'Repeat to yourself, it's just a show - I should really just relax.'

- Love Theme From Mystery Science Theatre 3000

The USS Compromise, NC-2604-Z, pottered along in its usual uncertain way. If the shocking pink starship's course was drawn on paper, it would look not unsimilar to an MC Escher-style drawing done by a three-year-old, rather than the neat triangle it was meant to resemble.

This is normal.

The ship was only a few months old, but it had already been the subject of much speculation, consideration, and frustration.

This is also normal.

The reason being, mainly, that the crew of said USS Compromise NC-2604-Z were...well...shall I say...unsuitable for their positions.

The long-term effects of this remain to be seen, but it's pretty much cut and dried that they bloody well aren't normal, and just as well...

Who would think of challenging an omnipotent being to a drinking contest?

Or of infecting the Borg with the deadly computer program Windows 95?

Or, indeed, of turning the ship into a giant pink robot?

Only one lot of people.

In a dark time, an unfriendly universe, there is evil everywhere. No escape, no mercy, no understanding. And definitely no second chances. But you can always rely on one lot of people...

...to fuck it all up.

CMO Graham Henstock wandered into 10-Foreplay. He was bored. All the females on board seemed to be avoiding him lately...probably because of the obscene messages he'd been posting on the ship-wide E-mail.[1]

The bar was quiet. In one corner, the Counsellor and First Officer were giggling over something Ratbat had found in a catalogue, while in another, the Security Chief was demonstrating the effectiveness of her new interrogation technique to one of her ensigns.[2]

Graham wandered over to the bar, where Emma the Techie was sitting.

'Piss off, evil bastard,' she said to him before he even opened his mouth.

'Eh? What's up?'

She glared. 'The electric can-opener? Really, Graham. That's quite off.'

'Oh, so the egg-whisk wasn't?'

The Transporter Chief snorted and stalked out.[3]

Graham turned to Emma the Klingon. 'I'll have a double Guinness.' For the first time, he noticed the young woman who was standing slightly behind the Klingon. 'Well, helloooo gorgeous! And what's a good-looking girl like you doing in a place like this?'

Emma placed a drink in front of him with a scowl. 'Hands off, Graham.'

Graham chuckled. 'Oh, surely not! Come on, what's your name?'

'Brooke.'

'Brooke, eh?' He gave a leer, which is the Graham equivalent of an appreciative wink. 'So, where did you get a lovely name like that?'

She looked exasperated. 'From my birth certificate!'

'How nice. Like a drink?'

In the corner, Ratbat and Leila glanced over. 'Look! Graham's trying to chat up Brooke!' the Counsellor announced.

The two heads moved closer together, in close discussion.

Graham put a drink in front of her. 'Go on, try it.'

Brooke looked at it, with trepidation on her face. 'What is it?'

'It's a Black B-52 Roulette Slammer Nipple. My speciality.'

The glass was approximately half full, with six different colours of liquid all carefully layered. Brooke was watching it carefully, as though it might explode.

'Go on,' said Graham. 'You'll like it!'

As if from nowhere, a hand reached out and grabbed the glass. 'Cheers, Graham! Bottoms up!' Catering Officer Mark Kettle downed the drink in one gulp. Brooke watched with interest as his eyes turned yellow and steam poured from his ears. 'Ah! That's the stuff!' He turned, staggered, and fell over.

Ruth watched the display with interest. 'What's in that?' she asked, as Mark lay there, bubbling.

'Trade secret.' Graham turned back to Brooke. 'So. Fancy coming back to my quarters for a physical?'

Brooke looked nonplussed. 'But I'm not here for Starfleet purposes. I'm a civilian. I only came here...'

'Oh, I don't mind about that. Everyone needs a physical.' He moved closer to her. 'I'll use extra jelly if you like!' He waggled his eyebrows.

Emma, sensing that Brooke was getting out of her depth, moved in. 'Graham, you really should leave her alone. She's...'

'A young woman who needs my expert medical assistance!' Graham licked his lips.

Terri walked in. 'Hello, Emma. Graham. Brooke.'

Graham shushed her. 'So, Brooke. How long is it since your last complete medical examination?' He put his arm around the young woman. 'It can be very foolish to skip check-ups.'

'Graham,' said Terri in her most dangerous voice. 'What exactly are you planning on doing with my daughter?'

Graham's smile stayed where it was, but the rest of his face fell a mile.[4] 'Whafuh?'

'Thankyou, Mum. He was beginning to get a bit worrying.'

Graham was rather in a state of shock. 'You've got a daughter?'

'Of course. Didn't you see the resemblance?'

Even in his fevered state of mind, Graham had to admit that Verdæseans[5] aren't as common as all the other types of people in the universe. 'Gggghhhhh...' he said.

'CMO Graham Charles Perv-buns Henstock, meet Brooke Midori O'Ferez,' announced Terri.

In the corner, where the First Officer and Counsellor had been watching, Leila sighed. Ratbat chuckled evilly. 'Pay up! Three strips of latinum!'

Ruth stepped over Mark. 'I didn't know you had a daughter.'

'Neither did Graham!' Terri giggled. 'She's about...ooh, I'd say you're around thirty, aren't you love?'

Brooke nodded. 'Thirty two.'

'You had a child at age four hundred and sixty? Isn't that a bit old?' Ruth asked incredulously.

'Four sixty five, actually. And no, it isn't.' Terri didn't like attention being brought to her age.

A speaker gave a 'boop'. 'Captain to all bridge personnel. Meeting, obs lounge, ten minutes.' There was a muffled discussion. 'Yes of course they'll understand that! Honestly, Robyn, they're not as stupid as you think they are.' More discussion. 'Graham doesn't count!' Mutter, mutter. 'And Colleen. And Ruth. Oh, shut up!'

'Right. Emma, get Graham a whisky. He needs to be operational again in ten minutes,' ordered Terri.

Graham was the colour of cotton-wool, and was muttering vaguely about not feeling like this since June 23rd 1995.[6]

Ratbat and Leila strolled out of their corner booth. 'Wonder what Captain Fancy-Pants wants us to do,' the chiropteran said.

'Are you referring to those boxer shorts?' asked Leila.

'The James Bond ones? Yeah. Well stylish!' Ratbat had given Euan some James Bond boxer shorts for his two hundredth birthday.

'Umm.' Leila gestured vaguely at Mark, who was still prone. 'Is he OK?'

Emma looked. 'Oh, he'll be fine. Won't be able to see properly for a week, but no lasting effects.'

The party wandered from the bar.

Euan was feeling very big. So far, there hadn't been one interruption or jeering comment from any of the assembled crew. This was because the assembled crew consisted of Parker, but there's no need to spoil a good feeling.

The door slid open to reveal Terri, Colleen, Ruth, Graham, and Ratbat. A minute later, Leila, Bobbi and Ksenia joined them. Callum from Stellar Cartography slunk in last of all, as he wasn't really meant to be there.

'OK, people, we've got to get an away team together to go down to this planet. There's a bit of a fight going on between the Federation settlers and some Bajoran refugees.' He smiled. No interruptions so far. 'I think the whole business started with something a Bajoran said about a Federation man's mother. This is likely to be quite a delicate mission, so I only want those of you who can cope with tricky situations. This means you stay behind, Graham.'

The CMO pouted. 'Why?'

'You have no skill dealing with delicate situations, as shown by your reaction to Brooke O'Ferez.'

'Wha..? How did you know about that?'

Euan grinned. 'We've been having bets on it for two days now.'

The assembled crew chortled, at Graham's expense for once.

'Anyway,' the Captain continued. 'I want volunteers.'

There was a murmur of discussion. Bobbi put her hand up. 'I want to go. I think Chaedy can cope with everything down in Engineering.'

Euan nodded.

'Can I go too?' asked Leila.

'Why do you want to go?'

She looked exasperated. 'Because I never get to go on away missions, and life here on the Compromise can get really boring!!! And wouldn't I be useful in handling the arguments?'

Euan took an involuntary step backwards. He'd never seen Leila like this. 'Oh, yes, of course, no problem...'

'I think I'd be invaluable,' Ruth piped up. 'Why don't I get a couple of my goldies and join the rest of you in the shuttlebay?'

'Er, we need another command-level person to go,' Euan faltered.

Colleen was staring intently at the inside of her glasses.

'Right! Thankyou for volunteering, Lieutenant Hick.' Euan rubbed his hands together briskly. 'OK, everyone. Have a nice trip.' He ran out of the room before Colleen could work out what he'd done.

The Duff was ready to go. Leila and Bobbi were piloting it, which Ruth was sulking about, and Colleen still hadn't quite worked out what was happening. She sat between two of Ruth's pet security officers, Lieutenant Leuning and Ensign Sword.

The craft slowly inched forward and exited the bay.[7] The starfield was an amazing spectrum of colours. A nearby gas nebula was throwing out multicoloured neutrino particles which coloured everything in sight.

There was no rush as the Duff drifted towards the planet. All the crew were gazing at the amazing beauty that was around them. Better than a rainbow, better than fireworks, was the display put on purely by the elements.

Once the craft was in orbit of the planet, the aesthetic contemplation was abruptly ended. Leila had forgotten how to put the craft in parking orbit, and an argument soon broke out about certain people's unsuitability for the job they'd been given.

In a while, the Compromise away team finally beamed down to the planet, with phasers on stun, as JTK would say.[8]

The planet was a bare, rocky promontory with no sign of life or any inhabitants.

'All right, where is everyone?' said Ruth impatiently. She was all ready to do battle, and no one to do battle with made her edgy.

Bobbi pointed. Not far from where they'd landed was the mouth of a large cave. 'According to the computer records, this settlement is entirely subterranean,' she said, anxious to show off her five-syllable word. 'That's why there's so much trouble, because there's nowhere for the different parties to go off to.'

Ruth extracted an enormous phaser rifle from a holster that looked too small for it. 'Let's go, men!'

There was silence.

'Let's go, women!'

'Better!' said Leila as the team made their way to the cave.

The cave itself had started off as a natural formation, but Federation settlers had carved and chiselled their way around the opening until it was twice as high as a tall human, and wide enough to fit six abreast.[9] The tunnel sloped gently downward, and was lit by phosphorescent crystals set into the walls.

As the party made their way down, the air got warmer, and signs of civilisation began to appear. When a McDonalds burger wrapper was seen lying at the side of the tunnel, the team knew that the settlement couldn't be far away.

The tunnel suddenly gave way into a huge cavern. In all their experience with concert halls and theatres, neither Bobbi nor Leila had ever seen anything as big as this. A two-hundred metre-high ceiling hung over the settlement, which was as large as the capital city on the Klingon Homeworld. A lake occupied a position of prominence, and veins of quartz in the roof allowed light to filter down, with the added bonus that in places it split the light into myriad tiny rainbows.

Small children were playing in the street as the six officers walked around the city. Nobody older than twelve was anywhere to be seen. Finally Ruth got impatient.

'Hello,' she said to a small boy who was playing with a spinning top.

He gave her grubby-faced stare. 'Hello. Is that a real gun?'

Ruth put her phaser rifle behind her back. 'Yes, it is. Where is everyone?'

'Can it kill people?' the child asked.

'Well, yes, I suppose it can, but look...'

'My Daddy says that guns are the root of all evil in the world. He says that if guns didn't exist, then we'd all be happy.' He looked proud of himself. 'My Daddy is a very clever man.'

'That's nice,' Ruth said. 'Where is your Daddy? I'd like to ask him...'

The boy began methodically to pick his nose. 'No one has ever argued with my Daddy. He's very big. He's bigger than you.' The finger was withdrawn and inspected. 'I bet he could beat you even if you did have a gun.'

Ruth was getting frustrated. 'Now, I'd like to see your Daddy...'

'You'd better not say anything to upset my Daddy, or he'll be very angry. When my Daddy gets angry, we all have to go out of the room. I reckon...'

'NOW LISTEN YOU LITTLE SQUIRT, TELL US WHERE THIS SUPER DADDY OF YOURS IS OR I'LL RIP OFF YOUR HEAD AND SPIT DOWN YOUR NECK!!!!!'

There was a shocked silence.

Everyone stared at the Counsellor.

Ruth realised her mouth was open, and shut it. 'I didn't think that was in the Starfleet Counsellor's Manual.'

Leila shrugged. 'I make up my own manual.'

The child, however, was grinning. 'You'll like my Daddy!' he proclaimed proudly.

The team was lead to a small hut. 'Hellooo!' called Bobbi.

'What do you want?' A grumpy voice came from within.

'These people want to see you, Daddy!' The small boy was hopping from one foot to another in excitement.

A gnarled old man came from inside the hut. 'Oh yes? And who might you lot be?'

Bobbi stepped forward. 'We come from the USS Compromise, sir, and we've been instructed to help in the dispute between the Federation and the Bajoran refugees. Would you be able to help us?'

'They've got guns Daddy! And that one gave me the most brilliant curse I've heard for ages!' The little boy was barely able to contain his excitement.

The old man sighed. 'OK, you lot come with me.' He pointed inside the hut. 'You, go and clean up your room!'

The child pouted. 'Ooaaawww, Dad!'

'Go on! It's a disgrace.'

The boy wandered inside despondently.

The team were lead to another hut. 'This is where the Federation Head-Man lives,' the old man said. 'The Bajoran refugees live over the other side of the lake.'

The Head-Man came to the door. 'Ah, the Compromise team. My name's Slartibartfast.'

Colleen, Ruth, and Nic stared with open mouths. 'What?'

'It's not my fault, my parents were avid...'

'...Douglas Adams fans, right?' finished Leila.

He nodded. 'My sister was worse off. Her name's Dentarthurdent.'[10]

Leila, Bobbi and Cathie were mugging and giggling like idiots.

'Anyway, we need you to help us. The Bajorans are going quite beyond the realms of common decency.' He ushered them into his hut. 'It all started when the Bajoran group leader, Tupai, said that my mother was a great big elephant jobbie...' He went on to outline a history of insults and no-one talking to anyone else, the result of which was window-breaking, people being pelted with fruit, and much insulting graffiti.

'...I mean, it's not all the Bajoran's faults. Last week I caught a girl painting "The Prophets are all Wankers" on a wall, but what can I do?'

Ruth sat down. 'We need to get both sides of the argument together, and then you bring out photon torpedoes and blow them all into oblivion...' Ruth broke off as Nic sat on her head.

'Please, don't mind Ruth. She thinks that the solution to everything is either a phaser or a photon torpedo.' Nic apologised.

'Or a knife between the eyes!' piped Ruth's voice from under Nic's bottom.

Colleen sat up. 'I think...' she began.

Everyone sat with bated breath.

'I think you should talk.'

Slartibartfast sighed. 'We've tried, but the Bajorans can be incredibly pig-headed about these things.'

'OK,' said Bobbi. 'We'll organise it, how's that? We'll send a neutral invitation to this Tikus...'

'Tupai.'

'Sorry, Tupai, and tell him that we all want to find a solution to these misunderstandings. Do you think he'll listen?'

'Well, Tupai can be a terribly irritable person, particularly if you get her gender wrong.'

Bobbi went scarlet, and went to hide in a corner.

'But if we do get her gender right, will it work?' asked Leila.

Slartibartfast shrugged. 'It might.'

The Bajoran group leader was a rough-looking woman in her early thirties, and her aide was a scrawny man with a squint and a huge overcoat.

'Marmot, I hope you're ready if things get difficult,' she said to him.

He nodded.

The negotiation table had been set up in a picnic ground on the banks of the lake, which was the closest thing there was to neutral ground. Slartibartfast sat opposite Tupai, with an expression of guarded suspicion on his face. In between the two was the Counsellor, as referee. Bobbi still hadn't got over the shame of getting something wrong, and was standing next to Ruth with her back turned.

'Right, people, let's have a good clean fi...discussion. Now, Mr Slartibartfast will put forward his case first, then Ms Tupai can have her say, agreed?' The two parties nodded. 'OK, Slartibartfast, it's all yours.'

The federation man stood up. 'OK...'

Not long into his recitation of what the Bajorans had done wrong, a spectator threw an egg.

'Right! Who did that?' Leila stood up and surveyed the group.

'Bloody biased ref!' jeered a voice from the crowd which had gathered.

Leila opened her mouth to silence the heckler, but was hit with a pear. 'Right! That does it! I declare the Bajoran spectators are not sensible enough to be here, and they get...' She fished in her pocket. '...a red card! Off the field for the rest of the match, thankyou!'

Tupai pushed back her chair in disgust. 'You are biased! Are we going to let these Federation morons run our lives?'

The Bajoran part of the assembled crowd gave a great cheer.

'Right! let's sweep the infection away!'

Another cheer.

'Down with the Federation!' bellowed Marmot.

Leila waved her arms. 'This is not a debate! This is anarchy!'

'Up with anarchy!' yelled a Bajoran. Soon the whole crowd took up the cry.

'OI!!!! SHUT UP!!!!!' Ruth's considerable voice roared out. She shot her rifle at the sky to get the attention of the crowd. This worked perfectly, except that there was rock where the sky should have been. A large chunk of the ceiling fell, landing neatly on Bobbi's head. She collapsed without a word.

'Oops,' said Ruth.

Nic and Cathie went to investigate.

'Now listen!' Ruth shouted at the crowd. 'You're acting like children! No, you're acting worse than children! You're acting like footballers!!!! Now if you want to get everything sorted out and get on with your lives, you're going to have to talk out your differences! So get on with it!'

There was shocked silence for a minute, then Tupai and Marmot slowly sat down again.

'Thankyou, Ruth,' Leila said. 'Now, Mr Slartibartfast, where were you?'

The debate continued, while the rest of the team clustered around Bobbi.

'I don't think she should stay here,' said Nic, who was trained as medical personnel as well as security. 'Her pulse is very weak, and I don't like the look of that head.' Blood was flowing, dark and warm, from a deep gash in Bobbi's scalp.

'OK, why don't we beam up to the Duff and get Emma the Techie to beam her straight to sickbay from there?' Colleen suggested.

Nic nodded. 'I'll go with her. The rest of you stay here to finish sorting this out.'

She contacted the Duff's computer, and was soon gone.

The argument continued.

Graham, for once, was doing his job when Leila and Ruth walked into sickbay. Bobbi was on one of the biobeds, hooked up to more tubes and wires than an electric ant-farm.

'Hello, what's wrong with her?' asked Leila, concerned.

Graham shrugged. 'Coma. Her skull was fractured, and I can't actually work out how much damage was done to her brain until she wakes up.'

Ruth was pale. 'I didn't mean it! I just wanted all those people to shut up!'

Leila patted her head. 'Ruth, no one is blaming you. It was an accident, that's all.'

'Did you get the problem all sorted out?' asked Graham.

'Yes, it's fine. Are you sure nothing can be done?' Leila replied.

Graham looked helpless. 'I can't do anything, and Ksenia says that sleep is the best thing for her right now. All we can do is wait till she wakes up.' If she wakes up, he added privately.

The McMillans were standing beside Bobbi's bed looking worried.

'I don't know if she...'

'...will wake up at all,' the pair announced. 'Even with all our tech...'

'...nology, comas are still tricky things.'

Graham, who was still a little disoriented from his encounter with Brooke, found this too confusing and hustled them from the room.

'Are they right, Graham?' Ruth asked in a subdued voice. 'Will Bobbi wake up or not?'

Graham twisted his hands together. 'I don't know! Like Mel...Anth... like they said, comas are tricky things!'

Leila led the Security Chief from the room.

Bobbi lay still, her eyelids twitching occasionally.

'What are you dreaming about?' Graham asked quietly.

Ensign Wylie came in with a fresh batch of hypos.

'Just look at that,' Graham said, pointing. 'She's definitely in a heightened dream state. They used to believe that a coma was a battle between good and evil forces for a person's soul.'

'They who?' asked Nicole.

Graham shrugged. 'Just They. You know - anyone.'

There was darkness - a darkness that denied the existence of anything even resembling light.

She stood, although she could feel nothing to stand on. There was no feeling, no sight, no sound. If there was such a state as non-being, this was it.

And then it was there.

ROBYN MICHELE SCHOLES?

'Yes?'

I HAVE TO ASK YOU THE QUESTION. WHAT JUSTIFIES YOUR EXISTENCE?

She was perplexed. 'Am I dead?'

THE ANSWER TO THAT IS SOMEWHERE BETWEEN YES AND NO.

'Yes, but look, either I'm dead or I'm alive. There's no such thing as un-dead...' She trailed off. All those episodes of the X-Files were coming back. 'At least, I don't think there's any such thing as un-dead. Where am I?'

YOUR CORPOREAL SELF IS BACK ON YOUR SHIP. BUT YOU, AS IN YOUR ESSENCE AND BEING, ARE... OUT OF TIME AND SPACE. YOU ARE HERE WITH ME, AND YOU EXIST HERE WITH ME.

'Do I still exist back on the Compromise?'

The figure, which seemed to consist entirely of a large grey robe, nodded. FOR THE MOMENT, YOU EXIST IN BOTH. BUT THAT MAY CHANGE.

'Eh?' Bobbi was startled. 'You mean you might be going to kill me?'

YOU MAY MAKE IT NECESSARY FOR ME TO KILL YOU. I WILL AGAIN ASK YOU THE QUESTION. WHAT JUSTIFIES YOUR EXISTENCE?

'Hang on, who are you? Are you just Graham in a funny cloak, or what? Why should I justify myself to you?'

I AM THE ULTIMATE REALITY. TO SOME, I AM CALLED DEATH.

'You can't be Death. Death is an anthropomorphic personification representing the natural function which is the cessation of life,' Bobbi paused to breathe and untie her tongue. 'And he doesn't look like you.'

The robe sagged. WHAT'S THE PROBLEM? SHOULD I LOOK LIKE JEREMY IRONS OR PIERCE BROSNON OR SOMETHING?

Bobbi gave a hopeful smile.[11] 'No, I just thought that Death was a two-metre tall skeleton who wore a black robe and had bright blue eyes. He rides a white horse.' Anxious to give more information, she added, 'He's called Binky.'

WHAT? DEATH IS CALLED BINKY WHERE YOU COME FROM?

'No, no, no. The horse is called Binky.'

As far as is possible, the robe looked puzzled. BINKY? BUGGER THAT. NO STYLE AT ALL, THAT NAME. ANYWAY, WE'RE NOT HERE TO DISCUSS WHAT I LOOK LIKE. I WANT YOU TO JUSTIFY YOUR EXISTENCE. YOU HAVE LIVED FOR FIVE-HUNDRED YEARS, AND THAT IS NO MEAN FEAT, BUT WHAT EXACTLY HAVE YOU DONE WITH YOUR LIFE?

Bobbi was perplexed, but took refuge in an old saying. 'Well, I suppose I'm the sum of all my experiences. Is that OK?'

The robe nodded. VERY GOOD. NOW, WHICH EXPERIENCES HAVE MADE YOU WHAT YOU ARE? WE NEED TO KNOW THIS TO SEE IF YOU ARE WORTHWHILE. The hood of the robe moved closer to Bobbi's face. THINK OF THIS AS AN UNUSUAL TYPE OF AUDIT.

She was twenty-two. Not many people feel old at age twenty-two, but Bobbi Scholes was one of them.

She sat at the bar. Hot winds blew across the harsh desert sands and seemed to be dumping all their heat on her. There was a cat chasing the tumbleweeds across the sandy floor, but even that was done with a listless lack of energy.

'And another, please,' she said to the figure behind the bar.

'Really, Bobbi, that's your fifth Bourbon and Coke so far! Are you trying to start a trend?' The barmaid shook her head. Her moth-eaten feather boa slipped uselessly to the floor. 'It'll never catch on, you mark my words.'

Bobbi sighed. 'Just hand it over, Leila. I need it.' She cupped her chin in a despondent hand. 'Do you know how difficult it is to be a lone female gunslinger in a male-dominated society?'

Leila gave an unladylike snort. 'You're not a lone female gunslinger in a male-dominated society, you're a waitress!' She sighed and bent to pick up her boa. There was a creak of whalebone. 'At least you don't have to be a bar-room floozy. I don't think I can stand this bloody corset for much longer.'

Bobbi slurped at her drink. 'I know, but I'm beginning to think that waitressing isn't all I want to do with my life, you know? Like there's something more out there?'

'You mean you want to be a lone female gunslinger in a male-dominated society?'

'Why not?' Bobbi plunked her glass down with unnecessary force. 'It's gotta be better than this dive!' She got up and marched out.

In the street, the heat was much worse. The sun beat down on her unprotected head...

WHAT HAS THIS GOT TO DO WITH JUSTIFYING YOUR EXISTENCE?

Bobbi jumped. She was back in the void. 'Huh? I'm building up to it! This is just a few days before one of the most important days in my life. It defined everything that happened after it.'

OH. ALL RIGHT. SORRY FOR THE INTERRUPTION.

The sun beat down on her unprotected head, like a hammer on an anvil. Speaking of hammers and anvils, there was the sound of work coming out of the nearby blacksmith's.

She stood in the doorway. 'What's happened this time?'

Euan looked up from watching the proceedings. 'Oh, hello Robyn. You see, Graham's horse was just lying there, not doing anything, and he wanted it to move, and he kind of kicked it, and then...got stuck.'

Graham was currently half hopping, half hanging out of the horse's rear.

'Oh dear. Didn't anyone ever warn you about this?' Bobbi asked.

The smith was applying grease to Graham's boot. 'Sorry, pardner, but it's no use. It's gonna to have to come off.'

'Come off? Nooooo!!!!' Graham howled dramatiTerri. 'It's a new pair of boots!'

His foot was gradually eased out of the boot.

'Right,' said the blacksmith. 'Now maybe we can sort out this here crittur.'

Taking hold of the boot, the burly man gently worked it up and down until it slowly plopped out. The horse looked a little more comfortable.

'Er. Hello, Bobbi,' Graham said, dusting off his trousers. 'Hey, you know that cattle rustler we ran into the other day?'

'Who, Wild Bill Hiccup?'

'Yeah. He was really pissed off that you didn't let him at Ratbat, and now he wants you!' Graham seemed to find this terribly amusing.

'Well, of course I didn't let him at Ratbat! Not even you've succeeded with her so far, and she says she's 332 years old. Pretty good, eh? But what do you mean by he wants me?'

'He wants to shoot you.'

Bobbi's jaw dropped. 'Wha...? Why?'

'Because you wouldn't let him at Ratbat, of course!' Graham wiped his boot and put it back on.

The smith put an arm around Bobbi's shoulders. 'Listen, ma'am. I do a great deal in headstones. Would ya like to come and pick one out now?'

Bobbi pulled herself together. 'I don't think so, thanks Jason.' She set her jaw. 'I'm going to fight him, and I'm going to win.'

Euan looked shocked. 'You what? But Bill Hiccup is the greatest gunslinger around here! How are you going to beat him?'

Bobbi shrugged. 'Easy. I'll cheat.'

Three disapproving stares were stared.

'Oh, all right, I'll play fair. But if I get killed, it's all your faults!'

She stood back-to-back with him. Well, head-to-back, at least. He was a very tall man. Why, she thought, have I let myself into this?

Terri and Leila stood to one side, looking uncomfortable. Not surprising, really; there'd never been a male/female duel in the street before, and they weren't sure who to cheer.

Graham and Euan stood together looking apprehensive. This wasn't surprising either, really, as Wild Bill Hiccup was one of the most deadly gunslingers in the country. Ratbat stood a little apart, and gave Bobbi a thumbs-up as she looked.

This was it.

'One.' They took a pace.

'Two.'

'Three.'

'Four.'

'Five.'

'Six...'

'Seven!'

They turned. Hiccup's gun was out of its holster and fired before Bobbi even got her balance. She felt the wind as the bullet passed about six inches over her head. For perhaps the first time in her life, she blessed the genes that had made her 5'5”. In turn, she drew her own weapon, carefully, and fired.

He fell.

AND IS THAT IT?

Bobbi jumped. She wasn't used to skipping from the past into the present. 'Well, yes! That's was a pretty important moment in my existence, thank you very much!' She stuck out her lip. 'If you don't think it's any good, just say so.'

VERY WELL. WHAT YOU HAVE JUST SHOWN ME MERELY PROVES THAT YOU ARE STILL HANGING AROUND WITH THE SAME PEOPLE YOU HAVE DONE FOR THE PAST FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS.

'Crap I have! After this bit I lost contact with them for...about a hundred years!'

REALLY? The hood moved closer to her face. WHY DID YOU JOIN UP WITH THEM AGAIN?

Bobbi gave a rueful smile. 'It wasn't exactly by choice, if that's what you mean. You see, I was doing some tech work for a Canberra Theatre Group...'

Bobbi slid down the ladder for the fifteenth time. The light was still in the wrong place. She paused at the bottom to wipe her face.

'Bobbi?' the director walked in.

'Yeah?' It was three o'clock in the morning, and she was sick of this bloody spot-light.

'Why don't you leave it here? I've got you an assistant for tomorrow. He's going to start at 9am, so you can take the morning off.'

Bobbi sighed gratefully, and went to go and sleep in the bio-box.

At about ten the next morning she was awakened by the sounds of a heated argument going on.

'I said a green gel Euan! No, that's a spanner! Look, it's just there by your knee.'

She poked her head out the box's window.

'Yes, that's a green gel! Finally!'

The scaffolding was occupied by an individual in black jeans and t-shirt with a huge red beard and thick glasses. He was currently yelling at another black-clad red-haired bespectacled person who was scrabbling around in a sea of spare lights.

Oh, no.

Bobbi walked down the steps carefully.

'No, I said the wire-cutters! Thankyou!' The individual on the scaffolding looked up. 'Ah, you'd be the stage-manager. I'm...' he trailed off.

'Oh, shit,' she said. 'It is you.'

The poor person on the ground looked around. 'Wha...?'

Euan, Graham and Bobbi looked at each other.

'Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you two here,' she said finally.

It was three months later. The three remaining Recycled Virgins had teamed up with On a Whim Theatre Company and were putting on a show, which Euan had the star role in.[12]

The unlikely cast members were sitting around playing cards one day when they should have been rehearsing, when the director came in.

'Hello, people!' she beamed. 'You know how I wanted something written for the first half? Well, Ratti here's agreed to do it for us!'

Bobbi, Euan and Graham turned around slowly, as though their heads were on stalks.

In an elaborate green outfit, complete with boots to disguise her lack of height, was Urac Sigma.

The quartet was back together.

For good, this time.

The hood nodded. AND WAS IT FOR GOOD?

'Well,' Bobbi stopped to think. 'I suppose...yes, really.'

The robe shrugged. I'M RATHER OF THE OPINION THAT THESE PEOPLE ARE JUST BIPEDAL MISFITS LIKE THE REST OF YOUR SPECIES.

Bobbi winced. 'I've heard that before.'

WHEN WERE YOU BEING A BIPEDAL MISFIT?

'It was 2366.'

There was a pause.

AND?

'Well, not much happened. We were just mucking around as usual. It was one of Euan's ideas. A picnic at Kambah adventure playground.'

I SEE.

It was just like Euan to choose the one day of the year that it was going to be 35°C to have a picnic, but everyone was very good about it. Euan himself turned up wearing long black jeans and a black t-shirt, which just went to show that he's got no idea about heat reflection.

She sat in the shade of a rather scrawny tree, wearing a big floppy hat. As she watched, Ratbat learnt the folly of freezing a bottle of Coke and then trying to open it before it's thawed.[13]

The McMillan sisters were (unsuccessfully) trying not to spill a packet of Lolly-Gobble Bliss-Bombs. As they poured the unspilt ones back into the box, Euan bounced around the table. 'Let's go and PLAY!' he bellowed.

Everyone sprinted off.

Euan was soon occupied with dangling from the flying-fox by one knee holding his toy gun and pretending to be James Bond. At the other side of the playground, an attempt was being made on the How-Many-People-On-One-See-Saw World Record. When they'd got to nine, there was an unpromising creaking sound, at which everyone leapt off.

It turned out that Louise and the McMillans had all brought two packets of water bombs each, Ruth had brought a Super-Soaker Water-pistol, and Leila and Ratbat both had 44-Magnum water arsenals. Euan was the desired target.

Bobbi wandered away from the action, where Euan had climbed to the top of the tree-house to escape the drenching. At four-hundred and ninety three, she was feeling just a little too old to be involved in the goings-on. Well, she added in the privacy of her own mind, she mightn't have been the oldest person around - Ratbat was pushing eight hundred and three - but she was possibly the least childish.

Euan, doing his best Indiana Jones impression, took a flying leap and caught a tree-branch, from which he swung through the air and landed in the middle of an ornamental duck-lake.[14] This was much to his disgust, not to mention that of the ducks. On the bank, his assailants were dancing up and down, hooting with glee.

As Bobbi walked around a group of huge trees, she saw Colleen and Ace wander up. They'd now been engaged for one or three years, and Bobbi had to admit that affianced life seemed to be agreeing with Colleen. 'Hello,' Bobbi said with a washed out smile.

'Hi,' said Ace, flicking the hair out of his eyes. 'How's it going?'

Bobbi gave a shrug. 'Not much. I think Euan's going to need to borrow some clean clothes.' She gestured to where Euan had crawled out of the lake and was hugging everybody, covering them with mud and duckweed.

Colleen gave a grin. 'I think we should hose him down a bit, then he can run around and dry off.'

'Anyway, we just came to say toodle-oo. We're off to a cocktail party the Starfleet Diplomatic Service are giving,' Ace announced.

'It's specially for him,' Colleen added, giving her intended a playful dig in the ribs.

Ace looked bashful. 'Oh, go on, Colleen, you know I hate drawing attention to what I do.'

'He single-handedly prevented a war with the Gurglebloxians,' Colleen put in.

'Tish, pshaw, nonsense!' he said. The two laughed.

Bobbi smiled. 'OK, have fun!' she said. As the pair wandered off hand in hand, she gave a sigh. 'What a guy!'

She recommenced her strolling. Colleen was an interesting phenomenon. Most of the others of their circle of friends were still, mentally if not chronologically, in their early twenties, except Euan who would be permanently ten. Colleen, however, had now been engaged for a number of years, and was looking more clucky than Bobbi ever had.

Euan had got rid of most of the duckweed. Leila, Ratbat, and Fiona were seated in tyre-swings, and the McMillans were taking it in turns to push them. The result was similar to dodgem-cars without steering-wheels.

A tall grey-haired man walked up to her. 'Hello. Are you Robyn Scholes?'

'Herself. What's up?'

The man held out a hand. 'I am Geoff Page. You might remember me from Narrabundah College in the 1990s.'

'Oh, of course,' she said, shaking the proffered hand. 'Sir Geoffrey Page, OBE, yes?'

He nodded. 'Admiral Sir Geoff, now. I've been a member of the Narrabundah Starfleet for about fifteen years now.'

'That's nice,' Bobbi said, basiTerri for the sake of filling up a blank in the conversation.

'Anyway, I have a very interesting proposition for yourself and the rest of theEvil Bunnies. I think you might be quite impressed with it.'

SO WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?

'Well, we all joined Starfleet, and about six years later we got the Compromise.

WHY SO LONG?

Bobbi smiled wryly. 'Euan kept failing astrophysics, and Leila failed basic cookery twice. But eventually they got it sorted out.'

HOW?

'Well, Leila did Euan's astrophysics, and he did her cookery.'

IS THAT LEGAL?

'Not quite, but it worked, and we haven't actually done any damage yet, so I don't think it actually matters.'

AND YOU? WHAT CONTRIBUTION DID YOU MAKE?

Bobbi drew herself up to her full height, which would have been more impressive if she'd had more height to draw herself up to. 'I made a huge contribution! I've kept the bloody ship working for two years, I froze the Borg so we could get the wig back, I stop Andrea from throwing Chaedy out the nearest airlock, and I keep everybody sane!!! How easy do you think it is to be the only sensible person on board a ship of crazies?' She grabbed the robe by the lapels, and was shouting into the empty hood. 'It's not like I have a position of command or anything, but I act as the Mum of everybody on that bloody vessel! If that's not a worthwhile pastime, I don't know what is!'

The grey robe stood still for a moment, then nodded slowly. AGREED.

Bobbi paused to take stock. 'What?'

I AGREE. IT MUST BE VERY DIFFICULT TO COPE WITH PEOPLE LIKE THAT. MY HEARTIEST CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE PASSED THE EVALUATION.

Bobbi was dumbfounded. 'You mean I can go?'

The hood moved closer to her face. NOT EXACTLY.

Ksenia walked in to sickbay. 'How is she?'

Graham rubbed his eyes. 'No change. She's still out like a light.'

Ksenia ran her tricorder over Bobbi. 'Well, the scan says her vital signs are fluctuating quite considerably, and I'd say she's still dreaming. Look at that rapid eye motion.'

Bobbi's eyelids were twitching occasionally.

Graham nodded. 'I just wish there was something we could do.'

'You've been friends a long time, haven't you?'

He gave a half smile. 'Longer than you'd believe.'

Kseia gave him an encouraging pat. 'Yes?'

'Well,' he began. 'It all started in 1895, in Tombstone...'

Ratbat stared out of her window. She was still miserable. She remembered the years before she'd met the Recycled Virgins and their two unlikely groupies. The three hundred years that had passed before she got to Tombstone seemed quite insignificant with the time that came afterwards. She'd found stability, happiness, and good times, as well as the unconditional, refreshing friendship of the people who had become closer to her than family.

The door slid open and the Counsellor came in.

'It wouldn't be the same without Bobbi,' Ratbat said to herself.

Leila put an arm around the First Officer. 'Don't worry,' she said softly. 'I think it's going to be all right.'

Ratbat's arms found their way around the Counsellor, and she buried her face in the friendly shoulder. The two stood like that in front of the window for quite a while, as the stars glided past.

To be continued...

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