by Henry Wyckoff
Crossover: XF, DW (4th Doctor), HL, ST:Voy, and the world of David Eddings

Chapter 2

"Come on Doctor!" screamed Sarah at the top of her lungs, holding open the TARDIS doors. The Doctor was being chased by several Daleks, and they were closing fast. His long coat was flapping in the wind caused by his own running, and his even longer scarf was beginning to unroll itself from around his neck, threatening to trip him. "COME ON!"

The Doctor nearly knocked her over as he threw himself through the door and landed on the floor, out of wind and red-faced from his recent efforts. "Get us out of here!" he managed to pant.

Sarah, barely functional herself, ran over to the controls and shut the door, which blocked off the Daleks just at the last moment. Another flip of the controls, and they had vanished from that place and time, and emerged in that 'somewhere'. Where they were now, she didn't know, though she knew that the Doctor probably knew. All that mattered was that they were out of danger. Now, she could collapse as well.

Some few hours later, when they were both refreshed enough to get up from their respective locations on the floor, Sarah managed to grumble, "We're going someplace nice!" That wasn't a request. Her long, black hair had fallen in her face, and she grumbled a bit as she threw it back. "We've done nothing but run from Cybermen and into the Daleks, and back again!"

The Doctor, slowly pushing himself up, said brightly, "I have the *perfect* idea!"

Sarah sighed, because she knew that somehow the most perfect ideas turned into the worst disasters. She'd take a slightly unpleasant place over a perfect place any day.

"Don't worry," he smiled, winking, "I know just where to go!"

"Let's hope that's where we're going..." she muttered.

Some knobs were turned and a lever flipped, and the TARDIS began to hum. "Have you been to Scotland?"

"More times than I care to remember..." Not just the number of times, but the years themselves, she failed to add.

* * * *

Captain Janeway stared at the viewscreen. Nothing but stars. Almost a curse, the way she thought it. Over a year, and they were no closer to home than when they started. Decades left to go. If she didn't have a mask to wear, she'd throw something. She knew better, though, and so she didn't. The morale was more important than her throwing a momentary tantrum, and a tantrum could cause more damage to morale than anything else.

"What is our current status?" she asked to the rest of the bridge crew.

After a few moments, the usual data came back. The same useless data that didn't provide anything useful. Barely managing to hide her sigh of boredom and frustration, she said, "I'm going to eat some lunch. Keep me informed if anything happens." If only something *would* happen!

Chakotay raised his eyebrow, but kept his thoughts to himself.

Janeway entered the lift by herself, and after the doors shut, she was at a loss as to where she wanted to go. It was an inexplicable urge that forced her to say, "I need to find the Nightman."

The computer responded, "He is in his cabin."

"Is he asleep?"

A brief pause. "No. He is awake."

The Nightman. Also known as Pancho Villa, the once-Maquis who had saved the ship from the Borg when they appeared by surprise a month back, and had saved her from assimilation. She shuddered at the memories, glad that she never had to experience actual assimilation as Captain Picard had. It was Pancho Villa who had also reintroduced a mystery into her life. She often spent her idle moments asking herself questions about him. Who was Pancho, really? At times, he seemed like an old man, full of cynicism and barely-veiled pain, and at other times, he was a source of subtle strength and wisdom. She spent more of her time seeking out the Nightman's cabin. There was nothing truly out of the ordinary about this, because he was the Captain during the night shift, and was winding down in the day cycle. Usually, he wound down with a cigar and a shot of whiskey. Both of them were the genuine articles, the tobacco grown in the hydroponic garden and the whiskey made in the chemical engineering section. The still was designed partly by Duncan MacLeod, a human adventurer who had been rescued from the Borg continuum. He was also a Scotsman with a love of whiskey as strong as Pancho's.

It was a few minutes later when she found herself pressing the doorbell.

"Yes?" His voice was a bit slurred. He must have been really hitting the whiskey.

The door opened, and Pancho was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It wasn't the whiskey, but rather his other favorite drink: the Irish Kegbomb. A pint of black-and-tan with two shots of Absolut vodka, which made it a Guinness lookalike, and something that none of Voyager's engineers had been able to beat the Nightman at drinking. He smiled lopsidedly as he raised his glass, "I'd offer you a drink, but you're on duty and frown on drinking and driving a ship." Pancho was a Mediterranean by appearance, and more French or Spanish than anything else. He had been clean-shaven for all the time she knew him, but he had recently taken to growing his hair long, and a goatee. His mustache had grown substantially.

She nodded. "I frown on drunkenness too," she looked out the window, "but seeing our situation, and your record, I tend to look the other way."

"Anything I can do for you today?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I don't know."

He nodded knowingly, "Sort of like being hungry and not knowing what to eat, and then not being able to eat. I know how it is."

Janeway looked at him strangely. "I wouldn't put it that way, but you're right." She sighed, "I feel like kicking someone."

Pancho laughed, "But you know you can't." He sighed, "I know all too well what you're feeling. I've felt it for years on end sometimes." He drained his glass and refilled it, "My solution wouldn't work for you."

She was intrigued. "What did you do?"

His look was blunt. "I got drunk and killed a lot of people. When it happened again, I got addicted to MemKil and slaughtered as many Cardassians as I could find."

Janeway paled. MemKil was a drug that was said to produce the most unbelievable extremes of pleasure and pain, but few people lived to talk about it, and they couldn't really talk because they lost their memory. That's why it was called MemKil. A killer addicted to MemKil was generally hard to catch because he was a thorough killer and had no memory of what he did. If Pancho still had his memories... She swallowed, "You're right. That wouldn't work for me."

Both their communicators beeped, and Tuvok spoke through them, "Captain? We have detected an Earth-like planet, and it has a significant population."

Janeway's face lit up, and she nearly ran to the bridge with glee.

Pancho frowned, "Or you can take another drug: New Sensation. You'll make an adventurer well enough, but God hope you never reach Earth if you do become one, or you'll not survive the month you reach her."

* * * *

Silk stood up, ready to walk out of the tent, but Powys put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Please hear me out."

"What is there to hear out?" he demanded. "You freed Zedar, so I'm going to let Belgarath know about it and get back to making money!"

"As he said, what makes you think he's rescued? And if Belgarath is concerned enough to sense Zedar out and about, why not let Belgarath do something about it? He needs no warning from you. Why not sit down and listen to what I have to say? I can make it worth your while."

Silk smiled cynically, "Many an Angarak has made the same claim. I live on this world to make money, but that doesn't mean I'll sell my soul for it."

Powys smiled, "What makes you think I'd want your soul, even if you could hand it over and sell it as you would a blanket?"

That stopped him. "All right. Convince me."

They both sat back down around the fire. Zedar scooted away a little, a bit more scared of Silk. Silk didn't notice.

Powys spoke softly, barely audible over the fire. "Perhaps during your last moments with Eriond, the new God of Angarak, you have heard him mention of other worlds. Or perhaps Belgarath or Polgara spoke of them. Or perhaps not. The point is that this world is not the only one. There are many other worlds, with their own people, cities, and problems. There's one place in particular, a world called Earth, with some very nasty problems. It is there, to a city called Tucson, that we must go."

"Tucson? It sounds as alien as your own name."

Powys smiled. "Wrong language. But that's beside the point." His face became grave once more. "The point is that in this city, there is a horrible monster that must be stopped. He is a human with the soul of a demon and the means to create much destruction. He has already left a trail of destruction behind him, and if he is not stopped, the horror cannot be imagined."

Silk raised his eyebrows. "Come now. Other worlds? A human monster? For the sake of argument, I won't call you a frothing lunatic, but don't you think you should be talking to Belgarath?"

A slight shake of the head, "Zedar can handle our needs, and Belgarath doesn't have the resilience that you'll have. When I say that you are needed, what I mean is that *you* are needed. Nobody else will do."

His face fell, "Is this another one of those prophecies?"

"Sorry. Nothing as exotic as that."

"Oh." He thought about it. "How much are you paying?"

"What do you think is fair?"

And so the haggling began.

Zedar looked above through the smokehole. In the distant night, he saw a faint point of light moving slowly, and slowing. It hovered overhead.

Watching them.

* * * *

The Nightman entered the bridge, the smell of beer quite strong on him, but nobody noticed except for Tuvok, who raised his eyebrow, but said nothing. Everyone was more occupied with the planet below them, and was babbling about what remote sensing was telling them.

"So, Captain," he slurred a little, "are you going to send down an Away Team?"

Silence descended on the bridge, and everyone looked expectantly at Janeway, who said, "We need to observe a little more. When I'm sure it's right, we'll go down."

* * * *

"Here we go!" the Doctor said loudly, startling Sarah, who was sulking.

"To where?"

"The happiest place on Earth," he smiled wickedly, "Tijuana, Mexico!"

Sarah actually looked happily surprised, and when they felt the TARDIS shake a moment on landing, she was even ready to run out the door. When it was the monitor cover that opened, she was fidgeting impatiently. "Oh come on!"

"Just a good habit," he said soothingly. "Let's make sure we haven't appeared at the wrong place or wrong time." They saw the inside of a spaceship, and they could see that the spaceship monitor was viewing a blue-green planet with a significant cloud cover. "Like I said, it's just a good habit. It appears that we're at the right planet at the right time, but on a spaceship several thousand miles from our destination."

Sarah buried her face in her hands. "And to think I actually believed him..."

Just a few feet away, the bridge crew of Voyager was staring at this blue Police Box that materialized without warning. The crew was mostly puzzled, and Janeway was more furious than shocked. "Computer, scan this object."

The computer immediately responded, "Error. Spatial resolution in conflict."

Janeway looked at Tuvok, who answered, "The computer cannot resolve this object, and probably believes that it is both large and small. Perhaps it's a device to avoid detection."

She nodded, "I guess we'll have to try the old-fashioned way to communicate." Janeway knocked on the front door and yelled, "Is anyone in there?"

The door opened, and a middle-aged man with a childish smile popped his head out, "Excuse me, but can you tell me which is the way to Tijuana?" His accent was English, and he looked human enough.

Pancho ran forward with utter shock on his face. "Doctor! I had no idea you were ---" He clamped his mouth shut in surprise, then looked confused as if he just realized something that he didn't think of before. "No, you couldn't be -- I'd know."

The Doctor looked confused as well. "Villa? What are you doing on a starship?"

Janeway was shocked, "Do you two know one another?"

Pancho nodded, "I met him in London, and about the same way you've met him now. Captain? I think times have just become interesting."

The Doctor emerged from the Police Box, and behind him emerged a young woman wearing a dirt-stained dress and wild hair. She was as wild-eyed as the Doctor was calm and jovial. "Villa, I don't believe you met my travelling companion, Sarah."

He shook his head, "Only from a distance," he held out his hand. "Pancho Villa."

Sarah shook his hand, "As in...?"
He smiled, "A long lifetime ago."

Captain Janeway interrupted, "I'm sure it's great to meet old friends, but perhaps some explanations are in order."

Pancho answered immediately, "I believe this belongs in your ready room."

Janeway stared at him with curiosity, knowing that there was something that he wasn't willing to say to the crowd. "All right."

* * * *

"Mulder!" Scully screamed, running over to where Mulder lay on the floor of his office, his face sunk in a pool of his own vomit. He wasn't moving. She rolled him over and checked for a pulse, which he had: it was weak and racing.

A few curious people stopped in the doorway as they walked through the hall. "SOMEBODY GET AN AMBULANCE!" she screamed, and a few people jumped into action. In the meantime, she pulled off her coat and used a corner to clean the vomit off his face. She used her fingers to clear his breathing passages, and after a moment, he was breathing shallowly.

"Mulder!" she spoke intensely. "Can you hear me?"

He was mumbling something incoherently.

After what seemed like a few moments later, some medics ran into the room, shoving her out of the way.

Scully backed off, letting the medics do their job. Skinner caught her at the doorway, and he motioned her to his office, his face worried. When they got there, and he shut the door, he said, "I'm concerned about Mulder as you are, but you really need to get going, so I'm going to assign you another partner for the time."

"Sir? I don't think it'll be necessary to assign me a temporary partner."

He shook his head, "I think you do. He's someone that I'd trust with my life."

"Who is he?"

"Jan Hendricksen. He's been working Narcotics." He handed her some tickets. "The plane for Tucson leaves in half an hour. Jan will catch you in Dallas."

* * * *

Silk and Powys stood outside. "So, how do you plan to take us to this 'Tucson'?"

Powys opened his hand and threw a bolt of energy upwards, a green bolt that vanished into the sky. "That should get their attention. In a few moments, I think we are going to be visited by some very strange people. I wouldn't provoke them if I were you."

"Then why are you getting their attention?"

"It's not their attention I need, but the attention of someone who just happened to land on their ship." He smiled at Silk, "Nobody can roll the dice as well as I can, and trust me, I'm good at dice!"

* * * *

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