Finishing off pressing matters...

Artizza

"My dear," the Doctor says calmly, taking Chiana's hand in his to try to calm her. "Here is what we'll do. First . . . "

Yes, I am glad to say that the Doctor's plans do indeed calm our young and distressed dragoness down quiet a bit (though it makes some of the League a touch nervous). What we need to do is . . . take a little off the top of the Cavorite before "officially" delivering it to Bond.

A little SIDE trip is in order here: one to Xanth! We drop off the Cavorite and use it to fix up Chi. She'll still be out of it for a while yet but by the time we return she'll be up and running.

Wonder how the rest of the League shall react to seeing Chi in her natural (slumbering) form?

. . .

Well, then that done and saying hello to friends and such back there-- mustn't be rude-- we shall then go back to that pastiche world and deliver the Cavorite to Mr. Cavor himself.

Why him? Well, we NEED the good professor to confirm that what we're going to deliver IS Cavorite because . . . the stuff that Inquirer (after a softly muttered spell to test it beforehand) now is holding in her hand is a glowing RED rock. If it had not denatured, it would have shot it's container up to the TARDIS' ceiling way above us with an unearthly GREEN glow!

. . .

What exactly is that snickering earlier that B'Elanna and Elrondir made about some kind of "green radiation from outer space" and all that? Something about heavy metal or some such and . . .

Well, nevermind. That's not important right now.

What we shall do is after Cavor confirms it (and we console him over a loss of a dream, alas, unless they somehow manage to salvage stuff from these Martians who are coming) THEN we will call Bond and watch him sputter!

After that . . . maybe we shall help with the Martians . . . maybe. If they'll let us, that is. Not like we didn't help, really. We DID capture the very leader of those who'd stolen the Cavorite in the first place, you know!

To be honest, I'm not too keen on just trusting a mundane cold in stopping these invaders and whatnot, book or no book. Things have a way of deviating, after a while and one cannot trust everything to remain the same and all that.

It strikes me foolish for these invaders, after coming ALL this way here to be laid low by some kind of . . .

Besides, I want to hear what Bond was going to tell us about some kind of message from this Mars place, after all. Oh, I wonder how close this reality's Mars is to Barsoom (which I and Fertal had left relatively a short while ago).

Would be nice to say hello to Mr. Carter and the gang back there. See how things are coming along.

Good I hope!

Well, we're explaining to the League some of the finer details (finally!) of the prophetic vision that brought us to their world. Telling them that we HAD told them that it had been rather probable that the Cavorite had been denaturing and we had been forthcoming about that fact (and "all that Yazz").

. . .

Did I get that saying right?

. . .

When we exit . . .

Well, Mr. Griffin, upon exiting the TARDIS, comes nose to beak to Trilling Blackfeather himself and . . .

Trilling blinks at the blurry, halfway invisible (to his mystical senses) man, not knowing exactly what to make of this.

Mr. Griffin, meanwhile, yelps and backpedals back into Inquirer (who shoves him rather forcefully off herself).

Hyde, meanwhile, mutters something about God's balls or some such (hurmph!) but says nothing else. He's VERY cautious right now, though.

Probably sees that Trilling could give him a run for his money (if not BEAT him) in a tussle.

That said . . .

"Mr. Griffin," Inquirer mutters. "Get a GRIP on yourself and stop sniveling in fear! It's unbecoming of a giggling, raving lunatic of a rapist like you are, you know!"

She then sighs and mutters about not being ABLE to take him anywhere and about needing to babysit him to keep him (and US) out of trouble . . .

1. Oh no, she's not taken with Mr. Griffin at ALL!

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