The Fifth Element Part 1
Author: candygramme
Rating: R
Slash Jared/Jensen
Word count: 28,000 approx
A/N: This is not a story for the faint of heart. There were so many opportunities to lampoon, that I really didn't know where to begin - and if you read then you will certainly notice that I didn't have the sense to know when to stop! All I can say is that I am deeply sorry.
In here you will find a villain the likes of which has never been seen before. You will find a hero of truly monumental ability, and a being who is just about perfect. You will find character death, bravery in the face of impossible odds and a variety of TV heroes past and present, from Star Trek to the X-files and beyond.
I wish to reassure readers that no Tom Wellings were harmed during the making of this movie. It was all done with smoke and mirrors. He will be fine, I promise.
My thanks go to marys_scribbles for her stellar beta, and for the way she joyfully joined in the silliness. I also wish to thank the script writer of the Fifth Element, and tinkabell007, whose gorgeous manip I 'borrowed' for the banner below.
Prologue and Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
PROLOGUE:
The scene fades in on a typical Egyptian day. There are camels trekking over the dunes towards the ruins of an ancient Egyptian artifact. A boy leading a mule laden with water bottles is plodding towards a camp that seems to huddle around a building that is unmistakably ancient, pitted with scars wrought by time and yet covered in carvings that seem to convey a message to eternity. There is lush growth to one side of the building, with the sparkle of water in the distance. On the other side there is only sand.
As the artifact is approached, music swells. A chorus of girly voices can be heard singing a familiar tune:
"The X-Files is a show
With music by Mark Snow…"
We enter the edifice, marveling at the towering pillars, each one inscribed with hieroglyphics and painted in bright colors that the sun has never seen. Working diligently in one corner of the room is an odd couple.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The mule and the boy finally reach a camp. There are a few tents dwarfed by a huge temple door jutting out of the sand. The camp is deserted except for some kids by the temple entrance holding large mirrors, reflecting light into the temple. He boy, Omar, leaves his mule in the shade, seizes two goatskins and slips inside the temple.
Special Agent Fox Mulder is apparently studying an ancient inscription on the back wall, while his companion, Special Agent Dana Scully rolls her eyes and curls her lip in the way that only she can.
"Scully, listen to this. When the three planets are in eclipse…" Mulder sounds excited, and Scully yawns delicately as the always driven Federal Agent traces out the hieroglyphs that are his latest obsession.
"Honestly, Mulder," she murmurs. "They should never have let you go to Las Vegas. I knew that the Luxor was going to be bad news."
"But, Scully, it's all written here. Look at this." He indicates a carving that most definitely shows a couple of flying saucers blasting what appears to be a planet of some size. "It says right here that the black hole like a door is open. Evil comes ... sowing terror and chaos." He taps the wall and turns to smile patronizingly at her, while she yawns delicately and looks at her watch. " See? The snake, Scully. The Ultimate Evil. Could you perhaps take a couple of photos of this part? I'm going to need proof."
Pointing emphatically at the snake, the symbol of Evil as depicted by an ancient Egyptian artist long dead, Mulder tries to appeal to Scully's better nature. Sadly, she doesn't appear to have one.
"And when is this door opening snake act supposed to occur, Mulder?" she inquires, gesturing with the disposable camera that she's taken from her purse. Mulder nods and smiles as his fingers touch the symbols on the wall.
"If this is the five, and this the thousand…" He mentally tots things up on his fingers. "Looks like once every five thousand years."
"So not 'til at least season thirteen then?" smirks Scully, finally stepping forward to take the requested photograph.
As the two special agents continue to bicker, a man appears in the doorway to the temple. He appears to be a priest, and he's carrying a water bottle. He apparently only has one arm, and he's wearing a fake beard that's several shades too dark for his hair. Unnoticed by our two intrepid investigators, he observes them, his forehead creased in worry.
Mulder has resumed his attempts at translating, and Scully is languidly repairing her make-up.
"Then the elements of life will be employed against the Terror that is to come." He's getting excited now, tapping the hieroglyphs with trembling fingers. "Water..fire..earth..air..four elements around the fifth… Scully, it says here that there's a fifth element…"
The Priest opens the water bottle he's carrying and begins to pour a vial of powder into it, cackling in a minor key as he does so. "They already know too much. They must never be allowed to return to Washington."
Mulder's completely unaware now of any danger, because he's on the track of an alien invasion, or so he believes. He finally notices the one-armed priest and abandons the unresponsive Scully in favor of lecturing the newcomer. "Check it out, father," he murmurs. "It says right here that this fifth element will contain all the strength, all the hope. Protect us from the Evil that approaches..."
Krycek - for it is he - is pouring some of the water into a tin cup as Mulder turns to him, and he nods, extending the drink to him. He hands the cup to Mulder, who takes it, has it almost to his lips when… "I mean look. It's like a battle plan." In his excitement he doesn't drink, much to Krycek's chagrin. "Here the Good. Here the Evil… Here a weapon against evil. Amazing! I am going to be famous."
"Then let us toast to your fame! Here, Scully…" Krycek hands Scully a cup. "Drink!"
"To fame," murmurs Mulder, raising the cup to his lips, but pausing as a thought occurs. "We can't toast with mere water. Scully - In my briefcase, the vodka… the orange juice… mix us a screwdriver."
Perking up, Scully turns to look for the booze, and doesn't seem to notice that the light is suddenly fading, and there is a strange, eerie sound as if someone has just turned on the soundtrack from the Outer Limits.
The muffled sound grows steadily louder. Outside, a monstrous linear shadow disturbs the peace of the desert and gradually darkens the temple entrance.
Scully is still looking for the vodka. She comes upon a machine pistol. When the muffled sound suddenly grabs her attention, she leans toward the corridor and sees part of a spaceship appear. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, resuming her search through the briefcase. “Honestly, Mulder, the things you’ll do to attract attention! It’s not big, and it’s not clever you know!”
As ever, when he’s focused, Mulder keeps right on poring over the inscription. "This perfect person - this perfect being - I don’t understand this.. perfect? Yup! Perfect is what it says…” He pauses. “Scully, I need more light. Come on!”
Scully finally looks up as a horde of little green men scurry past her. She rubs her eyes and then grabs the vodka bottle, unscrews the cap and takes a slug.
Mulder is still reading the wall, oblivious to the aliens that are gathering behind him. “And this divine Light they’re talking about... what divine light? C’mon, Scully, I need more light.”
The room is flooded with light all of a sudden, as the flying saucer at the entrance to the temple turns on its headlamps.
“That’s much better. Scully, look at this; it’s the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever seen.” There’s a high pitched giggling from the little green men, and Mulder finally turns around, and is stunned speechless to find himself face to face with them all. Dozens of them fill the hall, and they pick Mulder up, dragging him to one side as a large creature strides down the corridor towards the rear wall. It stops in front of the priest who has fallen to his knees, face to the ground whimpering.
“Master, he was about to discover everything, but I had the situation under control.”
The little green men are holding Mulder three feet off the ground by some weird kind of mind over matter thing. Mulder is wide eyed. “Who are you? Are you Germans? Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” he babbles. Krycek swears in Russian and Scully finishes off the vodka and sits quietly giggling to herself.
The huge, bug-like alien holds out his hand to Krycek, who jumps to his feet excitedly.
"What did I do wrong?"
When the bug begins to speak, his voice is like a thousand bees. "Servant, you and the thousand guards before you... You have done your work well, but we have to recover the elements. War will soon engulf your planet. We must keep them safe." It goes over to the wall and seems to be looking for a lock. Finding it, it slides in its metallic finger which is apparently more intricate than the key to a safe. A turn of its hand activates a mechanism that opens the wall. Mulder is entranced. He steps forward, peering into the room revealed beyond the wall, making little, orgasmic noises. The huge creature gives a sigh and gestures to his horde of little green men. As he does so, they swarm over Mulder and reduce him to unconsciousness even as he crows in ecstasy. Scully begins to sing "Row, row, row your boat" and giggles softly to herself.
The large alien - a Mondoshawan - heads down the hallway revealed by the opening. He is followed by his little green men. Krycek slips in behind them.
They step into a vast room. The ceiling is very high, pyramid-shaped. In each corner of the room, there are four pillars containing four
Stones - long, triangular shapes inscribed with symbols - the four elements. In the middle, an opaque sarcophagus rests on an altar. The alien stops and contemplates it a moment.
"The Fifth Element..." murmurs Krycek, whose beard has slipped around to dangle rakishly from one ear.
"Take the stones and put them in a safe place," murmurs the Mondoshawan, and there's a flurry of activity as his minions rush to carry out his orders.
Scully has now progressed to singing "Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine," as she staggers across the floor, having finally realized that all is not as it should be. She flings an arm around Krycek and offers him a swig from her bottle, then suddenly notices that the 'priest' is none other than her nemesis. "'S'you," she slurs, china blue eyes blinking owlishly.
Krycek sees no reason to argue with that. "Yep. It's me," he answers, making a vain attempt to return the beard to its former position. "But I'm mostly armless."
It's quite possible that Scully would have let things go, but that comment ignites the vengeance in her, and she fumbles, finally drawing her gun and leveling it as well as she can, which is not very.
"You son of a bitch," she grits and fires, just as the four elements are being carried past her and back to the mothership.
"Will the elements be gone now forever from this place?" asks Krycek, as several shots whistle past his ears, seriously damaging the bas relief. The Mondoshawan looks at Krycek for a very long time, and although it's very difficult to identify moods in a twelve foot space-going cockroach, there is reason to believe that the alien is astonished. It looks around as Scully falls flat on her back, still brandishing her gun.
"When mankind comes to its senses, we will return," it says.
"Knowing mankind as I do, that could take centuries!" Krycek finally succeeds in getting the beard to stay where it's supposed to be and Scully seems to have passed out for the moment, so all is copasetic as the alien turns to follow the stones back to his ship. "Time is of no importance, only life is important," it says. "When EVIL returns, so shall we." Krycek nods, and the alien is already leaving as Scully sits up once more, drawing a bead on the alien and firing the remainder of the bullets in her clip.
The Mondoshawan crumples to the ground, and the wall to the secret chamber immediately begins to close on it, trapping the alien behind the wall and leaving only a finger sticking through. Fortunately the key to the secret room is attached to that finger. Scully doesn't seem to register that. She switches to a new clip, lurches around and then fires wildly, unable to control the powerfully kicking gun.
Krycek takes a bullet and is lying, bleeding, on the ground, seriously wounded. So is the Mondoshawan. Mulder wakes up just as the little green men race off to the ship carrying the stones. He emerges from the secret room, only to be diverted by the sight of Krycek, once more beardless.
"You son of a bitch," he growls, dropping to his knees and beginning to pound on the injured priest with the single-minded intensity known only to obsessives - and Mulder.
"Oh, damn," growls Krycek as he slips into unconsciousness. Here we go again…"
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
300 YEARS LATER
Another, more modern, spaceship, with USS Enterprise NCC 1771 writ large on her side, fills the screen. It's a ship belonging to the Federation, and its mission is to boldly split infinitives that no man has split before. This is of course a responsibility of the highest order. Mr. Spock studies a screen on which can be seen a group of planets projecting three straight lines that crisscross at a single point. The configuration is identical to the one observed by Mulder on the temple wall. General Kim Manners looks out through the ship's window at one of the three huge planets in eclipse.
"Don't you have anything? Not even a temperature?" Captain James T. Kirk gesticulates as he turns toward his engineer. "Report, Mr. Scott."
"Captain, the thermo-analyzers have jammed. One of them reads over a million degrees, and the other's at minus five thousand. I've never seen anything like it. She's shaking herself apart."
Out in space, there is ominous activity taking place. In the thick, black velvet of space, the door to a nightmare has just opened.
After five thousand years, the ultimate Evil is back, and coalescing there against the sprinkles of stardust is the gigantic head of Dawn Ostroff.
"What is that, Mr. Spock?" Captain James Tiberius Kirk is puzzled. "What is that… thing? That terrible thing approaching us with its rapacious maw open to swallow us whole? What is it? Oh, God! What is it?" If a thing is worth asking, it's worth milking for all the possible drama, and so Kirk asks his question emphatically.
Lt. Uhura looks up from her seat. "General Manners, we will have a subspace channel open with the President in just a few minutes. Hailing frequencies are open."
Manners remains calm as he studies the abomination looming in the porthole. "Send out a probe," he orders, turning away to greet President Lindberg, who is now on screen sporting a mullet he can't stop swirling. Behind him, partially masked by flunkeys and hangers on, we can see a pair of priests, one venerable, and one evidently still at the beginning of the pathway to humility and sacrifice. He's actually listening to an iPod rather than taking note of the proceedings.
"I have to address the Supreme Council in 10 minutes, General Manners. Give me the facts, please." The President gives a nervous laugh and tosses his hair for the umpteenth time.
"There are no results from the chemical and molecular analysis as of yet, all the calibers are overshot. We're hoping a thermo-nucleonic imaging..." Manners' technobabble trails off under Lindberg's intense scrutiny.
"What you are saying is you don't know what this... thing… is?" The President fingers the long, shiny hair that's caressing his shoulders and laughs nervously again. "So what are the options? Wait, or act? Guys?"
Captain Kirk leans forward and peers at Lindberg. "My philosophy, Mr. President, is shoot first and ask questions later. I don't like uninvited guests, especially if they threaten the prime directive."
"Guys?" Lindberg looks around himself nervously. Spock moves forward to stand beside his captain.
"Mr. President, sir," he murmurs in his most annoyingly didactic Vulcan way. "I think it would be both foolish and illogical to shoot at what appears to be a life form, without first taking the time to study it! Besides, as yet it has shown no signs of hostility."
"No," admits the President. "It's just that it's getting bigger."
"So do people, but that's no reason to shoot them," murmurs Spock, and ducks as Kirk aims a smack to the back of his head.
Lindberg frowns. "The security of the Federated Territories is, and remains, number one priority. Besides, look at its teeth. That thing could bite lumps out of asteroids."
"I've got asteroids myself," murmurs Kirk. "I need the soft bathroom tissue. That hard stuff that the Federation issued us with causes me all kinds of grief. I'm a martyr to my bowels."
"You mean hemorrhoids, Jim," calls Dr. McCoy from where he's lounging, mint julep in hand.
"Thank you for sharing." It's pretty clear that the President has turned a little pale. The nervous laugh is very obvious as he surveys the occupants of the Enterprise. An idea appears to strike him. "I guess you must be anxious to proceed with your mission." He nods, steepling his fingers in a manner indicative of sneaky thoughts. "I, er, suppose General Manners' 'philosophy' is acceptable to you?" he asks. Kirk punches the air, and Spock gives a pissy little growl as he returns to his seat.
"Of course, your Presidentship," crows Kirk. "We're boldly going, you know. I can boldly go and blow that sucker out of space, especially for you."
All the Generals clustered around the President nod "yes." Manners, unnoticed, sidles away, leaps into a shuttle craft and hightails it for home and mother. He's light years away and accelerating to warp 6 before anyone notices.
"Very well, then! Manners?" There's a deathly hush as everyone looks around for the General
The older of the two priests tugs at the President's sleeve. "Sir?"
The Priest is younger than it first seemed, and apparently very careworn. He is in his thirties, with a shrewd look in his eyes. He carries around his neck the Mondoshawan's finger, which has, at the tip of it, the key to that secret room in the temple.
Mr. President, I'm Eric Kripke of the 50th level parish. I have a different theory to offer you." The President gives his trademark laugh as he turns to study Kripke. "Imagine for a moment that this thing is not anything that can be identified, because it prefers not to be, because it's the antithesis of all we are. Because it is evil, totally evil. Imagine it rending planets, causing bloodshed and gore wherever it turns its face. Imagine hell, and demons and vampires and spooks… They pale to insignificance before this. It's the mother of all that is vile…" He's just getting into it when the President stops him.
His voice is somewhat sarcastic as he studies Kripke. "I guess we've got one more reason to shoot first then, eh?"
The presidential hangers on all nod in agreement, but Kripke feels bound to continue. "Evil begets evil, Mr. President. Shooting will only make it stronger."
As they bicker, Mr. Spock's voice can be heard from the vidscreen. "The probe will attain its objective in five seconds, Mr. President."
They all look on as the screen shows the mighty head, its mouth gaping wide to capture the nuclear probe that has been sent to survey it. The thing chomps with huge, perfectly aligned teeth, then emits a hiccup as a small quantity of smoke erupts from its nostrils. The Ostroff appears to swallow the probe, licking its lips, and then immediately bubbles over with activity like a furious volcano.
"We're ready for your orders, Mr. President." Captain Kirk is busily applying lipstick as the vidscreen pans across to him, and he instantly straightens up and tries to look as though 'Passion Pink' is his natural color. The President looks puzzled as he turns back to Kripke.
"Your theory is interesting, Father, but I don't think we have time to go into it right now!" murmurs Lindberg, diplomatic to the last. He laughs again as he turns back to the vidscreen.
"Time is of no importance, Mr. President," says Kripke, sanctimoniously. "Only life is important." You can tell that he's waited a very long time to use that line, and he beams as he articulates the words.
Lindberg doesn't see it his way, however, and he's becoming irritated. "That's exactly what we are going to try and do: Protect the lives of some 200 billion of our fellow citizens! Captain Kirk? You may fire at will."
"Uh… what did Will do?" Kirk looks a little confused, and Spock leans to whisper an explanation in his ear. "Oh!" he murmurs at length as daylight dawns on his craggy features. "Mr. Chekov. Fire main phasers. Shoot to kill!"
All of a sudden, outside the ship, the strange being's activity ceases.
A black crust immediately covers it. Its mouth gapes wide once more.
"Captain, the creature's structure has just solidified on the surface as if it felt something." Spock goes on the air once more. "If that's the case, we are undoubtedly dealing with an intelligent being. I urge you to reconsider your present, illogical course of action."
Kripke is virtually jumping up and down now. "It is intelligent! It's the most terrible intelligence imaginable, Mr. President. It… it will inflict soap operas on you. It will drown you in bitchy teenagers."
The President hesitates, uneasy. He tosses his head again, and his luxurious locks give a squeak and run for the hills on many little legs. "Give me a minute... I have a doubt," he mutters.
"I don't, Mr. President." Kirk has struck an attitude much like the one in which people have been known to portray Napoleon. "I am completely confident."
They watch the phaser strike home and penetrate its target. There is an explosion, but it's swallowed up like seltzer in a glass of water.
Nothing happens to begin with. And then the mass grows larger. Smoke streams from the nose and ears of the creature, and the ship is buffeted as a cosmic belch erupts from its mouth. "Mr. Sulu," screams Kirk, who has abandoned Napoleonic posturing in favor of hiding under the bridge. "Reverse. Warp factor 6."
"She'll never do it, Captain," yells Scotty. "She'll shake herself apart."
"Shut the fuck up," growls Kirk, and sadly those are his last words as the giant head devours the Enterprise, warp core, transporters and all.
"Oops," murmurs the President, and he laughs nervously. Can you blame him?
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
MEANWHILE
We see a sleeping man who seems to be trying to escape from a nightmare. Jared Padalecki rubs his head. He's twenty six years old, powerfully built, unquestionably charming, with smoldering good looks in spite of the scars here and there.
His alarm clock is ringing, and it shows the date as November 2nd, 2359. It's two in the morning. Jared grabs a cigarette, and stops to look for a light. Shutting off the alarm, he growls. There's a barking from the hallway. There's still a ringing sound, and it takes Jared a minute, during which time he trashes his alarm clock with a mallet, before he realizes it's the phone.
He calls to the dog outside. "It's okay, Sophie, I'm coming." Grabbing the phone, he crosses his tiny apartment and heads for the door, patting himself for a light. Behind him, the automatic bed is busily making itself.
Lifting the phone to his ear, he mumbles, "Yeah?" He opens the door for the dog and starts to rummage through a drawer for a match. Out come a handful of war decorations, a hero's collection. "Hi sweetie!" he murmurs to the enormous German Shepherd cross that sits at his feet, wagging her tail.
"I love you too, Major, but you haven't called me that since basic training." The voice of Jeffrey Dean Morgan can be heard over the phone, and Jared snorts.
"I was talking to the dog," he says, grinning.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You still prefer your dog to the real thing." Jeff's chuckling as Jared catches sight of the photo of himself and a hard looking blonde in a wedding dress.
"Yeah. I prefer my bitches to bring their own fur coats," he snaps, still patting his pockets down in search of that elusive light.
Jeff's laughing now. "You still pining for that two timing ex of yours? Forget her; there are a million women out there."
"I don't want a million - I just want one," says Jared, softly. "A perfect one."
It's Jeff's turn to snort. "She doesn't exist, Jay. Ain't no such thing."
Rummaging through the drawer, Jared suddenly unearths a photo of himself and Jeff. They're in Federation uniform, standing beside a space fighter. He gazes at it for a moment. "Hey, I just found a picture of you," he says.
"Oh, really? How do I look?" Jeff's voice sounds wistful.
Jared chuckles. "Like shit," he says, smirking, then punches the air in triumph as he finds a box containing three matches. He strikes one, but it doesn't light. Sighing, he opens the fridge, but it's bare, except for a virtually empty can of Gemini croquettes. On the packet is an ad. 'WIN A DREAM TRIP FOR 2 TO FHLOSTON PARADISE,' it proclaims.
"Must be an old picture," says Jeff. "Listen, that's not what I called you about. You gotta bring me your hack for the 6 month overhaul, A.S.A.P."
Jared's attempting to boil water as he holds the phone to his ear, and he sighs. "I don't need one," he growls.
"You forgetting who sat next to you for a thousand missions," is Jeff's terse response. "I know how you drive."
"Dude! I'm driving a cab now, not a space fighter!" Jared's dismissive, visibly impatient to get rid of his ex-comrade in arms.
"Jared?" Jeff's voice is pitched as if to calm down a highly strung imbecile. "How many points you got left on your license?"
"Uh... at least fifty," responds Jared, fingers up to feel his nose as though expecting it to grow with the lie. Jeff laughs.
"In your dreams! See you tonight!" He hangs up, and seconds later Jared does the same. He makes coffee and then pours half of it into Sadie's bowl, setting it down beside her and patting her. "Cheers, dollface," he murmurs, lifting his own mug to sip.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The President's office has emptied, and only a few army officers remain. An ancient manuscript, and Fox Mulder's drawings, sit in front of the great man, and Kripke turns page after page in his attempt to illustrate his point. He's been babbling about hell's gates and demons so Lindberg is a little glassy-eyed.
"We only have forty-eight hours," says Kripke. "That's all the time it needs to adapt itself to our living conditions."
"And then?" asks the President in a faint voice.
"And then it will be too late," says Kripke in sepulchral tones. "The goal of this evil thing is to wipe out life! All forms of life. For all eternity...Life upsets it."
The President appears upset himself by this image. "Isn't there anything that can stop it?" he whispers.
"Yes, thank God." Erik Kripke crosses himself and beams. He does indeed believe in angels.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Somewhere, in a galaxy far, far away, the Mondoshawan spaceship bursts through a star cluster and fills the screen.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The manuscript is open on the President's desk, and he's studying Scully's rendering of the Mondoshawan.
"It looks like a freakin' cockroach," mutters the President.
"The Mondoshawans don't belong to the Federation," says Kripke. "But they're peaceful." He points to the case in the clasp of one of the Mondoswhawan's minions. "See here. In their possession are the four elements of life. These elements, when they are gathered around a fifth, The Supreme Being, ultimate warrior, created to protect life..."
In one of the relief carvings, the Supreme Being is depicted. He's standing as if frozen. All that can be seen is the lower half of his body. Beside him, a pair of big, metallic gloves can be seen, holding the case engraved with the emblem of the three suns containing the four Sacred Stones. Kripke continues. "...will produce what the ancients called the light of creation, the light of total goodness which is the only thing that can defeat this evil."
The President points to the spot occupied by the 5th element. "But what happens if instead of this... Ultimate Warrior... it's evil that stands here?"
"White turns to black. Light to Dark. Life to Death, for all eternity. There will be a weeping and a wailing and a gnashing of teeth. The rivers will run with blood, and pestilence will walk the earth." Kripke gets a glow about him as though he's prophesying. "There will be a McDonalds on every corner, and Starbucks will inherit the earth. Microsoft will grow mighty - er, no. Forget that one; that was last week."
The President's nerves quiver. He's popping Rolaids by the tube when his screen lights up, and a sentry from the vast depths of space speaks to him. "Sir, we have a Mondoshawan spaceship at the frontier, requesting permission to enter our territory."
"I guess I should make a decision," says Lindberg, laughing nervously.
Kripke gives him a gentle smile and nods. "They are the only ones who can help."
"Sir," General Sgriccia is on the screen. "The Mondoshawan don't belong to the Federation. We don't know their intention. I must recommend a full trinuclear assault."
Something inside the President seems to snap at that. "Did you see that thing swallow the Enterprise like a… a… gum drop? You can't even tell me what it is! I ask you for options, and you give me bullshit. Give the Mondoshawans permission to enter our territories with my warmest regards."
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Part Two
Rating: R
Slash Jared/Jensen
Word count: 28,000 approx
A/N: This is not a story for the faint of heart. There were so many opportunities to lampoon, that I really didn't know where to begin - and if you read then you will certainly notice that I didn't have the sense to know when to stop! All I can say is that I am deeply sorry.
In here you will find a villain the likes of which has never been seen before. You will find a hero of truly monumental ability, and a being who is just about perfect. You will find character death, bravery in the face of impossible odds and a variety of TV heroes past and present, from Star Trek to the X-files and beyond.
I wish to reassure readers that no Tom Wellings were harmed during the making of this movie. It was all done with smoke and mirrors. He will be fine, I promise.
My thanks go to marys_scribbles for her stellar beta, and for the way she joyfully joined in the silliness. I also wish to thank the script writer of the Fifth Element, and tinkabell007, whose gorgeous manip I 'borrowed' for the banner below.
Prologue and Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
PROLOGUE:
The scene fades in on a typical Egyptian day. There are camels trekking over the dunes towards the ruins of an ancient Egyptian artifact. A boy leading a mule laden with water bottles is plodding towards a camp that seems to huddle around a building that is unmistakably ancient, pitted with scars wrought by time and yet covered in carvings that seem to convey a message to eternity. There is lush growth to one side of the building, with the sparkle of water in the distance. On the other side there is only sand.
As the artifact is approached, music swells. A chorus of girly voices can be heard singing a familiar tune:
"The X-Files is a show
With music by Mark Snow…"
We enter the edifice, marveling at the towering pillars, each one inscribed with hieroglyphics and painted in bright colors that the sun has never seen. Working diligently in one corner of the room is an odd couple.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The mule and the boy finally reach a camp. There are a few tents dwarfed by a huge temple door jutting out of the sand. The camp is deserted except for some kids by the temple entrance holding large mirrors, reflecting light into the temple. He boy, Omar, leaves his mule in the shade, seizes two goatskins and slips inside the temple.
Special Agent Fox Mulder is apparently studying an ancient inscription on the back wall, while his companion, Special Agent Dana Scully rolls her eyes and curls her lip in the way that only she can.
"Scully, listen to this. When the three planets are in eclipse…" Mulder sounds excited, and Scully yawns delicately as the always driven Federal Agent traces out the hieroglyphs that are his latest obsession.
"Honestly, Mulder," she murmurs. "They should never have let you go to Las Vegas. I knew that the Luxor was going to be bad news."
"But, Scully, it's all written here. Look at this." He indicates a carving that most definitely shows a couple of flying saucers blasting what appears to be a planet of some size. "It says right here that the black hole like a door is open. Evil comes ... sowing terror and chaos." He taps the wall and turns to smile patronizingly at her, while she yawns delicately and looks at her watch. " See? The snake, Scully. The Ultimate Evil. Could you perhaps take a couple of photos of this part? I'm going to need proof."
Pointing emphatically at the snake, the symbol of Evil as depicted by an ancient Egyptian artist long dead, Mulder tries to appeal to Scully's better nature. Sadly, she doesn't appear to have one.
"And when is this door opening snake act supposed to occur, Mulder?" she inquires, gesturing with the disposable camera that she's taken from her purse. Mulder nods and smiles as his fingers touch the symbols on the wall.
"If this is the five, and this the thousand…" He mentally tots things up on his fingers. "Looks like once every five thousand years."
"So not 'til at least season thirteen then?" smirks Scully, finally stepping forward to take the requested photograph.
As the two special agents continue to bicker, a man appears in the doorway to the temple. He appears to be a priest, and he's carrying a water bottle. He apparently only has one arm, and he's wearing a fake beard that's several shades too dark for his hair. Unnoticed by our two intrepid investigators, he observes them, his forehead creased in worry.
Mulder has resumed his attempts at translating, and Scully is languidly repairing her make-up.
"Then the elements of life will be employed against the Terror that is to come." He's getting excited now, tapping the hieroglyphs with trembling fingers. "Water..fire..earth..air..four elements around the fifth… Scully, it says here that there's a fifth element…"
The Priest opens the water bottle he's carrying and begins to pour a vial of powder into it, cackling in a minor key as he does so. "They already know too much. They must never be allowed to return to Washington."
Mulder's completely unaware now of any danger, because he's on the track of an alien invasion, or so he believes. He finally notices the one-armed priest and abandons the unresponsive Scully in favor of lecturing the newcomer. "Check it out, father," he murmurs. "It says right here that this fifth element will contain all the strength, all the hope. Protect us from the Evil that approaches..."
Krycek - for it is he - is pouring some of the water into a tin cup as Mulder turns to him, and he nods, extending the drink to him. He hands the cup to Mulder, who takes it, has it almost to his lips when… "I mean look. It's like a battle plan." In his excitement he doesn't drink, much to Krycek's chagrin. "Here the Good. Here the Evil… Here a weapon against evil. Amazing! I am going to be famous."
"Then let us toast to your fame! Here, Scully…" Krycek hands Scully a cup. "Drink!"
"To fame," murmurs Mulder, raising the cup to his lips, but pausing as a thought occurs. "We can't toast with mere water. Scully - In my briefcase, the vodka… the orange juice… mix us a screwdriver."
Perking up, Scully turns to look for the booze, and doesn't seem to notice that the light is suddenly fading, and there is a strange, eerie sound as if someone has just turned on the soundtrack from the Outer Limits.
The muffled sound grows steadily louder. Outside, a monstrous linear shadow disturbs the peace of the desert and gradually darkens the temple entrance.
Scully is still looking for the vodka. She comes upon a machine pistol. When the muffled sound suddenly grabs her attention, she leans toward the corridor and sees part of a spaceship appear. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, resuming her search through the briefcase. “Honestly, Mulder, the things you’ll do to attract attention! It’s not big, and it’s not clever you know!”
As ever, when he’s focused, Mulder keeps right on poring over the inscription. "This perfect person - this perfect being - I don’t understand this.. perfect? Yup! Perfect is what it says…” He pauses. “Scully, I need more light. Come on!”
Scully finally looks up as a horde of little green men scurry past her. She rubs her eyes and then grabs the vodka bottle, unscrews the cap and takes a slug.
Mulder is still reading the wall, oblivious to the aliens that are gathering behind him. “And this divine Light they’re talking about... what divine light? C’mon, Scully, I need more light.”
The room is flooded with light all of a sudden, as the flying saucer at the entrance to the temple turns on its headlamps.
“That’s much better. Scully, look at this; it’s the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever seen.” There’s a high pitched giggling from the little green men, and Mulder finally turns around, and is stunned speechless to find himself face to face with them all. Dozens of them fill the hall, and they pick Mulder up, dragging him to one side as a large creature strides down the corridor towards the rear wall. It stops in front of the priest who has fallen to his knees, face to the ground whimpering.
“Master, he was about to discover everything, but I had the situation under control.”
The little green men are holding Mulder three feet off the ground by some weird kind of mind over matter thing. Mulder is wide eyed. “Who are you? Are you Germans? Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” he babbles. Krycek swears in Russian and Scully finishes off the vodka and sits quietly giggling to herself.
The huge, bug-like alien holds out his hand to Krycek, who jumps to his feet excitedly.
"What did I do wrong?"
When the bug begins to speak, his voice is like a thousand bees. "Servant, you and the thousand guards before you... You have done your work well, but we have to recover the elements. War will soon engulf your planet. We must keep them safe." It goes over to the wall and seems to be looking for a lock. Finding it, it slides in its metallic finger which is apparently more intricate than the key to a safe. A turn of its hand activates a mechanism that opens the wall. Mulder is entranced. He steps forward, peering into the room revealed beyond the wall, making little, orgasmic noises. The huge creature gives a sigh and gestures to his horde of little green men. As he does so, they swarm over Mulder and reduce him to unconsciousness even as he crows in ecstasy. Scully begins to sing "Row, row, row your boat" and giggles softly to herself.
The large alien - a Mondoshawan - heads down the hallway revealed by the opening. He is followed by his little green men. Krycek slips in behind them.
They step into a vast room. The ceiling is very high, pyramid-shaped. In each corner of the room, there are four pillars containing four
Stones - long, triangular shapes inscribed with symbols - the four elements. In the middle, an opaque sarcophagus rests on an altar. The alien stops and contemplates it a moment.
"The Fifth Element..." murmurs Krycek, whose beard has slipped around to dangle rakishly from one ear.
"Take the stones and put them in a safe place," murmurs the Mondoshawan, and there's a flurry of activity as his minions rush to carry out his orders.
Scully has now progressed to singing "Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine," as she staggers across the floor, having finally realized that all is not as it should be. She flings an arm around Krycek and offers him a swig from her bottle, then suddenly notices that the 'priest' is none other than her nemesis. "'S'you," she slurs, china blue eyes blinking owlishly.
Krycek sees no reason to argue with that. "Yep. It's me," he answers, making a vain attempt to return the beard to its former position. "But I'm mostly armless."
It's quite possible that Scully would have let things go, but that comment ignites the vengeance in her, and she fumbles, finally drawing her gun and leveling it as well as she can, which is not very.
"You son of a bitch," she grits and fires, just as the four elements are being carried past her and back to the mothership.
"Will the elements be gone now forever from this place?" asks Krycek, as several shots whistle past his ears, seriously damaging the bas relief. The Mondoshawan looks at Krycek for a very long time, and although it's very difficult to identify moods in a twelve foot space-going cockroach, there is reason to believe that the alien is astonished. It looks around as Scully falls flat on her back, still brandishing her gun.
"When mankind comes to its senses, we will return," it says.
"Knowing mankind as I do, that could take centuries!" Krycek finally succeeds in getting the beard to stay where it's supposed to be and Scully seems to have passed out for the moment, so all is copasetic as the alien turns to follow the stones back to his ship. "Time is of no importance, only life is important," it says. "When EVIL returns, so shall we." Krycek nods, and the alien is already leaving as Scully sits up once more, drawing a bead on the alien and firing the remainder of the bullets in her clip.
The Mondoshawan crumples to the ground, and the wall to the secret chamber immediately begins to close on it, trapping the alien behind the wall and leaving only a finger sticking through. Fortunately the key to the secret room is attached to that finger. Scully doesn't seem to register that. She switches to a new clip, lurches around and then fires wildly, unable to control the powerfully kicking gun.
Krycek takes a bullet and is lying, bleeding, on the ground, seriously wounded. So is the Mondoshawan. Mulder wakes up just as the little green men race off to the ship carrying the stones. He emerges from the secret room, only to be diverted by the sight of Krycek, once more beardless.
"You son of a bitch," he growls, dropping to his knees and beginning to pound on the injured priest with the single-minded intensity known only to obsessives - and Mulder.
"Oh, damn," growls Krycek as he slips into unconsciousness. Here we go again…"
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
300 YEARS LATER
Another, more modern, spaceship, with USS Enterprise NCC 1771 writ large on her side, fills the screen. It's a ship belonging to the Federation, and its mission is to boldly split infinitives that no man has split before. This is of course a responsibility of the highest order. Mr. Spock studies a screen on which can be seen a group of planets projecting three straight lines that crisscross at a single point. The configuration is identical to the one observed by Mulder on the temple wall. General Kim Manners looks out through the ship's window at one of the three huge planets in eclipse.
"Don't you have anything? Not even a temperature?" Captain James T. Kirk gesticulates as he turns toward his engineer. "Report, Mr. Scott."
"Captain, the thermo-analyzers have jammed. One of them reads over a million degrees, and the other's at minus five thousand. I've never seen anything like it. She's shaking herself apart."
Out in space, there is ominous activity taking place. In the thick, black velvet of space, the door to a nightmare has just opened.
After five thousand years, the ultimate Evil is back, and coalescing there against the sprinkles of stardust is the gigantic head of Dawn Ostroff.
"What is that, Mr. Spock?" Captain James Tiberius Kirk is puzzled. "What is that… thing? That terrible thing approaching us with its rapacious maw open to swallow us whole? What is it? Oh, God! What is it?" If a thing is worth asking, it's worth milking for all the possible drama, and so Kirk asks his question emphatically.
Lt. Uhura looks up from her seat. "General Manners, we will have a subspace channel open with the President in just a few minutes. Hailing frequencies are open."
Manners remains calm as he studies the abomination looming in the porthole. "Send out a probe," he orders, turning away to greet President Lindberg, who is now on screen sporting a mullet he can't stop swirling. Behind him, partially masked by flunkeys and hangers on, we can see a pair of priests, one venerable, and one evidently still at the beginning of the pathway to humility and sacrifice. He's actually listening to an iPod rather than taking note of the proceedings.
"I have to address the Supreme Council in 10 minutes, General Manners. Give me the facts, please." The President gives a nervous laugh and tosses his hair for the umpteenth time.
"There are no results from the chemical and molecular analysis as of yet, all the calibers are overshot. We're hoping a thermo-nucleonic imaging..." Manners' technobabble trails off under Lindberg's intense scrutiny.
"What you are saying is you don't know what this... thing… is?" The President fingers the long, shiny hair that's caressing his shoulders and laughs nervously again. "So what are the options? Wait, or act? Guys?"
Captain Kirk leans forward and peers at Lindberg. "My philosophy, Mr. President, is shoot first and ask questions later. I don't like uninvited guests, especially if they threaten the prime directive."
"Guys?" Lindberg looks around himself nervously. Spock moves forward to stand beside his captain.
"Mr. President, sir," he murmurs in his most annoyingly didactic Vulcan way. "I think it would be both foolish and illogical to shoot at what appears to be a life form, without first taking the time to study it! Besides, as yet it has shown no signs of hostility."
"No," admits the President. "It's just that it's getting bigger."
"So do people, but that's no reason to shoot them," murmurs Spock, and ducks as Kirk aims a smack to the back of his head.
Lindberg frowns. "The security of the Federated Territories is, and remains, number one priority. Besides, look at its teeth. That thing could bite lumps out of asteroids."
"I've got asteroids myself," murmurs Kirk. "I need the soft bathroom tissue. That hard stuff that the Federation issued us with causes me all kinds of grief. I'm a martyr to my bowels."
"You mean hemorrhoids, Jim," calls Dr. McCoy from where he's lounging, mint julep in hand.
"Thank you for sharing." It's pretty clear that the President has turned a little pale. The nervous laugh is very obvious as he surveys the occupants of the Enterprise. An idea appears to strike him. "I guess you must be anxious to proceed with your mission." He nods, steepling his fingers in a manner indicative of sneaky thoughts. "I, er, suppose General Manners' 'philosophy' is acceptable to you?" he asks. Kirk punches the air, and Spock gives a pissy little growl as he returns to his seat.
"Of course, your Presidentship," crows Kirk. "We're boldly going, you know. I can boldly go and blow that sucker out of space, especially for you."
All the Generals clustered around the President nod "yes." Manners, unnoticed, sidles away, leaps into a shuttle craft and hightails it for home and mother. He's light years away and accelerating to warp 6 before anyone notices.
"Very well, then! Manners?" There's a deathly hush as everyone looks around for the General
The older of the two priests tugs at the President's sleeve. "Sir?"
The Priest is younger than it first seemed, and apparently very careworn. He is in his thirties, with a shrewd look in his eyes. He carries around his neck the Mondoshawan's finger, which has, at the tip of it, the key to that secret room in the temple.
Mr. President, I'm Eric Kripke of the 50th level parish. I have a different theory to offer you." The President gives his trademark laugh as he turns to study Kripke. "Imagine for a moment that this thing is not anything that can be identified, because it prefers not to be, because it's the antithesis of all we are. Because it is evil, totally evil. Imagine it rending planets, causing bloodshed and gore wherever it turns its face. Imagine hell, and demons and vampires and spooks… They pale to insignificance before this. It's the mother of all that is vile…" He's just getting into it when the President stops him.
His voice is somewhat sarcastic as he studies Kripke. "I guess we've got one more reason to shoot first then, eh?"
The presidential hangers on all nod in agreement, but Kripke feels bound to continue. "Evil begets evil, Mr. President. Shooting will only make it stronger."
As they bicker, Mr. Spock's voice can be heard from the vidscreen. "The probe will attain its objective in five seconds, Mr. President."
They all look on as the screen shows the mighty head, its mouth gaping wide to capture the nuclear probe that has been sent to survey it. The thing chomps with huge, perfectly aligned teeth, then emits a hiccup as a small quantity of smoke erupts from its nostrils. The Ostroff appears to swallow the probe, licking its lips, and then immediately bubbles over with activity like a furious volcano.
"We're ready for your orders, Mr. President." Captain Kirk is busily applying lipstick as the vidscreen pans across to him, and he instantly straightens up and tries to look as though 'Passion Pink' is his natural color. The President looks puzzled as he turns back to Kripke.
"Your theory is interesting, Father, but I don't think we have time to go into it right now!" murmurs Lindberg, diplomatic to the last. He laughs again as he turns back to the vidscreen.
"Time is of no importance, Mr. President," says Kripke, sanctimoniously. "Only life is important." You can tell that he's waited a very long time to use that line, and he beams as he articulates the words.
Lindberg doesn't see it his way, however, and he's becoming irritated. "That's exactly what we are going to try and do: Protect the lives of some 200 billion of our fellow citizens! Captain Kirk? You may fire at will."
"Uh… what did Will do?" Kirk looks a little confused, and Spock leans to whisper an explanation in his ear. "Oh!" he murmurs at length as daylight dawns on his craggy features. "Mr. Chekov. Fire main phasers. Shoot to kill!"
All of a sudden, outside the ship, the strange being's activity ceases.
A black crust immediately covers it. Its mouth gapes wide once more.
"Captain, the creature's structure has just solidified on the surface as if it felt something." Spock goes on the air once more. "If that's the case, we are undoubtedly dealing with an intelligent being. I urge you to reconsider your present, illogical course of action."
Kripke is virtually jumping up and down now. "It is intelligent! It's the most terrible intelligence imaginable, Mr. President. It… it will inflict soap operas on you. It will drown you in bitchy teenagers."
The President hesitates, uneasy. He tosses his head again, and his luxurious locks give a squeak and run for the hills on many little legs. "Give me a minute... I have a doubt," he mutters.
"I don't, Mr. President." Kirk has struck an attitude much like the one in which people have been known to portray Napoleon. "I am completely confident."
They watch the phaser strike home and penetrate its target. There is an explosion, but it's swallowed up like seltzer in a glass of water.
Nothing happens to begin with. And then the mass grows larger. Smoke streams from the nose and ears of the creature, and the ship is buffeted as a cosmic belch erupts from its mouth. "Mr. Sulu," screams Kirk, who has abandoned Napoleonic posturing in favor of hiding under the bridge. "Reverse. Warp factor 6."
"She'll never do it, Captain," yells Scotty. "She'll shake herself apart."
"Shut the fuck up," growls Kirk, and sadly those are his last words as the giant head devours the Enterprise, warp core, transporters and all.
"Oops," murmurs the President, and he laughs nervously. Can you blame him?
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
MEANWHILE
We see a sleeping man who seems to be trying to escape from a nightmare. Jared Padalecki rubs his head. He's twenty six years old, powerfully built, unquestionably charming, with smoldering good looks in spite of the scars here and there.
His alarm clock is ringing, and it shows the date as November 2nd, 2359. It's two in the morning. Jared grabs a cigarette, and stops to look for a light. Shutting off the alarm, he growls. There's a barking from the hallway. There's still a ringing sound, and it takes Jared a minute, during which time he trashes his alarm clock with a mallet, before he realizes it's the phone.
He calls to the dog outside. "It's okay, Sophie, I'm coming." Grabbing the phone, he crosses his tiny apartment and heads for the door, patting himself for a light. Behind him, the automatic bed is busily making itself.
Lifting the phone to his ear, he mumbles, "Yeah?" He opens the door for the dog and starts to rummage through a drawer for a match. Out come a handful of war decorations, a hero's collection. "Hi sweetie!" he murmurs to the enormous German Shepherd cross that sits at his feet, wagging her tail.
"I love you too, Major, but you haven't called me that since basic training." The voice of Jeffrey Dean Morgan can be heard over the phone, and Jared snorts.
"I was talking to the dog," he says, grinning.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You still prefer your dog to the real thing." Jeff's chuckling as Jared catches sight of the photo of himself and a hard looking blonde in a wedding dress.
"Yeah. I prefer my bitches to bring their own fur coats," he snaps, still patting his pockets down in search of that elusive light.
Jeff's laughing now. "You still pining for that two timing ex of yours? Forget her; there are a million women out there."
"I don't want a million - I just want one," says Jared, softly. "A perfect one."
It's Jeff's turn to snort. "She doesn't exist, Jay. Ain't no such thing."
Rummaging through the drawer, Jared suddenly unearths a photo of himself and Jeff. They're in Federation uniform, standing beside a space fighter. He gazes at it for a moment. "Hey, I just found a picture of you," he says.
"Oh, really? How do I look?" Jeff's voice sounds wistful.
Jared chuckles. "Like shit," he says, smirking, then punches the air in triumph as he finds a box containing three matches. He strikes one, but it doesn't light. Sighing, he opens the fridge, but it's bare, except for a virtually empty can of Gemini croquettes. On the packet is an ad. 'WIN A DREAM TRIP FOR 2 TO FHLOSTON PARADISE,' it proclaims.
"Must be an old picture," says Jeff. "Listen, that's not what I called you about. You gotta bring me your hack for the 6 month overhaul, A.S.A.P."
Jared's attempting to boil water as he holds the phone to his ear, and he sighs. "I don't need one," he growls.
"You forgetting who sat next to you for a thousand missions," is Jeff's terse response. "I know how you drive."
"Dude! I'm driving a cab now, not a space fighter!" Jared's dismissive, visibly impatient to get rid of his ex-comrade in arms.
"Jared?" Jeff's voice is pitched as if to calm down a highly strung imbecile. "How many points you got left on your license?"
"Uh... at least fifty," responds Jared, fingers up to feel his nose as though expecting it to grow with the lie. Jeff laughs.
"In your dreams! See you tonight!" He hangs up, and seconds later Jared does the same. He makes coffee and then pours half of it into Sadie's bowl, setting it down beside her and patting her. "Cheers, dollface," he murmurs, lifting his own mug to sip.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The President's office has emptied, and only a few army officers remain. An ancient manuscript, and Fox Mulder's drawings, sit in front of the great man, and Kripke turns page after page in his attempt to illustrate his point. He's been babbling about hell's gates and demons so Lindberg is a little glassy-eyed.
"We only have forty-eight hours," says Kripke. "That's all the time it needs to adapt itself to our living conditions."
"And then?" asks the President in a faint voice.
"And then it will be too late," says Kripke in sepulchral tones. "The goal of this evil thing is to wipe out life! All forms of life. For all eternity...Life upsets it."
The President appears upset himself by this image. "Isn't there anything that can stop it?" he whispers.
"Yes, thank God." Erik Kripke crosses himself and beams. He does indeed believe in angels.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Somewhere, in a galaxy far, far away, the Mondoshawan spaceship bursts through a star cluster and fills the screen.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The manuscript is open on the President's desk, and he's studying Scully's rendering of the Mondoshawan.
"It looks like a freakin' cockroach," mutters the President.
"The Mondoshawans don't belong to the Federation," says Kripke. "But they're peaceful." He points to the case in the clasp of one of the Mondoswhawan's minions. "See here. In their possession are the four elements of life. These elements, when they are gathered around a fifth, The Supreme Being, ultimate warrior, created to protect life..."
In one of the relief carvings, the Supreme Being is depicted. He's standing as if frozen. All that can be seen is the lower half of his body. Beside him, a pair of big, metallic gloves can be seen, holding the case engraved with the emblem of the three suns containing the four Sacred Stones. Kripke continues. "...will produce what the ancients called the light of creation, the light of total goodness which is the only thing that can defeat this evil."
The President points to the spot occupied by the 5th element. "But what happens if instead of this... Ultimate Warrior... it's evil that stands here?"
"White turns to black. Light to Dark. Life to Death, for all eternity. There will be a weeping and a wailing and a gnashing of teeth. The rivers will run with blood, and pestilence will walk the earth." Kripke gets a glow about him as though he's prophesying. "There will be a McDonalds on every corner, and Starbucks will inherit the earth. Microsoft will grow mighty - er, no. Forget that one; that was last week."
The President's nerves quiver. He's popping Rolaids by the tube when his screen lights up, and a sentry from the vast depths of space speaks to him. "Sir, we have a Mondoshawan spaceship at the frontier, requesting permission to enter our territory."
"I guess I should make a decision," says Lindberg, laughing nervously.
Kripke gives him a gentle smile and nods. "They are the only ones who can help."
"Sir," General Sgriccia is on the screen. "The Mondoshawan don't belong to the Federation. We don't know their intention. I must recommend a full trinuclear assault."
Something inside the President seems to snap at that. "Did you see that thing swallow the Enterprise like a… a… gum drop? You can't even tell me what it is! I ask you for options, and you give me bullshit. Give the Mondoshawans permission to enter our territories with my warmest regards."
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Part Two