Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer > BUFFY Meets STAR TREK
- Traders' World -
--Reunion--
21
Beneath the Heart of the Targ:
The elevator door opened to a vast great basement. Before them, large copper cylinders rose from the floor - up beyond the grid of a 2nd floor gangway - where they narrowed like funnels to thinner pipes that ran the rest of the way to the high ceiling.
"A private brewery," Troi whispered with just a hint of awe.
"Bootleggers?" Buffy offered.
But Troi shook her head. "There has to be a law against it for it to be bootlegging. There are no laws here. Anything goes."
"Almost reminds me of home," said Buffy.
They found, some way further along, a ramp - possibly calved from a white substance similar to limestone. Their eyes followed it up to a 3rd floor higher than the gangways that were far above them. They stopped to listen. There were voices up there, just out of range to focus on clearly. The team remained silent from here on as Randall and Troi signalled an advance. So, quietly, the 4 members of Gamma Team ascended the ramp.
As they drew near the top of the slope, a low wall that ran up beside them became an ornamental balustrade. Once on a flat level again, they now had a better view of their surroundings. They were about 6 feet above the 2nd floor metal gangway of expanded mesh - in the familiar pattern that left diamond-shaped openings in the floor - but not yet up to the 3rd floor. If the 3rd floor could indeed be called a floor, as it only took up a small area at the far end of the chamber and overlooked the brewing facility. Ahead of them was a set of steps leading to the top level of this enormous brewing chamber and the voices up there grew louder.
To Buffy's ears it sounded as though someone was talking about opening a vault. She wasn't sure.
Troi gasped as a sudden rush of empathic feedback took her by surprise.
"Counsellor?" Randall whispered in concern, disregarding protocol and using her title.
"I'm alright," she assured him. "But...I'm sensing the most violent of emotions ... such murderous thoughts. And ... satisfaction. Like someone finding what they came for at last."
That could only mean one thing. And they were out of time.
From over the balustrade of the 3rd floor came the rattle of an old cog-run mechanism and the creek of a heavy door that reverberated off the walls around them.
Buffy broke into a sprint - up the stairs and towards the noise.
The other team members followed as quickly as they could.
The Slayer hit the 3rd level running. She came to a long table surrounded by chairs - a meeting area - and jumped onto it, still running. As she jumped back to the floor, she saw ahead of her the large vault door. And a rough-looking man gripping the limp body of a Klingon in both hands.
A man with yellow skin.
Data!
His dark hair was an unkempt, feverish mess. And his face, from just below the right eye, tracing a line down his cheek, bore a deep cut that displayed his inner workings when his mouth moved a certain way. He wore brown, worn trousers that were cut-off beneath the knees by a pair of heavy boots, each held in place by a row of magnetic buckles and his hands were mostly covered - all but his finger ends - by dark woollen gloves. Under the coat were several more layers of dark clothing. Polo-necked undershirt, a sweater, and some kind of torn waist-jacket. All probably stolen from a miner in this very Territory. All but the metallic armband that was fastened around his right forearm.
The android examined the Slayer carefully as she stopped just metres away from him.
"Drop the Klingon," she demanded.
Data complied immediately and opened his hands. The body dropped to the floor. Dead weight.
On the ground next to the fresh corpse sat a curious cylindrical device with an internal red glow.
Data stood tall and looked Buffy up and down. He seemed to be accessing files, as he had done in the conferences on the Enterprise, and understanding slowly crept to his rather more human-like face. "Aah, Slayer, we meet at last."
Buffy blinked. "You do realise how corny that line is, right?"
The others arrived and Data stood before them proudly. "YOU cannot stop me."
"Funny," Buffy retorted, "that's just what the Master said right before I kicked his ass."
"You have no concept of MY power," he informed her.
"Really? So, seeing as you're SOoo powerful, why aren't you out taking over the galaxy? Or did you need to stop off for groceries on the way?"
"I am forever. No mortal can defeat me."
"Yeah; 'blaa, blaa'. We get that," she mocked. "I've been dead already, and look - still here. If that doesn't qualify as immortality then whoever makes the qualifying rules oughta be disqualified. And you wont be the first man-machine to underestimate this Slayer's power. By the way, did you happen to read Macbeth?"
Data responded with a hairy eyeball.
Deanna stepped forward cautiously. "Data?" His appearance was quite shocking to her.
"I'm sorry, Counsellor, Data's not responding to hails right now. But if you'd like to leave a message..." A low growling laugh rose in his artificial throat. "My dear Counsellor Troi. Come to appeal to my emotions have you? They send you to talk me down?" He began to move closer to Troi but Buffy reacted by taking a step closer to him.
He froze and watched her with narrowed eyes.
"Deanna, my dear," he went on. "If I am still the Data you know ... then how is it that I can tell you to GO SCREW YOURSELF!" His face distorted with new-found rage.
"What happened to you?" Deanna appealed.
Feeling at the edges of his torn face, Data's tongue played over his teeth as he recalled a recent memory. "Never underestimate a Ferengi with one ear," he advised.
"That's not what I meant," said Troi.
"Really? Well, Counsellor, I would be more concerned with what is about to happen to YOU." Data's face grew dark at that and his hands formed into fists as he came toward them.
Deanna drew her hidden actuation device, but Randall was already on his trigger. The shot of energy took the android clean off his feet and sent him into a stack of plasticrete crates. Data's body hit the floor and should have remained still, the phaser energy having shorted his systems, but Data was protected from the shot by the dark force of Evil, and the physical wound that would have killed a living person barely slowed the android down.
As he came to his feet, Deanna decided it was time to simulate actual 'death' in Data so that the Darkness would be forced from him. She aimed the device...
And hit the trigger.
Data's entire body suddenly switched off and keeled over. He hit the ground face-first and rested there.
"Now what?" Troi asked anxiously.
Willow pulled the small pouch from out of her clothing and tugged it free. "Now I-"
Randall let out a harsh gasp. Then spun at them with a demonic snarl. His pistol came up as he made to shoot them with it.
Buffy went to intercept the possessed officer, but clearly would not make it in time.
His weapon took aim.
And a single beam of energy erupted from Troi's secret hand phaser, burning a hole in Randall's midriff.
Darkness went airborne again.
Randall's used shell folded. By the time it hit the floor, his body was a withered waste of grey flesh. The Evil, in such a short time, had ravaged him. There was NO survival from possession.
Willow didn't hesitate this time. "Stand close to me!" she commanded and held the pouch aloft. "Xu'Lla'Vas, protector of souls, safeguard our mortal vessels from Darkness!"
They watched as the pouch began to glow with a golden aura.
"Take this, our offering, and keep us safe from harm!" The gold light engulfed the small bag and it faded away, leaving Willow's hand empty.
"How long will the spell hold?" Buffy whispered.
Willow went sour-faced. "U-Until the offering fades in a flash of goldish light," she said. "Thereabouts."
Oh.
Data twitched.
The 3 women huddled together as the android drew himself upright. "I have no time for this!" he spat. With a sudden burst of inhuman speed, he took the glowing device by a handle on its top, and ran to the low balustrade wall. He stopped there for a moment, perched on the rail, and looked back at them with a winning grin. He winked.
With the force of Darkness within him, and with the amazing strength of a machine, Data leapt from the balustrade - far across the chamber - and vanished into the field of upturned copper funnels.
Buffy followed. She went over the railing and dropped to the mid-level where the expanded metal catwalk skirted around the funnel-like brewery tanks. Her feet met the metal platform. She cursed as she slowly manoeuvred around the large tanks of fermenting ale. She knew it was ale now because the smell was quite distinct. Beneath her feet lay the diamond-grid gangway and through that she saw a sheer drop to the ground floor. But what really troubled her was the fact that she couldn't see her target. She couldn't even sense his presence around her like she could with most vamps and even some demons. And there was that other troublesome bit of fact.
Data was a machine. Not a creature with limits, but a robot. The only other humanoid robot she had faced before had been Ted - her mom's psycho ex-robo-boyfriend. Ted had been strong. He was only defeated when she had damaged his circuitry. But Buffy figured that Data was somewhat more advanced. He was probably built to take a nuclear blast. He was the damn TERMINATOR. Needless to say she didn't much like playing hide-and-seek with a possessed robot.
/Gimme something with a heart/, she thought. /Something I can plunge a knife into/.
There was a sudden flash of movement to her right. With a flurry of brown robes, she felt herself being swept off her feet. Gliding backward through the air in the grip of a yellow and brown blur, she saw, for a fractional moment, Data's distinct features - twisted into the maniacal grin of a savage beast. Then he fell away from her sight as she soared upward over one of the tanks, narrowly missing the vertical pipe rising from it, and crashed back to the deck, scraping her elbows as she slid to a stop on the catwalk.
Quickly, she rolled back into a crouch and waited for him to appear from behind the copper tank. She stayed low so as not to leave herself too open to attack. But nothing happened.
Buffy allowed herself a few seconds to rub her chafed elbows. Just as she began to wonder if Data was creeping up on her from behind... There he was.
His shabby and determined form slipped into view at 70 frames per second. At least that's how Buffy perceived it.
He seemed to slip from behind the tank in movie-style slow-motion. His long coat drifting around his legs. Darkness in his eyes. Those eyes fixed on hers.
Showtime.
--Reunion--
21
Beneath the Heart of the Targ:
The elevator door opened to a vast great basement. Before them, large copper cylinders rose from the floor - up beyond the grid of a 2nd floor gangway - where they narrowed like funnels to thinner pipes that ran the rest of the way to the high ceiling.
"A private brewery," Troi whispered with just a hint of awe.
"Bootleggers?" Buffy offered.
But Troi shook her head. "There has to be a law against it for it to be bootlegging. There are no laws here. Anything goes."
"Almost reminds me of home," said Buffy.
They found, some way further along, a ramp - possibly calved from a white substance similar to limestone. Their eyes followed it up to a 3rd floor higher than the gangways that were far above them. They stopped to listen. There were voices up there, just out of range to focus on clearly. The team remained silent from here on as Randall and Troi signalled an advance. So, quietly, the 4 members of Gamma Team ascended the ramp.
As they drew near the top of the slope, a low wall that ran up beside them became an ornamental balustrade. Once on a flat level again, they now had a better view of their surroundings. They were about 6 feet above the 2nd floor metal gangway of expanded mesh - in the familiar pattern that left diamond-shaped openings in the floor - but not yet up to the 3rd floor. If the 3rd floor could indeed be called a floor, as it only took up a small area at the far end of the chamber and overlooked the brewing facility. Ahead of them was a set of steps leading to the top level of this enormous brewing chamber and the voices up there grew louder.
To Buffy's ears it sounded as though someone was talking about opening a vault. She wasn't sure.
Troi gasped as a sudden rush of empathic feedback took her by surprise.
"Counsellor?" Randall whispered in concern, disregarding protocol and using her title.
"I'm alright," she assured him. "But...I'm sensing the most violent of emotions ... such murderous thoughts. And ... satisfaction. Like someone finding what they came for at last."
That could only mean one thing. And they were out of time.
From over the balustrade of the 3rd floor came the rattle of an old cog-run mechanism and the creek of a heavy door that reverberated off the walls around them.
Buffy broke into a sprint - up the stairs and towards the noise.
The other team members followed as quickly as they could.
The Slayer hit the 3rd level running. She came to a long table surrounded by chairs - a meeting area - and jumped onto it, still running. As she jumped back to the floor, she saw ahead of her the large vault door. And a rough-looking man gripping the limp body of a Klingon in both hands.
A man with yellow skin.
Data!
His dark hair was an unkempt, feverish mess. And his face, from just below the right eye, tracing a line down his cheek, bore a deep cut that displayed his inner workings when his mouth moved a certain way. He wore brown, worn trousers that were cut-off beneath the knees by a pair of heavy boots, each held in place by a row of magnetic buckles and his hands were mostly covered - all but his finger ends - by dark woollen gloves. Under the coat were several more layers of dark clothing. Polo-necked undershirt, a sweater, and some kind of torn waist-jacket. All probably stolen from a miner in this very Territory. All but the metallic armband that was fastened around his right forearm.
The android examined the Slayer carefully as she stopped just metres away from him.
"Drop the Klingon," she demanded.
Data complied immediately and opened his hands. The body dropped to the floor. Dead weight.
On the ground next to the fresh corpse sat a curious cylindrical device with an internal red glow.
Data stood tall and looked Buffy up and down. He seemed to be accessing files, as he had done in the conferences on the Enterprise, and understanding slowly crept to his rather more human-like face. "Aah, Slayer, we meet at last."
Buffy blinked. "You do realise how corny that line is, right?"
The others arrived and Data stood before them proudly. "YOU cannot stop me."
"Funny," Buffy retorted, "that's just what the Master said right before I kicked his ass."
"You have no concept of MY power," he informed her.
"Really? So, seeing as you're SOoo powerful, why aren't you out taking over the galaxy? Or did you need to stop off for groceries on the way?"
"I am forever. No mortal can defeat me."
"Yeah; 'blaa, blaa'. We get that," she mocked. "I've been dead already, and look - still here. If that doesn't qualify as immortality then whoever makes the qualifying rules oughta be disqualified. And you wont be the first man-machine to underestimate this Slayer's power. By the way, did you happen to read Macbeth?"
Data responded with a hairy eyeball.
Deanna stepped forward cautiously. "Data?" His appearance was quite shocking to her.
"I'm sorry, Counsellor, Data's not responding to hails right now. But if you'd like to leave a message..." A low growling laugh rose in his artificial throat. "My dear Counsellor Troi. Come to appeal to my emotions have you? They send you to talk me down?" He began to move closer to Troi but Buffy reacted by taking a step closer to him.
He froze and watched her with narrowed eyes.
"Deanna, my dear," he went on. "If I am still the Data you know ... then how is it that I can tell you to GO SCREW YOURSELF!" His face distorted with new-found rage.
"What happened to you?" Deanna appealed.
Feeling at the edges of his torn face, Data's tongue played over his teeth as he recalled a recent memory. "Never underestimate a Ferengi with one ear," he advised.
"That's not what I meant," said Troi.
"Really? Well, Counsellor, I would be more concerned with what is about to happen to YOU." Data's face grew dark at that and his hands formed into fists as he came toward them.
Deanna drew her hidden actuation device, but Randall was already on his trigger. The shot of energy took the android clean off his feet and sent him into a stack of plasticrete crates. Data's body hit the floor and should have remained still, the phaser energy having shorted his systems, but Data was protected from the shot by the dark force of Evil, and the physical wound that would have killed a living person barely slowed the android down.
As he came to his feet, Deanna decided it was time to simulate actual 'death' in Data so that the Darkness would be forced from him. She aimed the device...
And hit the trigger.
Data's entire body suddenly switched off and keeled over. He hit the ground face-first and rested there.
"Now what?" Troi asked anxiously.
Willow pulled the small pouch from out of her clothing and tugged it free. "Now I-"
Randall let out a harsh gasp. Then spun at them with a demonic snarl. His pistol came up as he made to shoot them with it.
Buffy went to intercept the possessed officer, but clearly would not make it in time.
His weapon took aim.
And a single beam of energy erupted from Troi's secret hand phaser, burning a hole in Randall's midriff.
Darkness went airborne again.
Randall's used shell folded. By the time it hit the floor, his body was a withered waste of grey flesh. The Evil, in such a short time, had ravaged him. There was NO survival from possession.
Willow didn't hesitate this time. "Stand close to me!" she commanded and held the pouch aloft. "Xu'Lla'Vas, protector of souls, safeguard our mortal vessels from Darkness!"
They watched as the pouch began to glow with a golden aura.
"Take this, our offering, and keep us safe from harm!" The gold light engulfed the small bag and it faded away, leaving Willow's hand empty.
"How long will the spell hold?" Buffy whispered.
Willow went sour-faced. "U-Until the offering fades in a flash of goldish light," she said. "Thereabouts."
Oh.
Data twitched.
The 3 women huddled together as the android drew himself upright. "I have no time for this!" he spat. With a sudden burst of inhuman speed, he took the glowing device by a handle on its top, and ran to the low balustrade wall. He stopped there for a moment, perched on the rail, and looked back at them with a winning grin. He winked.
With the force of Darkness within him, and with the amazing strength of a machine, Data leapt from the balustrade - far across the chamber - and vanished into the field of upturned copper funnels.
Buffy followed. She went over the railing and dropped to the mid-level where the expanded metal catwalk skirted around the funnel-like brewery tanks. Her feet met the metal platform. She cursed as she slowly manoeuvred around the large tanks of fermenting ale. She knew it was ale now because the smell was quite distinct. Beneath her feet lay the diamond-grid gangway and through that she saw a sheer drop to the ground floor. But what really troubled her was the fact that she couldn't see her target. She couldn't even sense his presence around her like she could with most vamps and even some demons. And there was that other troublesome bit of fact.
Data was a machine. Not a creature with limits, but a robot. The only other humanoid robot she had faced before had been Ted - her mom's psycho ex-robo-boyfriend. Ted had been strong. He was only defeated when she had damaged his circuitry. But Buffy figured that Data was somewhat more advanced. He was probably built to take a nuclear blast. He was the damn TERMINATOR. Needless to say she didn't much like playing hide-and-seek with a possessed robot.
/Gimme something with a heart/, she thought. /Something I can plunge a knife into/.
There was a sudden flash of movement to her right. With a flurry of brown robes, she felt herself being swept off her feet. Gliding backward through the air in the grip of a yellow and brown blur, she saw, for a fractional moment, Data's distinct features - twisted into the maniacal grin of a savage beast. Then he fell away from her sight as she soared upward over one of the tanks, narrowly missing the vertical pipe rising from it, and crashed back to the deck, scraping her elbows as she slid to a stop on the catwalk.
Quickly, she rolled back into a crouch and waited for him to appear from behind the copper tank. She stayed low so as not to leave herself too open to attack. But nothing happened.
Buffy allowed herself a few seconds to rub her chafed elbows. Just as she began to wonder if Data was creeping up on her from behind... There he was.
His shabby and determined form slipped into view at 70 frames per second. At least that's how Buffy perceived it.
He seemed to slip from behind the tank in movie-style slow-motion. His long coat drifting around his legs. Darkness in his eyes. Those eyes fixed on hers.
Showtime.
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