Watchers' Arrival



(Author's note: the first part is a reprise from Dragon Lines Episode 3 - the rest is original. That done, let's get on with the story...)

---



[VO, done by a voice actor who sounds almost, but not quite, unlike James Earl Jones]

N-Space.

Dark and twisted mirror universe to our own.

Where magic and science have spun out of control, creating ever more terrible visions.

This is a universe of demons, of monsters, of unnameable *things* which wait in the shadows.

And where these horrors arise, people will arise to hunt them.

[Cut to a city-scape. If you like, you can think of it as New York.

Only with less morality, more monsters, and more disturbing mecha.]

A young man is pushing his way through the teeming crowd. Most of which looks human... at first sight.

He has purple hair, a really well-made cloak and gloves, and one of those funky magical staffs. The purple hair is cut in a bowl-cut, slightly ruining the overall effect, but still managing to make him... disturbing.

In fact, if one were inclined so, you could almost suspect that he'd deliberately _chosen_ the cut, simply for the disturbing effect.

He is pushing and shovng his way through the crowd, looking back behind him nervously.

'Adric!! Come back here and DIE!!' screams a voice behind him.

'Afraid no can do, oh Enemy of All Who Live,' he yells. 'I've got my tax returns to do tomorrow, and you _know_ how they get...'

'You know they say there are only two inevitable things, death and taxes?' the voice behind him says sweetly.

'They're wrong, yaddayadda, the only inevitable thing is _you_...' he rattles out. 'I assume that's the sort of tired old line you were thinking of, oh Master of the Holy Cliche?'

The voice behind him pouts. Then explodes into rage. 'HOW DARE YOU!!'

'Oh, it's quite simple,' he says. 'All I have to do is open my mouth, say something like "Look, there goes the Flat-Chested Terror"... and watch you explode...'

He stops in the middle of the square, and turns round.

The crowd draws back, stunned at this display of obviously suicidal behaviour.

A teenage girl with red-orange curls, in red tights and a tunic, with a black cloak, boots, headband and a short sword, steps forward, a look of purely murderous rage in her eyes.

She begins to intone.

'Darkness beyond twilight Crimson beyond blood that flows Buried in the flow of time...'

'Still need that copy of "Black Magic for Dummies", I see...' the young man observes.

The crowd draws back even further (what there is of it - those who recognise the spell having wisely hightailed it for somewhere safer, like Hell).

The girl ignores him, though her eyes burn that little more fiercely.

'In thy great name I pledge myself to the darkness Let all the *fools* who stand before me...'

The young man simply stands there, tapping his feet, humming tunelessly and filing his fingernails.

'Be destroyed by the power you and I possess! DRAGON SLAVE!'

Vile red energy lashes out towards the young man, incinerating him in a blast of purest hellfire, leaving his blackened and smoking corpse on the ground, at ground zero of a massive crater.

Or it should.

The vile red bolt of energy lashes out... and disappears.

The crowd holds its breath.

The young woman looks steadily more furious, if that were possible. 'YOU... YOU...'

The young man grins, and holds up a crystal. 'Recognise this? Mnemonic crystal from the Old Time. Activates when *someone* is fool enough to cast a particular spell at it... and activate its own power. Like, say... oh, the Dragon Slave?'

The crowd gasps.

The young man throws the crystal on the ground. It explodes into a seething mass of red flame.

'And _this_ one's been keyed to open a gate, elsewhere, elsewhen... where I have a date with destiny. I must thank dear Coyote... he was _so_ helpful in retrieving it....'

The young man takes a run up... and jumps into the flame.

His voice echoes back, 'Adios, Nyssa Inverse...'

'Oh _no_ you don't, Adric Xellos Alzari. You're not getting away _that_ easily...' the girl hisses.

And takes a flying leap in after him.

The ball of flame collapses inward with a *WHUMPH*.

The crowd mutters amongst themselves about how that wasn't a _patch_ on the great Adric-Nyssa duels of yesteryear, and slowly go back to their normal business.

Moments later, three /more/ strangely dressed people arrive on the scene.

One of them covers his eyes with his hand.

It's the only thing on his head he /can/ cover, because he has no visible hair, eyes or mouth... nothing, apart from two very large eyes, a pair of glasses, which somehow manage to stay on despite the lack of ears or a nose, and a purple fedora, which goes rather nicely with the casual suit he's wearing. The suit looks a bit rumpled, as if it's seen better days, but it's good quality.

'I /knew/ we should have suggested those anger management classes to her.'

'Are you really sure about that, Tarklu-kun?' the short, thin young man by his side says. He looks like what, a universe away, would be described as "geeky": wire-framed glasses, short brown hair, a slightly harried, nervous expression on his face.

And for some reason, the sword strapped to his side, the leather trousers, and the well-beaten jacket do /nothing/ to improve on that impression, making him look like a geek who went to a Renaissance Fair and forgot to return the props afterwards.

'No,' Tarklu says. 'But it's either that or we wake up one morning and find the continent gone.'

'Wouldn't that happen even /if/ we suggested anger management to her?'

'See why I'm reluctant?'

'You've got a point...' the young man says.

'But where's Nyssa-san?' the teenage girl with them wails, her round face twisting. Leggings, Oriental-style shirt and hooded cloak combine to make her look like a young girl playing 'dress-up' as an adventurer. Quite clearly, this was /not/ the intent she thinks it has. And equally clearly, no-one's going to mention it to her for fear of getting pounded. That, and it's too much fun. 'Where'd she *go*?!'

'/That/ I don't know, Dorothea.' Tarklu says, wincing slightly at her high-C. 'That was definitely a portal - and from the magical signature, a /big/ one. I can't tell where, though..'

The young man has been wandering around the scene, poking hopefully at the ground as if hoping another portal will open. He frowns. 'You'd think people would recycle their bottles. It's not even as if it's that hard - /I/ do it...'

'We can track the litterers down and bring them to justice /later/.' Tarklu says, keeping an eye on Dorothea. 'Right now, we've got to find out where Nyssa-' He stops. 'That's not glass.'

The young man has picked a shard up from the street. It's blackened and slightly melted, exposed to the intense heat and flames of the Dragon Slave.

And it's /not/ glass.

'Really?' The young man considers it. 'Wonder why she never went into glass-making?'

'Too much like work,' Tarklu says wryly.

'But hunting down evildoers /is/ work!' Dorothea protests. 'It's a noble and honourable quest in the name of love and justice!'

Tarklu briefly considers observing again that in Nyssa's eyes, it's the quickest and easiest way to make some big bucks /fast/, and decides against it. Instead he says 'I believe Nyssa-san is aware of that.'

'But she doesn't see it as work. To her, it's a quest...' Dorothea sighs. 'I only wish I could be like that.'

Tarklu shifts his glasses up. 'As long as it's only /like/...'

'How /can/ I hope to imitate her?' Dorothea says. 'I could only /dream/ of equalling her!'

'AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! That flat-chested excuse for a sorceress? Why choose *her*, when you could learn from the *best*? The one and only Leela, the Brown Horda, greatest of all sorceresses, to whom even Nyssa Inverse is but companion and rival!'

Her cape swirls around her as she lands, and draws herself up to her full height, her long brown hair cascading behind her. Her costume leaves nothing to the imagination, and even adds a few things that leave the imagination with a nosebleed.

'Fear, foolish mortals, for Leela has arrived!'

'SIS!' Dorothea squeals, throwing herself into Leela's arms.

'/Sis/?' the others chorus.

'DORRY?!' Leela squeaks. 'AHAHAHAHAHA!!' she adds, in a desperate attempt to regain hold of the situation.

'/Sis/?!'

'Where'veyoubeen?!Mum'sbeenworriedsickaboutyou!Weallhave! Youcouldhavetoldusyou'dgoneadventuring!'

'Well... aheh... umm...' Leela begins.

'And you met /Nyssa/! She never told us!'

She did mention a sorceress with a laugh like a drugged coyote's, and an ego to match her bra size, though... Tarklu thinks.

'Wow...' the young man says. 'Hey, would you mind signing this? It's not for me, it's for my friend Ken...'

'Of course!' Leela proclaims. 'A true heroine must ever make herself known to those who would follow in her footsteps!'

Especially in /that/ thing... Tarklu observes.

Catching the baffled expression on Dorry's face, Leela quickly adds 'But that does not preclude masking your true nature. It is enough that they know you are a true heroine!'

'Ohhhh...' Dorry says.

'And...' Leela says, in a more normal tone of voice. 'If they had known about you, they would have tried to strike at me through you. Tried to... hurt you...'

'I know...' Dorry whispers. 'I know. ...Oh, um... This is my big sister Leela di Gale McShane.'

'Charmed,' Tarklu says, bowing to take her hand. 'Ayan Tarklu, at your service. The young man is Grant Markham, and I believe you are already acquainted with Dorothea. And may I say that, now I see you, the family resemblance is striking.'

Leela dimples. 'Of course. And it's so refreshing to meet someone who can show the proper courtesies... unlike some people I could mention.'

'Oh, Nyssa-san's not that bad,' Grant says. 'Well, not once she's eaten... although she does get a little cranky after-'

'*Anyway*...' Ayan says. 'Back to the matter at hand.'

'An impressive portal,' Leela comments. 'Anything /that/ over the top practically smacks of Nyssa... Good to see she still hasn't changed.'

'Somehow, I'm not surprised...' Ayan murmurs.

Grant taps the shard he's holding. Then again.

Then he holds it up to his ear, and listens. 'Ah. C.'

'Portal spell. A big portal, so somewhere far distant - in space and possibly time,' Leela murmurs. 'What *is* he doing?'

Grant turns the shard around in his fingers. 'Can you tell the difference between something that /is/ magic, and something that's been exposed to it?'

'Such a thing is a trifle for Leela the Brown Horda!' Leela announces. 'Allow me!'

She concentrates. 'Magical. Strong magic, unless I miss my guess. A storage spell - the spell within recently discharged... How did you know?'

'It sounded a bit flat,' Grant explains.

'You guessed it was magical... because it sounded flat?' Ayan echoes incredulously.

'Well, it should have been an A sharp. A change that drastic? Had to be magic.'

'Just when I think I've finally got a grip on the way he works,' Ayan says. 'that boy drops another bombshell.'

'He /always/ does this?'

'You should see him when we play poker,' Dorry pipes up. 'One time, he even managed to bet Nyssa-san to-'

'Hmm...' Ayan paces.

'A storage spell, a portal spell, and the Dragon Slave.' Leela says. 'Any other recent spells - whumph. Spells *that* powerful will wash out anything less intense than a Resurrection spell.'

'Let's assume...' Ayan says. 'Let's assume that there were no other spells.'

'Mm?' Dorry prompts.

'And Nyssa-san is very... let's say "hands-on", shall we? The day she uses a storage spell when she has the chance to get down and dirty is the day Dorry hangs up her baseball bat. You do still have the bat, don't you, imouto-chan?'

'I'm still fighting for love and justice! /'Course/ I do!'

Ayan shudders. 'As horrifying as the questions that image raises are, we can deduce that, most likely, the /portal/ spell was held in storage, and got activated.'

'Which means...' Dorry guesses.

'Adric.' Grant completes.

'Am I missing something here? Who's Adric?'

'He's a Player. A Player who seems to enjoy playing with /us/.' Dorry explains. 'Nyssa-san in particular.'

Leela raises an eyebrow. 'Unless Nyss changed a /lot/, *that* shouldn't be too hard...'

'So it /looks/ as if Adric's dragged Nyssa through a portal. Why?'

'..."It's a secret".' Grant completes gloomily.

'Waaah! Nyssa-san's been kidnapped!'

'Dorry...'

'She's trapped in a hellhole of injustice and torment!'

'Dorry...'

'Being subjected to countless torments!'

'Or, alternatively,' Ayan says under his breath. 'she's eating everything in sight. As usual...'

---

'*mmph* Jus' gonna finish eating this,' Nyssa Inverse says through a mouthful of food. 'Then I'm gonna track down that Playing slimeball, and I'm gonna show him what it's like to be at ground zero for a Dragon Slave.'

The chef and waitthings are huddled behind the counter. The other customers in the restaurant are staying as far away from Nyssa as possible.

If Nyssa bothered to notice, she'd find it good to know that some things never change no matter where the Tarkna she is. However, if she bothered to notice, she'd overhear some disturbing snippets of conversation.

'I thought she'd *left*!'

'Where's Embericles?!'

'Why's she wearing /clothes/?!'

Blink.

'Well, I thought...'

'Oh, it's Nyssaias. No-one /else/ could cause that kind of devastation. Hear what she did to the spaceport?'

'Oh yeah.'

'So... um, anyone wanna get her?'

'I rather like having something to pee through, thanks so much.'

'Three billion credits?'

'Like I said...'

'So how long d'you think it'll be before-'

'Oi, Nyss.'

'Yes?' Nyssa Inverse says, her mouth full.

Two hulking mounds loom overhead. In the right light, they might /just/ have passed for human... if humans had the weaponry to equip a small army.

'Boss wants ya to come with us.'

'Can'. Still hungry. Lemme finish.'

The two hulks look at the devastated table, piled high with equally devastated plates and dishes. Then look at the mound of food still in front of her. And boggle.

'Boss won't be happy unless ya come wit' us /now/.'

'Whatever happened to taking your time over a meal?' Nyssa wonders. 'Honestly... FREEZE BOLT!'

She finishes her current plate, dabs at her mouth daintily, stands up, steps around two frozen hulks of muscle and bows to the chef. 'Thank you.'

Then she leaves.

'Um... she didn't pay.'

'Are /you/ gonna ask Nyssaias von Drakken to pay?! Besides, have you /seen/ her cooking? I heard one time her cookies killed a herd of Drashigs! That girl /needs/ some good cooking!'

'Where'd she get that freeze ray?'

'We're talking about Nyssaias von Drakken, remember?'

'Oh yeah.'

Nyssa steps back in. 'Can I take the rest to go?'

---

'Right,' Ayan says. 'First, we need to find out if the portal's one-way or not, and if so, whether we can open it from this side. If we can't, or if it's one-way... what are you doing?'

'Listening to the crystal,' Grant explains. 'Hmm.'

Carefully, he draws his sword from the scabbard.

The hilt is functional, crafted for ease of use over ornate decoration. The blade, on the other hand...

The blade is a different matter.

It's a perfectly ordinary long sword blade - if it weren't for the fact that it's transparent.

Look closely enough, and you might see yourself reflected within.

He taps the blade and holds it up to his ear. 'Hm. C.'

Ayan starts to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 'Oh no...'

'Now that's interesting,' Grant observes. 'Hmm... I'm not gonna do anything stupid.' he says, catching Ayan's eye.

'That's what worries me...' Ayan mutters.

'/HE/ has the Sword of Glass?!' Leela sputters.

Grant shrugs. 'It's a family heirloom.'

'The Sword of Glass... is /his/ family heirloom?!'

'That's what /we/ said.' Ayan says drily.

'One of the most powerful magical artifacts of all time belonged to /his/ family?'

'Said that, too...'

'Back home,' Grant says, blissfully unaware of the conversation. 'my uncle had this trick he used to do at parties.'

'Uh-oh.' Ayan says.

'What? What's wrong?'

'You'll find out.'

'He used to stack these glasses up in a pyramid, then he'd pour water into them, and each glass played a different note. Used to play all the olf favourites, like "A Wizard's Staff Has A Knob On The End". "It's big and round, and weighs three to the-" '

'I warned you.' Ayan says.

'He has absolutely /no/ idea, does he...?' Leela says in stunned disbelief.

'Not that we'd noticed. Of course, now he's done that, this is the bit where-'

'Why don't we try resonating one of the shards with the Sword?' Dorry suggests.

'Bad idea.'

'Why? It'd sound wonderful!'

'It'd also set off some no doubt nasty magical effect...' Ayan says.

'You're too grumpy, Ayan-kun! Look, I'll show you! It's absolutely safe! BASEBALL BAT OF JUSTICE!' Dorry brings the bat down on the shard.

'Now that,' Grant says in the silence that follows. 'was something stu-'

The world collapses.

Which is a change. Normally, it explodes...

---

'Mmm. Ramen. Mmm.'

Nyssa Inverse is currently in heaven.

Actually, it's Freeport, but she doesn't care.

She has /food/.

Then... something truly horrifying happens.

Nyssa Inverse, feared in every restaurant across N-Space, the Bottomless Pit, the Devouring Maw...

...Nyssa Inverse stops eating.

In Tarkna, a Demon Lord wonders who turned off the heating.

A herd of flying pigs is seen over the skies of Neo-Edo.

A politician tells the truth on Galaxy-wide holonet.

Which should give some indication as to how unprecedented this is.

Before she can take in the full truth and horror of her situation-

THUD

-a geek swordsman, a seeker of justice with a really, really big baseball bat, a sorceress with her very own trademarked Evil Laugh, and a sardonic private eye land on her.

Ayan sits up and rubs his head. 'A dimensional portal. Oh good. *Those* always go well.'

Muffled cursing from the bottom of the heap.

'Nyssa-sama!' Dorry says, shocked. 'That's not nice!'

'Hey... If she's down there... what's she doing over there?'

Ayan follows Grant's somewhat confused finger.

'"Persons" Magazine,' he reads. 'Lethal Lovelies! Inside Scoop on Planet-Plundering Pirate Babes'.

'WAAAHHH!!! NYSSA-SAMA! We abandoned you here for fifteen minutes, and /already/ you've started plundering innocent planets!! How could we let this *happen?!*' Dorry wails.

More muffled cursing from the bottom of the heap.

'It's fast, even for her...' Ayan observes.

'And who's that other girl with you?' Leela says mockingly. 'Certainly have something for the more developed type, don't you? An inferiority complex, maybe? Then again, you have a lot to feel inferior about... not surprising, with such underdevelopment...'

'THAT'S NOT ME, SLUGHEADS!!' Nyssa finally screams.

Grant peers closer at the magazine. 'Shame. Brown hair suits you, Nyssa-san.'

'And what's wrong with my /normal/ hair colour?' Nyssa says dangerously.

'Red looks good on you, too.'

'You'd say that no matter what colour my hair was, wouldn't you?'

'Ummm...'

'YOU!!' Nyssa screams, much to Grant's relief.

Adric Xellos Alzari bows. 'At your service, as always.'

'Like /Tarkna/ you are!' Leela hisses. 'I don't /care/ what the hell you've got up your sleeve - get us back *now*!

'Ah, the lovely Miss McShane. A pleasure to see you again.'

'You /know/ her? You know /him/?' Dorry says incredulously.

'Oh yes. I know this pile of garbage.' Leela says through gritted teeth.

'This pile of garbage's been bugging me almost since day /1/!' Nyssa growls.

'We knew /that/...' Ayan observes.

'So what do you want /this/ time? And why are /we/ here? If you say "It's a secret", you are going to find out what it's like at ground zero of a Dragon Slave. For /real/, this time...'

'As I believe I mentioned the last time we met, I have a date with destiny. Your presence here was simply...' Adric searches for the words. 'Serendipitous.'

'Pardon?'

'He means it was a happy accident,' Ayan translates. 'Happy for who?'

'Wait a minute...' Nyssa interrupts. 'Saying you have a date with destiny gives away about as much as "It's a secret"!'

Adric blinks innocently. 'Does it? I thought I'd made myself perfectly clear. Ah, well... And besides, if you had not followed Nyssa, we would never have had the joy of seeing two sisters reunited.'

'Huh?'

'Leela's my sister.' Dorry explains.

'She's /your/ sister? Oh dear G-sama... /Two/ of you? You're /sisters/? Right, that's it. I'm chucking it in and joining a convent!' Nyssa announces. 'Having to deal with one of your jellyfish brain family is bad enough, but /two/ of you?'

Two dripping wet hulks of muscle burst out of a restaurant up the street and head for the usual suspects.

Behind them, someone yells 'Hey, come back! What about my damages?'

'I thought we weren't going to ask Nyssaias to pay!'

'Her, no. Those mooks, on the other hand, /won't/ blow up the planet if we ask...'

'Ah.'

Nyssa doesn't notice, still engrossed in her rant. '-And as for Leela, you could stuff a /horse/ down her cleavage, and there'd /still/ be room for an Oni!'

'Nyssa-sama! That's not just!' Dorry huffs. 'And as for /you/ two Minions of Evil... '

'Hey, are ya talking 'bout us?'

'Yeah! What'd we do?!'

'You have stolen food from the mouths of the hungry,' Dorry proclaims. 'For that... face PACIFIST EXPLOSION!'

Seconds later...

Two hulks of muscle lie unconscious in the street, and Leela has her hand over her eyes. 'Oh G-sama... Mother actually /taught/ it to her.'

'Now /this/ is why I'm never teaching her the Dragon Slave,' Nyssa announces.

Dorry blinks. 'But they were breaking the law, Nyssa-sama. They should be shown the true and glorious nature of Justice!' She strikes a pose.

'The thing is...' Grant says slowly, 'that dealing out Justice is bound to get us noticed by those who're supposed to deal it out.'

'Good! For they are fellow fighters in our cause!' Dorry strikes another dramatic pose.

'Somehow, I don't think they'd see it that way...' Ayan says. 'Not everyone is as enlightened as you, Dorry-san. Better make our getaway before anyone else arrives, so that we may fully research the nature of these seekers of Justice.'

'But-' Dorry begins.

'Fine with me! Let's move!' Nyssa turns to leave.

And is immediately confronted with a small army of hulks of muscle.

'Honestly,' Nyssa complains. 'Doesn't anyone say "HALT" anymore?!'

'We could...' one of the hulks offers.

Nyssa sighs. 'Now see, /this/ is why they call me the Killer of Minions... FIREBALL!!'

Nothing happens.

Nyssa blinks. 'It was working a minute ago...' She waves her hand experimentally.

'Having trouble again, Nyss?' Leela asks. 'Let a *true* sorceress handle these pathetic creatures...'

'I do /not/ get PMS!' Nyssa humphs.

'No one said you did,' Grant says in confusion.

'FREEZE BOLT!'

Nothing happens.

Leela blinks, then waves her hand again.

'FREEZE BOLT!'

Nothing continues to happen.

Nyssa snickers, and Leela shoots her a poisonous glare.

The hulks of muscle, baffled, unfrozen, and unburnt, decide "the hell with it", and advance on the motley group.

Adric sighs. 'Ah me...'

He whistles.

A shadow falls over the street.

A very /large/ shadow.

The hulks look up. And up. And up.

Mass gulping noises can be heard from the restauarnt. And mass praying.

Having a spaceship hovering overhead does tend to cause that kind of response...

'Alas, we cannot stay.' Adric says sadly. 'For we have an appointment elsewhere. And so, I fear, we must bid you adieu.'

The hulks look at each other, and silently agree to pursue a career in something much safer, like black hole diving. Right about now.

When the street clears...

'WHERE THE TARKNA DID YOU GET THAT THING?!'

'Exactly,' Adric says. 'Tarkna. I apologise for the delay, but I had to make sure our vessel had arrived safely.'

'Vessel?'

'Best to think of it as a vessel...' Adric says. 'All aboard...!'

Leela stops him. 'And what about getting us home?'

Adric contrives to look innocent. 'That, in all honesty, is something I do not have on my person at the present time...'

'But you know where to get one,' Ayan surmises.

'What kind of Player would I be if I didn't have a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card?' Adric asks rhetorically. 'I swear it by the Game. There is a way back.'

'And you'll only show us if we agree to travel with you,' Grant says flatly.

'Do you know, that hadn't occured to me? Now you mention it...'

Nyssa flings up her hands. 'All right, you little weasel, we'll go along with this. But get this - if you're trying to screw us around, I guarantee you'll find yourself on the receiving end of the biggest wrecking ball I can find!'

Grant slaps his head. ' 'Cuse me a moment.' A moment later, he's back, a copy of "Persons" magazine under his arm.

'Thought I might need a little light reading for the trip,' he explains.

Nyssa eyes the cover, still disturbed by her doppelganger. '/Must/ you...?'

'Not even a /little/ interested, Nyss?' Leela says. 'I must say, whomever she is, she *certainly* knows how to dress.'

'You call that a dress?! Look at her!! If she was wearing anything /less/, she'd make *you* look fully dressed!'

'As I was saying...' Leela says, smirking. 'Certainly knows how to use her assets - unlike some flat-chested sorceresses around here...'

'WHY YOU-!' And Nyssa proceeds to whack Leela one over the head with a mallet.

Then she blinks. 'Hey! Where'd /that/ come from?'

'Ooh, look at all the pretty stars...' Leela burbles.

'What /happened/ to me?'

'That, dear Nyssa-sama...'

'I know, I know! It's a /secret/! Now, unless you want /this/-' Nyssa pulls another mallet out of the air. '-embedded in your skull, we're getting out of here, pronto!'

'As you command, oh Minion Slayer,' Adric says, bowing deeply. 'As you command.'

Within minutes, the vessel is in planetary orbit...

...and the Watchers are ready to take on a whole new Universe.

The Universe doesn't know what's about to hit it.

---

End

---

With thanks to BKWillis, whose 'Black Magic Woman' was a major inspration for this, and who created Freeport - and set up certain of the events our heroes find themselves in - in 'Space Vixens!'.

Being the Slayers/Who fusion for the Dragon Lines/Space Vixens universe...

Ayan Tarklu - Frobisher. Dorothea di Gale McShane - Ace. Adric Xellos Alzari - Adric (Adric's the E-Space counterpart to Adria d'Alzaire - at least, that seems to be the way it's working. Hmm, wonder what'd happen if...) Nyssa Inverse - Nyssa. Leela di Gale McShane - Leela.

Story notes: Introducing the Watchers - in a very bad case of reunions, hulks of muscle, and mistaken identity...

---

Copyright 2001 Imran Inayat