"Moo"ving along...

Allan

"Moo?" the ravenmaned centaur female blinks.

Lingering effects from her time as a cow, I shall wager...

She looks as if she is trying to say something (or ask something) but pauses, unable to quiet yet . . .manage. Being new to magic I have an inkling of what she's going through, so I DO have sympathy.

. . .

Then, shaking her head then to finally clear it (clearly confused as to why she just mooed) she pauses, enchanted by Aslan (who's begun to sing again).

A singing lion, by Jove!

Well, then again that is the least disconcerting thing that has befallen us to date. . .

. . .

The newcomers who've become female centaurs, meanwhile as all of THAT runs through my head, suddenly have the strangest looks on their lovely faces and then it all becomes clear to her and her blue eyed "sister", I find out. Aslan's singing sorted her true identity out from the false ones lingering magicks from the Transform Door had tried to force upon them.

. . .

I have this thing about lions: I don't like them at all. Did not care for them much before getting mauled by one back in Africa . . . my world's Africa if one must be pedantic. After that painful event I cared much less for them so of course when the largest lion I have ever laid eyes upon shows up, I fear I was MOST . . .

I reacted badly.

I was wrong. AND I did apologize (and I DO hope that Inquirer will be kind in her talk with me after this is all done)...

. . .

And I still do not like lions, but in THIS particular case I believe I am beginning to rather LIKE this Aslan chap! From past experience with similar cases we could have been sidetracked yet AGAIN helping unexpected family members get their minds put to right and this Great Lion just sings and . . . all fixed!

Eh, yes. Quiet nice of the lion, really. Indeed! Saves us from a LONG side quest, really as I said...

At least he did not hold grudges and for the life of me it is almost like . . . .there is something rather . . . Christlike in this lion, really. Must remember to ask Inquirer and the others to fill me and Mina in more fully after this segment of our misadventures is done with. Right now it is not too wise to reveal too much to our guest here (who look like they shall have enough to chew over as it is, what they've seen and been told thus far)!

Take it from one who knows, having one's life on display as popular fiction can be make one's head spin indeed! How Chiana would have managed to watch her OWN life on display . . . well, I understand the need for it but still!

Let us not put our hosts out any more like THAT, shall we? It would just be . . . cruel.

Inquirer

My, if nothing else I must say that besides having a time . . . .

Heh, well I AM glad indeed that Aslan was able to fix our latest batch of victims of Transform Doors from what I am able to untangle from the chattering going on between the centaurs and elves.

Rather animated chattering, but nice...

Sigh. Sorry if I do not sound more enthused about this (am putting up a good front I hope) but honestly this time setting has . . . some sad memories for me.

How? Why?

You might remember mention of some place we in the Military called Mirror 359, right? Want to wager a guess what time period it was in when "my" little war touched it's shores?

Yep! You got it: World War II was on! Granted, being a parallel reality things were going a bit differently. The Americans had just nuked BERLIN, instead of Hiroshima or Nagasaki (cranked out the A-bomb faster in that parallel world than in mine, you see). Then, when the Enemy came and WE came . . . things got turned upside down and backwards!

Was not able to actually land my ship (which housed the CPU that was ME) back then on that Earth. If I had managed I may have (if I had time) enjoyed what passed for coffee substitute through my Avatar unit in some small English hamlet which some of the less well to do had to make do with back during the rationing. Yeah, doesn't taste at all like the REAL thing: roasted acorns. And must thank the Professor for something with the real bean in it . . . nice to share with unexpected guests) but for an AI like me it was the novelty of being ABLE to taste was the thing.

Still is to some extent, but that's an aside and I'm getting sidetracked.

What I'm saying is that it was a damn shame how it rolled out in the end. Only the briefest of "first contact" had been made with the Allies (NO way were we going to even speak to the Axis . . . what was left of it) by the time all the flashing lights from the dogfights up in space (and atomics lighitng up the night out there to make a VERY interesting lightshow below on that Earth). We should have done MUCH better, the Miltary, but that one damn hotdog captain had to go and try to seek glory by IGNORING his orders and duty and . .

. . .

He got his ship and self killed, and by his hot dogging a lot of good friends of mine bit it . . .

Glad he's dead.

We had won, we'd thought though until we got the FIRST real evidence that the Enemy was serious about using Slammer ships. Oh, it was nothing more than an asteroid with an jump engine unit attached (bulky and slow) but quick enough to get by what little of our assets were left and hit HARD enough to . . .

They died screaming.

. . .

Man, sometimes I wish I was without photographic memory because THAT is one of a LOT of memories I wish I did not have.

At least this place's quantum signature (what we can read of it with tricorder) is TOO different from that now dead place for me to worry that I've somehow travelled back in time to visit a doomed world...

Yeah, just a little glimpse into my past. Hope you liked the show and now understand why I don't talk about the Enemy/Alliance War too much. I deal with it and them but . . . it's not something I like to dig up and look at, those memories...

. . .

"Yeah, you of all people here would know about Mirror 359 and me eh?" I whisper sadly as I see Aslan glance my way with sympathy.

Well, so be it. It looks like things are winding down even IF we've just picked up two new . . .

. . .

Waittaminute.

Aslan, by any chance would you have some kind of spacial coordinates for our new friends here? I send to Aslan (who looks very tired right now, gawd). I mean something that once we reset our teleportation device? That way they can be going home to put things to right IF they can ...

Could just ask him to do something like sing all the centaurs home and we'd be done with it. . . but that would not be fair on Aslan (who's rather drained right now . . . hope he gets some good rest when he finally manages to get back home to . . .wherever across that Narnia sea his King and Lord lay).

Gladly daughter of silicon, he sends back, a decided purr present in the sending. And the thoughts to my welfare are most . . . .kind.

. . .

Yep, Aslan would know what I'm thinking, eh? Well, won't be upset for him peaking. Godlike or whatever you'd like to call entities like this kind of trump national security and all that . . . not to mention the usual common curtousy of not being a mental peeping tom. He's godlike but polite (unlike that puke called Q) so I'm not angry.

That and here are the coordinates for Narnia . . . if you should like to discuss things that you find troubling your heart and cannot share with others, he adds, supplying coordinates mentally to me.

. . .

Gee, that last was a nice gesture. Might do it, sometime.

. . .

"Time to go," the Doctor says after saying a brief farewell to our hosts after I give our newest centaurs a rundown at options they can mull over before we finally return after THIS QUEST is done and we return Fifi (now a redheaded centauress) and Bambi (Brunette centauress) to their rightful world.

If they're anything like their counterparts we've seen thus far (and I see no reason why not) then once we return we will be dropping them off on their home world (and there they shall do what they can in stopping those invading Amazons and whatnot). We Champions, meanwhile, will be going on something of a vacation after all this . . . mess, thanks.

Oh, and for Creator's sake while perhpas we could do out and try to help more by killing and maiming those invaders . . . the Doctor, I and the others agree that THAT would be getting TOO involved in other people's reality's politics and lives. Keep doing things like that and we'd NEVER be doing anything else BUT that.

The Professor and the children look at the spot where the strangers had just been standing, and then at each other. Then at Aslan, who bows slightly and then he as well vanishes from sight (in a slightly less showy manner than the others but that's that).

"Hrm," the Professor says, puffing on his pipe. Then, while still thinking and looking at the window which had caused the children to panic . . . and then blinks to see it fixed.

"I . . . see," he sighs.

Turning back . . .

"Two things I will suggest children," he says firmly. "We will not play cricket so close to the house next time, correct?"

A chorus of yes from the children is what he likes and gets.

"Second thing is I would strongly suggest is . . . "

The children, even the youngest, see no reason why not to agree to the later suggestion: tell none of this EVER having happened. Frankly, even the youngest (and kindest) knows why: no one would believe them!!

Back on Terra Prime . . .

"Well," Probe sighs, shaking his head slightly at yet anther set of houseguests showing up unexpectedly. "At least--thank the Creator-- that we have coordinates this time! Hey, let's get you two a room and all that, eh?"

As Probe and Evis 7 see to the yet to be appropriately named centaurs (they're still using their old male human names right now, those centauress who for some reason Aslan made to look like those Azu Blue Eyes and Ravenmane) we turn back to our heroes.

"So . . .have only two left," Mina observes the remaining destinations on a printout. "Perhaps we shall grow lucky and actually find our missing home reality for the wayward centaurs here on our next stop and be done with it, but somehow I am not so confident in that."

1. She would prove to be correct . . . But even if they'd landed on the right reality . . . Well, you'll see. . .

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