Face to Face on Mars?

Elrondir

"What if he wants to use us in the same way that Bond and this supposed Professor Moriarty wished to?" Hyde finishes up, glaring at us in challenge.

Of course, that was the next part we were going to discuss. Even though Artizza and Fertal would really like to LOUDLY argue the point with Hyde (huge height difference between monstrosity and elves none withstanding) we proceed to point out our case.

See, chances are looking rather good (not perfect, but good) that this is THE John Carter that Fertal and Arizza had met back on Barsoon since the name "Artizza" (a rather unlikely name even amongst elves, shall we say) was mentioned AND events which took place there were mentioned in passing in Inquirer's transcripts.

. . .

Hm, wonder how much pressure she had to put on Bond to get her hands on them. That and where was the pressure applied, eh?

. . . .

And while I'm wondering, how about me wondering when I can get the time to look at those comics! MAN, talk about a windfall here and . . .

Uh, right. Back to business.

Artizza and Fertal had met him and took a measure of that John Carter's character and found him trustworthy.

"But we DO want to at least try to get the invader's side of things," Inquirer adds, smiling a cocky smile and shaking her head slightly in amusement. "While I have a feeling that they won't have much in the way of niceties and manners, I do believe I'd like that. Gut feeling says that nothing positive will come of it like a peace treaty or such, but at LEAST I might get a feel for their . . . character."

"That and what's the best way to really mess with their heads," I smile, going over some of the better psych-opt strageties I'm rather fond of.

And if nothing else, maybe if we can figure out what frequency ranges these invaders use, we can do some brute force, blanket frequency jamming. Deny them the use of whatever communication lines they have in order to coordinate their invasion fleet and that?

"Oh, let us not forget one last thing," the Doctor adds, while gathering up things as Chiana comes back from visiting her sisters (Aeryn Pip and Chi, who's still out cold). "If M and Bond wish our help, there is ONE particular way we can get a better measure of Carter."

He goes on and says how and . . .

"Are you some kind of nutter?" Hyde blinks. befuddled.

Later

It's just a few minutes after midnight. The wee hours in the morning on what shall prove to be a VERY . . . er . . . interesting July 4rth...

Yes, can hear Elrondir muttering about movies and only needing a mother ship to upload a virus (which was actually a HOMAGE to the War of the Worlds's life saving germ saviors, really) to make it complete....

Back in the secret annex of the London museum two figures (one portly and one rather thin) are escorted out of M's office. Certain papertrails and incriminating evidence had finally caught up with an old . . . non- friend of the present M and a certain . . . detective in front of the League and the Champions. So good in fact, that the certain detective felt safe enough to . . . surface again after so long (and gloat in his own special way as an on opponent who was shadowboxing or whatnot).

Some of the League are still rather stunned that he's back, though one particular mechanical maiden had theorized as much...

Well, whatever. In the end it was that now useless (and hideously expensive) flying war chariot that had broken whatever backers Moriarty had and . . . . in his efforts to save his own skin he implicated Bond in enough things that BOND was going down as well....

Such a crying pity... Yeah, M would have use for fatty Bond in whatever other case, but the boy was radioactively hot now. Too hot to be of use without HIM getting burnt as well...

So, for political convenience, Bond goes . . . bye!

No mention of sudden appearances of dragons over London are mentioned nor unexpected targets of opportunity (Fu Manchu) are asked about. Frankly Mycroft and his bosses don't wish to dwell on such headaches (though the ramifications later on will be huge to the still shell shocked populations who witnessed it). First things first, the bloody survival of England! Then . . .deal with it as it comes!

Question are not asked on both sides, as was said. Manchu's fate is let hanging in the air, unasked (though Inquirer has a feeling he's no longer amongst the living . . . being who Moriarty is and all that). That is an internal matter of state and as such she and the Doctor don't feel like meddling in . . . such. Besides, she doesn't think much of people who'd write on other people's stomach in acidic ink, you know! Allan looks like he would like to talk with Artizza and Fertal (who'd actually READ those . . . comicbooks) about something called Allan Quatermain and the Sundered Veil. They'd mentioned him being in a penny dreadful story in the back and . . .

Well, things got a bit busy before they'd left, what with Humphrey (aka Xanth's Good Magicain and Sigin's estranged friend) offering something of a peace offering. He's not much for social niceties, but when he'd come and offered (for FREE) to cure Griffin's invisibility . . .

Talk about an offer they wouldn't refuse!

Anyway, these are still perilous times so Mycroft Holmes is MORE than willing to accept ANY help that the increasingly suspicious Champions and League has to offer. HE has seen the complete transcripts (i.e. the complete tech data) and thanks . . . whatever higher powers he actually believes in that they're willing to help in this time of need!

Within reason, of course. . . . Getting Griffin something in the way of help . . . least he could do (albeit in a VERY small way . . . nothing that would actually do anything to cure the nutter now that he's useless). He's a charity case, you know...

Anyway, Inquirer proves to be . . . more agreeable than Griffin, somehow.

The trick that Inquirer does (going invisible with her Atlantian cape) more than makes up for any losses from THAT . . . giggling madman.

Also . . .At least the League and Champions had been nice enough to drop off the useless Cavorite. A despondant Professor Cavor had already confirmed it was now useless (Cavorite) from other samples he'd been able to synthesize after that one batch had been snatched...

'Kay, that's all nice but . . .

However. . . .

But who'll be the go between M and the League (and Champions)?

Well, let us just stay that Mycroft . . . keeps it in the family.

But when the suggestion is made on where next to go (before he himself can make the decision), the Doctor smiles.

"I beg you pardon?” Mycroft's says, not sure that he'd heard correctly.

"Elementary my dear Watson!” the Timelord says, quoting the most famous MISQUOTE of Sherlockian literature (the detective never said that in the books, folks). Sherlock doesn't know exactly what to make of THAT, being called Watson being the least of it! "The technical data is . . . nice, but with a bit of time travel to just right AFTER that message got to Earth (the TARDIS can do that, old chap) we really should get some . . . hands on experience with whatever leftover invader equipment they'd left behind.”

That and get an actual measure of this John Carter for themselves (secretly armed to the teeth if they must fight their way out once the meeting takes place ). . . .

Next thing we know . . .

A green Martian gets a start. Artizza remembers a poor Gur Rathka saying he and his clan would be camped here. The Doctor--flying the TARDIS and fighting it all the way due this universe still being in flux-- manages to spot it form orbit with sensors the most likely spot (long story . . . so don't ask jus HOW he manages that).

Any doubts about THIS Mars being Barsoon that Artizza and Fertal had visited pretty much vanish when poor ol' Gur Rathka stutters: "Artizza?!”.

Oh, it's a bit colder (and the air thinner) than they remember, but it's the same ol’ Barsoon...

What are the odds at this meeting actually taking place?

. . .

Well, let us just say that certain Celestials have a decidely ODD sense of humor at times and leave at that, okay?

At least we'd been able to talk her out of asking the first Martians she saw if they grokked us, Inquirer sighs, shaking her head slightly at the Holmes (who thinks that coming along--Mycroft's request or not-- was a VERY bad move on his part)...

At the time of the request, Sherlock had begun to sense that while these strangers had a decidely . . . odd way to them they were . . . Well, just foreigners and allowances must be made.

Now, however . . .

Oh, the detective doesn't rattle easily, as we all know. HOWever, there are limits and this IS rather. . . strange, eh?

Then again, such silliness is a way that the Champions tend to cope with weird situations. Either that or have screaming fits, you see...

1. "Take us to your leader, Martian!" B’Elanna says in a somewhat bombastic voice before smiling slightly and adding: "Please?"

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