Crossover: The Reality Bomb

[Monroe]

Zanitav, Primus, and Dietrich moved through the ship using Primus' downloaded knowledge of the schematics.

"I almost prefer the Terrans of my universe as wasteful and corruptable as they are at least they can design a ship with a pupose." He growled.

"Its like the people here think they have a space hotel." Dietrich smirked as they walked along the carpeted hallways. Together the three of them crammed into a turbolift much, much too small and rode to the bridge.

Admiral Janeway stood up seeing them arrive. "I'm sorry I did not expect you to be here. The bridge is offlimits to visitors."

"Terran, we are relieving you of command. Step aside now." Zanitav ordered. Some of the officers pulled out their phasers but many did not on the bridge. Dietrich's VP-70 quickly pointed towards the first officer who had began reaching towards his own phaser.

"We're on the same side friends." Janeway told them as she attempted to disarm the situation.

Zanitav activated his shields and his power blades came to life. "Relinquish command or be purged from it."

Janeway's tactical officer, one of the few who had his phaser out angled it towards Janeway. Her eyes widened, "Lieutenant!"

The young officer shrugged slightly, "Sorry sir."

Zanitav wondered briefly the logic of these Federation calling a female officer 'sir', then moved to the command chair. "Primus shall you or I command the fleet operations?" He asks turning to the transformer.

As the Federation officers reluctantly lowered their weapons Dietrich moved the ones who had stood by Janeway and the Admiral herself into the corner at gun point. "What about these?" The corporal asked.

Zanitav considered this briefly, "While we have no need for those who would not help I don't think our more squeamish comrades would appreciate their deaths. Do with them as you will." Zanitav turned to Primus for approval. Without any real rank structure established he didn't want to over step his boundaries with the transformer.

[Aaron]

Dietrich shrugged, "brig it is then".

Herding the SF crew that sided with Janeway into a lift, she gestured for a few of the crew that hadn't signed their own death warrant to accompany her. After a short trip in the lift, she and her escorts deposited the former Admiral and her allies in holding cells.

Turning to the SFers that accompanied her, she ordered them to seal them in, turn off the lights, turn down the heat and weld the brig door shut as they left.

That completed, she thanked the officers for their help and returned to the shuttle bay. Striding in, she addressed all present. "We now control the ship, the Admiral is in the brig, with her friends."

[Mikey]

Ashok had quickly become so inured to the spate of odd things arriving instantaneously that he paid little attention to the vessel that had just appeared. Finally, he turned when he heard a voice.

"Great Death Bringer! What are you?" Dothude asked while looking at the Astartes.

The librarian slowly turned, then sprang to his feet, drew, and trained his pistol at the face of the newcomer in a motion that was unbelievably fast for a human of his bulk. "Battle-brothers! Ranger!" he yelled, the glow under his hood intensifying. "There is a genestealer hybrid among us! This ship must have been infected for generations!"

The newcomer backed up a step, squared its stance, and began to power a weapon mounted on its shoulder. Peering at the alien's strange armor, Ashok relaxed his aim somewhat. "Forgive me, brothers. This is no tyranid. A hybrid of this appearance would not be able to use such armor or weapons; nor is there any psychic link at work." Turning his attention back to the newcomer, Ashok said, "Blood of Sanguinius! I presume by your sudden appearance that you are here to help our quest; but friend or no, don't sneak up on an Astartes."

[Deepcrush]

Dothude laughed at the Astartes Ashok. Lowering his weapons and walking up close to the Dreadnought. "Maybe you should take a lesson from the Big One here and not be so easily surprised. Or maybe that is asking beyond you." Dothude laughed again.

Dothude moved and weaved around the Dreadnought. "Amazing! Imagine what beasts would fall to this creation."

[RK_Striker_JK_5]

Primal shook his head. "I'm not sure I'd be right for overall command, Zanitav. I'm a simple starship captain back where I come from." He looked up, sensors registering the arrival of a newcomer. "Hello, there! You must-Rhinox!"

Rhinox stood up from his position and holstered his chain guns. "Sorry, Optimus. He was making me nervous around Huron. I've still got his armor to repair." He picked up a discared fusion torch and lit it. "I should have him fully rpeaired in six hours."

Primal nodded. "Good." He turned to the rest. "I recommend we use the battle bridge instead of the main bridge. It's buried deep inside the primary hull and isn't exposed like the primary one..." He shook his head. "Slaggin' empties..."

[Deepcrush]

Huron-Fel turned his massive body to face Dothude... the creature in strangely familier armour. "Many beasts have fallen to me little one. Many times many."

Dothude bowed his head in respect to the great warrior before him. "You have a warrior's soul my large friend. To make tropheys by your side will be great. I, am Dothude, The Wise Blade!"

Huron-Fel turned his body back to facing the shuttle bay entrance. "I am Huron-Fel of the Holy Emperor of the Imperium of Man. Astartes of His Death Guard Legion and Dreadnought of His Will."

The words Death and Guard made a funny translation for Dothude. He stepped back in front of Huron-Fel, or at least what he was sure was the front of the machine. "One who guards my place in death... I should be so gifted to have one too see me on the way of the Great Hunt." Looking upon the machine as a warrior, Dothude noticed this warrior was badly harmed in whatever battle he was last in. "You do not look well Huron-Fel of the Guards of Death. You look very close to what you proclaim."

Huron-Fel laughed at the slight. The rumble made most of the humans in the shuttle bay jump. "I was close to the Emperor's Peace, though it seem's His Will be done, is not finished with me." Huron-Fel (looked) across the shuttle bay. Remembering his friends he left behind. "I will join the forever dead soon enough. In my state, my next battle shall be my last. I will die well! For even in death, I serve."

Dothude walked up and placed his armoured hand upon Huron-Fel. "You will not face your final battle in such state large one. This I promise you. Should the Great Death come for you, I will be there beside you. We will rest together in the Great Hunt." Stepping back from Huron-Fel, Dothude scanned the Dreadnought. "You're armour reminds me of a Starship, less so then any warrior's. Tell me Huron-Fel! What needs may we tend too? Other then those large holes?"

The two warriors bursted out in laughter as Dothude pointed to the gaping dents, breaks, cracks and open wounds in Huron-Fel's armoured mass.

[Mark]

"Where am I?" Garion wondered looking around.

The King of Riva had never seen anything like this place before. He had been in wolf form returning to Riva from an extended stay with his Aunt Pol in the Vale of Aldur. Night had fallen, and he'd focused his Will to re-assume his human form, and just as he spoke the Word, everything felt suddenly WRONG. Then, just as suddenly, he'd found himself here. He knew without looking that his massive sword was still strapped to his back, with the powerful Orb of Aldur still at it's hilt. He heard the music of the orb mute itself, and sensed the stones confusion as well. He also had his traveling clothes, belt knife, and a pouch of gold, but nothing else.

Not knowing what else to do, he picked a direction at random and started walking. As he rounded a corner, he was met by a man and a woman, both pointing some kind of item at him, in a manner that made him think they were weapons. Raising his hands and not knowing what else to say he simply said "Uh, I come in peace. Take me to your leader?"

[Monroe]

Zanitav nodded towards Primus, "Be that as it may, every Protoss fleet commander began as a lowly Zealot. I am unfamiliar with much of this ship and its technology. If we are to save Aiur the best captain must be in charge. I am here for the Glory of Aiur, not my glory. So I relinquish control to you, Primus."

Zanitav stepped aside, "That said, we should make way for the first universe. I will return to the cargo hold so we can plan an attack." Zanitav paused the set down a small data crystal, "If you can find a way to access this information, it has schematics for a dragoon if something should ever happen to me in battle. I would wish to continue to serve Aiur and the Khala. However, I do suggest we initiate Q's warpstream immediately and enter honorable combat against these Jaffa."


Meanwhile...

Janeway continued to pace in the freezing cell. "Any luck with the communicator?" She asked the helms man who had been locked away with her.

"I'm trying sir. We're lucky that the corporal didn't take this away from us." He said as he fiddled with the small device, "There that should do it." He said, "Alright, Lieutenant Heimmel in engineering has jury rigged us a subspace transmitter that shouldn't be detected by the bridge... in theory."

Janeway nodded, "Good. Is it on?" The helmsman nodded slowly. Janeway smiled, "You know this reminds me of when we had to chose between Tuvix and the lives of two of my crewmates. You made the right decision just like I did then in helping me."

"Uh thanks sir."

Janeway then spoke, "This is Admiral Janeway of the USS James T Kirk. Myself and several of my commanding officers have been taken prisoner during a mutiny onboard led by hostile aliens. We request immediate help." After a few brief moments the Captain of another nearby Federation ship answered the message...

[Tsukiyumi]

Roland was still astounded. The room they'd given him was grander than the finest hotel in In-World; it was at least twenty paces from end to end, with a small anteroom to the side, which he presumed was the bathroom. The furnishings were fine quality, as bizarre as they looked, and the bed looked mighty inviting after spending so much time on the move. Tull was the last place he'd slept in a real bed, and it had been as ramshackle as the rest of the town.

They're the reason you're so low on shells, Roland. You had to kill all of them, remember, the voice of his childhood instructor, Cort, spoke in his mind. B*stards tried to lynch you thanks to that zealot bitch.

Roland nodded, placing his satchel on the floor next to the large desk. He'd killed every man, woman and child in Tull after they tried to sacrifice him to their Jesus-man. They were like rabid dogs, and he'd showed them the mercy of his guns.

He strolled up to the alcove the man from the Star Fleet had shown him, scratching at the stubble on his neck. I wonder if there's a bathtub? he thought, resisting the urge to check. He needed to use this machine immediately, though he still doubted it could really do what the man had said. Such a soft man could not be trusted; he'd never seen hardship, never experienced loss.

Still, Roland talked to the machine, as instructed, " Comp-you-ter, show me the Data Base."

The machine complied, and a series of words appeared, written in some odd form of the low speech. Roland found it was somewhat readable if he concentrated.. "Comp-you-ter, show me bullets," he asked, and the entries showed a number of different pictures of various ammunition.

" Pistol bullets, please." It cooperated again, narrowing the list. Roland reluctantly touched the screen; he half-expected it to burn him or shock him. The list scrolled as he touched a downward arrow icon, and finally, he found what he was looking for.

" Comp-you-ter, make a hundred of these." He requested. The machine emitted a short squawk; Roland stepped back, hands on his guns.

A woman's pleasant voice responded, " Access to requested replicator patterns is restricted. Please supply security clearance." His grip on the massive revolvers relaxed; the man in the pajamas had explained this. Roland had made a code of numbers and letters after the machines and humans from a strange other land captured the shrill woman-chief of this city.

" Tower Dark One-Nine." Roland stated, and the machine beeped. A sharp sound issued from the alcove before a large box of bullets appeared in a shimmer of lights. Roland's eyebrow rose. He gingerly reached for the shells, still expecting the machine to shock him, or dematerialize his hand. Upon inspection, the bullets seemed to be in perfect condition, not even re-loaded. Roland wondered where they had materialized from.

He deftly spun one of the cartridges across his knuckles before setting it down on the desk next to the box. Turning back to the alcove, he spoke again, "Make another one-hundred, please." The alcove complied, and another box of pristine ammunition appeared.

Roland smiled, kicking his boots off as he removed the new bullets from the machine, " Computer, do that again. Then I'd like some fried eggs. And some bacon."

It was only when he'd finished with his meal, (which ended up consisting of four eggs, ten strips of bacon, two sausages, and a glass of the sweetest apple juice he'd ever drank), that he noticed the window behind the bed. The oddest thing he'd ever seen was happening on the other side: a bunch of stars, like in the night sky, were moving past.

Roland walked up to the window, and looked both up and down, pondering the situation for a moment before realizing the city was in the night sky. He had a brief moment of vertigo before stepping back away from the black glass, and sat behind the desk, rubbing his temples.

It's time for that bath, he thought as he removed his gunbelts and headed toward the anteroom. This whole situation was getting stranger by the minute.

At least I have new shells. He grinned; a rare sight for such a wounded man.

[Aaron]

Phebes wasn't sure where Rhinox had gone off too but he figured that Huron-Fel was getting impatient with his lack of ammunition. So he had loaded a cart with his spent ammunition and power packs as well as some samples of live munitions, fuel and packs and followed the directions a crewmen had given him to something called an "industrial replicator". Which to his surprise had turned out to be nothing more than a glowing table-top mounted on a large pedestal in an equally large room.

"Can these humans make nothing that does not look like an artisans workshop?" He asked himself as he proceeded to stack Huron-Fel's live ammunition onto the replicator, the crewmen having explained the workings to him earlier.

"Cogitator! Construct these items in the following numbers..." at this he proceeded to list off the requirements to replace the Dreadnoughts supply.

"WARNING! Access to requested items is restricted. Please supply security clearance." Phebes sighed, even though the crewman had supplied him with the required information, the whole process was quite frustrating.

"Janeway Mike-India-Lima-Foxtrot", Phebes barked at the machine.

"Access granted. WARNING! Replicating these items will require the supplied items to be analysed. Please confirm intent."

The Apothecary slammed his fist on his thigh in frustration. "DO IT!" he bellowed.

At this the machine before him emitted several chirps and various noises, resulting in the supplied equipment dissolving before his eyes and being replaced by a large pile of the requested ammunition. Finally satisfied Phebes loaded it on the cart and returned to the landing bay.

[Mikey]

"Maybe you should take a lesson from the Big One here and not be so easily surprised. Or maybe that is asking beyond you," retorted the genestealer-thing. The newcomer was able to make a joke, which certainly indicated that he was no 'Nid. That made Ashok feel little better about the jibe, however.

Twin tendrils of bluish smoke emanated from under the librarian's heavy cowl as he holstered his bolt pistol - the size and heft of which drew stares from the more typical humans in the group. "Reacting quickly is a job skill for me, xeno. It's why I'm still alive after 400 years in the service of the Throne. Lucky for you I am actually relaxed - that's why you're still alive." Ashok stalked off while Dothude went to speak with the venerable dreadnought.

His teeth ground as he struggled to control his emotions. Everything was wrong here; and what was worse, the severity of the situation required him to be in more control than ever, despite the tumultuous nature of his current predicament. He couldn't imagine he'd ever fight side-by-side with an Eldar again, much less this assortment of even weirder xenos. Thankfully, at least the Iron Snake seemed to not bear the ill-will toward the Blood Angels' gene-seed that many other chapters did. That was at least something - with the stakes at hand, he couldn't afford to unwittingly kill a few important allies in the throes of combat... again. "Sir?" Ashok's reverie was interrupted by on of the Starfleet "officers." More like 'functionaries,' Ashok thought.

The librarian's head snapped around to face the young ensign. "Qu... quarters have been prepared for you," stammered the young woman in the eminently non-functional black-and-gold jumpsuit. "This way," she said tremulously. Silently he turned and followed the woman out of the bay and through corridors large enough to admit even two Astartes abreast. Finally they arrived at a set of doors that opened at their approach.

Ashok's eyes widened as he took in the spaciousness of the quarters. "Surely this is the apartment of a Lord Militant?" he asked in surprise.

"Umm... no, sir. These are our guest quarters..." the ensign replied, and went on to show him the the head, the bedroom - at which he barked with sarcastic laughter - and the operation of the replicator and computer functions.

"You... speak to your cogitators?" he asked, once again feeling the full weight of the unfamiliarity of his surroundings.

"Err... if you need anything else, ask the computer." The young ensign couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

Ashok strolled over to the replicator. "'Kom-pew-ter,' can you make Kraken shells for this?" he asked, holding up his bolt pistol, "and sickle clips?"

"*beep* Scanning..." answered a female voice, startling him. "'Bolt pattern 'Kraken' penetrator found in database of dreadnought Huron-Fel. Is this correct?"

"Ummm, yes... three clips, Astartes Mk III."

"Authorization required for munitions replication. Please enter authorization code." Ashok's eyes glowed briefly, and a short arc of energy burst from them into the control panel. After a few sparks, pops, and fizzles, the computer said, "Authorization accepted." A swirling mist of light appeared in the niche which quickly resolved itself into three sickle-pattern clips. He suspiciously snatched them up, inspected the rounds, and attached the clips to his belt. He then wandered to the bedroom and began to remove his armor. Unlike most Space Marines he appreciated being out of his armor, even though the plugs and attachments that linked his armor to his body sometimes itched. Perhaps his body had adjusted too much to being bound for three years to the Tablet of Lestralio after having undergone the Black Rage. Besides, he had always felt that his armor's machine-spirit didn't like him too much.

He found a simple robe hanging in the head. It was made for a normal human, but managed to cover him just enough for modesty's sake. He sat on the floor next to the bed, and the recent events came flooding into his mind: being swept across universes, allying with all manner of strange xenos - and being challenged by some - the strange and sorcerous-seeming vessel he was on, even the fact that it was now commanded by some sort of sentient servitor. His vision began to cloud with the familiar translucent red haze, and he punched his hands downward in a reflex. His bare fists left deep dents in the material of the floor. Reaching up, he pulled the rough material of the Shroud of Lemartes tight onto his scalp, feeling some focus in its scratchy touch. His breathing slowed and his vision returned, but he knew himself well enough by now. "'Kom-pew-ter,'" he said between clenched teeth, "lock the door."

[Deepcrush]

Phebes entered the shuttle bay, a massive cart of munitions before him. Shoving the cart to a group of Starfleet persons he howled. "You three! Load Brother Huron-Fel. You two, get more! Now!" Feeling it was best not to argue the crewmen did as they were told. Huron-Fel bowed his massive form to Phebes. His vox speakers booming. "I am in your debt brother, one which I will repay in folds."

The crewman slowly rolled the cart over too the Dreadnought. Their bodies working hard to push the cart that Brother Phebes in his power armour had so easily moved about. Huron-Fel entered loading mode. His arms raised to show the munitions storage. Feed jacks slid out for fresh supplys. "Crewmen, I will require another six thousand rounds of this munition to reach full capacity. As well as nine warheads and one hundred gallons of Promethium." Dothude watched and laughed as the meek humans loaded the great machine.

"Your armour, Huron-Fel, is also in need of repair. I will help you." Huron-Fel flexed his free arm and made the sign of the Aquila upon his chest. Or at least as close to as a dreadnought could. "It would seem my life may not end for some time now. Too many debts to repay." Dothude laughed. "No debt Big One. Just friends."

Dothude stepped over to Phebes, the only human in the room to match his size. "Tell me of the Big One and what we can do to help him?"

[Aaron]

"Tell me of the Big One and what we can do to help him?"

Phebes took in the sight before him, one of many strange things he had seen in the last few days. "Truly there is no end to the oddities the Emperor has seen fit to bless us with today. Here friend, this should help." Phebes offered Dothude the same slate that Rhinox had been given, with Huron-Fel's full specifications and requirements loaded onto it. "Take care while you replace his plate, there are a great many feed lines just under the surface, especially around his sarcophagus. There is only so much I can do with the facilities here if that gets damaged."

At this Phebes strode to the corner of the bay and returned with what tools Rhinox and himself had used to repair Fel's reactor. "These are what we have to mend him with, if you require something else please inform me. I am not a Tech-Marine but even I know that these humans lack basic tools."

"If you will remove the damaged plate, I will get it's replacements". Phebes strode over to yet another Starfleet crewman who seemed to be standing around aimlessly. Removing a small piece of vellum and a portion of plate that he had taken off of Huron-Fel earlier he commanded him to replicate what they required. "Get any of the other crew that you may need to assist you Human, this...will not be light work." Smiling to himself he returned to Fel and watched Dothude get setup to begin his task.

"Now Brother, do you wish to slumber while we work?"

[RK_Striker_JK_5]

Primal moved around the battle bridge, optics taking in everything. Much better, he thought. The central area had been gutted and a new chair installed for him. He had taken Zanitav's words of encouragement to spark. Even Optimus Prime himself started out as Orion Pax.

A window opened up in his HUD, indictating an errant subspace signal. His antennae twitched as he quickly traced it to the brig. "Oh, slag," he growled as he listened to Janeway's transmission. "Computer!" he barked. "Set up a level-ten jamming field around the ship. Authorization Primal-alpha-sierra-delta."

The computer triple-beeped. "Authorization granted," it said.

Primal tapped the side of his head. "Rhinox, we've got a problem."

*****

Rhinox set the power core down onto the deck plating, grinning. "That's the ticket," he said. He turned to the deck officer who helped him earlier. "Thanks for the equipment."

"No problem."

Primal's voice suddenly came through his internal comm unit. "Rhinox, we've got a problem. Janeway managed to send a distress signal. I'll inform everyone else in a nano-click."

Rhinox's teeth ground together. "Well, that's just dandy," he growled. "Might wanna get Bauer in on it. From what he told me, he knows about 'persuading' someone not to do it again."

There was a pause before, "I'm not too enthusiastic about that... but I don't think we have a choice. there's too much at stake."

[SuperSaiyaMan12]

Suddenly, a man in green battle armor was dropped onto the deck and he clasped his helmet, groaning. On his back were two weapons, a strange red colored gun and a heavy looking rifle. The group looked down at him and he pushed himself up. "Okay...where the hell am I?"