to the General and his people again?"

"Maybe we should contact Giles. Let him know what's going on." Willow suggested.

"Mister Giles the Librarian? That Mister Giles?" At their nods, Jonathan got a confused look on his face. "Why would you need to call him at…" he checked something on his console. "Ten till 3 in the morning? Do you have some books that are really overdue or something?"

"Jonathan…" Xander began, wondering how much he should say. "You're aware that something weird is going on in Sunnydale, right?"

"Yeah." Jono nodded, glumly. "There's definitely something dark and spooky going on. All those people disappearing or dying mysteriously."

"Well… let's just say that we – along with Buffy and Mr. Giles and Ms. Calendar – are trying to do something about it."

"Yeah!" Willow said, brightening up. "You see Buffy's the Slayer, which means it's her job to stop the monsters and the demons and the vampires. We're like… the Slayerettes. We assist the Slayer and give her backup."

"The Slayer. Vampires, demons, and monsters." Jonathan said. "Are you kidding me about this?"

"Jonathan, you got turned into your Halloween costume and now have the memories of Dack Brandenburger in your head. Not to mention you're standing on the bridge of a starship from a thousand years in the future. And you're going to get picky about vampires and demons?" Xander chuckled and shook his head. "Wow."

"Uh, yeah… I guess that does sound stupid." Jonathan admitted. He was quiet for a moment. "I guess vampires would explain a lot of things happening in town…"

"There's something else to consider here, Xander." Willow said, worried. "From a certain point of view, this ship is nothing more than a flying weapon of mass destruction. There's no way this General guy is not going to contact his superiors. Sooner or later, someone, somewhere, is going to want to take this ship and turn it into a big stick for US policy."

She looked at the other two. "Think about it. Can you imagine how quickly someone at the helm of this ship could conquer the entire earth? I mean, we're not going to go blowing up the world because we've got ICS ideals and morality in our heads. We take a larger view. We tend to think on an interstellar level, or on the planetary level, not on the local."

Xander nodded. "Yeah, we'll make sure they understand that we're not here to enforce some politician's plan for world supremacy."

"What if they make it a condition of assisting us?" Jonathan asked.

"We refuse." Willow said. "We outright refuse. We can offer them other things in exchange for their help. Like medical technology, or better communications gear. Giving them tech that we'd consider cutting edge would be useless since there's no way that they could build more with their current tech base. But we could give them examples of new tech from… say… the 2010s or the 2020s."

"We can also advance their materials science by decades. We could give them advanced formulas for new plastics, new metallic alloys… I think there's even a room-temperature superconductor we could give them." Jonathan added.

"Yeah. And heck, even if all we offered them was our surface-to-orbit lift capacity it would be a boon. Using our capabilities, we could put a satellite in orbit in minutes." Xander nodded. "With our help, they could get a Mars colony set up by the end of next year."

"Okay guys," Buffy said, turning back to the group. "I… uh… talked to my mom. She's really mad that I didn't make it home. I tried to explain what was going on, but… uh… she wants me home. Now. I'm going to have to go down there to explain to her what's going on."

xxxXXxxx

1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California
November 1, 1997

09:51:34 GMT

Joyce Summers jolted awake. She'd been sitting on the couch, waiting for Buffy to come home. There was no reason why Buffy needed to be out past midnight, and the last time Joyce checked the clock, it was 2 am. It had been a long day, though, and she had nodded off.

She looked around, trying to figure out what woke her, but seeing nothing…. And then Joyce nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang. She huffed a couple of times, realizing that this must be what woke her up.

Joyce lunged at the phone. "Buffy?"

"Yeah, mom, it's me. I… uh…"

"Where are you, young lady?" Joyce asked, angrily. "You should have been home hours ago!"

"Yeah, mom, I know… I just… something happened. Something bad. I… uh… I'm okay, mostly, but there's been… something… just something happened."

"What? What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Joyce asked. For a moment, her anger turned to fight. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No, mom… I'm… there's actually a doctor here. I just… I'm not in danger or anything, and I'm not hurt. Its just something happened.'

"Fine. Okay, you say something happened but you're okay. Is anyone else hurt? Xander? Willow?" Joyce asked, increasingly worried.

"No, mom… everyone's fine. It's just… something weird happened."

"If you're okay, come home."

"That's not going to be that…"

"I want you home right now, young lady." Joyce was firm, tamping down on her anger. "Don't backtalk me right now. You don't call me three hours after your curfew and tell me something happened, then tell me you can't come home."

"Mom, I… I'm not… look, I'm not exactly in Sunnydale right now. I'll be home as soon as I can, and I'll explain what happened. I need to talk to you about… well, about a lot of things. I'll call back later, mom. Bye."

"Wait, Buffy! Don't…" but a dial tone was all she heard. "Damn it." Joyce looked at the phone receiver for a moment, then hung up.

She walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. She doubted she'd get any sleep tonight."

xxxXXxxx

In Earth Orbit, 823 km Above Sunnydale, California
November 1, 1997

09:53:38 GMT

"Oh, Buffy… that's going to be horrible. I mean, how are we going to explain all this to her?" Willow stood and patted her friend on the back. "Do you want us to go with you? We can offer backup, not to mention some additional evidence." She motioned towards Xander.

"Yeah. You guys can help back up my story."

"Sure, Buffster. We can do that." Xander turned to Jonathan. "Jono, how much longer do we have until our next scheduled communication with the General?"

"Uh…" Jonathan checked something on his console. "I read it as one hour, fifty four minutes remaining.

"Plenty of time, hopefully. And if not, I'll come back up here, and you and Willow can keep talking to your mom."

"What about Giles? Should I call him? Ask him to meet us at my house?" Buffy asked.

"Might be a good idea. You were planning on calling Giles eventually, anyway. Might as well get it over with." Willow said, nodding.

Xander looked to Jonathan. "You'll be in command while we're ashore."

"Got it," the other man just nodded.

"Okay, Buffy, call Giles, and then we'll beam down to your house." Willow patted Buffy on the back again. "You'll be fine. Your mom will understand. I mean, once everything is explained to her. You know? She's cool like that."

That raised a snort from Buffy. "You didn't know her before I got here. The first time I tried to tell her and my dad about the Slayer gig, they threw me…" Buffy abruptly went silent. "Never mind. Let's just say she's not always as accepting and understanding as she seems."

"We'll be there for you, Buff." Xander said. "Go call Giles."

xxxXXxxx

1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California
November 1, 1997

10:02:30 GMT

When she heard the knock at the door, Joyce Summers first instinct was to call out for Buffy, but she immediately realized how ridiculous that was. The door wasn't locked. Buffy would just walk into the house. Joyce glanced at the clock. A couple of minutes after 3 am. Who in the blazes could be knocking on my door at this hour? she thought to herself.

Joyce made sure the chain was in place before opening the door just a crack. A tall man with glasses, wearing a tweed jacket over a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans smiled at her from the other side of the door.

"Mrs. Summers?" the man asked.

"Yes?" Joyce was perhaps a bit more abrupt than she meant to be, but it was three in the morning for crying out loud.

"Ah, yes, I, uh, apologize for the late hour. My name's Rupert Giles. Your daughter, Buffy, asked me to come over as quickly as I could. She said she had something to tell the both of us."

Rupert Giles? Where had she heard that… oh, right. "You're the librarian. At the High School."

"Yes, that's right," the man nodded.

"Why would Buffy call you? And at this hour?" Joyce demanded.

Mr. Giles opened his mouth to speak but stopped abruptly. There was a bright, sinking glow that lit up the inside of the door, the wall next to it… everything. It was clear something strange had just happened behind her.

Joyce spun, inadvertently slamming the front door of the house closed. Her eyes widened as she took in the three figures. Two women and a man. The man was stubby and short. He had a head of closely trimmed black hair and had so many muscles on top of his muscles that it looked like he'd swallowed Arnold Schwarzeneggar whole, and followed him up with Lou Ferigno for dessert. The two women were just as strange. The first was tall – very tall – and pale with white skin and hair.

The second was… weird. A monster, almost. She was slightly taller than she was, with a golden cascade of hair cut in a long, flowing mohawk down the center of her back. Her skin was a golden tan for the most part, and there were black spots all over the woman's exposed skin. And…

It took Joyce a moment to finish that thought. The woman seemed to have four breasts. Stacked in two rows of two.

"Mom," the weird, four-breasted spotted woman said in Buffy's voice. "If that's Giles, let him in. We need to talk about what happened tonight and we don't have a lot of time."

The first thing that registered was that the woman's canines were longer than normal. Not to the point of fangs, but definitely more pronounced. And then the real shock registered: Buffy's voice was coming out of the strange woman's mouth. It was suddenly too much. Joyce felt a sort of falling rush, a physical sensation not unlike the plunge you feel after cresting the peak of a tall roller-coaster. Everything went dark.

Joyce opened her eyes, wondering what just happened. She was lying on her couch, suddenly, with the weird-looking monster woman was leaning over her, holding her hand. The librarian, Mr. Giles, was standing nearby with the squashed-looking man and the pale giantess.

"Mom?" The woman said. "Oh, thank God you're okay. You scared me when you fainted like that."

Joyce stared at the woman, now that she was closer; her eyes were milk white with only a pupil and no iris. The spots were a regular pattern in the skin, not painted on. And the woman did nearly have fangs. But it was Buffy's voice…

"Buffy?" Now that Joyce was close, she could see her daughter in this person. The shape of her face, the curve of her eyebrow, her nose, her chin… "Buffy… how… what… I don't... don't understand!?"

"Yeah, mom. I know. Its weird. I… uh, well, I did say something happened."

Joyce sat up, slowly, with Buffy's help. She looked at the other two strange-looking people, realizing that if this was Buffy, the other two must be… "Willow? Xander?"

"Hey there, Mrs. S!" the man said as he approached. He knelt down next to the couch and Joyce could clearly see it was Xander. Just… changed. "It's us all right. It's still us."

Joyce looked to the tall woman. With the differences in coloration, and the height – not to mention the natural elongation that the height gave – it was hard to recognize her, but there were definitely remnants of Willow there.

Joyce carefully reached up to Buffy's face and ran her thumb over a row of spots. She could feel a field of short, thick hairs – almost fur – covering Buffy's face. The spot only shifted when her daughter's skin did. The spot was really, really there. The… again, Joyce hesitated to call it 'fur'… was really there. She once again looked toward Xander and Willow, then faced her daughter again.

"What happened? Why did you turn into… that?" Joyce asked.

"I asked them that earlier, but they told me I had to wait until you were conscious." Giles said.

"We don't have a lot of time to keep rehashing the story." Xander said. "We're not really sure, but we think someone cast a spell on the town to turn everyone into their Halloween costume."

"What?" Joyce asked. "Spell?"

But no one was paying attention. Giles said, "That would be horridly dangerous, given the proclivities of some people and their choices of costume." The older man was silent for a moment. "How do you know?"

"Well, we don't. Not really." Willow said. "Its just there were nine of us affected like this, and the only common thread any of us found were we all rented these costumes…" she gestured to the uniform she was wearing. "… from the same shop. We were all doing different things – escorting the kids, going to parties, and so on – but we were all wearing the same sort of costume. Only Cordelia was unaffected. If our guess about the costumes is correct, it's because she got hers from Party City while we got ours from this new place called 'Ethan's."

"Ethan's?" Giles asked. "We'll have to look into it. Do you know how the spell was ended?"

Xander shook his head. "No clue. We all just woke up in orbit on a spaceship."

"Wait…" Joyce found her voice, overriding the conversation going on in front of her. "You woke up on a… a spaceship?" She was feeling faint again. "Hold on. You said it was a spell. A magic spell? You mean like a magic spell? Like a real life 'hocus pocus, alakazam' magic spell?"

"Yeah, mom. Just like that. A real life hocus-pocus spell." Buffy sat on the couch, carefully to give her mother maximum room. "Its all real. Magic is real. Spells, witches, curses. It's all real."

"Not to mention the demons and the vampires." Willow added.

"What… vampires?" Joyce's eyes went wide, and she stared in open horror at her daughter. "Vampires, like when you burned down the…"

"Yeah, mom. Like when I burned down the gym."

"Buffy, that's ridiculous! Vampires? You were having problems. You suffered a mental breakdown and were hallucinating."

"Right, I was hallucinating." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Just like I'm hallucinating having fur and fangs and spots, right? Just like how Willow is hallucinating being a seven-foot-tall albino."

"Buffy, you…" Joyce began, but Buffy overrode her.

"No, mom. I need you to listen. I am the Slayer, the one girl in all the world who has the strength and skill to fight the vampires. It's a thing." She gestured toward the librarian. "Mister Giles is my Watcher; he trains me to fight. My old Watcher, Merrick, got killed defending me. Its all real. Monsters, magic, spells, ghosts, and ghoulies. All real. And now someone has turned me into this as part of a Halloween prank, apparently."

"But… how can this all be real?" Joyce asked, still not wanting to accept it. But – still holding Buffy's hand – she pushed a finger up and down the back of Buffy's, still feeling the fur that was now present on her daughter's body. It was real. It was completely real.

"Oh, God… and we threw you in that place when we thought you were…" Joyce was horrified. "Buddy, darling, I am so, so…"

"Don't, mom. Its okay. Just… we have other fish to fry right now." Buffy nodded, acknowledging Joyce's attempt at an apology, but clearly not accepting it.

"Why? What else is going on?" Mr. Giles asked.

"Well… uh… Xander, you explain." Buffy turned to Xander.

"Right." Xander stepped forward and assumed some kind of stance with his arms tucked behind his back. Joyce had seen solders stand this way in military movies. She forgot what the stance was called, but… Xander was talking.

"Changed as we are, there's no way the three of us can live normal lives now. Whatever magic did this, we three figure its likely going to be permanent. In addition, we have a mile-long, heavily armed starship in orbit that we and the others are in control."

"I don't think children are the right people to be put in charge of such a thing, do you?" Mr. Giles asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. First of all, everyone involved is no longer a teenager, at least physically. Sure, chronologically I'm still 16," Xander said. "Physically, I'm closer to 30, and mentally I'm even more mature. The character I was playing – the character I turned into – was a double doctorate. I'm as adult as they come right now. But anyway, it's all moot."

"But you're still teenagers! The fact that you look older doesn't mean you are. You need to hand over this… this ship of yours to someone who can use it responsibly." Joyce asked. "I mean…"

"One moment, Mrs. Summers." Giles interrupted. "Xander, what do you mean when you say that whether you're the right people is moot?"

Xander nodded and shrugged. "Well, what you have to understand is that the ship is controlled by an artificial intelligence. Her name is Dawn. Dawn's programming isn't going to allow her to just let anybody who walks into the bridge and says that are in control be in control. Dawn recognizes me as its captain and them" – he pointed to the two girls – "as my command crew, along with the others. So, we're in command whether you want us to be or not."

"But… what about your lives here?" Joyce was grasping for some remnant of their normal life at this point.

"Mom look at me. Do you really think I can just pretend to be a normal high school student anymore?" Buffy sighed. "Look, mom… I know you just want what's best for me, and I love you for that. But I need you to face facts, here, mom. I'm not human anymore. I'm a Pelkon. Yeah, they're mammals, and surprisingly they're actually related to humanity genetically, but otherwise, I'm an alien."

Joyce was quiet for a moment, before wistfully murmuring, "I was looking forward to being a grandmother. But with you…" She waved a hand at Buffy. "I guess that isn't in the cards anymore."

Willow piped up. "Actually, with modern genetic engineering techniques – I mean, modern for the time period the ship is from, not modern day Earth - it might be possible to hybridize…" Everyone glared at her. "Shutting up now."

"Yeah, thanks, Will." Xander chuckled. "So anyway, like we said, our lives on earth are basically over."

"What about Buffy's duty as a Slayer? She can't just abandon…" Giles began, only to be cut off by Buffy.

"Giles, I was someone else entirely tonight for a whole bunch of hours. Hours when I wasn't a Slayer." She crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what happens when there's no Slayer?"

"Another is called…" Giles said absently. "I need to make a phone call." He gestured toward the phone. "May I? I'll pay you back for the charges."

"Uh… yes, sure, go ahead." Joyce said. She returned her attention to Buffy and the other two children. "So, if you aren't planning on trying to live a normal life, what will you be doing instead?"

"Basically, we've decided to live on the ship permanently since we wouldn't fit in down here on Earth." Xander said. "We're going to formally take on the roles we've been thrust into. I've got the knowledge and the memories and the education of an experienced starship captain in my head, so I'm going to be a starship captain."

Xander glanced over at Giles, who wasn't paying attention, then smiled at Joyce. "Come on, Mrs. Summers, you've heard this one. I know it. To explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and civilizations. To boldly go where no one has gone before." He quoted.

"But…" Joyce turned from Xander to Buffy. "You're leaving the entire planet? I'll never see you again!"

"Actually, mom…" Buffy said, hesitant. "I, uh, want you to come with us. We can pack everything up and live on the ship. There's plenty of room. We can set you up in your own quarters, or you and I can move into one of the family suites. We won't have to worry about food or utilities, there's a couple of gyms, a swimming pool, gardens… the computer has an entire database of entertainment possibilities. Want to watch a movie? Or see a play? I'm even sure we could pick up cable signals from orbit if we wanted. Plus, it's not like coming back down to Earth for a visit or a vacation or what-have-you would be hard, right?" Buffy's eyes were beseeching.

"Wait, you want me to live on a spaceship?" Joyce asked, confused.

"We were thinking at least you and Giles. I don't really care about my folks still being on the ground," Xander admitted. "And I don't think Willow's folks would ever consider relocating. But it would make you safer. It would get you out of Sunnydale, at least."

"But I can't just go live on a spaceship!?" Joyce said. She still looked confused. "I mean, my gallery…"

"Bring it all with you. We'll record all the pieces your gallery owns into the database to preserve them. Close your shop. We'll give you a space to open up a new gallery on the ship, using either the real things, reproductions, or holo-prints." Willow said, smiling. "And like Buffy said, if you want to go on an acquisitions trip, well, it's a lot easier to travel when you're teleporting than – say – flying in a plane or driving in a car. Want to go Paris to talk to artists there? Or Vienna? You can be there in an instant and back before dinner!"

"But… but…" Joyce's resolve was crumbling as she began to see the possibilities. "What would I do most of the time on a spaceship? Really?"

"Whatever you like." Buffy shrugged. "Want to learn a new language? Or earn a new college degree? Want to learn how to play, I don't know… uh… soccer? Or racquetball?"

"Buffy, I think I'm a little old to pick up a team sport. And racquetball was always more your father's thing." Joyce shook her head. "It would take months to get the house and the gallery packed up, then put on the market, and then sold…"

"So? We have months." Buffy said. "And as for being too old, well…"

"What?" Joyce's eyes narrowed.

"I think what Buffy's hinting at is the medical technology available onboard." Willow said. "Its from a thousand years in the future. Barring accident or misadventure, the average human lifespan in the ICS is around 160 years, and people don't start getting "old" – you know, gray hair and arthritis and such - until they hit about 110 years. You're, what, 44?"

Joyce smirked. "I'm 41, thanks." She looked back at Buffy. "So, you're going to make me young again, and are offering me access to the entire world when it comes to art and travel. And all I have to do is sell the house and close the gallery."

"Just about," Buffy admitted.

Joyce sighed, resigned to what's happening. "When do we start packing?"

"I'll send a couple of service drones down to pack up all the big things. For tonight, though, you just need to grab an overnight bag. Your toothbrush, makeup if you want, a couple days clothing. Once we're on board, we can make sure you have everything you need in the long term. Other than, you know, anything personal you want from the house or the gallery. We can have that brought up in a couple of days."

"Service drones?" Joyce asked, still a bit stunned by it all.

"They're robots. High functioning, very smart robots. Not really artificially intelligent like Dawn, but more like… virtually intelligent. They're smart, they just can't learn." Buffy said.

"Oh, right. Virtually intelligent. Sure." Joyce nodded. "And they'll pack the house for us?"

"Oh, sure. They have open programming. You tell them to do something, and how you want it done, and they'll do it. If they encounter something they don't know how to handle, they'll contact us and ask for further directions. We can even have Dawn monitor their progress and issue updates if necessary." At Joyce's astonished look, Buffy continued. "It's okay, mom. You'll get used to the weird eventually. Trust me, Xander and Willow went through it to. I remember, back when they…" Buffy began, only to be interrupted by Giles.

"I just got finished talking to Roger Windham-Pryce at the Council's headquarters in London. He tells me that there is, in fact, a new Slayer. She and her Watcher, a man named Sam Zabuto, were finishing their cleansing of Kingston, Jamaica, before coming here."

"Finish their… That sounds like she's been active a lot longer than a couple of hours," Xander said.

"Yes, well. She apparently was called towards the end of last Spring, when Buffy confronted the Master." Giles took his glasses off and started wiping at them with a handkerchief.

"You mean when I drowned. When Xander revived me." Buffy said. She was quiet for a moment, and then added, "That makes sense. I was technically dead for a couple of minutes."

"You were what?" Joyce demanded, her voice shrill. "Did you just say you were dead?"

"Only for a couple of minutes. Xander has CPR training and was able to revive me. Then we went back to the school and kicked the Master's ass." Buffy shrugged, as if drowning and being revived were a common everyday thing.

Joyce looked at Xander, who only nodded. "Me and Willow were CPR certified down at the Y when we were freshmen. Willow insisted." He glances at Willow for confirmation, and the girl nodded enthusiastically.

"Young lady, once everything is settled, you and I are going to sit down over a cup of coffee and some cake and have a long, long talk about what's been going on with your life." Joyce gave her daughter one last wistful look. "I guess I better go grab my bag."

Buffy, Xander, Willow, and Giles watched Joyce head upstairs for a moment, before turning back to one another. "Okay, so the Hellmouth is going to have some coverage. This is good."

"Yes, well, since we're not even sure you're a Slayer anymore, I suppose that is a good thing." Giles confirmed. "We need to test you, by the way, to see if you've retained any of your former abilities."

"I'm cool with that, I guess." Buffy nodded.

"In the meantime, you should go grab an overnight bag yourself, G-Man." Xander grinned. "Unless you trust the ship to provide for you."

"Trust the ship to provide for me." Giles repeated, muttering. "Yes, I do suppose I should go and do that. I'll call when I'm ready for… what's the phrase? 'Beaming?' Bloody fan lingo…"

"Technically, its not called that, but we've been using a lot of Star Trek terms for things. Its… well, it comes more naturally." Willow said.

"Here, Giles." Buffy called up the haptic interface on her wrist and tapped some commands. She then held out her hand and a small soft-looking object fell into it. "This is a comm-whig. You put it in your ear." Buffy turned her head and pointed, allowing Giles to see that she had a similar object already in place. "We have to get back to the ship soon, so when you're all packed and ready for pickup, just tap this and say, 'Giles to Far Traveler.' We'll coordinate transport for you at that point."

Giles stared at the object she handed him. "You know, I want to see this vessel of yours, but I'm not completely convinced to stay permanently." He pushed the thing into his left ear, feeling it conform to his auditory canal. Amazingly, it didn't muffle the ambient sound around him at all.

"Think about it, G-Man. That's all we can ask." Xander said, patting the older man on the arm.

XxxxxxX

Author's Note: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Warner Brothers in conjunction with Mutant Enemy Productions. Stargate SG-1 is the property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in conjunction with Double-Secret Productions, the Gekko Film Group, Sony Pictures Television, and the Showtime Network. The Hundred Worlds novels and roleplaying setting are both the property of Passionate Worldmakers, Incorporated in association with Bard's Tower Media. All elements derived from The Hundred Worlds is used here with permission of the author.

Author's Note the Second: This story will not leave me alone. Its building slowly, right now, but I have written notes about future scenes for the entire length of the story, I think, and I keep coming up with more of them. (Usually while I'm in the shower; my nurse is becoming a fan of the story because she's there when I come up with the new stuff.)